Twenty Tones of Red (27 page)

Now that she knew each of the five positions
he started to drill her. He shouted out a number and she had to move into the correct posture within seconds. He picked her up on every little detail; recording a fault if she was slightly slow or failed to arch her back or spread her legs as wide as she could. He kept a mental tally of her tiny mistakes and assured her that she would receive punishment for all transgressions in due course.

The
training became a work out. He kept her moving from one position to another at such a pace that she soon became breathless and broke into a sweat. On seeing her struggle he only increased the speed of his instructions, promising even more severe punishments if she failed to keep pace. Finally he let her rest in the worship position and then gave her the command to crawl slowly forward until she found the end of the bed. Intrigued she did so and soon had her finger tips pressed against the mahogany frame. He then ordered her to lift herself up and slip under the end of the duvet until she found his feet.

She was to learn the art of foot worship. He told her to begin with long doglike licks and she obeyed, running her tongue from his heel all the way up to the tips of his toes. He hadn’t showered since the morning and there was a faint sweaty aroma and a taste of salt on the rough skin of his soles. It was a total turn on. She loved foot worship and everything about it. There were a host of powerful pheromones involved and some deep part of her responded to the total submissiveness of the gesture. He was lying back comfortable on his pillows while she was lapping like an animal at his feet.

He made it into so
mething of an art form though. Just licking wasn’t enough, she had to work in long strokes, moving the full length of his foot and working quickly with no time to rest or catch her breath. This was what made it slavery.  It wasn’t the slow sensual pleasuring of a lover. This was the obedient worship of a working sex object. She lapped and lapped until her jaw was beginning to ache and then he moved her on to the next stage.

Now she was to lick systematically between each of his toes and he made sure she worked quickly and efficient
ly. She did the best she could, taking each of his feet in her hands and licking for all she was worth. Finally he made her suck each of his toes one by one. She had to spend a full two minutes with each toe in her mouth and he insisted that she count slowly inside in her head and warned her that he would check her accuracy. She worked hard, completing the task to the best of her ability and enjoying the authority of his commands. Holding his big toe in her mouth while she cleaned it with her tongue was deliciously humiliating. It reminded her of pleasuring a man’s cock with her mouth and she knew that this was what she was really yearning for. She wanted to taste his prick deep in her throat and hoped that this was soon to come.

His next command
took her closer to her desire. When she’d finished a thorough worship of his feet he made her crawl further up the bed until her head was tight between his legs. She was now to begin the worship of his balls. He instructed her to lick eagerly at his scrotum as she had done with the soles of his feet. She had to work in rapid strokes and was not to rest. Any break in form would be noted and punished severely.

Still blindfolded it took her a little while to find
his ball sack with only her mouth but he insisted that she kept her hands by her side. Once she’d found him she began to lick. She worked diligently and systematically and soon her spit covered him and saliva was dribbling back onto her face and chin. After the licking came the sucking. She had to take both his balls in her mouth and suck gently until told to stop. She did so but the position was difficult to hold. She had to roll onto her side and tilt her head a little to avoid straining her neck but he didn’t punish her for this and simply left her there sucking for many long minutes. Of course he was working up to something and she respected his patients and diligence.

S
he was allowed to remove his balls from her mouth but was immediately commanded to begin to lick his cock. This was to be done to his very specific instructions. She was to work slowly, moving her tongue from the very base all the way up to the tip in a single slow act of worship. She began immediately and was thrilled to feel how hard he was and to finally get a taste of the slick salty fluid that was oozing from his tip.

Using strict short commands he kept her licking like an animal for many long minutes then ordered her to take as much of him as she could in her mouth and hold him th
ere. She obeyed, allowing the full hardness to penetrate almost to her throat. It felt like a reward for all the training she’d been through and it was certainly no punishment to have him inside her. She loved to feel the taste of him and let her tongue rub around his pulsing veins.

He perhaps felt that she’
d been teased enough or maybe his own arousal was beyond his control but he stopped giving verbal orders and started to manoeuvre her. Leaning forward he pulled her even closer and lifted one of her hands onto the base of his cock. He encouraged her to pump him while she licked and sucked then his hands went to her head and gripped her hair. She could hear from his deep breathing that he was close to coming and it was then that he gave his final command.

“Slave
, you will swallow master’s cum. You will consume every drop and then suck and lick him until he is perfectly clean. Understood?” She mumbled her consent and he started to jerk and groan. The next thing she knew her mouth and throat flooded with pulses of his semen and she swallowed it readily and eagerly. When the last spurt had faded away she dutifully and attentively licked and sucked the full length of him until he was clean. He then pulled her up onto his chest, kissed her forehead tenderly and wrapped his strong arms around her. His voice was deep and sleepy. “Well done slave. That was your first night’s training. Remember the positions, remember how to worship and remember to lick me clean. We will be practising that every day from now on.” She murmured her thanks and stayed with her cheek on his broad chest until he drifted off to sleep. She needed to wash and brush her teeth but it wasn’t long before she was back at his side and snuggled tight to his deliciously warm body. She was now his slave and the thought of more training brought a warm and satisfied glow to her heart.

The kinky side of their lives together had definitely started. Her training continued in earnest and she loved every minute of it; using every opportunity she could to subtly encourage him and ensure that they spent as much time as possible alone together. This led to the second big change in their relationship. They were in love, and because she was living in a small room in her brother’s house and he lived alone in a seven bedroom mansion it didn’t take long for the topic of moving in together to come up. Initially they were both a little wary. She knew she’d been too quick to give up her independence and live with David and James also confessed that he’d lost too much of his personal space in his last relationship. She was pleased to hear that this was in his previous flat and he’d never shared the Chiswick house with anyone else. In the end they trusted their hearts. She had so many clothes and toiletries in his bedroom that she was effectively living there anyway and all they needed to do was formalise the situation.

Gentleman and tradition
alist that he was, he took her out for a fantastic dinner then very cautiously and politely asked her if she would consider sharing his house with him. She told him that she would have to think about it long and hard then took a mouthful of chocolate mousse and agreed. The next day she bought a selection of fabulous wines for Sean and Cathy to thank them then swept the remainder of her things into a couple of cases and said goodbye to her life in Surbiton. She was now a resident of Chiswick and took some time to take stock of her new life.

Although she and James slept together in his bedroom the house was so
huge that they both thought she might as well have a room of her own. She chose the room opposite his that overlooked the front garden and a stretch of Common and unpacked her things into its pristine lavender-scented drawers. She rarely slept there but it was a place where she could dress or use the bathroom in privacy and it gave the possibility of reading or watching TV late at night on the days that James had crashed out early and had to get up again before dawn.

The first few times she was alone in the grand mansion she walked around touching things as if she were in a dream. No one she knew lived in a proper house in London. Everybody of her age lived in flats in converted buildings. It was simply part of life to be able to hear the front door slamming as the other occupants came and went. She was used to lying awake listening to minicabs and ambulances whizzing up and down the street at all hours and hearing the flushing of toilets in the other part of the building. She had thought that constant noise from other people was just part of life in the city. Not here. James had chosen the huge master bedroom overlooking the walled garden at the back of the house because it was away from the road and he found it calming because it was so quiet. In truth, as she wandered around the big mansion on her own, she discovered that the whole place was quiet. All the rooms were triple glazed and as the house was set back from the road it was difficult to hear anything but a very distant hum from the outside world. Even what James described as the ‘noisy’ front of the building was nothing like what she’d experienced in her old flat in Queen’s Park or even in her offices in Camden.

If she stood in her new bedroom looking out of one of
its three enormous windows she had a choice of pleasant views. First there was the garden just below her. It wasn’t huge, you could have perhaps squeezed a tennis court into it, but it had a well-kept lawn that was edged with a row of small shrubs and a mature eucalyptus tree that gave off a beautiful menthol aroma if you picked one of the fallen leaves and crushed it in your hand. James himself had no time for its care which was left to a charming elderly Irishman called Patrick. He came every Monday and took to her like a long lost cousin as soon as he heard her name and learnt of her distant Irish heritage.

Just beyond that and across
the road there was the huge green playing field where she could watch young mums pushing their babies around the playground and see little boys and girls kicking balls and throwing Frisbees on the grass. Behind the park there was a stretch of underground line, except here it was not actually under the ground. The train ran along a raised track and was far enough away not to give off any noise or vibration. It was the best kind of city view, just a distant reminder that life was going on busily around her but without any of the hassle. To gain peace and solitude all she had to do was swing the elegant wooden shutters closed and she was in total tranquillity. It was a level of luxury beyond anything that she thought she would ever achieve and sharing it with the man of her dreams seemed almost too good to be true. Day by day and bit by bit she did slowly start to see the rooms and objects around her as her own. Once she’d become accustomed to the house and its garden the next thing she fell in love with were the surroundings.

The
nearest tube station was Turnham Green and even the name always made her smile. It reminded her of an anecdote she’d heard when she’d first moved to London and every time she saw the words written on a sign the joke came back to her.

A man goes to a fancy dress party where the them
e is London Underground stops. He can’t think of any way of dressing up as a tube station and gets more and more desperate for ideas as the date approaches. In the end he goes in just his underpants with an overcoat on top. On the way to the party he stops at a corner shop and buys a single huge cucumber and sticks it into his pants. When he arrives at the venue he hands over his coat and struts around in his underwear with the absolutely huge bulge showing prominently underneath. When a bemused party-goer asks him which station he’s come as he thrusts out his crotch then points to all the jealous-looking men and winks. ‘Turn ‘em green baby. Turn ‘em green.’

The very f
irst stretch of road she came to when she left the house was a short terrace of delightful little shops and cafes. There was a classy looking hair salon and although she had a great guy who did a well-priced shampoo and cut in Queen’s Park she decided to give it a try. It was a fabulous success. The owner was a charming young Polish woman called Magda who did a brilliant job and left Siobhan feeling extremely pleased. She started to go back just for quick blow dries and was always welcome like a lost friend.

As all
good hairdressers did they quickly got to know her and never stopped fussing over the beauty of her long red hair. Every time she went in Magda and her assistants would come and stroke her fringe and discuss the gorgeousness of her long ginger locks. It was extremely gratifying and she knew she’d never tire of it. As somebody with red hair she had inevitably been teased at school and even occasionally been the butt of jokes at University. To be recognised as special and beautiful in an unusual way was gratifying. Besides, she had never felt so attractive. She knew she was what doctors and psychologists would describe as ‘flourishing’. Being deeply and profoundly in love had huge health benefits as did the intense nature of her sex life and her orgasms. It was also helped by her diet and intense exercise regime. Her hair was always glossy and her skin had a constant glow to it. Sometimes she felt so ridiculously full of vitality when she’d finished brushing her hair she felt like a prize pooch in a dog food advert; she had the healthy teeth and glowing coat to prove it.

The delights didn’
t end in the immediate vicinity. On any given day she could walk up the terrace and take her pick from the range of charming boutiques, restaurants and delicatessens. The people were mostly polite, friendly and well-dressed. If anything they were a little conservative for her tastes but she could live with that. It felt more ‘grown up’ and very different from the trendy ‘youth’ vibe of Camden. But then maybe she had grown out of all that. The streets around her office seemed to be permanently full of Japanese punks and Italian Goths and sometimes Japanese Goths and Italian punks and the sense of walking in a freak show had become tiring.

Her new life was different;
calmer, much easier and more indulgent. Occasionally she would stop for a cappuccino in the chocolate shop because nestling on the edge of the saucer and rapidly melting from the heat of the beverage was always a small but freshly made truffle. She would sit on a stool in the window looking out at the well-dressed well-to-do passersby and delight at the quality of the sensual experiences in her life. She had sexual bliss, a very good local hairdressers and handmade chocolates on tap, what else did a girl need?

Things were perfect, and yet t
here were a couple of niggles. Because she was reflective person there were always little thoughts lurking in the background and when she was lying waiting to go to sleep or racking up the miles on the exercise bike she allowed her mind to drift into the little corners where her doubts were lingering. She knew James loved her. That was something that she could just feel inside. She could see it in his eyes, in his tone of voice and the way his face lit up when he saw her. Her concern was about during the day. When he was at his meetings or rehearsing to shoot a pop video was he also giving the same attention to some of the sexy young pop stars and dancers?

She got the answer to her question in a totally unexpected way during one of their rare night
s out. Generally they didn’t tend to stay out late together. James would often pop in to the pub in Camden where she and her workmates would go after work but they rarely stayed long and usually left after a single drink to either go home or go and get something to eat. Parties were similar. James would always agree to go but if he had a choice he normally preferred to leave after a couple of hours.

She knew there were at least a couple of good reasons for this. Firstly
, as he didn’t drink or do any kind of substances at all she knew it must be difficult to be around people who were off their faces. Secondly, if he was working he normally had very early starts. Even if he wasn’t he liked to get up soon after dawn and go for his run. This meant that at about eleven each night he was starting to crash out. Thirdly he had explained quiet patiently and subtly to her that he felt all partied out. His wild phase was behind him and as he’d done a good fifteen years of non-stop drug and alcohol abuse she understood his point.

This night was different.
James had an old friend who was opening a bar and he had suggested that she invite a big crowd from work to come along and help make the first night a success. All the drink was free and as the place was achingly hip and trendy so she had no problems at all convincing the cool crowd from work to come down. The place was called the FIIK bar and ever since she’d seen invitations it had been bugging her that she couldn’t figure out what the initials stood for. As she and James were walking down the tiny back alley that lead to the bar’s subterranean entrance she asked him. “So what does this FIIK mean anyway?”

“Fucked if I know,” h
e replied dismissively and she felt an instant stab of anger. Okay he might not know but he could still be a little bit more pleasant about it. She was turning to him to give him a real scolding when the meaning of his words sank in and she smiled. “Oh!” She waited for him to draw level with her and slipped her arm around him. “I was thinking you were being rude but then I got it. F.I.I.K.”

He nodded. “Yeah. That
’s how it got the name. Dunc had bought the place and was doing it up when someone asked him what it was called. That was his reply and I think it was one of the builders who put into the initials and suggested he use it.

The bar was in
Shoreditch; currently the most achingly trendy part of London but a place that Siobhan remained unconvinced by. There were plenty of nice little bars but a lot of the people seemed a bit fake and a bit too pleased with themselves for being on the ‘cutting edge’. The other problem she had with the area was that most of it was even dirtier and smellier than Camden and that was really saying something. The bar was a good concept though. Small and intimate with a fantastic array of drinks and cocktails that all had intriguing novelty features. One came with smoke rising from it and you could even order a range of cocktails that came in a rack of test tubes. It was quirky and well decorated and even had a small square dance area with coloured floor lights that lit up and changed to the music with more than a hint of seventy’s retro kitsch.

They were served by a girl who was almost entirely covered in tattoos and piercings and although she was perfectly charming Siobhan found herself suspicious of why she was trying so hard to look wild. In her experience the more people tried to make themselves appear alternative the tamer and more normal their teenage life had been. She herself looked like a model of innocent elegance yet had a sex life that would make many women blush. She was happy to keep her wild side private and to look conventional to the outside world. She suspected that some people did it the other way round.

When they’d had a
few drinks and talked to the various groups of friends that were circulating around them the music suddenly got louder and more interesting. She grabbed James and pulled him on to the dance floor. He followed her without a fuss and she was reminded that it was one of the things she really liked about him. David had never danced and always made her feel bad about asking. James did okay. He’d evidently really enjoyed it when he’d been younger but the music he’d been into was very different from the pounding modern dance tunes that were booming through the bar. He preferred Soul and Motown and most of his moves had been honed to very different rhythms. He moved well though and they were soon spinning and gyrating to the heavy beat. Perhaps it was the various cocktails hitting her bloodstream or the expertise of the DJ but each track seemed to get better and better and she found herself getting more and more carried away. Plenty of others had joined them on the dance floor and she was soon amongst groups of her friends all trying to outdo each other with their slick dancing and funky moves.