A Talent for Surrender (10 page)

Sam was practically screaming now. Her normally sleek hair was tangled and messy. Her hips moved, her breasts bounced. A tight fist of excitement pulled at Jo’s belly. Her nipples burned.

Sam’s whole body stiffened. She was coming. Jo pinched her nipples, digging in her fingers and pulling on them. The screaming became urgent and frenzied. Sam brought her bottom up off the bed, pressing her crotch against Adam’s face.

Jo turned to look at him. She could see muscles and tendons standing out in his forearms as he tried to hold onto Sam. His body glistened.

Though his cock wasn’t visible, Jo knew it would be rigid and purple. She pictured a bead of pre-come glittering in its single eye. She bet he was desperate to plunge into Sam and take his pleasure.

Jo’s heart pounded. Sam circled her hips, grinding her crotch against Adam as she came. Her bottom was raised off the bed. She was screaming, a single high note of pleasure and exhilaration. Jo pinched Sam’s nipples.

Without warning Sam brought up her hands and covered Jo’s and she pulled them away.

‘Stop . . . stop. It’s too sensitive.’ Sam’s voice was weak and breathless. She pulled away from Adam. She propped herself up on her elbows, smiling. ‘Well . . .’ Sam’s voice was breathless and weak. ‘Aren’t you a clever boy?’

Adam sat back on his heels. ‘Happy birthday.’ He pushed his damp hair off his face. He looked at Jo then down at his cock. ‘Can I do anything for you, Jo? Even though it isn’t your birthday?’

‘Climb up here and lie down.’ Jo slid across the bed.

‘If you two don’t mind, I’m going to take a shower . . .’ Sam stood up. ‘Oooh, my head’s all swimmy and my legs feel like rubber.’ She walked haltingly towards the bathroom.

Adam stood up and slid off his panties. He lay down on the centre of the bed. His erection was huge and purple, pointing at the ceiling. His hard muscles gleamed. His face was flushed. Jo’s nipples were tingling and sensitive. Her crotch was tight and aching.

She got onto her knees and straddled his body. She used both hands to position his cock. She let out a long deep sigh as it began to fill her. It was fat and hard and hot. She felt it sliding past her muscles, enlivening and exciting every nerve ending.

‘I don’t think I’m going to last very long. Watching you with Sam has got me all worked up.’ Jo wriggled her hips.

‘Me too. I’m fit to burst. And you look so horny in just your corset and stockings.’ Adam ran his hands along her thighs.

‘Thanks. But I’m not sure you deserve to come, actually.’

‘Don’t be cruel . . .’ He rubbed her nipples.

‘Why not? We both know it’s what you like.’ Jo rocked her hips, riding his cock.

Jo’s crotch felt liquid and tight. Adam’s cock stretched and filled her. She could feel his thighs, hard and thick between her legs. The corset clasped her middle in its firm grip.

Adam stroked his fingertips up and down her thighs. She bent forwards and kissed him. His mouth was hot and wet. She could feel his beard stubble against her skin. Her breasts were squashed inside the corset. Her nipples tingled. Adam put his hands on her buttocks. He rocked his hips up to meet her thrusts.

Heat and arousal pumped round her bloodstream. His mouth was meltingly soft and fiery hot. His stubble rasped her skin. She rode his cock.

Wet skin slid against wet skin. Adam’s fingers dug into her buttocks. She gave him a final kiss and sat up. She pushed down the front of her corset, freeing her breasts. She grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands up to her chest. His fingers found her nipples.

She gasped as he began to pinch. Her nipples burned with pleasure and pain. Every sensation seemed to be instantly transmitted directly to her crotch.

‘That looks like fun.’ Sam came out of the bedroom and sat down on the bed. ‘I’ll have to try it myself later.’ She slid across and knelt beside Jo. She ran her fingers up and down Jo’s back. Jo sighed.

She moved slowly up and down. Adam’s thick cock slid inside her. He pinched her nipples hard, pulling on them and elongating her breasts. She was tingling all over. Sam’s fingers stroked her back, barely making contact. It felt shivery and tingly and intense. Her nipples prickled in response.

Jo’s crotch felt hot and tight. Her clit was sensitive and hard. She tilted her hips backwards and forwards as she rode him, causing delicious friction.

Adam rotated his hips up to meet her, following her rhythm. He looked up at her, his eyes shining and intense. Her breasts bounced. Adam gave her nipples a final squeeze and put his hands back on her hips. She felt him bending his knees. He brought his hips up hard, meeting her thrusts.

Sam’s hand slid down her spine and onto her buttocks. She ran a fingertip down the cleft between Jo’s cheeks, making her moan. She stroked each buttock with the flat of her hand. She kneaded and squeezed.

‘Does that feel good?’ Sam’s voice was thick with arousal. She slid her hand underneath. Jo felt Sam’s fingertips on her cunt. She gasped. She felt Sam’s fingers circling the edge of Adam’s cock. Jo’s body quivered. Sam’s fingers explored the cleft between her buttocks. They teased the margin of her arsehole.

Jo was trembling all over. She was breathing in huge noisy gulps. Her nipples ached. Adam’s cock felt huge and hot and hard inside her.

She felt Sam’s slender fingertip sliding past her sphincter. She let out a long strangled sob. Her clit instantly responded. It tingled and burned. She leaned forwards and gripped the top of the bed’s iron rails.

Adam looked up into her face. She ground her crotch against his, pulling on the rails for leverage. The bed creaked and rattled. Sam’s finger fucked her arse. She could feel Adam’s balls against her buttocks.

Her long hair fell forwards into Adam’s face. A strand went into his mouth and he turned his head to free it. He looked up at her, his eyes narrowed and his lids gleaming in the light.

She was tingling all over. Her hips hammered. She felt Sam slide a second finger into her arsehole. Her back arched, her body bucked. The headboard banged against the wall.

Adam was grunting and panting. His eyes glittered. His fingers dug into her flesh. His cock was rigid inside her.

Her breasts bounced. She pulled hard on the rails, grinding her crotch against his. Sam’s fingers fucked her arsehole, matching the rhythm of Adam’s cock. She was vibrating with pleasure and excitement.

Jo was sobbing and moaning. The bed clanged against the wall. Adam’s hands pulled her onto him. His hips pumped. She rode his cock. Sam’s fingers slid in and out. The dam burst.

She pulled hard on the rails. She ground her crotch against his. Adam gripped her buttocks, his hands locked and rigid. He gave a final deep thrust and circled his hips, pumping out hot sperm. She quivered and shook.

‘I can feel you coming . . .’ Sam circled her fingers inside Jo.

Adam gazed up at Jo, his eyes wide and glassy. Wave after wave of pleasure gripped her, each more intense than the last. Tingles rocketed up and down her spine. Her muscles gripped his cock.

A final intense wave of pleasure gripped her. She gazed down at Adam. Her hair covered his face and he was glistening with sweat.

‘I love it when you come for me . . .’ His voice was hoarse and breathless. He circled his hips.

She collapsed on top of him. He reached up and pushed her hair out of her eyes. He wiped her damp face with his fingers. She bent her head and kissed him softly on the mouth then slid off his cock. Sam lay down beside them.

‘Well. Don’t you look a happy boy?’ Jo kissed Adam’s nipple. ‘Like a cat with two tails.’

‘No . . . more like a tail –’ Sam stroked his softening cock ‘– with two cats.’

Six

On Saturday while Jo was eating breakfast Costas let himself into the flat.

‘I’ve brought up the post. You’ve got an interesting-looking parcel.’ He put the mail on the table and went over to the cupboard for a cup. He poured himself a coffee and sat down.

Jo picked up the package and turned it over in her hands. ‘I think I know what it is . . .’ She slit the padded envelope open with her knife and tipped out the contents. A pile of novels slid onto the table.

Costas picked up one of the books. ‘Oh, it’s your author’s copies of your latest book. It looks good.’

Jo had been writing erotica since her teens and had been published in
Forum, For Women
and a couple of specialised fetish magazines. Five years ago, Costas had suggested that she have a go at writing a novel. At first, it had seemed an impossible task but, after a couple of chapters, she seemed to find her voice.

It was liberating and exciting to be able to describe human sexuality in more depth than a six-thousand-word story normally allowed. She could give her characters real depth and complexity. She could explore the erotic journey that they made together and show how each step of the voyage brought them closer to the terrifying bottomless intimacy which, Jo knew, lay at the heart of kinky relationships.

Her first book had been a modest success and, with each successive novel, her popularity had increased. Rosalind Quirt, as she called herself, had a dedicated and growing group of fans.

Jo often wondered if any of the parents or governors had read her books. She imagined them being aroused by her words, maybe even masturbating as a result, never even knowing that it was Jo’s writing that was turning them on. It gave her an illicit thrill and delicious feeling of power.

She drained her coffee cup and picked up a book. On the cover, a woman stood with her back towards the camera. Only her parted legs and bottom were in the picture. She wore long shiny boots and a tiny pair of leather shorts. Her hands were behind her back and she was holding a vicious-looking riding crop in both hands. Between the A of her parted legs could be seen the figure of a shackled hooded man on his knees.

‘You’re right. It looks great. Pass me that pen and I’ll sign one for you.’ Jo ate the last bite of toast and wiped her fingers clean on her napkin.

‘Thanks. I always find your books . . . inspiring.’ He passed her the pen.

She opened the book and leafed through it until she found the dedication page. She signed it and handed it to Costas.

‘Oh, you’ve dedicated it to me! Thanks.’ He smiled at her. ‘I had no idea you’d done that . . . “for Costas Metaxas, my friend and muse”. I really am honoured.’

A few days later Dan and the crew turned up at Sadie’s house to film one of her sessions. Dan had tried not to have any preconceptions about the day, but, as they turned into her street in a quiet suburb of Wembley and drove slowly along trying to read the numbers on the doors, the well-kept Victorian terraced houses gave no hint that one of them housed a modern dungeon.

When they found the right number they parked the van and Dan got out and walked up the path, leaving the crew to unload the gear. Because space was tight in Sadie’s dungeon they’d decided to use a single camera, rather than the usual two. You got better coverage with two cameras and didn’t have to spend time doing cutaways, but a single operator and soundman would be less intrusive and wouldn’t interfere with the flow of the session.

He rang the bell and almost immediately he saw a dark figure approaching down the hall. The image was indistinct and distorted by the frosted glass of the front door, but he didn’t think it was Sadie. The figure was too broad and it seemed to have an odd lumbering gait.

The door opened. Dan was right; it wasn’t Sadie. It was a tall chubby middle-aged man dressed in a pair of black rubber shorts and an upper-body harness. Around his ankles he wore metal shackles connected by eighteen inches of sturdy chain. No doubt that explained his unusual walk, Dan thought. Though he couldn’t have explained why, the sight of the man’s get-up quickened Dan’s heart and made his cock tingle.

‘Good morning, Mr Elliot. Mistress Sadie has instructed me to take you to her dungeon.’

‘OK.’ Dan looked back down the path to the van. ‘I don’t think my colleagues are quite ready, though.’

‘I’ll come back for them, sir. My orders are to take you directly to the mistress.’

Dan stepped into the hall. The man turned and walked towards the back of the house and Dan immediately realised that two round panels had been cut out at the back of his shorts, exposing a circle of pale hairy buttock on each side. His ankle chain clanked as he moved and he was forced to walk in short shuffling steps.

The man opened a door under the stairs and motioned Dan to go through. Inside there was a steep flight of steps. Dan held onto the handrail and walked down carefully and the man followed after him. At the bottom there was a closed door. Dan tried the handle but it appeared to be locked.

‘It’s got an electronic lock . . . let me.’ The man reached forwards and punched a six-digit code into a numerical keypad. Dan heard the lock click open and the man turned the handle. ‘Mistress Sadie is waiting for you in the room at the far end. I’ll go and get your crew.’

Dan stepped through the door. Inside it was dimly lit by wall sconces that mimicked flaming medieval torches. The walls had been painted to resemble stone and the floor had heavy rough flagstones. He could smell something perfumed and exotic, incense probably, or scented oil. He began to walk along the short corridor and was surprised by how loud his feet sounded.

There was a door on either side of the hall, the first was ajar and Dan could see that it was a changing room, like in a sports club with lockers and benches. He opened the other door and saw a basic bathroom, with a sink and separate shower and toilet cubicles and a pile of fluffy towels in a rack.

The door at the end of the corridor was wooden and heavy with black wrought-iron banding and studs, like an ancient door to a church or castle. Dan wouldn’t have been the slightest bit surprised if it creaked like a sound effect from a Hammer horror movie when you opened it. Ever since he’d passed through the electronic door his heart had been beating double time and his mouth had gone dry.