The Gift (28 page)

He repeated the process. And again. She felt slippery, awash with moisture, her entire sex swimming in it. The excess gel trickled down the inside of her bottom cheeks, coating her anus too.

It was a rude feeling, but it excited her, made her feel twitchy.

She shook her head, sending her hair flying around her again. Jay grabbed a hank of it while he massaged the gel over her perineum, holding her not unkindly but imposing his will upon her. Slowly, slowly he drew her face to his again for more kissing.

Sandy sighed into the kiss, excitement spiralling.
Something it would have done even if he hadn’t been touching her sex. There was something about kissing Jay that was different to kissing any other man she’d ever kissed. And it was stronger now, more potent than ever now that she knew he was her long-lost Prince Charming.

Maybe he could indeed kiss anything better. A little dark shadow crossed her mind as she wondered if he’d need to.

‘Ready?’ His breath was hot against her face as he murmured the words into her hair, nuzzling the wavy red mass.

‘Ready,’ she confirmed, feeling her heart rise nervously in her chest, seemingly into her throat.

Still holding her lightly by her hair, he picked up the love-egg and pressed its surface against her.

God! It’s big! Much bigger than I thought …

Pressure. Relentless pressure. Impossible pressure. It wouldn’t go inside her, surely? It just wouldn’t. She opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again, biting her lip. Behind her, against the table, she made fists of her hands.

But Jay seemed to know her limits, her size, the resilience of her body. He kept pressing the damned thing against her, steadily, relentlessly, and while he did so he started kissing her again, making her concentrate on their mouths with complicated little licks, probes and darts. Voluptuous tasting and exploring that both thrilled her and calmed her at the same time.

As he swirled his tongue around hers in a swift wicked dance, her body relaxed and granted entrance to the love-ball. She groaned into his mouth, tensing again, flight or fight reflexes making her want to pull away from it, expel it. But he persisted, kissing harder and looping more of her hair around his fingers as he pushed the little ovoid right up
inside her, directing it with the tip of his finger until it settled in the natural niche within her body.

‘Grip it. Play with it. Use those strong clever muscles down there to work it.’

‘I can’t! I can’t!’ she cried. She could feel the weight of the love toy pressing on the root of her clitoris from within. The strange presence inside her was unnerving, disorientating. Areas of stimulation were being fired that had never been fired before, creating sensations that she wasn’t even sure she liked. There was a sense of needing to urinate, even though she knew she didn’t really need to. She started to make noises, little grunts and gasps of protest, whimpers of arousal she was helpless to contain.

‘Would it be easier if I gagged you?’ he asked softly, reaching beyond her, searching in the box again. The way this rocked her body, and the intrusion within it, made her gurgle low in her throat. The sound was uncouth and alien in the familiar surroundings of her café.

Sweating, the tips of her breasts aching from the clamps, and her entire pussy in chaos, she nodded. There seemed an awesome symmetry about being stoppered at both ends.

The gag that he fished out of the box was a black sphere with long black ribbons. Before she could change her mind, Jay slipped it into her mouth and secured it in place, tying it over her hair. She’d expected the taste of rubber from the ball, but it was surprisingly neutral.

‘Are you OK with that?’ His voice was serious, concerned. Sandy nodded. She felt again that sense of reassurance, of safety with him. He might be entranced by sexual games, and revelling in the perversity of what he could do with her, and to her, because she let him. But at the bottom of that, at the heart of the play, her welfare was paramount to him. If
she didn’t like it and she didn’t want it, and if it didn’t give her pleasure, they wouldn’t do it.

Gagged, clamped and filled with the love-egg, she felt both objectified and exalted. A surrendered being. Her arousal soared, and she wanted more, more, more. Prepared like this, she wanted to rub herself against Jay, work her crotch against him. She wanted to part her thighs and rock her pussy against his strong thigh until she came. She wanted him to handle her when she couldn’t handle him. She wanted him to play with her in every way he wanted to. Perhaps spank her? Perhaps hurt her and expose her and exalt her in strange new ways that expanded her perceptions?

Wild thoughts made her gurgle again around her gag. Her clit seemed to swell between her legs, shouting silently for service. Contact.

‘Walk for me,’ said Jay, taking her by the upper arm and setting her on her feet. The way the egg rocked inside her made her eyes start in her head, and a wash of her own lubrication joined the pond between her legs. Perspiration poured from her, trickling down her back and gathering in her armpits and soaking the band of her bra beneath her breasts. She panted continuously around the rubber ball in her mouth as he led her to the open space in front of the counter and, sliding his arm around her waist, guided her into a slow and silent close-dance.

How bizarre. How strange. How intense.

For moments on end, they swayed together, and with every tick, tick, tick of her heart, Sandy grew more aroused, more excited. The egg rolled and churned inside her, caressing her inner pleasure centres. She wanted to moan, she wanted to sob, she wanted to holler blue murder.

She wanted to be pushed to her limits, to fly apart
with pleasure, then be made whole again by sharing it with Jay.

You are ‘The One’
, she told him silently as a tear born of extreme sensation and emotion slid down her face. She nearly swooned when he captured it with his tongue, then kissed its track. She knew it was insane to have fallen for a man she’d known, in real terms, for just a few days. But she had. It was a done deal. She loved him.

How could she not love Prince Charming now she’d found him again?

As he kissed her face, Jay’s hands slid down and settled on her bottom cheeks, holding her there. His fingers cupped the rounds of flesh and began to massage them.

‘Your arse is beautiful, Princess,’ he murmured against her brow. ‘Magnificent. Sumptuous. A work of art.’ He swooped down and nipped her earlobe, inflicting a delicious little pain.

‘I’d love to spank you now, do you know that?’ He paused. ‘Would you let me?’

Sandy’s knees went weak, but he caught her, one arm snaking around her waist, holding her up, while the other continued to knead her bottom cheek. His fingertips were dangerously near to where the silvery woven cord dangled out of her.

‘Would you let me spank you?’ he repeated, then snagged her earlobe for another little nip.

When he kissed her lobe better, she nodded her head, wanting and needing to be spanked, although not knowing why. Turning, she caught a twinkle in his eye that seemed to dance into hers. They exchanged grins, as best she could with the obstruction in her mouth.

Spanking? It was an absurd game to play really, wasn’t it?
She knew it. He knew it. And yet that was the fun of it, the sharing.

Then it was all seriousness. Sort of …

‘Lean across the table, Princess,’ he instructed her, swirling her around and pressing on the centre of her back.

Sandy started to comply, then balked. She nodded down at her breasts, at the jewels dangling from the clamps. They’d dig into her, and that wasn’t the kind of pain she wanted, no way.

‘We’ll take them off then. But you might regret it, sweetheart, I warn you.’

She had a feeling she knew why, but still her head came up, daring him to do his worst.

Swiftly, deftly, Jay unscrewed the first clamp. And Sandy squealed around the gag. The pressure released was far worse than the pressure first inflicted, and double when he unfastened the other one. Sandy danced from one foot to the other, then gasped again as the egg moved inside her. It was overload, too much. She didn’t know whether she wanted to rub herself, or come, or just yell as best she could with the gag in her mouth.

But Jay held her close again, pressing her freed nipples against the solid wall of his chest. At first Sandy moaned, but within moments she began to purr and shimmy, loving the pressure and the delicate scrape of his silk shirt against the tender tips of her breasts.

‘Better?’ he asked, his hands firm on her back and her bottom.

She nodded, still moving, circling, and working herself against him, nipples, crotch, belly, thighs.

He buried his face in her hair, and she felt him breathe
in deeply, as if intoxicated by the scent of it and her herbal shampoo. ‘We don’t have to do the spanking thing,’ he said, pausing to kiss her brow. ‘Not if you don’t really want to. You don’t have to pander to my kinky whims. It’s just a game.’

Sandy looked up into his eyes and gave him an old-fashioned look, telling him silently that she was damned if she was going to let him bottle out on her and not satisfy her curiosity, her desire, her expectations.

Jay stared down at her, his eyes unfathomable. He wanted her, she knew, and he wanted them to indulge in erotic fun together, and experiment, but there was more going on, much, much more. Strange tiny tensions played across his face, and she couldn’t decipher them. Then he smiled.

‘You’re a remarkable woman, Princess. Why is it that I know you can take anything I can dish out?’ His raw voice was almost velvet for once. ‘Now lie across the table and prove it to yourself.’

She obeyed him, trembling and yet smiling to herself. She pictured her pale bottom gleaming in the centre of the café, like a choice dish on display, a kinky naughty buffet. Especially with the silk ribbon of her thong bisecting her buttocks, and the silver cord of the love-egg hanging down. Just the image of it in her mind made her sex melt and moisten, delicately flexing and clenching around the silicon egg. When Jay touched her there, right on her entrance, as light as a feather, she moaned out loud. He was monitoring her body, its every response.

‘You’re so hot, Princess, so hot. I’ve never known a woman quite like you.’ He flicked at her labia, the tips of his fingers floating over her, sweeping up her perineum,
tantalising the rose of her bottom. They slid over her cheeks, touching and testing, assessing the resilience of flesh, of muscle.

Then, in a sudden, breathtaking action, he lightly spanked her left buttock. Sandy jerked, her legs kicking, her bound hands trying to fly to the point of impact and pain.

She breathed hard, surprised by the spank, shocked by other sensations, hitting in different ways. The sudden tightening, then releasing, tightening, then releasing in her sex.

Cause and effect. Pain and pleasure. Astonishing. But true, oh so true.

He spanked again, and the blow was hot, dark, exciting. Sandy circled her hips against the edge of the table, rubbing herself, trying to get some action and some pressure for her clit.

‘Naughty, naughty! Stay still,’ he chided, mock stern.

Sandy tried, she really tried, but it was as if there was a motor inside her making her move, winding her up, making everything tense and hum and gather. She worked her hips, and Jay laughed and slapped her harder.

Involuntarily, Sandy’s hands jerked, trying to get to her buttocks and her crotch. Trying to get to Jay and drag him to her and force him to touch her again or fuck her. Or just do anything …

Slap! Slap! Slap!

She whined behind the gag, wanting more. Slap! Slap! Slap!

She jiggled her hips, rubbing, working.

‘What do you want?’ Jay demanded, staying his hand and moving in close, fitting himself against her flaming buttocks, his cock like an iron knot prodding her anal
groove. In a swift efficient action, he pried open the bow on her gag and flung it away. The ball bounced once, then twice, then rolled under the table. ‘What do you want?’ he asked again, one hand in her hair now while the other slid over her back and her shoulders and her bound arms, curved and caressing.

Connections in Sandy’s brain weren’t working properly. Was it more pain she wanted, or pleasure? The ultimate pleasure she could get from Jay’s big cock?

She had no idea. She couldn’t speak. Maybe she wanted both? Maybe she wanted both at once?

Articulating with her body, she pressed back against him, inviting him, stretching against her bonds with her fingers to try and caress his cock.

Jay leaned right over her, his chest against her back, his groin pressed to the heat he’d created, and she felt his forehead touch the back of her head, as if it were bowed. As if he was awed by her.

‘My Princess, my Princess,’ he whispered.

For a moment he just rested there, as if lost in a fugue, frozen in time. Then with a swift sharp movement he reached down and snagged the twisted silken cord dangling from her body. He pulled, slow and firm and steady, unwavering, and Sandy groaned, her body quickening from the tug and the rolling pressure of the egg being withdrawn.

‘Oh God! Oh God!’ she whimpered, starting to come wildly just as he reached under her and stroked her clit as he continued pulling on the cord.

Immense pulsations of blinding pleasure swelled and crested in the cradle of her belly, sparkling and centring on her clitoris. Jay swept his fingers in circles, and she tossed her head, overwhelmed and sobbing, loving his touch.

With a pop, the egg was out of her, and Sandy soared again. As Jay flung it away and it bounced in the general direction of the gag, she rocked and struggled beneath him, uncoordinated, uncontrolled. Tugging at her bonds, she felt the restriction suddenly loosen, and the silken ties were a thing of the past too.

Her hands went to herself, to her needy clitoris, and to him, clasping and grasping at his thigh, his hip, scrabbling for touch, contact, any way she could hold him. Still over her, still pressed against her, she felt him searching in his pocket, and she gasped, ‘Thank God!’ when he drew out the item she’d been hoping for.