FEELING LIKE A MILLION DOLLARS (wicked wednesday)

This week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt asked what hot, sexy things one might get up to with a million dollars. Well, owning this apartment might be a good start. Were it in London or New York, that might not be sufficient, but it’s in a small town in the Midlands and I might get it for that, perhaps having some funds left over to spend on time with my beautiful, kinky play partner, Miss Lilly Watson.

As I don’t have $1m burning a hole in my pocket, renting the apartment occasionally will have to be enough. And what an exciting, unique, quirky place it is; a huge open space full of original lighting, eclectic old furniture and industrial looking ornamentation.

We had a wonderful time on our first visit, full of kinky sex, champagne and good food. Actually, at first, the sex wasn’t kinky at all. This may sound strange, but the perfectly vanilla love making that we indulged in by the light of a neon McDonalds sign (I kid you not) felt to me bolder and more edgy than our customary, more kinky, fuckery, all bondage harnesses, vibrators and nipple clips.

For someone like me, uncertain of their sexual prowess and prone to occasional erectile dysfunction, there is refuge in the accoutrements of kinky sex. I think I’ve been hiding behind them. We’ve come close to pure vanilla before, but this time we quite simply took our clothes off (well, took each other’s clothes off to be more exact) and made love on the bed and it was really rather wonderful.

Then food. I had wanted to cook for Lilly for a while and this apartment seemed the perfect place. To have her wafting around in lingerie and a robe, drinking champagne and laughing freely while I prepared our meal, was just lovely. There’s a picture of her like this, but I’m keeping it to myself until Sinful Sunday.

I love to feed people I care for; not, I hope, in a creepy way, but as a sign of my care for them, the attention I lavish on the food conveying in some way their importance to me. Groups of friends, big family lunches, bar-b-ques with my boys, or in this case, just Lilly watching me in her silk robe; I want them all to enjoy my food. My wife would say I’m a show off and what I want is their praise, and she is correct, but I forgave myself that vanity a long time ago.

We nibbled on chilled king prawns, chorizo and good olives while I prepared tagliata, an Italian salad of warm, very rare steak with rocket (arugala for you Mercans), and shaved Parmesan. It was dressed with the cooking juices, mixed with a good, peppery olive oil, some herbs and lemon juice. Simple, simple food, ten minutes in the preparation, and yet quite perfect.

 

At one point, Lilly walked round to my side of the worktop and kissed me, seemingly for the simple reason that that was how she felt. It was such a lovely thing for her to do that I had to turn away and busy myself at the oven for a moment. You see, no-one has treated me that way for years and years, and the fact that I am paying her to do so has no bearing on how good it makes me feel.

Before our chocolatey dessert I spanked her over the back of the old leather chesterfield chair, pushing her head down into the seat, filling her senses with old leather. I spanked her because she made it clear that is what she wanted me to do, and it was doubly, triply hot for that fact; a consensual, intimate and supremely sexual act.

Later there was Dominance and submission, challenge and reward. I slowly, sensually wrapped Lilly in rope, tying a pentagram chest harness and positioning her in front of an old, full length mirror. I made her watch me flog her, wanting her to know EXACTLY when the impact would come.

“I like being able to see us both,” she told me. I was touched by that because I’m a big, old bastard and the idea that she likes to see us together was…well… nice.

I put clips on her nipples and the pain of it doubled her over, safe word welling up in her eyes. But I made her stand tall and admire herself in the mirror. She couldn’t do it at first; the clips were too harsh.

“Look”, I breathed close to her ear, “see how beautiful you look in your harness, the black rope against your skin; stand tall, dominate the pain, own it,” and somehow she did.

I held her face gently and softly smoothed out the last wrinkles of her pain-induced frown with my thumbs, so she stood calm and centred, the continuing challenge showing only in the depth of her breathing. It was such a perfect act of self-control and submission. Quite beautiful, really. I used my hands to make her come twice in exactly that position, watching the moaning ecstasy of her own orgasms in the mirror.

There was more. I bent her over the stool part of an Eames chair and smacked her bottom with a riding crop.  The chair is a 50’s design classic – it’s not everyone that gets to be beaten over an Eames chair! I like to hurt my submissives with style when I get the chance! Then we were back in the bedroom for more love making before it was time for her to go.

“Your sure know how to show a girl a good time”, she said as we parted.

I’ll take that. At my age, it’s pretty much the only game I have left.

But I fancy it’s a good one.

What an evening!

I really was left feeling like a million dollars.

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More million-dollar wickedness here: