“I’m trying to get to know you better.”
He took the champagne glass from her hand.
“Well, then, perhaps we should go back to my place. This kind of knowledge demands more privacy than we have here.”
They left the reception after polite goodbyes to a slightly sweaty-looking Dafydd and took a cab back to Bloomsbury. Lydia hadn’t planned to go home with Karl-Heinz tonight, but she wasn’t unduly concerned. She had decided to follow her heart and her instincts. Or perhaps her pussy, which twitched with anticipation of what her German lover might have in store for her.
“Now then,” he said, ushering her through the front door and up the stairs to the living room. “How much better do you want to know me?”
“I want to know everything about you. I don’t want be kept in the dark about anything. That’s fair, isn’t it? I don’t keep secrets from you.”
“Yes, it’s fair,” he said. “Fairness is not really a big part of dominance and submission, though, is it?”
He had knelt to pull out an antique-looking wooden chest from beneath the coffee table. Lydia knew this wooden chest of old, and what was inside it. Her heart began to beat fast, her own breath choking her.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he said, opening the chest and taking out a set of restraints. “But I want something in return.”
“So I see.” Lydia backed towards the sofa.
“Are you wearing panties?”
“I might be.”
“Take them off.”
She reached up under her double-layered skirt and pulled off her knickers, placing them delicately on the sofa arm afterwards.
“If you and I had a relationship like Julius and Sarah’s, I would be able to forbid you from ever wearing panties again. I wonder if Sarah was wearing them tonight.”
He approached, ropes in hand, and stopped a little short of Lydia, looking her swiftly up and down.
“Now, where shall I have you?” he wondered aloud.
He took a straight-backed chair from its resting place against the wall and put it down in front of Lydia.
“Do sit down,” he invited politely.
She sat, knees modestly together, hands folded in her lap, and looked down at the polka-dot pattern on her skirt.
Karl-Heinz prowled around her and took hold of her arms, making her clasp her hands together behind the chair’s back. He wound one length of silken cord in and out of the struts before knotting it around Lydia’s wrists, binding her securely to the chair.
“Now spread your legs good and wide,” he commanded.
Lydia felt her skirts fall in between her thighs as she mechanically opened them.
Karl-Heinz tied each ankle to a chair leg, then raised her skirts up, making her shuffle about on the seat until her bare bottom sat on the rough pile of the upholstery.
“I’ll answer your questions
,” he said. “But you have to come first.”
“What if I have a lot of questions?”
“Then you’ll have to come a lot of times.”
“I’m not sure it’s possible.”