The Gift of Shame (14 page)

‘Thank you, Mistress,’ gasped the man.

‘Keep the count!’ Victoria reminded him.

‘Thirteen, Mistress!’

The words meant nothing to Helen’s brain, which was seized by a paralysing madness. Almost completely detached from what the man might be feeling she was aware only of the tremendous sense of power that was charging her entire body. Now she struck out, barely waiting for the man’s count, until
his
voice rose to almost total incoherence as the blows followed close on one another.

She had become totally unaware of the man or the pain. She knew only of herself and the alien excitement which had laid siege to her senses. Only when Victoria stepped forward to grab her already raised hand did she realise that she had been, literally, flogging the man until his ‘count’ had become a continuous wail.

‘That’s enough,’ Victoria said sharply. ‘Go to your Master.’

Helen felt her brain empty. ‘Master?’ she asked.

Victoria turned her to the door and all but pushed her through it. ‘He’s waiting for you in the sitting-room. Go to him. Leave this to us.’

Resentful at being so peremptorily dismissed she went, feeling she had failed the ‘test’, to find Jeffrey rising from one of the deep couches, his eyes wide at the sight of her in the leather costume. ‘You look magnificent,’ he told her. ‘Tomorrow we must have something like this made for you.’

This sudden transition from the unbelievable events taking place just a wall away, to Jeffrey’s presence, confused her.

‘Here,’ Jeffrey was saying, as he held out a drink to her. ‘You look as if you need this.’

Taking the glass, Helen was only vaguely aware of the other girl, to whom she had not been introduced, sitting legs curled under herself on the couch opposite Jeffrey. Noting that the girl, who when last seen had been wearing a dress, now wore only a dressing gown gaping open to show most of her naked breasts, and wondering if, in her absence, anything had happened between the girl and Jeffrey, she heard herself asking: ‘Did you fuck her?’

Jeffrey smiled. ‘No. I was saving that for you.’

‘Here,’ her voice continued.

‘No. I thought we’d go back to the hotel.’

‘That wasn’t a question,’ she said with an assertiveness that surprised even her.

His face quivering with surprise, Jeffrey looked at her. ‘Here?’ he asked.

She nodded and turned to the girl. ‘Is there another room – like that one?’ Helen indicated the room she had just left.

The girl nodded cautiously. ‘Show it to me,’ she murmured.

Rising, the girl glanced at Jeffrey for confirmation that she should do as Helen asked, before leading the still-masked Helen into the hallway. She was led past the room from which she had so recently been sent and into another, slightly smaller but equally well equipped. As she looked around she was aware of the girl watching her.

‘Help me out of this,’ she said, indicating the basque.

The girl came forward immediately but made a mild protest. ‘But you look so good in it. Didn’t your man just admire it …?’

Impatiently she started tugging at the front hooks herself but knew the strings at the back would need help. ‘Do it!’ she commanded, surprised at how like Victoria her tone sounded.

The girl’s fingers moved nimbly over the restraining strings and soon Helen felt her abdominal muscles relax with relief as cooler air touched her heated skin.

Freed of the basque, but still masked, she went forward for a closer look at the chains that dangled from a ceiling frame. Extending one wrist she closed the leather band round it and motioned for the girl to come forward and secure it.

In seconds the girl’s obviously well-practised fingers had closed the clasps, and she looked to Helen to have it confirmed that the other was to be treated in like manner.

When she was fully secured, feeling deliciously open and vulnerable, she sent the girl to summon Jeffrey. Balanced on
the
high-pointed heels of the boots, only the mask gave her any confidence that she would not disappoint him when he came to her.

On coming into the room Jeffrey was stunned by what he saw. Every sinew in her upper arms and shoulders seemed defined by the restraint in which she had been secured. Her stomach had all but disappeared into her rib cage while her breasts appeared firmer with their nipples, aroused and engorged, pointing almost ceilingwards.

‘The whips,’ she gasped to him. ‘Use them …’

When Jeffrey nodded as if to dismiss the girl from the room, Helen called out again. ‘No! I want her to stay!’

Jeffrey, smiling quietly, came to stand directly in front of her. ‘Since the girl is to stay I suggest we make use of her. Shall I have her whip you?’

Feeling something akin to anger at his delay she spat her words out through gritted teeth. ‘I don’t care who whips me just as long as it hurts!’

‘What a greedy little slave you’ve become,’ said Jeffrey quietly, reaching out to tease both nipples with his fingers. ‘Every time you tell me you love me she will strike five times,’ he added.

Taking a deep breath Helen braced herself before uttering the fatal words.

When, some thirty minutes later, she saw, through hooded eyes, Victoria come into the room, she felt immense pride as that jaded lady winced at the sight of Helen’s lividly marked buttocks and thighs.

The man that was with Victoria looked unfamiliar to her until she realised that his strangeness was due to the fact that he was now dressed. The man’s eyes bulged at seeing her whip marks but he came forward, and reached both hands to encompass her head before kissing her lightly on both cheeks. ‘Thank you, Mistress Helen,’ he murmured.

Victoria looked significantly to Jeffrey before turning to usher the man out of the room, leaving her once more alone with Jeffrey and the girl. Defiantly, she held Jeffrey’s eyes as he looked back at her. ‘Now you can have me,’ she told him.

9

HELEN WOKE THICK
headed and feeling as if she might be coming down with something, only to find an enthused Jeffrey at her side.

‘Helen!’ he was excitedly calling before she was even fully awake. ‘Marvellous news. They’ve found my car!’

Her head still heavy with sleep, Helen tried to concentrate. ‘Your car?’

‘Yes. At, of all places, the German/Polish border! Annabel called me from London. Apparently the border police got suspicious because the thieves – who can’t be very bright – had put false French plates on a right hand drive car! They checked it out and found it was listed as stolen.’

‘What on earth were they doing trying to take it into Poland?’

‘Apparently there’s a big market in Russia for that kind of car at the right price. Isn’t it marvellous? I thought I’d go and collect it and drive it back. You could come with me if you want but I don’t think the German/Polish border is the most appealing of places. What do you say?’

Helen felt confusion closing in rapidly. ‘I’m sorry, Jeffrey, I’m not awake yet. As a matter of fact I feel exhausted still.’ She paused, trying to absorb this sudden change of plan – an effort made worse by Jeffrey’s obvious excitement at the prospect of getting his car returned. ‘What do you suggest I do?’

‘I’ll only be gone a couple of days at the most. Why not just stay here?’

‘Alone?’ she asked.

‘No. Annabel’s coming over. I need the registration documents, the insurance – all that kerfuffle – to prove the damn thing’s mine. She can stay with you – you two could go round the shops together.’

‘I’d rather wait until you get back.’

Jeffrey nodded and then looked as if there was something else on his mind. Watching him she was filled with a sudden dread.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked tentatively.

The question seemed to surprise him and he looked, for a moment, as if he’d been caught out thinking something shameful.

‘No!’ His denial was too effusive to be convincing. ‘It’s just that – well, there is something I wanted to discuss later but my having to go off like this …’ He let his voice trail off. ‘No,’ he said, as if his mind was made up. ‘This isn’t the time to get into that.’

‘What?’ she asked sharply.

His eyes, avoiding hers, focused randomly about the room for a moment before, taking a deep breath, he turned back to look directly at her. ‘I’m a fraud,’ he finally sighed.

Stricken with the thought that she was about to hear something she’d rather not, she spoke with quiet insistence. ‘What sort of fraud?’

‘You came to me with your guilt-stricken vulnerability, looking for strength and the means to forget – obliterate, if you like – the agony you’ve been put through. The trouble is I’m not as strong as you might imagine.’ He hesitated as she watched him. Filled with a sudden feeling that everything was about to go wrong she, nevertheless, felt obliged to give him the space he so obviously needed. ‘This may sound crazy but, you see, I’ve never felt entitled to anything I have,’ Jeffrey said flatly. ‘Not even you.’

His last words startled her. They had come so suddenly and sounded like the crack of doom to her apprehensive ears. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked. ‘You have me. I’m here. My God, Jeffrey, we might not have known each other long but the things we’ve shared … don’t start doubting us.’

‘I don’t doubt
you
!’ he protested. ‘You’re a fantastic girl. You’re beautiful, sexual, intelligent and … maybe that’s the trouble. I’ve begun to think I’m exploiting your vulnerability.’

‘That’s total nonsense! I haven’t done anything I didn’t want to do – and there’s things we’ve done I want to do again. Please don’t feel guilty about me. I meant it when I told you you’d liberated me. Jeffrey, I need your strength – don’t start doubting yourself now.’

His smile was wry as he looked away, staring blankly and without interest, at anywhere but her. ‘My strength?’ he asked with heavy sarcasm. ‘Don’t you realise that my only strength is in your submission?’

It took her a moment to absorb this surprising concept but when she did she found herself encouraged. ‘Fine!’ she said. ‘That’s fine with me. I’m totally yours.’

His smile remained glacial but at least, she thought, he’s looking at me again. ‘My father once told me that the only time you ever know what you possess is when you give it away, sell it, dispose of it. Only in losing it could you be sure you ever had it.’

The ice rushed back into her soul, making her next words brittle. ‘Are you saying you want to be rid of me?’

‘That’s not what I’m saying at all. My greatest fear is that, having found you, I might lose you. I couldn’t bear that.’

‘So that makes us even,’ she told him. ‘I don’t want to lose you either.’

As he looked steadily at her she read agony in his eyes. The
source
of this worried her. He had been in a confessional mood but had said nothing to explain this sudden despair. At the same time there was, gnawing at the back of her mind, the certainty that he hadn’t told her everything. She couldn’t imagine ever again being as intimate and open with anyone other than Jeffrey, and she found the thought of being without him terrifying. More terrifying than knowing the worst. ‘What is it you’re
not
telling me?’ she asked.

‘You might hate me,’ he finally said.

‘I doubt it,’ she answered, her voice edgy with preparedness.

‘I started some enquiries …’ he said hesitantly.

‘Enquiries? About me?’

He shook his head as if dismissing that suggestion as ridiculous. ‘About Kenneth.’ Seeing her go into a shocked and puzzled silence, he rushed on. ‘Millie told me about the accident and everything before I even met you. It didn’t sound right to me then but it was none of my business so …’ he shrugged before going on. ‘But after we’d met – when I realised how affected you were by what you thought had happened – I started some enquiries.’

Helen stayed silent. Her first reaction was much as if she had found him rifling her diary, reading her letters or checking her bank account, but then she remembered that she had felt precisely the same during the police enquiries and the inquest and when the facts – as the world saw them – had become public property. There was no reason Jeffrey shouldn’t know as much as total strangers but his phrase ‘by what you
thought
had happened’ rang discordantly in her ears. ‘And what did you find out?’ she asked.

‘Nothing. Not yet, anyway. I mean it’s only been a few days – the real investigation hasn’t even begun yet.’

‘And what do you expect to discover?’

Jeffrey looked painfully awkward. ‘I honestly don’t know. I’ve done some scuba diving myself but I’m not expert, so I checked with a friend of mine who is. He confirmed my first reaction.’

‘Which is?’

‘That it is extremely unlikely that in a properly supervised dive, a member of the team could go missing for over an hour and not be missed. You told me Kenneth was an experienced diver and yet he got entangled with some wreck’s hawsers and just stayed there waiting to die? That doesn’t ring true. There had to be something they didn’t tell you.’

‘What?’

‘That’s what I hope we’ll find out.’ He looked at her with eyes pleading their sincerity. ‘Whatever it is, or might be, it can’t be worse than your imaginings – or the guilt you’re carrying around.’

Feeling increasingly that the situation was becoming weird she attempted to inject a note of realism. ‘Jeffrey, there was an investigation, then an inquest. If there was anything to find out it would have come out.’

‘Inquest verdicts are not always what they seem,’ he murmured.

‘Are you saying that the verdict on Kenneth was fixed?’

‘Of course not. All I’m saying is that, sometimes, a verdict isn’t what’s true but what’s best.’

‘For who, or what?’

‘Who knows? It could be politics – it could be a negative effect on tourism … It could be – right now – almost anything. All I’m saying is that what you were told doesn’t sound right – an experienced diver could have done a dozen things to alert people to what was going on. The last thing he’d do is just hang there and wait for his air to run out.’

Helen felt totally numb. She almost wished she could feel
anger
but recognised that Jeffrey thought he had acted in her best interests. What concerned her was that he had thrust himself so deeply into her business without consulting her. Suddenly the wonderful lover sitting opposite her was not the man she had imagined him to be. ‘Jeffrey,’ she murmured out of her confusion, ‘I think I’d like some time alone to think.’