Bonds of Love. Sarah K

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СКАЧАТЬ to the side of the road. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’

      I laughed and wiped away the tears. ‘You haven’t, I’m so sorry. I’m absolutely fine. I don’t know where that came from. It’s just me being stupid. I got myself emotionally mashed first time round when I did this. And yes, I do want to play, but we might need to take it slowly.’

      He handed me a tissue. ‘That’s okay. But you still have to ask me.’

      I nodded.

      ‘And while we’re together and while we play you will call me Sir from now on, although if, after this weekend, or even during this weekend, you feel as if you’ve made a mistake or it’s too much then that’s okay – no hard feelings, we can just cool it down or walk away. Okay?’

      I nodded. I understood. It was what I wanted and needed too. ‘Yes, Sir,’ I said.

      He smiled. ‘Now, ask me,’ he said.

      Ds (Dom-sub) relationships are no less passionate or emotionally intense than any other kind of relationship between two people, but there is usually, in my experience, far more negotiation, more discussion, before there is any sexual contact, which to those outside listening in can make it sound more like a transaction than attraction.

      Most of the Ds couples and singles I’ve talked to over the years don’t, as a rule, however fast they move from fancying to getting physical, just fall into bed with each other after a first drunken night out and have crazy drunken Ds sex. I’m not saying it doesn’t happen, just not with the people I’ve talked to. For one thing, it’s way too dangerous to play hard when you’re drunk.

      By the time a Dom and sub get to the point where they want to play with each other – play being the term used to describe a Ds scenario – they’ve talked about what they want, what they like and what they don’t like, which, let’s face it, isn’t the way most vanilla relationships go. From the outside it may sound colder, but in fact it’s fun; it builds trust, confidence and connections. Even if you are wildly attracted, in my experience the encounters – at least at the outset – are much more structured until you know your way around each other and what you like and don’t like.

      Lust, desire, love, passion: they are all there, but the way Ds couples negotiate their way through the beginning of their relationships is just a little different from what most people are used to.

      So, I was agreeing that, for this weekend, maybe longer, Alex would be my dominant man, a Dom, my Dom – the man who, when we were playing, could tell me what to do. By my acknowledging him in that role I was giving him permission to use and explore my body as he saw fit within the boundaries we had agreed. As his sub I would choose to submit to him. In many ways I would give myself to him. It is heady and powerful stuff.

      One thing I had learned early on from being with Max is that you can’t give what you don’t have. To be able to submit to someone you have to know who you are and be strong enough to let go.

      So, sitting in the TT on the side of the coast road a long, long way from home, I said: ‘Please, Sir. Can we play?’

      Alex smiled at me and nodded. ‘Yes, we can. I’ve been thinking about this since we met last weekend.’ The amusement was back in his eyes. ‘I’ve got such plans for you.’

Chapter Four

      Alex and I arrived at the hotel in the middle of the afternoon. It was in an old country house a few miles outside Whitby and was beyond fabulous. With the house set in a great stand of trees and tucked up among acres of rolling parkland, the hotel owners had managed to keep the feel of old-fashioned genteel splendour and faded glamour alongside twenty-first-century convenience.

      The entrance hall was like something from a movie set – The Great Gatsby or maybe something by Agatha Christie – with great sofas and fireplaces, crystal chandeliers and ornate side tables, and the centrepiece being a grand staircase that swept up from a black-and-white tiled floor to Lord only knew where. The reception desk was set discreetly to one side and staffed by a bevy of smiling, efficient young women in uniform.

      As Alex was booking us in a gaggle of wedding guests appeared from nowhere and practically mugged him with their sheer exuberance. It struck me that in some ways this was the perfect way to find out about anyone; there really is no hiding place at a family wedding, and any lingering concerns I might have had about Alex were rapidly snuffed out by the obvious delight the other wedding guests took in seeing him.

      There were several couples, single girls and small children and a couple of elderly grannies. Alex made the introductions, though the names came and went; this one was a long-lost friend of the family, this one a cousin from Australia, this someone’s best friend from childhood. It seemed that they were all heading into the sitting room for afternoon tea and they were very keen for us to join them.

      Alex smiled at me. ‘We’d love to but it’s been a really long drive, and Sarah and I need to get unpacked and settled in.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We’ve got a few things to do. We’re probably going to be tied up for an hour or two – maybe we could meet up for dinner?’

      The play on words wasn’t lost on me, nor was the look Alex gave me.

      As Alex said his farewells and made promises to meet up later, the porter took our bags and we headed up the impressive staircase into the main hotel.

      ‘Aren’t you taking a risk bringing someone you don’t know to something like this?’ I said, sotto voce. ‘I mean, I could be a real liability – mad or a drinker or anything.’

      ‘Are you?’ he asked.

      ‘Well, no, but –’

      Alex laughed. ‘I didn’t think so, and anyway it was a risk I was prepared to take. I wanted to spend some real time with you.’

      ‘Even if it meant me kicking off in front of the bride and groom?’

      Alex laughed and took my arm. ‘I think I can probably handle it.’

      Beyond the vast lobby and the first-floor landing the hotel was a complete rabbit warren. Within moments of getting upstairs I was not only lost, but totally disorientated – all the busy sounds from the reception area were completely deadened by miles of flock wallpaper and deep-pile carpets and the hallways were long, silent and stately. The walls were hung with magnificent paintings, there were fabulous flower arrangements and statuary in niches all along the walls and antique furniture that looked as if it had been there forever.

      ‘This way, sir, madam,’ said our guide, as after what seemed like a long hike he finally opened the doors to our room. The suite was in one corner of the hotel in a turret, with mullioned windows that overlooked a carefully manicured knot garden. There was a Jack and Jill bathroom between the two large airy bedrooms. The main room had a huge four-poster bed and antique furniture, while the smaller room had a queen-sized bed and looked like a typical boutique hotel room with cushions and throws and contemporary art. Both rooms were stylish and luxurious enough to pull off the contrast.

      As the man deposited our bags, Alex looked long and hard at the four-poster, and then at me, and raised his eyebrows in unspoken invitation as we both took in the very thing that had first sparked his fantasies. The porter left with a healthy tip.

      ‘Let’s СКАЧАТЬ