Why hadn’t she put her little purse back in her handbag? Hayley was so angry with herself, so angry with everything, she wanted to scream. He’d planned the perfect weekend, she was so looking forward to it, and she was screwing it up. She had taken her little clutch out of her handbag to pay for the lunch delivery, and why had she not put it back? To make matters so much worse, she hadn’t realized it until she’d gotten all the way to London Bridge and was standing in line for the train ticket. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She never said that word out loud (okay, very rarely). It didn’t get any better—on the way back to the office, there was a delay on the Tube, and she’d had to sit for twenty five minutes. She was on the verge of tears. And she wanted to kick someone in the shin.
Finally back at the train station, she walked up the steps after getting off the subway, and stepped back in line at the exact spot she’d been over two hours earlier. She wouldn’t get to Brighton until 10:30 or later.
Her phone rang. Without looking at it, she knew it was him. She still had twenty minutes until the train departed, so she stepped out of line and moved towards the wall, hoping it would be quieter. Please, please, please don’t be mad. She’d never really seen him mad, well other than when he’d received the HMRC letter (which should have been her favorite letter ever, but part of her was still annoyed and embarrassed she’d made a mistake). She hated to disappoint him. As she answered the phone, she thought, I would go another two weeks without, just so he’s not mad. Anything so he’s not mad.
Her stomach a slick mess, she said, “Hi, Sir,” into the phone.
“Hi buttercup. Are you doing okay? I was worried.”
She’d texted him what had happened, but her cell coverage had been spotty during the Tube rides. He didn’t sound angry at all, just concerned. The tension drained from her body. She felt like crying with relief. “I’m…. I…. I feel so stupid. I’m so sorry.” A tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away angrily.
“Hey, it’s okay. These things happen. You’ll be here soon enough.”
“I know. I was just—just wanted to see you. I know you had reservations for tonight.” It was beginning to worry her, how much she missed him in between his visits. How much she longed for him, and it wasn’t simply sexual anymore.
“Me too, me too. Okay, take a deep breath. Relax and breath. When does the next train leave?”
“In fifteen minutes.”
“Okay. Once you’re on the train, I’ll give you about 30 minutes to relax. Just take deep breaths, we’re going to have a great weekend, no matter what.” That lightened her heart, made her smile. “Then I’ll send you some instructions. You packed everything you were supposed to?”
“Yes, Sir, I did.”
“Good girl.” That really made her heart feel better. “And you still haven’t come? When was the last time? Doesn’t seem like that long ago.”
“You’re terrible.” He laughed. She said, “It was a week ago Sunday, at 2:08 PM, right before you went to the airport.”
“Oh yes, that was fun.” He had made her play with herself, including a few edges, before he finally allowed her to come on her fingers as he watched. Then he’d fucked her.
“As I said, you’re mean.” It had been fun. Being reminded of it woke up her pussy and anymore all it took was the sound of his voice to make her wet.
“Okay, don’t miss another train. Be good. I’ll see you soon, love.”
“Yes, Sir, I will be. Cheers.”
###
The train was nearly empty, the first good thing that happened all day, probably because everyone else had been on the earlier one. She found a window seat with a wall at her back, no one in front of her for three rows, and she hoped it stayed that way. She put her overnight bag on the seat next to her (it was filled mostly with toys, since he’d said, You won’t be needing anything to wear). She did try to breathe, as he’d told her to, but now she was keyed up wondering what games he was going to play with her. Since New York, every train ride and every Tube ride reminded her of the subway ride, and she’d get wet thinking about it. It seemed like she was forever wet these days, permanently turned on. It was driving her crazy, but she didn’t want it to ever stop. God, she still couldn’t believe she’d come in public like that, wondered what that woman had seen, what she’d thought.
Waiting for the first text took forever…
Then her phone buzzed. She jumped a little, then read it. Get the vibrating plug out of your bag. Go to the restroom. Put the plug in that happily owned ass (yes, you may use your wet pussy to wet your fingers and then lube up the plug and your owned bottom). Then edge yourself up to a 9.3 and return to your seat.
She responded, Yes, Sir.
Thank God she’d put a small towel in the bag. She wrapped the plug in the towel, and nervously stood and walked to the loo. She made damn sure she locked the door, then lowered her panties to her ankles and raised her skirt above the waist. Had he said the plug first or edge first? She had to think about it, then remembered it was the plug. She slid two fingers deep into her pussy, which felt so wrong and so good. She wished he was watching her do this, as he had before. She coated the plug in her juices, then did another dip and coated it again. Now for the tougher part. She slid one finger inside her pussy, slid it in and out (which already had her at an 8), then put her finger tip against her asshole. She’d done it so much for him, had his cock there several times, but the wickedness of it still turned her on. She pushed the finger in. It felt good and tight, which made it even more wicked. She did it again, using a different finger, and then a third time. The third time was really just because she liked it. She would need to confess that to him, later. Perhaps while he was spanking her. God, she was driving herself crazy. She put the tip of the plug against her asshole, took a deep breath, let it out, and then pushed it in. It always felt like it would never, ever go inside her, and then it did. It was slightly uncomfortable, and part of her wished it was bigger, more uncomfortable. Should she tell him that, too?
After pulling up her panties and lowering her skirt, she washed her hands and made sure she looked okay in the mirror. She put her hand on the door knob before she remembered that she needed to edge. Where was her mind today? She lifted her skirt, put her fingers inside her panties, and found her horny, frustrated clit. It had been more than 24 hours since she’d touched it. Wednesday had been a rub-all-day day, as she called them. Her orders had been for 15 edges, which meant her clit had been turned on all day. By the end, her clit was actually sore, and the last two weren’t easy (and yes, she’d liked that, liked telling him her clit was sore). Then yesterday had been the worst, a no-touching day, and he’d surprised her (and not in a good way) by continuing that today, until now. God it felt good. She clenched her ass, to feel the plug, to remember she was owned, that she wasn’t in charge of her pussy or her ass. That she had no choice but to be a slut for him. She thought of New York, of the balcony, of him on top of her.
With a big gasp, she pulled her hand away. Her whole body shivered, on the brink. She’d almost come, far closer than a 9.3. A 9.95, maybe. She had no idea what he would do if she did without permission, couldn’t imagine how upset he’d be. Part of her wanted to find out, just the slightest touch would do it. Instead, she counted to thirty, thought of her mother—that helped—and pulled up her panties. She licked her fingers clean, one of her rules, savoring how wet she was, how naughty it was. When she could walk without shaking, she washed her hands again and went back to her seat.
Five minutes later, the next message came. Enjoy that? How are your pussy and ass doing?
She responded: They miss you, Sir. They need you. Mostly your cock.
His text: LOL (literally). Good girl. That made her smile.
Her phone buzzed with another message: Put the remote control in your purse. Turn it up to a 2. Leave it there for three minutes. Use your phone as a timer. Then turn it off. Enjoy, My slut.
Oh My God. With nervous hands, she found the remote in the side pocket of her overnight bag. She put it in her handbag, then found the timer app on her phone. Three minutes seemed like a very long time, suddenly. Her thumb pushed the second button on the remote, then she started the timer. The response was instant, the vibe sending its energy through her pussy to her clit, and up her spine. She could feel her nipples hard hard against her blouse. Oh fuck. The vibe was horrible in that it didn’t make her come, but it got her so close, and in such an odd, wicked way. He had explained to her that in his mind, owning and taking her ass was the true symbol of owning her. It certainly felt that way. She bit her lip, looked around the car. A woman at the front, in the seats facing the other way, was looking at her, but then looked away. She looked at her phone, should be almost over by now. 2:06???? Christ.
It was the longest three minutes of her life. She texted: Done Sir.
His text: :) Good girl. Having fun?
She figured that was a rhetorical question.
The train ride went on and on like that. #4 for 30 seconds. #2 for four minutes. Sometimes she’d lose service, and she’d get two messages in a row, and have to do them back to back. Part of her really liked that.
Finally the next stop was Brighton. He texted: Put it on #1. Leave it there. See you in a minute.
She wanted to call him a royal bastard. Instead she typed Yes, Sir and added a big smiley face. Now she was really nervous to see him again. Excited. And maybe he would let her come. He kept threatening to tease her through a weekend, but hadn’t yet…
###
He was waiting for her on the platform, wearing jeans and a long, winter coat. He was by no means pretty, but she thought him quite handsome, and adored his rough, worn look, his strong chin, the bit of gray in his hair. Her whole heart filled up when she saw him. God, his smile when he saw her—she loved that. He wrapped his big arms around her, held her tight, gave her a kiss on the cheek, then a good kiss.
“You made it,” he said.
“Finally.” She was still upset, should have been her like three hours ago, but also couldn’t have imagined that train ride on a full train. She kissed him again, as his hand slid inside her coat. He did that so well. He cupped her cheek, and one finger found the end of the vibe.
“Enjoying that, are you?”
“You’re mean,” was all she could say.
Holding hands, he led her out of the station. It was colder out than she expected, especially in the skirt. He wrapped his coat around her, told her it wasn’t far, and it wasn’t. He led her to a tall, new-looking building near the beach—he’d rented an apartment for the weekend. The lobby was nice and modern, and she could feel herself start to relax, starting to unwind, in that comfort zone that she felt around him.
On the elevator, he stuck out his hand, wanting something. She had no idea what.
“The remote.”
She found it in her handbag, then handed to him. It felt like she was giving herself to him all over again. He took it, looked her straight in the eyes, and pushed #4. It was a good thing that he pulled her close with one arm, because otherwise she would have gone to her knees. She rubbed against his thigh, reminding her in a big way of another ride. She so needed to come. The elevator door dinged, and as it opened, he turned the vibe off. Her ass missed it.
He led her to their door, then opened it. He let her in first. It was big. Decorated in a modern but still warm style, perhaps a bit too modern for her. On the far side was a wall of glass, and a big balcony beyond that. She walked to it, took in the view—it was very pretty, even at night, the marina below with its lights, and she could see the white of the surf breaking against the shore. The thought of all that cold water made her shiver. She explored the bathroom—huge, with a very nice tub, she hoped they’d get to spend some time in that—and the two bedrooms. She found him in the living room, sitting in a leather chair. She went to him, wanted to sit in his lap, but instead kneeled in front of him.
He looked at her for a long time, taking her in. His complete attention made her uncomfortable. Finally, he said, “Who owns you?”
“You do, Sir.”
“Are you happily owned?”
“Very much. Very happy.”
That made him smile. “Okay, the rules for this weekend. You will be completely naked whenever you are in the apartment.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Whenever we leave, if we leave, you will dress by the door.” He pointed to a spot next to the door. “And when we come back, you will immediately undress there.”
“Yes, sir.” Her clit was back, horny and demanding.
“Go to the spot. Get naked, my naughty slut. Now.”
Why did being bossed around, being ordered to undress, turn her on so much? She walked to the door, turned and faced him. She slipped out of her blouse, folded it up and sat it on the floor next to the door. Her skirt followed, then, quickly, her panties. She stood before him, naked and a little embarrassed—it always took her a while to get used to being around him, and being naked.
“Stick a finger in, see if you're wet.”
Oh Christ. She did, as he watched.
“And?” he asked.
“Very wet, Sir. Your wet slut.”
Another good smile. “Clean it off.”
She licked her finger clean, imagined it was his finger, his cock. She was already desperate, desperate to come, desperate to please him.
“Your collar is on the night stand, in the big bedroom. Get it for me.”
She took two steps. He made a little rumble in his throat. “Oh, sorry, Sir.” She went down to her hands and knees, crawled into the bedroom, knowing his eyes were watching the whole way. Halfway there, the vibe surged to 3. She gasped, had to take two big breaths, before she could move again. She’d forgotten about it, impossibly. When she was in the bedroom, he turned it back down to a 1.
Carrying her collar gently between her teeth, the plug still singing to her clit, she crawled back to him. At his feet, she placed the collar in his open hand, then put her nose to the wood floor, her bottom high, and held her hair out of the way. Was there anything more submissive that that? Well, spreading her cheeks and begging for his cock definitely had been, come to think of it.
“Do you want to be my little sub for the weekend? My slut? My toy?”
“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir. I don’t want anything else.”
“I’m going to be strict and demanding, as always. I have some wicked things planned.”
“Yes, Sir. I hope I please you.”
“Good girl.” His hand caressed her neck, then she felt the collar slide around it. He clicked the two latches closed, then she felt him slide the tiny padlock in place. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, please, Sir.”
“Use your hand to close the lock. Give yourself to me.”
He had never done that before. Awkwardly, she reached up and found the lock. Her fingers shook as she snapped it closed.
“Mmm, good girl.” He was happy. She was happy. “Stand up and turn around.” She did, showing her ass to him. “Bend over. Spread your cheeks.” She cupped her cheeks and spread them wide, her face blushing.
His fingertip found the end of the plug, pushed it around. “You’re not horny, are you?”
She could only moan.
He put two fingertips against the opening of the pussy he owned, the pussy she’d given to him. “Push back.” She did, feeling the fingers slide into her. “All the way. That’s it. Good girl. Damn, you’re wetter than usual. Which is saying something.”
“The train ride…that was a lot of teasing…Sir.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Her very wet fingers departed her pussy, and found her clit. “Rub yourself on my fingers.” Her cheeks still spread—because she hadn’t been told to stop doing that—she moved her hips back and forth, then a little sideways, getting his fingers to just the right spot. “What a naughty slut you are. I’m still wondering if I should let you come this weekend. There’s no subway here. Maybe the balcony. But I’m sure you could go another two weeks for me. Another few train rides with the vibe in your ass, another hundred or so edges.”
“9.2 Sir. Please. Please may I come?”
“No.” He said no, but his fingertips were still there. She kept humping them, faster, desperate. “9.6. Pleeeasssss…”
As she knew they would, the fingers disappeared. She kept humping the air, so so close. She moaned again. God, why did she like being denied so much?
“Turn around.” It took her a moment to recover, then she slowly turned around. His fingertips were still sticking out, level with her waist. She moved to her knees, her hands still on her cheeks, and sucked both fingers all the way into her mouth. “Good girl.”
When she’d satisfied him, he kissed her. “It’s gotten late. I think it’s time for bed. We’ll have a lot of fun tomorrow. Or at least I will.” He had the wicked grin on his face, the one that made her nervous and excited.
