by Dae, Harlem
She grinned. “I know.”
Once again she took me deep. I groaned, supressed the urge to forge into her throat, and stared at the TV. The weather forecast was showing.
I stared unseeing, capturing control of my build to climax. I wanted it to simmer, didn’t want to come too soon and look like a twerp. But fuck, she was exploring behind my balls, deft little touches in places only I’d touched before. Helen had never ventured that far—well, to be fair, she hadn’t often headed down between my legs. Sucking dick hadn’t been her thing.
Zara raised her head. “Victor,” she said, almost in a whisper. “I think you’re ready.”
I was hot and hard, my breaths were coming quick, and my body felt loose but tight all at the same time. I watched, almost in a daze as she walked to her handbag, pulled out a tube of lube and then took the plug from the table. She sat back between my legs.
I felt so rude, so exposed. Legs wide apart, cock straining upwards, balls and arsehole on show. But my need to have her touching me again, adoring my cock, overruled the need to clamp shut. It was all I could do not to grab her hand and make her wank me to orgasm.
She slithered up my body, her soft sweater like silk on my cock and abdomen.
“Shh, close your eyes, just feel,” she whispered onto my lips. “One sense is enough this first time.”
She kissed each of my eyelids in turn, and reflexively I shut them.
What the hell was I doing? A blowjob was all well and good, but…
The thought was strong, but not strong enough to make me protest. I realised that I really did trust Zara to do this. I’d seen her do it to Carlos, not gently, admittedly, but she did seem to have a pretty good idea of what it was all about.
But did I want it? Did I want that plug up my arse?
She licked my cock, slipped a cool, lubed finger over my puckered hole, turned a slow circle then stroked the skin between my sac and arsehole.
I groaned, deep and guttural. I didn’t want her finger, that was too intimate, I wanted the plug. But still, being touched there, it had me burning with need.
Gripping the sofa with one hand, I clenched the other into a fist. Heat was building in my balls, but it wasn’t just spreading to my cock, it was also radiating backwards, into my arse.
“You taste so good,” Zara murmured, “and you feel amazing, Victor. I want to be inside you, be part of you, where the darkest corner of your soul is yet to be found.”
She slid a finger into my arse, slowly, firmly, until her knuckles buffeted my bum cheeks.
Another groan escaped me, the absolute invasion pushing my breath out in one long, outward pant. I hadn’t thought I wanted that, but now I really bloody well did.
“Just here,” she said, moving her finger. “It will feel good just here.”
“Oh, God!” My legs jerked, my spine twitched. What the fuck was she doing? A sudden, furious whack of desire for more blasted through me. She’d done something, touched somewhere deep in my back passage that had never really been touched before and it felt fucking amazing.
I tore open my eyes. She was sitting staring at my face. One hand on my right knee, keeping my thighs wide, the other lost between my legs.
“You like that?” A knowing smile tickled her lips.
I went to speak, but as I did she brushed that damn sensitive place deep inside me again. No words formed. I tried to lift my arm, but my muscles felt weak and my wrist hung limply. All I could do was press my pelvis down, shift on her finger and hope for another probing caress.
“I think you’re ready.”
She withdrew and my hole clenched shut, my dick bobbed. I went to grab it.
“Ah, ah, no, no. That’s mine.” She batted my hand away and fisted my dick with the hand that had been on my knee. “I’m in charge, remember. You have to just lie back and enjoy.”
I was so turned on. New needs careened through me, as did anxiety.
“Relax,” she whispered. “Lie back and relax, you look like you’ll give yourself a damn heart attack otherwise.”
“Fucking hell.” I dropped back on the sofa, unaware of how far forwards I’d sprung, and how tense my abdominal muscles had been.
“That’s it,” she soothed. “Trust me.”
I pressed my lips together, held my breath, and tried to ignore the whoosh of my rapid heartbeats thundering through my ears.
“I said, relax,” Zara said, her breath washing over my belly.
She gave my cock a few long, languid strokes, slipping her finger into my slit as she did so.
“Oh, yes,” I said appreciatively. “That’s it.”
Coolness spread on my anus, then my hole was stretching, tender and slow.
“Bear down,” she ordered. “Victor, let the plug in.”
I did as she’d asked, surrendering my most private place to her. My legs shook, my body felt on fire, every nerve centred on the sensations in my arse.
“You’re doing so well,” she said, unrelenting in her invasion.
“God, is it nearly in?” I gasped. The stretch was turning to a burn. How much wider did the damn thing get? I squirmed, trying to get away from the nip of pain.
She pressed harder. “Nearly there, shh, nearly there.” She dipped her head, took my cock into her mouth.
Slotting my hands into her hair, I reared my hips and sank as far as I could go.
She tunnelled the plug deep, deeper still.
I cried out.
It popped in and my anus clamped tight, the wings keeping it from burying in my body completely.
Zara raised her head, released my cock and we both stilled.
“It’s in,” she said. Her eyes were full of victory, those damn big pupils of hers as wide as they could go.
I nodded, just a little, and blew out a breath.
“Does it feel good?” She tipped her head.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Only think so?”
Words weren’t coming so well, my brain fudging as all energies went to examining the wedge of rubber in my arse.
“I think if feels better than you ever imagined.” She moved up me again, settling her belly over my cock. “It’s pressing your prostate and making you want to ride to conclusion, isn’t it?”
“I…”
“Answer your Mistress.” She bit my nipple. Hard
“Ow, fucking hell.” I jerked and then groaned as the plug shifted.
She smiled, stood, and stared down at me lying naked and plugged on my sofa.
“Get up,” she said, whisking off her jumper. She wore no bra.
“What?”
“Get up. I want you to fuck me.”
“Jesus, really? Now? With this in?”
She laughed, a high-pitched giggle. “Victor, that was just foreplay, to make the main event more fun for you. Now get up.” She shoved at her jeans. They were tight, it appeared a struggle. When they were off and her knickers, too, she stared at me, hands on hips. “Bloody hell, Victor, do you really want me to paddle your arse the very first time you have a plug in? Get the fuck up.”
Paddle my arse?
Gingerly I stood, each movement shifting the plug, making me want to groan, jack my dick, catch my breath.
Zara reached for the lube, offered it to me. “Here, lube me up.”
“What?”
A sudden, sharp strike razored across my cheek. Zara had slapped me, really fucking hard.
“What? Is that how you speak to your Mistress?” She caught my chin and squeezed. “You don’t say what when I order you to lube me up, you say, ‘Yes, Mistress, of course, Mistress’, and then you just fucking do it, all right?”
Pain shot across my face, and my arse tensed so tight my knees weakened. A surge of blood to my cock made it bob up against my belly. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Good, now don’t forget that in future.”
I paused.
She raised her eyebrows.
“Yes, Mistress.”
She release
d my chin, thrust the lube at me. “Do it now. All this arse play has left me in need of some myself.”
The word ‘what’ danced in my mouth. “You want me to…?”
“Fuck my arse, yes.” She climbed onto the sofa, bum in the air, at the perfect height for my cock.
I stared at the cleft of her bottom, the shadow leading to her arsehole and the lips of her pussy just peeking out.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Victor.” She twisted to look at me. “Please don’t tell me you’ve never fucked a woman’s arse before.”
“Of course I have, Mistress.” I swallowed and squirted a blob of clear lube onto my fingers. “Loads of times.”
“Good, then get on with it.” She began to fret her clit, her shoulder shifting, her hair falling, two curtains. “There’s a condom in the pocket of my jeans. Make sure you use it.”
I stared at the lube, looked down at the crumpled, discarded jeans. I wiped the lube on my leg, carefully stooped, retrieved the condom then rolled it on. With the lube back on my fingertips, I stroked over Zara’s anus.
The plug was heavy in my back passage, and as I eased my finger into hers the sensation in my own body intensified.
“Oh, yes, more,” she gasped, rocking onto my finger.
I added another, fascinated to be feeling something new. Her rectum wasn’t the same as her pussy, it was more hollow, the sides satiny pillows, and the clamp of her hole, it would hold my cock as taut as an elastic band. So damn tight, it was noose-like.
Suddenly I was greedy to know how that would feel on my dick.
It seemed Zara was too.
“Fuck my arse,” she said. “Fuck my arse, and on each thrust, Victor, I command you to clench that plug so that you know I’m fucking you as much as you’re fucking me.”
I pulled out my fingers and positioned my sheathed cock at her tightly puckered entrance. “Yes, Mistress.”
“And give it to me good.”
“Yes…” I plunged in. “Mistress.”
“Ah, yes, fucking hell, yes, Victor, like that.” She released a long, happy wail, shunting backwards to impale herself more.
I would have liked to savour my first time tunnelling into an arse, but since I’d proclaimed to be an old hand at it, I didn’t feel I could. Instead I set up a fast, furious rhythm, matching the frenetic speed at which she was playing with her clit.
Each time I maxed out, the plug in my bum shifted and swept across my prostate. The sensation was amazing. More than amazing. It was going to make me come pretty soon.
Gripping her hips, I eased her onto my cock, stared down at the way her arsehole was stretched around my width. We had plenty of lube going on, but still her skin dragged, exposing a pretty pinkness on the backwards stroke. The sight was so horny. Nothing I’d seen before, or ever thought I would see.
I sped up. There was nothing gentle about our fucking now. We were both frantic, racing towards the finish line. Sweaty and grunting, we bashed against each other with animalistic wildness.
Cum boiled in my bollocks. My arse clenched. The tightness of Zara’s sweet little bottom had me about to burst.
“Oh, come with me, Victor,” she cried, “now.”
I didn’t need telling twice. With a roar of release that seemed to pour from every cell in my body, I spurted into the very depths of my Mistress.
She came, too, writhing, spasming, jerking through a long orgasm.
I kept shunting, even as my pinnacle faded, eking out every second of her release and watching fascinated as her arsehole contracted in sharp waves around my cock.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she panted, then finally released her clit and gripped the back of the sofa. “That was just what I needed.”
“Mmm, me too.” I withdrew, my dick seeming too big, even as it softened, to have ever fitted inside her small hole.
She turned and flopped onto the sofa, legs akimbo, breasts shifting as she fought for breath.
My heart rattled up against my ribcage. I took a deep breath, held it, willed the extra beats to go away.
They did.
I bent, kissed her head then walked to the bathroom, tugging off the condom as I went.
After removing the plug, washing it and setting it aside, I filled the sink, soaped up a flannel and headed back into the living room, soft white towel draped over my arm.
My cock was flaccid, my breathing normal as I carefully wiped Zara clean between her legs and over her bum. Tenderly I patted dry the skin, then set the cloth to one side and scooped her into my arms.
We lay, entwined, not speaking, just staring at the TV together. An old black-and-white movie came on, I’m not sure what, but with Zara in my arms I was content to allow the satiation of my orgasm float me into a doze and let everything else drift into the periphery.
Chapter Sixteen
So Victor did have it in him to be fucked, and he’d enjoyed it being so different from what he was used to, I’d bet my last quid on it. And as for him actually putting his cock up my… I don’t know where he’d learnt to do it with such a wonderful, furiously intense rhythm but he’d got it just right for me.
As I tried to rouse myself from a completely satisfying sleep, I rolled onto my side and wished… No, I didn’t wish he was here now, in my home, not in that way. More along the lines that I could have done with a wake-the-hell-up shag that would set me on the right track for the day. I normally fucked at night, had never woken beside one of my conquests before, having always made sure I tossed them out after tossing them off. The whole in-your-face-all-the-time scenario didn’t appeal.
I knew why, of course I did, and it wasn’t often these days that I entertained any buried memories that explained my behaviour, even the superficial ones. I’d thought I’d been in love once, probably difficult for some people to believe, given the way I gadded about, but yes, if that was love then I’d had it. It hadn’t progressed to the living together full-time stage, just hotel rooms or the odd weekend at his fancy country home. The only other living thing he’d introduced me to that had any connection to him was his dog, Roly. Since I had no family that I wanted anything to do with, and he’d been in no rush for me to meet his, that had been off the cards.
He was a well-known toff, someone who really shouldn’t have been dallying with the likes of me, and if anyone had ever found out he’d planted his stake in my garden, there would have been hell to pay. I realised, even back then, that the media discovering me in his life wasn’t the done thing. No, someone so prominent didn’t like to have his bit on the side flaunted. Unless she was equally high up the food chain, which I wasn’t.
And I’d loved him to death, in my own way. Thought about him every waking moment it had seemed. Wished we could be together in all ways, all the time. He’d consumed me, body and soul, and it wasn’t until later, after he’d kicked me out of his life just as another woman had taken his fancy, that I knew I could never give my heart to someone like that again.
I frowned, wondering why I didn’t get the usual pang that gnawed at my gut when I thought about him. I knew, having experienced life in a totally different way since, that he’d just been a crush. My first foray into love and all that went with it. And quite frankly, it had hurt. Why on earth would anyone want to purposely put themselves through that? First and last foray, that’s what it had been.
Now, I didn’t think there was anyone in the universe worth giving myself pain over, and I was buggered if I would. No, fleeting connections was what I was all about. All right, Victor was more than fleeting, but then again, if I thought about how long I’d been with that toff—almost a year—a month with Victor was fleeting.
I couldn’t bring myself to utter the toff’s name; he’d have to remain That Man forever. I suppose some would say that meant he still had a hold on me, that I was still affected, but I wasn’t. Hadn’t me making a new life for myself proved that? New job, new home, I’d even bought my dream car six months ago.
A little voice muttered that me not embarking
on any serious relationships also meant he still had a hold, but I shoved it to the back of my mind. What did my sub-conscious know? It didn’t understand me at all. Hadn’t for so many years now.
I flicked the quilt off and swung my legs out of bed, wondering how they’d looked to Victor last night from behind. Had he stared at them, or had his attention been elsewhere? Had he stared at my arse gobbling up his cock, or had he liked the ripples spreading over my buttocks as he’d forged into me over and over?
As I showered, my thoughts left Victor and went back to the past again. I mused, as I soaped my body, about how I’d stumbled into my career, how That Man had given me a taste for being a Domme. He’d instructed me, had moulded me into one over the twelve months we’d been together—it was what he’d wanted, a whip-wielding Mistress to flog him, beat him, fuck him so hard he shook and cried and needed putting back together again. It would help me, too, so he’d said. To find myself again, my true self, after my soul had wandered down a rogue path not of my choosing.
I was bloody good at it, being a Domme. In fact, I saw it now as a calling, so me seeing an advert in the local rag asking for dominant women to join a fast-expanding business…well, I’d gone along to Eden Street in a flash. Of course, I hadn’t thought the business was what it was. I’d just got hooked on the word ‘dominant’ and had gone for it. However, after the first flush of embarrassment had begun to fade, and a chat with Carlos and Fifi had made me well aware of what my duties would be, I’d agreed to give it a go. It wasn’t like I was having sex with the customers for money, just orchestrating others’ pleasure for their masturbation sessions. Plus I had a great body—no reason to hide something that was aesthetically pleasing to so many. If you’ve got it flaunt it, or so Fifi had said.
And I hadn’t looked back since. Hadn’t regretted one second of it. I had money, friends, adoration, and I was independent. Nope, I had no qualms about my decisions at all.
Until now.
No, no, no, I didn’t regret a thing.
Shaking my head at my stupid contradicting thoughts, I dried off then dressed, suddenly at a loss as to what to do with myself until work later on. I had the insane urge to visit Victor at his office, but from what he’d said last night, I didn’t think I’d better. Feeling unsettled, I opted for the coffee shop again. Not on the off-chance that Victor would pop in, but because, well, I needed to scout for men, didn’t I? My last visit had been rudely interrupted.