“An affecting scene.”
The sarcastic voice that seemed to come from a huge distance away belonged to Hackmeyer.
Lydia looked up over Milan’s shoulder and was mildly surprised to see that Hackmeyer had Sarah bent over his knee now with her skirts up and he was preparing to spank her with a wooden ruler paddle.
“That was a nice aperitif,” he explained. “Got my juices flowing. Now I want to spank my woman.”
He let the paddle fall, hard and loud, on Sarah’s bottom. She kicked her legs and squealed, clearly enjoying herself.
Lydia wobbled to her feet.
“Let’s go,” she said, to both her lovers. “I don’t want to stay here.”
Hackmeyer, whacking away with gusto, looked up and made a cartoonishly sad face.
“But I want you to stay. I want you to join in the fun and games.”
“How can I be in the mood for fun and games after this?” she shouted. She turned to Karl-Heinz, who had put a steadying hand under her elbow. “You can stay with your lovely friends if you want to, but I’m going home. With Milan.”
“No, no, I’ll come with you,” said Karl-Heinz. “I don’t want to stay without you.”
“Really? I’m sure Sarah would be happy to suck your cock again.”
She reached for Milan’s clothes and laid them in front of him. He was on his knees, head on the floor, hands clasped over his eyes, rocking.
Karl-Heinz picked the whip back up and cracked it suddenly, making Lydia jump.
“Don’t disrespect me, Lydia,” he said. “I won’t be spoken to like that by you.”
She stared at him, immobilised and slightly thrilled.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Then, shall we leave together? You, me and Milan?”
“Fine.” He bent and rubbed Milan’s shoulder. “Come now, old man. Get your clothes on and I’ll call a cab.”
Lydia helped Milan to his f
eet and dressed him, pulling the underpants and trousers as gently as she could over his abused backside, keeping his shirt loose instead of tucking it into his waistband. All the same, he winced and hissed continuously until the socks and shoes were on, at which point he offered Lydia a tired smile.
Hackmeyer had given up on Sarah’s spanking and was trying to remonstrate with an unrelenting Karl-Heinz.
“We could have had such a great time,” moaned Hackmeyer. “A foursome. You love foursomes! Come on, Karl-Heinz. Send the fiddler on his way and pour yourself a brandy.”
Karl-Heinz shook his head. “No,” he said. “This ends here. You and Kaspar stop these pathetic, childish revenge games or I won’t have anything more to do with either of you. Put the past where it belongs and leave each other to make a better job of the present.”
Lydia looked sharply at him. “Good advice,” she said, letting her words hang in the air for his deeper consideration.
He flinched, then recovered with a benign smile at her. “I suppose I should take it,” he said.
He called for a taxi, made his farewells to the host and hostess then the triangle of lovers left, Milan supported at each side by the other two.
“We’ll go back to my place,” said Karl-Heinz, helping Milan into the back seat after Lydia, then joining them himself. “I have some good stuff to rub into your skin after a whipping. It soothes the burn and prevents bruising. Lydia knows all about it, don’t you, Lydia?”
Lydia simply blushed and nodded, wondering what on earth the taxi driver would make of the conversation. She held Milan’s hand, stroking the knuckles, wanting to take all his pain away—the physical and the emotional.
He had stopped shaking, she noticed, but he obviously couldn’t get comfortable and sat awkwardly, holding his upper body stiff. He put his arm around her and got as close as he could, seatbelts permitting.
“I love you,” he said to her.