Darkest Fantasies (21 page)

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.

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
room 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.

He lay there
and contemplated his impressive cock, proudly rampant through the
bubbles, and hoped that Tanya was as submissive as she was making
out. It would be nice to have it sucked by a connoisseur. However,
he was a bit confused by Tanya. He had the strangest feeling that
in spite of her submissive role, she was going to pull his strings
from beginning to end; a contradiction, but one he could live with
if she was everything she was presently promising to be.

Subconsciously
he was listening to the shower in the next room, and imagining her
slick with soap and water, her dark hair plastered down her back,
her fingers caressing her dark skin as she cleaned herself
everywhere.

He wondered
why she hadn't wanted him to do the cleaning bit. Yes, he would
have liked that.

Eventually the
shower stopped, and he craned his neck to get a first exciting
glimpse of her flesh as she passed the door, but was disappointed
to see a flash of ankle-length dressing gown which deflated his
dew-speckled images. There was something so homely about a dressing
gown that his cock drooped in disappointment. Kevin's lust
dissipated instantly, and he sank further into the water, simply
tired. What the hell was he here for? He might as well have gone
home and let Esther massage his shoulders, give her a quick bonk in
the dark and allow himself to succumb to the call of heavy sleep.
The more he thought about it, the more the warm water lulled him
into apathy. Hell, he couldn't be bothered to play games. Was there
any way he could just cry off; climb out - when he'd summoned up
the energy - and go home? He sighed, knowing it just wasn't an
option; the poor girl would be really disappointed in him if he
didn't make an effort. Besides, what could that do to his
reputation? It just didn't bear thinking about.

In the bedroom
he heard her moving around, then scented the pungent smell of a new
jostick and heard the low chant of something discordant and foreign
playing subtly in the background.

He was
mentally steeling himself for the mammoth effort when there was
movement behind him. His eyes opened, then widened in shock. He
straightened slightly, shooting a tidal wave of bubbles onto the
green carpet. For Tanya was neither in a dressing gown, nor naked
and blatantly ready for sex. Instead, she was clothed head to toe
in red silk heavily embroidered with exotic flowers and birds of
paradise. Her long nails were painted, her wrists and ankles heavy
with ornament, and her face was covered with a veil. Nothing of her
body was visible, save an inch of belly complete with a navel
ornament. Her hands and feet were heavy with gold jewellery, and
her vivid green eyes rimmed with kohl.

As his amazed
glance travelled up and down her body, she glided in, knelt in a
fluid movement, and pressed her hands together in supplication
before sinking back onto her heels to wait. Kevin thought himself
fairly experienced in the art of eroticism, but nothing had
prepared him for the exquisite anticipation of having the flesh
withheld. He sat up slowly, never taking his eyes from her, and as
his imagination pictured her oiled skin beneath the silk, the
smooth curves of her full breast, tiredness fled. His eyes dwelled
on the small swell of her middle, the indent of her belly-button,
and the crease between her legs which was obscured by swathes of
fine fabric.

At that moment
he felt as superior as a male could ever feel. He was of the
dominant species. He was lord and master to this woman, this
servant, this whore, and he would use her as he saw fit. In that
instant their roles were as clearly defined as if written in stone.
No words were necessary.

He stared for
a long time, savouring this new sensation. It was good. It had
nothing to do with holding down a wriggling female form, demanding,
taking what he wanted. It had far more to do with the evolution of
species, that of natural female submission to his obvious male
superiority.

He became
suffused with a gloriously warm feeling of benevolence. Despite his
earlier misgivings, he would allow this woman to feel the strength
of his body, to experience the exquisite joys of his
lovemaking.