Red Skye at Night (21 page)

Harry continues his explanation, homing in on my areas of vulnerability. How does he know? How does he always know? “I’ll be squeezing your nipples until they swell and go hard for me—shouldn’t take long, I expect—then I’ll clamp them.”

“How? I mean, what will you use?” My voice is only slightly shaky, an indication, I suppose, that I’m adjusting to this new reality.

“I can improvise something very effective with the hairgrips I picked up in that pharmacy. If the minibar has an ice box—which it should do, the price this place is charging—I’m considering introducing you to the delights of ice play. You recall I did mention that yesterday?”

I nod. He did indeed promise to shove an ice cube into my pussy or something along those lines. It sounds horrendous. My cunt is spasming in utter joy.

Harry continues, “Alternatively, I haven’t taken my belt to you yet. I’d love to see your butt striped from a decent thrashing. What do you think, Hope?”

“I think I’d prefer the ice, Sir.”

“Right, my belt it is then. Or maybe we could manage both. We’ll see.”

“I see. May I ask, Sir, what I did wrong? To deserve your belt?”

Now he does glance in my direction. “Nothing, honey. This won’t be a punishment beating. This will be pure eroticism the way I plan to do it. It’ll hurt, but you’ll love it. Probably. Maybe.” He shrugs, his smile deliciously wicked. “Tell me afterwards.”

Harry’s calm is infectious. I’m amazed at how settled I feel as I contemplate his plans for me. I trust Harry, it’s that simple. He said he won’t harm me and I believe him.

“Very well, Sir.” I settle back into my seat, not entirely relaxed, but still I manage to drift off to sleep.

* * * *

The mill is totally isolated, set in beautiful woodland at the edge of the River Foss. The sound of a waterfall can be heard as soon as we get out of the car. The mill itself is hidden away in a stand of trees, the setting quite idyllic.

“Wow, this place is fabulous.” I’m wonderstruck, taking in my surroundings. Jill has outdone herself.

“Yeah, it’ll do.” Harry strolls up to the main door and unlocks it with the key he picked up from the hotel main reception, at least half an hour’s walk away though only a couple of minutes in my car. I suspect there’ll be no requirement for a gag tonight, unless Harry decides on it anyway. I hope not, though by now I’ve come to realize I have no real say in that. Daisy and I follow him inside.

The place is huge, far too big just for the three of us. As we wander around, I count three large double bedrooms, one with a massive four-poster bed. I already know Harry has a fondness for those—it’s clear which room we’ll occupy. The rest of the accommodation consists of an open plan living and dining area, an industrial size kitchen, utility room and a games room with a full-size snooker table. The bathroom alone must cover half an acre, and comes complete with sauna, Jacuzzi and a massage table. Harry seems particularly interested in the complimentary oils.

Our indoor explorations complete, we make our way back outside, Daisy bouncing happily around our legs. Harry picks up a stick and throws it. She charges off into the undergrowth, before returning a few seconds later, a puzzled look on her face and no stick. We stroll on, along a narrow, overgrown path through the deep woodland, repeating the game every few yards. We’re headed in the direction of the waterfall. The sound of the water grows louder as we get close. We round a bend in the path and there it is, a tall, narrow cascade of sparkling, cool water, tumbling into a clear pool at the foot of a sheer stone drop.

“Holy shit, this is some place.” Harry’s low-breathed curse is almost lost in the roar of the waterfall.

I just stand, again staring, lost in the magic of this glorious setting. Harry is the first to recover. “Strip, Hope.”

He’s already starting to undress, pulling his T-shirt over his head. I hesitate for barely a moment before following suit. Within half a minute we’re both naked and plunging into the pool.

“Christ, that’s fucking freezing.” I tread water furiously, rigid from the shock of the chilly water.

Harry surfaces next to me, shaking his wet hair back from his face. “Shit, yes. It’s good, though.” He glances back to the side of the pool where Daisy is pacing anxiously. “Come on in, Daisy. You’ll like it.”

“If she’s any sense, she’ll stay where she is,” I mutter, seriously contemplating rejoining her on dry land. I turn and start to make for the edge.

“Oh no you don’t. If Daisy’s staying there I get to fuck you, in here. No, better still, under the waterfall. Come on.”

“No way.” The falls are stunning to look at, but actually to go underneath? I think not.

Harry has other ideas. He grabs my hand and starts towing me across the pool. I try to pull my hand away, but one lift of those Dom eyebrows quashes any resistance. I float after him, the perfect submissive as he pulls me around the edge of the falling torrent and into the relatively dry area between the water and the rock face. It’s shallower here, and right up against the rock the water level only comes to mid-thigh on Harry. He picks me up, his hands at my waist, and positions me with my back to the rock. It’s cold, but smooth against my shoulder blades. Even though I know exactly what he’s about to do, I still gasp as he lifts me, pins me against the rock, and drives his cock into me.

I lean forward, drape my arms around his shoulders and lock my legs around his waist. That’s the extent of my active participation—the rest is Harry’s show alone. He strokes his cock in and out, slow at first, then more firmly. I grasp him hard with my inner muscles, already tight from the frigid water, and concentrate on just hanging on. He picks up speed, pounding into me, each stroke slamming me back against the stone. I don’t care, I’m oblivious to anything but the glorious sensation Harry is stirring within my pussy. He manages to slip one hand between us to reach my clit. He rubs, circling the nub of nerve endings as I sink my teeth into the tip of his shoulder. My orgasm is swift, ripping through me like a tornado, suddenly there, all powerful, all-consuming, and just as quickly passed, gone. Harry is in hot pursuit. He gives a muffled curse as his balls tighten and he pumps his semen into me.

The whole episode can’t have taken more than a couple of minutes, from Harry telling me to strip to us both climaxing behind the waterfall. I giggle as the reality of our situation sinks in. Talk about ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’.

“Something amusing you, Hope? And by the way, I think you drew blood.”

He’s rubbing his shoulder. As he moves his fingers I can see my teeth marks.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry, Sir. I never meant…”

He silences me with a finger across my lips. “Hush, love. I have much more than that planned for you later. So, a quick swim, then we get out and go find something to eat? Yes?”

I bury my face in his neck, my arms still looped around his shoulders. “Yes, Sir. That’ll be nice.”

Chapter Twelve

We make use of the hotel restaurant for our evening meal, and once again I find my beautiful blue dress suitable for the occasion. Harry scrubs up well too, choosing a dark gray business suit for this evening. I love him in his casual jeans and T-shirts, but for me there has always been something deeply sensual about a handsome man in a well-tailored suit. Harry fits the bill perfectly.

By the time he’s fixed me with that seductive but no nonsense Dom look, asked me if I’ve quite finished my coffee and signaled for the waiter to bring our bill, my pussy is so wet I fear I might leave a stain on the plush velvet of my seat. I wonder if my dress can be dry cleaned? Harry stands, holds the back of my chair as I get to my feet, and offers me his elbow as we leave the restaurant. The hotel has a courtesy shuttle car and the driver offers to transport us back to the mill. We had intended to walk, but my shoes are just not designed for the woodland terrain. We accept the lift and a couple of minutes later we alight at the mill doors. We let ourselves in, to be greeted by Daisy, giddy with delight to see us back.

“I’ll let her have a run outside for a few minutes. Would you wait for me in the snooker room, please?”

I look at him, surprised. I’d assumed that the four-poster would be my next stop, and that I’d probably find myself tied to it soon enough.

Harry smiles. “I fancy a game of snooker. Do you play, Hope?”

“Er, no. I’ve seen it on the television, though.”

“Not this version, I suspect. You can keep the dress on, but no underwear.” He clicks his tongue for Daisy, who needs no further encouraging. The pair of them disappear through the door and are immediately swallowed up in the trees surrounding the mill.

Harry didn’t tell me exactly how long I had to prepare myself, but he did mention taking Daisy out for a few minutes. I don’t hang about. Five minutes later, I’m in the snooker room, my knickers safely deposited back in my holdall with the rest of my dirty washing, and the skirt of my dress swishing seductively around my naked bum. I’m relieved that it no longer hurts from this morning’s escapade, as it’s pretty clear that Harry intends to warm my arse up again. My tummy quivers and my pussy clenches at the prospect. Harry’s right. I am a slut.

Long may it last. I’m having the time of my life.

Shortly after, I hear Harry’s footsteps on the path outside, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing. He is talking to Daisy, his low voice gentle as he settles her on her trusty blanket. Then I listen as his footsteps recede—he’s walking away, heading for somewhere else in the mill. I remain where I am, waiting. A couple of minutes pass, and I hear him again, this time heading in my direction. The snooker room door opens and he steps inside. It clicks quietly as he closes it behind him. He’s removed his suit jacket, and has a glass of iced water in each hand, the cubes clinking merrily against the tumblers.

Ice! He promised me ice.

I stand beside the table, my right hand fisted on the top of it as I watch him approach me.

“You are one seriously lovely woman, Hope Shepherd. Have I mentioned that already?”

“You have, Sir. Thank you. You’re pretty hot yourself.”

He smiles, inclines his head in solemn salute. “Then it’s a good thing we have ice. So, our game. He picks up the blue ball from the center of the table and drops it into the pocket closest to him. He then picks up the white from close to the cushion at the far end and places that on the spot vacated by the blue. Next he saunters over to the cue rack and selects a cue. He comes to stand at the end of the table, chalking the end of his cue just as I’ve watched the professional players do on the television.

“Right, a little target practice then. From here you’re going to try to pot the pink, then the black. Okay?”

“I won’t be able to reach. You’re taller than I am.”

“Do your best. Shall I demonstrate first?”

“Yes, Sir. Please do.” I stand back to watch as Harry leans over the green baize, lines up his cue and fires the white down the table. It connects with the pink, the sound crisp and satisfying. The pink ricochets away and drops neatly into the pocket at the bottom corner. Harry retrieves and re-spots the white ball, then repeats the exercise with the black ball.

“Show-off.”

“You asked for a demonstration, and you got one.” I muttered the words, but he heard me. “Now unless you want me to demonstrate a lesson in submissive good manners, I suggest you try to do the same thing. Come and stand here.”

I stand beside him at the end of the table. He hands me his cue, freshly chalked again. “I’ll re-spot the balls for you after your shots. You lean over and see if you can reach.”

I nod, and stretch myself as far as I can along the felt top. I’m still a good foot or more short of being able to connect with the white ball. Harry obligingly moves it back a few inches, to just about on the edge of my range. It still seems like an unequal contest to me, but I know better than to argue.

“The pink ball first, right?”

“Right, but first would you lift your skirt up around your waist?”

He’s ultra-polite, as ever, but I knew this was coming, or something of the like. Why else are my panties stuffed in my case? I lay my cue on the table and reach back to hitch up the fabric of my skirt.

“A little higher, please. Perhaps you could bunch it up under your stomach. I want to be able to see all of that pretty ass of yours.”

“Is this all right, Sir?” I wriggle a little to shove the material under me, and peer back over my shoulder for approval. Harry is standing behind me, surveying my bum displayed for his amusement. And mine, I guess.

“Perfect. Now take the shot, please.”

I pick up the cue again and line up my shot. “Don’t tell me, if I miss you’ll swat my butt cheeks with the cue.”

“Of course not, I might injure you. If you miss, I’ll insert an ice cube into your pussy. The next time you miss, you take one in your arse. And so it goes on, pussy, arse, pussy, arse, until I run out of ice, or you manage to pot a ball. I wonder which will be sooner?”

His casual tone does nothing to lessen the impact of his words, the sheer eroticism of his intent. My pussy is spasming wildly, already indecently damp just from his interested perusal from his vantage point behind me. There’s a faint clink as he sips water from his glass, reminding me that he has the ice readily to hand.

I line up the cue again, but this time the tip is anything but steady. I draw several deep breaths. Even though I know the outcome is pretty much inevitable, I can but try.

I take the shot and to be fair, it’s not a bad effort. The pink ball bounces off the cushion about an inch from the pocket. It might as well have been a mile off. I let my forehead drop onto the green felt.

“Ah, you missed. I guess we’ll be needing an ice cube then.” He steps forward, the front of his trousers brushing my bum and the backs of my legs. He places the glass beside my shoulder on the table. I turn my head to watch him fish out a glistening cube of ice. He pushes it into the furrow between my buttocks.