His Mistress’s Voice (26 page)

This was another new idea to him. Previously, when Harriet had left him tied up he had merely sat waiting for her to release him. Now he was trying to bring himself to orgasm while tied and gagged. He imagined he was a woman who had been abducted and left bound in a deserted house. The maid’s outfit, and the way it hugged his body, helped the fantasy. Was this what Beth had fantasised about when he had left her tied up in her house? Quite possibly, Tom thought, before he stopped thinking and concentrated on the rush of feeling as he came again inside the corselet and tights.

When he had finished Tom managed to heave himself over onto his side. He could tell from the cool air on his legs that the skirt had ridden up during his struggles. There was nothing to be done about that. In the dark, and with no clock to remind him of the passage of time, Tom couldn’t tell how long Harriet had been gone. Nor would that have helped, because he had no idea how long she intended to be away.

Tom dozed, and woke, and dozed again. Noises upstairs woke him some indeterminate time later. Harriet had evidently returned, but she didn’t appear ready to come downstairs to see how he and Katrina were faring. She gave the impression of having forgotten about them. It must be a calculated effect, he told himself. Harriet wasn’t the absent-minded sort.

Eventually the lights came on, and he heard her familiar tread on the stairs. A few moments later the door opened and Harriet stepped into his cell. She still wore her leather outfit. She moved to the bed and helped Tom to sit up by lifting his legs. The skirt and slip rode up his thighs, and Harriet looked briefly at him before turning abruptly away.

‘Some people have no modesty,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Wait there. I’ll be right back.’

Her last remark was wholly superfluous, but Tom was in no position to reply. Presently she returned with several lengths of rope. Harriet rolled him out of the bed and had him kneel on the floor near one of the legs. With the rope she lashed his knees to the leg of the bed so that he couldn’t get up or move away. Next she tied a length of rope around his neck and fastened it to the opposite side of the bed, so that he was kneeling over it with his bottom in the air. Once more she strode purposefully from the room, and he heard her rummaging amongst her storage cabinets.

It was all terribly reminiscent of his school days, when he was made to bend over prior to a caning. He didn’t have too much trouble guessing what Harriet was going to do next. Tom felt himself getting hard again – something he didn’t remember from his school days.

And indeed when she returned Harriet carried a riding crop. She lifted the skirt and slip up so that there was nothing between him and the leather but the corselet and tights. Wordlessly she began to lash him about the bottom and the backs of his thighs. She was putting considerable effort into each blow, as Tom could tell from the effect at his end. He bent all his efforts to keep from crying out, merely grunting occasionally into the gag, but he did squirm against the bed as she lashed him, liking the feel of his cock rubbing against the tight damp corselet as he moved. He knew he was going to come again unless she stopped soon. Or maybe even if she stopped immediately.

The combination of the tight clothing and the dampness and the pain was driving him toward the brink once more. New things kept happening to him. Tom remembered the earlier lashing, after which Harriet had stopped to fondle him, driving him just to the edge of orgasm before leaving him hanging. It looked as if she intended to drive him over the edge this time.

The next moment she did. Tom wasn’t able to conceal his orgasm and he ground his cock against the side of the bed and groaned as he came. Harriet kept on lashing him until he stopped moving, spent. Did she know what she had done? Tom guessed she knew very well. When she put down the crop he could hear her breathing heavily from her exertions. He couldn’t turn to look at her, but he could imagine her sturdy compact body heaving inside the leather outfit.

‘Disgraceful!’ was all she said, not very convincingly, then turned and left the room again, the sound of her high heels receding.

He imagined it was now Katrina’s turn to feel the lash, and indeed in a few moments he heard the hearty smack of leather meeting flesh as Harriet whipped her. There were choked-back cries after each blow. Evidently Katrina wasn’t as concerned to conceal the pain as he had been. Tom wondered what reason Harriet had for using the crop on Katrina. The programme called for her to discuss her needs with Harriet and to find some way to acquaint Ari with them. Was Harriet maybe not so disinterested in what had passed between Tom and the young Dutch woman as she professed to be? There had been earlier signs of jealousy which Harriet had not been able to hide completely. She might well be working it off by lashing both of them now.

After so much sexual activity Tom felt a pleasant lassitude. And now there was no urgency to do anything at all. Still he wondered when Harriet would get around to untying him so he could get out of the soiled maid’s outfit. No doubt he would have to wash it out before bed time. Otherwise the new outfit would begin to look old before its time. He found himself reluctant to let that happen, on his account, wholly apart from Harriet’s wishes. He thought of it now as his outfit, even though he didn’t know when Harriet might want him to wear it again.

Presently the sounds from the other cell stopped. Tom guessed that Katrina had been lashed as soundly as he had. Harriet came back to free him. She untied the ropes that held him to the bed and then cut away the tie wraps that bound him. As she did so she explained to him the necessity of cutting them from the sliding end, as near to the locking head as possible. In that way, she explained pedantically, they could be used again. Of course on a smaller person. She hoped to get at least two uses out of each one before they had to be thrown away because they were too short. ‘Waste not, want not,’ she explained to him, exactly as if she had just coined the cliche.

‘You’ll have to get out of those clothes now, and wash them out.’ As she once more helped him with the back zipper, Harriet remarked that he really should continue to wear the maid’s outfit because she wanted him to wash Katrina and get her ready for bed. ‘But you’ve spoiled all that now by losing control. We’ll have to get you a more extensive wardrobe so the problem doesn’t arise in future.’

Tom forbore to remark on her own contribution to the spoiling of the outfit. Somehow he knew she wouldn’t appreciate comment along those lines. She might even regard them as an attempt to shift the blame, and add this to the account she was surely keeping. Her remark about a more extensive wardrobe he filed away for future consideration. Evidently there was more of this to come. Tom stripped off the slip, the corselet and the tights.

He crossed to Katrina’s cell and looked in. The Dutch girl was still wearing her thumbcuffs and gag. When she stood up awkwardly he saw that she was also wearing a suit of red stripes on her bottom and the backs of her legs. He imagined it matched his own pretty closely, since both had come from the same source. She was as sweaty and damp as he was. He gave her an encouraging smile which she returned wanly. She appeared to be having second thoughts about what was happening to her, but she said nothing. Tom led Katrina up the stairs, walking behind her in case she stumbled.

Harriet was waiting for them in the living room. ‘About time,’ she said to them when they emerged from the cellar. ‘I was just about to come see what was taking you so long. There’ll be no hanky-panky in this house.’ Considering the source, this was more than a little ironic. Katrina blushed at the words. Harriet noticed, but she only smiled. She removed Katrina’s gag. ‘Off with you now and get clean. You both smell like you were on the receiving end of a golden shower.’

Katrina looked puzzled at the expression.

‘One of our quaint English idioms,’ Harriet explained. ‘It means having someone piss on you, usually for a fee.’

This explanation puzzled Katrina even more. She blushed and asked, ‘But why would anyone pay for that?’

‘Another innocent,’ Harriet remarked. ‘There are all sorts of variations in the sexual game, my dear,’ she said in her best didactic tone. ‘Your wish to be tied up and used sexually is one of them. The golden shower is another. I don’t have time to go into all of them now, but there are many more that are stranger than anything you can imagine. Off you go now, and be sure to wash behind the ears. And the other places.’ She turned away and seemed to forget them.

Tom led Katrina into the bathroom. ‘One of the nice things about nudity,’ he remarked as he adjusted the water temperature, ‘is-that you don’t have to take your clothes off. There are one or two other things as well. I’m looking at two of them just now.’ She registered puzzlement once again. He continued: ‘That was meant as a compliment to present company. And to these,’ he added as he teased her nipples.

Katrina flushed and she leaked a few drops of milk. But she didn’t pull away. ‘You . . . like them?’ she asked shyly.

‘Yes. And the rest of you,’ Tom replied.

‘But what about Harriet? I thought you were . . . lovers. That is the word, no?’

‘Yes, and no. She is the boss – the Mistress to use the title she prefers. I am her assistant. Maybe we’ll become lovers. I don’t know. That’s for her to decide. I’m waiting to see what she will do.’

‘So. You have not . . . slept together?’

‘No,’ Tom admitted. ‘As I said, I’m waiting for her to decide.’

‘It is a, how do you say, a queer relationship, is it not?’

Tom shrugged. ‘We’re working on it. It’s too early to say how things will go.’ As he said these words Tom wished he felt as nonchalant as that.

‘But she does not mind that we . . . before? And maybe again?’

There was a shy eagerness in her manner that made Tom wish he hadn’t spent himself so thoroughly earlier. ‘I don’t think she minds,’ he said, hoping he was right. ‘Not now. We’ve talked about it and she knows what we – you and I – are doing. It’s our problem, not yours. If it is a problem . . . In you go,’ Tom said, ending an awkward conversation before he had to say too much. He helped Katrina into the shower, making sure she didn’t slip while unable to use her hands.

The warm water ran over both of them, washing away the smells that had accumulated during the last few hours. Tom began by soaping Katrina’s rear elevation. As he did so, she leaned suggestively against his hands. ‘Like that, do you?’ he remarked. ‘Wait until I get to the more exciting bits.’ He soaped her back thoroughly and rinsed her before reaching around to do her front.

When he touched her, Katrina said, ‘Would you do what you did before? To my . . . tits? That’s the word, isn’t it? No one has ever done that to me. I really liked it.’

‘Yes, that’s the word. And yes to your request as well,’ Tom replied as he soaped her breasts and began to tease her nipples from behind with both hands.

As her nipples erected she leaned back against him and moaned softly. Abruptly she leaked a few drops, and at that she let out a low growl of pleasure. Katrina was using her hands awkwardly to fondle his cock as it pressed against her bottom. Her thumbcuffs were pressing against the top of his shaft as she caressed him.

Tom didn’t think he could come again so soon after the last time, but he had no objection whatever to what she was doing to him. He thought her gesture showed at least a generous nature.

He felt her shudder as she had a small orgasm. He continued to squeeze her breasts and Katrina moaned her approval. She laid her head back against his chest and he could see her eyes were closed. Gradually she became more frenzied and he could feel the tension in her body as she lay against him. Tom transferred one hand down between Katrina’s parted thighs. When he found her clitoris she let out a loud ‘Oooooohhhhh’ of pleasure.

Tom had a fleeting thought for Harriet. If Katrina got any more demonstrative, she was sure to know what they were doing – if she hadn’t guessed already. The shower was taking an inordinately long time by anyone’s standards. But he was too deeply into what they were doing to stop. He supposed that he should have the courage of his convictions and let Harriet think whatever she liked. The trouble was, Harriet tended to do a lot of her thinking with a riding crop. But he went on. Katrina was having a wonderful time if her shudders and moans were any indication. And she hadn’t forgotten about him. Her hands were busy on his cock.

This time he knew he was going to be a gentleman and make sure his partner came. It looked as if Katrina hadn’t come earlier when Harriet was lashing her, and was now ready for her rewards. He made a mental note to ask her how she reacted to the whipping when there was more time. All in the interests of establishing her limits, of course. No idle, prurient curiosity on his part. But now he had his hands full of nubile woman in full cry. Katrina seemed determined to make up for any lack of sexual opportunity.

Tom alternated between her breasts, trying to make sure each got equal attention. Katrina was leaking milk almost every time he squeezed her, and she was very warm and wet between the legs. Harriet must have heard what was happening, but still she made no appearance. Katrina shuddered and bucked against him as she came again. Suddenly she went limp and her knees gave way. Tom found himself supporting her as she threatened to fall.

It was then that Harriet chose to make her appearance, first as a shadow on the shower curtain like the knife-wielding killer in
Psycho,
and next (as she pulled the curtain back) as the leather-clad dominatrix surprising her charges in a compromising situation. Tom was relieved to see that she was wearing an indulgent smile as well as her severe outfit.

Katrina suddenly became aware that they were not alone. She struggled to get her feet under her and break away from Tom’s embrace. Not that that would have prevented Harriet from drawing the obvious conclusion. She started to speak but Harriet stopped her.