Rich Promise (11 page)

“No gag this time and no restraints. You can lean over the table, or a chair—your choice. But you’ll hold still and be quiet. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“If you move before I give permission or make too much noise, you’ll get no orgasm tonight. And you’re not to come until I tell you to. Any questions?”

His voice is curt, his words clipped. No honeyed tones here, no romancing. I wouldn’t know what to do with such pleasantries if he offered them. He means business. He’s going to test my boundaries tonight, shove them back a bit, maybe a lot. I want that. I want this. I want him.

“No, Sir.” I meet his gaze squarely, my confidence a near tangible presence. Where did this self-assurance come from? And where will it lead me?

He steps to one side, gestures to the table and chairs.

“I think the table, Sir.”

Dan merely nods. He waits, arms folded, his hip perched on the corner of the table as I step forward and lean across it. The tawse is lying across his thighs, ready.

“Tell me when you’re ready. I intend to finger-fuck you first, to get you warmed up a little.”

“Your hands are cold, Sir.”

“Are you complaining, girl?”

“No, Sir. Just saying…” Despite his words, I smile quietly to myself as he rubs his hands together before standing to take his position behind me.

“Thank you for your consideration, Sir. I’m ready now.”

“You certainly look to be. Open your legs.”

I spread my thighs wide, arching my back daintily as he’s taught me. I’m a diligent student. I take pride in my performance, much as I now understand Dan does. Each of us plays our part, plays it to the hilt for the other’s pleasure.

Dan slides his fingers down the furrow between my buttocks, pausing briefly at my anus to circle the tight entrance. “Not here, not this time. Sweet though.” He continues, plunging his fingers deep into my pussy. Just two at first, angled to caress my G-spot. It feels divine. I rotate my hips in appreciation.

Dan’s palm connects with my backside, the slap sharp, reverberating around the room. “I’ll tell you when to move.”

“My apologies, Sir. It just feels so good.”

“Does it? And this?” He withdraws, only to sink his fingers deep again, three this time. He thrusts several times, hard and sharp, and each stroke accurately trained on my G-spot.

“Yes, yes, Sir.” I groan into the polished wood of the tabletop, clutching the far edge with my fingers.

“When you know you’re close to coming, you’re to tell me. I want you right at the brink before I stop.”

“Why stop, Sir? I mean… Ow!”

Another sharp slap lands on my bum.

“Enough. Next time you speak to me, it will be to ask me to stop because you’re about to come. Do
not
leave it too late.”

I know when to shut up. I lie still, loving the feel of his fingers inside me, caressing my inner walls, deliberately rubbing my G-spot, his thumb poised at the entrance to my anus. He presses lightly, eases just the tip of his thumb inside. I start—I thought he said…

“Your arse is too tempting. Concentrate, Summer. Tell me when.”

Seconds later I’m there. Or almost there. “Stop now, Sir.” I sob the words, torn between the need to obey, to submit my will to his, and the temptation to let him continue just that fraction longer, just enough to tip me over the edge. My submissive instincts, now so finely honed, win out.

Dan pulls his fingers from my cunt, smearing my moisture across the cheeks of my bum.

“So wet. And hot. Would you like me to fuck you, little slut?”

“Of course, Sir, always.” I’m gasping from the effort of suppressing my response, wishing he’d touch me again, just a little, anything would do. He could blow on me and I’d detonate.

But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. I’m to wait, he said so. I turn my head to face him. Dan straightens, reaches for the tawse.

“Ten strokes, five on each side. Then I’ll stop and check how you’re doing. If you’re still good, we’ll go again, another ten. I’ll check again, then ten more. You can stop me at any time with your safe word. Yes?”

“Yes, Sir. Thirty in total, is that right?”

“Maximum of thirty. Less if you safe word—or if I think you’ve had enough.” He pauses, then continues, his tone softer, “Don’t look so scared, little sub. I’m not out to hurt you. Relax into it, let your body take over. You’ll love this.”

I believe him. I smile, more or less, and close my eyes, try to relax

The first stroke is not at all what I’d been expecting. It’s almost a caress, a light brush of the leather against my skin.

“Was that…”

“That was number one.”

“Oh. Oh…”

Number two lands, just marginally harder. It stings, but only a little. Not painful, definitely nothing like the agony he delivered with his belt. I’m starting to see the difference, the world of difference, between a punishment beating and an arousing one—and the crucial importance of intent, coupled with the skill of the Dom wielding the strap. Dan lacks nothing in finesse, and I’m getting the benefit of that now.

The next two strokes are equally pleasurable. I’m flexing and stretching across the tabletop, waiting eagerly for each stripe. My bottom is blooming beautifully, the heat radiating through my buttocks. Dan increases the intensity just a little more for the next three strokes. I quiver delightfully, the tingles now shimmering through my entire body. Each time the tawse lands, the sensation is whipped up a little more, the delicious clenching in my pussy a sure sign that my body is responding, loving this.

Dan delivers two more strokes, harder still. It stings now, but exquisitely so. I shiver, groaning my pleasure.

The final stroke of the first set of ten is hard, but my body absorbs and relishes it. Dan drops the tawse onto the tabletop beside my face. He lays his palm against my smarting buttocks, massaging the hot, tender skin. I’m melting, my grip on the edge of the table all that’s preventing me from sliding to the floor, a puddle of liquid lust.

Dan leans over me to whisper in my ear. “How do you feel, Summer?” His voice is gentle.

I struggle to focus, to formulate a response. “I’m fine, good. I want to come. Please, Sir.”

He continues to caress my bottom, but makes no move to insert his fingers into my pussy, or reach for my throbbing clit. I’d do it myself, but he instructed me not to move. “Soon, I promise. You need to earn it first. Do you need a drink of water?”

I shake my head.

“Ten more then.” He stands, picks up the tawse once more.

The leather swings again, connects with my bottom. He’s ramping up the pressure now, just a little, just enough. This stings, but not unpleasantly. I gasp, cling onto the table for support. Dan swings again, and the leather bites into my skin. I groan, every nerve ending now shivering in anticipation.

“Sir, Sir…” I’m moaning against the cool wood of the tabletop, nor sure what I’m pleading for.

Dan knows. He lays the tawse against my arse again. And again. And again. I’ve lost count, no idea now how many more to go. I don’t care, he could continue to drop these exquisite biting strokes across my body for ever. I never want to move again. I lay still, absorbing further strokes, the intensity now finely balanced, that perfect place between pleasure and pain.

Dan stops, whispers to me again, “A drink?”

I shake my head, trying to concentrate on his words but losing it somewhere. I start to slide from the table but Dan’s hand in the small of my back prevents my tumble. “Hold on to the edge, love.”

“I can’t. Tie me. Please, Sir…”

“Okay.” Dan produces a length of—something—and quickly loops it around my wrists. He ties the end to the back of one of the chairs and shoves that up to the table.

It’s not especially secure, but gives me the support I need not to have to concentrate on remaining in place. I let the restraint take my weight, and settle back onto the tabletop. I’m conscious of the cool surface flattening my breasts. I’m totally relaxed, completely at ease.

Dan stands behind me, his hands caressing my bottom again. I’m wincing under his caress, my skin sore, but tingling, sparkling almost. He says nothing as he picks up the tawse for the final set.

I shiver uncontrollably as he lays the first stroke across my smarting buttocks. The next seems less severe, but I’m not quite sure. I feel odd, as though I may be floating, but at the same time I feel incredibly heavy, anchored. Dan continues, I think, though I’m losing touch with the reality of my surroundings. I’m aware of the hardness of the table, the comforting tug of the fabric looped around my wrists, the continuous shimmer of the tawse across my bottom. My pussy is spasming, I know I don’t have permission to come, but I no longer have the will to resist. But still, even an orgasm would require effort, purpose, focus, and I can lay claim to none of that. I just am.

I lie there, quite still, my only sound that of the air drifting in and out of my lungs. I’m drawing strength from the tawse, soaking it up, my body trembling as Dan lays one stroke after another across my arse. I drink it in, soaking the pleasure and pain up like a greedy sponge. Eventually I can’t feel it anymore—I’m definitely floating now, weightless, drifting between consciousness and sleep.

Gradually I become aware of my surroundings again. I can hear something. Someone. A voice, low, sexy, loved. Talking to me, using my name.

“Summer, I have you.”

I know. I love you.

“I love you too.” I give myself a mental shake, try to clear my head. Did I say the words out loud? I must have if he’s answering me.

My hands are free, I start to slide. Then I stop, my wrists held again, a weight at my back. My bottom is sore, something rubbing my skin. I love it, wriggle my hips.

A low chuckle. “Can’t wait? I prefer my sluts to be fully conscious when I fuck them. Come back to me, Summer.”

Back? I’m here. Been nowhere. Going nowhere.

“Always arguing. Mouthy little sub. But I think you’ll do.”

I must have spoken my thoughts aloud again—could become a dangerous habit. He shifts, a flick of his hips between my thighs, and his cock is at the entrance to my pussy.

Please. Please. Please.

He thrusts, and his cock sinks into my waiting cunt. I let out a long, grateful moan and grip him fiercely, unable to keep my hips still now, no matter what dire retribution he threatens. Dan seems not to object though, and drives his cock deeper into me. He withdraws, to plunge back hard. I lift my bottom up, spreading my thighs wider, silently begging him. He knows and pushes my wrists together to take both of them in one of his hands. His other hand, now free, reaches under and round to stroke my clit. It’s all I need, everything I ever wanted, all my most beautiful experiences rolled into one. And just recently, I’ve had a few.

My orgasm is swift, powerful, punching its way up from my core and radiating outwards. My body, still boneless from whatever strange place he sent me to just a few minutes ago is now coiled tight, waves of pleasure exploding through me. I’m panting, my pussy spasming hard and wild around his cock as he continues to thrust, his body slapping against mine. My sore buttocks take the brunt of it, the sensation intensified by the memory of the fabulous episode with the tawse.

It slows, passes, my body collapsing onto the table as the tension leaves my muscles. I’m shattered, but I feel intensely alive, exhausted, exhilarated, exalted.

And we’re not done yet. Dan slows his thrusts as my release subsides, now fucking me with long, slow, leisurely strokes. He leans forward, his lips beside my ear.

“Are you having fun, my slut?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You want more?”

“Yes, more, Sir.” I squeeze and gyrate my hips to punctuate my point.

“Hard and fast? Or slow, like this? Do you prefer gentle fucking or do you like it a bit rougher?”

I writhe under him, and seriously consider purring. “Not rough, not now. Make love to me, Sir.”

Dan trails the backs of his knuckles down my cheek, the gesture both tender and sensual. “Ah, that. I think I can manage that. But we need a change of position for lovemaking.”

He withdraws his cock, but before I can protest, he’s scooped me up and he’s striding through the room to lay me on the sofa, on my back this time. My smarting bottom is pressed against the soft leather, but it’s pleasantly painful, a legacy of a deeply erotic moment, and I’m still buzzing from it.

Dan kneels on the floor in front of me, parts my thighs with his hands. He dips his head to take my clit between his lips, sucking gently.

My hands are in his hair, my fingers gripping him tight. “Oh, Sir, Sir, Sir…” I throw my head back against the cushion behind me, my eyes tight closed as the new sensations wash though my body.

Dan grazes my clit with his teeth as I shiver and thrust under him. He makes no attempt to still my movements now, allowing me to wriggle and squirm and press my cunt against his mouth.

His tongue laps and teases, his lips closing around my clit to tug and nibble. He uses his thumbs to open my pussy then thrusts his tongue inside. He tongue-fucks me slowly at first, then picks up the pace as my arousal builds.

My voice is a whisper as I urge him on, “Sir, more please. That’s good, so good. I love you, Sir.”

Then I’m flying again, swept up and over some invisible cliff face to freefall into blissful nothingness. I’m spinning, my body convulsing, bucking on the sofa. As my orgasm recedes Dan kneels up, and makes short work of undressing. Most of that he manages one-handed as his fingers are sinking into my cunt again, a sweet, undemanding presence which I can grip and hang onto as he prepares himself. In moments he’s leaning over me, his cock solid and broad at my entrance. He enters me smoothly, not fast and hard as before but slowly, as though savoring each inch. I wrap my legs around his waist and clutch at his shoulders as he turns us both so we now lie lengthways along the sofa. He takes his weight on his elbows as he looks down at me.

“I love you too, little subbie girl.” He leans in to kiss me, his tongue now fucking my mouth as he used it to fuck my pussy moments before.