by Sarah Veitch
‘Well, he’s a good doctor,’ Lisa replied. She turned to the dressing table to find her keys then found she was blushing. Michael might have told the chauffeur that he’d spanked her - she knew how boastful and macho men could be.
‘I’ll just get my bag,’ she added tightly.
Achille watched as she reached for her purse. ‘You can charge any expenses to Vitality. Dr Landers is well known around the isle.’
‘No. I’m self sufficient. I got a generous advance on my wage.’ Lisa said.
‘We all did. Dr Landers treats his staff well as long as we obey,’ Achille replied softly. Was that a dig at herself and her submission? He seemed like a nice family man, and yet...
‘I obey the rules of good health. I take a holistic approach,’ she answered briskly, checking that she had her keys and her Maltese money.
‘Whole...? This word I don’t know,’ the chauffeur mumbled, standing in her doorway and moving from foot to foot.
‘Holistic - means I look at the whole package. Not just a patient’s symptoms but his mindset, background and diet,’ Lisa said. She closed her door and set off down the stairs behind the older man, was aware that she’d sounded unappreciative and churlish in her efforts to seem dominant. Now she felt awkward and guilty. These seemed to be the main emotions she experienced here. Guilt and... well, a shamed but persistent excitement. A groin-based nervousness about what could happen next.
Driving Siska home was what was going to happen next. Throughout the road-twisting journey she praised Dr Michael Landers.
‘She’s his biggest fan,’ Achille grinned when the woman finally left the car.
‘Maybe she’s got a crush on him.’ Lisa joked back. She tensed up her shoulders as Achille stared coolly at her. That had been a cheap jibe to make.
‘He’s made her feel better. She’s grateful. That’s all,’ the chauffeur explained.
‘I’m sure she is.’ That sounded even worse. Where Michael Landers was concerned, it was hard for Lisa to sound neutral. He was just so bloody inscrutable, sometimes made her feel unsure of her essential self. Yet at other times he’d praised her character and her work, and obviously meant it. He wasn’t one of those women-are-merely-decorative men.
‘Malta has many beautiful Churches,’ Achille murmured with a shy sideways glance. That was an obvious cue as to where he wanted to drive her. As he edged the car out on to the quiet road, Lisa decided to take the bait.
‘I’d love to see them.’ She hoped that he wouldn’t expect her to cross herself or take part in any ceremony. She respected others rights to their belief system, but it wasn’t for her.
‘I suppose there are lots of weddings performed here,’ she continued as the chauffeur pointed out two chapels in quick succession. Then she shivered slightly at her own choice of words. Years ago she’d been married in a Church and it had ended in disaster. What on earth had made her think of such formal ceremonies now? She and Reece had already decided on a low key Registrar’s service with just two witnesses and a couple of other close friends.
Achille looked at her strangely as he turned the wheel. ‘You think that you and your boyfriend marry here?’
‘I... no.’ She realised that she’d been wondering if Michael had ever married on the island. Sucked in her breath - she might as well assuage her curiosity. She had to know. ‘I believe that you’re the only married member of staff, Achille?’
Achille peeped at two other drivers. When his reply came it was somewhat non-committal. ‘I have a wife.’
That wasn’t the information she desired. ‘And has... has Dr Landers ever had a wife?’
The chauffeur smiled to himself as he drove round yet another corner. ‘Not that I’m aware of. No.’
Lisa looked out of the window, keeping her eyes and mouth impassive. Still, she felt her spirits lift. ‘So he’s opted to remain a single man.’
The chauffeur gave her a darting sideways glance. ‘He has had many girlfriends.’
‘Never wanted to make it legal?’
‘No.’ The chauffeur stared into her eyes, and his gaze was knowing. ‘I think he has yet to find one who likes the same things.’
One who likes being dragged over a knee. One who likes having her panties pulled down and her buttocks reddened. Lisa thought of Jamilla being caned. ‘I’m sure he’s spoilt for choice with such an attractive female staff,’ she murmured, pinkening.
‘Desire and love - they’re different,’ the chauffeur replied.
Michael clearly desired her - she’d felt his erection digging into the soft curve of her belly. And if she was honest, she half-wanted him to take her in his arms, take her to his bed.
But he probably used his bed as a whipping post. He’d want to tie her arms and legs to its respective sides then lift up her skirt and use his belt on her creamy bottom. He’d want to tease her with his knowing fingers or with a sex toy before he’d let her come. Lisa sighed. Just experiencing his innate authority and sexual magnetism was enough for her. She didn’t need erotic chastisement as well. And if her fantasies were more and more that way... well, she didn’t have to act on them. They could remain safely inside her head whilst she used her busy fingers on her hungry clit.
Maybe it was time to flirt with the man in a conventional way? Back at Vitality, Lisa rifled through her wardrobe in search of something alluring. Impatiently she pushed aside her casual cotton shorts and printed T-shirts. She intended to dress for dinner with especial care. Pretending to be impervious to his charms hadn’t worked, so she’d try a different more seductive tactic. Would use her body language to acknowledge the attraction between them, and try to see their non-working relationship as a flirtatious game.
After refreshing her flesh with a lavender-oil bath, Lisa donned her crushed velvet midnight blue dress. Then she added a plaited gold chain which shone rich and assured against her lightly tanned decollatage. She looked healthy and attractive, even if she couldn’t rival some of the raven-haired Maltese beauties she’d seen.
Dinner was the usual conversationally-relaxed affair. Was she the only one who felt tense, waiting for something to happen? Lisa ate half of the delicious paella, but her mind wasn’t on her meal. Maybe Michael sensed that, for afterwards he leaned closer to her. ‘It’s still early. I sometimes take my car to the Casino. Perhaps you’d like to join me there tonight?’
Lisa hesitated. She looked at the others. They were talking amongst themselves, not paying her any attention. ‘Sure, it’ll make a nice change,’ she said. The twenty-eight year old was determined to keep her voice casual to the point of nonchalance. She didn’t want him to know that she was pleased. ‘I’ll just get changed,’ she added, wondering if a full length gown was required. She’d never been to a casino before.
‘Please, don’t. You look beautiful as you are.’ He glanced at his own dove grey suit. ‘They have a strict dress code there.’ He looked at her more intently as she swigged down her fifth glass of white wine and accepted a refill from Jamilla. ‘They also have exacting standards in the gaming rooms. No loud voices. No distractions. No drunkenness.’
‘Me? Loud?’ Lisa laughed, then hiccupped a little bit, and started in on her sixth brimming glass.
‘As long as you follow protocol,’ Michael Landers continued, coming round to her side to pull out her chair for her. ‘Otherwise you’ll find that they’re not the only ones who are strict.’
They drove through a surprisingly lively part of Malta to reach the casino. ‘This part of the island is known as St Julian’s,’ Michael Landers said. Lisa stared out at the cafes, bars and late night shops. She winced at the loud disco music blaring from each pub, but gazed entranced at the denim and leather-clad young holidaymakers. She’d show Michael that she wasn’t stuffy, that she didn’t have a care.
‘Looks like a girl could have a fun time here,’ she murmured, casting him a sideways glance.
‘I must come back here on my own some day.’
‘I suppose if you want to slum it,’ he answered tightly. Lisa stared drunkenly at the youthful male bottoms and muscled torsos. At the moment she just wanted to get laid.
They parked. She walked shakily up the steps to the Casino. Michael signed her in. ‘Have a nice evening, Dr Landers,’ the doorman said deferentially.
Michael put his right hand on Lisa’s elbow. ‘I hope to,’ he murmured in her ear as she swayed.
‘Me too,’ Lisa said light-headedly. She was suddenly conscious of each erotic pathway in her bare arm. Was it his nearness that was making her feel so dazed, making it difficult to think? They walked into the huge blue gaming hall. Lisa looked around it then made her way towards a second doorway. ‘Oh good,’ she said, belatedly aware that her voice sounded excitedly high and childish. ‘A Cocktail Lounge.’
‘Don’t you think you had enough to drink at dinner?’ Michael Landers asked, coming to stand by her side and again taking her elbow.
‘Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be going up to the bar right now,’ Lisa answered snappishly. Who the hell did Michael Landers think he was - her minder? She wasn’t some weak-willed alcoholic about to fall off the wagon, for goodness sake. Lisa glared at her boss then squinted at the drinks list for long moments. ‘Um, bartender, I’ll have a Velvet Hammer, please,’ she said. Velvet Hammer. The words sounded vaguely obscene and arousing as she rolled them across her tongue.
‘Make mine a non-alcoholic wine,’ Michael said. ‘I gave Achille the night off, so I’m driving.’ He listened to the man’s query. ‘Yes, he and his wife are fine.’
‘I met his wife today - she looked happy,’ Lisa cut in breezily, then she hiccupped again.
‘They have the ideal relationship,’ the doctor murmured in her ear. ‘He’s her master at night and she’s in charge during the day.’
Lisa felt the spread of heat to her face and rush of lust to her clit at his unsubtle inference. Suddenly she needed that drink.
The bartender brought a white frothy cocktail over to her on a tray. It tasted refreshingly cool. It went down quickly. Lisa waved the drinks list at a passing waiter. ‘I’ll have a Pink Blossom this time.’ She turned to Michael. ‘It says it’s got grenadine, cream, Benedictine and Malibu. Can’t be bad.’
‘Does it really?’ Michael’s jaw tightened. ‘I thought you rarely drank.’
‘Hell, it’s a gaming parlour. Why not bet that I can hold down six of these?’ Lisa said in her most provocative voice. She fixed her grey green eyes challengingly on his equally unflinching hazel ones, then felt slightly disappointed when he shook his head and got into conversation with the man next to him. After finishing the Pink Blossom and ordering and drinking a Tequila Sunrise, she tugged at his sleeve. ‘Mike - let’s play a game.’
Most of the tables were occupied. They walked past each till they found two unoccupied chairs, two spare places for players. Lisa gazed dazedly around at the sumptuous blue furniture, blue carpet and blue ceiling. ‘Matches my dress,’ she said giddily.
‘Sssh,’ Michael murmured. She watched his long fingers curl into his hard large palms.
Going to spank me? she thought, and felt new heat rush to the curve between her stockinged legs.
Michael bought her a high stack of gaming chips. Lisa reached out but her fingers felt thicker and more numbed than usual, so that she dropped several of the disks onto the carpet. ‘Just do what I do,’ Michael said tightly, picking up the chips.
‘What about when it comes to urinating?’ Lisa giggled. The croupier stared at her expressionlessly. Was he yet another cane-wielding dominant man? She looked slowly around. Why weren’t there any female croupiers in charge of the tables? She’d soon show them that women were equal to men. The chandelier lights seemed to blur together as she followed Michael’s lead and accepted a card.
‘Look for sequences with lots of high or low cards going out so that you can assess what’s left,’ he instructed softly.
‘Maybe if I ask the croupier especially nicely he’ll just tell me,’ Lisa said. She leaned closer to the card-dealer so that her low cut dress showed more of her deep dark cleavage. The man stared for a second then looked just as quickly away.
‘Got this down to a fine art, Mike, have you?’ she asked, giving Michael Landers a wink.
The doctor shrugged lightly. ‘Well, I’ve studied the law of large numbers.’
‘Mm, I’m very partial to a large number myself,’ Lisa said. Part of her was monitoring her own words, was appalled by their crassness. The other part just thought what the hell.
‘I’ve just thought of a large number of my own. It involves your bare bum and a cane,’ Michael said into her ear. The room seemed to still. Lisa could hear her own accelerating heartbeat. A public caning? Even he wouldn’t dare.
‘Stay there,’ Michael ordered. Legs weak with desire, she remained in her seat, staring at the gaming table. Did the croupier know what Dr Landers had just said to her, what he’d threatened to do? She shifted uneasily on her bum, and wished that she’d worn thicker panties. Wished that she hadn’t been quite so loud.
Ten minutes later, he returned. ‘Come with me,’ he said firmly, gripping the top part of her arm.
‘And if I don’t?’ She looked challengingly up into his strong sure features.
‘If you don’t,’ he continued easily, ‘I’ll bare your bottom here in front of all these strangers and they can watch you begging for mercy as I use my cane.’
‘You wouldn’t,’ Lisa muttered. Then she flinched as he reached for the knee-length hem of her velvet dress. ‘Alright,’ she added gutturally, ‘where are you taking me?’
‘To the Salle Prive - that’s private salon to you. It’s for personal functions.’ He tightened his grip until she got to her feet and stood, swaying. ‘You, me and my trusty punisher are going to have a little party of our own.’
‘You wish,’ Lisa countered. Her voice sounded unsteady and thick. Her thighs had turned liquid. She felt her labial leaves tingle and swell. She had to put up a fight, she told herself. She had to show this man she wasn’t a pushover. But even as her mind searched for insults she allowed herself to be led through the main hall of the casino towards yet another door.
It led into a large empty suite. One of the ornate tables already held a slender rattan with an ornate curved handle. Silently, the doctor pointed to it.
‘You brought it with you?’ the herbalist said, trying to force scorn rather than lust into her voice. ‘Christ, you’re presumptuous.’
‘I always keep a cane in the boot of the car. One never knows when one may need to use it on a disobedient arse.’
‘Doesn’t one?’ Lisa sneered. ‘Well, one’s not using it now.’
‘You’d rather leave my employ?’ Dr Landers asked. He sounded surprised.
‘No, I like...’ Love working at Vitality, love Malta she acknowledged to herself.
‘Then surely its better to submit to a thrashing?’ her impassive boss queried as they faced each other in the centre of the room.
‘Couldn’t you just fine me?’ Lisa shot back. She had a feeling that she’d used the line before, but her brain felt fogged with wanting. She was getting off on the thought of being caned, even if she didn’t want to experience the actual pain.
‘I find a short sharp shock to the seat is much more effective,’ Michael Landers answered. Lisa blushed. Resolutely she turned away from the long slender punisher. ‘You may as well get accustomed to it,’ her employer continued. ‘It’s about to connect ten times with your naked arse.’
‘Ten strokes?’ Lisa echoed through a drink-induced haze.
‘That sounds fair, doesn’t it?’ Michael Landers parried. ‘I mean, by being drunk you’ve lowered my reputation here. You have to pay.’
Lisa’s face and female parts heated some more. She
was determined to hide her arousal.
‘But the cane really hurts,’ she said, meaning it.
‘You’ve had your bum warmed by it before?’ the doctor asked.
Damn. She’d have to be more careful about what she said to this bastard. ‘No, I watched you cane Jamilla,’ she admitted reluctantly.
Her boss nodded. ‘Then I’d have thought you’d have tried harder to avoid a similar sore arse.’ He indicated the table. ‘But as you haven’t, you’d better get your belly over there and accept what’s due to you.’
Lisa stared at the dining area then at the slender rage of the rattan. Trepidation rippled through her. She cleared her throat and forced herself to make eye contact. ‘But what if someone comes in?’
‘It’s unlikely. I’ve told them we want a quiet meeting in here with supper served in two hours time.’
Lisa looked automatically at her watch. Surely he wasn’t going to chastise her for two whole hours? Maybe he planned to make love to her after she’d been thrashed. She was so hot of crotch and nipple and belly she’d probably submit.
‘Can’t take two hours to dole out ten cane strokes,’ she muttered truculently.
‘No, that’s allowing time for extra punishment in case you’re rude or forget to count each stripe,’ her employer answered. He started to unknot his tie. ‘Do you want your wrists tied in front of you or behind your back?’ he asked conversationally.
Neither, Lisa thought, feeling hugely conscious of her tender hemispheres. Suddenly she wanted to protect them with both hands and run far away. But she’d agreed to accept this caning in return for remaining on Malta, so she had to obey.
‘Do what you like,’ she said with a last show of defiance.
‘Oh, I intend to,’ her employer said, picking up the long slim rod. He ran it through his fingers, then set it down and took hold of her slender wrists. ‘We’ll tie them in front, I think. After all, we don’t want to pain your arms - just your bottom.’
