Peregrine stepped up, took the whip from Leo’s hand and demonstrated a grip that facilitated stronger, more compact lashings.
He laid ten such on Callie’s reddening rear, enjoying her little mewls of pain.
‘Ah, I get you,’ said Leo. ‘Give us the whip again.’
‘Better.’ Peregrine watched, stroking his chin, as Leo tried hard to hold back and flog with a little more elegance.
‘How much do you think she should get?’
‘How much do you want to give?’
‘I don’t know.’
Peregrine sighed. Leo wasn’t his ablest pupil. He tolerated the young man for Callie’s sake really: she had this silly fondness for him. She also kept dropping hints that she wanted menage sex, but Peregrine had no wish to share a bed with the fellow.
‘Do you want me to finish off?’
Leo handed Peregrine the whip again.
Peregrine thrashed Callie until she was incoherent, then laid a few upward flicks on her pussy, just for an encore.
‘If you want to fuck her, Leo, take her to the spare bedroom. The bed’s made up. You can call a cab from here once you’ve finished.’
Peregrine poured himself a brandy and sat down with a book, pretending not to watch Leo release Callie from her bonds and carry her out of the room.
It was hard work, being stylishly heartless, sometimes. Harder work trying to read with moans of ecstasy drifting into your ears. Leo could at least have shut the door. But no. Even that was too daunting a challenge for the great lummox.
The moans of ecstasy mingled with something else after a while. It took Peregrine a few moments to identify the gentle beeping of his phone.
He looked at the clock. It was after midnight. Usually only lovers called at such times.
Feeling optimistic, even though he would have to postpone whomever it was for Callie, he picked up the call.
Cousin Richard? Odd.
‘Sweet coz,’ he said, putting the phone to his ear. ‘What is amiss?’
‘We’ve got a situation on our hands.’
‘Do we indeed? At this time of night the only situation I want on my hands is a brunette one with a firm pair of buttocks.’
‘Well, that pretty much describes her, actually.’
‘Oh?’ Peregrine shifted in his seat, holding the phone closer to his ear. ‘Do tell.’
‘Emma Frayne from the Geisha Garden.’
‘A personal favourite of mine. What about her?’
‘Allyson’s been busted over something, I’m not sure what, and Emma needs to go into hiding. I can sort out plane tickets, paperwork and all that, but I don’t know where to send her. I don’t know anyone much overseas. I thought you might.’
‘Why on earth? Has the club been raided? Is she going to name names?’
‘Al wouldn’t do that.’
‘There isn’t an awful lot Allyson Bruce wouldn’t do, Richard,’ he said sharply. ‘I’ve known her longer than you have. She’s a pragmatist, loyal to her own skin.’
‘She loves Emma, genuinely loves her. If you help her, she’ll keep your name out of it.’