Sexy as Hell Box Set (33 page)

I released a long, low groan as the vibrator slid in deep, stretching me deliciously and filling a void.

“That’s it,” Victor said, “take it all, and this.” He positioned the ears of the vibrator around my clit.

I moaned and shook my head. I’d be done for once they started buzzing. How I’d obey him and not come until commanded was beyond me.

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “Just go with it, I’ve got you.”

His breath washed over my buttocks and lower back. Warm and soft. I pictured his face as he watched my pussy taking the vibrator. He’d be fascinated and full of concentration, enjoying looking and having control of this new experience.

The first swells of an orgasm rippled through my pelvis. It wouldn’t take much. Victor was building me up and up—I only hoped he’d catch me. If he could, that was. I was beginning to spiral already…

“Ah, ah…” I called out as the vibrator hummed to life. “Oh, God, Sir,” I wailed. My clit was taking one hell of a beating.

“You must take another five hits on each arse cheek before you come, do you hear me?” He gave my hair a tug. “Zara? Do you hear me?”

“Yes, oh, God, yes, please, just do it.”

Thankfully he didn’t hang about and set to beating me at a rapid pace. Each almighty sting bloomed to my pussy and clit, intensifying every sensation tenfold. I gripped his sweats, pulled my neck against the strength of him holding my hair and shoved my arse up and down as much as I could.

I wasn’t counting but guessed I must have made it to eight or nine before the climax hit hard and fast, stealing my breath, and for a few moments my sense of time, place and person. Brilliant pulses of pleasure pounded at my clit and pussy. I wailed as best I could with the little air remaining in me. It was as if I was too full of ecstasy to have room even for breath. I flinched and trembled, bucked and reared, and all the time Victor held me tight, abandoning the paddle to use his palm against me, smacking over and over, adding to the heat of pain with more and more blissful layers.

The vibrator became too much, especially on my clit, and I spasmed and thrust away from it, needing relief from the incessant pulsating. Luckily Victor must have realised this because he turned it off and withdrew it.

I pulled in a shaky breath and released some of the tension in my neck and hands. Endorphins were giving me a natural trip.

“So pretty to see you come from this angle,” Victor said, pushing his fingers into my pussy again and raking them over my spongy G-spot.

“Oh, God,” I muttered, becoming aware of dampness around my eyes. Tears had been spilt and I hadn’t noticed.

“Are you ready to go again?” he asked.

“
Wh…what, Sir?”

He laughed. “That was the first course. Relax for this bit, Zara, you’ll need to.”

Damn, now what? And how come he was being so cool and calm when I was a writhing mess? Even as I’d thought it I realised how much this commanding, controlling Victor turned me on. I liked the shell-shocked virgin, yes, but this man knew what he wanted from me, what he wanted to give me and just got on with it. Fuck, I liked that. What was more, I couldn’t imagine any other man instilling that urge in me to want to obey. It was only Victor.

Again I jolted within his embrace. The shock of the cold,
lubed tip of the vibrator on my arsehole sent a chill of anticipation over my buttocks and up my spine.

“
Shh,” he soothed.

I did my best to relax, bearing down as Victor wriggled and pushed and eventually gained entry.

The stretch was sublime, a nip of pain, a stitch of delight and almost overwhelming excitement for the erotic view Victor had just given himself. It was a good job I was not a stranger to back-door entry because that vibrator was big and thick. Some people it would hurt in a bad way, but for me it was a challenge, and as he slowly slid it into me, filling me, I relished the chock-full feeling and allowed it to stoke another climax. I just needed a little bit more, on my clit, in my pussy, just…more.

I whimpered and bit on his sweats, rubbed myself against his leg hoping for clitoral stimulation.

It didn’t come. Instead, I got a sharp hand spank on each cheek and then I was raised upwards.

The vibrator shifted. My head spun at the change in position and my knees refused to support me. But that was okay, Victor had me in his arms, holding me together, folding me into his chest. I found his mouth, kissed him hungrily.

He returned my passion, his tongue vying for control. I fought hard to win the battle as he lowered me to the floor and the heat of the fire bled over us. The vibrator stayed lodged high in my arse.

“Zara,” he gasped, one-
handedly shoving at his sweats.

“Yes, Sir?”

“I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Yes, yes please, Sir.”

He hesitated. “Can you take me, at the same time as that?”

I caught his cheeks in my palms, spread my legs wider for him to settle between. His need to ask was endearing. Even at the height of his domination over me, he thought to check my boundaries. He was learning well. I was so proud of him in that moment.

“We’ll soon find out,” I said, “but switch the damn thing on so you can feel the vibrations too. Sir.”

He propped himself on one arm. His chest muscles were defined and tense. A few beads of sweat sat in the centre of his sternum. I wanted to lick them off but didn’t have the energy. I was weak yet alive, full to bursting but wanting to be filled. Victor was with me, over me, yet still I wanted more. I wanted him in me, to crawl beneath my skin and become part of me.

Suddenly the vibrator flooded my body with a new, deep and mind-blowing sensation.

“Oh, oh…” My arms went weak, so did my legs, and I flopped, only arching my back because of an acute need to tip my pelvis.

“Let me in,” Victor said against my mouth as he forced his dick into my pussy.

I couldn’t answer. The fast tremors in my back passage travelling to my clit were holding cognitive thought hostage.

“Ah, fuck yeah, I can feel it too,” Victor gasped and tunnelled deeper into me.

He was kissing me but I couldn’t kiss back, my mouth limp, my body his to do with as he pleased.

“Ah, yeah, yeah, so good,” he groaned, sinking balls deep. “Yes, that’s it. Fuck, come whenever you can, baby, I’m not going to last. So fucking hot and tight, and those vibrations, those little ears are touching my balls, ah, ah…”

I heard his words but I was already coming, it was too much. Pleasure gripped me in a strangulating fist. Never before had I felt so owned, so completely surrendered to another person, and it was Victor owning me, possessing my body with his. Inside I wailed, screamed, cried with delight, with awe-inspiring gratitude for the place he’d taken me to. But no sound would come out—I was silent, catatonic. I belonged to him, and without him I had no idea how to come down from this high and be Zara again.

“Baby,
shh, it’s okay.” Victor’s voice. Victor’s kisses.

I realised I was crying, tears dripping down my cheeks and soaking onto soft chest hairs and warm skin.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “Fuck, please, forgive me.” A kiss pressed onto my scalp.

I became aware of where I was,
who
I was.

The vibrator had gone. Victor was next to me, holding me against his body, with my head tucked beneath his chin. We were wrapped in a soft blanket, meshed as one, legs tangled, arms entwined. I realised I was on a bed, Victor’s bed. I was in Victor’s penthouse and he’d spanked and fucked me into sub space.

He kissed my head again, stroked my hair. I was aware of his heart beat tripping against his ribcage; it was still fast, though mine felt slow, like my body had returned to normal after the amazing orgasms. Fuck yeah, bloody amazing orgasms.

“Hey,” I said, testing my voice and control over my arm. “It’s all right, I’m all right.” I looked up at him and cupped his cheek. It was dark but the lights of London filtered in through the window, creating a sparkling glow.

He frowned down at me. “I didn’t mean to hurt you in a bad way.”

“You didn’t, it was amazing.”

He studied my eyes, as though looking to see if I was telling the truth or not. “Are you sure?”

“Jesus, do you even need to ask? You fucked me into unconsciousness and that’s never happened to me before. Ever.”

I partly dreaded what Zara had in store for me within the next hour.

She’d left earlier this morning—I’d insisted she borrowed some of my boxer shorts—saying she had a full day planned. Something about practising with Carlos. I’d been hard pressed not to balk at that, not to say, in my new Master voice, that no, she was forbidden to mess around with him until we were over. Of course, by the time daylight had slanted through the bedroom windows, bathing her goddamned gorgeous face in an almost white glow, our roles had reversed. She’d become the Dominant, and by the set of her jaw I’d been able to tell that there would be no way she’d accept me dishing out orders.

She further confirmed this by turning, hair scooped up and presenting me with the collar’s buckle which had slipped to the back of her neck.

“What are you going to do with this?” she’d asked snappily.

“What do you want me to do?” I’d stared at it, thinking how much it suited her. How much I liked her wearing ‘my’ collar.

She’d sighed, dramatically, loudly, and I took that to mean it was time for me to remove it. Why she couldn’t just take it off herself, I didn’t know.

I’d done it slowly, wishing, somewhere in my core, that I wasn’t. That I was leaving it on for Carlos, Fifi, everyone else at the club to see. They called me Virgin, but last night I had been the great Mistress Zara’s Master—what would they make of that?

Work had been…trying. Mary, although in a better mood than she had been lately, had eyed me with suspicion again. It had felt as though she’d known what I’d been up to last night. Had I displayed the sated male look? There was no doubt in my mind she had plans for me and her niece—saving me from Zara’s clutches, I suspected—so if I’d exuded any I’ve-been-well-and-truly-fucked airs she’d have had something to mull over.

Still, Mary wasn’t my concern—nor was her opinion of me. My
only
concern was where I was about to go and what Zara would expect of me once I got there. A show, she’d texted earlier, one that would “knock my socks off”. If it was anything like the ones I’d witnessed so far, I’d be barefooted within seconds, and although apprehensive, I couldn’t deny my excitement. This journey with Zara had been one wild ride so far, and even though at times it had been a never-stopping roller coaster, I found I didn’t want to get off.

Would I be left with shaking limbs, the feeling of my heart being in my throat when the thrilling ride
did
come to a stop? I didn’t want to think about that—couldn’t. My heart and mind were leaning heavily towards making Zara mine over Christmas, after the New Year, well into the spring, summer…but her behaviour warned that me asking such a thing of her would be too much. Scare her away.

I shook my head and straightened the collar of my black polo shirt then glanced down at my matching skinny jeans—did I look stupid in them? Was I too old to wear them? I’d purchased them on a whim during my lunch break earlier, and now, like a teenager going out on his first proper date, I had second thoughts. Also, I couldn’t erase the feeling that tonight was going to be momentous in some way, life-changing—and not necessarily for the good. Perhaps it was the not knowing what the show was going to be that was wreaking havoc with my emotions, but whatever it was, the sense of finality wasn’t sitting too comfortably on my shoulders.

“You’re being a dick, as Ollie would say,” I muttered.

And I was.

I couldn’t predict the future any better than a caravan-dwelling, toothless old woman on the seafront.

Eden Street looked particularly seedy tonight. A few pieces of litter danced along the ground, tossed and urged on by a stiff wind that cut into my face and had me hunching my shoulders, burying my cheeks deeper into my upstanding jacket collar. I spotted a decorated Christmas tree in someone’s window, the curtains bunched up against it. Another home had bravely displayed a wreath on the front door, no doubt hoping it was too cold for anyone to be bothered to take their hands from their pockets and pinch it. It wasn’t a night to be out and about, that much was certain, but I’d soon be warmed up—either by the heat inside the building or the burn of lust inside me. It had been such an extraordinary week, the start with me shocked by the world Zara had revealed, the end with me wanting to know more about it. To dig deeper into that sleaziness and roll around in it. I contented myself with the fact that I had three weeks left of this exploration and, judging by how much I’d learned so far, there was no way Zara would be able to continue calling me The Virgin.

As I reached up to knock on the door, I chuckled at the cheek of her. She was so…so bloody infuriatingly wonderful in every way, from her usual annoying things-must-be-my-way-or-else attitude to her, at times, surprising vulnerability. I would never have guessed she’d had it in her to back down, to become submissive, and I felt more than a little pleased that I’d been the one who’d instigated a couple of firsts for her. First time being a sub, first time ever being fucked unconscious. She’d never forget me because of that, and in the weeks, months and years ahead when we were no longer together, I could hold on tight to that knowledge and hope that sometimes she’d be thinking of me.