‘Do take a seat,’ said Maria languidly, heading for the cabinet. ‘What can I tempt you with?’
Tom opted for a brandy, and I had a tiny splash of gin with a lot of tonic. Maria, I noticed, stuck with mineral water.
‘So, my dears,’ she said, when we were established with our drinks. ‘You are both newcomers to this wonderful world, and I expect you have a lot of questions. Please feel free to ask me anything you like.’
‘What exactly do you have in mind for tonight?’ I blurted.
She shook her head.
‘I don’t have anything at all in mind, darling. I’ll be guided by you two. Tell me what you want to see, or try, and I’ll accommodate you.’
I smiled shakily and looked at Tom.
‘I’m concerned about safety,’ he said. ‘I, uh, spanked somebody the other day and I was worried I’d gone too far. I’d like you to show me how to do it without…’ He broke off, looking slightly agonised. ‘Well, without hurting them. If that doesn’t sound quite mad.’
‘Without harming them, perhaps?’ suggested Maria.
‘Yes. That.’
‘You’ve come to the right place,’ said Maria. ‘Of course, we might need somebody to demonstrate on.’ She winked at me, then leaned forward and squeezed my fingers. ‘Only if you want it, sweetie.’
I wondered if it was too late to run away. For one thing, Tom’s belt had left a few traces of evidence on my backside – not as obvious as they had been on the Sunday morning, when he’d gasped over them with a mixture of horror and pride – but the yellowing marks were still there. For another – well, you know. Showing a near-total stranger my bare bum might be a little awkward.
‘How long have you been doing this?’ Tom asked politely.
‘Oh, my story isn’t interesting,’ she said dismissively. ‘Long enough.’
‘Not interesting?’ he said with a laugh. ‘Right, because professional Dominatrices are ten a penny. Of course it’s interesting. How did it come about?’
She seemed flattered by Tom’s attention, and she sipped coyly at her water for a moment before replying.
‘No big mystery to it,’ she said. ‘My husband divorced me after he found me in bed with another woman. She was submissive and we’d been exploring our sexualities together. After the divorce, I needed cash, so she suggested I try my hand at professional Domming. I put an advert in the paper, worked from my own little flat at first, until I earned enough to hire this place. The money’s good, and very steady. I turn down more clients than I service now.’
‘Demand outstrips supply,’ said Tom. ‘A true capitalist success story. I suppose you can name your price.’
‘Pretty much.’
‘What about the girlfriend?’ I asked. ‘Is she still around?’
Maria put down her drink with a grimace.
‘Ironically, she decided she couldn’t cope with me getting paid for the things I did to her for love. She left.’
Tom shook his head. ‘Bummer.’
‘There’s a world full of people who want a piece of me,’ said Maria briskly. ‘The loss was small and soon forgotten. Now then. What would you like to see first?’
‘Why is there a ballet barre?’ I asked, finishing my G&T and putting down my glass.
‘Ah, I have a client with a Black Swan fetish. I play the severe ballet teacher, he is the hapless dancer. And he really can’t dance, let me tell you, never mind how pretty his tutu is.’
I snorted with laughter, imagining some paunchy middle-aged type in frills and tights.
‘I presume you have more gear than that barre,’ said Tom. ‘I’d be fascinated to see your stock. Stocks, even.’
‘I don’t have stocks,’ said Maria serenely. ‘A pillory, on the other hand…’
She rose and beckoned us to follow her. A moment later, the little sitting room was shut off, replaced by the mirror panel, and we crossed to the opposite side of the room. The mirrors on the far wall opened like concertina doors, revealing a huge storeroom stacked with all kinds of bizarre items of furniture. As I peered into the gloom, the first things to hit my eye were a St Andrew’s Cross at the back, a long leather-padded bench with cuffs buckled to it at either end, and the aforementioned pillory. Everywhere were things I could not identify, made of stainless steel or shining mahogany or hi-tech plastics. It was intimidating in the extreme, and I wanted to shrink closer to Tom, but I didn’t dare.
‘So then,’ said Maria with a flourishing hand gesture. ‘Take your pick. Anything you’d like to see in action?’
‘This is nice,’ I said, running my hand over the least scary option, a sumptuous and curvaceous couch thing, covered in a soft maroon fabric somewhere between silk and velvet.
‘Ah, I don’t use that,’ said Maria. ‘It’s a sex couch, for couples who want to fuck after their session. My orifices are not for sale.’
‘What about this?’ Tom picked up something that looked like a giant rubber spider web.
‘Ah, you can attach that to a door and buckle your sub in, like a little fly caught in a web. I have clients who enjoy some strap-on action in that position. Looks terribly uncomfortable to me, but what do I know?’
‘Oh, my God,’ I said, having moved on to a beautiful carved wooden horse, complete with jingling bridle, reins and…dildo sticking up from the centre of the saddle.
‘Oh, now every sub should experience this beauty,’ said Maria, coming up behind me and patting its wooden flank. ‘Picture it, Ellie – positioned on your horse, filled and bent over, riding away while your lover smacks your bum with a dressage whip. Look.’ She lifted its tail, pressed a button, and the horse began to move, a rhythmic bucking, accompanied by substantial vibrations. My mouth ran dry. Yes, I could imagine that might be quite…stimulating. There was no way I could look at Tom while my mind was full of the image of him in riding boots and a tightly fitted jacket, wielding the whip. ‘For a girl, it’s perfectly ideal,’ she said. ‘Would you like to try it?’
‘Er…not just now,’ I gibbered.
‘But in private?’ she said, smiling knowingly.
I’m not going to admit that to you!
‘If you aren’t going to demonstrate for us, we can’t use any of it,’ protested Tom. ‘You’re the sub around here.’
‘Hush, be a gentleman,’ said Maria. ‘Don’t pressure the poor girl. Anyway, if you want a real taste of the possibilities here, you might volunteer yourself. You don’t need to undress. I’m happy to do the honours.’
I wheeled round to face Tom, a broad grin splitting my face.
‘That’s a good idea,’ I said.
‘I don’t like pain,’ he complained.
‘Oh, don’t be a wuss,’ said Maria. ‘I won’t hurt you. It’s just for fun.’
‘OK,’ he said after a pause. ‘What about the pillory then?’
Maria clapped her hands.
‘Good choice,’ she purred. ‘Will you help me wheel it out? The heavier pieces are all on castors.’
Maria and Tom moved the pillory out of its storage niche and into the mirrored playroom. Once it was in the centre, she fixed the castors so they couldn’t roll and went to open yet another concealed storage area behind one of the other mirrors. In this were whips and chains of every description, but she didn’t reach for any of these. Instead she drew out a strong box and took from it a heavy metal key.
‘Now then, my willing victim,’ she said, opening the padlock and swinging the top bar of the pillory so that it was ready to accept malefactors. ‘Try it for size.’
Tom, smirking uneasily, put his wrists and neck on to the curved dips. He had to bend quite a lot, as he was tall and the pillory somewhat low, but that was all the better for Maria’s purposes, I imagined.
She closed the upper half, imprisoning his head and arms, and locked it tight.
‘Comfortable?’ she asked.
‘Not too bad,’ he replied. ‘You don’t have a stash of rotten tomatoes in here, do you?’
‘No, although clients have been known to request it sometimes.’
‘Really?’ I said, laughing.
‘Yes, I had a man once who liked having soft fruit squashed all over his genitals. I was happy to oblige.’
‘You should write a book,’ I said. ‘You must have the most amazing collection of anecdotes.’
‘Well, it has been mentioned,’ she said, stepping back and appraising Tom’s apprehensive expression. ‘Perhaps this would make an interesting chapter. Now, then, Ellie – come and help me choose a weapon.’
Moving around behind the pillory, I couldn’t help sneaking a peek at Tom’s behind. The low height of the pillory meant that it was thrust out rather nicely, the fabric of his jeans straining over two perfectly defined mounds. I could almost see what the tops saw in this sadism lark – it was such a tempting target.
Back at the cupboard, I was faced with an impossible choice. There were simply too many implements and they scared me, hanging there with their deadly glamour. I could almost imagine they were alive, ready to snake out of their racks and get to work.
‘Leather?’ mused Maria, running her hand along a row of straps. ‘Or wood?’ She picked up a thing that looked like a pizza oven shovel and whacked it against her thigh. ‘It needs to be something fairly hefty,’ she noted, ‘since he’s wearing jeans. He won’t feel a sweet little flogger like this one.’ She twirled the pretty suede strands of a pink and purple number around her fingers.
‘I like these,’ I said, picking a sleek, chic riding crop from its peg. It was stiff in my hand, but when Maria took it from me I saw that it could be flexible as she bent its gleaming shaft into a shallow parabola.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Maria, slapping the leather triangle at its tip into her palm. ‘I always enjoy giving a good old-fashioned thrashing with one of these. One client likes me to dress up in a Victorian riding habit and take him through his dressage paces. You can imagine where I put his tail.’
‘Oh, my God.’
She produced a strange crystal object with a fountain of luxuriant horsehair spilling from its end. Mia had extemporised on butt plugs in her blog, but this was a step further!
‘We won’t be pushing the equestrian theme that far with our Master Tom, though,’ she said with a wink, putting it back.
She strode up behind him, and I thought perhaps the leather flooring wasn’t quite suitable for her purposes – it would have been so much more atmospheric if her heels had click-click-clicked all the way. Then again, perhaps the silence was more intimidating for Tom, who wouldn’t necessarily know when she was close until her heavy perfume whacked him in the sinuses.
I had to admit, I was finding this exciting. Maria was perfect in her posture, her self-containment, her aura of absolute dominance.
‘Are you ready, young man?’ she asked in a low but firm voice.
‘As I’ll ever be,’ said Tom. Was he nervous? It was impossible to tell.
She laid the tip of the crop on the centre of his upturned backside and tapped it a few times, radiating outwards to cover both cheeks with light, teasing flicks.
‘That’s quite nice, actually,’ he said, and that was when she raised her arm high, held it stiff for a moment, then let the whip slash down. It landed with an echoing WHAP that seemed almost loud enough to shatter the mirrors.
‘Oh, God!’ His voice soared to a reedy soprano. In the mirrors, I could see the combination of pure shock and pain on his face.
I wanted to run over and pull the whip away from her, but at the same time I didn’t. Part of me rather thought that Tom deserved it, and needed to know how it felt.
‘Do you like it?’ I asked.
‘Please, ma’am, may I have another?’ was his reply.
‘Oh, he challenges us,’ said Maria. ‘Ellie, why don’t you give him the next stroke?’
‘Me? Oh, no. I couldn’t.’
‘Of course you could,’ said Maria severely.
‘Go for it,’ added Tom.
‘There, you have his consent. He wants you to whip him.’ She held out the crop, tip foremost.
‘Well,’ I said, coming forward and accepting it without enthusiasm. ‘I don’t know how hard to…’
‘He’s a big boy,’ said Maria. ‘And he has some protection in the form of denim. Put your arm into it. But don’t aim above here.’ She stroked an area in the centre of Tom’s arse. ‘Try as low as you can on the cheeks. Give him something to remember you by, next time he sits down.’
I waved the whip back and forth in the air, trying to get used to the feel of it in my hand. I wanted to make it whistle through the air, but it didn’t. Perhaps an implement needed to be thinner for that.
‘Here goes then,’ I said, choosing my target – the curve of his right cheek. ‘Brace yourself.’
I laid a stroke that I thought was hard, but Tom clearly didn’t.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘That’s more like it. I could get into that.’
‘Perhaps you aren’t one of nature’s Dommes,’ said Maria, smiling. ‘Here, let me finish off.’
‘How many?’ asked Tom nervously.
‘How many do you think you deserve?’ countered Maria.
‘Er…’
‘Ellie?’ She turned to me. ‘What do you think he deserves?’
‘Six,’ I said. ‘Isn’t that the usual number?’
‘With a cane, yes,’ she said, nodding. ‘Very well. Six of my very best it is. Those first two won’t count. Now, Tom, I will expect you to thank me for each one, if you don’t want extra strokes. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said robustly.
Maria made the whip whistle. And she made it thwack. And she made Tom grit his teeth hard, but an occasional whimper still made it through the grid.
By the sixth stroke he had unclenched and given himself over to snorting and gasping his way through it.
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ he muttered, once the last echo of the last stroke had faded, then, ‘Dear God.’
‘Are you OK?’ I asked, hurrying around to the front of him.
‘Fine,’ he said, and there was a look of slight irritation on his face. He tilted his head to suggest I should go back to where Maria stood, and I remembered that we weren’t meant to really know each other. The intensity and intimacy of kink made faking things extraordinarily difficult. I wished I’d realised this before.
Maria handed the whip to me while she went to release Tom from the pillory. I held it before me, fascinated, trying to imagine how it would feel landing on my bare bottom with the full force of Tom’s shoulder. Mia had blogged about the day J took her riding. Halfway across a remote field, he had made her dismount and bend over a haystack, her jodhpurs tight across her bum. I tried to remember some of what she had said about it. Pure red flame, mixing with the heat of the day and my already saddle-sore stiffness. After the whipping, he had pulled down her jodhpurs and – how did she put it? – ‘entered her most secret place.’ The ride back had been uncomfortable.
And had the man who did this been that angry-looking councillor? It was hard to believe, yet I ought to consider it. After all, Mia and her friends and lovers probably weren’t the impossibly beautiful characters I had pictured in my head. It was entirely likely that she was the mousy woman I had seen earlier, and the dashing J was the broad-shouldered, bullish fiftysomething in the lobby.
My thoughts were interrupted by Tom, rolling his shoulders and twisting his neck, then clamping his hands firmly on the seat of his jeans and rubbing them, with moans of relief.
‘That was very…instructive,’ he said. ‘Thanks for the lesson.’
‘De nada,’ said Maria, taking the whip from me. ‘What about you, Ellie? I’m very interested to hear about you. And don’t be shy – tell me all about what you like and don’t like. Is there anything in my discipline cupboard that appeals to you?’
‘Discipline cupboard,’ I repeated.
‘Every home should have one,’ said Tom with a wink.
&n
bsp; ‘Well,’ I said, stalling and blushing. ‘Just…like I said…I’m not really…I mean, I haven’t…I’m pretty new to all this.’
‘We all were, once,’ said Maria encouragingly. ‘Do you like to be restrained?’
‘I might,’ I said after a pause. ‘I don’t want to…you know…’ I gestured down to my clothes, then tugged at the hem of my T-shirt dress. It was important Maria didn’t see the state of my obviously pre-spanked bum.
‘Nobody has to get naked,’ she smiled. ‘In fact, many of my clients keep at least some of their clothes on. Very often, dressing up is all part of it.’
‘I guess I used to fantasise about being tied up,’ I admitted.
‘Used to?’ said Tom with a curl of his lip.
‘OK, I still do.’
‘Well, then – Tom, help me put this pillory away and we’ll see what we can conjure up, shall we?’
My skin was prickling as they wheeled the thing back to the storeroom. What was going to happen to me? Would Maria’s ‘Mrs Nice Domme’ exterior change once she had me at her mercy? Would she and Tom team up to inflict as much pain and humiliation upon me as they dared? And why was this prospect so appealing?
Maria returned from the storeroom carrying nothing more than a remote control unit. Tom, on the other hand, had a length of chain with cuffs attached, and a metal pole, a couple of feet long, again with cuffs at each end.
‘OK,’ I said slowly, eyeing the chains. ‘So…?’
Maria pointed her remote at the ceiling. Two of the tiles lifted upwards, creating a dark cavity from which a hook began to descend, attached to a length of steel twine.
My breath shortened dramatically. This looked like something from a horror movie. Maria let it descend until it was about my height, then she made it stop.
‘Come over here, then, Ellie,’ she invited. ‘And let’s try you for size.’
‘You aren’t going to hang me from that thing, are you?’ I asked, somehow unable to put one foot in front of the other.
Fast and Loose Page 14
