My stomach flutters at the thought. Hard to say no to that. ‘But you get your pleasure too, don’t you?’
He nods. ‘It comes from mastering you, enforcing your submission. I want you in my power, doing as I please. I get my own intensity of experience through fantasy. The beauty is where our fantasies meet and enhance one another.’
‘I see.’ I really think I do see. My experience in the boudoir has already shown me how everything can be more heightened with the introduction of suspense.
Dominic dips a langoustine tail in mayonnaise and eats it slowly before continuing. ‘In the chamber, once you’re wearing your collar, you’ll have to call me sir. It’s another signal that you’re prepared to obey me.’
‘And what do you call me?’
His eyes flash a little. ‘Anything I like. That’s the point.’
I feel chastened but nevertheless say, ‘But that doesn’t sound fair.’
‘I probably won’t use your name,’ Dominic concedes, ‘but I’ll call you whatever I see fit at the time. Now, the next thing is something all relationships of this type employ. Whenever we enter the world of fantasy, there is the risk that we’ll live it so strongly we’ll get carried away. So there is something called the safe word. It means “stop, I’ve had enough”.’
‘Can’t I just say “stop, I’ve had enough”?’
‘There will be times when you say “stop” or “no” or “I can’t stand it” but you mean something else entirely. We need a word that breaks into the fantasy at once and brings it to a halt. The usual choice is the word “red” but I want something different for us, so I think we’ll go with “scarlet”. Do you think you can remember that?’
I nod. ‘Of course. “Scarlet” means stop.’ But I don’t expect to use it. I can’t imagine that I’ll ever want Dominic not to do the blissful things he does to me.
‘Now, we could also agree various limits on what you’ll do and what you won’t do, but in this instance, Beth, I want you to trust me, that I’m going to take you slowly along the path and not do anything too extreme.’
‘Like what?’ I frown. ‘You mean, like the things in the dungeon?’
He nods. ‘I have a sense of your past experience and what your nature is like already. I think you’re very open to many of the things I’d like to do for you. A great deal of my pleasure will come from introducing them to you – and if there’s anything you don’t like, the safe word is your safety net. Will you agree to that?’
I think about this for a moment. It all seems very vague, but the equipment in the boudoir was so different from what I saw in the dungeon. It was sexy, feminine, erotic. Without that unpleasant promise of agony that the tools in the dungeon held. ‘I think I will agree to that.’
‘Good.’ Dominic smiles. ‘Then there is one more thing to agree. I want you to give me three nights, for the rest of this week, starting on Thursday night. The agreement will come to an end on Saturday so you’ll have Sunday to recover, and we’ll both have the option to renegotiate our terms.’
I stare at him, surprised again. When did our relationship become a business deal like this? I thought we were moving, rather deliciously, towards being a couple. It sounds suddenly as though all that is over by the weekend with an option to renew.
‘It’s for you,’ Dominic says softly, seeing my expression. ‘It’s all for your protection. Once you agree to submit to someone, you might feel powerless, but the truth is that your power is only on hold. You still have everything you started out with. It’s important to remember that.’
‘All right,’ I whisper. I might supposedly have power, but I don’t really see how I can say no.
‘Good. Then our ground rules are established. Let’s enjoy this delicious meal. Then I’m going to send you home to get some sleep.’
Disappointment rushes through me. ‘We’re not going to spend the night together?’
He shakes his head, laughing gently. ‘Not tonight. I’ll see you on Thursday night. I think a little bit of anticipation will do us both good. Besides, I’m away on business tomorrow and I’ll be leaving before dawn.’
‘Where are you going?’ I say, interested.
‘Just to Rome.’
‘What to do?’
‘A business meeting. Very dull, I promise.’
‘Rome doesn’t sound dull,’ I say longingly.
‘It’s not Rome that’s dull. It’s the meetings.’
‘I still don’t really know what you do . . . ’
‘That’s because I can think of other things I’d rather talk about.’ He picks up his glass, and changes the subject. ‘Tell me about this new artist you’re exhibiting in the gallery. I’m very interested.’
We carry on talking as though we are just a normal couple, enjoying dinner on a terrace in the breeze of a summer evening. Not as though we’ve agreed our strange erotic contract of power exchange. But the knowledge of what awaits sends a dark snake of excitement curling round my belly.
Where will he take me? Can I really let him?
I will know all too soon.
Chapter Seventeen
I know that Dominic has gone to Rome, so the next day I’m surprised to receive a letter, hand-delivered by a courier to the gallery.
I sign for it just as James comes out from the back. ‘Is that for me?’ he asks.
‘No.’ I gaze down at the thick cream envelope with my name typed on the front. ‘It’s for me.’
‘Oh.’ James looks puzzled, then his face clears. ‘It’s from the delectable Dominic, is it?’
‘I suppose it must be.’ I open it. There’s a key and a folded piece of paper which I open and read.
Beth,
I want to you to be at the flat on Thursday evening. Here is the key. You must be freshly showered and neat. Put your hair up so your neck is bare. I wish you to wear the collar you will find beside the bed. On the bed is the underwear I have selected for you. Be ready for me when I arrive at 7. 30. I want you kneeling on the floor by the bed when I come in.
Dominic
I blush and fold the letter up again quickly.
‘A love note?’ James says. He’s on his way out to an appointment, so isn’t really paying attention, for which I’m grateful.
‘Yes . . . that’s right.’ It sounds rather ridiculous, but I suppose this strange, terse little note does have a certain tenderness to it. It certainly holds the promise of something strange and exciting.
‘How sweet,’ James says.
That’s one word for it.
I stare at the letter and realise that I’ve undertaken a serious thing. He has given me warning that I have time to prepare myself, mentally and physically. Dominic knows what he is doing.
Thursday night
I am in the flat well before the appointed time, and I’ve obeyed the instructions to the letter. I’ve scrubbed and scrubbed in the shower, and shaved my legs and armpits, oiled them with lotion until they are completely smooth. My hair is pulled back into a high, tight bun so my face and neck are clear. I feel ritually cleansed, as though I’ve been purified before this new stage in my life.
On Wednesday, I visited a discreet doctors’ surgery in Harley Street, where, in a calm and rather luxurious environment, I was given a full check up and had blood tests taken. The results were through the same day: I have a clean bill of health.
It feels appropriate somehow, as though the tests have purified me inside as well.
On the bed, which has been stripped down to one sheet, I discover a set of black underwear has been laid out for me: it looks deceptively simple, barely there, just scraps of slippery black silk. I pull on the knickers, which are made of silk and mesh, with transparent panels going over my hips, their edges making an open diamond shape over my crotch, which is exposed. When I turn to look in the mirror I see that while my buttocks are covered, the lowest part of my curves are not, and my bottom is also accessible. The cheeks peep through, white and soft against the black. The bra is littl
e more than a set of black silk straps. The cups are shallow, made only to push and frame my breasts and not to cover them. When I’ve put it on, the effect is stunning. Slender jet-black lines run over my skin and hug my breasts, emphasising their curves and offering them up like delectable morsels.
This lingerie is certainly a cut above anything I’ve worn before, and its discreet sophistication is very sexy. There is the hint of strictness in the stark black lines, but only a hint. My eyes are drawn to the way my sex pouts through the space at the front of the knickers, and my nipples are already pink and proud. I run my hands over my stomach and breasts, shivering a little. The anticipation is already making me hot.
On the table beside the bed, I see the collar. I go over, pick it up and stare at it. This is not the studded dog collar of my imagination. It’s latex, punched with tiny holes like filigree lace, with a small latex ribbon at the front and a popping stud at the back to fasten it. I lift it up and put it around my neck.
My stomach swoops as I feel it touch my skin and the power of its symbolism hits me. This is the sign of my submission. I surrender myself when I wear it. That feeling is, to my surprise, shiveringly erotic.
Maybe this is part of my innermost self after all, I think. I press the stud so that the collar is on. It fits me snugly, prettily, like a black lace necklace.
I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s almost seven thirty. I remember my instructions. I’m dressed as I was told, so I go to the white fur rug at the front of the bed and kneel down. I feel self-conscious at first, even though I am alone. I spend the first long minutes wrapping strands of the fur rug around my finger and freezing whenever I think I hear the slightest sound. Seven thirty comes and I wait, still and anticipating, but nothing happens.
Is he late? Has he been delayed?
I don’t know whether to get up and text him to see if he’s all right, or whether I should stay where I am.
I can hear the clock ticking slowly, and I stay kneeling. Five minutes pass, then ten, and I can’t stand it any longer. I get up and go to the hallway where I’ve left my bag so that I can check my phone for any message from Dominic. No sooner have I walked on to the cool marble floor of the hall, then I hear the turn of a key in the lock. My heart thuds and a drenching feeling of fear races over me, making the palms of my hand prickle. I turn, spring back into the bedroom and am kneeling on the floor in no more than a second. I hear the front door open, and slow footsteps advance into the hall. There are long pauses, the sound of movement and footsteps but he does not come into the bedroom immediately. I am grateful for the pause, hoping that my heart rate will drop and my breathing steady before he comes in, but I can’t seem to control it. The guilt of disobedience is still flooding me, making my fingertips tremble.
What the hell is he doing? This wait is agonising!
Then the footsteps come to the bedroom door. He is standing in the doorway but I do not look up.
‘Good evening.’ His voice is deep, low and layered with power.
‘Good evening,’ I say, raising my glance only enough to see his legs. He’s wearing jeans. There’s a long pause and then I remember. ‘Sir.’
He walks towards me. ‘Have you obeyed my instructions?’
I nod. ‘Yes, sir.’ I still haven’t looked up into his face. I’m nervous of this new Dominic, a Dominic I’ve agreed to obey.
‘Have you?’ His voice is even softer now, but with unmistakeable steeliness inside the mellow tones. ‘Stand up.’
I raise myself up, aware of my naked breasts pushing up wantonly from the shallow cups of the bra, and the brazen invitation of my crotchless pants. But I also know I look beautiful and from the harsh breath that Dominic draws in, I can tell that he thinks so too. I lift my eyes to his face for the first time. He is different: still sublimely handsome, but those black eyes of his are hard and his lips have a set to them that could almost be called cruel if it weren’t for the fact that there is tenderness to them too.
‘Did you obey me?’ he says.
‘Yes sir,’ I say again, but colour floods my face. I’m lying. He must know I am. My heart is racing again, my fingertips trembling and my knees feel weak.
‘You have one more chance. Did you obey me?’
I pull in a long shaky breath. ‘No, sir. I went to the hall when you were late.’
‘Oh. I see.’ His eyes flicker with pleasure and his mouth twitches. ‘Disobedience, so early. Dear me. Well, you need to learn your lesson quickly, so we can nip this insubordination in the bud. Go to the cabinet and open the right-hand door.’
Trying to calm my breathing and the fluttering nervousness in my stomach, I go over to the polished cabinet and do as instructed. There is a wide variety of strange-looking things on the shelves.
‘Take the red rope.’
There is a coil of scarlet rope on the bottom shelf. I pick it up. It’s soft and silken in my hand, not rough as I’d imagined.
‘Bring it here.’
I take it over to Dominic. He looks strong and powerful in a black T-shirt and jeans, his hair slicked back. He doesn’t smile as he takes it from me.
‘Disobedience is very naughty, Beth,’ he breaths. He holds up one end of the rope which is sealed with scarlet wax and begins to trace it down over my body, circling each nipple with it and then running it over my belly.
Excitement clenches inside me and I feel my sex awakening and dampening. Oh God, this is hot already.
Then he turns me around. ‘Kneel by the bed post.’
I walk a few steps the bed and kneel down, wondering if he is going to hit me with the rope.
‘Put your arms around it and clasp your hands together on the other side.’
When I’ve done this, he comes forward and in moment he has bound my wrists together with a few twirls of the rope and a skilful knot. Then he runs the rest of the rope to the floor.
‘Spread your legs,’ he orders.
I do it, knowing my white cheeks are exposed, my whole bottom open to him and the pouting lips below. I know they’re already wet. I’m sure he can see the glistening traces of my arousal and that makes me even hotter and wetter. I rest my hot face on my forearm, which is tightly pressed to the bedpost, my bonds making it impossible to move.
I feel something against my sex. For a moment, I think it’s Dominic’s finger but it’s too big and thick, and it’s not hard or hot enough to be his cock. Then I realise he’s trailing the waxen end of the rope across me, letting it play in the slipperiness. The feeling is delicious.
‘Oh,’ I murmur.
‘Quiet. No noise. And no movement.’
I feel a light whip across my buttocks. It’s the silken part of the rope. It doesn’t hurt but it’s a definite expression of intent. I try to keep still.
‘Now. A little something to begin your punishment.’
He walks away from me and from the corner of my vision I see him go the cabinet. He takes something out and puts it on the bed where I can see it. It’s a large and rather beautiful glass object, smooth and slightly bent, about five inches long. When he knows that I’ve seen it, he lifts it up and comes around behind me. Suddenly, he’s kneeling close to me, I can feel the heat of his body on my back. He put his face close to my neck and runs his finger over my collar.
‘I like this,’ he whispers. ‘This is lovely. It suits you very much.’ He drops his face and kisses my neck, nipping lightly at the skin with his teeth. I want to sigh with pleasure but I remember my instructions and keep as still as I can.
Now something new is playing at my entrance, something cold and very smooth. I know it’s the glass object.
‘This is a dildo, Beth,’ he says. ‘I’m going to press it inside you. I want you to keep it there for me. Don’t let it come out.’
As he speaks, I feel the cold thing push up inside me. The sensation of being filled is delicious, the cold bringing an extra dimension to the stimulation. But it’s slippery smooth and I’m very wet. Dominic pushes it deep, holds
it there and then removes his fingers and instantly I feel a drag as the dildo begins to slip back out.
‘You naughty girl,’ he scolds as he sees it begin to emerge. ‘What did I say?’
He pushes it back up again with a firm thrust that makes me want to sigh out loud again. I clench around it, tightening my pelvic muscles, willing myself to hold it.
‘Very good. You are trying hard,’ he murmurs. ‘Now. Your arse is begging me for attention.’
His palm smoothes over my bottom, caressing the smooth surface, revelling in the transition from the silken mesh of the knickers to the soft flesh. Then suddenly he smacks down on me, not hard but with a sting. I jump and the glass dildo jumps inside me, giving me a delicious sensation of inward thrusting. Dominic rubs my cheeks again, then delivers another smack that judders through me. It doesn’t hurt so much as cause an internal shudder, and again the dildo presses upwards inside me.
Oh God.
‘Your bottom is so beautiful,’ he says in an uneven voice. He smacks me again. Oh God, I can feel it building.
I rest my face against the bedpost, my bound hands just below me. The sight of the scarlet rope around them is exciting. My breasts, eager and sensitive, press again the cold metal of the bedpost, the nipples rasping it. Below, the dildo, warm now, threatens to slide out. I pull all my muscles to stop it, and again the delicious heat throbs in my belly.
‘Oh dear, you can’t hold it for me, Beth,’ he says in a voice of playful menace. ‘I didn’t think that was so much to ask. Well, for that . . .’
He delivers three hard slaps in quick succession that send a hot glow racing from my buttocks to cover my whole body. Then he begins to run the dildo in and out of me hard. It’s a startling but delicious feeling, as I kneel before him, open, letting him fuck me with the glass toy. His other hand comes round to where my clitoris is buzzing so hard I’m wondering if I will actually come without any other stimulation, but as he begins to thrum it with his fingers, running down into my slippery depths and returning to it, hard and strong, it responds by washing strong euphoric waves of pleasure over my entire body. My legs are losing strength, I would be sliding down the post if I weren’t lashed to it, and I’m shuddering all over with the force of my building climax.
Fire After Dark Page 20