The sight of her draped over his powerful thighs was quite mouthwatering and I shifted in my seat, gorging on the scene. Her red, shiny buttocks were raised high and the Captain lowered his head for a good long look at them before getting to work with the paddle.
I flicked my eyes down the row to Trix, who was leaning forward in her seat, her eyes shining.
Rosie and Dimitri, I noticed, were snogging drunkenly, each with one eye on the screen. It was working for them. Was it working for Jasper?
His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He looked absolutely intent on the action, but it was not clear whether his interest was professional or perverse. Probably both.
I touched his hand, lightly, and he turned to offer me a brief smile, but then focused again on the screen.
The Captain paddled Trix with a will. I knew from experience that those wooden bastards weren’t easy to take, but her experience stood her in good stead and, though she cried out a good deal, it was clear that she hadn’t reached her limits. Her gasping and struggling were more arousing to me than the smack–smack–smack of the paddle and the worsening condition of her bottom. Our favourite role plays usually involved non-consensual scenarios and this one was so well performed that it made me feel as if I were participating myself.
‘Not broken yet?’ cried the pirate captain, throwing aside the paddle. ‘By God, you’re a feisty one. But I’ll have you begging me for mercy yet.’
The thought that Trix was in for yet more of this treatment almost made me want to march into shot and tell the Captain how unreasonable he was being. Mainly because it would probably earn me a spanking at his rather glamorous hand.
Preece stepped forward and dragged Trix off the Captain’s lap. He bent her over the desk again and, rather to my surprise, began rubbing some kind of ointment into her buttocks. Trix’s moans of pleasure were very convincing indeed.
‘Think he’s doing it out of kindness, do yer?’
The Captain’s tone was mocking and, when I looked at him, I saw that he was selecting a crook-handled cane from a variety of weapons hanging on the wall.
‘I’m going to give you a taste of something I experienced at school,’ he continued. ‘Yes, it might surprise you to know that I went to one of the best public schools in England. Didn’t learn a thing, mind you, except how to avoid getting under one of these.’ He swished the cane through the air. ‘Believe you me, it stings like the devil. And you’re going to feel it. Leave her be now, Preece.’
Preece stepped back. A close-up of Trix’s bottom revealed it as gleaming with the greasy ointment, though the bright redness conferred by her earlier punishments remained.
‘Now,’ said the Captain, lining up the rod across her cheeks. ‘I wonder how many strokes it’ll take. What’s your bet, Preece?’
‘Three,’ hazarded the sailor.
‘Oh, more than that, I hope,’ said the Captain. ‘Go to the other side of the desk and hold her hands. I want her kept down. No dancing or leaping about. I don’t want any of my strokes to land badly.’
‘Yes, Captain.’
Preece took up his post, gripping Trix’s wrists tightly.
She stared down into the wood, perfectly positioned.
I held my breath for her.
The first stroke whipped down and she howled. I was greedy to see its effect, to watch the dark line rise against her glowing skin. This was always my favourite part of the private films Jasper and I made. It was more pleasurable to watch than to feel, if I was honest.
‘That’s more like it, eh, wench?’ said the Captain smugly. ‘Now we’re on to serious business. How many more of those before you’re ready to play nicely?’
‘Go to hell,’ she managed to say.
The second stroke followed swiftly.
I flinched at each one, but at the same time my clit seemed to swell a little. I could feel it pressing against the material of my knickers. I wanted to wriggle, to increase the pressure, but I sensed that Jasper might disapprove. And besides, we were not alone. So I had to endure my increasing arousal without relief.
‘What’s the highest number of strokes you’ve taken in any one session?’ asked Jasper of Trix, his voice thickened in a way I recognised.
‘Forty-two,’ she said. ‘A double caning – one top either side of my bottom.’ She almost purred in reminiscence. ‘I’m always looking for a chance to go further.’
‘I’m surprised the marks even show any more,’ said Jasper.
‘I have to leave a good long while between scenes now,’ she said regretfully. ‘Otherwise my hide just gets too tough.’
‘Doesn’t look it here,’ he said.
She had eight dark-red stripes across her bottom now, and it looked as if more were in the offing. The Captain’s caning arm didn’t tire easily.
‘Have you ever safeworded?’ I asked, wondering if perhaps she was some kind of superhuman with the power to take indefinite spankings.
‘Oh, yes. Not so much these days. But I used to, all the time. I didn’t really understand my limits and I’m afraid I used to brag a lot about how much I could take. I disappointed more than one dom. But I’ve learned my lesson there now.’
She seemed to have done so in the film too, for her character suddenly broke into sobs and begged for mercy. It had been eleven strokes.
The Captain, the swine, laid on a twelfth regardless, then put down his cane.
The film ended with her on her knees at his feet, a close-up of her ravaged bottom underneath the credits.
‘Well?’ said Trix.
Dimitri and Rosie were in no mood to offer a review, apparently, being joined at the mouth with hands in various unmentionable places.
‘I thought that was very well done,’ said Jasper. ‘Much higher production values than I usually see in these things. Good camera work, nice costumes and I like the set-up too. I’d like to meet your friends, I think.’
‘Oh, they’d be thrilled! We’ll have to meet for coffee at Kinky Cupcake.’
‘Yes, we will. Perhaps I could offer some free consultancy. Maybe direct a little piece for them.’
Trix was ecstatic and I smiled at her excitement, through the agony of my unassuaged horniness.
‘In the meantime,’ he said, looking at Rosie and Dimitri, ‘I think we could all do with a little lie-down.’
I could have wept with relief.
After Rosie and Dimitri had staggered safely into their room, and Trix had opted to spend some time reading in the library, I finally had Jasper to myself.
‘Do you wish I had her endurance?’ I asked, perching on the end of our four-poster.
‘Not at all,’ he said.
He had opened his toy chest. That was a good sign.
‘It wouldn’t be much fun if it didn’t hurt you, would it?’ He twisted his head round to grin wickedly at me. My clit couldn’t take any more. My thighs trembled.
‘I want you to cane me,’ I said suddenly.
‘I can do that for you,’ he said, rummaging. I could hear the smile in his voice.
‘Until I safeword,’ I clarified.
This was reckless, and I knew it, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
He turned around, cane in hand, and sat with his back to the chest. He looked a little anxious and my heart expanded at a painful rate.
‘Really?’ he said.
‘I want to know how it feels. I want to know where it is. My limit, I mean.’
‘Sarah, it’s more than a physical limit, you know. Much as I love to hurt you in other places, I don’t want to hurt you here.’ He put a hand on his heart.
‘You won’t. I trust you. I know you’ll stop when I ask you to.’
He got up, came to sit beside me and took my hands in his. The cane lay behind us on the duvet.
‘Yes, of course. But I have to trust you, too. Not to be foolish and to go further than you really should, out of some silly idea of making me proud of how much you can take. So if you can promise me, solemnly, tha
t you won’t do that …’
His perfect reading of the situation brought tears to my eyes. I was so lucky to have found him.
‘Ah,’ he said gently, sliding a finger under my eyes to catch the drips. ‘Look. Trix, and what she can do, and what she can take, is totally irrelevant to us, OK? I don’t care if you run away screaming after one stroke. You can’t disappoint me, because I love you. You do understand that, don’t you?’
I nodded, sniffing. ‘I do. God, I really love you.’
‘I know. Now, tell me what you want, and be truthful this time.’
‘I want you to do what you want with me. I really do.’
‘Right. Well. In that case.’ He kissed my cheeks and then my lips. ‘You’d better get your kit off, my girl.’
My wobble of insecurity passed like a cloud on a brisk spring day. Sunshine again. Sunshine and sex.
Moments later, I was naked and bent over a buttoned plush footstool. Jasper, still clothed and with cane in hand, paced up and down in front of me.
‘You should be careful what you wish for, Sarah,’ he said. ‘You asked for a caning, and that film has put me in the mood to deliver one. So I’m giving you six of the best. And believe me, they will be the very best. You may well come close to your limits, or even crash right up against them. And if you do, you will let me know. Is that quite clear? Because if you don’t … and this isn’t a threat I’d make lightly … I won’t spank you again for months. Perhaps years. And then what would my poor Sarah do? Imagine the frustration.’
‘I’d rather not,’ I quavered.
‘No warm-up,’ he said. ‘It will hurt.’
‘I know.’
‘You know. You’re a brave girl. I’m always proud of you. Nothing will change that. Now, are you ready?’
I nodded and clenched my fists. But everything seemed so complicated. This had turned into a test. If I took all six, did I pass? Or was he hoping I’d safeword, to prove I wasn’t trying too hard? Which was the right answer? It was too difficult.
But one thing wasn’t difficult. My clear, urgent, straightforward arousal.
I decided I would go with that. I would let it take me where it wanted to go.
Jasper enjoyed himself with the usual swishing and tapping and lining up, letting each little gesture of terrorism sink in before moving on to the next.
My stomach was all butterflies, but my pussy throbbed with need. The need to be beaten, to be taken and owned and proven his.
Yes, the first stroke was pure agony and my cries might well have reached the ears of our guests. But the aftermath, as ever, made it all worthwhile and I breathed through the sting, feeling the fierce bar of heat rising on my skin, embracing it.
‘What do you say?’ said Jasper lightly, running the cane tip along the stripe.
This was a trick question. Safeword? Or …
‘Thank you, sir,’ I muttered, and he sighed with pleasure.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Let’s try that again.’
I felt stronger now. I knew that I had tasted the worst and this would, at least, not hurt more than that. It was only six. Only six.
Trix could take forty-two!
Stop thinking about Trix, you idiot.
The second stroke jolted me close to the line. I knew I hated the cane. Why had I asked for it? What the hell was wrong with me?
I let out a low moan and curled up my toes while the shock flared through me.
But I could take it. I wanted to see the six raised welts in the mirror. I wanted to feel the burning heat while he fucked me afterwards.
I wanted it.
‘Thank you, sir.’
The pain wrapped itself around me like an embrace. I allowed it to take me through three, four and five. I was winning. But Jasper was not my competitor; he was my team-mate. We strove together against everything that wasn’t us, everyone that found us disgusting or unnatural or pathetic. Together, we could hold out for ever.
‘Are you ready?’ he said softly, preparing for his final stroke.
‘Bring it on, sir.’
He laughed. He brought it on, and then some. I yowled like a stunned cat while the white bolt of pain coursed through me. But the cry was also one of triumph. I was bloodied (not literally, of course) but unbowed, beaten but unbeaten.
He put his hand on my shoulder, and I shuddered beneath it, letting the shock travel through and out of my system. Once I was still, he bent to my ear.
‘Six more?’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Good girl.’
Fabric rumpled and tickled the back of my thighs, then my calves. Jasper’s trousers were coming down, his belt buckle jingling all the way.
My pussy was more than wet enough for him to push inside without resistance. I accepted him with gratitude, delighting in the thickness and fullness of the sensation. I pushed back, wanting my burning bottom to press against his skin so he’d feel the heat too, and I’d experience the divine agony of friction.
My heat joined us in another way. We had more points of connection, visible and invisible, than I could count. We were an entity, Jasper and I, an interlocking pair of halves.
Every other element of our surroundings whited out of my consciousness. Now I was aware of nothing but him in me, his skin pressing and sticking and peeling away from mine, his hands on my shoulders, then on my breasts, his fingers scissoring my nipples. It was as if we couldn’t get things hot enough, as if we needed to strike and strike the spark, to build the fire to a height previously unimagined.
My legs ached, then turned to jelly. He bit my neck and I moaned with pleasure as he sucked at it. The velvet of the stool prickled my pubis and rubbed now and then against my clit as Jasper thrust.
I remembered, just in time.
‘Please, sir, may I come?’
‘Uh huh’ was his grunted answer, showing me that he was as close as I was.
We were close together. I wanted to wait for him, but my body was ahead of me and I tumbled headlong into my orgasm.
I was a blur, crumpled into the footstool, when he followed me, keeping me sentient somehow within the frame of his limbs.
We both fell away and rolled on to the floor, ending up in each other’s arms. Our skin was slippery and my eyes stung with sweat. My bottom hurt, but I didn’t care. I liked it.
‘I love you,’ I said.
‘Because you were made for me,’ he said. ‘Let’s get married.’
It wasn’t the first time he’d broached the subject. It had come up two weeks earlier, when we visited his mother. I wanted him. I wanted to be with him always.
So why was I so scared suddenly?
‘I’m too young to get married,’ I said.
‘No, you aren’t. You can marry at sixteen, not that I’d recommend it. Come on, Sarah, why not really?’
I didn’t know. I lay on my side with my cheek pressed into the Turkish rug, staring at the mahogany chest of toys. This was my happy place. Why did he have to bring the onus of decision-making here?
That was my answer.
‘I don’t like making decisions,’ I said. ‘They feel so final. I don’t like things to be final. I like things to be open.’
‘So, like I said,’ said Jasper, sitting up, his tone a little hostile, ‘you’re commitment-phobic.’
‘Yes, I am,’ I admitted. ‘When I had to choose my A-Level subjects, it nearly killed me. I wanted to do them all. What if I was cutting off my options for a future I’d really love? What if I decided I wanted to live in Germany, after ditching German? How did I know what was going to work out and what might be a mistake? How do people ever know these things? I was in a panic for months. I’m still in a panic about it now. Am I doing the right thing? I love history, but should I really have gone for English? Have I ruined my chances of pursuing the future I should really have, by taking this particular path? God, Jasper. I know it sounds lame. I do love you and I know you’re the right man for me but …’ I knelt up, sitting not being a
viable option just then, and wrung my hands.
‘But what? You’re wondering, what if you met someone else and wanted them more?’
He sounded desperately hurt. I grabbed his arm and gazed into his eyes, willing him to understand me.
‘I’m wondering if settling down, right now, at my age, is the right thing to do,’ I said.
‘Love, we never know these things,’ he said. ‘The best we can do is try to make the right decision based on everything we know at the time. Sometimes we succeed, sometimes we fail. But times come, and will keep on coming, when decisions have to be made. You have to choose. Yes or no. Is a life with me what you want? Yes or no. Maybe isn’t going to be enough for me any more, Sarah. So I’m asking you straight. Yes or no?’
Tears rushed to my eyes.
‘Yes, of course, it’s yes, but …’
‘But what?’
‘I don’t know.’
Jasper got to his feet and pulled on his pants and trousers. He walked over to the bedroom door and opened it.
‘Where are you going?’ I asked, almost incoherent with fear and self-doubt.
‘To make some more decisions,’ he said. ‘I seem to be in the mood for them. When you finally make yours, let me know.’
He shut the door behind him.
I collapsed to the floor and wept, feeling the close embrace of my collar with every hectic sob.
Chapter Six
I don’t know how long I lay on the floor, but it was dark outside when I got up and slipped an easy jumper dress over my head. I left off any underwear, still feeling too sore, but put on a pair of black hold-up stockings to give the illusion of it.
I was going to have to face the world. We had guests, after all.
I put industrial amounts of concealer cream under my eyes, tied back my hair and painted on a lipstick smile.
In the drawing room, my eye was drawn to Dimitri, who stood by the drinks cabinet making cocktails for everyone. How could he? He must have the constitution of an all-in wrestler, after all that wine he’d drunk earlier.
‘Ah, Sarah,’ he said, rattling some ice. ‘I make for everybody some White Russian cocktails. You like this?’
‘I’m not sure I’ve ever had one.’
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