by Ashe Barker
“From what the police told Aaron, it’s pretty much as she was ranting in your room, some sort of misplaced religious fanaticism. She wanted to keep her culture pure, free of Western contamination. She had hoped to stop the wedding. It seems she saw me as a threat because I was organizing it. We’ll know more as the police question her further.”
“It is clear that she is mad—quite mad. Her mother is a close friend of my aunt. That is the only reason I employed her. I always found her strange, difficult to warm to.”
“Your instincts were right.”
“It seems so.” She linked her arm through Eugenie’s and steered her toward the ballroom. “Come, let us join our guests. We have a marriage to celebrate.”
* * * *
Eugenie was dozing on the sofa in Aaron’s apartment, her finery from the evening’s glamorous entertainment folded and placed on the armchair alongside her. She had pulled on one of Aaron’s T-shirts for warmth and still wore her pants. She could have gone to bed, should have probably, but had wanted to wait for him. Eventually, she could keep her eyes open no longer and stretched out on the couch.
The click of the lock woke her, if she had even been asleep. She wasn’t sure. She opened her eyes and pushed herself up on one elbow as Aaron came through the door. He looked tired, drained.
“Sir?” She sat up properly, pushing her hair back from her face.
He turned and saw her. “Genie? What are you doing there? I thought you’d be in bed. Waiting for me.”
“I am waiting for you, Sir. I didn’t want to go to bed without you, though. Have you eaten?”
“Yes, I grabbed a sandwich downstairs, from the night service kitchen.” He walked over to the small kitchenette and picked up the kettle. He shook it, decided it needed refilling and ran some water into it. He plugged it in and clicked the switch. “I need some tea. You?”
“Yes, thank you. What time is it?” She peered at the wall clock. Ten past four. Eugenie arranged herself on the settee as she watched Aaron make the tea. Neither of them spoke until he had placed two steaming cups on the low table in front of her.
He was still in his morning suit from the wedding, though he had discarded the jacket and the tie hung loose around his neck. He flopped onto the cushion next to her and leaned back. Eugenie had never seen him look more exhausted.
“Do you need to go back to the police station?”
He shook his head. “Not for a while. There will still be statements to go over, to sign. We’ll need to certify the accuracy of the CCTV images and, in due course, I suppose her defense team will try to prove we set her up somehow. None of that will stick, but I suppose they can’t be blamed for trying. That’s if it gets that far. I have a suspicion this will never get anywhere near a trial.”
“Oh?” Eugenie frowned at him over the edge of her mug. “Why not? Surely the evidence—”
“The evidence is fine. Watertight. But she’s really lost it. She was lucid enough at first but she’s just babbling now. The psychiatrists need to examine her, but personally, I doubt she’ll be considered fit to plead. She’ll be placed in some mental health facility, though I have no idea how long she’ll need to be there for.”
Eugenie wriggled into an upright position, her expression anxious now. “Sara may be ill, but she’s very dangerous. They can’t let her out.”
“No chance of that for the foreseeable. She had quite a tale to tell, though, before she stopped making sense. You were right about the gardener—it was Sara you saw that day.”
“I knew it.”
“But did you also recognize her as an electrician you had a run in with?”
Eugenie furrowed her brow, thinking back, “No, I don’t remember that.”
“Apparently you kicked up a fuss about some debris or something dumped in the ballroom, insisted it had to be shifted. Ring any bells?”
She nodded. “Yes. It was weeks ago now. Some empty boxes, I think. It was a hazard. And you know our rules about unattended packages. I went to look for the workmen who left it there. They were having their lunch. The foreman sent someone to clear up the mess but he insisted they didn’t leave it.”
“He was telling the truth. It was Sara who left it there. She found a pair of overalls and pretended to be an electrician because she’d hatched some wild plot to rig the overhead lighting. There were several different contractors in at that time and they all assumed she was part of another firm’s team. No one questioned her presence. She’d planned to see to it that the chandelier directly above the platform would fall during the ceremony, likely killing Lucas and Farah, and the registrar too.”
He gave her a wry grin. “But you spotted the gear that she left there, intending to come back later, after hours, and complete her little scheme when the rest of the men had gone. The only reason she wasn’t found out then was that she was with the men when you confronted them, and she volunteered to come back and clear up. If anyone else had touched the rubbish, they’d have spotted the wiring and explosives hidden among the packaging. You wrecked her plans and from then on, she had you in her sights. She saw you as the obstacle to her scheme and wanted you gone. She would have been happy just to scare you off, or have you incapacitated. That was her thinking when she pushed you down the stairs. The attack in the garden was more serious. She followed you out there and waited until you went to the toilet. As soon as your back was turned, she laced your tea with bleach, and if you’d drunk any of it, you might not have survived.” He dropped his head into his hands. “Christ, she came so close to killing you.”
Eugenie closed her eyes, remembering. “I was going to sit back down and drink that second cup. If that call from Farah had been even a few seconds later…”
He reached for her and squeezed her hand. “Your number just wasn’t up, love. Thank God. That didn’t stop Sara trying, though, and in her twisted reasoning, killing you became an obsession. It was as important to her as preventing what she saw as an unholy alliance between Sara and her heathen footballer.”
“So she decided to set my apartment on fire.”
Aaron simply nodded. “Same pattern as before. She waited until you finished work and came back up to your room, then she made her move. She had a wine bottle on her trolley and that’s what she hit you with. Once you were down, she dragged you back over to the bed, hit you twice more, just to make sure you stayed down, then she set fire to the waste paper in the bin. She sabotaged the lock as she left. Extra insurance, just in case you came round before the fire really took hold. The lock was disabled, so you wouldn’t have been able to open the door.”
“She truly intended to murder me.”
“Yes, my love, she truly did.”
They fell silent, each lost in their private thoughts of how close Sara had come to killing both Eugenie and Farah.
Eugenie was the first to break the silence. “I’m puzzled. Why did Sara go to Farah’s room this morning? After all her plotting and creeping about, she simply walked into Farah’s suite to shoot her? It makes no sense.”
Aaron lifted an eyebrow in acknowledgment. It was a good question.
“I wondered about that too. It seems that was also down to you, in a manner of speaking. She became so fixated on getting you out of the way that she took her attention off Farah and Lucas. She hatched no further plans to derail the wedding, then suddenly realized the great day had arrived and she needed to take urgent action. She was out of options, basically. As a member of Farah’s staff, she could gain access to her suite, so she went there intending to put a stop to the wedding one way or another.”
“Thank goodness we managed to work out who was behind everything that had been happening. It would have been so easy just not to connect the various ‘accidents’. If you hadn’t recognized her…”
“And if you hadn’t realized she was the same maid who was close by when you fell down the stairs. And better still, you connected her to the bleach incident.”
“You saved Farah. And me. I owe you m
y life.”
“You owe me nothing. Apart from perhaps a little more respect. And obedience would be welcome.”
“I do respect you. There’s no one I respect more. And I obey—usually.”
“I accept you’re making progress. But you have some work to do. As do I.”
“I don’t understand. What work?”
“Before I left to go to the police station, I distinctly recall telling you to enjoy the rest of the party then get some sleep. You’re still on sick leave, remember?”
“I slept on your settee.”
“You knew what I meant. You were to come back here when the wedding reception was over and go to bed. Yet I returned to find you dozing on my couch. It’s not as though my bed is in any way unfamiliar to you. I expected you to find it without any real difficulty.”
“I just… I wanted to wait for you. I would not have been able to sleep until you came back. Please, Sir, don’t make an issue of this. I didn’t realize it was so important to you.”
“When did I ever give you an instruction that wasn’t important to me? I expect you to obey. Or if you can’t, to say so. And to tell me why.”
“Sir?” Eugenie was desolate. A spanking was not in itself such a dismal prospect—quite the opposite, in fact. And a punishment did seem to be on the cards. But to have disappointed Aaron, tonight of all nights, left her with a deep sense of failure.
“I apologize, Sir. I wasn’t concentrating and I didn’t listen properly to your instructions. I realize that I was at fault and I’ll accept whatever consequences you feel are fitting.”
“Well, now we’re getting somewhere. Tell me, Genie, what are your plans for tomorrow?”
“Most of the wedding guests are leaving, but for those who remain, we have planned a garden party at Versailles.”
“You intend to be there? Working? Even though you spent last night in hospital?”
“I… I thought…”
“Elise has everything in hand. You know this. And you’re officially on sick leave for another week. By all means be at Versailles if you want to be, but as a guest.”
“But I feel fine now. Even my throat has stopped hurting. Almost.”
“I’m delighted to hear that. But it changes things how exactly?”
Eugenie studied her hands, still clasped around her now empty cup. She sighed as the truth sank in. “You are correct, Sir. I get too wrapped up in my work.”
“We all do from time to time. You are valuable, Genie. You are needed here. Which is all the more reason for taking care of yourself. That’s why Elise is helping you now. She wants you fully recovered and on top of your game before you come back to work. So do I.”
She nodded, tears forming behind her eyes. The care and concern surrounding her were almost palpable. She looked up at him, her vision blurring. “I need to be able to let it go, just relax and trust others to handle everything.”
“Yes. I can help you with that.” His tone had softened. He tilted his head to one side, waiting.
Eugenie regarded him under her eyelashes. She knew exactly what he was offering. She knew just how he would release her inner tensions, free her from the stress that wound so tight around her chest sometimes that she could hardly breathe. She reflected grimly that she had no need of a smoke-filled room to choke her, she could manage that perfectly well herself just by piling on the pressure.
“Spank me, Sir. Please. I need this.”
Aaron stood and walked toward the bedroom. At the door, he stopped and turned to face her. “Coming?”
Eugenie unraveled her legs from under her, staggering a little as she realized how stiff they had become. She tottered after him. By the time she reached the bedroom door, he was seated on the edge of the bed. He had a heavy paddle hairbrush in his right hand.
“Come here, Genie. Drop your pants and lay yourself across my lap.”
She had no hesitation in doing as he asked. As he commanded. He was her Dom, her Master. She slipped her underwear down her legs and stepped out of the pants before walking over to him. Her chin up, she felt confident, sure of herself—and of him. Wordless, she laid herself across his knees and reached back to lift the T-shirt. Her bottom bared for his punishment, she lay still. Waiting.
“I intend to spank you, hard. You have your safe word, but unless I hear it, I’ll continue until I think you’ve had enough. This will hurt, little one. I intend to teach you a lesson tonight. A lesson in obedience. And trust. Are you ready to learn?”
“Yes, Sir.” And she was. Truly, she was. She knew what she was inviting. What she was accepting.
Even so, it was the most painful spanking she could recall. Ever. But wonderful for that. Maybe because of her unreserved submission to Aaron, she had become more inviting, more welcoming of the pain. It felt different, the sensation more intense, unbelievably so.
The first few strokes were hard but bearable. Eugenie gasped, whimpered a little, but it took no real effort for her to resist the temptation to clench or cover her bottom with her hands. Not wriggling was more difficult, especially as Aaron ramped up the pressure.
She counted the strokes. He hadn’t asked her to this time, but it had become a habit. One, two, three. By seven, she was crying out with each blow from the hairbrush, the hard plastic handle delivering a deep burst of agony that sank deep into her soft buttocks. He waited a couple of seconds between each stroke to allow the pain to radiate, extracting maximum value from every slap.
Nine, ten, eleven. Eugenie writhed on his lap. His palm in the small of her back steadied and grounded her. His leg behind her knees kept her still. Eugenie relished the feeling of powerlessness, of being quite literally his to punish as he saw fit.
“Your hands, please, Genie.”
Obedient, she reached behind her for him to encircle both her wrists in his hand. The contact was comforting. She exhaled slowly, sinking deeper into her submissive mindset. She was experienced now, this feeling familiar to her. She knew that subspace was just moments away.
Aaron knew too, and set up a slow, steady rhythm, each stroke measured and executed with perfect strength. Too light, and she would have drifted out of the moment, too heavy and she would have used her safe word. He was able to pitch the spanking just within her tolerance limit and keep her there because she knew she was safe. Emotionally, mentally, physically, she was secure in the knowledge that no harm would come to her.
By the twentieth stroke, she was screaming his name, by the thirtieth, she suspected she had forgotten her own. She sobbed, cried out, her tears flowing freely, but still he didn’t stop, and still she wouldn’t ask him to. Her buttocks felt to be on fire, the pain blistering across her bottom and thighs. It would be days before she would be prepared to even contemplate sitting.
Still she didn’t want him to stop. She needed this, yearned for it, craved the bite of his expert spanking.
After the fortieth stroke, Aaron laid the paddle brush beside him on the bed. He rested his palm on her quivering, crimson ass. Eugenie flinched, groaned and lifted her bottom up for more.
“Mmm, so hot, sweetheart.” He lifted his hand to his mouth and mimed spitting on it then made a sizzling sound.
Turning her head and shoulders to face him, Eugenie answered with a watery grin, still balanced across his thighs. She knew she should move, but would wait until instructed to do so. She was happy enough where she was.
“Thank you, Sir. That was so good. Still is.”
“Not done yet. Spread your legs.”
“More?”
“Oh, yes. First, I want to see what effect we’ve had so far. Open your legs and show me your cunt.”
With a small shiver, Eugenie obeyed, conscious of her swollen, sensitized folds exposed for him to view. No matter how many times she opened her legs for his inspection, the eroticism of the moment was never any less for her.
“Fucking beautiful. I think you’ve been enjoying yourself, haven’t you, my pretty little pain slut?”
“Yes,
Sir. Please, could you…?”
“Could I what? This?” He thrust three fingers deep into her pussy, curling them to caress her G-spot.
Eugenie let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a scream as he continued to finger-fuck her. She squeezed her inner muscles around his digits, gyrating her hips as she sought more pressure, more friction, more everything. His grip tightened around her wrists, still held securely behind her back, which only served to increase her pleasure. Perhaps sensing her growing need, he increased the tempo, driving his fingers into her deep and fast as he lifted her bottom up for him.
“Please, Sir, I need to come. Now, I can’t help it.”
“No? You really should try, my love—unless you want more of the hairbrush. Is that it? Would you like me to spank you again?”
“No, Sir, I want you to fuck me. Please.”
“Ah, I see. Have you had enough of this, then? Would you like me to stop?” He stilled his fingers inside her, waiting for her response.
It came in the form of a long, low moan. “Please, Sir, I can’t stand this. I need to come. I need to be fucked. I need you inside me.”
“I know what you need. I always know and I always deliver. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Please, I can’t think straight. Sir, I just… I need…” Eugenie was close to tears, her desperation mounting as he slowly started to thrust his fingers inside her once more. She clenched, her pussy spasming, quite beyond her control as her orgasm bubbled and simmered, so close but just beyond her reach.
“On the bed. Face down. Now.” Aaron’s instructions were terse and to the point. He released her hands and Eugenie couldn’t obey quickly enough, scrambling across his lap to position herself as he had commanded.
Aaron stood and stripped, the work of moments. He knelt behind her, his palms gentle on her hips as he positioned her. Eugenie moaned, her entire body tense with anticipation as he placed the head of his cock between her swollen pussy lips. Just the first inch, maybe not even that, holding her open as she felt his gaze on her again at that spot where they were almost joined.