“Red.” Her voice was breathy, but still strong, still sure.
Zack’s palm dropped once more to her body, but this time he was gentle, lightly tracing her tingling, smarting skin with his fingertips.
“Can you stand?”
“I don’t think so. Not yet. A few moments, please…”
“That’s fine, take your time.” He was carefully untying her wrists, and in seconds her hands were free. Zack pulled them around to rest on the table top, rubbing her wrists to ease the stiffness. Imogen tried to push herself up, but hadn’t the strength yet in her arms.
Lifting her gently by the shoulders, Zack eased her into a standing position.
“Lean back, I have you.” His mouth was close to her ear, his breath tickling her lobe as he murmured reassuring words. She gripped his biceps and allowed her weight to settle against him. The blindfold was still in place, and she lifted her hands intending to remove it.
“No, these first.” Zack cupped and caressed her breasts with his palms, and Imogen gasped in pain as the full impact of the improvised clamps reverberated through her strung out system.
“Please, take them off. I can’t…”
“Hold still.”
He removed both simultaneously, and Imogen shrieked as the blood rushed once more into her flattened, stretched nipples. His hands covered her breasts and he rubbed vigorously to restore circulation quickly. Even so, the pain was blinding for the first few seconds, and Imogen would have crumpled to the floor but for his arms around her. A few moments later, when she’d stopped shaking, he tugged the blindfold over her head. Then he scooped her up into his arms fully and headed for the door.
“Your room? Or mine?”
Imogen thought for a moment, then, “Mine, please.” She wanted him in her most private, inner sanctum. She wanted, later, after he’d gone, to be able to remember him there. He headed straight up the stairs and along the landing then stopped at her bedroom door. Imogen reached for the door handle to open it, and he carried her inside. She wondered how he knew which her room was, but decided to leave that question for another time as he dropped her onto her bed. Her bottom erupted in flames again in protest, and she rolled to her side aware that if she went onto her stomach her nipples would suffer.
Zack just grinned at her, well aware of how sore she was, and where. “Well, Gennie, a four-poster bed. You kept this little gem quiet. Four posters make excellent whipping frames, plenty of places to tie a sub to. Maybe we’ll have time for that tomorrow…”
Imogen could only stare at him, her body already starting to clench in anticipation. Christ, what a glutton for punishment she really must be. She couldn’t recall feeling this—enthusiastic—even when Sean had been alive. She had no time to contemplate that latest curiosity, however, before Zack instructed her to kneel on the bed, on all fours, her bottom turned towards him. Imogen complied and was rewarded by a long, slow stroke of his flattened palm across the entire length of her pussy from clit to arse. He curled his fingers to trail them through her creamy wet folds, gathering her moisture on his hand.
“Yes, nice and wet. We need more, though.”
Imogen gasped gratefully as three fingers plunged deep into her slick channel, which tightened around him. He withdrew only to thrust again, finger-fucking her hard for a few seconds. He pulled his fingers from her, only to run them along her cleft to her waiting anus. He worked one finger quickly inside, ignoring Imogen’s sharp hiss of protest at the indignity.
“With a bit more practice, you won’t need extra lube. This time though…wait there. Do. Not. Move.”
Her bedroom door clicked as he left her, alone, crouched on her bed.
He was gone less than a minute. His footsteps were on the landing, then the door opened. Moments later, his slick hands were on her again. In her. She caught a quick whiff of baby oil, obviously borrowed from her guest bathroom, as he used his left hand to finger-fuck her pussy. Three solid, long digits as before, while he used his right to penetrate her arse. He wasn’t rough, but he was quick. And determined. And very thorough. He probed her rear channel as he had earlier, and slipped one fingertip harmlessly through the tightly curled muscle. Then, moments later, he plunged forward, easing the whole digit fully into her. Imogen gasped, and relaxed instantly as the sensations from her pussy were intensified by the additional, forbidden pressure from behind. He knew where to aim for, just exactly how to caress her inner softness to find just the right place, just that exquisite spot to rub and tease. His single finger in her arse was quickly joined by another, and his strokes there matched those in her pussy. Imogen’s arms gave way, and she fell forward, her bottom lifting even farther in silent offering. Christ, this was good, so bloody good. Never better, not ever…
She came. Quick, powerful, convulsive, all her muscles spasming around the digits buried deep inside her. Zack chuckled in approval, continuing the momentum until she quietened again. Then he withdrew from her pussy and turned his attention to her quivering, thus far neglected clit. “Now we’ll try it this way. Come for me again, Gennie. Quickly.”
As though responding to his gentle command, she felt the familiar lurch and twist in her core as her body readied itself again to fly. Surely not so soon? Yes, indeed so soon. Within seconds she was spinning again, soaring and drifting as Zack played, skilfully thrumming and caressing her responsive clit. As she approached the point of no return, he took her swollen bud within the circle of his clustered fingertips and gently squeezed as he pulled, all the while using his other hand to thrust smoothly in and out of her now totally accepting rear channel. The effect was instantaneous—she absolutely erupted in his hands, stiffening and holding her body rigid for several seconds before her scream of ecstatic delight was ripped from her throat. Then she was thrusting her hips madly, blindly, desperately searching—and finding, as Zack matched her urgent demands, providing everything she needed and more as her orgasm scattered her senses once more.
In the hazy post-orgasmic fog, she was dimly aware of the bed beneath her knees, and her suddenly deserted arse and clit. She moaned, whether in protest or relief she was uncertain, and heard the rip and snap of the condom foil.
Zack was careful, positioning her slowly. He placed his hands on her hips, lifted and turned her before he gently parted her buttocks again and placed the thick head of his cock at her rear entrance. He pressed forward, and Imogen felt the already slack sphincter give to admit him. The fog of orgasm finally cleared, and she expected to feel rather more apprehensive than she apparently did. Still, it had been a weekend of distinctly unusual occurrences, and this was just one more. She lifted her bottom up, and willed her muscles to relax. They did, and when Zack pressed again, he slid easily in the next couple of inches. Imogen stretched, her body straining to accept. He waited, gave her the time she needed then pressed again. This time his cock slid right in, to the hilt. Imogen cried out, softly, a sound of delight rather than pain. This sudden fullness was not yet quite comfortable. She felt—stuffed, over-full and deliciously violated. The sense of the forbidden, the wicked, the slightly dirty and definitely naughty, was liberating. She smiled, wriggled her bum as her body softened and relaxed. Zack caressed her buttocks, holding still. She instinctively knew he was waiting for her signal that all was well.
She gave it in the form of a playful squeeze, tightening her muscles around him, and was astonished to find she could. She already felt to be pulled as tight as her body could go, but still she’d found more. Incredible.
Zack withdrew, right back to the very tip then slowly but powerfully filled her again. And again. His thrusts were long and slow and easy. He was acutely conscious that this was a first for her. He didn’t want it to be a last. He was careful not to frighten her or hurt her. She might find anal sex uncomfortable at first. Many subs did. Or strange, or even downright vulgar. He could live with any of that. But even if she had come to it rather late in her submissive career, he had no intention of leaving her determined never to venture this way again. As Imogen’s muffled sighs became moans, and grew into mewling cries of need, he knew he’d achieved his objective. Christ, she was tight. Tight and hot and gripping his dick as though she never wanted to let him go.
Ramping up the pace, Zack fucked her harder, relentlessly, careful to keep his strokes long and even, the motion smooth. The friction was exquisite, and he knew she loved it too by the way her fingers dug into the duvet, grasping and opening in time with his thrusts. Her bottom lifted, her knees spread wide as she offered him access to all of her. Deciding to take her up on her silent offer, Zack reached for her, pulled her body upright, her back against his chest as she sat on his lap, her arse snugly impaled on his thick, hard cock.
Glancing around the room, Zack spotted the full-length mirror on her wardrobe door and shifted them so they faced it. He nudged his knees between Imogen’s and spread her wider, watching in the mirror as her head dropped back to rest against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly apart.
“Open your eyes, Gennie. Look at you.”
She obeyed, totally at one with his softly whispered commands, and saw her body displayed, reflected in the mirror. As she watched, Zack reached around her to lay his palms softly on her breasts, parting his fingers to allow her still-tender nipples to poke between. He drew his hands possessively down her torso, pausing to tease her belly button with his left hand. He slid his right hand down into her pubic hair and held her in position as he purposely extended his middle finger, laying it firmly over her swollen clit, clearly visible in the mirror. Imogen’s eyes widened. Zack rubbed. Imogen whimpered her delight then cried out as she was once more plummeted into the frenzy of orgasm.
When she would have closed her eyes Zack commanded her to open them. “Watch. Watch me. I want to see you unravel.”
She raised her eyes, caught his deep blue in the mirror, and he held her there as her body convulsed around him. Only when her shudders and sighs had finally ceased did he allow her to fall forward to the bed for his final onslaught. Two more hard, smooth thrusts, a third, and he stiffened, held himself still as his balls tightened and drew up. Then with a muffled, “Fuck, Gennie…” he delivered two final piston-like strokes as his semen erupted into the condom.
* * * *
Imogen couldn’t sleep. By two-thirty she’d been tossing and turning for a couple of hours, her body painfully, acutely aware of her Dom asleep down the hallway. Why hadn’t she invited him to sleep with her? He would have, surely. They’d had an incredibly pleasant evening at the pub in Bainbridge, listening to nineties pop music on the old-fashioned jukebox. MP3 might arrive in the Dales eventually, but the old ways still die hard. Why, then, had they strolled back along the mile or so of country lane to her cottage and parted on the landing to go into their separate rooms? Why hadn’t he suggested it? Christ, he’d not been exactly reticent in any other respect.
Not sure what she had in mind, Imogen got out of bed and padded across the room to the door. She didn’t bother to reach for her faithful kimono, just hurried along the landing in her loose pyjama bottoms and skinny vest. Without waiting to consider, she opened the door to her guest room and slipped inside. Then she stopped, wondered what the hell she was doing here, sneaking into a guest’s room in the middle of the night.
Apparently, he wondered, too.
“Did you get lost? Bathroom’s next door along.” His tone was dry, sardonic, and he rolled over onto his back to look at her in the dim moonlight. Imogen noticed that his chest was gloriously bare, and wondered about the rest. He was covered from the waist down by the duvet. As she pondered these mysteries, he reached out and flicked the switch on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room. Wordlessly he shuffled along to make room for her and patted the empty space in invitation.
“Join me. But lose the PJs.”
Needing no more urging, Imogen peeled off her top and pants then slipped naked into his bed. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in, her back against his chest. His semi-hard cock nudged her bottom. She snuggled against it and promptly fell asleep.
* * * *
Sunday morning, Imogen woke, stretched, peeled her eyelids back and for one confused moment wondered what the hell she was doing in her best guest bedroom. Then her best guest stirred alongside her, and she remembered. Remembered vividly how he’d spanked her, clamped her nipples—which were still slightly sore, she noted—and gone on to fuck her virgin arse.
Christ, what a weekend. What a gloriously awesome weekend.
And it wasn’t even over yet.
Lifting the duvet to peek beneath, she was delighted to see he was already semi-erect, and she silently thanked any deity who might still be listening to her for that convenient morning hard-on. What an excellent quirk of Creation. And not to be wasted. Kneeling alongside her sleeping prey, Imogen took the time to admire his cock. He was truly beautiful. Everywhere, but particularly here. She trailed her fingers along the length of his shaft, enjoying the veined contours, loving the silky softness and the hardening strength beneath. She ran her fingertips along the crease below the wide, flaring head, and was rewarded by a slight twitch. Then another, not so slight, and she glanced up. His eyes remained closed, but he was clearly responding. As his cock hardened and swelled before her eyes, Imogen leaned in, drew the tip of her tongue over the seeping slit. The pre-cum already starting to flow tasted salty, and she licked her lips before opening her mouth wider and taking just the head inside. She lapped her tongue around it, collecting more of that salty juice she loved. Zack surged to full size and stiffness, and she knew he was awake.
Sure enough, “Fuck, Gennie, is this what Dales hospitality means by bed and breakfast? Does the Tourist Board know?”
Imogen lifted her head, turned to grin at him. “I’m thinking of adding it to my entry on Yorkshire.com. Would it help trade, do you think?”