The Best of Kay Jaybee (4 page)

A Leading Conversation

‘What would you do next?' Faye's voice had lost the cool indifference she'd been determined to maintain. ‘After you'd stripped me?'

‘Well, obviously I'd bend you over and spank you –
hard
.'

‘Really? What with?'

‘My belt.'

‘Your leather one? About an inch thick?' Faye could picture it clearly; faded, worn and brown, with a twisted knot pattern inlaid through its length. She shivered at the mere thought of it.

‘That's the one.'

‘What am I bent over?'

Sean was silent for a while and Faye could faintly hear movement around him. It hadn't occurred to her that this call was being made in public. She broke through his concentration, her tone husky and urgent, ‘Where are you anyway?'

‘I'm in a deserted waiting room on Banbury Station – and you, for the purposes of a much deserved spanking, are bent over the foot of your bed. Plus, I've just decided I will tie your wrists together in front of you.'

Despite the two mugs of coffee she'd recently downed, Faye's mouth felt dry. She couldn't believe how assertive Sean sounded, particularly as anyone could walk in on him at any moment. She wasn't even sure how this conversation had started. He'd been in an odd mood he'd said, sort of horny with nowhere to go and no one to shag, and for a reason Faye didn't understand, she had asked him what he'd like to do if he could. Sean hadn't even hesitated before blurting out that he'd like to see her naked.

From her oldest friend's rather startling confession only five minutes ago, they'd somehow got to Faye being naked, semi-bound with her arse in the air, awaiting the first stroke of his belt.

Her mind raced; was he just messing around? Would he end this with a laugh, and leave her feeling silly and privately humiliated for taking him literally? Or could he actually be serious, could he really want to do this to her?

‘Faye, are you still there?' Sean's voice interrupted her violently flickering thoughts, simultaneously reassuring Faye that he was serious, yet making her wonder if he was regretting sharing his fantasy.

‘I'm here.' She licked her lips, abandoning any lingering ideas about remaining aloof. ‘What happens next?'

‘I hit you. The leather makes a fantastic cracking sound as it connects with your skin, and the belt leaves a pretty pink patch on your flesh. I love it, so I do it again.'

For the first time, Faye noticed that Sean's breathing had become shallow and felt further reassured. She began to chew her bottom lip as she asked, ‘Am I crying out?'

‘Yes, but I don't want you to, so I've paused in my work to fetch a gag.'

‘A scarf?'

‘I have a ball gag.'

Faye's heartbeat quickened at the confession, and she couldn't keep the surprise from her voice, ‘You do?'

She was learning an awful lot this morning about this man she thought she'd known so well. This was a new Sean, an attractive stranger who had very grown-up sex toys. She would never have associated him with anything like that before now. ‘May I still ask questions – now that I am gagged, so to speak?'

Sean went quiet again and Faye could faintly hear the echoing squeak of a train's arrival being announced over a tannoy. As the noise died away, he said, ‘No. I think you should just listen to me for a while.'

Faye almost said ‘OK' but stopped herself. After all, Sean had already metaphorically silenced her. She wiped her palms on her jeans and looked around her while she waited for him to speak again. She tried to take in the view before her; the park, the trees, the ducks on the pond, but all she was conscious of was a desperate need to hear Sean's voice again. A new need, that during all the years of knowing him, she had never even considered as a possibility. Now though, as she sat on the dew-dampened bench, Faye felt her nipples stiffen and push at the insides of her white cotton bra, aware that her matching panties were getting stickier with every moment.

At last he continued, ‘I'm still hitting you.' Sean's voice was deeper now, more intense. ‘Your body is flinching with each blow as I build up an attractive criss-cross pattern of marks on your buttocks.

‘After ten strokes I come around to examine your face. There are tears at the corners of your wide blue eyes, and the gag is dotted with dribble. You look at me pleadingly, your face partially obscured by your blonde hair, but I'm convinced you don't want me to stop. You want more.'

Faye closed her eyes and gripped her mobile phone harder, blanking out everything but the sound of his gravelly voice, and the rapid pounding of her pulse.

‘I strip off really quickly, so you can see how hard I am, how much I want you. Then I go back to your arse and smack you some more, but with my hand this time.'

Faye was grateful she wasn't allowed to talk. What would she say anyway? Behind her closed eyelids the picture was so clear. She could see Sean, naked and powerful, his six-foot frame towering over her shorter, prone body. His cropped ginger hair, spiked with a little too much gel, the Celtic cross tattoo flexing on his forearm as he raised it to smack her ...

Her backside felt bruised against the wooden bench, as if some of the described blows had really been inflicted, or perhaps in anticipation of the fact that one day, they might be.

Sean interrupted Faye's superbly painful, erotic imaginings. ‘I've stopped now. I'm pulling you to your feet. I have to hold you steady for a moment because all the blood has rushed to your head.

‘I'm staring at your chest. It's perfect. Your nipples are hard. I inhale one into my mouth, and roll my tongue between the slightly rough areola and your soft tits.'

Faye let out a moan; she couldn't help it, her breasts had begun to physically ache from neglect.

‘You like that, I can tell. I like it too, but I don't want to rush things. Ten years I've waited for this, and I don't want it to end yet.'

Sean's tone cracked and faltered. Faye guessed he was trying to gather himself before he carried on. She wondered if his dick was hard, trapped, a prisoner against his jeans, just as her own clit was throbbing helplessly inside her own denims.

She could hear her friend take a lungful of air before he continued, ‘I undo the gag and kiss you. Fiercely, properly, for the first time since this began. You kneel, and take my cock in your mouth. Fuck it's good. Too good, and I ...'

A loud rushing sound drowned out Sean's voice. Faye could have wept. She wanted to ask what she'd missed him say as the train shot by, but Sean was in full flow, caught up in the physically unfelt touch of his vision. As the noise subsided, Faye realised that, in those few vital seconds, things had moved on quickly.

‘... it's so hard to decide. I want to do everything at once; I want it to be perfect. So, in the end, I hedge my bets.'

Faye almost yelled out, ‘What's so hard to decide?' but just at that moment a group of tourists wandered past her bench, and she bit back her query and simply listened.

‘I undo your wrists and position you on your hands and knees. Then I select a small butt-plug from my collection and slowly insert it in your bruised arse. You groan, but it's obvious that the feeling is good.'

Faye visibly quivered. She did like that; she'd always liked her butt being filled, but how on earth did Sean know?

Sean's speech was becoming more hurried all the time, and Faye leant forward, tense, straining to make sure she didn't miss anything else he said. ‘Then I take a pocket vibrator and place it over your clit. Your whole body starts to jump and, seeing you like that, so turned on, so ready for me, I can't deny you. I push into you, keeping the vibrator in place with one hand, and supporting myself with the other.

‘I can't describe how it feels, you're so tight, and bloody hell ...' Sean stopped, his hoarse voice dropping to a whisper, ‘I'd like to be able to though, describe it properly I mean.'

Faye couldn't speak, her whole body felt taut, robbed. She desperately wanted him to describe it, to make up what happened next. She'd been so close to coming, as she perched on the bench, in the middle of a public park, simply listening to her oldest friend's voice.

‘Faye?' Sean spoke softly, sounding concerned, his self-confidence temporarily shaken. ‘Are you still there?'

She gulped, fighting back tears, and the feeling that she'd been deliberately left hanging, her cry of ‘Sean?' sounding like a plea.

‘My train is coming, I can see it approaching. I'll probably lose the signal soon. I'll have to go, I ...'

‘Sean?' Faye felt anticlimax sweep across her.

‘Yes?'

‘Where is the train heading?'

‘To you.'

Faye let out a pent-up breath, such was the sexual static buzzing down the phone line; she hadn't even realised she'd been holding it in. ‘I'll be at home. The front door will be unlocked.'

Sean was walking now. Faye could hear the changes to the atmosphere around him as he left the waiting room, crossed the station, and entered the quiet hum of the train carriage. Determined assurance had returned to his voice, as if he felt vindicated at his decision to tell her how he felt. ‘I want to find you in the bedroom.'

‘Clothed or naked?' A passerby raised an eyebrow at Faye as she stood up and moved away from the bench.

‘Just underwear.'

‘When do you arrive?'

‘In about three hours.'

‘That's an eternity!'

‘It is with a hard-on like mine!'

Faye laughed, some of the tension draining out of her as she headed home. ‘Don't worry; I'll see to that, just you wait.' A thrill of expectation rippled down Faye's spine as she heard Sean muffle a moan of frustration, giving her the nerve to say, ‘I would never have associated you with those special toys you mentioned, I don't suppose you have any of them with you?'

Faye could visualise the twinkle in his familiar green eyes, and the mischievous smile on Sean's face as he replied, ‘Actually, I have packed with immense care, covering every eventuality. Oh, yes, and just so you know, I'm wearing my leather belt as well ...'

Cardboard

When Owen had asked Pia about her darkest, dirtiest dreams, her attention had most definitely been focused elsewhere. With his thick dick steadily pumping her snatch, and his agile fingers playing with her nipples, her concentration had been impaired. Consequently, when she'd confessed her most secret submissive desires, she hadn't been sure if Owen had actually heard her say that the smell of packaging that hung around him was as intoxicating to her as any drug. Or if he'd taken in the list of increasingly kinky things she'd like to happen to her amid a large pile of cardboard boxes.

After Pia had climaxed, she'd returned the question to him, but Owen's answer had been muffled by the soft skin he was kissing below her chest; Pia had been too consumed with renewed desire to hear the details of her lover's secret fantasies.

Waiting outside the courier depot, Pia watched the last two vans come in from their rounds, the drivers eagerly leaping from their vehicles and heading to reception. Automatically a blush started to spread across her cheeks as she wondered if they were as infused with the same mildly musty cardboard odour as Owen. Shaking herself to distract the erotic tableau that had appeared in her head, Pia fidgeted her feet against the pavement.

Where the hell had Owen got to? She could see his van, so he was definitely back from his round. Flicking a stray red hair up and under her green velvet cap, Pia checked her wristwatch. It was 6.45 p.m.; he was 20 minutes late. Heaving herself away from the wall against which she'd been propped, Pia walked towards the depot.

‘Can I help?' An austere-looking woman behind the reception desk was buttoning up her overcoat,

Pia smiled politely, ‘I'm waiting for Owen Richards.'

‘Ah yes, he said he was expecting someone. He's in the staff room I think.' Then, with a swift point of her finger towards the dirty double doors to Pia's left, the woman disappeared into the grey evening.

Taking off her hat, and shaking out her wavy red hair, Pia hesitated. She'd never been inside the depot before, but as Owen had obviously left a message for her, she supposed it was all right to be there.

Pia gingerly eased open one half of the double doors. The tang of cardboard, paper and dust hit her senses with a wallop, causing her body to instantly react. The whole place smelt as delicious as Owen did after a day in the van. It was as if the scent of the materials he worked with day after day had become ingrained in the pores of his skin. Telling herself that soon she and Owen would be home, and she could work off the lust that was tingling through her veins, Pia walked into the staff room

The silence was vaguely eerie. Battered armchairs edged the room, and an overloaded coffee table was strewn with back copies of lads' magazines and unwashed coffee mugs. Yet there wasn't a driver in sight.

Deciding to return to the reception, Pia's hand was on the front door when she became aware of a presence behind her. She swung around and drew a sigh of relief when she saw Owen, ‘Hell, you gave me a fright!'

‘Sorry, babe.'

‘Where've you been?'

‘I had a few things to sort out. My mobile had no signal, so I left a message for you; I take it you got it?'

‘The receptionist told me to wait in the staff room, but there was no one about so ...'

‘... you thought you'd run away?'

Despite his twinkling brown eyes and lopsided smile, there was something about the tone of his voice that made Pia uneasy.

‘Not run away exactly, but I didn't want to hang around in there on my own.'

Owen took hold of Pia's hand, ‘We're rather shorthanded at the moment, so I have a few more things to do.' He ran a hand through her hair. ‘Why don't you come with me?'

Pia allowed him to lead her back through the double doors, through the still empty staff room and on into the storeroom. The moment the door opened Pia drew in a sharp breath.

‘Well?' Owen appeared unsure, and yet his eyes gleamed as he gripped his lover's hand tighter.

The store was cool, square and dimly lit, and even the dusty air seemed to have its own residual echo. Easing her hand from Owen's, Pia surveyed the deserted room.

The walls had rows of flat-packed cardboard boxes lined up all around them. Piles of plastic bags emblazoned with the company logo sat stacked in one corner, and three industrial-sized dispensers of parcel tape lay abandoned next to them. On the floor, a heavy layer of grime clung possessively to the surface, except for where someone had laid out a rectangle of squashed-down boxes, more or less in the size and shape of a king-sized bed.

Swallowing some moisture back into her throat Pia whispered, ‘Is this what you've been sorting out?'

His reply of ‘Yes' was barely audible as he waited for her reaction.

‘So where is everybody?'

‘It's Saturday evening, babe. Next shift doesn't start until six tomorrow.'

Even though the room was cold, Pia felt hot and uncomfortable in her coat and scarf. Unable to drag her gaze from the bed of cardboard, she said, ‘I didn't think you'd heard me when I told you. You never said anything about my fantasy afterwards.'

‘I heard most of it.'

As Owen's hands reached around her and started to undo the buttons of Pia's coat, her mind surged;
how much had he heard?

Pia's eyes moved to the doors, ‘But we can't! The door is unlocked, anyone could walk in.'

Owen produced a bunch of keys from his pocket, ‘I'll lock the main door.'

Pia's pulse rate tweaked up a notch.
Could they really do this?
The smell of cardboard and the closeness of Owen, not to mention the wrongness of even being there, sent quivers of erotic excitement through her body. No one had ever tried to act out a fantasy for her before, not even half a fantasy.

‘I'll go and lock the door then, shall I?'

Not trusting herself to speak, Pia just inclined her head.

Owen kissed her, his stubble scratching her face, his hands squeezing her shoulders through her coat. ‘I won't be long.' His voice was husky, ‘Lose the coat and wait for me on the cardboard.'

Watching him disappear through the door, Pia felt her palms grow clammy. Doubts were queuing up at the back of her head.
What if Owen doesn't lock the door properly? How can he be absolutely sure that there's no one left in this massive building? Do I even want to do this in real life – after all, shouldn't fantasies remain just that?

‘Why's your coat still on?' Owen's voice was accusing rather than amused.

‘You were quicker than I expected.'

‘Of course I was!' He wrenched the jacket from her shoulders, ‘I'm about to see a beautiful woman writhe before me on a pile of cardboard.'

Pia's cheeks coloured violently, his brusque manner was in keeping with her dream, but totally foreign to his usual considerate nature. Owen unwound her scarf as she asked, ‘Are you sure that it's OK? I don't want you getting the sack or anything.'

‘I think you should leave the worrying to me. I also think you've said enough for the moment.' Bundling up Pia's hair, Owen scrunched it into a ponytail, which he tied with a collection of elastic bands he had wrapped around his wrist.

Her head spinning as Owen tugged her hair through the rubber loops, catching stray wisps painfully between his fingers, Pia shut her eyes, and inhaled slowly. The aroma of packaging filled her nostrils. She could almost taste it at the back of her throat. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself face to face with Owen. His expression killed any inclination she'd had to speak. A determination permeated with lust radiated from him, and Pia felt her tits swell beneath his stare.

‘Strip.'

It was not an order that could be ignored. Pia's shaking hands began to fumble at her shirt buttons, her eyes glued to the bulge beneath Owen's black combats.

Shivering with a combination of cold and fear, standing in only her cream knickers and bra, Pia paused, goose-pimples breaking out across her skin.

‘That'll do for now.' Owen's dark eyes shone at her, ‘Now stand right in the middle of the boxes.'

Wordlessly she moved, her naked feet sinking against the uneven make-shift carpet, her toes shuffling away from the occasional rough corner. Fully aware of how turned on she was despite her misgivings, Pia could feel her silk panties sticking to her pussy.

Dragging his eyes away from his girl, Owen walked purposefully to the stack of plastic bags, and picked up one of the tape dispensers. Then, yanking Pia's arms behind her back, he caught her wrists in one hand, and deftly wrapped some tape around them.

‘Owen, I ...'

He interrupted his lover before she could go on, ‘You wanted to be dominated on a pile of cardboard boxes. It's too late to complain now it's happening.'

Pia opened her mouth to argue, but Owen's calloused hand came up quickly, and was pushed over her dry lips. ‘If you can't keep quiet then I'll have to force you to.'

Surprised at how easily Owen had taken to this new role, Pia clamped her mouth together beneath his hand.

‘That's better. Now sit down.'

Uncertainty flew through her as she sat cross-legged on the cardboard, curiosity at what might happen next arousing her still further. She kept telling herself that there was nothing to be afraid of, that Owen would never hurt her, but Pia couldn't help feeling a frisson of fear as hormones zipped through her body in passion-fuelled confusion.

Crouching before her, Owen smiled and, reverting to normal, said, ‘You look incredible. How do you feel?'

‘Good – I think.'

‘Close your eyes.'

The second they were shut, the heady perfume of card and tape intensified the sensation of Owen's hands on her breasts. Pia was unable to contain a sigh of relief as he unfastened her bra, but when Owen pinched each teat, her sighs became voluble squeals.

‘I told you to be quiet. I'll have to silence you.'

Pia's eyes shot back open, ‘But ...'

Owen was shaking his head as though he was bitterly disappointed. ‘You've proven you can't be trusted.' He picked the parcel tape back up.

Before Pia could protest, Owen sealed her mouth with a neat rectangle of beige tape. As the sticky surface adhered to her lips, Pia tried to stop her chest pounding with panic. Adjusting to breathing to just through her nose; she looked and felt like a kidnap victim.

Owen nodded in satisfaction, ‘Beautiful.'

As tears of shock gathered at the corners of Pia's eyes, he added, ‘Beautiful, powerless, and silent.'

Throwing the tape to one side, Owen's hands began to fondle the soft flesh of her chest, while licking the moisture away from her eyes.

Pia's body readily responded to his touch and, as Owen's fingers dropped into her lap, teasing her stomach, prickles of longing shot up and down her spine. Staring into her eyes, Owen took his hands lower still, making Pia's breath shallower as he danced his fingertips around the edge of her knickers. Then, holding her gaze, he cupped her mound firmly in one hand.

‘You hot hussy,' He stroked a stray hair from over her eyes, ‘a helpless hussy. So gorgeous.'

Pia wished she could speak, wished she could reach out and caress his body, handle the muscles in his arms, scratch her nails across his flesh, but she had no choice but to sit, the edges of the boxes digging into her backside.

‘In fact,' Owen tilted his head in mock contemplation, ‘I think it's a real shame there's no one else here to see how fantastic you look.'

Pia's heart skipped a beat. Suddenly she knew how wrong she'd got things. He hadn't only heard part of her mumbled fantasy, he'd heard it all. She'd been the one who hadn't been paying enough attention when they'd discussed their deepest desires, not him.

Owen stroked Pia's cheek with one hand, and kneaded her pussy with the other, staining the fabric of her panties with her juices, ‘I couldn't believe my luck when you told me your submissive dream. To be shagged by two men at the same time on cardboard. You really are my dirty little girl, aren't you?'

Pia frantically shook her head, the reality of other men seeing her vulnerable body hitting her in a wave of nervous adrenaline.

‘Oh no, baby,' Owen gripped her crotch tighter, using it to lever her to a standing position. ‘I don't believe you really want to leave. I think this is what you want; your body certainly agrees with me.' He reinforced his claim by jabbing a hand inside her knickers, making Pia inwardly groan with pleasure. Bringing his fingers straight back out again, he showed his lover the glistening liquid that stuck to his skin. Licking Pia's juices away, he said, ‘You couldn't want this more if you tried, and as you would know if you'd been listening, I'd just love to watch your dream in action.'

As if Owen's words had been a pre-planned cue, the door to the storeroom opened, and the two drivers Pia had seen earlier walked in.

Pia's pulse pounded manically as Owen greeted his guests. ‘This is Pia, Pia this is Andy and Craig. I think they'll fit your requirements.'

Stunned, Pia just stood there, conscious of nothing but the new arrivals' eyes as they mentally removed her underwear. They were so near to her that she could smell the same incredible aroma of sweat and cardboard that Owen shared, and the uncertainty that had knotted in her gut was swamped by a hot flush of erotic anticipation. Dressed in the same uniform of green polo-shirt and black combats, all three men oozed an air of barely tamed lust.

Andy, tall and slim, his blond hair short and spiked, stood to her right. The stockier figure of Craig, his head shaved, his eyes as emerald as his shirt, waited, poised, to her left.

Pia's legs began to shake as Owen bent his lips to her ear, ‘They are so hot for you. So fucking hot, and I'm gonna watch them have you.'

Her shoulders quivered as his breath tickled her skin and, with eyes that pleaded for reassurance, she peered up at him.