by Olivia Fox
Lily’s head snapped upright as Ana dashed in looking back over her shoulder, then closed the door silently behind her. Lily looked on, open mouthed and red-faced, the remains of her orgasm still pulsing through her.
“I’m sorry - you’re still busy - but Cayley says she’s been looking all round for you,” Ana said, “I told her I sent you on an errand, but I think you had better show up soon.”
Breathe Lily, just breathe, she told herself. What’s another little orgasm between friends?! She straightened herself up, grabbed her clothes from their various locations about the room and dashed behind the screen, pealing off the dress as modestly as she could - though the irony of that modesty wasn’t lost on her. She emerged ruffled, but in her own clothes, and looked to the PC to bid her honey a quick goodbye.
His face was a picture, clearly loving every moment of Lily’s discomposure. “Give yourself a minute - you look like you’ve just had sex.”
“Whose fault is that?” said Ana, linking arms with Lily, and smirking at the PC as she reached out her free hand. “She’ll call you later,” she told the grinning Lord Harper.
And with the press of a button he was gone.
18
“What’s the time - am I late?” Lily whispered as they scurried down the corridor.
“Half two. Don’t worry. Just say you’ve been moving furniture in my private quarters,” Ana laughed. Then pausing to look at Lily, changed her mind, “Second thoughts, say nothing. I think you’re a poor liar. I’ll do the talking.”
Ana launched into her monologue the moment they joined Cayley. “Here she is! My fault! My fault entirely. I hope you’ll forgive me. And I’m afraid Lily already looks a little exhausted from moving my possessions. Feel free to charge extra if I’ve asked too much, my husband will pay for any additional services your staff have had to undertake.” Lily looked knowingly at Ana. Oh sure, she thought. Hilarious.
“No, that’s fine - thank you,” Cayley said, a little clipped, but clearly keen to keep ‘the client’ happy. She then called to Gav and Rob who were shifting the remaining furniture out into the entrance hall, “Guys, whenever you’re ready, let’s get that floor down. OK?”
Their assenting grunts told Lily they’d already had an earful of Cayley today, and she immediately joined them to help with the donkey work.
It was a long day’s slog (bar a little Internet sex) but the end result was stunning. The chequered floor and eccentric furnishings transformed the dining room into an entirely other-worldly space; the entrance hall’s golden thrones were wonderfully over the top; all the rooms, including the guest rooms, were decorated with dramatic wall hangings; the entire manor felt stooped in Venetian splendor.
A job well done, the team loaded their tools, themselves, and a tonne of packaging, back into the Bellevue van. Only when they were just about to leave, did Grayson show up, pulling up alongside them in his glistening coupe. He waved and climbed out as Rob rolled down his window.
“Excellent - did I miss all the hard work?” he said, winking over at Cayley.
Cayley neatened her already neat hair. “We coped,” she said.
“Course you did. Hey, Lily - did you manage to do that thing I asked you?”
Lily gulped. Here we go again. What was Grayson Paige up to this time, she wondered. “Remind me again - what was it?”
Grayson rolled his eyes, “With the flowers? You forgot didn’t you?! Would you mind? We can get you home again after?” Though the situation, to anyone’s judgment, must have looked highly suspicious, Grayson’s face was the very personification of honesty.
Lily looked from confused Cayley to brazen Grayson and figured whatever he was up to, she’d better find out. “Uh, yeah - sure - sorry, I forgot,” she said, slightly less convincing than her dashing lawyer friend. She climbed out of the van, and slammed the side-door shut. “Cayley, guys, I’ll see you Monday…”
As the van kicked up the gravel on Hatherly’s long driveway, Lily followed Grayson back indoors.
“Never take up lying for a living, will you honey?” He said, before reaching back to put his arm around her shoulders.
Lily decided to take that as a compliment. She wasn’t big into lying anyhow. In fact, Grayson’s ability to lie with such ease, was darn right unnerving. “So, what’s going on,” she asked. “And where’ve you been all day?”
“Man! Do you know how suspicious you sound?” He laughed. “I've been to work. My other job. And I'm not doing anything. Just thought you might wanna hang out a while. But if you don't then -”
Guilt was Lily’s default setting, and it didn’t take much to trigger it, though this time she suspected Grayson was trying to use her good nature against her. She put the guilt on hold. “I do - I just thought - I don't know -”
“What?”
They stopped, right bang smack in the centre of the entrance hall. “I guess I thought maybe you'd been doing something Tom-related,” Lily said.
A look of understanding dawned on his face. “Ah. No, nothings happened on the Tom front, but I promise you'll know when it does,” he said. Then seeing Lily’s less than convinced expression, reiterated, “I promise.”
“Lily, you're still here!” Ana announced, descending the stairs.
Grayson pulled Lily even closer. “We're spending some quality time together - aren't we Lily!” It was a statement, not a question.
“You're going to show her round the dungeon?” Asked Ana, as though this were the most natural thing in the world.
“Uh-huh.”
Lily unhooked herself from Grayson’s arm, gaping at him. “Oh sure, and you wonder why I act suspicious?!”
Grayson merely shrugged. “Just an innocent little tour of the equipment. Where’s the harm?”
“Right, sure,” she laughed. No way, Jose.
“It’s just so you know what to expect tomorrow night,” Grayson explained, offering Lily his hand. She didn’t take it, and he slowly withdrew, cartoonishly crestfallen. “Well you don't have to, of course, but you may find yourself drawn down here, and it doesn't hurt to be prepared. Well, not much.”
Lily’s eyes widened. What the hell did he have in store for tomorrow?! “Care to explain?!” she asked.
Ana ignored Lily, clearly understanding the situation fairly well, and spoke solely to Grayson, “Well be gentle. She won’t want marks on her tomorrow. Christoph won’t like that either.”
“What the fuck?!”
Grayson didn’t ask politely this time; he reached out and grabbed Lily’s hand, telling Ana, “OK, we’re going - before you scare her away for good!” then marching Lily off down the corridor.
“Marks? Christoph?!” Yelped Lily, dragging her heels.
“A friend - a client friend - who wants to meet you. Don’t panic. I’m just going to walk you through the range of invigorating options available to the discerning hedonist…”
Lily dug in her heals and refused to be budged while she spoke. “You can talk me through them,” she said, looking Grayson straight in the eye, trying to sound like she meant business. Yes, the guy was sexy, and yes, she’d been given plenty of encouragement to experiment, but it had been one hell of a day, and she was quite sure she wasn’t in the mood to be chained up and whipped right now. Or ever for that matter.
He nodded, a deliberately unconvincing nod which said, ‘We’ll see,” and against her better judgment, she began walking again.
Grayson opened the door to the dungeon steps, switched on the dim lights, then stood back letting Lily go down first. When they reached the warm leather-clad dungeon, Grayson clunked the lower-level door behind him, threw hims arms wide and all but yelled ‘ta-da’.
"Where to start? Preferences?"
Lily’s brow tightened. "You know, Cayley’s already gone through all this with me."
His mouth flew open in delighted disbelief. "Cayley, huh? And did you guys try any of it out?"
Jesus. What a thought. "Course not," she said, but a giggle lingered
beneath her sober tone. "Still, I think I've got it all pretty much sussed," she said. She really wasn’t trying to show off. Lily’s main goal was to get this dungeon stuff over and done with as quickly as possible. She wanted to know who in God’s name this Christoph character was, but she was fairly certain she wouldn’t be letting him near her currently unblemished backside.
"Then please - go ahead - show me around," he said.
"Fine - see - I know that’s a St Andrew’s Cross,” she nodded toward a large X-shaped wooden cross with attached shackles, “- bit melodramatic, but hey - takes all sorts… and - well - here we have two kinky little benches, the horsey thing -" she prodded a the simple wooden construction.
"Sawhorse."
"Yep - and that one's the discipline stand, right?" He nodded approvingly and Lily continued, "OK, so... the stocks speak for themselves - again major melodrama… What else… harnesses, swings, odd little suspension do-dah…"
Grayson lightly gripped her shoulders, turning her around to face further contraptions. "Keep going," he said. "You sound like quite the pro."
"Yep, that's me. Proper little Mistress of Pain." Lily scanned the remaining objects. "OK… the weird chair thing -"
Grayson smiled. "The hitching post?"
"Right, the hitching post. Another butt whipping prop - I mean, how many different pieces of furniture do you need when they all do the same job?!"
"Keep going."
"What’s left? The weirdy-restraint cupboard? I didn’t venture that far. Oh and of course we have the whips, paddles, canes, crops, floggers, ticklers… shackles, cuffs, spreader bars… blindfolds… that’s yer lot. Right?"
Grayson kissed her on the forehead. "Wrong. But you did great." He then took a few steps over to the strange leather-panelled wall which was home to the whip-rack. Then reaching out, running his hand along the rack's side, he pressed something - a button? - and the entire panelled section of wall jolted free from its stone surround.
Friday, 18th Feb
Dear Diary,
I’m pooped. But I’ve eaten the best pizza Tesco Metro had to offer and I’m caffeinated to the hilt, so I’m going to jot down some of today’s antics before I go to bed.
So… video/phone sex… what can I say. Today I dressed up in a pseudo-Venetian ball gown and masturbated for my boyfriend while he watched from his New Yorker ex-girlfriend’s living room. Seeing him was amazing. Seeing him wanting ME was pretty damn good too, if I’m honest. I guess I struggle to believe he could really be interested in me, knowing he’s done so much with so many women, and - lame as it sounds - it’s good to have the odd reminder that he feels the way I feel. URGH! Now, you see, even as I write this, doubt’s seeping in and I feel like I’m in for some kind of a fall. Stupid old insecurities.
But I’m digressing. Back to the sex. So there’s little me, sweaty, knackered, shagged (almost literally) and definitely ready to go home after a long day’s work and play, when Grayson shows up. He’s got a bee in his bonnet about me meeting some high-flyer called Christoph Yale, and, in his words, he wanted to help me ‘get a feel’ for the dungeon before hand. The whole Christoph thing, BTW, is by no means a done deal; I’ll say hi to the bloke but I’m pretty sure he won’t be escorting me down to the dungeon.
So, Grayson took me on his dungeon tour, and after a brief look at the stuff I already had a grip on (so to speak), he did a bit of magic with the leather panelling, and HEY PRESTO! A whole section of fake wall swings open to reveal the inner depths of hell. “This place is largely for show,” he said. He told me it was hidden for privacy, but very safe, with panic buttons on all the equipment, and, of course, more lovely paperwork to fill in before someone can use it. Plus, he said, a third party always had to be present - usually him - just to be sure the role-playing didn’t get dangerously out of hand.
Seriously, the vibe in that secret room was NOTHING like the phony-danger feel of the main dungeon. That little room was something else. Cages jutted out harshly from the cold stone walls. Suspension devices hung from the ceiling, as before, and some of the furniture was similar in construction, though the intended uses were clearly more extreme; designed (I guess) for clients who’s fantasies involve significant pain. Ick!! One bench had a load of wires and gizmos attached. This was apparently electro-fetish gear (of course - silly me - should have guessed!)… I asked Grayson if people really did that stuff? “Only people who’ve been health-checked to the moon and back,” he assured me. Gross. No grosser than the gimp-suite-wearing mannequins, though, or the nasty gas mask style thingamajigs that hung from hooks on the walls. “Not to my taste either, but it pays to have an open mind in this business,” Grayson told me. ‘Pays’ being the operative word.
Then, just to make my experience complete, Grayson led me to over to the flogging bench - an item I’d previously missed - but one I knew all too well from Seb’s photos. Those leg, arm and body straps had been all but burnt onto my retinas. Grayson saw my expression change, and asked me what was up? I told him.
“Oh yeah?” he said. “We try to update this stuff pretty regularly, but this baby’s been around a while. You know - I doubt he even gives those photos a second glance these days. Even at the time they were mainly just taken as mementos for the clients.”
“That’s not what you said before,” I told him.
“Maybe not,” he said. “I’ve been known to exaggerate. And for that I’m humbly sorry. You’re just - I dunno - kind of easy to tease, I guess. Anyhow, enough of the crazy-pain-room,” he said, and he wrapped his arm round my shoulders and led me back to the good-ol’ regular dungeon (which is not something I ever thought I’d write!)… Then, he got to the crux of what was going on here. “OK listen,” he said. “So, I was going to ease gently into this conversation, but then Ana gave my game away, so I’m going to just say it outright. Christoph Yale is possibly the richest guy you’ll ever meet. He’s a long-time client. I met him back home in San Jose when he was 19, and even back then he was already a rising star in Silicon Valley.”
“He owns a software company then?” I’d asked.
“Companies plural,” Grayson corrected. “Anyways, he’s in the country for a few weeks, and he wants to meet you.”
This made no sense. “Why?” I asked. Why on earth would some stinking rich IT guy want to meet me?
“Because he loves new blood, for starters. And then when I told him about Seb going all monogamous, he nearly died for curiosity,” Grayson told me. The line ‘curiosity killed the cat’ sprung to mind, but somehow I felt like I’d be the one sprouting whiskers and keeling over if this Christoph guy let his curiosity get the better of him.
I told Grayson I wasn’t sure; that I didn’t want to commit to doing anything with anybody.
“Of course, of course, don’t sweat it,” he said. “You don’t have to fuck the guy just because he’s curious... It’s just - well - if you do choose to play, it could be a lot of fun for all involved.”
“All?”
“The three of us.” Grayson smiled at me, enjoying watching this little bombshell of a suggestion seep in. “Well you’ve tried the whole two girls, one guy thing. How’s about trying two guys?”
Needless to say, I was speechless.
“Look, don’t answer. Just think about it, and see how you feel tomorrow,” he said. “But - well - as I said before - you might want to get a feel for this stuff so you know what you can handle.”
Grayson, being the pushy gent that he is, was determined to get me strapped up to one of those damn contraptions before the day was through. I looked him square in the eye and said tres slowly, “OK. Now, I know this may sound a little outlandish to you, but I actually - don't - like - pain.”
“Right- oh sure - and, well, I know this may sound a little PATRONIZING to YOU, but I don't think you KNOW what you like yet.”
I was getting a wee bit irritated with his cockiness. “Believe me, I think I have a fair idea. I've bashed my head on enough car doors in my time, and o
ddly it’s never turned me on. Why would a whip crack to the butt make me feel any different?” I said.
“Because it'll send tingly goodness down to your happy place. Though, granted, maybe a whips a bit extreme for a first timer. How about one of these babies?” He lifted down a plain black leather paddle from the wall, and proceeded to thwack his palm with it, staring at me with that arrogant glint in his eye, trying to provoke a reaction.
“Still not seeing the attraction,” I told him.
“Well, no, the attraction would be in the feeling, not in the seeing,” he said.
“And why do I get the feeling you want me to pull my knickers down right now so you can hit me?”
“Because that’s exactly what I want.”
…you can see where this is going right? I wasn’t getting out of there with my buttocks unbeaten, and yes - FINE - I was curious. Meow. Get over it.
“It’s the Viagra right?” I said. “You’re addicted. Why else would you spend every waking minute thinking about sex?”
“Ok, one: you can’t get addicted to it. Two: I rarely use the stuff. And three: You’re the one assuming this is about sex. I just want to prepare a FRIEND - in other words YOU - for what may be in store.”
“Uh-huh. Right then. Fine. One slap - that’s it. Cos, I’m shattered. I’m no good to anyone right now. Unless you like your women unconscious?” I told him.
“As a rule, no. Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage. I swear. No hanky, no panky. But one slap won’t do it. We’ll do ten.”
I insisted on choosing the furniture, to which he replied, “Oh sure! Be my guest!” And in my best efforts not to have all my limbs splayed every which way, I chose the hitching post. As it turns out, the most innocuous looking bits of bondage furniture can be kinky as hell, and size and complexity are really nothing to go by. But hey, what did I know?! I let him chain my wrists to the top of the post and knelt on the leather pads around the base, heartened by the fact my trousers were still where they should be.
