Learning to Crawl

by John Argus

  She looked at him dazedly.

  ‘Say it.’

  ‘Sir,’ she whispered.

  He released her nipples, guiding the head of his erection to her yearning opening. ‘Again.’

  ‘Sir, fuck me,’ she panted. ‘Use me… use me hard and ungghhhh…’

  He drove himself into her with a single, brutal thrust that hurt, but after the initial shock and pain she drove herself up to meet him. Her ankles pulled against the straps holding them down as she tried to draw her legs up around him. The sensation of being pinned down was wicked and spurred her arousal even higher. ‘Yes… yes… ohhhh…’ She climaxed beneath him, her pussy spasming around his savagely rutting cock, aching from the force of his thrusts even as ferocious pleasure consumed her.

  The orgasm was overwhelming, and she fell limp and slack-jawed as it finally left her.

  She lay still beneath him as he continued to use her body, grunting mildly as he drove into her again and again, body jerking in time to his thrusts, fingers twitching feebly above the binding straps.

  He finished and lay briefly atop her, then rolled off, sat up and walked away. But she did not care. She groaned weakly, looking up at her reflection in the mirror, then smiled lazily at herself, arched her back a little, posing, eyes gazing at the straps holding her ankles and wrists with interest and excitement. She pulled at the straps, watching the movement of her body, imagining herself a helpless prisoner struggling against lewd, evil men. Strong men. Men capable of anything. Men like this one.

  Chapter 2

  He wandered into the room, holding two glasses. He’d put on a pair of shorts, and looked quite impressive to her still hungry eyes.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and set one of the glasses down on the bedside table.

  ‘Bastard,’ she said challengingly.

  ‘Why?’ He ran his free hand casually over her body and she swallowed and brought a stern look to her face.

  ‘Sir?’ she demanded.

  ‘It’s a good word,’ he replied, his fingers pinching her nipple lightly.

  ‘Do you think I’m your servant or something?’

  He smiled and she felt a sinking sensation, wondering if she was being far less subtle than she thought. It occurred to her that at twenty she might not be quite as sophisticated as she thought, at least compared to a man old enough to be her stepfather. ‘Would you like to be?’

  He plucked an ice cube from his glass and held it over her. Cold droplets fell onto her breasts, sending little shocks through her overheated body.

  ‘Don’t,’ she gasped.

  ‘Servants don’t give orders,’ he said mildly, then lowered his hand to her chest, the ice cube held against her body, then slowly, lazily, slid it down between her breasts and then up once again, circling her left breast as she writhed on the bed, letting the ice cube ease inward until it was sliding back and forth across her straining nipple.

  ‘It’s t-t-too cold,’ she moaned, arching her back and straining against the straps.

  He smiled and drew the cube back, then let his finger circle the stiff pink nipple. Small goose bumps were standing up on the pale flesh around it, and her areola was studded with tiny bumps. He bent and covered the area with his mouth, sucking softly, his tongue teasingly lapping across it.

  ‘Christ,’ she breathed, closing her eyes briefly.

  ‘Would you like me to keep you chained here for a while?’ he asked, smiling lazily.

  She blinked and tried to concentrate, remembering her primary reason for approaching him in the first place. ‘I ah, as it happens I just got into town,’ she said weakly. ‘I don’t have a place to stay yet.’

  He snorted, and then chuckled lightly as his hand moved between her legs and she hissed and arched her back as the ice cube slid up her furrow, then popped lightly inside.

  ‘You were pointed out to me, you know.’ He pulled the ice cube back, and after a moment to process his words she stared at him in confusion. ‘You think no one knows?’ Gwen tried to keep her face from showing any response as he grinned down at her. ‘Papa cut off his little girl and she’s now looking for a sugar daddy to keep her until he relents.’

  ‘Don’t be absurd,’ she said feebly.

  He leaned in and trailed his lips over her nipple, then brought his eyes to within inches of hers. ‘If I drive you home now where will you go? What address will you give me? Central Park?’

  ‘I have money,’ she said weakly.

  ‘Want me to drive you somewhere?’

  She did not answer.

  ‘You haven’t got the money to pay the door charge at any of these clubs. If you weren’t so cute and they didn’t let you in for free you’d be begging on the streets.’

  ‘Untie me,’ she demanded, falling back on her custom of acting imperiously when embarrassed.

  ‘Not so fast.’

  ‘Untie me at once!’ she snapped.

  ‘And what will you do if I don’t?’

  She stared at him. Not do it? But of course he must. How could he not?

  ‘Perhaps I’ll just keep you here and use you again and again and again. How does that sound?’

  ‘You will release me at once,’ she said, as calmly as she could manage.

  His fingers slid down between her thighs, and the muscles moved beneath her skin as she instinctively sought to twist away. She was still chilly there from the ice cube, and exquisitely sensitive.

  ‘Stop it,’ she demanded, but his fingers manipulated her sex with careless ease, and she felt her body begin to respond. His other hand moved up over her breasts, stroking and kneading, rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger.

  ‘It’s so cold outside, isn’t it?’ he teased. ‘It’s freezing out there.’ His hand moved from her breast, then returned with one of the ice cubes.

  ‘Oh…’ it sizzled against her nipple as he rubbed in slow, taunting circles. Drips of water rolled down the curved surface of her breast, changing course as her back arched and twisted.

  ‘Imagine living here with me, letting me ravish you night after night, living in the lap of luxury.’

  Her nipple was so cold it burned, and then the ice was gone and his mouth replaced it, massaging gently, the tongue caressing lightly. The cold seeped away and her nipple, deliciously sensitive, throbbed and glowed within his mouth.

  ‘Wh-what are you doing to me?’ she moaned.

  ‘Nothing,’ he smiled innocently. ‘I wouldn’t want to do anything against your will. Come to think of it, you wanted to be untied, didn’t you?’ He pulled back, then casually and quickly undid the straps binding her wrists and ankles. ‘Get dressed,’ he said, ‘you can leave now.’

  He picked up his glass and left the room as Gwendolyn sat up, staring after him. She felt astonished at his sudden departure, resentful, indignant, and, she admitted, sliding a hand down between her legs, extremely aroused.

  Damn!

  She thought about what he had said, mortified at the thought that people knew, that they had been watching her and whispering about her, that they knew not only of her poverty but of her attempts to find someone to let her stay with them. And now she’d irritated this strange man and he was throwing her out.

  She almost cried, and felt her eyes filling even as she rose from the bed. She could not go back to those clubs – not now, not ever.

  That realisation stopped her cold for a moment. The only alternative seemed to be calling her stepfather and admitting she was useless, helpless and still too much of a child to look after herself.

  The man’s jacket was draped over the arm of a chair. She went to it and yanked out her mini, then slid the small square around her hips and clipped the chain in place. She pulled on her halter and, shrouding herself in dignity, strolled arrogantly out of the bedroom.

&nbs
p; The penthouse was enormous. The floor and walls of the corridor outside were of polished marble, with crystal globed lamps set into the walls. Her heels clicked on the floor as she made her way to the end, and there found herself before a railing overlooking what she supposed was the main room.

  She was desperate to convince him to let her stay, but she could not ask, would not ask. It would be too degrading. She should leave; simply get in the elevator and go. But she could not bring herself to do so. Instead she stepped down from the entrance hall and moved as casually as she could manage across the room.

  The floor to ceiling glass wall at its end overlooked a terrace almost as large as the room, with trees and flowerbeds scattered along one side, and a group of ornate iron tables placed against a chest-high wall. He was standing by the glass doors, looking out, and she strolled over, unable to keep her eyes from straying to the magnificent view.

  ‘How high are we?’ she asked unwillingly.

  ‘Fifty three floors.’

  A forest of skyscrapers filled the world around them, most much lower than they. Gwendolyn felt as though she were in a cloud.

  He turned and looked at her. ‘Weren’t you going?’

  ‘You sound like you want to get rid of me,’ she said with a weak laugh.

  ‘No, I just thought you wanted to leave, to get back to… wherever.’

  She blushed. Rotten arrogant bastard! ‘I didn’t say that. I just…’ she was caught by a lack of words.

  ‘Had to be getting back home in case you missed curfew?’

  ‘I don’t have a curfew,’ she said cuttingly.

  ‘No? Finished high school already?’ He smirked.

  ‘You weren’t treating me like a high school girl in there,’ she countered defiantly.

  ‘How do you know how I treat high school girls?’

  She shrugged casually, looking out the window.

  ‘You aren’t very sophisticated about sexual behaviour, are you?’ he went on.

  She looked up in surprise, and then blushed as she considered his words; did he think she wasn’t any good? That would be simply too humiliating! ‘What do you mean by that?’ she demanded.

  ‘When I put on the straps you seemed… shocked.’

  ‘I wasn’t shocked,’ she said defensively. ‘I was just… a little surprised. I mean, I don’t often get tied to a bed.’

  ‘You were aroused by it,’ he observed.

  ‘Maybe. So?’

  ‘I think inside that mask of sophistication you wear is a teenage virgin with big round eyes.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she snapped.

  He reached down and casually raised her skirt and she flinched back, gasping, staring at the window. He raised his eyebrows. ‘Afraid someone will see you?’

  ‘Well… well yes, actually,’ she said indignantly.

  ‘And so what if they did?’

  Damn, she was acting like a child, and then it occurred to her that she’d never had anything much to do with older men. They were, after all, her stepfather’s sort of people. Why on earth would she want to be around them? And yet obviously they had to be more sophisticated, at least in some ways, merely for having been around longer. Yet the idea of being seen as unsophisticated, as common, was anathema to her.

  She stepped back, glowering up at him. ‘I don’t see you dropping your trousers to show everyone what’s inside.’

  ‘Ah, but what I have inside isn’t nearly so lovely. And it’s only impressive when it’s awake.’ He smirked a little, and then reached around to unhook her halter. She started to react, then stopped and let him. It dropped to the floor and he reached to caress the underside of one breast.

  ‘You still haven’t told me your name,’ she gulped.

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  She thought back in confusion, but could recall nothing.

  ‘Sir,’ he said. ‘And your name is?’

  ‘My name is Gwendolyn,’ she said with a scowl.

  He shrugged and took her arm. ‘Let me show you the place.’

  He took her arm and led her through the living room and down a second hall. It felt quite odd to her to be walking about without a top, but then she’d done it before, hadn’t she? In France, at the beach the previous two summers. Yes, and hadn’t many people seen her, too? So this was surely nothing to be bothered by; a sophisticated woman wouldn’t think twice of it.

  And the penthouse was all he had described. There was a billiards room, a movie theatre, several small sitting rooms, a library, a greenhouse full of colourful flowers with another marvellous view of the city, and a swimming pool, half of which was within a glass wall, the other half outside on another large terrace. There was a sauna, whirlpool baths and gym, all of them brightly lit and decorated, with large glass windows.

  And then he led her into another room. It was an inside room, with no windows, and the walls were of heavy, gleaming mahogany. Chains hung from the ceiling, and frames with attached straps and shackles were spread around the room. There were shackles set into the wall, and posts with attached chains set into the floor.

  On one wall was a rack that contained an astonishing variety of whips, flogs, quirts, canes, straps and paddles. Set into it on a shelf beneath was leather bondage devices, and on a second shelf were dildos and vibrators.

  Gwendolyn was awed at first, then frightened. She turned and gave him a nervous look. ‘Your own little torture chamber,’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘You were looking for a place to stay.’ He motioned to a cage set against the wall.

  ‘Oh no,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I think not.’

  He chuckled. ‘Oh, I don’t expect you to sleep here, or even spend much time here. I brought you here because I think you’re a natural submissive and I think we could enjoy each other’s company a good deal.’

  ‘I might find being… being tied up a bit of a kick, on occasion,’ she said warily, ‘but I’ve no intention of being whipped or anything like that.’ But even as she spoke she felt a strange sense of disorientation. What would it be like to be whipped? She looked at one of the chains and imagined hanging by the wrists, naked, being beaten.

  ‘What about spanked?’ he asked, cupping her bottom through the short skirt.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ she snorted and jerked away, but he took her suddenly, swinging her round and pushing her against a low table, then bending her forward.

  ‘Stop it!’ she shrieked. ‘Let me go!’

  He tugged her skirt undone and she felt the cool air on her buttocks. ‘What a beautiful sight,’ he whispered. ‘You have one of the finest bottoms I’ve ever seen, my dear.’

  Indignation warred with pride, but both were outdone by alarm as a hand caressed her buttocks. ‘Don’t you dare hit me,’ she warned, trying again to twist away, but he simply gripped both her wrists, lifted them up behind her head and held them there.

  ‘Are you afraid, Gwendolyn?’ he goaded.

  ‘I-I’m not afraid,’ she said indignantly.

  ‘You look it,’ he mused. ‘The thought of being spanked is terrifying you, isn’t it?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she snorted unconvincingly.

  ‘It doesn’t scare you?’

  ‘I don’t like pain,’ she said. ‘That doesn’t mean a spanking frightens me.’

  The hand slipped between her legs and cupped her sex, then began to slide in and out between her thighs, rubbing her. She wanted to curse him but instead found her legs shifting apart.

  ‘What is pain but heat?’ he said. ‘And what is pleasure but heat? How do you tell them apart when they arrive at the same time?’

  Was he crazy?

  The hand moved back.

  ‘Spread your legs,’ he ordered flatly.

 
‘I – I won’t…’

  ‘Spread your legs,’ he barked.

  She flinched and then obeyed, surprising herself.

  ‘Lovely,’ he said. ‘This is you in all your glory.’ He let go of her wrists, but she did not try to rise.

  ‘Lift your bottom a little,’ he directed. ‘Yes, perfect, you could charge for this view.’

  He was disgusting! Yet she felt the heat within her flickering back to life. She had been so close to coming again before he untied her and now she was blatantly open and exposed to him, lewdly displaying herself before a man as old as her stepfather whom she’d barely met!

  ‘You want me inside you, don’t you, slut?’ he said.

  Slut? How dare he?

  He laid his hands on her hips, then slowly, gently, stroked up her sides to her ribs, his fingers easing under to massage her breasts. Gwen fought to control her breathing, but had little success.

  Then a hand cracked lightly against her bottom and she yelped at the sharp pain, jerking upright. He folded his arms across his chest, looking at her without expression as she glared and rubbed her bottom.

  Here was a dangerous man, and she felt a dark excitement at the thought.

  ‘I could stay…’ she motioned back at the open door, ‘in your penthouse?’

  He nodded.

  ‘As what?’

  ‘As my guest.’

  ‘Your guest?’ she asked doubtfully.

  ‘My obedient guest.’

  ‘Obedient? And what if you did something I didn’t want? I mean, what if you wanted to… to spank me and I said no?’

  ‘Use your finger to push the elevator button and then walk away,’ he answered simply, and even as she felt a slight fear at the idea of placing herself at his mercy, she felt a strange dark excitement matching it.

  She would be a captive to his lusts, a prisoner, chained and used.

  What wicked things would he force her to do? How often would he use her body to satisfy his perverted male lust?

  The idea was insane of course, and he was crazy. And yet…

  ‘Of course, you’d have to earn your keep,’ he added.