Chapter One

I lay in bed after a long and boring day where I’d watched far more daytime TV than is good for a person. I’d eaten soup—tomato and basil for lunch, and carrot and coriander for dinner. I’d struggled to brush my teeth, wash and jump into my pyjamas for bed.

It took a while to get comfortable, hauling my arm into position, propping it up on a pillow. I shut my eyes, no longer tired. My brain ticked over and I wondered about getting back up, but what would I do if I did? There was always the old standby, the one thing that was guaranteed to send me off to sleep.

I wasn’t feeling particularly horny but I knew an orgasm would work. I pushed my left hand into my bottoms and sought out the fantasy that always pushed my buttons. I imagined a tall, thick-set man with large hands and a straight jaw commanding me to bend over his desk. It wasn’t a fancy kind of fantasy, it was pretty run of the mill but it would help me come and get me to sleep which, at that moment, was all that mattered.

I bent over the imaginary desk and felt the unreal touch of my master peeling back my skirt and caressing my cotton covered buttocks. As I fantasised I slid my finger between my lips and struggled to get the angle right, to touch the places I like to touch. I tried to concentrate on the dream. It was my best bit, the anticipation of the first strike.

I played it out, waited for it and gasped when the ghost hand struck my ethereal buttock. The spanks continued and I felt the curling of desire deep inside. My fantasy played on, knickers removed, bare arse spanked, then his cock was forcing into me, his pelvis bouncing off my reddened buttocks, the pain highlighting the pleasure. I tried desperately to come, I really wanted to, I was desperate to but I just couldn’t find the rhythm and my wrist ached so much that in the end I gave up in frustration.

The annoying thing was I didn’t even break my arm doing anything dramatic. I was walking up the stairs to my office and managed to miss the top step. I caught my toe on it and tumbled forward—I broke the fall with my hand and crack, my wrist gave way. I don’t know how it happened and I maintain I was not staring at my male colleague’s bum at the time.

Not only did my wrist break, it exploded. When I got to hospital and was X-rayed, it showed my poor wrist had been well and truly shattered. I had to have surgery to pin it all up. I felt sorry for the poor surgeon having to put that bone jigsaw back together! I was kept in hospital for a night then sent home with a sick note. I’m completely right handed and my job depends on me typing. I can’t type with one hand.

I was glad to be home at first, even if my arm ached despite the fact I was rattling with the painkillers they’d given me. It was when I had to feed myself that I really came to see how difficult it is to do things with one hand. I was going to have beans on toast but have you tried opening a can with one hand? And buttering toast is equally as challenging. I was useless. I couldn’t put any pressure on my bad arm, and I couldn’t pinch together my fingers so I couldn’t even open a packet of crisps. I ended up going down to the corner store and picking up a few of those pots of soup. I could just about manage to peel back the tab if I propped the pot against the wall beside my toaster. I ate my soup from the pot, which I put on the coffee table and leaned over. In my small flat, it was the only table I had.

I got by and, for a few days, it was nice to lounge around in my pyjamas watching telly and eating soup, but there’s only so many antiques programmes and reality shows you can watch before you long for something more stimulating. The night of the frustrated wank was the last straw, the next morning I woke up determined to go outside and do something for a change.

I washed as well as I could and brushed my teeth. I’d worked out how to get the toothpaste on without having to hold the brush—a lot of it ended up all over the sink but at least I managed it. The real challenge came when I had to get dressed. I decided on a skirt and a blouse. I wasn’t happy but I decided to forgo the bra. I just couldn’t work out a way to put it on and fasten it by myself. I’d never go out with the ladies unhitched under normal circumstances—they’re big and wobbly and need some support—but my choice was go out without a bra or stay in, and I really couldn’t face another day inside.

I put my arm into the sleeve of the blouse then reached behind me with my good arm to put on the other. I didn’t feel quite so clever when I had to do up the buttons one-handedly but on the second attempt I managed to get them fastened correctly. It had taken me nearly an hour but I had succeeded in getting dressed.

It was a little cold out for a skirt and slip on shoes but I shrugged on my black, long-lined coat and it gave me another layer of warmth. It felt strange having the coat sleeve dangling where my arm should be but I was just glad to be out. And who would I see? No one who’d know me, so who cared if I looked a little unkempt? My hair probably wasn’t combed as well as it should have been, my teeth could have been whiter, but I was outside in the fresh air so I didn’t worry about anything else.

It was a crisp day at the early dawn of spring. The air was cold, there were grey clouds in the sky but the trees had buds and the starts of green leaves poking from their branches and the world was all but ready to leap back into life again.

I walked down the main street, past the corner shop and the launderette. I carried on past the post box and turned the corner to head towards the park. My stomach rumbled when I caught the scent of freshly cooked bacon on the air. I had eaten an apple for breakfast, it was all I could manage one handed. I’d tried cereal one day but dispensing it was challenging and the mess and effort simply wasn’t worth it.

I ignored my tummy. As much as I longed for something proper to eat I also didn’t want to actually interact with anyone. I was out for a bit of fresh air and exercise, nothing else. I couldn’t face people with my loose, swinging boobs in my inappropriate-for-the-time-of-year clothing.

I walked on past. I wouldn’t have been able to manage a bacon butty anyway. Sandwiches are tricky, I was sure all the bacon would splurge out and I’d end up looking a fool. I continued on to the park and admired the peeking heads of crocuses in purples, whites and golds. Even the daffodils were raising their heads, blooms protected by green crinkly leaves that looked like wrapping paper. It wouldn’t be long until they opened and trumpeted the arrival of spring to the world.

The park isn’t incredibly big. It has a small play area for the kids and a huge field with both rugby and football goals on it for those who liked to chase balls of all shapes and sizes. It’s a pleasant green space in such an urban area, but it’s not exactly Hyde Park. It took me less than ten minutes to walk all the way around it once, so I did it again just to waste time.

It was relatively quiet—a little late for the dog walkers and a little early for the post-lunch mums and toddlers. After the second lap I was mostly warm, though my exposed legs were not. I decided to head back. I had a thrilling pot of soup to look forward to. I walked back past the café, the scent of bacon still strong, and I nearly made it all the way past but something made me stop and look at the menu on the door.

A guy in blue overalls stepped out and held the door open, I smiled and entered, unwilling to walk on in the face of such gallantry. The interior was clean but dated. Formica topped tables were matched with plain plastic chairs topped by those squashy, plastic almost-cushions stuck to their seats.

The colour scheme was red and white—the top of the serving counter was the colour of candied cherries. I smiled at the guy behind it and sat down at one of the tables. I struggled to undo the buttons on my coat and shrugged it off my shoulders. I then reached out for the menu in the centre of the table.

“Would you like a hot drink, miss?” A deep, lightly accented voice asked from behind the counter. I looked up and nodded.

“A cup of tea, please,” I asked.

“Milk and sugar?”

“Just milk,” I replied. “I’m sweet enough.”

His smile made my tummy flip. He was a very attractive man, tall with broad shoulders and big hands. His eyes were piercing blue and his hair was dark, black as treacle and messily pushed back from his face. It was spiked up randomly as if he’d just run his fingers through it. It was too long to be considered cut short, but too short to be considered long. It was right in the middle, comfortably scruffy.

He wore a white apron over a navy blue T-shirt, and faded denim jeans. When he turned to pick up a mug I ogled his tight arse, pert and curvy, cupped by the old, faded material perfectly. I wanted to squeeze it to feel its ripeness. I was glad I was sitting just where I could see between the gap in the counter or I’d have missed that sexy show.

I shook my head briefly. I didn’t know the guy’s name, I shouldn’t have been thinking about sexually harassing him, even if he was the hottest guy I’d seen in weeks.

“What happened?” he asked when he put the mug filled with tea down on the table before me.

“I tripped, landed badly on my wrist and broke it.”

“Ouch.” He scrunched up his face in sympathy. “You right-handed too?”

I nodded.

“Nightmare.”

“It is,” I sighed.

“Have you decided what you’d like to eat?”

I looked back to the menu and everything required cutting or holding and I wasn’t confident I could do either of those.

“Erm, no, I think I’m okay with the tea, thanks.”

I hoped he didn’t hear my stomach growl in protest over my words.

“Okay.” He smiled and picked up a discarded mug from the next table then wiped it clean with a cloth he had tucked in the front pocket of his apron.

“Just shout if you change your mind, I can whip something up for you very quick.” He winked.

“Thanks.” I lowered my gaze and heat flushed in my cheeks.

“Stop flirting with the pretty customers, Lucas and come take my order.” A gruff but good natured call came from the corner.

“All right, Frank, I’ll be over right away.”

Lucas smiled at me and winked. “I have to go look after my best and most annoying customer, his addiction to bacon keeps me in business, you know.”

Frank guffawed and his whole body shook with it. I could just see his grin peeking out from a beard that seemed to be eating his face. I smiled politely and picked up my cup as he moved away towards Frank’s table. I held the white mug in my hands, enjoying its warmth but knowing the contents would be too hot to sip just yet.

I watched Lucas go about his business. It was good to be somewhere different and be talked to as a person, not a patient. I suppose most people have visitors and friends and family to take care of them after an injury like mine, but I didn’t. I was an only child, my father died when I was a baby and my mum passed away when I was in my twenties. I had no other family and I’d never been good at making friends. I’d worked for years in the same office and although I knew many people by name, I’d never spent any serious social time with any of them.

Most of the time I’m happy to keep my own company. I’m not quite a hermit but I certainly don’t mind keeping myself to myself. Which is all well and good when I’m in work and interacting with people all the time. I found being alone all day every day to be very wearying.

I wondered if I was reacting to Lucas so viscerally because I was lonely and horny. Would I be so attracted to him under usual circumstances? He was certainly good looking, well-proportioned and incredibly masculine. The conversation we’d shared seemed to indicate he was personable too.

I watched Lucas cooking. He seemed to be preparing far more than a bacon butty but I didn’t think too much about it. He was singing along to the radio and his deep tone vibrated pleasantly as I sipped at my tea, which was very well made, just strong enough for my liking.

“Here you go, Frank, enjoy.” Lucas passed his customer a plate on which tottered two sandwiches filled with bacon. I licked my lips and felt my stomach rolling with jealousy. I was surprised when he continued to walk over and he placed the other plate he was carrying on the table before me.

“I didn’t order this.” I waved my hand in front of me.

“No, but you want it,” he replied. “Eat up.”

I looked down and an array of fried delights greeted my sight. A fried egg, two slices of bacon, a thick sausage, beans and a couple of slices of toast. Everything cut into bite sized pieces.

“Oh, wow, thank you.” I smiled, tears pricking at my eyes because I was so touched by his kindness.

“You’re welcome.” He grinned. “I knew when you came in I needed to look after you.”

I dug in with great relish. It was the first real food I’d eaten in what seemed like forever. It was such a sensual delight—there was texture to my food, crispness and velvety smoothness. I dug in with gusto.

Frank left sometime between me starting on my fried egg and finishing the last of my bacon.

“How’s your food?” Lucas asked, moving to remove Frank’s plate from the table.

“Heavenly,” I moaned. “This is the first proper food I’ve eaten in days.”

“I knew it.” He nodded, put the plate down in the sink then walked over to me. “You need someone to look after you.”

“I do.” I was caught up in the bright blue of his eyes and brave enough to say the truth.

“I will look after you.” He reached out and covered my hand with his. I couldn’t respond, my brain went completely blank. “Come back here at five and I’ll give you a meal.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to.”

“No I do, I do. Food is so important for healing.” His hand was still over mine and his touch burnt against my skin.

“It’s very kind of you”—I smiled—“but you must be so busy.”

“I close at two, in five minutes in fact. So don’t you worry.”

“Oh, now I feel even guiltier about it.”

Lucas shook his head. “No, no. I am offering because I want to do it, I would be sad if you refused.”

“Well in that case then, I guess I should just accept your generosity.”

“You should”—he squeezed my hand tightly—“by the way, what is your name? You know mine.”

“I’m Sally,” I replied. “Lovely to meet you.”

“And you,” he responded. “So how exactly did you hurt your arm, was it long ago?”

I told him the story, leaving out mention of the guy with a nice arse and the whole time he kept a hand on mine. It was both comforting and arousing. I wanted to feel his fingers all over me.

“And no one is looking after you?”

I shook my head. “I live alone,” I explained. “I’ve been looking after myself.”

“Well, no more.” He squeezed my hand again.

I looked into his eyes and smiled. He seemed so close to me, had I moved closer to him? Could I push a little nearer and would he accept the press of my lips on his? I didn’t have to make a decision in the end because Lucas pushed forward and kissed me.

I stopped thinking and just kissed him back. Our hands stayed entwined as I felt the pressure of his plump lips against mine, making my nerve endings tingle and sending pleasure signals to my brain and all over my body. I wanted to squeeze closer, push my body to his, all the pent up sexual frustration from the night before bubbled just below the surface, waiting to be set free.

“Sorry”—he pulled back and pursed his lips—“I shouldn’t have taken advantage.”

“No, don’t apologise, I liked it.”

“You’re just so beautiful, I can’t help myself.”

I felt the heat of a blush creeping up my chest to my cheeks.

He kissed me again with much more confidence and I groaned my delight when his tongue slipped between my lips. I knew it was crazy, in fact I did wonder for a moment if it was all just a painkiller induced hallucination, but I didn’t care, I was too busy enjoying it. Lucas pressed a hand to my side and his thumb caught the underside of my breast. I moaned and the vibration moved through me to him and he responded by pushing harder against me. I was so caught up in the moment that I leaned too far over and my bad arm slipped down off the table and cracked against my knee.

I pulled up with a wince and Lucas shot out a hand to rub along my plaster.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes”—I tried hard to smile through the blossoming pain—“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry, I will have to remember to be gentle with you.”

“Not too gentle.” I squeezed out a cheeky wink.

“Really?” He growled, and I giggled, which shocked me as I’m not much of a giggler under usual circumstances but then, I wouldn’t normally snog the face off a stranger either, so it was a day of firsts and unusual occurrences.

“Oh, well, I’ll have to remember that.”

I was contemplating saying something else out of character, like ‘tie me up and spank me’ or ‘fuck me now’ as I stared into his eyes and saw the light of kinky experimentation there, but the phone rang.

“I better go,” I said with a reluctant sigh.

He nodded and spoke to me as he turned to answer it, “Okay, I’ll see you at five, yes?”

“Yes,” I tossed back. “See you later.”

I wandered back to my flat in a daze. I wondered what would have happened if that phone hadn’t rung. Would I have had sex right there over the café table, with the open sign still on the door? I probably would’ve done. I could have blamed it on the meds or cabin fever, but really it was just Lucas. He addled my brain and not in a bad way. I would’ve done anything for him, or at least I would’ve given it serious contemplation.

Why? Well clearly he was hot and clearly he was kind and there was definitely some kind of chemistry between us. He’d said I was beautiful, I’m not sure I’d ever been called that before.

It might have only been a few hours to wait but it seemed like forever. My arm ached but I didn’t care—I didn’t want to take any more medication, I needed my wits about me. I wanted to enjoy whatever happened to the max.

I must have changed my mind a thousand times about going back to the café. I’m a savvy, single woman and so I knew going back to an establishment once it was shut to meet a man I barely knew was risky. However, my gut told me that I’d felt the most safe, the most comfortable in Lucas’ presence and there had to be a good reason for that. He wanted to look after me. He didn’t want to hurt me. I had to follow my instinct.

I didn’t leave my flat until five o’clock. I watched the time for half an hour and I kept thinking about leaving before time, but I knew if I did, I’d end up on his doorstep really early and I didn’t want to seem too eager. It only took three minutes to get to the café, so I was barely late when I knocked on his door.

I waited. The time lagged and I contemplated if maybe I was wrong, maybe I’d come back at the wrong time. The seconds rolled into minutes, I wondered if I had conjured it all up in my fevered dreams. I was just about to walk away when I heard the rattle of a bolt then the click of a key in the door.

“Sally.” Lucas smiled. “Come in.”

“Hiya,” I replied and squeezed myself past him.

“I will just lock the door after you, okay? You have to be so careful these days.”

I nodded. Lucas pushed back a top and bottom bolt, giving me a great view of his buttocks straining against the tight denim of his jeans. He then turned a key in the door and slipped the jangling bundle into the pocket of his jeans.

“I’m just finishing the vegetables,” Lucas said. “Would you like to join me in the kitchen?”

“Sure, but I’m pretty useless as an assistant right now.”

“No problem”—he winked—“just stand there and be beautiful. You can do that without effort, I’m sure.”

I giggled again, the light, musical sound feeling foreign to me but also exciting and pleasing to the ear. I didn’t laugh enough.

“Let me take your coat.” He stepped forward and I struggled to undo the buttons with my one useful hand that, rather counter-productively, was shaking with tension.

“Here, I’ll help.” Lucas popped open the top button and I dropped my hands to my side. He continued to undo each one.

“I’m useless with my arm like this,” I commented. “I feel like a little kid.”

Which I certainly did on one level. I was embarrassed to need such help from a sexy man who smelt of spice and leather, but my more visceral reaction was certainly very grown-up indeed. I didn’t want him to stop taking my clothes off. I wanted him to strip me naked.

“Oh, Sally, you certainly do not feel like a child.” He skimmed his hands down inside my coat and over my breasts, still loose under my blouse as I’d not worked out a way to get on a bra and I didn’t have any other clothes that were so easy to put on. I gasped.

“No, you feel all woman to me.” He squeezed my waist and winked. “Now, I have to go check on the vegetables before they burn, come join me.”

I followed him into the kitchen, my skin tingling and my mind whirling with imaginings. I shook my head and tried to concentrate on what was happening and not on fantasising about him revealing my breasts and sucking on them, leaving my arms tangled in my coat behind my back.

Lucas threw my coat over a table as he walked in. Coming back to the here and now, I became aware of the mouth-watering scents.

“Oh, it smells delicious in here.”

“Thank you.” He smiled. “I’ve made you my favourite meal, moussaka, it reminds me of my mum.”

“Ah, so you do have some exotic heritage then.”

He nodded and turned to the oven.

“Yes, my mum was Greek. She moved here when I was a little kid. So not that exotic.”

He picked up a plastic spatula and pushed some carrots around in a frying pan.

“You have a distinctive twang to your accent,” I said. “I wondered what it was.”

“So you, where are you from?”

“Lived here all my life,” I responded, watching him confidently shake a pan of asparagus. “Rather boring really.”

“No, no.” He shook his spatula at me as he spoke and was so vehement in its stabbing movement that it slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor. “You are not boring and you should not be so quick to put yourself down.”

He bent to pick up the implement and threw it into the sink.

“Sorry,” I apologised. “It’s a bad habit.”

“Very bad,” he said. “You should never give people opportunity to say bad things about you, should never think it in your mind. That is my key to happiness. You are the best you there will ever be, so be proud of that.”

I nodded.

“Could you open the drawer beside you and pass me a clean spatula and a wooden spoon?”

“Sure.” I turned slightly to the side and looked questioningly at him. He nodded as I pulled at the handle closest to me. I dug out a spoon and a flat, wooden spatula then passed them both over.

He put the spatula onto the side and used the spoon to stir the veg, then he turned the heat off under them.

“Okay, so, I think you need to learn a lesson.”

“What lesson?” I felt the pressure of my blood rushing around rising in my ears.

“To respect yourself and to not make me so angry I drop my cooking implement.”

I dropped my gaze and looked at my toes.

“What do you think, Sally, do you need a lesson?”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next but I was curious enough to find out.

“Look at me.”

I lifted my head again and met his piercing stare.

“Do you deserve to be punished?” he asked.

I gulped. The time had come. We were at the point where the dynamics flipped. I either handed him complete control or I didn’t. I could live out a favourite fantasy or I could chicken out and maybe lose Lucas in the process.

“Yes,” I gasped, mouth dry, body numb, heart racing.

He nodded and walked towards me. “Correct answer. Now turn and lean over the counter, please.”

I faced the counter and looked out over the sea of empty tables. The blind was down in the large shop window but I wondered if our silhouettes showed through.

“Hold on.” Lucas grabbed a hand towel from where it hung by the sink, folded it and placed it on the counter top. “Put your bad arm on there, and if it hurts or any of this becomes too much, just shout out ‘moussaka’ and I will stop right then. All right?”

“Yes, thanks.” I rushed the words out, eager for him to know I was ready and willing.

“Okay, now from here call me Sir, and speak only when I tell you to. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” I let the words tumble out breathily.

“Good girl. Bend over now and ready yourself.”

I leant forward and placed my plastered arm onto the towel. The other I rested opposite, and I pushed my breasts to the cold top which chilled me through the light cotton of my blouse.

I felt like a bomb about to go off, just waiting for that trigger to be pressed. I was primed, ready and eager for something. I’d never been spanked before—my previous relationships had been good but definitely not kinky. I’d enjoyed some fantastic sex with my boyfriends but none of them had ever suggested anything like this, and I’d always been too shy to admit it was what I wanted.

I couldn’t tell what Lucas was doing. He didn’t touch me for a long time, or so it seemed to me, and when he did I jumped a little as his hand rested on my buttocks. He gathered the material of my skirt and hauled it up to expose my arse. I had struggled into an attractive pair of knickers before I came out, black and satiny at the back with a panel of lace and pretty sparkles to the front. He folded back the skirt and tucked it under my waist band. I was exposed.

I tried very hard not to worry about what he’d think of my thighs, or if he could tell I’d not shaved my legs for a while. I tried not to worry about my arse and how big it was, but it’s very difficult to break a lifetime’s habit in a moment.

“Gorgeous,” Lucas crooned and gently stroked my arse. “Just perfect.”

I felt the doubts melt away and suddenly I was back to anticipation. I fizzed with it, vibrated imperceptibly with the pent up energy inside that just ached to be released. I pulled in a deep breath. It felt like my lungs were completely empty, maybe I’d forgotten how to breathe at all. As I let it out slowly, I felt the weight on my bottom lift. I braced to feel it land but it didn’t.

I stopped, relaxed a little and wondered what was going to happen next. I should have known because a split second later his hand hit my flesh. The light covering of my knickers seemed to provide no shield. I squeaked as the pain blossomed. I felt embarrassed for uttering such a weird sound but I didn’t have time to linger on that because he spanked me again a second later. The sharp slap first crashed with cold intensity then mellowed into a blossoming heat. The initial sting really hurt but the warming sensation seemed to seep through to my pussy and pushed me towards orgasm.

I had only felt the flat of his hand twice and I was already desperate to come. I wanted to feel more, even though the first slap really had stung.

“Ouch,” I exclaimed as he rained several lighter slaps on my arse, one after the other. Then I received a much harder one that knocked me forward against the top and exploded a pain that made my eyes sting with water.

It stung and I panicked then almost used my get out of jail free card, but Lucas stopped as if he sensed I’d taken all I could. He stroked my bottom gently and the harsh sting toned down to a more gentle throb, and once again I felt the white hot heat—it seemed to be centred somewhere between my stinging buttocks and my plumped clit.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” I whispered, “yes, Sir.”

“Good because now, these come off.”

He grabbed my knickers and yanked them down, flaring the pain in my backside once more.

He spanked me again, once, twice and three times. I yelped, squealed then moaned. I surrendered to his control.

“Okay, I’m going to use the spatula now. Just a few swats but remember, sweetheart, why I do this. You are the best you there is. Do not put yourself down.”

I listened to the chastisement and waited. I was warm, the counter below me was also warm, sweat pricked at my face and as I heard the noise of the spatula rattling against the top, I jumped. I didn’t want him to hit me with that hard, wooden thing. His hand had hurt so much, the wood had to be worse. However, below my logical reaction I was curious. I wanted it. I needed his punishment. I wanted to feel what that pain was like.

I found out seconds later. The wooden square impacted on one cheek and the crack hurt most at the middle, but the rest of my arse seemed to prickle with sympathy. I screamed because it was extremely painful. I squirmed, lifted up on to my tip toes. He waited for me to settle, left a moment—I wonder if he was checking if I’d say my word—then he brought it down again on the opposite buttock.

It stung. It wasn’t pleasant. Almost everything in me yelled that I didn’t like it, that I didn’t want it and that I should run away, but there was something deep inside that gloried in the pain, craved it, needed it. I held still after my knees sagged and I straightened them. I waited for the next impact.

When it came, it crossed both buttocks and where the edges overlapped with the imprints already there it felt like I was ripped open, but as soon as that sensation hit it passed into an intense pleasure that shook through me. I rubbed my thighs together and luxuriated in the pleasure that replaced the agony.

“Good girl,” he whispered and leaned over my back. “Can you feel me?”

I nodded. Even through the thick denim I could feel the ridge of his erection pressing into the cleft of my smarting bum.

“I want to fuck you.” He gathered my hair in his hand, stroked it, then held it back from my ear. “Can I fuck you, Sally?”

“Yes,” I gasped. “Oh, please, yes.”

He pulled back and slapped my arse again. I yelped.

“You forgot to say ‘Sir’.”

“Sorry, Sir,” I moaned.

“Don’t let it happen again.”

He slid his fingers down and cupped them into the warmth between my thighs. He split my plump lips and his middle fingertip caught the very underside of my clit. I whimpered with desire. My arse was on fire but my pussy was in desperate need, I was crazed with desire, I had to come.

Lucas removed his fingers and I moaned. I felt bereft. I tingled—the spanking had brought me so close to completion but I knew I needed more, needed him inside me.

His belt clicked, his zip whizzed and the jeans clunked to the floor. I heard a drawer open then the crinkle of a packet. I whined and rubbed my thighs together in anticipation.

“One more moment, sweetheart,” Lucas soothed, “I’m just putting on a condom, then I’ll be inside you.”

Now that was one prepared chef. I wondered whether he kept his condoms with the condiments. All silly thoughts were wiped from my mind when he grabbed my hip with one hand and guided his erection between my butt cheeks with the other. I spread my thighs and he pushed forward, his tip covered with a cool layer of protection pressing into me. My groan vibrated along my spine and down to my pussy. He gradually sunk deeper.

“You’re so wet,” he gasped. “Naughty girl, you loved your spanking, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” I responded, eagerly grinding back against him. He stretched me so perfectly. Lucas moved back then plunged forward and picked up a rhythm that carried me away. He banged against me with ferocity—my hips bumped off the counter edge but I didn’t care. I just wanted to come. I felt so alive with him inside me, my bottom flared with pain, my pussy contracted around him in pleasure.

With one hand he held onto my hip tightly and he hooked his other arm around me until his fingers rested over my pubis. He pushed them down into the heat of my folds and when he reached the plump hump of my clitoris, he rubbed at it in time with his thrusting.

“Yes.” I repeated the word over and over as the ecstasy within me built. I got louder and louder and Lucas grunted and moaned with equal gusto. When I came, I roared with the orgasm that ripped through me—like there was just too much to exit from my clit it needed to rip through my mouth, too.

Lucas gently withdrew his fingers and ran his hand down my back. He stepped away and I straightened up. It was only then I remembered my arm. It held me down with the weight of plaster and I had to work to lever myself up. I’d been so focused in on Lucas, my spanking and the glorious sex, I’d completely forgotten about my injury.

“Erm, Lucas,” I said hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“Could you help me pull up my knickers, please?”

They were tangled around one of my ankles and I wasn’t sure I could trust myself to bend down when I was still lightheaded with post orgasmic bliss.

“No,” he replied. “Just kick them off, you don’t need them.”

I did as he’d directed and before I could pick them up, he had. He winked and put them in his pocket. He did, however, untuck the skirt from behind me so at least my bare buttocks had some kind of protection.

“Sit down over there, I’ll bring your food in a moment, it just needs plating up.”

One of the tables was covered in a white cloth and a small vase of flowers sat in the middle. Knife, fork and spoon were arranged around little circular cork mats.

I listened to the clink and clack of preparation and smiled. I felt so content and comfortable. I didn’t question what had happened at all. It had been a good thing and I was quite happy to follow his commands. It had felt so good to lose control, but that wasn’t quite it. I hadn’t lost it…I’d passed it willingly to him.

“Okay, here we go.” He brought over two plates full of food. Mine contained chopped up asparagus and carrots and a large rectangle of cheese, meat and veg, divided into four smaller pieces.

“This looks and smells so delicious,” I commented, picking up my fork. “And thank you for cutting it up for me.”

“I told you I’d look after you,” he replied and sat opposite me.

I wiggled in my seat and felt the blossom of pain that still lingered there. “And you have”—I winked cheekily—“you really have.”

Lucas laughed heartily and dug into his moussaka.

“It was my pleasure, Sally.”

The meal was as delicious as it looked and conversation flowed between bites. We found we had many things in common—food likes, music preferences and even a love of reading the same kind of books.

“It’s so nice to have a proper conversation for a change,” Lucas said and lifted my plate from the table when I’d finished. “I talk to people all the time here but we never really say anything, you know? It’s so good to have a conversation.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” I nodded. “I’m exactly the same. I talk a lot at work but then I get home and I’m on my own. I can’t remember the last time I had such a fun evening with such entertaining company.”

“Me neither.” He dropped the plates into the sink. “I will wash those later, now it is time for dessert. I thought I’d go for something very British.” He pulled out a dish from the oven.

“Oh, that looks good, I’ve never met a pudding I haven’t liked, you know.”

“I love my sweet stuff too, and this is my favourite—apple crumble and custard.”

He served up two bowls full of the crumb-covered fruit dessert then carried them over to the table. He went back and transferred creamy custard to a jug.

He poured some out onto my dessert for me then coated his own. I dug in with enthusiasm. The soft melting apple and the crunchy, butter topping melded with the rich, warm custard blanket. I was in food heaven.

“Glorious,” I commented.

Lucas nodded, his mouth was still full. He chewed first then he answered, “Yes, British puddings are the best. My mum used to make them all when I was little. This was the one she loved the most.”

“My mum was an awful cook,” I shared. “One day she made rock buns and we ended up using one as a door stop for a while.

He laughed and shook his head. “My mum taught me to cook. I was crap at all the academic stuff in school but I rocked home economics. The other guys teased me at first, until they realised I was the only boy in a class filled with very hot girls who found it charming that I could actually cook.”

“Oh, yeah. The way to a girl’s heart is through her stomach.”

“I learnt that early on in my life. Went to catering college, saved up, got a huge loan and took on this place. I’ve not looked back. I love my job.”

“I don’t love mine.” I sighed. “Boring clerical work. I spend most of my time looking at a screen, wishing the photocopier would hurry up, or passing on meaningless messages to colleagues.”

“What would you like to be?” he asked.

I shrugged.

“Well, what did you want to be when you were a little girl?”

“I wanted to be a teacher. I’d spend hours setting up my dolls and showing them how to spell and do sums.” I chuckled.

“Then why don’t you teach?”

I shook my head. “I was going to but when I hit eighteen my mum became really ill. I couldn’t leave her to go to uni. So I stayed with her, got an office job and cared for her until she died. Then I felt like it was too late to change.”

“It’s never too late to change, Sally. You should chase your dream.”

I was about to say something about doubting I was clever enough when I looked at him and I realised that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Maybe I should.” I nodded. “It’s kind of scary though. I’m not sure I could go back to school now, I’m a bit too old for it.”

Lucas shook his head. “You are still young and it is never too late. A friend of my mum’s went to university when she retired. She’d always wanted to study English Language, so she did. You are not older than that, are you?”

“No.” I laughed. “About half of retirement age, give or take.”

“Well then, you should go for it.”

He was probably right. My life was so boring, so empty because I didn’t strive any more. I didn’t dream. I was depressingly stuck in a rut.

“You’re so damn chipper, Lucas, how do you do it?”

He chuckled and shrugged his manly shoulders. “I was born like this I guess, and my mother, she told me that if it weren’t for hope the heart would break. So very true.”

“Your mum sounds like she’s a lovely lady.”

“She was”—his face relaxed into something approaching a frown—“she was always my rock.”

I smiled gently. I knew there wasn’t anything I could say to make his pain go away, so I sat in silence. I knew what he felt. I finished my last mouthful of pudding and flopped against the back of my chair.

“Wow, I’m full.” I moaned. “Thanks so much for that.”

“You’re welcome.” He picked up my bowl and carried it over to the sink. “I’ll just wash these then I’ll walk you home.”

“There’s no need, really, I only live around the corner.”

“No, no. Not at night, not in the dark. A lady should not be alone after dark. I will walk with you.”

“Okay.” I realised he wasn’t going to be argued with, and night had fallen—I could see nothing but black under the pulled down blinds. He helped me into my coat when he’d finished cleaning up and, after locking the door behind us, he grabbed my good hand and clasped it in his.

“Will you come by tomorrow for breakfast?” he asked.

“I don’t know…” As tempting as it was, I was aware I’d already imposed myself on him quite a lot.

“Oh, come on, Sally. You know now I want you to.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“Good.” He squeezed my hand again. “I will look forward to it.”

When we reached the door of my block of flats we stopped. I let go of his hand and fished my keys from my pocket.

“Thanks…” I smiled nervously. “I’ve had a lovely time.”

“Me too.” Lucas kissed me. Our breath steamed between us as we pulled back, the clear night cold around our mutual heat.

“Look, do you want to come in?” The words stumbled from between my lips.

“I shouldn’t, I have to be up early.”

My look of anticipation dropped into one of disappointment.

“Oh, okay.”

“But as you asked so nicely, I will, yes.”

On the way up the stairs I was thinking that the one good thing about being armless was that I’d been capable of making very little mess in my flat. Yes, my bed was unmade, my kitchen bin was stuffed with empty plastic pots and the floors needed a bit of a sweep, but I hoped he’d not notice those little details.

He followed me into my apartment and when we got in he took off his coat and again helped me to undo mine. He hung it on the hook behind the door.

“Would you like a drink?” I asked, like I’d been taught good hosts should.

“No,” he replied. “I’d like to fuck you again.”

His blunt answer brought a flush to my cheeks and my eyes widened with shock. Before I could reply, he pushed his mouth to mine and pressed me up against the wall. My stupid cast arm caught between us and he pulled back a little to relieve the pressure.

“Come,” he beckoned. I followed him. It was weird—he was in control even in my home. He strode across the lounge to the door opposite, which led to my bedroom. He signalled for me to sit as he closed the door. I sat at the end of my bed and waited.

Lucas pulled off his T-shirt, and I admired the planes and dips of his chest. The soft caramel colour of his skin and the puckered peaks of his darkened nipples under the rolling curls of dark hair that covered his chest in a sparse mat. I wanted to run my fingers into it, to rub my naked breasts against his hardness.

He kicked off his shoes and unfastened then pushed down his jeans with his boxers and revealed his cock, which was fattening into an erection under the heat of my gaze. I waited patiently for his next command. He walked over to the corner of the bed.

“Kneel,” he told me, pointing to the floor. “Rest your arm on the bed, angle your head to my dick.”

I followed his instructions, feeling a warmth of gratitude for him remembering my arm. I scooched up to the corner of my divan. I rested my arm on the mattress and sat on my heels, anticipating what he’d ask next.

“Good girl.” He stroked my hair with a strong hand then grabbed a fistful and pulled my lips to his straining erection.

I didn’t wait for an explicit instruction, I didn’t need one. I licked out and tasted his flesh. I ran my tongue up to the tip of his cock and tasted the pre-cum there before I sunk my mouth around him and pushed my head down to envelop his shaft.

He hissed his pleasure as I wiggled my tongue, testing and tasting his width. I drew my lips up again then bobbed up and down in small, rapid strokes. He tightened his fingers in my hair and I heard his breath hitch. I loved the switch of control. I had his arousal in my grasp, well between my lips in fact. I could dictate when he would come. Except after a few moments, he pulled me off his cock and I was once again waiting for his instruction.

“You’re good with your mouth,” he said. “Another time, I’ll fill your mouth with my cum but now, now I want to fuck you. Stand up.”

He stepped back to allow me to press down with my good arm on the bed to lever myself up.

“Let’s take these off.” He undid the buttons on the front of my blouse, his wide fingers surprisingly delicate and deft at releasing the tiny fastenings from their holes. When the garment hung open, he guided it down off my shoulders, careful not to jolt my bad arm.

He moved down to my skirt, yanking it past my hips and leaving it pooled around my ankles. I kicked off my shoes and I was naked, bar the plaster anyway.

“Beautiful,” he gasped.

I felt it under the heat of his gaze.

“Lie on the bed.”

I did. I sat at the end and wriggled back. Even getting into bed is a challenge with a dodgy arm. Lucas paused before following me, and when he did, he had a couple of small, square packets in his hand. He put them down on the bedside cabinet then turned back to me.

“Can you lift your hands over your head?” he asked.

“I think so,” I said and moved them back. The right one pulled on my arm muscles more than the left. Lucas took some time to move pillows to cradle my arm so that it didn’t hurt to hold it back above my head.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied.

“Good, then stay still.”

He got up off the bed and walked out of the room. I wondered what was going on, but I lay still like he’d directed even as I heard clanks and squeaks from my kitchen. Surely he wasn’t making himself a snack! When he came back, he held a cucumber in one hand and a pot of chocolate spread in the other.

“I’m hungry,” he explained. He put the cucumber on the bedside table then sat next to me. He unscrewed the cap of the chocolate spread, dug his finger in then offered it to me.

I opened wide and accepted his chocolate-laden digit between my lips. I sucked it clean.

He dipped back into the pot, and when he withdrew it again he took it down to my chest and drew a line down between my breasts. The he took the finger to my nipples and painted the chocolate over the puckering nubs.

I bit my lip and waited for his next move. I arched my back as much as I could with my arms above me, and encouraged him the only way I could to lick off the mess he’d made.

“Nothing better than a hot, naked girl,” he said. “Except for a hot naked girl covered in chocolate.”

He dropped his lips to my tummy then ran his tongue directly up over my breastbone, gathering the chocolate in one sweep. I giggled—it tickled and the giggle melted into a moan as my skin tingled with the attention of his mouth on me. He continued to lick, smearing chocolate all over me and over his lips and my body.

I writhed beneath him and the pot in his hand dropped with a thud to the floor, neither of us concerned for its safety as Lucas sought out my chocolate coated nipples. One then the other, he sucked with sharp, intense movements. One then the other and back until I was dizzy with lust and aching all over, eager for release.

As he sucked, he pulled the cucumber down from beside the bed. He sat up, picked up a condom then slipped it down over the vegetable. I wondered if it was a vegetable or if it was one of those weird ones that actually classified as a fruit. I was interrupted from my strange pondering by the trail of the cold, condom-covered cucumber that Lucas dragged down over my stomach, through my pubic hair and laid it just over my clit.

I spread my thighs and Lucas scrambled down the bed then clambered over one leg to rest between them. He moved the cucumber down between my lips and pushed forward. It was cold and chilled my insides as it stretched me wide. I yelped and wiggled—the intense chill made me want to move away from it, like when someone tickles you, you might love it but you want it to stop…it was just like that, torture and delight.

Lucas didn’t let me pull back, he held the natural rod deep inside me. I looked down over my body and he was looking at where the cucumber split me wide. I couldn’t see what he could see, but I could imagine how lewd it must have looked.

He pulled it back a little then pushed back in. He continued to scrutinise the fucking action and I wondered if he was also imagining his cock in its place. The cucumber was hard and unrelenting in a way that a hot, human erection couldn’t be. I loved it, especially when he took one hand and fingered my clit as he pumped me. I felt an orgasm gathering deep inside.

“Wait, wait,” he cooed. “Not yet.”

I whimpered. I wanted to come. The sensation of being stretched combined with the manipulation of his fingers and the extra frisson of naughtiness of knowing he was watching it all so closely, drinking in every detail, was overloading me with pleasure. I didn’t think I could hold on any longer.

“Please, Sir,” I begged, rocking up and down on the bed in frustration. “I need to come.”

“Not yet,” he whispered.

“Please”—I humped my hips desperately—“please, please, please, Sir.”

“Come for me,” he said it calmly, slowly, but my orgasm was the direct opposite. It ripped through me and rocked my whole body. I gasped and curled up, everything within me throbbed. I panted and moaned my pleasure. Lucas removed the cucumber, prompting another flash of pleasure as my stretched walls contracted once again.

He knelt up between my thighs and reached over to grab up the other packet. He ripped the packaging and slid the condom confidently over his dick. He smiled at me and shuffled forward.

I had just experienced an incredibly intense orgasm but I craved more. I was insatiable. I wanted to feel the heat of him inside me. He butted up against my pussy lips and shifted his hips to prod against my opening. He sat there and I strained to feel him slip into me.

He laughed and I rocked my hips against him, the last chuckle turning into a moan as I managed to jiggle him a bit deeper inside. I saw the delight in his eyes as our gazes met and I knew this was a fight for supremacy. I would have to work to get him inside me. He wanted me to make him lose control.

I accepted his challenge without a word. I knew I had to keep my hands above my head. I really wanted to drop my left hand to where we nearly joined and guide him in but I just knew he’d think that was cheating. So I braced myself and wrapped my legs around his hips. He strained against me as I tried to pull him tighter in.

I struggled to grip him, to push him deeper and he simply smirked. It was all at once infinitely annoying and completely alluring.

“Ask me nicely,” he whispered.

“Please?” I begged. I wasn’t too proud. I wanted him inside me.

“Nicer than that.” He relented a little and his cockhead pierced me. I arched with the pleasure and asked again.

“Please, Sir.”

“What do you want?” he asked, sliding a little further inside me. His gaze never breaking away from mine.

“Please fuck me, Sir.” I gasped the words falling over each other in their eagerness to leave my lips.

He nodded once and with a forceful shove he filled me. I cried out as I was gifted with his hot erection. My pussy greedily sucked him deeper, I wanted to hold onto him but he pulled back and when he thrust in again and his body came forward, he put a hand above my head and grasped my good wrist with the other.

He held me down as he fucked me. He didn’t once look away from me. I wanted to close my eyes but I couldn’t—the challenge had changed, I had to look, I had to watch the desire dance in the blue of his eyes as we joined so intimately. I had to let him see the rawness of my lust. I had to let him in completely.

I came again, not once or twice but several times, a string of pleasure pulses throbbing through me and in the end I had to close my eyes. I wondered if he’d punish me for it later. I hoped he would. Then he came and stilled within me.

“Sorry I made a mess,” he said, “I will clean it up before I go.”

“Don’t go,” I pleaded, grabbing him with my good hand as he rolled to his side next to me. “I’ve been so lonely.”

The sheer depth of our love making made me bold enough to tell the truth.

“Okay, okay, I will stay, but I have to be up early in the morning.”

“I’m sure I can make sure of that,” I purred as he curled up against me.

“I’m sure you can,” he replied with a light chuckle, then he leaned in to kiss me.

“You know”—he propped his head up on his hand—“I reckon this was all a ploy to get yourself breakfast in bed.”

“No comment,” I smiled then giggled because he tickled my exposed tummy.

“I knew it”—he sighed dramatically—“I’ve been used.”

“Yes,” I replied. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

“No, complaints here, sweetheart. I told you I would look after you and I will, as long as you’ll let me.”

I was stunned by the depth of emotion in that light word play.

“As long as you cook and make me come, I’ll let you look after me.”

He nodded. “I will satisfy all your desires, Sally.”

“All of them?”

He nodded.

“You don’t even know what they are yet,” I teased.

“No, but I will enjoy finding out.”

“So will I.”

He kissed me. I felt so relaxed, so perfectly at ease with him. It felt like I’d found home, not just a place to lay my head. My flat had always been a place to stay—it had no life, like I had no life. I did the same thing day-in, day-out just because I always had and I was too scared to try anything else.

Lucas, in less than twenty-four hours, had helped me to see that. He’d shown me that I was the best me there was and I had to live life to the full. Apparently, self-discovery starts with a greasy fry up and a masterful man. Who knew?