Do it like Magic Mike (Regular Sex Issue 3)

by Kitty French

  I should probably care that the heel of her boot is perilously close to my balls, but man, what she’s doing feels good.

  Strip naked? Hell, yeah. If this is what it feels like to be a sex slave, bring it on. I’ve been missing out big time.

  I slink to my feet, brushing against her as I rise, and I whisper ‘yes mistress’ in her ear as I pass. Her creamy cheeks are flushed pink and her eyes sparkle as if she’s been drinking, and her lips pop apart as I slide my hands inside my trunks and rub my length. I close my eyes and put my head back as I get into it, knowing what she wants to see. When I open my eyes, she’s uncrossed her arms and her hands are splayed flat on the mattress, her arms braced straight against her sides. It’s a move that’s pushed the swell of her tits together and I badly want to get her naked too. If I just tread carefully for the next few minutes we can both get what we need tonight. Laurel thinks she wants control, but I know what she really needs. I’m going to give it to her soon too, but right now, I’m gonna take my Calvin’s off and let her see my cock, because she wants to see it and I want to show her.

  I slide my trunks down in one fluid move and step out of them, flicking them away with my toe so I can feast on that gratifying flicker of amusement in her eyes again.

  And I do, but it’s replaced quickly by lust as her eyes settle on my straining, naked cock. I’m in front of her again, and I stroke myself, up with the beat, down with the beat. Up, down. Up, down.

  ‘More.’ Her voice is thicker and I put my spare hand behind my head and thrust into my palm. Christ, I need to be careful. This feels so fucking good I could come, and that isn’t the objective here. Not yet, anyway. Her mouth is so close to my crotch that I have to close my eyes, look away and count to ten slowly.

  ‘Make yourself come.’

  Fuck! That sounded so damn sexy coming from her mouth, I almost go past the point where I can hold it. I open my eyes and look at her. I don’t want to do what she tells me anymore. How should I play this?

  The last thing I want to do is make her angry, because I know that she doesn’t really know what to do with this Catwoman persona she’s created. It’s all very well owning shackles and whips. It’s another thing completely knowing how to use them for pleasure as well as control. While I was on my knees just now I spotted the freshly discarded packaging from her cuffs and boots, plus an unopened bullet vibrator stuffed under the bed. I’m dealing with a rookie, but everyone knows a rookie with a gun is ten times more dangerous than an experienced shooter. Besides, Laurel isn’t just a rookie. She’s running scared from something, or somebody. Right now I’m just glad that somebody isn’t me, because I want to bang the living daylights out of her before morning.

  ‘If I come now, I’m not going to be any use to you.’ I’m playing tactically, falling back down onto my knees. ‘Let me please you first, mistress.’

  I lay my head on her leg and look up at her, and she looks back at me, startled.

  ‘Err...’ she says, and I put my hand on her knee and bat my eyelashes.

  ‘Please?’ I say, and as she sits there thinking, I reach for the zipper nestled between her tits.

  ‘Mistress?’

  She looks down at my fingers.

  ‘What would you like me to do?’ I’ve planted the seed and now I wait for her to accept command back and tell me to strip her.

  Slowly, she stands.

  ‘Take my boots off for me.’

  Well, I can’t say I’m going to be sad to see the back of them. They’re sexy as fuck but they’re lethal weapons. I glide my hands up her calves and slide the zippers down one by one. I help her out of them, placing them under the bed by the box they’ve only recently vacated.

  ‘Now get up and unzip my suit.’

  I look down to hide my smile, and then from my position on my knees, I place a single, lingering kiss against the PVC outline of her mound. She stares at me, wide eyed, and I stand up as if she imagined it even happened.

  ‘My zipper,’ she whispers. She’s a head shorter than me now that she’s free of those boots, and the scales of power re-balance in my favour once again.

  ‘Can I kiss you?’ I ask, because I suddenly want to, fiercely.

  She shakes her head. ‘No kissing.’

  I look at her, taken aback. Kissing is one of my things. ‘None at all?’

  ‘Not on the mouth.’

  For a few seconds, we stare at each other, and I have to work hard to remember that I’m being paid for this and what the customer wants the customer gets.

  I say nothing and reach for the silver tag of her zip. It’s cold, and I know it’s going to slide easily down. I resist the urge to go fast, to reveal her quickly, to pull it from her body so I can see her curves.

  Her breasts strain inside the PVC, and the moment I begin to move the zipper down to her midriff the two sides of the material pull apart and gape with relief. It looks like she’s wearing one of those too revealing catwalk dresses, her nipples only just covered.

  I’m having trouble regulating my breathing. Laurel sweeps her hair over one shoulder and then runs her fingers down the edges of the material and delicately peels it back far enough so her tits are fully on show.

  ‘I asked you to undress me,’ she says, her voice husky as she plays with her hard nipples. Man, was I right about her rack. Bigger than cooking apples, a damn fine handful, and I’ve got big hands.

  ‘I know what you asked me to do,’ I say softly, as I hook my thumbs into the shoulders of her suit and peel it slowly down until she’s naked from the waist up.

  She’s all luscious long hair and bare curves, like a fabulously slutty mermaid, and I’m the helpless fisherman that she’s lured onto the rocks.

  ‘You should probably ask me to touch your tits now.’

  We both know that I’m fully aware that she’s not a real dom, but I keep the pretense up for her benefit.

  She nods.

  ‘Do it.’

  Jesus, I wish I could kiss her. I’ve never seen a woman more in need of it.

  I reach out my hands, but I don’t do as she expects. I stroke her hair, smooth it with the flat of my palms, and then run the back of my fingers over her jaw. She can’t stop herself from trembling, and she closes her eyes when my thumb slides across her bottom lip.

  ‘Don’t kiss me.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I promise, letting my fingers move down the column of her neck and fan out over her shoulders. She’s delicate, but somehow she’s strong too. It’s a heady combination.

  And finally, I cup the weight of her breasts, warm and heavy in my hands as I move my thumbs across her nipples. I don’t wait for her to ask me to dip my head. I’m there, open mouthed on her skin, trailing my tongue over the slopes and dips of her flesh. Jesus, she’s glorious. I take one of her nipples into my mouth and suck on it, licking around and over it until she gulps and grips my hair.

  ‘More?’ I ask, watching her eyes as I hold her tits and slide hot kisses all over them to her other nipple.

  She nods, greedy.

  ‘More.’

  I mouth her, then slip my hands down her body to cup her ass cheeks and lift her up to my hungry mouth, letting my cock press against her PVC-clad crotch when she wraps her legs around me.

  Can you rip PVC? I wish I knew for certain, because if it was a sure move I’d make it. I just don’t want to risk looking like a prat if I try and fail. Although to be honest, I’m that fucking hard I think I could probably rip it with the force of my cock alone.

  When I look at her again I can see my own slightly delirious lust mirrored in her eyes, but I can see other things there too that remind me I need to slow down. I have to, because I don’t want to just break her man drought. I want to change her misconceptions, to show her that things don’t have to be the way she thinks in bed. Someone has made Laurel think that the only way she can enjoy sex is to control it, and I want to show her that she’s wrong.

  So I place her gently back down on her feet and pull back wi
th my hands resting on her shoulders.

  ‘Permission to take control?’ I ask, and I see and understand the battle that goes on behind her troubled gaze.

  ‘You can take it back anytime you want,’ I add quietly, rubbing my thumbs over her raised collarbones.

  Her eyes are sombre now, serious and full of questions. When she eventually nods, I feel as if I’ve won the goddamn lottery.

  I lower my head and brush a kiss over her shoulder as my fingers trace down her stomach to the zip of the catsuit. I draw her into me and snake my arm around her waist, then hold her there for a few seconds, my other hand toying with the metal between our bodies. She’s so tense, and instinctively I kiss the top of her hair as I lower the zip to its base just over her mound. My fingertips linger there, far enough inside to graze between her legs. She sways into me, and because I know she expects me to push my hand further inside, I ease it out instead and rest my hands on her hips, slowly rolling that PVC suit down over the curve of her ass. I can’t tell you how much I want to drag it off and throw her on that bed, but I force myself to go slow, revealing her inch by creamy inch. It’s around her thighs now, and she’s biting her lip. She doesn’t look very dominant this second.

  She looks... wrong-footed and vulnerable, and again I wish I could kiss her because that’s what she really needs right now.

  So I kiss her face instead, her eyes, her jawline, and as I peel the suit down her legs, I lower myself down and leave a ribbon of kisses down her body, between her breasts, over her ribs.

  She’s very, very still. I’m aware that I’m acting in a way she hasn’t anticipated, and to be honest, stripped back and slow isn’t my usual style either.

  But then Laurel isn’t my usual kind of client. Right now she doesn’t feel like a client at all. She feels like a friend in need.

  The suit hits the floor and she steps out of it, and once again my face is level with her crotch. This time though, it’s not covered in PVC. It’s nude, and she’s freshly waxed, completely hair free. My preference would be for a neat, small bush, or a landing strip at least, but from here I can see the top of her lips and I lean in to press a kiss there. If I push my tongue forward now, I could lick her clit. I could, and I want to, but I don’t.

  I stand up instead and scoop her up, catching her by surprise as I set her down on top of the tall chest of drawers against the wall. She laughs, surprised.

  ‘Why am I up here?’

  I part her knees and kiss the insides of her thighs.

  ‘So you can watch me.’ I place one single kiss over her closed labia. ‘Wait there.’

  I back off and feel around under the bed, then go back, ripping the bullet free of its packaging as I go.

  Laurel watches me warily. ‘I wore the other one out,’ she says, defensive. I nod, even though I don’t think she’s telling the truth. Her eyes round when I click the button and the silver bullet buzzes into life.

  ‘Open your legs.’

  I slide between them when she does and pull her closer to the edge. I linger, kissing her tits while I run the bullet over her inner thighs. She’s breathing fast, waiting, and I look up into her eyes the first time I place the tip of the bullet against her folds.

  Her mouth pops open, and I watch the movement, dying to kiss her.

  She lifts one of her knees into her chest, opening herself wider for me to explore, so I take her cue and drop my head between her legs.

  She’s excited. Wet with it when I part her lips, slippery with it when I run the tip of my index finger down the length of her.

  ‘Some men love tits,’ I say, mouthing her inner thighs. ‘And some men love arses.’ I pause to really splay her wide. ‘Me, I’m a clit man.’

  I hear her sharp intake of breath and feel her hands in my hair when I massage her clitoris lightly as I speak, and then her full on moans when I take it inside my mouth and lick her.

  ‘You, Laurel, have the prettiest clit I’ve ever seen.’

  I’m not lying. She’s a delicate shade of deep, rose pink, lust-swollen and begging for my mouth. I don’t hold back, because the girl is panting, and I don’t need to hold her open anymore because she’s doing it for me, her perfectly polished nails digging into her lips to give me a better view.

  She jumps as if I’ve given her an electric shock when I buzz the vibrator against her opening, sliding it inside her and then up and over her clit alongside my tongue.

  Christ, I want to fuck her now. My cock is almost blue with it.

  Laurel grips my hair suddenly, almost yanking it out of my head as her body goes into spasm. I go with her, pushing her harder, licking her in small, fast thrusts as she comes in my mouth, the vibrator buzzing furiously inside her.

  I wait, gentling my mouth as her grip thankfully slackens in my hair, and then I kiss my way up her body and pull her into my arms. She’s shaking as I lift her down and lay her back on the bed. I pick up a foil packet and rip it open with my teeth as I lie down beside her and sheath myself, then I slide across, opening her knees with my own.

  She’s underneath me, and there’s something I need to do.

  ‘Please let me kiss you,’ I breathe, my cock between her legs, so close to fucking. We’re eye-to-eye and hip-to-hip, and a tear slides down into her hairline.

  She doesn’t answer, just drops her eyes to study my mouth, and I can see longing written all over her face. This is a girl who has never been kissed properly, I know it, and as I rock my hips down and thrust into her, I lower my mouth over hers and slowly, slowly start to kiss her as she deserves to be kissed. I think more about the kiss than the fuck, taking my time, coaxing her lips with mine. When I feel the tip of her tongue slide out I match her movement, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss. I hold her face, thumbing her tears away, teaching her how to kiss and be kissed until she’s crazy for more, open-mouthed hot, hungry kisses, her teeth clashing against mine as our bodies writhe on the sheets. She wraps her legs around my waist when my thrusts get harder, deeper, and her hips rise to bang mine. Her tongue is in my mouth when she comes, and mine is in hers when I come with a yell a few last, furious fucks later.

  Our breathing is erratic, our body’s slick with sweat. I hold her close for a few silent minutes, stroking her back.

  ‘I think you’ve put the door restraints on upside down,’ I say, after a while.

  ‘I’m acrobatic,’ she whispers, but I can hear the laughter behind her words. She knows it’s a fair cop. She’s no more a dominatrix than I’m a transvestite.

  ‘Why did you hire me?’ I ask, the sweet curve of her ass in my hand.

  She sighs, her breath warm on my chest. ‘Because it’s been a year today.’

  ‘Since...?’ I twist a long lock of her hair around my fingers.

  ‘Since I last had sex. Bad sex. All of the sex I’ve ever had has been bad. All of the men I’ve ever been with have been bastards.’

  I frown, mad at my entire brotherhood for treating this woman so shittily that she has no idea how fabulous sex should be.

  ‘And then I heard about you...’ she shrugs. ‘I guess I figured that if I pay for it, then it’s on my terms.’

  ‘Not all men are bastards. You don’t need whips and cuffs to be in control,’ I tell her, pushing myself up on one elbow. ‘You’ve just picked the wrong men, Laurel.’

  Her smile breaks my fucking heart.

  ‘Can I pick you?’

  ‘You don’t need me,’ I tell her, because she doesn’t. ‘I’m not boyfriend material.’

  Laurel strokes my cheek, and then she says something that pulls me up short.

  ‘Not all women are bastards, either, Finn.’

  We look each other in the eyes, and my cock twitches.

  She sees through me. No one else has ever done that before. I reach between us and finger her clit, and she smiles.

  ‘You better give me my money’s worth.’

  I play with her, finding her rhythm. ‘Tonight’s on me.’

  Her back arches a
little with pleasure.

  ‘I’ll only book you again if you don’t charge me.’

  I watch her face as she comes, then kiss her open mouth.

  ‘I’m banking on it.’

  I kiss her goodbye at the door, then push the money she’s given me back through her letter box as I leave, secure in the knowledge that I’ll get it back and then some next week.

  On the other side of the door, Laurel, or whatever her name is, smiles and pockets the money, then heads out of the back door of her flat and down the stone stairs into the basement... or the torture dungeon, as she lovingly likes to call it.

  ‘Candy from a baby,’ she murmurs, dropping her robe. Finn had been almost too easy; a few discarded Lovehoney packets and a deliberately upside down strapping system had been more than enough to pull the wool over his eyes. That was the thing with men. They only saw what they wanted to see. She didn't let herself dwell on the unexpected tears she'd cried upstairs, or the unsettling moments where it had felt as if Finn saw right through her facade to the little girl who'd never been good enough. She was good enough now, and no man would ever tell her otherwise again.

  'You're in luck,' she says, shaking off the lingering sense of vulnerability as she surveys the wall of whips to choose her weapon. 'Looks like you might be getting out of here soon.'

  She glances across at the accountant from the second floor flat. He raises his eyes slowly, pleading, but he doesn’t speak. He can’t, because he’s gagged and strapped to a whipping post.

  She lifts her choice down, a black leather bull whip with a pink plaited handle. The thought of using it on Finn makes her nipples stiffen.

  She pauses just long enough to send a text before she raises the whip, and as she prowls around Dennis her phone lights up on the workbench.

  'Tomorrow night's booking just cancelled. Fancy dinner?'

  I hope you enjoyed reading about Finn and Laurel’s encounter!

  Click to preview issue 4 now, in US or UK

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