“No,” she said, shaking her head, “it was before my time here. However… Barlow told me a lot about your father.”
“Yeah? Could you tell me?”
“Let’s go up to the house and get comfier. My ass has turned as wooden as these stools.”
“Sure,” he agreed, and as they left the room, they turned into a hidden corridor and towards brighter lights.
After travelling a hundred metres or so, they walked up some old, rickety wooden staircase and stepped onto black and white tiles.
“Wow.”
“Yes. Welcome home.”
“I guess,” he mumbled, staring around at the full height reception hall, the winding staircase, carved mahogany balustrade and large pieces of art reminiscent of those found in Chatsworth.
“Follow me.”
He walked with her to a wood-panelled drawing room full of books and antiques. The lights low, it seemed a hole of a room, but for the flames flickering in the large built-in fireplace, shedding light on all the little ornaments around them; a disused grandfather clock, an essential globe liquor cabinet, then a pull-down sideboard for overspill. The wood carvings in the mantelpiece and decorative panelling above were exquisite. He couldn’t believe he owned all this, not when she swanned around as if it were all hers.
She gestured at two, heavy-set leather wingbacks by the dying fire. He suggested rebuilding the fire but before she said either yes or no, she was on her hands and knees rebuilding it herself.
“Why do you wear riding clothes?” he asked, feeling braver.
She poured port from a decanter and handed him a small glassful.
“I was a horsewoman. I really do know how to use a crop.”
“So, you are gentry?”
“Yes. I grew up nearby, in Hampshire.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She flicked her eyes up to his. “Barlow and my father were friends. One time, we were all at Ascot together and Barlow asked me if I knew how to use a crop on men as well as horses. He said there was a large salary in it for me.”
“What did you say?”
“Well, he said I would have to trust him about the nature of the work and the location of the job was top secret. He wouldn’t tell me much about the position so I said no, but I’d let him know if I changed my mind.”
Dante sipped his port, staring into the comfort of the fire. “So, what made you change it?”
She sighed. “Bankruptcy.”
“Really?” he almost spluttered.
“Really, yes. I was twenty-one when he first asked me to come here but by the age of twenty-two, I was bankrupt.”
“How?”
“Like all rich kids, I got a trust fund. Within a year, I’d not only emptied it, but also had a mountain of debt. Had to declare myself bankrupt.”
“But–”
She smiled with a strained grin. “I… partied. Did all the Class A drugs. Did all the men. All the women. Did… everything.”
“You didn’t work?”
“I had money and a summer house at the back of my parent’s house. No, I didn’t work. I was debauched.”
“So, Barlow put you on the right track?”
“He did. He raised me from the lower ranks very quickly, after it became clear I had a talent for this.”
“Why did you go crazy? Take drugs and stuff…”
She blew out a deep breath, stretching her arms and legs, before re-crossing everything.
“I didn’t know any better. Even the best of us make mistakes, right? It’s how you overcome them that counts. How you get on after a fuck-up is what determines you as a person.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way before. I thought tarred and feathered stuck?”
“Do I look tarred to you?” She flicked up her eyebrow, slightly shaking her head. Almost immediately, the Vulcan expression she normally wore returned. He swore she was Botoxed, otherwise how else could she look so… symmetrical.
“I may be a born masochist… but ruled by my past I am not.”
“You’re not really a dominant?”
“I am an alpha but my sexual persuasion is submissive.”
“Okay,” he almost coughed on a laugh, “I’m still getting to grips with all your terminology but… what? And I say again… what? How can you be submissive?”
She shrugged and delivered him a few rapid blinks of her eyes that signified he wasn’t getting any answers to that particular query now boggling his brain.
Dante kept his thoughts to himself; something didn’t seem right about all the stuff she was telling him, but he’d shelf that for later.
“You said you had some things you could tell me about my dad?”
“Oh yes, I did,” she said.
“So…?”
“Barlow told me not to tell you.”
“He knew I would be here one day, asking questions?”
“Yeah, but… strictly you shouldn’t be here. Up in the house, I mean. Our time down in the dungeon doesn’t exactly allow for deep and meaningful conversations.”
“Barlow’s dead so why don’t you just tell me? It couldn’t hurt.”
“Oh, it will all hurt.”
“Better to just get it over with.”
Ever inquisitive, he wanted to know what she knew – whatever it was. He hated someone knowing something he didn’t, especially where his father was concerned.
She wriggled in her chair, getting comfy. Reclining right back, she lifted her booted feet to the coffee table between them.
“When I became manager as Barlow’s health declined, he told me there were a few people barred and never to let them visit, not under any circumstances. He was very clear about it. I asked what could get someone barred and he told me: breaking the rules repeatedly, the number one rule being that you didn’t shag any of the Mistresses here, either on the premises or in the outside world.”
“But… the women are allowed to leave, aren’t they?”
“They do get holidays but even then, we discourage the women from meeting men on the outside who frequent Pernox. Any other men – fine – just not the ones that come here.”
“Why was he quite strict about this?”
“We’ll get to that. Anyway, he explained in further detail that not only had your father invited one of the girls from here on holiday with him, but when she returned from her holiday, she confided in a friend that Dick was planning on leaving your mother for her.”
“Shit. What did Barlow do?”
“He paid the girl a hefty whack to go away, somewhere abroad. The friend of the girl told Barlow in time about what she was planning to do and he made her see Dick would eventually get tired of her too.”
“Barlow wanted to save my mother the embarrassment?”
“Yes, and you and Daltrey too. He also knew it was just another of Dick’s floozies and no matter how stupid the girl, Barlow cared about all the women here and took care of every single one. He wouldn’t have it that she left to be with him. He wanted better for her.”
“So then, Barlow barred my father? And the girl… was gone?”
“Yes… and yes.”
“How did he take it?”
“Not well. Dick tried to picket this place. He tried everything. In the end, they came to an agreement.”
“Which was?”
“Barlow would leave Pernox in his will, to whichever of Dick’s sons wanted it.”
“That would be me, but why would this please my father?”
“No doubt your father thought that one day, he would receive a new invitation to visit.”
“But he won’t?”
“Not while I’m here. Barlow had the foresight to install a manager here – that would be me by the way, if you were wondering–” they exchanged a smile, “and name her as Pernox’s regent, if you like, for at least the first ten years after Barlow’s death. And while I’m here, I’ll let everyone know Dick’s never to be allowed access.”
“Well,” Dante snickered, “he won’t c
ome begging to me. We’re barely on speaking terms.”
“What do you mean?”
“I dropped out of law school. I don’t want to be a barrister. I care about the bar as much as I care about the colour of my father’s turds.”
“Lovely analogy.”
“Sorry, but–”
“I get it, I really do. Barlow was one of those people undisturbed by anything or anyone, always placid calm on the surface. But when it came to your father, he could rain fireballs just thinking about him.”
“He has that effect.”
“So… you don’t want to be a lawyer?”
“No.”
“What do you want to be?”
“Right now… a shagger. It’ll do me for now.”
“Men are never content forever with that. You need real work.”
“So, what would you suggest?”
She sat further back in her chair, guarded. “Invest your money. You never know…”
“Not a bad idea. At least I don’t take Class A drugs. I still have all my inheritance.”
She chuckled. “See, you’re not as much of a failure as they all think. I can tell you from experience, not taking them is a very, very good thing.”
“So… are we going to shag then, or not?” He sounded impatient because he was, very much so in fact.
She rose to her feet, looked down on him and muttered, “Nope, actually. I have a stunning six-foot blonde waiting for me upstairs.”
His heart sank three feet, right into his blue balls.
“I’ve been totally played, haven’t I?”
“No, I never promised anything. You imagined all sorts, all on your own.”
“I can’t get home. I’ve drunk too much and my car’s by the hut.”
“You’ll find somewhere to sleep, I’m sure…”
“Wait,” he begged, as she began walking away.
“What?” She turned to look at him.
“Who would have inherited this place if it didn’t get passed down to me?”
“I guess you’re looking at her, but placating Dick by keeping it in the family so to speak was worth it, saved Barlow a lot of aggravation and potentially having to shut this place down.”
“Barlow liked you that much?”
“I think so.”
“Well, if I ever make a load of cash, I’ll let you have this place, when I don’t need it anymore I mean. I promise.”
She gave him a doe-eyed, disbelieving look. “Promises… promises…”
She left the room and left him wanting.
He could’ve gone snooping around Pernox and found a mate for the night but it would have been a girl he’d have to see again, a girl with possibly greedy eyes, desperate for his cock to tunnel her once more. He rarely saw girls again. Once, he’d been in Tesco and had spotted a former conquest with her new boyfriend. The girl had flushed pink at the sight of Dante and suddenly had a lot of explaining to do…
Deciding to wander around the house, he found the kitchen open and stole some cheese and ham, hungry at the sight of it.
Once fed, he stumbled into the orangery and collapsed on a lounge bed. He never even remembered falling asleep, which was strange for him.
THE morning after, Shay woke him up with a cup of coffee and told him she’d had his car brought round. He drove home in a daze because he knew so much more that day than he had the day before – and yet he felt more unsatisfied than ever.
Three
DANTE HAD BEEN A REGULAR of Pernox for more than a year when Shay finally invited him to play for real. After all their guests were gone one Saturday night, she locked down the dungeon for their own, private use.
“Was Uncle Barlow kinky?” he asked her straight, their accord more than familiar now.
They’d enjoyed many conversations about myriad matters since she’d let him become a part of her Saturday nights – and this was the final step into full exclusivity.
“He wasn’t.”
“Did he have many lovers?”
“Only one. Someone special to him. They were together for thirty-nine years, until Barlow died.”
“Why did he have this place then?”
As they walked down the corridor and into one of the private chambers, she quirked one eyebrow. “Don’t you know?”
“No.”
“This place has been in the family generations. Barlow and his father and his father before him have used Pernox as a means of procuring secrets from politicians, not to mention retired statesmen, leading barristers, police commissioners, health professionals… because anyone important usually has a kink, you know? People here know they have absolute privacy to say and do what they want and they also know they are among their own. It’s a sanctuary for our kind.”
“I don’t get it,” he paused, fighting not to bite his nail, “how didn’t people realise he was stealing their secrets?”
Dante watched as she talked at the same time as beginning to dress one of the Mistress Chambers with items she pulled from a long duffel bag, which had been left out for her.
“Barlow exhibited the utmost diplomacy when it came to which secrets he would use or sell. Secrets told to the girls here would be relayed to Barlow and he chose carefully which titbits would be of most profit, and which he must archive for later use.”
She dressed the stone slab in a swathe of black velvet cloth.
“Later use? Where would he archive these secrets then?”
“I don’t know; he didn’t tell me that.”
“He must have valued his own secrets, especially knowing how much other people’s were worth?”
She smiled at Dante, grinning even. “You’re astute.”
“I’m not stupid, not really. Just lazy. Bored easily.”
“I get it.”
He felt he and she were similar in that way, not comfortable with life and all its conventional expectations. He wanted freedom and the power to do whatever he wanted, without anyone’s approval except his own.
“So who’s buying and selling secrets now? Surely not you.”
“Barlow wanted that part of the business to fizzle out. Like I told you before, it was only because of your father that you inherited this place otherwise it would have come to me.”
“And you don’t use this place to buy and sell secrets anymore?”
“No.” She shook her head. “What do you think Barlow went to prison for?”
“Oh, shit, yeah…” I forgot…
“Yeah!” she exclaimed. “I’m too pretty to go to prison.”
“How did he get found out?”
She frowned, staring blankly. “How do you think?”
“My father ratted?”
She nodded very slowly before turning her back on him, appearing to busy herself purposely inside the duffel bag, searching it carefully.
Out of her bag, Shay produced all manner of BDSM equipment, most of which he was now familiar with, having visited the dungeons many times. It was unfortunate he still hardly ever enjoyed being on a leash. He already suspected he’d much prefer to be in charge and finally, Shay was going to give him the opportunity.
“While we’re being honest with one another,” he started, trying to introduce the subject gently, “why did you lock us down here tonight? Are you ashamed of what we’re doing?”
Shaking her head, she admitted, “Not ashamed at all! Merely wanting some privacy.”
“When secrets got out, surely the men who came here must have realised how the secrets leaked… they might have confessed here and nowhere else and, you know…” He gesticulated, as though flicking a fly off his black robe. “…they’d not be able to explain the leak any other way.”
“Perhaps. However–” She folded her lips inside her mouth, thinking hard about an answer, something she rarely did. “The men who truly submit to this place enter and leave in a euphoric, relaxed state, sometimes so relaxed, they don’t remember their own names at certain points… or even what they’ve said.”
/> “I don’t know… I can’t see it,” he sounded cynical, “I reckon what happened was, they knew how the secrets were leaking out, but they didn’t care. Maybe the women here were concession enough for the real payment it cost them to come here… or maybe yet, they knew this was a place to swap and divulge secrets… and they only let slip those secrets they really wanted to get out.”
She stood with her arms folded, looking deep into his eyes, her face frozen.
“You do catch on quick, kid.”
He hated how she oftentimes called him kid – which reminded him he was at least ten years younger than her. He didn’t know for sure but he’d seen her needle marks after having Botox so it was a fair assumption she was a decade older. He was only twenty-two.
“Anyway,” she sighed heavily, letting him know it was time to change the subject, “we should get on with this and stop nervous talking.”
“Sorry, can’t help it,” he shrugged, “nervous talking is one of my things.”
“It’s no problem. So, where to start?”
“Where indeed.”
“There will be no intercourse,” she told him, forthright, “I don’t sleep with men anymore. It’s one of the things Barlow loved about me.”
She gave him that quirk of her eyebrow again and he judged it a nervous cover.
“Okay,” he agreed, not unhappy about the arrangement.
He wasn’t really into Shay even though she amused and mystified him. Plus he knew he could get any woman outside of Pernox into bed – so it wasn’t that much of a big deal if he couldn’t get into her knickers. He could never have his ego burst, not when it stood nine inches high between his legs when fully hard.
“My safe word is conundrum but I probably won’t need to use it; you’re a nice guy after all and it’s all good with me. The more pain, the better. My threshold is akin to Kilimanjaro.”
“Fine,” he breathed, sweat beading on his temples, nerves kicking in.
What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he couldn’t please her?
“I like hot wax, which I’ve set out over there.” She gestured at three candles already slowly burning and melting. “I like the flogger, the crop, paddle, belt, rope, cuffs, collar… there’s not much I don’t like. In fact there’s nothing I don’t like. If there is something I don’t like, I’ll say conundrum, otherwise you can go on… and explore at will.”
The Fix (Nightlong Series Book 2) Page 4