Six Weeks of Seduction by Ellis O. Day

CHAPTER 42:  NICK

“Ma’am,” Nick said, using a drawl as his eyes raked over her body.

She was dressed as a peasant girl with a long, tan skirt and white, scooped-neck blouse. His palms itched to skim up and under that skirt. Would she be wearing conventional underwear or would that too be part of the costume? Exactly what kind of underwear did farm girls wear? He couldn’t wait to find out.

“Mister.” She fought a smile as she placed her purse down on the table and locked the door behind her. She tugged her shirt up, covering her breasts.

“You’re old man Johnson’s daughter aren’t you?” He took another sip of his drink. He loved that shirt. It was too big for her and kept slipping down, giving him a peek at the top of her breasts.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“And what brings you to see me?” He shifted toward the bar, more to hide his erection than to play the part. “I’d think I’d be the last man you’d be searching out.” He had no idea if this were how old time cowboys talked, but he was always willing to try his best for a fantasy.

“It’s about my brother, sir.”

“The brother who tried to steal my horses?” He finished his drink and poured another. He turned to face her again.

“H-he didn’t mean it, sir. He’s only a boy.”

“Thirteen is not a boy.”

“He’s a good boy, sir.” She took a step closer, trembling slightly.

She should’ve been an actress. She looked innocent and scared. His eyes darted to the suspension rack and his dick swelled more. He’d had to jerk off before she got here, otherwise he would’ve grabbed her and fucked her the minute she’d walked in the door. He took a swallow of his drink and tried to focus on the game at hand, not her naked and strung up for him to touch and kiss and fuck in any way he wanted. “He’s a horse thief.”

“Please sir, he can’t be whooped. He’ll never live through it. He’s frail and sickly. Always has been.”

“He should’ve thought about that before he tried to steal my horses.” He shrugged. “The law’s the law.”

There was a slight frown between her brows. She’d probably thought he’d suggest that she sacrifice herself for her brother but he needed to be sure she was ready for this and so did she.

“Please, mister.”

“And what would you have me do?” He spun around on the bar stool so he was facing her. He almost grinned as her eyes dropped to his crotch and then back to his. Her face was flushed but he was pretty sure it wasn’t from embarrassment. She wanted his dick as much as he wanted to give it to her.

“Tell the sheriff that it was a mistake. That you ain’t pressing charges.”

“Why would I do that?” He sipped his drink, letting his eyes linger on her breasts. “What’s in it for me?”

“It’s…it’s the Christian thing to do and I swear he won’t do it again.”

“Don’t much care for doing the Christian thing.” He let his eyes go to the rack and then back to her. She was staring at the suspension hook now and her face was a little pale. She may be having second thoughts. Good, it’d be a better fantasy if she were a little nervous. “And you can’t promise he’ll never do it again.” He turned in his seat, putting his back to her. “Go home, little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl.” She stepped forward until she was standing directly behind him. “Please, mister.” She took a big, shaky breath. “I’ll do anything.”

He turned, his legs brushing against her skirt. “Those are some big words for such a little girl.” He bent taking the hem of her skirt in his hand and rubbing it between his fingers as he pulled it upward until her knees were revealed. “You should go home before you get hurt.”

“I’m not a little girl.” She reached around him and poured some of the Crown Royal that was sitting next to his bottle of Glenlivet into a glass and tossed it back. She slammed the glass down on the bar.

He raised his brow. “I’m impressed. You can down a shot, but that doesn’t make you a big girl.”

She stepped closer until she was between his legs. “Mister, I’m prepared to do whatever I have to in order to free my brother. Even take his place.”

He wanted to bury his face in her chest, lick his way across those tempting mounds of flesh and hear her moan, long and loud. Fuck, he missed hearing the noises she made when she came, but it was too early in the game for that. He turned slightly, pouring more Crown in her glass and handing it to her. “Your brother is set to be whipped.”

She swallowed and he watched her throat muscles work. He clenched his teeth to keep from grabbing her shoulders and pushing her down to her knees so she could put that long, lovely throat to better use.

“I know, sir, but he’s frail and sickly. I’m strong.”

“Hmm.” He wasn’t into hurting women even when they wanted it. He usually avoided those parts of the Club. Sarah had left him a note with the basic premise of this fantasy but he didn’t know if she really wanted to be hit with a lash. She hadn’t left one here with the other props so probably not, unless she thought he had one. He didn’t. “You sure?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“What’s your name?”

“Sarah.”

“We’ll need to take off your blouse.”

Her face heated and she cast her eyes downward. “Can’t you whoop me with it on?”

“No. The material in the shirt will get stuck in the cuts.”

Her head snapped up and her eyes met his. He kept his face stoic but relief surged through him. She didn’t actually want him to hurt her. He ran his fingers across her cheek. Her skin was warm and soft. He’d never tire of touching her. “Cat litter still your safe word, right?”

Most of the apprehension left her eyes and she nodded.

Time to get back into character. “Are you sure you want to do this for your brother? He might not learn his lesson if you take his punishment.”

She jutted out her chin. “I’m sure and he’s learned.”

He poured them each a hefty drink. He handed her the whiskey. “You may need this.”

She nodded and chugged the alcohol, coughing a bit. She handed it back to him.

“Let’s get started then.” His hands went to the top button of her blouse.

She grabbed his wrists. “You swear you’ll tell the sheriff to let him go?”

“I’ll even write it down.” He moved away from her and grabbed pen and paper from his desk. He wrote a note saying that her brother was to be freed because he wasn’t pressing charges. It’d been a misunderstanding. He carried it to her. “Can you read?”

“Of course, I can read.” She reached for it and he let her take it. She read it. “Thank you.” She slipped it into the pocket of her skirt.

He sat down on the bar stool. She’d moved away a few feet. “Now, come here.” He took her hand and pulled her closer so she stood between his legs again.

“I can unbutton my own shirt.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m in charge and I want to do it.” His hands moved to her first button, his finger caressing the soft skin below. “May I?”

“Yeah…I guess.”

He took his time, moving down her chest and exposing more and more of her warm skin. He let his fingers brush against her, causing her breathing to increase with each touch and then he froze. “What’s this?”

“A camisole. All women wear them.”

“Hmm.” He ran his finger across the cloth. “It’s soft.”

“It’s supposed to be.”

He slipped a finger underneath, caressing her skin. “But this is softer.”

She stiffened. “Is this part of the whipping, sir?”

He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. So, she wanted to be persuaded to fuck him. “We could do other things. Instead of the whipping.”

“I’m a good girl.”

“Shame.” He moved on to the next button and the next. When they were all undone he pushed the blouse off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. His mouth watered. She wore no bra, only the camisole—her pert breasts accentuated by the satin. Her nipples were already hard and pointing at him, begging him to taste them. If he lowered his head a little, he could take her in his mouth. The satin would get wet and the friction would drive her wild. He ran his thumb over her nipple.

“Sir, please.” Her voice was a bit breathy.

“Your brother was supposed to get forty lashes.” He couldn’t take his eyes from her breasts. He needed to taste them, make her moan. It’d been too long since he’d heard her deep throated sounds of pleasure.

“Y-yes, sir.” She grabbed his wrist stopping him from his steady caress. “I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can.” She may have stopped his hand from moving but his thumb still rested on her nipple. “But how about we agree to only thirty-five lashes on your back?”

“That’s kind of you, sir, but why?”

He forced his eyes up to her face. “I’ll give the other five to your front.”

Her eyes widened and she started to shake her head.

“With my tongue.”

She froze, her eyes dropping to his mouth. “I…I don’t know.”

He moved his thumb again, her hand no real deterrent. “I promise. You’ll like it.”

“I…I’m not sure.”

“Let me show you. Just one kiss.” He absolutely had to taste her through that camisole. He was pretty sure his life depended on it. “Please.”

“O-kay but only one kiss.”

He couldn’t help the half smile. “One kiss only takes away one lash.”

“Okay.”

He lowered his head, blowing across her breast. She was frozen before him, not even breathing. She would soon. No, soon she’d gasp.

“Ready?” His lips brushed against her nipple as he spoke.

“Ye-yes.”

He opened his mouth, running his tongue over her little nub and then around, again and again. Her hands went to his shoulders. She was trying so hard not to push closer to his mouth, but he’d win. She’d surrender. He closed his lips around her breast and sucked as he grabbed her ass pulling her closer.

“Oh…” She moaned—one long purr as her back arched, offering her tits for him to worship.

He sucked and licked—the satin hot and sticky in his mouth. He wanted to move to the other breast but he forced himself to stop. “Do you want to trade in all five lashes?

“Yes.” Her voice was more a plea than a word.

“Are you sure?” He couldn’t help teasing her.

“Yes, mister.” Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling his head toward her chest.

He chuckled against her other breast before taking it into his mouth. He moved one hand from her ass and rubbed the wet satin across her nipple while he suckled and teased her other breast. She was holding him close now, not wanting him to move as she gasped and moaned. He moved his other hand off her ass and began pulling up her skirt. He needed to be inside of her.

She broke out of her sensual fog as his hand brushed against her bare thigh. “Mister, stop.”

He froze, resting his head between her breasts. “Sarah, I need you now. We can finish this later.”

She pulled away from him. “I’m a good girl, mister.” Her hands were trembling and she was unsteady on her feet.

He took a deep breath and counted to ten. Obviously, his Sarah wasn’t ready to quit. He loved her fantasies but sometimes her dedication to them was frustrating. He took another deep breath. He’d give it one more shot. “You can trade in all your lashes for one night with me.”

“I’m a good girl, mister.”

“You liked what we just did.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he quickly continued. “Don’t deny it. You held me to your breasts. You moaned in pleasure.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her close again. “You’re wet and achy between your legs, aren’t you?”

“No, sir.” She flushed, looking down at the floor.

“Liar.” His hands rested on her waist. “It’s okay that you are. It’s natural. It’s good. We’d be good together.”

She raised her head, meeting his gaze. “I think you should whip me now, sir.”

“As you wish.” He grabbed the bottom of her camisole and pulled it upward.

“Sir.” She crossed her arms over her chest, stopping him from taking it off.

“Can’t have the cloth getting in the cuts.” He tugged on her wrist but she refused to uncover her breasts. “Move your arms, Sarah.”

“Leave it. I’ll take my chances with the cuts.”

“Your brother would’ve been shirtless.”

This time it was her jaw that clenched, but she raised her arms and he removed the camisole, letting his head get dangerously close to her breasts.

“Are you sure you don’t want to trade in some more lashes?” He said so close to her nipple that she had to feel his hot breath.

“I can handle thirty five.”

“Then let’s get this done.” His chest brushed against hers as he stood, causing her to gasp. He smirked as he strode to the suspension bar and picked up the cuffs.

“I thought you used rope.” She walked stiff legged over to him.

“That’d hurt your wrists.” He took her hands and clamped the cuffs around them, making sure they weren’t too tight. He raised her hands, which were both cuffed together, over her head and attached them to the hook. It was low enough that her feet touched the ground but she had to stand on tiptoe.

He stepped back, his dick screaming for him to let it out. He could do anything he wanted to her now. She was helpless and knowing her, she was wet and ready for him. “Are you sure about this, Sarah?” The question was for both the fictional and real Sarah. “I promise you’ll enjoy a night with me much more than thirty-five lashes.”

“Just give me my punishment, sir.” Her lips trembled. She was actually a little afraid.

“I don’t have a whip. The sheriff was supposed to bring that, and I’m not accustomed to whipping young girls.” His eyes met hers, letting her know that he meant that. He wasn’t into hurting woman.

“Then I guess you’ll have to use your hands.”

“I could or”—he unbuckled the belt that had come with the costume—“I could use this.”

Her eyes widened. Good. He’d surprised her. He’d bet a fortune that she’d checked out his closet of toys and had thought she could persuade him to use his hands. She could and would, but right now it was time to show her that she’d just put him in charge of her fantasy. He pulled off the belt and let it hang in front of her, long and ready to inflict pain. He stepped closer. “Anytime you want to trade in some whippings, let me know.”

He put the two ends of the belt together and snapped it. She jumped, her breasts jiggling as her nipples hardened even more. She’d been turned on when he’d threatened to spank her. He’d push her to the edge of desire—swat her a few times and she’d cave. Then he’d get to fuck her while she hung suspended—completely dependent on him. Damn, he loved her fantasies.