by Simone Sinna
“Cooler?” Samantha asked, hiccupping.
“As in…the cellar.”
Samantha stared at Jeremy, her stomach feeling like a butterfly was banging against the walls. Like as in a BDSM cellar? The real thing? She swallowed.
“Do you think I’m up to that?”
“No time like the present to find out.”
Jeremy took her elbow and was guiding her out. But not before she caught Mike’s look, which seemed full of misgivings.
* * * *
BDSM seemed to be a traditional practice amongst the Sandfords, at least if how their great-uncle had set the cellar out was anything to go by. Jeremy and Mike had found the secret door next to the Burgundy section when they had been teenagers and used it more than once to fuel a fantasy, though neither had ever used it before, for real. Tonight it seemed appropriate to do so together, and the two of them had spent the afternoon cleaning it and filling it with musk-smelling candles. It was an imposing room in the dim light, and Mike thought that if Samantha had even an inkling that they were on to her, she’d run a mile.
But Mike watched her allow Jeremy to lead her down the steps, as sweet and innocent as she had always seemed. Was he really that gullible, that much of an idiot? The answer was probably yes, but he was still hoping for an innocent explanation. If she really was as conniving as Jeremy had concluded he might just give up on women altogether, except the occasional dalliance at Half-Moon.
Mike watched her hesitate in the doorway, and heard a soft “wow.” But she kept walking. Time to play his part.
* * * *
Samantha had never seen anything quite like it, except maybe at the London Dungeon. But that had been for torture. This was supposed to be pleasure, right?
“The word still works here?”
“Of course,” said Jeremy. He leant into her, nibbling her neck. She could smell the richness of his cologne, though the musk in the air came in waves and soon saturated her olfactory senses. “Trust us.”
Samantha gulped. Mike was in front of her, taking her hands, putting her fingers into his mouth and sucking them.
“You’re all ours now,” he whispered.
Samantha’s butterflies had multiplied. Mike kept her hands together and raised them over her head and she heard a click. Looking up she realised she was secured in handcuffs hanging from the ceiling and wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry. Mike tickled her neck and she shivered. From behind Jeremy was untying the knot of her halter-top dress. But he changed his mind, putting his hand under the dress instead. The only other item of clothing she was wearing was a tiny black thong that was, she was sure, drenched with her juices.
Mike groaned and she could feel his hands now on the edge of her breasts as he stepped in closer, and he kissed her. She melted into him, forgetting where she was for a moment as the pleasure of his embrace, of being his, overtook her. But then he pulled back at exactly the moment she felt a sharp sting on her backside, through the dress.
“Ouch!” It hadn’t really hurt, more surprised her. Not a whip, just Jeremy’s hand she figured. But then Jeremy was whispering in her ear, as he drew down her side, firmly, what felt like the end of a riding crop. “I think you have been very naughty Miss Coulton,” he said. “Do you know what we do to naughty girls?”
Samantha swallowed. “No…Master.”
“Naughty girls get spanked.” She felt a light sting, this time the crop, followed by his hand massaging. “Very naughty girls,” Jeremy continued, “get spanked very hard.”
Samantha bit her lip. Was she allowed to speak? “I…I haven’t been at all bad, um, Master.”
“Really?” She heard the disbelief in his voice. Hands were on her again. She closed her eyes and felt rather than heard them circling her and was no longer sure whose hands were whose. Two massaged her breasts, going under the flimsy fabric, teasing and pinching her nipples, another went underneath and brushed across her thong.
“Very, very wet,” came a whisper. Mike, she thought, but couldn’t be sure.
“And you said you weren’t naughty? Tsk, tsk. I think she’d like us to undress her, Mike, what do you think?”
“That seems to be where she is heading.” Mike sounded like he could barely get a word out.
“But we aren’t going to oblige, are we?”
At first Samantha wasn’t sure she’d heard right. Then she just figured it was part of their game. Which it was. Just not one she knew she was playing.
“We might just leave you there a while,” said Jeremy.
“Leave me?”
“Until you tell us the truth.”
“Truth?”
“Yes,” said Jeremy. “All about Russell.”
* * * *
Jeremy watched Samantha stop squirming and frown.
“Russell?”
Jeremy could see Mike was looking hopeful, but he wasn’t so optimistic. Of course she was going to deny it. They hadn’t put any pressure on her yet. Half an hour tied to the ceiling might bring about a change of heart.
“Yes,” said Jeremy. “Is he paying you, or did you think he’d marry you?”
“Is this a joke?”
Jeremy couldn’t stop himself from running his hands over her delicious butt, under her dress. She really was gorgeous. Mike wouldn’t forgive her, but he just might. If her story was good enough.
“No joke, Sam,” said Mike softly.
“We know he’s already done a valuation on our property. Did he think you could get us to sell if we couldn’t agree?”
Samantha looked from one to another. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re way off.”
Jeremy sat down on one of the lounge chairs she hadn’t taken much notice of until now. Off the table next to it, he picked up a grainy photo and held it so she could just make it out.
“That was an idiot I dated about four times.”
Jeremy saw Mike perk up immediately. But he had to be sure.
“Didn’t you think it might be relevant to tell us this?”
Samantha looked like her patience was wearing thin. “As you didn’t think to give me a list of your girlfriends I can’t say it occurred to me. Is this some rule for BDSM subs or something? If so, hand over the boots and whip.”
“But Russell,” said Mike, puppy dog eyes imploring her, “is our cousin. John’s son. He’s been after us to sell High Camp for the last year.”
Chapter Twelve
Samantha stared and said, “Ballbreaker.”
Mike looked at Jeremy who seemed undecided, but undid the handcuffs anyway.
“I think we need to talk.”
They did, talking animatedly for at least an hour over a bottle of red. At first Samantha thought about hitting one or both over the head with the bottle rather than drinking from it, but as the story poured out it seemed Russell had been taking her for a ride.
“He never seemed all that keen on me,” Samantha admitted, “yet he just wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“He must have known about the will from his father.” Jeremy had said very little until now.
“And thought he’d try getting me on side?” asked Samantha. “But even I didn’t know I was coming until the last minute.”
“But your father did.”
Samantha frowned. Possible, she supposed.
“Your dad was in ‘Nam with ours—and Uncle John.”
“So?”
“Gerry, our dad, would have discussed his plan with him, and your dad.”
“You think they plotted to send me?”
Jeremy and Mike looked at each other and then her. “Well it was one of our Dad’s better plans.”
Samantha blushed. She wasn’t sure this was exactly what her father had in mind, but on the other hand, he’d probably have been happy with either Sandford man as a son-in-law. He had made no secret of his desire to be a grandfather.
“So Russell tried it on with me to see if he could get my cooperation and make sure I voted with the plan that su
ited him? Well he failed. I haven’t seen him for a month or more.”
“So what,” asked Jeremy, “would he do then, do you think?”
“Ring PETA.”
“Set the place alight.”
“Cause havoc with the stock.”
“Get Monica on side.”
“Send the photo of me to ensure you didn’t trust me.”
The three of them contemplated each other.
“Which might have worked,” said Jeremy. “If we couldn’t agree and he then offered to buy us out maybe I would have voted for it.”
‘I wouldn’t have.” Mike crossed his arms.
“So it would have come down to my vote, and selling would have been the logical choice,” said Samantha. “But Russell didn’t allow for one thing.”
“Which is?”
Samantha beamed. “I have the answer.”
* * * *
There was a bit of work to do first to set things in place, but they had some luck. Jackson Cutter was a good reporter as well as being Martin, the lawyer’s, son. As a local, Jackson had grown up with Russell and commented that even in primary school he had tried to get other kids to do his homework, largely through sheer laziness. With the original PETA interest in the region fuelled by Russell and then the continuing issues at the Sandford farm there hadn’t been this much local excitement in years. Jackson had been keeping an eye on Russell ever since his girlfriend Kylie at the realtor’s office, told him that Russell had asked for an evaluation.
“I have an interesting photo, and a chat with a petrol station owner.” He told her the details.
“Can I have a copy of that photo?”
* * * *
Jeremy monitored his tone carefully, ensuring it had the appropriate degree of solemnity. “As you know we have been working with Coulton & Co. and have come to a decision.”
“Already?” John sounded surprised. So he should be. They’d never agreed on anything ever before!
“We’re having a dinner Saturday night,” Jeremy continued. “We would love to have you there, given your obvious interest.”
“Sure,” his uncle replied.
“Oh, and can you make sure you bring Russell?”
* * * *
“Monica honey?”
“Mike?”
She sounded, rightly, incredulous. Mike gritted his teeth. “I was thinking about what you said the other day. How about dinner so we can talk it over?”
* * * *
“Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“I am in a bit of a pickle.”
“You can handle it, darling.”
Samantha wasn’t sure her acting was up to this. Still, he couldn’t see her so that would help. “No,” she whispered, taking gulps of air. “I need you here now. Did you know they have a…a…dungeon here? I think they are…” Gulp. “…planning something.”
Samantha looked at her watch. She had given her father an hour’s warning. That meant he’d probably turn up when the dinner was in full swing. The other guests were due to arrive any moment. Jeremy and Mike grinned at her.
“You look stunning.” Mike kissed her cheek.
“A complete ballbreaker.” Jeremy winked at her as he pinched her butt. “Are we ready?”
“Ready as we’re ever going to be.”
Monica was first to arrive, without Thomas as instructed. Samantha and Jeremy listened from the next room as Mike played his part.
He poured her a champagne.
“To our future,” said Monica. Through the crack in the door Samantha could see her looking coyly at Mike.
“To the future of the Sandfords,” said Mike, clinking glasses.
“I am so pleased you’ve thought about things, Mikey.”
Mikey. Really?
“I have,” said Mike. “A lot. I have realised that I have spent far too much time worrying at working at High Camp. Not enough time for you and Thomas.”
“Really?” Monica didn’t sound like this was what she had been expecting.
“Yes,” said Mike. Samantha could see him nodding gravely. He was a much better actor than she’d thought possible. Maybe because so much was at stake. “So I want you to be the first to know.”
“Know what?”
“I’m giving High Camp to Jeremy.”
Monica sat perfectly still. “You’re what?”
“Yes,” Mike said. “Thomas already has his inheritance. I’m getting out.”
“You mean sell don’t you darling?”
“No, Samantha Coulton made me think. It was the will really. Thought I’d travel around Australia. Be a great education for Thomas. We could—”
“Now listen here, Mike Sandford. Have you taken leave of your senses? Me travel around Australia? What, camping? You have to be joking.”
“Well we could take a little house in town then?”
Before Monica could hit Mike with the full force of her reply, the doorbell went. Jeremy winked at Samantha and headed to answer it. John and Russell. Samantha peeked through the doorway. Yes, it was her Russell alright, lying shit. He’d told her his name was Russell Holmes. His middle name from his mother apparently.
“Monica dear,” said Jeremy, “you know John and Russell of course?”
Samantha could just make out Monica’s tight smile as she watched on.
“Mike was just telling me Jeremy somehow managed to bully him into giving him High Camp.”
“What?” Russell looked aghast.
John raised an eyebrow. “That woman must be a miracle worker.”
“I thought you said you’d organised it!” Monica glared at Russell. Russell pulled at his collar. The wispy hair on his chin looked ridiculous. It was like he was advertising he didn’t have enough testosterone.
Mike took a sip of champagne. “Organised what, Monica?”
“You Sandfords are complete losers!” said Monica. “How come the one man I didn’t like is going to end up with everything?” She took a step toward Jeremy and a long fingernail prodded his chest repeatedly. “Don’t think you’re going to get away with this. I know my son’s rights! Even if his father won’t stick up for–”
“Sit down, Monica.”
“I’m not going to listen to this—”
“I said sit down.”
Monica turned and looked at Mike. She sat down hurriedly.
Time for Samantha to join them. If Russell was looking uncomfortable before, now he was sweating up a storm. “I have an interesting story to tell you all.”
John looked bewildered. Samantha felt sorry for him. He didn’t deserve a loser son like Russell.
“Let’s start with Cory Patton.”
John looked to his son, frowning. “Who’s Cory Patton?”
“The man Russ has been negotiating with to do some breeding,” said Samantha.
“Breeding? I thought you wanted to sell?”
Russell started to mumble a reply but Samantha talked over the top of him. “A new type of sheep, with fine wool but thicker skin so they don’t need mulesing. Best of both worlds.”
“Seems Cory’s group needs a big property with lots of sheds and capacity for separating sheep out,” said Mike. “More he talked about it, the more our property sounded perfect. He thought so, too, when you offered it to him.”
“But you were hoping to get rid of us first, weren’t you, Russ, or agree to a deal where you were the principal financial beneficiary? You were sure we’d never agree so you were going to use your link to Sam to get us to agree to your deal, make us an offer we couldn’t refuse after a month of battling each other, to say nothing of having to deal with fires, missing sheep, and maybe a few other things you still had in store for us? ”
“And you,” said Mike to Monica, “tried to have it both ways.”
Monica glared at him. “I don’t need it both ways. Tom is all mine.”
“Really?” said Samantha coolly. “The court may see it differently. Particularly if he would have to be stayin
g in gaol with you.”
Monica’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t think you can threaten me.”
Jeremy put a photo on the table. ‘This is the one you sent me of Russell and Sam when you thought she was getting too close to us.”
Monica smirked.
“But this one is a good deal more interesting, don’t you think?”
They all leant in to try and make it out. Monica and Russell in a car, apparently his. Jackson had taken the car registration. The time and date of the photo was straight before the fire, outside High Camp.
“I’ll testify to court if I have to.” Jackson came in, with his father.
Russell and Monica both looked like they had shrunk in the space of seconds. And if the party wasn’t big enough already, this was when the cavalry arrived. Sam Coulton senior came running through the door, golf club in hand, and Snape at his side went straight for Monica’s ankles.
Chapter Thirteen
Afterwards, with all the papers signed and everyone finally dispatched, the three of them opened a bottle of champagne and Samantha started laughing. The more she pictured her father’s entrance and his expression when he saw them all, the more hysterical she became. When she announced that she had come to an agreement with the Sandfords, his expression had been even more comical. But he had looked at John and the two had high-fived, glancing to the mantelpiece where a photo of their mate Gerry was smiling at them.
More than the agreement the brothers had come to, Samantha was most proud of the agreement she wrangled out of Monica. Mike didn’t want the mother of his child in gaol, nor did he want her out of the child’s life. But he wanted to get the access the court had mandated without her games. With the threat of criminal charges over her, she had agreed readily. Then she had offered to let Mike have custody if she was given a payment. Samantha thought he might have strangled her there and then.
“What sort of mother are you?” he raged. But in the end he agreed, though the payment was to make sure she did see her son regularly as a new boyfriend had asked her to move to Queensland, and with the current disappointing investments she announced she would try “further afield.”