Intimate Exposure by Portia Da Costa Page B

masturbating, alone in her bedroom or the bathroom. She’d done it a hundred times, playing with herself and fantasizing. But here, in the back of a speeding car, it was exquisitely new and perverse. Her eyes flicked to the silhouette of their driver through the tinted glass divider.
    “He can’t see you.” Red’s smile was slow, not exactly taunting, but silky. “Perhaps we should let him? He’s a man, he’d enjoy seeing you fondling your breast…” He shrugged.
    “Perhaps not. We don’t want him to put the Rolls into a tree when he’s distracted.” His lambent eyes narrowed. “Come on, Vicki, you’re not doing as you’re told. Pinch your nipple.”
    She obeyed.
    “Harder.”
    She hissed through her teeth as the small pain intensified, and her urges fought a battle inside her. Obedience versus the urge not to hurt herself. The urge to stay still and stoic versus the rampant desire to wriggle voluptuously, fueling the growing ache between her legs.
    “A little harder.”
    Oh God, it was really hurting now. She had to gasp. She had to wriggle. She couldn’t help herself.
    Red surveyed her with Buddha-like calm, his face almost passive, as if unmoved by the show she was putting on. Slowly, he raised a hand to his jaw and began to stroke his beard, fingers moving rhythmically.
    “Yes, I like that,” he said at last. “I like the noises you make… Make more of them. Here, let me.” Without warning, he reached across, dashed her fingers away and tweaked at her nipple himself, and with far more pressure than she’d dare exert.

    Oh God, oh God, oh God…
    Vicki wasn’t quite sure if she’d exclaimed aloud. Probably not. The burning in the tip of her breast was so befuddling she couldn’t form words. She just moaned, long and low, then gasped and panted hard as Red drew her breast out from her rib cage to form a soft cone. Her legs flailed as if he were tugging just as purposefully on her clitoris.
    “What do you want, Vicki?” Still tormenting her, he leaned close and sighed the words in her ear, his breath sweet from the champagne, the fragrance of his body a thousand times more intoxicating.
    “I-I don’t know,” she stammered, tossing her head. She was afloat on a sea of exquisite erotic distress, buoyed up by the tiny, viselike pain in her nipple. It was unrelenting, and even as he increased the pressure, Red kissed the side of her face, her jaw and her throat. The delicacy of the kisses and the brushing sensation of his soft beard were a counterpoint to the torment in her breast.
    “Oh, you do.” His tongue flicked out to lick at the corner of her mouth.
    “I want to come,” she blurted out, the words muffled by the proximity of Red’s mouth. “I need to come… It hurts!” She wasn’t sure whether she was talking about her breast or the acute tension between her legs.
    Red laughed softly against her mouth. “And so you shall. But you have to earn it. We’re nowhere near yet.” With that he began to kiss her again. Slowly and thoroughly on the mouth this time, bestowing upon a her delicious exploration, and stroking with his tongue while his fingertips still delicately wielded their torture.
    Vicki groaned and groaned into Red’s mouth, incapable of doing more than receiving his intrusion. Vaguely she was aware of her own hands resting on the leather seat at either side of her, immobilized not by any physical force, but by the simple fact that Red hadn’t given her permission to move them.
    This was a new depth of arousal, a new kind of sex. Like nothing before. Not even her experience in the gym had come close to it. After the spanking, she’d rushed into the shower and quickly brought herself off. But she knew that if that hadn’t been possible, her body would have settled down anyway.
    Not so now.
    If I don’t come soon, I’ll die, I swear it.
    Both the punishment to her breast and the sweet, sweet kisses were fatal.
    But all of a sudden, both sensations ended. Red released