Sexy as Hell Box Set (45 page)

I fired off another email and told him to lock his office and wait for my next communication.

Someone knocked on my door. Closing the window on my screen, I quickly bent my head, picked up a pen as though I was busy, and called, “Enter!” Looked up to find Ollie in the doorway with Fifi.

Oh, fuck. What was he doing here? And how was I supposed to email Victor and make him come now?

“I’m here to see if I can be of any service to you, Mistress,” Ollie said, wringing his hands and smiling—well, more of a grimace actually, given the way his swollen cheek distorted his features.

I caught
Fifi’s gaze and sighed.

She shrugged in a you-brought-it-on-yourself kind of way.

Which I suppose I had. I should never have started this thing with Ollie. He had trouble written all over him and not a submissive bone in his body. If he didn’t bear a vague resemblance to Victor and a smugness about him that invited a good beating then I really wouldn’t be wasting my time.

“Sit,” I said to Ollie, pointing my pen at a hard chair in the corner of the room. “Thanks,
Fifi.”

She chomped her gum, blew a big, pink bubble, which popped with a snap, and then left the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Wank,” I said to Ollie.

“What?”

“Wank, will you, it might take some of the desperate need out of your eyes.”

“What…just pull it out and…?” He sat, knees apart, hands curled over them, and stared at me wide-eyed.

“Yes, I’m busy, can’t you see? Just get on with it, you don’t need me to hold your hand.” I nodded towards his denim-clad groin. “Or anything else.”

He glanced at the door.

“Oh, like anyone gives a fuck about you,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “You’re my sub, you look like you need to come, so just do it already.”

He straightened, and I noticed a smidgen of his usual confidence had left his eyes. I’d teach him for showing up unannounced in the middle of the day. Victor would never have done that. I’d done it to him all right, but he wouldn’t have dropped in on me. It just wasn’t gentlemanly.

I turned my computer screen so Ollie wouldn’t be able to see what I was doing, and drew up my mail again.

“Go on,” I said, “what are you waiting for? I know you’ve got a semi, Ollie, you get a semi just being in the same room as me, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“So get your cock out.”

Dear Mr This-Is-Going-to-Have-To-Be-Quick-I’m-Very-Busy,

I glanced up at Ollie. He’d shifted on the straight-backed seat, opened his trousers and was pulling out his meaty cock. It jutted upwards, awkwardly, and he shoved at his jeans and boxers, scraping the wooden legs of the chair on the hard floor as he peeled his clothing down.

He looked at me, fisted his erection and rubbed his thumb over the slit.

“Good boy,” I said with a nod. “Now you just have a little quality alone time in the corner while I get on with my work. I trust you have a handkerchief to catch any mess.”

“I’m not bloody Victor, you know.” As he’d spoken the colour had drained from his face. If it hadn’t been for that fact, I would have gone over and kicked his other cheek, given him a matching black eye and crusting scab.

“I mean,” he said, “I’m sorry, that isn’t what I mean at all. What I wanted to say is I don’t have a handkerchief—what kind of man does these days, except for Victor, that is, but he—”

“Shut the fuck up, will you.” I poked my pen at the air, imagining I was ramming it up his nostril. “From now on you will have a handkerchief, a white one, with you at all times. If I find you without one, you’ll be punished, and it won’t by my boot in your face it will be my boot up your arsehole, without lube, so make sure you go to whatever goddamn shop sells fucking white handkerchiefs and buy yourself a big pile.” I hesitated. “For now, though, take off your sock, that will have to catch your cum. I don’t want it spilling onto my new floor.”

“My sock?”

“I swear to God, Ollie, one more word and you might as well just bend the fuck over and show me your puckered little entrance.” I raised my boot so he could see its sinfully pointy tip nudging round the side of my desk. I tapped it in the air, hard, jabbing movements so he’d get the idea of how I’d shove it up his bum.

He swallowed, nodded, flicked off his shoe then yanked his sock off, revealing his long, pale foot with wisps of dark hair over his big toe.

“Now wank, and keep the noise down while you’re at it.” I returned my attention to the screen and was assured that Ollie was behaving when I heard the friction of skin on skin and a little stutter of his breath.

Having a new business means that I really can’t invest the hours that I did before on your sexual education, Victor, not to mention I have a new student. He’s rather a slow learner and trying my patience, which, as you know, isn’t something I have in abundance either.

“Ollie, what the fuck are you doing?”

He was lazily fisting his cock. He’d slid down on the seat so he was slouched, and his feet were wide apart, his one bare foot flat on the floor, his shoe-wearing foot at an angle, the side of the sole balancing on the shiny wood.

“Watching you, Mistress.”

“Did I say you could?”

“No.” He cast his eyes downwards, stared at his cock.

I sighed. “If you ask nicely I might let you look at me while you play with yourself.” He really was painfully slow at catching onto the rules, though to be fair, I was moving them around a bit. I couldn’t even be bothered to be consistent.

“Please, Mistress, may I look at you as I come?”

“Yes, but look lively, put a bit more energy into it. You really think I’d like a slow, lazy fuck like that?”

“No, Mistress. Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.” He straightened, tipped his chin and picked up the pace.

“That’s better. Now make sure you keep that sock handy.”

He nodded, and I noticed a bloom of colour rising on his unblemished cheek.

But I’m sure he’ll get there eventually, even if it means coating his entire body in vicious bruises in the process—which won’t be hard, he seems to mark ridiculously easy.

So this disastrous blowjob? What you need to do is show her what you want. Remember how I showed you what I wanted? You need to go down on her, lave her clit, suckle into her pussy and really make out that you’re having the time of your life so she learns that energy and enthusiasm is required. Encourage her to play with herself while you’re at it so you get to witness what she likes.

I hesitated, watched Ollie for a minute—he was getting into the moment, his hand movements a blur, his teeth gritted. I licked my lips and studied the domed head of his cock peeking from his fist, wondered if he tasted the same as Victor. Since they wore the same aftershave and shared the same gene pool it was a possibility.

And she needs to learn a sense of adventure, Victor, so combine the two. Take her to that posh West End show you were going to take me to and do it to her there, in the dark, at the back, so no one can see. That should tell you if she has a beast for risk inside her or not.

That was a ridiculous suggestion, and one he wouldn’t be able to carry out, which is why I’d felt better writing it. I didn’t want to say cook her a nice meal, wow her with your apartment and your smile and then seduce her in front of your fire. Those words would have generated nausea in my guts, twisted the strings in my chest until my heart squeezed painfully. No, I had to give him some impossible task, that way she’d fail and he could move on and find someone suitable in and out of the bedroom. It was for his own good. I only wanted the best for Victor.

Now why don’t you have a little pre-performance
wank, Victor, and tell me how that suggestion sounds?

I hit SEND without saying goodbye, because it wasn’t, I knew he’d reply.

Nibbling the end of my pen, I studied Ollie.

He was rocking slightly and pushed his hair from his face with his free hand.

“Feeling good?” I asked.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You ever
wanked in front of someone before?”

“No, Mistress.”

“You prefer to be fucking.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He was breathless.

“But I won’t let you fuck me, that’s not what we’re doing here, is it?”

“No, but…”

“But what?”

“But I would still like to fuck you.”

“I know.”

A tiny ping told me I had mail.

“Keep at it, come whenever you feel the need.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Your suggestion sounds intriguing and I will certainly consider it. Though I was thinking of tying her to the bed…

Consider it? What was he on about, consider it? He couldn’t lick her out during a West End show, that was ridiculous. Bloody hell, Victor had really lost the plot.

Yes, do consider it, and as for tying her to the bed I think that is a great idea. The best, in fact.

I paused, wondering how to continue. Ollie had sped up, hunched over. A sheen of sweat had made his brow glisten, and his hair was flopped messily forward. He wasn’t bothering to push it out of the way anymore.

Just don’t forget to try out anal sex on her. All women love it, even if they say they don’t. It’s just a case of them getting used to it and realising how much men enjoy it. Once you’ve broken her in, you’ll be off, like you were with me. Just be firm about it and stick to what you need in your heart of hearts.

And are you wanking right now?

I quickly sent the email.

“Oh, fuck…” Ollie moaned and hissed in a breath. “Mistress, show me your tits, please. Just a quick glimpse, I beg you.”

“Shut up.”

Yes.

Yes, what? Yes he was going to give Catherine the surprise of her life by fastening her to his bed and shoving things up her bum? That should scare her to the other side of the horizon. Or yes, he was tossing himself off while we emailed one another?

Yes, what?

Pause.

Yes, I’ve got my dick in my hand and I’m thinking of you.

A well of satisfaction grew inside me. Victor was masturbating and thinking of me. I shut my eyes, listened to Ollie’s frantic breaths and imagined it was Victor in the corner of my office. Only then I wouldn’t be sitting here, wishing he’d get on with it. If it was Victor I’d be there helping him along, paddling his arse or tempting him with a plug. Perhaps I’d let him Master me and ride into my mouth the way he was wishing Catherine had let him the other night. He was a hair holder, my Victor, he liked to grip it in his fists, let the strands knot between his fingers, squeeze so tight it hurt my scalp.

Good, now you better hurry and fill up that nice linen handkerchief of yours before someone knocks for you, Victor. It’s what you need, a quick release, so you have the stamina to control the urgency in you when you see your delicate little flower later. Don’t want to scare her off now, do you?

I’m masturbating too. I have my knickers around my ankles, a big neon pink dildo in my pussy, and I’m typing one-handed as I shunt it in and out. I’m not pretending it’s anyone, though, it’s just a piece of silicone getting me off. Taking care of an urge, a necessity… In fact…I’m going to…

Send.

I stared at Ollie. He was holding his black sock in his free hand and he’d risen off the chair a little.

“Ah, ah, yeah…” He screwed up his eyes and came into the sock. The chair legs shifted, the back of the chair hit the wall. He groaned long and loud, pumping into the sock with an urgency that was almost endearing considering it was all about self-pleasure and he wasn’t actually fucking anyone.

I miss hearing you come.

I stared at Victor’s words. I missed hearing him come, too, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. Besides, I had Ollie now. I could listen to him come whenever I wanted.

“Oh, Victor, you’re such a sweetie, I’ve always wanted to see that show. You’re so wonderful and you spoil me terribly.”

“You’re worth spoiling.” I took the tickets back off Catherine and slotted them into my breast pocket. It had taken a considerable amount of string-pulling to get Les
Mis tickets at such short notice, and a private box too. “Come on, we should get going. Curtain up in an hour.”

She rubbed her hands and smiled prettily. A glimmer of hope sparked within me that she was animated, happy. Perhaps my plan to sup on her female flesh while she sat in the box would actually happen.

“I was thinking pasta as a pre-show dinner,” I said, grabbing my Porsche keys from the side and ignoring the stiffening in my groin.

“Perfect, get us in the mood for Tuscany.” She linked her arm with mine. “That will come round so quickly. Christmas will be over before we know it, and New Year is always such a rush of parties, and then we’ll be looking forward to the first bit of sunshine of the year.”

“Yes. I must get those flights sorted.” I made a mental note to do that as soon as possible. The more I thought about it the more I’d decided that a week away in an isolated villa in Tuscany was just what Catherine and I needed. Shame it wasn’t until the spring. I was chomping at the bit now for my particular brand of kink. Having a wank while emailing Zara yesterday hadn’t even scratched the surface of my needs. If anything it had made me hungrier.

We headed down in the lift and, once in the underground car park, I beeped my car to unlock.

“Do you think we have time to eat first?” Catherine worried as I opened the door for her. She arranged herself on the passenger seat, being careful not to crease her long red skirt.

“Would you rather eat afterwards?” I asked.

“I had a late lunch, so if it would suit you, too, then yes, that would be fine.”

“I’m not especially hungry,” I said, silently adding that I was, just not for food. “Afterwards will be perfect.”

“Can I get you anything else, sir?” A suited member of theatre staff wearing a squat, gold-trimmed cap half bowed as he backed towards the door of our lofty box.

I looked at the champagne on ice, the binoculars and programmes, and then at Catherine’s smiling face.

“I would just like to ask that we not be disturbed,” I said, passing him a twenty pound note. “For any reason.”

“Absolutely, sir.” He smiled and slipped from the box, pulling the door shut behind him.

I took a sip of champagne and glanced around. This box was perfect, as I’d known it would be. It was one of the highest. No one could see down into it. Also, because of its end position and the way it was staggered away from the others, it was completely private. Sure, if anyone looked across from the opposite side of the theatre they could see us, but only our faces. If one of us was to slip to the floor then they’d be none the wiser of where we were or what was going on.

“Cheers,” Catherine said, knocking back a big mouthful of her drink. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

“You’re lovely,” I said, leaning over and kissing her cheek. Her skin was super-soft, and she always smelled of a powdery perfume and a mixture of expensive face creams and shampoo.

“Victor,” she said, a little dreamily, and touched my hair.

“Yes?”

She hesitated. “I’m glad it’s you.”

“What do you mean?”

“That I’ve…”

I cocked my head, urged her to go on.

“That I’ve fallen for.” She glanced away, as though shy.

“And I’m glad it’s you,” I said, hooking my finger beneath her chin and pressing a firm kiss on her lips.

When I pulled back, she giggled and took another slug of champagne. I topped her up, hoping a bit of the bubbly stuff would make her more amenable to the plan I was going to put into action in twenty minutes or so. I’d decided to perform in the first half, because if all went well, who knew, perhaps she’d return the favour in the second half and I’d get to muffle my pleasure too.

The show started. Any other time I’d have probably appreciated the dramatic stage set and the talented singing, but by the end of the first two songs I was struggling to keep still in my seat. My cock was hard, my belly tight, and I was giddy with anticipation. I only hoped Zara had been right, and this would help release a beast in Catherine that would make her see we could try new things together and the dark bedroom didn’t have to be it for us.

I reached for her small hand, turned it within mine and traced a circle in her palm. She snuggled closer to me, her smooth bare shoulder touching my suit jacket as she released a contented sigh.

Feeling suddenly warm, I peeled my jacket off, rested it over the back of my seat then topped up both our drinks.

“Are you enjoying this?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s wonderful,” she whispered. “I adore the child playing Cossette, what a wonderful actor.” She gulped on her drink.

“Yes. Very good.” I glanced at her cleavage—her top was low cut and she must have been wearing a Wonderbra or something similar, because I knew her not to have such fullness in reality. But I wasn’t complaining, she looked hot and had certainly gained several admiring glances as we’d walked through the lobby. Yes, Catherine fitted well on my arm, there was no denying that.

She caught me staring and smiled. “Victor?” she whispered then drained her drink. “What is it?”

I grinned. It was a wicked grin, I knew that, but I didn’t care. “I’ve always had this naughty fantasy,” I said, tracing from her palm, over her wrist to the bend of her elbow. “Of being really naughty during a serious performance like this.”

“You have?” Her eyes narrowed, just the tiniest amount, and her smile slipped a fraction.

“Yes.” I licked my lips. “Do you want to help me realise it?”

“What do I have to do?”

“Nothing, actually, except sit and enjoy.”

She helped herself to another half a glass of champagne—all that was left in the bottle—then drank it in one go. “Enjoy what?”

“This.” I released her hand and slid to the floor, resting on my knees with my palms on her thighs.

“Victor?” she said, eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

“Being naughty.” I slipped my hands onto her ankles, beneath her skirt, and then slid the soft, silky material up to her knees so that it gathered around my forearms.

“Oh, my goodness.” She nibbled her bottom lip and glanced around, though of course no one would be able to see her as anything other than a woman sitting on her own in the highest, most expensive box in the theatre.

“It’s okay,” I said, skimming my lips over her bent knees. “No one can see and we won’t be disturbed.”

She set one hand on her thigh, as if stopping me from rucking the dress higher, and put the other on my head. “But, Victor, it’s so improper.”

“What is?”

Her attention darted to the stage, to the left and right and then to me. “Whatever it is you’re doing.”

I pushed at her dress, revealing her slim thighs and forcing her to move her hand. “And what am I doing?”

“Well you’re…you’re exposing me.”

“Only for my eyes.” I kissed her thighs, peppering affection and adoration over her warm skin as I smoothed my hand around then beneath her legs, almost onto her buttocks.

“But…”

“Like this.” I tugged her, just a little, down in the chair.

“Oh,” she gasped.

Her hand tightened in my hair, her legs parted, and I slipped the skirt high enough to reveal tiny matching red knickers.

“Please,” I said against her legs, knowing my breath would be hot and damp. “It’s practically risk free, and I do so want to adore you in this special way.”

“Victor, you’re being so…” Her cheeks were flushed, her breaths were rapid.

“So naughty? So spur of the moment?”

“Well… yes.”

“So join me.”

“But…” She paused, opened then shut her mouth.

I wondered what she was thinking. What arguments were raging in her mind. Was she consumed with lust? Or was she thinking she’d go along with what I wanted to keep me happy? It didn’t matter at this point, because if she went along with it, there was no doubt she’d be a very happy lady in about ten minutes.

“Okay,” she said. “But just be quick.” She tilted her chin and pulled at her knickers so all I had to do was loop them down her legs and over one stiletto.

“Darling, we have the whole of the first act to go,” I said.

Already I felt wrapped in her heat and scent. She’d allowed me to shoulder my way between her long legs and her pussy was there for the taking. Shadowed folds that were just waiting for the first touch of my tongue.

I began to kiss my way up her thigh again, feathering my fingers through her tangles of pubic hair. As I pressed a kiss to the first crease of her slit I was aware of material falling over my head, trapping her musky heat around my face. She’d spread the voluminous folds of her skirt over me, effectively hiding me between her legs.

I smiled to myself, adjusted my knees so I was comfortable. That suited me just fine.

Saliva pooled in my cheeks. I drew in a deep breath and slipped my tongue through Catherine’s pussy, savouring her flavour and the chance to truly explore all her neat folds and dips of skin.

She squirmed and tensed her legs around me, but she didn’t make any noise, though if she had the growing crescendo of the soprano on stage would likely have drowned out any sound

A sigh of contentment settled in my chest. Zara had never let me stimulate her this way—well, apart from that one lick. It was like she’d held it out of reach, an unattainable goal. I’d turned her down the first time she’d asked and it seemed that had been my bridge burnt, never to be offered again.

The swollen pea that was Catherine’s clit became the focus of my attention.

She pressed her hand on my head and shifted her hips away and then closer to me. I upped the pressure, suckled, rotated my tongue, pulled her into my mouth in a steady onslaught of caresses designed to take her to the edge.

In the distance the singer on stage was trilling and screeching, but the sound of my breaths and the snuffling sounds I was making were the real music to my ears. I sought out Catherine’s entrance, as I had done on a few occasions now, but unlike before, when we’d been having rather disjointed meetings in bed, now she was wet, wet and hot, and damn, her cream coated two of my fingers on my first thick slide into her.

New knowledge flicked in my brain. I’d found Catherine’s thing. She liked tongue action.

Amen.

No wonder she hadn’t put up much of a fight. Now all I had to do was prove to her I was up to the job, and in theory I should be able to get some of this whenever I wanted.

I could have kissed Zara for her suggestion, but she wasn’t here, so instead I French-tongued Catherine’s pussy, thrusting my fingers in and out of her wet hole and then slipping my tongue around her clit.

She was rocking her hips, small movements towards me, away from me. I kept up a steady rhythm, gave her three fingers to clench her internal muscles around, and within a couple of minutes was rewarded with her orgasm—an orgasm to feast on.

She locked her knees onto my shoulders, her clit bobbed in my mouth, and her pussy contracted around my fingers, right down to my knuckles.

I didn’t hear her gasp or say my name, or proclaim it to be lovely, because at that moment the crowd erupted into applause. Catherine could have screamed and it wouldn’t have mattered.

But what did matter was she’d just come on my tongue while we were at the theatre, and I felt as high as the box we sat in.

Perhaps she did have an inner beast. Maybe there was a little nymphomaniac lurking within her sweetness somewhere. All I needed to do was tempt it out to play.

I sat in my penthouse lounge, staring out at the lights of the city, pondering on how the evening had gone at the theatre. Catherine hadn’t returned the favour as I’d intended. She’d claimed tiredness soon after her orgasm, and no matter how often I’d tried to swerve the night’s events in the blowjob direction, she hadn’t been having any of it. How could someone so usually giving be so selfish? After a rather silent meal, I’d started driving us both back to my place, but she’d then said she hadn’t felt well, that the trout had tasted funny, and could I take her home.

To be honest, I was a little miffed at her anyway, so dropping her off at her cottage had been fine by me at the time. Now, though, I wished I’d coaxed her a bit more, talked her round. Maybe my subtle hints hadn’t been enough. I was fast realising she needed the sledgehammer approach in order to understand what I was getting at. Didn’t she have an imagination, was that it? Clearly, she didn’t just
know
. Didn’t pick up on innuendoes.

I wondered if that was how I’d seemed to Zara at first.

I sipped some of my decaff coffee, remembering how Zara had treated me. I’d been unsure with her but eager to prove I wasn’t The Virgin as she’d irritatingly called me. She’d been adamant to show me that I didn’t know everything, and Christ had she succeeded. The way she’d done it had been so clever that I pondered on whether I ought to use the same approach with Catherine. No nonsense, this is how things are going to be, and you’re going to learn a thing or two, little lady.