Page 61 of The Desire

At least she has left me here on my own for a while, and I can concentrate on checking out this place. Not that I was that keen on her heading into the village on her own, but I need to remember that she is a grown woman who survived this world perfectly fine without me. Not a concept I want to accept, but for now I have no choice.

Taking my time, I move from room to room taking photos and checking on structure. All the rooms that have been restored are actually in good shape. They look terrible aesthetically, but the building is in a good condition and a solid base for Tori to make it all look better with her design magic.

At the end of the smaller corridor that leads off the main hallway on the ground floor is the doorway that was installed to separate the house from the area that’s not been touched yet with restoration. I’m not sure what I’m walking into, but one thing I’m sure of, it will be dark, dirty, and probably smell like something died in here.

Finding the right key, the door creaks open, and I doubt it’s been opened in a very long time. The previous owner’s children don’t live around here and had left the keys with the booking agent for me. Using the flashlight I packed in case I needed it, I start looking into rooms that are like the others on this floor, just in poor condition. Some are bigger than others. The bigger ones could be used as reception or conference rooms, or perhaps luxury rooms with ensuite bathrooms built into them. Not my problem to worry about, but even with my limited styling ability I can see potential. I can also see the ability to get technology and security measures installed without it encroaching on the historical nature of the building.

At the end of the hallway, the last door leads me into a huge commercial-sized kitchen that looks like it could easily be adapted to run the hotel’s catering needs. I know Tori is keen to host weddings here, and it would be the perfect location for that charming classical feel, along with great options for wedding photos. I can’t help it that my hobby of photography is always in my thoughts when looking at something. But the electrical fittings here might need a fair bit of work to get it up to standard for modern appliances and the voltage drain it would take on the power circuits.

I jot more notes into my phone that we will need a rewire, which we already assumed anyway but know from past experience is hugely expensive. There is no way a building this old will have safe wiring, let alone be able to cope with the power needed for today’s technological needs.

Taking more photos with my phone, I get to the last door on the right of the big thick wooden back door of the building. The door is stuck but nothing a small shove with my shoulder can’t fix, and it opens to complete darkness and my flashlight shows steps leading down into what I assume is the cellar, or should it be called a dungeon in a castle?

I smile to myself at what I thought the moment I knew I was heading here with El. This was where I figured it would be safer for me to sleep, but there is no way in hell I would be game to spend one more minute down here than I need to. I have no idea what would have happened here over the life of the castle, but I don’t think I want to know.

Thank God we will be paying contractors to come and clean it out and do the work we need here. But what I can see is that the ceiling is high enough for us to be able to use the space to run wires and cabling that will be needed upstairs and have it hidden from sight. And knowing Nic and Flynn, this will make a perfect wine cellar for them, cold and damp, or as they would say, a perfect wine storing temperature. One of the things with many of the older buildings we have across Europe is that they usually have an underground space of some sort that has been converted to a wine cellar by the previous owner or us once we purchase it. With the clientele we attract to our hotels, they have money, and they like luxury. With that, they expect good food and high-priced, good-quality wines.

Most of the rooms down here are just bare stone brick walls that have either a door in it, most of which are broken, or a few still have iron bars. Obviously at some time in history they were used for not great reasons. The last door at the back of the room is locked, but a piece of it has fallen, leaving a small hole in the door large enough that I can see inside.

“Holy shit.” The surprised whisper falls from my mouth, jaw open, while I blink to see if it is what I think it is.

Out of the whole building, this room is probably the most modern and in the newest condition. I need to get inside the room and check this out.

I methodically go through the keys on the key ring, but none of them work in this lock. Maybe the key is hidden somewhere here. I start to feel around the bricks to see if there is one of those secret spots like you see in the movies, but everything feels solid and there is no chance that anything is a false brick.

I know this isn’t our building yet, and I shouldn’t be doing any damage, but if I know Nic like I think I do, this is already a done deal. He wants to give his soon-to-be wife a castle, so that’s what he will be doing. Besides, one damaged door won’t matter, and if it does, I’ll pay to fix it myself.

The hole in the door is at the top of the panel in the center. Pushing hard with the bottom part of my palm, it starts to crack down a little farther. The harder I push, the lower the crack goes, until finally more of the wood breaks away and crashes into the room. A gap opens up, big enough I can get my arm in and down to the back of the handle, and I unlock it from the inside. As I pull my arm back through, the jagged edge catches my shirt and the cotton tears, and I can feel a sharp pain down the side of my bicep.

“For fuck’s sake.” Losing my patience with trying to do this gently, I pull my arm out as I feel warm blood start trickling down my arm.

Taking my shirt off, I turn it inside out to the clean part and wrap it around my arm to stop it from bleeding any more and to keep it as clean as I can. Who knows what germs are down in this dark place. Finally, I open the door to the room that has me so intrigued. Panning the flashlight around, I find the light switch, but when I flick it on and off, nothing happens. The wiring has probably been chewed through by rats since the room hasn’t been used for a while.

The moment I step into the room, my suspicions are confirmed. But there is way more than I need to see.

“I suppose age doesn’t matter these days.” I look around the room at the photos that are framed and hanging proudly on the deep-maroon-colored walls. I assume they are of the old couple who owned the castle before they both died and left it to their children. This room could very well be the reason the kids didn’t want anything to do with the property, and I can’t blame them. Not sure I would want to see my parents in that light either; knowing they have sex and seeing what sort of sex are two very different things.

In the corner is what looks like a St Andrews’ cross, and beside it is a spanking bench. Another apparatus I’m not sure about looks as if it is used to suspend a person from the ceiling. There’s a rack along the wall that contains multiple whips, paddles, and floggers, and to the side is a large bed with straps attached to the headboard. And lastly, in the center of the room, is a swing that looks like it would give the perfect position to have a fucking good time with your partner, literally.

Holy shit, this is a lot, and they have obviously knocked down a few walls to combine a few of the rooms to make this one big room when they set it up.

Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I can’t get a signal, so I take the photos I need to send to the guys but just make sure the photos on the wall aren’t in them; they’re not my pictures to share. As I walk back upstairs, my arm starts to hurt more, and I know I should get El back here to take a look at me, but I don’t want to scare her. So, I just message her with part of the reason I need her here. Someone needs to be my witness.

Because no one is going to believe me that this old castle contains a modern sex room in its basement. With naked photos of a few perhaps fifty-year-old naked people in various sexual positions on the walls and one of the same couple later in life in their seventies. A selfie where they have a black fluffy blanket draped over them in bed, naked from the shoulders up, and she is lying on his shoulder, looking lovingly up into his eyes and he into hers. It is framed and placed on a table in the corner of the room with a candle next to it. I mean, as someone who loves the art of photography, they are tasteful and artistically done but just not what I was expecting, that’s for sure.

I head back into the main part of the building and find the small kitchen that is on the ground level in the restored part of the castle, checking all the cupboards for a medical kit. But there is nothing in sight except for a few cans of tomatoes and some dry pasta, a box of tea bags, and some sugar packets, and weirdly, a bottle of oil with no label on it. My mind goes to places it shouldn’t for what that oil is used for in this house, but surely it wouldn’t be in the kitchen.

I can’t remember how long ago Nic said that the owners died except for the fact that they died within four months of each other. Bizarre but in a way cute, I guess. Tori went on and on in the meeting about how romantic it was, but seriously, how can you find romance in death? I’m guessing it must be a woman thing, because listening to Tori and El talk, they can find romance in anything they put their minds to.

Deciding I’m better to just wait for El to deal with my arm, I start taking a walk around the outside of the building and check out the gardens. It has been let go, but besides the atrocious decorating and that room downstairs in the dungeon, the old place is growing on me. Not that I have anything against sex rooms or clubs, but it’s just not my thing.

I spend my life protecting people and especially the ones I care for. I can’t think of anything harder for me than to hurt them in any way, even if they enjoyed it. It’s just not in my nature. And that is my biggest conflict with what I do with Cherie.

Suddenly flashes of El on the Saint Andrew’s cross downstairs make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. There is a difference between playing with her and tying her to the bed so I can pull the most intense orgasms from her and binding her to the cross to whip her.

To each their own, I say.

It does make me laugh that here in Scotland where their flag is the Saint Andrew’s cross, these Scottish people have taken their love of their country to a new level.

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