Untaming Lily Wilde (27 page)

So, Grayson took me on his dungeon tour, and after a brief look at the stuff I already had a grip on (so to speak), he did a bit of magic with the leather panelling, and HEY PRESTO! A whole section of fake wall swings open to reveal the inner depths of hell. “This place is largely for show,” he said. He told me it was hidden for privacy, but very safe, with panic buttons on all the equipment, and, of course, more lovely paperwork to fill in before someone can use it. Plus, he said, a third party always had to be present - usually him - just to be sure the role-playing didn’t get dangerously out of hand.

Seriously, the vibe in that secret room was NOTHING like the phony-danger feel of the main dungeon. That little room was something else. Cages jutted out harshly from the cold stone walls. Suspension devices hung from the ceiling, as before, and some of the furniture was similar in construction, though the intended uses were clearly more extreme; designed (I guess) for clients who’s fantasies involve significant pain. Ick!! One bench had a load of wires and gizmos attached. This was apparently electro-fetish gear (of course - silly me - should have guessed!)… I asked Grayson if people really did that stuff? “Only people who’ve been health-checked to the moon and back,” he assured me. Gross. No grosser than the gimp-suite-wearing mannequins, though, or the nasty gas mask style thingamajigs that hung from hooks on the walls. “Not to my taste either, but it pays to have an open mind in this business,” Grayson told me. ‘Pays’ being the operative word.

Then, just to make my experience complete, Grayson led me to over to the flogging bench - an item I’d previously missed - but one I knew all too well from Seb’s photos. Those leg, arm and body straps had been all but burnt onto my retinas. Grayson saw my expression change, and asked me what was up? I told him.

“Oh yeah?” he said. “We try to update this stuff pretty regularly, but this baby’s been around a while. You know - I doubt he even gives those photos a second glance these days. Even at the time they were mainly just taken as mementos for the clients.”

“That’s not what you said before,” I told him.

“Maybe not,” he said. “I’ve been known to exaggerate. And for that I’m humbly sorry. You’re just - I dunno - kind of easy to tease, I guess. Anyhow, enough of the crazy-pain-room,” he said, and he wrapped his arm round my shoulders and led me back to the good-ol’ regular dungeon (which is not something I ever thought I’d write!)… Then, he got to the crux of what was going on here. “OK listen,” he said. “So, I was going to ease gently into this conversation, but then Ana gave my game away, so I’m going to just say it outright. Christoph Yale is possibly the richest guy you’ll ever meet. He’s a long-time client. I met him back home in San Jose when he was 19, and even back then he was already a rising star in Silicon Valley.”

“He owns a software company then?” I’d asked.

“Companies plural,” Grayson corrected. “Anyways, he’s in the country for a few weeks, and he wants to meet you.”

This made no sense. “Why?” I asked. Why on earth would some stinking rich IT guy want to meet me?

“Because he loves new blood, for starters. And then when I told him about Seb going all monogamous, he nearly died for curiosity,” Grayson told me. The line ‘curiosity killed the cat’ sprung to mind, but somehow I felt like I’d be the one sprouting whiskers and keeling over if this Christoph guy let his curiosity get the better of him.

I told Grayson I wasn’t sure; that I didn’t want to commit to doing anything with anybody.

“Of course, of course, don’t sweat it,” he said. “You don’t have to fuck the guy just because he’s curious... It’s just - well - if you do choose to play, it could be a lot of fun for all involved.”

“All?”

“The three of us.” Grayson smiled at me, enjoying watching this little bombshell of a suggestion seep in. “Well you’ve tried the whole two girls, one guy thing. How’s about trying two guys?”

Needless to say, I was speechless.

“Look, don’t answer. Just think about it, and see how you feel tomorrow,” he said. “But - well - as I said before - you might want to get a feel for this stuff so you know what you can handle.”

Grayson, being the pushy gent that he is, was determined to get me strapped up to one of those damn contraptions before the day was through. I looked him square in the eye and said tres slowly, “OK. Now, I know this may sound a little outlandish to you, but I actually - don't - like - pain.”

“Right- oh sure - and, well, I know this may sound a little PATRONIZING to YOU, but I don't think you KNOW what you like yet.”

I was getting a wee bit irritated with his cockiness. “Believe me, I think I have a fair idea. I've bashed my head on enough car doors in my time, and oddly it’s never turned me on. Why would a whip crack to the butt make me feel any different?” I said.

“Because it'll send tingly goodness down to your happy place. Though, granted, maybe a whips a bit extreme for a first timer. How about one of these babies?” He lifted down a plain black leather paddle from the wall, and proceeded to thwack his palm with it, staring at me with that arrogant glint in his eye, trying to provoke a reaction.

“Still not seeing the attraction,” I told him.

“Well, no, the attraction would be in the feeling, not in the seeing,” he said.

“And why do I get the feeling you want me to pull my knickers down right now so you can hit me?”

“Because that’s exactly what I want.”

…you can see where this is going right? I wasn’t getting out of there with my buttocks unbeaten, and yes - FINE - I was curious. Meow. Get over it.

“It’s the Viagra right?” I said. “You’re addicted. Why else would you spend every waking minute thinking about sex?”

“Ok, one: you can’t get addicted to it. Two: I rarely use the stuff. And three: You’re the one assuming this is about sex. I just want to prepare a FRIEND - in other words YOU - for what may be in store.”

“Uh-huh. Right then. Fine. One slap - that’s it. Cos, I’m shattered. I’m no good to anyone right now. Unless you like your women unconscious?” I told him.

“As a rule, no. Don’t worry, I won’t take advantage. I swear. No hanky, no panky. But one slap won’t do it. We’ll do ten.”

I insisted on choosing the furniture, to which he replied, “Oh sure! Be my guest!” And in my best efforts not to have all my limbs splayed every which way, I chose the hitching post. As it turns out, the most innocuous looking bits of bondage furniture can be kinky as hell, and size and complexity are really nothing to go by. But hey, what did I know?! I let him chain my wrists to the top of the post and knelt on the leather pads around the base, heartened by the fact my trousers were still where they should be.

“Now, I promised Ana, no blemishes - so bare in mind this’ll sting more bit tomorrow, when you don’t have your panties on -” he began, and the confidence in his voice took me aback.

“But I didn’t agree to -” SLAP. I gasped. He’d driven the blow down hard on my backside, and the shock of it stunned me to instant silence. The slightest little tingle of excitement sparked across my clit.

“Not yet, you haven’t,” he said. “I’m talking hypothetically, sweetheart.”

SLAP

I gasped again - it’s almost impossible not to when your butt’s getting whooped. I spun round to see him standing there, poised to go again, with a look of unabashed mischief written across his face.

SLAP

“You can watch me if you like, honey, but I’ll only smack you harder,” he said, then slapped me again in quick succession, for good measure.

Much as I hate to admit it, something was definitely stirring down below, and his words were like an aphrodisiac. I wanted it harder. I almost wanted him to pull my knickers down and go for broke, but I wasn’t going to say so. I watched, panting as he cocked an eyebrow as if to tell me ‘don’t say I didn’t warn you’…

SLAP

That time I cried out. OK - so if that was what harder felt like, maybe I didn’t want it after all. I hastily turned back around and held my breath, waiting for the next strike. It didn’t come. The next thing I knew, Grayson was up close behind me reaching round to unchain my wrists.

“Was that ten? That wasn’t ten.” I said, embarrassed by how disappointed I probably sounded.

“I changed my mind,” he said. “You’re turning me on. It’s hard to hold back when you’re so receptive. And I promised Ana, no marks.” He kissed my neck gently as he felt for the chains and my breathing grew lewd and loud and embarrassingly wanton. “Of course, if you’d like me to leave you chained up a little longer…”

I didn’t reply, but instinctively my eyes closed and I leaned back into him, exposing my neck to his lips, allowing myself to go with my desires. He trailed the tip of his tongue from my jaw slowly down to the base of my neck. It was unexpected and ridiculously sensuous; like he wanted to devour me. His hands reached down to my waist and unpopped the buttons of my fly, then, pressing his rigid cock against my butt, he slid his hand down the front of my knickers.

His fingers moved gently against my clit at first, then slid inside me. Each thrust of his cock against my butt drove his fingers in deeper. Unable to move my hands, my body had to guide him, and I rocked back against him, loving the feel of him; suddenly wishing he’d go that extra step and whip his pants off.

He started laughing. He had me totally at his mercy, and there he was barely able to contain himself. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just, you’re so funny - you really have no idea what floats y’ boat do you. All that ‘one slap, that’s it- I’m shattered’ bullshit. Got to love that naivete.”

“Cocky - bastard -” I panted.

He laughed some more. “I’m the cocky bastard who’s going to make you come, sweetheart.” And his fingers picked up a pace, fucking me faster, firmer, but just as smooth, his other arm looped around my waist, pulling me back against the tight bulge of his dick.

And he was dead right. I was so on the verge of coming that it was all I could do not to rip the hitching post out of its base to free my hands. I tugged against the chains in utter frustration; wanting him inside me.

His lips grazed my ear. “Oh my God, Christoph is gonna just love you,” he laughed, and pushed in deep, one final time, pulsing his middle finger at 100mph and massaging my soaking wet g-spot. He nipped at my ear while I came, my thighs locking his hand in place as I groaned uncontrollably, releasing him only once the last little tide of orgasm had subsided.

Then, as my body gave way to gravity and collapsed around the base of the hitching post, I found myself laughing too. “Christ. Er… thanks for that,” I said, cheeks on fire, feeling both totally ridiculous and elated simultaneously.

“Any time, princess,” he said with his most devilish grin. I asked if he - erm - wanted any help with his - erm - package (well it seemed like the polite thing to do!), and he told me I could owe him one. Just as well. I was too burnt out to do anything else right then.

So there we have it; at least, those were the highlights. The rest of my evening largely consisted of a shamefaced ride back to St Albans Station, alongside Mr Lines, who (thankfully) always acts oblivious to Hatherly’s goings on, followed by an uneventful train/tube journey, followed by a trip to Tesco for milk, pizza and toothpaste; thank God for the mundane things in life. After today’s craziness, ‘mundane’ equals ‘sane’ as far as I’m concerned.

L x

FROM: Lily Wilde / TO: [email protected] / Feb 19 / 01:04

Can’t sleep. What is it - 8ish in NYC? So right now you’ll be soaking up the love at your exhibition opening I imagine - hope all’s going well. I did some stuff with Grayson today. Not much I guess, but I can’t not tell you - so there it is. I can’t entirely get my head around this being OK with you, but I’m trying. Also, I wanted to ask you something before tomorrow night: What are your thoughts on Christoph Yale? He wants to meet me. Should I be scared?? Chat soon I hope.

L xx

FROM: Seb Harper / TO: [email protected] / Feb 19 / 01:12

Yeah, it’s all happening as I write. Lots of drunk, rich buyers. Anyhow, Christoph Yale… I’m not surprised he wants to meet you. Quick low-down on Christoph (pseudonym BTW): billionaire, v experienced and skilled Dom, cut-throat and totally uncompromising businessman. He’s a man with extreme tastes, and he likes his sexual partners wide-eyed and naive. Not meaning to offend. Ana’s ‘loyals’ usually meet his needs but we’ve had some big issues here. I don’t like the guy. Blunt but true. Tread carefully. I’m not going to tell you what to do, and if you hit it off, you could probably have some fun together, but ONLY with Grayson or Ana right there with you the whole time. Otherwise, please just don’t go there. And you don’t need to tell me about any stuff with Grayson- the next 5 and a half months are yours to do whatever with whoever. Phone you tomorrow.

Seb x

19

Lily had spent her Saturday packing then repacking her overnight bag, ready for the masquerade. She'd almost cancelled on more than one occasion. If she'd thought she could've convincingly pulled off an
I'm-doh-dorry-bud-eye-dot-derry-dell
phone call to Hatherly she'd have done it, make no mistake. But she was a shocking liar, and would never hear the end of it from Ana or Grayson. Now, just as she was pulling on her boots, ready (as she’d ever be) to meet her fate in this prematurely dark, fog-smothered evening, her phone rang. Seb.