Fractured Crystal: Sapphires and Submission (9 page)

Kris opened her mouth to speak, but the words would not come forward. Flashback. Tied up. Buttocks blazing. The humiliation. Unbidden, some words came. “Don’t hurt me,” she whispered quietly.

Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed and he stood up, coming forward to her. He bent down and spoke, extremely quietly, so that even in the silence of the room she had to strain to hear. “Are you sure you don’t want me to hurt you? Are you really certain of that?”

She said nothing, but the trembling of her body was an ambiguous reply. His mouth was mere millimetres away from her ear, and she could feel his breath upon her neck. He straightened up slightly.

“While I really can’t be bothered with a contract,” he told her, “you do need something so that you don’t feel utterly defenceless. Think of a word
—
a word that you don’t use in daily life, but that has some significant meaning to you. It will be your safe word. Whenever you use it, whatever I’m doing I’ll stop immediately
—
I promise you that. But understand this: simply saying ‘no’ or asking me to stop won’t be enough. It needs to be a word that you have thought up consciously, so that I know it’s your true will behind the request. Do you understand?”

Kris nodded. She was utterly confused, uncertain whether to be reassured or frightened by the absolute calmness with which Daniel was speaking. And yet, in his complete confidence, there was also something that excited her.

“What’s your word, then?”

She thought for a moment. “Alfama,” she said at last. She saw his brow crease a little as he searched his memory for the meaning of the word. “It’s in Lisbon. A place where I’ve always wanted to live.”

This made him smile broadly. “Excellent,” he told her.

“And if I say this... you’ll stop whatever it is you’re doing?” The question itself made her nervous.

“Of course. Here, let me demonstrate.” Without warning, Daniel shot up his hand and sank his fingers into her hair, yanking her head sideways so that she almost fell sideways.

The suddenness of his action, as well as the violence of his motion, caused Kris first of all to panic. Then, as he began to pull her around the room, dragging her so that the roots of her hair really hurt in a way that was not the slightest bit appealing or erotic, unlike their rough and tumble the day before, she became angry.

“Daniel!” she hollered, striking his arm with her fists. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Stop it! Let go!”

Her blows became stronger, but he refused to let go, and twisting herself around to try and break free of his iron grip simply hurt her more. “Ow!” she yelped. “You’re hurting me! Let go!”

“Say it,” he told her calmly. “Say it, and I’ll stop.”

“Say what!” In her familiar anger and frustration she had completely forgotten what they had been talking about.

“Say your word, and I’ll stop.”

“Are you fucking serious? Okay! Okay! Alfama! Now, stop it!”

He had already released her as soon as she uttered the place name, and her face came up red and furious with him. Without thinking, she balled her hand into a fist and struck him as hard as she could in the chest, a blow that made him stagger back one step
—
more to absorb the blow than out of pain or surprise.

“You’re a fucking nutter!” she told him.

“Perhaps,” he said. “But I
promise you this
: say that
word
and I’ll stop whatever it is I’m doing.”

“What, if I just tell you Af-” Before she could finish, he had placed his hand over her mouth, a strong and powerful grip that made her eyes go wide as she wondered if he would hurt her again.

“There’s just one additional thing. I don’t want your safe word becoming a litany, a daily drone, a whine whenever you encounter something you don’t like. I want to push you, Kris. I want you to push yourself, to find out what you’re really capable of. Because of this, you can only say your special word three times. Treat it as something sacred. On the third time you utter it, you have to leave here. I don’t want you in this house any more. If... if you’re capable of even half the things I think you are, then you need to display some... stoicism, shall we say?”

His hand hand relaxed on her mouth, and she realised that this time he had no intention of hurting her. He simply wanted her to listen. But... stoicism? What the hell? Who the hell was this man?

“So,” she said when he finally, slowly removed his hand. “You’re telling me that as soon as I say Af- my safe word three times, then that’s it. It’s finished. Right?”

“Well, actually, you’ve already used it once, so that leaves you two more times.”

Kris was incredulous. “You are fucking joking, right? That last time doesn’t count, does it? I mean...”

But Daniel was no longer listening. He had once more returned to her drawings. “How often do you sketch or paint?”

“Don’t you change the subject!” she almost howled at him in frustration. “Are you telling me that I’ve got to abide by every nutty rule you come up with?”

At this he smiled. “Only for the next nine days,” he told her. With one hand resting on her open drawing pad, he gestured towards the front door with his other. “You’re welcome to leave any time. I’m not joking. Only please don’t come back
—
I’m not joking about that, either. Now, answer my question, please. How often do you sketch? You’ve got real talent. I’m interested.”

Kris stared back towards the entrance, genuinely wondering whether she could call it quits now. At the same time, his final comment piqued her curiosity. “Not as much as I should.”

“Why?” he asked. His hazel eyes were watching her now, curious, searching her face.

“I don’t know. Real life gets in the way, I suppose.”

“Real life.” He smiled and dropped his gaze back to the drawings in his hands. “You think this isn’t real life?” he asked, more to himself than her. “There is necessity and there is desire, and the two are often in conflict, but both are real. Both are very real indeed.” He returned his eyes to her face. “The secret
—
the often painful secret, Ms Avelar
—
is to find a way for both necessity and desire to exist together, to submit both of them to our will.”

She frowned at him, unable to understand a word that he was saying now.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” she told him bluntly. This made him smile.

“You think you came here to fuck,” he said, standing slowly, his hands reaching down to the belt that was wrapped around his jeans. “I’m telling you that before you can really find yourself, Ms Avelar, you must first learn some discipline.”

He had taken her thoroughly that day
—
completely and utterly, in a way that put their previous sex to shame. But if she had been expecting something weird, or perverse, or frightening, that was not the case. He fucked her with abandon, certainly. He thought nothing of holding her down as he penetrated her deeply, stretching her to her very womb, and she had cried with equal abandon, slashing across his chest, his arms, his back with her nails, but if this man was in any way particularly kinky he did not show it that day. Her sex was sore, of that there could be no doubt, and
well used;
but aside from rising up and down upon her, or throwing her on her hands and knees so that he could take her from behind, he had been almost gentlemanly in his attention to her pleasures, not even expecting him to fellate him in return to the oral attentions he had given her.

And, God! Did he have stamina! She realised that she had come to expect ten minute sex as the norm, so much so that fifteen minutes appeared to her a marvellous feat, with twenty minutes something divine. But he had held himself from ejaculating, which itself had driven her almost mad with desire and frustration so that she beat him repeatedly with her fists. When he did at last cum inside her, the orgasm it triggered had, at one point, caused her to
actually black out for a second
.

Sometime in the night, she had f
inally fallen asleep, exhausted
. Her body was filthy in her own perspiration, and normally she would have felt disgusted at lying in a bed soaking in such sweat, but this time she was too tired
—
and happy
—
to care. When she awoke, morning light was entering the croft and she was alone in the bed, but there was still a warmth to the sheets beside her. He had been here not long before.

Reaching across, she felt the damp sheets and scrunched them beneath her fingers, dragging them up towards her face. She sank her nostrils into the sheet, breathing
—
no, sucking up the scent of their lovemaking. Again, this was something unheard of: certain physical facts of her body, of any body, had always repulsed Kris before, but now the odour of their sex made her thighs tremble and her loins ache.

Not that these were the only part of her that ached, though she doubted she would be able to walk far that day. Oh, God, she thought to herself. I haven’t fucked like that since I was a teenager. In truth, she had never fucked like that
—
although her youthful enthusiasm had perhaps come close a couple of times. She remembered a young lad, a tall, gangly boy who was possibly the only male she had ever slept with who came anywhere close to Daniel in the cock department. For one, glorious summer when she was seventeen, they had fucked and fucked and fucked whenever possible, lacking expertise but more than making up for it with their animal passion. They had been crazy for each other
—
then, for some reason she could never explain, she had simply woken up one day no longer in love with him.

She hadn’t thought about him for years, she suddenly realised, and the memory of that young lad made her feel strangely sad. Or, perhaps, it was the memory of herself as a seventeen year old, with all the possibilities of life before her.

No. She refused to allow herself to fall into despondency. Rather than this, she pushed herself from the bed. Time to go and find out what her new master had in store for her.

Her entire body
was throbbing
, not just between her legs. Some modicum of decency was returning to her
—
not so much the urge to get dressed as the desire to clean away some of the funk that had settled on her body as she slept. Turning on the tap, she frowned as hot water failed to come through and then remembered the damn boiler downstairs. Sighing and shaking her head, she splashed cold water across her body and found out a relatively clean towel with which to dry herself.

Walking downstairs, still naked, she entered the kitchen. Daniel was seated with his back to her, himself naked from the waist up. God! She was astounded by two things: first the broad span of his back, with his muscles clearly visible across his shoulders and only the smallest amount of fatty flesh about his midriff. Secondly, she couldn’t help but notice the patchwork of scratches across his skin
—
half of which was probably still buried beneath her fingernails.

Suddenly self-conscious of both the small bruises and
love bites
across her torso, as well as the fact that though she guessed she was a decade younger than Daniel, her own waist was not
as svelte as it once had been. S
he wished that she had at least put a shirt on before coming down to breakfast. Hearing her, Daniel turned his head and smiled at her, his curly dark hair and beard now a pleasant contrast to his face. Even his scars were beginning to turn her on, for heaven’s sake!

“Good morning,” he said. “I didn’t want to disturb you just yet. Do you always appear naked in front of strange men?”

“Only ones who fuck me as thoroughly as you,” she responded in as
light-hearted
a fashion as she could. Damn! She just wanted to jump him now, and had to fight with every fibre of her body to maintain control. Pretending what insouciance as she could, she draped her arms across his strong shoulders and kissed him gently on his head.

The breakfast laid out in front of her was bread, apples, cheese and some orange juice.

“Hmm...” she observed, looking askance at the bits and pieces on the table. “I really must remember to put in an order for a cooked breakfast at this hotel, Mister Logan.”

He laughed at this, breaking a strip of bread in his thick fingers and pushing it hungrily into his mouth before responding: “If you want to cook, then you’ll have to prepare the stove.”

She looked at the range. Although clean, it was also obviously quite ancient and she had no real idea where to begin. “I’ll leave that to you, if you don’t mind.”

Daniel shook his head. “I’m afraid that isn’t part of the deal. If you want to stay here, you have to pull your weight. That’s the virtue of living in a place like this: you actually have to do some physical labour.”

“Oh, God,” Kris groaned. “You weren’t a public school boy, were you, with all these Spartan ideals?”

Again Daniel laughed. “Anything but,” he responded. “But seriously, it will be good for you. I wanted to show you last night that I’m not an evil taskmaster
—
well, not completely, anyway, but I was serious about what I told you. You need to learn some discipline. Wood needs chopping for the range. Who knows
—
you might enjoy it?”