Author's note: this is a work of pure imagination.
*****
It was wild and angry, as only the North Sea can be. Short choppy waves lashed the rocks below, and a rake of whooper swans struggled to remain in formation against the swirling undertow. He sat back in the train as clifftop meadows replaced the vivid drama of the sea, and tried to focus on the story he was writing on his laptop. But the attempt was forlorn. He could concentrate on nothing. As the train clattered through Berwick and onto the Royal Border Bridge, he barely noticed the view. His hand was trembling with excitement as he sipped his Grouse.
He knew that none of this was sensible. He'd first encountered her when she posted a story on Lit. A very finely- written BDSM piece. He'd mailed her to tell her of his appreciation. As a writer he knew how important that could be, and he usually did it when he found something he thought good. She had responded warmly, and an online correspondence ensued.
As the dialogue developed, as they became closer, learned each other, it became clear that she was his. Now he was going to meet her. The last time he'd been with a woman so young, he'd been in his thirties. A long time ago. And now this young woman wanted him, wanted to fuck, wanted him to teach her, wanted him to play with her. He poured another measure of Grouse, very carefully. He didn't need too much alcohol for the weekend ahead of them.
He knew that for both of them this was just about sex. His lover had, tremblingly, given him license to fuck this woman, knowing that it was no threat to their relationship. Well, for better or worse, he was going to do just that. And much more. His hand quivered as he remembered what the young woman had told him of her voyage into BDSM, of her growing excitement as she learned her need for abuse. He was going to give it to her. Everything.
He wondered what she was thinking as the train swept through Alnmouth and the North Sea was again briefly visible. Checked his watch and knew it was time to take the blue pill. It really didn't matter what she was thinking, he realised. What was going to happen wasn't about thought. It was about two bodies and minds interacting.
The rain was sheeting down by the time he walked under the neoclassical portico of Newcastle Central station and moved to the taxi-rank. Fifteen minutes later he was at the door of a brick terraced house in Heaton. It opened at his touch on the bell. She was standing behind the door, dressed as he had instructed her. In nothing.
He stroked her face, gazing in her eyes. Fuck she was gorgeous. Short and a bit plump, long dark hair, blue eyes, a small pouty mouth. Her full firm breasts were bruised, the nipples red and angry. His hand moved to touch her there and she trembled.
- So, Amelia, how lovely to see you at last.
He stroked her hair, then his hands moved back to her breasts. She flinched.
- Well, girl, we only have a day. Let's get started.
In the bedroom he allowed her to unclothe him, and watched as she hung his suit and shirt in her wardrobe, her arse wobbling. Fuck, he was going to take her there, knowing she'd never had a cock in her anus. He was dripping when she turned to face him, eyes down, and she started to kneel.
- No Amelia. I don't want your mouth, I told you that. Perhaps you need punished for forgetting?
She blushed and rose, eyes still averted from his.
- Yes ... sir.
- I'll spare your tits, they look as though someone's given them enough for now. Over the back of the chair. Legs apart.
She folded herself over the chairback, revealing a pouty freshly-shaven cunt. She'd told him she'd never shaved it before and whilst he really didn't care whether she was naked there, he had required her to shave. He noted the scrapes and nicks from her inexpertise with the razor. But though her breasts had been abused, there was no sign that her genitals were. He took the heavy belt from his bag and slashed her arse four times. She gasped at each stroke but said nothing.
- Now, my little whore, stand and face me.
She looked more delectable once he'd slid the eyemask onto her. Even better with the scarf round her mouth. She'd said she didn't want to have a safeword. Well, she would discover the wisdom of that silly decision, but he'd be very careful not to push her too far. He always was. He led her to the bed and thrust her back on it, her solid bruised tits quivering as he moved her to his satisfaction. He bent to take the nipples in his mouth, felt them grow and harden, one after the other, aware of the extent of her bruising as he did so. She shuddered at his mouth there, pushed his head away. He stood back, smiling:
- Too sore there slut? She nodded her head. - Well, you aren't going to stop me doing what I want.
She lay supine as he picked two lengths of rope from his bag and secured her wrists to the bed. Then pushed pillows under her arse before fastening her ankles, legs splayed.
- This is for me, slut. For you too. I couldn't be here if you didn't really want it, but it's for me and you know it. Now, if I want to bite your tits I will. It's your problem that you let someone else beat them before I arrived. You knew I was coming; knew you had to be ready for me.
She whimpered through the scarf as his teeth closed on her abused nipple. He had seldom been so excited before with a woman. He felt the depth of her depraved need, anticipated the rewards their unions would bring them both. His fingers slid over her round tummy, fluttered over her mons. Her sex was engorged and when his fingers went between her lips he was electrified at her wetness. Fuck, and this time was the first time he'd really touched her sexually... such a delicious toy.
She gasped as his teeth sank into her firm breasts, whilst his fingers played her cunt. Then he moved off her, no longer touching. She squirmed on the bed and moaned.
- I told you to shave. Call that a proper shave?
His fingers ran over the stubble and wisps of hair left by her inexpert handling of the razor, and she shivered.
- You really haven't done too well so far, have you Amelia? Now, this isn't going to shave you, but it will remind you to obey me properly in future.
He lifted the flogger from his bag and drew it down her from face to toes, allowing just the ends of the leather tendrils to tickle her. Then raised it and brought it down on her exposed cunt several times, harder with every stroke. He had to find her limits. He smiled as Amelia screamed on the last couple of lashes, and dropped the flogger. His cock was dripping.
- Now I need to taste you, slut.
He knelt between her legs, started licking up the tops of her thighs. Wetly into the sweaty creases between thigh and trunk, avoiding her gaping cunt. Then back down to her dimpled knees. Up again, but on the insides of her thighs this time. He paused as his mouth approached her wetness, scent filling his nostrils. Bit hard into the softness, once on each thigh. She moaned and tried to twist away from the pain, so he bit again, tasted blood this time. His tongue lapped up the soft skin and he allowed it to flicker quickly up her crease. The dew of her excitement pearled between her inflamed lips, but he refused to allow himself to taste her arousal properly. Yet. His head rose and he gazed at her face. She was panting through the scarf.
- You want my mouth there, don't you Amelia? You want me to lick and suck your greedy cunt till you explode?
