“Yes, well, sorry about that. I wasn’t intending to go so far, but you looked so sexy all tied up and helpless. You got me feeling all hot and randy. You don’t mind?”
“Mind? Oh no. It was – it gave me a lot to think about.”
“Here,” said Marilyn, pushing across the table one of the cuffs Shirley had just been wearing. “Show me you know how to fit this.”
“That will be all for this evening, Peter. We’ll manage with taxis from now on. Thank you, and see you in the morning.” Jeremy was dismissing his driver for the evening, outside a discreet restaurant in Soho. Peter held the door of the Jaguar open for Shirley to climb out. Jeremy ushered her towards the restaurant door. “Peter’s a real blessing, but I have to let him go home sometimes. The restaurant will find us a taxi for the trip home. Now, have you been here before, Miss Shirley?”
“No, Mr Bradley -” but he cut her off.
“You must call me Jeremy this evening, Miss Shirley. That’s the way it goes.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “This is my favourite restaurant. They’re very friendly, and do excellent food. Their braised pig’s head is famous.”
He continued talking while the waitress ushered them to a corner table and settled Shirley in her seat. “Shall I ask for a menu? I think I can tell you from memory – what sort of thing do you like?”
Shirley was struggling to feel confident. “What are you having, er- Jeremy? You order for me.”
“Certainly, Miss Shirley. Could I suggest you start with the pig’s head? It really is an experience. I shall start with steak tartare for a change. And then I was thinking of sharing a bouillabaisse. That’s another of their signature dishes – really first rate. How does that sound? I’m sure you’ll like it.” Shirley warmed to his smile, and his eagerness to please.
Shirley had never eaten food like this, or even been to a restaurant where food was regarded with such reverence. Jeremy was a very agreeable companion, guiding her through the meal and the wine, that she almost forgot why she had come. He had a charming grin. It made her want to open up and talk about everything at once. As he chattered on and told her amusing stories of life on his racing yacht, her memory piqued her with the thought that, in an hour or two, she would be stripping this man naked, tying him up and fucking him for money.
Once the taxi had dropped them at Jeremy’s Islington flat, her uncertainty returned, and she did not know how to start. They were sitting in Jeremy’s spotless living room, sipping sherry, and she would have to make a move. She looked at him sitting on the edge of his armchair, upright, knees and hands together, a schoolboy on his best behaviour. Cuddling Jeremy was surely inappropriate, but what else could she do?
Fortunately, Jeremy knew. “Miss Shirley, may we begin?”
She almost asked him what he would like to do first, but something Marilyn had said about taking control came to her. “Very well, Jeremy. Why don’t you stand up and take all your clothes off?” She hoped her voice did not reflect her thoughts. She need not have worried. Jeremy stood obediently and undressed, arranging his clothes over the back of an armchair.
Jeremy took care of himself. She guessed he was over forty, but there was no sign of loose living. His body looked athletic, and he had no tummy. With a shock, she realised that he was completely depilated. No hair on his chest or his legs. When he turned towards her, his cock stared at her from a completely naked belly. His face and neck were red, presumably from the week-ends on his yacht, but the rest of him was milky white. Except for his pink and straining cock, with its hooded blind eye staring balefully at her.
“I think we shall go to your bedroom, Jeremy. It’s time to tie you up.”
The room was just as Marilyn had described it, with a large, low bed and mirrored wardrobe doors on both sides. On the beside tables, Jeremy had carefully arranged cuffs, two each side. Without waiting, he sank onto the bed and lay on his back with his arms and legs spread.
Shirley took a deep breath and picked up Jeremy’s wrist. His arm felt hard, and heavy. Feeling clumsy, she tightened the cuff around his wrist and reached for the strap under the bed. It was ready for her, and she clipped it to the cuff. Jeremy watched without speaking as she hurried to the other side of the bed and the other wrist.
Once she had tightened the straps to Jeremy’s arms and he lay helpless, a sense of relief seeped into her. So far, so good, and she began to tighten the straps to his ankle cuffs. Jeremy was spread wide. He was hers to play with.
Jeremy had raised his head from the pillow and watched her curiously. His gaze made her uncomfortable, and she hurried out to the hallway, returning with her scarf. Jeremy let her blindfold him, and she stood up and wondered what to do next. Marilyn had avoided saying what she did once Jeremy was strapped to his bed, and Shirley was on her own.
It did not matter. She was in charge, alone, and no-one could see her. She took the chance to examine Jeremy’s body. He was blind, and she could stare as much as she liked. She liked the muscles of his chest, and his flat, pink nipples. She liked his tight belly-button, and his hairless groins. His balls were drawn up in their tight, wrinkled sac, scarcely distinguishable.
She looked around for something to stroke him with, and wondered if he had a feather duster like Marilyn’s.
“Miss Shirley -” started Jeremy, but she stopped him.
“Keep quiet, Jeremy, or I will have to gag you. You wouldn’t like that, would you?” Shirley felt shocked that the words came so easily to her. It was fun to have a man under her control like this.
There was no feather duster so, turning her head sideways, she trailed her hair up and down Jeremy’s body. She could feel the warmth of him on her cheek, and he smelt male and exciting. Her hair must have felt good, and his nipples seemed to tighten a little. Not enough, and she stopped her stroking to suck at them. She sucked, and worried them with her teeth until they formed miniature peaks, and went back to stroking him with her hair.
With each sweep of her hair down his chest and stomach, she came nearer and nearer to Jeremy’s cock. It lay stiff on his stomach and had cried a smooth, wet tear. Shirley held it. Warm, alive, and veiled in its silky skin. She pulled the skin back, and Jeremy moaned and stiffened.
“Quiet, Jeremy,” she ordered, and held the skin firmly back so she could examine the swollen head. It gleamed wetly, and she slipped her mouth over it. She loved the smooth texture, and the slippery taste. She explored it with her tongue, tracing the join between the head and the taut skin of the shaft. Experimentally, she bobbed her head over his cock.
“Aah -” gasped Jeremy. “I’ll come.”
She released him immediately. “No, you don’t. I’ll tell you when to come.” She wanted to enjoy herself, to see and feel more of him. She stood up, quickly stripped off her tights and panties, and moved to kneel between his out-stretched legs.
She stood his cock vertically, and felt for his balls with the other hand. He felt exciting. Hard, tight, masculine. She took him into her mouth again and he groaned.
She would have to move quickly if he were not to come in her hands. Turning her back to him, she tried to squat over his cock. With one foot between his legs and the other beside him, she held on to his thigh and lowered herself onto him. Now she had what she wanted. Her excitement mounted as her filled her, and she began to bounce on him.
Jeremy was helping her, meeting her movements by thrusting upwards. His panting joined her own, and Shirley’s orgasm could not be stopped.
She did not know if he had joined her. He must have done, for he had stopped moving. She was sitting on him, absorbing the feel of him inside her. She wriggled on him, and drew a sigh.
Suddenly, she did not know what to do next. She lifted herself off him and, without untying his blindfold, unclipped the straps to his wrists. Grabbing her underwear, she went looking for the bathroom.
Jeremy was in the kitchen, wearing a black silk dressing gown with a Chinese dragon embroidered on the back. “Coffee?” he asked.
&
nbsp; They sat together in the living room, sipping coffee and waiting for her taxi. Jeremy seemed relaxed and content, and spoke about the office and the busy week coming. The schoolboy had gone, unless he was hiding behind that smile. Shirley felt relieved. She had come here to do a job, and it had gone well. Jeremy saw her to the door, and slipped something into her bag as he handed it to her.
It was a long buff envelope. She did not open it in the taxi, or even in her hallway. She laid it on the kitchen table and waited until she could sit down with a mug of cocoa. At last she opened it. Inside were three crisp fifty pound notes. £150. Marilyn got £1000 when she visited Jeremy.
Shirley began to sob uncontrollably.
- 3 –
“So, how did it go?” asked Marilyn, coming into her office next day.
Shirley did not know how to answer. “Er – I don’t think he liked me.” Admitting her failure was difficult, especially in front of Marilyn. She had been given a chance, and had blown it.
“I don’t believe you. He says you had a good time.”
“You’ve been talking to him!” The thought of Marilyn and Jeremy discussing her performance in bed horrified her.
“Of course. Jeremy said you enjoyed yourself. Let’s go for lunch, and you can tell me all about it.”
Her directness flustered Shirley. “But it’s too early.”
“Never mind. You’re with me, and we can go when we like. Call it brunch.”
Over coffee and a sandwich, Marilyn started to probe. “So, Shirl, tell me what happened.”
“Well, he picked me up in his Jag and took me to a fantastic restaurant.”
“Yes, yes, I know all that. What happened in bed? That’s what I want to know.”
“Well, I was nervous, for a start, but I got him to strip off in the lounge. Then we went off to the bedroom and I tied him up.”
“And?”
“Well, I tried stroking him, like you did to me. Only I had to use my hair – there wasn’t anything else.”
“Back up, back up. What were you wearing while you were doing this?”
“Oh, you know. Just clothes.”
“Clothes? What clothes? Don’t tell me you were still running around fully dressed.”
“Well, I was, actually. But it didn’t matter because I’d blindfolded him.”
“Didn’t matter? Oh Jesus, girl. Don’t you have any idea? Of course it matters. He was paying you to run around looking sexy. Of course he wanted to look at you. Were you wearing any sexy underthings?”
Shirley was feeling more and more like a school girl. “Well, normal things. Bra and panties. And tights, of course.”
“Tights! Fat lot of good they’d be. Can’t make love in tights, as if you’d want to.” Marilyn shook her head. “Tell you what, young Shirley. We need to do some shopping. I bet he’s going to invite you again at the week-end, and you don’t want another fiasco. Eat up, and we’ll go.”
Shirley took the tube home that night with a large shopping bag filled with more lingerie than she had owned in her life. It seemed ridiculous, but as the train rocked and shuffled from station to station, she was turning Marilyn’s comments and tips over in her mind.
You know what your problem was, Shirl? Jeremy told me you enjoyed yourself, right? But that’s not what it’s about. If he just wanted a girl who could enjoy herself, he would have got a wife. It’s all about him. He wants to enjoy himself, and you can enjoy getting paid. That’s the deal.
Sure, you can have fun too, but he comes first. Everything you do, right from when you pull you clothes on at home, has got to be about what Jeremy likes. Everything you do, every move you make, you’ve got to be thinking about his fun.
Shirley believed her. Jeremy was not going to part with £1000 for nothing. There was more to this business than she had thought.
This time Jeremy took her to a small Belgium restaurant in a dingy back street near Covent Garden. It was a noisy, crowded place, full of young people enjoying themselves. They dined on wild boar sausages, washed down with Belgium beer. Good food, but again Shirley’s mind was full of what was to come.
Her corset constantly reminded her. Marilyn had talked her into a corset, for goodness sake, a black creation with red ribbons. It was not severe but, under her silk blouse, it pushed up her breasts like two melons on a tray. Small melons, but the corset made them look far more obvious, and she had opened her blouse one button lower than normal to show them off. The corset also gave her somewhere to suspend her stockings.
When they left the restaurant, Shirley was ready to get to work but Jeremy wanted to delay. She took his arm and they strolled down to Covent Garden, looking at the nightlife and people enjoying themselves. Shirley felt cold and her new heels threatened a blister, but she said nothing. Jeremy wanted to walk and she would oblige, chattering as they went. At last, Jeremy hailed a taxi to whisk them away.
Jeremy took her coat, and looked at her critically from head to toe. “You’re looking very attractive tonight, Grainger.”
Grainger? Not Miss Shirley tonight, or even Miss Grainger. The game had changed, and Shirley had to guess how. “Thank you very much, Mr Bradley-,” but he cut her off.
“Mr Jeremy will do, Grainger. Now what were you saying?”
“Thank you very much, Mr Jeremy. I’m glad you like me.”
Jeremy was steering her through to the lounge. “Well, we’ll see about that. Now, let’s have some of those clothes off.”
He sat back on the sofa and gestured her to the middle of the room. With her heart racing, and willing herself to look calm and confident, Shirley unbuttoned her blouse, starting with the cuffs. She shrugged it off her shoulders and dropped it on an armchair. Her skirt was simple. A hook and the zip, and it lay with her blouse. Jeremy lounged on the sofa, a small smile on his face, watching her carefully. She did not know how much further to go.
“Very nice, Grainger. Now spin round for me. Very nice, very nice. You have a beautiful bum, Grainger. Comfortable, just right. Come here.” He drew her to stand between his knees.
He stared at her panties, a black lace thong with a bow at each hip bone. “I like these,” he said, reaching out to tug at the bows, “They are very tasty.”
The thong had dissolved into string and lace, and Shirley reached behind her to pull it free. Jeremy was examining her pussy and she cringed inwardly. He put a hand between her knees and tapped to make her widen her stance.
“Very sweet,” he said. “Now, let’s see what else we’ve got.” He pulled her closer, and began to tuck the lacy top of her corset inside and out of sight. Her nipples peeped over the corset’s edge. “That’s better,” he said. “I don’t know why you bother with the lacy bit at all. Do you dance?” He produced a remote and the first throbbing notes of Lady in Red filled the room. He held her tight and they swayed to the slow rhythm. Shirley closed her eyes and rested her head on Jeremy’s shoulder. He felt strong and muscular, and nothing could go wrong in his encircling arms. The scent of him filled her senses and she drifted on the magic of the music.
Jeremy steered her towards the bedroom, and guided her to the bed. She would not be tying Jeremy up tonight. It was too late for that. Unresisting, she climbed onto the bed and let him arrange her face down. She offered her wrists and ankles to the cuffs, and lifted her hips from the bed to allow him to tuck a pillow underneath her. Jeremy worked quickly and silently. He left her alone, stretched out and blindfolded. She retreated into her own world, familiar from her time with Marilyn, except now she felt exposed. Cool air touched her pussy, and anyone standing at the foot of the bed could stare at her deepest secrets. The blindfold comforted her.
Jeremy returned and the bed sank as he sat beside her. She shivered. He brushed her shoulder, and went on to gather her hair into a ponytail. He was reaching around her neck, brushing her ears in the process. A rill of fear ran through her and receded as she felt a soft cloth being wrapped around and fastened at the back of her neck. She wondered what it was.
“Now then, Grainger,” he said at last, “Let’s see what I can do with that pretty bottom of yours.” He grabbed her and she yelped in surprise.
“Quiet, Grainger, or you’ll be sorry.” He smacked her sharply. Pain and shock made her jump in her bonds, but Jeremy did nothing more.
She felt him move to kneel between her feet. He was doing something, and a cool liquid poured onto one cheek, and then the other. “That’s better,” said Jeremy, “Now we shall have some fun.” He began to rub the liquid, the oil, into her cheeks in a strong, circular massage.
On and on he rubbed. His massage pulled her open again and again, and she felt it to her core. Then his thumb brushed her, and she winced involuntarily. Jeremy chuckled. “You like that, don’t you? Good, let’s do it some more.” She felt more oil, this time between her cheeks and running down to her pussy, and his hands were back, with thumbs rubbing insistently over her back entrance. His touch made her tense. She did not know whether to shrink from him, or lift her hips and ask for more.
“I bet this has made you wet, what do you think?” His fingers brushed over her pussy, and she groaned. “Oh, oh, oh, you are wet. Mmh – I like that.” He had a finger on either side of her clit, rubbing insistently. She lifted her hips to him as far as she could, and shrank from him as it became too much.
“You’re a hot little chick, Grainger. I think I’ll take some more of this.” She felt him climb over her, with a hand pressed into the mattress beside her. And then his cock was at her pussy, brushing against her, quickly pushing its way in and stopping. He did not rest on her. His presence was over her, but only his cock touched her. She wanted more.
“Fuck my cock, Grainger.” She pushed up to him and dropped back, again and again.
“That’s it, Grainger, fuck my cock. Slowly! Keep fucking, but slowly. God, that’s good!” Shirley no longer heard him. She worked deliberately against him, and it would soon be too late.
“Ah!” she gasped. Jeremy had pulled away. Nothing to rub against, and disappointment filled her.
Working For Jeremy Page 2