Red Skye at Night (16 page)

“You have an expression a bit like that when you come.” He looks thoughtful as he continues, tilting his head to study me. “Maybe a little more slackness around the lips, perhaps slightly more dilation in the pupils. But near enough. I’m guessing that chocolate thing is good.”

“It is, Sir. Very. Thank you.”

“Thank me later. When I give you even more cause. Speaking of which, are you almost done or do you intend to take the pattern off that dish?”

I scrape my spoon around the small bowl one final time, scooping out every last trace of the confection that I can manage to extract. I lick the spoon, deliberately holding Harry’s gaze whilst I do it. I’m living dangerously, I realize that. My bum’s already sore—a little more spanking won’t make a lot of difference. I hope.

“Hope Shepherd, you’re a brat.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“A brat. A submissive who goads her Dom on purpose, to earn a whipping. Is it a whipping you’re wanting, then, Hope? Is that how you plan to top off our evening? Pun intended.”

I lay my spoon on the table, unaccountably chastened by the reprimand—if indeed he was admonishing me. His tone remained soft, even, not the Dom voice he can switch on at will. His eyes are still smiling. I lower my gaze, a precautionary measure. It’s not that I fear the physical side of any punishment he might mete out, I’m quite sure now that I will come to no harm at Harry McLeod’s hands. I wish I hadn’t displeased him, though—his disappointment in me is more powerful a censure than any implied threat.

Harry reaches across the table, cups my chin in his hand and tilts my face back up, forcing me to look at him.

“Why so woebegone, Hope? Are you afraid of me?”

“Of course not, Sir. I love being here with you.”

He nods once. “So?”

“I’m sorry. I was teasing, I meant nothing by it.”

“I see. But I wasn’t teasing. You do know that, don’t you? If you act like a brat, I’ll treat you like one. Which means I will punish you, though not in the way you want.”

I reach for my glass of water. Harry drops his hand to allow me to take a couple of sips. When my mouth is sufficiently refreshed, I level my gaze at him once more.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I genuinely meant nothing—I was just enjoying myself, enjoying the food.” I hesitate, but I have to ask. “What do you intend to do?”

“Nothing. I accept your explanation. I want you to have fun and you can’t do that if you’re scared to speak in case you annoy me. When I’m topping you, I expect you to take matters seriously, behave accordingly. That means lots of respect, and lose the levity. At other times, like now, you can relax.” He reaches for my hand, squeezes it. “Okay, Hope?”

I nod, incredibly relieved. My Dom’s approval is becoming all-important to me.

“Can we go back now?” I’m anxious to be alone with him. After our little almost-spat I’m craving the intimacy that any sort of scene will bring.

Harry nods, rises to his feet. He comes around to slide my chair back as I get up, then takes my hand as we make for the door. He pauses to sign the chit at the till authorizing the cost of our meal to be added to our bill when we check out. Then we’re strolling back along the graveled path leading across the resort toward our chalet.

“Do you suppose Daisy will have been all right?” I confess I totally forgot about the most recent addition to our party while I was relishing my dinner with Harry.

He shrugs off his jacket and drops it across my shoulders. “Yeah, should be. She had food and water, and I took her out again while you were getting dressed. We’ll soon see.”

Our lodge comes into view. Harry pulls the key out of his trouser pocket, and I follow him up the half dozen steps leading onto the verandah. He unlocks the door, opens it, and we’re met by a small, brown, and totally elated whirlwind.

To say Daisy is pleased to see us is an understatement. She spares a brief lick for my outstretched fingers, but her real and true adulation is reserved for Harry. She curls herself around his legs, her skinny little tail flapping madly. He crouches to tickle her ears, which sends her into another frenzy of hero worship, licking his hands, battering the tiled floor with her whip of a tail.

My more practical turn of mind compels me to survey the foyer where she’s been confined while we were out. No telltale puddles or worse. No chewed skirting board, nothing to suggest she’s done anything but sleep. And eat. Her food bowl is empty, her water almost so.

Harry stands up, turns to me. “Everything looks fine. I’ll take her for a walk, then feed her. You’ve plenty of time to get ready.”

Ah, right.
I wait for my more detailed instructions.

He continues, his expression giving nothing away. He might as well be giving me directions to the nearest post box. “You’ll wait for me in the bedroom. By the time I get there I want you naked, kneeling on the floor. You’ll have dealt with any ablutions because you won’t be getting a loo break until I’m done with you. Take a shower if you want. You have half an hour. Oh, and I want you to find the tube of lubricant I bought earlier. We’ll be needing that.”

No hairbrush this time then? My relief is short-lived. Lubricant can only mean one thing.

* * * *

I take up Harry’s suggestion of a shower, but even so, I’m ready a good ten minutes before I need to be. I assume my position kneeling beside the bed, the tube of lubricant prominently displayed on the bedside table to my left. I’m nervous, but the submissive posture seems to help me. It’s calming, drawing me into the mindset I need to find in order to sink willingly into what’s to come. My anxiety recedes, to be replaced by a sort of heightened anticipation. I’m listening for Harry’s footfalls on the floor beyond the small chalet bedroom. I’m not even sure he’s in the lodge right now. He might be still out walking Daisy.

The sound of the outer door opening and closing, and the patter of tiny paws on the tiled floor in the entrance hall confirm that suspicion. But he’s back now. His voice is low as he bids a gentle goodnight to Daisy, then I listen to his footsteps coming closer. The bedroom door opens behind me. I resist the temptation to raise my eyes, to look over my shoulder at him. Instinctively I know I must remain still, await his next command. Harry walks slowly across the room, around the back of me to the bed. He would be in my line of sight now if I were to look up. I don’t.

“Have you worked out what’s about to happen, Hope?” Harry’s matter-of-fact tone is perversely comforting. He’s quite at ease, and as a result, so am I. I think. For now.

“Yes, Sir, I believe so.”

“Tell me.”

“You’re going to fuck my arse.” I blurt out the words before allowing myself time to think more deeply about the situation. “Sir,” I add as an afterthought.

“Correct. Will this be a first for you, Hope?”

“Yes, Sir.” I hesitate. That’s not entirely true. Honesty and full disclosure are absolute requirements—Harry will expect me to tell him anything relevant. “At least, that is… Not exactly.”

“You’ve had a cock in your ass before?”

“No, Sir, not a cock. Fingers.”

“I see. And how did that go?”

“It was…all right.”

“All right? I’m struggling to detect any real enthusiasm here, Hope.”

The hint of humor in his tone reassures me that he’s not taking issue with my attitude. Relieved, I try to explain. “I’m sorry, Sir. It was just…not that pleasant.”

“I see. Did he hurt you? Was he rough with you, perhaps? It was a he, I assume? An ex-boyfriend? Another Dom?”

So many questions. I try to tell him what he wants to know, but in truth I’m not sure of all the answers myself. “It did hurt, a little. I suppose that was inevitable, though. He wasn’t rough, not exactly. More…forceful. And yes, he was my boyfriend at the time. Sort of. I saw him a few times, but not anymore, not for over a year now. I don’t think he was a Dom, but I never asked.”

Now Harry does chuckle. “If he was a Dom, you would have known it whether you asked or not. And a good Dom wouldn’t have been forceful, as you put it. He wouldn’t have needed to be. I won’t be forcing you this evening, Hope. You’re going to submit to me. Willingly.”

“I know that, Sir.”

“Okay. So, tell me, when this happened before, how did you feel afterwards?”

Now I pause, chewing my lip as I consider Harry’s question. I’m not sure what to say. In truth, I didn’t feel especially good about my previous experience of anal play and I’ve harbored no wish to repeat it. I have mixed feelings now, though I readily accept that Harry is a far cry from my ex-boyfriend.

The seconds pass, and still I don’t answer. Harry reaches for me. He cradles my chin in his palm, tilting my head up so that I have to meet his eyes.

“Tell me, Hope.” His tone is achingly gentle.

“I felt…humiliated. Used, perhaps.”

“Humiliation is a part of submission. And you are your Dom’s, to use—an ass, a cunt—for his pleasure.” He waits a moment. I presume to let his words sink in. Then, “Does that bother you now? At this moment?”

I draw a long, deep breath, considering my answer. Harry releases my chin and shifts on the bed to sit on the edge, directly in front of me. I drop my gaze again so his legs are in my line of sight, from the knees down.

“Look up, Hope. Look at me as you answer.” The Dom tone is still soft, the timbre rich, sexy, but tender at the same time. I obey, lifting up my chin to meet his gaze. He smiles at me. My confidence soars. Whatever may have happened before, this is going to be good. Because this time, it’s Harry.

“No, Sir. I’m fine right now.” I manage a tentative smile of my own.

“That’s good. But even so, I think we’ll have a safe code for this. I want to know how you’re doing. The fact that this has not gone too well for you in the past makes me cautious. As your Dom, I’m going to want to know how you’re feeling as we proceed.”

I frown, puzzled. “Do you mean my safe word, Sir?”

“No. Similar idea, though. We’re going to operate a scale, from one to ten. One means everything’s fine, ten means whatever is happening to you is intolerable and has to stop immediately. Ten is the equivalent of your safe word. I’m going to ask you what your score is, frequently, and you’ll tell me, somewhere on that scale. If your score changes, and I haven’t asked, you have permission to say it. No, scratch that. You’re instructed to say it. Is that clear?”

“I think so, Sir.”

“So, what’s your score now?”

“One, Sir. Possibly two.”

“Sounds good to start with. I think I’ll need to ramp you up a bit, though. You’ll feel cheated otherwise. Yes?”

His eyes are glinting now, a heady mix of lust and humor, the perfect Dom for me. My pussy clenches in response—it’s a combination that will win with me every time. I bow my head, my submissive instincts coming to the fore, attuned to Harry’s dominance. “You’re right, Sir, of course.”

“Ah, Hope, you truly delight me. How did I get so lucky that I found you?”

“Sir?” I glance at him in genuine surprise. No one ever said they felt lucky to have found me.

Harry leans forward, placing his palms on my cheeks. He brushes his lips over mine. “I knew at first glance you were a stunner and sassy with it. Sexy goes without saying, and to discover you’re the perfect little submissive too. Hey, all my Christmases have come at once.” He kisses me again.

I forget my submissive posture, drawn in by the seductive dance of his tongue in my mouth, tangling around mine. I tunnel my fingers through his hair, lifting my body up to meet his kiss. Harry’s hands are on my shoulders, then they slide across my shoulder blades and down my back. He cups my bottom, separating the cheeks. I wince—my skin is still slightly delicate from the paddling earlier.

Harry notices and breaks the kiss. “Still sore?”

“Only a little, Sir.”

He nods then turns to grab two pillows from the head of the bed. He lays them one on top of the other beside him.

“Stand up, please.”

I obey immediately.

“Bend over, keep your feet on the floor and place your stomach on the pillows.”

I do that, finding I have to bend my knees to rest on the pillows. My right leg is stiff, but I manage to get into the position.

“Too low, you’ll be uncomfortable. Lift up a second.”

Harry shoves two more pillows under me, and this time my weight is well supported, my legs are straight, and I’m even able to rest my arms and chin on the bed on the other side of the pillows. My bum, naturally, is held aloft for his attention. I feel vulnerable. Exposed, but not scared. Not yet.

“What’s your score, Hope?”

I answer without hesitation. “Two, Sir.”

“I’ll live with that. Now, I want you to reach back and part your butt cheeks for me, please. Show me your asshole.”

“Three, Sir.”

“Noted. Do it, please.”

I shift my weight slightly as I move my arms. Moments later I’m straining to hold my buttocks apart, concentrating on not pressing too hard on anywhere especially tender, and trying not to think too closely about the view he now has of me.

I’m aware of Harry moving, shifting his body around so he’s now perched on the edge of the bed, tuning to face me. Or rather, to face my exposed backside.

“Oh! Oh that’s cold. Sir.” I let out the exclamation as a blob of something decidedly chilly lands on my anus

“Wimp. Remind me to put the lube in the fridge next time. Or perhaps when you’ve become a bit more accustomed to these little games of ours, we could play with some ice. Would you like that, do you think, my slutty little sub? I could lick ice from your pussy.”

The image causes me to clench hard, though not entirely in displeasure. The conversation almost takes my mind off the circular motion of Harry’s fingertip around the rim of my anus, slowly working the lube around the tight little opening. As far as I’m aware, my previous experience at this did not involve any lubricant. Perhaps that’s why I disliked it. I could hardly describe what Harry’s doing to me as unpleasant. Quite the reverse.

“Two, Sir.” Well, he did say to tell him if my score altered.

“Good girl.” He continues to work the lube into my skin, and now I’m aware of a slight pressure against my arsehole. Nothing hard, nothing to be alarmed about. Quite nice really, sort of intimate. Erotic certainly. The pressure increases, and I know Harry has managed to slip the tip of his finger inside. Just the tip, just an inch or so, perhaps less. He sets up a slow, shallow thrusting, twisting and swirling to tease the opening a little wider, encouraging me to slacken for him.