by G. C. Scott
‘Gretchen, go over to Pamela and give her the Crocodile Dundee test,’ Frau Bern ordered.
‘Which test, Madame?’ Gretchen asked.
‘Never mind,’ Frau Bern said. ‘Just go over to Pamela and feel how the chain is secured.’
Gretchen flushed again but did as she was told. Her eyes widened, and she gasped in surprise when she touched Richard’s balls. She let the chain fall as if it had burnt her and turned away in embarrassment.
Hannelore Bern laughed quietly at her employee’s discomfiture. ‘You see now that you are not the only one who has a hard time, Gretchen. Margaret expects her people to do anything she asks.’ To them both she said, ‘Get dressed. We are going to finish early today and go out to my chateau. There we will have the privacy to get better acquainted with one another.’ Hannelore watched as Gretchen put on her clothes.
Richard picked up his skirt, but hesitated before putting it on. ‘May I use the toilet before we leave?’ he asked.
Hannelore Bern pointed to the file storage room. ‘There is a toilet in there. Be quick about it.’
Inside the smaller room, Richard saw another door which had to be the toilet. When he was finished, he readjusted the tights and corselet before putting the skirt back on. As he left the toilet, he saw that the file room also contained a bank of video monitors, which he guessed were part of the bank’s closed circuit-security camera system.
When he returned to the office, he saw that Gretchen was dressed again. Hannelore Bern pushed a button and spoke into an intercom on the desk, ordering the chauffeur to bring the car around to the private entrance of the bank and to wait for her. Without another word, she led the way to the door and out into a courtyard which formed a private entrance to her office. There was a chauffeur-driven Mercedes waiting, the motor running and the driver standing by the door to help his employer in. He said nothing about his extra passengers. The gates opened to an electronic signal from the car, much as those at Margaret’s estate. They drove out into the streets of Basle and on out of the city.
Nine
The country house of Hannelore Bern was much grander than Margaret’s. There was the same high wall and electronically controlled gates, the same long drive from the road, and the same air of a guarded fortress. But there were real guards too, walking through the trees and over the lawns. Real guards with real dogs. It would be much more difficult to escape from this house than from Margaret’s. The chateau itself was of stone, a villa with a columned portico, a vast building in the Roman-revival style so admired by Albert Speer. The grounds stretched so far that the enclosing wall could not be seen on the far side. A stand of mature trees, really a small forest, grew down the mountainside and marched almost to the door of a small cottage and a large barn in the distance.
It was towards this distant cottage that Hannelore Bern directed the chauffeur. Richard guessed that these might be the guest quarters, and he was partly right. They all got out in front of the cottage, Gretchen carefully keeping her back straight to ease the strap running between her legs. Richard was once more conscious of the chain dangling between his own legs as he slid across the seat and got out. The chauffeur opened the door for Frau Bern and stood aside as they entered. There was a look of speculation in his eyes as he glanced at Gretchen, but he said nothing.
‘Pamela, where are you staying in Basle?’
‘At the Alte Hannover in Bahnhof Strasse,’ he replied.
‘Give your key to Gunter here,’ she ordered. Turning to the chauffeur, Hannelore said, ‘Go to the hotel, collect Fraulein Rhodes’s belongings and bring them back here.’
Hannelore Bern dismissed him, and as soon as he had gone she became once more the mistress among her slaves. ‘Gretchen, go to the barn and bring back your harness.’
Gretchen nodded and departed silently.
‘Pamela,’ she went on, with an ironic smile, ‘you can make tea for us. Come with me.’
Hannelore Bern led him towards the adjoining cottage. ‘We are going to have some sex games, we three,’ she explained. ‘Margaret says you are quite an interesting person, adaptable, malleable. She says you are learning to submit. We shall see. I like submissive people: they are so much easier to deal with. Though I can deal with almost any kind.’
Richard didn’t doubt it.
‘Go through into the kitchen,’ Frau Bern directed, with a wave of her hand. ‘Make some snacks for us, and something to drink. Something to sustain us through some strenuous exercise.’
Richard went through into the kitchen, while Hannelore disappeared towards the rooms at the rear of the cottage. The kitchen was large and airy, with tiled floors and oak cabinets. The ceiling was high, with varnished exposed beams from which hung the cooking utensils. Through the curtained windows, he saw Gretchen walking towards the barn, with her characteristic straight-backed stride. She went into the barn through a side door, and presently emerged carrying a leather holdall. Richard set about making sandwiches. Gretchen came in through the kitchen door, and he could see by the pinkness of her cheeks and the shortness of her breath that she was excited. She was obviously looking forward to what was to come, and he wondered what she had in the holdall to affect her so strongly.
She started to speak to Richard, then abruptly looked beyond him. At the same time, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps: the distinct clack of high-heeled shoes. A transformed Hannelore Bern entered the kitchen from the house side, and Richard forgot about Gretchen as he stared at her. She had shed her sober business clothes and stood before them in a shiny black leather corselet. It hugged her figure, and Richard felt himself growing erect as he stared at her. It was impossible to take his eyes away. Her breasts were pushed up and forward aggressively, her already small waist was almost wasplike now, her sex was both covered and yet somehow emphasised by the tight leather between her legs. She wore dark grey tights and black shoes with stiletto heels to complete the effect.
Hannelore Bern was at the same time immensely charged with sexuality and beyond reach of any contact. The tight leather garment both offered her to view and protected her from any approach. Richard felt his breath grow short as he stared at her. Naked, she would be just a beautiful, desirable and available woman. The world was full of them. But, garbed in this tight leather sheath, she was menacing and impregnable as well. The effect was stunning. And daunting. Hannelore Bern carried a whip in her hand, the end trailing on the floor.
‘Gretchen,’ she said, ‘come with me.’ To Richard she added, ‘Come back into the front room when you have finished here.’
Richard finished making the sandwiches, found a tray, and arranged the food on it before going back into the front room. Gretchen was nude. Hannelore Bern was in the act of unlocking the padlock that secured her saddle strap. When the strap was loosened, the younger woman relaxed her taut muscles and gave a low groan of relief. She slipped out of the strap and laid it on the sofa beside the holdall she had brought from the barn. Without being told, she opened it and began to take out a different type of harness, more elaborate, more suitable for a horse, it seemed to Richard, than a woman. Yet there was no doubt that it was intended for Gretchen. She was flushed and short of breath as she finished laying the straps out on the sofa.
‘Pamela,’ Frau Bern said, with another of her ironic smiles, ‘you and Gretchen are going to play pony girls. Unfortunately, we don’t have a harness prepared for you, but I’ll make do with what we have. But first we’ll have some tea and something to eat. That’s so much more civilised.’
Gretchen looked even more tense at Hannelore’s words. Richard guessed that she was already aroused by the presence of her harness, and wanted to get on with it. By forcing her to wait, Hannelore was deliberately toying with her. When Hannelore sat down, she crossed her legs, causing Richard to become aware of his own excitement. He could feel his cock growing erect as she swung her leg idly. Richard and Gretchen drank their tea in a tense silence. Gretchen nibbled at a sandwich, obviously preoccupied.
Hannelore was quite relaxed, smiling from time to time as she dawdled over hers.
Finally she was finished. As she stood, she said to Richard, ‘First you will help me fit Gretchen into her harness, and then I will deal with you.’ She beckoned Richard to her.
Gretchen stood still, silent and expectant, a fine sheen of sweat now breaking out on her face as she waited to be harnessed. Her nipples were taut and crinkly with her excitement. Richard wondered how many women who loved bondage, pain and submission he was going to encounter before this was over. If it ever was going to be over. He didn’t want this to end, he admitted to himself. And, if Helena meant what she had said, it needn’t. He wondered just how many women and men walked the streets looking for what he had stumbled upon, and never found it. He was one of the lucky ones.
Hannelore handed him a leather belt with several dangling straps.
‘Put this around her waist,’ she ordered, busying herself with a harness designed to fit Gretchen’s head. There was a leather cap which fitted tightly, leaving her long hair hanging down her back. There was a metal bit which went between the young woman’s teeth, with rings at either end to which reins could be attached. More straps were designed to secure it in place and prevent her from ejecting it. It was obviously a gag as well.
Richard meanwhile fitted the waist belt, feeling Gretchen tremble at his touch. Or was it merely her excitement at being harnessed? Together he and Hannelore secured the buckles and straps which imprisoned the young woman, leaving her ready to be secured to a cart or wagon. As a final touch, Hannelore added a tail made of horsehair. The wooden handle of the tail went into Gretchen’s anus and was secured by a strap, the long tail hanging down her legs as far as her knees. She groaned as the handle was pushed home, trembling as a nervous horse might. She stood still in her harness, waiting to be led away.
Hannelore then turned to Richard. ‘Take off your clothes,’ she said.
Richard stripped off the skirt, jacket and white silk blouse he had worn for the meeting at the bank. The black nylon slip followed. He laid everything neatly on a chair, as Margaret and Ingrid had taught him. He knew Hannelore would demand the same neatness. He hesitated, standing before her in the corselet and tights, the chain dangling between his legs. A thin trail of sweat descended from under the wig to run down his face. He too was nervous, uncertain of where this was going to lead. At an impatient nod from Hannelore, he pulled the tight corselet off and removed the black tights. The wig followed. Naked, he stood still while she inspected him. His cock, taped to his belly, was stiff and throbbing.
Hannelore took a long thin strip of leather from the pile Gretchen had brought and handed it to Richard. ‘Tie Gretchen’s hands behind her back,’ she directed. ‘She does not enjoy this unless she is bound helplessly.’
Wordlessly, Gretchen turned her back to Richard and brought her hands behind her. As he tied her wrists, he could feel her trembling still with anticipation. The horsehair tail bobbed as her stomach and rectal muscles contracted in excitement. Sexual arousal, he reflected, comes from the strangest sources.
When he had done, Hannelore tested the cords. She shook her head. ‘Tighter,’ she said. ‘Gretchen likes the eords to bite in as she works.’
Obediently, Richard unknotted the cords and retied them, pulling them until Gretchen winced slightly. He knotted them and stood aside, waiting for the next step.
Hannelore went to a sideboard and came back with a pair of handcuffs and a long, thin silvery chain. ‘Now you,’ she said, motioning him to turn around.
Richard turned, bringing his hands behind his back as Gretchen had done. He felt the steel bands close around his wrists, and he remembered how Margaret had done the same thing to him. He tried to repress the slight shiver of anticipation, but Hannelore had felt it.
‘You are eager too? Good. I like people to enjoy these little games. Now hold still while I make a lead for you.’
Hannelore fastened the long chain to the shorter one locked around his balls. Taking a broad leather belt from the treasure-trove Gretchen had brought, she buckled it around his waist. Then she gathered Gretchen’s reins and Richard’s chain and led the two of them towards the door. Feeling that insistent tug on their respective but quite different tethers, they had no choice except to follow. Hannelore led them across the yard in the bright sunlight. Richard was uneasy about being outdoors, in plain view of anyone passing. What could a naked man in handcuffs and being led by the balls say to a passer-by? But there were none. The size and seclusion of Hannelore Bern’s estate ensured that there were no strangers nearby. But what about the staff and servants which such a large establishment would require? Surely they would notice. But of course they would not say anything if they valued their jobs. Hannelore looked as if she might be quite severe towards anyone who spoke of what went on here. Losing their jobs might turn out to be the least of their worries.
Hannelore led them into the barn, using the same side door that Gretchen had used earlier. The building was large, part garage and part storeroom. But what Richard noticed at once was the light racing cart standing against one wall, resting on its thin bicycle-type tyres with its long poles standing upright. This couldn’t be anything except Gretchen’s cart.
Hannelore Bern, severe and exciting in her black leather corselet, tights and stiletto-heeled shoes, strode over to the cart. She set it down on its wheels, turning it so that she could harness them to it. She beckoned Richard to her.
‘You first. I want you behind Gretchen, where you can see her but will not be able to touch her.’
The long chain dragging on the floor, Richard moved to stand between the poles of the cart. Hannelore fastened the straps dangling from his waist belt to the poles. She beckoned Gretchen over, and in the same businesslike fashion she set about securing the young woman to the cart. There was a curved wooden frame that slid on to the poles, closing them inside the narrow space. Hannelore slipped this down until it was just in front of the place where Gretchen was secured. Hannelore clamped the bar in place before making the final adjustments to the harness. She led the reins from Gretchen’s bit around Richard on either side and laid them on the seat. She led the chain between his legs and laid it in the same place. He could see how she planned to control her team of ‘horses’.
‘You’re not going to shout for help, are you?’ Hannelore asked him. ‘I don’t really want to gag you. You’ll need all your breath for our little exercise.’
Richard shook his head. Hannelore smiled briefly and turned away to open the double doors of the barn. They slid easily in their tracks, and the sunlight streamed over the pair harnessed to the cart as she mounted the seat and picked up the whip. When she was settled, Hannelore shook out the reins and let her whip fall lightly across Richard’s bottom, a reminder of who was in control. Richard and Gretchen pulled the cart out into the bright yard.
She guided them mainly by Gretchen’s reins, as one does with a horse, and they moved over the open ground towards the distant grove of trees. ‘Follow Gretchen,’ Hannelore Bern commanded. ‘She knows the way.’
Gretchen leant into her harness and pulled, her bottom thrust back towards Richard and her tail brushing his legs. Hannelore’s whip caught him again, and he guessed that she wanted him to pull harder. He too leant forward, and the cart moved more quickly towards the cover of the trees. Their cover seemed inviting, a screen from the other eyes which he still imagined were gazing at the bizarre spectacle they all made.
There was a bridle path into the grove. It appeared to be well trodden, but not by horses. There was soft grass underfoot. Hannelore guided her team on to it and touched them both with the whip. ‘Faster,’ she ordered.
Richard did not know how fast they were supposed to go, so he matched Gretchen’s pace. If Hannelore was not satisfied, she would soon let them know. As they entered the shelter of the trees, Richard became less anxious about being seen. He was now more aware of Hannelore Bern sitting just behind him in her tight leather c
ostume, and of Gretchen harnessed just in front of him, her bizarre tail dangling down her legs as she pulled. His cock stiffened against his belly, though just what he could do about either woman was not clear to him. What might be done to him was likewise unknown, but exciting. In the meantime, he and Gretchen pulled the cart along the path, becoming warmer and more sweaty by the minute.
Hannelore flicked them with the whip from time to time, not so much to inflict pain as to remind them that she was controlling them, and that it was in her power to make them suffer as much as she wished. Gretchen seemed to know where they were going, and she pushed forward eagerly in her harness. The path was dappled by sunlight and shadow, the light falling through gaps in the canopy of leaves on to Gretchen’s nude body as she strained at her harness. The whip rose and fell, touching Richard now lightly, now more heavily.
The ride went on and on. Richard guessed they must be deep in the forest, but he could not tell how far they were from the house, or from any other houses that might lie nearby. He hoped there would be no one to see them. But at the same time, there was a queer excitement in the knowledge that they might be seen at any moment. How would Hannelore Bern explain herself to a casual walker who might come upon them? Probably she would not feel any need to explain. She would not be embarrassed. It was only he who felt that way.
When they came to a wider clearing in the forest, Hannelore tugged on the chain fastened to Richard’s scrotum, an unmistakable signal to stop. Richard didn’t know if she had tugged the reins to halt Gretchen at the same time, but the young woman stopped as well. There was a creak and a shifting of weight as Hannelore dismounted from her chariot. She came to stand before them, smiling slightly and looking even more stunning and bizarre in her leather costume in the middle of the forest. She reached out to touch Richard’s cock.