Kyle & Sarah Ch 02bysteve w©
It wasn't his apartment, but she didn't know that. As far as she was concerned, he'd just given her an address and a time, and she'd turned up. He'd spent a couple of hours in the apartment before she arrived. He'd showered, changed, and found the things he was looking for. He'd made sure he knew where most things were, so that he'd look like he'd lived here for a while.
The apartment overlooked the river. The lights in the blocks opposite were sheathed in a gossamer-fine drizzle that slewed from the sky. The lights of the city gave the clouds an orange underglow, and seemed to dampen the usual sounds into a muffled silence. Contemplating the view made him relax too much – he became too serene and didn't like the feeling at all. He should be more keyed up when she arrived.
He'd told her what to wear. She'd queried him about it – it had seemed to her an odd choice – and that was the point at which he'd switched off the telephone. It wasn't for her to second-guess how the next lesson went.
The reception desk buzzed him, and he approved Sarah's ascent to the fourteenth floor. It was actually the thirteenth floor up but, like all buildings, there was no floor 13 as such. He saw on the security camera as she walked to the elevator, that she was dressed as he'd required. He opened the door and left it ajar.
He was almost too impressed when she walked in. As instructed, she was wearing training shoes, low-slung combats, and a short white t-shirt that exposed her midriff. It seemed to suit her, despite the fact that he was sure she wouldn't wear that kind of thing normally. Luke, ten years her senior, already dressed like an old man at the golf club, and Kyle was sure he'd regard this kind of outfit as "unsuitable" in some way. But, quite the opposite, it suited her fucking well. She looked stunning, and he had to make an effort not to show it. He watched her in the reflection from the window as she closed the door and stood, hands clasped in front of her, awaiting orders.
"You're late Sarah. Don't be late again."
His voice was soft but the words carried weight. Sarah looked at her feet momentarily and apologised.
"Sorry Kyle. There was a hold-up on the train and...."
He held his hand up and she stopped instantly. It was strange how effective that was.
"I don't want to hear it, do I? Did I say why are you late? Did I ask you for an unconvincing explanation of why? No, I didn't. I just stated a fact. I gave you a time and you were late. Any reason why I shouldn't just tell you to fuck off? Is there?"
Sarah glanced at her feet again.
"No Kyle. I'm sorry."
"Take off your shoes and come over here."
He leaned back against the sofa as she came over to him. That languid, liquid walk she had intrigued him. She seemed to flow across the surface, with an athletic symmetry to her movements, although he wasn't aware that she had a sporting past. Perhaps it was just natural with her. She stood before him, those indigo eyes looking straight at his. He realised he'd underestimated her when he first met her. She wasn't the simpering girlie figure he'd assumed her to be. There was a bit more steel in her than that. She was a bit sharper, a bit more together, than he'd first realised. But he hadn't been wrong about the state of her marriage, or about her latent compliant streak, her need to be dominated. That was his innate gift, and it hadn't failed.
As she got close to him he reached out a hand and slowly, carefully, moved her hair from the side of her face. In doing so, he gently caressed her cheek. The gentleness was a cruel hoax. As his hand slid through her hair, he suddenly grabbed a handful of it and squeezed. But he was oh-so-careful. He didn't tug her head. He didn't cause her head to move an inch. He just tightened the hair on her scalp, twisting it in his hand until her eyes widened. Then he leaned forward, put his other hand on her throat, and kissed her.
His kiss was hot, passionate and unexpected. It kicked off little fires inside her, the near-pain of his hair-pulling and the insistent urgency of his kiss. Their tongues clashed as she relished the fierceness and she felt badly wanted. She lifted her hand to enmesh it in his hair but he roughly slapped it way, pushing it back to her side. She got the message. She let her arms to hang limply at her flanks, and allowed herself to be kissed, and to be controlled once again. But this time was different to the first lesson. This was rougher, harsher without being painful, and somehow more mutual, despite his control. She could sense his passion this time in a way she couldn't before, and it made her feel good - very good, in fact.
Kyle drew his head back and stared deeply and silently into her eyes. He just kept looking and looking. His focal point was beyond her eyes, inside her. He didn't notice the flecks of brown in her eyes. He was looking deeper than that. She returned his stare and there they stood, one hundred feet above the river, for at least a minute.
At last, it seemed to Sarah that Kyle had gotten the answers he'd sought, though she couldn't tell how. Maybe it was another test, to see if she'd remain silent. If so, she passed. Kyle let go of her hair, and a slick buzz raced across the top of her spine as her hair fell back against her skin. She realised how much her nerves were dancing, how her body was slightly arched towards him in expectation, and how keyed-up she was for tonight. It was a feeling that she'd pushed back down on the way over here but now, alone in the silent room, she could let it flow. That's what this was all about for her, letting latent feelings flow unchecked.
Kyle reached around with his other hand, so that he now had two hands on her throat. His grip wasn't tight, or uncomfortable. He could feel her pulse in his fingertips. She was agitated, excited, super-aware. He leaned in and past her, moving his mouth to her ear. Very quietly he whispered.
"Don't move your legs until I say so."
She was about to nod when he began to move towards the window, taking him with her. With an understanding that betrayed her need to be acquiescent, she let her legs go limp, and allowed herself to be dragged by the throat towards the glass. His grip was cleverly arranged so that she felt no pain, and could draw breath. It wasn't a breath game. It was more subtle than that, more psychological than physical. Their eyes remained locked on each other. In four short steps they had reached the glass and she, like a limp rag doll, looked into his fierce eyes, awaiting the next instruction.
Kyle struggled to keep his breathing even. He was aware that part of his role was to always be in control of himself as well as her. Every action had to be deliberate, yet seeming to be instinctual and natural. As if this was his natural state of being, and her responses should be innate to her as well. But it wasn't easy. She seemed to be more beautiful each time he got nearer. Some faces seemed to be made for smiling – they came alive, they broke easily into laughter – but Sarah's seemed to be made for this kind of submissive subjugation. It added to her beauty, to be silent and controlled.
He kept his grip on her throat, but moved around behind her. He could see her shoulders moving as she breathed, and could see that her breaths were becoming shorter. He gently eased her forward slightly, until she put two sweat-slicked hands onto the glass, leaning against the window and looking down to the riverfront walk. She saw couples huddled under umbrellas, lights like tearstains from the far side of the river, and winking red eyes from the tops of the towers. And she felt him unfasten the front of her combats, and snake a hand down inside them.
Kyle's mouth was inches from her ear, as his hand slid slowly down towards her cunt. She felt her hips flex involuntarily as his fingertip brushed over her clit, then slowly sidle back up and press gently against it. She bit her lip to hold back any noise.
"Sensitive little slut, aren't we? I noticed that last time. If I was a nice guy, I'd just play around with your clit all night and watch you cum. You're very entertaining when you cum. You kind of lose control over any limbs that aren't fastened to something. And you're an eye-roller. Your pupils tilt back for a second just before the big release. See? I notice these things. Does Luke notice them?"
The mention of her husband made her flinch, as he knew it would. Here and now, with his fingertip pressed gently against her clit, potentially in view of hundreds of people – if only they would look up, look across, look in, at their whim – it was incongruous. It reminded her that she was fucking around, that there was someone she'd promised her life to, and it wasn't the man breathing fuck-words into her ear. Kyle liked her discomfort. He made a mental note to mention Luke whenever he thought she was getting comfortable with this. It was a zero-sum game – he maintained his equilibrium provided he kept her off-balance.
"That's right, Sarah. Hubby's at home, while you're here getting your clit seen to. And you chose to come here. You chose to fuck around on him, because there's a need in you that you can't stop anymore. The genie's out of the bottle."
His left hand slid up her midriff, snaking across the stomach muscles below her shining skin. Her body felt hot to the touch. He could feel her muscles move beneath her skin as her breathing remained agitated. His fingers slid underneath her tee shirt and slowly rolled it up her body. In the reflection of the glass he could see her nipples pressed tight against the fabric, and then exposed to the world. He took a quick glance at her face. The little bitch had her eyes closed.
He grabbed her hair again and tugged her head back. Her eyes flew open in surprise, but she held her position. Her mouth was open and, as he held it there, he longed for a camera - a video camera preferably. Hmmmm.
"Did I tell you to close your eyes, Sarah? Well? Fucking did I?"
His voice hissed with anger and impatience. She was briefly worried that he was really angry and would tell her to get out. A small part of her mind wondered why that disturbed her – this arrogant bastard exposing her, treating her like his personal fuck-toy. But another part of her mind realised that her only concern right now was the potential withdrawal of this delicious feeling of being controlled, of being used, by someone who knew how to do it right.
She shook her head, as much as his insistent grip would allow, and he let her hang her head forward. She felt his foot against her ankle, nudging her leg until she moved it, closing her legs tightly together. The angle made his finger press harder against her clit, though he hadn't moved his hand at all. She gave a sharp intake of breath, and had to fight the urge to close her eyes and just let the orgasm shake through her body. As it was, her body was taut, stretched like a spider's web, and under his control.
Kyle used the silence to consider his next move.
He pressed himself against her back, allowing her to feel his erect cock through their clothing. He pressed it against the cleft of her ass, allowing her to sense how well it fitted the groove. His left hand tugged at her combats and, after a second tug, they slipped over her thighs, and slid slowly down to her ankles. Now his cock was pressing through his trousers to bare flesh. She felt a slight breeze from some ventilation point at the window, which let a gentle draft of air drift past her thighs.
"That's better Sarah. That's what you secretly wanted, wasn't it? Anyone looking into the apartment window will see a slut exposing herself, and waiting for a guy to either spank her clit until she falls over, or stick his prick inside her. They'll see a nasty little whore who doesn't care which one it is, along as he gets on with it. Because she can't fucking wait to cum, no matter who sees her do it. That hits a little fantasy spot, doesn't it?"
She looked through the glass and their eyes met in the reflection. She closed her eyes slowly to signify 'yes', and a thousand messages spun between them in a vortex of unspoken permissions. Her consent drifted to him and, as it did so, her breathing slowed slightly. As though, in yielding the last vestiges of self-determination, she felt release. She dropped her head again to the subjugated position, seeing only the sheen on her thighs.
She sensed that he was kneeling now, behind her. The grip of her hair had gone, but her scalp still tingled as her hair fell slowly back into place. Again, that rush along the top of her spine as her skin became alive, even to her own touch. It felt like the nerves were pushing through towards the surface. His finger was still on her clit and still exerting the same, constant, unyielding pressure. She felt so alive and aware of her body, that she could have made herself cum just by closing her eyes and wishing. Never, never before, anything like this.
Kyle regarded her smooth skin for a moment. Her back blended smoothly into her ass, the muscle tone making it one elegant curve. He could see her body moving slightly as she breathed, and he noted that her breaths were more even now. She was getting too relaxed, too comfortable. She wasn't here to be comfortable. She was here to tread a very fine line between what she wanted, and what he felt she deserved. She was here to feel the adrenalin of anxiety and shock.
With his left hand, he slowly prised apart her ass cheeks, and blew cool air onto her asshole. At first, she shuddered a little, and he thought she was going to squirm away, but she recovered enough to stay still. He blew again, just gentle air like a summer breeze.
She was still silently enjoying it, when he pushed an ice cube into her ass.
He saw her thigh muscles tense. Initially, the ice was so cold that it didn't register. It pulverised the nerves inside her ass to the point where they couldn't register or communicate. He could sense the confusion of her brain as the ice entered, the incongruity of anything going in rather than out, the acute temperature difference between the ice, and the heat of her body. She felt the sheer shock of the unexpected. He smiled as she lifted herself onto the tips of her toes, and swayed slightly towards the glass. And then, as she settled back down onto the balls of her feet, he smiled again. Because she realised that not only was the sensation not unpleasant, it was wickedly wonderful. And she wanted to feel it again.
She wouldn't, not yet. She still had to learn that her pleasure came as an irrelevant by-product of his toying with her. He leaned in and licked her ass, allowing spit to dribble down his tongue and lubricate her opening. His right hand began to gently stroke the smooth skin between her ass and cunt, which was now shimmering in the lights of the city as his spit oozed downwards. This worked, this always worked. As he licked, he slowly increased the pressure of his finger on her clit. He sensed the change in her straight away, as he kept up the attention on her. She knew - they both knew - that she couldn't stand this very long. Virtually naked, exposed to anyone caring to look, his finger pushing her clit, his tongue on her ass, and a melted ice cube inside her – it was too much.
She screwed her eyes up in a desperate bid not to scream. This wrenching orgasm was shoving its way through her, oblivious to her panic-stricken attempts to control herself. It wanted out, and it was going, whether she wanted to allow it or not. She felt a slight dizziness and a roaring intensity rush through her body from head to toe. She could practically feel her blood ripping through her veins, fizzing and crackling as it went. Her head lolled and her knees bucked slightly, and Kyle spanked her clit just once, to be sure. She half-slumped against the glass, feeling the cool surface pressed against her nipples, as she fought to stand up.
She had no idea how long it took, just that she'd managed not to fall as she came. Her skin felt super-heated, and there was nowhere near enough oxygen in the room. And Kyle was still licking.
He stood, with his trousers on the floor, and pushed his erect cock against the firmness of her ass cheeks. He'd let go of her clit now, and she had an aching desire to touch it herself. Even though that was against the rules, and her clit was too super-sensitive to take any sort of contact. Her orgasm, while it had brought her body to a peak of excitement, had only led her to want more. She was greedy for new and different sensations – a hunger she hadn't known she possessed.
He slowly pushed another ice cube into her ass, and another one. With each cube, her asshole relented a little more easily, a little more willingly, a little more naturally. She was getting used to the idea, and feeding off it, and welcoming it. That wasn't part of the deal as far as he was concerned. He pushed his cock insistently into her ass.
She braced herself against the glass and, before she could register the shock that he'd done it, found herself pushing away from the glass and back onto his cock. It was such an instinctive reaction, she couldn't tell where it came from. She just did it. Her ass was fairly relaxed, and slightly lubed by the melting ice. But the main part of the cubes had remained inside her and, as he pushed further, she could feel the ice being forced further into her ass. Into areas that had never experienced anything like this before, that had no concept of cold, or of contact with anything like a solid object. Such was the heat racing around her body, and the mass of confusing images, thoughts and emotions inside her head, that she forgot to tense up. Her body betrayed her, in its willingness to yield to him, and allow him to go anywhere he wanted.
The contact of the ice with the muscles inside her ass sent shots up her spine like a Catherine Wheel spinning out of control. He seemed so close, so fucking close, to the base of her spine, to the core of every nerve she had. The ice was melting now, and all that remained was his impossibly hard cock. It was so perfectly sheathed by her butt that it seemed impossible that it could ever move. But moving it was – her ass muscles rippled along its smooth length as he began to slide in and out of her asshole.
Kyle was impressed by how she'd taken to it. He wasn't long but he was thick, and the ice wasn't a huge amount of lubrication. But just after she'd cum, she was too hot to ignore any potential excitement, and her willingness to accommodate the ice cubes had served a twofold purpose. First, they'd provided some lubrication, aside from the spit his cock had picked up when it was pressed against her. Second, it was clear that she was a natural.
He settled into a slow rhythm as he allowed her to get used to his cock inside her ass. It was such a different feeling to a cock inside her cunt. For him, it was tighter than he'd ever dare to hold himself, and hotter than hell. It also looked fucking sensational. For her, it was a whole different mass of nerves, a whole new level of delicious friction between her body and his cock. She would feel him in a way that her cunt never could.
Once he felt she was able to take him, he leaned forward.
"Like my cock in your ass? Like being a dirty little bitch? Like taking my dick anywhere I fucking want to put it? Tell me."
Sarah felt like she couldn't breathe properly. She felt as though taking his cock demanded every ounce of concentration she had, and even thinking about breathing would be enough for her to lose it. She could feel another orgasm swirling around the pit of her stomach, or her ass, or somewhere. All parts of her body seemed to meld into one continuous sensation. It scared her, and yet she wanted to relish every second of it. She could only afford one word. It had to be the right word – a magic word.