Agony Aunt (18 page)

Gradually he became aware that she was urging him on, telling him to come now, now, now! She spoke in a mixture of Dutch and English, not even aware of what she was saying. He held her tightly as he plunged in and out, his own excitement building along with hers. When he could hold back no longer, he said, ‘It’s now. Come too, Katrina. Come now,’ as he spurted inside her. Katrina groaned and bore down, squeezing his cock. She threw her head back, the cords in her throat straining as she came.

Then she slumped once more against him. The tension drained from her body slowly. She lay against him, little spasms rippling through her which he felt in his cock. The sounds of the street made themselves heard once again: traffic, passers-by, a boat on the canal hooting at the bridge tender to open up.

Katrina raised her head to look into Tom’s face. ‘You are welcome to Amsterdam,’ she told him seriously. ‘And to me,’ she added.

Tom leant forward and kissed her softly. Holding her face between both his hands, he told her, ‘Thank you,’ as seriously as she had spoken. ‘I’m so glad to be here.’ And he was. Harriet was another problem in another country, and he wasn’t worried about that now. Later, maybe, after the weekend, but not now.

Eventually Katrina got up, standing slowly so that Tom slid out of her gradually. She bent to kiss him softly on the lips: later, she seemed to be saying. We’ll do it again later.

‘Would you like some wine?’ she asked him, moving to open the bottle he had set aside to take her.

Tom got up and fetched glasses for them, setting them on the table before going to the fridge for some of the cheese they had bought earlier. Katrina poured for them as he sliced the Edam. They sat close together, Katrina on the end of the table, Tom on the corner near her. Silently they ate and drank, and when they were done Katrina rose and took his hand.

‘Come. I want you to see the rest of the house. Somehow we didn’t get around to that earlier,’ she said with a smile. She led him down a short hallway. ‘Toilet through there,’ she said as they passed a closed door. Then they were in a long, high-ceilinged room with exposed rafters and long skylights. ‘The whole place is like this,’ she told him. ‘My friend wanted to keep the original beams exposed. It gives character to the house, and the skylight is essential to light the room. No windows, you see. There is another old warehouse like this on either side.’

Polished wooden flooring gleamed between the colourful rugs scattered around the room. There were comfortable armchairs, a long sofa, a coffee table, and of course the inevitable TV and stereo stack in one corner. The room seemed capable of being endlessly rearranged, the only permanent fixtures being the row of bookcases along one wall. At the far end of the room another passageway led towards the front of the house. Katrina led Tom that way. ‘Guest bedroom there,’ she told him as they passed. ‘And here,’ she said, opening the door, ‘is the main bedroom.’

Like the sitting room, it had a skylight, but there were also tall windows in the front wall. They overlooked the canal, and Katrina went over to look out. Tom stood behind her, circling her waist with his arms and resting his chin on her shoulder. They looked silently down on the street. It was early evening, and the shadows were lengthening and the waters of the canal darkening.

Katrina leant back comfortably in the circle of Tom’s arms. ‘Mmmmm,’ she said, a sound of contentment, and Tom wondered why Harriet couldn’t be as tractable as this woman. But then she wouldn’t be Harriet, and the contrast between the two women kept him interested in both. Katrina turned to face him, at the same time turning up her face to be kissed. This time it was slow and gentle. All the urgency had been taken away by the fury of their earlier lovemaking. Later, Tom was sure, there would be more urgency, but the calm was nice too.

‘Come, lie on the bed with me,’ Katrina said, breaking away from the embrace.

She lay down and Tom sat beside her. He looked down at her, admiring her clear complexion and the clean lines of her body. Unlike many Dutch girls, she didn’t have apples in her cheeks, and she was tall and slender. He had admired her legs from their first meeting, and now he lifted her skirt to the tops of her thighs so he could look at them again. He ran his hand gently from her knees to the tops of her shiny white stockings, liking the contrasting texture where smooth nylon became warm flesh.

‘Trying to start something?’ Katrina asked him, stretching like a cat under the caress of his hands.

‘Can’t a bloke simply admire a woman without bringing sex into it?’

‘Is that what you were doing? Admiring? Go on then. I think I can stand that for a bit.’

Tom lay down beside Katrina and she rolled over into his arms. She closed her eyes and appeared to go to sleep. Tom felt drowsy as well. He closed his eyes.

He woke up in a dark room. He had no idea how long he had slept, but Katrina was no longer beside him. He sat up hurriedly, but relaxed when he heard the clatter of dishes and cutlery from the back of the house. The smell of sausages being grilled came to him, and he got up to follow his nose.

As he entered the passageway leading to the kitchen there was a loud crash and a fervent ‘
Verdomme
!’ from Katrina. Her back was turned towards the door and she was picking up the pieces of a broken plate, but it wasn’t the plate that grabbed his attention. Except for a short apron, Katrina was stark naked, and Tom had a clear view of her long legs and firm bottom as she stooped over.

‘I wish I’d brought my Polaroid camera. This is too good to miss.’

Without looking round Katrina said, ‘If you were a gentleman you would offer to clear this up for me. I might get a sliver of glass in my foot.’ There was a smile in her voice that took away any hint of vexation her words may have carried.

Tom noticed then that she was barefooted as well. ‘I’ll clear it up for you. The nudie photos can wait a bit.’

As Katrina straightened up she turned and flashed him a smile. ‘I didn’t mean that, but thanks anyway. The broom is over in that cupboard.’ She pointed to a door beside him. ‘I suppose you English would call this tea, but I was going to surprise you with supper in bed, served hot by a girl in the same condition. You woke too early. And I forgot that cooking in the nude has its own special dangers. I was turning the sausages when a bit of grease popped out. Of course it landed squarely on my left tit, so of course I dropped the plate.’

Tom found the broom and a dustpan in the cupboard. He also noticed a coil of braided nylon rope, which might have been used for a linen line except for the fact that it was new, and several handy lengths had been cut from it. He suspected that Katrina had got it some time before his arrival – unless her friend was also into B&D. Possible but unlikely, he thought, as he swept the glass into the pan.

Katrina took the sausages from the grill and set them on the table. ‘Since you are up, we might as well eat here. I will set the table while you get undressed. We can call this “The Naked Supper”. Or tea, if you insist.’

‘I accept the kind offer.’ Tom began to undress, laying his clothes on a chair. When he too was naked he got a bottle of wine from the fridge. He saw a pair of candlesticks – with candles – on the top shelf of the bureau, and he set these on the table and lit them. Then he turned out the lights and turned to admire Katrina, illuminated in the soft wavering light. The play of candlelight and shadow on smooth naked skin flattered her and made the setting more romantic. ‘You look lovely,’ he told her as she moved about the room setting out their food. ‘Nudity becomes you.’

Katrina smiled but said nothing. She sat down and beckoned him to join her, and they ate grilled sausages with fresh crusty bread and a salad. There was an impromptu air to the meal that made it seem like an adventure. The candlelight and the promise of more sex in the near future kept them laughing and joking. Then, when the meal was finished and there was no reason to postpone the promised dessert, they found reasons to prolong the suspense anyway. This was partly due to a genuine desire to maintain the sexual tension, and partly – Tom was sure – because Katrina wanted to enliven their adventure with bondage and didn’t want to be the one who brought it up. Even the most relaxed lovers have their hang-ups.

Tom relieved her of the burden by bringing the rope from the broom closet to the table.

Katrina looked up with a tremulous smile. ‘Are you a mind reader?’

‘No. I saw the rope in the closet earlier, and I know you. It wasn’t too hard to put two and two together. Let’s clear the table – unless you fancy love among the dishes.’

‘Here?’ Katrina looked dubious.

‘Yes, unless you really object.’

‘No. I . . . just did not . . . the idea never occurred to me.’ Katrina got up and began to move the remains of the meal from the table to the sink.

Tom helped, and when the table was cleared he helped Katrina climb on top of it. Then he made her lie on her back, while he tied her wrists to two of the legs, and her ankles to the remaining two. ‘Not very original, I know,’ Tom said as he finished. ‘I promise I’ll try to come up with something better next time.’

‘Does this mean that there will be a next time?’ Katrina asked.

‘Count on it. And a time after that, and another after that – for as long as we both can manage. We have to do something to stave off boredom. But let’s concentrate on the present. I enjoyed the supper you made for us. It’s time for me to provide the dessert.’

‘What will we have?’

‘I’ll have you, and you’ll have fun while I do.’ Tom turned away to search the cupboards, opening one after another until he found what he wanted. With a grunt of satisfaction he came back to the table with a jar of honey. He held it up to the light to judge the contents. ‘It looks as if there will be enough for the job,’ he said.

Katrina watched silently as he removed the lid and upended the jar over her breasts. The syrupy liquid flowed slowly, but eventually a large blob landed on her right breast. Tom moved the jar until it was above her left breast, and dropped another blob on to that one. He set the jar within easy reach on the table and began to massage the honey into Katrina’s breasts, paying particular attention to her nipples.

They swiftly became erect with her excitement. The sticky liquid gleamed in the candlelight as he worked over her, and when her breasts were covered, he bent to lick the honey off. Katrina began to breath rapidly. When his tongue flicked at her nipples, she gasped loudly and jerked against the ropes that held her. She began to twist her body on the table top as her excitement built, but she always came up against the tension of her bonds. It was evident that being tied helpless aroused her greatly, as Harriet and Tom had discovered during her first visit.

Suddenly Katrina tensed, making a soft mewling sound as she came. Tom continued to arouse her slowly, intending to prolong her pleasure as long as he could. He watched closely, judging when to go faster or slower by the clenching of her fists as she came, the relaxation of her body afterwards, or the slow, unconscious twisting of her head as she was approaching orgasm. Above all, he listened to the sounds she made.

When he judged she was ready he shifted his attention from her breasts to her cunt. First he dipped his forefinger into the jar of honey. Then he smeared it over her labia, repeating the process until they were thoroughly coated. Last of all he covered her clitoris with honey. At that point Katrina reacted strongly, tensing her entire body as he touched her most sensitive spot.

‘Ahhhhhhh!’ There was a long sigh of pleasure as he massaged her gently, pausing to lick the honey from her labia and then returning to her clitoris. He slid one finger inside her, finding her wet and parted, her flesh hot to the touch. Katrina’s eyes were closed and she was once more twisting her head from side to side as the tension built up again. Then she came, arching her back and thrusting her hips upward to meet Tom’s finger. He felt her vaginal muscles contract around it, and wished briefly that it was his cock. His erection brushed Katrina’s leg as he moved, and she moaned softly.

‘Come inside me, Tom! Please. Come inside me now!’ she said in a tense whisper.

But he continued to arouse her with his hands and fingers, alternating between her breasts and her clitoris, and Katrina went wild, twisting and jerking as she came again. The ropes were cutting into her wrists and ankles as she pulled against them in her frenzy. Tom continued to arouse her, driving her past the point of no return again and again. Her cries were continuous now, rising to a shriek as her orgasms took her and subsiding to a low moaning between peaks.

Only when he had driven her beyond control did Tom mount her. He climbed on to the table top and eased himself between her thighs, guiding his cock into her and sliding effortlessly into the warm slippery flesh. As he slid home he felt the sticky honey clinging to her pubic hair. Soon it was clinging to his as well as he moved slowly over her. He felt Katrina bearing down on his cock with her vaginal muscles.

Tom knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out for very long. Katrina was even wilder than the first time, and it had to be the added excitement of being tied down to the table that inflamed her imagination. Tom could understand that. When it was Harriet administering her own peculiar brand of discipline to him, he felt the same wild excitement, knowing that he couldn’t influence what she was doing to him.

He was excited by the spectacle of this beautiful young woman, bound helplessly and thrashing beneath him as she came. He pushed aside the thoughts of Harriet and concentrated on Katrina. And he came abruptly, surprising himself by the strength of his reaction.

Katrina came again too, just as he was finishing, a long shuddering that made her cry out again before she slumped back on to the table, her muscles loose and her body sweaty under him. Tom lay briefly on top of her, taking his weight on his forearms as he recovered. He looked down at Katrina’s face, which was turned to one side, the fine hair matted with her perspiration. He bent to kiss her earlobe, and then the hollow of her throat, feeling the pulse there with his lips. Like many European women, Katrina didn’t shave her armpits, and the hair there was damp as well. He moved until he could kiss her under one arm, nuzzling gently and inhaling her perfume.