by Mandy Lee
‘I’m going to restrain you now. Remember your word.’
‘I won’t need it,’ I smile. ‘And you won’t be extracting any information from me.’
He raises an eyebrow.
‘Pride comes before a fall,’ he warns me.
He fits the leg cuffs first, tightening them around my ankles, checking them thoroughly before he turns his attention to my arms, wrapping the cuffs around my wrists. I turn my head to the side, resting my cheek against the leather, and find his face close to mine.
‘Comfortable?’ he asks. I smile my reply. ‘Good.’ Tenderly, he moves my hair away from my face. ‘Then I’ll begin.’ He kisses my cheek. ‘You’ll be singing like a canary before you know it.’
‘Do your best.’
A palm is smoothed across my back, slowly taking in every square inch of skin before it comes to rest at the bottom of my spine.
‘You’re beautiful, Maya. You have a wonderful backside.’
‘Thank you.’
A second hand runs its way across the black silk of my knickers.
‘I’ll start light, and build up from there. This is your warm up. Try to relax into it. Don’t let your brain fight against the pain. Soak yourself up in it. Try to experience it as if it’s something new. And breathe deeply. Concentrate on your breathing. Try to keep it as controlled as you can. Do you understand?’
‘Of course.’
Immediately, he slaps me lightly on the right buttock. I try my best to follow his advice, but my body seems to want to crease itself up into a ball.
‘Relax.’
He slaps me again, on the left buttock this time, quickly, lightly. The sound of the slaps echo around my head.
‘How does that feel?’
‘Fine,’ I lie. Already I’m wondering if I’m going to make it through the entire session.
‘Trust me,’ he says gently. ‘I’m going to increase the intensity now. Remember what I said.’
He begins to slap harder, moving from one buttock to the other, quickening the pace. One slap follows the other without a break, and I quickly lose count. I’m too busy fighting the need to cry out, to tense up and tug at the bindings. Closing my eyes, I try my damnedest to accept each new stinging sensation, to keep my breathing under control, but it’s next to impossible. I’m about to scream out my safeword when he finally comes to a halt.
‘There’s some colour to your skin now.’ He pulls my knickers down to my thighs. ‘The blood’s starting to flow.’
‘Is that it?’
‘No. There’s plenty more.’
Without another word, he pulls the knickers back up and rains down another long session, harder this time. At first, I flinch, my fists tightening around the leather rests. My buttocks are truly on fire now and I’m vaguely aware that I’m wet around my crotch. He slows the pace, still moving from buttock to buttock, the hand firmer at the base of my spine, holding me in place. And maybe I’m becoming delirious, but between the waves of pain, I think I’m beginning to understand: my body is weakening under his touch, growing ever more vulnerable with each new stroke, and my brain isn’t too far behind.
‘That’s your warm up done.’
‘Warm up?’ I choke. Raising my head from the leather, I realise that he’s stopped again.
‘Warm up,’ he confirms. ‘Now, we give the endorphins a chance. How do you feel?’
I blink a few times.
‘My bum hurts.’
I feel his hand against my cheek.
‘You’re doing well. No struggling, no yelping. I’m proud of you. Now, let’s get these knickers off.’
He tears them off in one go, and then he’s in front of me.
‘This is a flogger.’ He shows me the leather fronds, running them through his fingers. ‘I’m going to use it now. This is going to be gentle. We’re just keeping things going while your body reacts. Do you want me to stop?’
‘No.’
Fuck it. Why did I say that?
‘Your choice.’
A different sensation hits me this time. He taps the lengths of leather against my buttocks, over and over, before he trails them slowly up and down my spine. He runs a hand across my skin, over my back, down to my buttocks. And then the flogger begins again. While the same routine is repeated for minutes on end, I sink deep into the leather, relaxing totally, soaking up the endless, dancing tingles. I’m pretty sure I’m half way to being hypnotised when he comes to a halt. I feel his fingers at my clit, patiently arousing me while he delivers the next round of spanks: quick, upward movements this time, interspersed with rests. Desperate to come, I squeeze my thighs against the leather, and my brain tosses and turns on itself. I’m losing my grip on rational thought, losing sight of the line between pleasure and pain. After a brief respite, the slaps return, harder this time, while his fingers continue to work me up into a storm. I’m nearly there when he stops again. I groan my disappointment.
‘Your pain threshold is higher now, Maya. Adrenalin is pumping through your body. Your blood flow is increased, especially here.’
He cups a hand around my vagina, pressing hard against my clitoris. The pressure sends ruffles of warmth undulating their way through my groin. I moan loudly and hear him chuckle again. Alongside another round of hard slaps, he returns a finger to my clit, increasing the pace of his movements. I close my eyes, focusing on my impending orgasm, willing it to arrive sooner rather than later. I’m breathing quickly now, gasping. Another handful of slaps rain down on my buttocks and I finally come, consumed in a sudden rush of heat.
‘Oh, God,’ I groan.
‘Ready to spill the beans?’
‘No. Not until …’
Out of nowhere, a single hard slap lands on my left buttock. I cry out, more in surprise than pain. A second slap lands on my right buttock and my body jolts. Finally, he begins to spank my vagina, again and again, with short, upward movements. Each spank sends me wild. I can barely believe it when I begin to convulse in a second, intense orgasm.
‘Open your eyes,’ he murmurs into my ear.
It takes all my energy to comply. I find him standing by my side, staring down at me from under hooded eyes. He reaches down and unfastens his belt, sliding it out of his jeans, slowly, making a show of it while he continues to stare at me. He pulls it tight between his hands.
‘Not that,’ I mutter, amazed that I can push out the words. Out of nowhere, I’m woozy. I feel as if I’ve been drugged.
‘I’ll use this if I see fit,’ he says sternly, and my muscles clench again.
He hangs the belt over the end of the bench, right in front of my eyes. My heart begins to race, a real sprint, as I gaze at the belt. Shit. No. He can’t use that.
‘Ready to sing?’
A sentence. I need a sentence.
‘You’re getting nothing, you bastard.’
He stares down at me, his eyes gleaming, and he begins to unbutton his jeans.
‘Well, if you’re not going to talk, then I might as well just fuck that luscious cunt of yours.’ He leans down and kisses me gently on the forehead. ‘But all in good time.’
He disappears again and I feel his hands on me, running their way tenderly across my buttocks one more time. One hand comes to a halt, holding me in place while he begins to administer the slaps again, each one stinging as badly as before. But something has changed now. Another flow of chemicals must have been released into my body because now I can barely keep my eyes open, and in spite of the pain, I’m wonderfully relaxed. I can barely think now. My brain seems to have washed itself out.
‘Talk,’ he breathes, halting his flow.
‘No.’
His fingers enter me. They’re quickly removed.
‘You’re ready for me.’
He begins to nudge his cock inside me. He doesn’t take his time. Filling me completely, he clamps his hands around my thighs and begins to pump with a steady, unrelenting pace. I hear moans and groans, and realise that they’re mine. The pressur
e builds almost immediately.
‘I can’t …’ My words fizzle out into nothing. I have no idea what I was about to say.
‘This is beautiful, Maya. You’re beautiful.’
He picks up the rhythm, pounding into me harder now.
I open my eyes and gaze at my hand, surprised to find that it’s limp. A shimmer passes up my spine. Another flings its way through my groin. I’m moaning again, only louder this time. I can feel everything so acutely now, his crotch thrashing against my buttocks, his hands on my flesh, every twitch of his cock inside me.
‘Jesus!’ he cries out as he empties himself inside me.
With a single slap at the side of my right buttock, my muscles seem to implode. I’m barely aware of what happens next. I know that he withdraws himself. I hear the final slaps and even though I know that they’re the hardest yet, my body welcomes every single one of them. My brain has long since stopped complaining about the pain. In fact, I don’t think it even knows what pain is any more. All I sense is pleasure.
***
I’m curled up next to him. Somewhere. I don’t know where. I can see windows. The blackness of a night sky. The lights of a jet. I’m wrapped in a throw, leaning my head against a warm chest. And I can hear a voice.
It’s mine.
‘I met him in my final year. He was a rich kid. Spoilt.’
Fuck it. I’m talking. I’m spilling the beans, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Whatever he’s done to me, my brain has taken a hike. And even though I’ve not touched a drop of alcohol all day, I feel drunk. I seem to have lost all my inhibitions, my stop button, my filter … the lot.
‘Go on,’ his voice encourages me softly. A strong arm is holding me, a hand stroking my hair.
‘He had a huge house out by the coast in Fife, fast cars, a flat in Edinburgh. Family wealth. He never worked a day in his life. Have you drugged me?’
‘No, Maya. Keep going.’
I take in a deep breath and let it go.
‘Lucy had a part time job in a gallery in Edinburgh. She got them to exhibit a painting of mine. He was there that night. He bought it and I was taken in by it all. He was Prince Charming. He asked me out and I said yes. The first few months were great, but then I started to realise there was something about him, something I just didn’t like.’
I falter. I’m coming back to reality now. I’m on a couch, a leather couch.
‘Go on.’
‘It started small, little comments about the way I dressed, telling me what to eat, how to do my hair, how to do my make-up. And then he started getting arsey if I wanted to see my friends.’
‘He had no right to do that.’
‘He told me that he owned me, just like you tell me that you own me. But he meant it completely. He really did think I was his possession. One night, when we argued …’ I swallow, realising that I’m going too far.
‘What happened?’
‘He …’ I listen to my own breathing. It’s in tatters. ‘He hit me.’ I swallow again. ‘I’m not an idiot. I knew I had to get out. I went home and I finished it by text. I couldn’t do it to his face because I just didn’t know what he’d do.’
Silence unfolds, spreading itself out across the air between us. At last, the arm tightens.
‘You should have told me this before.’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘I never would have spanked you if I’d known this.’ I turn to face him, finding an expression of pure anguish. ‘You shouldn’t have let me do that.’
‘It’s okay.’ I reach up and stroke his cheek. ‘It’s different with you. I don’t know why. It just is. Everything you do brings me pleasure.’
I run my thumb down the side of his face, around his chin.
‘We aim to please,’ he whispers, taking hold of my hand. ‘So, tell me. When you finished with Boyd, how did he take it?’
‘Not well. He started hounding me, turning up on my doorstep at all hours, texting me, calling me, threatening me. I went to the police but they weren’t interested. How did you do this? How did you make me talk?’
‘Trade secrets.’
‘I feel like …’
‘You just reach a point where you’re suggestible. That’s all. I’ve seen it plenty of times. It’s wearing off now, but you might as well carry on. What happened to make you leave Edinburgh?’
I let out a sigh.
‘He turned up at my graduation party. Drunk. I was looking for the toilet when he got me.’
‘Got you?’
I press my index finger against my forehead and close my eyes. ‘He got hold of me and forced me out to the back of the building, and then he tried to …’
His body grows tense against me. ‘Maya?’
‘He didn’t do anything. He didn’t get the chance. Lucy turned up. She’d seen it all.’ I open my eyes to find him gazing down at me. ‘Me and Lucy, we’d planned on staying in Edinburgh, but after that, I couldn’t. So we made the move to London. Lucy got the job at Slaters. I got a job as a waitress. We shared a flat in Peckham to start with. And then I met Tom.’ I suck in a shaky breath. ‘He was everything I thought I ever wanted. He looked after me. He protected me. I’d stopped painting, but I thought it was fine. I thought I’d get married and raise a family. I thought I’d find some sort of fulfilment in that. I invested everything in that relationship. But then he walked away. And I had nothing. Not even painting.’ I hesitate. Should I really tell him the next bit? Yes, I decide. Whyever not? I mean, I’ve already told him the rest. ‘I went mad.’
His eyes narrow. He tips his head forwards.
‘It’s okay,’ he soothes me. ‘I don’t care what you did. It doesn’t change anything.’
‘I slept around, I drank too much, and then I kind of folded in on myself. Lucy propped me up through all of this. Her flatmate in Camden moved out a few months ago and I moved in. I’d only just started getting myself back together again when I met you. You were right, when you said I had a crippling lack of self-esteem. You were right. It’s still there. You couldn’t work out what knocked me back down after art college. Well, it was men. And when I met you, I thought I’d get knocked down all over again.’
‘And the way I’ve behaved hasn’t helped that.’
I shake my head. ‘You’ve dropped me twice now, Dan. I can’t take much more.’
‘It won’t happen again.’
‘But why has it happened so far?’
I hear him let out a breath.
‘The first time, it was because of something Clive said. He thought I’d destroy you and he had a point. The way I used to be, I would have done. But I’m not that man any more.’
‘And last week?’ I urge him. ‘I’ve told you about Boyd. You’ve got to tell me.’
‘And I will. Soon. I promise.’ He touches my cheek. His eyes plead with me and I fold with a silent nod of the head. ‘Now, stand up.’
‘What?’
‘I said stand up. I’ve got something to show you.’
Obediently, I get to my feet and pull the throw around myself. I stay where I am while Dan gets up and makes his way to the door.
‘This was intended to be an office, but I’ve never used it. When you came into my life, a better idea occurred to me.’
He flicks on a light and immediately I’m frozen to the spot, fixed there in a state of complete surprise. The room is at the end of the block, and while the two internal walls are blank plaster, the two outside walls at the corner are made completely of glass. The view gives out over the Thames. I stagger towards the windows and gaze out to where a thousand lights twinkle against the darkness. I turn around, catching sight of the leather sofa, a huge wooden sideboard and an easel. An array of paints, brushes and palettes are laid out across the sideboard while a range of canvases in a variety of sizes are propped up against a wall.
‘A studio,’ he explains. ‘For you. Everything you’ve got back in your flat, it’s here too … and more.’
I head for the s
ideboard, hesitating for a moment before I set about picking up one tube of paint after another.
‘The light in here during the day is perfect. And it’s quiet up here. You won’t be disturbed.’
‘You’ve been busy.’
I turn to face him, caught immediately by the sight of a painting hanging on the wall behind his head. I gaze at it, mesmerised, remembering the few days I spent on a clifftop in Scotland, desperately trying to capture the power of the sea.
‘How did you track it down?’
His answer floats through me.
‘I’d already spoken to your tutor. He remembered you’d sold a piece at a gallery. I called the gallery and they pointed me in Boyd’s direction. When I was up in Edinburgh, I went over to his flat and viewed it. He agreed to sell it to me.’ He takes a step forwards and unhooks the painting from the wall. ‘I thought it would be a welcome surprise. I thought it would remind you of where you came from. I thought it would help you to get painting again. I didn’t know it would bring him back into your life.’ He turns the painting round and rests it against the wall. ‘I’ll get rid of it. I’m sorry.’
I shake my head.
‘No. Don’t. When I painted it, I was happy. I just need to remember that.’
He circles back round the sofa, settles himself down, snakes an arm across the back and pats the seat next to him. As soon as I take my place, the arm closes around me.
‘I want you to be yourself, Maya. And that means you need to paint.’
‘I know.’
‘You’ve made a start, but you can’t work in that god-awful bedroom. This is perfect for you.’ He watches me for a moment, gauging my reaction. ‘This isn’t me controlling you. This is me encouraging you. And if you don’t want to work here, then you can find somewhere else and I’ll pay for it.’
‘You can’t do that.’
‘I can.’
I glance back at the seascape. ‘Did you buy my painting? Tonight? The one of the woods?’
‘I did.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s too precious to sell to a stranger. One day you’ll understand.’ His eyes flicker, as if he’s just gone too far. He brings himself back quickly, flipping the subject.
