Fifty Days of Sin (16 page)

“Adam,” I moan at last in a
half-whisper. “Oh, Adam, please.”

He looks up at me. “Please,
what?”

“Please, let me come.”

“Are you begging me,
Justine?”

I shut my eyes and sigh. “Yes,
Adam,” I groan, “I’m begging you. Please, will you make me
come?”

He smiles a wicked little smile
and very deliberately brushes his finger against my clitoris again,
briefly and teasingly. “I think you’ve forgotten how to address me
respectfully, Justine.”

God give me strength. “Please,
sir.”

“Good girl. Now do you wish you
hadn’t teased me like that earlier?”

“I didn’t realise you’d be
looking to get your own back,” I reply with a frown.

He smiles, relishing the control
he has over me. “Now all you have to do,” he says, touching me
again momentarily, between my legs, making me shiver, “is put all
of the words together.”

“Please, sir, will you let me
come? I’m begging you, I really am. Please. Sir.”

“Well, as you asked me so
nicely,” he grins. And then he kisses my mouth, a sensuous, deep
kiss. He’s fully erect again now and I can tell how aroused he is
from the urgency of his tongue probing inside my mouth. Then he
lets his tongue travel down my body again, and this time, he
doesn’t move to one side to lick down the side of my hip. Then I
feel the wetness of his tongue on my sex again, and when he moves
to lick my clitoris, this time he doesn’t take it away.

I push my hips up as far as I
can to meet him as he alternates between light, teasing licks and
greater pressure, still making me wait as he controls my path
towards orgasm, making my pleasure build and then abate again. Then
at last, as I edge inexorably towards orgasm and I feel him slide
his finger inside me underneath where he’s licking me, I feel the
forceful pressure of his tongue and I climb higher and higher to
the peak of sensation, and then I’m coming, coming hard and long
under his tongue and then shuddering with the force of it.

My eyes are still shut and I’m
still panting, trying to recover, as dimly in the back of my mind I
hear the rip of a foil packet and all at once he’s back inside me,
pushing hard into my wet centre, piercing me with his hard thrusts,
and as he slams into me and kneads my breasts, I look up at him,
his beautiful face dark and sensual, his defences down as he
quickly builds towards climax and then groans as he comes, finding
his release inside me.

“Oh, Adam, please untie me now,
I want to hold you,” I whisper and he quickly releases first my
arms and then my legs. Then we climb under the duvet, and lie in
the bed, arms wrapped around each other, tired and sated.

“I was impressed,” he murmurs.
“Hardly any noise at all.”

“I was just terrified of waking
my parents,” I tell him, giving him a little slap.

“Watch what you’re doing,” he
warns. “You’ve found out what I’m like when it comes to taking
revenge.”

“Sorry,” I apologise with a
smile. “Sir,” I add for good measure.

“You’re learning.”

“I’m just being cautious. I
really don’t want you taking any revenge tomorrow morning when my
parents are up and about.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll behave
tomorrow. I promise.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and
drift off to sleep.

Tuesday, 29 May

THE AIR IS UNUSUALLY CALM AND
STILL. The leaves on the trees don’t even stir. It’s warm, even for
May, and I head out of the restaurant hand-in-hand with Adam to
walk back to his car.

I love the touch of his skin on
mine, and we’ve had a delicious meal. I’ve also had three glasses
of wine, probably a little more than I ought to drink on a week
night, and the warmth and intoxication of the alcohol has suffused
through me.

A familiar excitement is
building inside me as I wonder what Adam has planned for me when we
get back to his place.

That’s when I spot the dark
green V-reg Volkswagen Golf. I feel a shiver as if someone has
dropped ice down the back of my top.

I know that car. I know who it
belongs to. And then I see its owner walking towards me.
Michael.

“Justine,” he calls out. I feel
Adam’s hand grip mine tighter and he looks at me.

I stop walking. I don’t want to
get any closer to my ex.

“Michael, will you give it a
rest? Go home,” I tell him.

He looks at me, blue eyes boring
into mine with an expression of deep resentment.

“I have to talk to you,” says
Michael imploringly. “Please...”

Then I hear Adam’s voice. “I
don’t know who you are,” he starts, “but Justine doesn’t want to
talk to you. So you’d better just fuck off home. Okay?” He steps
forwards, his body braced for conflict.

“Adam, it’s all right,” I sigh.
“Michael, you just need to forget about me. I’m sorry if I hurt
you, I didn’t mean to, but it’s all over now. Go home. Please.”

Michael stares hard at me and
for a moment I feel a flicker of fear, glad that Adam is here to
protect me. I see him glance at Adam and back at me, then he turns
and walks to his car, getting in and slamming the door.

He just sits there, resting his
head on the steering wheel. “Come on, let’s get home,” urges Adam.
“Your ex, I gather.”

“Yes. Don’t worry, he’s
harmless. He’s just a boy really. He’ll be all right in a while.
I’m surprised he’s taking so long to get over me.”

Adam just looks at me and
doesn’t say anything. We reach his Mercedes and climb in.

“Really,” I reiterate, putting
my hand on Adam’s thigh. “I’m sure I can handle Michael. You don’t
need to worry about him.”

“Has he done this before?”

“He’s sent me a couple of texts
asking to meet up. And he waited for me one time when I got back
from work. But I asked him to go and he just left. I’m sure he’ll
give up soon enough, Adam.”

“He lives in Oxford then?”

“Yes, in Jericho. He’s studying
English Literature here.”

“I don’t like it,” he responds,
turning on the engine and then we’re on our way back to his place.
The comfortable, happy atmosphere between us when we left the
restaurant has disappeared and we drive home in silence.

******

“HAVE A DRINK, ADAM,” I URGE
him, pouring him a glass of wine. “Forget about Michael. Don’t let
him spoil our evening.”

“You’re right.” He picks up his
glass and takes a sip, and sits down with me at his kitchen
table.

I deliberately change the
subject, asking him about work. He chats about a problem client
he’s having to deal with, and then mentions Matt, Kathy’s little
brother.

“So do you work with Matt a lot
then?” I ask, interested.

“Yes, and I’ve seen more of him
outside of work since you asked me to come and meet him with his
sister and Simon. You know the drinks I went to last week? I spent
most of the time talking to Matt. He’s a nice lad.”

“He seems to think highly of
you,” I tell him, remembering Matt’s whispered confidences about
Adam’s position and job prospects at Grantham and James.

He laughs. “What did he tell
you?”

I decide to be honest. “He
seemed to think you’d be a multi-millionaire by the time you’re
thirty,” I confide. “He was enthusing about how quickly you’d risen
to the top and saying you were tipped to be the youngest partner
ever.”

“Well, there are two partners
due to retire in my department within the next three or four of
years, and someone needs to fill their shoes. So on paper, it’s
possible. And I’ve been at director level for two years now, so I’m
senior enough to progress further upwards.” He has another sip of
wine. “I’m not sure about being a multi-millionaire though. I don’t
know what the most junior partners are on, to be honest, but I
don’t think it’s all that much of a significant step up from my
current earnings package.”

“You seem to be doing okay
already, though,” I tell him, looking around at the immaculate,
spacious kitchen. “By the looks of this place, and your car.” Then
I stop. “Sorry, it’s none of my business. I’m not fishing for
information, really. You don’t have to tell me about any of
this.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind talking
about it. Anyway, yes, you’re right. I’m doing okay. I feel very
lucky to be earning what I’m earning at my age. My father never got
to this level after forty-odd years of hard work.”

“At least you’re someone who
appreciates their good fortune.”

“It’s not my only piece of good
fortune,” he says, reaching out to tenderly touch my cheek. I smile
into his eyes.

“And now,” he continues, “I’ve
got to decide what to do with you tonight.” I catch my breath at
the promise in his words.

He stands up and moves over to
the window, closing the blinds. “Strip for me, Justine,” he
commands. I’m holding my wine glass, so I take a last gulp to
bolster my courage and put it down. Then I kick off my shoes, take
off the sheer cream-coloured blouse I’m wearing and remove my
jeans, hanging the clothes on the back of a kitchen chair. He
doesn’t tell me to stop, so I reach around to my back and unhook my
white bra, removing it and placing it on top of the other clothes.
I’m down to my white lacy knickers, and I look into Adam’s eyes as
he watches me pull them down and off, standing naked in front of
him.

I’m turned on just by the
promise of what’s to come, and I note the flicker of amusement in
his face as he looks at my nipples and sees that they’re already
hard.

“Looking forward to this,
Justine?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come over here then. Kneel. And
suck me.”

I walk gingerly towards him and
kneel on the hard kitchen floor. I look up, completely subservient
before him, and see in his face how he’s relishing his control of
me. He unfastens his jeans and I put my hands in and pull out his
erection. I hold him in my hand and then quickly take the tip into
my mouth.

At once I start to suck hard,
moving up and down, with my hand still holding his shaft. I feel
the wetness of my saliva under my fingers coat his length and I
move and suck, deep and steady, and then I increase the pace,
knowing he needs a faster rhythm to achieve his climax. As I feel
him thicken in my mouth, I draw him deeper back into my throat,
speeding up further and sucking harder, and then with a deep thrust
into my throat I feel him comes with a groan, and I swallow,
drinking it all in. I look up into his face, confident that I’ve
passed the first test.

“
Thank you for
letting me make you come, sir,” I say, like the good little
submissive I’ve become.

“Did I tell you to make me
come?” he asks unexpectedly.

I rack my brain and my heart
sinks. “No, sir,” I realise.

“If I wanted to come in your
mouth I’d have told you. I only said ‘suck me’.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“So, I think you need to learn
to listen more carefully, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I’m going to teach you
now. Stand up.” I do as he bids, and watch, wondering what’s going
to happen, as he pulls up two straight-backed kitchen chairs and
stands them next to each other, about a foot apart. The he crosses
and delves into a drawer, pulling out kitchen scissors and a ball
of string.

“Kneel on the chairs for me now,
Justine,” he instructs. My eyes widen and for a moment I wonder
what he means. “One knee on each chair,” he explains. “You can put
your leg through the gap at the back of the chairs.”

I realise what he means now, and
I clamber awkwardly onto the chairs, trying my best to position my
knees how he’s told me, my heart hammering in my chest. He comes
over to me and adjusts my position, so that I’m kneeling up with
one leg on each seat and a gap underneath my naked parted legs. He
takes two pieces of string and ties my legs to both the chairs, and
then ties two more lengths around my arms, securing them to the
back of each chair.

And once again I’m helpless
before him.

It’s not the first time Adam’s
tied me up, so I’m not sure why, but in this position I feel
infinitely more vulnerable than ever before. Perhaps it’s because I
feel so precarious, balanced on these two chairs. I’m afraid that
whatever he might do to me could make them topple over onto the
floor. And it’s not just the string that’s keeping me in place; the
shape of the chairs means that I have to stay kneeling up, which is
already starting to make my knees feel sore. If I try to sit down
on my heels my bottom will make contact with the chair back and I
won’t be able to do it. Besides, I’m afraid of unbalancing the
chairs, so I want to stay as still as possible.

“Stay right where you are,” he
says with a grin. I scowl and roll my eyes at him – he knows
perfectly well that I can’t go anywhere – and he stops in his
tracks. “Did you make a face at me, Justine?”

I consider denying it, but
decide that he might be even less lenient if I try to defy him.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Good girl. I’m glad you
admitted your fault. I was considering doubling your punishment if
you’d denied it.” He pauses, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Only
twenty today then. But then he continues. “I’m going to be nice
instead. I’m only going to add ten.”

Then he leaves the room and I’m
left uncomfortably tethered to the chairs, tingling with nerves but
at the same time, as ever, I can feel how wet the anticipation is
making me.

Adam returns and I see that he’s
holding something new. Something he hasn’t used on me before.

“What do you think, Justine?
Looks good, doesn’t it?” he asks, showing it to me. “It’s a
paddle.”

I stare at it in a mixture of
fascination and horror. A foot long, made of thick black leather
with a sturdy handle, it looks capable of inflicting a serious
amount of pain. I swallow, and Adam moves around behind me where my
bare buttocks are in full view between the two chairs and easily
accessible for his blows.