Her Master's Voice

by Jacqueline George

  “Secondly, we have something more to celebrate. As we all know, a certain young lady…”

  “It’s Sherry!” squeaked Hope in delight.

  “A certain young and extremely beautiful young lady…” he continued.

  “Oooooh!” called the audience

  “A certain beautiful young lady has been staying here for the last few days. A little against her will, I think—yes?”

  Sherry felt embarrassed and did not meet his eye.

  “As I said, a little against her will, at least at first. She has been extremely badly treated by her mean and miserly husband...”

  “Oooooh!” again from the crowd and laughter at Tim, even from Sherry.

  “Who has not kept her as she should be kept. Such a wonderful and obedient woman…” he was interrupted again as his audience thought that ‘obedient’ was perhaps a little extravagant.

  “No, no. I won’t listen to you. I say wonderful and obedient. Such a wonderful and obedient woman is, of course, a jewel beyond price and her husband should treat her like a queen. She should be kept in the finest of silks and weighed down with gold. Well, I can forgive the lack of silks. Silk is not the fabric to bring to the beach. Perhaps he will provide them when they return to Singapore, and for the moment, we have only to look at her to see that covering such magnificence with clothes would be like gilding the lily.”

  Sherry felt deeply embarrassed by his words and wanted to protest, but Tim was beside her clapping frantically and whooping.

  Alistair waved for silence. “I shall continue. She looks better without the silks, but that’s no excuse for not having any gold. So, during our last visit, I spoke to this husband very severely, and at last he opened his wallet. We have been on the mainland, and the girls and I stood over the goldsmith while he prepared this for you.”

  From his pocket he drew a short, heavy gold chain and offered it to Sherry. She did not know what to do until Tim nudged her to get up. She took the chain. It lay over her palm, glistening richly. The links were thick and twisted to lie flat. The fastening was a small heart-shaped padlock. In its centre the links gave way to a plaque on which the words ‘Sherry my Love’ had been engraved in flowing script. It looked beautiful.

  Alistair took it back from her and gave it to the twins. They weighed and admired it together. Alistair passed them two keys. Sherry stood and watched her feet as the twins opened her cuff and threw it and its chain aside. Reverently they replaced it with the gold anklet.

  “Let us see, let us see,” called Alistair and she did a slow pirouette to show it off. And then she did not know whom to thank. She went to kiss Alistair but he waved her away. “No, no, not me. Your husband. He’s the one who thinks you’re worth it.”

  Tim was smiling widely as he watched her with her prize. She went to him and, to the applause of the others, kissed him. She settled happily beside him and rested with an elbow on his lap. She knew that as an oilfield engineer he was well paid, but heavy gold like this came at a price. It was by far the most valuable present she had ever received. She held at the back of her mind the thought that this was no simple gift but something much more symbolic. Still, it also showed that she was loved and respected. She felt comfortably owned, and that was a good feeling.

  Then Tim lent over her and whispered “Don’t you think you should give Alistair a little present yourself?”

  She immediately felt shocked and guilty. “Yes, but what? I don’t have anything with me.”

  “Oh, I don’t think he’d want anything like that. He’s got everything he could need anyway, but you could play his flute for him.”

  It was a kick in the stomach. The man who was meant to cherish and care for her sending her to—to suck another cock. Suddenly nauseous, she tried to work out an escape but found none. She had done it before for far less, she reasoned, and Alistair was her friend, and she owed him. Hating herself, she got to her feet.

  Alistair and the twins were expecting her. The girls unfastened Alistair’s loose white shorts and drew them off. He smiled proudly at her as she knelt in front of him.

  Sherry watched his sex stretching towards her. Slim and brown under its mushroom head, just as she had remembered it. She reached out with both hands to brush the rigid shaft with her fingertips. She was conscious of Tim watching behind her, and of the two girls close to her, their faces on either side of Alistair’s lap, expectant and waiting. She shuffled nearer between Alistair’s feet and bent to his cock. She knew how to do this and would give him the best he had ever had.

  Chapter 20

  They stood on the beach together, Tim’s arm around her. Waving as the boat turned and gathered speed, taking their friends home. They stood alone in the moonlight.

  “I really enjoyed that,” said Tim.

  “Enjoyed what?”

  “The evening. The meal—everything. Didn’t you?”

  Sherry thought about it as Tim took her hand and led her back to the cabin. Yes, she had enjoyed it. The meal, the atmosphere. The chain that weighed around her ankle. She had been flattered by Alistair’s speech and then even more by the twin’s admiration for the experience she had given Alistair, and she had to admit to herself that she had even enjoyed giving that experience. Tim was right. It was a fine present and suitable for a man who had everything.

  But as she examined what had happened… It felt like probing with her tongue for an extracted tooth, again and again. What was Tim thinking? How could he make her do it? What did his love mean to him?

  When they got back to the cabin, Tim sat her down and unlocked her anklet. Again she took it in her hand and admired it. It lay like a snake in her palm, rich, powerful, dangerous. As she admired it, Tim took her by surprise by bringing her cuff and chain and kneeling to fasten it. For an instant she thought of kicking and fighting, but the chain had no terror for her now and she continued caressing her gold anklet before putting it away safely.

  Tim showered quickly while she tidied up the last of the mess. When she came back from her own shower he was lying still under the mosquito net. She reached under the net for a pillow but on impulse lifted the net over her head instead. After what had happened, sleeping on the floor was irrelevant.

  Tim’s eyes opened as he felt her kneel on the bed and he smiled. “Welcome…” he said.

  She said nothing as she lay down beside him. There was nothing to say. She lay rigidly on her back, waiting for him to touch her but he left her alone.

  She woke with a start. Morning had come. In her sleep she had pressed back to spoon into Tim’s body and his arm rested over her hip. His stillness and his breathing showed he was asleep but pressing under the back of her thigh she felt the warm hardness of his rod. She lay unmoving and felt it pulse gently against her. Tim was dreaming of good things.

  Gently she disengaged herself and turned to face him. His erection looked strong in his lap, pointing up at her, its half-hooded eye staring. It looked big, much bigger than the one she had pleasured last night. No surprise that the twins had been excited and had rushed to ride it. She wanted to play with it herself.

  Careful not to wake Tim, she wriggled down the bed to get closer. The tip looked wet, a tear in its eye. She reached out to touch it with her fingertips and it jumped for her. The shaft was hard, tough resilience covered by a dry, silky sheath. Using only the tips of her fingers, she drew the sheath back to expose the mauve plum. A change in Tim’s breathing told that he had woken. She grasped the shaft in her fist and pulled the skin firmly back.

  “Mmmh, I like that,” he said dreamily. With her other hand she cupped his balls, brushing the hairy sac. Tim stretched out straight, pushing his cock towards her.

  In the old days, she would have pumped him, built up his excitement by working her hand up and down until he could climax, but she was wiser now. With the sheath pulled back tight, she tormented his mushroom head. Trailing her fingertips round and round, poking under the rim, lightly scratching the taut skin. She took her reward of sigh
s and sharp intakes of breath. It felt good to do this to him. He was completely in her control. She renewed her attack, taking the plum between her fingers, squeezing it, pulling, twisting. His reaction became wilder and out of control until he was crying “No, no, stop! Stop!”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing, but it’s too soon. Stop a minute. I want to enjoy you first.”

  He knew what he wanted. He rolled onto his back and pulled her over him. He guided her to kneel astride his hips and then pulled her forward to lie on his chest. He felt big and strong underneath her and he would not let her rest. He had one hand behind her head kissing her, while his other hand ranged over her back from her shoulders down to her bottom and underneath. This felt good. Both hands were exploring her now as she held his face in her hands and kissed him.

  “Now—I want to see,” he said and lifted her up. Still astride him, he pulled her up his body until she knelt over his chest. She looked behind her at her chain. It snaked over his stomach and the rigid cock that lay there. It too was a prisoner.

  As she knelt over him, he played with her breasts, stroking them, dragging his fingers over the outer surfaces and round underneath. Moving in to attack her nipples, to pull and twist them in the way he knew she liked. It was immensely exciting.

  Then he surprised her again. He placed her own hands on her breasts and burrowed his hands under her knees until his arms were straight by his sides. “Now, you’ve got me,” he said. “I can’t move. Play with your breasts. I want to see you enjoy yourself.”

  The feeling was strange and unfamiliar. She had him trapped beneath her, his arms pinned. He lay there apparently helpless between her knees. Her weight pressed down on his chest, and between her spread thighs her sex had woken. Her hands were still at her breasts.

  “Go on, show me,” he urged.

  She wanted to please him so she cupped her breasts and started to tease and roll her nipples between fingers and thumbs. It felt pleasant, more than pleasant, and a delightful opening feeling rose in the base of her stomach. She played with her nipples more firmly.

  “That’s it,” he whispered. “It’s so sexy to see you do that.”

  Knowing he was watching her so intently made it more exciting. She had become very wet and she wondered if he could feel it on his chest. She pulled her nipples out far from her body, pinching and twisting them. The sensations in her breasts, her stomach and her pussy mounted. Suddenly she knew that, with Tim watching her, she could come like this.

  “Show me more,” he said. “I want to see you come.”

  She was enjoying her moment of power. She sat on top and in charge. She could give herself pleasure, as much as she wanted, and Tim could only watch. Dimly she realised that this was what he wanted, to lie helpless while she satisfied herself. She reached down to her pussy and started to rub. She felt wet and slippery, ready for more. Tim stared between her thighs. He was so near but she was just out of his reach. He could only watch as her excitement mounted.

  Then she thought ‘No, I won’t do it like this. It’s too easy. I’ll show him something to remember.’ She stopped rubbing and started to tease her pussy with both hands. She squeezed it closed between her fingers and then spread it wide so he could see her secrets. She took the tips of her inner lips between fingers and thumbs and pulled them out towards his face. Then she opened herself to him, pulling her inner lips wide and spreading her flower as open as she could. Using two fingers of one hand she held them wide while she ran fingertips up and down her wet slippery centre. It felt exciting and more exciting to see Tim’s face so close. Now she dipped two fingers into her tunnel and spread her honey over her petals and up to her clit.

  Her clit was hard and hungry, and crying for more. Changing her grip, she pulled back her hood and showed him her pink button. He stared at it. She hooked a fingertip under it, and it screamed for more. She could not stop now. She rubbed the enflamed button directly with her fingertip and in seconds she was coming. Her eyes were closed, her mind was lost and she rubbed frantically. Her orgasm swept over her and she rocked on his chest, backwards and forwards, both hands clasped around her spasming pussy.

  Tim picked her up and set her down on his cock. She could do nothing. Her body clasped the pole at its centre and she could not move. With hands around her bottom Tim lifted her enough so that he could move under her and thrust rapidly into her. Her orgasm returned with more force and she was only vaguely aware of Tim’s final excitement as he pumped into her.

  He let her relax. Pulled her down on top of him and straightened her legs between his own. She lay on his chest, his root still firm inside her, and let the excitement ebb. Aftershocks of pleasure ran through her and she felt herself clamp down on him and relax again. She drifted off.

  Ahmed came for them soon after breakfast. She was sitting on the verandah, dressed again, their bag beside her. The clothes felt uncomfortable and unnecessary. Now the time had come to leave, she felt a sense of loss. She looked back at the little cabin as they pulled away. So simple, walls, a roof, coconut palms. “I wonder if Alistair will let us come back some time,” she mused half to herself.

  “I’m sure he would, if you asked him nicely.”

  “But no chains next time.”

  Tim put his arm around her and kissed her forehead. “I think that’s my decision, don’t you? It would depend on whether you’d been naughty or not.”

  Ahmed took them straight back to the mainland. “Pulau Kelapa,” he said, pointing out a dark green hump on the horizon. Sherry looked back at their own island. It had already receded and the cabin was hidden beneath its palms. She sat back and enjoyed the wind and spray on her face.

  She thought about the past few days. “Tim,” she asked, “I can understand most things, but how could you send me to Alistair yesterday? I’m your wife…”

  He smiled at her. “I don’t think you understand how it goes. I mean, having a wife like you is like, say, owning a Lamborghini. It makes you proud and you want to show it off to everyone. It’s fun to make everyone envious, and of course you want to take special friends for a ride in it, just for the fun of it.”

  “But I’m not a car,” she said, offended by the comparison.

  “No, you’re much better than that. Just means I enjoy showing you off even more.”

  “But making me suck him…”

  “Why not? It was fun, wasn’t it? He’s a friend. It was a present from both of us, and you were much more impressive than I had expected. I can’t wait for my turn.”

  “Stop it! What if he had wanted to have sex with me?”

  “Well, I’d only let the most special of my friends drive my Lamborghini, and then only on very special occasions.”

  Chapter 21

  Ranji came to meet her in the Pavilion. Sherry had chosen this place because of its atmosphere of Old Singapore, of the time when the British Empire ruled its colonial world in beefy complacency. The dark panelled room was furnished as she imagined the bar of a London gentleman’s club and they were served by old Chinese waiters in dark trousers and starched white jackets with high collars. There was no piped music and the room was an oasis of quiet just metres away from the traffic and bustle of Tanglin Road. Only the murmurs of other patrons and the rustle of newspapers disturbed the calm.

  Today Sherry was buying and they decided to be terribly English. Sherry had ordered a plate of sausages and mashed potato complete with thick gravy, and Ranji sat behind a large slice of steak and kidney pudding. It had been prepared in the traditional way, hard to find in a modern restaurant anywhere in the world, with glistening suet pastry boiled for hours. Ranji did not seem uncomfortable with the heavy northern food.

  “You don’t mind the cooking?” asked Sherry.

  Ranji smiled at her. “Too many calories I think! Really not good for Singapore. Here it is too hot for food like this, and this beer is also very heavy, but no problem now and then. I enjoy it, but it will make me fat. I can eat eve
rything. English, Chinese, Malay, everything. Except mustard. Mustard is too hot.”

  “What? English food too hot for you? I don’t believe it!”

  “It’s true. When first I had mustard, oh, it was terrible. My eyes are watering, my nose is on fire and I think my brain will be cooked. Never again, not even a little bit, and the same for your horseradish. To think English people say that Indian food is too hot!

  “So, tell me. How was your week in Malaysia?”

  “Good. Really good. We have a Malay friend who owns an island and we went to stay there all alone. He calls it ParadiseIsland but I think its real name is FishIsland in Malay.”

  “Oh, I’m interested! A rich Malay friend who’s got an island. How big was it? Does it have a resort on it?”

  “Not big. Just a couple of kilometres I think, and certainly no resort. There’s only a small beach at one end with a cabin to stay in. He says he goes there when he wants peace and quiet.”

  “Still, it’s not everyone who has an island,” said Ranji. “Tell me more about him. Is he single?”

  “You know, I’ve never asked him. He travels with a couple of Indonesian girls, twins, who are very beautiful and sexy, but they don’t behave like wives. So perhaps there’s hope for you. You know him anyway. You took me to him for—er—flute playing once. His name is Alistair.”

  Ranji was silent. Then she asked carelessly, “Did Tim get on well with him?”

  “Very well. I think they like each other. Tim rescued Alistair from drowning one day so he says.”

  “So Alistair didn’t say anything to Tim about the flute playing?”

  “Oh yes. Tim knows everything.”

  “What? Oh no… you must have been in terrible trouble. What’s he going to do? What did he say?”

  “He didn’t say anything at first. I thought we were going to Pulau Kelapa again but they put something in my drink and I woke up on ParadiseIsland. Then Tim told me he knew everything, even about the Irishman. He kept me chained up all week as a punishment.”