La Brat (2 page)

She hadn’t always been a brat. Or more accurately, not so much of a brat as she had become in the last year or so. She used to be biddable, acquiescent, the perfect submissive. Well, some of the time she was. She must have been good, or at least had shown potential. Otherwise, Aaron Praed would never have looked twice at her. He could have had his pick of all the submissives at The Basement, the fetish club she’d discovered soon after moving to England. But he’d chosen her. He’d invited her to scene with him the first time she’d ventured there, shy and on her own, not sure what to expect.

Eugenie laid the magazine on the seat beside her as she let her mind drift back to that first scene with Aaron, nearly three years ago now. He’d been good, by far the best Dom she’d ever played with—before or since. It had been on the tip of her tongue to decline his offer of a spanking, but there had been something compelling about the tall, blond Dom with the vivid blue eyes. Instead, she’d accepted and followed him across the dungeon to a cubicle that housed a padded bench and a rack sporting an assortment of paddles and leather straps.

* * * *

Then

“Take your pick. Or if you prefer I’ll just use my hand.”

“That one. If you please.” Eugenie pointed to a pretty little lemon-colored paddle made of flexible silicon. She honestly had no idea if she was making a good choice or not, but her limited experience had at least taught her that the difference would be made by the skill and intent of the Dom, not the implement used. If this man wanted to hurt her, he could and he would. If it was too much, she could stop him by using her safe word.

Sure enough, his next question addressed that issue. “What’s your preferred safe word for this, Miss…?”

“Eugenie. My name is Eugenie d’André. And my safe word is Maupassant.”

At his raised eyebrow, she felt moved to clarify. “He is one of my favorite authors. He was French.”

“Ah, right. Excellent choice. Very classical. My name’s Mr. Praed—Aaron—though you will address me as Sir.”

“
Naturellement
, Sir.”

His tight smile was his only further response. He gestured for Eugenie to lean on the bench and lift the short skirt she was wearing. She did as instructed, quashing her natural modesty, which had no place here. Even so, she appreciated his choice of the cubicle as it did offer a degree of privacy.

“Would you like me to remove my thong also, Sir?”

“That’s up to you. It makes no difference to this.”

“Then I will leave it in place. Thank you, Sir.”

“Ten strokes okay?”

“Yes, Sir, ten will be fine.” Eugenie wriggled against the soft leather padding on the bench, making herself comfortable as her handsome playmate for the evening positioned himself behind her. Now that the initial embarrassment was behind her, she was glad that she’d taken the plunge, so to speak, and accepted his invitation to play.

“I’ll start when you tell me you’re ready.”

“I am ready, Sir— Ooh!”

The first stroke fell immediately, sending a sharp burst of pain across her left buttock.

“Too hard?”

“No, Sir. That is perfect.”

Mr. Praed made no comment. He proceeded to deliver the remainder of the ten strokes, pausing for a few seconds between each. Eugenie presumed this was to allow her the opportunity to use her safe word if she wished, and she silently appreciated his care. There would be no safe wording, though. His technique was heavy but controlled, the slaps just painful enough to elicit a squeal or two by the time he reached eight and a definite scream at the tenth. Eugenie was impressed. By the time he offered her his hand to help her to stand upright once more, her bottom was smarting and her pussy moist. She began to wonder at the wisdom of retaining her thong, but it was done now.

“Thank you, Sir. I enjoyed that.” Eugenie was careful to assume a suitably submissive posture, her head bowed, hands clasped behind her. She liked this Dom, wanted to make a good impression. Perhaps he was a regular here. If so, she would certainly be returning frequently.

“My pleasure, Miss d’André—or do you prefer mademoiselle?”

“Either is quite all right, Sir. Just as you please.”

He gave a low chuckle, as though he knew exactly what was going on in her head. Perhaps he did—some Dom’s had that knack, she’d found. She had no idea how they did it, where they learned that peculiar brand of telepathy. Were they born with it? Or did they perfect it by going to classes or some such thing? Probably the latter. She was aware that good Doms would read about BDSM, fact as well as the fiction that she was so fond of. They would practice, they would finesse their art before laying a hand or anything else on a submissive. Aaron Praed certainly had all the skills. She had felt safe with him. If so, all the more reason to give him no cause not to want to scene with her again.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, mademoiselle? Do you have further plans for this evening?”

“No, Sir, not plans as such. I just, I… This is the first time I have been here. I do not know the facilities well.”
Please take the bait. Please.

“Miss d’André, is that your way of hinting that you’d like me to give you a tour?”

“Yes, Sir. If you are not too busy, and if you have no other—commitments.”

“I think I can make time for you. One word of warning, though—and I will not be repeating this—I don’t appreciate hints. If you want something from me, in future come right out and ask me. I may say no, but you’ll have to take that chance.”

“Yes, Sir. I apologize,” Eugenie uttered, head still bowed, her gaze fixed on a point about a yard in front of Aaron Praed’s feet. Inside she was singing. ‘In future’. He said in future.

“Are there any more items of equipment you might like to sample here, whilst we’re still in the dungeon?” He gestured beyond their cubicle to the public area where couples and groups milled about in various states of dress and undress. Prior to Mr. Praed’s offer of a spanking, she’d already checked out the St. Andrew’s Cross at the far end, the stocks set up in the center, as well as the many and various straps and hooks affixed to the walls and ceiling. Shelving and racks held an assortment of paddles, whips, crops, canes, and Eugenie knew that electrical aides such as vibrators could be supplied on request. In truth, she had more than a passing interest in all of those, but felt intimidated by the audience she would have here in the communal room. She appreciated the safety offered by the public setting, but had no taste for voyeurism herself. Her natural modesty was a powerful inhibitor.

The choice of location for a scene, and whether or not it would be conducted in public, would usually be the Dom’s call, but Eugenie knew nothing would happen that she did not consent to—this was the first rule in the BDSM code book. To her way of thinking, though, it was not that simple. If she did not consent to whatever Mr. Praed had in mind, he could and would simply shrug and wish her a good evening—and go look for a sub more to his taste. He would have no trouble finding one, she was convinced of that.

So really, she had no choice at all.

“Yes, Sir. Anything. All of it.”

“My my, you are ambitious, to say this is only your first visit. For myself, I prefer to take things more slowly. I’m thinking one of the private rooms might be more suited to our requirements right now.”

Dom intuition again. Amazing. Eugenie gave a quick, grateful little nod.

“Follow me, please.” Aaron turned on his heel and strode away from her across the dungeon. He never once looked back to see if his companion was behind him. He didn’t have to.

The room he led her to was small and unfurnished apart from a solid wooden chair in the center and a drinks fridge and shelving unit against one wall. The shelves were empty except for a couple of straps and a length of rope. The fridge contained several bottles of mineral water, both still and sparkling. The chair had no arms though the seat was padded, the back straight. It looked very utilitarian, as indeed Eugenie knew it was. It was a spanking seat, designed for a Dom to use when administering an over-the-knee spanking. That must be his intent then. Her buttocks were still tingling from her experience downstairs, but she found her pussy moistening again in anticipation of a repeat performance.

He seemed to be in no rush, strolling across the room to help himself to a small bottle of sparkling water. He turned and offered to Eugenie.

“Still or sparkling?”

She shook her head. “Neither, thank you. I am fine just now.”

He snapped the top off his bottle and took a long drink. Eugenie used the brief interlude to cast her gaze around the room again. This time she spotted a metal ring suspended from the ceiling. There seemed to be no restraints attached to the walls, a fact that struck her as odd.

“I prefer to keep things—uncluttered—when I’m getting to know a new submissive. Just you and me, and a few basics. Strip please, Miss D’andré.”

The command was delivered in a clipped, matter-of-fact tone that brooked no argument. Even so, Eugenie hesitated. She knew the score, had known exactly what would happen when she agreed to accompany Mr. Praed into a private suite, but still the terse instruction unnerved her.

“Problem, Miss d’André?”

“I—no, Sir.”

“Do it then. When you’re naked, I want you to stand under the ring and reach up, grasp it with both your hands.” He turned, appeared to be selecting something from the not exactly extensive array of items on the shelves.

Stung by his apparent lack of interest in watching her undress, Eugenie obeyed his instructions anyway. She resented his arrogant tone, her irritation simmering as she removed her skimpy vest top and skirt. She reached behind her to unclasp her bra, glancing at Aaron as she did so. He was at least looking at her now. She tilted her chin up as she bared her breasts for him, proud of her body.

If he was impressed, he concealed it admirably.

“I like the shoes. Those can stay.”

“And my thong?” Silly question, really.

“What part of naked is not entirely clear to you?”

Eugenie’s thong joined the rest of her discarded clothing in an untidy heap beside the chair and she stepped over to position herself directly beneath the metal hoop. She found that if she stretched up she could just manage to reach it, though without her high-heeled shoes she would not have been able to. No doubt, he’d worked that out. Damned cocky know-all Dom.

Aaron came over to stand in front of her. When she would have dropped her gaze, he tipped her chin up with two fingers, forcing her to look him in the eye. Eugenie’s mouth went dry. She wished she’d accepted his offer of a drink a few minutes earlier.

“I’m going to tie your hands to the ring, then you will stand still and be quiet whilst I explore your body. I intend to touch you everywhere, in any way I choose. I may hurt you. I may pleasure you. If you feel a need to orgasm, you will ask my permission. If you want me to fuck you, you must ask for that. If you’ve earned it, I may oblige you. Is this all absolutely clear to you, Miss d’André?”

Eugenie drew the tip of her tongue across her lower lip before curling it inward to chew on it. It was a mannerism she couldn’t help and one that always betrayed her. She berated herself for allowing him to see how nervous she was, how deeply he intimidated her, though at some level she appreciated his skill in being able to reduce her to this with just a few words. How would she react when he did actually lay his hands on her?

“Miss d’André? Eugenie? Do you understand what is to happen?” His voice had gentled a little, the difference almost imperceptible but somehow enough to restore Eugenie’s flagging confidence.

She nodded.

“Excellent. You have your safe word, but other than that, I don’t want you to talk to me unless I ask you a direct question. You may make other sounds, of course. I suspect you will be quite vocal as we get to know each other this evening. You may wish to close your eyes and I have no objection to that. If at any stage I want you to look at me, I’ll tell you so and you will obey.”

As he spoke, he attached leather straps to her wrists, binding them together, then fastening the straps to the ring. It was the work of moments, but when he stepped away, Eugenie was securely tied, stretched out for his perusal and whatever else he had in mind.

Eugenie eyed Aaron as he leaned against the bare wall, his stance one of studied nonchalance. He seemed to be in no hurry, whereas with every second that passed, she felt more and more strung out with nerves. The longer he made her wait, the more apprehensive she became. She wished he’d just get on with it.

A couple of minutes slipped by before he took a bottle of still water from the shelf and walked toward her. She watched him, her eyes widening. She was silent, as he’d instructed, keen to obey. Aaron unsnapped the cap on the bottle and held it to her mouth. He didn’t ask this time if she wanted the refreshment, just put it to her lips and tipped the bottle up. She sucked greedily.

“If you want a drink, at any time, you may ask for one.” He withdrew the bottle from her mouth. Eugenie licked her lips and smiled at him, both grateful and wary.

He circled her, unhurried, then returned to stand before her. “Nice tits. A little small but we’ll manage. I love your arse, especially as it’s still so pretty and pink from the paddle just now. I expect we’ll brighten it up still more, though. What do you weigh, Miss d’André?”

“I, I am not sure. Perhaps nine stones.”

He shook his head. “Nearer eight, I’d say. You’re too thin. We need to build you up, Miss d’André.”

Circling her once more, he stopped behind her, this time trailing his fingertips across her shoulder and tracing the shape of her clavicle. Her long brown hair fell in soft waves to her mid back. He wound it around his hand and tugged until her head tilted back. Turning her face toward him, he leaned in to brush his lips across hers. Eugenie was conscious that this was the first expression of intimacy between them. Not much, but sufficient to reassure her that he was pleased with her so far. Or so she hoped.