Naughty Bedtime Stories: In Three Words Page 5

  He doesn’t look happy. “Is there someone I could see who has more…experience?”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “They sent you to me, so I’m who you’re getting. If you don’t like it you can leave. But I’ll still need the money. You’ve wasted my time when I could be with another client.”

  For a second, he looks like he’s considering leaving – without paying, I might add. Then he checks me out, slowly, and bites the corner of his lip. His hard-on seems incongruous to this discussion. “Are you sure you can do Sub? You’re very stubborn.”

  I smile sweetly and get on my knees. Looking up at him, I hold out my hands for him to bind. “Is this alright…Master? Or would you prefer Sir?”

  His nostrils flare, and his eyes take on a sharp-edged hunger. “Colton will do. Where are the ties?”

  Ah, yes. His form said he likes Binding. I’d thought that meant he likes to be tied up – only now I know I’m the one who is going to be tied up. I tilt my head toward the metal cabinet at the back of the room. That’s where I keep all my toys. He moves toward it and opens up the doors. I stay where I am, like a good little Sub girl, while he rummages around to find something he likes.

  I’m admittedly quite nervous; while I’ve never played Sub in my work here, I’d done it once with an ex-lover, and it hadn’t really worked out – hence why he was ex. I’m not good at taking orders.

  Colton returns with a handful of silk ties and the riding crop I’d laid on the chair. He lifts an eyebrow. “There’s no bed,” he points out.

  “No, there isn’t. It keeps some of my newer clients from getting the wrong idea about what’s going to happen in our session. I’m not a prostitute. I don’t sleep with clients.” Although, I add mentally, I could make an exception for you.

  He looks down at me on my knees before him, my breasts spilling out of my PVC corset, and mutters, “Pity.”

  I bite my lip to keep from saying something sassy and inappropriate. I’m the Sub here. I shouldn’t even still be talking. He looks around and spots the metal rings embedded in the wall at the other end of the room. I’ve rarely had occasion to use them, but it looks like he will.

  “Over there,” he commands, jerking his chin toward the rings.

  I do as I’m told and get to my feet, walking to the wall. I turn to face him and he barks, “Face the wall.”

  Swallowing my anxiety, I turn to the wall and wonder what he’s going to do to me. He takes my left wrist and ties a silk scarf around it, then lifts my arm and ties the other end of the scarf to ring above my head. As he does the same with my other arm so I’m posed with my arms sticking in a vee, my breasts pressed into the wall, he asks, “What’s your safety word?”

  “Red.”

  He nods and backs up. From the corner of my eye, I can just see his arm move as he lifts the crop. I close my eyes and prepare for the blow. It lands on the small of my back, a quick sting, no more than a love tap, but I know it’s going to get worse. My Dom ex-lover used to leave some pretty nasty bruises. When he started doing that, I started arguing that he was hitting me too hard, and our Sub-Dom relationship fell apart.

  The next blow is still light, landing just above the last one, and the next two strokes are equally gentle. I turn my head so I can almost see him over my shoulder and scowl. “You’re going easy ‘cause you don’t think I can take it. Trust me, I can take it.”

  “I didn’t say you could speak, Sub,” he grunts, and his next blow is a little harder. I feel the burn of the mark it leaves across my back. The next blow makes me yelp. That brief sting of pain makes my toes curl. I’d forgotten the pleasure of this.

  “Stand with your legs apart,” Colton demands, and I slide my legs apart so I’m stretched into an X. My butt sticks out and I already know his next target. The leather tip of the crop smacks my left butt-cheek and I tip my head back. He hits again, a little harder, on my right butt-cheek, and I moan, “Harder.”

  “No talking!” he barks, and lands a swift blow across both cheeks. My legs tremble and my shoulders are starting to ache, but I’m enjoying this. I lean my forehead against the wall, breathing hard.

  Suddenly, he’s pressed against my back, his erection lying between my cheeks, and the crop comes up between my legs to nip me in the most sensitive spot. I yelp in pain and surprise, and he grunts, drawing the leather tip up and down, stroking me through my wet panties. He flicks the crop twice quickly against my swollen clit and I shudder in delight.

  His breath is hot against my neck, his body hard and rigid against my back. His hips are moving almost of their own accord, rubbing his hardness against my ass. This is the most full-on I’ve ever been with a client, and it almost feels real. Dangerous. I can’t let the boundaries between me and the client blur. But damn, Colton isn’t some Sub begging me for one more whip. He’s strong and demanding. He’s a Dominant. And fuck, that turns me on.

  Then my watch beeps loudly, and I jump. “Time’s up,” I mutter.

  Colton stays where he is, pressed against my back, for a moment, and then pushes away with a grunt to untie my hands. My arms drop to my sides, my shoulders aching, and my back stinging from his blows. I’m aching between my legs too, and I know that as soon as I get home, I’m hopping in the shower with my good friend, Mr. Jellybean the Waterproof Wand.

  I straighten up and turn around. Colton is already getting dressed and I hate to see that magnificent ass covered up by those loose jeans. He pulls on his t-shirt and boots, and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a wad of cash, and I take it, feeling a little guilty. That session was as good for me as it was for him. It almost seems wrong to charge him for it.

  But I take the money. I have bills like everyone else, and an expensive shoe habit to pay for. Thigh-high boots don’t come cheap, and neither does the third-floor apartment I’m living in. It’s £800 a month in rent, and I live alone if you don’t count my fat cat, Bagpuss.

  As Colton is about to leave, I ask him, “Will you be back for another session?” I’m really hoping he says yes.

  He looks at me and smiles for the first time. It’s a wicked curl of his lips, and it makes me desperate to have that salacious mouth between my legs. “Yes. I think I will.”

  Three

  As I lie in the warm, bubbly bathwater, limp and sated thanks to Mr. Jellybean, I sip a glass of Bucksfizz and breathe in the vanilla aroma of my bath cream. Bagpuss is curled on the closed toilet lid, dosing in the steam. Perverted cat always likes to watch me bathe.

  I lay my head back and close my eyes, sinking into the bubbles up to my chin. I can’t stop thinking about Colton. His hard body and hard whipping. His forest-green eyes and the hunger in them as he stared down at me on my knees. Thinking about it, I can almost feel his hot breath on my neck, his cock against my ass.

  I’m horny again. I sit up and set my glass down on the edge of the bath, and eye Mr. Jellybean, propped behind the taps. But no. I want something more delicate, more intimate. So I part my knees and slide my hand between my legs. My index finger circles my clit, and I run my middle finger along the seam of my entrance. My nipples are hard and sensitive, and I imagine Colton’s mouth on my breasts, sucking and nipping.

  I imagine his auburn hair wet and dripping around his face, his naked body slick from the bath water. My hips roll of their own accord, and I feel myself start to quicken. I slow my fingers, drawing this out as I picture Colton handcuffing me to the shower bracket and shoving my legs apart to reach my wet sex.

  In my fantasy, he clenches his hands on my thighs and nips a line upward toward where I really want him. Then his mouth reaches its destination and I moan as his smooth tongue licks me slowly, back and forth. He lifts my legs over his shoulders and sucks my clit, while his fingers come up to slide inside me. The combination of his hand and mouth send me over the edge too soon, and my muscles clench and unclench as I ride wave after wave of ecstasy.

  Trembling with aftershocks, I open my eyes, my fantasy banished, and see Bagpuss sitting up on the
toilet lid, watching me with unusual intensity. I make a face and flick water at him across the bathroom. “Pervert,” I mutter.

  Then I sigh. I can tell this guy is going to be bad for my health since I’m already fantasizing about him but I can’t help but wonder when he’ll be back for another session.

  ***

  I’m waiting for my usual Thursday 3 o’clock appointment to arrive, but she’s ten minutes late. Suzanne is my only female client and I often enjoy working with her. She’s less all-or-nothing than the guys . Sometimes we’ll just play about with the toys, testing them on each other. She’s more of a friend than a client if you ignore the kinky play.

  I’m standing at the metal cabinet wondering which playthings Suzanne will want this time when I hear the door to my office open. I grin over my shoulder. “Hey, Suz…” My voice trails off as I see it’s not Suzanne.

  Colton runs his eyes over me. Today I’m wearing a velvet playsuit and fishnets. From the look on his face, I’d say he approves. “The fishnets are a nice touch but I preferred the boots,” he says casually.

  I blink. Then cock my hip and frown. “I’m waiting on another client, so if you don’t mind…” I flourish my arm toward the door meaningfully.

  “Actually,” Colton says, stepping toward me and undoing his belt. He’s dressed in a crisp white button-down with a red tie and black trousers. He looks like a businessman who just got off work. “Your other client cancelled. I got moved up.”

  My eyes are on the leather belt in his hand and I feel a quiver of excitement. Did he bring his own toys this time? Then my mind refocuses. “What? I wasn’t told there was a cancellation.”

  Colton shrugs, unconcerned as he begins to unbutton his shirt. I force myself to look away and pull my mobile phone out of my bra. I hit the speed-dial for the club’s receptionist. Missy answers right away. “Missy, it’s Scarlet. I’ve got a client here I wasn’t expecting…”

  “Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot to tell you. Your three o’clock cancelled at the last minute. This guy was looking for an appointment ASAP so I booked him in the empty slot. Is that okay?”

  I sigh. “Yeah, it’s fine. A little heads up next time, though.”

  “Will do.” Missy hangs up and I’m left with Colton, who is now shirtless and has his tie wrapped around his fist. I find my attention drawn irresistibly to the V of his hipbones dipping into his trousers, and I wait for him to take them off so I can get a better view of that delicious ass again.

  “Everything okay?” he asks.

  “Uh…” There’s a tiny trial of hair leading down from his navel. I want to see what it leads to. I lick my lips. “Oh. Um, yeah. The receptionist just forgot to tell me you were coming. I guess we should get started.”

  He holds up a finger. “One thing before we begin. I want your name. Your real name.”

  I scowl at him. “That’s not part of the session agreement.”

  “Maybe not but I can’t call you Mistress as I’m not your Submissive.”

  “Then call me Scarlet.”

  “But that’s not your real name. I want to know your real name.

  “Why?”

  “Because if I’m to make this a regular occurrence, we will be forming a rather intimate relationship and I would prefer to form that relationship with a person, not a paid-for fantasy.”

  I think that over for a second. I don’t like the idea of a “relationship” of any kind. But I can see this is a deal-breaker for him, and I can’t afford to lose a client. Plus, I really don’t want to lose him as a client. “Serena. My real name is Serena.”

  He nods. “Serena. I like it. Now bend over.”

  I blink. Wow, I think, that escalated from polite chat to dominant command fast. But I calmly do as he says and grab my ankles. I did gymnastics as a kid, so I’m quite flexible. Being bent over with my ass in the air, though, is unsettling and exciting. I hope he spanks me with his hand this time. I want his fingers to leave red marks on my ass. I want the palm of his hand to leave a blossoming bruise on my buttocks.

  I wait patiently for Colton’s next command. I can hear him rummaging in the metal cabinet, and then his satisfied grunt when he finds what he’s looking for. I feel him return to my side, though I can only see his bare feet from under my cascade of hair. He places the chair in front of me and says, “Grip the back of the chair.”

  I do so, and cold metal meets my wrists. He’s handcuffed me to the chair, bent over. I’m aware of my breasts coming very close to falling out of my top.

  He sweeps my hair aside and grips the back of my neck, firm but not painful. He stands to the side of me and suddenly sharp pain explodes across my backside.

  It occurs to me that he doesn’t like seeing my face during these encounters. Last time, he made me face the wall, and this time I’m facing the floor. I don’t know if that’s part of his kink, or just a coincidence.

  He smacks me again. And again. My ass is on fire, but I’m so turned on, I don’t care about the pain. Suddenly he bents over me and whispers in my ear, “Do you like that Serena?”

  I bite my lip on a groan. God, his voice is like a vibrator inside me – so low and rough I think my panties are soaked through. He squeezes the back of my neck gently. “I asked you a question, Serena. Answer it.”

  “Yes,” I gasp.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, Sir, I like it.”

  He chuckles, a wickedly seductive sound, and I wait eagerly for his next smack. But it never comes. My alarm on my watch starts beeping, and with my hands shackled to the chair, I can’t turn it off. I have to admit, I’m disappointed our time is up. My heart is racing, the small of my back is damp with sweat, and my pussy is aching and wet.

  This man.

  He drives me crazy.

  Colton leans down to unlock the handcuffs, freeing me to turn of the alarm on my watch and stand up. My legs and back hurt like hell from being bent over so long, but I feel satisfied – in a sweaty, achy way. Almost like we just had sex. Except I didn’t come, and I have a feeling that if Colton was inside me, I’d come a dozen times over.

  It’s an exciting thought, and a terribly pointless one. I can’t have sex with clients. For so many reasons ; one of which being that I’d lose my job. The rules of my contract with The Toybox are very clear.

  For him, though, I’m tempted to break all the rules.

  Four

  The rest of the week, I’m distracted. I try to focus on my clients, on meeting their fetishistic needs, but none of it gives me the same erotic thrill that I get from being Colton’s Submissive.

  I spend the weekend treating myself at the spa, blowing every penny that I don’t need for rent. I go all out; hot stone massage, Moroccan mud wrap, Infra-red sauna, facial, manicure, pedicure. You name it.

  It’s luxurious and relaxing, but the relaxation doesn’t last long. As soon as I get home, Colton is on my mind again. I turn on the TV to distract me while I cook, stirring the chicken pieces into the mushroom sauce and keeping an eye on the boiling pan holding the pasta. There’s a documentary about tigers in India on, and I give it half my focus.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m just putting my dirty plate in the dishwasher when my phone starts blaring Katy Perry. I grab it off the coffee table and check the screen – I don’t recognize the number calling. But something tells me to answer it anyway.

  “Hello?”

  “Serena.”

  I almost die, hearing Colton’s rough voice on the other end of the line. “How did you get this number?” I ask, my voice breathy.

  “The receptionist at The Toybox gave me it.”

  Missy, again. I really need to give that girl a talking to. “She shouldn’t have. What do you want?”

  “You. Now.”

  My heart skips a beat and I close my eyes. “I’m not working today. The club is closed on a Sunday.”

  “I don’t want you at the club. I want you here. At my place.”

  Fuck. “I don’t do home visits, and like
I said, I’m not working.”

  “I’m not asking you to work.”

  “Then what are you asking?”

  He’s silent for a moment. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t focus at work. I’m hard all the time. I need you, Serena.”

  I half-sit, half-collapse on the sofa. One part of me is thrilled and eager, but the other part is scared. I can’t believe how deeply this man affects me. How badly I want to go to him.

  “Serena?”

  “I’m here.”

  “I need an answer, Serena. If you say no, you won’t see me again. Either you come to me now, or I’m leaving The Toybox. I can’t keep seeing you, knowing I can’t have you. It’ll drive me nuts.”

  I bite my lip. I have to decide, and fast. Am I willing to risk my job for this? Am I willing to let Colton possess me so entirely?

  “Tell me now, Serena. Will you come to me? Yes or no?”

  ***

  Standing in front of a 25th floor flat in the most expensive apartment building in the city, I raise my hand to knock on the door. It swings open before my knuckles meet the polished wood, revealing Colton standing there in a black shirt with the top few buttons open, and a pair of designer-looking jeans. His hair is a tangled mess, like he’s been running his hands through it.

  I lower my hand slowly, drinking him in as he does the same to me. His eyes trail down my body, from my sequined gold top with the draping collar, to my black leather trousers, to my suede ankle boots. I can practically feel the heat of his gaze burning through my clothes.

  Colton meets my eyes. “You look…” He pauses, clenching and unclenching his jaw like he’s biting his tongue on what he really wants to say. Finally, he says, “Beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” I say quietly. He steps back to let me in, but as I pass him, I notice he’s tense. He seems almost as nervous as I am.

  Inside, his apartment is all black wood and white furniture and glass walls. Very modern minimalist. There’s a large flat-screen TV opposite a long white sofa, a fancy stereo system crouching in the corner, and the entire wall opposite the front door is made of glass. It gives an amazing view of the fiery sunset dropping below the uneven rooftops.