Reckless Whisper

by Lucia Jordan

  “Where are we going?” Lydia asked, watching familiar streets turn to unfamiliar ones.

  “Back to my place, if you don’t mind,” he replied, handing her one of the coffees. She sipped it gratefully. “It’s easier to do these things in a familiar place,” he brought out a piece of paper and handed it to her. “This is a contract,” he explained. “You’ll want to read it and sign it. I’ve taken the liberty of signing it already,” he pointed to a swirling, artistic scrawl at the bottom of the page.

  Lydia read through the page, raising her eyebrows several times as she did so.

  The binding contact between Lydia Westwood (sub) and Jack Riding (dom) hereby states that the sub will at all times adhere to any and all instructions given by the dom. The sub has no right to end the scene, except through statement of the Safe Word, hereby designated as Coffee.

  The scene may include but is not limited to the following activities…

  There followed a list ranging from spanking to fisting that made Lydia’s eyebrows shoot up in horror. She decided that safe word would be on the tip of her tongue at all times, as the cab pulled up outside a large, three-storey terraced house in the heart of London.

  “Are you rich?” she asked as she got out of the vehicle.

  “Well, yes, actually,” Jack knocked on the door once and a man in a suit answered the door.

  “Good afternoon, Sir,” he said, opening the door to let his employer in. “Will you be requiring anything?”

  “Just the third floor, Brown, thank you,” Jack handed his coat to the butler and indicated Lydia should do the same. With a slight incline of the head, the man called ‘Brown’ disappeared into a different room.

  “Should I take my shoes off?” Lydia asked, feeling stupid.

  “Yes, that will save some time,” Jack smiled. “We’ll take the third floor. I hope you are prepared,” and he indicated she should lead the way up the oak staircase, smiling politely at her confusion. With each step she was getting closer and closer to something new, something exciting with this man who she could feel following her from behind; his eyes soaking in her body with each and every step. The dream she had remembered earlier that morning popped into her head in its entirety and she smiled as she recalled the images, hoping that dreams really do come true.

  Chapter Three

  Lydia stood, stripped naked, her arms wrapped protectively around herself in the centre of a large room which was painted a dark, seductive blue. Around her seemed to be weapons of various degrees of distress.

  There was a strange seat, like a pommel-horse; a large ‘X’ shape, complete with buckles at the end of each line; a curved table-like object and an assortment of whips, buckles, chains, straps and handcuffs. Lydia was overcome with curiosity and went to examine the enormous ‘X’ on the wall. She had just reached up to touch one of the buckles, running her fingers over it when the door to the room opened and shut.

  “That’s a St. Andrew’s Cross,” Jack’s voice said helpfully. “Would you like to try it?”

  “Um,” Lydia’s hands moved to cover her naked body and she blushed outwardly while inside she burned with excitement. “No, not right now,” and she remembered that ‘no’ wasn’t an accepted form of refusal here. But Jack smiled and stepped into the light, so she could see he was entirely naked, too.

  He had the toned body of someone who works out but not obsessively. His dark blond hair turned to curls on his breastbone and even darker around his currently flaccid, yet still impressive prick.

  “Then we shall start at the beginning, as is correct,” he said, as he pointed towards the strange curved table. “Drape yourself over that,” he said. “Bottom up.”

  Lydia crossed the room self-consciously to the soft, padded table and rested her toned stomach over the curve. It was surprisingly comfortable and she felt no muscle strains at all leaning over it. She had just allowed herself to relax when Jack’s hand came down upon her with the force of an express train and smacked her on the backside.

  “Ow!” she cried reacting without even meaning to. She couldn’t believe how much that hurt. She fought to gather herself as a second blow, on the other cheek slapped her back into shock and pain radiated across her buttocks. Then came both hands at once, making hot contact with her sore skin, following the smacks with squeezes that would at any other time be sensual.

  It was this moulding of her flesh that made Lydia pause. The heat of the pain was transforming. As her backside was warmed, tiny nerve pulses seemed to be travelling from her wounded flesh to her sex, and she gasped in surprise.

  “Shall I go on?” a sarcastic voice above her said.

  “Yes,” she nodded, and immediately the spanking became harder, faster, almost frenzied. Pain rained down on her backside, but even as it did so, the blossoming feeling turned from pain to all-consuming warmth. She felt her sex open slightly as if in response to the feeling, and the more Jack touched her, even though it was intended to hurt her, made her want him all the more. Gradually, the slaps stopped, as if Jack’s arm was tiring.

  “How does that feel?” he asked, massaging her buttocks with both hands – avoiding her sex completely.

  “Nice… Nicer than I expected,” she replied, wondering if it was all over.

  “Good,” he said. “Then you’ll be fine with what comes next,” and he walked over to a wall where he kept various restraints and whips. Lydia craned her head and saw that Jack’s penis had sprung to life during her beating. It was now engorged and inviting – the glowing pinkness of his glans made her think of sucking candy. He came back, though Lydia could not see what he carried.

  The dark-haired woman flinched as she felt buckles fasten around her ankles – first right, then the left. She tried to move her feet, but found she could not.

  “There’s a solid bar between your legs to hold them open,” Jack explained, tracing a line of fiery desire up her calf, thigh and buttock. “I want to see everything you have,” and the fingers traced this time down the valley between her buttocks, over her pink, puckered anus, down her perineum and graced tantalisingly over her sex, which was wet and opening in response to his touch.

  “That’s… ah,” she trembled as his fingers opened the folds of her sex, exposing the entrance to her vagina.

  “Soon,” he said, pressing a fingertip against her opening. There was a pause, and Lydia wondered what was to happen as she heard a loud ‘crack’ sound. There was a second where nothing happened at all, and then fire like nothing Lydia had ever felt shot from the back of her thighs, up towards her brain. She did not scream, just moaned as she reached around to try and comfort her legs. Jack batted her hands away and struck her with the riding crop again.

  CRACK. All the blood in Lydia’s legs went rushing to the injured spot and set alight, burning her skin so she cried. She braced herself for another blow and it came – whipping down with precision aim directly on top of her already scalded flesh. She squealed and wriggled helplessly on the padded table, aware that as she struggled, her sex was betraying her – the warmth from her pain was making her ready, willing and desperate to be filled by her pain-giver.

  Lydia could feel her wetness growing and the swell of her clitoris as she moved on the table. Jack delivered less painful but still stinging strikes to the backs of her legs as she wormed about, trying to deny her arousal and escape the burn of the riding crop.

  “Had enough?” Jack’s voice sounded as though he was enjoying watching her squirm.

  “I… I don’t know!” Lydia shook her head to try and clear away the stars she was seeing. Jack ran the riding crop over her sore legs, causing the blood to flood her nether regions and then, slowly, ran the crop over her sex.

  Lydia froze as she felt the leather grace over her clitoris, labia and anus, fearing for the damage a blow to them might do. But Jack Riding was kind this time, and simply sought out his submissive’s clitoris again and gently rubbed it with the soft end of the riding crop.

  It was different to
a hand, different again from a sex toy, and the smoothness of the leather running slickly and quickly over her swollen clit made Lydia moan gently. Jack squeezed her slap-marks with his free hand and increased the sensations inside and out of Lydia’s body. She surrendered to this new pleasure as the friction increased.

  …to be continued.

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