by Flora Dain
I sense a hint of the great outdoors. I recall his mother runs a stud farm. She sweeps me with a quizzical look as her son kisses her cheek but when she touches my hand hers is surprisingly warm. ‘I’m so glad to meet you, Ella. And do call me Savoy. Everyone does. So you’re Petronella Dean? I love your work. When I heard Darnley had read your poem Life in landscapes at the Institute I hoped I’d get to meet you.’
I’m touched by her courtesy. ‘You know my old professor?’
She smiles, warmer now. ‘Oh, yes. We go back a way. He’s here, somewhere.’ As she looks vaguely round, I notice Cola slip away into the crowd.
Savoy watches her go, pressing her lips together as she lowers her voice. ‘I’m so sorry to spring Cola on you both. This business scared the wits out of all of us. And she’s so moody, poor child. Do forgive her. I’m sure she’s been difficult.’
As she tells me about their trip I lose focus a little. She walked out on her son. How could any woman do that? When I tune back in to what she’s saying we’re still on Cola.
‘… So she begged me to bring her. But I mustn’t keep you. Do come over and visit the ranch sometime. We’d love to have you.’
Now I search out my old professor while Darnley drifts over to a group from MIT. Through gaps in the crowd I catch glimpses of Cola talking to someone in the group from the university. I can’t see who it is but what catches my attention is her expression. She looks quite different, her face lit up.
It’s a look I know well: it’s how I feel when I’m with Darnley.
I greet my professor with only part of my attention as a small drama plays out on the fringe of my vision. Now Darnley and his mother have seen her too. He mutters into a phone as his men close in. At the same moment Cola breaks away from the person she was talking to and he slips away into the crowd. She comes back over, her pout firmly back in place and her eyes troubled.
The whole episode takes barely a few minutes but it’s very revealing.
I wonder if Darnley knows she’s in love.
At last I bid a fond farewell to my professor and Darnley comes up close.
‘Had enough?’
His look is so intent my heart skips. ‘Don’t you want to talk to your mother a little longer? You must have a lot to say …’
‘Ella, please. We’re hardly close. And she’s around for a while yet. We’ll catch up.’
After a round of brief farewells we head for the open air. His car is already waiting. In the back seat I lean back and smile at him as his dark look warms me. The bracelets are heavy now, loading my slim wrists like lead weights – just how he wants them. They attracted a lot of attention this evening. Now they’re nagging at mine.
His fingers slide around them, his touch like electricity on my skin. I feel my nipples stiffen under the thin satin of my gown and his look darkens as he notices. One hand reaches forward to brush the places with the back of his finger, his gaze intent.
I arch my neck as my breasts react to his soft caress with a slight swell, my nipples now tense and numb, my rapid breathing straining the satin of my neckline. ‘What – what’s Cola enrolled for?’
His fond smile blanks. ‘Enrolled? Where?’
I blink, my breasts now burning, my nipples throbbing as numbness tenses them and fades again. ‘At the Academy. We only teach referrals. She has some kind of problem? Is she in rehab?’
He frowns. His hand stays in place, his fingers lingering in my neckline, easing the low curve of the fabric downwards so I risk spilling out altogether. ‘She’s not enrolled at all. I was hoping you’d tell me how she knew about you.’
He still won’t trust me. My heart sinks, and then hardens. This may not be the moment to hint she’s involved with someone. ‘Your mother knows about me. Maybe she mentioned my name.’
He’s still frowning. ‘But how did she know where to find you?’ His hand pauses on its journey. His cold look chills my heart.
Why can’t he trust me? ‘Why not ask her?’
‘I do. She just clams up. So now I’m asking you.’
‘I tell you, I don’t know. What else can I say?’
His eyes glitter dangerously as we draw to a halt.
I glance out of the window and stare. ‘Where are we?’ We’re nowhere near the open spaces around his mansion. We’re still in Beacon Hill, only a few streets away from the State House, in one of the oldest and most exclusive parts of town. The colonial-fronted houses are elegant and secluded.
‘After you.’ I’m ushered out of the car and he leads me up to an imposing side entrance that swings slowly open to let us in and then closes behind us. We’re in a plain, white-painted corridor, all hushed carpet, gilded antique mirrors, low lighting. There are doors leading off but all are closed except for one partly open at the end. He murmurs into his phone as we approach it and I gather our arrival is being checked and some kind of clearance given.
He ushers me into the open doorway and I gaze around me while the door behind us closes softly, the final click of the lock the only sound in this soft, muffled chamber.
I turn to him, my heart thumping against my ribs. ‘Where the hell are we?’
He says nothing, but I can sense his excitement. His slow smile tells me where we are, like I didn’t already know.
It wasn’t a question, it was a cry for help.
We’re in a dungeon, or the next best thing in these safety-conscious, sophisticated times. It’s all here: the padded walls, the gleaming chains, the smell of leather.
And on the rail screwed to the centre of the floor, placed directly under the glare of the spotlights, like it’s the treasure at the heart of some temple of doom, hangs a gleaming pair of handcuffs, hard and uncompromising. They’re waiting for me.
It starts with the bracelets. It leads me to this.
Thrill of the chase.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘Scared?’
Amid all this terrifying paraphernalia he seems perfectly at home, but I sense he’s watchful. He’s waiting for my reaction. I refuse to feel cowed, scary though this is.
It’s just a game. I can play too.
I lean up to kiss his jaw, a tiny act of submission to set the tone. ‘I’d say yes if I thought it was that simple,’ I say, softly. ‘I’m not sure what I feel.’
His slow smile sends a tremor through me. ‘Hey. That was a brave answer. You never disappoint.’
He may not know it but I could, easily. Right now I feel about as brave as limp tissue. I keep my eyes firmly off the glittering cuffs. ‘You do this often?’
He’s shedding his jacket and loosening his tie. ‘No, I told you. I lack the patience to commit fully to this. I talked it over with Freda and we thought it might –’
‘Freda?’ I stare at him, resentment burning.
His cousin Freda stole Ryan, my ex. She’s a techno wizard too and seems to have some hold on Darnley. What scares me is he seems unaware of it. His jaw hardens. ‘I told you, we trained together. She’s staying here.’
‘We’re in Freda’s house?’ Outrage builds, but curiosity beats it back. I need to know about this.
As he peels off his shirt his honed muscles emerge into the gleam of the spotlights like an Adonis. It’s an effort to keep my rage fixed on his face as his chest swells slightly, filling my vision, reminding me he’s beautifully built and, in here, all-powerful. And on the point of proving it …
All at once he pulls me into his arms and starts reaching into my hair, removing pins, a diamond clasp or two, and sweeping my hair back from my face. As he scoops it back he finds my lips, his expression unreadable. ‘No, Ella. We’re in my house. Freda rents a small part of it. She works for me. She manages – and occasionally uses – the facilities. And now we’re going to.’
My stomach’s tied in a knot. ‘Were you going to ask me about this at some point?’
He frowns, impatient now. ‘I did. When I gave you the bracelets. You said you’d try it. Remember?’ His face grows troubled. ‘Ella, you
promised.’
I gaze at this beautiful man, at the peak of his powers, in the heart of his world, so different from mine. I’d try anything to reach him. But this?
Take me somewhere … ‘We’ve done this in bedrooms and in our house. You’ve worn a stud, you’ve made me ….’ I swallow at the memory of some of the things we’ve done. An instant fizz of arousal surges through me and dries my mouth. I bite my lip and try to stay focused. ‘Why here?’
Mostly I want to ask where Freda comes into this, but it’s too late. He’s already unzipping my gown and braiding my hair into a loose single coil, his fingers scarily deft, like he’s done this often.
The thought makes me shiver. It also makes me hot. ‘I hope this will be fun.’ I give him a playful look, trusting to the power of my arousal. I can do this …
Instantly he grows silent and purposeful. With a stern look he presses a finger to my lips to ensure my silence and then slowly peels my gown away and lays it along a polished cabinet. My stockings and heels meet with approval but he scoops my breasts out of my bra-cups and rests them on the double rim of lace, testing the shoulder straps for resilience and tightening the straps a little at the back so they bulge in a perfect horizontal.
His touch is light, almost clinical.
He gathers my hands together as if in prayer, clamps my wrists into the glinting steel ring awaiting them. This part I understand – we’ve done this before, but here, under a spotlight and with all this kit bristling round the walls, it feels much more intense.
I try to focus on his power and his strength. Maybe some of it will rub off on me.
I don’t want to seem scared. It might be unwise.
‘Do you trust me, Ella?’ His eyes are full of heat, his voice thick with need.
This is my last chance to wriggle out, but all at once I need this too. And I want it to work for him. ‘Yes. I’ll always trust you.’
He kisses me on the forehead – the calm before the storm – and all at once he’s brisk. ‘Good. You’re going to wear this.’
Before I can protest he slips a sleep mask over my head and everything goes black.
‘Bend over.’
I bend low as he pulls lightly at my hips and splays my thighs. I know what’s coming now. Heat flashes through me in spurts of flame as fear and adrenalin surge and blend. With light blotted out my other senses sharpen instantly, primed with fear. I strain to hear what he’s doing.
‘Relax. You’re very tense. You’re shivering.’ His hands are smoothing my quivering shoulders, sliding round my tense, clenched rump, easing my bunched globes apart, his fingers warm and invading, testing and quelling my urge to stay tight. He lands a few experimental slaps on my backside and I fight to keep still as I whimper with excitement.
He walks away for a moment, leaving me bereft, my skin super-sensitive to the sudden emptiness around me. Now he’s moving around the room. I hear a drawer open and close, a rail of equipment clatter. What’s he going to use?
‘What’s happening?’
An explosion of pain at my rear end makes me gasp.
‘What’s happening, what?’ His voice is husky.
I hang in the cuffs, rigid with shock, my mind a blank. ‘What’s happening – sir?’
His hand lands again, gentle now, and soothes me once more until my quivering eases. ‘That’s better. No more talking now. Use a safe word if you have to. “Finish” will do it, if it gets too extreme. Got that?’
I breathe deep and fight for calm. I can play too. ‘Yes, sir. “Finish.” I’ll remember. Sir,’ I add quickly.
I hang my head as he starts to kiss my back, his mouth hot and hungry. He’s feeling me all over, reaching round to fondle my breasts, teasing and tugging at my nipples, smoothing long, loving caresses all along my flanks and my inner thighs where the soft skin quivers at his touch, almost ticklish. And all at once I feel it, the slick of leather as he draws something across my back – a flogger.
I was sort of expecting it but it’s still a shock. And now his hands leave off and the whip takes over, its touch lingering and cruel, the strands like long, evil fingers.
When it slides under my body and up over my front it grazes my nipples. I clench my teeth, desperate not to cry out as they harden and tense into puckered pebbles. When the leathery snakes cruise back through my legs and slither slowly through my splayed, pulsing gap I do cry out, hypersensitive now.
‘I said silence.’ He jerks up my head with a yank on my braid and the whip lands on my bottom. Slivers of excitement slice through me like lightning, electrifying every nerve in my body into instant attention. And now it begins, the long, slow breakdown of my will, as the blows fall, stinging at first then glowing and warm, some soft, some sharp but all relentless, on and on, until my nerves give up deciding if they sting or soothe.
Now he’s barking orders, the onslaught not enough to slake his needs. He wants my legs straighter, my feet more arched.
‘Keep your head up.’ Another jerk on my braid stresses the point, hauling my head up high. ‘You must aim for grace and poise at all times.’
I try, but the blows are burning me up – and so is something else. The power play between us is making me seethe with lust. I feel heat building deep below as the effect of what he’s doing, and the thought of how exposed and vulnerable I must look, works on my inner vision and turns me into my very own personal porno.
If I can get this aroused just by imagining what I look like then what must it be like for him, actually watching?
I soon find out as he pauses for a moment and all at once I feel the touch of something hot, hard and rounded – his erection. He’s teasing me with it, touching me, prodding me, probing my jutting, swollen breasts, nudging my tingling, shivering thighs, touching it to my trembling lips but nowhere near long enough for me to taste or kiss it; it’s just a reminder of his power.
And the thought that he can hold off this long tips me over some edge. As my own arousal aches and drums down below the thought of his arousal, and the feel of it, makes my tears spring. At last he pauses to fondle me, laying the whip carefully across my back.
‘Stay still.’
His command rings in my ears as he caresses my burning places. I hold very still, scared of dislodging the thing.
All at once he stops. ‘Hey. You OK?’
‘No.’ I sniff loudly. ‘My nose tickles. Sir.’
He touches my face. ‘Shit, Ella. You’re crying.’
All at once I’m being unfastened and gathered up into his arms. As he wrenches the mask off my face I blink into the sudden blaze of light, everything a blur. Down below I’m on fire, partly from hot, burning arousal, mostly from his hotter, punishing weapon. Now the glow’s spreading all over me, flaring like a torch as I catch the heat in his eyes.
His voice stays low, his rich tone thrilling through me as his face fills with concern. ‘You should use the safe word. That’s what it’s for.’
He sounds angry. Now I’m jumpy, unsure what I feel. Everything’s getting on top of me. His touch, his kisses, his looks were already doing strange, disturbing things to me. Now I’m so twitchy I want to cry and laugh at the same time.
‘It wasn’t that bad. It’s just –’ I break off and nuzzle deep into his shoulder, scared of what I feel and scared of saying any more.
He takes firm hold of my braid and pulls my head up, forcing me to look at him. I blink as more tears spill. It seems this is a big deal. All I want to do is hide somewhere and weep, nursing my desperate, scorching arousal somewhere quiet.
‘Talk to me, Ella. We won’t get anywhere unless you’re honest with me. What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing. Everything. I – it’s just …’ I tail off and dive for his shoulder again but a jerk on my braid prevents me.
‘Tell me.’ His gaze locks on mine, like I’m some scared animal.
‘I can’t. It’s embarrassing.’
His eyes blaze. ‘Tell me.’
Fury and frustration mount,
burning away the tears. Now I’m getting mad too. ‘I want to come, you bastard. What do you think?’ I bury my face in his chest and sob as his hands circle my wrists, his fingers hot as coals on the places I’ve rubbed sore during my ordeal.
Underneath me I feel a distinct upheaval as his chest shudders and now to my fury I sense he’s laughing.
‘Is that all, my pet? Of course you want to come. Me too. That’s why we’re doing this. Or did I leave out that part?’
He strokes my hair but I wrench away and glare at him, tears of frustration flowing freely now, emotion welling up after my long session.
‘Hey. Don’t get mad. This is the fun part.’ He descends on my mouth just as my lips open to give him a generous piece of my mind and now he gives me a taste of his instead. As his tongue impales me, searching deep, and his jaw locks on mine I feel my anger melt away and a glorious golden glow seep through me like liquid happiness. When he pulls away I could walk on clouds.
He inspects my face carefully, drinking in my expression, touching my skin with soft fingertips. ‘OK now? That glow in your cheeks a hint the endorphins are kicking in?’
I scowl. ‘That superior air a hint that the science lecture is anywhere near over and I finally get to fuck? Or shall I just sit here and lust?’
His pleased grin sends a tremor all through me. ‘Your wish is my command, princess. My treat.’
He sets me on my feet and leads me across the room to a steel door. As he presses a code into a keypad on the wall I shiver.
‘Are we going somewhere? What about our clothes?’
He’s watching me with the lazy smile of a cat with cream. ‘Where we’re going we won’t need any.’
The door slides open to reveal a small elevator. In seconds we’re on our way upward. When the door opens again he ushers me into a vast apartment, with low lighting, bowls of flowers and music playing somewhere.
Still jumpy, I glare at him in alarm. ‘What’s this? Not … not Freda’s place?’ The thought turns my stomach. I guess I’m more upset than I thought. I’m not used to this whipping thing.