‘I’m off now, have a good weekend, Sam.’
‘Thanks, I’ll try.’ He tried to joke.
‘I’ve left all the post in your tray. A courier came.’ She gestured towards the wire in-tray precariously balanced on the edge of Sam’s paper-strewn desk.
Sam flicked through it quickly, hesitating at the couriered package - it was in a white jiffy bag headed up ‘private and confidential’.
‘Thanks Sheila, see you on Monday.’ He dismissed her.
Using the silver letter opener he sliced the top off the envelope and reached inside. One DVD disk; unlabelled with no letter accompanying it. Sam reached across and placed it into his computer drive. With a few clicks of the mouse his screen came to life. A bedroom - well lit with a large iron bed and his wife tethered to it. Sam breathed deeply. A small noise outside his office door made him jump, the cleaners were starting their rounds. Sam ejected the DVD, rose from his chair unsteadily and went to the filing cabinet in the corner. Selecting a key, he unlocked it and withdrew a mobile phone. Accessing the address book he selected a number and pressed ‘dial’. It rang twice before it was answered.
‘Did you get it?’
‘Yes, I’ve just checked the quality.’
‘Good. Is the cheque in the post?’ Ritchie all but laughed.
‘As always.’ Sam confirmed seriously.
‘Fine then, we’ve made arrangements for next Wednesday.’
‘Good, adjust the lighting maybe. I have a beautiful wife; she’s not to be kept in the shadows.’ Sam requested before he ended the call.
He was happy. Tonight they would make love and tomorrow, as he carried out all his husbandly chores, he would cheerfully wave to her as she stands at the kitchen window. She will wave back to him and smile because she doesn’t know, after three years, she still doesn’t know.
Another Round by Gwen Masters
‘What do you remember?’
She shook underneath me, looking up with those crystal eyes. The uncertainty in them warred with sheer whorish need. My hand shot forward, startled her, yanked her hair with one deft jerk. Her mouth fell open. She panted. She always panted when I did that.
‘I asked you a question.’
She took a breath. Swallowed. Tried to rein it in. My cock jumped in my pants when she licked her lips. I could read her mind, but I wanted her to tell me.
I shook her by the hair, threw her like a rag doll. She yelped. Her nails dug into my thighs until I slapped her hands away. She glared at me.
‘Bastard,’ she spat out, coiled like a snake under my hand.
It was always like this with her, always the defiance, even while she conveniently forgot that she was paying me good money to make her feel like an utter whore. She pretended to be livid with the injustice. She pretended to hate me. She pretended that she was above me, so high on a pedestal that even if she spat in my direction, the wind would carry it too far to hit me. Pretending like that was fine, if that was what she needed, but I wouldn’t put up with it much longer, and she knew it. She could push, but I could push harder.
I yanked her hair again. She gritted her teeth and her eyes sparkled. She was on the verge of playing Little Miss Wounded. Her games were becoming old hat to me by now. I was getting tired of them, but I wasn’t tired of the money. More than that, I was getting interested in a very non-sexual sort of way. I knew I could break her. She wanted me to break her.
She fucking loved it.
‘Tell me what you remember.’
She purred when I pulled her head back all the way. Her throat was long and pale, sweetly tempting. Which side did I leave marks on last time? I didn’t remember. I would make sure to leave marks on both sides this time, just to make sure I covered all the bases. I wanted to give her something she had to hide, something she had to explain. Wearing a turtleneck in the dead of summer in Miami? Wonderful.
‘I remember when you told me to fuck you up the ass with my finger,’ she said. I almost smiled. She scored a point, turning the tables like that, but I would never let her see it.
‘Good try,’ I said calmly. ‘I prefer to recall you whimpering that you belonged to me while I was reaming out your ass. You came when I did that. Remember?’
She was trembling again, kneeling on the bed. She looked up at me but would not look at my eyes.
‘You wanted to suck it when I was done. Didn’t you? If that ain’t a dirty whore, I don’t know what is.’
The blush on her face was very becoming. It spread down her chest, hardened her nipples at the same time it ignited her ears. Her hand slowly closed and opened on the blanket, kneading it like a cat while she stared straight ahead. Tears filled her eyes.
‘You would do anything.’
I unzipped my jeans. My cock sprang out. Her mouth fell open.
‘Anything.’
I slapped her face with my dick. She whimpered. She hunkered down, ass up, knees spread, legs trembling, hands on the blanket, twisting.
‘Tell me.’
She hesitated. She hadn’t yet learned the ropes of what we were doing here. Sometimes I thought she was too strong-willed. She was the kind a man like me will dream about, the kind that has such a deep breaking point that finding it becomes a personal challenge, a matter of pride. Even when she was doing everything she was told, she still had that pride that would not allow her to be humiliated.
Not yet, anyway.
I yanked her hair harder, pulled her up to her knees with it, and this time the tears in her eyes weren’t from desire. That was good. That was fine. Right now I might have been turned on, but I didn’t like her much at all. It was the usual combination she evoked in me. The venom in my voice wasn’t manufactured.
‘Am I going to have to tell you again? I will be more than happy to. I would love to use that new cat-o’-ninetails to punctuate every fucking syllable.’
‘I will do anything,’ she said immediately. There was that edge of defiance again. I let go of her hair so quickly she almost fell off the end of the bed. She scrambled to keep her balance, and I was pleased at the sudden lack of dignity.
I reached for the cat-o’-nine-tails. She opened her mouth to speak, then looked up at me and shut her lips. Her eyes spoke the volumes that she refused to voice.
I stood in front of her. ‘Suck,’ I demanded, and there it was again, that hesitation. Right before she could touch my cock, I pushed her away. She moaned. I cracked the whip over her buttocks, and she flinched hard, even though I hadn’t actually touched her skin. She really was afraid of that thing. I liked to watch the flicker in her eyes whenever I snapped it around her.
‘Wondering what you’re doing wrong?’ I asked her.
She nodded.
‘I’ll tell you what you’re doing wrong. You’re a slut. You’re a whore. You’re a goddamn bitch good for nothing but sucking my cock. Out there with your husband and your job and your nice little place in society you’re hot shit, but in here you’re good for nothing but being a hole I like to fuck. So you don’t get to think about things for a while. You don’t get to decide what you might like to do, little miss high-society bitch. You do as I say, when I say it, and you fucking thank me for it. Is that understood?’
She nodded without an instant of hesitation. Good.
‘So you’re going to suck my dick. You’re going to suck like a vacuum powered by the goddamn energizer bunny. Aren’t you?’
She nodded again. I brought down the cat-o-nine tails. She yelped in surprise as the leather bit into the pristine cheeks of her round ass.
‘Then what the fuck are you waiting for?’ I yelled.
She opened her mouth and sucked me in. I grabbed her hair and rammed her. She gagged on my cock. She wanted to pull away, I knew she did, but she was more afraid of that cat-o’-nine-tails than she was of a little deep-throating. She went at me with an earnest need to please then, and I watched for a while as she bobbed up and down. Her tongue was just as busy as her lips were. She had no idea of the kind o
f skills she possessed. That woman could suck me dry in a matter of minutes if I let her.
I closed my eyes and got into it for a little while: just enjoyed the feeling. When I started to feel that familiar tingle in my balls, I pulled her off me and stepped away.
She stayed right where she was, looking up at me with those bright eyes. The defiance was softer, but it was still there.
‘Touch yourself,’ I ordered.
She reached down between her legs. Her eyes drifted closed. She rocked on her hand. I got behind her and watched what she was doing. Two slim fingers were sliding in and out. She was sometimes touching her clit, but it was mostly all centered inside, on that spot that seemed to make her shudder every time she touched it just right.
One of her ass cheeks had little red marks on it. I touched them lightly and she jerked. She stopped moving. I waited for a moment, then slapped her ass.
‘Did I tell you to stop?’
She started playing with herself again, this time with an edge of urgency. I slapped her ass again and watched the red mark form. I slapped it again, laying my hand in the exact same spot. I watched the redness grow even redder. Then I did it again, and again, making a game out of it, trying to hit the same spot every time.
There were moans now, the ones that came from deep down in her throat, a sexy mating call.
I moved to the other cheek. The bitch had a nice ass, wide and rounded. It jiggled just a little with every spank. I varied the slaps on the other cheek, layering them, watching her whole buttock turn a pretty shade of red. Then I picked up the cat-o’-nine-tails and trailed it down her spine.
She arched away from me, then changed her mind and arched up toward me. I brought the whip down lightly on her cheeks, and she jerked as if she had been shot. My spanks had made her skin sensitive. The second crack of the whip across her skin brought a wild cry of surprise from her.
‘Don’t stop touching yourself,’ I ordered, and she increased her pace to near-frantic. She was hot and wet and going beyond protest. Her moans were almost desperate. I watched her for a while, stroking my cock in time with her thrusts.
Her legs tensed. Her neck arched. Her moans turned to cries. She trembled. Right before she could come, I yanked her hand away from her clit.
‘No,’ she wailed, hardly able to breathe.
‘Fuck me,’ I said.
She hesitated, unsure of what to do. I knew her well enough to know the anger was welling up, and if I were looking at her face, I would see something close to pure hatred in her eyes. But I would see passion too, and a glimpse of the woman underneath, the one who was close to begging.
I grabbed her hips and pulled her back on me. Her pussy was shockingly wet. I sat back on the bed and let her ride. Her tits sometimes brushed my legs as she bounced on my cock. I ran my fingertips down her spine and watched the fine sheen of sweat break out over her goosebumps. I thought about everything else - baseball, the old standby. The bills I had to pay that month. Her husband and whether he noticed any differences in her.
I waited until she was on the verge of exhaustion, her thighs and her arms trembling, sweat running down her body. I liked watching her try to hold herself up. I knew she would be sore in the morning. Every muscle would protest when she got out of bed. Then she would remember why, and she would feel defiance and a bit of confusion, the kind of thoughts that would lurk in the back of her mind and make her wonder how much longer she could hold on to that insufferable pride. She would hate me a little bit, and that thought made me very happy.
‘I don’t want you to fuck me like this,’ I announced.
She paused immediately.
‘Fuck me with your ass.’
She didn’t move for a long moment. I knew she had never had anal sex until me, and having it in this position was something she probably needed time to wrap her mind around. I allowed it, moving my hips slowly, gliding my cock in and out of her pussy.
‘I don’t know how,’ she said.
‘Yes, you do.’
She thought about it, then took a deep breath and moved forward. My cock was standing at attention. She slowly moved back until my dick was pressed right between those round, red cheeks. I held them and spread them with my hands, opening her up for what I wanted her to do. She was trembling but she wasn’t truly hesitating. She was just being careful.
I watched as her little brown rosebud winked at me. I could have taken the time to get her ready like I had the last time, but I wanted her to take me like this. I wanted her to impale herself without any preparation whatsoever. Call it a measuring of trust.
‘Fuck me,’ I murmured. ‘Now.’
She pushed against my dick. I wasn’t surprised to feel the resistance. She worked herself over me slowly, until half of my head slid inside. I wasn’t a monster but I wasn’t small, either. I knew she was uncomfortable. She paused and whimpered. I wanted to grab her hips and force her down, but she had to do this for herself.
‘Now,’ I barked. The harsh command was like electricity. She jerked and then she pushed down hard. I hadn’t really expected her to do it, but she did - just impaled herself on my cock. She swallowed me all the way in. Watching it, and hearing her cry out at the same time, turned my dials all the way from hot to redline.
‘Fuck,’ I groaned.
She slid up and then right back down. All the way. All the fucking way.
I didn’t want to come, but I might not have much of a choice. She was grinding hard and bouncing when she wasn’t grinding, and my dick was appreciative. I struggled to remember who was fucking whom.
She fucked me hard. She fucked me with the kind of controlled abandon that said she knew exactly what she was doing. That pissed me off enough that I wanted to hurt her, so I didn’t make it easy. I rammed her from below, and she squealed. She grabbed my legs and held on, her nails digging in. I thrust harder and harder until she changed her tactic and removed those claws from my calves. Fucking bitch - even now, even with my dick up her ass, she was determined to have things her way.
I started to spank her again. She gasped out loud and tried to move forward, but I held her hips hard with one hand and spanked her with the other. She wiggled. She was either trying to get away or trying to make me come faster, which she thought might be just as good.
I was surprised when she hissed out ‘harder’.
Harder? I was spanking her as hard as I could. My hand was burning. My arm was starting to hurt. Her ass cheeks were red as fire, and she was whimpering with every blow, but she still wanted more?
If this was a battle of wills, I was determined to win.
I started alternating hands: alternating sides. I spanked her until my arm burned, until my hand went past the point of being hot and hurting and into the realm of numb from the inside out. She wasn’t the only one who was going to be sore in the morning, and the thought of that made me spank her harder. Just who did she think she was?
She finally put her head down on the cover and cried out, a long and loud wail that sounded like nothing I had ever heard from her before.
She came. Getting the spanking of her life, with my dick buried in her ass, she came harder than I had ever felt her come before. Her whole body tensed, then went limp with the pleasure of it. I could almost see the blood humming through her. Her whole body flushed red, as though heat had been poured over her from the shoulders down. It was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.
I gave it up. Thrust up into her once and came. I roared with the power of it, and held her down on me while I was doing it, until there wasn’t another drop left in me. She wiggled a bit but I held her steady until my breathing calmed, until I could think coherently again.
‘Are you alright?’ I asked her. There was a very long silence and lots of deep breaths, as though she was thinking about how to answer.
‘You didn’t spank me hard enough,’ she finally said.
I was stunned. Anger flashed through me. Then it was replaced with the thrill of the challenge. She w
as definitely a spitfire. How refreshing!
‘You little bitch,’ I growled. I picked up the cat-o’-nine-tails.
She turned around and looked at me. Her face was flushed. Her hair was tangled and wet with sweat. Her eyes were glassy with exhaustion. Her lips held the slightest smile, the kind of smile that said she loved this game just as much as I did.
Then it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by that look of defiance, that set of her jaw, that challenge from her very core: Go ahead and try to break me, you fucker.
‘Bring it on,’ she said.
I definitely had my work cut out for me.
Fighting Irish by A. Zimmerman
I was in a foul mood.
I wasn’t dressed for running errands. In my opinion you don’t run errands in black nylons, a long, black, stretchy skirt and an oversized white tunic shirt knotted at hip level. It helped that I wore white tennis shoes, but I still felt overdressed. I also hate skirts, not to mention nylons.
This pair’s suspender-style; technically, crotchless. And they’re about a size too small. I’m full figured so this causes my legs to bulge over the top edge slightly. It was a detail that didn’t matter when we were home or when I wore pants. It became critical walking around in a skirt. Basically my thighs were chafing.
Pearce had selected my wardrobe for the day so most of my mood was directed towards him, which he had noticed. As we stood in the checkout line at the market he crowded me, his torso pressing against my back. He slipped his arms under mine to catch the handle of the cart, pulling it tight against my stomach as he dropped his voice to an intimate level, his Irish brogue putting a dangerous accent on the pronoun.
‘I’m knackered, girl, and I’m warning ye - adjust the eejit attitude or I will.’
Leaning back against him to intentionally imply compliance, I lay my head against the crook of his neck. Pearce shifted his stance to support my change in position as I spoke softly.
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