It was true. My tough shell, developed over years of pursuing disingenuous Hungarian government officials, seemed to have taken a knock. I’d have laughed this off, back in Budapest, and turned it into classic anecdote material.
‘I can’t help feeling that our relationship is going to come to the ears of Mr Mysterious before we’re ready.’
‘I’ve told you. He’s a busy man. He doesn’t care about me.’
‘I think you should tell him you’ve met someone.’
‘All right. I will. Next time he’s down.’
‘That’s in a couple of weeks, isn’t it?’
‘Uh huh. So, you’re unexpectedly free for the evening. What could we possibly think of to do?’
What we – or rather, he – thought of involved a wooden paddle, a silver chain harness, a silk blindfold, fur-lined handcuffs and a medium-sized butt plug. And lube, lots of it.
* * *
Lying on his bed in the aftermath, with stinging red rear and sticky pussy and a deep – bone-deep – sense of having been used to my limits, I asked him how his first session with the therapist had gone.
‘Oh, you know,’ he said with a yawn. He was putting his toys back in the case, save for the butt plug, which needed a wash. ‘Tell me about your childhood. All that.’
‘And did you? Tell her about it?’
‘I made a start. It was easier than I expected, actually – I think because she was a total stranger.’
‘Mum always says that. Impartial listeners are the best.’
‘I told her about you.’
‘Did you?’
‘Yeah. She asked if there’d been any catalyst for my seeking help now. I said yes, there was, and she had a name. Apparently that’s quite common.’
‘Is it?’ I was touched, almost to tears, by this piece of information. The idea of being able to change his life for the better was powerful, now it was coming to fruition.
‘So she said.’ He clicked the case shut and came to lie down beside me. ‘Fancy a bath?’
‘I could probably use one.’
‘Well, I didn’t like to say anything …’
I smacked his thigh, which reminded me of the time I’d tried to domme him, which made me laugh. What a useless dominatrix I’d make.
‘Are you sure you wanted to do that?’ he asked with flirtatious menace.
‘Sorry, sir,’ I said, all sass and backchat.
‘Oh, I think that tells me all I need to know. Come on, then. Let’s clean you up first.’
‘First?’
‘Before I ruin you again.’
Mm, ruination sounded good, if a little unfeasible in my condition. I’d given up trying to work out where my boundaries were, though. They didn’t seem to be at all where I thought they were. What had been a field turned out to be a prairie.
He got up and sauntered through to the dressing room-cum-en suite. I heard the taps thunder into life, then he came back, hauled me off the bed and carried me, over his shoulder, into the bathroom.
Within a few minutes, I had sunk into bubbly, steamy blissfulness. He slid in behind me and lathered me up, slowly and thoroughly, while I laid my head back against his shoulder and shut my eyes.