Not yet, you impatient boy.
She purred into his ear, making him stiffen his spine and then squirm so she felt like the rider of an erotic bucking bronco, and sat up again, ripping off the tie with a flourish and casting it aside.
“Oh, this shirt is lovely,” she commented, running her hands over the luxurious heavy cotton. “Thomas Pink?”
“Yeah,” said Jeremy under his breath, too aroused to speak further.
“Oops.” Laura smiled as the buttons pinged and flew around the room. “I’m so clumsy. But I just had to see what was underneath.”
His chest, smooth, broad and hairless, was rising and falling rather rapidly beneath her palm. She laid an ear to his rib cage and listened to the exaggerated tattoo of his heart.
“I can hear your heartbeat,” she told him. “It’s quite fast. I wonder why.”
“Because you—oh God.” She had a hand over his mountainous crotch now, and she was squeezing it, bunching the fabric in a strong fist.
“I think somebody is having naughty thoughts. Am I right, Jeremy? What naughty thoughts are you having, you bad boy? What do you want me to do to you?”
“Wha-whatever you want,” he whimpered, urgent hands reaching for Laura’s hair, but she brushed them away and tutted.
“Don’t touch me, Jeremy. I don’t want you to put your grubby hands on me. In fact…” She hopped off her willing victim and retrieved the tie, then wound it around his compliant wrists and fastened them behind his head with a very convincing reef knot. “Mmm, now, that’s how I like you.” She began to strip off, beginning with her necklace and shoes, keeping her gaze fixed on Jeremy’s lust-glazed brown eyes.
“In my room, Jeremy, you follow my rules. That’s fair, isn’t it? And one of those rules is that you don’t touch me unless I give you permission. Hmm. I wonder if I should tie your ankles too. I think I might. You know, Rocky only let me do this to him once. He was curious, I think. Submission isn’t really his thing. God, he looked amazing, though, especially with the gag. Shall I gag you? Maybe another time. I like to hear your pathetic little yelps. They are music to my ears. I’m going to make you beg, Jeremy, and then I’m going to make you come like you’ve never come before. What do you think of that?”
She paused in her undressing, down to her bra, knickers and hold-up stockings, and posed with a hand on her hip.
Jeremy moaned his reply, swivelling his hips frantically in an effort to produce maximum friction between his underwear and his cock. Not being able to touch it or set it free was torture of the dreamiest kind, and Laura knew it.
“Do you like my body, Jeremy?” she asked him, performing a series of poses, like a lewd ballerina going through her paces. She thrust out her chest, bent over with her legs spread so that her face peered through her thighs, then she stood and thrust one hand down her knickers, gyrating gently and licking her lips as Jeremy watched with bulging eyes. “It takes a lot of work to keep it in this condition. I have a personal gym next door and I swim every day. I also make sure I have as much sex as possible. I like to take the lead, you see, because it burns more calories. These thighs are like steel, Jeremy.” She squeezed them together, trapping her hand between eager sex lips. “And so are my buttocks. I make sure my glutes get plenty of toning. Do you?”
Jeremy’s mouth opened and closed.
“I’ll tone them for you, Jeremy. I’ll give them a good workout if you like. I’ve a lovely dildo that the boys go mad for. I’ll introduce you sometime.”
“Oh God, you’re evil,” he wailed. “Please take my cock out. Please.”
“All in good time,” she cautioned, leaning over him so that her breasts in their sheer gauze bra almost grazed his face. “You don’t get to give the orders here, Jeremy. That’s my job. Now.” She unclipped her bra and let her nipples drift along Jeremy’s quivering lips. “Suck these for me, would you? Nice and hard. A little appetiser for you.”
Jeremy ran his tongue around the firm pink buds until Laura knew they were as stiff and tingly as they could be, then she withdrew them and turned around to present him with her firm bottom in its filmy black casing.
“Can you take these off with your teeth? I bet you could.”
It took him several attempts, but eventually the elastic made its slow progress over the curve of Laura’s bum until the knickers rested at the top of her thighs.
“That’s it. Good boy,” she approved, removing them along with the stockings, then standing naked by his side. “You can do a lot with your mouth, can’t you, Jeremy?”
She took a long, greedy look at him, his upper half naked and bound at the wrists while from the waist down he was dressed for a day at the office—albeit an exceptionally arousing one.
“Please…fuck me, Laura. Please,” he begged.
“Jeremy, you will need to learn some patience,” she scolded. “I like to hear you beg, but if you talk without permission again I’m going to whip your arse, do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, causing Laura to wonder if the phrase had ever crossed his lips before.
“Poor lamb,” she crooned, settling onto the couch with her knees on either side of Jeremy’s face, lowering her shaved pussy towards his mouth, enjoying the look in his eye as he realised what was expected of him. “You’ll get your mind-blowing orgasm, pet. But first, I want mine. And it had better be a good one, Jeremy, or I might just keep you rock hard and tied up all night.”
Her wet sex landed gently but firmly on Jeremy’s mouth, which he stretched wide in anticipation of his task. Laura sighed with approval of the deep, luscious strokes her lover began to apply with eager tongue, rocking softly above him, making sure her clit got the majority of the attention. She watched his face turn shiny with exertion and her juices, felt the hard knot at her centre begin to unfurl and spread fronds of pleasure outward to all the farthest points of her body.
“That’s good, Jeremy, good, yes,” she instructed throatily. “I’ll reward you for this. Oh, yes.” His eyes were flickering, half-demented. He looked lost and a little bit scared. She smiled widely, enraptured with her find, filled with liquid, lascivious ecstasy and came hard into his mouth, grinding her pubic bone against him until the melting flood was past.
“Gorgeous,” she said, flopping down happily on top of him, her head on his chest. “That was gorgeous. Gosh, you’re uncomfortable to lie on, though. So lumpy. I suppose I ought to do something about that.”
Lazily she unbuttoned his fly and pushed the trousers down to midthigh, repeating the action with his pants so that his legs were effectively hobbled together, even though the long-imprisoned cock was now free and proud in the open air.
Laura clambered around so that she faced this desperado full-on, leaving Jeremy the view of her recently-licked-out pussy to admire while she dealt him her tender mercies.
“Quite a nice size,” she said dispassionately, wrapping tight, pinchy fingers around its girth. “That might feel good inside. It’s certainly not the worst I’ve seen. Perhaps I’ll take a photo of it and put it on the internet—Rate My Cock. See what the other girls think.”
“Ohhh,” moaned Jeremy, and she turned to look at him with vivid interest.
“Humiliation turns you on, does it? I knew I’d find your secret spot soon enough. Not pain, but humiliation. Well, I can give you that, pet. Plenty of it. Now, then.”
She began to knead the hard flesh, pressing and experimenting with it, looking for reactions. Her other hand wandered down to his tight balls and manhandled them lovingly while she played with his cock, amusing herself by stretching and pulling it into odd shapes until Jeremy began to mewl.
“Sorry, pet. I have a sadistic streak. I’ll try not to let it get out of control.” She settled into a hard, fast rhythm, making it clear she expected him to come quickly and without too much effort on her part. “You need this, don’t you?” She pinched the base of his shaft between thumb and forefinger while her other hand sped up and down in a blur.
/> “You’re…so…rough,” gasped Jeremy. “Oh.”
“You need it rough, you little slut. Take it and be grateful. Next time I’ll film you and all the girls in the world can watch you bitching and crying while I wank you. You are getting pussy whipped, pet, and don’t you forget it. Are you coming, Jeremy? Are you ready?”
“Oh fuck. I’m coming.” he exclaimed on a yelp.
Laura shifted her face so as to avoid the impending fountain, then watched it spurt all over Jeremy’s belly and pool in his navel while he writhed and sobbed and said, “Thank you, ma’am,” over and over again.
“There,” she soothed, stroking his brow and pressing her thumb into the blurry tears. “I’ve got you, pet. I’ve got you.”
Once he was untied and they sat together, naked, on the couch with another drink, he asked, “Does it work the other way round?”
“What? What do you mean? Do I let you top me? No. No, I don’t.”
“No, not that. Anyway, I wouldn’t want to. I like it the way it is. That was the most sensational orgasm of my life. You are incredible.”
“I know. So what did you mean?”
“I meant, if you keep your men away from Daddy, does he keep his women away from you?”
“Daddy? Women? I don’t think he ever brings women home.”
“So one of the most powerful men in town lives like a monk? I don’t see it somehow.”
“Ugh, please don’t ask me to speculate on my father’s sex life.”
“Sorry. Just couldn’t help wondering if you had a female role model in your life. You’re an unusual girl.”
“No. I see Mummy for a fortnight every summer. She’s been in Marbella since I was six. I wouldn’t call her a role model.”
“Oh. Was that upsetting for you? When she left?”
Laura shrugged. “Spare me the therapy, Jeremy. I’ve got everything I want.”
“Good. Except Rocky.”
“Mention his name again, Weill, and I’ll…”
“Okay. Sore point, obviously.”
“I’ll give you a sore point.”
“Is that a promise?”
Smiling craftily, Laura put down her drink and straddled Jeremy’s lap, manhandling his cock back into full flagpole stiffness.
“You bet it is, my little cub.”
Meanwhile, on the beach, beneath a gibbous moon that silvered the golden sands, Rocky and Flipp lay in a close embrace, lips fused, legs locked, entwined in every place their clothes allowed.
Rocky had a key to one of the huts where deck chairs and the like were stored, and he had dragged out a white plastic sunbed, which, while uncomfortable, at least kept the sand out of their crevices.
“Perhaps we should go inside the hut,” Rocky muttered. “Where no one can see us.”
“Spiders. Cobwebs.” Flipp shuddered. “No one can see us here, not from the promenade. We’re right under the wall.”
“I can’t believe a girl like you is afraid of spiders,” Rocky marvelled. “I thought you were made of tougher stuff. I thought you had spunk.”
“No, that’s you,” snorted Flipp. “Speaking of which—are there many mini-yous walking around town?”
“If you start listening to Laura, you’ll go mad. She’s jealous, love, and she’s a controlling bitch who can’t let anything go. She was lying. I don’t have any kids.”
“As far as you know.”
“As far as Mr. Durex knows.”
“Okay. Well, I don’t either. Just to reassure you.” Rocky snuffled into her hair, pulling her tighter. “Thanks for telling me.” He kissed her neck and she sighed into the cool night air. “God, I want you. Come into the hut.”
Chapter Six
Michelle knew in her heart that Councillor Trewin was not an especially sophisticated man, but she knew Cordwainer’s tastes better, so she was confident that the platter of antipasti and bottle of good Italian white wine would make the meeting a more pleasurable experience for him. Trewin would probably hanker after crisps and sausage rolls, but it was too bad. He would just have to hanker.
“I won’t be back tonight,” she told her chef de partie, who was busy sweating over the grill. “You’ll be able to clear up all right, won’t you?”
“Of course,” he muttered distractedly. “No problem.”
“Table fifteen, two lemon soles, two surf and turf,” shouted another voice.
It was nine o’clock and the Fairhaven Restaurant probably wouldn’t get many more customers now. She could trust her chef to take care of the stragglers while she performed her own waitressing task upstairs. She took the tray and the bottle in its cooler and headed for the back stairs.
While the bar and restaurant still functioned, the guesthouse part of the Fairhaven was closed for redecoration and the smell of wet paint and turpentine lingered about the stairwell as Michelle climbed to the top floor.
She knocked on the door and heard Cordwainer’s beloved tones bid her enter. She put down the tray and the bottle on the small table that stood between her two owners and curtsied formally to both.
“Thank you, Miss Object,” murmured Cordwainer.
“Eh, very nice, but a bottle of beer and a bacon sandwich would have done, love,” said Councillor Trewin.
Michelle, eyes lowered as required, said, “I apologise if my service does not please you.”
“What? Eh, no, it does. It does. Carry on.”
“You may change behind the screen,” said Cordwainer, indicating a sectioned-off corner of the room. Michelle excused herself from their presence, finding a selection of fetishwear laid out on a chair behind the screen. While she took off her trim skirt suit and oiled and talced her naked body, snippets of the men’s conversation drifted over to her.
“So the meeting was productive?”
Michelle strapped herself into the shiny leather harness that crisscrossed her body, showing her breasts and bottom cunningly framed but fully exposed, letting the final strap dangle between her arse cheeks, leaving that element of her costume till last.
“Very, Charles, very much so. Everything signed and sealed now, in terms of planning permissions. We just need to sort out the building contract between us, and it’s all systems go.”
Michelle rolled glossy latex stockings up her legs, covering them up to midthigh, snapping them onto the handy harness clips.
“How did you deal with the environmentalists? Surely there will be trouble when the Gazette gets hold of it?”
“That tame scientist I told you about—he got his people to say that there was nothing unique or irreplaceable about the reserve. It’ll get its status of special scientific interest revoked in the next month or so.”
“Good. It’s always made me gnash my teeth somewhat to see such prime real estate given over to coots and moorhens. If the coots and moorhens want to live there, they can pay for the privilege, like everyone else.”
Trewin and Cordwainer chuckled companionably while Michelle, fingers frozen on her suspender clips, shook her head, thinking she must have mistaken the inference she had drawn from those last words. They couldn’t mean to parcel up the nature reserve at the western sweep of the bay and build on it. They just couldn’t. Surely. She decided she must have got the wrong end of the stick and carried on with her dressing, pushing her feet into ridiculously high heels and replacing her workaday collar with the leather-covered steel version.
“Building permissions are all in place,” Trewin repeated. “The licenses for the supercasino and the alcohol will be granted next week, I assume. I’ll be there anyway. I’ve got most of the others on side, apart from batty Barbara. We’ll work on her. What is this stuff?”
“Artichoke. Don’t you like it?” Cordwainer raised his voice. “Are you prepared, Miss Object?”
“One moment, sir,” she answered, flustered, picking up the nipple clamps he expected her to apply by herself.
“I’m putting on my watch timer. You will receive one stroke of the cane for each minute you keep
us waiting.”
Her fingers trembled as the clips bit into her tender nipples. It was never a good idea to rush this. She would just have to put up with whatever penalty her masters decided to exact.
“I don’t dislike them. Just don’t understand them. What are they for? What’s wrong with a pickled egg, for God’s sake?”
“I certainly shan’t be serving pickled eggs in my new establishment. I envisage the full Las Vegas experience—obscenely luxurious in a way that appeals to high rollers and lowlives alike. Goldsands will finally be on the map.”
Michelle, wincing at the clamps’ sharp teeth, performed the finishing touches to her toilette. She passed the final harness strap between her thighs, fitting it neatly into her sex lips and the cleft of her buttocks. Its roughened leather rubbed her clit unforgivingly when she moved, sparking it into vivid life. The first time Cordwainer had made her wear this—oh, such a long time ago it seemed now, when her self-control was terrible—she had come three times in the course of serving his friends. He had had her whipped, hard, over the dining table and then taken by all four of them in a row. Her eyes misted with nostalgia and she stepped out from behind the screen.
“Four minutes, Miss Object,” said Cordwainer, glancing at her over the rim of his wineglass. “Four strokes of the cane. I gather you want to practise your caning technique, Trewin? Perhaps you could do the honours.”
“Glad to. Fetch the cane, missy, and bring it to me between your teeth. No, on your knees, please.”
Michelle crawled to the sideboard where a selection of spanking and flogging implements reclined, picked up the length of cruel rattan between her teeth and returned with it to Councillor Trewin, knees chafing against the cheap acrylic carpet.
He took it from her and stood, bending it contemplatively.
“Stand and touch your toes,” he ordered. Michelle’s least favourite position, she reflected ruefully, a devil to sustain, especially when her bottom burned with the heat of a blast furnace. Trewin was learning a lot from his sadistic mentor.
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