His House of Submission (House of Submission 1)

I was at the shore by the time he reached twenty, and then I realised I’d done it all wrong. I would never be able to beat him on land. The water was my only chance.

I began to skirt the edge of the lake, but he was on his way over, smiling in premature victory.

‘Run, little rabbit, run,’ he goaded, reaching out for me.

I tried, scooping up handfuls of water and splashing them towards him, but they all fell short of his advancing figure. He was going to get me. I might as well accept it.

And besides … I wanted him to.

But he mustn’t know it. It wouldn’t be so much fun if he knew it.

Soon enough, he was close enough to reach out for me. We twisted and flailed in a complicated waterlogged ballet, him lunging, me ducking, until an overhead bramble caught his hair and held him back for valuable seconds.

Making good my advantage, I scrambled through the reeds and up to the shore, where I hid on the far side of the thicket that had slowed him down. A weeping willow hung over the bank and I snapped off a wand of it, thinking that a weapon might come in handy.

Rustling and snapping of twigs heralded his return to the fray. I tried to conceal myself deep in the undergrowth, but he must have seen me, because his creeping footsteps were most definitely heading in my direction.

I leaped to my feet and brandished my willow wand, swooshing it about in the air. The noise triggered a spark of arousal, and I realised it would make rather a fiendish whip. And if I’d realised that, then Jasper …

He laughed.

‘Bad mistake, Sarah,’ he said. ‘Very, very bad.’

I cracked it towards him. He wouldn’t dare come too near, especially with his lower half completely naked.

He held up his hands.

‘I don’t think you want to do that,’ he cautioned. ‘Put it down.’

I waved it desperately.

He stepped closer, holding out his hand.

‘Give it to me.’

I shook my head and leaped back.

‘Give it to me now and I’ll go easy on you.’

I simply lashed the air with it and took to my heels, up the grassy slopes, away from the trees, towards the picnic rug.

My breath was painful in my chest and my thighs were starting to give up the ghost when he caught me, less than halfway up the hill, grabbing at my upper arm. I tried to flick the willow back at him, but he got hold of that too and wrested it away from me with insulting ease.

‘Oh dear,’ he gloated into my ear, wrapping his arm around my stomach and clamping me against him. ‘I thought you’d make more of an effort. You definitely need to come running with me.’

‘It’s not fair,’ I moaned, making feeble token attempts to extricate myself. ‘I stood no chance.’

‘I know.’ He kissed the hollow beneath my earlobe. ‘Poor Sarah. Now you’re my prisoner. What shall I do with you?’

‘I suppose you’ll do whatever you want.’

‘I suppose I will. Come on then.’

He marched me back to the picnic blanket and made me get on all fours, head down between my elbows, back sloping up from my neck so that my bottom was pushed right out.

‘This is quite a weapon.’ He swished the willow wand through the air. The sound, so invigorating when it came from my own hand, was now terrifying. ‘A slash across the face could have been very nasty. And I’m sure you’ve no idea how to wield it. Have you?’

‘Not really,’ I admitted. ‘Are you going to …?’