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Authors: Ashe Barker

Tags: #Erotic Romance Fiction

Rich Promise (10 page)

BOOK: Rich Promise
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“Do you want to keep the plug a bit longer?”

“Yes. I want your cock
and
the plug, Sir.”

“So, you’ve become attached to it. And greedy too. What am I going to do with you?”

“Anything, Sir, anything. But please, fuck me now.”

“When you put it so delicately, how could I turn you down?”

I gasp as Dan slips his hands under my stomach to raise my bum up a little more before setting me down on his cock. He slides into my pussy, balls deep, and rotates his hips to settle me there. I’m gasping, impossibly full. I can feel his cock right through to my arse, only a narrow barrier of flesh separating his solid erection from the plug. He gives me no time to adjust before he starts to thrust, his movements slow at first, but quickly gaining in strength and ferocity.

“Oh God, Sir…”

“Just Sir will do, girl.”

“I mean, I mean, oh…”

“Fuck, that’s good. So tight.”

“Yes, please, Sir, harder, faster…” I’m gasping my pleas, almost incoherent as my pleasure builds.

I’m desperate, needy, clenching wildly around him as he plunges his cock into me. My orgasm starts deep down in my lower abdomen, tightening, coiling, poised and ready to burst. Dan’s cock lurches, twitches hard and sharp inside me. He plunges forward one last time, planting himself deep as his own release takes over. I’m quivering and spasming around him as his semen surges out of his cock and fills me, its wet hotness swilling across my cervix and the walls of my pussy.

I would flop forwards, but Dan’s hands are around my waist, holding me in place. Slowly he retreats, withdrawing his cock, and only then does he allow me to sink into the rug. He lowers my body gently. I lie face down, dimly aware of the clink of metal as Dan unlocks the handcuffs. He rubs my wrists, his touch brisk and efficient as he restores the circulation fully to my aching muscles. He kneels alongside me as I roll onto my back.

 

Chapter Five

 

 

 

“Still insisting on keeping the plug?”

“What?”

“The plug. Let me take it out now.”

I’d forgotten it was there. How odd. I lift my knees and Dan slips his arm under them to roll my bum up off the rug. He leans around to seize the finger grip again, and this time pulls the plug smoothly from my body. He tosses it to one side, no doubt for me to see to the washing and disinfecting later. Dan sets great store by hygiene and I know my responsibilities in all this.

He moves to lie alongside me.

“You okay?”

I smile at him and nod.

“No problems with the gag?”

“Not after the first few seconds.” I look up at him, perhaps a little sheepish. “I would have made a lot of noise, Sir.”

“I know you would. Those first few minutes with the oil are a bitch. Still, worth it in the end?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

I take moment to wonder how he would know, though it’s obvious really. This isn’t the first time he’s done this with a submissive, he must have seen how others reacted before me.

He turns to drop a kiss on my lips, and it’s then I realize he’s still fully dressed. How does he manage this every time? I dismiss that question as I turn to snuggle into his chest, sinking my fingers into the fabric of his shirt.

“Tired?”

I am. Exhausted.
“Yes, Sir. What time is it?”

“About half-past seven, I think. Why? Somewhere you need to be?”

“Bed. I could sleep for a week.”

“Shall I carry you up there?”

It’s a tempting prospect, but I’m happy just where I am. “Later. Could we just cuddle on the sofa for now? Is that all right, I mean, you do cuddles, don’t you?”

“Yes, sweetheart, I think you know I do cuddles.”

He does too. Sweet, beautiful, sensual cuddles. He lifts me onto the sofa then stretches out alongside me, cradling me in his arms. I’m asleep in seconds

 

* * * *

 

I awaken to silence. I roll over, stretch out my hand, but the other side of the bed is cool and empty. I’m alone.

I pry my eyes open, look across to Dan’s side of the bed to make sure. He isn’t there. I push myself up onto my elbow, shove the hair from my eyes and scan the bedside table for the clock.

Nine-twenty. And he’s left me a note. I reach for the sticky note pasted to the front of the radio beside the clock.

 

Had a call from the park. Marmoset in labor. Text me when you wake up.

 

Marmoset? What on earth is one of those?
Whatever, it clearly needs Dan more than I do at this moment. I can make my own coffee if pushed. I shove off the duvet and sit on the edge of the bed. I’m naked, still aching in one or two interesting places, but I feel refreshed. I need coffee, a shower, clothes. But first I need my phone.

I grab one of Dan’s shirts from his wardrobe and pad off down the stairs in search of my bag. I switch on the kettle, then text Dan

 

I’m awake. Any idea when you’ll be back? What’s a marmoset?

 

I’m sipping my coffee, inhaling the caffeine gratefully when my phone pings.

 

A monkey. Did a caesarean. Still tied up though. Be a while yet. Sorry.

 

I read the message, and smile. I don’t mind amusing myself for a while, and it’s nice that he apologizes to me. I hadn’t expected that.

 

No problem. I might go for a walk.
Not asking permission. Not quite.

 

Lake’s nice. If it rains, try Pencil Museum

 

He means Derwentwater, the lake on the edge of the town center. I’ve been there before, once or twice. I might stroll down there later then, could even hop on one of those cruise boats and do a spot of sightseeing. The Pencil Museum doesn’t appeal much. I went there on a school trip as a child and got told off for touching things in the gift shop. I continue to mull over the possibilities as I shower and towel my hair dry.

Of course, the one place I desperately want to go is the Childrens’ Services offices in Carlisle, but that will have to wait. At least Dan’s absence means I don’t have to concentrate on maintaining the pretense that everything’s fine. I made a crap enough job of that yesterday—I know he saw straight through me but decided not to call me on it. He wouldn’t let me off a second time, I’m sure of that. But he’s busy with his marmosets or whatever, so I don’t need to pretend that there’s nothing on my mind, no nagging worry about what’s happening to my sisters, what may have already happened while I was away. No agonizing over what my mother might have been up to and what might happen to her.

I dress in jeans and a warm sweater, and borrow an outdoor jacket of Dan’s, which I find hanging beside the door. He’s well equipped for Lake District weather. I should be, but somehow I never got into fell-walking. I like to look at the scenery, not hike through it in the rain.

I text Dan again as I set off.

 

Going to the lake. Might take a boat trip.

 

His reply is in just a few seconds.
Sounds good. Don’t fall in

 

* * * *

 

The scenery around Derwentwater is truly stunning, a moody landscape immortalized by Beatrix Potter. I loved her stories as a child, and I can still remember her tales of chirpy little woodland creatures, their lives carved out of this changing yet timeless place. Wordsworth too took his inspiration from here, though I was always less fond of his works. Derwentwater is not one of the largest lakes but in my view, it’s one of the prettiest. The water can be ferocious in bad weather but the gentle ripples are calm and totally peaceful today, mirroring the hills of Borrowdale beyond.

The normal holiday season ended a few weeks ago, so it’s just the hardened walkers and a few foreign tourists today, but otherwise I have the place pretty much to myself. I walk down into Keswick town center, then through the pretty little park to the lakeside. I’m just in time to hop on one of the cruise launches, so I buy a ticket and join the half dozen or so others enjoying the late autumn sunshine on the top deck.

I sit on my own, near the front, idly watching the browns and golds of the season drift past me. The voice over the loudspeaker system tells of stately homes on the north shore, places frequented by a young Beatrix Potter. It tells of islands, one of which still has the ruins of an ancient long-dead house peeping from the undergrowth. I glance across, half listening as we pass Derwent Isle, St Herbert’s island, Ransholme island. I wonder how long before Dan can get away, his marmoset babies safely delivered. Despite my relief at not having to concentrate on looking happy and untroubled I do miss his company, not to mention his heavy palm prints on my bottom. Hopefully he’ll be back in time…

I pull out my phone and text him again.

 

I’m on a boat. Lovely day. Missing you.

 

The answer is not long in coming.
Leaving soon. Back in about 2 hours.

 

I’ll still be on the boat. Wait for me.

 

See you on the jetty

 

I hug myself, excited. The rest of the trip passes in a happy blur of anticipation.

Dan’s easy to pick out as the motor cruiser makes its way back across the lurching ripples toward the mooring at Keswick. A lone figure, tall, in dark leathers, he’s leaning against his motorbike. I wave as soon as he comes into view, and he lifts his hand in a return salute. I’m grinning like a fool by the time the boat lands. I fly down the gangplank and launch myself at him. He lifts me and swings me around, before planting me back on my feet and kissing me thoroughly. We’re both oblivious to the handful of tourists trooping across the mooring toward the car park, eager to be reunited in every possible way.

“Nice trip.” Dan mutters the words into my ear, his urgency graphically illustrated by the hard bulge under his leather biker’s trousers.

“Yes, Sir. But it’s good to be back. By the way, I like you in leather.” I check over my shoulder that the trickle of tourists have dispersed before I reach down to stroke the promising looking erection, encouraged as it swells further under my hand.

“You may not like me as much out of it. I seem to recall that your skin responds well to leather too. The tawse, I think…” He pats my bottom.

I snuggle close against the buttery softness of his jacket, inhaling the pungent scent of the hide. “When you used your belt, that time in Leeds, it was a punishment. Are you angry with me now?”

“No, Summer. I’m pleased to see you. I thought you’d spotted that already.”

“I did.” I caress his cock through his trousers, gratified as it leaps under my palm. “So, why the tawse?” I’m not scared, not of Dan, but still, the leather strap looked a bit severe.

“It’s not the instrument, it’s how it’s used. I can punish you with the tawse if you deserve that, teach you a lesson you’ll never forget. Or I can arouse you so much you forget your own name. I intend to demonstrate that to you. Later.”

“Later? Why not now?”

“Because I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since seven o’clock this morning. Come on.”

Leaving the bike balanced on its stand, he tugs me across the car park toward the National Trust tea room. He orders a pot of tea for two, a pile of sandwiches, and a couple of scones with a tub of cream. We tuck in—well, Dan does mainly. I grabbed a cup of soup earlier at one of the motor launch stopping off points. I do help him out with the cream scones though, always a weakness of mine.

We chat. He tells me about his marmosets, and the wallaby that the keepers thought was under the weather. Dan gave it an antibiotic injection and he’ll look in on it again tomorrow. I’m seeing the Dan I first met, really getting to know him. I’m very familiar with the Dom, now I’m coming to better understand the conscientious vet—the vet who comes out to a deserted car park to treat an injured badger just because some member of the public has turned up after hours. He loves his work, really cares for the animals, does his best for them. I recall the quirt. He told me he confiscated it from an over-zealous young jockey, to protect defenseless horses.
Would he care for me as well?
I believe he would. I’m glowing inside as we make our way back to our vehicles.

“See you at home. I’ll have the tawse ready and warmed up by the time you arrive.” Dan kisses me before he pulls his crash helmet on and starts the bike with a powerful kick.

I follow him out of the car park, but he’s gone by the time I reach the next corner, just a distant roar of his engine echoing in the still air.

 

* * * *

 

I lock the Discovery outside Dan’s house, then skirt his bike as I make my way to the door. It’s ajar, so I push it and walk in.

I’m grabbed from behind, whirled around and slammed against the back of the door. Dan’s mouth is slanting across mine before I have a chance to utter so much as a squeak of surprise. His tongue is in my mouth, swirling, tasting. I catch it in my teeth and suck it. His hand is at my waist. He slips it under my jacket and upwards to cup my breast. His fingers are still cool from the bike ride. I gasp and release his tongue.

Relentless, he pushes the cup of my bra down to free my breast, covers it with his chilled palm. My nipple swells and hardens instantly. Dan breaks the kiss, but only to bury his face in my neck.

“You smell so good, little sub. And you’re mine, all mine.”

“Yours, Sir.” The only proper response, I think. Despite his cold hands.

“I want you naked.” He steps back from me. “Now.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Moments later my clothes are in a pile at our feet in the hallway. Dan’s hands may have been cold, perhaps still are, but his eyes are all heat and lust as he watches me undress, then stand before him, waiting for his next command. His expression, so full of intent, frightens me, maybe a little, and excites me—a lot. I love that I can have this effect on him. His effect on me is devastating.

“Follow me.” He turns and walks away from me down the hall. He doesn’t look back, he knows I’ll be behind him. He leads the way into the dining room, an annex to the lounge. The tawse is on the table. Dan turns to me.

BOOK: Rich Promise
11.61Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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