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by Rachel De Lune

  “I don’t believe you. I called, you weren’t there, and if you think this all started with me, we’ve got even more problems, Phil.” I will myself on. I will not back down on this now. Stay strong. Don’t break. Don’t break.

  “So we’re fighting again. Shit, Iz… I don’t know what to do, how to fix whatever has happened. Will you try to help out or what?”

  “Help out, after how you’ve treated me? Give me one reason why. You won’t even tell me the truth.” I look up at him and shake, trying to hold myself together, but I’m well past that and if I have to bottle it up any longer, I fear I may explode. Phil is pressing all my buttons tonight, and not in a good way.

  “So you’re still angry I wouldn’t hit you. Great.”

  “Ask yourself if you really think everything was okay with us before I asked you to tie me up and spank me. If you can look me in the eye and tell me yes, then we can talk about what happened in the bedroom, okay?”

  I hold my nerve, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and watch. Frustration and anger cross his face and I can tell this wasn’t the reaction he was hoping he’d get. I will not be ignored any longer.

  “You know what, forget it. I can’t talk to you when you’re not going to listen.”

  “No, you’re not going to walk over me this time. We aren’t working, Phil!” He turns around and storms out of the living room. I wait for the door to slam. But it doesn’t.

  “You can’t just run away and hope I won’t fight anymore, Phil.”

  The silent response suggests he hopes just that.

  I can’t sleep. It’s been a pretty rough couple of days. It’s been an intense few weeks—the most intense of my life. Seb has been the driving force behind it. He’s brought into perspective exactly what’s missing from my marriage, both on a physical level and an emotional one. He’s shown me that men can be supportive and comforting as well as strong, domineering, and sexy as hell. I’ve grown as a result of his influence, even if it’s just enough to stand up for myself. And I care for him. I feel we share an emotional bond.

  My mind is clouded with doubt and worry. Guilt. I can’t escape it. My phone buzzes and I look for it in the gloom of the bedroom.

  Sorry it’s late but I wanted to check that you’re okay. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow night. S

  I’ve had better days. I’ll see you tomorrow. Izzy

  Do you want to talk about it? S

  There he goes again!

  Maybe not over text. Phil and I had a fight, but he’s left now. I need to sleep. I’m sure tomorrow is going to be a busy day. Izzy

  Are you sure you’re OK? S

  Yes, thank you. Izzy

  I’ll leave you to your bed. You’ll need to be well rested. Goodnight. Sweet dreams. S

  My skin prickles at reading his words and the restlessness that I’ve been feeling suddenly switches into the more familiar feeling of frustration. God, I must be a horrible person. Cheating on my husband, fighting with him, and then being turned on after a simple text exchange from the man I’m sleeping with.

  Goodnight. Izzy

  I take Seb’s advice and will my eyes to close. I’m tired and I should be asleep already, but my subconscious decides to weigh in on my warring thoughts. I toss and turn all night.

  I wake tired, as if I didn’t even bother to go to bed, but that restless frustration hasn’t dissipated. I pull my body out of bed, noting that Phil still isn’t present, and head for the shower.

  The warmth reignites my body and helps bring me to life as I go about my usual routine. But as the soap washes away, my right hand follows the flow of bubbles and comes to rest at the apex of my legs. Seb has told me not to touch myself or make myself come, but I feel that a release is what my body has been craving.

  Seb put these delicious images of what he can do to me into my mind, and I want to act on them. Before Seb, it had been months since I played with myself. Now, with my homework and the memories of being with Seb, I can’t quiet the simmer of arousal through my body. Giving myself the attention and pleasure of these orgasms is something I need. With all of the emotional turmoil, I need to find a moment of relief. I’m torn between what my body wants and obeying Seb. Obeying—where did that come from? I want to please him, to be obedient, give back in a small way for all he’s giving to me.

  Even as I think those thoughts, my fingers seek out and explore my lips. My fingers take on a life of their own and search for my clit. I touch the tight, fleshy bud and circle it, teasing it. I close my eyes to think of Seb and picture his fingers touching me, his hand restraining me, pushing me down against the kitchen bar again. His voice is in my head, his breath in my ear, and I shudder as my body tenses at the imminent release I’m seeking. Tighter and harder I rub until I crash against that sweet spot.

  I’m warm from the blood racing in my veins and the water washing away the juices from my fingers. As I calm my body, my thoughts turn to Seb and how disappointed he will be in me. Once more, I’ve failed.

  Seb asked me to text him as the train was leaving Macclesfield.

  Train on time, due in at 6:39. I really can’t wait to see you again. Let me know where to find you. Izzy x

  My body and mind urge the train to speed along the tracks and I want to know where to meet him. Why on earth is he being so secretive about his hotel? The envelope he gave me has only limited details, and my own curiosity is getting the better of me. At 6:30, he finally texts back.

  Looking forward to seeing you again, too. Turn left when you exit the platform, go down the escalators and take a taxi to the Hilton Hotel. I’ll be waiting in the lobby bar for you. Drop your case with the concierge and join me at the bar. I’ll have a G&T waiting for you. S

  Never one to disappoint with the exact details of what I have to do, Seb is controlling me even now. Even down to what I’ll be drinking. I love it! Now that my curiosity has been satisfied, I relax. In preparation for this evening, I selected thigh highs instead of tights. A just above the knee pencil skirt and my favourite confidence-boosting heels—that I can still walk in—complete what I’m wearing. They are dark grey court shoes but have a good four-inch heel. The sexy, professional Izzy is going to meet Seb at the bar and try to avoid telling him about her failure with his homework.

  The taxi darts through the streets of Manchester, and after a short while I ask how far away this hotel is.

  “Oh, about another ten minutes, love. It’s that glass tower building there.”

  I crouch down in the back of the cab to peer out of the window. A tall glass tower juts up in the near distance with a somewhat precarious looking overhang halfway up. Sleek, modern, and different. Very Seb. I can feel the excitement in my stomach as we draw closer to my destination.

  I cannot wait to see Seb again and wonder what he has in store for our brief evening liaison. I have checked trains to Liverpool and need to be on the 10:07 train to be in bed in time to be effective in my training session tomorrow. I really shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t really have the time. The taxi pulls up underneath the canopy by the entrance. I slide out as gracefully as possible before I muster all of my confidence and stride in. As though being in the wrong city to meet a man who has agreed to unleash my naughtiest desires is the most natural thing in the world.

  As instructed, I leave my coat and bag in the cloakroom and make my way to the lobby bar. Seb is perched on one of the bar stools with two tall glasses with ice and clear liquid inside them. My insides turn to jelly, all my confidence evaporating as I see him. He turns and catches my eye. A wry smile spreads across his face and I walk across the bar to meet him.

  “Good evening, Isabel. Did you have a pleasant journey?”

  “Very pleasant, thank you, Sebastian. Have you been here long?”

  “Long enough to do all I needed to prepare for your arrival.”

  I look into eyes clouded with desire. My heart rate picks up and the last shreds of control I thought I had dissipate. I lock away all the delicious tho
ughts of what could be in store, and focus on where we are, trying not to get too carried away with myself.

  “How come your company puts you up in classy hotels like this? I get shoved into the basic range places.”

  “We don’t, but I have come to an agreement with my boss. I don’t want the inconvenience of being away from home worsened by staying in some crummy backstreet hotel. He isn’t allowed to authorise more than the budget so I book my own places, charge the company the budget and make up any difference myself. Sometimes I prefer quirky country places, sometimes an excellent bistro with rooms, and sometimes sleek and modern. I think this is appropriate for tonight.”

  “I was thinking in the taxi that this hotel is very you.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  “Well, it commands over the city. It’s modern and sharp but holds a precarious edge of danger.”

  “Very nice. I tended to think of it being suitable for you—beautiful, slender, looks fragile on the outside but has hidden inner strength to remain standing even in the most challenging moments.” He looks right into my eyes as he speaks and it resonates down to my soul. Heat rises in my cheeks and I’m suddenly queasy. His clear, aqua-flecked eyes stare at me, watching for each of my reactions before he breaks the connection and I’m free to take a breath. “So, how have you found your homework this week?”

  My eyes instantly drop to the floor, my reaction speaking much louder than any words.

  “Do you have something you need to tell me, Isabel?”

  I have to admit it. There is no way I could ever lie to this man. So I peer up and nod my head slowly.

  “You failed to do as you were asked?” I nod again. He leans in to me and whispers, “Don’t take another sip of your drink until you go to the ladies, which is in the corner behind you. Remove your knickers, take a few moments to get yourself ‘interested’, and come and hand your knickers to me.”

  I gasp at his words, mentally saying I can’t possibly do something like that, especially in such a public place. My body responds to his command the way it always does and I slip off the bar stool and walk to the ladies.

  I enter the ladies and find an empty cubicle. Almost frantically, I hitch up my skirt and pull my knickers down over my shoes. It is mad, insane. If I stopped to think about it for more than a second, I would be too scared to even contemplate that I am here. A married woman, keenly removing her underwear in a public bar for some man who is not her husband. Don’t think about it, Izzy. Do it and enjoy it. And that’s the problem. I am not surprised that after five minutes of simply being in his presence and assigned my punishment, I am already nicely wet. A few tentative strokes with my finger through the lips of my pussy are plenty to confirm that I am more than ‘interested’. Time to go back. I screw up my black lacy knickers into a tight ball in my hand, flatten out my skirt and unlock the cubicle door. Then it hits me.

  Shit, shit, shit. What the hell am I doing? This is too dangerous, walking across a bar with no knickers to a sexy, dangerous man who wants to punish me.

  Drawing several lungfuls of air, I hold my head up high and regain my composure. I don’t want doubt to creep into my time with Seb. This is no different than every other line he’s helped me cross. I can do this! Plastering on a smile, I exit and stroll out of the ladies, slightly surprised at how… how… ‘okay’ it is to be naked beneath my skirt in public. Seb knows, but no one else has a clue, and being honest with myself, it hardly feels any different. Just sexy.

  I arrive back at the stool and before I sit I hold out my hand with the tight ball of material scrunched up inside it for him. He puts his hand underneath and I carefully loosen the grip of my fingers so my knickers discreetly fall into his palm. He smiles and quickly slips them into the outside pocket of his suit jacket. I hop back onto the stool with a spring in my step, feeling a small sense of achievement that I’ve been able to follow his instruction.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Good, surprisingly. Really good, actually.” As I admit it, I realise I mean it.

  “Isabel, do not be surprised at how you feel. Enjoy it and realise that you are getting what you want and need.”

  I take a deep sip of my G&T, leaving one mouthful left in the glass.

  He places one hand on my leg, above my exposed knee at the hem of my skirt. He slips his hand up my leg until the tips of his fingers are gently probing at the point where my legs have been stuck together with superglue in order to retain some dignity.

  “Relax,” he instructs in a soft but commanding whisper.

  Ha! Easy for you to say. You’re not the one sitting here with no knickers on. I force myself to do as he asks, again unable to do anything but obey his commands. My tensed legs relax and Seb draws his stool closer to me. His fingers trace up my leg and venture under the hem of my skirt, his position obscuring his movements. Anticipation fizzes through me at his next move as I silently beg that he doesn’t continue on his current track.

  I reach toward the bar, trying not to think about how close his hand is to my wanton flesh, and finish off my drink. Perhaps if I drain the glass now, we can finish the evening somewhere more private. His glass is already empty and I set mine down to meet it. He slowly withdraws his hand and gives my knee a gentle squeeze.

  “Would you like another drink, Isabel?”

  No. No, I ‘would like’ you to take me somewhere nearby and fuck me senseless! Make me come so hard it shatters my body into a thousand tiny pieces, and if you would like to spank me again, like you did over your breakfast bar, then that’s fine by me. My cheeks pink and my pussy throbs at the heat of my thoughts.

  “Isabel?”

  His tone shakes me from my daydreaming.

  “Yes, that would be lovely.”

  He smiles and gives me a little wink, suggesting that he knows exactly what I was thinking. I don’t really want another drink, but he is in charge. Seb catches the barman’s eye and he comes over straightaway.

  “Same again, please.”

  It’s the little things Seb does that send a shiver down my spine. He’s so confident and in control that he doesn’t even bother to ask me whether I want the same drink. There is no debate. Few questions. A complete lack of the annoying ‘are you sure?’ conversations that are so draining.

  The drinks arrive and as soon as the barman has turned to walk away, Seb strokes the inside of my leg again, briefly, but a little higher than last time before he takes his hand away. Fuck, he’s teasing me again. Like with the pasta.

  We sit in silence for the first few sips. With Seb, even silence is powerful. He is still and although we are quiet, he looks thoughtful. I sit and sip my drink. The cold liquid soothes my rising temperature. Seb looks like he’s playing something over in his head. I wonder what he is thinking and hope he’s pleased with how well I am receiving my punishment by sitting here as requested and letting him tease me. I catch the insane grin on my face and have to admit that I am enjoying this.

  He breaks the silence and leans in towards me to whisper in my ear. “Come on and drink up. We need to go upstairs for your punishment.”

  Oh no! I thought sitting here having a drink with no knickers on was my punishment. His words wipe the smile from my face. I drop my head and stare at my shoes, gathering my courage. I take a few more sips of my G&T, trying not to rush, before I place it back on the bar. All of the pleasure I was experiencing from doing as I was told weighs heavily in my stomach, replacing all of the lust that was building. I am in a hotel with another man and about to be punished. That thought trumps all of the Dutch courage I have consumed. But it also ignites my blood and sparks the adrenaline in my veins. Fear and trepidation mix a cocktail much more potent than alcohol.

  Seb swallows his last mouthful, leaving his glass half full, before he steps down from his seat. He holds out his hand to steady me as I step down. With his hand at the small of my back, he guides me to the lifts at one side of the lobby and presses the call button. The lift doors slide open and he g
lances around before we step into an empty car. He promptly presses the number 21 and the doors slide closed.

  Before we start to move upwards, he turns around and faces me. He consumes me with a passionate and forceful kiss, exploring my mouth and lips with his tongue. I can sense his hunger for me. We have never kissed quite like this before. It’s raw and has a ferocity that hasn’t been there before. It knocks me off kilter.

  His hands are on me a second later, pressing through the material of my skirt against my pussy. The embers of desire rooted in the centre of my body leap to a full burning fire of want. My legs tingle and my head goes light, dizzy with excitement. The feeling of being totally wanted adds to the elixir of anticipation already flooding my veins. He cups his hand against me—a silent promise of what will come later on.

  The lift slows and comes to a stop, and he is off me in a second. The doors open and I obediently follow him down the short corridor to a second door. He slides his card key out of his pocket and opens the door.

  He holds his hand out to me in front of the open door and we walk into his rather grand executive room with study area, small lounge and a king-sized bed. Floor-to-ceiling windows line the far wall and provide a dazzling view across the night-time cityscape.

  “Did you enjoy the ride up?”

  “Um, yes.” I grin up at him.

  He takes me to stand in front of the window, still holding my hand as we admire the view together. I get it, the similarities to the building and me—fragile but slowly finding the inner strength to stand up on my own. I have grown so fond of Seb guiding me, of him holding my hand. My body is still sizzling after the brief frisson in the lift and I desperately want him. He seems to be light and shadow tonight, intense and dangerous one moment, calm and nonchalant the next. The scene is set for something important, and I sense that the hand-holding is because he is about to take me somewhere dangerous.

  He turns to me and looks me straight in the eye. His icy eyes validate my fears. The look confirms that he won’t be holding my hand through this. His body seems bigger, more intimidating, and I bow my head slightly, feeling shy. I chance a look up at him through my eyelashes.