A Hard Bargain (6 page)

Satisfied at last, I push the bottle away, still too feeble, too fragile to move. But as the vicious pain subsides, slowly receding, and I recover the power of coherent thought, I realize he told me the truth. I may have been hurt, temporarily, but I’m basically undamaged. I have survived it, it’s gone—my punishment is behind me now. I will walk out of here, just as Nicholas Hardisty promised me.

“Are you able to stand up?” His voice is gentle now, his hand still in my hair, raking it softly back from my face.

My tears are still streaming, my silent sobs still shake my body, I’m still trembling, but I’m quieting. Starting to relax, to recover. But I’m nowhere near ready to stand under my own steam yet, so I shake my head and cling on to the top of the bench.

“Right then.” And with no further ado, Mr Hardisty scoops me up, effortlessly, and carries me the few paces to the bed. He lays me down, gently on my front, and sits alongside me, again stroking my hair.

I like it. I ease my head toward his hand, nestling against his palm.

“You did well, really well. I’m very impressed.” His voice is soft, calming me. Reassuring me. “I really thought you’d use that red band, and I wouldn’t have blamed you. Twenty was a lot, for a tiny little thing like you. I didn’t expect you to be able to take it. You’re tougher than you look.”

I shudder, the memory of my ordeal still raw. But under the horror is a growing sense of…what? Something else, something different entirely. Pride maybe. Delight that I’ve pleased him, that I’ve earned his approval and his admiration. And—achievement. I feel a strong and growing sense of personal satisfaction. I completed my test, I did what I had to do. What I set out to do. My smile is watery, yes, but genuine as I gaze up at him. He’s finished with me, he’ll be going soon, but I want him to know I’m okay.

And I wish, I wish with every fiber of my shaky little being, that he was mine, that he was my Dom. But he isn’t, will never be, he’s made that clear. And now, he’s going. He’ll be leaving me here, on my own.

Sure enough, he gets up, stands over me, looking down at my sore but still rather smug little body.

“You won’t want to sit down for a while, and your bottom is a truly gorgeous shade of crimson. Absolutely glowing. If it wasn’t against house rules, I’d take a picture to show you later. But still…” He smiles at me again, his arms folded now as he gets ready to leave me.

“I intend to spend the rest of my evening in the dungeon. You, Miss Stone, you have a choice to make. This room is reserved for the rest of the evening, you can stay here as long as you like, as long as you need to. You won’t be disturbed. And when you’re ready you can either stay and enjoy the rest of your evening at the club, or you can call it a night and go home, it’s up to you.

“Or, Miss Stone, you can ask me to wait while you get dressed, and then you can come with me, spend the rest of the evening with me, in the dungeon. Which would you prefer? The red band says you’ve had enough of me, and want me to fuck off now and leave you alone. Or the yellow tells me to wait for you. Oh, and Miss Stone, one more thing you should know before you choose. If you choose yellow, then we
will
end up back here before the night’s over. And I
will
fuck you until you
do
faint. I’ll make a good job of it, I promise you that, but if you really don’t want to be fucked tonight, hard and long and very, very deep, you need to show me your red wristband now.”

I’m staring at him, sure I’m hallucinating. He must have hit me harder than either of us thought. Or I’m out cold and dreaming. Did the wonderful, sexy, gorgeous Nicholas Hardisty, the most adorable, desirable Dom I’ve ever laid eyes on, did that Nicholas Hardisty really just invite me to scene with him in the dungeon here at the Collared and Tied club, then promise to bring me back here and fuck me till I faint? Did I really hear that? Was he actually talking to me?

Apparently so, because now he’s back, crouching alongside me again, his face inches from mine. “Well, Miss Stone, do I stay or do I go?”

I gaze at him, wonderstruck, for a few more moments before I manage to wriggle my arms free from underneath me. And I reach out to him, with my right hand. The yellow band.

Nicholas Hardisty smiles, warm, welcoming, his pleasure genuine. He takes my outstretched hand and turns it palm up, drops a kiss onto the center of my palm. “Good, I’m glad. I’m going to enjoy your company tonight, Miss Stone.”

Chapter Three

In true Dom/sub tradition I thought I’d be walking behind him as we make our way down the stairs and along the central corridor in the club. Instead, as we leave room nine Nicholas Hardisty holds out his hand to me. I take it, and find myself walking beside him. At the top of the stairs, he stops to exchange a few words with another Dom, an older man I vaguely recognize, called Richard, I think. When I would have hung back discreetly he tugs me forward, right alongside him and drapes his arm across my shoulders, sinking his fingers into my hair. Telling me I belong here, with him, at least for tonight. So I stay close, soaking it up, drinking it in.

At the door to the dungeon he stops, turns to me, tips my chin up with his finger. “You okay? Still happy to come in here with me?”

I smile and nod.

Happy? This is all my Christmases and birthdays come at once. I never could have imagined this, never could have expected to be here, and as someone’s sub. And not just anyone’s sub. Nicholas Hardisty’s. Wow! I often spend my time at the
Collar
down here, most of the unattached subs do. But usually, invariably, I’m just watching—the pleasure vicarious at best—a passive audience to the sensual joys and dramas of others. Other subs with regular Doms, perhaps, or the really attractive, popular, better trained subs who are always in demand, can always rely on being invited to join a scene. But I’m inexperienced, and I know I’m hard work. My lack of vocal clues and responses makes me a less rewarding prospect than most other subs. The more responsible Doms are uncertain of my consent because I can’t tell them what I want and don’t want, and the less responsible ones just scare me. So I usually sit on the edge and settle for watching from the sidelines. But not tonight. Tonight, I could get to play too. If I want to.

We enter the dungeon, Nicholas Hardisty’s arm still looped around my shoulders. I catch a ripple of movement from a group of subs just inside the door, over to my right, and I know they’ve seen, they’re speculating about how I came to land this fish. I manage not to look their way, keep my attention focused on my Dom for the evening, remembering my manners. Good manners are essential to a sub, the alternative is to be corrected, punished. And I’ve taken enough punishment for one night. So now, I’m on my best behavior.

“Would you like a drink? Water? Pepsi? Juice?” Nicholas is smiling at me, obviously pleased with my attitude so far.

I’d very much like an orange juice, but I’m starting to get flustered, wondering how to tell him what I want. He notices, and goes through the options again, but this time holding up the fingers on his left hand, and using his right index finger to point to each one as he names my choices. I smile, delighted, and tap his left index finger, the juice finger.

He nods, holds up two fingers. “Orange, or apple?”

Again he points to indicate the selections, and I tap his finger to indicate orange. Then we go through the same procedure to establish ice or no ice, before Nicholas strolls off to the bar in the corner. He comes back a minute or two later with a tall glass of iced orange juice for me and a glass of what looks to be sparkling water for himself. He hands me my glass, then laces his fingers through mine to lead me farther into the dungeon. I tighten my grip on his hand as I follow him over to an empty couch more or less in the middle of the huge room.

The spot is dark and secluded, but with a good view all around us. He taps his glass against mine, the cheery clink reinforcing his easy, relaxed, undemanding attitude. Gone now is the harsh Dom I had to contend with upstairs, the one who reduced me to tears just with his words, then went on to beat the living daylights out of me. In fairness, in retrospect, it wasn’t all bad. He also gave me tools and tricks to help me communicate, to give me choice and a way to protect myself. He took the time and trouble to listen to what I had to say, he answered my questions, helped me to understand this lifestyle choice of ours better than I ever have before. He helped me to see where I’d gone wrong, and he also managed to instil in me the confidence and courage to get me through the worst, most painful discipline I have ever faced. So yes, I have no complaints so far.

That Dom was then, now I have a friendly, warm companion, ready to show me a good time. And I intend to enjoy myself.

“So, you’ve seen me here before? In the dungeon?”

I look at him, surprised, how did he know I’d been watching him? I always stay out of sight, never draw attention to myself. Don’t I?

“In your email. You said you’d seen me here, in the dungeon. Do you spend a lot of time down here?”

I nod, take another sip of my orange juice as he pulls out his phone again. My heart sinks. Am I boring him already? But he hands it to me, the notepad app back on the screen. “So, how come you’ve seen me, but I can’t remember ever seeing you before?”

I look down at the phone in my hand, it’s designed for surfing the internet and whatever else, but I suspect he never had this particular use in mind when he bought it. It’s simple enough though, if you’re used to this sort of thing. I am. I have a similar sort of smart phone, but it’s tucked away in my bag in the cloakroom. I even have an app on mine which supposedly converts typed words into speech, but I never use it. I’d rather sign elegantly or write things down than sound like a Dalek with laryngitis and speak at a rate of three words a minute. I quickly tap out my response on the tiny on-screen keyboard.

Only couples and Doms tend to come and sit here, in the middle. I usually stand over there by the door, with the other subs. You’d never see me there. It’s too dark.

I hand the phone back to him, he reads quickly, then turns me on the settee so my back is against his side. He puts the phone back in my hands. “Now I can read over your shoulder, as you’re writing. So, you usually just watch then?”

I nod, no need to write that.

“What do you watch? What’s your favorite sort of scene? Is there anything you’d like to try?”

I hesitate, thinking, not sure. The choices are endless. The possibilities spread out before me seem limitless in this moment, and I have no idea where to settle. He chuckles, tightens his arms around my waist, his fingers spread across my stomach, warm and firm against my bare flesh. “You seem tense, Miss Stone. While you’re thinking about that, let me help you to relax.” He slides his hand up, under my crop top, cupping and caressing my breast, first the right, then the left.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs the question into my ear.

I bow my head, just slightly, just enough.

“And this?” He takes my right nipple between his thumb and finger, squeezes, at first lightly, then tightens his grip until I wince. He holds it, keeps the pressure on for a few seconds.

I’m arching against him, gasping, and he eventually releases me.

“Did I hurt you?”

I nod again, but make no attempt to move.

“Did you like it?”

Another bob of my head signals my pleasure.

“Mmm, sexy little sub. I love this top by the way, but I think it’d look much, much better folded up on the floor. Take it off, please.”

I glance over my shoulder, catch his gaze again, but I don’t hesitate. I lean forward and pull the crimson and black top over my head, fold it carefully then place it on the floor beside the settee. And I settle back against him.

“Take the skirt off too, please. And the thong this time.”

The request was softly delivered, but I can feel as much as hear the thread of steel in there. He’s relaxed, he’s easy—we’re here to have fun. But he’s a Dom and I’m a submissive, or very nearly, and I’m expected to obey. I’ve never been naked in the dungeon before, nor in any of the public areas for that matter. It seems I will be tonight though. And again, I don’t allow myself to hesitate. My skirt and thong are quickly deposited on the floor too, and again I lay back against Nicholas Hardisty, my body exposed, available, his to do what he wants with. I just hope it’s going to be good.

“Tell me what you’ve done so far, on your voyages of discovery? I’m pretty sure no one’s used your arse much before now, which does seem a waste. Am I right so far?”

Again, I signal my agreement with a slight dip of my chin. No need for the phone.

“What else? What other fairground attractions have you been on up to now?”

He’s idly stroking my breasts again, gentle, soothing, arousing me. The electric current starts to zip around my body, that arcing triangle between both my nipples and my clit. Still, his words sting a bit and I tell him so.

Please don’t make fun of me. I know that email was stupid.

He nuzzles my neck, and despite my little show of prickliness I tingle.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just asking, and I do want to know. Tell me please.”

I shrug, tilt my head to give him better access and decide to let it go.

Not much. Mostly it’s just been spanking. And a ruler once, in the schoolroom upstairs. On my bum and then my hands. I hated that—my hands I mean. I use them a lot, but I could hardly move them for days. That Dom invited me to scene again, but I refused. Too scared. And then, a few weeks after that, I emailed you.

“I see. And how do you like to be fucked?”

I don’t understand, what do you mean?

“From behind? Do you like to be on top? Underneath? Against a wall? Kneeling? Standing? I don’t usually take requests, but I might with you. Just this once.”

I don’t know really. Limited experience, I suppose. From behind seems nice.

“Seems?”

His hand stills. Is this it? Is this the moment he decides I really am just too much bother? I start to panic, grab the phone again.