by Shae Banks
“It’s difficult to leave when you’re barely dressed.”
I slurped at my coke, ignoring him.
That seemed to do the trick. “Okay. I’ll be here early tomorrow morning. The alarms downstairs will be set, so turn them off if you go down to the kitchen.”
“I’m not going down there. Have fun.”
He’d been gone an hour before I got bored. He’d left me his laptop since I needed it for work now, and I pulled it out intending to start writing up a blurb for the hotel.
Instead I found myself typing in his family company, Lowell Shipping.
I’d never bothered before. I’d never really cared. He was my boss. I went to work, and as long as I got paid, and he wasn’t too much of a tool, I wasn’t interested.
The first search result was a wiki page that listed the family name and history. It made for an interesting read. While the company originated in our town, built up by three brothers who each owned a ship, they had expanded to Liverpool and Portsmouth between eighteen hundred and eighteen seventy. The family hadn’t had it easy, the Haven branch of Lowell Shipping Limited closing its doors around nineteen twenty. The Liverpool and Portsmouth Branches fared far better, surviving both world wars. The two branches were inherited eventually by Richard Lowell in nineteen sixty-eight, when both his father and uncle died in a car accident travelling from Liverpool to Portsmouth. He took a more modern approach, and while maintaining the traditional sea shipping side of the business, he expanded into air fright. The company had been worth tens of millions by that point, but within a few short years the value had multiplied tenfold. With the death of Richard Lowell in two thousand and seven the company was inherited by his wife, Catherine.
Then his children were listed, but only one of them had a clickable link—Richard Lowell Jr.
Not interested in him, I clicked the search bar and went to the website I should have been on, but my mind kept wandering back to what that damned company was worth. Callum had a stake in a hundred-million-pound company. I was curious why he was up in the north west running a hotel when he could have been involved in the family company. How did someone with a strong background in shipping end up a chef?
I realised while I’d trusted him with so much, I barely knew him at all.
This needed to change.
Unable to concentrate, I decided to go and soak in the tub.
When I first visited, I’d assumed one of the doors inside the flat led to a full bathroom. I discovered the tub was in the bedroom in front of a dormer window that overlooked the rooftops of the town. There wasn’t much of a view in the dark, and it wasn’t as impressive as the harbor, but even without that it was the perfect place to unwind.
The bedroom was decorated in a simple dark cream and duck egg blue. On the western wall, an original fireplace was set like in the rooms downstairs, and the furniture was modern oak.
Callum had moved his things out, all except a few changes of clothes I insisted he leave in case he stayed over. I had tried to insist he keep the flat for himself, but he argued that I’d already signed the contract.
I couldn’t deny I was relieved to be entirely free of Johnathan, but it had all happened so quickly I hadn’t had time to sit and think. Callum had proven to be impulsive. That wasn’t a bad thing, he saw the potential I did and ran with it, but Lee hadn’t helped when he pushed me to sign.
I wished I had the confidence to be more forceful. I felt as though I was freeloading off my new, rich boyfriend. And that was how it would look. What people would think.
The longer I lay in the water, the deeper I fell into those thoughts until they took over.
My mobile rang, making me jump, and I reached over to the small table under the window to answer.
“Hello?”
“Just me,” Callum said. “I was thinking about you.”
I rolled my eyes. As much as I liked that he was thinking of me, he needed to do things without me. “You’re supposed to be having a drink.”
“I had one,” he said, his tone indignant.
I laughed. “So have another.”
“No. What are you doing?”
“Taking a bath,” I said, lying back and raising one leg out of the water.
He chuckled.
“What?”
“I didn’t think it would take you long to try it out. “
“It’s a very nice bath.”
“What are you doing in the bath?”
“You want the gory details?”
“Oh, yes.”
I laughed. “Nothing, really. I’m just going to shave my legs and get out.”
“Will you do something for me?”
“Yeah, let me get—”
“Stay where you are.”
His voice had altered. It was subtle, but the change was there. I recognized it immediately and threw out a test on the fly.
“Yes, Sir.”
There was a pause. I wondered if I’d fucked up, but then he said, “Put the phone on speaker and set it safely to the side.”
My stomach squirmed with anticipation, my earlier anxiety melting away as I did as he said.
“Bekah?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Make yourself comfortable and ensure you have clear access to your pussy.”
The water sloshed as I slid down the tub and parted my legs. “Yes, Sir.”
“You are a very good girl, Bekah. Now, using the middle finger of your right hand, I want you to rub your clitoris in a clockwise direction. Slowly.”
He was silent, but knowing he was listening was almost as hot as him giving me the instruction. I was so turned on, and it felt so good I couldn’t stop.
I picked up my pace, my clit swelling at my touch as I closed my eyes and imagined his hand. His face. His body. His cock in my mouth. Reaching down I dipped a finger inside and groaned, then resumed rubbing my clit.
“Stop,” he said.
I opened my eyes. No. I didn’t need to stop, I needed to come.
“Now begin again,” he said, his voice somehow distant and close at once. “Slowly, counterclockwise.”
“I said slowly,” he said as my breathing hitched.
Then the bedroom door opened, and he said, “stop and place your hands on your thighs.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I’d been so focused on what I was doing I hadn’t heard him come into the flat.
I sat up and turned to look at him as the call disconnected, my phone beeping behind me, my legs sliding back into the water. “You’re supposed to be—”
“Hands on your thighs, Bekah.”
I turned back and placed my hands where he wanted them.
He walked around the bath, picking up the razor beside my phone. “I’ve noticed the self-doubt creeping in with you,” he said, picking up my shaving gel and perching on the edge of the tub. “Your foot.” I raised my right leg from the water, and he took my foot in his hand. “Why is that?”
I swallowed as he applied a little gel to my leg and then worked it into a lather. “I don’t know.”
“Would you be here if I thought you less than capable?”
I watched him dip the razor in the water then run it up my leg. He was so gentle I barely felt it, then he rinsed the blade and retraced the movement from the knee down.
“Trust me.”
“It’s not that...”
He gave me a stern look, and I shut my mouth. He wasn’t asking.
He followed a well-practiced method that was strangely soothing. One stroke up, one down, back up and move over. The razor, brand new and sharp as hell, glided over my skin without causing a single nick. Something I hadn’t managed once in ten years. I watched him, but his eyes didn’t leave my leg until he was done.
He gently lowered my leg into the water and rather than tell me to move, he got up and moved around the tub, taking the gel with him.
He repeated the ritual without speaking a word, and when he was finished he took a towel from the stack
on the small table beneath the window.
“Stand up.”
I quickly ran my hands over my legs to make sure they were free of foam and did as he said. I hadn’t had the chance to shave my bikini line or anything and would have appreciated five minutes, but I was quickly learning what Sir wanted, Sir got.
That was the point, wasn’t it?
He held out a hand, and I took it, stepping from the tub onto the shaggy bath mat, and allowed him to wrap me in the towel.
“Do you remember your words?” he asked, turning from me and walking over to the wardrobe.
“Yes, Sir.”
I watched him reach up onto the top and bring down a satin bag. Whatever was inside looked heavy.
Rather than return to me, he walked over to the bed and set out the items from the bag. “When you are thoroughly dry, stand between the tub and the bed, facing the window with your legs shoulder width apart.”
I dried myself, folding the towel and draping it over the edge of the bath, then took the position.
He walked around me, looking at me. My hair was down, damp at the ends and hung over my shoulders and down my back. Our height difference was more pronounced with me being barefoot and him being fully dressed. I’d never paid much attention to what he wore, but the sound of his shirt rustling as he moved and his jeans rubbing made the hair on my neck stand on end.
Stopping in front of me he gathered my hair and draped it over my left shoulder, exposing my neck and breasts.
“Perfect.”
I smiled.
“I’d like to flog you tonight, Bekah.”
I swallowed. It sounded painful. He wouldn’t do anything that would really hurt me, would he? I looked up and met his gaze.
“Why?
“I enjoy stimulating your body. I like to see your physical response, being the one to bring that out in you, and you enjoy the pleasure it arouses in you. You have complete control. You have your words. When you’re ready, take a couple of breaths, drop your shoulders, and relax.”
Despite my trepidation I did as he asked. The promise of what he could deliver more of an encouragement than the thought of being flogged a deterrent.
With each second that passed my heart beat faster. I had no idea how it would feel. How much it would hurt.
It had hurt when he spanked me last time, but it hadn’t been unbearable. In fact, it had been pleasurable. I’d enjoyed it. The same when he pulled my hair. It was controlled. Not the sudden and violent action I’ve experienced from Johnathan. While he was forceful, he didn’t hurt me.
I hoped that flogging would be the same.
The first blow landed on my right shoulder blade. I sucked in a breath and instantly tensed, bunching my shoulders. It hurt, but the pain wasn’t unbearable. It was like being slapped hard on the shoulder followed immediately by a sharp sting that quickly faded. It wasn’t the kind of pain that would make your eyes water. But instinct told me to shy away from another.
“Relax your shoulders.”
I dropped them, forcing myself to relax.
“Relax,” he said again. “If you flinch there is a risk of you being hurt and believe me I do not want that.”
I closed my eyes and took a breath.
“Bekah,” he said next to my ear. “Relax.”
His fingers ran along my shoulder and down my arm, and he kissed my neck. “Take a deep breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Control your breaths. Concentrate on them. Focus everything on them. Trust me.”
My next breath was long and slow.
Callum stepped back, and the urge to look back at him was too much to resist.
He was removing his shirt, the flogger in one hand. The long flails looked cruel, and I could well-imagine a badly aimed blow with it would break the skin or worse.
I exhaled, facing the window and closed my eyes. It wouldn’t hurt. Not really.
A breath in.
The blow landed, and I squeezed my eyes tight as a small cry slipped from my lips. But the burn on my shoulder wasn’t what I expected. There was heat. There was pain. But something came with it I wasn’t expecting.
“Breathe.”
Ignoring the heat that was spreading across my shoulders, I took three deep breaths.
On the third breath out the flails connected with my left shoulder.
The pain bit, merging with the throbbing heat in my right shoulder. It was too much. I really had tried to do as he’d said, what he’d asked, but I couldn’t handle any more.
I pushed my shoulders back and stepped toward the bathtub, gripping the edge to hold myself steady. “I can’t. I can’t. It hurts, and I can’t.”
“You’re almost there. It isn’t too much, Bekah. You handled my hand, this doesn’t sting like the hand.”
He ran his fingertips over my shoulder, and I flinched away.
“Bekah...”
I closed my eyes. “I don’t think I can, Callum.”
“If you need to stop say the word,” he said softly.
But I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted the pain to stop. That was a step too far, but I didn’t want to reject him.
“Say one of your words.”
I’d forgotten. I’d been so focused on the pain, on taking it away, I’d forgotten to use my words. The control he’d given me. “Vanilla.”
He took my hand and turned me to face him. The flogger landed at my feet. “You must not forget your words. They are to keep you safe. They are to hold me in check.”
I looked up at him, about to apologise, but he cut me off with a kiss. I pressed into him and felt his erection straining against his jeans.
Breaking the kiss, he moved me back a step and said, “Now bend over and hold your ankles.”
I hesitated. I hadn’t shaved properly. The light was on. While I had a certain amount of body confidence, I’d never done anything like that before.
But he wanted it. I wanted what he had to give me when I’d pleased him.
I took the position, muscles in the backs of my legs straining straight away.
“Can you maintain that position?”
“I think so, Sir.”
“You may correct your balance, but you may not stand up until I say,” he said, running his hand over my ass. I expected him to stop, but he kept his hand moving until he reached my pussy and ran his finger along my slit.
Despite the pain, I was wet. I was aching for him, desperate to be fucked. But he wasn’t done. He wanted more.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Now, I will spank you. If you have no objections there will be four more. Count them.”
I began to breathe deeply again, waiting for the slap to land. When it did, it was nothing like on my shoulders.
“One.”
Two fingers traced my slit before sliding into my pussy, and I clenched around them. That wasn’t quite what I needed, but there was relief. Something, anything, to break through the burning on my skin, to take some of the pressure that was building inside of me. He pumped them in and out, and I moved my right foot to keep my balance.
Then he withdrew. I almost sobbed with frustration, not wanting him to stop, but his hand landed again, cutting through my thoughts.
“Two.”
His fingers brushed my smarting buttock, then slid back inside. This time he found my G-spot, putting pressure on it for just a second, long enough for me to squirm. Harder and faster he pumped, then hooked two fingers and pressed.
“Come if you want to, Bekah. Let it go.”
My internal muscles clenched as the orgasm tore through my body. I moaned, trying to keep my balance, curling my fingers into my calves.
His fingers withdrew abruptly, and his palm connected with a sharp smack where the first one fell. I screamed, the mix of sensations too much to bear.
“Count them,” Callum said, his voice calm and steady.
It pulled me back, grounding me, and I took a deep breath through my nose.
“Three,” I breathed, closi
ng my eyes and waiting for his fingers to continue building my release.
But they didn’t come.
Instead, there was another slap, striking the opposite cheek of my ass, and I almost fell to my knees. I started muttering, begging, and pleading, but the words didn’t seem to make sense.
“Four. Four. Four. Please… I can’t, I need you. Please.”
He stroked his hand over my stinging skin and brushed his cock over my slit. “I am wearing a condom,” he said as he took my hips, thrusting deep.
I didn’t care. I was beyond that. I needed him, and I needed him now.
I gripped my ankles, groaning with the feel of him filling me up. The skin on the cheeks of my ass was tender, and the rough fabric of his jeans chafed with every thrust. I burned where his hand had landed, tenderising my skin just enough to heighten the feeling. That was his aim. To make me hyperaware. To be in a state where I would draw the maximum amount of pleasure from the simplest of movements.
Every inch of me ached for him, my pussy clenching around him, his cock massaging my G-spot and tugging me toward orgasm. I needed more, but we were beyond the point of him controlling, now he was giving. Harder and harder he pounded me until I couldn’t hold it in any more. I shouted my release, my muscles pulsing around him, milking him, begging him to join me.
“Fuck.”
His hands tightened on my hips, fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh of my hips, holding me close as he pulled and twitched inside of me.
Both of us spent, I dropped to my knees, head bowed and gasping for breath.
Kneeling behind me he pulled me up, my back pressing into his bare chest, and wiped my hair back from my face. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, resting my head back against his shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. That was…”
Palm on my cheek he turned my head and said, “There isn’t a damn thing in this world you cannot do, Bekah. All you have to do is believe in yourself. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
Tears welled in my eyes. “I’m stronger with you.”
He turned me, searching my eyes. I don’t know what he was looking for, but he seemed to find it. His kiss was tender, tongue tracing my trembling bottom lip. With my arms around his neck I kissed him, tears spilling down my cheeks.
