The Velvet Caress

by C. P. Mandara

  The paddle came down upon my ass with a reassuring smack, and before I could fully appreciate the resulting sting another one was already in its wake. For a few brief moments in time my mind shut down and all I could do was feel the power of the blows raining down upon my flesh. Absorbing the sting took all my concentration and never had I been more grateful for the fact. All thoughts of guilt, hospitals, death, and retribution left me as I battled my body's response to the physical stimuli it was receiving. It was an uphill struggle, quite literally. My cock was already battling to free itself from the tiny cage, and each stroke further enraged it. Sophia gave me the full works with the paddle for a good ten minutes or so, and by the end of the warm up my ass and legs were on fire. It was hard to believe that once upon a time I submitted to this on a daily basis. What had happened to that man? He'd grown stronger, tougher, and smarter.

  'Nothing's changed then,' Sophia remarked as she finally laid the paddle to rest, before standing directly in front of me.

  'What do you mean?' She'd caught me unawares with the question, so my mind whirred as I tried to catch up.

  Raising her eyebrow she pointed to my straining cock and I stifled a laugh. Oh, that.

  'Plenty's changed, but some things will always stay the same.' Down boy, down.

  'You're going to be very popular around these parts soon.' Sophia patted my nose. 'Admit it, you're looking forward to serving them.'

  'I admit to nothing, and I hope you've informed them about my "no sex" rule. It hasn't changed and whip or no whip, I'll safe-word if you cross that line.' I meant it.

  'Relax darling. They can still have plenty of fun with you, even if you aren't hammering back and forth between their thighs trying to puncture a few vital organs. You were always very good at that, you know. You'll make someone a lovely husband one of these days.' Her tone had softened, so I knew we were back in 'friend' mode, but I had a feeling she was just trying to distract me before the main event began.

  'The jury's out on that,' I said. 'I've been nothing but monstrous to my wife. If past performance is anything to go by I'm probably going to rot in hell one of these days.'

  'For richer for poorer, in sickness and in health. She'll come round, just give her time. Then you'll really have your work cut out. A woman scorned, and all that.' She looked at me and winked.

  'Don't.' I didn't even want to think about that.

  'There's one thing I don't understand, though. Why didn't she just poison you? Call me selfish, but that's what I would have done. Did she take the poison meant for you? Or were both glasses poisoned, so you could have a Romeo and Juliet-esque ending?'

  Trust Sophia to get straight to the heart of the matter. That was something else that had been bothering me, but I wasn't about to discuss it here.

  'No comment,' I replied.

  She raised her eyebrows in surprise. 'I think you might have just answered my question. Unfortunately we haven't got time for chitchat right now. The ladies are waiting.' Picking up the rubber flogger she caressed its wicked-looking flails in her hand. 'Are you ready for this?' She performed a couple of strokes in mid-air that landed on her left glove with a resounding smack. This was going to hurt, and I was oh-so-ready for that. It might even take my mind off the witches for a while.

  'Let's go,' I said.

  Sophia needed no further encouragement. The whip began whirring in her hands, and before she'd even walked around my body I felt a sharp sting to the top of my right shoulder blade. Now this was more like it. Another two vicious flicks of her wrists and I was seeing stars. Big, bright stars, which had a white-hot intensity. Forcing my body to go limp in the stocks I absorbed everything she had to give without a murmur. My time for screaming would come, but it wasn't yet. At least she was giving me the full works, and not holding back. I don't think I could have borne it, had she been gentle with me. Thankfully that was not the case. This woman was going to keep me on my toes, and I had better up my game if I wanted to survive the session.

  After a mere five minutes it was safe to say that the flogger was winning and I was losing. This was the suffering I had been craving. The pain was intense, and my skin was being fried. It actually felt good. It had been a long time since I'd felt anything like it. As each fresh blow landed my endorphin level ratcheted up another level, and the adrenaline that was flowing through me was almost caustic. Being flogged to within an inch of your life feels a bit like being buried in battery acid, everything starts to burn and liquefy at once.

  'Any special words for me yet?'

  Sophia stood in front of me once again and had to prop my chin up with the whip handle, I was so limp. Me, not my cock. That was still standing rigidly to attention and would be until she'd finished with me. Staring at her with glazed eyes I wondered if she'd repeat the question for me.

  'Mark. Is anybody in there? Are there any special words you want to say?' The handle was nudged into my cheek several times to make sure I was paying attention.

  I sighed and unglued my tongue from the roof of my mouth. She would expect an answer to her question, one way or another. Shaking my head, I gave her a half smile. It was all I was capable of.

  'Can you even remember your safe-word?' She gave me a sideways look as she drew the flails gently across my chest. At least I could be thankful that that part of me still remained fully intact and mostly unscarred by her expert whip hand.

  Swallowing a couple of times, I finally managed to get some saliva flowing. 'What will you do if I've forgotten it?' Now I'd caught my breath back I was feeling much better. I couldn't be too bad if the old sarcasm gene was still in good working order.

  'I'd probably spank you,' she drawled.

  'Then I've forgotten my safe-word,' I drawled right back.

  'Oh goody,' she laughed. Pulling the anal beads out in one foul swoop, she let the flails continue their journey over my body. I howled. The sound of her spike heels echoed in my ears as she began to explore her handiwork. The woman checked out every single inch of me, and some areas were considerably more tender than others. By the time she'd finished her thorough perusal sweat was pouring off my forehead, making a mess on the tiled floor below. I was sure I'd pay for that later. Gritting my teeth ruefully, I realised I had so much more to look forward to. As the thought entered my head the sound of footsteps and laughter began to float down the wooden stairs. Oh shit. Now the fun and games were really about to begin.

  Sophia let me suffer as their slow steps began to get louder and louder. Unfortunately I could hear all the things they wanted to do to me, and they made sure they said them loud enough for my ears. The witches were well trained. They knew how to inspire fear and awe with minimal fuss. I should know.

  'Don't listen to them,' Sophia whispered softly in my ear. Easy for her to say. She wasn't the one who was going to be left at the mercy of all those beasts outside.

  'Tell them to go away.' I might have been pleading just a little bit, and though I knew it wouldn't do any good I couldn't help myself.

  'My poor baby. Don't tell me you're frightened of a few girls?' Sophia cracked the flogger against my backside once more and my knees buckled. 'Man up, darling, and take your punishment like a good boy.'

  The cool, latex fingers came back to gently soothe away the nasty ache and distract me. The trouble was, I knew exactly what was waiting for me.

  'Are you ready for this?' She gave my ass a light tap and I had to grit my teeth to prevent myself from spluttering. God, I wasn't sure I could do this.

  'No.' And I meant it. Those women always sent the fear of God into me. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Ha! Whoever had said that hadn't counted on a pack of Sophia's dominatrix friends heading their way. They might have reconsidered, otherwise.

  'Good. Then that's exactly how it should be. Better put your hands together and pray, darling.' There was a snort of laughter. 'Too bad you can't, huh?'

  Holding my breath, I watched the door anxiously and wondered if there was any chance in hell that t
hey might take it easy on me. Then I shook my head. Who was I kidding? Those women were going to grind me into the floor, stamp all over me, chew me up and then spit me out without breaking into a sweat. Hands or no hands, praying was probably a good idea.

  Chapter Ten - Leyland

  I don't remember Mark Matthews ever having given me a present before. Whilst we might never have actually been 'enemies' it was general knowledge that we were 'friendly rivals' and we both took great pleasure in yanking each other's chain whenever possible. Today it seemed all of that had changed, because I was doing the man not one but two favours, and all in the space of a few hours.

  What did you wear to interrogate someone? I decided I wanted to look brooding and mean, but couldn't quite decide how that was going to work. My life was generally spent in a suit, but that just didn't feel right for the scenario I had planned. I wanted to scare the damn woman witless, whilst at the same time make her believe I had no scruples whatsoever. So that meant I needed to be offbeat, a little unhinged, and a spot of absolutely fucking crazy wouldn't go amiss, either. I didn't think it would be a problem. In all honesty, I hadn't stopped thinking about his proposition all day. It wasn't every day you got a beautiful submissive woman delivered to you gift-wrapped with a bright-red bow. The idea was all the more appealing because the woman had originally been Mark's. I could pick her brains to my heart's content, and maybe discover a few little things about Matthews that might come in useful at a later date. It was doubtful, as Mark probably wouldn't have let me near her if she knew too much, but he was under a good degree of stress at the moment, so it was worth a shot. Besides, I was a fucking sadist, and this kind of shit got me off in the worst way.

  What are you going to wear, Leyland? The excitement bubbling up inside me was bizarre and distracting. I felt like a bag of microwave popcorn that was in full explosion mode. You've played with pretty girls before, Leyland. Get a grip. Whilst all of that was true, I hadn't played with one of Mark's pretty girls before. The idea was intoxicating and I couldn't wait to get started.

  Leafing through my wardrobe I came upon a pair of old lightly scuffed blue jeans, sporting a few rips here and there. They'd be perfect. Now what else was I going to wear? A T-shirt just seemed wrong, and a polo shirt even worse. I wanted to be halfway between smart and casual, so I guess I knew what that meant. Searching through my shirts, I finally found a white Hugo Boss number. That would work. Now all I had to do was run some gel through my hair, spray a bit of aftershave here and there, and I'd be ready to go.

  I already had an idea of what I would need, so I'd packed a small holdall with a few items that might come in handy later. The address of the safe house was stored carefully in my pocket, and the coordinates had already been programmed into my satnav. I'd been made aware that there was security on the door to the building, but told they would be expecting me. Mark had told me there was no immediate rush, and that it could wait a few days if needed, but I wasn't going to give the bastard a chance to change his mind. A brief phone call to Lilah was all that was needed to free my calendar for the next couple of days, and now I was free to play. It felt good. I'd been working far too hard lately. My brief sojourn at Escape a couple of nights ago had been the only downtime scheduled into a month of sixteen hour days, back to back meetings, and gruelling long haul trips all around the country. While Lilah would probably throw a fit at my sudden departure, I suspected it would be worth it. Besides, that was why I paid her a big fat bonus cheque every year. Now that my conscience was clear, all I needed to do was get my ass down to that safe house. Wait, wait, I cautioned, because as usual I was getting ahead of myself.

  Deciding I'd better eat before I tackled torture on a mass scale, I searched through the freezer until something almost edible came into view, and just in case it wasn't I nuked it to within an inch of its life. Although I had a housekeeper she'd taken the week off, and I couldn't even cook baked beans. I'm serious. I had absolutely no idea how the oven worked, nor did I have any inclination to learn. The microwave was my bitch, though, and I knew exactly how that baby operated. Shove it in, press all the right buttons and treat her gently. I'd also learnt the hard way that you should never go past the allotted time slot, else she was likely to explode or burst into flames.

  Cracking open a can of diet soda to accompany my meal, I launched myself upon the sofa and found the sports channel. Formula One was on, and it just about managed to keep me entertained for the duration of my short meal, though there were no noteworthy crashes. Normally I would have settled in for the ride, but not even a finely tuned Ferrari or Mercedes engine could keep me entertained this evening. I was still after a finely tuned body, of course, but featuring a very different design.

  I already knew roughly what the design would entail - long legs, perfectly symmetrical features, big blue eyes and bright blonde hair. That was the standard specification of a Matthew's woman. I didn't have a problem with that, although I didn't mind the other variants, either. All I knew was that the woman waiting for me tonight would be absolutely stunning. That on its own wasn't enough to hold my attention, but the methods I employed for extracting information from her might keep me entertained for a few hours or so. Time would tell. I just hoped the woman had some stamina. If she fell at the first hurdle it was going to be a very disappointing evening, and I didn't handle disappointments well.

  Parking my car in the underground garage indicated in the brief I'd been given, I wasted no time grabbing my holdall and making my way above ground. The property was relatively easy to locate, less than a three-minute walk away, and in no time at all I was conversing with the security guard.

  The burly man looked me up and down and checked my likeness with an image he'd been given on his cell. When he was confident I was the man in question, he gave me a standard pin tumbler lock key and indicated an archway to his right. He also gave me his business card, which contained his cell phone number. I would need to call him to be granted access in and out of the main gate. Placing the card in my back pocket I thanked him as he unlocked the entryway for me, and strode on quickly ahead.

  The metal gate that greeted me parted easily to my touch and closed silently behind me, whirring shut in my wake. In front of me was a bizarre creation, but you got used to things like this in London. Once upon a time it had been a quaint little Victorian residence, but some posh city designer had recently done a number on it. There was a three-storey extension that had been rendered, giving it a smooth, matt black finish. There were also lots of massive glass panels everywhere, some of which housed a rooftop garden, and others that framed the kitchen and lounge. Everything looked minimalist in design, which didn't surprise me at all knowing Mark, and I already had a rough idea what to expect when I got inside. It would have cream walls, brown leather furniture and chrome features, or something very similar. I smiled. It seemed that my victim's prison wasn't half as bad as it could be. Trust Mark to go easy on the woman. Bloody soft touch, that boy was.

  Using my key, I opened the door quietly and stepped inside. Making a minimal amount of noise I tried my best to listen carefully for sounds of life. No one had told me where the girl was being kept, and I had visions of her coming at me with a carving knife. Would Mark have been smart enough to remove all hazardous items from the house before bringing her here? Unlikely, and he'd find it all the more entertaining, knowing I was the one that would have to deal them. I wondered if the bastard had CCTV in here. I didn't give a fuck, anyway. If he pulled a blackmail stunt on me after I'd just tried to help save his wife's life, he was a total asshole. It was unlikely, because if he was taking footage of me he was also taking footage of his ex-employee and that would get him in a whole load of shit, too. Advancing forward carefully, I stopped dead and strained my ears for noise. After a full minute I frowned. It was possible that the woman was sleeping, but unlikely. If I'd done a number on Matthews, and he'd managed to get his hands on me, I wouldn't be sleeping, that was for sure. So where was she, and what was she
doing? Come out, come out, wherever you are.

  I was standing in the lounge and it didn't look like anyone had been in here. There was a brown suede sofa without a cushion out of place, a glass coffee table complete with several pristine-looking magazines that didn't look like they'd been touched, and a large flat screen TV. Placing my hand gently upon the TV confirmed that it was not warm, and had not been used recently. Advancing to the kitchen area provided no more clues to the girl's whereabouts. There were no glasses or dishes in the sink, and the back of my hand on the swanky chrome coffee machine and kettle detected no heat there either. Hmm. I scanned the work surfaces for a knife block and didn't find one. What I did find was a magnetic knife rack next to the cooker which currently held four stainless steel knives, all evenly spaced apart. The question was: had it held more? Time would tell.

  Advancing stealthily upon the black slate tiles, I rounded the corner and found a dining room. A quick glance confirmed that no one was hiding there either. The downstairs toilet also heralded no signs of life, so it looked like I was going to have to venture upstairs. If the lady in question did have a knife I was going to be mightily pissed. I was wearing one of my favourite Boss shirts and if she managed to put a few holes in it I was not going to be best pleased.

  Pausing at the bottom of the stairs for a few seconds I listened intently once again for anything that might indicate a human being was within, with no more success than before. Where the hell was this woman? Cursing under my breath I made my way upstairs as quietly as possible.

  Fortunately I was met with no immediate pitfalls. There were no creaky floorboards that might have given away my presence nor were there any obstacles barring my way. Hmmm. Upon reaching the top of the stairs I was greeted with four doors, all of which were closed. How convenient. Now I just had to guess which one she was hiding behind. This game was getting more exciting by the second. Eenie-meenie-miny-mo.