The Boss (20 page)

‘Um . . . hi.'

‘Hi, Fizz. You OK?'

His friends were exchanging knowing grins and quickly moved back to let us talk. I wasn't at all sure what to say, but he was being friendly and when he asked the crucial question there was no malice in his voice at all.

‘What's this I've been hearing?'

‘About what? No, I know. I suppose Billy's been telling you that I'm a cheating bitch, but it's not like that at all. I didn't know you wanted to be serious, and how was I to know you'd gone to Afghanistan, and . . .'

‘Hey, cool down. I'm not pissed with you.'

‘No?'

‘No, that's just Billy. Where he comes from if you wink at a guy he'll probably decide you're his for life. That's not me.'

‘Oh . . . good.'

‘Since we're on the subject, what's the deal?'

I shrugged, not really sure. Stephen and I were getting serious, but I didn't want to commit myself
when nothing had been said, or end up having either of them accusing me of being unfair to them. He spoke again before I could decide what to say.

‘Do you want to see me again, or what?'

‘I want to see you, yes . . . of course I do, but it's all got rather complicated.'

‘Tell me about it. Let's walk.'

He started down the steps to the river path. I hesitated, but we were already on camera. I followed, but when he tried to put his arm around me I detached it gently.

‘What's the matter?'

‘Nothing, except that we're being watched.'

He glanced back to the ZX-4 on the bridge.

‘That's not covering us.'

‘No, but at least two others are. My company's got a pilot scheme running right along this path.'

‘But we . . .'

‘That was just before they were put up. If we did that now we'd be giving a live show, not just to my bosses either, but half the nosy bastards on the council, and the police.'

‘Shit! Thanks for the warning.'

‘The whole town will be covered in a few weeks, and all the local lay-bys and stuff.'

‘You're kidding?'

‘No. Look, Martin, I don't know what Billy told you, but this is how it stands. I'm seeing my boss, Stephen, but it's not official or anything, not yet.'

‘You mean another guy might still get a look in?'

‘Something like that.'

He laughed.

‘You're honest, I'll give you that.'

‘Not really. I just hate big emotional crises and stuff. I've never understood why people can't just have fun together, as friends, without getting jealous.'

‘That's nature, I guess.'

‘Do you think so? I think it's just the way we're brought up, like sex has to be such a big deal all the time. I've never felt I wanted to be faithful to one man, not ever.'

‘Maybe you just haven't met the right man?'

‘Maybe.'

We'd reached Foulds', out of sight of his mates but not the cameras. By the time we'd got to the bridge across towards the Blue Boar I'd made a decision, and took his arm as soon as we were safely into the fields. He didn't say anything or try to push it, accepting my gesture at face value. By then he was telling me what it had been like in Afghanistan, which was both fascinating and horrible, making me feel that my own concerns were really trivial.

I'd originally been meaning to go to the pub, but we crossed the road and walked up into the Breckland. It was a beautiful evening, soft and warm, making it very easy to relax after spending the whole day running around at work. When Martin finally decided to kiss me I gave in immediately, allowing him to take over. He'd steered me off the path, to a little glade where he laid me down among the long grass, still kissing me as he fumbled open the buttons of my blouse. I was enjoying being undressed, and much too into him to think of anything else, until he was easing my knickers down under my skirt. As he cupped one cheek in a massive hand I felt my bruises, my skin still ridged from the six cane welts. A moment later he'd sat up,
quickly rolling me face down to inspect my bottom even as I gave a protesting squeak. My knickers were still down, and it was too late.

‘Shit! What bastard did that to you?'

‘It wasn't like that, Martin, it was . . .'

I broke off, sure he wouldn't understand and with a horrible picture of him punching Stephen's lights out, which I was sure he could do, and easily. The next moment I was babbling, making it up as I went along and saying anything but the truth.

‘. . . it was just a game, between me and . . . and my friend Josie, you know, from the band. We got a bit drunk, and . . . and she wanted to play forfeits, you know, when you have to tell a secret or do something . . .'

‘What, like truth or dare?'

‘Yes, like that, and she . . .'

‘You played truth or dare and you got your butt whacked?'

His voice had changed completely, from aggression to amusement. Evidently it was all right for me to get caned, so long as it was from another girl. I managed a wry smile.

‘Yes, six.'

‘I can see that. Ouch! What was the truth?'

‘Something really secret.'

‘I guess it must have been.'

His hand was on my bottom, very gently touching my cane marks and shaking his head in astonishment for what I'd supposedly let Josie do to me. It felt quite nice, but from his initial tone it didn't seem likely that he'd be prepared to give me anything similar. Or so I thought, until he spoke again.

‘So what, did she make you take your panties down?'

‘Hey! I thought you were concerned about me?'

‘Yeah, well . . . if someone had done that to you when you didn't want it, I'd break his face, but seeing it was a game . . .'

He trailed off, still stroking my bottom. I wasn't sure what to say for a moment, but it was probably obvious that I'd been done on the bare, while the thought seemed to turn him on.

‘Yes, she made me take my knickers down.'

‘She's a dyke, yeah?'

‘Yes.'

It was true, although beyond touching my tits up on stage she'd never tried it on with me, and that was really just part of the act with Rubber Dollies. She'd never expressed the slightest interest in spanking or caning, to me or anyone else. Yet it obviously turned him on and I was enjoying the attention to my bottom. He was growing more intimate too, tickling me under my cheeks, and as I laid my chin on my hands I continued.

‘You'd like to know, wouldn't you?'

‘It's kind of horny, I guess, you know, two girls doing kinky stuff. I like that.'

‘Yeah, you and every other man on this planet. OK, this is what she did. I had to bend over and touch my toes in front of her. She lifted my skirt up first, right up, then she took my knickers down, all the way, so everything showed. I had to stay like that while she fetched a cane . . . a bamboo it was, out of a pot plant. She gave me six strokes, hard ones.'

‘Looks it. I bet it hurt.'

‘It stings like anything, but it's OK, afterwards at least, because it left my bum feeling sort of warm and glowy.'

‘Yeah? So what, was that it, or did she hit on you?'

It was quite obvious that he wanted the answer to be yes, but it just didn't feel right and I decided to keep him guessing instead.

‘Wouldn't you like to know?'

His eyes went round, obviously having reached his own conclusion. He blew his breath out as he rolled over into the grass. I too changed position, laughing at the thought of what would be going through his head and how easy it was to drive him wild. The bulge in his trousers was obvious to say the least, and I let my hand stray down, stroking him, which sent a little shock of pleasure through me. A moment later I'd unzipped him and he was bare in my hand, thick and dark and hot, his balls too, all of it protruding from the fly of his uniform. It's always my favourite, an otherwise fully dressed man with his cock and balls out, and what with airforce uniform and the sheer size of him, Martin was a perfect example. That was enough for me, the sheer physicality of it, but he had other ideas.

‘Tell me about it while you do that.'

‘You're a dirty old man, Martin, do you know that?'

As I spoke I began to masturbate him, trailing my fingers over the silky skin of his balls and up the shaft of his cock. He groaned in response, putting out one big arm to gather me in, his hand once more on my bottom, stroking my cheeks as he spoke again.

‘Go on, Fizz, you can't leave me hanging like that.'

‘Can't I?'

‘Don't do this to me!'

I laughed again, amused by his urgency but still unsure. Josie was my friend and had always respected
my sexuality, just as I respected hers. And yet it was only fantasy, just to get Martin even hotter.

‘OK, but admit you're a dirty pig.'

‘OK, OK, whatever.'

‘Say it.'

‘Jesus, Fizz! OK, I'm a dirty pig, now tell.'

‘All right.'

I took hold of his cock, tugging firmly as he continued to fondle my behind. Not sure what to say, I decided to use my thoughts for how I liked to behave to Stephen after a punishment, only with Josie instead.

‘When she beat me, it made me feel really horny, and sort of eager, like I wanted to do everything for her. She knew it too, and I reckon she set out to get me that way, because she started to give me orders. First she made me strip off, all the way, while she just sat back in her chair, watching me. Then I had to crawl across the floor to her, on my hands and knees, and turn around to show her my bum. She touched me up, just like you're doing, only putting her fingers everywhere, and I do mean everywhere.'

It was an invitation, and not one he was about to resist. Again he groaned, and his fingers were burrowing between my thighs, to cup my sex, masturbating me just as I was masturbating him. I gave a little wiggle against his hand as I went on, now thoroughly excited despite myself.

‘She was really dirty with me, calling me her bitch and telling me how she would spank me regularly in future, always with my bum bare, and maybe in front of other people so everyone could see she was my boss. And when she'd had her fun with me she made me turn around again, and kneel at her feet while she took
down her jeans and knickers. Then she made me lick her, Martin, she made me lick her pussy with my bum all hot behind where she'd caned me, all the way too, until she came . . .'

I broke off, my body tight in his grip from a spasm of pleasure like a mini orgasm. He was rubbing me hard, his thumb was on my bottom hole and I was wriggling into him, too high to care for anything but my pleasure. I was going to come, properly, and I couldn't get the images I'd made out of my head, of me crawling naked on the floor with six cane welts decorating my bottom as Josie pulled me in to make me lick her sex.

‘You've made me do it, you bastard!'

With that I'd come, squirming myself onto Martin's busy hand as he brought me off, with my own hand squeezed tight on his cock. Before I'd even completely finished he was rolling on top of me, pushing my legs high and wrenching my half-lowered knickers further up, to hold me in place as he mounted me. For one moment I thought he was going to bugger me, because he seemed so obsessed with my bum, but he slid himself deep in the right hole, all the way, until his balls were pressed between my open cheeks.

He began to fuck me, fast and furious, setting me gasping and clutching at the grass, completely overwhelmed both mentally and physically, with my head full of shame and dirty thoughts just as my body was full of cock. I knew he'd be thinking the same too, of how my friend was supposed to have beaten me and made me crawl to her for a lick. It was just too dirty for me to hold back and, as he pulled out to finish himself off over my belly and thighs, my hand had
gone back to my sex, rubbing hard to bring myself to my second orgasm within a minute or less.

My evening with Martin had been very good indeed, and not just the sex. Like Stephen, he could make me feel dirty and at ease with myself at the same time. That said, I was more than a little embarrassed at coming over the thought of Josie punishing me, which left me feeling seriously mixed up. Otherwise it had been great, and unlike Stephen, he treated me as fully equal.

On the other hand, he didn't and probably couldn't take me to that place I'd been when Stephen had punished me. That was an ecstasy beyond anything I'd experienced before, and which I'd been thinking about even as Martin made me come. I knew it was an addiction and maybe somewhere I shouldn't go, but I've never really been very good at making the sensible decision.

The very next afternoon, after a day's work only a little less trying than the one before, Stephen asked if I'd like to come to Cuatro Cortado with him. I accepted immediately, and was still trying to make up my mind what to say as we walked up the High Street together. He was as casual as ever, at least outwardly, discussing how he and Paul intended to use the camera system in Hockford as a showpiece for further sales and his hopes for company expansion. It had struck me before that if I had the sort of money he appeared to have I'd have taken it easy. This made me wonder what I might be getting myself into as we sat down with a bottle of a pale dry sherry between us. Unlike the dark stuff it was at least drinkable and had a good kick, while he
assured me I'd eventually develop a taste for it. I decided to ask.

‘How big do you want to get then? Wouldn't it be better to make enough money to be comfortable and then retire?'

‘No, frankly, or at least not yet. I won't pretend money isn't important to me, but business is an end unto itself. If I wasn't involved with something I'd be climbing the walls in seconds. No, the knack is to build up a company until the major players in whatever market you've chosen start to take notice, when one of them is sure to try and buy me out. I always accept.'