Secrets After Dark (29 page)

I can tell that Dominic is finding this scenario exciting. The slave girl scene has stimulated him, and his toying with my clitoris gets rougher as his breathing comes faster. He plunges his fingers into me, first two, then three, then he’s knitted all four together and is thrusting them into me while his thumb rubs over my clit. I let my senses accept what he is doing, feeling waves of excitement, but every now and then, I lose my connection with my desire and feel pain instead, the scraping of his fingers within me, the sting on my clit of too fierce attentions before the bud is properly ready for such treatment.

He stops his work on me and unties me. I let my arms drop down, relieved that the pressure on my muscles is gone. My hands sting and tingle as the blood flow returns, but I have little time to think about that.

‘Lie on your stomach on the floor,’ he orders. I drop obediently to the cold marble floor and lie on my front. The marble cools my swollen sex and I rest my cheek on it. Dominic takes something from his pocket and places it in the centre of my back. It feels like a small leather cross with the coldness of metal at its centre.
What is it?

Now he has picked up the rope again. I can see him from the corner of my eye as he takes its length and prepares it with expert speed. He takes one of my arms and folds it so that my elbow is above my head and my hand downwards, almost on the back of my neck. He pulls my other arm down in the same way and wraps the rope firmly around my wrists before tethering it to the leather cross on my back. He winds the rope around the cross so that it’s now hanging free below the cross. Then he grasps my ankle and bends my leg at the knee so that my heel is against my thigh, then he lashes it in place. He does the same with the other leg and then takes the rope that links both legs and threads it through the central cross again. He pulls the rope and I feel it tighten, pulling my arms and legs and stretching my spine so that my head rears back.

I’m hog-tied,
I realise. The sensation is of painful, muscle-wrenching helplessness. I feel a choking sensation in my neck, even though nothing is tied there; the collar I’m wearing presses down on my windpipe when the rope is pulled and my head is forced back.

Panic shoots through me.
I don’t like this.
I’m struggling to assess how this makes me feel and whether my initial dislike for the position will pass. I know that sometimes I have to relax and trust in order to control discomfort and fear... but that’s not happening now. I feel Dominic kneeling between my legs. He puts his hands under my hips, forcing my bottom higher, and the next moment, without any preparation, I feel his penis at my entrance and he slams into me, as though he’s put all his force into it.

He begins to fuck hard and fast, giving me his full length with the whole strength of his body behind it, in and out, over and over.

I’m panting but it’s hard to breathe with the collar around my neck pressing down like this. My back is hurting and my arms and legs ache in a powerful way as though the muscles are wrenched out of position. I won’t be able to stand this for long, not from pleasure, but from pain and dizziness, but it’s difficult to focus on what I need to do to get out of this situation. The fierce onslaught is shaking my entire body and I don’t have time to recover from one huge slam before another follows. I’m utterly helpless in my bonds, reduced almost to a torso for Dominic to fuck. Then, to my horror, I realise that when he thrusts, he’s pulling on the rope, stretching my spine even further, pulling the muscles in my limbs into agony and cutting off my oxygen.

For a moment I wonder if this is what it feels like to be on the rack, then I’m flooded with fear. All my sexual desire has died and with it, any pleasure I might have felt with this rough treatment.

He has to stop,
is all I can think. My head feels pressured and swollen, my eyes are blurred. I’m worried that I will pass out in a moment if I can’t stop Dominic. I have no idea if he intends to stop of his own accord or if he’s near his climax.

Use the safe word.

Of course. Relief floods my body. I’ll use it. It’s...

‘Scarlet!’ I cry. It comes out like a stupid little croak. He doesn’t hear it. I gather all my strength and use it again. ‘Scarlet, Dominic, scarlet!’

This time he hears. The effect is immediate. He lets go of my rope and pulls out of me. ‘Beth?’ His voice is high with anxiety. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Stop, please, it’s not working for me, it’s all wrong.’ My throat is sore, I’m still breathless. Dominic works swiftly and a moment later, I’m sitting upright, coughing slightly as I rub my wrists and ankles and flex my shoulders. Dominic is beside me, his expression concerned, trying to help.

‘What went wrong?’ he asks. ‘I thought you were really into it.’

I shake my head. ‘Not this time. It was too much. Too extreme.’

‘Really? Was it the ropes? Were they too tight?’

‘They were tight and I found the hog-tying just too much. I didn’t like being reduced in that way. It felt like I’d become a nothing. And...’ I frown and cough again. ‘I didn’t like being restricted in my breathing. Not at all. That’s a definite no-no.’ I look him straight in the eye. ‘Thank you for responding to the safe word.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he says brusquely. ‘Of course I would respond to it. It would be unforgiveable not to.’ His eyes suddenly darken and he says grimly, ‘I just wish that it hadn’t come to using it, that’s all. I’m a fool.’

‘No you’re not,’ I say softly. ‘You were trying out new things. You’re not to know what’s too much for me unless I tell you. I like some of the things you do with rope, but I don’t want to be tied up all the time, and I don’t want to be trussed like an animal. That much we now know.’

He’s staring at the floor as though some terrible battle is raging within him. ‘I should have known,’ he says stubbornly. ‘I know you, Beth. I know what you like and respond to and what you don’t. I got carried away and began to flex my power on you, beyond what I knew you could take.’

‘The master-and-slave scenario is always going to create the possibility of going too far,’ I say gently. ‘We have to be prepared. We’ll just learn from our mistakes, that’s all. And the safe word worked, didn’t it?’

It seems a little strange that I’m comforting him after the physical experience I’ve just had, but I can tell that it’s shaken him up.
And last time this happened, he vanished. I don’t want to risk that happening again.
‘It’s okay, Dominic, really.’ I wrap my arms around him and kiss him tenderly but I can feel that he’s distant. ‘Why don’t we go back to bed and just do what comes naturally to us? We don’t need a scene tonight, do we?’

He kisses me back and smiles a little ruefully. ‘Bed sounds good,’ he says. ‘But I think I’m all done as far as sex is concerned.’ He puts a hand over mine. ‘I’m sorry.’

I kiss his neck, inhaling his sweet scent. ‘That’s okay,’ I say softly. ‘And please, don’t make it an issue. It’s fine, really.’

Dominic grunts a little but says nothing else. I can tell that behind his silence, his mind is racing and I wonder what on earth he is thinking.

Chapter Sixteen

On Monday morning I approach Albany in a whirl of emotions. Dominic and I parted first thing this morning with kisses and tenderness, but the events of last night lay between us.

I’m lost in thought as I walk along Piccadilly, part of the stream of people heading to work. I’m oblivious to them, though, I can only think of Dominic.

Why does it all have to be so difficult? Why can’t we just love each other like normal couples?

It seems so unfair that a man I adore and who is perfect for me in every way should have this kink, and even though I’ve accepted it, and even welcomed the excitement and adventure it’s brought to my life, it’s still causing problems.

I can do without using any whipping or flogging instruments if that’s what Dominic wants, even if my imagination persists in tantalising me with fantasies of the feathery tails of the suede flogger kissing and warming my bottom. But will his desire to take things to extremes just come out in different ways? And is he going to be tortured with doubt about himself every time I use the safe word?

Everything is churning inside me as I walk through the Albany courtyard and approach the main house. The grey Bentley convertible is parked outside so I know Andrei is there. Great. That’s all I need. He wants a full report from me today as well.

I can’t wait for this job to be over.
I don’t know how many times I’ve thought that in the past week, but more than ever I long to be back working for Mark, as I was before Andrei Dubrovski became so involved in my life. It was so much easier when he was just Dominic’s boss, a faceless no one who meant nothing to me.

Marcia is sitting in the office, back at her desk after her vigil by her mother’s bedside. She’s ecstatic to see me, as though I’m her oldest friend and we’ve been separated for years. She’s practically weeping in my arms at seeing me again. Once I’ve managed to prise myself free, she tells me that her mother is much better and on the road to full recovery.

‘That’s great, Marcia. I’m so pleased for you both.’        

‘She’s a dear old bat,’ Marcia says fondly. ‘I’d miss her terribly if she went, so let’s hope she’s around for a little longer yet.’

She chats on for a while and I’m grateful when she finally returns to her screen to start work, muttering under her breath about the mess Edward has made of her systems. I spend the morning writing a report for Andrei but there’s no sign of him.

‘Is Andrei about?’ I ask Marcia at lunch.

She shakes her head. ‘He went out early today, on foot. I’m not sure what he’s up to. Things always get a bit confused when a big deal is about to close.’

I’m relieved. I want as little to do with him as possible and the thought of seeing him again after the way our last interview ended fills me with dread. I spend the afternoon taking photographs of the works of art I want to hang in the flat and making sketches of the various rooms so that I can play about with the images and see how things will look where. It’s absorbing and rather entertaining – I feel like a child with a sticker book that can be rearranged at will.

When the end of the day comes there’s still no sign of Andrei, but when I return to my inbox, I find an email from Dominic:

Thanks for a lovely weekend, gorgeous. I’m sorry it didn’t end in the way it started, but please be sure that I’m taking steps to resolve my issues. I’ve already gone far along the road but it’s clear I’m not there yet. Just hang in there for me, and we’ll be fine, I promise. I won’t see you much this week but why don’t we go away when all this stuff is over? Just the two of us. Then I can show just how much you mean to me.

I’ll thinking of you and all the delicious things we do until we can be together again...

 
Dx

The idea of going away with Dominic is thrilling. I imagine a hot beach, a beautiful hotel room and hours to do exactly as we please. But what does he mean by resolving his issues? I hope it doesn’t mean he is going to disappear for weeks like he did last time, but his email implies we’ll be together in a matter of days, so I put the anxiety to the back of my mind.

Just as I’m packing up my things to escape home to meet Laura for our kick-boxing class and have an early night, another email appears in my inbox, this time from Andrei.

Beth

Apologies that I haven’t been around for our promised meeting. If you have an hour to spare now, can you meet me at my club? Marcia will arrange a taxi for you.

I read the terse message a couple of times, exasperated.
He doesn’t even bother to sign off.
He expects me to drop everything and come running, whenever he wants me to. I’m really looking forward to getting away and if I meet him now, there’s a chance I won’t be back in time for class. I sigh.
Better to get it over with. After all, soon he won’t have any call on me.

I fire back an email to say I’ll be there right away, and ask Marcia to sort out a taxi. It’s in the courtyard practically before I’ve finished talking, so I head out, my report in my bag. The taxi is waiting, engine running, and I climb in. As we pull out of the courtyard into the busy Piccadilly traffic, the city is already glittering with lights in the early evening darkness. The streets are busy with shoppers and the store windows glow golden and enticing. There is the hint of Christmas already in the air. The taxi turns left towards Piccadilly Circus, and we crawl around it, hampered by traffic lights, buses and unwary pedestrians. When at last we’ve got free, it’s still slow progress down Haymarket and into Pall Mall. The driver takes me all the way along almost to St James’s Palace before coming to a halt in front of a vast stone building that looks like some Regency mansion. Through the open front doors I can see a red carpet and a huge brass chandelier with dozens of lights glittering from its curved arms.

This is ridiculous. I could have walked here in about five minutes.

‘Fare’s taken care of, ma’am,’ says the driver.

‘Thank you.’ I climb out of the taxi and stand in front of the huge imposing building. London is so full of places like this: grand and rather forbidding, with the sense of an exclusive life of privilege going on behind those doors.
Well, today the doors are open to me – even if I’d rather they weren’t.
My flat and a night in with Laura hold infinitely more allure than this. Sighing, I set my shoulders and march up the steps.