Red Skye at Night (22 page)

“Hold that for me, please. I just need to part the lips of your cunt ready for this.”

I manage to hold still while he uses his fingers to spread my labia wide, then he inserts just the tips of his index and middle fingers into my entrance and spreads them to open me. He picks up the ice cube with his other hand and pushes it slowly into me. He leaves it lodged between my pussy lips as I lie there, shivering helplessly.

“Christ, Sir, that’s cold.” I’m almost whimpering, though it’s not painful exactly. It’s more a combination of shock at the freezing temperature, and humiliation that my cunt is spread open, the lips held apart by the ice.

“You need to concentrate then and hope you don’t miss next time, or it’ll get a whole lot colder. Are you ready to go again?” His attitude is light, conversational, but I know he’s every inch the Dom in this moment. His focus is entirely on me, his concentration intent as he scrapes his fingernails across my buttocks.

I reach for the cue as Harry lands over me to re-spot the white ball. I close my eyes, striving for the clarity of thought I’ll need for this. Harry does not help, idly caressing my bum as I take aim. He has the decency to keep his hand still as I take the shot, but still the black ball ricochets across the table to come to rest against the cushion opposite me.

Harry pats my bum, the touch playful. He places his glass of iced water back on the table. “The ice is starting to melt, so strictly speaking we could probably manage without lube. It might help matters, though. Would you like me to open you up a little first or are we just going for it?”

No reasonable offer of help ever refused. That’s my motto. And in any case, this bit should be fun. I think. “Would you prepare me first, please? And with lube, if you don’t mind, Sir?”

“My, my, how polite you are. How perfectly submissive.” There’s a soft slurp as he squirts lube onto his fingers.

Even though I’m expecting it, and the stuff is nowhere near as cold as the ice in my pussy, I still jerk when he smears it around my anus.

“Keep still, Hope.” A hand in the small of my back reminds me that he’s totally in control here—as if I could doubt that. I manage to lie motionless while he works the lube into my arsehole, slipping the tip of his finger in to smooth it around the rim.

“Would you like me to go a little deeper, just for good measure? Your aim does seem to be a little unreliable, you may well end up with quite a lot of ice in here.”

Oh God.
I groan into the baize beneath my cheek. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

He withdraws his digit and reloads it with lube. Spreading my buttocks with the fingers of his spare hand, he penetrates my arse again. This time he finger-fucks me quite thoroughly, sinking two fingers fully inside. He twists and spreads them, coating my inner walls with the slick lube. It would be heavenly, but for the knowledge of what’s coming next.

“Enough, I think. Too much lube will take the edge off the sensation, and we wouldn’t want that, would we? Hold still, please, as I push this one through the sphincter. I’m going to let your arsehole close around it, with the ice inside. I wouldn’t want you to be struggling to keep it in there.”

How considerate.
I grit my teeth as he dips his lubed fingers into the water for another ice cube.
I hope he won’t be thinking of drinking that!
My concern for his welfare evaporates when he places the wet cube against my anus and presses firmly. My instinct is to close up tight, to repel the intruder, but he already loosened the muscle, and the lube does the rest of the work. The cube slips easily into my arse, lodging just inside the rim.

“Christ, that’s beautiful. I love how you let me do this, how you let me handle your body. No protest, no struggle. Your submission is so precious to me, honey.”

His words take me by surprise, soothing the edge off my discomfort. Perhaps that was his intention. The knowledge that I please him, that he appreciates my surrender, is powerful. It motivates and grounds me, reminds me why I’m here, draped half naked over a snooker table, my pussy and arse filled with rapidly melting ice.

“Thank you, Sir.” My response is murmured, little more than a whisper, and carries none of the sarcasm it might have. This moment is special, a turning point for me as I acknowledge, more for myself than for Harry, that I’ll do whatever he asks of me. Whatever he instructs, I will obey. Whatever he wants, I will give. I know he’s not about to hurt me, though in the future he undoubtedly will. For now it’s to be discomfort, humiliation and the absolute control of his will over mine.

I love it, want it. Crave it.

“Ready to try the next shot, honey?” His voice is gentle, and I know if I asked for a minute to compose myself I would have it. He’s in no hurry—this scene will proceed at my pace. I guess that may not always be the case. Sometimes he will push me. He has before. But not today.

I nod, stretching out my hand to feel for the discarded cue. Harry walks around the table to retrieve all three balls, pushing the cue toward me as he passes. I watch him replace the pink and the black. He smiles at me and winks before re-spotting the white.

“Good luck.” He stands, arms folded, to watch my next attempt.

I’m hopelessly off target. The pink crashes straight into the black and all three balls hurtle around the table, bouncing off the cushions. Harry grabs the white ball before it hits my arm on its course back down to the baulk end. “No bruises, at least not today. If you could spread your legs a little wider, though, that would be nice.”

He moves back into his position behind me, stroking my labia with his fingers. I flinch when he presses the ice cube, now considerably smaller, right into my pussy. My inner thighs are dripping with the cool water melting from the ice cubes. Knowing what to expect, I manage just a slight gasp as Harry parts my pussy lips again to place the second ice cube between them. This one feels bigger than the first, stretching my entrance. Harry takes hold of it, moving it in and out of my cunt, slowly fucking me with it. I groan, and he lets go of it, only to lay his chilled fingers against my clit.

“Oh, Sir…!” It feels wonderful. I squirm against his hand, hoping he might…

“Later. Maybe.” He slaps my bum, the spank hard enough to smart. “Now you need to concentrate again.”

I grit my teeth whilst Harry collects the errant balls and repositions them. The cue comes more readily to hand now. I know the drill and aim for the pink again.

And I get it. The white connects with the pink with a satisfying clunk, and the pink ball rolls directly at the corner pocket. It drops in, never touching the sides.

“Holy shit, you’re getting the hang of this. Right, do that again with the black and I’ll give you an orgasm as a special prize.”

Buoyed up by my unexpected success I fire off the next shot. Sadly, the pink was a complete fluke, I have no idea how I did it or how to repeat it. The black ball bounces in the jaws of the pocket before spinning away across the table.

“Ah well, maybe next time.” Harry moves around behind me again. There’s a clink as he selects his ice cube.

I remain perfectly still. Harry parts my buttocks with his fingers ready to slide the ice into my arse. He doesn’t hang about, pushing it firmly through the ring of muscle to nudge the one already inside. I whimper at the sensation as the original ice cube is shoved farther in. For the first time I start to wonder how many more he’ll want to put inside me. The glow of his approval is alluring, but I don’t think I can take much more of this. He had two glasses…

“What’s your score, Hope?”

“My, my score, Sir?”

“Remember, on a scale of one to ten. Where are you right now?”

Ah, right
. “Five, Sir. Six possibly.”

“One more in each hole, then we go to bed. Okay? Can you deal with that?”

“I can, I think. Yes, Sir, yes, that will be fine.” And it will. I know it will.

Sensitive, intuitive Dom that Harry is, he saw that I was struggling—the moment the scene began to turn bad for me, he saw. He knew and he asked me. My body goes limp as I relax into the green baize. I wait for the final two.

Harry doesn’t ask me to attempt the shots again. We both know that part of the scene has outlived its usefulness now. I lie, unresisting when he uses his finger to nudge the second ice cube right into my pussy, then slides the third in behind it. This time he also pushes that one right inside, effectively filling my cunt. I have a moment to adjust to the new sensation before his finger penetrating my arse elicits a low groan as the ice in there also shifts farther inside. I’m shivering, my core temperature no doubt affected by this now, despite the warmth of the summer evening. Harry says nothing. All cool efficiency, he slips the final ice cube into my arse.

“Bed?”

“Yes, please.” I try to push myself up with my hands, but Harry simply picks me up.

He turns me in his arms, cradling me, and carries me from the room. I loop my hands around his neck as he strides across the living area to the stairs. He takes those fast, and moments later we are in the master bedroom. He deposits me on the four-poster bed, my beautiful blue dress still hitched well up above my waist.

“Don’t move.” His terse instruction is sufficient to pin me in place. He strides over to the en suite and emerges within an armful of towels. “Lift up.”

Again I obey. Harry shoves the towels under me. Just as well—the ice is melting fast in my inner heat. He reaches behind me to unzip my dress then pulls it up over my shoulders. He glances back at me and shakes the creases out.

“Lose the bra.”

I comply. Meanwhile he selects a hanger from the wardrobe and hangs up my lovely dress. “You might need it again. It’s not that I’d mind buying you a new one, but shopping facilities seem a bit sparse around here.”

“Talking of which, it’d be a pity to get those trousers damp. Or the shirt. Maybe you’re a little over-dressed too, Sir.”

He grins, the gleam in his dark eyes positively wicked. “Maybe I am, but you’re not going to notice that. Lie back with your butt as close to the edge of the bed as you can. And spread your legs wide.”

I do as he said, while he grabs a pair of pillows from the head of the bed and dumps them on the floor. I close my eyes in delighted anticipation when he drops to his knees in front of me.

His uses his thumbs first, to trace my fluttering pussy lips, parting them to allow a trickle of cool water to flow from me. The act is sensuous, intimate, quite glorious. I moan, thrusting my hips against him, seeking more friction.

He dips his finger into my arse again, and more water drips from me. I feel the cool stream across my buttocks as it dribbles down to soak into the towel under my bum. I’m no longer particularly conscious of the cold—either the ice is more or less melted, or my body has acclimatized. Either way, Harry’s touch is pure bliss. He drives his finger deeper into my arse, at the same time drawing his tongue across the tip of my clit. He flicks the throbbing nub, and I lift my hips, offering more. Pleading for more. Harry provides, taking my clit between his lips and sucking hard.

“Oh, God. Sir. I need to come.”

“Not yet. I’ll tell you when you can come.”

“Sir, it has to be now. I can’t…”

“I’ll tell you when. Now concentrate.”

His Dom tone brooks no argument, no disobedience. I writhe and squirm as he continues to flick my clit with his tongue, at the same time plunging two, then three fingers into my pussy. I feel the remaining ice shift and roll inside, the lumps much smaller now but still they knock against each other. Harry twirls his fingers deep inside, and more chilled water seeps into the towels. My climax surges from deep in my pussy—I know I won’t be able to resist it much longer. Harry is unrelenting, his talented fingers pressing the remaining ice against my inner walls as he curls his digits to massage the sweet spot just right.

“Sir, Sir…”

“Hold it, honey. Almost there.”

I squeeze around him, gripping him hard, battling the pulsating pleasure threatening to overwhelm me at any moment. It’s a losing battle, but I try. Because he told me to.

“Now. Come now, Hope.”

Harry’s stern tone cuts through my haze of confused bliss, puts an instant stop to the chaotic inner war raging as I try to stave off my response. My orgasm pounds through me with the force of a tsunami, shattering my senses. I scream his name as wave after crashing wave of unadulterated ecstasy pours into every corner of my tingling body. I’m thrusting hard against his hands, his tongue, as Harry continues to stimulate me with all at his disposal. His skill is consummate, his accuracy unerring. Each time I think my climax has passed, he somehow finds the embers and whips them into life again, drawing out the pleasure for me.

Eventually, even Harry’s talent can’t maintain such a crescendo. The tingling in my nerve endings subsides, my body returns to something akin to normal. It’s a sated, breathless, heart-still-racing sort of normal, but it will do.

“I promised you nipple clamps. Sit up, please.” Harry pats my bum with the flat of his hand—a gentle tap but enough to suggest that things are about to get serious again.

“But I’m tired. Can’t that wait?”

“No. Busy day tomorrow. Auntie Janet and the rest of the Harrisons, remember?”

“I know, but…”

“Problem, Hope?” His tone has hardened. I know I need a damn good reason for arguing, or I’d better be shutting up now.

“No, Sir.” I push myself to a sitting position as Harry gets out of the bed to stroll naked across the room. Despite my misgivings about what he has planned for the next few minutes—or longer—I have to admire the view. Harry’s butt is every bit as compelling to admire as the majestic Highland setting we’ve passed through to reach here. I watch with interest as he crouches to rummage in his holdall. He turns back to the bed, his right fist clasping something small.

“Hold these for me, please.”

I hold out my hand, and he drops two hairgrips and a tangle of rubber bands onto my palm. I can see that the grips have been bent a little out of shape, the arms wider than they would normally be. I’m not entirely sure how this is going to work, but Harry seems to know what he’s doing.