by Eva Gill
Anya heard the implement touch the floor, and hid her face from him when he approached. He ran his hands over the raised welts, eliciting a fresh cry of pain from her, and then reached between her thighs again. She willingly spread herself for his hand, and moved against his fingers, soaking them with her arousal.
He left her tied, and unbuttoned his jeans, thrusting into her wet, hot and hungry sex, fast and hard. Anya cried out and arched her back at the stretch of his granite-hard cock filling her so suddenly. She sobbed when he ran his hands roughly down her welted back and over her arse, digging his short nails into her skin, but her orgasm rushed over her like a tidal wave when he reached for her clit and kneaded it roughly between his fingers. She gripped the cuffs at her wrists fiercely, hanging on, and bucked against him while her inner muscles tightened in a spasm around him. Alexander grasped her hips and grunted like a wild animal when he spilled himself into her pliant body.
Both spent, they breathed hard, and he hung onto her body, resting his face against the back of her neck,
“Still cold?” he asked mischievously.
She shook her head. “Uh uh, nope.”
Anya burst into a fit of giggles. He pulled out of her body, watched her shudder, and buttoned his jeans, then started untying her gently. She stood, dazed, with his fluid running from her body. It was one of the sexiest sights Alex could ever want to see, and he gathered her into his arms, leaving the whips and tools for the staff to return to his quarters.
He carried her upstairs and lay her on the bed, immediately sitting with her and letting her curl up in his arms. Her breathing slowed and she started crying softly, wetting the fabric of his shirt with the salt of her tears.
“It’s okay baby, you did so well, I am incredibly proud of you,” he whispered, stroking her hair. He let her cry herself out as he continued whispering sweet things to her, and then tenderly turned her over to assess the damage to her skin. “That is going to leave some pretty markings,” he said, appraisingly.
Anya tried to look, but couldn’t see much. Alexander stood, fetched a tub of coco-butter body lotion, and spent about twenty minutes rubbing it into her arse and thighs. He then cuddled her on the bed until she fell asleep, covered her in soft blankets, and left her to rest.
Aftercare was something he enjoyed almost as much as actual play. For Alexander it was a time to bond with your submissive, slave or Dominant. It was a special thing, an important part of building and maintaining relationships, where so much trust was crucial. He watched her from his desk for a while, her face restful and her hair wild around her head as she lay on her side, then walked into his bathroom to shower.
Chapter 3
Jonah mentally prepared himself for a long process concerning the sale of his apartment the moment he decided he wanted to sell and move on. The economy was not great, and it was especially not a seller’s market. He sighed, hating the idea that he might take a loss if he could not get his asking price. He didn’t have a huge amount of savings, and was not sure about having a tremendous mortgage over his head.
As he sat at his desk now, a week after making the decision to sell, he patiently worked through an audit for a cosmetics company, searching carefully for discrepancies. His pocket vibrated as his cellular started ringing, and he frowned when he saw the estate agent’s number there. He hadn’t been anticipating any calls from her just yet.
“Good morning.” He answered politely, keeping his voice down so as not to disturb his office companion. He clamped the phone between his shoulder and ear as he listened to her speak.
Annette, the agent, spoke fast. She had a young couple for whom she suspected his apartment would be perfect. They were both career lawyers, had no children, and liked the idea of a new, hip area. Jonah promised to leave keys with the building supervisor the next morning so she could show the apartment to them, and hung up. “
Well, what do you know,” he muttered to himself. His Tuesday was set to get interesting.
Jonah glanced down at his watch and decided it was time to grab a cup of coffee, so he stood and walked to the kitchen, preoccupied with the thought of searching for a new home, and the thought that this might happen sooner than he’d anticipated. Stavros, one of his co-workers, was in the kitchen paging through the Financial Mail, and looked up at him when he pushed a mug into the Nespresso machine, slid a capsule home and pushed the button for a Grande Americano.
“What’s up, Jonah? Looks like you have big things on your mind,” he remarked, closing the magazine and shifting his focus to Jonah.
Jonah shrugged casually. “I put my apartment on the market a week ago, and already have a prospective buyer. I guess I just wasn’t anticipating house-hunting quite so soon.” He heard the uncertainty and doubt in his own voice. “I am starting to realise I am not so great with change.”
Stavros laughed softly, “Don’t sweat it, the first thing to think of is what you want in your next house.” He crossed his arms.
“I have thought this through. I need a free standing house, so that I have privacy. I want a couple of bedrooms, space so I don’t have to upgrade again soon, and a cellar so that I can store a few nice wines.” He shivered at the thought of building his own version of that club’s central play space.
Was he really considering this, saying yes? Jonah shook his head and refocused his attention on Stavros.
Stavros’ face lit up. “You know, you should get an agent to show you the neighbourhood where I live.” Jonah couldn’t decide if it was a snobby comment. “It’s near Sherwood Gardens and John’s Hopkins University, there are a couple of really nice red-brick mini-mansion type places on sale at the moment. You might like them, depending on your budget of course.”
Jonah kept it to himself, but the man’s tone concerning budget had sounded decidedly snide and sarcastic. “I will do that, I might even take a drive around and see if the area suits me first.”
Jonah felt new excitement about the prospect of a large house, born from his doubt and nervousness. Perhaps he could make this work, a nice new place to build new memories. He thanked Stavros and they departed to their desks to carry on with their work.
***
He walked into his apartment after work later that evening and retrieved a beer from the fridge, cracking the cap before he sat down on the couch. On his coffee table in front of him lay the card Bartholomew had handed him, the one that showed nothing but a number. He found his fingers were shaking as he picked it up, the thick board almost hot in his fingers.
Jonah knew he had to do this. He felt it in his gut and in the curious depths of his mind. He closed his eyes and pictured that blonde woman on the cross. It was so vividly engrained in his memory he could virtually hear the whip strike her flesh, and her moans of pleasure as she came later, with the tall man’s hands on her.
With a flood of butterfly wings through his stomach, and a rush of blood to his head, Jonah picked up his cellular phone and dialled the number. When it was picked up without answer, he said the word he had been instructed to and nothing else.
“Yes.”
He had no idea what would happen now, who would reach him, or how he would be contacted. Jonah only knew that his life was going to change, even if he didn’t know how. He felt suddenly restless, put the beer down, and picked up his phone and car keys, heading out to the garage. He only drove on weekends or at night, preferring public transport to work and back. His car was a guilty pleasure. A smile involuntarily broke out on his face when he saw his baby, a Porsche 718.
Jonah had wanted a Porsche for as long as he could remember, and this one, a deep metallic blue with a cream coloured leather interior, he cherished. It had taken him two years of doing every piece of freelance work he could find over and above a full-time job, and he had saved relentlessly to afford it. His parents had not spoilt him, but taught him that things are better enjoyed when you earn them, a mentality he held onto tightly. Inside the car, as the engine purred to life, he breathed in the scent
of the leather and stroked the steering wheel lovingly.
The Killers played ‘Runaway’ as he pulled out of his parking space and waved to the guard on duty. He loved Baltimore, and smiled as he drove toward the community of Guilford, the one Stavros had mentioned. He slowed down as he passed the rolling lawns and stared at the houses, majestic behind rough red-brick walls, with lights twinkling in most of the windows. When he rounded a bend in the road, he braked and pulled over.
Just ahead of him sat a stone Georgian, a massive house. There were no lights on, but the surrounding glow from the street lights gave it a welcoming look. The gardens were enormous, and it sat well off the street. Jonah felt an instant attraction to the place, and when his gaze swept the front wall he saw a ‘FOR SALE’ sign perched at the entrance gate.
“There is no way in this lifetime I could afford that house,” he muttered to himself, but took the agent’s details down nonetheless. It would be good to have a place to start.
It was on his way home that his phone rang, the screen on his dashboard displaying an unfamiliar number via the built-in Bluetooth system. He pushed the button on his steering wheel and answered.
“Jonah speaking.”
The familiar voice on the line froze him, and he pulled over to take the call. “Good evening Jonah, it is Bartholomew Black speaking. I received news of your response, and wished to welcome you myself.”
Jonah shook himself to garble a response. “Bartholomew, uh, thank you!”
Jonah didn’t know how else to respond, so he waited.
Bartholomew spoke again. “I want you to be at the same club where Anya brought you, on this coming Saturday evening. If you already have other plans you will have to change them, I am afraid.” He didn’t sound even faintly remorseful.
Jonah chuckled. “I will be there, Mr. Black. I have no plans.”
“Good. Oh, wear black if you please, or a suit if you have one.”
He hung up without a greeting, leaving Jonah to sit in his car trembling in anticipation. He did not sleep much that night after tidying up the apartment for show, lying awake in his bed and staring at the ceiling until he could take it no more, and sat in his bed reading.
The next day at the office his exhaustion showed. He slumped over his paperwork, not really seeing anything, and barely spoke to anyone. He did, however, check the site belonging to the estate agent in charge of the Georgian house in Guilford. He frowned when he saw the price; compared to similar properties in the neighbourhood it was unreasonably cheap. He picked up the phone and dialled their number.
“Hi, may I speak to an agent regarding the big Georgian in Guilford?” he asked, giving her the exact address.
The receptionist transferred him straight away, and Jonah’s heart sped up.
The woman who answered his call could have no idea how excited he was as she picked up. “Alice here, hello,” she said in a calm and professional tone.
Jonah started rambling before he could stop himself. “Hi Alice, my name is Jonah MacPherson, and I am curious about one of the houses in Guilford, the Georgian that sits in the cul-de-sac overlooking Sherwood Gardens, I believe? Why is the asking price so low?”
“Oh, that one,” she replied, hesitating a moment. “If you negotiated they would probably go even lower, but…” She trailed off, and then suddenly seemed to remember she was on the phone with a client. “Would you like a tour of the property, Mr. MacPherson?” she chirped.
Jonah agreed and was all set to see the house the following day, Wednesday. The fact that there had been a mild emphasis on the word ‘you’ with regards to negotiation, didn’t strike him as significant until much later.
***
The following morning Jonah faked a cough and called in sick, deciding he needed some time to himself. He had never done this, purposely faking an illness to get off work, but he was extremely excited about seeing the house, and had dressed the moment he sprang out of his bed. He was ready an hour early.
Jonah arrived outside the property, parked his car and proceeded to stand at the pedestrian entrance with his hands in his pockets, waiting for the estate agent, Alice, to arrive. He stared up the rolling lawn and past the manicured gardens at the house, drinking in the beauty of the exterior, and quietly bracing himself for the interior, his imagination conjuring up the most wonderful ideas. He could not possibly guess at the true appearance though. Looking back at the gardens he quietly wondered how many staff it took to keep the place in such perfect order.
He heard a car behind him in the road, but only turned to face Alice when she greeted him.
“Hi, you must be Jonah MacPherson?” she asked tentatively.
He smiled and nodded. “Yes, hi Alice.”
Alice was a minute girl and had a narrow waist with curves in all the most strategic places. Her breasts were small beneath her blouse, and her legs shapely as they extended from the hemline of her skirt at her knees. Long, blonde hair fell in a heavy cascade down her back, and she walked with a very seductive, hip-swaying gait that reminded him vaguely of something.
She unlocked the gate and gestured for him to enter. “Shall I show you your new home?”
He followed her, trying not to get too excited before being realistic. “Slow down now, let’s see if it suits my needs first, the asking price might be lower than expected, but still potentially out of my reach,” he said.
Alice’s musical giggle led him up the paved path as she said, almost too softly for him to hear, “Oh Mr. MacPherson, I know it will suit both you and your budget…”
***
Even standing in the entrance foyer, Jonah knew he had to have it. He glanced to his left, where a large billiard table stood framed on a wood-mosaic floor, the baize on the table glowing a deep emerald green under the soft yellow lighting when Alice started flicking switches to illuminate the house. The colour immediately made him think of Anya’s eyes, and he pictured her spread naked on the table with ease.
He shook his head as his stomach clenched itself into a tight ball. He followed Alice into a large kitchen, where she stopped and placed her hands on her narrow hips.
“Let’s start with the kitchen shall we? It comes with all the appliances built in. As you can see they are concealed within cupboards. There is an oven, dishwasher, clothes washer and dryer, refrigerator and wine cooler.” She used a perfectly manicured finger to point them out as she spoke. “There is a separate scullery through there.” She pointed out a door in the farthest corner.
“I like the size, and having appliances already here is convenient. Less shopping, I hate that.” He walked around and checked the condition of all the counters: warm, dark brown granite and mahogany wood finishes.
It was truly a gorgeous kitchen, a chef’s dream. Alice watched him attentively, looking to see his reaction as he laid eyes on each feature of the house. She swayed her hips, a feature to her walk enhanced by Louboutin heels, as she led him into the games room where the billiard table stood, aware of the effect this room had on men. Alice stopped next to the table, ran a hand along the baize and looked up at Jonah.
“This is obviously the games room, a very grown-up one at that. The table comes with the house as it was custom built on the premises and is too large to move. There is a bar, too, and if you look through there” —she gestured to a doorway and a set of steps— “you have a private study and library, with a reading nook and floor to ceiling shelves. It’s double volume as it extends to the roof, and there are stairs.”
This room was something Jonah was curious about, and he strolled in that direction, touching the wood panelling along the wall as he went. In the doorway to the library he stopped, gaping at the giant desk, leather armchair, Persian carpet and artfully placed vase of yellow roses on the small table nearby.
He turned to Alice, “Do any of the furnishings in this room come with the house?”
She nodded. “Indeed, the desk is a feature of the room, and was, just like the billiard table, built on the premise
s.”
Jonah took out his phone. “That is nice.” He rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “Listen, do you mind if I take a photo of the décor, because if I end up purchasing the house I would like to mimic this.” He circled his finger to take in the room. “It works.”
Alice moved closer. “Of course you may.”
He snapped a picture and then followed Alice from the room. She led him into a passageway off the foyer, and toward a set of closed, heavy wooden doors. When she pushed them open and walked into the living room, Jonah’s heart thundered in his chest.
“This is the most beautiful room I have ever set foot in,” he said, his breath catching in his throat.
The furnishings were all deep, blue velvet, the coffee table a piece of driftwood with a glass top. Alice moved to a fireplace at one end of the room, the focus for the chairs and couches, and with the flick of a switch she set a warm fire glowing. The floors gleamed, natural wood also, polished glassy smooth. Jonah raised his head to look at the chandelier, delicate crystal teardrops laced together and hanging low over the coffee table.
Jonah had no response that could do justice to this room, it simply took his breath away. He silently followed Alice out and up an ornate flight of stairs, straight into the bedroom, the room which immediately sealed the deal for him.
A massive four poster bed sat in the centre of the floor, with a high side tables at its head. The framework looked heavy, and he approached it to run his fingers over the grain of the wood.
“Alice, does this bed come with the house?” he asked, his voice soft.
She came to stand opposite him, with a hand on the waist high surface, and looked down at the luxurious coverings. “It does, once again. It’s a custom built piece and too much trouble to move. Actually, all the beds in the house are similar and will be left. If you want, I can let the owners know they can leave any furnishings they aren’t taking? If you like the stuff.”