To Obey Her

by Jillian Boyd

  The Shame Train

  C.A. Bell

  Standing on the eerily quiet platform, she watches her long red hair dance in the autumn wind before taking out her mobile phone and dialling his number.

  “Hello?” he answers.

  “Are you where I told you to be?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Yes, I am, what?” she snaps.

  The air fills with silence.

  “Mistress,” she prompts.

  “Yes, Mistress.””Good. Don’t move until I tell you to.”

  “Yes, Mis - “

  She hangs up and strolls towards the board to check the ETA of her train.

  With five minutes to spare, she walks through the subway to the car park, and takes out a cigarette. Striking a match, she slowly drags on the cancerous stick as the flame ignites the end and smoke begins to twist in the night air. Inhaling deeply, she leans back against the wall and gets her mind ready for the night.

  Tonight had taken a lot of preparation and she was worried that she may have overlooked a detail or two. Still, this is what he asked for.

  When he called the agency earlier in the week after looking on their website, he had chosen Georgia’s profile over the other eighteen, and requested that she spank, humiliate and use him. And that was just what she was going to do.

  Finishing her cigarette, she stubs it out on the brick wall and disposes of the butt before heading back to her waiting place.

  Positioned back on the platform, she glances down the track and follows the blurry lights of the train until they come into focus and pass her. Inspecting the capacity of the train as it slows to a noisy stop, she strides down the platform in her black boots to the last carriage, presses the button, and waits for the doors to part.

  Stepping on and scanning the carriage, she spots her victim, heads down the aisle, and takes a seat one row back from him on the opposite side. Watching him through the gap between the seats in front, she locks her eyes on him and observes.

  He’s fidgety. He crosses his legs, runs his fingers through his dark hair, and clears his throat several times. Amused at watching him shift in his seat and become nervous, she faces the window as the doors shut with a gush of hydraulic air.

  Knowing almost exactly how long she has to fulfil his wish, she takes out her mobile phone and waits for the train to make its first of six stops before it arrives at London Paddington.

  For the first five minutes of the journey, she checks him out using the reflection in the window.

  The man is young, of medium build, has dark brown hair, and is wearing a grey suit. In front of him on the table is the book that she requested he bring so she knew it was him. The man is handsome. Handsome enough for her to question why he needs to pay for this kind of thing.

  After the train has made its first stop and she has finished giving the young man a once-over, she composes a text and sends it to him.

  Follow me.

  ***

  Reading the text, he swallows hard and his cock starts to thicken at the two words he just read and imagined her whispering in his head.

  Watching the redhead stand and hold onto the seats for stability, he waits until she has passed, picks up his book, and follows as instructed.

  Glancing at his reflection in the window, she heads for the bathroom. Gripping the filthy metal handle, she opens the door and steps into the cleaner-than-expected toilet.

  His mind starts to rush with blood as he watches her enter and leave the door open. Was he supposed to follow her in there?

  As they end up face to face for the first time, she smiles and says, “Get in and lock the door.”

  Feeling the blood rush from his head to his cock, he enters the small cubicle, says nothing and twists the lock behind him, not taking his eyes from her emerald cat-like irises.

  Blinking and breaking his gaze, she says, “Remind me what you wanted tonight.”

  Trying not to smile at his perversions, he replies, “I want you to spank me, Mistress.”

  Silence falls between them, so he carries on. “And I want you to be rough with me. Humiliate me for being a pervert and wanting this.”

  Lifting her cheekbones to a full smile, she holds her hand out and says, “Well, first things first.”

  Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, he pulls out the cash and places it in her open hand.

  After counting the money and verifying that it is all there, she unbuttons her long black coat and reveals a tight leather corset.

  His gaze darts back and forth from her eyes to her heaving breasts that are almost spilling from the top of the bodice.

  She bends, brushing the crotch of his trousers with her head in the process, and slips the folded cash into the top of her boot.

  Straightening, she grabs his crotch firmly, “Is this what you want?”

  Sighing at the grip on his balls, he nods.

  “Good. Now, strip.”

  His eyes widen and his mouth suddenly becomes as dry as a desert. Studying her face, he is met by a serious expression, so he does as he is told.

  Removing his jacket, he places it on the closed lid of the toilet, and proceeds to disrobe. Unbuttoning his white shirt slowly, he slips it off and chucks it on top of his grey jacket before taking off his shoes and socks, and undoing his trousers.

  As he unzips the fastening, he looks at her.

  Smiling deviously, she says, “Come on, we don’t have all night.”

  Slipping his pants and trousers down at the same time, he steps out of them. “Sorry, Mistress.”

  Paying no attention to his apology or his angry-looking hard-on, she orders him to fold his clothes and put all of his belongings in one neat pile.

  Feeling vulnerable and slightly ashamed to be in such a dirty place, naked, he doubles over his clothes and stacks them as neatly as possible.

  Watching him fold his shirt, she lets her eyes run over his body, inspecting, appreciating and wanting.

  Sometimes when she got a good-looking guy she hated her job. Sometimes the rules of being a dominatrix just seemed to be so unfair, even if it was a stranger. The less attractive guys were easy to spank and tell they were worthless pigs, but the more attractive they were, the harder it was to do the job.

  His task complete, she commands him to place his hands on the wall over the toilet and stick his arse out.

  The carriage starts to rock as the train switches tracks, which only helps him into his position as he stumbles forward. With his hands now firmly placed against the wall, he arches his back slightly and sticks his arse out just as she requested.

  Admiring his firm muscular buttocks, she takes her miniature crop out of her black bag and swishes it through the air.

  The sound of the leather cutting through the air sends shivers through his body and more blood to his cock, making it bounce with excitement.

  Tapping his back lightly with the crop, she asks him if this is really what he wants, and he nods in answer.

  Pulling the crop back as far as she can in the confined space, she lets it fall with controlled strength, letting the connection leave a warm buzz.

  He flinches at the shock and silently hopes that she will do it harder.

  Hitting him again, she says, “You’re a dirty boy, aren’t you?”

  He nods.

  Cracking the crop down with more power, her voice becomes fiery. “I said, you’re a dirty boy, aren’t you?”

  Feeling his arse heat up at the last strike, he replies to her question. “Yes, Mistress, I am.”

  “Tell me why you’re a dirty boy,” she orders.

  Trying to word his reply in his head before his words leave his mouth she strikes him again, harder than the previous time. “I told you we don’t have all night. Now tel
l me.”

  He blurts out, “Because I am a pervert. I want to have my arse whacked and my balls pulled. I want to feel pain. I want to feel dirty and used by a sexy, powerful woman.”

  She doesn’t reply; she is listening to the female voice announce the next stop to be London Paddington.

  Putting her plan of humiliation into action, she searches in her bag and pulls out two pairs of handcuffs and a blindfold. “You must trust me. If I am to give you all you need, there must be trust between us. Do you understand?”

  He nods. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Good.”

  Slipping the blindfold over his eyes, she kisses him on the cheek, then slithers the steel handcuff around his wrist. Making sure that it is snug enough to restrict a little blood flow and bite into his wrist bone.

  Doing the same to the other wrist with another set of handcuffs, she tightens the notches the same number of times and locks him, with the free cuffs, to the handrail.

  Next, she grabs her bag, then starts to button up her coat as she opens the cubicle door and peeks through the crack. There isn’t a soul in sight. She closes the door and leans to his ear. “Now, this is what humiliation feels like.”

  Opening the door so he can hear, she steps out as the voice informs them that the train will now terminate.

  Closing the door behind her, she smiles at her devious ways and takes a seat, positioned so she can keep a watchful eye on the bathroom door.

  Taking out her new music magazine, she starts to read.

  Knowing the train terminates here for fifteen minutes, she had planned just to leave him in there, releasing him only minutes before the train departed again, but his delicious body keeps entering her thoughts, distracting her from the articles and interviews she is trying to read. Shaking off her urge to take him, she continues to read.

  “Tickets, please.”

  Placing the issue down on her lap, she reaches into her pocket and displays her permit to the guard.

  “Thank you,” he says before carrying on down the aisle.

  Stopping outside the toilet door, the guard looks down at the vacant sign. Her heart pounds against her chest.

  Rising from her seat she heads his way, readying herself to jump in front of the door like she was about to save someone from a bullet.

  Reaching the door, she bends her knees and places her hand between her legs. “I’m bursting,” she says, as she almost pushes the guard out of the way and grabs the door handle.

  Raising his eyebrows, he carries on with his journey to the next carriage.

  Exhaling deeply as the banging against her chest fades, she opens the door, treads into the cubicle once more, and engages the lock.

  “Is that you?” His voice shakes as he questions the unknown.

  Running her index finger down the bumps of his spine, she whispers, “Of course it’s me. I told you I wouldn’t let anyone in. Don’t you trust me?”

  She watches him moisten his lips in preparation to speak, but nothing comes.

  Slapping her hand down against his arse softly, she repeats her question. “Don’t you trust me?”

  As he bites his bottom lip, his words are muffled through his perfectly straight teeth. “Yes, Mistress, I do.”

  “Then stop questioning me. I don’t like to be questioned.” Gripping his swollen balls in her hand she continues, “Do you hear me?”

  He replies with a breathy “yes...” as she squeezes him in her hand, digging her nails in slightly, and his state of arousal begins to build again.

  “Spread your legs,” she orders, fire in her voice once more.

  Spreading his legs as wide as he can, he feels her brush in between them and rustle something behind him.

  “Now then, you dirty boy. I don’t usually do this.” She grips his solid cock. “But I have to say, you are a fine specimen of a man. And you did say you wanted me to use you.” She starts to rub his cock. “Didn’t you?”

  Feeling his balls pulse as if they were filling with more spunk, he lets out a low groan and answers, “Yes, Mistress, I did.”

  The train judders as the engine starts, and the tannoy crackles before the familiar voice announces the stops for the train.

  Grabbing the crop from her bag again, she lightly taps his balls with it. “Would you like me to spank your balls while I wank your pathetic cock off?”

  The whole of his groin area tenses at her dirty words and he nods.

  Slapping harder against his sensitive flesh, she says, “Speak up, dirty boy, I want to hear you.”

  “Yes, Mistress, I would,” he says more loudly.

  “Mmm, good.”

  Knowing she only has a few minutes left to give this guy what he needs, she begins to pump at his hot cock and slap his balls lightly, over and over again.

  Feeling her own body aroused at the situation, she begins to rub and thrust her clit against his backside. Getting her position just right, she feels her knickers dampen and her mouth salivate as her orgasm grows.

  Thrusting his hips back against her, he, too, can feel his urge growing as his spunk rises from his balls to the head of his cock. Unable to fight his need any longer, he gives in, and with one more moan from her lips to help him along, his balls tighten and his cock pumps.

  Feeling the warm liquid cover her hand, she, too, is pushed to her peak. Shuddering against him as her clit throbs and the dampness in her underwear becomes wet, she squeezes the last of the cum from him.

  Ripping some tissue off the roll, she cleans her mucky hands and brushes herself down before putting the crop in her bag and unlocking his wrists from their restraints.

  Turning to face her, with the blindfold still restricting his sight, he says, “Wow. Mistress, you are amazing.”

  Smiling at his words and the fact that he is covered in cum, she tells him to count to one hundred, and then remove the blindfold.

  Clearly remembering his place, he asks no questions. “Yes, Mistress.”

  Kissing his salty lips before leaving the cubicle quietly, she heads for the train door.

  At number fifty-six he feels the train vibrate and move away from the platform. Lifting one side of the blindfold up he peeks out to find himself alone. Pulling the silky material off his head, his eyes adjust to the light and he reaches out for his shirt, but it’s not where he left it. Glancing around the cubicle in a panic, he is left with a cold feeling.

  The only thing that remained of his belongings was his phone. Sitting down on the toilet seat, he breathes heavy and reaches out to lock the door. What the fuck has she done with my clothes?

  Speedily pacing down the platform to catch her next train, she writes out a text.

  Your clothes are in the hand luggage department just outside the door. Is that humiliating enough for you? G x

  Making it to her next train by the skin of her teeth, she hurries through the closing doors and presses the send button.

  Heading for the toilet, she steps in, locks the door, and pulls off her wig.

  Rummaging through her bag to find her diary, she opens it to today’s date and scrolls down the list.

  Train from London Paddington to Reading - Maria, Blonde with heavy makeup.

  Pulling the blonde wig over her short black hair, she applies lashings of makeup and leaves the cubicle in search of her next prey.

  Finding the same book placed on the table in front of a different man, she does the same as before. Taking a seat a row back from him on the opposite side, she inspects her new victim.

  The man is scruffy, unkempt and skinny. This is the guy who called the agency earlier today asking for a slut to spank his cock and spit on his balls.

  With minutes to spare before she has to get to work on this dirty pervert, she skims through her false agency website on her iPhone, loo
ks up at the man from under her lashes and smiles.

  This one should be even easier to rob.

  All You Have to Do is Push

  Robin Watergrove

  She’s asleep on my shoulder. I keep my hand on her head, in part to keep it from rolling with the rock of the ship, but mostly so I can look as protective as I feel. I’ll admit now what would have embarrassed a younger me: I like the looks I get from other women when I’ve got a woman in my arms. I feel most desirable when a woman’s desire for me is on display, and moreover, that I make her feel safe enough to display it.

  To hold Jenna in my arms makes me feel nearly invincible, because she’s clearly strong enough to fend for herself. Well, that’s clear when she’s awake. When she’s sleeping, all you see is her pale skin and bright red hair, that vibrant copper colour you can’t get from a dye. When she’s awake you can see how she elbows her way through the world. She’d be staring down the pretty girl a few rows ahead of us that keeps glancing at me. She’d laugh, loud enough to call attention to us, then whisper in my ear.

  Jenna shifts and I hold still until she settles again. I can feel her breath against my neck. We’re on the ferry between Cancún and Cozumel, and I’m jetlagged but content. This is our first real vacation together. I’m playing the role of the older, more experienced girlfriend, bracing myself for the inevitable travel hiccups. Jenna’s playing the role of the young one, who’s never been to Mexico, with bright eyes and big plans.

  I love showing her new things. That’s the first thing I did when we met. We were introduced, awkwardly, while I was tying my shoes. I craned my neck to nod up at her and she crouched down to smile at me. Then we had nothing to say, so she just watched me tie my shoes.

  “Wow, complicated,” she said.

  “Yeah.” I looked up and really saw her, properly, freckles and red hair and all. “But they never come untied.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” I smiled at her, crookedly, already flirting. Then I untied my shoe so I could tie it again for her. I learned my method from my dad: cross, under, over, under, over, then tie the knot. She was smiling and laughing at my jokes, so I had her try it herself. When she couldn’t remember the steps, I leaned over and pulled her laces loose. With my arms brushing her legs, I took my time tying them up again. I was so close to her I was just murmuring under my breath, keeping the words quiet, just between us.