Haven Of Obedience
| Haven Of Obedience | |
| Marina Anderson | |
| Hachette UK (2000) | |
| Tags: | Erotica, Fiction |
You've devoured Fifty Shades ...Now it's time to lose yourself in the Haven of Obedience Twenty-something Londoner Natalie Bowen is envied by many, but her personal life is a disaster. Men can't cope with her career success and Natalie thinks she'll never find real happiness. Then she hears about an exclusive weekend retreat called The Haven, a place that specialises in introducing you to pleasures you could never have imagined. Shocked at the idea, but unable to resist finding out more, Natalie decides it's time to put her fears behind her. Once at The Haven, Natalie meets the enigmatic and disciplined Simon, a man who is used to getting what he wants. And Natalie may very well have met her match ...
Published by Hachette Digital
ISBN: 9780748131211
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © Marina Anderson, 2000
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
Hachette Digital
Little, Brown Book Group
100 Victoria Embankment
London, EC4Y 0DY
Chapter One
ON A SUNDAY NIGHT
in April, twenty people were assembled in the reception area of The Haven. Rob Gill, the owner, was addressing them as they listened attentively. ‘I trust you’ve enjoyed your stay over the past three days,’ he said, a half-smile playing around his lips. ‘At the very least I’m sure that you’ve all learned something new about yourselves.’
Jan Pearson, a twenty-eight-year-old freelance casting director, felt herself start to blush. She glanced at the rest of the group, all of whom were watching Rob. They looked so conventional now: the women in their trouser suits or designer leisure clothes, most of the men smartly suited. This was in sharp contrast to the way they’d looked over the past weekend. For example, she’d last seen the man standing next to her – now safely encased in his three-piece suit, white shirt and dark blue tie – kneeling submissively at the feet of a voluptuous blonde, his hands tied behind his back as he waited, trembling with excitement and need, for her finally to allow him a cruelly delayed climax.
‘What it’s important for you to understand,’ continued Rob, ‘is that you are now part of a very select and secret society. When you arrived here you signed a form, swearing to keep our code of silence. You may
find this difficult once you start mixing with friends from your everyday life again. But if any of you should break your vow, then you will be ostracised. In other words, you won’t be allowed to visit us again.’
Jan’s mouth went dry. Even after just one weekend she was addicted to the pleasures that she’d learned to enjoy here, at this very special retreat. If anyone had told her how erotic she’d find it to be forced into obedience and submission she would have laughed at them. In all her relationships she’d been in control, and that was the way she’d liked it. However, her stay at The Haven had changed her completely.
Rob was still speaking. ‘I’m sure that many of you here today will want to stay in touch with each other, and that’s how we like it. You’re all like-minded people now. The only people here that you’re not free to continue seeing are any of your tutors. You have to remember that for us this is a job of work. It isn’t personal.’
The nipples beneath Jan’s V-necked, semi-fitted ribbed cardigan suddenly stiffened and she felt the caress of the material against the rigid tips. It was Rob’s fault – his words had reminded her of the previous evening.
She’d been lying on her bed in an exhausted, sated heap after a long session with one of the other tutors and two of the guests when Rob had entered the room. He’d been accompanied by a trainee tutor, a young lad who hadn’t had anything to do with Jan before her visit. Rob had told her that they were there to pleasure her for an hour. At first she thought there’d been a mistake, and she’d explained that she’d already been very well pleasured. It was then that his expression had changed, changed to one that she’d become used to over the weekend. His piercing blue eyes had narrowed.
‘I hope you’re not still trying to tell me what to do, Jan?’ Rob had asked. Remembering the punishments she’d endured before she’d come to understand the rules of The Haven, Jan had hastily shaken her head. ‘That’s good,’ he’d continued. ‘Because as you know, here you’re expected to be obedient to our wishes. It’s Marc and I who wish to pleasure you:
your
wishes are of no importance.’
To Jan’s surprise, Rob’s words had excited her. All the same, she had felt certain that her tired body would be unable to respond no matter what the two men did. How wrong she’d been, she thought now as memories of the intense orgasms that they’d wrenched from her rushed through her mind.
Jan recalled the way Rob had sat astride her, his hands kneading her breasts with sweet-scented oil, while Marc had kneeled at the foot of the bed, parting her legs and using his tongue with incredible skill on the soft centre of her. She’d lost count of the number of times her body had contorted, arching upwards in spasm after spasm of helpless pleasure. It had been an incredible experience, and when Rob had finally climbed off her and run a hand over her sweat-streaked flesh she’d thought that for a brief moment there had been something personal in his gaze. Now it seemed that she’d been wrong. Or, even if she was right, she would never be able to find out.
‘I hope that we’ll see you here again some time,’ said Rob as his speech drew to a close. ‘I suggest that those of you who’ve learned that there can be pleasure through pain should exchange phone numbers. For most of you, your new sexual preferences might come as something of a shock to the people you’ve previously been intimate with.’ A ripple of uneasy laughter spread through the room.
Jan’s buttocks clenched beneath her ankle-length
pencil skirt as she recalled the hot, stinging sensation caused by the latex whip, wielded so expertly by Simon, Rob’s second-in-command. She’d cried out with shock and anger the first time it had happened to her. But as she’d been spreadeagled on a large wooden table, her wrists and ankles held firmly by other guests, she’d been unable to do anything about it.
Slowly, as her ‘punishment’ had continued, she’d been surprised to realise that the discomfort quickly passed whilst the heat from the lashes seemed to race through her flesh, causing her breasts to burgeon and her belly to swell. Yes, she must certainly exchange some telephone numbers before she got into her car and set off again for London, and her busy work schedule.
‘And now it’s time for you all to go,’ said Rob, with a smile. ‘Remember everything you’ve learned here. You don’t want to waste your money, do you?’ Again there was laughter, but this time it wasn’t embarrassed laughter. Jan tried to catch Rob’s eye for a moment, wanting to prove to herself that she’d been right and that she was special to him. But without another word he turned and left the room. With a start she realised that the crotch of her panties was damp. Just thinking about the things that had happened to her had excited her again.
A man of about Jan’s own age approached her. She remembered him from the Saturday. He’d been an amazingly adept lover, although at that stage she still hadn’t mastered how to hand over control completely. Now that she had, sex with him would probably be even better so when he asked if she’d like to give him her phone number she accepted eagerly.
‘I was thinking of having a party some time soon,’ she told him.
‘That’s a good idea. I hope I’ll be on the guest list.’
Jan smiled, tucking her short, sleek brown hair behind her ears. ‘I thought eight would be an ideal number. What do you think?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, eight sounds about right. It’s been an interesting weekend, hasn’t it?’ He stared intently at her.
A shiver ran through her. ‘Very interesting,’ she said softly. As he touched the side of her face lightly with his fingers Jan remembered the way the same fingers had forced her hands above her head, and how his mouth had fastened around her left nipple, sucking cruelly at the delicate skin as he ignored her protests – because that was what the weekend was all about. Suddenly she wanted him again, there and then, and she could see from the look in his eyes that he knew it.
‘Don’t wait too long before you ring,’ he commanded her. Whereas before her stay at The Haven she would have resented his tone, now it excited her.
‘I won’t,’ she assured him. Then, reluctantly, Jan picked up her cases and began the journey back to London.
BY THE TIME NATALIE
Bowen arrived home at her small but expensive flat on the outskirts of London it was nearly nine o’clock. A tall, slim and typically cool English blonde, she realised that she was in danger of having nothing in her life apart from her magazine. Admittedly the magazine was a great achievement. She’d started it eighteen months earlier, deliberately targeting women in the twenty-five-to-thirty-five age group, single and working in high-powered jobs. She felt that most magazines were trying to teach women how they could juggle home, children and work, but she wasn’t interested in the home-and-children side. She dealt with fashion, health and relationships, both in and out of the workplace, and the magazine’s success had exceeded even her expectations.
All of which was very pleasing. But somehow, despite all the articles in her magazine aimed at helping women like her, Natalie had got lost. Her tendency to be impatient, and her ability to cut straight to the heart of the matter, were assets at work – but not when it came to staying in a relationship. She had no trouble in attracting men, but was beginning to find little satisfaction in short-term affairs, which
were pleasurable enough sexually but left her feeling empty.
‘Do as the editor says, not as the editor does,’ Natalie muttered to herself as she opened her front door. Glancing at the answerphone she was disappointed to see that no one had called while she was out. There were several people she half expected to hear from, including Philip, although she was beginning to suspect that she’d been politely ditched by him. But it was Jan she really wanted to ring her: Jan was her best friend and until a month ago they’d met up at least three times a week.
Because Jan too had a busy professional life and struggled to find a man that she considered good enough for herself, the two of them always had plenty to gossip about. Also, they shared the same sense of humour and the same love of Italian food and good wine. Natalie couldn’t understand why Jan had stopped phoning her. It wasn’t as though there’d been an argument, or even a disagreement. At their last meeting Jan had mentioned that she was going away the following weekend but had promised to call Natalie as soon as she’d got back. The call had never come.
Too tired to cook herself anything, Natalie took a bottle of wine from the fridge and poured herself a large glass. Then she chopped up some feta cheese in a bowl, threw in some black olives and some tomatoes and sat down in front of the television. After the meal her hand started to move towards the phone. Then she drew it back again. She didn’t know why, but she was reluctant to call Jan herself. There had to be a reason for her friend’s silence and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know it, not if Jan was going to end their friendship.
It was only after two more glasses of wine that she finally found the courage to dial the number. The
phone rang for a long time. She was about to hang up when Jan answered.
‘Hi!’ Her familiar voice was slightly breathless, as though she’d had to hurry to get to the phone.
‘Jan? It’s me, Nat.’
‘Nat.’
There was an awkward pause, a pause that Natalie rushed to fill. ‘Yes, you remember me, I’m the one whose shoulder you cry on when men disappoint you.’
‘God, look, I’m really sorry I haven’t rung you,’ babbled Jan. ‘The truth is I’ve been incredibly busy casting for a new historical drama. I haven’t had a moment to myself for the past few weeks. I was going to ring you tonight, but I seem to have gone down with some kind of virus.’