by Jaye Peaches
Rick nudged her, pushing her backwards, and she lay still while his fingers explored between her legs. The now familiar forefinger slid between her folds, pushing her swollen lips apart. Leah convulsed slightly, and a burst of electricity shot through her body as he expertly teased and probed her wet core until she opened wide for him.
As he knelt between her spread legs, she saw his cock, admired its length and girth. He held it in his fist—tugging, massaging it until it glistened with pre-cum from the tip. The purple end lowered, ready to push into her.
“I don’t want to be rough,” he said, breathless.
“Do what you want,” she moaned. “Hard and deep, please. Let me feel you, know you’re really here and this isn’t a dream.”
He thrust into her, and she gave about him, stretching her tight pussy until he reached the hilt. Leaning over her, hands on either side of her head, he incarcerated Leah. Slightly disconcerted by his commanding stance, she squirmed a little, watching his face for a reaction. With a wry smile, he lowered his mouth and sought out a nipple. His mouth encased it, and she could feel the suction as the apex of her breast drew deep into his orifice. She winced as his teeth held her nipple, then he let it go and he repeated his little tease on her other breast.
She grabbed at his shoulders, clinging to him. “Oh, please, please,” implored Leah.
He did as she asked. He pounded into her, letting her release all her pent-up emotions, all the years of holding him at bay, dismissing him from her waking and sleeping dreams. She couldn’t stop the orgasm. It came over fast and struck her like a tidal wave.
“Again, beauty,” he grunted, continuing his own relentless thrusts.
She clawed at his back as her sensitive clitoris reengaged and her red buttocks chafed on the bed covers. She didn’t care; it added to all the raw emotions circulating her erotically drenched body.
His hazel eyes closed briefly as he came, mouth dropping open with a deep groan of satisfaction. As he filled her to the brim with his come, she joined him for another climax.
Rick crashed down on top of her and then quickly rolled off.
“Wow, that was good,” he said, wheezing.
“Are you alright?” she asked, lying against his body. She remembered he had asthma.
“Yes, yes. Really good,” he smiled at her. “Rest. Then, perhaps we should eat.”
Her eyelids drooped and he wrapped the bedcover about her body as she drifted off into sleep.
* * *
Leah woke to the smell of cooking. Slipping on a bathrobe, she cautiously went downstairs. Rick stood in the kitchen wearing nothing but his trousers and vest. Standing over her stove, he was stirring something in a saucepan.
“Smells delicious. What is it?” She peered over his arm, skimming a kiss on his rounded bicep as she leaned forward.
“My favourite,” grinned Rick. “Macaroni cheese! I will bake it for a little, in the oven. You can bathe and then it will be ready.”
Leah thought it a good plan. Later, scraping the dish clean, she complimented him on his cooking skills.
“Limited,” he confessed. “There were always chefs where I worked.”
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” she said, laying her fork down.
“About what?” He shifted his eyes away from her face.
“Why you left Italy. I don’t think it was entirely about coming back here.”
“No. I can’t talk about it. It would be better for you if I didn’t.”
“I see. Well, no, I don’t. But I’m not going to push you.”
“How’s your bum?” He changed the subject.
“Tender and… a good reminder,” she admitted. “What next? For us?”
“I’m your driver, contracted for six months. I’ll take you to work, to wherever you want to go. But I won’t take any nonsense in my car. You will behave, Miss Leah,” he said slyly.
“Agreed,” said Leah tentatively. “What about upstairs? That wasn’t a one-off?”
“Not for me. You?”
“Oh, no. I would like to do that again. But you’re my driver…” Her voice trailed away.
“Your estate pays me. Think of it that way.”
“It’s not that.” She brushed the long hair out of her face. For the first time since he had spanked her in the warehouse, her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
“What?” he said, alarmed, reaching out to touch her hand.
“I need help,” she said, and the tears began to fall. “I’m such a mess, Rick. I have friends, girlfriends, but they just don’t understand how anyone with all this money, these opportunities, can feel so empty. Since Daddy died, I’ve just about held on to this job. I can’t get up in the morning. I drink too much and, and…”
Her voice fell away into sobs. Rick pulled on her arm, drew her across to his side of the kitchen table, and sat her on his knee.
“I’m going to take care of you, just like last time. I will get you up every morning, tuck you up at night, make sure you are safe. All those things, but this time it will be different. I’m not going to hold back, Leah. I will spank you if you don’t look after yourself and if you are rude and argumentative towards me. However, now I can kiss you better, I can hold you, embrace and make love to you too. What do you say to that, Miss Leah?”
She wiped her nose on her sleeve, just like a small child, and he shook his head in mock indignation.
“I would like that. Please.”
Chapter Five
The best way to get Leah up in the morning, decided Rick, was to sleep with her. It might seem too soon, too quick, but it all fitted together very easily. Why go back to his pokey flat every night, all the way across the city, when she needed him in the mornings, bright and early? She offered him a spare room. It made sense for him to have his privacy. Their relationship had barely begun, they had to catch up, grow used to each other’s company, find the common ground, and learn to tolerate habits and daily routines.
In the morning, she drank tea, Rick preferred coffee. He ate cereal, Leah had toast. She had the luxury of an electric shower, which she rarely used as she favoured the bath. He couldn’t believe his fortune as he had become accustomed to showering while living abroad. It was during the evenings that they had to adjust and accommodate each other.
Once back from work, Leah still had matters to sort out regarding her father’s estate. The legacy of such a vast business empire and her undefined role in its future. She could sell all of her shares and walk away from it, very rich and free of all responsibilities. Or, she told Rick, she could maintain an interest, as her father would have wished.
Rick’s evenings, so soon after returning to the UK, had meant little to him. He had rediscovered some of his mates, found them in their pubs and dens, tempting him to talk about his exploits abroad. That was the problem; he couldn’t. It wasn’t ethical in one case and dangerous in the other. He joked off their questions and kept his head down. Instead, he showed a passing interest in football, the docks, or the rise of immigrants to the city. All topical but not of any great interest to Rick.
Leah sewed. She designed her own dresses, skirts, and blouses, inspired by the fashion catalogues she pored over and helped create. Sitting at her Singer sewing table, the mechanism whirred as she dreamt up dresses for every occasion. He would smile as she twirled about the room, showing off her latest creation. She had aptitude, he thought, but what did he know, he had very little experience of fashion.
The first two weeks came and went, with him basking in the newfound delight of regular sex with an attractive woman. Leah melted in the bedroom, when she invited him in, which was most nights. Gradually the balance shifted and she stopped inviting and let him decide. He would knock on her door and slip in, climb between the sheets, and begin to explore her fascinating body with his hands and tongue. She never said no to him.
Making love to her had altered in preference too. Leah quickly demonstrated she liked Rick to be bold, almost fearsome with his
body. She revelled in his hard thrusts, visibly showing her delight if he bent her delectable body into a new position, taking his own senses on an exploratory mission. She learnt quickly; neither novice nor experienced, she allowed him the upper hand and moulded her form to his designs.
Oral sex she took to with ease and quickly showed him she had talent. It was one night, as he fingered her tiny anal bud, that she protested at him.
“No?” he said, rocking his hard cock between her cleft.
“I’m not sure,” she stuttered.
“Not yet, then,” he said. He didn’t doubt he could convince her otherwise.
Then, after the fortnight honeymoon period, her problems began to return. The hiatus of good behaviour ended. She struggled to rise in the morning, she snapped at him over breakfast, and then on one occasion she stumbled back to the car after a night out with friends, clearly drunk. Once home, having escorted her upstairs, Rick gave her a reprimand and told her if she didn’t get up on time the next day, he would spank her.
Swaying by the door to her bedroom, Leah glared at him for a second, eyes blinking, her mouth shaped as if she intended to speak. Then her lips pressed tight together. Rick waited to catch her, convinced she was about to fall. Instead, she pulled herself up straight and marched through the door, slamming it behind her.
Rick contemplated following her into the room. Initially, he could not countenance climbing into bed with her. Her lures—the charm of her curvaceous body, her dark shiny hair, even when she was drunk and stroppy—were irresistible; he would be safer in the spare room. Then he thought he heard her retching. Striding into the bedroom, he ignored her futile protests, pointing out she needed to be taken care of and then when she flopped on the bed, acquiescent and semi-conscious, he resigned himself to putting her to bed and keeping a watchful eye on her stupefied state.
The next day came and she lay in bed, refusing to answer his calls and ignoring her ringing alarm clock. He stared at her in disbelief, wrapped in her bed sheets and hiding her face from him.
“You were warned, Miss Leah. Now you will face the consequences. Get out of bed, get dressed or else these consequences will worsen. As it is, I will deal with your tardiness at a future point in time.”
* * *
After Rick had left the bedroom, Leah peered out from underneath the covers. Her eyes bright and awake, she let out low groan, an inward growl of frustration. She hadn’t intended to make him cross; although he didn’t sound very angry with her, she had thought her actions might irritate him. Confusion reigned in her mind and the heart of the problem was the conflicting role of her chauffeur turned lover.
Too fast, everything perhaps had been done with haste. The inviting him to stop over had happened on one night and then promptly blossomed into every night and then she had provided him with one of her spare rooms for his meagre possessions and clothing.
Their relationship remained undefined. He drove her to work, to her social functions, the weekly visit to the tennis club, and the odd foray into the shops. All proper and what she had imagined a driver would do. Except at night, Rick morphed into her lover, creeping between the sheets, touching her and sending her to a heavenly place.
The evening before she had lost track of the number of cocktails she had consumed. It was a weakness of hers to forget the alcohol content and glug away without consideration for her dizzy head and staggering legs. Dancing to the latest hits, she had crashed into people, knocking their drinks flying, argued with the barman about who should be served first, and at one point she stood on the table and did the twist, her mini-skirt riding up her legs, showing her frilly knickers to everyone. The catcalls had been raucous from the male bystanders.
Rick, perched in the corner of the club with his tonic water, had given her a serious frown of disgust, even more so when she nearly threw up in his precious Mercedes. Not his, the company’s, but he treated it like his own car.
Helping her to bed, she had expected him to sleep in his own room, but he didn’t. There had been no lovemaking, but he told her she needed to be looked after, especially if she was feeling sick. She had whispered a ‘thank you,’ shuffled up to his warm body and then, with the bedroom swirling about her, become awash with guilt. She didn’t think her actions that evening would go down as her best; she had told him she would behave and her gallivanting had been shameless.
Would he spank her? The thought had drifted into her befuddled mind as she fell asleep. Waking up, with Rick already in the shower, she had not overcome the guilt and shame of being drunk. Her friends had even shunned her towards the end of the evening; the recollection came back in her sobriety. Hiding under the sheets, she pretended to be asleep. It was an unconscious act at first, then she understood why she had to be late that morning. She needed him to spank her. The realisation dawned on her overhung mind and took root. But why did she want him to punish her?
Punishment. She used the word in her head and then dismissed it. It wasn’t what she sought from Rick. The idea was humiliating, being spanked like a naughty child. She was an adult, she should be able to correct her own attitudes and behaviours. She could, she knew she could, if she put her mind to it. She had survived three years at university without Rick keeping an eye on her.
It meant some other deep need had to be met. Trying to describe it, put logic and rational reasons to her jumbled-up meanderings didn’t work. Climbing out of bed, she decided it was not down to her. If Rick believed she deserved to be spanked, then so be it. If not, she would find her own way to show remorse for her behaviour.
Sex would be a good offering. Over the past two weeks it had been an amazing revelation. Orgasms galore, pussy licked out, cock sucked, and her insatiable lust to learn how to be the best in bed had kept them busy.
There had been the contraceptive discussion and Leah had been embarrassed to admit she was on the pill, which led to her talking about her previous bedfellows, all students: two one-night stands and a three-month boyfriend who cheated on her and left her uninterested in men for a considerable time.
She had confessed to being ashamed at the way she lost her virginity. “I was a little drunk,” she had said, pulling a face.
Rick had kissed her forehead and simply said, “What’s done is done. Don’t worry about it. However, this drinking, it has to be controlled. You haven’t done drugs, have you?” he had asked abruptly.
They both knew the clubs and pubs were increasingly used to push the latest concoctions. “No, absolutely not,” she had said with conviction. “I may be thoughtless, but I’m not idiotic.”
She had forgotten to ask Rick about his experiences, but she was convinced the man had no bad habits and there was no way he would become mixed up in drugs.
Neither of them said anything of substance in the car on the way to Littlewoods. No mention of spankings. It only made Leah feel worse, not better. The winter mornings were finally ending, no more driving to work in semi-darkness. Soon there would be spring, and she would be able to spend time outdoors. Long evenings of sunlight, and she hoped it would keep her out of the clubs; those places were a magnet for her need to unwind and forget her troubles, her lost parents—she couldn’t help but be drawn to the bars. The swinging sixties were in their last year, Merseybeat had passed its prime. She had to move on. Somehow.
* * *
His hand itched all day to spank her. To take her over his knee and see her pale bottom turn a shade of red. He hadn’t intended to enjoy spanking her. Having witnessed a few gruesome beatings at his army schools, he had never seen corporal punishment as erotic or pleasurable. How could he explain to her the way he felt?
At the same time, he did want her to understand he expected better from her. Now that they were lovers—something he could not believe in the cold light of day—she would have to remember that she should conform to his wishes. It was how his old-fashioned father had educated him: women at home, taking care of their husbands, meekly and obediently. In his father’s presence, Rick
had kept his mouth shut about his own mother’s absence. Fortunately for Rick’s father, the army served as a more than adequate replacement for his missing wife.
Rick and Leah were only lovers though and not husband and wife. Rick couldn’t force or demand Leah to be obedient to him. He spanked her in the hope she would see her own way there. Now he had come to enjoy the intimate act, other emotions had come into play, and he was fighting hard to understand and control them.
Clubs were her weakness. Those private establishments—away from the workmen’s pubs where the dockers frowned upon women—were her nemesis. She had become hooked on the music, the bright strobe lights, and the ridiculous drinks, which were designed to entice the younger generation rather than encourage them to savour a quality drink. It gave Rick an idea.
Friends were not his forte, but those he did foster were mutually beneficial. Easily liked by most people, he had one such friend he could call upon for a favour. It would have to be Saturday morning; before then his plan would not be feasible. However, Leah had to know he hadn’t let her raucous evening and subsequent lingering in bed slip him by.
He told her in the car on the way home after her day’s work.
“I haven’t forgotten about last night. Your sordid behaviour in the bar: vulgar and unladylike. Nor will I ignore you lying in bed this morning, having told me you would be good about getting to work on time. But you will have to wait until Saturday before I can deal with these issues, Miss Leah.” He added the formality. There in the car, she may be the client, but he saw a different role for himself—her protector.
Her face in the mirror surprised him. He had expected her to look petulant or disagreeable; instead she almost smiled and then, as if to truly digest his words, she gave a tiny nod of agreement.
* * *
Driving into the city early Saturday morning, Leah had no clue of their destination. Rick had asked her to dress in a mini-skirt and she had put on long boots to keep her legs warm and a fluffy scarf about her neck, plus a woolly bobble hat. The morning dew shimmered on the grass verges and the daffodils added a spark of bright yellow to the dull morning.