Sebastian - Secrets

by Janey Rosen

  “Sit” he gestures, with his wooden spoon, to the church pew and I take a seat. The candle is lit and it casts a warm golden glow across the chunky wooden table.

  I sit and watch him moving deftly about the kitchen preparing our food with a relaxed competence. He pours me a large glass of mellow red wine - I drink deeply enjoying the warm flush from the alcohol. Sebastian sets two dishes of spaghetti bolognaise, spoons and forks on the table, nudging a small dish of Parmesan shavings toward me.

  “You’re such a good cook, Sebastian,” I flatter him and I mean it as I slide a dish of the tempting food to my place setting and take some Parmesan. “Do you cook for yourself every day?”

  “No, I enjoy cooking occasionally, but Scarlett cooks for me. She prepared the meal for the Business event. She’s exceptional, very capable … and imaginative.” Wait right there, fella. Are we talking about cooking, or something else? I bite my lip.

  “I just bet she is!” I retort without subtlety, but resentment creeps up on me from nowhere.

  Sebastian puts down his cutlery and frowns at me.

  “Elizabeth Dove, are you jealous?” he asks, all innocence and boyish charm.

  “Should I be?” I retort, shovelling a forkful of bolognaise into my mouth nonchalantly, my eyes firmly locked onto my food.

  “I don’t tolerate jealousy Elizabeth, I’ve already told you I like to surround myself with beautiful things.”

  I sulk into my pasta and but can feel him watching me. “I’m not the jealous type Sebastian, I just find it weird that you have a beautiful woman living here … just you and her. Where does she sleep? Does she have staff quarters?”

  “I know what you’re implying Elizabeth, and I don’t like it. Scarlett works for me, do you understand? And yes, she has her own quarters downstairs.” He looks annoyed but, me being me, I persevere.

  “Downstairs? In a cellar?” I ask incredulously.

  “The cellar, Elizabeth, is probably twice the square footage of your entire house.” He replies arrogantly.

  “There’s an entire network of rooms below us which used to serve as the working hub of this house. I’ll show you, tomorrow.”

  “I look forward to that,” I say, with trepidation.

  “While we’re on the subject Sebastian, who do the perfume, cosmetics and this robe belong to?” I tug nervously at my robe and regard him suspiciously.

  His dark brows are set in a frown, his lips a stern line and the tension between us is now tangible.

  “They belong to you. Whom did you presume they belonged to? I bought them for you. Scarlett chose them. Frankly, I’m growing tired of your insecurity. Eat.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I pout, my appetite suppressed at the thought of Slave Girl choosing something so intimate for me.

  “You’ll need the energy, I plan to keep you on the go all night. Now do as you’re told. Eat.” He’s determined and obstreperous.

  With a petulant sigh I push my food around the bowl, managing to swallow a few mouthfuls of the steaming minced beef. He regards me sternly as he eats his food.

  I’m learning that Sebastian can be stubborn, evasive and dark. Not qualities I am familiar with or particularly fond of.

  Glancing at the wooden clock, hanging by a short rope from an iron meat hook above the range, it’s surprising that it’s already nearly eight o’clock. I must call the children and say goodnight to them. I push my bowl aside.

  “I’ve got to call the children, won’t be long.”

  “Sure, go ahead,” he says.

  I take my bowl to the sink and leave the kitchen, still feeling moody.

  In the hallway I retrieve my phone from my bag and speed dial my mother’s number. She’s pleased that I call and asks me how I’m enjoying the spa. ‘Very relaxing’, I lie.

  I tell her I’ve spent several hours in bed and have just eaten dinner, and she’s pleased to hear this. I feel very guilty then. Joe comes on the line and babbles about Grandma’s house and lists the junk food she has fed him and I ask to speak with Bella. Typically moody, Bella has little to say and is eager to get back to a vampire series she’s watching. It feels good to talk to them in spite of the shame I feel at the deceit.

  I end the call with several kisses and ‘goodnights’ and a deep longing to hold my children and smell their freshly washed hair.

  Replacing my phone in my bag, I feel melancholy. When I turn Sebastian is leaning against the wall, watching me. I presume he has listened to my conversation, which I find overtly intrusive. He cocks his eyebrow and regards me with an expression that is hard to read.

  “Lying comes quite easily to you it seems, Elizabeth.” His eyes are dark and smouldering. “You have the makings of a bad girl. I like that.”

  I bet you do, you weirdo, I think. My weirdo.

  “I have a gift for you, come here,” he commands.

  “For me?” I’m intrigued - I love gifts but rarely receive them. I go to him, eager to receive my gift.

  “Turn around.” I do as I’m told and turn my back to him. He moves my long blonde hair away from my neck and I feel a cool cord being slipped around my throat. Fear creeps upon me but then Sebastian fixes a clasp behind my neck and turns me around to face him. My hands go to my throat and touch a fine silky choker with a bead decoration to the front. His expression has changed, jaw tensed he stares at the choker and then his eyes lock on mine with a faraway look that I haven’t seen before.

  “You’re beautiful,” he whispers hoarsely.

  “Sebastian … thank you,” I rock onto my toes and kiss his full, sculpted masculine mouth with a gratitude that is heartfelt. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply as my lips leave his.

  “Come and look.” He leads me by the hand to the ornate gilded mirror above the fireplace in the hall and I gaze upon the choker. It is the finest black ribbon, in the centre is a tiny, sparkling diamond surrounded by a cluster of smaller diamonds. It’s exquisite and I gasp as my fingers gently feel the silkiness of the ribbon and the roughness of the diamonds.

  “I can’t accept this Sebastian it’s too beautiful, simply stunning.” A fervent kiss to my neck silences me and I lean back against him.

  “You will accept it, in fact I insist that you wear it when you’re with me here. It’s a symbol that you are mine.”

  Something stirs in me and I try to recall where I have seen a similar choker recently but I can’t remember. I love it – it’s sexy, beautiful and it’s Sebastian’s gift to me so I will treasure it. Of course I won’t be able to wear it other than with him anyway, Alan really would have something to say about this.

  “Yes. I’m yours,” I reply. “Oh, Sebastian I love it, thank you so very much.” I’m grinning and feel happier than I have in a long time.

  “You’re very welcome, you deserve to have beautiful things Elizabeth. You’re a very beautiful woman. I don’t think you realise just how incredible you are.” My lips find his and we share a lingering kiss.

  “Come with me, I want to show you something,” he says and I follow him into his study.

  An oversized antique desk sits against the far wall and to either side are three drawers. He pulls open the top drawer and pulls out a large, blue leather bound book, lifting the cover open he reveals that it’s a photograph album.

  “Sit down.” He pulls forward a dark green, leather button backed chair and I sit forward, eager to see the photos. “You asked about my family, well here they are.”

  Looking at the first page I see three black and white photos of an elegant couple and a small boy. In the first, the couple strike a formal pose – the woman is seated and she cradles a baby dressed in a long white gown, the man stands stiffly to the right and slightly behind, and has a hand placed on the woman’s shoulder. The second photograph seems to have been taken at the same sitting but this time the couple are sat side by side and the man holds the infant. The woman is smiling in both photographs but the man looks stern, stuffy. The third photograph is far more relaxed, the
woman seated casually on a picnic rug with a baby who is barely old enough to sit up resting against her legs.

  “Are these your parents? Is this you?” I ask, secretly delighted that he’s finally sharing part of himself with me.

  “Yes, my mother, father and I. Those two were taken on the day of my baptism. The other was taken at Penmorrow. We used to picnic up by the old oak” he replied.

  “You were adorable!” I exclaim. “Such a gorgeous chubby little baby.”

  Sebastian chuckles, turns the page and I see that the young Sebastian is approximately three years old in the single photograph. He is stood next to an elderly, frail looking lady and is petting a large golden retriever dog, which I presume may have been a hunting dog.

  “Your Grandma?” I ask.

  “Yes. My Grandmother, Mary, was sick when that photo was taken but she lasted another three years before she died. I loved her. I remember how she used to sit with me by the fire in the Great Hall and tell me stories about the old days at Penmorrow … the parties she and Grandfather held. I think things were very different in her day. There were certainly more staff living and working on the estate. They used to hold shooting parties, and at the time kept a kennel of twelve beagles. I recall being scared of those gun dogs because they seemed always to be barking, and I remember seeing them fed with pieces of raw meat which the kennel hand told me was pieces of naughty boys. Here, this is me when I graduated.”

  He flicks through several pages and shows me a photograph of a fresh-faced young man in mortarboard hat and gown clutching a scroll.

  “Handsome and clever,” I tease and he smacks my behind playfully.

  “So where are your mum and dad now? I ask.

  “They both died. They were both in their forties when they had me. Mother died when she was sixty-two of breast cancer, and my father five years ago after a stroke. That’s when I inherited this old pile and my title. Unfortunately with no heir, it’s likely this place will go to my cousin and then my nephew who live in Australia. I’m sure they’ll sell it. Father would turn in his grave if that happened.”

  “Oh, Sebastian that would break your heart.”

  “Things change, Elizabeth.”

  He seems melancholy and reflective, as though the historical weight and expectations of generations of De Montforts, rest squarely on his shoulders. I understand now what he meant by responsibility and burden, and my heart aches for my poor Sebastian, who is alone and with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  “So, you and Libby didn’t want children?”

  He seems to blanch at that question. Poor Libby seems a taboo subject.

  “We tried, but she … had problems. Not physical problems. Mental health problems, and she was always having one treatment or another and children just didn’t happen for us.”

  I feel sad for him, for both of them, but I wonder what kind of mental health problems she suffered from. If she was mad.

  “Was it depression?” I ask tenderly.

  “Depression and a whole bunch of other stuff. I don’t want to talk about it.” He closes the album and I regret pushing him about Libby.

  “Anyway, enough of this, BED!”

  He playfully pats my ass. A flutter of excitement runs through me, I hope he doesn’t mean sleep.

  Sebastian turns out the downstairs lights and I follow him up to his bedroom, it’s an eerie house, I wonder if it is haunted and I shiver at the thought.

  Sebastian closes the door to his bedroom and turns on the small nightstand lamps, giving an intimate feel to the room. He pulls at the tie of my robe and it falls open, exposing my nakedness and I feel suddenly overtly aware of my body and its’ blemishes and imperfections. Even after what we did earlier, I’m not used to intimacy or showing my body but at the same time I yearn to feel his touch again. He slips my robe from my shoulders and now I am naked except for the choker around my throat, I do feel sexy for the first time in years. Not cheap or dirty but desired and feminine.

  He stands behind me, his arms encircling me, kissing the nape of my neck and I want him badly now, feeling his arousal pressing hard against my sacrum.

  “Close your eyes.” He moves away from me, then returns and I feel silky fabric placed over my eyes and tied at the back of my head – Oh goodness! He’s blindfolded me. This is so erotic and a first for me. He guides me to the edge of the bed.

  “I want you to lie down on your back Elizabeth, you have to trust me, whatever I do to you is for your pleasure as well as mine OK?” I have no idea what he’s going to do to me but right now he can do what he wants, this is so exciting. I do as I’m told and lie back on the bed in total darkness.

  “Open your legs,” he commands.

  Compliantly, I move my legs apart, feeling exposed and vulnerable yet creamy with desire. I hear him moving in the room but I can’t see him. This is beyond erotic. I feel something soft and light tickling the sole of my left foot and then my right, a giggle escapes my lips. The tickle stops, I fall silent. The tickling sensation travels slowly across the tops of my feet, up my shins, to my knees. It moves to the inside of my legs and travels up toward my thighs. It’s unbelievably arousing and soon the light tickle arrives at my sweet spot. I know now that he’s using a feather and as it whispers over my clit again and again, I cry out but it’s unrelenting. The sensation and anticipation increase until the raw and feral need for gratification becomes unendurable.

  “More. Give me more. I need to come,” I pant demandingly.

  “No. Not yet.” He stops abruptly, until my ebb subsides, before teasing again and again with this insufferable torture, and I’m desperate for release. The tickling stops and the room is silent. Frustration overcomes me.

  “Dammit Sebastian. Stop teasing me,” I cry.

  “Patience. You come when I allow you to come.” I hear a drawer open and close, I reach for the blindfold but a firm hand clasps mine and stops me.

  “Trust me,” he whispers in my ear. “This will be incredible for you.” Cold metal touches my nipple and I jerk away from it. The metal flicks over my other nipple, which is hard and waiting.

  “What the hell is that?” I demand.

  “Sshh. Enjoy the sensation.” The coldness is gone from my nipples. I wait, panting. Every fibre, every nerve ending awaits the next sensation. When it touches me once more, it’s on my thigh. The coldness drags slowly up each thigh in turn, before pressing hard against my pussy. Pushing harder now, the cool phallus struggles to enter me, it’s too large. I’m frantic, arching my back to aid the passage so that I can be filled, and it’s inside me. Gloriously hard, it’s thrust further until the pain almost overwhelms the pleasure. He rotates it and repeatedly drives it against my G spot, and I scream for him to stop, lest I climax without his permission.

  “Come for me now. That’s right, feel it, baby,” he instructs and I abandon all control as the orgasm courses through my body in waves that don’t subside

  The tremors continue until he slides the thing out of me, only then does my body settle. He removes the blindfold and kisses me but I’m spent and confused.

  “That was just for you, Elizabeth, but this is just for me now.” He turns me over roughly, pulls me onto my hands and knees, and slaps my raised bare buttock with the flat of his hand, so hard that it stings and I cry out in surprised protestation. Then he’s kissing my smarting skin, before holding fast to my hips and pounding into me hard. He drives deeply into me, faster and deeper, his testicles thwacking against me, until he reaches his own throbbing climax, collapsing over my arched back as he finds his release.

  He lies beside me now in silence. I feel puzzled. On one hand, I’ve just had the most amazing sex but, conversely, his roughness, and memories of my afternoon with Simon are awakened. The roughness is so erotic, and again, I feel ashamed that I enjoyed the sting of his hand. I have so much to consider, such a disparity between my real life and my experience here at Penmorrow, with Sebastian.

  “So deep in thought my love,
” he traces his lips across my shoulder and pulls me into his embrace.

  “What was that?” I croak.

  “This?” he reaches over the side of the bed, and scoops up the object of my torture from the floor. He rests on one elbow as he holds it out to me. I take it and feel the weight in my hands - it’s heavy and cool in a matt silver finish. Cone shaped, it is wide at the base and tapers to a rounded point and is so enormous, that I need two hands to hold it.

  “Holy crap, Sebastian.” Wide eyed I pass the thing back to him. He drops it to the floor with a loud thud.

  “That was too bloody much,” I’m angry.

  “Yes, I agree,” he says. “But that was the hardest you’ve ever come, wasn’t it Elizabeth?”

  “Well, yes. But the way you teased me, I was going out of my mind Sebastian.”

  “It’s part of my dynamic. By denying and then allowing you an orgasm, it’s so much more intense when it comes. For you and me. From now on,” he whispers against my ear, “you only come when I give you permission. I own your orgasms. Understood?” He kisses my earlobe.

  I sit up, ouch I’m sore, and slap his shoulder. He laughs!

  “Good shot!” He’s smirking at me then grabs my hand as it rises to strike him again.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” I yell, really mad now.

  “Go with it, darling. You know you want to.”

  He pushes me back against the pillows and tickles me while I fight to push him off. He’s too strong for me and soon I’m laughing and giggling when I want to be furious with him.

  “Go to sleep Elizabeth, we’ll talk about it all tomorrow. I want to show you the grounds and more of the house tomorrow too.”

  “Night Sebastian, you infuriating, weird, twisted man,” I murmur drowsily as sleep envelopes me in her grey cloak.

  I’m running through the house and it is dark, so unnervingly gloomy. I can’t look back, I have to get out but a woman dressed in black is gaining on me. Her face is white – almost translucent – and she’s screaming at me, “he’s mine. You must die.”

  I slam into furniture, throw it aside, I have got to escape, she’s coming, she’s coming…oh so near now… MY GOD...MY GOD…NO DON’T…