His Lordships Daughter (12 page)

“Don’t you know?” Phyllipa watched him carefully.

Steven shrugged his shoulders a
nd stood silently thinking, 
smiled and nodded. “Ah! If I am not mistaken, I am looking at some sort of masochistic machine.” He looked at Phyllipa. “Am I right?”

“Absolutely! I call it my New Yorker!”

“How does it work?” he asked.

Phyllipa quickly placed her body against the metal uprights and reached her hands upwards to grasp the velvet handcuffs causing the bath towel to lose
its
gravitational fight and silently fall in a heap on the floor. Phyllipa kicked at it with her feet. “Do I need to pick this up and wear it again?” she asked, innocently, spreading her legs as wide as she could against the frame.

The colour in Steven’s face heightened as he ripped his clothes from his body and threw them on a chair. Phyllipa, her nipples brimming with blood watched with feverish satisfaction at his half thickening erection released from the confines of social convention was already stiffening, causing her to nod with satisfaction. Her morning ride, as ever, had sharpened both her sexual and her food appetite and now, she’d had her breakfast pleasure, it was time for her first carnal pleasure of the day.

Walking over to a table she selected a silver handled horse crop. Handing it to Steven she pointed to the back of the frame. “I want you to handcuff me to the frame, then stand facing me.” Steven, his face twisting with the effort of restraint, took the whip, then manacling Phyllipa to the frame, stood before her his throbbing flesh standing proud!

Phyllipa, bending her head, teased the head of the swollen phallus with her tongue. Closing her eyes she suddenly opened her lips, greedily sucking on its length, while Steven gently worked it in and out of the warm mouth. Suddenly she stopped what she was doing and glared at him. “That crop in your hand is for hitting me! I need to hurt!” but her boss shook his head. “I can’t do this Phyllipa!” he confessed, lamely “Sorry!”

“Why?” Phyllipa was genuinely curious. No-one had ever refused her before.

“
Because
I love you too much and I don’t wish to injure you.” He hurled the crop across the room
, it skidded along the carpet, disappearing under a chaise longue. “Sorry!”

“You bit my neck the other night.” She argued, furious at his refusal to give her what she so desperately needed. “Look!” she tilted her head to show him the blemish on her skin. “I’ve still got the mark!”

Sadly, he shook his head. “That was different. That was a love bite!”

“That was masochism Steven, Humiliation! Domination. Degradation! Plain and simple. Take your pick!” Her eyes blazed with anger. “Well I took my pick many years ago, and chose pain. The other three
don’t interest me, I’m not cut out for any of them. We are all entitled to one insult in this life and I chose to hurt! It is my pleasure, my decision, my right!” the anger in her eyes turned to a burning hostility.

For a few moments Steven, his grey eyes flecked with anxiety, stood still as if deciding what to do next, then slowly walking around the frame, he unbuckled the velvet braces freeing the woman he loved, who immediately started rubbing her painful wrists. “I’ve had more fun with my hairdresser than this.”  She snarled, marching through her bedroom with her head in the air, but she never got there!

Steven pounced, flinging her bodily like a sack of chaff over his shoulder. Going through to her bedroom, he flung her on the bed, she bounced twice then sat up with her legs outstretched and glowered at him. “As I said, I don’t want to hurt you.” He explained. “Not that way, but if it’s a spot of cave-man stuff that you want, then I can oblige!” grabbing hold of her by the hair, he pulled her struggling to the bottom of the bed, folded her body over the brass rail then rammed his engorged flesh between her thighs, deep inside her. Phyllipa, gasping at the force of his entry, arched her legs as wide as she possible could to capture the thrusting phallus. Already her salacious energy was creating havoc with her sexual intercom. Already her body was greedily accepting that which she believed was hers by right and already forgotten was Steven’s refusal to whip her. All that could be sorted out later. Now was her satisfaction time.

But, to her utter dismay, the drives were exactly the opposite of what she expected, he just hammered her pelvis with short, insensitive and brutal thrusts which gave her no quarter and
very
little pleasure
.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she screamed at him. “This is not like you!” the pumping got faster and she moaned softly with utter frustration as she tried, without success, to wriggle away from the vice like embrace.

“You asked for the cave-man touch.” Steven told her. “Now you are getting it!” The brutal thrusting continued causing her to cry out again, until suddenly, with one huge shove she felt the surge of his offering flooding her loins causing his body to fall heavily, squashing her belly against the hardness of the metal rail. Aching and sore, she gasped for breath as she struggled to escape the downward pressure. But, suddenly it eased as Steven looked at his wrist watch. “I’m late.” He complained, rolling off her and on to the bed. “I should have been in the office ten minutes ago.” Kicking his legs to the floor, he turned and looked at Phyllipa. Then, lifting her
up
in his arms, placed her gently on the bed where she immediately coiled up, coitus fashion and hid her face in her hands. For a few moments he stood there looking at her, expecting her to say something, but Phyllipa stayed silent. Then, shrugging his shoulders, Steven went in search of his clothing.

Chapter 10

Phyllipa watched the huge machine as it went about its business of printing cardboard cartons. For some unknown reason the procedure always fascinated her. She chuckled as wet on wet colours built up into the finished product. Perhaps, among all her countless forebears there might have been a budding engineer who, through a latent gene was holed up in her individuality. Whatever it was, she found the machinery of present day mass production, intriguing.

Pulling a finished sheet from the machine, she studied it. “Eat me early Breakfast Cereal!” in huge red and yellow letters screamed across the front of the carton against a background of falling natural fruit and nuts. “Not bad!” she shouted t
o the machine minder, who smiled and
, stuck his thumb in the air. Checking a glass dial on the machine, she took a printed number from it, wrote it on her clipboard, then, walked slowly back to her office.

Sitting at her desk, she stuck a pencil in her hair and checked the figures again the Contract breakdown, uttering a grunt of satisfaction as the figures tallied. Her “Kristex” job was bang on schedule.

She had taken yesterday off! After the charade with Steven, she hadn’t felt like work of any kind. When he had left Roselands she had called him all the bastards she could lay tongue to. But somewhere, deep in her
psyche
she had a sneaking feeling that perhaps their misunderstanding might have been six of one and half a dozen of the other. After all, from their first encounter with each other at Davenport Hotel, she was well aware of the gentleness he was capable of. For a few moments she mused, tapping the end of her pencil against her teeth. It was a pity about his reluctance to punish her but perhaps they would get the chance to talk it through some time later on. Perhaps he was jealous of the New Yorker! “The repugnance of something, however intimate, which succours
*
the love of the hater!” she laughed softly to herself as her memory recalled her tame psychiatrist’s cardinal law. He had a name for it, but she could not
remember what it was.

Wrenching her thoughts away from the delights of the bedroom, she glanced at the calendar on the desk. For six months she had been with SG, enjoying every minute of it, but was well aware that if she went the distance she won the bet, leaving the company would create a large vacuum in her life. When working for a living had first sprung to mind, she hadn’t taken into consideration that she may actually like it! The cut and thrust of business , the friends which she had made and the sheer authority of it all added up to a responsibility which she found pleasing.

Looking at the carton again, she laughed out loud presuming that two million people wouldn’t get their favourite breakfast if she didn’t do what had to be done. It was that sort of profession and she loved it.

Suddenly becoming aware that she was hungry, she was just leaving for the canteen when the telephone rang. Lifting the receiver she listened to her friend Clive Hunter, the banker.

“Something nasty has just hit the fan.” He told her, a peculiar edge to his tone. “Something very nasty!”

“Does it concern me?” she wondered why he was ringing her.

“Not directly, but indirectly very much so.”

“Well today hasn’t been anything special, so you may as well ruin the rest of it. What’s wrong?”

“Not on the phone, Phyllipa. This is a face to face thing. Do you think you could pop in?”

“When?”

“Immediately!”

Phyllipa frowned. “I just can’t keep popping here and there. I have a factory to run.”

Clive snorted. “Don’t mess about. This is a serious matter.”

“O.K I’m on my way, have a sandwich and a glass of white wine waiting for me.”

*
  Succours (meaning) assistance or relief

“Will do!”
the phone went dead. Phyllipa replaced the receiver and her face
took on a thoughtful look as she wondered what sort of problem Clive had got entangled with. Grabbing her handbag and car keys, she popped into Steven’s office on her way to the company car park. She had not seen him since yesterday morning, but attack was always her first commandment. He was studying a huge engineering drawing and didn’t hear her enter. Creeping up behind him, she suddenly put both her hands around his eyes “Guess who?” she teased. Steven removed them kissing each one in turn. “I’d know your hands anywhere, I’ve been thinking of you all morning.”

“Huh! You’ve been enjoying yourself while I’ve been hard at it.” She complained, a smile creeping across her face. “I have to go out!”

Throwing his pencil down on the drawing board he turned to her “Is it something I should know about?”

“Of course not, I won’t be long! I am certain you are not going to miss me for an hour or so.”

“Phyllipa, I miss you every second of every day of every night and I wish I didn’t.” He replied a serious look on his face. “But during working hours I have this curious old fashioned idea that if you go ou
t
in my time, I should know about it.” He spread his hands in supplication. “You and I have been down this road before!”

“But, this is private.” She argued.

“Then do it during your private time.” He persisted, intent on
winning at least one company rule battle with her.

“Is this one of your more difficult days?” her eyebrows lifted as if daring him to say “no!”

“I don’t have difficult days, I just meet difficult people.”

“Well, I suppose on second thoughts I could postpone things.” She
murmured
.
carefully watching his face
, “after all,we have not discussed my new salary yet and perhaps now maybe the time....she broke off as her boss int
errupted  yes, ok   you have my permission to take an hour off. “ he looked at his watch
.
then back at
her.
“But, please, occasionally remember, you work for me!”

“Thank you Steven, of course, it is a recorded statistic that clever people such as yourself do travel through difficult days.” She rattled the car keys in her hand. “I just thought that you should know that.”

Steven poi
nted to a spare chair. “
, I want to talk to you seriously!”

“About what?” she remained standing.

“Yesterday morning.”

“Look let’s discuss that later.” She urged. “It’s not something that can be sorted out in five minutes.”

“I behaved very badly!”

“I know you did.” She nodded her head, vigorously agreeing with him. “But now is not the time Steven.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ve got to go!” reaching her car, she got in, started the engine, drove away and fifteen minutes later walked into the Imperial Bank and Clive Braseby.

“Glass of white wine and sandwiches!” his finger pointed to them on the desk.

“I was just going for something to eat when you called.” Phyllipa explained, sitting in a leather chair. “What’s the problem?”