Kitabı oku: «The Secret Life of a Submissive», sayfa 4

I gasped and opened my mouth to protest. Bugger the no talking rule.

‘What the hell do you think you are you doing?’ I gasped, little bells tinkling furiously. I struggled to free my hands, even though I knew it was pointless.

‘That’s what the hell do you think you’re doing, Sir,’ said Max. ‘You said no ropes. And now I’m going to have to punish you for talking without permission too.’

I was stunned. Semantics: Max had got me handcuffed and helpless with semantics. There was some part of me that loved the fact that he had outwitted me and another part that was furious. Not much of me was anxious.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ Max asked, serious now. ‘If you’re not happy I can always take them off.’

I found it hard to speak.

‘Are you OK?’ he repeated, seeking an answer. ‘I’m not going on until you tell me.’

‘Yes, I’m fine, just bloody annoyed,’ I snapped, after a second or two, and added more haltingly, ‘Sir.’

Max laughed. ‘Pleased to hear it,’ he said, ‘and I’m glad to see you’re getting to grips with the Sir thing.’ As he spoke he traced the line of my jaw with a finger.

Despite the trick, I felt more excited than I had in years. I also had no doubt that had I asked Max he would have taken the cuffs off. I couldn’t have gone this far if I didn’t have an underlying trust in him and feel inherently safe. No one else can make that call for you. I trusted him.

‘Are you ready?’ he said.

Ready for what? ‘I think so, yes – Sir,’ I said.

‘Good,’ Max said, and I could hear the warmth and approval in his voice. He led me across the room and had me stand while he settled himself on a chair. He stroked me gently until I was completely still and those little bells finally stopped ringing.

‘I’m going to put you across my knee and then I’m going to spank you. But before I do, I want you to ask me to do it,’ he said.

I froze. ‘I have to ask?’ I said incredulously.

Max laughed. ‘Yes, and you’ve broken the no talking rule again – and not calling me Sir. You’re only supposed to speak when you’re spoken to, and only answer the question you’ve been asked.’

‘I’m going to find that hard.’

‘Really?’ he said, with mock surprise. ‘Now ask me.’

I’d never found it particularly easy to ask for what I wanted sexually. Had I told him that? I tried to remember. Ask? In my fantasies all this happened without a word being spoken.

‘Well?’ pressed Max.

‘I want you to spank me.’

‘Want?’ There was more than a hint of rebuke; submissives can’t demand anything. ‘Ask nicely, Sarah.’

It was the kind of thing adults said to small children and said in almost exactly the same tone. A little charge of humiliation stoked the fire of desire.

‘Please will you spank me?’

‘Better, but not quite good enough. Sir,’ added Max. ‘Ask me again, properly this time.’

‘Please will you spank me, Sir?’ I murmured, squirming with embarrassment.

‘Very good. Here, let me help you.’ Very gently he guided me down over his knees, which was not elegant and certainly not easy in handcuffs, with the little clamps biting into my skin and sending little flares, bright as stars, through my consciousness. When you are blindfolded, pain and pleasure are not just sensations but colours; bright, unexpected flashes of colour.

Then, when I was calm, the bells were still and my breathing had slowed, he pulled down my knickers. I was so stunned that I almost stood up again. I had to remind myself that I’d agreed to all this. I had, I really had.

‘Gently, gently,’ he murmured.

Gently, my arse, I thought, although under the circumstances maybe that wasn’t quite the right phrase. I was flooded with a wave of panic and a horrible squirming embarrassment. In my fantasies I was altogether more lithe and the scene of my spanking more subtly lit; certainly I was not in broad daylight in my sitting room. Had Max been expecting lithe? Did Doms get put off? In fantasies they didn’t, but in the flesh – the acres of flesh, offered my brain helpfully – maybe they did. I could feel myself blushing scarlet. Then I wondered if it was this, the sense of discomfort and humiliation, that Doms got off on? More than that, this felt like my fantasy – the sense of exposure, the vulnerability. I shivered. I was doing it; this was it.

Max, meanwhile, didn’t seem at all put off – quite the reverse, in fact. He made soothing appreciative noises and stroked my thighs and backside, easing the tension from my body, and gradually, remarkably, unexpectedly, I began to relax.

‘Gently,’ he murmured. ‘You’re fine, Sarah. Just fine.’

And just when I had been lulled into stillness, Max hit me, one big flat-handed, stinging, spanking slap that ricocheted through my body. The slap wasn’t hard, but it was enough to make me cry out in surprise and pain – my whole body flexed.

I had been so busy thinking about the fantasy and more recently thinking about the indignity of having my bum up in the air that it hadn’t really occurred to me that spanking would hurt – and it really did hurt. How come I hadn’t factored that into my fantasy?

Then Max slapped me again, slightly harder this time, which sent another hot stinging wave coursing through me. Before I could recover, there was another slap and then another.

Instinctively I squealed and kicked, bucking and writhing against his thighs, wanting him to stop, begging him to stop, yet at the same time wanting him to continue. This was what I had dreamt of, this was what I had wanted, and now it was happening I wasn’t altogether sure that I liked it. It made me squeal and wriggle and gasp for breath, and I kicked some more as my eyes filled with tears. The bells kept on tinkling, more frantically now.

‘If you want me to stop, all you have to do is say the word,’ said Max.

I knew that. I really truly knew that. I could make it stop, so why didn’t I? Because in among the pain there was something else: a glow of need and desire, a rolling, aching want.

Max slapped me again. Being spanked hurt more than I had ever imagined; it wasn’t at all like my fantasy. Yet there was something else lurking under the surface. It was liberating to make a fuss, to be so directly connected to how I felt and to react to it. I’m rationalizing this after the event. At the time it felt like a great raw emotional force steaming through me, and it set me free.

One of the things Max had said to me over lunch was that there was no going back – once you crossed over, there was no unknowing what you discovered about yourself – and I had a glimpse of what he meant. How could anyone sane like something that hurt them? It was impossible to make sense of it, yet it was an amazing, free-fall cascade of sensations with no walls between what I felt and what I was and my reaction to it; it felt as though I was completely connected to every part of myself.

The blows weren’t that hard but they were shocking. I gasped for breath, tears trickling down my face, and then between strokes Max began to massage the hot, stinging flesh of my backside, stroking the hand prints, and slowly started to go further, opening my legs wider – touching me, exploring. Letting go and letting him touch me without boundaries, without hindrance, added to my excitement.

I groaned with pure animal pleasure as he found the warm wet folds of my sex and I felt my whole body start to respond as he stroked me in altogether more intimate ways. The pain had brought me so far, and the pleasure that took over was intense and all the deeper for the spanking. I could feel my heart rate quicken, the warm glow across my backside echoing the one that was beginning to grow low down, deep in my belly.

Max slid a finger inside me, making me moan with pleasure. He slid deeper, deliberately brushing my clitoris as his fingers began to work in and out. I was stunned by how intense the sensations were, as if the pain had amplified what I was feeling. Where did the desire come from? Was this about the pain, the embarrassment, the sense of helplessness? I had never experienced anything quite so all-consuming before, and as I began to move with his caress I could feel his erection pressing against my torso through his trousers.

My whole body was focused on his touch as I moved instinctively, relishing the attentions of his knowing fingertips, the way he teased me into reaching out for each delicious sensation.

God, this was fabulous and the sweetest of tortures! I was so close to the edge now that I thought I would die, gasping, whimpering with pure undiluted pleasure as he brought me closer and closer to oblivion. I had not expected this. My hips lifted in time to his touch, longing for release …

‘Please,’ I whispered, shocked at my own need. ‘Please.’

Max chuckled.

Hadn’t we just agreed that there would be no sex, not today, perhaps not ever? This was down to me. There was a part of me that had been thinking I could have a ‘real’ relationship alongside a BDSM one – naïve but true. In an early conversation Max had pointed out that it was quite possible to have a BDSM relationship and never have full sex or in fact any sexual contact.

Never? I’d asked. Never, he’d said. Other couples did it where one was involved with a partner who didn’t engage in BDSM.

It had all sounded so perfectly feasible when I’d got my clothes on and we’d been deciding whether to have the sea bass or the lamb for lunch. I had taken everything Max had said to heart, and fondly imagined going off to see someone like Max for a weekly spanking and a bit of light bondage, alongside another more conventional relationship, a bit like going to a t’ai chi class or having my legs waxed. I realized now that for me that would be close to impossible. I was aching for him.

‘Please,’ I sobbed. ‘Please.’

‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘And that’s the fourth time you’ve broken the rules.’

‘Please, Sir,’ I gasped.

How could you feel like this, share this intimacy, this exposure with someone, and then go home to a boyfriend or a husband, girlfriend or wife? I realized I couldn’t switch off my emotions and isolate my sexual need; I needed to have both together in the same relationship.

My body was aching for Max in a great rush of animal lust – something that in all the years I’d been having sex, even lust-driven hungry sex, I don’t think I’d ever felt before. It was earthier and more physical than anything I had ever experienced. And I could sense Max’s excitement growing along with my own. I heard his breath quicken to match mine. Maybe this was where mutual desire overturned the rules?

Eagerly I leaned into his caress. I brushed myself against his engorged cock. It felt like a challenge. Maybe I could make him break the rules. How hard could it be? I was an instant away from the long, tumbling descent towards orgasm. I wanted him to take me there. I wanted to take him with me.

I arched my back. I pressed down onto his lap, brushing myself against his fingertips, seeking his caress, gasping as he stroked my clitoris, riding the great waves that threatened to drown me. I groaned, feeling the first ripples – which was exactly the moment Max stopped.

I howled in protest.

Max laughed and let me slide gently onto the floor.

‘I said not yet,’ he said, in answer to my indignation and frustration.

‘Not yet?’ I gasped, ragged, hot and desperate.

‘It’s your own fault. You can’t stick to the rules. No talking. And here, with me, I’m the Dom and things happen according to my timetable, not yours.’

‘Are you planning to punish me some more, Sir?’ I said, thinking about how much I’d enjoyed my punishment up until now.

‘Possibly. By stopping now and going home if you can’t be quiet.’ He knelt down beside me and unlocked my handcuffs, gently massaging each wrist in turn before taking off my mask. I blinked in the light and peered up at him. His eyes were alight with mischief and delight. I suspected mine were ringed with mascara.

‘How are you feeling? Are you OK?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ I said. He was right: it was getting easier.

‘Good. Would you like to touch yourself?’

My eyes widened. No, I would not.

‘Well, would you?’ he repeated.

I’d never admitted to anyone that I masturbated. Not that it had ever come up much in conversation. God, what if he asked me to do it in front of him? I said nothing but my face obviously gave me away.

‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ he said. ‘From now on I forbid you to masturbate unless I give you express permission.’

I bristled. ‘Are you serious?’

‘You are going to be such a pleasure to train,’ said Max, laughing. ‘I’m making a note of every time you break the rules, you know. And you will pay for every last one you break.’

‘Really?’ I said.

‘Yes, really. And that, in case you hadn’t noticed, is another one.’

He helped me to my feet, and as he did he kneaded the tender muscles of my backside, making me wince and momentarily forget the warm, dull, throbbing ache between my legs. Finally he removed the nipple clamps, which made me yelp with pain and then gasp as the blood flooded back into the sensitive flesh. Then he rubbed them, which I thought was a kindness until I realized that actually it made the discomfort much, much worse.

‘While we’re playing I want you to keep your eyes down and your hands behind your back, as a sign of humility and submission. And now I’d like a cup of tea. Earl Grey. Black.’

I stared at him. My legs were jelly, my whole body was tingling, I’d been a nanosecond from orgasm and the man wanted tea?

‘Be careful,’ he said. Obviously the disbelief showed on my face. ‘Remember, humility and submission. Do you have lemon?’

I managed not to swear. Frustrated and annoyed, I teetered into the kitchen and made Max a pot of tea, on a tray with a bone-china cup and saucer, retrieved from a box of nonsense that hadn’t seen the light of day for years. I was being sarcastic. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

‘Very nice,’ he said, as I slid the tray onto a little table alongside the sofa.

‘I’m fresh out of doilies,’ I said.

‘Next time,’ he said, pouring himself a cup. ‘And by the way that’s another two for the punishment list. Sir and no speaking, remember? When you’re not otherwise occupied I would like you to kneel beside me.’

‘Kneel?’

He nodded. ‘Assuming you want to continue with your training? Or have you changed your mind?’

I could hear from his tone that he was serious. I knelt.

‘Would you like to hear about how I got into BDSM?’ he asked, setting the cup and saucer back on the side table.

What I wanted was for him to finish what he had started, but I could hardly say that, so instead I said, ‘Yes, Sir.’

‘Is the right answer,’ he said.

Chapter Six

‘Nature, who for the perfect maintenance of the laws of her general equilibrium, has sometimes need of vices and sometimes of virtues, inspires now this impulse, now that one, in accordance with what she requires.’

Marquis de Sade

‘I was probably twenty, maybe twenty-one, and my company had sent me to work in one of their European offices,’ said Max. ‘I was green as grass. Anyway, I started seeing this girl, Eva. A mate of mine set me up with her; she was a bit older than me, but not much, twenty-three, twenty-four. Really tiny, attractive.’ Max smiled.

‘Eva was nothing like any of the girls I‘d gone out with before. She liked a drink, and dancing – and she loved sex. I’d come from a small town in the south-east, where nice girls just didn’t, so that was one big difference. I couldn’t believe my luck.

‘We’d meet up after work – she’d got a little flat near the railway station. We’d do the usual stuff: there were a couple of bars, nightclubs, we’d have a few beers, go dancing, drinking, go back to her place.

‘Her flat was on the top floor above a row of shops; it was one big room with a shower and toilet off the stairs, all the usual stuff, but the first thing you noticed when you went in was a huge carved four-poster bed.

‘God knows where it came from or how old it was. Eva told me it had been there when she moved in. The only way her landlord would have been able to get it downstairs would have been to saw it into pieces, so she told him to leave it. We used to camp out on it, use it as a sofa, as a picnic table, somewhere to watch TV from. Sex, fun, music …

‘Her flat was above a delicatessen. She was so foreign.’

‘And exciting?’ I said.

Max nodded. ‘Total culture shock. Anyway, we’d been seeing each other for a couple of months. My best mate, Charlie, was dating Eva’s best friend, Greta. We’d all got the weekend off and we’d been planning to do something all together, but at the last minute Greta got called in to work and Charlie said he didn’t want to play gooseberry, so there was just Eva and me.

‘When I met her at the bus stop she said that there was somewhere she wanted to take me. I didn’t really mind where we went as long as I was with her and we ended up back at her place.’

Max smiled. ‘She was built like a boy, with short, spiky, white-blonde hair, long skinny legs and the biggest greenest eyes you’ve ever seen. And she was dynamite between the sheets. She was the most uninhibited person I’d ever met – not that I had been out with that many in my short romantic career. Eva was always up for it, full on, all the time, as far as I could make out.

‘She was incredibly vocal, liked to bite and was bossy. Very bossy. I’d never come across anyone like her before. I’d be in bed with her and she would tell me what she wanted: “Hold my hands down, tighter – now fuck me faster, faster. That’s it and touch me there – just there …” If I didn’t do it right she’d take my hands and show me exactly what it was she wanted, and when she didn’t get it she was only too happy to do it herself.

‘Up until then the only sex I’d ever had was fumbling around in the dark in the back of a car or in the sports pavilion. Just getting it was enough without thinking about technique.’

Max laughed. ‘I’ve got this memory of her, naked except for leather riding boots and bright red lipstick, showing me exactly how she liked to be stroked. I couldn’t keep my hands off her. I’m amazed we didn’t get ourselves arrested, some of things we got up to.

‘She used to tell me I was too British, too uptight; she was probably right.

‘I’d been seeing someone back home called Nola. I wasn’t that serious about our relationship, but I knew she was. We’d known each other since we were at primary school. Everyone, including our families, was expecting that eventually we’d settle down and get married. She was as steady as a rock, Nola, and she wanted us to get engaged and save up for a house. She used to write to me every week, telling me all about her job in Boots and how all the family were doing.

‘Nola was the kind of girl that good boys want to settle down with. She drew the line at French kissing and a bit of heavy petting. Her mum and dad were really strict and she was the same: she thought that nice girls didn’t have sex before marriage and barely tolerated it afterwards. She thought that we should wait until we were married before going “the whole way”, whereas Eva could barely wait until we got out of the bus station.’

Max laughed again and shook his head. ‘So anyway one weekend, I’d got it into my head we were going to have a few beers and head back to Eva’s flat, but she’d got other plans. She said that she had a place she wanted to show me. Her English was really good, and she had a funny gravelly voice, and I was totally smitten: I’d have followed her anywhere – anything to keep her sweet. After all, we’d got the whole weekend and I didn’t want her getting mad with me.’

Max grinned at me. ‘And so we headed to a bar in the town centre where we had gone the first time we met. I remember saying, “Is this it? We’ve been here before …”

‘Eva shook her head. “No, of course it isn’t. Be patient,” she said.

‘So we got a table and ordered. Apparently it was too early to go wherever she wanted to take me. But it felt like something was going on. She seemed off, edgy, distracted and excited, her eyes working the room, wandering around the bar, glancing up at the clock, watching people come and go as if she was waiting for something to happen. It was nerve-racking. I kept wondering what the hell I was getting myself into.

‘The beers didn’t take the edge off the mood. I kept wondering if I was being set up. There were plenty of stories about honeytraps and guys getting mugged after following some woman down a dark alley, but I kept thinking: if I was going to get rolled, surely they wouldn’t have waited two months to do it? Maybe it was something else; maybe Eva was planning to dump me. Maybe she had met someone else.

‘I found myself watching the door, watching Eva, watching the people coming in and out of the bar. By the time we left at around eleven I was ready for just about anything. And I wasn’t expecting anything good.

‘We grabbed a cab and headed across town. The taxi dropped us at the bottom of the steps that went down into an alley, and it was packed, buzzing with people all on a Friday night out. There were bars and nightclubs with people spilling out of the open doorways; we had to squeeze our way between them.

‘I was hanging back, waiting for whatever it was to kick off, till Eva got hold of my arm and pushed her way through. We made our way down the alley to a club. Bouncers look much the same the world over, and there were two big guys in standard dark jeans and leather jackets on the door. As we walked up to them, one of them grinned and touched his cap, and Eva saluted.

‘I asked how they knew her. She said she was a regular and that it was one of her favourite places and that she worked there sometimes.

‘I asked her why we hadn’t gone there before and she just grinned and said that she had needed to know me a bit better before sharing all her secrets.

‘“What secrets?” I asked.

‘She giggled and tapped the side of her nose. “Soon,” she said, “soon. Relax, it’s nothing bad …”

‘Anyhow, we joined the queue. There was no name above the club door, no sign; everything looked normal. The only thing that struck me as odd was that lots of punters in the queue were wearing long coats – it was a warm evening, so that was strange – and a lot of the others were carrying holdalls.

Eva had a maxi coat on but she almost always wore it.

‘We got to the front desk and there were two huge middle-aged women on the front desk taking the money. They looked liked drag queens: heavy make-up, low-cut tops, smoking like trains. It was obvious that they knew Eva, and while they were saying their hellos the pair of them kept eyeing me up and down. One of them waved us through.

‘Inside there was a little bar off to one side. The whole place was heaving with people. It was like a rabbit warren and I couldn’t get my head around why we were there. People were smoking and drinking at the bar. To one side of the entrance was a flight of stairs going up and another going down, and a corridor leading off to God knows where. The corridor was lined with doors. There were people everywhere.

‘I’d been to a lot of clubs but this one felt different. I kept thinking I’d made a big mistake going here on my own, and that I should have waited until Charlie and Greta had been able to come with us.

‘But Eva was like, “Relax, it’s a good place. Good people. You will like it.”

‘That wasn’t how I felt.

‘She took hold of my arm and took me through the bar; I could hear music and I was thinking maybe there was a band. Then we got to another set of double doors. I remember looking down at her and realizing she was trembling, and I wondered what the fuck was going on. I thought maybe she was cold but then she looked up at me, and she was all shiny-eyed and excited. Just before she pushed open the doors, she stretched up on tiptoes and said, “Don’t be afraid.”

‘Talk about freaking you out. Then she pushed open the doors.’

‘What did you think was going on?’ I asked, hanging on his every word.

Max laughed. ‘Truth? I hadn’t got a clue. We’d been warned about bomb threats and terrorism – there was lots of bad stuff going on – and because this place hadn’t got a name outside I just kept thinking: I’m walking straight into trouble here.

‘Anyway, the doors opened. I had no idea what to expect, but it sure as hell wasn’t what I saw. The room was full of people in all kinds of costumes. It was like a carnival. The music was really loud, and there were strobe lights and a smoke machine. There were people in leather, feathers, bare-breasted, bare-chested; some were dancing. But it wasn’t just the audience that surprised me but what was going on on stage.

‘There was a naked blonde woman, built like a dancer, and she was strapped to a frame and being flogged by a huge black guy with a shaved head and dressed as a pirate. Both of them had been covered in oil, or maybe it was sweat, but anyway their bodies glistened under the spotlights, and her whole back was criss-crossed with red welts.

‘I didn’t know what to say or where to look – I’d never seen anything like it, not even in magazines. I wondered why nobody was helping her – crazy – so my first thought in a bondage club was that someone really ought to rescue the blonde; but my second was that she didn’t look like she’d thank me for saving her. In a cage next to the frame was another girl, naked except for a cat mask, who had her wrists chained above her head and who was writhing in time to the music. And I got the impression that she was probably next up on the frame …

‘I’d heard rumours about clubs like this. I and a gang of the lads from the office had headed for the red light district for a gander the first couple of weeks after I’d arrived, but I had never imagined finding myself in a place like this.’

Max laughed. ‘I was bloody terrified and for some reason I kept thinking about Nola back at home, saving up for her bottom drawer. I didn’t know where to look. Some of the audience were watching the show, but everyone was treating it like a regular night out, drinking, eating and dancing, as if this sort of thing was perfectly normal, which for them of course it was.

‘There were a handful of people dressed in ordinary clothes, me among them, but the vast majority of them were dressed in costumes, fetish clothes, bondage gear, masks, rubber, leather corsets and waistcoats, breeches and boots, all-in-one latex body suits, some almost naked except for straps and buckles – and that included the staff. It certainly explained the coats and the holdalls. It was like Sodom and Gomorrah.

‘I looked across and Eva was watching me, probably I think now in case I made a run for it. She asked me if I was OK. I can’t remember what I said but I remember her saying, “You can close your mouth now.” Then we found a table and she waved the waitress over and ordered us a couple of beers. I just kept gawping. At a table just inside the door there were a man and woman eating, apparently completely oblivious to the man and naked woman kneeling at their feet. On the table next to us were two girls, one dressed as an angel, the other as a devil, who were kissing. I asked Eva if it was a brothel and she laughed and said no, it was a club.

‘“People like to come here to be who they are,” she said. “They like to get dressed like this and be like this. It’s like a playground for people with particular tastes.” Then she paused and there was a moment when she looked at me and I knew what was coming. “For people like me,” she said. And then – I’ll never forget it – she stood up and started to unbutton her coat. Underneath she was wearing a little dress that buttoned down the front. It was really short, so you could see her stocking tops and suspenders. She was also wearing boots – Eva liked boots.

‘And she said, “So you like my new outfit?” with a Cheshire cat grin on her face, and came dancing back towards me.

‘I said yes, I think, and then I said, “It’s short.”

‘And she said, “It’s meant to be. I have very good legs.” And with that she peeled off her coat and started to undo her dress.

I stared at Max. ‘And you let her?’ I asked.

Max laughed. ‘I didn’t have much choice. There was no way I could have stopped her. I kept thinking: this can’t be happening. I was horrified and shocked and turned on – and God knows what else. I jumped up and went to cover her up with her coat, but she shook her head and pushed me away.

‘There was an old guy a couple of tables away who was looking her up and down as she was peeling off her dress, and there was a part of me that wanted to punch him and another part that thought: look all you like – she’s mine.

‘Under the dress Eva was wearing a leather harness that came round over her breasts, round her waist and her hips. And there was a strap that came up between her legs, with a little padlock on it, like a chastity belt, locking it to a waistband. She looked amazing.

‘With a total lack of self-consciousness she rolled up her dress and dropped it into her bag, and at the same time pulled out a collar and lead.

‘“Do you want to play?” she whispered, holding the lead out towards me.

‘All sorts of things were falling into place: the way she liked to be held down; how physical she was; the way she liked me to fight with her for sex, to pin her to the bed; the way she was constantly pushing the boundaries, trying to provoke a reaction.