Faith (12 page)

As far as my own sensual needs are concerned, I sought out enlightenment elsewhere because, at the time, I didn’t think I could ever have a relationship with Ewan. I couldn’t see past the darkness that was now, to the bright possibility that was my future. It was still too soon, everything still too raw. The anniversary was an enormous watershed, a cathartic moment. Going back to the scene with Ewan was what I needed to do to finally understand that Ed and Caroline were in the past. I suspect Ewan was ready to move on much earlier than I was, but he waited for me.

He’s waiting still. Next door.

I pick up the cuffs and the spanking crop and head off in search of further enlightenment.

I don’t knock. We’re past that. Clutching the cuffs and crop in my hands, I stalk Ewan’s house looking for him.

He isn’t in his office, my first port of call. Nor is he in the kitchen, or the lounge. I make for the stairs.

I open his bedroom door to find that room empty too. I wander along the landing to the next door, the room overlooking the back garden. Here I find him.

Ewan has his back to me. He’s leaning on the windowsill looking out. He doesn’t turn his head as I enter.

“I’m pleased to see you.” His voice is low, even. Warm.

“You have eyes in the back of your head now? Is this a dom thing?” A tad sharp, as greetings go, but I’m nervous.

“Nothing so fanciful. You’re reflected in the glass. I notice you didn’t come empty-handed.”

“No.”

“But, you have questions?”

“Yes.”

“If I can provide answers to your questions, will you kneel naked at my feet? Will you allow me to cuff you? Will you let me apply that crop to your lovely bottom, as you so richly deserve?”

“Yes.”

He turns to face me at last. His hips resting against the window sill he lowers his brows and folds his arms. I have never seen him more formidable, more intimidating. More utterly gorgeous. My pussy melts. I’m drooling in anticipation despite his promise of pain to come before pleasure. Or are pleasure and pain so hopelessly intertwined as to make it meaningless for me to attempt to tease them one from the other?

“So, ask.”

“I glance around me. “Is this Caroline’s room?”

“Yes. It was. I’m planning to clear out her stuff. Her brother’s been in touch wanting her things. I told him he could take anything of hers he would like, and I’ll dispose of the rest.” He gives me a wry smile. “It’s time.”

“Would you clear me out so easily?”

“You? You’re not in.”

I’m not deflected by his apparent dismissal. “I don’t mean handbags and knick-knacks. That’s just stuff. Would you let me go as easily as you let go of Caroline?”

“I’ll never let you go. I love you.”
That’s more like it.

“You loved Caroline. Once.”

“Did I say that?”

“You must have…”

“No. I never loved her. I thought I’d made that plain.”

I think back to his description of what was, indeed, a fairly casual relationship. It took on the appearance of being more because they shared a house. Looking around this room, the room so obviously occupied by Caroline during most of her time here, it’s clear they didn’t live together in any meaningful sense. A pile of celebrity gossip magazines beside the bed, cosmetics and toiletries neatly lined up on the dressing table, shoes on the floor—this was clearly Caroline’s personal space. I have seen nothing of hers in Ewan’s room.

“Could you love a submissive?”

“I
do
love a submissive. I thought I made that plain too. Even if that submissive is slow on the uptake and not quite ready yet to accept the truth of her nature. And mine.”

I’m trying not to be side-tracked, but I can’t suppress my smile. I continue. “This can’t be casual for me. If we do this…”

“When we do this.” He corrects me, his tone gentle but definite. “You brought the cuffs and the crop. I intend to make use of them.”

“…when we do this, it makes our relationship even more—intimate. Even more personal than before. Does that make sense?”

“It makes perfect sense.”

He pushes himself to his feet and steps forward. Standing before me, he grasps a handful of my hair and tilts my head back. He doesn’t pull quite hard enough to hurt, but I know I shouldn’t resist. His face is inches from mine, the deep brown of his eyes gleaming. I’m mesmerised, could not look away if I wanted to. His expression is stern, intense, and utterly sexy. My stomach is doing cartwheels and my knickers are disgracefully wet too. I open my mouth to speak, but he stops me with one arched eyebrow. It seems he has more to say.

“I made my terms clear earlier. I want you as my submissive. I’ll teach you, train you. I’ll help you. I’ll take care of you. You’ll come to no harm with me. For my part I expect you to obey me, to be honest with me, always. I demand respect and courtesy, and you can expect the same from me. I’ll make the rules, we’ll discuss them, but once you accept there’s no going back. I will enforce those rules, and I’ll punish you when I need to. That discipline will be physical, and it will hurt. So, those are my terms. What are yours?”

I hold his gaze as his grip tightens in my hair. I draw in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t let up. Neither does he rush me. I have time to consider my answer.

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be kind to me?”

“Of course.” He narrows his eyes, his expression warming marginally.

“And gentle?”

His jaw flexes, and those gorgeous chocolate-coloured eyes gleam, like hard, polished mahogany. He cups my chin in his free hand. His fingertips trace a light pattern across my cheek. “I’ll never treat you roughly. I’ll never push you around or use any form of force. And I’ll never do anything to you without your consent. Will that do?”

I close my eyes as I tilt my face into his caress, uncaring about the discomfort in my scalp as his grip does not yield so much as a fraction. It’s not easy to remain focused as he takes over my senses.

“Yes. But even with all that, what if it’s too much?”

“It will never be too much. You’ll have safe words, but I hope you never feel the need to use them. I’ve had a lot of practice at this. I pay attention as a dom, and I tend to know when a sub’s had enough. You will learn to trust me.”

It’s the reference to his previous experience that brings my final, perhaps my only real demand into sharp focus. I draw in a breath. I have to tell him what I want, demand what matters most to me. This promise is what will set me apart from Caroline, and perhaps from all those other subs.

Ewan sees my hesitation. His eyes narrow again as he searches my features. “Go on.”

“From now on, it has to be only me. No other subs. I need you to promise me that.”

He lifts one eyebrow, seemingly surprised at this request. “Of course. I thought I’d made that clear, but if you need me to spell it out I will. I love you. Only you. We’re exclusive unless we both agree otherwise. Right?”

That is not quite the answer I was looking for, and I’m not convinced. “What do you mean,
both
agree otherwise? I don’t understand…”

“You will, in time. But you have my absolute word that there will be no other submissives. Is that acceptable to you?”

I meet and hold his gaze. “Yes.”

He cocks his head to one side. “I think you mean ‘Yes, sir.’”

“I apologise. Yes, sir.”

He releases his grip on my hair. Rather than relief though, my reaction is more one of abandonment. I want his hands on me, however he chooses to do that.

“Good. You learn fast. Your bottom will benefit greatly from that quality in the months to come. Now, do you have any further questions for me?”

“No, sir. At least, not right at this moment.”

“In that case I’d like you to go to my room, strip, and kneel on the floor at the foot of the bed. Take the cuffs and crop with you, please. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

The items in question are still in my hands. I stare at him. I knew this was coming, knew he would be using the crop on me this evening. Even so, the reality of it, the here and now of it, is daunting. Ewan steps away from me, back to the window. He resumes the position he was in when I entered the room, a lifetime ago.

He waits for ten, perhaps twenty seconds, then, “Faith, why are you still here?”

“Sorry. Sorry, sir.” I turn and scurry back out onto the landing.

* * *

In Ewan’s room I leave the door ajar and drop the crop and the cuffs onto the duvet cover before going over to the window to close the curtains. This is going to be hard enough; no need to be sharing the fun with the neighbours.

I look around me at the familiar furniture, the bits and pieces I’ve come to know well. I sleep in this room more often than in my own these days. My belongings are scattered on the dressing table, a bottle of perfume, earrings. A pair of my shoes is under the bed. I recall Caroline’s possessions, left behind in her room, and I find reassurance in that. I’m here, this is my space. No ghosts.

I make that two pairs of shoes discarded on the floor as I start to undress. I take my time, comfortable in the knowledge that he will know when I am ready. I won’t always be able to set the pace but on this first occasion… probably. I remove my blouse and jeans and fold those with care. I place them on a chair, and drop my underwear on top of the pile. Naked, I pick up the cuffs, wondering if I should put them on. Ewan gave me no such instructions so I place them back alongside the crop. I turn to face the door and drop to my knees.

Perhaps five minutes pass before Ewan comes into the room. He pushes the door open, steps inside, and closes it behind him with a gentle click. He leans back on it, watches me for several seconds.

“You are one seriously lovely woman, Faith. Have I mentioned that to you?”

I start to shake my head, uncertain if a response is required or not. Ewan steps forward to stand right in front of me. I tilt my head back to look up at him as he towers over me.

“I think I have, but I’ll let your lapse of memory go on this occasion. Tell me, Faith, how do you feel?”

“I feel fine, sir.”

“Faith—how do you feel? Tell me. What’s happening in your head right now?”

I pause to introspect. He clearly wants details and ‘fine’ won’t cut it. I draw in several deep breaths before I attempt another reply.

“I feel vulnerable, over-awed. You’re fully dressed, in a sharp and sexy business suit at that. I’m naked, kneeling at your feet. I feel small, and maybe a little scared.”

“Better answer. Are you scared of me?”

“Of course. You intend to punish me.”

“I do. You’ll scream and you’ll beg me to stop. And I will stop, but not until I’m satisfied you’ve learnt the lesson I need to teach you. Then I’ll hold you, and I’ll take care of you. And I’ll fuck you until you scream again. Is all that perfectly clear to you, Faith?”

“Yes, sir.” My voice is barely audible, but still he hears.

“Why are you being punished?”

“Because I went to a BDSM club.”

“No, not that. I have no objection to you frequenting BDSM clubs, though if you decide to repeat the adventure, in future you’ll go with me. Let me make this clear. You deserve to be punished because you kept your kink to yourself. You knew I would want to know, but you didn’t tell me. There may be a certain grey area to all this, because I wasn’t your dom at the time you initially kept this information from me. This is the reason you are looking at a fairly innocuous spanking crop rather than a more demanding implement. The next time you lie to me, be prepared to accept a caning. I suspect you’ll think twice before exposing yourself to another.”

The blood drains from my face as the stark reality of a disciplinary relationship sinks in. Ewan means business, as I’m shortly to experience.

He crouches in front of me, again cupping my chin. “Don’t look so stricken, Faith. I would never do more to you than you can bear. This will soon be over, then we move on. What I have to offer you is intense, demanding, and painful. But pain can feel so good, and submission brings rewards far more often than it attracts punishment. You must know that, or you wouldn’t be here.”

I nod, wordless. I do know that. I remember the heady experience at Fairlawns, the exhilaration of the sharp sting of a paddle against my bottom. If an anonymous dom with a kind smile could draw out that response, how much more would I be aroused by this powerful dom who I already adore?

My pussy moistens still more by way of answer, as Ewan straightens. He picks up the cuffs.

“Your wrists, please.”

I lift my hands and he wraps a cuff around each wrist, buckling them in a snug fit. Then he clips one to the other, using fastenings attached to each. My wrists are restrained in front of me.

“Okay?” Ewan steps away, watching my reaction to being bound for the first time.

I manage a slight nod, unable to resist an experimental tug to test the cuffs. There’s no give at all, though they are not in the least uncomfortable. The leather is soft and supple. I suspect they have seen much use.

“Stand up, please, and lean over the arm of the sofa.” A two-seater leather sofa is tucked into an alcove. As I get to my feet, Ewan pulls it out into the room. It rolls easily across the floor, obviously on casters. Ewan gestures me to stand at one end. He reaches down the side of the cushion at the other end and flicks out a metal clip similar to that which now secures my wrists together. This is no ordinary sofa.

I do as instructed, leaning forward so that my stomach is balanced over the wide, solid arm. My feet are still on the floor, just.

“Stretch your arms out, please, so I can fasten this.”

Obedient, I reach across the sofa and allow Ewan to slot the fastener through a metal loop on one of my cuffs. I’m going nowhere now. Ewan gives my hands a quick tug, and slides his finger under each of the cuffs.

“Do these feel too tight?”

“No, sir.”

He nods, and seemingly satisfied returns to the bed to retrieve the crop. He drops it beside me on the seat of the sofa.

“I’ll warm you up first with my hand to help prevent bruising. This part will hurt too, but you can use it to help you get your head in the right place to cope with the crop. Then you’ll take twenty strokes. Just so you know what to expect, you’ll be screaming after the first three or four strokes, and you’ll no doubt beg me to stop. I won’t unless you use your safe word. For today a simple ‘halt’ will do. Use that exact word if you find what I’m doing intolerable and you have to stop. Do not use it lightly.” He pauses for a few moments, perhaps to let that information sink in.