by Diana Castle
She picked up Lyle’s note and read it again.
7:45 p.m. This Friday.
She put the note down and released a breath. She couldn’t help but think that this was one of those crossroads moments. That whatever decision she made could, possibly, affect the rest of her life. She glanced at the book she had laid down when the intercom had buzzed. The book which contained the story concerning Lady Margaret Claypool and the Viscount Letchford. The story she had planned to finish and then, afterwards, use it as a fantasy to masturbate herself to sleep with.
She picked up the bra and looked at the label. It was very expensive. She made a handsome salary at the firm, but even she would not have been able to afford lingerie from this particular designer. Gorgeous and sexy, but definitely way out of her league.
She was not surprised to see that the bra was exactly her size.
* * * * *
Helen nervously stood in front of the door to Lyles’ apartment. Her hands squeezed a small, black purse. Her heart was trip-hammering and her mouth was so dry it felt like sandpaper.
Turn around, she quietly urged herself. You still have time.
She could turn around, go home and just be content reading her erotic novels. She could be satisfied with dreaming about what she yearned for. It was safer that way. It always safer that way.
Everett Lyle’s face suddenly appeared in her mind. The way he had coolly watched her in the low lights of the conference room. She had tried to keep her mind on her presentation, to focus all her attention on convincing him to choose her firm for the design of his new home. But all during the meeting her body had been responding to him. Wanting him. Aching for him.
An instinctive female reaction, she supposed, to the presence of a powerful, handsome male.
But he hadn’t responded to her in kind so she had assumed he wasn’t interested. At least he hadn’t been interested in her presentation or in hiring her firm. But he had been interested in her, and he was apparently offering to her what she’d wanted for so long.
A chance to balance the dark desires inside her with the world she was forced to live in. A world where she had to be restrained and sedate and proper. A world where it was only in the privacy of her home that she could, at least in her imagination, indulge in the darkest of her desires. The need to feel both pain and pleasure under a man’s hands. A chance to experience equilibrium.
She knocked on the door, her heart now slamming inside her chest.
Lyles opened it.
Helene looked up at his stern, handsome face. It was just as she remembered it. The thick dark hair, the intense, deep-set eyes, the aquiline nose, square jaw and firm mouth. He was dressed casually in shirt and slacks, but he might as well have been naked due to the sheer animal presence of him. She’d never been with a man who was so unabashedly male.
He stared at her for a moment, his eyes boldly sweeping across her body. He curtly nodded then gestured for her to enter.
As she entered his apartment, Helen couldn’t help but wonder that if she hadn’t been dressed as he had instructed her to be would he have let her in? She had the distinct suspicion that he wouldn’t have.
The high heels of the red shoes he’d sent her clicked on the hardwood floor of the foyer as she followed him into the apartment.
“I have something to show you,” he said. “Come.”
She stopped. No hello? Or how are you? Or even the offer of a drink? Just do as I say and be quick about it?
He continued across the room, not even looking back to see if she was coming. She frowned. He was being just as reserved and distant as he’d been at the presentation. Again, she wondered if she should just go home. Would he try to stop her if she did? For some reason, she doubted it. He was, in a way she could only sense but not explain, leaving all of this up to her. She would have to do as he commanded, but only if she wanted to.
She adjusted the black skirt across her hips as it was quite tight then followed him over to the wall nearest to the large windows. Lyles lived on the top floor of the building in a luxury penthouse. Outside the windows was a spectacular view of the New York skyline. Lights glimmered across the towering skyscrapers while below the white headlights and red backlights of cars and taxis and buses flowed along the streets.
Lyles had stopped in front of a built-in glassed cabinet. Inside the cabinet were framed pictures, what look liked awards and some objects d’art. He pulled open a drawer which was beneath the cabinet. Inside, carefully stored, was a collection of assorted spanking paraphernalia: paddles, whips, belts, rods, canes. A miscellany of instruments to be used for both pain and pleasure.
Helen’s eyes widened at the sight of them, her throat tightening.
He picked up a strap of leather, the end of which was split into two tails. “This is a tawse. It’s from Scotland. It was originally used to discipline students in school.” He turned it over in his large, finely shaped hands. “This one is a Lochgelly Taswe.”
“Lochgelly?” Helen could barely speak her throat was so tight.
He nodded. “This one's a medium weight. I have others in London. I’ll have them sent over when my home is completed.”
Helen frowned. That reminded her. “Why didn’t you choose our firm? Was it something I said or did? Or didn’t do?”
He arched a dark brow. “What do you think?”
She shrugged. She was trying to act nonchalant. But that voice of his. That rich, refined, virile voice, and the way it slid into her ears, down her neck, along her spine and around her ass.
He slowly ran the straps of the tawse through his long fingers. Its leather tails looked so glossy and black and heavy.
Her throat closed completely as she imagined it lashing across her naked flesh.
“Do you blame yourself?” he asked.
Her boss had not been subtle in letting her know he considered it entirely her fault the firm had missed out on having secured a very big client.
“Well?” Lyles prompted. There was a hint of impatience in his voice.
She reluctantly drew her eyes away from the tawse and looked up at him.
“Yes, I...” She stopped and cleared her throat. “I failed, I suppose.”
“And were you punished for your failure?”
She blinked. “Punished?”
His green eyes gazed deeply into hers. “Chastised for your failure. Disciplined for your malfeasance."
“My boss was not happy but—”
“Obviously. But did he punish you?” His voice bore down on the word punish.
“No, of course he didn’t punish me.” At least not in the way Lyles’ was suggesting. Her boss had made it clear that he wasn’t happy about losing Lyles as a client, but so far he hadn’t done anything in retaliation. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t. He was well-known for holding grudges against his employees. Sometimes for weeks and even months.
Lyle’s lips furled into a slight, edged smile. “Would you like to be?”
"What?"
He brandished the tawse, the thick tails flicking through the air. “Punished."
Helen licked her lips, her heart once again pounding. “Is that why you invited me here?”
“Answer my question.”
She glanced at the tawse in his hand. “With that?”
His eyes glimmered at her and his jaw firmed. She realized she hadn’t done as he’d commanded. She hadn’t answered his question. She’d only responded with another question.
He released a breath as if he were allowing her this one transgression. He swept his hand over the other objects in the drawer. “I have my preferences but...” He held the tawse by its handle and again flicked it through the air. “I do like my Lochgelly.”
“And those who have...?” She gestured at the tawse, her pulse beating painfully in her throat. "...been under it?"
His lips curled up further. “There have been no complaints."
Helen stared at the tawse. She’d only fantasized about being spanked and certain
ly not with something like that. She’d always imagined a large, strong, masculine palm powerfully striking her bare ass. This was something else entirely. But the longer she looked at the tawse, the wetter she got.
“Then yes. I want to be punished with that.”
He pointed to a pole near the wall. “Over there.”
She went over to the pole. It was all she could do not to trip in the shoes he had sent her. She’d never in her life worn shoes with heels this high.
“Take off your skirt.”
She hesitated. This was it. It was now or nothing. Again, she thought about leaving. Instead, she unzipped the skirt and stepped carefully out of it so that she wouldn’t snare the hem on her high-heeled shoes. For all she knew, Lyles would demand the clothes back after he was finished with her.
She glanced around. There was no place nearby for her to put it.
“Drop it,” he said.
She did so, conscious of her bare buttocks and the thong riding up the crack of her ass.
“Turn around and take hold of the pole.”
She did as he instructed, her hands trembling. She felt utterly vulnerable, terrifingly exposed and entirely subject to his every whim.
It was the most delicious feeling she’d ever experienced.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Helen swallowed and nodded. His large, cool hand firmly cupped one cheek of her ass. She heard his slow, even breath, smelled his scent, his cologne musky and decidedly male. She stared at the cream-colored wall opposite her and slowly closed her eyes.
As if that were the signal—although she knew Lyles could not see her face—she heard the sharp whisk of the tawse as it sliced through the air.
The leather straps lashed across her skin. She shuddered, her moist hands gripping the pole, her cunt puckering, hot tears stinging the edges of her eyes. It was more than she could ever have imagined. None of her fantasies had prepared her for this. The pain radiated from her ass, around her hips and over to her pussy.
Oh, god. It hurt so much.
She feared that she would not be able to continue.
Oh, god. It felt so good.
She feared that he would not continue.
“Please,” she whispered. She didn’t know if she was pleading with him to stop or to continue.
Lyles flogged her across her ass. Again. And again. And again. The pain was like a steady beating of waves against the shore. Pulling away and then surging back in. Her nipples had hardened under her blouse and her pussy was so wet she could feel the moistness dribbling down her thighs. The heat was building inside her body so powerfully that it felt as if her blood were scalding and all she was breathing was dry ash. Her hands clutched the pole, but her palms were so damp they kept sliding down it.
After the last, sizzling lash, Lyles demanded she beg him for the next one.
She did, her voice breaking with a sob.
And she begged him for each and every one thereafter.
He did not speak as he flogged her. All she heard from behind him was his breath and an occasional grunt. As the blows continued to rain across her quivering buttocks, Helen pushed her breasts against the pole and rubbed her taut nipples along it, which sent an electric current straight to her cunt. She wriggled her ass each time Lyles struck her, which caused the thong she was wearing to ride up between the lips of her sex, rubbing steadily against her clitoris. The thin fabric was slick with her wetness.
She soon lost count of the strokes of the tawse. He appeared to want to pace himself for he laid the straps of the tawse across her buttocks in a steady rhythm. But she had noted that he was striking her faster as if he were building to a climax. Her climax, perhaps.
“More?” His voice was heavy and thick, like the honey that had pooled at the base of her belly.
She leaned weakly against the pole, her breath fast and harsh. She rubbed up and down it like a cat along its master's leg. Tears streamed from her eyes. But they were as much tears of joy as of pain.
“One more. Please,” she whispered.
The leather straps of the tawse slashed against her buttocks.
The hardest and most satisfying stroke yet.
She cried out and violently shuddered against the pole and what she felt was more than an orgasm. As she climaxed, a sensation of symmetry swept through her, a gratifying balance of pain and pleasure. She felt whole for the first time in her life. Pressing her hot forehead against the cold pole, she slid her palms up and down the smooth metal, warm tears bathing her eyes, her climax surging softly through her.
She heard Lyles move behind her. He slid the tips of his fingers across her stinging buttocks. She could only imagine what they looked like. Reddened, with thin strips of a darker red against her skin.
“Beautiful. So very beautiful." He pressed his body along her back, his groin firmly cupping her throbbing ass. She felt his thick erection through the fabric of his slacks. He moved his mouth next to her ear. “It was your employer. Not you."
“What?” She could barely speak.
Lyles slid his hands up to her blouse and ripped it apart. The very expensive silk blouse he had bought for her. Some of the buttons clattered to the floor. He shoved his hands inside and cupped her breasts. He jerked the bra down and rasped his thumbs across her engorged nipples.
“I didn't choose your firm because of your employer. I didn't like him.”
Helen’s pulse raced even as she managed a shaky laugh. “I don't like him either.”
Lyles sharply pinched her nipples, pulling and tugging at them with his long, insistent fingers. Pain radiated from her breasts and burrowed down to her cunt.
She moaned deep in her chest as the blood surged through her veins. He knew exactly how to touch her. It was as if he was a mind reader and had access to all her most passionate fantasies and lustful dreams. She pressed her breasts against his hands.
He gripped them harder. “If you don’t like him then resign. You're far too talented to work for the likes of him. Design my house. Work for me.”
Helen could only nod, the blood pounding dizzily in her head. At that moment she would have done anything he asked of her. But to be asked to do something she loved required no long reflection on her part.
His hands still gripping her breasts, he pulled her against him, the softness of his slacks, the hardness of his cock, chafing the raw, tender skin of her buttocks.
Her breath caught in her throat from the burning sensation that radiated from her ass. “How...how did you know?” she asked.
“How did I know what, Helen?”
“That I...wanted, no, needed this.”
He laughed, and his laughter rumbled against her back. “How could I not?”
Yes, how could he have not known. Just as she had sensed in the conference room what kind of man he was, dominant and powerful and commanding, he had sensed the kind of woman she was and what it was she needed.
He moved one hand away from her breast. Then she heard the sizzling sound of pants being unzipped. He cupped her buttocks, his fingers pulling at her thong and jerking it down her ass. It slithered off her legs and onto the floor.
She was open to him now. Her pussy waiting to be filled. Or her ass. She wouldn’t have minded him fucking her in her ass. Not at all.
The warm, moist head of his cock pressed between her thighs. She adjusted her hips, felt his erection aggressively enter her cunt. She moaned and gripped the pole. He began thrusting inside her, filling her completely, his hard movements pressing her clit against the cool hardness of the pole. He put his other hand back on her breasts and gripped them both as he violently fucked her, the sensation as painful and pleasurable as his whipping of her ass with the tawse.
Helen’s body rocked against the pole, her head thrown back against his shoulder, her breath rasping in her chest. She moaned, as every inch of Lyle’s thick, hot cock slid in and out of her pussy. She rejoiced in the wicked, scorching, heaving feeling of him pounding mercilessly inside her
, possessing her, owning her, making her his.
“Does it feel good, Helen?” he whispered against her ear, his breath harsh.
“Yes, oh, yes.” The tender lips of her pussy were stretched wide around his swollen cock and she was trapped between him and the pole to which she desperately clung.
“Pledge yourself to me and I promise you even more delights in the coming months. Nights of the darkest, deepest pleasure limited only by my imagination and your endurance. Do you want that, Helen?”
Did she want it? Hadn’t she dreamed about having a man do such things to her for so long that it had become something she’d never hoped to enjoy? Something to dream about, to long for, to even fantasize about but never, ever experience.
“Yes, I want it,” she said. “I want it more than anything.”
His cock surged inside her, tunneling so deep that it felt as if he were battering its head against the entrance to her womb. His groin briskly rubbed against the ravaged skin of her ass, but the pain only headed to her mounting pleasure. She was going to come.
“You must be absolutely sure, Helen. The things I want to do to you, to your body....you must be absolutely certain. I will become your master and you will be my slave. Do you understand what that means?”
She wasn’t exactly sure, but she wanted to find out. She told him that.
He chuckled against her ear. “You will definitely find out what it means to be my slave. I can be an understanding master. Even a kind one, but once you agree to be mine, you must do whatever I ask whenever I ask. Without hesitation. You can always leave, but once you agree to be mine, you must obey. Do you understand?”
She nodded, her throat tight. She had never been able to explain, even to herself, this need to completely surrender herself to someone. But Lyles, she suspected, would not only be able and willing to explain herself to herself, he would give her what she craved and more.
“You do not have to decide tonight. But make it soon, Helen. I don’t know how long I can stand not having you the way I want you.”
He squeezed her breasts, his cock steadily beating inside her wet, throbbing cunt. Her orgasm was only a few shuddering breaths away. The muscles of her pussy began to clench around his cock. She gripped the pole so hard it hurt. Her climax ripped through her, black and hot, pulsating wave after pulsating wave. She moaned, the sound vibrating through her chest. She thrust her hips backward, driving his cock deeper inside her.
