‘You like people to think you belong to me? You do. You do belong to me. This hot, wet little cunt I’m in is mine. Do you get that?’
‘Yeah. I get that.’ I begin to wriggle, trying to provoke him into a thrust.
‘Patience, sweetheart. You made me wait. I’m returning the favour.’
‘Nooo, I can’t. Can’t wait. Do it. Fuck me.’
He won’t be able to resist it. He can’t resist it. He screws his eyes shut and gets to work. My back will bear the bruises, my cunt will sting and simmer with sweet remembrance for the rest of the day and night.
You are his, it says, when I lie in bed feeling the burn. Why do you fight it?
Chapter Seven
Lloyd leaves me in the café with a shot glass of Dutch courage while Rachael and O whisk him off to ‘set up’.
The party doesn’t start for two hours yet. How much setting up do they need?
The people all around me are preparing to party, in hilarious high spirits, brandishing their riding crops and dog leashes while they down expensive bottled beers. None of them seem nervous. I guess they are all old hands at this kind of thing.
‘You look lonely,’ says one man, his bare chest strapped up in some kind of harness. ‘Want to join us?’
His coterie stops behind him – three girls wearing tiny leather miniskirts and very little else.
‘I’m waiting for someone,’ I tell him, crossing my legs. I’m still dressed for work – Rachael promised to help me get changed in the office later.
‘Are you sure you’re in the right place?’
Am I? Good question.
‘Quite sure, thanks.’
‘OK, well, enjoy your play.’ He drifts off towards the bar with his acolytes in tow.
Rachael appears from the stairway door and waves her hand, gesturing me away. I am to be prepared.
In the office, she takes a bag from under O’s desk and rummages through it.
‘So,’ I say, faux-casually, ‘is the set up all do
ne?’
‘I think so.’
‘Where’s Lloyd? What’s he doing?’
‘Mal’s lent him some gear. He’s getting dressed. I think Mal was going to give him a few pointers about tonight too.’
‘Pointers? He’s not doing knife play, is he?’
Rachael laughs, emptying the bag so that the contents jingle and clink on the desk. ‘Don’t be daft. I might do a bit though.’
‘Really? You’re into that?’
‘Only with one dom. I wouldn’t let just anyone near me with a blade. Don’t look so scared, Soph. It’s all about limits. Mine might be a bit further out there than yours.’
‘Blimey, no one’s ever said that to me before.’
‘There are all sorts of things you might do that I wouldn’t be comfortable with either. It isn’t like “Oh, she’s into BDSM so she must want to do x, y and z.” It’s different for everyone.’