by Alice Raine
‘Christ, Stella, you have a fabulous body,’ I murmured huskily, I always made a point of complimenting my submissives, I’d found over the years that they tended to be more pliant if they felt good about themselves, but tonight with Stella my words were nothing but the truth. Her body was curvy but firm, with those long legs that would be perfect for wrapping around my waist in the throes of passion and a tempting chest that I could no longer resist.
‘Thank you, Sir,’ she murmured softly, the velvet of her tone spurring me on.
Swiftly removing my boxer shorts, I closed the gap between us and took Stella completely by surprise by scooping her into my arms and depositing her roughly back on the sofa behind us. Catching both of her wrists in one of my hands was easy, they were so tiny compared to my palms, and I wasted no time pinning them above her head and lowering my mouth to her left breast that had been tempting me for so long.
Twirling my tongue around the rosy nipple, I felt it harden instantly and Stella let out a soft mewling sound as her back arched off the sofa up towards me. What a pleasing response, I thought with a smirk, so I rewarded her keenness with a hard suckle that made her squirm below me before I changed my attentions to Stella’s other full breast, using my teeth to roughly tug the nipple to its full length.
While my mouth was busy with her delightful breasts my free hand explored the softness of her stomach and thighs before slipping lower to run along the line of hair leading to her pussy. By this point, Stella was writhing below me making frustrated sounds of desperation and so I raised my head, keeping my gaze on her beautiful full lips as I spoke. ‘Would you like me to take you straight away, Stella, or shall I play for longer?’
‘Now, Sir,’ she breathed heavily, her body still squirming below me. ‘Please.’ Apparently, the little strip tease had also got Stella just as worked up as I felt.
‘I rather like the sound of you begging me, Stella,’ I murmured, lowering my lips to hers as my free hand moved lower to tease the already soaked folds between her legs, Christ, she was so wet for me. ‘Say it again, tell me what you want,’ I encouraged her gruffly, finally releasing her hands so they could roam across my back.
‘You. Please, I want you, Sir.’
‘Good. We’ll stick to missionary for tonight; I want you to climax too.’ Tackling the issue of her inability to climax in other positions would have to wait for another evening because even if I had wanted to draw out the process longer, I couldn’t have done it for the world. My self-control was already at breaking point so as Stella pleaded with me again to take her, I did, moving myself above her and sliding into her wet darkness in one smooth stroke. I paused briefly to savour the sensation of her warm tightness before starting up a fierce rhythm that had Stella digging her nails into my back and spurring me on with her soft moans as our hips clashed together furiously.
Wanting to lose myself in the sensation and thrust with abandon I only just managed to hold myself back. I could be a fierce lover at times, aggressive and powerful, but even in my lust-fuelled state I was vaguely aware that I didn’t want to hurt Stella and scare her off.
Perhaps she read my mind, or maybe Stella and I were just more perfectly suited than I could ever have dared hope, because the next words out of her mouth were just astounding. ‘Harder, Sir … Please … harder …’
I was already thrusting into her almost savagely, but apparently my new little sub wanted more, just like I did. Well hell, I thought, bring it on. Dropping my left leg onto the floor I planted my foot firmly and using the new leverage practically pile drove myself into her, pistoning my hips like a madman with such force that it shunted Stella up the sofa with each thrust.
With this new deeper position, it wasn’t long until I felt Stella tightening below me. ‘Wait … don’t climax until I say …’ I panted harshly, knowing I was close and wanting our first time to be as explosive as possible. Three more deep thrusts were all it took. ‘Now!’ I demanded, and as my hot climax began to spurt into her unbelievably receptive body, I felt Stella’s inner muscles clenching around my shaft so fucking hard I thought I might burst as she too found her release, gasping and moaning feverishly below me.
Hell, if the explosiveness of this first time was anything to go by this woman was going to be the death of me.
Chapter Seven – Stella
The morning, after my escapade with Nathan – or should that be sex-capade? – I woke up later than usual, something I fully blamed on Nathan and the exhausting workout he had given me on the sofa. Luckily, I managed to escape to work without seeing Kenny, the king of gossip, who I knew would have tried to grill me for details and make me even later than I already was. Once at work I ensconced myself in my office and found that the morning flew by, mostly because I did no work whatsoever and instead focused on replaying every minute of my naughty night with Nathan.
My desk phone rang just after half past eleven, interrupting me from replaying my delicious orgasm for the hundredth time, and I picked it up with a frown muttering my usual greeting feeling rather annoyed at the interruption.
‘Stella, there’s a guy here in reception demanding to see you.’ I recognised the voice as Zara, a new employee on reception that I was starting to get friendly with. Briefly my brain leapt to the farfetched conclusion that it might be Nathan coming to see me, desperate for a replay of last night and unable to wait until Friday, but then Zara continued with a giggled whisper. ‘I’ve never seen dress sense quite like this … he’s wearing pink trousers, a red shirt, and a blue tie … it kind of suits him though …’ she pondered, her voice dropping off. I rolled my eyes, it wasn’t Nathan then, he wouldn’t be seen dead in that get up, no, the only person I knew who dressed that appallingly and managed to carry it off with style was Kenny.
As soon as the lift doors opened, I saw Kenny leaning against the reception counter doing his best impression of flirting with Zara. For an out and out gay guy he certainly knew how to charm the ladies. Although with striking good looks like his I suspected it was never too difficult for him with either sex, because Kenny was lucky enough to have a Johnny Depp look about him; angular features, vivid green eyes, a neatly trimmed goatee, and chin-length shiny black hair, all in all the perfect package … except for his preference for men, of course, which was a bit of an obstacle if you were a hot-blooded female hoping to strike it lucky with him. Sure enough as I got closer I could see Zara blushing and giggling with him as they spoke and I shook my head, he was such a tease.
‘Ah, here she is!’ Kenny turned back to Zara and leant towards her conspiratorially as if they were best buddies. ‘Can you believe Stella went on a hot date last night and didn’t tell me the details before she left for work this morning?’ he confided with mock disapproval in his tone. ‘So I’ve come to take you for lunch,’ he announced, turning to me and holding out an arm. He would probably make a scene if I declined, so I rolled my eyes and took his arm, but not before noting the look of interest that Zara was giving me. Marvellous, she’d probably ask me about my ‘date’ later and I’d have to lie to her. What a great way to start a friendship.
As soon as we were through the revolving doors and out onto the busy street I turned to him and lightly smacked him on the arm. ‘Kenny! I don’t want the people I work with to know I’m dating anyone.’ Not that it was exactly dating. I grimaced as I considered exactly what it was I had started with Nathan … Sex, I suppose, just with a written contract and a few rules thrown in the mix.
Kenny was the only person I had told about my arrangement with Nathan, I’d explained the bizarre link between Nathan’s company and where I worked to Kenny and had planned on keeping the whole thing on the down low, but that might be a bit trickier now thanks to Kenny’s big mouth.
‘Whatever,’ he scoffed with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘If you’re that bothered just tell anyone who asks that you went out on a date with a guy but have decided not to see him again.’ He led me across the road towards the park. ‘I thought we’d go t
o that new deli on George Street,’ he added. ‘Nina’s, is it?’ He named a café that was just round the corner from my work and famed for its amazing sandwiches and salads.
Once we were seated and had ordered; tomato and mozzarella salad for me, a spinach and aubergine smoothie for Kenny – ugh – he leant forward with a familiar twinkle in his eye. ‘Come on then, my girl, spill the beans, you dashed out of the house awfully quick this morning which I took to mean “I got laid last night when I promised I wouldn’t”.’ He smirked at me knowingly and my traitorous cheeks immediately flushed bright red.
‘Ah-ha! I knew it, you little tartlet,’ he joked playfully as he flicked his napkin onto his lap. ‘Come on then, let’s have the juicy gossip!’ Just because Kenny was always happy to share the details of his conquests with me – sometimes with way too many details – didn’t mean I wanted to do the same, especially not while sat in a packed café, but as he flashed me his puppy dog eyes I sighed and eventually gave in. It would be nice to have a guy’s perspective on things, besides, I could talk freely with Kenny seeing as he was the one to persuade me into all this craziness in the first place.
‘Well … we started off discussing the terms of our agreement, limits, expectations, that sort of thing,’ I said, pausing as the waitress delivered our food, my salad and Kenny’s slop, my lip curled. God that smoothie looked positively gag-worthy. I truly would never understand these fad diets he went on.
‘I was so nervous that at first I kept nearly giggling at how business-like he was being,’ I told Kenny in a whisper. ‘Like I was a deal he was trying to broker, except instead of buildings or bonds, I was the object being acquired.’
‘I suppose, given who you’re dealing with, that’s kind of the case,’ Kenny said, taking a sip of his hideous-looking drink and attempting to hide his disgusted face. I on the other hand couldn’t hide my smirk.
‘So was he just as gorgeous as you remembered?’ Kenny asked, pushing aside his drink and leaning over to pinch a piece of my mozzarella. Cheeky bugger, he always did this when he was dieting, I really didn’t know why he bothered with the pretence.
‘Yep. More so,’ I murmured, probably slightly dreamily, but then I felt myself getting irritable as Kenny got his mobile out and started fiddling with it. Must be a text message. Charming, he’d dragged me out here supposedly keen to hear my gossip but now his frigging phone was more important.
‘Oh. My. God.’ Kenny separated each word with a significant pause and his awed tone made me look up from my salad. His eyes flicked to mine and narrowed. ‘Is this him? Because if it is I’m going to be severely pissed off with you.’
I was totally confused now, what the hell was Kenny on about? Snatching his phone I looked at the picture on the screen and drew in a quick breath before my cheeks flushed with pleasure.
The screen to Kenny’s phone was filled with an image of Nathan in all his glory. Using my finger to scroll around the page I realised that when Kenny had been fiddling with his phone he’d actually been doing a quick Google search for Nathan. The page displayed was the corporate staff listing for Nathaniel Jackson Architecture, featuring every member of staff, reviewing their qualifications and providing one photograph. Nathan’s was simply glorious. Dressed in a grey three-piece suit with a white shirt and black tie, Nathan was staring intently at the camera with a slight frown on his face and looked every bit the corporate executive, and every bit the dominant lover I’d experienced last night. A shiver of pleasure ran through me as I gripped Kenny’s phone tighter in my suddenly clammy hand.
‘That’s him,’ I murmured, trying not to dribble on the phone as I placed two fingers on the screen and opened them up to zoom in on Nathan’s breathtaking features. Suddenly Kenny’s earlier comment came back to me and I frowned. ‘Hang on, why are you going to be pissed off with me?’ Not that I really believed he’d be pissed off with me – Kenny’s approach to life was so laid back he was pretty much horizontal, and as such rarely held grudges or moods for long.
‘Because I’ve never bedded a man that god-like. It’s not fair,’ Kenny grumbled on a pout before snatching his phone back and examining the picture of Nathan again. In the blink of an eye, Kenny’s strop was gone as his eyes lit up as he looked to me expectantly. ‘Please tell me that he was just as god-like in bed?’
‘He was,’ I confirmed a touch smugly with a nod. ‘Exceedingly god-like in the sex department.’ Then, on a giggle, I remembered back to last night and decided to tease Kenny with one more morsel before I had to get back to work. ‘Except we didn’t actually make it as far as the bed, but I can definitely confirm that as far as rampant sofa shags go he’s the best I’ve ever had.’ What was it about Kenny that brought out my inner slut! ‘Thanks for lunch, Ken, but I gotta get back, see you tonight,’ I mumbled as I popped my last bit of mozzarella into my mouth and left Kenny with his jaw hanging open in shock, his barely touched smoothie in his hand.
Chapter Eight – Nathan
All through primary and secondary school, I was bullied and taunted because of my introverted ways and avoidance of eye contact. When my brother Nicholas was old enough to join me at school, he had fared no better. In fact, the teasing had got so bad that it wasn’t often that I even bothered to interact with other pupils. Judgemental tossers, the lot of them.
By the time I had reached college at the age of 17, I still had no real friends and had never even dared look at a girl. From listening in to the conversations in the lunch hall, I knew some of the guys in my class had girlfriends who they kissed and touched, but I had found it impossible to imagine how such a relationship could develop between two people. My role models were my parents and although they did sometimes kiss each other or hold hands, I also knew that my father’s beatings extended beyond myself and my brother to my mother too. Was that how it was supposed to be between a man and woman?
Completely coincidentally, this question was inadvertently answered for me later the very next month on a drizzly Sunday. Sunday nights were ‘early to bed nights’ in the Jackson household, with both me and Nicholas in our rooms by 9 p.m. As well as being early to bed night, Sunday was special to myself and Nicholas because it was also the only night in the week when we wouldn’t receive a beating; in fact our father wouldn’t come to our rooms at all. I had thought this might be because it was God’s day, but whatever the reason I was always thankful for the extra smiles I got from my little brother on a Sunday.
Knowing I shouldn’t have had an extra glass of lemonade with dinner, I sat on the edge of my bed and wondered if I could hold my pee until the morning. It had only just gone half past nine, my mother had bid me goodnight half an hour ago, but I knew if my father caught me out of bed so soon after curfew that I would be in for a punishment regardless of what day of the week it was.
Squirming on my bed for another few seconds, I decided that at age 17 wetting my bed really wasn’t an option, so I abruptly stood up and crept to the door. Opening it as quietly as I could I thanked God that the temperamentally squeaky handle had miraculously remained silent tonight as I pulled it open.
Tiptoeing along the corridor, I paused when I heard pained gasps whisper in the air. Spinning towards Nicholas’ bedroom, I hurried to check that my father wasn’t breaking his Sunday rule, but as I peeked in the darkened room all I could hear was Nicholas snoring lightly.
Frowning, I crept back towards my parents’ bedroom. The door was ajar but it was forbidden for me to enter so I went to make my way past to get to the toilet when another more fevered moan of pain reached my ears. After hesitating for just a second or so on the threshold I peered in the crack of the door.
My eyes widened at the sight before me. My mother was completely naked on the bed facing away from me crouched on her hands and knees. Her thighs, buttocks, and the majority of her back were glowing an angry red colour, marked with a criss-cross of feint welt like marks.
Marks like mine.
For a second or two I was unable to comprehend what
I was seeing, I was torn between the perversity of looking at my mother naked and the overwhelming desire to assess the criss-cross of marks on her skin that were so similar to the ones that often coloured my own body after my father’s beatings. Just then, my father stepped into view, fully dressed and holding something in his hand that seemed to have 10 or 12 thin leather straps attached to it. I had no idea what it was, but it certainly wasn’t the belt that he used on my brother and I. He raised his hand, and I knew he was about to bring the implement down on my mother’s buttocks.
I was considering going in to help my mother, but I was too afraid of what the consequences might be if I intervened. Would he turn that awful whip thing on me too?
Not wanting to witness the unsavoury sight of my parents together, I had stumbled on to the bathroom in shock. As I staggered away, I was surprised to hear my mother moan again, but even to my sexually inexperienced ears it was quite obviously a moan of pleasure. Was that normal? Usual behaviour between a husband and wife? Perhaps it was. After all, my father always told me that the beatings I received were no different to the ones my friends would be getting at home too. Not that, as ‘Freakoid Jackson’, I had any friends to ask of course.
After so long of being controlled by my father I was becoming keen on the idea of breaking free and extending my own control somehow. Perhaps it was teenage hormones kicking in, but lately I had been thinking about getting a girlfriend of my own.
