15

She never failed to surprise him, this girl. He could not help but be impressed. Eric flipped open his phone and re-fitted his Bluetooth for convenience. 'Gareth, hi - you and Marisha still at home? Oh, you are? Well I'll bring her right out.' He snapped the phone shut. 'They've already taken their seats,' he informed Daniella once the call was ended. It was with a good degree of self-congratulation that he hooked the leash to her collar. 'Get back on all fours. We're going walkies.' It was hard to resist, rubbing her face a little more in her plight. He savoured the moment, as she dropped back into her crawling position, then he yanked his pet into motion.

The clamps pinched tight on Daniella's nipples, clung harder on every movement she made, sending little shooting-pains into her chest. Her breasts swung lightly as she moved into a slow crawl, the suspended chain clinking as she progressed, but even that mild pendular sway accentuated the prongs' grip on her tender extremities. She could feel the plug shifting about her rectal walls on every advance of her legs and the insistent tug of the leash on her neck. It was all she could do not to cry out from her suffering tits and filled bottom, but she held her head up even so, bit on her lip to stifle her own sobs and went to her next trial bravely. Go on, show off your hot little slave. Because that's what she wants.

As he unlocked and slid open the French windows at the back of his apartment, Eric could not help but be struck by the bearing of the young creature he had leashed beside him. Lithe and slippery once more with sweat, carrying herself with stubborn pride and biting down all expression of what she felt, she reminded him more of a reined-in jaguar than a tame little tail-wagging spaniel. And God how he loved it when she chewed like that on her plump lip... Damn! He brushed away those thoughts, urged her over the threshold and onto his veranda with one sharp tug at her collar. He propelled her shuffling with a hard slap to her bum cheek that made her cry aloud, past the garden furniture to the white railings, to where his neighbours could have a good view of his naked bitch.

'Climb up against the fence. Let them see you.' She did, clambering up in her stilettos and balancing herself evenly with her legs spread, leaning against the thin metal bars with her clamped breasts thrust precociously over the top rail. He felt a sudden surge of pride at having this delicious young thoroughbred to show off. The leash he dropped, letting it dangle in front of her, the phone he set aside, his hands moving to caress her body smoothly.

'Touch yourself. Go on, show how hot you are for this. Remember you're being watched.' God... Eric naked behind her, his touch starting to flow all over her, his engorged cock pressing into her ass-crack against the base of the plug, and eyes out there somewhere fixing themselves on her plight - her heat didn't take much showing. Her right hand dropped down between her thighs and her middle finger slithered easily inside the wet folds of her cunt to probe and search. The metal teeth on her nipples continued to shoot wicked little darts of sensation that lubricated her further, made her finger slip all the more easily into her pulsing channel. Eric's palms flexed on her thighs, fingertips pressing into her yielding, slightly buttery flesh until they trailed upwards over her loins, either side of her working hand, breaking and settling again to cup her poor sore breasts from below and gently massage them. 'That's it, explore yourself, give in to it. You want to give a good show, don't you?'

She delved deeper, lower back arching spontaneously, so that her shoulders strained back into Eric's broad torso and her breasts jutted more prominently even as they were stroked. Her body was over-stimulated and moving fast through the normally subtle gradations of arousal. Outdoors and on display to strangers, gripped from behind by this hard-bodied sexy fucker whose hard dick was ready to plough he any moment he chose, nipped at her front and plugged in her rear - it was mere seconds before her finger was buried to the third knuckle inside her, the heel of her palm mashing itself against her enflamed clit, juice issuing freely from the tight, swollen tunnel of her cunt.

'That's it, that's it, frig yourself, get yourself off. Go on, sweetheart, show what a hot little bitch you are. Go on, baby.' His fingers were pressing more urgently into her painful tit-flesh, his loins squeezing hard into her buttocks. He was loving this. Loving that he was parading her hot little body before his decadent neighbours, but crazy for her too, despite himself. She could hear the fierce, warm excitement in his voice, at odds with the cool he so often tried to adopt with her. Despite her myriad bodily sensations it was the knowledge of his desire for her that tipped her into orgasm. Her mewling cries increased to a full-throated scream, as pain and delight exploded together to consume her.

In that instant Eric reached up and whipped the sleep mask from her eyes. Light had already been exploding in her head, so she hardly registered the summer daylight till her wild excitement began to subside. As her second climax of that day shuddered its way free of her, her audience became very apparent. A huge two-storey house of grand design had been built into the slopes stretching away from Eric's apartment block. Its white stonework had a rough-cast Mediterranean look about it and on the upstairs veranda a couple were relaxing, replenishing their glasses from a large jug as their afternoon entertainment played out. She was blonde, svelte and bikinied in her late thirties, he around the same age as Daniella's father, only better-preserved, hair silvering and bare torso tanned and muscular. Thing was, she recognised him.

'Gareth Malone,' Eric muttered into her ear. 'Ring any bells?' Bastard. Fucking bastard. Gareth Malone - accountant to Daniella's father over half her life. She had met him on numerous occasions at their home growing up, most recently the previous Christmas. He appeared to be scrutinising her intently from a couple of hundred yards away. 'Of course he may not have realised it's you,' Eric whispered his hands still patrolling her gently.

'You fucker,' she breathed, almost ready to turn around and slap him with all the force she could summon. She had no doubt from the transfixed look on Malone's face and the asides he was making to his voyeur-partner, that he was fully aware at whom he was looking. 'You think you're so damned clever.'