Rich Tapestry (12 page)

“It was ten, actually. You stopped counting. You
can
do this. Don’t try to fight it. Absorb the pain. Let it flow through you and away. And now, at least you know what to expect. No shocks, no surprises. It won’t get any worse than this, and should start to feel easier soon.

“Easy for you to say. Sir.”

He chuckles and straightens to take up his position behind me once more.

“Tell me when you’re ready to start again.”

“I’ll never be ready…”

“I’ll never be ready,
Sir
. You do like to live dangerously, considering.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please, Sir, just do it and let me get off this thing.”

“As you wish, Summer. I take it you’re ready for me to start again now.”

I take a deep breath, appreciating that for a Dom not known for his leniency I seem to be benefiting from a fair bit of it just now. He really is letting me off quite lightly. I don’t doubt Freya’s weathered far worse than this already tonight, and now she’s frolicking in the dungeon. Perhaps I’ll get to frolic later…?

“Yes. I’m ready, Sir.” And, as an afterthought, “Thank you.”

Slap.

“Eleven, Sir.”

Slap.

“Twelve, Sir.

Slap.

“Thirteen.”

We continue to twenty as he alternates between my buttocks, carefully placing the swats to cover my whole bottom. I’m amazed to find that it actually isn’t getting any more difficult to cope with. I wonder if he’s deliberately delivering lighter strokes, or maybe my pain threshold is higher now. Whatever, it
is
bearable. Uncomfortable, not an experience I’ll want to repeat, though I accept that was the purpose. It has worked. My manners are going to be much improved as a result.

At twenty, he stops.

“How are you doing, Summer?”

“I-I’m all right I think. Thank you, Sir.”

“How polite. I do believe you’re going to make a perfect little subbie, with a bit of practice. And training. And plenty of firm discipline.”

“Thank you, Sir.”
I think.
I brace for the final five slaps.

Instead, he slides his fingers between my stinging buttocks to explore the valley there, drawing his hand slowly down to reach my pussy. He slips his fingers between the slick, sensitive folds to plunge two of them deep into my cunt, scissoring them to create the pressure I crave. I moan in pleasure, squeezing his fingers.

“Mmm, hot and tight, and so wet. Pity I agreed not to fuck you. Still, I reckon we can drag a couple more orgasms out of you yet. Wouldn’t you agree, little slut?”

I don’t answer. My response is limited to a more physical form of communication. I grasp his thrusting fingers as tightly as I’m able.

“Greedy girl. I’m guessing you like this?” He pulls his fingers almost all the way out, slowly circling my entrance. “Do you want more?”

“Yes. Please, Sir, I…” Did I really tell him I didn’t want him to fuck me? At this precise moment, I want him to fuck me more than I want my next breath.

He obliges me by driving three fingers deep into my pussy, rubbing my G-spot as he finger-fucks me slowly. I gyrate my hips in an attempt to urge him to quicken his rhythm, but he’s having none of that. He continues to torment me with delightful, lazy strokes, teasing yet achingly sensual. I start to convulse around his gentle fingers, my climax building fast. He responds by withdrawing his hand, oblivious to my pleas.

“You’ll keep. Ready for this?”

“What? For what, Sir?” I’m confused, disorientated.

“This.” His palm connects with my buttock again, re-focusing my thinking instantly.

“Aah, Christ. I wasn’t ready.” I’m shivering, no doubt due to the combined effects of frustration, shock and renewed pain. Dan applies his much practiced palm to my tender backside with considerably more vigor than I suspect he did prior to our erotic little interlude.

“You should have said. I did ask. Bear up, little newbie sub, we’re almost finished. Then I’ll let you come again. If you ask me nicely.”

Somehow I know I’m going to be asking very nicely indeed. I don’t acknowledge that just yet though. Instead, I count.

“Twenty one.”

Slap.

“Twenty two.”

Slap.

“Twenty three.”

“I’m going to drop the last two directly onto your cunt. Keep your legs wide apart for this, Summer.”

“But I…”

“Quiet. You can safe word, or you can let me do this. Which is it?” His tone is hard, uncompromising.

And I know what the answer must be.

“Do it. Please. Sir.”

“Good girl.”

He wastes no time. The first spank to my pussy sends my body juddering into spasm, and the next sends me into orbit, my orgasm ricocheting through me like a bolt of lightning. I forget all about counting—I doubt I can recall how to, in any case—and I simply scream my joy as the powerful sensations pulse through my entire body. I’m held securely in place, but if I wasn’t, I’d by now be collapsing onto the floor as my knees have given way. My pussy is squeezing on nothing, my scalding buttocks clenching. I’m begging, though I don’t rightly know what it is I need, or want, at this moment.

Dan Riche knows. He plunges three solid fingers deep into me again, rubbing my G-spot expertly as I pant and groan in sheer, mindless ecstasy. His other palm is on the small of my back, holding me still for his ministrations. There’s no need. I don’t believe I ever want to move again, actually. Christ, did anything, ever, in the entire history of the world, feel as good as this?

The frantic pulsing seems to continue forever, though in reality could only be a few moments. Eventually my body stops convulsing, the tingles subside and my scrambled senses start to re-assert themselves. At last I can concentrate on mundane matters such as breathing. I lie still, secured to the bench, as Dan withdraws his fingers. His hand is on my bottom, his caress gentle, soothing as I re-gather my wits.

He walks around to the other side of the bench and crouches to unfasten my restraints. “Can you stand?”

I honestly don’t believe I can, but I attempt it anyway. Foolhardy endeavor. I would have slithered to the floor but for Dan catching me around the waist. He picks me up and carries me to the couch again, depositing me gently on my side. My eyes are closed, but I know he’s there, right in front of me. His breath is on my cheek. He’s smoothing my hair from my face with his fingers.

“Are you still with us, Summer?”

The voice is low and sexy, no longer demanding, but I feel compelled to respond anyway. I manage to crack open my eyes just enough to make out his face, close to mine. He really is incredibly good-looking, in a dark and dangerous sort of way. Not my type at all. I wish he’d kiss me.

His lips brushing my forehead suggest to me that Dan Riche’s telepathic antennae are fully tuned in. A sense of contentment washes through me. I could so easily drift off to sleep here…

I think perhaps I have dozed off, because now Dan is stroking my hair away from my face again, and this time he kisses my lips. I open my eyes as he breaks the kiss to nuzzle my nose with his.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. It’s bath time.”

“What? What did you say?” I’m incredibly groggy. Even though I feel to have slept for hours already, I’m sure I could easily manage to sleep for at least another week if he’d just bugger off and let me. I roll onto my back, the sharp pain in my bum reminding me of why he positioned me on my side to begin with. I start to roll back, but Dan’s palm on my breast stops me. There’s no force applied, I could move if I wanted to, but I choose instead to lie still, relishing the sweetness of his light caress. My tits might be small, but they do fit nicely in his hand and lack nothing in the sensitivity department, as he’s now amply demonstrating.

Dan circles my nipple slowly with his fingertip, teasing the pink tip to swollen hardness. He’s watching the motion of his finger and the effect it has on me. And I’m watching him. His profile is striking—his nose straight and narrow, his lips full. And soft, just as I remember. He’s sporting a slight shadow across his jaw, and he’ll probably need a shave before long. Without considering what I’m doing, I lift my hand to stroke his cheek, enjoying the raspiness of his emerging stubble. He turns his face to me, smiles, the expression purely dazzling. He takes my breath away.

My returning grin is shaky, hesitant. I have no idea what’s happening here or what comes next. Just that I feel good. And safe. And sore. He picks up on that.

“Do you feel suitably chastised, little sub?”

“I do, Sir.” I decide not to quarrel with his description of me. I certainly feel submissive at this moment.

“You can offer your apology again now, if you like…” He is still smiling at me, his expression gentle, tender almost. He has shifted his attentions to my other nipple, which is throbbing and swollen too, pebbling under his firm touch.

I have to think for a moment, my transgressions in the bar seem so long ago now. So much has happened—so much has shifted since then. I grope for the memory, find it.

“I’m sorry I was rude, Sir. Downstairs, in the bar. And, thank you for spanking me.” I did
not
intend to say that last thing. I’m not sure which of us is the most surprised to hear it. Me, probably.

“You’re welcome. Any time. Is that all you want to thank me for?”

No, it certainly isn’t.
Since I’m feeling grateful and sated, as well as chastised and more than slightly sore… “Thank you for making me come, Sir. Just now and earlier. Before…”

“Before I bent you over the bench and blistered your arse? Which is now a delightful shade of deep pink, incidentally. Sets your lovely swallows off perfectly.”

“Yes, Sir. Before that.” I suspect my face is a similar shade, I can feel the flush creeping up toward my hairline. Who’d have ever imagined I could still blush after all we’ve just done?

“Again, you’re welcome. You’re blushing, Summer…”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why…”

“Don’t apologize for that. It’s nice. And honest. And so pretty.” He pauses to brush his knuckles across my cheek. “So, are you perhaps feeling a little delicate just now? Physically
and
emotionally? First time and all that?”

I shift on the couch, the tenderness in my bum confirming that he’s right about the physical impact, at least. My emotional state is as much a mystery to me now, as it usually is. I shove that issue onto the growing pile of things to be considered properly later.

“Yes, Sir. A little.”

“Come with me then. I know just the thing for you. A relaxing soak. Yes?”

Sounds heavenly. I push myself up onto one elbow, conscious that I’m still naked, and noticing for the first time that he has removed his shirt. The black silk was sexy enough, but Dan Riche’s bare chest is much more so. I take a moment to stare, appreciating the view. He is tanned, a light dusting of dark hair across the upper part of his chest, softening the finely honed pecs. His stomach is flat and firm, just a hint of muscle there, tightened and bunching as he crouches in front of me. His arms are powerful—I already knew that by the way he effortlessly lifted me from the bench and carried me across the room. I take in the corded, solid muscles shifting under his skin. He looks supremely fit, active. I suppose vets do need some brute strength – I remember he way he lifted the badger from my car the first time we met. Or maybe he just likes to work out.

“Do you like to go to the gym, Dan?” I blurt out the question, then realize I’ve broken the rules about talking without permission. And I forgot to call him Sir. I slap my hand over my mouth, my heart lurching as the implications hit me.

He grins wickedly at me. “Not easy, is it? Technically we’re still in a scene, so the rules apply. But I’ve no intention of punishing you again this evening, so you can relax. Are you able to stand yet?”

I notice he hasn’t answered my question, but despite his reassurance, I’m not pushing it. “I think so. Where are we going?”

“I booked us a spa suite. I thought you’d appreciate the relaxation at this stage in the proceedings. You looked so tense earlier, down in the bar.” He stands and extends his hand to me.

I take it and struggle to my feet. He gives me a moment to regain full control of my legs then tugs me across the room toward a door in the far corner. I’d assumed that to be the en-suite loo but as we enter, I realize it’s a lot more than that.

I’m in a bathroom but one with bells on. There’s a sauna cubicle in one corner, big enough for two to stretch out, and a wet room area opposite that. A padded couch along one wall is clearly intended for massage and the various oils and creams on the shelf above suggest that would be a luxurious, not to mention sensuous, experience. But the dominant feature is the bath. The huge, sunken Jacuzzi bath, to be exact, in the center of the room. It’s already full, hot and steamy, and bubbling furiously. The tang of citrus in the air is delicious, and I can only gape.

He must have prepared this while I was asleep. For me. I turn to him, incredulous. I came up here with Dan expecting pain. And pleasure. I’ve had those. What I did not expect was to feel cared for. This has completely shattered my illusions about Dominance and submission. I was confused before—now I’m totally at sea. The more time I spend with Dan Riche, the more he satisfies my curiosity, the more cans of worms he opens up. The whole thing is an enigma, as much a mystery to me now as it ever was. Maybe more so. I don’t know how to react. I have no mechanism to cope with this. So I stand, open-mouthed, and I stare.

If Dan notices my confusion, he makes no comment. Instead, he unfastens his jeans and slides them off. His feet are already bare, I notice. His bright red boxer shorts follow, and Dan is suddenly before me, gloriously naked—and totally unconcerned. He strolls over to the Jacuzzi, adjusts one of the controls and steps over the side into the bath. He walks down a couple of steps, then turns to gift me with a last look as he bends to lower himself into the foaming water.

I’ve made it my business not to look at men in any state of undress. I always kept my eyes tight shut in the past, and though I’m no virgin in many respects, I might as well be. I know what it feels like to be fucked, functionally, dispassionately, but this sensual relaxation, this enjoyment of another, this pampering is totally alien to me.