French Blue (18 page)

He gave a long sigh. “Wait here,” he said.

Against all her expectations and all her instincts, and every rational urge to say her safe word, laugh or walk away, Lisa did exactly as she’d been told.

Olivier was back in thirty seconds, but in the short time he’d been out of the room, Lisa had died a thousand deaths. She hadn’t dared move from the spot on the rug where she’d been told to wait, and had to endure Alex opposite her, calmly sipping his coffee while regarding her with an impassive curiosity as if she were some piece of street art or a toddler behaving badly in the street. Her palms grew clammy, her breathing was ragged as she fought back the urge to ask him if this was all prearranged.

She knew two words would end the scene right now, but she battened them down. She was going to be corrected in front of this man, this strikingly handsome, arrogant, austere stranger who would doubtless take great pleasure in seeing her soundly spanked and utterly humiliated.

That prospect, by any normal standards of behaviour, ought to fill her with horror, not make her panties wet and her body shiver with anticipation. As if to remind her how excited she was, her nipples prodded the cotton of her tank top, screaming
look at me, see what a wanton slut I am and how much I want to be fucked.

Alex
must
have noticed, and fierce heat instantly sprang to her cheeks. If she couldn’t stand him noticing her nipples, how would she cope with being spanked in front of him? And hadn’t Olivier said he was engaged? Surely, his partner would be furious if she knew he was here.

Unless she was involved too?

“You wouldn’t let this happen to your fiancée…” she said.

Momentarily, Lisa saw something—possibly doubt—flicker across Alex’s eyes, then he brushed an imaginary speck from his jeans and said, “You’re right, but my fiancée has learned to moderate her behaviour, so the situation wouldn’t arise.”

It was an outrageous statement that broke every rule in the book of twenty-first-century society, yet any reply died on Lisa’s lips. Alex’s intense gaze burned into her as if he was analysing every thought inside her head. Olivier had said he was a professor at Oxford. He really was serious.

“Lisa?”

Olivier reappeared in the door to the salon, and Lisa almost fainted.

Some kind of paralysing toxin had been injected into her veins, freezing her limbs and tongue and fixing her attention on the rod of rattan in his hand. It was over a metre long, the handle crooked and wicked, the slim barrel of wood smooth and shiny. Her correction had gone way beyond a spanking or even the paddle.

She was going to be caned.

Chapter Fourteen

The shock silenced every word and sucked her breath from her body. In her wildest dreams, she’d longed to be caned and for Olivier to discipline her in public, but nothing could ever have prepared her for the cunt-tingling, belly-swirling reality of it actually coming true. As for the method of correction, every foray onto the Internet or BDSM novels had attested to the burning sting of a cane stroke. She knew she wouldn’t be able to take it and that she’d fall to pieces in front of Alex, and yet her panties were soaked and her clit screaming for release. She wanted Olivier to take her into his room right now and fuck her.

Da Vinci.
The words that would whip her out of this dream hung on the tip of her tongue. She flashed an agonised glance at Alex, but he remained stomach-churningly unmoved, one arm thrown over the back of the sofa.

Olivier walked toward her and spoke regretfully. “I had hoped that this wouldn’t be necessary, but you’ve given me no choice.”

Any reply died in her throat.

Olivier spoke softly to her, almost tenderly. “Lisa? You know why this has to happen?”

“No! Yes, but… But…” Lisa’s voice was pleading. “Not the cane. Not here. Not with Alex watching, please.” Even as she said it, she knew she was pleading with herself. She wanted to face her fears and fulfil her fantasies, but did she dare?

“You’ve crossed a line. You knew what would happen if you disobeyed me and arrived late again. However, as Alex is present, you can keep your jeans on.”

“I can’t. You can’t do this.”

“Would you prefer it if I took you into my room and caned your bare bottom?”

“No!” She stole a look at Alex, who watched them, expressionless, and lowered her voice. “I don’t think I can cope with this. You didn’t say anything about…about
that
.”

He swished the cane through the air. “Yet you must have understood it was on the agenda. I can understand you’re not happy about this, and there’s no way of hiding the fact a caning isn’t pleasant, but if you’re refusing the correction, you know what to say to me and how to end this now. It really is your choice,
cherie
.”

Her choice. Yes, her choice of humiliation. Accept her punishment in front of Alex, or disappoint herself by chickening out.

Which would she choose?

She trembled.

“You can stop this if you want.”

“No.”

“Say it again. Do you choose the cane or your safe word?”

She barely whispered. “The cane.”

“Louder, so Alex can hear.”

“The cane!”

The word, awful and ridiculous, echoed round the room.

“Very well. Go into the bathroom, remove your bra and panties, put your top and jeans back on and come back here.”

Why did it matter that she took off her underwear? Was it so Alex would know? And that she knew he knew? So he would see she was aroused without her actually being naked in front of him? Just how preplanned was this?

Had he known she’d breach his rules and deliberately asked Alex round? Or was it just serendipity?

And how would she bear a real-life caning—not that she was going to take it, of course. This had to be a game of brinkmanship, of chicken. But who would flinch first? At the moment, she wanted to ride the whole thrilling roller coaster of excitement, fear and lust.

“I think you have something to say to me?”

Lisa hung her head, eyes fixed on the whorls in the Persian rug. Then the cane appeared at her waist and slowly travelled upwards until the cold metal tip pressed into the flesh under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. She trembled with desire, surrendering to the game.

“I just asked you to remove your underwear and then come back here in your jeans and tank top. Now, what do you have to say to me?”

She squeezed out the words. “Oui,
maître
.
Merci
,
maître
.”

“And to Alex?”

“I’m sorry I was late, Alex.”

He lifted her chin a little higher with the cane tip until her throat was stretched. “Show Alex the respect he’s due too.”

Lisa spoke to the ceiling. “I’m sorry I was late,
maître
.”

Alex’s voice came from below, stern and regretful in equal measure. “And I’m sorry for what’s about to happen to you, but I think Olivier is doing the right thing.”

Olivier lowered the cane and checked his watch. “You have ten minutes to prepare yourself and consider why you’re being corrected, and then present yourself back in the salon for your punishment. Time starts now.”

Chapter Fifteen

“So. Was this what you had in mind, Olivier?” Alex asked in French after Lisa had gone.

Alex sat on the sofa, arms crossed, a disapproving look on his face that made Olivier feel about twelve years old again and made him want to back-chat Alex even more. Talk about Lisa defying him; Olivier had kicked against authority almost from being in diapers.

“Pretty much,” he said.

Alex’s lips twisted doubtfully. “I’d glad to hear it, because I was about to cut and run at one point while you left me alone with Lisa. She looked at me like I was the devil crossed with Genghis Khan. You do realise that she thinks we’re really going to take this to the limit?”

“Aren’t we?”

Alex stood. “Depends what you mean by limit. Your definition might be different to mine, and have no doubt, if I think things are getting out of hand, I walk.”

Olivier patted his back. “Stop worrying. I know what I’m doing.”

In the bedroom, Lisa’s hands trembled as she peeled down her wet panties. She wanted to throw herself on the silk cover right now and masturbate or scream for Olivier to come in and put her out of her misery, but she knew he wouldn’t. She had to go through with the whole scenario, even if it meant she really would be thrashed.

She tugged her jeans back on over her thighs, the denim soft against her bare bottom. She was desperate to ease the throb in her clit by rubbing it against the seam but worried that her jeans would be damp too. She hadn’t dreamed she would be so aroused at the thought of being caned in front of an audience.

At the
thought
of it.

That was the important word. The
thought
—not the actual reality. She sank back onto the bed, still in her bra and jeans. She couldn’t go through with this. They wouldn’t go through with it.

She crept to the door that led out to the corridor, hoping to hear them laughing and chatting, but while she could hear them talking, it was all in bloody French, so fast it might as well have been ancient Greek. And Olivier would be waiting for her; time was ticking by.

She unhooked her bra and pulled on her tank top over her breasts again, knowing her aching nipples would give away her arousal. She wasn’t naked. Olivier hadn’t forced her into that situation, but she might just as well have been.

That sent a rush of arousal to her pussy, dampening the crotch of her jeans. When she bent over for her punishment, Olivier would be sure to notice.

Except Olivier wasn’t
actually
going to cane her, was he? And Alex would have left by that stage. Perhaps that was Olivier’s real plan, to work her up into a trembling frenzy of need and fear before he administered the correction in private?

She could take that—perhaps. Yes, that must be it. She listened again but couldn’t hear the voices now.

“She’s taking her time.” Olivier checked his watch as he poured Alex a glass of white from the fridge in the kitchenette at the end of the salon.

Alex cradled the glass in his fingers and leaned against the countertop. The idea was to look cool and casual when Lisa entered the salon.

“Does Lisa know what
she’s
doing? She’s fighting hard, really hard.”

“She can use the safe word.”

“But will she? Is she going along with this for you or me?”

Alex had a point, several in fact, and if he had to be brutally honest, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure he’d done the right thing. Lisa was very shocked, and there was worse to come. Or better, depending on how he—and Lisa—looked at things. He’d thought long and hard about this action, but it had seemed the best way of helping her to indulge her biggest fantasy—and face her biggest fear.

“Both, I imagine, and pleasing me is the same as pleasing herself. You know that’s how subs’ minds work.”

“I also know that generalising about subs’ minds is the way to disaster. You know full well that every woman is different, so don’t oversimplify.”

“Better than overcomplicating.”

“Fuck you,” said Alex pleasantly. “You haven’t known her more than a couple of months. It takes a lot longer than that to build up trust and really understand a sub’s needs.”

Olivier paused. “How long had you known Carla before you started a scene with her? A month? A week? I know how hard you resisted—about five minutes, and then you went and fell for her so hard you’re marrying her. I may not have known Lisa long, but I do know that this is what she’s feared and craved for a very long time,” he said eventually. “She
needs
this like she needs food and water.”

“Good, because I’m not entirely sure if what happens constitutes being unfaithful to Carla. If she’d been here, I’d have walked.”

“I wouldn’t have done it if Carla had been with you. I know you would never allow anyone else to see you discipline Carla.”

“You’re damn right, I wouldn’t. A, I’m not into sharing my private life with anyone else and B, she’d hit the roof and probably hit me.”

“Really? And who’s supposed to be the Dom in your relationship?”

Alex laughed softly. “Her, of course, out of the bedroom, definitely. But we’re engaged, and now I’ve found I intend to stay faithful to her forever, no matter how old-fashioned that sounds. As remote as the possibility may seem, that might happen to you one day. You might find a woman who you want to stay with for longer than the shelf life of a yoghurt.”

Olivier laughed dutifully and downed his espresso. The bitterness of the grounds made him wince. “That’s rubbish, and you know it.”

Alex cast him a stern look. “I thought you said the one thing Lisa asked you not to do was make any part of this arrangement public?”

“She did and I’m not.”

“So I don’t count?”

“I know what I’m doing, and your sensitive nature will doubtless be pleased to hear that I’m going to be extremely lenient, even though Lisa may not appreciate how lenient.”