Secrets Remembered (6 page)

He patted Ailsa’s cheek then moved down to the foot of the bed and fastened her ankles.

“You know you’d enjoy this a lot more if you took your top off,” he said in a throwaway manner. As if it didn’t matter in the slightest to him what she replied. “To experience the sting properly, you don’t want material in the way. I may be good, but even I need a canvas of skin to play with to do the designs justice.” After he checked he had the tension of the ties correct, he walked back toward the head of the bed, and looked directly into her eyes.

“Apart from which, candle wax is a sod to get off linen.”

She chuckled. If he were fanciful, he would have sworn the blue irises darkened and sparkled.

“You gonna charge me the dry cleaning bill?”

Aidan grinned. She might be worried, her skin might be covered in perspiration and her lips red where she’d chewed at them, but she still had a sense of humor.

“I will do if you want. However, it would be easier just to take your top off.”

“Or roll the straps down and the bottom up?”

“Or that. But still not as good as giving me the space to be creative on.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Aidan saw Ross speak to Connie, who moved to the back of the room. Ross stood a few feet behind Ailsa. Close enough to intervene if necessary. Far enough away not to interfere between Dom and sub when all was well.

“I’m not sure I can go that far, Sir. Not yet.” Not ever, her tone implied.

Aidan decided to leave the status quo as it was. “Then straps down and bottom rolled up to where you feel comfortable.” Maybe she wasn’t one of the topless and don’t care brigade on the beach. Or maybe it was the fact that the small dungeon had an intimate feel to it, whereas a wide sandy beach was anonymous. Whatever, Aidan decided if they didn’t move on, he’d waste his wax, and still be negotiating at midnight.

“Now, pet.” He might as well let her know he was the Dom, and he was ready to move.

It worked. She sat up and carefully worked the straps over her shoulders and tucked them under her arms, before rolling the bottom of the top upwards and tucking it under her breasts. Then without any prompting, she resumed the prone position from before and put her wrists by the ties, ready for them.

Aidan didn’t waste any more time, and fastened her as he wanted. “Remember it’s up to you to tell me if you’re uncomfortable. I can see signs, but I’m not a mind reader. Ross will be just behind you, and Connie will be in the room but out of the way.”

He rolled the table on which he’d put what he needed nearer and took up the first candle.

“Look at me, pet. Remember to breathe and absorb the sting. Feel the heat, imagine how beautiful you’ll look with a wax tattoo.”

He held her gaze and carefully lifted the steadily burning candle high, before tilting it. Gradually, the wax slid down the taper. Gently the first drop began to fall, like a raindrop caught in slow motion, down toward Ailsa.

Before it hit, the next droplet formed and fell, and Aidan moved the candle to direct the flow.

The first wax touched.

Chapter Five

Ailsa couldn’t take her eyes off the tiny teardrop shaped orb of molten wax as it fell toward her. It was all well and good being told to regulate your breathing, absorb the pain and breathe through it, but it didn’t help at all when you had no idea what it all meant. Why hadn’t she fessed up and said she wasn’t the sub?

Because that would have dropped her even deeper in the mire and he might have been the one to say red.

The wax hit her chest and she gasped, made a noise between a sob and a scream and stifled the swear words that came to mind. The sting wasn’t a sting. It was pain. Red hot radiating pain that filled her, and made her breath come in short, sharp pants, and caused her to pull at her restraints.

Her tongue felt like cotton wool, which filled her mouth and made it dry and unusable. It was hard to clamp down on the panic she felt. How could she shout red when her voice wouldn’t work? Even the fact that Aidan was staring at her intently didn’t help. He said he could read her, damn it, so why wasn’t he stopping?

It was like something out of a horror film as the next drop of wax, and the next got closer and closer to her body, and hit.

Onto the swell of her breasts, one by one and close to each other. The sting struck, the pain began… Ailsa coughed. “Ahhh, ohh r…” She stopped speaking. The pain was different. Oh it stung, but the sting was like someone was trailing their finger over her skin, creating tiny pulses of pleasure.

Aidan straightened the candle up so the wax gathered in the shallow dip by the wick.

“Color?”

His voice wasn’t steady and that tiny hint of vulnerability resonated with Ailsa.

“Green, oh my, argh.” She was babbling but didn’t give a damn. “More please. Take my top off.” She knew without a shadow of a doubt she wanted to see what he would achieve without having to try to miss the strip of cloth that covered her breasts. “Really, Sir, green. I want to feel it all. You were right, the pain isn’t an ouchie pain, it’s an ‘I want to feel more’ pain. Green.”

Would he do as she wanted? How on earth could he, without untying her and spoiling the moment?

Three seconds later, Ailsa realized she shouldn’t have worried. After all he was a Dom and probably used to subs changing their minds like they changed their knickers. Aidan nodded, put the candle down in a safety holder on the table, and lifted a wicked-looking knife from the table. The blade was a good nine inches long, with a serrated edge and a sharp point and the handle was thick and indented for fingers and thumbs, to enable the user to clasp it safely.

It was one thing to tell yourself that he would be more than competent when he used it, another not to find your heart beating faster when the tip slid almost lazily across your skin and the point lifted the wax that clung there. Aidan flicked the cold pieces away like he was brushing crumbs from a tablecloth. Then he slid the blade of the knife under her top between her breasts and pushed upward. The material parted as if it was held together by a thread, not a tight-knit weave, and slid over her sensitive breasts and nipples to allow cool air to caress them like a lover’s kiss. Aidan smiled and rested the cold flat of the blade over her heart and moved it carefully over her skin.

“One day, I’ll scribe you.”

He said the words so quietly that Ailsa thought he was talking to himself.

“Ready to be decorated, pet?”

No more mention of scribing?
Ailsa wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or disappointed. Mind you, her idea as to what it meant was somewhat hazy. Scratches that didn’t last? She made a mental note to research it.
Hold on, woman, learn to accept and like one thing at once. Walk, don’t run.
Aidan cleared his throat, and Ailsa realized she hadn’t answered him.

“Oh, yes, Sir.” She regulated her breathing, a lot happier now she knew what to expect, and relaxed into the hard mattress as best as she could. How she wished her head was raised a little so she could see better.

Was he a mind reader? Aidan replaced the knife in its cover and bent to reach under the bed. With a whirring noise, the top third tilted a little, just enough for Ailsa to be able to look down her body. Then he stood back, picked up two candles and held one in each hand.

He didn’t speak again, but began to rotate and move his hands. It was mesmerizing to watch as he twisted and turned them and wax slid and slipped down the length of their candles. Tiny granules formed and twisted and almost shimmered as they spiraled down toward her skin.

When the first one hit, Ailsa stopped thinking and let her senses fill her instead. The sting, the tug on her heart, the way her inner muscles tightened and her pussy throbbed, all morphed into one hazy, arousal-filled sensation of pleasure.

With each new arc of wax, somewhere else began to sting and sing. Aidan knew what he was doing, and created a web of wax to decorate her skin. Nothing formal but a beautiful intricate design that any abstract artist would be proud of. Something as good as an old master by a new Master. That thought would have made her snigger except she didn’t want to miss one second of what was happening.

Then, suddenly it was over. Aidan put down the candles, untied her and wrapped the blanket Ross had handed him around her, without removing the wax.

Ailsa began to shake, and burst into tears. He cuddled her close and stroked her hair.

“Shhh, let it out, it’s normal and natural. There, there.” He held her close and whispered nonsensical words until she quieted.

Ailsa sniffed and looked around. “Can I have a tissue, please?”

Connie handed her one and she whispered her thanks. Her voice didn’t seem to belong to her. None of her did. It was strange and disquieting.

She wondered what happened next. After all she was still coated in wax, half naked and in a room with virtual strangers. For the first time she saw the sense in having more than one person around. As long as they weren’t all ax murderers.

After all, what did she know about any of them? Not a lot, not even about Jess, who after all could have changed considerably since school. And Connie might be a policewoman, but that wouldn’t negate being a drug dealer or one of the aforementioned ax murderers.

Aidan pinched her cheek. “I can see your mind’s back in gear, working overtime adding two and two and making seventeen. Just think how lucky you’ve been. An awesome play session with a fantastic Dom.”

He rolled his eyes and she gave a half giggle. One thing was certain. He was able to make fun of himself.

“No one bugging you for answers to questions you know fine well you need to answer, and amazing aftercare. About which…” He stood up and carried her back on the table and set her down on the mattress. “Lie back.” Once she did so he opened the blanket.

Ailsa experienced the horrible sensation of being naked and vulnerable.

“Time to lift the wax. Do you need fastening?”

“No, I’m fine.” He raised one eyebrow and Ailsa realized she’d forgotten to add his title. She was too drained to care. To her intense relief he didn’t comment or pull her up. He took up the knife once more.

“I’m lifting the wax with this. Hold still because otherwise there is the chance I might nick you.”

The word nick conjured up a very different picture in Ailsa’s mind. Handcuffs and…

Stop it. Concentrate on not getting cut.

Within a few minutes all the wax had gone and Aidan wrapped her in the blanket once more and lifted her into his arms before sitting in a comfortable armchair. Across the room Ross was holding Connie, and Ailsa discovered she had no idea what the couple had done, if anything. It was so unlike her to become so absorbed with one thing she was oblivious to everything else that it brought her up with a start. Not the way for an undercover policewoman to behave, even if there were extenuating circumstances. She was going to have to pull back and think things over. Ailsa gave herself the luxury of being held for a few moments. It was bliss to revel in Aidan’s soft breath on her skin, the way he held her tight, but not uncomfortably so, and the way he nuzzled her head and occasionally stroked her back over the blanket.

As much as she could have stayed like that for ever, Ailsa forced herself to sit up.

“I’m fine now. Thank you, Sir.” She remembered to add the title. “I’ll go and change.”

Aidan stared at her. “Connie will go with you so you don’t get lost.”

And go where you shouldn’t, was the inference. She’d sort out Connie when she had to. “Of course, Sir. Thank you.”

Aidan lifted her off his lap and stood her onto the floor. “Why do I think you’re up to something?” he asked rhetorically as Connie approached them. He patted Ailsa on her bum. “See you in the lounge area in a few minutes.”

Ailsa nodded and followed Connie out of the dungeon. Once they were out of earshot of the men, Connie grabbed Ailsa by her blanket covered shoulder. “What are you going to say?”

“I’ve no idea.” Ailsa opened the door to their changing room and began to throw her clothes on. Once she was covered, she leaned on the wall. “What are you?”

“Me? Oh fuck. You’ve dropped me in it as well, haven’t you? Ross and I are just sorting things out, and now I’ve either got to lie to him and protect him, or compromise my job.”

Ailsa looked at her white-faced companion. “Not necessarily. You can just say when you woke up I’d gone.”

Connie blinked. “What do you mean by that, ma’am?”

So she was back to ma’am now. Ailsa decided that helped her to do what she was about to do.

“This.” She clipped Connie on the jaw with her left fist and caught her as her head flipped backward and she lost consciousness. Yet again, Ailsa thanked the less than politically correct lessons she’d had the opportunity to attend and take heed of.

Ailsa slid the blanket she’d so recently had wrapped round herself under Connie’s head, and looked around the room. In the corner was a neat pile of clean towels and she used a couple to tuck round Connie. She reckoned she had around five or six minutes to get away. Not long, but she could hide out in the passage or the lean-to if she had to. As long as she got into the passage without being found.

She left the room and made her way up the servants’ stairs to the room where the entrance to the passage was situated. Luckily it was well away from the dungeon
and
she had remembered her way around the rebuilt castle from her previous investigations.

Within minutes, she slipped into the room she needed without meeting anyone. Somewhere nearby a phone rang. Ailsa worked the mechanism, slid through the gap in the wall even before the panel had stopped moving and pressed the knobs to close the aperture. There was a horrendous grinding noise and the panel stopped moving, leaving a three inch gap between the wall and the edge of the paneling.

Ailsa swore and tried to move it. No such luck. It seemed the aging mechanism had decided enough was enough. The only consolation was that if it was jammed where it was, no one would be able to follow her, unless they were a contortionist with an ability to get through such a tiny space. Nonetheless, she had no intention of chancing it. Fumbling slightly until she touched the webbing strap, Ailsa picked up her rucksack and felt her way to the top step. She daren’t turn on her torch, just in case someone entered the room behind her. Instead of an empty room, it was furnished now and Ailsa had no idea who used it or when.