Bound by Consent (17 page)

Authors: Dalia Craig

Tags: #Lydian Press, #butch, #lesbian erotica, #submission, #Revenge, #love story, #Romance, #lgbt, #erotic, #dalia craig, #suspense/thriller BDSM, #femme, #e-book, #Lesbian, #femerotica

BOOK: Bound by Consent

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“Leave your tits alone!” The injunction scythed through the air like the crack of a whip.

How did Cassie read my mind?

I resisted the urge to disobey.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Now lose the skirt.”

This departure from the norm caught me unawares. I forced a sharp hiss of breath through clenched teeth and focused on her instructions. Once I ran the zipper down, the skirt needed no help to slither down my thighs to the floor.

“Okay, the skirt is off.” I waited anxiously for her next instruction.

“Have you got the toy bag handy?”

Yes, Mistress.” She had mailed me a package of toys in advance and I had the bag hanging on the door handle.

“Good... Now step out of the clothes and stand up against the wall with your feet a little apart. Tell me what you see in the mirror.”

I rushed to do as requested, backing up against the wall close by the bedroom door, and staring at my reflection in the mirror. I shook my head.

“I look like a tart, a slut – a whore even – standing here with my hair all messed up, and my tits hanging out, not to mention the black underwear and stockings.”

Cassie was fond of making me take up this pose, she liked to tie my hands above my head and tease me with a flogger, holding me on the brink of a climax for ages before letting me come. That was out of the question here, but no doubt she had something else in mind.

“That’s right, you’re my personal little whore.” Cassie’s voice issued softly from the phone. “Get the nipple clamps from the bag and put them on. Tell me when you’re done.”

The initial stab of pain from the clamps forced me to regulate my breathing. Then the tug of the chain sent waves of gut-clenching fire to my cunt. Oh, mercy me, I was already dripping wet, it would take no more than the smallest stimulation to tip me over the edge into free fall.

“They’re on now.”

“Excellent. You’re doing really well, honey. Now find the pink dildo and switch it to slow.”

I heard Cassie take a deep breath.

“Are you ready?

“I’m ready, Mistress,” I confirmed, my voice a trifle unsteady.

“I want you to tease yourself with the dildo, don’t be shy, wipe it over your crotch but keep away from your clit. No cheating.”

The first swipe replenished the fire in my loins, the second fueled a sharp intake of breath, and the third nearly destroyed me. I widened my stance, dragging the fingernails of my free hand over the wall.

“Please let me come.” My plea turned into a moan.

“That sounds perfect. You are doing really well,” Cassie praised me, her voice hushed. “Just a little while longer, honey. You know you want to hold on to please me.”

Yes, I did. Pleasing Cassie gave me an incredible high. I couldn’t describe it and I was too far gone to try. I just listened to her voice and gritted my teeth waiting for her to release me from the torment and transport me to the place she had created especially for me.

“Please, Mistress...”

“One more time...then I want you to drive that dildo deep inside you. Imagine it’s my hand, I have you trapped against the wall. Can you feel me fucking you hard with my fingers?”

“I can, Mistress. Please...” I begged her. My legs were trembling so much from holding back I feared they would give out on me before Cassie said the magic words.

“Okay, honey. Let it all out. Just for me. I want to hear you come.”

I have no idea what I said or did once the orgasm gripped me and swept everything from my mind. My next conscious moment found me on the floor in a heap sobbing uncontrollably. A nice sobbing I must add. Totally drained but at peace with myself.

“That was beautiful, honey. So beautiful.” Cassie’s voice was soft and calming. “You are very special to me.”

“And you to me.” I hiccupped. “Will you let me give you something in return?”

“I’m good, honey,” Cassie’s ‘Mistress’ voice returned warning me not to argue. “This was never about me. I must go now. We’ll do this again next month. Bye, honey.”

“Don’t go,” I begged her but the line was dead. Devastation hit me in the guts. I swore. I cried. I screamed. I threw things. And above all I ranted at the authorities for putting us through this torment for no good reason. Couldn’t they see that Esmée was manipulating them, just as she’d manipulated me for all those years?

Another month passed and another. We never repeated the phone sex, it was too traumatic. A miserable Christmas came and went. Then suddenly on the second Monday in January, just as I’d began cancelling my commitments citing ill health, it was all over. Cassie was freed from her bail, at the same time Esmée and Marisa were arrested, charged, and remanded in custody.

I caught the first available train to London and found Cassie waiting for me on the platform at Paddington station. I flew into her arms totally oblivious to all the hustle and bustle of the station platform.

Sadly, I have no words to describe the intense emotions of this moment. I just knew I never wanted to be parted from her ever again.

****

We arrived in Scotland late on Thursday afternoon.

My feelings were mixed when I drove Jazzy into the same yard from where I’d fled at the crack of dawn some twelve months previously. Now, with everything that had happened in between that previous visit seemed like a different era.

Cassie was out of the vehicle almost before I braked to a halt, rushing to pet the same bevy of barking, tail wagging, dogs that had greeted us before.

Later, we dined in style, off fine china, sitting side by side at one end of a massive oak table that could have seated more than thirty guests. Effie, Hamish’s wife, bustled around setting the food out on a sideboard so we could help ourselves having insisted we use the grand dining hall rather than the kitchen. “It’s so good to have you home again, Miss Cassie,” she said. Effie had done us proud, producing an excellent feast: clear soup, followed by leg of lamb with a redcurrant glaze, then individual open apple tarts served with thick cream and a raspberry coulis. All local ingredients she assured us, smiling broadly.

After dinner Cassie gave me a guided tour of the castle, something that she’d omitted on my last visit. Let’s face it we had other things on our minds that night. She held my hand and gave me a potted history of each area as we sauntered from room to room often stopping to kiss and cuddle as the mood took us. We had a lot of time to make up.

A lot of the original fortification had been destroyed during the seventeen forty five rebellion but subsequent generations had repaired the remains and added their own stamp to the fabric. She left the dungeon to last. The tower, in which it was situated, was the oldest part of the castle built in the early sixteen hundreds to hold a commanding position at the entrance to a narrow sea loch.

In the light from electric candles that flickered almost as eerily as the real thing, my gaze took in the array of restraints which hung from the walls, each separated by filmy, red-silk drapes. The spanking stool and swing still stood ready for use in the middle of the room. My gaze traveled on to the St. Andrews Cross set into an alcove to one side, and, the pièce de résistance, a black wrought-iron, four-poster bed dressed in red and black silk.

Nothing much had changed.

And finally I turned to the table seeking the red spaghetti string flogger that Cassie had used on me to great effect. My skin prickled, growing goose bumps with the memory. I wanted to recreate that special moment without delay.

We’d celebrated our reunion in London, a couple of days after Cassie was officially released from her bail conditions. Then again in a motel room on the drive up to Scotland. Even symbolically in a pull off at the very top of the Drumochter Pass, by the sign that read
‘Fàilte don Ghàidhealtachd’
Welcome to the Highlands. However, here in this place where it all began, I knew our coming together would be something special.

Finally, Cassie drew me close. “It’s late, honey, we have an eternity to play here together. I’d rather like to unwind from the long drive and get some sleep before we embark on anything too ambitious. I promise you tomorrow and every day after that I will honor your devotion, your love, and your commitment to me.”

About the Author

Dalia Craig loves to both read and write a variety of contemporary erotic fiction. While her particular leaning is towards lesbian erotica, her writing encompasses all heat levels and diverse genre. She has a number of eBooks to her credit and is also a contributor to several print anthologies including: Where the Girls Are: Urban Lesbian Erotica, Best Lesbian Romance 2010 both from Cleis Press. Plus the Goldie 2013 nominated anthology, Sapphic Planet.