Disfigured Love

After breakfast I spent the morning in the library. It was another dimly lit cavernous room filled from floor to ceiling with old books. The books were yellowed and filled with silverfish. It was obvious that no one ever came to this room. I dusted off a deep armchair and tried to read, but it was cold and I could not concentrate. Eventually I left and went back to the breakfast room to wait for Misty to show up for lunch.

Fortunately, she arrived before everyone else.

‘There you are,’ she said with a genuinely friendly smile. ‘I was just about to go looking for you.’

‘I need to talk to you, Misty.’

‘Oh, well, come along to the saloon then.’

We walked together to the saloon and Misty sat on the sofa nearest to the fireplace.

‘It’s so fucking cold,’ she complained. ‘Fortunately, it will all come back on in about an hour’s time. So what did you want to talk to me about?’

‘I just wanted to know more about what is expected of me.’

She frowned. ‘Nothing is expected of you.’ She licked her lips. ‘Other than what you do for Guy at night. He will be flying in by helicopter sometime this afternoon and you will be required to make yourself available for him tonight at nine forty-five. I will come and pick you up and take you to him.’

I nodded. ‘OK.’

‘Guy has instructed you to wear the dressing gown that you will find laid out on your bed and nothing under it. And please leave your hair loose.’

‘Can we talk a little bit about Guy?’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Has he fallen on bad times?’

‘Goodness no. Guy is a billionaire.’

‘Oh!’ A billionaire. Even a millionaire was outside my comprehension. I frowned. ‘Why the missing paintings then? And why would he allow this beautiful old castle to fall into ruin like this?’

‘Broughton Castle is actually a baronial estate that borrows the appearance of a castle. It was built during the Gothic revival. I believe Guy bought it and everything in it without having seen it: what was left of the paintings, the books, the kitchen equipment, the furniture… Everything.’

‘Why doesn’t he do it up then?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know. And even if I did I couldn’t discuss it with you. He is very private and anything he wants you to know he will tell you himself.’

‘Can you at least describe him to me?’

‘The truth is, Lena, nobody here except Mr. Fellowes has actually seen his face. He wears a mask at all times.’

‘A mask? Why?’ I asked, quite shocked by the information.

Her voice dropped a few octaves. ‘He was involved in a car accident. His face was very badly burned and now he will never allow anyone to see him without his mask other than Mr. Fellowes.’

Immediately I thought of an old hunchbacked creature, so ugly that he had to wear a mask at all times. I felt my heart sink. First Zara and her perversions and now this. ‘But what’s he like?’ My tone, I was glad to note, was level and not as unhappy as I felt.

She shrugged. ‘He keeps himself to himself, but even masked he is one hell of a man. To start with he has a really sexy, ripped body. He doesn’t sleep much and often he trains for hours at night. I once accidentally saw him in the gym. I made the mistake of not showing myself straight away and had to stay hidden behind one of the pillars for two bloody hours! I’ve never seen anyone push themselves like that. Running, lifting weights, pulling himself up on the bar. Still, lovely body.’

*****

Later that afternoon the power was returned to the castle. The lights came on and heat began to issue out of the wooden boxes attached to the walls. About two hours later I heard the sound of a helicopter arriving and I felt a knot of nervous fear clutch at my stomach. It never left until Misty came to fetch me at exactly nine forty-five p.m.

‘Are you ready?’ She seemed very solemn.

I nodded apprehensively.

We walked silently in the long bare corridors. It was an unhappy place that appealed to an unhappy man.

She opened a door to a bedroom similar to mine. A large fire burned in the fireplace filling the room with its warmth and light.

I got naked and Misty fit leather straps around my wrists and ankles. When they were snugly bound she hooked them to the chains that were anchored to the posters of the bed. The press of the leather and the rattling of the chains were not foreign. This had already been done to me. I had already been locked in a cage like an animal. No choices. No pleasure. Just my fate.

But then she secured the blindfold over my eyes. And the experience became totally different. With my eyes covered all my senses were heightened and intensified. I quieted my mind and quietly waited for him. The bed beneath my cheek was soft; the sheet was silky and cool. There was a breeze. It must have been coming from the chimney. I started to filter the silence. Muffled footsteps in the corridor. Heavier than Misty’s.

My heart started pounding hard. I heard the doorknob turn. The door opened. Someone was standing at the doorway looking in. My pulse jumped. The silence was deafening. Seconds passed. I remained very still, very quiet. Then footsteps. Nearing. I felt his energy. It reached out before him. Like a hand. And touched me.

Chapter 11

Hawke

Stunning. She was stunning. I caught my breath. The firelight danced on her creamy skin and raw, primal desire pulsed in my heated blood.

She had been chained and presented exactly as I had requested. Beautifully. Forehead to the bed, arms stretched out, ass in the fucking air. She lay very still in her shackles except for the imperceptible movement her body made with every breath she took. Her blonde hair fell over the sides of her face, covering it and spreading out on the sheet. Fascinated I watched her skin stretch over her spine and shoulder blades, her buttocks. She was pale and untouched, like a pure angel. I felt a sudden dizzying rush of power. And she was mine. My possession. I bought you. I own you, Lena Seagull. You are mine to do with as I please.

She was here for my pleasure.

I owned her the way I owned my shoes.

I wanted to bury myself inside her mouth, her cunt, her ass. I wanted to brand the angel. A sudden rush of blood to my cock made it pulse and harden painfully. It felt as if it would rip apart with the intense pressure of my arousal. It was begging for release. I took pleasure in the pain. It was a long time since it had done that. I took a deep breath. I would use her as if she was an object existing purely for my pleasure. I never wanted to know one fucking thing about her or her miserable little life, or her inevitably sad story.

I would only ever see her in this room in this magnificent position. I would never look into her eyes. I would never lose control. I would never allow myself to be weak. She was here for MY pleasure and mine alone.

I moved into the room and stood at the back of her. Her plump ass was held high in the air, the puckered hole ready for me to enter it. Between the cheeks her cunt, plump and pink and juicy, pushed up as if begging for my cock to drive into it. I wanted to grab her hair and pound her so hard with my cock that she screamed. I wanted to see her writhe under me.

I walked up to her, my eyes riveted by the wet heat I saw glistening at the center of her. I stood over her. She had begun to shake with fear. The air felt thick with her anxiety.

‘Lift your ass.’

Her body slid backward and downward as her ass moved up toward me. I put the tip of my finger on the entrance to her sex. Her instinctive reaction was to jump away, but she stilled it and I inserted my finger about an inch deep. Helplessly, she tensed around it, the tight muscles clenching, and I smiled. I pushed my finger all the way and she gasped. The sound was like that first thrilling note of a symphony orchestra that shimmers in the air above your head. I was maestro of this concert. I reveled in the ultimate power I held over her. She would just be a body, to be taken and ridden, a repository for my sperm. No bullshit feeling or emotions.