by Ashe Barker
Eventually Nathan rolls over on to his back and, piling pillows behind him, he props himself up against the headboard. He pulls me up alongside, his left arm slung around my shoulders. In his right hand he has the phone, which he clicks on. With a few strokes on the screen he has my porno pictures up, in glorious Technicolour. He holds the phone for me to see, and I cringe.
“Please, delete them. I don’t want you having pictures of me. Please.” I look up at him, pleading. How could I have let him take those shots? How could he have done it to me?
“You can delete them yourself, Eva. In a minute. First, though, do you see a difference between the two shots?” He toggles between them. I don’t want to look but he nudges me, insisting I pay attention.
“Do you see a difference, Eva?”
I take the phone and look carefully. There is a difference. Subtle, but definitely not the same. Are both pictures of me?
“Yes, Eva, they are both you.”
Uh-oh, more thinking aloud, getting to be a dodgy habit.
Flicking to one photo he holds the phone up in front of me. “This is the first picture I took, right after I finished waxing you. This is your not-a-chuckly-teddy look. This is you not enjoying yourself. Definitely not aroused. You hated the waxing, didn’t you?” At my silence he prompts. “Eva, didn’t you? It’s a good thing my nearest neighbors are three floors down or someone might have called the police, the din you made.”
I grimace, remembering, and he kisses the top of my head.
Using his thumb to scroll through he brings up the other picture. “This one, on the other hand, this is your fuck-me-please, I’m-gagging-for-it look. This was what you looked like after I made you come with my fingers in your arse, before I fucked you just now. In this picture you are definitely aroused. Can you see what’s different, Eva?”
Embarrassed I shake my head. There’s something, definitely, but I’m not sure specifically what. I look again at the second shot, a perfect view of my own genitals, pretty and naked and very, very exposed. Wow.
“Mmm, wow indeed.” He agrees. Did I say that out loud? Apparently so. I really must try to watch that. “Pretty bloody amazing. Beautiful, in fact. Ready for a biology lesson, Miss Byrne?”
“What do you mean? I know what all the bits are.” I am somewhat indignant. “A level biology says I know my way around the female genitalia.”
“Only A level? You disappoint me, Eva. Still, it’s a start. We can work with that.”
“Grade A!” I interrupt, indignant.
“Naturally, Miss Byrne. May I continue?”
I nod somewhat sullenly it has to be said.
“Thank you. Now allow me to take you on a guided tour round your own genitalia, your aroused genitalia, that is. First, compare the colour—you’re much pinker, darker in the second picture. And look at your clitoris.” He toggles between the two and I see that in the second picture my clit is much bigger, swollen. So are the lips of my pussy. It’s really very obvious now he’s pointed it out.
“Do you see how your clit has swollen? That’s one way I know for sure when you’re enjoying whatever I’m doing to you. Through the pain, under the pain. You might ask me to stop, but if your clit’s swollen and pink, if your nipples are hard like little red pebbles and if the lips at the entrance to your pussy are swollen and pink too that tells me that whatever your mouth might be saying, your body’s fucking loving it. You’ve seen enough now, Eva. Delete the pictures if you want.” He hands me the phone, and leans over me, his gaze gentle, serious, a soft smile on his lips. Lifting my knees with his hand he gently pushes them apart, the backs of his fingers lightly stroking between my legs. His gaze leaves my face to fix on a point beyond the end of the bed. I follow it and see myself reflected in the mirror on the wardrobe door, my newly hairless genitals in all their glory. Instinctively I make to close my legs, but he pushes them open again. Bloody hell, am I to have no secrets?
“There’s pleasure/pain Eva, and that’s what I show you. And then there’s just pain. The nasty sort. Your body knows the difference. Your head still has to learn. But you’re a fast learner, so we’ll work on it.”
“Today? Will we be working on it today?”
“Not today. It’s still too soon. You need to get over yesterday. And now, I think you need to get some sleep, sweetheart.”
I hadn’t realised I was yawning, but he’s right. I am bone weary, again. He pulls me close and I snuggle into his chest, my arm slung across him. “Tomorrow then…” I murmur as he pulls the duvet around us.
“Mmm, we’ll see.” The quiet whisper brushes my ear as he bends to kiss my hair, and I feel safe again.
Chapter Twelve
When I awaken, I am alone, tucked up warm and cozy in Nathan’s bed. I glance across at the clock. Two twenty. I have been asleep for a couple of hours. I stretch, allowing my fingers to drift downward to explore my new, hair-free body. I slide my fingers over the mound where my flame-coloured thatch used to be, and I definitely like this feel better. Smooth, sort of peachy. It really is rather nice. I probe further, spreading my legs now to reach between them. The sensation is really very pleasant, much more enjoyable than my previous fumbles in this department, but not nearly so exquisite as when Nathan touches me. But I’m loving the smooth silkiness of my skin, the wetness instantly starting to gather and pool as I stroke my clit. I can feel the sensitive little nub swelling under my hands, and I’m just wondering about looking around for the mirror to aid my voyage of discovery when I become aware of sounds from elsewhere in the apartment. I lie still for a few seconds, listening.
I can hear the low hum of the television out in the lounge area and suddenly want to be out there with Nathan. Not in here, alone. I slip out of bed and retrieve my—well, Nathan’s—dark navy bathrobe from behind the leather sofa. Tying the belt I pad barefoot into the lounge.
There’s no sign of Nathan, but as I stand, wondering, I hear his unmistakable tone coming from his office. The door is ajar, and I can hear another voice too. He’s having a conversation with someone. Do we have a visitor? He could have warned me—I’d have dressed for the occasion.
I turn to head for the spare room where my clothes are still piled on the bed but pause when I hear Rosie’s childish giggle. She can’t be here, he would definitely have told me.
I turn and make my way instead to the open office door and peer round it. Nathan is there, his bare feet propped on the corner of his desk. He is wearing faded black jeans, unbuttoned, and no shirt. I take a moment to savor the sight of Nathan Darke without his trademark sharp suit or tie and come to the conclusion that this version is every bit as mouthwatering. Still unaware of my presence, he’s transfixed on the screen of his laptop which is open on the desk. From this angle I can’t see the display, but Rosie’s excited chatter fills the room.
“Please, Daddy, can I go? Sophie says there are ponies, and we can go skating, and, and—“
“Which one’s Sophie? Have I met her?”
“Yes, Daddy, you know you have. She was at my sleepover but she was poorly and you drove her home. She was sick in your car.”
Nathan’s response is an unsympathetic grunt. I suspect the child in question will prove to be every bit as memorable as Rosie seems to think. “Oh right, that Sophie.”
Thought so.
“Well, perhaps Mrs. Richardson could have a word with her mother. Where do they live?”
“In the village, near the church. Sophie’s mum helps run the library so we could go and see her there. She’ll tell you it’s all right.”
I’ve shuffled around behind Nathan and can now see the Skype logo on the screen. At least Rosie isn’t on video, I can’t see her and more to the point, she can’t see me slinking around the apartment in her father’s bathrobe. He catches the movement out of the corner of his eye and beckons me to come to him. I do, and perch on the arm of his chair.
“Miss Byrne is here now. Say hello, sweetheart.”
“Hello, Miss Byrne,�
� trills Rosie. “Are you having a good time? Was it a nice party?”
“Hi, Rosie. Er, yes, it was a lovely party. We danced and—your daddy won a prize. And yes, I’m enjoying my weekend. What about you?”
“What did you win, daddy?” Rosie has her own priorities and pursues them with relentless tenacity.
“A rosette,” he answers. “And a plaque for my office.”
“Oh. Right.” I get the impression Rosie hoped for something rather more sparkly. She pauses, then presses on. “Miss Byrne, Sophie wants me to go to her caravan with her. It’s in, in…”
“Northumberland,” puts in Nathan.
“Oh, that sounds nice. When are you going?”
“We haven’t decided yet,” Nathan breaks in quickly. “I need to have a chat with this Sophie’s parents first. Or Grace will.”
“Please, Daddy.” Rosie’s voice has taken on that whining, wheedling tone so artlessly cultivated by pretty much every child I have even known. It must be something in the human DNA.
“Did I hear you say Sophie’s mum works at the library? Is she called Heather?” I ask.
“Yes, I think so. Do you know her?”
“I do. If it’s the same person, then we met last week.” I turn to Nathan. “She seemed very nice. And she seemed to know you.”
“See! See, Daddy. I told you. Miss Byrne thinks it’s all right.”
“Oh, now I didn’t say that. I just—”
“Rosie, I’ll give Sophie’s mum a call when I get back, then we’ll decide about the trip. Okay?”
“But—”
“Is that okay, princess?” His tone has firmed up, a fact not lost on Rosie.
“Oh, all right then. When will you be home?”
“Tomorrow, but not till late.”
“How long will you be here for?”
“A few days. I’ve arranged to be at home most of next week. I don’t want to miss all your holiday, especially if you might be gadding off to Northumberland.”
“Can we go swimming one day?”
“Of course.”
“Can we go to see Uncle Dan at the zoo?”
“Zoo?” I ask.
Nathan clarifies, “My brother, Dan, the one who bought me the guitar. He works at a zoo in the Lake District. Rosie likes to go and watch the tigers being fed.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised. It sounds fascinating. I like tigers. Can I come to the zoo as well?”
“I daresay we could squeeze you into the car. What do you think, Rosie? Shall we all go?”
“Yes!” Rosie squeals her approval at the plan.
“Right. I’ll give Uncle Dan a ring.”
Rosie lets out an excited squeal. “I will. I’ll do that. He never says no to me.”
“Fine.” Nathan shakes his head and grins up at me. “My poor brother is putty in her hands. He hasn’t a chance. Okay, Rosie, ask him what day would be best.”
“Shall I Skype you again to tell you what he says?”
“Yes, if you like. Talk soon, sweetheart.”
“Bye, Daddy. Love you.”
The screen goes blank, and Nathan turns to me.
I rush to apologize. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to interfere, over Rosie and the trip. I just thought—“
“Eva, relax. Rosie gets carried away and she can be manipulative, but she knows the score. I’ll check with Sophie’s parents and if they do want to have Rosie along. I expect it’ll be fine. Especially since you know her mother so well. The library, you said?”
“Yes. It was that day I walked down to Oakworth, in the rain.”
“Ah yes, I recall it well.”
“And after, you bought me a coat. It was a lovely present. Very thoughtful.”
“I have another gift for you. I hope you’ll like this one just as much.”
I eye him with suspicion. “Not more nipple clamps?”
“No. This present is a bit more—scientific. Right up your street. In fact, if I’d known your fondness for all things technical, I’d have introduced you to it earlier.” He closes the laptop and holds out his hand to me. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
He leads me back into the lounge and over to one of the two sofas. On the low coffee table between the settees there is a black leather case, maybe eighteen inches long by one foot in width. I can’t believe I missed it when I first came in here.
“Remind me, Eva. Did you get an A level in physics?” Nathan seats himself on the sofa opposite and regards me with interest.
“Of course.”
“An A?”
I nod.
“I don’t know why I asked, really. You’ll probably appreciate the science in this better than I do then. Tell me, have you heard of a violet wand before?”
I eye him, doubtless with a degree of suspicion. “No, I don’t think so.”
He leans forward and flicks a catch on the side of the case, then opens the lid. Inside I can see a black handle attached to a length of electrical cord with a three pin plug at one end. Various other pieces are seated neatly in little compartments. The additional parts look to be made of glass and come in a variety of shapes. I lift my gaze to meet Nathan’s.
“What does it do?”
“The main part, the wand, is a high voltage electrical transformer. The electrodes”—he gestures to the glass attachments—“are filled with an inert gas. Can you work out the rest?”
I most certainly can. It’s much the same technology as a neon sign. “The glass will glow? Yes?”
“Yes, and more. It’s probably easier to demonstrate than explain. First, though, health and safety. Do you have a heart complaint of any sort?
“No, just the asthma. You know about that.”
“Fine.” He extracts the handle from the case and selects one of the attachments. He inserts it into the end, then reaches to plug the apparatus into the socket behind him. He flicks a switch on the gadget, and a low hum starts up. He grins at me, then draws the glass tube protruding from the handle along the length of his bare arm.
There’s a rapid crackling sound, and sparks seem to fly from the wand to his skin. He doesn’t flinch.
“Want a go?”
I frown, not entirely certain that I do. “I thought we agreed no electrocution. It was on that list of yours.”
“Do I look electrocuted to you, Eva?”
“Well, no. Can I have a look at it?” I’m already reaching for the item, intending to inspect it carefully.
Nathan’s having none of that. “Oh no you don’t. You can read up on the science underpinning my little toy later, and I don’t doubt you will. For now, if you want to try it, lose the bathrobe and let’s get you in position.”
“What if I don’t like it?”
“You use your safe word. But I think you will like it. It’s very sensual.”
I’m starting to think sensual could be my middle name. And I have already learned to trust Nathan to know what I’ll like. Enough said, I loosen the belt and shrug off the robe.
“Do I need to lie down?”
He shakes his head, stands and hold out his free hand. I take it without hesitation. He leads me back into the bedroom.
“In here’s better because the floor’s carpeted. Now, if you could just kneel on the bed please. Right in the centre…”
I clamber onto the mattress and look at him expectantly. I’m apprehensive, but the scientist in me is intrigued. Maybe I should look on this as some sort of experiment.
Nathan lays the wand down on the end of the bed and leaves the room. I have a few moments alone to contemplate what might be coming next as he returns to the living room to fetch the case and attachments. He dumps those next to the wand, then opens the chest at the foot of the bed.
I’m relieved to see him emerge with nothing more challenging than a pair of padded leather cuffs that fasten with Velcro. They are attached to each other with stout plastic clips. Nathan separates them and hands them to me.
“Put those on your wrists please.”
I do as instructed then wait as Nathan selects an electrode and slots it into the wand. The glass tube is about five or six inches in length and rounded at the end. He plugs the apparatus into the mains, then glances up at the ceiling. I follow his gaze.
Above the bed, the ceiling is crossed by several exposed beams. I noticed those previously and thought them incongruous in a modern building such as this, but assumed they were a design feature. I was wrong. Nathan returns to the chest and this time produces a length of rope. He comes to stand on the bed beside me and loops the rope over a hook in the beam directly above me.
“If you would reach up please, as high as you can.”
I obey, and with a few deft movements, he fastens the rope to form a loop dangling from the ceiling. He adjusts the knot securing the rope in place then clips my cuffs together, through the loop at the bottom. I give a little tug, force of habit really, but find that my arms are effectively restrained, fully extended above me.
“Comfortable?”
I nod. The length of the rope is sufficient for me to still kneel on the bed.
“Good. A little warm up to start then. Are you ready?”
Again, I nod.
“Miss Byrne, for the avoidance of doubt I’d prefer you to answer me with actual words during a scene. So, are you ready?”
Another rule to remember. I store it away. “Yes, I think so.”
“Remember, say red if you want me to stop, yellow to slow down.”
“Yes. I know. Oh!” I flinch at the sudden whirring as he starts up the wand. He hasn’t even touched me yet and I’m as jumpy as a cat.
“Try to relax, Miss Byrne,” he murmurs as he comes forward to kneel on the bed behind me. I look across the room, my attention caught by our reflection in the mirrored wardrobe door opposite—me naked and suspended ready for whatever he chooses to do. He smiles at me through the mirror, and I manage to smile back. More or less.
I watch, fascinated, as he raises the wand then brings it close to my arm. His movements are slow, unhurried, and just before the wand touches my skin the sparks fly.
