The Berkeley Method (20 page)

“As an adult, it became even more ingrained,” he says. “I had some… some strong evidence that people I care for get hurt.” He shakes his head. “Of course, I’ve discussed it with therapists. I understand the rationale of why my thinking is awry. But
, I can’t shake the belief. Because I’ve seen it come true.”

The ex
-girlfriend. The drug overdose. Is this what he means?
Something tells me that now isn’t the time to ask. It’s been painful for him to open up as much as he has.

“And now,” continues James, “you’ve got this maniac stalker on your tail. My biggest fear is coming true.”

“You are
not
to blame,” I say fiercely, “for this situation. There is nothing wrong with you. This situation is an accident. Nothing more.”

James is shaking his head.

“It was expected that he might target one of my pictures,” he says, softly. “The police warned me.”

Why would the stalker target a movie directed by James?
Then I realise.

“Because of the fame thing,” I say slowly, “because you have a reputation for making actors very famous.”

“Yes,” James admits with a sigh. “But I never thought you would be in danger.”

It’s starting to make more sense to me now. The security. The fingerprints. I thought it seemed excessive.

“You knew all along,” I say. “That’s what all the security was for. And you never told me.”

James nods. “You didn’t need to know. I thought I could protect you. Now I’ve put you in harm’s way. And I only have myself to blame.”

I shake my head slowly.
How can I change his thinking?

“This… belief of yours,” I say, thinking out loud. “Is this tied up with your need for obedience?”

James’s lip twitches at my choice of words. He nods.

“Tied up, yes. My past is complicated,” he says. “In fact, it’s messed up. It’s very messed up. And believe me, Issy, if you knew the half of it, I don’t think you would be sitting here.”

Is this the problem? He thinks I’ll run away if I know the real him?

“What do you mean by messed up?” I challenge him. “Do you mean sexual things?”

Another little mouth twitch.

“Amongst others.”

“You think I couldn’t handle your… your sexual preferences?”

“You’re pure, Issy. I’m not. I don’t want to drag you into my world.”

“You’re overestimating my vulnerability,” I say. “I’m tougher than you think.”

It’s the first time I’ve even partway alluded to my own childhood. I see him catch the subtle reference and assess it.

“And I might be sexually innocent,” I add, “but I’m brave. I’d rather try something, and get hurt, than never try it.”

This is exactly what I’m like, I realise. I have picked myself up from so much pain, it’s a wonder my legs work. But here I am. Still standing.

I stare at him, keeping my jaw steady.

James raises his eyebrows.

“What are you saying?” he asks.

“I’m saying that I want to prove to you that I wouldn’t run. I can take anything you throw at me.”

My eyes are challenging. I lower my voice.

“So
, try me out,” I say in a whisper.

I see James swallow. For the first time since I’ve met him, he looks visibly uncertain. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he says.

“I don’t,” I agree, “but I know I want you. I want to make this work.”

He looks stunned by this.

“You’ve opened up to me,” I say, trying to put how I feel into words. “I want to… to give you something back. To prove my feelings.”

“You are offering your submission?”

“Yes.”

“Sexuality is not a bargaining chip, Issy.”

“Then what is it, James?”

He smiles at this.

“It’s an adventure.”

“Then take me on an adventure.”

“Not all adventures end well,” he says, searching my face.

“And not all adventures end badly. But whatever the outcome, you’ve had an adventure.” I stare back at him, challenging him.

James picks up his gin and drains the last of it. He sets it down with infuriating slowness.

“You are always a surprise, Isabella,” he says finally. “You do realise what you are offering me?”

“No,” I admit.

He smiles at my honesty.

“A test then,” he says, almost to himself. “Let’s see if you really are as brave as all that.”

He settles his eyes on me.

“Stand up.”

Uncertainly, I get to my feet.

“I’m going to take you to my bedroom,” he says. “In a few minutes, I’m going to have you tied up, naked, and begging for mercy.”

He stares straight into my eyes as he says this, as though daring me to chicken out.

No way.

I meet his gaze.

“Who says I’ll beg for mercy?” I say slowly.

James gives a low laugh. “I do.”

Chapter 2
2

“Here are the rules,” says James, guiding me into his bedroom. It’s the same stunning contemporary décor as the rest of the apartment, I notice. His bedroom looks a little like a space shuttle, all white walls and curved sixties furnishings. I feel myself mentally adding a few colourful quilts and cushions.

The bed is slightly different, with a slatted headboard.

All the better for tying you to
, says a little voice in my head.

“For the next two hours, you obey every command I make,” he says.

“Like in the hotel,” I say, remembering our agreement in the Metropolitan.

“Yes.” James is standing behind me. He brings his mouth very close to my ear. “Except that this time around, I won’t be showing any restraint.”

I feel a little thrill of fear run though me. What does he have planned? I know the contents of my bedside drawers have been transported to his apartment. Are they here in this room?

“If, at any time, you are uncomfortable,” continues James, “tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

“I won’t,” I say quietly.

James purses his lips. He looks impressed. “Courageous girl,” he says. “But we’ll see. Get over to the bed, and take off your clothes.”

He waits in the doorway as I walk slowly across the room. I turn to face him, a little of my bravado melting away, now that I have to strip for him.

“You can always change your mind,” says James, catching my expression.

In answer, I unclip the belt around my hips and drop it carefully onto the bed.

“We can find a use for that,” murmurs James as it falls onto the white covers.

Keeping my eyes on him, I draw off my knee-high boots. And then, taking a little breath for courage, I slide my dress up and off.

As it momentarily covers my eyes, James disappears. When he comes into view again, his face is changed. Before his face was interested, assured. Now the expression is predatory.

What am I getting myself into?
Only one way to fine out.

“I had forgotten,” says James, his voice coming thickly, “that I had bought you that underwear. I never realised quite how you would look in it.”

The underwear
. In all that’s going on, I had forgotten I was wearing the beautiful pink underwear he bought me.

James cocks his head slightly to one side.

“Turnaround,” he orders.

Already, my body has started to respond to his command. I feel warmth drawing through my limbs, pooling in my groin.

I hesitate for a moment, and he raises his eyebrow.

“Rebellion already?” he says. “It will go harder on you later.”

I swallow and turn my back on him, exposing the thin pink ribbons criss-crossing my behind.

I hear him make a soft intake of breath.

“It’s going to be more difficult than I thought,” he says levelly, “not to take you right now. But you needn’t worry, Ms. Green. I have a lot of practise at restraint.”

Faced away from him, I feel intensely vulnerable. I have no idea what’s going on behind me. I move to turn my head, and feel a sudden firm slap on my behind.

Wow. I hadn’t realised he was so close.
My rear end is ringing from the slap. I feel lust surge through me.

“Don’t turn around.” His tone is severe.

I keep my head faced forwards. Something in his voice is so strong, so undeniably authoritative. My body is already begging for him.

Behind me, I hear him retrieving something from a drawer.

What is he getting? The anticipation is delicious and a little frightening.

Then he’s behind me again.

“Take off your underwear,” he says. “Slowly. Make it a show for me.”

Slowly, I reach to my bra straps, letting them fall off my shoulders. Then I unhook the back and let the bra fall away.

“Very nice,” murmurs James. He presses closer to me. I can feel his erection against my behind. “Now the panties,” he whispers.

Swallowing, I inch them off at the sides as best I can with him pressed against me. He draws back a little as I let them drop to the floor and step out of them.

Then he’s pulling my arms over my head and binding them tight at the wrists.

He throws me onto the bed, so I land on my stomach. And then he’s tying me firmly to the headboard.

“It’s nice to have you so well restrained,” he says, bringing his body to lie on top of mine.

I am flat on my front, with my hands raised from their restraint to the headboard.

I feel his weight on top of me, and the hardness of him through his jeans. He runs his hands down my naked sides, and I shiver.

Then he raises himself up. James is kneeling on either side of my legs now, pinning me to the bed. He leans right, to pick something up.

Suddenly, I feel a new sensation trailing over my back.

“Do you recognise this from your bedside drawer?” he asks.

I track my mind back to the contents, trying to match the feeling with an object. Then my memory fixes on one.

The whip. I feel a little pulse of fear.

I mentally outline the leather handle, with multiple long fronds attached.

“That’s right,” says James, noticing me flinch slightly. “All these little leather parts feel quite sensual, trailed over the skin.”

He continues the tantalising soft trailing, allowing the individual fronds to slide over my skin. Used gently like this, the whip is making my skin ultrasensitive. A delicious tease, working over my back.

I let out a little moan as he moves the whip to track over my behind.

Then he stands up, and I realise the teasing is over.

“It is possible to use this whip to raise sensation,” says James. “But of course, it has another use. You may have noticed that all these soft leather parts have a little hard knot on the end.”

He uses his finger to move one of the knots over my skin. But this time, he is firmer. I feel the tight knot graze over my lower back.

Without meaning to, I give a little shudder of anticipation.

“It seems as though you want to be punished,” observes James.

I am unable to reply. There are so many conflicting feelings happening at once.

I have told him I will take anything he can do to me. But am I ready for it, really?

“I have just made your skin hypersensitive,” says James. “Even a little more firmness would give you some very interesting sensations.”

He lets the fronds of the whip drop gently onto my back.

I gasp as the knotted ends hit my highly sensitised skin.

Desire rushes through every part of me. My entire body is pulsing.

“So
, you can imagine,” says James slowly, “how it might feel, were I to put any force behind this.”

I tug a little at my restraints. My arms are tied firmly to the top of the bed.

“Stay still,” says James quietly. His hand slaps my behind. The sharp contact makes me take a sharp intake of breath. I stop moving instantly.

“I am going to whip you now, Isabella,” says James. “Are you ready?”

I make a little whimper of acceptance.

His hand slams into my behind.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes,” I manage.

“Good,” says James. “This is your submission to me. You are mine, to do what I will with.”

He lets the fronds gently drop onto my back again. I suppress an uncertain noise.

“Do you understand that?” he says.

“Yes,” I agree, faster to reply this time.

“Good,” says James. “Now. Keep still. I am going to give you the first lash.”

There’s an excruciating pause, and for a moment I think he may have changed his mind.