Divertissement Read online

  He almost chuckled aloud, watching her face as she tried to process that request with a mind fogged with arousal and excitement. She managed it though.

  “Yes please,” she replied. “And I really need to pee.”

  “Go along,” he replied, giving her a slap on her arse. “And while you’re there, take a shower and put on the garment I’ve laid out for you.”

  He called it a “garment”—a red leather belt with interesting loops and studs. Not that she’d ever complain about anything John wanted. Well, almost anything. She did have her limits, but he respected them totally and life around him was incredible. No. “Incredible” was wildly insufficient to describe it. John brought joy and sex into her life. Filled up the empty pits left by Edward’s death, and renewed in her the perfect pleasure of total submission.

  And if she took too long showering he’d no doubt give her a few extra swipes of the damn cane.

  She was ready quickly, taking time to rub her body with the sandalwood-scented oil he always kept for her, before adjusting and buckling the belt around her waist. It was impossible not to notice the twin rings were exactly on each side.

  Restraints.

  To keep her in place for the caning?

  Her pussy flooded at the thought.

  She was still a little wobbly-kneed when she walked across the hall and into his kitchen.

  His smile had her grinning back.

  “Here.” He held out a green olive on the end of a small fork. Knowing what he expected, she opened her mouth and let him feed it to her. “What do you think?” he asked. “I found them at Fortnum’s.”

  The saltiness of the olive spread over her tongue. She bit into stuffing in place of the hard stone. What was the familiar taste? Not the pimentos, almonds or anchovies she’d encountered before. This was tangy, sharp and like… “Cheese? Stilton?” Definitely a strong blue cheese.

  “Almost right,” he replied. “It’s gorgonzola. Sit down.” He indicated a leather-topped stool under the table. “Keep your legs open, remember?”

  “Of course I do!” Honestly, was she likely to forget?

  “Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten; it’s been nearly two weeks.”

  She smiled, not about to get into the ten days/nine days, ten/nine strokes of the cane conversation again. Not that he’d forget. “Mushroom omelet, you said?”

  “For you, my love, yes.” He turned back to the stove and got busy, leaving her to sip on a glass of sparkling water and watch as he cracked eggs, beat them in a bowl and heated butter over the gas.

  She fought back the urge to get up, wrap her arms around him and tell him she loved him utterly and completely. What if he didn’t feel the same? Suppose he loved playing sex games with her but didn’t love her. Damn! She was not about to ruin things. John Kent was the best thing to happen to her since Edward, and she was not about to wreck things.

  She took a sip from her glass and watched as John reached for two plates from the warming drawer, deftly folded over the omelet, divided it into two and slid each half onto a plate.

  It tasted every bit as good as she’d expected.

  Everything John did, he did well. Maybe he just avoided the things he couldn’t do well. If she had time she ought to investigate what they were. Or why bother when he was smiling at her over his glass?

  “Had enough?” he asked as she finished and drained her water glass.

  “To eat? Yes.”

  “Good. Stay put.”

  Took him all of five minutes to put their used plates into the dishwasher and then he dried his hands and said, “Follow me.”

  He went straight into the playroom beyond his bedroom. She’d rather expected that. What she hadn’t expected was the new article of furniture. Where did he buy these things? A kinky department of John Lewis? Or Selfridges?

  It was really quite simple—a stool with a wide, padded seat. But most people’s kitchen stools didn’t have dangling leather straps with clips and buckles.

  “Ready, my dear?” John asked, turning to face her as he lifted a cane off the table. A slender, very flexible cane, as he demonstrated with a couple of swishes in the air.

  At the sound, goose bumps skittered up and down her spine and her pussy clenched. “You can safe word out, you know.” he said. “What is your safe word?”

  “Ellen Forsythe.”

  “Want to use it? You may by all means. Safe word out and we’ll go to bed and cuddle.”

  They wouldn’t just cuddle. But somehow vanilla sex didn’t appeal right now. “I don’t want to use it.”

  “Brilliant!” He beckoned her. “Come here and put yourself over the stool.”

  Chapter Two

  It was three steps away and at every one her stomach clenched. He added to the effect by holding the cane at both ends and bending it as he watched her.

  She dropped her eyes and fixed her attention on the purple leather seat. It was bigger than most seats, to support her body no doubt. She stepped closer. The leather brushed her belly as she leaned over and settled herself across a very well-padded seat.

  “Comfy?” John asked, coming closer so the fabric of his trousers brushed her face. She nodded. “Better get you fixed then.” He reached over for one of the leather straps and in a matter of seconds had both clipped onto her belt. After a few adjustments, she was held firmly in place, her belly comfortably against the padded leather.

  “Hold on a minute,” he said, stroking her rump with his hand. “Quite lovely, but I do think you’ll need a little more restraint to keep you still.” As he spoke, he leaned over and, in one deft movement, fastened her right arm to the leg of the stool. Velcro was such a handy thing. Seconds later, both arms were secure and he stood back, as if to admire the prospect.

  “I think,” he said, “I’d better see to your legs too. It’s quite hard to keep completely still during a caning.”

  She already knew that! And why in the name of creation had she agreed? Hell, it was bound to hurt, but how much? Worse than his belt? That all depended on how hard he swung it. Her cunt was running. Why, oh why did this arouse her so? “Tie them down,” she said. “Please.”

  “You really want that?”

  “Yes.” Just the thought of total immobility sent a wild thrill right to her clit. She didn’t care how much it hurt, just wanted to be his utterly, to submit and to please him.

  “Okey-dokey.”

  She almost laughed at his totally atypical reply, but the touch of padded leather straps around her thighs and ankles brought her right back to the here and now.

  This was no laughing matter.

  His hand was back on her arse, but this time gently patting her, warming her up before he started in with the cane. She relaxed against the leather, let her limbs go loose and shut her eyes as her mind and body absorbed the slowly growing warmth in her skin.

  She let out several slow breaths as the tempo increased and the sensation built. She wasn’t hurting but was very much aware of a growing throb all over her rear.

  John stopped.

  She gasped at the sudden change and awareness of how much her arse now hurt.

  “How’s it feel?” he asked.

  “Not too bad.”

  “I’ll soon take care of that.” He moved, to pick up the cane she realized as he swished it through the air a couple of times. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sure you don’t want to safe word out?” The flat of his hand pressed into the small of her back as if to hold her still. Utterly unnecessary. Fingers and toes were about all she could move.

  “No, I don’t,” For a moment of perfect peace, she understood completely. She was here for him, and he was here to give her…

  The swish cut into her thoughts a second or so before the thin cane struck her flesh. It hurt, yes, but nowhere near as much as she expected. Neither did the next two.

  He was going gently, taking his time and pausing between strokes to let the sensation build. It wasn’t pain y
et. Not really. But was heading that way, and she’d had how many? Three? “Are you really giving me nine?”

  “Yes,” he replied, and brought it down again. That one stung. So did the next three or four. She wasn’t counting. Didn’t want to. Just relaxed—as best she could anyway—as her body jerked against the restraints. Still, it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. Of course it wasn’t half over yet, or was it?

  He’d paused. Probably to make her aware of how much she hurt. Especially when he ran his hand over her arse. “You mark up nicely, Ellen, my love. We must do this more often.”

  She let that go. No point in saying “never” or she’d “had enough” when he had her helpless and vulnerable. “Three more, my dear. Let’s make them count.”

  The cane swished down and cut into her so hard she cried out. The other two followed fast and had her screaming. It was over. He flung the cane across the room and was kissing her down the curve of her spine. “Incredible, beautiful, wonderful,” he muttered against her skin as he reached over and released her arms, legs and finally her waist and helped her stand.

  She needed the help. She was shaking and tears ran down her cheeks, He kissed them away. “All over now except the fucking.”

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  “I am.” His hand came between her legs and came away wet. “Don’t tell me you don’t want my cock up your cunt.”

  She leaned into him. “I’m not saying I don’t want to, I’m saying I don’t think I can.”

  He laughed and swept her up in his arms and carried her through the doorway into his bedroom. The sheets were already pulled back and he very gently put her down, rolling her onto her front. “We’ll do it doggy style. Don’t think the missionary position is for you tonight.”

  Had they ever actually done it missionary style? John was far too inventive. She smiled and eased up on her knees and let out a sigh of need. “Fuck me, John. Please! Fuck me hard.”

  “With pleasure, my love.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him and saw the promise in his eyes and the sexy smile that was halfway to a grin as he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his trousers, kicking off his shoes on the way and tossing aside socks. Seconds later, his shirt and underwear were on the floor and he was on the bed behind her, his hands on her waist, his thighs brushing hers.

  “Sure you’re not too tender here?” he asked. “You’ve got marks.”

  That wasn’t hard to believe. It was also irrelevant. “John, now is not a good time to make me wait. I’m in need!”

  “Yes,” he said, a trace of a chuckle in his voice, “I can see that. You certainly responded beautifully to the cane. I must remember that.”

  Ellen was on the verge of saying something about that, but with a shift of his hips, he was inside her and all conversation became utterly irrelevant. She threw back her head and let out a great cry, leaning back against him to bring his cock even deeper. Was it her imagination or was he even harder than usual? Why not? She had never been this ready.

  “I can’t hold it back!” she almost shouted as he began to stroke in and out with steady rhythm, coming in deep and hard, almost withdrawing before plunging back. He moved slowly, stroking every nerve ending and stimulating her clit. Her arousal built and peaked. Driven fast and strong by his cock, his presence and the roaring arousal from the caning.

  “John!” she shouted, “I’m so, so close…”

  “Then come, Ellen, come for me.”

  She didn’t need a second bidding. Her climax burst in a wild roar of pleasure, sending waves of satisfaction to every cell in her body.

  Lost in a great fog of satiation, she was only half aware she was screaming, shouting his name, yelling she loved him and he was the best fuck in the world. Her legs, breath and mind gave out and she sagged against him as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

  She cried out as he slipped from her. Missing his cock and his strength and force but too spent to do more than moan as he laid her down and slipped a pillow under her head.

  “You’re staying here tonight,” he said as he slipped in beside her and pulled the bedclothes over them.

  She was in no mental condition to argue. Even if she’d wanted to.

  John listened to her breathing as she lay in his arms. Had her profession of love been the wild enthusiasm of her climax? Or had it come from her heart? One more thing to worry about! But what the hell? He loved her. That was enough for now. He was too far-gone himself to lie awake and wonder if she loved him back.

  * * * * *

  Ellen woke first and leaned up on her elbow, watching John sleep. Sometimes this all seemed too good to be true and certainly too marvelous to last. But hell, it was gorgeous while it lasted and so was John. Trouble was, she wasn’t that comfortable enough with him to ask where they were going. If all he had in mind was a fling, she didn’t want to know right now. Not while she was totally poleaxed by his presence, his personality, his incredible body and his dominance. Best wait until she cooled off a bit. Maybe ending it then wouldn’t be so bad. Hell, perhaps they could stay play partners. Or was that what they were right now?

  Damn and double damn. She’d always been far better at the wild sex when one’s married sort than the “have fun with a Mr. Right Now” variety.

  She was analyzing far too much. Her body still thrummed from the sex, her arse still tingled from the cane and she could still feel, deep inside, where his cock had pounded her to climax. Best enjoy what she had.

  And right now, what she had was an urgent need to pee.

  She took care of that, paused to wash her face and studied herself in the metal-framed mirror. Not too bad-looking for her age.

  “What I see there is a contented and well-fucked woman.”

  She jumped at his voice but smiled back at him. “You look pretty satisfied yourself.”

  “I am indeed,” he replied, stepping through the doorway to wrap his arms around her and kiss her forehead. “How are you? Arse not too sore, I hope.”

  “It’s still tender but I’ll survive.”

  “To take more in the future, I hope. Turn around, let me have a look.” She obliged as he gently ran his hand over her rump and thighs, his touch so light it didn’t really hurt. “Nice,” he said, and kissed each arse cheek. “I like to see you marked, Ellen. Makes you look so sexy and so delightfully submissive. Have you tried sitting down yet?”

  “Only on the loo.”

  “Did you hurt?”

  “Not hurt, not really, but it is very tender.”

  “I should hope so. I wouldn’t want you to forget it too soon but I’ll give you a cushion to sit on in the car. We’ve a long drive ahead of us.”

  “Where to?”

  “That’s my surprise. You’ll like it, I promise.”

  * * * * *

  He wouldn’t give the slightest hint. Just told her to pack for the seaside and a couple of country walks, and to go easy on the knickers as he wanted her naked underneath and readily available. As if that were news to her! “I’ll be back in two hours,” he told her as he dropped her at her flat in Putney and wheeled her suitcase inside her front door. “Be ready for me.”

  She was.

  She’d repacked fast, tossing in a couple of swimsuits, shorts and a few tops and one dress—in case they actually went out somewhere that required clothes. For the drive down—wherever they were going—she put on a crinkle-cotton skirt that was lined and full enough to hide the fact she wasn’t wearing knickers, and a loose white peasant blouse. All very comfy and easy to slip off if the whim took him.

  Toothbrush and makeup she just pulled out of her old bag and shoved into the new one. She probably should have unpacked and sorted out, but once ready, she sat down, propped up her feet and closed her eyes.

  Might as well relax while she had the chance. Time spent with John tended to be tumultuous.

  And totally wonderful.

  Did he see things the same way? Hell, he had to be happy with
the sex and their play scenes. But…

  Dammit, no! She was not going all introspective and angst-ridden about their relationship. Life was too short. She’d learned that in spades watching Edward sicken and die. She’d found John, or rather with her niece Annie’s help, they’d found each other and Ellen was hell-bent and determined to take each day as it came and draining it to the dregs.

  But she did itch to know where exactly where they were going. The “seaside and country walks” left things rather wide open, but she’d always been rather partial to alfresco sex.

  * * * * *

  He arrived, almost to the minute, and tossed her bag in the boot before stroking her arse very thoroughly as he held the passenger door open.

  “Nothing underneath there. Good.” He kissed the back of her neck as she stooped to get in the car.

  As promised, he had a soft cushion on the seat. It helped.

  “Are we going far?”

  His chuckle cued her she should have worded that less ambiguously. “I’ll take you as far as you’ll let me.”

  “I meant, are we driving far?”

  He closed the door after fastening her seat belt and walked around to his side before replying. “We’re on our way to Cornwall,” he said, “but we’re stopping for lunch on the way.”

  “Oh?” They were, were they? “Where?”

  “With friends of mine. Alan and Jane Branis. They live in Ham. Old friends and they’re kinky.”

  “I see.” A lie. She didn’t or rather wasn’t sure what was planned, but Ham wasn’t far. Not long to find out. “Are we just eating there? Or do you have anything else in mind?”

  “What would you suggest?”

  It drove her bonkers when he answered her question with another. “I’d suggest getting to know them first.”

  “I’ve known Alan since he was in short trousers.”

  “I haven’t.” She paused to let that point sink in. “If you’re suggesting playing, I want to know them first.”

  Now he went quiet. She’d swear he only did it to play with her mind. “I imagine Jane feels the same. It’s just lunch. But…” There was often a “but” with John. “I will want you naked.”