Ruth Restrained

by Krys Antarakis

  ‘Habit, I suppose,’ Janet acknowledged. ‘To use his Christian name would seem unduly familiar.’

  ‘But why, you care for him, don’t you? You feel much more than just a polite respect for him, I know you do. He should be the one putting you on a pedestal.’

  ‘I’m a happily married woman, Ruth.’

  ‘Maybe, but if the offer were made, you’d jump on it. Admit it.’

  ‘Well, I suppose you’re right.’ Janet sighed. ‘It would be nice to have at least one illicit affair before old age sets in.’

  ‘You’re not old.’

  ‘I have about five years before menopause, Ruth. What then?’

  ‘Nonsense. A woman’s sexuality lasts forever. I think you’re a lovely person, and if Lewis doesn’t make you an offer, I’ll seduce you myself.’

  ‘Ruth!’

  ‘Don’t be so shocked, Janet. It happens more often than you imagine, and it’s perfectly healthy and enjoyable. Open your mind and let life flood in!’ She smiled at her own triteness.

  ‘Now you’re embarrassing me, Ruth.’ She averted her eyes. ‘Um, by the way, I’ve booked the squash court for you at eight this evening.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Mr Stone... Lewis... rang and said you wanted a court for tonight, and that I was to book it for you.’

  ‘That’s the first I’ve heard about it.’

  ‘He said he’d see you there later this evening.’

  Ruth shrugged. ‘A man of mystery, I like that. Thanks for the chat, Jan. I ought to be clearing my desk and getting home. Now, remember what I said, charm him and grab what you can for yourself. I could never be jealous of you.’

  Ruth let herself into her flat. On the lobby floor she had found a small white envelope with her name on it. She dumped her bag and the carrier from the sports shop on the couch, and tore open the envelope. She recognised Lewis’s writing, and felt a potent tingle of excitement run through her as she hastily scanned his instructions. Then she went hot with excitement and trepidation as she rushed to the phone.

  ‘Hello, Helen? This is Ruth. What do you know about a squash court?’

  ‘I know you and I are going to be playing on one this evening. A mutual friend of ours, Elsa, rang me yesterday with some very saucy instructions. Have you received some, too?’

  ‘Just. You’ll obey them?’

  ‘Naturally, to the letter.’ The girl giggled coquettishly. ‘It sounds a hoot. Shall we meet at your place?’

  ‘All right. Is half past seven good?’

  ‘Yes, fine. Give me directions.’

  The heavy atmosphere and black clouds towering in the west heralded the end of the heat wave. Capricious squalls tugged at the girls’ short skirts and played teasingly over their bottoms. Both were wearing short white tennis dresses and nothing else underneath. They had both received identical instructions and had obeyed them to the letter. Ruth’s naked pussy was moistening and she suspected her new friend’s was as well. Helen was a striking blonde with enviably full breasts and legs that went on forever, and a smug awareness of her good looks glowed in her large blue eyes.

  At the fitness suite the duty manager eyed them coolly, scanning their brief costumes with a critical eye. Ruth knew he could see her hard nipples pressed against the fine, close-fitting material, and it made her feel extremely sexy. Soon, very soon, she must find a good firm cock to satisfy her cravings.

  As they were already dressed for the game they went directly to the court, and Ruth considered the glass screen with amusement. ‘If we keep the returns high, we can preserve some of our dignity,’ she observed.

  Helen laughed. ‘I say if we’re going to give a show, let it be a good one.’

  ‘You’re right, of course. Keep ‘em low; a first class show.’

  ‘Keep ‘em low!’ Helen echoed enthusiastically.

  The game began. Neither girl was taking the play seriously, but they quickly entered into the fun of it, moving the ball around the court to keep each other on the move while stooping to receive the low returns each was making an effort to create.

  ‘The gallery’s empty,’ Ruth noticed, disappointed. ‘If it fills up I shall bend really low and then you can smack me, as if by accident, of course. I want them to have a really good look at my bottom.’ She slammed a ball into the lower corner. It came out high and Helen had to leap for it. The stretch pulled her dress right up, exposing her bottom completely, and Ruth was so dazzled by the beauty of it that she failed to make the return.

  ‘Well, we’ve got ourselves an audience now,’ Helen said as she stooped to recover the ball.

  Ruth looked up at the gallery without breaking her crouch. A young man hurrying along the corridor had stopped to stare in disbelief at the unexpected sight of a pert, naked bottom. He was now also probably staring at the lingering marks left by her spankings, and if that did not completely arrest his attention, nothing on this earth would. She wiggled her bottom teasingly, and served her next shot in a stooped position, aiming for a low hit that would make Helen bend over too. She cast another quick glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was a second figure behind the glass now.

  Helen got in a powerful shot that came back high across the court, and Ruth had to concentrate to reach it, stretching to the limit. Helen reacted quickly, keeping her on her toes. The speed of the game occupied her mind until Helen missed a return, and in the lull she checked the gallery again. A sizeable crowd was gathered now.

  Helen served, and the game went on. Ruth immersed herself in the fun of it, and in the sheer sensual pleasure of flaunting her body so flagrantly. Then a rise in the background noise warned her of someone’s approach as the door of the court was flung open, admitting a blast of strident protests. Distracted, she just managed to dodge the hurtling ball, but before she could recover her arm was seized by one of the grey-haired matrons in a tweed suit who stormed onto the court.

  ‘You sluts need to be taught a lesson you won’t forget!’ the woman cried in a shrill voice. Ruth was competently bent over and clamped against her assailant’s hip. Hoisting Ruth’s tiny skirt, the woman spun her around to point her bottom at the crowd in the gallery, and began systematically spanking her exposed buttocks. Ruth swore and kicked, but the woman was an expert and her struggles were in vain. She tore at the heavy tweed, intent on ripping her attacker’s skirt away, but the beastly hag only hit her harder.

  ‘You bitch!’ Ruth screamed, clawing at the thick fabric. ‘Let me go!’

  ‘Quiet down, you little whore, or it’ll be the worse for you.’

  Ruth felt something click in her brain. Beneath the assumed shrillness, the voice possessed a timbre that was uncannily familiar. She clawed at the hem of the skirt, crying out in protest at the heavy spanking being administered to her posterior. Desperately she hauled the thick tweed skirt up, exposing sexy lace-trimmed stockings and taut suspenders that made her gasp in surprise. ‘I know those legs! You pig, Elsa Fredericks!’

  Elsa smacked her even harder. ‘Shut up and take your punishment, worm. I promised you a good spanking, and you’re getting it. Play the part, or we’ll all get arrested.’

  Ruth kicked and wriggled, and from the yells nearby it was obvious Helen was reacting equally violently to her chastisement.

  Elsa delivered two more sharp smacks and then pulled the red-faced Ruth erect. She slipped off her tweed jacket and wrapped it around Ruth’s waist. ‘Go and make yourself decent, slut.’ She gave her a hearty shove towards the door.

  Ruth collided heavily with the duty manager, who had just succeeded in pushing through the crowd gathering on the threshold. The jacket fell away and she bent over to retrieve it, contriving to expose her scalding bottom to his full view. She wriggled her pert mounds and parted her thighs so he could get a glimpse of her pouting pussy.

  Before the man could react, Elsa rounded on him. ‘You
should be ashamed of yourself, allowing a disgusting spectacle like this to be perpetrated in an exclusive club! Why weren’t these two trollops banned?’ Then, as the manager struggled to find the right answer, Elsa gave Ruth another shove, pushing her roughly through the crowd.

  Ruth felt hands groping her bare bottom. She twisted away, but a strong hand grabbed her arm. She protested, only to fall silent as Lewis’s voice whispered in her ear, ‘The car’s outside. Get in it while I rescue Helen.’

  She dashed out of the centre. It was raining hard, and even though she ran to the car she was soaked by the time she made it inside. Her nipples stood hard and erect against the translucent fabric as she dove for shelter, dropping her racquet. She was breathless, flushed and excited. She was also horny as hell and desperate for relief. She yanked off her sodden dress and plunged two fingers between her thighs, teasing her willing clit free and rubbing it with vigour. When Helen was finally bustled into the back of the car, Ruth was in the throes of her third orgasm.

  A body barged against her, forcing her up against Helen, who was also struggling out of her wet dress. ‘Stop indulging yourself and help me out of these soaking-wet clothes,’ Judy snapped.

  Ruth forced herself back to reality and groped at Judy’s fastenings in the confined space. Elsa was being attended to by Helen, and by the time Lewis, in the driver’s seat, had pulled out of the parking lot, Judy and Elsa were down to stockings and suspenders.

  ‘Do your duty,’ commanded Judy. ‘I want a really stupendous climax.’

  Ruth bent eagerly to her task, and she heard Elsa making similar demands of Helen as Lewis drove them all out of the city.

  At Lewis’s home, Ruth and Helen were bent over and subjected to a detailed examination.

  ‘I thought as much,’ Elsa declared as she ran her fingertips over the curves of Ruth’s tingling buttocks. ‘This was not a good job; it was too rushed in there.’

  ‘Not any more, please,’ Ruth pleaded.

  ‘What, a dedicated slave declining the pleasure of punishment?’ Elsa mocked. ‘I can’t believe my ears.’

  ‘I can’t either,’ Lewis said, and joined Elsa in caressing Ruth’s bottom. ‘If she wants to spank you again, then she will, and I don’t want to hear one more peep out of you, young lady. In fact, another sharp spanking would put her in the right mood, Elsa. I think she would also benefit from having a butt-plug inserted while you do it. You have just enough time before Lionel arrives.’

  ‘Who’s Lionel?’ Ruth demanded.

  Elsa pinched her bottom sharply. ‘You’ll find out in good time. Now position yourself over this chair, please.’

  Ruth shamefacedly moved to the required position, spreading her legs to present her bottom for another spanking. Although she was sore from the last one, she could not deny that the prospect of another beating was as exciting as it was alarming. She gripped the chair tightly, until her knuckles showed white, and waited for the butt-plug with trepidation and longing wondering who Lionel was.

  Elsa was an expert spanker. She laid each blow accurately and systematically over the marks of her earlier chastisement, until Ruth was smarting over every inch of her posterior. The butt-plug was tightly lodged inside her, and each smack caused her sphincter to grip it firmly, inducing lovely feelings in her bottom that worked their way up to her sensitive clit.

  Elsa paused to observe her work.

  Ruth’s bottom glowed and burned. She tried to keep still, but the intense sensations in her body made her want to squirm. She wondered if Elsa had finished, and closed her eyes to prevent herself breaking her role by looking around.

  When Elsa finally spoke, her words were tinged with relish. ‘And these are to teach a lesson to someone who took an unusual delight in hurting one very defenceless pussy last night.’

  Ruth tensed. She knew what was coming, and the prospect was terrifyingly delectable.

  Elsa’s hand landed squarely on her open quim. The blow stung and hurt unbelievably; Ruth felt as though she had been branded. The sensation seemed to burn through her entire being and she howled in despair even as deep inside her a voice cried, ‘Again!’

  Elsa obliged her silent plea. Five more heavy smacks impacted on Ruth’s puffy labia until it burned and stung like never before. She felt thoroughly drained, humiliated and hurt beyond her ability to express it. She wanted to drag herself away and hide in a corner where she could weep undisturbed and mentally lick her wounds. What she could not quite understand was the curious desire echoing around her brain to experience the whole agonising ordeal again.

  When she was allowed to stand, she saw a man had arrived and was setting up an artist’s easel. She concluded this must be the mysterious Lionel. He had a rather intense air about him, and although he studied her openly, there was no glimmer of desire in his eyes. She felt neglected. In recent days she had grown accustomed to men and women expressing desire in some form or another when they looked at her.

  ‘You’re Ruth?’ he asked after he had finished his preparations.

  ‘Yes, I’m Ruth.’ She looked to Lewis for enlightenment, but received none.

  Lionel came over to her, and surveyed her critically.

  She was accustomed to artists, and recognised the purposeful professional eye with which he was viewing her. She moved provocatively, hoping to generate a reaction in him, but her efforts were in vain.

  ‘Lie on the couch, please,’ he instructed her. ‘On your side, and bend your upper leg slightly, I want to see your crotch, but not all of it. Understand? I want to feel your sensuality, but I don’t want you to come across as a prostitute selling her wares. Rest one hand on your hip and support your head with the other.’

  Ruth took up the position he indicated, allowing him to move her around until he was satisfied.

  ‘That will do,’ he said at last with grudging approval. ‘Now hold that pose for at least twenty minutes.’

  She tried to empty her mind. She had served as a model to a life class at university, and she knew how trying it was to hold a pose for a protracted amount of time.

  Here it was even harder, where all around her were naked people intent on enjoying their intimacy. And worse, Helen was being set up for another spanking. She had to work hard to contain her passions as the sound and sight of Helen being chastised flooded her brain. And when the beautiful blonde was subjected to the same pussy whipping she had just endured, Ruth thought she would burst with longing, but she forced herself to hold still.

  At last, Lionel indicated he was finished, and Lewis helped Ruth off the couch. She was allowed to see the sketch, and viewed it critically. She had to admit it was good.

  It was a simple pencil drawing, but Lionel had caught her features and her aura perfectly. She could hardly believe she was capable of projecting such sensuality. The pose and expression were accurate, the background fictitious. She was depicted lying on a stone floor. Around her neck was a collar, and from it a chain extended to a ring in the stonework above her head.

  ‘We’re calling it Ruth Restrained,’ Lewis informed her. ‘But now it’s time for bed. Elsa, Judy and Helen are staying the night, but I don’t think they’ll disturb us. Take a hot shower while I see Lionel out.’

  Chapter 14

  The saleroom at Broughton was filled to capacity. Among the familiar dealers Ruth spotted Elsa and Morgan and other members of their group. She felt satisfied with the results of her work and happy with her commitment to Lewis. The previous evening had been devoted to wedding plans. They agreed Highmoor House would be an excellent venue, and the date would be set as soon as Conrad could accommodate them. In high spirits, she addressed the day’s task.

  Bidding began at ten o’clock. Ruth, demure in a formal suit, sold the minor lots while Lewis officiated over the major items. The two Parry’s, now confirmed as authentic, fetched astonishing prices, both going to Conrad after he beat off a fier
ce competition. Ruth was pleased to learn the paintings were to remain at Broughton after its conversion, and by three o’clock there remained only some small items, which she disposed of quickly. The saleroom was almost empty when the last lot sold, so she was surprised when Lewis took the stand again.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is a private sale open to invited bidders only. It is not connected with the main event and consists of a single lot that will be of interest to connoisseurs of erotic art. On offer is an original pencil cartoon entitled Ruth Restrained. It is an excellent example of the work of Lionel Fischer, who the cognoscenti among you will immediately recognise as being one of the world’s rising stars in this genre.’

  A porter began to parade the picture around the room, and Ruth hid in the background, puzzled by this turn of events.

  ‘The lot consists of the cartoon,’ Lewis went on, ‘plus an exclusive option on the projected full size oil painting, at no extra cost, to be completed within three months of commissioning. I have Fischer’s letter of commitment, which is included in the sale, and the price should reflect this. There is no reserve on this item. Are the telephone bidders online?’

  Two porters relaying phone bids indicated in the affirmative.

  ‘Good. Who will offer me two thousand pounds?’

  Ruth scanned the room trying to understand why her picture should attract such interest. Three dealers had remained behind. Two more in the act of leaving turned back, and watched keenly. Conrad, aloof and haughty, retained the centrally located seat he had occupied all day. On the far side of the room sat Elsa, Morgan, Nick and Judy.

  A low bid came from one of the dealers, and Morgan immediately followed with one of his own. Then a telephone bid was entered and the price rose quickly past the two thousand pound mark.

  Ruth watched in a daze, flushed and embarrassed by all the attention her portrait was getting. Being an exhibitionist amongst friends was one thing, but abstract notoriety was something else entirely. Her emotions began to boil. She could hardly believe a picture of her could be worth so much.