The Ultimate Erotica Collection: 3 Books in 1 - Destined to Play, The Silver Chain, Run to You. Primula Bond

time this weekend, I never want you to ask the time again. Do you understand me?’ He is so close I am dizzy with his questions and demands. I am dumbfounded at the sharpness of his words as his heady presence and aroma invade every facet of my space.

      ‘Have-I-made-myself-clear?’ He emphasises each word purposefully. I am at a loss as to this change of mood, the darkened edge to his voice, so much so that I am astonishingly not willing to risk an offhand or flippant comment in response. It is too strange, the tension palpable. So I defiantly remain silent, considering this to be the safest strategy, even though his erection continues to swell intensely against my belly. He grabs my shoulders and spins me around, pushing my breasts deliberately against the wall and swiftly slaps my arse so hard I am left with a stinging sensation that I cannot remotely fathom. This is the last thing I expect from him. I’m horrified. He just spanked me! Blindfolded, in the corridor of a hotel. He spins me back around just as rapidly, seemingly to inspect the look of utter shock on my face as a result of his handiwork.

      ‘I asked you a question, Alexandra. Are we clear?’ he says in his stern, metallic voice. All I can utter is ‘Perfectly!’ my knickerless arse sizzling against the wall. This is something new; he has done a lot of things to me over the years but never anything like that.

      ‘Good. Let’s go.’ He takes hold of my elbow and steers me firmly down the corridor, my heels clattering against the hardened floor to keep pace with him. The sensation of being spanked is not something I am familiar with. I can’t remember the last time it was done to me, even in childhood. Robert had certainly never done anything like that. He was always serious in the bedroom — perfunctory, never playful. I realise then and there that Jeremy is the opposite of Robert — playful, unexpected and oh, how I’ve missed this unpredictability in my life. Even now, humiliated in a hotel corridor, though I feel out of control, at the same time adrenalin is pumping through me in a way I haven’t felt in years. I am truly alive.

      I hear a ‘ding’ sound and the lift doors open as he guides me in. I take a deep breath and pray. Please don’t let us bump into anyone I know. Please, please, please! The doors close and Jeremy doesn’t skip a beat before his hands are stroking my thighs, coercing the softness between my legs to moisten further and become even more accommodating, which started the second his swift hand slapped my butt. An unexpected insight … how can I be in shock yet so highly aroused and horny at the same time? Jeremy knows each and every one of my sensitive spots as well as any doctor knows the anatomy of the human body, and he isn’t missing a single opportunity to use my body as his personal radar, testing and paying attention to the response, to great advantage.

      It is such a weird sensation not being able to anticipate arousal; obviously visual stimulation plays a major role in this. Stranger still is having no true sense of what is coming next. Being so frustrated you could scream, then wham, one light, smooth stroke and your body roars into gear proactively endorsing the sting and the caress and leaving you begging for more. How does that work? The problem is, I’m not sure whether my body is betraying me deliberately or whether it knows my mind far more effectively than I could possibly imagine.

      ‘Please stop it, Jeremy. It is hard enough to focus on what’s going on, let alone having your hands distracting me at every opportunity.’

      ‘The whole idea of this weekend is that you don’t focus on anything, Alex.’

      ‘Well, it is just not possible,’ I say, exasperated.

      The lift door opens and we step out as a rush of air blows my hair back. Jeremy is greeted. I feel the blood rushing to my face and am sure it is flushed.

      ‘Dr J, how wonderful you could join us this evening, it’s been too long.’

      My legs quiver beneath me as Jeremy holds me securely upright.

      ‘Lovely to see you again, Leo.’

      ‘Let me show you to your table.’ I am chaperoned to a lounge seat where Jeremy settles me into position. I quickly cross my legs, given my lack of underwear and inwardly curse Jeremy for making me feel as uncomfortable as I ever have in my entire life.

      Who is Leo anyway and why can I hear the faint hum of voices around me? I can feel my forehead developing minute droplets of perspiration as my anxiety rises at the unknown yet again. Why am I so on edge anyway? Relax, enjoy, I tell myself. Impossible, comes the response.

      ‘What will sir be drinking tonight?’

      ‘We will have two martinis, extra dry, stirred not shaken, with a twist.’

      Jeremy’s response instantly surprises me. He has just ordered my perfect martini, even though I haven’t touched a martini in the past ten years. Unbelievable.

      I try to keep myself calm enough to at least decipher my surroundings and congratulate myself on maintaining a few moments of self-control. I notice the carpet is thick and lush and the voices are very low; some nondescript music is meandering around the room. As the fact that we are not alone comes to mind once again, my apprehension gains momentum until Jeremy’s voice interrupts its predetermined destination.

      ‘I’m assuming you are happy to have a martini? That is the way you always liked them in Europe.’

      ‘A martini is the least of my problems.’ I try to calm my voice as much as possible. ‘How could you have brought me here with other people around? What if someone recognises us? I can’t believe you are compromising me like this. You are putting both of us at enormous personal and professional risk. How could you? It is totally unacceptable.’ My tension builds like a tsunami through my bloodstream. My heart pumps faster than it can reasonably handle, perspiration not cooling my body temperature as effectively as it should be. He has gone too far, this is not right. My hands are twisting and palms sliding with sweat on my lap. My breath short and shallow, I easily diagnose my state as an imminent anxiety attack. Jeremy cups my hands together.

      ‘Calm down, everything is fine. You are overreacting.’

      Overreacting? My internal voice is incredulous. ‘Nothing is fine!’ I exclaim, control almost lost. I rein it in as best I can as I have no idea who is in the room, who these people are. Does it matter? Yes, it does, damn it. I answer myself. And no doubt Jeremy knows this, knows I will attempt to contain my emotions in public.

      ‘How could you put me in this situation, Jeremy? How dare you? Who are these people?’

      I feel vulnerable, alone and completely out of control. My body trembles as it experiences the invading cocktail of emotions. This is not nearly as easy as I thought it would be, and I’m a little disappointed in myself for not handling it more professionally. But what is professional about being at dinner with a frigging blindfold on? Goodness knows what they are thinking, seeing a blindfolded woman arguing with one of the country’s, make that the world’s most renowned medical researchers. Or maybe this just happens to be ‘Blindfold Friday’ at the InterContinential — as if!

      Suddenly, a moment of complete clarity and confidence sweeps through me. I realise I am in control. I still have legs that can walk, hands that can at least remove the suffocating blindfold that may enable some form of blurred, dark vision, and a voice to say ‘No!’ — the one thing I have never, ever been able to say to Jeremy. If luck is on my side, I may even be able to engage some innocent bystander to help me escape from this outrageous situation. As I let these thoughts rapidly flow through my body, I suddenly feel empowered to act.

      ‘I can’t do this, Jeremy. I know you were hoping that I could, and I have tried, but I can’t. I’m sorry I promised you, but it was a stupid mistake. This situation is proving impossible for me to manage.’ At these words, I stand up and raise my hands to remove my blindfold and be free of the embarrassment and submission it causes me. Just as my fingertips touch the silky layer, Jeremy launches himself over my body sending me flying back into the lounge seat. He grabs my hands and roughly pins them behind my back. With his legs now straddling mine, I am anchored to the seat and breathless at the suddenness of his plunge. The emotion between us is sizzling hot. He secures his grip around my wrists and ensures I literally can’t move from under his physical presence.

      ‘You