by Ashe Barker
Ah, yes, Mistress Angela, my friend and mentor, and Nick’s sister. I’d known she was influential at the Collar, but still hadn’t realized she was in effect the club manager and a part owner.
“But enough about outside interests. We have a project of our own going on here. So tell me, Freya, would you like to go straight home after this, or do you fancy going farther, maybe a ride around Ullswater?”
“I’m not tired especially. Could we go farther?”
“Indeed we could. Are you getting a taste for two wheels then, as well as your very tasty gas-guzzler?”
“It’s fun. A bit cold, though, especially my hands. And it’s windy.”
“Wimp. Next time bring a scarf and gloves.”
Next time. Sounds promising.
“So, on to Ullswater then. But you needn’t think you get out of being very thoroughly fucked when we get back, no matter how late it is. I intend to build up your stamina, girl.”
Naturally.
* * * *
It’s after midnight when we roll back into Nick’s forecourt and I finally drag my stiff and cold limbs from his powerful bike. Nick helps me off with my helmet as my fingers have stopped working—a combination of the cold wind and stiffness from clinging onto his waist for the best part of two hours solid after we left the Kirkstone Inn. It was a wonderful ride, though, and I wouldn’t have missed it. He lets us both into the house, and as soon as the door closes behind us I assume I’ll be ordered to the bedroom, or maybe the dungeon. Nick promised me a thorough fucking, and I have no reason to doubt he’ll be as good as his word. Instead, he leans back on the door, his arms folded across his chest, and orders me to strip.
I start to sign something along the lines of “What? Here?” but stop as soon as I catch sight of his expression. My friendly, carefree companion is gone and I’m now facing the stern, uncompromising Dom, his eyebrows lowered in impatience as I stand in his hallway and fail to comply immediately with his instruction. If he said ‘Strip’ he did indeed mean here. And now.
I shed my clothes, obediently placing each item in his outstretched hand. I half expect to be punished for my hesitation in obeying him, but he hasn’t indicated anything along those lines. Yet. When my clothes are all in a crumpled heap at his feet and I’m standing before him wearing nothing but my wristbands and waist chain, my silent Dom takes his time to look me up and down. He’s perfectly familiar with my nude body by now, but still he rakes me with his eyes, indicating with an imperious swirl of his finger that I should turn around and present my rear to him.
“Can you touch your toes, Freya?” The low voice is even, matter of fact, the tone laced with steel as he makes his polite inquiry.
I glance back over my shoulder at him and nod.
“Do it then, palms on the floor if you can.”
I bend over and manage to place my palms flat on the soft carpet. From my position with my head close to the floor I watch his feet as he approaches me, as he comes to stand immediately behind me.
“I daresay you’re glad you only had half a pint now. You’ll need your balance for this. Are you comfortable, Freya?” Again, that stern tone, cool and clipped, the Dom who requires his sub to do as she’s told.
I shake my head in answer to his question, thinking he might relent and allow me to lean on something. No such luck.
“It’ll get worse. Discomfort helps you to concentrate, though, keeps your mind alert. And right now I want you to concentrate on not coming while I inspect you. Keep your hands where they are but spread your legs. Wide. As wide as you can go.”
Oh, Christ. I shuffle my feet apart, increasing the strain on the muscles down the backs of my thighs. The position is really painful now and I stop, convinced I can open no wider, only to have him nudge my feet a good six inches farther apart with his toe.
“You’re not really trying, Freya. I said as wide as you can go.” His voice is stern, taking issue with my efforts. “You’ve earned yourself a punishment already for your disobedience. Stay there.”
Unable to sign an apology as my hands are flat on the floor I can only listen to his footsteps as he strides down the hallway in the direction of the dungeon. He returns moments later with a thick leather strap. It’s one of the heaviest in his collection, and I know it’ll hurt, although it doesn’t have any studs on it. Much depends on the skill and intention of the Dom, of course. He returns to his position behind me and lays the strap gently across my buttocks, trailing it over my body as I shake in confused anticipation.
Even though I’m afraid, and my muscles hurt like a bitch, I’m also incredibly aroused. My pussy is moistening, and in this position I don’t doubt my ridiculously aroused state is perfectly obvious to him too.
“Three strokes for your disobedience just now, and three more for being slow to obey my instruction to undress. Then I’m going to inspect your cunt to find out exactly how wet you are. And, you, you’re not to move a muscle during any of this. Is that understood?”
I nod as I know he’ll demand an answer, and probably add on further punishment strokes if I don’t respond immediately. A moment later the first stroke lands, hard and cruel across my left buttock. I flinch and can’t prevent myself lurching forward. It hurts. Not as much, perhaps, as that first beating back at the Collared and Tied club, but then I wasn’t required to take my own weight.
“Told you not to move. Now, we start again, and this time you obey me. Right?”
Again I nod, and manage to brace myself for the blow. At least now I know what to expect. Nick doesn’t hang around. The six promised strokes are delivered hard and fast. By some miracle of determination, willpower and careful breathing control I manage to remain still throughout. My bottom feels to be in flames when Nick drops the heavy strap onto the carpet and moves to stand directly behind me. He places one of his palms on my tender skin, his fingers tracing the welts left by his beating, and I can’t prevent the involuntary clenching of my muscles as the pain bites again. He really is going for it this evening, it seems, and I’m to be pushed to the limits of what I can endure.
“I’m going to touch you now. I don’t mind you becoming aroused, and slut that you are I don’t suppose you can help that. But if you come you will regret it. So you need to concentrate, and work hard to fight off your orgasm. Do you understand, Freya?” His words are chilling, dripping with implied retribution if I fail to obey him.
I’m not terribly sure that I do understand, but I nod anyway. I jerk violently as, without preamble or warning, three fingers are rammed hard into my pussy. He growls at me to keep still, and proceeds to thrust his fingers in and out fast. It feels glorious and I clench around his hand.
“If you come, girl, that’ll earn you ten strokes with the strap. Will one orgasm right now be worth that, do you think?”
Yes! No! I grind my teeth together and try to hang onto some semblance of control as he finger-fucks me mercilessly. I’m just approaching the point where those ten strokes seem inevitable when he suddenly stops and withdraws his fingers. I sigh, my relief profound, but short-lived, as he reaches lower and pinches my clit hard between his finger and thumb. He grips the sensitive little bud firmly and pulls. It swells within his grasp and he rolls and twists as he again plunges his fingers into me. I know I can’t manage to take much more of this, and as my knees start to buckle he seems to arrive at the same conclusion and releases my clit to wrap an arm around my stomach, preventing me from collapsing in a heap at his feet.
“You definitely need to build your stamina, girl. Not bad, though, for a first attempt. Do you want to go to bed now?”
Christ, yes please! I nod, and suddenly find myself scooped up in his arms. He strides along the hallway, and I’m relieved to glance back and see the strap abandoned on the floor. Moments later I’m dumped on the bed, wincing once more as my abused bottom makes contact with the duvet. Nick just grins at me wickedly.
“Sore?”
I nod, rolling onto my side.
“I se
e. Shall I fuck you from behind then? Assuming you still want to come, that is?”
“Yes please,” I sign, and move onto all fours. Between the punishment with the strap, his fingers and the humiliation of being made to bend over and spread my legs like that, my body is absolutely humming with arousal. I need to be fucked, good and hard and very, very thoroughly. And since he’s offering…
My pussy dampens yet more as Nick gently parts my buttocks with his palms and positions himself at my entrance. “You’re hot and wet and tight, Freya. I know you’re sore, but I warn you, this won’t be gentle.”
Thank God for that. It’s the kindest thing he’s said to me since we returned from our ride out but I take barely a moment to savor it before I wriggle my hips impatiently. He slams his cock into me, right to the hilt. He stops, holds position for a moment as I adjust to his size and width, then without further ado starts up a relentless rhythm. Each thrust is fast and hard, this position allowing for even deeper penetration. My hands are stretched out on the duvet in front of me, and I’m grasping at the bedding with my fists. I know this is not going to take long, and I’m still a little confused about whether it’s acceptable for me to come or not. Past caring, I start to convulse around him, and he leans in to nibble the back of my neck and resolves my doubts.
“Come for me, Freya. Come now.”
I need no further urging, and within seconds I’m flying. He increases the intensity of his strokes and reaches around to rub my clit, drawing out every last shred of sensation for me. Gone now is the stern, uncompromising tyrant of the hallway and my skilled lover is back, pleasuring me with his hands, his mouth and his cock. And doing it very, very well.
As the last shudders of my release die away he slows his pace slightly. He now seems to be concentrating on the accuracy of his angle to ensure that he rubs against my G-spot with each stroke. The middle finger of his right hand is on my clit, the caress firm but tender and offering no respite as I quiver back to full arousal in moments. He slides his left hand up my side to reach my breast, and there he takes my nipple between his fingers and squeezes it, hard but not painful. Not quite. It’s enough to send me hurtling back into my second climax, though, this one even more explosive than the first. He increases the strength of his thrusts and I’m gripping him hard, all my inner muscles clamping down on his hard, thick cock, buried deep inside me.
It’s enough to tumble him over the edge too, and as my own orgasm recedes his cock twitches sharply within me as he lurches forward, and drives himself hard against my cervix. I hold still and shiver in delight as the familiar warmth of his semen fills my pussy, mixing with my own wetness before we both collapse onto the bed.
For a few moments he’s silent, then, “Jesus, girl, you are one sexy little subbie. We need to work on your orgasm control, though—you’d have lost it back there in the hallway if I hadn’t taken pity on you and stopped early. Next time I tell you not to come, you do it or accept the ten strokes.”
So much for post-coital pillow talk. We didn’t quite leave the Dom in the hallway, it seems. And I feel faintly indignant. I did try. His telepathic antennae on full alert, he chuckles, the sound low and sexy against the back of my neck.
“Okay, I know, I know. It’s hard at first. But you’ll get plenty of practice. Now, sleep.”
He withdraws from my body then he turns back to me and pulls me up against him, my back against his chest and his arms draped over my body. I feel comfortable and warm and safe, and I snuggle in. In moments I’m asleep.
* * * *
I wake hours later to the sound of running water. I stretch, feeling totally relaxed. I roll onto my side, momentarily confused at the unfamiliar surroundings before I remember where I am. I’m in Nick Hardisty’s house, in Cartmel, in his big, comfortable bed. Now it’s morning, and the cooling empty space next to me, together with the splashing from the en suite, tells me Nick is already up and he’s in the shower.
I’m just considering the prospect of following him into the shower, but I’m still unsure of the rules on things like that. I know he has unlimited, unrestricted access to me, but can a sub just invade a Dom’s ablutions? I’ll need to ask, or maybe I could just try it and see what happens. Sadly, however the opportunity to indulge in such reckless experimentation has passed as he re-emerges, looking absolutely gorgeous. He’s all sexy and athletic and casually hot, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist.
There are occasions when not speaking is a positive advantage, and this is one such time as I can just gaze, admire, and hopefully manage not to drool. Nick Hardisty unwrapped is indeed a magnificent sight. His torso is gleaming from the shower, droplets of water still trickling down his chest to disappear into the gravity-defying towel at his waist. Unless I’ve completely misunderstood the laws of nature that towel has absolutely no business remaining in place. None at all. His chest is lightly dusted with dark hair, also disappearing into the towel where I know it arrows down to join the pubic hair framing his wonderful cock. I’m wondering how long it might be before I get another view of Nick’s hidden treasures, or better still an opportunity to become even more closely acquainted with them.
His dark hair is still dripping, but tousled to suggest he’s made a cursory attempt to towel it dry. He glances at me as he passes the bed. At the dressing table he rummages for a comb. I take the opportunity to admire his back, his wide shoulders rippling with tight, hard muscle. I wonder how he keeps so toned. Not much time to ponder that, though, as my eyes drift south to check out his narrow waist and hips. His feet are bare, long and straight, his toes sinking into the thick bedroom carpet. Nice feet. He ignores my scrutiny, leaning in to look at his reflection in the mirror. With a few deft strokes he smooths his hair into place before turning to me.
“Awake then, Miss Stone? I guess you were tired last night after all your exertions. Did you sleep well?”
I nod, realizing that I’ve just had one of the best night’s sleep I can remember. And now, I feel wonderful. Ready for anything.
“What plans do you have? For me? Today?” Sitting up I wedge the duvet somewhat awkwardly under my armpits as I sign the question, twice, because he didn’t quite catch it first time. But he’s definitely coming on. I can’t quite manage to completely suppress the shiver of delight at his wolfish grin. Whatever he has in mind, it promises to be good. Or painful. Or both. He strolls over to rejoin me on the bed, his long body lounging beside mine as he props himself up on one elbow to look down at me, catching and holding my gaze.
“Today, Miss Stone, we’re going to work on your inhibitions around nudity. And we’ll be dealing with the troublesome matter of your sweet little virgin arse.”
Ah, right. Inhibitions?
“I’m not inhibited,” I sign the response somewhat indignantly. He gets it first time, and grins.
“No? Why are your breasts covered then? You’re gripping that duvet to your chest like an outraged Sunday School teacher.”
I relax my fingers and draw the duvet down to my waist. He smiles, but makes no move to touch me. Yet.
“Better. I think, to make sure you do get the point, you can stay naked until I tell you different, and any attempt to cover yourself will be punished. Is that clear?”
I nod slowly, thinking of last night’s episode with the strap and not at all sure I like the Dom tone that has suddenly inserted itself into his voice. It intimidates me, unnerves me. I suppose that’s the point.
“I take it your cleaning lady doesn’t come in today?”
His grin is sardonic rather than friendly, and I’m beginning to suspect that any levity might be misplaced just at this moment, especially as my bottom is still rather sore. I let my hands drop to my lap, my equivalent of falling silent.
“No, Miss Stone, she does not. It’s just you and me. And these.” He rolls away from me to pick something up from the floor on his side of the bed. He rolls back and dumps the objects on the rumpled duvet beside me. I look at them for a few seconds, recognizing
immediately what they are. Butt plugs. Three of them, vaguely bullet-shaped but somewhat larger. They could almost be mistaken for children’s toys in their bright, primary colors and made from a smooth rubber-like material, but these are intended for much more adult playtimes. The smallest is bright red, about the diameter of my thumb. The yellow one is bigger, Nick’s thumb possibly. The blue one is quite a bit bigger, but without direct comparison I can’t be sure that it’s actually the size of his cock. Not far off, though. I glance back at him, wide-eyed.
“I’m going to fuck your arse. Soon. It might feel strange, at first, but I won’t hurt you.” His tone is firm, uncompromising. He’s quite, quite certain how this is going to go. And I find his confidence oddly reassuring as he explains the plan.
“You need to be able to accept this—it’s a core part of your submissive’s training. A Dom will expect to make use of all your orifices, everything your body has to offer. You’re new to this, but I’m not. We’ll use plenty of lube, and you’ll probably quite like that bit. And we’ll practice with these. You’ll be able to get used to me touching you, handling you, looking at you. Putting things inside you. And taking them out. You’ll learn to hold still, to relax, and to bear down when I tell you to. Once you’ve got all that, the rest is easy. Then comes the really fun part.”
I gulp, and swallow, aware that my mouth is dry. I’m not sure if it’s the explicit picture he’s painting for me, or the thought of what’s about to happen, but I’m battling a contrary mix of emotions. Nervous apprehension tangles with clenching lust. Excitement and curiosity war with my admittedly dwindling sense of modesty. He’s seen my anus, explored it already. I vividly recall the heady sense of connection I experienced as he worked his finger inside me whilst I leaned across my car bonnet on the shores of Wastwater. This will be like that, just…more.
“Do you have any questions just now?”
I shake my head. “Good. We’ll take it slow this first time—you’ll have plenty of opportunities to talk to me if you need to. Now, do you want to use the loo? Take a shower before we start?”
