by JB Brooks
He gently pulled me up and turned me into his arms, holding me against him, the warmth of his chest startling, even through his shirt, after the cold surface that I’d been bent over for so long. Under his suit pants his arousal was steely hard, pressing against my belly.
He released me when I finally stopped shaking. The butt plug was a dull ache in my anus.
“Are you going to take it out?” I asked, my voice husky and uncertain.
“I don’t think so, Jane. Not yet. When I take it out, that lube that I squirted up your ass is going to come running out. You’ll have no control over it. It’s not very much, but we don’t have anything to clean you up with here.”
I must have looked as shocked as I felt. He grinned at me wickedly.
“You’re going to drive home with the plug in, Jane,” he said. “I’ll follow you straight to your house. We’ll have a shower and I’ll unplug you.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “But… But… It’s sore,” I eventually blurted, not knowing how to verbalize all my protests.
“Badly sore?”
“Well, no, not badly. More like a tender throbbing.”
“Then I suggest you dress quickly. The sooner we get home, the sooner it’ll come out.”
I scrambled around the office awkwardly, pulling on my clothes, disconcerted by the feeling of the plug in my ass and his hot eyes on my body. I was keenly aware that he hadn’t come—and hadn’t removed so much as his tie—and I suspected that he wasn’t done with me yet. Despite the huge orgasm I’d just had, I recognized the early stirrings of my reviving libido. Where he was concerned, I was insatiable.
We cleaned up. He picked up his notebook and I retrieved my handbag from my office, and we turned off the lights. As we waited for the elevator, he pulled me to him again, whispering in my ear.
“I love knowing that you’ve got that plug in your ass, Jane, and that I put it there. I’ll be thinking about it all the way home.”
By the time I pulled into my driveway, my ass was throbbing and my pussy was soaked anew. Luckily there was no traffic at this late hour and the trip had been mercifully quick, but I’d felt every bump in the road that had jostled the plug.
Matt pulled in behind me and we walked to my front door, his big hand possessively fondling my rear. We headed straight to the bedroom and he began stripping off his suit. I watched with avid eyes as he shed the jacket and tie, tossing them on the bed impatiently. He removed his cufflinks and cast them on the bedside table before unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his muscular chest. Then he pulled the shirt out of the waistband of his trousers and peeled it down his arms, revealing the stygian tattoos that I found so fascinating and irresistible. His size and potency were the most powerful of aphrodisiacs to me. He toed off his shoes and peeled off his socks with a neat economy of movement. Straightening, he undid his belt, unzipped and shed his pants.
He saw me watching, unmoving, and smiled, standing before me in his dark-gray boxers and golden skin, his erection straining against the soft fabric. He was everything masculine and virile, and every imperious line of his body declared his strength and dominance. Everything that was female in me responded, submitting to his inevitable possession in a covenant as basic and ancient as the act of sex itself. I was shaken to my core.
“Lose the clothes, Jane. I’ll get the shower ready.” He disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me panting.
One day you’ll be naked, and I’ll be the one in the suit.
The thought popped into my head and I smiled. I had no idea how it could ever happen, but it was a delicious fantasy.
I took off my clothes and bundled them into the laundry hamper, hearing the shower starting. Before going into the bathroom, I paused in front of the mirrors on my closet doors. I turned and looked over my shoulder, leaning forward and spreading my butt cheeks with both hands. I studied the black base of the butt plug, nestled flush against my flesh, hiding the secret of the bulbous head buried deep in my ass.
When I came into the bathroom Matt was already in the shower. He was washing his hair, scrubbing vigorously at his scalp with his eyes closed as water and shampoo bubbles ran over the smooth skin of his torso. His engorged penis protruded from the river of soapy water that streamed over his belly and down his legs.
“Get in here, Jane,” he said, without opening his eyes.
I opened the door and stepped into a sensuous world of steam and warmth. I brushed up against him, closing us into the little space together. His massive arms immediately wrapped around me, and he pulled me under the spray and began kissing me. I gave my mouth over to him and closed my eyes as the warm water ran over my face. He explored, gently but thoroughly, his potent taste flooding my senses. He ran his hands over my body and cupped my ass, cradling me against his erection. Parting my ass cheeks slightly, he wiggled the butt plug and turned it gently, and I moaned, enthralled by the exquisite sensation.
He pulled away, but before I could object he squirted shower gel into his palms and began to wash me, leaving no part of my body untouched. He caressed my slippery breasts, squeezing and massaging them, then bent to ravish my nipples with his mouth, bowing me backward over his supporting arm so that they jutted up to meet his lips. He knelt to wash my legs and feet. Pulling me toward him, he delved his clever tongue into my slit, finding a wetness that was not from the shower. As he lapped at my clit with a guttural sound of pleasure, he rotated the butt plug, causing me to buck my hips and grind my pussy against his face. He growled.
“Oh Jane. When will you learn to keep still?”
I pulled at his hair, urging his mouth back to my cunt, but he stood up.
“Your turn, Jane. Wash me then suck me off. I want to come in your mouth, baby.”
I didn’t hesitate. Soaping his body was such a pleasure. I always longed to touch him, but given his propensity for restraining me, I seldom got the chance. I reveled in this opportunity to explore his body, trailing my fingertips and lips over his slick skin, while he fingered me intimately. Soon I was kneeling before him as he had done for me, to wash his well-formed feet and legs. When I slipped my soapy fingers between the cheeks of his ass he laughed breathlessly and caught my wrists.
“Not tonight, Jane. I’m having a hard time not fucking you properly as it is. If you get naughty, I won’t be able to help myself. Now suck me, baby.”
He twisted his fingers into my wet hair, but I held him off long enough to soap up his cock and balls, torturing him with my hands until his hips were jerking uncontrollably and his head was flung back. When his hold on my hair tightened I took him into my mouth, laving my tongue over him and savoring his now-familiar taste.
“Christ, Jane, that looks so hot. The water spraying all over your face, and your lips wrapped around my cock. I’ve got to teach you how to deep-throat, baby—I want to come halfway down your neck. But for now suck me off like I taught you.”
I made a tight ring around the base of his cock with my thumb and forefinger and worked it up and down, hard, while I sucked the head and rasped my tongue over the underside of his glans. He didn’t last long. When his hips started to thrust in short, urgent jerks, I wrapped my lips over my teeth and bit down on him, sucking as hard as I could. “Oh fuck, I’m coming,” he shouted as hot semen flooded my mouth. I swallowed some, and some dribbled out the sides as I continued to suck him more gently while he finished. His fingers softened in my hair and his eyes were shut.
“God, Jane. You’re getting very good very quickly. I wanted it to last.” I smiled to myself, enjoying a feminine satisfaction at having briefly stolen control of his powerful body.
He leaned against the glass wall for a few moments, struggling to get his breathing under control. I took advantage of his momentary debility and slid myself up his slick body as I got to my feet. I leaned against him, my breasts tingling against his sleek skin.
“Let’s see about your plug, Jane. Spread your legs.”
Yes, my ass was aching for attention. I parted
my feet as wide as I could within the glass confines of the shower. He reached round with one hand and gently tugged at the base. The plug didn’t move much, although I groaned at the strange pulling sensation. With his other hand, he reached for my pussy from the front, gliding his fingers into my unresisting, silky moisture.
“God, you’re wet, Jane. Everything just slips inside you.” To illustrate, he slid two fingers deep into my cunt then alternated them in and out in a rapid beckoning motion, sliding them over an exquisitely sensitive patch in my channel.
“Mmm, that’s your G-spot, Jane,” he murmured close to my ear. “If I keep doing this, you’ll come. Should I stop?”
I shook my head.
“Answer me, Jane. Tell me what you want.”
“Please don’t stop, Matt. I really want to come.” My voice was a husky, pleading whisper. He took pity on me and moved his fingers a phase faster, toying with my butt plug with the other hand, turning and wiggling it.
I strained against his hand, struggling to reach orgasm without stimulation to my clit, but his fingers were relentless, and suddenly it broke over me, deep and intense. When he felt my inner muscles contract, Matt pulled out the butt plug in a single smooth motion. The sensation of it unexpectedly leaving my body, pulling my rectum outward from within, triggered a second profound climax. He caught me against his body as I fell, and held me close as I cried out in pain and ecstasy.
Much later he led me out of the shower and wrapped me in soft towels. Wearing nothing but a towel around his hips, he sat me down at my dressing table and patiently brushed out my tangled hair as I fought off sleep. He blow-dried it for me without using a brush, just running his fingers through the strands, a soothing and hypnotic sensation. When he was done, he unwrapped me from the damp towels and put me to bed.
“Stay with me?”
“Not tonight, Jane. I still have some things to do. I’ll lock up on my way out. Now go to sleep—tomorrow is a big day.”
I lay still under the quilt and listened to him moving around my bedroom, getting dressed, until I fell asleep.
Chapter Six
Saturday
No alarm was set. When I woke the sun was streaming through the open curtains of my bedroom window and I knew it was much later than my usual wake-up time. I stretched luxuriously, feeling wonderfully rested and completely relaxed. Then suddenly, with increased wakefulness, adrenaline slammed into me and shocked me rudely into full awareness.
I was naked. It was late. It was Saturday.
I lunged for the clock on my bedside table. Half past ten.
Half past ten!
Oh no! I had so much to do!
I paused and stared. On my bedside table was a note—a sheet of printer paper folded in half. On top of it, brazenly posing as a paperweight, stood the butt plug.
I had to laugh, but I grabbed it and shoved it into the back of my bedside drawer. Sometimes my mother popped in to visit on Saturday afternoons, on the way home from her pottery class. We often ended up sitting on my bed, drinking coffee and chatting. I had no idea if she’d know what a butt plug was, but I didn’t want to find out!
I picked up the folded sheet of paper with a twinge of apprehension, remembering his last letter to me and the erotic instructions it had contained. And the enthusiasm with which I’d followed them.
This letter was handwritten in slanting, slightly untidy cursive.
Dear Jane,
I’ll pick you up at 18h30. I suggest you have an afternoon nap—it’s going to be a busy evening.
I’ll be out most of the day today. If you would like to come over and snoop, you are welcome. You have the key. The alarm code is 19260421. Check the kitchen counter.
Matt
I read it twice, perplexed by the second part. Did he want me to go snooping in his house? Was it snooping if you were given permission and the alarm code? Would he punish me again if I did?
Yeah, and that was so awful—god forbid he does it again!
I grinned, my mind made up. It took less than ten minutes for me to clean my teeth, scrape my hair back into a ponytail and drag on an old t-shirt and some track pants. I pressed my glasses onto my nose defiantly and haphazardly straightened out the quilt and pillows on the bed. Slipping on a pair of thong sandals, I headed next door.
His Jeep wasn’t in the driveway, but I knocked first and called his name anyway. There was no answer, so I opened the door and keyed in his code on the beeping alarm panel with shaky hands, hoping I wouldn’t make a mistake. The beeping stopped. Silence filled the house.
I wandered slowly through the lounge and dining area, noticing again how empty the place seemed when he wasn’t there. There was very little personal stuff around—no photos or art, no ornaments, no books on bookcases. The new furniture was good quality but characterless. The whole effect reminded me that he was only renting the place for three months. Perhaps he couldn’t be bothered to stamp the marks of his personality onto it. My own furniture was mostly secondhand, but my house was cluttered with things I loved, and books and potted plants competed for space on my shelves. I wondered what he thought of my world.
I headed down the hall and stopped when I saw that the study door was wide open. The big desk was still there, but the strange computers with giant displays were gone, and there was no sign of all the cables. His slim notebook sat alone on the desk, dwarfed by the wide expanse of workspace around it. How very strange.
I continued to his bedroom, taking full advantage of my sanctioned snooping opportunity. His bed was immaculately made and I saw that he’d put clean sheets on it since Thursday.
On impulse I opened his bedside drawer. There, neatly arranged in clear zipper bags, were my dildos and vibrator. The speculum was there too, and several tubes of lube. My cunt twitched. I pulled the drawer open wider.
Jackpot!
There were the other butt plugs that he’d mentioned—one smaller than mine, and three larger. I picked up the biggest one.
You must be joking. That is not happening.
I put it down and rummaged deeper into the drawer. There was a pack of disposable syringes. I knew what he liked to use those for, and I liked it too. The tingle in my pussy intensified.
I pulled out some more packages. High-grade silicone anal beads—two packs. A long, dual-sided, flexible vibrator, for simultaneous vaginal and anal stimulation. Nipple clamps. A massive dildo as thick as my wrist, with a suction cup at the base. A thing that looked like a ball on a stick, called The Love Lollipop.
Wonder where that goes…
At the back of the drawer was another speculum, much bigger and more complicated looking, with several screws and levers, not something that you could put in yourself. There was also a strange metal hook-shaped thing, quite large, with a round ball instead of a sharp point and a loop on the other end. It was in an unlabeled zipper bag, and I had no clue what it was.
I sat on the bed and looked at the amazing stash. My pussy was throbbing and creaming. There was something particularly wicked and arousing about knowing that he had plans for me.
Oh he is so bad.
He wants to do things to you.
I took my little vibrator out of its bag. Did I dare to use it here, on his bed? Turning it on, I lay back on the bed and slipped it under the elastic waistband of my track pants, pressing it to my aching clit. I slid an exploratory finger into my slit and found heat, and thick, sticky cream.
It didn’t even take a minute for me to come with that perfect vibration, quick and intense, followed by blessed relief. I wiped the vibrator on the inside of my pants then slid it into my pocket. I was taking it home with me, and if he noticed, and realized that I’d found his little stash of sex toys, then so be it.
Yeah, a girl has needs.
I packed everything back into the drawer, smoothed the quilt where it bore the imprint of my body and headed to the kitchen. His note had said to check the counter.
The sun streaming in the kitchen window fell on a b
lack velvet box. On top of it lay a red rosebud.
For a second I froze. Even my heart stopped beating, then my pulse started to race and I crossed over to the counter on legs that were suddenly wobbly.
There was a little card under the rose. I picked up the thick, textured paper and looked at the four words written in his slanting script.
Wear it
Be mine
Question, command or statement?
We need to chat about punctuation!
I opened the box, my breathing loud and shallow in my own ears. Lying flat on the black velvet inside, twinkling in the sun, was a platinum and diamond cuff-style bracelet. I stared in amazement at the six rows of sparkling stones that marched the entire length of the cuff. The clasp was a clever three-pronged catch that would be invisible when the bracelet was done up. It was utterly beautiful.
But could I accept it? Maybe it was costume jewelry. Or cubic zirconia.
Or maybe not.
There was no name on the box, no clue where it came from. Was it a gift, a bribe, a payment? Maybe it was a loan, for tonight. Yes, that made perfect sense—his note said “wear it”, not “take it” or “accept it”. I was comfortable enough with borrowing it for this special night, and thrilled at the prospect of wearing it, so I replaced it on its bed of velvet and took the box and the rose with me.
It was midday when I got back to my house. Only six and a half hours to go before he picked me up. I had lunch, which was also my breakfast, then spent the next three-and-a-half hours exfoliating my body, showering, doing my nails and trying to blow-dry my hair like the woman at the hairdresser had shown me.
At four o’clock my mother phoned me to say that she wasn’t popping in to visit. She also had plans for later. I was quite relieved, because my mind was filled with thoughts of Matt and anticipation of the events ahead. She would have sensed my distraction and wanted to know what was going on.
