The Red Collection (29 page)

‘OK, then …’ Caroline didn’t dare say anything else. Her knees almost went weak with the old familiar thrill and her entire body was already tingling. She felt a prickle of sweat break out amongst the roots of her short, blonde hair.

‘What are you doing? I was looking forward to that!’ demanded Maggie.

Caroline was putting cling film over the top of the dish
that
contained the base of the strawberry shortcake she’d been just about to decorate with more cream. Not giving herself time to bottle out, she slid the whole thing back in the fridge.

‘You’ll see,’ she replied, her spirits soaring. It was rare that they got a chance to show off outside of certain very special parties, and the regular, much-anticipated fetish nights at a local hotel. At any other time it was almost impossible to indulge her wayward streak as a sexual exhibitionist. Taking a carton of chocolate truffles, she arranged them quickly on a serving dish.

‘What’s this?’ demanded Jonathan when she and Maggie returned to the dining room with the coffee. His dark eyes sparkled at the sight of the relatively empty tray. ‘I thought we were having your famous strawberry shortcake? I’ve just been telling Allen how it’s your signature dessert and now he’s really looking forward to it.’

‘I’m afraid I ate some of it at lunch time. I couldn’t resist it,’ said Caroline, flashing the astonished Maggie a quick look. ‘I thought we could skip dessert, just this once. Surely we’ve all had enough to eat.’

‘But I would like a dessert course, Caroline,’ said Jonathan, and Caroline kept her face straight even though she wanted to grin. Her husband had a very modest appetite. For food, that was. ‘And I’d promised Allen something special.’ His eyes twinkled as he caught on to his wife’s game

‘I … I’m sorry,’ muttered Caroline. She couldn’t look at Maggie now, or at Maggie’s pleasant young husband, Allen. She had eyes only for her own dark, beloved Jonathan. A dark, beloved and very stern-eyed Jonathan now.

‘Are you?’ he said softly, ‘Are you really? I don’t think you are.’

‘I am!’

‘In that case, how do you propose to show me that you’re sorry?’

‘I … I don’t know.’ She pretended to hesitate, even though her mind was clear and sharp, full of delicious anticipation, and her body was awash with desire. ‘I … I could offer an alternative dessert?’

‘I think you’d better,’ said Jonathan, looking distinctly devilish in his black shirt and trousers and his black silk waistcoat. He always loved to ramp up the drama and dress the part. ‘Perhaps you could help clear the table a little,’ he said, turning his coal-dark gaze on Maggie.

Caroline stole a glance at the younger woman, and saw a flash of confusion, and then rapid understanding, and a slight smile.
My God, she’s quick, a perfect natural
. Allen too looked excited, his hazel eyes bright and his cheeks a little flushed.

Between them, the two women moved aside glasses, cutlery and tableware. Caroline’s heart thudded. She hadn’t been wrong. This was going to work; the other couple were with them. Jonathan himself removed her chair so there was space to move in, as Maggie went back to her seat, and like her husband, sat in silent rapt attention.

Caroline faced her husband. He was a lean man of average height, but somehow he still seemed to loom over her, like a god, like a nemesis.

‘Now, my dear,’ he said, his voice low and sultry, ‘as you’ve so selfishly denied Maggie and Allen their strawberry shortcake, I think the very least you can do is provide them with the best in after-dinner entertainment.’ He pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘Take off your dress, Caroline. We’d like to see your body.’

Caroline’s skin flushed, first with the chill of familiar
nerves
, then burning hot. She was proud of her body but part of her still balked at the idea of stripping off to order and being exposed to others like a trophy. It was a pure, atavistic reaction. Jonathan was denying her all protection, not just physically but emotionally. He wanted to display her vulnerability, and all her fears and joys to their companions. But even while she hesitated, the coils of passion were stirring and tightening, making her ready, making her wet.

Unzipping her dress, she experienced a hyper-awareness of every movement. Each step, each shift of weight, seemed to make her more aroused. Her pussy was agitated, quickening with lust, already awash. A part of her psyche silently begged her husband to let her retain her bra and knickers; while the other part, the stronger, truer, raunchier side of her nature, revelled in the chance to reveal every bit of her horny state.

Without being asked, Maggie stepped forward to take the unwanted dress from Caroline. She gave her a nervous smile, but her eyes were brilliant and eager. Caroline saw Allen give his wife a nod of approval, and then the younger man’s eyes re-focused on the centre of attention. She could almost feel his hot gaze stripping the delicate lingerie from her body.

‘Now, your bra, my dear,’ continued Jonathan, in a tone that was both arch and conversational, ‘Peel down the straps, then get your tits out of the cups so we can see them.’ She knew he was being crude to enhance the drama, for effect. Normally he was the most refined and respectful of men.

Caroline obeyed him, longing to fondle her own nipples in the process, but managing to control herself. There was a special sweetness in denial that made her sex throb.

‘Now the tights and knickers … Just to the knees, I think.’

Demon!

Fumbling with her undies and hosiery, Caroline wanted
to
crawl on her knees and kiss her husband’s feet. He knew how her submissive side thrilled when she was hobbled this way; that was why he insisted on tights for her instead of stockings and suspenders, the more obviously sexy choice. This arrangement accentuated her bottom too; her best feature in both her and Jonathan’s opinion.

‘Now, Allen, would you like to help me choose an implement? Maggie, you can do me a favour and check what’s going on between my dear wife’s sluttish thighs … And you, my dear, turn and face the wall, spread your legs a little so she can reach you, then don’t speak a word or move a muscle.’ The orders were quiet, but they were still orders. Her Master’s dictates.

It was difficult to obey them, though, especially when Maggie’s gentle, tentative finger slipped between her sex-lips. Caroline was grateful she couldn’t see the others’ faces; see the way they would be looking at her bare bottom, and her thighs. Jonathan was right about her being sluttish, and the admiration in their eyes would only make her want to show off even more, wriggling and testing the limits of the pushed-down knickers stretched between her knees, behaving like a trollop. The urge to move, and to moan, was almost irresistible, especially when Maggie whispered ‘sorry’ and began to rub her. The men were murmuring over Jonathan’s collection of punishment implements now – his most prized items that he kept discreetly tucked away in the bottom drawer of the china cabinet – and might not have been able to hear her, but Caroline still kept as quiet as she could. Her Master had spoken and for now his word was her law.

‘You might caress her bottom a little too, Maggie,’ said Jonathan casually, not interrupting his selection process.
‘Test
the texture of the skin there. Be gentle … She might appreciate the memory of that later.’

Caroline closed her eyes. There was a sensation of the ground giving way beneath her, and she fought to brace her legs and not crumple. Maggie’s fingers were sticky against the bare skin of her buttocks, and their touch there was more exciting, in a way, than being masturbated.

‘You’re enjoying this too much, my dear,’ said Jonathan in her ear, and Caroline did sway then. She’d been so out of it, so lost in the waiting, that she hadn’t heard him move. ‘Don’t you worry. We’ll soon put a stop to that.’ She felt him take Maggie by the wrist and lead her away.

The delay after that seemed interminable. Caroline was anxious to proceed; hungry to begin. She wanted the process to be over too, for the pleasures afterwards, but somehow, also, she didn’t. The rewards could be heavenly, but the process had its own perverse charms. She almost fainted when Jonathan spoke again.

‘Now then, my sweet little show-off, let’s have you over the table. You know the drill.’ His voice lowered and became sterner, but paradoxically he also sounded proud. ‘And with as much grace as you can, Caroline. I don’t want our guests to feel cheated.’

Hardly daring to breathe, hardly daring to think how she might get through this with any kind of equilibrium, Caroline draped her body against the damask of the table cloth. The figured cloth was cool and tickly against her nipples, and the hard wood of the table’s edge pressured her crotch.

‘Keep still, Caroline,’ her husband ordered softly. ‘You will be moved by one of us, if necessary.’

Caroline bit her lip, wanting to groan with desire but knowing she mustn’t.

‘Allen, perhaps you’d like to arrange her?’ he added after a moment. ‘Legs more open, I think. As much as the elastic allows … It’d be nice to have more access to the inside of her thighs.’

Strange hands, wider and warmer than her husband’s, settled upon her, and the fact that they were shaking was a comfort. Allen and Maggie were as apprehensive and excited as she was. This was a whole new world to them, a new dimension of experience and opportunity. She felt Allen palpate her slightly, then slyly finger her anus in the course of his adjustments. Ah hah, he was clearly just as precocious, and as much a natural, as his wife.

‘Now then, you two, why not take up a position behind me?’ suggested Jonathan, and Caroline heard the creak of leather, and a swish, as he tested the implement. ‘That way you can see everything. Every stroke. Every wriggle. The way the redness blooms … Caroline’s skin always marks beautifully.’

There was the sound of shuffling, and an intake of breath. Jonathan had shown Maggie the implement now – that was certain.

‘Yes, Maggie, it’s a leather strap. I’m going to spank my wife with a leather strap as a chastisement for her shortcomings.’

‘Will it hurt m-much?’ Maggie stammered, and her soft, fearful voice made Caroline want to leap up and cover her new friend’s face with kisses. What a sweetie she was.

‘Of course it will hurt!’ Jonathan laughed merrily and there was the sound of the strap being hefted – very lightly – against his own hand. ‘It’ll hurt a great deal. It’ll be agonising and humiliating. There wouldn’t be much point to the exercise otherwise, would there? I can see that Allen has a huge amount to teach you, my dear.’ The sound of steps came
now
; he was getting into position. ‘Now come, let’s not waste any more time. Caroline?’ His attention had at last focused solely on his purpose. Upon her, his bared and penitent wife. ‘Do you understand why I have to do this?’

She nodded, almost choking with anticipation, capsizing with love and lust.

‘Are you going to be a good girl? And take your medicine quietly and with modesty? No throwing yourself about. No shrieking. No clasping yourself, no touching and no rubbing?’

She nodded again, the very words, the very reminders, already making the sins themselves more infinitely desirable.

‘I mean anywhere.’ His voice was controlled, yet silken with his own desire.

Caroline nodded, her mind flooding with the sounds and sensations of last time. Her guttural grunting, so crude and animal; her burning thighs spread; her fingers jerking and jabbing; her red bottom waving like a monkey’s; Jonathan’s sudden, swift possession, his cock like an iron bar, thrusting inside her.

Would she be allowed such a treat this time, in front of her friends? She didn’t think so, but it was too late to debate about it now. Too late to be scared of
any
possibility. Too late to do anything at all as the strap came whistling down.

All she could do was whine and claw the table, her buttocks on their way to crimson fire …

‘I wasn’t a very good example, was I?’ Gripping herself just behind her knees, Caroline lifted her bottom a little way up off the mattress. The sheets were soft and cool, but even so, the site of Jonathan’s handiwork had far too much in
common
with the strawberries downstairs to press it against the cotton yet.

‘You were stunning, love. Magnificent,’ said her husband, rolling over beside her and looking down on her with a smile. ‘Utter perfection. Never better.’ He rested a finger against her left bottom cheek and made her gasp.

‘But, Jonny, I had three spontaneous orgasms while you were spanking me … Ah!’ She caught her breath again as the finger pressed, then moved. ‘And after that I climbed up on the table and brought myself off again, even though it meant taking another twenty strokes. I thought we were supposed to be giving our friends a show of discipline … and grace under pressure?’

‘But it
did
hurt, didn’t it?’ Jonathan enquired, his finger still moving now, but not in a place that pained her. ‘It still hurts, doesn’t it?’

Caroline nodded her head, and then thrashed it from side to side as the finger described a slow, sensual pumping action.

‘Well, that’s what matters then, isn’t it?’ he persisted gently, bringing his other hand into play, in a different place. ‘And there’s more than one way of expressing grace.’

Caroline whimpered and squirmed, and grew incoherent, but a short while later, when she could speak again, she said, ‘Yes, love, you’re right. As ever …’

‘Of course I’m right,’ said Jonathan a little smugly, subsiding onto his back. ‘And if you’d been listening carefully for the last fifteen minutes you’d know how successful our little performance really was.’ He fell quite silent for a while to allow her to hear much better.

Still holding her bottom and haunches up off the mattress, Caroline listened to the noises that were coming from their guest bedroom. They were excitingly graphic,
and
she’d never been more pleased that the walls were thin.

Allen’s mock-stern voice. Little sobs and pleas from Maggie. Then the delicious tell-tale slaps of a hand meeting flesh – accompanied by the throaty squeals and gurgles of a happy female being punished. Shortly after came more cries – both male and female – and these were nothing at all to do with suffering.