by Alison Tyler
* * *
In the morning, I found Sasha in a transparent nightgown on the veranda, standing and looking out at the water. I could see through the filmy material that her ass was still red. This brought back instant memories of the night before. My pussy clenched. Once the debauchery had ended, I’d spent the remainder of the previous night fucking myself with the vibrator while listening to my favorite songs. The iPod had been preprogrammed with music I adored. Someone knew my music tastes better than Pandora.
Sasha was drinking from a champagne flute. She didn’t turn to me until I reached her side. When she did, her face lit up.
“Did you sleep well, Ellis?”
I stared at her. Sleep? Was another day going to pass where we were not going to talk about what I’d seen? Were we going to pretend that this was some normal vacation, where we’d take a boat out to the glass factory and buy paperweights and overpriced knickknacks?
“I don’t think she slept for more than twenty minutes.”
The voice surprised me. I turned to address Stefan.
“How do you know that?” I asked before I could stop myself. Was it rude to challenge so generous a host?
“Because I watched you.”
Without hesitation, I took Sasha’s champagne glass from her and began to drink. I had to work not to chatter the rim of the glass against my teeth. Sasha was smiling at me. I’d never seen her look so peaceful before. Was someone going to tell me how he had watched me? Was there another two-way mirror in the bedroom? Were the guest rooms fitted with video cameras?
But nobody spoke. Stefan reached for Sasha and brought her close to him. While I stood there, drinking her champagne, he bent her over the stone railing and lifted the back of her nightgown, exposing her beautiful ass. I’d worked out with Sasha at the gym before—she brought me in with her as a guest, like a city mouse taking pity on a poor Nautilus-deprived country mouse. I knew how hard she sweated to keep her body in shape. Now, I knew why.
“Did you enjoy watching me punish her?” he asked.
I stared at my feet. I was wearing my last best pair of shoes. Even these were scuffed, and if you flipped them over, you’d see holes in the soles.
“The answer isn’t on your knock-off patent-leather mules,” he said.
“I know.” I liked the way he spoke, the way he described my footwear.
“How did you react?” he asked next. “What were you thinking?” While I watched, he stroked Sasha’s ass. I felt a catch in my throat. How I wanted him to do that to me. But people didn’t behave like this. Not in the really real world.
“I don’t know,” I stammered.
“Then let’s try it again so we can see.”
Part of me wanted to run back to my room, to repack my bags, to get out of this place. I had never experienced anything like this before. I didn’t know how to behave. The other part of me wanted to stay exactly where I was. Due to the fact that I truly had no place to go—this was the end of my rock-island line—I held my ground. Stefan seemed pleased.
“I’ll spank her. You watch. Then you tell me how you feel.”
I sucked in my breath. He let his hand connect with her naked ass. He didn’t hit her hard, and I was aware that something in me wished he had. He smacked her again. Then he smiled at me. He was playing a game, giving her soft little love pats. I wanted to see him let loose. What was going on inside of me? I felt all twisted and bent. I wanted to watch a man who was practically a stranger punish my best friend.
“This is Venice,” a voice said behind me. I turned and saw the chef with a bottle of champagne. She motioned to my glass and I held it out, waiting for the refill. I felt as if I hadn’t drunk a sip. Not that my head was clear, but that my edge was still sharp. Nothing in my brain was fuzzy or hazy. I craved release.
“Thank you, Bonnie,” Stefan said.
I drained the second glass while I tried to process the tableau in front of me.
“Do you like this, Ellis?” Stefan asked.
I wanted him to smack her, to give her a proper thrashing. He tapped her again. I felt like an animal, caged. “Am I doing something wrong?” he asked innocently. Anger flickered through me. He was fucking with me, and I didn’t know how to respond.
“You’re not spanking her the way you did before,” I said.
“How did I spank her?”
Was he really asking me this? I wanted to be able to talk freely, but I realized that I never had. I’d always measured out my thoughts, considered my words. And where had that gotten me? Stefan seemed to understand what I was thinking.
“Here, things are different,” he said. “You’ll get used to the way we behave. I know you will. Relax. Enjoy yourself. And answer my question.”
“That first night, you spanked her hard,” I said, “so that I could hear the sound all the way to my bedroom.”
“That was the point, wasn’t it?”
Oh, so he’d been calling to me with the sounds of his hand on her ass. I felt my pussy spasm. I could not believe that I’d be able to get off again. Not after fucking myself with the vibrator for most of the night, falling into twitchy slumber, only to wake up in a state of lust-drenched hunger once more. Bonnie refilled my glass. I sipped and waited. What was the game we were playing now? What were the rules?
“Tell me precisely what you saw.”
“You had her over your lap, and you were spanking her hard, and she was crying.”
“Did you like that?”
I nodded, embarrassed to admit how much pleasure her pain had given me.
“What did watching do for you?”
“It made my…”
“Say it.”
I sucked in my breath. “It made my pussy wet.” I felt defiant as I spoke the words, tilting my chin at Stefan. I felt both powerful and insolent at the same time. If I were him, I’d have slapped my face. But he seemed decidedly proud I’d finally found my voice.
“What else did I do?”
“On the first night, you played with her….” I didn’t want to describe what I’d seen, but the way Stefan was looking at me somehow drew the words from my lips. “You were playing with her asshole, telling her that Lou was going to fuck her there.”
“Good girl,” Stefan said, and I felt a strange flush of dignity swell over me. Bonnie took that moment to put an arm around my waist and kiss me, and I felt lost and shaky once more.
“You are my guest,” Uncle Stefan said, breaking my reverie. “You are not responsible for doing any chores, paying for any food or entertainment. There is only one thing I expect of you.” I stared at him. “You must answer when I ask you a question.”
That seemed simple, didn’t it? More than fair. Until he said, “How about you? Do you like to have your asshole fucked?”
I didn’t want to answer that. Nobody had ever spoken like that to me in my entire life. Yes, I’d had boyfriends. But I’d had the kind of boyfriends I thought you were supposed to date. Nice, sweet, with good jobs—at least, they’d all been that way on the surface. But something had gone wrong every time. Not in the bedroom, not necessarily. I’d never meshed. I’d thought it was me. This is why I’d written my stories.
Sasha looked over her shoulder. I had never seen her like this before. She was letting a man touch her, control her, debase her. The heat in her eyes showed me that she liked the situation. I knew she could answer Uncle Stefan’s question for me. I’d been honest with Sasha about all of my past relationships. She could have said, “No, Ellis has only dated men who like to do her missionary style, with all the lights out.” But she kept quiet.
“No,” I said, looking at my feet, at the marbled patio.
There was silence then, and I wondered if I’d done something wrong until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, surprised. The pretty chef was strok
ing my arm. She seemed to be trying to offer me comfort, or at least support.
I looked at our host. He was smiling. “Was that difficult for you?” I nodded. “It will get easier. I promise.”
I couldn’t hold my tongue. “What will?”
“Giving in.”
The chef refilled my champagne glass once more as Sasha stood up and rearranged her nightgown. The gossamer fabric billowed around her when she moved. I watched as she gave me the tiniest smile and then headed back into the villa. Stefan came over to the chef and said something to her. She nodded. I watched as he followed Sasha. I could feel my heart starting to pound faster. All of this felt like a dream. Maybe I would wake up in my cousin’s tiny apartment. I’d search for change in my drawers, in the bottom of my purse, knowing there was none to be found. I’d wonder whether I could slink back to one of my exes and beg for a few days on his futon. The nightmare of my life would make this fantasy dream fade away.
In the entryway to the villa, Stefan caught Sasha in his arms and kissed her.
Everything else felt like fairy-tale fluff, but the jealousy I felt watching Stefan kiss Sasha was real.
Bonnie pushed my hair out of my eyes. “You’ve been sad lately, haven’t you?”
“Sad doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I told her, as I saw Stefan and Sasha continue on their way. Why not be honest? I had nothing to lose. Plus the champagne helped make the words easier to accept.
“Stefan wants me to take care of you,” she said.
“Take care…”
“You’ll see.” She put her hand in mine and led me into the house. She didn’t lead me upstairs to my room but down a hallway. I noticed the art on the walls—barely. I saw the rich furnishings, knew the wealth that went into decorating a place this posh. But the chef took me to a small room in the back. The bedroom was simply outfitted—a bed that nearly filled the space, a vase on the small dresser overflowing with sweet peas, their fragrance lighting up the room. White sheets. Silver handcuffs.
I looked at her.
“You don’t have to do a thing,” she said. “Let me.”
“I’ve never been with a woman,” I lied. Why wasn’t I telling her the truth? I’d dabbled in college when I thought that’s what you were supposed to do.
“Liar.”
I stared at her.
“Sasha told us your past. I know who you are.”
“Who am I?”
“You’ll find out.”
She started to undress me. I was so shocked by her words that I let her, let her position me on her bed on my stomach. Let her cuff my wrists over my head.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“Everything you’ve ever wanted.”
My pussy was so wet that I was embarrassed. I knew I’d be making a puddle on her white sheets. “What do I want?” I asked into the pillow. The champagne seemed to have finally kicked in, and I felt lazy and slow. When Bonnie began to stroke her hands along my back, I sighed and arched my hips.
“You want me to spank your bare bottom. And then you want me to get between your legs and lick your sweet slit until you come. After that, you want me to tongue your asshole. You’ve never had that before, and you want to know what being rimmed properly feels like.”
I groaned.
“Stefan is going to fuck you there. You know that, right? He is going to take your ass the way other men have fucked your pussy. He’s big, so he’s going to stretch you open. But not until you’re ready. Not until you’re begging.”
I shut my eyes as she started to finger my pussy. Nobody had ever spoken to me like this before. I thought of my last boyfriend. The only kink in his makeup was the fact that he liked me to wear my shoes in bed: high heels, the one good pair I had. No man had ever talked as dirty as Bonnie was. She worked her fingers in and out of me, and then she brought her hand up and smacked my ass. I thought of the way Stefan had spanked Sasha—both in her room and out on the balcony. Where were they? What were they doing now?
She spanked me again, and I forgot to worry about Sasha.
“Have you been punished before?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“But you want to be, don’t you?”
It was as if she knew about the books I kept hidden under my bed. Or I had kept hidden, when I’d had a bed of my own. Books I’d gotten rid of when I moved in with my cousin. I couldn’t stand the thought of her finding my secret stash, so I’d put them, one by one, into recycling bins that I passed on the street.
“Yes,” I said into the pillow.
“Tell me,” Bonnie instructed.
Facing away from her made saying the words easier. “I’ve always wanted to be with a lover who was…” I didn’t know how to describe what I desired.
“Who was…” Bonnie prompted, her hand landing another stinging blow on my ass.
“In charge,” I said.
“Good girl.” She sounded just like Stefan. Bonnie spanked harder and faster now, and I groaned again and arched my body on the mattress. In between smacks, she used her fingers as if to test for wetness, and I could feel my juices spreading.
“You’re like a little lake,” she said, “here between your thighs. I can’t wait to taste you.”
I shivered as she climbed onto the bed and moved my body so that I was half on my knees, a bastardized yoga position. She squirmed beneath me, her mouth to my pussy, and then she began to trick her tongue in magical circles. “Oh, god,” I moaned, “that feels so good.” I wished I could say something more eloquent than that. Bonnie licked and sucked, and then suddenly she stopped. I pushed downward, unable to stop myself, wanting the sensation to continue, bucking my pussy against her mouth. She gripped my hips and held me firmly in place. Her tongue was out of reach.
“You have to earn your climax,” she said.
“What,” I panted, “what do you mean?”
“Ten strokes on your ass will equal the sweetest fucking climax you’ve ever felt.”
What did that mean? Ten strokes of what?
She wriggled from between my legs and I watched, eyes huge and desperate, as she opened up the tiny closet. Within, I saw the tools and toys I’d fantasized about for years. She had paddles and crops, a whippet-thin cane, bondage devices. But Bonnie was a tease. Before I could focus on each one, Bonnie grabbed what she wanted and then shut the door. I wished I could spend hours looking at each of her possessions, running my fingers over the handles, inspecting every angle.
“This is a crop,” she said, bringing the weapon in front of my eyes. I stared. She pushed me so that I was prone on the bed once more, wrists over my head. “This is going to hurt,” she said next. I swallowed hard. I wanted to look away, but I was mesmerized. “I expect you to count for me. Ten strokes. Can you do that?”
I nodded.
“Good girl,” she said again, sounding so much like Stefan I blinked at her. “We’ve been together a long, long time,” she said with a smile, as if reading the thought as it passed through my mind.
I didn’t know what to do next. Did I stare at her, push my head into the pillow, look at the wall, gaze at the flowers…? She struck the first blow, and the worries evaporated, replaced by a pure sensation of pain. I hadn’t known what to expect. The burning of the stroke made me forget my job. I was to count. But I didn’t. “That’s one,” Bonnie said for me.
“One,” I echoed hollowly.
She struck a second time; I managed to squeak out a “two.” I could not believe the intensity of the pain—but I also could not fully process the explosion of pleasure that followed each stroke. Bonnie landed number three. My pussy contracted with a force that surprised me. The pain was turning me on. There was no doubt.
“Four.” I thought that I might actually come with no other stimulation. Bonnie w
as an expert. She lined the blows up neatly next to each other. She took a breath after five, and I felt her hands on my ass, stroking the places that hurt the most. I wanted her to…
Oh, she was. Kissing me. Kissing the welts. Touching my pussy as she licked the stripes of fire on my skin. “You’re doing so well,” she said softly, “better than I would have expected. And see how wet your slit is?” She dipped her fingers inside of me, brought the gloss she gathered up to my lips. She spread my own juices on my lips and then kissed them clean. “Like honey,” she said.
I groaned. I was lost. She was hurting me, helping me, touching me so fucking sweetly that I didn’t know which way was up.
“When I reach ten,” she said, “I am going to lick your pussy until you come.” She stood and struck the sixth blow. “And then,” she continued, “I’m going to put on a strap-on, and fuck you until you come again.” Oh, god, I wanted that. I wanted to feel her pound into me. She landed seven and eight quickly, and I bucked and writhed on the bed. She took the handle of the crop then, and she slowly, gently, slid the molded tip inside of me. I almost started to cry. I wanted to be fucked. It had been months since my last hook-up. I’d almost managed to forget how important sex could be.
She let me bask in the sensation of having that handle up inside me, and then she pulled it out and landed the ninth blow. I shuddered all over. I hadn’t started crying. Bonnie seemed impressed. “You know the tenth is going to be the worst,” she said, “it has to be. But in a way, that’s the best, isn’t it? You need this.”
I did. Why? I don’t know. But she spoke the truth. I wanted everything she was doing to me. I shut my eyes as she raised her arm up. I held myself entirely still. She slammed into me and said, “Ten,” and then I heard the clatter as she dropped the crop, felt the bed shift as she moved me, flipping me onto my back, handcuff chain rattling, getting in between my legs and starting to suck my clit.
Yes, I’ve had lovers go down on me before. I haven’t been with men so uptight they couldn’t tongue a girl’s snatch. But nobody had ever made me feel the way Bonnie did. She used her fingers to spread open my nether lips. She pinched my clit between her thumb and finger and I began to moan and beg. “Let me come. Please…” The way she touched me was taunting and rough, and then right when I could take no more, she changed to gentle and soft, so that I missed the way she’d manhandled me only seconds before.
