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“What’s going on is we’re having sex, okay? Hot, sweaty, kinky sex. And your call came right in the middle of it. Stop calling me. I’ll phone you when I get home, and we can talk then.”
Carrie was silent for so long, Gayle was afraid they’d lost the connection, then Carrie said softly, “I’m sorry. I was worried about you. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Oh, Carrie, I’m the one who’s sorry. You’re the best friend ever, and I know I asked you to call. But your timing stinks! I’m halfway out of my head with what Master Rikard is doing to me. I can’t talk now.”
Rikard bit lightly on her neck, making her whimper, and murmured, “Only halfway?”
“But you are okay, right?” Carrie pressed.
“Never better in my life.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for your call tonight. But if I don’t hear from you by nine, I’m still calling the cops.”
“Great. Wonderful. Call by nine. Got it. Bye.”
She shut the phone and tossed it onto the table.
“Open for me,” Rikard whispered. “Open as wide as you can go.”
His hand spread her opening the last fraction of an inch, then he slid fully inside her, up to his wrist. Her muscles clenched and gripped his hand, as she shivered and moaned.
Unlike the first time, when he’d reached deep inside her, this time, he immediately started to pull his hand out. The wide part of his hand pressed her vaginal muscle, stretching her fully open again, before he pushed his fist deep inside her once more.
She gasped, bucking against his hand.
“Shh,” he said softly. “Let me do all the moving.”
“Yes, Master.” Gayle spread her legs wide, tipped her hips, and leaned back against his other arm. She was his to control.
His fist pumped slowly in and out, eliciting soft groans of pleasure with each stroke. Then he began speaking, softly, gently, in time with his hand movements.
“You’re so hot. So wet. It’s like putting my hand into a steam bath. A paraffin dip. Warm and wet and closing tight around me. So tight. Tighter.”
She clenched her inner muscles, wrapping them around his fist. He filled her completely, pressing back against her with his sheer size. His knuckles rubbed the wall of her vagina as he slid back and forth. She gasped, her hand once more thrusting into his hair and clenching tightly.
“Please, Master. Please.”
“What do you want, Gayle? You were very good, and followed my orders about the phone. You deserve a reward.”
“Please. Do me faster.”
His fist stroked steadily in and out, building speed, while his hand on her hip kept her where he wanted her to be. Her gasps and groans became short, sharp cries at the apex of each stroke.
“Sing for me, Gayle. Sing.”
Her next cry was a warbled note.
“That’s it. Sing.”
His fist pumped harder, faster, driving her cries of passion higher and higher up the scale. With a series of high notes worthy of Mozart’s “Queen of the Night”, Gayle gave a final shriek and came in a shuddering rush. Rikard’s hand spurted clear of her body.
His mouth closed over hers, his lips tender and gentle as he pulled her lower lip into his mouth to suckle. Slowly, he soothed her down from the heights where he’d taken her. Her trembles subsided, leaving her filled with warm lethargy.
“I think you need to build your energy up after that performance,” he said. “We should have dessert now.”
“Dessert?” Gayle opened blurred eyes, then closed them again when it was too much effort to resolve the wavering images into a scene that made any sense. “I couldn’t possibly eat dessert. I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“I’ll just have to feed you, then.”
