The Three Rs (29 page)

He thrusts three fingers inside my pussy, hard and fast. And deep. Now I moan in earnest, and the wriggle I can’t manage to suppress earns me another rebuke.

“I told you to keep still. For that you’ve earned an extra slap.”

I squeeze my pussy around his fingers, determined not to make matters any worse, as he finger-fucks me relentlessly. “This is a punishment, you get your rewards later. Don’t you dare come until I tell you you can.”

“Please, it’s hard. I can’t help how I feel…”

“Yes you can. Concentrate. Control yourself. And wait.” He thrusts his fingers deep inside me again, angling to hit my G-spot, the bastard.

I grind my teeth together, desperate to suppress my response. I’m managing, after a fashion, until he suddenly switches tack and withdraws his fingers, only to take my clit between his finger and thumb and squeeze it hard. My orgasm is instantaneous, rocking my body and sending deep shudders through every inch of me, rippling from my core and out through my fingers and toes. It’s unstoppable, as he surely knew it would be.

As the tremors die away and my body returns to something resembling normal—well, the sort of normality that entails being draped over a Dom’s lap, accepting a severe punishment spanking, whilst climaxing wildly—Cain’s low, sardonic voice interrupts my attempts at composure. “You need to practice your self-control, Abbie. That little performance has earned you ten more slaps. By my reckoning, that’s now fifteen still to go. Shall we continue?”

I’m lying limp across his lap now, and past caring what happens. I just want this to be done with. I don’t answer, just wait for the next blow to land. It doesn’t.

“Abbie, I won’t continue until you tell me to. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” My response is whispered, but he hears me.

The next five spanks are delivered swiftly. I may be mistaken, but it feels as though he might be letting up slightly. Or maybe I’m just getting accustomed to this, my tolerance level rising, the endorphins making a belated appearance to help me through the ordeal. The next five are manageable enough too. By the time we’ve reached thirty, tears are streaming down my face, I’m gulping for air, but I’m holding it together.

He pauses. “Abbie? Are you still okay? You’ve gone quiet.”

It does occur to me to offer some sassy remark, but I decide on discretion. “I’m fine. Please, just finish it. I want this to be over.”

“Happy to oblige. Open your legs again please.”

With a groan I do as he’s asked, only now becoming conscious that my thighs had been clenched tight together. I’m ready to plead. “Please, Cain, don’t touch me again. I can’t manage to stop whatever happens, and I’m really hurting now.”

“I think you know by now that I’ll touch you when and how I like. But I’ll take that as an amber light.”

He lands a swat on my pussy, a direct hit on the swollen, sensitive lips. I gasp, it’s painful, but incredibly erotic too.

“Again?”

He waits, and I drag in a deep breath as the sweet sensation pulses through me.

“Yes. Please.”

He spanks my dripping tush again, and at my whispered response, he does it once more. I’m groaning softly, my body a tangled confusion of pain and pleasure. I’m no longer sure where one ends and the other begins.

“You want the last two here as well?”

Ah, no longer punishment perhaps. “Yes. Please. Harder.”

“My sweet and sexy little slut. I intend to fuck you until you can’t stand, you do realize that, I hope.”

“Is that a promise? Sir?”

“Indeed so, little sub.”

And I scream as he swats my cunt twice more, hard and sharp. The powerful ripples of pleasure/pain surge through my body again, and I scream my approval. Moments later he’s scooped me from across his lap and I’m on my back, spread out on the bed, my legs open wide as he kneels between my thighs. I watch through half-closed eyes as he drags a condom from his back pocket before unzipping his jeans. He covers himself quickly then reaches for my right knee. He lifts it, opening me wide, my skirt still hitched around my waist. He takes my other knee, opening me fully before he thrusts his cock deep into my pussy.

He never said anything about suppressing my orgasm this time, and it’s just as well because my climax is there immediately. My pussy clenches around him, beyond my conscious control. My ankles are in the small of his back and I hook them together as I reach for him, latching my hands onto his shoulders. I cling on and he drives his cock into me, each plunge deep and hard—the head of his erection connecting with my cervix. I cry out, caught up in the sheer erotic beauty of this moment, completely overpowered, overwhelmed. Falling headlong in love.

As my climax recedes, I go limp underneath him. Cain clearly notices and slows his rhythm.

“Am I hurting you, love?”

“No. It feels wonderful. It’s just so, so…”

“Intense?”

“Yes. And overwhelming. It feels so tight…”

“Christ, yes. So fucking tight I think my balls might explode.”

“That would be a pity.”

His low chuckle rumbles in my ear. I can hardly believe he’s just spanked me to the very limits of what I can endure, he’s now fucking me so deep and hard I think I might just faint, and I can still manage to poke fun at him. And he’ll actually let me.

“Less sass, more paying attention to what my cock’s doing to your tight little pussy. Squeeze me, Abbie, let me feel how tight you are…”

I do, my reward a low groan as he resumes his rhythm, each stroke deep and long. As ever, he finds the perfect angle to create the friction I need right on my G-spot, and my second orgasm is soon bubbling to the surface.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Let me know how much you want this.”

My scream of ecstasy is muffled against his shoulder as I arch up into his body, and he rakes his fingers through my hair to tilt my head back. My face positioned for his kiss, he lays his mouth over mine and plunges his tongue deep, mimicking the action of his cock. I open, welcoming him, loving him.

Even as my climax recedes, he’s sliding his hand between our bodies to find my clit, and this time when he squeezes it, my response is welcomed, encouraged with low murmurs. It wouldn’t make any difference any way, I’m past any attempt at control. My body is his to use, responding mindlessly to his touch. I come a third time, my pussy spasming around his cock as he too rushes toward his release. He stiffens, then surges forward, his cock filling me entirely before he holds still, buried deep within me. He twitches, jerks hard as he starts to climax. There’s a rush of familiar warmth as his semen fills the condom. I squeeze again, more in accepting affection than involuntary response, a way of silently communicating how much I treasure this connection between us.

His kiss dropped softly on my ear is his reply. His murmured, “I missed you. Let’s go home” completes the story.

* * * *

“Would you mind if I went away next week? On a sort of holiday?”

Cain rolls from his position behind me, my bum tucked up tight against his stomach, his softening cock nestled between my legs. It’s a position I like, seems such a shame to move. But still, I have to ask.

It’s now been two days since Cain came to my flat, spanked me and reclaimed me, brought me back to this house which has rapidly come to feel like ours rather than his. Two days in which we’ve spent a glorious weekend together. There’s been sex. A lot of sex. Glorious, mind-blowing fucking, but countless tender moments too. Moments when Cain massaged my feet, or helped me to wash and comb my hair, even though I insisted I’d been doing it for myself since I was seven. Moments when we lay, naked and exhausted on the rug in the living room, watched by Oscar who, if he finds the antics of his new owners less than decorous has not protested unduly.

Moments when Cain lay still while I straddled him, only lowering myself slowly onto his throbbing erection when he threatened me with a spanking to top the one he provided on Friday evening. There have been many such intimate moments, and easily as many moments when we fucked frantically and mindlessly, unable to get enough of each other. Moments when we’ve vented our emotions and our delight. I can’t get enough of him and it does seem as though the feeling is mutual. And deeply satisfying.

On Sunday afternoon we even took time out to go exploring the rocky Northumberland shoreline again, this time driving a few miles south to the village of Beal, and from there walking across the causeway at low tide to reach the island of Lindisfarne. Cain sat on a low section of tumble-down wall, watching as I sketched the beautiful ruins of the priory. One of the things I most love about drawing is the artistic license I can claim, to embellish as I see fit. So inspired by the evocative narrative of the local guide whose job it is to greet visitors and deliver a potted version of the history of the island, I add my own touches. I sketch in a few haunting images of peaceful monks from days gone by, fleeing from marauding Vikings, with horned helmets and snarling, bearded faces, all adding to the rich historic tapestry I’m creating. Well that’s my story. Or maybe I just didn’t want to pass up an excuse to draw Vikings.

I glanced across at Cain, observing that he’d have passed well enough for a Viking in an earlier age. His arrival at my flat on Friday, his implacable insistence on totally dominating me, all add to that image. And totally make my toes curl and my pussy twist into a tight little knot of desire. I grew wet just remembering how he’d completely overwhelmed me and, after my initial nervousness, I’d been delighted to let him. In true Viking tradition, I do feel distinctly pillaged. Maybe he’s right, maybe I
am
a natural submissive. It certainly seems like it.

We drove back to Berwick, neither of us saying much. For me, my head was full of what the coming week might bring. Will Phyllis respect my privacy, keep my secret? I know she feels compromised at being less than honest with Cain, she believes I should tell him the whole truth. Maybe one day. Soon. When it’s fixed. It’ll be easier in retrospect, I’ll feel less exposed.

I have no idea what Cain’s thoughts were on that journey, though his insistence on spending most of the evening in our customary naked state, eating our supper in bed, is a clue regarding his state of mind. Our love-making—or fucking as Cain usually terms it—has been sweetly vanilla since then, at least by our standards. By unspoken agreement, my body is too sore for anything kinkier. I’m pleasantly tender, harboring absolutely no regrets or misgivings about what happened. The redness has now faded from my bottom, though it glowed prettily for at least thirty-six hours, so maybe soon… We’re huddled together in a contented after-glow. Shame I need to wreck it. But I have to say something.

If Cain insists I should stay here, I’m not entirely sure what I’ll do. Maybe then I’ll come clean. For sure, I can’t be derailed now. For the first time ever, as far as I can recall, I have both motivation and opportunity, in the same place at the same time. That’s enough, that’s all I need. The rest is just a matter of getting on and doing it. So he has to agree, he has to let me go. It’s that simple.

He props himself up on one elbow, and I can feel his eyes on me though I resist the urge to turn to him.

“A holiday? Where are we going then? Somewhere warm?”

We!
That does get my attention. I roll onto my back, looking up at his curious expression. He doesn’t seem unduly ruffled by the prospect of this sudden change in plans. He may soon.

“I was thinking I’d go on my own.”
Ah, right, not so relaxed now.

“Is something wrong, Abbie?”

I shake my head emphatically “No, absolutely not. It’s perfect. We’re perfect. I-I’ve never been more happy than I am at this moment.”

He narrows his eyes. “Okay. That’s good. So…?”

“I need to visit my friend. Sally? I think I mentioned her. We used to work together, at that school in Bradford. It, it’s just something we arranged a while ago. It’s half term next week you see. We like to spend time a bit of together, hit the shops, that sort of thing. I won’t arrange any other trips if you don’t want me to…”
Please, God, it’s a white lie, don’t let him find out.

Miraculously, he smiles. “Abbie, if you want to nip off and visit a friend for a few days, that’s fine. You don’t need my permission. Arrange as many trips as you like. I’ll come on them sometimes, although at least one of us could do with being here. I have work stacked up as it is so couldn’t easily manage time off at short notice, but I don’t mind at all if this is what you want to do. And the joy of being the boss, one of the few perks in my view, is you can take time off work when it suits you. More or less. So, where are you and Sally going then?”

“Oh, nowhere really. We just want to spend some girlie time together, maybe some shopping, a few art galleries…”

“Sounds like more your sort of thing than mine. Enjoy. When are you planning to go?”

He’s agreed! He’s actually bloody agreed. No arguing, no pleading. Shit!

“Friday, if that’s all right. I can catch the train sometime in the afternoon. Go via Leeds.”

“If you wait until the evening I don’t mind driving you.”

“No!” My response comes out more sharply than I intended, but I need to get him off that notion fast. No way can I let him get wind of the real purpose of this visit. I don’t want him meeting Sally, and if he drives me all the way back to Bradford on Friday evening there’ll be no good reason for not asking him to stay over at least for the night, maybe the whole weekend. And every day counts. Every hour almost. I need all the time I can get for this project.