Four Erotic Series Collection: Bounds Of Passion, Sexed Up/Tied Down, Spectacular Stranger, The Proposition, Page 2

  CRACK. All the blood in Lydia’s legs went rushing to the injured spot and set alight, burning her skin so she cried. She braced herself for another blow and it came – whipping down with precision aim directly on top of her already scalded flesh. She squealed and wriggled helplessly on the padded table, aware that as she struggled, her sex was betraying her – the warmth from her pain was making her ready, willing and desperate to be filled by her pain-giver.

  Lydia could feel her wetness growing and the swell of her clitoris as she moved on the table. Jack delivered less painful but still stinging strikes to the backs of her legs as she wormed about, trying to deny her arousal and escape the burn of the riding crop.

  “Had enough?” Jack’s voice sounded as though he was enjoying watching her squirm.

  “I… I don’t know!” Lydia shook her head to try and clear away the stars she was seeing. Jack ran the riding crop over her sore legs, causing the blood to flood her nether regions and then, slowly, ran the crop over her sex.

  Lydia froze as she felt the leather grace over her clitoris, labia and anus, fearing for the damage a blow to them might do. But Jack Riding was kind this time, and simply sought out his submissive’s clitoris again and gently rubbed it with the soft end of the riding crop.

  It was different to a hand, different again from a sex toy, and the smoothness of the leather running slickly and quickly over her swollen clit made Lydia moan gently. Jack squeezed her slap-marks with his free hand and increased the sensations inside and out of Lydia’s body. She surrendered to this new pleasure as the friction increased.

  Chapter Four

  Jack Riding continued his assault on Lydia’s clitoris and she cried out as her pleasure mounted. As she began to twitch with the start of an orgasmic wave, he let the riding crop fall and leaned over her naked back to whisper in her ear.

  “Why did you join the website?”

  “Because,” she gasped. “Because no man has ever been able to make me come before he does when fucking me,” she turned her head slightly. “Can you do it?”

  “I can’t promise anything,” Jack replied with a smile. “Now, head down,” he pushed her dark locks over her face and took a hold of her hips. “I like a challenge,” he added, touching just the tip of his cock to her wetness. She tried to back into him and received a slap on her backside for her trouble. “Keep still,” he snapped, and she fought to relax her limbs. Her legs, splayed apart with the restraint revealing and displaying their hidden treasures, which Jack pressed minutely against.

  Lydia felt the amazingness of having a lover just touching her – resting his hot, pink glans against her entrance, but not actively seeking it. Her wetness mixed with Jack’s pre-cum and they seemed to be joined in the heat of the moment.

  Then, with barely any thrusting at all, Jack pressed inside her, slowly entering her passage, whilst all the time stroking her clitoris, gently, gently. Heat radiated all over Lydia’s flesh and she felt the wounds Jack had given her glow with a strange mix of pleasure and pain, heightened by this welcome intrusion into her sex. She felt the glowing head of his cock pushing her sex open – making way for the long, thick shaft behind it. She felt, more keenly than before, the way her sex rippled and fluttered over the man’s cock, tasting and touching every time morsel of it. It was more intimate than she had ever felt before.

  Her clitoris pulsed and twitched as Jack’s cock brushed over her g-spot, sending sparks of pleasure over her whole sex. There was a moment where she was sure she would orgasm, and then as Jack squeezed her wounded buttocks again, it dwindled and died frustratingly. Lydia moaned, and her dominant partner gave her another fierce slap – his cock not even halfway inside her yet – it seemed to be a warning against eagerness. The slap made her insides convulse and suck the man’s cock deeper inside her body. Jack slapped her again and his erection slipped still deeper within the formerly vanilla woman. Every slap he delivered made his erection inch inside her, and she longed for the next blow, so she could feel all of him.

  Twelve blows were delivered before Jack was completely sheathed inside Lydia. He paused, moving slightly as Lydia’s passage stretch and fluttered over his large erection. There was a moment where he rolled his hips to feel her width, and Lydia made a small noise of satisfaction. Then, the next steps began.

  Jack withdrew quickly and thrust back inside with purpose. There was a beautiful rhythm to his movements, and Lydia responded by raising her hips as best she could to allow him as much depth as she could give. As he inserted himself back inside her, with no resistance, he bumped her cervix, giving another pleasure / pain response in her now willing submissive body. Lydia could feel warm pain as Jack’s pelvis hit her slap-marks and whip-lines, but she did not tell him to stop. The combination of pain and pleasure was making her wetter and hotter than ever before, and the idea of being fucked by a complete stranger in his own torture chamber was only a small part of it.

  Jack fucked her forcefully, yet slowly, making it clear he was in charge. His thick cock stretched her passage, making her cry out with each sensation – she could feel every bit of him buried inside her. All she needed now was speed.

  “Ready?” his voice asked, sounding thick with arousal.

  “Yes,” she said, gripping the curved table’s legs with her hands and taking a deep breath. What happened next she could not have ever imagined. Jack thrust and pounded into her with a speed she had never known from a man before. His thick cock’s head rubbed her g-spot gloriously, making her sex seem to catch fire with desire. She threw her head back and made noises like an animal, desperate for this to not be wasted. His finger, still on her clitoris, moved so slightly it could barely have been said to have moved at all, but the movement of his thrusts rubbed her pelvis on his hands and did the work for him.

  Lydia felt she was getting herself off on someone else’s hands, and she realised this was something she had control over. Every time Jack pounded inside her, she directed her pelvis to hit his fingers and therefore her slick clit. She was so close – if only he wouldn’t stop…

  And then she realised he wasn’t going to stop. She was going to get what she wanted – and more. Her pleasure barrier was dropping and breaking down – sweat formed on her forehead and she could feel her vagina trembling and clenching. She relaxed and then it came.

  In waves, producing a wetness she had not expected, washing from her clitoris, through her cunt, down her injured legs and over her injured buttocks. They all seemed to catch fire as the waves of pleasurable pain broke down and made Lydia cry out like she had never done before.

  All the while, Jack continued to fuck her, prolonging the sensations and making them more intense. His cock drew out her orgasm and made her ride the waves of pleasure through to the climax of his own. As his last fierce thrusts pushed deep inside her she clenched her fists and closed her eyes as hic cock erupted and he came inside her; roaring victory as hot semen filled her cunt, overflowing so it dripped down her legs. They stayed connected for a time, Jack’s cock pulsing and moving inside Lydia, until he withdrew with a final, knee-shaking blow to her legs with the back of his hand.

  “That’s lesson one over with,” he said, getting his breath back. He knelt to unbuckle the leg restraint and Lydia reached for the floor with her toes, too tired to stand by herself. She stayed leaning on the table, her legs wobbling with pleasure.

  “Lesson one?” she gasped.

  “Indeed,” Jack handed her a glass of water and took a drink himself. “You’ve only dipped a toe into the waters of my world. Come swim in them with me?”

  Lydia looked at her new partner, with his dark blond hair, wet with sweat, and his now flaccid cock that had given her what she most desired. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she grinned.

  Book 2: Bound Together

  Chapter One

  The dark and lonely nights now left Lydia Westwood staring into the blackness of her bedroom, recalling the memory of her first night with Jack Riding. She became los
t in her own thoughts, unable to forget the intense moments they shared and no masturbation or even writhing and grinding in bed, could give her any release. Nothing she tried could recreate the feelings Jack had slapped into her.

  Though she became frustratingly, burningly aroused and ready from running her fingers over her wet cunt and secret pleasure-spots, she couldn’t orgasm. The issue of the lovers before who had denied her this simple, sexual right had now come back to haunt her – she could no longer bring herself off, no matter how much she tried or how vivid her imagination became. There always seemed to be something missing from fucking herself raw. Lydia the dark-haired, sensual woman spent the nights that followed her first BDSM experience lying sweating, gripping, almost tearing the bed-sheets out from under her in sheer frustration.

  From her teens, Lydia had always been delightfully aware of her own and others’ sexuality, but had never found lovers to satisfy her. They always came before she was ready, and she never seemed to be aroused enough to enjoy their fucking completely. Like many women, she enjoyed written and photographic erotica as well as exploring the world of internet pornography now and again – all with the purpose of pleasuring herself. But the sensual young woman had always seen fucking a partner as a wonderful, sometimes amazing transaction – you gave yourself to a man in order to receive, hopefully, a mind-blowing orgasm. More often than not, she was feeling short-changed.

  As she had now taken her first tentative footsteps into Jack Riding’s world of BDSM, her dreams were thick and splattered with the images of smacking hands, spanking paddles and handcuffs. But to Lydia, these imaginings were not good enough. They did little more that whet her appetite for the real thing. For the sexual young woman, simply imagining the pleasure was certainly not enough any more.

  *

  The taxi taking the young woman home was crawling; its journey drawn-out by the slow, rush-hour traffic. Red, amber and white lights wobbled and shimmered in the wet gloom of the approaching night. Drizzle turned the lamps and neon lights into soft halos. Lydia leaned against the plastic seat and sighed melodramatically. She fished in her handbag and checked her phone for the millionth time that day. As always, there was nothing. It was though she was expecting to see a flashing screen and a name, his name, Jack Rider, to be splashed all over the screen. “You really have fucked up, this time,” she whispered to herself. “Fucking a stranger off the internet and expecting to be taken into some sort of secret sex society. What the fuck were you thinking?,” she bit her lip hard. “Once again, you’ve been used. Sure, you got a decent orgasm out of it, but now what? You’re fucking alone again, waiting for a call that’ll never come. You really do suck, you know?” Lydia glared at the wobbly, water-stained reflection of her face in the smoky and fogged-up glass before turning her gaze back to her shoes and the back of the driver’s head. The traffic inched forwards, minutely. Her thoughts always wandered back to that wild night of new pain mixed with pleasure and the excitement of experimentation. She knew that as time went on these memories would grow dimmer and dimmer and the need to experience it all again would become a powerful sexual force inside her. This made her feel a little anxious but tremendously excited and she squeezed her thighs tightly together in the back of the taxi.

  *

  Lydia got home and checked her messages. There was a flashing red light on the answer-phone, so she pressed it eagerly, and to her delight, the smiling tones of Jack Riding floated out of the speaker. She felt like screaming with excitement.

  “Hello, this is Jack,” the voice said. “Wondered if you were ready for session two, yet? Meet me at the café at closing time. Wear something you don’t mind losing,” and the message clicked off. Lydia’s mind raced with possibilities. Wear something she didn’t mind losing? Well, for another night with Jack, she was more than willing to say goodbye to a dress or two.

  She dressed hurriedly, tying her hair back and pulling on a light cotton frock with buttons all the way down the front. She hadn’t worn it for a while, and her breasts seemed eager to be free of it – bursting out of the bodice like balloons. She considered wearing something over the top, and then decided if the clothes were coming off, she’d rather not kiss away a cute cardigan as well.

  The café was locking up when Lydia went to stand at the corner of the street, feeling suddenly very exposed. There was a stiff breeze and she shivered. The street was almost deserted; the leaves of autumn blowing about lazily when a large black car pulled up and stopped beside her.

  “Lydia Westwood” came an unfamiliar voice.

  “Yes…” she said uncertainly.

  “I’m Mr. Riding’s chauffeur. I’m to take you to his house,” the door popped open to reveal an empty back seat. Lydia hesitated. There was something sinister about the mysterious car, but the thought of the pleasure she could gain for another experience with Jack was too much to ignore and she climbed into it. The vehicle sped off, taking her the same route the cab had done the first time she visited. The young woman relaxed a little, and then the excitement of what was about to happen wrapped itself all around her and she could barely keep still. There was a tingling anticipation in the air, and Lydia was aroused by just the thought of where she was going.

  The car pulled up outside the same row of terraces as before and Lydia’s passenger door was opened by a man in his mid-thirties, with dark hair and a wry smile. “Good evening,” he said, indicating she should get out.

  “Thanks,” Lydia said, easing herself out of the car with as much dignity as she could manage. The chauffeur instructed her to knock on the door and the butler would answer it. “Take care,” he said, getting back into the car and driving away.

  Take care? What is that – a warning? She thought frantically as she worked the brass knocker. The sound vibrated through her hand and the door, which was opened almost instantly. She was certainly expected. The same man as had previously taken her coat opened the door and bowed her in, looked her up and down.

  No doubt he is aware of what’s going on, she thought. Is that a look of approval or disgust? Hard to tell, but then… Who’d really expect me to be coming here to… and her mind filled with the imagery of the last afternoon she had spent in this house, bringing a blush to her cheeks and décolletage.

  “Mr. Riding is expecting you in the same room as before,” the butler said, indicating the stairs.

  “Thank you,” Lydia said, ascending the oak staircase once more into the unknown.

  Chapter Two

  Lydia knocked on the door to the room she had entered previously and she heard a ‘Come in!’ from the interior. She creaked the door open and looked inside. The lamps were lit, casting an orange glow about the room, and rather than illuminating the objects around the walls, it made them slink further into the shadows, so their mystery was preserved. In the centre of the room, shirtless, yet trousered, stood Jack.

  His dark blonde hair was neatly styled into subtle spikes that suited his young-yet-old face. He had those dark blue eyes that seemed to search into Lydia’s very soul and a smirk to his lips that said ‘you’re mine’.

  “Hello,” Lydia said carefully, closing the door behind her.

  “On the floor,” Jack replied, pointing to the space in front of him. “On your knees.”

  No preliminaries, then! Lydia felt a rush of heat and fear wash over her and knelt in front of the man who was standing with his hands behind his back, an enigmatic smile upon his face. He watched Lydia hike her skirt up and kneel down in front of him before walking around her, the full three-hundred and sixty degrees, taking in her every inch. Lydia stayed perfectly still, aware, somehow, that to move would not be permitted. After circling her three times, Jack took hold of Lydia’s collar and pulled.

  Her dress-shirt tore, a thin strip breaking free of the rest of the fabric. She flinched as it was torn free, and Jack pulled her hands behind her back, securing them with the torn fabric strip. She could still move her hands, if she tried, but not enough to free herself. The
next strip of fabric tore off her back, and was promptly tied to her hand restraint, and threaded carefully around her neck, stopping her hands moving entirely.

  “Don’t pull with your hands,” Jack warned. “You could strangle yourself,” and he checked the slack on the ropes. Lydia felt warm, even though the room was chilly, and the strips of dress she was missing exposed her bra and toned stomach. Jack went away for a moment and came back with a large and menacing-looking pair of scissors. Lydia’s heart jumped into her mouth. But the man simply snipped through what remained of her clothes, including bra and, when she struggled to her feet, her knickers until she was standing, bound, completely naked.

  Lydia felt the warmth and promise of arousal coursing through her, and she tried to get her breathing under control. Her sex was starting to become wet, and as Jack turned her to admire her body, she couldn’t help but notice the beginnings of a bulge in his suit trousers. Jack tore another strip of fabric from what remained of Lydia’s dress and then made to cover her eyes with it. She took a step backwards in surprise and received a slap on her bottom for her trouble.

  “Blindfold?” she asked.

  “Yes, woman,” Jack snapped, tying it around her head. “I need your body to be responsive, and your eyes may deceive you,” he said, checking she could not see. Lydia turned her head as people who are blindfolded do, but she could see nothing out of her closed lids and the tight fabric cover. Only the blackness remained, and the thrill of wondering what was to happen next.

  Lydia heard the sound of Jack’s footsteps retreating momentarily and then coming closer, before there was a ‘CRACK’ just behind her. Whatever it was had not yet made contact with her flesh, but it made the hairs on her arms stand on end. She was tempted to try and turn towards the sound, but moving slightly against her restraints, she decided against it. Just as something hard, something hot, something almost alive bit into her skin and ignited it.