Dirty Bad Secrets

by West, Jade

  “Whoa,” she said. “What’s this?”

  “What does it look like?”

  She dug her heels in, just enough that her pretty tits bounced. “We’re doing this?”

  I yanked her forwards. “Apparently so.”

  She slammed into my body, and her arms folded around my neck. Her lips were smiling as they met mine, and my hands were all over her, coming to rest against her face as I walked us backwards towards my bed. She broke off the kiss with a filthy giggle, then did a twirl, taking in the room.

  “Nice,” she said. “Very… masculine.”

  I shrugged. “If you say so.”

  I followed her eyes as they wandered. Grey walls, with deep charcoal drapes, tasteful without fuss. My beside cabinets were more cluttered than I’d have liked, too much insight for Faye’s greedy, inquisitive mind. Business cards, and a pile of old photos, keys and business notes. She soaked it in and turned her attention to the bed. It was considerably bigger than hers, a tumble of heavy white bedding that I’d vacated in a hurry. My dressing gown was in a crumpled heap at the foot, not that I ever used the thing. Not before I had a guest in the house. Needs must. Only now there were no needs, we’d well and truly crossed that fucking line. She nodded her head as the full scale of the mirrored wardrobes became apparent.

  “I see…”

  “You will see, that’s the point.”

  “Call him Mr Vain.”

  “Call him Mr likes to see who he’s fucking from any angle he chooses.” I was bluffing. They’d been installed post Faye departing for Italy, post the wane of my appetite for random submissive pussy, but she didn’t need to know that. I unhooked a selection of shirts I’d put up for ironing, casting them aside to free the entire scope of the mirrors, then I watched her reflection and Faye watched me watching her. She dipped her head, looking up through mischievous eyes, and her posture shifted, heavy on one hip, the curve of her waist accentuated and beautiful. She ran a hand down the slope of her body as I watched, brushing over her hip to the toned flesh of her thighs, and then up again, dipping her fingers between her legs. I swallowed. “Well well, Faye. Here we are.”

  “Chapter one,” she whispered.

  “Chapter one.” I positioned myself on the foot of the bed, sitting comfortably, with my feet firmly on the floor and my cock firmly in my hand. “Come here,” I beckoned her towards me. “On my lap.”

  “Is that an order?”

  “You could see it that way.”

  She tilted her head and there was that mischief again, always pushing it. “I thought we left the coin toss in the club?”

  “This isn’t about the coin toss,” I said. “It’s about you doing what you’re bloody told. You want to do what you’re told, Faye, cut the bullshit. Just get on my fucking lap and stop your whining.”

  She laughed. “Ever the charmer.”

  “Ever the realist.”

  For once she did as she was told. Her eyes were glued to her reflection as she backed up towards me. She was stunning in the lamplight, her skin glowing in soft amber, the shadows of her body so fucking tempting. She sat down and wriggled, my cock hard against her ass, then made to shift herself to take me, but I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her in position.

  “Patience,” I said. “This is chapter fucking one, Faye, we haven’t even started.”

  “What, then?” she whispered, and she was aching to be dominated, I could feel it in every horny ripple of her body. “What are you going to do to me?”

  One of my hands moved up to her throat, and I watched her eyes in the mirror as they fluttered and closed. She yielded to the pressure, resting her head back against my shoulder without fight. I spread her legs with my other hand, hooking her knees over mine, the heat of her thighs burning mine. I cupped the gorgeous mound of her pussy, slipping my fingers between her rings. There was a whole fucking story there, I just knew it.

  “You pissed me off today,” I growled. “Blabbing away with that loose tongue of yours, you want to keep your pretty mouth closed, Faye, or I’ll have to make sure it’s filled with something to my taste.”

  “You piss me off every day,” she hissed.

  “Is that so?”

  She nodded, but she was squirming. I felt her swallow, her soft throat so delicate against my palm. “Punish me,” she whispered. “Not for the coin toss, just because you want to.”

  I teased her clit with my fingers, just the slightest touch. “Hands on your thighs, don’t you dare move them.”

  She did as she was told, and took a deep breath, resting her cheek against mine.

  “Fucking hell, Faye, you’re perfect like this. Why can’t you be like this more often?”

  My question was rhetorical, and there wouldn’t have been opportunity to respond if she’d wanted to. I landed my palm hard, right between her legs, and how delicious her pussy felt, so soft and so fucking vulnerable. She jerked but didn’t fight it, and subtly shifted, opening herself wider.

  “Yes…” she breathed. “Hurt me there…I want it…”

  “That makes two of us.” I landed another, cupping her after the sting, and massaging her soft pussy lips until she relaxed. “Isn’t it nice to be on the same fucking page for once?”

  Her eyes opened and fixed on mine in the mirror. It was a beautiful moment, exquisite and charged and insane. I slapped her again, hard, over and over again, keeping a steady rhythm until her fingers were clenched around her thighs. She began to jerk, and her face showed her pain, the softest moans escaping her mouth. I tipped her face to mine, landed a kiss on her open mouth as my palm struck, and my cock pulsed as I felt her moan.

  I pushed two fingers inside her, and she shuddered, her body rippling as the endorphins flooded.

  “How does it feel?”

  “Good…” she whispered. “It feels nice… it burns…”

  I worked my fingers inside her until I felt her body relax, and then I withdrew them and resumed her punishment. The slap of palm against wet pussy was the stuff of fucking dreams. She was horny, and every smack sent her reeling, wriggling, twitching against me.

  “Look at your sweet cunt, Faye, see how beautiful it is.”

  Her pussy was pink and swollen, tender and vulnerable. “More,” she hissed. “Fuck, Andy, hurt me some more…”

  “Good girl.” I pressed my lips to her temple. “I want you to watch this. I want you to see everything.”

  She nodded and her eyes were wide but glazed, fixed on my hand as I rubbed her hard little clit. She braced herself, her back arched against my chest. “Hit me,” she said. “Hit me, Andy, just fucking hit me.”

  I unleashed it all, every frustration at her smart fucking tongue, all the humiliation at her crazy little games, and then there was more, so much more. Her dismissive emails, months of nothing but thanks, Andy, kiss kiss kiss as I waited for her to come home. Come home to our fucking club, come home to me. Fuck, how I punished her pussy, and she took it, she took all of it. Her breath turned ragged, and her thighs started shaking, but she took it. My palm was tingling, and her cunt was hot and sore, beautifully pink, and flushed from the pain.

  “Oh God,” she breathed. “Oh God, it hurts.”

  I spread her lips, pinching her clit and rolling it between my fingers. “You’re so wet, Faye, you dirty little bitch.”

  “Please…” she said, and I don’t think she even knew what she was asking for.

  When I slapped her again she yelped and lurched forwards, holding her breath as I eased her back. My hand pressed to her throat. “Stay still.”

  She nodded, but lurched again as the next landed, circling her hips until the pain subsided. I slapped her until she squealed and closed her thighs, only to kiss her neck until she opened back up for me. Over and over and fucking over, and my cock was straining to let go against her ass and my own breath was raw and raspy. I slapped her pretty tits, and my breath caught at the sight. The mirror was a wonder, a beautiful fucking wonder. It captured everything, ev
ery dirty little fucking thing. I pulled at her nipples until she screwed her eyes shut, and I slapped those beautiful tits until they were marked with my handprints. I wanted to mark her, I wanted me on her, I wanted her body tainted with mine, branded permanently with my own dirty fucking need for this reckless, frivolous, delicate fucking creature.

  And that’s when I knew. The fucking rings. Of course I knew, I’d known it all the time.

  “He put those rings there, didn’t he?”

  Her eyes flew open, her breathing ragged. “I … I don’t want to talk about it.”

  I twisted her nipple. “Come on, Faye, just say it.”

  “No,” she hissed, and I slapped her pussy until tears sprung.

  “I’ve had enough of these dirty fucking secrets.”

  “Like you haven’t got any of your own,” she breathed. “I know you have secrets, Andy. You’re no better than me.”

  She was right, of course. So right that the room was charged with it. I reverted to my questioning without so much as a flinch.

  “Did you want him to do it? Did you ask him to pierce your dirty little cunt, Faye? Did you beg him for it?”

  She tensed as if I’d put a current through her, but I didn’t let her go. I was a lot stronger than her, and I held her tight to me, my fingers already working their way inside her.

  “I didn’t beg,” she rasped. “I cried.”

  “Because it hurt? It must have fucking hurt.”

  “Because I was scared…”

  Her words slapped me, and some dark fucking monster uncurled in my gut. My body softened, my grip on her loosening as I sought out her clit and played nice. “It’s ok,” I said. “Relax. It’s alright, Faye, just relax.”

  She did relax, slowly, pressing herself back against me, temple to temple. Her eyes wouldn’t meet mine in the mirror, they were hooded and low, her breath short as my fingers worked her clit.

  “It was his idea,” she said. “He wanted it.”

  “Did you want it?”

  The softest shrug. “I wanted what he wanted.”

  “That’s not the same thing.”

  “It wouldn’t have made any difference. He always got what he wanted, that’s how it worked.”

  “That’s not how it should have worked, Faye.”

  She smiled, and it was bitter. “You can talk.”

  “I’ve still got your teeth marks on my ass,” I said. “I think I can talk, actually.”

  She breathed, then moaned as I picked up the pace around her clit. “I didn’t like his friends. Two of them, they were always around. Cynthia and Richard. Cynthia was an evil fucking bitch.”

  “Go on…” I encouraged.

  “It was Vincent’s idea but Cynthia pushed it. Said she’d done a piercing course, had all the stuff.”

  “Had she?”

  She shrugged again. “I don’t know.”

  “And you let her?”

  “I let him.” She lolled her head back, squirming her hips. “I’m scared of needles. Like really scared.”

  “He knew that?”

  “He knew. That’s why it was such a big deal. That’s why she pushed it so hard.”

  I wrapped my arm around her, across her breasts. “Tell me.”

  “They were drunk on Prosecco, so was I. Cynthia brought out the piercing kit, the needles and the rings, and I freaked out like a baby. It wasn’t my finest hour, Andy. It was embarrassing.”

  I battled the rage, focussed on her soft, sweet pussy against my fingers. “What happened?”

  “They called me a baby, of course. Laughed at me. Vincent told me to stop disobeying, gave me all the give yourself to me, pretty bird, be my beautiful magpie shit.”

  “And you did?”

  “I cried, and I lay down after they talked me into it for ages on end, then freaked out and started shaking. But good old Cynthia had it covered. She took my wrists, sat on them, told me to stop being a spoiled little brat.”

  “What did Vincent do?” I fought to keep my voice calm.

  She let out a low laugh, a horrible sound. “He pinned my thighs with his knees, held me steady with his weight. I couldn’t have squirmed out of there if I’d have tried, and I did try, believe me.”

  “And he pierced you?”

  “No. Not then. That would have been too barbaric, even for Vincent.” She sighed. “He tutted, and disapproved, and said I was giving into fear, and true submission means fronting up to whatever scares us. He was a convincing talker, as you might expect.”

  “He’s a sick fuck,” I snarled, then forced it back. I stilled my fingers. “Do you want me to stop? I can stop.”

  She shook her head. “No… please don’t…” She whimpered as I pinched her clit, then arched her back as I resumed my rhythm. “He made me tell him that I wanted it.”

  “So you told him?”

  “Yes, I told him. I was shaking, and I felt sick, and I had tears all down my face, but I told him, and part of me even believed it.”

  “And he did it?”

  “He asked Cynthia how to do it. They rubbed me down with alcohol, and pinched me with forceps until I squealed. Cynthia said it was easy, that it should be fast and clean, one thick needle straight through.”

  “Vincent did it?”

  “He was about to, and then I could hear it in her voice, this nasty little giggle. She said it should be fast, unless he wanted to make it slow. Slow and sweet, she said, a beautiful pain for his beautiful bird. Oh God, Andy, I was terrified.”

  “Jesus, Faye.” My fingers stopped moving until she wriggled against them.

  “Please don’t stop.”

  “Sorry.”

  “He made it slow, really slow, and it hurt. It hurt really bad, even worse than I’d expected. He pushed it through so slowly that I howled, and I cried until I choked, and again they called me a baby. Putting the ring in was easy, it was the needle that hurt. He was so pleased with himself. Beautiful, he said, how beautiful you look, my perfect bird.”

  “And then?”

  “And then he did the other.”

  A tear spilled, just one lonely tear, and it twisted me up. I held her so tight, and her hands moved from her thighs, back around my waist, and she pressed her face to my neck, and it was so fucking intimate that I could hardly fucking breathe.

  “Listen to me. I will never, ever let someone hurt you like that again, Faye, I swear to fucking God. If Vincent Blackthorne comes anywhere near you, he’ll fucking regret it.”

  She smiled, but shook her head. “You don’t understand,” she said.

  And there we were a fucking gain. “Everyone keeps telling me I don’t understand, but I understand it perfectly fucking clearly. He’s a cunt, and you were so into him, so fooled by him, you just couldn’t see it.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Definitely.”

  “I liked it,” she whispered. “It makes me feel sick, but I liked it, afterwards, I mean. He made it feel beautiful afterwards. He was so proud.”

  “I’ll fucking bet he was.”

  Her eyes were glistening with tears. “I promise you, he was. It’s hard to appreciate, I know, but loving him was intense, and mostly it was beautiful.”

  “So why are you here? If it was so beautiful? What did he do to you, Faye?” I went in for the kill, but her sharing streak was done. She stiffened, and moved her hand down to grip my wrist.

  “Make me come,” she hissed. “Please.”

  Her grip was demanding, needy.

  “I’ll make you come,” I said, and it took all of the strength in me not to give in to the beast and lose my shit, not to grab her fucking phone and call that fucking cunt and tear him a new fucking asshole. No, I wouldn’t phone him, I’d find him. I’d find the sick, twisted sack of shit and I’d show him what I thought of him. I’d give him exactly what was coming to him for everything he’d done to her, taken from her, taken from us.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Please, Andy, make me come.”

 
I was back with her, back in the room, forcing the venom away where she couldn’t see it. I lifted myself from the bed, taking her with me. So naturally she dropped her feet to the floor and turned to me, so naturally I held her and kissed her pretty mouth before I lowered her back onto the mattress. I pushed her thighs apart, and knelt between them, and she didn’t utter a sound as I pulled those filthy silver rings apart, so gently but so firmly, with my teeth gritted and my hackles raised.

  I took her hand and pulled her to her feet, and I marched her out of there, straight to the bathroom where I lifted the toilet lid and dropped those rings in her open palm. She looked at me and her eyes were glistening, heavy with secrets and pain in a way that choked the air out of me.

  She dropped them into the toilet without hesitation, without a word, without so much as a sound, and I pressed the flush and sent those seedy little rings right where they belonged. We stood watching the water take them away, her head against my shoulder and my arms around her waist and there were no words needed. No words that would have cut it.

  She was deep in thought when I coaxed her back to bed, following meekly with dainty little steps. I pulled back the bedcovers and welcomed her inside, and then I made her come, as promised.

  It was slow and tender, my mouth guiding her to orgasm with absolute concentration, absolute care, and when she crested it was beautiful, her fingers against my scalp, kneading but not demanding, her pussy fluttering, wet against my tongue in a way that knocked my senses. She came hard but quietly, a sweet expulsion of moans as her hips rose from the bed, and then she was spent, loose-limbed with ragged breath, her fingers tickling my scalp as I kissed my way down her thigh.

  My cock was hard, but I ignored it completely, climbing alongside her and holding her close, my legs hooked around hers, my arm around her waist. She wriggled back against me, and she sighed, wrapping herself so totally in my arms that my face was pressed to her hair, and her breath was hot on my skin.

  And then she went to sleep.

  But I didn’t.

  I didn’t sleep a fucking wink.

  ***

  Faye was quiet the next morning. We both were.