Sure Thing (22 page)

“Now we move away, out of sight while Edward takes off the blindfold. Part of the buzz for her is not knowing which other Dom was involved.”

He takes my elbow and we stroll back to our settee. Seated again, I’m less self-conscious now. I’m no longer hiding my breasts like some Year Seven schoolgirl in the changing rooms and although I can generally manage to keep my crotch out of plain sight it does seem a less imperative objective than it did a few minutes ago. And I’m bursting with curiosity.

“What was that? That thing he was hitting her with?”

“A flogger. Made of suede. Very arousing but takes a while to build up the desired effect. I think you’d love it—especially on your nipples.” He idly trails the backs of his fingers across my right nipple as if to emphasize his point, and cranes his neck to look around me. “Josie and Ed are heading for the showers by the looks of things and their space is vacant. Do you fancy a turn, Ashley?”

“God, no! Well, not here…”

“Are you sure? I’m very, very good with a flogger…” He is now gently stroking me and rolling my nipples between his fingers, and he’s smoothed my hair back away from my shoulders to fully expose my breasts to him and anyone else passing.

I realize my nipples are swollen, red, and very, very hard under his teasing fingers. My state of growing arousal is obvious, but somehow I don’t care now who knows it. I arch my back, urging Tom to increase the pressure. He does, but only slightly, not nearly enough.

“You’ll love it, I promise.” His voice is like warm chocolate, sweet and sensual, urging me to even greater delights.

“I, I don’t think I…”

“Don’t think, love, just do it. Just let me do this for you…”

“I don’t want to take my clothes off.”
Such as they are.

Tom chuckles. “I hardly think that’ll be necessary, gorgeous.” And with that he stands, holds out his hand to me.

I take it and he pulls me to my feet.

Moments later I’m spreadeagled against the wall, secured just as Josie was. My legs are wide apart and I’m acutely aware of my exposed and freshly shaven genitals, my aroused clitoris on proud display along with my swollen, throbbing nipples. I’m dimly aware of others nearby, shapes in the shadows, their voices softly murmuring. I’m in the full glare of the spotlights, illuminating me from above and below, and I can feel several pairs of eyes on me, watching me, waiting. Tom stands before me, a blindfold in his hands, his expression questioning. I nod, and my world drops into darkness.

“People are watching,” I whisper at Tom, a little desperately, then, “I don’t want anyone else touching me. Please. Do you promise me?”

“Absolutely. Only me.”

As ever, acutely aware of my tension, he does what he needs to do to calm me. He leans in, kisses me. The kiss is deep, possessive, his tongue plunging deep into my mouth, caressing mine, tasting and testing, exploring. He soon has my attention, undivided. I’m focused just on him and all else recedes. At last, sure I’m his, he breaks the kiss. I purr softly as he raises his head before gently lifting my hair from around my shoulders, twisting and coiling it to lie behind my neck.

“Is that comfortable?” The question is a soft murmur, little more than a whisper against my cheek.

I nod, my eyes calmly closed behind the blindfold, my body tingling in anticipation.

Tom steps away from me, and for a few moments I’m alone. Quite alone, in the dark. In a room full of strangers. Exposed, vulnerable. And feeling incredibly safe.

I don’t hear Tom’s return but squeal in startled surprise as the lightest, most gossamer of touches grazes the very tip of my right nipple. Then nothing. Silence. I wait, quivering, expecting the same treatment for on my left side. A few moments pass, then I feel Tom’s lips close around my right nipple. He grazes the swollen peak with his teeth, lightly, just barely touching. He opens his mouth to take more of my breast, holding it in the warm, wet softness. He wraps his tongue around the pebbled, sensitive bud, pressing it against the roof of his mouth as he sucks.

“Oh, God. Tom!” My strangled shriek bursts from me, the stimulation so intense I feel like the top of my head about to blow. Is it possible to come just from this? Just from having one nipple expertly tongued? Apparently yes, as my climax starts to bubble deep within my core, the direct crackle of electricity from my breast to my groin.

Tom doesn’t let up, he knows exactly what’s happening to me and continues to suckle hard. I’m gasping, about to climax wildly, when he stops and releases me. There’s a slight chill as the air hits my wet flesh, and I start to protest. The sounds die in my throat as Tom shifts his attention to my left breast, taking the throbbing peak between his teeth. This time he nips, not hard, but enough to get my attention and dispel my ardor of a moment before. Then he starts all over again, suckling, laving the engorged peak mercilessly with his skilled, wicked tongue and dropping me at the point of orgasm. His lips briefly brush mine again, his breath on my neck, as he cages me with his body.

“Mmm, you and I are going to have a lot of fun now, sweet Ashley. I think we’re ready to begin. Do you?”

Confused, I’m not especially coherent. “What? I thought we were… I mean, aren’t we already…?

“That was just the warm up.”

His fingers are once more on my breasts, caressing the distended peaks, lightly, gently, but quickly tightening. First the right, then the left. And I realize this is different somehow, not like so many occasions when he’s touched me before. It feels more like when he clamped me, but without the harsh metallic grip. And whatever’s around my nipples is tightening, pinching hard. It’s like a drawstring being pulled tight. Very, very tight. I gasp then squeal. It’s painful. And the not knowing is scaring me.

“Tom, please…” I’m whimpering, I can hear the catch in my voice.

“Call me Sir. You know the rules, little sub. You may be sexy as hell, but you still have to obey. You do know that, don’t you?”

I’m grinding my teeth, determined not to cry out again, so don’t respond.

Tom’s reminder comes in the form of a sharp flick to the now quivering bud on my left breast, and I cry out my answer, “Yes. Yes, Sir.”

He leans in, his mouth close to my ear now. “Breathe slowly, ride the pain out. You can handle this.”

I’m shaking my head, more in disbelief at my own powers of endurance than in any sort of refusal to continue. “I can’t, I don’t think…”

“Yes, love, you can.” And Tom’s palm is against my cheek, his thumb tracing the shape of my mouth.

I part my lips and he slips the end of his thumb inside. I bite down instinctively, and he lets me, a small hiss of pain his only reaction. It’s enough, though, and I release him, ashamed of my violent reaction.

“Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

He chuckles wryly, and I smile too, not unaware of the absurdity of my remark given our current situation.

“Let’s call it even. Now, my little Ashley, you have a visitor. The dungeon master is here and wants to ask you a question. I’m going to step away, out of earshot, and you must answer him. Honestly.”

“What? Where…?”

The next voice I hear is deep, male. A stranger. He sounds to be close by, just to my left. “Are you all right, girl?”

Girl?

I nod, frantic for this intruder to leave, for Tom to be back with me.

“Are you familiar with our safe word color code, girl?”

Again I nod. Then I remember, blurt out the only thing I can think of that’ll get rid of him. “Green. It’s green.”

“Very well. Thank you. Please continue. I will be close by and I’ll look in on you later.”

And suddenly he’s gone, and Tom’s back.

I devour his “hello, it’s me” kiss and realize the pain in my nipples is there, sharp and cruel still, but bearable. I’ve no idea what sort of clamps he’s using, but they are very, very effective. He grazes his fingertips lightly across the swollen, hard tips and it feels like a bolt of electricity again, arcing straight to my clit. I jerk, the sensation intense, almost overwhelming. I’m thrashing in my restraints, and rolling my head from side to side as Tom experimentally suckles my left breast this time, to test my response once more. The moisture is pooling between my legs, my exposed clit growing, stretching for contact, desperate for friction. Even the slightest touch will be enough to send me into orbit.

And knowing that, Tom steps away, leaves me to wait, to cool down. To get a grip on myself. Or maybe he’s just fetching his next toy. Whatever, the effect’s the same. He places a bottle of water to my lips, softly urges me to drink. Then he dribbles the cool liquid onto my breasts, now throbbing mercilessly. The chill seems to swell the turgid peaks even more against their tight confines, if that were possible. I’m trembling, quivering with need, desperate for him to nudge me that slight bit further, to provide that infinitesimal something more that would shatter my senses. But he doesn’t. He waits, and I wait, my arousal receding just enough so that by the time he eventually starts to flay me with the soft flogger I’m able to handle it without going off instantly like a firecracker. Well, more or less.

The feeling of the soft suede tendrils lashing my helplessly sensitive breasts and nipples is excruciating. Exquisite agony, perfect pain. I use what remaining muscle function I have under my control to push my breasts out, offering them to Tom, silently begging him to beat them, torture them. My incoherent pleading is audible only to my Dom though any observers would be witnessing a magnificent display—my otherwise total unraveling at his skilled, artful hands. And so far, he hasn’t even touched me below the waist.

My orgasm, when Tom finally permits it and tips me over the edge, is sublime. I arch, stiffen. The intense ripples wash over and through me, my body boneless, melting under this onslaught. I gasp, moaning Tom’s name over and over while he continues to work the flogger against my breasts, careful to strike the clamped, pebbly buds with each blow, from above, from below, allowing the strands to tangle and twist around the hard, throbbing peaks then mercilessly tugging them free. My climax seems to go on and on, subsiding slightly only to bubble up and seize my unresisting body again. And again. Wave after wave of intense, agonizing sensation pumps though me, orgasmic energy crackling around a perfect, sensual triangle between my nipples and my clit, working together in perfect harmony.

Eventually though, the sizzle diffuses, diminishes, becomes a tingle, then a gently buzz. I hang there, dazed, my chin on my chest, trying to work out which way up I am. The water bottle at my lips again helps to ground me, and I accept the cool, refreshing water gratefully. I raise my head, lick the moisture from my lips, and try to regain some feeling in my legs before Tom releases me.

I needn’t have bothered, I’m not about to be released any time soon. Instead, I squeal as the first stroke of the flogger hits my clitoris. My instinct is to close my legs, protect my delicate, sensitive core from this vicious assault, not unlike earlier when Tom ‘demonstrated’ how clips would feel when applied to that greedy, throbbing little bud. I open my mouth to protest then close it firmly, not wanting to attract another visit from ‘the staff’. The next few blows are excruciating, the sensation strange, harsh, not the reverent caresses I’ve grown accustomed to from Tom Shore. I bite my lip, tell myself to trust my Dom, to concentrate on what’s happening, on the alien sensations now coursing through my body.

My attempts at resistance evaporates—I breathe deeply, evenly, and feel myself perceptibly start to relax into it. It’s painful, but the pleasure is there too, lurking below, around the corner, teasing me from a slight distance away. Then rushing in close to grab me, to tickle and torment before scurrying off to hide again. I’m thrusting my hips forward, desperate for my naughty little pleasure friend to come back, to play with me once more. My pussy is clenching wildly, the moisture now flowing freely, no doubt glistening for all to see. I should be ashamed of myself. Maybe I will be. Later. Now, though, I need…

This.
Yes! Tom has stopped thrashing me, only to plunge two fingers hard and fast inside me. He twists, stretches me. My juices flow in response with a decadent sound. He withdraws then fills me again, this time with three long, tapered fingers.

“Come, Ashley. Now.” The command is firm, insistent.

I obey instantly, shuddering and convulsing around him, my inner muscles working frantically to grip his thrusting hand, gasping my pleasure, my gratitude, my total surrender.

“I want to fuck you. Here. Now.”

“Yes, yes please…”

“Here, Ashley. There are people watching…?”

I don’t care. Do it. Do it.

“Thank God. And thank you, sweetheart. This is going to be hard and fast and you’ll just need to keep up.”

I dimly realize that I must have said the words out loud, then all conscious thought scatters as he releases my ankles from their restraints, only to lift my legs up and clamp them around his waist. His cock is inside me a moment later, and I cry out with the sheer force of it. He’s buried to the hilt, holding my body, angled for his deeper penetration. I’m still suspended by my wrists though Tom is taking my weight, his hands cupping my bottom to hold me in place. Just as he wants me. As I want me.

He withdraws, plunges hard and deep again, and his muffled, “Fucking hell, baby, that’s good…” is muttered into my ear.

I squeeze, gripping him hard, to be rewarded by more obscenities while he continues to fuck me, soundly and very thoroughly. Despite Tom’s obvious obsession with his own pleasure he nevertheless adjusts his angle of penetration to hit my G-spot with every stroke. It’s enough, and I start to convulse again, this time beyond any conscious control of mine as my body once more surrenders to orgasm. I pulse and clench around his hard, thick shaft, glorying in the feeling of fullness, the connection between us. The sense of completeness. With another violent curse and a final punishing thrust Tom’s climax takes over and I feel the now familiar warmth of his semen pumping into me. He stills at last, both of us breathing hard and leaning against the wall at my back, spent and totally satiated.