Chapter Four

The Christine Effect

Saturday morning I was still locked in the handcuffs, although Laura had relented halfway through the night, re-fastened my hands in front of me and removed the soggy gag. At about 8.30 she woke up, had a long stretch and reached over to give me a cuddle. She ran her fingers over my nipples and I winced with pain.

“Ooooh. Gosh they do look sore sweetheart!” she said gently. “I’m going to get some cream from the bathroom. Hang on a tick.” She came back a few seconds later with a tube of cream for sunburn.

“This should help. I think it’s got a local anesthetic, and it’ll have something to reduce the redness. Gosh I’m so sorry, John – I got a bit carried away last night. Was I really horrible to you?” she asked. She almost sounded sorry.

“Well it was painful – still is.” I said with a grin, “but at some point I just accepted that you were going to keep doing it. It’s hard to describe really but it was very erotic to know that you were so determined to work me over.”

“It was the same for me,” she said, gently stroking the cream in. “When I iced your nipples the first time I knew you thought it was over – and it was priceless to see your face when I started in on you again. And then when I did it again, and you started crying, I just wanted to hurt you again and again!”

There was that wild look in her eyes again. It occurred to me that without Christine as a calming influence, Laura’s sadistic streak seemed to keep escalating. With Christine around it was so different. If anything she was even crueler – but she was always in total control. Even worse she was so…clinical.

“But you wouldn’t have really hurt me, would you Mistress?” I knew I needed to broach this carefully. I wasn’t sure whether to drop out of the game and just discuss it plainly.

Laura pondered the question. She snuggled up into me and slipped her fingers under the panties to play with my chastity device. “I certainly hope I’d never really hurt you,” she said, “but I did get carried away last night, I’m sorry sweetheart. Do you forgive me?” she kissed me gently on the cheek.

“Y-yes. It’s OK, really, Mistress,” I said hesitantly, “but I was worried that I couldn’t say the safe word if I was gagged. We should have some other signal for when I can’t talk.”

“Yes!” Laura said. “Good idea. Maybe some kind of exaggerated shake of your head like a firm ‘no’. Anyway, I’ll talk it over with Christine. I know we’re going to be gagging you again in the future. Would you like that?”

“Yes Mistress, I think I would.” I replied honestly, “and given the way I was screaming last night it was probably the best thing for me too. I think even Mrs. Evans next door would have heard us, and she’s stone deaf!”

“I’m glad you’re OK with it,” she said finally. “I’m going to hop into the shower now. I have to say I’m quite sore down there after all the orgasms you gave me yesterday. I wish I’d kept count, I’m sure it was more than ten. It’s such a pity you’re locked away really. Are you sad that you can’t come, sweetheart?” As she whispered in my ear I felt my cock swell into the CB3000, and reach the limits then stop. It was amazing how quickly I was getting used to being in chastity.

“Of course I am! I mean…yes Mistress,” I answered, “but I know how much it excites you. And I think I can be a better slave for you this way, and that’s the most important thing.”

“That’s right, my darling,” Laura said. She snuggled closer and put her mouth to my ear. “I know Christine would be angry if she knew I was telling you this,” she whispered, as though Christine might overhear her. “I was ready to dump you a couple of weeks ago. She’d shown me how you were such a loser, John. She told me I’d be better off without you. I think I do still love you sweetheart, but she’s right about you. The way you were, I really would be better off without you.” She paused and kissed my cheek softly. I was almost holding my breath, waiting for what she might say next.

“But now that I can control you like this,” she added, “it just makes me feel so incredibly turned on. You need to understand it, sweetheart. It’s really important. I don’t know any other man who’d let me do this to him. For the first time you’re totally special to me. You’ve given me a wonderful gift John, thank you so much, my darling.”

I managed to take a breath. “I…I’m so sorry I was letting you down Laura,” I told her. “I can see it all now. I know there are things I want from our relationship, but they can wait. I mean, you know that I want to make love to you more than anything but I realize how selfish that is. I want you to know you love me. And maybe then, when you’re sure, we can make love together.”

Laura turned my head toward her and kissed me gently on the lips. “You just keep getting better and better darling,” she told me. “That was really nice.” She stretched again, and grasped my groin.

“God, I think I’d like to keep you that way forever - locked in chains, locked in plastic. Fuck, I wish I wasn’t so sore! I can feel myself wanting it again, and I know it would kill me!”

“Mistress Laura,” I said carefully, “if you’re so sore, why don’t we just stop playing the game for today? I’ve got loads of studying to do. And if you like I can paint the front door for you. It’s looking a bit shabby.”

Yes, that might seem a bit mundane, but I had a plan. I knew I was locked in the bastard chastity device, but I thought if I played the “good boyfriend” for the day I might be allowed to see Laura in her gorgeous new leotard, and maybe even touch her this time.

“You’d paint the door for us?” she asked in surprise. I had never shown any inclination towards handyman jobs in the past. “We’ve been waiting for the landlord to do that since we moved in! That would be really great John, it’s looking so scruffy. Well yes, let’s get you unlocked and we can get cracking!”

There was a fairly big handyman centre just outside the village. Luckily I could catch a bus to it, because it would have been a bit too far to walk. Stepping out with my dick in chastity was a bizarre experience. Laura had made me put on another pair of panties. Again, these were taken from the washing basket, so they were dirty. As I sat on the bus I could feel the constriction around my balls, and it was really quite odd. For the first hour or so I’d kept getting unexpected erections because of the pressure of the chastity device on my cock. But finally I seemed to be getting used to it.

I picked up the stuff I’d need to paint the door: sandpaper, paintbrushes, masking tape, turpentine, undercoat, and top coat. Laura had decided she’d like a crimson red door, which was fine by me.

The painting itself turned out to be quite therapeutic. I needed to wait about four hours after applying the undercoat, so I managed to get a bunch of work done, including writing up a lab report and a series of test questions.

Laura worked next to me on her marking, and then she made me a nice lunch. She seemed to be unusually affectionate towards me, and I’d really started to like the way she was treating me now. We chatted over lunch, and she said she’d like to go to the gym later that afternoon for her usual Saturday classes.

Since the undercoat was still drying I said I’d go for a jog. I’d almost got used to regular exercise now, and I felt quite stiff after being handcuffed all night, and the repetitive motion of the painting.

I jogged for an hour, and did a series of stretches before applying the first top coat on the door. I thought it looked pretty darn good. It would need another coat, but I wouldn’t have time for that today, January days in the UK don’t have that much daylight. I could finish it the next morning. I cleaned the paint off my hands and headed for the shower.

Just as I got out of the shower Laura arrived back from the gym looking all flushed and fresh. She’d taken a spinning class, then done some weights, and had a swim. I’d always admired her ability to work out so intensely. Her body was in perfect condition as a result.

“You are a very clever slave!” she chuckled, grabbing me for a hug. “The door looks amazing.”

“It needs another coat,” I told her, “but the light’s fading fast, so I’ll finish it tomorrow for you.”

“Mmm,” she said, kissing me, “I think I could get used to you being so helpful. It’s such a pity that Christine has her key with her. I could have given you a nice little reward for all your hard work.” She eased her hand onto my chastity device and then down over my balls.

“I think you should buy a lock with two keys, Mistress!” I joked. Laura smiled quickly and lowered her eyes.

“I’m still a bit sore actually, sweetheart,” she said, wiping her damp hands on the towel. “Why don’t we rent a DVD and watch it this evening? I can make you beans on toast for tea!”

“Oh, the culinary delights!” I joked, and then I leaned down and kissed Laura on her bottom. “That would be nice actually. Maybe it would help take my mind off being locked away.”

“Maybe,” she said another hint of a smile on her lips.

While I was getting dressed, Laura ran down to the corner shop and rented a couple of DVDs. “I got ‘Something about Mary’ to watch while we eat. I saw it at the cinema, and I remember it was hilarious,” she told me, “and I got another one for later.”

Sure enough, ‘Something About Mary’ was indeed hilarious. I sat on the couch with Laura lying on my knee after we’d finished eating. She joked that she had to use a cushion on my lap because she could feel the chastity device.

After the first movie Laura revealed the second movie she’d rented. It was a soft porno movie called “The Story of O”. She’d been delighted to find it in the small shop, and joked about how there must be some kinky people living close by.

The movie was quite difficult for me to watch. It tells the story of a very beautiful French girl who becomes a slave to her boyfriend, and then another, older man. There are a lot of heavy, but tastefully done scenes of bondage, whipping, and some lesbian kissing too. As we sat there together Laura “helped me out” by stroking my thighs, massaging my balls gently, and eventually even getting me to take off my sweatshirt so she could suck my nipples. I was in tremendous discomfort because of the hard on I was trying to get in the chastity device.

“But sweetheart,” she pointed out, “at some point you need to learn how to control your erections now you’re in chastity. I’m just trying to help you, honestly.”

“Th-thank you Mistress,” I gasped, as I watch the lovely O being whipped on screen.

“This is just as frustrating for me!” Laura pointed out. “I’m still sore.”

When the movie finished I asked Laura if we could just get an early night. I had slept fitfully while I was handcuffed the previous night.

“Of course, sweetheart!” she said, squeezing my cheek between finger and thumb.

When we were all tucked up, Laura leaned over to kiss me.

“John, if you’re really, really gentle, maybe you could try fingering me a little bit,” she whispered shyly. “There’s nothing sore about my nipples, feel free to suck them as much as you like!”

I groaned inwardly, but then I thought I really should try to bring her off if I could. This morning she’d told me I was special to her for the first time, and I wanted to try and keep that impression in her mind. So I began with gentle kisses to her lips, and around her face then I worked my way down to her breasts. I realised it had been a long time since she’d really allowed me to explore her like this. So for the next half hour I kissed her everywhere except her pussy. I put my heart into every kiss, telling her how beautiful she looked, and thanking her for giving me this privilege. I repeated my mantra again and again.

Laura was frantic. She was clearly very aroused, and desperate for me to touch her; I held off. She’d asked me to finger her, but I reasoned that my tongue was much gentler than my fingers if she really was still sore.

I took the bottle of baby lotion from the dressing table and used it to massage her. As she groaned with pleasure under my fingers, I dribbled some lotion into her bottom, and slid my fingers into her. She curled up under me with pleasure as I explored her. One of her tell-tale signs of arousal is when she bites into her own upper arm. I find it arousing because I know it means she’s really turned on not that I needed any clues at this stage, she was dripping wet too. I could see her upper thighs were slightly red, and I knew it was probably because of my stubble irritating her when I went down on her the previous day. Maybe fingering would be kinder, I wondered. All this time I felt myself straining in the chastity device, my beautiful fiancée was laid out under my finger tips. She was so available to me, and yet I was powerless to take advantage of her.

After a few more minutes of teasing, I moved up so I could kiss her again. At least I’d get that pleasure. I’d used my left hand in her bottom, and I was careful to switch to my right hand to gently massage her mound. She gasped with delight as I did so and begged me to touch her. I held back for a few more seconds, and then allowed my finger to gently stroke her clit. The effect was very gratifying! Her arms locked around me, and she pressed her pelvis forward against my hand greedily. I eased back, keeping the pressure as light as I could.

She was continuously begging me now so I pressed just a little harder. I felt her tense, and hold her breath as I drew my finger all the way along her clit. She gave a strangled cry as she came, and stayed gripping me for maybe ten seconds. Then she flopped down onto the bed, panting like crazy.

“Oh John, I love that so much!” she was almost crying. “Jesus Christ I think I’m turning into a sex addict!” She stroked my cheek with her hand.

“Remember what I told you this morning, darling?” she whispered. “That you’re special to me?”

“Yes Mistress,” I answered happily.

“I meant it!” she said fiercely. “I know how hard you’re trying, John. Please remember that no matter what tricks we play on you we’re going to try and screw around with your mind sweetheart, but it’s all part of the game! Darling, you’ve got such a long way to go to be anything but a loser, but the point is that you’re trying for the first time since I met you. I need you to keep trying for me.” As Laura spoke to me I actually felt tears pricking at the back of my eyes. Was there really hope for me with her?

“I…I promise I will Laura. I love you.”

She smiled and flopped her head back on the pillow. “Oh sweetheart, right now I just love your fingers and your tongue,” she sighed. She paused, and then told me, “John, if you’re really, really gentle with me could you just kiss me again down there? I love it so much, please!”

I laughed at her begging me. It was so fucking ironic!

“Yes Mistress,” I told her. “It will be my pleasure.”

The next morning Laura had a few regrets. “Jesus Christ, I’m so sore!” she groaned. “I feel like the inside of my thighs have been sanded!”

I’d brought her some tea and cereal for breakfast, and mentioned I was going to put a second coat of paint on the front door. It looked like it might rain later so I thought I’d better grab the opportunity.

“I’m sorry, darling,” I told her, “it’s my stubble that’s causing the problem. I tried to shave as close as I could yesterday, but I’m not as smooth as Christine. Sorry.”

She grabbed the front of my T-shirt and pulled me down for a kiss. “Do not apologize,” she chuckled. “Christine may have nice soft skin, but she really doesn’t have your technique and I don’t get that rush of being able to control like I do with you.”

I grinned. “Well it’s nice to know my suffering isn’t in vain,” I said.

She brushed her lips against mine. “Are you really suffering?” she whispered.

“Well…” I stammered, “You have to understand, Mistress, I was masturbating at least once a day, maybe more sometimes. To go from that to maybe one orgasm a week, or even less…yes it’s really, really tough.”

She looked me in the eyes sympathetically for a few seconds. Then kissed me again and let me go.

“Good!” she said, sipping her tea. “The more you suffer, the hotter I get! But Christ, I need to put some cream or something on these thighs! I suppose it’s like nappy rash.”

I managed to escape from the bedroom before she changed her mind and decided soreness wasn’t going to stop her from experiencing another orgasm.

As I brushed on the second coat of paint I marveled at the incredible transformation in Laura. I remembered when I first started to date her; I was almost dumbstruck as to why a beautiful girl like that would want to go out with me. When I discovered her particular reluctance about sex that was a bit of a damper, of course, but now she really did seem to be evolving into some kind of sex addict. Was that even an addiction, I wondered. I seemed to remember the lead actor in X-files was supposed to be some kind of sex addict. Lucky bastard!

Finally the door was finished. I was actually quite proud of my work, and it was a vast improvement over the previous scruffy paint job. Maybe the landlord would even give them a rebate because of it.

After a shower I reported to Laura, who was organizing the washing for her and Christine. “You go to the top of the class my lovely slave!” she chuckled, giving me a nice kiss.

“How are your thighs?” I asked, managing not to smirk.

“Best forgotten!” she replied. “I found some cream that helped, but I really need to take it easy with you in the future or you need to find a way to show Christine how you do it!”

“Let’s assume I want to keep my secrets to myself!” I quipped.

Laura pulled me closer. “Why you devious little shit!” she said, but with a smile to show she was joking. “You’re getting very clever at finding reasons for me to keep you around.”

“I regard that as my primary mission in life these days, Mistress,” I told her.

“Oh, I forgot!” she said. “I made you this!” She handed me a picture frame. In it was a copy of the slave contract she’d made me sign the other night.

“This is to display on your wall at the university,” she told me.

“Wh-what?” I stammered. “Please Mistress, tell me you’re joking!”

“Oh no, I’m not joking my sweet,” she said, grinning, “you’re going to put that up on the wall above your desk as soon as you get back. And you’ll keep it there. You will absolutely not take it down to hide it! If we ever find out you have hidden it, then we’ll find a very effective way to make you sorry.”

I looked at the contract. The words “Slave Contract” were glaringly obvious. I wondered if there was some joke I could make about it. Well, maybe that was the trick to say I created it to show what a slave I was. But coupled with the public humiliation a lot of my friends had witnessed the previous weekend, they might prefer to believe it was serious.

I nodded glumly. “Yes Mistress,” I mumbled.

“Oh sweetheart!” she said sarcastically. “What a face! Maybe I need to give you a reward! Just a minute, I’m going to get dressed and we can go for a nice walk in the park.” She hurried upstairs and I carried on tidying away all the paint stuff.

Ten minutes later Laura came back downstairs. My jaw almost hit the floor when I saw what she was wearing. She was dressed in her black leather-look jeans, ankle boots and a crisp white cotton blouse. She looked fantastic!

“Wow – that’s really sexy…er…Mistress,” I stammered.

“Thanks!” she said. “I put them on to tease you, isn’t that good of me? Is it nice to see me look like this and know that you can’t do anything about it?”

“It’s…well it’s certainly frustrating, Mistress,” I mumbled.

“Good!” she chuckled.

She slipped on her black leather jacket and leather gloves. This was a fantastic outfit – it almost looked like a catsuit when she was all zipped up. “Here,” she said. “You’ll need this if we’re going to the park.”

She handed me my slave collar, and the dog leash. My stomach churned. She was planning another public humiliation for me but it occurred to me there was something she hadn’t thought through about this one.

“But wait. Hang on Laura…err, Mistress Laura,” I began.

“No arguments!” she said, her voice becoming more severe. “If you’re going to the park you need to be on a leash. And do you need to pee? Maybe we can find you a nice tree!” she giggled.

“Wait!” I said, grasping her upper arms to make my point. “Wait, err RED, or whatever I’m supposed to say. We’re not playing the game now. Listen Laura, it’s fine for you to humiliate me when we’re in Loughborough. I’m happy to put this sign up in my room even. Actually all of that is much more embarrassing for me anyway because it’s where people know me. But we’re here – in your village. This is where you work – as a school teacher! There are two kids from your school that live on this street for Pete’s sake. I’m happy for you to put this collar on me and lead me around in public. No problem. But you can’t go out in that outfit, leading a bloke around on a dog leash. Think it through, love. Call Christine if you’re not sure, but this isn’t the right thing to do.”

I saw that my words were having the right effect on Laura. She sat down on the dining chair and stared out of the window. After a few seconds I heard a sob and I went over to hold her.

“Hey! It’s OK,” I said gently. “It’s OK really. Nothing bad has happened.” She turned around and hugged me around the waist.

“Oh God, I’m getting completely carried away with this,” she sniffed. She stood up and leaned in to kiss me. “I got totally carried away. I’m sorry, love. Thanks for keeping me under control!” she said, laughing at the irony.

“Look,” I said, “we can still go for a walk. Maybe even catch the bus into Nottingham and have a walk around town. Do some window shopping or maybe there’s something good on at the cinema,” I suggested, trying to keep the mood light. “Maybe we should just try to forget about the game for today and just be normal. As you said, you’re too sore for me to bring you off any more so there really wouldn’t be any point for you to get too excited, would there?”

“Of course you’re right,” she said eventually. “And that’s a great idea – let’s go into town. I’d better change out of this, hadn’t I?”

“Not necessarily,” I said, smirking. “If you swap those come-fuck-me heels for trainers, and the leather jacket for something less kinky then I’d love to be seen out with you in those jeans. They’re gorgeous, and on their own they don’t scream ‘Dominatrix’.”

Laura laughed and gave me a hug. “You’re so sweet,” she said, “that’s one of the reasons I love you.” She leaned in and kissed me again.

“I love you too,” I said, sliding my hands around and gently squeezing her pert bottom. It was a fantastic shape in those jeans, I thought.

“And remember. I’m still locked in chastity,” I whispered to her. “It’s our secret as we walk around town. So on the inside you still know that you really are my Mistress.”

Laura kissed me again and hurried off to change. She came back down in low heeled black shoes and a long, dark grey cardigan coat.

“Now that’s what I call modern chic and only a hint of BDSM with the jeans,” I quipped.

Nottingham is a pleasant enough city with plenty of great pubs and lots of history. It also has a couple of decent shopping centres, so I spent most of the time trailing Laura around various department stores, clothes shops and such. As we walked past Primark, Laura squealed – “Look at those!” and she pointed in the window.

I noticed a row of black thigh length boots. And the sticker price showed only ten pounds!

“That has to be a mistake, surely. It’s way too cheap for thigh boots,” I said.

“It’s no mistake!” Laura said, grabbing my hand to go inside. “This is Primark remember. The quality will be rubbish, but I bet they’ll be fine for the bedroom and for ten quid it’s a steal.”

Sure enough, the boots were on special offer, and there were only a few pairs left. Fortunately Laura has quite large feet – UK size 7. They didn’t have any 7’s left, but there were some size 8 boots – and when she tried them over the jeans they seemed to fit perfectly. The boots had a three inch heel and were actually made of some kind of stretch plastic rather than leather. They matched her jeans perfectly.

“Gosh I’m tempted to wear them right now,” she said. She looked at me to see what I thought.

“We’re in Nottingham,” I said carefully, “there’s still a chance you’ll see some kids or parents from your school but I think the outfit will take it. You should wear them and even though I’m broke, I can afford to buy these for you.”

I paid for the boots at the counter, and Laura sat down on one of the benches to put them back on. There were a few men in the shop – trailing around after their other halves like me. Most of them paused to look at Laura as she slid the boots over her tight, shiny jeans. I’m sure she knew about it too, because she seemed to take an especially long time adjusting them and pulling them tight.

“There!” she said, standing up and turning around slowly. “What do you think?”

At this point almost all of the men in the shop had somehow found themselves with a direct view of Laura. A couple of their lady friends pulled them away.

“They look fantastic!” I told her enthusiastically.

“We should go home right now and try them out in the bedroom,” she said in a full conversational voice. In the next aisle I saw a middle aged man step backwards into a rack of dresses as he was trying to get a better view. Several of the women gave disapproving looks but I was beaming.

“You bet!” I said, and held my hand out.

We marched out of the shop and I couldn’t help thanking my lucky stars that Laura hadn’t made me get down and kiss the new boots. I wonder what I would have done.

Sadly she was only joking about the bedroom. My bus back to Loughborough actually left from Nottingham, and I’d brought my weekend bag along with me. So we grabbed a late lunch in a pub – slimline tonic and a salad in my case – and then Laura saw me off at the bus station. As we walked around town together I realised how many men seemed to be drooling over her. It would have been even worse if she’d worn the leather jacket, I thought. But the combination of a beautiful face, killer body and the sexy, but classy outfit was amazing. I was so proud to be seen with her.

I got back to Loughborough late in the afternoon, and the first thing I had to do was to write up a series of labs for the next day. I phoned Dave to see if he’d already done them, but as I suspected he’d also decided to leave it until the last minute. We agreed to meet up at the library and work on them together. After about half an hour the topic of conversation turned to Laura.

“So your bird was over last weekend eh?” Dave said.

“She was,” I confirmed. “And I was over at her place this weekend.”

Silence for a few minutes. This is how male conversations often progress. “She’s tasty,” Dave said, “older than you though, is she?”

“A bit – eighteen months or thereabouts.”

Another pause. “And she’s quite posh, isn’t she – I mean considering you’re just a working class scouse git who can strip the wheels off a Ford Mondeo faster than a Formula One pit team. No offense,” he grinned. Dave was from Dagenham, and considered anybody who sounded their H’s to be “posh”.

“None taken you not-quite cockney twat,” I replied with a smile. “Yes, she’s a bit posh, I suppose. She comes from a little village in Gloucestershire. I think her dad’s quite well off.”

A long pause this time, I knew what was coming next. “And she’s quite…err…quite bossy, I reckon,” he said eventually. Dave was clearly struggling for the right description. Given the fact that we had to finish these labs I thought I’d put him out of his misery.

“You mean she makes me kiss her boots before she lets me have sex with her?” I queried. I’d spoken in a normal level of voice, and in the quiet of the library several of the surrounding tables had clearly heard me. A girl at a nearby table was looking right at me and I smiled sweetly at her. She laughed and put her hand to her mouth and turned her head away shyly.

Dave in the meantime was blushing fiercely. He cleared his throat. “Well…err…yes. I think a lot of people saw you do that. Kissing the boots I mean, not the sex…” He blushed even more and put his head down into an Analytical Chemistry text book.

“She likes me to show her the proper respect,” I told him. “And let’s face it she’s way out of my league so I’m more than happy to oblige.”

I’d gone a bit far for Dave to process at this stage and there was another long pause in which the only conversations were about experimental yields and molecular structures. The girl at the other table had continued to catch my eye. She was dark haired and rather striking. She was with three other girls and they were obviously in some kind of study group. I was wondering what to do beyond smiling when to my amazement she got up and walked over to our table.

“Hi!” she said to me. Dave looked up in amazement. He hadn’t noticed the eye contact that we’d been making over the past quarter of an hour or so.

I stood up somewhat awkwardly. “Hello,” I said, and held out my hand. “John.”

“Amy.” Her grip was cool and soft. She held my eye contact as we shook hands.

On a whim I said nothing. I just held her hand and kept looking into her eyes. They were a deep brown, and quite lovely. Eventually she broke contact and spoke again. “Err. Sorry…I’m just about finished here and I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink with me, John?” she asked.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dave’s jaw drop open. “That would be really nice, Amy,” I said. “I suppose I need about ten minutes to finish up here. Is that OK?”

She nodded and smiled.

“I’ll come over and collect you shall I?” I asked.

“I’ll be waiting.”

She turned and walked lightly back to her table where her friends were whispering and giggling behind raised textbooks.

“You fucking lucky bastard!” Dave said in a whisper. “She’s well fit.”

“I hadn’t noticed, but now you mention it she is rather lovely,” I said as casually as I could. “I was just admiring the fact that she had the balls to walk over and ask me for a drink actually. Now shut your gob and let’s get this write-up finished. We’ve got an hour’s work to do in ten minutes.”

Ten minutes to the second later I drew a line on the page of my lab book and began to stuff everything into my rucksack.

“Dave, be a mate and put the books back on the shelves, will you?” I didn’t wait for a reply – which I suspected would be along the lines of “fuck off”. I headed over to Amy’s table.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Amy,” I said. Her friends were still smirking with their heads bowed into their books. They seemed to be acting a bit like a bunch of 16 year olds. Amy was a total contrast. She seemed to be the only mature one here. Well, apart from me maybe.

“You said ten minutes and you’re right on time,” she said, smiling. “Girls this is John. John, this is Sue, Amira and Katie.”

I waved and said, “Pleased to meet you all.”

“Shall we go?” asked Amy, standing up and hitching on her shoulder bag. It was a typical faded denim number that girls seem to cram full of their stuff.

We headed out of the library and across the road to the Library Bar. On a Sunday evening, on this side of campus there were only a half dozen other people in. I guided Amy to a table by the window and held the chair for her.

“What would you like to drink?” I asked.

“I asked you – I should be buying,” she said, smiling.

“You can get the next round,” I shot back.

She raised her eyebrows. “If there is a next round…” she teased. “Well I think I’d like a white wine…does that seem too girly? Are you one of those men who likes his girl to drink pints, John?”

“On the contrary,” I said, trying to avoid the trap, “the wine selection here is exceptional. Derek takes pride in what he buys. Are you partial to a Chardonnay or maybe a Sauvignon Blanc?”

She suddenly looked surprised at having her bluff called. “Errr. I don’t know really. You seem to know a lot about wine. Why don’t you suggest something?”

“OK,” I said. “Why don’t you describe the kind of wine you’d like and I will take it as a personal challenge to make sure you get it?”

She smiled again, and blushed slightly. I wondered if I’d come out with a double entendre by mistake. Well good for me.

“Well. White wine…” she paused, thinking.

“Good start,” I quipped. She grinned and punched me lightly on the arm. This was going really well I thought.

“OK,” she said, gripping the arm of her chair nervously. “Details. Well…something quite dry, but not bone dry. And with a nice smell…I mean they call it perfume in wine, don’t they?”

“Bouquet,” I said, trying not to sound too pompous. “But perfume is just as good. Do you like oak?”

“Oak?” she looked at me puzzled.

“Sorry. Oak is used with white wines like Chardonnay. It adds a bit of body, and sometimes a taste of vanilla.”

“Oh yes! I know what you mean but I don’t think I like that.”

“That’s good information. Derek has an outstanding Chilean Chardonnay, but it’s really okay. I like it, but if you’re not a fan of vanilla I’d give it a miss. OK, so how do you feel about acid?”

“I’ve never taken it, so I don’t really know,” she said. At first I thought she was serious, but then I noticed the cheeky twinkle in those beautiful brown eyes and I knew she was joking. I just paused and smiled.

“Oh!” she said, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “You mean citric acid in the wine!” Now she was showing off. I was tempted to tell her about malolactic fermentation, but I thought that might make me look too geeky.

“Touché,” I said. She frowned slightly as she was considering the question.

“Hmmm. I actually do like something acidic. A nice tingle – that would be good.”

“I’m sure I can deliver a nice tingle,” I said, and this time she burst out laughing.

“Just go and get me a bloody drink will you! Before I die of old age!” she chuckled, pushing me towards the bar.

I strolled slowly over. “’Ello John. ‘Aven’t seen you for ages.” Derek was serving tonight. He was the bar manager here and I’d struck up a friendship with him a few months earlier when I was helping out on some committees.

“No mate. Girlfriend has had me on the wagon, wants me to lose weight,” I answered.

“She’s very nice,” said Derek, tilting his head to where Amy was sitting. I noticed she’d taken a compact out of her bag and was fiddling with her makeup.

“Oh no!” I chuckled. “That’s not my girlfriend. I just met Amy up in the library. Actually she asked me out so I need your help mate. Have you got a bottle of that Australian Sauvignon Blanc-Semillon you made me try at the wine tasting?”

“The Mountadam? Oh yes!” said Derek proudly. “That’s very popular, that one. Once I started offering it by the glass it’s been selling like hot cakes. Yes, a very good choice. Two large glasses?”

“No mate. Slimline tonic for me please,” I replied, patting my tummy. Actually there was a lot less of it lately, I thought.

Derek sighed and turned his back to me. “Slimline fucking tonic. Tosser!” he said, loudly.

I took the drinks back to Amy. If she was pretty before, she looked stunning now.

“Cheers!” she said, raising the glass to her lips.

“Hang on!” I said, holding a hand up. “Just try smelling it first. I know it sounds strange, but something like 75% of what we taste actually comes through our nose. Just give it a try, please.”

She had frozen with the glass inches from her lips. She looked at me like I was crazy, but then carefully sniffed the wine. “Mmmm. It smells…nice?” she said, smiling.

“Does it remind you of anything?” I asked, patiently.

“Errr. I suppose ‘grapes’ is not what you’re looking for?” she smiled again shyly. She closed her eyes and sniffed again. Her brow furrowed. “Oh yes, it smells a bit like…grass! Oh dear, am I being silly?”

“No, you’re spot on,” I told her. “That is the Sauvignon Blanc grape. The grassy smell is one of the primary indicators. But it should be like freshly mown grass. What else?”

She was getting interested now, having scored a bull’s-eye on her first guess.

“Well…there really is a fruity smell. I know I’m not supposed to say grapes, but what is it?” she closed her eyes and thought again.

“Does it remind you of a time of day?” I prompted.

“Gosh, I don’t know!” she said…seeming to be more puzzled. “Wait, how bizarre, yes it reminds me of early morning – breakfast. I know! It smells like a grapefruit!”

“Go to the top of the class!” I said, clapping my hands silently in applause.

Amy beamed – she had a beautiful smile. “So can I drink the flipping thing now?” she asked sarcastically.

“If you wish I suppose.” I tried to sound a bit Noel Coward-ish. “But take it from me; you’re a natural at this. Most people get the grassy smell, but identifying grapefruit specifically is definitely in expert territory. Well done.”

She paused and sniffed the wine again. She still hadn’t taken a sip. “Gosh I always thought all that sniffing at wine was just so pretentious,” she said. “But you can actually smell those things. Amazing.”

“OK,” I said. “Now go ahead and taste it. But take just a sip, and hold it in the front of your mouth then try to suck in some air over it to mix the air with the wine. Here I’ll show you.”

I took a sip of my tonic water and did a classic wine taster’s slurp. Amy was fascinated.

“But be careful!” I said. “Most people when they try that for the first time end up choking because they suck too hard and it goes down the wrong way.”

Amy took a small sip, and tried to copy my slurp. She almost managed it and then had to gulp down the wine.

“I see what you mean!” she said laughing. “It nearly went down the wrong way. But mixing the air in really brings out the flavours. Gosh this is so delicious!” She reached over squeezed my hand for a second. “This is exactly the kind of wine I wanted. Thank you, John!”

“Well I’m glad you like it, Amy,” I told her. “I’ll write the name down for you so you’ll know what to order next time.”

“That’s a bit defeatist, isn’t it?” she said it as she peered at me over the rim of the glass.

“Sorry?”

“You’re assuming I’ll be coming in here without you, because if I’m with you I won’t need to remember the name, will I?”

I couldn’t quite work out what to say to that. It seemed such a loaded question. Recently I had re-learned a lesson that so many men learn at some time in their life. If you can’t think of anything sensible to say – say nothing! And it seemed to work.

“Don’t you want to know why I asked you out for a drink?” she asked me. She was still holding the glass and sniffing at the wine between sips.

“Gosh,” I began, “it can’t be because of my skills as a sommelier – wine expert – because at that point I had not exposed them to you.” I spoke in a deliberate, precise way – I was trying to mimic Sherlock Holmes really. I paused and raised my eyebrows.

“What?” asked Amy. “Are you waiting for feedback? Guess again.”

“Ah, but I haven’t guessed at all yet,” I pointed out. “I am merely eliminating the possibilities. Where was I? Oh yes. And I’m sure a devastatingly beautiful lady like you was not impressed with my merely average looks.”

“That’s for sure!” she said sarcastically.

“I thought you weren’t going to give feedback?” I pointed out.

“I lied.”

God this girl was really cute. I couldn’t believe how well it was going. I had the horrible impression it could only go downhill from here.

“So, my dear Amy,” I continued, “once I have eliminated all the possibilities, only the truly bizarre remains. You came and asked me out because you heard me admit that I was kissing my girlfriend’s boot in public so that she would subsequently have sex with me.”

“Elementary my dear pervert!” she quipped, and toasted me with the wine.

“Pervert? That’s harsh,” I said, nodding. “True. But harsh.”

“My God, did you really kiss her boots in public then?” Amy asked, sounding shocked now. “Why would you do that?”

“So many questions,” I replied, “but fear not, I will answer. Yes I really did kiss her boots in public. I did so willingly and at length I seem to remember. I did it because she has fantastic legs, and looks really sexy in black stiletto boots. And because she and I are involved in a 24/7 lifestyle sub/Dom relationship, and that was her condition for me to be allowed to have sex with her.”

Amy had a mouthful of wine as I said those last words. To her credit she managed not to spit the wine all over me. But only just. She went into a coughing fit and I scampered round to pat her on the back.

I offered her my glass. “Here,” I said “it’s only slimline tonic. But I can get you some water if you like.”

Amy took my glass and took a few sips. The coughing subsided, but her eyes were watering.

“I’ll be OK, thanks,” she gasped. “It shot down the wrong way though. Is there any wine coming out of my nose?”

I chuckled, “No I don’t think so. I know I said to take in the bouquet, but you shouldn’t take that too literally.”

Amy dabbed some tears with a paper napkin and blew her nose.

“OK,” she said finally. “Not something I hear a lot. What did you call it? A 24/7 what?”

“Lifestyle sub/Dom relationship,” I repeated.

She blinked. “And what does that entail exactly?”

I blew air out of my pursed lips. “Wow!” I said. “Not sure where to start really, it sort of depends how open minded you are. I don’t want you to run off screaming. And I also don’t want to pretend I’m an expert. We only just got into it.”

Amy sat up straight. “I think I’m pretty open minded offhand I can’t think of anything I’ve done that would back that up though. Why don’t you try me with the truth?”

“Right you are then,” I said. “You’ll have to bear with me; I’ve never actually summarized it for anyone before. Laura is my Mistress. I am her slave. For every moment we’re together, every thought that I have is focused on serving her needs. Not just sexual, but every aspect of her life. Even when we’re apart – she teaches at a school outside Nottingham – I maintain my devotion to her 24 hours a day.”

“Wow!” said Amy. She paused, obviously processing what I’d just said. “So does she tie you up?”

I nodded, “Sometimes. In fact I spent Friday night sleeping with my hands handcuffed behind me but most of the time I willingly submit to whatever she wants. She doesn’t need to tie me up in other words.”

Another pause. Amy picked up her glass and took a long sip. She kept her eyes down looking at the glass. Then she looked me in the eyes.

“Does she err…does she hurt you?” she was almost whispering now.

I smiled. “She chooses to inflict pain on me sometimes. And yes, it’s quite intense. But she does it to push me to my limits – to try to make me submit even further. It’s mostly a mind game.”

Amy just stared at me, mouth slightly open. She closed it and swallowed visibly. “Wow!” she said again. “But you look so…well so…normal.”

I laughed. “I’m not sure what normal is supposed to be. I’m sorry if I’ve shocked you, but I thought you’d want to know the truth.”

“Right,” she said slowly, as if she wasn’t really listening to me. Maybe she was deciding if she could make it out of the door without me raping her.

Her eyes seemed to come back into focus. “You said you carry on your devotion even when you’re not with her. But you’re here out drinking with me. How does that work?”

“I’m not drinking – or not drinking alcohol anyway,” I pointed out. “That’s one of the promises I’ve made to her. She wants to keep me trim you see. And what’s wrong with me being out with you? It’s not like we’re on a date.”

“But what if we were on a date?” she persisted. “What if I asked you back to my room?”

“Are you likely to ask me back to your room?” I asked.

“That’s not the point – what if I did?” she was leaning forward now – clearly engrossed.

“Look, I told you I didn’t want to shock you,” I said, “but you said you wanted the truth. There’s another aspect of submission that I perform for my Mistress.”

As I said the word “Mistress” Amy actually put her hand to her mouth as if she was shocked. It was such a quaint gesture – I hadn’t seen kids my age do it.

“Well tell me then…you can’t leave a remark like that just hanging,” she demanded.

I paused and looked her right in the eyes. “I wear a chastity device for her. She has the key. Even if you did invite me back to your room – and by the way I couldn’t think of anything more delightful – you’d be completely safe.”

Amy’s hand was back over her mouth. She picked up her glass but it was empty.

“Would you like another drink?” I asked.

“Yes please, I think I need one. But I’m buying. Don’t go away. Slimline tonic – are you sure?”

I nodded.

Amy hurried over to the bar. I saw her chatting to Derek as he was pouring the wine. He showed Amy the bottle and then I saw them both glancing at me. I waved. She waved back. Derek leaned over and whispered something in her ear and she burst out laughing. I noticed she brought her hand to her mouth then too. It was nice – she seemed very…tactile. And she was so pretty.

She came back over with the drinks.

“I was tempted to put a vodka into yours, but I’m sure your Mistress would disapprove,” she stared me in the eyes, deadpan as she spoke.

“She would, that’s true,” I confirmed. “She’d certainly punish me.”

“But how would she know? She’s not here.” Amy seemed mesmerized by the whole notion.

“I’d have to tell her, of course,” I said bluntly. “In fact I told her something yesterday that cost me dearly.”

“Of course you’d tell her,” Amy said. “What was I thinking?” She took a big swig of the wine. I’d bought her a large glass and I noticed she’d had the same again.

“Look Amy,” I said, “it’s been really lovely to meet you…”

“Don’t go! Finish your drink!” she said, almost in a panic.

“It’s OK. I was going to,” I told her, “but I really need to get back and get some rest. I’d like to walk you back to your dorm though. You shouldn’t be crossing campus on your own after dark. I’ll stay until you’ve finished your wine.”

“Walk me back? How gallant of you. I suppose there could be perverts about!” she whispered theatrically. She sounded a bit tipsy. She glared at me with a smile.

I leaned forward in a conspiratorial way. “Well the good news is that if you’re actually with a pervert, what are the odds of bumping into another one?”

“Oh!” she retorted, quick as a flash. “But maybe they’re like buses!” she chuckled. “You wait ages for one and then three show up all at once.”

We laughed together. She had a warm, comfortable laugh.

“I asked Derek about you,” she told me. “He says you’re OK for a working class guy, but I shouldn’t leave my car keys hanging around,” she said it in a whisper.

“I know!” I whispered back. “I saw you talking to him.”

“Oh!” she said, only half serious. “I was trying to be discrete.”

“Fail!”

Another giggle. Was it the wine, or was I a really big hit with this, girl? Amy was silent for a few seconds, clearly mulling something over.

“How would she punish you?” she asked.

“Sorry?”

“Your Mistress – Laura was it? You said you’d tell her about us, and that she’d punish you. What would she do to you?”

I took a deep breath to consider my answer. “Actually it’s not Laura I’d be worried about so much. It’s Christine.”

Amy blinked again. “Christine. Who’s Christine?”

“OK, this is what you get for asking simple questions about complicated situations. Swallow your wine; I don’t want you choking again,” I paused. Amy swallowed. “Christine is my Mistress’ lesbian lover.”

Amy sat back in her chair and her eyes narrowed. “OK, now you’re just making it up. I was starting to believe you there! I must be flipping crazy – everything you told me has been complete bullshit, hasn’t it?”

I also leaned back in my chair. I wondered whether to use the silent ploy again, but I wasn’t sure if it would work this time. “Amy,” I began firmly. “You’ve no reason to believe me. But on the other hand I have no reason to lie – at least not in this way. If I was going to make up a lie about a deviant sex life, why would I paint myself as a sex slave? Surely I’d invent a story where I was a Master for some harem of half a dozen beautiful girls that were my slaves. That would be just as interesting, but a lot more macho.” I paused to let the words sink in.

“But the reality is,” I continued, “that I allow my Mistress and her girlfriend to treat me as a sex slave. And one of their most potent ways to control me is that they deny me sexual gratification by keeping me locked in a plastic chastity cage. If you prefer not to believe me, then that’s fine. But I’m telling you the truth. I know it’s not sexy. I know it’s shocking but it’s the truth.”

Amy took another swig of wine – the glass was empty again. “Show me,” she said at last.

“What?”

“Show me your chastity thing.”

“I can’t…”

“Oh I see,” she snorted. “Big story then he can’t show me a thing. Right!”

“But it’s a clear plastic cage around my…well around my genitals,” I said quietly. “I’d be showing you my…”

“Your dick?” she interrupted. “So what? If you’re telling the truth I’ve got nothing to worry about. It’s locked up. We can do it in my room so if you’re lying and try any funny business I’ll scream my head off.”

I was getting worried now. “Look,” I said, “I think this is going too fast. Surely you wouldn’t expect a man to show you his…his dick…only an hour after you meet him. Or would you?”

“Well I’ve never managed it yet,” she admitted, “but in this case you’re telling me that it’s irrelevant anyway. You’re all locked up. The only reason I want to see it is to find out if the man I seem to be getting on so well with is just a big fat liar.”

I leaned back and thought for a second. Before I could stop her Amy reached out and made a grab for my groin.

“Oh dear God!” she yelped as she touched the hard plastic hidden by my jeans.

I laughed – especially as I noticed that two of the other tables were staring at her. I wonder what they thought was going on.

“Well?” I asked. “Now do you believe me?”

“Maybe,” she said slowly. She looked really worried now. “But that could be anything. I want to see it. Come on – finish your drink and let’s go.”

Before I could argue she’d started to put on her coat. I gulped down the last of the tonic and followed suit.

Amy actually lived in the next hall along from mine. Her room was only about 300 yards from my own – so close and yet I couldn’t remember having seen her around the campus. I could hardly fail to notice a girl like her.

“What are you studying?” I asked.

“Ergonomics. First year,” she said. “and you?”

“Chemistry,” I replied, “also first year. I was trying to place your accent. Are you from the North West by any chance?”

“I am actually, Cheshire – not far from Chester.”

“I’m from Birkenhead,” I said, “just up the road.”

“Derek said you were from around here, but you don’t sound like it,” she said.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I chuckled. “Not sure why I don’t have the accent really. Most of my family is pretty broad.”

Before long we arrived at Amy’s dorm block. I hesitated at the doorway.

“Look,” I said nervously, “I’m really not sure this is a good idea. I just don’t know what it’s supposed to accomplish.”

“Typical man,” she said, grabbing my hand. Mine were freezing but hers were lovely and warm – she’d had them buried in her coat pockets. “Come on. I’ll make you a coffee, and you show me your dick.” As she said it another girl was passing by and she giggled when she heard Amy’s comment.

“Evening Amy – still working on that pick up technique I see,” she said.

“Evening Jazzie,” Amy shot back, “drugging them didn’t seem to work so I’m going for the direct approach these days.”

I shook my head and gave in. We entered Amy’s room. It was a typical girlie place with lots of pastel shades, soft toys and impressionist posters. I noticed one of the posters was an odd one out – it was of the Large Hadron Collider at CERN.

“Are you interested in the LHC?” I asked. “That’s pretty cool.”

“My little brother’s into physics – he’s doing his A-levels next year. He was trying to explain to me what a hadron is, but I couldn’t follow it.”

“It’s a subatomic particle made up of two or three quarks bonded together by the strong nuclear force,” I said absently mindedly. “Protons, neutrons, some weird stuff like pions and kaons. I can get you a nice poster of the Standard Model, if you like?”

Amy put her head on one side and looked at me as if to say, “Huh?”

“And it’s also an anagram of ‘hard on’,” I pointed out. She burst out laughing.

“So it is!” she clapped her hands in delight. She had the most touching mannerisms. “I wonder if James has heard that one.”

“I’d be surprised if he hasn’t,” I replied, “physicists tell some of the dirtiest jokes.”

I noticed Amy had locked the door and was looking directly at me.

“OK John,” she said coyly. “Crunch time. Show me what you’ve got in those jeans.”

I looked suitably embarrassed and couldn’t really decide if I should do this. But she’d felt the hard casing, so what was the point of hiding it? I unbuckled my belt, opened my jeans and let them drop to the floor.

Luckily I’d changed out of Christine’s soiled panties as soon as I got back to Loughborough. I was now wearing nice, clean jockey shorts, so I slid them down and lifted the front of my shirt so she could get a better view.

Not surprisingly she’d lifted her hand to her mouth in that same quaint gesture. “Oh my word!” she gasped. Her hand was actually trembling slightly. “There’s even a lock on it! Can I…can I touch it?”

Oh God, I thought. What do I do here? “I suppose so,” I said slowly.

Amy crept forward as if my dick would explode at any moment. She gradually bent her knees as she approached, and reached out a trembling hand.

I noticed it just as she was inches away. “Hey! Are you left handed?” I exclaimed. “Me too!” Amy leaped back as though I’d electrocuted her.

“Good God, you frightened the life out of me!” she gasped, and then she blushed. “Oh sugar! You made me pee in my pants! You bugger!”

She twirled around and started to open the door. Since I was standing there “tackle out”, I thought it wise to yank up my underpants and jeans as quickly as I could. Amy dashed out to the toilets leaving me standing there. I seemed to remember the offer of coffee. All the dorm blocks were laid out on the same pattern, so it was easy for me to find the kitchen. Since this was a girls’ block everything was laid out in tidy groups – the cups all had names or initials written in nail varnish on the bases, and the coffee jars also had initials to indicate ownership. Girls were so much better organized, I thought.

I put the kettle on and began to look around for mugs. There was a couple with the initials “ACR” on. They were the only set of initials I could see beginning with “A”, so I guessed they must be Amy’s. By the time I’d found the right mugs and spooned in the coffee the kettle had boiled. I checked in the fridge and found a milk carton with “ACR” on. Since she kept milk I guessed she probably took it in her coffee. I like to add the milk first – coffee seems to taste better that way.

I had both hands full as I approached her closed door so I tapped on it with my foot.

After a few seconds the door opened. Amy was in a white toweling dressing gown and slippers. She seemed surprised to see me.

“It’s you!” she said. “I thought you’d run off! I had to change out of my jeans…”

“I was making our coffee,” I said, “you did offer. And I found the jar of decaf. Can I come back in?”

She did a double take and suddenly stepped back. “Err. Of course, that was sweet, thank you.”

I put the mugs down on the table. “How did you know those were my mugs?” she asked suspiciously.

“They were the only ones classy enough to be yours,” I said with a smile. “And also they were the only ones with a set of initials beginning with an ‘A’.”

“Clever. They were on offer at Tesco,” she pointed out wryly.

“Ah yes, but you could have bought the really cheap ones from the market like the other girls seem to have done.”

“And how did you know I take milk?” Even more suspicious now.

I sighed. “Because there was a milk bottle with ‘ACR’ on it in the fridge and it was half empty, so I thought if you went through that much milk…”

“OK, OK, so you’re a pervert and also the reincarnation of Sherlock Holmes.”

She came over and stood very close to me, picked up the coffee cup and took a sip, “Mmm. That’s just right,” she said quietly. “Who taught you to make such good instant coffee? Men are usually useless. Did your Mistress teach you?”

I ignored the teasing. “The secret is to put the milk in first,” I pointed out reasonably. Amy was very close to me. I could smell her hair.

I leaned down to pick up my coffee but Amy grabbed my hand first. She slid it around her waist, and then eased up on her toes to kiss me. Her lips were silky smooth and tasted of coffee. I drew her into me and kissed her back. After a while we gently drew our lips apart but stayed in the embrace. Amy rested her head on my chest.

“You smell really nice,” I whispered.

“Thanks,” she said. Her voice was muffled by my shirt.

I stroked her hair as we just stood there. I started to ease away from her, but she squeezed tighter. “Please don’t go yet,” she said, her head still buried in my chest.

“I think we both know I have to,” I whispered. I kissed her hair and gently tried to ease her arms away.

Amy looked up into my eyes. “You never did tell me. How will she punish you?” Her eyes were shining.

I took a deep breath and pondered the question. How much should I tell her? For some reason I wanted to tell her the truth. “If it’s Laura it won’t be too bad. But if it’s Christine, she seems to spend her days thinking up ways to inflict pain on me,” I chuckled.

“And you let her? Why?” Amy was crying a bit now. I realised I had to shut this down.

I took her hands in mine and led her over to the bed. I sat her down – but I didn’t want to sit on the bed in case that sent the wrong signal. Instead I crouched down in front of her.

“Please don’t judge us,” I told her softly, “Laura explained this to me this weekend. She’s a lovely girl – way out of my league. When we first met I thought she just wanted me as a bit of rough. But we stayed together, and I started to take her for granted. I’m not a very useful sort of bloke, not very fit or good looking, and I wasted my academic life so far. I think Laura just didn’t fancy the idea of marrying a loser like me so she started an affair with Christine, but I suppose she thought enough of me to see if I could fit into that relationship. And the only way I could fit was as their slave. She told me how special that made me. How many other men could she treat like that? I know it sounds stupid and pathetic even as I’m saying now, but for the first time I really want to do my best. Not just for Laura, but for me too. Shit, well I think I’d better stop talking!”

The tears were flowing down Amy’s cheeks. I saw a box of tissues on the bedside table and plucked a couple out for her. She wiped her eyes.

“John, that’s really sad,” she whispered. “I don’t know you, but you don’t seem like a loser to me.”

I sighed. This was way too deep for me. “Amy I’m so sorry, but I really have to go,” I told her. “Goodnight. It was truly a pleasure to meet you. Drink your coffee. I’ll wash up my cup.”

I kissed her on the forehead and left her feeling like a real shit, but what else could I do? I felt so alone as I walked back to my room.

The mobile phone ringing jarred me awake. I forced my eyes open and saw the clock read 1.15am. It was … early Monday morning! Christ I’d only been asleep for 20 minutes. I managed to grab the phone without dropping it and saw it was Christine’s mobile number calling. Oh no, what had happened for her to call at this time?

“Hello…” I croaked. “Christine, what’s the matter? Is Laura OK?”

“I’m sorry; I’m not used to being addressed that way. You’ve earned one punishment for that, so would you like to try again?” she snapped at me.

Suddenly my mind clicked into gear. If she was messing about with this Femdom stuff then this wasn’t an emergency call. Laura was fine, obviously. “Oh God. OK, sorry. I’m sorry Mistress Christine. It’s just that…” I managed to say before she stopped me.

“Never mind! Listen carefully, I shall say this only once,” she said the second part in that sexy French accent from Allo Allo. “OK, go to your bag – the one you took to our house this weekend. Open the side zip pocket. Go on!”

I stumbled out of bed, stepped on a pen and my foot almost slid out from under me. I gripped the phone and managed not to clear the call. The bag was in the wardrobe. I opened the wardrobe door and lifted the empty bag onto the bed. There was a zipped side pocket for maps or papers and the like. I opened it up but it was empty.

“It’s empty…Mistress,” I managed to tack on her title before she could get me again.

“Oooh so close to a second punishment!” she chuckled. “But you’re learning and that’s a good thing. Look more closely, maggot. There’s some black gaffer tape stuck to the inside of the pocket. Peel it off.” I could hear a kind of hesitation, or maybe a sense of expectation creeping into her voice.

I looked more closely into the pocket, and sure enough concealed against the black plastic inner side of the pocket I saw a patch of black gaffer tape, about two inches square. There was a lump underneath it. I peeled back the tape and the lump turned out to be a silver key.

“It’s a key, Mistress,” I said. I was on the ball with my manners now, even if I hadn’t a clue what was going on.

“Very good, you go to the top of the class. So Mr. University Student, what does that key open?” The hesitation had turned into a definite tremor of excitement in her voice. Christine was getting really worked up about something…and then it hit me.

“But you’ve got the key to the chastity padlock. Laura told me,” I stammered. I wedged the phone in the crook of my neck and grabbed the padlock. The key slipped right in – and turned! The lock popped open with a clunk.

“There’s a second key!” I said incredulously.

This time the shaking in her voice turned to open amusement. She was desperate not to burst out laughing. “You don’t get it, do you? I left the key with your lovely sweetheart. Her instructions were to hide it in your bag when she had the chance. After all, we had no idea if you were going to have some kind of crisis once you were stuck in that thing for more than a few hours. We had to have a backup plan just in case and you’re right you need to keep up your exercise program and so you need to be able to take that thing off while you’re in the gym or playing squash. So I had to leave the second key with Laura.”

Her words were like daggers in my brain Laura had been a part of this trick all along. So all weekend she’d kept me confined in this infernal device, teasing me, letting me give her pleasure again and again. She even made me submit to that prostate milking thing instead of a proper wank and all the time she would use the excuse that if only she actually had the key, she would release me. I suddenly felt helpless – I was panting, and sweating. I could hear Christine saying something in the phone.

“….feel right now? Can you hear me maggot?” she was shouting now to try and get my attention.

“Errr…sorry, I didn’t hear what you said,” I managed to blurt out.

“OK, that’s two punishments. In fact I think I even heard another slip earlier, so better make that three punishments so far this week. Bloody Hell, maggot, it’s one o’clock on Monday morning and you’ve already started the week with three punishment sessions. Do you think you’d better pay a bit more attention?” she asked, mocking me.

“Sorry Mistress,” I said at last. “I’m having a problem processing this, I’m sorry.”

“I said, maggot, tell me exactly how you’re feeling right now,” she repeated slowly.

“Errr. A bit dazed actually, err Mistress Christine.” I didn’t quite know what she was after.

“Try not to be totally thick you stupid maggot. Let’s recap on this weekend. You went to see your fiancée, and she had bought this fantastic sexy outfit for you. She was wearing it as you arrived at her door, right?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“But she didn’t let you touch her. Oh no. She gets you to strip off, wear a dog collar, and then best of all she gets you to wear a device that stops you getting a hard on or even from jerking off. Still correct, am I?”

“Yes Mistress, absolutely correct.” Each word she uttered seemed to put me deeper and deeper into a submissive state.

“Then she informs you that she doesn’t even have a key for this device, and yet she starts to tease you with her new outfit – knowing that you can’t become erect without considerable pain, and you certainly can’t make love to her. Am I still describing the situation accurately, maggot?”

“Yes Mistress, very accurately.”

“Let’s see what comes next,” she said. “Oh yes! She gets you to sign a slave contract that effectively acknowledges that you are our property, to use and abuse as we see fit. I know you didn’t read it, but you also committed to wear the chastity device at all times unless given specific permission by me. Me, by the way, not Mistress Laura, she’s too soft on you. So did you sign such a contract?”

“Yes Mistress, I did.”

“And is there a copy hanging above your desk?”

“Yes Mistress, I put it up already,” I confirmed, glancing at the framed contract on the wall.

“Then for the rest of the weekend Laura teased you and taunted you. I know she even milked you while you were wearing it, and you licked all the spunk off the glove like a kitten licking cream. I hope you enjoyed it by the way, it will be the only way you experience any kind of relief until further notice. Is that clear?”

“Yes Mistress, crystal clear.”

“And Mistress Laura tortured your nipples for a long time,” Christine continued, “in fact she treated them with ice to sooth them between sessions so that she could start all over again. But each time the pain would have got worse, isn’t that right?”

“Yes Mistress, it was terribly painful,” I said bleakly.

“And did you scream into the gag – into my dirty, sweaty knickers that were stuffed into your stupid mouth?”

“Yes Mistress, I screamed and screamed. I couldn’t beg Mistress Laura to stop because I was gagged.”

“And we never gave you a safe signal for when you were gagged, did we?”

“No Mistress.”

“But of course you could have just got off the bed. You were handcuffed, but you weren’t tied down, were you?”

“No Mistress.”

“So if it was really that painful – so painful you really couldn’t take it – you could have just walked away from her, couldn’t you?”

“Yes Mistress, I suppose I could have.”

“So you didn’t need a safe word or gesture at all,” Christine said triumphantly. “You took the pain because you wanted to, isn’t that right?”

“Yes Mistress, I took the pain because I wanted it. I needed it,” I was trembling now.

I heard a noise like a gasp on the other end. Then Christine cleared her throat. “And against my advice I know Laura let you go down on her again and again. But apparently you’re rather good at it so it’s something I’m going to have to put up with for the moment. And my question to you is – how do you feel about all this?” The tremble in her voice was back again.

“I think…” I began.

“Gooood, that’s a start,” she said sarcastically, “for once in your stupid male macho life try to think about your feelings, how did you feel?” Despite the insults Christine’s voice had become soft, almost tender.

“OK,” I said, and then it just started to pour out of me. “I felt very…turned on – it was crazy. I’d been dying for Laura to buy something really sexy so we could have a long session and at the end she’d jerk me off – maybe let me cum between her tits like she used to before. But it was frustrating. She was right there in front of me. Dressed in that outfit, it was…it was everything I’d imagined. And there was the sound of the PVC, and the smell and the shine, and she just looked so sexy. But I couldn’t – wasn’t allowed to do anything. Just when I thought it was too much, I just felt this wave of helplessness wash over me. And it felt…great – it felt really, really great.” I ran out of words, and was amazed to hear Christine chuckling into the phone.

“Well I lost track of how many times you forgot your manners in that rant,” she said, “but I’m so proud of you at this moment I’m going to forget that mistake. You still stay on three punishments, but I’ll forgive you the others, maggot.”

“Yes Mistress Christine. Thank you so much, Mistress Christine.” It was odd. I could hear much more confidence in my voice. I really meant every word of thanks.

“Very well,” she said sternly. “Now have you taken off the chastity device?”

“No Mistress, I only undid the lock. I’m not sure how to get it off yet,” I admitted.

“Good. I want you to think about this. Mistress Laura and I would both like you to wear the device for as long as possible during the week. We have to trust you on that account. According to your contract you are only allowed to remove the device with my express permission do you remember?”

“Yes Mistress Christine.”

“Good. I am giving you permission to remove the device for the gym and for squash and I will trust your judgment to remove it as soon before these activities as possible, and to replace it as soon after these activities as possible. Am I making myself clear?”

“Perfectly clear, Mistress Christine.”

“Excellent. So what are you going to do right now?” she asked.

I thought for a second. “I’m going to put the lock back in place, Mistress.”

“Fantastic. I’m very proud of you. Now do it, slave.”

For a moment I was taken aback, “You called me ‘slave’ Mistress, not ‘maggot’.”

“Yes I know I did,” Christine said. “I’m very proud of the progress you’ve made this weekend. I’m willing to promote you to slave for the moment. I know it seems difficult at times, but if you stay focused and try to open your mind to the possibilities of this relationship I think we will all get on very well indeed. I really feel that you’re beginning to understand. Now, you know what you must do.”

I slid the padlock back into the hole, twisted it into position and pressed the shackle into the lock. There was an audible “click” as it locked.

“I heard that well enough,” said Christine.

I stood there feeling incredibly proud of what I’d done. An amazing feeling of warmth for Mistress Christine was flowing through me but a second later my reverie was rudely interrupted.

“Aaargh. Ow!” I cried.

“What’s wrong?” said Christine. I could actually hear real concern in her voice.

“I’m so sorry, Mistress. I started to get erect, and…owwww. It hurts.”

“Oh dear slave,” Christine said in mock sympathy. “Well what are you going to do? You’ve got the key right there. What are you going to do?”

I looked at the key still resting on the table. The pain from my erection had actually stopped me getting too hard, and now it was already subsiding.

“It’s OK, Mistress,” I said, still gasping a bit, “my erection is already going down. I’m going to keep wearing the device as you command.”

“As I command, eh? Well I suppose that’s true. By the way slave, Laura told me about your conversations this weekend. Thank you for taking the time to paint our front door, it looks really nice.”

“Oh!” I said, quite shocked that Christine would thank me for anything. “You’re very welcome, I’m really glad that you like it.”

“You know slave,” she paused. “You know John; I think you might make a really good slave if you can stay focused. You know you can take that chastity device off right now and throw it in the bin. I suppose Laura would refuse to see you again, but you never know. You could take that chance at least you wouldn’t be in chastity anymore.”

I thought about what Christine said. “Mistress Christine,” I said carefully. This could always be one of Christine’s traps but to me it seemed like she was genuinely opening up. “I felt so angry when Laura locked me into this thing. I’ve very sorry, but a lot of that anger was directed at you. I…well I suppose I really hated you on Friday night.”

“John, I would be amazed if you’d reacted any other way,” she said kindly. “So how do you feel about me tonight?”

“I…I don’t,” I stammered, “I don’t really know. I want Laura to love me, I want her to respect me, and I don’t want her to think I’m a loser, Mistress Christine. I don’t want you to think I’m a loser either. I want to be a good slave for you both.”

“John, I meant it,” she said, “I think you really are going to be a good slave. And if you can stick to your goals, you won’t be a loser any more, will you?”

“No Mistress Christine!” I replied enthusiastically.

“You know John, I’m sorry I was hasty earlier. I don’t think we need to give you three punishments next weekend,” she told me.

“B-but Mistress Christine,” I said, “if you think I earned them it would be wrong for me not to take them.”

“It might be too soon to push you, dear,” she said softly.

“Would it make you respect me?” I asked. “Would it make you respect me, Mistress?” I added quickly.

“You know how you need to earn my respect, John,” she said firmly. “Keep to your goals!”

“But Mistress Christine,” I said carefully, “if I was to show you what a good slave I could be, I think that would make me happier. If it pleased you of course, maybe you should punish me properly – like spanking or something?”

“John, are you asking me to test you? To see how much you can take?” she asked.

“Oh heck!” I told her. “Don’t say it that way Mistress, please! You’re scaring me! But…I suppose that is what I’m asking, yes.”

There was a pause. “Goodness me,” she said. “You continue to surprise me!”

“Thank you, Mistress!” was all I could think of to say. “Thank you, Mistress Christine!”

Suddenly the old Christine seemed to snap back, “Right. That’s… well that’s really great progress, but now I need to go to sleep and you do too. I advise you to go straight to sleep, don’t mess around. The longer you dwell on things I think the more you will be tempted by the key. I am holding you on your honour now slave, do you understand me?”

“Yes Mistress Christine. You can trust me.”

There was a click and she was gone. No goodnight. She just hung up. For a few seconds, I looked at the phone and thought about what had just happened. I knew I’d made a significant change in my thinking. If nothing else I was looking at three punishment sessions that would include some kind of spanking or caning – goodness knows what else.

Suddenly I thought of Amy. Oh shit! What was going on there? At any other time I would have crawled across broken glass for the chance to go out with a girl like Amy. The events of this evening had been so fast – so intense. I was a bit worried that Amy might be hurt by this. I knew for sure that I shouldn’t see her again but maybe she wouldn’t want to see me anyway. It was all very well for her to think a sub/Dom relationship was “interesting” after a couple of large glasses of wine, but how would she feel about it in the cold – sober – light of day? And anyway – I was in chastity. What could possibly happen? Then again – I had the key to that chastity device. But if I told Amy that – would she still be interested in me? Was it the fact that she couldn’t have me – or rather that I couldn’t have her – that made her interested in me at all?

All at once I felt a wave of tiredness sweep over me. It was all so complicated! I flopped back down onto the bed and switched out the light. I felt the weight of the chastity device against my thighs and all at once I felt…cared for. I knew there were two people who would spend a considerable amount of time thinking about how to abuse me next weekend. And I thought of Christine; I thought of her beautiful breasts, always straining against her bras, the slash of red that marked her lips, and her nails were always immaculately covered in polish. Why was it never chipped? I remembered the one time I was allowed to watch Christine and Laura kissing, while I was ironing their washing, and wearing clothes pegs on my nipples. As I mused I felt the now familiar swell of my dick inside the chastity device, and felt it correct itself as the pressure built up to pain. Maybe I could live this way. Christine had been so sweet on the phone. The way she’d been so emotional when I gave her my gift. I felt myself drifting off to sleep. But then BRRRING! The phone rang again. I scrambled out of bed and went over to the table. It was Christine again.

“Yes Mistress Christine?”

“Slave, you have ninety seconds to take a picture of your groin and a picture of the Contract on the wall and send them to my phone. If I do not see that you’re wearing the chastity device I will triple your punishments – triple the three punishments you already earned. Woe betides you if you’ve given in to temptation. Nine sessions will take all weekend and if there isn’t time for me to administer all of them I will carry them over to the next weekend. You will not get away with it. Ninety seconds. The clock starts now.”

The call cleared before I could say another word. Frantically I positioned the phone so that it was pointing at my groin. Thank God I hadn’t taken it off. I had to try three times before I found the picture button. There was a flash and I spun the phone back round to see the picture. It was out of focus and washed out because the flash was too close to the subject but I could clearly see the CB3000 padlocked to my dick. The picture of the Contract was better. Conscious of the ticking clock I quickly worked my way through the phone messaging menus and hit send. I flopped back down onto the bed. I had no idea how long it all took, if I was in time or not. My heart was pounding. I had to take a long pull from the bottle of water by my bed. I was so tired.

I jumped as the phone beeped with an incoming message. I clicked to display it.

Good.

Will require more proof over the next week.

You may sleep now.

C

XXX