Buying The Virgin Part 1-3

Beth and I sit out on the terrace, overlooking the long, elegant, walled garden. Her eyes are sparkling with mischief. “That should give them something to think about, settle them down a bit don’t you think?”

“Richard won’t be upset about it?”

She shakes her head. “He asked me to get to know you.”

“James is a lovely person you know.”

“I’m sure he is. And Michael?”

“Oh yes, even more so.”

“So…” she leans forward, conspiratorially. “How on earth do you manage with two of them? I’ve got my hands full with one.”

*****

One of the wine bottles is empty.

“Let me show you something, Charlotte.” The twinkle in her eyes is wicked. “Come with me. Bring that other bottle of wine.”

She leads me through the long central hallway of the house. As we pass the dining room, we can hear the three men, talking quietly. She looks at me, holding a finger to her lips as we walk silently past.

At the back of the hall is a door, locked. She pulls out a key from a pocket, unlocks it, and leads me down a stone stairway into a basement.

It is beautiful. Down a long corridor, vaulted ceilings arch above us, the stonework clearly old. Doors lead off to either side. We pass scents of wet laundry and oil, but she leads me along, pushing the end door open. “Take a look,” she says with a giggle, reaching around the door to flick on a light switch.

I step inside.

When I see the room, the only thing I can compare it to is the ‘dungeon’ at the club, but whereas that is a copy, here, I am looking at the real thing. The vaulted stone ceilings of the corridor continue through, arching high above us, but now span a large room, perhaps forty feet wide, fifty long. In an old house of this sort, it was perhaps once a meat store. Butchers’ hooks project from the arches that might once have taken animal carcasses. Now, they dangle chains and ropes.

Racks on the walls carry flails, whips, and floggers. The floor is scattered with a variety of padded benches of different sizes and heights. And a huge four-poster bed takes up the far end of the room. The only nods to normality are a wine rack on one wall, stacked with dusty bottles, and a large ginger cat snoozing on the bed.

says Beth, “why Richard was not at

am sucking in my cheeks, trying to contain my reaction, but at her words, I just burst out laughing,

says. “Let’s open that

*****

others are scattered around us. A further bottle is half empty. Beth and I are sitting together, cross-legged on the bed, shrieking with laughter. The cat has settled in my lap. “You mean

the shower head, got me all wound up, and then refused to

to ask more, but the door swings open at the far end of the room, my Master, Michael, and Richard, all looking

wife, arms akimbo. “When I said to have a chat with the girl, I meant in the

husband, “If you don’t like it, you shouldn’t have introduced us. Remember, women

there is a glint of

at the state of the bottles. “You two are going to really regret this

He glances at me, grinning. “Now I know what

“Nope. Not many. We’ve had a really good

says my Master. “Perhaps you’ve had enough

who’s had too much. You’re all blurry at the

“These two are going to

*****

morning, Beth and I feel less like talking. Waiting until he’s not looking, I rummage through Michael’s bag of tricks for

for?” says

a packet

of you would have royal hangovers this morning. You’ll

nursing a black coffee apiece. Our eyes meet, and despite a shocking headache and

me, the contents fizzing. “Get that

pours a saucer of milk, as the cat wanders

he asks. “Nice

stop that damn cat stomping

*****

orange juice having worked their