by Becky Bell
And that was it. The rest of the pages of the book were empty. Twenty minutes later the bathroom door opened. A woman with brown wavy hair wearing a plain green dress, tan nylons and brown high heels walked out. Angela was not surprised. Though with full make-up, carefully drawn eyebrows, and eye shadow and mascara, the woman looked as feminine as she had in the photograph, there was no doubt that it was Phillip Menzies. The photograph album had been his way of telling her what he wanted. The redhead was no doubt the woman he had mentioned in the bar downstairs, the woman who had understood his needs.
Angela got up and opened the doctor's bag, then sat on the edge of the bed. She crossed her legs. She wondered if the woman had demanded he dress up like that or whether it had been his own idea.
'What's your name?' she asked.
'Phillipa.' Phillip stood staring at the floor.
She should have known. She thought of Harriet and Harry.
'Do you know what I am, Phillipa?'
'No, I don't.'
'The woman in the photographs. I'm like her, Phillipa. She demanded things of you, didn't she?'
'Yes.'
'How did you address her?'
'She made me call her "madam".'
'You must call me that, too. Did she make you wear these clothes?'
'Yes, madam; it pleased her.'
'Good. Because it pleases me too. I like women. I like to see you dressed as a woman.'
'Thank you, madam.'
'Get on your knees.' She changed her tone of voice and barked this command out.
Phillip fell to his knees. Angela pointed at her feet. 'You know what to do.'
'Yes, madam.'
He sunk to the floor and started licking her left shoe, which was still on the floor. He licked all around it enthusiastically, then turned to her right, which was dangling in the air.
Angela watched him. He made a pretty woman. His legs had been shaved and were shapely, his body was slight and his small-featured face could easily have been feminine. Now she knew exactly what was expected of her, she found that she could relax. She was quite happy to let this man perform as he had performed in the photographs.
'That's enough.'
Phillip stopped immediately but did not move, waiting for his orders.
'I want you to take that dress off.'
'Yes, mistress.'
Phillip struggled to unzip the dress, not as practised as a woman in such matters. Eventually he managed to grip the tongue of the zip. He grasped the hem and pulled it over his head. He was wearing the same lingerie as in the photographs. The lacy bra was stuffed with two jelly-like prosthetics, so realistic that it was difficult to distinguish them from the real thing.
'Now put your hands behind your back and turn around.'
Phillipa obeyed.
Angela reached into the doctor's bag. She did not have the white rope featured in the photograph, but she had brought the tough leather cuffs and straps she used on Archie. She wrapped one pair around Phillip's wrists and buckled them tight, then did the same with another pair just above his elbows. She took out a wide leather strap and wound it around his delicate feminine ankles, and buckled that tight too. As she got to her feet and admired her work, she felt a familiar pang of arousal. There was something about putting a man into bondage that never failed to excite her.
'Turn round again,' she ordered.
Phillip found it much more difficult to accomplish this feat with his arms and legs bound, but eventually managed to shuffle around until he was facing the bed again.
Angela unzipped her white skirt and let it slide to the floor. She stepped out of it and laid it on the bed. With the envelope of money stuffed into the doctor's bag, and the photo album telling her exactly what was required of her, there was no disguising from herself that she was behaving exactly like a prostitute. But that didn't inhibit her. She was here because she wanted to be. She had a role to play and she relished it.
'You know what I want you to do, don't you?' she said.
'Yes, mistress.'
'Good.' She pulled her jacket off, stripped the tight blouse over her head and ran her fingers through her long blonde hair. She was wearing a cream silk bra, matching thong panties and a narrow suspender belt supporting her flesh-coloured stockings. She pulled her panties down her legs, let them drop to the floor, then stooped to pick them up. She held them to Phillip's face and stroked his cheek with the silky material.
'Does that feel nice, Phillipa?'
'Yes, mistress, lovely,' he said, half-closing his eyes. She saw him inhale the scent of her perfume she had dabbed between her thighs, mixed with the musky aroma of her sex.
Angela knelt on the bed. She crawled round until she was right in front of him, then spread her knees apart. Her pubis was neatly framed by the suspender belt and stocking-tops. She began to stroke the furry hair, letting her finger drift down into her labia. Her clitoris was already swollen. It welcomed her intrusion with a little jolt of pleasure.
Phillip's eyes stared straight ahead. She could see that the old-fashioned white nylon panties were tented by the outline of his erection.
Angela unclipped her bra, cupped both her breasts in her hands, pinched her hard nipples and felt a surge of arousal. She moved closer to him, then sat on the edge of the bed. Just as the woman in the photograph had done, she reached forward and ran her fingers into the brown hair of his wig, pulling him down onto her sex.
Phillip's mouth was small and neat. She felt his tongue gently searching for her clit. When he found the little nub of nerves he pressed it back against the underlying bone, then relaxed, then pressed it back again, establishing a rhythm. At the same time his tongue seemed to slide over it in a circular motion. She had never experienced this. Her clit seemed to flutter, like a butterfly, producing a whole raft of new sensations.
Angela lay back on the bed, raising her thighs and hooking them over his shoulders, bending her knees and digging her heels into his back. Now he had access to the rest of her sex, he immediately slithered his mouth down to her vagina. His tongue played around the entrance, then began stroking up and down her sex, from her clit to the little puckered hole of her anus. At the top it paused briefly to press on her clit, producing a surge of sensation, then stroked back again with a rhythm as regular as the second hand of a clock.
Angela felt her body beginning to tremble. She had never felt anything quite like this. Instead of all her feelings being concentrated on her clit this treatment was sensitising the whole length of her pussy.
Briefly she raised her head to look down at him. For all intents and purposes it was a woman's face that was plying between her legs, and certainly he had a woman's sensitivity. Only Paula had licked and sucked her as beautifully as this.
Her head dropped back. The feelings gathering in her body were irresistible. The long trail of his tongue left an indelible impression in her. Her vagina was alive and she could feel her juices running down the inner walls. As her muscles locked in response to all this provocation and her eyes were forced closed, she arched her back up off the bed and her orgasm gushed over her. At exactly that moment, Phillip crushed his mouth to the entrance of her vagina and she felt his tongue darting inside while his nose pressed on her clit. This caused another explosion at the epicentre of her orgasm, even bigger than the first, as though she had come twice, every muscle and sinew stretched now like a piano string.
Slowly the feelings leached away. For a second, as she opened her eyes, she found it hard to remember where she was. The walls of the hotel room came into focus and she raised her head and looked down at Phillip. He was kneeling in front of her, his mouth and chin wet, his pale red lipstick smeared.
'You're very good at that,' she said.
'Thank you, madam.'
The bulge in the white nylon panties was beginning to disappear and there was a large damp stain spreading in its place.
Chapter Ten
'So what happened then?'
'He went into the
bathroom and changed. He asked me if he could call me again.'
Paula sipped her champagne, her legs curled up under her. She was wearing a skintight black PVC catsuit. It had full sleeves and a high collar, but an elongated diamond-shaped cut-out from just underneath the neck to just above her belly button provided a tantalising view of her big breasts, which looked as if they might escape through it at any moment. She had taken off her black leather ankle-boots.
'And what did you say?'
'I said I'd think about it.' She grinned. 'Actually, the way he made me feel, I'd do it for nothing.'
'That good?'
'Mmm... just thinking about it makes me feel all mushy here.' She pressed her fingertips into her belly.
'Just looking at you makes me feel the same,' Paula said, smiling.
Sir Archibald Clarke had arrived half an hour ago. He had given Angela an envelope containing two hundred pounds and had then been taken into the treatment room. Paula had got there fifteen minutes later.
'More wine?'
There was a bottle of red wine on the coffee table in front of them. Paula nodded and Angela refilled their glasses.
'And how's business?' Paula asked.
'Very good. I think I've sold two more flats in this new development. One more, and we've sold the whole block. That's another bonus. And another dinner with the boss.'
Paula laughed. 'Have you shown him the treatment room yet?'
'Not yet. But I was very strict with him the other day. He really got turned on by it and so did I.'
'Sounds like the perfect match.' Paula sipped her wine. 'Come on, looking at you is making me randy. If we don't go in there soon I'll rape you right here.'
Paula lowered her feet into the high-heeled ankle-boots, picked up the small nylon holdall she had brought with her, then got up and helped Angela to her feet. They walked down the hall to the treatment room. Angela took a deep breath, smiled at her friend then opened the door.
'Good evening,' she said. 'I hope we haven't kept you waiting.'
Archie was standing in the middle of the room between the two posts. Angela had suspended a long metal bar from the ceiling at the level of his shoulders and strapped his arms along it at right-angles to his body. His legs were bound together by more straps at his ankles, knees and thighs. He was naked but for a tight leather helmet that covered his whole head, though it had slots for his mouth and eyes. He had agreed to pay the money, on condition that Angela masked his face and did not tell her friend who he was.
'May I introduce Paula?'
Archie's eyes stared at the brunette appreciatively as she walked over to him. She ran her hand down his chest and tweaked his nipple, then slapped it against his cock, which was already beginning to engorge.
'Good evening,' she said. 'Can't you do any better than this?' She slapped his cock again. It was springing to attention rapidly now. 'That's better,' she said. She took it in her hand and began wanking it slowly up and down.
'He's on punishment,' Angela said. 'He's not allowed to come.'
'Punishment. How interesting. I love punishing men.'
'Be my guest.'
Paula walked back across the room and Angela saw Archie's eyes staring at her big oval buttocks, tightly covered in the black PVC. The catsuit was so tight the material had buried itself right up between her legs. She put the nylon holdall on top of the chest of drawers, unzipped it and fished inside. She came out with a tear-shaped piece of metal about the size of a golf ball. It was attached to a leather strap by a six-inch chain. Angela remembered she had seen it before. 'This will make him more comfortable.'
She lifted Archie's erection and wound the strap under his balls and around the base of his shaft. He moaned as she let go of the weight and it bobbed against his thighs. She flicked it with her fingers so it swung from side to side, like a pendulum.
'Much better,' Angela said. She was wearing a silk translucent robe. She unknotted the belt and slipped it off. Underneath she wore one of Mrs Beatty's leather creations, a tightly waisted merry widow corset with a quarter-cup bra supporting but not hiding her firm breasts. It was made from the subtlest white leather, and was laced up the front with black satin laces. Its long white satin suspenders supported flesh-coloured stockings, pulling their deep welts into chevrons that banded her thighs. Her four-inch heels were made from white patent leather.
'A crop tonight, I think,' Paula said, going back to the chest of drawers and picking up Angela's riding crop.
'And a tawse. Why don't we give him a taste of both?'
Angela smiled. She was enjoying herself. She was in her element. The sight of Archie bound so helplessly and the anticipation of having Paula again, of feeling her voluptuous body pressed into hers, was making her tingle. She picked up the leather tawse.
'Who's going to go first?' Paula said.
'Let him choose,' Angela suggested. She had grown fond of Archie over the last few weeks. He was always excessively polite, had never treated her with anything but consideration and courtesy, and had always thanked her profusely for what she had done. She could see that he was actually trembling with excitement. He had no doubt dreamt about this fantasy for a long time and had never dared do anything about it before. 'Who is it to be, Archie?'
'Mistress Paula,' he said.
'Good choice,' Paula said. 'I think we'd better gag him. We don't want any complaints from the neighbours. He looks to me the type who makes a lot of noise.' Paula went back to her holdall and took out a thick rubber strap. Attached to the inside of the strap was a tongue-like piece of black rubber. Unceremoniously, she crammed the tongue into Archie's mouth, then strapped the rubber around his head.
'Ready?' she said.
He nodded his head.
Paula walked behind him. She ran the leather loop at the tip of the whip all the way down his back from his neck to his buttocks, then all the way back up again, then slowly raised her arm. Thwack. The sound of leather on flesh echoed around the small room. Thwack. Archie cried out loud but the sound was muffled by the gag. Thwack.
Angela watched his reactions. His body was shaking like a leaf in the wind. She was always amazed at the effect pain had. Archie's cock was rigid now, every vein prominent, and his eyes were blazing with excitement. He was trying to free himself from the straps that bound his arms - not, she knew, because he wanted to escape, but because the feeling of constriction added to his arousal. A tear of fluid had formed at the slit of his cock.
'Now we can have a scientific experiment,' Angela said. 'The tawse compared with the whip.'
She walked around the other side of him. His backside was red raw, with four deep weals, one almost purple, cutting across his flesh. The other shadowy weals, the result of the beating she had given him last week, were also more pronounced now.
Paula smiled at her and kissed her lightly on the mouth, her hand gently caressing her breast. 'You look good enough to eat,' she said.
'Promises, promises.'
Angela raised the tawse and slashed it down across Archie's buttocks. The noise it made was quite different from the whip, a lower, swishing sound. But Archie's whole body shuddered and he gasped into the gag.
'Four more, I think.'
Each blow made his buttocks quiver. Each produced a gasp of pain. Each increased the tension in his body visibly, his cock jerking up against the weight that was attached to it.
'And one for good luck.' Angela raised the tawse and slashed it down across the meat of his buttocks with all her might. The whipping had excited her quite as much as it evidently had excited Archie. She felt her sex squirming.
'That's quite enough.' Paula had walked around in front of Archie and was examining him carefully. She took his glans between her thumb and forefinger and pinched it so hard it went white.
'Shall we blindfold him now?' Angela asked.
'Nooo...' Archie tried to say desperately, shaking his head. Being deprived of sight was not part of his fantasy.
Angela stood besi
de her friend, putting her arm around her waist. 'No, let him watch.' She pushed her hand into the diamond slit of Paula's catsuit and cupped her large breast, Paula's flesh felt deliciously warm and soft. Gently, she rolled Paula's nipple between her fingers. The brunette moaned, then turned towards Angela and kissed her lightly, licking her lower lip with her tongue.
'Let's get more comfortable,' Paula whispered. She pulled away. The PVC catsuit had two zips. One ran from the collar to the top of the diamond cut-out, and the other from the bottom of the cut-out right down into her crotch. Paula unzipped the top zip and pulled it down, then wriggled her arms out of the tight sleeves. In the process her breasts escaped.
Angela saw Archie's cock twitch as his eyes took in the spectacle.
Paula pulled off her boots and slid the second zip down, wriggling out of the rest of the garment, the tight PVC clinging to her body. She wrestled it over her hips and down her legs. Underneath she was wearing jet-black crotchless tights, the whole area of her sex including her mons exposed, neatly framed by the opaque nylon. The nylon was so shiny it looked like wet paint.
'They're very sexy,' Angela said.
'He thinks so too,' Paula said. Archie was staring at Paula's mons.
Paula went to the holdall and took out a torpedo-shaped vibrator, made from cream plastic. 'I thought this might come in useful.'
Angela laughed. She went to the top drawer of the chest of drawers and took out an almost identical device in pink. 'Snap,' she said.
She wrapped her arms around Paula and kissed her on the lips again, this time crushing their bodies together. With her in the white high heels while Paula was barefoot, they were almost the same height and she could feel the pulpy flesh of their breasts ballooning out against each other. She ran her hand down over Paula's nylon-sheathed buttocks, caressing the malleable flesh.
'God, I want you,' she whispered.
'Take me, then,' Paula replied.
Which is exactly what she did. She took hold of Paula's hand and pulled her over to the bed. They sat on the edge of it and kissed again, noisily, their mouths sucking and licking at each other, their tongues dancing together. Angela's hand crushed Paula's breast back against her chest and Paula did the same to her.
