“Untie me, Ian,” she ordered him. The reality of the last hour suddenly gripped her painfully.
“I really shouldn’t,” he answered, looking at her sweaty nakedness glowing prettily in the mellow light. “I should probably report this to your husband, have him find you here. Watch how he punishes you for your disobedience.”
“He’s not that easily led,” Jocelyn assured him.
“I bet not,” he agreed. “In fact, I bet he’s the cool type. Incredibly handsome, chilling in his domination and occasionally warm when it suits his fancy to be congenial.”
Jocelyn had no intention of letting Ian know how close he was to the truth. She remained expressionless while she waited for him to untie her. “Please, Ian, the ropes,” she prompted him.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. He looked down on her despondently. It was just too painful a thought setting her free.
“I won’t let you fuck me again,” she warned him.
“Yes, I’m sure. You’re very good at denying me.” His thoughts were on the past when she left him years before. And though that was a dreadful memory, he went ahead undoing the knots at her feet. “Then you’ll see me again before I have to leave?” he asked.
She sat up, a little dizzy, still intoxicated by the sex. “I don’t know, Ian, I’m not so sure this was a good idea.”
“Why’s that? What better fun could there be? If I had my way I’d spirit you off to Europe with me.”
“You’re going back? I had the impression that it wasn’t safe for you.”
“Ah, that’s minor.” He finished letting go her hands and ambled toward a basket of fresh fruit sitting on the table in the room. Plucking a handful of red wine grapes, he popped several in his mouth and threw several her way, Jocelyn incapable of catching any of them. “Here,” he said, moving toward her. Finding her mouth with one grape, his fingers pressed it to her lips, allowing the juice to run down her chin. “You don’t think you’d like to ride my motorbike through the English countryside, or take a barge down the Seine, or hole up in that little villa we stayed at in Tuscany? I still have the key.”
“We were trespassing,” she reminded him.
“But no one knew.”
“We were in our twenties.”
“But you’re hardly out of them.”
“Enough to know that I can’t escape my life running off with a near-do-well urchin in gentleman’s clothes.”
“Of course you can. If you have any life left after letting the world beat it out of you. Try this.” He crouched before her, slowly peeling a thick banana in front of her. Her eyes darted from the erotic fruit to his licentious expression.
“I could shove this up your ass and eat it out,” he posed.
“Ian, no, that’s disgusting.”
“Oh, but it’s sexy. It’s been a long time since I’ve tormented a woman who was so prime. How did I know you’d be in such a mess? Perhaps my intuitive power divined your travail and came to rescue you. Did you ever think of that?”
She laughed and shook her head, after taking a swipe at the banana with her teeth and biting off the end as though she’d like to do that to the head of his penis.
“I won’t change, you know.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” she said. “And I wouldn’t want that. But in a saner frame of mind, love, it would be dangerous being found with you now. Totally scandalous. And that has nothing to do with how Reggie would react.”
“Reggie, your cold prick husband?” he asked disdainfully.
“His prick is always warm,” Jocelyn objected. “And now, I have to be going.”
“Ooo, getting edgy are we?” They rose to their feet, Ian smacking her ass. “I will have it again,” he assured her. “Now that I know that you were just fooling with me, making me think you didn’t like getting whipped. I could expand your horizons limitlessly.”
“You’re too damned cocky for your own good, Ian. You always were, and I know whatever scrap you’re trying to weasel out of now has everything to do with that incorrigible irreverence.”
With his blackest eyes he perused the mass of unruly red hair while she restored her clothes stuffing herself back into the mold she’d created for herself. He watched, with a little darkness brewing in his expression as each button slipped through a button hole.
“You’re not so sure of yourself anymore, little scamp,” he observed quite seriously. “You can’t hide that from me. You’re hurting inside and the only way you’re going to change that is to do something drastic.”
“Today wasn’t enough?” she replied nervously.
“No, you need the cure, a long irresponsible summer of madness.”
“Well, thank you, Dr. Doom, I think I’ll try my own methods first.”
“I’m sure you will,” he snickered. But you always know you have me as your back-up plan.
Chapter Four
The skyline of the city was as drab to Jocelyn’s eyes, as the bleak picture of her next few days. In the midst of the depression, her attorneys having just walked out of the office, her stomach fluttered nervously as though she wanted sex. Unfortunately, there was no one available to help assuage her current grief.
Picking up her phone she dialed the number for Reggie’s hotel room in New York. There’d been a little magic between them when he called the evening before. He’d suggested that she call back when she got to the office the next morning, thinking some old fashioned submissive assignments might cheer her. She’d awakened with a smile remembering his offer.
The phone rang seven times before she returned to the operator. “Mr. Harold is not answering, would you like to leave a message?”
“Message?” she repeated to herself. Too late, the attorneys chewed up half the morning, and she was left with her sex about to climb out the window onto the ledge, and Reggie likely ensconced in meetings for the remainder of the day. “No, I guess not.”
Pulling a slip of paper from her purse, she dialed a second number and heard a familiar voice answer.
“Ah! You did call,” Ian exclaimed.
“It might be best to come around six,” she suggested.
“Sneaking around, huh?” he asked.
“I want it private.”
“I’m easy to accommodate,” he returned. “And I’ll have a surprise for you.”
***
With the lights out, Ian Pennywhistle’s second assault on her in a week could be accomplished nearly anonymously. She waited for him in near darkness, an attitude of mind as much as the reality in her darkened office where she anticipated his arrival.
Skilled at the extemporaneous moment, Ian was quick to answer Jocelyn’s mood and was for a second time amused and elated by the prospect of having this amazing female under his control. She’d always been a testy one in the past. But the years having matured her and the likelihood that her husband had educated her beyond ordinary sexual talents, she’d become an even more fascinating conquest.
Her office open, he crept silently inside and closed the door, seeing the redhead sitting primly at her desk. Somewhere in the distance a vacuum cleaner purred erratically. In the outer office the fax machine hummed. And a low agitated whine from the pop machine in the hallway made Jocelyn a meditative picture of serenity appearing out of the din of muted office noise.
“I knew you’d want me again,” Ian said softly, as he leaned in, one hip resting on her desk.
“I wanted my husband tonight,” she informed him.
“So, I’m just second fiddle to the master?”
“Actually, I think you play a different instrument altogether.”
“That doesn’t matter to me.” He stared for some moments, trying to figure a mood he’d never really associated with the carefree woman he’d known years before. Reading from her expression a malevolent demon lurking in Jocelyn’s frame of mind, he could see endless possibilities. At the same time, he feared it was desperation not desire motivating this tryst. He’d be careful. “If I were to guess, I’d say you don’t want it easy tonight.”
“Probably not,” she agreed.
“Then I’ll take your ass,” he decided. He turned to the sitting area in her office, spotting a chair that looked appropriate for his purposes. “Over the back of that should do.”
Rising, Jocelyn walked like a woman on the way to the gallows, a woman prepared to be punished for the crime of rampant desire. The act itself would be a second crime against her marriage vows in one week, driving her more deeply into an irreconcilable position with Reggie. However, knowing this did nothing to dissuade her. If Reg had been at the hotel that morning, if she hadn’t been in meetings that afternoon when he called, if he’d simply stayed in his room to take her call just an hour before, all this might have been averted.
Looking at the waiting Ian with his diabolical eyes shining down on her, the powerful need in her flared—maybe even more powerful than she might have felt with Reggie standing there. Being a naughty wife had its own peculiar kind of charm. While Ian stared at her, she reached around and undid the clasp and zipper on her skirt. Letting it drop to the floor, she likewise unfastened the garter belt and inched each stocking down a leg until the two flesh-colored bits of nylon and the lace belt were a puddle on the floor.
Though Ian didn’t ask for this formal unveiling, he appreciated the spirit in which it was performed. His only disagreement came when she turned to bend over the chair.
“Put your heels back on,” he ordered. The look of her ass in heels was not something he planned to miss.
With her feet tucked back inside her high heels, Jocelyn resumed the ceremony, offering Ian Pennywhistle her bared behind to abuse as he saw fit. Had he realized how willing and how well-schooled she was in sexual submission, he might have thoroughly abused her bottom and left a scarlet masterpiece of welts. As it was, he remained reluctant to wreak the darkness that was part of his nature. He was assured of a rowdy ass fuck, but it was dangerous to push a woman in Jocelyn’s fragile frame of mind into a bitter battle. Above all, Ian was an opportunist with the sole intention of enjoying himself. Leave the rancor and soul searching for the husband. His plan quickly set, he wouldn’t waver.
Noting what a juicy cunt greeted his roving fingers, Ian used the liquid to lubricate the puckering hole above. One, two then three fingers were easily inserted beyond the tight barrier, and she began to relax. Given the way she seemed at ease, Ian could tell that Jocelyn Killian Harold was well versed in the requirements of anal stimulation and surrender. He smiled at his good fortune.
Taking his enlarged organ from his pants, the thick piece was pressed against the doorway for just an instant before it slid inside. “Ahhhhh, ahhhhh yes,” the delighted Jocelyn murmured under her breath, while her bottom moved in tiny jerks and starts as she got used to the penetration. “Deeper, Ian,” her melodious consent urged him forward. But knowing his own mind in the matter, Ian choose to keep his erection just beyond the opening where he could slowly move inside and then withdraw, and then move just a little deeper the next time he thrust. Having the yielding woman moaning for that one deliciously enthusiastic plunge inside the nether portal, he amused himself until he was sure he’d driven her to the edge of endurance. Then with an alarming lunge against her ass, he nestled deep within where he remained motionless for some seconds.
He felt her muscles pulsing around his organ. The spasms were severe. Jocelyn had difficulty getting used to the intense and sudden violation even though she’d asked for it. But letting her rest with the prick inside to the hilt, she finally came around to accept him fully and began swaying her hips again as a whore’s come-on.
“My, what I’ve missed,” Ian sighed. An exalted shiver of happiness tore through his loins and limbs. Drawing his erection back, a gentle massage of the woman’s whole channel began. Each time the ramming organ drove deep and then slowly pulled away, Jocelyn’s body quaked and an audible, half woe, half pleasure escaped her lips.
In her mind she was escaping reality. With every thrust of Ian’s bold cock another piece of her wounded life was falling aside, lost in the void where for a time she wouldn’t be reminded of the pressing hurt. Such a pleasant amnesia! Only if she could, she would swim in that place forever, never resurfacing, never becoming conscious again. Picking up speed, Ian began fucking her harder. His dick probed her like hell on wheels. She screamed softly, demanding she relinquish more, that she give up any desire of her own, abandoning her own needs for his. She became her ass alone, nothing more than an ass for a horny man to screw.
Ian lasted a long time inside her, drawing back and waiting several times when he was about to climax. Building again with intensity renewed, the willing recipient of his relentless pursuit for the perfect orgasm allowed herself to be used with little worry that he’d cause her pain. The harder his prick thrust the more she seemed to like it. And then by some common agreement communicated in the silent language of two fucking bodies, Ian picked up the pliant flesh of Jocelyn’s form, and held her tight against his chest as he climaxed.
Ian brought her back to life by fingering her clitoris. She jerked hard, her body spasming deeply and without restraint now that Ian had been satisfied. And yet with so much going on inside her body, she struggled to find the orgasmic handle. Ian had an expert way of toying with her cunt, and soon her body crested to a place of physical ecstasy where she stayed for a long while as the orgasm rolled through her.