by Alison Tyler
He shrugged, and in that shrug I saw that he wanted to erase what had happened, without having to say so himself. Everything that had happened. The break-up and the fights. For an instant, I thought about going to one of Nora’s private rooms, of fucking Byron and calling out Anthony’s name at the climax. But he just wasn’t worth it.
‘I want you,’ he said finally, when he saw I wasn’t going to make things any easier for him. ‘Eleanor, I want what we had.’
And as he said the words, I understood something that had eluded me. What we’d had was gone. Or maybe we hadn’t ever really had it.
Nora was glaring at Byron from the bar. She looked as if she would like to eject him without any help from Travis. But I didn’t need her help. All I needed was to shake my head at Byron and turn away. Like he enjoyed saying on his blog: Case Closed.
Chapter Nineteen
Upstairs in the office at Nora’s club, I read the manuscript again. I focused hard on the words – trying not to think of Anthony. Trying only to think of the ancient lovers, dead now for thousands of years. The music throbbed from down below, but I lost myself in the journal.
The pages explained the rest. The pages gave me more history, more romance, than I would have guessed. Marcus continued to make love to Elena. All night long, he made love to her with his fingers, his tongue and his cock, and with the finely crafted handle of the knife he had used to cut away Elena’s clothing. In the privacy of the bedroom, the two took more pleasure from each other than I could have fantasised about, than I could have created in my very active imagination.
After, wrapped up tight in each other’s arms, Marcus said, ‘You will have an important spot in this house. Danae is lucky to have been given the rights to you. Through the years, you will bring much money to the temple, but you will do more than that.’
Elena waited, silent, wondering.
‘You know the power that hetairai have over the men in this community. How the words of one woman have caused wars, have ended reigns of power. Danae is too well known to be of much use to us. But as I have infiltrated the ranks of the soldiers, you will infiltrate the bedroom of the captains, you will bed those highest ranking officials. The child of your womb will be our future king.’
Elena realised that her father was wrong. The Oracle was right. If Marcus spoke the truth, and Elena trusted him implicitly, then Elena would give birth one day to the king of their people. Her child would grow up to rule all. The journal said:
I turned over and wrapped myself in Marcus’ arms. I wanted nothing else but to serve Aphrodite as she and Danae would have me serve. No, I lied. I wanted something else. I wanted to serve Marcus, as well, side by side to give him everything he needed, everything he wanted, every fantasy that played itself out in his mind.
This is what I wanted, too. This is what I wanted to do for Anthony.
Marcus said, ‘The party is over tonight. The festivities are finished and all of the guests have left. The only thing that remains is for you to be presented to the rest of the girls.’
‘I met them,’ I said, confused.
‘You met them, yes,’ he agreed, ‘but you were not presented to them. You were brought into the house, rushed into it to prepare for tonight. This morning –’ and he indicated with a look skywards that it was morning, ‘– you will be presented to them as a sister.’
He cut me loose of my bindings, finally, and had me sit on the edge of the bed. While I watched, he called out to the hall, and a young handmaiden came rushing in to help us. Marcus instructed her with his wishes, speaking softly to her, pointing and indicating what it was that she was to do. Without a word, she came to the bed, and she used cosmetics to adorn me, painting my face. I watched with the help of a polished silver mirror. I had been told that I was pretty. All my life, people have spoken of my beauty. But now, with the help of these added powders, the girl transformed me into a woman, a creature who would rival the goddesses with her beauty.
‘Your lips are more luscious than Danae’s,’ Marcus said softly. ‘Look at yourself. Look at your beauty.’
I stared at that other person, the vision in the mirror. I gazed upon her in awe, as mesmerised as Narcissus was by his own captivating reflection. Then I shook my head, not wanting to look any further.
My eyelids were gilded, my lips slicked with colour as dark as the ripest berries. She decorated my hair with a glittery powder, then wove it through with fresh flowers. When she was finished, she dressed me in another transparent toga, and then Marcus led me from the room, down the hallway to the large living area.
No trace of the party remained, except for my newfound sisters, all curled up asleep on the various beds and sofas. At Marcus’ approach, the women awoke, stared up at us, gawked at me.
‘Like Danae,’ Marcus said softly, ‘you have the ability to transform. Only a little preparation and you take on the body and the spirit of the goddess.’
My sisters did not move from their positions, eyes wide, mouths slack. Marcus said, ‘Show respect,’ and they bowed their heads before me. What could I do? I walked among them, touching them lightly, letting them feel my acceptance of the honour they bestowed upon me. And then, moving back into the safety of Marcus’ shadow, I waited for his next command.
He remained silent.
‘What do you want from me?’ I whispered.
‘Nothing but to observe your beauty.’
I stayed still, as still as I could, while he stared at me, his eyes filled with the same wonderment of the women in Danae’s household. Danae, herself, curled up on one of the sofas with several other girls nestled close around her, simply looked at me and smiled.
‘You will make Aphrodite proud,’ Marcus said. ‘You will make all of us proud.’
I lowered my head, as my new sisters had done, and sighed. I could ask nothing else. Even my father, had he been present, could have expected nothing more. The Oracle came true in an instant and my fate, my destiny, was sealed.
Chapter Twenty
The party went on and on. I thought, hoped really, that Anthony might show up, surprising me as Byron had. That he might suddenly appear when Nora was passing out the bright-pink hats indicating which contestants would be invited to join the reality show. If he had come, he would have seen two girls collapsing in hysterical sobs when they did not make the cut. He would have seen one future bartender kiss Nora fully on the lips and another do that bending over the bar trick that Nora had talked so eloquently about.
But he didn’t.
I waited as long as I could, before feeling the muscles in my body start to tighten. Anticipation made me tense all over. The possibility of being let down was almost too much to bear. I drove the bouncer crazy, asking repeatedly whether Anthony had arrived. ‘No, honey,’ he said. ‘I promise to let you know when your man shows up.’ If he shows up, I thought, but didn’t say. I didn’t want to hear the words aloud.
Finally, I gave Nora a hug and told her I had to go.
‘You’re not staying? You have to stay.’
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘I have to go.’
She gave me a look that let me know she understood.
Before heading towards Anthony’s apartment, I changed my clothing. It was crazy to do this, but I no longer felt as if I was operating on a completely sane level. Besides, where had acting normal ever gotten me? Wasn’t it time for me to break out of my box? I stood in the fancy bathroom at the Pink Fedora and looked myself over. I wasn’t in costume any longer, but I might as well have been. A man walked in and gave me the once over, his head nodding in approval – Nora’s bathrooms are unisex as might be expected.
I slipped out of the room before he could say a word.
I arrived at Anthony’s apartment later, wearing only my lightest nightgown, one that reminded me of the togas described in the story. It was a sheer, silvery floor-length number, made of expensive silk. I wore it under my black cashmere coat, which I took off outside of his building, shivering in the cool ni
ght air while waiting for him to let me in. I prayed to God that he would let me in, that he wouldn’t leave me out there in the cold. What would I do if he refused to speak to me? I couldn’t go back to the club, back to Nora’s house …
The buzzer sounded and I gratefully made my way up to his apartment floor.
He opened the door quickly and, at first, he didn’t say a word, simply stared. I wondered what he was thinking until he motioned for me to follow him down the hall to his bedroom. The patter of our footsteps on the polished wooden floor sounded so loud to me. I felt as if we’d already been down this path together, and that we were replaying that experience in slow motion. Every movement seemed heightened. Every action seemed choreographed.
I’d never been to his room before, but I didn’t focus too seriously on the surroundings, other than taking note of the raised circular track, the model trains in place at the starting line. After that, I focused on his four-poster bed. It was unmade and, when I put out my hand, I felt warmth at the edge of the bed sheet. I pictured him in bed, and then visualised myself under the covers, naked, alone. I didn’t need him for this first fantasy; I only needed his heat. Needed to wrap myself in the sheets that smelled of his body, needed to put my head in the indents on his pillow, mould myself into the shadow that he had left behind.
But normal people don’t do things like that, do they? Normal people don’t strip off their clothes and climb into their date’s bed. I still had some little desire to be normal, even if it didn’t make sense any more.
I sat on the edge of the bed while he stood in front of me, and now his fingers moved to lift my nightgown, pull it up to my shoulders, and his lips followed the trail of his hands. He revealed more and more pale skin, and his fingers moved all the way up my ribs to my small breasts. My body trembled as he touched me. He was being so gentle. Too gentle. What was this? What did I want from him?
Anthony pushed me back on the bed, slid the nightgown over my head and off me. He straddled me, looked down at me. ‘Good girls are rewarded,’ he said. ‘Did you know that?’
When I shook my head, he said, ‘Liar,’ and I instantly blushed. Was I lying? I didn’t know. Confusion beat through me, and I wished I could find my voice and explain. Wished I could confess to him everything I’d wanted from the start, from that very first kiss, from long before his lips had met mine.
He put his hands forwards and into my hair. His fingertips stroked my hair away from my face, then tangled in the strands of caramel softness pulled free.
‘Don’t be silent,’ he said. ‘Talk to me.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘But don’t say that.’
‘I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry that I went behind your back. I’m –’
‘Don’t say that,’ he said again. ‘It’s not what I want to hear.’
‘Then what?’ I asked. I could feel how hard he was against me, and how much I was desperate to feel him inside of me.
He said, ‘Good girls are rewarded, and bad girls are punished.’
And now I did understand. He didn’t want me to tell him I was sorry. He wanted me to tell him what I needed.
‘Punish me,’ I said, my voice faltering, dying down to a whisper.
‘How?’
Oh, God, he was going to make me say everything. He was going to make me ask. I wanted to hide my face in his sheets. I wanted to flee – but not really. Because I understood now that fleeing didn’t get me what I wanted. And more than anything else, I wanted him to put me over his lap and spank me. Spank me and then fuck me.
‘How, Eleanor?’
He knew. He was playing with me. He’d had that paddle out. He knew everything that I wanted. And still he was tormenting me by making me ask. But that was part of the whole scenario. I wasn’t some blow-up doll, without a mind, without a heart. I had to take responsibility for my actions. I had to ask him for what I wanted.
I took a deep breath. One that I could feel in the very depth of my soul. ‘Spank me,’ I said, and then as if the act of confessing had opened some previously dammed floodgates, the pent-up words finally came out in a rush. ‘Spank me, Anthony. Please, Anthony. Put me over your lap.’ My voice trembled, but I didn’t stop. I needed him to understand how much I wanted everything I was asking for. I would have gotten down on my knees and begged if that’s what he required, but luckily, Anthony took pity on me.
As I was speaking, he began to make my fantasies come true. His hands were strong and warm and, in a flash, he had me upended over his sturdy lap. Even through the faded fabric of his old blue Levis, I could feel how hard he was beneath me, how much this encounter turned him on. We were the perfect pair in this situation. He wanted to give me everything I so desperately craved, and I wanted to take everything he had to give. Had I always known he would? Was that why I had avoided this for so long? Keeping a fantasy just that – a fantasy – made me never have to fully confront my true desires. But now everything was different. Anthony knew.
He understood.
For the first series of spanks, he simply used his hand on top of my panties. But even with his bare hand alone, he warmed my rear for me, the heavy sensation of his open palm against my satin knickers reverberating throughout my whole body. Over and over his hand connected with my panty-clad bottom. Over and over, I responded to the new sensation as if trained. My pussy became swimmingly wet, and I could not believe how turned on this sensual punishment was making me.
That’s another lie.
I lived for every single smack of his hand against me. My heart seemed to beat at the same rhythm of his hand on my ass, and I could feel my juices pooling between my nether lips, the liquid of my sexual desire filling me. I knew that if he touched me there – just touched me – I would come. The orgasm would be sweet. I knew it.
But, greedy thing that I was, I wanted more.
‘Please –’ I begged, hoping that he wouldn’t mind my requests. I had no idea how he would react to my speaking. Once he’d gotten me to ask for what I wanted, he might have been the type to expect to control every part of the encounter. I didn’t know, yet I couldn’t stop myself. ‘Please, Anthony,’ my tremulous voice begged, ‘take my panties down.’ I wriggled my hips as I spoke, letting him know with the urging of my body what I wanted as well as my words.
Don’t deny me, I pleaded, silently. Give me what I need. I’ve waited so long. I’ve been such a good girl. Such a bad girl. I’ve been desperate …
‘Why?’ he asked, and his voice was so deliciously stern that I could hardly control myself.
‘I want you to spank me bare. I want you to take down my panties.’
Once again, as I spoke, my wishes became reality. His fingertips didn’t linger within the waistband of my panties. He had my knickers down my thighs so fast that the fabric almost whistled in the air. But then, for one agonising moment, he waited, and I could guess that he was admiring his handiwork. My behind must have been charmingly pink by now, blushing rosy all over, my rear cheeks far pinker than ever before.
Don’t, I begged in my head. Don’t stop. Don’t wait.
I rocked my hips against his, and I could feel once more how hard he was. A burst of thankfulness ran through me. I needed to know that this scenario turned him on as much as it did me.
Then his fingertips traced over my rounded ass cheeks, and he seemed to be doing more than admiring me – but now inspecting me. Embarrassment flooded through me, and I turned my head into the crook of my arm. I could feel myself blushing harder than ever, and I guessed that my face was becoming as scarlet as my blooming rear cheeks.
How long would he make me wait before he continued?
That query was answered almost immediately. As if determined to outdo his work so far, his hand came up and then down, connecting ferociously with my naked bum. The spank was louder than ever, and the pain was instantaneous. Yet this was what I had dreamed of. This was what I required. His hand came do
wn again on the other side, and then continued quickly, landing a medley of blows back and forth on my rapidly reddening rear.
He smacked my right cheek, then my left, then focused on the underside of my rear, the most tender part of the skin, the sweetest spot. I rocked on his lap as he spanked me, but not because I wanted to get away. Thoughts of escape were far from my mind. Redemption was the only thing I craved.
Anthony didn’t say a word as he punished me. He was as intent on the act of spanking me as he was at any other task I’d ever witnessed him doing. Right now, I was his work. I was his focus. As I revelled in being the most important thing in his world, the pain echoed inside me.
I had asked for this!
That thought sounded loud in my mind, louder even than the smacks of his hand on my naked skin. I’d begged for this punishment. I deserved it.
I tried my best to stay still for him, but I failed. He had not told me to hold myself steady for him, and I was grateful for that because I thrashed across his lap, my legs kicking in the air. To make his job easier on himself, he scissored one leg over both of mine, and stilled me this way, keeping me in check as he continued my punishment.
I thought of the girl in the story. I thought of my fantasy of Anthony spanking me in the conference room. I realised that all I’d ever wanted was this – to be thrashed like this, by Anthony. How had he known? Way back at our Christmas party, when he’d kissed me, and then let his hand find my ass for a light little tap – how had he known? Was I that transparent? To the right lover, were all my desires visible?
The spanking went on until tears wet my face, and then suddenly, as if he knew my exact breaking point, Anthony was pulling me tightly into his arms and kissing me. Kissing away my tears. Kissing my wet cheeks, my full lips. I felt so exposed, my panties still twisted around one of my ankles, my bottom throbbing from his punishment. My hair a mess, strands in my face. My eyes wet.
But Anthony didn’t seem to find me out of sorts at all. I understood how I’d been pushing my fantasies down, denying them. This is what I wanted. This is what I’d always wanted.
