A Taste of Passion

by Ashley Lister

  If she’d been able to read her friend’s eyes, Trudy guessed she would have seen Charlotte glancing towards the café that faced them. She wondered if there was someone over there that Charlotte was looking for. She started turning, trying to get a better glimpse of whoever it was with the baseball cap and all the catering plasters on their fingers.

  ‘Well,’ Charlotte began evasively. ‘It’s not exactly returning.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘We’re not asking you to return. Not as a partner.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Donny said we could employ you. He said you’d been kinda mean and –’

  ‘Jesus, Charlotte. Are you two kicking me out of Sweet Temptation?’

  ‘Donny said you’d walked.’

  ‘And he didn’t have the balls to come here and discuss this in person?’

  ‘He didn’t know I was coming here to talk with you.’

  Trudy sucked a deep breath. The anger rose inside her from nowhere. She tried to remind herself that she should calm down but she was suddenly furious that Donny had thrown her out of the partnership and it looked like Charlotte was taking his side. The outrage was not helping her to discuss the matter in a rational and controlled manner but Trudy felt as though it was justified.

  ‘Donny didn’t know you were coming here to see me?’ she demanded. ‘If Donny didn’t know we were meeting, then how come I just saw him at the café over the road, watching us?’

  Charlotte’s head shifted slightly and she glanced where Trudy was pointing.

  ‘That must be a different bloke with an Armani jacket like Donny’s. Please, hon. Be reasonable about this. Let us pay you a decent rate and we can start Sweet Temptation trading in the next week. It’s what we’ve all dreamed of, isn’t it?’

  Trudy shook her head and stood up. She had heard enough. If she stayed any longer she knew she would say something that neither of them would be able to forget.

  ‘I don’t know what hold Donny has over you at the moment, Charlotte,’ she said quietly. ‘But once you’ve realised it’s unhealthy, I hope you know I’ll always be around to help you get your life back in order.’

  Charlotte shook her head as though she’d been slapped.

  Trudy started to walk away.

  ‘Trudy?’

  From behind her, Trudy could hear the sound of Charlotte’s chair being pushed back as she stood up and started trying to follow her. ‘Please, hon,’ Charlotte called. ‘Come back. We can’t leave it like this.’

  Trudy could hear Charlotte starting after her but a barista rushed out to stop her from escaping without paying for her espresso. Charlotte tried to shake the man away but he held onto her arm and insisted on payment.

  Trudy took advantage of the moment to walk briskly away and lose herself in the busy marketplace. Across the road, at the competitor’s café, she caught a glimpse of Donny in his Armani jacket. He was deep in conversation with the other man she had seen earlier. The one with his face covered by the baseball cap. Trudy still didn’t recognise him but she had a nasty feeling that she was seeing something dangerous and ugly.

  ‘Bastards,’ she muttered.

  It hurt that she had lost the friendship of Donny and Charlotte, especially as she wasn’t sure what she had done to earn their animosity. It hurt that she had been expelled from the partnership of Sweet Temptation, even though the company had not properly started trading. Throughout her years of studying the idea of being a part of Sweet Temptation had been the goal that kept her working towards achievement and success. But, she reasoned, this latest turn of events made her realise that she had made the right decision in leaving the letter by William Hart’s kettle.

  Dear Mr Hart,

  I would like to formally accept your proposed offer of two positions:

  1) Boui-Boui’s sous, terms and conditions to be discussed.

  2) Your live-in spankmaid.

  I trust we can work out the finer details upon my return.

  Ms T. McLaughlin.

  Her mobile rang softly in her bag.

  She retrieved it without looking at the caller ID.

  ‘Ms McLaughlin,’ Hart purred.

  He sounded as though he had just climbed from his bed. In the background she could hear the shriek of the espresso machine. She dearly wished she was in the kitchen with him. She would love to be drinking in the scent of ground coffee beans and the heady fragrance of being near Bill.

  ‘I’ve just read your letter.’

  She refused to let him hear any trace of sadness in her voice. ‘I’m on my way back now. Will we be able to negotiate those terms and conditions pertaining to my employment as sous?’

  ‘Terms and conditions?’

  ‘Wages. Hours. Holidays.’

  There was a pause. ‘I think we’ll be able to find time to discuss those terms and conditions. I’m hoping we’ll be able to discuss the details about the other position too.’

  ‘Which position is that, Mr Hart?’

  ‘Your role as my live-in spankmaid, Ms McLaughlin.’

  The words were enough to banish her sour mood. When he talked about her being his live-in spankmaid a flurry of hot liquid warmth rushed through her loins. The memory of her upset from Charlotte and Donny was not even a consideration. All that mattered was the knowledge that they both shared similar appetites.

  ‘How are we going to discuss that role?’ she asked.

  ‘I thought, when you returned, I could have you bend over my kitchen counter and I could spank your backside until we decide on the preferred method of practice.’

  ‘Very good, Mr Hart. I’ll be back shortly.’

  Chapter 21

  Bending over Hart’s kitchen counter was beginning to feel like the most natural position in the world. She had found the exact location where her toes should be placed on the tiles. It was only a small detail but it made it easier to be in the same spot each time, so that they could repeatedly recreate the perfection of the experience of spanking in his private kitchen. She bent forward, so that her backside was raised to the perfect height. The muscles inside her thighs were stretched taut in this position. Her entire body trembled with anticipation. She held her breath and waited expectantly for Hart to administer her punishment.

  ‘Are we agreed on terms for your employment as my sous?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart.’

  He was holding a spatula. When he slapped it down hard against her cheek she wanted to melt into the bliss of the sensation. Her rear was warmed. Her need for him was growing. She didn’t think she’d ever been happier.

  It had been maddening in the shower that morning to discover that there were no belt marks remaining on her buttocks. She had thought the punishment he delivered outside, beneath the archway, had been harsh. But, whilst it had been strong enough to push her beyond the brink of orgasm, it hadn’t been so severe that it left a remaining mark on the peach-like mounds of her arse cheeks.

  She was sure because she had spent a leisurely half hour studying every inch of skin in meticulous detail. Not that she wanted to be permanently scarred.

  That idea was exciting but it didn’t really arouse her.

  However, she had enjoyed the sensation of carrying those marks that demonstrated how much passion they shared and she wanted the red stripes of his discipline to linger a little longer. The desire to be temporarily branded was a difficult concept to rationalise but, rather than brood on the matter and try to intellectualise her physical response, she figured it was easier to simply bend over his kitchen counter and hope he could again rekindle her excitement whilst chastising her bare buttocks.

  ‘You’re happy with the pay scale we discussed, Ms McLaughlin?’

  It was a generous arrangement. It wasn’t embarrassingly generous but she saw there was potential for her income to reach those heights if she stayed with Boui-Boui.

  ‘I’m very happy with the pay scale, Mr Hart.’

  He slapped the spatula against her rear.

&n
bsp; It made a delightful smacking sound. There was no discomfort. Only a wonderful warming through the cheeks that quickly nestled in the crease of her sex. She closed her eyes and basked in the growing arousal. Whenever she was with Bill it was easy to see the problems of her world in their proper perspective. Charlotte was unhappy; Donny was being unscrupulous; the partnership behind Sweet Temptation had been dissolved; but none of that was as important as sharing quality time with Bill Hart whilst he punished her buttocks and introduced her to new levels of lurid, sexual excitement.

  ‘You’re happy with the holiday agreement, Ms McLaughlin?’

  She was more than happy with the holiday agreement. When she considered the generous pay arrangements, the favourably-structured bonus scheme and the prestige of working in Boui-Boui, the whole deal was more than she had dared hope to achieve within the first month following graduation. There had been other offers and invitations since she left university, she had mentioned them to Bill when they were negotiating terms, but a position as sous at Boui-Boui had to be the most prestigious opportunity she could possibly be offered.

  And it was a position that came with so many added benefits.

  ‘I’m very happy with the holiday agreement, Mr Hart.’

  He slapped her other cheek with the spatula.

  The warmth that came from the blow shifted her closer to the plateau of pleasure where she wanted to reside. Her heartbeat raced. The muscles inside her sex turned fluid in response to Hart’s meticulously delivered punishment. Trudy wanted to yield for him. She could not recall feeling happier and she was about to say as much.

  ‘Should we now discuss the terms of you being my live-in spankmaid?’

  Before she could reply he had swatted her again with the spatula. This blow was sharper than the previous ones. This one landed like a wasp sting and startled her with an unexpected rush of fiery excitement.

  She swallowed before trusting herself to respond. If she hadn’t taken a moment to control her breathing she knew the words would have come out in a ragged sigh.

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart.’

  Another swat.

  This one made her gasp.

  ‘You agree to being addressed as Ms McLaughlin, Ms McLaughlin?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart.’

  Another swat.

  ‘And you’ll respond to that name?’

  The bite was so sharp she sucked an exclamation of air. The pain in her cheeks began to blossom with the rich and full promise of an impending explosion.

  Was that really all it took?

  She marvelled that her body could be so responsive to punishment. Then she wondered if her excitement had come from the punishment. Or was she responding to him?

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart.’

  ‘You agree to call me Mr Hart when we’re involved in intimate play?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart.’

  Another swat. This one was dangerously close to the crease of her sex. She held herself still as the surge of pleasure began to build in her loins. She had never previously felt so close to being spanked to the point of orgasm and she marvelled that her reactions were so powerful. At the back of her mind she catalogued the expression ‘intimate play’ and decided she liked it as a way of describing the things that she and Bill did together.

  No, she corrected herself.

  She and Bill didn’t do things together.

  She did these things with Mr Hart.

  ‘You agree to endure acceptable punishment whenever and however I decide.’

  She swallowed, shocked by how easy it was to acquiesce to his demands. For an instant she thought about asking if they could discuss the exact terms, rather than just deciding that he would be the ideal person to negotiate what constituted acceptable punishment. Then, when he landed the spatula with another wicked nip at her buttock, she realised there was no need to discuss the matter further: Mr Hart was the ideal person to fulfil such a role.

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart,’ she breathed.

  ‘Very good, Ms McLaughlin.’

  Another swat. She wanted to howl but couldn’t work out if the sound would have come from pleasure or anguish or some unreal combination of both responses. Her pulse raced and trembled with the need to climax.

  ‘Your duties as spankmaid will not be challenging. You will agree to bend over and accept punishment whenever I tell you. Do you understand, Ms McLaughlin?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart.’

  ‘You will also be responsible for sexually satisfying me whenever I demand intimate play.’

  She could feel the excess moisture of her arousal spilling down her thighs. She wondered if he had noticed that his words had inspired so much fluid excitement. In her mind’s eye she could picture a trickle of wetness trailing from her sex and dribbling downwards.

  He slapped the spatula against her inner thigh. The sharp sting landed hard against a fluid-silvered stretch of sensitive skin. As the thrill of pain subsided she understood that he was not oblivious to her excitement. He knew exactly how much excitement he had created. She could hear as much in the deepening rasp of his voice and the faltering growl of every syllable.

  ‘There will be various ways in which you can satisfy me, Ms McLaughlin.’

  He slapped twice at her with the spatula. The stings were delightfully wicked kisses that pushed her close to a point of elation.

  ‘You can service me with your hands or mouth, or you can simply make yourself available to my lascivious needs.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart.’

  ‘In return,’ he went on, ‘I shall endeavour to make sure I try and cater to your depraved appetites.’

  The spatula slapped hard once more.

  She was squeezing her inner muscles tight and shivering through the start of a climax. When he placed a finger on the edge of her sex lips, teasing her silky wet flesh as though he was about to slip the digit inside, Trudy thought the moment of her climax was about to arrive.

  She held herself rigid and willed the pleasure to rush through her.

  ‘Do you understand what I mean when I say I’ll endeavour to cater to your depraved appetites, Ms McLaughlin?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart.’

  She wanted to scream for him to slip the finger inside. It lingered on the rim of her sex like an unspoken promise of his intentions. She knew, as soon as it pushed into her, the dam of her orgasm would break in a cataclysmic rush.

  ‘Do you understand and agree to all our terms, Ms McLaughlin?’

  She moaned and wondered why he was tormenting her so needlessly.

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart,’ she sighed. ‘Yes. I understand.’

  He pushed the finger inside.

  The climax came in a slippery rush. Her inner muscles clutched and trembled around his finger. The throb of her orgasm came with such ferocity she could feel the explosion being pushed from her body. The rush of satisfaction seemed to make itself known in every pore.

  She groaned and savoured the sensations as they buffeted her frame.

  He waited until the pleasure had begun to subside before idly sliding his finger from her. ‘Would you like to service me now, Ms McLaughlin?’

  She turned around and fell to her knees. Without needing to say a word she unzipped his pants and removed his erection. His length was hard and already pulsing with the same need that pulsed in her loins. Glancing slyly up at him from her place on the floor, Trudy licked twice at his exposed length and then took him in her mouth.

  If this was one of the duties of being Mr Hart’s spankmaid, she decided that Ms Trudy McLaughlin was happy to have landed such an enviable role.

  She kept her mouth over the end of his hardness and savoured the sensation of having him there. She could feel his rounded end sitting on her tongue, radiating heat and the subtle flavour of his essence. Surprising herself with her own ingenuity, she moved her head away from him and drew a deep breath. After appraising the situation critically for a moment, she gripped the base of his shaft with one curled fist.

  ‘What are you doing, Ms McLaughl
in?’

  Trudy wasn’t sure what she was doing. This wasn’t an act she had ever contemplated with Peter, despite that it seemed to have been the climactic scene in every one of the adult films he had suggested they sit through. Acting only on instinct, she kept hold of his shaft and began to lick the length with long, slow and loving laps from her tongue.

  ‘I think I’m trying to make this better for you,’ she admitted between kisses.

  She stared up at him from her place on the floor. Her eyes were as wide open as her mouth. Her tongue was spread flat as she drew it along his length and then curled it around the throbbing end of his hardness.

  Hart seemed momentarily speechless.

  She savoured the flavour of his seed. It was an intoxicating taste that made her yearn for him with greater urgency. The end of his length leaked a slightly-sweetened saltiness that could have been overpowering if it hadn’t reminded her so fully of him and all that she found desirable in him. Trudy massaged his end with her lips and then used her tongue again to stroke lazy upward licks against his shaft.

  His fingers fell to her hair, pulling tight.

  She enjoyed the surge of discomfort tearing through her scalp.

  Glancing up at him, watching the smile of pleasure straining on his features, she knew this was an extreme of satisfaction for him that compared to the extreme of pleasure he had shown her each time he delivered a spanking. Taking him fully in her mouth, sucking hard and enjoying the taste of him, she knew this was going to be an act that she never grew tired of performing if it made him so happy. She quietly vowed to continue until his ejaculate had hit the back of her throat.

  Chapter 22

  The heat in the kitchen was marvellously intolerable. Trudy could feel the perspiration sheening her brow. Despite the upset of arguing with Charlotte, despite the peculiar behaviour she had seen in Donny, Trudy had enjoyed a good afternoon with Bill before they had needed to go to work in Boui-Boui’s kitchens.

  He had given her the spanking she needed.

  The pleasure they had shared remained at the forefront of her thoughts. During the first two days of knowing him she had learnt he was a remarkable lover. After an hour in his presence there remained a day’s worth of aches between her legs and in the pit of her stomach.