Surefire (12 page)

I start forward, intending to throw my arms around him, but he stops me with one of his imperious Dom gestures and I subside back onto my knees, my eyes downcast although inside I’m singing. And he knows it.

“Are we done talking for now? Can we continue?”

“Yes. Yes, Sir.”

“Excellent. Then please turn around.”

Again, I turn away from him and wait.

“Lean forward please, put your hands on the bed in front of you.” His instruction is delivered in his soft Dom tone, firm, commanding, but infinitely courteous.

I do as he’s asked, and he steps forward, placing his palm on my bottom to gently caress each globe there before sliding his hand down the back of my left leg. Reaching my heel, he gently slides his hand underneath, lifts my foot to slip the ankle strap from one end of the spreader bar onto my left ankle. He tightens it, sliding his fingers under it to make sure it’s secure but not uncomfortable. He then repeats the action with my right ankle.

“I’m going to push your ankles apart now. Don’t try to resist, you’ll end up with unpleasant bruises, just open your legs wide and support yourself on your hands. Okay?”

“Yes, Sir.” I place my weight on my arms as he pulls my ankles wide apart, the spreader bar opening between them. At last—satisfied he has me positioned to his liking—he stops and locks the bar in place. I push myself up on my hands, turn to look at him over my shoulder. “Is this a spanking position?”

“Could be. Not this time though. This time, it’s your arse I’m interested in. Give me your hands, the right one first please.”

Puzzled, I reach back, unsteady now as I try to balance on my widely spread knees and just my left hand. He takes my hand and quickly secures my wrist to my right ankle. “Now your other hand.” The outcome now obvious, I let him position my left hand and secure it to my ankle, forcing my weight forward. I turn my head, my cheek flat on the bed, my shoulders now taking my weight. My bottom is in the air, my thighs spread wide, offering a perfect view. Tom straightens, stands back to admire me from the foot of the bed.

“Looking so good, Ashley, so damned good. I love you so smooth, so truly naked. Are you comfortable?”

“I—not exactly.”

“Oh, dear, sorry about that. This better?” And he slips one long finger inside me, fast, hard, deep. I cry out, and he immediately withdraws it. “Better with, or without? Which do you prefer, Ashley?”

I gasp, clench around the emptiness inside me, then respond, “With. It’s better with.”

“Then say ‘please’.”

“Please. Please…”

“Please what?”

“Please, Sir.” I grind out the words, my body desperate now for some contact, for friction, for anything. I can feel the wetness gathering, flowing freely now as my anticipation mounts, my clit and pussy quivering, aching to be touched again as he makes me wait. Makes me beg.

“You’re very wet, Ashley. Tell me, what makes you wetter? This, or this?” He plunges two fingers inside me, at the same time as he reaches under me with his other hand to flick my clitoris. “Which do you like best?”

I groan, desperate to move, to raise myself up farther, press against him, but I’m completely immobilized, helpless. His fingers are still inside me, but unmoving now. I squeeze around them, clenching.

“Ah, baby, that feels good. I want you to do that to my cock soon. Will, you do that, if I put my cock inside you will you squeeze me like that?”

“Yes, yes, anything. I just, please, I need you to…”

“This? Is this what you need? What you want?” And at last his fingers are moving, sliding in and out of me, thrusting, exploring, probing. He angles them to hit my inner pleasure spot, stroking it, pressing on it.

I scream, stiffen under his hands. Again he reaches for my clit, this time tracing his fingertip lightly along its length, front to back. I’m gasping now, moaning, rocking as I try desperately to achieve the release I need. My climax starts to build, I feel it surging deep within me, my senses all coalescing on that spot where he’s exploring me with his fingers, stroking, pressing hard. I start to shake, to stiffen ready for the inner pyrotechnics just moments away now. And he stops. Again he stops. I’m almost crying now, my frustration painful, unbearable. I’m swearing under my breath, always dangerous around Tom in Dom mode and this is no exception. He slaps my bottom hard, once, twice, three times.

“Be polite, Ashley. Now, we’ve got you warmed up a little, so it’s time for some proper fun.” There’s a faint squelch of lube as he squirts it onto his fingers, then directly onto me, onto my anus beautifully displayed and positioned for him. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t need to as his intentions are perfectly clear. Even so, I gasp as he penetrates me with his finger, gently but firmly circling to open the sphincter. Quickly he works a second finger inside me, and I groan as he presses deeper.

“Am I hurting you? I’m doing this quickly today. You do seem to be opening nicely, but I can slow down.” His fingers are inside me, but he stops, waits for me to respond.

And I do. “No, I’m fine.”

So he continues. His firm, thrusting movements make short work of any further muscular resistance, and soon three well lubricated fingers are thrust fully inside my anus. Holding them there, and using them to keep me in position, he again reaches for my pussy, finger fucking me mercilessly until I’m on the point of climax once more. And this time I’m not surprised when he stops a fraction short of the mark. I’m frustrated, desperate, ready to weep, to beg, to promise anything if he’ll only let me come. But not surprised. Pulling his fingers from my pussy but continuing to possess my bum, he leans over me, lifts the hair from my face.

“Look at me, Ashley. Tell me what you want me to do to you.” His voice is quiet, soft and low and seductive. I open my eyes, and he holds my gaze, smiling, knowing. “Do you want me to let you come now?”

“Yes. Please. Please, Sir…” I can hear my ragged breath, the catch in my voice.

“And what if I say no? What if I decide you haven’t earned an orgasm? What then? Maybe I should let you wait a little longer, you’d appreciate it all the more.”

“No, please don’t. Please, Tom, Sir, I need you to— Please make me come now. I can’t bear this…”

He smiles at me as he nods, the expression warm and sensual. “Okay then, lovely Ashley. As you’ve asked me so nicely. I’m going to let you come, then I’m going to fuck you. Here.” He jerks his fingers in my anus to make sure I’m under no illusions about what’s coming.

I close my eyes again, wait for him to make good on his promise. And this time I don’t have to wait long. He trails his clever fingers once more along my clitoris, but this time pressing firmly, rubbing harder as I start to writhe and moan, as the orgasm fluttering just below the surface surges forward, past the point of no return, and continuing to work me as I convulse and clench and scream as the sensation overwhelms me. Wave after glorious, delicious wave of sensual delight washes over me, through me, starting at my quivering core and rushing outwards, then back again as he draws every last tingle of my response from me, wrings every last gasp and moan from my throat. At last, it’s done. At last I start to calm again, to regain my senses. I’m boneless, my muscles useless. I’d collapse fully onto the bed but I’m held in place, unable to move a muscle.

Wordlessly, Tom takes his time sliding his fingers out of me. There’s a snap of latex as he slips a condom on before I feel his hands on my hips and the head of his cock slipping just inside my anus. Easily, slick, he’s obviously smeared lube over the condom too to insure an easy entry. I’m grateful for that as he presses home, slides fully into my unresisting body.

“Christ, baby, that feels so good.” He pulls back, right out of me, then repeats the process again. And again.

Each time he withdraws fully, just for the sheer joy of entering me again. And each time he’s faster, plunging harder, deeper, until I cry out. Then he stops, it’s enough, and he thrusts more gently, takes his time, the friction building as he uses me, plays with me, enjoys me. Then he leans forward, his fingers once more at my clit, this time the familiar rolling and tugging. It’s good, gloriously good, and I make a soft purring in my throat, the only sound I’m capable of. Again, my climax starts to build, but this time he urges me on, his words of encouragement heightening my wild, wicked pleasure.

I come again, less violently this time, but every sensation exquisitely teased from me. And he’s there, with me. Tom gives a muttered curse, the pressure within me increasing as his thrusts gather strength, and the final deep, stiff plunge as he holds me still and finally he ejaculates deep inside me.

He pulls out immediately, and I wait, expecting to be released from the spreader bar, to at last be allowed to collapse onto the bed and sleep. Instead he gets off the bed and walks across the room. Exhausted, I force myself to prize my eyes open. I see him dispose of the condom in the bin, and note idly that somehow, incredibly, he’s still fully dressed in his jeans and white T-shirt. He picks something up from the dressing table, comes back toward me, sees me watching him. He holds the object up between his thumb and forefinger. A butt plug. A big one. I moan, surely he can’t…I can’t.

Seemingly he can. And so can I. He uses his left hand to ease the cheeks of my bum apart and the other to slip the butt plug inside my anus. It
is
big. And it’s fucking cold. I shriek and earn myself a swift, hard slap.

“No rude words, Ashley. I’ve warned you. Swear at me again and I’ll put more stripes on this lovely arse of yours. Is that clear?”

My bottom smarting, my back passage shriveling around the icy intruder, I’m almost sobbing.

“Is that clear, Ashley?” Another hard slap.

I force myself to answer. “Yes. But it’s cold.”

“Mmm, not long out of the freezer. I remembered how much you liked the ice lolly trick. Are you swearing at me again?”

I’m sobbing now, gulping in air, shaking. I answer him desperately, “No! No, I’m not. I promise. Please, I don’t want you to hit me.”

He hesitates, leans in close. “Ashley, are you safe wording?”

“No. Yes. Yes. Amber. It’s amber…” I’m sobbing, oddly hurt and humiliated, exposed, vulnerable and wishing he’d just be nice to me.

His palm is on my bum again, but soft this time, a soft caress. He calms me by his gentle touch, his quiet, tender words. “I’ll take it out, if that’s what you want. But if you can stick with it, it will be good. I’ll make it feel good, for you. I promise. And no more spanking, at least not tonight. No matter how rude you are. Deal?”

“Yes. Deal. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You can safe word any time you like. Remember that, Ashley. Okay, so no spanking, but what
do
you want? This maybe?” He slides his fingers inside my pussy once more, gentle, soothing, warm in contrast to the frigid presence in my anus.

I shiver, the clash of sensations overwhelming my senses, confusing me, stimulating me wildly.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, yes, that’s… Oh, yes.”

He pleasures me lazily, readying me again before he stands, swiftly peels off his jeans and T-shirt then comes to kneel behind me. “I think a nice, hard fuck now. That suit you?”

Beyond words I mumble something incoherent, but he assumes it to be agreement. Leaning over me now on all fours, he slips his cock into me. It’s wonderful, absolutely wonderful. I moan, and remember his instructions of much earlier, that I should squeeze him. I clench my inner muscles, deliberately convulsing, seizing him, holding him, caressing him with my body in the only way I can. He holds my hips, sliding his palms up my sides to cup the undersides of my breasts. I savor every stretch and scrape of flesh on flesh, his hardness stretching and filling me.

Almost spent, the pleasure builds by degrees this time, but builds nevertheless. Tom’s moans of appreciation tell me that the feeling is mutual. The intensity of the cold inside me soon dissipates and the exquisitely gentle pressure inside me takes over, increasing the sense of fullness and heightening the pleasure of every stroke. This is slow, comfortable fucking, sweet, gentle and achingly tender. Despite my restraints I arch under my Dom, totally his, purring once more as my pleasure washes me, warms me, wraps around me.

My orgasm, when it finally comes, takes me softly, smoothly, tumbling me into the feather bed of shared sensuality as we surrender together. The warm wash of Tom’s semen splashes across my cervix then fills my pussy, adding to the pools of moisture already coating me. He slows, and finally he’s unmoving inside me. He leans forward to kiss my neck before gently withdrawing. He swiftly unfastens my restraints, first my wrists then my ankles, and I at last collapse in a tangle of aching limbs. I hear the thud of the spreader hitting the floor, then Tom lifts me, tugging the duvet back to ease me underneath it. He pulls the quilt up to my chin, crouching beside the bed to nuzzle my nose with his.

“I need to talk to you, now, while it’s fresh in your mind. While you can remember just how you felt. Are you okay? Was I too rough with you there? You said you didn’t want me to hit you…”

I open my eyes, smile at him. “It was good. Really. I’m fine.”

“Ashley? Tell me.”

I open my eyes again, force myself to concentrate. This is important. “It’s nothing. I like it when you, when you—spank me. Really. Most of the time. It’s just that, sometimes, I need you to just—be kind to me. But I can’t always ask, can’t always say exactly how I’m feeling when you’re… When we…”

“You
can
tell me, that’s what safe words are for. And eventually you did, but not before you’d become upset, scared. You’re my submissive, so it’s my job to know. To listen. And to know when ‘no, don’t’ means just that. Safe words are fool proof though. As soon as you said ‘amber’ I knew what you needed. Next time you feel like that, please, tell me earlier.” He nuzzles my nose again, kisses my lips lightly. “So, are we okay, love?”

I close my eyes again, almost asleep now, and mutter my final words to him on this subject. “Yes. Always.”

Chapter Ten

The morning after he introduced me to the highs and lows of the spreader bar, Tom rustles up our customary bacon sandwiches and coffee, and settles himself across from me at the kitchen table. We’re both chewing quietly, planning the day ahead, when he fixes me with a look—that look of his that signals something serious coming my way. I know what it’s likely to be.