Rich Pickings Page 4

  “I’ve changed my mind. I think I’d prefer you on your back. Roll over please.”

  I do so without hesitation, although the pressure on my bottom as I settle my weight again is uncomfortable, both inside and out. Without waiting for his instruction I place my hands back in the restraints, and this time he tightens them around my wrists. He tests the fit to make sure I’m securely held but my circulation is not compromised. Needless to say, he is entirely satisfied on both counts.

  “Lift your bum up please.”

  I do as he asked, and he shoves two pillows under me, raising my hips up off the bed. I hiss with the sharp pain as my tender bum rubs against the crisp, freshly laundered cotton of the pillowcases. He quirks his lip in wry acknowledgment, but he says nothing more on the subject of my delicate condition. Instead, he’s ready to get on with the real business of why we are here. “Open your legs. I want to check if you’re still ready for me.”

  I suspect there’s little doubt on that particular score, but I spread my thighs dutifully. I’m every bit as keen as he seems to be to make progress. More so perhaps.

  He draws a long, slow, open-handed caress along my pussy, from front to back. His fingertips slide between my folds and he manages to dip the end of his middle finger into my cunt as he passes. It feels wonderful, the caress intimately casual, and I groan my approval.

  “Mmm, what a randy little slut you are, Miss Jones. And so tight, just as I remember noticing this morning. So wet and hot too. Have I been keeping you waiting by any chance?”

  “That’s quite alright, Sir. But if you wouldn’t mind perhaps…” Two can play at being polite. Well, for a while at least. I’m in imminent danger of forgetting my manners entirely as he slips three fingers into my slick cunt and thrusts hard.

  “Oh, God. Sir! Please.”

  “Okay, Miss Jones, I get the message.” He pulls his fingers out of me and stands, grinning at my obvious discomfort and impatience as he slowly unbuttons his dress shirt.

  He removed his cuff links earlier and rolled up his sleeves to deal with my virgin bum, but now he slips off the shirt and drops it on top of the chest at the foot of the bed. I’m struck again by the sheer masculine perfection of his torso, the firm planes of his muscles as he moves around the room, adjusting lamps and unzipping his gray trousers. His skin is a darker shade than mine, his forearms maybe slightly more tanned than the rest of him, suggesting he spends a lot of time outdoors with his sleeves rolled up. I suppose zoo vets have to go to their patients—it would be tricky getting a giraffe into the compact surgery at the animal park.

  I forget to breathe for a few moments as he drops his trousers and dumps them on the chest too. He isn’t wearing socks or shoes, so I assume he left them out in the living room. In just his boxers, which are made of some sort of silky, shiny fabric, his erection looks immense, jutting out, tenting his pants. If I was not tied to the bed I would be unable to resist tugging the waistband down to reveal it, maybe even sink to my knees at his feet again, this time to suck on it. But all of that is not to be. I can only lie here and watch and wait.

  Dan settles himself alongside me on the bed, propped up on his elbow as he looks down at me, spread out for his use.

  “Christ, you are utterly lovely. So sexy, so perfectly submissive. Where have you been hiding all this?”

  I don’t know if he expects an answer to that, but I have no chance in any case. He dips his head to take my nipple in his mouth and sucks on it gently. Instinctively I tense, expecting to feel the pinch of his teeth, anticipating the sharp tang of pleasure mixed with pain which I now associate with Dan’s touch. It doesn’t happen. His lips are achingly tender as he rubs them across my sensitive peaks, first one, then the other. He settles in, using his tongue to deepen the caress. I gasp, arching my back. Without releasing my nipple, Dan slips his hand between my thighs again and takes hold of the finger grip on the butt plug. He shakes it lightly, sending ripples of pure sensation pulsating through my arse. It feels good. Odd, but good. Better than good even as the sweetly intimate vibration tingles inside me. Amazing what my body can do, can accept and achieve once my head stops its puritanical finger-wagging.

  And talking of fingers, Dan’s are busy. He slides three of them deep into my pussy, pressing hard against the butt plug filling my rear channel whilst angling his hand so that the heel of it is resting on my clit. He rubs hard, scissoring his fingers inside my cunt as he does so. My orgasm hits out of almost nowhere, surging up and overwhelming me in seconds under his unrelenting caresses. My nipples, my clit, my pussy, my arse, all are engaged and sensuously connected. The sensations sizzle through me as I writhe under him, stretching against the restraints but with no wish at all to be free. Being bound removes all inhibitions, as though none of this is under my control. Which of course it isn’t, as long as I leave my safe words conveniently out of it. Red and amber can mind their own business for now. I’m having fun, lots of fun, and it seems that Dan’s only mission at this moment is to deliver plenty more of the same.

  He releases my nipple as the tremors of orgasm slide away and my body stills again. Shifting his position he trails a line of nibbling little kisses down my stomach to my pale colored, tight pubic hair. He mutters something which sounds a bit like ‘natural blonde’ as he noses his way through the soft curls, but by now I think most of the blood has rushed to my clit and nothing from my neck up works that well. I couldn’t care less, only intent on lifting my hips to allow him better access. He takes the hint, for once not making me wait or beg or even ask nicely. He takes my swollen, throbbing clit between his lips and holds it there as he flicks the tip with his tongue. It’s a delightfully effective little trick, quite a party piece in fact as I come again, instantly. This time my release is even more powerful, my entire body shaking as the waves of ecstasy roll through me, from my hot, throbbing core and away through my outstretched limbs. I hear a voice, which has to be mine because Dan’s mouth is completely occupied.

  “Oh God. Oh God. Oh…”

  His fingers are inside me again—just two, I think, sliding in and out. Fast. He hits my G-spot each time, drawing out the pleasure. One orgasm? Maybe. Or it could be several, one after the other. Who knows? Who cares? I shake and moan and throb and thrust my hips, and Dan does the rest.

  At last he stops. Or allows me to stop. I’m spent, floppy as a wet dishcloth, my eyes closed as I concentrate on drawing in some much-needed oxygen. I’m only vaguely aware of the sound of foil snapping, the bed shifting under Dan’s weight as he moves. I lie still, utterly relaxed, convinced that at some stage soon the room will stop spinning. Or maybe just the bed will. Either would be fine.

  “Open your eyes, my little slut.”

  “I can’t,” I murmur my protest, sure that even lifting one eyelid is quite beyond me.

  He responds by slipping the head of his cock into my pussy, stretching my entrance but not pressing home. That gets my attention and my eyes shoot open. He is poised above me, his soft smile both sexy and caring. How can he manage to combine rampant lust with aching tenderness? I can’t fathom it, but he does, and in a way which is uniquely him.

  I smile back. It seems appropriate. He shifts, and plunges forward to plant his cock deep inside me.

  My head is thrown back in silent appreciation, and he takes the opportunity to sink deep, open-mouthed kisses into my neck. He reaches up to cover my still bound hands in his, lacing his fingers through mine. As he draws his hands and mine back down the bed I realize that I’m free, and in a sudden and unexpected burst of energetic enthusiasm I push against him. He takes the hint immediately and rolls onto his back, pulling me on top. For once I have the opportunity to be the aggressor, to be active, to take the lead. I relish my unaccustomed freedom, straddling him and bracing my knees on the bed in order to pump my hips up and down. My erratic motion lacks Dan’s practiced ease, but is effective even so. I squeeze my pussy around him, loving the feeling of fullness each time I sink down on his shaft, the sens
e that I am stretched and somehow re-formed around him. Re-made to fit him exactly. In every way.

  Heady stuff, and my mind is reeling almost as much as my body as I gyrate my hips and thrust ever more frantically. Dan reaches down, takes the finger grip of the butt plug in his hand again and shakes it sharply. It feels incredible, rammed up hard and tight against his huge cock, just a slender and sweetly sensitive piece of my body separating the two. I can feel him, everywhere, in every way.

  I use my hands to press against his chest and push myself upright. I glance down at him through half-closed eyelids, my breasts now jiggling prettily in front of his face. That fact seems not to be lost on him as he leans forward to lick each of my nipples in turn. He lies back, his grin pure sensuality now. His right hand continues to swirl the butt plug inside me as his left slides between us to caress my clit again. And I lose it. I’m flying, in orbit, shaking, convulsing, spasming around his cock as my orgasm ricochets through me again. I might be screaming. Someone is. The sound continues, lowering to a deep, contented moan as the sensations subside to just a delicious, satisfying flutter of nerve endings re-aligning themselves.

  As my climax fades I’m aware of Dan’s low moan, more a growl perhaps. His hands are on my hips, holding me in place as he thrusts upwards. His movements are sharp, driving fully into me. His cock twitches hard, the guttural sounds deep in his throat a clear indication that he is also close. I squeeze my muscles around him, roll my hips in a slowly, deliberate motion, instinctively seeking to offer whatever will enhance his pleasure. He clasps me around the waist, holding me close against him as he lurches his upper body up to press his chest against my breasts. One final spearing movement and his cock is buried in me to the hilt. He goes still, holding me motionless as his hot semen fills my pussy.

  When he relaxes his grip and sinks back onto the mattress I fall forward, my breasts pressed against Dan’s chest. He takes that opportunity to give the butt plug a sharp tug, and I gasp once more as it pops out. Dan tosses it onto the floor before wrapping his arms around me.

  “It’s your job to clean that. Later.”

  I snuggle against him, loving the feel of his cock still buried deep inside me. It’s an intimate moment, deeply personal. Maybe Dan feels it too as he doesn’t rush to disengage, just allows me to sag against him and drink in the contented bliss of an exquisite experience shared.

  All good things must end, though, and at last he places his hands on my hips to gently lift me from him. I murmur my discontent, but he ignores me. He quickly removes the condom and drops that next to the butt plug—another of my jobs perhaps? Then he somehow shifts us both to free the duvet from underneath us. He pulls me back on top of him to hold me close again, dragging the quilt over us.

  And that’s all I remember.

  * * * *

  I wake up early the next morning, pleasantly stiff, to find Dan Riche snuggled up close to my back. He’s warm, hard and solid, his arm slung loosely across my ribs anchoring me in place. I wriggle backwards, easing closer to him, and his arm tightens. His fingers brush my breast, the caress sensual even in sleep. I lie in blissful remembering, reliving each moment of last night’s encounter. The soaring heights and the more challenging bits. With the distance of a few hours’ sleep, and when set next to the unbelievable intensity of the orgasms he gave me, even the humiliation of having the butt plug inserted seems trivial now. He couldn’t have taken me to those heights, I suspect, had he not previously scared me, jarred my senses. Mastered my resistance.

  I’m beginning to understand, maybe a little, what submission means. What this lifestyle offers. What it was that Freya found, and once discovered wouldn’t let go no matter what the disappointments along the way. It’s a powerful discovery, liberating even. I lie on my side, listening to Dan’s quiet breathing behind me. I’m content to be still, to just wait, and…

  I catch sight of the discarded butt plug and condom still lying on the floor alongside the bed. I stare at them, remembering Dan’s words from yesterday. ‘Your job’. I was supposed to tidy things up. I didn’t. Nothing so remarkable there perhaps. I was tired after all. With good reason. And comfortable, content to just drift off to sleep. So I left them.

  I left them there. Me, I left the mess there, just forgot about it and went to sleep. Me, the compulsive tidier. Me, the sad person who packs her bag with meticulous care and only yesterday morning spent ten minutes straightening the toiletries in Dan’s bathroom cabinet while he waited for me in his bedroom. I just fell asleep. As if none of it mattered, as if it could all wait till morning.

  Which of course it could, if you were anyone but me. Everyone else would do just as I did and think nothing of it. But that’s not me, I know something is different. Something’s changing. My values, my habits, my beliefs. My priorities. And on that note, my bladder makes its presence felt. I need the loo. I ease myself out from under Dan’s possessive arm as carefully as I can, not wanting to wake him. Extricated, I slip from the bed, stop to pick up the items on the floor, then head across to the door in the corner which I assume must house the en suite facilities.

  It does, and I quickly accomplish what’s necessary. I leave the butt plug to dry on the windowsill, not sure where Dan—or Nathan—usually keeps such things, then emerge intending to slide back into bed. I decide instead to go on a coffee hunt. My bag is still out in the living room so I borrow a large bathrobe I find hanging on the back of the door and pad barefoot out of the bedroom.

  It only takes a few minutes to locate the coffee and a cup, and soon I’m seated on the arm of the sofa, looking out of the huge picture windows at the Leeds skyline, hugging a mug of steaming, black, heavily sweetened caffeine. There’s no milk in the fridge so I have to manage without that. I can see that this apartment block is set among other similar buildings, ranged along the banks of a river. The Aire? The development is clearly some sort of shopping or tourist destination as well as up-market apartments, with designer shops and eateries. Pizza Express, a tapas bar, a casino.

  I can even see a Tesco Express at the end of the row—they’d have milk. I could throw some clothes on and nip down there.

  I’m digging through my bag for underwear when Dan ambles out of the bedroom, clearly lured by the aroma of my finest instant coffee.

  “Morning, beautiful. I wondered where you’d got to.”

  “I needed the loo. And some coffee. I was just about to go out for some milk.”

  “No need. It’ll have been delivered by now. Did you check in the lobby?” He drops a kiss on the top of my head as he strolls past to grab a mug from the cupboard.

  “The lobby? No. Should I?”

  “Yup. I phoned ahead yesterday, asked security to leave us a few essentials. They should have been brought up overnight. The key card’s on the table by the door. Would you mind checking?”

  I pad over there and open the door. Sure enough, in a neat cardboard box outside the door, are a collection of groceries, plus a copy of yesterday’s Horse Racing News. I heft the box up and bring it back inside with me. I dump it on the kitchen worktop, and pull out the newspaper.

  “Yours?”

  He takes it from my outstretched hand. “Yes. Thanks. I never had time to get a copy yesterday. Meant to nip out first thing, before the wedding, but I was waylaid.” He grins at me in a manner I could only describe as lecherous, and my pussy starts its habitual clenching and moistening at the mere mention of yesterday’s fun and games. Ho hum.

  “Are you keen on racing then?” I’m thinking he and Freya might have a lot in common, what with her newly discovered fondness for matters of the turf. And buying racehorses.

  “More of a professional interest, though I do enjoy an occasional flutter.” He puts his mug down to open the paper, spreading it out on the worktop. You already know I’m a vet, specializing in exotics and large animals. The zoo, obviously, that’s one of my jobs, and I do some work with farm animals though not a great deal. I’m also one of the course vets at Cartmel,
hence…” He gestures to the racing journal.

  “Oh. Right. I see. Racing and zoos? Sounds fascinating.”

  “Hmm, sometimes. It has its glamorous side I suppose but I spend most of my time on a race day doing random blood tests and peering at hooves. There’s the occasional drama, but that’s not usually of a pleasant nature.”

  “Oh, right. I suppose not. Do you prefer the zoo then?”

  “It’s just different. Lots more variety, obviously. I get to deal with rhino diarrhea and giraffe laryngitis…”

  “That’d be a tall order…”

  “Ha ha. Good one. I’ll write it down. Is there any milk in that box?

  I hand him the carton. “So you don’t do cats and dogs then?”

  “Not as a rule. Some wildlife occasionally. Members of the public quite often bring injured hedgehogs and such things to the park. The occasional badger…” He flashes me a wry grin. “If I’m around I do some patching up before handing them on to the RSPCA.”

  I regard him with renewed respect. I’d been so glad of his help the night I ran over Bryan the badger, but I didn’t appreciate that he regularly did such freebies for animals that had no one else to help them. This is a humanitarian side to Dan Riche I hadn’t really suspected. He catches my astonished expression.

  “Why look so surprised. Just because I gave you a hard time doesn’t mean I’m not nice to little furry creatures. Is there anything to eat in that box?”

  “Cereals. A few of those little individual packets. And some bread. We could make toast. And, you didn’t give me a hard time. Not really.”

  “No? I’m slacking then. What about eggs? Bacon?”

  I double check, but I’m not optimistic. “No. Nothing like that. I saw a Tesco down by the dock. I could go down there?”

  “No, it’s alright. Toast will be fine. Do we have butter?”

  I slap the small carton on the worktop. “Can I ask you something? Something that’s been puzzling me for a long time?” Dan’s reference to Bryan has reminded me of that day, our very first meeting.