Her World of Submission

by Justine Elyot

  ‘You will love it,’ he proclaimed. ‘Tell her, Rosie.’

  ‘You will,’ endorsed Rosie from one of the window seats. ‘It’s gorgeous.’

  My eye roved about the corners of the room, seeking Jasper. He was sitting on a chaise he rarely used, talking to Trix. He seemed to pretend he hadn’t noticed me come in and I felt a drop in my stomach.

  ‘So, we have five glasses,’ said Dimitri, lining them all up like a juggler about to start a cup and dice trick. ‘And first, we need ice.’

  He began shaking ice into each glass and he was so fascinating to watch that I forgot about keeping an eye on Jasper. He should have been a cocktail waiter in one of those fancy bars where the performance is half of the drinking experience. He made his concoctions with such a repertoire of flourishes and hair tosses and bows, garnished with a constant patter of droll, sexy-accented anecdotes, that I almost saw him as Rosie must do. An impulse of awful, treacherous desire shocked me into looking away.

  How could I be thinking of another man, when I had Jasper?

  Dimitri ended his act and handed out the glasses, to applause from me and Rosie, his captive, slightly swooning audience.

  ‘Will you sit down, Sarah?’ he asked in a courtly manner, indicating a space beside him and Rosie on the big couch at the back of the room.

  ‘Better not,’ I said, thinking of my poor bum.

  Dimitri raised an eyebrow at Rosie and smirked in a knowing manner.

  ‘Actually, I just need to have a word with Jasper.’

  Trix seemed to hear me, and stood up. She complimented Dimitri on the quality of his mixing and went over to join him.

  Jasper made a show of putting lots of extra cushions in the space beside him and drew me down gently to his side. I still winced, and I don’t think anyone missed it.

  It was a relief to see his face, as vivid with love and care as ever.

  ‘You’re still talking to me then?’ I said in an undertone.

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

  ‘Oh, well, you know. I thought …’

  ‘You thought I might sulk to put pressure on you? No. Because sulking and pressurising are unattractive and childish ways to behave,’ he said.

  He was the right one. I knew it. He knew I knew it. I wanted to say it.

  But Trix spoke first, raising her glass towards us.

  ‘I think somebody found my little film quite inspiring this afternoon,’ she said.

  Jasper smiled self-deprecatingly, looking down at his knees. I tried to think of a place to put my hot face and found nowhere immediately convenient.

  ‘What did you use? Do you mind my asking? I mean, we’re all birds of a feather here, aren’t we?’ Trix looked around for approval and found it in an enthusiastic nod from Dimitri.

  ‘You did better than us,’ said Rosie. ‘We made it as far as the bedroom and passed out for the afternoon.’

  ‘But the night is young,’ said Dimitri with a wicked smile, pinching her hip so that she squealed.

  ‘Why don’t you tell everyone, Sarah?’ invited Jasper.

  ‘I … oh, no, you do it.’

  ‘Are you embarrassed? She’s embarrassed,’ he said to the room, sliding an arm around my waist and patting my hip with his open palm. ‘And very sore, poor baby.’

  Jasper was going to talk about it. I couldn’t stop him. I felt like collapsing in upon myself, folding myself into a tiny square with my face hidden deep inside. But I would have to face this. After all, when it came to the filming … oh, God.

  ‘Oh, the embarrassment’s half the fun,’ said Trix with an encouraging smile. ‘I suppose this is all new to you, having your kink brought up in conversation like this? But we’re all like-minded, darling. Don’t think anyone’s going to throw up their hands in disgust. We’re more likely to be jealous.’ She laughed.

  ‘Six strokes of the cane,’ said Jasper.

  ‘Lovely. What sort of cane?’ There was no end to Trix’s curiosity, it seemed.

  ‘Rattan, medium thickness, traditional crook-handled.’

  ‘Have you tried those Lexan numbers?’ piped up Rosie. ‘Mal and O lent us one of theirs the other week. Sweet Jesus. Never again.’

  Even Rosie was blasé about discussing the trials and tribulations of her arse in public? Well. I was surprised, but somewhat encouraged to hear it.

  ‘I prefer an old-fashioned implement,’ said Jasper. ‘I’m very retro in that respect.’

  ‘Oh, you and Sarah are so well suited,’ said Rosie with a giggle. ‘The history girl meets the antique-loving man.’

  ‘I do like a bit of antique loving,’ said Jasper with an eyebrow quirk.

  ‘But I have real trouble,’ continued Rosie eagerly, ‘in trying to work out whether our kind of relationships are old-fashioned or actually really modern. Or postmodern even.’

  Dimitri rattled his bangles and raised his eyes to the heavens as if to say, ‘Here she goes again.’ Clearly he was used to Rosie’s compulsive overthinking.

  ‘Does it matter?’ he said. ‘As long as we are happy?’

  ‘Well, I think it does,’ said Rosie with a note of reproach. ‘Because, you know, one day, what we do might be banned. The personal is always political, isn’t it, one way or another?’

  I chimed in to agree with her.

  ‘I know what you mean. I identify as feminist, and yet plenty of other women who do the same would be disgusted with us. But I don’t see why – we aren’t being subjugated by the patriarchy. We are freely choosing to express our sexuality.’

  ‘So many long words,’ moaned Dimitri. ‘Who cares what other people think? Let them.’

  ‘I suppose,’ said Rosie, ignoring him, ‘because that sexuality is probably ingrained in our psyches by centuries of genuine misogyny and abuse. But it’s hardly our fault, is it? We can’t switch it off.’

  I was enjoying myself now, reminded of the long nights we used to spend in each other’s college rooms with a bottle of red wine and Serge Gainsbourg playing on the iPod.

  ‘No, and our society is still so stupid about sex anyway that this seems ten times more problematic than it should be.’

  ‘That’s very true,’ Trix piped up. ‘My friends at Spanking Dreams have a good deal of trouble from time to time with companies that have been happy to take their money suddenly turning puritanical on them. The companies who provide payment services are the worst for this, but they are far from alone. It’s a constant struggle to keep going in a world that seems happy with graphic violence and torture on screen, but incredibly uncomfortable with non-vanilla sex.’

  ‘I never thought I’d find backing for this project,’ said Jasper. ‘It’s only my name and reputation that have saved it, really. If I was some newbie with exactly the same pitch, I’d have been laughed out of town.’

  He picked up his glass and sampled some of Dimitri’s delicious concoction.

  ‘But there you go,’ he said. ‘You’ve got to fight for your right to have no rights. In the bedroom, and by mutual consent, that is.’

  Dimitri laughed and raised his glass.

  ‘I am drinking to that,’ he said.

  ‘Dimitri,’ said Jasper, ‘while we’re on the subject of the film project, I must warn you that at some point over the next couple of days I would like to see you in action. I’ve seen Trix, of course, though if she wants to join in …’

  ‘Gladly,’ she purred.

  ‘Well, what is that saying? There is no time like the present.’

  He put down his glass and struck a ‘bring it on’ pose.

  ‘Seriously?’ said Jasper, laughing. ‘Tonight? How many of those cocktails have you had?’

  ‘Only one.’

  ‘So you’re sober?’

  ‘Rock cold.’

  ‘Stone cold,’ muttered Rosie.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Jasper. ‘Well, in that case, perhaps you could take off all the arm furniture?’

  ‘The …?’

  ‘Sorry,
the bangles, and all the belts too, if you don’t mind. And that necklace. I want to see clean lines, no details. While you’re doing that, I’ll just set up a camera.’

  He went off to his study and I sat forward, fascinated.

  I could see that Rosie was looking a bit pale. Perhaps she felt forced into a corner, or a bit sick at the idea of watching him in action with Trix? I knew I wouldn’t be keen to see Jasper whipping another woman.

  Dimitri, without his accessories, was all lean and limber, like a gymnast or a ballet dancer. What a stunning body he had, I thought, trying not to ogle.

  He was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, black with various anarchic symbols daubed all over it, and tight, rather distressed, dark-red canvas jeans. He felt so at home here that he had been walking about the place barefoot. He looked sexy and dangerous, a bit of a bad boy, and his moustache added character to the mix.

  I wondered what Jasper would do about the tattoos, though. I didn’t think his upright, uptight Victorian gent was supposed to be tattooed with hydras and dragons and whatnots.

  Trix got up from her chair but Rosie spoke up, suddenly and stammeringly.

  ‘No, I …’

  Everyone looked at her. Jasper came back into the room with his equipment and sensed the little wave of tension. He looked around at us and asked if everything was OK.

  ‘What’s the matter, Rosie?’ said Dimitri. ‘You know why we are here. You said you are cool with it.’

  ‘No, it’s not that. I mean, I am. I’m cool with it.’

  ‘Then what is the problem?’

  ‘I just thought … well, Jasper has seen Trix on film today. He doesn’t need to see her again.’

  ‘Yes, but he needs to see me,’ said Dimitri with exaggerated patience. ‘And Trix is going to play opposite me. So …’

  ‘Yes, in the film,’ said Rosie. ‘But there’s no need for her to play opposite you here. What I’m trying to say is … I’ll do it.’

  She turned to Jasper, still pale but with her cheeks beginning to turn pink.

  ‘If that’s OK with you. Is it OK with you?’

  Dimitri clasped her from behind and kissed her neck.

  ‘My brave Rosie,’ he crooned into her ear.

  ‘Fine with me,’ said Jasper. ‘But have you done public scenes before, Rosie?’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ she said, and I gasped.

  ‘Have you?’

  She nodded, not quite able to catch my eye. ‘At Kinky Cupcake, now and then,’ she muttered.

  ‘In front of strangers,’ I clarified. ‘Not friends.’

  ‘Well, acquaintances, I suppose,’ she said. ‘But it’s OK. I’m happy to do it. It’s not like you’re making the actual film right now, is it?’

  ‘No, it’s just a form of screen test,’ said Jasper. ‘And it’s Dimitri I’m looking at, not you.’

  ‘Right.’ She nodded vigorously and lifted her face to Dimitri’s. ‘For you,’ she said softly. They kissed and I felt a little lick of flame at my heart. As if I hadn’t been worn out by the afternoon’s activities, which I had.

  ‘OK,’ said Jasper, having set himself up. ‘Dimitri, what I want to see is two things. One, an over-the-knee hand spanking. Two, a few strokes with an implement with you standing and your girl bent over something, I don’t mind what. Just to give me an idea of your style. So, first of all, why don’t you pull up a chair opposite me and put Rosie over your lap?’

  Dimitri found a Chippendale number with pale-blue satin upholstery, sat on it and pulled Rosie down with one swift tug so that she looked rather startled as she lay draped over his thighs.

  ‘What about the tattoos?’ I asked quietly.

  ‘We’ll have to keep his sleeves down,’ said Jasper. ‘Shouldn’t be a problem, though I like mine rolled up.’

  ‘To the elbow,’ I said, with a flash of lascivious visualisation.

  ‘Right, that’s good,’ said Jasper to Dimitri. ‘There’s no need to bare her bottom really, but could you just lift her skirt?’

  I heard Rosie give a little whimper. God, how could she do this? I didn’t think I could ever be so bold in front of others. But then, she always had been one for jumping into things with both feet while I hung back, reserved and cautious. At university she had had a string of boyfriends, to each of whom she had given her heart with unreserved passion. That none of them had worked out was a pity – at the time I had thought she was too impulsive and ought to hang back a bit and get to know them better first. But now, watching her with Dimitri and seeing the obvious trust and love between them, I wondered if it was me who had the problem. Me, who had played it safe at college with my predictable, undemanding, unexciting long-term boyfriend. Had I used him as a deflector shield to keep the man I really needed – the man like Jasper – at bay? Perhaps I had. Perhaps Rosie had been doing things right all along.

  Would she marry Dimitri if he asked?

  I watched her twist her ankles as her lover raised the hem of her skirt over a pair of ‘naughty weekend away’ knickers. I smiled. I bet she hadn’t realised she’d be showing them to the room when she put them on.

  They were of black lace with a heart-shaped cut-out over her bottom, baring most of both cheeks. I had a feeling there was a slit at the crotch, too, but she kept her thighs clamped together so I couldn’t really tell.

  ‘Oh, now that’s perfect,’ said Jasper. ‘A bit of coverage, and a bit of bare skin. Ideal. Did you plan this, Rosie?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ she said defiantly.

  Dimitri placed a big flat hand over the exposed part of her bottom. I could see how she quivered. I almost wanted to change places with her. No, scratch the ‘almost’. I did want to.

  ‘There, now, give her a bit of a warm-up,’ suggested Jasper. ‘Just what you’d consider to be a good start to a long session.’

  Dimitri’s first stroke was a mild little slap to Rosie’s lower cheeks and I could see her unclench her shoulders and relax into it, lulled by how gentle his opening salvo was. But she shouldn’t have been deceived. Half a dozen love pats later, he started to smack like a pro and her jolts and squeaks made my cane stripes scorch in sympathy.

  It was incredibly arousing to watch – more so than Trix’s film, even, because Dimitri himself was so absorbed in what he was doing. His face, which could be anything from adorably boyish to terrifying, became a mask of masterful concentration. He came across as so many different things – an artist in the rapture of creation; a stern taskmaster; a lover giving pleasure to his beloved.

  He was compulsively watchable. I could see why his acting career was on the up.

  Poor Rosie – lucky Rosie – panted and clenched as her heart-shaped cut-out turned by degrees from creamy white to fuchsia pink. Once it was a good, deep shade, Dimitri stayed his hand and looked up at the camera with questioning eyes.

  ‘That was beautiful,’ said Jasper. ‘Really perfect. Well done, and well done, Rosie. Now, if she can take it, I’d like to try some strokes with an implement. Rosie, could you go and bend over that stool there?’

  I knew the stool of old and a sense memory of its prickly velvet on my bare forearms swept over me.

  Rosie trotted over, avoiding all sideways eye movement, and arranged herself with her bottom facing the room.

  ‘What implement?’ Dimitri wondered aloud.

  ‘Well, you have about seven hundred belts to choose from, don’t you?’ said Jasper. ‘Why not use one of those?’

  Dimitri selected one of the wider of his plethora of leather accoutrements, one without studs, I was rather relieved to note. It was a brown, rather weathered number with tooling that made it look cowboyish.

  ‘OK,’ he said, wrapping the buckle end round a fist and marching back over to Rosie. ‘You know how you love the belt, my darling?’

  Rosie made a groaning sound.

  ‘Take it like a good girl,’ he advised. ‘You know you can do it.’

  ‘How many?’ she begged to know.

  ‘Well, I guess
I should ask the director. Jasper?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll leave it with you,’ said Jasper with a grin. ‘You know better than I do what she can take. You need to be in shot, so … yes. If you could stand there, keep a bit of space between you and the footstool. I need a good angle to shoot your hand and her bum … that’s perfect. Take it from there.’

  ‘OK.’ Dimitri pulled the belt taut from his fist.

  Rosie whimpered.

  ‘So … how many?’ she repeated urgently.

  ‘I will go for six,’ said Dimitri after some thought. ‘OK with you?’

  ‘Fine.’

  Dimitri spent a few moments flexing his shoulders and neck, as if limbering up for an exercise routine. It was both amusing and rather intimidating.

  He looked at Rosie’s upturned bottom with a squinty, scientific eye, gauging distances and velocities and suchlike.

  ‘Now then,’ he said, after all this was done. ‘Ready.’

  He was like a matador of corporal punishment, all style and sass and flourish. It was fascinating to watch, from the point of view of somebody accustomed to Jasper’s quiet, firm, no-nonsense approach. Not that this was nonsense. But the element of performance was to the fore. He would definitely make a brilliant spanking-film actor.

  He laid the strokes with excellent precision too. I almost envied Rosie, and she didn’t seem to be having a terrible time of it herself. After each stroke, and each corresponding gasp, there was a soft ‘ah’ of something like satisfaction.

  They obviously knew each other well and were able to play on each other’s preferences.

  Soon enough, six deeper red welts lay across the deep pink heart of Rosie’s rear cheeks. It looked so lovely that I wanted to admire it indefinitely, but all too soon Rosie was up on her feet with her skirt back in place. She hid herself in Dimitri’s arm, her face turned into his shoulder, while he and Jasper discussed the finer points of performing for the camera.

  The shop talk went on for so long that I tired of it and went to pour Trix and myself another cocktail.

  ‘I could never do that,’ I said to her conversationally. ‘I think you and Rosie are incredibly brave.’

  ‘Ah, it’s nothing,’ said Trix. ‘Not when you’re an old hand like me. Rosie is brave though – it’s newer to her. And you’re an old friend of hers. That took some guts. She must have been afraid you would judge her.’