Here for Shaye (4 page)

He stopped at the exit, fisted the tent's door.

She hurried to explain. "He doesn't know what we do,
he thinks I'm into rope and spanking."

"Aren't you?"

"Well, yes, I am." Good point. "This is different,
you know it is."

"It's only different if you let it be. What's the
problem?"

Was that…?
Sir conquered a smile tugging on
his lips. He thought her little drama was funny. She lowered her
head and recalled being laughed at, how her ex made fun of her,
thought that she was joking when she wasn't. How her cheeks burned
with shame. Dallas might not laugh, but Shaye couldn't get into it
with people watching. Scene was so very private, it wasn't for
others, it was for him and her to share. She hoped Dallas took down
the river already.

With thoughts of clear waters ahead, Shaye crawled
to Sir's feet and placed her palms on his thighs. "I don't think
that I can do it in front of him. Or anyone."

Honesty was best. She gripped his shorts and waited
for a response. Maybe he'd adjust the scene and keep it in the
tent, or at least allow her to cover herself. Yes, he'd reason with
her. Right?

His eyes sparkled and he laughed at the top of his
lungs. Wide eyed, she watched him, his head thrown back, his hand
petting hers. What was funny? She was ready to beg.

When he came to, he gripped the back of her neck and
tugged her up. He searched her face then brushed his lips on top of
her nose. "Dallas stays. Take five, have a think then meet me
outside."

"Oh Sir please, I don't know if I can…"

His lips closed on her neck and trailed behind her
ear. She shivered, relaxed into him.

"We negotiated for days didn't we?"

"Mmmm."

"You brought him here didn't you?"

Soft lips on her neck, his warm breath, his tongue,
his rough voice…what did he say again? "Mmmm."

He chuckled. "As far as I'm concerned, whoever
doesn't like it, can take a hike." He kissed the underside of her
ear. "You and I are doing what we came here to do. You've got your
word and that's all I'm listening for. Everything besides me and
you, doesn't matter."

He slung open the tent. She squinted her eyes and
stole a quick glance towards the empty table then back at Sir. He
stood under the shade like a Viking again. All hard, tall, and
amused man. "Five minutes. Hands and knees, don't make me punish
you. Not that I need a reason," he threw over his shoulder, kicking
up gravel in his wake.

Shaye knelt and rested her forehead on the cold,
dirty floor. "I can do this." She tapped her collar. "I can. Sir is
an exhibitionist. He's an exhibitionist. Oh boy." He mentioned he
was then they let it go because it wasn't a big part of the
weekend. Sure, an onlooker here and there as people mingled down
the river, but not Dallas. She'd marked exhibition as a soft limit,
so it was open to push. She thumped her forehead on the floor. She
brought him an audience. Wow, brilliant science! Einstein would be
proud. With thoughts of brilliance she peeked out the door again,
searched the campsite. All clear.

Pulling up the bra over her pointy nipples, she
turned and searched the floor for her underwear. Five minutes were
almost out. Running late again. Where the hell were her panties?!
On her hands and knees, she speed-crawled around the tent. She
searched around the bed, on the bed and then checked the duffle
bags. Her panties laid on top of his duffle. Was he keeping them?
What else was in the duffle? She knelt beside it. She shouldn't
snoop. She shouldn't. She wanted to.

Instead, she dug into her duffle for a new pair of
pink panties.

She crawled to the tent flap, took a deep breath and
kneed her way outside. Air felt cooler out by the river and to a
desert person used to the heat, nineties was a party. Shaye was
born and raised in Palm Springs where a hearty July hit hundred and
twenty Fahrenheit, and the only saving grace was the lack of
humidity.

She stumbled over small rocks, down the alcove made
by tall bushes and trees, to the left, where Sir faced the river.
She padded across the rough stone, crunching the gravel with tops
of her knees that only ever touched cushioned carpet, tile, and
occasionally, soft California grass. Lucky for her, the ground
wasn't hot. She'd never gone camping before, didn't know what to
expect but she imagined it was beautiful and relaxing if only she
stopped thinking about Dallas coming around. If he came now, he'd
see her full back. Hair fastened up, collar on her neck, the curve
of her slender back lead way to her firm bottom and bellow, where
her pussy was exposed. Dallas would get an eyeful. What would he
think?

The closer she got to the river and the table, the
smoother the stone felt. Next to him, she knelt. His hand brushed
her hair. Knees in the water she sat back on her heels and closed
her eyes for a second. This place, kneeling beside his chair, was
everything she hoped for this weekend. He placed the back of his
hand over the chair rest. She lowered her head and kissed it, ran
her nose on his skin. She marveled in his touch, sucked up his
attention. "How did you find this place?" Sir lived in the Las
Vegas suburbs.

"Buddy of mine told me about it," he said, hand back
in her hair. "He grew up in Blythe."

Pair of jet skis rushed pass their alcove, engine
ramble interrupted the quiet mood. Sir cracked open a small bottle
of water. He cupped his hand and poured some inside then offered it
to her. Eyes locked with his, she tongued his palm and slurped the
water. He poured more down her hair and face while she tried to
keep up, lick it clean. She drank faster as not to waste then shook
her head to clear the hair from her eyes. He swiped his hand over
her face then cupped her jaw. "I drove here this morning thinking
up thousands of women, and wasn't sure what I'd get for a puppy.
You could've been anyone."

"Ditto."

"That's the issue with meeting online isn't it? You
want it to be the person with whom you've flirted with but you
don't really know until you meet them. Why did you join the chat
room?" Fingers slid her bra cups down. Her nipples, like soldiers,
perked up for him. "Take off your panties."

"Privacy," she spoke while removing her underwear.
"Anonymity, I guess. I'm there, freaky with like-minded people and
nobody bats an eye. It's fun. I didn't think I'd meet you."

"I considered taking a sub and there you were
posting pictures of pretty little puppy girls."

"Aren't there subs in Vegas? I mean, it's Vegas, a
place to be."

By the collar he guided her to kneel before him. She
placed her hands on the back of his shins and threaded them through
his coarse hair, occasionally pausing to squeeze his hard muscles.
She rested her cheek on his leg and sighed thinking there's no
other place she'd rather be right now. Or tomorrow. This weekend,
with him here, was perfect. Smooth sailing with Sir reminded her of
their messages and how close they grew in the months past. She
still couldn't believe he was here, live, in flesh.

"There are local women," he said, "but the women I
meet, or have, want more, and I simply don't have time to give them
the care they need. In the past, my encounters somehow end up
misunderstood. One girl showed up at my house and my kid—"

She lifted her head and hit the table. Ouch!

He rubbed over it feeling for bumps. "You all
right?"

"I didn't know," she said. A vortex of images of Sir
and a child, a small single family home, minivan, and a dog spun
around in her head. Oh my God, a wife. She didn't ask if he was
married, she presumed he wasn't because he approached her. But what
if he were? Blood drained from her face, her heart thumped.

"I have a son. It didn't come up before. What is
it?"

"Are you married?"

He pinched her chin. "No."

She buried her face in the small gap between his
legs. Smooth sailing. Smooth sailing.

Above her, he chuckled. "He's nineteen."

Oh man, nineteen. She lifted her head and gazed into
his eyes. This was probably why he wanted someone in her thirties,
someone closer to his forty two, not someone closer to his kid's
nineteen.

"What do you think? I'm too old for you?"

Was he…he was unsure, he seemed vulnerable, like she
would mind. "I think you're right for me."

"You say what's on your mind don't you?"

"I try."

Chair pulled back from the table, his face inches
from hers, their breaths mingled. She wanted to kiss his mouth, and
lick the dark stubble on his face, bite his Adam’s apple. She
leaned forward.

He leaned back. "Honest little puppy, will do what I
ask her to do. Feeling all warm and bad because she lied about her
age. I could take advantage of that.”

"I think you should." She inched closer, like a
magnet to steel.

"I think your mouth could use a plug."

"Why?"

"Because my dick needs attention. Show me your
tongue.”

She stuck her tongue out. His teeth clamped on it,
and held while she reached for his shorts and tried to pull them
down. She keened in the back of her throat from the pressure of his
teeth on her tongue. He leaned back in the chair, taking her with
him. Drool pooled in the back of her mouth, spilled over her chin.
She didn't even try to suck it in. The dirty, the arousing, the
humiliating part of kneeling naked and collared while he bit her
tongue, and fondled her tits, was fun. Both hands on her breasts he
squeezed, growling in the back of his throat. She growled in turn.
He pinched her nipple and she screamed. Drool dripped down her
chest. Mouths locked, her tongue numb, she pinched his inner thigh.
Her eyes smiled and his hardened then narrowed into slits.

He released her. "You want me to hurt you don't
you?" Sir stood and yanked down his pants. Ass on her heels, she
took in his height, his hard chest, and long legs. His eight and
some inches of hard, long cock would hurt going down her throat,
his mushroom top would block her airways, rush the tears down her
face. She licked her lips and wiggled her ass then placed her hands
on his thighs. She stuck her tongue out and waited.

He wouldn't give it to her. Instead, he took himself
into his hand and stroked up and down, squeezed the base, drawing
her eyes to his balls ready for sucking. She scooted closer and
brought her face to them so she could breathe him in. He slapped
her nose. She scrunched it up, held back a sneeze. One hand in her
hair he continued to stroke himself, sometimes tapping the wet tip
on her tongue. Her breasts tingled, arousal pooled. Dirty, wet
puppy. She whined softly, begging to have him in her mouth.

"Aw, do it again."

She barked.

She clung to his legs, dug her nails in his skin,
thinking if she could climb him he'd let her savor his skin. He
didn't. He stroked himself watching her. "You want to suck, little
puppy?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"This puppy is hungry."

"What's she hungry for?"

"She's hungry to please."

"What else?"

"Attention."

"Mhm,” he said with a smirk. “Puppy teeth can't have
this bone. You sure you want it?"

She gave him a sad frown.

"Let me see that cute little tongue again."

When she opened her mouth and stuck her little
tongue out, he tapped it with the tip of his cock. She closed her
mouth over it and sucked, eyes rolling near the back of her head.
Finally. Hard and smooth, he tasted of power, of leather and
thorns, of river, of nature, of male. She moaned, eyelids closed,
her mouth stretched around him, her tongue glided against his
hardness. She reached for his balls.

Three quick slaps on her left cheek.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

Her jaw rattled.

"You're a bad puppy."

She nodded, bobbed her head faster. The only thing
on her mind was the cock in her mouth. The taste of him, the silky
skin that glided against her tongue and the tip of him that hit the
base of her throat. She took cues from the hand on the back of her
neck that guided her mouth.

He bent at the knees and pulled her head to him. His
cock buried to the hilt. Throat relaxed, she still choked on him.
He was too deep inside. She gagged and swallowed, and gagged some
more. He used her mouth, fucked it fast, sometimes pausing to bury
it deep in her throat. Tears gathered in her eyes. Her stomach rose
higher with each trust.

Footsteps sounded.

Someone was coming.

Shaye tried to pull away. Sir held her head to his
middle and fucked himself faster. "It's okay, keep going."

She begged him with her eyes. Sniffing, whining,
crying against the onslaught. Dallas watched them.

Her breasts perked out, her neck was dog-collared,
her pussy glistened, and she was on her knees sucking cock. Shame
gripped her chest. She closed her eyes, let the tears of shame
spill.

Sir didn't stop, only grunted, "Bite down."

She pulled back her lips and slid her teeth against
his hard skin.

He slapped her. "Bite!"

She bit gently near the tip of his cock, held, and
cried in the earnest.

"Yes baby, that's good," he moved her head by the
grip in her hair. "Don't hold back, I like puppy teeth."

She unlocked her jaw and closed her mouth,
sniffing.

He pushed her shoulder.

She knelt on her side.

He stroked himself. "Open your mouth."

When she obeyed, he sprayed his come on her face,
not a drop in her mouth.

This puppy didn't get rewards. Tonight.

Heaving breaths, Sir dressed then sat in the lounge
chair. Shaye knelt in the shallow of the riverbank and let the cold
stream pass by her while her thoughts jumbled in a mess of shame
and arousal. She wiped his come from her face only to bathe her
tits and stomach in it. She couldn't help it, she needed to have it
on her. Chin on her slumped shoulder, she whimpered, seldom pausing
to breathe deep.