Faith (10 page)

“Shh, love. Nothing you won’t like, I promise.”

His word is good enough for me. I allow him to manoeuvre me further back onto the desk until my bum is balanced on the edge. I think he must be standing, though I can’t see through the dark cotton covering my face. He unfastens my jeans and slides them down my legs. I am naked to all intents and purposes, spread out on his desk like one of those site maps he’s so fond of perusing. I suspect I shall soon be receiving similarly close attention.

There’s a scraping sound. He’s moved his chair. Is he sitting again? I curl my lips inward around my teeth, determined not to say anything, striving to not express any of the nervousness I’m feeling. I can trust Ewan, I know I can.

“I have something for you.” His voice is soft, a gentle murmur.

“What is it?” I detect a breathiness in my voice. I wonder if Ewan hears it too.

“A toy. A nice one. You
will
like it. First though, we need to prepare you to receive it.”

Right. I know what’s coming now, apart from me in due course. My body relaxes as he lifts my legs and spreads them, opening me wide. Despite having worked out the plot, I still jerk as his lips connect with my inner thigh, trailing a feathery path from knee to that little hollow where leg meets groin. There he stops, only to repeat the slow, tantalising caress on the other side. Again he ends his exploration just as my pussy quivers in eager expectation.

There’s a coolness, a whisper of air. He’s blowing on my clit. I groan, desperate for the touch of finger or tongue against that twitching, pulsing little peak.

“Are you alright, Faith?” His tone now is casual, conversational. Any moment now he’ll ask me to pass him his calculator. I let out an indignant squeal. I know he’s playing with me, he knows I love it. Christ, how much longer before he…?

“Aagh. Oh, my God, Ewan!” I shriek as he takes my clit between his finger and thumb and squeezes it hard. It hurts, but at the same time my pussy is spasming and drooling. I’m so wet I can feel the wetness beneath my buttocks, damp and slick.

“I have something here that will look so pretty inside your cunt. Shall we try it?”

“Yes. God, yes!” I’m thrusting my hips upwards, seeking some sort of contact, anything to relive this gnawing, empty ache deep within. I sigh in abject gratitude as he parts my labia, his touch slow and careful. Can’t he be rough with me? Just for once. I need this, need him so badly.

“I lubed this earlier, but you’re so fucking wet I don’t think I need have bothered. You are such a slut, Faith. One sexy little whore. Isn’t that so?”

He’s the one studying my sopping, swollen cunt. If he says I’m a slut, I daresay he’s right. Personally, I’m past caring. I just want something inside me. The bigger, the harder, the better.

Ewan does not disappoint. I arch my back, my mouth gaping open in the confining privacy of my vest as he slides something into my pussy. It’s cool, wide, smooth, my entrance stretches around it. He splays one palm, fingers open, across my lower abdomen as with the other hand he buries the dildo inside me, right to the hilt. I feel the slight bump as it nudges my cervix. Ewan knows too, and doesn’t press any further.

“You have such a tight little cunt, I thought you might appreciate this. Is it hurting you?”

I shake my head. I’m full, my inner walls straining around this hard, solid intrusion. But it feels good, offering satisfaction, a promise of intensity, and of challenge.

“Good. When you’ve had enough, tell me.”

“What? I’m not…” This is a new development. What does he know that I don’t?
Lots, probably.

“This will be intense. Just say ‘enough.’ Or ‘stop’ if it gets too much for you. Okay?”

“Yes.” My reply is whispered as I place my trust in him.

I jerk, my own movement violent as vibrations erupt within my cunt. I was expecting this, but the reality is vivid, rich, an exquisite, throbbing brilliance buried deep inside my body. I groan, arching into the sensation.

“Nice?”

I manage a nod.

“A little more, perhaps?”

Another nod. I brace for it.

The vibrations increase a little, becoming more powerful now, the ripples nibbling at my clit. I gasp, squeezing my inner muscles around the smooth shell of the toy. My release is starting already, punching forward to seize and control.

“Ewan…?” My cry is fractured as he turns up the dial still further. My orgasm is unstoppable. Convulsions start in my cunt, spreading out to shake my entire body as I spin and whirl, my senses scrambled. Ewan’s mouth is on my stomach, open-mouthed kisses damp across my skin. His palms are on my hips, holding me still as the vibrator continues its inexorable humming. My climax passes, but still the toy trembles within me, the shuddering increasing as Ewan ramps it up still further.

I stiffen, my ankles resting on Ewan’s shoulders as he nibbles his way down my lower abdomen to take my engorged clit in his mouth. Now he adds delightful suction to the mix, which increases the intensity tenfold. Now I know. Now I understand what he meant about the stimulation becoming too much, drowning me in so much pleasure that it would be unbearable. But not yet. Not quite yet.

I come again. It seems as though the world has slipped into slow motion as I am dragged, helpless, over the precipice. Then I’m drifting, weightless as my body spins and tingles under the onslaught. I stretch my arms further behind me, my fingers reaching for something, anything to cling to. I find nothing, so settle instead for clamping my pussy walls hard around this shivering, shaking, pulsing plug buried in my cunt.

As this orgasm recedes, my body relaxes, expecting peace, seeking respite. There is none. Ewan’s lips, teeth, his wicked tongue continue to caress my clit while the vibrator, if anything, increases in tempo. Surely I can’t… He won’t…

Wrong. I can. He will. He does. The pulsating cranks up another notch and I am powerless to resist it. A third orgasm is drawn from my shuddering, tired body, my hips lifting and thrusting as though to deny my utter passivity in this. Ewan is in control, I can only react, respond.

The sensation peaks and passes, and my body is still once more. My breathing is laboured now, hot and moist within my cotton cocoon. I’m sated, quite replete. Surely he’ll stop now.

No. The vibrations feel perhaps a little less intense—either he has had the mercy to reduce the power a touch, or maybe I’m becoming acclimatised—but there is no sign of this stopping. Ewan is still suckling on my clit, scraping his teeth across the tip. He is using his thumbs to peel back the hood so my most sensitive bud is completely at his mercy, exposed, vulnerable.

I shiver, though not entirely with arousal now. This is too much, too drastic, intense pleasure on the cusp of becoming agony. I know now what Ewan meant, why he gave me that instruction.

“Stop. Enough,” I force the words past dry lips, my face now creased in concentration as I seek some relief from this acute pressure. I’m scared now, worried that he may not hear me, or if he does he may decide I can handle just a little more. Just the tiniest bit more.

The pulsating slows. Ewan releases my clit to take hold of the end of the vibrator. He swirls it around within my pussy, pressing the shaft against my inner walls as the slow, steady beat mingles with my own rhythms. I purr as the tempo matches and aligns with my own heartbeat, relaxing into a boneless heap of sensual flesh, at one with my lover and this magical, wonderful toy.

My final climax is slow, a gentle build-up of the comfortable, the delightful, the restful. This time I tumble soft and willing into the cosy, welcoming warmth, my pussy quivering in delicate surrender.

Long moments later I become aware of Ewan’s low, rich voice, murmuring something to me. I shake my head, confused, then screw up my eyes in sudden shock as the light hits me. He has eased the vest from over my face and released my arms. His palms are on my breasts, massaging, shaping, his thumbs now just grazing the tender peaks. He speaks to me again, but still I can’t catch it.

“What did you say? I can’t hear—”

“I asked, my beautiful little slut, if you would kindly consent to allowing me to fuck you. Or have you had enough?”

Dazed, I make an effort to pry my eyelids apart. Ewan is smiling at me, his expression warm and, and what? There’s something else in his face, something I struggle to name. Possession? Pride? Ownership? But if he owns me, why is he asking permission? Why so polite?

I sigh as the now still and silent vibrator shifts inside me. Ewan is withdrawing it, sliding it slowly from my sated body. It’s gone, leaving me empty. Bereft.

“Faith, I want to fuck you, but I need you to say yes. Say it, babe. Please.”

“Yes. Of course, yes.”
Why would he think otherwise?

I have no time to ponder this conundrum before he drives his cock deep into the space vacated by the vibrator. He matches it for size, both in length and girth, but he’s warmer. Vibrant. A living, hot, solid erection. The real thing.

I reach for his shoulders, dragging myself semi-upright to crush my face into his chest, still clad in a loose black T shirt. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I become aware of the rough denim rubbing against my calves. He has managed to remain fully clothed whilst I lay, naked and unravelling, on his desk. This realisation arouses me again, closet submissive that I am.

That is my last coherent thought for a while as Ewan thrusts hard and deep, seeking his own pleasure now. I squeeze around him, begrudging him nothing. His breathing thickens, his arms encircling my shoulders as he leans forward to lower my torso back onto the surface of his desk. His body blankets mine now, his cock buried balls-deep inside my cunt.

He stands. I open my eyes. He is towering over me, large, imposing. He sees me, smiles, his face transformed by a unique combination of dimples and intense concentration. He lowers his eyelids, withdraws his cock, then slams it back inside me right to the hilt. He holds that position, and I watch the play of something akin to pain twist the gorgeous features on his face. This gives way to slack-jawed relief as he spurts a thick jet of viscous semen against my cervix.

He bends at the hip to drop a sweet kiss against my earlobe.

“Mmm, needed that.” He pauses, then, “Do you suppose that tea would go in the microwave?”

Ewan assures me he’s been in touch with his insurance company and I’m fully covered to drive his car. Even so, the high-end Nissan spends the day lording it in his driveway.

While he’s in Leeds availing himself of the technical wizardry which is my satnav, I keep myself occupied putting the finishing touches to my nursery signage project and exchanging final proofs with the client. The job is ready to go to print. Soon I’ll be able to issue my first invoice as an independent designer. It’s been a slow start, but steady enough. I’ve tendered for three more contracts and I’m feeling really optimistic and determined to make a go of this. There’s plenty of work out there for a decent designer, competitively priced.

I glance across at the clock. Nearly six. Ewan should be back soon. He said he’d cook, mentioned that thing he does with lamb and rosemary so I expect to be eating well this evening. I return my attention to the screen. Might as well carry on working until he gets home.

The sound of an unfamiliar engine disturbs me, the bite of tyres on gravel outside. I chuckle to myself as I realise it’s my car. I don’t usually hear it from here. I close down my computer and head downstairs. All the while my ears are pricked for the sound of my front door opening. Ewan has a key, and having parked in my drive, it’s natural he’d come in here first.

I reach my hallway, but the door remains closed. There’s no sign of Ewan.

I open my door and glance outside. Sure enough, my modest little Fiat is parked in its usual spot. I lean out over the step and peer across the hedge in time to see Ewan disappear into his house.

Odd. He usually pops in to say hello even if he then has to go back to his to unload, catch up on emails or whatever. I have no shoes on otherwise I might follow him straight round to his to make sure everything’s alright. Instead I head for the kitchen and fill the kettle. I have no doubt he’ll be back soon.

Fifteen minutes later I reach for my phone to text him.

Did you have a good day? Shall I come round?

His response is swift.

No. I’ll come to yours. See you in 10

Ten minutes? He’s already been home for a quarter of an hour. Why does he need another ten minutes? I’m curious, but I top up the teapot with hot water and I wait.

Twelve minutes elapse before the sound of my front door opening and closing alerts me to his arrival. Not that I’m counting, but still, something seems off.

“In here.” I call out to him as I pour his tea. “Did you manage to find the place alright?”

Ewan comes into the room and takes a seat at the table opposite me. He has objects in his hand, which he tosses onto the table with a clatter. They lie there, incongruous, between my teapot and the half-full bottle of milk.

A pair of leather cuffs, and a spanking crop.

I gape at the items before me, then at Ewan. “What? What are these?”

He leans back in his chair, eyeing me in silence for several seconds. Then, “I think we both know what these are.” His tone is ominous, low and quiet, and endowed with a steely quality I find disconcerting.

I have a bad feeling, though why I should be alarmed has yet to be revealed. I don’t doubt though that it won’t be long. I play for time.

“Okay, I know what they are. What I meant was, what are they doing here? On my table?”

“We may need them. Later. First, we need to talk.” If anything, his tone is even cooler. I suppress my involuntary shudder.

“So talk.” I find I resent his clear intention of intimidating me. I tilt my chin in a reckless show of bravado I am far from feeling.

“Okay. I’ll start then. Thank you for the loan of your car. And your satnav.”

Right…
“So, you found this place in Leeds then?”