Darkest (The Dark Side)

by Barker, Ashe

  He lifts my chin up, kisses me thrusting his tongue deep into my mouth to tease and taste. I writhe on his lap, causing more of those wonderful ripples. Oh God, oh God…! He lifts his head, his gorgeous chocolate eyes gazing into mine, and with a knowing smile reaches his hand between my legs.

  No instruction to be silent could have contained me then. I scream, actually scream out loud as my body goes into convulsions under his light caress. His fingertips barely brush my clit but it’s enough to start the firecrackers inside my head, and I am coming. It’s powerful, and explosive and each clench of my pussy sends the glorious ripples deep within my anus back into overdrive, the sensations building and multiplying. I am sobbing with the sheer ecstatic passion of it, mindless now, my hips thrusting against Nathan’s hand as he keeps up the steady pressure on my clit.

  His seductive murmurs into my hair urge me on, reassuring and relentless. “Come for me, baby. Don’t stop, come for me again. Again. God, you’re so bloody gorgeous, my beautiful, beautiful Eva. Come for me again, baby…”

  I lie there, helpless in his arms as climax after climax rolls through me. By the time the tidal wave of sensation passes, leaving me battered and spent, I have no idea how many times I’ve come, but eventually the faint sound of metallic tapping penetrates my consciousness. Nathan hears it too and stands, effortlessly holding me in his arms. He leans me against the lift doors as he punches in a code on the keypad. The lift judders into action and restarts its steady glide upwards.

  The doors open at the penthouse level, and Nathan steps out, still with me cradled, naked, in his arms. With a deft flick of his foot my clothes and shoes are kicked out of the lift onto the floor of his entrance foyer. He hits a couple of buttons and the doors close. I am dimly aware of the soft whirring as it descends back towards the tender ministrations of the lift engineers God knows how many floors below us.

  Leaving my clothes where they are Nathan uses his key card to let us into the apartment, still carrying me. He doesn’t put me down until he reaches the sofa in his spacious lounge, then he carefully deposits me there. The wonderful sensations have more or less finished, but I am acutely aware of the…whatever…still nestled deep inside me. Every movement causes more ripples, just my own weight lying on the couch causes pressure, and I’m intensely aware of the sensual rolling in my rear channel. I feel full, caressed lovingly from the inside out.

  Nathan kneels beside me, his elbows on the seat of the couch as he looks at me. I smile, tentative but gloriously content. He smiles back, playful now as he rubs his nose against mine. My delightful, fun-filled lover is back.

  “I’m guessing you liked that, sweetheart.”

  I simply nod, and reach out to stroke his handsome, chiselled face. He catches my hand in his, turning his face to kiss my palm. I melt, falling back against the couch.

  “If you want a nap, feel free. Later you can have a bath. And then we’ll redo your little wax job, I think.” He lightly runs the backs of his fingers over my belly and down between my still parted thighs. I sigh, then shudder as the full import of his words sinks in.

  “Another Brazilian wax? Do I have to?”

  “Mmm, do I need to remind you of the importance of proper grooming, Miss Byrne? And I think you’ll enjoy it more this time. These’ll help…” He reaches between my legs to gently tug at whatever is still inside me, sending delightful little shockwaves through my arse and pussy. I gasp and arch my body upwards. Christ, that feels so good…

  “What is that?” I manage to gasp out, as the sensations subside.

  “Anal beads, sweetheart. Do you like them?”

  “Yes…” I arch again as he helpfully gives the beads another gentle tug, sending the rolling, undulating sensations pulsing through my body again. Instinctively I spread my legs, and he grins wickedly. “Not yet, baby. If you’re feeling lively we’ll run you a bath.” I groan, frustrated, as he stands with that easy, fluid grace I’ve seen so often, and a few seconds later I hear the splashing of water. Seems I’m to endure another Brazilian, whether I like it or not.

  I expected to be deposited on the table again, but this time it seems I am to receive my ‘treatment’ in the comfort of Nathan’s bed. He helped me to stand, still with those wonderful, wickedly sensual beads inside me, and I walked—or rather hobbled—across the floor to the bathroom for a long hot soak. Each step brought with it fresh ripples of sensation as the beads rolled and turned inside me. The feeling was…indescribable. Good, blissfully, wondrously good, but absolutely debilitating as each movement threatened to reduce me to melting orgasm. And Nathan intends me to keep these things inside me until further notice. Christ Almighty!

  Still, at least they’ll take my mind off what’s about to happen. I watch balefully as Nathan collects his wax and cloth strips, hoping my painkillers won’t be slow to kick in as he seems to want to get on with this. Ready, he sits beside me as I hug the huge fluffy bath sheet around my body. My glare is mutinous but I’m concentrating on keeping as still as possible to avoid any embarrassing moans of passion that might undermine my protests.

  “Do I have to…?” Worth one last try, surely. The raising of one stern eyebrow is all the answer I need. I loosen my grip on my comfort blanket and allow Nathan to spread the towel wide on the bed, exposing my body again. I close my eyes and open my legs.

  “Good girl.” His movements are quick and efficient as he spreads the hot wax on the short wisps of light red hair just starting to re-emerge on my lower abdomen. He applies the cloth strips, but instead of letting me just lie there cringing as he waits for the wax to harden he keeps me entertained by lightly flicking the beads protruding from my body. The pleasure is exquisite, my misery entirely dispelled. I lie still, my legs spread wide, savouring his sexy play. I manage only a slight wince when he rips the hairs out.

  Efficiently smoothing the wax over the lips protecting my clitoris and vagina he repeats the process, sharply removing the regrown hair as I bubble happily towards orgasm. I quickly learn that I don’t need to wait for him to move the beads—any movement of mine will set the sensations off again. I am in absolute agony. And ecstasy. And the slut that I’ve become, ecstasy wins hands down.

  All too soon he asks me to turn over, to kneel on the bed with my bum once more in the air. The wax is applied to the delicate skin around my anus, then taking advantage of my convenient position he gives the string of beads a sharp twist to send intense waves of pleasure shooting in every direction. I let out a yelp that has nothing at all to do with the tearing out of the remaining short hairs.

  The process complete, Nathan quickly smears baby oil over my tender flesh, cleaning off any remaining wax. It feels wonderful, and I’m praying he’ll touch my clit. If he doesn’t, I’ll have to. Never one to shirk his duty Nathan shoves the waxing paraphernalia to one side and quickly tosses me onto my back again, and buries his head between my legs. He takes my clit in his mouth, sucking hard as I come helplessly, gratefully, and very, very obediently. Only then does he unzip his jeans to release his thick, hard cock and, pulling me under him, slip tenderly into me.

  The beads are still there, doing their work, intensifying the sensations. I am beyond any form of resistance or active participation by now and simply lie there under him, absorbing the glorious sweetness of him as he fills me completely. He’s huge, angling just right to hit my G-spot every time. God he is so very, very good at this. Hooking his elbows under my knees he lifts me up to penetrate me more deeply. His thrusts are hard and sharp, plunging deep inside me. He is fucking me so deeply that I feel the thump of his penis jutting against my cervix, but he is merciless. I’ve had mine—this is for him.

  And he takes. All he wants. With a muttered obscenity he comes. And, greedy little sub that I am, I come again as I feel the familiar warm wetness of semen dribbling from me. He forces my legs higher, wider, for his total possession. He holds me still for a few moments as he swivels his hips, grinding every last pulse of sperm out of his body and into mine an
d I instinctively clench around him in welcoming acceptance.

  At last he drops my legs, still holding his own weight on his arms and his cock still planted to the hilt. He looks down at me, briefly dropping a kiss on my forehead before rolling to one side. He takes me with him so I end up in my most familiar post-coital position, draped on top of his hard body. He makes no move to withdraw his cock, and I see no reason to either. So we lie there, both totally spent. And it is there that we sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  We are so normal. So bloody ordinary as we perch on tall stools at Nathan’s breakfast bar, enjoying a snatched breakfast of croissants and coffee before we both leave for our respective day’s business. Nathan is immaculate as ever for his office environment, his charcoal grey suit neatly pressed and his lavender and grey striped shirt a perfect match for his pearl grey tie. His shoes are polished to a brilliant sheen, as ever. His hair, still damp from the shower, is swept back into his customary businesslike ponytail. His jacket is slung over the arm of the sofa, scene of last night’s initial seduction, and his briefcase is waiting by the door.

  I’m no scruff myself, as it goes. Not quite up to Nathan’s standard of sartorial excellence, I am still more than presentable in an olive green, mid-calf-length skirt and peach cowl-neck top. My black, heeled pumps, retrieved from the foyer by Nathan when he first got up this morning, are dangling from my toes as I stretch and flex my feet. I feel relaxed, contented and I smile privately to myself, contrasting last night’s heady debauchery with this morning’s restrained efficiency. Shy suddenly, I peep up at Nathan. He winks.

  God, I love this man.

  “I’ve got a meeting at eight so I’m getting off in a minute. I’ve got meetings scheduled all day, sweetheart, so no time to meet for lunch. More’s the pity. I’ll see you back here around half five, though.”

  I shrug. “No problem. I’ll be at the uni all morning anyway and I’ll probably hit the shops again this afternoon. Might even give Damien a ring to see if I can get him to squeeze me in for a quick trim.” My hair is showing signs of recurring unruliness. Can’t be having that. Especially with my nether regions so beautifully smooth and tidy again.

  “Sounds like a plan.” He downs the last of his coffee and gets up to dump his cup by the sink. Grabbing his jacket and shrugging into it he comes back over to me. Taking my face between his palms he kisses me, soft and lingering. “Till half five then. Have fun, gorgeous.” And he’s gone.

  I take my time over finishing my breakfast, then help myself to more coffee, which I take onto the outside decking to drink. The early autumn sunshine is still warm and I lean on the rail, watching early morning commuters making their brisk way across Clarence Dock. It’s only seven thirty so not that many people are around yet. I sip my coffee and enjoy the view. I even stop off for a chat with the life-size sheep. They seem incongruous here, would be much more at home at Black Combe. I once pointed that out to Nathan who simply said that there were more than enough sheep on the moors but a distinct shortage here in Leeds. So here they stay.

  I’m not due at the university until ten so I’m in no rush to leave. I potter around washing up our breakfast things then grab another coffee as I flick through today’s Guardian looking for the crossword. Nathan has a standing arrangement with the door staff that when he’s in residence they deliver a copy to the apartment. He was going to shove it in his briefcase for later but I scrounged it from him. I dawdle over the weird workings of Araucaria’s twisted logic for half an hour or so before heading for the bathroom to finish my daily ablutions.

  I phone Damien as soon as the shop opens at nine. Needless to say, he’s fully booked but I plead until he agrees to shoe-horn me in at four thirty for a trim. I make a mental note to text Nathan to let him know that it will probably be six or six thirty before I’m back. By quarter past nine I’m ready to go, so, grabbing my oversized bag containing my notebook, Nathan’s iPad, which he’s agreed to let me borrow until I’ve time to get my own, and my other bits and pieces, I find myself out in the foyer heading for the lift doors. I reach into the pocket of my skirt for my phone, intending to text Nathan, just to let him know I love him and that I’ll see him by half past six. It’s not there, and I remember getting it out when I was grappling with the crossword to Google Russian tryptyches. Don’t ask.

  Using the key card that Nathan shoved at me across the breakfast bar this morning I let myself back in and rush across to the dining table. My phone is there, hidden under the neatly folded newspaper. I grab it and head for the door again.

  I needn’t have bothered thinking of texting—I can hear footsteps padding across the foyer. Nathan must have managed to squeeze a few minutes out to nip back upstairs and wish me luck on my first day in my new department. Smiling in anticipation I run to the door as it opens.

  To find myself facing a perfect stranger.

  And perfect sums her up quite nicely. Tall, slim, curvaceous, platinum blonde. Her grey silk sheath dress clinging to her luscious body. This paragon of female beauty is at least ten inches taller than me, even in my black heels, and immaculately made up even though it’s still only just after nine.

  And she’s in my home.

  “Who the hell are you?” The words are out, hostile, confrontational. Every instinct tells me this woman is not good news. She advances into the apartment, her perfect deportment more of a glide than a walk, and looks down her exquisitely straight nose at me. She smiles, displaying a faultless set of brilliant white teeth. No doubt cost a fortune, I think to myself uncharitably. I hate her. I’ve no idea why, but I very definitely do.

  I stand my ground, determined not to let her intimidate me. Oddly, I don’t feel so much as a flicker of fear, but my loathing is coming off me in waves. If anything, she seems amused by me, a sneering smile plastered across her delicately glossed crimson lips.

  “I’m Susanna. Is Nathan about?” She cranes her neck, and although something tells me she knows quite well he’s not here she’s making a show of looking around the apartment for him. As if she has every right to.

  I don’t answer her question, and go straight on the offensive. “I didn’t invite you in here, so get out. Now.”

  She shrugs, ignoring my suggestion that she bugger off. She strolls elegantly past me, heading straight for the bedroom. Nathan’s bedroom! Christ, it’s clear that she knows her way round.

  “I’ve got my own key, thanks. Nathan likes me to just drop in when I’m in the area.” She opens the bedroom door, leans in to check. Does she think I’ve hidden him in there? Got him chained to the bed, maybe?

  She turns to me. “Oh well, tell him I called. And that I brought this back.” She reaches into her beautiful, beige, soft leather, clutch bag and pulls out a silk tie, very pale grey marbled with light purple. Very Nathan.

  “A little souvenir from when I was last here. I know it’s one of his favourites, though, so I thought he’d like it back before too long. I’ll just collect my earrings while I’m here.” Shoving the tie into my hands she turns and strides into the bedroom, straight over to the bedside table on the side I usually sleep on. She opens the top drawer and reaches in. Clasping something in her closed fist she saunters back towards me, stopping by the brown leather settee to delicately slide her hand along its back. She looks straight at me, suddenly pursing her deeply coloured red lips and giving a little mock hiss of pain as though in mutual commiseration. Her point made, she brushes past me as she heads back into the lounge. I stand in the doorway, furious, helpless, watching her every move. Perching herself casually on the arm of one of Nathan’s sofas she opens her palm to show me the delicate gold and pearl earrings clutched in her hand.

  “They were my mother’s. Huge sentimental value,” she simpers, her smile dazzling. “Nathan always likes me to take them off because they’re uncomfortable when he blindfolds me. I can’t bear to be parted from them for more than a couple of weeks so I thought I’d pop over and pick them up. Anyway, got to be going. Tell Nathan I
sent my love, and I’ll see him soon. Ciao.”

  Her damage done, she turns on her heels and marches out, waggling her fingers over one shoulder at me as she walks nonchalantly away.

  For a few moments I stand, transfixed in stupefied silence, looking into the space where the undeniably lovely Susanna had been as though there was a real danger that the hateful apparition might somehow reappear. Her careless words rattle around my head like ricocheting bullets, shattering my world. Ruthlessly. Totally.

  ‘I’ve got my own key.’ ‘When I was last here.’ ‘When he blindfolds me.’ ‘A couple of weeks.’ As the awful implications sink in I feel sick, and dive for the bathroom. I manage to reach the loo before I throw up and proceed to heave my croissants and three cups of coffee down the pan.

  At last my stomach stops heaving and churning, and I feel it may be safe to pull my head out of the toilet. I sit on the floor of the bathroom, tears streaming down my cheeks. I didn’t even know I was crying, but suddenly I’m sobbing uncontrollably. I don’t bother to hide my face in my hands. I don’t reach for a tissue, or even a chunk of toilet paper. I just let the grief flow.

  The bastard. The absolute lying, cheating, utter bastard. The one thing, the only thing I bloody asked of him. He promised me. I asked him if there were any others, any other subs, and he promised me I was the only one. And I believed him. Like the naïve little fool I am, I actually believed him.

  But he lied. He didn’t mention Susanna. And how many other ‘Susannas’ are there? How many other luscious, sexy subs popping in with their own keys, leaving their earrings in his drawers and borrowing ties? How many others who know their way around this apartment as well as I do, better probably? How many others who know exactly what the brown leather bedroom sofa is for?

  I feel sick again, but there’s nothing left to throw up so I stay where I am, rocking myself in my misery, drowning in my pain and humiliation and cursing my own gullibility. He wanted to fuck me. He said so enough times. He’d have said anything, told me anything, to get me to open my legs for him. And I totally fell for it. If he’d been honest about his other women, his need for variety, I’d have accepted that. Possibly. Or at least I’d have had a choice. I gave him my virginity never expecting a long-term commitment from him. But he told me I was special. He told me he loved me. And all the time he was fucking Susanna as well.