Agony Aunt

by G. C. Scott

  She lay back on the bed and beckoned him to join her. He lay down beside her and gathered her into his arms. His erection pressing against her belly and her breasts pressing against his chest excited her. She drew breath with a gasp and pressed herself tightly against him. How did I go without this for so long? she asked silently. Reaching between their intertwined legs, Harriet grasped his cock and guided it into herself. He raised himself slightly to help her, and then she was filled full of him. She sighed with pleasure, liking the sensation of just lying there with his cock inside her. He appeared to be in no hurry to move on to the next stage, which suited her. This time would be as slow as the first time had been hurried and heated.

  There were slow shiftings and liquid slidings as their bodies adjusted to one another. Harriet was now lying on her side. She raised her leg and brought it over his, her foot in the crook of his knees, pulling his lower body against her own. He slid in more deeply as she opened herself to him.

  They lay quietly for an indeterminate time, enjoying the intimacy. Then he began a slow in-and-out motion that brought his pubic bone down against her clitoris on the inward stroke. Harriet sighed as she was aroused by the insistent pressure on the most sensitive part of her.

  Gradually her excitement built. She felt a growing tension in her stomach muscles, and her first orgasm built in her belly as he continued to move. She moaned softly as she came, glad it was slow and steady. At this rate she knew she would be able to go on for a long time. The waiter was in no hurry. His pace remained slow as she came again. This time she felt a deeper shudder, moaning more loudly and pulling herself tightly against him. Then her orgasms were steady, one after another, each one a slow release of tension. She knew the end was coming when he began to move more urgently, and she matched his pace, gasping as she felt him come, and then she climaxed again.

  Afterwards they lay quietly once more, their breath slowing and their bodies cooling. Neither was in a hurry to move, but sooner or later she knew he would have to get up, get dressed and go home. And she would have to return to the basement to check on Victoria. When he withdrew from her she sat up and put on a dressing gown, covering herself for the first time in hours. The waiter followed her down the stairs. In the living room he gathered his clothing and got dressed. Harriet went through into the kitchen and made coffee for them. They drank in companionable silence, and then it was time for him to go. Harriet felt awkward, for the first time in a long time. I’m out of the habit, she told herself.

  The waiter finally broke the silence. ‘I’d like to see you again,’ he said.

  ‘My sentiments exactly,’ Harriet replied, glad that he had been the first to speak. ‘You know where to find me.’

  He nodded, smiling. ‘And you know where to find me.’

  He moved to the door, and Harriet let him out, standing in her dressing gown as he bent to kiss her. She raised her lips to him, and then he was gone, moving down the steps and turning on to the pavement. He waved briefly as she closed the door.

  Harriet gathered the coffee cups and piled them in the kitchen sink. Victoria could wash up in the morning. She looked around for something else to do, then realised with annoyance that she was simply killing time, postponing the moment when she would have to face Victoria and her knowing smile. She shook herself impatiently and made her way down to the basement. Harriet had to appear resolute even if she didn’t feel that way.

  Victoria looked tired when Harriet reached the cellar. She probably was, after all they had done that day, but she made no complaint. Nor did she ask Harriet what she had been doing all that time. Harriet gave Victoria full marks for discretion as she loosened the rope that held her arms stretched above her head and unfastened it from the hook. Then she eased her breasts back into the leather bra, settling them against the tiny spikes sewn into the cups and fastening the bra behind her back. Victoria drew a sharp breath at the touch.

  ‘This is just to be going on with,’ Harriet told her. ‘Come along upstairs and we’ll have some coffee while I decide what to do with you next.’ Harriet collected her clothes as she led the way to the stairs, and Victoria followed her wordlessly.

  Upstairs, Harriet told Victoria to make some coffee and sandwiches while she got dressed – that would serve to draw the line between them for the moment. The one in charge got to wear clothes, while the submissive one was reminded of her position by her own nudity. Step one in reasserting her ascendancy over Victoria. Step two would be to refuse to discuss her own feelings about being fucked by the waiter, even though she was sure Victoria wanted to ask about them. She was uneasy about having let herself go so thoroughly in the presence of one of her clients. If any conversation became necessary, Harriet would make Victoria tell her own tale before she was put away for the night. But she hoped the topic would not come up at all.

  Victoria poured coffee for them both, awkwardly because of her bound hands, and took hers to an armchair. She held the cup with both hands and watched while Harriet sipped hers and ate a sandwich slowly. Victoria was on a diet for the duration, which meant that she would watch while Harriet ate and not ask to be fed herself. Harriet would choose what she ate and drank. Both of them knew the rules. But Victoria would enjoy the suspense of not knowing what was coming next, and Harriet would make sure that there was no lack of sexual stimulation of the sort Victoria especially liked to break the monotony of confinement.

  ‘Where’s Tom?’ Victoria asked. ‘I haven’t seen any sign of him since I came.’

  ‘He’s away on business,’ Harriet lied. She didn’t elaborate. Victoria knew he was Harriet’s assistant, and what type of business would be involved. She herself was a kind of business, though she enjoyed the benefits of being a regular at Harriet’s. They both enjoyed the carefully contrived relationship that existed between them.

  ‘Will he be back soon?’ Victoria asked next.

  Harriet found the question disturbing. She didn’t want to talk about Tom while she was still so ambivalent about him. But she had to say something, knowing that Victoria was really asking if he would be back in time to join in the fun while she herself was still with Harriet. In addition to being a masochist, Victoria enjoyed crowd scenes, with herself as the victim and centre of attention. Harriet didn’t want to admit to Victoria that she had sent Tom away. She wished there was some way to get him back without losing too much face, but how would they fit into the original mistress/slave roles with the greater intimacy of the man/woman sexual relationship thrown in? It would be difficult if she insisted on always being dominant, but it might work if she was prepared to accept the submissive role from time to time. It was an idea she had never before considered. Her assumption of the dominant role had become something less than an assumption – it was a part of her personality. And she enjoyed it.

  Several times in the last few days she had ridiculed herself, calling herself a lovesick schoolgirl with a crush. But she was no schoolgirl, and it wasn’t mooning. She resolutely avoided the L word, vacillating between resentment and regret. Others could speak of love and affection, but she had never allowed herself to think in those terms. She had accepted a role partly of her own devising and partly thrust on her by her clients. She gave the orders. They obeyed, and suffered in various degrees under her hand. She was above considerations of wanting to be liked, and was isolated in consequence. Now she might have to re-evaluate her role; let a little softness filter in to offset the habitual austerity and aloofness. But that was something to deal with when Tom got back.

  ‘More coffee?’ Victoria broke into her reverie.

  ‘Eh? Oh, no thanks.’ Harriet returned to the present. ‘Let’s see to you. There’s still time for a bit of fun before bedtime. It’s back to the dungeons with you.’

  For Harriet, action was a refuge from uncomfortable thoughts. Victoria stood and followed silently when she rose and led the way down to the basement.

  Once there, Harriet was back in command. There was no hesitation in her manner. ‘Let�
�s try something different.’ She rummaged in the storage cabinets that lined one wall of her basement and emerged with a harness and two dildoes. From another cabinet she took more rope and a leather collar. She laid the rope on a chair and proceeded to fit the leather harness around Victoria’s waist, drawing the buckles tight and cinching her in.

  Victoria trembled slightly in excitement but stood still while Harriet’s hands worked over her body, inserting one dildo – the larger of the two – in her vagina. The slimmer one went into her anus. The strap went between her legs, holding the plugs inside her, and fastened to the waist belt at the back. Through it all Victoria held herself still, as if all this was being done to someone else. She seemed remote, except for the slight trembling of her body and the slight rasp in her breathing.

  Harriet fitted the leather collar around her neck and buckled it. There was a ring at the front and Harriet raised Victoria’s hands up to it. She tied them to the ring, leaving Victoria with her hands held closely under her chin, unable to touch herself or anything else. She stood still in the underground room, waiting with barely suppressed excitement for whatever Harriet would do next.

  Harriet stood back for a moment to admire her handiwork. Victoria wore her leather bra and her stockings and suspenders and nothing else. She looked very attractive, and Harriet was happy that the waiter had said that she was preferable to this woman who now stood waiting for the next blow to fall.

  Making another trip to her storage cupboard, Harriet returned with the other dildo. She fitted it to Victoria’s waist harness so that its base was just over her clitoris. The black shaft jutted out aggressively. Victoria looked down at it and then up at Harriet. There was a tremulous smile on her face as she imagined what would be made of this arrangement.

  Harriet reached out and gave the protruding dildo an experimental tug, as if to be sure it was fastened securely. It was. When she pushed against it Victoria gasped in pleasure. The leather belt was pressed against her clitoris, and the dildo inside her was pushed deeper in. ‘That’s working, then,’ Harriet said. ‘Now if you’ll just stand there and not think about sex I’ll just tidy things away.’ She left Victoria standing in the middle of the room while she closed the cupboards and moved the few bits of furniture in the room around for no particular reason. While she worked, Harriet kept an eye on Victoria. Her reactions might be interesting, she thought, and in any case the anticipation might do her some good. And Harriet was willing to postpone things for her own sake. She was not immune to the pleasures of anticipation either.

  At first Victoria stood where she was, watching Harriet move about the room. When it became apparent that Harriet was not going to do anything erotic immediately, Victoria walked purposefully over to one of the posts that supported the ceiling. Standing directly in front of it, she pressed the end of the dildo against the post and thrust backward and forward with her hips. The results must have pleased her, for she continued, and Harriet could see her breathing quicken and the telltale flush spread from her neck and face to the rest of her body. Once Victoria drew back too far, and the next stroke missed the post. She stumbled and recovered her balance, a look of vexation crossing her face. Taking aim again, Victoria continued her self-arousal. She was paying less attention to Harriet with every passing moment.

  Harriet was able to move to one side under cover of tidying the last cupboard but Victoria was too intent on the post to follow her movements. Harriet retrieved the riding crop from where she had left it and moved to stand behind Victoria. As the other woman was drawing back from the post, Harriet met her bottom with a full-armed slash of the crop. Victoria yelped in pained surprise, and stumbled forward. She missed the post again and almost fell. Harriet followed her up, lashing her bottom and the backs of her thighs. Victoria had lost interest in the post. Now she was more interested in escaping her tormentor. But of course there was nowhere to go. Harriet drove her into a corner, lashing her energetically. Having no place to go, Victoria turned at bay, and was rewarded with a slash across her stomach. She was tugging against the rope that fastened her hands to her collar, trying to bring them down to shield herself. It was purely a reflex action. Victoria knew she couldn’t get free, but still she struggled.

  When Harriet lashed her across the stomach once more, she bent forward protectively. Harriet changed targets, striking across the fronts and sides of her thighs. She struck again and again, Victoria crying out and turning from side to side. Beneath the obvious pain Harriet could see her excitement building, the flesh between the stripes becoming more and more heated and flushed. When Harriet reached out to tease her breasts in the leather bra, she moaned in excitement. She leant forward, pressing her breasts against Harriet’s hands in her eagerness to feel more.

  Harriet stepped closer to her victim, grasping the rod that protruded before her. Immediately Victoria began to thrust against the hand. Harriet manoeuvred Victoria away from the wall, tugging her forward by the black shaft. When there was space behind her, Harriet began to lash her bottom again, reaching around from the side to strike her with the crop. Victoria moved faster and faster, driving herself quickly to orgasm as the combined sensations from inside her and from the lashing helped to drive her over the top. The breath was driven from her in an explosive grunt each time the crop landed. ‘Unh. Unh. Unnhh! Unnnhh!’ The pitch rose with each blow, evidence of her rising excitement. Then her grunts turned into a squeal as she came, shuddering against Harriet as the blows rained down on her.

  Harriet continued until she was sure Victoria was done. It took some time. Then she pushed Victoria against the wall behind her and helped her slide down until she was huddled on the floor. She was gasping for breath and shaking with the aftermath of the beating and the orgasms. Her legs fell slackly apart, the dildo jutting up between her thighs. Her pubic hair was matted with sweat and her body was crisscrossed by the red lines left by the riding crop. She leant back against the wall with her eyes closed while Harriet stood over her.

  Harriet allowed her to rest for a few minutes. Then she prodded Victoria with the crop. ‘Get up now, Vicky,’ she said in a gentler tone. ‘It’s bedtime.’ She helped Victoria to stand, raising her by the elbows. Victoria was still a bit shaky in the knees, but she was able to walk over to one of the cells which occupied the area nearest the stairs leading up to the rest of the house. As she walked, the black dildo bobbed before her. Harriet led her into the cell and told her to sit on the bed inside while she went to fetch the rope she had got out earlier. When she returned she knelt on the floor and bound Victoria’s ankles together. With yet more rope she bound Victoria’s knees. With her wrists bound and fastened to her collar, Victoria wouldn’t be able to loosen the ropes.

  Harriet helped her to lie on the bed, raising her bound legs for her and finally covering her with a blanket. She closed and locked the door and turned out the light. Victoria would be able to rest or amuse herself with the dildoes as she chose. Harriet went upstairs, locking the door to the basement behind her. It had been a long day.

  Harriet got into bed and tried to sleep, but she managed only a fitful rest. Erotic dreams troubled her, and she woke up sweating and couldn’t get back to sleep again. An hour or so of tossing and turning found her still awake and horny, a word she didn’t often think of in relation to herself.

  Finally giving up, she got out of bed. Victoria was waiting downstairs, and she knew she would cooperate wholeheartedly. She went down to the basement and turned on the light outside the locked cell. Peering in through the spyhole in the door, Harriet could see that Victoria hadn’t been lying quietly during those hours she had been trying to get to sleep upstairs, because the blanket with which she had been covered was twisted and half on the floor. Victoria herself was lying half on her side, covered with a light sheen of sweat. She had obviously decided to amuse herself instead of merely going to sleep. Harriet hoped she had got some rest at least, because she was about to be roused again – in both senses of the word.

  As
she unlocked the door, Victoria struggled to turn over and face her visitor. She managed to get on to her back before Harriet put her hand out to stop her. ‘That’s fine, Vicky. I couldn’t sleep so I came down to look in on you in your monastic cell. I can see you’ve been praying unsuccessfully for chastity, so we’ll work on obedience instead.’

  Victoria had the grace to blush at the words, but she didn’t look very penitent.

  Harriet noticed. ‘Not to worry. You’re with a friend who understands your special needs. Oscar Wilde remarked that celibacy was the most unusual of all perversions, and I’ve come to make sure neither of us suffers from it.’ As she spoke Harriet was taking off her nightie. She hung it on the top corner of the door and went to stand over the bed. She looked at Victoria and saw her own eagerness mirrored in the other woman’s expression, along with surprise that Harriet was joining in the game. Harriet sat on the bed and touched Victoria’s breasts beneath the tight leather bra, rubbing them to ensure that the sharp needles in the cups were making themselves felt. Victoria gasped as she was massaged through the leather. Her nervous system was busily scrambling the pain signals so that they came out as sexual arousal. Masochists were so handy, Harriet thought. Everyone should have access to at least one of them for those nights when sleep just wouldn’t come.

  Harriet slid one hand under the leather waist belt and gently ruffled Victoria’s pubic hair, feeling how warm she was already after just this light stimulation. Victoria jerked at the touch and moaned softly, arching her back so that she could press herself against the hand on her sex. Harriet continued to massage her in the two sensitive places and Victoria thrashed about, her whole body turning first pink and then red as she became more excited. The stripes from the earlier beating showed as slightly darker bands on her heated flesh. Harriet’s own breath was coming harder, and she felt her arousal as a tightening in her chest, as if there were steel bands around her, squeezing the air from her body.