Fire After Dark

by Sadie Matthews

  Have I gone too far? A kind of fear mixed with excitement races through me. What now?

  The answer takes a while to come, and unexpectedly, the object inside me whirrs into life and begins to pulse within me. Oh, that’s good. That’s very good.

  It’s a deeply sexy feeling, as the shaft pulses and throbs, the little outcrop whirring against my clitoris. Without sight or sound, it is almost as though I can hear it as deep in my chest as a cat’s purr. I am staying still and letting the sensations flood outwards from the vibrator but any moment now, it will begin to be too strong for me. I will have to move, and even if I don’t, I will end up coming, I’m sure of it. I grit myself to stay still and obey the orders I’ve been given.

  Then, without any apparent outward force, the vibrator changes speed, increasing its pace and also its activity. It begins to rub and pulse inside me as though a small hard ball is moving up and down against the wall of my vagina, stimulating me in a way I’ve never known before.

  Oh God, it’s glorious. I don’t know if I can stop myself coming.

  The little outcrop is now thrusting itself against my clitoris with unbearable pressure, without a pause or a change in tempo, making me begin to ascend the heights towards a crashing climax.

  Stop it, I can’t think . . .

  My brain is in a whirl, blackness scattered with coloured stars filling my mind. Before I can stop myself I’ve begun to thrust my hips upwards to meet the beautiful rhythm inside me and I hear, as though from far away, my voice sounding in my throat. I’m screaming, I realise in my black daze.

  Suddenly the pulsing stops. With a rough movement, the vibrator is taken from my body. I’m bereft, I’m desperate, I’m shuddering with the power of the orgasm waiting to give me the release I crave.

  Then the earplugs are gone and I can hear myself panting hard in the real world.

  ‘You naughty girl. You moved. You screamed. You wanted to come, didn’t you?’

  ‘Y-y-yes,’ I manage to say.

  ‘Yes, what?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ I whisper.

  ‘You are a wicked, voluptuous girl with a hungry, gluttonous, pleasure-seeking body that must be punished.’ I can hear the pleasure in his voice as he unbuckles the cuffs at my hands and feet. He leaves my blindfold on. I’m disoriented, as though I’ve suddenly found myself back in a place I thought I’d left.

  His hand lands on my arm. ‘Get up. Come with me.’

  I follow his lead and move myself off the bed. My limbs are like jelly, hardly able to hold me up. He guides me across the room and I follow blindly, not even sure which way I’m facing. Then he puts my hands down on a smooth, sloping leather surface. I know where we are now. We’re at the leather seat, the strange white object with the low footrest and the leather reins.

  What’s going to happen now?

  I ought to be scared but I’m not. He is touching me gently, helping me in my blindness, and I trust that he knows what I can take, how far he can go. His anger with me is a fantasy, designed to bring us closer and take us to delicious, forbidden places. Safe in that knowledge, I shiver with apprehension of what is to come.

  Dominic places me on the seat so that I’m straddling it, facing the long reclining back with my back open to him, my wet sex pressed against the chair. Within a few moments he has tethered my wrists to something behind the frame so that I’m almost embracing the seat’s smooth surface like a lover. The tops of my stockings graze against my thighs where they meet the edge of the chair. He is busy with the straps of my harness for a moment and then he pulls them away so that they hang down, leaving my back clear and naked.

  ‘Oh, my darling,’ he breathes. ‘I wish I didn’t have to hurt you, but when you’ve disobeyed me so flagrantly, I have no other option.’

  I hear him walk back to the bedside and return. There is a long moment, while I wait, hardly able to breathe, and then I feel the first slow tickle of the many-tailed whip.

  It doesn’t hurt at all. If anything, its teasing is a pleasant, sweet play on my already sensitive skin. It sweeps over me, the tendrils making a figure of eight, moving so fluidly that I think of seaweed wafting in an underwater current. I begin to relax, my fear ebbs a little. Then the figure of eight stops and it flicks down me, still so soft and with hardly a sting. Flick, flick, flick. The feeling is almost invigorating as my skin tingles beneath the little nips of those soft suede tails. I prickle as the blood rushes up to the surface of the skin.

  ‘You’re turning rosy,’ Dominic murmurs. ‘You’re answering the kiss of the whip.’

  I can’t help flexing my back little, stretching, as the whip comes down a little harder. It bites just a little more into my skin, but we’re very far from anything I would describe as real pain. I find it strange to admit to myself, but I like this sensation, the feeling of my back exposed, the swoop and flick of the tails stimulating my nerve endings, my groin pressed hard against the velvety smoothness of the leather. Perhaps it is because everything in me is still burning and throbbing from my recent near climax. A vision pops into my head: I recall the man in Dominic’s apartment, the one who was spanked over a chair very like this. I remember my horror, my bafflement, at such a thing. And here I am, thrilling to my very own taste of punishment.

  Now the whip is coming down in sharper movements, sweeping first to one side of my back, then the other. It’s beginning to sting now and for the first time when one hard stroke hits me, sending a million tiny bites all over my skin, I gasp out loud. The sound brings another, harder stroke. I clench my thighs as it hits, gasp again and feel myself pressing into the seat, rubbing my engorged clitoris and puffed sex hard onto it. My skin is beginning to feel fiery hot, and where the tails are striking me is tender, stinging, hurting. Each blow is now making me pull in a sharp breath and release it on an ‘Ah!’.

  ‘Six more for you, Beth,’ Dominic says, and he lands the half dozen, each one a little gentler than the rest as though he is working me down. My back is alive with red-hot pain, stinging all over, but God, I’m excited and ready for something to drive me to ecstasy.

  ‘Now,’ he says. ‘Your naughty bottom.’

  I don’t know what he means until, sharply and unexpectedly, a hard blow from the riding crop lands on my exposed cheeks. Now that hurts, horribly.

  ‘Ahhh!’ I scream. ‘Ow!’

  It’s like red-hot metal has been pressed to my skin. My whole body vibrates with a sick feeling as the pain radiates out. Then, to my horror, another blow comes down. I scream again. This is not like the gentle tender touch of the suede whip, this is real pain, thwacking down across my bottom, burning, hurting. I cannot, I will not take much of this.

  Then it stops and Dominic says tenderly, ‘You’ve taken your punishment well. You’ll remember not to come without permission next time, won’t you? Now, you’d better kiss the rod. But not with your mouth.’

  I feel its thick leather handle probe my sex. Dominic runs it up towards my bottom, stopping again at the entrance and pushing it just a little harder into that other place. I gasp. Then the handle is gone. My wrists are being untethered, my blindfold is taken off. Dominic puts his strong hands round my waist and turns me round to face him. He’s naked, his huge length rearing proudly up, almost pressed against his stomach in its arousal. I have no idea when he took his clothes off but I suppose it could have been any time that I was cut off from the world. His eyes are a denser black than I’ve seen, as though the whipping has taken him to a different plane.

  I’m reclining on the seat, the leather cooling against my burning back. ‘Now I’m going to kiss you,’ he says. He lifts my legs and I notice for the first time that there are slender stirrups extending from the lowest part of the chair. He puts a leg into each one so that I’m open to him. Then he kneels on the footrest, his face at the same level as my crotch. He inhales deeply.

  ‘You smell divine,’ he murmurs. Then he leans forward, his arms wrapped round my thighs and nuzzles into my pubic hair.

&nbs
p; I gasp. It’s electric, pulses of pleasure throbbing through my body.

  His tongue flicks across the top of my clitoris. Oh. Oh . . .

  I have no words, I can do nothing but respond with my body. I know that I will not be able to stop myself no matter what my orders are. His tongue is lapping at me, licking long slow strokes across my entrance and up to that most sensitive place where he tickles unbearably with the tip of his tongue. The golden, liquid electricity flows through me, shaking my limbs, stiffening me, and I know it’s coming. Then he takes the whole of my bud in his mouth and sucks hard on it, pressing his tongue down, licking, tantalising and . . .

  Oh I . . . I can’t . . .I . . .!

  My fists are clenched, my eyes screwed tight, my mouth open, my back arching.

  I’ve got to do this, I can’t wait, I . . .

  The orgasm explodes around me as though I’m in the middle of a giant firework. I do not know who I am or what is happening, only that bliss is flowing through in great heartbeats of ecstasy.

  Even while I’m pulsing, I feel Dominic’s huge penis pressing at my lips, then he’s filled me up so that he can feel the last of my convulsions around his shaft. He’s holding on the armrests of the chair, using them to pull himself deeply into me. He’s darkly aroused, his face flushed, his eyes glazed. He says nothing but lets his weight fall forward on me and kisses me hard as the torrent of his orgasm is finally released.

  He lies on me panting for a while, his cheek pressed against the leather of the chair. Then he runs his hand over my body, turns and kisses the side of my face.

  ‘You’ve done so well,’ he whispers.

  I thrill to hear him say it. I want to please him, I want to earn his love.

  ‘I found the riding crop very difficult,’ I reply humbly. ‘I didn’t like the pain.’

  ‘You’re not supposed to like it,’ he says, pulling out of me and standing up. ‘But you get your reward afterwards. Don’t you feel better?’

  I look at him. He’s right, I feel an extraordinary sense of satisfaction, of post-orgasmic languor. But . . . I’m not sure that it’s enough. I gaze at him, aware that my collar is still around my neck and we are still in the boudoir. I do not know if I’m permitted to say that I long for him to be sweet and tender with me. I am fascinated and aroused by Dominic the master, but I want my other Dominic too, the one who was the sweetest lover I can imagine. That Dominic held me in his arms and caressed me. I need that now, in the aftermath of his strictness and the punishment he’s meted out to me, more than ever.

  Please. I try to send the message with my eyes. Please, Dominic. Come back to me. Love me.

  But he’s already looking for something to dry himself with, and he walks away from me. I have a view of his magnificent broad back and his firm bottom and strong thighs, which only serves to make me long for him more desperately. I want to run my hands over that skin, receive reassurance from his body and the way his strength can be used to comfort me as well as hurt.

  ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ he says, turning and smiling. ‘And I want you to sleep well tonight. You’ll need all your strength tomorrow.’

  He turns back and continues preparing to get dressed. He is still in the room but, as I lie on the chair, watching, I feel as though he has left me already.

  Saturday

  In the morning, I look at my reflection in the mirror. There isn’t a mark on my back –Dominic must know exactly what he is doing with the whip – but across my bottom I can see two faint red stripes where the riding crop hit me. I suspected they would be there, I’ve always bruised and marked easily.

  There is no pain but I run a bath and soak for a long time, easing my muscles which feel stretched and tired from being held in position by the cuffs. As I lie in the scented water in the silent apartment, I wonder why my body is fine but my heart feels sore. It should be the other way around: I have what I wanted, after all. Dominic is doing as he promised, and taking me down the path, as deep into his world as I’m willing to go. He is giving me ecstatic pleasure every day and taking his own with me.

  So why am I crying? I wonder, as tears begin to well up and flow down my cheeks.

  Because I’m lonely.

  Because I don’t know this Dominic, the one who orders me around and beats me.

  But you asked him to do it, I remind myself. He didn’t want to and you forced the issue. You can’t regret it now and you can’t back out.

  I don’t want to back out, I’m sure of that. But when I made the agreement, I didn’t realise that this Dominic would replace the one I knew and loved. I realise that I miss the tenderness and affection that we used to share. The things that happen to me in the boudoir, when I put on that collar and signal my obedience, may bring me exquisite sensation but they also have the capacity to humiliate and degrade me. When I allow myself to be treated as a naughty girl who needs punishing, a part of me is ashamed that I can abase myself like this.

  I need Dominic to tell me that he still loves and respects me, and that in the outside world, I’m still the Beth he treasures and values.

  But I never see him in the outside world! Not any more.

  Today is the last day of our agreement. I have no idea what will happen next. But before then, there is whatever test Dominic has planned for me. I want to feel excited but there is a cold emptiness inside me.

  Of all the ways I thought I’d feel about Dominic, I never suspected I might feel nothing.

  I get dressed and do some chores around Celia’s flat, restoring it to its usual pristine state. Even though it now feels like home, I can never shake the knowledge that it belongs to Celia first and foremost. I’m checking my mobile for a text from Dominic when there is a knock at the door.

  I open, expecting to see him standing there, but it is the porter. ‘Hello, miss,’ he says and holds out a large package sealed in brown paper. ‘I’ve been asked to deliver this. It’s urgent, apparently.’

  I take it from him. ‘Thank you.’

  He looks at it, curious. ‘Is it your birthday?’

  ‘No,’ I reply with a smile. ‘Just some things from home, I expect.’

  When he’s gone, I kneel on the marble tiles of the hall and rip off the outer wrapping. Inside is a black box tied in soft black satin ribbon, a cream envelope tucked into it. I take the envelope, open it and extract the letter.

  You are required to rest this morning. Your lunch will be delivered at midday and you must eat all of it by 1p. m. At 2 pm you are permitted to open this box. Further instructions await you inside.

  Each letter, I realise, is more controlling than the last. Each has dictated just a little more of my actions, going beyond my sexual being and into my life as an autonomous person.

  Today, even when I’m not with him, Dominic is dictating what will happen to me. And he knows that I will obey him. I have the sense that he knows exactly what I do, as though his gaze can extend beyond the sitting room and into the entire flat.

  I wouldn’t put it past him to have the place wired up, and secret cameras installed.

  The thought is an extraordinary one, and as soon it enters my head, I dismiss it. And yet, the idea that this new Dominic might be capable of such things stays with me.

  I stare at the black box, wondering what lies inside it.

  ‘Oh well,’ I say, ‘there’s no point in dwelling. I’m not going to open it until two o’clock. For all I know, he might have some kind of timer in there that will tell him when the lid is lifted.’

  And I don’t want to give him excuses to punish me. After all, today is the day when we will go furthest.

  At the thought, a kind of cold excitement grips me. For the first time I can taste real fear inside my desire for Dominic.

  Obeying my instructions, I have a quiet, restful morning. My mother phones me to see how I am and even though I think I sound perfectly normal, she picks up at once that I’m not myself.

  ‘Are you ill?’ she asks, worry in her voice.

&nb
sp; ‘No, Mum. Just tired. I’ve had a long week. London life does take it of out you, I find.’ Along with all the sex.

  ‘I can tell you’re down. Be honest. Is it Adam?’

  ‘Adam?’ I sound genuinely surprised. I haven’t given him a thought in days. ‘No, no, not at all. London has been the perfect cure as far as that’s concerned.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’ Mum sounds relieved. ‘I always thought you could do better, Beth, but I didn’t want to say so when you so obviously loved him. He was perfectly fine as a first boyfriend but I’m glad you’ll have the chance to spread your wings. You need a more worthy man than him, someone to expand your interests, broaden your experience and share your zest for life. I want my Beth to have the best man in the world to love her.’

  I can’t speak. My throat has closed around a hard object blocking it, and hot tears have sprung to my eyes. They begin to drop down my cheeks and I can’t stop a stifled sob.

  ‘Beth?’

  I try to speak but it comes out as another sob.

  ‘What is it?’ she cries. ‘What’s wrong, baby?’

  I wipe my eyes and manage to damp down my sobs enough to speak. ‘Oh, Mum. Nothing’s wrong, really. I’m just a little homesick.’