by Ashe Barker
Dan lifts one eyebrow as he pulls the lid off the plastic container. “Go ahead.”
“The day I brought the badger to the zoo, you said you wanted to spank me. Do you always say things like that to perfect strangers?”
Dan puts the butter down and fixes his undivided attention on me. “As I recall, I offered to spank you, I agree the difference is subtle, but it’s there even so.”
“Why? Why did you say that? How did you know?”
“Know what? That you were a submissive and would respond to it?”
“I suppose so. Because I wasn’t, not then. I mean, if I was, I didn’t know.”
“I knew. The clues were there. You called me sir without thinking, you kept lowering your eyes every time I looked directly at you or asked you a question. Your whole demeanor screamed submissive. It was instinctive, and so was my reaction. Your response to my offer clinched it.”
“I turned you down flat!”
“So you did. But you still let me kiss you at the gate.”
“I didn’t let you. You just—did it.”
Dan’s grin is nothing short of lecherous. “You could have stopped me. You did stop me—eventually.”
I nod. “Then you apologized. And you asked me to dinner.”
“And again, you turned me down flat.”
“I wish I hadn’t.”
“Oh? You weren’t entirely repulsed by my suggestions then? The spanking I mean, not dinner.”
I shake my head. “I was shocked. Stunned. As for the dinner invitation, when I thought about it afterwards, I wasn’t sure you were even serious. I mean, you could have had dinner with anyone you wanted.” I didn’t intend to tell him that, but somehow the words just slipped out. It’s true though. Over the years since I’d often wondered what might have happened if I’d been able to find the courage to accept an invitation from a handsome vet. To take a risk. I never forgot him, though, my road not taken.
“I wanted you.”
“You wanted to spank me. That terrified me back then.”
“Not now?”
“No.” I hesitate for a moment, then, “For ages after, I wished I’d gone to dinner with you.”
He smiles at me, lifts his hand to cup my cheek. “Me too. But it’s turned out okay. Dinner would have been nice, but if I had to choose, I’m even more pleased we’re having breakfast together.”
Dan winks at me. “And speaking of which, will cereals and toast suit you? Then a long soak in my brother’s bubble bath. You’ll like that. And if you’re still stiff after the Jacuzzi you get one of my patented massages. Never fails to loosen up aching submissives.”
The massage does sound rather nice. The Jacuzzi too. But how does he know I’m feeling the effects of yesterday? I thought I was hiding it quite well. I’m keen not to appear soft or feeble, though I’m not entirely sure why. I suppose because somewhere deep in my subconscious—where in my experience the most damage gets done—I have the notion that a fragile sub is not a lot of use to a tough Dom who enjoys his sport. A Dom like Daniel Riche. And I want to be of use, ergo, play down the aches and pains.
Dan’s not fooled for a moment. He finishes his coffee and sticks a couple of slices of bread in the toaster. “Cornflakes or shredded wheat? I think my dear, health conscious brother might have some muesli in here somewhere…” He produces a bag of something strongly resembling birdseed from one of the cupboards, waggles it at me. I decline politely and select the cornflakes.
A bowl of cereals each, several slices of toast and two coffee refills later Dan heads off into the bathroom to fill the tub. I help myself to his racing paper and go to sit out on the rooftop decking beyond the picture windows. It’s October, and getting chilly, but still pleasant enough to sit outside for a few minutes. I’m astonished to find two life-size models of sheep out there, grazing peacefully on Nathan Darke’s fake grass. Quirky or what?
I leaf through the paper, not really that interested in racing statistics and form if I’m honest. I’m more taken with the view of Clarence Dock and the surrounding Leeds cityscape. Miles and miles of close packed rooftops, a lot of high rise buildings poking their heads up against the skyline, some open space, and as I raise my gaze to the farther horizons I can see the misty hills in the distance. Even here, the moors are in sight. I stay there, leaning on the parapet, wishing I had some binoculars and a map to pick out landmarks. Maybe another time…
I begin to shiver in the cool autumn morning so I head back inside. Dan is just emerging from the bathroom.
“There you are. Your bath’s ready, madam.”
“Why, thank you, Sir.” I smile as I pass him, then gasp as I see the massive indoor swimming pool that passes for a bath in Nathan’s apartment. It’s made of wood, very dark wood, and looks deep enough to drown in. There are steps leading up the side. Open-mouthed, I go to peer over the rim. There’s about three feet of steaming, scented water in there, coated with an enticing froth of bubbles. Seating is built in to the structure at various heights. It’s quite wonderful. I turn to Dan, who is leaning in the doorway watching me explore. He’s clearly amused.
“Anyone would think you’d never seen a bath before.”
“I’ve never seen one like that. What’s it made of?”
“I think Nathan said it was teak. Very warm. Drop the robe, Summer. Time to get in.”
“Are you joining me?”
“Of course.” He drops his sweatpants and, totally naked, strolls nonchalantly past me to bop up the steps and into the tub. He sinks into it, and lifts a hand to beckon me to join him.
It’s just a gesture, not threatening exactly, but I feel a definite compulsion to obey and to do it fast. Not that I’m in the least reluctant—that water looks heavenly.
Moments later my robe is on the shiny black tiled floor along with Dan’s pants, and I’m lowering myself into the bubbles. Dan stretches out an arm to help me negotiate the steps, then reaches out to flick the switch which activates the Jacuzzi jets. I lie back, my shoulders against Dan’s chest and allow my feet to drift to the surface.
“This is lovely. Even better than at the club.” I turn my head to smile up at him.
“Mmm, maybe you’re just less tense. Less scared now?”
“Yes. I suppose.” I think back to that night, my initiation into the world of kink. I was scared. I didn’t trust Dan, or myself. I recognize now that I was looking for something different, some new way of being that was comfortable and safe and normal. At the same time I was terrified of change. I could feel the sands shifting under me that night, all my pre-conceived certainties wobbling perilously. I may have felt that my life was utter shite a lot of the time, but there’s a lot to be said for the devil you know. The Summer Jones who ran scared from the Collared and Tied club and fled to Bristol would never have left a used condom on the bedroom floor all night.
I like today’s Summer more, or I could get to like her. And I have Dan to thank for releasing her from wherever she was hiding. Was that all it took to beat the compulsions out of me? Six strokes with a belt and a butt plug up my arse?
Not quite that simple, I do realize. But I’m more relaxed, more confident in this moment than I remember feeling for a long, long time. Maybe forever.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Dan’s voice is quiet, little more than a soft murmur. He runs his hands up and down my arms, holding me safely so I have no need to worry about sinking. I trust him absolutely. But that doesn’t mean I have ready answers for him. I don’t fully understand myself so I can’t explain to him what’s different. Especially as he never really knew me before.
“No burning urge to fold up the towels or arrange the soap in color order.”
Or didn’t he?
“What do you mean?” I stiffen in his arms.
He hauls me back against his chest and this time lays his hands over my breasts, massaging the small mounds slowly. It’s sensual, but oddly, not overtly sexual. More a caring, soothing gesture than one intended
to arouse. Nevertheless, my pussy clenches. Dan’s gentle, undemanding caress has the desired effect, though, and I’m soon drifting lazily, my body and mind now floating on the scented, swirling water.
“I noticed you lining up the coasters, that first night, in the bar. You were so uptight, like a spring about to snap. I think a spanking was just what you needed. You responded well to it.”
“Yes.” He’s right. No point denying it. Or overanalyzing.
“And again yesterday. You tidied my bathroom cabinet. And that bag of yours—talk about military precision.”
Ah, he did notice the bathroom then.
“If you hadn’t been so obliging and earned those six strokes with my belt, I’d have had to spank you again any way. To loosen you up. So, was that good?”
I consider for a moment, then, “It was, Sir. Very good. I’d never imagined…” My voice trails away. I’m not sure what I’m trying to say. For once, Dan doesn’t prompt me. He waits, patient. At last I find the words.
“I’d never imagined that hurting could feel good. Especially afterwards, but not just then. The pain was sort of, sort of cleansing, driving the shame away and making me into a clean sheet. And the things you said later, about moving on. I could. I really could. I did.”
“I’m pleased. And can I say, sweet Summer Jones, while we’re being so honest with each other that your submission last night totally blew me away. You were superb, a natural. My cock’s twitching now just thinking about your gorgeous wet pussy after you’d accepted my belt, and you were even more wet and hot when the plug went in. I know you hated that, well at first you did anyway, maybe not so much by the time we’d finished. But you let me do it, my fingers first, then the plug. You just totally surrendered and let me do anything I wanted to you.” He pauses, then, “Will you let me fuck your arse, Summer?”
No hesitation this time, my answer is instant, “Yes, Sir. Of course. I’d like that.”
“Okay. So, we need to be back at Black Combe tomorrow, by one o’clock for the board meeting. Or I do. I assume you’re not going back to Cumbria just yet?” He pauses.
I shake my head.
“Good. No other pressing engagements?”
Again I shake my head.
“No, Sir. None.”
“That gives us the next twenty-four hours to enjoy each other, to explore your limits a bit more, maybe push them back further? Would you like that do you think? Would you stay here with me for the next twenty-four hours and turn your body over to me?”
“Will it hurt?” Silly question.
He chuckles. He obviously thinks it’s a silly question too, but he answers anyway, “Oh yes. Some of the time. A lot of the time. But in a good way, like before. I intend to make you squeal. Will you squeal for me, little Summer of the three swallows?”
“I expect I will, Sir.” I draw a deep breath, thinking about what it means to be hurting in a good way. My butt clenches instinctively but my response is certain. “Yes, Sir, I would like to stay here with you. And squeal.”
“Excellent. First, though, we need more food. I suggest a Wetherspoon’s brunch. You up for that?”
Now this I hadn’t expected. I’d thought to find myself strapped to that cross in the bedroom before the last of the scented bubbles swirled down the plughole, so Dan’s sudden change of tack is unnerving. But encouraging too. It’s not all about the sex then. Not all about squealing. Not quite.
Chapter Four
In the end we decide against Wetherspoon’s. Dan left me in the bath to enjoy a last soak on my own while he got dressed and finished his perusal of yesterday’s racing news. By the time I eventually joined him in the living room he’d remembered a small, independent coffee shop in the ground floor of a mill conversion about ten minutes’ walk away—one of Nathan’s designs I gather—which he tells me does a fabulous Spanish omelet. Good enough for me. We descend in the lift, my face flaming as I recall vividly what happened in this same lift on our way up. Dan just smiles and pats my bottom.
“Later, sweetheart.”
He winks at me, and I’m convinced my face is about to spontaneously combust. Who’d have imagined I could still feel embarrassed?
Who would imagine I could be embarrassed at all, particularly given the way I lost my virginity? Or rather, after I let my mother sell it.
I stumble slightly as we exit the large glass doors to the outside, and Dan catches my elbow to steady me. I study my feet as we walk, shocked at my sudden recollection. I usually manage to bury that memory, all those memories. I never think of that time, in Barrow, back at my mother’s house. Well, almost never. It’s banished as though it never happened. But there’s something about being with Dan, some irresistible internal force that reawakens and resurrects those remembered images, forcing them back to the surface. Or would, if I let it.
I viciously suppress the recollection, and the sensations it evokes. I quash the shame and despair, as vivid now, today, as they were then. Even as I stroll along this dock in the pleasant autumn sunshine with a gorgeous man at my elbow, those feelings are as powerful as they were when I was sixteen. Back then I was just a defenseless pawn caught up in my mother’s desperate games of survival. I tell myself it wasn’t really her fault either, it was just how it was. For us, for her. Then. Not now, and not for me. I moved on. It’s gone. It needs to stay gone.
“Are you alright? Not having second thoughts are you?” Dan sounds concerned.
I turn to look at him, puzzled.
“Something’s upset you. You look really…distressed. Is it something I did?”
“No. No! I was just— It’s nothing. Really.”
“If you get scared, you’ve only to say. Your safe words are just that, they will keep you safe. And I’ll push you, but never too far. You can trust me.”
“I know.” I stop, turn to face him. I need to make him understand that I do want this—this whatever it is we’re doing. “I do know that. Really. I’m just being silly.” On impulse I push up onto my toes and kiss his lips, the first time I’ve done so without being prompted.
If he’s surprised he hides it well, enfolding me in his arms to deepen the kiss, his tongue spearing into my mouth to engage with mine. We snog like teenagers, oblivious to other Sunday morning strollers and anglers. Dan is first to break the kiss.
“My, my, Miss Jones. You do help me to work up an appetite, but delicious though you are I have my heart set on a cheese and ham toastie.”
“What about the omelet?”
“A man’s Sunday brunch is his own affair, Miss Jones. Now come on, before they run out of eggs.”
* * * *
“Do you remember that night, when we met? The second time, I mean. In Lancaster.”
“Vividly.” He stirs his coffee slowly, his eyes on me. No doubt wondering where this is leading. I’m not entirely sure myself, but plow on regardless.
“The couples we saw. Watched. In the dungeon.”
“Yes.” He sips, regarding me over the rim of his cup. He offers no additional encouragement.
“I noticed that most of the women, well, all of them pretty much, seemed to have shaved their…” I know my face is flushing, though Christ only knows why. I really should be beyond embarrassment by now. My words fall away.
“Removed their pubic hair, yes. That’s good grooming. Among submissives.” Dan has to help me out after all. How kind.
“I see. Is it…common?”
“Yes, very. Most Dom’s like it. Insist on it. Especially for their regular subs. It gives a whole new meaning to ‘naked’, sort of takes it up a notch.”
“Do you like it?” I ask the question, but drop my gaze immediately. I’m getting into dangerous territory here. This could end badly, with me being hurt. Or humiliated. Or both. But it would appear my rampant curiosity knows no boundaries and my common sense was swilled down the plughole when I emptied the Jacuzzi.
“I do.” His voice is soft, very quiet.
“Yet, you haven’t asked m
e to shave myself.” I’m muttering into my coffee now.
“Your hands are usually shaking so much, I’d be worried you might do irreparable damage.”
His gentle humor is lost on me, sadly. I stare at my hands, and lo and behold they are shaking. I twist my fingers together in a vain attempt to restore order. Dan watches me for a few moments, then, “Look at me, Summer. Please.”
I lift my gaze. His eyes are warm, that deep brandy richness glinting. My nervous stomach settles. Slightly. And my hands lie unmoving in my lap.
“And, you’re not my regular sub.”
He delivers the final killer line softly, and my stomach abandons its brief flirtation with anything resembling a settled state. Oh God, why did I even start this?
Suddenly a horrific thought strikes me. Christ, what if…?
“Do you have one? A regular sub, I mean?” I blurt out the question, staring at him, willing him to say no. This matters to me, really matters. I’ve no idea what I’ll do if the answer is yes. It’s rather late in the day to be raising this now, but it genuinely never occurred to me before.
Dan shakes his head, smiling kindly at me. And puts me out of my misery immediately. “No, Summer, I don’t. Not at the moment.” There’s a brief pause before he smiles at me. “There’s a vacancy, though, and I’m hoping you might consider the job.”
“Me? You want me?” I can’t keep the incredulous edge from my voice, my palm now splayed across the top of my chest to emphasize who we’re talking about here. Me. Summer Jones. Skinny, uptight, plain and boring Summer Jones.
“Yes you.”
“Me?” No harm in checking. Checking’s good. “For more than just the twenty-four hours we said.”
“You. And yes, more than just the twenty-four hours. I was intending to leave it until tomorrow before suggesting an extension. I thought I’d let you get used to my funny little ways a bit more, but since the issue has come up. Well?”
He looks amused now, leaning back in his chair to sip his coffee calmly while I continue to stare at him in disbelief.
