By His Command

by Justine Elyot

I yowled then whimpered the required words.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  My left cheek got the next. He alternated between the two, at a magisterial pace but putting considerable strength into each stroke, until, by the tenth, I was burning all over. Much as I detested a paddling, I had to admit that I was enjoying watching him in the mirror, almost enough to make it worthwhile. He looked so focused, so intent on his work. After each stroke, he leant forwards to assess the extent of the damage, examining it with all the gravity of a scientist looking through a microscope.

  All the same, I wasn’t sure my bottom could take many more of these hard, deep-impacting smacks and I wondered how quickly I would become numb.

  Jasper seemed to have had the same thought, for he changed his technique abruptly, peppering both cheeks with smart, fast strokes. This, I knew, would become unbearable very quickly unless he made them a little lighter, and I was squirming and yelping in seconds.

  I was in the thick of a stream of plaintive ‘ow’s when there was a knock at the door.

  Jasper stopped, brush tight in fist, face frozen, eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

  ‘Who is it?’ he called.

  ‘Your cab’s outside, Mr Jay.’

  ‘It’s a little early.’

  ‘Shall I ask him to wait?’

  ‘Well, I would think so, wouldn’t you? We’ll be ten minutes.’

  ‘Very good, sir.’

  We waited thirty seconds or so to be sure he was gone before speaking.

  ‘He must have heard,’ I moaned.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘It’s none of his business, is it?’

  ‘He’ll know.’

  ‘You don’t even know who that was.’

  ‘Every male member of staff I see in this place …’

  Jasper smiled.

  ‘They’ll know what’s happened to you, won’t they? Never mind, it can’t be helped. Come on, bum up. I haven’t finished with you yet.’

  ‘But the cab …’

  ‘The cab,’ he said firmly, ‘can wait.’

  I think he carried on spanking me longer than he would have done, just to prove that he was in charge and no waiting cab was going to come between him and my bottom.

  A minute or two, and countless rapid-fire strokes, later, he put down the brush.

  ‘Turn around,’ he said softly. ‘Look at yourself in the mirror.’

  My bottom was deep, dark red all over, with blotchy areas that would become bruises in due course. It was swollen and the skin felt as if it would crack if stretched.

  ‘There,’ he said, sighing happily. ‘What do you say?’

  ‘Thank you for correcting me, sir.’

  ‘It was a pleasure.’ He bit his lip. ‘Fuck, I don’t want to go out now. I want to stay here and have you every which way till Tuesday.’

  I looked at him from underneath my heavily mascaraed eyelashes. ‘Well …’ I said.

  ‘No, don’t tempt me, you minx. We’ve got to go. Come on, I’ll help you with that dress.’

  I needed the help. It was like a geometry puzzle, trying to work out which bits were meant to cover which body parts. Eventually, I was dressed enough to avoid certain arrest for indecent exposure, but only just.

  My breasts were on display almost down to the nipple. Jasper applied his tit tape with expert care and assured me that nothing could slip and cause a wardrobe malfunction. The cleavage was so low it crested my navel, and there was copious side-boob on display as well. It was backless too, skimming my coccyx. If it was a fraction looser, people would be able to peer down and see my bum cheeks. That’s if they hadn’t already been treated to a flash by the swish of my severely abbreviated skirt. It wasn’t tight, but flowed in a skater style. A breath of wind would be enough to give everyone an eyeful of my upper thighs. Jasper had been careful not to apply the paddle lower than the curve of my cheeks, though, so I should just about be safe. All the same, I was going to have to exercise constant vigilance. My bright-red bottom would be at the forefront of my mind all evening – which I guess was Jasper’s intention.

  ‘It’ll help you behave, won’t it?’ he said, putting his hands up my skirt and patting my hot bottom. ‘Keep you nice and sweet all night. Give you something to think about.’ He kissed me hard, with tongues, then tutted at himself for smudging my lipstick. ‘Better sort that out in the taxi,’ he said. ‘Something else to think about, love, is what I’m going to do to you when I get you back here. See if you can guess. I’ll take your answers in the cab home.’

  He put his thumbs over my nipples and rubbed them slowly until they swelled into hard buttons inside their thin golden covering.

  ‘Oh, don’t,’ I begged.

  ‘They’ll go down by the time we get there,’ he said, eyes gleaming. ‘Perhaps. God, we’d better go before I –’

  He took my arm and yanked me to the door. The thin strappy heels I wore made me stagger like Bambi, but he held me straight.

  By the time we were in the lobby, I had worked out how to walk in them. Every eye followed us, one of them perhaps belonging to the employee who had heard me being spanked, but I didn’t care about that any more. I was proud. As long as I was by Jasper’s side, I didn’t give a damn who knew what.

  Chapter Nine

  The dress didn’t feel like a dress. I could very easily forget that I was wearing anything at all, except when the hem brushed my thighs, tickling the sensitive skin there.

  ‘I’ve no idea how I’m going to get out of this cab without flashing the world,’ I said, trying to smooth it down over the tops of my legs.

  Jasper crooked a finger underneath and raised it higher. If he wasn’t careful, the taxi driver would get an eyeful of my nude pussy.

  ‘You need lessons in deportment,’ he said, stroking my thigh. ‘How to stay classy while wearing next to nothing. If you’re going to be in my movie …’

  ‘Oh, but I’m not. Am I? You aren’t serious about that?’

  ‘Sarah, just because I haven’t mentioned it for a few hours doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten. You’re still my number-one choice for the role. But I need to discuss it with some of these industry boys I’m meeting tonight. They might well nix it. But I could always self-finance … hmm. I don’t know. It’s still on the table, though. Which is where I’d like you to be right now.’

  He leant into me, puckering for a kiss, but then remembered that I’d only just reapplied my ruined lipstick and put a finger to my mouth instead.

  I sucked on it, wishing it was elsewhere. Sending me out with a freshly spanked bottom and no prospect of immediate relief was cruel. I was hot and sticky, oozing on to the seat.

  Yes, I’d like to be on his table, a place I had been many times. Horizontal, looking up at the light fitting, legs spread and hooked over his shoulders while he thrust, hard, hard, harder …

  I had to stop. I didn’t want to smell of sexual desire on the red carpet. Thank heavens for the strong masking aroma of my perfume.

  Jasper made no effort to help me with this, though, keeping one finger in my mouth while the other hand crept ever higher up my thigh.

  I tried to clamp my legs together, looking meaningfully at the driver.

  He conceded the point, backed off and turned to peer out at the rain-washed London streets.

  ‘Looks like you’ll be running up that red carpet,’ he said. ‘It’s bucketing down.’

  At the venue, security guards stood at the kerb with a pot of umbrellas. Jasper opened one over us and we paraded up in true British style, watching the rain light up in the glare of the flashbulbs. Actually, flashbulb, singular. It wasn’t a big starry affair – most of the ‘celebs’ were proper artists, musicians and other creatives, with just a smattering of magazine regulars.

  All the same, we had to pose under the canopy for a press shot. It was too strange and I wasn’t sure how to do it, so I just stood there while people shouted and milled around us, clinging to Jasper’s arm and tryin
g not to look terrified.

  ‘Would you mind telling us the lady’s name, Mr Jay, for our write-up?’

  ‘Certainly. This is my partner, Sarah Wells. And I don’t mean business partner.’ His voice dropped and he pulled me closer, proudly proprietorial. ‘I mean bed partner,’ he said with a devilish baring of teeth.

  I was too shocked to say anything until we were inside the marquee, surrounded by clinking glasses and popping corks and acres of well-groomed flesh.

  ‘Why did you say that?’ I hissed, accepting a glass of champagne and knocking it back, my fingers trembling. Dutch courage.

  ‘Why not? Isn’t it true?’

  ‘It’s just …’ I shook my head. Jasper was already nodding at some suited men in a corner.

  ‘We need to talk to these guys,’ he said, squiring me across the room. ‘And after that, I need to get you somewhere private and do unspeakable things to you. I wish to Christ I’d picked a different dress now. Something that covers you from neck to toe.’

  My thoughts were running along similar lines. I felt naked, especially when casual glances turned to me and then became less casual, more curious. I had the uneasy feeling that I was a talking point.

  The three suited men were ostensibly looking at Jasper, but I knew they had me in the corner of their sights and were intrigued.

  ‘Jasper,’ cried the first and biggest, rising from one of many round white leather sofas dotted around the place. ‘We were just talking about you.’

  ‘I thought my ears were burning,’ he said, and he put a hand on my bottom, just for a second, as if the word ‘burning’ had made him think of it. ‘This is Sarah. Sarah, meet Vijay Seth, Ralph Linwood, James Gretsch.’

  The two last-named remained in their seats and waved lazily, but the first big guy put out a hand and shook mine until I thought my arm would drop off.

  ‘Friend of Jasper’s?’ he said. ‘Friend of mine. He’s a great talent. Are you an actor?’

  ‘No,’ I said, but Jasper spoke over me, quickly and smoothly.

  ‘I’m thinking of casting Sarah in my new project,’ he said.

  ‘Great, that’s great,’ said Vijay, looking me up and down. ‘What have I seen you in before, Sarah?’

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ I said, thinking that he wasn’t seeing me in much now.

  ‘Sarah’s a new, fresh talent,’ said Jasper. ‘She brings a truthfulness to the part, a realism.’

  ‘All very well,’ drawled Gretsch, ‘but it’s not bankable.’

  The look Jasper fixed him with made me clench my bottom. I’d seen that look so many times.

  ‘Bankable, Jim? This isn’t Hollywood. I don’t care about casting whoever’s on the front cover of Glamour. I care about the film, about who’s right for the film.’

  ‘The thing about you, Jasper, is that you never listen,’ grumbled Gretsch. ‘Your movies could be box office if you’d just take a tip or two along the way.’

  ‘And compromise my vision in the name of getting corporate sponsorship from Coca-Cola? Fuck that, not to put too fine a point on it.’

  I was a little alarmed. I wasn’t sure this was the way to go about getting the funding he wanted. On the other hand, if it meant I was out of the running for lead actress, I wasn’t going to argue.

  ‘Look,’ I said. ‘It’s fine. If casting Keira Knightley means you get the backing, then cast Keira Knightley. I’m happy with that.’

  ‘If you saw the scenes I’ve blocked out …’

  ‘No.’ I tightened my hand around his forearm. ‘Nobody sees those.’

  I must have been blushing beetroot, because this interested the suit guys, all of whom leaned forward.

  ‘What kind of scenes are they?’ asked the one who hadn’t spoken yet, Ralph.

  ‘This is a period piece, right?’ said Gretsch.

  ‘Right,’ said Jasper. ‘Victorian. A man and a maid.’

  ‘Oh?’ Vijay all but winked at me.

  ‘I’m going to get myself another drink,’ I announced, finding myself unable to stay and listen to Jasper describing the film’s dynamic. I couldn’t just stand there while they all heard about me being whipped and dominated by the man whose arm I held. It was both too embarrassing and too exciting, all at once.

  Jasper didn’t seem to want to let me go, but he could hardly force me to stay, in front of a room full of people.

  I found the nearest circulating tray, took another glass of champagne and tried to hide myself behind a plant arrangement until the conversation was over. I was spotted by an enfant terrible of the art scene, apparently three sheets to the wind already. She pitched up next to me and told me she was dying for a smoke.

  ‘You got any? I gave up. Got one of them electric doodahs but it’s not the same. Come outside for a puff?’

  ‘Sorry, I don’t have any.’

  She made a face. ‘Prob’ly for the best,’ she said. ‘Are you here with that Jasper Jay?’

  ‘Yes. Do you know him?’

  ‘Sort of. He shagged my mate.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Few years ago. She reckons he’s a bit, y’know, between the sheets. Is he?’

  I smiled.

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Ooh, all right for some. Dry spell here. No talent, ’cept your bloke. Where’s all the talent?’

  She wandered off again, only to be replaced by a man wearing shades indoors and a retro lounge suit with pink frilly shirt.

  ‘Don’t mind Shazzer,’ he said. ‘She’s had a few too many.’

  ‘It’s fine. She’s not bothering me.’

  He looked down at my legs; then let his gaze rove in a leisurely way to my breasts. He was still addressing them when he spoke.

  ‘Amazing dress. Did they have to stitch you into it?’

  ‘No.’ I smiled tightly and took another sip of my drink, looking over to Jasper in the hope that my unwelcome conversationalist would get the message and move on.

  ‘Is that who you’re here with? Jasper Jay?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you his latest beard, then?’

  ‘I beg your pardon!’

  ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. But he’s never been seen with the same woman twice. Surely he’s gay?’

  ‘Or just promiscuous.’

  ‘You think? Just a serial shagger?’ The man sounded wistful. ‘Damn shame. Are you sure?’

  This at least raised a smile.

  ‘I’m positive, actually.’

  ‘Oh?’ His eyes widened and he sidled up closer. ‘Really? So you and he …?’

  God, it was mad. Completely mad. Standing here in next-to-nothing at a celebrity party; being questioned about my sex life with a mouth-watering film director.

  Yeah, right. I could hear my school friends laughing, see them rolling their eyes, when I tried to tell them about this at Christmas.

  ‘My lips are sealed,’ I said.

  ‘Except when he’s around,’ said my interrogator, jogging my elbow so my champagne spilled and roaring with laughter.

  Jasper looked over, squinting then frowning, and seemed to make polite excuses to the suit guys.

  ‘Oh, here he is now,’ I said, my heart jumping.

  ‘I’ll be off,’ said the other man. ‘He looks as if he might challenge me to a duel. Pistols at dawn, darling.’

  He scurried off just as Jasper strode up.

  ‘Who’s your friend?’ he asked abruptly.

  ‘He’s not my friend. I’ve no idea who he is.’

  ‘He was after you.’

  ‘I doubt it! More likely that he was after you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Ah. Sorry. I have a little problem with possessiveness. It’s one of the reasons I never get involved with people. Until you.’

  ‘I’m not about to run off with anyone, Jasper. I’m here with you. You’re the one I want.’

  ‘Just as well,’ he said, his tone darkening. He slid an arm around my hip and rubbed my bottom, taking advan
tage of my back being to the wall where nobody could see it. ‘Because I want you. Right. Now. Have you finished that drink?’

  I put it down by the plant pot.

  ‘I have now.’

  ‘Good. Because I’ve done what I came here for. We’re leaving.’

  ‘All ready?’

  ‘I’ve had the photograph and the conversation. Too much champagne gives me a headache and I’m not interested in talking to anyone else.’

  I let my stomach press against his pelvis, feeling the semi-hardness inside his black dress trousers.

  ‘Then let’s go,’ I whispered.

  ‘Oh,’ he said, looking at the room behind him, then pulling me out into the centre of it, laughing and holding me around the waist as if we were dancing. ‘There was one other thing I wanted to do while we’re here. This.’

  My lipstick was doomed. He snogged it right off, kissing for dear life, right there in the middle of the crowd, tongues and teeth all mixed up in the sticky-sweet mess.

  Vaguely I was aware of flashes around us, photographs being taken perhaps. I thought nothing of it at the time – film directors weren’t usually on the front page of the scandal rags, though his acting past might rack up the red-top points. As for me, I was nobody. Sarah Wells. His.

  ‘I suppose nobody’s in any doubt about our relationship now,’ I said, looking down to see my scarcely-covered breasts rise and fall in quick beats.

  ‘No,’ said Jasper, pulling me through the crowd, but not to the exit. ‘And they might not be in much doubt about what I’m going to do to you now.’

  We reached the rear of the marquee, where a flap opened out into the Mayfair square that surrounded it. A group of smokers stood in the rain, but we passed them by and moved towards the railed fringe of the square, hidden behind a variety of shrubs and trees.

  I heard the smokers behind us comparing theories about where we were going. They seemed to have the right idea. The word ‘shag’ floated through the persistent drizzle and I tugged at Jasper’s arm and said, ‘Won’t it be a bit wet?’

  ‘You will be,’ he said, determination in his voice. ‘Here.’

  He stopped in front of a low-hanging tree branch.

  ‘Bend over that,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll get soaked,’ I objected.