“Not a hard limit.” I’m not sure, but I think it might be for me. Where this woman is concerned.
I ignore the urge to qualify that emotion.
“Anal?” I ask instead.
“Not a hard limit.”
“You are very accommodating, Haydee.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I’m not sure what to make of her. Most subs have at least two or three things on their hard limit list. For a moment I am unsure if I can trust her. Trust is essential. It throws my mind into a spiral of what-ifs that make me pause for breath.
I had intended more tonight. I want her so badly my balls are going blue beneath her pert little arse. Talk of anal is making it impossible to think of little else. But I need distance. She needs distance.
“That will do for tonight,” I say, she moves to get off my lap. So obedient.
The chain pulls her to a halt halfway to standing. I don’t release it.
“How many nights per week?” I say, slowly unravelling the chain from around my wrist.
She watches, mesmerised, then lifts calm eyes to my face.
“Three.” It’s standard. I should accept.
“And the weekends.”
Her face immediately tips to the floor. That was a no. Her weekends are hers. She wants to keep them. And suddenly I want nothing more than to claim some part of them for myself.
“At least one night per weekend, in addition to the three nights per week,” I say. “Dinner, maybe a show,” I add, in way of incentive.
I have no idea if it is anything that could possibly persuade this woman.
“One night per weekend,” she says slowly.
“You’d like dinner? A show?” I can’t help but ask. I shouldn’t care, but I know I do.
Her head nods in that graceful, controlled way she has.
“Excellent,” I murmur. “You have pleased me.”
Her smile is all encompassing. With reluctance I release her chain.
She doesn’t flirt as she dresses. But it isn’t a perfunctory act either. It’s art in motion and as hypnotic as her grace. Within too short an amount of time she is clad in a simple shift dress, her legs covered in silk stockings, her feet encased in four inch heels that make her ankles look almost too delicate.
She stands in the middle of the room and looks towards the floor. It is in no way cowed or nervous in nature. Serenity pours from every cell in this woman’s body. She is beautiful. Maybe even as beautiful as she looked swallowing my cock.
“Thank you, Haydee,” I say. “Sunday night. Seven o’clock. Let yourself in and kneel by the front door. Clothes on or off at your discretion.”
She nods her head and offers me a small lip twitch. Her eyes are sparkling, even from this angle.
“You may go,” I offer and watch her sweep from the room in a haze of vanilla and roses.
I listen for the door opening, the soft beep of the alarm. It takes slightly longer than I would have expected. The moment she is gone I rise from my chair and walk out to the hall table.
Sitting in the dish is a folded piece of card.
On it is written, Salutem. The Latin word for safety. And her safeword.
I think I might have just been given a glimpse inside this intriguing woman’s mind.
And it only makes me hunger for more.
Chapter Four
“It’s under the stars.”
Sunday takes too long to arrive. I throw myself into work and avoid the club at all costs. It’s a combination that for some reason fails to settle my mind. Work is hollow. And the distraction the club could provide is a gaping hole in my routine.
But although more than one invitation has been issued to meet at Sweet Hell, I have turned each down with the exception of a drink on Sunday afternoon with Jason. Avoiding him could prove fatal to whatever burgeoning relationship I have chosen to start with Haydee.
He is in fine form when I arrive at the Whiskey Lounge on Karangahape Road. It’s too close to Sweet Hell, but far enough away for me not to be sucked into it. Even if it is just across the street.
“Ethan, you look strung out, my friend,” he says as I take the seat beside him and accept the offer of Dalwhinnie he has already ordered for me.
I take a sip, let the smooth warmth of the fifteen year old whisky soothe me, and then turn an impassive face to my friend.
“Work is busy,” I offer. We both know it is a lie.
“And yet none of it has crossed my desk.”
“I would be a very poor superintendent if I came running to you with every single case that clogs up my desk.”
He smiles, it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. He’s genuinely pleased to see me and for a moment I second guess his motives.
“And how are things with your new pet?” he asks, bringing us full circle again.
“Progressing,” I offer as I sip my drink.
“David Gordon is not happy with you,” he points out as if I wasn’t already aware of this fact. Gordon has been insisting for days that I return to Sweet Hell and face his wrath.
“Has he been seen with Samantha?” I query calmly. I don’t feel calm, but you would not know it to look at me. The whisky soothes as more slips down my throat.
“She’s been busy with someone else,” Jason advises, watching a woman across the room who has been unable to look elsewhere for several minutes. He lifts his glass in a salute, receiving an inviting smile in return. A calculating expression crosses his face as he no doubt plans the rest of his evening based on that one come-hither look.
“Who’s the lucky man?” I ask. Not that I’m interested, Samantha is of no real concern to me. I feel no obligation to ensure her safety or that her choices are well founded. But interest in someone other than Haydee will downplay my addiction.
“Don’t know. She’s not been seen at Sweet Hell, but she’s certainly been busy,” he says. “Gordon thought it might have been you.”
I laugh. Jason is fishing again. He’s been unable to work out my motives and like any decent policeman he’s obsessed with discovering the truth.
“There are certain things that Samantha can offer,” I say carefully. “Occasionally she fills a void.”
“Is she filling one now with your new pet?”
“It’s early days, Jason,” I counter. “I have yet to decide what role Haydee will play.”
“That is unlike you, Ethan,” he points out. “You’ve never had to pause before you act before.”
He’s right and I suddenly think meeting with him is very dangerous.
“And you? It’s been a while for you too,” I say. The non sequitur does not fool him, but he plays along for now.
“I’ve been broadening my horizons.”
“Is that so?” I take a sip of whisky and smile at him over the rim. He offers a beaming grin back.
“I thought I’d try blondes for a while.”
I laugh. It’s exactly what Jason had been aiming for.
“Just one?” I query.
“Well, it all depends on the blonde, doesn’t it?”
I finish my drink and he holds his up in question. I shake my head. One whisky is more than enough with Jason Farland. I still haven’t worked out his endgame.
“I have a date,” I say, pushing up from my seat and moving to leave.
“Haydee?”
There’s no point denying it. “Yes.”
“And what’s on the agenda for tonight?” The way he asks has me thinking he already knows. But how he does is a mystery. Jason is just very good at making you see things that aren’t necessarily there.
“Dinner and a show.”
“Well, that is something new.”
“Maybe I’m broadening my horizons too,” I offer.
Jason just smiles. I nod my head and turn to leave.
“Word of warning, friend,” he says, halting me in my tracks.
I turn back and raise a single eyebrow, unimpressed.
His back straightens at the obv
ious reaction he’s received. The challenge I’ve thrown back at his feet. He stands from his own stool to meet me, eye to eye.
“Gordon’s out for blood. You pissed him off with that move the other night. Samantha is his in every way that it counts. You overstepped, Ethan. He’s going to make your life a living hell.”
“Gordon doesn’t frighten me,” I offer. “But what is interesting, is your role as messenger. Since when do you let yourself be bullied into doing anything as lowly as pass on warnings?”
He smiles. The skin around his eyes doesn’t crinkle.
“The warning’s mine, not his,” he argues. “I see a change in you, Ethan. I’m not sure if it’s for the better. But I have hope.”
“I don’t need your interference.”
“Then shall I take her back?”
My hand comes out and wraps around his shirt collar before I think better of it.
“You believe threatening me will make a difference?” I hiss.
His eyes dart down to my unforgiving grip of his clothing, then slowly come back up to my face.
This time when he smiles his eyes are surrounded by laugh lines. True humour fanning out from each orbit.
His hand comes down and slaps me on the shoulder. Then he spots something behind me.
“Care for a bit of sport before you go?”
I release his shirt and look in the direction of his gaze. The blonde he’d been eyeing now has a friend. Brunette, dark eyes, long hair, tanned skin. The fact she meets my criteria so perfectly is surprising. The knowing look Jason gives me is alarming.
“Friends of yours?” I ask.
“Come on, Ethan. Wet your whistle before your dinner and show. Nothing better than taking the edge off to keep your pet begging for more. It’ll do you good.”
The offer is at once familiar and also calculating. In a way that lets me know refusing would count against me in whatever this battle is Jason and I are now entwined in. If I accept, and spend a few soulless minutes in a dark corner with Jason and these women, I’ll convince him Haydee is nothing but a potential pet. One of many.
If I refuse, I confirm her significance.
Right now I’m not sure either would be wise, but I have to make a choice.
Jason signals the women and they approach. I’m immediately comparing the brunette’s lack of grace with Haydee’s infinite supply of it. She walks with her head held high and her back straight, but the challenge in her eyes counters her serenity. This woman would spark under careful controlled command. She wouldn’t simmer on low and then slowly burst into heated flames. She’d explode.
An interesting thought, but unusually irrelevant.
I check my watch purposefully, as though I haven’t the time to humour Jason and his perfect match. The women make our sides and the blonde immediately sidles up to Jason, her breasts spilling out of a too tight top. The brunette eyes me speculatively. There is interest there, I just can’t tell if it is engineered because of a deal with my friend.
This is a test. One I am about to fail.
“Well, hello there, ladies,” Jason says in his non dominant voice. He’s testing the waters. Or playing a role to make me think this hasn’t been planned. “My name is Jason and this is Ethan. Are you looking for some fun tonight?”
“Definitely,” the blonde says, allowing Jason’s hands to wander.
“How about we find a secluded corner to get to know each other better?” Jason suggests. The brunette hasn’t stopped eyeing me, but as yet is not as eager as her friend for contact.
“As tempting as this is,” I start.
Jason turns towards me and holds my stare with an impassive one of his own. Nothing further is said, but so much is conveyed in that one steady look.
“An interesting choice,” he finally remarks. “What’s five minutes between friends?”
“I don’t have five minutes to spare,” I counter.
“You may lie to me,” Jason says wrapping an arm around the blonde’s shoulders and moving to do the same to the brunette. “But never to yourself, Ethan.” He starts directing the women away.
I watch, aware I’ve just exposed my underbelly to another dominant, as they make their way to a dark corner in the back of the bar specifically designed for just such entertainment. Jason’s face is already in the crook of the blonde’s neck, teeth scraping skin. While his hand is slipping down the rear of the brunette’s skirt and squeezing her arse.
Both women drape themselves over my friend, clearly ready to party.
I shake my head, dispel the unease I feel at where our friendship is going, and then head out the front of the bar not looking back. I feel eyes on me, but they could just as easily be too busy to care. Once again, Jason is making me see things that may not actually be there.
The drive home is a disconcerting one. David Gordon is not a good enemy to have. I’d been aware of what the potential consequences could have been when I’d chosen to take Samantha from him the other night. But reality is a good leveller. If he seeks retribution, Haydee would be his goal.
I’ve lost my touch. I’m completely acting out of character. In trying to manipulate the game to my advantage I’ve walked right into a trap. Maybe even two. Jason is up to something. Part of me thinks it is purely an intervention, an attempt to get me to feel. But the cynical part of me, too long left to flourish, believes he’s pushing my buttons for an entirely self-motivated reason.
What does he want?
I decide there is no option but to stake my claim on Haydee publicly. To declare her mine and no one else’s. A dark thought occurs to me as I pull my car around the back of my house. Maybe Haydee isn’t interested in exclusivity.
The solution is simple. I won’t give her a choice.
It is within the realms of my role as her master to dictate the rules. Even if doing so fails in my responsibilities in providing her what she desires. The thought her wishes could be counter to mine is chilling.
The realisation that I am spending too long analysing this arrangement is frustrating.
It is in anger that I enter my house.
My first stop is the office where I empty my briefcase and sort through those files that need my immediate attention. Bringing work home is part of my job. If I didn’t, I’d spend every God forsaken hour at the station. There are several items I’ll have to attend to before I return to work tomorrow. And they only crossed my work desk this morning.
Weekends don’t mean close of business for the Police.
I sort the files, slipping those more urgent into the top drawer and then stash my laptop in its locked cupboard beneath the desk The only item left on the table’s surface is a single sheet of paper with a list of words and a mark in the negative column beside each.
I stare at the confirmation of my sexually transmitted disease status and then pick it up and move it to the hall table. It will be the first thing Haydee sees when she enters my house. It is standard procedure to have one done at the start of an arrangement. Mine was executed last week, the day after she first appeared at my door. Depending on our exclusivity agreement, one may need to be carried out weekly.
I have no intention of having to perform another test any time soon.
I turn away from the document and walk upstairs to shower and dress.
The alarm beeping to announce Haydee’s arrival brings me out of a moment where I hadn’t realise I’d been standing staring at a picture of Lara as a child beside my bed. She’s dressed up as Pippi Longstocking, about to attend a birthday party for one of her school friends. She’s eight years old in the photo and looks nothing like herself in the disguise.
That is, of course, why it’s the only picture I have of my daughter in my house. And the fact it is in my bedroom means more than I’ve cared to admit to myself in the past.
I turn my attention to the full length mirror, allowing Haydee enough time to prepare herself for my arrival. I’d given her a measure of control this evening. Her choice whether to be dresse
d when she kneels or not. It tells me a lot about a pet which option they choose. I have yet to be surprised by their choice.
I have yet to have one still clothed.
I am already hardening as I make my way down the stairs.
I see her before I reach the ground floor. A small figure, on her knees, facing the hallway, back to the door. Her hands rest on her thighs. Her head is bowed in perfect submission. Her short hair hides nothing of the high cheekbones and the slight flush that graces them.
I stop on the bottom most tread and appreciate my prize.
She is not naked.
Nor is she fully dressed.
Haydee has decided to gift me a present. Silk stockings adorn her long legs, attached to dark red garter belts on each thigh. Her underwear is silk and lace, in a luscious deep red colour. It’s a one piece, cinching in her small waist, allowing her breasts to spill out of the half cup brassiere. Her nipples are accessible above the lace line of the decolletage. Both are hardened to impressive peaks. She wears her chain wrapped securely three times around her neck.
This woman has control over me. I would never have guessed that possible. She surprises and my reaction is refreshing. It has been a long time since I last invited surprise into my life.
Shock and devastation made it impossible.
But looking at Haydee now and I wonder if it is time to embrace the delight that can be found in the unexpected.
I take the last step to bring me onto her same level and walk toward her, my shoes announcing my arrival with dull, purposeful thuds on the wooden floor. I realise she’s still wearing her high heels, the long spike of the heel just visible at her butt cheeks as I come to rest a foot before her.
My eyes catch on the hall table to the side. My confirmation letter has been replaced with an almost identical one. The name at the top reads Haydee Elizabeth Armstrong. All the negative boxes have been checked and at the bottom the testing facility has also confirmed the implantation of an intrauterine contraceptive device.
I let a slow breath of air out at the implications. Implications I’ve never considered before. Despite clear bills of health, I have always insisted on using a condom. No condom, no intercourse. But Haydee has offered a first. When will the surprises stop?
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