by Lucy Wild
My hands went to her hips, holding her as I thrust into her again. I moved one hand to her ass whilst rocking and grinding into her. I moved the plug in a circle, matching the rhythm of my cock as I thrust ever faster into her, not caring how long I lasted, only wanting to show that she was mine now.
She came just before I did, her orgasm rocking her and making her pussy grip my cock so tightly I couldn’t last another second. I drove myself home into her, pressing the plug deeply into her ass whilst cum shot out of me, filling her pussy. I remained in that position, letting the last throbs of my orgasm fade away as she shivered in place, her moans muffled by the sofa cushions.
After I slid from her, I pulled her knickers back up her legs, leaving the plug inside her. “Get on with the cleaning,” I said. “I have work to do.”
“Y…yes, Daddy,” she stuttered. “Thank you, Daddy.”
I left her getting slowly to her feet, walking away with a smile on my face. She was mine now. After all that worry about whether she would reject me, she was mine. She had signed the contract. It was going just as I’d planned.
I knew there was a risk, I knew I was risking losing control by allowing my emotions to come out when I was at home, not at the club. I had always vowed not to do this and here I was, breaking all my own rules for her, something I’d never done before.
Something about her made it seem okay though. It felt safe with her. So many things felt different. She wasn’t just another submissive. She was the only sub I truly felt something for. I wanted to protect her, I wanted to make her happy. I cared as much about her pleasure as my own. I didn’t just want to humiliate her. Maybe I was changing. Or maybe she’d changed me. If I’d known the trouble that was coming, I might not have been so happy about the contract, or about her.
But, of course, at that moment, I had no idea of what was about to happen to us both, of how close we came to losing each other when we’d barely begun to get to know how good life could be for the two of us together.
TWENTY-FOUR
DONNA
It felt like a long time since I’d been in the theatre. A lot had happened since I’d first suggested I could get the consent for the play. Would I have gone up to George Atherton’s house if I’d known what it would lead to? That question played on my mind as I walked in and found them all eagerly waiting for me.
“Welcome back,” Erica said, patting the empty seat next to hers. “Joshua tells us you have secured permission for us to perform About Last Night. Is that right?”
“It is,” I said, waving the consent form. “Signed by the man himself.”
She took it from me. “I don’t know how you did it but I take my hat off to you. Well done, Donna.”
“A round of applause for our heroine,” Nigel said. “Bravo, Donna.”
I took my seat, feeling sheepish as they applauded me. If they only knew what it had taken to get the permission, I doubted they’d have been as happy to laud me as their new Queen. Only Joshua wasn’t clapping. He was looking at me angrily, clearly not yet forgiving me for rejecting him when he’d come to my house.
“We can start rehearsing at once. Henry, you work on the posters, get a date confirmed for the opening night.” She continued reeling off a list of things they needed to do but I zoned out for a while, only tuning back in when I heard my name.
“Sorry,” I said, sitting up straight. “I missed that.”
“I asked if you wanted the lead.”
“Me? Really?”
“You got the permission, I think it’s only fair that you play the lead. Shall we give it a read through?”
“But you don’t even know if I can act.”
“We’ll see how you get on during the read through, won’t we?”
“Hang on,” Henry said. “What about the ropework?”
“What about it?”
“Don’t you think you should warn her?”
“Oh, right, yes. Look, Donna, if you take on the part, you will need to be tied up for part of act three. It’s sort of the climax. Hang on, I better give you a summary. Oh, how best to do it. Henry, you’re better at this than me. Why don’t you tell her?”
“Fine,” Henry sighed. “Picture A Dolls House mixed with Fifty Shades of Grey and you’re on the right lines.”
“What, Nora comes back with rope and it all ends spankily ever after?”
“Not quite. In Act One, Maria, that’s you, is trapped in a dull marriage. She gets a mysterious invite to a club. At the same time a dinner party is being planned at home. That’s act one done.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, there’s a bit more to it than that but you get the gist. In act two, she goes to the club and learns about sexual freedom and liberation. Remember, it was written in the nineties. Hypocolour tee-shirts optional and all that. Anyway, she bumps into her husband, shock horror.”
“Goodness.”
“Exactly. So in act three, she gets dragged home by him, tied up and hidden away as the dinner guests arrive. Afterwards he goes to her but the big climax is the rope was too tight and she’s died. Cue floods of tears in the audience and Equity membership cards for us all.”
“Wow. That’s not quite what I was expecting.”
“The important thing is that the rope is tied properly. You’re on stage throughout so you can’t move, you have to stay still, slowly dying.”
“Just don’t make it too realistic,” Nigel said, pulling a pretend noose around his neck.
“Nigel!” Erica said. “You’ll frighten her off.”
“It’s fine,” I said, smiling. “I’m sure we’ll be all right.”
“Why doesn’t she take some home and practise?” Joshua said, his voice cold. “Get used to the feel of it.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Erica replied. “How do you feel about that, Donna?”
“I guess it couldn’t hurt.”
“Great. Well, here’s a copy of the script. We’ll start at the beginning and see how far we get.”
“Shall I time it?” Nigel asked.
“Not this first time. Let’s just throw it around a bit, see how it feels, shall we? So we’re in a living room, middle class, boring, twee. Maria is dusting, a phone wedged under her ear. Go for it, Donna.”
I looked down at the script in my lap. “So I said to him, if that’s the way you feel then so be it. Just don’t expect me to go with you. And do you know what he said to me?”
“Sound of door opening,” Erica said. “Go on, Donna, you’re doing great.”
“Darling, is that you?”
We went through the whole of act one before Erica demanded coffee. By the time we were finished it was getting late but I at least had an idea what the play was about. It was superb. It was almost impossible to imagine the gruff figure of George was the man who had written the subtle nuances of a woman whose marriage was crumbling around her, the emotions that came out in the subtext was so gentle, so understated, it didn’t seem to suit the man he was.
I could see him much more clearly in the scenes in the club. They were much tamer than what had happened to me but it was still shocking to think of a spanking taking place on stage. It was even more shocking to think that the play had been such a big hit. I would never have guessed that there would be mass appeal to such a story, that so many people would be engaged by a story so dark, especially with no happy ending for any of the characters.
I left just before midnight, feeling more than a little odd carrying a huge loop of rope over my shoulder. I left it in the hallway at home, deciding that if there was anyone who could help me learn more about safe ways of tying it, that person was the one who had hired me to clean his house, and now he’d hired me to submit to him in every way. My heart thudded faster at the thought of him using this rope to tie me down, to bind my hands as they’d been bound in the club. I’d find out soon enough whether he would agree to teach me the things I needed to know.
TWENTY-FIVE
DONNA
&nb
sp; I was walking home when it happened. If I’d been more on my guard, I might have noticed him standing in the dark next to my front door but I wasn’t concentrating, I was too busy looking at my phone.
I’d looked up the play online, wanting to know more about it. The first article I found was about the night the girl died performing my role, playing Maria. There was a picture next to the story and I was sure I recognised the girl though I couldn’t put my finger on where from. I was wracking my brain as I walked towards my house and it was just as I got there that I realised who it was. I had seen her face before in the pictures on the wall at George’s house. Was he connected to her in some way? Surely, he had to be, else why would he have her photos framed on his wall?
“Good evening, Donna,” a voice said just as I walked through my gate.
I froze on the spot, my blood chilled. I recognised that voice.
“You’re a hard person to find.”
I looked up in time to see him emerge from the darkness. Even in the gloom of the night I knew who it was. “What are you doing here, Darren?” I asked.
“I’ve come to take you home.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Yes, you are,” he said, taking a step towards me. “You knew I was watching your bank accounts. Did you think I wouldn’t find out when you updated your address? How stupid do you think I am? You did it deliberately, didn’t you? You wanted me to find you, to bring you back.”
“Get away from me, Darren.”
“Keep your voice down. You might wake the neighbours.”
“Stop there,” I said, holding up my hands. “I’ll call the police if you come any closer.”
“And tell them what? That your partner has come to take you home. I’m sure they’ll be right here. Now, why don’t you come inside and pack. You’ve had your fun. It’s time to come home.”
“This is my home, Darren. Please, leave me alone.”
“I’ll make it simple, Donna. Either you come home with me or I tell all your new friends how evil you are, how violent you can be, how you killed our child.”
“You’re insane, they’ll never believe you.”
“Won’t they? I can be more convincing than you’d think. I convinced them not to press charges, didn’t I?” He reached out, grabbing my arm before I could move. “Now come and get in the car. Let’s not have any more arguing.”
“You’re hurting me,” I said, trying to twist my arm free.
“I’ll hurt you a lot more if you don’t get in the car.”
He pulled me down towards the road. I should have seen his car parked there but I’d been too busy looking at the phone. I thought about screaming for help but then I saw the look in his eyes, the look that had been there when I told him I was leaving. It was an empty look. If I didn’t do what he said, he’d probably kill me, not just hurt me. He wouldn’t feel anything while he did it either, just get rid of a problem that was annoying him, like swatting a fly. “Please,” I muttered as he pulled open the passenger door and shoved me inside. “Please, don’t take me back.”
“You want me to,” he said, climbing in next to me. “Don’t pretend you don’t. You told me you loved me, Donna, remember that? Told me you’d always be there for me. I don’t like people who break their promises. We’ll get home. You’ll take your medicine and then we’ll go to bed. I’ve missed you.”
His hand slid onto my leg as he began to drive and my skin crawled at his touch. I felt like kicking myself. How had I been so stupid, so complacent as to think he wasn’t keeping tabs on me? Someone that controlling would never just let their ex leave, not after everything they’d done.
The first time I left him, he’d cried, begged me to come back, promised he’d never hit me again. I believed him. Idiot that I was. Of course, at first, it was all sweetness and light but soon his temper came back. It was a cliché really. Happened to hundreds if not thousands of other people and I was no one special.
The town vanished behind me as I looked out of the rear window. “I forgive you,” he said, still squeezing my leg. “But you know, you need your medicine, don’t you?”
I kept quiet. He was being unpredictable and it put me on edge. He’d made me take tablets several times while we were together, though he never told me what they were. I only remembered them making me sluggish and sleepy a lot. In the end, I learned to hide them under my tongue, spit them out when he wasn’t looking.
That was how I was able to plan leaving, make sure there were witnesses, stop him being able to keep me there. It took every ounce of strength I had to leave him and it had all been for nothing because I was trapped with him again. There was no getting away. Wherever I went, he’d come after me. My shoulders slumped as I leaned back in my chair, letting his hand go wherever it wanted. I was floating above myself, getting used to the old familiar feeling.
So many if onlys. If only I’d changed my name, not just my bank details. If only I’d been paying attention to where I walked. If only I’d killed him that time when he slept. I’d stood over the bed with a pillow in my hands, hovering above his snoring head. But I’d been unable to do it. I was scared of doing it just as I was scared of him. He knew how to control that fear, make it work for him, he was a master at it. And he’d used that power to get me in the car without so much as a raised voice. I was lost.
TWENTY-SIX
GEORGE
I made a call as I drove. “George,” the voice at the other end said. “It’s been a long time.”
“I need some details about a car.”
“Nice to hear from you too.”
“Just do it, will you.”
“What’s the plate.”
I gave him the details and he grunted. “Give me five minutes. I’ll ring you back.”
The handsfree disconnected. I continued to follow them, wondering what I was getting myself into.
I’d been out for a walk, finding myself near her house again, as if my unconscious knew where it wanted to be. I was at the end of her road when I saw her with another man. She was climbing into a car. Something about it felt wrong, very wrong. I thought at first that it might be jealousy flaring up in me but within seconds I’d dismissed it. The look on the man’s face as he drove past me told me everything I needed to know. He was bad news.
I sprinted home, getting into my car whilst fighting for breath. I raced out of town, my foot to the floor. It took a few minutes to catch them but I sighed with relief as I saw they’d stuck to the main road. Once I caught up, I slowed, falling back, not wanting to raise his suspicion. Who was he? What was he doing with my princess? I was no closer to an answer when Richards rang back.
“Registered to a Darren Guest, 31 West Millfield Road, Reading.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, but you’re not going to like it.”
“Tell me.”
I listened as he talked, my fingers turning white as I gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter. “Thanks Richards,” I said when he was done. “You know what to do.”
“Take care.”
He hung up and I kept driving. For an hour and a half, I followed them, waiting for the right moment. It came when they pulled off the road into a service station. I parked up a few cars away from them, only climbing out once they were both heading towards the entrance. I stayed back, too far away to hear what they were saying. Once they were through the doors, I darted across, catching sight of them heading towards the toilets. They separated, her going into the ladies. He watched for a second, glancing around him before heading into the gents. Once he was out of sight, I darted into the ladies, catching sight of Donna as she stepped into a cubicle.
I ran over to her, grabbing her arm and putting a finger to my lips. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes wild. “How did you find me?”
“Who is he?” I asked.
“Please,” she muttered, clinging onto me. “Please help me.”
“Come on,” I said, pulling her aft
er me. “Before he comes back out.”
I pushed open the door, glancing out before beckoning her after me. Together we marched for the front door, getting out into the car park seconds later. Only when she was in the passenger seat of my car did I relax. “He knows where I live,” she said. “You don’t know what he’s like.”
“I know more than you think,” I said, hitting dial on my phone.
“Richards,” I said when he answered. “The services by junction forty-two. Get them here now and you’ll have him.”
“Done,” he replied, the line going dead a second later.
Donna turned to me as I gunned the engine. “Who was that? What are you doing?”
“All in good time,” I said. “Let’s get moving first.”
I was only a minute away from the services when I saw the first police car. “Talk to me,” Donna said. “What’s going on?”
“That was your ex, right?” I said.
She nodded. “How did you know?”
“Because the man I just spoke to told me who he was. Darren Guest. Also known as Nate Silver. Wanted for attempted murder ten years ago.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“You’re not his first victim. He tried to kill his wife then disappeared. If he’d kept his head down, he might never have been found.”
“That police car, was that for him?”
“It was.”
“But he’ll get out of it. He always does.”
“Not this time.
“How do you know?”
“Do you trust me?”
She paused before saying, “Yes, but-”
“Then you don’t need to worry. He won’t be getting out for a very long time. Attempted murder, burglary, rape, fraud. Nate’s got quite the record.”
“How do you know all this?”