The Chaste Legacy

by Susanna Hughes

  'What's this for?' she asked, puzzled.

  'Put your hands behind your back,' he said, ignoring her question. His voice had changed. It was remote and unemotional, betraying no tenderness or any other feeling.

  The tightness of the straps he had already applied made her slightly breathless. Attached to the back of each of them were two leather cuffs. The top two were further apart than the two below them, which were further apart than the two below them, which were touching each other. As Corinda held her arms behind her back he buckled the cuffs around her upper arms, then just above her elbows and finally her wrists, making it impossible for her to move her arms in any direction.

  'What are you doing to me?' she asked.

  'It is what pleases me.'

  Just as she was going to ask why she found a leather pad being thrust between her lips, gagging her. The pad was cigar-shaped and attached to a metal ring at either end. These were connected to a leather strap that he secured behind her head.

  'Stand up,' he ordered.

  With difficulty, not having the use of her arms for balance, Corinda crawled to the edge of the bed and climbed off it.

  Dimitri studied her bound body. The straps above and below her breasts had constricted them and they had turned a light pink. He touched the right nipple lightly with the tip of a finger and saw Corinda shiver, the constriction increasing its sensitivity.

  He picked up a leather collar from the bed. Attached to the front of it was a chain leash. He buckled the collar around her neck at the back, the chain leash swinging down across her breasts. It was cold. She couldn't believe her nipples could get any harder, but the touch of the metal made then stiffen again.

  'Does it excite you, child?' Dimitri asked, aware of the frisson the chain had caused.

  She nodded. She had no idea why but the tightness of the straps excited her very much, just as the tightness of the basque had.

  'Then I have taught you something today. You have learnt your first lesson in bondage. An ancient art. For years men and women have taken pleasure in binding their slaves, in depriving them of their ability to resist whatever fate might befall them. He started to undress, kicking off his shoes and stripping off his socks. He unbuttoned his shirt. 'No one knows why many have been so attracted to the practice, but it has been documented even in the earliest civilisations.' He pulled off his shirt and undid his trousers. A large erection distended his black briefs. 'Of course it blossomed in the nineteenth century, so we are led to believe. The French and the English had bordellos with rooms devoted to increasingly complex ways of rendering a lady or gentleman completely helpless. It seems to have been a passion. Some would say a perversion, common to both sexes. It is, no doubt, a response to a profound psychological need buried in the psyche. But where and what, we shall probably never know. I have devoted many years to finding an explanation, but none of the great clinicians or psychologists I have studied have managed to explain the deep-seated significance bondage seems to play in the human sexual condition. It is, perhaps, enough merely to accept that it does and be content to enjoy its very real delights.'

  He skimmed his pants down his short legs and stepped out of them. His erection was large, out of all proportion to his rather stout body, and very smooth, the shaft almost as featureless as the glans. It was a young man's cock, more like Tim's than the others she'd seen. Corinda felt a sharp pang of lust.

  'At home,' he continued, 'I have a special room and have designed my own equipment; some of it, I dare to say, original. Perhaps you will have an opportunity to test it for yourself. But at the moment, as we are here, I will have to content myself with introducing you to more primitive means.'

  He was looking straight into her eyes. He used the knuckles of his right hand to stroke her strap-divided cheek.

  'Bend over, my child. It's time for your next lesson.'

  Dimitri's hand pressed down on the back of her neck until her head was level with the tops of her thighs and the chain leash dangled vertically from the collar. Using her hips, he guided her round until the leash was brushing one corner of the bed.

  'Perfect,' he said. He dropped to his haunches and wrapped the leash around the bedpost several times, knotting it loosely but effectively enough to prevent her from straightening up.

  He got to his feet again. She heard him opening the wardrobe door. He walked back to her. She could see his feet just behind her legs.

  'You did not lie, did you?' Something cold ran over her buttocks and down to her labia, parting them. She knew what he was referring to. She knew her sex was wet. The position she found herself in excited her.

  'The other element that has puzzled the collective mind of so many distinguished psychologists and observers of the human condition, is why so many people should be sexually excited by the idea and the fact of pain. It is, you will find, yet another leitmotif that runs through civilisation, like a golden thread woven into the complex material of life.'

  His hand gently caressed her buttocks. The touch made her flesh tingle. Whatever he had used to part her labia was sawing up and down between them.

  'The sexual enjoyment of pain, is a double-sided coin of course. It is often as enjoyable to give as to receive. Of course we are talking of a specific type of pain: pain that is administered solely for the purpose of pleasure.'

  If she had not been gagged she would have begged him to fuck her. The movement between her sex lips was making her clitoris pulse and the sexual energy this generated seemed to be magnified by her bondage. Her breasts throbbed, tightly sandwiched between the two straps. She desperately wanted to feel that smooth cock slide into her sex. Couldn't he see how wet and open she was? What was he waiting for?

  The room was silent. His hand left her buttocks and whatever had been between her legs was withdrawn. She heard him take a deep breath. Suddenly there was a swish of air, a loud thwack, and a stripe of heat seared across her naked bottom. Almost before she had time to work out what it was a second thwack followed, and in the time it took to raise his arm again, a third. The gag muffled her scream, the leash preventing her from rearing up.

  'You see,' he said quietly.

  To her astonishment the pain from the three weals turned almost instantly to something else; a type of pain certainly, but one that sent messages to her sex of an intensity and power that was almost indistinguishable from pleasure. She remembered how the blonde's body had felt as Yves wielded the whip last night, how it had responded with squirming sensuality to every stroke. She found herself moaning and wriggling her bottom from side to side.

  The second shock was even more extreme. Dimitri laid his hands on the red weals he had made, stroking them lightly. That was exquisite. Corinda had felt no pleasure like it. The hands felt cool, like balm, but at the same time they provoked renewed pangs of that peculiar pain-striated pleasure. She shuddered. She felt his finger running down between her buttocks to her labia.

  She mumbled incoherently, fighting the gag. Suddenly her body spasmed, and the heat from her buttocks become more intense. His finger slid against her clitoris, a jolt of pleasure combined with the sensations the red marks were generating and an orgasm broke over her, taking her completely by surprise. It was not like the orgasms she had experienced before. It seemed to be inextricably involved with the heat in her bottom, and provoked sharp pulses of sensation wherever the whip had landed. It was as though each of the weals had become as sensitive and as capable of sexual response as her clit.

  'You see?' Dimitri repeated, watching her body tremble.

  He drew his hand away, then pressed his cock into the cleft of her buttocks. She could feel its heat. It was throbbing. It was exactly what she had felt with Constantine and Yves; the prelude, she knew now, to ejaculation, except they had been buried inside her, while Dimitri was only rubbing against her bottom. She wriggled against her bonds, trying to push his penis down between her legs, but he held her by the hips to prevent it. Not that her movement didn't excite him further. She felt h
is cock jerking more violently, and then a trail of liquid splattered over her lower back. A second wave, with less energy, landed on her red-striped buttocks.

  Dimitri did not move for a long time. Corinda felt the semen dribbling down her buttocks and the backs of her thighs.

  'Please,' she tried to say through the gag, shaking her head to remind him she was there. The bondage was no longer exhilarating, and a cramp was developing in her shoulders.

  Eventually she felt his hands working at the buckles of the harness. He freed her arms then unbuckled the collar around her neck so the leash fell to the floor and she could straighten her back.

  Despite her orgasm, for the first time in her sexual relations with men, she felt used. None of what Dimitri had done to her was intended for her pleasure. He had bound and whipped her not to excite her, but because it was what he wanted. He had caressed her buttocks and her sex not for her satisfaction, but only to increase his. He had been careless of her needs, and the excitement she had experienced was purely incidental.

  He threw the whip on the bed. It was braided leather with a loop at its tip. She picked it up.

  'What were you saying about it being as enjoyable to give as to receive?' she asked. 'I think that should be my next lesson, don't you? Only seems fair.' Her eyes were sparkling but it was with anger not excitement.

  Dimitri had pulled on his briefs and was stepping into his trousers. 'Perhaps another time, my child. I have a boat to catch.'

  'There's plenty of time for that.' Corinda stood with her legs apart, the three leather straps still secured tightly around her body. She was determined not to let anyone treat her as Dimitri had done. She had so little experience of men she had no idea whether what had happened was common or not, but she knew enough about herself to know that no man would ever do that to her again. It was not the bondage or even the whipping, both of which had excited her in a way she would never have imagined, but the way he had ignored her needs and concentrated only on his own.

  Dimitri tried to pull his trousers up over his thighs but as he did so she pushed him in the back and he toppled onto the bed. Before he realised what was happening she pulled his feet up onto the mattress and was sitting on his shoulder. He was not used to physical exertion. Corinda, on the other hand, was young and fit, her body honed by running along the island beaches and swimming out to sea. It was not difficult for her to resist his struggles and keep him pinned to the bed.

  'Now let's see if you're right about the enjoyment.' She lashed the strap down across the meat of his fleshy buttocks. They quivered and a red weal appeared instantly. He tried to wriggle out from underneath her, but she held him firmly and delivered a second harder stroke, allowing her anger to feed through to her arm. The third blow was even more intense.

  Dimitri moaned. He stopped struggling. She raised her arm again. The whip slashed down and she heard that unique sound of leather against flesh; the thwack she had heard for the first time last night. Dimitri moaned again but his tone had changed.

  'Again,' he hissed, his face buried in the black sheet. 'Again. Do it again...'

  Corinda did not hesitate. She swept the leather down a fifth time, and then a sixth for good measure, crisscrossing his buttocks with bright red stripes and little scarlet bruises where the tip bit into his soft white flesh. Then she threw the whip on the floor and pulled herself off him.

  Dimitri rolled over. He was grinning, his cock erect again. On the black sheet where he had been lying was a gooey white puddle.

  'It seems the experiment was a success,' he said.

  Corinda could not sleep. At first she'd fallen asleep with ease, exhausted by the conflicting emotions of the day. But she woke again after no more than an hour, and lay in bed in the dark unable to doze off again. Her mind was racing, trying to digest everything that had happened, her many worries crowding in on her.

  She was worried about Tim most of all. Constantine obviously knew the waters around his island, and she was desperate to believe him when he reassured her Tim would be all right. But she had begun to have her doubts. The thought that Tim was dead, that she would never see him again, made her break out in a cold sweat. Of the men she had met in the last few days none compared to Tim. Constantine had been kind to her, and Yves was handsome in his way, but neither had given her the same sort of emotional charge she had felt for Tim. From the books she had read, and from the classics of English literature, she gained the impression that sexual satisfaction went hand in hand with sexual attraction. But with the experience she had gained over the last few days she had begun to realise that sex and sexual attraction were two different things. She could have one without the other. She had not been attracted to Constantine at all, but had found the things he did to her sexually overwhelming. Yves was more attractive and certainly gave her a wonderful feeling of sexual fulfilment, but he was not a man she would have chosen for herself. Tim, on the other hand, was very much to her taste, and she regretted that they had not been able to consummate their sexual encounter. She was not sentimental but she did regret he had not been the man to take her virginity.

  Thoughts about him led to thoughts about Arabella. She knew she would be worried sick and she missed her terribly. She was so grateful to her for introducing her to the joys of sex, though she realised it was probably in contravention of her father's wishes. She had felt innocent and gauche in Constantine's hands, but would have been that much more so if she'd not gained some experience with Arabella.

  But it was getting off the island that preoccupied her thoughts the most. She had not seen Constantine again yesterday, so she did not know whether his agent in Athens had any more news. But she couldn't help dwelling on the conversation she had overhead between Yves and Eloisa. She couldn't get it out of her head, however absurd the idea, that the price Yves had mentioned was something to do with her. And then there was the remark Dimitri had made. It stuck in her mind too. When he'd been talking about whether she'd have the opportunity to test his specially equipped bondage room, he'd said that was what he had come for. What on earth did that mean? She had thought he'd come to the island on business.

  Why, also, was she kept locked in her room? Yesterday, after she'd left Dimitri, was the first time she'd been unaccompanied in the house. She found her way back to her room and discovered the switch that operated the metal shutter. But some automatic mechanism closed it the moment she stepped inside. She wished now she had taken the opportunity to explore the strange windowless house. She was sure it held secrets she could not even guess at. That was the only reason for her virtual imprisonment. Surely Constantine could not really believe she would let light in, even accidentally?

  All these thoughts rolled around in her head, coming and going, one worry replaced by the next, until eventually she drifted back into an uneasy sleep.

  It seemed only minutes later that the shutters woke her and Eloisa strode into her room. She was dressed in skin-tight cream leather trousers and an equally tight matching leather halter that left her back bare. As usual she wore high heels, though this time they were white leather boots.

  'Constantine wants you to have breakfast with him,' she said.

  That was a new development. Up until now breakfast had always been served in her room. 'Do I have time for a shower?'

  'I'll come back in five minutes.'

  'No, stay. There are some things I'd like to ask you.' Corinda got up from the bed and went into the bathroom. She used the toilet, cleaned her teeth, then climbed into the shower. This was a good opportunity to ask some direct questions.

  'Is something bothering you?' Eloisa asked, standing in the bathroom doorway.

  'I don't know what's happening. What were you and Yves talking about the other day?' Corinda asked, wrapping herself in a towel as she stepped out of the shower.

  'I thought you were asleep.'

  'No, I heard.'

  'It was just business. Constantine's business.'

  'What sort of business?' Corinda rubbed
her legs dry.

  'Yves buys and sells like Constantine. He is bidding for a piece of merchandise Constantine has acquired,' Eloisa said quickly.

  'What merchandise?'

  'A sculpture,' she lied. 'An Egyptian head. It's not really legal, I guess. It should never have been taken out of Egypt. It's very valuable.'

  'And Dimitri?' Corinda rubbed her breasts dry and discarded the towel. She applied some eye-liner.

  'What about Dimitri?'

  'He seemed to think I might be going to visit him.'

  'Visit him? What do you mean?'

  'He said that was what he'd come to arrange.'

  'You must have misunderstood. Dimitri is here for the same piece as Yves. They're rival collectors. Perhaps he was just hoping you'd agree to go and see him some time when you're back in London. He has an apartment there. He's very impressed with you.'

  Corinda looked into Eloisa's eyes to see if she could find the truth there. But she could not. She turned to the mirror and applied a little eye-shadow, a touch of blusher and a coat of red lipstick, then walked passed Eloisa into the bedroom. 'What shall I wear?'

  'Something light.'

  She took a pretty blue shift from the rail in the wardrobe and dropped it over her head. She shook out her long blonde hair then brushed it. There were some dark blue high heels which complemented the outfit. 'Ready.'

  'Right. Let's go.'

  The shutter started to roll up. Previously Corinda had taken no notice but now she wondered how Eloisa had operated it when there was no switch to be seen anywhere in the room.

  Constantine was sitting at the table on the terrace in the conservatory, giving the impression he was basking in the bright sun. He got to his feet as soon as the two women approached.