Rich Promise (2 page)

“You’re done. Grab a towel and wait for me on the bed.” His tone is formal and rather clipped as he issues his instructions. He slides the door to the cubicle open to allow me to leave.

Obedient as always at these moments, I slip past him, reaching for one of the fluffy towels supplied by Grace and now warming on my towel rail. I wrap it around myself before replacing it with another from the bale stacked beside the vanity unit. I’m sure Dan will appreciate a nice warm towel too, and it’s the least I can do for my Dom.

His slight nod is his only acknowledgment of my gesture, but it’s enough to send a warm glow to my lower regions as I pad barefoot across my bedroom carpet. I grab another, smaller towel on my way and wrap that around my head turban-style. I should try to get at least some of the wetness from my hair before he arrives, and I doubt I have more than a couple of minutes.

I immediately spot the items scattered on the bed, but resist the temptation to investigate more closely. I need to prepare. I sit on the end of the bed and give my hair a vigorous rub to get the dripping water from it then I drag a comb quickly through. Another squeeze in the towel, and that will have to do. I lean down to dry my feet, then rub myself all over inside the thick bath sheet. I consider applying something nice and scented, but instinctively decide against it. Dan’s been very particular about testing for allergies and exploring my body’s sensitivity, and any additional chemicals might react with the oil. Dan can have my natural, unadorned self this evening. I rather think he’ll prefer that.

As ready as I can be, I drop the towel and clamber into the center of my bed. Now, I can examine Dan’s ‘gifts’.

The red silk rope is coiled neatly. It’s a bright scarlet color, very vivid. It’ll offer a strong contrast against my dark oak bedposts. The pack of condoms is obvious enough, though I’m not sure we’ll be using as many in the future, having broken our duck, so to speak, in the shower. The red silk blindfold looks quite nice, and will match the rope very prettily. I decide I’d much rather wear that than a gag. The oil itself is in a small glass bottle on my new bedside table, next to my gold clit clip. I wonder if he intends to use both on me this evening.

The final item bothers me. It’s a whip of some sort, more like a riding crop really. The handle is short, the lash made of braided leather. It doesn’t look to be new, and I speculate on how many submissives before me have enjoyed its attentions. I pick it up, turn it over in my hands. It’s light, very supple, but it looks mean. I lay it back on the bed, eying it with distaste. He’s brought it for a reason, though, and I shudder slightly. I trust Dan—I really do—but I suspect that trust could soon be seriously tested

“That’s a quirt. Originally from Spain, I believe, but I acquired it from an over-enthusiastic young jockey at York a couple of years ago.” Dan saunters through from the shower room, his towel knotted loosely at his waist.

Despite my current trepidation I can’t help admiring his superb physique. I watch, fascinated, as the remaining rivulets of water roll down his chest to be absorbed into the towel.

“You look unhappy suddenly. Tell me what you’re thinking, Summer.” He sits on the edge of the bed, his head tilted to one side as he waits for my answer.

“The quirt. Is it meant for horses then?”

“Not specifically. Horses, donkeys, dogs even. It amounts to cruelty, ill treatment. I always confiscate these things if I come across them.”

“Why is it cruel to use the quirt on a horse, but you intend to use it on me?”

“A horse can’t consent. Or use a safe word. The quirt is an instrument of discipline, though, in my experience, rather than pleasure. You
will
feel it at some stage. That’s inevitable, but probably not that often. It’s here because I’d like you to find a safe place for it, a place you’ll be able to lay your hands on it easily when I ask you to. Would you do that, Summer?”

Our eyes meet, he holds my gaze. This is it. This is where I consent to accept his authority, including allowing him to use that quirt on me if—when—he decides I’ve earned it. My buttocks clench as I slowly nod, my eyes never leaving his. Despite my fear—and I
am
afraid of what I’m getting into, I have no illusions about that—my pussy is moistening traitorously. He has such a profound effect on me. Just his words can reduce me to a wet, quivering mess.

“Do you have any other questions? About any of the other items here?”

“A blindfold? But no gag?”

“No gag. We won’t need it.”

“I’m not to be screaming then?” I sag in relief.

He sees, smiles wickedly. “Oh, I think you will. You always do. But Grace is watching television and Nathan’s staying in Leeds tonight. Eva’s taken the girls over there to see him—I gather they’re going to the cinema. So, no one will hear you. Except me, of course, and I quite like to listen to your screams.” He shifts up the bed to settle himself against the headboard, tugging a pillow out from under the duvet to prop it behind him. “You can make as much noise as you like, love. Any other questions?”

I shake my head and lower my gaze to study my hands, loosely folded on my thighs.

“Are you still pleased to see me?”

I look up sharply. “Yes, of course. I’ve missed you so much, Sir. How long will you be able to stay?”

“Just overnight. I need to go back tomorrow morning.”

I hang my head again, disappointed. I’d hoped to have at least a few days. He reaches for my chin, lifting it with his fingertips. “I have to work this weekend. What about you? Do you get the weekend off?”

“Yes, I expect so. I work full-time, but the hours are sort of flexible. I get most weekends off, I think.”

“You could come to see me then. Drive up on Friday night, stay till Sunday, or even Monday morning if Nathan doesn’t need you here first thing.”

“I… You mean, to stay with you, Sir?”

“Of course to stay with me. I don’t expect you to be checking into a hotel.”

“I don’t even know where you live.”

“Keswick. I’ll give you the address.”

“I’d like that. And I’ll ask Nathan about Monday morning.” I smile brightly. It’s all I can do not to hug myself at the sudden surge of happiness bubbling through my tummy. “Thank you, Sir.”

He smiles. “So sedate, so calm, so very dignified. I think we need to loosen you up a bit, my sweet slut. While you were busy inspecting the toys I left out for you, did you think to check under the bed?”

“No, Sir. Should I have?”

He shrugs. “No matter. If you had, you’d have spotted the spreader bar. You’ll find out all about it soon enough, though. Shall we start?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m ready.”

“Oh, you think so, do you? You’ll be a great deal readier by the time I’m through with you.” He swings his long legs to the floor and drops the towel. He strides over to the padded ottoman below the window to retrieve his jeans from the pile of his clothing discarded there. He must have come in here, dumped his toys and undressed before coming through to join me in the shower. He steps back into the jeans. Pulling them up, he fastens the zip but not the button on the waistband. He lifts his gaze to meet mine once more. His expression is serious now, deadly stern, and I know he means business. The transformation to pure Dom is swift and complete. My stomach churns, my pussy clenches. I’m loving it.

Dan crouches to pull something from under the bed. It’s a metal bar, made of shiny chrome with heavy leather cuffs at either end. He drops it onto the bed behind me.

“I’m going to tie your hands behind your back first. With the sweet silk rope, of course. Your wrists, please…”

I don’t hesitate. Moving into a kneeling position I place my hands in the small of my back, and Dan quickly ties my wrists together. He tugs the restraint to check that it’s going to hold. He seems satisfied.

“That’s good. If it feels painful at all, you’re to tell me. Got that?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now, I need you to spread your knees as far apart as you can and lean forward.”

I do as he told me, conscious that my bottom and pussy are on display for him. Which is, of course, the intention. Dan wraps one of the large leather cuffs attached to the spreader bar around my right leg, just above my knee. He fastens it securely, then turns to attach the other to my left leg. I’m effectively immobilized.

“A bit wider still, I think. I’m going to extend the bar a little more. I need you to relax and let me open your legs fully. Okay?”

“Yes, Sir.” I’m not convinced I can spread my thighs any wider, but Dan clearly has other ideas. I do my best to relax as he adjusts the bar to widen my stance to his satisfaction.

He completes his preparations quickly and stands back to look at me. “Are you comfortable, Summer?”

“I wouldn’t say comfortable exactly, Sir.”

“I see. What would you say then?”

“I feel exposed, Sir. And very nervous.”

“That’s all good. And by the way, I meant to say while we were in the shower, how much I appreciate your attention to personal grooming. This is very pretty. Did you do this for me?”

“Thank you, Sir. And yes, I did. I wanted to please you.”

A couple of days ago I made a never-to-be forgotten visit to a beauty salon in Leeds for a Brazilian wax. It was a painful experience, embarrassing to the core, but afterwards I had to admit I rather liked the result. I’m pleased that Dan does too. I feel so clean and cool now, and utterly naked.

“You do please me, Summer. Very much. Your bum’s rather pale, though, just now. I can soon do something about that. Would you like me to?”

“Yes please, Sir.”
God, when did I get so uninhibited?
Who would have thought it?

Dan for one. “And your pussy’s already wet, I think. Are you having slutty thoughts so soon, Summer?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps. Is that all right, Sir?”

“I guess we’ll have to put up with it, because you really can’t help yourself, can you? So, am I right? Are you wet?”

“I think so, Sir. Probably.”

“Maybe I should check.”

I have no opportunity to reply, though my response would have been along the lines of ‘please do feel free’. And Dan does most certainly feel free. He plunges three fingers into my cunt, curling them inside me to caress my G-spot unerringly. It’s intense and very accurate, my body spread out and held in place for him to explore and use as he likes. I’m not sure which is the more erotic—the touch of his fingers, filling me, stretching me, or the knowledge that I’m effectively helpless and totally vulnerable to whatever he chooses to do.

“Thought so, dripping wet and beautifully tight. Would you like me to fuck you again, slut?”

“Yes, Sir, I would like that. Very much.”

“Yes, I can tell. All in good time. First, I have a little treat for you.”

He pulls his fingers from my body and reaches across me to take the small glass bottle from beside the bed. “Just a little at first, I think, around your pretty lips. I’m a nice guy, and this is your first time, so I’ll give you a few minutes to get used to how it feels before I spread it on your clit too. Now, that
will
make you squeal.”

The sound of the oil splashing inside the bottle tells me it’s almost time. The faint click as he drops the cap onto the bedside table tells me it’s now.

Dan shifts his body so he’s facing my bum, and slips his right arm around my waist. He holds the bottle in his left hand, and I hear the liquid slop about again as he turns it upside down. This time I assume he’s using his finger as the stopper. He uses the fingers of his right hand to part my pussy lips, and smears the oil along them. It’s both hot and cold at the same time, a curious sensation of intense heat that warms but doesn’t burn—not quite—spreading quickly as Dan works the oil into my delicate skin. He pauses, I hear the sloshing of the liquid again and concentrate on not moving as he applies more of it to my pussy lips.

He places the bottle back on the bedside table and seems to be satisfied for now. My pussy feels to be on fire, the sensation not quite painful but still intense and uncomfortable. I can’t suppress a small whimper as the oil seeps into my tender, sensitive tissues.

“You’ll soon get used to it. How does this feel?” Dan draws his fingers along my throbbing cunt, the touch somehow exquisite and tormenting at the same time.

I want him to rub me, hard, even though I know that might hurt.
Will
hurt.

He knows exactly what’s happening for me. He increases the pressure of his fingers just a little, and I squeal. “Oh, God, Sir. That feels…”

“Tell me what it feels like, Summer. Find a word.”

“It feels hot. Really hot.”

“Too hot?”

“I…no, no, not too hot. Oh, Dan, Sir—I want you to rub me please. Could you press on harder?”

“Like this?” He increases the pressure a little more, but it’s still not enough. I start to gyrate my hips, seeking even greater friction.

“Mmm, I think you’re getting acclimatized. Now for your clit.”

“No, Sir, I don’t think…”

“Safe word or shut up, Summer. You know how this works by now.” Dan’s tone is curt, his words sharp.

I stop my protests. I have no intention at all of using my safe word. He knows it. I know it.

“I’m sorry, Sir. Please continue.”

I manage to remain perfectly still as he re-applies the oil to his finger then spreads it slowly all over my swollen clit. He re-coats his fingertip for good measure, rubbing yet more of the sharp scented oil into the tender nub. My clit is throbbing, and Dan rolls it between his fingers mercilessly, every squeeze and tug and stroke heightening my awareness of the tingling, sizzling oil. Every nerve ending feels to be prickling with awareness. Dan’s touch is light, almost imperceptible now. He’s teasing me, drawing out my response. He’s going to make me beg. I know it. And I will.

He draws his thumb slowly across the tip of my clit then angles his hand to scrape me with his thumbnail.

“Oh God, oh, Dan. Please, I need…”

“You need to remember your manners, my slut. Who are you talking to?” That chilly Dom tone, so soft, so stern. So utterly commanding.