by Jasmine Hill
Her lashes were administered carefully and intended not to draw blood, but the whip still left red marks where it connected with his skin and she knew through experience that it could be painful. As a Dominatrix she underwent training and BDSM initiation that involved being on the receiving end of various instruments of punishment—so she understood the physical effects of being whipped.
“How many, Mr X? I think we shall start with sixteen. You committed a lot of misdemeanours during your last session—now you must be punished.”
She cracked the whip once for effect before she sent it whistling through the air once more to connect with his back. She had administered twelve lashes, counting as she went and careful to spread the blows evenly, before she stopped. His back was now criss-crossed with angry red welts but he was very quiet. Unlike her usual clients who seemed to take just as much pleasure in writhing and moaning as from the actual whipping, Mr X had been curiously calm. But for an occasional hiss of breath he had remained largely silent.
“What is the safe word, Mr X?” she asked in concern.
When she received no response she swiftly unshackled his ankles then one of his wrists and had just unloosed the other when she felt firm hands grab hold of both her arms. Startled, she was unable to react before he spun her around to face him and before she could resist she found her wrists shackled. Quickly regaining her senses she tried to kick out with one leg but he pre-empted her and shackled both her ankles so that she was now pinioned facing him, star-shaped against the dungeon wall in his place.
Her heart rate quickened in alarm. He must have seen the apprehension in her eyes because he said calmly, “Relax, Mistress, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” she responded angrily while she looked longingly at the panic button located on the far wall.
He followed her gaze and said with a chuckle, “Just having a little fun, no need to panic. I will untie you immediately. You only have to ask me.”
She thought about her position—she really didn’t believe that he would hurt her but being restrained made her a little nervous—it had been a long while since she had been in a submissive role. She would play along with him for a short while, she was still the Dominant and only had to say the safe word to be released. Also, he was the customer and apparently paying a lot of money for her services so provided that he remained within Fantasy rules and her own comfort zone she would allow him the lead—for the time being.
She said nothing, just watched warily as Mr X picked up the whip. He is just trying to scare me, I won’t panic.
“Of course, I can’t mar that perfect body of yours,” he said as he ran the whip handle down her left cheek. “That would be sacrilege and I have no wish to hurt you,” he continued, running the handle farther down to nestle in her cleavage. She felt her heart rate beating erratically against her ribcage. She was absolutely powerless to do anything and whilst she understood that he was deliberately taunting her, the ambiguity regarding his intentions was unnerving.
“I’ve been thinking about you, Kitty cat,” he murmured huskily as he bent his head to her ear. “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.”
His soft breath against her ear made her nipples harden and he watched as they strained against the gauzy fabric of her bodice.
“Do your nipples harden this way for every man?” he asked, his voice low and challenging in her ear. “Or is it this that you like?” he said, blowing a soft puff of air against her ear, making her nipples strain further.
“It’s just chilly in here,” she murmured.
His mouth turned up in a slow, lazy smile. “Of course it is,” he concurred with a chuckle. “Do you have any idea how hot you look right now, bound and at my mercy? It’s all I can do to stop myself from ravishing you.”
She thought he looked pretty hot himself as he paced in front of her, all bronze muscles and tight black leather pants that hugged his delectable butt. When he turned she could see the vivid red marks that her whip had left on his back, giving him a dangerous quality. His black mask added to the sinister look and she shivered in sudden apprehension.
“What are you planning to do with me now?” she asked.
He stopped pacing and ran a finger softly down her cheek. “I know what I want to do with you,” he purred seductively, “but it’s against the rules.”
He stepped towards her and wrapped her braid around his wrist to tilt her head back so that she was looking up into his eyes. She felt an involuntary shiver rock through her at the intensity of the look he gave her. She was thankful that she was bound against the wall or her knees would have given way. Yet again, as his eyes burned into hers, she had a sudden feeling of déjà vu then just as quickly the feeling vanished.
“Is this what you like to do, Mr X? Do you enjoy tying women up and playing the Dominant whilst a woman is defenceless?” she asked, a small smile playing on her lips. “Although it doesn’t quite seem like your style,” she added.
“You’re correct, Mistress. I don’t have to resort to tying women up to have my wicked way with them. I just wanted to demonstrate to you how easy it was for me to overpower you. You have to be careful in your”—he waved a hand in the air—“profession. And besides, I quite like seeing you tied up like this,” he finished with a smirk.
“I don’t need you to demonstrate anything to me, Mr X. Now, kindly undo these bindings.”
He grinned and held her gaze a moment longer before he quickly unlatched the shackles at her wrists then stooped to unbind her ankles.
She stepped towards him, fisted her hands on her hips and fixed him with an angry glare.
“I hope you had your fun, Mr X, because I mean it when I say that this is your last session with me. I don’t care how much money you throw at Madam Boudica.”
“Come now, Kitty cat, it wasn’t that bad, was it?” he asked. “Didn’t you enjoy the unpredictability, not knowing what to expect when I turned the tables on you? Don’t you get bored with the constant domination act?” He cocked his head to one side and studied her intently. “Or perhaps these sessions of yours are more interesting for you than I think—perhaps you do break the rules sometimes with particular clients but just not with me, is that right?” His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms waiting for her to answer.
“I don’t have to answer any of your questions, Mr X. What I do here and with whom I do it is none of your concern,” she stated firmly as she walked over to the cabinet in which the aftercare creams were kept. “Come here please and turn around.”
He studied her a moment longer before joining her and doing as she requested.
She poured a liberal amount of cream onto his back before massaging it into his skin. She tried to ignore the way his hard muscles rippled under her hands as she rubbed the lotion over his shoulders and back.
“You will probably be stiff for a couple of days,” she said softly. “The welts will fade in a day or two.”
He grunted in acknowledgement. “A few welts are hardly going to concern me,” he muttered. “It was what I expected.”
She finished rubbing the lotion into his back and stepped away. “You may go now, Mr X. The session is over.”
He turned and fixed her with a long look before striding briskly out of the dungeon.
When he was gone Mistress Kitty sank to her knees. The past hour had exhausted her both mentally and physically. She longed for a hot shower and her bed and was beyond relieved to note that he had been her last client for the evening. She called Monty from her dressing room and hurried downstairs, anxious to get home.
Chapter Eight
Sarah awoke the next morning to a gloriously sunny day. Lying in bed, she looked out of the window and smiled at the thought that she would be taking advantage of the day by sailing with Maxwell.
Slipping out of bed, she headed into the bathroom for a long shower. After her shower she dried her hair and fixed it in a knot on top of her head. After donning shorts and
a light T-shirt she slipped on comfortable sandals and applied a good sunscreen.
Maxwell was due to arrive at ten. Glancing at her watch, Sarah realised that it was just past. Maxwell should arrive at any minute. At ten thirty, when he still hadn’t arrived, Sarah checked her mobile for messages then made a cup of coffee and sat on the balcony. It was strange of him to be so late and not call. Then, as if in response to her thoughts, her security system buzzed his obvious arrival. It was just past eleven a.m. She grabbed her bag and sunglasses, then made her way quickly downstairs to meet him.
“Hello, you,” Sarah greeted Maxwell warmly.
“Hi,” he replied shortly.
As Sarah went to kiss him, he turned his head so her lips brushed his cheek. Hurt by his cold greeting and lack of an apology for his tardiness, she quietly slipped into the car when he opened the door for her—shutting it a little too forcefully, she thought.
They drove to Maxwell’s house in silence, all Sarah’s attempts at conversation falling flat. She was relieved when they finally arrived and she could escape the repressive atmosphere of the car.
Sarah followed Maxwell as he made his way down the driveway and onto a private pier where a magnificent boat was berthed. She didn’t know much about boats but she could tell that this one would impress the best aficionado. It was imposingly large and had a sleek black and white hull with My Rani stencilled on the side. Sarah couldn’t help her surprised gasp as she gaped in awe at the impressive boat. Maxwell, standing beside her, chuckled at her reaction. She risked a glance at him and was relieved to see that he was finally smiling.
“She’s a Riviera 53 Enclosed Flybridge,” he said proudly. “And before you think that I am ridiculously pretentious, I use her mainly for business. Unsurprisingly, many successful business transactions have taken place on her. I also lend her out to our important clients,” he finished with a shrug and a frown as if he was unhappy with his sudden talkative turn.
“My Rani?” Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow in enquiry.
“Rani means queen in Hindi. My mother is part Indian.”
“Well, I think she is beautiful, just like a queen,” Sarah said with admiration.
As she gazed at him, his momentary good mood morphed back into a sullen one. His frown deepened and he moved away from her and stalked towards the boat to assist someone she assumed to be his deck hand prepare to get underway, checking instruments, engines and loosening lines.
“Can I help with anything?” Sarah asked brightly as she joined Maxwell on the pier.
“We’re fine for the moment, thank you. Just jump in and find a comfortable spot.”
Sarah scrambled onto the boat and fixed Maxwell with a long look. He frowned as he loosened a rope, threw it onto the deck with the others and stepped on board. He didn’t look happy and she wondered if it was something that she had done.
“Maxwell, is everything okay?” she asked. “You don’t seem yourself today.”
“I wonder that you would know how I usually am,” he responded shortly as he made his way to the helm in the flybridge.
Sarah followed behind him silently. She was confused and hurt and, making a quick decision, said, “Maxwell, just let me get off. I don’t feel like going out on the boat today, particularly when you’re in this mood. I’ll just take a taxi home.”
“Too late,” he replied as she watched the deckhand slip the last line before joining them on the boat. Soon Maxwell was throttling away from the berth and out into the harbour.
Sarah decided that all she could do was sit back and enjoy the ride. If Maxwell wanted to be in a bad mood then that was his problem. She left him at the helm and settled into a comfortable position in the spacious flybridge. Laying her head back, she closed her eyes and revelled in the feeling of the warm sun on her face. After a while she sat up and took note of her surroundings. They were quite high up, which afforded a fabulous view of the harbour. There were many boats about as the day was fantastic for sailing and boating—as they passed other vessels the passengers and crew would shout and wave in greeting, which Sarah enthusiastically returned.
An hour later she saw Maxwell go below deck and emerge with glasses and a bottle of champagne. She hoped his mood had improved, although she didn’t intend on making an apology easy for him.
“Who’s driving the boat?” she asked him.
“Sam, of course.”
“I take it that Sam is the deck hand and he has a licence?”
“Yes, he has a licence and he is more than a deck hand. He is an expert mariner and has been driving boats for years. He looks after this boat and some others and sometimes comes out with me. I have a mooring in an inlet not far from here—I thought that we would tie up there and have some lunch,” he said, pouring her a glass of champagne.
Sarah had to admit that lunch sounded too good to refuse—she was famished. She took the glass he held out to her and thanked him brusquely. “May I ask why your mood has changed so dramatically? Is it the sea air?” she enquired coolly.
He didn’t answer immediately but looked over her shoulder, scanning the horizon. “Sometimes I get a little anxious to get going.”
“Well, it wasn’t me that made you late. I will remind you that you were an hour late picking me up.”
“I know, I’m sorry. No hard feelings?” he asked with a grin.
Sarah looked down at her glass and took a slow sip. “It’s too nice a day for hard feelings,” she said softly.
“Good, because I forgot to mention that we are staying the night.”
This took Sarah by surprise. She hadn’t been expecting to stay overnight—why hadn’t he said something? What if she’d had to work or had other plans?
“Maxwell, why didn’t you say something earlier? I don’t have any overnight things with me and no toiletries.”
“That didn’t bother you last weekend.”
Sarah had to concede this point. “Of course, I’ll get by.”
“I have toiletries on board and you shouldn’t need any more than that,” he said, grinning wickedly. “Let’s go to the main deck where we will have lunch.”
Grasping his extended hand, Sarah stood and followed him to the outdoor entertaining deck below where there was yet more seating and a table.
“I need to assist Sam in tying up to the mooring,” Maxwell said before making his way to the forward deck of the boat. Once they were secure Sam disappeared inside to prepare lunch.
“Why don’t you change into your swimming costume? You can change in the master cabin, through the living area and down the stairs,” Maxwell said to her, having returned from the forward deck.
“Well, it just so happens that I did remember to bring that.” Sarah stood and grabbed her bag before following Sam inside.
Again she was awestruck as she took in the spacious living area with panorama windows, huge flat-screen TV and saloon lounges. The galley that was next to the living area was nearly as big as the kitchen in her apartment. Sam was in the galley preparing lunch and directed her to the cabins below.
The master cabin didn’t disappoint either. A huge king-sized bed sat in the middle surrounded by more panorama windows, and there was a flat-screen TV opposite the bed and an en suite and walk-in dressing room that would have made a five-star hotel proud. Sarah shook her head, astounded at the opulence and quite daunted by Maxwell’s obvious wealth. Even though he had stated that the boat was used mainly for business purposes, she suspected that Maxwell also used it a lot for pleasure. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth as she imagined Maxwell entertaining a bevy of luscious beauties aboard the luxury boat.
Shaking her head to rid herself of the unpleasant thoughts, she changed into a bikini and wrapped a gauzy sarong around her waist. She noticed that her hair was tangled from the wind and after brushing it free of knots she swept it up and secured it once more on top of her head and donned a large sun hat.
When she returned, Sting was playing through a surround sound system and th
e table was laid with an impressive array of seafood, fruit and crusty bread. Maxwell had poured more champagne. He stood when she approached and handed her a glass.
“For you, my lady,” he said, making a dramatic sweep of the table.
“Thank you, kind sir,” she responded with a giggle.
As they sat down Maxwell leaned towards her and lifted her chin so she was looking up at him. “You look absolutely breathtaking,” he said as his eyes raked her bikini-clad body. Sarah’s heart skipped a beat and her breath hitched as she looked up at him. He looked particularly good himself in a tight T-shirt and cargo shorts with his hair tousled from the wind.
Movement behind Maxwell’s shoulder caught Sarah’s eye. “Where is Sam going?” she asked as Sam and the dinghy headed towards the shore.
“He’s going in to stay ashore tonight. Sometimes he stays on board but tonight he has another engagement and I wanted to be alone with you.”
“Oh, of course. That will be nice,” she murmured, suddenly feeling unaccountably shy at the prospect of being alone with him for so long. She took a sip of champagne and examined him over the rim of her glass. He was studying her intently, an amused expression on his face.
“I believe you have gone all coy,” he said with a chuckle. “Does being out here alone with me make you nervous?”
“No,” she lied. She wasn’t about to admit to her sudden silliness and sought to change the subject. “You have chosen a lovely spot, very peaceful,” she said, studying their surroundings. Sheer cliffs bordered them on three sides. A small, secluded beach stretched along the base of the cliffs, its pristinely white sand glinting invitingly in the sun.
“I love this spot,” Maxwell responded appreciatively. “It’s only accessible by boat so its beach is often deserted.” He looked towards the food that Sam had prepared. “We should eat, are you hungry?”
