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She checked her instructions carefully for at least the tenth time in the last half an hour, the printed sheet now crumpled from repeated folding and unfolding, Number 17 Naysmith drive, left out of the station, down Arkwright street for three hundred yards and turn left at the Red Lion into Merethorpe Gardens and then second left.
The high arch of the honeysuckle shrouded pergola gateway loomed above the street, setting No 17 apart from it's matching stone Edwardian town house neighbours, she checked her instructions one last time she moved the key from her sweating palm to her shaking fingers, placed the instructions back in her pocket and with more confidence than she felt she walked the few steps up into the half timbered porch and tried her key in the door.
The cylinder lock clicked quietly, she turned the separate door knob and the black and white panelled door swung open revealing a tidy freshly painted hallway, the glazed floor tiles gleamed freshly cleaned, the rugs and mats looked clean as well , the hallway was just as the photographs he had emailed, she felt she knew the place and she was relieved to smell just the scent of air freshener, no cigarettes, no dogs, and no burned food.
She knew where to find the bathroom and the guest bedroom beyond, up the stairs and to the left, it was just as in the photographs, a red stair carpet securely clipped to the centre of the dark oak stairs, the twin stair rails an unusual feature, but she was sure they had their uses, and there on the stairs she saw a note, she picked it up.
"If you need to you can leave any extras in the pedal bin beside the refrigerator at the back of the kitchen." it stated.
He knew, but how could he, she wondered, she had at least obeyed most of his instructions, wear just a simple dress and high heels, leave everything else but the key, the directions and train ticket at home, but while she had no qualms about leaving off her bra, the thought of not wearing any knickers was too much, certainly on the train it was out of the question and she intended to leave them at the station lavatory, except she forgot the twenty pence, then she was to use the Ladies at the Red Lion, but they were shut and so there was no real opportunity to take them off she rationalised, and then she remembered guiltily that she had sewn two twenty pound notes into the hem of her dress just in case.
But how had he guessed? was she really one of a string of slaves or submissives, she wondered? but how had he known she would disobey so soon?
She slid the thong down her long bronzed legs, it caught on her heel and she had to grab at the table for balance and as instructed she threw them in the bin without a second thought, barely lifting the lid an inch, they landed with a splash, and as she opened the lid a second time, wider now she saw it was part filled with water.
The pine kitchen table had a pot pouri as a centrepiece, the polished pine doors of the kitchen units sparkled, the work tops uncluttered, everything spotlessly clean, even the polished black and white diamond pattern floor tiles gleamed, one coffee cup, one plate, one bowl and one single glass graced the rack on the draining board beside the sink, otherwise nothing was out of place.
She returned to the hallway and climbed the stairs, her high heels felt awkward on the deep pile of the stair carpet and she was grateful for the double stair rails and relieved to reach the top and turn left through the bathroom door, she hesitated briefly. They had discussed what she was to do next many times, to shower, and shave and make her was naked except fot the high heels to the guest bedroom, and then after ten months of emails they were to meet, the moment when fantasy to met reality, all those erotic thoughts through the exchange of emails and all the promises they had made, would she be able to keep them?
There was no one there, just a note, Instructions, she picked it up, unfolded the A4 sheet read down, the list, shower, shave, dry yourself thoroughly, wear only the heels and move to the guest bedroom next door.
She crept to the bedroom, cautiously opened the door and looked in, it was a neat little box room, crisply painted in white, everything crisp and clean even the metal bed frame painted white contrasting with the natural pine finish of the single wardrobe and dressing table, the dark brown carpet appeared almost brand new, the light fitting.
A box lay on the bed, on the bare mattress, a box with an A4 sheet on it, a cardboard box, bigger than a shoe-box, she picked up the instructions, "The Instructions are in the box, shower first." it said.
She lifted the box, tore off the tape and opened the lid, steel or was it chromium gleamed, and black lace and instructions, she flicked the lid shut. Suddenly it was real, real handcuffs, and there was something in black lace, lying in the bottom of the box, she wondered what it was so she opened the lid again, slowly this time.
Four sets of Handcuffs, all ratchet type, keyless, a ball gag, a blindfold, a dog collar and a wide black choker with what looked like a large brooch attached to the centre, it seemed bizarre, how could she wear both a choker and a dog collar together? And the underwear, stockings suspenders, how could she choose, and then she realised, there were full instructions.
She sat on the bed thinking, turning the events over in her mind, Ten months of emails casual to begin with, starting with his reply to her attempt at writing erotic fiction, then more frequent, his dominant persona complementing her submissive side until the suggestion that they meet.
They only lived thirty miles apart, for nine months neither thought to ask about practicalities and yet a short Taxi ride, Half an hour on the train, and then a short walk had brought her to his home.
They had exchanged photographs, neither wished to risk a web cam, and neither knew if the other had sent a genuine photograph, she had sent a recent picture from the previous summer and he seemed pleased but was that man in the picture actually him? He certainly looked hansom in the photograph but was it up to date? he could be very old or worse.
Yet her fantasies were all about being helpless in the power of a stranger, she tried a handcuff around her wrist, tightened and then released the rachet, tried the dog collar, and then the wide black velvet choker, and as she did she liked the way the choker complemented her neck, the soft colouring of the brooch fixed to the choker setting off her shoulder length blonde hair, but, she rationalised, this was not supposed to be about what she wanted, but this was supposed to be about what he wanted.
The instructions were explicit, "Dress to please me, apply the gag, apply the blindfold and attach the handcuffs according to the attached plan."
The question of what to wear weighed heavily on her as she went to the bathroom,"Shower." she had been told, but in the shower cubicle, on the control wheel, was another instruction.
"Rinse your dress and put it in the washing machine so it's clean for tomorrow, The cycle runs overnight."
She stood and stared, it was clear cut and binary, yet she chose to merely set her dress and shoes to one side and to start the shower running, she took the shower head and a piece of soap and started to wash herself, the grime of the train ride washed easily from her feet, and as it was barely two hours since she showered at home so she wasted little time on her tight flat stomach or her pert C cup breasts and then she was finished.
She shivered, was it cold or was it fear, she did not know, she could still leave, her knickers were soaking in the pedal bin, but her dress was dry, she decided to keep her options open, she dried herself in a huge white towel she found in the bathroom and she made her way slowly to the bedroom, she sat on the bed reading the instructions he had left her, she thought very hard of what he would want but the choker with that beautiful brooch looked so perfect that she felt it must please him.
Stockings, suspenders, what would he prefer?, she wondered, but instead of making a decision she went to collect her high heel shoes from the bathroom and only then on her return did she begin to dress.
"Close the bedroom door before applying the blindfold and affixing the handcuffs." the Instructions ordered, she remembered and walked across and closed the door, it clicked gently as it shut, and she returned to the bed, that was when she remembered the towel which she should have left in the Bathroom she got as far as putting her hand on the door knob but as she pulled it came away in her hand, she stared at the square shaft left sticking out of the door, she knew with care she could refit it and pull the door open, or push the spindle through so trapping herself but she chose to do neither.
She shook slightly, trembled, her nipples were stiff but from cold, she felt no excitement, no warmth or wetness down below, she always became moist at the mere mention of bondage or dominance in erotic fiction or film, where she could identify with the heroine, yet here she felt fear, scared not excited at all, she sat once more weighing up whether to leave.
To stay or to go, she was undecided but she convinced herself that had invested too much time in this relationship to walk away, she had indeed even arranged a weeks holiday to follow this assignation in case he wished her to remain bound or to be his slave for a whole week.
Would he mis treat her, with a whip, perhaps, when she was helpless, as he said he would,she wondered, yet somehow the excitement was absent, anticipation had become dread , the thoughts would normally thrill her, left her cold, physically cold, goose bumps appeared across her arms, she sat and thought hard once more.
It was with resignation rather than excitement she pulled the nylons on and clipped the suspender belt round her waist before attaching the straps. She added the choker checking her appearance in the mirror on the dressing table and as instructed she put the red ball gag in her mouth and fastened the buckle, she tried the blindfold then left it around her neck as she found the handcuffs and started to clip them as instructed, the small painted letters on the bed frame marking where they should be attached.
Left foot to mark A, she pulled the rachet tight around the bed frame and reasonably tight around her ankle, it was a big stretch to get her right leg to the right side B mark and with her legs so wide spread she struggled to balance as she leaned forward to tighten the cuff around the bed frame and then around her ankle, the cuffs ratchets clicking down tight as she pulled against the them.
Left hand to C it said, this was awkward but twisting across she somehow managed to clip a cuff around the bed frame and to get the other end around her wrist and pull tight which meant she merely had to pull the blindfold on and fix the other cuff, and then wait.
She slid the blindfold over her eyes easily enough, clipped the cuff around her wrist by using her cuffed left hand on the right handcuff and then struggled blindly to attach her right wrist to the D mark.
She struggled awkwardly in her self imposed darkness, and then she heard a voice in the darkness.
"Would you like a Coffee?" The rich Baritone voice enquired.
She jumped, she expected to hear him approach. "Mngggh." she exclaimed in shock
"Sugar?" he asked.
"Whhhfuuk" She replied in horror.
"It's not working is it." he sighed.
"Nnng" she agreed, but she felt his body was close. he kissed her left ankle, it felt warm and wet and, well, nice.
"Hows that?" He asked.
"Mmmm" she replied.
"You're a silly romantic not a sub." He announced, "I've been watching you on CCTV from the attic."
"yynngg" she replied, in shock.
"You disobeyed me from the start, I said no panties." he reminded her, "Your dress is still dry, shall I send you home?"
She nodded then shook her head, and then he took her right hand and raised it to his lips before kissing it. "Never mind,", he said "There's a bathrobe here, I'll see you in the kitchen in five minutes, I'm sure you can release yourself."
She heard the door open, and as he walked away she removed her blindfold, and started to release the ratchets on the cuffs, the ankles were difficult to remove as she had pulled the cuffs so tight but within minutes she had dressed in the bathrobe he had left her and she was ready to make her way downstairs,
"I said five minutes," He said as he swept into the room with a tray with biscuits and two coffee cups.
She gasped, he was naked except for his boxer shorts, and the broad shoulders and the muscled chest and the rugged but strangely beautiful face was just as she she had she had fallen in love with in the photographs, "Why?" she asked.
"You seemed uncertain, you didn't seem serious, and I didn't think you really wanted to be a slave, and you weren't excited were you?"
"No," she admitted. "It was just as I imagined but I didn't feel like I expected to."
He handed her the coffee cup as she sat on the bed, "Did you eat or drink after mid day." he asked.
"No," she admitted as she took the cup and started to sip, her hand shook slightly so she held it with both hands.
"I have a table booked for eight, it's only a Carvery, but." he started to say but she stopped him.
"I've nothing to wear." she pointed out.
"If you told the truth when you emailed me about your size then I am sure there is something in the wardrobe." he reassured her. "You were honest I hope?" he queried.
"Yes," she said quietly, "Mostly."
"You waxed not shaved?" he pointed out.
She shivered, realising he was staring at her sex, how could she tell him of the humiliation of travelling forty miles to a salon where no one knew her for a Brazillian after she accidentally knicked herself with a razor.
"Yes, my hand shook too much when I used a razor." she admitted.
"It's nice," he admitted, "but I like shaved." he added. "May I?"
She looked as he knelt down before her and kissed her on her flat tummy, and then opened her lower lips with his thumbs to peer within, a bead of moisture trickled down to drip onto the mattress.
"Put the Coffee cup down it's time." he ordered.
"What," she replied, as he took the cup and laid it on the floor, then with one movement he pulled the suspender belt and stockings down to her ankles and threw them together with her shoes across into a corner.
She watched as he slipped his Boxer shorts down releasing his erection, and then he was kneeling on the bed, aiming his long hard pink member at her tender bald pussy.
It was too soon, she was not really ready,"No." she cried.
He stopped instantly, and sat up.
"What?"
"I'm not ready." she said.
"O.k." he said, "I'll go watch TV or do some gardening while you." he saw her fingers working frantically, her own thumb deep inside her, and then as it emerged glistening she said.
"I am now." she smiled.
He sank forward, and she guided him within the soft wet warm embrace of her vagina, she closed her eyes and felt his hot breath on her cheek and then the soft touch of his lips on hers, his tongue racing around her teeth, while his ever advancing penis eased ever deeper within her, seemingly filling every inch of her to its utmost limit.
"Oh, that's nice." she cooed.
"Only nice," he chided.
"Nice," she repeated, "Not what I expected, but better."
"You want a lover not a master, don't you?" he suggested.
"Perhaps," she replied.
"An equal?" he added.
"Yes, sorry," she replied.
"Too bad." he replied and he pulled his manhood out of her pussy as it started to pump sticky creamy white goo in a great arc across her belly. His manhood shrank as the last globs spattered but he had begun to smear the cum around her between her breasts, up to her neck.
He worked the cum around like sunblock, smearing her breasts and belly before bringing his hand to her mouth for her to lick, it tasted strangely bland.
"Do you feel like a dirty slut now?" he asked.
She shook her head, "Just dirty, slimy, you know?"
"Not like a slut?" he asked, "If I call Roger in you won't lie back and let him do what he wants?"
She shook her head, "Sorry." she said, "It's like, I know you."
"And you lied so I don't know you." he replied. "So wipe your face and get dressed."
"I'm all slimy!" she complained.
"Do you want a shower?"
"Please!" she said.
"Then shower it is." he agreed and climbed from the bed and after he carefully replaced the door knob he opened the door.
"It's not how I imagined." she said as he opened the shower cubicle door for her, and turned the water on, it was a tight fit and instead of getting clean he pressed against her smearing the goo all over his muscled chest as he held her in his arms seemingly for an eternity, she felt his manhood rise, from supine repose between his legs to erection trapped below her crotch, "We'll be late!" he cautioned.
"We'll order a Pizza, or I'll cook if you have anything in," she promised she tried to rise up to allow him to penetrate her once more but he stooped slightly and as she guided him so he slid up inside her once more.
"My real name's Simon," he confessed.
"Susan, Susan Richards," she said "Pleased to." she broke off the automatic response, as with
"I'll pull out if you say." he promised.
"Not unless I say." she replied as she gripped him. the warm water from the shower head squirting between them he filled her sex as never before, it seemed pointless to continue.
"Not a Lord then?" she challenged
"Oh gosh no!" he replied.
"You lied too then." she said.
"I suppose so, but it was worth it." he replied.
"yes Ohhh."
"Hush, enjoy." he advised and took her head in his hands and kissed her face, "you're very kissable."
She floated on a sea of pleasure, as the warm urgent flow cascaded inside her, and as it subsided they clung to each other for support, before completing their showering.
He slipped away, she followed at a distance, and returned to the bedroom, there was a knee length black dress, with a white fake fur wrap, in the wardrobe, and a sensible bra from M&S and sensible panties and black hold up stockings and sensible yet stylish black shoes, and when she looked in the mirror as she dressed, she knew he had known all along that she would not submit.
He returned, dressed in his smartly creased black trousers with his white shirt unbuttoned, "These might set it off," he suggested handing her a jewellery box.
She opened it tentatively, a double string of pearls, and pearl ear rings, she sighed with relief, she almost expected an engagement ring. "Thanks, but this is getting seriously weird." she announced.
"Don't worry" he said, "We need to be going in ten minutes," he announced as stepped from the room.
"Simon!" she demanded.
He peered round the door frame, "Some submissive," he announced and grinned.
She made her way steadily down the stairs, unsure of what was to happen, and there he was, waiting, dressed immaculately, black shoes highly polished, trouser creases like knife edges, shirt immaculately pressed, the tie and Jacket immaculate .
"Ah Susan, you look divine." she smiled, despite herself because she knew he was telling the simple truth, "Will you drive?"
"What!" she said.
"Range Rover, automatic, very straight forward." he suggested.
"Oh no." she said,
"Yes," he said, "designated driver."
It was there, big black menacing, it had been there when she went in, the big four wheel drive, he pushed the button on the key fob unlocking the door and opened the drivers door for her, she climbed in, it was very different to her little Nissan.
"We'll be late." he suggested.
"Is it insured?" she asked?
"Yes, your own policy covers you as well as mine now drive." he ordered as he clipped the seat belt on and tried to appear calm and confident.
She surprised herself, as she threaded the traffic and eventually she parked as instructed in a car park in town. "See, I'm pushing your limits, well done." he praised her, but it was no carvery he took her to a dingy back door to anonymous block of shops or offices, it opened onto a poorly lit corridor with peeling paintwork, she looked closer and decided it was in fact peeling wall paper, and then he ordered her to turn left and climb the stairs.
Her heart pounded, "It's not a carvery is it?" she said.
"No, it's a test," he admitted, "what do you want?" he asked, "Sex, go home, or trust me."
"What?" she said as she kept walking.
"I gave you a choice." he said.
"Is it bad?" she asked.
"It's something you need to do if we are to have a future." he told her.
"Yes, then I'll do it." she agreed, but she shivered, was this some dark bondage club, or a simple den where she was to be stripped and raped, her heart pounded but with dread, she felt an icy pit in her stomach where she had always dreamed she would feel a warm wet glow of anticipation.
The upper corridor was painted green, the low energy light bulbs glowed feebly as they passed locked doors and anonymous offices or apartments and then he spoke. "it's this one."
He opened the green door, there were men waiting, sitting around on worn easy chairs, three men, sitting round a coffee table with a pile of worn glossy magazines, in their shirt sleeves, open neck shirts. She stopped dead. Oh god, he's going to make me have sex with them, she imagined.
"No, I can't" she said.
"Oh sorry Mr Hart," a man said as he stood up, "I."
"Just taking a short cut John, this is Sue," he said
"Oh, pleased to meet you miss." he said
"John, Mike and Janeck, britains finest." he said, "Come along." he added as he opened the far door and guided her through.
The door led to a corridor poorly lit with a red glow, he led her down it towards muted sounds of jollity, another door, she opened it and found doors marked Gentlemen and Ladies, "Are you all right?" he asked, "Wash your hands, I'll see you in a moment."
She did as he said, her heart thumping, the fittings were opulent, buttoned leather, expensive wallpaper, deep pile carpets all in a Ladies Lavatory, her feelings of dread increased, and she actually shook as she returned to the corridor.
"It's your big test now," he whispered, "Are you ready?"
She nodded, and he followed closely as she opened the door to where she knew people were waiting.
The restaurant was packed, crowded, all the tables taken, she stopped in confusion, the head waiter saw them and hurried across, "Ah Mr Hart-Jarvis, your party are seated sir, please they are here, table fourteen as requested."
She followed the waiter allowed him to move her chair out and before she could sit down he was introducing the smart lady and gentleman as they sat quietly waiting, "Susan, this is Marjorie, my mother and Mr John Wilson."
"My Lover," Marjorie joked, "So you are the mysterious pornographer!"
Susan sat down in shock, her face going alternately white and then red with embarrassment,
"Given us enormous pleasure following your stories," Marjorie continued.
"Enormous," John agreed.
"But come let's order." Marjorie suggested "I'm hungry."
The head waiter hovered, took the order and returned with a young waitress and four bowls of soup with the alacrity of a fast food joint.
"So do you write fromm experience or." Marjorie asked.
"I think it's imagination Mother," Simon answered for her, "I think it's all in the mind."
"You don't actually have a foursome then?" Marjorie suggested
"Oh no." Susan answered, "I just imagine everything, I haven't actually had a boyfriend since, I started emailing Simon." Susan admitted.
"He's screwed every waitress in here," Marjorie explained reasonably, "One at a time."
Simon blushed, "I have needs" he explained.
"What do you do?" Marjorie asked.
"Teacher, English, Secondary school." she replied cryptically.
"Ah hence the secrecy, the nom de plume." Marjorie added.
Susan nodded,
"The duck is superb, Simon" John suggested changing the subject, "Tell me Susan, do you play piano or sing."
"Guitar and sing a bit. backing vocals Alto that sort of thing." she replied.
"Good, Marjorie has a wonderful Mezzo Soprano," John suggested,"and Simon is an acceptable Baritone so good, that bodes well for Christmas."
Susan looked across at Simon and he took her hand and squeezed it gently, and smiled.
Susan wished she could have a glass of wine, but as Simon had said she was designated driver, and almost too soon they were finishing with coffee and a mint chocolate.
Susan wondered about paying for her share of the meal, and was confused when they all stood up together, "We'll run you home Mother," Simon offered.
"Simon, what about the check?" Susan asked in panic.
John laughed, "It's his bloody restaurant my dear, didn't he say?"
The front entrance was much more impressive than the rear, red lamps under a green canopy, and steps down to the wide street, she recognised the arcade opposite and the theatre just a few doors away and suddenly the Range Rover appeared, driven by one of the waiters she saw earlier, except now he wore jacket and tie, and he opened the drivers door for her.
"Its Amadaeus Gardens, 24, I've put it in the sat nav." Simon suggested. as he climbed in the back seat, leaving Marjorie to sit in the front.
Susan drove nervously, unused to the automatic gear shift, and as she drove she wondered just what they had in mind for her, they had read her works, everything she had sent Simon, probably, as well as the finished stories which had appeared on line, all the stories of bondage, whippings, sadistic masters submissive sluts unable to achieve climax without being chained or tied up, Oh god, she thought, perhaps they expected to tie her up, perhaps she was to be a sex slave to the entire family.
"Turn Left" The sat-nav ordered and so soon they were stopping outside Marjorie's spacious suburban villa.
"We won't come in," Stephen said to Susan's surprise as he held the door open for Marjorie and then he was sitting beside Susan.
"Anyone you should tell about your change of plan." Simon suggested, and when she shook her head he said "The back seats fold down," he suggested.
Susan never suspected Simon was testing her as she drove, he let her drive, and to his surprise she found her way back to his house easily.
She locked the car and handed him the key, and as she walked up to the door he surprised her by lifting her off the ground and carrying her through the doorway, he set her down and locked and bolted the door, and suggested "Wash your hands."
He was waiting for her as she left the bathroom, he was wearing a red bathrobe which reached to his knee and he carried a whip, a riding crop as horse riders called them. She walked past into the bedroom and started to undress, laying her dress on the bed which he quickly picked up and placed on a coat hanger and the as she removed her stockings and shoes, then her panties and bra and finally she went to remove her jewellery.
"Keep the choker and Jewels" he said firmly and she climbed onto the bed, "Face down." he suggested and he quickly attached the waiting handcuffs to her wrists, "Move your knees up a bit," he ordered and as she knelt he pulled her ankles outward at an awkward angle and secured them with the other handcuffs.
"Are you ready," he asked acutely aware of the way his erection was propping his bathrobe out like a tent pole.
She nodded.
"Say Stop, if it's unbearable," he advised and then he took the riding crop and hit her across the left buttock, "Thwack!" leaving a red mark staining the smooth pristine pale pink complexion of her bottom.
She stifled her cry, she needed to prove to him that she could be what he needed her to be.
He hit her across the right buttock, "Thwack! again a red stain marred her perfect bottom,
He saw she was crying, "Say stop if it hurts!" he ordered.
"I can bear it if it's what you want." she sobbed.
"It doesn't seem to be," he said as he felt his erection ebbing away. "I'll get some lotion."
He gently rubbed the lotion into her backside, her bottom was too boney to look good with red stripes across it and her breasts too small and she was too tall and thin and willowy and elegant and beautiful and lovely to be chained up and beaten, he decided.
He tried to find the eroticism but her tears spoiled it, he even tried to slide under her so she could sink down on him but it didn't work, so he left her alone on the bed and turned out the light and closed the door.
He sat on his own soft king size bed, thinking, and then he turned the radiator thermostat down and tried to sleep.
He woke, the clock said three ten, he shivered, and remembered, perhaps she could be his bed warmer, so he went to find her.
She lay awkwardly but slept easily, contentedly perhaps, he was reluctant to wake her but she had come here to do his bidding. She woke as he released the final handcuff, he helped her remove the Choker and pearls and then said "I'm cold, come warm me up."
She yawned so he lifted her and carried her to his bed where he covered her with the duvet and climbed in beside her, she faced away from him and he put his arms round her, her breasts fell easily to hand and he smiled as her nipples stiffened at his touch, and her sex seemed such a nice place to put his fingers, a lovely warm, soft wet place.
He rolled onto his back.
"Don't stop," she pleaded, "Make love to me, please."
"It's love now is it?" he asked, but she had grown bold, climbing over him until she could sink down on his straining manhood for a brief moment before he rolled her on to her back to crush her pert breasts against his chest as she wrapped her long elegant legs around him.
"Simon" she asked as he started to pleasure he with long lazy strokes, "Is there anywhere to park my car if I move in,"
"Double garage around the back, now shut up." he said, and added, "We'll fetch your things tomorrow, "
"Simon," she said, "You will help me write my stories, won't you, help me experience everything?"
"Perhaps," he agreed, "But I think I want to keep you all to myself!"
Simon Hart-Jarvis
"My real name's Simon," he confessed.
"Susan, Susan Richards," s
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