A Fine Line

by Sue Horsford

  Paul poured himself a glass and sat at the table with me. “To be honest, it’s not just your dad’s fault. You’re always making allowances for her.”

  “I am not.”

  “What about the other week round at Gabriel’s?” he said. “She had a snipe at Steph, Gabriel quite rightly pulled her up about it and she stomped off to bed like a spoiled child. And what did you do? You started to go after her until Gabriel told you to leave her.”

  “You’re right.”

  Paul grinned. “I wonder how long she sat up there, waiting for someone to come after her. I bet she was livid when we all just carried on, regardless.”

  “Maybe I do spoil her a bit,” I admitted. “When we were children, I soon learned that the quickest way to get Dad’s approval was to say something nice about Ginny. I’d say, ‘Isn’t she pretty, Dad?’ and he’d smile and I’d feel close to him because we had something in common.” I bit my lip as I remembered the pain of being seven and my dad behaving as if he only had one daughter. “I suppose I played the game of Ginny being the special one for so long, in the end, it just became a habit.”

  “Well, she’s a big girl now, Faye. You don’t have to do that anymore.”

  I nodded and took a large swig of my drink. That was all a bit much coming from him. He was right, though. When did we ever get to play the game of Faye being the special one? I refilled Paul’s glass to soften the blow of my next words.

  “By the way, Fluff’s having a fancy dress party and we’re invited.”

  Paul groaned. “Fancy dress at Fluff’s? Do you have a needle handy so I can gouge out my eyes?”

  Paul wasn’t too keen on Fluff and, to be honest, neither was I, though I always tried to like her for Ginny’s sake. There I went again, pandering to Ginny. Paul was right. Jennifer Flough was Ginny’s oldest friend and the most annoying person I knew. Always immaculate, house spotless, grew her own veggies, A grades in every subject at school, passed her driving test first time—failure was not an option to Fluff. My favorite memory of her was going with her and Ginny to a karaoke night and Fluff doing vocal exercises in the car. I couldn’t imagine what Gabriel was going to make of her.

  “It’s famous people from history,” I said. “We’ll find something plain for you to wear.”

  “What about you?”

  “I think I might go as Boadicea,” I said in a flash of inspiration. I’d show Gabriel a warrior woman.

  Chapter Eight

  The next day, Gabriel rang me at work. “Are you still coming tomorrow night?”

  “I could,” I said, “but I don’t know whether I want to.”

  “Are you playing hard to get?” he said. A teasing smile warmed his voice and I bristled at the idea that he thought I’d play games.

  “No, not at all. But Ginny told me you’re going to Fluff’s party. What does that mean?”

  “It means I get to see you in fancy dress,” he said.

  “Gabriel…”

  “Okay, I know what you’re saying. Look, Ginny invited me. She said you were all going and I just said yes without thinking.”

  “Well, now she thinks you’re going to get back together.”

  He sighed. “I can’t blame her, I suppose. I’ll phone her now if you want, put her right.”

  I said nothing.

  “Faye? What do you want me to do?”

  “It’s not my decision.”

  “No, but you know Ginny better than anyone. I need her to see that we’re not getting back together, but I don’t want to hurt her or make her feel stupid.”

  “It’s a bit late for that,” I said. “She’s already told me you’re coming to the party, you can’t very well back out now without making her look like an idiot.” I thought for a moment. “Okay. Come to the party. You can be friendly without giving her any encouragement. Stay close to Paul and talk business all night. That’ll put her off. If there’s one thing Ginny can’t bear, it’s not being the center of attention. With any luck, she’ll decide you’re a complete bore and she’ll leave the party with someone her own age.”

  “Okay, then.” He sounded dubious, but I didn’t have any better ideas. Besides, who was I kidding? I wanted to see Gabriel in britches and boots.

  “I’ll be at your house for half past seven,” I said.

  I told Paul that my friend Susie, who lived in Blackpool, wanted to meet up for dinner in a country pub near Wigan, which was about halfway between her house and mine. Friday was Paul’s night out with the boys, so it made no difference to him whether I went out or not, but this way I could stay out late, and if he tried to phone me and it went straight to voicemail, I could just blame dodgy reception.

  After work, I went shopping and bought myself a black lacy bra and matching high-cut briefs. I’d only intended to buy underwear, but then I spotted a beautiful emerald-green velvet dress with an asymmetric hem and little buttons all the way up the front. It looked like something a gypsy might wear. I imagined standing in front of Gabriel, unfastening it for him teasingly and I just had to have it.

  Thinking of Gabriel imbued all my actions with sensuality, brought color to my monochrome world. The warmth of the sun on my body made me think of the touch of his hands, a light breeze on my skin became his breath. I realized I’d only been half alive until he’d come into my life and a new fear was born. What would happen to me when it was all over?

  On Friday evening, I left my car in a side street a couple of miles away and caught a taxi to Gabriel’s house. I knocked nervously, and a split second later, he opened the door dressed in an expensive-looking dark gray suit. I caught my breath. God, he was a handsome man.

  Without speaking, he caught hold of my wrist and pulled me inside. He slipped one arm around my waist, thrust his other hand into my hair and pushed me back against the door, plundering my mouth in a kiss that left me in no doubt that he was in charge.

  I was overwhelmed by him as always, by his presence, his maleness, the scent of his skin mingling now with the smell of freshly laundered linen.

  When he released me, he smiled at last and took my hand. “Shall we go upstairs?”

  The focal point of Gabriel’s bedroom was a huge four-poster bed, not a pretty, flouncy four poster with canopy and curtains, simply a bed that had four posts. It was intended for purely functional purposes and my pulse quickened. A plain white cotton sheet was the only covering. A duvet lay folded neatly on an armchair in the corner of the room. It was clear sleeping was not the purpose to which this bed was to be put tonight. Recessed spotlights were dimmed to a soft glow, and at one end of the room stood a Victorian fireplace on whose mantelpiece burned an assortment of deep-red candles as if there was going to be some sort of a ceremony or initiation, and perhaps in a way there was. The evening was warm, but I couldn’t help shivering as I stood, arms by my sides, heart racing, unsure of what was expected of me.

  Gabriel came to stand before me. “Relax,” he said softly. “I’ll take good care of you.”

  Slowly, he unbuttoned my dress and slipped it off my shoulders, his dark, hypnotizing eyes never leaving mine, until I stood before him in nothing but my underwear and shoes.

  He gave a slow, sexy smile. “Very nice.” He ran his thumbs over my breasts through the lace of my bra and pinched my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “This is beautiful, but it needs to come off.”

  He reached behind me, and, after unhooking the clasp, he slipped my bra down my shoulders and let it drop to the floor, then he unknotted his tie and eased it out from under his collar. He held it between his hands as I watched, mesmerized.

  “Turn around and put your hands together behind your back,” he ordered.

  I turned and clasped my fingers together, then he wrapped his tie several times around my wrists and drew it tight. He threaded one hand in my hair and pulled my head sideways so my neck was exposed to him, and I closed my eyes in ecstasy as he nipped at my earlobe.

  “If you struggle,” he murmured in my ear, “it
will get tighter and you’ll end up with marks on your wrists, so be a good girl and keep still for your Master.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I whispered.

  Still holding my hair, he turned me back to face him. “Now that is a magnificent sight,” he said, “my beautiful submissive bound and obedient for her Master.”

  His words sent a thrill coursing through my body.

  “I’m going to do whatever I please to you tonight,” he said, “but I want you to think of a word to use if it gets too much for you. Any word will do.” He paused and his eyes bored into mine. “Except the word no. You will never say no to your Master.”

  I cast about me for a word I would remember, and my gaze fell on the dress now pooled at my feet. “Velvet,” I said.

  “Velvet, then. I promise you, Faye, the next time you say velvet, I’ll stop whatever I’m doing. Do you trust me, sweetheart?”

  “I do.”

  “Good. Now, I want you to keep very still for me. Don’t respond until I tell you to.”

  He slipped off his jacket, taking something from his pocket and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing a broad, tan chest. A T-shape of dark hair ran from between his pectorals to vanish teasingly beneath his waistband, drawing my gaze downward over his lean stomach and well-defined abs. Fully dressed, Gabriel had the air of a sophisticated gentleman. Half-naked, the untamed man beneath was revealed. He stepped in close to me until we were touching, and my breath caught at the sensation of warm skin on skin. Then he opened his hand and showed me what was inside—two tiny metal clamps, tipped with rubber and joined with a silver chain.

  I whimpered as he clamped them onto my nipples. The clamps pinched more cruelly than his fingers had, but somehow the pain quickly became pleasure.

  “Shh,” he said, brushing his lips against mine. He knelt and slipped off my sandals. Still kneeling, he spread my legs and, hooking two fingers inside the leg of my panties, he pulled them aside and kissed the crease at the top of my inner thigh.

  The backs of his fingers were pressing against my clitoris, and despite what he’d said, I just couldn’t help but try and push against his hand.

  Gabriel stood up and stepped back from me. “What have you been told?”

  “Not to respond, Sir,” I mumbled, dropping my gaze to my feet.

  “Look at me,” he commanded. I met his eyes. His expression was stern. “You’ve disobeyed me, Faye.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir.” My face flushed with embarrassment, or maybe it was excitement. This was what had attracted me to him, after all. This air of dark severity, this sense of implacable authority.

  “Whenever you disobey your Master, you’ll be punished,” he said. His tone was gentle, almost sympathetic, but relentless nonetheless.

  I watched with stunned fascination as he unbuckled his belt and eased it out from the loops on his trousers, folded it in two and smacked it across one palm. At the sound of the leather slapping against his hand, my groin tightened, then Gabriel took hold of my upper arm and pulled me toward the bed. So many conflicting emotions raced through my head—excitement, shame, fear, acceptance. I couldn’t tell which the dominant one was. Maybe it was some new emotion that was a mixture of all four.

  Gabriel sat on the edge of the bed and then pulled me forward so that I lost my balance and fell face down on the bed. He hooked his fingers inside the elastic of my panties and eased them down over my ass with agonizing slowness.

  For a long moment, nothing happened and I clenched and unclenched my cheeks in anticipation. He brought the belt down hard, harder than I’d expected. The leather bit into my flesh, burning, stinging, stilling the breath in my lungs, but with the greatest effort I kept quiet.

  “Do you need to say your safe word?” Gabriel said.

  “No, Sir.” I wanted to experience this. I wanted, needed him to punish me. As a red heat spread over my buttocks, the pain deepened into something more like throbbing pleasure. Gabriel had been right—it was exquisite. Then the belt whistled down again. My ass was on fire, yet I’d never felt so turned on, not just from the incredible pleasure-pain of being thrashed, but from the feeling of utter helplessness and the indignity of my position, totally in Gabriel’s power.

  He pushed my thighs apart and delved deeply between my legs, thrusting between my lips.

  “Punishment is making you wet, sweetheart.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Again he brought the belt down and I moaned softly. How could pain be so sweet? He stroked my buttocks. “Will you disobey your Master again, Faye?”

  “No, Sir.” My face was wet with tears, healing tears, tears of rebirth as if some long-standing hurt was being exposed and drained, as if I was finally being me.

  Gabriel pulled me down off the bed until I was on my knees. He knelt with me and kissed me on the lips, then he kissed the tears from my cheeks, making me tremble with the intensity of my feelings for him. “You took that very well,” he said. “Are you grateful for your punishment?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I said. For tonight, I would put my guilt to one side. This wasn’t about anyone else—it was about me. Gabriel had tapped into some basic need within my psyche. He’d seen something in me no one else had ever bothered to look for, and I loved him for it.

  “Then what do you say?”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He stood, leaving me kneeling at his feet. He kicked off his shoes to reveal his bare feet and unzipped his trousers. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath and his erection sprang free as he let his pants fall to the floor.

  His erection was just as impressive as I’d hoped, but what transfixed me was that he was circumcised. I’d never had a lover who was circumcised before and my first impression was how smooth his cock looked, almost polished. Unthinkingly, I licked my lips and Gabriel smiled.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned me to him. I edged forward on my knees and when I was imprisoned between his legs, he gathered my hair in his hands, piled it on top of my head and held it there, pushing my head down until his erection was almost touching my lips.

  “Open your mouth,” he commanded.

  I parted my lips and took him into my mouth, keeping still at first, wary of taking the initiative, just breathing in and tasting his masculine scent.

  He said, “You can move, sweetheart.”

  I ran my tongue around his cock a few times, savoring his silky smoothness and taste, then pulled back so only the tip was in my mouth and I flicked my tongue rapidly across the head. Gabriel gave a deep groan and my desire for him grew even more intense. The sensation of being bound, the exquisite pain from the clamps pinching my nipples, the afterglow from the strapping, together with the knowledge that I was pleasuring my Master—the feeling was almost too intense to bear. I let out an answering moan and Gabriel laughed.

  “You like to please your Master, don’t you?” Slowly he pulled away from my mouth and I couldn’t help but let out a whimper. He stood and drew me to my feet then reached behind me and untied my wrists. “On the bed. Now.”

  I lay on my back, and Gabriel raised my arms above my head. He held my wrists tightly, looking down at me, his chest heaving. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” Then his mouth crashed into mine.

  I knew by now not to respond and I parted my lips to allow his tongue to claim my mouth. His kiss was rough and tender at the same time, his lips bruising mine while he explored my mouth skillfully. Gently, he nibbled my lower lip and I groaned.

  He moved away and smiled. “I see you’ve learned your lesson.” He picked up his tie from the bed. “Time for you to be restrained again.”

  Once more, he bound my wrists, this time securing them to the cross bar of the bed frame then he yanked my panties off with one hand.

  “Open your legs and bend your knees,” he ordered. “I want to be able to see you properly.”

  I opened myself wide to him, blushing under his scrutiny. He bent forward and planted a kiss between my legs, his breath warm, and his hair tickling the
inside of my thigh. Holding me open with the fingers of one hand, he began to explore me with his tongue, moving in light, teasing circles, then flicking across my clitoris as I had done across the head of his cock.

  I moaned and bit down hard on my lip to stop myself from pushing my hips forward. He brought his other hand into play, stroking me with his long fingers, thrusting inside me until I felt I’d go mad with pleasure. Then he moved a finger round to my anus, and I stiffened.

  Gabriel lifted his head. “Am I your Master, Faye?” he asked me.

  “Yes, Sir,” I whispered.

  “And does your entire body belong to me?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “To do with whatever I please?”

  “Yes, Sir, Master.”

  He said no more but bent his head again. He traced lazy circles with his tongue around my clit, unhurried, taking his time, driving me wild with need. Then he pushed his finger, already wet with my juices, inside my ass, and I gasped at the invasion of this most private part of my body. He was taking full possession of me, letting me know I really did belong to him and it was the most intimate, most erotic sensation I had ever known. I moaned deep in my throat, a guttural animal noise, and it took me a moment to realize that the sound was coming from me. Gabriel quickened his movements. I dug my toes into the bed and clenched my bound hands into fists.

  “Oh…God!” I half moaned, half sobbed. The building tension in my body was almost too much to bear, every muscle strained as if I were stretched upon a rack. Then, just as I felt I was about to snap, every muscle spasmed and, with a final shuddering sigh, relaxed as glorious release flooded through my body.

  Gabriel stilled his movements but kept his fingers and tongue where they were, holding me in place until the throbbing subsided. I wanted to tell him just how incredible that had been, but I seemed to have been robbed of the power of coherent speech.

  Gabriel removed the clamps from my nipples and teased their swollen redness with his tongue. My body had now passed into a state of delicious languor and I merely sighed contentedly at his touch. He untied my wrists then leaned over and opened a drawer in the bedside table, taking out a condom.