Vanilla (16 page)

There was always another one, but he held out
hope for 'the one'. He knew she was out there somewhere, but in the
meantime...

He gently moved Blondie off him and flipped
onto his stomach. He propped himself up on one elbow, and woke her
with a tongue across her nipple.

He silenced her good morning - as gorgeous as
she was, he knew this was a one night thing, and he didn't want to
get into a conversation.

Besides which, when you were having good sex
who needed conversation?

He kissed her other nipple and cupped her
breast with one hand, squeezing it and caressing it.

His mouth was hot on her body and she was
grinning like an idiot.

He kissed her neck and cheek.

She kissed his earlobe and neck.

They kissed each other, tongues probing and
playing with each other, fingers everywhere.

He groaned as she gripped his cock. She was a
little rougher than he usually liked but he could manage.

She pulled at him, digging her fingernails
into his balls.

He kissed her mouth, harder, more
insistent.

He moved down her body, kissing her nipples,
the underside of her tits, small and pert as they were, he kissed
her stomach, poking his tongue in her belly button, causing her to
squeal.

He kissed her, where her pubes should have
been - she was shaved, which he didn't really like - and then
opened her legs, licking her all the way down to her butt
crack.

Blondie giggled.

Will smiled. He loved women and he loved
sex.

He always had, ever since his first sexual
encounter with the girl next door when they were both sixteen.

He'd moved on since then, but he would never
forget her.

He was as enthusiastic in sex as with
everything else in his life and he knew it wouldn't take Blondie
long to have a gorgeous orgasm.

If he made love to a woman and she didn't
have at least one orgasm then he was doing something wrong!

He traced her pussy lips with his tongue,
finding the feel of them without hair a little bit alien.

He lapped at her clit and slid a finger
inside her, gently rubbing until she was shuddering.

Will smiled and sucked at her juices until he
felt her shudder again.

Two strikes - brilliant!

Blondie was murmuring and moaning, and Will
was happy.

He kissed back up her body, enjoying turning
her to jelly, enjoying the pleasure he could give her.

He sucked on one of her tiny button nipples
until she physically had to push him off.

"Make love to me now?" she asked him,
desperate to feel him inside her.

"Not yet," he said, his voice a growl. He was
horny, but not ready to finish yet.

He kissed her neck and then her mouth. She
kissed him back, enthusiasm obvious.

He flipped her over onto her back and kissed
the back of her neck. He rubbed at her back, feeling her turn to
liquid.

He caressed her bum and the tops of her
legs.

"Lift your bum up," he told her and slipped
his hand underneath her, finding her wetness.

He kissed her back and along her spine as he
fingered her, rubbing and caressing her.

He moved his fingers quicker, feeling her
grinding down on her hand, moving faster and faster and then
screaming out as another orgasm gripped her.

"Shit!" she swore out, relaxing onto his
hand.

He moved his hand and then flipped her back
onto her back.

"Ready?"

She nodded her head, pulling at his arms,
trying to bring him close to her, ready for him, desperate for
him.

Will wasn't ready to give into her yet, he
loved teasing.

He kissed her and lay above her, very gently
dipping just the tip of his cock inside her. She thrust upwards,
desperate to fuck him.

He lifted up, out of her way.

"Please!" her voice was sulky. "Let me suck
you, then."

He shrugged. He could cope with that.

He lay down, arms locked above his head, eyes
closed.

Her mouth was hard but sweet on his cock,
enveloping him and sucking him off like a hoover.

There wasn't much subtlety in Blondie, that
was for sure.

He felt her fingernails dig into his balls
again.

He didn't mind it, but he wasn't really one
for this pleasure / pain thing.

Pleasure was pleasurable, pain hurt like
fuck.

Who would want to combine the two?

He let her suck for a little longer, sure his
cock would turn purple, and then gently pulled back from her.

He was ready to shag now.

He readied himself above her, teasing her by
rubbing his cock across her pussy, but not inside her.

Will knew he was driving her wild.

He gave in and plunged inside her. She was so
wet, so ready for him.

His rhythm was excellent, reading her body
and her face; when to drive harder into her, when to pull back and
tease her.

She was squirming and grabbing at him, just
wanting him to hammer her orgasm home.

Will was smiling, though, nibbling on her
ear, as he made love to her, harder, then softer, slow and deep and
then fast and hard.

She came again, screaming his name and
digging her fingernails into his back.

A few more strokes and he joined her,
flinging his head back as the orgasm took over his body; the
release sweet and strong.

They lay together in contented silence, Will
already moving on to the day ahead and what he needed to do.

Blondie was moving on to the week ahead and
wondering how often she might get to see Will.

Will wasn't planning on seeing her again.

He wasn't ready for even a fling at the
moment.

He was busy with his university degree and he
had some private commissions for his art work - he was starting to
get noticed.

He made her breakfast and then sent her on
her way with a promise to catch up in a few weeks, when things
weren't so busy and he had the time to do something fun with
her.

Blondie left with a smile on her face and a
heat between her legs that reminded her of how she had spent the
morning and the night before.

Will showered and dressed in faded jeans and
a scruffy t-shirt.

He let his dirty blonde hair dry naturally,
not worrying about the little kink it always had in it.

He poured himself a coffee and then relaxed
watching TV until it was time to go measure up some rich man's wall
to see how big the art he was doing for him should be.

He knew what the man wanted - it wasn't
normally the style he painted - lots of nudity and sexual
titillation, but Will was happy to make some money - being a poor
student was hard work.

He could paint sex.

Easily.

Just had to measure up first.

Will grinned.

Life was sweet.

Kittie lounged on her cushion for a while,
contented, and then the blues kicked in.

She got a bottle of wine from the kitchen and
a glass.

She poured a hefty measure and glugged it
down.

She was only blue because she was on her own.
When Daniel was with her she was just fine. Alone, the worry and
the little voices in her head kicked in.

He doesn't really love you.

He's just using you.

If he loved you he'd leave his wife.

If he loved you he wouldn't enjoy hurting
you.

She tugged at her collar, feeling it tight
against the soft skin of her neck.

Her leash was made of black velvet ribbon and
there was enough give on it that she could walk around the whole
apartment.

She could just take it off but she never
had.

Not since that one time.

She could just leave.

But she wouldn't.

She poured more wine.

The weekends were getting worse

The time away from Daniel was filled with
questions and worries.

Was this love?

Of course it was!

She stared at the camera - not knowing if
Daniel was even watching her now.

Did he think about her when he wasn't with
her?

Did he worry about her the way she worried
about him?

How would she know?

She rang him sometimes, but he would never
answer.

Sometimes he would pick up the receiver and
she would just listen to him breathing.

He knew it was her but would never speak.

He liked to be in control.

He only spoke if he rang her.

She poured more wine; she was nearly through
with the bottle. But there was always more.

She was feeling frail - she barely ate when
he was away and drank so much.

To dull the pain of being without him.

Not to dull the pain of what she had
become.

She looked down at her body - once voluptuous
and shapely, now skinny and wasted.

She fetched more wine.

She would be pissed and then pass out
soon.

Maybe she could sleep until Sunday when he
came back.

When she could scratch around at his feet
like the pet she was, desperate for a scrap of affection.

.

Only a year ago life had been normal.

She had met Daniel through a friend in the
city - he had taken a liking to her and within the hour they were
in his car, fucking.

He had been rough and vocal, calling her a
dirty bitch, a filthy whore.

His version of love so warped by his cruel
past.

He was so damaged but she knew she could fix
him, far better than his wife could.

And so it had begun.

With each week she was deeper in his thrall,
falling further under his spell.

With each abuse he was more daring, more
willing to push things further.

Now she lived in an apartment that he had
paid for, under his control, happy to be submissive, because she
knew it would help him, that her love could heal him.

Poor Daniel.

She slugged more wine down, feeling the buzz
kick in.

She was nearly at a bottle and a half. It was
taking more and more alcohol to get the same high as when she used
to drink a little.

She supposed that was the same with Daniel -
it took more and more to please him sexually and the thrill had to
keep getting bigger, so the high could hit him.

What else could she do but let him?

The leash had been his idea - he loved the
thought of her being a sex slave for him. He loved that she was
under his control. It had started off just once in a while - like a
little role-pay and then it got more and more often, until she was
living pretty much full-time as his pet.

And of course, pets were good to loan to
friends.

The first time Daniel had brought a friend
home - a fat, overweight chap from his work, Kittie had been unsure
of what he was expecting to happen.

She was in her underwear, heels and leash.
Her collar tight, her cheeks blushing.

It soon became clear.

Daniel sat in his armchair, with a glass of
scotch, and told her to have sex with his friend.

She had honestly thought he was joking, until
the man undressed.

Daniel had drunk his scotch and watched
them.

Kittie had bitten her tongue through the
whole episode to make sure that no tears fell.

The blood that filled her mouth was a sad
reminder of Daniel and what he represented.

He was broken from his past.

But she knew she had to hold on.

She had to be a good Kittie.

She could fix him.

.

She got more wine and sat curled up watching
the camera.

Was he watching?

She knew that he used to watch.

He would ring her and tell her to masturbate.
Tell her that he wanted to watch her pleasure herself.

He was usually thousands of feet in the air
in his private jet when he made her do this. He said it made the
trip fly by.

She was usually dulled by alcohol and when
she closed her eyes to touch herself she imagined warm fingers.
Fingers that wanted to love and caress her not pinch and hurt
her.

She really was a good little pet.

Daniel couldn't ask for better.

All the things she did for him and let him do
to her were expressions of his love for her as much as they were of
her love for him.

Only true love would let Daniel express his
past hurts through his present pain.

If she had a choice, of course, she wouldn't
choose to do things the way he wanted. He liked her to be
submissive - that much was obvious enough from her leash, but he
also liked extremes of pain that she had never encountered before -
whips and chains and clamps.

She let him - she always let him.

And every time he came, she saw herself as
getting one step closer to his salvation - one step closer to the
life she wanted with him; a normal life.

They would have everything.

He had money - so much money, notoriety,
business prowess and when she helped him to banish his demons
through extreme sexual healing, they would get married and have
children and live happily ever after.

She knew it was coming.

Every slash of the whip was one step
closer.

Every bite of a nipple clamp was one step
closer.

Every minute of her submission to his
devastating masculinity was a step closer.

She was the woman to heal him and in her
drunken state she decided to ring him and tell him that.

She forgot that he wouldn't answer.

She forgot that he was jetting home to the
office near his family home.

She forgot that he wouldn't even bother
speaking to her until Sunday night when he would come home and
expect the best food to be served to him, the finest champagne and
eventually his little pet, to submit to his every sexual whim.

She always forgot.

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