by Laurie Mann
Reality. Euphoria had defeated me as well. I’d forgotten the no orgasm rule and must surely pay now. Pleased Rock and George though, I know I did. And me? It was worth any punishment, truly it was. Pussy likes punishment anyway. Winner all ways!
“Fetch your diary.” Rock’s tone was serious, so I scampered.
“Unauthorised orgasm. Twenty four bonus points. They will be erased after Madam’s done her worst.”
Twenty four. Lateral thinking, he’d said. No imagination. Twenty four what?
“Time to eat, I think. You coming, George?”
“Nothing better to do.”
He looked me straight in the eye with that no nonsense look he’s so good at.
“You can wear that pretty blue dress of yours. Nothing else.”
My blue cocktail dress, barely protection against prying eyes, let alone the winter wind. Could only hobble across the car park with the gravel hard on my feet. So self conscious with people staring at my bare feet, but at least the carpet felt nice. George was first to broach subject of my appointment with Madam.
“Where does this Madam live?”
She followed Rock’s glance at me. I could only shrug and stare at the plate and hope desperately that the conversation wouldn’t be overheard by the hovering waitresses in their lacy white blouses that Rock made no pretence at gaping down every time they bent over the table.
“Going to be difficult getting to her, if you don’t know where she lives, isn’t it?”
The enormity of her words struck home and I felt despair at the impossibility of the situation. Rock spoke next, quiet, like there was no problem at all.
“I’m not planning on chasing after her. She can come to me.”
“If she wants to.”
“She will.”
I could only listen as they discussed my problem as though I wasn’t there. I didn’t exist. Getting used to that now.
“The way I see it, George, is that she’s discovered that her merchandise is being tampered with. She’ll not stand for that. She’ll come looking.”
“And what when she finds you?”
“Worry about that then.”
“How’s she going to find out who you are?” I had to interject. Merchandise indeed. Rock sounded so sure, but he doesn’t know Madam, or does he? Seems he knows some strange people, George for one. He looked genuinely surprised.
“You’re going to tell her, Princess.”
“I am not. Whatever she does, I’ll not tell.”
“Yes you will. She’s got the means, I’m sure of that. Just don’t let on too quick. She’ll suspect something if you do.”
“But she’s dangerous. No telling who she knows. No, Rock I’ll not involve you.”
“Already have. My choice anyway. I can look after myself. Seen any of the old bunch lately, George?”
That was it, he changed the subject. No sense in arguing, I can only hope he knows what he’s doing.
“Only Dave Ramsden.”
“The Fat Man? What’s he up to?”
“Locals, bored to tears. Found a tart who didn’t like him being away, so he started doing locals, then she cleared off.”
“Sounds normal.”
That was it, more reminiscing. Lisa said his stories made her toes curl. Just as well she didn’t hear about George. Dr? Glad she’s not mine. Seems to prefer inflicting not healing. What sort of person can make their living through other’s suffering? Madam, that’s who, but George is different, pure evil. Wondered if employing Rock was a good idea after all.
On and on they went, until the landlord switched off the lights and at last we went home. Me to my mat, Rock and George to the cans and coffee.
***
Monday 21st March
The nervous pavement pacing, church bells and limousine were all so familiar, but yesterday was different. Fear, not excitement, overwhelmed as the car sped me through the enforced darkness to Madam, now determined to find out about my new owner. I felt sure her sadistic ways would be worse than ever.
Too soon the car stopped and I was hauled, rougher than usual, into the house to be stripped and strung up by ankles to wait terrified for ....
The waiting seemed endless as the ropes bit my ankles and the post mounted phallic, that my eyes couldn’t avoid created untold terror. Eventually I was released and impaled on the grotesque phallic with my feet spread wide to rings in the floor. I watched, helplessly, as Madam squeezed the bellows that forced the phallic deep into my bowels. Every pump continued to fill until I was held rigid, my first excruciating experience of internal bondage. It was awful, the strain inflicted made even worse by my bowels determined efforts to evict the obscenity that filled so completely.
“Now then, Francesca. You have caused me a deal of trouble this past few weeks. First a client complains and then it becomes apparent that you are also owned by another. I will not tolerate joint ownership, under any circumstances. You of all people I would have thought to be intelligent enough to realise that men need their egos massaged. Need to think they’ve satisfied, even though they rarely do.” Madam’s acid words terrified as she continued.
“It is my policy to cause any stock that causes me grief more torment than the mind can conjure. When I decide that your suffering has sufficiently compensated for my recent distress then I intend to ensure that you divulge the identity of the impostor who has corrupted you. I shall then repay their insolence, before deciding your future. Remember the street-walking, do you? I’ll wager you’ll find it harder without my help in providing clients.”
Her monologue continued, every word striking new fear. Her acerbic voice so contrasting the beautiful, graceful woman before me. It felt like the end, being finally allowed to see her.
The feather tickled my nipples. Such beauty, finer than any peacock’s, such torment, more delicate than any fingers. Impossible to evade, impossible to take more, I could only sway agonisingly upon the pole and let the pleasure and the agony invade to soak deep inside. Every shudder caused such agony but created untold pleasure. Every shudder stretched the smile that Madam wore, her delight sparkling in her gorgeous green eyes. How can a feather so delicate be so cruel? Be so whimsical, yet wise enough to incite every single nerve end to such distraction? How can anything so flimsy hold the power to create such energy and have the strength to deny an entire body full of such unbelievably potent desire?
Endless hours of being driven to the brink and every time denied by delicate brush strokes that incited pussy to wreak havoc but always withheld the final touch. Even rest as the excitement abated was denied as Madam’s adeptness kept me simmering. My entire body and soul was being controlled by the silky tickling, which refused to abide by the natural boundaries of human tolerance.
Shallow gasps of agonised delight accompanied my twitching. The pain of my tortured abdomen a welcome price to pay for the hedonistic craving as pussy, normally so cunning, strove to defeat the feather, rebel against such control.
Should have known Madam better, but she took me by surprise. Before my very eyes, she slowly, seductively peeled off her clothes. How pussy delighted at the strip tease, for that’s what it was, words can never tell. Beautiful dress, the very best and, clothes are my business so I do know about these things, discarded to reveal the most delectable silk lingerie. Thousands of pounds stripped away to reveal perfect bone china skin. A little saggy in places, but I guess she is fifty something. If only I look half as good then.
Journal, the excitement. Hidden from me for so long but now exposed, her naked beauty the perfect foil for her tyranny, for make no mistake, her dominance matches any of history’s tyrants.
Fingers, so delicate, so knowing, traced my curves. Head to toe, nothing missed, speeding, lingering, controlling the rise and fall of my pleasure, impossibly intense and held at the th
reshold of insanity. Lips, warm and moist brushed my shoulders, neck and ears more sensitive than .... than .... mere words cannot tell. Certainly more sensitive than is good for a girl.
My nipples, hard and throbbing pushed forward impatiently for their turn. I screamed my pleasure and snatched my breath while her tongue and teeth explored their hardness. Thighs, so smooth, caressed mine and neatly trimmed pubes tickled as my hips absorbed her love juice as she drove herself to climax.
Her breathing quickened, hot against my ear as her grip tightened on by breast, fuelling pussy and transcending the agonies within before suddenly it was over. Satisfied, her not me and the tears of frustration cascaded in torrents.
“The truth is easier when orgasm is close, Francesca. You’ll tell when the time is right.” How can such menace exist amidst the euphoria of sheer delight?
“No, no-one else. Can’t tell what isn’t, Madam.” Must tell, needed to tell. Not too soon, Rock said. So I had to be strong.
“Now, now, Francesca. Pubes shaved, orgasm controlled. What other possible explanation can there be?” Taunting, not angry.
“No. I won’t, Madam.”
She increased the pressure in my bowels, then a buzzing noise drew my eyes to a contraption fixed to the post. Bristles, fine and delicate, twirling, tantalising and powered by an electric motor towards my eagerly waiting pussy. First, a gentle breeze and then the jolt as an electric touch ignited pussy sending shock waves stampeding. Then nothing. Watched through tear filled eyes, prayed silently for the frustration to end as the bristles retreated. My eyes were transfixed as they began their return and I could only anticipate their tormenting touch. The merest brush of my lips electrified, then instantly departed.
“Lunchtime. We’ll see what you’re made of afterwards. Enjoy your lunch.”
She left me firmly affixed, the constant cycle of bristles kissing and lightning scorching through every nerve end. On and on, up and down, my inflamed pussy driven to distraction but always denied. ‘Enjoy your lunch,’ she said, how can I? ‘See what you’re made of?’ Worse to come? ‘I can look after myself,’ Rock had said. I hope he can, because I’ll tell Madam, I know I will. Please Madam, for God’s sake let me tell. Come back, please, I’ll tell you all, just let pussy vent her frustration. Stop the bristles and fill pussy with fingers, cock, plastic, anything, just let the pleasure flow. Please, Madam, I’ll tell, I’ll be good - anything you say. I’m not exaggerating, journal, I truly would.
“Been exciting yourself, I see.”
“Yes, please stop it, I’ll tell. Anything you want, I’ll tell. Please, Madam.”
“I’m sure you will, but the afternoon is but young. There’s no need to rush.”
Oh, what next? At least the bristles had stopped, allowed the frustration to subside, let the pain in my abdomen return. Pain or frustration, always, which is worse? I don’t know. No need to rush - try standing here and say that.
More abominations: Shiny chrome butterfly clamps, weighted with glass globes on chains, horrific teeth to bite, to grip no matter what. My breath whistled between my teeth as the teeth punctured my engorged lips. Felt pussy stretch as they bit harder. How many tears are there?
Madam fondled a small, black plastic box with red button. Her finger circled the button that held my gaze until pressed. The shock was not really a surprise but still it cramped every muscle and Madam’s chuckles invaded the dark recesses of my mind.
I sagged as far as the anal phallic permitted before instantly shocked rigid, eyes bulging, lungs paralysed, brain bursting, temples throbbing and pussy, well, you know by now, don’t you?
Alternated between stone statue and rag doll. Time and again horrendous shocks mortified before, at last, Madam tired of her little game.
“Who is he, or is it a she?”
“Rock, Madam.” I could barely utter his name so devastating had been the shocks. Could only hope I hadn’t given in too soon and made her suspicious.
“Rock? What sort of name is that? His real name, quickly.” She barked her annoyance.
“Hudson, Mr Hudson, Madam.”
“First name.”
“Rock, Madam.”
“Don’t play games, Francesca Mildmay. His first name. NOW.” The shock that rampaged through me seized me totally and every muscle strained as my screams filled the room, my bladder emptied and my head felt sure to explode. Fresh tears washed the sweat from my cheeks as my body burned as though roasting before the fire.
“Rock.” I whispered between sobs. “Rock, it’s all I know, Madam.”
“Rock Hudson, ummm. Who is he? Where does he live?”
“A driver, Madam. He works for me. I don’t know his address, Madam.” It sounds weak but I hoped she’d believe. Couldn’t take any more shocks, or the pain of pussy’s stretched lips.
“I hope for your sake you are right, Francesca Mildmay. I suggest you consider carefully your position, while I make some enquiries.”
She re-positioned the bristles and the whirring motor signalled their approach to my lips, still clamped and stretched so agonisingly. Gentle, tantalising kisses teased before the bristles dropped away and the cycle began again, except this time they pressed the button that sent the horrific shocks before rising to electrifyingly kiss pussy again.
The cycle of anticipation, agonising frustration, relief, shocks, anticipation continued with no respite as the ghastly bristles metronome like tormented.
“It seems you may have been telling the truth, Francesca. I don’t believe that you don’t know his address, but no matter, it won’t be hard to find.”
“Thank you, Madam.” I finally managed to gasp after recovering from the torments which, thankfully had been removed. Oh, the relief as pussy was unburdened of weights and feather light touch. Oh, the pain of frustration as pussy throbbed with the return of her lifeblood.
“Now, with the problem of your ownership resolved, we’ll celebrate with a little light relief. What do you say?”
“Yes, Madam. Whatever you say, Madam.” Light relief? Whatever that meant, I knew that when finally my frustration was to be vented it would be anything but light. So sure she’s solved problem, part of me hopes she’s not too confident, but I do really hope Rock comes out on top. Best to concentrate on pleasing Madam, just in case.
Tissues, softer than any before dried my tears. Fingers, more delicate than even the fragrance of her perfume tidied my hair. Her tongue, warm and insistent prised my lips, probed my tongue and demanded the swoon that was impossible to deny. Armies of ants scurried across my crawling skin as they fled the, oh so gentle, touch that seemed so impossible from one so unforgiving. Soon pussy was purring, responding to the delicious experienced touch that drew the frustration ever closer to the explosive climax that had lay forbidden for so long.
When the floodgates finally opened the whirlpool of ecstasy gushed through my very being, bucking my hips against the monstrosity still imprisoning me on the pole. It seemed everlasting as body and soul reeled against the tidal wave of pleasure that swept all before it, before finally abating, leaving me slumped, supported on my phallus, held in Madam’s arms. Her tenderness, though welcome, confused and it was difficult remembering to be careful, to beware a trap. It’s Rock, not Madam, who’s the future, I’m sure.
“The car will be here in half an hour. Be sure you are ready.” All Madam’s despotism had returned in an instant. Had I dreamed her tenderness? I don’t think so.
***
Rock was waiting when I arrived. Went straight to his house, praying he’d be there, so desperate was I to talk and purge the day from my mind. He tried, but couldn’t prevent the twitch in the corners of his mouth, which made a mockery of his concerned look.
I could only stare through my tears. I had hoped for, no, expected some sympathy. Not a lot, I know him too well for that, but at l
east some. After what I’d gone through, I deserved some, didn’t I? At least he was there to greet me, which showed he cares, doesn’t it? But a comforting arm wouldn’t hurt, would it? Pain, emotion, the enormity of telling Madam who Rock was, combined to breech my defences.
“Oh, Rock. It was awful. Don’t snigger, it’s sympathy I need.” I blubbed the words like a schoolgirl as I yearned to be cradled in his strong arms, to be protected from the world.
“It was your own making. You’re getting more than you deserve, without sympathy as well. Go and sort your face out.”
His matter of fact tone, after all I’d been through, dumbfounded me and I just stood and stared.
“Go on, haven’t got all night.”
By the time I reached the bathroom my tears were flooding. Sort my face out - the mirror showed the size of the task. Getting more than I deserve? What next for heavens sake? It took a while, but I did it. Not perfect, eyes were too puffy, but at least acceptable.
Rock’s surprise - more than I deserve, he’d said - smacked me head on. Lights low, candlelit table. Melon waiting on plates, hacked rather than neatly sliced, but the most beautiful melon I’d ever seen. Followed by the most delicious steak, overdone but at least not burnt how Rock likes it. I left the burnt onions though. No dessert, just coffee and the sweet scent of Rock’s pipe.
“Did you do this?” I could hardly believe what had happened, despite being full to bursting.
“Can’t live in lorries for years without knowing how to cook, Princess.”
He seemed genuinely proud of his achievement. Tonight it was perfect but we’ll eat out next time he gets similar ideas.
“You can wash up tomorrow. I want to hear all about it now.”
I snuggled up, his gentle stroking of my arm soothing as I recounted the day’s events. More than once he wanted more details. Seemed to be particularly impressed by the post I’d been impaled on. Wanted to know how it felt. Excruciatingly full, still can’t believe how tight it held me - that’s how.
“Internal bondage. More imagination than I gave her credit for.” He muttered, his mind obviously churning. “Interesting idea.”