STORY EXCERPT

“Will you come in for a cup of tea, Master Angus?”

“No,” he said, “rain is forecast for this afternoon, so we must get on while it’s fine.”

So saying, he took her keys and, when she had collected her bag and waterproof, he locked the door and helped her into the car. He drove in silence in the city until they began to take country roads.

“I want to take this time together outside the club to clear up a number of things,” he said, and her heart sank. This was it. He had seen she was getting too close to him, and he was going to remind her that he would have finished with her soon. She sat frozen, her hands clasped on her lap, biting her lips and trying not to cry or let him know she was upset. She looked out of the window but saw nothing through the tears that clouded her eyes.

Why had she thought there might be more? She knew he did not take subs. She had been warned, and still she had let herself hope and feel, and now she had no one to blame but herself. It was good that he was going to tell her while they were alone so she would not disgrace herself or him in the club, and it was thoughtful of him not to tell her in her own home, where the memory would always haunt her. She sank her nails into her palms trying to regain control of herself. She would not beg!

“Do not worry, mo run,” he said. He could sense all was not right with her, but he had to keep his eyes on the road.

Hell, he thought. “What now?”

Ten minutes later, they entered a pretty village. A stream ran through the middle of it and bisected the village green. Wooden picnic tables with attached benches were scattered over the grass, and a paved area was set aside for parking. The air was clean and pure, and even though it was fairly cold the sun shone for the present. It was early in the year for a picnic, and the daffodils the area was famed for were no longer in bloom so there were not many people visiting the area. Consequently, the car park was almost empty and none of the tables were in use. A few weeks ago, when the daffodils were all in full bloom, the parking area would have been full to overflowing with people eager to see the spring flowers.

He helped her out of the car, but she kept her head down and did not look about her. He chose a table close to the car and arranged rugs on the benches as she waited passively for the axe to fall.

He put the large wicker basket on top of the bench and pulled out a red-and-white checked tablecloth, arranging a bottle and two glasses on it.

“Sparkling apple juice. I hope you like it.” He frowned when she did not look up or reply. “Sit down, Jane. I have some things to say, and I want you to listen then I will answer your questions. Ten years ago I lost my wife to cancer. She was my slave. I had never wanted that sort of D/s relationship but anything less made her so unhappy I went along with it. It was very hard work for me and a strain to be all she wanted me to be. I have a business to run and found it difficult to make every decision for her, what she wore, what she ate and when, et cetera. When she wanted to continue all through her illness and tried to force me to spank her and more, I could not bring myself to do that to someone as ill as she was.

“Consequently, when she died, we were not on the best of terms to put it mildly. I was devastated and felt guilty. I felt I had let her down.”

Jane’s hand stole across the table. She laid it over his hands, which were so tightly clasped together the knuckles showed white.

“I swore never to be in that position again. Until now I have never taken a sub to train or done more than play a scene at the club from time to time. Now I find I want more than that. You asked what a Dom wants from a sub and no doubt got the stock answer. I am going to tell you what I want from a sub. I will not have a slave. I do expect complete submission in the bedroom and in the club and also when we are alone. I am a dominant male and will want to have a say in all areas of my sub’s life, but I will not choose her friends or her clothes. But I will expect her to take my views into account. Many things can be discussed and agreement reached, but if I give an order I will have instant obedience or there will be consequences. Now ask your questions.”

ADULT EXCERPT

He took her hand and led her to a chair and made her sit on his lap. Once again, he bent her over his arm and proceeded to kiss her until her senses reeled. He did not have to ask. Her mouth opened for him, and he took possession. He did not allow her to take any control this time. He nibbled her bottom lip, and from there down her neck and along her shoulder. She was hot and wet and ready. Her nipples pebbled under the caress of his strong fingers.

“Next time we will try clamping these,” he said. He saw her eyes flare as she realized he had said “next time.” He felt the difference in her. She sat straighter, and a small smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

What the fuck was he doing? Raising expectations he did not intend to fulfill…or did he? Angus thought.

He realized he would see her again because he wanted to see her again and that was something that rocked him. For years he had had no sub. He had never quite found what he needed. Prometheus was a devious bastard and had sent a lot of subs his way to tempt him and thought he had sent him this one. He knew Angus was bored by the young subs. Could this grandmother be the one? He did not know if he even wanted to start all the long training of such a new sub. What to do? Maybe just carry on and see where it all led.

He forced his mind away from that thought and concentrated on the moment. Leave the rest for now and enjoy what he had. He took his hand from her breasts and cupped her mound…Hm, trimmed but not bare, something else to be corrected.

“Open your legs.”

She complied and opened her legs a few inches, so he slapped her mound. She got the message and opened wider. He slid one long finger into her slit. How wet she was. He had lube waiting but saw he would not be needing that. So much cream was not common surely in one of her age.

“You are so wet. Are you always so wet?”

“Yes, Master.”

His fingers circled her swollen clit, slick with her juices. He felt around for the bundle of nerves under her hood and pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. She squeaked and jumped, and he did it again. He began to rub her clit with his finger, and she writhed. He slapped her thigh.

“Be still.”

* * * *

Jane tried, she really tried to be still, but it was fucking difficult with his fingers exploring her, and she knew if she could just get him to concentrate on her clit she would come. It seemed he had other ideas. Slowly, he circled her clit, never touching just where and how she needed. She was shaking with need by the time he pushed one long, strong finger inside her. She gasped and whined as he withdrew it, to bring it to his mouth and suck it clean. The expression on her face must have given her away because he said, “I told you I wanted to taste you. You are so sweet and spicy. I want more…Now!”

He picked her up and put her on the bed.

“Lie back on the pillows and keep those thighs open.”

He began to strip. She was going to find out! His shirt and jerkin were neatly folded and placed on a chair. The buckles of his kilt…but no. He smiled at her and took off his shoes and his white wool socks oh so slowly. He was teasing her, doing a striptease, and she was drooling. He was lean and muscular, though not very hairy on his body, what she could see of it. She wondered if it was natural or waxed. His arms and legs were hairy. All thoughts left her head as his hand went to the buckles of his kilt. He unfastened the buckles, turning away to fold the heavy kilt carefully and laid it over the back of the chair. His backside was poetry in motion, compact and bijou. As he bent to pick up a stray sock that had fallen on the floor, his balls poked through his legs. Had he done that on purpose? She ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips and waited, containing her soul in patience, for him to turn around. Eventually he did, but it seemed to take him forever. His cock was long and thick and hard. How was that monster going to fit inside her. It had been so long. There were subtle signs of aging on his body, but in spite of them he was so hot. It was so unfair. She had more wrinkles and saggy bits than he had.

He crawled on all fours on the bed and settled himself between her legs then he pushed two fingers inside her.

“God, but you are wet!” He smiled then he pulled out and circled her clit again. She writhed and moaned.

“Be still, all in good time.”

He pushed his fingers back inside her and proceeded to fuck her with them. As he withdrew each time, he curled them and stroked her G-spot. She moaned in appreciation. He took his fingers out and sucked them, smacking his lips in appreciation to her stunned disbelief. Then he started to lick her inner thighs, up nearly to her clit then over to the other thigh and licked that one almost to her clit. He was going to drive her mad. She fought to keep still but was losing the battle when he dropped to his elbows, opened her with both hands, and oh, God, he was going to…he couldn’t be. But he could and he was.

“I can smell your juices. I want to taste them again. Be still,” he growled.

He licked up and around her clit and down the other side. She moaned and writhed and just gave up trying to keep still. If there were to be consequences, she’d deal with them later. He lapped at her juices and penetrated her with his tongue, stabbing in and out of her pussy and sending her to the edge but it was never quite enough. How did he know just when to stop? How long could he keep it up?