The Taming of Jessica (3 page)

Straining her ears, Jessica thought she caught the sound of a car engine starting up in the street outside, and the soft purr of the Bentley as it drove away. How could she have ever doubted that her husband would be true to his word?

‘I wish I didn’t have to do this, Jessica.’ Max almost sounded genuinely regretful as he smoothed his hand over her skin, lulling her with the tenderness of his touch. ‘But that wild, uncontrollable streak of yours, that urge to be fucked by anyone and everyone – it has to be tamed. Maybe you’re right, maybe I’m guilty of not giving you all the attention you need, but even so, do you really need to repay me by making some kind of cuckold out of me?’

The first swat against her backside took her by surprise. Max’s hand met her firm, bare cheek with considerable force. She recoiled at the sharp crack, such a contrast to the gentle caresses of moments before. Now there was no tenderness; just the need to punish, to ensure she never misbehaved in a public arena again.

Jessica found it hard to believe anything could hurt as much as that slap. She yelped as the inescapable, fiery pain seared her nerve endings. If she had been able to catch a glimpse of her bottom, she would have seen the white outline of Max’s palm gradually turning crimson as blood flowed back to the area. A moment later, and she would have been able to admire its twin, proudly adorning her other buttock. Max was marking her, leaving the imprint of his fingers on her skin like his own personal brand, and though she squirmed and pleaded with him that she’d do anything he wanted, anything at all, if only he’d stop spanking her, a small, hidden part of her wanted to wear that mark with pride. She found herself yearning to be Max’s in a way she never had before; when they’d stood in church and recited their marriage vows, she’d promised to obey him. All her friends had considered that wildly old-fashioned, and until tonight she’d almost revelled in disobeying him, in taking her pleasure whenever and wherever she wanted it. Now, as slap after stinging slap landed on her arse, each one sending new flares of pain through her hot, sore flesh, she was beginning to realise there was some virtue in submitting to her husband’s will.

For if no one had told her how much a spanking would hurt, neither had they informed her that the pain would gradually give way to the darkest, sweetest pleasure. She was still kicking and wriggling, but now the movements were perhaps more exaggerated than was strictly necessary and guaranteed to provide him with flashes of her pussy, blossoming into arousal once more as he continued to spank her. She knew she would not be able to take much more of his treatment before she was sobbing quietly and begging him to slide his fingers into her aching sex. Not that she thought she deserved to come, but her body’s needs were overriding any sense of composure.

And spanking her was turning Max on, the steady pressure of his cock against her leg an all too obvious indication of his excitement. Once he decided she’d received enough in the way of punishment, she was sure he’d free that rigid shaft and fuck her till both of them were exhausted.

Except his self-control was greater than she could ever have imagined, for a man who’d been away from his wife for days and hadn’t fucked her for – how many weeks now had it been, exactly? At last, with her bottom feeling swollen to twice its normal size and her juices running freely down the insides of her thighs, she was helped to her feet by Max. She reached for his fly, wanting to bring his cock out to play, but he pushed her hand away.

‘But Max, I need it. I need to come.’

‘That’s not your decision to make, Jessica. You don’t come until I give you permission, understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Was he really denying her an orgasm, sending her off to bed with a frustrating ache in her pussy and an unfulfilled need to have his cock inside her? She couldn’t believe he could be quite so cruel, yet the feeling of being controlled by him, of having no say in her own satisfaction, thrilled her in a way she couldn’t explain.

Her hand was on the doorknob when he called her name. ‘You took your punishment very well, darling, though this isn’t the end of the matter, not by a long way. But I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I appreciate that my neglect of you has been partially responsible for your appalling wildness. So I’m going to arrange for us to have a few days away.’

‘Really?’ She was always trying to persuade Max to take a holiday, but he always claimed some pressing piece of business was preventing him from making the necessary arrangements.

‘You remember Damon Barada?’

Jessica racked her brain. The name rang a bell, but Max had so many wealthy associates she sometimes struggled to tell them apart. In her experience, one self-made millionaire was very much like another.

‘Well, he owns a little island in the Caribbean, and he’s always inviting us to stay in his private resort. Until now, I never really thought the time was right, but now I think a spell there would do us both some good.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s too late to do anything right now, but I’ll make the arrangements in the morning. I’ll book us on the first available flight.’

As he wished her goodnight, Jessica gained the fleeting impression Max was withholding some vital piece of information from her, but she was too tired, and too frustrated, to give any serious thought to the possibility. In a couple of days, all being well, they would be on some paradise island, away from all the pressures of London life and Max’s business interests.

Lying in bed, resisting the urge to slip a hand between her legs and bring herself to the orgasm she so badly craved, Jessica finally brought Barada’s face to mind. Ash-blond and mid-50s, with a strong, bearded jaw and weatherbeaten complexion that gave him the air of a professional big-game fisherman. He’d made his money in telecommunications, and there were at least half-a-dozen countries in the world where it was claimed you couldn’t make a mobile phone call without putting money into Damon Barada’s pocket. She had met him at some black tie function she’d attended with Max a couple of years back, and been struck by the man’s charisma and almost overpowering air of confidence. It was a common attribute, she’d found, among men whose wealth could be counted in the billions: a belief that the odds were, and always would be, stacked overwhelmingly in their favour.

She drifted off to sleep imagining herself lying on a sun lounger, sipping some rum-heavy cocktail and watching the waves break on an unspoiled beach of soft, white sand. And in the evenings, she and Max would make long, slow love, rekindling the passion they’d let dwindle in recent months and falling in love with each other all over again. Paradise indeed.

Chapter Three

Jessica glanced around the first-class lounge, wondering how much longer it would be until their flight was called. Sitting beside her, Max’s attention was focused solely on his smartphone as he checked his emails. Even now, he couldn’t switch off.

Still, at least he’d been as good as his word when it came to organising their getaway. He’d called Damon Barada the following day to make the arrangements. She hadn’t been party to the conversation, but, according to him, Damon had been delighted to hear they planned to visit his resort.

At Max’s insistence, she had packed little more than a selection of swimming costumes, a couple of sarongs, and an evening dress. ‘It’s not a formal resort,’ he’d assured her, ‘and no one will be expecting you to wear much in the way of clothes.’

She looked up at the monitor announcing the list of departures for what must have been the hundredth time. Flying always made her anxious, even though she knew that statistically it was less risky than travelling in Max’s Bentley, and the glass of champagne she’d gratefully accepted on arrival in the lounge had done little to settle her nerves. ‘Oh, here we go,’ she said, reaching for her carry-on bag, ‘Flight 326 to Antigua, Gate 17. At last.’

Max tapped the screen of his phone a couple of times before stuffing the device in his jacket pocket. ‘There’s something I need you to do before we board the plane.’ He unzipped his own bag, and took out a small box. ‘Put this on for me.’

Wondering what on earth he could want her to wear for a long-haul flight, Jessica peeked into the box and bit back a gasp at the bizarre sight greeting her within. A butt-plug, only a little thicker than one of her fingers, made of what looked like solid steel, with a pink crystal embedded in its flanged base. Alongside the plug lay a sachet of lubricant.

‘Max, I can’t,’ she told him in a horrified whisper. A couple of passengers had risen and were leaving the lounge, presumably to board their flight. They couldn’t have a clue what Max had just ordered her to do, but if they were to look in her direction they must be able to see the embarrassed flush she could feel burning in her cheeks.

‘Oh yes, darling, you can, and you will.’ He brushed a finger along her throat. ‘Did you really think your punishment was over after I’d spanked you? You still have an awful lot to learn about obedience, my dear, and if I tell you to stick a butt-plug in your tight little arse, you’ll do it.’

She should have objected, but Max’s words were igniting a blaze of desire low in her belly. It shouldn’t have turned her on to be given such a demeaning instruction, but it did, and worst of all, her husband knew it.

‘Hurry up and get yourself off to the ladies’. We wouldn’t want to miss the flight, now would we?’

Max gave her a pat on the bottom, and she scurried off in the direction of the lounge bathroom. Fortunately, all the cubicles appeared to be empty. She locked herself into the one furthest from the door, and took a deep breath before removing the butt-plug from its box. She’d never worn anything like this before, which was no doubt why Max had chosen one with such a slender shaft, ideal for a novice. Even so, the thought of being pegged in such an intimate fashion made her stomach churn. Aware that time was passing and their flight might be closed at any moment, she reached up under her skirt and tugged down her panties. A tell-tale dampness in the crotch gave away her excitement at submitting to Max’s kinky demand, and she couldn’t deny that she wanted to do this, whatever the rational part of her brain might tell her.

Tearing open the lubricant sachet, she smeared most of its contents over the plug, and the rest at the entrance to her arse. The lube was unusually thick, designed especially for anal play, and carried a cherry scent that she suspected was Max’s idea of a joke, given it was her first time. Jessica was glad no one was around to see her anointing her rear hole with the cool, sticky goo.

Reaching behind herself, she pressed the tip of the plug home. It slipped in far more easily than she might have imagined, cold metal sliding up into her hot, clutching passage, and she groaned at the penetration. No more than a couple of inches long, the plug was big enough to make her aware of its presence with every movement, but not so big that it would become uncomfortable with extended wear. Though surely Max couldn’t mean for her to wear it throughout the whole journey? Antigua was around eight hours away, then there was a connecting flight to one of the smaller British Virgin Islands, and a boat ride from there to Isla Barada. Once he’d satisfied himself that she had followed his instructions, hopefully he’d relent and let her take it out. Anything else would be pure torment.

Pulling up her panties and making herself respectable once more, Jessica flushed the toilet. She hadn’t heard anyone come in while she’d been fiddling with the butt-plug, but it was always best to be on the safe side. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror that ran the length of the wall as she splashed water on her face, she noted the redness in her cheeks and the glittering brightness of her eyes. She’d found herself taking shorter steps than usual as she exited the cubicle, trying to minimise the movement of the toy inside her, but its very presence was stimulating her beyond belief. How foolish she’d been to think that Max’s display of dominance over her had been a one-off. She only hoped he wouldn’t think of trying to enforce this strange brand of discipline on her in front of Damon Barada or the guests of the resort; that would be too humiliating for words.

Taking a deep breath, she went to join Max in the lounge once more.

‘That was good timing,’ he said as she approached him, the smirk on his face telling her he knew just how much of an effort she was having to expend to keep her breathing, her motions, her demeanour as close to normal as she could. ‘They’ve just made the final call. Let’s not keep them waiting any longer.’

Jessica followed Max out of the lounge, heading in the direction of Gate 17. He walked at a fast pace, causing her to scamper to keep up with him. The pressure of the plug in her arse was sheer torture, and she almost begged Max to slow down. But that would have been admitting he’d won even before the game – and on one level that was all this was, just a cruel, teasing game – had properly begun. So she bit back the whimpers of frustration and need and trotted obediently after him.

They were the last two to board the plane, the flight attendant greeting them with a smile as they headed for their first-class seats and giving no indication that they’d been keeping the rest of the passengers waiting. Whatever torment Max intended to put her through, at least he was doing it in comfort, Jessica thought as she took her seat. She shuddered at the idea of sitting crammed in economy with her bottom plugged.

Nerves overtook her as the plane thundered down the runway and began its steady ascent. Even if she hadn’t been a nervous flyer, she wouldn’t have been able to relax, not with all her senses concentrated on the subtle but overwhelming presence of the plug in her rear hole.

Slowly, England receded beneath the clouds. Normally, she’d be in holiday mode by now, looking forward to the moment when she put on her bikini and stepped onto the beach for the first time, but already this was no normal holiday. Max was turning the pages of the in-flight magazine, seemingly oblivious to her plight. He spoke only to accept a glass of champagne for himself and another for Jessica from the flight attendant. Apart from that, she might as well have been travelling on her own for all the company he provided.

An hour into the flight, he finally addressed her. ‘I want you to go to the toilet,’ he told her.

Thank God, she sighed to herself. He’s going to let me take this wretched thing out. His next words told her she shouldn’t have expected things to be that simple.

‘You will take one of the flight attendants with you. Him –’ Max gestured with the corner of his magazine to the red-haired young man who was preparing a gin and tonic for the businessman in the seat across the aisle. ‘You will tell him you have a problem that needs urgently attending to, and then you will show him the plug in your arse and ask him to remove it for you. If he wants to do anything else to you, you will allow that.’

‘Max, what are you talking about? I’m not going to let a man I don’t even know fuck me, if that’s what you want.’

‘Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time,’ Max pointed out.

He had her there. She’d been happy enough to have sex with strangers on her terms, so why should she object if Max wanted her to do it on his? And looking at the flight attendant as he bent over to hand the businessman his drink, the fabric of his uniform trousers stretching across the firm moons of his arse, she realised the guy was pretty cute. Thinking of how it might be to have his cock sliding up inside her, she felt her arse clench around the metal plug, her pussy contracting in unison.

When she glanced back at Max, she noticed for the first time how his chinos strained at his crotch, moulded tight to his erection. This whole situation – making her peg her arse for the flight, ordering her to offer herself to another man – was turning him on.

‘Well, go on then, he’s free,’ Max said. ‘Just make sure you take the necessary precautions. I can trust you to do that, can’t I?’

Not quite able to believe what she was about to do, Jessica pressed the call button. Alerted by the light above her seat, the redheaded flight attendant came scurrying over.

‘Is everything OK, madam?’ he asked. His voice had an appealing Southern Irish lilt, and when he smiled, dimples appeared in both his cheeks.

‘I – I need your assistance with something.’ She had to force the words out. ‘Please would you accompany me to the toilet?’

If he was startled by the request, he didn’t show it. He merely said, ‘Are you having some kind of medical emergency, because I can put a call out in case there’s a doctor on board?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s nothing like that. If you come with me, I’ll explain, I promise.’

The attendant glanced round, satisfying himself that no one else might need his attention in the next few minutes. Then he said, ‘Lead the way.’

She picked up her shoulder bag, remembering Max’s warning about taking precautions. Then she stood and made her way to the first-class toilets, the attendant following a pace behind. No one in the half-empty cabin appeared to pay them the slightest attention. She pushed open the door of the first one she came to, and ushered him inside, locking the door securely behind them.

‘Now, if you wouldn’t mind telling me what this is about,’ he began, but she put a finger to his lips, shushing him.

‘Before we go any further, tell me your name,’ she said.

‘It’s Darragh.’

‘And I’m Jessica.’ Somehow, it felt important to establish some kind of connection between the two of them. She thought of Max, sitting in the cabin, waiting for her to give herself to this man. ‘And what I need you to do for me, it – it’s rather intimate.’

‘Really?’ He quirked an eyebrow, his tone betraying his enthusiasm.

‘Yes.’ Her throat dried as she tried to ask him to remove the plug. Unable to form the words, she simply bent over the sink, presenting her arse towards him. The invitation was unmistakable, and she felt him flip her skirt up onto her back, then hook his fingers in the waistband of her panties. He began to edge them down, stopping as he registered the sight of the gleaming jewel protruding from her bumhole.

‘What the –?’

Somehow, she found her voice. ‘I’ve been a bad girl,’ she told Darragh, ‘so my husband made me plug myself. Then he made me bring you in here. He wants you to take out the plug, and – and …’

He ran his fingers over the end of the plug, the motion sending fresh, hot waves of sensation rippling through Jessica’s rear passage.

‘I’ve never seen anything quite like this,’ he admitted. ‘And you say I’ve got your husband’s permission?’

‘Yes. You can do whatever you want to me.’

Darragh whistled under his breath, then returned his attention to the plug. Catching hold of the flanged end, he turned it in a slow circle, causing Jessica to cry out as it touched places inside her she’d never had stimulated before. Just that, and the feeling of being half-naked in an aeroplane toilet while a strange man played with her in such a fashion, was almost enough to have her coming where she stood. When his fingers strayed lower, to brush her pussy lips and the tight bud of her clit, he had to know that the wetness he found there wasn’t just lube.

‘God, you’re hot for this, aren’t you?’ he said.

Jessica could only gasp in response, as his touch on her clit became a pinch, and a small orgasm shuddered through her. She clutched at the sink, embarrassed at how easily this man had made her come.

‘Tell me what you want,’ he ordered her as he toyed with the plug again, his voice a harsh rasp. The small cubicle was heavy with the scent of Jessica’s juices and cherry lube.

‘Please – please take the plug out of my arse,’ she begged. ‘And put your cock in there instead.’ The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

‘Anything for the lady,’ Darragh said, sounding happy to oblige. Grasping the plug again, he eased it out with surprising gentleness and placed it on the sink unit, just out of her eyeline. As he unzipped his fly, Jessica hunted in her bag and brought out a condom.

‘The lady wants you to use this too,’ she told him, dropping to her knees in submissive fashion to pull his trousers and underwear down, and roll the condom on to his long, slim shaft. Once she had him sheathed to her satisfaction, she turned round, bending over the low toilet bowl and thrusting her rear end towards him.

‘That’s grand,’ he murmured, running his fingers over her upraised arse. Part of her reckoned he was imprinting the sight on his memory, so he could share with his friends the story of how he’d fucked a more than willing blonde in the arse at 30,000 feet. She couldn’t stop him bragging; nor did she want to. Somehow, it felt like another part of her punishment for all the times she’d cheated on Max.

For a moment, her thoughts drifted back to her husband. Would he even now be picturing what she and this handsome young flight attendant might be doing to each other? Would he ask for a description on her return, demanding every last sordid detail? Did he know how much she needed to be fucked right now?