And with that, he seizes me, flipping me onto my back and forcing my thighs apart. With a hand to
either side, he stretches my pussy wide open and plants his mouth over me, plunging in deep, fucking
me with his tongue, before tracing the lines of my folds and clit with the tip.
With a howl, I explode into orgasm. Every nerve ending afire, my body shaking and my brain reeling,
climax claims me. White-hot and all-consuming, it burns through me as I scream and writhe against my
own flesh and the grip of….
…. of my Master….
Racked, I lie panting and exhausted as he stands over me, smiling and wiping his mouth. Looking up,
still quivering in the aftermath, I watch as he strips off his tie, then sits beside me again. Taking my
wrists, he loops the tie around; it’s only loose, I could slip out if I wanted, but I don’t; then, pushing my
arms over my head, he binds my hands to the bars of the bed-head.
Saying nothing, he unbuttons his shirt and unbelts his pants, releasing his erection. It stands, quivering
to a pulse beat, upright against his stomach.
“I’m going to fuck you now, Kirstie,” he says. “I’m pleased with you; that you have learned how to
address me. And now, you may have more of your reward. First, you may have my cock inside your
pussy, and then you may have it in your mouth while I come.”
My pussy, despite the tectonic climax it just experienced, still pulses with sexual heat. And as he
positions himself between my thighs, slowly pressing into me, it clutches and quivers around him.
He thrusts hard, ramming into me, just once, and a primordial howl bursts from me.
“That’s right, Kirstie. Scream for me. Let me hear you as I fuck you.” And he pistons home again, but
this time, he keeps thrusting, driving into me.
I don’t quite believe it, but once more orgasm starts to pool in my core, building up a momentum fuelled
by Ryan’s relentless hammering
Utterly lost, it takes me again, and raw erotic pleasure sends me screaming over the edge once more.
His mouth plants over mine as I climax, my body bucking and jerking under the weight of his.
At the last moment, he withdraws, swinging over me to straddle my chest. Forcing my mouth open with
his fingers, he pushes his shaft, slick with my juices, between my lips. I can’t move easily, bound as I
am, but I raise my head to take him, and almost immediately, he comes; spurting hot, shooting sweet
cream over my tongue as I lap and suck and mouth at his thick, beautiful cock.
With a gasp and a judder, he drops to all fours over me, his penis still resting against my face, a little
cum still trickling out and over my lips.
At first, he doesn’t speak, simply remaining, head held low, breathing heavily.
Eyes still closed, “That was…. incredible.” he says. Then he opens his eyes and stoops to kiss me,
softly on the forehead, and then on the mouth. “Thank you, Kirstie.” Pulling himself from atop me, he
perches by me on the side of the bed, unravelling the tie from my wrists. As he frees me, he pulls me
up into his arms, his face resting by mine.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m good. That was wonderful.”
“Here,” he passes me my glass. “drink your wine.”
We lie together in a warm quiet, simply enjoying each other. After a while, I say “Ryan?”
“Mmmm?”
“What did you mean? When you said, ‘this is yours’?”
His gaze is slow and sensual. “Kirstie, I know we met on a ‘casual only’ basis. That’s what you wanted
and so did I. But it’s different now. I find I have acquired the taste for a relationship with the woman I’m
fucking.” Then he chuckles. “And as for your comments about men not liking intelligent women,
speaking for myself, I find that intelligence and an erotic outlook are a fantastic combination in a
woman. and you are proving that for me.
“Kirstie,” he continues, “I don’t want to share you. I know you have a past. So do I for that matter. And if
you want to go to your clubs with me, that’s fine. But I don’t want to share you. I want you to be mine.”
And he falls silent.
Waiting for my response?
“That’s good,” I say, “because I don’t want to share you either.”
He smiles and sits back, sipping his wine, his expression thoughtful.
“Tell me about ‘redbreast’ and ‘ravens’,” he says. “I expected you to simply give me ‘yellow’ and ‘red’ or
something similar. It sounds as though there is a story behind the two words.”
“It’s from when I was a little girl,” I say. “There were ravens at the bottom of our garden, and when I was
small, they seemed so huge.”
“You were frightened of them?”
“Yes. They felt like monsters from some fairy tale to me.”
“And redbreast?”
“The other bird I always saw in the garden was a robin. He used to follow my father around when he
was digging the ground. Dad would toss worms and leather-jackets to him. He was a friendly little thing.
I loved him, and I always put out food and water for him in the winter. He was a sort of childhood
friend.”
Ryan nods. “Nice story.” he smiles.
I shiver a little, a frisson against the cooling air. Glancing around, I see a robe hanging from the door
and get out of bed for it.
As I stand, my hips are creaking. “Are you alright?” he asks as I wince.
“Just a bit sore,” I admit sheepishly.
“Good,” he says, “I want you sore. It will remind who it is that’s made you sore.” he pats the bedclothes.
“Now, put on the robe, then come back here. Let me keep the ravens away for you.”
*****
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