Pop Goes the Weasel

33

He gripped the bullwhip firmly and let fly. It bit into her back with a satisfying snap. Her shoulders arched then slumped, but she didn’t make a sound. Whatever pain she was feeling she swallowed it down. Raising her shoulders again, she braced herself for more, throwing down a challenge to her dominator. Jake obliged, cracking the whip again. Still she made no sound.

It was now a couple of months since they’d renewed their relationship. Unquestionably it was different this time – he knew so much more about her and, though he never pried, he tacitly encouraged her to confide further in him by telling her his life story. He had shared as much as he was comfortable with – no one else knew that his parents were still alive but refused to talk to him – and yet he received so little in return. He understood that this was her safe space and he would never compromise that, but he wanted to move their relationship on. He had feelings for her – there was no point denying it. This should have prompted him to call time on their arrangement – any professional dominator worth his salt would do so – but he’d tried that before and it hadn’t worked.

It wasn’t love. At least he didn’t think it was. But it was more than he had felt for anyone in a long time. When you’ve been so unloved, such a cast-off in life, you keep your feelings firmly locked down. Since hitting puberty Jake had had many relationships – they had been with men and women, young and old, but one thing had remained constant. His desire to be free. Now, however, he found himself less and less interested in playing the field. Monogamy had never been his thing, but now he could see the attraction. It was crazy really, given that he and Helen had never even come close to having sex, but then that wasn’t what it was really about. There was something about her that he wanted to protect, to save. If she would only let him.

She had been virtually monosyllabic tonight. It felt like a depressing step back to the early days of their acquaintanceship. Something had happened to upset her – Jake was debating whether or not to say something when, out of the blue, she suddenly said:

‘Do you ever feel cursed?’

It was such an unexpected question that Jake was at first speechless. Then, going too far the other way, he blathered ineffectually, trying to reassure her and at the same time probe without being intrusive. She didn’t respond.

He crossed the room and took her hand in his. He was talking all the while, but Helen stared straight ahead, hardly registering his presence. Eventually, she looked down, seemingly noticing for the first time that he had taken her hand in his. She looked at him, not unkindly, then withdrew it.

She crossed the room, dressed, then headed for the door. Pausing, she whispered:

‘Thank you.’

And then she was gone. Jake was offended, bemused and worried. What the hell was going on with her? And why did she feel cursed?

There was so much left unsaid, so much bottled up inside her, and Jake was desperate to help her if he could. He was certain she didn’t have anyone else to talk to. But in spite of his desperation, he knew he couldn’t push it. He was powerless in this relationship and could make none of the running. He would have to wait for Helen to come to him.