by Anna Cundell
‘Please, please…’
‘Please what?’
‘Please fuck me.’
‘This is what you want, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, yes but fuck me please.’
‘You have to call me master from now on.’
‘Yes, yes, please fuck me master.’
The word itself made her come. She came again the moment she felt his phallus pushing between the soaking wet walls of her pussy, pushing in so far she could scarcely breathe for the sinful bliss of it.
‘Master,’ she murmured again. ‘Yes, master.’
‘All right, let me just take this off for you,’ Dr Hammer said.
‘I – I must have fallen asleep,’ Clare murmured.
‘Yes, you did. Sit up and have a sip of water.’
She did as she was told. There was a carafe of water on his desk and a glass. She poured herself some and sipped it gratefully. Her mouth was dry. ‘So what happens now?’ she asked.
‘I have to analysis the results.’
‘You hypnotised me?’
‘Not exactly, but,’ he tapped his computer, ‘I have now got some information that I think I can use to form a diagnosis, and on the basis of that I will be able to prescribe a treatment. The treatment will involve staying at my clinic. You will need a two week period. Is that a problem?’
‘I’ve got some leave due.’
‘Good. Ring me when you have the date. I’ll make all the arrangements. I can assure you after the treatment you will never have nightmares or sleeping problems again.’
‘You sound very confident.’
‘I am.’
‘What about the cost?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve been given a very substantial research grant for my work. The treatment is entirely free of charge. Good day, my dear.’
Clare got to her feet, shook Dr Hammer’s hand and walked out of his office. She felt a little unsteady on her feet and had a dull ache in her shoulders.
Outside on the street she looked at her watch and was astonished to find it was almost five o’clock. The session with Dr Hammer had started at two, and apart from a few minutes at the beginning and end she could remember nothing of the remaining three hours.
She decided it was too late to go back to work, so she took a taxi home instead. She worked at an auction house valuing antiques, and fortunately most of the items for the next sale had already been researched and evaluated.
In the taxi she found it hard to get comfortable on the rear seat. Her bottom felt on fire and she was intensely aware of her sex. The crotch of her panties seemed to have worked their way between her labia and her clitoris was pulsing secretly against the damp material. The walls of her vagina seemed to be rippling and wet and her nipples felt as hard as stone. Whatever he’d learnt while she was asleep she guessed it was of a sexual nature and that probably accounted for her arousal.
Clare had always thought of herself as perfectly normal. She lost her virginity at seventeen and since then had sex with men both casually and in longer relationships. She hadn’t always experienced orgasms with all of them but she imagined most women would say that. The orgasms she had enjoyed, though, despite what Dr Hammer said, were deeply satisfying and left her with no room to feel frustrated.
But she was frustrated now.
She took out her mobile phone and dialled. ‘Greg?’
‘Hi sweetie. What’s up?’
‘Are you going to be at home soon?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘Can I meet you there?
‘Sure, but why?’
‘I need a favour.’
‘Tell me more.’
‘Just don’t be late.’
She ended the call and folded the phone back into her bag. Greg lived just around the corner from her house and had given her a set of keys.
Ten minutes later she was letting herself in through the front door of his apartment on the fifth floor of a modern purpose-built block. Though she’d never done anything like this in her life and didn’t understand where the idea had come from, or why she was so desperate to do it, she knew exactly what she wanted. And for what she had in mind the advantage of Greg’s bedroom over hers was his large brass bedstead.
She went into the kitchen and had another glass of water as she was still extremely thirsty, then began to search the kitchen cupboards. She found what she wanted in one of the drawers. It was an unused length of strong nylon cord. She took a kitchen knife too.
She walked into the bedroom and stripped off all her clothes, feeling a huge pulse of pleasure as she did. The clock on the bedside table read five forty-five. Greg was usually home at six. She would have to be quick.
She unwound the rope and used the kitchen knife to cut it into four, then tied each piece firmly to the four corners of the bedstead. Then she opened the drawer of the bedside table where they kept the sex toys they both liked to play with, and extracted the largest of three dildos. There was also a silk sleeping mask that Greg brought back from his last trip to America.
Lying on the bed she leant forward and tied her ankles with the rope so her legs were spread-eagled. That was the easy bit. Stretching up to the right hand side at the top of the bed she made a slipknot with the rope there. Then she made a loop on the left side and eased her wrist into it and knotted it tightly with her right hand.
She pulled against the bondage. It felt so good her sex responded with a throb of pleasure so intense she moaned audibly. She didn’t know why it affected her so greatly but there was no doubting that it did.
Now very gently she slipped the dildo down between her legs. Her already sensitised sex produced yet another wave of delicious sensation; in fact if she’d rubbed the tip of the dildo against her clit she knew it would only be a matter of seconds before she came. But she resisted the temptation. Instead she pushed the dildo into her pussy, feeling its rigid body sliding up into her and filling her completely. If she had ever doubted how excited she was the flood of wetness coating the dildo was confirmation enough.
The problem now was holding the dildo in place. She could not close her legs and her sex was so wet it kept sliding out, but she found by angling her bottom down she could trap the heel of it against the duvet.
She slipped the sleeping mask over her head until it was just above her eyes, then reached up with her right hand and inserted her wrist into the final loop of rope. Managing to pinch the ends of it with her fingertips she tightened the slipknot around her wrist, then turned her head and rubbed her temple against the pillow so the sleeping mask slid over her eyes.
Suddenly in the darkness a rush of feelings swept over her. Spread and exposed. Powerless. The strength of the pulse of excitement she felt at this thought took her by surprise, making her vagina contract strongly and pushing the slippery dildo almost all the way out of her body.
‘Fuck,’ she said, struggling to free her right hand so she could reinsert the dildo, but the slipknot had tightened too much and now she was blindfolded she could not see to work on it with her fingers. She tried to angle her buttocks down again but instead of pushing the dildo up it somehow turned the little gnarled ring at the base and it began to vibrate.
‘Oh no,’ she groaned, and in her mind’s eye she could see herself spread-eagled on the bed, the ropes biting into her flesh, the glistening dildo half out of her pussy. The vibrations were delicious but she had to stop herself from coming for fear her orgasm would push the dildo out entirely. It was a teasing torture. Oh god, how she hoped Greg would get home soon so he could feed the dildo up inside her and hold it there until she had come over it. Then he could replace it with his cock.
‘Clare? What are you doing?’ The buzzing of the vibrator had prevented her hearing the bedroom door.
‘I… I started without
you,’ she gasped.
‘I didn’t know you were into all this.’
‘Neither did I. Please Greg, do something. Can’t you see the state I’m in?’
She felt his weight resting on the bed and immediately, just as she’d hoped, he pushed the plastic phallus deep into her body, right up to the neck of her womb. And just as immediately her vagina contracted around it and she came, gasping with pleasure, tossing her head from side to side on the bed and wriggling onto the phallus as much as her bonds would allow. ‘Oh god, oh god.’
The moment Greg felt her climax subside he let the dildo slip out and was on her in its place. He didn’t bother to undress. He just pulled his trousers and underpants down to his knees and shuffled between her spread legs. She came again as his hard cock thrust up inside her.
‘Oh, master…’ She didn’t know why that word had suddenly seeped into her head, but it made her come. She wanted him to be her master.
‘Is this what you want?’ he grunted, thrusting harder and harder, his balls rolling against her stretched labia, his body rigid. She could feel his cock pulsing inside her and tried to wrap her arms around him, forgetting she was in bondage, the ropes preventing it. That restriction on her limbs, the fact she was so utterly powerless, made her convulse with orgasm yet again. This time the violent contractions of her vagina brought Greg off too, his cock erupting inside her.
Eventually he rolled to the side, flopping on his back. ‘I can see you got the girl guides badge for knots,’ he said, pulling her blindfold off then struggling to untie the ropes. ‘What got into you?’
‘I just felt like something different,’ she said, not wanting to tell him about Dr Hammer. ‘You’re not complaining, are you?’
‘No, it was great,’ he said, but without much conviction. She thought she could see a faint look of distaste in his eyes.
‘Good.’ With some discomfort, her legs and arm muscles aching from the effort of pulling against the ropes, she got up from the bed. ‘Got to pee,’ she said.
‘Bloody hell, what happened to you?’ he said as she walked to the bathroom.
‘What?’ She glanced over her shoulder into the mirror. Across her buttocks were two vivid purple stripes.
Chapter Two
Clare lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Usually she had no trouble getting off to sleep, but tonight she could not stop thinking about Dr Hammer.
She had arranged with her boss to take a fortnight leave, starting tomorrow. Dr Hammer’s receptionist had given her the name and address of his clinic and told her to arrive promptly at nine a.m. But thoughts of what lay ahead preyed on her mind.
She could not forget what had happened to her after her visit to his office a week before. It was not only the extraordinary performance she had put on for Greg afterwards which she was sure had somehow been provoked by the doctor, but the fact that she could find no explanation for the two weals that had decorated her buttocks and only just faded. She’d fobbed Greg off with an explanation about falling over onto an iron grid and bruising herself, but she could not kid herself that was what had really happened.
The trouble was that since going to see Dr Hammer, not only had she thought about sex almost all the time, she also seemed to be thinking about elaborate bondage fantasies like the one she’d played out with Greg. Among other things she kept imagining what it would be like to be whipped. Her buttocks had become incredibly sensitive, perhaps because it had taken the weals a while to heal and she had found herself deliberately rubbing them to provoke the delicious feelings they engendered.
In fact sex had become a major preoccupation. The look of distaste she had glimpsed on Greg’s face had been confirmed by the way he’d behaved subsequently. He had barely talked to her and refused all invitations to come around with some flimsy excuse or other; so she’d had to make do with her own devices. She found herself literally running to get home at night so she could strip off all her clothes, take a vibrator and masturbate, the words ‘yes, master’ forever on her lips.
Sometimes she blindfolded herself and stuffed panties in her mouth as a gag to get herself nearer the feeling of being bound and subjugated by her ‘master’. She found a satin corset she had only worn once before and took to putting it on and lacing it as tightly as she could, loving the feeling of constriction it imposed on her. Frequently she would masturbate to the most unbelievable climaxes.
The funny thing was she had never been that interested in sex before. She enjoyed it, but a weekly visit from Greg usually satisfied all her sexual needs. She had no idea how such a significant change had occurred but she was convinced the visit to the clinic would make everything clear. She was sure Dr Hammer’s therapy was unconventional, but she was equally sure it would be effective.
A bell rang, and it took her a moment to realise it was her own front door. She peered at the clock; it was one in the morning. It could be Greg, she supposed, but he’d told her he was going away for three days. Perhaps he’d changed his plans and decided to surprise her. She hoped so; her appetite for sex was insatiable and a throbbing cock was just what she needed after the inanimate dildos she’d had to make do with all week.
She got up, brushed her hair quickly and went downstairs to the front door.
‘Ms Mason?’ Two men stood on the doorstep, both young and slim, and both wearing white coats, like medical orderlies. One had thick and very blond curly hair, and the bluest eyes Clare had ever seen. The other held a clipboard.
The diaphanous black nightdress she wore did little to hide her lovely breasts, and she self-consciously put an arm over them. ‘Um, yes?’
‘We’re from Dr Hammer. We have orders to take you to the clinic.’
‘What? But I was told…’
‘Just put these on, Ms Mason. Get your house keys but it is not necessary to take anything else,’ the blond said. He handed her a pair of red leather ankle boots with a vertiginous heel and a rather wrinkled red garment made of thin rubber. It appeared to be some sort of cat-suit.
‘Now?’
‘Yes, Ms Mason, now.’
Clare was not sure what to do. She was supposed to report to the clinic in the morning. Clearly Dr Hammer had changed the plan. ‘All right,’ she eventually said. ‘Give me a couple of minutes.’
‘We’ll be waiting,’ the blond man said, with what Clare thought was a knowing look in his eyes. ‘And take your watch off too,’ he said, nodding towards her wrist.
Feeling disorientated and at the same time oddly excited, Clare ran upstairs. She pulled off her nightdress, took off her watch and examined the garment they had given her. It had a long zip all the way down the front. She opened it and stepped into the leggings, smoothing the rubber up her legs. It stretched like a second skin. The arms had gloves and the neckline came right up to her throat. There was even a hood that covered most of her head, leaving only her face visible.
It took her some minutes to stretch and pull the garment on, and fit her hair into the hood. She had to reach down between her legs to find the tongue of the zip, and the rubber was so tight that getting it done up was quite a struggle. The rubber was hot and she found herself sweating as she finally yanked the zip up under her chin. She then sat on the bed to pull on the boots. They fitted perfectly, making her wonder how Dr Hammer had known her size, but when she got to her feet the heels were so high it felt like she was standing on tiptoe.
She looked at herself in the mirror. The rubber cut deeply into her sex, clearly outlining her labia, and it did its best to flatten her firm round breasts. Her nipples, which hardened as soon as they touched the rubber, were outlined prominently against the smooth, featureless material. The hood left no more than an oval of her face visible, and she hardly recognised the worried features that stared back at her.
The height of the heels meant she could only take the most diminutive steps, but she caref
ully went around making sure all the lights were turned off.
She found her house keys and tottered to the front door. As she reached out to open it, her fingers sheathed in the tight red rubber she realised her hand was shaking, but inside she felt a sharp pulse of excitement.
‘I’m ready,’ she said, opening the door.
The two men had not moved, and appeared not to give her a second glance.
‘I’ll take those,’ the blond said, indicating her keys, as soon as she had double locked her front door.
They led her to a large black van, and then the man with the clipboard opened one of the rear doors while his associate helped her climb inside.
The interior was also black, with a padded leather bench bolted to the centre of the floor – thick leather straps attached to its frame. There were horizontal rails about two feet apart running all round the walls of the van, and hanging from these was a series of leather harnesses, chains, ropes, more rubber garments and, spread-eagled facing Clare, another woman. She had a round face with short strawberry-blonde hair, and was strapped to the rails by white leather cuffs at her wrists and ankles, naked apart from a white leather harness, an arrangement of straps that crisscrossed her body and bit into her flesh. They surrounded her large breasts, and then were joined to a thick belt around her waist. From this a single strap ran down between her legs, cutting deeply into her shaved sex so her labia were squeezed out on either side. A large orange ball-gag had been pushed between her lips, forcing her mouth wide open, her eyes were covered with a leather blindfold, and she was wearing boots identical to Clare’s.
‘I want you to lie here, on your stomach,’ the blond man said, indicating the bench.
‘What for?’ Clare asked, unable to take her eyes off the woman.
‘Because I have to put you in bondage,’ he said patiently.
‘B-bondage?’ Clare stammered, turning her attention to him. ‘But I don’t understand; I’m coming with you willingly.’ She felt the van begin to move off, almost making her lose her balance.
