‘Have you got a property that you’re moving into?’
‘No. I’m going to spend the day looking.’
‘Then spend the day looking and, whether you find somewhere or not, you can call on me tonight.’
She thought of arguing and then decided it would be counterproductive. If she didn’t find accommodation, she could call on Hart and there would be a chance to sleep in a warm bed. She wouldn’t wake to find strange naked women standing in her kitchen or going through her wardrobe. She wouldn’t have to face Donny’s animosity. And, most importantly of all, there’d be a chance to be with Hart.
‘You’re too domineering, Mr Hart.’
‘A man can never be too domineering,’ Hart contradicted. ‘Do I take it I shall be seeing you this evening, Ms McLaughlin?’
‘Yes,’ she said eventually. ‘And ask Kali to save me a couple of slices of her carrot cake.’
He chuckled. ‘Is it me or Kali’s carrot cake that you’re wanting to see?’
‘I have appetites that can be satisfied by yourself and carrot cake, Mr Hart. I don’t believe that my relationship with one means I have to refrain from the other, does it?’
‘That’s a dangerous argument,’ he said solemnly. ‘But we’ll discuss that later when I see you this evening and when you’ve had a chance to get yourself sorted with accommodation. Call me if you need anything, Ms McLaughlin.’
‘Thank you, Mr Hart.’
She hung up the phone.
She checked to make sure no text messages had come in whilst she had been talking to Hart. She was still concerned that Charlotte hadn’t yet responded. Common sense told her that Charlotte was probably still asleep somewhere, or she was awake but her mobile was switched off, broken, lost or simply stuck in some out-of-service area.
Whatever the reason for the lack of communication, Trudy knew there was nothing she could do if her friend refused to respond to messages. She figured Charlotte would get in touch eventually and worrying about the situation would be counterproductive.
* * *
She spent the day touring a variety of potential flats.
The financial subsidies in place from Charlotte’s parents made Eldorado a difficult accommodation to beat. The properties she looked around were either too expensive or situated in unpleasant neighbourhoods or lacking in some other major way. She went round four flats she couldn’t afford, one extortionate house share where there was a marijuana plant growing in the hall and one barely affordable flat where the walls reverberated from the trundle of passing trains.
Whilst she thanked the letting agent, and told him she would consider all the properties and get back to him, she had internally labelled this last one as Central Station because of the number of trains that sounded as though they were passing through.
By five o’clock Trudy felt as though she had wasted an entire day.
Charlotte had not returned her calls. Donny had made no attempt to contact her to offer an explanation or an apology for his behaviour. She knew there was only one thing she could do to bolster her spirits.
She went into the toilet of the final apartment she was viewing, sat on the closed lid of the loo, and sent a text.
Bill, I’m now wearing a skirt with no panties. Do you think I need punishing?
The response came through a moment later.
Damn right you need punishing. You forgot to call me MR HART. Be here in half an hour.
She replied with a three word text. It was thrilling enough to make her loins ache with unbidden need for him.
Yes, Mr Hart.
Chapter 18
She hugged him as soon as he opened the door. It was the second time they had greeted each other in this way and she wanted it to become a ritual. There was little that Trudy believed could be more comforting than Hart’s strong embrace and the gruff welcome of being in his arms. She could drink in the scent of his cologne, so rich in citrus tones it reminded her of the muffin that had brought them together. She could feel his warmth and the powerful muscular body contained beneath his sensible-yet-stylish clothes.
‘What do you need to cheer you up?’
As he asked the question he was studying her lips with mingled expressions of concern and understanding. His shoulders were set and his jaw was squared as though he was ready to solve any problem that had ever dared to crease a frown into her brow.
‘I can sort you a Scotch. I can rustle up a meal. I can –’
‘I need to be your spankmaid, Mr Hart.’
His mouth momentarily worked in silence. She wasn’t sure but she suspected the bulge at the front of his pants pulsed as she said that final word: spankmaid.
He licked his lips. ‘Is that really what you want, Ms McLaughlin?’
‘Yes, Mr Hart.’
She rubbed the palm of one hand against his groin. He was hard and ready for her. Her eyes grew wide and she allowed her grin to broaden for him. It came as a surprise when he took hold of her wrist and pushed her hand away.
‘No,’ he said firmly.
She was taken aback and tried to pull away.
He maintained a firm hold on her wrist. ‘Don’t think you can turn up here and excite me with a rub of your hand. If we’re going to play games, you’ll play by my rules and you’ll play how I say. Do you understand?’
She swallowed twice and then raised her gaze to meet his eyes.
‘Yes, Mr Hart.’
‘Very good, Ms McLaughlin.’ His smile was curt as he added, ‘Undress and go and stand beneath that main ornamental archway.’
‘Undress?’ She considered him warily. ‘You want me out there? Naked?’
‘Out there and naked,’ he agreed.
‘Outdoors?’
His smile was flecked with only the slightest suggestion of cruelty. ‘Don’t you want to play by my rules, Ms McLaughlin?’
She didn’t want to hesitate but it was impossible not to voice reservations. The pathway to his home at the back of Boui-Boui was not secure. Any early visiting customer could accidentally walk into the garden area behind Boui-Boui’s main entrance. This evening they might accidentally walk into the garden area and discover Hart and his sous involved in an intimate act. Members of staff forever walked through Hart’s garden when they arrived early. Some of them used the area around the pond as an illicit smoking area. Others tried to harvest fresh herbs from Hart’s herbarium. None of them needed to see Boui-Boui’s new sous naked and being punished by Hart. Admittedly, the restaurant was still another hour or more from opening. And Trudy knew it would be a good thirty minutes before the earliest of staff members was expected to show up. But she didn’t think the idea of an employee arriving early was unheard of. And she desperately wanted to tell Hart as much.
Instead, she lowered her gaze and nodded the assent he had demanded.
‘Yes, Mr Hart.’
Her cheeks burned crimson as she began to undress. She put her phone in her purse and placed the two items on the floor by the front door. Glaring at him, trying to show defiance in the silence of her tight-lipped expression, she plucked at the buttons on her jacket and then shrugged the garment from her shoulders.
Casually, she dropped the jacket on top of her purse.
With the same stilted posture she snatched the buttons free from her blouse and tugged her arms from its sleeves. The late afternoon air was cool on her exposed skin. She supposed it felt particularly cold in contrast to the heat of her blushes and the volcanic temperature of her arousal.
She could hear cars buzzing past. They were faraway and she was shielded from their view by tall grass and walls of trees. But still, the idea that each vehicle was filled with coachloads of voyeurs, all craning to stare out of the vehicle’s windows and leer at the bare flesh she was exposing, would not leave her thoughts.
Her heartbeat always raced when she was in Hart’s company.
This time she could feel her pulse pounding so fast it left her lightheaded.
She unhooked her bra and
allowed her modest breasts to tumble free. She placed the bra on top of the blouse, jacket and purse and turned to face Hart.
Her jaw was tilted defiantly.
Hart had raised an eyebrow when her breasts were exposed. If he was impressed by the sight, or pleased with the obedience, his expression didn’t say as much. His age-weathered features were an impervious mask. His eyes were bereft of emotion. If there was a smile playing on his lips it was the same soft grin he always wore whilst in her presence. He looked inscrutable.
‘Please remove the rest of your clothes, Ms McLaughlin.’
Trudy nodded and unfastened her skirt. She allowed it to puddle at her ankles. When she stepped out of it, and then placed the garment neatly with the rest of her possessions, she stood before him nearly naked.
She had already removed her panties.
She suspected Hart was quite happy for her to continue wearing stockings and heels. That knowledge made her throw her shoulders arrogantly back, as though she was proud to be displaying herself for him.
‘Is this sufficient, Mr Hart?’
Hart nodded curt approval. ‘The archway, please, Ms McLaughlin.’
Silently, she walked to the ivy-covered archway he had indicated. Every footstep seemed to crunch loudly on the gravel path. She could feel the muscles at the tops of her legs straining to keep her balance. She could feel Hart’s gaze lingering on those muscles, as though his interest was so intense it was a physical caress.
She looked back and asked, ‘Do you just want me to stand beneath this, Mr Hart?’
‘Turn around and grab the hand holds.’
He was removing his belt as he walked towards her. She wondered if his pants were going to come off next and they were likely to enjoy a late afternoon session of outdoor intimacy. It was not what she had expected from him and she wasn’t sure how that sort of sexual activity fitted in with the expectations of power play that she associated with him. But she liked that he was always able to surprise her with something a little different.
‘Spread your legs a little wider,’ he said, slapping lightly at her inner thighs.
The harsh contact was more than she anticipated.
Trudy gasped and did as he commanded. She was naked and had her arms high in the air, clutching hidden handholds within the ivy-covered archway. She had her legs spread wide apart and she could not recall ever feeling more exposed.
Her view from beneath the archway gave her a glimpse at the front of Boui-Boui. She couldn’t see all of the restaurant’s façade. She guessed there was a strong chance she would hear approaching vehicles long before anyone was able to catch her and Hart as they played outdoors. But still, the feeling of being publically displayed and vulnerable heightened her growing arousal.
She glanced back over her shoulder to see if Hart was ready to make love to her.
He had removed the belt from his pants. He held the buckle in one hand and curled a length of the leather around one fist. The remaining length of belt, a two-foot strap she guessed, hung from his hand.
Her inner muscles clutched as though she was in the paroxysms of an orgasm. The breath left her body as every nerve-ending tingled with the prospect of being struck by the stiff leather belt. The lips of her sex were instantly moistened. She could imagine them dripping with a rush of fluid arousal.
‘You’re not –’
‘No,’ he broke in. ‘You don’t tell me what I am going to do, Ms McLaughlin,’ Hart warned. ‘And you don’t tell me what I’m NOT going to do. Just face the front and enjoy the punishment.’ He didn’t wait for her response before slashing the belt swift against her backside.
The pain was so intense that, for an instant, Trudy wasn’t sure it had happened. The flat of the leather kissed her backside. She heard the harsh smack. She felt her cheek quivering beneath the blow.
But there didn’t seem to be any initial pain.
It was only a moment later when the discomfort began to spread. Then a rush of acid blistered through her cheek. The sting was so severe she found herself tugging hard on the handholds of the ivy-covered archway.
She chugged breath as her body acclimatised to the pain.
‘Too much for you, Ms McLaughlin?’ he asked sweetly.
She could barely hear him. Her thoughts were focused on trying not to let him see that the blow had almost been more than she could tolerate.
Almost.
‘Too much?’ She made a valiant effort to keep her tone even and unaffected. Glancing back over her shoulder she considered him with a leisurely gaze and smiled easily. ‘I hadn’t even realised you’d begun, Mr Hart.’
He smiled.
Before she could return the grin he was slashing again at her exposed backside. He delivered the blows with a lazy swish of his arm. The leather stung each time it connected with her flesh. The pain was a savage bite, tugging at her skin and exciting a rush of eager sensations that seemed to focus around her loins.
And she refused to let him know that the pain bordered on being more than she could endure. Each time his belt slapped against her rear she stiffened and tolerated the satisfying thrill. With each kiss from the leather, Trudy closed her eyes and allowed the extreme sensations to burn against her skin and make her flesh acutely responsive.
Her buttocks had been reddened by the first blows.
The embarrassment of being naked outdoors, and suffering his punishment in the open air, provided twin barbs of discomfort that left her giddy. As he began to work on her with increased vigour, Trudy wondered if he was going to force her to the point of climax through using the belt alone.
The idea made the muscles of her sex clench eagerly.
She yearned to glance over her shoulder and look at the marks that his blows had inflicted. She could imagine the skin being reddened or broken or bruised by the slash of each belt stroke. The idea of bearing such brands from his discipline left her sex flooded with fresh excitement.
He slashed the strap across the tops of her legs and then cross-hatched fresh marks against her buttocks. She grew breathless as her body inched closer to the point of release.
Then she heard the clatter of his belt buckle being thrown to the ground.
‘Get inside, Ms McLaughlin.’
‘Yes, Mr Hart.’
She tried to move and for one unbearable moment she didn’t think she’d be able to do as he asked. Her hands had hooked themselves so tight against the handholds of the archway that it took an effort of concentration to unfurl her knuckles and release the hold. Her legs seemed to have locked in position and she feared, if she did manage to turn or bend her knees, she would collapse onto the gravel pathway in a quivering heap of grateful satisfaction.
‘Do it now, Ms McLaughlin.’
She found the strength to move. Her heels crunched gravel as she made her way from the archway through to the door of his cottage. He had told her to go inside so she did as he instructed. Feeling as though she already knew what he wanted from her, Trudy walked through to his kitchen and took up the same position she had adopted the previous day.
‘Very good, Ms McLaughlin. You remembered.’
His words made her smile. As though she would ever forget this.
She stood in front of the kitchen sink, two tiles back and with her feet placed two tiles apart. Her buttocks burnt in a glorious blaze of discomfort. The effort that came from stretching forward slightly was enough to rekindle every painful stripe he had landed across her rear. She could not recall ever feeling so aware of her excitement or so aroused and in need of sexual satisfaction.
Hart slapped one hand against her left buttock. He grabbed the right buttock with a punishing, biting grip and pulled her backwards. She glanced back at him and was pleased to see he had removed his clothes since entering the house. His lean body was hard and ready for her.
The centre of her sex was positioned roughly over his erection.
He was more than ready for her and, when he pushed forward, his length slipped easily i
nto the syrup-soft confines of her sex.
They both groaned.
She had no idea whether the sex was over instantaneously, or if it lasted for a delightful aeon. She only knew the whole episode was a powerful and fulfilling experience.
He held her against himself, his hands seeming to know which parts of her punished cheeks should be clutched to inflict the most delicious pain. His hands were strong, rough and callused. He held her with a combination of sensitivity and power that made her wonder if he might be psychic with the way he seemed to know what she wanted before she knew herself.
At one point, his fingers had slipped to the cleft of her sex. He held her in the cradle of his loins, pushing his hardness deep into her wetness whilst his knuckles trapped the pulsing bud of her clitoris. When he began to squeeze the bead of flesh back and forth, tugging it as though he was jerking off the world’s tiniest erection, Trudy knew that she would never be able to experience sex with another man without thinking it was a pale shadow of what she could be enjoying.
By the time they had finished Trudy could feel tears pouring down her cheeks as she realised this was the level of sexual satisfaction she had been craving throughout her life and never managed to achieve.
Hart pulled out of her and went to dispose of the condom. When he came back he had her clothes and purse and placed them on the kitchen counter nearby. After kissing her gently on the cheek and telling her to get dressed he busied himself with the espresso machine. She noticed that he was able to transform from being the austere Mr Hart to becoming the approachable Bill in the blink of an eye.
‘Have you made up your mind yet about my job offer?’
Trudy was about to reply when her phone rang.
Ordinarily she would have ignored the call because of the importance of the face-to-face conversation she was enjoying with Bill. But she hadn’t yet spoken to Charlotte and one glance at the caller display was enough to tell her that this was the call she had been waiting for.
A Taste of Passion Page 12