A Hard Bargain Read Online Free PDF Page A

you’re not fit to be let out, girl.”
    I stare at him, my heart sinking, despairing, utterly crushed. He’s right. Of course he’s right. What a fool, what a stupid, naïve little fool. And the worst of it is, I really did trust Mistress Angela. She’s been kind to me, always. Firm, but fair and caring. And now he’s telling me she was just using me, cheating me. I can’t believe it, was I really so stupid, so easily taken in? Surely I couldn’t have been so completely fooled, I’ve known her for months now, she knows me, understands how hard it is for me sometimes… The disappointment, the sense of betrayal is more painful than anything else.
    He smiles, takes pity perhaps on my stricken expression. “Don’t look so distraught, your instincts about Angela were right. She’s on your side and was never out for anything but your best interests. And I gather she did advise you against offering to pay me?”
    I nod, at least that bit of logic makes sense and I can hang onto some shred of sanity in all this. Mistress Angela can’t have been after my money if she didn’t want me to put any on the table. She did advise me not to offer to pay, just to ask nicely. It was my idea, only mine, to put a price tag on Nicholas Hardisty. And look where it got me.
    “And what did you think you’d be buying with your twenty-five thousand pounds? A trip to Alton Towers?”
    He picks up the phone and pulls up his emails, finds mine from all those weeks ago. He starts to read from it , “‘…work with me, train me in order that I can become accustomed to submission and the BDSM lifestyle. I am interested in exploring the various forms of submission, the usual and most common practices, and so on’.” He stops, looks up at me, disdain and dismissal all over his face. “A D/s relationship is not a trip to a bloody theme park, and a trainer is a lot more than a fucking tour guide. What did you think I’d do, take you around, show you the sights, give you a pack of sandwiches and make sure you were back on your bus well in time for your evening meal?”
    He’s glaring at me now, contempt etched firmly across his handsome face, his slate eyes glittering. If I could feel any smaller I’d probably disappear down a crack in the floorboards. I’m sobbing now, really sobbing, but it’s my own brand of silent weeping. Unable to bear his intense, accusing, disgusted gaze any longer, I cover my face with my hands, my shoulders heaving as I continue to sob, just desperate now to be done with this and allowed to crawl away somewhere, anywhere. To hide, to hate myself as much as he seems to. To try to forget I ever imagined I could do any of this. I hear the chair creak as he gets up.
    “Well, if that’s all the sense I’m going to get out of you, we might as well finish this now. Stand up and get undressed.” His tone is clipped, distant, he just wants to be done with me and get away, back to much more interesting and worthwhile companions.
    And miserable though I am, humiliated and cowed under the weight of his distaste, I gather together some residual shreds of self-worth, enough to make my last protest, my last appeal for some sort of bloody justice in all this. I grab the phone, now lying beside me on the bed once more. He said he’d always give me time if I’ve something to say—well now I have, and he can bloody well wait.
    I know I need help. I know I need to learn. I want to learn. I asked you to help me. I was wrong about the money and I’m sorry. I messed up. Badly. And I know you won’t help me now. But I still need to be trained. Please, is there anyone else I can ask?
    I thrust the iPhone back at him. While he’s reading I do as he’s instructed me to do. I stand and remove my cropped top. I’m braless underneath, naturally, and in a show of defiance—dwindling but still flickering faintly—I turn my back on him as I start to unfasten the zip at the side of my miniskirt. Under that I have a thong. He might