Bare, White and Rosy Read online

  ‘Slowly, little one,’ he urged. ‘Do you need to be taught how to do it? Maybe you do. First lick my balls while you bring me erect in your hand.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ I answered as I let his shaft slip from my mouth.

  ‘I prefer ‘‘Mr Yoshida’’,’ he told me. ‘Now then. You will use your mouth on me for a while and I will come in your mouth. Then, after a rest, we will play a little game. Have you ever been tied? I mean properly secured, so that you are absolutely helpless.’

  I nodded, now with my tongue out as I licked his balls and tugged gently on his rapidly growing cock. He was still drinking his Champagne and began to stroke my hair, watching my face and the sway of my breasts as I worked on him. What he’d said about needing to be taught had got to me, no doubt on purpose, and I gave of my best, licking and sucking his balls, running my tongue up and down his shaft to tickle the underside of his foreskin, kissing his helmet and sucking it quickly in between my lips.

  That finally broke his resolve. He gave a soft moan, wound his hand into my hair and pulled my head down on to his erection. I did my best to suck properly and not to gag, but he seemed determined to fuck my throat. His suave persona had vanished. He’d dropped his Champagne, spilling the glass down his front and into my hair, freeing his second hand, which he twisted into my hair, painfully hard. Still I struggled to play the willing little fuck slut, and not bite or throw up in his lap. He was oblivious, calling me a bitch, a slut and worse, first in English, then in French, but as he changed his grip to hold me firmly by the ears he broke completely, swearing in Japanese and thrusting his cock as deep as it would go down my aching throat.

  I was choking, and about to twist his balls for him, when his body suddenly froze, every muscle rigid as he gave a last cry and spunked down my throat. Only by a frantic, painful swallow did I prevent the lot coming back out by way of my nose, and when he finally let go I was left gasping and retching, with tears running from my eyes. A slimy mixture of spunk and spittle ran down my chin to fall in wet gouts on to my boobs and down my blouse, but I was dizzy from the lack of air and too far gone to mind about soiling my clothes. He certainly didn’t care, lying back with a long, satisfied sigh, but then he’d only got his shirt and trousers a little wet, while my hair was dripping with Champagne and my face and breasts soiled.

  ‘Very good,’ he said after a while. ‘You do it well, in fact. I am sorry if it was maybe a little painful, but a woman must learn to accept a man as he is and not how she might wish him to be, is that not so?’

  I made a vague gesture, not wanting to argue. My own glass was where I’d put it down when I was ordered on to my knees. I retrieved it and swallowed the contents gratefully, then poured myself another. His glass had survived being dropped and he held it out for more, which I provided.

  ‘I need to clean up a little,’ I told him.

  ‘Stay as you are,’ he instructed. ‘I enjoy seeing what sex does to a woman. You had gone to such trouble to make yourself perfect, and now look at you. Your hair is a state, your clothes dishevelled and dirty, your fat English breasts shiny with sweat and my come.’

  I managed a weak smile, wondering whether he knew more about me than he’d admitted, including my taste in sex, or was simply a complete bastard. Either way he had me where he wanted me, because I had little choice but to do as I was told if I wanted to impress him, and that knowledge alone would have been enough to make me horny, without being made to crawl and strip and suck and swallow.

  ‘Do you want me nude?’ I offered.

  ‘No,’ he responded. ‘I like you as you are. I’ll even let you keep your panties, but show me the front.’

  I knelt up, opening my legs and tugging my skirt up until I was sure the bulge of my pussy would be showing to him. My panties matched my bra, black and lacy and very expensive, hopefully to his taste. He nodded, saying nothing but inspecting what I was showing, once more calm and reserved. I’d began to tremble again, and I knew I was wet for him, so wet that even if the black silk hid the stain he could hardly fail to smell me.

  ‘You have taste,’ he finally remarked. ‘Black silk is appropriate for a young business woman, I suppose, although personally I prefer plain white, which evokes simplicity and innocence.’

  I nodded, all too familiar with the Japanese taste in girls’ underwear, white cotton worn taut over full bottom cheeks and a shaved pussy, an image pinched from the British. With luck that wasn’t the only home-grown kink he’d taken on board.

  ‘Do you like to spank?’ I asked.

  ‘No,’ he told me. ‘I like to tie girls up. If I choose to beat you it will be with a strap or cane. But not you, I think. You are too knowing, too in control of your feelings. I have something rather different in mind for you.’

  He sounded genuinely evil, alarmingly so, which must have shown on my face because he laughed before going on.

  ‘Don’t look so scared, little one. I do not intend to hurt you. Your concierge knows I am with you, does he not? Yes, he does, so relax and let me take you somewhere you have never been before. Get on the bed.’

  I hesitated, but only for a moment. He was a little frightening, but I was safe enough.

  ‘My safe word is ‘‘red’’,’ I told him. ‘You’ll honour that, won’t you?’

  ‘Naturally,’ he assured me. ‘Merely say it and I shall stop, immediately. Roll over on to your front and put your arms behind your back.’

  As he spoke he took several coils of rope from his pocket. They were quite thin but looked soft, and each was a different colour, red, black and white. Again I hesitated, but did as I was told, my bare boobs squashing out against the bed cover as I got into position. He took hold of my arms, first securing my wrists before making a criss-cross of red rope up to my elbows, pulling my arms back and forcing my chest out. With my elbows tied off, he worked the rope back down to my wrists and fixed them securely in the small of my back with a double loop around my waist.

  I began to shake, very conscious of my helplessness, making my boobs and belly quiver as he moved me this way and that. He took no notice, concentrating on his ropework. After satisfying himself that my arms were immobile he paused to push up my skirt, leaving it high up on my hips so that my knickers were fully exposed. I let him manipulate me, my emotions growing stronger by the moment as he removed my bra and opened my blouse to get at my breasts. He took the black rope, looped it around my chest and tied it at the front.

  My breasts were already thrust high, and he wound each with rope in turn, tightening it just enough to make them bulge and redden, leaving two long tails of black rope lying down my front. I’d begun to kick a little, not voluntarily, but overcome by my helplessness, and he had to take a tight grip on my ankles before he could lash them together. Now unable even to walk, I could only lie shivering on the bed as the rope was led up one leg and tied off in a loop around my knee. He rolled me fully on to my back and pushed my legs up, spreading my bottom and pussy within my panties and making me vulnerable to his cock.

  The white rope was pulled around behind my back, tied into the red and taken around to my other knee, looped off and led back to my ankles. He’d spread my knees, leaving my breasts pushing out between them and my bottom straining against the seat of my panties, while it was all I could do to wriggle my fingers and toes or shake my head.

  Taking hold of my body, he drew me down the bed until my bottom was sticking out over the end. I realised I was almost certainly going to be fucked, or sodomised if it amused him. All he needed to do was turn down my panties and I’d be bare, while I was so wet that the juice had begun to trickle down between my bum cheeks. His cock had begun to stiffen again too, simply from tying me up, but he hadn’t finished. Apparently satisfied, he stood back to admire his handiwork, only to delve into his other pocket and extract two more coils of rope, both purple.

  He tied them to the rope holding my ankles together and led them out to the bedposts, leaving me able to wriggle my body but with barely an
inch of pull in any direction for my feet. I could see why, because I could squirm my bottom and make my tits jiggle as he dealt with me, but there was no escape. Only when he had tied off the final knot did he allow himself a smile. He’d left his cock out from start to finish, occasionally stroking it, but he now took it in hand, rolling his foreskin back and forth as he looked down on me.

  I’d assumed he’d torment me in some way, perhaps carry out his threat of taking a strap to my bottom, or rubbing something on to my nipples and sex to make them sting. Instead he seemed content to have me in bondage, only reaching out occasionally and then to run his fingers over the knots and sections of taut rope as frequently as my skin. It was certainly turning him on, because, although he’d come less than an hour before, his cock was quickly hard. But his casual attention to my body left me boiling with frustration.

  ‘Do it,’ I told him. ‘Fuck me, or anything you like . . . please.’

  His mouth twitched briefly, a tiny movement but rich with cruelty and delight. Again he began to touch me, running a knuckle over the taut skin of one tightly bound breast, briefly catching my nipple and pulling it up, only to begin to stroke the knot between them. He was leaning over me as he did it, and I could feel his cock, now fully hard and nudging the tuck of my bottom and the seat of my panties.

  ‘Pull them down, fuck me,’ I demanded.

  He nodded, his hand moved to my spread sex and he pulled the gusset of my knickers to one side, baring my pussy to his erection. I sighed as it went in, sliding deep up me with one easy push, and I’d got what I wanted. He took hold of my breasts, squeezing them as he fucked me, moving his cock in and out with long, slow motions that quickly had me wriggling against him for more.

  I knew he was getting off on my inability to control my reaction to what he’d done to me. The more I squirmed on his cock and begged to be fucked harder, the more he’d enjoy it, but I couldn’t stop myself. With my hands free I’d have been masturbating, always a girl’s last choice for freedom of expression if she’s not getting what she needs. I had no way to touch myself, and my frustration was soon greater than my pleasure, setting me wriggling in my bonds and pleading for more.

  Then I got it, sudden, hard and unexpected. One moment he’d been easing himself in and out and enjoying my boobs, far more casual than any man with his cock in a girl has a right to be. The next he had gone berserk, swearing in mingled French and Japanese, his hands locked like claws on my aching breasts and his cock jamming in and out of my hole so hard and deep that he had me screaming with the first thrust.

  He’d come so recently that I knew I’d be fucked sore, and I was as out of control as before. Now I was over the brink, lost to pleasure as he rammed himself home inside me harder and harder, his thrusts rising to a furious crescendo that brought me as close to orgasm as I can get from just the friction of cock and cunt. Then he stopped. I lay gasping, my body shaking, expecting him to take a moment to get his breath back and then begin again. Instead he slid his cock from my pussy and climbed on to the bed.

  ‘Suck me clean,’ he ordered, pushing himself at my mouth.

  I realised that he’d done it inside me after all, and gaped, taking him in to suck my juices from his cock and swallow them down. He spent a while in my mouth, still hard, and as he slid himself slowly in and out between my lips his hand went to my sex. I pushed back, wriggling my eager, spread cunt on his hand as he began to knead me through my panties, until I was on the brink of orgasm. He stopped, eased his cock from my mouth and climbed from the bed to look down at my helpless, sweaty body with the expression of amused contempt I was coming to both love and hate.

  ‘That should do. I think,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ I answered, ‘not quite. I haven’t come.’

  His smile grew crueller and he reached out to tweak one straining nipple, making me jerk in my bonds.

  ‘Do it,’ I sighed. ‘Make me come.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Please?’

  ‘I think not.’

  ‘Please, Anton? Just rub me a little. I was nearly there!’

  ‘I know,’ he told me.

  ‘Then make me come. Please make me come, Anton. You can’t be that cruel!’

  ‘Can’t I? I rather think I can be as cruel as I please.’

  I began to sob, no longer able to speak for my frustration, and at that he suddenly began to tug on his cock again. He hadn’t come at all, but he was going to now, over my bound body as I lay racked with sobs and begging for release. I knew that, but I still couldn’t stop myself.

  ‘No, not that, you pig! Anton, please, just rub me off! You can spunk on my pussy and rub it in. Think how humiliated I’d be. Or in my face . . . yes, do it in my face while you rub me off. Please, Anton, please . . . I’m begging you! I’m begging you to spunk in my face, you inconsiderate bastard! Oh, for fuck’s sake, Anton!’

  He’d done it, all over my feet. I collapsed, limp and exhausted, and defeated too. Yet surely he would now take mercy on me?

  ‘I have seldom met such a slut,’ he remarked as he milked the last drop of sperm from his cock.

  I nodded. He wiped his cock on my skirt.

  ‘That was most amusing,’ he said, ‘but thirsty work.’

  He poured himself another glass of Champagne, swallowed half of it, spent a moment examining the label with a critical eye and returned to the bed, where he stood over me. I looked up from hazy eyes, sure that whatever I said he would merely make it an excuse to torment me. It was better to stay silent and hope he’d grow bored with the game. He’d untie me and I could finish myself off in front of him as a final degradation.

  ‘Champagne?’ he offered.

  I nodded, opening my mouth. He raised the bottle, holding it over me, and tipped with care, pouring the cool liquid into my mouth. He also splashed my face, then moved lower and poured it over my breasts. My skin was hot and taut from the binding and the Champagne felt wonderful, but it was trickling down my cleavage and around my chest, wetting the bed.

  ‘We have to sleep in this!’ I protested, but I was pushing my hips out again.

  He merely shrugged and continued to spoil me, wetting my jacket and blouse, my bare tummy, my skirt and the front of my panties, a sensation so lovely it had me writhing again.

  ‘Please, yes, with the bottle, go on, rub me off with the bottle. Oh, thank you . . . thank you so much!’

  As I pleaded he pulled my panties aside and rubbed the cold, hard glass between my pussy lips. I almost came at the first touch, only to have the bottle neck moved lower, pressing to my hole, and in. He tipped it up and I groaned as I felt my cunt fill with cold Champagne. It was going to be lovely, perfect, a climax to beat all climaxes, just as soon as he put the bottle back on my clit.

  ‘Now, do it!’ I begged. ‘Just do it, you pig!’

  He gave the bottle a shake and I gasped as I felt my pussy swell in the sudden gush of bubbles. My muscles were burning and twitching, my hole contracting on the bottle neck and my bumhole squeezing, my whole body on a plateau of ecstasy just short of orgasm. I moaned as the bottle eased free. He let go of my panties, which snapped back just in time to receive what had been put up me, a single heavy gush that made the silk bulge and burst out around my bottom cheeks.

  ‘Now!’ I screamed and the bottle neck pressed between my lips.

  ‘No.’

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. He had to do it, but he had stepped away, and merely emptied the last inch of Champagne over my naked belly and the ropes binding my feet.

  ‘No,’ he repeated, and began to put his cock away.

  I watched, shaking violently, sure he would come back to me. He didn’t, but tidied himself up, taking his time as I came slowly back from the edge of ecstasy. Finally I spoke.

  ‘You are going to make me come, aren’t you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Come on, Anton, it’s only fair. You’ve come twice! Look, I mean it. Red! Red, red, red, red, red!’

 
‘I’ve stopped, haven’t I?’

  ‘That’s not what I mean, and you know it! Come on, don’t be a pig!’

  He laughed.

  ‘Oh all right, just untie me then.’

  ‘I think not.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think I’ll leave you as you are.’

  ‘OK, the game’s over, Anton.’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said as he moved towards the door. ‘You like to be punished, I suspect? This is your punishment.’

  ‘No, Anton!’ I squealed, beginning to panic. ‘Not really punished. Hey, don’t go!’

  ‘You deserve to be punished,’ he informed me, and laughed as he opened the door. ‘I am always amused when people try to manipulate me, especially when it is a pretty girl. Ciao.’

  ‘What do you mean, manipulate you?’ I demanded. ‘You’ve got it all wrong!’

  ‘I rather doubt that. I know exactly who you are, Natasha, because when you played your little gambit with the waitress I took the precaution of finding out. You’re manager for that old fool Gilbert Hambling and his cabbage-eating partner, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but . . . but this is starting to hurt, Anton.’

  ‘Oh, it will be quite painful. Let us hope that teaches you a lesson.’

  ‘OK, OK, I’ve been taught my lesson. Not let me go!’

  ‘No. Good-night.’

  ‘Anton! I’ll scream. I’ll call the police!’

  ‘I doubt that. You are a respectable business woman. It would never do for the police to find you like this. However, if you are going to I suggest doing it quickly. Think how much more embarrassing it would be if they found you with those pretty panties sodden with piddle and bulging out around a pound or two of turd.’

  ‘You bastard! Look, at least loosen the knots on my wrists so I have a chance, please? I’m begging you, Anton.’

  He paused, making a doubtful face, then spoke again.

  ‘Oh, very well, as you have provided me with such an amusing evening. I shall give you a chance.’