by Kerri Sharpe
‘I’ll give it to you,’ he promised, ‘but I don’t want your mouth.’
‘Then –’ she began.
‘Get up here and lean over this wall. Look over the edge,’ Peter said.
Hallie obeyed. Unconcerned, she teased, ‘Are you going to try and push me over?’
‘Oh no,’ Peter said laughing. ‘Not before I’ve had my fun.’ He forcibly spun her to face the stars and her head reeled back on her shoulders. Her vision swam with the wide night sky as the wind embraced her flesh. With a gently insistent push, he urged her head down over the edge of the building. Whispering hotly into her ear, he said, ‘I have much more enjoyable tasks in mind for you and this soft body of yours.’
She braced herself more deftly against the concrete, and he came up behind her. Her stomach lurched, torn between the natural fear of being so vulnerably suspended and the excitement of Peter’s forbidden touch. The ground became but a black hole beneath her vision, causing the blood to rush in her veins. Only the streetlights sprinkled the ground, bringing light to the darkness by mimicking the starry heavens.
Peter yanked her skirt up then slapped her exposed cheeks before roughly grabbing her hips. His strong fingers journeyed up the small of her back to press her more firmly forwards. Her skin scraped gently over concrete and her hair dangled towards the earth as she looked over the steep, unforgiving edge.
‘Where would you like me?’ he asked.
She was beyond caring. ‘Put it wherever you want.’
Peter chuckled. Taking himself in hand, he rubbed his cock along the crack of her ass. Then, holding her still by force of will, he placed his hand possessively on her hips. With each word he spoke, he rubbed himself against her in a teasing caress.
‘Is your cunt wet and hot for me?’ he asked.
‘Uh-huh,’ she answered. She closed her eyes to the drop below.
‘Do you want me to ride you with my enormous, hard cock?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Do you want to be fucked rough and strong?’
‘Yes, do it!’ Hallie commanded. ‘Do it now! Fuck me!’
Peter guided his cock to the opened lips of her moist pussy. Instinctively knowing she had never taken it in the ass, he decided to begin simply and work his way up to it. The last thing he wanted was for her to back out.
‘Hold on to the edge, baby,’ he said.
‘Do it!’ she ordered in frantic persistence. ‘Take your giant cock and stick it in me now! Fuck me! Claim me! Ride me hard!’
With stiff confidence he embedded himself deeply within her, prying her apart as he sank the whole of his thickened shaft inside her luxuriously wet passage. He had wanted her since the first moment he saw her in his boardroom, pouring coffee for some investors. And now he’d hit pay dirt.
Hallie bucked and shouted to the stars in noisy rapture before looking down the long drop of the skyscraper’s outside wall. Her heart hammered at the dangerous thrill as Peter jabbed inside her, thrusting and pulling with unrestrained vigour. The heavy push of his engorged cock nudged her closer to the edge until her head was flying past the corner, only to be drawn back by the powerful strength of his hands on her hips. The rough stone of the building brushed up against the top curves of her breasts, snagging her lacy bra. The concrete kisses on her erect nipples sent chills over the aching tips to radiate through her.
Peter threw back his head in sheer ecstasy at the dominant force of his possession. His body controlled her passions, pushing her higher with every commanding plunge. Their movements became frenzied as he rode her like a wild man.
Hallie felt her body began to shake. Her stomach lurched and trembled in mounting gratification. Peter held back, taking his orgasm inside of himself so as not to lose his solid erection. He was not done with her yet.
Giving her only a moment to dwell in her pleasure, he moved his finger to the crack of her ass. He kept himself moving deeply inside of her cunt as his fingers sought reaction to his touch. Hallie tried to jerk away from him but he refused. Her body hummed with unsteady pleasure as Peter’s thrust slowed by a small degree.
He controlled her completely and grew mad with the power of it. And as her trembling began to subside, he started to pump once more in his frenzied pace. Instantly, Hallie began to quiver in response to his hard persistence. She hollered in wicked delight.
In amazement, she felt her body tighten with a second orgasm. She cried out with the strength of it – the unexpected payoff for risking her life in this wild crazy moment. Her body went numb from the onslaught of pleasure. If not for his hold on her ass, she could be falling over the precipitous edge. With a grunt of approval, Peter again controlled his release, though it was hard not to spurt inside her slick, inviting warmth.
Hallie collapsed in a daze, unable to lift herself off of the building’s edge. She mumbled incoherently in satisfaction. Peter slowly withdrew his still hard cock from her. A sly smile formed on his masculine lips. She was exactly where he wanted her to be. Her body was too weakened by pleasure to deny him anything. She was his to do with what he pleased. For this moment, he owned her.
‘Peter,’ she panted.
‘I’m not done with you yet.’
‘Give me a second, I can’t move,’ she begged, laughing. She closed her eyes, no longer concerned with falling over the edge. Her heart hammered in her chest.
‘Good,’ he said with a swarthy chuckle.
Peter massaged himself gently, enjoying the glide of her slick juices still on his penis. He stroked his hand between her legs until her pussy started to once again grow moist with cream at the attention. He flicked his finger over her sensitive nub until it stiffened with acceptance. Hallie protested weakly, unable to stand on her unsteady feet. Her high heels pressed firmly into the concrete.
He rubbed his cock over her flowing moisture, to ready himself it for penetration. Then, as he heard her moan, he slowly drew the tip of his shaft up her exposed cleft to spread her soft cheeks. With a primal growl he ignored her jolt of surprise as he narrowed in over her untried hole.
He took hold of himself and nudged at her, dipping the tip inside the tight opening. He grunted loudly in approval. Her ass clasped firmly around him like a squeezing vice. Hallie’s eyes opened in wonder at the melee of nerves that jumped in response to his forbidden entrance. She didn’t expect him to actually claim her in such a taboo way.
Unable to stop him, she tried to relax as she felt him glide a little deeper to break open her second purity. Her insides jumped with the giddiness of a virgin. His cock stretched her mercilessly and Hallie gasped in a combination of wonder and gratification. Hearing her soft pants of excitement, Peter smiled victoriously and eased inside her completely. He huffed in gratification as she tensed and squeezed her canal.
With the aid of her juices he began to move within her, slowly at first and then more insistently when she could not find the words to protest. Feeling the ultimate pleasure of domination, he began to jerk within her. He felt himself losing complete control as he took her. It had been his fantasy to have the proper, conservative Hallie for so long. He wanted to control her, to take her in a way she had never been taken before. She had been his obsession.
Hallie felt a strange, warm feeling spread over her midsection. Her entire form began to tremble in fulfilment as he pounded at her tight core. And then she exploded with a tight-lipped cry of pleasure.
It was too much for Peter, who grunted and released himself inside of her with a howl, coming in hot streaming jets. When he finished, he fell against her back, completely spent, pressing Hallie into the rough stone ledge. Their sweaty skin slid together, cooling in the wind, and Peter pulled his cock from her ass with a slow groan of contentment. Hallie shivered.
Pushing up from the ledge, she turned to him. Her eyes glittered with wicked contentment. Licking her lips as she righted her clothing, she watched him button his fly. When he looked at her it was from under lowered lashes.
‘I am sure going to
miss you,’ Peter said with a lopsided grin. His devilishly black hair fell over his eyes.
‘Miss me?’ she questioned in alarm. ‘Are you firing me?’
‘Your promotion came through this morning. You leave for Paris in two weeks.’ Peter hummed contentedly as he turned from her. With a smirk, he threw over his shoulder, ‘Oh, and you’re definitely getting a raise.’ He pulled the roof key from his front pocket.
She watched his naked back draw farther away from her. Whistling, he unlocked the thick metal door and disappeared within the dark passageway. The door shut loudly behind him and then all was silent.
Turning back to the ledge, Hallie sighed. A smile came to her lips as she revelled in the rapture of her sated body.
‘Goodbye, Peter,’ she said, ‘I’ll miss you, too. Even though I barely got to know you.’
Michelle M Pillow is the author of the Cheek titles Fierce Competition, Opposites Attract and Bit by the Bug. Her novel, Along for the Ride, was published by Cheek in August 2007.
The Apprentice Fiona Locke
MASTER LEIGHTON WAS right. His apprentice played flawlessly after a caning.
Three sharp strokes to the seat of the lad’s trousers. No ceremony. Just swift correction for a sour note. And Martin played the piece again. Perfectly.
‘Excellent,’ said Master Leighton. It was the only time he ever used the word, the only time he ever sounded truly pleased. He wasn’t so much praising his apprentice as praising himself for eliciting the impeccable recital.
It was a hard life with Master Leighton, but well worth it. He was the most brilliant violinist in the country and he was extremely selective about his pupils. Strict discipline was a condition of his tutelage, a condition that discouraged many less dedicated boys from studying with him. Martin was different.
Alison twisted round in front of the mirror to see her smarting backside. The trousers offered little protection from the sting of the cane. But she was grateful for every stroke. Because she was his apprentice. And Master Leighton did not accept female pupils.
She was eighteen, but her slight build allowed her to pass for a much younger boy. It was no sacrifice to conceal her femininity. Music was her life and anything she had to surrender to pursue it was worth losing. The fact that Master Leighton wouldn’t teach girls hadn’t dimmed her spirits for a moment. She had simply cropped her hair, borrowed some clothes from her brother and gone to audition for him. That had been eight months ago.
It was difficult in the beginning. Alison worried that he would see through her disguise and send her away in disgrace for trying to deceive him. She fretted about how to walk, how to talk and act like a boy. But with some coaching from her brother she grew confident.
Master Leighton caned his new apprentice on the very first day, ostensibly for some careless error. Alison suspected it was more to establish his authority. She tried to take the punishment bravely, reminding herself with each stroke that she was a boy and boys didn’t cry. The caning was painful, but it did not expose her ruse.
Now she no longer had to remind herself not to whimper or cry. Her boyish manners were second nature to her and she accepted her master’s correction with the fortitude of any lad.
Alison gently rubbed the vivid tramlines. To her they were badges of honour. They meant she was studying with the genius.
‘You’re not sawing a tree limb, boy!’ Master Leighton would snap, rapping Martin’s knuckles sharply with his bow.
He could be tyrannical, forcing his apprentice to practise for hours on end, hammering away at a troublesome musical phrase until it was played to perfection. Eccentric and unpredictable, he was easily offended even by honest mistakes on Martin’s part. Indeed, he sometimes seemed capricious, as though looking for any excuse to use the cane, whether it was truly deserved or not.
The rewards were uncountable, though. And when Master Leighton performed, Alison was allowed to sit just offstage and watch, mesmerised, dreaming of the day when she would be the one the audiences flocked to see.
As she crawled into bed, wincing at her bottom’s contact with the sheet, Alison pictured her master’s handsome face. His features were distinguished – sharply defined and as austere as his manners. But somehow that only made him more appealing. His black looks made her tremble, but they also made her squirm with desire. She cherished his intensity. His harsh criticisms, his severe punishments. She wanted more than anything to please him, to make him proud. Trying to keep her feelings for him under control, she showed as much affection as she dared, as much as would be appropriate from a boy apprentice. But secretly she loved him. And each time he punished her she embraced the pain as proof that he loved her too.
The cane awakened strange feelings in Alison. True, it frightened her. It hurt terribly and made sitting most unwelcome. But it got her attention and it usually corrected what it was meant to. She certainly didn’t enjoy it, but neither did she resent it.
Master Leighton was uncompromising. He made every stroke count and her bottom always throbbed and burnt afterwards. But when the pain began to fade to a warm glow she felt her heart swell with even more affection for the man who had inflicted it. There was a strange comfort in submitting to his discipline.
Alison snuggled down in bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. She sighed with contentment as she replayed the caning in her mind. She had obediently assumed the position he had taught his apprentice that first day: standing three feet back from the door, bending forwards with her feet together and her hands braced on either side of the doorway, back arched and bottom presented.
Master Leighton rarely told his apprentice how many strokes he was going to administer and the suspense was both awful and heady. She clutched the architrave, her knuckles white, counting in her head and wondering if another stroke was coming.
With a deeper sigh, Alison turned onto her side, reaching behind her to savour the heat in her bottom. She had sometimes been tempted to make some minor mistake to earn punishment, but she never got up the courage. The guilty, naughty thrill of the thought was enough to make her tingle, though, and she squeezed her legs together, trying to banish the fantasies.
He must never learn the truth. It was sometimes agonising, and Alison longed to tell him who she was. She wanted to show him the proof that girls could play as well as boys. But she didn’t dare raise the subject. If he should even begin to suspect …
Master Leighton drew his fingers along the polished surface of the violin, admiring its construction. The instrument was like a dancer. To the eye it seemed delicate and fragile, yet it had power beyond its appearance. Its graceful lines and feminine curves were deceptive, as it could only truly be mastered in the hands of a man.
Martin was like the instrument – soft, lissom, light. The boy’s voice showed no sign of changing, though he was well beyond the age when it should have done. He was moody and tender-hearted. Indeed, the music often brought tears to the lad’s eyes.
Master Leighton’s suspicions had been growing for several weeks, but he kept returning to the one undeniable reality: the boy was a prodigy. No girl could possibly play so well.
And yet …
Martin’s features were androgynous. He had wide brown eyes that peered out from under long lashes. His complexion was fair, with no trace of facial hair. Long, shapely fingers gripped the fingerboard of the violin and there was a feline grace in his bowing. And music easily stirred him to emotion.
One could certainly never doubt the lad’s pluck under the cane. Master Leighton had reduced boys to tears before, but Martin never cried. He took his punishment and was invariably better for it. He was far more likely to become tearful over a string of haunting minor chords than over a flogging.
The master shook his head. It couldn’t be true. But the more he pondered it, the more he began to see all the little clues.
It would make perfect sense, of course. He was actually surprised no one had tried it before. Martin was the best pupil he’d ever had. There
had never been another so diligent, so committed, so passionate about music. Was it possible that was because he had more to prove?
The more he thought about it, the more certain he became. Martin was a girl. But how could he make sure? He had no intention of dismissing the apprentice. Boy or no, Martin had a gift. There was no one who could nurture and refine that gift more than Master Leighton. And, if he was to be completely honest, he was fond of the lad. But it was time to end the charade.
As he looked through the sheet music for the next day’s lesson an idea came to him. He didn’t enjoy having to punish his pupils. He regarded it as a duty. But if he was right about Martin’s secret, the idea wasn’t entirely unappealing. After all, if the boy really was a girl, she certainly deserved a thrashing for deceiving him.
It surprised him that he wasn’t really angry. On the contrary, he was as impressed by the girl’s audacity as he was by her talent. But he intended to humble her for it.
He put away the music he had planned to use the next day. It would have challenged Martin, but not as much as what he now had in mind.
He searched through his library for the right piece, weighing Martin’s talent and skill against each one. He wanted something difficult, something just beyond his apprentice’s abilities. Enough to frighten and frustrate even a seasoned player.
When he found the piece he was looking for he dusted it off. It was a concerto he had underestimated himself when he was a pupil. Its complexity belied the apparent simplicity of the notes on paper. Martin – whatever her real name was – had a rigorous lesson ahead of him. Her.
‘Again,’ Master Leighton said harshly. ‘You insult the composer when you play it like that.’
Alison stared at the music, taken aback by its intricacy. Her master had always told her that no composer exposed the amateur more than Mozart. His music demanded perfection. Nothing less would suffice.
With unsteady hands she began again. Master Leighton stopped her after three measures.
