‘Like you say, to do this acts is very emotional. It works for me and for you because we love each other.’
My heart swells. That word. And now he’s said it, yes, it’s out there and it can’t ever go back in.
‘I think I can’t do it to a girl I don’t love.’
‘You only hurt the one you love.’ The thought is ridiculously cheering. I find myself smiling again.
‘That seems a little bit mad, yes? But I feel it in my heart.’
‘Me too.’
It’s as if a loud, stormy movement of music has given way to peaceful harmony. We are back. We are lovers. We love each other.
‘So, Rosie,’ he says, after spending a moment clasping my hands in his.
‘Yes?’
‘You have a bad idea of me and you try to break up with me. I don’t think this is good.’
There is a particular tilt of his head, a particular look in his eye that hints at what is coming. I shiver and squirm in my seat, my throat suddenly dry.
‘I’m very sorry,’ I say softly, adding, even more quietly, ‘sir.’
He shakes his head. ‘Apology is good, but not good enough. And, how lucky, I have booked the dungeon. Come with me.’
Chapter Nine
I’m not dressed for it, not today.
If I hadn’t been full of the resolve to end things with Dimitri, I might have gone for a skirt, stockings, something he could flip up or tear off with the greatest of ease, but I am wearing jeans and a fleece-lined hoodie. Not appropriate dungeon-wear at all.
Somehow this skews my experience. I feel like a tourist stumbling on to a film set instead of a submissive. Or perhaps I’m still dazed from all the revelations. Either way, I can’t quite connect with my kink.
Dimitri, having walked me down the staircase with a hand on my shoulder, lets go of me to conduct a thorough search of the implement store.
‘What is best,’ he mutters under his breath, ‘for a girl who has no faith in her master?’
Her master. That does it. The hoodie and jeans melt away from my consciousness and I feel naked, small and ashamed. And very turned on.
‘What do you think, Rosie?’ he asks, twisting his neck to look over at me. ‘What do you deserve?’
‘Isn’t that your decision?’
‘Not today.’
What do I deserve? And what does he mean by this question? Is it just a BDSM-flavoured way of asking me what I want? Or does he actually want me to quantify the seriousness of my transgression? How bad is it – is it cane-bad or just flogger-bad? I know the answer before I finish the question.
‘The cane,’ I murmur. Today I want to feel it. I want the pain. I want the afterburn. I want to feel completely punished and completely owned and completely loved. I can’t say why, but I know that only the cane will do this for me today.
‘The cane? You are sure?’
He selects one from the cabinet – a long slender stick of rattan, curving at the end. He straightens up and whips it through the air. The sound makes me shiver and swoon together.
‘Don’t be scared,’ he says. ‘Well, yes, be scared if you want, but don’t be scared because I have no experience. I practise with this. I use a cushion. I am quite an expert now.’
He moves towards me like a musketeer with a duelling sword, pointing the cane at me until the tip of it reaches underneath my chin. He taps it gently, forcing my neck to tilt back and my eyes to reach up to his.
When I see how solemn, how serious he looks, I try to swallow. It takes a while.