Eighty Days Blue

by Vina Jackson

  Dominik hadn’t noticed her hairlessness yet, but he would of course. She would tell him that she had fancied a change. Since that occasion at Charlotte’s party when he had shaved her smooth with the razor in front of all of the party guests, he had given no indication that he preferred her to groom herself in one way or another.

  He seemed to enjoy observing the way that she elected to play out her moods in her dress and hair, but he didn’t suggest that she change herself one way or another to please him. Summer liked that about him. It was one freedom that she would have found difficult to relinquish.

  She had told Dominik that she was meeting Cherry tonight to make things up with her, so he shouldn’t be surprised if she was home late, or not home at all.

  Dominik had muttered in response that he had an engagement of his own, though he hadn’t elaborated. He seemed distracted and withdrawn. Maybe spending their first Saturday night together separately was a bad idea, but there was nothing to be done about it.

  Summer couldn’t confide Victor’s plans to Dominik: it had been part of the deal that she never reveal any of it in exchange for Victor’s silence. Besides, she was terrified that Dominik would despise her if he discovered the things that Summer had done. He knew her nature, to an extent, but she didn’t think he was aware how far she had gone, what lines she had crossed without him.

  Fortunately, he’d left the loft earlier that afternoon to work at the library, giving her time to finish her preparations and organise a car to the address Victor provided.

  Simón called just as she was leaving.

  ‘How is our star? Recovered from the long journey home yet? Ready for an impromptu rehearsal tonight?’

  ‘Actually, I’m still not well. Can I have another day or two?’

  ‘Is there something that you’re not telling me? Has that Englishman of yours upset you? It’s not like you to turn down a rehearsal. I’m worried.’

  ‘No, I’m just tired. Truly.’

  He didn’t sound convinced.

  Victor was waiting for her when the car pulled into the underground garage of the mansion that he had procured for the event.

  A hideous-looking place, she thought, as the metal gates at the entrance clanged open. It had nothing of the art deco artistry of the place in New Orleans that Dominik had taken them to. This was like something that a footballer would dream up, the sort of home that was just a vehicle to display wealth ostentatiously with no thought to how it fit into its surroundings. Probably brimming with velvet and faux-gold trimmings she thought, though she wouldn’t have the opportunity to check, as Victor whisked her straight indoors through a long, dark passageway and into a room fitted with dungeon equipment.

  She found the paraphernalia comforting now, rather than intriguing or frightening. The presence of the padded St Andrew’s Cross, a couple of spanking benches, a cage, a metal frame that looked a bit like a horse and the array of crops, whips and paddles on display made an unfamiliar place familiar.

  In the centre of the room was a red velvet curtain, hanging on a round rail to form a tent, a bit like a miniature big top in a circus.

  Victor swept the curtain aside to reveal a ceremonial dais decorated with fabric and flowers, a little like a sacrificial altar. Above the stage was a spotlight.

  ‘I’ve gone to a lot of trouble for you, my dear, as you can see. I hope you approve.’

  ‘I’m no stranger to the spotlight. I’m sure I’ll manage.’

  ‘It would be my guess that you’re rather looking forward to it,’ he said smugly.

  Summer did not reply, but his words cut her like a knife.

  Was she looking forward to it?

  She supposed she was. In her heart she knew that Victor was vile. But there was a part of her that responded to his commands, a darkness at her core that Victor seemed to recognise and be able to draw out and skilfully manipulate. She knew he was bad news and not a safe person to explore her sexual quirks with, but like a moth to a flame, Summer felt her resistance to Victor crumble under the strength of her desire.

  She wouldn’t give Victor the satisfaction of knowing that were true, though.

  ‘Come here,’ he said.

  She stood in front of him, pleased that she had worn her highest heels and was a few inches taller than him.

  ‘Strip.’

  She had anticipated this too and had dressed in a strapless, long, black stretch-cotton dress, which she was able to easily slip in and out of in one move. Summer found few things more humiliating than struggling to get out of her clothes in front of an audience, particularly when that audience was Victor.

  Then he produced a length of rope.

  Dammit, had Victor been spying on her? He always seemed to know exactly what her trigger points were.

  The rope was thick, well used and softened from frequent washes. She would likely be able to sustain the constriction for a long period of time without excessive pain, discomfort or nerve damage.

  ‘Kneel down.’

  He motioned to the altar, which she noticed was quite comfortably padded, lined with a mattress rather than the hard stone her imagination had somehow conjured up in response to the situation. It was short, and there were steps at either end, roughly the right height for a man or woman to stand on and have easy access to the person who lay on top. Her.

  Summer shuddered as she felt the length of rope gently running across her skin.

  Victor chuckled in response to her involuntary sign of pleasure and she resisted the urge to kick him. That wouldn’t help anything.

  He bound her gently, so delicately that she began to relax despite her best intentions to the contrary.

  Fuck it, she thought. After this, I will never see him again. What difference does it make?

  The bindings were firm but not particularly tight, and she observed that Victor had adhered to all the rules of safer bondage, not putting pressure on any of her nerve centres and leaving a finger space between her flesh and the rope for circulation. He had evidently done this before, and was so far behaving true to his word that she would not sustain any permanent marks or come to any harm.

  Then she tried to move her head. She wriggled, testing the sensation again, working out what he had done to her.

  ‘Finally,’ he said softly, in a voice that brimmed with glee, ‘I’ve managed to get you to do something other than just lie there.’

  He had tied her lower body in a harness and had fixed a knot in the rope that ran between her legs, which he had then attached to her hair, so that each time she pulled her head forward, the rope pulled tight and rubbed against her clitoris. With a little well-timed wriggling, she would be able to bring herself to climax without the aid of a helping hand, either hers or anyone else’s.

  ‘Cat got your tongue?’

  Summer tried to stay as still as possible, inwardly cursing her body for betraying her as she felt the rope between her legs begin to dampen, wet with her own juices.

  Victor gave it a few hard tugs. ‘Like that, do you?’ he said, as Summer tried and failed to stifle a moan. ‘Good. Now, as I promised, I’m going to slip a mask over that pretty face of yours, just to make sure that none of our guests recognises you. Keep the famous violin player anonymous, eh? You won’t be able to see, I’m afraid, but knowing you as I do, I’m sure that will add to your enjoyment.’

  She bowed her head to allow Victor to slip the covering over her, obscuring the top half of her face. She noted immediately that her mouth had been left unencumbered. Of course, Victor would not miss an opportunity to have one of her orifices available for use.

  Satisfied with her face covering, Victor ran his hands over her body, in the manner that one might pet a cat. He reached for her breasts, tweaking each nipple playfully. She ignored him.

  ‘You really are no fun at all. I honestly don’t know what that man sees in you. Now, I really must get back to my other guests. It won’t be long now.’

  Summer did not look up as he left, though she felt a
sweep of air across her naked body as he pulled the curtain round the rail, separating her from the rest of the room.

  A few minutes later, she heard the deep clanging of a gong.

  Victor clapped his hands together like a delighted child as the crowd in the main room gathered to hear his address.

  ‘About time,’ Ed whispered into Dominik’s ear. ‘I was beginning to worry that the Viagra might wear off before he lets us loose on each other.’

  Dominik frowned. He hadn’t even considered taking a chemical aid, though he guessed that many of the other men in attendance probably had. He wasn’t that bothered about the sex. He wasn’t really sure why he had come at all. Or not mentioned it to Summer. Curiosity’s sake, he supposed.

  A suspicion began to gnaw at him as he thought of Summer. She had been behaving strangely since her return from the last tour. An air of sadness lingered over her, and he felt as though she had been hiding something from him.

  Could Victor somehow have involved her in all this? He certainly wouldn’t put it past the man; he looked smug enough tonight, and he had seemed to hint that something would happen this evening that Dominik would find particularly interesting.

  Edward wasn’t the only member of the throng growing impatient. All around him, couples and groups of people were embracing, kissing, stroking. A man standing in front of them had idly hitched up the skirt of the woman he was with and was running his hand over her arse. He was using his other hand to hold up her skirt, apparently aware that Ed and Dominik were watching, and choosing to give them a better view.

  ‘Mind if I join you?’ Ed said to the man pleasantly, as politely as if he had asked to join two strangers at a dinner table.

  The man looked at his partner, who nodded her approval.

  ‘Shall we?’

  The three of them moved towards the playroom.

  Edward turned back to Dominik. ‘Come along, then,’ he said. ‘You might as well see what it’s all about.’

  Only a few minutes had passed since Victor’s announcement that all of the rooms were available for use, but during that time, it seemed that at least half of those in attendance had made a run for it and were already fornicating on the benches and cushions by the time they got inside.

  Dominik had never seen so many people having sex at once.

  He stood still for a moment, looking around him and feeling foolish. The mass of flesh that he saw – breasts swinging and cocks either flaccid and dangling down or pointing stiffly to attention, legs idly opening and labia on display – did not turn him on, though he found it interesting to view, in an objective sort of way, the way that he felt about modern-art displays in trendy galleries or museums.

  The woman they had been watching earlier caught his eye. She came over and laid her hand on his belt buckle, questioning. He nodded. She deftly unbuckled him and pulled his trousers down, then began to tease the end of his cock with her tongue, willing it to life.

  Oddly, in the sea of sex all around, Dominik found that he could muster an erection only if he blocked out the other bodies and just concentrated on the woman in front of him.

  She was about the same age as he was, he reckoned, though it was close to impossible to tell these days. Her long, brunette hair covered each of her nipples like two curtains, but could not cover her rather large breasts. From the back she was heavily set, with the muscled thighs of a person who engaged in manual labour or sport, and a large, soft backside, the sort that a man could knead as he thrust into her from behind.

  The thought made his cock suddenly spring erect. Despite his initial misgivings, Dominik suddenly felt that he would like to feel this woman’s legs wrapped round him, but that end of her was busy. The movements of her mouth round his cock had become more frantic and hurried, and he flinched from the occasional grazing of her teeth as her face was knocked around by the friction of the rest of her body as her partner fucked her.

  Dominik was about to withdraw, to save the possible damage to his penis and take his attentions elsewhere when he realised that the woman was close to orgasm. It would be ungentlemanly of him to distract her by moving now.

  Edward had covered his hand with a latex glove and was probing her arsehole. He looked a little like a mad scientist, but the extra stimulation certainly seemed to be giving her a great deal of pleasure. She seesawed between Dominik and the men behind her like a piston, pumping herself harder and harder against whichever cock or digit happened to be inside her until her body began to shudder and she let out a long sigh and then collapsed happily into a heap in front of them.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, to no one in particular, eyes closed and lips spread in a wide smile.

  Dominik leaned down and stroked her hair, feeling a burst of affection as she nestled against his hand.

  Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  Summer had just begun to wonder whether Victor had broken one of the major kink commandments and left her bound and alone when she felt a subtle change in the energy of the room and caught a slight whiff of a sharp perfume, a fragrance with a hint of lemon.

  Unwilling to advertise her presence to an unknown arrival who might not have good intentions, she held her breath and her body perfectly still. The curtain opened just the same. Whoever it was had found her, though she guessed that Victor had no doubt advertised some sort of show to his guests, and with the presence of a stage and a stage curtain, it was fairly obvious that something interesting might lie behind it.

  She kept her head bowed, hoping that if she didn’t move, the person might leave her alone.

  ‘Hmm . . . So you’re the star of the show.’

  Summer recognised her voice. She cast her mind back, mentally rifling through sounds and images to identify this person from her past.

  That was it. Mistress Clarissa, the woman whose request for a drink had given her an opportunity to steal the cupboard key from Victor, where he had locked her phone and clothes, so that she could send a text message to Dominik and later make her escape.

  ‘I suppose I am,’ Summer sighed. She had got used to the sensation of the rope knot brushing her clitoris now, and without any mental stimulation to go with it (surely it had not been Victor’s presence that had turned her on?), she had just become bored and tired and was looking forward to going home and falling into bed.

  There was a long pause.

  ‘I recognise that accent and the colour of your hair. And, I confess, your figure. Though I am sure that there must be other redheaded kinky New Zealanders in New York. You were at another of Victor’s parties, weren’t you? I believe you ran out before the main event. I hope he hasn’t tied you up to avoid that eventuality this time.’

  ‘Yes, that was me, but no, I haven’t been tied to prevent my fleeing. I’m here of my own free will. Victor and I had a falling-out . . . and I didn’t want to be tattooed.’

  ‘He’s not your master, then, or your dominant?’

  ‘No. I have someone else.’

  ‘And does your someone else know that you’re here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you think that’s wise?’

  Her tone was quizzical rather than officious, but nonetheless Summer was irritated. Why didn’t people mind their own damn business? If she had chosen to be strung up as a party centrepiece, then surely that was her affair.

  ‘Maybe unwise, but necessary.’

  ‘And you’re aware of what you’re letting yourself in for, what Victor has planned for you this time?’

  ‘Quite a lot of sex, I guess. I’m rather looking forward to it, as it happens,’ Summer said defiantly.

  ‘Well, so long as you’re certain, then so am I, and the rest of the guests, I’m sure. I hope you don’t mind my intrusion. I wanted to make sure that everything Victor had planned was . . . legit. Now if you don’t mind, I had better make my escape before the show gets started.’

  Dominik left the room to find some refreshment feeling rather buoyant. His experience with Ed an
d the other couple, and his conversation with Clarissa had given him hope. If other people could work it out, then so could he and Summer. They might need to sit down and talk about it, work out what they both wanted, but at least he knew it was not impossible.

  Clarissa caught his hand as he went in search of the woman with the chocolate shots. That someone in such scanty lingerie and a plume on her head as long as her legs could maintain any degree of camouflage was an indicator of the astonishing costumes that pervaded the crowd.

  ‘All kosher,’ she said, ‘and something of a treat.’

  ‘Oh, really? What has the ringmaster arranged, then?’

  ‘He has a girl in store as a party piece, someone I have encountered before actually, though it didn’t go so well last time. I’m rather surprised to see her again, but I spoke to her and she affirms she’s actually looking forward to it.’

  ‘Oh? Well, that’s a relief.’

  ‘A redhead. Edward will be pleased – he has a soft spot for redheads, as all men seem to these days. Whoever said that gentlemen prefer blondes?’

  A heavy dread fell down on Dominik’s shoulders, as if all the air in the room had turned to lead.

  He made his excuses to Clarissa and hurried to the dungeon.

  Glanced around. The other players were fully engaged in their partners, and the sound of various implements landing on exposed buttocks and backs drowned out his movements.

  He moved to the middle of the room, lifted the curtain and peered through.

  As he had feared, it was Summer. She was lying bound and naked on a raised platform, moaning softly.

  His first instinct was to free her, to loosen her binds, to cradle her in his arms, but the expression on her face, her obvious arousal, stopped him.