by Ashe Barker
We sip in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Nicholas reaches for the now half empty carafe and offers me a refill. I accept, and we repeat the pouring and milk ritual.
“Fancy a nibble?” He lifts the tray and pulls it closer, carefully balancing it across our knees. “Please don’t scoff all the hummus—I intend to lick that off your nipples a little later. But you’re welcome to anything else…”
My nipples! Christ! I feel my face burning—despite this evening’s dizzying succession of intimacies I’m not beyond embarrassment it would appear, and he chuckles softly. “It’s playtime, sweetheart, and now that we’ve started to widen your horizons a little, I’m nowhere near finished with you yet. I’m thinking maybe we could try some of this garlic mayonnaise on your clit too. Unless you’re in a hurry to get away, obviously…?
I shake my head, my expression no doubt somewhat dazed. He chooses not to comment, just nods briefly and helps himself to a carrot stick. He dunks it in the garlic mayonnaise, perhaps intending to start developing a taste for the stuff. I can but hope. But he holds it out to me instead, and I obediently open my mouth for him to pop it in.
“Good girl. Now, eat up. You’ll be needing your strength.”
Chapter Five
He’s right of course. I do indeed need my strength.
Nicholas Hardisty takes charge of the food, taking a mouthful for himself, then offering me the same. We clear the carrots and celery first, by mutual agreement our joint favorite, then move on to polish off the pitta. I prefer wholemeal and he seems to favor the white stuff, but otherwise we’re in total accord. The hummus remains untouched, but we make short work of the taramasalata and some sort of cheesy chivey thing. At last all the nibbles are gone, and Nicholas stands to shift the tray, placing it on the floor by the door. He brings the tub of hummus back and places it on the bedside table, along with the remaining garlic mayonnaise. His dark gray gaze is warm as he watches my reaction. I try for cool, I really do, but fail miserably. I can feel my pussy becoming wet just at the thought of what’s to come, and he bloody knows it.
Smiling softly he reaches for the hummus and places the small pot in my right hand, kindly refraining from commenting overmuch on my trembling fingers and the fact that I almost drop the lot.
“Hold tight, love. Don’t want to spill it, do we? Now, in a moment I’d like you to cover your nipples with this stuff, and then present your breasts to me. Do you know how to do that? Present your breasts, I mean?
I shake my head, a small frown on my face. And he’s no longer smiling. This might be playtime, but we’re back to Dom/sub stuff now and that’s serious, sort of. He means me to obey him, and to do this right.
“You’ll kneel, in front of me, on the bed. Usually you’d do this standing up, but since we’re here… Anyway, you’ll fold your arms behind your back, cup each elbow with the opposite hand. That pulls your shoulders back and pushes your breasts out. Very pretty. You do have beautiful breasts, by the way. Did I mention that?”
Beautiful breasts? Me? Well I always quite liked them but no one else has ever commented. I could really get to like Nicholas Hardisty.
“But that’s enough of you fishing for compliments, Miss Stone. Get on with it please.” His formal, clipped tone seems incongruous given the light, teasing banter, but I know it’s deliberate. This is fun, we’re here to enjoy ourselves together. We’re here to indulge ourselves in fucking good sex with a generous dose of kink thrown in, but he’s the top and I’m the bottom, and we both know the rules.
He holds my gaze for a few moments more, then I give in first and drop my eyes. I focus on the pot of innocent-looking hummus and with no further ado scoop a generous helping onto the fingers of my left hand. My eyes now firmly fixed on my breasts, and more particularly my right nipple, I carefully apply the creamy, grainy substance to my body, making sure the nipple is completely covered before transferring the pot to my right hand and repeating the process with my left nipple. I’m generous, leaving no part of the rosy tips uncovered. Luckily the hummus is thick and sticky, and stays put very obligingly. Once I’m satisfied with my work I pick up a serviette from the tray and wipe my fingers, taking my time before shifting into a more formal kneeling position, and arranging my arms behind my back as instructed.
He’s right, the position does exactly what he said it would. The effect is decadent, salacious even. And doing it, inviting his attention in this way, I feel like a total slut. Deliciously, blatantly sluttish. Wonderful.
He’s lying on the bed, his shoulders propped against the headboard as he watches me. “That’s very good, little sub. For your first attempt. Now, come closer please.”
I shuffle forward on my knees, careful not to topple over as the unnatural position of my arms throws me off balance. I definitely don’t want to waste all that lovely hummus by wiping it all over the bedclothes.
“Straddle me.” The command is issued in a low tone, quiet but clear.
I obey without hesitation. Or try to. I almost over-balance when I lift my left knee to reach over him, but he makes no move to steady me, just sits still, his eyes on my breasts. I let go of my careful positioning momentarily, but quickly settle down astride his stomach and restore order.
“You’ll need to practice that. When you’re presenting your breasts to me, you don’t release your arms, not for any reason, unless I give you permission to do so. That’s to be your only warning, sub. Is there anything about my instructions that you don’t completely understand?”
I shake my head, all nervous anticipation now. All hint of playfulness is gone, Nicholas Hardisty is in total Dom mode, and absolutely terrifying. And exciting. Powerful. Thrilling. Irresistible. He reaches out his right hand to cup the underside of my left breast, lifting the soft globe slightly, testing the weight. His fingers are gentle, his touch light. It surprises me, I’d expected him to be more…severe. But he’s full of surprises, his handling of me soft and caring. Tender almost.
“Lean forward, and place your breast in my mouth. Do it slowly, please.”
I draw a slow, shaky breath, and do as I’m told.
My pussy clenches delightfully as Nicholas Hardisty’s tongue curls around my nipple. The sensitive nub has grown and hardened under the hummus, and by the time he takes it in his mouth and sucks, hard, I’m beyond aroused. My position straddling his body makes sure my engorged clitoris and labia are in contact with his naked stomach which in turn ensures he’s under no illusions regarding my growing arousal as my juices flow freely. My whole body is tingling, desperate for release, for anything, and I find that I can angle my body slightly to create the friction I’m by now absolutely craving against my clit. I try to do so only to have him growl at me.
“No taking control, little sub. Your clit can wait. Unless you’d like me to clamp it for you…?”
Christ, no! I shake my head desperately, and make it my business to remember to sit still, no matter what he does to me.
“Thought not. Don’t interrupt again. Now, where was I?”
He quickly finds his place again, taking my nipple and much of my breast into his mouth before lapping lazily at it until all the hummus is gone and I’m panting with need. He uses his hands to lift and shape my breast, holding it in exactly the right position for his ministrations to have best effect, and I can do nothing but remain still, my arms clasped uncomfortably behind my back, all my senses focused on what he’s doing to me.
Eventually he lifts his gaze to mine again. “The other one now, please.”
He waits patiently for the few seconds it takes me to reposition myself, bringing my right breast toward his mouth. Again, he takes its weight in his hand, lifting my breast to place it exactly where he wants it in order to repeat the sensuous torture. He starts by curling just his tongue around the nipple, scooping away the hummus before flicking it lightly. Then he opens his mouth to draw more of my breast in, stroking it lightly with his fingers as he uses his lips and teeth to tease the soft, respo
nsive curves, licking away all the creamy goo to leave my skin gleaming and clean. I gasp, my body clenching under the onslaught, but I can’t help that. I hope he won’t take issue, especially as I can feel my slick juices smearing his stomach. God, how obvious. Such a slut. If I hadn’t already had God knows how many orgasms in the last couple of hours, I’d come again, just from the skilled pressure of his tongue on my nipples, but I’m already well sated and made of sterner stuff by now it seems. Still, there’s always the garlic mayo to fall back on.
“You can move your arms now, Freya.” He lifts his gaze to mine again, still caressing my breast lazily with his palm, shaping and molding it in his hand.
I wait for the squeeze, the pinch or twist at my nipple, but it doesn’t come. He’s all gentle, all tender care. Reverent almost.
“Beautiful. Soft and round, and just fits in my hand. And your nipples are so responsive. You make my mouth water, Miss Stone, you really do. And talking of which, lie back and spread your legs please.”
Ah yes, the mayonnaise…
I lie back obediently and lift my knees, letting my legs fall open obligingly. Nicholas kneels on the floor, placing his hands on my hips to position me at the edge of the bed. Unresisting, I allow him to maneuver me into position, and I wait.
“Now you present your clit to me. Do you know how to do that?”
Again I shake my head, and I wait for my instructions.
“You use the index and middle fingers of each of your hands to part the lips, exposing your clitoris and making sure it’s totally accessible for me. You spread the lips wide and hold them open, even if it feels uncomfortable. And as before, you hold perfectly still, whatever I do to you. Is that clear?”
I nod briefly, but it’s enough.
“No questions?”
I shake my head this time.
“Fine. Do it then, please.”
I reach down, carefully placing the fingers of each hand as he described, and pull the lips surrounding my clitoris apart. I’m slippery, slick with my own juices, and it’s not easy to grip. And I have a distinct suspicion it won’t be getting any easier any time soon.
“Mmm, looking good, Miss Stone. You have a very pretty little cunt there. And your clit is positively throbbing. Are you rather excited, perhaps, Freya?”
I close my eyes, my head tilted back. Christ, I just want him to touch me. I need to come so much, so badly now. Or better still maybe we could skip all this foreplay palaver and he could just fuck me again. Please. What’s with all the chat?
“Answer me. A simple nod will do. Are you a little bit excited, Miss Stone? Aroused, perhaps? Or are you just wishing I’d get on with it and fuck you again?”
Christ, that bloody telepathy. I nod, but keep my eyes tightly closed. I feel so exposed, lying in front of him like this. My clitoris and pussy are blatantly laid open for him to study and to comment on, even if he is complimentary, appreciative and terribly polite. I’m totally vulnerable, and closing my eyes seems to offer me some illusion of privacy.
But it is an illusion, and a dangerous one. I jerk violently as the cool mayonnaise connects with my hot, throbbing clit, smoothed and spread there by his gentle fingers.
“Keep still, Miss Stone. I’ll let that little wriggle go because this stuff’s cold and you weren’t expecting it, but you do not move again. Is that clear? And if you don’t want to be taken by surprise, I suggest you open your eyes.”
I manage to prize my eyelids apart, and glance up at him. His slate-colored eyes are gleaming, his own arousal obvious as he lowers his gaze to once more examine my sensitive clit, now generously daubed with aromatic salad dressing. He dips his head, slowly nibbling his way along my inner right thigh and across my straining fingers to touch the tip of his tongue delicately into the mayonnaise on the inner lips. Only by extreme force of will do I manage to remain still.
“Good girl, you’re learning. Now let’s try that again.”
This time he trails his tongue the length of my left thigh, and again I manage to anchor myself to the bed as he dips his tongue into the mayonnaise coating the very edge of my clit. There’s nothing at all I can do, though, to stem the flow of my juices, and I just know my clit is swelling even before his eyes. He slants a storm-gray glance back up at me, smiling softly. “This isn’t going to take long, is it, my beautiful little slut? You’re going to come as soon as my tongue touches your clit. You’ll be going off like a little firecracker, won’t you? And I’m going to watch, and enjoy the show. And, Freya, you need to concentrate because I want you to hold that position, until I’ve removed every last bit of mayonnaise and I tell you you can move. Okay?”
He expects an answer, and I nod, desperate by then for this to be over. I find myself wondering if it’s possible to actually die of pleasure? Or of terrible anticipation? I only have a few brief moments to ponder these great questions before he drops his head again, this time fastening his lips around my engorged clit and sucking hard. And he’s absolutely right, I do go off like a firecracker. The rush of orgasm is instantaneous, engulfing me, hitting me like a tsunami. I’m drowning in it, shuddering and trembling under the onslaught, but somehow I manage to obey his instructions. I hold the position, maintaining my death grip on my slick folds, holding my body exposed and accessible as he licks, sucks, nibbles my quivering clit and I shake helplessly underneath him. My breath is catching, hitching in my throat, the only sound to betray the depth of my surrender to this sensual attack. Nothing so far has compared to this. This is total and absolute surrender, and he completely owns my response.
He takes his time, drawing out the ecstasy as the electrifying buzz of my release washes over and through me, every nerve ending tingling, focused entirely on that little bud of sizzling, throbbing flesh gripped so mercilessly between Nicholas Hardisty’s lips.
At last, at long last, the shocks and after-shocks subside and my body drifts unsteadily back into the here and now. As I regain some semblance of consciousness of my surroundings I realize I’m still holding the position. Incredibly, the force of his will is stronger than even the most powerful orgasm. I obey him, despite everything.
“Good girl. Let me take over now.” He peels my rigid fingers away, placing my hands by my sides on the bed. Then he replaces my fingers with his own, stroking, exploring, testing.
He slides three fingers inside me, easily, my pussy ready and welcoming, the walls clenching and grasping him. I want, need, him to fill me. Now. If I had a voice I’d beg, but as it is I can only hope he’ll get the message.
He does. Of course he does. That bloody telepathy for once on my side. “God, you’re lovely when you’re so aroused. You want me inside you, don’t you? Tell me what you want, Freya. Can you remember the signal?”
I think for a moment then squeeze my inner muscles hard, the signal that says ‘I like this, I want more’.
“Turn over. I’m fucking you from behind this time. You did say that was your favorite, and you’ve been so good that I’m taking requests.” He stands, flips me over onto my stomach, and quickly positions me with my knees bent and my bum in the air.
He shoves my knees apart as far as they’ll go and kneels behind me. There’s a tear of the condom foil pack opening, and I wait a couple of seconds for him to unroll the latex. Then his hands are on me. This time he uses his thumbs to gently part the lips of my pussy as he carefully positions the head of his cock in my entrance. He waits for a moment, steadying me, before plunging deep, filling me completely.
I’m ready, totally ready and expecting it, but still I gasp. He just takes my breath away, every time. He starts to thrust, long and sure and firm, with each stroke burying himself to the hilt inside my unresisting body. It’s wonderful, each thrust of his cock perfectly positioned to connect with that oh-so-sensitive spot inside me, with unerring precision, a direct hit every time. And he also leans in, reaching under me to place the pad of his finger on my clit, stroking lightly, in time with his rhythmic momentum. And it’s that ge
sture of unselfish sensuality, done for no other reason than to heighten my pleasure, that tips me once more into the boiling turmoil of orgasm. Suddenly I’m spinning, swirling—my senses again scrambling as my body clenches in desperate release, grabbing and gripping him, the feeling of fullness heightened as my pussy convulses around him. He uses his finger on my clit to increase the pressure, circling and rubbing as I claw at the bedding beneath me, my hands curling into fists as I crest yet another glorious wave.
Nicholas Hardisty’s own muffled curse of pleasure tells me that he has come too. I suspect I’ve had the best of this bargain, to be fair. In fact, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve come this evening, but he’s doing all right too. And that realization fills me with a sense of pure female satisfaction. It’s been a wonderful learning curve for me, even the not so nice bits at the beginning, but I’ve managed to give Nicholas Hardisty a good time too. Who would have thought it?
It’s over. This most wonderful, sensual, unexpected turn of events is coming to a close. This most perfect evening is almost at an end. He has to go. Real life can always be relied on to upturn even the sturdiest of apple carts, and this evening is no exception.
“I have to make a trip tomorrow. Today in fact. I need to be checking in at Manchester in four hours so I’m going to have to go soon. I have to pick up my passport and some other stuff.” He does look genuinely regretful as he hands me a warm, wet flannel to wipe off any remaining bits of stickiness from my breasts and watches my progress carefully as I apply it. Then, “How are you getting home, Freya?”
I pass the flannel back to him and mimic driving, using my hands to grip and turn a pretend steering wheel, and he nods. “Where are you parked? In the car park around the back?”