The Berkeley Method

by JS Taylor

  He uses his finger to move one of the knots over my skin. But this time, he is firmer. I feel the tight knot graze over my lower back.

  Without meaning to, I give a little shudder of anticipation.

  “It seems as though you want to be punished,” observes James.

  I am unable to reply. There are so many conflicting feelings happening at once.

  I have told him I will take anything he can do to me. But am I ready for it, really?

  “I have just made your skin hypersensitive,” says James. “Even a little more firmness would give you some very interesting sensations.”

  He lets the fronds of the whip drop gently onto my back.

  I gasp as the knotted ends hit my highly sensitised skin.

  Desire rushes through every part of me. My entire body is pulsing.

  “So, you can imagine,” says James slowly, “how it might feel, were I to put any force behind this.”

  I tug a little at my restraints. My arms are tied firmly to the top of the bed.

  “Stay still,” says James quietly. His hand slaps my behind. The sharp contact makes me take a sharp intake of breath. I stop moving instantly.

  “I am going to whip you now, Isabella,” says James. “Are you ready?”

  I make a little whimper of acceptance.

  His hand slams into my behind.

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Yes,” I manage.

  “Good,” says James. “This is your submission to me. You are mine, to do what I will with.”

  He lets the fronds gently drop onto my back again. I suppress an uncertain noise.

  “Do you understand that?” he says.

  “Yes,” I agree, faster to reply this time.

  “Good,” says James. “Now. Keep still. I am going to give you the first lash.”

  There’s an excruciating pause, and for a moment I think he may have changed his mind.

  Then I hear a whistling through the air. And the knotted fronds of the whip strike my lower back and the tops of my buttocks. Hard.

  “Ahhhh!” I make a sound, which is part pleasured moan and part cry.

  The whip falls again, higher up on my back, and then a third time, between my shoulder blades. The rush of sensation is almost too much to bear.

  James pauses, allowing the fronds to dangle again over my back. This time, every touch brings an electric throb between my legs.

  “What did that feel like?” asks James.

  “I…” It’s hard to speak with the whip still moving softly over me.

  “Painful?” he asks.

  “I… No. Not exactly,” I manage. It’s true. It wasn’t exactly painful. It was at the very edge. On the divide, between pleasure and pain.

  “Intense?” he suggests.

  “Yes.” Yes, that is the word. Intense.

  James pauses for a moment, allowing the whip to continue its slow snaking movements over the skin of my back. My lust is almost at screaming point.

  “I can see from your body how badly you want me to fuck you,” he observes.

  I give a little moan, pushing my face into the bed.

  “I’m going to give you five more strokes with the whip,” he says. “After the first two, I will judge if it is too much for you.”

  The whip continues to move deliciously, teasingly, as he speaks.

  “But, I am not in the mood to be merciful. We made an agreement, did we not? That you would beg for mercy.”

  I give another little moan.

  “So,” he says, raising the whip away from my skin. “Let’s make you beg.”

  I hear the swish in the air, and the whip strikes my lower back. It’s harder this time, drilling down into a new area of desire in my body.

  “Arrgh.” I muffle my moans into the bed.

  He trails the whip across the top of my buttocks.

  “Here next,” he decides.

  There’s a swish, and a loud crack as the knotted fronds connect all across my buttocks.

  I make a moaning sound and bury my face down into the sheets. The sensation is indescribable. Pleasure, pain and dark lust all rolled into one. My rear is stinging, but with every prickle, I feel hot desire grow stronger, moving down my thighs and in between my legs.

  “Open your legs,” says James.

  Oh God. How much more of this can I take?

  I shuffle my legs open a little. He leans forward and roughly pushes them further apart using the whip handle.

  I am exposed, totally vulnerable, and burning with desire.

  I feel James move forward, close between my legs. And then, very gently, he blows on my wetness.

  “Ahhhh!” I am gasping, groaning, begging for him. Then I feel the fronds of the whip trail up my inner thighs.

  James pauses with the fronds just a few inches from where he has just blown.

  “Beg me,” he says. “Beg me to fuck you.”

  I stay perfectly still, unable to speak.

  I feel him stand, and then the whip ends strike hard across my lower buttocks and the tops of my thighs. With my legs apart, the knotted fronds hit high up, on my inner thighs.

  This time I cry out.

  “Please!” I gasp.

  “Please what?” I can hear the satisfaction in his voice.

  “Please fuck me,” I manage, barely able to get the words out through the thickness of my desire. My body is aflame, burning. Every thought in my head is turned to having him inside me.

  “Say it again,” he says, mercilessly.

  “Please fuck me,” I plead.

  I feel the whip strike across my shoulder blades, and I make another strangled cry of frustrated desire. Then it hits across my buttocks, and I convulse.

  The feeling is so intense, I can hardly take it.

  And then he’s on top of me again, unbuttoning his jeans with one hand, pressing into the heated skin of my buttocks.

  “I told you,” he whispers into my ear, “that I would give you five strokes.”

  “Yes,” I gasp, hardly aware of what I’m saying.

  “And I am impressed, Isabella,” he continues. His own voice is tight with lust now, and I hear him roll on a condom. “It took three before you gave in to me.”

  I close my eyes, begging for him to be inside me.

  “I have never whipped anyone with such restraint,” he says, moving his hands to cup my breasts.

  He pinches both nipples hard between his fingers. I buck up towards his body, gasping.

  “I’m going to fuck you now,” he continues, “and because you dealt with the whip so well, I am going to fuck you hard and deep. Are you ready for that?”

  I close my eyes again, barely able to respond.

  “Yes,” I manage.

  He pulls a pillow from the top of the bed and pushes it under my stomach, angling me up towards him.

  “Mmmm,” he says appreciatively as my naked behind becomes more exposed to him.

  He parts my buttocks with his hands and moves his erection between them. I feel it press against the centre of my ass.

  “One day, I’m going to fuck you here,” he whispers.

  I stay perfectly still, not trusting my body not to betray me.

  “And when I do,” he continues, “it’s going to be hard and rough.”

  He pushes more firmly against my ass. It’s not enough to let him inside, but my ass opens to him, just slightly. Enough to send faint jolts of pain sparking through me.

  I can feel the power of his hardness. How little effort it would take for him to drive fully inside.

  Then he moves away, and down to where I am throbbing and wet for him.

  I feel him hard against me. And then, with a sharp push of his hips, he’s deep inside.

  I let out a cry of pure animal pleasure.

  With the pillow propped beneath me, he can push deeper than he’s ever gone. And tied to the bed, I am helpless against his measured thrusts. He pushes into me, reaching a point which is almost painful. And in my prone
position, I can do nothing but take the length of him fully.

  I moan, and he begins to move faster. I am completely powerless to prevent him opening me up so deeply. The feeling is both exquisite and a little frightening.

  Then he pulls out of me and twists me around on the bed to face him. I find myself staring up into the hard lust of his green eyes. He tugs the pillow from under me and grabs my ankles, pushing my legs high into the air.

  Then he’s kneeling, and he slides himself roughly inside me again. It’s not as deep, but the new angle allows him to go harder. I feel my body shuddering against the strength of his hips. He pulls apart my ankles and uses my dancer’s flexibility to drape my legs over his shoulders.

  Then he grips both of my buttocks and hammers into me, hard and fast.

  My hands are still tied firmly above my head, and I lie completely open to him as he moves faster and harder inside of me. Then he moves his hand between my legs, and he’s rubbing lightly across my clitoris with his thumb.

  I orgasm almost immediately, my legs shaking around his shoulders as my whole body convulses, again and again.

  “God, you’re so sexy,” moans James as the waves of orgasm take all of my body and surrender it to him.

  He makes three final solid thrusts, and then he’s coming inside me as I orgasm. His hand reaches up to grab my hair, and he gasps in pleasure. And then he collapses forward onto me, stroking along my face, and burying his head into my hair.

  His green eyes have lost their harder edge now. They are questioning, a little uncertain.

  We both lie for a moment, staring into one another’s eyes and breathing hard.

  “It’s not easy to stay in control around you,” he says after a moment.

  I raise an eyebrow. “I see.”

  He gives a devilish grin.

  “I had planned to keep you restrained for much longer,” he adds, “but seeing you helpless like that - it was very difficult.”

  I smile back at him.

  “So,” I say finally. “Did I pass the test?”

  “Oh yes,” says James. “You passed the test. It makes me think I should test you more often.”

  He reaches up and begins to untie my hands. “At least five times a day, in fact,” he adds, releasing my wrists from their bonds.

  “I don’t know about that,” I reply in the same joking tone. “I’m not sure if I’m that kind of girl.”

  And in the second I say it, I realise I’m really not sure. I’m no longer sure about anything.

  “That’s interesting,” says James, kissing my mouth. “Because you are much more that sort of girl than I ever dreamed you would be.”

  Chapter 23

  We fall asleep early, and wake early too. It’s only the second time I’ve awoken with James in my bed. And once again, I feel as though some kind of victory has been made.

  His arms are wrapped tight around me, hugging me protectively. I twist around in bed to face him, and find he is already awake.

  “Good morning gorgeous,” he says, kissing my mouth. “I’ve been watching you sleep for the last hour.”

  I smile at him.

  “Isn’t that a little bit creepy?”

  He shrugs, smiling. “Maybe. I don’t care. I’ve never seen someone sleep so peacefully. You look like an angel.”

  “An angel with dark hair?” I tease. “I thought they were supposed to be blonde.”

  “A half-Spanish angel,” he confirms, “more beautiful than any other heavenly creature.”

  I laugh. “You know, you are the only man I know who can get away with saying things like that.”

  “It’s the accent,” he deadpans, pronouncing his cut-glass English even more formally.

  I laugh again. “I think it is.”

  His face sets a little more seriously, and he’s searching my face now.

  “Are you sore?” he asks.

  I remember last night, and make a mental tour of my body.

  “No,” I say after a moment. “I’m not.”

  James looks relieved.

  “You gave me a gift last night,” he says.

  I pause, not sure how to answer. I did, it’s true, give him the submission he wanted. But was there something in it for me too? It’s all so confusing.

  “You gave up some of your innocence,” he continues. “I can’t believe you would do that for me.”

  I move my hand to stroke his cheek.

  “I would do a lot for you,” I admit.

  He brings his hands to hold my hips, pulling me close, and kisses my mouth again.

  “And I would do anything for you,” he says. His arms circle tighter around me, as though he means never to let me go.

  Then James moves forward to kiss me.

  As our lips touch, I feel as though I’ve been elevated to another dimension. The room, the bed, everything falls away. Only James remains.

  “Isabella.” He’s pulling away gently.

  “James?” I’m blinking up at him, still transported with the pleasure of his kiss.

  “I’m in love with you,” he says, his eyes showing that he means every word.

  In love with me?

  My heart gives a leap of pure joy.

  “It’s very new to me,” he adds. “And a little frightening. But it’s true. I’ve fallen in love with you, Issy.”

  I break into a wide, warm smile.

  “I love you too.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  James closes his eyes, as though it’s a difficult thing to take in.

  “Well then,” he says after a moment, “what’s to be done about this predicament?”

  We’re both smiling at each other now, and our smiles widen into broad grins.

  He pauses a moment. “I want to move things forward,” he says, “with Madison.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it all night,” he says, “in between watching you sleep.”

  I’d forgotten he didn’t sleep.

  “I can’t carry on pretending in public there’s nothing between you and I,” he continues. “It feels… so disrespectful. To you. With all you mean to me. It’s wrong to keep you a secret. You’re too good for that.”

  I look at him, still not quite sure what he’s suggesting.

  “I was going to wait a few weeks,” he says. “But I’m going to announce my divorce from Madison today. I’ll talk it through with her first. She’ll understand. Then we’ll break it to the press.”

  Whoa. This feels fast.

  “Wait,” I hear myself saying. “Isn’t that… I mean. Can you divorce someone so quickly?”

  “We never took any vows, Issy,” says James, gently. “We never signed any papers. There was no ceremony. The marriage was only a show.”

  I am still trying to decide how I feel about this.

  “But isn’t that hypocritical?” I ask. “To let people think you’ve taken a sacred vow. It seems… wrong.”

  James considers this. “I believe in the sanctity of marriage,” he says finally. “If I made a vow, it would be for life.”

  His face looks very serious.

  “My friends and the people I care about, are all aware that Madison isn’t really my wife,” he continues, “and those are the opinions I value. I place no value in what the press thinks of my private life.”

  I didn’t realise any of this. It makes me think better of him, to know he hasn’t taken a vow he doesn’t mean. That he believes in marriage.

  But I still feel so uncertain. I hate the idea of a divorce being announced, because of me. Even if it’s a fake divorce.

  Am I getting cold feet? Everyone knowing about us. It feels frightening.

  James is nodding. “It could,” he says, apologetically. “I’ll do everything I can to manage it. We wouldn’t announce our relationship to the world right away, Issy. Only the divorce.”

  He takes my hands. “Going public now would lay you open to bad feeling in the pres
s. Madison is very popular. And you are young and very beautiful.”

  I see the headlines. He’s right. I’d be crucified.

  I close my eyes. Do I really want this? It seems as though either way, I lose.

  Dating a famous person is so complicated.

  “We’d manage your exposure,” he continues. “A few thousand dollars in the right place, and we can govern how you appear in the papers.”

  A few thousand dollars?

  “Wait,” I’m holding my hands up. “I’m not sure, James. Not all that money. I don’t know about this.”

  “But I do,” he says firmly. “I won’t have you hidden in the shadows anymore. It’s demeaning to you. I’m a gentleman, Issy. I don’t disrespect women. Especially not a woman like you.”

  The sincerity in his eyes is compelling. I feel myself swept along with the force of his argument.

  “There’s another reason,” he adds. “The press could find out about us at any moment. I can’t trust myself to keep away from you. I am simply incapable of the kind of restraint which would guarantee your safety.”

  He gives me a half smile. “You only have yourself to blame for that,” he adds.

  “Oh, do I?” I smile back.

  “Yes. And the sooner we go public, the sooner that risk is gone.”

  I think about this. It makes sense, I guess.

  “Ok,” I say slowly. “Manage it however you think best.”

  James nods, pleased at this.

  “Wait,” I add. “How will you be seen in the newspapers?”

  “Me the bad guy, Madison the sad victim,” he says instantly.

  “But… But that’s not fair.” I protest.

  James shrugs. “It’s the fastest way to get the press off my back. If we do it the slow way, the press will be all over me, painting me as heartbroken. If I’m the bad guy, the focus will be on Madison. That’s just how things work with a Hollywood break-up.”

  He takes my face in his hands. “This way, I protect you,” he adds. “If I’m the bad guy, then you’re just some poor girl who came too soon after the split. Do it the other way, we risk the press will paint you as a marriage wrecker.”

  “How do you know that?” I challenge.

  “Believe me, Issy,” he says wearily, “the press is something I know a lot about. You can’t stay in this business without understanding how they work.”