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Jacqueline boarded the train wrapped in a long, fur-lined cape. The conductor checked her ticket and, rather than sending her with the porter, told her to follow him. He led her through the narrow corridor to the first class cabins. There he unlocked door number 312 and stood aside, letting her enter. She neither said a word nor looked at him, but stepped into the plush cabin. She looked out on to the end of a hazy Paris afternoon and waited for the door to close behind her.
Once she was alone, she turned to the confines of the small space. Two benches coated in rich crimson velvet faced one another. On one of the benches lay a long, white box wrapped in thick, black ribbon. She looked at it. She had known it would be waiting for her. Jacqueline sat down, her cape opening as she did so. Beneath the heavy garment, she was naked, as she’d been instructed. Her slim body shivered in the sudden cool now that the furs were gone. Reaching for the box, she untied the ribbon and opened it. Unfolding the soft tissue paper, she looked at the gift her lover had left for her. Fear and curiosity, among a host of other emotions, mingled in her belly as her trembling fingers lifted the riding crop out of its box and set it on her lap.
The train rumbled on the tracks as it began its slow departure from her beloved city.
The riding crop was thin and not overly menacing to behold. However, she’d felt the sting of it a few times. Paul, her lover, had used it very rarely, and on those occasions only a few strokes. But she had displeased him and he was sending her to Marcus now.
Jacqueline’s heartbeat quickened at the thought of Marcus. Women spoke of him in tight circles and even then in hushed whispers. He had a certain reputation and only in the most extreme cases were women sent to him.
She stroked the fine leather of the crop. Anticipation of what was to come both frightened and excited her. The whip she held in her hands would soon become the instrument of both her pain and her release. She uncrossed her legs and brushed the leather over the bare flesh of her thighs. It felt smooth, almost soft.
She pictured Marcus holding the crop. She’d only met him once, a few months ago, and after that meeting, she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. The attraction between them was something she’d never experienced before; extraordinary, almost chemical.
Marcus and Paul had spoken about her introduction to the world of BDSM as if she hadn’t been there. She remembered listening, eyes lowered, feeling Marcus’ gaze on her. They talked in great detail about how Paul had been breaking her in. Marcus had insinuated that Paul was too light handed, but Paul hadn’t reacted. He enjoyed playing with her, taking his time in her education.
However, she had secretly agreed with Marcus. She had wanted more but at the same time was afraid of her own desires. She’d been testing Paul lately but she hadn’t expected this. She never believed he’d send her to another man. To Marcus. But if she were truly honest with herself, she’d have to admit that she was getting exactly what she wanted, but couldn’t ask for.
The train travelled into the night. The blackened window served as a mirror. She reached for the hooks of the cape and undid them, letting the cape slide from her shoulders to gather around her hips. Looking down at her breasts, she first caressed, then pinched her nipples. The transfer of sensation between breasts and belly was immediate and she opened her legs, sitting the way she’d been instructed to sit for Paul. That action itself never failed to arouse her.
She spread her legs wider. Then, holding the crop in one hand, she caressed the small triangle of dark hair, finding her wet sex. Pinching her clit, she took the crop and slid it through the folds of her vagina. She did this several times, closing her eyes at the sensation. She knew one thing for certain about Marcus. All of the women who’d been sent to him came back not only with the marks of the punishment they’d endured but also with stories of unparalleled sex.
The door opened, startling her. She hurried to cover herself as the conductor walked into her cabin with a tray.
He didn’t speak as he laid plates of food on the table. She endured his eyes on her. She knew her cape didn’t quite cover everything but remained as she was. She was used to being looked at and didn’t care about this man. He could not touch her, she knew that.
After a moment he left and this time she heard the lock turn behind him. She realised then that, by boarding the train today, She consented to her punishment, to submit totally to Marcus. She would spend some weeks with him in his London home. And the riding crop in her hands told her exactly what she would have to endure during her stay.
She brought the crop to her face and inhaled. Jacqueline then tasted the leather which was coated with her own sticky arousal.