by Henry Morgan
They leered as though they’d just walked into a pub serving free ale, waited for the other to make the first move, and when Kev moved awkwardly behind Kimberly Charlie mirrored him and stood self-consciously behind Stephanie.
Kev looked at the beautiful woman before him, then at the three men watching, and then back at Kimberly. He took a deep breath, leaned over her, and stuffed the napkin into her mouth. Charlie was doing exactly the same a split second behind.
Both girls spat indistinguishable swear words through the cloth and twisted their heads away, but David sensed they had little real desire to dislodge the youths; they were enjoying the game as much as anybody else there in the room.
David smiled; neither Richard nor Craig could sit still. Both were clearly unaware of their own excited fidgeting, or anything else in the room apart from their wives and the two lucky caterers.
He turned his attention back to the show. Both lads looked slightly ridiculous with their trousers now around their ankles, their naked hairy and unhealthily white legs, and their twitching penises jutting at forty-five degrees from just below the hems of their off-white caterers’ T-shirts. Kev was carefully greasing his erection with the wrapper, and when he looked satisfied he threw it across the tabletop for his mate to do the same. His hand then slipped between Kimberly’s buttocks and his fingers disappeared from view. From the way her head bucked David knew he was making sure her entrance was well and truly oiled. True to form, Charlie followed his example and did the same to the panting Stephanie.
For some reason the lads stopped with their hands tightly gripping the girls’ hips and their bursting helmets pressed against their lubricated sphincters, and looked to David, apparently for approval to proceed. It amused him that the approval of the husbands was not sought. He felt like an emperor considering the fate of a Christian. He paused, enjoying the power, and then nodded once.
He watched the enthralled faces of his two partners as two pairs of hairy buttocks tensed, and then two turgid erections slid slowly from view. He watched beads of sweat burst onto his partners’ temples as the two females arched slowly in unison and their perspiring breasts lifted off the table.
He was delighted with his achievement.
Finally he looked at his watch; it was late, and he had nothing more to do here. He rose and went into the hall to ring for a taxi. Nobody noticed him leaving.
13.
A month of scanning the property press brought nothing but disappointment for David, although he knew finding a suitable place was not going to be an easy task. He wanted complete privacy with accessibility, somewhere secluded where he and his pupil were the only two people left in the world. The answer to his dreams lay on page two of the Cornish Property News:
For Sale. Ex residence of former sea captain on Cornish coast. Near Tintagel. Some renovation required. Very quite location.
After driving all morning David finally stood in front of the old run-down house and laughed.
‘Some renovation required. Who on earth writes your sales blurb?’
The young assistant from the estate agent looked suitably embarrassed. ‘We have nearly all the original furniture in storage, Mr Harper,’ she said. ‘I’m sure we can come to a very agreeable arrangement for its sale should you decide to purchase.’ The attractive agent was desperate for the unusually remote property to be sold as it had been on the books for quite some time, although she was a little intrigued as to David’s interest. She wasn’t to know of course, but it was perfect for David’s requirements. Even the fact that it was in such a poor state helped because most of the knocking about had already been done for him. The final feature that sold the property was the existence of large cellars, private and soundproofed, and accessible through only one door.
As they descended the steps David felt his excitement mounting. Her perfume permeated the cold dank atmosphere, but David also detected the slight scent of perspiration. He hadn’t noticed it earlier. Perhaps the claustrophobic surroundings and the close proximity to an unknown man at such a secluded spot was having an effect on the young woman from Tintagel. In the dim half-light she suddenly caught her heel, lost her footing, and stumbled down the last three or four steps. Half-light or not the fluffy pubic triangle she exposed as her legs flew akimbo was clear evidence that this particular estate agent’s assistant conducted her business without knickers.
David unhurriedly helped her to her feet, and then insisted on helping her straighten and dust off her skirt. Her bottom and thighs felt firm and inviting beneath the material. She blushed prettily, both at his unnecessarily intimate touch and at the awareness that her knickerless crotch had been on show for several seconds. The moment passed without further comment, and they surveyed the room for some minutes in silence.
‘Do you feel able to make a decision?’ she asked, and then added in a surprisingly seductive tone, ‘It has wonderful potential, I think you’d agree.’
David smiled and noted the swell of her breasts beneath her figure-hugging blouse; if she only knew just how much potential. He glanced quickly again at her card. ‘Well, Miss Watson.’
‘Alison – please call me Alison.’
‘Well Alison,’ he gave her his most charming smile. ‘I do have a few questions.’
She settled on a rickety old chair. Her skirt rode above her knees, just far enough for David to catch a lovely glimpse of tanned thigh.
‘I can see you’re clearly set on selling the property.’
She parted her knees a tiny bit. ‘I am, Mr Harper,’ she purred. ‘Very set on it indeed. I’m always able to close a sale when I put my mind to it.’
And not just your mind, David mused. ‘Tell me – are there any concessions available?’ More thigh came into view, and her knees parted a little more. The shadow between them and the thought of what lay hidden was breathlessly tantalising. ‘I mean, the commission must be worth quite a bit to you.’
‘I do quite nicely, thank you.’
If the smallest grain of doubt existed in David’s mind that her exposure was accidental she dispelled it by slowly pulling the hem of her skirt up, allowing him a second uninterrupted view of her dark pubis. It was obvious now that her earlier mishap on the stairs was not unintentional. David could picture young Alison taking a tumble down stairs all over Devon and Cornwall in her relentless pursuit of commission payments. Well, he thought, today she would have to work a little harder than usual.
‘Well, I can see you are more than qualified to offer me a good deal. Yet I feel there should be some exchange of goodwill before we talk contracts. Do you think I could examine your qualifications a little closer.’
Miss Watson was enjoying the game. This client was clearly more inventive and less intimidated than most she encountered. She thought briefly of those sad examples who had actually declined her offer to ‘negotiate a deal’. She quickly dismissed those time-wasters from her mind, and pouted at the man standing before her. ‘I see no reason why not, Mr Harper.’ She rose from the chair, unbuttoned her knee-length skirt, and allowed it to slide down her legs as seductively as she could.
‘Very nice,’ David complimented sincerely. ‘Turn around, I want to check there are no hidden clauses on the other side of the agreement.’
‘It’s perfectly clear,’ she replied over her shoulder as she slowly turned. ‘I get the sale – and you get this.’ She wiggled her bottom in sexy invitation.
‘And what exactly does “this” include?’ asked David as he eyed her slender thighs and tight buttocks.
‘You know,’ she answered huskily. ‘The works, here and now; whatever you want.’ She moistened her deep red lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘I’m surprised a man like you needs to ask.’
‘I don’t – it’s just that I might want rather more than you’re prepared to offer.’
She was intrigued. ‘Oh, I’m pretty open-minded.’
‘I might like to spank you.’
‘That’s acceptable as long as you don’t bruise me; my boyfriend would go mad. In fact I sometimes let him do that to me – I quite like it.’
‘What if I want to restrain you a little, just in case you try to run off after we’ve made a deal?’
Slowly but surely the estate agent’s assistant was flying nearer the web; she was giving his proposition careful consideration.
‘Okay – but again, nothing too tight. I don’t want any marks.’
‘Agreed – nothing too tight; no marks.’
Reassured by his comments Miss Watson removed her blouse and unclipped her bra. Her breasts were not large and they displayed a defiance of gravity which David had found in the girls in the east. Once naked she was justifiably proud of her body, and her pride revealed itself in jaunty confidence.
She looked gorgeous in nothing but high-heels. David stopped her from removing them. ‘Okay, the customer’s always right. I suppose you want me bent over something? That’s what my boyfriend usually does.’
Near her feet lay coiled a short length of cement-encrusted rope, and just behind her a carpenter’s horse had been discarded.
‘Not quite yet,’ David said quietly. He picked up the rope and wrapped it around her wrists several times.
‘Mmm – this is actually quite exciting,’ she breathed. ‘Ouch! Not so tight please. Remember what you promised.’
‘I’m sorry? I can’t recall promising anything.’
Miss Watson laughed nervously. ‘You promised you wouldn’t tie me too tight. Ouch! No, that really is tight enough.’
David turned her to face the horse. She teetered a little, and he helped her to kneel. She grimaced as the rubble bit into her knees. He nudged her shoulders and she bent over the wooden horse. Her resistance was minimal, until he wedged a short length of scaffolding pole between her ankles, forcing her legs apart.
‘Please – that’s a bit rough, isn’t it?’
In a cold voice David warned: ‘It might get rougher.’
‘Look,’ she stammered, the tremble of doubt evident in her throat. ‘I thought you’d just want to screw me. That’s what the customers usually do. I don’t mind that at all. I’ll even do it with lady customers if I have to. I’ll do it with your wife if it helps – Arghh!’
David’s ruthless hand drove the wind right out of her lungs. The pronounced imprint rose on her left buttock before she had even regained her breath. He gave her a moment to recognise her predicament. She wasn’t a naïve girl by any stretch of the imagination – quite the opposite in fact – but she had allowed her greed to blind her from potential danger. Tethered and naked, miles from anywhere, and with a man she hadn’t met until this morning, was not how she had expected the day to pan out. Sure she was prepared to screw if it meant getting the sale, but she had stupidly allowed this situation to get out of hand. She’d thought she was the one in control – she now realised she was wrong.
The hand swept down a second time, connecting firmly with the other buttock. She rocked against the horse and shrieked. Nobody would hear her, but David removed a hanky from his pocket and stuffed it between her teeth anyway. He then administered several more slaps until he was satisfied her bottom was stinging nicely. As Miss Watson writhed and whimpered he left her for a moment to seek a better tool for the job, and to give his hand a rest. He quickly found what he was looking for; a length of three inch by one inch planed pine batten.
With each measured stroke David felt his cock swell and harden. He didn’t really want to cause problems for her with her boyfriend, so he held back somewhat. When he saw her bottom squirm he knew it was time to exchange contracts.
He dropped the batten and knelt behind the softly glowing twin mounds. His trousers were quickly opened and his erection bobbed proud and free. He removed the scaffold pole and shuffled forward. Gripping her shoulder in one hand he pressed his shining helmet into her wet lips, and slowly pulled her back into his lap.
Miss Watson arched and groaned her delight through the white cotton in her mouth. She gripped his length and worked her hips with delightful expertise. David ground against her and watched her pink buttocks ripple. He was quickly approaching his climax, and knew she was too; it was time to complete the deal. He pressed hard and ejaculated as she shuddered and groaned loudly. David was impressed; she certainly performed her job well. He hoped her boss appreciated what a conscientious employee he had.
Alison Watson smiled as she dressed. ‘It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr Harper. I think I ought to throw in the furniture too.’
As she unlocked her car in the sunshine outside she turned and gave David a little kiss on the cheek. ‘If you’re ever looking to buy another property, be sure to give me a ring.’
There was a lot of work to be done which wasn’t helped by the location of the house. All the building materials had to be brought down from a small parking area at the top of the cliff. It was hard work, which for the main part David did alone. The only thing he couldn’t manage was the manufacture of his equipment for the training room. He could purchase some from certain suppliers, but the contraptions he had seen in the International Club he had built specially.
It raised several eyebrows when he went to pick them up, but he didn’t hang around for questions once he’d paid the bills. The rest of the house was easy to renovate after he’d seen the furniture; he simply rebuilt it in the style of the time. In fact, if the captain who once occupied the house had walked in now, he would recognise the place instantly.
Halfway through the work Richard phoned to tell him that someone was interested in buying his share of the practice. He also asked how long it would be until David would be accepting clients.
‘Someone at the club is asking about a training school for his wife,’ he told David. ‘I told him I knew of someone, and he’s very interested.’
‘Give him my number,’ said David. ‘Two more weeks and I’ll be ready – make it three to be on the safe side.’
It took just under three weeks before he could honestly say that no more work needed to be done. It was a time to relax and enjoy the results of his labours, but the peace was immediately shattered by the shrill insistence of the telephone.
‘Mr Harper?’ said an enquiring voice at the end of the line. ‘My name’s Johnson – Simon Johnson. A mutual friend gave me your name and number.’
‘Richard?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Yes, he said you were going to phone. Did he tell you anything about the terms?’
‘Not a lot,’ said Simon Johnson. ‘He mentioned a few things, but said it was best to come straight to you.’
‘Well, it’s a thousand a week, and your wife will be here for a month at least. We can discuss any personal requirements on your part when we meet, but I’ll have to have a disclaimer from you and your wife, for my own protection. It is your wife, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ answered Simon Johnson. ‘That all sounds fine. When can you fit her in?’
‘Saturday,’ said David. ‘I’ll post the directions first thing in the morning. That’ll give you a day to consider it further and make a final decision. What’s your address?’
David went back to his sitting room, poured a very large scotch, and sat in his chair that looked out to the Atlantic. It took the rest of the evening to finish the drink, sip by nervous sip. His first customer was on her way!
The next day he dropped the letter into the old post office in Tintagel and stocked up with groceries. He needed quite a bit because after Saturday he would not leave the house for at least three weeks.
The next two days he spent putting the finishing touches to his timetable of events. She would learn her lessons a stage at a time, and it was important to show her husband that there was method in his madness. Training females for the pleasure of their men wa
s not to be undertaken lightly; it was a science, it had form.
14.
Time seemed to stretch on that Saturday – it certainly felt like the longest morning ever. David even made two breakfasts; one to satisfy his hunger, the other to use up precious minutes.
With a loud clatter the heavy doorknocker announced their arrival. David jumped. The time had come for him to put all that experience from building eleven and the International Club to good use.
Simon Johnson was a man in his mid-forties; his wife Emily had obviously not reached half that age.
‘Come on in,’ he greeted them with a smile. ‘Make yourselves at home – a cup of tea?’ He was gushing his words, but it was hard to stop the adrenaline rush. Somehow he had to sound more confident and less inexperienced. He noted Emily was wearing the knee-length dress he had stipulated in his letter, and that stockings clad her shapely legs. That made him feel better, and a little more in control; obviously they were willing to follow his instructions.
‘Please, Simon,’ he pointed to the sofa, ‘have a seat. And Emily, you must sit here at the table.’ Hers was a high-backed Queen Anne chair that insisted upon the correct posture.
He returned with the tea and sat opposite Simon. ‘You’ve given it all careful consideration?’
Simon nodded. ‘It’s what we both want. Isn’t it darling?’
‘Yes,’ Emily said quietly.
‘Are those her things?’ asked David, reaching to pick up a small valise. Before Simon answered he’d opened the case and examined the contents. All it contained were her cosmetics and a cheung sam; a high-necked round-collared dress with slits at the sides, often worn by Chinese women. Everything else was provided by the house, including boots, shoes, underwear, and any other necessities. It was an expensive wardrobe, hence the price of the training. David returned the valise and then gathered some papers from the davenport. He took them over to the table and sat next to Emily. She visibly stiffened as he pulled back a chair and motioned for Simon to join them.
