A Talent for Surrender (6 page)

Cyn helped the man to his feet and the crowd began to disperse. The camera crew moved over to Dan to get his reaction.

‘Did that get you going?’

Dan turned to see a tall slender woman in a slinky black dress standing by his side.

‘I’m not sure . . . yes, it did I suppose. But I’m sort of horrified as well. I mean, why would anyone voluntary submit to that kind of abuse?’

‘Did it look like abuse to you? He looked as though he was thoroughly enjoying himself to me.’

‘He certainly did. That’s why I’m confused I think. It was clearly consensual – and highly pleasurable. And yet, she was hurting him . . . giving him real pain. I’m having trouble understanding it.’ Dan was conscious of the crew filming a few feet away, but the woman didn’t seem at all bothered by their presence.

‘I’m not sure any of us fully understands it. There are plenty of books about the psychology of kink but, ultimately, we just do it because it feels good.’

‘And it feels good even if it hurts like hell?’

‘Especially then. Pleasure and pain . . . the divine dichotomy.’

Dan thought she sounded vaguely American – or maybe Canadian, as her vocabulary was definitely English. Her hair was a sleek black asymmetrical bob. Her dress had a deep V at the front which dipped almost to her waist. Her breasts were small and pointed and the nipples were clearly visible through the silky fabric. The sleeves of her gown were long and flowing. The look reminded him of someone but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

‘Now I’ve seen it in action I can see that’s possible but I’m not sure I’d want to try it for myself.’

‘You never know, you might enjoy it. I’m Sadie, by the way.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Sadie. Are you Canadian? I think I can detect a hint of an accent.’

‘Wash your mouth out! I’m American, from New York State, though I’ve lived here nearly thirty years now. So, do you think you want to try it for yourself?’

‘Personally, my instinct is to say no but, in the spirit of sharing and for the sake of the film, I’d consider it.’

‘You should come to my dungeon and do some filming there. I’m fairly certain you’ll find it illuminating.’

‘You have a dungeon? How medieval.’

‘More of a basement, really. It’s where I see my clients. I’m a professional dominatrix.’

‘Really? I thought they only existed in racy novels.’

‘Not at all. We’re very real and, since the Internet, pretty easy to find.’

‘So what do you do to people?’

She shrugged. ‘Whatever they want. Some want pain and there are various ways of delivering it. Others are attracted to humiliation and want to be led around on all fours like dogs and verbally abused. Some want to be dressed up . . . I have an extensive wardrobe. There’s also a medical fetish room where I can do enemas and piercings and that sort of thing. The list is endless.’

‘Do you stick needles through people’s nipples and nail their scrotums to boards like in the film
Maîtresse
?’

‘Yes, I do.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘Whatever they want, as long as I’m sure I can do it safely.’

‘Wow. I must admit I thought that stuff was made up just for the movie.’

‘Well, now you know. If you’re serious about trying it for yourself, I’ll give you a session in my dungeon.’

‘And you’re happy for the crew to come along and film there?’

‘Sure. I’ve got several clients who’d be perfectly happy to take part. In fact they’d probably get off on it.’

‘Thanks, we’ll definitely take you up on that.’

‘And will you be taking up my offer of a private session?’

‘As long as you promise not to poke any needles in my nadgers.’

‘Spoilsport . . . But, of course, I’ll respect your limits. You’ll be perfectly safe.’

‘And you promise not to hurt me?’

She shook her head slowly. ‘No, darling, I definitely will. But you’ve got to remember that, while I may hurt you, I’ll never harm you.’

‘OK, it’s a deal. I’ll ask Sarah, my producer, to set it up.’

‘I’ll look forward to hearing from her.’

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Sure.’

‘I met Poppy out in the conservatory and she said she thought I was a natural sub.’

‘And you want me to say she got it wrong and you’re obviously a big butch dom?’ Sadie began to laugh.

‘So you think she’s right?’

She leaned forwards and put her mouth close to his ear. He could feel her hot breath on his neck. ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’

Sadie walked away and, as he watched her cross the room, it struck him who she had reminded him of: Morticia Addams. She had the same wardrobe and make-up and the same hint of danger and strangeness.

Across the room, Dan spotted Jim, the group’s chairman. Apart from his leather trousers, he was dressed perfectly conventionally. In fact, he looked like a business executive desperately trying to dress the part but failing miserably. There was just something utterly wholesome and conventional about him. Dan nodded to the film crew and walked over to him.

‘Hi, Dan. Are you having a good time?’

‘It’s certainly been interesting. I had no idea at all what to expect but it certainly wasn’t this.’

‘You knew about the dress code and you knew that there would be a few scenes going on, surely?’

‘A scene is what you call a session, right? Like the beating Madame Cyn gave to the man on the lead.’

‘That’s the idea, or you might call it playing; people often refer to gatherings like these as play parties.’ Jim picked up his glass and took a sip.

‘I can see I’ve got a lot to learn. You’re right, I did know there might be some action, I just didn’t realise how it would make me feel.’

‘And how does it make you feel?’

‘I don’t know where to start.’ Dan ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Shocked, certainly. Appalled even – that people would do that sort of thing for pleasure. But I also find it strangely exciting. And, do you know, as I watched Madame Cyn and the slave I was honestly unable to distinguish between horror and arousal.’

‘That must be very . . . I don’t know . . . unsettling.’

‘Yes, it is. I’m completely confused and not at all comfortable at finding violence arousing.’

‘Is it violence, do you think, if it’s consensual and mutually desired? Isn’t it just extreme?’

‘It’s certainly that and I can see how powerful and intimate it is for the people involved.’

‘Did Sadie talk you into trying it for yourself?’

‘Yes, she did. How did you know?’

‘She said she’d ask you and she seldom takes no for an answer. You’re in for a treat; she’s one of the best. You’ll be in good hands.’

‘I hope so. We were talking about that scene in
Maîtresse
where the Madame pierces the slave’s nipples and hammers his scrotum to a board. I must admit it rather scared me.’

‘Horses for courses. The slaves in that film were real clients of the Madame they used as advisor. They were queuing up to be abused on screen.’

‘You mean they actually did it? It wasn’t faked? Now I really am shocked.’

‘All genuine. You see, we’re an exhibitionist bunch by and large. A lot of us get off on public play and being seen. When they made
Preaching to the Perverted
people in the scene were falling over themselves to be in it. And you can hardly watch late-night TV these days without stumbling across another documentary about S&M. We just love showing off.’

‘That’s what Poppy said to me.’

‘Ah, so you’ve met the wife.’

‘I have, but I didn’t realise you were her husband. It all falls into place now. I made the mistake of thinking that Nick was her partner and she found it rather funny.’

‘Nick? Now he’s the biggest TV whore of us all. He just loves the limelight. You’ll have to watch out, he can be a real scene stealer.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind. I’ve never asked, but I find I’m curious, why did you agree to do this film?’

‘Because you seemed to want to look beyond the surface and see the people underneath. You aren’t just interested in what we do but why we do it and how it makes us feel. It just seemed to us that you might really be interested in what makes us tick.’

‘But you know my reputation. Weren’t you concerned that I might be trying to manipulate you? That I might have the same agenda as everyone else? It might turn out to be just another freak show.’

‘No, because you don’t see us as freaks. You’re fascinated by us, anyone can see that. You honestly want to understand.’

‘Thanks, I appreciate your trust in me.’

‘By the way, I bumped into Jo Lennox yesterday and she tells me you’re hoping to do a film at Hall Croft? I hope you’re not intending to turn it into a scathing exposé of private education, because anyone who tried to pull a fast one on Jo Lennox would live to regret it.’

‘How do you know Jo?’

Jim laughed. ‘Everyone knows her.’

‘You’re not saying she’s a pervert?’

‘No, I’m not.’ Jim sipped his drink. ‘Would you be surprised if she was?’

‘I’m not sure. She’s undeniably sexy and she certainly doesn’t lack confidence, but she just seemed so respectable.’

‘Assuming she is a pervert – and we’re definitely speaking hypothetically here – you wouldn’t expect her to go to work dressed in rubber, would you? I can’t imagine it going down very well with the Board of Governors, for a start.’

‘I suppose not. You’ve piqued my interest now. Come on, you’ve got to put me out of my misery.’

‘You’ll have to ask her yourself, I’m afraid. But I will say that, even though I’m a dom, if I ever found myself kneeling at her feet naked and quivering, I would count myself a very lucky man.’

Four

That night in bed Jo cuddled up behind Costas, his buttocks nestled into her lap. Her arm was wrapped around his chest, her hand in his. She could feel his hard muscles and smooth skin. She could feel the birdcage of his ribs rise and fall as he breathed.

Outside an owl hooted. Jo could hear Costas’s watch ticking on the bedside table. She listened as his breathing slowed and sleep relaxed and softened his muscles. She closed her eyes.

When she woke up it was light outside and Costas was gone. Jo reached across the bed and stroked the dent his head had left in the pillow. She smiled to herself. The first time he’d disappeared in the night she’d worried that something was wrong but he’d assured her it was nothing personal. He just preferred waking up in his own bed.

She turned over and looked at the alarm clock’s digital display. It was 5 a.m. Jo slid over to Costas’s side of the bed where the sheets were cool and his smell still lingered.

More than an hour later she was still awake. Her logic told her it was still the middle of the night, but the bright sunlight streaming in through the open curtains told her senses it was daytime. She slid out of bed and put on her dressing gown and slippers. She fetched a towel from the bathroom and let herself out of the flat, leaving the door on the latch.

Downstairs, she pulled back the huge iron bolts on the front door and walked down the steps onto the drive. As soon as she reached the lawn, she stepped out of her slippers. The grass was cool and dew-damp under her feet. Jo could see the sun gleaming off the glassy surface of the lake.

She walked out to the centre of the bridge over the lake and put down her towel on top of the knee-high stone balustrade. She undid the belt of her silk robe and slid it off. The sun warmed her naked skin. A cool breeze stiffened her nipples. She stepped up onto the wall and dived into the green water, barely rippling the surface.

The lake was cold and silent and vast. She could hear the sounds of nature all around her; birds twittering overhead, the breeze rustling the leaves, the hoarse calls of the waterfowl.

She could smell the moist aroma of earth and the green vegetable scent of the waterweed. She moved silently through the water, doing breaststroke. On the bank a swan preened its wings.

Her wet body gleamed in the light. Her normally pale nipples were dark and wrinkled. She lay on her back in the water and looked up at the cloudless blue sky. High above, a flock of geese flew in formation. She could see the white vapour trail of a jet.

The sun hurt her eyes and she closed them. The water muffled and muted all sounds. She could hear the sound of her own breathing and blood pumping in her ears. She could hear the water itself lapping around her body.

Jo kicked her legs and languidly snaked her arms, steering herself in the direction of a wooden jetty that jutted out into the lake. She could feel the strength of the water as it resisted her limbs. As she neared the jetty, she rolled over onto her front and swam to the edge. She heaved herself up onto the wooden planking and climbed out.

Back in the house, she showered and washed her hair then made coffee and toast. She put her breakfast on a tray and carried it through to the living room. As she sat down on the sofa she noticed the DVD Dan had given her on the coffee table. She went over and switched on the TV and put the disc into the player.

Dan was definitely handsomer in the flesh, she reflected as she watched the screen. And he was much more manly and confident than he came across on TV. The self-deprecating humour was still there, along with that refusal to take himself seriously which she found so captivating and attractive.

He dressed better in real life, too, playing down his boyish gawkiness. He’d looked stylish and elegant in his simple black outfit and his slenderness had given him the look of a young Bryan Ferry.

It was easy to see how he used his natural charm and that appealing quality of innocence to manipulate his subjects. He looked so wholesome, so honourable, that somehow you just had to trust him. Jo could imagine their stunned, mystified faces as they watched the final film, unable to work out how he’d got them to make such fools of themselves. But, she was willing to bet, they’d grown so fond of him that they couldn’t quite find it in themselves to resent it.