by Ashe Barker
I look at him and realize I’m looking at Tom the Master. He expects me to do as I’m told. Right now. I make no protest as I scramble to my feet and head for the bathroom. I quickly find the familiar purple vibrator between the toothbrushes and soap, give it a quick swill under the tap—well, you never know, it seems the right thing to do—then head back to Tom in the bedroom. Suddenly uncertain, I stand before him, the vibrator in my hands, and wait for further instructions.
“That was quick. Am I to understand you’re eager to start?”
I hesitate, then, “Yes.” My voice is breathless, unsteady. And modesty has no place here.
“You can call me Master, or Sir. I prefer Sir. And in future Ashley, when we’re in here, unless I tell you to leave it down I want your hair up, off your back. It’s very beautiful, like you, but it’ll get in the way.”
I tip up my chin defiantly. “I could get it cut. Sir. “
“Don’t even think about it.” The warning note is clear, threatening.
I know when to step back and simply nod my acceptance. I reach up, start to twist my hair into the loose knot I usually manage to make with it. Tom watches me coldly, then briefly nods his approval as I finish my task.
“That’ll do fine. Now, lie on the bed and spread your legs wide. I want to be able to see you, see what you’re doing.”
“Me?” See what I’m doing…?
“Yes, you. You’ll do the work this time. And I’ll watch.”
Oh. My. God! I stare at him, horrified, mortified, beyond embarrassed. He can’t mean to make me…do that. In front of him. I’ll die of shame.
“Ashley, on the bed, please. Now.” The Dom tone is unmistakable, and he sounds as though he’s losing patience.
I’m fast learning that this Tom doesn’t like to have to repeat himself. And he doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean. He will make me do this. Even as the protest starts to form in my head I know there’s no point. None at all. Best to just do it.
I edge backwards, away from him, to the bed, and sit on the edge. The vibrator is in my hand and I look at it stupidly. I comfort myself by remembering how very, very good it felt when Tom handled it, when he used it to torment and stimulate me. Maybe I can manage—something.
“Are you starting to get wet?” That cold, formal tone is mesmerizing.
How did he know? For reasons I haven’t yet fathomed I find Tom’s Dom voice totally erotic, and the question alone is enough to deliver the answer. The wetness is already gathering between my legs, the moist warmth evidence of my growing readiness.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“That’s yes, Sir, Ashley. Try to remember. I’ve told you this twice now. That should be enough. From now on, every time I have to correct you, you will earn a spanking. Do you want a sore bottom tonight, or do you prefer to spread your legs for me and get on with this?”
Assuming the question to be rhetorical I don’t answer. Big mistake.
“Ashley, I asked you a question. Are you paying attention?”
“Yes, of course.” I’m confused, a little scared and uncertain how to react.
“I asked you, do you want me to spank you or are you going to spread your legs and make yourself come for me? Which is it, Ashley?”
I catch on fast and this time I answer, “I want to make myself come. For you. Sir.”
“Excellent choice. Okay then. Lie back and get on with it.”
I know better now than to argue. I obey, making myself comfortable, as much as I can just at this moment, my thighs open as wide as I’m able. He seems satisfied with my position as he doesn’t insist I try harder. Then I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and let my fingers do the walking.
“Yes, like that. So beautiful…” His appreciative murmur is encouraging.
Spanking abated, at least for now, I start to relax. Slightly.
“Now, I want you to touch yourself, just as I touch you. I want you to smear that sweet, warm wetness everywhere. Feel it on your hands, your fingers, and then wipe it on the vibrator. Along the shaft, around the head. Do it now, Ashley.”
I do as I’m told, and despite the exposure of having an audience, no matter how admiring, this does feel incredibly good.
“Use both your hands, Ashley. Use the middle finger of your left hand to rub your clit. Rub it hard, firmly, try from side to side, then front to back. Which is best, Ashley? Which do you like most?” Tom’s voice gentles, encouraging me to explore, to slide my fingers through my soft, warm folds, to get to know all my intimate places as thoroughly as he does.
“Side to side…” My breathy whisper is almost too faint, but he hears. Or maybe he already knew.
“Yes, that’s good. More of that then. Now, slowly push one finger from your right hand inside, into your vagina. Your middle finger. Do it gently, smoothly, slide it right in.”
Stretching, reaching, I do as he’s asked. And can’t contain the moan of pure pleasure at the feeling I’m creating for myself. Or maybe he’s doing it, who knows. Who cares. It’s here, it’s now, and it’s absolutely fabulous. I gently caress my inner walls, experiencing the double sensation of receiving and giving. I’m surprised at how warm I am, how soft and smooth. How hot and wet. Without further prompting I slide my finger in and out, backwards and forwards. Tom lets me, doesn’t try to guide or instruct me, just lets me play. As he watches. My pleasure starts to spiral, to gather a momentum of its own, and as soon as my orgasm starts to build Tom knows.
“Tell me how that feels, Ashley.” His tone has softened, gentled, his voice just a quiet murmur, little more than a whisper.
“It’s good, so good…” I’m moaning softly, writhing. I start to insert a second finger, but Tom’s voice is there again, this time denying me my pleasure. Or is he?
“Use the vibrator. Switch it on and slide it inside you. You’re wet, slick, it’ll go in easily. Try it, love. Do it now.”
I grope for the cool, hard plastic alongside me on the bed, then grasp the shaft and flick the switch on the base. The tingling vibrations shimmer through my fingers as I hold it lightly, start to position it.
“That’s good, Ashley. Just the tip first, slide it inside the entrance, between your lips. Don’t rush, take your time, savor it…”
The smooth, tingling intrusion is beyond delightful. I lie there, in front of Tom, my legs spread wide as I carefully angle the tip of the vibrator, just the first inch or so inside me, slowly rolling it around my pussy lips. I moan, I think. Or maybe it’s Tom. I like that thought, my inner showgirl now making an appearance. I hang on to it as I slowly press the toy farther inside me, inch by tingling inch. Without conscious intent I find I’m squeezing it hard, my internal muscles clenching, gripping. I am indeed ssavoring this. At last the vibrator is fully inside me, stretching me, sending powerful ripples of sensation along my pussy right up into my uterus. I lie still for a few moments, adjust. And I can feel Tom’s gaze on me, on what’s happening to my body.
“Leave it there for a moment, stroke your clit again. Just lightly, imagine your fingers are covered in feathers.” Tom’s voice again, sensual and soothing, his wicked suggestions penetrate my hazy consciousness and I slowly move my fingers to obey once more.
In seconds the delicious tug of my orgasm is there, starting to build again, surging around the vibrator, circling and centering in my clit. I moan, it is definitely me this time, and give myself over to the irresistible, inevitable swirling of sensation deep inside me, at my core, then radiating outwards to my fingers and toes. And all the time basking in the heady sense of power because I’ve done this myself. For myself.
The pressure builds, mounts, until with a soft cry I shatter, fireworks exploding behind my eyes, not unlike a migraine but without the pain. This time it’s just an intense flash of brilliant white light, then it’s as though I implode, all sensation gathering around that fabulous throbbing toy as I spiral away. I feel weightless, twisting and spinning, then slowly start floating back down to earth. I drag in a deep
, ragged breath, unable to open my eyes yet. I’m still touching my pussy, still caressing, but slowly now, as if to smooth away the last remnants of my climax. I’m conscious of the vibrator still inside me, but the tingling has stopped. It’s quiet, the delicious humming silenced. Tom’s there, close to me, leaning over me, his breath in my ear, his soft words creeping into my mind like a dream.
“That was beautiful, baby, thank you. Let me take over…?”
Chapter Nine
I nod, I think, mutter something incoherent. He kisses my ear, nuzzles my neck as the vibrator slowly retreats. He slides the cool silicone from my body, only to replace it immediately with his cock. He’s larger, wider than the toy and I’m stretching again, adjusting to take him. He waits then eases fully inside. I tighten around his shaft and whimper. He leans in again.
“Am I hurting you, baby?”
I take a moment to answer, needing to gather my thoughts, regain the power of speech. “No, no. It’s wonderful. Please, I need…”
“Shhh, hush, love. I know what you need. Let me do this for you…”
I lie still, boneless under him. I realize, dimly, that my hands are still free. This is unusual for Tom, but I like it. For a change. He edges me farther back onto the bed, using his weight to anchor me as he starts to move within me. He is incredibly gentle now, unhurried, taking his time. He withdraws, almost completely, before smoothly sliding back in, right to the hilt. The head of his penis nudges my cervix, and he slides his hands under my knees to spread me wider, raising me up to penetrate me more deeply. I gasp, the pressure intense, but he doesn’t hesitate. He knows he’s not hurting me. He continues to thrust and I squeeze down on him hard to increase the friction. Holding me in position, he changes his angle of penetration slightly but it’s enough. Now each stroke hits some incredibly sensitive spot where it seems all my nerve endings converge. Unerring, accurate, he delivers stroke after stroke of delicious, sensuous pleasure. I raise my hands behind my head, clawing at the duvet behind me, grasping for anything, any purchase in this mindless world I’m in. Tom never breaks his rhythm but manages a slight roll of his hips too, which is enough to nudge me over the edge again.
This time I scream his name, grasping for him. My climax again grabs me, my inner walls clamping down hard around him. I’m shaking, really shuddering as the intense shock waves shoot through me once more.
“That’s it, baby. Let it go, let it all go.” Tom’s soft voice is encouraging, urging me on and the feelings, if anything, gather more force, gripping me once more. My awareness of him is sharpened. He’s here, inside me, a part of me. I need him, need this. And I love him. Simply love him.
Even in the midst of my own powerful climax I’m waiting for some signal that Tom has reached his too. Some shout, some curse, some jerk of uncontrolled movement perhaps. But it doesn’t happen. He just slows, eventually stops, his weight still holding me in place, my legs still pushed upwards and outwards for his total possession. He shifts one arm then the other to release my legs but makes no move to withdraw or to let me move. Long moments pass then I open my eyes, look up into his face. He’s smiling and he lowers his head to kiss me, softly and deeply.
“Welcome back, love.” His smile is warm, his expression amused but tender as he raises his head.
I feel suddenly self-conscious at my total abandonment, at having let him see me come completely undone. Especially as whatever passion I’ve felt has not been shared. I’m sure he hasn’t come—even as out of it as I was I would not have missed that.
“You didn’t… You haven’t…”
“One of us has to exercise some control here. We’re not done yet.”
Not done? Well I am. Definitely. Except, apparently, I’m not. Not until Tom says so.
Moving swiftly, easily, Tom lifts my hips and places his knees under me. He’s kneeling, his cock buried deep within me, fully erect, fully aroused. Still ready, whereas I’m, well, frankly, I’m wrung out like a dishrag. I’m draped bonelessly across his legs, my own legs spread wide as he gazes down at the place where we’re joined. He shuffles backwards slightly, pulling me with him until my feet are dangling off the side of the bed. I can’t reach the floor. I can raise my legs and hook my ankles together behind his back but that’s about it. I’m otherwise helpless, impaled on his shaft, open and available, laid out just for him. I realize once more, that he’s working through a plan. He knows exactly what comes next.
Sure enough, his hands are there. He uses his fingers to gently circle the lips of my vagina, now stretched tightly around the thick shaft of his cock. The pressure on my already stretched and sensitive inner lips makes his touch even more exquisite, almost like being tickled. I try to wriggle but find it hard to move with my feet dangling in midair. He smiles, my helpless position deliberate.
“You’re going nowhere, Ashley. Lie still.”
I try to push myself up on my elbows but he obviously expected that. He reaches for me, pulls me right up into a sitting position, straddling him, my breasts pressed against his chest. And he grabs my wrists, places them behind my back and ties them together. I never even saw the piece of rope but he must have made sure it was to hand before he started this. There’s a slight roughness as the rope tightens, then he slides his fingers under the knots to make sure they’re not too tight. Then he gently but firmly lowers me back onto the bed.
“Now, you’ll keep still. Ashley, listen to me. This is going to be intense. If it’s too much, you’ll have to use your safe word to stop me. Do you understand?”
I frown at him, speechless. What does he mean, ‘too much’? How can pleasure become unbearable?
“Do you understand, Ashley?”
Now his voice is hardening, and I feel vulnerable, helpless. My Dom is back, demanding, in control. I thought I knew my ground, at least in this. It seems there are new rules now, a new game that I don’t know how to play. I suspect I’m about to learn. Fast.
“Ashley?”
“No, I’m not sure, I…”
“What’s your safe word?”
“It’s Smithy’s Forge.” At least that’s been drummed into me.
“Remember it. And when you’ve had enough, use it.”
No point arguing, asking questions. It’s all going to be clear enough soon anyway, I guess. I nod, let my weight fall back onto my shoulders as I lie under him, try to relax. He starts slowly, experimentally using the fingers of both hands to feather light strokes around the lips of my pussy. Reflexively I clench around him, the feeling of fullness exquisite. I’m expecting him to move to my clitoris, but instead he lifts me into a sitting position again, my breasts once more pressed against his chest. This time, though, he reaches around me and down, to trail his fingers between my buttocks to my anus. He circles the entrance there briefly before slipping his fingertip inside. I jerk, again squeezing his cock with my inner muscles.
“Mmm, every time you respond I feel it. That’s beautiful, baby.”
His seductive murmur is soft in my ear. I lean in closer to him, the intimacy of this moment almost overpowering. With his free hand he caresses my back, my shoulder blades, before reaching up to tunnel through my hair. The loosely wound knot is destroyed—my hair tumbles down across his arms. He twists it around his hand to tilt my head back. He kisses me, his tongue plunging deep into my mouth, to now penetrate me in three different ways. I moan, deep in my throat as he slides his finger more deeply into me, the powerful blend of sensations scrambling my senses. Desperate once more for release, I squirm in his lap, my bound hands useless to help me.
He raises his head, breaks the kiss and gently lowers me back to the bed, his finger still in my anus. He trails his other hand leisurely across my breasts. He stops there for a few moments to pinch my sensitive, hard nipples before returning to my throbbing clit. Two, three swift, firm strokes of this thumb and I come, crying out as the orgasm grips me, grips him through my clenching inner muscles. He groans softly, never letting up the pressure on my clitoris.
The fever builds again, and within seconds I’m tumbling once more over the edge. He lets my clitoris be for a few moments while he concentrates on driving his finger deep into my anus, pulling me back into a sitting position for better access. I open my eyes and glance up at him, catching his heavy, sensuous gaze. He’s concentrating on me, entirely, intensely. He lays me back down to resume his relentless massage. This time he takes my swollen clit between his finger and thumb, his eyes on mine. At last he lowers his gaze to watch his handiwork unfolding.
And I know what he meant by ‘too much’. I’m exhausted, my body wrung out, my mind in a daze. I want to sleep. I need to sleep. I’m jerked back to full awareness by the sheer intensity of what he’s doing to me but I don’t want to be there anymore. Against my will almost, he draws another pulsing orgasm from me, his face contorting as the pressure within me transfers to him, and I clench and writhe around him. I wait until the tremors start to fade, and know I can do no more.
“Smithy’s Forge.”
He inclines his head slightly in agreement, in understanding. He gently withdraws his finger, sweetly circling my anus with his retreating fingertip to politely take his leave. He lifts me up again, holding me against his chest with one hand whilst he deftly releases my wrists with the other. My hands free, I reach up, link them around his neck and hang on, hugging him tightly to me. He’s still inside me, hard and powerful and very, very aroused. I realize that despite having pleasured me to the point of exhaustion he’s still not climaxed himself, and I can only wonder at his fortitude.
As if reading my thoughts, he murmurs in my ear, “Do you mind if I…”
“Please, please do,” I whisper, not even letting him finish the request.
In the next instant I’m flat on my back and he’s thrusting hard. He comes on the second thrust, the rush of his semen hot as it fills the condom. I make a mental note to sort out some contraception when I register with the GP, and that’s my last coherent thought before exhaustion overtakes me.
