‘I don’t know …’ He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘I’m not sure we should. I don’t think I know you well enough to be able to give you what you need.’
‘Well, I can’t help you there. I’ve never done this, so I haven’t a clue either.’
‘I don’t feel I’ve ever had the chance to find out what’s really going on inside your head,’ he said, which shocked me, because it was almost identical to what I’d been thinking about him before our session at The Saxon.
‘Maybe you don’t have to. Maybe you just need to show me what’s in yours.’
That made him smile.
‘We’ll do it then. But I’m not going to do anything too hard-core.’
‘That’s fine,’ I said.
‘All right. Good.’ He reached over and squeezed my leg, and I covered his hand with my own, and we stayed that way until we got back to his place.
It was strange, but the first emotion I felt was crushing relief. We had a plan for the evening that preclude me having to talk. I had gained some distance and breathing space. And for a while I could abdicate responsibility. Step back and let him take control.
But as the minutes ticked by and my head became somewhat clearer, I started to feel slightly nervous.
And then extremely nervous.
It was the being in the dentist’s waiting room type of feeling, exactly like the one I hoped I gave my slaves. My head was filling with worry and unanswered questions. What would Simon come up with? Would it hurt?
Would I respect myself afterwards?
In the lift to his apartment. I was on the point of telling him I’d changed my mind when he turned to me and said in a low voice, ‘When we are inside, I’d like you to go and take a shower. You can use the guest bathroom while I prepare the bedroom. You will come out fully clothed, please, and then our session will start.’
‘That’s fine,’ I said, noticing that my throat felt suddenly dry. ‘What – er – should I call you? During the session, I mean.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘You don’t have to call me anything. You just have to do what you are told.’
And then we were inside his apartment, which I saw had been cleaned and serviced while we were out, and I was scurrying off to the second bathroom, my stomach churning with anticipation and dread.
I took a quick shower, simply because I hoped it would give Simon less time to dream up his wickedness, but even so, he was too fast for me. When I pushed the door open the bedroom was in semi-darkness. A single candle burned in a holder on the bedside table. The air was filled with its cinnamon scent.
I noticed a glint of steel on the pillow and nearly bolted back to the bathroom when I saw the pair of handcuffs lying on the bed. Jesus! Where’d they come from?
The Paula box? Or somewhere else?
‘Please, come in,’ Simon said softly.
He was standing in the shadows near the bedroom door, formally dressed in a dark, collared shirt and black trousers. His face was unsmiling; his expression stern.
Thankful for the dim lighting, at least, I walked over to the bed, moving as slowly as if I was going through glue.
‘You’re in trouble, I’m afraid. Do you know why?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I said softly.
‘It’s because I have a feeling that you are hiding something, Emma.’
I looked up at him, my mouth as dry as sandpaper, my heart threatening to bang its way right through my chest. He returned my gaze and, right then, I saw no trace of compassion in his eyes; nor any hint that this accusation was merely part of the fantasy.
Had he really put two and two together? Or was what he had said just a lucky guess?
‘I’m not …’ I whispered, and immediately felt guilt cloak itself around me.
‘I’m going to find what you are concealing from me, and then punish you.’
Oh, holy hell, there couldn’t be any worse punishment than what I was going through already as a result of his words. Or could there?
He undid the buttons of my shirt before taking it off, shaking it out and tossing it on the nearest armchair.
His face serious, he smoothed his hands over my skin, caressing my breasts through the cups of my bra before undoing the catch and removing it. Then he took off my shoes, loosened my belt and unzipped my trousers, all the while expressing his hopes that I would, surely, confess to him soon.
I doubted it, since the truth was tightly locked away in my own sinful mind.
A minute later, he’d removed every stitch of my clothing.
‘How disappointing that we’ve uncovered nothing except your naked body,’ he said. ‘A very inviting body, it must be said. This will definitely make my job more pleasant, especially since we may end up having to do a cavity search if you don’t start to cooperate. But hopefully you will. I’m sure that after a good spanking, you’ll tell me everything I need to know. You’ve never been spanked before, have you?’ he asked softly.
‘No, never,’ I said in a small voice.
‘Bend over the bed.’
I obeyed. The duvet cover was soft and cool. I buried my face in it and clutched a fold of it in my hand, inwardly squirming as I realised that, from the sound of his voice, he must be standing right behind me and staring directly down at my exposed backside.
This was all too much. Too intimate. The fact we’d made love the night before and spent the day together didn’t make it any better – in fact, it made it worse. If he’d been a stranger who was going to spank me and then go away forever I felt I could have handled it better.
And then I flinched as he picked up my left hand and I felt the chilly clasp of steel around my wrist. A moment later and he’d clicked the other cuff into place on my right. For the first time in my life, I was handcuffed.
I just prayed he could remember where he’d put the keys.
Then I tensed again as I felt his hand on my bum. His palm was cool, almost cold.
‘Such a pretty backside,’ he said. ‘So round and firm and feminine. I’m sorry I’m going to have to leave red marks all over your lovely pale skin, but as you won’t tell me what I need to know, I’m going to have to punish you for it.’
He leaned forward and whispered in my ear, ‘It’s going to hurt. But remember, it’ll hurt me almost as much as it hurts you.’
And the next moment, I let out a yelp of pain and surprise, thankfully muffled by the duvet, as his palm slapped down across my buttocks with cauterising force.
He didn’t ask me to count the blows – there were too many and they came too fast. Smack after stinging smack landed on my exposed behind. I cried out in protest and pain. ‘Stop!’ I pleaded, but he only responded, ‘Every time you ask me to stop, you earn yourself another twenty. That’s how it goes, remember?’
Instinctively, I tried to lower my hands to protect my bum, but since my wrists were handcuffed together, that effort was stopped as soon as it was started. Then I tried to wriggle from side to side to escape the blows, which was also pointless since my backside was bigger than his hand, and he had the advantage of being able to see what he was doing.
Eventually I just submitted and lay there, biting my lip against the onslaught of the blows, feeling my skin first sting and then burn as involuntary tears prickled my eyes. I did my best to ride out the punishment. I was determined I was not going to give in, nor beg him to stop again. He was not going to break my resolve.
And then he stopped, leaving my buttocks fiery hot and throbbing. Adrenaline-laced blood was raging through my veins. I kept quiet. Didn’t move. Just tried to muffle my rapid breaths and wait, apprehensively, for whatever else he had planned.
He was breathing hard too, and he was leaning close now. I could smell his skin, and the subtle fragrance of the shower gel he’d recently used.
Gently he placed a hand on the skin of my rear, which I knew must be crimson.
‘You deserved that, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I said into the coverlet. ‘I
deserved it.’
The worst thing was that I really did, and that I couldn’t tell him why.
Even so, saying the words out loud filled me with a powerful sense of shame. Admitting I’d deserved such childish correction was, indeed, humiliating.
‘Say thank you for the punishment,’ he ordered.
‘Thank you for the punishment,’ I whispered. I wasn’t going to try to defy him. I genuinely didn’t want another spanking.
‘You took your treatment like a good girl. So now you have a reward.’
There was a chinking noise and the next moment I inhaled sharply from the shock of the icy touch that soothed my burning skin.
He was holding ice cubes. Two of them, one in each hand, and he was massaging my buttocks with them, slowly and sensually, bringing me welcome, freezing relief. The sensation of the cold was incredible. The throbbing abated as my skin cooled. Droplets of melting water dripped over my thighs, pooled in the small of my back, trickled between my legs.
Then he moved his icy hands away.
‘Kneel on the floor,’ he said. ‘And remember, one word of protest from you about anything we do from here on, and you’ll get another beating.’
My head whirling, I slid off the bed and onto the Persian carpet at its foot, holding my cuffed hands in front of me. I would do whatever it took to avoid another spanking. His punishment had indeed forced me into submission.
He sat on the edge of the bed, still holding the ice cubes. He leant over me, his fringe falling forward, his expression intent. I looked down, scared to see the expression in his eyes. I could hear his breathing, which was still fast. That was ok, since my own was coming in shallow gasps.
He circled the ice around my breast, taking his time over it, spiralling inwards until I felt its freezing touch on my nipple. I glanced down to see the skin had pulled tight and hard and erect. Smiling slightly, he moved the ice over to my other breast and repeated the action.
‘Beautiful nipples,’ he said. ‘Just begging to have two nice, tight clamps attached to them, to keep them so stiff and sensitive.’ My eyes widened at that, and I froze in place. Would he really? Was he going to?
‘But since I don’t have any clamps …’
I let out a long, shuddering breath. Small mercies, I supposed.
And then the sadistic bastard patted his trouser pocket. ‘Oh, wait a minute. Isn’t that lucky? I appear to have a couple in here.’
Now my breasts were rising and falling faster, in time with my panicked breathing. He was actually going to use them on me. What would they feel like? Would they hurt?
He produced a small silvery clamp which, I noted, had slim crocodile teeth.
‘I think you’ll enjoy this.’
Well, at least one of us thought so.
‘You should be grateful for it.’
He opened the clamp’s long, narrow jaws and moved it closer to my breast. I couldn’t help but stare down, watching him as he closed it carefully around the tip of my left nipple.
I could feel its grip, and some discomfort, but to my relief the pain was not unbearable. In a few seconds, he’d fastened the other one in place and my nipples were trapped, tight and hard, within their steely grasp. Seeing the little silver devices attached to my body looked both weird and kinky.
‘You don’t believe that I’m doing you a favour by forcing you to wear them, but I am. I’ll show you why.’
He moved his fingers onto the engorged tips of my nipples, stroking and rubbing them, and I caught my breath at the rush of sensation. The clamps had made them far more sensitive. Humiliated I might be, but his actions were causing my body to yearn for his touch, to beg for more, offering a pleasure response so intense I was practically sobbing. A coil of desire was smouldering inside me. I arched my back, forcing my breasts into his hands, squeezing my thighs together as I felt a pulse start to throb, deeply and insistently, in the pit of my belly.
‘Oh, dear,’ he said, moving away and standing up. ‘You really shouldn’t have done that, Emma,’ he said.
Done what? What choice did I have? My eyes must have reflected my confusion because he carried on. ‘You’ve gone and got me all turned on again, just as I was about to perform a body cavity search. And that means we’ll be forced to start with the oral search, won’t we? I’m sure you know what you have to do in order to please me.’
As he spoke, he unbelted and unzipped his pants to free his cock, which jutted up, erect and engorged. ‘You know where you have to take it,’ he whispered, leaning into me and twining his fingers through my hair as I closed my lips around the hot, swollen head and sucked, deep and hard and sensuously.
It wasn’t long before he guided my head away.
‘Wicked woman,’ he breathed, his voice hoarse. ‘I am going to have to stop you now. In fact, I think I must restrain you properly, because you are becoming dangerous.’
He grasped me under my elbows and guided me to my feet, then pushed me gently down on my back on the bed before lifting my arms up, and then behind my head. And the next thing I heard was a loud click – I realised he’d fastened the cuffs to the bed frame with a large steel carabiner.
‘I can’t describe how erotic a sight you are,’ he whispered. ‘It’s turning me on so badly seeing you clamped and cuffed, naked and compliant. But I am a man of my word. I promised to do a thorough cavity search on you, and that will be done.’
Fastened to the bed, I craned my neck to see what he was doing. He was smoothing something over his fingers. Lubricant, I guessed. Great. I was going to get the full treatment, that was for sure, and once again I felt a shiver of apprehension.
He turned back to me.
‘Part your legs for me,’ he demanded, leaning in close. ‘This procedure is going to be extremely thorough,’ he whispered. ‘There’s no telling where you may be hiding something. I strongly suggest you make an effort to be both willing and relaxed. If you resist me in any way, then I will be forced to use more severe measures, and those will be painful.’
Great. I’d never heard the command ‘Lie still’ worded quite so persuasively. The problem was that I didn’t know if I could control my response to him. I felt like there was an electric current zipping through every cell of my body. I felt incredibly aroused, but absolutely disempowered. Longing for his touch, but dreading it, too.
He slipped two fingers between my legs, stroked my outer lips, then pushed them inside.
‘Emma,’ he said sternly and I jumped in response to his tone. ‘Open your eyes. You will keep looking at me.’
And he stared into my eyes as his fingers slid into me, the sensation cool at first from the lubricant but then warm and sure, stretching me open, filling me up, pressing against all my most responsive pleasure points so that my breathing quickened.
‘And I can’t ignore this cavity,’ he murmured, and my eyes widened as I felt another lubricated finger touching the sensitive entrance to my anus, then probing gently inside, thrusting deeper. The sensation was at once embarrassing and intensely arousing, and all the more so because I was trapped in the laser beam of his gaze.
‘So tight,’ he whispered. ‘I’m going to have to do some training with you if I’m going to enjoy you to my satisfaction in the future.’
I had to force myself not to squirm at the thought of what that training, and that satisfaction, might involve. But I remained still. I didn’t speak, just stared into his eyes, first obeying his instructions by trying to relax, and soon gasping as his fingers moved rhythmically in and out, the friction growing ever more delicious as he worked his magic inside me. The doubly erotic stimulation was becoming almost unbearably pleasurable … I couldn’t take much more of this … I was going to come …
And then he stopped. That divine build-up ceased as he removed his fingers, leaving me swollen and needy; teetering on the brink but unable to reach it. Arching my hips towards him I pulled against the handcuffs, wishing for release, feeling the steel dig painfully into my wrists. He’d left
me in purgatory and I could have screamed in frustration at the denial of my pleasure.
He leaned forward and stared down into my eyes, his rapid breathing matching my own.
‘I think the search must be called off now. After all, I’ve found nothing. Or am I wrong? Are you still hiding something?’
Only the secrets I can never tell you …
‘Yes,’ I whispered. ‘I am hiding something. Please carry on.’
His eyes burned into mine. ‘If you want something, you’re going to have to beg for it. You understand the rules, don’t you?’
I blinked. How to beg? And what did I dare to ask for?
‘Please keep fingering me,’ I muttered, feeling my face grow hot.
‘How badly do you want it?’Teasingly, his touch circled my flesh, slick with lubrication.
‘Very badly. I need it. Please.’
He probed me again, sliding just his fingertips inside so that my muscles tensed around them. I gasped with the anticipation of pleasure.
‘Push deeper, please. God, I’m imploring you.’ My voice sounded ragged, broken. If he didn’t let me orgasm soon there was a strong possibility I was going to spontaneously combust. Couldn’t he see there was only so much denial I could take?
But, seemingly immune to my pleas, he slipped his fingers out again.
‘Well, despite your begging – which, I might add, needs some work – I don’t think you’ve done enough. I think you deserve some time alone, to reflect on your misdoings, before I see to any more of your needs.’ He stood up and turned away.
He was going? No way. He couldn’t leave me now, empty and unsatisfied, handcuffed and unable to reach fulfilment for an indefinite period of time. And it wasn’t only the physical frustration I found myself dreading. By punishing me with this time alone, he would also be playing on one of my deepest emotional fears – that he would, indeed, walk out of my life one day and never come back.
Suddenly, it came to me.
Begging had not worked, and clearly would not … but seduction might.
He wouldn’t be expecting it; not now. And, certainly, this was one area where I had the necessary experience. I knew what my words could do …and they were the only weapon I had left.
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