Red Skye at Night (27 page)

“What’s going on in your head, girl?” He shoots me a sideways glance, his voice that low growl that always sets my pussy to throbbing and hardens my nipples in a moment.

“I was just thinking you’d look nice in a kilt.”

“I do. My granddad has several. We all wore them when my eldest uncle got married.”

“What did you keep in your sporran?”

“Girl, a man’s sporran is his own affair. And you know full well what I’d have under my kilt.”

“Can we stop?”

“What, you need the bathroom?” We’d made use of discreetly located stone walls or waist-high heather before now.

“No, I need a fuck. Please.”

Harry doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s getting late. Could get a bit chilly, fucking al fresco.”

“I don’t care. I want you. I want you to fuck me, hard and fast.”

“Sort of therapeutic fucking?”

“Yes, exactly. Now.”

“First place I see that I can stop without blocking the road, and I’m all yours. Be gentle, though.”

“Yeah, like you are.”

“Honey, I do try.” Without warning, Harry signals left and pulls onto the springy grass beside the road.

A small wooden arrow indicates a public footpath a few yards ahead, so we get out of the car, Daisy too, and set off on foot. My plan is to get out of sight of the road, just in case one of the three or four cars a day that pass this way happens along at the wrong moment. Then I’ll jump Harry. He seems to be up for that. Five minutes later, that’s pretty much what I do.

“Here.”

“Looks good.” Harry shrugs off his jacket and throws it onto the heather by our feet. “Do you want me naked for this?”

“No. Not yet anyway.” I drop to my knees on his jacket, positioned right in front of him, and reach for the fastener on his jeans.

Daisy seems to be occupied sniffing at rabbit trails. We can probably leave her to her own devices for a few minutes at least.

“Ah, nice.” Harry’s appreciative murmur is soft, his fingers gentle in my hair as I free his cock from his jeans and boxer shorts. It’s huge, always impressive, the shaft thick, so wide I can barely reach my fingers all the way around it. Still, that’s probably why I have two hands. The head is round, a darker pink than the rest, the top smooth and already coated with pre-cum seeping from the slit at the end. I slide the pad of my thumb across it, tilting my head back to look up at Harry.

I smile at him before announcing my intentions. “This first, then I fuck you till you forget your name. Deal?”

“Perhaps I should have written it down. Forgetting already.”

“Idiot.”

“That’s more spanking you’re owed. I’ll deal with your misdemeanors before we go back to the car. Then I’ll make you drive.”

“Mean bastard.”

“Even more spanking. You’re gonna be sore, honey. Now stop digging yourself in deeper and get my cock in your mouth.”

* * * *

He’s right, I am sore. Harry opted to use his belt in the more traditional manner this time and my bum has six painful welts across it. I feel wonderful.

I screamed as he prepared to thrash me. Harry had to hold me still to administer the six strokes, his hand on my back, his legs trapping both of mine as I flailed and struggled and fought. I was genuinely scared, but would have bitten off my tongue before I’d have used my safe word. I might have been panicking, but I deserved my punishment. I wanted it. I trust Harry to know that, which is why he forced the issue.

I went quite still as soon as the first stripe landed, my head and body sinking straight into subspace. Afterwards he held me until I stopped sobbing, then rolled me onto my back and licked my clit until I came. When I was calm again, he helped me to pull my jeans back up and we started to make our way back to the road.

“What happened to your limp?”

“My… Excuse me?”

“Your limp. It’s gone. Which is particularly surprising, given what just happened back there.”

“It can’t be. I always hobble along.”

“Not right now you don’t. In fact, not for a while.”

“Don’t be…” I stop myself—the blistering treatment my bum has recently been subjected to is having the desired effect on my manners. “I mean, that’s impossible.”

Harry’s smile is wry as he pats my smarting bottom. “Is it? Clearly not. I recall noticing the limp in Leeds, it was especially pronounced as you walked along your street with your bag, just as we were setting off. I thought you’d injured yourself.”

“Yes, I remember. I was so embarrassed.”

“I knew that. You were always trying to hide it. I’d catch you walking slowly, or dropping behind me. You did that a lot in the first day or so.”

Did I? I suppose I must have. Not now, though. It doesn’t even occur to me anymore that there could be an issue. I try to pay attention to the way I’m walking, not easy for an action usually done on autopilot. My limbs feel easy, comfortable. There’s no stiffness, no discomfort apart from the aftermath of my little session over Harry’s knee. I look up at him, frowning.

“I’ve had a limp for years, ever since my accident. It’s settled down a lot, but was always there.”

“Was, honey. Not now. Did anyone ask you about it on Orkney?”

“Well no, but they wouldn’t, would they? It would have been rude, too personal.”

“Perhaps not, although Janet never struck me as having an issue with personal questions. But someone would have mentioned it to me if it was as noticeable as you think. Even if it was just to ask if you’d hurt yourself. No one did. Not a word.”

I stop, turn to face him. “How?” The one word encapsulates it all, my bafflement, my disbelief.

“Not sure, but it’s happened. And it shows that you don’t have to limp. Maybe it’s because you’re on holiday, feeling more relaxed. Perhaps it’s since we started sharing the driving and you don’t spend all day in the same position. You’re getting more exercise, maybe working different muscles. Or perhaps you’re more rested.”

What Harry says does make sense. Certainly something has changed—I do feel very different from the way I did even a week ago. I feel free. I feel happy. I’m enjoying myself. Still, I can’t help making a sardonic response. “I wouldn’t call this trek across the Highlands resting exactly.”

Harry’s lip quirks, his expression pure predator. “And it won’t be getting any easier any time soon. But you are relaxed, Hope. You’re a lot less tense than when we met. Being spanked regularly has done wonders for your mental well-being.”

I can’t help but smile at the irony of that. “It seems like it. I wonder if spanking therapy should be available on the NHS.”

“Perhaps. You can recommend it next time you see your physio.”

“I don’t have a physio. I haven’t for years.”

“Well, I suggest we make you an appointment with one, get this sudden improvement checked out. If we can work out how it happened, we can probably make sure the improvement lasts. No backsliding.”

I start to protest. I tend to avoid medical check-ups as much as possible—I reckon I’ve had my share of those over the years. Harry grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“No arguing, sub. First chance we get, you’re seeing a physiotherapist. Unless you think more spanking therapy might be required?”

I glare at him and consider a mutiny, but think better of it. I shake my head. “No, Sir, I’m sure I’ve had enough therapy for the time being.”

“Right then. Your turn to drive.” He drops a kiss on the top of my head, then turns to call for Daisy.

She isn’t there. Harry’s little brown and white shadow, the dog who follows him everywhere, and sleeps at his feet when she can, is not there. Nowhere in sight.

“Daisy.
Daisy!”
Harry calls for her, his voice carrying across the empty moorland. Nothing. He whistles, the sound piercing. Still no answering yelp. No rustle of heather. Just silence, stillness. No Daisy.

“Where the fuck is she?” Harry scans the area around us. The mountains in the distance surround us with their majestic presence, but the landscape closer to us is relatively flat. No woodland, no buildings, nowhere to hide. Nowhere to get lost.

“Could she have wandered off?” Even as I say the words I know how unlikely that is. Daisy usually needs to be forcibly removed from Harry’s side—no way has she gone off adventuring on her own.

Harry is already starting back the way we came, calling for the little dog. I trot along after him, beginning to be really worried. She’s only been with us a few days, but we’re both incredibly attached to our little Daisy. We can’t have lost her. We just can’t.

“We should have looked after her better. We weren’t even keeping an eye on her.” I’m racked with guilt. I’d been so wrapped up in my own pleasure, then in my punishment, I never gave the dog a thought. “I can’t even remember when I last saw her. She could be miles away.”

“No, she won’t be.” Harry’s tone is one of certainty, of confidence. “She was there when you were sucking my cock, and again when I took my belt to you. I had to tell her to leave us alone. I think she thought I was hurting you.”

“You
were
hurting me.”

“You know what I mean. But the point is, she was with us then. She can’t have got that far.”

We make our way back to the spot where the heather is still flattened from our play. We stop, turning through three hundred and sixty degrees, Harry calling as loud as he can. I leave that to him—his voice is bigger than mine. I’m listening and watching. Looking for any clue, any sign that Daisy is still nearby. There’s nothing.

We stand still, surveying the miles and miles of empty wilderness surrounding us. Where to start?

Then I hear it. Or think I do. Faint, muffled. A yelp?

“Wait, listen.” I grab Harry’s arm. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what? No, I didn’t hear anything.”

I raise a finger signaling silence. We both tip up our chins, our ears attuned to even the faintest sound. Again. There it is again. Yes, surely. I turn to Harry, my eyebrows raised in inquiry.

“Yes, I heard that.” He looks around then cups his hands around his mouth. “Daisy. Daisy!”

We both hear the sharp answering yelp, high-pitched, distressed.

“She’s near here somewhere. Can you see her?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, but it sounded to come from over there.” He points to where the moorland slopes gently upwards, away from where we’re standing, in the opposite direction from the car. He reaches for my hand. “Come on. And watch your step. If she’s got caught in a trap or something like that, there could be more about.”

“A trap?”

“Yes. For rabbits, perhaps. Surely they have poachers here.”

Probably. I pick my way after Harry with care, both of us now calling to Daisy and listening for her answering yelps.

Her barking does sound muffled, but is definitely getting louder. We’re close. I know it. She sounds to be almost under our feet. Harry stops, I huddle close behind him. Daisy is barking furiously, her cries more confident. She doesn’t sound to be in pain, which might rule out the rabbit trap theory, but she’s certainly stuck somewhere or she’d be charging back at us.

“Where is she? What the…? Shit!” Harry steps forward, then halts, swaying forward as I bump into him. “Look, she’s down there.”

He crouches and pulls back a lump of heather to reveal a narrow hole, more a crevice really. It’s perhaps two feet wide and about eight or nine feet in length. And without doubt Daisy’s frantic barks are coming from down there.

“She must have fallen in. Can you see her?” I drop to my knees next to Harry, leaning over to peer into the dark space opening beneath our feet.

“Yeah, there. She’s about six feet down.” He fishes in his back pocket for his phone and swipes his fingers across the screen to bring up the torch app. He flashes it around the entrance to the chasm. We can see Daisy quite clearly, trotting up and down along a narrow ledge. As long as she doesn’t fall from there, she’s safe for the time being, but there’s no way we can reach her.

“How are we going to get her out?” Even as I ask, I know the answer. One of us is going down that hole. And I know which one it has to be. Harry’s shoulders are too broad to be able to maneuver in there. Even if he could get to the ledge without getting stuck himself, he wouldn’t be able to bend to pick Daisy up. I could, though. I could easily lift her up and pass her to Harry, then he could pull me out.

“There’s a rope in the car. I’ll go get it. You stay here. Better if you stand up so I can see you and find this spot again.” Harry springs to his feet and sets off back in the direction of the car at a sprint.

I do as he said, standing up but talking to Daisy all the time. The last thing we need now is for her to try to scramble out and end up tumbling from the ledge. The hole could be God knows how deep below her.

It takes me a few moments to register what rope Harry has in mind. It’s not an item of equipment I normally carry in my boot. But I recall he bought the length of rope at the DIY store in Perth, clearly intending to use it to tie me up at some stage. That must be what he’s gone to fetch now.

Sure enough, he’s back after a few minutes, breathless but carrying the rope looped over his shoulder. He drops it to the ground and leans over to inspect Daisy’s continuing predicament.

“Okay, girl, we’ll soon have you out of there.” He starts to fashion a large loop at one end of the rope. “I’ll go down and get her. If I get the rope around her, you can pull her out.”

“No, that’s too dangerous. How are you going to get the rope round her? And what if you get stuck? I’d never be able to pull you free.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” He clearly doesn’t expect me to come up with anything as he finishes tying his loop and starts to step into it.

“Yes actually. I’ll go down. I’m much smaller. I’ll be able to move about easily. I can pick Daisy up, pass her to you. Then you can reach down and pull me out too. I’ll tie the rope around me for safety, just in case I slip off the ledge.”

“No way. You can’t go clambering down there, honey. I won’t let you do that.”

I take a deep breath before I step up to him, but I’m ready to make a stand, to challenge his authority. It won’t happen often.