Right of Salvage

by Ashe Barker

  “Oh, God. The Queen.” He drops his head into his hands, and I suspect his groans are now not a reflection of his recent ill treatment at the hands of his cousin. “I’ll spend the next thirty years in the Tower. If she doesn’t hang me.”

  “It was my understanding, when I last spoke to her, that a generous contribution to her coffers would resolve the matter of your nefarious activities to her entire satisfaction. I’m sure you can raise a few guineas…”

  “What? She’d pardon me?” Now it’s Rob’s turn to look bemused.

  “She would. She likes you. She wants you back in England, where you belong. So…?”

  Rob seems to be considering his options. Eventually he starts to struggle to his feet.

  “The least you can do is help me up…” He scowls at his cousin.

  The viscount stands, then extends his hand to haul Rob to his feet. They both offer a hand to me, as Billy comes rushing up onto the deck carrying a blanket. For some reason he has eluded the herding instincts of the viscount’s crew and has been back to the cabin to find me something dry to cover myself. I accept it with grateful thanks, only now realizing I’m starting to shiver. Rob’s arm across my shoulders is comforting.

  “So, little Janie. Do you see yourself as a countess then?”

  I glance up at him. “To be honest, Sir, I really don’t. If you go to England, and for what it’s worth, I think you should, I’ll come with you if you like. But you don’t have to marry me. You can’t marry me. I’m the daughter of a merchant, not a noblewoman.”

  “Janie, I’d have married you before now but you already had a husband. If you recall, I offered to despatch him for you but you pleaded for his life and I never could refuse you anything. Still, all’s well that ends well. And yes, I do have to marry you. Back in England I’ll not get away with tying you to my bed and fucking you till you faint otherwise. So you’ll have to be my Countess. It’s only decent.”

  If Billy and the viscount are surprised by this observation they are sufficiently polite not to remark on it. And I’m speechless with embarrassment, though I can find no convincing argument with his logic. Rob seems to consider the matter closed. The only person who seems less than convinced at the emerging plan is Billy, who is hopping from one foot to the other. Even Viscount Heslington notices his distress.

  “Do you need a piss, lad? Please don’t make a mess on the deck.”

  “Billy? Are you injured?” Rob is more solicitous in his concern.

  “You’re going then? Back to England?” Billy looks quite stricken, his distress almost palpable. He’s looking from Rob to the viscount and back again, and is on the brink of tears.

  Rob grins at me, then at his cousin. Despite his grumpy welcome, which in the circumstances does not seem unduly unreasonable, I’m starting to get the impression the two are close friends.

  “It seems I am. We are.” He reaches for me, pulls me in close and drops a kiss on the top of my head. He pauses for a moment, studying the boy before he puts him out of his misery. “What about you, Billy? Could we talk you into coming, too, do you suppose? Do you fancy giving England a try?”

  Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

  The Hardest Word: A Hard Bargain

  Ashe Barker

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  “That’s him.” I sign the words to Summer, my closest and dearest friend, who’s managed somehow to bury all her own heartfelt objections to this mad scheme of mine and has come here with me anyway. To provide moral support. Or maybe to try one last time to talk me out of it. And if all else fails, as she puts it, to pick up what’s left of me afterwards and make sure I get home.

  “Who? Which one?” she whispers the questions back at me.

  Two powerful-looking Doms lean casually against the bar in the far corner of the members’ lounge here at the Collared and Tied club. They’re talking quietly, both their expressions serious, and although this is very much a social club and they’re both nursing drinks, I suspect their discussion is more business than pleasure. Still, that doesn’t concern me. My business with Nicholas Hardisty will definitely have very little to do with pleasure. He’s here. And so am I. It’s to be tonight then.

  It’s been over a month now since that disastrous, ill-fated email exchange with the terrifying Mr Hardisty, and I’ve been dreading this face to face encounter. Twice a week for the last four and a half weeks, I’ve been dreading it. Each time I’ve returned here since that awful day when I picked up that voicemail message from the membership secretary telling me that I was considered ‘unsuitable for membership’ and that therefore my pass card had been invalidated. The cultured female voice went on to inform me that I would not be admitted to the premises again, I was no longer a ‘friend’ in the club Facebook group and my log-in details had been removed from the club website. And the remainder of my annual membership fee was non-refundable. The cash was the least of my worries, but I was suddenly cut adrift, an outsider, not welcome. Not that I’ve ever felt especially welcome, more a fish out of water if I’m honest, but I have always felt safe here and that matters to me. I was gutted by what had happened, completely crushed. It never occurred to me that a simple request, however unwanted or uninvited, would result in such harsh and instant retribution.

  Mistress Angela spoke up for me, I know I have her to thank. And he relented, commuted my sentence so to speak.

  My foster mum always advised me to be careful what I wished for. Well. I certainly wished to attract the attention of the most respected and desirable Dom in the Collared and Tied club, and I’ve got my wish. And now, he’s going to spank me. It’ll be a punishment spanking, so I have no illusions. It’s going to hurt. A lot. He didn’t actually say, didn’t say much at all in fact, but I would think it’s likely he’ll have it in mind to punish me in front of an audience to discourage any other similarly unruly and misguided submissive from breaking the rules and irritating him. Maybe it’ll be in the dungeon, so I get to be publicly humiliated as well as hurt.

  Not that I’ll get any say in it. And there’s no point at all in delaying the inevitable. Indeed, if he suspects I’ve tried to avoid him or delay matters, he’ll dish out even more retribution. So it’s really got to be now.

  Summer finds this fondness of mine for kinky sex more than a little unsettling, but even so she hasn’t tried to talk me out of my regular visits to the club. Well, not much. Until now. Ultimately, she’s all for consenting adults is Summer, and she just wants me to be happy. And safe. But she doesn’t think this latest business with Nicholas Hardisty is even remotely safe, a view she’s shared with me pretty much constantly for the last four and a half weeks. Ever since I confided to her what I’d done, and what the consequences were. And what I intended to do—or more accurately allow this powerful and angry Dom to do—in order to resolve the matter.

  “You don’t have to do this. It’s mad. No one can expect you to just walk up to him and, and…”

  “Introduce myself as the submissive who pissed him off right royally and who he now gets to spank by way of retribution.” My hands are moving furiously as I respond silently to my best friend’s objections, but she’s been around me for years and can keep track of my signing with no trouble at all.

  “Exactly. Let’s just go.”

  “No. I need this to be finished. Then I can move on, look for another Dom to train me. Maybe Angela will hear of someone else…”

  “God, I hope not. If they’re all as scary as… Which one is he, anyway? They both look deadly.”

  “The one nearest us, cream shirt.”

  “Pity. The other guy’s better looking. If you’re going to be dropping your pants for a guy, and then let him—whatever—it helps if he’s gorgeous, I suppose. Sort of softens the blow, so to speak. Are you sure yours is the cream shirt?”

  “Yes. I’m sure. And mine’s definitely the most gorgeous. Yours is okay I suppose…”

  “Mine? No way. I value my hide too much, and
these guys—what did you say they were? Doms?”

  I nod helpfully.

  “Yeah, well, they just terrify me. And if you’d any sense, you’d be running for the hills now, and not even contemplate marching up to him. Please, Freya, you don’t have to do this. If being a member of this weird club is so important to you, why not just buy the place and award yourself life membership?”

  “Because that’s not the way we do things.”

  We? We submissives that would be. And for a submissive to contemplate buying a BDSM club and taking charge, in direct defiance of the most powerful Dominant in the place, is so unsubmissive as to be laughable. I shake my head, knowing I can’t come close to making Summer understand the complex protocols at play here. Suffice it to say, I have to accept my punishment if I want to move on and be allowed to continue to explore my sexual preferences in the relative security of this safe environment. I turn back to her, and decide to make one last attempt at reassurance.

  “I do. I really do. It’ll be all right. Afterwards. And I’m grateful to you for coming with me, but you don’t need to stay. I know you hate it here. Grab a taxi, I’ll pay for it, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I’m going nowhere. I’ll wait for you, and make sure you get home. When he’s done with you.”

  “That won’t be necessary. Really.” Although I’m doing my best to exude confidence, in truth, I’m not at all sure what state I’ll be in by the time Nicholas Hardisty is ‘done with me’, but I’ve never yet heard of an instance when a Dom punished a submissive so severely she—or he—was incapable of making their way home. I doubt I’m going to be the first. And however pissed off with me he might be, Nicholas Hardisty is a responsible Dom. He’ll hurt me, but he won’t go too far. Probably.

  Mr Hardisty has his back to me. He’s at the bar in the main lounge at the club, leaning casually on the polished surface chatting to his friend, the one Summer seems so taken with, who I vaguely recognize. I think I’ve heard he’s called Daniel, and although not in my opinion nearly as attractive as Nicholas Hardisty, he does seem quite nice. He’s always polite to submissives, but I’ve never scened with him. I’ve scened with hardly anyone, in fact. Both men are wearing black denim jeans, the normal ‘uniform’ for Doms as far as I can see, but Mr Hardisty is wearing a casual cream-colored sports shirt in contrast to his companion’s more austere black silk shirt. And Mr Hardisty is definitely the more handsome of the two, gorgeous and sexy and so, so hot. I’d say he’s in his early thirties, maybe a little older, dark brown hair, slightly over-long perhaps, a little over six feet tall and with shoulders that fill out that sports shirt very nicely indeed.

  I know I messed up, contacting him out of the blue like that. Totally messed up. But no one could honestly blame me for wanting Nicholas Hardisty. All the subs want Nicholas Hardisty, but he’s very, very selective. The only sub I can ever recall seeing him with—and then only once or twice in all the months I’ve been watching him here—is a tall, willowy blonde, name of Gina, I think. He doesn’t usually indulge himself, at least not here, but I know he’s a mentor for several less-experienced Doms. Indeed, my own friend, mentor, and now my champion it seems, Mistress Angela, speaks highly of his skills as a trainer and educator of new subs.

  I can see now that I should never have taken matters into my own hands, even though there’s no way at all he would ever have noticed me otherwise, the quiet little mouse in the corner. I’m not pretty, not the sort of sub to attract the attention of a sexy, experienced Master like Nicholas Hardisty, not tall and willowy, and definitely not blonde. I definitely shouldn’t have offered him money to train me. It never occurred to me that he’d take my approach so amiss, but he did, and I’m lucky to still be here. I owe that to Ange who persuaded him to re-consider, to relent and settle for a physical punishment instead of just throwing me out of the club for good.

  Which brings me back to my current dilemma. His instructions were to make myself known to him in order that he could mete out the discipline I seem to require. He laughs, the sound rich, low and incredibly sensual. I sigh. If it weren’t for the nature of our coming encounter, he’d seem quite approachable. Almost.

  I take a deep breath, squeeze Summer’s hand in one last gesture of reassurance then straighten my short black skirt. I adjust the neckline on my cut-off scarlet and black top, before moving silently in his direction. Silently, the way I do everything. Always silent, rarely noticed. And now I’m right behind him, and still he’s unaware of my presence. Which creates another pressing problem for me—how to attract his attention? I could simply tap him on the arm, but even as inexperienced as I am, I know a submissive can’t just march up and touch a strange Dom without permission. That’s definitely not allowed. I could try to clear my throat, but I suspect the sound—if I did indeed manage to make a sound—would just be ridiculous. I don’t want him to find me a figure of fun on top of everything else. I’m standing there, uncertain, trying not to fidget, or worse still turn and run, when Daniel saves the day for me. He spots me hovering awkwardly and leans around Mr Hardisty to find out what I’m doing there. His expression is distinctly surprised, no doubt at my temerity in interrupting them.

  “Yes?” His tone is stern but icily polite.

  Nicholas Hardisty turns to see what the interruption is, and our eyes meet. Briefly. I smile quickly, nervously, before dropping my gaze. I bow slightly, the only ready way I have of expressing respect to a nonsigner, before I step back to a more respectful distance.

  “Can we help you?” Daniel again, now regarding me with a somewhat puzzled expression.

  I can’t blame him really. Submissives just don’t walk up to Doms deep in conversation and interrupt, it’s not how we do things.

  “We’re not looking to play just yet, but if we want you, we’ll call you over.” He glances up, catches sight of Summer hovering a few yards away, and returns his gaze to me. “Both of you, perhaps.” Despite his dismissive words, he’s polite to me at least, not all Doms would be. He turns away, ready to get back to his conversation with Mr Hardisty, but his companion is still regarding me closely.

  “Miss Stone?” His voice is low, controlled, quite formal.

  I glance up and nod briefly before lowering my gaze again. Long moments pass, I can feel his eyes on me, assessing me. And no doubt finding me less than enticing, but he has a score to settle, a reputation to uphold. There’s no doubt I’m going to be getting my just deserts this evening, though I don’t suppose he’ll want to waste too much of his time on me. So I stand and wait.

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  About the Author

  Ashe has been an avid reader of women’s fiction for many years—erotic, historical, contemporary, fantasy, romance—you name it, as long as it’s written by women, for women. Now, at last in control of her own time and working from her home in rural West Yorkshire, she has been able to realize her dream of writing erotic romance herself.

  She likes to write about people, relationships, and the general cock-up and mayhem that is most of our lives. She often writes about places she’s known but her stories of love, challenge, resilience and compassion are the conjurings of her own imagination, with a hefty dose of kink to keep it interesting. We all need to have a hobby.

  Ashe loves to craft strong, enigmatic men and bright, sassy women to give them a hard time—in every sense of the word.

  When she’s not writing, Ashe’s time is divided between her role as resident taxi driver for her teenage daughter, and caring for a menagerie of dogs, rabbits, tortoises, and Colin the hamster.

  Email: ashe.barker1@gmail.com

  Ashe loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com

  Also by Ashe Barker

  Carrot and Coriander

  The Dark Side: Darkening

  The Dark Side: Darker

  The Dark Side: Darkest

  Sure Mastery: Unsure

  Sure Maste
ry: Sure Thing

  Sure Mastery: Surefire

  The Hardest Word: A Hard Bargain

  The Hardest Word: Hard Lessons

  The Hardest Word: Hard Choices

  Paramour: Re-Awakening

  What’s Her Secret?: The Three Rs

  Totally Bound Publishing