Sexy as Hell Box Set (28 page)

But everyone had to have a first time. Wasn’t that what I’d been doing to him when I’d shoved the plug up his arse, made him watch lewd shows and treated him to the paddle?

But this would be
both
our first times. Me being spanked to orgasm, and him spanking me there.

I nibbled on the loose tag of skin by my thumbnail. What if it went wrong? Perhaps I wouldn’t be able to come. Maybe the pain would make me hate him. I couldn’t bear that. Perhaps a flogger would be better than the paddle, the pain was less solid.

Striding the length of the window, about forty paces, I reached the far wall then turned and strode back, the soles of my feet slapping on the floor. Anxiety was an unfamiliar and, quite honestly, unwelcome companion.

I wrung my hands, repeated my stalk the way a caged tiger would.

An idea suddenly came to me. It wasn’t great, probably not sensible, but it would give me the answers to my questions, therefore it was viable, acceptable.

Reaching for my phone from the kitchen counter, I brought up Carlos’ number. He answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey, it’s me,” I said.

“I know, Mistress Zara, I have caller ID.” He paused to yawn. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Did I wake you?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Sorry.”

“No problem. How can I serve you, Mistress?”

“I need your help.”

“Then it’s yours.”

“I’m going to text you an address in the city, near Tower Bridge. Can you be here in an hour?”

“Of course.”

I thought of the paddle in my handbag. “And can you bring a flogger?”

“Yes indeed, Mistress.”

There had been a note of excitement in his voice. I almost felt bad. He thought he was going to get some, but he wasn’t.

“Good, see you soon. Oh, and don’t bother with breakfast. I’ll have some waiting for you.”

“Yes, Mistress, I’m looking forward to it very much.”

“Me too.”

I hung up and quickly sent him Victor’s address. My plan should work fine. I’d experiment with pain this afternoon, make Carlos beat me while I wanked, and see how it worked for my body. Discover whether the paddle or the flogger gave me the most satisfaction.

Staring around the apartment at the swanky TV, the posh leather couch and the shiny furniture, I wondered about the politeness of inviting a guest to a home that wasn’t my own. I shrugged, pushed the thought from my mind. It’d be okay. It was only Carlos, and he wouldn’t stay long. Besides, Carlos only did what I told him to. It had always been that way. And I was a teacher preparing for a lesson. It would be unprofessional of me not to be organised.

The bell rang just before the hour was up. I adjusted Victor’s navy cashmere scarf around my neck, which hid the collar, and opened the door. Reginald, the butler bloke, was standing there with his lips in a stern line. Carlos lurked several paces behind him.

“This man says he’s here to visit you,” Reginald said. “Just wanted to check that was okay, Miss.”

I glanced at Carlos. His bulk was at least twice that of the old man and he was easily a head taller. But he looked like a kid who’d been dragged to the headmaster’s office by the scruff of his neck. His mouth was downturned, his eyes sad.

“Yes, I was expecting him, he’s a friend.” I smiled at Reginald. “But thanks so much for making sure everything was as it should be. There are some strange folks around these days.”

He touched the peak of his cap. “There are, Miss, and I wouldn’t like to think one had got up here on my watch.”

I touched the top of his arm and stroked down to his elbow. “You’re very sweet.”

He breathed deep, tilted his chin, and his eyes sparkled. “Just doing my job.”

“And I’m very grateful.” I broadened my smile, beckoning Carlos with a nod. “Come in.”

Carlos scooted around Reginald and into the hallway.

I shut the door.

“This is very nice.” Carlos said, glancing around.

“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

“Have you found yourself a millionaire, Mistress?”

I shrugged. “I suppose so, for a while, at least.”

Carlos toed off his trainers and then wandered into the main room. “
Fuck
,” he said, “that’s a very expensive view of London.”

“I suppose it is.” I didn’t think I’d ever tire of London’s skyline and I’d miss it when my time with Victor was up. “I’ve made you a bacon sandwich. You want a drink to go with it?”

“Coffee, please.”

“There’s only
decaff, is that okay?”

“It’ll have to be.” He placed a soft leather bag on the barstool.

For a moment I stared at it. In there was the flogger I’d instructed him to bring. Soon I’d make him beat me with it. But it was all right, I could do this.

Quickly, I busied myself with making Carlos a coffee while he sat at the island and munched his breakfast. I was anxious and excited all at the same time. I felt sexy but also a little clinical, like I was about to take part in an experiment, which in a way, I was.

“Carlos,” I said as he pushed his empty plate and mug aside.

“Yes, Mistress.”

I walked behind him, pressed my hands onto the black sweater covering his shoulders. Damn, the guy had some big, beefy muscles going on. I hoped he knew how strong he was. “Today we’re going to do something a bit different.”

“Yes, Mistress. Whatever you wish, Mistress.”

I rubbed over the balls of his shoulders, gripped his biceps, and leaned close to his ear. “Today, for a change, you’re going to beat
me
.”

I felt and heard his intake of breath. “What?”

Flicking my wrist, I slapped his arm. “What,
Mistress
.”

“Sorry, sorry, Mistress. But…you want me to hit you?”

“Yes.” I straightened.

He was silent, and I stared at the back of his head, at his scalp that could be made out through his super-short hair.

“Do you think you’ll be able to do it?” I asked. He was my sub, this was something new—it would be remiss of me not to make sure it wasn’t totally out of his comfort zone.

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me, forever and always.”

“Good.” I leant forward and pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck.

He sighed and a tremble went through his body. But I knew he didn’t love me. We’d had the conversation; he just liked how I treated him, dominated him, made him come. I also knew that one day a woman would make him feel the same way and he’d love her too. That would be the day our relationship would end…but for now…for now ours was a symbiotic partnership and one that had never reached full intercourse.

“Did you bring the flogger?” I asked, walking to the hall table.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good, get it out.”

I retrieved my paddle, though I wasn’t sure how well it would work on my shoulders; maybe a few slaps on my buttocks if I needed it. My idea, though, was to just have Carlos deliver the pain to my shoulders. That way if I had red marks when Victor got home tonight, I could keep a T-shirt on, or, if necessary, say I’d done it to myself. He wouldn’t find it unusual that I might try something like that, given that Julie did it all the time.

Walking to the rug in front of the fire, I dropped to my knees, pulled Helen’s jumper off then tossed it and the paddle aside. I’d worn no bra and my breasts hung heavy and aroused, the ends of the scarf dangling between them.

I took a deep breath and visualised how it would be later with Victor, not here, now, with Carlos. My arse would be there for his taking. Naked and vulnerable. My pussy would be wet with my wanting, each rush of the paddle taking me higher.

Or so I hoped.

Hurriedly, I shoved my hand down the front of my jeans, strummed my clit and caught that first spark of interest.

“Mistress,” Carlos said from above me. “Please instruct me.”

“I need you to use the flogger on me. My shoulders only.”

“But…?”

“Just do it. Hard.”

“But, what’s your safe word?”

Damn, of course. “It’s smitten, okay, smitten.” I went forwards onto my knees and one hand, bowed my back and my hair fell around my face. Access to my clit was better like this, and I fretted and fingered myself, picturing Victor behind me, holding that flogger above his head. His eyes flashing with excitement, his breaths coming quick, and that little muscle in his jaw flexing the way it did when he was concentrating. He wouldn’t let me move, he’d have me pinned down either physically or with words.

“Now, damn it,” I said. “Fucking hit me, slave.”

Searing heat broke across my shoulders, the pain hotter, harder than I’d expected. I grunted in discomfort and clenched my teeth. Let the hurt spread through my body.

“Again, again,” I said, when the next strike didn’t come.

“Yes, Mistress.”

Another blow, as firm as the first and in the same place.

Licks of blistering heat spread over my skin. My pussy
spasmed, my thighs tensed, and my dangling breasts jerked as I flinched.

“For fuck’s sake, Carlos, hit me again, and then again.” I paused to pant, the pain in my shoulders turning to a dull sting. “Hit me the way I hit you. Beat me until I come. I want this, I need it. I command you to flog me until I orgasm, and if you stop before then, Lord help me, I’ll punish you so harshly you won’t be able to walk until after bloody Christmas.”

He grunted, muttered, and then the pain began. Swipe after swipe of leather against my flesh. Each hit hurt to hell and back, my body responding by shuddering and twitching.

It didn’t take long for the agony to become a boiling hot cauldron of sensation. The strikes all blurred into one, an indistinguishable medley of pain that I forced myself to channel to my clit and pussy.

Part of me wanted to scream
smitten
, the other half of me wouldn’t, not until I came.

My wrist ached, my masturbating reaching violent levels. Tears filled my eyes,
overspilt and fell onto the rug. Cries caught in my throat, strangling me, gagging me.

The pressure was so great. Not just in my pussy, but throughout my whole body. It was as if I were truly alive, every nerve stimulated, hyper-stimulated. Soon my orgasm would be there, soon, very soon. I prayed for it to take me swiftly, then the pain would stop. But so would my high. This dizzy, reckless, submissive state would end and I’d be Zara, Carlos and Victor’s Mistress again. My responsibilities would return, my need to be in control would surface.

Suddenly the additional stripes of pain stopped. The flogger was no longer beating down on me. I think it must have taken a few seconds for me to realise because I was such a bubbling mass of need and hurt anyway.

“Carlos,” I hissed, aware that my mouth was wet with saliva, drooling almost. “Don’t stop, you bastard.”

Nothing.

I fretted my clit, cursing the fact that my orgasm was retreating before it had bloomed. “Hit me or I swear I’ll shove not one but two mega-plugs up your arse, side by side.”

Still nothing.

Exasperated, I sat back on my heels then turned, still tweaking my clit and hoping to re-gather the lost pulses of an orgasm.

Staring down at me were two men.

Carlos
and
Victor.

Victor held Carlos’ arm aloft. The arm that held the now limp flogger.

Carlos’ cheeks were red. He was breathing hard through his nose, like a bull, and his mouth was set in a tight, straight line.

Victor was staring at me, unblinking, his brow creased, his lips parted and his emerald-green tie skewwhiff.

“What the fucking hell…” Victor said in a strained, shocked voice. “What the fucking hell in God’s name is going on here?”

I stared at Zara, who sat there with my cashmere scarf around her neck, her tits on show, and her hand shoved down the front of her jeans. I felt as though all my innards had evaporated, just leaving me as a body shape made of skin. I’d experienced fear before and knew that’s what I was going through now—fear that I’d definitely lose her at the end of our time together if she could do what she’d been doing with Carlos. Why had I begun to think that we might go on for longer? Hope was a bitch on sexy legs, and she was here before me now, mouth an ‘o’, her cheeks flushing.

“Victor! You’re back early!” She looked at me, assessing my mood, I suspected, then switched her attention to Carlos. “That will be all, slave, thank you very much. I’m aware of how hard to strike now. You can leave.”

She glared at me—hard—and I obeyed her silent command, damn it!—letting go of Carlos’ arm, resisting the urge to break the bloody thing. I couldn’t take my anger, my bewilderment, out on him. She’d reminded me just then, using the term ‘slave’, that he had obviously just been doing as she’d instructed.