Subculture (12 page)

‘Me? Loud?' Lisa laughed, then hiccupped a little bit, and started in on her sixth brimming glass.

‘As long as you follow protocol,' Michael Landers continued, coming round to her side to pull out her chair for her. ‘Otherwise you'll find that they're not the only ones who are strict.'

They drove through a surprisingly lively part of Malta to reach the casino. ‘This part of the island is known as St Julian's,' Michael Landers said. Lisa stared out at the cafes, bars and late night shops. She winced at the loud disco music blaring from each pub, but gazed entranced at the denim and leather-clad young holidaymakers. She'd show Michael that she wasn't stuffy, that she didn't have a care.

‘Looks like a girl could have a fun time here,' she murmured, casting him a sideways glance. ‘I must come back here on my own some day.'

‘I suppose if you want to slum it,' he answered tightly. Lisa stared drunkenly at the youthful male bottoms and muscled torsos. At the moment she just wanted to get laid.

They parked. She walked shakily up the steps to the Casino. Michael signed her in. ‘Have a nice evening, Dr Landers,' the doorman said deferentially.

Michael put his right hand on Lisa's elbow. ‘I hope to,' he murmured in her ear as she swayed.

‘Me too,' Lisa said light-headedly. She was suddenly conscious of each erotic pathway in her bare arm. Was it his nearness that was making her feel so dazed, making it difficult to think? They walked into the huge blue gaming hall. Lisa looked around it then made her way towards a second doorway. ‘Oh good,' she said, belatedly aware that her voice sounded excitedly high and childish. ‘A Cocktail Lounge.'

‘Don't you think you had enough to drink at dinner?' Michael Landers asked, coming to stand by her side and again taking her elbow.

‘Obviously not, or I wouldn't be going up to the bar right now,' Lisa answered snappishly. Who the hell did Michael Landers think he was - her minder? She wasn't some weak-willed alcoholic about to fall off the wagon, for goodness sake. Lisa glared at her boss then squinted at the drinks list for long moments. ‘Um, bartender, I'll have a Velvet Hammer, please,' she said. Velvet Hammer. The words sounded vaguely obscene and arousing as she rolled them across her tongue.

‘Make mine a non-alcoholic wine,' Michael said. ‘I gave Achille the night off, so I'm driving.' He listened to the man's query. ‘Yes, he and his wife are fine.'

‘I met his wife today - she looked happy,' Lisa cut in breezily, then she hiccupped again.

‘They have the ideal relationship,' the doctor murmured in her ear. ‘He's her master at night and she's in charge during the day.'

Lisa felt the spread of heat to her face and rush of lust to her clit at his unsubtle inference. Suddenly she needed that drink.

The bartender brought a white frothy cocktail over to her on a tray. It tasted refreshingly cool. It went down quickly. Lisa waved the drinks list at a passing waiter. ‘I'll have a Pink Blossom this time.' She turned to Michael. ‘It says it's got grenadine, cream, Benedictine and Malibu. Can't be bad.'

‘Does it really?' Michael's jaw tightened. ‘I thought you rarely drank.'

‘Hell, it's a gaming parlour. Why not bet that I can hold down six of these?' Lisa said in her most provocative voice. She fixed her grey green eyes challengingly on his equally unflinching hazel ones, then felt slightly disappointed when he shook his head and got into conversation with the man next to him. After finishing the Pink Blossom and ordering and drinking a Tequila Sunrise, she tugged at his sleeve. ‘Mike - let's play a game.'

Most of the tables were occupied. They walked past each till they found two unoccupied chairs, two spare places for players. Lisa gazed dazedly around at the sumptuous blue furniture, blue carpet and blue ceiling. ‘Matches my dress,' she said giddily.

‘Sssh,' Michael murmured. She watched his long fingers curl into his hard large palms.

Going to spank me? she thought, and felt new heat rush to the curve between her stockinged legs.

Michael bought her a high stack of gaming chips. Lisa reached out but her fingers felt thicker and more numbed than usual, so that she dropped several of the disks onto the carpet. ‘Just do what I do,' Michael said tightly, picking up the chips.

‘What about when it comes to urinating?' Lisa giggled. The croupier stared at her expressionlessly. Was he yet another cane-wielding dominant man? She looked slowly around. Why weren't there any female croupiers in charge of the tables? She'd soon show them that women were equal to men. The chandelier lights seemed to blur together as she followed Michael's lead and accepted a card.

‘Look for sequences with lots of high or low cards going out so that you can assess what's left,' he instructed softly.

‘Maybe if I ask the croupier especially nicely he'll just tell me,' Lisa said. She leaned closer to the card-dealer so that her low cut dress showed more of her deep dark cleavage. The man stared for a second then looked just as quickly away.

‘Got this down to a fine art, Mike, have you?' she asked, giving Michael Landers a wink.

The doctor shrugged lightly. ‘Well, I've studied the law of large numbers.'

‘Mm, I'm very partial to a large number myself,' Lisa said. Part of her was monitoring her own words, was appalled by their crassness. The other part just thought what the hell.

‘I've just thought of a large number of my own. It involves your bare bum and a cane,' Michael said into her ear. The room seemed to still. Lisa could hear her own accelerating heartbeat. A public caning? Even he wouldn't dare.

‘Stay there,' Michael ordered. Legs weak with desire, she remained in her seat, staring at the gaming table. Did the croupier know what Dr Landers had just said to her, what he'd threatened to do? She shifted uneasily on her bum, and wished that she'd worn thicker panties. Wished that she hadn't been quite so loud.

Ten minutes later, he returned. ‘Come with me,' he said firmly, gripping the top part of her arm.

‘And if I don't?' She looked challengingly up into his strong sure features.

‘If you don't,' he continued easily, ‘I'll bare your bottom here in front of all these strangers and they can watch you begging for mercy as I use my cane.'

‘You wouldn't,' Lisa muttered. Then she flinched as he reached for the knee-length hem of her velvet dress. ‘Alright,' she added gutturally, ‘where are you taking me?'

‘To the Salle Prive - that's private salon to you. It's for personal functions.' He tightened his grip until she got to her feet and stood, swaying. ‘You, me and my trusty punisher are going to have a little party of our own.'

‘You wish,' Lisa countered. Her voice sounded unsteady and thick. Her thighs had turned liquid. She felt her labial leaves tingle and swell. She had to put up a fight, she told herself. She had to show this man she wasn't a pushover. But even as her mind searched for insults she allowed herself to be led through the main hall of the casino towards yet another door.

It led into a large empty suite. One of the ornate tables already held a slender rattan with an ornate curved handle. Silently, the doctor pointed to it.

‘You brought it with you?' the herbalist said, trying to force scorn rather than lust into her voice. ‘Christ, you're presumptuous.'

‘I always keep a cane in the boot of the car. One never knows when one may need to use it on a disobedient arse.'

‘Doesn't one?' Lisa sneered. ‘Well, one's not using it now.'

‘You'd rather leave my employ?' Dr Landers asked. He sounded surprised.

‘No, I like...' Love working at Vitality, love Malta she acknowledged to herself.

‘Then surely its better to submit to a thrashing?' her impassive boss queried as they faced each other in the centre of the room.

‘Couldn't you just fine me?' Lisa shot back. She had a feeling that she'd used the line before, but her brain felt fogged with wanting. She was getting off on the thought of being caned, even if she didn't want to experience the actual pain.

‘I find a short sharp shock to the seat is much more effective,' Michael Landers answered. Lisa blushed. Resolutely she turned away from the long slender punisher. ‘You may as well get accustomed to it,' her employer continued. ‘It's about to connect ten times with your naked arse.'

‘Ten strokes?' Lisa echoed through a drink-induced haze.

‘That sounds fair, doesn't it?' Michael Landers parried. ‘I mean, by being drunk you've lowered my reputation here. You have to pay.'

Lisa's face and female parts heated some more. She was determined to hide her arousal.

‘But the cane really hurts,' she said, meaning it.

‘You've had your bum warmed by it before?' the doctor asked.

Damn. She'd have to be more careful about what she said to this bastard. ‘No, I watched you cane Jamilla,' she admitted reluctantly.

Her boss nodded. ‘Then I'd have thought you'd have tried harder to avoid a similar sore arse.' He indicated the table. ‘But as you haven't, you'd better get your belly over there and accept what's due to you.'

Lisa stared at the dining area then at the slender rage of the rattan. Trepidation rippled through her. She cleared her throat and forced herself to make eye contact. ‘But what if someone comes in?'

‘It's unlikely. I've told them we want a quiet meeting in here with supper served in two hours time.'

Lisa looked automatically at her watch. Surely he wasn't going to chastise her for two whole hours? Maybe he planned to make love to her after she'd been thrashed. She was so hot of crotch and nipple and belly she'd probably submit.

‘Can't take two hours to dole out ten cane strokes,' she muttered truculently.

‘No, that's allowing time for extra punishment in case you're rude or forget to count each stripe,' her employer answered. He started to unknot his tie. ‘Do you want your wrists tied in front of you or behind your back?' he asked conversationally.

Neither, Lisa thought, feeling hugely conscious of her tender hemispheres. Suddenly she wanted to protect them with both hands and run far away. But she'd agreed to accept this caning in return for remaining on Malta, so she had to obey.

‘Do what you like,' she said with a last show of defiance.

‘Oh, I intend to,' her employer said, picking up the long slim rod. He ran it through his fingers, then set it down and took hold of her slender wrists. ‘We'll tie them in front, I think. After all, we don't want to pain your arms - just your bottom.'

‘You're so charitable,' Lisa countered watching him remove the raw silk tie.

‘Believe me, when your pants are at your ankles you'll be glad of every scrap of leniency,' Michael Landers answered. He looped the silken bond around her extremities three times and firmly knotted the material in place. Then he patted his suit pocket. ‘I've got nail scissors here to cut you free if your arms start to cramp.'

‘My, haven't You thought of everything,' Lisa sneered, flexing her newly bound limbs the little she could in their bondage, and wishing that he'd bend her over quickly so that she no longer had to face that impassive stare.

‘If one of us is going to get drunk and disorderly, then the other has to take charge of the situation,' the surgeon said.

‘And don't you just love playing the Lord of the Manor?' the herbalist continued baitingly. She'd give him a run for his money yet.

Michael tilted her chin with his fingers. ‘If playing the Lord means thrashing some sense into your spoilt young bottom, then yes, I do.'

‘Oh, fuck off,' Lisa muttered, turning her face away.

‘I think I'd rather lift up your dress and pull your panties down instead,' her boss replied, reaching for her hemline. At the same time she felt his right hand on her shoulder, turning her towards the table and pushing her gently down, down, down. As if in a dream, Lisa let her bound arms fall forward and let her head rest in the space between.

‘Right, let's have a look at the area we'll be caning,' she heard her boss say. Felt the midnight blue velvet being pushed up, acknowledged the shift of air currents against her thigh tops above the stockings. Whimpered with lust and humiliation as he started to edge down her protective briefs. What if a silver service maid walked in to set one of the tables? What if a wine waiter appeared?

Lisa shivered apprehensively as Michael Landers continued to drag her panties over her newly-raised bum. She felt them slither to her ankles. She was still wearing her black patent high heeled shoes, so her thighs and buttocks felt extra taut.

‘Your arse makes such a pretty picture,' the doctor said, and she sensed that he'd stepped back to admire her exposed raised rotundities. ‘It's a pity that your demeanour has been so ugly tonight.'

‘I'm sorry. Okay?' Lisa forced out. Now that she was about to flinch below the cane she was indeed very sorry. Fantasizing about being thrashed was one thing. The reality was something else.