Erotic novel sample chapter: Chambers of Sin

I have a new writing project.  Here is the first chapter for your entertainment:

Chambers of Sin

Victor

‘On your knees, in front of me.’

I dropped and sat on my heels.  My knees stuck to the cheap laminate.  I bowed my head.  I noticed a flake of onion skin floating like an insect’s wing near the kitchen cupboard.  The edges of the PVC hood and jock strap that she had made me wear chafed pleasurably.  Beth stood before me; her feet set apart, a riding crop jutting out from her hip.

‘Entertain me.’

I spread my knees apart and gazed up at her, surveying her full, beautiful length.

‘Wank yourself, for me.’  She commanded, ‘Now.’

I slipped my fingers behind the tight, sticky fabric and stroked the smooth skin of my cock.  Beth lowered herself slowly against the worktop.  Her dark eyes scoured me.  She said nothing for exactly ten minutes, between 14.12 and 14.22.  I watched the white clock above the sink.

‘This is not entertaining.’

I shrugged and removed my hand, wiping my clammy palms on my straining thighs.

‘You are nowhere near orgasm.’  She continued, ‘What do we call that?’

‘Not good enough, mistress.’ I muttered.

Beth clicked behind me and I felt the lace of her corset scratch down my back as she squatted.  Her slim hand, tipped with blood red nails trailed down my chest and over my belly seeking my manhood.  I began to stiffen irresistibly.

‘I suppose you think that you deserve another round with the riding crop?’

‘Whatever your will may be, mistress, I endeavour to – ‘

Her grip tightened on my balls, my erection was rapidly growing and escaping from her fist.

‘You, in my bedroom in the next five minutes.  Understand?’

She swept out of the kitchenette, across the lounge and through a door into her bedroom.  This time, I wasn’t watching the clock.  I was confused.  Beth had never invited me into the bedroom.  As I had understood our arrangement, she was not a prostitute so why would she want me in her bedroom?  My erection bloomed, rubbing against the tight pants.  I walked as if in a trance to her bedroom and knocked.

‘Come!’

I opened the door, slowly.  I had been coming for sessions twice a week for five months and I had never seen the room that lay behind this door.  The bed was a king size, the frame comprised of vertical, gunmetal bars.  The covers were black.  Beth had laid out two pairs of military grade handcuffs and two sets of chain gang style shackles on the bed.  I tried to swallow but my tongue had tried to ash.

‘Aren’t those types of restraints illegal to sell to the public nowadays?’

I had to force the words out.  I didn’t like where this was heading.  I hadn’t come here for sex, I had come here for my dose of pain.

‘I bought them before that stupid law came in.  They’re very hard wearing.’

‘Is that so, mistress?’  I winced, trying to buy time, standing half in and half outside of the room.

‘Shut up.  On your back, on the bed, now.’

I put my hands up in surrender.

‘Time out.’

She walked across to me and grabbed me by the shoulders.

‘Time out?’  She repeated, ‘Why, Mr. Chambers?  I haven’t done anything to you yet.’

I stood up to my full height and looked down at her.

‘I am the client and if I say time out then I want time out.  Don’t fuck me about or I won’t pay you.’

She took her hands away and rolled her black lined eyes to the ceiling.

‘What’s wrong, Mr. Chambers?’ Beth sighed, flopping down on her bed.

I sat down as far from her as I could, trying not to slide on the pillows.

‘I don’t want sex.  I want a dominatrix, not a prostitute.  I made that perfectly clear when I answered your advertisement.’  I asserted as much as one can assert through the unzipped slit in a PVC hood.

She crossed her legs beneath herself as though meditating.

‘I wasn’t going to give you sex.  I’m a professional, please try to trust me.’

I felt ridiculous, arguing with this woman in a plastic hood but I didn’t want to take it off.

‘I’m sorry mistress.  I know you are.’

She nodded and reached over to stroke my arm.

‘That’s right, Mr. Chambers.  Now, please try to be a good slave.  You’ll get much more out of our sessions if you learn to lose those inhibitions.’

‘Are you charging me extra for this therapy?’

She crawled toward me, smirking.

‘What kind of a question is that, slave?’

‘It’s a client’s question.  Answer me, please.’

‘Am I not worth extra?’  She jibed.

‘What kind of an answer is that?’

I stroked her long, shiny brown hair, running it between my fingers.

‘The answer of a mistress to her slave.’

The loss of any control I might have stolen over this situation to her made sexual energy thrill through me like a jab of a sword through my gut.

‘Lie down, like I told you in the first place.’

I did it.  I stared at the ceiling through the unzipped slits in the mask.  She clipped cold metal, tight around my wrists and ankles.  Her thighs gripped my ribs as she straddled me and they were damp with her juices.  I wriggled because I couldn’t help but mistrust her.  With a pussy as wet as that, anything could happen but I did not speak up.  She zipped my eyes shut.  Her weight disappeared from across my chest and she walked away.  I waited in darkness, listening to her heels clicking across the kitchenette.  Goose bumps tingled up the inside of my raised arms.

‘I’m going to brand you.’  She announced.

I jumped, rattling my chains.  I had not heard her enter.

‘You’re going to do what?!’  I shouted.

Panic flushed all over my spread body.

‘I’m going to brand you.’

I felt the mattress dip next to me as she lent against it.  I tested my bonds but they were secure.

‘You’ll have to kill me as well as brand me.  If I get out of these handcuffs, I’m going to slit your fucking throat and watch you bleed out on my shoes.’

‘I don’t think I like your attitude.’

Her knuckles bit into my cheek as she slammed her hand across my face.  I began to struggle ferociously.  My ankle bones were shot through with the agony of bruising, the rattling and clanking was unbearably loud.

‘You can’t escape, they’re locked, Victor.’

I knew that this was true but still I struggled.

‘Time out!  Time out!  I mean it!’

A sizzling sound, like the drip of fat onto a barbecue coal came from my right.

‘Oh, it’s hot enough, then.’

My whole body writhed.  I didn’t care about the crushing pain in my wrists and ankles.  The darkness closed around me like the inside of a giant’s fist.

‘Time out!  You bitch.’

‘No more time out for you.’

The sizzling again, this time closer.

‘Fuck!’ I screamed.

‘I think I will begin by branding your balls.’  She stated, calmly.

‘I’m going to fucking sue you for every penny.  I’m make sure you get a sadistic pimp who gives you clients with STDs whilst you live on the street.’  I babbled.

‘It may well make you impotent.’  She continued smoothly.

‘He’ll beat you senseless every morning so you can only get the meanest, ugliest clients.’

‘I’m going to do it now.  Please stay still and be quiet.’

‘The fuck I won’t.’

I made a last dire attempt to escape, almost pulling my elbows apart at the joint.

‘If you struggle, I might get your cock as well.’

My body seemed suddenly paralysed but I continued to roar out screams of terror.  As she applied it, the sensation was indeed unbearable.  An immense ache flashed up into my gut, splitting me in two.  My screams reached their most intense peak.  She held it there and held it there.  There would be nothing left of me.  I could see it in my mind, red hot and glowing, pressed against me. 

Then as suddenly as the sensation had started, it stopped.  She unzipped my eyes.  The first thing that I saw was a pan on top of a gas camping stove with a glass of water next to it.  I turned my head to look up at her, gaping in fear and agony.  Beth was grasping a large ball of ice in her fist.  It dripped down her arm and onto the bed, melted by my body heat.  The smile that sliced her face was pure evil.  I let out a gasp of humiliation.  It was all I could manage to whisper;

‘You bitch, you bitch, you bitch.’  Sharply, under my breath.

She dropped the ice into its mould and uncuffed me.  I sat as son as I was able and slouched miserably, my feet on the floor.  Beth sat behind me and wrapped her soft arms around me.  Her warm breasts pressed either side of my spine.  Her mouth was against my neck.  I felt an ache form in my throat.  I blinked back tears and bit my lip.

‘I’m sorry, Beth.’

She rubbed my arms, slowly up and down with her chilled palms. 

‘Mr. Chambers, I mean, Victor, if you need to cry, I…don’t mind.’

At this, I pulled off the mask.  Silent tears slid down my cheeks and tasted of salt between my lips.  I put my head in my hands.

‘I should have let go.  I should have trusted you, as you asked.’

‘It’s alright, Victor, perhaps I shouldn’t have done that to you yet.  I don’t usually do it so soon to my slaves.  It must have been a shock to you.’

I hunched my shoulder suspiciously.

‘Why are you talking to me like that?’

When I turned she was hugging her knees to her chest and she refused to look me in the eye.  I frowned at her.

‘If you really want to know why then meet me at three in the café down the road, tomorrow.’

I stared at her a bit longer but she did not shift.  It was clear that I was dismissed.  I went into the lounge and snatched up my trousers from where they had languished for the last two hours between the coffee table and the couch.  As I pulled them on, I kicked a pile of books off the cluttered table.

‘Shit!’  I hissed, stooping to pick them up.

‘Are you ok?’

‘Fine!’

I didn’t want to see her.  I just wanted to leave.  To scour the filthy weakness from my pores with a shower so hot that it will send me cooked lobster red.  Her head and shoulder popped around the doorframe.

‘You know…It’s ok Victor.  Please don’t run off like this.  Have some tea with me.’

I gave up on stacking the books and pulled out my wallet.

‘There’s your fee.’

I waved the money but she wouldn’t step forward so I put it under the ashtray.  The end of a spliff was degrading in filth, there.

‘It’s under the ashtray as usual.’

She disappeared into her bedroom.

‘Did you hear me?’  I called.

‘I fucking heard you!’  She screamed.

I didn’t see her but the bedroom door slammed.  I stared guiltily at the pile of books strewn over the floor and chewed my lip.  I sighed and pulled out an extra hundred punds for her.  As I closed the bed sit door behind me and headed down the stairs her voice echoed after me.  She was crying.

Journal: Female Edging

Oh how I love to be edged!

The practise of teasing a woman almost to orgasm and then stopping, letting her calm down and starting again may seem counter intuitive to some. After all, don't women (and their partners) have to work hard to achieve a female orgasm? Isn't the frustration too much to ask any woman to bear? Well these are just some of the reasons that I love to be edged. I love it so much that at times when I have had no one else to edge me, I have edged myself.

In my tawdry scouting for internet porn on rainy Sunday afternoons, I tend to come across an awful lot of male edging porn, blogs and chastity information and devices. I find my search slightly more difficult when I get picky and look for female edging porn and sites. I may be a straight woman but I love this fetish so much that I will happily watch a woman do it to another woman (though i prefer to watch a male edger with a female edgee) for the sheer joy of watching a woman being edged. The fetish overrides the sex of those involved. I love imagining myself suffering in the place of the woman being edged, the tickle and spike of every feathery touch, the pulsing and swelling of the clit and the deep continuous ache for orgasm.
I have noticed that there seem to be several 'levels' of edging (at least with men being edged). There seems to be Tie & Tease which involves several close edges followed by an orgasm, Tease and Denial which involves teasing and edging without any release and then there's chastity play which involves the use of a chasitiy belt or device for short or long term wear. It seems that chastity play is often used in conjunction with cuckolding for the male cuckold to add to his desperation and humiliation. Another fetish that seems to be related to edging appears to be tickling, one of my own personal favourites!

I think that I have a good coping mechanism for dealing with physical pain. Sometimes, I think my coping mechanism is almost too good and my mind will take me off somewhere, out of the moment and out of my body. This can be really wonderful if that's what I need at the time. I mention this because I don't think I have any similar coping mechanism for an overload of pleasure. When I am being teased, I am right there in the moment, just me and him. All that fills my mind is the pull of the restraints on my wrists and ankles, the lift and fall of my chest and the pull between my legs, made so huge in my mind that if I open my eyes, I am surprised that my entire torso has not turned into a cunt. I love those moments just before orgasm where all experience centres to a tiny point of bright, hard light, my cunt lips weep for release and my clit writhes with a will of its own. I feel so truly alive in those moments.

So that's the metaphysical, onto some practical ideas which all require plenty of lube, saliva and patience (from both partners):
- Tie her down on her front, legs spread, prop her hips up with a pillow, then you can sit comfortably between her legs and stroke, massage and tickle her genitals without letting her come for as long as you wish.
- Get her excited and then tie her legs together and then work on what you can see/get to of her genitals and stimulate her body elsewhere.
- Put two pairs of pants on her with a vibrator on top of them and then another pair of pants to hold it in place. Tie her down and watch the show or stroke and tease her elsewhere.
- From cold, before arousal, stroke only the parts of her genitals that open up to you, only as they open eg. to start just the outer lips, then the inner lips, around the clitoris and so on. Wait until the clitoris is really hard and pulsing before touching it very gently.

What are your thoughts on edging? Do you have any other games you want to share that you play?

News: Achtung Fetish

I am delighted to confirm that my writing has just been published on the website www.achtingfetish.com

I have written a narrative for a photoset with the hot fetish model Madison Young.  The story includes anal probes, O ring gags and there is a graphic and kinky surprise at the end for Achtung Fetish subscribers.

Article: BDSM on a Budget

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Erotic novel sample chapter: The Devil's Plaything

She drew back from me her face falling into a serious frown. I felt my shoulders hunch up and clung to the shelf behind me.
‘Perhaps we should talk later. Lou’s a bit busy and I’m trying to help out.’ I squirmed.
She reached up to my throat and slipped a finger underneath my collar.
‘Now!’
Chez led me across the club, my chin held high with her hand beneath it. Some of the patrons stared but most shrugged and turned away. She pushed me onto a sofa and perched on a coffee table in front of me. I took in the frilled white blouse and pencil skirt, flared at the bottom into a fish tail. Her make up was immaculate but I could see the face behind it had gone loose.
‘Do you still want to leave us, Becky?’
Chez stretched out and put her hand on my knee. It felt no more like a human touch to me than the scrape of the edge of a desk on my knee in my lectures. I clamped my hands together in my lap and fixed my eyes on them. I shook my head with a tiny movement.
‘You know, I want you to be happy but if you want my help then you must follow my lead. Look at me when I’m talking to you.’ She demanded though not unkindly.
I lifted my head and looked past her ear.
‘I do follow you lead, Chez.’
She threw her hands up.
‘I despair with you, really I do.’
I shrugged and picked up a cushion from the sofa. I wrapped it in my arms, tightly. I assumed she was looking for an apology but I felt stubborn. The zip of the cushion cover scratched against my thumb.
‘I don’t want you to see that man in the balaclava again. He’s nothing but trouble.’
I looked her in the eye.
‘I know he’s trouble…but why? Why don’t you want me to see him again?’
She grabbed both my shoulders and shook me.
‘Because I say so or is that not good enough for you anymore?’
‘At least Satan’s Bitch took me out somewhere.’
She blinked fast and looked up as if holding back tears. I decided to press my advantage.
‘You just ignore me, why should I listen to you?’
Chez nodded slowly.
‘You know, if you don’t start treating me-‘
‘Satan’s Bitch?’ She interjected, cutting me off short, ‘Is that what he’s calling himself nowadays?’ She rolled her head around, caught in a fit of nostalgia, ‘I never expected him to take things so seriously.’
I placed the cushion by my side, moving slowly as if watching a bird feeding that I did not wish to disturb. If I was careful she might reveal more details.
‘We were young before it happened, in our twenties. I think I was only eighteen.’ She looked up at me with a thin smile, ‘About your age, Rebecca.’
She held out her hand, the red painted nails glistening in the candlelight, darkly as if dipped in blood and beckoned me. I lent forward, hesitantly and her finger slipped through the ring dangling from my collar. I shuddered and all my muscles stiffened.
‘I suppose you want to know what I’m talking about.
She tugged on the collar until we were cheek to cheek. My pussy slicked and I dug my nails into my palms to distract myself from the tingle between my legs. Her lip grazed the top of my ear.
‘It has to do with Simon, Satan’s Bitch and me but if you are planning on leaving my house then it would be folly to say much more.’
Chez released me. She lent back, crossing her legs with a self-satisfied smirk. My jaw was shaking, my teeth rattling in my head in frustration.
‘I’m not interested, in any case.’ I lied, folding my arms.
Chez laughed and brushed her hand lightly through her short hair.
‘I’ve already told Louise and Sue all about it on one of drunken girlies. You know how it is. I shouldn’t really have let it slip at all.’
‘Perhaps not.’ I snapped, my knees twitching to stand and walk away.
‘It’s ok with Louise and Sue, of course, I trust them.’ She continued tauntingly, ‘I know it probably doesn’t feel fair to you but it’s more difficult to talk to you about this. Please don’t take offence but you’re so moody and unpredictable that I never know whether you are staying or going.’
‘I do take offence, actually!’
Chez patted my knee and left her hand resting there.
‘Don’t be silly, dear, I do like that about you, it’s quite endearing. It’s not that I think you are being dishonest, I just think that you don’t really know your own mind.’
‘That’s not true. I don’t need you. You need me! I can look after myself, Chez.’
She looked down at her hand and began to slide it upwards, over my stockings, toward my dripping cunt. My legs were caught in spasm. I wanted to be strong, to stand and walk away from this bitch. I imagined the impact of my hand on her cheek, the wobble of the turkey flesh developing at her neck with age, the smear of make up that it would leave on my palm but instead of taking action, I buried my hands beneath my thighs to trap them. I imagined standing in one smooth motion, leaving her reeling, turning my back and walking to the stairs with my head held high but instead I clenched my buttocks, straining for her touch.
‘Legs apart, Becky.’ She reminded me.
Chez scratched lightly up my thigh to my knickers. Using a single fingernail, she scraped the material covering my throbbing clitoris to give the lightest vibration. I bit my lip.
‘I’m sorry, you were saying?’
I opened my mouth to reply but all that came out was a sigh.
‘Something about being able to look after yourself.’
‘I can’t remember.’ I replied.
I lolled back against the sofa, relishing her excruciating touch. Everything faded into the background and there was only her finger on my clitoris with that frustrating layer of material between me and satisfaction. Then, the tattoo of heavy platform boots on the stairs and unexpectedly, the crinkle of plastic. I opened my eyes, abandoning all hope of achieving any kind of orgasm.
‘Hi there, you boring party poopers.’ Grinned Louise, ‘Look what I found!’
She held up two large plastic vacuum bags, like the ones that my Gran used to pack all her furs in the Summer before they went up the loft.
‘What an interesting find.’
Chez took her hand out from between my legs and reached for the bag.
‘You’re not claustrophobic, are you, Rebecca?’ Louise quizzed, one eyebrow raised.
I shook my head, silently. I did not know what they were planning but I wasn’t sure that I was going to enjoy it. Louise pulled me out of my seat and handcuffed me, joining my hands in front of me. As they walked me down the stairs, back into the dungeon, I wondered why I hadn’t learned from my last experience, why I didn’t say no, why I didn’t fight them. I walked to the middle of the floor with a bowed head, my ginger curls covering my face, acting as blinkers from the gaze of the onlookers. Louise placed the vacuum bag on the sticky, black dance floor and smoothed it out.
‘Get into the bag.’
I shook the hair out of my eyes.
‘Why? What are you going to do once I’m in the bag?’
Chez picked up a vacuum cleaner hose and brandished it as a country gentleman would brandish a walking stick at a young scallywag. The sooner I got in the bag, the sooner this would all be over. People were watching now, turning their backs on the bar and gazing down at me. I pulled the bag apart at the plastic zip, my knee holding down the side. I assessed its size and decided that I would fit if I curled up, tight. I turned and backed into it awkwardly and slowly. It crunched around me like Autumn leaves underfoot. I settled myself on my side and drew my knees to my chest. The plastic was slick and smelt slightly sweet as though the last person to be engulfed by it had been covered in baby oil. Already, the air in the bag was boiling around my body and felt close and hot at my mouth. Chez’s hand appeared with a length of rubber tubing, poking toward my mouth.
‘Wrap your lips around this, Becks.’
Her voice sounded far away. I took the tube into my mouth and gripped it between my teeth.
‘Put your hands between your legs.’ Instructed Louise with a smirk.
I cringed inside but wriggled until my cuffed hands were wedged between my thighs. The faces of the club goers gazed down at me through the plastic as though I was underwater and they were looking down on me from dry land. I felt like an exotic fish in a tank at a dentist’s surgery. My pussy was hot from Chez’s teasing. I couldn’t resist wiggling my thumb over my clitoris and feeling myself swell. The nozzle appeared near my face and the whir of the vacuum cleaner made me jump as it began to suck the air from around me. The plastic folded in slowly at first but then as the last of the air was sucked away it welded itself to my skin, hugging in around my thighs and tight across my face. Chez pulled the zip closed. Louise poked me in the leg with the toe of her boot,
‘Frig yourself.’ She shouted, her voice far away as if I was in a swimming pool.
The crowd had drawn closer to watch the scene. Their smiles were twisted into terrifying leers by the plastic lens through which I viewed them. I tensed and wanted to pull my hands away but the plastic was too tight.
‘Come on, Ruby.’ Chez urged, kneeling beside me.
I brushed my fingers lightly against myself at first. Two women stepped out from the crowd and knelt down. They brushed their gloved hands against the plastic, sliding with firm hot pressure against my sweat slicked skin. I pressed the side of my thumb hard against my sex and ground my hips into it, my eyes squeezed shut. My arousal built, buzzing in my head and my groin. I became aware of a sucking sound and realised as my mouth dried out and my lungs ached that I was sucking hard on rubber breathing tube clenched between my teeth.
‘This is taking too long.’ I heard Louise comment.
Chez bent close to me and bit my ear. Her teeth felt weird and the plastic was cold and wet like a neglected bathroom wall. Goosebumps prickled all over my left hand side.
‘If you don’t come after ten more seconds, I’m going to take away your breathing tube.’ She told me and then she addressed the gathered crowd, ‘Count down with me!’
They complied, their voices raised together, Louise and Chez’s voices rising above the rest. ‘Ten – nine – eight,’
She gave the tube a little tug, I gripped it hard with my teeth but it slipped against them. I could not move my head. My juices mixed with perspiration beading between my thighs, soaking my knickers.
‘Seven – six – five,’
I rubbed frantically but the closer orgasm came, the more I sucked on the tube and the more aware I was that my air supply was about to disappear.
‘Four – three – two,’
I bit down on the tube but when I sucked on it, no air came to me, I had closed off the hollow of the tube. I choked and released it.
‘One!’
Chez yanked the tube from my mouth and zipped the bag shut. My pussy twitched helplessly. My orgasm rolled to an ache and dissipated. My body was so hot, as if I had fallen asleep in a sauna. The crowd was silent. I lay still and stared at the beer bottle rolling away from me across the sticky club floor. I wondered if I should put a message in the bottle to send for help. It was as still and quiet as the sea in there and as hot as hell. The unwelcome thought came to me that suffocating in a vacuum bag on the floor of a night club would be an absolutely stupid way to die and would look hilariously ridiculous on a death certificate. I closed my eyes and let out a tiny bit of breath to try to sustain myself. The noise started again and it felt unwelcome, I was so comfortable, so still.
‘Let her out of there!’
The zip was pulled open and clean air as cold as mint flooded into my lungs. My body took gasps of it. I opened my eyes, though, I hadn’t been aware I had closed them. It was like a tape re-starting after pause. Perhaps I had fainted. I bent double and threw up on my rescuer’s shoes.
‘What are you doing here?’ Chez asked. Her voice was higher than usual, her words slower to come to her.
I looked up into a white hockey mask on top of a tall body. He was wearing leather jeans and nothing on his top half. Though the mask was different this time, I would remember Satan’s Bitch anywhere.
‘Sir! Thank you!’
I reached out to touch him but Louise grabbed me from behind, wrapping a towel around my shoulders. It was welcome, I had started to shiver.
‘Come on, sit down, you need a cup of tea.’
My groin ached with sexual frustration. A cup of tea would be lovely but an orgasm would be better. I reached out to him again but her fingers dug into my shoulder, cold and hard.
‘Down, girl.’
She pushed me into a corner, behind the St. Andrew’s cross. There was one bright tea light shining through a jar that sat at the foot of the cross. Its soft glow captivated my attention. The smoke had dusted the inside of the jar diffusing the bright fire into a dying sunset. The crowd did not follow us; they were watching Chez and Satan’s Bitch square off at each other.
‘Stay there space cadet. Tea coming up.’
Louise sloped off to the bar leaving me huddled there, candle in the foreground the crowd behind it. I could just see their shoes, SB’s sulking army boots faced by Chez’s prim heels.
‘You know I don’t like to be questioned.’ I heard him grunt, finally in reply to Chez.
‘I just wasn’t expecting you to come to a place like this.’ She muttered.
‘I came to talk to Mr. Hancock. Where is Simon?’
‘Simon doesn’t want to speak to you, especially after the message you left him in his flat the other day. I presume it was you that left Ruby in that state and not some other pervert that you got to act on your behalf.’ Chez’s words were strong but her tone wavered and she coughed.
At the mention of the incident, being chained to the radiator and degraded by all of them, tears sprang to my eyes but my pussy twitched and then clenched hard around the void that teased it.
‘That’s a lie, Madam. Simon does want to speak to me but he is too much of a fucking coward to do so. I will find him, with or without your help.’
I was almost in a trance, floating with fairies that lapped my sweat shivering skin with their tiny tongues and drank my tears like absinthe. The sulking army boots tramped toward me and then I was grabbed and lifted over his shoulder.
‘Simon’s in love with her, isn’t he? I’ll take her and then Simon will come to me and we can sort out our business.’
I could feel SB’s voice rumbling through him. His shoulder dug into my belly.
‘No, sir, please leave Ruby alone. Louise! Louise!’
She turned from the bar, her plait whipping over her shoulder like an angry snake, a mug of tea in each hand. With just a stride in her strapped up thigh high boots she was at his side.
‘My mistress says let her go.’
His mask scratched my leg as he turned to her. Suddenly the ground seemed a long way down. He laughed in her face, wobbling me precariously. When the scalding tea stung the back of my thigh, I screamed, as I hit the floor, I stopped, winded and pulling nothing into my lungs.
‘Now go or I’ll throw the other one over you.’
‘You’re not worth it, any of you!’ He spat, ‘I want to speak to Simon, that’s all. And you –‘
He pulled me onto my back. I gazed into the white mask, tears running freely across my cheeks and pooling in the curl of my ear.
‘You need to learn to break fall.’
‘Get out of here!’ Screamed Chez, her composure finally deserting her.
‘I’m going…for now but once I’ve spoken to Simon I will have to see about what to do with you and your motley crew.’
The gaze that passed between Louise and Satan’s Bitch as he walked away could have looked like love in its intensity, if the blisters hadn’t already been rising like miniature volcanoes on his chest from the tea. The door thumped behind him. There was silence for a moment and then the club goers collapsed in on me, stroking me, kissing my hair, pulling the blanket tight around me. All I could do was stare at the door and wish he would come back.

Short Story: Innocence Collared

First published in 'Scene Magazine'

Aamil stepped into a narrow alley and leant his head back against the dusty wall.  His friends were back at the hotel, sleeping off the affects of a zibib hangover.  Their behaviour had embarrassed him in front of the locals at the bar last night.  Demeaning the middle-aged belly dancer whilst imbibing too much of the local tipple seemed to come as second nature to them.  They knew he wouldn’t drink because of his religion but they always had to push it and now Aamil did not feel like getting them another cup of apple tea.  He had slipped out and left the fetid hotel room to their wretching.  Although he knew he would find them at the drink again as soon as the sun started to go down.  This holiday to Cairo was a mistake.
Aamil had hoped that the ally would give some relief from the midday sun but the heat absorbed throughout the morning now oozed from the bricks like starch from cooked rice.  He turned a corner, hoping to find some refuge from the traffic honk mania of the street.  In the dead end there were market stalls with blue and red canopies draped like flags, fading under the sun.  A white, canvas tent hung in the corner.  He wandered up to the closest stall, piled high with fruit and vegetables.  He wondered if he could get a watermelon slice to alleviate the roasted peanut dryness of his mouth.
‘Anything I can help with?’
Warm skin brushed against his bare arm and gold bangles clinked.  He looked up into her almond shaped eyes, huge and rimmed with khol black lashes.  She wore a shiny belly-dancing outfit but she looked much better in it than the woman that his friends had teased last night.  She put her finger under his chin, ruffling his beard and gently pushed his mouth closed.
‘Anything at all?’
She picked up a carrot from the stall.  It was bulbous, shaped like a cock.  Her pink tongue emerged slowly from between her full lips and she licked its stem gazing into his eyes.  Laughter bubbled in his chest but he let it out as a harsh cough.  He looked down, wondering what his family would say or do in this situation.  They would be ashamed to see this.  He shuffled thinking that he should walk away but as he looked down, he noticed that all the vegetables were shaped like genitals.  If not naturally that way, they were carved or arranged deliberately into those shapes; aubergines arranged with strategically placed plums, sweating asparagus tips, watermelons with cherries pinned to the arc of their swelling.  He felt fascination grip him like a vice stopping him in his tracks.  He heard himself say;
‘I would like some watermelon, please.’
She stretched out her hand to him.  He felt like he would remember every line on her palm.
‘We have some already sliced, inside.  Come with me, sir.’
Aamil took her hand, barely caring that his was clammy and she led him, almost staggering past the other stalls.
As she towed him behind her past the other stalls he noticed that one stall was loaded with images of nude women, both painted and photographed.  The next stall was covered with leather restraints and all types of whip and the other with provocative costumes, which gleamed like the shell of a beetle.
‘Is this the red light district?  I didn’t mean to wander this way.  I just want some watermelon!’
He let go of her hand but she grinned like a predator and grabbed his wrist.
‘If you need refreshment, come with me.’
His legs felt tired, his head swam in the heat and her full buttocks swayed magnificently.  He let her lead him into the tent.  He sighed in the cool shade and waited for the graininess to clear from his vision after the brightness of the outside world.
‘Take your sandals off.’  She instructed.
He frowned at her lack of manners but gratefully accepted her order when he saw the lush Arabian patterned carpet underfoot.
‘I don’t want a carpet.  Do you understand me?  I just want some fruit.’
She smirked at him and pulled off her headscarf, allowing her black hair to curl down to her waist, flowing like black treacle.  She raised her chinking bangle covered arm and clicked her fingers.  He shrugged and backed away, panic fluttering in him like a newly caged bird.
‘I don’t have enough money on me for these and besides; my baggage allowance wouldn’t be enough for a carpet.  There’s no need to fetch anyone else.’  He babbled.
Two girls, younger than the first stepped into the tent from behind him.  They grasped his arms above the elbow.  The fingers of their cool hands dug into him as they drove him into the doorway and across the carpet.  The black haired woman laughed and stepped backwards, motioning with her hands as if pulling him on a rope.  They pushed him into a mountain of silk cushions at the side of the tent.  Aamil landed face first and they giggled as he righted himself.  He brushed off his shoulders, sulking because of their rough treatment.   He tucked his feet under aiming to stand and leave but the woman put her hand heavily on his shoulder.
‘No, you must stay.  We have things to show you.’  Her hand crept up the back of his neck and into his hair like a spider and then her fist clenched, pulling his head back by the roots of his hair, ‘I am Safwah and these are my young pupils Lunah and Tanisha.  You are just what we have been waiting for.’
Safwah stretched back to her girl, still holding him by the hair.  The girl handed her a short strip of leather with a buckle.  Aamil felt its rough edges as she fastened it around his neck.  His hands flew up to it pulling on it to search for the buckle but she quickly attached a padlock that hung in the hollow of his throat.
‘What do you want of me?’  He demanded half angry, half whining.
‘Almost done.’  She mused, fastening a lead to the collar on his neck, ‘There, you will do.’
Safwah handed the end of the lead to the one she had called Tanisha.
‘For me?’ gasped Tanisha, accepting the lead with reverence.
The other girl folded her arms and tossed her head proudly.
‘You can hold him for now, Tanisha but he is for all of us to play with.  Don’t worry Lunah you will have your turn too.’
Aamil felt too flustered to simply take the lead off the collar.  He held his hands out to them,
‘What on earth is going on?  Have you mistaken me for someone else?  What do you want?’  He pleaded.
Aamil fidgeted, fighting the instinct to try to get to his feet once more.  He knew that he would only be pushed down.  Safwah turned to him and put her finger on his lips.
‘Shh!  Little one, just relax and enjoy our company for now.  Sit back, please.’
Lunah and Tanisha sat down on either side of him.  Tanisha still had his lead looped over her wrist.  They each took one of his hands and shuffled into place.  They put his hands high up between their legs.  The silks there were already damp and heat pulsed from both of them into his cupped palms.
‘Open your mouth.’ Ordered Safwah.
He did as she requested and she poured water into him from a canteen.  She splashed some over herself and shook herself off, water droplets flying from her hair like spray from a waterfall.  Safwah began to dance, humming to herself as she did so.  The girls joined her, creating an eerie lilt that harmonised in the still air.  Safwah’s bare torso writhed and bucked as water mixed with sweat ran in rivulets across her taut stomach.  The girls swayed, rubbing their aroused pussies on the heels of his hands, becoming hotter than he would have though possible without reaching boiling point, their tune became a groan as they lost themselves to arousal.  Aamil shifted, trying to get comfortable as his cock rose in his trousers, rubbing against the tight material.  He stared at Safwah, unable to unglue himself from the peculiar situation he found himself in.  Lunah grabbed him by the beard and turned his head toward her.
‘Little one, watch this!’  She smiled.
She let his hand drop from between her thighs and knelt down in front of her mistress.
‘I want to play with the new toy.’ Lunah looked up at her belly-dancing mistress.
‘Well, lets see if you can impress me and him and maybe I will let you.’
Tanisha pulled her waistband away from herself and placed Aamil’s hand on her shaved smooth pussy lips.  He tried to pull his and away but she shook her head and pulled his hand down by the wrist with a smile.  As soon as his fingers started to slide on her oily wetness he dug into her with a grunt, his shame deserting him, his cock leaking.
‘Look at Safwah.’  Tanisha pointed.
Safwah was naked now, from the waist down.  Her wide trousers lay in a blue silken pool to her side.  Lunah slurped on her mistress, whirling her tongue into the folds of her pussy.  Safawah’s knees buckled and her head hung back.  She steadied herself by pulling Lunah’s head into her.  She rested both her hands on the girl’s head and thrust herself back and forth.  Her eyes were squeezed shut.  Aamil’s finger found Tanisha’s vagina, she yelped with pleasure as she pushed her burning, tight muscles over his finger.  He could feel the slick tightness contracting.  Safwah shouted as she came on Lunah’s face, pussy juices ran down the inside of her thighs and sprayed into a dark patch on the carpet between her feet.
‘How good was that?’  Asked Lunah, still on her knees.
Safawah straightened up.
‘I would say almost too good, girl.’ She stepped around her disappointed servant and approached Aamil, ‘I need to fuck him now but don’t worry, I won’t leave you cold.’
Aamil felt goose bumps rise in a wave along his arms and a cold dribble of sweat trickled from under the collar and snaked down his back.  He pulled his hand away from Tanisha.  His cock lost its erection.
‘I don’t want to fuck anyone.  Look, girls, it’s been great…’
‘He’s mine at the moment!’ Interrupted Tanisha.
She brandished the lead.
‘I want to go first!’  Complained Lunah
‘Stop it, all of you!  I’m a virgin!’  Shouted Aamil.
There was a pause as all the girls looked at him, their mouths little o’s of shock and delight.  All the women smiled at him and then glared at each other.  Tanisha grabbed him by the collar, Lunah grabbed the lead and Safwah fell down on top of him, straddling him.  She was the eldest and the strongest.  Safwah, slapped Tanisha who fell back clutching her stinging cheek.  She ripped Lunah’s headscarf off and grasped her by the hair.
‘Behave, both of you.’ She hissed, ‘Remember who you belong to.’
Safwah, let Lunah go and set to unzipping Aamil’s trousers.
‘Now, look, Safwah or whatever your name is,’ He attempted to reason, ‘Like I said, it’s been fun but…’
She pulled his trousers free of his legs, her face set with determination.  His cock and balls were exposed, stuck to his leg.  He felt himself flush from his chest to the tips of his ears.
‘Look, I’m not even hard at the moment.  I told you I wasn’t…’
‘Lunah, Tanisha, come here and show me what you have learned so far.’
Lunah crawled to him and grasped his cock at the base.  Her tongue bathed him and then she sucked on him.  His resistance failed him again as his cock grew hard in her mouth.  His left hand was pushed back between Tanisha’s thighs and this just served to increase his arousal.  Lunah’s mouth popped off the top of his now erect cock.  Safwah pushed Lunah away.
‘Get in position, girl.’
Lunah obediently took Aamil’s hand and put it on her bare pussy.  Lunah and Tanisha nodded to each other and Aamil felt them take his fingers up inside themselves together.  His cock bobbed in front of him.
‘Please…please…’ He mumbled but he was no longer sure what he wanted.
Safwah took his erection and rubbed the sensitive tip against her clitoris.  She moved and put him against the entrance to herself.
‘No, no!’
He blinked back tears.  His whole body shuddered, longing for her but he hated himself for it.  She slipped down with a smile and he was inside with one motion.  His heartbeat roared in his ears like the rush of a wave over him.
‘Your mouth says no but your body says yes.  I know which I prefer to listen to.’
He nodded, gasping like a fish out of water.
‘Now, here are the rules of the game, girls you listen up too.’  She bobbed up and down on him as she spoke, ‘If you can make the girls come before you do then I will happily let you come inside me and you can watch them get the thrashing they deserve.  If you come first, you take the thrashing.  Are we clear?’
The irritation showed on the girl’s faces but they nodded their agreement.  Safwah began to ride him hard, distracting him from his assigned task completely as her pussy gripped and stroked the entire length of him.
‘I can’t…’
‘Wriggle your fingers, like this.’
Safwah demonstrated a come hither motion with her index finger.  He tried it immediately and the girls both writhed and bucked.  Safwah cackled at their discomfort.  She gripped the flesh of his hips and drove herself ever harder onto him.  His breathing stuck in his throat and his mouth dried out.  His balls rose high up into him.  The inevitable surging feeling came over him, just like it did every time he wanked off.  He fought with himself, searching for something else to think about than the tight, flowing pussy that engulfed him and the writhing women on his hands but no other thoughts came to him.  She slowed her rhythm, teasing him at the point before his orgasm.  He teetered on the knife-edge of ejaculation, his body screaming in frustration.  Their voices rose together in a howl.  Their screams fed off each other like vampires.  Aamil gave in to the sensations and came into Safwah, his hips bucking fast and the scene behind his eyelids filled with white lights.  He felt the two girls on his hands spasm to the same rhythm and a split second later Safwah’s cunt sucked him up into her in waves of clenching that gave him overwhelming pleasure.  He opened his eyes to see that the women were grasping each other’s hands and his shoulders.  Their faces were flushed and passionate.
‘I suppose we all failed there.’ Smiled Safwah.
She levered herself up on her girls and he snaked out of her.  The girls took his hands from between their thighs.  Aamil sat back a moment, taking deep breaths.
‘Can we keep him?’  Asked Lunah,
‘Yes, please can we?’ Rejoined Tanisha.
Aamil looked around at them and then tried to stand.  The collar jerked on his neck and he was forced to his knees.  Safwah was holding the loop of the lead.  She looked into his eyes,
‘Do you wish to stay?’
He put his hand up to the padlock on the collar and shook his head.
‘I have to get back to my…my friends.’
The drunken, embarrassing antics of the night before seemed weeks ago in that moment.
‘You really want to leave us?’  Asked Tanisha.
The tent smelled of fresh sex and leather.  The colours of the bright carpets seemed to glow.  The women were beautiful in their sex tossed disarray.
‘I don’t, really.’
Lunah and Tanisha stroked his chest with painted fingernails, almost purring in their delight.
‘Wait a moment…Your friends?  Men or women?  How many of them?’  demanded Safwah.
‘Three men, why?’
‘Stop distracting him, girls!’
They moved away much to his disappointment.
‘Would they come here with you?  The three men?’
He nodded slowly, wondering which was the right answer to allow him to stay a little longer.
Before he could speak again, he had found himself outside the tent in the twilight, trousers bundled in his arms, collar still padlocked around his neck.
‘Bring them tomorrow.’  Safwah had ordered, before fastening the tent up with finality.
Aamil had walked back to the hotel slowly that evening, stopping to watch the blood red sunset descend over the tall buildings of the city.  He thought hard about how to get the guys to go to the women without embarrassing him but he was at a loss.  He was not even sure that it was safe but these concerns faded into insignificance when he touched the collar.  He did not know how he would explain it to them but no one could make him take it off now.

Short Story: The Deal

First published in Dominique Deville's anthology 'Dominance and Submission'
Subsequently published on 'Scene Magazine' website.

The Deal

It had been too easy for her to break and enter.  The house squatted like a giant toad, far beyond the rush of the city and the cosy normality of the suburbs that she was used to.  A converted barn planted alone.  The mezzanine floor, where she stood was smothered in darkness without even a crack of light showing beneath the heavy doors.  No aggressive farm dogs had clattered a signal of her presence as she moved through the shadows of the courtyard.  No friendly night watchman had come to take her by the shoulder and lead her firmly to the main road.
The back of the building was glass so the clear night glistered with vertigo inspiring depth above her.  As she gazed at the only constellation she knew, which looked like a saucepan to her but was apparently a bear, she ran through the places she had searched.  There was the large leather settee of the living room and the heavy oak desk in the office that yielded only loose change and a plastic toy from a long forgotten cracker.  She had opened drawers beneath the marble work surface in the kitchen and checked the cupboards of the antique sideboard in the dining room filled chiefly with single malt whiskeys.
She could not find the stash of heroin that her employer had sent her to recover.  There was no choice but to check the upstairs rooms.  She placed her hand on the cold globe of the doorknob.  The door caught on the thick pile of the carpet.  She slipped through the gap and into what seemed to be a master bedroom, equipped with a bed so draped and massive that it appeared as if it had grown there.  At a second glance she saw that there was lump under the bedspread.  Her breath stopped in her throat and her fists clenched as she realised that she had stumbled into a thief’s worst nightmare; an occupied room.
The covers undulated as slowly as a calm sea.  She shuffled forward barely raising her feet from the carpet.  She felt her way over the surface of the dressing table, picking up objects, a lighter, a candle, a bell and a picture in a frame.  No clues to the whereabouts of the heroin, nothing useful.  Her movements became hurried.  Her hands fluttered like desperate moths at the handles of the drawers, her mouth dried.
‘The sooner I can get out of here the better.’ She muttered to herself, stirring around amongst the hard plastic, dusty clutter of a forgotten drawer.
A weight landed on her shoulder, freezing her scurrying, rodent like scrabbling to the solidity of a block of cold steel.
‘Have you lost something?’
Her shoulder was gripped, then squeezed.  He turned her to face him.  Casually, he released her shoulder and reached past her, making her stumble to one side.  She recovered herself and made for the door, her hands reaching out in front of her.
‘I’d advise you not to go back that way.’  He commented as his lighter clicked and fizzed into life.
She spun round just a step from the door and almost stamped her foot in frustration.  If only she had made less noise she could have been back in her car by now.
‘What?  Why?’ She wailed.
He lit a candle on the dressing table and placed the lighter beside it.  She was about to run again but then she couldn’t help but stare at him.  The glow of candlelight coated him on one side as if he had been dipped in gold.  His jacket caught her attention as it wrapped him in silk.  It contrasted sharply with the military crop of his dark hair.  He put out his hand to her and the sleeve of the jacket swung free, touching her wrist.  It felt so cold.
‘May not a scoundrel give another scoundrel some helpful advice?  I think we can agree that neither of us would like the authorities involved.  Please, take my hand and come this way.’
He bowed his head slightly but his hand was still unflinching and steady, waiting for her.  Her own hand came up before her face and she watched it move to rest on top of his but she did not feel as if her will had put it there.  Her feet itched to run but as their skin touched, she was beguiled by the curious sensation of warm pins and needles that trickled into her palm and crawled up her arm.  He led her to the bed and sat her on the edge before seating himself in a stiff red leather armchair.
‘I think we need to talk.  I will get us some tea brought up.’
He rang a bell on the dressing table.
She clutched at the bedspread, shifting from buttock to buttock and chewing her lip.
‘Where’s the heroin?’  She demanded.
He placed his fingers together in a steeple, resting his elbows.
‘We cannot escape the fact that you have trespassed on my property.’
If only she could seduce him, perhaps he would come out with it she told herself.
‘Where are the drugs?’  She said more sweetly,
‘I think that gives me the right to ask the questions.’
Believing his tone to be defensive, she decided to threaten,
‘If you give them to me, I’ll go.  No one gets hurt.’
‘Whatever gave you the impression that I wanted you to leave?  To continue my earlier line of argument; you have come into my house uninvited, I think that gives me all the rights and you, exactly no rights.’
He held up his finger, touching thumb in an O to illustrate his point.
There was a rattling of a tray from outside the door.
‘Enter!’
The French maid costume on the girl produced a high sheen in the soft light as it was composed entirely of latex.  Her wrists were locked in leather cuffs attached by a chain and linked to the shackles on her ankles causing her to shuffle in very high heels.  Somehow she was keeping her balance and composure despite the hood that she wore, covering her eyes and mouth and the round tray she balanced on her left hand.  The maid reached out with her tray and her master took it.  He guided her by the elbow to the space between the bed and chair.
‘Down!’ he instructed.
The maid fell on to hands and knees.  She did not know how to take the bizarre scene.  He smirked at her.
‘This girl is multi-functional, you see.  I think the Georgians called it “transformational furniture” so it’s not such a modern idea.’
He placed the tray on the maid’s back and seated himself with a sigh.
‘A tea, if you please.  Black with one sugar.’
She wasn’t sure if he was talking to her though he stared into her eyes across the unusual place setting.
‘Come along.  I’m talking to you, not to the table.’
She snorted a laugh of incredulity.
‘Are you giving me an order?’
‘I am thirsty as I’m sure you are after your adventures.  You may help yourself too.’
She raised her arms and was about to fold them, her stomach burning with defiance.  He clapped suddenly.  She started; the maid rattled the tea things on her back.  A short but awkward silence followed which he broke with a growl,
‘I do not believe that I am asking too much from you.’
She got down from the bed and onto her knees, hating herself for complying but at a loss to know what else to do.  She shuffled over to the maid taking in the willow pattern tea set with strainer and the maid beneath.  A fine strip of velvet ran across the back of the neck like a collar or choker.  She poured from the teapot and the stream splashed unevenly into the teacup.  She heard a muffled squeal from the maid as it rained onto the back of her thigh.
‘Sorry.’  She whispered to her.
‘That’s quite alright.’ He interjected, ‘It’s your first time with me and you are nervous.  No, don’t hand it to me just put it on the tray.  I wouldn’t want to risk you spilling it all over me as well.’
He clasped his hands and looked at her unblinking.  She felt stared out and so poured herself a cup of tea as well before returning to perch on the bed.  He lifted the tray from the maid’s back and placed it on the floor.  He rested his feet, the latex creased around his heels.  He slurped his tea, the cup appearing like one from a doll’s tea set in his large hands.  On this cue, she felt compelled to do the same.
‘I understand that you are searching for a batch of heroin, hidden somewhere on my premises.  What gives you reason to believe that I have drugs here?’
She choked on the mouthful of tea.  She spluttered into her hand.
‘I don’t know if I believe it myself.  I mean, I er…I looked…everywhere.’
‘Did you really?  All without being discovered?’
She ground her teeth together and swallowed down more tea.  It felt like treacle on sawdust in her mouth.  She nodded in response.
‘I suppose you thought it was quite peculiar that no one came to apprehend you.’
She looked at the tea leaves in the bottom of the cup so thoughtfully that it seemed she was trying to read them.
‘I did think that, actually.’
He transferred himself to sit beside her on the bed, setting the tea things on the floor.  The maid struggled to her feet and went to stand like an eerie mannequin in the corner of the room.  She flinched as he placed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
‘I was expecting you would have some dogs or someone patrolling the outbuildings at least.’  She stated, shuffling back from him.
‘Well, I do at the moment.’ He replied in a measured tone.
She tapped her foot nervously.  This comment struck her as ominous.  He grasped her chin.  She looked down at her jeans.
‘Who sent you?’
She shrugged and picked at a piece of hard skin that had formed on a scar in her palm for comfort.
‘Answer me.’  His tone was still cool, still inviting.
She remembered the shard of glass that had caused wound from a window that she had broken to enter but not cleared properly.
‘Thief!’
She looked into his eyes, so close and so dark they appeared like pits rather than windows to a soul.
‘That’s right, you may look at me on this one occasion.  Now answer my question.  Who sent you?’
She could see individual hairs in his beard, a dry piece of skin on his lip and the taut sinews of his neck.
‘I won’t tell you who sent me.’
He drew back from her, his eyelids half closed, his lips pursed.  She expected him to shout or to lash out.  If he had, she would have run.  When she dared to look up again, she was transfixed by the way a dimple appeared on his cheek as he smiled.  The warmth of his approval melted through her.
‘I hoped that you would say that.’
He clicked his fingers and the maid came forward from the shadows.  He lifted her and popped her onto his lap, pinning her arms by her sides.  The last thing that she saw was the maid’s plump lips as she took off the hood.  It was pulled down by both of them, over her head.  She began to struggle but they pushed her down into the bed and her arms were stretched above her head.  Then came the chill bite of metal cuffs on her wrists and ankles, the jangle of the chains and the snap of the ratchet that rendered her helpless.  He placed a warm hand on her soft belly, below her navel.
‘Be calm, my dear.’
Her mind ran back over the last hours, focusing on all the opportunities that she had, had to run but remembering that she had chosen not to.  She relaxed against the cuffs, despite herself, succumbing to his touch.
‘That’s right, you will do yourself an injury before you escape these.  Relax, I can see you are already getting some nasty bruises from your writhing.’
His fingers worked down the buttons of her shirt, probing into her.  Her bra was lifted from her breasts.
‘They are beautiful.’
His tongue so slippery and delicate rimmed her nipples.  As they hardened his tongue flicked against them.  She bucked her hips as her feelings of shame were masked with passion but he pushed her into the bed.
‘All in good time.  Maid, pass me the clamps.’
‘Don’t hurt me!’ She squealed, grappling with her restraints.
She tossed her head from side to side, trying to escape the hood.  She heard a grumble of laughter from him.  The stern clamps were fixed on her tight nipples.  A spike of pain broke through the haze that seemed to have clouded her thoughts.
‘Who sent you?’  He asked, raising his voice.
She could hear her own voice crying out incoherently but it seemed distant.
‘Very well, perhaps some pleasure to go with that pain might help you to remember.’
The sound of a zip and suddenly light.  She looked through the holes in the mask, down the milky pink of her own body.  He was holding a feather.
‘What are you doing?’  She demanded.
He ran the feather over her ribs, making her squirm.  The clamps wobbled on top of her breasts like silver beetles.
‘Enjoying myself.’ He mused, trailing the feather in a figure of eight around her tits.
The combination of warm, dulled pain from the clamps and the tease of the feather made it seem as though sparklers were lighting up just in the periphery of her vision.  She made animal sounds.  Her pussy grew and rubbed against the seam of her jeans.  He persisted, mercilessly, humming to himself.
‘Please stop.’  She cried, ‘I’ll tell you what I know.’
He removed the clamps carefully, making her sigh with relief.
‘I hoped that would take longer.’
He pulled the hood up so it strained around her forehead.
‘What would you like to say to me?’
‘I don’t know very much.  It was an anonymous caller.  I’m for hire you see, it has nothing to do with me.’
He cocked his head to one side.  She pushed herself up on her elbows, hoping that this would give her more credibility.
‘People hire me to reacquire their stolen items.  It’s what I’m good at.’
He placed his hand between her legs, sensing and feeding the heat there.  She let out a tiny mewl.
‘I have to meet her at five in the morning in town with the goods.  If you don’t let me go…’
His hand wormed its way beneath her belt, stroking over her mound and diving between her swollen labia.
‘Do you really want to go?’
He manipulated her clitoris, pinching it between his fingers, making her long for a firmer pressure.
‘Please!’
‘Please what?’
Her wetness made his fingers skim over the hard flesh, strumming her like an oiled marble.
‘Please make me come.’
He pulled his hand away abruptly leaving her gulping down air and her heart racing.  He sniffed his fingers.
‘There’s something I must tell you before I fulfil your wish.’
The maid came to the side of the bed and started to unbuckle and unzip her jeans.  His face came close to her.
‘My maid was your anonymous caller.’
Her jeans were tugged from her hips; her panties left clinging to her dampness.  He moved down her body and scratched her clit through them, inspiring an intense tickling sensation.
‘I’m not going to make you come until you agree to be my pet.’
He stroked the grinning maid under her chin, making the bells on her fine collar jingle, ‘just like this girl, here.’
He fixed his mouth over her dampness and warmed her with his breath until he made her scream with frustration.  He raised his head.
‘You knew that was the deal, didn’t you?’