by Ashe Barker
“I’m so sorry. I truly am.” I still can’t believe I actually did that. Bodily attacking him on the front steps.
He smiles, but his expression is serious. “I know you are, but we’ll come back to that. And you already know how that’s going to pan out.”
I squirm on the bed, my pussy clenching treacherously at the mention of spankings yet to come. He shakes his head, and I swear he knows just how wet my knickers are already becoming.
“For now, Miss Jones, you can satisfy my curiosity if you would. Why were you so angry with me yesterday? I mean, I know I spanked you, back then when we met at the club, and probably scared you a bit. But I thought we parted on reasonable terms.”
“We did. It was me.” I’m muttering, wishing he wouldn’t press me on this, insist on an explanation, though of course at some level I always knew he would. I wish I could explain without sounding just plain weird.
“What was you?”
“I just…I mean…I felt…” I’m at a loss.
He interrupts my stammering, trying another tack, “You disappeared straight after we parted. Why was that?”
Now I’m surprised. How does he know when I left? I open my mouth to ask.
“Freya was worried. She asked me—or at least she got Nick to. She expected you home after your visit to the club, but you never showed up.”
“I went to Bristol. On impulse, sort of. I wanted my old job back…”
He frowns, clearly puzzled. “I see. And did you get it?”
“No.”
“But still you stayed away. Four months? Five? Sounds like more than a mere whim to me. Sounds like a massive sulk. And I’m guessing it wasn’t Freya you were mad at.”
“I wasn’t sulking.”
“Whatever. But it was me you were pissed off with, right?”
I fall silent, feeling trapped. How is it that Daniel Riche can home in on my greatest insecurities with such unerring accuracy? He sees straight through me. But still, I can’t say, can’t tell him. I can’t find the words to explain. I don’t have to. He knows.
“I made a mistake with you. I stuck to the rules, but I think now I was perhaps too rigid. I ignored my instincts. I should have fucked you that night. That was what you wanted, wasn’t it?”
I start to shake my head, not needing the further humiliation of admitting to my need. His rejection was enough. I see no point in now dwelling on it, rubbing it in. But he doesn’t let me deny it.
“Well, that made two of us. It was what I wanted, definitely. I held you to something you said while you were scared and confused. I should have taken more time, let you relax more before setting our limits. I let you down. I let both of us down, I daresay. But I disappointed you, and I hurt you. I do regret that, and I intend to put it right.”
This is unexpected, and sounds remarkably similar to an apology. I just gape at him, astonished, as the meaning of his words starts to sink in.
Put it right? Any remaining uncertainty regarding his meaning or his immediate plans for me evaporates as he turns his head to look appraisingly at my body. I start squirming again, though I couldn’t honestly say why. Underwear doesn’t do much for my modesty, but he’s seen me in less. His admiring gaze brands me as he presses his point.
“Would you like that, Summer? Would you like me to fuck you? Here? Now? Should I start making up for lost time?”
“Now?” My voice comes out on a whisper. “But what about Nathan? The children?” Where did that come from? Why am I not declining his generous offer and heading for the nearest bathroom?
Dan grins, holding my gaze. “Nathan can make his own arrangements. Would you feel happier if I lock the door?”
“The door? Does it lock?”
“Yes. Shall I?” His tone is low, sexy and very, very gentle.
His liquid brown eyes are hot, like dark chocolate, sweet and strong and so sensual I’m finding it hard to breathe now, let alone form sensible answers. He sees, he knows, and he stands. Seconds later, the click of the lock confirms his intent then he’s back. He stands beside the bed for a few seconds, watching me watching him. Then he unbuttons his shirt. He removes it quickly, dropping it to the carpet.
He shifts his weight and I guess that must be him toeing off his shoes. He says nothing as he unfastens his jeans and drops the zip then pushes them down to step out of them. I’ve been politely keeping my eyes fixed on his face but can’t help dropping my gaze as he pulls down his boxer shorts to release his cock. His erection is as I remember it, huge, thick and very, very solid, jutting proudly at me. After the first time I never paid that much attention to James’ cock, I was never that interested really. And I paid none at all to the dimensions of any of my ‘clients’ back in Barrow, but I’m reasonably convinced that no one in my previous limited experience compared even remotely favorably to Daniel Riche.
My mouth feels dry, my stomach lurches in nervous anticipation. Had I been on my feet I daresay my knees would be buckling by now. What have I done? I wanted this. Back in Lancaster I definitely wanted this. I should be more careful what I wish for.
Dan stretches out alongside me on the bed, saying nothing as he cups my cheek to turn my face toward his. He brushes his mouth over mine, his lips soft and warm as he trails them across my cheek to nuzzle my ear. Despite his very obvious arousal, he’s not demanding, not insistent or forcing the issue, or any of the things I think I remember about him. He’s slow, unhurried, setting a soft, easy pace as he waits for me to catch up.
And I do. Suddenly it’s as though a switch has flicked in my brain, my sex drive activated. And turned on full. I reach for him, his shoulders first then I sink my fingers into his thick hair. And I’m kissing him back, furiously, impatiently. I’m the one demanding. I’m the one in a hurry. He responds quickly, matching his pace to mine as we roll on the bed, clutching, grabbing, caressing. He slides his palms around my shoulder blades and loosens the clasp of my bra. He pulls the lacy fabric away, my breasts now naked to his gaze, his touch. He palms the softness, pinching my nipples as I arch under him. Another roll and now I’m on top. He lowers his hands to my waist, but only to haul me up his body so he can take the throbbing peak between his lips. I fold my arms around his head, allowing my weight to sink onto him, loving this sensual onslaught. He sucks, nibbles, at the same time reaching to push my knickers down. I decide to help, wriggling and kicking to work them down my legs and shove them away.
“What do I need to do?” I ask the question nervously, not wanting to break the mood, loathe to interrupt the seductive spell he’s weaving. But I need to know. I want to play this game too. For once, I want to be a participant rather than simply enduring. Or acting out a role.
He releases my nipple to answer me, “Nothing. Anything. Just enjoy this.”
“I am. I will. But…”
“If I hurt you, or scare you, or if there’s anything at all you’re not happy with, you can say so. You know that, don’t you?”
“I…yes. I want…”
I’m stammering again as he recaptures my nipple, opening his mouth wide around my breast. And I lose the power of coherent thought entirely as he reaches down to caress the globes of my bottom with both his hands, parting my buttocks. I’m straddling him—my pussy is open, wet, hot, and I’m desperate for him to touch me.
“Please, please, Sir.”
His low chuckle signals his approval at my choice of words, but I’m past caring as he draws his fingertips slowly across my cunt, from back to front, finally reaching my clit. From there, he makes short work of me. He rubs my clit, softly at first then applies more pressure. I whimper, let out a sound somewhere between a squeal and a gasp, as he slips his thumb between the lips of my pussy. He probes deeper, curling the digit to hit my G-spot dead on. He’s not even thrusting, just rubbing, caressing me, but I’m convulsing helplessly around his hand as my orgasm engulfs me. I’m rigid, clinging to him as my body shakes and shudders, as the waves of my climax pulse along my veins. It seems to continue
forever, though in reality it must only be seconds before I’m drifting back into my body, regaining some hold on reality however tenuous.
He withdraws his fingers, but only enough to be able to cup my bottom. He massages the soft flesh of my bum, and I’m reminded of the spanking he intends to administer. Not that I care at this precise moment.
“Mmm, well that was rewarding. Roll over, love. My turn to be on top.” Spanking me is clearly not high on his agenda just now either.
Suitably obedient even so, I slide to my right. I roll onto my back then contentedly spread my thighs. He settles between them.
“My, my, your manners have improved.” He leans in to kiss me, a short, sweet caress. “Remember, if I hurt you, I want you to tell me. You’re small. This will be tight. But good, I promise.”
I close my eyes, my chin tilted in silent welcome. I’m expecting to feel his cock plunging into me, but that doesn’t happen. Not yet. The rustle of foil reminds me of our mutual responsibilities and I’m relieved that at least one of us has retained some sense. Seconds later, the condom safely installed, he reaches down to place the head of his cock between the lips of my pussy. I try to press against him, my hands now clasping his buttocks, urging him forwards. He’s not to be hurried, easing into me, achingly tender as my body stretches and re-shapes to accept him.
It is a tight fit. Very tight. I chew my lower lip, nervous as I reach what I’m sure must be my limit. He stops immediately. “Summer? How are you doing?”
Just the question is enough. I’m reassured, I feel totally safe. “I’m fine. It’s tight, that’s all.”
“It is, deliciously tight. God, you’re hot.”
“I think you might be too. Sir.”
“Smoking, darling.” And with that he presses home, sinking his full length into me. He stops, rocks slightly to ease the fit.
I squeeze around him, loving the sense of fullness. I grip his shoulders hard, my cheek pressed against the solid, angular planes of his chest. He nuzzles the top of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair.
“Okay so far?”
“Yes.” And, as an afterthought, “Thank you.”
“Thank me later. For now, could you hook your ankles together behind my back?”
I say nothing, just lift my legs to do as he’s said. His cock edges even farther into me, and I can’t contain a small squeak. It’s not pain but not yet pleasure. It’s more—surprise. Just when I think he can’t get any deeper, he finds the extra inch.
“We’ll go slow at first. I’m going to be very, very gentle with you.” He’s in no hurry to thrust, content it would seem to simply hold me and wait
“I’m not a virgin.” I sound almost indignant, though in reality I do appreciate his care.
“I know that. But you might as well be. You asked me for instructions just now, so I’m guessing you haven’t made a habit of this before.”
“I’m sorry.” And will I be making a habit of it in future. I definitely could.
“Don’t be. I’m not. You’re mine, a blank canvas.”
I’m not sure what he means by that, but any thought of asking for further clarification evaporates as he at last starts to move. Slow and even, he withdraws his cock, right to the tip, before driving it deep inside me once more. He’s taking infinite care, as he promised he would, treating me like a rare and delicate work of art. I feel cherished, utterly precious, but not nearly as fragile as perhaps he thinks.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No, Sir. It feels wonderful.” I open my eyes to find myself gazing into the velvety brown of his and on impulse, I reach up to brush my lips across his jaw.
He requires no further encouragement or confirmation that I’m okay and fully with him, and now he does start up a rhythm in earnest. Not fast, not in the least rough. But insistent, regular, engaging my senses as the friction builds. I arch, my pussy clenching now as the familiar sensations begin to take over. He slips a hand between us to again mold and shape my breast, circling my nipple with his fingertip before squeezing it sharply. It’s painful, almost, the sensation sitting in that place where pleasure and pain co-exist and are inter-changeable. I writhe, gasping as currents of electric energy shoot through me, connecting my nipples, my clit, my pussy. I moan, a soft sound of contentment, and this time he doesn’t check. He knows how I am. Every squeeze and shiver and tremble tells him, and he’s perfectly attuned to my responses. It’s uncanny, as though he’s reading my thoughts, but I don’t stop to question or analyze. At this moment, there’s only feeling, and I’m doing that in spades.
He increases the tempo, not by much, but enough. My body is humming, tingling, the pull and twist of orgasm starting, building, growing and blooming. He adjusts his angle slightly, and my G-spot is again in the mix, every stroke caressing that glorious place inside my pussy where all my nerve endings seem to meet.
“Open your eyes for me, Summer. Look at me while you come. I want to see it in your eyes.”
“What? What did you say?”
His nose nudges mine, gentle, insistent, his tone low but expecting to be obeyed. “Open your eyes, Summer. I want to see you come.”
I force my eyelids upwards, and I keep them open with effort. He smiles at me, his expression encouraging, approving. He’s pleased with me, and that matters. So much.
“Sir, I…?” My body arches involuntarily as another wave of fresh, delightful sensation ripples through my pussy. My legs tense around him and I’m using my heels now in a desperate attempt to urge the pace, demanding more, faster, harder. I’m stretching, reaching for my release. His cock is like a piston now, driving deep and true, each stroke whipping up the frenzy of my mounting, gathering climax. Suddenly, it’s there, and I’m flying. Soaring free. I cry out, digging my fingers into the flexing muscles of his shoulders, my head thrown back in delight. My whole body is in spasm, a kaleidoscope of riotous color exploding in my head. And my eyes never leave his. I see his pupils dilate in—what? In satisfaction perhaps, at my response. In pleasure as his own climax approaches? I know enough about submission now to appreciate that the Dom in him wants my orgasm, craves it, owns it. And I give it willingly, surrender it to him, whispering my submission as I mutter, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Moments after my orgasm, his cock jerks sharply and he plunges forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as the hot rush of his semen fills the condom. Then, he’s still. So am I. I’m panting, my heart thumping in my chest. He’s been the one doing the work, yet I feel I’ve just completed a marathon. Neither of us moves—neither of us speaks. The earth steadies on its axis again.
“You’re welcome, Miss Jones. Any time.” Dan is first to speak.
He withdraws from my body and removes the condom, knotting the end then dropping it onto the carpet before wrapping his arms around me. I go willingly, snuggling against his chest. I’m admiring the smooth planes and angles there, so different from my own shape despite my lack of lush curves. None of that seems to matter at this moment, though.
He kisses my hair, smoothing large circles across my back and bottom with his palm. “Oh, yes, Miss Jones. I should have certainly fucked you back then, at the club. Apart from the obvious attractions, it might have saved your sweet bum some discomfort. Still, that unpleasantness will soon be done with. And you’ll benefit from the learning experience.”
Even ten minutes ago, I might have tried to convince him that we should skip the discipline, that I was already truly sorry. Not now, though. In that moment when I stared into his eyes as I came, the naked trust, honesty, intimacy of that moment, I became his. Ready to accept, to welcome, to learn and grow.
“Yes, Sir. I will.” I glance up into his face, my buttocks clenching. “Are you, I mean, will it be now? Here?”
He grins wickedly. “Here? With the house full to overflowing? I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I already know you’re something of a screamer, and that definitely would upset Rosie. I’d have to gag you, which would spoi
l the fun a little as I do like to hear my subs reactions to my work. And I’m a nice man. I wouldn’t want you squirming about all the way through the ceremony. This is a wedding. It’s serious stuff. We need to be dignified. So, no, I have something better in mind for you. Later, after the wedding.”
I clap my hand over my mouth. “Oh, Christ, the wedding. I need my bag. My stuff. I need to get ready.”
“And so you shall, little sub. You can have the first shower—”
He’s interrupted by a soft knock on the door.
“Who is it?” Dan calls out, making no attempt to leave the bed.
He knows, as I do, that the room is locked. There’s no response, though, to his question, and a few seconds later the knock is repeated. Suddenly it dawns on me.
“That must be Freya. Anyone else would yell out to say who was there.”
Dan nods sharply. I suspect he just arrived at the same conclusion himself. He swings his legs out of bed and stands up. Naked, he’s one seriously fine sight and I have a brief opportunity to admire his taut buttocks as he bends to retrieve his jeans and steps into them. He zips up but leaves the waistband unfastened as he reaches the door and flicks the lock back. He opens the door a crack, then widens and stands back to invite Freya in. She enters, modestly covered now in her ankle length wrap and to my relief, seems less than surprised to find me naked and obviously just very thoroughly fucked in Dan’s bed. She has kindly brought my bag with her.
“Nick’s in the shower, but he’ll be finished soon. Then you can come back and use our room if you need to. But perhaps you…” She breaks off, glancing around uncertainly, from me to Dan and back. It’s obvious what’s been going on, but Freya chooses not to mention it. I’m not sure if that’s for Dan’s benefit, though he doesn’t understand BSL. Well, not as far as I know. He’s leaning back against the now closed door, watching the pair of us. It seems rude to chat in sign with a non-signer present so I decide to respond verbally.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’d prefer not to risk running into Nick again.” I hesitate, adding Nick to my list of people I need to apologize to. How could I have been so rude? My only excuse is that I was half asleep and perhaps not entirely sober, although I don’t feel even the slightest lingering effects of last night’s wine now. “I was about to use Dan’s shower. If that’s still okay, obviously…?” I glance at him for confirmation.