As I did Alex’s hand slipped down over my tailbone, down lower, caressing all my most intimate places, working towards the delicate folds of my sex, his nimble fingers exploring, dipping into me. Alex didn’t need to tell me that I was wet. He made a little sound of pleasure as he took the time to explore my compliant, hungry body. I shivered as his fingers opened me, stroking and teasing. I pressed back onto him, pushing his fingers deeper.
‘Bad girl, bad girl,’ he said, stepping away from me. ‘You know how this works. You have to wait until later, until you’ve earned it. First the pain and then the pleasure.’
I guessed what was coming next. I closed my eyes and waited, trying hard not to tense up, which I knew would only make the pain more intense.
Alex’s first stroke with the crop was tentative, almost gentle, barely more than a tap. It made me wonder if he had ever cropped someone before, but actually I was glad that the blow was so gentle. It had been so long since I had played with anyone. After all the anticipation I’d been feeling over the last few days I wanted to relish it. I certainly didn’t want to shriek and frighten Alex off or use the safe word if I could possibly help it. The second stroke was a little harder, but not much.
‘We’ll take this slowly,’ he said, almost as if he could read my thoughts. There was the slightest tremor in his voice. I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or excitement. ‘We’ll build it up gradually, a little at a time. I’ve brought a whole bag full of toys with me,’ said Alex. ‘Next time you can choose.’
I laughed and he hit me again, a little harder this time.
‘Count,’ he said.
‘Three,’ I said.
‘Well done,’ he said, and hit me again.
‘Four.’ This one was lower down, catching the top of my thighs. It stung like crazy and made me gasp, and as I gasped the crop found its mark again.
I stamped my feet, an involuntary reaction to the pain, as my hands flew round to rub the back of my thighs and the weal that rose within seconds. ‘Five,’ I said, through gritted teeth.
Alex teased the end of the crop backwards and forwards over my fingertips, guiding them away. ‘Put your hands back on the arms of the chair and stay still,’ ordered Alex. ‘Now.’
It is very hard to just let someone hit you with a crop. Very hard to obey when you know that it will hurt. And sometimes the sensations create something like a tidal wave, a sensory overload, so it’s hard to back down from them and tolerate any more. The stinging snap across my thighs was one of those sensations. I was trembling, suffused by a rolling heat and pain.
‘Now,’ he repeated more crisply.
I was close to that place. I slowly put my hands back, taking a deep breath, letting the tension ease away. Crazy as it might sound, I wanted this. I needed it. The last thing I wanted was to call a halt. I took another deep breath.
The next blow was squarely across my bum and though it made me gasp it was more bearable.
‘How many is that?’ Alex said.
‘Six,’ I hissed. I had forgotten that I was meant to count.
‘Good girl.’ The next blow made me cry out and realise how naïve I had been thinking the first few strokes had been too soft or that Alex didn’t know what he was doing. He knew. He knew very, very well.
‘Seven.’
I sucked in a ragged breath. My pulse was racing. I felt as if I was drowning in the rush of sensations as Alex hit me again.
‘Eight.’
As the pain rippled through me I realised that I had forgotten just how much I love and hate this feeling. I swallowed hard. I had missed this so much and yet I was struggling with just how intense, how overwhelming it felt.
‘Nine.’ And I am consumed by the sensations, falling, falling into the void, my voice sounds a long, long way off; the pain is not.
‘Ten.’ I wonder fleetingly if Alex will stop at ten as I close my eyes tightly. Behind my closed eyes I can see the pain roaring through me like a coloured flare.
‘Eleven.’
I have my answer.
‘Twelve.’
And then there’s a moment’s stillness. Alex drops the crop onto the floor alongside the chair, takes my hands and leads me over to the bed. Eyes dark with desire he lifts me up and sets me down on the huge four-poster, in among the cushions and bolsters. He is breathing fast and heavy. I can sense his excitement, matching my own, as he kisses my neck, my throat, my breasts, my belly.
I moan with pure pleasure. Without pulling away he starts to unbutton his shirt and, desperate not to lose the moment, I am with him, undressing him too. We are both so hungry for this. His body is strong and muscular, the muscles clearly defined; his chest is broad and hairy, every inch a man. His hands work on his belt, freeing his cock, erect and full. He is beautiful. I reach out to touch him but he hasn’t done with me yet.
Alex’s hands explore every last inch of me, and where his fingers lead his tongue follows. As his tongue works lower and lower, moving down, down over my breasts and belly I am completely lost, lifting myself up towards him, eager and brazen. As his tongue finds the hard, throbbing bud of my clitoris I cry out in delight, demanding more as he licks and laps and sucks, his hands under my buttocks lifting me onto his tongue. God, he is good. I’m sobbing with pure ecstasy.
I can feel the storm building, feel the pleasure arcing, feel myself about to tumble over the edge, and then Alex is pulling away and I am begging for him to finish what he started – not leave me hanging – and then I realise that he is putting on a condom and as I reach out towards him, he eases himself slowly into me. I feel my body opening under him, feel his beautiful cock slide slowly deeper and deeper.
Buried to the hilt, he fills me to the brim. I fit tight around him and he starts to move, oh so slowly, with magnificent control, angling his pelvis so that he brushes up against the rise of my sex, brushing my clitoris with every stroke, the lightest touch of his skin against mine. I can’t believe how good it feels. It is amazing, all-engulfing. I hold my breath as he moves again and then finally, blissfully let go, relishing the feelings as he oh-so-slowly fucks me.
I suspect that Alex won’t be able to hang on for much longer; his breath is ragged and shallow, and I am as close to the edge as he is. He pushes deeper, I move with him, and I feel my body responding, arching up to meet his. And then, just as I feel the first white-hot ripples of orgasm, Alex looks into my eyes. His are dark with hunger and need and things that have no words, only feelings, and I am falling over the edge into the void. As I begin to come, I feel the first mesmerising pulse of his orgasm deep inside me, feel my sex close tight around him, feel the heat and the waves rolling through us both, making my body arch and stiffen under his, driving on and on until finally we are both totally spent and we collapse, breathing hard, falling down onto the bed, all passion expended, all tension gone.
Alex slides out of me and after a moment or two we curl up together, my back to his belly, his arms tight around me. I shiver with a mixture of cold and the remnants of excitement. In response he drags the corner of the bedcover up over both of us, and within seconds I am asleep in his arms, totally exhausted, utterly drained and blissfully content.
‘So,’ said Lisa, that night over dinner, ‘how did you two meet?’ She was looking at Alex, but the question was aimed fair and square at me. Lisa was the bride’s youngest sister. She was slim, dark haired, dressed to kill, and was somewhere in her late teens or early twenties. According to the rest of the diners at our table, Lisa was the noisiest and nosiest of the family’s six children. It was a close-run thing though; they were all noisy and funny, and full of stories and nonsense. Everyone, including me, was having a great time.
‘Lisa, will you just stop it,’ said Cathie, the bride’s