Bound to You (29 page)

Afterwards Sebastian guided my leg back over his head and waited for me to lie on my back, then got up and covered my fatigued body with his. With his head buried in between my breasts, Sebastian sighed, and murmured, ‘You smell so good.’

I nuzzled and clutched him to me. I could have said the same. Sebastian smelled like evening pine by a saltless sea, I had once told him. It was still true now.

The next morning Sebastian woke me with his avid caresses. He was clearly still turned on by what had happened last night, and I knew, after even just that little bit of switching, I was in for another thorough fucking. I fumbled for his cock, already rigid, and Sebastian groaned as I stroked my fingers up and down along his shaft then teased his balls with gentle rhythmic squeezes.

Sebastian’s arousal aroused me, and he wasted no time working first his fingers into my rapidly slickening pussy, and then his cock.

‘You thought you’d gotten away with topping me momentarily, didn’t you? Well, you’re fucking wrong. Do you want to know what it feels like, hmm? Want to know what it feels like to have that sensitive place between your legs slapped?’

I shook my head. ‘No, Sebastian, I’m sorry, Sebastian. I won’t ever try and switch with you again.’ The look of menacing disappointment on his face made me ache with an absolute desire to please him. At the same time the thought of him slapping my pussy as sensually as he had my breasts filled me with delicious dread. Maybe I could provoke him to doing it anyway.

‘But Sebastian,’ I said, daringly, ‘you were hurting me. I had to make you understand.’

Sebastian laughed that dark mesmeric laugh. Oh God. He was going to give me what I wanted.

‘Turn over. I said, TURN OVER, Nichi,’ and he grabbed me by the wrists, pulling me up towards him and thrusting me down into the pillow, his hand pinned to the back of my neck.

‘Put your ass up for me. NOW.’ He slapped my cheeks to make me assume the position. He began delivering a slow, teasing hand spanking, lifting his hand off me in between strokes until I was undulating up towards him to invite the next. He struck the flesh at the bottom of my cheeks. With each slap, he created an electrifying tingle which spread not only out along my bottom but inwards and down, as if there were a channel delivering the sensation directly to my pussy, creating arousing aftershock after aftershock.

The closer inwards he moved his hand, the more electric the sensation, and the wetter I got. Each time I swooned back towards him and begged him to fuck me. Sebastian had never spanked me to this level of pleasure before.

‘You’ve had it too easy with the spanking. You thought it was all about me quietening you down. But I know,’ he bent down to my ear, ‘that you’re secretly slutty enough to want me to smack your cunt.’ He slid three fingers in and out of me in rapid succession. ‘Oh, you want it all right.’

Just that phrase left me breathless and caused me to pulse around Sebastian’s fingers. I was desperate.

‘Open your legs wider, Nichi. That’s a good little slut.’ He spanked me again with precision, three times, four, in quick succession until the entire area between my legs was burning, until even the tops of my thighs were damp. And then he struck my pussy, allowing his fingertips to strike my clitoris, before he plunged his fingers back inside me. He repeated this ritual four more times.

‘Sebastian!’ I could barely get his name out. I gasped and shivered with electrified pleasure. Sebastian stroked my hair roughly, giving it a quick vehement tug, then traced his fingers down along the curve of my back. My perfect sponge of ass was still presented for him, and he began covering my cheeks in kisses, kissing in an inward curve, just as he’d spanked me.

‘Now you’re properly quiet for once, I see.’ It was true. The spanking had utterly pacified me. Was this what it felt like to be in sub-space?

Sebastian put his hands back on to my bottom. I waited for him to penetrate me, and rubbed myself back on to his leg. Wasn’t that what he was going to do?

‘Oh, no, I want to see you.’

He spun me over and kneeled once again on my wrists, as he slid his massively hard cock into the wetness he’d created. We both moaned and clutched at each other as he sank up into me.

It didn’t take long before Sebastian’s whole body began to tighten and tremble in that way I now knew so well. He must have been slyly masturbating himself before he’d begun touching me. And then, just as he began to climax, he repeated under his breath, ‘Nichi
mou
, oh, Nichi
mou
.’

My heart seemed to hit two beats at a time. I was so startled at hearing that endearment after all this time that I clamped my legs too tightly about his cock, oversensitive after his orgasm, which caused him to suck in his breath sharply between his teeth.

There was no explanation or comment on what he’d just said. He merely stroked a hand through my hair indulgently.

When I could move, I got up to go to the bathroom and steadied myself on the sink, trying not to peer too critically at my flustered face and sex-tangled mane in the mirror. Then I smiled in spite of myself. It must mean something, mustn’t it? Sebastian had listened intently last night as I’d explained how significant that little phrase was to me and now he was using it.

Nichi
mou
. Was I really his Nichi?

Later that morning Sebastian walked me to the tube station. It was raining and he carried an umbrella, valiantly trying to shield my revealing outfit and suede shoes, both now utterly unsuitable for daytime, from the inclement weather. My eyes were smudged, my lips swollen. My hair had the kind of height whipped into it that only a night’s worth of hard sex could construct.

Passing men, builders, students and a weekday morning’s general ne’er-do-wells leched at me openly, despite my being on Sebastian’s arm.

I giggled and played up to my newly acquired whore-about-town status. ‘This is because you called me one last night, Sebastian! The world has picked up on it! Honestly, what kind of feminist totters about like this on a Thursday morning!’

Sebastian laughed. ‘You’re just a feminine feminist that likes being looked at. A femininist! Embrace it!’

We crossed over cobbles and Sebastian slowed down and held on to my wrist, concerned for my safety in the vertiginous shoes. ‘Lean on me,’ he urged.

‘I don’t need to lean on you!’ I shot back. ‘I’ve been wearing heels since I was seven years old!’

‘Aw, come on, Nichi, I’m being romantic!’ He was teasing but in the tease was a kind of confession. Perhaps this was Sebastian’s way of saying, ‘You deserve more.’ Or could it be his way of ensuring I carried on dominating my clients to procure more funds for him? I didn’t think so.

‘Honestly, Sebastian, I have
no
idea how I’ve managed without you all these years.’ I smiled slyly.

He put his hand on my face and kissed me. Once, twice, three times. Each kiss a little longer, a little more ardent then the previous one. We locked eyes for a moment. I saw something awakening in Sebastian’s face: the realisation that I mattered to him.

When I got home there was already an email from him, with links to another art show he suggested we might go to. Then later that afternoon there was a text to say he’d had a lovely time with me and not to worry about flashing my tits along Dalston High Street. ‘Think of it as a kind of community service, cheering up frustrated men on a wet Thursday!’

The next weekend we went to his suggested exhibition. It was rather lacklustre compared to the Kusama. But I didn’t care. Sebastian, I felt, was opening up to me, opening up to our very real relationship. When we got home, he went into the kitchen to fetch some water while I started to undress. He startled me when he re-entered the room.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve disturbed the lady in her chamber. Shame you don’t have your unicorn to protect you!

I started to laugh. ‘Don’t you have be a virgin or something, according to legend?’

‘Ah. I see. No, you’re right, not much chance of that with your record. Well, maybe we can create you something else. How about a hornikorn?’

I started to giggle. ‘A hornikorn?’

‘Yes, it appears when you do something particularly depraved. The less innocent you are, the more likelihood you have of seeing it.’

‘Oh my God, this is perfect! Can it be priapically purple, please? And have a black glittering horn?’

‘A horn that’s like a massive dildo? Absolutely!’

Sebastian harrumphed like a horse and squeezed me to him, playfully caressing my breasts. ‘Yes. Definitely a sacred child of the hornikorn.’

The next morning I was sore from the vigour with which Sebastian had fucked me the night before. He offered to ‘lick it better’ but I had an overwhelming urge to lick him instead.

The more violent the evening sex, the more tender the next morning, I had realised, and right now I wanted to show him just how tender I could be. He stroked my hair as I kissed my way down along his chest, over his stomach and along his stiffening cock. I took him in my hand and slid the head of his cock back and forth along the length of my lips.

‘Oh, Nichi, oh Nichi Nichi, that’s so good. That feels amazing, don’t stop.’

As my lips lingered over the head of his cock, he took his fingers and brushed them over my lips, so that he was part stroking me, part stroking himself. The sensation was exquisite. Every so often I would take him full in my mouth, then pull him up and out before encircling the head of him with my tongue and sliding him along my lips again, letting my saliva silken the end of his cock, before plunging him hard back down into my mouth, as far as my throat could accommodate him.

It took just a few minutes before Sebastian was ready to climax. ‘In my mouth, Sebastian, go on,’ I urged him, and in a few more seconds he had coated my lips and my tongue with his hot, sweet cum. No man had ever tasted better than Sebastian.

Afterwards he pulled me up to him and we kissed woozily. ‘Thank you for that.’ He kissed my head, before fixing his sleepy eyes on my face. Even half closed, they shone. ‘That was beautiful. Just another reason why you’re as unique as a unicorn.’

I felt a surge of joy rise up from deep within me and spread across my skin, as if I were suddenly bathing in a dazzling, warm turquoise sea. And then I knew it. I was in love with him.

Later that week we met up for a drink. I was dressed in a graphic print frock with a plunging neckline, accessorised with black peep-toes and tiny quirky scissor earrings I’d found in the Victoria and Albert’s haberdashery shop. I’d decided to tone it down a little after our last meeting. At least I could go to work in this outfit.

He kissed me in greeting, and immediately, and unusually for him, said, ‘Nice earrings!’

I twiddled one, puzzled. I thought they were cute. They weren’t the kind of thing that usually invited male attention.

Sebastian was smiling but he looked strained. ‘How’s your week been so far?’ I asked him.

‘Oh, you know, the usual existential struggles!’ He grinned but I could tell he was tense.

‘What’s up?’

‘Work’s not going too well. Juliet was talking about coming over here for a visit but Lana is being difficult. And my visa is probably about to expire.’

His visa? God, of course. Not since that first date had we ever really talked about his residency.

‘What’s the deal with the visa?’

‘I have until the end of the year, then if I haven’t found anyone to sponsor me, I have to go back to Montreal. Or even South Africa. I have Lithuanian ancestry and can try and apply for an EU passport that way but there’s no guarantee I’ll get it.’

That sounded bad. I swallowed.

‘And what about Juliet?’

‘It means I’m going to have to wait until Juliet’s eighteen before I can spend some proper time with her again. She was thinking about coming to work in London for a while but Lana’s never going to have it. It’s just to spite me. Yet again.’

Sebastian drained his whisky. He never drank this quickly.

‘How can I help?’ I asked.

‘You can’t,’ he replied flatly, then opened his mouth as if to speak for a moment as he stared at my earrings again. Did he really like them? Was there something wrong with them? ‘I’m going to get another one. You good?’ I nodded. I’d barely touched the glass of white wine I’d asked for.

While Sebastian was at the bar my mind raced. So he was right, I couldn’t directly help with Juliet but I could help with the visa. I mean, all I had to do to keep him in the country was marry him, right? It sounded rash, I knew. And yet the intensity of our connection over the past six months assured me it wasn’t as insane as it sounded. There was nothing I could imagine more beautiful right now than marrying Sebastian. It had taken me three years to get to a point where I had seriously considered marrying Christos, but this was different. If Sebastian couldn’t renew his visa, I’d lose him before we’d even properly had a chance to find out whether it might work. Juliet could come and stay with us. We could set her up here. I had a good job now, my career was relatively stable. I could do this. I had to think it through before I even so much as hinted it to Sebastian, though. But I flooded with a kind of love I hadn’t ever imagined feeling at the thought of it.

Sebastian arrived back with his drink.

‘Let’s change the subject.’

‘OK,’ I smiled. ‘Let’s talk about . . .’

‘Let’s talk about those suggestive little earrings of yours. Where did you get them from?’

‘The V&A,’ I replied hesitantly. ‘What’s suggestive about them?’

‘They just intimate threat. And sometimes I like a bit of threat. The right kind of threat, that is.’

‘Yeah?’ He was smiling more genuinely now. If this cheered him up I was happy to run with it. ‘A bit of threat, eh? You mean you like to think about women armed with scissors, do you?’

‘I do.’ He moved in closer to me, and whispered in my ear, ‘I like to think about castration-play porn, too.’

‘Sebastian!’ I gasped, and pulled away from him, only half-laughing. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been watching it.’ I’d seen some stuff in my time as a domme, but this was too extreme. It was the kind of thing I never understood people getting off on.