Darker (22 page)

I look up at him sharply, surprised he’d even want to ask that. “You? No, of course not! But are you sure? About the rats, I mean?”

“Yes. Certain. Now, about those balls…”

I regard him carefully for a few moments, and cast one last look around the barn. No harm in checking. Then, “What if someone comes in? While I’m doing whatever you have in mind, with your balls?”

“No one’s coming in. And I’m not talking about my balls, though you’re very welcome to play with them too, if you’ve a mind to. Later. No, I’m talking about your balls.” He grins wickedly, clearly finding my baffled expression amusing. “These balls, to be exact.”

He slips his hand into the front pocket of his jeans and pulls out a small cloth sack, the sort you might get from a jeweller’s. It’s made of red velvety fabric, and closed by a drawstring around the top. He dangles it from his forefinger, swinging it hypnotically in front of me.

“What’s that?” I ask suspiciously. “Nipple clamps?”

“I said a ball game, Miss Byrne. You need to concentrate. Though if you want nipple clamps too I could certainly improvise something for you. Would you like that?”

“No. No, thank you. Though it’s kind of you to offer.” I’m beginning to enter into the spirit of this now, and can feel myself starting to moisten. And I’m desperate to know what’s in that little bag. I reach for it, but he whips it behind his back.

“Say please, like a good little sub.”

“Please. Sir.” I add the last for good measure, though my sarcastic tone is somewhat less than submissive.

He just smiles, shakes his head sadly. “You’ll have to do much better than that, Miss Byrne. Say please nicely. And mean it.”

His voice has hardened, become firm, unrelenting, and I know this is serious now. This is Nathan in Dom mode, and with some surprises on offer. This means I’m in for a hard time, possibly, but I know it’ll be worth it. It always has been. And Nathan the Dom can always bring out Eva the submissive—effortlessly it seems.

“Please, sir, show me what’s in the bag.” This time my tone is soft, respectful. Suitably subdued. It works, and with a smile he drops the bag into my outstretched palm. I carefully untie the string loop around the top and open it to peer inside.

There are two small, egg-like balls in the bottom of the bag. They look to be held together with a piece of cord. I pour them out onto my hand, and they roll jerkily across my palm before I close it around them. At first I thought they were made of metal because the bag seemed heavy, but now I see they’re made of some sort of silicone. The linking cord is silicone too, and has a longer length at one end. As I hold them in my hand I can feel that they’re weighted inside to cause the uneven rolling motion. They remind me of some magic beans I once had as a small child—I played with those for hours, marching them down the stairs. I somehow doubt that’s what Nathan has in mind now.

But what does he have in mind? I glance up at him questioningly. “What are these? Sir?”

He smiles at my belated politeness. “Very good. But you do need to practise. I want that to roll off your tongue rather better. And talking of rolling, and tongues, though that comes later, these are Ben Wa balls. Or something very similar.” At my puzzled expression he continues, clarifying for me. “They go inside you. And the weights in them make them roll and move around when you do. Wonderful sensation. Or so I understand. Would you like to try them, Miss Byrne?”

I tighten my hand around them, rocking it from side to side to feel the shifting weights inside the little egg-shaped balls bumping and rolling against my fingers. It does indeed feel…sensual. And I can only start to imagine how that will feel inside my vagina. But still, here? In a barn? Where Tom or one of his farm workers might walk in on our little floorshow at any time? Where there might even be rats lurking in corners, no matter how efficient the feral cats?

I get no time to ponder further on the wisdom of all this. “If you wouldn’t mind, Miss Byrne, I’d like you to undress, please. I want you naked for this.”

“Naked? Here?”

“Yes, Miss Byrne. Naked. Here. Now.” His tone is stern and unrelenting, and he expects no further debate. I know when to back down, so I take a deep breath, and start to undress.

“I’ll take your jacket, if you don’t mind. And the balls.” He holds out his hand, and I pass him my Rohan jacket. He takes the balls in his other hand, before slipping them into his pocket. As I crouch down to untie the laces on my tough walking shoes and roll off my socks, he strolls over to where several large bales of hay are stacked against the far wall of the barn, directly under one of the roof lights so bathed in summer sunshine. He spreads my jacket across the top of a bale, about three and a half feet high. I guess that’s where we’re going to be playing, then.

He turns back to me, leans back to prop one hip against the edge of the bale, and watches me while I continue to undress. I’m no longer shy around Nathan, but I am terribly conscious that we could be disturbed at any moment. I don’t doubt Tom will have no objection to our being here. He probably won’t even mind what we’re doing in his barn as there are no animals in here for us to scare. But even so…

I swallow my doubts—no point at all in voicing them when Nathan’s in this mood. Best to go with it and enjoy the fun. It only takes me a couple of minutes to lose the rest of my clothing, which I fold and place neatly beside me on the floor of the barn. When I’m finished, I stand back up straight and wait for his instructions. I’ve learnt it’s generally best not to anticipate. Sure enough, he waits for a few moments, clearly enjoying the sight of me naked, surrounded by farm machinery and bales of hay, and ready for whatever he chooses to do next. At last, he beckons me to come over to him. I walk carefully across the floor, conscious that I’m barefoot. I’m still far from happy about the possibility of something fast and furry shooting out from under the hay. And I definitely don’t want to step in anything they might leave behind…

When I reach him, Nathan drops a quick kiss on my mouth before placing his hands on my waist and lifting me effortlessly onto the bale of hay behind him. He seats me on top of my jacket, my legs dangling. He places his hands on the inside of my knees and parts my thighs enough that he can stand between them. He rakes my body with his eyes, which if anything seem even darker than usual, then he slips his hands behind me to pull me towards him. He kisses me again, this time a long, deep kiss. His tongue is inside my mouth, and he tastes wonderful. I tangle my hands in his hair, loving the smooth softness of it as it slips between my fingers. Then my tongue is in his mouth, chasing his tongue, tangling with it as he sucks and nibbles. Then he gently scrapes his teeth across my lower lip before drawing that into his mouth. He moves his hands lower, cupping my bottom as he continues to play with my mouth, seemingly in no hurry to move this along. Me neither, as I manage to completely forget all my earlier concerns about unwanted company, of either the two-legged or long-tailed variety.

At last, he lifts his head, smiles warmly at me. “Christ, you’re lovely. You turn me on so much I can’t think straight. Now, where were we?”

“You were talking balls, sir.” I like to be helpful.

He narrows his eyes at me, and nods slightly. “Ah, yes. Balls.” He reaches into his pocket to retrieve the silicone eggs, glances at them rolling innocently across his palm. “So, Miss Byrne, I’d like you to lie back, please, and open your legs wide for me.”

Now this is a position I definitely like. I shuffle back onto the bale a little farther, enough to be able to bring my heels up and place them on the edge, and I spread my thighs wide. Nathan maintains eye contact with me as he trails the backs of his fingers along my cleft, from my tight little anus, across my labia and finally circling my clit. He does this slowly, deliberately, several times, a slight smile playing across his lips as he watches me writhe under his hands, feels the moisture gather At last, he slowly inserts just the tip of his finger into my slick, wet channel. I gasp, thrusting upwards for more, but he places his other hand, the one still holding the little balls, across my stomach to keep me in place.

“Keep still, Miss Byrne. I’ll tell you when it’s time to move.” He waits until I’m settled, perfectly still again, before he slides his finger deep inside me. I can’t prevent the moan of pleasure that escapes me. My eyes roll shut, but he insists I open them again, refusing to move or touch me again until I do.

“Keep your eyes open, and looking at me, Miss Byrne. I want to watch you unravel. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” My voice is just a whisper, but it’s enough. He withdraws his finger, only to slide it back again, this time accompanied by two more. I catch my breath again, my eyes widening as he plunges deep.

“Is that good, Eva?”

“Yes.” Again I’m whispering.

“You’re so hot and wet. And tight. I think you’re loving this, aren’t you?” He continues to finger-fuck me, curling his longest middle finger to make sure he hits that exact spot on my inner wall to make me convulse and clench around him as the ecstasy builds. “Tell me, Eva, are you loving this as much as I am?”

“Yes. Oh yes.” I’m still managing the eye contact, but only with a supreme effort of will, and despite his hand on my stomach, my hips are gyrating wildly. He seems not to mind my movements now, and when he shifts his hand slightly to position his thumb on my clit, rubs firmly, once, twice, that does it. Whatever his instructions I close my eyes as my orgasm bubbles and explodes, and I’m flying. His fingers are still inside me as I clench and squeeze, my inner muscles no longer under my control as the climax takes over. He continues to stroke my clit, drawing every last shudder and tremor from me before at last I’m still again, quiet. He leans forward to kiss my navel before finally sliding his wonderful, clever fingers out of my vagina.

“Well, you’re nice and wet now. I don’t think we’ll need this. At least, not yet.” He pulls a tube of lubricant from his other jeans pocket then drops it onto the bale beside me. Talk about coming prepared, quite the Boy Scout. I can’t stop the slight smile at the thought, and he catches it.

“Something amusing you, Miss Byrne? Let’s see if we can really bring a smile to your face…” And I gasp as he uses the fingers of his left hand to gently part my labia and swiftly slides first one little egg, then its twin, deep into my pussy. He uses his fingers to push them up deep inside me, snugly held within my slick channel. And he’s right about the lubricant—my body is utterly unresisting.

He withdraws his fingers, leans over me, still standing between my widespread legs, his hands planted at either side of my shoulders.

“How does that feel?”

I shake my head, unsure. I give a tentative little squeeze, and can feel the balls pressing against my inner walls. It feels…odd, definitely not unpleasant, but not especially remarkable either. “Fine. I think…”

“Fine, you think? Not nearly good enough, Miss Byrne.” And with no further ado he lifts me from the bale and plants me back on my feet in front of him. He takes both my hands in his and steps back. I step forward to follow him, and the balls shift.

“Christ!” I splutter, and double up. Nathan laughs, moves to stand behind me and straightens me. The balls lurch sideways again as I move and I gasp. I’d be doubled up again, or on the floor possibly, but for Nathan holding me upright.

“Now how does it feel?” He murmurs the words into my ear, and I lean back against him, let him take my weight as I concentrate on the weird and absolutely wonderful sensations coursing through me. The lovely little eggs tilt and roll, the uneven weights pulling them in one direction then another, every movement of mine causing them to shift again. Instinctively I squeeze and grip them, but even though the eggs themselves might remain still, more or less, the inner weights are still loose and mobile, and causing the most exquisite friction deep inside my vagina.

“Eva, tell me how it feels now.” His tone is insistent—my Dom expects an answer.

“Fabulous. Indescribable. It’s like… Like…” My words trail away as he steps backwards, drawing me with him, and the eggs give another glorious little tumble inside me. I groan, and suddenly feel an overwhelming urge to stroke my own clit. I start to reach for it, but he anticipates my action and grabs my hand.

“Not yet, my sexy little sub. Maybe later. First there’s the matter of your disrespect and disobedience earlier. And you didn’t finish what you were saying.”

“Please, I need to come. Again. Please let me…”

“No. You’ll come when I say so. Now, you walk.”

“I can’t walk. I can’t move a muscle. Every time I do these things move and…”

“I know how they work. I’m wondering about making you walk back to Black Combe with them still inside you. It might take a while, but it’ll take your mind off flowers and grass.”

“I can’t. Please don’t…”

“Okay, not all the way home then. But you can manage to stagger over to that water trough over there, and back here. You just need to grip the balls tight. Squeeze them hard and you’ll be fine.”

I glance up and see the water trough about fifteen feet away. And it might as well be fifteen miles. I don’t think I can manage more than one or two steps and stay upright. The sensations are not painful, or uncomfortable. They are simply wonderful. And completely overwhelming.

Gently he pushes me upright until I’m taking my own weight again, then quickly lets go of me, steps around me and over to the target water trough. He stands in front of it, facing me. “Get a grip, girl, and come here.”

I recognise that tone, and I know I need to get one foot in front of the other and do this. It’s only a few steps, and now at least I know what to expect. Sure enough, the first couple of shuffling paces are difficult, slow-going as I clench convulsively around the wildly rolling and tumbling eggs, instinctively working my inner muscles in an attempt to draw them deeper inside. He’s patient, makes no attempt to hurry me as I inch forward, and my confidence quickly grows. Too quickly. The final couple of steps are made at near normal speed, and the Ben Wa balls go into overdrive. I lurch forward, and so does Nathan, catching me before I fall. He sweeps me up and carries me back to the bale of hay where my jacket is still spread out enticingly. He plants me back on my feet, and I lean against the bale, savouring the continuing motion of the balls.