The Mammoth Book of Short Erotic Novels (25 page)

“It’s all right,” breathed Vicki. “Do it harder!”

“Concentrate,” said Amanda firmly. “Make George vanish! Watch him shrink, fade and die.” With each of these words, she laid on another stroke.

The blows were still only enough to redden the surface of her flesh but Vicki was starting to move from side to side now, an enchanting little dance that inspired Amanda to dip her face down to
kiss the lingering smarts better.

John was by now rubbing his erection into Vicki’s legs as he buried his head in her soaking wet mound. He could hear his fevered blood thundering around his body as Vicki begged for Amanda
to continue what she had started.

“Go on!” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

“Very well,” said Amanda, who was still rubbing the chubby red flesh of her bottom with her gloved hand. She could feel the heat from her lightly whipped flesh even through the
velvet gloves. John was kissing and licking Vicki’s thighs now, eager to discover more of her secrets.

“Don’t be greedy, John,” said Amanda rather sharply. She applied gentle pressure on the top of his head to move him back down Vicki’s thighs. She gave him a sharp stroke
of the crop to remind him who was boss, before uncuffing Vicki’s right hand.

“Stroke yourself, dear. And see yourself standing tall. You don’t need a ‘master’.” Amanda kissed her full on the lips as she guided Vicki’s hand to where it
would do the most good. As Vicki grunted and groaned, Amanda looked down at John and arched an eyebrow. It was as if she was saying, “See how close I am to her. Will you ever be as close as I
am?”

John caught the look but had no idea whether she was trying to prove a point or even whether he was merely being paranoid. Besides, the heat and scent of Vicki was rather more important.

“Forget the past,” breathed Amanda, directly into Vicki’s ear. “Cherish yourself. You deserve to be worshipped,” said Amanda. “John! Time to make yourself
useful!” With that, she guided John behind Vicki.

He nuzzled Vicki’s hot bottom gratefully, running his tongue over the soft, silken cheeks.

“Lick her!” commanded Amanda. “Right between the cheeks! Right up and down! That’s it. Now, don’t stop. Or else!”

As this was his heart’s desire, he didn’t exactly need to be told or to be spurred on by the cat o’nine tails. Amanda reddened his flesh for him anyway before using her gloved
fingers to stimulate Vicki. They drifted together, onwards and upwards, until the trivial matter of who was dominating whom had ceased to be relevant.

The air in the cellar was heavy with incense. Candles at floor level provided an eerie, flickering light which barely illuminated the darkness in which Amanda and Vicki stood.
They were close enough to kiss. Close enough to be aware of the scent of each other’s bodies. Close enough to whisper into each other’s ears. Every now and again, they would look over
at John, who was kneeling in the corner, naked.

He spent a good deal of time clenching and unclenching his pectoral muscles, for he was conscious of his advancing years and wished to maintain some semblance of his former glory. These
exercises also helped keep his mind off the ache in his legs: it was hard to kneel for so long. He was also wondering whether he was up to whatever they were planning for him. Or whether they would
ignore him in order to play with each other, which would hurt a great deal more than any momentary discomfort suffered in the cause of pleasure.

A week had elapsed since their last session with Vicki. A whole week, in which John’s thoughts had rarely been away from her. Amanda was also relishing the situation they were in. As his
long-term partner, it amused her to train up a new dominatrix for him – particularly as Vicki had come to them as a slave. They were still arguing as to who should take the most credit for
this transformation, during which John had heard a great deal about Amanda’s theories about spirit possession and multiple personality.

“It’s not as simple as being submissive or dominant,” she had said. “Perhaps we are all at the mercy of the many different people inside us. And the spirits we invoke.
Particularly any we fail to banish.”

John knew better than to argue. If she wanted to deny personal responsibility and put her mood-swings down to the activities of long-dead mythical deities or stray poltergeists, that was up to
her. What her theory seemed to boil down to, in practice, was that she was right all the time, whatever he had actually said or done. And it was quicker not to argue.

Even so, he had to take issue whenever Amanda teased him about how well he had adapted to the submissive role. He was keen to point out that this was a temporary measure. Perhaps too keen, for
Amanda had smiled and murmured something about protesting too much. He couldn’t say any more without digging himself in deeper, but he still wanted to keep some distance between himself and
the soft white blob men you could see being led round the floor at fetish events. Where was the convenient label to fit his present sexuality? Masochist but not submissive? Occasionally
acquiescent? Willing to say “Yes, mistress,” in return for therapeutic chastisement?

As soon as Vicki had arrived for her second visit, such questions became only of academic interest. Whatever happened now was going to be all about her: her needs, her desires. Her smile seemed
wider, her voice deeper. She seemed more confident; she didn’t constantly seek reassurance. Her blonde hair was now much shorter and her heels were higher. She was wearing black and red;
perhaps white had been discarded along with her former slave status. It was too early to say if they had cleansed her of the malign influence of her last partner, the idiot “Master
George”. But John couldn’t wait to see her attempt a whole evening in her new role. Perhaps she would even have both her hosts kneeling down and licking her boots, before long. For the
moment, it was Amanda who was strutting around the cellar, laying down the law as Vicki listened intently.

“The moon is still waning,” said Amanda. “And autumn is the time when we harvest. When we separate the wheat from the chaff.” She ran her hands over Vicki’s body,
stopping to stroke and caress wherever Vicki’s soft sighs and moans indicated that she had found the right spot. They looked good together, entirely at ease in each other’s arms. John
was still kneeling, still trying to ignore the ache in his legs. If he didn’t know any better, he would think that Vicki was about to take Amanda away from him. Say what you like about open
marriages. They were never dull.

He watched them kiss, Vicki returning Amanda’s initial advance with more than enough enthusiasm to make his own presence irrelevant. Any possible erotic excitement John might have felt was
deadened by the sickening feeling that this experiment could go badly wrong. Over the past week, he had seen the balance of power in their relationship shift decisively in Amanda’s favour.
And to think he had been concerned that his partner might feel left out! If anyone was likely to be discarded, now Vicki had arrived, it was more likely to be himself. As for Amanda’s
pontificating on the subject of the change of the seasons . . . this particular autumn seemed to be the time to honour the return of Miss Bossy Boots, who would do well to remember that she used to
be a supply teacher before his money enabled her to pack it in. He might even had said as much, this time last week; but, since Vicki’s transformation, everything had changed. In his new,
less exalted place in the household, it would not be appropriate for him to make any supposedly amusing remarks.

He had to strain his ears to hear what they were saying, but since Vicki was wearing gleaming boots and a thin pink rubber bodice, through which her nipples protruded, it hardly mattered. Her
long legs and taut bottom were sheathed in gleaming black rubber; it was almost worth the ache in his legs to view her from this angle. The pain triggered an incongruous memory of a supervised
Buddhist meditation session, where his spirit had floated off somewhere out into space, even as his legs had seized up in agony.

It was all about concentration, reaching a trance state. He fixed his attention on Vicki’s strong well-defined calves and thighs and watched the muscles ripple gently beneath the sheen of
tight-fitting rubber as she shifted her weight from one foot to another.

“Now then,” said Amanda briskly. “Before I can let you loose on John, you must be punished for whatever lewd behaviour you have indulged in since last week. It’s
important that you know your place.”

There was a brief battle of wills as their eyes locked. It wasn’t long before Vicki was looking down at the floor and Amanda’s eyes were shining triumphantly. She was still on
top.

“Do you have something to tell me?” she asked Vicki. “Any improper conduct? Or have you merely been leading young men on? And then running off home to pleasure yourself in the
privacy of your bedroom?”

Vicki seemed almost to smile but instead maintained her blank submissive pose, one she seemed very comfortable with. “Oh, please. I’ve been ever so good.” She was pouting now,
standing with her feet turned inwards. The pose pleased John and irritated Amanda. “I thought we agreed that I only got punished when I deserved it!”

“You can leave whenever you like,” said Amanda, ice-cold all of a sudden. “John would probably be heartbroken. But he would soon find a replacement for you. There isn’t
exactly a shortage of young, dumb blondes.”

Vicki stood up straight; her voice aged a couple of decades. “It’s not my fault I’m younger than you,” she said.

Amanda smiled faintly, then they stared at each other until Vicki looked away. “That’s all right, dear. I just wanted to get you annoyed enough to give John the treatment he so
richly deserves. Look at him! Obediently waiting for you. But first you have to submit to the lady of the house.”

Without another word, Vicki bent over and remained absolutely still, hands flat on the floor. Amanda took a moment to savour her dominance, then softly smacked her, pausing to kiss where her
hand had just landed before continuing the process. The impact of hand on rubber-clad bottom sounded a great deal more dramatic than the actual effects. Vicki was soon sighing with pleasure and
waggling her hips to suggest that perhaps Amanda was erring on the side of leniency.

As each increasingly firm smack resounded, John was transfixed by a vision of Vicki using a whip on himself. He saw himself chained to the whipping post, hands secured above his head, most of
his body encased in latex. He wanted Vicki to put his tightest-fitting mask on. He wanted her to rub the insides of it with her most intimate scents. During the long confinement in sweetly aromatic
darkness, he would be drifting into a trance which might even allow himself freedom from the confines of his body. This was a risky process, in that it was tempting to roam free and never return,
but it was something he would love to do again – especially if guided by Vicki, his new obsession.

Instantly, he knew that Amanda would resent any such intimacy and that he would have to keep any such plans to himself. He had been careful never to mention Vicki’s name in the week that
had passed but Amanda had still been on edge – even though she was keen on Vicki herself. But then, no one had yet come up with a foolproof way of maintaining an open marriage without someone
getting hurt, and it didn’t look like they would be the first.

What was certain was that he was becoming more and more addicted to Vicki, his new drug of choice. He was well aware that her effects would soon wear off, but was hoping that they wouldn’t
see so much of her that they would become bored. As usual, this was a decision that Amanda was likely to take. Right now, she seemed happy enough, spanking Vicki harder and faster in response to
her groans and whimpers.

Amanda carried on past the time when Vicki sounded distressed rather than delighted, judging that she could stand having her limits pushed a little. When Amanda eventually stopped, Vicki sighed
in gratitude. Her eyes were sparkling as she stood up and it was some time before their fervent reconciliatory embrace came to an end.

John was still waiting patiently, trying not to look too ravenous for whatever was going to happen next. He knew if he looked too keen, Amanda might well decide to keep him waiting even
longer.

“It’s time you gave John what he needs,” said Amanda. John was careful not to appear grateful. “And don’t be too gentle. Go and do your worst.”

“I can hardly wait to start on him,” said Vicki, as Amanda looked over at her partner. By the mischievous glint in her eyes, it was clear that she was in no hurry to pander to
him.

“You
must
wait,” said Amanda sharply. “Let him wait upon
our
pleasure for a change. It will teach him a valuable lesson.”

Vicki stole a glance at John, who remained waiting, head bowed. He wanted to give her a reassuring smile but felt this was inappropriate. Amanda was in charge. His only responsibility was to
obey her orders.

“It still feels weird,” said Vicki. “I spent most of my life being dominated. But after last week . . . I don’t know any more. Maybe the other stuff was just buried all
this time.”

Amanda let the words hang in the air for a moment, then nodded approval. “More people should see fetishism as a journey,” she said. “Not just repeating the same things over and
over again. So many people get stuck re-enacting the same childhood trauma over and over again. They never get past the initial wound. I think it’s time for you to move on. If John was
allowed to say anything today, he might even agree.”

Here she nodded towards her partner, stepping out of character long enough to give him a skewed smile and a wink. “Besides, the more men we can make realize that there is nothing
‘manly’ about bossing women about, the better. Then they can assume their rightful place as the sexual playthings of women. They can stop wearing those nasty rough clothes and dress in
the silk knickers they have always really wanted to wear. They wouldn’t have to drink too much or fight each other all the time; they would be happy. But I mustn’t be too harsh on them.
They do have their uses, after all.”