by Ashe Barker
She’d always kept herself in shape, she knew that, could manage to carry off a bikini at a push. But this was just ridiculous. Racked with embarrassment, she managed a full five seconds before she stretched out her hand, groping for her robe.
“No. Leave that. I want to look at you.” His tone was commanding.
Rachel’s hand stopped in mid-air. She dropped the robe onto the floor at her feet, sat still again.
“Look at me. And breathe, Rachel.”
She realized she’d been staring at the robe and holding her breath. With a conscious effort she raised her eyes then exhaled slowly. Breathed in again, exhaled once more. He smiled, a slight, knowing smile and pushed himself off the door to stroll toward her. His jeans were unbuttoned, and he’d lost his shirt somewhere before coming into her bedroom. His erection was threatening to burst his zip, large, thick, solid. For her. Maybe this wasn’t such an outlandish notion after all…
He stopped directly in front of her, allowing her plenty of opportunity to study the promising-looking bulge in the front of his jeans. Her fingers itched to reach out, test its firmness. Soon, maybe. Probably. He caught her chin with his fingertips and tilted her face up.
“Loving the outfit. I think we’ll keep this on. For a while longer. I’d prefer this loose though.” He slid his hand behind her head to tug the spring-loaded claw out of her hair, letting the waves tumble around her shoulders. “Mmm, much better.”
Dropping his hands from her, he strolled around the bed, then stretched out on it, behind her. She swung around to face him, her legs tucked under her body. And she noted that to say this was her home, her bedroom, he was the one who seemed the very epitome of relaxation. While she was strung as tight as a spring.
“Some ground rules, I think.” He said the words casually, seemed almost business-like.
“Ground rules? What sort of ground rules?” She could hear the tremor in her voice, hoped he couldn’t. Fat chance.
“No need to sound so worried. This is for your protection.”
“Protection? Why? Why would I need protecting?”
“Why indeed? Let me explain. You’ll remember, I think, what I said last night? About spanking you? And I asked you about sex toys. I see you did as I asked by the way, and left them nice and handy. That’s good. I like a sub who does as she’s told.” He paused, watching her.
Rachel knew her expression could be nothing other than total bafflement. She didn’t answer, could think of anything to say.
Callum continued, “Sub. Submissive. To my Dom. Dominant. Do you know what these words mean, Rachel?”
Another careful, long breath in then she exhaled slowly before speaking. “Yes, I know. I’ve read about…that sort of thing.”
He smiled. “Well, who hasn’t I suppose. After that book came out. Still, it’s a start. So you know how this stuff works, sort of?”
“I’m not calling you Sir! I’m old enough to be your mother.”
He shrugged. “Oh, is that right? And how old are you, Rachel?”
She glared at him mutinously. Had he no social graces? He lifted one sardonic eyebrow, which she interpreted as him waiting for an answer. Swallowing her outrage, discretion won out and she provided one. “Forty-four.”
He just nodded. “I see. I’m twenty-two. And for what it’s worth, my mother’s thirty-six. My step-dad’s twenty-five. I’ve a brother not that much older than Jacob. And a sister who’s just six weeks old. Crazy, yeah?”
“Thirty-six!” Rachel couldn’t keep the astonishment from her voice. And she was not an accountant for nothing, she did the maths. But that means…”
“Yup. She was only fourteen when she had me. Still, worked out okay. We lived with my grandma and granddad and they helped her out. My mum’d like you. She admires professional women. What is it you do in that office of yours?”
“I’m an accountant. Tax, that sort of thing.”
“Ah, very impressive. Do you do gardeners?”
She couldn’t help the teasing note, some opportunities just scream not to be missed. “Well, I haven’t. But it seems I’m about to…”
There was a brief pause, then laughter. He reached up and grabbed her, hauling her down beside him. Leaning over her he dropped his mouth onto hers, angling to deepen the kiss. Rachel stiffened—startled at first—then softened as he deepened his exploration, stroking his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opened her mouth. He tasted, explored, tangled his tongued with hers, then withdrew to suck her tongue into his mouth. Rolling onto his back he pulled her with him, and now she found herself on top, kissing him, plunging her tongue into his mouth, greedy, demanding.
Long minutes later he rolled back on top of her, lifting his head to gaze down at her. “You distracted me. And we still need to talk.”
Rachel frowned up at him, puzzled at the abrupt change of pace. He continued to talk to her, trailing his fingers lightly through her tangled hair as he spoke.
“We need to sort out safe words. And hard limits, as per your erotic reading matter. You need to know what I intend to do, and I need to know if there’s anything you really, really don’t want to try. I need to know what scares you, so that I can help you get past being afraid. Okay so far?”
Rachel nodded, tentative. Her previous sexual encounters bore no resemblance to this. In the past, when she’d actually got as far as bouncing around in bed with anyone, it had been along the lines of a quick, if passionate, fumble. Adventurous, in that she’d been in uncharted territory a lot of the time, but certainly never this level of careful planning. She had a suspicion there would be passion with Callum, and definitely adventure. Callum’s approach had a new quality to it, one she found unfamiliar and a little intimidating. He was purposeful—everything seemed to be done by intent, in line with his careful instructions. She found herself obeying, as much as responding. It was disconcerting, at odds with her normal independent spirit. She was a professional woman, successful, a businesswoman, a parent. So why was she allowing herself to be bossed around by a man half her age, in her own home, in her own bed, for God’s sake?
Because it was oddly comfortable. Solid and safe. Her nerves of a few minutes earlier melted into the duvet as she relaxed under his gentle, capable fingers. She knew she was going to defer to him, in this, and maybe a lot more besides? And she would do it gladly.
“First—safe words.” His tone was calm, competent, as he continued. “Your safe word needs to be something you wouldn’t normally say, that you can use to stop me dead if you need to. If what I’m doing to you is too much, if I push you too hard, scare you, hurt you more than you can bear. Do you have a word you’d like to use for that?”
She shook her head. “Hurt me? Why would you hurt me? And, why can’t I just say ‘no’, or ‘stop’?”
“Because it’s too easy to confuse those words with the sort of things you might say anyway when you’re very aroused. We don’t want to make any mistakes over this. So, how about ‘carrot and coriander’?”
Still locked on to the notion of ‘hurt’ and working that through in her head Rachel continued to stare at him, her face mirroring her confusion.
He dropped his hand to her shoulder gave her a gentle shake. “So, carrot and coriander?”
She considered for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. Carrot and coriander.”
He continued, all business and matter-of-fact now, dealing with the basics for her. With her. “Right. That’s your ‘stop’ signal. Your red light, so to speak. And what about if you just want me to slow down, or you need to talk about something. Do you have a word we could use for ‘amber’? A moment’s thought, then, “Rockery.” Rachel managed to keep her voice remarkably steady. Despite the outrageous things he was saying, suggesting, he hadn’t managed to scare her off . At least, not yet.
“Rockery works. Fine then. Now, do you want to specify any hard limits now or shall we agree those as we go along?”
“I don’t know. What’s best?”
“
Unless there’s anything else you want to get straight now, anything bothering you, I’d suggest we play it by ear. We’ll go slow, I’ll keep checking with you that you’re okay.”
“You’ll check with me? What about me checking you?”
He chuckled, leaning down to nudge her nose with his playfully. “Ah, but I’m going to be the top, Rachel. And you’ll be the bottom. That’s how it is, so I’ll be calling the shots, dishing it out. You’ll be on the receiving end. And I’ll do the checking.”
“Receiving end? Receiving what, exactly?”
“Ah, that’s the accountant talking. Right, I mentioned spanking last night and you managed not to faint. Add to that caning, whips, maybe a leather strap. I have a nice one of those, would suit you perfectly. I’ll tie you up, blindfold you, gag you sometimes. Any of that likely to be a problem?”
Rachel struggled out of his arms and sat bolt upright on the bed, her knees tucked protectively under her chin. She glared at him.
“Bloody hell. There’s a lot of difference between a playful slap on the bum, and being tied up, gagged and whipped.”
Seemingly unfazed by her reaction, Callum made himself comfortable, his arms behind his head as he regarded her. She was struck by his air of patience, as though he anticipated her reaction and was simply waiting for her to calm down again. He must be satisfied she was listening and not just rejecting his words out of hand, as he continued.
“There certainly is. But it’s a difference of degree. We’ll work up to the whips I think. And I promise you, the most wonderful things can happen to your body when you’re tied up, naked. And blindfolded. Your legs spread wide. And you’ll feel every stroke, intimately. No distractions you see. Shall we start with that?”
Rachel knew she was staring. Couldn’t help it. No one, no one had ever spoken to her like this before. Made their intentions so explicit. And no one had ever, ever excited and aroused her like this gorgeous young man did. Moisture welled between her legs as he described what he might like to do to her—and soon, here, in her own bed.
Her stomach clenched and her pussy quivered in anticipation. She was scared, definitely, but in a nice way. The sort of scared she remembered she once felt at the top of a rollercoaster at Alton Towers just before she was catapulted into spinning, swirling oblivion. Maybe he was offering her a similar ride. Christ, she hoped so.
She knew she was in, committed. She was going for this, for him.
“Shall we, Rachel? I’m going to tie you up. And blindfold you. Then you’re going to spread your legs for me, and I’ll do the rest. Do you trust me?”
Rachel’s gaze locked on his, and she nodded, no hesitation now. She did trust him. She’d trusted him yesterday with her little boy, and she trusted him today with her body. He smiled, just the slightest quirk of his lips, before he leaned in to drop a light kiss on her mouth. Then he rolled off the bed and strolled over to the chest of drawers under the window.
“Where do you keep your tights, Rachel?”
“Second drawer down, on the left.”
He didn’t reply, just bent to poke around in the drawer she’d indicated. He turned back to face her, two pairs of tights in his hands, one a pale ecru, and the other opaque black. She knew immediately which was to be pressed into service as a blindfold. Callum strolled casually back to the bed.
“I’m going to leave your camisole on. It’s pretty, and I can see your breasts perfectly well through it. You have the perkiest nipples I’ve seen in a long time, by the way. Will you scream if I squeeze them, I wonder?” He shrugged. “We’ll soon know. Turn around please, and put your hands behind you.”
Long seconds passed as Rachel sat, unmoving. Callum waited, watched her. Prayed silently that she wouldn’t bolt now, not at this stage. Intuitively he recognized the point at which he would have to press her, assert his authority. Just slightly, for now. He lifted one finger, pointed it upwards then swiveled it. The signal was clear, ‘Turn around. Now.” And at last, she did.
Callum tied her wrists at the small of her back, moving quickly to get her in position before she had much more opportunity to think, to intellectualize. No good would come of further discussion right now. He needed to get her feeling, not thinking, and the sooner the better. A couple of rocking orgasms and her doubts would evaporate. He had to get past and around her mental blocks to reach the sensual woman lurking beneath. He fully intended to see that woman writhing and moaning on this bed, within not very many minutes.
“Is that comfortable?” He tested the tightness of the restraint, slipping his fingers under the nylon to make sure her blood flow was not restricted.
Rachel nodded. Satisfied, he reached for the black tights.
“Close your eyes.” Rachel obeyed, and he tied the makeshift blindfold at the back of her head.
“Can you see anything? I want no peeping, now. Promise?”
“I, I promise…” Rachel’s voice was breathy, shaky, he knew she was scared, needing reassurance. Kneeling on the bed behind her, he drew her back into his arms, her slim shoulder blades against his bare chest. He trailed his lips down her neck, from that delicate little spot behind her ear, along her collar bone, then stopped to nibble the point of her shoulder. He rested his hands lightly on her stomach, on top of her camisole, his palms flat, his fingers extended. He circled them on her abdomen, dipping lower to tease and suggest, before changing direction and sliding his right hand swiftly up, under the camisole, to cup her left breast.
She gasped, but offered no protest other than that, so he molded and kneaded the soft, full mound under his hand. He circled the tight nipple with his finger, loving the way it swelled and hardened as he brushed his palm over it. Despite his earlier words, he was infinitely gentle as he stroked, caressed and calmed her—this was not the time for squeezing and screaming. Seconds later that her weight sagged against him as she relaxed in his arms.
He was in no hurry. He repeated the treatment on her other breast, savoring the full softness. He’d not exactly lived like a monk since he’d come out of jail, but there was something strange, fresh and incredibly enticing about Rachel’s breasts in his hands. They were on the small side, but filled his palms perfectly.
At last he was ready to move on. “Lie down, love,” he whispered into her ear. He relaxed his grip to allow her to move into position.
She did, obeying him immediately. Progress indeed.
“I’ll leave the camisole, like I said. But these, these have to go. Okay?” Kneeling now by her feet, Callum looped the fingers of both hands in the elastic at the top of her briefs and tugged slightly.
She stiffened at his touch, but only just, then lifted her hips helpfully at the right moment. He pulled the briefs past her bottom and drew them down her legs. He smiled at Rachel again as he dropped them on the carpet beside the bed. She lay still, her legs tightly closed. Callum smiled to himself—he’d soon deal with that.
He leaned down to graze her belly button with his lips, and smiled to himself in satisfaction at her jerk. She hadn’t expected that, he knew. She most likely expected him to just instruct her to open her legs, and who knows, she might have obeyed. He rather thought she would. But it was better this way. He continued to drop lazy, chaste little kisses on her tummy. She wriggled, bringing her knees up.
“That tickles.”
“Yeah? What about this?” He put his moth on her abdomen, just at the very top edge of the dark brown hair which arrowed down between her thighs, and blew a noisy raspberry. Her body arched under him, and she squealed. Her knees bent further, though she still kept them tight together. No matter, he slid his left hand quickly under them, and flattened his palm on the back of her thigh. A moment later he was caressing her bottom, sliding his thumb into the cleft between her buttocks.
“Oh. What are you…?” She broke off as he found his target. He slipped the tip of his thumb between the moist lips of her pussy, just briefly, but enough to let her know, in no uncertain terms, he was there and this was happe
ning. Now. And he wouldn’t be asking her permission anymore. And that it was bloody wonderful.
He quickly replaced his thumb with two fingers, sliding them deep into her slick channel as she visibly relaxed under his ministrations. She threw her head back, her body arching sharply as she let out a long moan. Her thighs parted as any remaining resistance or modesty crumbled in the face of pure lust and the first punch of overwhelming pleasure. He was quick to bring his other hand around the front to home in on her clit. He knew some Doms preferred to make a new sub wait for her first orgasm, but not Callum. He could do orgasm denial when the occasion called for it, but he was also a firm believer in quick wins, and went for it now. He explored her slick, hot pussy questing instinctively for that spot that evoked the greatest shudder, the quick hitch of breath. He found it, and curled his fingers to make sure he hit it every time. He added a third finger, thrusting them deep, loving the heat and the friction as Rachel’s body clenched around his hand.
He took her swollen clit gently between the finger and thumb of his right hand, rolled it, firmed his grip as her increasingly frenzied moans told him she was starting to unravel. He was going for fast, hard and sharp—and he got it. Moments later Rachel’s back arched, her hips thrusting upwards as her orgasm took over. Her entire body was taut, rigid, her cunt clenching wildly around his fingers as she writhed on the bed. Even as her frantic spasming subsided Callum continued to work his fingers relentlessly, thrusting and rubbing, determined to draw every last whisper of sensation from her.
He didn’t stop until she was at last quiet and still again, then he continued to stroke her lazily, circling her clit with the pad of his thumb as he gazed at her, considering his next trick. Her next thrilling installment. She’d had some fun—he wondered now if a little restraint might not be in order. However, one glance at her face, her eyes concealed behind the black blindfold but her lips slack and faintly smiling—a soft, almost surprised expression there, made him reconsider fast. She needed pleasure, at least this first time with him. And plenty of it.