Spirit (21 page)

“Where should I…”

“Anywhere. Don’t worry about that.” His tone is clipped, matter-of-fact, as though women undress for him every day. On reflection, perhaps they do. But for me this is a big deal and I hesitate for a few moments before continuing. I have no reason to suppose Matt is unaware of my discomfort, he’s missed nothing else so far, but he makes no comment. He crosses his ankles, and he waits.

I pull the vest over my head, and now I’m just in my bra and knickers. Did he mean I was to take off everything? He didn’t actually say naked. I glance over at him, seeking some sort of clue.

“Problem, Beth?”

“No, I just, I mean, I was wondering if you need me to take everything off.”

“I don’t need you to. But I want you to. I seem to recall you were much less modest in the past.”

Enough said. I reach behind me to unhook my bra and allow it to drop onto the floor with the rest of my stuff. I resist the impulse to cross my arms in front of me. After all, as he’s already pointed out more or less, he’s seen me naked before.

Even so, I feel much more exposed now than I remember ever feeling in the past. Much more vulnerable. My mouth is dry as I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my pants and shove those down too. I step out of them and straighten, meeting his gaze.

He smiles, the grin sexy and approving. I don’t think I’ve changed that much in the last six years, except to fill out a little, which must be a good thing, surely. From his expression I think he likes what he sees. Oh God, I hope so.

Matt swings his legs to the floor and stands. He saunters across the room to where I stand, stiff and immobile. I wait, for what? Some comment? Approval? Some pronouncement that I’ll do, that I somehow pass his inspection?

Matt circles me, viewing me from every angle. He comes to a halt behind me and lifts my hair from my shoulders. I stiffen, but don’t move. He trails his lips down my neck and across my exposed shoulder, nibbling with the edge of his teeth. I shiver.

“Cold, love?”

“No. No, I’m fine. Thank you.” How polite I am.

“Fine? Yes, you are, very fine. Fucking gorgeous, I’d say. But then I knew that. You didn’t though, did you?

“What do you mean?”

“All the time you were undressing you looked worried, nervous. Did you think I wouldn’t like your body, Beth? Your perfect, beautiful body?”

He reaches around me to cup my left breast, grazing my nipple with the palm of his hand. The sensitive peak swells and stiffens, then pebbles even more as he squeezes it between his finger and thumb.

“Do you like this, Beth? Do you like me to touch you?”

“Yes,” My answer is more a breathy moan than an articulated word, but he seems to get my meaning. He brings his other hand around to apply the same treatment to my other nipple. He turns me to my right so I can see myself reflected in the mirrors on the front of the wardrobe, my skin pale in contrast to his tanned hands covering my breasts.

“See, you are lovely. You always were.”

I lean back against him as he trails his left hand down over my stomach to feather his fingers in the trimmed curls at the apex of my thighs. “This is nice too, very neat.”

“Thank you. I think.”

“Thank you is good, but if I’m to tie you to those railings I really believe it should be thank you, sir.”

“Sir?”

“Mmm…” He squeezes my right nipple and the shock ricochets through me, straight to my clit.

“Oh, oh, sir I…”

“Nice? More?”

“Yes, more. Please.”

“Please, what?” Another sharp squeeze, more painful this time.”

“Please, sir.”

“Better.” He returns to massaging my breast at the same time as he slides his left hand between my legs. I widen my stance instinctively.

Matt’s fingers part my folds as he reaches farther, exploring the length of my slit. I hear the sounds of my gathering moisture, and close my eyes, embarrassed. Matt angles his hand and slips two fingers inside me. My knees almost buckle, but his arms around me provide enough stability to keep me upright. Just. He withdraws his fingers, only to plunge them back into me. I let out a long, low moan, my inner muscles starting to convulse.

“So wet, so ready.” He pauses, then, “So, those railings?”

“Yes?”

He slides his fingers from me and releases my breast. As he steps back I stagger as I have to support my own weight again. He leans in to murmur in my ear. “Go lean on them, fold your arms along the top. Lift your bum as high as you can.”

I turn, peep up at him. “What are you going to do?”

Now that it’s come to it my nervousness must be plain, written all over my face. Matt drops a quick kiss onto my lips.

“Trust me.”

I do, and it’s enough. I move over to the rail and lean over it as instructed. I gaze down into the hallway below, listening to Matt’s movements behind me. Despite my trepidation my pussy moistens still more at the sound of the blanket chest opening, the scrape of objects on the lid as he selects whatever he intends to use, then the soft slam of the lid closing again. Footsteps behind me, then the gentle, scattered thud as several objects hit the carpet. A tube of lube rolls into my line of vision. I know what that suggests. I tremble, but not with fear. Not exactly.

“I’m going to tie your arms to the top rail, each of your hands to the opposite elbow. Is that alright?”

I turn my head to see that Matt has a length of rope in his hands. It’s black, and sort of shiny.

“Not too tight.”

“No definitely not. You won’t be able to move, but you’ll come to no harm.”

“I know. It’s just, I’m having a little wobble here. Don’t mind me.”

He smiles. “Wobbling’s fine, but I’d prefer you to tell me when you’re struggling. I can always slow down, or try something else. So, we’re okay to continue? Yes?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t move, so I nod for greater emphasis. Still nothing, unless a raised eyebrow counts. Then I remember. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” He leans around me to secure my arms as he described, wrapping the rope around my wrists and elbows several times then pulling the knot into place. I try an experimental wriggle to find I’m held firm, bent at the waist, my bottom available for—whatever.

I watch over my shoulder as Matt pulls his T-shirt over his head. The sight of his bare chest is a rare treat, taut muscles rippling across the sculpted contours and sprinkled with fine hair, which disappears into the waistband of his jeans. I hold my breath as I wait for him to drop those too, but he merely strolls around to the other side of me, taking the time to draw his palm across the globes of my upturned bum.

“Nice arse, Beth. I always thought so.”

I wriggle my hips, loving his touch but still not quite sure of my allure to him. “I was too thin.”

“Maybe then. Not now. Now your bottom’s lovely and curvy, firm but soft enough to have some real fun. And we
are
going to have fun here, Beth. That’s what this is all about.”

He stands behind me and slides his fingers into the crevice between my buttocks, reaching down until he parts the folds of my pussy from behind. He hasn’t asked me to spread my legs but I do anyway, revelling in the sensual caress. The flat of his fingers and palm are stroking my pussy, his fingertips rubbing my clit. I writhe, the curl and clench of orgasm starting already. He knows his stuff, knows just where to touch, just how to arouse me.

I whimper and lift my bottom in wordless pleading. Can it really be this easy? Does he really have to do no more than tie me up and stroke my cunt to bring me to a climax in seconds?

It would seem so. I close my eyes and allow my body to simply respond.

Without warning he withdraws his hands and I’m alone. Abandoned. I turn my head to see him crouching a couple of feet away, picking up an object from the floor. It’s a bullet vibrator.

“What are you going to do with that?” On a stupid questions scale of one to ten, that must score about twenty-seven. Matt certainly thinks so as he grins at me, his leer quite wicked.

“In the future, when you’re a little more confident—in yourself and in me—I’ll probably blindfold you and let you try to guess what I’m using. For now though, since you’ve seen it and you’ve asked, this is going inside your sweet cunt. It’s small, you’ll have to squeeze to hold on to it. I’ll be stroking your clit, and we both know how much you love that, but if you drop our little toy I’ll stop. So, how’s that for incentive?”

“I think it should be very persuasive, sir.”

“I thought it might. And if you treat our toy with the respect it deserves, I’ll let you come. Then I’ll put it in your arse, and we do it all again.”

“I… oh.”

“Did I hear a sir?”

“Sir. Sorry. Will it hurt? In my arse, I mean. You said you wouldn’t hurt me?”

“What I actually said was I wouldn’t harm you. But no, it’s small, you’ll be able to accept it easily. With plenty of lube, and I’ll take as much time as you need.”

He has straightened again as he was speaking to me, and now he’s standing right behind me, his palm again caressing my buttocks. He shoves the bullet into the front pocket of his jeans, then uses both hands to part my globes.

“Such a pretty arse. But a little tight for what I have in mind. Maybe I should help you to loosen up a little…”

I gasp as he presses the tip of his finger against the pucker of muscle, applying just enough pressure to make his presence felt but without penetrating me. Yet.

“Some lube, I think.”

The oil is cool as he trickles it down the crack between my buttocks, and I gasp some more as he catches the stream with his finger and works it around my untried anus.

“Oh God, I don’t think I can do this.”

“You don’t need to do anything, Beth. Just relax, if you can, and don’t fight me. If you need me to stop, really need me to stop, just say ‘red’ and I will. I promise.”

“Oh, oooh.” I let out a long moan as his finger slips into my arse, helped on its way by the slick lube.

“Beth, did you hear what I said? What’s your safe word?”

“Red. It’s red.”

“Okay. And do you need to use it now?”

“No, I don’t think so. I-I’m fine. I think.”

“Your colour for being fine is green. And yellow is for if you’re struggling, close to your limit. Or in your words, yellow is for when you’re having a wobble. So, what colour are you now, Beth?”

“Yellow. I’m yellow.”

“Am I hurting you?” He withdraws his finger and slides it back, just an inch or so I think though it’s hard to be sure. The intrusion feels really strange, intimate, humiliating, yet beautifully wicked. My clit’s throbbing, aching to be touched, and if he does make contact there I know I’ll detonate in a moment.

“No, not hurting. Oh God, I need you to rub my clit. Make me come. Please, Matt. Sir.”

“Soon, Beth. First I want you to look after my little toy for me, remember?”

“Yes, anything. Just, I need…” He presses his finger deeper into my arse, at the same time using his other hand to insert two or maybe three fingers into my pussy. I clamp my inner muscles around them, gyrating my hips in a desperate attempt to get him to stroke my clit. It doesn’t work, obviously, and within moments he withdraws them again.

“Keep still a moment, if you can.” He murmurs the words as he presses something hard and unrelenting past my opening. The vibrator slides in easily, my own juices throwing down the welcome mat. There’s a delightful sensation as Matt’s fingers rim my inner lips, embedding the toy deep inside me, then I let out a keening cry as the vibrations start. It’s both glorious and alien, a pulsing deep inside me that I can’t control, that I can only feel, experience. The bullet is in direct contact with my inner walls, sending deep tremors through my nervous system. All the signals seem to head direct to my poor, swollen clit, and I’m ready to scream if he doesn’t do something, anything, to put me out of my misery.

Suddenly his hands are not on me any more. He steps away to hitch a hip on the balcony rail at my side. I turn my face to him, ready to plead, to threaten, to promise anything.

“Hush, love. Don’t talk unless it’s to say red or yellow. Just feel. Concentrate on holding that bullet inside you. Don’t let it slip, you need to squeeze it. Hard.”

I do as he says, and the sensation becomes so intense I want to let go, to relax. But I know if I do, if I drop the toy, I’ll get no orgasm. I want it now, need it, but restrained as I am I have to wait for him to give it to me, that sweet friction against my throbbing, needy clit.

“Sir, you promised, if I held on to it that you’d be stroking my clit. Please, sir, I need it, you…”

“Okay, as you’ve asked so nicely. And you are doing as you’re told so beautifully.”

He leans forward and reaches under me to scrape his fingernail across the tip of my clit, the merest, most delicate of caresses but it sends shock waves through my entire body. I stiffen, every nerve ending on red alert, reaching out for the next touch, greedy for it, desperate for it.

“Again?” He is circling my clit now, his fingers gentle but maddening as they avoid my most sensitive spot.

“Yes. Don’t stop. Oh God, please don’t stop again.”

“I haven’t stopped, just off target. Do you mean me to touch you here?” He adjusts his angle just enough to bring the pad of his finger into contact with the base of my clit. He strokes around it, long and slow and tantalisingly close. I’m almost there, just another moment, a little more.

“Or would you prefer this, perhaps?” He shifts suddenly to kneel behind me. I instinctively lift my bum more and spread my legs wider. He uses his thumbs to fully expose my clit. Then, he takes it between his lips and he sucks it.

“Christ, I—aaagh!” My orgasm is instantaneous and so powerful it would have brought me to my knees but for the ropes securing me to the rail, and Matt’s shoulders between my thighs holding me up. My body shakes as the waves of sensation punch my nervous system into a quivering wreckage, the aftershocks alone still strong enough to make me groan with pure pleasure.

At last it stops, my scrambled senses start to gather again and I become aware of my surroundings. I open my eyes and attempt to focus on Matt’s hallway several feet below. His tongue is still flicking my clit, but more slowly now, leisurely, drawing me back into this moment of shared intimacy. He draws back and stands, leaning over me to whisper in my ear.