His Little Tart (10 page)

She screamed, and she suspected everyone in the county could hear her. She hadn’t meant to. Her cheeks were hot, but only some of that was embarrassment. She buried her head against his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her and held her.

It was awkward with the tree, but that didn’t matter. He was there for her. He’d protect her.

I’m getting him confused with my fantasies again. He might protect me, but that’s not why he’s here. He wants to get off, same as I did. And I just had the orgasm of my life, so I really can’t deny him. And I want it.

“Fuck me?” she asked.

“Yes.” He pulled a blanket out of his bag and spread it out on the ground, and then untied her wrists. He lowered her down on it gently and knelt down next to her.

She looked at her breasts; they were bright pink. He touched them. “Feel okay?” he asked.

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“Yes.” They were warm and tingly, but she didn’t want that sensation to stop.

“Not numb?”

“No.”

He flicked his finger against one breast, just off the peak. It stung even more than she thought it normally would. If he caught the nipple like that, she thought she might end up screaming again. Her tits felt so sensitive. “Sure?”

“Yes, Sir.” He did the same to the other one. She wasn’t sure if he was being a sadist or checking to make sure they were numb. Possibly both. “Yes!”

“Good, because I don’t want to untie you yet. I like the way you look like that.”

He grabbed her ankles and moved her feet to the corners of the blanket. Then he pushed her knees apart. Nothing was hidden, and he was definitely looking. She wanted to close them again, but she didn’t know what he’d do to her if she did. Being looked at like that was embarrassing, but the lust in his eyes made her feel beautiful.

He stood up and unbuckled his belt. He set it down on the bag. Then he bent over and untied his boots, loosening the laces until he could kick them off. Then he added his socks. She watched, wanting to see his cock. She’d felt it and knew it was hard and long and thick. But feeling wasn’t seeing. Since he could see all of her, it only seemed fair for her to see all of him.

He was watching her, she realized. Well, fine. There was no shame in wanting to see. He pulled something from his pocket, then unzipped and shucked his jeans. He had sleek, runner’s muscles, which she took in as a matter of course. Given the rest of his physique, it was what she expected. But his cock was hard and thicker than she imagined. It was going to stretch her.

He stroked it deliberately, once, twice, obviously knowing she was watching.

She’d never seen a man do that before, and she wanted him to continue nearly as badly as she wanted him inside her. She wondered what it would be like if he kept going until he spurted. Watching
her
play with herself until
she
came sounded like something a

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dom would do, but watching him seemed awfully submissive to her too. Either way, it was at his direction, and she craved that.

He opened his hand to reveal the foil wrapper he’d retrieved from his pocket and ripped it open. She’d never thought condoms were sexy before. She’d always had the sense every boy she’d been with in college had wanted to get them on and get inside, not that putting it on was part of deliberately making her wait. Watching him roll the latex over the purple head of his cock and then down the thick shaft was mesmerizing.

“I was thinking about this all night,” he said.

“Me too.”

He knelt on the blanket and positioned his cock at her entrance. She spread her legs wider. She suspected that, at least, wouldn’t earn her a slap, and she thought it might help her accommodate him. She knew he’d fit, but she had a feeling she might be sore afterward.

“Ready?” he asked, but a glint in his eye indicated he already knew the answer.

She wanted him inside too much to play games. “Yes.” She bit her lip, trying to contain her need.

He didn’t make her wait any longer but pushed forward. She felt her pussy stretch, and still there was more of him until he filled her completely. She wrapped her legs around him. If he wanted to spank her for that, let him. If he wanted to fuck her senseless, that was fine too.

His big hands covered her small breasts, still swollen inside their bindings. The touch nearly set her off again. Then he started thrusting inside her, setting a rhythm, building the pace as her slickness let him move faster. With each move forward, his pubic bone bounced against her clit, and any notions she had that this would be all about his pleasure evaporated.

She arched her hips and pushed back, rising to meet his thrusts, aching for the jolt she felt each time his cock was all the way in. His eyes narrowed in concentration. His lips were pressed tightly together. She grimaced at him and tried to hold back her

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orgasm, to see how long he could last. From his glare, she guessed he knew exactly what she was doing.

But she gave way at last. One perfect stroke and she was undone: her pussy filled, her clit rubbed, her hips hard against his, her breasts on sweet fire. Her pleasure rippled through her body like a series of waves, not one giant release but several piled on top of each other, each better than the last. He grunted his own pleasure as her pussy convulsed around him, milking his cock. She savored each little wave that followed and the feeling of his cock as it swelled and pulsed inside her. She wanted to drain every drop from his balls, take everything he had to give her.

At last he withdrew from her, deftly taking off the condom and putting it aside, and then pulling her onto his chest. Her breasts ached. What had been pleasurable, even mind-blowing as she approached her climax, was painful after. He untied the knot that held the ropes in place, and immediately, she felt a sense of relief. Her breasts tingled, but they didn’t hurt. He tugged the rope in a couple of places, and it loosened further until it was providing no pressure at all. She felt soft against him. Cuddly, even.

He kissed her forehead and held her close.

“So am I a sweet tart or a sour one?” she asked impishly.

He laughed. “I think I’m going to have to go with sweet.”

“Right answer.”

“With a bit of zest that increases the interest. You’re definitely not a cupcake.”

She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, but she had no aspirations to be a cupcake. Then again, before this weekend she had thought that any man who called her a tart was in for a slapped face. Now, she was resting happily in his arms.

A few minutes later she had almost drifted off when she heard voices, and she looked up, her body suddenly rigid. A couple was walking on the path, laughing as they talked. The woman glanced her way; the man’s gaze followed. Then they continued on.

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She gulped. She supposed that was normal enough for Bondage Ranch, but she wasn’t used to having people look in on her naked and in the obvious afterglow of sex.

What must they think of me?
Then she giggled. She supposed the worst they might think was that she was a little tart.

“What are you thinking?” asked Aidan.

“I’m not used to being looked at.”

“They’re the fourth group to come by after we started,” Aidan remarked. “It’s busier than I expected, probably because it’s such a nice day. But I think you were preoccupied.”

She blushed.
I must have been.
“And why weren’t you?”

“It’s a dom’s job to be aware, especially if his sub isn’t.”

She supposed she couldn’t argue with that. But she wanted to get clothes on, get a blanket, get something. Get covered. Being naked had been wonderful a moment ago, and now that it involved other people, she wanted to hide.

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Constance was twitching in Aidan’s arms and looking up every few seconds. He’d been pleased at how far he’d been able to take her, but what seemed fine in the heat of passion didn’t always after, and he knew that. He’d rather stay there, cuddling her lovely little body in his arms, feeling her flesh against him, and breathing in the clean air. It was even more fun when she was wiggling, damn near perfection. But she came first, and he wanted her to look back on this day with nothing but happy thoughts.

There were times for a dom to be selfish, and times for him to do what his sub wanted most and convince her that it was his idea.

“We’re done here, love. Time to further your education. Up you go.” He lifted her off and sat up, letting her scramble to her feet. Another group was approaching, and he thought he recognized Valerie’s loud voice. She was unlikely to miss a chance to stop and stare, nor would it cross her mind that Constance wouldn’t want to be the naked center of attention. He got up off the blanket and wrapped it around Constance, and the confused, panicked look in her eyes softened.

“We’ll wait for them to pass, and then we’ll get dressed.”

“Thank you.” She had a look of near-adoration in her eyes that melted his heart, although he’d have to be careful. He didn’t want her falling in love with him, because he didn’t want to break her heart. He suspected it was easier for a dom to retain some detachment than it was for a submissive, although he was feeling quite taken with Constance. He wasn’t
in
love, of course, but he didn’t think it was possible to care for someone as a dominant should without feeling love for them. And he was feeling an extra dose of it with Constance.

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He stuffed her bra and her panties in his pack. He’d return them to her later.

When he looked back up and handed her the red dress, her eyes were wide, but the adoration was gone, replaced by the sharp suspiciousness that had marked many of their exchanges.

“My choice,” he said with the tone that usually silenced most submissives. Valerie, he noticed, had indeed stopped, although the man she was with was pulling her along.

He didn’t want an argument from Constance, but he especially didn’t want one in front of company.

“The dress is too short for that,” Constance said, keeping her back to the path. She lowered her voice, but he suspected their audience could hear anyway. Both of her hands held the blanket around her, and she made no move to change that.

“Okay,” he said, with exaggerated easiness. “You don’t have to wear the dress on my account, I like you fine naked.” He folded it up again and bent down to put it away.

“No, seriously, the dress is too short.”

Valerie giggled, and Constance turned red. Aidan put the dress in the bag and zipped it closed.

“Come on, slave girl,” said the man Valerie was with, hooking a finger in the leather collar she wore. Valerie winked at Aidan and licked her lips but let herself be dragged off, and Aidan waited for them to go.

He leaned back against the tree he’d tied Constance to, crossing his arms. He didn’t really care how many people came by to watch at this point, and he was enjoying the weather. “When you’re ready, please fold the blanket and give it to me so that I can put it away, and then you can hand me my clothes so I can get dressed.”

She glared at him. Unlike her fear of being exposed earlier, he judged this more a contest of wills. And he wasn’t going to let her down by giving in. She’d never come to grips with her own submissive desires if she thought she could twist doms around her finger. Besides, he enjoyed this part.

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He could see her emotions warring within herself. Eventually, she took a deep breath. “Sir, could I please wear my panties with the dress?”

He smiled. “Well asked, my little tart. But no. Follow directions with the blanket, and then you can ask for something else, perhaps.”

“And if I don’t?”

He laughed, and she seemed to know instantly that it wasn’t a good sound. He grabbed the blanket with one hand and one of her wrists with the other, squeezing enough that her grip relaxed. Then he pulled, spinning her out of the blanket and ripping it from her other hand. He tossed it aside, picked her up, and swatted her bottom. She shrieked.

“It’s a rough world out there,” he said, punctuating his phrases with swats, “and I’m sure you need every bit of your feistiness. But here, you can let go. With me, you don’t have to be in charge. You don’t have to fight.”

He let her go, setting her back down on her feet. She was staring at him in openmouthed shock. She had no experience, he reminded himself. She didn’t know what to do, and she was too out of her element to figure out the right responses. The ones she had to fall back on by instinct were going to get her more swats.

“If you ask to wear the dress as nicely as you did for your underwear, I’ll let you wear it. And for what it’s worth, until I picked you up earlier, I couldn’t see your panties, even when you were running away from me, so it’s definitely not too short to be worn without.”

She took that in, and, to his surprise, managed it without a smart-assed retort.

“Please, Sir, may I wear the dress?”

“Good girl. You may wear the dress.”

She moved to get it from his bag, and he stopped her. “I’ll get it for you.” He didn’t want her trying to sneak the panties, because that would cause more trouble. But the feeling of her warm body in his arms again started a stirring in his groin. He hadn’t been turned on by spanking her—he never was when it was to teach a lesson rather