Red Skye at Night

by Ashe Barker

  No hairbrush this time then? My relief is short-lived. Lubricant can only mean one thing.

  * * * *

  I take up Harry’s suggestion of a shower, but even so, I’m ready a good ten minutes before I need to be. I assume my position kneeling beside the bed, the tube of lubricant prominently displayed on the bedside table to my left. I’m nervous, but the submissive posture seems to help me. It’s calming, drawing me into the mindset I need to find in order to sink willingly into what’s to come. My anxiety recedes, to be replaced by a sort of heightened anticipation. I’m listening for Harry’s footfalls on the floor beyond the small chalet bedroom. I’m not even sure he’s in the lodge right now. He might be still out walking Daisy.

  The sound of the outer door opening and closing, and the patter of tiny paws on the tiled floor in the entrance hall confirm that suspicion. But he’s back now. His voice is low as he bids a gentle goodnight to Daisy, then I listen to his footsteps coming closer. The bedroom door opens behind me. I resist the temptation to raise my eyes, to look over my shoulder at him. Instinctively I know I must remain still, await his next command. Harry walks slowly across the room, around the back of me to the bed. He would be in my line of sight now if I were to look up. I don’t.

  “Have you worked out what’s about to happen, Hope?” Harry’s matter-of-fact tone is perversely comforting. He’s quite at ease, and as a result, so am I. I think. For now.

  “Yes, Sir, I believe so.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You’re going to fuck my arse.” I blurt out the words before allowing myself time to think more deeply about the situation. “Sir,” I add as an afterthought.

  “Correct. Will this be a first for you, Hope?”

  “Yes, Sir.” I hesitate. That’s not entirely true. Honesty and full disclosure are absolute requirements—Harry will expect me to tell him anything relevant. “At least, that is… Not exactly.”

  “You’ve had a cock in your ass before?”

  “No, Sir, not a cock. Fingers.”

  “I see. And how did that go?”

  “It was…all right.”

  “All right? I’m struggling to detect any real enthusiasm here, Hope.”

  The hint of humor in his tone reassures me that he’s not taking issue with my attitude. Relieved, I try to explain. “I’m sorry, Sir. It was just…not that pleasant.”

  “I see. Did he hurt you? Was he rough with you, perhaps? It was a he, I assume? An ex-boyfriend? Another Dom?”

  So many questions. I try to tell him what he wants to know, but in truth I’m not sure of all the answers myself. “It did hurt, a little. I suppose that was inevitable, though. He wasn’t rough, not exactly. More…forceful. And yes, he was my boyfriend at the time. Sort of. I saw him a few times, but not anymore, not for over a year now. I don’t think he was a Dom, but I never asked.”

  Now Harry does chuckle. “If he was a Dom, you would have known it whether you asked or not. And a good Dom wouldn’t have been forceful, as you put it. He wouldn’t have needed to be. I won’t be forcing you this evening, Hope. You’re going to submit to me. Willingly.”

  “I know that, Sir.”

  “Okay. So, tell me, when this happened before, how did you feel afterwards?”

  Now I pause, chewing my lip as I consider Harry’s question. I’m not sure what to say. In truth, I didn’t feel especially good about my previous experience of anal play and I’ve harbored no wish to repeat it. I have mixed feelings now, though I readily accept that Harry is a far cry from my ex-boyfriend.

  The seconds pass, and still I don’t answer. Harry reaches for me. He cradles my chin in his palm, tilting my head up so that I have to meet his eyes.

  “Tell me, Hope.” His tone is achingly gentle.

  “I felt…humiliated. Used, perhaps.”

  “Humiliation is a part of submission. And you are your Dom’s, to use—an ass, a cunt—for his pleasure.” He waits a moment. I presume to let his words sink in. Then, “Does that bother you now? At this moment?”

  I draw a long, deep breath, considering my answer. Harry releases my chin and shifts on the bed to sit on the edge, directly in front of me. I drop my gaze again so his legs are in my line of sight, from the knees down.

  “Look up, Hope. Look at me as you answer.” The Dom tone is still soft, the timbre rich, sexy, but tender at the same time. I obey, lifting up my chin to meet his gaze. He smiles at me. My confidence soars. Whatever may have happened before, this is going to be good. Because this time, it’s Harry.

  “No, Sir. I’m fine right now.” I manage a tentative smile of my own.

  “That’s good. But even so, I think we’ll have a safe code for this. I want to know how you’re doing. The fact that this has not gone too well for you in the past makes me cautious. As your Dom, I’m going to want to know how you’re feeling as we proceed.”

  I frown, puzzled. “Do you mean my safe word, Sir?”

  “No. Similar idea, though. We’re going to operate a scale, from one to ten. One means everything’s fine, ten means whatever is happening to you is intolerable and has to stop immediately. Ten is the equivalent of your safe word. I’m going to ask you what your score is, frequently, and you’ll tell me, somewhere on that scale. If your score changes, and I haven’t asked, you have permission to say it. No, scratch that. You’re instructed to say it. Is that clear?”

  “I think so, Sir.”

  “So, what’s your score now?”

  “One, Sir. Possibly two.”

  “Sounds good to start with. I think I’ll need to ramp you up a bit, though. You’ll feel cheated otherwise. Yes?”

  His eyes are glinting now, a heady mix of lust and humor, the perfect Dom for me. My pussy clenches in response—it’s a combination that will win with me every time. I bow my head, my submissive instincts coming to the fore, attuned to Harry’s dominance. “You’re right, Sir, of course.”

  “Ah, Hope, you truly delight me. How did I get so lucky that I found you?”

  “Sir?” I glance at him in genuine surprise. No one ever said they felt lucky to have found me.

  Harry leans forward, placing his palms on my cheeks. He brushes his lips over mine. “I knew at first glance you were a stunner and sassy with it. Sexy goes without saying, and to discover you’re the perfect little submissive too. Hey, all my Christmases have come at once.” He kisses me again.

  I forget my submissive posture, drawn in by the seductive dance of his tongue in my mouth, tangling around mine. I tunnel my fingers through his hair, lifting my body up to meet his kiss. Harry’s hands are on my shoulders, then they slide across my shoulder blades and down my back. He cups my bottom, separating the cheeks. I wince—my skin is still slightly delicate from the paddling earlier.

  Harry notices and breaks the kiss. “Still sore?”

  “Only a little, Sir.”

  He nods then turns to grab two pillows from the head of the bed. He lays them one on top of the other beside him.

  “Stand up, please.”

  I obey immediately.

  “Bend over, keep your feet on the floor and place your stomach on the pillows.”

  I do that, finding I have to bend my knees to rest on the pillows. My right leg is stiff, but I manage to get into the position.

  “Too low, you’ll be uncomfortable. Lift up a second.”

  Harry shoves two more pillows under me, and this time my weight is well supported, my legs are straight, and I’m even able to rest my arms and chin on the bed on the other side of the pillows. My bum, naturally, is held aloft for his attention. I feel vulnerable. Exposed, but not scared. Not yet.

  “What’s your score, Hope?”

  I answer without hesitation. “Two, Sir.”

  “I’ll live with that. Now, I want you to reach back and part your butt cheeks for me, please. Show me your asshole.”

  “Three, Sir.”

  “Noted. Do it, please.”

  I shift my weight slightly as I move my arms. Mome
nts later I’m straining to hold my buttocks apart, concentrating on not pressing too hard on anywhere especially tender, and trying not to think too closely about the view he now has of me.

  I’m aware of Harry moving, shifting his body around so he’s now perched on the edge of the bed, tuning to face me. Or rather, to face my exposed backside.

  “Oh! Oh that’s cold. Sir.” I let out the exclamation as a blob of something decidedly chilly lands on my anus

  “Wimp. Remind me to put the lube in the fridge next time. Or perhaps when you’ve become a bit more accustomed to these little games of ours, we could play with some ice. Would you like that, do you think, my slutty little sub? I could lick ice from your pussy.”

  The image causes me to clench hard, though not entirely in displeasure. The conversation almost takes my mind off the circular motion of Harry’s fingertip around the rim of my anus, slowly working the lube around the tight little opening. As far as I’m aware, my previous experience at this did not involve any lubricant. Perhaps that’s why I disliked it. I could hardly describe what Harry’s doing to me as unpleasant. Quite the reverse.

  “Two, Sir.” Well, he did say to tell him if my score altered.

  “Good girl.” He continues to work the lube into my skin, and now I’m aware of a slight pressure against my arsehole. Nothing hard, nothing to be alarmed about. Quite nice really, sort of intimate. Erotic certainly. The pressure increases, and I know Harry has managed to slip the tip of his finger inside. Just the tip, just an inch or so, perhaps less. He sets up a slow, shallow thrusting, twisting and swirling to tease the opening a little wider, encouraging me to slacken for him.

  “Score?”

  “Still two, Sir.”

  He withdraws his finger, and I moan in genuine disappointment. The sensation had been good. Strange, unfamiliar, but good. A moment later he inserts the digit again, more firmly this time, probing deeper. It feels slicker, sliding into me easily. He’s obviously reloaded with lube, and my arse is cooperating beautifully. I had not expected this to be so easy. I certainly would never have imagined I could feel so relaxed while this was happening to me.

  Harry continues to poke his finger into me, deeper now, the full length of it. He thrusts several times.

  “Score now?”

  “Still two, Sir.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  He’s not the only one.

  He withdraws again. This time I know why, I think, so I lie still, patient as I wait for the re-lubed finger to slip into my arse again. It does, but this time it’s not alone. Two slippery fingers are pressed into the tight space. This hurts—only a little, but it is uncomfortable.

  “Oh, Sir…”

  “Score, Hope?”

  “Three, Sir. No, four.”

  “Okay. Slow and gentle, I’ll give you time to adjust. There’s no need to be scared, Hope, you’re doing fine. Better than fine.”

  Maybe I am doing fine, but this is just two fingers, and I feel as though I’m already stretched to my absolute limit. His cock is wider, longer. Surely I can’t…

  “You’re tensing up, Hope. Starting to panic.” As ever, he’s perfectly attuned to my responses.

  I’m aware that his fingers are still inside me, but he’s not moving them. I lie still, wondering what comes next.

  “Spread your legs, honey. I think a little immediate gratification might help here.”

  Obligingly I shuffle my feet apart, widening my stance. Harry leans around me to part my labia with his free hand.

  “Oh, God,” I moan. The caress across my pussy is so sweet, so utterly sensual. “Do I have permission to come?”

  “Of course. For now.” He angles his hand so that two fingers are inside my pussy, his thumb rubbing my clit. My body responds powerfully, my orgasm pulsing forward from almost nothing to sweep through me in deliciously sensual waves. I’m groaning in delight, writhing against the pillows, my entire consciousness centered on the sensual tingling at my core. Harry continues to stroke my pussy long after the climax has passed, the caress relaxing, offering reassurance every bit as much as arousal. As the tremors of orgasm fade, I become conscious that the fingers in my arse are moving again, slow, smooth, stroking in and out. Harry managed to distract me entirely, and took advantage of my relaxed state to insert a third finger. Now the sensation of fullness, of tightness, is pleasurable rather than frightening, and wickedly intimate.

  “Score, Hope.”

  “Two, Sir. Thank you.”

  “Why are you thanking me, Hope?”

  “I was scared. So tense. That really helped.”

  “Not scared now?”

  I wriggle my hips. “No, Sir. I’m so relaxed I could fall asleep.”

  Harry chuckles and slaps my bottom, hard enough to smart. “Cheeky little sub. I don’t think you’ll be nodding off any time soon. Relaxed is good, though. We can do so much more with relaxed.”

  I lie still, utterly contented as he strokes his fingers in and out, twisting his hand to widen my entrance, and scissoring his fingers inside me. The pressure against my inner walls is heavenly. An idea occurs to me. I wonder if he might, if I could ask him to…

  “Sir?”

  “Yes, Hope? Is there a problem?”

  “No, Sir. It feels good, so good. I was wondering if you could, perhaps, if you might…?”

  “Say it, Hope.”

  “Could you use your other hand to finger-fuck my pussy at the same time? Please, Sir.”

  “Ah, now you do sound enthusiastic. Perhaps you’re developing a taste for this after all. How’s this?”

  He slips two, no three fingers deep into my cunt, pressing against my back wall. The sensation is incredible, both his hands so close but separated by a thin membrane. I shiver, the pressure intense, but so sweet. I know I’m about to climax again.

  “I’m going to come, Sir. I can’t help it. I… Oh, oh yes…” I abandon any attempt at further conversation as the glorious waves of another orgasm wash through me. I lie, shivering, Harry’s hands working their magic inside me. I’m convinced that nothing ever felt as good as this, nor ever could. My climax, so sudden, passes quickly. I turn my head, peeping back at Harry.

  “Zero, Sir.”

  He grins at me, the expression wicked. Pure lust. “Zero? Not sure I like zero. Time to ratchet things up a little.”

  “Yes, Sir, if you think that’s best.” Whatever he has in mind, he’ll get no protest from me.

  I can’t contain my whimper of disappointment as he withdraws his fingers from both my entrances, but my mood shifts slightly as I watch him pull a condom from his pocket. He tosses it on the bed beside me, then washes his hands in the small basin so helpfully supplied by the hotel. He returns to me in moments and starts to unfasten his jeans.

  “One, Sir. Two. Three.”

  “You’re going to be fine. Trust me, Hope. I won’t be forcing you. Your body responds so beautifully, I won’t need to. Could you climb right onto the bed now, please?”

  The calming effects of Harry’s fingers are dissipating fast, but I obey immediately. I lie face down without waiting for further instructions, then watch over my shoulder as Harry undresses. I wasn’t sure if he’d be naked too, but it seems that’s his intention. His T-shirt hits the carpet, he kicks off his designer trainers and drops his jeans. His boxers follow, and he kneels beside me on the bed.

  “You have a hot body, Sir. Am I allowed to say that?”

  “You are, Hope. And for the record, so do you.”

  I shake my head, even though I like that he says such nice things to me. But there’s no escaping the fact that his body isn’t marred by surgical scars—his limbs all work as they should.

  “Can you bring both your knees up under you, please? Lift your bum up.” His command is terse, efficient.

  I know that the moment has come, and despite his extensive preparations, I’m starting to panic again. My right leg is cooperating more fully than it has in ages, and I succeed in positioning mysel
f as instructed before burying my face in the duvet. “Four, Sir.”

  “Noted. I’m not going to offer to slow down, though, because that won’t help you now. My words were muffled, but he must have heard me. “Right now you need to believe that you can do this, and you’ll only believe that when it’s happened. So we do it now. No fuss, no protests. Just let me in. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, I…”

  His hand caresses my shoulder, stopping my apology. “Hush, sweetheart. You’re doing really well.” As he talks to me, his voice low, soothing, he’s applying more lube to my arse, working the slickness into my already unresisting opening. Some of my earlier arousal starts to rekindle.

  There’s a snap of foil, a slight rustle, and I know he’s sheathed himself. Moments later the head of his cock is nudging against my arse. I hold still, my body tensing, despite all my best efforts, as he uses his fingers to help ease the tip inside, past the sphincter. I groan, expecting a sudden spurt of pain, but it never happens. Instead, Harry leans around me, his middle finger connecting firmly with my clit. He rubs, circling the pad of his digit over my sensitive nub. I would not have thought I could respond, but he knows better. I do—I respond with another powerful, racking orgasm, pulsing through me, driving all thoughts of fear and pain from my head. And it’s then that Harry presses forward—whilst I’m spasming wildly, helplessly, he drives the full length of his cock into my arse.

  My body offers not a shred of resistance, not even token. It’s done in moments, my arse straining, so full, so tight, so exquisitely stretched.

  “Oh God. Oh God, that’s…”

  “Score, Hope?” he murmurs into my ear, his breath warm on my neck as he leans in to me.

  I’m not sure what to say. This is intense, my score is not going down. But if it rises, it’s to register something else. Something exciting, fulfilling, infinitely beautiful. At last I manage to come up with something.

  “Five. But it’s a good five, Sir. Thank you.”