Going Up and Going Down (23 page)

He chuckled,
but I recognised the sound of a nervous swallowing on his part.

“Sweetheart, I
couldn’t possibly let myself fall for you. I couldn’t. I know what you do…go
with…other men. It’s just a gift…for a beautiful lady, and you are very special
to me, special moments. I care for you, Helen…but I’m not in love with you.”

I felt an icy
hand…of disappointment snatch at my heart, but I let it pass. It was on the tip
of my tongue – to say that if I did love him and if he loved me…I would give it
all up for him. But I didn’t! I didn’t really love him. We just had, like he
had said, special moments together –
don’t go confusing this with love, you
idiot
. And his denial sounded convincing enough. He handed me the envelope
with my payment, but I waved it away,

“I can’t do it,
David – I can’t take money off you. You’ve bought me a beautiful gift, and I’ve
had some excellent fun – let’s leave it at that. I can’t take money off you
again.”

“Accept the
gift for what it is, babe - just a treat for a special lady. I haven’t got
anyone else to spend my money on, apart from my two girls. I can afford it.
Take the money as well – it was a business transaction, after all. You deserve
it all. Now go! It’s not up for discussion. I will be back again in a couple of
months, I’ll ring you - and I’ll look forward to it.”

I quickly
gathered up my belongings, we had a hug, pecked each other on the cheek, and I
was out of there. And missing him already!

I was in the
changing rooms at work, my Monday shift was just ending and my mobile phone
started ringing. I recognised the phone number – the estate agents. I was half
expecting it. They had spoken to me two days previously, on the Friday, telling
me that they had received an offer on my parents’ house at last. The offer was
quite a few thousand below the asking price but they had advised me to wait a
little longer. Apparently, there was another couple very interested, who needed
to speak with their mortgage company before making their first offer.

I felt cold.
Since the call of two days ago, my O.C.D. had been quite bad. On Saturday I had
emptied the kitchen cupboards, cleaned them all out and put everything back.
Two hours later, I had repeated the whole process. Anthony had not gone out
that day, nor had he spoken to me, but every time he’d come into the kitchen, I
could feel his eyes burning into my back, I could almost visualise the
expressions he would have had on his face. He thought I was losing it.

Telling him
that I was going out with the girls from the Hopkins Partnership, I’d left the
house at six thirty and returned around midnight. In truth, I had visited a
client in his Belgravia apartment. It hadn’t been a particularly pleasant
experience, and it niggled me even more when I arrived home to find that
Anthony was not only at home, but he hadn’t gone to bed. I couldn’t help being
nasty to him, telling him it wouldn’t be long before I would be gone from the
house for good. I didn’t hang around downstairs too long. I thought it would be
more sensible to go to bed instead of causing yet another fracas.

The estate
agents’ words kept coming back to me before I finally dozed off, and I was
saddened again at the thought of my parents’ house being occupied by strangers.
A crazy idea suddenly occurred to me – I would go and live in my parents’ house
- it was mine now anyway, and Anthony could keep our house. That way, I would
sign our house over to Anthony. I would make sure he had no claim on what had
been my parents’ house.

When I had
woken up on the Sunday morning, I realised that my plan would be impossible. I
knew I couldn’t return to my Mum and Dad’s house. I had been coping better with
my grief since getting to know Thomas and to return to what had once been my
home, would have a detrimental effect on me and my ever present, O.C.D.

I finally
answered the call to be told that the first people had upped their offer to the
asking price, a cash buyer – they wanted the sale to go through as quickly as
possible. I told the agent to accept the offer and instruct my solicitor.

I kept it from
Anthony. I didn’t see the need to tell him. He didn’t even know about the villa
in Marbella, or the Paris apartment that Dad had purchased in my name whilst I
was in my teens. It was only after my fathers’ death that their solicitor had
informed me that I was already owner of the title deeds for both the villa and
apartment. I had been puzzled at the time as to why, Anthony, who had been
trusted by my father, had never been made privy to that little snippet of
information.

I’d been
chained to his bed for four hours seventeen minutes, and I’d been feeling
extremely pissed off since the first hour. He always paid me extra for the
hours involved, but I sometimes question whether it’s worth it. I detest this
bondage thing. I find it very restricting and I hate lying on my back unless I
am being fucked. Without freedom of movement, I am never able to achieve a
decent orgasm. Plus there’s the boredom of all his messing about to contend
with. The sexual action during the past few hours I’d been chained up had been
roughly ten minutes every half hour. That was barely much more than seventy or
eighty minutes in the time I’d been there. He left me chained to the bed all
the time, returning to his office on the ground floor to do some work - at
least that is what he claimed. I suspected he was searching the house for
anything he could find to shove inside me - phallic symbols.

During the last
four hours he’d used a candle, a banana, a vibrator, and the last idea he’d
just put to use, with its rough knob on the end - one of his microphones.

“I’ll still be
able to smell your fanny on it when I’m singing at my next gig.” he announced
as he removed it and proceeded to sniff every inch in delight, purely for
effect. I couldn’t help but wonder about his upbringing. I glowered at him but
I knew there was more to come. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift for a
short time – to pleasant memories of my other encounters – with David.

This guy also
had an obsession. Except for my panties, which he’d ripped off me and thrown
across the room, I was still fully clothed. Grey socks that came over my knees,
grey school skirt and cardigan, white blouse and school tie. I was attired like
a certain young pop star in one of her finest videos, and that famous track had
been playing on repeat in the background since I’d arrived.

I heard his
footsteps on the stairs again. I wondered what the hell he was going to poke me
with this time. Surprisingly enough, as he walked though the door I could see
that he didn’t have any objects in his hands. He was minus his T-shirt now and
his flies were undone – he looked quite attractive, his jet black hair with
plum coloured highlights slightly mussed.

“Okay, I’m
going to undo your shackles - you had better be good. I want you to oil my body
first, all over, every last inch of it, and I want you to do it sensually, not
like the masseuse at the parlour I was at yesterday, rough as fuck she was.”

Irritated by
his challenging remark, I was quick to defend myself.

“You know I do
a great job. That’s why you’ve called me a second time.”

He shrugged his
shoulders and pulled a face,

“Well you’ll
have to show me again, won’t you? I’ve forgotten. You will have to be good. I
don’t like naughty girls.” I felt relief at least, he was making positive
moves. I’d been in one position too long and I felt totally numb.

Once he’d
unfastened all my ties, he thrust the bottle of baby oil in my hand, turned his
back on me and peeled off his denims. From sitting on the edge of the bed, he
quickly flipped into a face down position without me catching even a glimpse of
his cock. I chuckled to myself and wondered if he’d turned shy all of a sudden.

I started on
his shoulders and gently massaged the oil in, careful not to use too much. As I
concentrated on smoothing out a few small knots of muscle, he moaned out loud,

“That feels
good. Keep at it.”

Rubbing every
inch of his back, slowly and in a sensual manner, I worked my way down towards
his firm and nicely rounded bottom. I teasingly rubbed one finger down his
crack and his body tensed as I taunted him with my finger dancing so near to
his anus.

“Tease it,
baby, tease it!” he urged. My client was bad, yet my whole body was aching to
be touched by him. I started shaking with my need and my head was telling me to
be brave, speed things up.

“Would you like
me to remove my clothes or should I remain the naughty schoolgirl?” I asked, in
my throatiest of voices. I was feeling hot, wanting him that very moment but I
still had work to do. I wondered what his fans would give to be in the room
with him right at that moment.

“Okay, as a
treat. Just leave the socks on, I fucking love the socks.”

Moving down his
thighs, I continued my torment of his body with one hand as I struggled to
remove the rest of my clothes. As the last item, my bra, landed on the floor, I
quickly got both hands to work again, still intent on mocking his thighs and
edging my fingers in between them towards his scrotum. When I reached the backs
of his knees I was amazed at how he squirmed beneath me. It was evidently a
very sensitive area for him and I caressed each, though only briefly. I was
getting impatient, I hadn’t had sex for a week and I was ready for it, hungry
for it. My every nerve was tingling as I oiled his bulging calves, his ankles –
and then I grabbed his waist and rolled him onto his back…

My eyes were
drawn straight to his cock and what surrounded it. I felt my eyes bulge out in
surprise. I’d found out why he kept his back to me when he got on the bed. The
backdrop behind his amazing shaft was fire, a very recent and painful looking
tattoo of fire - cavorting flames of fire, not a pubic hair in sight. Hell
fire!

“You, silly
little girl, I wasn’t ready to show you just yet!” he yelled, and sat bolt
upright, “Now bend over…no, over my thighs, you deserve a good slap for seeing
your present before I was ready to show it!”

I moved into
position, obeying his order and he spanked my backside…softly to start with.
Every twenty or so slaps he stopped and poked his fingers in and out of my
fanny for a few seconds. I didn’t want him to stop the poking, it had been
nice, my first hint of better things to come. I wanted him to keep shoving them
in. I was on fire like his wild crazy flames, I wanted to be shagged. I wanted
to let go of my juices, get my reward.

The slaps on my
arse kept coming and every session of slapping was getting harder and stinging
more, the fingers delved further inside me each time, rougher than before, his
nails seeking and finding my G spot. It was hurting, I was on fire, and…I was
almost salivating. As fast as the slapping started, it ceased without warning
when he rolled me off him and he was laid on his back again, his solid rock of
muscle almost tapping on my lips. I chewed gently at the edge of his knob and
tantalised his foreskin with my tongue, careful to avoid catching his ring
piercing with my teeth. He whimpered as I fondled his scrotum at the same time.

Reaching out
with both hands he stretched towards me to cup my breasts and nip hard on each
of my buds. I squealed out in pain …and delight. I took the whole of his knob
in my mouth and sucked, tracing my tongue all around the edge, slowly working
my hand up and down that beautiful rod, the rod of steel that nearly reached
his navel. Faster and faster with my hands and I took almost the full extent of
him into my mouth and I could feel his throbbing through my gums, my tongue and
my teeth. I could taste his release of pre-cum, hear the guttural noises trying
to escape his lips, and he reluctantly lifted my head away from his cock.

“Quick, sit on
top of him. You want his full length don’t you?”

I could hardly
answer, my breathing felt so heavy, and every inch of me wanting his shaft to fuck
me. I moved to straddle him and before I was in position I could feel the gold
ring rub against my labia and I lowered myself heavily and felt his hardness
push its way into my depths, thick, throbbing and probing. Clenching my inner
muscles around it I held it tight - the tighter I clenched, the more I felt his
throbbing piece of machinery. My excitement was ready to peak.

I gripped
tightly and for a few seconds it almost felt as if he was going to come, but I
knew him better than that, he had excellent control. I waited and the impending
release subsided. I started to ride him, pushing my clit down onto his pubic
bone and rubbing it against his artwork. He squeezed a hand between our lower
bellies and fingered my clit, flicking, nipping until I could feel my own
climax start. With his free arm around my waist he pulled me along, joining in
with my rhythm.

“It’s time,
baby, let your creamy juices come onto my flames now.  Rub your clit, baby, feel
it, fuck my cock and cum.”

I tightened my
muscles around his shaft once more and held it tight whilst I rode on,
imagining my fanny to be squeezing his juices out of him, and that thought
brought about my explosion. I shuddered as my wetness seeped around his cock. I
collapsed onto his chest and he eased me over onto my back and parted my legs.
I expected him to start fucking me, but he lowered himself down the bed and put
a pillow under my bottom. His put his tongue to work this time, my clit still
hard, the spasms of my orgasm not yet silenced. He worked quickly, thrusting
his tongue into my crevice greedily, his hand firmly pressing circles over my
clit, one finger occasionally poking into me, vying with his tongue.

“Your fanny juices
taste delicious…so sweet…so sweet, baby.”

He put his
hands under my cheeks and raised my bottom in the air and I felt his tongue
around my anus, licking, teasing…I arched my back in anticipation. He carefully
lowered my bottom onto his little finger, and he rammed two fingers of his
other hand into my hole and sucked at my clitoris, and I pushed down onto all
his fingers and my body was racked with the throes of my second orgasm. Damp
with perspiration, sore, and shaking, I felt drunk with ecstasy.

“I’m going to
fuck you from behind now. I’m going to hurt you. You like being hurt, don’t
you? You deserve to be hurt, don’t you? Too many treats for one day, don’t you
think?”

I was
breathless.

“Answer me!”

“Yes. Too many
treats…I deserve to be hurt.” I whispered, as I turned over and he stuffed the
pillow beneath me to raise my bottom into the air.

Not prepared
for the force with which he entered me, I screamed out as the top of my head
was shoved up hard against the headboard. His cock felt like it was trying to
break through my cervix. Each time he shoved harder than before and my stomach
was wracked with pain at each ramming, his gold ring scratching its way to the
top of my burning depths. He pounded and pounded, his balls slapping against me
and after ten minutes, the telltale twitching of orgasm. He gripped me tight,
stopped pounding, pushed his cock harder inside me, and ceased all movement,
and I felt the intensity of every last spurt of his spunk pumping as he
climaxed with loud groans of satisfaction.

Ninety minutes
later I was back at home. Anthony eyed me suspiciously as I walked through the
lounge and straight upstairs to bed but I wasn’t in the mood to converse with
him. I needed to climb into my bed and sleep…after I’d relived the latter part
of today’s business meeting in my mind.