Sexy as Hell Box Set (60 page)

One could only hope.

“Get up, you lazy fucker!” I said to Ollie, giving him a shove to one shoulder.

He was flat out on the bed, snores coming from him that weren’t in any way endearing. I had the urge to cover his nose and mouth with my hand but stifled it, giving him another push instead.

“Wake up!”

He opened his eyes, let out a groggy-sounding groan, then smiled at the sight of me looming over him. God, he appeared lovesick. I’d have to do something about that. He was getting far too attached—far too familiar. Our teacher-student relationship was bordering on him thinking he was my boyfriend, and I couldn’t have that. Mind you, that was partly my fault. I’d been pretending to be his girlfriend since we’d met up on the plane, so what was the man supposed to think? The messages I’d been sending him were far from how our relationship had started out.

Shit.

A thought came to mind, and I said, “We must do some more training, Ollie. This holiday has the potential to make you forget your place. I may well be giving the impression that we’re together in a more loving sense, but that’s because I don’t want to offend Catherine. After all, you’re Victor’s cousin, and for her to know exactly what you and I are doing wouldn’t go down too well. So, for all intents and purposes we’re a couple, but I want to make it clear to you it’s just for show. Got it?”

The happiness drizzled out of his face. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. Now we have that cleared up, I have a test for you.”

“A test?” He raised himself onto his elbows, looking like a man with a hangover, all dishevelled hair and five o’clock shadow.

“Yes, a test. I want to see if you can manage something else while in company.”

“What something is that?” He sat fully upright then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stood and raked a hand through his hair.

“I want you to wank under the table during dinner.”

“What!”

“You heard me. I want you to come too—without groaning, shuddering, or giving any indication as to what your dirty little hand and fingers are up to.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“Like I’m fond of saying, he won’t help you. Your behaviour on the plane when you came was intolerable, by the way. Which reminds me, you need punishing for that. It was so obvious what had happened.”

“Oh, I thought I’d done really well.”

I pursed my lips, widened my eyes. “No, you didn’t. Take your trousers and boxers off, get back on the bed, belly to the mattress, and prepare yourself for your punishment.”

“Will it hurt, Mistress?” he asked, working quickly to remove his lower clothing.

He was getting good, I had to give him that. He was stripping almost as quickly as Carlos did if I promised him pain. He was definitely getting hooked on the endorphins, on the sub space he could plateau out in.

“Of course it will hurt, that’s the whole point!” I moved away from him and went to my case. “I have a new toy, and it’s perfect for you.”

“What is it, Mistress?”

I glanced over to see him climbing on the bed. He looked both eager and apprehensive.

“A vampire glove.”

“A
what?
” He stared at me over his shoulder.

“I’m not going to continually repeat myself, Ollie.”

I dug inside my luggage and pulled out a glove that would look, to anyone else, like a common leather one. I turned it over, and there was the difference. Along the underside of each finger was a set of fine teeth, finer than cactus spikes but just as sharp. I slid the glove onto my right hand then walked to stand beside the bed. Held it out so he could see the fine slithers of sharp metal.

“I’m going to spank you with this glove on,” I said. “Not much, but enough to make you see sense, make you understand this isn’t a game. You were bad on the plane and need to take your punishment like a man. I will warn you, though, that you may bleed a little. At the very least you’ll have incredibly sore scratches.”

He let out a sigh, cheeks puffing. “Whatever you say, Mistress.”

His gaze caught mine. A flash of excitement, a whole load of curiosity, and, I was pleased to see, a healthy dose of submission too. He was learning, finally, to take what his Mistress was giving him.

“Right. Arse up, and move down to the end of the bed. I don’t want to have to stretch to smack you.”

He did as I’d asked. His cock was hard and bobbed beneath him, tapping his belly. When he reached for his erection I allowed him to keep a tight hold—he would need something to anchor himself with for what was coming.

I moved to stand at the bottom of the bed and, with his arse nicely presented, I swung my arm back then arced it down, connecting my hand with one cheek. The slap of leather on skin was drowned out by his animalistic wail, and he jerked about, causing more damage than he would have done had he remained still. The tiny spikes ripped across his skin. Before he could compose himself, I slapped him again on this other cheek. He shouted out a word I couldn’t understand then flopped down sideways, panting, eyes screwed tightly shut. He balled his free hand into a fists and snorted air out of his nose. His other hand was going like the clappers with him masturbating furiously, his cockhead coming into view each time he beat down to his root.

That would be enough punishment. For now. And luckily it seemed to be having the desired effect. He was harnessing the pain, turning it into pleasure.

He’d never be as efficient at doing it as Carlos was, but still, like his cousin, he had potential to be a masochist.

I leant forward to inspect his skin as any good
Domme would. His right cheek was scratched to buggery, and blood welled up along each tiny dark-pink line. His left just had four finger shapes of several spots, a lighter shade of pink.

I imagined he was hurting quite a bit.

Good.

“Now,” I said. “When you’ve finished fiddling you’re going to shower and spruce yourself up—you look like a tramp—and I’m going to see what I can rustle up for dinner. Catherine and Victor don’t know about our meal yet, but they soon will. I shall kick your ankle under the table when I expect you to start wanking, and we’ll go from there.”

He didn’t answer. Just continued his snorty breathing and wanking.

“Answer me,” I snapped.

Still nothing.

Would he ever learn? Would he ever not need punishing? “Stop snivelling and get yourself off that bed now, sub!” I shouted. “And what’s the point in coming now when you have to all over again in a little while?”

I pulled his arm away from his cock, and he stared up at me, dazed.

That had been cruel. Even I could see that. To stop him just then, deny him the final countdown, especially during a blood-play scene.

He shook me off, scrambled up then scuttled across the tiled floor to the en suite bathroom. He closed the door without looking at me once. God, he was such a baby. Funny that, considering he’d tried to make out he was a strong hunk when we’d first met. I was enjoying bringing him to his knees.

I put the glove away, reminding myself to clean it thoroughly later, zipped up my bag, then sauntered out of the room. Ollie was probably wanking in the shower, but that was okay, it was up to him. As long as he had enough gumption to get it up again in a little while, that was fine. Otherwise—and I sighed as the thought went through my mind—I’d have to think of another damn forfeit. He was making me weary.

In the kitchen, I rummaged through the cupboards and fridge, finding the right ingredients for a pasta-based meal, one rather like Victor had once made for us. Pleased that Catherine had such thoughtful friends, whose actions in stocking the place had meshed right in with my plans, I went about cooking.

Before long I heard the shuffle of someone entering the room. I turned from the hob to see Catherine hobbling towards me as though she had a serious case of haemorrhoids. I smiled at her warmly then turned back to what I’d been doing.

“What are you making?” she asked, leaning one hip against a cupboard beside me.

“Just a little something for dinner.” I looked across at her, smiled again. “We haven’t had much, just those little caviar and smoked salmon canapés on the plane. Hardly enough for sparrows.”

“I agree, but, and I hate to be a terrible nuisance, there aren’t any onions in it, are there?”

“No, why?”

“That’s good, I’m horribly allergic to them. They bring me out in hives. Shocking really, always makes me feel itchy and sick. I can’t go to work if I accidently eat some, can hardly get out of bed, in fact.”

“That sounds nasty.”

“It is.”

“Well, you’re quite safe from onions tonight.” I sprinkled in some black pepper. “I gathered you’d been having a nap after the journey and didn’t think you’d feel up to going out to eat. I hope you don’t mind that I presumed.”

“Oh, that’s so lovely! How very thoughtful!”

She had tears in her eyes.

I frowned, let go of the wooden spoon I’d been stirring some diced chicken with, then pushed the pan off the heat. “Are you all right?” I laid my hand on her forearm.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “It’s just that…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It must matter if you’re upset,” I said, trying to read what was in her eyes. Indecision as to whether to trust me?

“No, no, it’ll be okay. I’m just being silly.”

“All right, but if you ever need to talk…”

“Thank you. But no, I’ll be absolutely fine.” She moved away to take a glass from a wall cabinet, sploshing some of the champagne from earlier into it. She drank half of it then topped it up. “Yes. I’ll be absolutely fine. So, what can I do to help?”

“Perhaps lay the table for me?” I smiled again.

“Of course,” she said, back to her irritatingly bubbly self. “Not a problem!”

She left the room, and I busied myself with the meal, draining the pasta once it looked as though it had cooked and mixing that and the chicken together in a cheesy sauce. Ollie came in as I was transferring it all into a serving bowl, wincing as his underwear no doubt scuffed across his skin.

“Did you enjoy your shower?” I asked.

He didn’t catch my eye, and I took that to mean he’d
wanked without permission, shot his load all over the tiled wall.

“The water and soap stung a bit, Mistress.”

“That’s a shame. Could you get the garlic baguettes out of the oven, please? Then we’re about ready for your performance.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

I watched him, strangely excited about the next hour or so. Once again Victor would know exactly what was going on and Catherine would be oblivious. If she couldn’t pick up on the fact that a man was coming right in front of her, that alone should tell him she wasn’t the woman for him.

“This is delicious,” Catherine said, putting one tube of pasta into her mouth at a time.

“Thank you.” I looked across the table at Ollie. “Do you like it?”

“Yes, Mis… I mean, yes, mine’s lovely.”

“Good, sweetie.” I smiled at Ollie then studied Victor. “Is it okay for you?”

“I suppose,” Victor said. “I was hungry and everything tastes better when you have an appetite.”

God, he was so churlish. I resisted the urge to throw in something about his cooking—which couldn’t actually be faulted—and instead kicked Ollie’s ankle.

He jerked, snapped his attention to me then lowered his head, shoved a forkful of pasta into his mouth, sipped his drink.

Bloody hell, if he didn’t get on with it quick I’d have that vampire glove back on him before he could say buffalo-fucking-mozzarella.

He transferred the fork into his left hand, wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin and then put that and his hand beneath the old pine table, out of view.

I supped my wine and glanced at Victor. He was oblivious. How long would it stay that way?

“So do we have any plans for tomorrow?” I asked.

“Not really.” Victor sprinkled more parmesan over his dinner.

“I thought you and Victor had maybe discussed it earlier,” Catherine said, looking from me to Victor then glugging on her wine.

“What do you mean?” Victor asked with a frown.

“When you went for your walk.” She pointed her fork towards the kitchen door. “I saw you, up by the trees.”

Victor glanced at me. I gave the tiniest shrug. He could get out of that one, wasn’t my fault if our conversation had made me laugh out loud and the sound had carried on the breeze, or if Miss Nosey-Pants had spied.

“We didn’t go for a walk together,” Victor said grumpily. “Like I’d told you before I went, Catherine, I was getting some air and needed to answer a text.
She
just happened to be there too.”

“She. What am I? The cat’s mother?” I looked at Ollie. He wasn’t wanking yet, he was just staring at me with the same suspicious glint in his eye that Catherine had. He could stop that nonsense for a start, and if he didn’t he wouldn’t sit down for the rest of the holiday. “Eat your dinner, you’ll need your energy for later,” I said sweetly and stroked my finger down his arm. At the same time I kicked him again.

“That sounds like a promise,” he said through gritted teeth.

“It is.” I turned and grinned at Catherine. “Ollie and I are very much in love, you know, there’s no need for you to worry about there being anything between Victor and me if that is what you’re suggesting.” I laughed, threw my head back and let the sound ripple around the table. “Oh my goodness, how could there be?”

“What do you mean?” Catherine pushed her hair behind her ears and poked at her pasta.

“Well.” I leant forward, glanced at Ollie, who appeared to be fiddling beneath the table, and lowered my voice. “He just couldn’t handle me.”

“Zara.” Victor slammed his fork down. “Would you just stop talking crap all the time. We hardly even dated.”

“Oh.” Catherine glanced between us. “So you never…”

“What?” I asked, slipping off my shoe and stroking my foot up Ollie’s leg, to just past his knee. I curled my toes into his trousers, tugged a little.

Catherine glanced at Victor, as if for assistance, colour rising on her cheeks. “You never…?”

Silence.

“Fucked?” I asked, then took a big mouthful of wine and stared her in the eye.

“Well, I…er…I was going to say make love.” She shifted on her chair.

God, she couldn’t even handle the word
fuck
. How the hell did Victor think she’d ever be able to learn how to do it?

I raised my eyebrows at Victor and held up my hands. “I suppose honesty is the best policy in a situation like this, wouldn’t you agree?”

His lips tightened into a hard slash. He frowned and ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up adorably. He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. But there was something defeated about the gesture. He knew me too well, knew that I’d say whatever the hell I wanted.

I eyed Ollie. His lips were parted, his pupils wide. I’d say this whole conversation about me and Victor fucking was getting him off. Freak? I was pretty sure he was stroking his cock now. I could just make out his forearm moving.

“Catherine,” I said, “I should tell you that yes, we made love.” I gave an apologetic downturn of my lips. “Once—only once, though.”

“Zara,” Victor snapped.

“Just once?” Catherine repeated and again glugged on her wine.

“Yes, but we were just too incompatible. You see, I like to be in charge in the bedroom and Victor couldn’t handle that. Not at all. He’s too much of a man and he always likes to get his own way.”

“Oh,” Catherine said. “Well, yes, I see.”

“Do you?” I narrowed my eyes. “Do you really, Catherine?”

“I think so.”

“Shall I explain?”

“No,” Victor huffed. “For Christ’s sake shut up, Zara.” He glanced at Ollie. “And what the bloody hell are you doing under the table?”

“Nothing.” Ollie pressed his lips together, stared at his pasta.

“Do you feel unwell, sweetie?” I asked, rubbing my foot down his leg. “You appear a little flushed.”

“I’m fine.” Ollie shoved a chunk of bread into his mouth. His right hand and the napkin re-appeared.

Oh, he was in trouble now. Absolute disobedience. He was supposed to be wanking. It was a shame I hadn’t brought the bullwhip—that on top of the vampire glove would make for an interesting pattern on his arse. “Perhaps you should go and lie down.”

“No, really, I’m fine.” He stared at me with a glimmer of defiance in his eyes.

Where the hell had that come from? Was it my comment about Victor being too much of a man to let me be in control? If it was, then he’d just raised the bar on the punishments he’d get this week. Bullwhip or no bullwhip, I was nothing if not inventive.

“Please, go on, Zara,” Catherine said.

I glanced at Victor. He was so damn handsome when he was trying to control me, make me bend to his will. He got this upward tilt of his jaw and his eyebrows pulled together, creating a vertical line between them. I shifted on my chair, felt a tug in my pussy, the first flame of desire.

“Catherine,” I said, reaching over and resting my hand on hers. “Maybe we should have a girly chat later, when the boys aren’t around.” I winked. “We can’t let them in on all of our secrets now, can we?”

She turned to face Victor. He was still staring at me.

“Well yes,” she said. “Okay, if you think that’s best.”

“I do, Catherine, I really do.”

When the meal was finished, Victor and Ollie started on the washing up and I linked my arm with Catherine’s.

“Come on, let’s take a bottle of wine to the den. The sunset will look lovely from there.”

She hesitated, but only briefly, then grabbed a bottle off the table along with her glass. “Yes, you’re right, and you shouldn’t do the washing up, not when you cooked.”

“I agree.” I wouldn’t have done it even if I hadn’t cooked. That’s what I had Ollie for.

The den was much smaller than the main living room. It was warm and cosy and had a big window and a glass door looking out over the lake. I suspected it was the room beneath our bedroom as I could see the overhang of our balcony.

“We can light the fire if it gets cold later,” Catherine said, sitting on a large, squidgy sofa and tucking her feet beneath her.

I helped myself to a drink and sat close, glanced at the big stone fireplace pre-set with kindling and logs. It wouldn’t take long to get it going. “Good idea.”

“So tell me what you meant about Victor not being able to handle you?”

Her breath was sweet with wine. I didn’t think she’d have been brave enough to have this conversation if she’d been sober. I only hoped she remembered it all—well, the main points anyway, that Victor was the complete opposite to the type of man she wanted.

I glanced at the doorway as if to show that I really didn’t want the men to hear us. “As I said, I like to be in control in the bedroom, that’s the kind of woman I am.”

“By doing what? How are you in control?”

I shrugged. “You know, a bit of arse paddling, the odd bondage session.”

Her eyes widened. “You like to get your bum smacked?”

“Oh, no, I like to smack theirs.” As a general rule, though, Victor was, of course, my only exception. Victor could spank my arse in the most delicious of ways that had me passing out with pleasure when he finally finished me off.

“Gosh, really?” She gulped on her wine. “Why do you like to smack men’s bottoms?”

“Why not? It’s bloody good fun. Ollie loves it. I bend him over, whack his arse with my paddle, get him all hot and bothered, and then we fuck and it’s amazing.”

Catherine’s cheeks were bright red, as if she’d been slapped in the face. “Oh, oh, well, I see.”

“He comes so hard,” I whispered, “he says it’s the best foreplay ever.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t do it if he didn’t like it, would I? He begs for it most of the time. Literally begs.”

She looked at the doorway as if trying to imagine quiet, meek Ollie bent over and me laying into him. “Has he ever hit
your
bottom?”

“No, not a chance. He just wouldn’t, he likes being hit. But it’s not my thing so it makes no difference to me. I’m a hitter, he’s a taker. That’s what makes us compatible.”

“Did you, you know, do that with Victor when you made love that one time?”

I shrugged. “Look, I’m sorry, he’s your man now, you don’t want to hear this.”

“I do, really I do, because…”

“What?”

She shook her head.

“Is this connected to why you were upset in the kitchen earlier?” I asked.

She sighed, seemed to make a decision and nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“So tell me, perhaps I can help.”

“Answer me first.”

“About what?”

“Did you do that spanking thing with Victor?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Oh.” She touched her lips. “And did he like it?”

“Not so much. He wanted to bend me over his knee and spank me, which of course was one of the reasons I said we were incompatible. I have to respect my boundaries and my needs. I like to be the spanker not the spanked. I like to be in control not be controlled.”

“And Victor likes control too.” She nodded again slowly. It hadn’t been a question. It was a statement.

“It seems he does.” And he was so damn good at it. With the right woman he’d be a perfect Master. Shame that woman wasn’t me. “You can’t both be in control now, can you, that just doesn’t work.”

“I’m quite happy to give up control,” she said quietly. “In fact, I don’t mind at all.”

“There’s a difference between giving up control and letting a man do what he wants to you.”

“Yes, but—”

I had to stop this train of thought. Damn, I’d taken it down the wrong path. “You have to love yourself, Catherine, before someone else can love you.”

“I do, it’s just—”

“Think about what
your
needs are. If you sacrifice them to be with one person then you’ll be disrespecting yourself. I don’t mean to be unkind here, Catherine, but do you think you can handle Victor doing all of the things men want to do to women? Dark, sordid, painful things that will make you feel dirty and used?”

She glanced away. I was getting to her. Good.

I topped up our wine.

“I let him, you know, earlier,” she said.

Yeah, I did know. “What?”

“Up my.” She took a mouthful of wine, swallowed noisily. “Bum.”

I feigned surprise by widening my eyes. “And how was it?”

“Unexpected. Sore to start with, and then, well, he was clearly enjoying it so I let it continue.”

“But you didn’t come?”

She nibbled on her bottom lip.

“Look,” I said. “We’re being brutally honest here, aren’t we? So we might as well continue in the same vein.”

“Yes, okay. Well, I thought I might, come as you say, after a while, once I’d got used to it. But it really was so strange, like the pain and pleasure had fused and then suddenly it was all over.”

“That’s what Ollie says about getting his arse smacked. The pain and pleasure mixes up.”

“He does?” Her eyes widened, and she looked a little excited, as though she understood that concept now.

Fuck it! “Yes, but much worse, all that sensitive skin getting slapped over and over. Can you imagine the agony?” I narrowed my eyes and winced.

“
Mmm, I think I can.”

Bloody hell, she was thinking of Victor paddling her arse. I could just see it now, his initials all over her scrawny cheeks. No, that paddle had been made for me, not Catherine, and the thought of her having VP on her skin made me feel sick. “You’d hate it,” I said. “It would be the most humiliating thing you’d ever done in your entire life.”