'Oh, I'll find it,' Esther said, in a tone filled with husky promise. 'In what way do you suggest I punish the subject?'
'The little tart likes to dress as a woman, don't you, whore?'
'Yes, Madam Tisset,' the man said, his eyes beginning to darken at the mere sound of her vitriolic scorn.
'And then he likes me to fish beneath his skirt and pull out the offending article, and punish it for being there, doesn't he?'
'Yes, Madam Tisset,' he gasped.
'The little boy thinks it's a dirty object which really should be there, doesn't he? So I have to try to pull it out at the roots, and it's really got to hurt the dirty little boy, hasn't it?' She walked up close to him and was breathing into his face, her lips curled back into a snarl of disgust.
Now he didn't answer, but was staring at her, almost panting with anticipation.
'Go and wash,' she snapped, turning away. 'And use the scrubbing brush really hard. I'll be watching.'
He obediently trotted out of the room, and Madam Tisset's severe demeanour slipped instantly. 'Would you like a cup of tea, my dear, while he gets himself psyched up, or would you like something stronger?'
'A glass of wine would go down well,' Esther said, knowing her cupboard was well stocked.
'Help yourself, my dear. Now, you really mustn't be apprehensive. He's the same as all the other inadequate little men I get in here. Whatever authority he thinks he has comes off with his clothes. Don't you worry about hurting him, you just worry about not pleasing him, because I don't want to have to sue him for my money.'
Esther looked shocked. 'You wouldn't?'
'Damn right I would, and he knows it. I've got him by the short and curlies. At least, I would have if I wasn't honest. That's why he keeps coming back to me; he trusts me. So do all my clients. It's the single most important thing next to being good at what you do. They have to feel safe when they're back outside in the big bad world. They have to believe in your professional discretion. That's why I don't have any trouble getting my money out of them. They want to come back for more. They know, more than anyone, what a useful job we do. It's a bit like the coalition, my dear, which was an institution run by a few old men afraid of enjoying themselves. If the ban on prostitution was lifted everyone would be a damn sight happier.' She slumped onto a chair, slipped off a shoe and rubbed her foot. 'Oh my, these shoes will be the death of me. Now, get out of your togs.'
'What should I wear?' Esther asked.
'You can keep your clothes on if you want, but you might get rather warm. He likes to be hooded, and judging from the hard-on he gets, he's got a good imagination. He gets quite a pressure build up, does this one. Surprising, really, he doesn't look capable of it. But then, things are seldom what they seem at first glance.
'Now, you go to the dungeon, get ready, and I'll bring him to you.'
From the dungeon, a dark room lit by flickering candle-bulbs, Esther heard Madam Tisset giving orders.
'Harder, you disgusting little slut, scrub harder! Let's see it really glow. That's much better. Now get your frock on - parading it about like that as if you're proud of it, you perverted worm. Now shut your eyes, how dare you look at your betters? Now run your hands down the frock, make sure it's nice and tidy. All over, that's right, and again, see if you can flatten it a bit more down the front... Now, put this collar on, you filthy beast. From this moment on you're a prisoner of the Turks, and you know what they do to little boys, don't you? They take their balls and squeeze them in a vice until they go black and drop off. Then they can sing like canaries and pee like little girls. That's what you really want, isn't it? Come along, my associate is waiting for you.'
Madam Tisset walked in leading the man by a chain. He wore a short white dress. It pinched his waist in, pushing his chest and bottom out. The gathered but very short skirt lifted out over a pair of white hairless legs. He had his eyes tight shut as ordered, which was just as well, because it was all Esther could do not to giggle. But a warning glance from her tutor made her concentrate.
'Now,' Madam Tisset said to her, 'a nice thick belt, please, the one with wrist restraints at the back. That's right. Now, breathe in hard, slut, your waist isn't quite as small as it should be. You haven't been doing your exercises, now have you?'
She cinched the belt in hard until he winced, then buckled his wrists into the small of his back. Then standing back slightly, she lifted the hem of his skirt and showed Esther that he certainly had an erection.
Then she handed her the lead. 'He's all yours. Deal harshly with him, he deserves it.' She winked, pointed to a leather hood hanging on a hook, and left.
For a moment Esther was at a loss, but then her hands reached out for the hood almost of their own accord. 'Kneel down, slut,' she said as harshly as she could. 'I have to hood you so you don't look at that revolting penis of yours.'
She pulled the hood over his head and buckled it onto him. It was probably his own, she thought, judging from the perfect fit, and seeing how the leather straps were marked in all the right places as she pulled the fastenings tight.
'Now, open your mouth.'
To Esther's surprise, her voice had almost instantly attained a quality of command Madam Tisset herself would have been proud of, and her final feelings of unease fled as she squeezed a large ball gag into the man's mouth. 'Suck on that,' she ordered, buckling the gag tightly around his face, pulling his cheeks back into a fixed smile. He gave a gurgle of complaint.
'What? Do you want me to take it back out? Do you want me to hand you your clothes and send you away from here right now? No? Then thank me, you ungrateful slut, and spread your legs!'
'Nnnng,' he groaned, quivering with anticipation.
After a moment her subject was standing to attention, his hands buckled firmly behind his back, his legs parted with a spreader. A chain from the ceiling fixed to his gag kept him immobile, and his thin dick was dripping like a leaky tap.
'Now you're mine, you dirty little whore,' Esther whispered. 'Now I can do what I want with you, and there's nothing you can do to stop me.' As her hand slid up the inside of his thigh he jerked, vibrant with expectation, and his dick pulsed just once, then his whole body tensed, quivering.
She ran her hand up his other thigh, squeezed his balls tight, and twisted. He jerked again, making low growling noises in his throat. Recalling what Madam Tisset had said about pulling it out at the roots, she realised that this man liked to be punished. Armed with this knowledge, she bound his balls up tightly in a complicated mesh of straps designed for the purpose.
He was moving slightly, his hips grinding from left to right, and she realised he was gone, descended into his own private world, and that she did not need to speak any more.
Taking a thin cane from the wall she ran it softly up and down his legs, lifting the skirt and letting it fall again. Then she drew her hand back and slashed the cane down. The sound of it on naked skin far exceeded the force with which it was propelled, and he jumped, for the first thing he knew about the target was the sting of the cane's arrival.
Satisfied that this was what he wanted, Esther drew her arm back and chose a new target. After a while she fell into the swing of it. Instead of wondering whether the man was enjoying himself - though she had no doubt that he was - she began to warm to the action, choosing her targets carefully to avoid the growing criss-cross of lines up and down his legs, and finding virgin skin to mark as her own.
Once she had claimed almost every inch of bare flesh on his legs, she moved in to smooth her hands over the ridges, to feel the tiny raised weals he now wore on his legs up to the hem of his skirt. She rubbed up under his skirt and felt tantalising fresh ground beneath it. Quivering with a strange pleasure, she lifted the skirt and tucked it into the belt around his waist, digging her fingers hard into his already constricted middle.
Now his excitement became increasingly evident in the urgent thrusting of his hips and the rampant erection that thrust from the confines of the cock strap
s.
She gently tapped the erection with the cane and saw it bounce upward eagerly. Gosh, Madam Tisset really did mean she should hit him there! Tentatively at first, then with increasing skill, she began to target the long finger of veined skin. The noises the man was making were a mixture of strangled grunts and gasps, and she was sure his cries of anguish were the result of hanging on to his control for as long as he possibly could.
Eventually, though, his willpower began to wilt under the wicked onslaught. On a normal part of his body the cane would have stung, but on his engorged penis it must have seemed vastly more destructive. As she watched, entranced, he rose upward onto the balls of his feet, looking as if he was going to explode with the effort. And explode he did. Esther was standing to one side, but almost with vindictive and subconscious knowledge he seemed to sense her position, and turned towards her as his spunk erupted from his turgid cock.
Esther looked at the mess trickling down her belly and frowned, and at that moment Madam Tisset opened the door and came in. 'I heard you finish him off,' she said, going to the wall and taking something down.
'Should I let him go now?' Esther asked.
'Oh, no. Now he needs to do penance.' She hooked what seemed like a vast weight to the cock strap, and let go. The bound man gave a groan as it settled, taking his balls several more inches towards his knees. Then she led Esther from the room.
'There, now we leave him to enjoy his self-castigation for a bit,' she said, 'and you can go and have a shower. He always does that, you know,' she added, nodding to the mess on Esther's front. 'With unerring accuracy.'
'Does he aim for us on purpose?'
'Oh yes. You see he hates women, really. What you have to learn, my dear, is that some men have had a very strange upbringing. Women, too, of course. I see that as part of my role in life; to help them cope with their guilt, or whatever is lying inside their heads.'
'I see,' Esther said doubtfully, wondering if her husband's enjoyment of being tied up and beaten was indicative of some kind of strange complex, or more to the point, if hers was. On reflection though, she doubted it.
'But they're not all like that one, of course,' Madam Tisset carried on, settling on her settee with a sigh, and picking up a half-drunk glass of wine. 'Some of them just really like sex, and that's all part of the same game.
'Now, did you get randy doing that?' A single glance at Esther's flushed face told her the truth. 'Then you'd better bring yourself off, there's a good girl. Never leave yourself all wound up unless you've got somewhere to take it.'
Esther wiped the come off her belly with a tissue, strangely turned on by the smell of the man and her recent exertions on his body parts. It was also exciting having left him tied up in there with a weight on his balls. She realised Madam Tisset was watching her with an eager look on her face, and flushed slightly with sudden realisation. Not only did she want to do what her mentor had suggested, she wanted her to watch.
Madam Tisset sipped her wine as Esther sat opposite her on a high-backed chair, and opened her legs. Esther leaned her head back and began to pleasure herself, pushing her breasts high, then sliding her hands from breast to thigh and back up again to take her nipples between finger and thumb.
She began to move to the tune of her body, her hands slipping slightly lower with every sensuous stroke until they slid to the soft flesh between her legs, and parted the lips slowly.
Her mouth opened slightly and she began to gasp as her fingers worked their magic. It was so decadent, so exciting being watched as she masturbated. No one had ever watched her before. It really was the most shamefully erotic sensation.
She thought about the man standing in the little room with his balls sinking lower to the tune of a large weight, and his silent pain stimulated her to a point from which she could no longer hold back. Her fingers worked furiously, rubbing up and down, finding the exact level of speed to trigger the orgasm.
Madam Tisset watched avidly, breathing deeply as Esther's nubile body writhed, and then sighed with disappointment when the show was over.
Esther glanced at her through dreamy eyes, wondering what to make of it all. What would she expect of her now?
But Madam Tisset expected no more. She smiled softly. 'Thank you for that, my dear. Now, go and have your wash, then I think we had better release him, don't you?'
The man groaned as the weight was lifted, but the tension seemed to have gone from him totally. He was as wet a rag as Esther had ever seen, and after a shower, dressed in his respectable clothes again, she found it hard to believe he would ever have allowed anyone like her or Madam Tisset within yards of him. He looked down his nose with a supercilious expression as he counted out a wadge of notes.
'She was all right,' he said grudgingly as he left. 'I'll be back at the same time in a fortnight.'
Madam Tisset giggled. 'He will be too, on the dot. He's very punctual. His wife thinks he goes to a men's club once a fortnight, you know.'
'He's married?'
'Happily, as far as I can gather, excepting in one respect, and I manage to cover that quite adequately.'
'I never thought of people like that coming to - to prostitutes.'
She used the word reluctantly, making Madam Tisset grin with malicious amusement. 'It's the oldest profession in the world, my dear. And in spite of modern technology, is as lucrative as it ever was. Most men will visit one at some time in their lives.'
'Mine better not,' Esther said.
'Why not, my dear?'
'Oh, I don't know. I mind, that's all. At least, I used to. Now I'm not so sure. In fact, I suppose I'd rather he came to you for this, than took some little strumpet to a hotel for a weekend.'
'What's the difference?'
'Well, this is business, I suppose. And if he's going to take anyone out to a hotel to be wined and dine, it should be me.'
'Bravo!'
Later, at home, Kevin was as attentive as ever. 'I've been asked to stay on late tomorrow, love,' he said, still staring into his paper. 'It might be a good idea if I stay at a hotel, because I'll probably have a couple of drinks after the meeting.'
Esther gave him a dubious glance, which he did not see. 'I'm not doing anything, I could come with you,' she suggested.
Kevin managed a strained smile. 'Oh, honey, I wouldn't subject you to this one, it's really going to be quite a bore. It's just a group of us, you know the kind of thing, all blokes together? The talk can get a bit rowdy. And the other wives aren't expected to come to this one, so you'd be on your own a bit. I'd much rather you came, honey, but it just wouldn't be right. You do understand, don't you?'
Oh, Esther understood all right.
Chapter 12
Tanya was waiting for him by his car, just as she said she would. She was a small, almost Eastern-looking woman with olive skin and dark hair, but her accent was pure London.
'Are you sure your husband doesn't know where you are?' he asked, quickly scanning the exits and entrances for signs of rampaging cuckolded males.
'Oh, no, he's away on the oil fields, like I told you,' she said, flashing a knowing glance. 'He knows I go out with other men. He doesn't mind, he says it works both ways.'
'What do you mean?' He unlocked the car, and they slid in together.
'Well, he goes out with those Eastern women. There's lots of them on the game, and they know some unusual techniques. When he comes back he teaches me what he's learned, and when he's away, I practice. I thought I knew about sex, but the more I learn the more I realise I didn't have a clue. In the Eastern countries women actually get lessons in sex before they get married - and I'm not talking about reproduction or the birds and the bees routines. It's a shame it doesn't happen the same in England.
He gave a silly grin. 'So what are you going to teach me?'
She responded with a faint chuckle. 'I don't know what you like; we'll have to find out, won't we?'
In Tanya's house the Eastern influence was well and truly evident. The living roo
m was plush with dark red and gold fabrics, and upstairs the three bedrooms were all fitted out in differing styles of outrageous eroticism. In one there were erotic hangings on all the walls, and implements of love were displayed freely. The second was totally in black, with black satin sheets and a cast iron bed, and the third was bright pink and frilly, like a whore's boudoir. Kevin immediately felt movement down below, and knew he was in for a long night.
'You're sure your husband's in the Sudan?' he murmured, brushing a hand over her dark hair.
'Quite sure,' she responded huskily, falling to her knees before him, and dropping her eyes with suitable modesty. 'Master, I am yours to use as you wish. You may use me and abuse me in whatever manner you desire, and if you wish for suggestions, I'm quite happy to oblige.'
If Kevin thought he had a hard on before, it was now like a rock. It was tempting to just thrust it at her, but he knew from experience that all things were better for the waiting. 'I'd like a drink, first,' he said, settling himself on the black satin sheets.
'What would my master wish me to prepare?'
'Whisky on the rocks. Then you can go and run me a bath, and wash me.'
'Yes, master.'
He had taken his shoes off, and was lounging comfortably when she brought him a glass on a small silver tray, and placed it by the bed, saying with deferential courtesy, 'Master, if you'd like to come to the bath, I'll shower, and come to you when I'm clean.'
Kevin sank into the foamy water and closed his eyes. Bloody hell, all his life he'd been dreaming of finding a sexual submissive, but it hadn't for a moment occurred to him it would be Tanya. He had supposed himself to be in for a night of enjoyable rumpy-pumpy, but now guessed it was to be somewhat different. It just went to show that your perceptions of a person's sexual inclinations could be vastly misjudged, there being no hint of a person's inner desires in their social behaviour.
Esther came to mind briefly. Not with any kind of feelings of guilt; he had been far too unfaithful for far too long for that. No, he thought of her with a kind of mild surprise, having recently discovered that she harboured depths he had not yet trawled.
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