Red Skye at Night

by Ashe Barker

  “Don’t move.” His terse instruction is sufficient to pin me in place. He strides over to the en suite and emerges within an armful of towels. “Lift up.”

  Again I obey. Harry shoves the towels under me. Just as well—the ice is melting fast in my inner heat. He reaches behind me to unzip my dress then pulls it up over my shoulders. He glances back at me and shakes the creases out.

  “Lose the bra.”

  I comply. Meanwhile he selects a hanger from the wardrobe and hangs up my lovely dress. “You might need it again. It’s not that I’d mind buying you a new one, but shopping facilities seem a bit sparse around here.”

  “Talking of which, it’d be a pity to get those trousers damp. Or the shirt. Maybe you’re a little over-dressed too, Sir.”

  He grins, the gleam in his dark eyes positively wicked. “Maybe I am, but you’re not going to notice that. Lie back with your butt as close to the edge of the bed as you can. And spread your legs wide.”

  I do as he said, while he grabs a pair of pillows from the head of the bed and dumps them on the floor. I close my eyes in delighted anticipation when he drops to his knees in front of me.

  His uses his thumbs first, to trace my fluttering pussy lips, parting them to allow a trickle of cool water to flow from me. The act is sensuous, intimate, quite glorious. I moan, thrusting my hips against him, seeking more friction.

  He dips his finger into my arse again, and more water drips from me. I feel the cool stream across my buttocks as it dribbles down to soak into the towel under my bum. I’m no longer particularly conscious of the cold—either the ice is more or less melted, or my body has acclimatized. Either way, Harry’s touch is pure bliss. He drives his finger deeper into my arse, at the same time drawing his tongue across the tip of my clit. He flicks the throbbing nub, and I lift my hips, offering more. Pleading for more. Harry provides, taking my clit between his lips and sucking hard.

  “Oh, God. Sir. I need to come.”

  “Not yet. I’ll tell you when you can come.”

  “Sir, it has to be now. I can’t…”

  “I’ll tell you when. Now concentrate.”

  His Dom tone brooks no argument, no disobedience. I writhe and squirm as he continues to flick my clit with his tongue, at the same time plunging two, then three fingers into my pussy. I feel the remaining ice shift and roll inside, the lumps much smaller now but still they knock against each other. Harry twirls his fingers deep inside, and more chilled water seeps into the towels. My climax surges from deep in my pussy—I know I won’t be able to resist it much longer. Harry is unrelenting, his talented fingers pressing the remaining ice against my inner walls as he curls his digits to massage the sweet spot just right.

  “Sir, Sir…”

  “Hold it, honey. Almost there.”

  I squeeze around him, gripping him hard, battling the pulsating pleasure threatening to overwhelm me at any moment. It’s a losing battle, but I try. Because he told me to.

  “Now. Come now, Hope.”

  Harry’s stern tone cuts through my haze of confused bliss, puts an instant stop to the chaotic inner war raging as I try to stave off my response. My orgasm pounds through me with the force of a tsunami, shattering my senses. I scream his name as wave after crashing wave of unadulterated ecstasy pours into every corner of my tingling body. I’m thrusting hard against his hands, his tongue, as Harry continues to stimulate me with all at his disposal. His skill is consummate, his accuracy unerring. Each time I think my climax has passed, he somehow finds the embers and whips them into life again, drawing out the pleasure for me.

  Eventually, even Harry’s talent can’t maintain such a crescendo. The tingling in my nerve endings subsides, my body returns to something akin to normal. It’s a sated, breathless, heart-still-racing sort of normal, but it will do.

  “I promised you nipple clamps. Sit up, please.” Harry pats my bum with the flat of his hand—a gentle tap but enough to suggest that things are about to get serious again.

  “But I’m tired. Can’t that wait?”

  “No. Busy day tomorrow. Auntie Janet and the rest of the Harrisons, remember?”

  “I know, but…”

  “Problem, Hope?” His tone has hardened. I know I need a damn good reason for arguing, or I’d better be shutting up now.

  “No, Sir.” I push myself to a sitting position as Harry gets out of the bed to stroll naked across the room. Despite my misgivings about what he has planned for the next few minutes—or longer—I have to admire the view. Harry’s butt is every bit as compelling to admire as the majestic Highland setting we’ve passed through to reach here. I watch with interest as he crouches to rummage in his holdall. He turns back to the bed, his right fist clasping something small.

  “Hold these for me, please.”

  I hold out my hand, and he drops two hairgrips and a tangle of rubber bands onto my palm. I can see that the grips have been bent a little out of shape, the arms wider than they would normally be. I’m not entirely sure how this is going to work, but Harry seems to know what he’s doing.

  “Would you like a drink, Hope?”

  I nod, realizing my mouth has gone dry. Harry can always tell. He passes me a small bottle of water, one of several he brought up here when we first checked in. I take it and gulp several mouthfuls down. Harry takes the now half-empty bottle, and extends his other palm for the improvised nipple clamps. I pass them to him. He places the collection on the bedside table then opens the top drawer. He takes out two long, narrow plastic strips—cable ties.

  “Okay. If you want more water just tell me. I’m going to fasten your hands behind your back for this. Turn around, if you would.”

  I bite back any protest and instead simply turn and cross my wrists in the small of my back. Again I tell myself Harry knows what he’s doing. If he says this will be fine, then it will be. I hope.

  “Trust me, honey. And remember you have your safe word. If you need to stop, we will.”

  I nod as Harry positions my hands as he wants them, each palm cupping the opposite elbow. He fastens the cable ties around my wrists, securing each one to my opposite forearm. The position thrusts my shoulders back and my breasts forward. Oh. God.

  I’m shaking. Despite all my best efforts and apparent confidence in Harry, I’m actually fucking shaking. Should I safe word now? He won’t mind. He said I could…

  Harry’s firm grip on the back of my neck halts my shaking instantly, grounding me, connecting me to him. He squeezes, his fingers tightening around the base of my skull, the action wholly possessive, absolute Dom. I drop my head back, melting against his solid strength.

  “Sir.” Not a question, not a statement really. Just…the right word to use.

  “Okay?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Sir.”

  “Any time, honey. Ready to turn and face me now?”

  Wordlessly I do as he asked. Harry encourages me to lean back against the pillows, arranging a pile of them behind my back and my shoulders to support my body. He is most solicitous regarding my comfort as he prepares to torture my nipples.

  “I want your nipples swollen and hard. You know how this works by now, I think, and you like this part, even though I will hurt you. You’re turning into quite the little pain slut but even you have your limits and I want you to tell me when it becomes too much. Midsomer means you can’t continue, and if you use that safe word I will stop. If you want me to slow down, say amber. Like in a traffic signal, okay? Does that make sense?”

  I nod, not able to trust my voice at this moment.

  “Hope? Anything to say? Anything you want to ask me?”

  I shake my head, my eyes tight shut.

  “Look at me, honey.”

  How does he do that with his voice, the tone so low, so gentle, but utterly compelling? I open my eyes, unable to do otherwise.

  “Your eyes will either be on my hands, watching what I’m doing to you, or you’ll be looking at me. Is that clear? Nothing else, no closing your eye
s, no looking away.” His eyebrow is raised, waiting for my answer, my acquiescence. He has it in the form of another small nod.

  “We start with the right nipple. Look at it, please.”

  Obedient, I drop my gaze to study my right breast. The innocent-looking nipple is already pink and pebbling under his scrutiny. Harry takes it between his fingers and thumb and caresses it, his touch tender, reverent.

  “So pretty. I love your breasts, Hope. So sensitive, responsive…” He drops his head to lick the swelling tip, a long, wet caress with the flat of his tongue. I groan, my head rolling back onto the pillows. He’s right, I do love this part, despite the pain that I know is coming.

  Harry presses his tongue underneath my hardening nipple, pushing it against his teeth as he sucks it. The pressure is divine, sensuous. I arch my back to offer him more. He chuckles as he releases my tingling bud, turning his attention to the other breast.

  “I instructed you to watch, Hope. I don’t want to have to remind you again.” His tone is perfectly modulated to generate just that exact degree of intimidation to grip my attention and hold it.

  “Sorry, Sir.” I sit upright, fix my gaze on my left breast as Harry molds it with his palm. He says nothing, just takes the deep pink bud between his fingers and squeezes. He’s not so gentle now, and I instantly wince. He glances at me, piles on more pressure. I let out a gasp, try to shrink back against the pillows.

  “Don’t fight me, and don’t cower. You have safe words. I expect to be hearing your safe words very soon. Are you there yet, Hope?”

  “No, Sir, I’m fine.”

  “I think not.”

  “It’s hard, Sir, but…”

  “Okay, eyes on me now.” I lift my gaze to his, watch as his eyes narrow, concentrating on me, my response.

  “Ow! Oh, Sir, that hurts.”

  Harry is now pinching both nipples hard, and twisting them. He pulls, his grip fierce, first the right, then the left. I scream, unable to contain my response.

  “Sir! Oh. Aagh!”

  Harry stops tugging, but the pressure remains in place. I gasp for air, my eyes still riveted on his. He lifts one eyebrow, waiting for the safe word. I shake my head rapidly, partly in denial, partly to clear my thinking. Where are my endorphins when I need them?

  “No, not yet, Sir.”

  “Very well.” He twists both nipples at once, slowly, inexorably.

  I’m gasping, grinding my teeth. “Amber! I mean yellow. Midsomer.”

  Harry stops immediately, though there’s no relaxing of the pressure. He grins at me. “Just amber would do. Midsomer means all stop. Is that what you want?”

  I shake my head, still gazing into his deep blue eyes. “No. Just… No more squeezing. Please. Sir.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Releasing my left nipple, he leans past me to pick up one of his adapted hairgrips. He winks at me as he slips it over my right nipple, the arms stretched on either side of the swollen, throbbing bud. He then takes a rubber band from his little pile and loops it a couple of times around his fingers before securing it across the open end of the grip, pulling the arms together. It’s not tight, nowhere near as tight as his fingers had been. I start to relax.

  And Harry starts to coil the rubber band around the hairgrip again. Another loop, and another, each turn squeezing the arms closer together, compressing my nipple mercilessly.

  I start to shake my head, my eyes now tearing up. My lips form the words, “Sir… Please.”

  Harry stops. “That’ll do, I think. Now the left.”

  The second clamp is less daunting, at least now I do know what to expect. Harry slips the grip into place and tightens it with the remaining rubber band. He watches my eyes, seemingly reading his signal that I’ve reached my limit from my expression rather than from my safe word now. It’s as good a yardstick as any, and he gets it spot on.

  Harry leans back to admire his handiwork, and I chance a look down. The hairgrips look innocuous enough, but their bite is ferocious. I’m just this side of safe wording, my nipples tortured, pressed almost beyond my endurance. Harry cradles my jaw in his hand, lifting my gaze back to his.

  “Breathe in and out slowly. Look at me, breathe past the pain. It’ll feel less severe in a moment or two, as you adjust. Let it slip away, concentrate on the pleasure instead.”

  “The…pleasure?”

  “Yes. Doesn’t this feel good?” He feathers the tip of his index finger over my right nipple. His touch is gossamer light but I’m so sensitive now that it feels incredibly intense. Erotic and tantalizing. If he pressed even slightly it would be too much, it would be unbearable and I’d have to scream red. But the merest whisper of his hand is delightful. My nipple is tingling. I groan, eager for his caress. Harry dips his head down, flicks my left nipple with his tongue. The pressure is harder, but not too much. Not quite too much. I groan, my senses shimmering, every nerve ending linked to my distended nubs.

  “More, Hope?” Harry murmurs the question.

  I can only nod.

  He takes my left nipple carefully between his lips, the flutter of his breath against the pebbled bud both excruciating and mouth-watering. I rest my head back against the pillow, my eyelids drooping. I half expect Harry to instruct me to open my eyes again, but he doesn’t. He scrapes his teeth against my nipple, slow, and oh so very light. My pussy is spasming, the moisture pooling under me. I spread my thighs, wishing he might…

  He’s there almost before I think it, cupping me, the heel of his hand pressed against my clit. He dips two fingers inside the entrance to my pussy, circling them around my inner lips.

  “Come when you want to, little slut.” He murmurs the words against my breast, as I writhe under him.

  An almost-caress against my swollen right tip makes me gasp, but the pain is somehow dissolving and reforming, bubbles of pure pleasure erupting through my system.

  “Oh God, Harry. Sir, I…”

  “I want you to come, honey. Now.”

  “I’m near, so near.”

  “Now!” Harry’s tone is stern and uncompromising, sufficient to tip me over into the abyss. I’m falling, no—floating. Weightless, drifting on a cushion of pleasure and pain, my senses shattering. My body is shaking again, though this time it’s the waves of unadulterated ecstasy causing the reaction. Harry’s fingers are on me, in me, his hand massaging my clit as he continues the delicate suction on my nipple. His other hand is now on the back of my neck again, holding me, calming me. Claiming me.

  My orgasm drifts past, my senses return. I lie motionless, conscious again of the pain in my nipples now that the pleasure haze is receding. The tight clamps are still in place, gripping me fiercely.

  “Please, could you take them off?”

  “Sure, honey.” He leans across me again to pick up a small pocketknife. He extends the blade and slices through the rubber bands, first one then the other in rapid succession. The hairgrips spring apart, releasing me instantly. I scream in absolute agony as the blood rushes back and all sensation hits overload.

  “Christ, Oh God, Harry.” I’m sobbing as Harry lays his hands over my breasts and rubs hard, restoring circulation fast. Now that the pressure brings relief, I arch into his hands, silently begging.

  “Okay, I have you. Is it easier now?”

  Incredibly, it is. The pain was blinding, but over in seconds. I relax, my body sagging against the pillows.

  “I’m going to fuck you now, little slut.”

  “Yes, Sir. Yes, please.” I spread my legs, angling my hips upwards.

  “Jesus, you are one seriously gorgeous sight, Miss Shepherd. What did I do to get so lucky?”

  “You made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, Sir.”

  “So I did. Maybe I should make you another.”

  “Perhaps, Sir. But could you fuck me first?”

  “Ah yes, we should get our priorities right.”

  I moan in absolute bliss as he sinks his cock into me—no further preamble, he just buries himself
balls deep in my pussy.

  “Yes, oh yes. More, Sir. Can you…? Harder, deeper.”

  He hooks his hands behind my legs and lifts them, opening me wider. He places my ankles on his shoulders, leaning into me to raise my bum from the bed. My hands are still secured behind my back, my vulnerability accentuated by the position. He is all Dom, all control, and I’m reveling in my helplessness. Vulnerable, submissive, I surrender totally.

  Harry seems to be attuned to that moment when I become his, to do with as he will now. He leans down farther to trace my lips with his tongue before placing his mouth over mine. I open for him—his tongue plunges inside to taste and tangle. I make a low sound, deep in my throat, whether of protest or entreaty I’m not sure. I’m drowning, spinning, lost in this moment. And scared. Harry senses this—he must sense it—because it’s there again, that steadying hand on the back of my neck. That touch, that firm grip that caresses, controls and calms me. My moan now is of utter contentment as Harry slams his cock into me hard, and I open myself completely to welcome him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “It’s a pity we only took this place for one night. I could easily spend more time here. It’s a beautiful spot.” I make my observation as we enjoy a late, leisurely breakfast before moving on to the car ferry. We’re seated outside the mill on the flagged terrace, Daisy stretched out by Harry’s feet. I suspect she’s hoping he might drop a piece of toast or perhaps a few crumbs of croissant. No such luck. It’s a glorious summer’s morning, the early sunshine dappling through the trees and painting constantly moving patterns across the patio.

  “It is. Should I get on to Jill, ask her to extend our stay?” Harry helps himself to more marmalade, provided courtesy of the hotel who left a welcome hamper of essentials for us when we arrived yesterday. I expect we have the superlative efficiency of the McLeod secretarial service to thank for it.

  “What about Auntie Janet? And the Harrison clan?” It’s a nice thought—better than nice. But not to be.