by John Argus
Gwen still considered sending the weasel away, but the thought of an angry Richardson dissuaded her from being so rash. So she pressed the button that opened the lower lift doors and watched him shuffle in and then come into view of the second camera set in the lift. Then she hurried into Richardson’s bedroom and quickly put on one of his silk robes.
She was back just as the lift doors glided silently open and Kenton shoved the box out and into the hall. ‘Here you are,’ he said, panting quite heavily and mopping sweat from his large brow with a hanky. Clearly he was not the fittest individual in the world.
‘Um, Mr Richardson isn’t available at the moment,’ Gwen said hesitantly.
‘Oh, I know,’ Kenton wheezed. ‘He said he wouldn’t be, but it’s only you I need to see, anyway.’ Gwen looked at him suspiciously, but he merely went on. ‘I’m sure they’ll all fit properly but Mr Richardson said you were to try everything on before signing for them.’
He opened the box and first drew out a pair of stiletto shoes. The heel was, she guessed, six inches in height, and she shook her head in amazement as he knelt and buckled them onto her feet without saying another word. They fitted perfectly, but walking in them felt quite bizarre, and she knew she would need more practice before she could move with any grace in heels so high.
Kenton removed them, then turned back to the box and drew out a pair of boots. Gwen had never seen their like; they too had six-inch stiletto heels and looked as though they’d reach the tops of her thighs.
Bill unzipped the right one and held it out for her, and with some difficulty she slipped her foot into it, pushing down until it folded over her ankle and then lower calf. The leather drew up higher, and he opened her robe without any hesitation, seemingly ignoring her nudity as he zipped the boot slowly up past her knee and up her thigh. The top of the boot was tapered, with the inside snug against the flesh of her inner thigh just below her sex, and the outer edge riding up to her hip.
He quickly helped her into the second boot and then stood back. Despite her discomfort at being alone with the creep, Gwen was intrigued by the boots, although more than a little appalled at the idea of trying to walk in them.
‘How’s the fit?’ he asked.
‘Um, they seem to fit nicely,’ she confirmed, walking slowly and carefully back and forth.
‘Excellent,’ he beamed. He dug into the box again and came out with a pair of leather gloves. Like the boots, they were long, reaching up to her armpits. She gazed at herself in the mirrored wall before the elevators and felt a thrum of sexual elation at the sight of herself, barely able to keep from sliding a hand down between her legs, even though he was drooling behind her. And then a leather G-string and bra made her feel less naked.
The next item to be drawn from the box shocked her briefly; a T-shaped leather belt, the horizontal strip for her waist and the vertical strip to snake between her thighs and fasten at the back. In the centre of the latter length of leather was a long, thick, leather protrusion – a dildo at least eight or nine inches long.
Kenton held it up with a salacious leer. ‘Mr Richardson said you have to try on everything, miss,’ he slavered. Gwen looked away and considered refusing the instruction, but even after only one day under the control of Richardson her tolerance for such embarrassments had increased significantly.
‘Very well, if that’s what he wants,’ she said. ‘But not with you leering at me.’ She took the belt into the bedroom and removed the G-string, then examined the thing, feeling a wicked bubble of excitement in the pit of her stomach. She fed it between her legs and slowly pushed the dildo up into her pussy, feeling wildly sluttish as she did. Then she buckled the belt around her waist and drew the vertical strap up at the back, where it buckled together.
With a red face Gwen ran her fingers over the device in awe, and then walked unsteadily back to where Kenton was eagerly waiting in the hall.
‘Meant to be tighter,’ he said, then unbuckled the rear strap, tugged it up harder, and then fastened it again. Gwen felt the pressure jam up against and into her sex, but did not protest in any way.
Getting on with his task with evident relish, Kenton removed her bra without asking and lifted a sort of halter out of the box. It fitted snugly beneath her breasts, lifting and squeezing them firmly together.
The straps then continued up to fasten behind her neck, and a final strap crossed horizontally over the top of her breasts, pinching them in a form of tight leather bondage.
‘Excellent,’ he said, running his fingers reverently over the straps.
A leather hood followed and Gwen eyed it doubtfully, but let him fold it over her head without complaint. It had a hole for her mouth, two for her eyes and two smaller ones for her nostrils. Then came a ball-gag, which Kenton gleefully fed into her mouth and fastened at the back of her head, forcing her jaw wide and pinning her tongue down.
By this time Gwen was meekly letting him do whatever he wished, and made no objection when he slipped her fitted leather restraints around her gloved wrists and then linked them together behind her back.
He quickly produced several small locks, attaching them to the buckles holding the gag and belt in place and snapping them closed.
‘Mr Richardson said I was to prepare you for his return,’ he told her. ‘He wants to find you waiting for him in some of your delicious new outfits.’
Kenton fed restraints around her ankles and attached a bar between them to keep her legs apart, then strapped a padded leather blindfold over her eyes. Gwen heard a few sounds after that, but was then shocked when he said goodbye and left her as she was.
She felt extremely aroused, but now also extremely annoyed. Once more she was left tied up with nothing to occupy her spinning mind but nagging discomfort. With no small effort she managed to shuffle back and to the side, to where she knew there was a chair, and, with quite some difficulty, sat down to wait for Richardson’s return. She tested the restraints without much optimism, and they proved to be as immoveable as she suspected they would be.
Chapter 7
A short time later the sound of the lift rising pulled Gwen out of the chair and she stood waiting in anticipation for his arrival, but cringed when she heard his voice and realised he was talking to someone else.
‘Just put them over there,’ he said.
Knowing she was all but naked in front of a stranger was not quite as shocking as it would have been only a day or so before, but the bizarre outfit she wore still had her slowly shaking her head in denial that this could be happening.
‘Hey, what a beauty,’ a man said from just in front of her, and then she felt fingers at the back of her head and the blindfold was removed, causing her to blink against the sudden light.
There were two people with Richardson. One was the blonde girl from the dress store with several boxes she had just finished setting on the table. She gave Gwen a suggestive look from the corner of her eye.
The other was a man of similar age to his host, well dressed, but nothing much to look at. As Gwen eyed him cautiously Richardson dismissed the blonde and she left, throwing another wistful glance at Gwen as the closing mouth of the lift swallowed her.
‘So David, what do you think?’ Richardson asked of his companion, seemingly unaware of the silent contact between the two girls.
‘I’m extremely jealous,’ the newcomer said.
‘Think I should keep her like this?’ Richardson asked conversationally, as though discussing a new pet.
The newcomer shook his head thoughtfully, his eyes still glued to Gwen. ‘Not permanently, although she looks a real treat.’
Richardson bent down and removed the spreader bar. ‘Come into the lounge,’ he said, waving the man forward and then guiding Gwen by the arm.
‘So, what’s her name?’ the man asked.
‘Anne,’ Richardson replied, a
nd then introduced them with a formality that belied the outlandishness of the situation. ‘Anne, meet David Cotter – David Cotter, meet Anne.’
She turned her eyes on him, glaring, thankful he had maintained her anonymity but wishing he had come up with something more stylish than Anne.
‘So, does she obey you in everything?’ Cotter asked with lust in his bulging eyes as they ravished her.
‘She still requires disciplining from time to time,’ Richardson said, sitting back in one of the antique chairs. ‘And she does still have a lot to learn.’
‘I’ll bet,’ Cotter replied, his voice thick with lust.
Richardson snapped his fingers at her and she turned as directed, so he could unfasten her restraints. He cupped her bottom for a moment and then slapped it lightly. ‘Brandy for Mr Cotter,’ he said. ‘And I’ll have a scotch and soda.’
Gwen obeyed, moving as smoothly as she could in the high heels, then prepared their drinks at the small bar and returned. For some reason feeling the need to play to her role diligently, she knelt before Richardson and bowed her head as she presented his glass, cradling it in her cupped hands.
‘Very good, slut,’ he said.
She rose, walked the few feet to Cotter, and then eased down onto her knees again, presenting his glass in the same manner. His eyes and mouth were wide and she noticed an evident tenting of his trousers as he took the glass.
She returned to Richardson who locked her wrists behind her back again, then pulled her up to sit astride his lap, where he idly fondled her breasts as Cotter looked on hungrily. ‘Yes, it’s taken quite of lot of training so far, but she’s beginning to learn her place,’ he said airily. ‘She’s already learned to enjoy crawling.’
‘How did you find her?’ Cotter demanded, the glass trembling slightly in his hand.
‘You have to be able to recognise submissiveness in a woman, David, and help her to recognise it as well.’
Gwen watched Cotter closely, basking in his obvious hunger and desire, and then felt Richardson unlocking the belt; and she felt a sudden rush of embarrassment, excitement and daring.
‘Spread your legs,’ he ordered, and she obeyed, blushing behind the hood, parting her thighs so Cotter would have an unrestricted view as the belt was moved aside and he saw the dildo embedded between her soft, moist lips.
‘Hell!’ he exclaimed enthusiastically.
Richardson pulled an inch or so out, then slid it back in. His fingers moved up and began to stroke her clitoris, and she rolled her hips in helpless excitement even as her embarrassment grew. ‘She’s a sexual animal now,’ Richardson said.
And that was true. Gwen could feel the sexual heat intensifying between her legs, flooding through her belly and catching her breath in her lungs. She breathed raggedly through the small holes in the hood, grunting into the gag as she spread her thighs wider still.
Her gaze remained locked on Cotter, watching the lust reflected in his eyes and face, the amazement and awe and need etched there. She felt smug arrogance at the way her body was affecting him, at his desperate desire for her. And along with it was a wild sense of freedom at her anonymity. She didn’t have to care what he thought of her, or who he told about her. She was a faceless body to him, an unknown object of desire.
She groaned more loudly, wanting to ensure he heard her through the gag, and began to roll her groin more urgently against Richardson’s finger. He pumped the dildo in and out for a while and she mewled and writhed against him. Then he resumed fingering her clitoris and she laid her head back on his shoulder, rolling it from side to side as pleasure and excitement swamped her.
She came, writhing on his lap, breasts heaving as she breathed deeply and legs twitching, and her fingers clutching desperately at nothing – at thin air.
Richardson lifted her head off his shoulder and held her upright as he undid the belt completely and pulled it away from her limp body.
‘I’d give anything to have a slut like that,’ Cotter breathed huskily.
‘They’re quite rare and very special girls,’ Richardson informed him soberly, ‘and they don’t give themselves to just anyone.’ He undid the gag and gently worked the ball out of her mouth, then wiped her wet lips with a handkerchief with paternal tenderness.
‘I think Mr Cotter has become terribly aroused by you, slut,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you should give him a little attention; after all, he is a guest here, and I wouldn’t want him to think ill of my hospitality.’
No, Gwen really didn’t want to please Cotter, but she knew she really had very little choice in the matter.
‘Show her how her wanton behaviour has affected you, David,’ Richardson told his guest. ‘She must learn to be responsible for her actions.’
Cotter needed no second invitation; he fumbled desperately with his trousers, tugged them open, and then his purple erection bobbed up in his lap as he hungrily grappled them and his underwear down to his thighs.
There was a tense pause, the only sound that of Cotter’s rapid breathing, and then, knowing it was what Richardson demanded, she slipped feline-like from his lap onto the floor, and glided slowly forward on her knees.
Cotter’s bulging eyes were glued to her, his mouth was hanging loosely open making him look like an imbecile, and it occurred to Gwen that despite being the prisoner it was she who was utterly in control of the man. She had, without even touching him, reduced him to a state of sweating, panting, drooling depravity. She felt a surge of contempt for him and pride in herself, then moved closer and laid her hands on his thighs. His erection jerked and he again gasped, ‘Hell!’
Gwen held his trousers and pants, tugging gently, and he hastily raised his hips, letting her pull them off. He seemed utterly unaware of how stupid he appeared.
She had felt something similar towards men before, but not on such a scale; she felt a true sense of power as she slowly licked her way along his inner thigh, nuzzled his erection aside with her leather-clad face, and kissed one of his testicles. She pursed her lips, and then began to slowly apply suction until she drew it into her mouth. Her lips and tongue massaged it as his shaky hands seized her head, trying to force his erection into her mouth, but she resisted with ease.
‘You have to let her perform as I’ve trained her,’ Richardson said.
Sensing Cotter’s compliance, Gwen drew his testicle in once more, again massaging it with her tongue, and then let it slowly fall from her mouth as she licked the underside of his erection and swallowed his other testicle.
‘Hell…’ Cotter moaned in disbelief. ‘I’m going to come before she even gets to my cock…’
‘Don’t worry,’ Richardson said smoothly. ‘Just let her do what she does best.’
Gwen licked at his testicles further as he reached down and roughly squeezed her breasts, wincing slightly at his crudeness and force, then finally licked her way up the length of his erection and kissed the head. She pursed her lips in a gentle kiss, and then sank her mouth down over the head, letting it slide between her moist lips into the warm confines of her maw.
He came at once, groaning and bucking his hips as her tongue writhed against the underside of the head, and he went limp very shortly after that.
Gwen drew his flaccid cock into her mouth down to the base and sucked powerfully. It took little time for it to stiffen once more, and soon he was panting like a dog and begging for more. By then she was hot enough to want more herself, and as if he sensed it Richardson called her off, ordered her to turn, then lay her cheek down on the rug.
She did so, raising her buttocks and spreading her legs invitingly towards Cotter. It was an intensely degrading position so far as she was concerned – and therefore intensely arousing.
He fairly tumbled out of his chair and seized her hips, prodding his revitalised cock against her sex and thrusting desperately. Gwen tensed at the sa
vage penetration, then gloried in it, knees spread, her pussy open and perfectly positioned.
He used her like an animal, like they were both animals, and she was soon caught up in the crude wantonness of the moment, panting for breath as her knees ground back and forth on the rug and his cock pounded furiously inside her. Through misty eyes she gazed up at Richardson, who sat passively observing.
She could feel her climax building, knew it was seconds away, and then Cotter squealed like a pig and came, slouched over her back.
Richardson motioned her to his side, so she wearily extricated herself from the sweaty tangle of Cotter’s limbs and crawled forward on her belly, licking Richardson’s feet, electrified at the show she was putting on, shaking with excitement. He raised her to her feet and she spread her legs. Cotter looked on from the floor, slumped, exhausted, but still wide-eyed.
Richardson’s fingers slipped inside her and his thumb stroked her clitoris. She watched Cotter, grinding her hips against Richardson’s fingers, then came suddenly, arching her back, rolling her head and lewdly grinding her hips.
Shortly afterwards the gag was replaced, the dildo reinserted and the belt tightly refastened, and she was ordered to kneel at Richardson’s side as the two men discussed some business and sipped brandy. Then Cotter left, with a last lecherous look at her, and she knew that he would never forget her, and that he would spend all his time searching for a girl who would behave as she did.
‘Don’t feel too smug,’ Richardson said, slapping her on the bottom. ‘He isn’t much of a sophisticate, nor much of a man.’
She looked at him silently above the gag and he slowly removed it, and then led her to the bedroom. He removed the hood and belt and she sighed with relief.
‘Your hair’s a mess,’ he said. ‘Take a shower. I’ll not be wanting to see you again this evening, so take an early night and get some rest.’
Gwen wanted to protest that she’d been resting all day and didn’t want to go to bed, but thought better of it, and pouted sulkily as he left her alone without another word.