Rich Pickings Read online

  “Would we have to go to the club again?” Again, I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head.

  “The Collar? Yes, probably. Sometimes. Is that a problem?”

  “It’s just that I don’t want to do things in public. I mean, when it’s only you and me I feel… I mean it’s…”

  He reaches across the table and takes my hand, turning it palm up to caress it with his fingertips. “Nothing will happen that you don’t want. I like to play in public from time to time, but I won’t insist on it if it makes you unhappy.”

  “So, where then? I mean, I live with Freya in Kendal…” I’m not entirely sure of the relevance of that, but my brain is on overdrive, hurling random thoughts around. I’m working hard to see how this would play out between us. As usual, I’m locked on to the details when it’s the major principles I should be considering. Will I or won’t I? Can I? Should I? I know that Dan works at the zoo in Cumbria and at Cartmel racecourse, so maybe he does live somewhere near to me. Always it’s the practicalities I hone in on.

  Dan chuckles. “Well, I suspect you’ll be living alone now. Freya’s moved in with Nick.”

  “Yes, she told me. But even so…”

  Dan squeezes my hand still lying between his palms. “Just say yes, love, and let me work out the kinks. Pun intended.”

  I gaze at him, and the silence stretches between us. He tilts his head, questioning, wondering. Hoping? And it’s that that settles it for me.

  “Yes. Yes please, Sir. I’d like that. I think.”

  “I think so too. I know I will. So, about your pubic hair…?”

  “My…?”

  “Well you started this. I prefer it waxed rather than shaved though. Less bristles that way.”

  “I’ve never… I mean, I don’t know how to…” I cross my legs instinctively. Waxing? There? Ouch.

  “It is possible to do a Brazilian wax yourself, but I think the first time it would be better to have it done professionally. That said, Nathan’s quite good at it.”

  “No! I mean, you wouldn’t…” It occurs to me he could insist, and I’d have to obey him. I’ve learned enough already to understand that’s how this works. Oh God, what have I done?

  “No, I wouldn’t. I doubt if he would either. Eva’d have his nuts in a vice if he so much as considered it. No, I suggest you ask Freya where she goes and book an appointment.”

  Thank God for that. “I see. Right, I will. Next week, when I’m back in Kendal.”

  “Good. So, little subbie, have you finished your coffee? Ready to go back to Nathan’s apartment and experiment a little more?”

  I nod, pushing my empty cup away. We stroll back out into the crisp morning. Dan takes my hand as we make our unhurried way along Clarence Dock.

  “Will you tie me to the cross? The one in the bedroom?” Now where did that come from?

  He glances at me, one eyebrow raised. “Would you like that?”

  I nod, hoping he’ll settle for that and not press me to elaborate. No such luck.

  “Front or back?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, do you want me to whip your front, your breasts, your clit, or your back. I prefer the front, but that can be a little intense. And you are just a beginner…”

  I glance up, startled, my head again spinning as the vivid imagery unfurls. He winks at me, his expression amused, wicked, lustful. Despite my nervousness, I grin back. My pussy is moistening already. This ‘regular sub’ business could really turn out to be rather nice.

  * * * *

  “Is that comfortable? Not too tight?”

  “I’m fine. I think.” I tug experimentally on the leather restraints securing my wrists to the two upper extremes of the St Andrew’s Cross. No give there. Dan crouches beside me to tighten the straps around my ankles. My legs are spread wide, the intent obvious. A good sign, I’m minded to think.

  Dan ordered me to strip as soon as we arrived back at the apartment. I complied, naturally. I was equally acquiescent when he instructed me to lean on the cross, facing it, and position myself in the restraints. Satisfied now that I am in place and ready, Dan pats me on the bum before turning away to open the chest at the foot of the bed. Craning my neck to see, I watch as he leans in to pick something up. He straightens, and I see he’s selected a suede flogger. It’s made up of a bunch of separate strands, each one tipped with a small bead. They click ominously against each other as he returns to my side, the flogger dangling from his hand.

  “Do you want me to tell you what’s going to happen? Or would you prefer me to just get on with it? In the future I’m not likely to offer you a choice, but I’m making allowances right now, in view of your inexperience.”

  How generous. I consider my options for a few moments. “Just do it please.”

  “Good choice. I will want to talk to you after, though. Now, I’m going to blindfold you.”

  It’s a statement rather than a question. He’s not asking permission, but even so I have just enough time to nod my agreement before he slips the blindfold over my eyes and my world goes black.

  “Safe words. Are they still red, amber and green?” He’s close up behind me, his breath brushing my neck as he talks to me.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Fine. Use them if you need to. Especially don’t hesitate to use amber. I’ll be happy to slow down, or explain. This is meant to be edgy, you’re meant to squirm a bit. But if you get scared, or it’s too intense for you, I want to know. Got that?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “God, I like you, Summer. You and your pretty little swallows.” I jump as he touches my bottom with, I think, the handle of the flogger. It feels hard, cool. He trails it up the edge of my right buttock, across my tattoos. “You still have faint stripes from yesterday. Very pretty, but I think we’ll avoid them today. I want your skin to heal properly before I spank you again.

  “That’s very kind of you, Sir. Very considerate.”

  “I’ll tolerate a little sarcasm from my subs, but not too much. You’re at your limit now, Summer. Remember that before you let your cheeky mouth get you in bother.”

  I detect the subtle shift in his tone, a cool hardness. His Dom voice. I know when to keep a low profile—learned that a long time ago.

  “I apologize, Sir. It won’t happen again.” I drop my head, slumping in my restraints. He said he’d just get on with it, yet here we are, still talking. Every time I open my mouth I seem to stick my foot in it. And he scares me far more with his words than with his whip.

  “Summer? You seem unhappy suddenly. Is something wrong?”

  “No, Sir. Please, I’m fine.”

  “Don’t lie to me. You’re not fine and I want to know why.” His tone is harder now, all Dom, all demanding. Stern and intolerant. He believes I’m lying to him, or deliberately evading his questions and either is unacceptable. Either will earn me a punishment.

  The situation is spiraling away from me and my heart continues to sink. How has this happened? Where did my easy confidence of a few moments ago disappear to? In the face of his implacable insistence I have no choice but to attempt to explain.

  “You’re angry, and that scares me. I want to please you, but I seem to irritate you without intending to.” I can hear the catch in my voice, the wavering that usually precedes tears. I don’t want to cry, not again, not now.

  He says nothing, appears to be waiting for me to finish. I can’t see him, but I feel his breath on my neck. I consciously raise my chin and stiffen my shoulders before continuing, “I don’t feel to be in control…”

  “You’re not in control. I am.”

  “But of me, of what I feel, what I do…”

  “You handed control to me. All of it. You can get it back with your safe words, but until you do, unless you do, I’m running this show and you just accept it. Take it. Don’t try to fight me, you’ve no need to. I’ll hurt you, because that’s what you need from me, some of the time at least, but I won’t harm you. Ever
. You can trust me.”

  His fingers are on my shoulders, both his hands so he must have put the flogger down. He massages my shoulders firmly. “Relax, Summer. Just relax and let yourself feel. Just be, and stop fretting.”

  I roll my head, my neck muscles stretching and releasing, and with that the crippling tension of a few minutes ago dissipates. My body loosens and melts under his probing, demanding caress, as though he’s drawing all my pent-up anxieties out through his fingers. He keeps up the motion for a few minutes, working his way down my spine to my buttocks. He slips one hand between my legs, probing through my wet folds to rub my clit before plunging two fingers inside me.

  “I think you’re enjoying yourself a little more now, Summer. Am I right?”

  “Yes, Sir.” My voice is a hushed murmur, but all trace of distress is gone. “That feels so good, Sir.”

  “Hot and tight. Your perfect little pussy, just waiting to be fucked. Am I right about that too?”

  “You are, Sir.”

  He withdraws his fingers, and I moan slightly as he steps away, the intimate, soothing contact broken.

  “All in good time. First, I have plans for you. Ten strokes I think. I’ll count, you concentrate on breathing. Breathe in before each stroke, and out afterwards. Clear?”

  “Yes, Sir. I’ll try.”

  “Summer?” Trying isn’t enough this time.

  “Yes, Sir, perfectly clear. I’m ready.”

  There’s a slight rustle of clothing, and I assume he’s bent to retrieve the flogger. It’s to be now then. The talking’s over at last. I remember my instructions and draw in a deep breath, wondering how long I’ll have to hold it for. Not long at all. A breath of air, just the merest whisper as the suede strands fly. I gasp as they connect with the tender skin across my shoulder blades. The beads sting, each one its own pinprick of pain, sharp and vivid but not too intense. I arch instinctively, but don’t cry out.

  “One. Breathe out now, Summer.”

  I do, releasing the air trapped in my lungs. Dan waits patiently while I refill them. The air shifts and whistles again as Dan aims the flogger, this time at a spot just below my shoulder blades. The sharp bite of the beads causes me to wince, but the strands themselves are gentle, soft on my skin. I hadn’t expected that. I sigh as I exhale, sagging into the large V space between the arms of the cross, relying on just the restraints to hold me up.

  “Two.”

  I breathe in, and hold, waiting for the swish of the flogger. Dan lays the strands across my lower back this time, slightly harder than before. I do cry out, but softly. He hasn’t hurt me, yet. Soon.

  “Three.”

  I let out my breath, draw in the next in calm anticipation.

  “Four. Five. Six.”

  I’m settled, comfortable in my rhythm. Dan’s increasing the intensity, but only marginally, maybe. I’m not entirely sure.

  “Seven.”

  I squeal, now I am sure. That was hard. That hurt.

  “Just wanted to make sure you were still awake.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Was that more sarcasm, Summer?” His tone is deceptively mild.

  “No, Sir. I’m sorry.”

  “Breathe in again, girl.”

  I do, and scream as the next stroke lands across my shoulders, the pain now sharp and burning as he flogs my tender, sensitized skin. I’m gasping, my body tensing, listening for the telltale whoosh that signals the next stroke.

  I hear it the merest moment before the pain explodes across my back.

  “Eight. The last two will be harder still. Ready?”

  I nod, unable to get any words out just in this moment. My skin is smarting and burning, each tiny point where the beads have struck me now tingling and throbbing. Two left? Only two? I can do this. I want this.

  The air shifts again as the flogger whistles its descent. I jerk, my head flying back. My eyes are wide open as I stare at the ceiling, but I don’t scream. That was harder, but the pain was less. I feel strangely welcoming of the next and final blow, wishing it wasn’t the last. Just as I’m beginning to love the sharp intensity of the beads striking my back and shoulders, to crave it, he’s about to stop.

  “More please.” Is that my voice, my breathy whisper?

  “One more, then we stop. With the flogger at least. I have lots more planned for you, though, greedy little sub. Breathe.” His voice is all Dom, stern and unrelenting. There will be no extending this experience, no point asking again.

  Obedient, I draw in a long, deep breath. The final stroke is excruciating. And wondrous, and uplifting. Liberating. I scream, but whether in pain or mindless joy I have no idea. I’m aware only of pure sensation, clean, sharp white-hot pain, an agony of pleasure.

  I’m hanging on the cross, my body suspended between pain and something else, something only now starting to unfurl. Something deeply satisfying, cleansing, almost spiritual. Even as I’m trying to process what’s happening, what I’m feeling, I sigh as Dan slides his fingers between my wide-spread legs. He strokes my slick, hot pussy tenderly. My wetness is smeared across his fingertips, and he spreads it everywhere. He slides upwards, backwards, between my buttocks to my arsehole. Without uttering a word he slips the tip of his finger inside, working the hole as he did yesterday. My resistance is non-existent, and in moments his entire finger is deep inside my arse.

  “Good girl. Now two.”

  I nod, though my consent is obvious. I’m groaning my pleasure, my delight at his gentle but insistent probing, and soon my arse is stretched to accommodate two fingers. He thrusts, and twists his hand to work me even looser before easing a third finger in. Now it’s hard, really difficult. I moan, he’s hurting me. He knows it, and his movements are slow, giving me time to adjust and to accept. I don’t ask him to stop. I want this. I know where this is leading, and I want all of it.

  The discomfort recedes as my arsehole relaxes, the muscles there loosening to accommodate Dan’s fingers. He leans in close to me, his body resting against my smarting, inflamed back as he reaches around me to caress my clit. It’s enough, more than enough. I orgasm instantly, shaking and quivering in the restraints as my body convulses. Dan thrusts his fingers deep, my arse now totally conquered and accepting the intrusion. He finger fucks me hard and sharp, and I’m astonished at how sweet it feels, how erotic. Intimate, profoundly personal, his connection to me emphasized, his possession assured, every other sensation intensified by the deep and unfamiliar penetration.

  My orgasm seems to go on and on, wave after wave of sensual pleasure thrumming through my veins. I shift, seeking more friction, harder, faster, deeper. Dan delivers, and my release soars again, shaking my core and blossoming through my outstretched arms and legs. Even my fingers and toes are tingling with pure delight. It’s carnal, animalistic almost. And the most intensely satisfying experience I have ever encountered. Sex with Dan has always been good, always left me purring, but this is on a different plane. Now, I’m flying.

  At last, at long last, the sensations fade, start to recede. I’m dimly aware that he’s withdrawn his fingers and is unfastening my restraints. His arm around my waist prevents me from collapsing in a heap at his feet. He bends to release my ankles, then lifts me. He places me on the bed, rolling me over onto my stomach. A sharp pat on my bum tells me to stay there. I’m going nowhere in any case.

  The sound of running water from the en suite tells me that Dan’s attention to hygiene is very much to the fore, and I’m grateful for it. He cares, takes responsibility for me. I’m beginning to understand why. This power transfer he talks about means he’s accountable. And I can simply abandon myself to him. I do. I have.

  Moments later he’s back. I turn my head, watch him quickly undress. His cock is huge, his erection solid and thick, and proudly pointing straight up. I’m eying it appreciatively as Dan snaps the foil on a condom and unrolls it along his length. Next he takes a tube of lubricant from the bedside table and quickly squeezes a generous blob into his
palm. He smears it over the length of his cock, coating the smooth latex before coming to kneel on the bed alongside me.

  “I want you on your hands and knees, legs spread wide.”

  I say nothing, just bend my knees to push myself up from the duvet.

  “If it’s more comfortable you can drop your shoulders down, as long as your bum’s in the air for me. Arch your back as I’ve taught you. Present your arse, girl.” Again, that stern, uncompromising Dom tone. But without menace.

  He knows what he’s doing. I trust him. His intent is obvious, and I have no hesitation in doing as he says. I’m beyond embarrassment. Humiliation is just a memory. I trust him to take care of me. As I lower my shoulders to the bed and lay my cheek against the pillow he takes the tube again and helps himself to another large dollop.

  “You’re already wet, but this is your first time. I intend to take good care of your sweet little virgin arse.” He spreads the slick, cool gel around my now loose and welcoming arsehole, then works it inside. Two fingers, then the third. It’s not painful this time, just pleasantly tight. I gyrate my hips in enthusiastic contentment.

  “Entering into the spirit. That’s what we like to see.” He pulls his fingers from my arse and moves to kneel behind me. “I’m going to go slow, and I’ll stop and wait whenever you need me to. You have your safe words. There’s no hurry. But I am going to be inside you. All, the way. You can take all of me, and you will. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir.” If he says so, though I already know he’s huge. This is not going to be easy. Despite all my good intentions I start to tense up.

  He knows straight away, his palms caressing my buttocks.

  “Trust me, love.” His words are soft, his fingers tracing the edge of my arsehole, teasing, arousing. Tantalizing.

  My body relaxes again, and he places the head of his cock inside my arse. Just the head, no more, the sphincter stretched tight around it. Three fingers felt large, this is more. Much more. He pushes forward, slow and smooth. Inch by careful inch he enters me.