Rich Pickings (16 page)

I pick up my cup and sit back, the careless family chatter and affectionate banter swirling around me. I think I’ll like living here.

* * * *

“Time for bed, Summer.” Dan bends to murmur the words in my ear as we share the washing up.

It only really amounts to rinsing plates and stacking them in the dishwasher, but it’s a pleasant, homely, companionable task. I enjoy it. Nathan has a rule that Grace is off duty after we eat our evening meal. She cooks, but doesn’t clear away or do any other housework. She still officiates over Rosie’s bath occasionally, though Eva usually gets that honor now. Grace normally gets to spend her evenings with her feet up watching soaps and TV dramas while Nathan, Eva or Dan rattle the pots around.

The lines between employee and family member are blurred here to the point of being almost non-existent. Dan tells me he can’t recall a time Grace ever took a holiday, apart from when she’s gone with Rosie and Nathan in the past, and those trips now include Eva and Isabella. It’s interesting to note that Grace still calls her employer ‘Mr Darke’, but Rosie calls the housekeeper ‘Nana’. No one seems to mind, it all works. And now it includes me. And perhaps, just possibly, I can manage to extend all this to encompass Lucy and Maisie too. The invitation to tea is a good start.

First things first, though. Bed, with Dan. Now.

“Yes, I am tired.”

“Too bad. You won’t be getting a lot of sleep. I have to go back to Cumbria tomorrow so I intend to make the best of you while I’m still here.”

I turn to face him. “Tomorrow? Oh. When will you be back?”

“I normally come down here very six or eight weeks or so…” He smiles, clearly impressed by my crestfallen expression. “Will you miss me, little sub?”

“Well, I expect I’ll be busy…” I certainly hope so.
Eight weeks. Shit!

“Not the right answer. You’re supposed to beg me to stay, or to come back soon. You should be offering me the use of your body in any way I like. You’re supposed to drop to your knees, naked, plead with me to fuck you.” Dan injects a note of what I think is probably mock sternness into his tone. It’s hard to be sure.

“Would that help? And if I did all that, how would I manage to fit in the accountancy course?”

He slaps my bum, in play perhaps but hard enough to hurt. “Enough with the pragmatics. I want you naked and kneeling. On my bed. You have two minutes.”

“But what about…”

“One minute, fifty-five seconds. I
do
still have that tawse, Summer.”

“Of course, Sir.” I head for the door, my hand drifting to rub my sore bottom. I suspect it will get worse before it gets better.

Chapter Ten

It’s a scramble, but I manage to get my clothes off and position myself in the center of Dan’s large bed just as his tread sounds on the landing beyond the door. My eyes are downcast, but I swivel my gaze just enough to see the door handle turn. Dan enters. I continue to keep my gaze lowered so he is only visible to me from the waist down. His jeans are stretched tight, the beginning of an erection already apparent. It delights me that just the thought, or perhaps sight of me is sufficient to cause this reaction.

I’m kneeling, naked as instructed, my hands resting palms up on my thighs. I’m intrigued to note that just assuming this position puts my head in the place it needs to be, ready, willing, submissive. And with a delightful fluttering of butterflies low in my stomach. I’m placing myself in Dan’s hands, certain I’ll be safe there. I’m nervous, but not afraid. Anxious, anticipating, eager. Excited too. Every encounter with my Dom is better than the one before it seems to me, and growing familiarity has brought with it a contentment and confidence I never previously dreamed of.

I draw in a deep breath as Dan circles the bed, viewing me from all angles. I let it out slowly, draw in another.

“You are beautiful. Quite lovely. Your submissive pose is perfect. Well done.”

“Thank you, Sir.” I maintain my stillness as he approaches behind me.

His breath is a light caress on my shoulder as he draws close. I start, but only slightly, as he trails his fingers across my tattoos.

“A richness of swallows. I love your bottom, Summer. So pale and pink just now. But later…”

Later.
The butterflies’ fluttering increases to a frantic, agitated flapping as my lively imagination takes control of my body. I’m already visualizing his handprints on my bum, anticipating the sharp sting as he spanks me.

“Please, Sir, I…”

“In a hurry, Miss Jones? Is there somewhere you need to be? Am I keeping you up, perhaps?”

“No, Sir. I’m sorry.” We’ll be going at his pace. We always do. I fix my eyes on my thighs determined not to earn myself another reprimand, however gentle.

Dan’s palm is soft against my bottom. He caresses my beautiful swallows slowly.

“A richness? Sounds about right. I wonder if we could improve on it, though. How about a gorgeousness of swallows? Or a perfection?” His voice is low and incredibly sexy.

I might dissolve into a puddle right here and now. Certainly my pussy is moistening, the dampness already noticeable under my bum. He has only to slip his hand a little farther round, just slide his fingers under me, between my sensitive folds, and he’ll know it too. Except he probably already does. He always knows.

I shiver, every nerve ending attuned to his touch, his seductive voice. I don’t reply, unsure whether I should. It seems not to matter

“What would you like me to do to you, Summer? Do you want pain tonight? Or pleasure?”

Now he does require some input from me. “Can’t I have both, Sir?”

“That’s greedy. Choose.”

I don’t hesitate. “Then I choose pain, Sir.”

He caresses my bottom again, moving his attention to the other cheek now and abandoning my swallows. “You surprise me. Why choose pain?”

I give him an honest answer, and one that surprises me even as I say the words, “Because you’re going away, Sir, back to Cumbria. This may have to last me a while. I want tonight to be—memorable.”

“It will be. And I won’t be gone long.”

“Six weeks seems like a long time to me. Maybe even eight weeks.” I don’t want to sound whiny, or clingy. But I
will
miss him. Terribly.

“I’ll be back in ten days, maybe less if I can find a locum.”

I turn my head to meet his eyes, puzzled. “But downstairs, you said you wouldn’t be back for six weeks. Maybe even as long as eight.”

“Did I give you permission to look up, Miss Jones?” The timbre of his voice alters, only very slightly, but the edge is there, the clipped coolness of a Dom who intends to be obeyed.

It works, and I fix my gaze firmly back on my thighs. “I’m sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again.”

“Concentrate. I don’t want to have to discipline you this evening, but I will if it’s needed.” Still that hard, implacable tone.

My bottom clenches under his hand as he continues. “What I actually said was that I wouldn’t usually be back for six weeks, maybe eight. But that was then, before I had an incentive to come to Yorkshire more frequently.”

Me? Does he mean me?

He leans in to murmur in my ear, “You are one powerful temptation, Miss Jones. I think my brother’s going to be sick of the sight of me cluttering up his house. Or maybe I’ll just need to spend all my time at the flat over the garage.”

Yes!
I know I’m smiling though he won’t see unless he chooses to look closely as I keep my eyes obediently lowered. I manage to keep my voice even as I reply, “You’ll be very welcome, Sir. Should I stock up on condoms?”

There’s a pause. I wonder if I’ve overstepped the mark, been too pushy. Then he leans in again, his breath brushing the back of my neck. “You do that, Miss Jones.”

“So, are you still looking for pain, little sub?”

“I’m not so sure now, Sir. Could you decide please?”

“A little of both, perhaps. Hold out your hand.”

I do as I’m told, without hesitation. He drops a small handful of metal objects into my outstretched palm.

“You know what these are?”

I nod.
Nipple clamps. Ouch.

“Okay?”

Another small nod from me. I know this will be alright, Dan has never let me down. I want to try everything he has to show me.

“Good girl. I’m going to tie your hands behind you now.”

He holds out his hand and I relinquish the nipple clamps to him. He tosses them onto the bed. As the objects scatter across the duvet I notice there seem to be three items. I look up at Dan, puzzled.

“A clit clamp too. A special treat.” He winks at me.

I relax. Slightly. And shiver. A lot.

“Place your hands behind you. I’d like you to grasp each elbow with the opposite hand but I’ll put you into position this first time. In the future you need to remember it. This is what I want you to do when I ask you to present your breasts to me.”

“Thank you, Sir.” I reach back, laying my hands, palms down on the duvet behind me.

I can hear Dan moving around, though I’m careful not to turn to watch. There’s the sound of a drawer opening, then closing, and he’s back, standing behind me. He takes my hands and gently bends my arms at the elbows, positioning me to his liking. My palms are cupping my elbows, and he quickly ties my forearms together to hold me in that position. He’s using something quite soft, scarves perhaps.

“Is that comfortable? Not too tight?”

“It’s fine, Sir, thank you.”

He plunges his fingers into my hair, lifting and turning my head. Leaning around, his eyes are close to mine, his gaze hot and appreciative. He places his lips over mine, his kiss deep and sensual as mine part under his. I suck his tongue willingly into my mouth, loving the questing sensation as he tastes, tests, explores. His tongue strokes mine, trailing behind my teeth and along the most sensitive part of my lips. I tilt my head back in welcome, my eyelids dropping as I sink into the intimacy of the moment.

I have no power to break the kiss, even if I wanted to. Eventually Dan raises his head to murmur in my ear, “So sexy, so submissive. I adore you, Summer.”

Adore? Is that the same as love? It’ll certainly do for now.

“Ready to continue?”

“Yes, Sir.” My voice is thin, breathy, the butterflies now in full flight low down in my belly.

Dan smiles and straightens, then walks around to the other side of the bed. Now he’s facing me, his expression deep, intent. He sits on the edge of the bed, reaches for the nipple clamps. They look a little like hair grips, but with a sliding bead holding the two arms together. Dan demonstrates them to me.

I’m going to slip the clamp over your nipples, then slide the bead up to close it. When it’s as tight as you can bear, you tell me and we stop there. They’re meant to hurt, but not too much. At least, not this first time.” He glances at my already swollen nipples. “I see you’re getting in the spirit of this, Miss Jones. I need to perk you up a little more still though. May I?”

“Of course, Sir. Please.”
So polite.

He smiles his thanks, then takes my left nipple between his fingers. He squeezes and tugs slightly. The position of my arms has pulled my shoulders back and thrust my breasts out to him. His eyes are on my swelling, now throbbing bud, hardening in his hands as he rolls and squeezes it. His grip is sharp, the intention to hurt. I hiss as the pain bites, and he glances sharply up to meet my gaze.

“We’ve hardly started, Miss Jones. If it’s easier for you not to watch I won’t insist. Close your eyes, and concentrate on breathing evenly. Don’t move, and don’t struggle.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and close my eyes. Dan returns to his task, increasing the pressure on my nipple until I’m grinding my teeth with the effort of not crying out. My instinct is to shrink away from him, but I know he won’t take kindly to that. I’ve learnt enough by now to know that only my safe word will stop this, and I don’t want to use that. Yet.

“Tell me when it’s amber. When you’re almost at the point of safe wording, I want to know.”

“Now, Sir, it’s amber now,” I blurt out the words, conscious that my eyes are watering and my mouth trembling. This is more difficult than I imagined. The pressure is not relieved, but neither does it increase any more. My swollen, tortured nipple is still compressed between Dan’s fingers but he’s no longer twisting and pulling.

“Breathe through it. It won’t hurt any more than this, and this is only amber, not red. You can do it. Open your eyes, love, and tell me you can do it.”

His tone is soft by still commanding. I have to obey. I prise my eyelids open, my tears now unchecked as they flow down my cheeks. Dan ignores my apparent distress. Tears will not stop this either. I look at him, his image distorted in my watery gaze, and simply nod. I watch as with his free hand he reaches for one of the nipple clamps beside him on the bed. He opens the two arms, one handed still as he has not released my nipple, and slides the clamp over the distended peak. The ends of the clamp are coated in a softer material, silicon or rubber to protect my delicate nipples.
So considerate.
He slips the bead up the length of the clamp, forcing the two arms together around my tip. Only then does he let go with his fingers.

“Tighter?” He tips my chin up so he can see into my eyes. I don’t know what to say, but it seems he’s taking his signals from my expression anyway rather than my words. “Maybe a little?” He lifts one eyebrow, and interprets my silence, correctly, as consent.

His fingers deft and sure he eases the bead a fraction higher, increasing the bite by just a hair’s breadth, but it’s enough to push me to the edge of my endurance.

“Amber…” I whisper.

“Yes, amber. Now for the other one. Do you want to close your eyes again?”

I do. This time seems quicker, perhaps because I know what to expect. Dan’s handling of me is cool and efficient. There’s nothing cruel in his treatment, despite the pain he creates. His attention is focused wholly on me, on my responses. I know he’s aware of how I’m feeling even before I tell him. But I also know I have to use my safe word, he won’t stop otherwise. I bear the pressure, the pinching and merciless pulling on my tortured bud for as long as I can, concentrating on breathing as he told me before. When I can take no more, I mutter the one word that will stop it.