The Velvet Caress Read online

  Reining in the grin that wanted to leave my lips, I did as instructed. Following her clicking heels was no easy task, either. How she managed to move so fast in them was beyond me, but somehow I managed to keep up. When we reached the drawing room I was almost relieved.

  'Sit.'

  It had been a long time since someone had ordered me around like this and I found it most entertaining that I was enjoying myself.

  'Sitting,' I commented, knowing I was pushing my luck but unable to help myself.

  'Don't test me,' she said, her tongue in her cheek as she settled down in a red leather wing-backed chair. It must have been Italian in origin, because the thing looked more like a throne. How fitting.

  Sophia made a great show of pouring the tea from an exquisite, turn of the century Limoges bone china tea set. When she picked up the milk jug she looked at me enquiringly, and I shook my head. Then the cup and saucer were very gently set down in front of me. As soon as I picked up the pretty white cup with flowers festooned all over it my manhood was effortlessly whipped away, but that was the whole point of the evening, wasn't it?

  'Earl Grey?' The flavour was distinctive and the smell fragrant.

  'Yes, but let's not talk tea,' she said. 'Why are you here?'

  'I thought we'd already covered that,' I said. 'I'm here for a session.' I knew I was never going to get away with that for an answer, but it was worth a try. Taking a sip from my ridiculous teacup I grudgingly admitted to myself that the tea was quite nice.

  'I know what you're here for, the question is: why after all these years have you suddenly decided you want to submit again?' Her delightfully posh English accent was music to my ears. I was looking forward to hearing more of it, preferably at top volume, if I was lucky.

  'I didn't know I had decided that,' I said truthfully. Was I here to submit? No, I didn't think so. I was here for something else entirely.

  Sophia gave me a dark look. 'You want pain, don't you?' She sighed prettily and took a dainty sip from her cup.

  'So?' I countered 'You like giving out pain.' I wasn't going to get away with that either.

  She let out a giant huff of air, and her reaction was almost comical. 'I do, but it's not half as fun when someone actually wants it.' She waved her hand in the air to add a touch of drama.

  'What if I promise to make it fun for you, Sophia? I don't think I've let you down on that score before, have I?'

  She looked thoughtful for a moment and then pursed her lips. I knew she was trying desperately hard to find an example of where I had been tiresome, and sure enough her next words were, 'Remember that time where you…'

  'I had the flu, Sophia. It's hard to make things fun when you have the flu.'

  'But you didn't tell me…'

  'I did. You just chose not to listen.' We'd been very wrapped up in each other back then and I would have done anything for her. That including serving her when I was so ill I could barely move.

  She pouted and mewled prettily. 'I should tell you to go home. You're in no fit state to serve. There's only one reason you want to suffer under my hands, and I should tell you that it won't make you feel any better, nor will it bring your wife back.' She said the word 'wife' as if it was an anathema to her.

  'And I still want to go ahead with it, even though we've put all those cards on the table. So what's it to be, Sophia? Are we going to play or are you going to pat me on the head and send me on my way?' Taking a final slug of my tea I set the cup down and waited patiently for her answer. The hairs on the back of my neck were already beginning to prickle, so I knew I wanted to go ahead with this, and unless I was much mistaken, she did too. I was about to find out.

  Sophia crossed her legs, and then she uncrossed them. She placed her chin upon her hand, and then she traced the outline of her top lip. Although she might have been several years my senior she was still a very attractive woman. There was every chance she might say no to me as yet, but I hadn't released my ace in the pack. The thing with Sophia was that she relished a challenge. If she had something to aim for, she was always the biggest achiever in the room. I was now about to make things slightly more entertaining for her, but I made her wait first. It was only fair. When she'd fidgeted for a good few seconds I dropped my bombshell.

  'Oh, did I mention there will be no sex? I just want to be dominated.'

  Her jaw dropped from the top end of the Empire State building to the bottom. There was a long pause, where she tried to get her head around that. It took a while.

  'Can you repeat that?' she finally managed to splutter.

  'Certainly.' I sat forward in my chair and clasped my hands together firmly. 'I do not want to have sex. The term is non-negotiable.'

  Sophia's tongue snaked out and slid along her lower lip as she considered this. I knew the 'no sex' rule wouldn't bother her personally. The amount of times she'd left me in an agonising state of arousal were too many to count. It was one of the perks of being in charge. What was going to turn her on was the fact that she could torment me immeasurably as she tried to get me to change my mind.

  'You're one of the biggest sex addicts I know, Matthews. There is no way you'll finish a session with me without begging to have your cock attended to.' A bright pink nail reached up to trace a path around her lips and she then sucked the finger into her mouth, before releasing it with a loud pop. I blinked.

  'Ten thousand pounds says your wrong.' I smiled. Now I knew I had her.

  'Fifty thousand pounds says I'm right,' she purred. The look in her eyes was now predatory and I knew I was in for one hell of a ride. Still, that was what I had come here for, so it looked like we were on.

  'Deal,' I replied.

  'Oh, Mark,' she drawled, 'you have no idea how much fun I'm going to have with you this evening.'

  She was right, I didn't, but I could form a good enough guess.

  Thirty minutes later we'd agreed on my limits for the scene and the next steps I would be taking. I'd refused to agree to a couple of things, which Sophia hadn't liked, but she wasn't going to have things all her own way; mostly, perhaps, but not all. I'd only made two requests of her, and they were simply that I be allowed to telephone the hospital before we began and leave my cell on for the duration of our session. After I'd voiced my conditions she looked at me sideways, told me she wasn't a complete monster, and that she'd leave me to my own devices for now. I was to go down to the dungeon when I felt ready. Then she rose elegantly from her chair and flounced out of the impressive set of panelled oak doors, but just before she'd closed them she turned around to face me and sighed.

  'Are you sure you want to do this, Mark? Although it pains me to say this, maybe you should take a night to think about what you're doing, and call me again in the morning.' Her eyes saw straight through me, and I knew she had an idea of what I was going through. Sophia was very much an empath. She fed off other people's emotions, both good and bad, and could read them very well. She was also someone who could never relinquish control. It was a shame. It kept her from meeting the right man. Whilst she adored a submissive in the bedroom, she also wanted someone she could spar with on occasion. The two didn't usually go hand in hand. I genuinely hoped she'd find someone special soon. She certainly deserved to.

  'It's now or never,' I said, and I meant it.

  She shook her head and closed the doors quietly behind her. I could almost see her rolling her eyes at my stubbornness. When the room had been plunged into silence for a couple of minutes I roused myself into action. Picking up my cell I dialled the hospital again.

  'Hello, my name is Mark Matthews. I'm ringing to check on my wife's progress - Jennifer Matthews.' I literally held my breath while someone went off to check for me, but as I suspected there was no further news waiting for me. Another 'I'm sorry, but we'll call you as soon as anything changes,' was relayed, and I had to be content with that. Tomorrow was another day. I'd be back with my wife, first thing tomorrow morning, come what may. I might even manage to catch a couple of hours
sleep if I was very lucky, although I thought that was being overly optimistic.

  Trying to mentally prepare myself for what was to come, I began to undress. She would want me completely naked, and that was as good a way as any to get my head in the game. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the hem of my sweater and yanked it over my head.

  Chapter Seven - Mark

  Pain. I wanted pain. In fact, I wanted so much pain it would enable me to forget everything that had happened around me, and leave me to wallow in nothing but suffering and sensation. Throwing my sweater on the gilt-edged, velvet-upholstered chair I'd been sitting in, I set to work on everything else. There was no rush, so I took it slow. Sophia would now be in her dressing room, choosing one of her many outfits with which to infer terror or lust, sometimes both. It would be at least an hour before she got herself ready, so that left me plenty of time to get myself fully acquainted with her dungeon. I hoped she hadn't got too many new toys since the last time I'd been here. It wouldn't take me long to find out.

  As my sweater fell to the floor my hands were already working on my belt buckle. Everything seemed to slide from body slowly, almost as if someone were doing it for me. If only. When my slacks had slid down my legs I hooked my thumbs inside my boxer shorts and removed those too. Now there was nothing to hide behind, and that was just the way I wanted it. I needed raw emotion, skin on skin contact, and a taste of something brutal. The dominant male had left the building, and all that remained was a shell of the man I once was. Would I always feel like this? I hoped not.

  As soon as I was naked I felt adrenaline begin to flood my body. I'd have thought I would have exhausted my poor adrenal glands as of late, but apparently that was not the case. My body was already gearing for fight or flight mode, and I wasn't flying anywhere. I would fight, as I always had. Putting one foot in front of the other I pulled open the doors and walked slowly towards my downfall. My head was still a mess, my pulse rate was accelerating, and I knew that things would get worse before they got better. That was part and parcel of the package. Padding down the long startlingly white hallway, adorned with various palm trees, frescos and murals, I kept my head high and I walked tall. Now was probably not the time to wonder if I'd keep my shit together, but I thought I could pull it off. Somehow.

  Before I was more than halfway down the hall a member of her staff came scurrying the other way. I politely tipped my head in his direction and carried on. Whilst the poor guy had probably gotten an eyeful, it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before. This was an old trick of Sophia's. She loved humiliating her 'slaves'. Unfortunately for her I wasn't in the mood to be humiliated, and she'd have to try a lot harder than that to get a reaction from me, but she'd figure that out soon enough.

  The dungeon was set down in the bowels of the earth, exactly where it should be. Gripping the bannister of the wooden spiral staircase the journey down seemed to take forever, but this was probably due to my anticipation, or perhaps trepidation, of what was to come. The further downwards I travelled the darker it became, and I found it matched my mood perfectly. I wouldn't mind being lost in the darkness for a while. There were worse places to be.

  Pushing the solid oak door open I stepped into something that could have resembled a medieval torture chamber. There were thick pillar candles encased in ornate glass lanterns that scattered ambient light upon the terracotta tiles below. There were also a few iron sconces that decorated the walls, with tapered cream candles. Their scent was thick, cloying and spicy. Cinnamon, orange, and… it was something I couldn't lay my finger on. The smell was vaguely redolent of Christmas, but I was pretty confident I would not be celebrating any time soon. The walls all around me were bare red brick, and the ceiling was adorned with several old oak beams, stained a dark brown in colour. A mere sliver of light appeared through three narrow, rectangular, leaded windows embedded into the top of the high ceiling, all of which had been heavily tinted. I would just about be able to tell whether it was day or night, if I paid very careful attention.

  The furniture was of a standard dungeon-grade edition, which meant it was made of wipe clean black leather or metal. The cast iron slatted table in front of me looked rather intimidating, coupled with a set of matching wrist and ankle cuffs, but it wasn't anything I hadn't seen before. Then there were clamps, vices, a whipping post, a pillory, an X-frame, a bell cage and all the standard stuff you'd expect to see in a well-equipped dungeon. No expense had been spared, and it was pretty much exactly as I remembered it. No whips or paddles were on display, nor had I expected them to be. Sophia kept them hidden in a large wooden chest that was almost the focal point of the room, with its large cast iron shackle. She always made you face that box, so you could watch as she picked out her instrument of torture. Sophia took her games very seriously.

  Setting my cell carefully down on the floor beside the door, checking one last time to make sure I hadn't received any messages in the two minutes it had taken me to walk here, I began to get my head around submission once more. I wished I could say I'd forgotten the rules since the last time I'd been here, but that would have been a lie. There were some things you never forgot, especially if you'd learnt them at the tail of a very large whip.

  The first thing I would need to do would be to assume the position. Whilst I didn't exactly intend to play fair, the least I could do was show willing. I was the one that wanted this, after all. So, getting down to my knees, I bent my body forward until my nose was touching the floor. Widening my legs a little, I lifted my ass into the air and stretched both hands out in front of me, palms flat, facing the floor. I had already made sure I was facing the door, as that had always been a requirement of Sophia's. Upon her entrance I would be required to kneel up and bow my head, before returning to my original position. Then all I had to do was wait for her instructions. They would be many and varied, unless I was much mistaken. As this was a one-off deal she would have just a single night to get her own back for me leaving her behind all those years ago. What the hell had I let myself in for?

  Although she made me wait I enjoyed the peace and quiet. It gave me a little time to prioritise the thoughts inside my head and figure out what I would do as soon as tomorrow dawned. There were already plenty of questions floating through my mind. Had Forbes started work on Marianna, did Khalil know where Redcliff was hiding, and was there a chance Jen might wake up or was I being too optimistic? They weren't the only questions. How long would it be before the police came calling again? Could Jonathan somehow manage to stop me getting arrested for my wife's attempted murder? And should I increase my security detail? All of these and more were boring holes in my head. Please hurry, Sophia, I pleaded. I couldn't remember another night under her hand where I was so anxious to begin a session, but tonight was most definitely an exception. My head was shortly going to explode if someone didn't take pity on me. Then I laughed to myself. The thought of Sophia 'taking pity' on me nearly had me in hysterics, but the laughter bubbling up my throat quickly had to be shelved. The sound of spike heels tapping against tiles could clearly be heard coming towards the door, and they were coming my way. God help me.

  Chapter Eight - Mark

  The door opened quietly and in my sights there could have been the body of a twenty year old. Sophia's slim curves were cloaked tightly in red and black latex and she looked fucking fantastic. She sported thigh-high black boots, red latex suspenders, a waist-cinching black corset with red trim, black panties, and red latex gloves that reached past her elbow. I wanted to lick her boots. I suspected I would be shortly, too.

  Getting to my knees, I placed my hands behind my back and bowed my head to my chest. As I was about to return to my original position I found a crop stuck underneath my chin that prevented me from doing so.

  'It's good to see you remember a few of my instructions,' she said softly.

  I resisted the urge to smile or reply. Either would get me whipped. Wait a minute, wasn't that why I was here?

  'Does this mean you're going to be
a good boy for me today?' she purred. The crop stroked a firm line up my neck before it buried itself in my cheek. I think it was fair to say that it ticked me off a little.

  'I fucking doubt it,' I replied. Like I said, I wanted my hide to get tanned, so there was no point beating about the bush, was there?

  The crop slammed into my thigh, hard enough to produce a wince, had I not been expecting it.

  'Thank you, Mistress,' I said, embracing the sweet kiss of pain. It wasn't nearly enough, but it was a start.

  'You do realise I know that's exactly what you want?' Walking behind me she grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head upright. It appeared I was already annoying her, so I was right on track.

  'Since when have I ever underestimated you, Sophia?' The low murmur could barely be heard, but it earned yet another stroke of her crop, this time on my left buttock. It burned.

  'Silence! If I want you to speak I'll let you know.' The crop pressed into my shoulder blades as a warning and I heeded it, for now. 'Nose back to the floor,' she barked, highlighting her point with another vicious swipe of the crop on my backside. I did as instructed, and although the action might have been reluctant on my part you'd never guess.

  'Crawl to the pillory, and place your head and hands in the correct position.' The heel of her boot caught my little toe and crushed it, nearly bringing tears to my eyes, but not quite. This was the Sophia I remembered and adored. My Mistress without an ounce of compassion was back. She'd been scaring me earlier, with her sympathetic comments, but thankfully that lady had left the building.

  Blinking, I tried to get my head back in the game. Sophia preferred her slaves to crawl with their noses a centimetre or so off the floor, so that's what I did. It was awkward and you couldn't see a damn thing, but you generally got where you needed to go. Encouragement was usually provided in the shape of pain, and as usual, she didn't disappoint.

  A five-inch spike heel found its way to the centre of my right buttock and pushed forward sharply. With the pressure she'd exerted I almost wondered if she'd let all the air out of my body, but everything still seemed to work as it should, although a damn site quicker. I didn't intend to let her get another shot if I could help it.