by KERRY BARNES
‘But, Dad,’ she called after him, ‘what if I don’t want to go?’
He stopped in his tracks and she could see his head bow. ‘Lucy, what other choices in life do you have, eh? He wants to take you out. If ya don’t go, then God knows where you’ll end up!’
Well, at least that’s what she thought she heard.
She watched him walk away, not even turning to face her. At that moment, she despised him. Why couldn’t he have been like other fathers, fighting off any potential suitors, instead of making her sell her body and soul to the highest bidder? The truth of it was, she didn’t really mind going out with Carl; it was just the fact she didn’t have a choice that hurt her the most.
She did as she was told and got herself ready. Little did she know that this was no ordinary date, a nice drink or two in a wine bar or a nightclub perhaps. This ended up being one crazy affair. But, looking back, it had been an incredible evening all the same – a steep learning curve, definitely, which showed beyond any doubt that she possessed skills in the art of sex that very few women could emulate.
In her expensive clothes and shoes too high to walk properly in, Lucy was waiting nervously in the living room when Carl arrived. She followed him outside and he held the door open to his top-of-the-range Mercedes, allowing her to awkwardly clamber inside and make herself comfortable in the front seat. Excited to the point she could hardly breathe, goose bumps covered her skin. Is this what it’s like to be a grown-up? she thought.
Carl was, as ever, smartly dressed and the sweet-and-sour aroma of his aftershave filled the car’s interior. She remembered the evening air being warm for October and felt slightly sticky in her woollen dress and long black leather coat; but still, she didn’t mind because she knew she looked damned good. The initial part of the drive was spent in silence, Lucy being too afraid to say the wrong thing and put him off taking her out to this special place that she assumed he’d planned. However, when they parked in a lay-by, in a leafy road outside of town, opposite the entrance to a park, she looked at him, her eyes filled with disappointment. Was he just like the teenagers, wanting a quick grope or shag in the bushes? ‘Where are we? I thought you were taking me out?’
He chuckled like a kid, wiping the stern expression away. ‘Right, my little sugarplum, how do you like your new rig-outs and watch? Makes ya feel classy, eh?’ He raised his eyebrow. ‘And it’s my guess, you would love to live your life enjoying the finer things, not running around getting into pointless trouble, with fuck-all money and being pecked at by kids with acne, right?’
Lucy nervously nodded, fearing what he had in mind and thinking: What the hell have I let myself in for?
‘This is what’s gonna happen.’ He pointed to a private drive. ‘That, there, is the home of a very well-respected banker, and you, my girl, are going to knock at the door, where he will be expecting you.’
‘What! No way! I know what you want me to do, but I’m not a prostitute.’ She tried to get out, but the car’s child safety locks were on.
Shaking his head, he chuckled again. ‘No, of course not. You, my gal, are gonna make a shedload of money without even sucking his dick. How about that?’
Lucy chewed over the idea. There had to be a catch somewhere, but the excitement on his face was infectious, and so her initial fear receded. Money talked, in her world.
Slowly, she nodded. ‘How much, then?’
Carl had her eating out of the palm of his hand. ‘Two hundred smackeroonies.’
The excitement level shot up, but as calmly as she could muster, she held it in. ‘Two fifty and you have a deal.’ She was pushing her luck, but so what. Unbeknown to her, though, Carl would easily have gone to five hundred, if she’d played hardball.
After gently planting his lips on hers, he pulled away. ‘You are my best girl, you know that? Me and you will go a long way. I like you, Lucy. You are more like me than you could possibly imagine, so here’s what you have to do.’
She nodded, listening carefully.
‘You knock at the door. A banker, Frederick Palmer, will answer. I want you to go in. You’ll tell him your name is Sapphire and he will offer you a drink. Take it.’ He watched her eyes, ensuring she was taking in every last detail. ‘Now, he thinks you are a prostitute, right, but here’s the important bit. He likes bondage. His speciality is to be tied up and gently whipped. You must flirt until the man is gagging for it. You have to take control because that’s what he wants, so make him sit on a chair naked, parade up and down in front of him, and then tell him he’s been a bad, bad boy. Got it?’
Lucy gasped and frowned. This couldn’t be happening, surely? Paradoxically, she felt her face flush despite a chill down her spine, as she tried to assimilate the implications of what Carl was telling her. ‘You what!’ She screamed at him so loudly that an old geezer, walking past with his dog, turned back to the Mercedes in surprise. ‘This is bleedin’ mental, Carl.’
Carl laughed. ‘Keep your voice down. Now, listen, darling, there are many men, of all shapes and sizes, who take great pleasure from being treated like a slave. It’s the world of the dominatrix.’ He dangled a pair of handcuffs in front of her face. ‘Put these in your pocket.’ Then, he pulled a short horsewhip from the side of his seat. ‘This is what he loves, but don’t beat the shit out of him. Make him take his clothes off, tell him not to move whilst he does so, then handcuff him. You blindfold him, ’cos he likes that too, and then you open the front door.’
‘What if he doesn’t like me?’
Carl rolled his eyes. ‘Firstly, darlin’, this ain’t no first date with a man you met on eHarmony, and secondly, when he sees you, babe, he’s goin’ to have an erection of a lifetime, trust me on that. He just wants to be treated like a slave. Anyway, don’t worry about that – you just make sure the cuffs are on and the doors are open. I’ll sort out the rest.’ He looked at her black dress. ‘Have you got decent underwear on?’
She bit her lip and nodded. This evening was turning out to be a right scary affair, and she hadn’t even got to the perv’s front door yet. ‘Yeah, but you said—’
‘Lucy, you don’t have to even let him touch you, but he will be more comfortable, if he sees you strutting about in ya sexy briefs before you put the blindfold on, yeah? Stands to reason. Who wouldn’t be totally besotted with a beautiful body like yours. The man will be so turned on, he will do anything you say.’ Her confidence went up a notch and continued to climb when he said, ‘I wouldn’t let a man touch you, my darling. You’re my bit of gold dust, and I will look after you.’
She nodded, feeling a little uneasy, but she was up for it, and besides two hundred and fifty pounds was a fortune to her at seventeen. Along with the promise that she was his, and he would protect her, she was on cloud nine.
Frederick and Genevieve Palmer lived in a relatively secluded house on the outskirts of Brockwell Park. Married at forty, with no children, it had been a marriage of convenience, if the truth be known, at least as far as Frederick was concerned. Genevieve held all the cards in this relationship. It was she who had massaged her daddy’s ego as chairman of a merchant bank in the city, enabling her husband to take up a senior role there. Her ambitions steered more towards ensuring that the scallywags in society were given short shrift when it came to sentencing. As a justice of the peace, she had carte blanche, and she wasn’t afraid to wield the big stick, which she did – mercilessly.
Whilst she might see herself as an extraordinary woman, she was boring, loud, and manly – in looks that is. Even her closest bridge-playing acquaintances would struggle to come up with anything nice to say about her, although to her face they pretended to like her because she had connections that were useful to their husbands.
Poor Frederick. He had married into money, but his pecker – of which he was justly proud because he was well hung – received very little attention from his wife. Sex to Genevieve was a dirty word. She couldn’t fathom why couples needed children at all, never mind the scum who chose to
have lots of them because in her eyes they were simply breeding to steal money from the state in benefits.
It was, therefore, little wonder that her bedroom door was locked at night to her long-suffering husband. It had been that way almost from the get-go. But she could be flexible. Frederick was allowed into her bedroom, and ergo her bed, on just one day in the year: on his birthday.
So, in Frederick’s eyes it was entirely understandable why he had his sexual foibles. Not only was he starved of sex generally in his home life, but he craved sexual adventure, and in his opinion, nothing could be more exciting than being the object of domination from the opposite sex.
Cautiously and somewhat curiously, Lucy wandered up the long drive to the large detached house, her high heels killing her. Bushes and trees lined the perimeter and then the sensor lights came on, making her jump. She stopped for a second, and in her peripheral vision, she saw a man. Her eyes tried to focus, and she was at the point of turning around to beat it back to the Mercedes, when the man, hidden in the bushes, whispered harshly, ‘Lucy, it’s me. Go on, girl, go and knock at the door.’
She squinted, trying to get a clearer view of the man, and then she recognised him as Paul Shelter, one of Carl’s men. She wondered what they were up to, but her mind was on this crazy job she’d been told to do and the money deal; the sooner she got this over with, the quicker her pockets would be lined. She lifted the heavy brass knocker and stood back, waiting. Her heart was thumping and yet she felt confident she could pull this off.
The door swung open, and there, wearing casual black trousers and an immaculate white shirt, stood a middle-aged man. He was roughly five feet eight and well toned. However, his eyes looked tired against his smooth, clean-shaven skin. She raised her eyebrow and curled her lip.
With her shoulders set back, she gave him a confident smile. ‘Well, are you going to ask me in?’ she said, in her most sophisticated voice.
Frederick looked her up and down and responded with a huge beaming smile of his own. He hesitantly stepped back, allowing her to enter, and took her into the drawing room, still eyeing her over. Lucy knew she had him in the palm of her hand: firstly, he was nervously licking his lips; secondly, he was ogling her from the top down; and finally, Carl was spot-on, the front of the guy’s trousers was positively bulging. He didn’t have a confident stride and she noticed the traces of a shuffle. He poured a drink. ‘Would you like one?’
‘Of course!’ She had to get into the role of being the boss. As he turned his back to pour her drink, Lucy marvelled at the room, with all its expensive furniture, grand gilt-edged paintings, and hi-tech entertainment equipment. The fireplace was enormous, and the Persian rugs were far larger than the entire ground floor of her dad’s house.
With her heart beating wildly, she kept her eyes on him, and a slow smile formed as she began unbuttoning her long leather coat and placing the whip slowly and provocatively on the grand settee. That’s when he approached her.
‘Here you are, madam,’ he said, as he nervously handed her a glass of Chardonnay.
She had to get into this new character. To hell with it, she thought. It’s now or never. Let’s give this creep something to jerk off on until the next time. She was going for an Oscar-winning performance. She snatched the whip and tapped the glass that he held in his hand. ‘Put it on the table,’ she ordered, loudly.
Frederick’s eyes were alive with excitement at the young woman’s body language. He couldn’t wait to get the proceedings started. His wife was out for at least a couple of hours at the local bridge club, so the evening was his, and he was going to make the most of it.
‘Don’t look at me until I tell you to!’ The words were spat out like an AK-47 on automatic fire.
Instantly, Frederick looked away.
Lucy couldn’t believe it. Here she was, a seventeen-year-old girl, controlling a grown man. With all his wealth and obvious standing, he was eagerly doing everything she said. It beggared belief. But, she was well up for this. She hurriedly stripped down to her black bra and knickers, leaving only her stilettos on. ‘Now, Frederick, look at me!’ she demanded.
When he looked up, she could see his nostrils flare, as he tried to control his excitable breathing. ‘I like my men naked, and I think you’ve been a very bad boy. You have, haven’t you?’ she said, with the trace of a mocking smile.
Again, Frederick licked his lips nervously, but there was a schoolboy eagerness to please her.
‘Take off your clothes this instant!’ she commanded, in a dry voice. She realised that she sounded a bit silly, and even wondered if he would do as she told him. He was a grown man, for fuck’s sake, and she was barely out of nappies, relatively speaking, of course. It was crunch time.
The banker appraised her, and he did as she ordered. As he turned away from her briefly to remove his socks, Lucy eyed the high-backed wooden chair and mentally worked out whether she could handcuff him with his arms behind his back. She needed to ensure he would still be able to release himself once the fun had finished. Slowly, she stepped back and snatched the chair, dragging it to the centre of the room. Then, holding the whip in her right hand, she cracked it twice in his direction, thinking, Let’s get this show on the road.
Lucy pointed with the whip at the chair. ‘Sit. I think you need to be taught a lesson, don’t you, Frederick?’
Frederick gave her a nervous glance and held his breath, as if anxiously wondering how far she would go with him. His cock was straining at the leash.
Lucy noticed a slight grin forming on his face, as he fought back the urge to smile. He did as she instructed, and then she pulled the blindfold from the pocket of her coat. But to maintain his interest, she straddled him, as she tied the black material over his eyes and round the back of his head. She thought he might come, there and then.
She stepped back and lightly whipped his leg. ‘You naughty boy! You moved. Now, I will have to restrain you!’
Gently, she pulled his hands behind his back and clicked on the handcuffs. She considered whether he might panic because he was totally helpless, sitting naked on a chair and so vulnerable. She was shocked, and then, for a split second, she felt a pang of guilt. The banker had never done her any harm and he completely trusted her. Her job was done, so she thought; all she had to do, once she’d got dressed, was to open the front door and scarper. How bloody simple was that?
‘Now for the entrée,’ she said, silently. Remembering Carl’s instructions, she opened the front door. She was on her way back into the drawing room when Paul appeared behind her, putting his finger to his lips. He then pulled a balaclava over his head. Behind him was another man she didn’t recognise; he looked really menacing with wide pupils and a demeanour like a coiled spring.
‘Sit on his lap and look fucking sexy,’ Paul whispered, holding a camera. Lucy bit her lip. Carl had never said anything about this, but she couldn’t run outside partially clothed. Paul nodded and winked. Frederick was still in the same position as Lucy straddled him again. She looked at Paul who was nodding with encouragement. Running her hands down the banker’s neck, she began moving up and down provocatively, as the other menacing man began to take pictures. Without the flash on, the camera made no noise.
Once again, Frederick’s penis began to come alive and he was groaning with pleasure. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Carl with a pair of black gloves on; he put his thumb up and disappeared into what she assumed was another room. On she continued, rubbing herself up against the man’s appendage. When, finally, Carl appeared with a bag and he held it up and nodded, she knew that her work for the evening was reaching a conclusion. She was almost in the process of climbing off her client, when Paul wagged his finger for her to continue.
The other man moved to within two feet of the banker and took a close-up of Frederick’s ten-dollar-bill tattoo, which was etched along his rib, and he couldn’t resist getting another shot of Frederick’s prize possession. Then, in a flash, the men left. Lucy climbed off t
he banker leaving him to finish himself off, assuming that’s what would happen in mistress and slave scenario.
She got herself dressed, unlocked the handcuffs, pulled the blindfold off, and said, ‘Right, now you be a good boy, or next time, I will leave you tied up for longer.’ She felt awkward because, really, she had no idea what she was supposed to do. Surprisingly, he smiled and nodded. ‘Yes, mistress,’ he replied demurely.
As Lucy left the house, ideas were almost popping out of her head with excitement. This little caper could easily turn her into an overnight sensation. The rewards were there, and she’d not even needed to engage in sex. Carl had shown her a whole new world, and she guessed he was going to try to be her puppetmaster. But as young as she was, she now had ideas of her own.
What a life she could have. She couldn’t wait.
Chapter 9
Eventually, Kara made her way to the front of the phone queue, hoping for answers to troubled thoughts in her head. Constantly idling in the back of her mind was that eerie phone call from the almost demonic voice she’d received that day back in the tearoom. She wondered if she’d imagined it, due to the sickness and the stress at the time. Had that phone call actually been a dream?
Unfortunately for her, it seemed that it hadn’t. The same voice asked, ‘How’s prison, dearest Kara? The green sweats fit you okay, do they?’
For a second, Kara was stunned. Her brain was in overload mode, such were the thoughts that were ripping through it like a force twelve hurricane. Her mother’s carer sounded almost deranged. She had a flashback to watching Chucky the doll in the movie Child’s Play. ‘How do you know I’m in prison? What’s going on?’ She tried to sound firm, but her nerves made her voice falter.
