by E. J. Wood
‘No, your flaws are devastatingly attractive.’
Guy pushes the box aside and pulls the covers from my almost naked body. I gasp and clutch myself between my legs embarrassed. Why I’m embarrassed I don’t know, after all we have endured and experienced with one another in the short space of time knowing each other. I bite my lips and widen my eyes anticipating his approach and his lips part.
‘Everyone can enjoy the wicked pleasure of chocolate but we shall continue that later.’
I gasp. His hands grab my wrists either side splaying them above my head.
‘Don’t move, understand?’ he demands. ‘Now what do you say?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes what?’
‘Yes Master?’
‘Good girl.’
‘I want to tie you up,’ I gesture.
‘One day, but you aren’t ready.’
‘Ready for what?’
‘Ready to control your urges, you are a loose cannon.’
‘What do you mean loose cannon?’
His index finger plants itself firmly over my lips silencing me as my body writhes beneath him. Guy shuffles back kissing my stomach as he moves away from me.
‘I’m going to take these off,’ slipping off my white lace panties tossing them aside and clasping both ankles and prying them apart so I’m naked, vulnerable and splayed as a star fish tying them to the corners of the bed with a silk thread. My heart races pounding outside my chest.
‘Guy please …’ I beg, I can’t help recall the frightful night in the dungeon, do I trust Guy, after what happened? Bit fucking late to be asking that now!
‘Keep still,’ his smile meeting the corners of his eyes, his eyes ablaze with furry? fire? excitement? I can’t tell anymore.
The thrill affects my breathing becoming increasingly rapid and my nipples harden as he stands before me undoing his jeans. The sound of the zipper a familiar sound, slipping them to the ground with his underpants in one graceful manoeuvre displaying his glorious naked body removes any doubt from my mind.
‘May I request a few minutes to properly prepare myself for Master?’
‘Amelia, have you been doing some research?’
‘I have,’ my eyes darting to the book shelf across the room.
He leans over his shoulder noticing the Sado book.
‘You’ve been a nosey parker! I noticed the other night it had been left out you know, find anything interesting?’
‘Yes Master.’
‘Always so eager for information, I will have to punish you for this.’
I gulp, ‘I thought you did that last night?’ I mumble before clearing my throat, ‘anything Master.’
He reaches into his side drawer and removes a black silk eye mask securing it at the back of my head. The room is suddenly dark, pitch black and my other senses heighten, deprived of vision. The chiming of church bells and wondrous drumming fills the room with dulcet tones of a female singer, then a choir of male voices echoing, bouncing from the walls with the surround sound. My lips part.
‘Vide cor meum.’ I whisper.
‘Yes, see my heart, Dante’s La Vita Nuova.’
My eyes close beneath the blindfold and I’m swept away, my skin dimpling beneath his touch, his soft caress, his gentle kisses, smooth strokes, hard thrusts and angelic odour. I’m lost in paradise.
***
‘I’d like you to wear the dress tomorrow evening, that’s if you would join me?’
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘It is our annual Charity Gala in aid of the Gorillas.’
‘Ah yes and “Guy.”’
‘Lest we forget “Guy the Gorilla.”’ Guy winks remembering our great day together stroking the back of his head.
‘He had good aim,’ I laugh.
‘I will give you good aim,’ and he rolls me onto my back pinning my arms either side of my head straddling above me.
‘Let me try, trust me,’ I beg.
‘I’m not sure about this.’
‘As long as I have this’ I point between my legs ‘and these’ I point to both Pinky and Perky, you men will always be at our whim.’ I smile leaving Guy gloriously naked with his hands above his head.
‘Inside every pervert beats Tolstoy’s heart.’
‘Touché.’
‘Now let’s see what is inside this little mystery side drawer shall we?’
Guy’s mouth opens and I snap towards him silencing him with my finger and open the drawer.
‘Why are you not fully undressed Guy?’
He opens his mouth again but I silence him giving him seconds to strip.
‘Amelia.’
‘Hush, you don’t have a speaking part. I want you erect now.’
Guy is most pleasing and I smile with glee hugging myself inside. My subconscious winks and pats me on the back at my bravery. I could get used to this. I watch him undress the little clothing he has and plan my train of thought into my next move. Reading that book enlightened me into another world, a world I wanted to try. I got my mental note pad out and started ticking the list off. If he isn’t already erect, he must make himself or face ridicule and punishment.
‘Don’t look at me!’ – make sure his eyes are looking down and that he mustn’t speak unless instructed to. Tick, safe word – shit.
‘What do you want to use as a safe word?’ I question.
‘Safe word? Amelia you are scaring me?’
‘Chocolate it is, don’t make me gag you!’
His smile is infatuating and I can’t be the hard core Mistress I aspire to. I am ordinary looking, mirrors lie, and photographs lie. I am what I am, nothing special certainly not very domineering. I’d have to work at this. To my surprise I find a cock ring and pull it out the drawer inspecting it closely.
‘I don’t think I need that,’ he laughs.
‘Maybe I want you to last longer.’
His eyes widen and his smile corners up at the sides amused at my comment.
‘I think my respectable hard-on is sufficient unless you are wanting a god damn war hammer Amelia?’
‘Perhaps! How does it work?’ I laugh.
‘A mans balls tend to wander wherever the hell they want, they retreat sure but it sometimes feels better knowing that they are not only outside your body but being held by a newton of force, having a ring keeps them out of fray and constricts just enough blood to keep me hard a little longer but most importantly keeps my rig pronounced. I have never really felt the need for it if I am honest.’
‘That’s because you have couture bollocks.’
‘A what bollocks?’
‘Couture, haute couture, it’s French for high sewing, or high fashion, exclusive custom fitted clothing, like your testicles, made from high quality, sewn with extreme attention to detail and finished by the most capable seamstress. Haute is high, like your little gems, they have been tailored specifically for your measurements and body stance. Ever wondered what your teddy bear seam was?’
His eyes brim and tears of mirth come with a smile tugging at his lips breaking into a grin enveloping his face exuding a chuckle laced with amusement as bursts of laughter echo the room.
‘I think Amelia, the thunderbolt has struck.’
‘Pardon me?’
‘Colpo di fulmine, it is Italian for thunderbolt, they say love is like a thunderbolt, once struck your life is irrevocably changed. So powerful and intense it cannot be denied and you cannot go back.’
CHAPTER 17
I step out of the car with cameras flashing everywhere and people I don't even know are yelling. Thoughts are running through my mind, and I'm thinking am I actually here!? This is amazing!
‘Come,’ Guy gestures grabbing my hand. ‘I want to introduce you,’ he nods, smiles and waves at the paparazzi.
‘There are so many cameras.’ The amateur tone in my voice pauses Guy as he turns towards me.
‘They are here for the Charity Gala.’
‘MR DAVIDSON,’ o
ne shouts from afar.
I frown as a pushy photo journalist starts to hound Guy and others entering the building.
‘Who’s your date Guy? Guy smile, let’s get this shot.’
Guy pulls me tight clutching me around my waist to pose for a photo.
The Plaza frontage is magical and the night’s sky is black as ebony, dark, black as if a black piece of velvet had been laid over the sky and sprinkled with shinning sapphire gems and drowns out the surrounding noise. Suddenly all is quiet and the sky is inky blackness, deep, and perfectly pristine over-shadowing you with a sense of eternity.
‘Hello,’ I whisper with a slow wave of my hand, connecting to the universe not fully comprehending my whereabouts. I smile as the cool clean air takes my breath away with “One Republic Counting Stars” playing in my mind. Guy looks down towards me ignoring the bellows and turns graciously towards me noticing my momentary pause in astonishment of the beautiful serene night instead of the paparazzi. He clasps my hands and brings them to his mouth planting soft tender kisses with his warm breath as a velvet wave.
‘“The moon shines bright: in such a night as this, when the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees.”’
‘“Yes my Bard, thou’ what you quote is of fair truth,”’ I smile, the corners of my mouth meeting my eyes. His eyes are wide, open and gazing into mine.
‘Quoting Shakespeare, I’m impressed,’ I smile.
‘You should be.’
‘Guy, who’s the date?’ another shouts, cameras flashing brighter than the night’s sky aloft with diamonds. I grasp the hem of my gown and make my way inside close to Guy’s side, my stomach aching from nerves of anticipation. This isn’t your scene Amelia – my subconscious whispers. It’s too bloody late now for your unfavourable opinion. As we are ushered into the great room, the doors close behind us silencing the hounding paparazzi. I gush.
‘The ballroom is exquisite Guy.’
‘You’ve seen nothing yet,’ he tugs.
My heart fluttering and nerves take over, my stomach turning somersaults as Guy nods and smiles at guests as we enter the grand ball room.
‘It’s stunning!’
‘Not as stunning as you Amelia, the dress suits you.’
‘You don’t look so bad yourself,’ I clasp the button on his jet black jacket and look up towards him, with our eyes meeting eyes.
The flooring is marble, a setting rich by its own charm. Meticulous and gold accents boast impressive detailing to the architecture. Figurative paintings I think by Renaissance adorn the ceiling much like a church illuminated by stunning crystal chandeliers in the stunning, elegant and jewel of a room. A champagne bar displaying from the night before the familiar and world’s most loved Krug Clos Du Mesnil, captures the glamour of the night, not that I could ever afford it. Guests gather around taking it by the glass enjoying their champagne soaked soirees. The atmosphere is in good temper, the hum of voices intoxicating feeling satisfied among your fellow beings sweeping away the worries of day to day agitations.
‘Mr Davidson.’
‘Harold.’ Guy replies.
Guy’s hand envelopes Harold; holding him tight in a manly embrace.
‘Harold, this is Dr Amelia Sharpe, my girlfriend. Amelia, this is Harold, Harold Finnegan, the Charity event organiser and a long term friend.’ GIRLFRIEND? I blush
‘Nice to meet you,’ I place my hand out front to have it swept up and kissed gently by Harold, his smile renders him instantly likeable.
‘A doctor? In what field and the pleasure is all mine my dear.’
Harold is about six foot two and two hundred pounds, roughly mid forties. He has high cheekbones and a chiselled jaw that tapers into a cleft chin. His large dark eyes are set against luminescent whites and his voice that of dulcet tones which embrace the air like the evening perfume of night flowers, a mellifluous voice, yes, a voice with smooth rich fluidness.
‘Pathology, where is your accent from Mr Finnegan?’
‘Call me Harold please, Oxford, the United Kingdom.’
‘A pleasure to meet you, Sir.’
Guy clasps my hand tighter cueing me we are to move on.
‘Pardon me Harold; I believe we have many more guests to see.’
‘Certainly.’
The room is offering what appears to be truly exquisite food and drink, elegant service with proud staff demonstrating a commitment to guests with gracious and skilled service that creates the perfect ambiance.
‘Dance with me,’ Guy begs.
‘I don’t dance,’ I mumble.
‘I say you do, ballroom dancing is just a conversation between two people. Bodies are the communication and movement is the tone.’
‘Easier said than done,’ I gulp.
‘The rhythm is the speed and the dancers are the topic. Nothing in the world matters except us and what we are doing. Don’t worry about other people, it’s just you and I and the floor, follow my lead.’
The ballroom is infatuating. The lust and passion that comes with it is excruciating as Guy runs his hand around my back grasping me close to his body. Initially, it was considered controversial due to the fact the two dancers were in close contact and the monarch at the time thought it rude and impolite to let a man get that close to a woman when not engaged or married, but no one blinked an eye. How things have changed. The collective energy in the room is immense but everyone just fades away.
‘You referred to me as your girlfriend?’
‘Did I?’ his brows rise and he tucks his head on top of my shoulder as we swish and swoon around the marble flooring. I rest my head against his warm embrace and notice a gathering around a banquet, pausing I nod my head in its general direction.
The banquet is huge ranging over several tables and my stomach aches for some gut busting bliss. The waiters are working seamlessly with one another treating us to warm towels and jugs of water making sure our glasses are never empty. Scanning my eyes over the array of seafood, I take note of what is recognisable, shrimp, crab, oysters, fish, endless amounts of Dungeness crab legs and then there are the mussels. I gander over towards them and stare at their plump orange bellies having always been fascinated at these odd looking creatures with their beards and all…..hmmm bearded clams! Being the crab whore that I am, I reach out for the crab legs coated in a butter drizzle, watching my dress as I reach across the huge dessert platter. I’m not usually a dessert person and it takes some considerable restraint when in Guy’s presence – having a sweet tooth. I see him eyeing the decadent chocolate sponge.
‘Straight in for dessert?’ I smile at Guy.
‘Of course, I’m not bothering with all those fish lips and bum holes.’
I gag at his comment and almost spit half of my crab leg out in front of me as he grabs a side plate and fork for a slice of cake.
‘Stunning,’ a voice sounds from behind me; both Guy and I turn simultaneously at the voice. Guy’s tongue flickers in and out trying to catch crumbs attaching themselves to his luscious lips as he brings the plate closer, to avoid dropping any on the floor. His eyes look upwards and the whites gleam bright under the chandelier. I wipe away any crab that may have escaped during Guy’s outburst and turn to see Harold. His eyes are fixated at my lower half tilting his head upwards to meet mine. His arm waves outwardly palm faced up gesturing the display of seafood and nods.
‘Have you tried the lime ginger beurre blanc?’ he begs.
‘We have only just started,’ I answer before Guy could get a word in edgeways.
‘Do try it; it’s their best kept secret if you ask me.’
‘I’m more of a meat eater.’ I exclaim.
‘Then the cilantro lime ribs and the dessert bar …’
I stop Harold in his tracks; Guy is quiet, enjoying his chocolate sponge. When he gets going there are no interruptions.
‘That would be Guy’s department.’ I wink at Guy.
Guy swallows hard and places his plate on the banquet table dabbing his mouth with a linen
serviette.
‘And where is Mrs Finnegan this evening?’ Guy asks swiftly changing subject.
‘Olivia is over by the Krug, you know how she loves a nice bubbly.’ They both turn towards the champagne bar and a tall brunette with long flowing hair and a navy blue evening gown waves. Mr Finnegan and Guy smile and she waltzes over embracing Guy, close, friendly; a little too friendly. Her smile stretches from side to side and she greets her husband in a professional manner ignoring me.
‘Olivia, this is Guy’s girlfriend, Amelia.’
‘Dr Amelia Sharpe,’ I correct and I lunge my hand forward. Mrs Finnegan stands clasping her hand round the champagne glass and stares at my hand hesitating slightly before shaking it like a wet fish. Suddenly I shrink in size and feel an inch high. She has rather a dark sense of humour, Schadenfraude like, laughing at every pun and discusses her accomplishments and high ambitions relishing in the male attention and has a stupid laugh. I sigh deeply and turn my attention back to the impressive banquet, leaving them to discuss politics, never to complain at a free meal but fish lips and bum holes? He could be right as I poke as the array of raw fish. Who knows!
Her stupid laugh jolts me and my spine shivers as I scowl over my shoulder watching her flirt with my man. I hate her for her amazingly bodacious body, perfect pearly celebrity white smile, bright eyes and manicured nails. But her conical shaped tits and faultless dentition have nothing on me. Who am I kidding? My breathing is becoming harsh and hollow and anger rises swirling in my mind, my hands twitching wanting to wrap them round her throat as she laughs her stupid laugh and my lip curls to keep myself from outrage. I clear my throat and Guy turns towards me.
‘Everything OK my angel?’
‘Yes, you carry on, I see your having fun without me,’ I smirk under my breath.
‘Sorry?’ his attention is solely on me with Mrs Finnegan still nattering on her nonsense.
‘Jesus Amelia, you aren’t jealous are you? Your tone is very dark.’
‘No.’ How he didn’t see the acid practically dripping from the corners of my mouth is beyond me.
‘I just feel a little out of place here and uncomfortable. I don’t understand all that politics.’