by Ashe Barker
I’m glad of it, though I know better than to expect this mood to last. But for now I’ll enjoy Nick the gentle lover. And he’s right in a way. It definitely did have sparkle. I respond by burying my nose in the crook of his neck and kissing him. He squeezes me, seems to get my message. And suddenly he rolls over again, dragging me with him and placing me underneath him. He reaches down and grabs my thighs, pushes them wide and upwards so my knees are on either side of my chest.
“Now for the fucking till you see stars bit. Are you okay to continue?”
Daft question, but nice of him to ask. I nod, not even able to raise my eyelids as the very last tremors of my climax continue to trickle through me. My whole body feels limp, pliable, his to use as he wants. As I want. I gasp soundlessly as he drives his cock inside me, deep and fast. I feel full, impossibly stretched around his hard cock and the solid bulk of the butt plug.
He allows me a few moments to adjust to this now double intrusion then starts to thrust. His movements are smooth, his angle perfectly judged to hit my very well used G-spot every time. He leans over me, his fingers interlaced with mine as he pins my hands on either side of my head. My legs are firmly wedged between our two bodies, and I am fully open to him.
I gasp as, impossibly, my body starts to convulse again.
“Am I hurting you?” he murmurs into my ear, only slightly slowing the speed of his thrusts as he waits for my response. I close my eyes tight and shake my head, praying he won’t stop. My pussy is doing my talking for me, squeezing and spasming around him, my arse also joining in the general fun and merriment as I thrash my head from side to side in near total abandonment now. This is so…intense. So totally exquisite. I arch my back, attempting to match his thrusts but unable to move at all in my current position. Nick realizes, feels my struggles for freedom and unusually for him decides to allow it. He leans back slightly to release my legs. I press with my heels against the floor and start to match his frantic pace, gyrating my hips to increase the friction. Remembering the general assumption of permission I wriggle my left hand free and reach down between our bodies to rub my clit. I feel his smile against my ear as he whispers, “Allow me…”
My fingers are replaced by his and the sensations intensify again. I’m getting good, but I’m no match, none at all for Nick’s easy expertise. In moments my orgasm is punching its way through my body once more. Less powerful than the climax of just a few minutes earlier I feel to be spinning again, weightless, in some sort of giddy orbit as I fly. And Nick is not far behind me. His muffled, “Christ, girl, you’re so fucking hot,” comes just before he thrusts deep and hard then holds still, his cock nudging my cervix as he pumps his warm semen into my body. I can feel the heat from it, and I manage to wrap my legs around him and hook my ankles in the small of his back, as if I could hold him there forever.
I wish.
Chapter Ten
The following morning I wake up in Nick’s bed. Unusually, he’s still asleep, his arm looped carelessly across me, his face buried deep in the pillow. I turn to look at him, enjoying this rare moment when I can study his chiseled perfection.
He hasn’t said, but I’d estimate him to be around thirty-three, maybe a little younger. But still a good ten years or more older than I am. Is that too much? I don’t think so. Does he? Unless I can get him to reconsider his current position it’ll hardly be relevant. I roll onto my back, gazing up at the ceiling. I’m almost halfway through my month here. I have just sixteen days, and nights, to convince Nick that I could be a permanent feature. Not that I mean to move in exactly. I have my own place, I like it there. But I want to come back here. Often. I want to spend time with Nick, scene with him. I want him to spend time with me, at my apartment. At the Collar maybe. I know we’re good together, he’s a wonderful Dom and even if I do say so myself I’m not turning out too badly as a submissive. The sex isn’t a problem, we’re both off the scale kinky. I love the things he does to me, even the punishments if I’m honest. Well, apart from that time with the nipple clamps, but I don’t intend to let that become a regular occurrence.
What then? What’s missing? What do I need to do to be able to keep him?
* * * *
An hour later I’m in the dining room putting the finishing touches to a square for my fox quilt when Nick appears in the doorway. He’s wearing his jeans from last night and a sexy smile. I smile back, and get up to fetch him some coffee even though he hasn’t asked me to. I like doing things for him. He follows me into the kitchen, watching as I refill the kettle.
“How long have you been up?” His pre-coffee morning voice is more of a growl. I love it.
I turn to sign my answer, “An hour or so. You looked peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb you. Did I tire you out last night?”
He shakes his head, grinning broadly. “Cheeky wench. You need a reminder about respect, I think. Is your bottom bare under that robe?”
I nod. “Good. Get over here then.”
He pulls out a chair from under the kitchen table and seats himself on it, facing me. I approach him cautiously. He seems to be in a good mood and a spanking is usually nice. I think a ‘good morning’ spanking might be the nicest start to the day I can imagine. As long as he’s in a good mood…
His wink settles the matter, and I lay myself across his lap happily. He lifts the back of my short kimono robe to reveal my buttocks, and caresses my bottom firmly with the palm of his hand. He does this, ostensibly, to get the blood flowing nicely ready for my spanking, but it feels so good that I could almost purr. Almost, but I’d need vocal chords that actually work for that. I settle instead for rubbing my cheek against the leg of his soft denim jeans, then clutch them tightly as the first stroke lands on my right cheek.
It smarts, but it feels wonderful. I wriggle against him, settling my body across his as I relax into this. He spanks me again, on the left cheek this time. Then again on the right. He continues, alternating sides, until I know my entire bum is red with his handprints. Then he stops. I wriggle again, not yet ready to finish.
“Do you want more?”
I nod, but there’s no response, no satisfying resumption of the spanking. Instead, “I didn’t catch that, my little slut. Was that a yes?”
I nod again, more vigorously, and now he gets it.
“Ah, right. And would you like it a little harder perhaps?” This time I let go of his jeans to extend my hand, which I rock in a non-committal but maybe sort of signal.
“Well, let’s not waste your enthusiasm then. I think we might experiment with the cane. What do you say?”
I turn my head and look up at him, my enthusiasm ebbing away fast. We’ve not tried caning, but I’ve read about it. I know it ranks up there with the most severe activities, and is not to everyone’s taste. I have a suspicion it won’t be to mine either, but by this stage in my submissive journey I know I ought to at least try it.
“Well, Freya? Shall we?”
He helps me to stand up, and despite my commitment to develop as a submissive I shrug doubtfully.
“Try it. Then if you really can’t tolerate caning at least you’ll know to put it on your hard limits list in the future. As a submissive you have choices, and you don’t have to do anything you really don’t like. But while you’re here, and I’m training you, I want you to experience as much as I can offer you. So, will you do it?”
I nod, privately thinking that I’ll be safe wording probably before he’s even got the cane warmed up. Of all the implements he’s used on me—and my repertoire is by now fairly extensive—from what I’ve read the cane is just vile. I’m convinced the pain will be excruciating, and I can’t even start to imagine how any sub would be able to endure it for more than a couple of strokes. I saw plenty of caning taking place in the dungeon at the Collar, so I know that at least in theory it is tolerable. Just not for me. Perhaps it was my unfortunate experience with the nameless Dom I experimented with before Nick, the Dom who caned my hands, but whatever the reason I ful
ly expect to hate it.
Odd, then, that I’m prepared to go through with it, just because he asked me nicely.
“Would you prefer to stay here, or go into the dungeon?”
“Here, please.” Who knows, maybe a change of scene will help…
He smiles at me. “Don’t look so worried. You can always use your wristband. Now, go to the dungeon and choose a cane. Bring it in here.”
I trot off obediently, and select a thin, light weight cane from the rack on the dungeon wall. I make my way back along the carpeted hallway, my bare feet sinking into the thick pile. I return to the kitchen to find Nick helping himself to more coffee and stuffing slices of wholemeal bread into the toaster. He seems to have developed a taste for healthier eating, so maybe my presence here has done him some lasting good.
He turns as I re-enter the room and glances at the cane. “Good choice. Very—courageous. If you can manage that one you’ll be all right with anything. Do you want some toast?”
Toast! Courageous! I drop the cane onto the table and sink into my chair. He waves a piece of toast at me, and I shake my head weakly.
“Why courageous? I don’t feel at all courageous.”
He takes his seat opposite me, the plate of toast now buttered and on the table between us. He picks a piece up and takes a bite before answering.
“The slimmer and the more supple the cane, the sharper the sting. Thicker ones deliver more of a heavy, thudding sort of stroke. More likely to bruise but less painful at the time. Depends how it’s used of course, and on the skill of the Dom. I know you find this difficult so I’ll be taking it very easy. I just want you to accept, say, five strokes. Do you think you could manage that?”
Five strokes. Not much, hardly anything really. My confidence lifts a little, especially as I know he can, will pull his punches. And I have no doubt at all regarding the skill of my Dom. If anyone can get me past this hurdle, it’s Nick Hardisty.
I nod. “I think I could manage five, as long as you don’t hit me too hard.”
He chuckles as he shoves the last of his toast into his mouth and swills it down with a slug of coffee. “Wimp. Okay then, over the table, I think. Would you take off your robe please?”
How polite. I slip my arms out of my kimono and drape it over the arm of my chair. Nick meanwhile clears his plate and coffee cup away then gestures to me to arrange myself across the table in the space he’s made. Dutifully I lean over, reaching for the opposite edge as I position myself for a very unwelcome caning.
Nick picks up the cane, swishes it through the air a couple of times to get the feel of it. I flinch each time I hear the ominous whisper, and steel myself to just get through this somehow.
“Are you ready, Freya?”
I signal ‘Yes’ with a thumbs up, feeling distinctly sick now. I’m glad I didn’t brave the toast.
“Remember, stop me any time.”
I brace, and he swings. The first stroke is agony, as I knew it would be. I jerk violently, my breathe whooshing out. Nick waits, allowing me time to breathe in and out a few times before he continues.
“And again.” His warning gives me a moment to prepare, and it helps. Slightly. But not enough to make this anywhere near bearable.
“Freya? Again?”
I somehow manage the thumbs up sign once more, and the third strike lands. It’s enough. No more. I raise my right hand to signal ‘red’.
“Okay, sweetheart. We’re done.” He places the cane back on the table, and when I would have started to rise he lays his palm gently on my back. “Let me put some Arnica on there, take the sting out a bit.”
I remain still, sighing slightly as he smears the soothing cream across my smarting backside. Only three strokes, but it was enough. More than enough.
Nick apparently thinks so too. “I reckon that needs to be one of your hard limits with any future Dom. Agreed?”
Oddly, I don’t want to agree. Make no mistake, I hate being caned, but I did manage three strokes this time. Maybe next time I could handle one more. Then maybe one more after that. I hate safe wording as well. It makes me feel defeated, and I never accept defeat readily. So maybe another time…?
I shake my head as I push myself back into a standing position. “No hard limits. Not yet. I’ll do four next time, then maybe five. Do you think I could…?”
He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Your decision, sweetheart. Now, have you had enough fun for one morning or would you like me to finish that spanking I so rudely interrupted.”
I consider that kind offer for a moment, then, “Can I have ten minutes please?”
He smiles again. “Of course.” He picks up the discarded cane. “I’ll just take this back to the dungeon. Follow me down there when you’re ready.”
* * * *
Exactly ten minutes later Nick’s seated in the straight-backed chair in the dungeon, and I’m draped happily across his knees.
“Ready, little subbie?”
I give my thumbs up sign once more, with considerably more enthusiasm than when I was bent over the kitchen table.
“Okay. Enjoy.” He starts the spanking again, very gently at first and managing to avoid the three welts where the cane landed. I do appreciate his care, and sigh contentedly as the feeling builds again. As I settle in, he firms up the pressure, the spanks becoming slightly harder, and faster. I have no chance to recover from each blow before the next one lands. My bottom is on fire, but still I’m loving it. I know I can’t keep this up for long, though, especially after the caning.
It’s intense and soon the pain starts to radiate and overwhelm other sensations, and even the endorphins swilling around my system can’t combat that forever. Finely attuned to my responses, Nick slows down, and stops.
“Enough now?”
This time I nod, and he makes no pretense of not seeing me. Instead, “Open your legs, Freya. And remember, my cock’s not inside you. We have rules now.”
Shit. I’m so aroused I could come just thinking about it, I reckon, and now he intends to make me wait for God knows how long. Still, I open my legs dutifully and he slips his fingers into my moist, warm pussy.
“Mmm, lovely. You’re nice and wet this morning. Very fuckable. I like that.”
Two fingers plunging deep inside me demonstrate just how fuckable I clearly am, and he amuses himself by spreading the wetness all over my lips and clit. I think it’s fair to say I find the whole thing distinctly amusing too, and I have to chew on my bottom lip as I try to concentrate on somehow containing my pleasure and not succumbing too quickly. I doubt he’ll want to drag this out, he hasn’t even finished his breakfast yet, but you never know with Nick Hardisty.
He shifts his attention to my clit, taking it between his finger and thumb and tugging slightly. He squeezes, and it’s uncomfortable. Not painful, but it’s enough to damp down my arousal.
“Shall we play with the clit clips again later, little slut? Maybe if you’re very good today and do exactly as I tell you?”
I nod again, still not sure if he can see me or not. And I’m wondering what I’ll need to do to earn my reward. What he’ll tell me to do. As far as I know we’ve exhausted the main repertoire of pain play and now it’s just details, trying different implements and activities, different positions. I also know, because he explained to me carefully, that he’ll push me to my limits, force me to use my safe signals because he wants to be sure that I can, and that I will.
He changes his grip on my clit, and now he’s rolling it between his finger and thumb. Now this I do like. And no amount of lip chewing is going to stave off the inevitable for long. Sure enough, a few seconds later I feel the first unmistakable clench of my pussy as my body prepares to climax. Nick feels it too, and drops a warning slap onto my unsuspecting bum. Not hard, but given the tender state of my bottom just now, it hurts.
“Not until I give you permission. Keep still, and wait.”
He continues to work on my clit, rolling and tugging and rubbing,
until I’m gripping his ankles in my desperation, mashing the fabric of his jeans between my fingers.
“If there’s something you want to ask me, you know how.”
Christ, is it really that simple? How could I forget that? I tap his leg three times, and his chuckle is low, sexy and utterly wonderful.
“Go for it, little slut. Enjoy.”
And I do.
* * * *
“What other plans do you have for me today?”
We’re back in the kitchen, Nick now on his fourth cup of coffee and I’ve worked up an appetite at last so I’m rustling up some toasted bagels. I lean back against the worktop as I wait for the toaster. He glances up at me, his expression serious.
“You can have the rest of the morning off, get on with your sewing or whatever. Take a walk if you like. This afternoon I want you in the dungeon and ready for some intense action. We’ll be pushing your boundaries even further today, Freya, so don’t expect to like it much. And afterwards, we’ll talk.”
“Talk? We’re always talking. Why today especially?”
“You’ll want to talk later, I’m sure of it. If only to tell me I’m a heartless bastard and you hate my guts.”
I stare at him, astonished. What on earth has he in mind for me? Then, my hands flying now as he’s honed his skills enough to follow me, “If I ever called you names like that I’d not sit down for a week.” I attempt to smile, but he’s not having it.
“I’m never unfair when I punish you, I hope. And I need you to express your feelings honestly, especially today. So later, Freya, we will talk. And you’ll have my permission on this occasion to call me any names you think fit.”
By mutual but unspoken consent we spend our mornings in different parts of the house. I go back into the dining room and occupy myself with foxes and fabrics while Nick has his laptop and some papers spread out on the kitchen table. I occasionally wander in to refresh my Earl Grey levels, and Nick brings me in a chicken salad baguette for lunch but goes back into the kitchen to eat his alone.
I’m nervous. Very nervous. The atmosphere between us is charged, something here is not right, but I’ve no idea what’s going on. He’s obviously planning something very heavy, probably unpleasant, definitely designed to challenge me, to confront some remaining inhibition perhaps. As far as I’m aware I have absolutely no inhibitions left, none whatsoever.
