Sunday Snog - The Novice FREE

Welcome to Sunday Snog - this week a FREE novel for you…

But first a bit of action…

I crossed my legs, my black leather, thigh-high boots creaking in the silence. “Victor, I’m so glad you graced me with your presence.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” His gaze slipped down my boots; thighs, knees, sinfully pointy tips of the toes. I wondered if he was remembering Carlos adoring them, albeit briefly, and hoping it would be his turn soon.

It would be.

“Shame you didn’t bother to come last night. It was one hell of a show,” I said.

He reached for my hand, brought my knuckles to his lips. They were soft, barely damp as he kissed me. “We made our own show afterwards.” His breath was hot on my skin and sent an annoying scatter of sensation up my arm.

I tugged away. “You should strip.”

“What.” He raised his eyebrows.

Lunging forward, I gripped his chin. “You want another slap?”

He swallowed, and his eyes narrowed slightly, small wrinkles forming at the edges. “Is that a trick question?”

A deep belly laugh gripped me. He was so fucking funny. “I suppose it is.” I slapped him, hard, across his left cheek. “That’s for forgetting to call me Mistress.”

He turned away, stared at the door as though composing himself, or maybe wondering whether to leave. Again he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the collar of his pristine white shirt. He breathed deep, turned back to me, his eyes still slit-like.

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

Good, I still had him. He needed to be able to take a bit of a slap, there was so much more to come.

“So what are you waiting for? Strip. It’s a swanky suit and everything, but I want you naked when you watch this.”

He stood and I glanced at my watch. The Harlequin was five minutes late—good, it was what I’d asked for. Didn’t want Victor distracted with undressing when The Harlequin started the show.

He did as I’d asked, and as he peeled away the layers, hanging them on a hook on the wall, I congratulated myself on how far we’d come. That first evening, in my bedroom, there was no way he would have tolerated a slap and then obeyed an order. But now, well, it was like having a puppy to play with.

I licked my lips, and my pussy heated as he stepped out of his boxers and kicked them to one side. He was hard, but not as deliciously hard as I knew he could get.

“Turn around, face the window,” I said.

“Yes, Mistress.”

The other side of the window was still covered by a dense black curtain but he stared at it anyway.

Damn, his back view was cute, and I couldn’t help giving my nipples a little tweak through my top. The nape of his neck was covered in hair, neat and recently brushed, I’d say. He had wide shoulders, not balled with muscle, just strong. The gutter of his spine was deep and lined with sinewy tendons. The small dimples, just above the rise of his buttocks, invited licks. His arse was lovely, pert and high, the skin a fraction lighter than the rest of him, as though he’d enjoyed some foreign sunshine over the last few months. My attention lingered on the cleft of his arse and then swept down his legs. His thighs I knew to be hairy at the front, but at the back, the covering was sparse. I liked the backs of his ankles, just above his heels; the tapered tendons there were defined and screamed strength. I wondered briefly if he was a runner, or maybe had been.

“Put your hands on the glass,” I ordered.

He obeyed.

I shifted to the edge of my seat, reached out and stroked his buttocks, first the left and then the right. Smoothed the skin in delicate sweeps. “I’m sorry if your arsehole has been sore today.” I ran my tongue over those dimples.

A slight shiver went through him. Was he cold, standing naked in this small room, or had my touch affected him the same way his had me, only a few minutes ago?

“My arsehole has been okay, thanks for asking.”

I slipped my finger down the warm crack, touched the hidden hole.

He tensed further. His buttocks clenched, gripping me. He wasn’t up for that kind of play today, but I’d known that.

“It was worth it, though,” I said. “In order for you to learn something new about yourself.”

“Yes.” He paused. “Mistress. It was worth it.”

“Good.” I stood, pressed my lips to his ear. “The show is about to start, and I want you to stay like this, staring into the room, standing, hands on the glass. I know you’re hard and you’ll definitely get harder, but no one but me can see you from the waist down, and to be honest, no one is really interested. So just stay still, enjoy The Harlequin, learn your lessons and I’ll be right here helping you along.”

He was silent.

“Victor.” I slapped his arse. Hard.

He jerked. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Stop being so damn awkward,” I said, brushing away the sting on his buttock. “Or I’ll go and get that big fucking plug I shoved up Carlos’ arse and you’ll have that in for the next hour. Might make your trip to Heaven a bit more hellish.”

“Sorry, Mistress. I’ll try harder.”

He’d spoken the subservient words, but something about his tone didn’t quite ring true. As though he was acting. Spouting them because he knew that was what I wanted to hear.

Well, I’d soon change that.

A slight whirr echoed into the room, and the curtains drew back.

The Harlequin stood in the middle of the stage, hands on hips, face covered by a gold Venetian mask with a plume of feathers on the right-hand side.

I ran my hand around Victor’s waist, down his obliques and checked the solidity of his cock. Oh, yes, nice and firm—the slap and the sight of The Harlequin’s large, bare breasts clearly worked for him. I’d suspected he was a bit of a tit man right from the word go, and now I was pretty sure I’d been right.

“Do you like her big tits?” I asked, touching my lips to the mound of his shoulder. He smelled of that woody shower gel again, but tasted of him: fresh and clean, like ocean surf on a hot summer’s day.

He hesitated and then, “Yes, Mistress.”

“Me too. Sometimes I frig myself off just thinking about The Harlequin’s tits. They’re so big and soft, the nipples so sensitive.” As I’d spoken I stroked his back, tapping my fingers down his spine. “Can you imagine what it would be like to put your dick between them, Victor? Use those big, warm pillows to wank with? Perhaps you’d like to watch me masturbating at the same time. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Mistress.” No hesitation that time.

“And then when you came, it would hit the mask, wouldn’t it? Your cum would fly into those pretty white feathers, making them sticky and matted. How would that make you feel?”

He didn’t answer. I slapped his arse, hard, each cheek.

He jolted forwards. My palm tingled.

“This is what’s going to happen,” I said sternly. “While you watch the show, you’re going to imagine yourself screwing The Harlequin. Not boring old missionary, something kinky, anal perhaps, if that’s your secret thing. And I’m going to make your arse a wonderful bright red.”

“You’re, you’re going to spank me…Mistress?”

The Novice is book #1 in the Sexy as Hell Trilogy. If you enjoy it check out the Box Set which contains the other books in the trilogy plus three bonus stories, all at a bargain price.

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