My Naughty Little Secret (14 page)

“D’ya want me to get rid…”she offered. I shook my head and went to answer the door to a very grim-faced Michael. Thank God I had answered it myself.

“I told you not to come,” I challenged.

“You also told me you were coming to my place this evening, so it seems you don’t always mean what you say,” he said menacingly as he walked through me into the hallway. I wanted to kill him for his presumptuousness, but shit, he was really hot when he was like that. His eyes were dark with anger, his hair unruly, and his face flushed, but his voice was cool and controlled. I could feel myself weaken. I had to resist the urge to just kiss him and beg forgiveness, but actually this was important to me and it was war! He couldn’t tell me if or when I could go out with other people. It was something that I would never tolerate. I’d seen enough of those women over the years, kept in their place by overbearing, jealous men who assumed that just because she was out of his sight, it meant she was behaving inappropriately.

I decided the best thing to do was to bring him up to my bedroom and discuss this once and for all.

“I’m just not having this,” I said as I shut my bedroom door, “you’ve no right, Michael. I’m not your child or your possession…” My voice was steely calm and I was quite proud of how I was conducting myself.

“I’ve no right to what, Siobhan?” Shit, he used my full name; that wasn’t a good omen. “No right to the courtesy of a text or a phone call when you can’t be arsed to turn up as arranged? Surely anybody, no matter how insignificant in your life, is entitled to the courtesy of being let know when you can’t keep an appointment. Forgetting the fact that I was worried and forgetting the fact that it’s only a couple of days since you couldn’t be bothered to return my texts or calls, not to mention that I certainly didn’t expect you to pull the same stunt only a few days later. Surely I was worthy of a cancellation or delay text. How would you feel if it was you who was waiting and I didn’t let you know I was delayed?” His voice was icy and staccato. You could almost imagine him drumming his fingers in time to emphasise his point. And by now I had to admit he had a point. I’d have been
raging
, no doubt about it.

“You’re right, I’m sorry, I should’ve let you know,” I heard myself agreeing. “But you can’t tell me where I can and can’t go or who I can or can’t go with.”

“Jesus, will you please stop. You’re going all guns ablaze for a non-issue, Siobhan; I have no issue about the fact that you were out with Myra and James, or about who you go out with, within reason, but I have a big problem with the fact that you left me sitting like a spare part, waiting to hear what happened to you, and waiting to know you were safe. I have no desire to be your keeper, but a little courtesy goes a long way, both ways. Have I ever done that to you?”

Again, I knew he was right. I hated it when he was right.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” was all I could offer. And I was truly sorry, thinking about it; it had been a selfish thoughtless act that could have been so easily avoided.

“I see you’re still in your work clothes, you didn’t have that shower,” he commented. I was about to get on my high horse again when he continued, “Shiv, I am going to punish you and we need to keep the noise down. With what I’m planning, you’ll be more comfortable if you’ve had a shower. I need to go to the car. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes, but in the meantime I suggest you have a quick wash. I’ll punish you either way, but you might as well make it easier on yourself.”

Now I knew what he was getting at; the finger in the bum. I didn’t know whether to be alarmed or excited. I hated the feeling of it, but it was an act of such submission that it thrilled me. And by now I actually felt I deserved to be punished, not for going out, but for not showing courtesy. Once I thought it was justified, acceptance of a punishment was not only easy, but an emotional release. I took his advice and headed for the bathroom. I felt the scalding water wash away my sins and cleanse my soul. Sometimes I was independent and feisty to a fault. And I used my redheaded temper to justify it, just like my dad had done before me. The excuse was that we were famed for it and had no control over it. The reality was that nobody ever called us to order! I was even beginning to wonder if Brian had a point, sneaking around behind my back instead of having the courage to tell me to take a hike. Deep down I knew that wasn’t really true; really, he was just a self-serving ass who wanted to have it all. But it all made me reassess my own behaviour. And at my age it was high time for me. Learning your own weaknesses is an important part of growing up, but probably the hardest part.

When I got out of the shower, he was there waiting for me. There was a bag on the bed. By now, I had learned to dread the rustle of paper bags. Normally he surprised me, not telling me what I was in for until I felt it, but this time he changed tactics. He told me to sit on the bed. He took out a box of conical-shaped silicone objects and showed them to me. There were three different sizes, but all similar shapes with something like a suction cup on the end.

“What are they?” I asked in trepidation, because I knew it wasn’t going to be good, whatever they were.

“Anal plugs, and yes, they’re exactly what they say, for insertion into your bottom. Normally, for pleasure, we’d start with this one,” he said, pointing to the smallest of the three. “Then in time, we’d graduate to this one,” he continued, pointing to a plug that was wider, but shorter than his erect cock.

“Then, after that, you’d be ready to accept me in your anus. This bigger one here, it came in the pack, but I’d never use that. It would stretch you too much.”

I looked at the plug he was pointing to. Thank fuck for that; there was no way in hell I could ever imagine that fitting in my bum. And no way would I agree to try it. The little one was daunting enough, a damn sight bigger than his finger with a diameter of about two cm. Even that seemed massive.

“But tonight, I don’t want you to feel pleasure,” he continued. “So I’m skipping straight to this one; it should be as uncomfortable as a good spanking without the noise alarming the girls.” He was pointing to the middle one. Now I was shitting it. He really didn’t think he could put that
there,
did he?

He took the towel from around me and bade me lay on the bed. There was no refusal. I had been out of line, now I wanted to earn back his approval. I lay face down and he raised my legs until my knees were folded up underneath me and my bottom was protruding and my cheeks separated. He stroked my bottom and I naturally relaxed under his touch. But then I heard the rummaging and the squirt of the jelly. My natural instinct was to clench my bottom tighter. Big mistake. Michael kept talking in a soothing voice as he probed my anus first with his finger, spreading the lubrication inside me. Then he switched his finger for the plug. It felt more rigid and forbidding than his finger. And a damn sight wider. My anus fought hard to keep the alien object out. Still Michael persisted, pushing it in further. I couldn’t relax to ease my acceptance. The pain and the humiliation were indescribable. I could feel the tears sting my eyes. But I was hell-bent on submitting to it; after all I had been so in the wrong. I fought to control my breathing and then in turn my muscles, but in the end it proved too much. He decided he had made his point before it was fully inserted, and I loved him more for his mercy. That was new; before I would have seen mercy as a kind of weakness, something I could exploit, but now I was just so grateful that he could see the limits of my body. I vowed inwardly to try not to push him to that point again, but I admired him for recognising it. After removing the plug, he pulled me close, praising my fortitude and my acknowledgement that I had been unreasonable. It was a new experience for me, learning to admit my weaknesses. Michael was offering me a helping hand in growing up!

He actually asked my permission to spend the night with me. I think it was the first time I felt I had a say. Of course I gave it; we could worry about the transport arrangements, etc. in the morning. I just needed to feel his body right beside me, holding me, protecting and loving me for the night. Once I came down from the shock of the punishment, we made love. Sensual lovemaking, not the animal stuff we normally did after a spanking. We kissed and touched each other everywhere. We explored each other’s bodies with our hands and our mouths, each of us carefully noting what gave the other pleasure. He wanted to please me and I definitely wanted to please him. In spite of the discomfort I’d experienced in my bottom earlier, I found that when Michael massaged the opening, it was a deeply pleasurable sensual experience. And even more thrilling if he probed it ever so slightly. We both realised there was more to explore there. I tried the same with him, but he hated the sensation. I concentrated on his navel, abdomen, and cock, the places he responded best to my touch. We took our time; when he finally mounted me he was facing me for a change. Our mouths were connected by our kisses, our tongues dancing a slow dance as we tasted our love. Gently and easily we worked our bodies together, concentrating on a soft pleasure, until our mutual orgasms engulfed us.

I had genuinely submitted for the first time—not to his will, which I had yielded to many times, but to his love. And it was heavenly. Sexual and sensual. The bar had just been shifted. Michael no longer just had my body, he had my soul.

Chapter Thirteen

The dreaded Wednesday finally arrived. The day I was to meet Michael’s family. So far we had avoided discussing it since my return. I hadn’t wanted to as I was desperately trying not to instigate any crisis between us and make the most of what we had for now. By now, I would have sold my soul to the devil to keep what we had. Yet if anyone had asked, I still wouldn’t have said I was in love with him. I guess I just didn’t recognise the symptoms.

Unfortunately, I’d insisted on spending the previous night at home, alone; if I hadn’t, things might have been different. When I got to work, I headed straight for Michael’s office and was taken aback to see a pretty, petite blonde woman in his office. The door was ajar, but he was looking at her and didn’t see me coming in.

“
Mais non
,
Michel
, we are so much more than friends,” I heard her say seductively.

Straightaway I knew who it was. Vivienne! Bastard! After all that had happened in the last couple of days. And he had promised only last week that there was nothing between them. I quickly turned on my heel. I was raging. Tears of anger and betrayal stung my eyes. How soon we forget; I didn’t even consider my sin in kissing Pauric on Friday night. I ran down the corridor looking towards the ladies’ toilets. Hot on my heels was James, who I had almost run into in the hall along the way.

“Miss Brennan, Siobhan, are you all right?” he asked, grabbing me by the shoulder. I was too upset to realise he did actually know my name!

“I’m not feeling too well,” I lied, trying to choke back the tears. I couldn’t tell him I was having a clandestine relationship with the head of his buying department and that I just found out he was double dealing. At that, we heard shouting in French and James turned his head towards the source.

“Oh, I see,” he said sagely before adding, “men don’t stay with women like her, Siobhan, she’s too cold.”

I was too stunned to even wonder at his knowledge of either my situation, or of Michael’s private life. I was caught up in my own grief. I
knew
there was still something going on. That’s why he kept me hidden from his friends and his family. Ok, maybe I was no saint, and what I had done wasn’t much better, but at least I wasn’t stringing two of them along at the one time. And obviously even James was aware of who she was. He directed me to his office where he called a taxi and sent me home. He told me he would make Michael aware I had left, but I asked him not to bother. I could see he was both distressed and concerned, but frankly at that moment in time I didn’t care. I was too caught up in my own pain. When the taxi arrived, he saw me to the door, I don’t know why, but his kindness really got to me, and I gave him a quick peck on the cheek just before I got in the cab.

“Thanks, James,” I offered weakly.

“For nothing, Siobhan,” he countered.

“For being like my dad; if he was here, he’d have done the same.” I swear the old man had tears in his eyes. I was suddenly ashamed about how little I knew of him outside work. Had he a family, was he even married? At first he had intimidated me. Then when he began to champion me, I kept my distance lest he find out about me and Michael, or see my shortcomings. I was so concerned about my image that I forgot to be personal. Some personnel manager I’d make!

“You’re a kind man, James, this place will suffer without you,” I said as I got in the cab.

“We’ll see, Siobhan, I think my successor can fill my shoes easily, but we’ll talk about that later.” He pressed my hand as I got in the car. It wasn’t in any way sexual or intimidating; it was just a comforting fatherly touch. For a brief moment, I hoped he had children and I hoped they appreciated him. But as far as I knew, he had none. It seemed like such a waste to me. A man with all that love and no children to share it with. It was a fleeting thought right before I sank into wallowing in self-pity.

By the time the cab got to Ruislip, I had three missed calls from Michael. He could go fuck himself. I didn’t answer any of them. Nor the texts, at least not until the one reminding me I was supposed to meet his dad that night. Then I sent him a very scathing reply that perhaps he might prefer to bring his much more than friend to dinner and to stop annoying me as I was suddenly unavailable. I rang Claire at work. I really needed an ally and she had never let me down yet. And it seemed she had been right about Michael all along. She promised she would leave work as soon as possible.

The doorbell started ringing. My head was throbbing. I was trying to control my sobbing. The noise of the bell was cutting through me, but I knew who it was. The twenty-million text messages saying, “Open the door, Shiv,” were a dead giveaway. I went upstairs into Claire’s bedroom, the furthest from the bell, and put my fingers in my ears. I was rocking back and forth in rhythm to my sobs with my eyes closed when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Oh, thank God. It was Claire. When I saw her, I took my fingers out and realised the bell had stopped, but it was still sounding like tinnitus.