Turning Up the Heat

by Ashley Lister

  There was no give in the belt. It held her, rigid and unrelenting.

  The wetness in her loins became slick with urgent need.

  He finished unfastening her blouse and pulled it free from the waistband of her trousers. Admiring her exposed bra, he stroked a thumb against the concealed thrust of her nipple and then chuckled darkly.

  ‘Why are you laughing, Mr Hart?’

  ‘I’m laughing because I enjoy having you tied up and available for my pleasure,’ he admitted. ‘It’s satisfying to know I can have you whenever and however I want you.’

  She could have argued with him and told him that she was always available for his pleasure and he didn’t need bondage for that. Instead, she nodded earnestly and agreed with him. ‘Yes, Mr Hart. Whenever, wherever and however you want. I’m yours and I’m always available.’

  Then he was kissing her again. Their lips met in that delicious melding she had come to appreciate as the intense epitome of their passion. He fumbled with the drawstring fastening on her chequered chef’s trousers until they were unfastened and kicked to the floor.

  She expected him to remove her panties with equal haste.

  Instead, he peeled them away from her sex and then pulled them down to the top of her feet. He moved briefly out of her embrace and, when he returned, she realised he had used the panties to bind her ankles to one of the table’s legs.

  She didn’t know whether to admire his ingenuity or dread whatever torment he now had in mind for her. Rather than dwelling on either of those responses, she quietly enjoyed the thrill of knowing that she was now completely at his mercy. Her wrists and ankles were bound. She was precariously seated on the corner of a restaurant table. And she was fully exposed for him.

  ‘Some people say a couple should have a safe word when they’re playing games like this,’ he muttered. ‘I think we’ve already got a safe word. If you don’t like what I’m doing, Ms McLaughlin, I want you to say, “Stop.”’

  She nodded.

  She liked that he had chosen a word that was pragmatic and functional. It was appropriate for his forthright personality. It was also a word that she vowed she wouldn’t use as long as Bill was exciting her so much.

  ‘Very good, Mr Hart.’

  When his mouth returned to hers his fingers pressed hard against her right breast. The stiffness of her nipple was already acutely sensitive. He caught the bead of flesh between his finger and thumb and lightly squeezed.

  A shiver of electric excitement sparked through her breast. She could feel her body hurtling towards a blissful release. She opened her eyes and studied him with undisguised adoration.

  ‘You are so vulnerable in this position,’ he muttered.

  The words made her whimper.

  He took his hand from her nipple and stroked idly down her side. His fingers moved further downwards, over the shape of her ribs to the swell of her hip. His caress was soft and light and charged with enough tactile magic to leave her desperate for more.

  ‘Why, Ms McLaughlin,’ he murmured. There was a pretence of surprise in his voice. ‘I do believe I can do whatever I please to you while you’re in this position.’

  She swallowed.

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart.’

  Bill released his erection from his trousers and pressed the end against the wetness of her sex. She didn’t know if the position was awkward for him, or if he was trying to tease her to a point of delirium.

  Either way, she supposed, the effect was the same.

  The intimate contact was urging her to a frenzy of response. She twisted and shifted and writhed against her restraints, desperate to get closer to him. She attempted to inch forward on the corner of the table but it was a clumsy attempt to manoeuvre herself and she realised she was only adding to the precariousness of her situation and the build-up of her own frustrations.

  Bill remained maddeningly out of reach.

  She strained against the strap holding her wrists behind her back. It wasn’t that she needed to be free but, she thought, if she broke the bindings, she would be able to take him in her embrace and hold him.

  She strained against the panties that bound her ankles. She could feel the fabric give a little as she pulled, and she figured the underwear was probably now ruined and unwearable.

  But that scarcely mattered. More important was the prospect of pulling free from the underwear so she could wrap her ankles around Bill’s hips and ride him with the ferocity demanded by the arousal he had excited in her.

  Yet still he remained maddeningly out of reach.

  She saw he was smiling.

  She guessed he was only teasing. And, in that moment, she didn’t think there could be a better way to heighten her pleasure than to succumb to the torment he wanted to inflict.

  When Bill eventually deigned to penetrate her, Trudy’s cry was loud enough to echo through the empty restaurant. He pushed into her so forcefully that she would have fallen backwards if his strong arms hadn’t been there to take her into his embrace.

  Not that she noticed that detail until later.

  When he pushed into her, Trudy’s concentration was focused solely on the thrill of having his thick length thrust fluidly into the tight confines of her sex. He was broad and hard and filled her the way she so desperately needed to be filled. Trudy wondered if he knew how much she adored indulging in these games with him. Even though the spanking could sometimes be painful, and the bondage involved a huge investment of trust, she could think of no better way to spend an evening than to be playing kinky games with her beloved William Hart.

  ‘Are you enjoying this, Ms McLaughlin?’ he murmured.

  The words were whispered into the cup of her ear.

  When he spoke she realised he had been pressing kisses against the nape of her neck. She had been so immersed in sensory overload that she had barely been aware of his head resting against hers. Her responses had been excited by the sensation of his hands gripping her buttocks tight and his length sliding smoothly in and out of her sopping sex.

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart,’ she breathed. ‘Yes. I’m enjoying it.’

  He chuckled and said, ‘Me too.’

  His climax came in a powerful rush. He held himself deep inside her as the explosion came. She could feel his shaft tremble and pulse and thrust. The rush of his scalding ejaculate, slick, hot and copious, was the momentum her body needed to spark her own release.

  A ripple of raw satisfaction rushed through her sex.

  She tilted her head back and groaned. It was a delicious climax that could only have been made better if her hands had been free so she could hug him as the pleasure buffeted her body. She took solace from the fact that he was holding her tight as his shaft continued to pulse and spurt deep inside her.

  ‘We shall have to try this again, Ms McLaughlin,’ he said, unfastening her.

  She rubbed circulation back into her wrists. The belt had left red lines on her skin where she had strained against its restrictions. The marks excited her darkly and she was surprised when her body trembled with another rush of satisfaction as she caressed them.

  ‘Yes, Mr Hart,’ she agreed. ‘We’ll have to do it again. And soon.’

  He unfastened the bondage of the panties and helped her down from the table. Trudy felt briefly lightheaded, as though the orgasm had left her weakened. She was thankful to sit down as she pulled her chequered trousers back on and fastened a couple of the buttons on her blouse.

  The panties, as she had expected, were ruined. She pushed them into her pocket to dispose of later. Ruined lingerie, she supposed, was a small price to pay for the satisfaction of having a lover with the skill and ingenuity of her Bill.

  He poured them glasses of Chivas Regal and sat down to face her. She watched as he reached to the jacket on the back of his chair and pulled a crumpled envelope from the breast pocket.

  Trudy recognised it immediately. ‘You found it?’

  ‘It was on the kitchen table in front of the espresso machine,’ he grunted.
‘I couldn’t have missed it.’

  ‘I thought that would be the best place.’

  ‘Do I take it Imogen called round?’

  Trudy nodded. She wanted to point out that the card wasn’t from Imogen. It had been sent on behalf of baby Bill. But she knew there would be no point in making such a distinction. She wasn’t sure there was a distinction.

  He took the card from the envelope and read it with his brow furrowed.

  ‘How come you don’t talk with Imogen?’ Trudy asked.

  He shook his head. ‘I’m not in the wrong here. Imogen doesn’t talk with me. I’d talk with her if she’d make the first move. But she doesn’t seem willing to do so.’

  Trudy could have pointed out that the card from baby Bill could have been interpreted as a first move, but she wasn’t sure how he would react, and she was trying to handle the situation with tact and sensitivity.

  ‘Why does Imogen have to make the first move?’

  ‘You don’t understand. It’s complicated.’

  ‘Maybe I don’t understand. But I’m asking you to explain it to me.’

  ‘Why? Why is this important to you?’

  She felt momentarily stung by a surge of anger. Just because he was older and had more worldly experience, it didn’t mean that his comprehension of issues was more valid than her own. Just because he was sexually dominant in their relationship, he didn’t have to be dominant in every aspect of their lives. Screw tact and sensitivity, she thought angrily. Bill might have more experience in so many things but she felt sure that her opinion on this counted.

  ‘I don’t have any family,’ she reminded him. ‘That might mean I know little about how families work. But it’s given me a strong insight into how important they are.’

  He started to apologise.

  She wouldn’t let him interrupt and stop her making her point.

  ‘I know how bad it is to not have a family. I don’t like the idea of you or Imogen or little baby Bill missing out on something as important as the family you’ve got.’

  He drained his whisky. He was studying her with a peculiar expression and Trudy didn’t know if he was pleased with her show of determination or angry that she had shouted at him in such a didactic fashion. Rather than exchange moody glares, Trudy picked up her own whisky glass and sipped at the remains of the drink.

  ‘OK,’ Bill agreed eventually. He waved the crumpled card like a surrender flag and said, ‘I’ll give it some thought.’

  On reflection, Trudy thought it was probably the best thing he could have said.

  Chapter 21

  Charlotte sat behind the desk of her steel and grey office.

  Instead of looking like the managing director of a successful online gourmet catering company, Trudy thought she looked like a model assuming that role for a photo shoot. Charlotte was attractive, smartly dressed in a powder-blue Ralph Lauren combination worn with a pair of scarlet heels. The office around her was an immaculate construction of style and technology.

  Sitting in the facing chair Trudy felt small and inadequate as she waited for her friend to sign a series of documents. In contrast to Charlotte’s appearance of meticulous efficiency, Trudy was dressed in battered flats, comfortable jeans and a faded university hoodie.

  She wondered if now would be the right time to ask Charlotte about Donny. Given the importance of what she needed to discuss, it would be silly to jeopardise negotiations by bringing up such a contentious matter. But she would have to raise the question at some point. The sooner something like that was aired in public, Trudy figured, the sooner the matter could be either dismissed as ridiculous or confronted, discussed and managed.

  But, she decided, now was probably not the right time.

  ‘I’m finished,’ Charlotte said, pushing the last of the documents aside. She capped her pen and placed it on her desk. Smiling at Trudy she said, ‘So what was it you needed to talk to me about that demanded a formal meeting? Is it something deadly serious and important?’

  ‘It’s fairly serious,’ Trudy admitted.

  ‘Will it cause an argument?’

  ‘It might do.’

  ‘Then say it now. Let’s get it over with.’

  Trudy swallowed. ‘I need to employ Daryl as my PA.’

  ‘No.’ Charlotte didn’t hesitate. She simply shook her head as though the conversation was already closed. ‘No way. That’s not happening. Not in a million years.’

  ‘Seriously. I need her. She’s perfect for the role.’

  ‘She’s also perfect for her role as Sweet Temptation’s head of admin. Where she currently works. In a company in which you have partial ownership. I can’t spare her.’ She fixed Trudy with a vexed expression and said, ‘We can’t spare her. Not if we want to make a success of this company.’

  ‘Please, Charlotte,’ Trudy begged. ‘I wouldn’t be asking if I thought there was any way round this. But I need her to help me.’

  Charlotte stood up and walked to the kettle she kept at the side of the office. She boiled it and poured two cups of Earl Grey. She lingered by the mugs for a moment as though composing her thoughts and trying to reason her way through a complex argument.

  The silence in the office was uncomfortable and oppressive.

  Trudy studied a rip in the knee of her jeans. It was a tear that had been made when she was bent over on all fours in the garden of Bill’s cottage. She had been kneeling on the gravel path while he took her from behind. She had thought of throwing the jeans out because of the damage but the tear seemed to give them sentimental value.

  After a long moment considering the drinks, Charlotte took Trudy’s mug and placed it in front of her. She then walked slowly back to her chair, pressed the intercom on the desk and asked Daryl to join them in the office.

  The silence resumed.

  Trudy studied her friend carefully. She was watching to see if Charlotte’s hands were shaking or if she was showing any signs of nervousness or unease.

  If anything, Charlotte looked more composed than Trudy had ever seen her before. She returned Trudy’s scowl with good-natured patience. She sipped quietly at her tea, blowing on the surface to cool the liquid and looking cool and calm.

  The tension in the air made Trudy think of those old western movies where two poker players bluff one another over a high-stakes card table. She could see that Charlotte did not want to back down on this matter. But she was equally determined that she was going to win. She needed a reliable PA and she could think of no one more appropriate for the position than Daryl.

  Daryl was efficient. She was capable. And she was interesting company. It was a job that Daryl was already doing since she had been acting as personal chauffeur for Trudy and regularly liaising between Sweet Temptation and Boui-Boui. While Trudy could understand Charlotte’s reluctance to let Daryl go, she figured Charlotte would eventually see sense.

  Daryl came breezing into the office. She was wearing vermilion jeans and a white blouse with capped sleeves. She studied Trudy and Charlotte warily and stopped in the doorway.

  She held a tablet in one hand and a stylus in the other and it looked like she had come to the office with the intention of taking notes. Her usual cheery disposition seemed to falter in the face of Charlotte and Trudy’s solemnity.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. She clutched at her breast in mock panic and asked, ‘Have you found out I’ve been embezzling muffins?’

  Trudy smiled.

  Charlotte didn’t allow any humour to show in her features. She gestured for Daryl to take a seat next to Trudy before she began.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Daryl asked again. ‘You guys are genuinely scaring me here. Has something happened?’

  She sounded nervous and Trudy felt guilty for causing her such unnecessary consternation. She watched as Daryl nervously fumbled with the tablet on her lap and switched her gaze back and forth between Trudy and Charlotte.

  ‘Would one of you please speak?’ Daryl insisted. ‘I’m getting worried.’
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  ‘Trudy wants you to work as her PA,’ Charlotte explained. ‘I don’t think Sweet Temptation can spare you. What do you think we should be doing?’

  Daryl seemed to swoon in her seat.

  ‘Thank God it’s only that,’ she mumbled. ‘I thought it was something serious.’

  ‘It is serious.’ Trudy and Charlotte said the words in unison.

  ‘I need you working as my PA,’ Trudy insisted.

  ‘And I need you working here at Sweet Temptation,’ Charlotte told her.

  Again, Daryl switched her gaze from one to the other as she considered this. Her posture was relaxed, as though this was nothing like as bad as she had feared. She glanced at Charlotte and said, ‘If you really wanted to keep me you’d have made me a cup of tea when I came in here.’

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘No,’ Daryl admitted. ‘But it’s the thought that counts.’

  Exasperated, Charlotte looked away.

  Daryl glanced slyly at Trudy and asked, ‘How many days a week would you want me?’

  ‘Three. Maybe four.’

  ‘What’s the money like?’

  ‘It’s as good as you’re getting now.’

  Daryl sniffed. ‘The money I’m getting now is not that good. If I was to show any interest in this position I’d hope to see some sort of financial improvement.’

  ‘OK,’ Trudy allowed, ‘I’ll pay more.’

  Daryl glanced at Charlotte. ‘Boss,’ she began. ‘Is there any chance of my getting a raise? I’ve just been offered a lot more money from someone who wants me as her PA. Is there a cash incentive for my loyalty to Sweet Temptation?’

  Charlotte sipped at her tea. ‘I’ll match whatever Trudy offers you.’

  ‘Golden,’ Daryl grinned. She winked at Charlotte and then asked Trudy, ‘What would my new boss be like?’

  ‘She’d be the best boss you’ve ever had,’ Trudy grinned.