Rich Tapestry (22 page)

He withdraws his fingers, but only enough to be able to cup my bottom. He massages the soft flesh of my bum, and I’m reminded of the spanking he intends to administer. Not that I care at this precise moment.

“Mmm, well that was rewarding. Roll over, love. My turn to be on top.” Spanking me is clearly not high on his agenda just now either.

Suitably obedient even so, I slide to my right. I roll onto my back then contentedly spread my thighs. He settles between them.

“My, my, your manners have improved.” He leans in to kiss me, a short, sweet caress. “Remember, if I hurt you, I want you to tell me. You’re small. This will be tight. But good, I promise.”

I close my eyes, my chin tilted in silent welcome. I’m expecting to feel his cock plunging into me, but that doesn’t happen. Not yet. The rustle of foil reminds me of our mutual responsibilities and I’m relieved that at least one of us has retained some sense. Seconds later, the condom safely installed, he reaches down to place the head of his cock between the lips of my pussy. I try to press against him, my hands now clasping his buttocks, urging him forwards. He’s not to be hurried, easing into me, achingly tender as my body stretches and re-shapes to accept him.

It
is
a tight fit. Very tight. I chew my lower lip, nervous as I reach what I’m sure must be my limit. He stops immediately. “Summer? How are you doing?”

Just the question is enough. I’m reassured, I feel totally safe. “I’m fine. It’s tight, that’s all.”

“It is, deliciously tight. God, you’re hot.”

“I think you might be too. Sir.”

“Smoking, darling.” And with that he presses home, sinking his full length into me. He stops, rocks slightly to ease the fit.

I squeeze around him, loving the sense of fullness. I grip his shoulders hard, my cheek pressed against the solid, angular planes of his chest. He nuzzles the top of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair.

“Okay so far?”

“Yes.” And, as an afterthought, “Thank you.”

“Thank me later. For now, could you hook your ankles together behind my back?”

I say nothing, just lift my legs to do as he’s said. His cock edges even farther into me, and I can’t contain a small squeak. It’s not pain but not yet pleasure. It’s more—surprise. Just when I think he can’t get any deeper, he finds the extra inch.

“We’ll go slow at first. I’m going to be very, very gentle with you.” He’s in no hurry to thrust, content it would seem to simply hold me and wait

“I’m not a virgin.” I sound almost indignant, though in reality I do appreciate his care.

“I know that. But you might as well be. You asked me for instructions just now, so I’m guessing you haven’t made a habit of this before.”

“I’m sorry.”
And will I be making a habit of it in future. I definitely could.

“Don’t be. I’m not. You’re mine, a blank canvas.”

I’m not sure what he means by that, but any thought of asking for further clarification evaporates as he at last starts to move. Slow and even, he withdraws his cock, right to the tip, before driving it deep inside me once more. He’s taking infinite care, as he promised he would, treating me like a rare and delicate work of art. I feel cherished, utterly precious, but not nearly as fragile as perhaps he thinks.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, Sir. It feels wonderful.” I open my eyes to find myself gazing into the velvety brown of his and on impulse, I reach up to brush my lips across his jaw.

He requires no further encouragement or confirmation that I’m okay and fully with him, and now he does start up a rhythm in earnest. Not fast, not in the least rough. But insistent, regular, engaging my senses as the friction builds. I arch, my pussy clenching now as the familiar sensations begin to take over. He slips a hand between us to again mold and shape my breast, circling my nipple with his fingertip before squeezing it sharply. It’s painful, almost, the sensation sitting in that place where pleasure and pain co-exist and are inter-changeable. I writhe, gasping as currents of electric energy shoot through me, connecting my nipples, my clit, my pussy. I moan, a soft sound of contentment, and this time he doesn’t check. He knows how I am. Every squeeze and shiver and tremble tells him, and he’s perfectly attuned to my responses. It’s uncanny, as though he’s reading my thoughts, but I don’t stop to question or analyze. At this moment, there’s only feeling, and I’m doing that in spades.

He increases the tempo, not by much, but enough. My body is humming, tingling, the pull and twist of orgasm starting, building, growing and blooming. He adjusts his angle slightly, and my G-spot is again in the mix, every stroke caressing that glorious place inside my pussy where all my nerve endings seem to meet.

“Open your eyes for me, Summer. Look at me while you come. I want to see it in your eyes.”

“What? What did you say?”

His nose nudges mine, gentle, insistent, his tone low but expecting to be obeyed. “Open your eyes, Summer. I want to see you come.”

I force my eyelids upwards, and I keep them open with effort. He smiles at me, his expression encouraging, approving. He’s pleased with me, and that matters. So much.

“Sir, I…?” My body arches involuntarily as another wave of fresh, delightful sensation ripples through my pussy. My legs tense around him and I’m using my heels now in a desperate attempt to urge the pace, demanding more, faster, harder. I’m stretching, reaching for my release. His cock is like a piston now, driving deep and true, each stroke whipping up the frenzy of my mounting, gathering climax. Suddenly, it’s there, and I’m flying. Soaring free. I cry out, digging my fingers into the flexing muscles of his shoulders, my head thrown back in delight. My whole body is in spasm, a kaleidoscope of riotous color exploding in my head. And my eyes never leave his. I see his pupils dilate in—what? In satisfaction perhaps, at my response. In pleasure as his own climax approaches? I know enough about submission now to appreciate that the Dom in him wants my orgasm, craves it, owns it. And I give it willingly, surrender it to him, whispering my submission as I mutter, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Moments after my orgasm, his cock jerks sharply and he plunges forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as the hot rush of his semen fills the condom. Then, he’s still. So am I. I’m panting, my heart thumping in my chest. He’s been the one doing the work, yet I feel I’ve just completed a marathon. Neither of us moves—neither of us speaks. The earth steadies on its axis again.

“You’re welcome, Miss Jones. Any time.” Dan is first to speak.

He withdraws from my body and removes the condom, knotting the end then dropping it onto the carpet before wrapping his arms around me. I go willingly, snuggling against his chest. I’m admiring the smooth planes and angles there, so different from my own shape despite my lack of lush curves. None of that seems to matter at this moment, though.

He kisses my hair, smoothing large circles across my back and bottom with his palm. “Oh, yes, Miss Jones. I should have certainly fucked you back then, at the club. Apart from the obvious attractions, it might have saved your sweet bum some discomfort. Still, that unpleasantness will soon be done with. And you’ll benefit from the learning experience.”

Even ten minutes ago, I might have tried to convince him that we should skip the discipline, that I was already truly sorry. Not now, though. In that moment when I stared into his eyes as I came, the naked trust, honesty, intimacy of that moment, I became his. Ready to accept, to welcome, to learn and grow.

“Yes, Sir. I will.” I glance up into his face, my buttocks clenching. “Are you, I mean, will it be now? Here?”

He grins wickedly. “Here? With the house full to overflowing? I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I already know you’re something of a screamer, and that definitely would upset Rosie. I’d have to gag you, which would spoil the fun a little as I do like to hear my subs reactions to my work. And I’m a nice man. I wouldn’t want you squirming about all the way through the ceremony. This is a wedding. It’s serious stuff. We need to be dignified. So, no, I have something better in mind for you. Later, after the wedding.”

I clap my hand over my mouth. “Oh, Christ, the wedding. I need my bag. My stuff. I need to get ready.”

“And so you shall, little sub. You can have the first shower—”

He’s interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

“Who is it?” Dan calls out, making no attempt to leave the bed.

He knows, as I do, that the room is locked. There’s no response, though, to his question, and a few seconds later the knock is repeated. Suddenly it dawns on me.

“That must be Freya. Anyone else would yell out to say who was there.”

Dan nods sharply. I suspect he just arrived at the same conclusion himself. He swings his legs out of bed and stands up. Naked, he’s one seriously fine sight and I have a brief opportunity to admire his taut buttocks as he bends to retrieve his jeans and steps into them. He zips up but leaves the waistband unfastened as he reaches the door and flicks the lock back. He opens the door a crack, then widens and stands back to invite Freya in. She enters, modestly covered now in her ankle length wrap and to my relief, seems less than surprised to find me naked and obviously just very thoroughly fucked in Dan’s bed. She has kindly brought my bag with her.

“Nick’s in the shower, but he’ll be finished soon. Then you can come back and use our room if you need to. But perhaps you…” She breaks off, glancing around uncertainly, from me to Dan and back. It’s obvious what’s been going on, but Freya chooses not to mention it. I’m not sure if that’s for Dan’s benefit, though he doesn’t understand BSL. Well, not as far as I know. He’s leaning back against the now closed door, watching the pair of us. It seems rude to chat in sign with a non-signer present so I decide to respond verbally.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’d prefer not to risk running into Nick again.” I hesitate, adding Nick to my list of people I need to apologize to. How could I have been so rude? My only excuse is that I was half asleep and perhaps not entirely sober, although I don’t feel even the slightest lingering effects of last night’s wine now. “I was about to use Dan’s shower. If that’s still okay, obviously…?” I glance at him for confirmation.

He nods briefly. “Definitely. I insist. But thanks for the bag, Freya. Saves me a trip.” He winks at me. “And don’t worry about Nick. He’ll be fine. His bite’s much worse than his bark, and these days he reserves all his biting for our little Freya here.” He comes forward, drops a kiss on her forehead. “How are you? The arm?” Freya’s response is to wrap her arms around his waist and hug him. She straightens and steps away to sign her answer.

“I’m fine. Great. Nick too. And Callum.”

She stops, and they both look to me to translate. I do so, but I’m puzzled by the easy friendship which seems to exist between them. I thought Dan was just a passing acquaintance as far as Freya was concerned so I wasn’t expecting all this kissing and hugging.

Freya turns to me, already backing toward the door. “I need to get back. Nick promised to wash my hair. Can’t get the plaster cast wet. And he’s very good with hair…” She waves cheerily as I translate again, and moments later she’s closing the door behind her.

I turn my attention to Dan, who’s now picking up our discarded clothing and tossing it into a pile on the bed. “That looked cozy.”

“Yeah. She’s sweet. Freya and Nick make a great couple. She’s good for him. Shower?”

There’s more. I know it, but Dan’s obviously not about to share. I resolve to ask Freya. Meanwhile, he’s right. I need to start getting ready. I hop out of bed and start to reach for Dan’s discarded shirt, now draped across the duvet, but one imperiously arched eyebrow persuades me to re-think. I settle for sauntering naked across the room. Dan’s amused voice follows me through the door to the en suite.

“Ah, yes. We’ll make a decent sub of you yet, Miss Jones. Starting right after this wedding. Your very pretty bum will be smarting. Now, what did I do with those bloody cuff links?”

I don’t know about smarting, but I see no particular reason to doubt it. Meanwhile, though, my ‘very pretty bum’ is clenching madly in anticipation as I franticly apply myself to arranging Dan’s toothbrush and shaving gear into perfectly aligned order.

* * * *

By the time Dan emerges from his shower, a towel draped precariously around his hips, I’m on my second cup of coffee. Taking a leaf out of Dan’s book, I’ve unpacked my dress for the wedding and hung it alongside his finery on the front of the wardrobe. I bought a posh frock especially for this day, a beautiful calf-length piece of art in a delicate shade of baby blue. The bodice is tight, draped across my breasts in what I sincerely believe is an enticing manner. The cut is clever, designed to enhance my meager endowments. The skirt is a snug fit as well, with a deep split up the back to enable me to walk. It’s a sexy outfit, deliberately so, and given Dan’s plans, I’m starting to wonder about the wisdom of drawing attention to my bottom. But that’s what this dress does. There is really no escaping that fact—draping, caressing, celebrating my curves and offering them up, such as they are.

Oh well, too late to change it now. Even if I was minded to.

“Nice dress.” Dan strolls across the room to the dressing table. He picks up a comb, starts dragging it through his wet hair.

He’s watching me in the mirror as I kneel on the bed, putting the finishing touches with the hairdryer. I switch it off and hold it out to him. “Do you need this?”

“No. Mine’ll dry soon enough on its own.” He tips his head toward my bag, now opened on the bed. “Do you have everything you need?”

“I think so.”

“Do you want this mirror?”

“Yes, please. When you’ve finished, obviously.”

“It’s all yours.” He puts the comb down and opens a drawer. Dragging out a pair of boxer shorts, he proceeds to drop the towel. His erection has subsided, more or less, but he’s still an impressive sight. I’m unashamedly staring as he bends to step into the shorts, and his cock starts to stiffen before my eyes. He slants a glance at me.