Buying the Virgin - Box Set Three, The Virgin's Summer: Love, Ménage and BDSM between a Young Woman, her Master and her Lover (Buying the Virgin Box Set Book 3)
Page 6
Michael sits on the far side of the bed from me, watching with a calm expression.
“Michael, are you still angry with me too?”
“Yup, but it doesn’t need two of us to get the message across. I’m just watching, to make sure things don’t get out of hand. Then I’m going to fuck you up the ass. You should be glowing by then.”
Already, it feels as though I am glowing. I can almost see my reddened ass reacting to slap after slap, and each is delivered hard, and precisely.
I am reaching my limits. If I ask, will he stop?
“Master, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you angry.”
“Is that right?” And his hand comes down on me again.
My safety word?
“Master, yellow. Please, I can’t handle much more.” And he slaps again, then plunges fingers into my core. “Dripping. You’re enjoying this…. Michael, flogger.”
Michael fishes in the drawer again, producing the lash. Velvety soft tails dangle from the handle, but I know that in the hands of an expert, they will bite.
And my Master is an expert.
Trembling hard now, my quivering is not from arousal. Never have I seen my Master in this mood, and he is scaring me.
The tails of the flogger lash, hard over my buttocks and thighs, and I scream.
“Please, Master, stop. Red. Master, Red.”
But he does not stop. “The lash comes across my skin again. Bound as I am, I can do nothing but scream. “Red, Master, Red. Please.”
“That’s enough.” says Michael. “She’s given you her safety words. That’s what they’re for. Now stop.”
Once more, the lash licks across me, burning into my skin.
My Master swings me around again to face him. His expression is…what? Wild? Fearful? I’m not sure.
But he strokes my face, his dark eyes unreadable, then fastens his mouth over mine.
Hitching me up at the hips, he takes my weight, swinging me up. Reflexively I wrap my legs around him as he plunges into me, fucking hard.
This isn’t lovemaking. It isn’t fucking. It isn’t even ‘discipline’….
Whatever that means….
After only a short while, he comes, spurting into me, as I try to keep the tears from my eyes.
“Michael, tour turn.”
“I don’t think so.”
Michael reaches up, untying me, and I drop to the ground, landing on my knees, crying and shaking.
Michael scoops me up and puts me in the bed, where I lie, sobbing.
_________________________
Michael is to one side of me, my Master to the other, both sleeping, I lie in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. I cannot sleep.
Perhaps a hot milk would help….
Moving as quietly as I can, I slide out of the bed, slip on a robe and pad downstairs. In the kitchen, I put milk on to heat, adding nutmeg and cinnamon to make it more of a treat. Maybe it will cheer me up.
Steaming mug in hand, I pick up a large beach towel, and at the last moment, a cushion as well, and walk out onto the beach. Sitting on my towel and my cushion, I cradle the mug, staring out to sea.
There is only the slightest of breezes, blowing wisps of hair around my face, and the only sound is the rushing of the surf, a little way away.
The night is bright and moonlit, bright enough that I cast a shadow on the sands.
What did I do wrong?
I want to cry….
“May I join you?”
It is my Master. I do not speak, just shuffle up the towel to make room for him, wincing at the sting in my buttocks.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte. I owe you an apology.”
“Master?”
“You didn’t do anything. None of us can help how we feel inside. It’s how we deal with those reactions that counts. And I didn’t deal well with my own reactions today.”
I gulp down my milk, not knowing what to say.
“That smells good.”
“Would you like some of it, Master? Or I can make some more.”
“In a while, perhaps.”
Trivial words…. they don’t mean anything…
“If had been just you that was angry at me Master, it would have been bad enough, but when Michael was mad at me too, I thought……”
“I love you, Charlotte. Perhaps too much.”
I gulp another mouthful.
“And Michael loves you also.”
“Yes, he does.” says a voice from behind me.
Another beach towel ruffles up next to me, settling on the sand. Michael sits beside me.
“I came to apologise too. Neither of us behaved well today. And my behaviour was worse. I knew, that how James reacted wasn’t right, but I let him do it anyway because I was jealous too.”
My Master continues. “Next time you meet Haswell, just do what any sane woman would do; be polite, and remember that he’s a married man.”
“Who, incidentally,” says Michael, “has a reputation for adoring his wife; worships the ground she walks on apparently…”
I nod, unspeaking.
“It’s late.” says my Master. “Come back to bed?”
“In a while.” I stare out to sea, not looking at either of them. After a few minutes’ awkward silence, they both return to the house.
What am I doing here?
What kind of woman sets up with two men? Tries to make a threesome work?
Perhaps I should go…. I could make an early start on next year’s college work….
Quietly, I go back to the house, pack my laptop and a few other essentials into a rucksack. My clothes are mainly upstairs in the bedroom. I don’t want to go in there. I might wake them.
Putting on my stoutest shoes, walking boots I packed in case we went hiking in the mountains, I sling the rucksack over my shoulder. Slipping the two rings from my finger, I leave them on the mantle, and slip out into the night.
It is a good distance to the City, at least thirty miles. I’ll not do it in one stretch. But I recall a twenty-four-hour diner at about the halfway point. When I get there, I can stop to eat and sleep a bit. Once I get to the rail station, I can get back to my university from there.
The road is not lit, but in the clear night, I can’t get lost. If push comes to shove, all I need to do is keep the sea to my right and I’ll end up in the City. But there is no problem. Just as the dark of the horizon fades to a grey, pre-dawn light, I reach the diner I was aiming for. I am tired, but plenty of coffee and a hearty breakfast revive me, or so I think…
I wake, with a stiff neck from sleeping leaning up against a wall. Rubbing it and cursing under my breath, I sit up to see Michael and my Mast….no, not my Master…. Michael and James sitting opposite me, waiting for me to wake.
“Sleep well?” asks Michael acidly.
Rubbing my sore neck, “No, not really. What are you two doing here?”
“What are we doing here?” says James. “What are you doing here? You scared the hell out of us this morning. Where d’you think you’re going?”
“Home, well, back to college anyway.”
“Like this? Walking?”
“Only to the station. They have trains there, you know.”
“For God’s sake, get in the car. We can talk back at the house.”
“No, we can’t. I’m done with talking.”
“Charlotte, I’m telling you. Get in the car, and we’ll talk about last night, back at the house, where we have some privacy.” Already, I can see the woman serving at the bar, watching us warily. I see her mutter something to a man stacking dishes into a washer.
“And I’m telling you, James, that you have surrendered the authority to tell me anything.”
He goes very quiet, staring at me.
Michael says, “Please, Charlotte. Come with us. We can sort this out.”
“No. I will not get in that car with you. You two think you run my life? You don’t. Now leave me alone. Goodbye, the pair of you.”
“You’re walking? It’s got to be twenty miles yet.” Michael sounds disbelieving.
“You think I can’t walk twenty miles? Watch me. Besides, it’s daylight now. I can thumb a lift.”
Both men look appalled. “No, you mustn’t do that, Charlotte.” says Michael. “It’s way too dangerous, especially for a girl like you.”
Dish-stacker man is standing beside us. “Are you okay, Lady? These two bothering you?”
“Er no, I’m fine, thanks.”
He looks at me, clearly unconvinced, shrugs and goes.
“Dangerous?” I hiss. “Compared to what? Being strung up like a carcass by a man who has always promised me that when I say so, it stops.… But it didn’t stop, did it? I knew I’d upset you, so I allowed you to ‘discipline’ me. And your promise has always been that when I’ve had enough, it goes no further….” I run out of words and settle for staring out of the window, trying to control my breathing.
Michael tries to slide his hand over mine on the table, but I pull my hand away. “You think I don’t know about dangerous?” I continue. “You have no idea about me…”
“Please, Charlotte,” says Michael, “If you insist on leaving, then we won’t try to stop you, but at least let us drive you to the station and see you safely off.”
___________________________
The drive to the rail station is a strained silence. As the car pulls up, James is staring at the floor. Michael simply says, “Charlotte, please don’t go.”
I don’t reply. I don’t trust myself to speak. Swallowing hard against my tight throat, I step out of the car, haul my pack from the boot, and without looking back, walk into the station.
________________________
The work is crummy, and I stink. Each night I come back ‘home’, reeking of greasy food and stale beer. But it’s work, and I earn enough to make the rent on my dismal little flat. If I can cover living expenses by working, then the cash I have in the bank should see me through for a good while. Text books, field trips; occasional extra tuition fees; the costs add up, but if I’m careful, I should manage.
But I am so tired. The long hours working in the cheap bar leave me exhausted, unable to think straight, unable to concentrate on anything academic. The advance work I had intended to do before the next semester falls away. I want to change my course, and it will be almost impossible to do if I haven’t completed the catch-up work before the main academic year.
Struggling with a text I am trying to make sense of, I give it up as a bad job. Tired already, the poor lighting is giving me a terrible headache.
And it is almost time for my next shift.
__________________________________
In the bar, I serve tables, trying to dodge around the groping hands of louts who think that I am on the menu. I slapped one once, and it almost lost me my job. “Hey, Pete was just fooling around…” was the attitude of my boss, Ben.
Take orders, serve tables, clear tables, load dishwasher, clean tables…. it goes on and on…
I am cleaning stinking grease off a counter. Figures move close, to occupy a table. “I’ll just be a moment.” I say. “Nearly done here.” I pull out my pad and pencil. “What can I get you?”
“Two coffees, please.” says a familiar voice. I startle, looking up to see Michael and James.
“Mind if we sit here?” asks James.
“It’s a public place, and it’s not my bar….”
I am interrupted by Ben. “Hey, Jenny, Table Four needs serving too.”
“Yes, Boss.” I say wearily.
Both men look shocked. “Jenny?” asks Michael.
Hands on hips, I stare at them. “’Jennifer’ is what it says on my passport. ‘Charlotte’ is a fantasy, remember? She always was.”
I turn on my heel, and ask Samantha to serve them instead, while I go deal with Table Four.
__________________________________
Shift over, I return to the flat, collapsing onto my bed. I should read a textbook I’m working on, but I want to sleep.
Still fully clothed, I drop onto the blankets, and pull the duvet over myself, trying to ignore the smell of mushrooms that clothes everything in here. Barely have I closed my eyes, when there is a knock at the door.
For a moment, I simply stare at the ceiling. I know who is on the other side of the door. Perhaps if I ignore it, stay quiet, they will go away.
Michael’s voice. “Charlotte, Jenny, whatever you’re calling yourself; open up. We know you’re in there.”
I get up and open the door. “You followed me? What are you now? My stalkers?”
Michael looks angry, James upset. Both push past me into the miserable room.
“You’re living here?” demands James. “In an area like this?”
“And working in that dump of a café.” says Michael. “Why?”
“A girl’s gotta eat and pay rent, and to do that, she has to work.” I snap.
“In this miserable place?” demands James. “What happened to the money you had? And the money I sent you?”
“The money I had, I still have, because I am going to need it to fund the next year or so. And I don’t know anything about any money that you sent me.”
“I paid it to your bank, to see you alright.” He sees my blank look. “You haven’t checked your account recently?”
“No need. I’m living on my earnings. And if you sent money, I’ll damn well send it back. I am not available for purchase!”
Michael is silent. “Charlotte,” says James, holding out his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just want to know that you’re okay. Not living like…” He waves his hand around the room. “…. not living like this.”
“It’s my life! My choices! Now, Go to Hell! The pair of you. I have to go out now.”
I am lying. I have nowhere to go. I want nothing more than to sleep, but I need to escape from this situation.
“Will you please leave, both of you. I am going out now.”
They step out of the room. I pull the door shut on the latch and walk away. As I descend the urine-stinking staircase, I still hear them, talking quietly.
Outside, I have no clear idea of where I am going. I have left my bag, purse and money in the flat. Even to buy a cup of coffee, I need to go back inside. but Michael and James are still in there, and I do not want to return until they leave.
I stand out on the dark street, wishing I had at least thought to bring a jacket.
“Hello, Darlin’” says a voice. “What do you charge? I’ve got thirty on me…”
The man is tall, and I can’t make out his features. “Sorry,” I mutter, turning away. “You’ve made a mistake.”
But as I turn, there is another. “Well, I can add another fifty to the pot, Love. C’mon. Two of us together eh? And you’ll not need to work again tonight.”
“No, sorry,” I reply. “But I’m not who you’re looking for.”
He grabs me by the arm, pulling me towards him, his friend moving closer, crowding me in. “Well, maybe we’ll just have it for free then.” Close up, his breath is sour. His clothes reek of unwashed body and poverty.
The two of them press me back against the wall. I am struggling, fighting back. “Get off me!” One of them I might have had a chance with, but two of them….
“Clap your hand over her mouth. Where shall we take her?”
“The alley round the back. No-one goes down there…”
I am trying to scream, but a hand is firmly over my mouth. Dragging me all the way, my arms pinned, I can do nothing as the two haul me into the dark alley entrance.
“I’ll hold her. You go first….”
And now, Michael and James are here. “What the fuck d’you think you’re doing with her?”
As the men square up to fight, I am flung to one side, slung sideways. Losing my balance and my footing, I try to roll to break my fall, but my head smashes into the brick wall and….
_____________________________________
The question seems to come from nowhere, a voice in my head, as I stare at a blank white space.
How do I feel?
I have a crashing headache.
Trembling, I touch my head, to find it bandaged. I try to sit up, but my stomach rebels, retching, threatening to bring up its contents.
“No. Lie still. You have concussion. The doctor will be back soon to take another look at you.”
Then my vision clears. The blank whiteness is a ceiling. Moving my head carefully, in case it falls off my neck, I look across the room. My Master…. James… is sitting there, leaning forward on to his knees. Michael is standing behind him.
Rolling my eyes around the room, it suddenly makes sense. I am back in the Beach House, in the four-poster bed the three of us shared.
“You kidnapped me?” I would like to be incredulous, but it would take too much energy. My voice is weak. I can barely speak above a whisper.
“Don’t go into a panic.” says Michael, holding up a hand and pointing. “James is sleeping next door that way, and I’m sleeping next door that way. This is your room.”
Again, I try to sit up. The roiling in my stomach seems a little less.
“Want a drink?” says James. “Need to pee?”
My bladder is sending urgent signals. “I need the bathroom, yes.” I try to stand, but my knees buckle. Michael sweeps me up in his arms, carrying me to the bathroom.
“I can manage.” I snap, as he deposits me.
“No, you can’t.” he says. “Let go of your damn pride. With some of the things you and I have done together, d’you think that answering nature is something that should embarrass you?” But he pointedly turns his back.
“You done?” he asks after a minute.
“Yes.”
He picks me up again and puts me back in the bed.
“Doctor’s here.” says James.
___________________________________
Half an hour later, the doctor has looked me over and pronounced no serious damage, no fractures, or other lasting damage.