The Exchange (25 page)

But Kir held my arm to halt me, and in his eyes I saw an invitation.

‘You, Master?’ I croaked, my breath catching in my throat.

He nodded, eyes glinting wickedly. ‘I’ve been a very naughty boy,’ he said in his thick Russian accent.

‘Call me mistress,’ I said. Inside I felt uncertain, a phoney, but I tried to make my voice masterful and controlled. I had, I knew, to sustain the illusion. I had to take all of this very seriously or it would all break down.

‘Take your clothes off,’ I commanded, running the whip from his knee up the side of his leg to his hip. While he stripped, I unlocked the manacles restraining the girl’s wrists and ankles and told her to stand up.

‘You can help me,’ I told her. In truth, I was hoping to follow her lead. I didn’t have a clue what I was going to do or what anyone expected of me. Was I purely to whip Kir too, or did he need something else?

We watched Kir crawl onto the bed. His cock was hard as could be. I marvelled at its girth – he really was very well hung. I wondered if we’d end up actually fucking at some point and, if so, if it would hurt. And if it did, would I like it anyway?

I regarded the whip in my hand. What was it, I wondered, about pleasure and pain? What made them part and parcel of the same experience for so many people? Would I, too, find it a turn-on to be whipped?

There was only one way to find out. But first I had to attend to Kir. I looked at him on the bed. His head was turned in our direction and his eyes were entreating us to begin.

‘Let him wait,’ I said to the girl. Then I looked around. ‘Is there any music in here?’ I said.

The girl gestured towards an iPod in a docking station in the corner of the room. The castle did have electricity, I thought – the lanterns were all for effect.

‘Play something,’ I ordered her.

Meekly she scurried over and touched a few buttons. Something ethereal but faintly sinister began to play. It could have been the soundtrack to a David Lynch movie.

Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I willed myself to be Lisette again, in my imagination, and swaying gently to the music I began to take my clothes off. My cunt was burning and my mouth was almost painfully dry but in my mind I just kept telling myself ‘I’m Lisette, I’m Lisette, I’m Lisette,’ and somehow I lasted the course.

When I opened my eyes again, I was naked, but I didn’t give in to my instinct to see if Kir and the girl were looking at me, and if so, to try to read their thoughts. I just tn do��Let me introduce you to my very special friend Rachel, from London. She’s a photographer.’

Solange pulled a face of mock horror. ‘A photographer? Well, no cameras here – absolutely
verboten
. But then of course you know that.’

I nodded as she shook my hand. Her incredibly long nails were coated with slick bright red polish. Her mouth too was red and glossy against the whitest of skins. Her eyes were so dark that the pupils were barely distinguishable from the iris.

‘Enjoy your initiation, Rachel,’ said Solange. ‘I’m envious. There’s nothing like the first time.’ Her eyes flicked towards Kir and from the briefest of glances I inferred that Kir had been initiated by Solange herself. I felt another kick of fear mixed with desire in my belly and my groin.

Kir took my hand again and led me along a hallway with many doors leading off it. For the first time I noticed that the château was lit not by electric bulbs but by lanterns hung along the walls.

We stopped in front of one of the doors. Kir knocked on the door and I held my breath. Could I really go through with this? I wondered. I knew that what lay beyond had the capacity to change my life forever.

Aware that my whole body had tensed, Kir squeezed my hand. ‘Relax,’ he whispered, leaning in to my neck and kissing me. For the first time since teenager-dom I felt the sudden sting of a love-bite.

‘Kir!’ I squeaked, but he put his hand over my mouth and gave me a mock-disapproving look.

‘Sorry,’ I whispered, and then I giggled. I was in danger of becoming hysterical, I thought.

The door creaked slowly open, and my mouth dropped open.
The
most gorgeous Chinese girl stood beyond, all dressed up as a slave, in a shiny black catsuit with a corset over the top and a collar with a leash dangling from it.

‘Master,’ she said when she saw Kir. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’ She stepped back, and Kir stepped inside. I followed.

A vast four-poster bed dominated the room. Kir walked up to the girl and grabbed hold of the leash, then drew her towards the bed, not roughly but firmly, pushing her down onto it. From a table beside the bed he took two sets of cuffs, one longer than the other, and used them to restrain her at the ankles and wrists.

He turned to me, a curious smile on his face, revealing a glittering corner of one of his gold teeth. ‘Did you know Kir means master?’ he said, and I shook my head. ‘From now on,’ he said, ‘you are to call me Master. Understood?’

‘Yes,’ I said, hating the sudden stammer in my voice.

‘Yes,
Master
,’ he said.

‘Yes, Master.’

He turned back to the girl slave on the bed. ‘Unzip her,’ he said, and I bent forwards and unzipped the back of her catsuit, then pulled it away from her so that her back and buttocks were exposed.

‘Now Chan here,’ said Kir, ‘has been very naughty and has to be punished.’ He handed me a horsehair whip. ‘Do your worst.’

For a moment, I just stared. I had never used such a thing before. I’d never even thought about the possibility of it. This was about as far from my safe world as it was possible to go, and I felt totally at sea. The rational part of me wanted to thrust the whip back in his face and run for it, but then could I get out of here safely? I’d have to make it back past Solange and then out through the hallway full of people. And then I’d be out in the night, in the darkness of the parkland surrounding the château. I remembered the tall walls that bordered the wrought-iron gates we had driven through. How long would it take to run down that long driveway, and then would I even be able to scale those high walls? And what if there were dogs?

All this flashed through my mind as I stood there holding the whip, my palm slick with sweat. And then suddenly I thought
Fuck it
. Camille’s advice about acting ‘as if’ came to me. At Rochelle’s flat I’d thought I’d pretend to act like her. But now it was Lisette who sprang to mind. Lisette, I was sure, had been here before and was probably right at this moment in a room just like this, doing something very similar. Lisette also thought nothing of taking her clothes off in front of a bunch of strangers night after night

It was as if a padlock had snapped open. Suddenly imbued with power and confidence, I climbed onto the end of the bed and started thwacking the girl. It may not have been that hard, but it felt dramatic to me, inexperienced as I was. The girl’s moans thrilled me and spurred me to hit her harder. I looked at Kir and the gleam in his eyes informed me that I could. I smashed the whip down against the girl’s reddening flesh. Suddenly I felt limitless and free. I wanted more.

But Kir held my arm to halt me, and in his eyes I saw an invitation.

‘You, Master?’ I croaked, my breath catching in my throat.

He nodded, eyes glinting wickedly. ‘I’ve been a very naughty boy,’ he said in his thick Russian accent.

‘Call me mistress,’ I said. Inside I felt uncertain, a phoney, but I tried to make my voice masterful and controlled. I had, I knew, to sustain the illusion. I had to take all of this very seriously or it would all break down.

‘Take your clothes off,’ I commanded, running the whip from his knee up the side of his leg to his hip. While he stripped, I unlocked the manacles restraining the girl’s wrists and ankles and told her to stand up.

‘You can help me,’ I told her. In truth, I was hoping to follow her lead. I didn’t have a clue what I was going to do or what anyone expected of me. Was I purely to whip Kir too, or did he need something else?

We watched Kir crawl onto the bed. His cock was hard as could be. I marvelled at its girth – he really was very well hung. I wondered if we’d end up actually fucking at some point and, if so, if it would hurt. And if it did, would I like it anyway?

I regarded the whip in my hand. What was it, I wondered, about pleasure and pain? What made them part and parcel of the same experience for so many people? Would I, too, find it a turn-on to be whipped?

There was only one way to find out. But first I had to attend to Kir. I looked at him on the bed. His head was turned in our direction and his eyes were entreating us to begin.

‘Let him wait,’ I said to the girl. Then I looked around. ‘Is there any music in here?’ I said.

The girl gestured towards an iPod in a docking station in the corner of the room. The castle did have electricity, I thought – the lanterns were all for effect.

‘Play something,’ I ordered her.

Meekly she scurried over and touched a few buttons. Something ethereal but faintly sinister began to play. It could have been the soundtrack to a David Lynch movie.

Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I willed myself to be Lisette again, in my imagination, and swaying gently to the music I began to take my clothes off. My cunt was burning and my mouth was almost painfully dry but in my mind I just kept telling myself ‘I’m Lisette, I’m Lisette, I’m Lisette,’ and somehow I lasted the course.

When I opened my eyes again, I was naked, but I didn’t give in to my instinct to see if Kir and the girl were looking at me, and if so, to try to read their thoughts. I just tn do��Let me introduce you to my very special friend Rachel, from London. She’s a photographer.’

Solange pulled a face of mock horror. ‘A photographer? Well, no cameras here – absolutely
verboten
. But then of course you know that.’

I nodded as she shook my hand. Her incredibly long nails were coated with slick bright red polish. Her mouth too was red and glossy against the whitest of skins. Her eyes were so dark that the pupils were barely distinguishable from the iris.

‘Enjoy your initiation, Rachel,’ said Solange. ‘I’m envious. There’s nothing like the first time.’ Her eyes flicked towards Kir and from the briefest of glances I inferred that Kir had been initiated by Solange herself. I felt another kick of fear mixed with desire in my belly and my groin.

Kir took my hand again and led me along a hallway with many doors leading off it. For the first time I noticed that the château was lit not by electric bulbs but by lanterns hung