Sebastian - Dark Bonds (13 page)

The hot sweet tea helps to wash down my pain medication and I welcome the relief they give almost immediately.  Feeling drowsy again I return to bed, leaving Sebastian and Bella to their cosy chat.  Thirty minutes later I’m aware of Sebastian slipping into bed beside me and I snuggle back against his chest, drifting off to sleep once more.  The nightmares come again, the same as before – always I’m in the chamber of pain and always Scarlett is fornicating with Sebastian while I watch. 

18

Two weeks have passed since my accident and I’m fully recovered.  My scar is healing nicely and the headaches have stopped.  Sebastian has treated me as though I’m a porcelain doll but, to be frank, I’m starting to seriously crave the rough, sultry Sebastian.  Two long weeks without sex is making me restless and short tempered and I wonder how he can survive celibacy when his sexual appetite is usually insatiable.  I decide to reward his patience tonight.

Scarlett and Bella are taking a bus to town, taking in a movie and dinner together as she’s missing her friends back home in Dorset.  Sebastian and I have the house to ourselves, and I have an evening of delicious erotica planned.

It’s four o’clock and I decide to call Ruth for an update on our business, Evershaw & Dove.  It’s so kind of my business partner and friend to afford me time away to heal after the death of my son Joe and husband Alan in a car crash last winter.  I’m feeling rested and happy – it was the right decision to come here.  Sebastian was right, I just needed to trust in his judgment and let him take care of me.

“Ruth!  How’s it going stranger?”

She squeals when she hears my voice.  “Beth! OMG.  It’s going brilliantly, we’ve two new contracts and our bottom line is way up on this time last year.  How’s life in the sticks?  Are you all healed up now – how’s your head?”

“Yep, I’m all healed and happier than I can remember.  Sebastian’s been a dream, he’s been taking care of me – killing me with kindness!” We laugh.  “Ruth, you are coming to my fortieth birthday party aren’t you?”

“Try and stop me!  I can’t wait.  You said it would be a masked ball so I’ve been trawling on the internet, trying to find a suitable creation to wow all the men.   I’ve bought the most divine mask, Beth.  Covered with bling, it’s so me.”

“Wow, it sounds stunning.  Don’t look too sexy or Sebastian will be after you,” I warn facetiously.

“No worries on that score, he adores you,” she says.

“He’s been taking a keen interest in his investment.  Calls once a week for an update on the figures and I always get an update on my buddy in return,” this is news to me.   Although Sebastian invested in our company at a time when we needed the funds, he rarely mentions it to me.

We end the call promising to keep in touch and with us both excited about the ball, now just three weeks away.

While Sebastian runs Bella and Scarlett to the bus stop, I dash upstairs to change my outfit.  Slipping out of my jeans and tee, I spritz myself in Desire and retrieve new lingerie from my drawer.  Scanty Panties, you are so sexy, I giggle as I carefully slip on the whisper of black lace.  Instead of a bra, I select a black boned basque, which has been concealed beneath a pile of sweaters in my wardrobe.  It’s tight and eventually I have to tug it around bringing the hook and eye fasteners to my front, so that I can hook it closed before twisting it back the right way.  Black sheer stockings are fastened by suspenders, which stretch down from the edges of the basque.  Gazing in the full-length mirror I’m in awe of the slut who gazes back. 
You are irresistible you whore
.  My feet slip in to unfeasibly high black stilettos and I’m ready to cook.  I can’t actually recall any TV chefs in such apparel, not even the scrumptious Nigella – she’s missing a trick.

Tottering across the unforgiving flagstones in the kitchen I light the pillar candle on the table and check on the progress of the duck, which is crispy and the aroma delicious.  You are a domestic goddess, I grin smugly as I hear the heavy front door slam shut signalling the return of my prey. 

I quickly perch on the edge of the table, legs akimbo on the church pew, resting back on my arms so that my breasts spill forth above the confines of the boned corset.  I pout my glossy red lips and listen as the footsteps of his boots near the door.  I can feel the moistness in my panties as my core tenses in anticipation of his reaction.  The brass handle turns and the door pushes open.  He stands in the doorway, shock registering on his face – rapidly replaced with a carnal, animalistic desire as he absorbs the scene before him.

“Fuck.” 

I think that’s a good reaction.

“You like, Sir?”  My slickly glossed lips form an O and my tongue licks at my top lip provocatively.

“Oh, I like very much.  Fuck, what have you done to yourself?”  He prowls around the kitchen, drinking me in from every angle, his eyes narrowing darkly.  His breathing is laboured and the bulge at his crotch signals his arousal.

“Dinner will be served in two minutes.  Please take a seat.”

Sliding off the table as elegantly as my attire will afford, I indicate to a pew.  He doesn’t take his eyes off mine as he ignores my request, instead he swaggers toward me hips thrust slightly forward, making the bulge appear even more pronounced.  God I want him, right here and now but I’m going to make him wait.  All part of my cunning plan.  Turning my back on him deliberately, I sashay to the range, scoop on the oven glove and bend forward, legs apart and straight, and peer in at the duck.

“You shouldn’t have done that Elizabeth,” he growls sexily as he moves behind me.

I thrust my backside further as I reach in to the range to lift out the sizzling tray.  He waits until I put the tray down on the hot plate before reaching between my thighs - his fingers pressing against the damp lace and I gasp at his touch.

“If you play with fire,” he whispers in my ear, “you are likely to get burnt.”  His lips brush my ear sending a shiver down my spine.  He reaches round me and, taking the oven glove, removes the food from the hot plate placing it on the marble worktop.  I’m about to protest that the food will get cold and spoil, when he takes my hand and spins me around to face him.  He looks so hot - all menacing testosterone, and I’m yearning for him with every fiber of my body.

“Come with me.”  He leads me from the kitchen and I think we are going upstairs to bed, instead he marches me through his study.  Oh crap – the cellar, which means only one thing – the chamber of pain!  He’s pulling me so firmly by the hand that it’s difficult to navigate the winding stone steps and so I keep my free hand on the cold stone wall as we descend.

“Sebastian, slow down,” I pant, heels clicking on the worn steps but he maintains his pace and we’re soon approaching the first door to the inner chamber.  He lifts the latch and pushes the rickety door open, pulling my hand sharply he pulls me in to the wine cellar.  He kicks the door shut so that it nearly catches my hip and I quicken my pace. At the small oak door to the far end of the wine cellar, he turns the ancient key and, oh Lord, we are inside the Chamber of Pain.  He takes a box of matches from the small mosaic table and lights the incense sticks and candle, casting a warm glow on the grey cobbled walls.

“What do you have in mind for me here, Sir?”  My breath catches with anticipation.  He’s circling me predatorily, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Kneel on the bed.” He points to the centre of the circular bed, I stay where I am, challenging and defiant.  A smile plays across his lips as his eyes darken.

“Kneel.  Now.”  He points again.  Again I defy him, he shakes his head slowly, sucking in his breath.  Fuck, he looks really mean and I’m so turned on by the unspoken threat.  Before I have time to see him coming toward me, he has my arm gripped behind my back and, forcing me to turn away from him, he pushes me down over the bed by pulling up on my wrist painfully.  He delivers a hard stinging slap to my right buttock.

“Ouch, you pig,” I squeal.

“Pig?” A second slap whacks across my left buttock but I can’t move without causing pain to my arm.  God damn him!

“Apologise,” he says coolly, politely.

“Sor-ry,” I hiss at him.  This evidently isn’t said with sufficient remorse as a third slap whips across my right thigh.

“Ouch! That bloody well stings Sebastian.”  I want more!  It’s the most erotic experience because I know he wouldn’t truly hurt me – he loves me, he’ll take me so far and then know the limit to my punishment.  I feel sure.

“Are you sorry, Elizabeth?” He asks.  “Because the palm of my hand is eager to deliver another smack to your insolent backside.”  He pulls me up and releases my arm, which I rub briskly to restore the circulation.

“Yes, Sir, I’m genuinely sorry,” I smile angelically and he laughs but his eyes don’t smile.

“Good.  You’re learning that your defiance will be punished.  Shoes off.  On the bed.”  His breath comes quick as he unbuttons his shirt, revealing his muscular chest covered with thick course black hair and I long to run my hands and tongue across it.  He sees me eying him hungrily but clicks his fingers and points to my shoes.  I slip them off and move obediently to the bed, resting back onto my heels.

“Excellent,” he purrs as he shrugs off his shirt, letting it fall to the stone floor.  He moves to a wooden chest, which had been hidden by a large floor cushion and lifts the lid.  Reaching in he pulls out a length of rope and turns to face me with it, pulling it taught between his fists.  My eyes widen at the sight of Sebastian’s naked torso, jeans slung low on his hips revealing a hint of pubic hair, and the way he is gripping the rope … I’m trembling with desire and carnal lust.

“I need you – so badly,” a moan passes my lips as he places a foot up on to the bed and tugs my hair, forcing me to stand.

“I know you do, my little slut, but you have to be patient,” he admonishes, kissing me hard on my glossy lips.  He pulls back and places his thumb on my mouth, wiping hard he smears the lip-gloss from my pouting lips before kissing me brutally again and I respond by forcing my tongue in to meet his.  He breaks away and his jaw sets as he grabs my left wrist and then my right, slipping the rope around them both and knotting it tightly.  He pulls the rope upward, lifting my arms above my head, looping then knotting it over the metal hook above the bed so that my arms are suspended from the low overhead wooden beam.  My breasts rise up and break free from the restraint of the basque, nipples erect and throbbing for his touch.

“So beautiful,” he trails a finger down my throat, down between my breasts and onwards to the top of my panties.  Slipping his finger beneath the lace, he finds my quivering clitoris – rubbing it so exquisitely that I cry his name, as my climax is merely a single stroke away.  He stops abruptly, leaving me wanting.

“Fuck, you’re dripping for me.”

“Stop teasing me,” I whine. 

Ignoring my plea, he turns his attention to my suspenders and with a flick of his fingers he frees my stockings.  Returning to my panties once again, he grasps the delicate lace between his thumb and forefinger, slides them down to my ankles and I obligingly step from them.  Parting my legs, I wait fervently to receive the oral pleasure I feel sure will follow but he shifts from the bed and returns to the wooden chest.

“What are you doing?” I can barely contain my frustration but he seems oblivious to my needs.

“Elizabeth,” he turns, and sees that I’m scrutinising him.  “Please remember the rules – you do not look me in the eye.  I’ll let it go on this occasion but next time, avert your eyes or you will be blindfolded in here.  Understood?”

“Yes Sir,” lowering my eyes, I see that he’s holding a length of red fabric.

“What’s that for, Sir?”

Sebastian again climbs on to the bed, standing before me and the fabric is coming toward my face.

“This is a gag which I’m going to tie across your talkative little mouth and secure behind your head.  Before I do, we need to agree a signal that you will give me if you want me to stop.” 

“Stop?” I ask nervously.  “What will you do to me?” 

“Whatever I want to do.  That’s the point Elizabeth.  We will have a safe word, which you’ll use when not gagged but it’s only to be used if I exceed your pain or pleasure threshold.  When I say that, I mean really exceeds it, I’m going to push some boundaries with you and I don’t expect you to cry wolf.”

“Oh,” my imagination is running wild.

“Simply say STOP.  If you’re gagged, as you will be shortly, turn your head left to right twice indicating NO and I’ll stop.”

“But …” he gags me before I can continue, the red silk trapped between my lips and knotted behind my left ear.

“Ah, that’s so much better,” he grins.  “Now I’m going to feed that hungry pussy.”  Retrieving something from the chest, which he conceals behind his back, he resumes his position on the bed.   I look down to see what he has, but he looks up and I look away compliantly. 
              Something cold and hard is pressing against my labia.  My eyes widen at the shock of it.

“Open your legs wider,” I do as he bids, the object presses harder, deeper until it penetrates me and entirely fills my hot aching vagina and begi
ns to vibrate deep in my core.

“Aagh …” I can’t speak or beg to climax, silenced as I am by the constraints of the silk. 

“That’s good, isn’t it?  That’s right, take it all, good girl.”  His other hand grabs a handful of buttock, his fingers probing between the cleft – just one finger probes deeper, finding my most private place and I squeeze to block his intrusion but he forces the vibrator forward against my G-spot and, involuntarily my back arches.