by Robin Roseau
I turned to her. "I'm scared."
She smiled reassuringly, then stepped closer, drawing me into her arms. I stared up into her eyes. She lowered her lips to mine, and I closed my eyes as she brushed her lips against mine.
It was a brief kiss, but amazingly lovely, and I found myself clutching at her and moaned.
She broke the kiss and said, "Oh, you're going to be fun, Belle. That was not the start of my time. We're not on the stage yet."
I laughed nervously.
"Ready?" she asked.
"One more? Please?"
She smiled and gave me another kiss, her lipstick smearing over my mouth. It was another brief kiss. She dabbed at my mouth, and I knew she was wiping the smudges away. "There. Lovely."
Then she turned to the stage. There was a short flight of two steps, and then together we stepped into the light, Katrina's arm around me possessively and, I thought, to keep me from running away, a frightened rabbit.
"Wait!" I said.
"Too late for that, Belle," she replied.
"They can't know my secrets!"
"All right," she said.
"Not even the nature of the secrets," I said. "Or I can't play."
"That will stay between us," she agreed. Then she turned us both to face the audience.
I couldn't see very well; the lights were in my eyes. I glanced over at Katrina. She was watching me. "I know you looked at me, but I can't make out any faces."
"Different lighting," she replied.
Then she looked out over the audience. It took only a few moments for the room to still, only one or two murmured conversations continuing. I watched Katrina, but I felt myself begin to tremble, partly in fear, more in excitement. This was really happening. I didn't know what she intended, and I couldn't believe I had agreed to it, but now I was here on the stage, and Katrina was going to be touching me. I would be her complete focus for the next hour.
I felt my legs grow wetter at the thought.
"Hello, Everyone," Katrina said, raising her voice and silencing the last few conversations. "This is Belle. Belle, this is Everyone. Belle is visiting the Bay Area this weekend and is our guest tonight. Everyone say Hello."
The audience responded immediately with, "Hello, Belle!"
I was somewhat taken back. "Belle is from North Carolina," Katrina said. "She has accepted a game with me tonight. Belle, would you care to explain our game?"
"Me?" I squeaked.
"They want to hear your lovely voice. Be sure to project."
I lifted my voice, but was sure I didn't carry as well as it did when she spoke. "I have three secrets. Katrina thinks she can convince me to tell them to her. She gets one hour." I looked around. "I think it's going to be a very long hour for me." I glanced at Katrina. "A very pleasant hour."
"Are these real secrets, Belle?"
"Oh yes," I agreed. "Let's just say they are more real than my age or weight."
There were a few snickers from the audience and I heard one woman say, "They must be some secrets."
Katrina looked out at the audience. "Who thinks Belle is going to win?" Not a single hand went up. "Who thinks I am?" Every hand in the room went up, and there were a variety of raucous calls as well.
Katrina turned to me and asked quietly, "if I weren't holding you in place, would you be running away?"
I lifted my chin and said, "No."
"Good girl," she said. "I'm proud of you."
She stepped away and then walked backwards, disappearing for only a moment before returning, pushing a wheeled table. On the table was a large kitchen timer with a display big enough most of the people in the room could see it. Katrina made a point of setting it to sixty minutes. She let me see it then turned it so the audience could watch.
I grew more nervous. I couldn't believe I was going to let her do this to me, not in front of other people. I reached up to hide my face but then felt the mask. It was so comfortable that I had forgotten I was wearing it. I felt it for a moment then lowered my hands and stood up straighter.
Katrina studied me for a moment then stepped behind the curtains again. She returned pushing a long, narrow table. The top surface was padded, and the supporting structure seemed excessively complicated. Katrina smiled at me as I watched her. She rotated the table so that it sat sideways to the audience, and I got a closer look at how she released it. The wheels on the legs could swivel out of the way, lowering the legs of the table firmly onto the stage. She did that, then adjusted it back and forth slightly until she was happy.
"Just another moment," she told me.
She disappeared again and returned with a clothing rack half filled with empty hangars. She set that towards the back of the visible section of the stage. Then she disappeared once more, returning with a wheeled cart. There was a sheet spread over the cart, so I couldn't see if there was anything on it, but the sheet had a few bumps in it, suggesting the cart wasn't at all empty. I stared at it for a moment, wondering what was underneath it.
Katrina carefully positioned the cart near one end of the table but on the other side, away from the audience. She smiled at me before walking slowly around the table to stand next to me. She leaned to me and whispered, "I won't hurt you. I'll stop if you ask me to stop."
I nodded.
"Ignore the audience," she said just as quietly. "It is just you and me here. Look at me."
I turned to face her directly.
"You are very lovely, Belle," she said. "I am looking forward to our weekend together. I assure you, you will enjoy yourself. I won't ask you to do a single thing you wouldn't do for me, anyway. I promise."
"You have to win first," I said.
She smiled. "I admire your confidence. Have you decided what your wish will be?"
"Maybe," I replied. "I may change my mind over the next hour." I paused. "I know if you ask, I have to answer, but I don't want you to ask."
"All right," she said. "I won't. Why don't you want me to ask?"
"If I change my mind, I don't want you to know."
She nodded. "All right. Ready?"
I licked my lips and nodded.
"All right, Belle," she said in a voice for everyone to hear. "Take off your coat and hang it up." She gestured to the clothing rack while crossing to the timer. She started it, rotated it for me to see that it was counting down the seconds, then rotated it back to the audience. Unless she chose to tell me, I wouldn't be able to look at it. I wouldn't know how much time had elapsed.
I shrugged out of my coat and hug it from a sturdy hangar. Underneath, my arms were bare, and I thought I would be chilled, but the lights were warm. I hadn't realized how warm, even under all the leather, but I realized I was already starting to sweat from the heat.
Katrina crossed to me, walking around me and studying me, and in front of my eyes, I watched her transform. She had been very gentle with me while getting me onto the stage, but in front of my very eyes, she transformed into a hunter, a tigress, and I knew who the gazelle was. My eyes widened, and I think that was the signal she was waiting for. She stepped up to me slowly, walking around me, running a single finger along the bare skin of my neck.
Julie McNiven's outfit had been pure leather, or at least looked like it. Mine looked the same while wearing the coat, but the tunic incorporated a corset. It was not designed to show off my chest unreasonably, but it did help to contain my tummy and waist.
"Very nice," Katrina said. Then her hands were at the laces of the tunic, and I realized she intended to take the tunic off.
"No!" I said quietly. "Please..."
"Belle," she said quietly, "what did you think we're up here to do?"
"Katrina, please. I'm. Fat."
"Poppycock!" she said.
"I am!"
"Poppycock," she said again.
"The corset-"
"The corset helps to flatter you, yes, but you are not fat."
"No one wants to see me without it."
"It is only you and I here,
Belle," she said, "and I very, very much want to see you without it. Now, no more opposition or I will be forced to punish you." She said the last for the audience, and I nodded, but I felt myself blushing as she released me from the corset. She ordered me to lift my hands over my head and slowly worked the tunic off me. I wore nothing underneath it, and I knew everyone was watching me.
I was thirty-eight years old, and I while I wasn't excessively fat, I wasn't slender, and I didn't have the body of a twenty-five-year-old. My breasts sagged, I had a small paunch of a tummy, and at least one, sometimes two rolls around my waist. I colored furiously. I shouldn't have agreed to this. It would have been bad enough in private.
"Lovely," Katrina said after hanging the tunic up and turning to me. "Look at me, Belle. Face me!"
Her voice was commanding, and I turned to her.
"Drop your hands." I was covering my breasts. "Drop them right now."
Slowly, I obeyed. She smiled and looked me up and down. "Lovely. Just lovely."
"I'm not," I said quietly.
"You are," she said. "You have a full, healthy body, and I can't wait to begin playing with it." She grinned then stepped closer. She reached forward and took both my hands then led me to the table. "Climb up and lay down on your stomach."
I was happy to hide my sagging breasts and did what she ordered. She laid a hand on the small of my back while I squirmed into position. I tilted my head to look at her. "Like this?"
"Very good," she said. She took my closest hand, the one the audience couldn't see, and slowly moved it away from my side, helped me bend properly, then had me clasp the edge of the table so my arm was straight out from my shoulder, then bent at the elbow.
"Do the same on the other side," she said. Then she reached under the table near my wrist, and I felt cold steel wrap around my wrist and lock into place. She stepped around the table and secured my other wrist. I couldn't quite see, but my wrists were locked to the edge of the table; they weren't secured by chains, but I couldn't see how they were secured. I could just see the tops of what looked like very wide handcuffs, the edges lined in leather.
"Comfy?" she asked.
"Yes," I nodded, but my heart was pounding in my chest.
Katrina ran fingers down my back, causing me to shiver. She walked down to the end of the table, and I tried to watch her over my shoulder, but it was too difficult, and I collapsed my head against the table. I felt her hands on my legs, and then she was unlacing my boots. She removed them from my feet then caressed my feet for a moment.
Her hands felt nice.
Then she was at my side, reaching underneath me, lifting me slightly at the waist, and her fingers were underneath me, unbuttoning the leather pants.
"Oh god," I said.
She bent down and kissed my back, her lips a feather against my skin, and for a moment my brain turned off. It didn't come back on until she had the leather half off my legs. Then I tried to struggle, but she said firmly, "Behave, Belle!" and I immediately stopped struggling. She finished pulling the leather from my legs, and I lay in a room full of people, my hands secured to the table, completely naked, and every single one of them watching me.
Well, the ones that weren't watching Katrina.
She stepped away, and I knew she was hanging up my pants, then she stepped back to me. "All right. For the rest of our hour you will face the other way so the audience can watch you. If you disobey, I will put you on display for them. You will find it very humiliating, although some women taunt me to do it to them."
"I don't understand."
"Sitting up, facing the audience, helpless, with your legs spread. Everyone will get a very good view."
"Oh god." I immediately rotated my head so the audience could see my face, the part visible around the mask.
Katrina patted my bottom. "Good girl."
Then she was doing more things, and I felt leather wrap around my upper legs, sliding between my legs, and she secured my legs to the table, then my ankles. She stepped to my side and said, "Can you get free, Belle?"
I tugged on everything. I was completely helpless. "No."
"Try harder," she said. She swatted my bottom. It stung! I yelped and began to struggle in earnest. When I stopped struggling, she swatted my bottom again. I yelped and renewed my efforts to be free of the table.
"I can't, Katrina!" I said. "I can't get free."
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Yes."
She rubbed my bottom and kissed the back of my neck, and I moaned.
Just her touch, her lips felt so good.
"This is a very clever table," she said. She did something, I couldn't see what, and the top half of the table from my waist up rose several inches. I found myself lying on my stomach with my legs bent towards the floor at the hips and then bent at the knee so it would look like I was kneeling across the table.
Then Katrina began touching me, here and there, nowhere too intimate, her gloved touch feather light, and I squirmed under her touch. She collected things from the cart, but I couldn't see, and she began stroking me with them. They were different sensations. Some were cloth; some were metal. The metal was cold, and some of it was sharp. And everything felt really good.
The entire time, Katrina talked to me quietly, telling me how much she enjoyed touching me, how lovely I was to look at, how lovely it was when I blushed and when I squirmed, and how much fun she was going to have extracting my secrets from me.
I began to pant under her touch, and I knew my heart was going a mile a minute. I was so embarrassed to be on the table, but slowly I forgot about the audience I couldn't see anyway. Slowly all I could think about was Katrina and what she was doing to me.
She asked me a question. "Have you ever done anything like this before?"
"No," I said very quietly, only loudly enough for her to hear.
Her hands stilled, and I wondered if I had done something wrong. I whimpered.
She bent down and whispered into my ear. "You did nothing wrong, my lovely one. Please be patient." And then she withdrew from me, her breath no longer tickling my ear, her hands no longer caressing me, and I felt a loss.
She was gone for a moment, a long moment, but then she returned carrying a microphone stand, the cord trailing along the floor. She kicked the cord where she wanted it and positioned the microphone facing me.
"Now, I will ask you again," she said, her fingers caressing me. "Have you ever done anything like this before?"
"No," I said, and I heard my own voice, amplified for the audience. "Katrina-"
She bent down and whispered. "They won't hear when I whisper to you or if you whisper into my ear." Then she laid her ear in front of my mouth.
I whispered quietly, "Are you sure?"
She turned to me and smiled. "Yes," she said, and the microphone picked that up.
She kissed me, awkwardly with my face pressed against the table, but it felt good. "Don't worry," she said, patting my cheek. "There will be more kissing."
Then she stood up and began stroking my body, and I squirmed under her touch.
"Katrina?" I asked.
"Yes, Belle?"
"Will you remove your gloves for me?"
She bent over and kissed the small of my back, and then I saw one of her gloves fall onto the table next to me, and then the other. She began stroking me with her bare hands, and her touch was divine.
"Belle," she said, her voice carrying, "were you watching me on stage earlier?"
"Yes," I said. It was almost a moan. Her touch felt so good, and she wasn't really even doing anything yet.
"What were you thinking while you were watching me?"
"How much I wanted it to be me you were touching."
"Did you think it ever would be?"
"No."
She moved down my body, caressing my legs, growing increasingly intimate in her touch. "Do you like what I am doing?" Yes was the answer. "Do you want me to continue?" Yes. "Does it feel good?" She kept asking questi
ons, and each one a yes, some of them little more than a moan, and then her fingers were between my legs, and she caressed my slick folds again asking, "Does this feel good?"
"Oh god, yes," I moaned.
She began alternating her questions, asking me if I liked something she was doing, which was always "yes" and then asking me a personal question like where I lived, what my favorite color was, whether I smoked, what my favorite drink was, and other things I didn't mind being asked. I answered every question while squirming and squirming in the bonds to which I was locked.
She moved up my body, standing behind me, away from the audience, and I couldn't see her, but her fingers were still between my legs, and she was stroking me deliciously. My ardor continued to rise, but she wasn't pushing me towards an orgasm, not yet anyway. I wondered briefly if she knew that, or if she was doing the best to drive me crazy.
She asked a few more questions, then leaned down and whispered in my ear, "What is the name of the company you will visit on Monday?"
I froze under her touch. I had completely forgotten our game, completely lost to her touch. "I can't tell you," I replied. "Oh god, Katrina."
And she pulled away from me.
"I'm so disappointed, Belle," she said instead. "I know you want me to touch you."
She didn't think I was that easy, did she?
In place, I shook my head. I wasn't going to tell her.
She stepped to the cart, collecting something. She held it up for the audience, and they reacted with "ooh" and a few catcalls. I began to tremble, embarrassed again. Katrina walked all around the table, holding her hand in the air, but I couldn't see what she had until she stopped in front of my face and lowered her hands, giving me a good, close look.
I didn't know what it was. One end was bright red and looked to be made out of plastic or rubber. The other end looked like a fox tail, long and stiff.
Katrina leaned over to me and whispered into my ear, "Are you okay?"
I nodded.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No. Please touch me."
"Soon," she whispered. "Do you know what this is?"
"No."
She stood up and raised her voice. "This end, of course, is a fox tail." She began teasing me with it. It tickled, and I squirmed. She spent what felt like several minutes tickling me, although I was sure it wasn't that long, but she was very thorough. Then she crossed in front of me so I could watch. "This end is different." She bent down so I could see her face. She smiled. "This is one of my favorite toys."