His House of Submission (10 page)

The spanking stopped abruptly, Jasper appearing to need a moment or two to recover from his tantalising tale.

I thought about his ex-lovers. Were there many? Did they satisfy him better than I could? The sting of this thought exceeded anything my bottom might endure, though my bottom was admittedly red hot by now and I was ready for a lull.

‘Well,' he said, tapping at my sore cheeks. ‘Maybe another time. Would you consider it?'

‘I might,' I said, feeling that some stakes had been raised and staying in the game mattered more than anything.

‘Brave girl,' he said. ‘You're very, very red. It doesn't take much with you. I suppose because you're new to all this. Did you learn your lesson?'

‘Yes, Sir.'

‘That was a punishment, pure and simple. But I can make it a lot more pleasurable than that. I'll show you, maybe tonight.'

‘Tonight?' I gritted my teeth at the thought of another spanking, so soon.

He stroked my tender skin.

‘This won't last long,' he said, somewhat regretfully. ‘You'll have forgotten it happened by tonight.'

I rather thought not, but didn't think contradicting him would be wise.

‘Of course, the lotion makes it worse. Perhaps I should put some more on now. I seem to have spanked it all off.'

I lay over his lap while he rubbed still more lotion, blissfully cool and soothing, into my punished posterior.

‘How's that?' he whispered.

I could tell how it was for him. A substantial bulge had been growing and hardening under my stomach throughout the spanking, and now it seemed to have reached critical mass.

‘Very good, Sir,' I replied. ‘So good. Oh, God.'

‘As good as that?' His fingers skirted the edges of my sex, so near and yet so far. I whimpered and jiggled my hips. ‘Do you know, I've known girls who could come just from being spanked. Isn't that amazing? Or the idea of it. Didn't even need to touch them.'

I was beginning to tire of his tales of super-duper submissives, to be honest. Why hold up these impossible paragons that I could never hope to emulate? It was irritating.

‘Bully for them,' I snarked.

His massaging fingers stopped their work.

‘Talk to me,' he said commandingly.

‘I … what? About what?'

‘What's upsetting you? You'll find that honesty is the cornerstone of a D/s relationship, my love. I won't put up with passive-aggressive nonsense, or bottled up emotions. Everything has to be out in the open, or the whole dynamic gets hopelessly corrupted.'

‘It's nothing.'

He smacked my bum so hard and so unexpectedly that I kicked the picnic basket over.

‘Don't lie,' he hissed. ‘Now come on. Out with it.'

‘Just … you've had lots of experience and I've got none. And I feel like sometimes you might be goading me … a bit.'

‘By telling you about other lovers I've had?'

‘By telling me how bloody brilliantly submissive and sexy they were. Compared to me.'

‘Oh, but I'm not comparing them to you at all. That's not what I'm doing. I'm just telling you what's possible, giving you a bit of insight into the BDSM world. I don't give a flying fuck whether you do any of those things or not.'

‘Really?'

‘Really. You have to find your own way. I'm here to help you with that. I'd like it if your way was my way, but it's much too early to tell on that front. We might be perfectly suited, we might not. You might want certain things I can't give you – who knows what's going to happen? This is a journey with no fixed destination.'

‘You don't wish I was one of your superfreak exes?'

‘Christ, no. You're you, and I like you. Essentially, you can take a good spanking and you're happy to be fucked morning, noon and night, so you'll do very well for me.'

‘Mr Romantic.'

He laughed.

‘I think it's romantic.'

‘You're not normal.'

‘No, but neither are you, my love. That's why we're here like this today, with you arse-up over my lap in the open air and me trying to work out how I can stop you spouting insecure angst for long enough to shag you senseless.'

My pussy tightened, longing for his touch. ‘Oh, I hate you,' I moaned.

‘But you want me,' he whispered, granting the lightest of touches to my clit. ‘Don't you?'

I nodded, unable to escape the fact.

‘I love that this is all new to you,' he said. ‘But it's a little scary for me too.'

He pushed his fingers in further and I melted into a puddle of lust.

‘Uh?' was all I could say.

‘Being your first dominant lover. What if I put a foot wrong and taint the experience for you? I don't want to do that. So you have to tell me, you understand? You have to tell me the minute something feels wrong. You promise you'll do that?'

‘I promise. Oh.'

His fingers slipped inside me, testing my readiness.

‘I guess this isn't feeling wrong, though,' he said. ‘Judging by how wet you are. Punishment turns you on, I see. I'll make it harder next time.'

He pulled out his fingers and displaced me from his lap.

‘OK, kitten,' he said. ‘On all fours now.'

A light breeze blew over me, making my nipples throb, as I positioned myself according to his requirements. I was facing the lake, and I pushed out my rear, imagining Will's eyes upon it, watching from the trees. He would know what was about to happen to me. He would see Jasper, getting the condom out of his jacket pocket, then unbuckling his belt, lowering his trousers, all the things he was doing that I could only hear and infer.

He would see Jasper's erect cock, see the condom going on, see my thighs spread wide and ready, see my scarlet bottom cheeks thrust out so Jasper could admire his handiwork while he rode me.

My lover's hands took my hips, then the rounded, wide head of his cock pushed at my cunt.

‘I'm going to make you feel this,' he said. ‘It's going deep.'

He screwed it into me, and he was right. He seemed to plumb depths previously unreached, stretching me to my limit.

Every thrust made me release a small moan, as if I was surprised, but I was not. It was simply that I had to do it, had to express some reaction to the intensity of the experience, had to make him know the effect he had on me.

The angle of penetration caused each forward sweep to glance upon my G-spot and the tight knot in my lower stomach soon began to unravel, gathering momentum with each hard impalement, each whispered obscenity, each grab of breast or bite of shoulder.

It was almost too late when I remembered I was supposed to ask permission for my orgasm.

‘Are you feeling it?' Jasper's voice was hot and evil in my ear.

‘God, yes, I'm going to … may I …?'

‘Come.'

Oh, thank God. I fell forward, but he held me up, one hand on my shoulder, another around my waist, supporting me through the showers of stars and sparks. As it hit me, I remembered my manners and I howled, ‘Thank you, Sir,' over and over again.

This pleased him; I could tell by the way he began slamming into me, whispering things I could barely make out, pinching his fingers down hard on my shoulder and then roaring over the lake, sending the waterfowl into another flapping panic.

We fell forward in a tangled crush of bodies. His weight pinned me to the rug and I felt his breath, rushes of heat on the back of my neck that grew longer and lighter over time.

‘You must be starving,' he said eventually, rising slowly to his knees and reaching for the picnic basket. ‘I know I am.'

He pulled out a bottle of champagne and got to work on the cork.

I wasn't sure I could move, so I stayed prone, resting my head on my hands, trying to work out if my bottom was still sore. I couldn't really tell. It seemed he was right about it fading fast.

‘You look wrecked,' commented Jasper.

The cork popped.

‘I am wrecked,' I said.

‘After one go? That's no good. You need to get into training, my dear. Build up your stamina. Perhaps you should come running with me.'

Ugh. No thanks.

‘I always hated PE at school,' I said. ‘Nobody ever picked me because I was so weedy and badly co-ordinated. Terrible ball skills.'

‘I wouldn't say that.' He grinned cheesily. ‘I'm sure we can sort something out. Turn over, on to your back. Go on.'

I braved my protesting muscles and rolled myself over. Before I could sit up or register what was happening, Jasper had splashed champagne all over my breasts. I squealed and flapped my hands, but I was too late, for he had bent over me to lick it up. I had no idea how it would taste mixed with sun lotion – presumably not very nice, because he was grimacing when he raised his head again.

‘Forgot about the lotion,' he said, wiping his mouth with his hand. ‘I need something to take the taste away now.'

I laughed and laughed as he scrabbled through the picnic box looking for something to alleviate his flavour-related distress. He was habitually so cool and suave, it was really cheering to see him at a disadvantage for once.

‘Are you laughing at me, Sarah?' He took a large bite of a pork pie.

I shook my head overdramatically.

‘I would never laugh at you,' I lied.

He smacked at my thigh, just hard enough to get my attention and turn my laugh into a squeak.

‘That's not true, is it? I thought we talked about honesty.'

‘OK. I was laughing at you. It was funny, though.'

‘I'll let you off this once.' He passed me the basket. ‘Come on, get some meat in you.' He winked salaciously.

‘You should direct a
Carry On
film,' I said, sitting up. ‘And write the script. You seem to have all the innuendoes covered.'

‘You know, I like that idea.' He took another bite of his pie and looked out to the lake, eyes narrowed. ‘Bit of a departure from my normal style but I think it could work.
Carry On Boffing
.'

I snorted. ‘
Carry On Thrashing
.'

‘
Carry On
meets
Fifty Shades of Grey
.'

‘Oh God. Have you read it?'

‘Read it? She wrote it about me, didn't she? I'm a mysterious billionaire. Well, I'm not a billionaire, to be honest, but that was just a bit of artistic licence. She meant me really.'

‘You …' Perhaps I shouldn't call him a knob. Might be construed as disrespectful. I still struggled with his switches in tone, from dominant to playful in the blink of an eye.

‘Don't you believe me?'

‘You don't have a helipad on the roof,' I pointed out.

‘Ah. Busted.'

‘Do you have the dark, tormented past, though?'

‘Yeah, I do, as it happens.' He paused and gave me a troubled look. My fingers tightened around my sausage roll. ‘I once played a junior houseman in
Broken Heart Surgery
. Don't you remember?'

I burst out laughing and threw my sausage roll at him.

‘Oh, why did you have to do that, my bad little kitten, oh, why?' He crawled towards me, his eyes gleaming, ready to pounce. I leaped to my feet and ran towards the lake, still laughing, squealing every now and then when I looked back to find him that little bit closer.

He lifted me clear of the ground and flung me over his shoulder. He was still naked from the waist down and he waded into the lake with me while I yelped and tried to catch my breath, boundlessly exhilarated.

‘Don't throw me in,' I pleaded.

‘Is that an order?' he asked, wheeling around so I nearly slid off his shoulder and had to clutch at his shirt collar. ‘I don't take kindly to those.'

My only reply was a scream. I was sure I was about to fall.

‘What's the matter? The water's lovely,' he teased.

‘It's full of weeds,' I gasped.

‘What are weeds going to do to you? Wrap themselves around you and tie you up? Actually … I like that image. Maybe I'll get a big handful of weeds and bind you tight with them. Bindweed.'

‘They're slimy. No! Don't drop me!'

Too late. He bent forward and tipped me off him so I fell back into the shallow, muddy water with a splash and a spluttery yelp. At least I managed to soak his shirt, which gave me a small element of satisfaction.

‘Right,' he said. ‘I'll give you a head start. I'll count to twenty. You have to get as far away from me as you can.'

I answered as best I could with my nose full of water.

I said, ‘Nnrught,' and I began wading towards the shore, cursing the water's weight against my thighs, wanting to take off into the air.

I heard his counting, calm and slow, and it made me rush so that I stumbled and lost time. I grabbed at the rushes, but they slid through my hands, and then one of them cut me. All I could do was rely on my feet, squelching through the sucking mud.

I was at the shore by the time he reached twenty, and then I realised I'd done it all wrong. I would never be able to beat him on land. The water was my only chance.

I began to skirt the edge of the lake, but he was on his way over, smiling in premature victory.

‘Run, little rabbit, run,' he goaded, reaching out for me.

I tried, scooping up handfuls of water and splashing them towards him, but they all fell short of his advancing figure. He was going to get me. I might as well accept it.

And besides … I wanted him to.

But he mustn't know it. It wouldn't be so much fun if he knew it.

Soon enough, he was close enough to reach out for me. We twisted and flailed in a complicated waterlogged ballet, him lunging, me ducking, until an overhead bramble caught his hair and held him back for valuable seconds.

Making good my advantage, I scrambled through the reeds and up to the shore, where I hid on the far side of the thicket that had slowed him down. A weeping willow hung over the bank and I snapped off a wand of it, thinking that a weapon might come in handy.