Rich Promise

by Ashe Barker

He smiles. “So sedate, so calm, so very dignified. I think we need to loosen you up a bit, my sweet slut. While you were busy inspecting the toys I left out for you, did you think to check under the bed?”

  “No, Sir. Should I have?”

  He shrugs. “No matter. If you had, you’d have spotted the spreader bar. You’ll find out all about it soon enough, though. Shall we start?”

  “Yes, Sir. I’m ready.”

  “Oh, you think so, do you? You’ll be a great deal readier by the time I’m through with you.” He swings his long legs to the floor and drops the towel. He strides over to the padded ottoman below the window to retrieve his jeans from the pile of his clothing discarded there. He must have come in here, dumped his toys and undressed before coming through to join me in the shower. He steps back into the jeans. Pulling them up, he fastens the zip but not the button on the waistband. He lifts his gaze to meet mine once more. His expression is serious now, deadly stern, and I know he means business. The transformation to pure Dom is swift and complete. My stomach churns, my pussy clenches. I’m loving it.

  Dan crouches to pull something from under the bed. It’s a metal bar, made of shiny chrome with heavy leather cuffs at either end. He drops it onto the bed behind me.

  “I’m going to tie your hands behind your back first. With the sweet silk rope, of course. Your wrists, please…”

  I don’t hesitate. Moving into a kneeling position I place my hands in the small of my back, and Dan quickly ties my wrists together. He tugs the restraint to check that it’s going to hold. He seems satisfied.

  “That’s good. If it feels painful at all, you’re to tell me. Got that?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Now, I need you to spread your knees as far apart as you can and lean forward.”

  I do as he told me, conscious that my bottom and pussy are on display for him. Which is, of course, the intention. Dan wraps one of the large leather cuffs attached to the spreader bar around my right leg, just above my knee. He fastens it securely, then turns to attach the other to my left leg. I’m effectively immobilized.

  “A bit wider still, I think. I’m going to extend the bar a little more. I need you to relax and let me open your legs fully. Okay?”

  “Yes, Sir.” I’m not convinced I can spread my thighs any wider, but Dan clearly has other ideas. I do my best to relax as he adjusts the bar to widen my stance to his satisfaction.

  He completes his preparations quickly and stands back to look at me. “Are you comfortable, Summer?”

  “I wouldn’t say comfortable exactly, Sir.”

  “I see. What would you say then?”

  “I feel exposed, Sir. And very nervous.”

  “That’s all good. And by the way, I meant to say while we were in the shower, how much I appreciate your attention to personal grooming. This is very pretty. Did you do this for me?”

  “Thank you, Sir. And yes, I did. I wanted to please you.”

  A couple of days ago I made a never-to-be forgotten visit to a beauty salon in Leeds for a Brazilian wax. It was a painful experience, embarrassing to the core, but afterwards I had to admit I rather liked the result. I’m pleased that Dan does too. I feel so clean and cool now, and utterly naked.

  “You do please me, Summer. Very much. Your bum’s rather pale, though, just now. I can soon do something about that. Would you like me to?”

  “Yes please, Sir.” God, when did I get so uninhibited? Who would have thought it?

  Dan for one. “And your pussy’s already wet, I think. Are you having slutty thoughts so soon, Summer?”

  “I’m not sure. Perhaps. Is that all right, Sir?”

  “I guess we’ll have to put up with it, because you really can’t help yourself, can you? So, am I right? Are you wet?”

  “I think so, Sir. Probably.”

  “Maybe I should check.”

  I have no opportunity to reply, though my response would have been along the lines of ‘please do feel free’. And Dan does most certainly feel free. He plunges three fingers into my cunt, curling them inside me to caress my G-spot unerringly. It’s intense and very accurate, my body spread out and held in place for him to explore and use as he likes. I’m not sure which is the more erotic—the touch of his fingers, filling me, stretching me, or the knowledge that I’m effectively helpless and totally vulnerable to whatever he chooses to do.

  “Thought so, dripping wet and beautifully tight. Would you like me to fuck you again, slut?”

  “Yes, Sir, I would like that. Very much.”

  “Yes, I can tell. All in good time. First, I have a little treat for you.”

  He pulls his fingers from my body and reaches across me to take the small glass bottle from beside the bed. “Just a little at first, I think, around your pretty lips. I’m a nice guy, and this is your first time, so I’ll give you a few minutes to get used to how it feels before I spread it on your clit too. Now, that will make you squeal.”

  The sound of the oil splashing inside the bottle tells me it’s almost time. The faint click as he drops the cap onto the bedside table tells me it’s now.

  Dan shifts his body so he’s facing my bum, and slips his right arm around my waist. He holds the bottle in his left hand, and I hear the liquid slop about again as he turns it upside down. This time I assume he’s using his finger as the stopper. He uses the fingers of his right hand to part my pussy lips, and smears the oil along them. It’s both hot and cold at the same time, a curious sensation of intense heat that warms but doesn’t burn—not quite—spreading quickly as Dan works the oil into my delicate skin. He pauses, I hear the sloshing of the liquid again and concentrate on not moving as he applies more of it to my pussy lips.

  He places the bottle back on the bedside table and seems to be satisfied for now. My pussy feels to be on fire, the sensation not quite painful but still intense and uncomfortable. I can’t suppress a small whimper as the oil seeps into my tender, sensitive tissues.

  “You’ll soon get used to it. How does this feel?” Dan draws his fingers along my throbbing cunt, the touch somehow exquisite and tormenting at the same time.

  I want him to rub me, hard, even though I know that might hurt. Will hurt.

  He knows exactly what’s happening for me. He increases the pressure of his fingers just a little, and I squeal. “Oh, God, Sir. That feels…”

  “Tell me what it feels like, Summer. Find a word.”

  “It feels hot. Really hot.”

  “Too hot?”

  “I…no, no, not too hot. Oh, Dan, Sir—I want you to rub me please. Could you press on harder?”

  “Like this?” He increases the pressure a little more, but it’s still not enough. I start to gyrate my hips, seeking even greater friction.

  “Mmm, I think you’re getting acclimatized. Now for your clit.”

  “No, Sir, I don’t think…”

  “Safe word or shut up, Summer. You know how this works by now.” Dan’s tone is curt, his words sharp.

  I stop my protests. I have no intention at all of using my safe word. He knows it. I know it.

  “I’m sorry, Sir. Please continue.”

  I manage to remain perfectly still as he re-applies the oil to his finger then spreads it slowly all over my swollen clit. He re-coats his fingertip for good measure, rubbing yet more of the sharp scented oil into the tender nub. My clit is throbbing, and Dan rolls it between his fingers mercilessly, every squeeze and tug and stroke heightening my awareness of the tingling, sizzling oil. Every nerve ending feels to be prickling with awareness. Dan’s touch is light, almost imperceptible now. He’s teasing me, drawing out my response. He’s going to make me beg. I know it. And I will.

  He draws his thumb slowly across the tip of my clit then angles his hand to scrape me with his thumbnail.

  “Oh God, oh, Dan. Please, I need…”

  “You need to remember your manners, my slut. Who are you talking to?” That chilly Dom tone, so soft, so stern. So utterly commanding.

&nb
sp; “Sorry, Sir.”

  “What is it you need, Summer? Tell me.” His voice has softened, and I moan my pleasure and relief as he slowly slips two fingers into my cunt.

  He finger-fucks me with long, leisurely strokes as I quiver and murmur my thanks. It’s wonderful, the sensation compelling and achingly tender. I want more, and start to thrust against his hand, using my inner muscles to squeeze around him.

  “Fuck me, please. Please fuck me, Sir.”

  “Soon. Perhaps. First, I want to taste this sweet, minty cunt.”

  Yes, yes, yes! I actually scream out loud when his tongue connects with my sensitive, pulsating clit. He closes his lips around it, sucking gently. I completely lose it, my orgasm is swift and powerful and all-consuming. My empty pussy is spasming wildly, my muscles now working of their own volition. I’m not sure if I have permission to come or not, but it hardly matters. I have no control at all over what’s happening as the waves of pleasure swirl and flow through me. I feel to be floating, weightless, all my concentration fixed on that sweet spot, my clit held firmly between his soft lips. As my orgasm starts to subside, Dan picks up the pace again, this time by flicking the end of my clit with his tongue. I’m momentarily poised, hovering on the brink of orgasm before I fall headlong into it. I descend into another screaming frenzy as my release seizes me again. Dan increases the suction, mercifully inserting two fingers into my pussy to rub my G-spot. My body is shaking, the intensity of sensation quite, quite indescribable now. I’m well beyond coherent thought, only conscious that I want him inside me. Now.

  “Fuck me, please. Please, fuck me, Sir…”

  “Since you ask so nicely, sweetheart, it will be my pleasure.”

  I’m still humming from my orgasm as he releases my legs from the leather cuffs and dumps the spreader bar onto the carpet. The faint rustle of clothing is followed by the snap of the condom foil. I’m vaguely puzzled, I thought we were past all that, but I don’t have the energy to ask. Later perhaps…

  Dan takes my hips between his palms and pushes me onto my back. My hands are still tied behind my back, but it’s not uncomfortable as he pulls a couple of pillows down and stuffs them under my shoulders. He places his palms on the insides of my knees, spreading my legs again, then he pushes them up toward my chest. His cock is positioned at my entrance, and he drives forward.

  He’s buried inside me, balls deep, and I’m shivering with raw need. “Hard. Fuck me hard, Sir. Please, please…”

  “Happy to oblige, little slut. How’s this?”

  Three hard, sharp plunges drive my body right back to the brink of orgasm, where he manages to hold me for the next little while. He slows his thrusts, despite my desperate pleas, expertly keeping me on the point of losing control again.

  “I need to come. Please, Sir.”

  “You will. When I’m ready.” His thumb is again on my clit, circling and caressing, his touch gentle now.

  The minty burn is cooling, the feeling settling into one of warmth, a sensuous tingle still exciting and tantalizing. I groan, lifting my hips for his greater penetration.

  “Greedy sub. You want harder now?”

  “Yes, harder. Please, Sir.”

  Dan continues to stroke my clit with his right hand as he tangles the fingers of his left in my hair. He picks up the pace, his cock sinking into me with long, hard strokes. It’s fast now, demanding, his rhythm relentless. My body spasms again as I pass the point of no return. This time, though, I’m not alone. Dan’s breath hitches as he hurtles toward his own climax. His shout of “fuck, fuck, fuck” just before he plunges deep and holds the position, tells me he’s there. We climax together this time, his cock jerking hard as his semen pumps out to fill the condom.

  Dan continues to support his weight on one arm as he uses the other to reach under me. He loosens the rope restraining my wrists and I’m free. I wrap my arms around him and cling on as he rolls onto his back. I don’t want us to separate, I could stay joined like this for ever.

  “Could you develop a taste for peppermint, do you think?” His voice is a low, sexy rumble as he murmurs the words into my ear.

  “I expect I could, Sir. With practice.”

  “I daresay you’ll get plenty of practice, love. Now, that’s sorted out, our most urgent needs, what about food? Do you have anything to eat here?”

  “I was going to settle for something simple. Beans on toast maybe…” I’m feeling too lazy, too sated to move. Certainly I don’t feel like cooking. I will stir myself though, if I have to.

  “Shall we eat out? Or raid Grace’s larder? A takeaway perhaps?” Ordering a takeaway sounds favorite to me.

  “Grace invited me to eat with her…”

  “What are you doing here then? Not that I’m complaining exactly.” His palm circles my bum possessively as I nestle closer.

  “I wanted to settle in, get to know my new flat. I can’t do that if I spend all my time over at your brother’s house.”

  “Fair enough. Did Grace mention what she was cooking?”

  “Well, no. I didn’t ask.”

  “Right, you get on the phone to her now and find out. We’re either joining her or ordering a takeaway. Unless you fancy going out, that is?”

  “No, Sir, I’d prefer to stay in, I think.”

  “Good.” He lifts me off him and pats my bum to signal I should be on my way. His stomach will not wait.

  A quick conversation establishes that Grace has nothing special planned as it was just to be her eating alone tonight. I feel a pang of guilt. I hadn’t realized that when I’d politely declined her offer of a meal. But I pass that information on to Dan, who announces that it’s to be a toss-up between pizza or a curry. He gestures to me to invite Grace to join us. She’s happy to, and we settle on pizza. I leave Dan to sort out the ordering from Pizza Hut as I head back into the bathroom to wash off the residual dregs of peppermint.

  “Don’t use water—just stirs it all up again. Try baby lotion. That sometimes works.” Dan’s voice follows me as I leave the room.

  Now he tells me.

  Chapter Two

  I was sorry to wave Dan off this morning, but tomorrow’s Friday and I’m driving up to Keswick to spend the weekend with him. I hug myself. I’m so excited. This feels just so incredible. Dan’s wonderful. I’m absolutely and totally in love.

  Yesterday evening we pigged out on pizza in my flat. Grace joined us, and had the presence of mind to bring a tub of ice cream with her to round off the meal. We laughed, we ate, we admired my new home. Grace is almost as pleased with it as I am—she takes enormous pride in the holiday lets which she tends to take charge of whether they’re part of Black Combe or Greystones. It’s an informal arrangement, as so much seems to be in the inner sanctum of Darke Associates, but it works and I make a mental note not to trample in that part of the business. Ain’t broke, don’t mend it.

  Nathan has no objections to me returning on Monday, so Dan and I are planning a long weekend together. Dan has to work, but he’s on call at the animal park so may not be busy. Even if he does need to go there, I’ll go with him. He’s promised to introduce me to his lemurs. As well as attending to the lions, tigers and all the rest, Dan is leading a research project on the breeding habits of different species of lemur. Nathan thinks it’s hilarious, watching rodents bonking the whole time and when you’ve seen one lemur, you’ve seen them all. He made a point of explaining all this to us when we wandered over to Black Combe for breakfast this morning.

  Dan pointed out, I suspect not for the first time, that lemurs are primates not rodents, and that each species is distinctive. Nathan just grinned over his coffee mug and turned his attention to Rosie’s morning chatter. Breakfast is a noisy, hectic time here, everyone rushing about, getting ready for the day. Weekends are a little more sedate, but there’s not much in it. At one time I would have hated this. I would have found the whole frantic bustling pandemonium quite unbearable. But I’m at ease, happy to just sit quietly myself and let the mayhe
m happen around me.

  I nibbled my toast, enjoyed my tea and listened to Dan and Nathan sparring with each other, Eva acting as half-hearted referee. I think she finds Nathan’s directness a bit daunting on occasions, but he clearly adores her, so if she appears in the least bit distressed by his antics he stops immediately. Dan really doesn’t need her support. He’s more than capable of taking on Nathan Darke—or Tom, if need be. And I suspect he can manage Nick Hardisty too. He can certainly manage me. So the banter was hurled backwards and forwards across the breakfast table, everyone happy and laughing. Like I always imagined a family should be.

  Except, this isn’t a family. Not really. As far as I know, the only person in this noisy group who is actually related to more than one of the others is baby Isabella. Nathan and Dan are step-brothers, Rosie was adopted by Nathan a few years ago. Grace is an employee, despite Rosie’s insistence on calling her ‘nana’. I always used to tell myself that blood is thicker than water, and this sentiment is what dragged me back to my mother’s house in Barrow time and time again. Now, I’m not so sure. Blood is important, but relationships are based on more than that. Friendship, companionship, love—these are earned. They need to be nourished and nurtured, and they grow over time, whatever their roots. The inhabitants of Black Combe would certainly think so. And blood is no guarantee of loyalty or decency or caring. I learned this the hard way, but now I’m even more determined than ever to bring my sisters here to share this haven with me.

  My return to Barrow seems less daunting now, as I at last start to gain some perspective on my mother’s role in my life. I don’t need to allow her to continue to influence and affect me. I can choose something different. I wonder if Dan would come with me to Barrow? It’s conveniently close to his zoo. We could go there. I could ask him.

  But I won’t. There’s no reason for him ever to find out about Barrow. He need never meet my mother, never see that hateful little house. It’s better that way.

  * * * *

  I leave Black Combe at around four o’clock to drive up to Keswick. Nathan has lent me his Discovery for the trip. Nathan seemed very fierce and quite daunting when I first encountered him, but under the outer shell lurks a very, very soft center. And I’ve been doing a good job. I’ve earned a bit of time off.