Rich Promise

by Ashe Barker

  My thoughts drift to Freya as I head up the M6 toward Penrith. She’s still holed up on her own in Leeds, though I understand her horse is showing some improvement. I’ve been over to see her a couple of times. She’s desperate for Nick to contact her, but he remains aloof. I wonder if I should perhaps try to see him as well this weekend. Maybe I could talk to him—or Dan could.

  I dismiss that notion as quickly as it formed. No good will come of external influence. Freya and Nick need to resolve their differences themselves. Dan is confident they will, and I trust his judgment. In any case, what on earth could I find to say in Freya’s defense? I’m as mystified as anyone else.

  The long drag of the motorway passes by in a monotonous gray blur, the sky darkening as I head north. It’s fairly slow going, as the road is crowded with Friday afternoon trippers leaving places like Manchester and heading for the great outdoors. I manage a steady fifty-five miles an hour, frustrated at every minute with Dan lost to the relentless vagaries of rush hour traffic. By the time I pass the Preston turn off, it’s quite dark, a steady drizzle hitting my windscreen.

  Keswick is a fair bit farther away than Kendal, so I hope Dan is able to sort out his move soon. I asked him why he lives so far from his work, and he explained that he settled in Keswick as a newly qualified vet because he landed a job in a practice there. It was convenient back then and he bought a house on the outskirts of the town. His house has been on the market for a couple of months, but rather than waiting for the sale, he’s thinking of moving into a rented place and leasing his house out. Freya’s apartment would be ideal for him, but of course any discussion of that is shelved until she and Nick sort out their future.

  I leave the motorway at Penrith and head across Cumbria toward Keswick, finally reaching the town a little after six-thirty. I check the satnav, pleased to see that my destination is now less than three miles away. I’ll be there in seven minutes. I follow the directions through the town, and exactly six minutes and twenty-seven seconds later pull up in front of a row of smart, newly built town houses. Dan lives at number seventeen. I scan the doors to pick out his house. I know I’ve found the right place when I spot his motorbike parked in the drive. The curtains are closed downstairs, but there’s no light showing behind. Even so, I have no doubt he’s in. Waiting for me. My stomach is quivering with suppressed excitement as I park the Discovery alongside the bike.

  I knock on the door. Maybe I could just walk in—after all, he didn’t knock when he turned up at my flat a couple of days ago. But it seems polite to knock, so I do that and wait patiently on his doorstep. The neighborhood looks smart enough, though it’s not easy to tell really in the dark. There’s no one around, but I notice that most of the other houses have lights on. I wonder if Dan knows his neighbors, if he has friends here. I suppose he does. Will he introduce me to the people he socializes with? Is ours that sort of relationship? Even though I know Dan intimately, I’m still not sure what to expect of him.

  Is ours the sort of relationship where I could take him to meet my family? Even if I wanted to? I’d value his support in trying to reason with my mother but what if something is said, what if he works out what my mother is, how she earns her living. It wouldn’t take much then to put two and two together. I’ve managed to put all that behind me. I can’t let it surface now.

  I’ve moved on, I’m a new person, my life is different now. No connection remains to any of that. Apart from my sisters that is, and I’m desperate to see them. I have to speak to them, reassure myself they’re all right. And when I can, I’ll rescue them, just as I eventually rescued myself.

  Footsteps on the other side of the door, a light flashes on, and suddenly he’s there. Handsome as sin, his grin utterly wicked. “Hello, Summer. It’s good to see you. Come in.”

  “Thank you.” I return the polite greeting as he gestures me across the threshold.

  “Let me hang your coat up.” He holds out his hand as I unbutton my jacket, and helps to slip it off my shoulders.

  He hangs it from a spare hook in a row beside the door then turns to me. Moments later I’m caught, sandwiched between his larger frame and the back of the door, his lips on mine. I sink my fingers into his hair as I accept his tongue sliding against mine. The tangled, sensuous dance starts up again as he tightens his arms around me, lifting me off my feet. He breaks the kiss at last.

  “Welcome to Keswick, little sub. I want to fuck you, now, but I suppose I should offer to feed you first. Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

  “Yes. All that, but I can wait. The fucking part sounds good to me, Sir.”

  “God, I like you. Follow me.”

  He turns abruptly and walks away from me down the hallway. I scurry in his wake, following him into a comfortable-looking lounge. The floor is solid wood, strewn with rugs. Two chocolate colored leather sofas face each other across the room, and a flat screen television dominates one wall. Apart than that, the only additional furniture is a pair of bookcases. I’ve no time to familiarize myself with Dan Riche’s taste in literature though, as he turns on his heel and orders me to strip.

  I do it immediately. Maybe, in time, I’ll become more skilled at removing my clothes seductively. Perhaps I’ll perfect the art of sexy disrobing, maybe even learn to do it to music. But not now. Not today. Today I simply undress without further comment. He’s lounging on one of the sofas watching me, I know that I have his full attention, just as he has mine, but I don’t raise my eyes to look at Dan. Although he hasn’t told me to kneel, I do that anyway. It seems the natural thing to do, to place myself at his feet and wait for his further instructions.

  He leans forward, his hand in my hair lifting my face to look at him. “You are very lovely. You delight me, Summer. Absolutely.”

  I don’t know how to answer, what to say. So I say nothing, just smile. It seems to be sufficient, as he leans in to kiss me again. His lips are gentler, less demanding. My mouth opens under his, but he doesn’t invade this time. So I do, slipping my tongue into his mouth, tasting, testing, exploring. My actions are innocuous enough, but I feel adventurous, pushy, maybe a little assertive. My transformation amazes even me. A few stern words, an instruction to strip, and I’m naked at his feet and eager for whatever he decides to do with me.

  “I promised you a spanking the other evening, but became distracted by your minty little cunt. We need to put that right, I think. Here and now.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He straightens and sits a little farther back, patting his knee in a gesture which leaves no room for doubt as to his immediate intention. I stand and lean across his lap, settling my weight safely.

  “Comfortable?”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

  “Ten strokes, quite hard. I’ll stop if you ask me to, but I’d prefer not to.”

  “Of course, Sir.” I brace myself for the first slap.

  He doesn’t keep me waiting long, and I hiss in my breath as his palm connects sharply with my left buttock. He hasn’t asked me to count, so I say nothing, just wait for the spanking to continue.

  The next three slaps are delivered fast. He meant it when he said he would be spanking me hard, and already my bottom is sore. I manage not to cry out, though, even when the next two strokes leave me feeling as though my bum is about to catch fire.

  I’m not saying the numbers out loud, but I’m counting the blows in my head. Just four to go. I have no doubt I can manage this, but I won’t complain when it’s done. I’ve come to enjoy a nice, erotic spanking, and my naked bum responds well, but I prefer him to be just a little less heavy-handed. Perhaps I could tell him so…

  “Oh, Sir. That really hurts.” The seventh slap is a real stinger, the crack resounding around the room.

  “Good, I have your attention then. You’ve been so quiet, I thought I might be boring you.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir. Please be assured I’m not bored.”

  “I’m gratified to hear this.”

  The eighth slap draws a shriek
of real pain from me. “Oh, Sir, please…”

  He ignores my protests. “Two more, then you’ll show me your soaking wet cunt.”

  I say nothing, and wait for the final two slaps to land. My bottom is smarting, really, really painfully. But I’m almost there.

  Nothing happens. I wait, quivering, my sore buttocks clenching in dreadful anticipation. Still nothing. Long seconds drag past, and at last I turn my head, trying to look up.

  “Did I tell you to move?”

  “No, Sir. I apologize.” This is no time to go inviting further attention. I’m seriously nervous now, uncertain of what I should be doing. Or saying. There’s something, I’m sure of it. I whimper as his palm connects again with my smarting bum. This time it isn’t a spank, though, it’s a gentle caress. Despite my nerves, it feels heavenly.

  “You like this?”

  “Yes, Sir, very much.”

  “And are you enjoying your spanking, little slut?”

  I hesitate, then, “Yes Sir.” I’m amazed at myself, but it’s the truth. The more he hurts me, the more I love it.

  “Then thank me for my care and concern. If you ask me nicely, I’ll let you have your last two slaps. Would you like that?”

  “I would, Sir. Thank you for all you’ve done for me already. Please, could I have those final two?”

  “Of course, my sweet little slut. Would you like them to be hard? Harder than before?”

  “Yes, Sir, I would.” Again, I’m amazed. Just by talking to me, making me talk to him about what’s happening, he transforms a severe, painful spanking into a beautifully erotic experience. My pussy was wet before, but I’m dripping as those last two spanks sear my tender buttocks. I scream, but we both know that my cries are as much to do with pleasure now as pain.

  I lie still, my throbbing bottom quivering as he caresses me, his palm rough and firm on my soreness.

  “I promised you a pretty red bum, sweetheart. Would you like to see?”

  “I believe you, Sir.” I flinch, despite my growing pleasure as he strokes the hurt away.

  “Stand up.” The words are softly spoken, but I know he means me to obey him without question.

  I’m stiff, still happily sore, but I lever myself up with my hands and stand in front of him. I’m trembling, despite the warmth in the room. He must have turned up the heating especially for me.

  “Turn around and bend over. Spread your legs for me please.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I’m still a little unsteady, but I attempt it anyway. As I wobble, he catches my hips between his hands.

  “There are buffets in the kitchen. You can go and fetch one if you need something to lean on.

  “Thank you, Sir. Where…?”

  “Across the hallway. I doubt you’ll get lost. Be quick, girl.”

  I rush out of the room, quickly locate the kitchen—there are only two other rooms downstairs anyway as far as I can tell—and return to the lounge carrying a padded breakfast stool. I place it in front of Dan, and proceed to position myself for his inspection.

  He parts the lips of my pussy with his thumbs, leaning forward to blow on my delicate folds. The flutter of air is delightful, sweetly intimate, just the merest whisper from a lick, or a kiss. One long finger slides into my cunt, slowly. He twists it, swirling it inside me as I hold still, concentrating on keeping my knees locked. I’m sure, if he thrusts just even slightly, I’ll come. And I’ll simply melt. He hasn’t given me permission to orgasm and I don’t want to mess up now. I’m gnawing on my bottom lip, my concentration intense as he circles the entrance to my pussy with his fingertips.

  “Yes, very wet. You seem to be having a good time, Summer.”

  “I am, Sir. You’ve made me feel very welcome.”

  He chuckles. “Sassy little sub. Maybe I need to spank you again, teach you some better manners.”

  “I meant no disrespect, Sir. I’m just happy to be here.”

  “I’m happy too. So far. I’ll be even happier when I sink my cock into your arse.” He parts my still smarting buttocks to examine my tight entrance, and I gasp as he inserts the tip of his thumb.

  “You’re tight today. Are you resisting, perhaps.”

  I realize that I am, and make a conscious effort to relax my muscles. “I apologize, Sir. It won’t happen again.”

  “I suspect it will, but we’ll deal with it. Your body is mine, every part of it, mine to use, to play with, to do as I want. Are we agreed on that. Summer?”

  “Yes, Sir, absolutely.” He increases the pressure, slipping his thumb right into my arse now.

  “Mmm, better. You’re very wet, but I think we still need extra lube here. Wouldn’t want to hurt you by mistake. You’ll find it in the bathroom cupboard. Top of the stairs.”

  He withdraws his thumb and pats me on the hip to indicate I’m to go on my errand immediately. I wasn’t planning to hang around. Moments later I’m back, a tube of lubricant in one hand and a bottle of peppermint oil in the other.

  “I wasn’t sure which to bring.”

  Dan’s grin is distinctly wicked. “Peppermint oil in your arse—now that would be fun. Soon, love, but not tonight. I think I’d need to tie you down to do that, and right now I want you to stand in front of me while I lube you up.” He twirls his index finger to indicate I’m to bend over again.

  “Ooh, that’s cold, Sir.” A chilly blob of lube lands directly on my anus. Dan works it inside, his fingers deft.

  “It’ll soon warm up. Stop wriggling.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry, Sir.”

  “Yes, I’m sorry, Sir.” I manage to remain still as he eases two, then three fingers into my arse, thrusting and twisting to open the entrance. I groan, the pleasure building fast. An idea occurs to me.

  “May I touch my clit, Sir?”

  “Soon, when my cock’s inside you.”

  “But I want to come, Sir. Please.”

  “If you do that without my permission, it will be the last orgasm you have all weekend. Do I make myself clear, girl?”

  “Yes, Sir.” I grit my teeth and concentrate on relaxing my muscles further. The sooner his cock is in my arse, the better, as far as I’m concerned.

  Dan’s in no mood to hang about either. He stands, unfastens his jeans, then pushes the denim and his boxers out of the way. From my position, I can’t see his cock, but I hear the sound of foil tearing as he opens the condom packet.

  “I thought we didn’t need to use them anymore. I’m on the pill.”

  “We wouldn’t make babies this way in any case. I intend to fuck your pussy too, after this. I won’t be using a condom then, and you’ll thank me for my attention to hygiene.”

  Of course. “I see. Thank you for being so considerate, Sir.”

  “I promised not to harm you, remember? Ready?”

  “I think so, Sir.”

  “So do I.” His cock is positioned at my anus, the head just pushing inside. He takes my hips between his palms to hold me still and presses forward. “Push yourself back against me, and relax as much as you can. I want you to help with this.”

  I do as he instructed and his cock slips inside. It’s tight. I feel impossibly full, stretched around him.

  “Hold it there a moment. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, Sir, I think so.” My voice is a thready whisper now, my concentration intense.

  “Push back again.”

  I do as he said, and his entire length slides in. If not for the breakfast stool, I would without doubt be on the floor. I moan softly, loving the sense of fullness, the intensity of it. It’s exhilarating and exciting and frightening all at once. Dan caresses my bottom, no longer especially sore now.

  “Well done, love. Feel free to touch yourself however you like now.”

  “Do I have permission to come?”

  “If you must.”

  “I think I must, Sir. I really do.”

  “Go for it then.”

  My fingers close around my s
wollen clit and I tug it. I’m gentle at first as I experiment with the intensity of sensation, then I increase the pressure. Dan withdraws, almost pulls out of me, before driving his cock forward again. The lube is good. It does its job. The action is smooth and easy, despite my tightness. On impulse, I sink two fingers into my pussy, thrusting in time with Dan’s movements. It feels good, but not as exquisite as when he finger-fucks me. I try again, searching for that elusive something.

  “At the front, about an inch in. Rub there.”

  “What?”

  “Do it, love. Trust me.”

  I follow his instructions, and it’s there, that wonderful, sensual feeling, that explosion of truly delightful tingling. I gasp, make a sound somewhere between a scream and a groan.

  “I guess you found it?”

  “Yes, God yes. Oh, that’s good, so good.”

  “It is, baby. So now, I fuck you until you scream. Yes?”

  “Yes, yes, yes!”

  There are no more words, just action. Dan thrusts hard. I scream again. He withdraws, only to sink his cock deep into me once more. He’s finished with gentle and so am I. He’s driving his cock deep and fast, fucking me relentlessly. I squeeze around him, tightening my muscles, gripping him like a fist. I rub my G-spot, angling my hand to also hit my clit. I’m grasping the edge of the buffet, clinging on as my orgasm bursts through me.

  “Oh God, Dan. Sir. I love you.”

  Even locked in the throes of orgasm as I am, I know what I’ve said. Dan slows, stiffens. He heard me too. Oh Christ, what have I done?

  He leans forward, his chest to my back. “Did you say something, little sub?” His voice is gentle, a caress in itself

  “I’m sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean that.”

  “No? You don’t love me then?” No harshness in his tone, just honeyed warmth.

  “I do, but I didn’t mean to say it just then. It just came out.”

  “Pity, because I love you. And I do mean it.”