by Leo Barton
I was excited but very nervous. I knew that at any moment the spell could be broken, that Frankie could decide that the game had gone far enough. I decided not to overdo it, and so I gently massaged Stephanie's sore bottom. She sighed at the soothing motion of my hand, and from the mellowing look in Frankie's eyes I sensed I had done the right thing and that her necessary acquiescence would now be forthcoming.
'Let's tie her up, Frankie,' I carefully ordered. 'You tie her legs.' How delightful that was, to try to dominate a dominatrix!
Frankie stood for a moment, running her fingers over the silk belt, still unsure, still hesitant.
'Come on...' I encouraged again, fighting to maintain an edge of authority in my excited voice.
Slowly, Frankie moved closer. She slipped the belt from the loops of the gown, and began to bind Stephanie's ankles together. I rolled Stephanie onto the sofa, found my trousers and removed the belt, and then used it to secure her wrists.
Stephanie put up no physical resistance, but she did look amazed at what was happening to her.
'Jonathan, stop this,' she pleaded weakly. 'Frankie, tell him to stop this.'
'Stephanie, be quiet,' Frankie said firmly. 'You know you want to be punished. You know you like it, so stop pretending.'
'Tell us you don't really want this to happen, and we'll stop,' I added, confident of her total submission. 'Tell us, Stephanie. Tell us to stop.'
Stephanie didn't make a sound, but merely hid her face in the cushions.
'If you complain from now on, we'll ignore you,' I said.
I signalled to Frankie and together we lifted Stephanie, carried her into the bedroom, and tossed her onto the bed.
In the half-light I searched the wardrobe for belts and, finding half a dozen or so, pulled them out and put them on the bed. Stephanie made no more protestations. She did tug on the belt binding her wrists, but only succeeded in pulling it tighter, and she tried to lever her ankles from the silk cord, but it was impossible; Frankie had bound her every bit as expertly as I had done. I smiled at my accomplice.
I returned to the closet and, finding a chiffon scarf, used it to gag Stephanie. I fastened it tightly over her mouth, and then stood back to admire our handiwork. She looked absolutely gorgeous, tied and helpless, her dress a tangled mess of material which barely concealed her charms from our hungry eyes.
We both picked up a belt and began to alternately and methodically lash our victim across her thighs; not viciously, but just enough to let her know who was in charge. Attempting to avoid the bite of the leather, Stephanie managed to squirm onto her front, but only succeeded in presenting us with her glorious rump. It represented a target just too appetising to resist. We rained lashes down on her white silken flesh, as the rain lashed down on the window pane. Stephanie squirmed under our blows, confusedly trying to seek relief from the pain that I knew she so desperately craved.
'Let's blindfold her, too,' Frankie suggested, searching the wardrobe for an appropriate scarf. Having found one, she pulled it roughly around Stephanie's head. She could not see now. She would not know where the next lash was coming from.
I manoeuvred Stephanie into a kneeling position, so her beautiful bottom perched up before us. I'm afraid I was just too weak to deny myself any longer. I allowed Frankie to welt Stephanie's lovely bottom a couple of times, and then I ordered her to untie her friend's ankles. Oh, how I loved being in control, to be able to do what I wanted with the two girls, as Frankie complied with my demand without question. Once the silk bond was removed she struck her friend with a couple more calculated strikes on the tops of her thighs, and then I climbed onto the bed, pulled Stephanie's legs apart, and shuffled closer. Clutching her succulent buttocks, I prised them apart and revealed her cute anus and her wet sex-lips.
I glanced at Frankie, and revelled in the fact that she was completely immersed in the sexual charge that pervaded the room.
I had conquered them both. How satisfying that realisation was.
'Now, Stephanie,' I whispered into her ear, the silk blindfold dancing lightly against my lips. 'I'm going to fuck you.' I felt the mattress sink as Frankie climbed onto it, and knew she was watching us closely. I straightened up, kneeling tall, opened Stephanie with my left thumb, and aimed my cock with my right hand. My helmet nudged between her soaking lips, and then one quick stab of my hips and my groin slapped against her welted and blotchy bottom. Her head rose and her blonde hair swept her back as I gripped her hips, held her as tight as possible, and ground against her lithe form.
I was in no hurry. I took her slowly with long steady strokes, each one bringing a smothered moan as Stephanie delighted in her pleasure after receiving so much pain.
'Do you like watching, Frankie?' I croaked, aware that my voice betrayed my mounting passions.
Frankie said nothing. Her eyes were frozen on the erotic tableau before her; her delirious friend groaning and bucking her hips, her breasts swinging within her dress as she rocked back and forth, and the point where my glistening cock pistoned in and out of her body. Lightening crackled outside the window and for a second the contours of our perspiring bodies were a flickering contrast of phosphorous white and deep shadow. Frankie inched closer, breathing lightly, and slid one hand between our legs and one between her own. As Stephanie and I headed towards our mutual orgasms Frankie masturbated with increasing urgency, and circled my driving cock tightly with her forefinger and thumb.
Stephanie slumped into the mattress and came, and the sight of her rapturous friend took Frankie over the edge too. I let myself go immediately, and my cock pulsed within the tight ring of finger and thumb as I discharged deep inside Stephanie.
We removed all of Stephanie's bondage and dozed together for a while, our limbs entwined and our fingers idly stroking and exploring. Once I had recovered I rolled onto Frankie. There was no resistance; indeed, she welcomed my approach.
We kissed passionately as Stephanie lay beside us, her eyes closed and her breathing slow and relaxed as she continued to repose.
This was a more languid screw. I entered Frankie, and we gently rolled our hips together. It was a complete contrast to my previous coupling, but no less enjoyable. Having ejaculated so recently I was able to maintain control for a long time. Frankie orgasmed quietly in my arms a number of times before I tensed, wormed my tongue into her welcoming mouth, and came inside her.
The storm outside had abated and the rain no longer lashed against the window, just as the storm in the room had abated.
Stephanie murmured in her sleep and cuddled into the two of us.
Frankie smiled up at me in the darkness. 'Oh, Jonathan,' she purred sleepily, 'that was just so, so nice.'
Chapter 11
If I recall everything I did in the following days, I would never finish telling my story. Too many tails, so to speak, for the tale. It was an incredible time. Never had I had one like it before in my entire life, and never maybe will I have one like it again.
A brief résumé: Frankie and Stephanie were guests in my borrowed apartment, both together and separately. Then, once I rang Anna, she came and, at length, pleasured my length in a surprising number of skilful and imaginative ways. And then of course there was Andrea who, now her mother had gone, found that she had much more time on her hands, and more and more often, me in her hands. Claudia also called round and, although she did not have much time, gave me a delightfully deft blow-job after I had made her bottom red raw with my belt.
And David.
What happened to David, my initial reason for coming here? From our several telephone conversations, it seemed that in nearly four weeks the man had visited every country in the world except for Argentina. I had berated him for stopping me from travelling, as he continually pleaded with me to hang on until his return, but this was a little disingenuous on my part. In truth, I was having such a good time that the thought of travelling anywhere -
even outside my borrowed apartment - seemed nonsensical. I was pleased that I had visited the city and seen its sights in the first couple of weeks, or my anecdotes of the place would have been unsuitable except for the most bawdiest of my friends.
In truth, before David's call, I was, for all the sexual gratification, beginning to get a little depressed at the prospect of my imminent return to dreary, wintry London. Reality was starting to slap me in the face. I had no job, no long-term place to live, nor much money, and a CV that was less than impressive; my future prospects did not look good. Andrea talked about several possibilities of working in Buenos Aires, but I was still a little unconfident about my Spanish, and nothing that she suggested sounded very realistic at a time when I needed to be very realistic indeed.
There was David, of course. If anybody was in a position to offer me a job, then it was he. But I had despaired of seeing him. Anyway, there was this pathetic thing I still uselessly harboured inside me called pride: I thought I could not live comfortably working for David, nor did I wish him to pull any strings for me.
No, it was most definitely time to face facts, maybe to grow up. Buenos Aires had been fantastic to me. It had cured itches both sexual and existential, and made me realise that more was possible in life, in all sorts of ways than I had thought. I had even begun - although it is something I thought I would never totally lose - to think of Marie in a less negative way. The bitterness resided but maybe didn't take up as much space as it had done when I had been so fresh from her betrayals.
So refreshed, I most certainly was. It was the resignation part I was finding difficult: resigning myself to London, to mediocrity, to cramped bedsits, to dirty tubes, and a greater degree of sexual abstinence than I had had here. But Buenos Aires was a holiday and all holidays must come to an end.
So David rang two days before I was to depart:
'Hello, Jonathan.'
'Hello David,' I said apathetically. David's jet-hopping and the certainty that I wouldn't see him were two things I had definitely resigned myself to. 'Where are you this time?'
David chuckled. 'I'm here, you bloody fool, in Buenos Aires. Look, they wanted me to fly to Santiago again, but I told them no way. I've had a mate here for four weeks and I haven't even had a chance to see him, not to mention the necessity of reacquainting myself with my wife.'
I had only some three hours previously reacquainted myself with his wife, thrashing her soapy body in the deluxe shower of my luxurious apartment.
'Great. Can I see you?'
'Don't move. I'll pick you up in twenty minutes.'
To give David his due, he did look completely shagged out, his face unhealthily ruddy and worn, his eyes red and a little listless. It was not age that was being unkind to him - he was still handsome - but his gruelling schedule had definitely taken its toll.
Seeing him that night was the first time in my life when I stopped envying him his success. As David always said - at the time I thought it had been with mock modesty - it was a question of swings and roundabouts. Maybe I wasn't doing so badly, after all. For all my lack of ambition and wealth, if you were going to put money on the coronary stakes, you would get better odds on David than you would on me.
He drove me in his BMW up to San Isidro, apologising for the absence of Andrea who had had something on, she had told him, and couldn't cancel because of the short notice he had given her of his return.
Driving through the leafy avenues of San Isidro made me think about Andrea, about that wonderful day and night I had spent with her and Claudia at her father's house; and only a few hours previously I had touched her ravishing body. I felt an intense stab of pain at the thought that I might never get to touch it again, not now that David was back in town. I hadn't known then, that afternoon as I kissed her and watched her get into the lift outside the apartment, that it could be the last time I would be with her. There wouldn't be any possibility of her driving me to the airport as she had intended, after having spent the day with me. Not now. It was one consequence of David's return that I hadn't considered until then. It was hard enough to leave Frankie and Stephanie and Anna and Claudia, but the thought of not seeing Andrea again was almost unbearable.
David parked his car outside the famous racetrack at San Isidro and took me to one of the most expensive parrillas in town.
Considering that we hadn't seen each other for so long, and both had expressed wholehearted desires to do so, the conversation between us in the car had been lapidary and stilted, David frequently apologising for being tired. That was excusable. I had no excuse. I didn't really know what to say to David any longer.
In the restaurant and a couple of drinks later, both of us had livened up a little.
'So what have you been doing, flying all around the world?' I asked.
'Breaking my balls. Visiting potential clients, sucking up to the rich and powerful, talking to editors, sub-editors, producers, assistant producers, deputy assistant producers, eating lousy hotel food, missing Andrea and generally wondering whether the whole fucking game is worth it.'
'You're tired?'
'I'm fucked, knackered, shagged out and depressed. These bastards are killing me. That's what I want to talk to you about.'
'What?'
'Do you need a job?'
'Pardon?'
'Would you like a job?'
'What type of job?'
'How about my job?'
I started laughing.
'Look, I'm serious. When I was complaining to them about the amount of flying around they've been making me do, I also complained about a lot of other things. I had a right old ding-dong with them, told them I was tired of being their troubleshooter. Well, the long and the short of it is—'
'They fired you?' I joked.
'No. They pushed me upstairs.'
'To do what?'
'Well, as they told me, they haven't exactly defined all my responsibilities. They're negotiable, but I'm more or less going to be head of production. But all I care about is that I don't have to travel around so much. A nice little office in some huge office block, a few minions, a good salary and then home to bed. It's enough for me these days.'
'Is it still current affairs?'
'God, no - that was light years ago. No, now I'm assistant executive manager of the whole kit and caboodle, the next big chief in line, and unfortunately in charge of everything: current affairs, sport, movies, nature, music, adult entertainment, the lot.'
'And now you're going to be the main man?'
'More or less, but from here. Not so much travelling. You wouldn't believe what it's been like, this last six months. They've been making this big push into Europe. I won't bore you with all the technical details, but this cable station wants to be a world player. They probably haven't got a chance but there is big money behind them. Gomez, the owner, wants to be the next media magnate. He's rich, this Gomez - all dodgy money, of course. The whole thing started as a way of laundering his dirty drug dollars. Now he's rich and respectable. He's got the politicians in the pocket. The judges and the establishment all cream their pants every time he bumps into them. It's a shoddy affair, I tell you. But never mind that. I'll tell you where you come in.'
'Where I come in?' I repeated, still incredulous that David was seriously offering me employment.
'Listen. I've thought about it. I know you're smart. A chronic underachiever, but we can sort that out. They want people in Europe. People who can make small talk with the people who matter. They want a little respectable Englishman who knows the ropes and plays legit.'
'But I don't have any experience of—'
'You don't need any experience. I need to have someone I can trust. Somebody on the inside of the operation.'
'A snitch?'
'No, not a snitch. Just somebody who'll be down the line with me, who won't give me bullshit and who talks the same l
anguage.'
'And what would my job be, exactly?' I still wasn't totally convinced that David wasn't having a very cruel laugh at my expense.
'You'd be based in Europe. And you'd have more money than you've ever seen in your life. You'd get the opportunity, now that you're a single man, to have as many beautiful women as your heart desires, plus a company car. You get my drift: have a few people to run errands for you, expense account...'
'Yes, but what is the job?'
'Basically to do my travelling for me. To tell whoever it is that you have to tell what I want you to tell.'
'Won't I end up as shagged out as you are?'
'Maybe, but I tell you something: I would love this job if I was a free man, if I didn't love my wife, if I didn't love this city. But you, you have no ties. You have the chance to travel, to make money and to have a different woman every night. Sounds good to me. Look, you could try it for a year. You told me you haven't got another—'
'But—'
'I know what your but is. Your but is your pride. You don't like the prospect of working for me: that's it?'
'That's partly it.'
'Look, I know you. I know you are sound. I trust you. It's not a cushy number. I expect you to work, but the rewards are fantastic. You wouldn't get the chance of a job like this in Europe, I'm telling you. And I'm a damn good boss. No special favours, but I'm fair. Honest.'
'I'll think about it.'
David was, of course, right. Nobody in England would give me the chance that he was presently offering me: not with my CV and my abysmal record of failure. An expense account and more money than I knew how to spend.
I had taken over his long-term girlfriend. I had recently borrowed his wife. Why not step into his career shoes, too?
But something still niggled, didn't feel right, apart from my reservation about having David as my boss. The prospect of working in the stressed world of cable television was daunting. Perhaps I was also a little enamoured or at least snug with my own relentless failure. Maybe I was too old to become a dashing success.