by Lee Savino
“There,” he breathes. “Just like that. Don’t move.”
“Or else?”
“I’ll tie you up.” I wait for him to grin, but he’s perfectly serious. He backs away and starts setting up equipment. I bite my lip and look out at the ocean.
“That’s it, Evie. Just relax.”
I flinch at the sound of the shutter.
“Wait.” He strides forward, catches my chin and kisses the hell out of me. His lips leave mine for a moment; I make a sound like “nuuuh.”
“Much better,” he says. I barely note when he backs away and starts taking pictures.
The sun beats down, bathing our fearless heroine in radiant light. Her red hair shimmers. She moves, and it spills across her glorious chest. Click goes the camera shutter.
I am a model. I am an object of beauty with creamy skin and auburn locks, wearing nothing but a translucent robe and a few pieces of fat string. I am ephemeral.
Slowly, I strip off my coverall. I’m the star in my own movie, crossing the beach, staring at the horizon. Click goes the camera shutter. I shield my eyes a moment. Click, click, click. Then I head towards the surf, a sea goddess, a mermaid returning home.
The ocean surges to greet me, covering my feet with green froth and pieces of seaweed.
“Ygghah!!” I gasp, staggering back. The water is absolutely freezing.
“Yeah, it’s cold.” Sawyer laughs like a crazy man.
“How do you surf in this?”
He shrugs. “Wetsuits. Keep going. What were you going to do?”
“I was going to get in the water, but it’s too cold.” My mermaid dreams are dashed.
“Sometimes you gotta suffer for art.”
“Is that what this is? Art?” I mutter, but I do my best. I dance in the surf until my toes are numb. I retreat to dry land until the sun bakes me. My sunscreen is long gone. Sawyer moves around me, capturing moments with each decisive click. He’s in the zone, totally focused.
I decide to seduce him.
“Mmmm,” I murmur, sliding my hands down my lush body. My breasts really are a work of art. I could just tug this string and they’d be free…
I wait a moment for Sawyer to stop and ask what I’m doing. When he doesn’t, I continue. I’m topless, lounging in the surf. I roll in the sand. I tousle my hair and look over my shoulder, coy. I stretch like a cat in the sun.
“Yes,” Sawyer murmurs, hot and husky like I’m pleasuring him. “That’s it, baby. Keep going.”
I grow hot enough to return to the water. I lie half in, half out of the surf, letting the water rush over me. My nipples are hard enough to cut glass.
My cheeks are hot. I’ve gone pink like undercooked meat. Another hour and I’ll be a lobster. Not to mention the sand up in my crotch, turning my bikini bottoms into sandpaper. My hair’s stringing, I’m sweaty and... gah, how do bikini models do it?
“Uncomfortable?” Sawyer asks, and when I grumble yes, he nods to my bikini bottoms. “Take it off.”
“What?”
“Take them off.”
“But—”
“Do you trust me?”
I bite my lip and nod.
He crouches close, “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
I end up on my knees in the surf, waving the white cover up over my head like a flag. I surrender.
“That’s a wrap, baby.” Sawyer puts his camera away.
And then he meets me in the surf, grabbing my wet, sandy, sweaty body and hauling me against him. He’s rock-hard and ready. He got this hard just watching me…
I make a noise like “rauwrrr” and pounce. We’re rolling in the sand, attacking each other with our mouths. I slide against him, ignoring the sandpaper grit.
“Here,” he dips us in the ocean, ignoring my yelp. Once we’re clean of sand, he carries me up, shivering, to a rock spread with our towel. He sits, frees himself and drives up into me so hard I cry out.
“My beautiful girl,” he murmurs, holding my hips and surging. I rock on top of him.
“You gotta ask permission,” he reminds me, and my body clenches on him so hard he bucks.
“Fuck, Evie, come.”
I throw back my head and ride the waves of pleasure.
A seagull flies in lazy circles over us as Sawyer carries me to the car and sets me, wrapped in nothing but the towel, in the seat. My wet hair splays over the leather. I’m a mermaid come to land in the arms of her prince.
“That was great,” I murmur when Sawyer returns from putting up his equipment. His jaw jerks up in agreement. “I bet I’m not like most models you use.”
“No,” he agrees. “You’re not.”
Ouch. I blink at my window. It’s just a game. I can do this.
“It sure is fun waiting to see what you guys can come up with next. I’m looking forward to the next round with you.”
“Right.”
His clipped tone makes me tense. I spend the next few minutes trying out a few questions and responses in my head. Finally, I settle on, “Are you and Bear... okay with all this?”
“Sure.” He shrugs and gives me a Hollywood smile. He doesn’t meet my eyes. “It’s just a game, Evie. You have nothing to lose.”
He’s wrong. I do have something to lose. My heart.
“Hey, bitch. How’s the meat sandwich?”
“Mina…”
“Oh, that’s right,” she laughs, “You’re the meat in the middle of the sandwich. Lucky bitch.”
“Stop.”
“Am I making you blush? Take a picture and send it to me. Your blushes are epic.”
“Gee, thanks. No, I will not send a picture.” This reminds me too much of Bear’s panty rule. I cover a cheek with my palm, and yes, my skin is hot to the touch.
“Well? The dates?” she prompts when I don’t answer.
“They’re not dates.”
“The fuck buddy stuff, then.”
Fuck buddy. That’s exactly the word for me. “Carp,” I mutter.
“Carp?” Mina asks.
“I’m trying to swear less.”
“Fuck that!”
“Mina… I have a question.” As soon as I say it, I regret it, but Mina will never let up until I ask. “Do these guys date? Long relationships?”
“No, not really. I asked my brothers and they don’t know of any girl that’s lasted more than a few months. But that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t change their mind. You know, for you.”
“Yeah, right.”
“What are you doing with them?”
“Nothing. Just a stupid bet.” I’m nothing to them. I mean, they’re both bedding me. What guy is okay with that? They probably think I’m a slut. An easy lay. Even if I did want to date one of them, at this point I’d be sloppy seconds. “They’re just foolin’ around. It means nothing.” Except for Bear’s little project to rehabilitate my self-esteem. Maybe he thinks he’s doing me a favor, fixing me to go on after the competition is over. Sawyer and him competing to spoil me, make me feel special.
When I think about it all ending, I don’t feel special. I feel like a used soccer ball.
I realize Mina is talking.
“Why do you do this to yourself? Don’t you think they’d be interested in you?”
“Look at me. Look at the girls they’re usually with.”
“Fuck that. You. Are. Gorgeous. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you. You’re like a short Christina Hendricks. Total bombshell.”
I say nothing and she mutters, “Your fucking aunt…”
“Hey, remember my cousin Genevieve?” I change the subject. “She’s getting married.”
“Awesome. Which guy are you taking to the wedding?”
I sigh. “Neither.”
“You should make them arm wrestle for the privilege. My money’s on Bear, although Sawyer has a good shot. He’s not as big, but he’s sneaky. Has he tried coming in your backdoor?”
“Goodbye, Mina.
”
I’m rushing around to get ready for work. I go to grab underwear out of my special “Bear-bought” lingerie drawer and come up with a big fat handful of nothing. Crap. All these orgasms and living my best sex life now, and I’ve completely forgotten the mundane details that used to swamp me.
I missed laundry day. Which means no underwear. I grimace at my phone. I have to tell Bear.
I procrastinate. By the time I get to my phone, his text is waiting. Baby, you forgetting something?
Eep! I’m all sweaty-palmed, not to mention bare-assed beneath my fitted skirt.
I dial Bear standing by the door. Maybe I can explain better over the phone. “The thing is,” I launch in as soon as he greets me. “I didn’t do laundry. So. Um. I’m out of underwear.”
Silence.
“That’s why I didn’t ask you. I was going to go… without.”
I fidget with my blouse, tucking it in and leaving it unbuttoned to reveal a silky cami underneath. With a tight black skirt and my hair up in a bun, I’ve made a decent attempt at ‘sexy librarian’.
“So, you’re goin’ to work... without underwear?”
“Yeah. But I look real cute!” I snap a picture and text it really quick. The phone angle gives a spectacular shot of my boobs and cocked hip. The cami shimmers. The stretchy skirt makes sweet love to my curvy butt.
More silence, but he’s breathing a teensy, tiny bit heavier. Finally, he says, “Consequences, baby.”
Shiver.
Consequences. I tap a pencil against my teeth. What does Bear mean? I have to admit I’m curious.
I never expected a game like this.
“Special delivery, Evie.” Ben marches into my cubicle. I whirl and give him a “your book is overdue” glare and he halts in the entrance.
“Thank you, Benjamin,” I murmur and spin back to my computer. “You may leave it on the counter.”
He obeys and lingers, probably hoping I’ll open it in front of him. Fat chance.
“Did you finish the report summary Mr. Lui’s wanted?” I toss Ben a curveball. See how he likes it.
“Uh—”
“Be a dear and forward it to me by three? Thank you so much.”
He retreats and I smile at my gift. Evie 1, Ben 0.
I make myself wait a full ten minutes before swiveling to study the lovely gift-wrapping. There’s a note on top: “Open in private.”
I hustle to the bathroom and rip open my gift, nearly flinging a sexy scrap of lace across the room. Fifteen panties folded into bright rows like candy.
My thighs clench and I fumble for my phone.
I text Bear. Daddy, will you pick which color?
Pink.
With shaking hands, I draw my new panties on and send him a picture.
Good girl.
I seriously consider rubbing one out in the bathroom. By the time I get home, I’m floating. Not even a phone call from my aunt, demanding I finalize the flower arrangements, can bring me down. I catch sight of myself in the mirror as I’m shimmying out of my work clothes, and can’t resist stroking myself over the silky lace, the color of new rosebuds. I’m so keyed up, and I’m already in trouble, so I might as well enjoy it.
My phone rings just as my finger slips off my clit, detonating the orgasm I’ve been dying for all day.
“Hello?” I answer, breathless.
“Evie,” Bear drawls my name. He knows.
“Sorry, daddy,” I come clean right away. “I, um, touched myself. I came.”
“Consequences, baby.” A smug smile lurks in his voice. I squirm, ready to come again.
“What are you going to do?”
“Teach my baby to obey."
When Bear opens the door to his place, my stomach flip-flops at the sight of him. Tonight wasn’t planned. I’m outside the boundaries of the game.
“I packed a bag.” I shrug said bag off my shoulder.
“Good baby.” He takes it and guides me straight into the bedroom. I stop in my tracks at the sight of the items he’s prepped and laid out on a towel at the end of the bed. Bear sets my bag down, takes a seat and crooks a finger at me.
“What, no foreplay?” I ask, my voice as light as I can make it even as I shiver in his arms. He pulls me between his legs, running his hands up and down my arms, squeezing reassuringly.
“This is punishment,” he says simply. I stare at the implements lined up on the towel: a crop, a cane, a hairbrush and small black bulb-shaped thing—a butt plug.
“Do I need, like, a safeword?”
“If you want. If you say ‘stop’, I’ll stop.” He angles his head. “Do you want to stop?”
Tempting, but no. I shake my head, which pleases him. He’s still massaging me, moving from my arms to my back and hips.
“I’m nervous,” I tell him.
“The only thing you need to do tonight is obey me. If it gets too much, tell me to stop.”
“Right.”
He turns me to lean against him, half sitting in his lap. His arms lock around me, his right hand sliding into my yoga pants and panties to delve into my soft, wet folds.
“Wet for me.”
Major understatement.
He strokes until my hips are writhing and clamps me tighter. “Be good, baby.”
“Daddy... please... I’m close.”
He pulls his fingers from my panties. I groan but suck his digits clean when he presents them to me, one by one.
He pulls off my top and pushes my bra down under my breasts to push them up. He spends some time teasing the sensitive mounds until I’m grinding in his lap, so keyed up I could orgasm from a few nipple tugs. Which is amazing, considering how hard it used to be for me to orgasm.
“Daddy—”
He stops and nuzzles my neck. “Obey. Do you want to please me?” He lifts the hair off my shoulder to collar me with kisses.
“Yes, yes, yes.” More than anything.
“Obey me.”
“It’s hard,” I whine, and grind down on his dick. Yep, super hard.
“You’re being so good.” Now his hand is back in my pants, cupping me like he owns me. Which he does.
“Yes, daddy. Please—”
He brings me right to the edge and stops, flipping me off his lap and onto the bed. He looms over me, gathering my wrists over my head. My heart leaps at the stern look in his eye.
“Whose pussy is this?” Rough fingers skewer me, twisting sharply. It’d hurt but I’m sopping wet.
“Yours.”
“And who do your orgasms belong to.” Another finger and I moan.
“You, daddy.”
“That’s right. Mine.” He pulls the fingers out and wipes them on my yoga pants. “Up,” he barks. “Over my lap. Take your punishment like a good girl, and I might let you come.”
I crawl over his broad lap. His thighs are rock hard, his profile solemn and unyielding above me. This disciplinarian Bear is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I love it so much.
“Start with a spanking. Then you get the brush. Finish you off with a taste of something stronger. Squirm too much, things will escalate. Understand?”
“Yes, daddy.”
It’s only a game. But it feels so real.
His big hand squeezes my bottom before the spanking commences. I let my head hang down. Draped over his lap, accepting each swat on my ass, my mind goes to a zen-like place. The sting, muffled by the spandex of my yoga pants, centers me.
Halfway through, he pulls down my pants. The first smack makes me jerk. No more Mr. Nice Palm. My bottom is already warm, though, so the new intensity plateaus.
My ass is hot before he stops.
“Good, baby. Now the brush.”
Fuck.
“What was that?”
Oops, I said it out loud. “Sorry, daddy.”
“You will be.”
The dark promise makes my pussy clench. The hard, wooden surface crashes onto my warm buttocks, lighting up my nerve endings and making me jerk.
I yelp, but Bear’s noticed my added wetness.
“You like this?” He stops and rubs my clit. I spasm for an entirely different reason.
“Oh my God.”
“You can call me ‘daddy.’”
I smile to myself, enjoying the attention to my naughty bits. He alternates rubbing with smacks. How am I not supposed to come from this?
“Four more with the brush.” He taps my left buttock before the wood slaps down. I whimper and wait. Right, left, right. And done. Now his fingers frig me harder.
“You gonna come?”
“Yes,” I wail, and he stops. My orgasm dissipates.
“Not yet,” he says, not unsympathetically. “You have a choice. One with the cane or three with the crop.”
“Then I can come?”
“Greedy baby. Yes. If you wear the buttplug, you can come.”
Unfffff. I squirm a little to hide my excitement.
“Need an answer, Evie.”
“Cane.” My voice is small. I hear it hurts like a mother.
“You sure?”
“Yes, daddy.” I’m curious about the crop too. Later, I’ll ask him for a taste.
“Cane it is.” But he takes his sweet time, stirring up my orgasm, pausing, letting it die. I’m all worked up and red-faced by the time he lays the hard, thin implement against my upper thighs. With a whoosh, it whips down.
Arghasdfasdf. The cane paints a line of fire across my legs. I’ll feel that tomorrow.
“Now the plug,” Bear says.
Oh, sweet Jesus in a hammock. I grit my teeth through the indignity of him lubing up my back hole.
“Gonna claim you here.”
I grunt.
Now, with the plug in my bottom and clit throbbing from the intermittent attention, I feel like a corked champagne bottle, shaken and about to explode.
Bear draws things out, too, rubbing up and down my legs and back, squeezing my poor ass cheeks and playing with the plug until I moan.
“Are you going to touch without permission?” His fingers sink into my sopping pussy. My climax builds, tightening my hips.
“No, daddy.”
“Are you going to ask me what to wear every morning?”
“Yes, daddy. Please—”
“Come—”
