by Ashe Barker
I lean forward, drape my arms around his shoulders and lock my legs around his waist. That’s the extent of my active participation—the rest is Harry’s show alone. He strokes his cock in and out, slow at first, then more firmly. I grasp him hard with my inner muscles, already tight from the frigid water, and concentrate on just hanging on. He picks up speed, pounding into me, each stroke slamming me back against the stone. I don’t care, I’m oblivious to anything but the glorious sensation Harry is stirring within my pussy. He manages to slip one hand between us to reach my clit. He rubs, circling the nub of nerve endings as I sink my teeth into the tip of his shoulder. My orgasm is swift, ripping through me like a tornado, suddenly there, all powerful, all-consuming, and just as quickly passed, gone. Harry is in hot pursuit. He gives a muffled curse as his balls tighten and he pumps his semen into me.
The whole episode can’t have taken more than a couple of minutes, from Harry telling me to strip to us both climaxing behind the waterfall. I giggle as the reality of our situation sinks in. Talk about ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’.
“Something amusing you, Hope? And by the way, I think you drew blood.”
He’s rubbing his shoulder. As he moves his fingers I can see my teeth marks.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Sir. I never meant…”
He silences me with a finger across my lips. “Hush, love. I have much more than that planned for you later. So, a quick swim, then we get out and go find something to eat? Yes?”
I bury my face in his neck, my arms still looped around his shoulders. “Yes, Sir. That’ll be nice.”
Chapter Twelve
We make use of the hotel restaurant for our evening meal, and once again I find my beautiful blue dress suitable for the occasion. Harry scrubs up well too, choosing a dark gray business suit for this evening. I love him in his casual jeans and T-shirts, but for me there has always been something deeply sensual about a handsome man in a well-tailored suit. Harry fits the bill perfectly.
By the time he’s fixed me with that seductive but no nonsense Dom look, asked me if I’ve quite finished my coffee and signaled for the waiter to bring our bill, my pussy is so wet I fear I might leave a stain on the plush velvet of my seat. I wonder if my dress can be dry cleaned? Harry stands, holds the back of my chair as I get to my feet, and offers me his elbow as we leave the restaurant. The hotel has a courtesy shuttle car and the driver offers to transport us back to the mill. We had intended to walk, but my shoes are just not designed for the woodland terrain. We accept the lift and a couple of minutes later we alight at the mill doors. We let ourselves in, to be greeted by Daisy, giddy with delight to see us back.
“I’ll let her have a run outside for a few minutes. Would you wait for me in the snooker room, please?”
I look at him, surprised. I’d assumed that the four-poster would be my next stop, and that I’d probably find myself tied to it soon enough.
Harry smiles. “I fancy a game of snooker. Do you play, Hope?”
“Er, no. I’ve seen it on the television, though.”
“Not this version, I suspect. You can keep the dress on, but no underwear.” He clicks his tongue for Daisy, who needs no further encouraging. The pair of them disappear through the door and are immediately swallowed up in the trees surrounding the mill.
Harry didn’t tell me exactly how long I had to prepare myself, but he did mention taking Daisy out for a few minutes. I don’t hang about. Five minutes later, I’m in the snooker room, my knickers safely deposited back in my holdall with the rest of my dirty washing, and the skirt of my dress swishing seductively around my naked bum. I’m relieved that it no longer hurts from this morning’s escapade, as it’s pretty clear that Harry intends to warm my arse up again. My tummy quivers and my pussy clenches at the prospect. Harry’s right. I am a slut.
Long may it last. I’m having the time of my life.
Shortly after, I hear Harry’s footsteps on the path outside, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. He is talking to Daisy, his low voice gentle as he settles her on her trusty blanket. Then I listen as his footsteps recede—he’s walking away, heading for somewhere else in the mill. I remain where I am, waiting. A couple of minutes pass, and I hear him again, this time heading in my direction. The snooker room door opens and he steps inside. It clicks quietly as he closes it behind him. He’s removed his suit jacket, and has a glass of iced water in each hand, the cubes clinking merrily against the tumblers.
Ice! He promised me ice.
I stand beside the table, my right hand fisted on the top of it as I watch him approach me.
“You are one seriously lovely woman, Hope Shepherd. Have I mentioned that already?”
“You have, Sir. Thank you. You’re pretty hot yourself.”
He smiles, inclines his head in solemn salute. “Then it’s a good thing we have ice. So, our game. He picks up the blue ball from the center of the table and drops it into the pocket closest to him. He then picks up the white from close to the cushion at the far end and places that on the spot vacated by the blue. Next he saunters over to the cue rack and selects a cue. He comes to stand at the end of the table, chalking the end of his cue just as I’ve watched the professional players do on the television.
“Right, a little target practice then. From here you’re going to try to pot the pink, then the black. Okay?”
“I won’t be able to reach. You’re taller than I am.”
“Do your best. Shall I demonstrate first?”
“Yes, Sir. Please do.” I stand back to watch as Harry leans over the green baize, lines up his cue and fires the white down the table. It connects with the pink, the sound crisp and satisfying. The pink ricochets away and drops neatly into the pocket at the bottom corner. Harry retrieves and re-spots the white ball, then repeats the exercise with the black ball.
“Show-off.”
“You asked for a demonstration, and you got one.” I muttered the words, but he heard me. “Now unless you want me to demonstrate a lesson in submissive good manners, I suggest you try to do the same thing. Come and stand here.”
I stand beside him at the end of the table. He hands me his cue, freshly chalked again. “I’ll re-spot the balls for you after your shots. You lean over and see if you can reach.”
I nod, and stretch myself as far as I can along the felt top. I’m still a good foot or more short of being able to connect with the white ball. Harry obligingly moves it back a few inches, to just about on the edge of my range. It still seems like an unequal contest to me, but I know better than to argue.
“The pink ball first, right?”
“Right, but first would you lift your skirt up around your waist?”
He’s ultra-polite, as ever, but I knew this was coming, or something of the like. Why else are my panties stuffed in my case? I lay my cue on the table and reach back to hitch up the fabric of my skirt.
“A little higher, please. Perhaps you could bunch it up under your stomach. I want to be able to see all of that pretty ass of yours.”
“Is this all right, Sir?” I wriggle a little to shove the material under me, and peer back over my shoulder for approval. Harry is standing behind me, surveying my bum displayed for his amusement. And mine, I guess.
“Perfect. Now take the shot, please.”
I pick up the cue again and line up my shot. “Don’t tell me, if I miss you’ll swat my butt cheeks with the cue.”
“Of course not, I might injure you. If you miss, I’ll insert an ice cube into your pussy. The next time you miss, you take one in your arse. And so it goes on, pussy, arse, pussy, arse, until I run out of ice, or you manage to pot a ball. I wonder which will be sooner?”
His casual tone does nothing to lessen the impact of his words, the sheer eroticism of his intent. My pussy is spasming wildly, already indecently damp just from his interested perusal from his vantage point behind me. There’s a faint clink as he sips water from his glass, reminding me that he has the ice readily t
o hand.
I line up the cue again, but this time the tip is anything but steady. I draw several deep breaths. Even though I know the outcome is pretty much inevitable, I can but try.
I take the shot and to be fair, it’s not a bad effort. The pink ball bounces off the cushion about an inch from the pocket. It might as well have been a mile off. I let my forehead drop onto the green felt.
“Ah, you missed. I guess we’ll be needing an ice cube then.” He steps forward, the front of his trousers brushing my bum and the backs of my legs. He places the glass beside my shoulder on the table. I turn my head to watch him fish out a glistening cube of ice. He pushes it into the furrow between my buttocks.
“Hold that for me, please. I just need to part the lips of your cunt ready for this.”
I manage to hold still while he uses his fingers to spread my labia wide, then he inserts just the tips of his index and middle fingers into my entrance and spreads them to open me. He picks up the ice cube with his other hand and pushes it slowly into me. He leaves it lodged between my pussy lips as I lie there, shivering helplessly.
“Christ, Sir, that’s cold.” I’m almost whimpering, though it’s not painful exactly. It’s more a combination of shock at the freezing temperature, and humiliation that my cunt is spread open, the lips held apart by the ice.
“You need to concentrate then and hope you don’t miss next time, or it’ll get a whole lot colder. Are you ready to go again?” His attitude is light, conversational, but I know he’s every inch the Dom in this moment. His focus is entirely on me, his concentration intent as he scrapes his fingernails across my buttocks.
I reach for the cue as Harry lands over me to re-spot the white ball. I close my eyes, striving for the clarity of thought I’ll need for this. Harry does not help, idly caressing my bum as I take aim. He has the decency to keep his hand still as I take the shot, but still the black ball ricochets across the table to come to rest against the cushion opposite me.
Harry pats my bum, the touch playful. He places his glass of iced water back on the table. “The ice is starting to melt, so strictly speaking we could probably manage without lube. It might help matters, though. Would you like me to open you up a little first or are we just going for it?”
No reasonable offer of help ever refused. That’s my motto. And in any case, this bit should be fun. I think. “Would you prepare me first, please? And with lube, if you don’t mind, Sir?”
“My, my, how polite you are. How perfectly submissive.” There’s a soft slurp as he squirts lube onto his fingers.
Even though I’m expecting it, and the stuff is nowhere near as cold as the ice in my pussy, I still jerk when he smears it around my anus.
“Keep still, Hope.” A hand in the small of my back reminds me that he’s totally in control here—as if I could doubt that. I manage to lie motionless while he works the lube into my arsehole, slipping the tip of his finger in to smooth it around the rim.
“Would you like me to go a little deeper, just for good measure? Your aim does seem to be a little unreliable, you may well end up with quite a lot of ice in here.”
Oh God. I groan into the baize beneath my cheek. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
He withdraws his digit and reloads it with lube. Spreading my buttocks with the fingers of his spare hand, he penetrates my arse again. This time he finger-fucks me quite thoroughly, sinking two fingers fully inside. He twists and spreads them, coating my inner walls with the slick lube. It would be heavenly, but for the knowledge of what’s coming next.
“Enough, I think. Too much lube will take the edge off the sensation, and we wouldn’t want that, would we? Hold still, please, as I push this one through the sphincter. I’m going to let your arsehole close around it, with the ice inside. I wouldn’t want you to be struggling to keep it in there.”
How considerate. I grit my teeth as he dips his lubed fingers into the water for another ice cube. I hope he won’t be thinking of drinking that! My concern for his welfare evaporates when he places the wet cube against my anus and presses firmly. My instinct is to close up tight, to repel the intruder, but he already loosened the muscle, and the lube does the rest of the work. The cube slips easily into my arse, lodging just inside the rim.
“Christ, that’s beautiful. I love how you let me do this, how you let me handle your body. No protest, no struggle. Your submission is so precious to me, honey.”
His words take me by surprise, soothing the edge off my discomfort. Perhaps that was his intention. The knowledge that I please him, that he appreciates my surrender, is powerful. It motivates and grounds me, reminds me why I’m here, draped half naked over a snooker table, my pussy and arse filled with rapidly melting ice.
“Thank you, Sir.” My response is murmured, little more than a whisper, and carries none of the sarcasm it might have. This moment is special, a turning point for me as I acknowledge, more for myself than for Harry, that I’ll do whatever he asks of me. Whatever he instructs, I will obey. Whatever he wants, I will give. I know he’s not about to hurt me, though in the future he undoubtedly will. For now it’s to be discomfort, humiliation and the absolute control of his will over mine.
I love it, want it. Crave it.
“Ready to try the next shot, honey?” His voice is gentle, and I know if I asked for a minute to compose myself I would have it. He’s in no hurry—this scene will proceed at my pace. I guess that may not always be the case. Sometimes he will push me. He has before. But not today.
I nod, stretching out my hand to feel for the discarded cue. Harry walks around the table to retrieve all three balls, pushing the cue toward me as he passes. I watch him replace the pink and the black. He smiles at me and winks before re-spotting the white.
“Good luck.” He stands, arms folded, to watch my next attempt.
I’m hopelessly off target. The pink crashes straight into the black and all three balls hurtle around the table, bouncing off the cushions. Harry grabs the white ball before it hits my arm on its course back down to the baulk end. “No bruises, at least not today. If you could spread your legs a little wider, though, that would be nice.”
He moves back into his position behind me, stroking my labia with his fingers. I flinch when he presses the ice cube, now considerably smaller, right into my pussy. My inner thighs are dripping with the cool water melting from the ice cubes. Knowing what to expect, I manage just a slight gasp as Harry parts my pussy lips again to place the second ice cube between them. This one feels bigger than the first, stretching my entrance. Harry takes hold of it, moving it in and out of my cunt, slowly fucking me with it. I groan, and he lets go of it, only to lay his chilled fingers against my clit.
“Oh, Sir…!” It feels wonderful. I squirm against his hand, hoping he might…
“Later. Maybe.” He slaps my bum, the spank hard enough to smart. “Now you need to concentrate again.”
I grit my teeth whilst Harry collects the errant balls and repositions them. The cue comes more readily to hand now. I know the drill and aim for the pink again.
And I get it. The white connects with the pink with a satisfying clunk, and the pink ball rolls directly at the corner pocket. It drops in, never touching the sides.
“Holy shit, you’re getting the hang of this. Right, do that again with the black and I’ll give you an orgasm as a special prize.”
Buoyed up by my unexpected success I fire off the next shot. Sadly, the pink was a complete fluke, I have no idea how I did it or how to repeat it. The black ball bounces in the jaws of the pocket before spinning away across the table.
“Ah well, maybe next time.” Harry moves around behind me again. There’s a clink as he selects his ice cube.
I remain perfectly still. Harry parts my buttocks with his fingers ready to slide the ice into my arse. He doesn’t hang about, pushing it firmly through the ring of muscle to nudge the one already inside. I whimper at the sensation as the original ice cube is shoved farther in. For the first time I start
to wonder how many more he’ll want to put inside me. The glow of his approval is alluring, but I don’t think I can take much more of this. He had two glasses…
“What’s your score, Hope?”
“My, my score, Sir?”
“Remember, on a scale of one to ten. Where are you right now?”
Ah, right. “Five, Sir. Six possibly.”
“One more in each hole, then we go to bed. Okay? Can you deal with that?”
“I can, I think. Yes, Sir, yes, that will be fine.” And it will. I know it will.
Sensitive, intuitive Dom that Harry is, he saw that I was struggling—the moment the scene began to turn bad for me, he saw. He knew and he asked me. My body goes limp as I relax into the green baize. I wait for the final two.
Harry doesn’t ask me to attempt the shots again. We both know that part of the scene has outlived its usefulness now. I lie, unresisting when he uses his finger to nudge the second ice cube right into my pussy, then slides the third in behind it. This time he also pushes that one right inside, effectively filling my cunt. I have a moment to adjust to the new sensation before his finger penetrating my arse elicits a low groan as the ice in there also shifts farther inside. I’m shivering, my core temperature no doubt affected by this now, despite the warmth of the summer evening. Harry says nothing. All cool efficiency, he slips the final ice cube into my arse.
“Bed?”
“Yes, please.” I try to push myself up with my hands, but Harry simply picks me up.
He turns me in his arms, cradling me, and carries me from the room. I loop my hands around his neck as he strides across the living area to the stairs. He takes those fast, and moments later we are in the master bedroom. He deposits me on the four-poster bed, my beautiful blue dress still hitched well up above my waist.