The Brat and the Master - a BDSM Erotic Novel (14 page)

‘His rooms are in New Quad,’ Adam explained, ‘built in the seventeenth century, through here.’

He led the way through a narrow, arched passage and up a stair much like the one they were staying on, to a door of iron-bound oak on the first floor. A student was just coming out, allowing them to go straight in to where Dr Burling was seated in an armchair of worn green leather.

‘Ah, Adam, Elaine,’ he greeted them. ‘Before I forget, you asked about a Mark Langley. Well, I have your answer, and a most peculiar fellow he is, apparently. He came up in ’91, as a theology student at St Jude’s, and was sent down in almost record-breaking time.’

‘Theology?’ Adam asked in surprise.

‘So it seems, although of course that may simply have represented his best chance of getting in, as is so often the case with undergraduates. I don’t suppose for a moment it was a calling, especially as he was something of a Lothario, with some highly peculiar habits, if rumour is to be believed.’

‘Peculiar habits?’ Adam queried.

‘Oh, yes,’ Dr Burling assured them. ‘Apparently, he would stride about the town in a long, leather coat, as if he owned the place, and when he managed to persuade young ladies to come back to his rooms, he used to … ah, er … tie them up and spank them, if you’ll excuse my lack of discretion, Miss McNeil.’

‘That’s quite all right,’ Elaine said, managing to maintain a suitably serious look.

‘Was that why he was sent down?’ Adam asked.

‘Oh no,’ Dr Burling continued. ‘That’s the extraordinary thing. None of the young ladies in question seem to have minded a bit – quite the opposite, in fact. He was sent down for fighting a duel.’

‘OK,’ Adam sighed, ‘so Mark has actually fought a duel, I’ll concede that much, but there’s a world of difference between spiking somebody in the leg with a fencing foil and shooting them. Anyway, it’s too late to back out now.’

‘You are so pig-headed!’ Elaine exclaimed. ‘Look, at least say you’ve changed your mind about the pistols. Fight with swords and once he’s drawn blood, he’ll be satisfied.’

‘Absolutely not. ‘He’s bad enough as it is, but after that, he’d be unbearable.’

‘And after being shot, you’d be dead!’ Elaine protested. ‘Seriously, Adam, please? For my sake?’

‘I can’t back down,’ Adam insisted. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Men!’ Elaine snapped, throwing her hands into the air. ‘OK, buy the pistols. I’m going to look at the shops and take a few photos. I’ll see you back at the college.’

‘Sorry,’ Adam repeated and was left feeling both foolish and hurt as she walked away down Shoe Lane.

For a moment he considered following her, possibly accepting her advice or even abandoning the duel altogether, only for his natural obstinacy to reassert itself as he imagined the smug, superior expression on Steelhand’s face at the news. He pushed open the door of the antique shop, stepping from sunlight and fresh air into a dusty gloom of polished brass and wood, china and crystal. A man looked up from behind the counter, short and completely bald but much younger than Adam had expected from their brief phone conversation.

‘I called earlier,’ Adam stated, ‘about duelling pistols.’

‘Ah, yes,’ the man replied. ‘We have several to choose from, including this beautiful pair from Franz Ulrich of Bern …’

‘Are they smoothbore?’ Adam interrupted.

‘I see sir is a specialist,’ the man went on, shifting his attention from one glass-fronted cabinet to another.

‘Not at all,’ Adam replied, ‘but I understand that smoothbore is considered more sporting.’

The man gave him an odd look but carried on with what he was doing, taking a worn wooden case from the display cabinet and laying it on the counter. ‘Made by Joseph Tirebuck of London,’ he explained, ‘in 1814 for one Captain McGregor, who was subsequently killed at Waterloo.’

‘That’s comforting to know.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Nothing – carry on.’

‘Er, yes … smoothbore, as requested, for a .62 ball.’

‘Do they come with ammunition?’

‘Yes, sir, in this little box. Note the gold detailing and …’

‘Perfect. I’ll take them.’

‘They are twelve-thousand pounds, sir.’

Adam made what he hoped would be interpreted as a casual gesture, although he felt privately horrified at how much money he was about to spend. The shopkeeper immediately became more eager and active than ever, explaining the rest of the story behind the pistols as he got them ready. Adam listened with a wry face, hoping he’d have better luck than the long-dead McGregor, who’d been blown from his horse at the exact moment he’d mounted up.

He left the shop feeling oddly light-headed, aware of what he was doing but unable to fully take it in, as if his actions involved somebody else. As he started back towards the High Street he was looking for Elaine, but she was nowhere to be seen and he reached St Michael’s alone. She wasn’t in her room either, and after a moment spent staring out of the window at the deer in the water meadows, he left once more, making for a gunsmith’s in the Cowley Road, where he hoped to buy gunpowder.

The shop proved to be over a mile from Magdalen Bridge, but buying the powder was easier than he’d anticipated. Dusk had begun to gather as he started back for St Michael’s and a thin rain was starting to fall with the fading light. He hurried on, glad to reach the shelter of the college lodge and the warmth of his room, where he deposited his purchases beside the gun case. Outside, it was now fully dark, with rain pattering on the windows. He went to Elaine’s room and knocked gently on the door.

‘Elaine? It’s Adam.’

‘Come in.’

Her voice was soft and as he pushed open the door, he found the room lit a dim-but-rich yellow colour by a small bedside lamp. The air was oddly hot, moist and faintly scented, suggesting she’d had a shower and turned the radiators full on. She was in bed, her body curled beneath the covers, her face turned away.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly, without turning around. ‘Don’t turn the light on, just close the door, and lock it.’

‘Are you OK?’ he asked, but she didn’t respond, save to bring her legs a little higher. As Adam drew close he saw that she was sucking her thumb.

Her eyes opened and she was looking up at him with a doubtful, almost frightened expression before they closed once more and her face became serene. Adam stepped back, unsure of how best to react, or what was expected of him, if anything. She seemed to have made herself deliberately vulnerable and inviting, and while his cock was reacting in predictable fashion he held back, knowing that with Elaine, her needs were unlikely to be simple. Just the fact that she was in bed was suggestive, and she also seemed to be in pyjamas, or at least a pyjama top, with the baby-pink collar showing above the covers.

Seating himself on her bed, he reached out to stroke her hair, at which she gave a gentle sigh but no more. His hand went to his crotch, to squeeze the rapidly hardening bulge of his cock. It was tempting to ease down his zip and replace the thumb she was sucking so earnestly with his erection, something he was fairly sure she’d accept, but as he glanced around the room he noticed a big, white towel, laid out on top of the ancient chest of drawers in a neatly folded triangle. Beside it was the powder he’d smelled in the air and a tube of some sort of cream, both set out as if intended for use. His mouth fell wide open as the implications sank in, while his cock began to stiffen more rapidly still at the thought of what she seemed to be offering.

‘You want it, don’t you?’ he asked in a whisper. ‘You want to be spanked the way you said, don’t you? You want to be spanked in a nappy.’

Elaine gave a faint shiver, no more, as if both frightened and expectant, and when she spoke, her voice was barely audible.

‘I’m sorry. Punish me.’

Adam stood, knowing what she needed and what he wanted to do, but struggling to make the two meet. It was not something that could be discussed, not when Elaine had made herself so vulnerable and shown so much trust, yet that very fact gave him a licence beyond anything he would have dared even to suggest under other circumstances. He also suspected he was now party to a secret that not even Caroline shared, making that licence more liberal still.

Moving around the bed, he came to stand behind Elaine, his heart hammering in his chest as he took hold of her bedclothes and drew them slowly down. As he’d guessed, she had on only the jacket of her pyjamas, along with the fresh white panties she’d put on earlier. He’d half-expected her to be nude below the waist, and had imagined how her cunt would peep out between her cheeks as she lay curled on her side, but finding her in panties only served to enhance his arousal.

He sat down beside her, lowering himself slowly onto the bed as if she had really been asleep and was likely to wake up at any moment. Reaching out, he first lifted the tail of her pyjama top to leave her bottom on full show, then began to stroke her bare thigh, marvelling at the softness of her flesh and her warm, smooth skin. She didn’t react at all, still sucking her thumb as she lay in feigned sleep, seemingly unaware as he explored her body, allowing his fingers to move to the seat of her panties. His cock was now painfully hard as he stroked her bottom through the silk, tracing out the shape of her cheeks and the valley between them before moving to the soft double-bulge where the lips of her cunt pushed out between the tops of her thighs.

A faint shiver ran through Elaine’s body as he brushed a knuckle along the groove of lacy material where her panties clung tight to her labia. Then he withdrew it, as if worried that he might wake her up, only to reach out and ease the rear pouch of her knickers slowly down over her bottom, adjusting them to the level of her thighs. Her cunt was now bare, and he realised that she was not merely tidy, as he had supposed, but fully shaved, her lips and mound smooth and freshly powdered. He touched her again, allowing his fingers to loiter on the baby-pink skin, and smiled as he saw that a bead of moisture had begun to escape from her vagina.

‘So beautiful,’ he whispered, ‘and mine alone, so far.’

Elaine gave a low murmur, which might have been a word – maybe agreement, maybe shame, but impossible to interpret as denial. Adam allowed himself another smile as he reached out to caress her bottom with his free hand then eased a finger into the moist cavity of her vagina. She moaned as she was penetrated, but stayed as she was, encouraging Adam to finger her more vigorously before easing free and placing both hands on her bottom to spread her arse and show off her anus.

She’d even shaved between her cheeks, her skin perfectly smooth and an even, delicate pink, save for a neat, dun-coloured marking in the shape of a butterfly around the tiny, puckered hole.

Unable to resist, Adam leaned forward, first to kiss each beautiful cheek and then between them, his lips pressed to Elaine’s anal star. Her response was a whimper, and an ever-so-slight tilt of her behind, encouraging him to extend his tongue and lick, exploring the bumps and crevices of her anus before poking in up the now moist central hole. Again she whimpered, with more feeling than before, and her thighs came wide, her hand slipping down to massage her cunt as he licked the crease of her bottom.

‘Not yet,’ he sighed, pulling back and applying a playful slap to her rump.

Elaine’s answering gasp betrayed even more emotion than he’d have expected, while the motion of her fingers between her cunt lips immediately grew more urgent.

‘Patience,’ he urged, giving her another slap. ‘And besides, what sort of girl wakes to the feel of a man’s tongue in her bottom-hole and starts to masturbate? A bad girl, Elaine – a girl who deserves to have her bottom smacked, which is exactly what’s going to happen to you.’

She didn’t answer, now sobbing as she masturbated.

‘Uh-uh,’ Adam chided. ‘Oh no you don’t, young lady.’

He took hold of her legs, rolling her body towards him as he pulled them high, leaving her bare bottom thrust out and her cunt peeping from beneath her half-lowered panties as she continued to rub at herself. Adam smacked her hand and she finally pulled it away, to put her cunt on full show, wet and open, and her bottom-hole in a similar state. He could feel her shaking as he put his hand to her arse, and her sobbing grew broken and urgent and she turned away, as if unable to meet his eyes.

‘There we are,’ he told her as he began to plant gentle smacks on the cheeks of her bottom. ‘That’s how you wanted it, isn’t it? That’s how you’ve wanted it all along, really, with your legs rolled up so it all shows – as if you’re going to have your nappy changed. Which is just as well, as once you’ve had your spanking, you’re going in one, Elaine. That’s right, I’m going to spank you and put you in a nappy. How will that feel?’

A sudden spasm ran through her body at his words, as if she’d had a little orgasm without even touching herself. He smiled and continued to spank her, now fully in control and enjoying her helpless submission, which went far beyond anything he’d imagined. A quick tug on his zip and his cock was free, standing rigid from his fly and ready for the wet little hole between her thighs, but not until he’d given her the full treatment. Releasing her legs, he took a firm grip on her panties.

‘Right, let’s have these off,’ he said, ‘and we’ll get you spanked properly, shall we?’

Elaine gave a weak nod in response as her panties were pulled up the length of her legs and off, to leave her naked from the waist down. Adam pushed the bedclothes away and knelt up beside her, once more taking a firm grip around her knees and raising them up to leave her fully exposed and ready for punishment. Her cheeks had already gained a faint pink flush, just visible in the dim light, and he began to smack each in turn, hard enough to make her gasp and wriggle in his grip.

‘Is this your first spanking?’ he demanded as he worked on her. ‘I don’t suppose so, because somebody must have taken you across their knee before now, or had you rolled up like this, with your bottom spread open. But if it is your first spanking, Elaine, then it’s well overdue.’

His words were punctuated by the meaty smacks of his hand as it met the flesh of her cheeks and by her sharp, pained cries, but she also spoke, a single, indistinct word he chose to take as a question.