Her World of Submission

‘He’s fine with the idea of body doubles for us. So in the kinky scenes, your head and face will be there but the body will belong to another woman. And the same for me, as the man.’

‘Body doubles? So … we won’t actually be doing the naughty stuff on camera?’

‘Oh, we will. But when we get into the editing suite we’ll swap our body parts for somebody else’s. We have to do the scenes, Sarah,’ he added quickly, ‘or the facial expressions and noises won’t be right.’

‘You dub the sound over it anyway,’ I protested.

‘Some of it. Come on. The world will see no more than your face and a bare arm and foot or so. That has to be good enough, right?’

I put down a length of tinsel and sat on the stairs, my chin in my hands.

‘I don’t know. This is too weird for me. It’s a long way out of my comfort zone.’

‘I know. That’s why you’re considering it.’ He winked at me.

I flapped my hands at him.

‘Come on, Sarah. You hate your comfort zone. You’re never there. You’re like the absentee landlord of the place.’

‘That’s not true,’ I countered. ‘Just because I do all sorts of things I’d never have countenanced with anyone else – with you. It’s because of you. You’re my comfort zone, because I trust you.’

‘There.’ His eyes lit; I’d signed myself up. ‘You said it. And you’ll be with me. I’ll direct you. You can take direction, can’t you?’

‘You know I can. It’s just … this isn’t private any more. I’m not sure …’

‘Listen, darling, you don’t have to give me a yes or no answer right this minute. Nothing will get done until after Christmas and New Year now anyway. We’ve got that long to mull it over.’

‘I like a bit of mulling,’ I said. ‘But I usually prefer it when wine’s involved.’

‘That’s a good thought,’ he said, sitting down beside me and taking my hand. He spread out my clenched fingers, one by one, in his palm. I sighed into the gesture, always seduced anew by his touch. ‘We’ll make some mulled wine tonight. And I’ve promised Jim I’ll source the potential body doubles, so I’ll sort that out this afternoon. Once this tree is decorated.’

‘Where do body doubles come from? Is there an agency?’

‘Well, no, I rather thought I’d call a friend.’

‘What friend?’

‘A friend on the club scene. BDSM club scene, that is. They’ll be able to point me in the right direction.’

‘I see. Will they be actors? I mean, the one doubling for me might be called upon …’

‘No, she won’t,’ said Jasper firmly. ‘It’s a condition of the financing that you play opposite me. Otherwise this film will never find a studio.’

‘They just want to market it on the back of that tawdry newspaper story,’ I said in disgust.

‘Yes. Yes, they do. And that’s the way of the world, I’m afraid, my love, and if it gets me my backing then I have to go along with it.’

‘This project really means so much to you?’

‘Let’s say it’s been on my mind for years and years but I never thought anyone would go near it …’ He picked up the tinsel. ‘Can you use tinsel in bondage, I wonder?’

‘Uncomfortable,’ I surmised. ‘Horribly prickly.’

‘That sounds quite good.’

He wound the end of it around my wrist and tethered it to the banister.

‘There. You sit there and mull and I’ll finish the tree. If you need to use the bathroom, you’ll have to ask permission.’

I could easily untie myself, using my other hand, but I was happy enough to sit there and do as I was told. I was tired and my head swam with the enormity of this news.

The entire course of my life could change, the moment I made my decision. If I took this role, it was unlikely that I’d be able to continue with my job at the museum – not that that job was the be-all and end-all, but it was a step on the path I’d laid down for myself at sixteen, when I made my A-Level choices. And I loved history and heritage; had dreamed for years of working in a similar role.

Could I really throw it all up to play a kinky Victorian maid with a spanking stunt double?

It was the same question all over again, the one that kept rearing its head nowadays.

How much was I prepared to give up for Jasper?

I watched him as he pondered over which ornament to place where, making an art of it, as he did with everything. Such fastidiousness, such attention to detail. It was what made him such an amazing lover, such an amazing dom. Nothing was left to chance. Everything was deliberate and planned.

To be honest, I hadn’t yet had to give up anything much for him. Only a crap flat, in order to move in to his exquisite home. Not much of a sacrifice, on the face of it. But then, there were little things that perhaps I’d let go of too easily. I’d failed to cultivate friendships with the museum staff after moving in with Jasper, allowing them to wither on the vine instead. And I really needed to call some of my university friends. I had changed my phone number after the big press incident, and hadn’t got round to telling people what it was now.

I should do it. I should have sent Christmas cards. I should have done a hundred things that got forgotten about because I was far too busy having mind-blowing, body-wracking sex.

And I’d been nervous of contacting them as well. Nervous of what they might think of Jasper, of what advice they might give me. I could face censure, I could face hostility even, but I didn’t think I could face their disappointment in me.

But then, perhaps they would approve. Perhaps they would think it none of their business, or wish me luck with it and hope we might be happy. To cut myself off from all other relationships over fear of a bit of disapproval seemed silly now, especially in this season, when half the world was turning to friends and family in celebration.

I watched Jasper place a star at the top of the tree, having had to climb on a stepstool and tiptoe in order to reach that high.

‘We put an angel at the top of ours,’ I told him.

‘Controversial,’ he said, twisting his neck to raise an eyebrow in my direction.

‘Not really. Because it’s right.’

‘Did you mean for that to sound like fighting talk?’

I shifted on the stair, trying to decide if my bottom was still sore. It wasn’t, not really. Other parts of me, though, were not in such acceptable condition. Probably best not to start a verbal sparring match just now. The angel/star debate could keep.

‘Of course not,’ I said, prim and proper as I could be. ‘’Tis the season to be jolly, after all.’

‘Fa la la la la, la la la la,’ sang Jasper. He had a good singing voice too. He had good everything. It really wasn’t fair.

‘On that subject, I’m thinking of getting back in touch with some friends,’ I told him.

He stepped down from the stool and came to sit beside me on the stairs.

‘Go for it,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think you had any. You’ve never mentioned anyone. Bit strange, I thought, but I didn’t like to ask.’

‘I just … got out of the habit of being social, I suppose. When it was just you and me, here, over the summer, I forgot that anyone or anything else existed.’

‘Mm, so did I,’ he said with a dreamy smile. ‘Bloody wonderful, wasn’t it?’

‘Well, it still is, I hope. And it still can be, even with the outside world mixed in.’

‘Of course.’ He reached over and untied the tinsel from the banister. ‘As long as we’re in the middle of it, together.’

‘Right.’

He took my freed wrist and kissed the inside of it, a gesture that always unleashed ten million fluttery pulses in me. He held it against his cheek, gazing soulfully into my eyes. ‘Will you be honest with your friends? About us?’

‘It’s not really any of their business, but if they ask, then yes.’

‘You might lose a few.’

‘I know. That’s why it’s taken me so long to get the courage up. But I hope at least a couple might understand.’

He kissed the tip of my nose.

‘Brave girl,’ he said. ‘And now, I’ve got calls of my own to make. I’ll be in my office.’

He went off to take care of business and I stood up to give the Christmas tree a full appraisal. It looked glorious, warm and twinkly, like the Christmas tree of my childhood dreams. But I wouldn’t be spending Christmas here with Jasper – I’d be down on the coast with my parents, and he’d be with his mother in East Anglia. It wasn’t going to be easy, but we were going to have our own Christmas the day after Boxing Day and it was going to last all the way into the New Year.

I went back up to the bedroom and found the sim card of my old phone in a dresser drawer. Who would I call first? Stella? No, she was forthright to the point of abrasive. I’d leave her until I’d eased myself in a bit. Who was easy to talk to and undemanding and unjudgemental?

Rosie.

I found her number and dialled it, my fingers slippery over the metal rectangle. I was insanely nervous. I wondered if I’d even be able to talk.

It rang twice and then I heard a kind of gasp on the other end.

‘Oh, my God, Sarah, is it you?’

‘Rosie. I’m really sorry, so sorry, it’s been ages, I know …’

‘You changed your number! I tried and tried to call you.’

‘I know, I’m so sorry, but I was getting calls all day and night on that old number so …’

‘I bet you were!’

I stalled, suddenly aware of how noisy it was at Rosie’s end. She was in a pub or a café or something by the sound of it.

‘Sorry, are you OK to talk now? Are you busy?’

‘Oh, fine,’ she said. ‘Just having a coffee with friends.’

‘Ah, London life,’ I said wistfully.

‘Yeah, it’s brilliant, you’ll have to come up.’

‘I’d love to. Or you could come down here.’

There was another pause.

‘To … Jasper Jay’s place?’ she asked, as if in disbelief.

‘Sure. I mean it’s my place too. Oh, God, we have too much to talk about. Let’s meet up soon.’

‘I couldn’t believe it when that story came out,’ she said eagerly. ‘I’d been wondering where you were – all I’d had from you was a text about starting your new job back in September – and then, last month, bam! All over the papers, up close and personal with a famous film director. How did you swing that one?’

‘It turned out that house I was employed to work in over the summer was his,’ I explained. ‘And he came back early from filming and we … got to know each other.’

She snorted. ‘Just a bit,’ she said. ‘Anyway, you’re not the only one who’s been making new friends.’

‘You’re seeing someone?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Rosie! That’s excellent news! Tell me all about him.’

‘I would have put him on to speak to you, but he’s just been called away to talk about something in the office.’

‘Office? I thought you were having coffee with friends?’

‘Yeah, some of the friends kind of own the place. That’s who he’s talking to. Anyway, he’s called Dimitri and he’s dreamy as fuck.’

‘Dimitri?’

‘He’s Russian. A moustachioed Muscovite.’

‘Oh, wow, that sounds …’ Actually, I wasn’t sure how it sounded. ‘Amazing,’ I finished.

‘He is, take my word for it.’ Her voice tailed off into a sigh and then I heard something that sounded oddly like a whipcrack.

‘What was that?’

‘What?’

‘That noise? Was that you?’

‘Oh, no, somebody at another table,’ she said vaguely.

‘Where are you?’

She giggled.

‘Believe me, love, if I told you I’d have to kill you. Although something tells me you’d be cool with it.’

‘Rosie!’ I was too intrigued now.

‘Sorry, got to go. Dimitri’s coming over and he looks as if he has big news. I’ll call you back, OK?’

‘OK. I think Jasper’s coming out of his office anyway. Call me when you get a moment.’

I pressed ‘end call’ and went into the hall to intercept Jasper.

‘How did it go?’ he asked politely.

‘What?’

‘Your friend – did you call her?’

‘Oh … yes. She was a bit distracted though. How about you?’

‘Success. My friends at the BDSM club know the very people to play our body doubles. And I’ve decided to invite them down for a couple of days over New Year. What do you think? A bit of a party perhaps.’

I wasn’t sure what to think. What kind of party would four kinky people have? It all sounded rather alarming.

‘Not that kind of party,’ he said, seeing my ambivalence and putting a hand on my arm. ‘Unless …’

‘I don’t think so,’ I said hastily. ‘So, who are the people? Actors? Or just kinksters?’

‘Both, as it happens,’ he said, escorting me into the drawing room with a hand between my shoulder blades. ‘The woman is very experienced; she’s done a lot of spanking movies, reputable ones, plus she’s got an Equity card from being in the chorus line of a couple of shows.’

‘Does she look like me?’

‘From behind, I daresay she might,’ said Jasper with a grin. ‘She’s blonde, apparently, but we’ll get her a wig.’

‘And the man?’

We sat down together. Jasper put his feet up on a low table and clasped his hands behind his head.

‘A new talent, I’m told,’ he said. ‘Russian. Very popular at the club and he’s had quite a few bit parts. You know the kind of thing. “Eastern European patient” on Casualty and so forth. Nothing big yet, but he hasn’t been in the UK that long.’

‘Russian? Wow.’

‘He’s called Dimitri.’

I stiffened a bit, thinking this was something of a coincidence.

Jasper noticed.

‘What? Do you know him?’

‘No … just … my friend said she had a new boyfriend called Dimitri. Also Russian. From Moscow.’

Jasper smiled.

‘Do birds of a feather flock together?’ he asked slyly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, is she that way inclined, would you say? Your friend?’

‘Well … not that I know of. She’s just normal.’

‘Like you?’

‘Yeah … like me …’

My phone rang. It was Rosie again. I snatched it up.

‘Hey there.’

‘Sarah, hi, guess what, you’ll never guess what, oh, my God, you are not going to believe this.’

She sounded near-hysterical and as if she was going to burst into laughter before she got the words out.

‘What?’

‘This is the weirdest thing ever, I just can’t believe it.’

‘Rosie! Please!’

‘Your Jasper Jay –’

‘Er, yes?’ I glanced sideways at him. I didn’t know if he could hear Rosie’s words but he was certainly enjoying the high-pitched squawking.

‘– he’s only gone and offered Dimitri a job.’

‘What?’

I widened my eyes at Jasper, who widened them back, drolly.

‘He wants Dimitri to be a body double in his next film. Isn’t that just so beyond bizarre?’

‘Wow.’ I took the phone from my ear for a moment and said it again, to Jasper. ‘Wow.’

‘It’s the same Dimitri?’

‘So it seems.’

Jasper laughed and clapped his hands.

‘Tell her she’s invited too,’ he said.

I put the phone back to my ear.

‘Rosie? Did Dimitri tell you that Jasper was going to invite you down here for a couple of days?’

‘Yeah, him and bloody Trixietots.’

‘Who?’

‘The female body double.’

‘Oh, right. Well, he said you can come too.’

‘Really? Awesome! Oh, my God, this is just so …’

It certainly was just so … I could hardly put my own thoughts in order, let alone hers. A big realisation was muscling its way to the forefront of my brain, though, and I couldn’t hold it back.

‘So, Rosie, this club or café you’re at …?’

‘Ah, yeah, it’s kind of like a specialist place.’

‘I know what you mean.’

‘I thought you might.’

As if somebody had just wound us both up and taken out the key we began to laugh manically and in concert, a mixture of embarrassment and exhilaration at being able to talk openly about our taboo private lives.

‘I can’t wait to see you,’ I said, meaning it.

‘Isn’t it brilliant?’ she sighed. ‘So perfect. This is going to be the best Christmas ever.’

Chapter Three

As best Christmases ever went, it had some catching up to do.

Driving back to Jasper’s after two and a half days of awkward silences and desperate attempts to steer the conversation away from my private life, I reflected that I’d made the effort, been the dutiful daughter and now it was time to be me. Jasper and I had two days together before Rosie, Dimitri and the mysterious Trixietots showed up and I could hardly wait to ease back into our dynamic.

Wearing normal clothes and having normal conversations seemed such an effort now. I’d forgotten how to do that kind of thing. And Mum and Dad both wanted to know about my career plans, the museum and all of that while I just wanted to switch off from the irksome necessity of thinking and eat a tin of Cadbury’s Roses in front of the Downton Christmas special.

When Jasper had phoned on Christmas Day, Mum had said, ‘That was him, was it?’ with very tight lips.

What a shame. They had seemed to come round to him on that awkward, horrible day they met him at my flat. Mum had been charmed and Dad reluctantly followed suit. But the newspaper-story affair seemed to have shoved them back to square one with Jasper as the villain of the piece.

His name wasn’t brought up, by any of us, and we skirted around the issue, being over-effusive about the food and excessively interested in what was on TV until I could pack my bags with a sigh of relief and escape to the car.

No sight had ever been more welcome than the automatic gates in front of Jasper’s drive. I entered the combination and watched them glide open, granting me access to wonderland again.

Wonderland was looking a bit brown and slushy underfoot, but the avenue of arching bare-branched trees still gladdened my heart as I passed through it, finally catching my first glimpse of the house sitting in splendour beyond the expanse of melting snow.

Downstairs lights were on and the windows glowed. I felt myself illumine in response.

I wondered if he’d hear me drive up and park. Would he come to the door to welcome me?

I leaped out on to the gravel, but it was left to me to get my case from the boot and lug it up the steps to the front door. No sign of him yet.

I thought about ringing the doorbell, but it seemed a bit silly when I had a key of my own. I opened the door and stood looking at that same Christmas tree, still gorgeously adorned and fairylit, towering over the handsome vestibule like a green bushy gatekeeper.

The tree welcomed me back, but there was still no sign of Jasper.

I pulled my suitcase on to the parquet and shut the door behind me.

‘Hello?’

Perhaps he was out. But his car was in the drive and he wouldn’t leave lights on in the house before leaving – it was just such an un-Jasper thing to do. Maybe he was chopping wood in the kitchen yard? Now that I’d like to see …

My mouth already watering, I passed through the back kitchen and looked hopefully into the yard, but there was no strapping, axe-wielding man to be seen with shirtsleeves pushed up his arms and an honest sweat gathering on his brow. Worse luck.

I returned to the hall and called out again, but without much hope of a response. As I did so, something glittering under the tree caught my eye and I noticed a parcel in holographic wrapping paper lying there.

Was this my Christmas present?

I knew I should wait until he was around to share the exchange of gifts, but I was too intrigued not to pick the box up and take a closer look.

There was a card on it. I looked for Jasper’s writing, expecting it to have the conventional ‘To Sarah, Merry Christmas, love Jasper’ format on it, but it didn’t. It said, ‘Open me now. Don’t wait.’

Ooh.

I looked around, convinced now that I must be being watched. Would Jasper have put a hidden camera somewhere? On the stairs, on the wall, in the tree?

I obeyed the directive on the tag and began to unwrap the parcel. Inside the paper was a box and the box contained a pair of brown leather cuffs with buckles and rings. Slightly disappointing, as Christmas presents go, but there was another card inside and I picked it up, my heart skippy with excitement.

‘Put on the cuffs. Find your next gift in the drawing room.’

I buckled the new cuffs around my wrists. They were comfortable and felt luxurious; obviously the best quality, which was typical of Jasper.

In the drawing room there was still no sign of the man himself but I soon found the next gift, a flat rectangular box that took up most of the chaise-longue it had been placed upon.

Inside it, wrapped in layers of silver tissue paper, was a tiny filmy black lace babydoll nightdress; more like gossamer than lace, in fact. It came with a pair of hold-up stockings and a frilly garter but nothing else. A card fluttered out when I unfolded it.

‘Put these on. Come to the office.’

Surely he had to be watching? I felt intensely self-conscious, despite the silent stillness of the room, as I pulled off my boots, stepped out of my jeans, unbuttoned my shirt. I was strongly conscious of undressing for someone, even though there was nobody there. I tried to be graceful and seductive instead of taking it quickly, imagining Jasper’s eyes, his face, his intent concentration at all times.

The babydoll was barely there against my skin, just a little gauzy web over my breasts and belly, so short that it left the lower half of my pubic triangle exposed.

I tried to smooth it down so it might cover more, but there was no point. It was supposed to be this short. I sat on a buttoned velvet stool and eased on the stockings – carefully, because they were so sheer a sharp look would probably ladder them.

Dressed and ready for action – but not the kind of action in an action movie – I tiptoed on my stockinged feet over to the office.

I felt so sure that Jasper would be in there that I knocked first.

No direction followed, either to enter or to wait. I knocked again, then turned the handle.

No, he was not there.

On his leather swivel chair was another box, stout and square.

This one proved to contain a little silk-embroidered case inside which lay a pair of shining silver balls. They jingled when I took them out. Of course, I knew what they were. I hadn’t studied the historical evolution of sex toys for nothing. But, strangely perhaps, given our no-holds-barred relationship, I’d never yet experienced them in play.

A label was stuck inside the lid of the case.

‘Insert them,’ it said, ‘and walk (carefully) up the stairs to the master bathroom.’

And now I was glad to be alone and, hopefully, unobserved. I removed the box from the chair and sat down, considering how this was best to be done. I thought it best not to put them in while I was sitting bare-bottomed on the seat, so I stood up again and leaned against the desk instead. Or did I need to be lying down?

No, I would stay in this position and, if any adjustments needed to be made, I would see to them. I took one of the balls out of the case and jiggled it up and down in my palm. It made the most beautiful low chiming sound. Whose idea was it to make them do that? It seemed a bit random, but pleasingly so.

I reached down below, keeping my thighs apart, and rested one shiny curve against the shallow dint behind my pussy lips. It felt cold, but unthreatening. Jasper had certainly put more menacing objects than this up there quite painlessly.

I gave it a little nudge, thinking perhaps it would be better to do this lying down, because my wrist was beginning to ache. But I didn’t have to struggle to insert it at all – it glided in and my pelvic muscles held it in place. For a moment, I worried that it would be lost up there, but all the same I pushed the other one in behind it – and now I could really feel them together, squashed in and stretching me. Keeping them in would constitute a fairly serious workout for my pelvic floor. I supposed Jasper was only trying to be helpful.