by Opal Carew
Ben’s eyes flared with heat at the sight of the dress Sarah had chosen. The Retreat was formal, and she’d relished the chance to buy a couple of new gala evening dresses. The long, slim, black velvet shift clung subtly to her body, skimming over her curves, caressing her breasts and particularly her bottom. As she admired her reflection and saw, in the glass, Ben doing the same, she wondered if the choice of dress was prescient. Displaying the shape of her buttocks to advantage had suddenly acquired a deep significance.
She wasn’t sore any more, just sensitized. Aware.
“You look very lovely…” Ben’s voice was low, intense. His eyes flickered from her face, to her breasts, and finally to her bottom. Where they lingered.
You don’t look so bad yourself, she wanted to say. In fact, in her eyes, he looked beautiful too.
His evening jacket was the epitome of elegance—long, dark, and vintage. At his throat, he wore an Edwardian cravat and a high collar. He looked dramatic, mysterious, male… heartbreakingly wonderful.
“I have something for you.” He advanced, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, leather-covered box.
Jewelry. She hadn’t expected jewelry. Her heart fluttered.
Ben flipped open the box and Sarah gasped.
It was a pendant, simple but breathtaking. A softly gleaming cultured pearl on a delicate gold chain. Understated, rare, hypnotic—just like the man who offered it to her.
“I… I wasn’t expecting a gift… This weekend is so perfect as it is… I don’t know what to say…”
The exquisite, silky jewel almost seemed to throb on its bed of blue velvet. She daren’t reach out for it. She wasn’t sure if she deserved it.
“You don’t have to say anything. You just have to wear it,” Ben said quietly, taking the pearl from its box and walking around behind her. Quickly, and in the deft, efficient way he did everything, he fastened it around her throat, then returned to face her again, reaching out to position the pendant to his exact liking, nestled in the deep V of her neckline, between her breasts. “This is the least I could give you… the very least. This is nothing compared to the gift you gave me a little while ago.” He reached out again, adjusting the set of the gem, his neatly manicured nails brushing the bare skin of one breast.
“What gift?” What was he talking about? What had she given him?
As if he’d heard her thought, he said, “Perfect submission, my beloved. The gift of your body, to do with as I wanted… Allowing me to spank you and hurt you. That’s something very precious that many women won’t agree to.”
But I enjoyed it! I really did! she wanted to say. The words wouldn’t come out though, she was so dumbstruck by the pearl, the word beloved and by him.
Instead, she just smiled and murmured, “thank you,” and reached over to give him a kiss on the cheek, her lips brushing the edge of his immaculately barbered beard. This he seemed to understand and accept, and he gave her a strange little smile, then said, “Let’s go down to dinner, eh?”
Descending the hotel’s grand staircase and entering the dining room, Sarah felt like a princess, both in her own right and as the companion of the handsome and distinguished man at her side. Ben had all the presence and confidence of a crown prince, and The Retreat had somehow become his principality.
Women stared at him in blatant, slack-jawed hunger, and Sarah couldn’t blame them. His charisma outshone that of every other man in the room.
And it wasn’t just Ben.
She felt transformed herself, from a moderately pretty young woman into a gorgeous goddess of sex and decadence. The faint glow in her bottom had found a way to transmute itself into a more all-pervading radiance. She felt truly beautiful, completely and irresistibly desirable, for the first time in her life. And the men were goggling at her just as avidly and with just as much famished covetousness as the women were staring at Ben.
You can look, but you’ll never get to touch, she told them, her head held high and her hips swaying as she walked. Only he gets to touch. Only he can stroke my breasts or fondle my pussy… or lay his hands on the curves of my bottom.
They were shown to a prime table by the window, looking out onto The Retreat’s handsome park and the sky, which was full of drama and streaked with gold and midnight blue. The setting, the atmosphere, the man, could not have been more romantic.
Or more sensual.
The food they were served was delightful, but it was Ben that Sarah truly hungered for. She watched his long, clever hands as he ate, and imagined them on her, wreaking havoc with both spanks of pain and strokes of sensual bliss. He was so astonishing and so different from any of the other men she’d ever known that she wanted to fall down on her knees, crawl between his, and give him oral pleasure, right there in the dining room.
He was a god to her. He was worth it. She loved him.
They enjoyed their dinner, they chatted and they laughed. In fact, even though she was so besotted with her companion that she could barely see straight, it suddenly dawned on her that even though they weren’t fucking or playing spanking games, they were still having the best possible time.
Ben was funny. He was knowledgeable on many topics but modest in the way he spoke of them. He listened, too, drawing words and experiences out of her, his dark eyes intent with an interest that was shiningly genuine.
He’s the one.
The words were simple but true. He was the man she’d been waiting for, and all of a sudden, she was desperate to give him all the gifts he deserved. In her mind’s eye she saw herself draped over the table between them, across its pristine napery while he lifted the skirt of her black dress and exposed her bottom. Because the gown fit closely and plunged too low to permit a bra, she’d decided to give knickers a miss too. He’d be able to touch her immediately and spank her. Hard. She had a feeling he might enjoy putting on quite a performance for the sexually sophisticated patrons of The Retreat.
Snapping back to reality, she found Ben’s brown eyes upon her and full of fire. Could he read her mind? It seemed increasingly clear that he could. He was looking at her as if he was fully ready to do exactly the things she’d been imagining.
So it was no surprise when he softly asked, “Are you wearing panties, Sarah?”
“N…no… No, I’m not.”
His mouth curved into a joyous smile, and he rolled his eyes. “Oh, you’ve done it now… I won’t be able to stop thinking about what’s under your beautiful dress.” He tapped the table lightly with his fingertips and then reached for his wineglass and took a minute sip. “And imagining your pussy and your sumptuous bottom bare beneath the velvet. Oh, God, how I’d love to spank you again now!”
For a man so controlled, he was almost incendiary. His eyes flashed and there was a touch of hot pink high on his cheekbones. Normally almost preternaturally still, he shifted slightly in his seat, and Sarah realized he was adjusting his position to ease his erection. It was a good job his stylish Edwardian coat was fairly long.
“I’d love to tease and taunt you until you were half out of your mind… pleasure… pain… pain… pleasure.” He reached out and took her hand. “Did you see that box of sex toys back in our room?”
She nodded, her entire body shaking.
His eyes glinted. “I wish I had them here now… I’d like to peel down the front of your dress and play with your nipples, then adorn them with little silver clamps…” Beneath the velvet, the little crests he spoke of hardened agonizingly. “And between your legs… oh, between your legs… I’d like to fill you up… plug your pussy and your bottom with dildos, spank you really, really hard, then bring you off mercilessly with a vibrator.”
I’m going to faint. I’m going to faint.
He was outrageous, and what he described was beyond her experience, way beyond it. But dear God, she wanted it, suddenly, every bit of it.
She wanted to be his toy, flesh to be played with and tested, for his pleasure.
“Does my talk excite you… o
r horrify you?”
His eyes were intent and very serious for a moment, and she found it difficult to answer their challenge. She was excited, very much so, but also quite scared and nervous, astonished by her own reaction as much as anything.
“I’m excited… I think… it’s all so new to me.”
It’d come out, without conscious thought, the truth.
His fingers smoothed over the back of her hand, and he looked at her more quizzically, his head tilted. The glittering light in the dining room made his hair shine like mahogany. “Would you like to learn more? Do you dare to?”
She could say “no,” she knew that. She could play it safe, and she knew he’d be kind and courteous and show no disappointment. He was that kind of man.
But inside she was a seething volcano of desire and need and confusion, and she could only be settled by knowledge, and experience, and the touch of this wonderful lover.
“Yes! Yes, I do!”
Ben glanced over the table and the remains of their meal and the wine they’d barely drunk. “Are you still hungry?”
“Not for any of this.” She inclined her head, matching his look, then reached beneath the table, plucked the napkin from her lap, and then dropped it on her side plate.
“Good girl!” Ben’s smile was beatific as he helped her from her seat and led her across the dining room. All eyes were on them again, as if the assembled diners, anticipating outrageous pleasures of their own, were fully aware of what was ahead of her.
They went up in the small, slightly antiquated lift this time, and the moment the doors closed on them, Ben was upon her. He backed her tightly up against the mirrored wall of the cab and began to kiss her, hard, his tongue pushing into her mouth while his hands plucked at her skirt, raising it up. Totally intoxicated, Sarah wondered vaguely whether there was a CCTV camera, but she was beyond really caring. Especially when Ben’s hand went unerringly between her legs and he began to stroke her in time to the thrusts of his tongue.
By the time they reached the second floor, she was already teetering on the edge of orgasm, and he waited until the last microsecond before the doors slid open to let her skirt drop and stop kissing her senseless. As it was, a couple waiting for the lift gave them a long, knowing look as Ben led her out onto the landing, and murmured, “Good evening.”
And it was hardly surprising, she realized, knowing she must appear all flustered and disheveled and that her cheeks were no doubt pink with confused desire.
She wasn’t sure how she got to the room without stumbling, except that she knew if she had faltered, Ben would probably have swept her up into his arms and carried her. His lean strength made him more than capable of doing so.
Eventually though, they were behind closed doors. Alone.
With the box of sex toys and Ben’s imagination.
Not to mention hers…
Immediately, he kissed her again, even harder if that were possible. And all the time his hands roamed her body, exploring and squeezing through the velvet of her dress. With his tongue subduing hers, he eased the neckline of her dress down and bared one breast, then vigorously kneaded the soft orb while he conquered her mouth.
Sarah moaned and whimpered in her throat. She was beyond all previous limits of arousal and excitement, scared of her own rampaging hunger and the delicious, erotic torments that lay ahead. Between her legs, her pussy was beating like a heart.
“You’re sublime,” Ben proclaimed, abandoning her lips and tracking his mouth down over her face, her neck, her shoulder, and down to her exposed breast. Then he sucked intensely on her nipple, flicking it with his tongue at the same time, and the shock and sensation of it almost made her come.
She let out a sharp cry when, just as suddenly as he’d besieged her breast, he let her go again and took a step away from her, creating distance.
Slipping his hands into his pockets, he softly commanded, “Take off your dress.”
Trembling like a willow, she made to step out of her high heels, but he stopped her. “Oh no, keep the shoes on… I think you’ll look delicious in high heels and your pendant and nothing else.”
Unzipping the frock, Sarah peeled it off and draped it over a chair, acutely conscious of the heightened state of her nakedness. Her nipples were hard as stones and dark, oh so dark, and her upper thighs were already shiny with the flow of her arousal.
When Ben issued no further commands, she just stood there. Nude. Shaking. Aroused. Waiting. He walked around her, in a circle, perusing her.
“Exquisite…,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, then, when he was behind her, he drew something that jingled out of the pocket of his coat. A second later, he reached for one of her hands, then the other, and like a magician, shackled them together in the pair of handcuffs she’d seen earlier in the box.
A jolt of pure, clear, terrified excitement pelted through Sarah’s body, bouncing and rebounding off her every erogenous zone. He could do anything to her now, absolutely anything, and the idea of that made her arousal thicken and seep even more.
But then, while she was still reeling, he pulled a second item from his pocket.
And the impression of an illusionist was compounded even further when a black silk scarf appeared to unravel and unravel and unravel as if it were part of a trick. He held it by two corners as if she were the audience and he was showing it to her, then rolled it up and secured it around her head, covering her eyes.
In total blackness, she moaned, and not solely from desire. The reality of this game was so much more intense than any fantasy of it.
Again he circled around her, but this time she could only tell where he was from the faint sound of his steps on the thick carpet. What was he looking at? What was he planning? What was he going to do to her? She thought of some of the items she’d seen in the wicker toy box and her head went light.
And then she felt his breath on the back of her neck.
Oh God, she’d lost track of him and somehow not even sensed he was so close. How could that be, when everything about him obsessed her?
His fingertips settled on her flank as his lips touched the side of her throat. His hand brushed the side of hers where it was caught at the small of her back, then cruised on down to cup her buttock and squeeze it, assessing its weight much as he’d assessed her breast a minute or two ago.
He held her lightly, just under her chin, rubbing his bearded face in her hair while the tips of his fingers explored the rounds of her bottom, then slipped into the soft cleft between them.
He tickled and probed, toying with the sensitive rosette again and again. Sarah felt as if she was going to faint with lust, astonished lust, because she’d never really enjoyed this kind of play before. With a lesser man she’d be troubled by it, but with Ben, she embraced it and relished it, pushing her bottom toward the source of the stimulation.
“Do you like that?”
Already blushing, Sarah felt hot blood well in her face again. To admit that… that she liked it, oh, it was so embarrassing, even with him, the man she had really come to believe she could tell anything.
“Do you like it?” he persisted, not crossly but in infinitely teasing tones. He was so in tune with her, he clearly knew what such an admission would cost her, especially when he rubbed more firmly, pushing wickedly against the little entrance.
“Yes…”
“Tell me then… Say the words…”
Sarah whimpered in the darkness as he plagued her, flicking and teasing. He was the devil, yet at the same time a prince of love.
“I l…like it when you touch my bottom and stroke me there…”
“There?”
“Oh, Ben, I can’t!”
He laughed, highly amused, but somehow also kind. “Very well, my love… we’ll take that as read, shall we?” He paused, his fingertip resting right on the aperture. “But I think we should do something about that before I spank you, don’t you?”
Do what? Do what? Her mind ranged over h
is threats, his promises at the dining table, and she mewed with fear and longing. Ben seemed to take that as read because before she could form a coherent observation on the matter, he gently manhandled her until she was facedown on the coverlet, her bound hands resting at the small of her back. A few moments later, after some further rustling in the fearfully stocked toy box, he returned to where she lay and sat down beside her, placing the flat of his hand lightly on her thigh.
“Now, this may feel a little strange to you, my darling, but you mustn’t panic. Just stay calm and relax, and you’ll enjoy it more than you can possibly imagine.”
Sarah could imagine quite a lot, and she wasn’t completely convinced that what she was more or less certain lay ahead was actually enjoyable.
And how do you know? Have you tried it yourself?
The image flashed immediately into her mind, and she moaned aloud again at the way it made her sex flutter.
“Now… now… Don’t fuss,” instructed Ben, his voice almost merry somehow.
And well he might be amused, thought Sarah a moment later, suppressing her groans as he began to slather the groove of her bottom with something cool and wet and very silky, a lubricant gel of some kind that he administered abundantly to the cleft between her cheeks.
Then it began, the slow, infernal pressure upon her arse as he pushed what she could only assume was one of the dildos or sex-plugs inside her.
It felt huge. Unforgiving. Unyielding. Her body resisted it, and Ben paused to apply more lubricant. Much more lubricant.
She keened and groaned, but he soothed her with his soft voice, murmuring sweet nothings, wordless encouragements, as if she were a naughty child being coaxed into taking her medicine.
And yet despite the shattering, dangerous sensations, her arousal began to rise and rise and rise, all wound around the ancient and mortifying subconscious guilt that she shouldn’t be enjoying anything to do with that part of her body.
The little aperture was stubborn, but in a different strategy, Ben reached around under her and began to caress her as he pushed firmly on the plug.
