Sebastian - Dark Bonds

by Janey Rosen

  “Look at this differently,” he steeples his fingers under his chin and frowns in concentration. “You need a dominant man …”

  “Why do I?” I interject and he scowls at me.

  “Don’t interrupt. You need a dominant man, Elizabeth, so that you can be freed from the pressures and stress of your life. You’ve struggled for years. You’ve been married to a weak man and you’ve compensated for his weakness by becoming the patriarch of your family. The time has come for you to defer to me in all things, so that you can rediscover who Elizabeth Dove really is. Give yourself to me, and you’ll find a freedom which is unimaginable.” He pauses and looks me in the eye. His words strike a chord. He’s very astute.

  “You know me too well, Sebastian. If I’m totally honest with myself, I am tired. I really am. It would be heaven to have a strong man to tell me what to do, agreed. But, and it’s a big ‘but’, I’ve never been told what to do and I’m not sure that I’d be very good at taking orders or being submissive.”

  “Would you like to try?”

  “What does it entail? Can we talk about the punishment aspect? What do you mean when you talk about pain?” This is a huge worry for me.

  “Nothing you can’t cope with. To begin with, you will undoubtedly defy me and be a pain in my ass,” he’s smirking at me. “Therefore, I’ll ensure that you have a pain in your ass – probably by flogger or crop.” A what?

  “You’d beat my backside?” I ask, wide-eyed. Oh why does that send a tingle to the apex of my legs? Crossing my legs, I squeeze my thighs together, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Sebastian, who smiles knowingly.

  “Yes,” he confirms. “It’ll smart, but it will be bearable. You’ll be punished when you’re disrespectful toward me or break the rules. I won’t enjoy punishing you Elizabeth and you won’t enjoy it either. I’ll always explain the reason I’m punishing you so that you understand not to break the rules again. There will be other times when you’ll be whipped, or chained, purely for my pleasure – not as a punishment. You will enjoy making me happy and that, in turn will make you happy.”

  This is all so confusing.

  “Are you going to punish me now?” Remembering how riled he’d been in the kitchen over dinner, he will no doubt take me over his knee right now. I hope?

  “No I’m not. Don’t focus on the punishment. In general, what I will impart to you will be discipline. I will transform you not only into what I’d like you to be, but what I believe will enhance you as a person, Elizabeth. I want you to think about what I’ve asked of you. If you commit to this, then I expect to see a change in you immediately – and any slips in your behaviour will be punished from now on. There are many other aspects of this that we need to discuss too. For example, you don’t cross your legs when I’m in the room.” What the hell?

  “That would be because…?” You’re a loony control freak.

  “Because, as my submissive, your legs are open to me at any time and by crossing your legs you are signalling that they are closed to me. You are closed to me. That is unacceptable.” His eyebrow is cocked again, daring me to challenge him.

  “I’ll try and remember. What else?”

  “You avert your eyes when we’re in this room or the outer chamber. You don’t look me in the eyes.” Weirder by the second… Outer chamber? The wine cellar?

  “Isn’t that a little extreme?” Scarlett doesn’t look him in the eye. The thought jars me. Are they lovers, she his submissive? Or have they been in the past? It seems certain to me that this is the case and I intend to get to the bottom of this in due course.

  “No, Elizabeth. It’s normal procedure that submissives do not look their Master in the eye. By averting their eyes they are showing their Dom that they are subdued and subservient and showing respect. I’ll cut you some slack, however, in the rest of the house. Down here it’s a different story. Understand so far?”

  “Most of it,” I say quietly. I’m shocked and turned on in equal measure. “I’d like to try, Sebastian.”

  “I knew you would,” he states coldly, arrogantly. “It may put your mind at rest to know that the mantra in this lifestyle is safe, consensual and sane. We’ll discuss safe words another time.”

  “Why are you like this?” What’s happened to you in your past? What’s made you this way?

  “It’s who I am, who I’ve always been. Since I was a young boy and used to be turned on watching the school bully in action.” There’s a distance between us now.

  “Was Libby submissive?” I ask. He blanches and I see his eyes darken as I steal a glance at him.

  “Libby couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle me,” he replies sharply, his voice full of recrimination. “You’re different. Not as fucked up as she was.” Christ, he’s talking about his late wife with such malice. Maybe it’s you who fucked her up.

  Rising abruptly to his feet, he holds out a hand to me. I take it in mine, and follow as Sebastian leads me from this bizarre little room and I pray that he won’t hurt me – I have suffered enough pain. As he turns the key in the lock and we leave the inner chamber, I have a feeling that nothing is going to be quite the same again.

  14

  Blinking, my eyes adjust to the early morning light which streams through the folds of the heavy velour curtains. I’m hot - Sebastian is spooning me, his leg lying heavily over my hip. It takes me a few seconds to realise that I’m not at home. I’m at Penmorrow and everything feels different. I feel different.

  Thoughts of last night’s bizarre experience whoosh back into my head. I need some air to clear my head and some time to myself to think through Sebastian’s proposal. Proposal! It couldn’t be further from a marriage proposal. Be his submissive … his slave? Lose all sense of being me? But then again, maybe he’s right; perhaps this new role will enable me to start living again. Isn’t he all the things that Alan wasn’t? Self-assured, confident, sexy, attentive, handsome, rich, bossy, weird … I need some air.

  Rolling gently away from Sebastian, his leg flops onto the sheet and he stirs. Don’t wake up. He turns over and his slow, shallow breathing tells me he’s still asleep. Standing by the side of the bed, in the dappled light, I admire my handsome man. My Master! Even sleeping his black messed up hair, speckled with grey, his wide chiselled jaw and muscular arm and back send sparks coursing through my body. My head fills with an image of being pinned beneath his powerful body, unable to move, entirely at his mercy to do what he will. The sparks intensify. What are you doing to me?

  Sebastian wakes and sits up, rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. Those sexy, dark eyes which pierce through mine and look directly into my soul. I avert my gaze and look down at my hands.

  “Hey beautiful, good morning,” he purrs sweetly. So at odds with what I now know him to be.

  “Good morning. I’m sorry I woke you,” I say contritely.

  “What time is it?” He’s reaching for his watch on the nightstand. “Jesus Elizabeth, it’s only 6.30am. Can’t you sleep?”

  “No. I wanted to take a walk to look at the sea, get some fresh air. Go back to sleep.” Reaching across the bed I plant a light kiss on his bare shoulder. He growls sexily and before I can straighten up, he grabs me around the waist and pulls me down onto the bed. His mouth finds mine and his kiss is forceful, his hand moving to cup my breast. I’m naked which is how Sebastian requested I sleep last night. My nipple hardens instantly under his touch.

  “Mrs. Dove, I do believe you’re pleased to see me this morning,” he murmurs as he rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Mmm you have no idea …

  He pushes the duvet away from him so that it falls to the floor in a heap. My eyes travel down his body and hungrily view his erection, which has risen up proudly to bid me good morning.

  “Lord De Montfort, I do believe you are pleased to see me,” echoing his words, my hand encompasses his hardness. He inhales sharply as my hand moves to his scrotum and squeezes firmly.

  “Are you trying to unman m
e, Mrs. Dove?” He grasps my wrist and removes my hand and, in one swift movement, he has me pinned beneath him on the bed. He straddles me with each of his knees restricting one of my arms so that I can’t move. Like a trapped animal, my eyes dart around, trying to think of a way to wriggle free.

  “Don’t even think about it, darling,” he warns, his mouth set with a smirk, his eyes burning with desire and power.

  “Sebastian. I wanted a walk. Alone.” I’m wriggling beneath him and my knee comes up, involuntarily, to nudge him sharply in the back. He sucks in his breath, an initial look of shock turning to a much darker expression now. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

  “I’m sorry!” I exclaim futilely. He’s simmering, about to explode. What have I unleashed?

  “Oh you will be,” he growls.

  “I said sorry,” my apology is that of a child, he’s grinning now – a wicked smile, reflecting something much darker than humour.

  “I do believe you’ve just broken the rules, Elizabeth,” he hisses through his smirking mouth.

  “Rules? I recall only a couple of rules being imparted to me last night and neither covered escaping from or kneeing you.” Oh, Beth. Learn to keep your mouth shut.

  “And yet another rule broken. Keep going. Its such a treat to be able to punish you so soon after our arrangement has begun.” His grin widens.

  I’m still trapped beneath him, only now he lifts his knees and grips my wrists with his strong hands, his body heavy, skin glistening with a film of sweat. I smell his power, his masculinity and have never felt as vulnerable as I do right now. Fight or flight, which shall I do? He takes that decision from me; in one fluid movement, he sits back onto his heels, pulling me up by my arms as he does so. Swinging his legs around, over the edge of the bed I find myself heaved across his lap, my legs on the bed, my midriff across his lap and my upper body hanging down toward the floor. In this position it is impossible for me to break loose. Holy crap! What’s he going to do to me?

  “I told you last night that I would explain why I am going to punish you,” his voice is stern, cold and detached.

  “So that you understand what it is you have done to displease me and so that you know not to do it again,” he continues. “So, Elizabeth, do you know what you have done wrong?” I’m hanging over your bloody lap it’s hardly the time for a chat about my misdemeanors.

  “I told you I wanted to go for a walk. It’s not my fault you rugby tackled me on the bed,” I reply, and clearly that is not the answer he was seeking. He sighs, loudly.

  “Number one: you fail to talk to me with respect. Number two: you fought to get free from me. Number three: you kneed me in the back, causing me pain. Number four you didn’t ask me if you could go for a walk. Do you understand that none of those behaviours are commensurate with submission?” His voice still cold, his words spoken in a monotone and dictatorial manner.

  “Yes,” I hiss back at him, the blood now rushing to my head.

  “Yes? Yes what?” Double crap, now the venom has returned to his voice. I’ve made him madder than ever.

  “Yes Sir. Now can you please pull me up, my arms are going numb and I’ve got blood rush,” I whine.

  “You don’t seem to be grasping the point I am making so I will demonstrate my point instead.” He twists on the bed so that my legs fall to the floor and my upper body now rests on the bed. Better.

  “Thank you Sir,” the sarcasm in my voice is met with a further sigh.

  “Because you have to learn cause and effect, and clearly you can’t understand these verbalized, I’m going to deliver six hard slaps to your beautiful behind. You will count after each slap. When I reach six, you will apologise and mean it.” I wriggle but he has me firmly pinned, my buttocks exposed and waiting for their hiding. I feel a plethora of emotions – humiliated, angry, fearful, aroused, and the arousal shocks me. I feel like laughing but also crying.

  Slap. “Count Elizabeth or I’ll add six more.”

  “One,” Ouch! That stings. How humiliating.

  Slap. “Two.”

  Slap. “Three.” I bite my lip, hard.

  Slap. “Four,” I’m going to cry.

  Slap. “Five. Goddam it Sebastian.”

  Slap. “Aagh,” That was harder than the rest. That really hurt.

  “Number six was in response to your cursing after number five. Cause and affect Elizabeth. You’ve forgotten my apology?”

  “I … I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry,” I sob.

  “Sorry what?” For fucksake, I’m sorry I ever came here.

  “Sorry. Sir.” I sniff, wiping my nose with the back of my hand as he helps me to sit on the bed beside him. I don’t want to be near him. I want to run away from him. This is the monster I fled to in my quest for peace after all I’ve been through losing my son and my husband. What have I done? I’ve bought Bella to this house. It’s not just me, I’ve done this to her too – bought her to this house of weirdness and depravity. The worse thing of all that I’m most ashamed of is that I was aroused. Of course that was before it hurt. Before he so callously beat me, so coldly, for something so trivial. I need to get away. Where will I go - home? To my house, which holds such painful memories?

  “Penny for them,” says Sebastian, handing me a tissue from the nightstand. I don’t want to talk to him. Hell, if I say the wrong thing, he’ll beat me again.

  “I’m going to get dressed and I need that walk,” my voice is little more than a whisper. My buttocks are smarting - it’s sore sitting down. “Is that ok?” I ask as an afterthought.

  “Yes, it’s fine. I’ll come with you.”

  “No. Thank you but I need some time alone,” he’s quiet, pensive and so difficult to read.

  “Elizabeth don’t hate me,” his voice is reticent, gone is the dominance, replaced with insecurity, remorse?

  “I don’t hate you. I just don’t understand you, why you’d want to hurt someone you care about … presuming you do care?” He takes my hand in his and strokes my palm.

  “I care more than you know. That’s why I want you to trust me with this. Everything I do, I do for your own good. In time you’ll see that,” he’s more deluded than I gave him credit for.

  “I don’t see that. I see you abusing a woman who is vulnerable, who’s been through a traumatic five months and who came to Penmorrow as a place of safety. To find peace and tranquillity, instead you’ve turned it into something sordid and dark.” Wiping the tears from my eyes, I stand and walk to the chaise at the foot of the bed, removing the bathrobe, which is strewn across, and shrugging it on.

  “We need to discuss your feelings, Elizabeth. What you feel is normal, you’re learning and some of the lessons are hard, painful but you’ve not yet experienced the pleasure and the sense of freedom. Give it time. Give me time, let me lead you.” He stands and paces over to me, reaching for me, but I step back toward the bathroom door.

  “I’m going for a walk. Please just leave me, I don’t want to talk about it any more,” I plead.

  “Fine,” he runs his hands through his hair, seemingly at a loss to know what to say to me. “You’ve got thirty minutes until breakfast. Please be back by then.”

  “You’re still telling me what to do!” I exclaim.

  “Half an hour.” He turns and, grabbing his robe from the hook behind the bedroom door, he leaves the room. Aghast, I collect my clothes and lock myself in the bathroom. I have no intention of returning in thirty minutes.

  15

  Freshly bathed and wearing jeans and a long sleeved tee shirt and pumps, I make my way to Bella’s room. Sebastian has allocated Bella the room in which I stayed for the ‘Women In Business’ team-building weekend last winter. It was my first visit to Penmorrow, where I met Sebastian, and I have fond memories of that room. It’s a beautiful room with antique half tester bed and gold damask comforter, and fabulously high, corniced ceilings. It’s too grand for a teenage girl to appreciate, especially Bella. Knocking I enter and am pleased to see that she’s awake, busy on her
tablet.

  “Mum. Good morning, what’s up?” She can see that my face is blotchy from crying.

  “Oh nothing, just missing Joe,” which is of course the truth but not in its entirety. “I thought I’d take my daughter out for breakfast,” I smile, belying my feelings.

  “I miss him too Mum. Is Sebastian coming with us?” she asks hopefully.

  “No. I thought it would be nice to have some mother-daughter time. It’s been ages. Maybe, after breakfast we could hit the shops, that’s if we can find any out here in the sticks.”

  “Sounds like a plan Stan. Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you down in the kitchen,” she climbs from her bed and pads to the bathroom, scooping up black leggings and gypsy top from the floor as she passes. “Give me five minutes.”

  “I’ll wait here for you,” I do not want to face Sebastian in the kitchen, knowing that there will be hell to pay if he knows that my plans have changed and don’t include him and I don’t need his damned permission.

  Bella and I manage to leave Penmorrow without being seen. Thankfully, Bella hasn’t realized that we are fugitives on the run – albeit for a couple of hours. The drive to into Padstow takes fifteen minutes and is a spectacularly scenic journey. The narrow lanes wind through tiny hamlets and past acres of woodland and the smell of the sea is always just a breath away. It’s picture postcard perfect. The village is sizeable for the area. We park up outside the largest of three pubs but it looks closed.

  “Damn, its so early,” looking at my watch I realise it’s still only eight fifteen. Spotting a newsagent across the road I venture inside and ask the aged proprietor where we can find an eatery for breakfast.

  “Come with me, lover,” he says in his broad West Country dialect. Pushing me back outside the shop door, he points to the far end of the high street, if one can call it that. “Go a yonder up there and you’ll find ‘Dick’s Transport Café,’ he’ll be open and ‘e does a cracking breakfast pasty,” he scurries back into the shop and slams the door behind him. I wonder if we have in fact, been teleported by time travel machine back to the nineteenth century.