A Dark Beginning: A China Dark Novel (11 page)

The next day she could hardly wait to get to the café. She wanted Mark again. That morning she had dressed especially for the occasion. This time her knickers and bra matched, Chocolate and pink Victoria’s Secret. Very delicate, very lacy and just the right level of revealing. Her other clothes were shamelessly chosen for ease of removal. She didn’t want to waste any time so they could make the most of their all too short lunchtime.

Mark was there before she even arrived and, much to Devak’s obvious disgust, she didn’t even stop for a coffee. As soon as she arrived she grabbed Mark’s hand and led him off to his flat.

This time when she straddled him she kept her underwear on and Mark seemed very appreciative. He still didn’t last long before he erupted inside her, coming before she had the chance to, but that was just fine by China. She liked that he was unable to resist her, couldn’t control himself once her body had taken charge of his. As he slumped, dropping out of her, she leant back and thought for a bit.

“And what about me?” she asked.

“I’m sorry. You’re just too damned good.”

“Fair enough. A woman shouldn’t complain about that. But the fact remains that I am left feeling somewhat unsatisfied.”

“What can I do about that? Anything you want.”

“Well I do believe that one option is now closed to us, at least for a while,” she said, looking down at his flaccid member, resting damply on his thigh. “But I have an idea.”

“Anything,” he said.

“That’s the right answer.” She shuffled up his body, leaving a smear of his own fluids glistening on his stomach and chest. She placed her feet under his armpits and knees above his head, and lowered herself onto his face. At first he seemed to shy away from the mess that was dripping from her. “You said anything. Now make good on that promise.”

At first the lips meeting hers were tentative. She felt a feather light touch down there that almost sent her to oblivion and then she felt the insistent press of his tongue. She settled lower, carefully controlling her bodies reaction. His nose was nestled in her pubic hair and she could hear him snuffling for breath. She wriggled a little to give him room to breath, and to give his tongue easier access to her hungry pussy. He kissed it like he had kissed her mouth earlier, exploring her with his tongue, lapping at her spread pussy. It was only gaping because he had stretched it so much with his huge cock, so he only had himself to blame when she felt more of his semen slipping out of her and into his mouth. She felt like a queen sitting on her throne, with her loyal subject carrying out her every whim. He continued to lap hungrily at her and she felt his teeth graze against her clitoris as he pushed his mouth harder against her to curl his tongue deeper into her glistening cavern.

Now she did come, shaking as she doubled up over him, her knees gripping the side of his head, her fingers digging into his scalp. There was nowhere to escape that probing tongue, not in that position, and not without lifting off of him and she didn’t want to do that. She wanted the quivering, unstoppable waves of climax to go on forever. She needed her slave to be pleasing her beyond her own limits. Eventually she really could take no more, every touch of his making her shiver violently and cry out. She fell off to the side and pressed her thighs together, relishing the soaked feeling between her legs. She looked at Mark and his eyes were shut, his mouth smeared with their combined juices. She knew she’d never seen anything more erotic in her life.

As she lay there, gazing at this beautiful man, she savoured the moments they had just shared. What surprised her most was the completely new experience of taking charge during sex. In her previous encounters, both with her husband and ex-boyfriends before her marriage, she had always been the passive partner. This was how she’d been brought up. Her Catholic heritage had instilled in her a sense that the woman shouldn’t really enjoy this activity too much. Sex was fine, but not something to be explored or enjoyed. It was a simple case of the man pumping his seed inside the woman. Both parties, as long as they were married, enjoyed the activity, you fucked and then you moved on. China taking control and sitting on a man’s face and making him tongue her to orgasm would never have occurred to her before. She had seen such activity of course. Philip enjoyed pornography as much as any man, but when she had watched this in the past it seemed disconnected from her vision of reality. A visual treat for her husband but without any connection to normality or her own desires. While pornography sometimes got her in the mood for sex, it wasn’t anything to do with the images displayed so graphically on the computer screen, but more to do with a general sexual tension that those images would provoke in her husband. Now she felt like a porn star, and rather than making her feel disgusted with herself or degraded she felt strangely liberated and potent.

All these thoughts fell into place as she lay there watching Mark drift into a satisfied sleep. His breathing had become deeper, almost a snore, and he had fallen asleep with her nectar glistening on his chin. This man had eaten his own come for her, after his own satisfaction had subsided, and you couldn’t get a much more powerful demonstration of sexual dedication than that.

The news on the television that evening was all about the local killings again. Whilst no new body had been found the police were now admitting what the journalists had been predicting previously. They were now convinced that the killings were related. The newsreader donned her serious face again, and her voice deepened to emphasise the gravity of the message. Police were warning women in the area to be extra vigilant, to not walk at night alone, and to stay in well-lit and crowded areas. The killings were not considered to be of a sexual nature, but there was an extremely high degree of violence involved. Whoever was doing this was an unstable individual. There were no details of the suspect yet, so women should be extra wary of strangers until the suspect was apprehended. The police were also asking for any suspicious activity to be reported to them without delay.

China and Philip watched the news together and she snuggled into him. She knew that her relationship with Mark was a risk, but this brought a whole new perspective to it. Luckily Mark was no killer, but when she first met him and carelessly accompanied him to his flat she hadn’t known that. She shivered as she entertained the thought of what might have happened if he had been the killer. It didn’t bear thinking about. Not only would she have lost her life, but also she couldn’t bear to imagine how Philip would have felt.

“You need to be so careful, love,” Philip said. “I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.” He looked into her eyes as he said this. He always seemed to be able to read her thoughts.

“You’re not going to lose me, Philip.”

“I know I have these silly fantasies that I keep bothering you with…”

“They’re not silly, Philip. If they please you then they’re not silly.”

“Ok, but I just want you to know that I wouldn’t want to put you in a situation where you were in any danger.” He looked so serious as he said this.

“What’s this all about Philip? Why would a couple of sessions of dirty talk put me in danger?”

Philip looked conflicted and then composed himself. “Look, just promise me you’ll always be very careful.”

“Of course I will, Philip,” she said, kissing him on the end of his nose, and then on his lips. “Come on,” she added. “That news has depressed me. I need cheering up.” She winked and nodded her head invitingly towards the stairs. He looked pleasantly surprised.

“Twice in one week,” he teased. “What have I done to deserve this?”

“I can always change my mind,” she warned jokingly. She had no intention of changing her mind. Her body was getting quite used to a regular workout. “So get upstairs, get undressed and be ready for me.” She laughed as he ran eagerly up the stairs scattering clothes as he went like in some comedy farce. She switched off the television and the lights and followed him up, picking up his discarded clothes. She had every intention of riding him until he might think twice about his wish for a more regular sex life.

In the days that followed Mark and China met on more weekday lunchtimes than they did not. She was running out of good excuses for being late back to work, and eventually gave up even supplying any. She did wonder to herself how long her boss would put up with her extended lunches, but he appeared to be doing just that for now.

The sex with Mark got even better as the liaisons progressed. She could not believe how many orgasms she was having now. From a couple a month to several in one day sometimes. Maybe it was being on top that did it, Mark always wanted her on top. And she was more than happy to oblige. She’d perfected the art of the light, post-coital wash. An activity that would rid her of the strongest smells that might betray her lunchtime activities, but without her smelling so strongly of soap that the cover-up would be obvious. It was a good job that Philip never went near the washing basket, as her knickers would have given the game away instantly.

Anyway, Philip was more than happy for the moment. For some reason, the lunchtime sessions did little to fully satiate her appetite, and she would often find herself treating her husband in the evening. When he did comment once on this increase in frequency he was easily discouraged from questioning further when she asked him if he would maybe rather go back to the old ways.

Although Philip had always been a considerate lover, there was always room for improvement. She now felt a new confidence that permitted her to guide Philip through the needs of her body. Mark seemed so much more experienced that Philip, despite being considerably younger, and when Mark managed to bring a new response from her body, she felt obliged to teach her husband what she had learnt about herself. A few well timed moans, a gasped ‘Yes’ as he did something right, and sometimes a little firm physical pressure to move his tongue, lips, finger or cock to the right spot, and then movement timed to encourage the correct rhythm. “You have to let a man know when his random, scattergun, fumbling attempts to please you are on the right track,” she was once told by a girl friend. “He'll never work it out unless you tell him.”

China found that the weekends were the most difficult. Her body had become so used to the regular multiple servicing, as she like to think of it, that the at-most once per day supply she could get from Philip on Saturdays and Sundays simply wasn’t enough. She feared she was turning into a nymphomaniac. She had heard of sex addiction but had thought that it was a condition that only applied to men. She had never thought that she might have to worry about herself falling into that same category. Surely addiction was only a problem if it was destructive, and so far she had only got pleasure from this dependence. She wondered if this was how alcoholics felt. The addiction was pure pleasure, she had to admit, and based upon a deep-seated need for validation and admiration that empowered her. And it was so much fun.

But the weekends were a struggle. On the rare occasions that Philip went out on his own at the weekend, China would often find herself needing to do something about her desires. She had been bought a vibrator as a secret-Santa joke present years ago, and had kept it hidden away from Philip in the bottom of a drawer on her side of the bed where she kept clean sheets. She knew Philip would never look in there. The vibrator, a long, thick, slick black column that was frankly rather alien and scary looking, had sat in its box until just recently. Now, when Philip was out, China would use the vibrator while she thought of Mark, not her husband. The vibrator was more reminiscent of Mark’s physical characteristics than Philip’s. Apart form the colour of course.

By this method China was able to make it through the weekends and keep herself and Philip very contented. Their marriage felt stronger than ever, and Philip was the happiest he had been in years, due in no small part to the amount of action he was now getting. He’d even stopped trying to encourage her to feed his pet fantasy. Which was ironic, she thought, given that now she had some actual material to work with.

One Monday lunchtime, as China and Mark sat naked and sweating on the edge of the bed after a particularly exhausting session China suddenly remembered the pictures he had taken of her, and asked Mark if she could see them.

“Oh yes. Of course. I’m sorry, I should have shown you earlier.”

“I was worried they were too rubbish to be seen.”

“Not at all. Here, let me show you.” Mark led her into the other room and retrieved his MacBook Pro and placed it on China’s lap, the sudden cold metal on her legs making her shiver, and opened its silver cover. He navigated to the Images folder and started a slideshow. China was amazed. He had made her look quite beautiful. The elegant black and white, the soft lighting, the contrast, all went into creating images she could indeed feel very proud of.

“I don’t scrub up too bad do I?”

“You’re stunning. In fact, these photos don’t do you justice.” She was getting used to his compliments but would never tire of them.

“You haven’t shown these to anyone else have you?” A brief moment of doubt entertained. He might sulk but she needed to know.

“I’m an artist and these images of my private muse are for my eyes only.” To her relief he took her question in good spirit.

“A good answer,” she replied, kissing him. Her eyes strayed to the large photo framed on the chimneybreast. “I wish I could pose like that though. Somehow she just hits all the right angles to make the perfect image. She is captivating.”

“You could do that easily. But she does have a distinct advantage.”

“What’s that?” she asked feeling strangely defensive and a hint of jealousy.

“She’s a professional dancer. Well, a pole dancer actually. So she is quite used to posing naked in front of people. She has a confidence I wouldn’t have expected from you anyway. And it’s your shyness and vulnerability that make those photos of you so enchanting.” She loved the way his words danced from his mouth when he complimented her.

“That’s ok. But now I’d like to be able to give you some images more like that.” She gestured towards the framed photo. She wanted Mark to capture her newfound confidence. He could chronicle her growth from insecurity to confidence. She wanted to show him that she could do anything that a pole dancer could do. “How do I learn to do that?”

“Well, I could take you to a lap dancing pub I know one evening, if you’d like that.”

She wasn’t sure if she did like the idea. But she was feeling more adventurous lately so she acquiesced. “Ok. My husband is out with his workmates this Thursday evening. Let’s go then. I presume it’s ok for women to go into these places?”

“It’s not unusual,” he said. “You won’t see women visitors in there every night, but sometimes people bring their wives, partners, girlfriends along.”

“That settles it then. Thursday evening. I’ll meet you in The Dog and Duck at seven thirty.”