His House of Submission (9 page)

I nodded, my face burning. I hoped this wasn't a comment on my conversational skills. Did he find me inane? Tedious? Stupid? I tried to banish my insecurities, but he must have seen an element of them.

‘It won't be easy for me either,' he said. ‘I like talking to you. You have a fresh take on things. But just for today … silence. Now, go and shower.'

I presented myself for breakfast in the kitchen in my usual long skirt and top-and-scarf combo. He stopped me before I sat down and asked me to show him my underwear.

I almost asked why, but checked myself in time. Instead, I silently pulled up my top and then lifted my skirt, my pulse racing. Despite the soreness below, I felt ready to take more of him, tingling with the shameful joy of submission.

‘Too much,' he said. ‘Go upstairs and take it off. You aren't going to need underwear for the next six weeks. Unless I ask you to wear it. Go on, then.' He waved the spatula at me. I could imagine that being quite a useful spanking implement.

When I came back down, he beckoned me over to the counter, where he was buttering toast. With his other hand, he felt my breasts through the thin cotton top, rubbing at my nipples until they stood out through the fabric, bullet-hard and unmistakable. When that was done to his satisfaction, he lifted my skirt and checked for the presence of knickers. Finding none, he rewarded me with a luscious, filthy, grope-filled snog.

‘Sit down,' he said, sliding eggs on to the toast before sorting out more coffee. ‘But you have to raise your skirt. I want your bare bottom touching the seat. And you can lift up your top too. And keep your legs wide apart.'

Sitting like that, with my top bunched over the top of my breasts and my thighs split while the varnished wooden seat chilled my bare bum, I couldn't escape the reality of my submission. It was profound and absolute, and it was going to touch every aspect of my daily life.

Jasper watched me, smiling slyly, as he dug into his breakfast. I could barely touch mine, my appetite killed by the overwhelming presence of sex in the air around me, touching my skin, feeding itself into me.

‘Eat up,' he said, pointing at my plate with his knife. ‘You need it, girl. I've plans for you.'

It was an order. I had to obey.

I made a decent attempt at eating my eggs, but the toast stuck in my throat. The coffee didn't help, so strong it gave me jitters. I spilled a drop and it landed on my nipple, making me gasp and almost make a sound. But I managed not to.

Jasper tutted and dabbed my nipple with some kitchen roll, for much longer than was strictly necessary. Then he kissed it better.

Dropping down between my knees, he had a good long look at my widespread pussy, prodding at it until I winced.

‘That's a well-fucked pussy,' he diagnosed. ‘Swollen and red, it is. I think we'll have to take it a bit easy today. But there are lots of things we can do that don't involve the old in-out. Aren't there?'

He raised flashing eyes to me.

I bit my lip and made a gesture intended to convey the phrase ‘You tell me.'

He smiled. ‘So much to learn.'

As it happened, I didn't learn much that day beyond the fact that I could fall asleep on my knees, polishing silver. My energetic induction into the possibilities of BDSM had exhausted me and I spent most of the day in bed – my bed in my room, while Jasper glided about below almost noiselessly. It was like being alone in the house.

The day after that, though, waking refreshed and with the bruises on my bottom fading rapidly, I knew I would not be getting off so lightly.

I presented myself in the kitchen for breakfast wearing a longish dress and nothing else. He had said the day before that he preferred shoes to be taken off in the house, to preserve the floors, and it was too hot for hosiery, so my bare feet crossed the cold stone flags to the table, toes curling up with each step.

‘Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,' he said. He was leaning against the counter, eating a bowl of cereal. ‘I can't be bothered cooking this morning. Get yourself whatever you want.'

‘Oh. Right.' I had rather enjoyed being cooked for by him, but I busied myself with the toaster and poured myself a cup of tea from the pot.

‘Sun's out,' he remarked, and it was true that the kitchen was flooded with early-morning light, birdsong filtering through the open window.

‘Summer's come,' I agreed.

‘Good day for a picnic.'

‘Is it?' I gave him a swift glance. He wore the expression of a man who was making plans.

‘I'd say so. Right.' He put the empty bowl in the sink. ‘You sort yourself out. I'm going for a run, then I need to get a few things in town. I want you to meet me, in three hours' time, by the lake in the grounds.'

And he was off.

I found it a little disorientating that he was perfectly normal one minute and benignly dictatorial the next. There had been nothing perverse in our breakfast conversation, and yet the whole exchange seemed to carry such a powerful undercurrent that it felt intensely sexual. Perhaps it was just the effect he had on me.

I got on with my tea and toast and wondered about the day ahead.

The sun grew hotter and fiercer and I was glad not to be wearing any underwear when I set out through the grounds to the lake. I had not put any shoes on either and the grass was blissfully cool and gentle on my bare feet.

Every moment of my journey bore a burden of sensuality – the warmth on my skin, the heavy scents of summer in bloom, the quality of light through the verdant surroundings. And I was walking to meet my master. My destination was sex.

My light cotton dress swished around my thighs. I already knew that I was wet between them, my clit hanging heavy, as if it knew what lay in store. If I looked downwards, I could see my nipples dinting the floral-patterned fabric. I hoped this would please him.

To reach the lake, I had to pass through a small wooded area. My skin chilled in the dappled shade, and I hugged my arms around myself. The sounds were different in here, closer and more intense, and there was a hissing.

No.

That wasn't just the rustle of leaves. It was a person.

‘Psst! Sarah!'

I swung around to see Will peering out from behind a tree.

‘Christ, Will. You scared me to death. What are you doing?'

‘What are
you
doing, more to the point. He didn't fire you then?'

‘No.' I felt heat suffuse my cheeks. Was it going to be obvious to him that Jasper and I were lovers now?

‘Oh my God, he's shagging you.'

Apparently it was.

‘Will …'

‘He is, isn't he? The dirty sod. Are you into all that, then? All his kinky games?'

‘Will, shut up. Why are you here?'

‘I've come to see you. But obviously you aren't interested, now you've got hot-shot film director into bed.'

‘It's not like that.'

‘What is it like then?'

I gazed into his bullish, hostile face and wondered what I ever saw in him, beyond a salve for my loneliness. He was good-looking enough but he was boring underneath, and unimaginative. It wasn't as if we'd been consumed with deathless passion, was it? It was just pointless, time-filling sex. Why did he feel he had this claim on me?

‘It's none of your business,' I said. ‘Jasper and I … we like each other. That's all.'

‘God, listen to her. “Jasper and I”. You sound like the Queen.'

‘Look, you have to go. I'm meeting him. He's at the lake. If he sees you here …'

‘I can't believe you'd just dump me like this. For him! After what he did to me.'

‘I'm sorry he sacked you, but …' I raised my hands in supplication. There was really nothing more to be said.

‘Yeah, sorry, are you? Right. Well, you might not be now, but you will be. Both of you.'

‘Oh, stop making vague threats and bugger off. Or I
will
go and tell Jasper you're here, and I don't think you'd want that.'

‘Oh, lovely,' he said, bearing down on me, his eyes so tight and mean. ‘What a charmer. I know how to pick 'em, don't I? Never mind, Sarah, Jasper can do what he wants with you. I hope it's painful. I'm sure it will be. Fuck you.'

I had taken several steps backwards in alarm, but he didn't try to touch me, simply stormed off through the undergrowth with a tremendous rustle and crackle.

I stood for a moment, stalled by dismay, all my joyful, lustful anticipation of the day's delights forgotten.

Should I do something about this? Tell Jasper?

But I decided against it. I didn't want anything to overshadow our picnic, and Will was just an unwelcome intruder from real life who had gone and would not be back. I stepped out of the shade, into the sun, back into my fantasy-made-flesh.

From the top of the slope I could see Jasper, sitting on a picnic blanket in a white linen shirt and light trousers, reading a book. A basket stood beside him.

I took some time to just look at him, let the sight of him fill me up, colouring in that greyness of spirit Will had left behind. I took a deep breath and began to walk down.

He looked up and put his book aside. His teeth shone brighter than the sun, glinting below his sunglasses. He must have them professionally whitened, I thought.

‘You're a little bit late,' he greeted me, patting the rug beside him.

I sat down, feeling suddenly guilty about the Will encounter.

‘Am I? Sorry. I thought I left the house in plenty of time. What are you reading?'

‘Don't change the subject.' He dropped the book into the picnic basket and wagged a finger at me. ‘We are discussing your punctuality.'

‘Oh, dear. Are we?' I tried to look appealing and penitent.

‘Yes, we are. And after discussing it, we are addressing it.'

‘So I'm in trouble?'

‘The best kind of trouble.' He smiled and the little edge of fear I'd been nursing fell away. He was such a good actor; it made all the role-play rather too realistic sometimes. ‘First, you need to take off your dress.'

‘Really?'

His only answer to that was a hard stare.

I took off the dress, baring myself to the lakeland wildlife. And … I looked swiftly back to the woodland. Had Will really gone? What if he was still there, watching us? He would see me sitting naked next to the fully clothed Jasper. The thought lent a strange urgency to my arousal. I straightened my spine and pushed back my shoulders, wanting Jasper to know that I was doing my best to look good for him.

‘Good,' he said. ‘But the sun's pretty ferocious today. You'll need some lotion.'

He took a bottle of factor 30 sunblock from the basket, poured some into his palm and began slathering it over me, starting with my breasts.

I sat, patient and still, while he massaged the pale unguent all over me, with special attention to my nipples.

‘Don't want sunburnt nipples, do we?' he said, when my breath began to shorten, my body screaming for him to just jump on and take me.

‘No,' I breathed.

‘That would be quite terrible.' He rolled them gently between finger and thumb, making the most of their slipperiness. I smelled of holidays and it made me reckless.

‘I want you,' I said.

He smiled, but made no reply, simply increasing the pressure on my poor nipples until I gasped.

He had me turn around and kneel with my elbows on the blanket while he attended to my shoulders and back and then my bottom. He was especially thorough in applying a great deal of lotion to my bum cheeks, even getting it nice and evenly spread between the furrow, as if the sun's rays might penetrate into that darkest of places. I twitched when his massaging fingers came closer and closer to my anus, then pressed down on it, smothering it in cream, but I didn't protest. My body was his.

His lotioned hands slid in between my thighs, coating them completely.

‘I wonder if anyone's ever had a sunburnt clit,' he said idly, sweeping his thumb swiftly but with devastating effect over mine.

Oh, I wanted him to touch it again, but he wouldn't.

‘It seems a bit silly,' he said, grabbing me suddenly by the hips and positioning me over his lap, ‘to put all that cream on your bottom to avoid sunburn when I'm going to get it bright red anyway.'

‘Oh,' I mewled, on high alert. Even though I'd been expecting this, it still came as a shock somehow.

‘I'm afraid the lotion might make it sting all the more,' he said. ‘But perhaps you'll think of that next time you're running late.'

His hand smacked down and he was right – it did hurt quite a lot.

I let out an uninhibited yell. On the lake, some water birds wheezed and quacked and feathers flapped.

‘You're getting off lightly,' he informed me, continuing the spanking at a brisk pace. My punishment was being observed by a gaggle of interested ducks and I imagined Will's eyes in the bushes, watching Jasper's hand fall over and over, hard and strong, on my rapidly heating arse.

‘Ouch,' was about the only reply possible.

‘I once took a girl down here,' he reminisced. ‘An experienced submissive, she was. I wouldn't do this kind of thing with you yet. I took her down to the water's edge.'

The spreading sting of my hot, slippery bottom, together with the continuing hail of smacks, made it hard to focus on anything else, but I tried my best to follow Jasper's anecdote anyway.

‘I gave her a pair of gloves to put on, then I made her pick a handful of nettles.'

‘Oh, God. I hate them.' Childhood memories of being stung on the legs while I tried to negotiate an overgrown footpath crowded into my mind, adding somehow to the pain I was already experiencing.

‘Yes, so did she.' He took some time to enjoy his memory, though the spanking carried on, its sound effects echoing over the lake until I thought it must be making ripples. ‘I made her lie on the rug and I put the gloves on and I pressed them on to her arse cheeks. My God, did she wriggle and thrash. The sting lasted hours, she said. But it made her ragingly horny. She got quite into it, after that. Used to like it when I made her stuff them down her knickers and wear them to the shops. We'd always end up having to take a break for a quickie in the car.'