Mastered: Ten Tales of Sensual Surrender (34 page)

At least she hadn’t been able to until a few moments ago. And now her mind was struggling to catch up with something that her body had already registered.

No! Surely not!

Her head whirled as she snatched at ideas and notions. Feeling vaguely dizzy, she walked unsteadily to the bed and sat down on the thick, down-stuffed duvet to recover.

Oh Lord, what would Maggie and Rachel and Susannah, her work buddies, say? After all the raunchy talk and giggling over lunches. All the denials that, no, they’d never really want to do that stuff, even if it seemed hot in books and films.

And now it seems as if I might want to do it after all. But does he?

By now Ben had dealt smoothly with the porter, and judging by the sound of the man’s enthusiastic response, he’d tipped him well. The man smiled discreetly, nodding to Sarah as he backed away and then left, closing the door behind him. Sarah nodded back, but could think only of Ben’s little tap on her bottom, barely more than a touch, yet so exciting that she’d been forced to gasp out loud.

Is that really it? Is that what’s missing? I… I don’t even know if I’d like anything like that. Not for real…

But even if her head still wasn’t quite sure what it wanted, it was rapidly dawning on her that her body, and heart, had other ideas.

Smiling, Ben slipped off his long, dark coat and whirled it over a chintz-upholstered armchair with a flourish. Then he came toward her, lean and elegant in his dark waistcoat and tailored trousers, the sober formality of his white shirt and dark tie perversely sexy.

My lover.

Every time she thought of him that way, it sent a little silvery frisson along her nerves, right to her sex. And it seemed particularly appropriate to call him that, here in this quietly hedonistic hideaway in the country where the word
boyfriend
seemed inconsequential, trivial. The exclusivity—and cost—of a stay here at The Retreat seemed to suggest a leap to a new level of their relationship.

Oh how she hoped… oh how she hoped that were true.

Especially when Ben came toward her, took her in his arms, and kissed her.

His mouth was as teasing and tender as usual, but in the heart of the kiss there was that special quality.

His power.

Her eyes flew open as his tongue pushed between her lips, and she saw a bright, gleaming fire in his expression. A glitter, a fervor she’d never seen before.

He’d felt it too. He had! He had!

That little tap on the rump was no accident… not at all. It was all part of his carefully crafted plan.

Her body was all a-riot. Her pussy clenched and fluttered spontaneously, excited in a way she’d never experienced before. She’d never been this hot this fast. The pat on the bottom had been a catalyst, a swift, psychic jolt that had inexplicably changed things. Winding her arms around Ben’s strong back, she pressed forward against him, moving wantonly.

When he responded, pressing back and laying her down on the bed so he could move half over her, she discovered he was hard.

She could almost feel every cell in her body squeal
oh goody
! Might they have sex straight away? It was still barely more than late afternoon, and they’d just arrived, but were they going to go to bed immediately?

But after a few moments more of deep kissing and the mastery of his tongue, Ben put her from him. Then he sat up, adjusting the knot of his dark tie back to perfection.

“I… um…” She stuttered, not quite able to ask if they were going to get undressed.

His eyes were still shining, alight with an odd quality of amusement and something almost arch that she’d never seen before. If she’d thought him controlling before, it was nothing compared to the dominion he seemed to hold over her now.

He knows everything and I know nothing.

He didn’t speak for a moment, but the impact of that thought gave her just as much a jolt as the pat on her bottom had, a sensation of weakening and floating and a lightness in her head that was both confusing and as intoxicating as a hefty belt of brandy. Her sex rippled and pulsated like a beating heart.

“I’ll give you chance to freshen up, Sarah.” His voice was even, his gaze unwavering. “I think I’ll go for a walk in the grounds… so you have some time to yourself. I’ll be back in half an hour or so.”

Sarah’s stomach dropped inside her and the sense of loss was a different kind of blow. But then she saw the glint in his eyes increase, and for just a second, he touched his tongue to the center of his lower lip.

It’s a game. He’s playing a game with me.

She didn’t know precisely what it was yet, other than the most general idea, but she was ready to play. Hell yes, she was ready and willing!

“Of course… what a good idea. That’s very thoughtful of you, Ben.”

Lifting her head, she held his gaze, taking it in, reaching for comprehension. A message seemed to pass between them, and the force of it made her lower her eyes again.

Because, suddenly, she wanted to.

Suddenly, she was in awe, total awe of this man.

“Why not have a drink while I’m gone?” he suggested, crossing to the antique sideboard. A tray of bottles and fine-cut glasses stood there. Nothing so crass as a minibar at The Retreat, although there was what appeared to be a small refrigerator set into the cabinet. From it, Ben took a half bottle of champagne, and without asking her, he deftly uncorked it and poured some into a crystal flute for her.

A moment later, he put it into her hand like a magic potion, an obscure erotic sacrament. He watched closely as she raised it to her lips, as if directing her every action, her every thought, even.

The wonderful wine was delicious, the finest she’d ever tasted. But its effervescence was nothing to the inner commotion she felt on looking into Ben’s brown eyes.

She couldn’t even speak to thank him or bid him farewell when he turned and went to the door. With his fingers resting on the door handle, he looked back at her and then winked so swiftly that she wasn’t sure whether she’d imagined it.

She was still wondering when the door closed behind him, and he was gone, heading out for his constitutional.

Shaking again, she sat down, gulping at the vintage champagne as if it were pop.

She felt as if he’d confined her, and the crazy thing was, she liked it. She really did. There was a strange sense of being his captive, in a cell of some kind, even though the room was exquisite and had every luxury she could wish for.

The Retreat was a rambling old country house, set in perfectly manicured grounds that sloped down to a slowly rambling river, the essence of English aristocratic living distilled for the visitor of just a few days. Sarah had known of the place before Ben had presented her with the fait accompli of a long weekend for two, but little more than that. It had a rather mysterious yet vaguely risqué reputation in the area, and even though it had a website, the information there seemed to conceal more than it revealed. It was as if the hotel was a secret hideaway, special and rare, just for the cognoscenti. There’d been an odd note in Ben’s voice when he’d spoken of it. Sort of enigmatic and knowing, as if implying wonders.

There was more wine in the bottle, and she topped off her glass before taking a wander around the room. There were a number of small artworks hanging on the wall, and checking them out would provide a useful distraction. Her brother Alastair was a fine artist—as well as the in-house graphic designer at Freeman Brady—and he’d made a point of educating her and helping her refine her taste. Sarah couldn’t draw herself, but thanks to Allie, she had something of an appreciation, an “eye” for talent in others.

Oh God… oh God…

Nobody needed a sophisticated taste in art to appreciate these works. They were eye-poppingly erotic, eighteenth-century engravings of lords and ladies frolicking and debauching themselves in explicit combinations that left nothing to the imagination. And when Sarah saw a blushing and buxom wench across the knee of nobleman in a powdered wig, she wished she had another bottle of champagne to cool and settle her. It was a spanking, and the delicate cross-hatching across the woman’s bottom showed she’d taken plenty of smacks already.

Oh God… oh God…

Sarah shot to the window. It was open to the garden-scented air and she drew in a lungful to calm herself. Ben was nowhere in sight, but she still seemed to see him striking out along one of the paths with his long, determined stride.

Turning from the window, her eyes alit on a wicker box sitting on the low ottoman at the end of the bed. It looked like an old-fashioned picnic basket with leather fastenings and shiny brass fittings. Curious, she sat down beside it and opened it up.

Her jaw dropped. She felt hot again. Her throat felt dry, and yet everywhere else seemed to feel fluid and sexy.

In keeping with the lewd artwork on the wall and the general atmosphere of sophisticated decadence, the box was filled with a selection of explicitly erotic toys.

Sarah wasn’t a prude, and she immediately recognized vibrators and dildos and what looked like nipple clamps, all sealed in cellophane.
For the hygiene and convenience of our guests
it said on a handwritten note resting on top of the wicked cornucopia. She examined various items for a few minutes without unwrapping them, not sure whether she wanted Ben to know she’d been perusing them or not.

But just when she’d decided to take the plunge and take the wrappings off a vibrator, the chiming of a fine ormolu clock on the fireplace told her it was time she was in the bathroom and getting ready. Ben would be back soon, and she wanted to be prepared… although for what, now, she wasn’t quite sure.

The bathroom was decorated with the same old-world opulence, and there were more risqué prints upon the walls. The overpowering sense of decadence and sexual naughtiness made her tremble. She supposed it was something of a cliché to take a scented bath while waiting for her lover, but what was wrong with clichés when they were so delicious and the awaited lover as special as Ben Chambers?

Lolling in the silky water, she still couldn’t really believe he’d picked her out, even though they got on so well. He was relatively new to the company, some kind of elite troubleshooter brought in to turn around the division she worked in, and the moment she’d set eyes on him, she’d recognized his quiet but mysterious authority. And she’d wanted him.

And pretty soon she’d gotten him and become the envy of all her girlfriends.

Within days she and Ben had been dating and in bed shortly after. Yes, once again, she admitted that it
should
have been a perfect dream, but there was still sometimes that faint niggle of something crucial missing.

But she’d not really known what until that pat on the bottom.

Fool. How did it never occur to you? BDSM games aren’t exactly a secret anymore. Everybody talks about them!

Sipping the last of her champagne, she closed her eyes, emptied her brain, and let the scent, the heat, and the alcohol take over.

Hazy visions formed in her mind. Strange fantasies that she’d toyed with right at the edge of sleep, then shied away from, dismissing them. As too much…

She saw pictures of herself, naked. Sometimes kneeling down. Sometimes tied up. Sometimes, oh God, being punished. By a man.

She began to pant, imagining herself exposed, spread out, bared. Offered… for punishment.

By Ben.

Chapter Two

She imagined his hands, so long and elegant. So strong.

She knew he could make her whimper with pleasure… but could he also make her weep and moan with pain?

Would he put her across his lap and spank her? Would he put her in bondage? There’d been a pair of handcuffs amongst the sexual paraphernalia in the box.

Before she realized what was happening, she
did
moan. And putting aside her delicate glass, she reached down into the silky water to touch her sex.

She was ready. Ready for Ben.

But to do what exactly?

These were just fantasies. Wild, but kinky. Nothing real… not the actual thing.

Even so, she decided to go on touching herself, to go for the ultimate. But just as she was about to get into it, she heard the outer door to the bedroom open, then close.

Oh God, he’s back… and I’m still in here dreaming and just about to play with myself!

She didn’t call out, just in case it wasn’t him but a maid, come to turn down the bed. She did rise from the bath, though, and quickly went about her preparations. The complimentary toiletries were exclusive and high-end, so just before she was done in the bathroom she doused her pulse points in a beautiful perfume she’d never normally be able to afford, then bundled herself into a fluffy, toweling bathrobe.

Her clothes were outside. Where Ben was.

Her heart thud-a-thudding, she opened the bathroom door.

Ben was lying on the bed, fully clothed and reading a magazine. He had a glass in his hand that contained an inch of amber fluid she guessed was whisky, and as she entered, he put it to his lips and took a leisurely sip. His eyes were on her though, staring over the rim at her intently as he swallowed.

He looked like a young god idly perusing his lowly subject.

“I thought we’d take a late dinner,” he said casually, then took another sip of his drink. “Unless you’re hungry now?”

Only for you. Only for you.

“I… er… I’m fine. Thanks.”

The answer sounded woefully incomplete, as if there should have been more.

It was astonishing how easy it would have been to add the word “master.”

“Good!” he said with a strangely satisfied smile, then he finished his whisky, set the glass aside, and sprang lightly to his feet. “I think I’ll freshen up. I won’t be a moment.”

As he walked toward the bathroom, he paused and looked back pointedly at the magazine on the bed.

He wants me to read it.

Then, with another small, knowing smile, he disappeared, closing the door behind him with a decisive snick.