Reckless Whisper (4 page)

      
“Jack
Riding?” she asked, still unsure.

      
“Who
else would it be?” he grinned as a cab pulled up. He held the door open.
“Ladies’ first,” he said and got in after her. The cab pulled off and Jack gave
an address in central London.

      
“Where
are we going?” Lydia asked, watching familiar streets turn to unfamiliar ones.

      
“Back
to my place, if you don’t mind,” he replied, handing her one of the coffees.
She sipped it gratefully. “It’s easier to do these things in a familiar place,”
he brought out a piece of paper and handed it to her. “This is a contract,” he
explained. “You’ll want to read it and sign it. I’ve taken the liberty of
signing it already,” he pointed to a swirling, artistic scrawl at the bottom of
the page.

      
Lydia
read through the page, raising her eyebrows several times as she did so.

The binding contact between Lydia Westwood (sub) and Jack
Riding (dom) hereby states that the sub will at all times adhere to any and all
instructions given by the dom. The sub has no right to end the scene, except
through statement of the Safe Word, hereby designated as
Coffee
.

The scene may include but is not limited to the following
activities…

There followed a list ranging from
spanking to fisting that made Lydia’s eyebrows shoot up in horror. She decided
that safe word would be on the tip of her tongue at all times, as the cab
pulled up outside a large, three-storey terraced house in the heart of London.

      
“Are
you rich?” she asked as she got out of the vehicle.

      
“Well,
yes, actually,” Jack knocked on the door once and a man in a suit answered the
door.

      
“Good
afternoon, Sir,” he said, opening the door to let his employer in. “Will you be
requiring anything?”

      
“Just
the third floor, Brown, thank you,” Jack handed his coat to the butler and
indicated Lydia should do the same. With a slight incline of the head, the man
called ‘Brown’ disappeared into a different room.

      
“Should
I take my shoes off?” Lydia asked, feeling stupid.

      
“Yes,
that will save some time,” Jack smiled. “We’ll take the third floor. I hope you
are prepared,” and he indicated she should lead the way up the oak staircase,
smiling politely at her confusion. With each step she was getting closer and
closer to something new, something exciting with this man who she could feel
following her from behind; his eyes soaking in her body with each and every
step. The dream she had remembered earlier that morning popped into her head in
its entirety and she smiled as she recalled the images, hoping that dreams
really do come true.

Chapter
Three

Lydia stood, stripped naked, her arms
wrapped protectively around herself in the centre of a large room which was
painted a dark, seductive blue. Around her seemed to be weapons of various
degrees of distress.

      
There
was a strange seat, like a pommel-horse; a large ‘X’ shape, complete with
buckles at the end of each line; a curved table-like object and an assortment
of whips, buckles, chains, straps and handcuffs. Lydia was overcome with
curiosity and went to examine the enormous ‘X’ on the wall. She had just
reached up to touch one of the buckles, running her fingers over it when the
door to the room opened and shut.

      
“That’s
a St. Andrew’s Cross,” Jack’s voice said helpfully. “Would you like to try it?”

      
“Um,”
Lydia’s hands moved to cover her naked body and she blushed outwardly while
inside she burned with excitement. “No, not right now,” and she remembered that
‘no’ wasn’t an accepted form of refusal here. But Jack smiled and stepped into
the light, so she could see he was entirely naked, too.

      
He
had the toned body of someone who works out but not obsessively. His dark blond
hair turned to curls on his breastbone and even darker around his currently
flaccid, yet still impressive prick.

      
“Then
we shall start at the beginning, as is correct,” he said, as he pointed towards
the strange curved table. “Drape yourself over that,” he said. “Bottom up.”

      
Lydia
crossed the room self-consciously to the soft, padded table and rested her
toned stomach over the curve. It was surprisingly comfortable and she felt no
muscle strains at all leaning over it. She had just allowed herself to relax
when Jack’s hand came down upon her with the force of an express train and
smacked her on the backside.

      
“Ow!”
she cried reacting without even meaning to. She couldn’t believe how much that
hurt. She fought to gather herself as a second blow, on the other cheek slapped
her back into shock and pain radiated across her buttocks. Then came both hands
at once, making hot contact with her sore skin, following the smacks with
squeezes that would at any other time be sensual.

      
It
was this moulding of her flesh that made Lydia pause. The heat of the pain was
transforming. As her backside was warmed, tiny nerve pulses seemed to be
travelling from her wounded flesh to her sex, and she gasped in surprise.

      
“Shall
I go on?” a sarcastic voice above her said.

      
“Yes,”
she nodded, and immediately the spanking became harder, faster, almost
frenzied. Pain rained down on her backside, but even as it did so, the
blossoming feeling turned from pain to all-consuming warmth. She felt her sex
open slightly as if in response to the feeling, and the more Jack touched her,
even though it was intended to hurt her, made her want him all the more.
Gradually, the slaps stopped, as if Jack’s arm was tiring.

      
“How
does that feel?” he asked, massaging her buttocks with both hands –
avoiding her sex completely.

      
“Nice…
Nicer than I expected,” she replied, wondering if it was all over.

      
“Good,”
he said. “Then you’ll be fine with what comes next,” and he walked over to a
wall where he kept various restraints and whips. Lydia craned her head and saw
that Jack’s penis had sprung to life during her beating. It was now engorged
and inviting – the glowing pinkness of his glans made her think of
sucking candy. He came back, though Lydia could not see what he carried.

      
The
dark-haired woman flinched as she felt buckles fasten around her ankles –
first right, then the left. She tried to move her feet, but found she could
not.

      
“There’s
a solid bar between your legs to hold them open,” Jack explained, tracing a
line of fiery desire up her calf, thigh and buttock. “I want to see everything
you have,” and the fingers traced this time down the valley between her
buttocks, over her pink, puckered anus, down her perineum and graced
tantalisingly over her sex, which was wet and opening in response to his touch.

      
“That’s…
ah,” she trembled as his fingers opened the folds of her sex, exposing the
entrance to her vagina.

      
“Soon,”
he said, pressing a fingertip against her opening. There was a pause, and Lydia
wondered what was to happen as she heard a loud ‘crack’ sound. There was a
second where nothing happened at all, and then fire like nothing Lydia had ever
felt shot from the back of her thighs, up towards her brain. She did not
scream, just moaned as she reached around to try and comfort her legs. Jack
batted her hands away and struck her with the riding crop again.

      
CRACK.
All the blood in Lydia’s legs went rushing to the injured spot and set alight,
burning her skin so she cried. She braced herself for another blow and it came
– whipping down with precision aim directly on top of her already scalded
flesh. She squealed and wriggled helplessly on the padded table, aware that as
she struggled, her sex was betraying her – the warmth from her pain was
making her ready, willing and desperate to be filled by her pain-giver.

      
Lydia
could feel her wetness growing and the swell of her clitoris as she moved on
the table. Jack delivered less painful but still stinging strikes to the backs
of her legs as she wormed about, trying to deny her arousal and escape the burn
of the riding crop.

      
“Had
enough?” Jack’s voice sounded as though he was enjoying watching her squirm.

      
“I…
I don’t know!” Lydia shook her head to try and clear away the stars she was
seeing. Jack ran the riding crop over her sore legs, causing the blood to flood
her nether regions and then, slowly, ran the crop over her sex.

      
Lydia
froze as she felt the leather grace over her clitoris, labia and anus, fearing
for the damage a blow to them might do. But Jack Riding was kind this time, and
simply sought out his submissive’s clitoris again and gently rubbed it with the
soft end of the riding crop.

      
It
was different to a hand, different again from a sex toy, and the smoothness of
the leather running slickly and quickly over her swollen clit made Lydia moan
gently. Jack squeezed her slap-marks with his free hand and increased the
sensations inside and out of Lydia’s body. She surrendered to this new pleasure
as the friction increased.

                                                                                                    
…
to
be continued.

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