by Becky Bell
'Yes, like that,' Bob said, bucking his hips to screw himself deeper as he felt a gush of her juices running down his cock. 'Do it for me,' he said.
But she didn't want to hear his voice. She wanted to hear Gregory. 'Yes, Ms Strickland.'
She tore Bob's hands away from her breasts and replaced them with her own. Slaves weren't allowed to touch her without permission. She opened her eyes and looked down at him, imagining those big well-exercised muscles straining across the bed, tied hand and foot, his mouth held open by a ball gag. She imagined taunting him, teasing him, tweaking his nipples, slapping his cock. How would he respond? A huge surge of feeling shot through her, making her throw her head back. She rocked her body back too, feeling his cock moving into new areas of her vagina. She was coming now; there was no doubt about that, all the familiar signs coursing through her blood.
Angela ground her body down on him. She could feel his cock throbbing, too, and had to stop herself from telling him that he was not allowed to come until she said so. But the thought was all she needed to take her over the edge. She cried out loud and came, her body shuddering, her muscles locked, her cunt contracting around the deliciously hard rod of flesh that was buried so deep inside her.
Almost before it had ended Angela pulled herself off him, ignoring the protests from the nerves clustered around her sex, which wanted to wallow longer in the wonderful feelings. She had to be in charge, she knew that now more certainly than she knew anything. And that included the here and the now. She had to be in charge of him. She took his cock in her hand, the shaft slippery with the thick juices she had deposited on it, and began wanking it up and down, squeezing it fiercely. She wanted to see him come. That was her agenda. She simply did not care what he wanted.
His smooth glans stuck out from the top of her fist and she saw it swell. She slipped her other hand under his balls and jiggled them up and down with her fingers and felt his cock throb wildly.
'I give you permission,' she said, before she realised what she was saying.
His cock jerked violently in her hand and an arc of white semen shot into the air, splashing down all over his chest and belly. Angela pumped his cock again and a second jet, half as powerful as the first, spurted out of it. There was more to come and she milked the last drops of his ejaculation out of him, the sticky hot semen oozing over the top of her fingers.
His expression of ecstasy faded, to be replaced by puzzlement. 'What got into you?' he said. 'What's all this permission stuff?'
'Just something I like to say,' she said. And, of course, she realised that was perfectly true.
'Are we going to have brandies?'
'I'd like one.'
They were sitting in a small Italian restaurant off Notting Hill Gate, its decor restricted to chianti bottles hanging from wooden beams across the ceiling and framed photographs of the historical sites of Ravenna, though there was also a faded unframed picture of the Italian World Cup winning team next to a bottle of chianti shaped to resemble the Jules Rimet trophy and coated in gold paint.
Angela raised her hand to the waiter who arrived immediately.
'Can we have two brandies and two more coffees?' she said.
'Si, signorina.'
He walked to the back of the restaurant and started twiddling the wheels of an enormous stainless-steel espresso coffee maker.
'So what did you say to him?' Paula asked.
'I told him he could come and see me tomorrow. I'd give him his answer then.'
'So what are you going to do?'
'That depends on you. That's why I asked you out, Paula. I wanted to talk it all over with you. It doesn't seem fair. I mean, he's been your client for two years.'
'It's very sweet of you, Angie, but I can't say I honestly mind. I've got more clients than I can cope with. One more or less isn't going to make any difference.'
'Are you sure?'
'Positive.'
'In that case, I'm going to need your help.'
'Help? What for?'
'I need to get a treatment room built. It's not something the local builders are likely to do for me.'
'No. I can arrange that.'
'And clothes, lingerie. That stuff you wear. It's specially made, isn't it?'
'Yes. There's a specialist corset-maker I use. She does satin and silk as well as rubber and leather. She'll fix you up. She's also got some harnesses and bondage gear you won't find in the Soho shops.'
'Perfect.'
'You're sure about this?'
'I'm not going to give up my job or anything. I'm just going to let him buy me a flat. Do you remember telling me you did it because it was what you enjoyed? Well, I feel the same.' Whether, if her experience with Bob Berry last night had turned out differently, and her hastily formed theory had proved correct, it would have affected her decision as to what to do about Gregory Wilmott's offer, she did not know. In fact, it had only confirmed all her inclinations. Gregory had made her an offer that was difficult to refuse. Even if her sexual inclinations had proved to be only transitory, the thought of moving out of her dingy bedsit would have been too tempting to resist.
'You sound very certain.'
'After last night, I am.'
'What happened last night?'
'Oh, it wasn't anything much. You know I told you I'd never really had much fun in bed? Well, I thought maybe that might have changed.'
'And it hasn't?'
'No.'
Paula laughed.
'What's funny?'
'I tried the same thing myself, ten years ago.'
'And?'
'It didn't work. They seem to be mutually exclusive. What most people call normal sex is dull by comparison; that's all there is to it. It's not like a bug you catch, then get cured. It goes much deeper than that.'
'And some people never realise their...' she tried to think of the right word, '...potential.'
'Probably true.'
The waiter brought the coffees and two large brandies.
'So what are we going to do now?' Angela said. 'The night is young.' She arched an eyebrow.
'As a matter of fact, I have a client due at ten.'
'Oh.' Angela looked crestfallen.
'But you could always help me out.'
'Really?'
'I don't see why not. In fact, it might prove rather interesting for you.'
'In what way?'
'I think you'd better wait and see,' Paula said mysteriously. She picked up her brandy. 'Here's to adventure.'
'Oh, I'll certainly drink to that.'
The doorbell rang at exactly one minute past ten. Angela was sitting on one of Paula's big sofas with her legs tucked up underneath her and another glass of brandy in her hand, gently stroking Paula's arm.
'He's very punctual,' she said.
Paula got to her feet. As soon as they had got back to the house she had changed into a severe black leather basque, nearly opaque black stockings and spiky-heeled shoes. The basque was laced up tightly at the front, its half-cup bra barely containing Paula's big breasts. She wore a peignoir of black chiffon over the basque. 'Wait here. I'll come and get you when I'm ready.'
'Fine. Is he attractive?'
'You'll see.'
Paula marched out of the room, closing the door behind her. Angela heard muffled voices in the hall, then footsteps going upstairs.
She waited. Her body was already beginning to tingle in anticipation. She had invited Paula out to dinner and insisted on paying the bill because she valued her friendship and wanted to make sure that, if she accepted Gregory's offer, Paula would not be offended. But, having got that out of the way, she was certainly hoping that the evening might end in Paula's bed. From the moment she had walked into the restaurant wearing a tailored peach suit and a tight blouse, Angela had found it difficult to think of anything else.
The funny thing was that, though she wanted and desired Paula as much as she had ever wanted any man, she had not developed the slightest interest in other wome
n. Sally Fennell for instance, who was extremely attractive, and often wore outrageously abbreviated outfits, had never once provoked the faintest lust. Though she did not understand why, her homosexual impulses seemed to be confined to Paula.
Getting to her feet, Angela finished the brandy. The thought of Paula stripping off her client and tying him to one of the bondage frames in the black room upstairs excited her. She unzipped the dark blue shift she was wearing. Luckily, wanting to look nice for Paula, she had thought to wear decent lingerie, a lacy black bra and matching lace-fronted panties, and black hold-up stockings. With the bonuses she had been earning, her wardrobe was expanding rapidly.
'Angela.' Paula's voice came from the top of the stairs. Angela climbed the stairs. Paula was standing in the doorway of the treatment room.
'I've got a surprise for you,' she whispered with a mischievous grin. She ushered Angela into the room.
It certainly was a surprise. Standing against the far wall was a woman. She was naked apart from a pair of yellow high heels. Her hands and ankles had been clipped into metal manacles which were suspended from metal rings set into the wall so that her body was spreadeagled against it. The woman had short brown hair, an olive-skinned complexion, and an attractive, intelligent-looking face with a straight nose, a small and rather thin-lipped mouth and high cheekbones. Her body was slender and supple with small breasts, tiny nipples, a stomach so flat it was almost concave and a narrow waist. A thick white leather strap had been buckled around her waist and, from the back of it, Angela could see another strap of the same width hanging down between her legs like a tail. Her pubic hair was bushy and coarse and grew right down between her legs, covering her sex completely. It was difficult to judge her age, but Angela guessed she was around forty. Her dark-brown eyes were staring at Angela steadily.
'Pretty, isn't she?' Paula said, closing the door. 'This is Gloria. Say hello to Ms Strickland, Gloria.'
'Hello, Ms Strickland,' the woman said.
'As you see, Gloria here is a rather unusual specimen. She wishes to be a slave. Not to a man, of course. She is not interested in having a master. That, I imagine, would be relatively easy to achieve. What Gloria here wants is to be used and abused by a woman. Isn't that right, Gloria?'
'Yes, mistress.'
Angela could see the flame of excitement dancing in the woman's dark-brown eyes as she pronounced the words.
'Her husband works nights, hence her late arrival.'
She walked up to her captive, took her cheeks in the fingers of one hand, squeezing them together so her lips pouted obscenely and kissed her on the mouth, squirming her body against her at the same time, crushing her big breasts into Gloria's chest. She ran her other hand down her side while this was going on. It slid between their bellies and delved into the thick pubic hair and Angela heard the woman moan, the noise muffled on Paula's mouth.
Stepping back, Paula concentrated her attention on the woman's sex, her finger frotting against her clitoris. She raised her other hand and pinched the woman's nipple with her fingernails. Gloria's body trembled.
'Not yet, Gloria,' Paula said.
'Please, mistress...'
'You see how needy she is?'
Paula walked over to the tall walnut cupboard and opened the door. Angela could see the woman's eyes following her movements. She took out a leather strap and two very short bamboo rods. The middle of the strap was fitted with a cylinder of black rubber. 'Open your mouth,' she said, coming back to Gloria.
Without a word of protest, Gloria obeyed. Paula stuffed the black rubber between her lips, then pulled her head forward so she could secure the strap at the back of her neck. The rubber held her mouth open like the bit of a bridle, her teeth sinking into the rubber.
'This is her particular favourite,' Paula said, holding up the bamboo. Angela could see the rods comprised of a single strand of bamboo bound by a rubber band at each end. Holding the ends of one of the rods between her thumb and forefinger, Paula flexed it, and Angela saw that the bamboo had been split in two. The more Paula put pressure on the ends of the rods the bigger the split got. 'Aren't they, Gloria?'
The woman shook her head vigorously.
'Hold this,' Paula said, pressing one of the rods into Gloria's left hand, high above her head.
She flexed the other bamboo rod so it opened, then slotted it over the woman's left nipple. As she released her hold the bamboo sprang closed, its sharp edges cutting into the tender flesh. The woman gasped through the gag. Paula plucked the other rod from her hand and applied it, in exactly the same way, to her right nipple.
'Ingenious, don't you think?'
'Very,' Angela said. She felt a hard jolt of sensation as her own nipples hardened in sympathy.
'This is going to be a new experience for her,' she said, taking Angela's hand and pulling her closer. She kissed Angela lightly on the lips, then more intensely, crushing their bodies together. She was excited; Angela could feel it. Her whole body seemed to have come alive. She ran her hands down Angela's back and caressed her buttocks, moulding the palms of her hands to their curves. Then, without breaking the kiss, her left hand reached across to Gloria and caressed her pubic hair.
'What do you want me to do?' Angela asked.
'I have to warm Gloria up a bit first; then I thought we might give her a little show.'
Paula went to the rack of whips. She took down a short multi-tailed whip. It had a round polished wooden handle and the lashes were made from half-inch wide strips of black rubber. She swished it through the air a couple of times. 'This is what you want, isn't it, Gloria?'
Gloria shook her head, but Angela could see from the look in her eyes that this gesture did not express her true feelings. The sight of the whip was making her eyes sparkle with renewed excitement.
'Whipping a woman is altogether different from whipping a man,' Paula said. She raised the whip and casually cut it down across the top of Gloria's thighs. Gloria moaned through the gag. 'Men are most sensitive on their buttocks and cocks, but women seem to be able to respond equally well all over their bodies.' She raised it again and slashed it down on Gloria's left breast, making the bamboo rod quiver. 'But of course, there's no doubt about the most sensitive part of all...' She angled the whip inward, the rubber lashes flicking up between Gloria's legs. Paula aimed three more strokes at the same target, each more powerful than the first, each making Gloria whimper and wriggle against her unyielding bondage. Then Paula turned her attention to Gloria's breasts, slashing the rubber lashes against each of them in turn until they were marked with stripes of pink. Finally, she cut the whip across Gloria's belly and the top of her thighs, the woman's moans reaching a crescendo.
Angela watched Gloria soaking up this punishment. She had marvelled that a man should get pleasure from such sadistic treatment and it seemed even more extraordinary that a woman should, though there was no doubt from Gloria's body language and the expression in her eyes that she was doing precisely that. Her whole body was squirming subtly against the wall, her hips twisting from side to side.
'That's better,' Paula said, hanging the whip back on the rack. 'Feel her.'
Hesitantly, Angela extended her hand and touched Gloria's waist. Her body was radiating heat.
'Feel her pussy.'
Angela allowed her hand to run down to the woman's mons. At first she had not been sure how she felt about this new development. She certainly was not attracted to the woman and had no desire to kiss or fondle her. But Paula's presence and the effect of watching Gloria being whipped, each stroke creating a hard, tingling pulse deep in her own sex, had instilled a new urgency in her own desires and made her curious as to how she would react to touching another woman so intimately. Tentatively, she probed the thick pubic hair. It was damp. Under it, the woman's labia were wet. If she had any doubt that this treatment was exciting Gloria, here was the proof that it most definitely was.
'She's wet, isn't she?'
'Very,' Angela said. Experimentally,
she ran her finger along the slit of the woman's sex, and felt a little trill of pleasure in her own. It appeared she was not so disinterested, after all. It was the idea that the woman was helpless, that she could do anything to her that she wished and Gloria would be unable to stop her, that was turning her on. It was precisely the same excitement she had felt with Gregory.
She looked at Paula, to find that the brunette was watching her with an indulgent smile.
'Go on,' she said. 'Feel free.'
Angela crooked her middle finger into the mouth of Gloria's vagina and heard her give a little whisper of delight. She could actually feel the juices running out on to Gloria's thigh. Her own sex was just as wet, she was sure, the gusset of the panties clinging to her labia. She reached up to one of the bamboo rods and tweaked it, producing a shiver of sensation in her victim. The nipple was squeezed so tightly between the split in the wood that it was almost white.
'What do you want me to do now?' she asked.
Paula moved towards her and kissed her on the cheek, her hand rubbing against her breast.
'Go and lie down on the bed, while I make her a little more comfortable.'
Paula walked over to the cupboard and took out an odd-looking object made from some sort of moulded plastic. It was about the size of a small banana and curved like one too, with the convex side flat and the other shaped like the keel of a model boat, with a sharp ridge running the whole way down its length.
Angela sat on the edge of the bed. She watched as Paula took the object back to Gloria. Stooping down, she reached between Gloria's legs and grabbed hold of the wide white leather belt that hung there and pulled it up. She fitted the flat surface of the object against the leather strap and positioned it so the sharp edge cut into the whole length of Gloria's sex, pushing her labia apart. The belt was threaded through a buckle on the strap that circled her waist and cinched tight.
Paula patted Gloria's cheek. 'The really cruel thing could be to blindfold you,' she said. 'Shall I do that?'
The woman struggled to produce the word 'no'. The rubber bit of the gag was covered with her saliva.