Pain and Pleasure (2 page)

Passing farther into the shop, I came to the fruit and veg section. This was where we’d said we’d meet. At three a.m.

Fuck, I hoped he’d show. What if he didn’t? Here was me in my whorish get-up, out in the middle of the night, and if he was a no-show, what the hell would I do? Buy some groceries and go home, I supposed.

I trip-trapped to the salad section. Thought about what I’d said earlier to Gabriel about bananas and cucumbers being like cocks.

I picked up a cucumber, one that had a cellophane wrapper on it, kind of like a condom, tested its weight and its girth then passed it from one hand to the other.

Gabriel had a nice cock. Heavy and thick, long too, but not too long, just right. I liked the fact that he was circumcised—that always appealed to me. Cocks looked pretty when flaccid without that extra bit, but each to their own. I wondered if it hurt when…

“Excuse me, Miss.”

I spun at the sound of a deep, familiar voice.

Gabriel stood next to me, hands in the pockets of a navy jacket that bunched at his hips, the sparkle of dew in his hair. His cheeks were flushed and the scent of night rushed off him.

I guessed he’d walked.

Had he needed a drink, more than one, before meeting me? Or did he live really near to the supermarket?

“Yes?” I replied, tipping my head questioningly.

We had a deal—a deal to pretend we didn’t know each other.

Well, we didn’t know very much about each other. Not really. I didn’t have a clue what his surname was, his age or what job he did. I knew other stuff, though, fun stuff.

“I was wondering,” he said, “since you’re holding one, if you know a good recipe for cucumber.”

He set down the empty basket he was carrying and I realized I’d forgotten to pick one up.

Oh well.

“Yes, actually I do.”

I half smiled as I took in the stubble on his chin and down his neck. It hadn’t been there this morning—he’d been freshly shaved then. But I liked this just-got-out-of-bed look. It matched his slightly roguish features—the bump in his nose, the heaviness of his eyebrows. He wasn’t model handsome—more rough and ready in an expensive suit, a delicious combination for a bad girl like me.

“Are you willing to share your recipe?” He picked up a cucumber of his own. Curled his thumb and index finger around it, like he was stroking a cock, and gave a few lazy rubs up and down it.

I swallowed tightly and a sudden thought of watching him do that to his cock blustered into my mind. Damn, that would be so hot, to watch him wank. I hoped it would be on our agenda. If not, there was another fantasy to keep me warm at night.

“Sure,” I said, “take one cucumber.” I paused and positioned my cucumber as if it were a dick protruding from my groin. “And a pot of cream. Smother the cucumber in the cream, add a little spice if that’s your thing, then let it marinate, slowly. To allow the flavors to soak into the ripe, moist inside of the cucumber, let the cream coat it all over. Best way to do this is by sliding it in and out of the cream…”

His face broke into a grin. “Just as well I like cream, then.” He bent his head to mine. “
Your
cream. I could taste it on my fingers all fucking day. Kept me hard—hard for you. Damn it, lose the cucumbers and let’s go and do this.”

Chapter Two

I’d intended more of a stalk around the shop, a few, ‘Oh, please can you reach that tin from the highest shelf for me?’, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t complaining, though. If Gabriel had been hard for me all day, then I’d been wet for him. I’d also realized that crotchless knickers were not the best thing to be wearing right now. My thighs were gliding over each other as I walked, my arousal having made the insides damp.

“You know this place well?” he asked, touching my elbow and guiding me past the tomatoes and toward the grapes and bananas.

“Only as a shopper, but I’ve been around the back once, when I got in a muddle trying to get out of the car park. I know they have those big cage things stored in a separate section of the warehouse once they’re empty or not in use. The huge back doors were wide open, it was summer, and I could see right in.”

He huffed and glanced left and right, as though checking we weren’t being watched. I hoped the security man was still absorbed in his book.

“You look like a whore,” he said into my ear.

“Yes.”

“A dirty whore out on the town, looking for work. Those boots, they’re slutty. Your skirt, fuck, I can almost see your pussy.”

“That’s the idea, for you, so you can see my pussy.”

He turned to me. “I’m gonna do so much more than just look at it.”

A tremble of nerves went through me. It was the masterfulness of his voice. His absolute determination to get what he wanted.

A member of staff suddenly appeared, pulling one of the cages that I adored so much.

My knees weakened a little and my breath stuttered. Gabriel tightened his hold on my arm.

“Good evening,” the middle-aged man said then laughed. “Or morning.” He slid his gaze over me, at the way Gabriel had a possessive grip on my arm.

“I suspect so,” Gabriel said. “We’re looking for…”

“That way.” The man pointed to his left. “In the toiletry section. Second aisle about halfway down.”

“Oh, okay, thanks.” Gabriel nodded and headed in the direction we’d been sent.

“What was he directing you to?” I asked, tottering beside him.

He smirked. “I’m guessing condoms.”

“Fuck, is it that obvious we want to screw each other senseless?”

He stopped then, sliding his hands around me until he cupped my sore backside. He squeezed—hard—and I groaned.

“I think it is.”

He stared at me, his dark eyes just as I remembered them from when we’d been in the train carriage. Penetrating. Piercing. I could come just from looking into them.

“Your arse,” he said. “Still sore?”

“Yes.” I paused, then added, “Sir.”

“You minxy whore. You called me that on purpose, where I can’t do anything but touch you innocently. Where’s the bloody storeroom?”

“Over here.”

I pulled away from him, leading the way to a set of plastic swing doors I’d seen workers breezing in and out of, or getting stuck with those cages, the wheels snagging on the jambs. I glanced left and right, then pushed one of the doors open. The large area that greeted me was bland—gray floor, gray walls, gray ceiling. The only breaks in color were the glint of the stocked silver cages beneath the harsh strip lighting and the beige of the cardboard boxes they held. I strode in, glancing back once to make sure Gabriel had followed, then walked much deeper into the warehouse, all the time tiptoeing, making sure my heels didn’t click on the floor.

It was still and quiet. No one appeared to be around and I could only hope the security cameras hadn’t caught us going in or that any were in operation inside. The last thing I wanted was our encounter caught on camera, a free porno for the workers to watch tomorrow at lunchtime over their egg mayonnaise sandwiches. Or, God forbid, evidence if they passed it to the police. Being the star of a film like that wasn’t something I would relish.

“This way,” I whispered. “To that far corner there.”

We walked quickly, and I pushed through another set of plastic doors. Gabriel was so close his every breath blew on my neck.

Finally we were in the space I’d seen from the outside, last summer. Behind a stack of wooden pallets stood a row of empty cages. The light was dim in here, no fluorescents, the air a little cooler—just as well, I was so damn hot.

Excitement churned within me. What was going to happen next was the seedy stuff of my fantasies, or so I hoped. “See the cages behind?”

“I see them.”

Impatient to begin, I tugged his arm and walked toward them, thankful they were stored somewhere secluded. If anyone came in, we’d be shielded by the towering pallets.

“This is decidedly dangerous,” Gabriel said, although he didn’t sound bothered.

“That’s the whole idea. A bit of danger. Gets the blood pumping. And your cock if I have my way.”

“Oh, you’ll have your way all right—after I’ve had mine. I have a wickedly sinful idea for this encounter. Been thinking about it all day—to the point I had to pretend I needed the restroom during my meeting today. I had to…go and squeeze my cock.”

I flushed with pleasure that he’d been thinking about me like that when he should have been concentrating on other things. That I’d dominated his mind was something to be proud of, an accomplishment I’d hoped to achieve but hadn’t thought I would.

“Did you have to wank?” I asked, sliding between the end of a stack of pallets and the wall, then finding myself in around a twelve by twelve space with three empty cages. I turned to watch Gabriel coming in behind me. “Did you have to”—I tugged his tie by the end, drawing him closer to me—“give yourself a good seeing to?”

“Almost,” he said, gripping my waist and yanking me toward him so our bodies were flush. “But after coming so hard earlier on, and the thought of coming later, I held off.” He licked my mouth, one solid, quick swipe across the seam, then turned his lips in on themselves as though he wanted to lick those too, tasting me. “And knowing what was to come was bloody torture, but now I’m here, so worth the pain.”

I smiled, trying to hide the fact that he was making me flustered. My heart was pattering nineteen to the dozen, and if I wasn’t careful, my knees would give out. He’d had such an effect on me I was hard pressed to think straight. I blinked a few times to clear my mind of images that had begun sweeping through it, of us on the train—his sordid little stick, the drawing pin digging into my face, his cock in my cunt.

“So,” I said, needing to get this show on the road. “Where do we go from here, Sir?”

He swallowed, shifting his gaze from me to the cage farthest from us. It was tucked right into the corner, trapped by brick walls and a pile of pallets. The door hung open, the only one inviting me to go inside.

“Get in there,” he said, pointing to it. “And get undressed. Leave your boots on, though. I want to see you in nothing but them.”

My stomach turned somersaults and I gladly obeyed his command. Thankfully the cage had a floor that wasn’t like the rest of it—inch-wide squares—and was a flat piece of sturdy plastic. Inside, I turned to face the door then began taking my clothes off. When I stood in nothing but the boots and my panties, he widened his eyes.

“Ah,” he said. “Now then,
they
can stay on as well.” He darted forward and rudely swiped one finger up my slit. “Crotchless. Yes, you’re such a filthy little slut.”

I could smell him—aftershave and the faint aroma of the outdoors. And myself. That tangy, musky scent that would only get stronger as time wore on. Already I was damper than I’d been upon seeing him again, my cunt drenched, my anticipation of what was to come making it grow wetter by the second. I had what felt like butterflies fluttering around in my chest, and if I didn’t know better I’d swear the edges of their wings were tickling me.

“Yes, I’m a filthy slut, and I want you to treat me as though I am one. A dirty, brazen hussy who likes nothing more than a good fuck in public places. And you’re good at that, fucking in public places. The idea of getting caught turns you on, doesn’t it?” I panted for a second or two, the images my words had conjured sending me lightheaded. “Except in here we’re not locked in, we’re not safe like we were on the train. Here, anyone could walk through that gap there and find us. It gets to you, doesn’t it, Sir?”

“Fuck, yes. And you being in that cage, the one who’s standing there in nothing but a pair of boots and a skimpy pair of knickers, would be the one who’s going to be looked at first—and for longer. Imagine that security guard if he finds us. Think about the shock you’d give him. And the hard-on. Yes, sub, you think about that while I get my toys ready.”

“I’m not your…”

He shot me a look then turned to face away from me and ferreted about in his pocket. I craned my neck to see what he was doing then stopped myself. Wasn’t the anticipation part of the fun? Not knowing what he was going to produce? I didn’t care what it was so long as it gave me pain—and lots of it. I craved the ache of bitter sensation, the rawness, the utter severity of a streak of agony going through me as I built to orgasm.

God, I wanted him to hurry up, to swivel to face me and reveal what he’d brought with him.

“Are you ready, sub?” he asked, keeping his back to me, holding his hands in front of him, hiding what was within them.

“Yes, Sir. Are you?”

“Oh, I’m more than ready. I’ve had this on my mind for hours. All that’s left is to see how you cope with what I plan to do.”

My stomach lurched at the same time my muscles there decided to spasm. I was high on excitement, on pins and needles to get this thing started. My arms were by my sides, but if he took any more time about it I’d end up massaging my tits and fingering myself. I needed stimulation, my body was screaming for attention.

“Shut the door,” he said. “And secure it.”

I did as he’d asked, dropping down a small catch. The thrill that gave me, being locked in but on show, like an animal, a possession, was out of this world.

And tonight I was his possession.

“Now then,” he said. “Move to the door and push yourself against it. Make sure your nipples poke through those square holes. I want to see your flesh bulging through them, too, small hills of skin that I can poke and hurt, just the way I think you like it.”

Oh, yes, he knew exactly what I was after, knew my fantasies just as well as I knew them. I pressed my body to the door, my toes, my mound, my tits and face, glancing down to make sure I was applying enough pressure. My nipples, distended and so rock hard they ached, jutted proudly through two of the squares. I looked debased, as though this act alone had violated some form of code where couples just didn’t do this kind of thing with one another. Except in the world I longed to inhabit full-time they did—every day, every night and every spare moment between.

“Close your eyes,” he said, voice sterner than I’d heard it before.