Rich Tapestry

by Ashe Barker

  My returning grin is shaky, hesitant. I have no idea what’s happening here or what comes next. Just that I feel good. And safe. And sore. He picks up on that.

  “Do you feel suitably chastised, little sub?”

  “I do, Sir.” I decide not to quarrel with his description of me. I certainly feel submissive at this moment.

  “You can offer your apology again now, if you like…” He is still smiling at me, his expression gentle, tender almost. He has shifted his attentions to my other nipple, which is throbbing and swollen too, pebbling under his firm touch.

  I have to think for a moment, my transgressions in the bar seem so long ago now. So much has happened—so much has shifted since then. I grope for the memory, find it.

  “I’m sorry I was rude, Sir. Downstairs, in the bar. And, thank you for spanking me.” I did not intend to say that last thing. I’m not sure which of us is the most surprised to hear it. Me, probably.

  “You’re welcome. Any time. Is that all you want to thank me for?”

  No, it certainly isn’t. Since I’m feeling grateful and sated, as well as chastised and more than slightly sore… “Thank you for making me come, Sir. Just now and earlier. Before…”

  “Before I bent you over the bench and blistered your arse? Which is now a delightful shade of deep pink, incidentally. Sets your lovely swallows off perfectly.”

  “Yes, Sir. Before that.” I suspect my face is a similar shade, I can feel the flush creeping up toward my hairline. Who’d have ever imagined I could still blush after all we’ve just done?

  “Again, you’re welcome. You’re blushing, Summer…”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know why…”

  “Don’t apologize for that. It’s nice. And honest. And so pretty.” He pauses to brush his knuckles across my cheek. “So, are you perhaps feeling a little delicate just now? Physically and emotionally? First time and all that?”

  I shift on the couch, the tenderness in my bum confirming that he’s right about the physical impact, at least. My emotional state is as much a mystery to me now, as it usually is. I shove that issue onto the growing pile of things to be considered properly later.

  “Yes, Sir. A little.”

  “Come with me then. I know just the thing for you. A relaxing soak. Yes?”

  Sounds heavenly. I push myself up onto one elbow, conscious that I’m still naked, and noticing for the first time that he has removed his shirt. The black silk was sexy enough, but Dan Riche’s bare chest is much more so. I take a moment to stare, appreciating the view. He is tanned, a light dusting of dark hair across the upper part of his chest, softening the finely honed pecs. His stomach is flat and firm, just a hint of muscle there, tightened and bunching as he crouches in front of me. His arms are powerful—I already knew that by the way he effortlessly lifted me from the bench and carried me across the room. I take in the corded, solid muscles shifting under his skin. He looks supremely fit, active. I suppose vets do need some brute strength – I remember he way he lifted the badger from my car the first time we met. Or maybe he just likes to work out.

  “Do you like to go to the gym, Dan?” I blurt out the question, then realize I’ve broken the rules about talking without permission. And I forgot to call him Sir. I slap my hand over my mouth, my heart lurching as the implications hit me.

  He grins wickedly at me. “Not easy, is it? Technically we’re still in a scene, so the rules apply. But I’ve no intention of punishing you again this evening, so you can relax. Are you able to stand yet?”

  I notice he hasn’t answered my question, but despite his reassurance, I’m not pushing it. “I think so. Where are we going?”

  “I booked us a spa suite. I thought you’d appreciate the relaxation at this stage in the proceedings. You looked so tense earlier, down in the bar.” He stands and extends his hand to me.

  I take it and struggle to my feet. He gives me a moment to regain full control of my legs then tugs me across the room toward a door in the far corner. I’d assumed that to be the en-suite loo but as we enter, I realize it’s a lot more than that.

  I’m in a bathroom but one with bells on. There’s a sauna cubicle in one corner, big enough for two to stretch out, and a wet room area opposite that. A padded couch along one wall is clearly intended for massage and the various oils and creams on the shelf above suggest that would be a luxurious, not to mention sensuous, experience. But the dominant feature is the bath. The huge, sunken Jacuzzi bath, to be exact, in the center of the room. It’s already full, hot and steamy, and bubbling furiously. The tang of citrus in the air is delicious, and I can only gape.

  He must have prepared this while I was asleep. For me. I turn to him, incredulous. I came up here with Dan expecting pain. And pleasure. I’ve had those. What I did not expect was to feel cared for. This has completely shattered my illusions about Dominance and submission. I was confused before—now I’m totally at sea. The more time I spend with Dan Riche, the more he satisfies my curiosity, the more cans of worms he opens up. The whole thing is an enigma, as much a mystery to me now as it ever was. Maybe more so. I don’t know how to react. I have no mechanism to cope with this. So I stand, open-mouthed, and I stare.

  If Dan notices my confusion, he makes no comment. Instead, he unfastens his jeans and slides them off. His feet are already bare, I notice. His bright red boxer shorts follow, and Dan is suddenly before me, gloriously naked—and totally unconcerned. He strolls over to the Jacuzzi, adjusts one of the controls and steps over the side into the bath. He walks down a couple of steps, then turns to gift me with a last look as he bends to lower himself into the foaming water.

  I’ve made it my business not to look at men in any state of undress. I always kept my eyes tight shut in the past, and though I’m no virgin in many respects, I might as well be. I know what it feels like to be fucked, functionally, dispassionately, but this sensual relaxation, this enjoyment of another, this pampering is totally alien to me.

  I’m no expert, but I feel confident in describing Dan Riche as magnificent. Quite superb. Sex on a stick. His chest and shoulders were luscious enough, but his legs and buttocks are quite, quite mouth-watering. I wonder again how he manages to develop and maintain that perfect definition, that sinewy toughness, without the pumped up appearance that so many powerfully built men seem to have. But there’s no point in my waxing lyrical about his other attributes, stunning though they are. My main focus is his cock, and I’ve been staring unashamedly at that. He knows it, knows what I’ve been thinking. Wondering. Imagining. What I’m now wanting more than anything. His confident grin confirms this, as far as I can see. He seems to be a man with no unhelpful body image hang-ups to get in his way. He’s desirable, and I desire him. It’s that simple.

  But back to his cock. I can no longer see it, but I caught a good enough glimpse to know it’s large, thick. The shiny, smooth head looked to be already slick and wet. It was fully erect before he so inconsiderately sank it below the foaming surface of the water. I’m seized with a distinct and quite unassailable need to have him sink its solid length into me. Right to the hilt. Christ!

  “Join me, Summer.”

  His tone is even and low, but there it is, that subtle but unmistakable air of command. He expects me to obey. I expect me to obey.

  I step cautiously forward, hesitating on the edge of the tub. He stands up, treating me to another view of that beautiful cock. He holds out a hand. “Steady, Summer. Take my hand and don’t slip. The last thing I want is to have you carted off the A & E with a concussion. It gets the club a bad reputation when our subs leave in an ambulance.”

  “Ha ha.” I manage a sarcastic retort, probably foolhardy, but I’m past caring. I’m not above accepting his assistance though. Concussion is, after all, no joke.

  I descend the two steps, gasping at the heat of the water as it bubbles first around my ankles, then my knees. When I’m thigh-deep I sink into the scented foam. Dan returns to his previous position opposite me. We drift there in
silence for a couple of minutes, just our heads above the surface, watching each other.

  “Feeling better now? How are your aches and pains?” Dan is first to speak, his words accompanied by a slide of his toe up my leg.

  I close my eyes, waiting for him to reach my inner thigh. He stops, maddeningly, a little above my knee.

  “Summer? You didn’t answer me.” He nudges my thigh with his foot, stretching his leg to reach a fraction higher.

  “I’m feeling much better.”

  “I thought you might appreciate a bath to help you unwind. You looked so scared earlier. Downstairs. Before I came over to rescue you.”

  “I was fine. Minding my own business.”

  “You were not fine. You were wound up so tight I thought you might snap.”

  “I was all right until you came over. You didn’t rescue me—you terrified me.” Maybe you still do.

  “I don’t think so. I make you nervous, because you don’t know what I’m going to tell you to do next. And you have to obey me. You know that now, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Sir.” I whisper my response.

  “You were never terrified of me, Summer. Well, not this evening certainly. I think maybe you were a little bit terrified the first time we met, at the zoo. You roared out of that car park like the flames of Hell were behind you, though I wonder if it was me you were scared of. Or yourself. But not any longer. You couldn’t have responded as you did, as you are now, if you’d been truly afraid.” His foot edges a little higher, now laying a lazy trail across the sensitive skin of my upper thigh.

  I gasp, but he chooses to ignore that.

  “You were tense, apprehensive, afraid of the unknown perhaps. But it’s not a mystery now, is it? Now you can relax. Are you feeling calmer? Maybe unwinding a little?” His voice is sensual, warm. There’s a richness in the tone that promises to thrill and delight if I let it. Let him.

  “Yes, I am. I’m chilling nicely.” I give in to the impulse to open my legs.

  “Chilling? Should I raise the temperature a little for you then?”

  “No, it’s fine. Lovely in fact. That was a figure of speech.”

  “So was mine, love. I repeat, would you like me to warm you up a little more?”

  Ah! I regard him hungrily across the bubbles. I would indeed.

  “Yes, please. Sir.”

  “You do have delightful manners, Miss Jones, with a little gentle coaching. Come over here then.”

  I don’t need asking twice. I scramble across the tub to his side, where he lifts me by the waist and turns me to face away from him. He positions me on his lap, his knees between mine. He uses his feet to nudge my ankles apart, and his knees to spread my legs wider. Having laid me out to his satisfaction he leans back against the side of the bath.

  “Now, Summer, you get to make requests. I’ll touch you in any way you want. You just need to tell me what you’d like. Exactly.”

  I’m becoming a little more accustomed to talking about this now, to saying outrageous things out loud, so I manage to articulate my first request without any real hesitation.

  “I’d love it if you’d stroke my clit, Sir. With your fingers.”

  “Like this?” He reaches around me to lay his middle finger across my clit. He rubs, just lightly at first, increasing the pressure as I writhe on his lap.

  “Yes, Sir. Just like that.”

  “More? Harder?”

  “Not harder, that’s perfect, just…oh yes, just there…”

  He glides the pad of his finger across the tip of my clit, every nerve ending there leaping to attention as he alters the direction to now circle the swollen nub. It feels absolutely divine, erotic yet achingly tender, a gift of pure pleasure, just for me. I throw my head back against his shoulder, thrusting my hips forward.

  “I want you to come for me. Now.”

  “I can’t. I’m not ready…”

  “Now, Summer.”

  His insistent murmur is delivered right into my ear, his skilled fingers continuing to work my clit. And suddenly, my climax is there, my pussy clenching wildly before the waves of pure sensation tingle through me again. My body arches, shuddering under the impact. I feel as though I’m truly weightless, suspended, supported by the sparkling water and by his solid body wedged underneath me.

  I never even knew my orgasm was imminent. He just commanded, and it happened. I’m beginning to appreciate the power of this Dom/sub dynamic. And to fear it.

  “Kneel on the step and lean forward, on all fours.”

  I’ve no sooner come down from my first climax than he’s issuing more orders. I make no protest, though, just scramble to obey. In moments I’m perched with my knees on the step below the water and my forearms on the edge of the bath. Dan eases me forward to raise my bottom out of the bubbles, dropping a light kiss on my buttock, just where my third swallow swoops in a graceful arc.

  “Still pretty and pink. I can make out my hand print, just here…” He traces the outline with his fingertip. “I was incredibly gentle with you, but still, I think you’ll be carrying my marks around for a day or two yet.”

  “Will there be bruises?” I strain my neck trying to see my own bum.

  “No, love. No bruises.” He chuckles as he pats my delicate rear end. “Now, open your legs, please.”

  “Are you going to fuck me now?” Please.

  “No. You told me you didn’t want me to fuck you, so I won’t.”

  “But I do. I do now, I mean. Please.”

  “Ah, then I’d be delighted. Next time.”

  “What? I mean now. Please, Sir.”

  “It doesn’t matter how nicely you ask, and I have to say, you are pleading very, very prettily, the answer is still no. It’ll go on being no. We agreed the extent of this scene before we started, so no fucking. Not this time.”

  “Then what? I mean, why…?”

  “For this.” He sinks his fingers into my slick pussy, twisting and angling to reach my G-spot. He uses his other hand to work on my clit, taking the delicate bud between his finger and thumb. This time he rolls and squeezes, and it hurts. Almost. Maybe. I’m not sure. Is it pleasure when it’s painful too? I groan but make no effort to shift my position or protect my sensitive clit from his attentions.

  He continues, tugging and twisting my clit until I let out a small whimper.

  “Don’t forget, you have safe words to use if you need to. Unless I hear red or amber, I’m continuing with this. Okay?” His unsympathetic reaction is, if anything, even more erotic. He knows he’s hurting me, and he’s doing it anyway. To see how far he can push me?

  I drop my head onto my arms and concentrate on taking deep, even breaths, surrendering to whatever might be in store. And hoping that, if I do as he asks, all of it, maybe he’ll relent and agree to fuck me.

  The pressure on my clit increases again, but then holds steady. It’s painful, very painful, but bearable. I can manage this. I can. I know I can. He continues to finger-fuck me too, sliding first two, then three, fingers in and out of my cunt as I clench around him. Despite my abused, throbbing clit, I love what he’s doing, but I need more. I need his cock.

  “Please, I want…could you…?”

  “No. Not tonight. Next time, I promise. If you still want it then. Are you going to come again, my sweet little slut?”

  “I don’t think so. Not yet. My clit hurts…”

  “Does it? That won’t stop you coming though, will it?”

  “I… It might. I think…”

  “Is there something else you might prefer me to do to your clit? You have only to ask, remember?”

  “Lick it. Please. And suck it too. Like before.”

  “Excellent suggestion. Like this?”

  He releases his death grip on my engorged clit and places his palms on my hips. He flips me over so I’m lying on my back, my bottom on the highest step. He drapes my legs over his shoulders to hold my lower body out of the water. The position also serves to spread my thighs wide. He gazes
for a moment at my pussy before dipping his head to slide the flat part of his tongue across the whole of it, from my arse right to my clit. It’s intense, perfect, hot, decadent and pure pleasure. Undiluted and irresistible. I know I’m about to come again. I jerk in uncontrolled response as my pussy starts to spasm. Dan leans in a little more, angling his head to take my clit into his mouth. He holds it between his teeth and sucks hard.

  I shatter. Totally. I’m screaming his name, and mine too, if I can remember it. I’m pumping my hips, desperately seeking the thing he steadfastly refuses to give me, whilst basking in the sheer delight of everything else that’s happening to me. Despite my frantic writhing and wriggling, he never misses a stroke, never relinquishes one iota of control as he draws my shuddering response from me.

  At last it’s done, I’m done. I lay—half in half out of the Jacuzzi—basking in the afterglow of more orgasmic energy than I imagined I’d ever expend in an entire lifetime, let alone one evening. And it occurs to me that he hasn’t come. Not once. He’s been attending to my pleasure, and pain, since the moment, more or less, that he came over to sit next to me in the bar, but he’s had nothing in return. Surely, now, he’ll want to…

  “Please fuck me. Sir.” My voice is small, quiet. In fairness, I’m exhausted. But I do want this. Surely he won’t refuse.

  “Next time.” He will refuse. He can, and he has.

  “But you haven’t… I mean…”

  He’s lying propped alongside me on the wide rim of the Jacuzzi, his hip next to mine. We are both now almost completely out of the water, just our feet still submerged. I reach out for him, taking his hard, thick cock in my fist.

  “I’ll survive. Though if you want to… Christ, yes, Summer, that’s good.”