Spirit (23 page)

We’ve worked out how to share the house, and I suppose you could say the four of us rub along together very well.

Sharing the bedroom though, is a different matter entirely. Since our first encounter, Matt has shown himself to be a powerful, unrelenting dom. He’s kind to me, always happy to talk, to explain. A caring teacher. At the same time he’s stern, demanding, and tireless, whereas I find myself exhausted by the time he eventually allows me to collapse into his bed and sleep.

He kept his word and burned the ball gag, and good riddance to that. But he has introduced me to everything else in his toy box, and I’ve loved all of it. Matt has released my inner slut, and she’s a demanding little strumpet.

It seems she’s in for a treat tonight. I’m perched in the driver’s seat of the four by four enjoying a glorious spring afternoon as viewed from the vantage point of High Whitley Scar. The rooftops of Upper Shay Farm are just visible in the valley, and across on the opposite hillside the sun is dappling the new growth as the grass ripples in the soft breeze, a hundred dazzling shades of green. I take a break from admiring the view to peer at my laptop, putting the finishing touches to my design before we pass the point of no return tomorrow. I pull my phone from my pocket to re-read the text I received from Matt earlier this afternoon.

Tonight, be on time. Will bring pizza. And peppermint oil.

Peppermint oil. That means one thing—some serious anal action. I hope. Perhaps tonight Matt will smear some of the oil on a butt plug and put it right inside me. He’s been promising me that as we’ve played with the oil over the last few weeks, getting the right dilution to deliver enough intensity but without real discomfort. It’s a delicate balance. I clench my bum in a heady reflex of desire, lust and trepidation. I love the hot and cold sensation, but right inside?

Well, we’ll soon see.

The phone pings again as I hold it in my hand. I read that text.

Be naked when I get there. We eat first, then play. Grit your teeth, girl.

I tap in my reply.

Looking forward to it. Been needing some sir time.

You’ll have it. Do not be late!

As if.

* * *

I arrive back at Matt’s house just as it’s dropping dark, having given my usual detour to Annie’s kitchen a miss. He won’t be here for another hour at least, perhaps two so I have plenty of time to prepare. Even so, after accepting Ethel’s effusive greeting and letting her run in the garden for a few minutes while I chat to George, I rush upstairs and turn on the shower. Twenty minutes later, hair dripping, I apply copious amounts of body lotion, knowing that there will be no part of me to escape scrutiny. Matt is very thorough.

Satisfied, I slip a loose robe on as I go back down to the living room to wait. I slip it off as soon as I hear Matt’s car in the drive, and sink to my knees to greet him.

Matt has never insisted that I kneel. I want to, it gets my head in the right place. I keep my eyes fixed on the floor a couple of feet in front of me as he enters the room. He says nothing, but I hear his footsteps as he approaches. He stops behind me and lifts my hair from my neck. It’s still slightly damp.

“You showered.”

“Of course, sir.”

“You smell nice.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You look good too. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Thank you. You too, sir.”

“You haven’t looked up and seen me yet.”

“I saw you this morning, sir. You looked gorgeous then. And you always smell good.”

“That’s the pizza, my precious little slut. I left it in the kitchen. Would you go and bring it in here please?”

“Of course, sir.” I get to my feet, with a commendable degree of grace I hope. I’ve been practising. Unhurried, I make my way into the kitchen, aware of the shimmer of Matt’s gaze on my retreating rear. I give a deliberate sway of my hips as I leave the room.

I return, the large pizza box balanced in my arms and the bottle of cola perching somewhat precariously on top of it. Matt has dragged a low table into the middle of the room and I bend to lay the box flat on top of it.

“Will we need plates, sir?”

“Looking for more excuses to cavort around, waving your tush at me, girl? I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready.”

“Of course, sir. I apologise.”

“No you don’t. You’re having too much fun to be sorry. I could help you with that, if you like.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“I could help you to be a little more contrite. Would you appreciate my assistance?”

“Of course, sir. Always.”

“We’ll start with that then. First though, eat. You’ll need your strength.”

I smile and lower myself to my knees again in front of the table. Matt is seated in an armchair facing me. I open the box and offer him the first slice of aromatic chicken supreme. He accepts with a sensual leer. I rather think we’ll both be needing the sustenance.

I take a piece for myself and we eat in silence for a few minutes. Matt gets up and fetches two glasses for the cola. He could have instructed me to serve him, but that’s not really how we do things. I’m always happy to obey him, but he rarely orders me about—unless it’s to tell me to spread my legs, or bend over. He pours me a drink, then his own

I glance up at him as I sip mine, to see he has his dom face on. I know that look, stern and unyielding, his eyes glinting and his eyebrows lowered as he regards me, hinting at things he knows and I don’t. I have a good idea what he plans for this evening, but Matt often surprises me. It’s one of his finer qualities. Something swirls and starts to awaken deep inside me, my answering submission. My unquestioning acceptance. My pussy is wet, and my hands are already shaking though I am neither cold nor afraid. Matt can arouse me with a look, a gesture, just a lift of his finger and I melt.

My appetite is satisfied, at least as far as pizza is able to achieve that. I lick my fingers, then wipe them on a napkin.

“Had enough?” His voice is soft, deep and rich, like fine velvet. I look up at him and nod.

“Then stand up please and touch your toes, Beth. And don’t move until I tell you to.”

I get to my feet and step away from the table. By unspoken agreement we both know the remains of the pizza will still be here later, as long as Ethel doesn’t manage to break in here. We’ll take that risk. I lean forward, bending at the waist to reach for my feet. I plant my hands on the rug in front of me, enjoying the tingle of tension in the lowest part of my belly as I listen to him unbuckling his belt and sliding it out from the belt loops on his finely creased dress trousers. He moves to stand behind me, and I half-expect a sensual caress across the globes of my upturned bottom.

The whistle of his belt flying through the air is the precursor to an explosion of white heat moments later. I gasp, then sigh. The pain across both my buttocks is pure, cleansing, even more refreshing than my shower earlier. I shift my weight form one foot to the other, my body shivering in heady delight. Matt waits.

“Sir, could you please do that again?”

“Of course, my sweet. I’ll tell you what, I’ll carry on until you tell me to stop. Would you like that?”

I don’t usually want to control my spankings in this way. I prefer to let Matt call the tune, treat me as he pleases. I trust him, I know he will never go too far. Even at his most severe, Matt is always unfailingly considerate, and polite. Gentle even, in a weird, brutal sort of way. He’s never rough, and at the first hint of resistance or struggle on my part he stops, always checking, always talking. There is never so much as the merest hint of coercion with Matt.

By inviting me to set the limits of this though, he is signalling that I will not get to do so later. I accept that, sinking deeper into my submissive fog.

I hold my position as Matt rains stroke after stroke across my delicate buttocks, each stripe with his belt sending a searing pain across my bum. I imagine the red wheals, glowing, blossoming, and I hope they’ll still be there to be seen tomorrow, though they rarely are.

I count, for no better reason than I like to experience the cloudy, fuzzy sensation as the numbers eventually slip away from me, dancing just out of reach as I struggle to catch them. I know, the moment I lose touch with them entirely, that it’s time to call a halt. I want my senses to be sharp enough to savour the intensity of what’s to come, not blunted by endorphins.

“Enough, sir. Stop now, please.”

The breathy whistle of the belt flying through the air stops, and the room is silent but for my sighs, and Matt’s slightly raised breathing. He drops the belt on the floor by my feet. I see it curling on the rug, the stiff black leather shiny and dark against the soft sheepskin. He shifts to stand close by me, looping one arm around my waist, his hand underneath me, palm against my stomach, With his other hand he massages my blistered bottom, soft at first, his touch delicate, gossamer light. Then it becomes heavier, his fingers pressing on my smarting bum as though to work the burn right in. The sensation softens from the heat of the spanking to a deeper, more satisfying ache which sinks into my very bones. Matt curls his fingers to scratch at my skin with his nails, paying particular attention to the sorest places. It feels heavenly and I lift my bottom higher for him, wishing he might never stop.

As he slips his hand into the crevasse between my cheeks I spread my legs, my pussy positively drooling in liquid welcome. Matt slides the flat of his hand the length of my cunt, gathering my wetness and smearing that across my tingling backside.

“Loving this, little slut? Yes?”

“Yes, sir. So much.”

“Me too. I want you to stand up now.”

“Sir?” I know better than to protest, my brief interlude of control is over. But still, the effort of moving, and the loss of this sweet caress is painful to contemplate.

“Hold on to me if you need to, and stand up straight.” Matt’s hands under my chest help me to ease back upright, though I’m glad of his steadying arms. I manage a smile as my head clears a little.

“Take these up to the bedroom…” He hands me a small, clear bottle which he had in his pocket, and a butt plug. This is the peppermint oil. I clutch it in one fist while I peruse the butt plug in my other hand. It’s one we’ve used before, the largest one I’ve managed to tolerate so far, and that with difficulty.

“Go upstairs, grab a towel from the bathroom on the way. A large one. Spread it on the bed, then kneel in the centre of it. While you wait for me I want you to smear some of the oil on your nipples, a generous coating, as much as you can manage. Then coat the butt plug in the oil too.”

“I understand. Do you want me to lubricate my arse as well?”

“No. I’ll do that. When I come in I expect to see you leaning forward, your face on the bed and your bum in the air ready for me. Your knees need to be as wide apart as you can manage. When you’re nice and comfortable place your hands in the small of your back and I’ll tie them there.”

“Why are you tying me up? I won’t try to move.”

“Ah, baby I think you will. You’ll be wriggling and screaming something delightful. If you don’t, I’ll know I need to put more peppermint in the oil. Somehow I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

“This is strong stuff, then?” I shake the contents, sending them splashing around the small bottle.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you, now would I?”

“I don’t believe you ever would, sir.”

He drops a kiss on my forehead, and pats my bottom. “Go, girl. I’ll be there in a minute.”

In the bedroom I do as I’ve been instructed, draping a large bath towel over the bed, then another for good measure. I scramble into the middle and unscrew the top off the bottle. I pour a little oil onto my fingers and smear it across my right nipple. The chilly heat of it warms the swelling bud instantly. I repeat on the other side, then take a moment to rub the oil in. It smarts, the sensation increasing as the oil penetrates the delicate skin. I stiffen, allow the tingling to build and sear, then subside slightly as my body accepts what is happening. At that moment I tip up the bottle again and re-apply it.

The scent is delightful, filling the room, in sharp and cruel contrast to the ferocious prickling now seeping right into my pebbled nipples. I practise breathing deep and evenly, allow my body to adjust again. This is enough.

I pour a little of the oil into a saucer I grabbed from the kitchen on my way upstairs, and drop the butt plug into it. I roll it around, making sure there is no part of it which is not covered in the oil. My gut twists, the pain in my nipples is nothing compared to how this will feel inside me. Matt knew I would realise that, make the comparison, and this is why he instructed me to apply it and wait for him. He wants me to have time to sweat, to let my apprehension build. It’s working.

I place the saucer with the butt plug in it on the bedside table and take up the position required by Matt. I’ve only just settled in place when I hear his footsteps on the stairs from the hallway below. I twist my neck to peer at him over my shoulder. He’s removed his shirt, but still has his trousers on. I notice he’s barefoot though, and the button on his trousers is undone.

My pussy clenches. He looks so deliciously sexy, so rumpled but still sharp, still in control. When he prowls around the room looking like that I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t let him, no, beg him to do to me.

He picks up the bottle of oil from beside the saucer, glancing at it, then at my waiting arse.

“Should I warm this, Beth?” He doesn’t wait for my answer. “No, I don’t think so. It’ll feel warm enough, especially inside…” He slips the bottle back into his pants pocket before opening the lid of the blanket box at the foot of the bed. He takes out a pair of leather cuffs and tosses them onto the towel.

“These, I think.”

He closes the box and walks around to sit on the bed beside me, leaning across casually to grab the cuffs. He says nothing as he fastens them around my wrists, then uses the built-in clips to link them together. I prefer leather cuffs to rope, and these ones are lined in some sort of soft fabric so they are comfortable to wear despite being quite tight. I don’t like metal handcuffs much and we rarely use them.