Faith (7 page)

She hisses from time to time, wriggling occasionally, but for the most part she remains quite immobile, her eyes closed as she submits to this. I am fascinated, as much by Melanie’s submissive mind-set as by the tableau unfolding before us. Even so, Matthew is quite an artist; his designs are both intricate and erotic. Despite Melanie’s almost-nudity, the overall impression created is one of artistic sensuality rather than overt sexuality.

The demonstration draws to a close with Matthew advising on ways to remove the wax, though I can’t help thinking that would be a pity. Melanie’s adorned body looks quite breath-taking.

I enjoy my evening at Fairlawns. I drive home again after three hours, much enlightened, intrigued, encouraged, and vowing to be back again the following weekend. And every weekend, until Ewan returns.

The first time I’m offered a spanking I refuse. I’m polite, but firm. Despite my rampant and as yet unassuaged libido, I tell myself I have no desire to actually indulge. I’m just—interested.

The next time such an offer comes my way I accept. The dom who approaches me in the playroom is friendly, pleasant. His smile is warm and my answering smile comes naturally. He stands next to me for a couple of minutes as we both watch a dom administer an erotic spanking. The submissive’s bare bottom is already a deep shade of pink, and she’s just starting to emit small yelps of pain with each swat.

“He’s good. And she’s loving that. So far.” His voice is low, perfectly modulated to calm rather than unnerve me.

“Er, yes. I suppose so.”

“You suppose?”

“No, no of course not. She
is
loving it.”

“Would
you
love it, Miss…?”

“Charity. My name is Charity and… yes, I think I might.” I intended to tell him no. I intended to thank him for his kind offer, but to turn it down. I have no idea where ‘yes’ came from, but having said it, I am not turning back.

“I think so too. Shall we?” He introduces himself as David and gestures towards a spare spanking bench a few feet away. I walk over to it, then turn to him. I have absolutely no idea what to do next.

“First time?” He hitches one hip on the edge of the bench, his arms folded across his chest.

Embarrassed, I nod. “Is that all right? I mean, I’ll understand if you prefer…”

“It’s fine, Charity. A nice, gentle introduction, then. Would you like that?”

“Yes, please.”

“Strictly speaking, that’s ‘yes, please, sir,’ but we’ll skip the niceties for now. All you need to do is lean across the bench and make yourself comfortable.”

“Right. Okay. Sir?”

“You’re a fast learner, Charity. I’m impressed. So, would you like to keep your knickers on for this?”

“Yes, I would really. If that’s okay, sir.”

“It’s fine. You know the house safe words I expect?”

“Yes. Red to stop, amber to go slower, green for all’s well.”

“That’s right, but this is your first time so we’ll start low key, and I’ll just continue until you ask me to stop. You just tell me when you’ve had enough.”

The spanking is glorious. He uses a paddle, I think. He starts soft, and increases the intensity after about six slaps. By the ninth swat I’m letting out small cries of pain, but I don’t want this to end quite yet.

“You okay, Charity?” David pauses, waits for my response.

“Yes, sir. Green.”

“Good girl. Let me know when that changes.”

I count twelve strokes, then I know I’ve reached my limit. For now.

“Sir, would you stop now, please?”

The spanking ceases, and David helps me to stand upright again. I let my short skirt drop back down to more or less cover my smarting bum.

“Thank you, sir. That was… very nice.”

“It was my absolute pleasure, Charity. We must do it again some time.”

“I’d like that.” And it’s true. I would.

* * *

I’ve become a regular at the club and I see David there fairly often. We’ve played together a few times since then, nothing especially heavy, and no sex. Which is a pity, and somewhat difficult to explain even to myself given the urges that brought me here. But I don’t really fancy him and he’s not pushing me to do more, so I don’t suppose it’s going to happen.

I don’t visit the club for several weeks whilst Ewan is at home again. Instead we drift back into our familiar routine of eating together, watching television, occasional shopping trips. Our friendship has solidified, and as the anniversary of Ed and Caroline’s death draws near, we seem to edge closer together. On the actual day, by unspoken but common consent we return to that spot on the road where the bike crashed. Ewan drives, as he did that day. We park and just sit there, together, each of us remembering.

I cry a bit, but it’s not the wracking, soul-deep shock and grief I felt at first. Now it’s more a genuine sorrow for lives wasted, for two young people who would be forever caught fast in that awful moment, whilst the rest of their world moves on without them.

Ed is a memory. Caroline too. Ewan is real, here and now. He has a future, as do I.

We drive back to Oakworth in near silence, each of us lost in our thoughts. As we pull up in Ewan’s driveway, I turn to him.

“Ask me again.”

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me again if I want you to fuck me. Please.”

He lifts one eyebrow. “Do you want me to fuck you, Faith?”

I tilt my chin up. “Yes.”

“Yes, but…?”

“No buts. Just yes.”

“No ghost of Ed lurking under the bed?”

“We’ll use your bedroom. But no, no ghosts. Just memories.”

“Memories are good. We can live with memories.” He lifts his hand to cup my cheek, his thumb stroking my chin. “I’ve thought about doing this for a long time.”

“What, fucking me?”

“Well, yes, obviously. But this too.” He leans across to trail his lips over mine, a gentle, undemanding kiss, but one that promises much more. Soon. Very soon.

I lean towards him, opening my mouth to allow his tongue to slip inside. He’s slow, exploring, tasting. His tongue twists around mine, I suck on it, eager now to deepen the connection. I’ve waited for this, waited so long. I’ve made him wait too. He’s been patient while I’ve been inching my way closer and closer.

“Can we go inside? Now?” I murmur the plea against his lips, my fingers weaving through his hair.

Ewan breaks the kiss. His grin is wicked as he opens his car door. “Come on. Race you to the bedroom.”

We get as far as the hallway before he grabs me and wrestles the pair of us to the floor. I’m on my back and he’s kissing me again, this time his tongue plunging deep into my mouth, hot, demanding. Insistent. His lips are cool and soft, his tongue rasping, the roughness of the surface rubbing the insides of my cheeks, the backs of my teeth. My stomach is doing somersaults, my pussy spasming. My knickers are drenched and any moment now he’ll discover that fact.

Do I care? Maybe, but nowhere near enough to make any difference now.

His erection is nudging my stomach. I search for it with my hand, rubbing the hard length through his jeans.

“Fuck, Faith, do that some more. Please.”

I grasp his cock, working the heel of my hand across the head. It leaps under my touch, straining against the zip of his Levis. I unbuckle his belt and release the button before drawing the zipper down. Ewan groans as I shove the denim aside to free his cock, then take it in my hand. I curl my fingers around it like a fist and pump the shaft, slowly at first, then harder as he lets out a breathy curse. His dick is large, hard, a solid weight in my hand. I’m determined not to make comparisons, but even so, Ewan doesn’t come up short.

I wriggle from under him to prop myself up on one elbow, my other hand continuing to work his cock. The head is wider and a slightly darker colour, more purple than deep pink. Droplets of clear liquid are already dribbling from the slit in the end, and I smear them across the smooth surface with the pad of my thumb. Ewan groans again and flops onto his back, his arm across his face. I take that as an encouraging sign that I’m not hopelessly out of practice and increase the tempo of my strokes.

“Christ, that’s fucking wonderful. Stop now, though.”

“Stop? Why stop?”

“I want to fuck you, not come all over your hand. Maybe later…”

“Ah.”

“Ah. Right now, I want you under me, naked, screaming my name.”

“I see.”

He shifts his arm to fix me with a hard glare. “I don’t think you do. If you did see, you’d be scrambling up the stairs now flinging your clothes in every direction.”

“Like this?” I release his cock, with a degree of reluctance I admit, and stand up. I pull my T shirt over my head and drop it on his face before reaching behind me to unhook my bra.

“You’ve got the idea.” He tosses my T shirt aside and sits up to drag his own over his head. Then he reaches for his jeans and shoves them down. I take that as my cue to start the scrambling he mentioned. I head for the stairs, loosening the button on my skirt as I go. By the time I reach the top I’m only wearing my knickers. I hook my thumbs into the waistband and would lose them too but I’m grabbed from behind and lifted from the floor. Ewan carries me along the landing to his bedroom and marches inside with me in his arms. He drops me on the bed and throws himself down next to me.

“Now lose the pants and spread your legs.”

“What? No foreplay?”

He grins. “Some say it’s over-rated, but since you seem so keen…” He rolls on top of me, then slithers down the bed until his chin is level with my stomach. He dips his tongue into my navel, swirling it around. It tickles and I arch under him.

“Keep still.”

“Or else what? Will you tie me up?” Oh. My. God. It’s one thing saying that to Ed, quite another when I’m about to be fucked by an experienced, accomplished dom who probably ties women to his bed as a matter of course.

Ewan eyes me, from somewhere down by my lower belly now. “Not on this occasion. But soon.”

I shake my head. “I’m not Caroline. I can’t replace her. Don’t ask me to—please.”

“You’re nothing at all like Carrie, and I thank God for that. You’re all your own woman, the woman I need right now. The woman I’ve waited for. Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want.”

I smile and reach to stroke his cheek. As I watch, he lowers his gaze to study my pussy, all open and spread out before him as I lie with my thighs wide apart.

“Smooth. I like that. Not what I expected though.”

I’ve noticed on my visits to Sheffield that without exception the submissives either shave or wax their pubic hair, or occasionally have it trimmed to just a narrow strip in the centre. I’ve gone for the all-over Brazilian look. I’m pleased now that I did; Ewan’s approval is important to me.

“I’m glad you like it. I… Aagh.” Whatever I might have been about to say is lost in my strangled moan as he flicks the tip of my clit with his tongue, then proceeds to circle it with slow, firm strokes. I grab his hair, sinking my fingers in as though to hold his head against me.

He uses his thumbs to part the lips of my pussy then darts his tongue between. His thrusts are sharp and rapid, the tip of his tongue entering me as he caresses my clit with his fingertip. I moan, the pleasure building fast. In seconds I’m at that plateau stage where matters could easily go either way, but where the longer I stay the greater the sense of anticipation, and the stronger the eventual orgasm.

Ewan seems to be perfectly attuned to my responses, stoking my arousal but keeping me just short of my climax. I gasp, lifting my hips as I seek the friction that would tumble me across the point of no return. Ewan places his palms on the backs of my thighs and pushes them apart and up towards my chest, opening me more fully to him. He shifts slightly, stops tongue-fucking me and instead takes my swollen clit between his lips.

He grazes it with his teeth, the sensation both threatening and incredibility tender. He could hurt me, really hurt me, but I know down to my toenails that I am safe.

He increases the pressure, firming his lips around my throbbing clit as he sucks on it. Hard. At the same time he slides two long fingers into my cunt, and I lose it. My pussy convulses, I let out a squeal of pure pleasure as my climax seizes me, rippling fast and hard through my nervous system. My body is shuddering, my muscles tense as he finger-fucks me. He maintains the suction against my clit, the quivering peak of nerve endings pulsing as my head does cartwheels.

Long moments later, it’s over. My muscles relax, my mind regains some hold on reality, I’m again conscious of the bed beneath me, the weight of Ewan’s upper body against my legs as he lifts his head to regard me with a dry smile.

“Your pussy feels tight. It’s been a year, yes?”

“A year. Of course, you know that.” It’s the anniversary of Ed’s death, I’ve never been more conscious of the length of time which has elapsed.

“I thought so, but I didn’t know, not for sure. I’m the first since Ed, then.”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad. You still up for this?”

“Of course. Yes. Yes, I am.”

He eases up my body until his hips are between my thighs, the head of his swollen cock at the entrance to my pussy. He leans to one side and reaches past me to the drawer beside his bed. He extracts a condom and snaps open the foil, sheathing himself one-handed. He takes his weight on his elbows and lowers his forehead to rest on mine.

“We’ll take this slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Not slow. Fast. I want it hard. I want to feel this, really feel it. I want to feel it for days.”

He nudges forward, the head of his cock is now hovering just inside my entrance. “Are you a screamer? We wouldn’t want to alarm the neighbours.”

“Fuck the neighbours.” I grind out my words, desperate now to have him inside me. I crave the fullness, the connection.

“Good idea.” On that he drives forward and buries the length of his cock in my pussy.

I let out a moan, part pain, part pleasure. He’s big, I’m stretched, impossibly tight. My fingers grip his shoulders as he holds still for a few precious moments. My body reshapes around him, adjusting to this invasion.