by Ashe Barker
I notice most of the other women are wearing black—plenty of sparkle, of course, but still black. I feel somewhat conspicuous in bright emerald green, and I wonder if Nicola deliberately selected a dress that would make me stand out rather than blend in. And if so, was she acting on Nathan’s instructions? Certainly, he seems to like my look, insists it is unique, that I am beautiful. When he’s not being intimidating. he can be perfectly charming. He says some really kind things to me, really often, and even though I’m not fooled—after all, he’s made his intentions absolutely clear and this is all part of his strategy for getting me into his bed, or wherever—it’s still nice. He makes me feel good. Most of the time. I seem to recall he said I had a beautiful bottom, just before he laid into my bum with a ruler. I shift in my seat, still wincing as I remember how much that hurt, and the muscles way down in my belly clench as I remember the ‘reward’ for my compliance, the wonderful orgasm that followed.
After the presentations, we dance. Nothing too elaborate or ambitious, just a bit of gentle swaying to smooch music, his arms loosely around me and my face leaning into his chest. We spend a peaceful, sensuous half-hour, and I am intensely aware of his body under my hands, his hard, muscular male body so unlike mine.
By mutual, unspoken consent we amble over to the bar and perch on high stools, me sipping a white wine spritzer and him with a bottle of Bud. His black bow tie is open and hanging loose now we’ve reached the wind-down part of the evening, his top button undone. But still he looks absolutely gorgeous, his sexy smile and dark eyes promising much more fun still to come.
My stomach is fluttering with excitement, anticipation. And apprehension, because I know he probably has something else in store too, something more…challenging, to be endured to whet his appetite—or mine? I’m really not sure now. I hope it won’t involve spanking me again—my still tender bum really is in no shape for that treatment twice in the same day—but ultimately, I doubt I’ll have any say in it.
Placing the empty beer bottle on the bar, Nathan turns to me, his head to one side, his eyes dark, passion-filled.
“Time to go, Eva.” He holds out his hand, and I take it.
* * * *
We arrive back at Nathan’s apartment, arm in arm, having made many, many stops along the route home for deep, arousing kisses. I doubt there’s a doorway, wall or seat anywhere between here and the Armouries that we haven’t graced with our sensual presence. It took us a lot longer to get back than the outward journey took.
The apartment door clicks shut, locking behind us, and Nathan shrugs off his dinner jacket, then drops it over the back of the settee. Going over to the kitchen worktop, Nathan picks up my discarded knickers from earlier, dangling them from his index finger. “Could you wear these now, do you think?”
“Yes, I think I could.”
He nods, smiling briefly, passing me the handful of lace. “Good. That’s my bedroom”—he indicates with his head which door is his—“I’ll be a few minutes, and when I come in I’d like you to be wearing these, and nothing else. Is that okay, Miss Byrne?”
‘Miss Byrne’ again. There’s a definite pattern emerging here. ‘Miss Byrne’ means either intense pain or intense pleasure. I know that when he’s in this mood he will demand an answer. I supply it with a brief nod, and head for his bedroom door.
His room is bigger than the guest room, furnished in a masculine style with solid wood and dark leather. The king-size bed dominates the middle of the room. The duvet is black with narrow white stripes, and the curtains match it. The pillow cases are black. The carpet is dark gray, deep and thick. I kick off my gold sandals, sink my toes into the pile. Without further thought, I drop my gold chain belt alongside the sandals, and the dress follows.
Remembering my instructions, I dutifully remove my bra and slip the panties back on, before walking gingerly over to a chest at the foot of the bed. Kneeling in front of it, I slowly lift the lid. Even before I open the chest I know what I’m going to find in there, but still I’m chilled at the sight of so many whips, canes, leather straps, ropes, tape and other bondage paraphernalia, as seen earlier on that wonderful website, but now here, in the flesh. Oh, Jesus, what have I let myself in for?
Those were just pictures. These are real. And they are meant to be used on me. They will be used on me—that’s why I’m here. And I already know first-hand how much this is going to hurt. My hands are shaking as I close the lid. In an attempt to calm myself, I drop my head down onto my arms, folded over the flat, cool oak of the lid, closing my eyes and concentrating on breathing in and out, slowly.
“You’ve been exploring, I see, Miss Byrne. And have you made your selection? Do you have a weapon of choice?”
I jump sharply, startled. I didn’t hear him come in. He is crouching behind me, at my eye level, and puts out his hand to steady me as I spin around. Standing, he draws me to my feet, and kisses me lightly on the lips before slowly walking around me, his gaze raking up and down my body.
He stops behind me and hooks his thumbs into the elastic at the top of my panties, gently drawing them down to reveal my buttocks, still bearing the raised red stripes. I am unable to prevent my wince as he touches me and squeeze my buttocks together in some form of ineffective self-defense at the light brush of the backs of his fingers over my tender skin, tracing the marks left by his earlier attentions.
He has removed his shirt, and the top button of his dress trousers is undone. His feet are bare. His chest is lean, sharply contoured, the washboard abdomen clearly visible above his waistband. Obviously. a man who works out, or leads an otherwise very active life. Compared to his physical perfection, and despite all his compliments and apparent approval earlier, I feel desperately self-conscious, keenly aware of my lack of natural curves, angular body, small breasts.
I know better now than to try to cover myself, so I stand still, my briefs lowered to let him study my bum, bearing his scrutiny and hoping his courtesy and kindness from earlier in the evening might extend to this situation. In all our sexual encounters so far, his normal, playful, lighthearted, charming personality has seemed to change the instant he laid his hands on me. He is unpredictable, intimidating, arrogant, forceful. And utterly wonderful.
Gently pulling my underwear back into position, he comes to stand at the side of me, his left palm still spread over my bottom, the knuckles of his right hand idly grazing the underside and tip of my breast as he leans in to bury his face in my hair.
His murmur is low, sensual. “Miss Byrne, you are a truly beautiful woman.”
Relief washes over me. Thank God.
Straightening, he gently removes the pins and Damien’s wooden claw from my hair, letting the copper and amber length of it fall across his hands, down my back. “I forgot to mention that I will always want your hair down when we are together. Please make sure of that in future, Miss Byrne.” I nod dumbly, caught like a rabbit in headlights as his dark gaze captures mine.
“You’re shivering. Are you cold?” I shake my head, not able to break eye contact with him. “Scared, then?” I hesitate, not sure what I am allowed to say, but for once he doesn’t press me.
His eyes are warm, his voice gentle, reassuring. “Don’t be afraid of me, Eva. Nothing’s going to happen unless you agree. This afternoon was hard on you, Miss Byrne, I know that. And you’re still a little sore, I gather?” He is lightly caressing my bottom. I nod. “Thought so. Just a little gentle fucking tonight, then. That suit you?”
I stare at him, wide-eyed, intensely relieved. My knees start to give way and he catches me, easily lifting me and dropping me lightly on his bed. After falling down beside me, he effortlessly rolls me onto my back and kisses me deeply, sensually, his tongue exploring my mouth. I tunnel my hands through his over-long hair as it flops forward, my tongue needing no invitation to join in the dance. He rolls, and I find myself on top, the aggressor, kissing him, plunging my tongue into his mouth. He is holding my hair back, combing his hands through it before sliding
them down to my shoulders, my back, my hips. We roll again, and now I’m back underneath.
After a few moments of mindless kisses, his touch gliding up and down my body, smoothing quickly over my breasts, my hips, the sides of my legs, he takes my wrists in one of his hands and pins them above my head. Leaning over me, raised on one elbow, he nuzzles my nose with his.
“Gentle fucking doesn’t mean no kinky stuff at all, Miss Byrne. I’m going to tie you to the bed. Okay?”
“Why? I’m not going anywhere.” My earlier apprehension is back, my voice weak, breathy.
“Don’t look so worried, Miss Byrne. And no frowning…” I make a conscious effort to straighten my face, and he grins knowingly. “You’ll love this. Trust me.”
Before I can respond he leans over me, reaching under the pillow to pull out a restraint of some sort. I only glimpse it for a moment, but it appears to be a strap about two feet long, with a leather, buckled ‘bracelet’ at either end. Swiftly he loops it around through the wooden slats in the headboard before cuffing first one of my hands, then the other. He fastens the buckles tightly around my wrists. It’s not painful, and I can still move, but my arms are raised above my head and I feel helpless. I guess that’s the plan.
Lying alongside me, leaning up on one elbow, he looks his fill. He strokes my breasts, my belly, before hooking his thumb in the waistband of my panties.
“You’re looking damn good, Miss Byrne. I don’t think we need these anymore, do we?” Glancing down at my pretty green and pink briefs, he looks back at me, one eyebrow raised. “I’m going to take them off. Okay?” Not waiting for an answer, he draws them down. “Lift your feet, Miss Byrne,” he whispers, and I do. Nathan slips the briefs past my ankles and tosses them on the floor with the rest of my clothes. This is the first time he has seen me totally nude. Embarrassed and excruciatingly self-conscious, I lie still, waiting for whatever might be coming next.
He combs his fingers lightly through my pubic hair. “A natural redhead, Miss Byrne. I knew that, but still, this is so gorgeous…” Turning briskly, he pulls a couple of pillows from the top of the bed. Then, lifting my hips, he pushes the pillows underneath me to raise my bum from the bed.
Then he is on me again, his elbows either side of my head as he kisses me deeply. He is lying on top of me—not heavily, since he’s supporting his weight on his elbows—but he’s between my legs and I can feel his erection through his pants, the fabric of his clothing rough against my sensitive, swollen pussy.
“You wanted me naked when I fuck you, I seem to recall, Miss Byrne. This is our first time so I’m happy to oblige, just this once.” Rolling to one side, he unzips his pants and pushes them to his ankles. After kicking them off, he quickly disposes of his boxers too, a rather fetching shade of pale blue. He stands up, glancing down at me and letting me look my fill at him, before he strolls casually around the head of the bed, out of my line of sight. I hear a drawer open, then close again, and he is back, three condoms in his hand. He tosses them onto the pillow beside my head. Three! Wow.
“Be prepared, Miss Byrne.” He grins as he comes back to lie beside me.
He is fully erect, enormous. His penis is thick, veined, and the head smoothly glistening with pre-cum. I know I am staring. I can’t help it. He’s magnificent, and so damned big. I’m absolutely sure that there’s no way he’s going to fit inside me. No way. I won’t survive it.
With his unerring powers of observation, he knows what I am thinking. Turning my face toward his with his hand, he kisses me lightly. “Trust me, you’ll be fine. And I’ll make this so good for you, Eva…”
I lie still, closing my eyes, willing myself to relax. I have his promise. I know he won’t let me down.
He leans over me and lowers his head to softly take my nipple in his mouth, lightly sucking. I arch up, gasping with pleasure. Inexperienced as I am, I know all about this. And this is so, so good…
He increases the pressure, just slightly, and repeats the treatment on my other nipple. I groan, writhing under him. He gently rakes his fingers through my pubic hair, twisting the light amber curls around his fingers, teasing, playing. I’m desperate for him to touch me, really touch me. My legs are open, and I spread them farther, wider, inviting…
His touch is featherlight as he slides his fingers over my clitoris just slightly, briefly nudging it, enough to kindle my awareness and promise much more, before slipping one long, gentle finger inside me. My hips shoot up off the bed—I am in absolute ecstasy. I think I might have cried out. I wriggle, trying to increase the pressure, my clit quivering for attention. He catches my eye for a moment, smiling softly, before sliding down my body to dip his tongue into my navel. He withdraws his finger from my pussy, wet and creamy with my juices, and spreads the natural lubrication all over my vulva. The caress is wonderful, but still I want him inside me and I give a small, inarticulate cry of disappointment, of loss, only to shudder with delight as he quickly shifts his position so his head is between my legs. I realise what he is intending to do a brief moment before his lips close around my clit and he flicks the engorged, desperate little nub with his tongue.
I scream, pulling against the straps restraining my hands, shocked at the intimacy of this, drowning in pleasure.
“Nathan, please, you can’t… I can’t. That’s too much…” I am lost in the intense pleasure of the moment. I never, ever could have imagined anything feeling as wonderful as this—so intense, so delicious. Ignoring my protests, he increases the pressure, but his tongue is soft, gentle still. He lightly grazes my clit with his teeth—Jesus! I stiffen, thrusting my hips forward, unable to breathe, desperate for more, climbing toward, what? The most powerful climax in my limited experience, no doubt. And it’s very near.
He slips one, then two fingers back inside me, twisting them, spreading them inside my pussy to caress my internal walls and angling to reach that special spot, pressing, rubbing.
And I’m lost, spiraling up and outwards, fracturing in a shower of scorching sparks as every nerve in my body connects, realised on the exquisite burst of pleasure between my legs. I lose awareness of everything except the intense convulsions gripping my lower body, my nipples tingling, my entire body pulsing in delight. He knows what he’s doing—he strokes and licks me continually whilst I writhe and moan, knowing instinctively how to stretch out the moment, draw every last gasp of delight out of me. The orgasm seems to last forever, all else forgotten, swept away on waves of selfish pleasure.
At last I lie still, spent and satisfied, eyes closed, breathing again. Dimly, I hear the sound of the condom foil being torn open, then the snap as he rolls the latex into place. He lies over me, my legs spread wide either side of his hips. I can feel his erection, huge and thick, brushing across my pubic hair briefly before he raises his hips slightly to position himself at my entrance. I feel the large head of his penis pushing into me, but still drunk with pleasure and boneless with satisfaction, I can’t rouse myself enough to tell him what he needs to know. Now. That this is my first time, that he needs to go slowly, be gentle, let me adjust—
He thrusts forward, and I scream again, this time in agony as the pain slices through me, white-hot. He is huge, absolutely enormous, and he has filled me to the hilt. I know I am dying. I can’t possibly survive this—he must have torn me in two.
He stiffens, goes still. My eyes are squeezed tightly shut, my jaw clenched in pain, my teeth grinding together. My instinct is to stay still, not move. I am paralyzed. He fills me totally, and I am impossibly stretched—tense, fragile, ready to tear apart if either of us moves.
“Eva?” His voice is quiet, but I can hear the disbelief and I am mortified, humiliated. Found lacking in my inexperience. God, how could I have messed this up so badly?
“Eva, open your eyes, love. Look at me.” He caresses my face, his lips gentle as he kisses me lightly. I open my eyes, and his are soft, dark with passion, and concern—for me?
“Do you want me to stop?”
Yes. No! No. The pain is subsiding, my body adjusting. “Please, give me a moment…”
“Okay, take your time, love.” Then, “I’m so sorry. I should have been more gentle. I would have, if, well… I thought with you being on the pill, and so eager for…everything, that you, well…”
For once, the mighty Nathan is lost for words. That’s a result.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Why, indeed? I try to keep the pain from my voice as I gasp my answer. “I thought if you knew I was, was…”
“A virgin,” he puts in helpfully.
“Yes, a virgin,” I bury my face in his shoulder, gathering my thoughts, searching for reasons. I can’t believe I’m lying here under him, his massive cock deep inside me while both of us struggle not to move a muscle. And we’re actually having a sensible conversation. Well, nearly sensible—I’ve yet to come up with a good answer.
There is only one answer. And given our current circumstances, I figure I’ve nothing to lose now. I take a deep breath and spill it.
“I didn’t think you’d want me. If you knew I had no experience, nothing to offer you. And I thought maybe you wouldn’t be able to tell, especially after your fingers, and that vibrator, and…everything…” My voice tails off. I’m embarrassed, humiliated by my own naivety. “And I thought maybe I could learn fast. I am a fast learner.” Well, that’s the truth.
He groans, dropping his forehead onto the pillow beside mine, then turning his face to nuzzle my hair.
“Sweetheart, you should have told me. I could have really hurt you. Holy fuck, when I think of the things I’ve said to you, what I’ve done to you already. Christ… You must think I’m a heartless bastard.” His voice is low, gentle, whispering into my ear.
God, I think I could love this man…
“You already have hurt me, several times.” Despite my words, I am joking now, feeling lighter, more confident. He knows what a useless lover I am, and he’s still here. Apologizing to me instead of the other way around.
