by Serena Dahl
“You don’t have to be lacking in intelligence to want to connect with your friends,” I point out.
“Well, whatever. As long as it makes you happy.”
“So, are you looking forward to seeing my parents?” I change the subject.
“Yeah, I like your folks. They seemed really nice when I met them in hospital. And it was obvious how much they cared about you.”
“I think you made a good impression on them, too.” I smile as I remember the beautiful flowers Adam brought me and how Mum sang his praises.
We’re entering Cherry Hinton now so I give Adam the last directions to my mum and dad’s place, and he pulls up in the drive. Mum has thoughtfully parked her car on the road to make space for Adam’s Mercedes next to Dad’s Citroen Picasso. Adam’s beautiful car looks strangely incongruous parked outside my parents’ house.
They were obviously waiting and watching for us, because as soon as we out of the car Mum and Dad are coming out of the front door to greet us. We don’t even have to ring the doorbell. Mum hugs me gingerly, asking if I’m all okay now, and I feel a telltale blush rising as I assure her that I’m fine. What she doesn’t know is that although I’ve healed from the car accident, Adam left livid bruises on my bottom with the riding crop and they still haven’t completely healed.
Adam is shaking Dad’s hand. “Good to see you again, Frank.” Then Dad envelops me in a bear hug as Adam kisses Mum’s cheek and hands her a bouquet of lilies.
“Oh, they’re beautiful, Adam,” she beams. “Thank you. Come on into the house and I’ll put them in some water.”
We go into the house and Mum tells us all to sit down in the living room. Dad has already engaged Adam in a lively conversation about his car, establishing that it’s a Roadster, and is expressing surprise at the miles per gallon he can get out of the SLK. I grin as I listen to them immediately form a connection through such a stereotypical male conversational topic.
When Mum brings in some tea and coffee, still wearing her kitchen apron, Adam politely changes the subject and we relax back on the sofa together, everything feeling very natural and comfortable. I guess with the good impression Adam made on Mum and Dad when he looked after me at the time of the accident, they were always going to approve of him. What on earth would they think if they knew about our sadomasochistic sex life?
My parents ask Adam about his own family, and he tells them about his parents, who live in a remote barn conversion near the border with Wales. They ask about siblings and he describes his older brothers, George and Clive.
“Clive’s the one who worries my parents,” he explains. “I don’t know if it’s middle child syndrome or just co-incidence. But George is fine – just married a few months ago, and his wife is really lovely. She’s already expecting their first child. Clive’s a different kettle of fish entirely.” Adam puts his hand on my thigh in a relaxed but proprietorial gesture, as if to say, this is my woman. It feels very natural, as if his hand belongs there, resting gently on my leg. I can feel the warmth of his touch through my jeans.
“Oh, so what’s Clive like then?” asks Mum.
“Well, he’s already divorced at thirty-one,” Adam starts. “He had the shortest marriage in history. Came back from their honeymoon and announced that they’d split up.”
“Oh, no, how awful,” comments my mother. “How on earth did that happen?”
“Well, he said he’d had doubts before the actual marriage, but he just put it down to wedding nerves. But then afterwards, apparently, he realised he’d made a massive mistake. So he decided he had to tell her, not just put up with it and end up getting divorced after they’d had children. He thought at least then she’d be young enough to meet someone else and be happy with another man.”
“I’ve never heard anything like it,” says Mum, shaking her head.
“What was the girl like, then?” asks Dad.
“She was lovely, actually,” he replies. “I don’t know how Clive could have done that to her. You can imagine how heartbroken she was. And her parents, apparently, hit the roof. They’d just spent thousands on the wedding and it only lasted three weeks.”
“Oh, I can imagine,” says Dad with a grimace. It’s clear he has every sympathy with the father in this story.
“Still, although she was really nice,” Adam continues, “I never really felt she was right for Clive. He’s had a couple of other girlfriends since then, but I don’t think it’s been anything serious.”
“And what does he do, Adam?” my father asks.
“Not much,” confides Adam with a rueful smile. “He supposedly works in IT as a contractor, but he’s been out of work for a while now. So he’s drawing benefits, and living in a village three miles away from our parents. In a little cottage with a broken washing machine. So Mum’s there every other day picking up and putting away his washing, and putting little dishes of lasagne and casserole in his fridge to make sure he gets a good dinner.”
“No!” I exclaim. Adam’s told me the story of Clive’s lightning divorce before, but I haven’t heard this bit. “How old did you say he is, thirty-one? And he’s got your mum doing his cooking and washing for him?”
“I told you he was a bit of a nightmare,” grins Adam. “Good job you’ve got the responsible brother, hey?”
“Too right,” agrees my father emphatically.
Presently Mum goes through to the kitchen to check on the roast, and shortly afterwards she calls Dad through to carve the beef. Alone together, I turn to Adam. “Okay?” I check with him.
“Fine,” he smiles. “Hungry. That beef smells amazing.”
“Me too, I’m starving. I think they’ve bought a rib especially for you,” I confide. “You should count yourself lucky. They usually serve me brisket.”
“I’m honoured,” he laughs. Then he loses his smile, and his face turns serious. “I suppose you think because you’re in your parents house I’m going to go easy on you tonight,” he says in a low voice.
I glance at the door, reassured that it’s shut. “You can’t do anything kinky to me here,” I reply, anxious. “Adam, please tell me you don’t have anything like that in mind. Our bedroom’s just across from Mum and Dad.”
“You’ll just have to see, won’t you?” he replies, a wicked glint in his eye.
“Adam, you’d better not,” I warn him. “Seriously, I mean it.”
“Don’t worry,” he smiles, but I’m not very reassured. “I won’t be making any noise. So it’s up to you to make sure you don’t either.”
Just then Mum calls us through to lunch, and Adam follows me through to the dining room. The table is laden with a huge serving platter of beef surrounded by potatoes and Yorkshire pudding, alongside several dishes of vegetables and a steaming jug of rich gravy.
A couple of minutes ago I couldn’t wait for Mum’s roast. But now I think I might struggle to eat a decent plateful. Adam’s promise – or threat – for tonight seems to have ruined my appetite.
******
“ALONE AT LAST,” SAYS ADAM AS he shuts the bedroom door behind him.
We’re in my old bedroom. Luckily it’s not how it used to look when I was a teenager - that old poster of the classic Guns’N’Roses album Appetite for Destruction would look a little incongruous now. Mum redecorated after I graduated and became settled in Oxford, turning it into a nice guest bedroom. They replaced my old single bed with a double one, so there’s not much space now, but there’s enough room for someone who’s just staying for a night or two.
I sit down on the bed and unzip the holdall I brought, containing my overnight things, and pull out my nightdress. Then Adam sits next to me.
“I’m don’t think you’ll be needing that,” he tells me, and then his arms are around me, drawing me in for a kiss.
“Hmm,” I pull away. “I think if I have to get up and go to the bathroom in the night, I ought to wear something. I don’t want to give Dad a shock.”
“Well, you certainly don’t need it
now.” He kisses me again, slowly and languorously, and I feel a thrill of pleasure course through my body. I’m on tenterhooks waiting to see what he’s got planned for tonight.
Adam caresses my hair gently as we kiss, then lets his hand travel down in a leisurely fashion until it rests on my breast. I’m touching his chest, feeling the firm muscles through the fabric of his shirt, and I arch my body further towards him as he unfastens one of the buttons of my blouse and pushes his hand inside the cup of my bra, stroking my hardening nipple.
Then he starts to kiss my neck, moving up to gently nip my earlobe and then down past my collarbone, and his mouth fastens around my nipple, licking it sensually, and although he hasn’t touched me down there, I feel my clitoris tingling already. He looks up at me, his hand still touching my breast.
“This is unusual,” I murmur. “No instructions. No commands.”
“Is that what you want?”
“It might make a nice change, just for tonight,” I tell him. And then I reach for his buttons and undo them one by one, baring the flesh of his chest and stroking it again, skin on skin. I’m sure I’ll never get enough of touching Adam’s body.
I push the shirt off his shoulders, and then start to work on his belt buckle. I’m fumbling and not making very rapid progress, so he stands and takes off his socks and then his trousers. I can see his erection standing proud through his boxer shorts.
Then he removes my blouse and I stand up to pull off my skinny jeans. I sit down again next to him, dressed only in a pink balconette bra and matching thong.
“These are nice,” he says, trailing a finger down from the cup of my bra to the silky material of the thong.
“And this is nice too,” I reply, reaching out to touch his erection. I love the feel of his hardness under my hand. I reach for the sides of his boxer shorts and he helps me pull them off. “Adam, I want you inside me,” I tell him. I push him backwards towards the bed. He doesn’t resist, letting me guide him onto his back. And then I’m on top of him, straddling him.
“Oh, bugger,” I exclaim, and climb off.
“That was a bit disappointing,” he says, looking bemused. “Are we finished?”
“No, I just need to find a condom.” I find the sponge bag on the floor by the bed and dig one out, then get back on top of Adam, kneeling over his legs, smiling and brandishing it. “Hey presto.”
But I keep the condom ready in my fist as I lean down to kiss him. As our mouths lock together, he reaches around my back and unfastens my bra. His hand moves to my left breast and kneads it firmly, stimulating my nipple as he does so with his thumb. His other hand strays down to the tiny fabric of the thong between my legs. Remembering to be quiet, I make sure I don’t moan.
I pull back and look at his completely beautiful face, his grey eyes dark with arousal now as he keeps on touching my sex through my underwear. I pull off the pink bra and throw it on the floor.
As he caresses me intimately, our eyes are locked and his gaze is full of erotic promise. He pushes the thong to one side and easily slides his finger inside me where I’m already wet for him. I let him move in and out of me for a minute, savouring the sensation, and then I kneel up, moving away further down the bed and I lean over him, kissing his tummy just below the navel. I hear him give a faint sigh.
Then I move down, snaking down his body with my tongue, and start to kiss his big, hard erection. I lick around the shaft in a figure of eight, and at the top I push the tip of my tongue up to the top, tasting a tiny bead of salty liquid that’s already formed there in anticipation of the pleasure I’m going to give him.
I carry on in the same way, teasing round and round with my tongue, until at the apex of the figure of eight I take him into my mouth, then release him, teasing and licking some more. Now each time, I take him a little further inside, then let him go again, licking the same way over and over again, until finally I decide that I’ve teased him enough and I take him fully into my mouth.
He’s big and hard and I take him deep inside, still making my tongue work while I suck and move, faster now and deeper. The rhythm builds and I can feel him thicken inside my mouth.
Suddenly I release him and move quickly up his body, straddling him, and tear open the condom packet, rolling it onto his full length. Oh, how I love the feel of his erection. He reaches out for my thong with his hands, pushing it to one side and positioning me over him so that I can sink down onto him, desperately turned on by the arousal I can see in his face. I sigh as I feel him fill me completely and I start to move on top of him.
I keep it gentle at first, pushing all the way down each time as I savour the feeling of deep penetration. “Oh, Justine, that’s good,” he says and I smile, exulting in my power as I control the pace.
But my excitement quickly builds, and I start to move faster up and down his shaft. I lean down again to kiss him hard as I start to edge towards climax. Our tongues lock and now he’s touching my breasts, and as I support myself with one hand I use the other to feel the wonderful hardness of the muscles on his chest. As we move together, nothing in the world matters except our union and I lose myself in the feeling of Adam inside me. I sit back and he grips my hips and takes control, forcing the pace as he thrusts inside me hard from underneath and I grind down onto him, my pleasure building and building. I lean back and hold onto his legs with my hands, arching my body and he moves one hand to touch my clitoris. The light touch of his finger is enough to send me spiralling out of control and I moan softly, quietly as we come together, shuddering with pleasure as I climax. I open my eyes to look at him and see his face contorted with ecstasy.
I lean down and kiss him, and he holds me, still inside me. Then I climb off and lie next to him on the tangled bedcovers.
“That’s how I used to have sex,” I smile at him. “Before you corrupted me with your wicked ways.”
I see him frown a little. “I thought you’d already tried being dominated?” he queries.
“Well, yes, but I only dabbled in it before,” I tell him. “It’s all been a bit more hardcore with you.”
“And do you like hardcore?”
“Yes, I rather think I do.”
His smile returns, and he reaches for the tissues on the bedside table to wrap the condom in as he removes it. “Thoughtful of your parents,” he grins. “Thought there’d be something to mop up, evidently. It seems they know all about what kind of woman you are.”
I stick out my tongue at him. “Or perhaps they just thought one of us might need to blow our nose.”
He lies down again and strokes my hair. “You seemed to like teasing me, earlier,” he notes.
I smile, remembering how I kept tantalising him with my tongue and then how I took my mouth away just as he was nearing his climax. “I thought you deserved that, after all you’ve done to me.”
“Oh, really? I’ll remember that,” he promises, and I feel a little frisson of excitement at his darkening look.
“Are you impressed that I remembered to keep quiet?” I ask him.
“Oh, that’s not what I was talking about earlier,” he announces, and suddenly sits up. He leans over the side of the bed and I hear him undo the zip on his bag. I watch him turn to me with a wicked look, another collection of scarves in his hand. “You didn’t think you were getting off that lightly, did you?”
I just look at him, heart thumping.
“Give me one of your wrists.” I obediently put out my left hand and he ties a scarf around it. “Lie down.” Once I’m on my back on the bed he ties me to the wooden bedpost, then does the same with my right wrist.
He stands back and looks at his handiwork. “There’s something wrong with this picture,” he comments. And then he roughly yanks my thong down and pulls it down and off me. My chest is rising and falling rapidly as I watch and wait.
“Now, what shall we do with Justine?” he muses, his expression wolfish. He sits down on the bottom of the bed. “More restraints first, I think,” he continues and the
n he deftly binds both my ankles with two more scarves, firmly tying the ends to the foot of the bed.
“Very nice,” he says, standing back and admiring the effect. My mouth is dry with nerves now and I lick my lips in an attempt to wet them, as I lie naked and spread-eagled on the bed at Adam’s mercy. And I’m feeling dreadfully conscious that my unsuspecting parents are just across the landing, hopefully asleep.
Very tenderly, Adam starts to touch my tethered body, using his skilled fingers to tease my nipples until they stand proud and erect. He leans over and kisses my left breast, sucking on the tender flesh of my nipple and licking with the soft tip of his tongue. His hand travels down to stroke my lower belly, then, releasing my breast, he runs his fingers along the curve of my hip and down my thigh.
