The Collector (6 page)

Top shelf magazines are always worth a read. Not the stories or the photographs necessarily, but the editorials and the names of the staff that put them together. Outside the exaggerated imaginings of their monthly publications, they often have their own research to do. Many of these journalists’ experiences are exactly the sort of thing I look for.

Karen had worked for
Erotique Magazine
for twelve months. From standard brothels to punishment dens, from S&M clubs to fantasist’s alien sex parties, she’d seen and reported from them all. So when Karen’s editor asked her to write an article about a new venture he’d come across, she agreed without hesitation.

Fastening the tops of her stockings, Karen took some deep breaths. She was gearing herself up to be a professional reporter, and not just a voyeuristic onlooker. It was no good entering into these situations, only to be overtaken by personal lust. Although Karen had begun to wonder if perhaps she hadn’t become rather too good at putting her own needs to the back of her mind. Recently she’d noticed that she could watch a woman being licked out by a probing tongue, or a man being whipped until he screamed and shot his load from his body, without so much as a hardened nipple.

Her last two boyfriends had both commented on this hardness of heart, her pleasure being almost impossible to bring off. Karen knew her reaction to pornography and the act of sex in general had changed, becoming almost mundane. Still, she loved her job. It was worth it. Most of the time.

Karen checked her watch, almost 10pm. The class was due to start at 10.30. She should leave. Hoisting her long auburn hair into a pony tail, she examined her appearance in the hall mirror. Not too business-like; she’d rejected her suit jacket in favour of a soft lilac cashmere sweater, but held onto the suit trousers and medium heels for the required professional gloss.

As Karen settled into the back of the cab she’d hailed, she produced the evening’s brief out of her shoulder bag.
“The Executive School. A safe and friendly environment to expand those lost skills of fulfilment.”
That was all the flyer said. Her editor, Charles, hadn’t been able to expand that much. He’d just heard that the education dished out was based on sexual fulfilment and that, as their readers were always in pursuit of new techniques, it would be worth a look. He’d arranged it all he said, and they were expecting her.

Her mobile phone buzzed in her bag.
‘Karen?’
‘I’m just on my way Charles, don’t worry.’
‘I thought I’d better come clean before you got there.’ Charles

Karen was immediately suspicious. ‘What do you mean? Come clean about what?’
‘You aren’t going along to report, well not just to report. You’re going in undercover. As far as the class are concerned, you’re one of them.’
‘WHAT?!’ Karen shouted down her phone, causing the cab driver to look around in concern.
Charles elaborated. ‘You are to join in and write about the experience afterwards.’
‘Join in?’ Karen spoke slowly, not quite believing what she was hearing. ‘Exactly what am I joining in?’
‘Look honey, this job gets to people. I should know, I’ve been doing it along time. Too much exposure and not enough action, it’s bad for you to forget what it’s like to feel. You can become desensitised if you’re not careful.’
Karen could almost hear her last boyfriend’s words as her editor spoke.
‘Charles, I really don’t want…’
‘You’ll love it.’
‘But I can’t! Watching, being apart from it is one thing, but honestly,’ Karen dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘What if they want me to take my clothes off?’
‘Lucky them.’
‘Charles!’
‘Karen. This has cost the company big,’ Charles put his chief editor’s voice back on. Do not waste our money. I want a full, indepth, personalised report written tomorrow morning.’
‘But…’
‘The man you report to is called Mark. He thinks you are a bored divorced career woman who wants a bit of pep to her life.’
‘How dare…’
‘AND,’ Charles raised his voice to stem her flood of complaints. ‘He thinks you are loaded. The fees he charges, you’d have to be. Call me the second it’s over.’ He hung up.
Sweat prickled across Karen’s palms. She was a reporter, not a participant. No one ever gave Kate Adie a gun and told her to go shoot someone to see how it felt for God’s sake. She read the flyer again. It still said nothing.
The taxi pulled up outside the hotel where the class was to be held. Karen paid the driver with shaking hands and stood, uncertain, on the pavement. She could run, but she really didn’t want Charles to sack her. Maybe she should blow her cover and ask to be a casual observer. Or perhaps, a small voice nagged at her from the back of her mind: ‘
You might enjoy yourself. It might help you to remember the point of all this stuff you write. The magazine was designed to turn people on for heaven’s sake; why not you?’
Taking another calming breath, she marched into the foyer, headed to Reception, and asked for the Fountain Suite. Karen chanted silently under her breath, ‘I’m a reporter. I’m a professional. I can be involved without being truly involved, I CAN do this.’ She pushed her shoulders back, stood up straight and headed to the door of the suite.
Her tentative knock caused the door to be opened by a young woman, beyond which stood a well built middle-aged man. Mark, she presumed. He was accompanied by two men and one other woman. Instant partners. Karen’s stomach contracted with nerves, she felt like a high class hooker on her first hit.
‘Welcome, welcome. You must be Karen.’ Mark’s infusive greeting made her feel more, rather than less, scared, as the door attendant ushered her over to the others. They had “money” written all over them. Designer clothes, designer jewellery, good shoes, yet they also had that “alone after thirty” quality about them. ‘So,’ Karen thought to herself, ‘
This is a class of people who’ve been business professionals for so long that they’ve forgotten how to let go. And I’m one of them. Shit.’
Whilst coats were taken and hung up, and introductions made and forgotten, Karen looked about her. Comfortable sofas lined the walls of the warm subtly lit room, a huge double bed sat knowingly in the corner of the room, and cushions covered the luxury carpeted floor.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Mark spoke softly but with command. ‘I would like to thank you for coming here tonight, and for your continued discretion upon leaving us when the session is complete.’ Karen felt his eyes focus on her; did he already know she was detailed to report on all she discovered here?
Mark brushed a lightly greying hair out of his face and continued. ‘Reasons of financial success bring you here tonight. You all, according to your personal statements, have no trouble attracting partners, yet you are unable to let yourself go enough to enjoy or provide enjoyment once you and they are, shall we say,
in flagrante delicto
.’
Karen didn’t have time to wonder what statement Charles had concocted on her behalf as Mark continued. ‘We will begin with mere observation. My assistant Amy,’ he gestured to the young lady who had opened the door, ‘has kindly agreed to help me with the initial demonstration.’
No more than 23-years-old, petite with shoulder length dyed bright red hair, Amy smiled with the arrogant confidence of someone who knows their body is perfect. Karen, trying and failing to remain professional, hated her already.
Classical music began to play in the background, as Mark invited the students to kick off their shoes and sit on the cushions. Amy walked before them and, on an indication from Mark, began to slowly unbutton her blouse. It wasn’t a striptease as such, but it was certainly staged to titillate the viewer. Karen’s practiced eye noticed the almost instant swelling within the two pairs of trousers either side of her.
As Amy’s flawless stomach appeared from beneath her white blouse, Karen heard the other woman gasp. All were rapt upon the girl, except for her, she watched the watchers. That was when it dawned on her. There was a beautiful woman standing before her in stockings, suspenders, a minimal bra and thong, and she felt nothing. Not a thing. Her mind was too full of how she’d record the spectacle on the pages of her magazine. Could Charles have been right? Had she forgotten how to feel? Had she pushed professional detachment too far?
The next few moments passed without Karen taking in what was happening. She was vaguely aware that Mark was standing next to Amy, showing the group how to caress a girl’s breast and receive a more than satisfactory response. Karen was snapped out of her introspection by a mewing sound issuing from Amy’s lips. She wanted to believe that it was fake, but the girl’s tits were swelling beneath their silk covering, and there was no denying the slight damp patch that was creeping across her satin thong. Tension hung in the room as there, in front of them, Amy came, rocking beneath Mark’s gentle but decisive touch.
‘Karen, are you with us?’ Mark was looking at her. ‘You were miles away.’
Karen realised that her female counterpart had her blouse off and the men were looking nervously, but hungrily, at her. Was she supposed to be taking her top off too?
Mark’s voice broke through her thoughts. ‘Come on, there’s little you can learn without practice. Top off, I’m sure you will find this a rewarding experience.’
There seemed little point in protesting, so she pulled off her jumper, revealing her unfussy cream silk bra. Instantly, despite the warmth of the room, goose pimples appeared on her skin.
‘In order to heighten the sensations I will blindfold the women. The men will then draw straws for you, not that there is a short straw I hasten to add.’ Mark chuckled at his own joke, everyone else was too focused on what was about to happen to make a sound.
Amy approached with two black velvet masks, and before Karen could protest, she found herself slipped into darkness as she sat on the soft cushioned floor wishing she’d been paying attention to what Mark had shown the others. Seconds later, tentative fingers begin to stray across her encased nipples, and rubbed her hidden areoles. She tried hard to concentrate on the feelings themselves and forget about how she was going to write them down.
Karen could hear the woman sat next to her beginning to sigh. Should she be sighing too? The unknown fingers began to brush the tips of Karen’s nipples, which responded by tightening beneath the silk. It felt good and she didn’t want it to end, but as the woman next to her changed her sighs to cries of ‘Oh my God!’ and was obviously climbing fast into ecstasy, her own partner gave up and his hands moved away.
She could hear whispers and then Mark’s voice saying, ‘Slightly more direct action perhaps.’ Karen could almost feel the heat of their eyes; she knew they were all looking at her. Her insides squirmed at the thought, she was the one who observed and analysed, not the other way around.
Karen’s skin jumped as the cups of her bra were pushed beneath her chest. It felt good to be free of the tight material and even better when a set of fingers returned to her flesh. Karen closed her eyes under her blindfold and focused on the sensations. The slow ignition she needed was just starting to spark her body into life when her partner gave an audible sigh of defeat.
The blindfold was removed and Karen blinked against the light, before taking in the faces before her. She coloured violently and began to babble. ‘I’m sorry, it was lovely, it’s just I…’ She stopped, unable to go on. The man opposite her, presumably her partner, looked crestfallen. ‘It wasn’t your fault, really, it’s me. I’m, well, hard work. Sorry.’
Mark beamed at her. ‘Well done. It takes a lot to admit that you have a problem becoming aroused. I think some relaxation exercises would be of benefit to you, and perhaps us all.’
The group were led over towards the king sized bed. ‘Amy, if you please.’ Mark gestured to the bed. Amy stripped off her remaining clothing, and lay across the bed, face down.
Karen couldn’t think what the other members of the group were doing there. As she glanced at them, each obviously turned on and eager for the next event, they didn’t seem to need any help at all.
Mark, who seemed to be the only one apart from her that wasn’t visibly aroused, began to stroke Amy’s backside. He parted her legs a little and began to run a single finger along and around, but not over, her arsehole. ‘This is a good area to tease. The frustration of not actually touching the opening will aid your partner’s desire.’ He moved his hands from her backside, down her legs, then up again to the small of her back, and on towards her shoulders. ‘Firm movements, but without the intense grip of a thorough massage. It relaxes both you and your partner and is, in itself, very sexy.’
Amy rose from the bed, her body flushed with barely disguised lust. There was no doubt she was one hot babe.
‘Ladies, take your remaining garments off please. If you would prefer not to strip in front of us you may go behind those screens.’ Mark pointed to a small sheltered area in the corner of the room. Karen fled there instantly, followed more slowly by her comrade.
‘What’s your name?’ Karen whispered.
‘Freya. Yours?’
‘Karen. Why are you here? You don’t look like you need any help to me. None of you do.’
‘I can’t speak for the men, but you’re right, I don’t.’ Freya giggled ‘But I’m getting a real kick out of this.’ She laughed at Karen’s expression. ‘I like to look, I like to be watched, and it’s a great opportunity to see other women naked.’
Karen was far more shocked than someone of her profession should have been. ‘So why not just get a girlfriend?’
‘I prefer men, but I like to look at women too.’ Freya threw off her knickers with casual confidence. ‘You’re beautiful by the way.’
Karen froze for a second, feeling even more under scrutiny than she would have done if she’d taken her clothes off in front of the men.
‘Come on honey, get those knickers off.’
With an extreme effort Karen yanked them down and followed her comrade beyond the screen, trying not to smile as Freya instantly shed her air of confidence for her audience. Karen didn’t dare look at the other faces, but could see that their partners were also naked now, and there was no disguising the fact that they liked what they saw.
Laying face down next to Freya, Karen closed her eyes and tried to slow down her heart-beat by taking a deep lungful of air. She could hear Mark speaking quietly. ‘Begin in your own time gentlemen.’
As the soft palms of whichever wealthy office man was smoothing her skin moved up and down her body, Karen felt herself sink into the amazingly soft goose down duvet. Now if she could just stop her mind working overtime she’d get somewhere.
Whilst teasing fingers began to stroke around her firm buttocks, Karen opened her eyes and looked straight into Freya’s, who smiled and mouthed, ‘Isn’t this gorgeous.’
She smiled back at the stunning dark haired woman that lay naked only inches away, and felt the first real stirrings of arousal.
Freya mouthed again, ‘I want to kiss you.’
Karen’s body twitched and she felt the man’s hands move quicker in response. Should she reply? Why not? It was just research anyway, nothing was going to happen. ‘I want to touch you.’ Until she’d mouthed the words, Karen thought she’d made it up, but now the idea of kneading Freya’s soft supple flesh filled her mind, as the stranger’s hands continued to trail across her back, faster, firmer. She didn’t want them to stop.
‘Keep going gentlemen,’ Mark moved closer to the bed. I’m going to test for results.’ He slipped a finger between Freya’s parted legs. ‘Excellent, Freya is very wet. In fact, I would say, she was as horny as hell. You naughty girl Freya.’
Freya giggled in response. She didn’t care if she was found out as a fraud; she was far too high on sensation to worry. Mark moved closer to Karen, her body tensed slightly as she felt his hand slide between her thighs and brush gently against her pussy. It was possibly the most erotic thing that had happened all evening, yet it was over in a second. ‘Karen, that is also good. You’re damp, not wet, but a little more work and you could be almost as rampant as the faker next to you.’ Mark sounded more amused than annoyed that his class was being abused.
‘Tony,’ Mark addressed the man at Freya’s feet. ‘I would like you to try this. I believe Freya would benefit from a modicum of punishment for her bad behaviour.’
From her position on the bed Karen couldn’t see what Mark handed Tony, but the wide hungry eyes that lay next to her, told Karen that the extra attention would be more than welcome, even if it hurt.
The crack echoed around the room, only drowned out by Freya’s yelp, as a whip connected with her buttocks. After two more strokes, Mark announced that he felt confident they could leave Tony and Freya to amuse themselves.
Karen was pulled up by her partner, who quietly introduced himself as Sam, and was led to one of the sofas. Sam’s erection was like an iron rod and Karen wasn’t sure he would be able to wait much longer before his self-control broke.
Mark obviously had the same thought as, after seeing Sam’s discomfort said, ‘Amy I think we may be able to help both Karen and Sam. Would you come here please?’