Intimate Exposure (7 page)

“Pinch it. Give it a little twist. Roll it between your finger and thumb.”

It was nothing more than she did when she was masturbating, alone in her bedroom or the bathroom. She’d done it a hundred times, playing with herself and fantasizing. But here, in the back of a speeding car, it was exquisitely new and perverse. Her eyes flicked to the silhouette of their driver through the tinted glass divider.

“He can’t see you.” Red’s smile was slow, not exactly taunting, but silky. “Perhaps we should let him? He’s a man, he’d enjoy seeing you fondling your breast…” He shrugged.

“Perhaps not. We don’t want him to put the Rolls into a tree when he’s distracted.” His lambent eyes narrowed. “Come on, Vicki, you’re not doing as you’re told. Pinch your nipple.”

She obeyed.

“Harder.”

She hissed through her teeth as the small pain intensified, and her urges fought a battle inside her. Obedience versus the urge not to hurt herself. The urge to stay still and stoic versus the rampant desire to wriggle voluptuously, fueling the growing ache between her legs.

“A little harder.”

Oh God, it was really hurting now. She had to gasp. She had to wriggle. She couldn’t help herself.

Red surveyed her with Buddha-like calm, his face almost passive, as if unmoved by the show she was putting on. Slowly, he raised a hand to his jaw and began to stroke his beard, fingers moving rhythmically.

“Yes, I like that,” he said at last. “I like the noises you make… Make more of them. Here, let me.” Without warning, he reached across, dashed her fingers away and tweaked at her nipple himself, and with far more pressure than she’d dare exert.

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

Vicki wasn’t quite sure if she’d exclaimed aloud. Probably not. The burning in the tip of her breast was so befuddling she couldn’t form words. She just moaned, long and low, then gasped and panted hard as Red drew her breast out from her rib cage to form a soft cone. Her legs flailed as if he were tugging just as purposefully on her clitoris.

“What do you want, Vicki?” Still tormenting her, he leaned close and sighed the words in her ear, his breath sweet from the champagne, the fragrance of his body a thousand times more intoxicating.

“I-I don’t know,” she stammered, tossing her head. She was afloat on a sea of exquisite erotic distress, buoyed up by the tiny, viselike pain in her nipple. It was unrelenting, and even as he increased the pressure, Red kissed the side of her face, her jaw and her throat. The delicacy of the kisses and the brushing sensation of his soft beard were a counterpoint to the torment in her breast.

“Oh, you do.” His tongue flicked out to lick at the corner of her mouth.

“I want to come,” she blurted out, the words muffled by the proximity of Red’s mouth. “I need to come… It hurts!” She wasn’t sure whether she was talking about her breast or the acute tension between her legs.

Red laughed softly against her mouth. “And so you shall. But you have to earn it. We’re nowhere near yet.” With that he began to kiss her again. Slowly and thoroughly on the mouth this time, bestowing upon a her delicious exploration, and stroking with his tongue while his fingertips still delicately wielded their torture.

Vicki groaned and groaned into Red’s mouth, incapable of doing more than receiving his intrusion. Vaguely she was aware of her own hands resting on the leather seat at either side of her, immobilized not by any physical force, but by the simple fact that Red hadn’t given her permission to move them.

This was a new depth of arousal, a new kind of sex. Like nothing before. Not even her experience in the gym had come close to it. After the spanking, she’d rushed into the shower and quickly brought herself off. But she knew that if that hadn’t been possible, her body would have settled down anyway.

Not so now.

If I don’t come soon, I’ll die, I swear it.

Both the punishment to her breast and the sweet, sweet kisses were fatal.

But all of a sudden, both sensations ended. Red released her nipple and sat back, studying her face.

“You are beautiful,” he said solemnly. “I’ve never seen a woman quite so lovely in submission.”

Vicki gaped at him, stunned by both his words and the physical messages still rampaging through her body, bouncing from her mind to her breast to her empty sex.

“You’re more lovely than O could ever have been. Because you’re a real woman, Vicki, not some skinny, stylized Parisienne.”

Do I speak? Am I allowed to?

She opened her mouth, but Red forestalled her with his fingertips over her lips. Pressing lightly, he forced her to part them, then pushed two fingers into her mouth. On a pure reflex, Vicki began to suckle, unsure why, but aroused even more by action.

Red laughed softly, his own mouth widening in a gleeful smile. Vicki’s eyes widened, too, when he briefly fondled his own crotch.

“Come on,” he said, sliding his fingertips from between her lips and also relinquishing his bulging erection. With infinite tenderness, he tucked some stray strands of hair behind her ears. “You’re too covered up, my sweet. You’re not accessible. Remember how Rene and Sir Stephen preferred O to dress?”

Vicki nodded. She thought about the clothes she’d packed for this trip, and suddenly her heart gave a great knock inside her chest.

It’s impossible. How could I have known this was going to happen? That he’d be here?

Rather than a selection of trousers and jeans for casual wear, she’d packed mainly skirts, and tops and blouses that buttoned at the front. Suspender belts and stockings rather than tights.

Her hands flew to the buttons of her little cotton cardigan, but Red gently dashed them away and unfastened it himself. He tut-tutted at the sight of camisole and bra, and to her astonishment reached into his inner jacket pocket and drew out a narrow mother-of-pearl-encased switchblade. A second later, with terrifying speed and perfect precision, he slashed the straps of both, slit them up the front, then drew both garments away.

Leaving Vicki sitting there in just her cotton cardigan, her breasts naked. Her nipples were rudely erect, the left one still cherry red from being pinched.

Red tossed her ruined clothing to one side and plucked at her skirt. “Lift your bottom from the seat. Remove your panties, then slide your skirt from beneath you and sit down directly on the leather.”

Just like O.

Her pussy was hot and sticky against the cool silky hide of the car seat. The sensation of her bare skin against the leather was so sensual that Vicki gasped out loud, crumpling her panties in her fingers as she almost came from the intensity of it.

Red’s eyes gleamed in fiery approval, even though his bearded face was impassive again. He lounged back at his end of the seat, relaxed as he reached for his champagne flute.

“Play with your breasts a little more. Not pinching this time, just stroking. I’d like to see you move a little, and to hear you moan. But you mustn’t allow yourself to come just yet.”

Pleasuring herself was far more embarrassing than the pain had been and Vicki blushed furiously. She’d never allowed a man to see her masturbate before. It was far too private.

“Vicki…”

Her name was a whisper…and a warning. Of what, she wasn’t sure, but the worst thing she could imagine was that he’d tell her to forget it and that the game was over.

Nervous and hungry to please him, she strummed her nipples slowly with her fingertips, immediately gasping at their heightened sensitivity. Each light touch was a tongue licking her clitoris. Each light touch brought her dangerously near to orgasm.

What am I doing? I don’t even think I actually like you, Red Webster, yet you can make me do anything. Make me want to
do
anything.
Everything.
Just to please you.

Red tried to relax, to sit back, watch the show and be the master. It had never been more difficult in his life.

Desire whirled up in him like a rampaging wind, rattling against the railings of his control as Vicki’s fingers danced. He wanted to plunge at her, man as savage. Take her, have her, punish her, savor her like the fine wine in his glass and drown in everything about her. Her pain. Her pleasure. Her growing enlightenment and her instinctive grasp of everything about the game.

But he couldn’t do that. For all her obvious affinity for the dance of power and punishment, she was still a novice and he couldn’t go roaring wild with her in the way his body wanted to. He couldn’t grab her and haul her across his lap and smack her bottom until she
sobbed, racked by the same lust that tormented him, unable to keep still. He couldn’t arrange her somehow, anyhow, across the limousine’s broad, comfortable seat, then plunge his agonized cock deep, deep into her and fill her up with his hard aching flesh. Fill her and fill her again until they both overflowed into a hot red orgasm.

As Vicki watched Red’s eyes track her fingers, her mind spun. This strange man and the hold he had over her intoxicated her body and her senses. And yet, rationally, she knew he was the same person who’d annoyed and teased back at work.

How could that be? Had her mind shut off all that and left just her body and her libido in charge?

Her circling fingers moved with barely any conscious volition. They glided. They squeezed. Faster and faster, locked in an irresistible vortex. Tension and arousal gathered between her legs, creating a sensation that wasn’t pain yet which gouged at her all the same. Unable to control herself, she shifted her bottom about on the leather, the sticky slide of her pussy unbearably lewd.

Lost in dark enchantment, she closed her eyes and listened to her own moans and grunts, harsh and wild.

“Sublime, Vicki…just sublime,” Red whispered. “Now, lift your skirt and part your legs. Show me your pussy, and show me how you play with yourself. I want to see everything.”

Some last vestiges of rationality finally stalled her. Vicki’s eyes flew open. Oh no, not this…not her most private pleasure.

“I can’t…”

“You must, Vicki. Part of the game is that you can’t deny me anything.” His voice was stern and thrilling. “If you want this to end, we can stop right now. I’ll get out here, get a taxi home…and you can have a quiet weekend all on your own.”

A quiet
dull
weekend, he seemed to be saying.

The last vestiges of stubborn, annoyed Vicki wanted to say,
“Right. Fine. Fine by me.”

But it was impossible. It’d be like stopping breathing to refuse him. With trembling hands, she hitched up her skirt and parted her legs.

“Here, let me help you.”

Putting his cool hands on her, Red positioned her body, making her lean back against the deep upholstery, one leg stretched out into the footwell, the other across his own lap, her thighs stretched achingly wide and her pussy completely exposed.

But even that didn’t satisfy him. After a moment’s perusal, he slid his hand beneath her and tilted her pelvis even more, so she was even more open and displayed.

The smell of sex filled the car, and Vicki prayed that the car’s tinted glass was truly one-way. If it wasn’t, anyone could look in and see her stretched out with her sex on show, pink and moist and glistening.

“Now continue.” Red’s gaze held hers, his fierce intensity hypnotic at such close quarters.

Trembling, Vicki cupped her breast with her left hand and slid her right hand between her legs. Her own swimming wetness amazed her, appalled her. She’d never been like this before. She always enjoyed sex but had sometimes been slow to manifest the physical signs of arousal.

But not with Red Webster. He’d never even touched her clit, and yet she was running like a river for him.

She began to masturbate, feeling both shy and brazen. It was like being a novice, a virgin, almost, yet at the same time a queen of voluptuous lust. Red’s presence seemed to somehow warp reality.

She could barely think, only revel in her senses.

Red himself didn’t touch her. All he did was observe, his unusual eyes glinting, his mouth curved in a slight, sensual smile. And yet as Vicki fingered her clit and twisted and tweaked at her nipples again, she was connected to him, deeply and directly. Despite her initial embarrassment, now she couldn’t look away from him. She just went on slicking, slicking, slicking at herself, her eyes locked with his.

The slight smile widened, and in her head she heard the words,
Good girl. Good girl.

You bastard! You bastard! You bastard!

Silently chanting, she glared back, feeling their wills lock and mate with each other. She could taste the sensual wickedness and devilment that drove him. It was what she felt too. They were matched, a complementary pair

I bet you think you’ve seen everything, don’t you?

His dark head tilted, as if he’d heard her unvoiced taunt.

Well, watch this!

A sudden, outrageous inspiration flashed across her mind, dredged up from some dark, perverse corner she’d never reached before. Aware of Red’s eyes glittering behind their lenses, she reached for the small champagne bottle, put it to her lips and upended it, swallowing all that was left of the superb wine but barely tasting it.

When the bottle was dry, she reversed it in her hand and, tilting her hips even more, positioned the glass neck of it against the slippery entrance to her sex.

Red gasped. Triumph surged through Vicki so powerfully that she almost came instantaneously. But somehow, she managed to control the intense waves of pleasure, and slid the neck of the bottle slowly into her body.

“Oh Vicki, Vicki, Vicki,” Red breathed as she began to pump her makeshift dildo in and out. And as her hot flesh clenched hungrily at the cool, silky glass, her elation soared and rocketed with the same intensity as her pleasure.

There was nothing impassive and detached about Red Webster now. He was lit from within by lust, and across his cheekbones there was a high flush of arousal. He swallowed, and his white teeth flashed, his smile not mocking or amused anymore but shot through with wonder.