Indulgence

by Liz Crowe

  An orgasm unlike anything I’ve ever experienced settles in. It’s quiet but powerful, and I’m drawn into it like the pull of a magnet. His eyes bore into my soul and he whispers, “Kimmie, I love you more than anything else in this world.”

  I can barely speak as another climax hits me, but I manage to groan out, “Oh, god, Jaz, I love you too. You’re my everything.” In just a few more minutes, another one knots me up, and I grip his fingers so tightly that I’m sure I’m hurting him, but he just squeezes back gently and keeps going, that rock-hard shaft making my body sing.

  But staring into his eyes this way? I can honestly say I’ve never felt this connected to another living soul. It’s almost like our life forces have combined, and I feel like I’m slipping into forever with him. When I look into those gorgeous brown orbs, what I see reflected back is pure joy, and I just want us wrapped up in each other’s arms. I want to drown in the passion and beauty that this relationship is steeped in. “Can you feel it, baby? Feel it?” he whispers to me.

  “Oh, god, yes. Yes, Jaz, I do. Please, god, I don’t ever want to stop. Promise me you’ll always love me.”

  “Always, baby.” I start to say something when he moans, “Oh, god, I’m coming. I can’t hold back anymore.”

  “Then don’t. Just let go.” Another orgasm hits me just as he grinds into me, setting my body on fire, and his climax is complete. He drops his body weight down onto me and buries his face in my neck, his breath hot on my skin. I murmur to him, “Can we undo these cuffs? I really want to touch you.”

  With a little nip on my neck, he rises and starts unhooking the cuffs. When they’re off, we roll to our sides and just hold each other. I’ve never felt so complete before, and it’s sweet and precious. “Better?” he asks with a warm smile.

  “Much better.” I hesitate for a few seconds, then say, “I’ll be so glad when we don’t have to use a condom.”

  “Me too. Someday soon . . .” he says, then adds, “But always for anal. Always.”

  Wonder when we’ll do that?, I ask myself, but I don’t say anything. There’s always tomorrow. I want tomorrow with Jasper. I want all of my tomorrows with him.

  *****

  “Ready?”

  “Yeah! I think I’ve got everything. How long is it going to take us to get there?”

  “About five hours. I figured we’d stop along the way and get some dinner.” Jaz reaches down and picks up my bags. “Good lord, girl, what’ve you got in these?”

  “Bricks,” I grin.

  “Feels like it.” Once he gets them in the car, he comes back for his own.

  I notice his gig bag sitting by the door. “What’s in the bag?”

  He grins. “Stuff.”

  I grin back. “What kind of stuff?”

  “Good stuff.”

  I like the sound of that.

  Once we’re on the road, I turn on the radio, but Jaz reaches over and turns it off. “Why’d you do that?”

  He smiles without looking at me. “I want us to be able to talk. Can’t do that with the radio going.”

  “Oh.” I’d never thought of that. Phil didn’t ever want to talk. He just listened to the radio. Half the time when I tried to ask him something, he couldn’t even hear me. Of course, I’ve wondered if he just pretended he couldn’t. “So what are we going to talk about?”

  Jaz just shrugs. “I dunno. I just thought it would be nice if we could.”

  “Oh. Okay. So, um, I had a new client today.”

  He grins. “One of those Doms I asked you to call me about?”

  “No!” That makes me laugh. “No, just a sub who wanted a new corset. She doesn’t have a Dom. I think she’s planning to look for one and she wants to look good.”

  “Makes sense to me.” I watch him as he’s driving. God, he’s a looker. I still can’t believe he’d have anything to do with me, but I’m sure glad he has. “So have you heard anything from the young sub with the older Dom?”

  “Not lately. I’m guessing she’s getting pretty big. But she’s so cute. I bet that baby will be cute too.”

  We just keep chatting, and I get a surprise: Jaz’s oldest sister, Marlene, lives in St. Louis. And it appears I’ll be meeting her. That makes me extremely nervous, but I guess it’s inevitable. Then I think of something else. “So are we going to a club while we’re there?”

  “I’ll let you decide that. Let’s see what happens, shall we?” I’m watching his face and there’s something there that I can’t define. He’s up to something; I just don’t know what. “So I found someone to show you around.”

  I just know what he’s going to say. “Marlene, right?”

  “Nope.”

  Well, that’s a surprise. Once again, it’s not safe to assume. “Oh? Who?”

  “Misty. My friend Reggie’s wife. She said she’d be glad to. Is that okay with you?”

  I shrug. “Sure, I guess. I like meeting new people. That’ll be fun.”

  “Yeah. I think it will be.”

  Why do I get the distinct impression that there’s something going on there? That he’s not telling me something? It’s right there on his face, but he’s not giving anything away. I decide to just not ask and wait. If he wants to surprise me, there must be a good reason.

  We take a couple of breaks and, because it’s late, we stop in Springfield and eat on the way. There’s a little mom and pop Italian place, and it’s really good; Jaz says he stops there when he’s going to and coming from St. Louis, and I love that we’re getting to do the things together that he does while he’s traveling alone. We manage to roll into the porte-cochere of the hotel at eleven thirty. What a place! I may not be much of a traveler, but I’ve got a feeling it’ll be a long time before I see another hotel this beautiful. The fountain out front alone would impress anyone, but the inside of the hotel is like another world. Wandering about in the lobby, I take in the furniture and artwork while Jaz checks in. Lost in my observations, I’m startled when he slips an arm around my waist from behind and says, “I’ve got the key. Let’s go.” He leads me toward a bank of elevators, and I start to ask about our luggage, but I’m guessing there’s someone bringing it up for us, so I just say nothing and grin. I feel like a princess.

  “Home sweet home,” Jaz says with a sweep of his arm when the door to the room opens. My god – I’ve never seen a more opulent room. It’s amazing, from the beautifully-appointed draperies to the big, regal bed. I note immediately that the headboard is solid, damn it. But I know Jaz. If he wants to play, he’ll find a way to do it. I’m greeted by a bathroom that’s gorgeous, all granite and chrome and glass. There are fresh flowers everywhere; their scent wafting about as we walk the room. “Like it?”

  “Oh, god, Jaz, it’s incredible. I feel like royalty.” Without warning, he grabs my arm, yanks me up against him, and wraps his arms around my waist.

  The sudden sadness on his face freezes my heart. “You are royalty, baby girl. You’re my queen. This is the kind of life you should be living, not some two-bit existence with a manufacturing specialist who can’t give you the things you deserve. This is what I want you to have.”

  “I have everything I need,” I whisper and give him a peck on the lips, then add, “and everything I want. More. I have more than enough.” My hands find his face, my thumbs stroking his cheeks, and I murmur into his mouth, “If all I had was you, I’d never want for anything more.” The second the words are out, he crushes my lips with his in a kiss that makes little flames lick up and down my spine. I’m losing myself in it when there’s a knock at the door.

  “Ah, opulence has its downfalls too!” he snickers as he goes to the door. The bellman – yes, he’s wearing one of those suits, to my delight – wheels the cart with our luggage into the room, and I behave myself while Jaz flips open his wallet and hands the man a bill before the gentleman retreats to the hallway. “So everything’s here. And it’s midnight. I’ve got to be at the plant tomorrow morning at eight, and your ride is coming at nine
. I’m thinking we should just get some sleep. Whaddya think?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I sing-song back and give him my best coy smile. “I was kinda looking forward to making this bed ours.”

  “Oh yeah? We can do that. I’m just not up for our usual Olympic decathalon.” He’s coming out of his shirt and slacks, and seeing him standing there in nothing but his briefs and socks makes my tummy do little flip-flops. Before I can get comfortable with that view, he whips off the briefs, slips off his socks, and turns to me. I reach for the bottom of my top, but he barks out, “No. I’m undressing you. Stand still.” The top comes off first, followed by my jeans and socks. I stand there in front of him in my bra and panties, a racy little number that I bought at the big lingerie store in the mall about a week before. They’re extremely frou-frou, and I suddenly feel stupid. Someone my age standing here in something like this? Really? I should be wearing cotton granny panties and a fifties cone-shaped bra.

  “You look delicious, angel,” he hums into my neck as he nips it, and suddenly I’m glad I wore the set.

  “I don’t look ridiculous?”

  “Ridiculous is the last term I’d use to describe you.” His teeth graze my neck again before he sucks hard on it.

  “No hickeys,” I mumble.

  “Love bites. Please. We’re not in high school anymore,” he snickers.

  “Hickeys. Love bites. Whatever. I really don’t want to wear them around St. Louis. I think my tour guide might be a little uncomfortable with that, not to mention what your sister will think.”

  “Trust me, they’d be fine with Misty, and Marlene couldn’t care less.” His hands wander from my waist up my back, and when they find the closure on my bra, they snap it open and he lets out a sigh. “There we go,” he whispers as he slips the straps down my arms, and I stand there in nothing but my panties as he stares at me.

  I guess I squirm a little because he growls, “Stand still. What’s wrong?”

  With a little shrug, I mumble, “That’s a little uncomfortable, you looking at me that way.”

  “Why?” In a second or two, he says, “Kimmie, look at me. Eyes up here, baby.” When I manage to meet his gaze, he chuckles. “I’ve fucked you to kingdom come and back, lay face to face with your yoni, licked and sucked your clit until you’re screaming, and you’re embarrassed to stand in front of me naked?” He shakes his head and chuckles again. “I’ll never understand women if I live to be a thousand. Never.”

  That makes me giggle. “We’re a curiosity, I guess.”

  “You guess? Yeah, a curiosity. That’s one way to put it.” I get the impression with the way he’s looking at me now that he’s planning something, maybe something I don’t want to know about, at least not yet. Then he leans down and drags my panties down my legs, stopping on the way back up to kiss my mound sweetly before standing in front of me again. “Now, go over and stand in front of the bed.” I do as he says and watch him go to his gig bag, rummaging around until he pulls something out. Turning back to me, he holds out the objects he’s pulled out and I almost snort.

  My blue platform stilettos. He hands them to me and snarls, “Go to the bathroom, do whatever you need to do, put these on, and get back out here.” Without a word, I grab them from his hands and make a bee-line for the bathroom.

  It’s amazing in here. There’s a toilet and a bidet. Never got the hang of those things, but I decide to try it. Not bad – not bad at all. That eliminates the need for personal towelettes, I must say. I find my toothbrush and toothpaste and brush my teeth, then grab my hairbrush and brush my hair. A quick look in the mirror says that I look okay, so I slip on the shoes and head back out into the bedroom to find him waiting. Lamps and lights turned off, there are a half-dozen candles burning around the room to illuminate it. “Give me just a few seconds and I’ll be right back,” he says, and I hear the sound of the water running, probably for brushing his teeth. When he returns, he goes back to his bag and digs around again.

  Stepping toward me, I see that there’s some kind of box in his hands, a good-sized, wooden box. Gesturing at me, he entices me to reach for it, and I take it in my flattened palms, his hand resting on the lid of the box. Once I’m holding it, he opens the lid and takes out something sparkly.

  It’s a massive necklace covered in what looks like diamonds, and when he fastens it around my neck, it fans down and across my chest like a huge collar. Next comes a pair of earrings to match it, their dangles brushing the tops of my shoulders, followed by two large cuff bracelets, which he snaps around my wrists as I continue to hold the box. I can’t imagine that there could be anything else in the box.

  I’m wrong. The last item he pulls from its depths is a tiara, and it’s huge and gorgeous. He places it gently on my head, then clips it in place. Even without shaking my head, I can tell it’s more than secure enough to stay on through . . . well, whatever it is that he’s planning to do. My jewels firmly set, he takes the box from my hands and places it on a small table to the side, then spins back to look at me.

  What I see in his face takes my breath away. It’s as though he’s mesmerized by the sight in front of him, and yet it’s just me, just plain, boring me. Before I can move or even think, he takes my hands and leads me out to the balcony.

  I’m horrified. I know logically that the rest of the city is probably asleep – well, most of it anyway – but still, I’m naked, dripping in jewels, and standing on a balcony on the fifth floor. If it were the sixteenth, I might feel better, but it’s just the fifth. Anyone driving up in the drive could easily see us up here, and yet it doesn’t seem to bother him one bit. Hands on my shoulders, he turns me to face the outside, then sinks to his knees in front of me. “Hands on my head,” he orders, and when I comply, he parts my lower lips and presses his face into me.

  The intensity makes me gasp as his tongue finds my clit and teases it to misery, making me squirm and wiggle. A yelp escapes my lips as his hand comes down with a firm slap on my ass. “Hold still, princess. And not a word.” I concentrate on not only staying still and quiet, but also on staying upright in those shoes. They weren’t meant for sport, but it seems that’s what we’re into tonight. I’m getting closer and closer, and I groan when he stops. He stands and, with a wicked glint in his eye, he just says, “Turn around. Hands on the railing and legs shoulder width apart.”

  I know what’s coming, and I grip the metal tightly, listening to the now-familiar sound of latex snapping. I know what’s happening, and I’m torn. Part of me wants his cock buried in me, and part of me is terrified that someone is going to see us, see me because I’m on the outside and closest to the railing. That terror just feeds my arousal, and I struggle to stay steady on my feet and in my mind. His body is hot and hard when I feel him behind me, and he moans out, “Take it like royalty, princess.”

  He takes me like I’m a common whore, and my body responds to it like a lit match to gasoline. Behind me, pounding into me, he’s muttering, “I’m gonna fuck you, girl. I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk, you hear me? I’ll come in you so hard I’ll lift your feet right off the ground. Like my big, thick cock in your pussy, girl? Hmmm? Like it? Want it?” He told me to be silent, so I just wait. “Answer me, princess. Do you want to be fucked like a whore?”

  “Yes, Master, fuck me like a whore,” I manage to breathe out. “Oh, god, fuck me like a whore. Fuck me hard, Sir.”

  “I’m going to fuck you so hard and so long that your teeth will rattle. I’m gonna tear that pussy up with my hard dick. Take your hand off the rail and play with yourself until you come. Pinch and pull on those nipples and then flick that clit. And I wanna hear you telling me about it, girl,” his voice snarls out, and everything in my body concentrates on that one sensation of his cock dragging out and plunging back into my channel.

  When I manage to pinch one nipple, I let out a groan. “Say it, slut. Tell me how it feels to touch yourself.”

  “Oh, god, Master. Oh, god, I’m so turned on,” is all I c
an squeak out.

  His thrusts are hard and relentless. “Turned on? You’re not turned on. You’re horny, that’s what you are, whore. Horny as hell. You’re a horny little slut who wants me to fuck her.”

  “Yes, Sir, I’m so horny I can’t stand it.” That’s no lie at all. I’ve never wanted to be fucked more in my whole life. “I want you to fuck me hard. Fuck me hard, Master, please? Please fuck me so hard it hurts.”

  He shifts positions and I realize he’s stooped a little bit and fucking up and into me now, his hands on either side of me on the railing to brace himself, his breath hot on my spine as he slams into me, nearly lifting my shoes from the concrete. I’m all decked out like a proper princess, and I’m getting a world-class fucking on the balcony of the Ritz-Carlton. Holy hell. Talk about a fantasy come true. Suddenly I’m overcome with the desire to somehow see his back as he uses me. I can just imagine the muscles bunching and releasing, the contours of his skin, the sweat glistening on it as he pours such a huge amount of energy into pounding my pussy raw. It’s got to be an amazing sight. I’ve been mindlessly pinching and twisting one of my nipples, and he snarls, “Get those fingers down to your slit and find that hard little button of yours. I want to hear you scream when you come. Get to it, slut.”

  I send my hand downward until it finds my wetness. For just a few seconds, I reach on downward to my cunt and lay a finger against his cock so I can feel it as he works in and out of me. There’s a nip on my shoulder and he growls, “Don’t be feeling my cock, girl, just diddle yourself until you come. Hear me? Don’t make me punish you.”

  “Yes, Sir.” I trail up from my introitus to my clit and start to circle it with my finger. The pressure is rising as I gasp out, “Oh, oh, oh. Oh my god. Oh, god. Oh, please, oh god.”