by Ashe Barker
Even now, despite my whirling thoughts and confusion, he cuts through the lot with just one word. I lower the menu to the tabletop and meet his eyes.
“I’m thinking the visit home didn’t go well?” His eyebrow is raised. He’s waiting for me to elaborate.
I chew my bottom lip. Could I? Should I? I open my mouth to speak, still not certain what’s going to come out.
“No. We argued. Me and my mum.” There. The lies have started. So much for the promises I made only yesterday. Operation cover up starts here.
“I see. What about?” Dan’s tone is low, calm. But he seems to believe me. So far.
I shake my head briefly. “Nothing. Well, not nothing. Family stuff. We always argue. It’ll pass.”
“It’s obviously upset you. Do you want to go back, maybe sort it out?”
“No! Well, not today anyway. I’ll phone my mum next week, when we’ve both calmed down. That’s usually how we deal with stuff.” Piling the lies up, I really should stop soon. I pray silently that he’ll drop it.
“I see. But before today, how long since you spoke to her on the phone?” No such luck.
“A while. Too long.” That’s true at least.
“How are your sisters? Did you see them?”
“Yes.” I redden, my cheeks starting to flame. “They’re fine.” That’s also true, as far as I know.
Dan says nothing. He just watches me, waiting. I sit before him, in silence, withering under his scrutiny. His eyes narrow, his forehead furrowing slightly. I shift in my seat, my bottom tingling. That look, I know that look.
“Beef stew then. Chips or jacket potato?
“What? What did you…?”
“What do you want to eat, Summer?” He stands, his expression unreadable now. Whatever that was just then, the moment has passed. I relax, and sag in my seat.
“Oh, right. Yes, the stew. Jacket potato please.”
His nod is curt as he turns and strides across the restaurant to give our order at the self-service counter. I take advantage of the precious moments of respite to carefully school my features back into something resembling a woman out for a nice afternoon with a man she loves.
I must be a better liar than I thought, because he doesn’t call me on it again.
* * * *
Dan’s right. The beef stew is good. We eat in silence—or I do. Dan’s back to his normal relaxed self, passing me the salt, offering me tea or coffee after my meal. I answer in nods, headshakes, and when those fail me, monosyllables. If he notices, he lets it pass.
If? Of course he notices. But he seems to have decided to respect my need for privacy and he’s not probing for more details of my alleged domestic bust-up. I appreciate this, I really do. By the time we’re back in the Discovery and on our way to Keswick, I’ve fully regrouped and I’m determined to put on a decent show.
“What would you like to do this evening?” I turn to him, study his profile as he maneuvers through the light North Lakes traffic.
He slants a warm smile back at me. “Fuck you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m sorry, was I not clear? This evening, I’d like to strip your clothes off, spread you out on my bed, tie you to it, and fuck you until you beg me to stop.”
“I see.”
“You do tend to make a lot of din, so I’ll need to gag you too. Would that be all right with you, Summer? Or would you like to talk to me?”
Unsure how to answer that, I sit in silence as he slows down for a blind junction. He stops the vehicle to look both ways along the road. He glances in the rear-view mirror before turning to me. “I’m good at listening, Summer. If you want to talk.”
I stare at him, tempted. It would be so easy. But then what? Then, would come the explanations, the remembering. The denying all the stuff I can’t bear to be true. My life would be messy again, untidy, disorganized. I shake my head.
“No, a gag will be fine.”
He tilts his head in acceptance and re-checks the road before setting off again.
The rest of the journey is uneventful. Dan chats to me, pleasant, friendly. He seems unconcerned at my refusal to talk to him, even though it’s clear he knows there’s something bothering me, something more than I’m telling him.
He could insist, could apply more force if he chose. I know he’s not above that. But he lets it go, apparently preferring to maintain a light banter. Eventually, I manage to drag my mood back to something more matching his, and by the time he pulls up outside his own house again, we’re back to normal. Sort of. The pretend sort.
Dan unlocks the door then stands aside to let me go in first. He takes my jacket and hangs it up next to his.
“I changed my mind about the bed. I want you on my living room floor.”
“Naked?”
“Of course.”
“But still tied up?”
“Do you prefer to be tied?”
“I do like it. Yes, Sir”
“Thought so. Tied up then. And gagged. The peppermint goes in your arse this time. I’m expecting you to make a lot of noise and I prefer not to have my neighbors phoning the police. You have two minutes to get ready.” He turns on his heel and strides out. His footsteps on the stairs tell me all I need to know—he’s headed for the bathroom cabinet.
When he returns a couple of minutes later, I’m kneeling on the sheepskin rug spread on the hardwood floor, in front of the fireplace. I’m naked, naturally. Dan merely nods his approval as he walks into the room, passing me as he heads for the low table beside the sofa. He deposits a small bottle there, a bottle I recognize.
“I’ll be using the peppermint oil as lube. On this.” He holds out a butt plug. It’s made of glass, and looks to be larger than any he’s put inside me previously. I’m not troubled by it, though. His cock is thicker, and I can accept that without any real problem. If he’s careful, and I’m well lubricated. Which I will be…
“I want you to lube it up. When you’re ready, hand it to me and assume the position.” He seats himself on the sofa, clearly in no hurry.
“What about…?” Always before, he’s prepared me carefully. Well, not last night, perhaps. Not specifically then. But I was obviously ready, very aroused. This seems cold, clinical almost.
“What about what?” His eyebrows are lowered, he’s watching my hesitation and I suspect he’s not terribly impressed by it.
“What about preparing me? You usually—help me to loosen up first.”
“Not this time. That’s a smooth plug. If you lube it well and cooperate while I insert it, we’ll have no problems.”
There’s a part of me, a small part admitted, that wonders if this is some sort of punishment. The consequences of defying him earlier when he asked about my visit home. I dismiss that. Dan doesn’t play games. If he intended to discipline me, he’d be up front about it. He’d make sure I knew what was happening and why. And if he says this can be done the way he describes, then it can. I reach for the bottle and take the plug from his outstretched hand.
A couple of minutes later I pass the oiled butt plug back to Dan. I could have completed my preparations more quickly but there was no point. As soon as I started the process, he stood and left the room. He was gone a short while, returning with a pair of handcuffs, and a black ball gag. He dropped those on the rug beside me and resumed his seat on the sofa.
The handcuffs don’t bother me. He’s never used them before, but he’s used leather straps, ropes, his tie. I’m comfortable with whatever he chooses. The ball gag looks intimidating. I’m sure I’ll look grotesque wearing it but I daresay that’s part of the point. I’m to be humiliated, subjugated to his will. Despite my apprehension, a familiar tingle of delighted anticipation slithers through my lower abdomen, settling in my pussy. I’m dampening, I know it.
Dan picks up the handcuffs first. “Behind your back, I think. Could you turn around please, Summer?”
“Yes, Sir.” I turn my back, and place my hands behind me. He slips the
cuffs on, and locks them with a decisive clunk.
“I hope you have the key handy, Sir.” I try to inject a note of levity into my voice, but I suspect the tremor is still noticeable.
“I’m sure you do. The gag now. Any last words?”
“No, Sir.”
“Good.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a scarf. It’s pale blue, with lilac stripes marbled through it. Very attractive, actually. He bundles it up in his fist. “I’m going to place this in your hand. Keep your fingers clenched around it. If you need to safe word, drop the scarf.”
“I see. Thank you, Sir.” It occurs to me I never even thought to ask him about how I would safe word if I needed to.
He places the scarf in my fist then picks up the ball gag.
“I thought of something, Sir. A question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Is the oil the same as before?”
“The same? You mean the same strength?
I nod.
“It is. You seemed to cope with it okay. You could probably tolerate it a little stronger, in fact, but I prefer to take it slowly. I wouldn’t want to put you off.”
My smile is one of relief and gratitude. “Thank you. I appreciate that, Sir.”
“You’re welcome. Anything else?”
“No, Sir.”
“Open your mouth then.”
I do, and he swiftly pops the ball between my lips then fastens the gag at the back of my head. It feels horrible, worse than the knotted scarf did a couple of days ago. But I managed that. I can accept this too. I swallow, concentrate on breathing evenly through my nose. Dan watches my efforts calmly, waiting for me to be steady enough to continue. His eyebrow is raised, his head cocked to one side. After a few seconds, I nod my acceptance, the signal I’m okay.
Dan flicks his finger to indicate I’m to turn around and lean forward. I obey, lifting my bottom up for him.
“Good girl.” His palm is warm as he caresses my buttock and despite the gag, I start to relax. Dan’s touch will generally do that for me, I find. “I never get tired of looking at these birds. Your richness of swallows. Beautiful.” He traces the outline of the lowest bird with his fingertip then trails onward toward the furrow between my buttocks.
I know what happens next, and I lean further forward, arching my back to present my body for him. The faint splash of oil swilling around in the tiny bottle tells me Dan is lubing his finger end. Always considerate, he does intend to open me a little, prepare my entrance for the plug. His fingertip circles my anus first, spreading the pungent oil across my delicate skin. I gasp, or what passes for it through a ball gag. My body jerks hard, despite my determination not to make a fuss. The oil is both hot and cold at the same time, and the scent seems stronger than before. I concentrate on breathing slowly as Dan works the oil into my tight hole. The cool heat radiates around my arse, and I tighten around his probing finger.
“You’re tensing up, girl. Do you trust me not to hurt you?”
I nod, turning my head to glance at him over my shoulder. He looks up, briefly. “It’s going in fast then. Easier for you in the long run.”
I wouldn’t protest even if I was not gagged. I close my eyes, nod once more, and will my body to relax. Dan reaches for the oiled plug and pulls his finger from my arse. It is swiftly replaced by the plug, the smooth, slick surface sliding easily past my sphincter, despite my body’s involuntary resistance.
It hurts. It hurts like fuck. I’m surprised momentarily—I expected this to be easier than before. After all, my clit’s the most sensitive place, surely. It would seem not and in any case, such puzzled musings are shoved unceremoniously from my consciousness as the heat of the oil seeps into my inner walls, already stretched tight around the plug. The oil is added torment, and I lurch to one side, intending to roll away from Dan. His hands are on my hips, holding me still.
“You have your safe signal. Use that if you need to. No wriggling or fighting me.” The Dom voice is stern, unyielding, and overrides all other sensation.
I stop my nonsense instantly, go still under his hands.
“Breathe in and out slowly. Listen to me, Summer. Breathe in…”
I do, as he told me, drawing air in through my nose. It’s uneven, my breath catching, but I manage it.
“Now out.”
Again I obey.
“In. Out. In. Out.”
Under his quiet instruction, I regain control, and find I’m managing to tolerate the burning inside my arse.
“If you clench, it makes it feel more intense. Maybe you could try to relax your muscles more.”
Easy for him to say. Even so, it sounds like good advice and I make a conscious attempt not to tighten my bum around the plug. My efforts are soon thwarted as Dan lands a sharp swat on my bottom. My left cheek takes the force of the unexpected slap, and the peppermint soars back into overdrive. My scream is silent behind the gag, but I’m aware that if the ball wasn’t there, I’d be shrieking fit to raise the rafters. Dan was right about disturbing the neighbors.
Tears are streaming from my eyes. This is intense, made more so by not knowing what he might do next. I watch him over my shoulder, my watery gaze following Dan as he stands and strolls from the room. I know better than to move. I wait, breathing slowly, willing the burning sensation to settle and subside.
It shows no sign of doing so, and Dan’s soon back. He kneels behind me again, and there’s a soft thud as he drops something onto the rug. It’s out of my line of sight, and of course I can’t ask. So I have to trust him.
“Would you like me to stroke your clit?” The question is matter-of-fact, delivered in a deadpan tone.
I’m not deceived, there’s more to it. There always is. Still, I turn to look at him, and slut that I am, I nod.
“Right. But first, how does this feel?” He takes the finger grip of the butt plug and swirls it inside me.
The sensation bursts into life again, reinvigorated, and quite agonizing. I jerk uncontrollably, casting him a baleful look.
“Your expression is not one I care for. Will a spanking be required, Summer?”
I shake my head hard. Please, not now.
“Okay, but watch it. Now, here’s the deal. I’ll stroke your clit. I’ll even let you come, but only after you ask me to fuck your arse with the plug. Accept the arse-fuck, and you get the orgasm. Would you like that, little slut?”
Would I? Good question. Silly question. Of course I would. I nod slowly. The smile that blooms across Dan’s handsome face is positively wicked.
“Oh, my beautiful, sexy little slut, you never let me down. Shall we continue then?”
Again, I nod. And I brace myself for what’s to come.
Except it’s different again, as he surely knew it would be. I’m more attuned now to the way the oil feels, the way it affects me. My body is adjusting, the chilly heat now adding piquancy and spice rather than discomfort. When Dan takes the finger grip in his hand again and this time draws the plug back out of my arse, the sensation is sweet, satisfying, the delightful friction heightened by my over-sensitized inner walls. My muscles contract around the plug, greedy for more. Dan plunges it back into me. The movement is hard and sharp. The sensation is intensely erotic and I want more—much more. I lift my bottom up, arching my back provocatively.
“Good girl, loving that.”
Dan’s soft murmur warms me, melts me. I wait, poised for his next move. He withdraws the plug again, to thrust it back in hard. He repeats, this time reaching under me to lay the pad of his finger across my clit. He rubs gently as he continues to fuck my arse with the butt plug. The heat is fading from the peppermint oil now, but Dan’s actions are swift and drive deep. He maintains the pressure, building my arousal.
My orgasm is not long in coming, building fast, enveloping me. Waves of pleasure pulse through me, starting initially in my arse and radiating outwards, only to settle and concentrate at my clit as Dan caresses the throbbing bud. He flicks the tip lightly, then takes the
whole of the swelling nub between his thumb and index finger and tugs as my release sweeps through my body.
He does not let up, even as my orgasm passes. He continues to stroke and squeeze, maintaining me at the brink of orgasm as he again thrusts the plug in and out of my arse. He’s firm, my body is his to use, to play with. And he is certainly using it now. But he’s not rough, not even slightly. I hum my pleasure behind the gag, then groan in protest as he withdraws his touch from my pussy. Dan’s fingers in my hair are the only indication he’s loosening it, but suddenly the ties are dangling and I spit out the ball.
“You have something to say, little slut?”
I work my tongue, sucking in my cheeks, regaining control of my mouth. Then, “Yes Sir, That was wonderful.”
“You want more?”
“Please, yes.”
“More of this?” He takes the plug and fucks me with it again, three or four swift strokes. I groan into the sheepskin rug beneath my cheek, my face turned to him.
“Or this?” He takes my clit again, rolls it firmly between his fingers.
“Sir, I’m going to come. I can’t help it…” Do I have permission? Do I need it?
“Are you. That sounds nice.”
Thank God.
“I want your cock inside me. Please, Sir.”
“Do you want to keep the plug a bit longer?”
“Yes. I want your cock and the plug, Sir.”
“So, you’ve become attached to it. And greedy too. What am I going to do with you?”
“Anything, Sir, anything. But please, fuck me now.”
“When you put it so delicately, how could I turn you down?”
I gasp as Dan slips his hands under my stomach to raise my bum up a little more before setting me down on his cock. He slides into my pussy, balls deep, and rotates his hips to settle me there. I’m gasping, impossibly full. I can feel his cock right through to my arse, only a narrow barrier of flesh separating his solid erection from the plug. He gives me no time to adjust before he starts to thrust, his movements slow at first, but quickly gaining in strength and ferocity.
“Oh God, Sir…”
