The Three Rs (18 page)

“Ten. Eleven. Ahh. Twelve.” I can’t bite back my scream, but this time it doesn’t stop his next slap.

“Amber.” I’m not sure what I’m asking, what I want exactly. I don’t want him to stop, not yet, but it’s just too, too…

His palm lands on my bottom again, but now it’s gentle. He slowly caresses my quivering, skin. I sigh, loving the tenderness in his touch. He draws his fingers lightly across the most sore places, and I rub my cheek against his leg in grateful response.

“My hand print is here, in vivid red on your bum. It looks gorgeous.” I wince as he traces the outline of his hand, etched on my skin. “A minute’s break, then six more, but not as hard. Okay with you?”

I shift on his lap. “Only six?”

“Six. If you get that far. Remember your safe word.”

I won’t be needing that.
This is nothing. Not really. I just need to relax, accept, enjoy.

I do all these things, but I still safe word after the fourth slap. Cain massages my sore bottom again, once more slipping his fingers between my thighs to test my pussy’s reaction to all this. I’m absolutely soaking. There are wet sounds as he slides two fingers deep inside me, finger-fucking me hard and fast as I open my legs wide again. His other hand reaches for my clit. A few seconds, and my orgasm is once more rippling through me as I spin delightfully out of control. My pussy clenches around his fingers, greedily seeking more friction, grabbing at him. He chuckles and deliberately slows his thrusts. It’s too late, my body is beyond recall and I thrust my hips wildly to maintain the pressure, tightening around his fingers and wringing the last dregs of release from my body myself.

At last, I lie still. I’m satisfied, utterly content.

But Cain is not. “Stand up.” His voice has taken on that hard edge again, sublime but so powerful, demanding obedience.

I stand.

“Lie down, on your back.”

I glance at him balefully. My bottom is smarting, I’d really prefer to lie face down. One look is enough to convince me not to argue. I dutifully scramble onto the bed and carefully ease myself onto my back. It’s not too uncomfortable, on reflection. As long as I don’t move.

Cain stands, watches me trying to find a way to lie still without irritating my sore bum any further. His lip quirks, but he says nothing. He doesn’t have to. I make a mental note to safe word earlier next time.

He picks up one of his lengths of rope and makes a smallish loop at one end. He holds that out to me, and I slip my left hand through it. Without speaking to me now, he quickly ties both my wrists to the bed posts. I know he’ll have done a thorough job, and he’s obviously not new to this, but still I try a couple of experimental tugs to see if there’s any give. There isn’t.

Cain takes a little more time carefully checking his knots, asking me if my wrists hurt at all. I shake my head. I’m tied up well and truly, but the ropes are soft and supple against my skin, and not so tight that they affect my circulation. Satisfied it seems, he picks up the second length of rope and quickly repeats the process but this time tying my ankles to the bottom bedposts. I’m not tall enough to actually reach, so this time there’s more rope involved to cover the extra distance. And by the time he’s finished, his knots checked and my wellbeing assured, I’m quite immobile, naked on his bed, my legs spread wide, and completely at his mercy.

Wonderful!

“You’ve had two orgasms already. I think you might be able to show a little restraint now, no pun intended.” He seats himself on the bed beside me, idly circling my left nipple with his fingers.

It tickles, sort of, and I wriggle slightly. He stops his tormenting, smiles at me then deliberately starts again.

“Look at me, Abbie. If I didn’t want you to watch, you’d be blindfolded.”

My eyelids snap open, a shiver of unease rippling through me. I really am helpless and quite literally in his hands. He reaches for the jar of jam, still sitting on the bedside table. He dips his finger in then offers it to me to lick. I do, curling my tongue around his middle finger, tasting the jam but also my own juices from being finger-fucked just a few minutes ago.

“Nice?” He asks the question casually. I manage an equally noncommittal tilt of my head. His lip quirks.

“Not sure? Try this then?” He dips his finger again, and this time smears the jam across my lips.

I snake my tongue out to lick it away. His eyebrow is raised, silently asking my opinion now. I lick my lips again, managing to exhibit a little more enthusiasm.

His reply is just a slow, sexy smile. He dips two fingers into the jar, scooping out a more generous helping of the sticky red jam. Even though I know it’s going onto my nipple, I still jerk as he trails his fingertips around my areola then smears the stickiness all over the swelling peak of my left breast.

“Cold?” His question is delivered so dispassionately he might have been discussing tomorrow’s weather.

I shake my head. “Not cold. I told you, I’m ticklish.”

“Ah yes, so you did.” And he proceeds to do exactly the same thing to my right nipple before stopping to admire his creation.

I strain my neck to glance down at my vivid red nipples, now smeared with stickiness and standing to attention under the jam. I expect Cain to dip his head and start to lick it off, but he’s not ready for that yet. Instead he slides his fingers through the goo on my left nipple, pinching my swollen bud between his thumb and finger ends. I jerk again as he squeezes hard enough to hurt. His response is to take my right nipple in his other hand and apply the same pressure there too. I moan softly, arching under his touch despite the discomfort. He increases the pressure, only slightly, but enough to make me yelp as real pain bites. He releases me and lowers his mouth to my breasts to start the long and painstaking process of licking my nipples clean. He laps the jam away, then he takes one hard pink pebble into his mouth and sucks on it. The pleasure is intense, and I cry out.

“Please, I can’t…”

He stops sucking, but doesn’t release my nipple from his mouth. His ‘I told you so’ glance up at me is enough to silence me for a while as he starts once more. Moments later I’m writhing under him, as far as my restraints will allow me to, as he shifts his attention to the other side and starts all over again. I’m so incredibly aroused my pussy is clutching on the void within. I want to close my legs, squeeze my clit, anything to gain some relief. But I’m held securely in place, helpless, my legs spread wide.

At last he lifts his head, and reaches for the jam jar again. I groan, expecting the process to start all over again. As indeed it does. He carefully spreads jam across my breasts, not just the nipples, and I find myself hoping the jar was closer to full than empty. Now that I’m becoming accustomed to the sensation, and to the restraints, it really is very, very nice. Not enough yet to bring me to orgasm, but definitely getting there.

This time Cain doesn’t stop with my breasts. Satisfied I’m suitably coated, he gets up and to my astonishment heads for the bedroom door. Surely he isn’t going to leave me here… Wordlessly he leaves the room, but I trust him and I wait. In moments he’s back, a warm, wet flannel and a towel in his hands. He wipes his fingers then grabs a pillow from behind my head and shoves it under my bum to raise my bottom from the bed. Idly, I note that the soreness from my spanking is almost gone. He then lifts my hips again, this time to slip the towel underneath.

“This bit can get messy.” He winks at me as he picks up the jar again.

I hold my breath as he takes two heaped fingerfuls of jam, then using the fingers of his spare hand to open my inner lips, he smooths it thickly over my clit and labia. He’s now shifted his position so he’s lying across the bed, between my wide open thighs, propped on one elbow as he proceeds to dip his fingers again and paint more of my pussy with the sticky jam. He’s very thorough, smearing the cool, fruity concoction everywhere. I just know, no matter how diligent his attempts to lick it off, I’ll be back in the shower before this evening’s over.

I lay there, perfectly still, acutely conscious of every sweep of his fingers across my clit, my labia, my pussy. He even dips his fingers into between my lips to deposit a blob there, before continuing around to coat my tight little arsehole with the stuff. Now I do gasp. This is new. This is something previously unexplored. I’m not sure what I make of this.

Cain ignores my shocked hiss as I wriggle, trying to shift my vulnerable and previously untroubled anus from his attention. If anything, his efforts there are intensified.

“Please, I don’t think…” I’m not sure what it is I want to say, but some form of protest seems to be called for.

He glances up at me, his fingertip now firmly inserted into my arse. “Safe word, Abbie. Or you keep still and let me do this.” His gaze holds mine, but his fingers remain still as he lets me process what’s happening to me.

I turn it all over in my head. I’m acutely aware of the intrusion, his finger is in my arse, for God’s sake. But, I don’t use my safe word. I don’t even use my amber light. Instead, I deliberately close my eyes, and force my body to relax, to go limp. I give myself over to him.

“Good girl.” His words are softly murmured, then he returns to his task.

Once I’ve accepted the indignity, I have to confess that it feels rather nice as he eases his finger deeper into my bum. He’s not rough, not forcing me at all, just slowly gaining entry, my muscles relaxing and opening to allow it. As his second knuckle disappears inside me, I can’t contain another small gasp. He isn’t hurting me, but it does feel strange. And slightly scary. And more than slightly wicked. Cain quickly settles that little interruption though by scraping his thumb lightly over my clit. My hips lift, my whole body arches—his to do with as he likes. The final inch of his finger sinks into me, and I lie still, utterly relaxed, utterly trusting as he continues to stroke my clit.

My orgasm a few seconds later is beautiful, an intense sensual experience. It’s almost spiritual, my connection to Cain so absolute in these ecstatic moments. I shiver, my body shuddering and convulsing in its release. I’m quite helpless to do anything but accept what he’s doing to me. For me. It’s as though all my nerve endings are directly connected to my clit, and everything he does to me is intensified by the intimacy of his final penetration. I thrash my head from side to side, the only part of me that can move, as wave after wave of pleasure washes across me, through me. All I know is, he’s touching me, I’m allowing him to do whatever he chooses to me, and it’s wonderful beyond compare.

Cain slides his finger from my arse, but makes no move to untie me. Instead, he lowers his face to my pussy and starts to lick. Slowly, delicately, as though he’s savoring every sweet mouthful he laps at every inch of my exposed cunt. He draws the tip of his tongue along my slit to tease out the jam coating my entrance, and I make a little throaty sound in appreciation. It feels so good, so decadent, so sweetly kinky. He takes his time, careful not to leave any part of me untasted. I’m flexing my fingers, twisting my hands in my restraints, tugging at the ropes binding me. Cain sees, knows, but still doesn’t release me. I could ask him to, but this is his show, and I’m content to play it his way.

The now familiar churn of orgasm is welling again, my pussy clenching and squeezing. The need to be filled is almost overwhelming. I want him inside me, now.

“Fuck me. Please, fuck me…” I’m moaning now, the plea desperate as my body starts to spasm again.

“Soon, baby. One more orgasm first. Come for me now.” His tone is low, but insistent. He slides two fingers deep into my cunt, twisting and separating them inside to scrape against the walls of my channel.

He finds and strokes my G-spot, rubbing harder as I stretch and strain against the ropes.

“I need…” My voice trails away—I don’t know how to articulate what I need.

Cain seems to sense it anyway. “I know, sweetheart. You’ll have what you need. First, I want you to come. Now. Come for me, hard, fast.”

His fingers are urging me on, and his words only serve to intensify the sensations. In moments I’m imploding again, my senses scattering as my release rips through me. This time my climax is powerful, intense, almost brutal in its severity. The tidal wave of pleasure sweeps any rational thought aside as I’m carried along, spinning helplessly—weightless in the grip of this intensity of feeling. At last it passes, and I drift slowly back to reality. I may have forgotten to breathe, I’m gasping now, the air shuddering into my lungs as I drag oxygen in. Cain withdraws his fingers again and rolls off the bed. He quickly unties my ankles, but leaves my wrists bound. The sharp snap of the condom foil precedes his entry by mere seconds. He plunges his cock fully inside me, thrusting hard as he quickly sets up a rhythm.

“Oh, God. Cain. I—that’s…” I can’t find anything sensible to say, so I give up the effort. I open my eyes to find Cain’s gray gaze fixed on me.

“You are so beautiful, babe. So bloody gorgeous…” His voice is ragged, lowered now to little more than a growl.

Still supporting his weight on his arms, he leans down to place his lips over my mouth. His breath mingles with mine and I can taste the sweet, sensuous mix of strawberries and my own musk on his lips. I open my mouth and suck his tongue in, loving the double penetration. He lowers himself down onto his elbows, cradling my face in his hands as he continues to fuck me hard. His kiss deepens, and I lift my legs to anchor them around his waist. The angle increases his penetration, and the slight shift in direction pushes his cock hard against my G-spot with every stroke. In moments I’m coming again, my pussy tightening around him, milking every last tingle of pleasure from his cock.