[Hello kittens! It's penultimate chapter time! ...and there's a familiar face to spot if you've read RAMTBB... Enjoy! EG x]
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Polite notice: this, is chapter *ten* of an eleven-chapter novella.
Personally? I think the chapters are infinitely more enjoyable read in order, but of course I'm not going to police how you enjoy your smut!
(It's also a prequel to the first story I shared -- it works as a standalone story too, but parts of this chapter will be more meaningful if you've already read Rules are Made to be Broken.)
Too busy to catch up? Here's where we're at:
Jessica, is coming to the end of her week of training to be a submissive call girl. Tonight, her teacher, Mr Swift, has taken her back to the BDSM club they visited in Chapter 6... she's already served one new Dominant Master, now it's time for number two...
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'What a delightful treat to walk in to.' The voice that comes from the door as it closes is rich and low, refined and undeniably commanding.
My insatiable pussy clenches at the sound of it. I steel myself inwardly as the owner of the voice crosses to stand in front of me. His shoes are impeccably shiny and his dark charcoal trousers look expensively tailored.
'Stand up, Amber.'
A strange jolt of electric pleasure rolls through me at hearing my new name and I stand up quickly, keeping my eyes cast down. The man in front of me reaches forward to tilt my chin up and make me look at him.
'A delight, indeed.' He muses, appraising me. 'My name, is Mr Smith. You may address me by that name, or as Sir, is that clear Amber?' he croons softly,
'Yes, Mr Smith.' I reply softly, very aware of the huskiness in my own voice. Mr Smith is quite alarmingly attractive in a cool, domineering sort of way.
He's easily over six foot tall, with dark brown eyes and elegantly styled silver-grey hair. His chiselled jaw is sprinkled with short, immaculately groomed stubble -- the sort that likely keeps an expensive barber well paid, as opposed to a tell-tale sign of a rushed morning with no time to shave.
He looks a little like George Clooney in those adverts where he's always sipping espresso. I find myself thinking he's going to be very easy to submit to and only feel very slightly shamed by the thought.
Mr Smith strides across the room towards the armchair, beckoning me with two fingers to follow. As he makes himself comfortable in the chair, I stand impassively, willing myself not to fidget.
'Strip for me, Amber.' He commands plainly.
That buzz of excitement at hearing my new name makes itself known again as I reach for the zip on my dress. I ease it down slowly and let the fabric fall to the floor. I hear Mr Smith murmur his approval and my confidence swells, along with my hard nipples.
'Now, come and put yourself across my lap.' He says casually, patting his right thigh. For half a second, I'm thrown, but my instincts kick in and I do as I'm told, as elegantly as I can manage, so that my naked midriff is pressed against his suited thighs and my ass is high in the air I rest my arms lightly on the arm of the chair and find I'm feeling a little disappointed that Oliver took my jewelled butt plug away with him.
'You have a delightful ass too, Amber.' Mr Smith's voice is full of carnal intent as he smooths his palm over my curves, making me moan softly, 'though I'd like to see it a little pinker.' Before I can really wonder what he means, his palm lands sharply on my left cheek and again on my right in quick succession. He repeats the process twice more without warning, leaving me gasping softly.
'Hmm. Going to take more than that.' He says more to himself than me, stroking my stinging cheeks lightly. 'Amber, crawl to the dresser and have a look in the bottom drawer, bring me whatever you find.' He says, spanking me once more, hard.
Slightly bewildered, I get off his lap and onto my hands and knees, grateful that the carpet is plush and seems to be clean. When I open the drawer, I have to swallow my own moan of desire.
I crawl back to Mr Smith and hand him the large black leather paddle.
'Good girl, Amber.' He smirks deviantly, 'As you were.' He adds, gesturing to his lap and I resume my position, trying not to look too eager.
The first blow lands squarely across both my cheeks at once and makes me cry out in a strangled yelp. Mr Smith's paddle is larger and heavier than Oliver's and it stings like a bitch. A second painful swat lands on my left cheek, followed by a third on my right, making my body jerk involuntarily. Mr Smith curls an arm underneath me, roughly cupping my breasts.
'Keep still, Amber.' Mr Smith's voice is cool and unaffected by my anguish. 'I am going to paddle your lovely behind thirty times. If you're a good girl, and keep still for me, when I'm finished, I will make you come. If you keep wriggling, I may lose count and need to start over. Do I make myself clear?' he asks calmly.
'Yes, Mr Smith. I manage to choke back breathlessly.
'Good girl. Then I'll begin.' He croons. Ridiculously, I find myself wondering then if he means thirty on each cheek or in total, but there's no time for discussion as Mr Smith starts paddling my bare behind mercilessly and my thoughts are drowned out by the sound of my own painful cries and the paddle smacking repeatedly against my ass.
Whatever the case, I lose count after eleven strokes anyway. That's when the searing pain starts to bloom into a deep, intimate pleasure like I've never known. It's as though my body has its own defence mechanism to block out the pain -- by scooping it up and converting it into pure deviant desire instead.
By the time Mr Smith tosses his paddle to one side, my cries have become animalistic moans of pleasure and my pussy is creaming shamelessly, desperate for attention.
'You took that very well, Amber,' he murmurs, stroking my burning cheeks tenderly, 'and your ass responds with the most charming shade of pink.' He goes on. I can only mewl softly in reply. 'Would you like to come for me now?' that gets my attention though.
'Oh, yes please, Sir.' I purr, feeling more and more comfortable across this man's lap. Keeping me in position, Mr Smith curls two long fingers into my dripping pussy and starts circling them slowly, making me moan wantonly with delight.
'More?' he taunts softly and I nod against my arms, draped over the arm of the chair,
'Yes please, Sir.' I smile, lost in his exquisite fingering. He adds a third finger easily and starts working them in and out of me firmly, until I'm panting breathlessly.
'Come for me, Amber.' He says plainly, effortlessly sliding his thumb up my ass too, and I do. I come undone around his hand, crying out in delight, letting wave after wave of release flow through me while he keeps fingering me deeply throughout.
When my breathing starts returning to normal, I notice him briefly glance at his watch.
'Just enough time.' He says, smiling. 'Amber, get on your knees.' He orders and I compliantly drop to the floor in front of him. He beckons me closer so that I'm kneeling between his suited thighs and says, 'Open wide, Amber.', quickly unbuttoning his fly and pulling my mouth down on his hard dick.
His fingers tangle in my hair as he forces me up and down his cock roughly, clearly enjoying the sight of me spluttering and gagging around his length. He pulls me down until my lips are pressed against his pubic hair and the head of his cock is wedged in my throat, making it hard to breathe. Just as I'm about to try pulling away, he releases me just slightly and starts to spurt his thick, creamy spunk down my throat. The way he's handling me is rough and degrading, and frankly, hot as hell. I know I shouldn't like it, but I do.
'Good girl.' He growls as he removes his softening length from my mouth and brushes a drop of his cream from my bottom lip. I sit back on my heels, naked and breathless, trying to get my breathing back under control.
'Thank you, Mr Smith.' I reply demurely.
After he's gone, I lay back down on the bed, naked again, but on my front this time, to spare my burning ass. When Oliver comes in to join me, he strokes my abused cheeks lightly.
'I assume Mr Smith introduced you to his paddle?' he asks and I nod,
'And then some.' I reply, 'But I didn't safe word.' I add, pleased with myself.
'No, you didn't.' Oliver smiles back at me, then stands and crosses to the dresser. He returns with a small pot of what looks like body butter. 'This will help with the sting.' He explains as he starts smoothing it over my cheeks. His touch is featherlight and it feels heavenly.
'So,' he starts, rubbing the last of the lotion in gently, 'about your last decision, Jessica.'
'I want to do it.' I reply affirmatively before I can talk myself out of it.
'You're sure?' Oliver asks, watching me closely. I nod,
'Absolutely. It's like you said, this is an opportunity for me to fund my big dreams and choose my own destiny -- I want to take as much as I can from it, and that means going all in.' I tell him confidently and he looks back at me with a half-smile and admiration in his eyes. 'Although, if you could avoid putting my ass through anything too painful while we're up there, I'd really appreciate it.' I say with a small laugh and he nods,
