by Anthology
“And a chain store T-shirt,” he pointed out looking down at his plain black T-shirt. “We’re in Hong Kong, of course my suit is custom made. You can’t walk down Nathan Road without being accosted every five yards. Are you telling me you have no fake watches, handbags, or the like?”
She waved her wrist in the air. “Nope. My Patek Phillipe is the real thing, likewise my Mulberry. I made up my mind it was real or nothing.”
“I like that attitude. My suits have no fake labels. I like comfy shoes, and long hair is my preference, but I accept it also suits my image. I’m in a suit because I had customers due, until the impending monsoon made them cancel. Their helicopter couldn’t take off from Macau. Normally it would be the jeans and T-shirt look and my hair tied back. What else?” He thought for a second. “I wear contacts and work hard. I’m solvent, single and have, no sub at the moment, although I have great hopes for the near and far future. Think back, pet. You showed me you were ready then, but I waited until you were established at work. As you’ve now left Grey, Garbo, and Fullister, I decided it was time. And yes, Anthony agrees.”
“You discussed me with my brother?’ Her voice was a screech and Patrick winced.
“Yes I did,” he said flatly. “He’s my friend, he knows you, and if I’d read you wrongly, then I would never had addressed you like this and you would have been none the wiser about how I want you.”
She was silent for so long he had time to actually get through two sets of traffic lights and onto a wider road. No less busy, but the traffic moved steadily. Not that the pace was anything to write home about. Hong Kong drivers hated rain of any kind and black rain was so much worse. Their normal speed and squeeze into an impossible gap with no thoughts to anyone else tactics changed into the most sedate driver known to man—or Hong Kong. Both extremes were stressful to be in.
Especially as then, when the windscreen wipers were having trouble showing a clear view for more than half a second in ten.
The traffic stopped again and Patrick looked at her. “He said he thought you wouldn’t slap my face.”
“Hah, little does he know. I would if I thought it was merited. Or used some karate. And how do you want me exactly?” she asked as she unbuttoned her jacket and wriggled out of it to show a sheer white blouse with a camisole under it.
It hinted, teased, and his cock responded with alacrity. He’d have zipper teeth marks on it if he didn’t control himself. The only teeth marks he wanted on him anywhere were Caness’. “Every way. I hope to hell you say yes, pet, or my cock is gonna snap under the strain it’s putting on itself.”
“Yes?” she said absently as she unbuttoned the blouse and threw it onto the back seat. “Yes to… oh… us…” She grabbed the jumper from the floor and with a grin he could only describe as bratty, slid the shoulder straps of her camisole down and off her arms and pulled the jumper over her head.
“Clever,” he commented as she tugged the jumper lower, and lifted her butt to draw the camisole off. “Can you do the skirt as easily?”
“Nope, but I’ll try my best not to flash the number 293.” She gestured at the double decker bus in the inside lane and began to do the most arousing wriggle known to cock and the rest of man.
“Sod it, keep the bloody things on. I’ll come in my trousers if you don’t stop that fucking twist and grind.” He ground the command out through gritted teeth.
“Ah…oh sorry but nearly done.” She pulled her skirt down and he swore he got a flash of red hair as she did so. Then with a muttered, “Excuse me,” Caness rolled her discarded skirt up, along with what he swore were red lacy panties, and put them into her handbag. Not hair then? I hope she dares to be bare.
“Garter belt or hold ups?” he asked abruptly.
“Suspender belt. I’m mainly British, went to a British school and uni, and use British words.” She twisted in her seat, and grinned. “So remember when you tell me off for swearing, fuck, bugger, and shit are words of endearment in that language.”
3
The car swerved as Patrick laughed out loud. “Shit don’t startle me like that.” He controlled the vehicle swiftly and grinned at a Kowloon motor bus, double-decker, driver. “We don’t want to be bus fodder. We’d be travelling the place as a splatter for years.”
Caness shuddered. “That is so bl…blinking gruesome.”
“Yeah, so stop cussing eh?”
“Ha, it’s bog-standard, basic UK English, even. I assume it’s an acquired taste or sommat.”
“So you say. Definitely a bratty sub.” He sobered. “However, not in my world. They’re on the wash your mouth out with soap list.”
She shuddered. “That is red. Mega big word red. And you just swore.”
“Don’t do as I do, do as I say. If you are my sub you’ll abide by that. I hate cussing, so if you do it there will be repercussions of some sort.” He grinned. “Just not something on your red list. Simple. How about a nice spanking?”
She laughed. “That’s not a punishment.”
“Well,” his tone became serious. “I’ll sort something out. Now, do we see where this all goes, or do I drop you at your door and drive away?”
Caness waited until he’d navigated the next roundabout. With all the building going on this part of Kowloon, it was a nightmare to drive, and in the black rain, she was damned sure it was even worse than usual. Patrick seemed totally at ease, though, and held the steering wheel loosely. She’d have it in a death grip by now. Or abandoned the vehicle by the roadside and be a sobbing mess on the area where once upon a time the pavement was. Now it was under a sea of construction. Caness had long decided she’d not drive in Central or TST if it weren’t a life or death situation. So far it never had been.
She bit her lip. How she wanted to see where it all led but… “If I say no, what then?”
He shrugged, changed lanes, and sent the car through a gap that made her breathe in and hold her breath, as if that would make the car narrower.
Idiot.
“I’d say what a pity, may I take you to dinner once we’re not likely to get drowned and try and persuade you.”
It was almost worth saying no, but somehow she accepted that would be a bad move. Every book she’d ever read emphasized open and honest.
“Um safe words and such?” She might not have played much or whatever Patrick called it, and be almost a novice, but boy she was well read.
“Of course. I prefer red for stop, yellow hold on and we talk, and green is all systems go, but if you have other words you want…”
She shook her head, realized he was concentrating on the road through Hung Hau, never easy at the best of times, and cleared her throat. The thoughts uppermost in her mind made it difficult to talk. She waited until they were climbing the hill in the direction of Sai Kung before she spoke. “They’re fine by me. I’ll remember them.”
“Is this a yes?” He sounded so casual they could be discussing the price of hairy crabs on Sai Kung harbor front. Only the way he held the steering wheel in a white-knuckle grip showed how tense he was. Although that could just be the driving conditions, she didn’t think so. He’d not been like this earlier, before the subject of sub and Sir had arisen once more.
Caness took a deep breath. She needed to sound confident and in full control of what she said. “Yes.”
His grip relaxed and once more he held the steering wheel in a normal grasp. “Then, pet, look in the glove compartment. There’s an envelope with your name on it, just in case we got to this point. I had intended to come and see you tomorrow anyway. You’ll find a clipboard to lean on and a pen there as well. Can you read and write in a car and not be sick?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes, Sir. We might as well start as we mean to go on.”
Oh God, this sub thing is way harder than I expected.
She hadn’t thought it would be easy. After all, she was so much in charge in every other area of her life, it would be hard to put herself into someone else’s hands, and
let them in effect, take over. But even from her limited experience, she knew she wanted to try. “Yes, Sir. I can read and write anywhere and not feel sick. Even on a boat in the Bay of Biscay in a gale.”
“Then you’ll find a check list of what are your hard, soft, and no limits.” He flicked the windscreen wipers to rapid and grimaced. “This weather is getting worse much faster than predicted.”
The car rocked as a vicious gust of wind hit it. Patrick corrected the swerve and reduced the speed to little more than a snail’s pace.
“I’ll be glad to get back,” Caness said with heartfelt feeling. “It’s as if some giant hand wants to take hold of us and fling us to Macau or somewhere. I’ll be glad to be inside with the curtains drawn.”
“No giant will take you when I’m here, pet. I’ll cut him off in his…prime.” He flashed her a grin and she sniggered.
“That could be interesting. Even so I’d still rather be home.”
“Not just because of the typhoon, I hope. Caness, pet, I have to ask. Do you know anything from experience instead of reading?”
She’d ben waiting for him to ask that. It would be oh so easy to fudge and answer, but Caness decided that open and honest had to be her mantra. “No, Sir, not much. In practical terms I’m almost a BDSM virgin.” She sighed. “A few half hearted spanking sessions and a forced orgasm session doesn’t really count. Not with the wannabe Dom I dated, anyway. I’m looking forward to you changing that. I’ve been ready to learn properly for a while, but no one interested me enough to try. With respect, Sir, you do.”
“Thank the lord for that,” Patrick said. His pleasure and relief showed in his tone. “Okay, read it whilst I head for home.”
“You never did say where your home is,” Caness said. She found the envelope and slit it open, then clipped the contents to the board and began to read. Within minutes she was damn sure she’d left a damp patch on the seat. God it made her hot and bothered just reading the possible limits. Caness bent her head and addressed the first side of the papers. She swallowed heavily. Good lord, ball gags and shackles? That should send her running for the hills, not running for her lady pads. Even though she didn’t fancy the gag at all and that was a hard limit—she ticked that box most emphatically—it still made the pulse between her legs throb hard. The shackles now… Hmm. She ticked soft, then scrawled it out and wrote, Yes, as long as I can cry red if I hate it, not certain enough about it to say it was totally okay, but intrigued as to how it would feel to be unable to move whilst Patrick… Patrick did… Did what?
“Next house to yours.”
“Sorry?” she came out of her reverie about him, her, and shackles with a jump. “Next to me?” He must have money then, as did she. Hers was from her godmother, bless her, who to everyone’s surprise had played the stock exchange most successfully. She rather thought Patrick had earned his himself.
“The Choy’s old place?” Caness asked him, as she ticked no limit for spanking and blindfold. After much consideration and crossing out for wax play as well, and soft for nipple clamps and scribing. Really she wanted to try most of them, but needed to talk about exactly what each meant first. She hoped her seeming timidity wouldn’t put him off. It wasn’t timidity, it was caution. Surely he’d applaud that?
“They were great neighbors.” Caness said. “I’ll miss them.”
“So will I be.” Patrick replied, with a grin.
The Choy’s had moved to Sha Tin to be closer to their son and she’d wondered who had purchased the property. Now she knew.
“Yeah, Alexander Choy is a friend and he knew I was looking for somewhere in Sai Kung, so when his parents wanted to move, he contacted me. I never thought it would be that close to you. Miss ‘Clatter’ is a quiet lady who works in finance, she won’t bother you. Ha, little did he know eh? You’ve always bothered me, pet.”
“They’ve never been able to say my name, bless them.” She had to ask the question uppermost in her mind, apart from wax play and scribing that was. “What if I’d have said no to you though?”
“Oh, pet. It wouldn’t have made any difference to the end result. We’d’ve just taken longer to get to this point. Master and sub, or neighbors, we’ll be friends anyway. I’d just try the water torture on you. Drip, drip, what about this…drip, drip how about that… And always friends.”
“Thank goodness.” She turned back to her lists.
Ten minutes later she sat back and wriggled. “All done. What now?” The rain thrummed on the roof of the car and the trees at the side of the road were almost bent double. Even in such a heavy and well-made car, the weather made its presence known as cold air found its way inside and the car was buffeted as it moved steadily forward. It was a relief to think they were almost home.
“Put it in the envelope and we'll take it inside and talk about it. First though, we need to make sure we’ve got backup food, light, and heat. I’m fine, and can survive for weeks. How about you?”
She grimaced. “Well, enough for the typhoon anyway, and probably a week or so after if I have to. I’ve lived here long enough to have an emergency store cupboard, even if I do get sick of tinned tomato soup and instant noodles.” Even condoms. Mind you I’m not sure they’re still within the use by date. “I’ve just had a thought. How can you be fine when the Choy’s only moved out a few days ago? Did you have a secret stash somewhere of essentials or something?”
He laughed. “Or something. Money. My team worked all yesterday and last night it was ready. Furnished and ready for occupancy. The final few bits I did first thing before I headed into TST, where I’ve been using the apartment above the gallery.”
So I could have bumped into him anywhere. Gah, I wish I’d’ve known, I could have detoured to make sure I did or something. “And now?”
“And now I’d love to show you it all, but it’s your call.” He used his pass to open the Villa complex gates and drove along the crescent to their next door to each other, homes.
“So yours or mine?” He gave nothing away to how he hoped she’d answer.
It was a joint garage. Why hadn’t she noticed his car? Idiot, I haven’t been in the garage all week. He could have parked a Chieftain tank and she wouldn’t see it until she went to get her car out on a Saturday. She rarely used her car except at weekends.
“Well, can we go into mine so I can make sure everything is as it should be get changed and stuff, then go to yours?” Caness asked him and waited dry mouthed for his answer.
God I hope so.
“We can go into yours to make sure everything is secure. Then anything else which happens, pet, will be in my house.” He activated the remote to open the garage door, drove inside and parked in one of his allocated spaces. Next to her mini, his car looked enormous.
“Our session starts now. Say, yes Sir, if you agree we are now in the negotiating stage.”
Here where the storm couldn’t touch them, the silence was absolute with only the ticking of the cooling engine to break it. The silence seemed to stretch to breaking point.
It’s up to me. Go for it. Be brave and get on with what I want in life. “Yes, Sir.”
Did she imagine he relaxed?
“Stay there.” Patrick took out the heavy briefcase he brought with him, walked around the car and opened her door.
“Don’t forget your toothbrush.”
4
Patrick watched, amused, as Caness prowled his lounge and stared at the pictures and ornaments he’d used to make the space a home. Each could be viewed in two ways, depending on how your mind worked. To some they would be erotic, to others no such thing. He tried to see the room through her eyes. Even though it would be a mirror image of her own home, he guessed it would look very different, and even more so than when the Choy’s had lived there. They’d favored clutter and bright colors everywhere. He’d chosen to add color in a few well-placed furnishings. A bright antique fan, a traditional cheongsam, and some intricately carved chopsticks. He’d kept the furniture to the min
imum and had, he hoped, achieved a clean, uncluttered, but welcoming look.
The room wasn’t over large. The cost of anywhere much bigger than a shoebox in this part of Hong Kong was exorbitant, and he’d chosen to spend his money on quality not quantity. He might be a millionaire, but the emphasis was on million not billion, and he intended not to squander what he had.
Built over his half of the garage that had a room behind it intended for a maid and which he used for something totally different, it had a large balcony overlooking the bay. Not that you could view the bay at that moment. The only water to be seen was the rain lashing down and obscuring everything else. The noise as it hit the windows made him grin to himself. With that racket going on outside, you’d not need a soundproof room if you made your sub scream.
The rest of the house consisted of a kitchen connected to the maid’s room by a narrow staircase, and on the floor above the lounge, two bedrooms, both with an en-suite bathroom and a Juliet balcony. A tiny garden behind the building, not much bigger than a space to dry washing, finished his plot.
Much better than the apartment above his gallery that he kept on whilst he worked abroad, and intended to use for the times he worked late.
If Caness agrees to be my sub, if I collar her, will I ever use it? He stopped that train of thought. Too fast too soon. They might find that after tonight that was the end of the road.
Or we might not.
“This is Anthony’s work.” She pointed at a tiny, stone carved Buddha. “I’d recognise it anywhere.”
Patrick nodded. “I brought that back from Mendocino, along with some bits and pieces that’ll go in the gallery soon. You said you hadn’t seen it before? The gallery I mean.”
She nodded.
“It’s always been there, well for the past five years or so, but until this week it was conventional,’ he said. “I let it out, but now I’m back to stay, it will be more, shall we say unusual.”