by Becky Bell
'Do you still have sex with her?'
He laughed. 'Of course not. She's not at all interested in sex; I told you that. She just lays there and thinks of the way she played the bunker at the ninth hole. I'd have to use a whole tube of KY jelly just to get to first base.'
'Do you want a drink?'
'Not really.'
'So what do you want?' she said, coquettishly.
'I was hoping...' he said, wanting her to take the initiative. The ritual always began the same way. They always talked more after the event than before it.
'Get on your knees,' she said. She was wearing open-toed black satin high-heeled slippers, a black silk robe over a pair of skintight black leather panties - no more than a triangle of material with long thin straps hitched to the top of her hips, the waistband dipping in a loop over her belly.
'Yes, mistress.'
'I'm going into the treatment room. You will take all your clothes off, fold them neatly, then follow me. Do you understand?'
'Yes, mistress.'
She could see a bulge beginning to distend the front of his trousers.
'Is there anything you want me to put on, mistress?' he asked. That was a hint, of course. Since he had first come to the new flat he appeared to want to put on items of her lingerie, preferably ones that she had been wearing all day. He looked ridiculous in them, but that appeared to be part of the attraction. She even wondered what his reaction would be if she forced him to dress totally as a woman. She could buy a wig and do his make-up. It might be fun.
'Thank you for reminding me,' she said coldly. 'There's a suspender belt and stockings in the laundry basket in my bedroom. Put those on. And be careful you don't ladder the stockings.'
'Yes, mistress.'
She strode out of the room and down the corridor to the treatment room. Inside, she stripped off her robe and admired herself briefly in the mirror, smoothing the panties over her mons. She'd already worked out what she was going to do with him, and busied herself preparing the equipment.
After a few minutes there was a gentle knock on the door.
'Come in,' she said.
Gregory crawled in on his knees.
'Stand up,' she barked.
He got to his feet. Her suspender belt was much too small for him and bit into his waist. It was a narrow strip of white lace with four triangles of material that snaked down over his hips to end in long thin suspenders. The suspenders were clipped into flesh-coloured stockings. As his legs were much longer than Angela's, the stockings only reached halfway up his thighs. His cock, already fully erect, was framed at the front by the network of white lace.
'Over here,' she said.
Paula's specialist carpenter had made her two sturdy wooden posts, running from floor to ceiling in the middle of the room, about four feet apart. Hanging from each post, about six feet from the floor, were two short chains attached to leather cuffs. There were two more, about six inches from the floor.
Angela manoeuvred Gregory between the centre of the posts and secured his hands and feet in the cuffs, so that he was spread-eagled in the middle of the room.
'Good,' Angela said, stepping back to admire her work. She gripped his penis in her hand and squeezed it hard. She remembered how she had done this to the man in Paula's treatment room, before she'd known exactly who it was.
Angela felt her own arousal flowing over her. She had been excited since he'd called. She supposed, one day, the excitement might begin to wear off but at the moment it was all so new to her that she had trouble keeping it under control. On nights when she knew she would not be seeing Gregory, she had found it difficult to resist the temptation not to creep into the treatment room, strip off all her clothes and lie on the small double bed and masturbate, using one of the dildoes in her vagina, while she frotted her clitoris with another.
She walked to the chest of drawers and pulled out a strip of black silk.
'No,' he said, as he saw what she intended. Sometimes she was not sure whether he really meant to object or whether his protest was all part of the game. Not that it would make any difference. She decided what was going to happen to him and there was nothing he could do about it.
She wrapped the black silk over his eyes, ensuring it fitted snugly, then knotted it at the back of his head.
'That's better,' she said. She stood behind him, pressing her near-naked body into his back, her hands sliding down his chest until they both reached his cock, one circling it while the other cupped his scrotum. She wanked him gently, while she ground her navel against his firm buttocks, enjoying the little sensations this created as the thin gusset of the panties was dragged against her clit.
Then she moved away.
'All right, Gregory, I want you to do something for me. I want you to take your penis in your hand and let me see you masturbate. Will you do that for me?'
'Yes, mistress.' He waited, obviously expecting her to release his hand.
'Go on then,' she chided.
'I can't, mistress,' he said pathetically.
'Can't? What do you mean, you can't?'
'I can't reach it, mistress.' Despite the fact he knew it was impossible, he tried to free his right hand, wriggling it against the leather cuff and twisting it towards his loins.
'You're useless. I don't know why I put up with you.'
'Please, mistress...'
'Now I have no choice but to punish you.' However preposterous the pretext, she liked the punishment to be made to fit a crime.
She didn't have a rack of whips like the one Paula had, but the three whips she already possessed hung from a hook screwed into the wall at the side of the chest of drawers. She chose the riding crop, the first whip she had ever purchased - the symbol, for her at least, of how their relationship had started.
Moving with deliberate stealth, so he would not hear her, she came up behind him and raised the whip. Thwack. The first blow hit him full on the buttocks. He cried out loud.
'Shut up,' she chided.
Thwack. The second cut was lower, striking the top of his thighs.
This time he managed to stifle his exclamation. Thwack. His buttocks quivered.
'Don't ever disobey me again,' she said, smiling broadly.
She put the whip down and rubbed his buttocks with the palm of her hand, feeling the heat she had created. She ran her hand down between his legs and caught hold of his cock, pulling it back until it was pointing at the floor. He moaned. She let it go and it sprang up again so violently, it slapped against his belly.
The whipping had excited Angela as much as it had excited him. She moved round in front of him, stood on tiptoe and scissored her legs apart. Then she closed them again, trapping his erection between her thighs. She crushed her breasts into his chest at the same time.
'Does that feel good?'
'Yes, mistress.'
'Could you come like that?'
'Yes, mistress.'
'I bet he could.'
The voice came from the doorway. The door had opened and a tall strawberry-haired blonde stood in the doorway. She was wearing a lilac suit and a white blouse, the skirt short enough to show off her long and shapely legs. She had a rather long face with a delicate nose, a very symmetrical mouth and big blue eyes. The carefully plucked eyebrow over one of them was arched.
Gregory recognised her voice. 'Pamela - oh, Christ,' he said.
'So this is your little love nest?'
'Pamela it's not... I mean, I don't...' Gregory clearly couldn't think of anything to say. He struggled against the leather cuffs.
'Very careless, Greg, leaving these keys lying around.' She held up a key ring with a little horseshoe motif in gold. 'I couldn't find anything they fitted, so naturally I got curious. It was very easy to follow you here. I just waited on the station for you to get the London train, then got a cab to follow you.'
'What about your golf dinner?'
'I lied, Greg. Just like you've been lying to me all these years. She's very pretty. L
ovely, in fact.' Pamela Wilmott walked into the room and closed the door behind her. She stooped and picked up the riding crop. 'Is this one of his?' she asked Angela.
'No,' Angela said. She stepped back from Gregory and covered her breasts with her arms.
'Oh, don't be shy,' Pamela said. 'You've got a lovely body. Gregory, on the other hand, looks rather obscene in stockings, don't you think?' She ran the leather loop at the top of the whip up Gregory's left leg and along the suspender. Then she flicked it hard against his already wilting penis. 'So this is what you want, is it, Gregory? This is why you've had so many late meetings? Did you really think I wouldn't get suspicious?' She thwacked the whip against his thigh with tremendous force and Gregory yelped.
'Please get me down from here.'
Angela moved to release one of his restraints, but Pamela barred the way. 'No, don't. If this is what he wants, let him have it.' She slashed the whip across his buttocks and he screamed in agony. A bright red weal appeared.
'Please, Pamela, stop it. Just get me down from here and I can explain.'
'There's nothing to explain, Greg. You've never been interested in having sex with me. Not even in the beginning. Now I know why. You wanted a more colourful agenda.' She ran the tip of the whip up to his face and pushed it against his lips. 'Why didn't you ever ask me to do this for you?' She pulled the whip away and cut it down across his thighs again, narrowly missing his cock. He cried out, struggling desperately to free himself from his bonds.
'I did.'
'No, you didn't, Greg. If you had, I think I would have really relished the idea.' She walked behind him. 'I'd love to see you walking around in my panties. I'd make you wear a bra, too. And these marks on your bum. Do you really think I haven't seen them before? You're so naive, Greg.' She raised the whip and cracked it down on his buttocks.
He screamed. 'Please, please, let me down, Pamela.' His whole body was squirming.
'Hold this for me for a minute, would you, dear?' Pamela said, walking back around her husband and handing Angela the whip. Angela was so astonished at her intrusion, she took it meekly.
'Would you be so kind as to take his blindfold off?' she said. 'I want his face to be clearly visible.'
Angela did as she was told. As the black silk fell away, Gregory blinked against the light.
'I'm going to give you a simple choice, Gregory.' Pamela took a compact camera from her jacket pocket. She pointed it at Gregory and began taking photographs of him, one after another. Gregory struggled desperately to get free, but there was no escape. 'Either you come home with me now, or you stay here. That's simple enough for you, isn't it?' She put the camera back in her pocket.
'Just let me down. I can't discuss this while I'm strung up here.'
'Can I have the whip again please, my dear?' Pamela said, holding out her hand.
Angela handed her the whip. 'Why did you decide to do this now, after so long?' she asked quietly.
'Because I have sexual needs too, and either I am going to get a divorce and find someone who can take care of them for me, or I'm going to get Gregory here to do it for me. I thought perhaps he was having a straight affair. Now I know what he's really into, it's much easier to deal with.'
She walked behind her husband, raised the whip and slashed it down with considerable force across the meat of his buttocks. Gregory gasped. Another blow fell immediately, and another and another. Despite his situation, Angela saw his erection beginning to grow again. Pamela noticed it, too.
'It really turns him on, then,' she said. She was smiling an evil smile. Angela could see her working out all the implications of her discovery. The anger in her eyes had been replaced by something that was very close to excitement.
'Please, Pamela.'
'Please what? Do you want more of the whip?'
'No.' He flinched, pulling himself away from her as far as the bondage would allow.
'Untie him, will you?'
Angela began to unbuckle Greg's arms. He whimpered as he lowered them, the cramp in his muscles making his shoulders ache.
'Where are his clothes?' Pamela asked.
'In my bedroom.'
'I'm leaving now, Greg. If you want to come with me, you'd better get dressed.'
Gregory looked at his wife, then at Angela. He smiled a wan smile and walked out of the room.
'I know you, don't I?' Pamela said, looking hard into Angela's face.
It was possible she had seen her in the village, but Angela was sure they had never met. She had never known what Gregory's wife looked like. 'No,' she said definitely. She didn't want any of this getting back to her mother.
'I don't blame you, dear,' Pamela said. 'None of this is your fault. I should have kept a closer eye on him.'
Angela wasn't sure what she should say. Gregory had painted a picture of his wife as some old battleaxe with a tweed suit, a shooting stick and green wellington boots who wasn't at all interested in sex. She had no idea that Pamela was such an attractive woman. Had she known, she might have thought twice about Gregory's offer; though she doubted, in the end, she would have done anything differently.
Pamela smiled at her sweetly and marched out of the room. Gregory was standing in the hall, trying to stuff his shirt into his trousers.
'Come on, Gregory, we've a lot of talking to do.'
Chapter Eight
'Mmm... God that feels so good.'
'I know.'
Paula pushed the dildo deeper. It was large and black, coarsely moulded to resemble a male phallus. It slid into Angela's vagina with ease, her wetness lubricating its passage.
'Oh, yes.'
Angela was lying on Paula's big double bed, with Paula kneeling at her side. They were both naked, and their bodies were perfumed by the bath oil that Paula had poured into the bath they had taken together fifteen minutes before.
Paula eased the second dildo into Angela's labia. It was no bigger than a finger, smooth and straight. She nudged it against the blonde's clit, then turned it on. The vibrations made Angela's whole body shudder.
'Oh Paula, God...' She raised her head to look at what the woman was doing to her, but let it fall back again, the sensations that swept over her making the effort too great.
Paula wasn't finished yet. Dipping her head forward, she kissed Angela's left breast, then centred her lips on her nipple and sucked it gently into her mouth. Catching the puckered bud between her teeth, she pulled the whole breast up by it, stretching the pliant flesh.
'What are you doing to me?'
Paula moved her head over to Angela's right breast, repeating the process, then began running her mouth between the two nipples, licking, nibbling, kissing and pinching them both.
'You're making me come.'
'That's what I want,' Paula said.
'What about you?' Angela tried to pull Paula's thigh to one side, and wriggle herself under it, but Paula resisted.
'No, this is for you,' she insisted.
It was Monday night. Angela had called Paula to tell her what had happened with Gregory and she had invited her round. There would, she told her, be no other guests. It was her night off.
Paula circled the tiny dildo against her clit, while she ploughed the larger model in and out. The two erogenous zones were communicating with each other, sending out messages, each telling the other how good it felt. Slowly and inexorably the feelings came together, combining into something that was a great deal more thrilling than the sum of its two parts. Angela tossed her head from side to side as the sensations surged through her. Her clitoris was at the centre of it all, the vibrations that seized it affecting every nerve. Angela arched her body off the bed, supporting herself on her heels and shoulders and, as Paula thrust the larger dildo deep into her vagina and held it there, she came. Her orgasm was not sharp and incisive but velvet-soft and tender. It matched her mood exactly.
She turned her head to look at Paula. 'Lovely,' she said.
Paula switched off the little dildo, then allowed the b
igger dildo to slide from Angela's body under its own weight. Its final departure made Angela shudder.
'Now it's your turn,' Angela said decisively, sitting up.
'I was hoping you would say that.'
Paula lay back on the bed and spread her legs apart. Her big breasts trembled, their weight pulling them out to the side.
Angela picked up the dildoes.
'No,' Paula said, 'just use your mouth.'
'And my fingers?' Angela said, holding up her hand and grinning. There was a time when even the thought of doing what she was doing would have seemed totally depraved. Perhaps that was one reason it was so exciting.
She knelt up on the bed alongside her friend and leant forward. She ran the tip of her tongue along Paula's bottom lip; then kissed her while she sank her fingers into the soft, malleable flesh of her breast. Slowly, Angela moved her mouth down Paula's neck and along her collarbone, until she could feed her nipple into her mouth. She sucked it hard and Paula moaned. She used both her hands to gather up Paula's breasts and push them together, so their nipples were no more than six inches apart, then moved her mouth from one to the other alternately, pinching them with her teeth, or flicking them with her tongue. Leaning over Paula's body, she held her left breast in both hands so the nipple was sticking out prominently, and rubbed her own against it. The orgasm she had just experienced had sensitised the little puckered nub of flesh and she felt a wave of pleasure.
Wanting to concentrate on Paula's feelings, not her own, Angela pulled back, running both her hands down over Paula's hips and thighs. The brunette's flesh was smooth and silky to the touch. She stroked down as far as her knees, then brought her hands up again, this time on the inside of her legs. When she reached Paula's sex, she played the fingers of both hands over Paula's labia without penetrating them. Then, with the fingers of her right hand she splayed the thick lips apart until she could see the pink and glistening interior. She could see her clitoris too, a little lozenge shaped promontory right at the top. Leaning forward, she stroked the tip of her tongue against it. Paula gasped at the first touch.