His Little Tart (9 page)

If you don’t like what’s happening after you feel you’ve given it a good try, let me

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know. It won’t be your decision whether we continue or not, but I’m not here to have fun at your expense. I like giving women pleasure.”

He said the last with such feeling that she believed him. It put the whole episode with Laera and Bruce in a different light. He enjoyed giving women pleasure enough that he studied it and kept trying to learn more. That was a good thing. Most guys just hoped for the best, as far as she could tell. And the scene the day before with the ice cream and the chocolate fondue was enough to tell her he already knew plenty. He could and would satisfy her, and she was looking forward to it. The only thing that stuck in her craw was the word “women.” Not her, specifically, but any woman. Maybe dozens, or hundreds, even.

She supposed one didn’t get to be an expert without practice.

He opened his bag, took out two candles, and put them on the plates on the metal posts. Each post had a spike on top that went into the candles as he pressed them down.

He lit them, and the unmistakable smell of citronella wafted toward her.

“I put on bug spray,” she said.

“Everywhere?”

Well, no, not everywhere. She wasn’t going to strip in front of everyone in the dungeon. She shook her head.

“This dress looks beautiful on you. And you look beautiful in it.” He traced the neckline, brushing his fingers against the tops of her breasts.

“Does that mean I get to keep it on?” asked Constance hopefully.

“Not a chance. I’m just appreciating the wrapping paper before I open my present.” He grinned at her. She’d been so distracted by his hand touching her boobs she hadn’t noticed that he’d reached around and grabbed the zipper in the back. He pulled it down smoothly, and then tugged first one, then the other shoulder down her arms. He kissed her skin as he bared it: shoulders, breasts, belly. And when he’d pushed it over her hips, he squatted and kept it going down her legs. She stepped out of it, thankful she’d resisted Alex’s suggestion she go without panties.

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Then again, maybe he’d be taking those off too. She opened her mouth, intending to establish rules, guidelines, limits. But she’d remembered how carefully he’d kept to them the day before, leaving her wanting.
This time I want to be fucked and fucked hard. It’s been a long time.
So she didn’t say anything.

“Something wrong, my little tart?”

“Nothing at all, Sir.” She didn’t think she was a tart, but she smiled at the thought that she could be one for the next few hours. If there was any place she’d ever been where she could let go without it coming back to bite her, it had to be this crazy place.

But standing outside in her underwear felt pretty weird. “Why am I the only one taking my clothes off?”

“You aren’t. I have every intention of wearing nothing but a condom and your sweet pussy around me by the end of this. But I set the rules. And the pace. And you actually aren’t taking any clothes off at all.”

“Huh?” She was definitely not wearing the dress anymore.

“I’m doing all the work. We’ll keep it that way.” He unhooked her bra and pulled it off. He dropped it on top of her dress. She crossed her arms over her breasts.

He pulled one hand away, then slapped it. The sting sent the message. She dropped her arms. A part of her wanted to tell him he hadn’t negotiated the right to do that. He shouldn’t hit her without permission. But he hadn’t hurt her or even risked injuring her. She understood the rules. If she didn’t do what she was supposed to, she’d be punished. He’d impose his will and enforce his desires. His smoldering gaze swept her body. Obviously, he desired
her.
That made her feel sexy and want to yield to him.

He kissed her, pressing her against the tree. The bark was rough, but she wouldn’t have traded it for a soft bed. There was something primal about it. He could fuck her against a tree or on the ground without any civilization getting in the way. If he chose to overpower her, she wouldn’t resist. She wouldn’t shout her safe word.

“I knew I wanted you naked out here the moment I saw you in bare feet,” he said, his voice husky with desire. She could feel the hardness of his cock through his jeans.

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He hooked her panties and pulled them over her hips and let them slide down to the ground. She didn’t want them anymore, anyway. She kicked them off. She wanted him to make love to her, no, to fuck her hard and fast. Her pussy was wet for him. There was nothing standing in his way. She held his shoulders and lifted her legs, wrapping them around him and pulling him against her. She ground herself against the ridge in his jeans, enjoying the roughness of the fabric, the perfect counterpoint to the bark of the tree.

He grinned wider. He moved his hands to her breasts. He held her gaze. Each touch seemed to tap into a line that went straight to her pussy, and she could feel herself getting wetter, more aroused as he fondled and pinched. She didn’t want to admit how much he was getting to her, so she stared back. But eventually a moan, full of need, escaped her lips.

He kissed her. “Good girl. Let go now.”

She hesitated and got a swat on her bottom for her resistance. Her anger flared—if she was being good, why did she have to let go? But she surrendered. He was calling the shots.

He stepped back, unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off, and tossed on top of his bag.

His torso was magnificent, with sharply defined pecs and lines of abs. She’d thought him slender, but his biceps were as wide as her legs. No wonder he could lift her so casually. He didn’t pose or seem selfconscious. His undressing was unselfconscious, and when he was done, he held her in his arms again. For a moment, it seemed as if they were more like lovers than two strangers indulging their fantasies together. But she couldn’t let herself think like that. The fact that she was submitting to him, even letting him spank her when she didn’t do things as he directed, was not the biggest inequality between them. This was the sort of thing he did—take a woman into the woods and strip her and have his way with her—and it wasn’t the sort of thing she let a man do at all. He’d move on to someone else. She had to be able to do that too.

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Still, his strong, hard chest felt good tight against her breasts, and his arms felt good around her shoulders. He pressed his lips to hers, and she had to look up to meet him. His eyes were open, as if they were drinking her in. She closed hers, wanting to lose herself in the sensation but not lose her soul to his gaze.

He let her go and reached into his bag once more. This time, he retrieved a long line of rope, neatly knotted for storage. If it wasn’t the same rope he’d had around Laera, it was one just like it. He was going to tie her up, and she was going to let him, even though she ought to run. Her heart pounded. They’d gone over safety and how she could call for help. How people might be by to see. But being outdoors added to the sense of danger. And perversely, the fear added to her arousal. She hadn’t anticipated that. She hoped that was only because her rational brain had already decided she was fine, that precautions had been taken, but she wasn’t sure. Maybe she liked the risk.

He unraveled the rope with one pull, doubled it up, and wrapped it around her torso below her breasts. She’d expected him to tie her to the tree, but he hadn’t. His next wraps crossed the tops of her breasts. She held her hands up, hoping it was easier for him if she kept them out of the way. Around her body he wound the ropes. It looked similar to what he’d been doing with Laera, but he moved with far more confidence than she would have expected if he still needed practice. She gasped as the ropes ran around her breasts. She wouldn’t have thought there was enough to tie, but he’d managed, and her breasts stood out from her body now, her nipples hard and jutting.

He finished tying with a knot in the middle and then brushed a knuckle against one of her peaks.

She nearly jumped. She half expected having her tits tied like that would have cut off some circulation and made them numb; instead, they were even more sensitive. He smiled at her reaction, obviously satisfied, and then he stroked the other peak. It was like an electric shock, and the sensations reverberated all the way to her core. The ropes hadn’t cut off circulation, and they sure as hell hadn’t cut off the connection between her nipples and her pussy. He kissed her softly on the lips and then stroked her breasts.

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A pinch and another kiss. He was driving her crazy. His touches were so intimate, and yet they’d never get her off. And the more he touched her, the more she wanted to come.

“You love having your tits played with, don’t you, my little tart?”

“Hate it.”

This time he slapped her breast. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, just to sting, the feeling intensified by the ropes. “Love it, Sir,” she said.

“Always tell me the truth.” His smile was soft, but his eyes were serious.

“Maybe I don’t want to tell myself the truth.”

“That’s why you need to tell me. So you can overhear. I could spend all day playing with your tits, but I want my hands free for the rest of you. Turn around, reach your hands around the tree, and clasp them together.”

She did as directed, even though she was tempted to disobey. She tried to figure out that one; it would only earn her another swat on the bottom or somewhere else. It wouldn’t change what happened. Then she realized she actually wanted the spanking.

She’d managed to grab her hand when she stopped, let go, and wiggled her ass at him.

“I’m going to spank your ass whether you obey or not,” he told her, his voice unreadably cold.

She grabbed her hands. She didn’t want him mad at her.

“Good little tart,” he told her. Her heart warmed at the praise, which was silly. She shouldn’t care that much what he thought. And she certainly didn’t think she should be smiling at being called a tart, good or otherwise. But she was.

He had another length of rope in his hands when he came into her view, this one much shorter. The position she was in pressed her breasts against the bark of the tree.

For a tree, it was pretty smooth, but it was rougher than his fingers, and the tips of her breasts were very sensitive. She tried to stay still to avoid rubbing them, because the

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movement created pain. But the pain felt like pleasure too. She felt too good to object to the confusion.

He tied her wrists together. She pulled to see if she could undo it, but they were secure, and the tree was thick enough around that she couldn’t pull back and ease the pressure on her breasts either. She was stuck.

“Why are you going to spank me even though I did what you told me to do?” she asked. It didn’t seem fair, even though she wanted it. If she didn’t understand her own reactions, she hoped at least to understand his.

“Because I don’t want you disobeying me in order to get a spanking. And I’ve seen how you react.”

Was she that obvious? Apparently. She closed her eyes and relaxed. She wasn’t sure she liked being so easy to read, and yet the fact that he seemed to know her as well as she knew herself—better in some ways—made it easy to give him control.

He slipped his hand between her belly and the tree. She thought he might bring her off with his fingers. She didn’t think it would be difficult. But he didn’t. His other hand touched her shoulder briefly, then drifted down her back. Then it left her. She tensed for a blow on her bottom, but instead, he palmed her mound, one finger resting against her clit. She grinned and bent at the knees, trying to rub against him.

Fire blossomed on her bottom, his hand all that stopped her sensitive parts from grinding against the tree. It stung more than the swats he had given her before, but with his finger on her clit, it was powerfully erotic; the pain turned into pleasure and made her wetter. Then it faded, and she waited for the next one. Impatient, even though it hadn’t been more than a couple of seconds, she pushed her butt back out for him, reminding him of his target. It was either that or push forward, but she had a feeling his finger would go away if she tried to use it to get off. Besides, it would be too embarrassing to seek an orgasm so openly.

Pushing her ass back pushed her breasts forward and rubbed her sensitive nipples against the tree. The next swat caused her to move her bottom forward and gave her

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chest some relief, but it ground her clit against his finger. It was almost too much either place, and so she rocked back again, only to have him land another swat. Her bottom was glowing warmly, but the touch on her pussy and nipples were like fire, sending sparks all through her body.

His body nudged her side. She was aware of his erection against her hip. She lost count of the number of times his palm had struck her bottom and how often the sharp sting faded to a warm glow. Her pussy wanted to be filled, but even without that, she wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer as the sensations from her bottom, her breasts, and her clit all combined and swirled inside her. She tried to rub his cock with her side, but she couldn’t focus. Everything else was too much. Too good.

It started in her pussy, rocked through her core, and took over every muscle in her body. She couldn’t hold back as she ground against his hand. Her tits felt like they were on fire, but it was a good flame, a pleasure overload. Her pussy clenched. His skillful fingers kept her orgasm going, his palm resting against the lower curve of her bottom but not delivering another blow.