Her feet hurt. She could take an order in her sleep, having worked here in Avril’s restaurant since she was 15. She could carry a tray of soda’s with ice without spilling a drop, remember which customer ordered onions and mayo and which did not, and calculate a tip to the penny. But her feet still hurt.
She’d thought, several times, that she’d escape her small-town life. When Frank Wescott had roared into town with his Harley, hung out at the dungeon beat her bottom, and fucked her raw and brainless, he’d promised to get her a helmet and take her with him. Yet he’d roared off as he’d arrived – alone.
That was the same year her brother had become wheelchair bound, when she’d had to take on more work around the house to help her mom and dad as they made all the alterations to give Billy freedom in the house. Her mom traveled for her job, and Sam found herself working two jobs…one at the restaurant, one at home helping to care for her brother.
Often she had been too tired to indulge in her private fantasies at Club Crop. She had a need to be beaten and fucked and forced to submit. She’d played, dabbled really, at submission. Suddenly, with the arrival of Shae and her mother, things had gotten all turned around.
At first she’d been resentful. She had cut loose at the club, drinking to oblivion, not caring who used her. Seeing Shae in her wheelchair had made her so fucking mad. She was already dealing with a wheelchair-bound person – this was her private world, dammit! Yet, after she and Shae had a meeting of the minds at her father’s house, things had settled down. Somehow Shae had gotten Sam back into Dan’s good grace, and she had gotten a second chance.
For a long time she’d thought she had a thing for Michael, but that wasn’t right. He wasn’t the one. She had to admit that Shae had been dead-to-rights about that. She and Michael had never had the same “click” that she’d found with Daniel.
The steady throb in her feet faded as she thought about Dan. Dominant, oh hell yes. Her pussy pulsed softly and she shifted, not noticing her sore toes as her mouth watered, and her body reacted to her memories.
He was so fucking compelling. Hard. He was physically hard, mentally tough. He was good at bondage, at setting predicaments for her, and a master at handling a woman’s body. He knew where to touch, what she could take, and just how far he could push her beyond what she thought she would bear.
“You gonna close up and head home, or just stand there with that shit-eatin’ grin on your face?”
Avril laughed at Sam as she shook her head, escaping from thoughts of Dan. Reality came rushing back as she wiggled her toes in her shoes and winced.
“Go home girl. Been here since six, and it’s going on three.”
She didn’t have to be told twice. The place was pretty empty, just Jer and Daisy sharing a hot fudge sundae as they did every Thursday, as they had for 66 years, or so Jer said. She smiled and waved as she slipped back into the kitchen, hanging up her apron and heading out the back door.
The day was gorgeous, as the warmth of Spring poured into the mid-Atlantic. It had been a crappy winter, but days like this sure made up for it. Turning her face to the sunshine, she stood for a moment, letting the warmth soak into her.
“You’ll get freckles that way.”
Her heart thudded.
“Daniel..” she couldn’t speak past the lump that rose in her throat. Gods he was so fucking handsome. His hair mussed, likely from running his hand through it, his eyes gleaming, the flash of his smile.
“Come here and give me a kiss, pretty wench.”
She couldn’t play coy with him, nor flirt as she did with so many of her male customers. One step, two, four brought her to him. She leaned up, then up onto her toes to reach. Circling her arms around his neck, she moved softly, so unlike herself. The kiss was tender, sweet, a thing that was as much question as obedience to his wishes.
“mmmmm” he murmured against her lips.
His big hand cupped her head, and she felt both the heat of the sun and the heat from him. He was hotter.
He took the kiss deeper, lips nudging, tongue seeking. He took. She gave, more acquiescent than she’d ever been in her life.
“I’ll walk you home.”
“You don’t…” She broke off looking up at him. She wasn’t sure what they were out here, outside Club Crop.
His eyes flashed, and she suddenly realized that he was always “on”. Being a Dom wasn’t merely a costume he shrugged on when he stepped into the doors of the club, but an integral part of who he was as a man.
She dropped her gaze, fell into step beside him. Still, she was shocked when he took her hand, swinging it gently in his. He turned to cut through the park.
The way he drawled it out. The amusement of it. The thrill it gave her. Suddenly her nipples rose, pressing insistently against her bra, begging for his touch. Unbelievable the power he had over her.
“um…my house isn’t this way.”
“I know. We’re taking a detour.”
She thought of her aching feet, yet his hand held hers firmly, guiding her onto the path that led beneath arching tree limbs that were hazed with the first hint of swollen green buds. At this time in the afternoon, the park was quiet but for the call of robins flitting from tree to grass. He led her deeper into one of the quiet nooks where a grandmother maple stood. It was a local hang out, the fat low limbs perfect for junior tree climbers, and later in the evening, a secretive sort of place for quick beer parties.
He walked her right up between two low limbs, pinning her against the tree with his body.
“Close your eyes.”
Forehead to the rough bark, she complied with a softly whispered “yes, Sir.”
He lifted the skirt of her waitress uniform, and tugged aside the thong panties she preferred. In seconds she felt the head of his cock pressing, sliding into her.
“So wet and hot already. Such a slut, Sam.”
His words were almost growled against her ear, and she whimpered with the pleasure he was giving her. Balls deep, he made short, sharp jabs with his hips, pressing her into the tree, fucking her slowly. One arm came around her hip, feeling for her clit, rubbing it roughly.
“No cumming,” he admonished.
“B-but you’re…” she gasped “…touching..”
“Mmmmm, swollen hard clit. Lovely and suckable. Next time. Next time I’ll take you someplace, lay you over the hood of my car, and suck your clit until you spurt all over my face.”
The shivers built, almost un-stoppable.
“Oh sir…sir…i…i…” She clenched, squeezing his cock with her pussy, bearing down to try to stop what seemed inevitable.
“Cum…pour that hot pussy juice all over my dick,” He growled, his lips at the back of her neck. Small bites followed his lips, and that was her undoing, as she arched back, taking him deep into her desperate belly.
“And quietly…” He added. “Just in case someone happens by…”
Biting the inside of her cheek, she felt her body convulsing, as she exploded. She felt her pussy grabbing his shaft, swore she could feel every vein, each contour of him as her cunt tightened again. His fingers pinched her clit painfully as he joined her, pumping into her as deeply as he could, emptying his balls into her, their breathing as ragged as if they’d run a race.
After a minute, he tugged the thong back into place, as well as her skirt, and took her hand again, and led her on trembling knees, homeward.
It was amazing, but her feet didn’t seem to bother her anymore.