Captivated. Lisette Ashton

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      ‘It looks as if somebody needs something quite badly. Is that right?’

      I made an incoherent sound, biting on a tassel.

      ‘Answer me, Phoebe.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Get up on your knees and answer properly. I’m not underneath that cushion, am I?’

      Unwillingly, I made the effort to raise myself, not so easy without the use of my hands. My shame-stained face directed at him, I whispered, ‘Yes,’ again.

      ‘And what is it that you need? Tell me.’

      ‘I need to come.’

      ‘Why do you need to come, Phoebe?’

      ‘Because … I’m a bit … aroused.’

      ‘A bit aroused?’

      ‘Quite a lot aroused.’

      ‘I can tell. How did that happen, then? What aroused you?’

      His footsteps travelled the perimeter of the cage. I followed them with my ears, moving my neck in sympathy.

      ‘I think … I don’t know.’

      I lost my nerve at the last minute. I knew he wouldn’t stand for that.

      ‘You don’t know? How can you not know what turns you on?’

      ‘I do know. I don’t want to say.’

      ‘Well, you don’t have the choice. You have to tell me. Especially if you ever want those cuffs off. So?’

      ‘It was because of what you did to me.’

      ‘Oh.’ I could hear the weight of pleasure and triumph in his voice, even though I knew this wouldn’t be specific enough. ‘What I did to you. I see. And what was that?’

      ‘You …’ I stopped to heave a heavy sigh. He knew this was always the most difficult part of a scene for me. The naming of things. The speaking out loud of my innermost secrets.

      ‘I can see I’ll have to come in there,’ he said.

      ‘You hurt me.’

      ‘You like pain? So, if I twist your arm, that’ll turn you on?’

      ‘No.’ If my hands had been free, I would have wrung them.

      ‘What then?’

      ‘It was the way you did it.’

      ‘With my hands?’

      ‘Yes.’ His hands. Always so accurate in the distribution of pain and pleasure, or both together.

      ‘My hands where?’

      My fingers interlocked and I held them there, gripping tight.

      ‘On my bottom.’

      ‘Aha. Yes. And what’s that called, then, Phoebe? What’s it called when my hand makes sharp contact with your bottom?’

      I could say it now. Each exchange of words had laid the pathway and now I had the nerve to speak.

      ‘A spanking.’

      ‘Good girl.’ I could almost see his smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his white teeth. ‘And that’s what turned you on, is it?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Well, it’s not much of a punishment then, is it? Perhaps I’ll have to think of something else. But, now we’ve established what it was that made you want to treat the cushions so … inappropriately, we have another issue to address, don’t we?’

      ‘Do we?’

      ‘Oh yes. You see, I’m very pleased with you, Phoebe. I’m very pleased that I’ve got you here in this little cage, with me, where you belong. You seem to understand that now. You seem to have come round. Am I right?’

      ‘I … don’t know.’ I didn’t want to admit defeat yet.

      ‘Wait. I’m coming in there.’

      The keys, the door, the slam, the lock.

      Where was he? I tried to locate him by sound, then by smell, but I didn’t know where he was until he untied the blindfold, releasing me into blurred brightness.

      The cuffs came off next, but he held on to my wrists, massaging them. They were a little numb and I had pins and needles in my hands.

      ‘I think you’re going to behave yourself,’ he said, rubbing away. ‘I hope you will justify my trust, because, if you don’t, I’ll be very disappointed. And I don’t take disappointment well.’

      ‘Why am I here?’ I asked again.

      ‘Because I want you to be here.’

      I twisted my neck round, able to look at him now. He stopped the massage and put his hands on my shoulders, pushing his thumbs into the back of my neck.

      ‘So,’ he said, soft and low, ‘when you get spanked, you like it. How does it make you feel?’

      ‘Warm. Powerless. Safe. Tingly.’

      ‘So it’s partly what I do to you, and partly how you respond to that?’

      ‘I suppose. I feel like I’m programmed to respond in a certain way.’

      ‘You don’t get scared?’

      ‘Not really. Unless I think you’re never going to stop.’

      ‘Perhaps that’ll happen one day. Perhaps I just won’t stop.’

      He knew I liked a thrill of fear with my sex sometimes. I appreciated his attempt to bring it back.

      I bathed in the frisson, throwing back my head, nuzzling his neck.

      ‘The question is,’ he said, ‘what am I going to do with you? You get horny when I spank you and try to hump the décor. We can’t have that, can we?’

      ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘No, we can’t. I suppose I’ll have to service you, won’t I? Not that I mind. It was all part of the plan, after all. I’m just surprised you’ve been so quick and easy. Is that what you are, Phoebe? Easy?’

      I am for you.

      ‘No, of course not.’

      ‘But you want it, don’t you? You want me to show you what you’re here for.’

      There was no point denying it. I nodded.

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