Darkest (21 page)

Eventually he raises his head. “How are you feeling today, Miss Byrne?”

Miss Byrne.
This seems promising.

“I’m fine. Today’s a day when it’s good to be alive.”

“Mmm, I think so too. So, Miss Byrne, how would you like to celebrate this delightful new dawn of ours?”

“I want something hard, and sharp. Something I can feel.”

“I think I can promise you that, Miss Byrne.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“A lot? I want it to hurt a lot.”

“Ah, Miss Byrne, you have a tendency towards self-destruction. I remember it well. But yes, this will hurt a lot. Are you up for it?”

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

“Come on then.” He kisses me again, briefly, before sliding from the car and coming around to the passenger side to open my door for me. Courteously he offers his hand and helps me from the car. We stroll towards the lift, at ease with each other.

“How long do we have?” I ask the question as the floor numbers flick by and the lift glides smoothly upwards. I can’t help but recall the last time Nathan and I came up in this lift together, and the disastrous end to that visit. As if reading my mind Nathan drapes his arm over my shoulders and pulls me to him, tangling his hand in my hair. He kisses the top of my head before replying, “As long as we like. As long as we need. Grace and Victoria can look after our girls for us.”

Our girls.
That has a nice ring to it. And they are ours, both of them. Tempting though the prospect of a night here in the apartment with Nathan might be, I know I want to go home tonight. Back to both our girls.

Despite the anticipation of pleasure that’s not so very far away now, and the pain I crave, I can’t prevent the shudder that ripples through me as we enter the apartment. I recall vividly where Susanna stood, where she walked, her words, her beautiful, vindictive smile as she calmly demolished my world.

“It’s done, over with. Let it go, Eva.” Again, Nathan is in my head, knowing what I’m thinking, my bitter regret at what happened and my foolishness in letting her win.

“I was so stupid…” I whisper. “Such a gullible fool.”

“You are many things, Eva, but you and I both know that stupid is definitely not one of them. You were confused. You were shocked, hurt. And you made a wrong call. Then you made a right one, and you came back. So now, here we are again. Together. So just let it go, love.” He is standing behind me, his breath on my neck as he lifts my hair from my shoulders, drops the soothing, forgiving words in my ear. I sigh, lean into him.

“You’ll find a new piece of equipment in the bedroom. I’d like to try it out.”

“Okay.” I don’t even ask what it is. It doesn’t matter. He’s promised me something I can feel—pain and the inevitable pleasure to follow. And my Nathan the Dom always delivers.

“I’d like you to go into the bedroom and undress. You can keep your pants on for now if you like, but I’d like you to place these inside yourself. You’ll find lubricant in the chest at the bottom of the bed if you need it. Can you do that?”

He is holding his hand out in front of me, and in his palm are two egg-shaped objects, fastened together on a slender nylon cord. I take them from him and nod briefly. I understand what I’m to do.

“Good, I appreciate your cooperation, Miss Byrne.”

Wonderful. Now that does sound promising.

He continues, inclining his head towards the bedroom door to suggest that I should be getting on my way. “You’ll spot what’s new straight away. I’d like you to position yourself on it and I’ll be in soon to fasten the restraints.”

I nod once more, and walk silently into the bedroom to prepare myself as instructed.

It’s a St Andrews cross, a huge diagonal cross made of polished oak. Quite beautiful, in a macabre, medieval sort of way. The restraints are positioned at the four points and in the centre, soft leather straps for wrists and ankles and a larger one for around the waist.
My
wrists and ankles.
My
waist.

It’s to be a whipping, then. I shiver. It’s a long time since Nathan has had a whip in his hand, at least not around me. I admit to a certain puzzlement regarding his decision to acquire the St Andrew’s cross, but decide to leave any questions for later. He told me he hasn’t had any other submissives in the time I’ve been away and I believe him. I really do. I’ve learnt a lot about the importance of trust.

I quickly slip out of my clothes, including my pants. There’s nothing I want to keep hidden from Nathan, even temporarily. This day is a new beginning for us. For me. Now I’m his. And he’s mine. And here we are, playing out our scene.

Naked, I lie on my back on the bed, my legs spread wide, my knees bent, and carefully insert the eggs into my pussy. I’m already deliciously wet, no lubricant required. Nathan has always been able to have that effect on me. I stand carefully, slowly, half expecting the eggs to come sliding out but they don’t. My pussy clenches, wrapping itself around them, gripping them, gently holding them in place. I move towards the cross and feel the sensation immediately, the rolling, undulating pressure deep within as the unevenly weighted eggs shift inside me with every move I make. It feels wonderful. I squeeze, remembering the previous time we played with something similar, in Tom’s barn last summer. I experiment now with the glorious self-induced internal massage. It’s a little bit like the anal beads that I remember quite vividly from when I was last here, but maybe a little gentler. Possibly a little less intense.

At last, moaning already with pleasure, I step up to the cross and fasten the waist restraint around myself, buckling it at my side. Then I place my wrists through the leather bracelets, and slip my feet into the straps at the bottom two points. And I wait.

Nathan doesn’t keep me waiting long. Only a couple of minutes, hardly anything at all in Dom time. Just enough time to help me anticipate what’s to come, and to continue to explore the pleasurable feeling of those lovely little eggs doing their delightful rocking and rolling thing inside me My forehead resting against the oak beam in from of me, I tense in surprise as the eggs suddenly start to vibrate inside me. Activated and controlled remotely by Nathan, my desire starts to build and peak as I hear the door open. Then the quiet click as he closes it behind him. I remain still, in my place on the cross. I know better by now than to attempt to move until my Dom instructs me that I should. I listen intently, hear his soft footsteps as he crosses the room, barefoot I think, to where I stand, waiting patiently for him.

“You like them, Miss Byrne? Our new toys?” He makes no move to touch me yet, but I am aware of him standing behind me. Close behind me.

“Yes, I like them.” My response is simple. I’ll ask him about the cross later. For now, I’m here to sample, to savour, to enjoy.

“Good. Me too.” He leans above me to tighten the wrist restraints then crouches at my feet to secure my ankles in place. “Not too tight, Miss Byrne?” he asks solicitously.

“No, I’m fine,” I reply. How polite we are.

Nathan steps away and I hear the familiar sound of the lid on the chest at the foot of his huge bed being lifted then clattering back to rest against the footboard as he reaches inside. He takes his time, careful in making his selections. At last he straightens, closes the lid and comes to stand behind me once more.

“Your safe word, Miss Byrne, is it still the same or do you want to choose a new one?”

“Will I need it?”

He responds with a severity I now know to be mock, but convincing even so. To the untutored ear. “Miss Byrne, you scare me sometimes. You have a reckless streak and I intend to cure you of it. Yes, you
will
need your safe word today. So what is it to be?”

“Red, then, as usual.”

“Thank you.”

Then I jump, startled by the light caress on my shoulder before he scoops up my hair and pushes it forward, off my back. He steps away slightly. I hear the faint rustle as he picks something up, turns back to me. “No last minute change of heart then, Miss Byrne?” His voice is soft, but the familiar steel of the hardened Dom is there, threaded through his tone, menacing but comforting in equal measure. He is Master here, and therefore I’m safe.

“No. I want this. Please. Please, Nathan…” And I yelp in pain as the first blow lands.

The whip has fallen across my shoulders and back. Despite my eager enthusiasm of moments ago I can’t help the expletive that bursts from my lips. “Christ, fucking hell, Nathan…”

“Miss Byrne?” His question hangs in the air between us, unspoken but clearly stated. I gasp for a few seconds, collect my scattered wits before I settle back into position, rest my forehead once more on the massive wooden frame of the cross.

“Please, continue,” I whisper.

Four, five, six, seven. Each time the whip falls, my whole body tenses and I cry out, I can’t help myself. This hurts so much. And so beautifully. Every tense clenching that he forces through my helpless body causes the eggs deep within me to increase their delicious pressure, my desire to mount further. I’m gasping, moaning, no longer able to separate the pleasure from the pain. Not sure, not even caring where one begins and the other ends.

The regular, repetitive blows are strangely hypnotic and I find myself relaxing into them, accepting. Welcoming the pain and riding it, a part of it but detached, too. At times it’s like watching myself from outside my own body, as if this torture is happening to someone else. But at the same time I’m right there in the heart of it. Or it’s at the heart of me.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen. The pain builds, grows, expands to fill every corner of me. I hurt everywhere, my back and shoulders are on fire, there’s now nothing else in this world apart from me and that whip. And those wonderful, glorious eggs massaging me gently from within. I’m so close to orgasm that I scream with frustration as I feel my body sag, the bite of the restraints on my wrists tightening as I’m no longer able to support my own weight, melting into the cross.

“I have you.” Nathan’s arm is around my middle, supporting me as he releases first my wrists, then my ankles, carrying me swiftly to the bed. He lays me down on my stomach, and slides his hand between my legs to finish the job. He strokes my clitoris, at first delicately then firmly as I groan, loud and hard, my hips thrusting upwards to offer myself to him. Wordlessly begging him to help me.

“Come, come for me now, beautiful Eva. Come, Angel.”

The soft command is all I need, and the tsunami of orgasm, powerful, beautiful and quite overwhelming rocks my world. I shudder, gasping as wave after wave of pure, sweet ecstasy flows through me, all other sensations pushed aside, starting at my core and radiating outwards to every extremity.

Only as the last tremors fade does Nathan gently remove the sweet little eggs before lifting my hips between his hands, raising me up enough for him to slide into me from behind, gently, sweetly.

“Let me love you, beautiful Eva. Let me make love to you. Please, now…”

“Yes,” I murmur. “Yes, yes, yes…” And it isn’t until afterwards that I realise what he said—‘make love’, not his usual ‘fucking’. Not until he slides out of me, rolls onto his back and pulls me over him to lie on top, gazing down into his face.

“I think you got into the zone back there. You had a good time, didn’t you?”

I wince, conscious of the sharp stinging still evident across my back every time I move, then I nod. It had hurt, hurt like crazy, but I know what he meant about the zone, that strange, almost trance-like state between pain and pleasure where I had found myself floating, suspended within my own body before my legs gave way. It was a little bit like being drunk, sort of detached and floating, observing and participating at the same time. And it felt absolutely fabulous, truly wonderful.

Nathan grins, his tone teasing. “Maybe you do have what it takes to be a decent submissive after all.” Then, “Kiss me, Miss Byrne.” His tone is low now, seductive, his smile soft. His eyes are deep, bottomless, and I just adore him. I’ll always adore him.

“Not Miss Byrne,” I whisper. He frowns, quirks his head, questioning. “Mrs Darke has a nicer ring to it, I think. If your offer still stands…?”

“Oh, it still stands, Miss Byrne. It definitely still stands. Now be a good little sub and do as you’re told for once. Kiss me.” I lower my lips to his, and do exactly as I’m told.

* * * *

And now, another week has gone by. A week in which I’ve watched everyone around me caring for Isabella, smiling at her, holding her and cuddling her, and I want to snatch her back. She’s mine. Isn’t she? Could she be?

Most mornings now I wake up and I can see the sunlight. I feel happy. Well, happier. I’ve come to expect days to be good, to anticipate nice things happening to me. I find myself laughing, looking forward to tomorrow, making plans. We haven’t told the rest of our household that Mrs Darke might be joining us soon, but Nathan and I are talking about it, tentatively planning the future together.

I expect happiness now, contentment, and so that’s exactly what I’m finding. My own self-fulfilling prophecy. I’ve been out on the moors a few times with Nathan, Rosie and Barney. And with Ashley. Sweet little Ashley who has her own interesting secrets, I suspect. I asked Nathan about his recent additions to his erotic paraphernalia and was stunned to learn that he didn’t buy the St Andrews cross—Tom did. There are questions I’d like to ask Ashley, notes to compare perhaps, maybe, when we know each other better.

I’ve even been playing my violin again. I felt a bit sheepish having to ask Rosie to let me have it back but she relinquished it readily enough. Our duets are rusty but coming along okay. I soon feel tired, I usually do these days, and any activity doesn’t last long. But I’m enjoying myself at last. As long as I don’t have to deal with Isabella.

But this morning I’m awake, before dawn, and I want her. I want my baby so much it hurts. I can’t bear to be parted from Isabella a moment longer. Nathan’s still asleep so I slide out of bed slowly, carefully. Nude as usual when sharing Nathan’s bed, I reach for a robe, before creeping silently out of his room and along the dark corridor, to Rosie’s. To Isabella.