A Talent for Surrender (4 page)

Costas shuffled forwards on his knees. He bent his head and covered her pussy with his mouth.

The first moment of contact was pure and intense. Jo’s thigh muscles began to quiver involuntarily and her breathing quickened. Costas’s tongue travelled up and down the length of her slit. She felt him circling at her hole, pushing gently into her. It slid upwards, pausing to tease the sensitive opening to her urethra. Sometimes she made him drink piss directly from her cunt. No doubt he was thinking of this as he used the tip of his tongue to stimulate her there.

She gasped as his mouth found her clit. He covered it, spreading his lips and brushing his tongue across the tip. Jo knew it wouldn’t take long for her to come. Already heat and pleasure were radiating outwards from her groin and tingles were rocketing up and down her spine.

Costas concentrated on her clit, sucking it hard into his mouth and pinching it between his teeth as his tongue flicked across it. Jo began rocking her hips in response to his moving mouth, establishing a rhythm which he quickly followed. She watched Costas as he licked her. Every so often he would reach down with one hand and pull at the front of his trousers. His frustrated excitement heightened Jo’s arousal. She could feel her clit beginning to twitch in his mouth as she neared her peak.

Jo could see her nipples standing out hard and wrinkled. She ground her cunt against Costas’s mouth, responding to the rhythm of her need. His breath was hot against her wet pussy. His stubble felt scratchy and rough. The thought brought an image of Dan Elliot into her mind; five o’clock shadow darkening his masculine jawline and, for a moment, she could almost believe it was him and not Costas with his head between her legs.

Would he lick cunt as eagerly, or as well? Would he take the submissive role as willingly and naturally? She closed her eyes and thought of him, on his knees instead of Costas, his lanky body bent over and hunched as he lapped at her clit. She imagined his hair damp and floppy and the light glinting off his glasses. Or perhaps he’d take them off first, fold them carefully and put them away before he got down to work. As Costas’s tongue circled her clit she imagined Dan using his long fingers to spread her cunt and lash the swollen bud with his tongue.

Her hips rocked faster and faster. She ground her crotch against Costas’s face. The tension in her belly was intense and focused. Costas’s right hand moved away from her hip and, moments later, she felt his fingers pressing into her cunt. She arched her back and moaned as they entered her, three bunched fingers.

Would Dan enter her like that as he licked her? Perhaps he’d press an audacious finger against the wrinkled opening of her arsehole and push it inside just as she was about to come. Would he handle his cock, as Costas did, in unconscious excitement?

Jo was tingling all over. Her nipples prickled and throbbed. Her muscles were rigid. Her back was drawn into an arch.

Costas sucked hard on her clit as he circled his fingers against her G-spot. She was moaning and sobbing. She pulled her lips apart, stretching them to create tension on her clit, intensifying the sensation.

He sucked again and she pressed her heels into the carpet and raised her bottom off the edge of the sofa. With one slow deep thrust of her hips, she ground her crotch against his face.

Her clit began to dance in his mouth. Her already quivering body began to shake uncontrollably. The tension in her belly shattered like a dam bursting under the weight of the roiling water behind it.

Pleasure flooded over her, engulfing her and taking her breath away. Her cunt gripped his fingers as she came. His mouth was fastened over her clit, sucking the orgasm out of her. Her body bucked and bowed. Orgasm possessed her, one small peak after another building towards an apex she knew would be spectacular.

Costas sucked hard on her clit, riding it out with her. He was handling his crotch more frequently now, rocking his hips, unconsciously mimicking the action of his fingers inside her.

Jo began to sob. Each small orgasm raised the pitch of her arousal, building towards the big one. The gap between peaks was growing shorter. Her body was rigid and tense. She was gasping for breath, hyperventilating. She felt as though her cunt was vibrating in his mouth as the pressure built. Her muscles contracted over and over again, each throb and flutter bringing her closer to the exquisite moment of release.

Costas sucked at her taut clit, matching the rhythm of her pumping hips. She could hear him breathing heavily, snuffling and grunting, making little throaty, mewling noises of pleasure and excitement. She knew he was getting off on her arousal and growing loss of control. His cock must be agony now, trapped and hard and taut with blood.

The thought of his erection was all it took to bring her to the edge. She tilted her hips, forcing her clit against his mouth one last time. She held her position, body frozen as if she’d been petrified. She was howling. Pleasure coursed through her body like lightning.

She could feel her cunt gripping his fingers. He sucked on her clit. Looking down, she could see Costas’s eyes closed as if in prayer. His eyelids seemed to gleam in the light and his dark lashes fluttered as he licked her. He had one hand pressed up against his crotch. His hips rocked manically, rubbing his trapped erection against his fingers.

Her chest was heaving. Her muscles ached. As the peak subsided she became aware of an intense thirst and painful muscles. In an instant, her clit became hypersensitive and she instinctively drew away. She covered her crotch with one hand and cupped Costas’s face with the other.

He pushed his wet hair away from his face and shook his head, sending a shower of water droplets flying.

‘That felt incredible. I thought you’d never stop coming. You were hurting my fingers.’

‘I’ve had better.’ Her voice was an exhausted whisper and she could barely lift her head off the sofa.

Costas laughed. He ran his hands up and down her stocking-clad thighs. ‘I love making you come.’

Jo propped herself up on her elbows. ‘I could tell, actually. You could hardly leave your cock alone.’

Costas’s face coloured. ‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t deliberate. I just couldn’t help it. It’s your fault for being so damned horny.’

‘So you’re blaming me? You need to take responsibility for your own actions. I gave you an order. You disobeyed it. It’s quite simple, really.’

‘Yes, Ma’am, I’m sorry. I deserve to be punished.’ Costas was looking at the floor, his hands by his sides.

‘And you will be, I assure you. I haven’t decided how yet, but I’m sure you won’t forget it in a hurry.’

‘Thank you.’ Costas stroked her belly.

‘I suppose you want permission to come now?’

Costas shrugged, feigning indifference. ‘Only if you want me to.’ He looked down at his erection. ‘I can take it or leave it.’

Jo laughed. ‘Go on then, force yourself.’ She propped herself up on one elbow and watched as he undid his trousers and pushed them down to his knees. Then he stripped off his shirt.

Using his customary overhand grip, he cupped the helmet and began to slide his foreskin up and down. He let out a long hiss of satisfaction and relief. Jo could see that his scrotum was thickened, his balls contracted and tight. When the tip of his cock came into view, she could see that it was shiny and purple with engorged blood.

He reached between his legs with his free hand and began to finger his balls, kneading them inside their sac. He wanked himself rhythmically. On the down stroke his helmet seemed to rest beneath his palm for a moment before disappearing again under the foreskin.

Costas’s eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted. Jo could see his tongue, pink and glistening. His chest was heaving as he pumped his cock. His long nipples stood out hard and dark. Jo lazily reached out a hand and gave the nearest one a pinch, rolling it between thumb and forefinger and was rewarded by a momentary opening of his eyes and a smile.

His eyes snapped closed again and he was lost in his own world; a kingdom, Jo knew, in which cock and pleasure were all that existed. His right hand stroked his balls and his left moved rhythmically.

He was breathing noisily now, hissing and panting between groans. He pulled hard on his balls and turned his other hand and slid his foreskin down hard towards the base of his cock.

An are of sperm landed on the carpet. Jo watched, captivated, as semen landed on the floor and pooled there. His body was rigid, covered in sweat. Costas turned his face to the ceiling as his cock pumped out volley after volley of creamy spunk.

Sperm was dribbling down his cock and over his fist. His other hand still cupped his balls. He didn’t move for ages, long after he’d stopped shooting; he just knelt there, head bent back and chest heaving.

Jo watched as his breathing slowed and his muscles relaxed. He released his cock and opened his eyes. He brought his sperm-covered hand to his mouth and licked it clean. He turned to her and smiled. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’ She reached out and touched his softening cock. ‘It’s hard to believe it’s the same beast. What does it feel like to be attached to such a changeable bit of equipment?’

‘Do you know what Socrates said when he became impotent?’

She shook her head.

‘He said it’s like being unshackled from a maniac.’

‘Interesting. Perhaps that’s why you prefer me to keep yours under control.’

He shrugged. ‘It suits me. Let me check on our dinner.’ He stood up.

‘Good idea.’

He disappeared into the kitchen.

Jo turned and called after him. ‘And while you’re there you can get something to clean the spunk off the carpet.’

His head appeared around the kitchen door. ‘I bet you’re going to punish me for it, too, aren’t you?’

‘You’d be disappointed if I didn’t . . .’

Three

Dan walked up the path followed by his film crew. The house, a 1930s suburban semi, could have been in any town in any corner of England; a gravelled drive, a well-tended garden and a Range Rover parked outside. But this particular home, on the outskirts of Highgate, was host to a meeting of the Hellfire 2000 Club. Dan knocked on the door. His radio mike dug uncomfortably into his back and the reporter-light, mounted on the front of the camera, was making his eyes smart.

The evening, a birthday party for one of the members, was to be Dan’s first filmed session with the group and he really had no idea what to expect beyond the fact that the dress code would follow a fetish theme. He’d deliberately engineered it so that, when he knocked on the front door, it was his genuine first encounter with the group at play. His reactions would be real, natural and all the more effective on screen.

Though it was hardly natural being followed around by two cameramen, a soundman, a boom swinger and a production assistant, not to mention his co-producer, Sarah, Dan was so used to the team that he hardly noticed their presence.

Dan spoke directly into the camera. ‘I’m standing outside Madame Cyn’s house. She’s a founder member of the Hellfire 2000 Club, a group of individuals who are all active in the world of BDSM. That’s Bondage and Discipline, Domination and Submission, Sadism and Masochism to you and me. I’ve been invited along to her birthday party. I can hear music coming from inside, and so far it all seems pretty normal. But I’ve been told I should expect the unexpected and I’ve also been warned that the evening is strictly for adults only. So, if you’re of a squeamish disposition, perhaps you ought to change channels now. Let’s ring the doorbell and see what happens.’ Dan pressed the bell.

The team waited. Through the frosted glass, they saw a figure approaching down the hall in dark silhouette. The door was opened by a large middle-aged woman wearing a long black dress with a corseted bodice and a tall stiff collar that stood up behind her head. Her ample breasts were barely contained by the cups of her corset and wobbled precariously as she moved. Her long red hair was teased into an enormous lacquered edifice that puffed out around her face like a halo. She was heavily made-up with bright-blue eyeliner, glossy pink lipstick and harsh triangles of blusher on each cheek. To Dan’s eyes, the overall affect was like
Dallas
on acid; straight out of the 1980s and rather scary.

‘Dan, good to see you.’ She stepped forwards and kissed him on both cheeks. She was doing her best to act naturally; her smile was stiff and forced and her eye-line deliberately avoided the camera.

‘Happy birthday, Madame Cyn. Thanks for inviting me to your party.’

‘Come on in.’ She stepped aside and Dan and the team entered the house.

The team trooped down the narrow hall behind Dan and into the living room. He’d deliberately tried not to have any preconceptions but, if he’d been asked to visualise the scene in advance, Madame Cyn’s living room wouldn’t even have made the shortlist.

The décor was pink and the soft furnishings were Victorian and fussy, reminding Dan of the kind of brothel you only ever saw depicted in old Westerns where the whores sat around waiting for clients in frilly bloomers and corsets.

Dan could see Dave and Rick, the cameramen, panning around the room and taking it all in. Standing by the fireplace was a young couple in their twenties. Both of them had long dyed black hair flowing down to their waists and they were wearing identical black leather corsets. The woman wore a tiny silk thong but the man was naked underneath. Dan noticed his body hair had been shaved and he had a name in elaborate Gothic script tattooed above his bare pubis.

Their corsets ended under the bust and the woman’s small pointed breasts were displayed. Her nipples had been pierced with thick gold rings. The man’s were also pierced and he was wearing some kind of elaborate jewellery through them, like a filigree metal shield that completely covered his areolae and seemed to elongate his nipples.