by Flora Dain
Why?
Soon the path grows steeper and I start to hear a dull, roaring noise. It’s getting steadily louder. A generator of some kind?
I stop to get my breath. “How much farther?”
“Nearly there. It’s a terrific spot. You’ll see.”
At last he sets down his bag, takes out his bulky camera and starts to screw on a lens.
Now I see I’m truly honored. He’s brought an early handheld camera, his beloved Éclair Cameflex, the French classic.
He holds it up proudly. “Look at that. What a beaut. You’d never guess it dates from the forties. If it was good enough for Orson Welles it’s good enough for me.”
I roll my eyes. Boys and toys. If Mel were here she’d tell him to shut up. I’m too soft on him.
Instead, I give him a wry smile. “So where’s this view?” The noise is loud now, a dull roar. I see only trees.
“Right here.” He steers me firmly down a short flight of wooden steps, through a wall of shrubs then gives me a sharp push so I stumble forward. “Now turn to face me.”
I freeze.
I try to scream but nothing happens.
I seem to be suspended in space. In fact, I’m swinging on a narrow footbridge, a few feet away from a wall of solid rock with only rope rails between me and—nothing.
About fifty feet away I see a tall column of cascading water. That’s what’s making the noise. At the foot of the gorge, some hundred feet below me, an angry, frothing stream boils and swirls, flecked with foam as it snakes away from under my feet.
He’s right. It’s spectacular. To most people, it might even be beautiful.
But to me it’s sheer terror, my worst nightmare.
I hate heights. He knows this.
Views are fine. I’m okay if there’s a window or a barrier. But here there’s just…rope.
I wheel round, my throat too tight even to cry out. At last I find a rasping, husky imitation of sound. “Jake, no. Get me off this.”
Behind his camera, Jake’s making soothing noises. “Brilliant. You look terrified. Again.”
At that minute shadows erupt from the trees and figures race toward the footbridge. One lunges at Jake from the side in a full body tackle. Both men land in an untidy heap.
Another strides calmly onto the bridge toward me. Cade. He gathers me into his arms and pushes my head down against his chest. “Don’t look.”
The whole thing takes barely seconds. I bury my face against him and his heart beats close to my ear. Dimly I hear a scuffle on the path.
“Get rid of his camera.” Cade’s command reaches me through his chest. A muffled shout from Jake tells me the camera’s being wrestled from his grasp. There’s a long pause then a distant crash.
“Now drive him back. We’ll walk.” Cade’s voice echoes through his ribcage. He keeps my head pressed close against him.
From the muffled depths of Cade’s tight embrace, I can hear Jake shouting.
“Get your fucking hands off me. That camera was a fucking antique, you moron.”
Then his protests grow faint. After a moment I hear car doors slam, an engine start up then silence. Just the roar of the water.
Cade releases me and takes my face in his hands. “Look at me. Do you trust me, Tunis?” He holds me with a look of steel.
I take a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Good. Now let’s get you off this bridge.”
Steadily, keeping his hands firmly on my face, he draws me back onto the path. Quickly he puts an arm around me and leads me up some steps to a car park with lookout points, telescopes and wooden benches.
We sit down on the nearest.
My breathing steadies but I still feel sick. Now that I’m out of danger, questions bubble up. “How did you get here so fast?”
He looks grim, his jaw rigid with suppressed fury. “Security spotted you. They told me you were heading for the gorge so I came after you. Lucky I did.” He sounds gruff.
It dawns on me he’s angry with me. So this is my fault?
He glares at me. “You were supposed to tell me. What were you doing in the woods?”
“Jake and Ben wanted shots of me looking scared.”
His eyes blazed. “Looking what? Why?”
I swallow. “They thought the footage of us meeting yesterday wasn’t strong enough.” I sigh. “I don’t know. Ask them.”
“I will. I’ve seen the rushes. They looked fine to me.” He sounds grim. “I did some checks. You’ve got a thing about heights. You had an accident on stage.”
He knows? “Yes.” I tense. “My fiancé and I were rehearsing for Romeo and Juliet. The balcony collapsed and I broke my foot.” I allow myself a small, bitter smile. “So I lost the part then he broke off our engagement.” My smile fades. “So I lost him too.”
It used to hurt. Now it’s sort of scarred over. I rarely talk about it, but I keep the phrase ready to roll off pat, just in case.
“And Simmons knows?”
“Yes.” I swallow. Please drop this.
His jaw clenches briefly. “He tried to scare you witless for a photo?”
“He’s a genius.” From long habit, I spring to Jake’s defense. “And he loved that camera.”
“He’ll get a replacement.” Cade jabs at his phone and starts to issue a stream of instructions, his voice low and angry. “I want Simmons in my office now. I’ll be back in ten.”
He slips the phone back in his pocket, his mouth set and grim. “From now on you stay away from him.”
I feel a spike of indignation. “That’s unfair. He meant no harm. He gets—carried away.”
Cade turns on me, his eyes blazing. “You don’t get it, do you? We have an agreement. From today, you belong to me and I have a duty of care. I want to know whom you see, where you go and what you do. I don’t trust him. You could have been killed.”
He rises to his feet and looks at his watch. “We’d better get back. And as soon as we do you’re scheduled for four hours in the spa, lunch included.”
As I rise shakily to my feet I shiver.
Instantly he draws me into his arms, his eyes full of concern. “You’ve had a terrible shock. In the spa, try to relax. That’s an order.” He smiles but his eyes look worried.
Like a cloud passing away from the sun his mood changes in a second. He kisses my forehead. “I want you fit and rested for tonight.”
Tonight. I feel a surge of heat so intense that I feel giddy.
His eyes cloud again. “What’s the matter?”
I touch my cheek briefly to his. “Nothing. Excitement, that’s all.”
He leads me back along the path, holding me firmly by the hand. We talk little but as we emerge from the woods and cross the lawn, I feel I’ve known him forever.
Every look, every touch, sparks heat.
Once, where the path plunges into a dip in the trees, he pushes me up against a trunk and fastens his mouth on mine with a passion so intense, so sudden that my knees grow weak. As he explores me with his hands I respond, high on adrenaline, willing him to take me, control me, to dowse this furnace deep between my legs.
From his jagged breathing I know he feels it too. But he’s mindful of security, wary of prying eyes. He pulls away, strokes my face gently and touches his lips to my eyelids and the tip of my nose.
“Later. Be patient.”
Chapter Five
“At the start of a session, you kneel.”
It’s early evening and we’re in Cade’s apartment. It has spectacular views all over the park and it just doubled in size. With the communicating door thrown open, our suites become one vast complex.
I’m nervous. I’ve been nervous all afternoon, comforted only by a delicious lunch and a couple of hours of prime pampering in the spa. Now I’m standing before him in practice pose, as relaxed as my nerves and my excitement allow.
As instructed, I’m freshly showered and wearing slinky lingerie, stockings and high heels.
Cade, by contrast, is fully dressed in b
lack jeans, loafers and a crisp white shirt, the cuffs loosened and folded back. He’s reclining on a stylish leather sofa and looks stunning, like a male model between shoots. His legs are crossed, one ankle leaning casually on his knee.
He’s flexing a slender cane.
The sight of it sends a shiver through me. But I’ve done my homework. I’ve got rights, even here.
Or have I? This is a verbal agreement, my reputation staked against his. It’s a dangerous game—more like cold war.
And that’s before we get to the caning part.
The air between us crackles with static. Every word, every move, is somehow charged with meaning, building the tension.
“And you call me Sir. It keeps a proper distance between us and helps the role-play. Creates respect and a feel for discipline. So kneel.”
I do it, eyeing him warily. The breathtaking classical statue facing me is subtly different from the knight errant who rode to my rescue earlier this afternoon. He’s darker, more severe, and looking at me like I’m his favorite meal.
And he’s got a cane.
He rises, lithe as a cat, and walks slowly toward me, his gaze dark and penetrating. “Lose the bra.”
Hurriedly I let it slip to the floor. With a twitch of the cane, he flicks it away.
I wince as the cane springs back. He touches the tip of it to one nipple then moves across to the other, drawing it slowly up between my breasts, along my throat and finally presses the point under my chin, forcing me to look up.
“We’ll aim for two sessions a day, one in the afternoon or evening and one at night. Each session will last up to two hours. Is that acceptable?”
How do I know? I’m new at this. My only guide is the slow burn of arousal deep between my legs as my dream slowly morphs into reality. “Yes, Sir.”
He, too, seems troubled, his breathing steady but noticeable. It surprises me.
“You must tell me when it gets too intense. I don’t normally handle vanillas.”
I close my eyes briefly as I begin to pulse.
When. He said when it gets too intense. Not if, or it might…
The cane swishes again and he’s squatting in front of me, his face close to mine, his arms resting on his knees, his hands together. The cane trembles between us, balanced lightly in his fingers.
The end of it quivers a little.
“You flinched just then. That scares you, Tunis? Tell me.”
My mouth’s gone dry. “Everything about this scares me.”
His face darkens.
The upward snap on my left breast is light but so sudden I jump.
“Scares you…what?”
My eyes widen.
He’s hit me. With a cane.
It was barely a tap, but the fact of it rockets round my brain like a thunderbolt.
This is really happening.
My thoughts race. “It scares me…Sir.”
He smiles slowly. “Sure it does. Fear is part of the fun. Stimulates the senses, intensifies the pleasure. Being scared of the dark makes you like ghost stories. Being scared of pain makes you like this. You’ll learn to manage it through ritual. And a simple way to start is to mind your manners. You just earned your second punishment, by the way.”
“Second?” I feel a tremor go through me.
He arches an eyebrow. “You forgot to tell me you were going walkabout with your photographer friend today. I missed an important deal while I took time out to track you down and play Superman. It cost me upward of a million dollars. That earned you the first, so we’ll do it now.”
He rises to his feet and stands over me. “Keep your head down and your eyes on the floor until I tell you to move.” He walks back to the sofa. I hear him sit.
“Now crawl over to me on all fours. Keep your eyes on my face.”
Slowly I move toward him. Instead of shame, I feel rising anger. And at the same time this simple, primitive movement of my limbs is giving me a strange, feral power. As I reach him, I sense something new, something entirely unexpected.
This feels hot.
The gleam in his eyes tells me he knows.
He pats his knee. “Now climb up here and bend over. Legs straight, ass in the air.”
He takes some time to get me into position. His touch is light, warm and thrilling. The thought of the cane, now lying across the cushion next to him, makes my stomach shrink. “What are you going to do?”
He runs his hands over my bottom and between my thighs, sighing deeply. “Wow. You’re like peaches, Tunis. I’m going to spank you. Not with the cane this time. Maybe just a couple of taps at the end. We’ll see. Ready?”
Without waiting for an answer, he eases one leg from underneath me and traps me with it, pinning me down, and at the same moment leans on my back with his elbow, forcing my shoulders down into the seat.
He fondles me again then his hand lands with a loud crack. I shriek, startled, as the sting fades to a hot glow. His hand lands again, this time lower down. With a supreme effort, I steel myself against the impact and grit my teeth as the blows rain down, again and again.
Once the initial shock wears off, the stings become simple flashes of heat and join up into a continuous, white-hot blaze. After a while he pauses. I feel like I’m on fire.
“How is it?”
What? “You expect analysis…Sir?”
I hear his breath hiss through his teeth. “Do I detect defiance? For that, you’ll definitely get the cane.”
He removes his leg, freeing my trapped knees, and pushes me roughly off his lap. He stands up, catching me as I slide sideways and he hauls me up at the hips.
“Put your fingertips on the floor and balance on your toes. Spread your legs wider.”
My dancer’s instinct arches me into position, but it’s a tricky one to do well.
“Hold still.”
He sounds angry. The thought sends a spiral of fear down to my toes, but not in time to prepare for the instant sting from a single swish of the cane as it lands across both cheeks of my fiery bottom. As I haul in a lungful of air to protest, it lands again at a different angle.
“The two promised strokes. Now maybe you’ll think twice before answering back. Hold the position.”
My legs tremble as I hold the pose, delayed reaction draining my muscles of strength. His hand once more sensuous and tender, he massages my burning backside with a gentle, loving caress. A sob wells in my throat as he leans over me and breathes close to my ear.
“You’re so beautiful like this. You can have no idea.” His fingers slide between my legs and explore my softest places, now swollen and slick with lust. I feel a trickle of moisture down the inside of my thigh as he lingers, his hand easing deep inside me.
“You’re very close. You took that well, for your first time. Would you like a reward?”
How can I answer that? My throat’s too full to speak.
My legs are stretched into an impossible position, my bottom is on fire, and to cap it all I feel—I know—that any second I’m going to explode in an orgasm. If he moves his fingers into me just once more…
He laughs quietly and his fingers move again. I give a shriek as I convulse in a shattering climax. It throws me off balance and I crash to the floor in a heap of spent, quivering limbs and burst into angry, emotional sobs.
Instantly he’s on his knees beside me, gathering me up into his arms. “Tunis. I’m so sorry. We went too far. Hush. Don’t cry, please, baby.”
As my spasms die away, I lean against him, still trembling and fight for control. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. It’s just… It’s been so long…” I bury my face in his chest as tears well up again, and he strokes my hair, murmuring something I can’t quite hear.
After a moment or two, I pull away and wipe my nose on the back of my hand. “I’m okay. Sir.”
He eyes me for a moment in silence. “That’s for me to decide.” He touches my face, his fingers surprisingly gentle. “And you should come more often. Maybe we’ll work on tha
t. Kneel again, hands behind your back.”
Avoiding his eye, I assemble my limbs into a kneeling position. It’s easier now. Amazingly, the sting on my bottom is already fading into bearable heat and my climax has left me glowing with content.
I smile up at him. Is this allowed?
I hardly care. I feel on top of the world, like I’ve just won a race. “Is that why you agreed to this? Simply to humiliate me? Aren’t there easier and more public ways to do it? Sir?”
His eyes narrow. His tenderness vanishes and his face grows stern. “Plenty of ways. It’s easy to humiliate a public figure like you. You might even enjoy it. Shame can be part of the thrill, as you just found out.”
He touches my face, his hand cupping my jaw. His thumb moves gently along my lower lip. “I like to see you like that. It gives me unimaginable pleasure to do that to you. I knew it would. But that’s not why I agreed to do this.”
I stare at him. “No? Then why did you?”
He frowns. “That night you were caught on camera… You reacted so strongly that I wondered if it was really from distaste or if it was from something else.”
“What do you mean?”
He leans closer, his lips almost touching my face. His breath feels hot on my skin. “I’m not sure, but I’m beginning to think…”
The rest of his thought is lost as he fastens his mouth on mine and claims me in a long, urgent kiss, forcing my head back and filling my mouth with his tongue. I react instantly, my own need building again as I respond to his, signals flaring all through my muscles, inflaming the glow from my tormented rear and fusing into hot, naked greed.
As he pulls away, he gazes into my eyes with a strange expression, like he’s discovered something unexpected. He springs to his feet and helps me up, his breathing ragged.
Once again he’s distant, severe. “That’ll do for our first session. We’ll join the others now and meet up again later. And don’t forget… No one must know. If anyone so much as hints they’ve guessed about us, you and your friends are out on the street.”
* * * *
As we dress for the evening, I can’t shake off the feeling that he’s watching me. He says little, striding about while he takes his calls, his look both intimate and arousing. Twice I drop my hairbrush under his steady gaze. I blush when I fumble with the zipper on my gown. Quietly he fastens it for me, his fingers lingering around my shoulders.