“I imagine I’m not what you expected.”
You can say that again.
I had the uncomfortable feeling that whatever I said, the woman would see right through me in a flash. “I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
But I’d had my suspicions. Rather unflattering suspicions at that. Revealing them would no doubt make me seem shallow or worse, as if I’d come prepared to throw stones in the glasshouse that was my own physical frame, which I had taken little care of in the years since my wife…
No, let’s not go there. Suffice to say that I looked as if my fifty-odd years had taken their toll, while Virginia looked magnificent. And she wasn’t about to let the topic rest. “You must have formed some idea…?”
I shrugged. “Never trust an avatar,” I ventured. Her profile gave very little information either.
But the stories…
Never trust those either, I’d thought. Or at least, never imagine that a person’s stories are true, or even any kind of reflection of their real lives. If I’d imagined anything it had been quite the opposite of the stories.
“Let me guess,” Virginia said. “You’re wondering what a woman like me is doing spending quiet evenings in writing smut when she could have anyone she wanted.”
Yes, she can see right through me.
“No lack of self-confidence,” I observed.
The remark made her lips curl. “So, I finally get to meet an admirer, though I’m still not sure why…”
Nor was I. Why had I suggested we meet? Idle curiosity? Because I was tired of having nothing much to do on a Thursday evening? Or because of…
The most delicious description of anal sex it had ever been my pleasure to read…
It seemed forward to say as much. It would seem as if I had designs on her. I hadn’t. I had a theory that erotic story writing was a way of living vicariously, a theory that precluded hope. No designs; at least not until I’d clapped eyes on her, what, twenty minutes ago. But no, what was the point? She may look gift-wrapped, but whoever’s name was on the label, it surely wasn’t mine.
“I’ve never met an author,” I ventured. “So we’re on an equal footing.”
“Oh, I’m hardly that.”
“You could have fooled me.”
She shifted. Hand went to glass; glass went to impressively glossed lips. It was pricy poison, the kind you savour. “I imagine there are things you’d like to know…”
Where do you get your inspiration from?
Do you find writing as effortless as you make it seem?
How much of what you write have you actually experienced?
How long can you write before stopping to rub one out?
Questions, either clichéd or inappropriate. Somehow I managed to avoid phrasing my curiosity in ways that would make me come across as a creep with ulterior motives. Enough at any rate for us to get on quite well. Or maybe the drinks took gravity out of the equation. I got the feeling that, tipsy or not, Virginia didn’t suffer fools gladly.
Answers, either cryptic or insubstantial. I ended up revealing more about myself than eliciting information about Virginia, or her writing.
And then she lobbed the grenade, just as I was draining the last of my third drink.
“You have the look about you of a man who wants to take me out the back and do me.”
Who wouldn’t?
“Never on a first date.”
Virginia seemed quietly impressed. “Maybe I’ll let you pay for the drinks next time.”
Meaning?
“Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
There was no point in getting my hopes up. I had the uncomfortable feeling that Virginia was toying with me, that our whole conversation was for her amusement alone. And yet, that ‘maybe’ was the closest I’d come to sex in seven years, ever since…
No, let’s not go there. Virginia may not have been what I’d expected, but she was intriguing. And infuriating. And intoxicating. I re-read her stories, hoping to impress her with in-depth knowledge of them, with pertinent observations and intelligent inquiries. In some respects, it was child’s play. If I’d impressed at university with my close reading of Westward Ho! I could easily impress and flatter Virginia with a close reading of her literary output.
I should have known better. It should have been obvious to me that Virginia wasn’t easily impressed, and even less inclined to show that she was impressed. She remained cryptic and inscrutable. She was intriguing, and infuriating. And intoxicating.
And then the bombshell, just as the waitress had delivered our third drinks.
“You need to know three things. I don’t swallow, I don’t do facials and I don’t do anal.”
Just as I thought. You revel in it in print, but when push comes to shove…
If I hadn’t been so infuriated, perhaps another interpretation of her words might have suggested itself. Instead, I sounded petulant, vexed. “What do you let a man do? Polish your latex dress?”
Can you actually hear yourself, you fucking twerp?
Virginia seemed unperturbed, but then she seemed to me the most unflappable person I’d ever met. “If I really like a man, I let him wear it.”
Yeah, like that’s ever going to happen…
“That would come at a price you’re not willing to pay.”
I watched Virginia carefully as she raised her glass to lips that seemed deliberately dramatized to give a man ideas. An intuition came to me, that I’d passed some kind of test, though I couldn’t think what.
“There’s always room for negotiation.”
Only if it ends in me fucking your arse, spraying your face with my cum, scraping it off with a spoon and feeding it to you…
“What do you have in mind?”
Virginia gave as sweet a smile as I imagined she was capable of. “Excuse me a minute.”
It was never going to happen. Nothing was ever going to happen. She was stringing me along for her own perverse pleasure. But I followed her exquisitely defined arse as she moved towards the toilets, remembering that oh too delicious description of cock stretching sphincter that had made me suggest a meeting in the first place. Or had she suggested we meet? I couldn’t be certain anymore.
Then she was back. Much sooner than I expected, but then her nose hadn’t seemed to require any powder. She sat down and launched a hand in my direction, narrowly missing her own drink. A piece of cloth slid across the table.
I grabbed it. “What’s this?” As if I didn’t know.
“I’m negotiating.”
No, you’re not…
“Shouldn’t that be ‘we’re negotiating?’”
As expected, Virginia proceeded as if she hadn’t even heard me, nodding at my hand. “Wear those on our next date, and I’ll make sure it’s worth it.”
“Is that your opening gambit?” I looked round to make sure no-one was looking before inspecting the fabric. Black satin, not exactly skimpy, but not in the least bit roomy enough for male tackle either.
“Take it or leave it.”
Definitely not a negotiation.
“Define ‘worth it.’”
“Do we have a deal?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Same time, same place next week and you’ll find out.”
Virginia smiled and took another sip from her glass. “Wear the panties and I’ll definitely let you pay for the drinks.”
Was the game worth the candle? I managed to persuade myself that it wasn’t. Then I made the mistake of holding Virginia’s used panties up to my nose.
I’d arrived home by then. I was still slightly woozy, but Virginia’s aroma took intoxication to an entirely new level. Eyes closed, I laid back with her panties draped over my face, picturing her, and made a deal with myself to do this one thing. I awoke with a splitting headache, having drooled all over the satin and with congealed semen on my belly.
What were you thinking? No fucking way…
And yet come Thursday evening, there I was.
This time Virginia waylaid me before I’d made it through the doors. “This way,” she said. “I’m not going to just take your word for it.”
Why would you?
The alley smelled of biodegradables biodegrading. “Slumming it,” I said, eyeing Virginia carefully. The black nylons, her heels, the tight red dress, hair the colour of chestnuts roasting casually caressing her collar bone, the kind of back-to-nature beauty about her face that only extremely expensive cosmetics could achieve; all so upmarket a man might wonder how she came to tread the same streets as ordinary proles.
“Show!” she said, a wicked twinkle in her eye.
You really had better make this worth it.
Belt, button, zip, as quickly as I could. I didn’t exactly pull my trousers down, just manoeuvred them enough to allow Virginia to see what she wanted.
“How does it feel?”
“Three’s a crowd in these.”
It was rare for her to laugh, but she did so now. “Some men have a thing for wearing lingerie.”
Maybe I’m not some men…
I’d done my trousers back up, and as Virginia turned to head back out of the alley, I reached out, fingers just about grazing her dress before her hand came back to slap my arm away.
“Steady on! I said it would be worth your while, not that you could take liberties.”
It was just a touch… It doesn’t come near worth the while…
Haste was going to get me nowhere. We went inside. One drink each went down, an accompaniment to the usual circuitous conversation, skirting everything of importance. The waitress brought seconds. Virginia seemed to have forgotten all about the deal we’d made.
Don’t let her get away with it.
“Are you going to make this embarrassment worth my while, or not?”
Virginia smiled. She looked unconscionably happy – fiendishly so. “How about a facial?”
It would be a start… Do I get the full oral treatment, or resort to the old hand jive?
“I thought you didn’t do facials.”
Virginia licked her lips. “I don’t.” She pointed. “But I’m sure she does.” I followed the line of her finger, spying a brunette sitting at the bar in a short skirt. I was seeing her in profile; a thin but well-defined face with a black fringe singing dramatically charred eyes. “Why don’t you go over and ask her?”
You really are an olive short of a martini.
“Are you for real?”
“I was the last time I pinched myself.”
“You can’t expect me to just wander up to a complete stranger and ask for… that.”
Virginia shrugged. “Trust me. I have a nose for these things. She wants it. I can tell.”
Trust you? I’d wear that latex dress sooner than trust you.
“Yeah, well, my nose is telling me something doesn’t smell right.”
“Go on! What’s stopping you?”
“The thought of being pilloried on social media as hashtag perverted predator, for starters.”
There was silence. Virginia lifted her glass and downed half of it in one. “I’m disappointed.”
You’re disappointed? Well, you’ve had your little fun and I’m not playing any more.
There was no third drink. Virginia may claim to be disappointed, but she didn’t seem too put out. Not that I cared either way. It had been interesting while it lasted.
Little did I know that interesting was just the prefix.
This became apparent the very next morning. I got off the bus at the usual stop at the usual time, heading for the office. I hadn’t moved many steps before I felt someone touch my shoulder and heard a voice. “Excuse me, sir.”
I turned, expecting to see a down-and-out or a con artist, but found myself face to face with her, the brunette from the bar, her eyes all but obscured by the low hanging fringe.
What the hell is this?
I waited. The brunette spoke. “Don’t you want to cum on my face, sir?” It sounded like an accusation.
“I’m sorry. I have to…” I pointed at my wrist, at a non-existent watch.
“Later?” the brunette suggested. “I would so love for you to cum on my face, sir.”
This is too bizarre. There’s something wrong. Don’t trust her.
“Flattered, I’m sure. But…”
“Please, please, please, sir. I give excellent head. You don’t have to do a thing. I’ll do it all. I relish the thought of your sticky cum all over my face, sir.”
Rush hour people were passing on either side of us. Two busses pulled up at once. It was a surreal conversation to be having in the middle of the street.
“I’m sorry… Must go!”
I left her standing there. It was an unnerving experience, and one that made me feel out of kilter the whole day. It was some kind of set up, that much was clear. Moreover, the whole thing smacked of fierce derangement. I began to feel that Virginia was dangerous rather than intriguing.
Come the end of the working day, I left the office and turned a corner only to come face to face with the brunette yet again. “Do you have time to plaster my face with sperm now, sir?”
This can’t go on…
“Seriously…”
“I’m such a cumslut, sir. I need it! I need your creamy cum all over my face. I’m an expert at giving oral pleasure, but if sir would rather take control himself, I’d be up for that. Anything… As long as sir offloads on my face!”
It’s all words. Put in her mouth by…
The brunette was speaking too loud. The pavement was crowded. I saw someone turn.
“I’m sorry…”
“But, sir, you don’t understand!”
More looks.
“Calm down…”
“But sir, Mistress will punish me if I return home without evidence.”
“Mistress?”
Why ask when it’s bleedin’ obvious?
“Mistress Virginia, sir.”
I snapped. “Well, you can tell Mistress Virginia that I’ll cum on your face the day she lets me fuck her arse.”
It may have been a vulgar parting shot, but I was pleased with myself nonetheless, even though a harried-looking woman with two huge carrier bags looked at me in shock.
The sense of triumph didn’t last long. Back home I started to worry. This was obviously no chance meeting. Virginia had put the brunette up to it, but how did she know my routine? Had she followed me? Had she had someone else follow me? Did she know where I lived? That wouldn’t have been hard to find out, since we’d exchanged phone numbers.
The last thing I need in my life is a crazy person...
But crazy was no more than the prologue. I’d just settled in front of the TV when my mobile sounded. Virginia’s number. At first I wasn’t going to answer. Then I decided it might be worse not to.
Make sure you end this, now.
“Hello.”
There was no reply. That was odd. I was about to cut the call when I heard a voice, distant-sounding, pleading. “I’m sorry, Mistress. I did my best.” The brunette.
“Clearly not!”
There was a sound. I was as sure as I could be that it was the sound of a buttock being struck.
“Please, Mistress! I swear to you! I did my best!”
“How useless do you have to be if you can’t persuade a man to spunk all over your filthy face?”
This time a shriek followed the buttock-slap. “Have pity on your servant, Mistress!”
Virginia laughed, and in my mind’s eye, I saw a cartoon villain. “There’ll be no mercy for you. What use are you to anyone if you can’t get a man to…”
I cut the call.
Interesting. Worrying.
Things were starting to become more fathomable, though I was still pretty sure I wanted nothing more to do with Virginia. She wrote excellent stories, but clearly, her idea of real-life fun was very different to mine. As for the brunette… In other circumstances getting to know her better might not be the worst thing that could happen to a man, but in other circumstances, why would she be interested in a slightly the worse for wear fifty-odd-year-old?
As it happened, Virginia seemed to have lost interest too. Come Thursday I’d almost ceased to think of her at all. That was when the text message arrived.
“Drinks? Same time, same place.”
Don’t. There’s nothing in it for you. Nothing at all. You’re best shot of her.
“OK.”
Today Virginia was wearing a tight, black top that gave a curious illusion of being transparent, even though it clearly wasn’t. It achieved what I assumed to be the desired effect, that I sat staring at Virginia’s bosom expecting revelation where there was none. She sipped her drink with an eye full of mischief.
“I’m impressed,” she said.
I hoisted my own glass. “With what?”
It wasn’t in Virginia’s nature to answer a simple question. “So impressed that I’m minded to let you taste me.”
Don’t believe a word.
“I draw the line at licking your elbow.”
“You know what I mean.”
No, I don’t. I never know what you mean.
But I was sucked in instantly, knowing perfectly what she was hinting at, even if I didn’t really believe she meant it.
And then she leaned across the table. “I mean it,” she said, her breath suddenly pure seduction floating my way like a toxic gas. “Come back to my place and I’ll let you taste my pussy.”
And if I do, will you suck my dick?
“Anything else?”
“You can taste whatever you like.”
I may not know what you mean, but you know perfectly well what I mean.
But I was bewitched. Only the one drink this time, then a taxi to Virginia’s place. Swanky address, new-build. Walls that looked as if they’d be insulted if you tried to hang a picture. Furniture straight from a lifestyle magazine. Parquet floors. Window blinds drawn.
Virginia poured me a large, instantly potent concoction, then excused herself. I wanted to explore, but didn’t want to be caught exploring, so I remained seated, alcohol dulling reservations. It took so long for the woman to return I was considering just getting up and leaving, but for whatever reason, I remained seated.
When Virginia did return, she had that look on her face, the one that told me she was up to no good. She had her hands behind her back too. “Do you still want to taste my pussy?”
“That’s what we agreed on.”
Virginia’s eyes gleamed, her lips twisted like a corkscrew. Her arms moved and suddenly she was holding up a big, black, ribbed dildo with a very naturalistic head. “I had some real me time out the back, so the taste of my pussy should be all over it.” She assumed a mock coquettish position. “Open wide!”
“You want me to suck that thing?”
The look in her eyes was depraved. “It’s the only way you’re going to get to taste my pussy. At least tonight.”
You’re never going to get to taste her pussy, you fool. Or do anything else…
“Alright. I’ll do it.” Virginia took a step forward. She held the dildo up to my face, so close that I could see and smell her me time on it. “But only if you let me fuck your arse first.”
Once again, I experienced that peculiar situation where Virginia seemed impressed by my reaction. She pulled the fake cock away, a look on her face as if she was actually considering it. “Perhaps you need a little encouragement.” Then she called out. “Subservia! Come here! Make yourself useful!”
I don’t know why I was surprised; the clue had been there. But somehow I was amazed to see the brunette’s naked frame appear at Virginia’s side.
“How long has it been since you sucked a real, flesh and blood cock, Subservia?” Virginia asked.
“At least a month, Mistress Virginia,” came the answer. Then she added, “Which is an eternity for a cocksucking cumslut like me.”
“Then think of our guest as my gift to you.”
“You’re so good to me, Mistress Virginia!”
It’s not what it seems. It can’t be. Nothing is what it seems where Virginia is concerned.
But then the brunette was kneeling in front of me. Her fingers were undoing my trousers. And she spoke. “I’m so glad I finally get to acquaint myself with your cock, sir. I’ve been so horny for it for a week, sir. I so wanted your cum when we spoke. I was so looking forward to taking you in my mouth and making you explode. I really wanted your cum, sir. I wanted a big load all over my face! I wanted to scrub my face with your cum, sir. I love cum! I want your cum so bad, sir.”
Then she had her face in my crotch, rubbing herself against my dick.
It’s a trick. It has to be a trick. Don’t fall for it. At least ask what the catch is…
But something was happening. The years since my wife… but we won’t go there… Quite simply, I didn’t want to resist. The brunette’s fingers were holding me, her hand moving up and down as her tongue swept over the glans. Then my cock was in her mouth, slathered with warm saliva. Her tongue slithered, her lips clinging to my shaft. Perhaps years of abstinence made it feel better than it was, or perhaps the brunette was the expert she’d claimed, but oral sex had never felt so good.
Without the stiff drink, I might have ejaculated immediately. Instead, I was able to extend the enjoyment as she went deeper before pulling off, working her tongue up and down, wiping the head against both cheeks, then feasting on me again, a greedy movement of lips up and down, up and down.
Then her fingers alone were manipulating me, tapping, gripping, caressing as she looked up at me wide-eyed. “You have such a lovely cock, sir! It’s so big and fine! I can’t wait for it to spurt all over my cum-loving face!”
Virginia’s voice pierced the scene. “Enough! Release the cock, slut!”
Immediately the brunette sat up straight, staring at my rigid pole, but keeping her hands clasped in front of her. There was that look on Virginia’s face again, the one that spelled trouble. She came right up close, holding the dildo in front of me.
“If you want Subservia to jerk you off, if you want to cum all over the little slut’s face, you’ll suck this cock!”
I’ll fucking well hose your face down before I do…
“No way!” I snarled. And then something snapped. I imagine that in my alcoholic haze I took a dim view of being denied. At any rate, the brunette’s head was in my hands. No, not head, the hair on the sides of her head. “You want my cum, you fucking earn it!”
Where was this coming from? And where did I find it in me to shove her down on my cock? Right the way down, making her splutter but refusing to let go, at least not at once. Letting her come up, but not all the way, shoving her back down. There was saliva and drool and the sound of retching as I worked her head on me. For two pins I’d have kept working her on my cock until the end, but the promise of that facial was there, at the back of my mind.
I pushed her up straight and rose, standing over her, one hand holding her in position by her hair, the other pumping my cock like a madman until thick ropes of sperm were like latticework on her face. The stuff was everywhere. It looked like the work of two men when I collapsed back into the armchair.
“Useless slut!” Virginia sneered. “Why didn’t you put up a fight?”
“I’m sorry, Mistress Virginia,” the brunette gasped. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Don’t you? Well, I do! You never could resist a good throat-fucking, could you? And you haven’t even thanked the nice man!”
The brunette turned her eyes on me, sperm clinging to her face like a liquid Rorschach test, her hands still clasped as if she was at prayer. “Thank you, kind sir. Thank you for treating me like the filthy cumslut I am.”
You’re welcome.
“Open your mouth!” Virginia barked.
The brunette complied while Virginia reached round and deftly inserted the dildo she’d been holding all this while. “You will keep that thing in there until told otherwise. Is Subservia clear about that?”
“Mmmhmmmm,” the brunette replied.
“Now pour our guest a drink and assume the position. I won’t be long.”
The brunette took my glass and made her way over to the drinks cabinet while Virginia left the room. She poured and returned, presenting an obscene sight with her cum-drenched face and the black dildo inserted in her face. Saliva was dribbling from the corners of her mouth. She put the glass down next to me.
Don’t accept it. You’ve had your fun. Make your excuses and leave.
I took the glass and swallowed half of the liquid while the brunette sank to her knees in the middle of the room and placed her hands on the back of her head. Virginia was already returning, heels on expensive woodwork announcing her imminent arrival. She’d pulled on a pair of black latex gloves and was carrying a tray draped with a towel. There was silence as she put the tray down, moved the towel away and examined the contents. It was only when she’d made her choice that I saw that the tray was laden with old-fashioned rubber stamps.
Still, without a word, Virginia moved to the brunette. She used the towel to wipe Subservia’s face clean of the sperm that remained there, though leaving the liquid that had adhered to the woman’s dark fringe, then applied a rubber stamp. I stared as Virginia moved back to the tray. Across the brunette’s left cheek letters spelled out, “THROAT-FUCKED CUM-FREAK.”
Surely she can’t…
I had to ask. “Does that wash off?”
“It wears off in time,” Virginia said, with her back to me. “But don’t worry. The little slut loves advertising her abilities. Don’t you, Subservia?”
“Eff, iffftrrrffff ur-iinn-aaaa.”
Virginia chose a new rubber stamp, returning to apply it just above the brunette’s right breast. “DISOBEDIENT SERVING GIRL.” It seemed to me that Subservia’s nipples swelled a little as the stamp was applied, but maybe I was just imagining things.
Hatters have nothing on this woman. Get out of here while you still can, before she tires of the brunette and…
A third rubber stamp, right on the brunette’s stomach. “HOLES FOR STRETCHING.”
“Remain in situ!”
“Eff, iffftrrrffff ur-iinn-aaaa.”
Virginia disappeared and I drained the remainder of the drink. My head was swimming, and not just because of the alcohol. I stared at the brunette and the letters on her skin.
Get the hell out of here. What’s the matter with you?
Once again Virginia took her time before returning, and what she’d been up to remained a mystery. By now the alcohol really was getting to me. I wondered briefly if I’d been slipped something, being in too much of a daze to have any sense of what I was feeling. Virginia positioned herself behind the brunette, reached round and rolled full nipples between gloved fingers. Then she pulled, then she twisted. The brunette shrieked. The dildo fell from her mouth onto the floor.
The result was by now predictable. “I don’t think I’ve ever known such a useless fucking minion,” Virginia spat. “What are you, Subservia?”
Drool flowed over the brunette’s chin as she answered. “I’m sorry, Mistress Virginia! I want to please you, honestly…”
“Just tell me what you are!”
The brunette swallowed. “I don’t mean to displease you, Mistress Virginia.”
A gloved hand slapped the brunette’s tits, one after the other. “What are you, slut?”
The brunette gurgled. “I’m your obedient servant, Mistress Virginia.”
“My useless servant, you mean.”
Stop!
Somehow I didn’t voice the sentiment aloud. Even in my stupor, I grasped that I held the key to making Virginia stop, but was resolved not to do the thing she wanted me to, even though it alone would suffice.
Subservia was still trying to placate her mistress. “I don’t mean to…”
“And yet you have your uses. Come, slut!”
The two women left the room, leaving me where I was. I can’t be sure how long I sat there, only that I felt drowsy, coming to when a loud scream reached me.
“Ow! Please, sir! Please come quick! Please don’t let Mistress Virginia hurt me!”
It’s a game. It’s a damn fool perverted game. Stop falling for Virginia’s infernal tricks.
And yet instead of just leaving, I shuffled in the direction of what were now loud moans, buttoning my trousers as I went. It certainly didn’t sound as if the brunette was suffering in any way.
She was tied up though. Her position was such that she was kneeling on the floor, bent over the bed. One metal rod between her ankles and another between her knees kept her from closing her legs. Her arms were outstretched, her wrists tightly bound and chained to the metal bed frame. As for Virginia, she’d changed into a black latex dress and was on the bed, straddling the brunette, facing the door.
She flashed me a leer of uncompromising depravity as I leaned against the doorjamb, without for a second breaking her stride as she drove a huge red dildo back and forth in Subservia’s cunt. When I say huge, I mean massive, the kind of size only a freak of a woman could accommodate.
“Thank you, Mistress Virginia!” the brunette gasped. “Thank you for letting me offer my cunt to you and for using it in the most deserving way.”
Virginia pulled the dildo from Subservia and gave me a certain look. There was a metal disc right over the girl’s anus, the base of a plug. Virginia tapped on it. “I’ll let you remove this and replace it with your cock,” she said. “I’ll let you fuck the arse off this little trollop.” Then she waved the dildo at me. “If you agree to suck on this!”
Surely she must have got the message by now that there was no way I was going to do that, even had I been confident of getting my lips round it. “Not a chance,” I said. But I did make a grab at my crotch, the scene in front of me having its effect in spite of everything.
As I did so, I saw Virginia reach for something. I hadn’t seen it lying on the bed, I’d been too preoccupied with the other things that had been going on. Now I did see the paddle as Virginia angled it. She moved it sharply, so that it struck Subservia’s labia.
I found myself hoping the flat was well sound-proofed. If anyone heard the scream they’d be calling the police. “Please, sir! Please do what Mistress Virginia wants! Please suck on the dildo!”
“What’s on the dildo?” Virginia barked, bringing the leather into harsh contact with the girl’s vulva once again.
“Please, sir! Please suck on the dildo! Please taste Subservia’s horny cunt juice!”
Is it really that hard to grasp that there are limits to how far I’m prepared to be played?
“Much as it would please me to fuck your little arse off, it pleases me more to see your wretched frame used by your mistress,” I said.
Where the hell did that come from?
Virginia looked pleased, not to say smug. There was another slap, leather meeting petals. Another screech. “Please, sir! I beg of you, sir!” Then the paddle was tossed to one side. It was time for the dildo again, Subservia moaning as she was stretched wide, her pussy squelching as Virginia plunged the fat fake cock back and forth.
Then she was holding the thing up. It was white with cream now. “What do you say?” Virginia asked with that gleam in her eye. “It’s a small thing, really.”
Small, it’s fucking huge.
“Suck on it, and you get to fuck the little slut’s arse.”
“No dice.”
Subservia intervened, apparently having decided on a new tack of her own volition. “Please suck on the dildo, sir! Please taste my juices, sir! I need a cock up my arse, sir! I need your cock up my arse!”
That caused Virginia to give one of her not-quite laughs. “Isn’t she delightful? How can you resist her?”
Somehow I found that I could. It was easy. I just turned and walked away.
“If you leave now, I’ll ram this fat dildo up the little slut’s arse!” Virginia called after me.
“But it will kill me!” Subservia shrieked.
It will no doubt be extremely uncomfortable, but you’re the psycho-authoress’s bargaining chip. She needs you alive…
I made a conscious decision to forget all about Virginia and the brunette. It wasn’t as if I’d ever believed anything would come of that first meeting in the first place, so what had I lost?
It would be dishonest of me to pretend that I was entirely successful, especially at nights, when my conscious mind was turned off. In one particularly disturbing dream, I married the brunette, only for Virginia to abduct her on the wedding night. But by and large, I managed to get on with my life. Come the Thursday I had a moment of trepidation when I thought Virginia might get in touch and suggest drinks, but text silence ensued.
She’s tired of you. Or at least tired of the game.
It came as a relief. And I let my guard down.
On the Friday evening, I left the office thinking I might treat myself to the cinema. I was in a good mood, perhaps because I felt free of the sinister web I’d been trapped in.
I’d walked no more than a hundred yards down the street when I found myself face to face with someone I recognized only too well.
“Good evening, sir. I’ve missed you.”
I knew Virginia wouldn’t kill you…
“What do you want?”
The brunette gave me a deferential look, then she swept the dark fringe away from her forehead for a brief moment, long enough for me to make out the rubber-stamped words there: “FUCK ME”.
More fun and games… Keep your resolve man…
“You can tell Virginia, I’m done playing.”
The brunette looked disappointed. “But sir, maybe Virginia doesn’t know Subservia is here. Maybe I want you to fuck me.”
Yeah, go on, pull the other one.
I stepped to one side so as to walk on. The brunette fell into step beside me. “It felt so good when you took charge of me in such a masterful way, sir. I’ve been longing to experience it again ever since, sir. Please allow me the pleasure of being your obedient cumslut, sir.”
I couldn’t have her talking like this to me in the street. “If you promise to keep quiet,” I said, “You can come back to my place and we can talk about it.”
You fool. What are you saying?
The woman took my words as a command, saying not another word, but following alongside me down the street; standing next to me at the bus stop; following me on to the bus; standing next to me on the journey; getting off when I got off; then walking down the street alongside me to my home.
What will the neighbours be thinking? Why should they think anything? Inviting a woman home isn’t a crime. Even if it is the first time since… But let’s not go there.
As soon as the door slammed shut behind us, the woman undid her coat without a word. She was wearing a black, tight-fitting top that made her breasts look larger and more spherical than I remembered. Below, the black pair of tights that had been visible below her coat was the only thing she was wearing, aside from four-inch heels.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked.
The brunette merely tilted her head to one side. “I am here to serve you, sir.” She swept the fringe away from her forehead, exposing the obscene branding again.
This was exasperating. I led the woman into the living room, indicating the sofa. “Take a seat.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Regardless of how she felt, I decided I needed a stiff one. I poured two, not wanting to be a bad host. “Thank you, sir,” the brunette said, taking the drink, but immediately putting the glass down on the table. I downed mine in one and poured another before taking my place in the armchair. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“I am Subservia, sir.”
I sighed. “I mean your real name. The one you were born with.”
The brunette stared at me with dispassionate eyes. “That is irrelevant, sir. I am Subservia. I go by no other name.” Her legs came apart slightly as she spoke. I tried not to look at the treat sheer nylon did little to conceal.
I tried again, “What do you do when you’re not being Subservia?”
“That is irrelevant, sir. I am always Subservia. I am here to serve you, Sir. Please let me serve you.”
You forget that I know who you really serve…
“What’s the catch?”
“The catch, sir?” Spoken with exaggerated naïvity. Spoken like a bad actor. In fact, every word I’d ever heard her speak made her sound as if she mined pornographic clichés for a living.
You may as well ask directly.
“Virginia sent you, didn’t she?”
If Subservia spoke like a bad actress, she was brilliant at keeping a poker face. “Maybe I just want sir to…” Again she swept her fringe to one side, letting the inky letters speak for her.
“No maybes. Has Virginia sent you?”
There was a flicker in the woman’s eyes, which might signify anything from nerves to relish. “Maybe Subservia is just a disobedient slut who can’t help herself, sir. Maybe she needs to be put in her place.”
You don’t need me for that. Not when you have Virginia.
I rose, heading back towards the hall for the phone which I’d left in my jacket pocket. “Maybe I should call Virginia and ask her.”
“No!” The brunette was on her feet in a flash. Then she threw herself at mine. “Please don’t call Mistress Virginia, sir!”
“Why not? What’s the worst that can happen?”
You don’t seem the kind to object to the worst in any case.
“Please, sir! Mistress Virginia mustn’t know that I’m here, sir!” She didn’t exactly sound terror-stricken, but there was still something about her tone that prevented me from writing her words off as mere play-acting. I didn’t trust her, but I couldn’t bring myself to distrust her. She was on her knees now, pulling on my zip. Some instinct compelled me to push her away. She toppled backwards. A smile lit up her face. “Please let Subservia serve you,” she breathed. “Subservia must serve or she is nothing.”
“Is that Subservia or Mistress Virginia speaking?”
The woman bounced back up, her fingers heading for my belt. “Thank you for using my real name, sir.” She undid the buckle in a flash. “Please let Subservia serve you!”
I grabbed her wrists, forcing her hands away from me. “How about you tell me exactly what the fuck is going on? Truthfully.”
My boxers had become visible where my trousers had opened. Subservia wrenched her hands free and began pulling on the undergarment, still smiling. “Subservia must be allowed to serve you, sir. Please allow Subservia to satisfy your every whim, sir.” She exposed my shaft as she spoke. The virile swelling suggested that whatever reservations I had were entirely mental rather than physical. As the brunette’s tongue emerged between her lips, I put my hands on her shoulders, pushing her back.
“The truth!” I barked.
Subservia leaned back in. “Maybe sir might consider fucking the truth out of Subservia.”
You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Or should that be, Virginia would love that?
That was when it happened, some kind of malfunction affecting the wiring in my head. I wasn’t seeing Subservia, I was seeing Virginia. Feeling the blood pulsing in my cock I slapped it against the woman’s mouth. The groan of pleasure that emerged only enflamed me. I was on my feet, standing over the woman. “Fucking beg for it!” I snarled. “Tell me how much you want me to fuck each and every one of your fucking holes!”
I wasn’t talking to Subservia, but to Virginia. If there was a reply, I didn’t hear it. I’d left reality, and back on planet earth, my recollections are incomplete. Being Subservia, I imagine she replied with enthusiasm. I have a dim memory of her telling me over and over how much she wanted me to use her. Somewhere I seem to recall slapping her face with my cock over and over; somewhere I have an idea of Subservia panting about having no other purpose in life than being used, that she would submit if I decided she needed to be punished.
I didn’t want to punish Subservia. I wanted to punish Virginia, and it was she I was seeing. Even now, my memory is of Virginia throwing her arms around my legs, exclaiming, “No, sir! Please don’t turn Virginia out! Virginia wants sir to treat her like a prick-teasing, fuck-hungry, cum-freak!”
Virginia wouldn’t say that in a million years.
But it’s still her in my mind, Virginia, on her feet, grabbing her nylons, shredding them so that they laddered badly down her legs and left a gaping hole in her crotch. “If sir won’t take advantage of Virginia, maybe she’ll run out into the street and scream about him trying to force himself on her.” I remember feeling dread in the pit of my stomach. This definitely sounded like Virginia. I wouldn’t put it past her to do the screaming in the street thing regardless of whether I took advantage of her or not.
Hanged, sheep, lamb…
The next thing I remember is being in the kitchen with Virginia bent over the table as I placed my cock against her oily rosebud and pushed, hard. I remember a high-pitched squeal and my cock buried deep in her rectum. What was it I’d said? “No little prick-tease ever deserved a bum fuck more than you.” Perhaps the words were all in my mind. I remember her whining as I pulled my cock out and pushed it back in, over and over. I remember the sense of perverse satisfaction it gave me.
The most delicious description of anal sex, ever.
In, out; in out. Over and over. Ramming my cock into the depths of her anal passage, breathing heavily. Did I pull her hair? I don’t remember. All I remember is a compulsion to penetrate her tight hole over and over like some ghastly mental affliction. At some point I tired of the game, resorting to hard pounding. I remember muffled sounds at the back of the woman’s throat spurring me on. Yes, I definitely had a fist full of hair, yanking her head back as I tried desperately to thrust my cock into her intestines. I remember the table was moving, juddering a little further across the floor every time our flesh collided.
I remember her fingers gripping the edges of the table so hard I thought she might pull the top off the legs. The pressure from her anus felt like an instruction not to spare her in the least. I remember a painful tightening of my balls and the last violent thrust. “Take it! Take my spunk deep in your arse, you fucking tease!”
The next thing I remember is standing at the top of the stairs, alone again.
What have I done?
I saw the brunette from the bedroom window, making her way down the street, naked legs below her coat. At least she wasn’t screaming blue murder. Downstairs, I found her ripped tights in the bin, along with an apple with teeth marks. There were broken shards of a bottle of extra virgin olive oil on the floor along with what had remained in the bottle. In another setting health and safety would have a field day. I cleaned the mess up, my incomplete recollection of what had transpired feeding my anxiety.
All weekend I expected some kind of fallout from events, but my punishment was the constant nagging agony of expecting to be punished for a transgression I wasn’t even sure had taken place. But then the new working week gave me other things to think of, to the point where I was actually surprised when I received the familiar text message on the Thursday.
“Drinks?”
Leave it. Leave her. Leave her infernal game.
“OK.”
It was immediately clear to me that Virginia knew exactly what had transpired between Subservia and myself. I could see it in her sardonic, sadistic smile. I could have asked what Subservia had told her, as a way of filling in the blanks, but…
You know she won’t tell you.
What she told me was, “I’m bored.”
“Bored?”
“I need a new challenge.”
Don’t ask.
“Such as?”
Her lips curled. “Don’t worry. I won’t be bored for long.”
“What makes you think I’m worried?”
Virginia took a sip of her drink, regarding me all the while as if new perversions were combining in her head. “Experiments are easy to come by.”
More mad scientist than witch…
“Is that what this is?”
There was a flash of amusement in Virginia’s eyes. “What would you call it?”
Maddening. Infuriating. Enlivening.
“Interesting. In the Chinese sense.”
I was gratified to see that she appreciated the response, though she was never going to admit as much. “You haven’t enquired about Subservia.”
Mention of the women brought unwanted flashes of memory back. “I wasn’t aware that you cared so much for normal social etiquette.”
“I can be very considerate, you know.”
Any psycho can play the game when it suits them…
“All right, I’ll play. How is Subservia?”
“Uncommonly elated this past week.”
Don’t ask.
“Any particular reason?”
“We could always find out.”
As Virginia leaned over to retrieve her phone from her bag, snippets from last Friday flashed in front of me, of a woman bent over the kitchen table. Dancing before my eyes I saw the false memory of Virginia’s face contorted from hard thrusts to the rectum. Blinking, I forced myself to focus on the here and now, her unnerving composure. “Let’s not.”
The woman’s lips curled themselves into one of her trademark twisted smiles as she placed the phone on the table. “Maybe you liked it too much.”
“Am I the only one?”
“For whom?”
You know what I mean.
I took my time sipping my drink, fumbling for firmer ground. “You haven’t written anything in a while.”
“As I said, I need a new challenge.”
“How about stepping outside of your comfort zone?”
For some reason, this seemed to amuse Virginia. She took a sip of her drink, then said, “In your dreams.”
Dreams, with eyes closed and eyes wide open. She really can see right through me.
“I sleep like a baby,” I lied.
“Really?” Virginia leaned across the table, bringing her face to within inches of mine, holding my gaze. “Because you have the look about you of a man who’s just fucked me up the arse.”
She leaned back, sipping her drink, looking inordinately pleased with herself as I tried hard to control my facial muscles. “How would you know?”
“I know a lot of things.” She had a gleam in her eye now. “For instance, I know that you need a woman.”
Once, maybe. Between it being too soon and getting used to life on my own.
“What makes you think that?”
“Experience.”
Why did you even bother asking?
“I need a woman about as much as you need a cock up your arse.”
It was pointless trying to unsettle Virginia. I had no idea why I’d tried. She just sat there, amusement lighting up her eyes. “Which I’m sure you think I do need.”
“Not need, deserve,” I corrected, determined not to let her score easy points.
Virginia’s phone pinged. She picked it up and scanned it before tapping in a reply. Then she picked up her bag. “Shall we?”
“Another date?” I asked, trying not to sound as jilted as I felt.
“A new experiment,” Virginia corrected.
So are we done?
We parted with no agreement on meeting up again, but no indication from Virginia that we were done for good. That suited my own inclinations perfectly since I could still feel her lure even as I understood that it was all for the good if I managed to escape her clutches. The alcohol had done little more than massage a slight edge, but I still decided to walk it off.
It was dark by the time I reached home, and I didn’t see the silhouette sitting on the doorstep until I’d closed the gate behind me. Muscles tightened as I prepared for a confrontation. Then I heard the voice. “Good evening, sir. I trust you had a nice time.”
Clearly, Virginia wasn’t done with me yet. I didn’t know if I resented it, or was relieved that Subservia didn’t appear to mind the events a week ago that I couldn’t fully remember. “Hello,” I said, keeping my voice down in case it drifted. “What are you doing here?”
“Did Mistress Virginia not tell you, sir?”
Tell me what? I knew she had something up her sleeve.
The brunette got to her feet, undoing the top button of her coat. I was struck by an uncanny feeling that I might be heading for some kind of exhibition in full view of the neighbours opposite and unlocked the door swiftly. Only then did I notice that Subservia had been sitting on a suitcase, one which she now carried across the threshold. “Mistress Virginia has tired of me, sir. She kicked me out, and I didn’t know where else to go.”
An experiment? But at least it doesn’t involve electrodes.
“Do you really expect me to believe that?”
“Please, sir. Take pity on Subservia, sir.”
I did pity her in a way, but not in the way she meant. She turned away from me as she continued unbuttoning her coat before shrugging it off her shoulders to deposit it on the coat stand. Underneath there was nothing, except black hold-ups and the trainers on her feet. I swallowed, staring at buttocks I had pulled apart with merciless determination, desperate for them to be Virginia’s.
Then the brunette was facing me, her front a collection of inky messages. “WILLING SLUT GIVEN AWAY FOR FREE.” “HOLES IN NEED OF REGULAR ATTENTION.” “USELESS AT HOUSEWORK, BUT HAS HER USES.”
She blinked at me. “Did Mistress Virginia really not tell you?”
“No.”
But she had, only not in so many words. I recalled the sound of an incoming text message as I was walking. I’d ignored it, thinking it could wait. Now I took out my phone and checked. There it was. “You really do need a woman. Take good care of her.”
No. This isn’t for real. Not even Virginia would do something this twisted.
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” I asked.
That proved to be Subservia’s cue to throw herself at my feet and her arms round my ankles. “Please, sir! Subservia really does have nowhere else to go! Please let Subservia stay! Subservia will obey your every command, sir! She is bad at housework, but will accept any punishment willingly.”
“Stand up! Sit down!” I said, pointing to a small stool next to the hall mirror. Subservia obeyed instantly, sitting bolt upright with those obscene messages across her torso while I called up Virginia’s number and dialled. I was sent through to voicemail.
What’s the point? You know she’s not going to answer.
I still didn’t believe any of this. Virginia had gotten her teeth into me and was treating me like a guinea pig. And yet, what if she really had turfed Subservia out? I couldn’t just send the woman out into the night with nothing but a solitary suitcase.
As I once again turned my eyes on the woman she fidgeted a little, fingers scraping her lap. “Suberservia will do anything sir wants her to,” she said softly.
My eyes slid to the right, to the mirror, allowing me to stare myself in the face.
Am I really that kind of man?
I certainly wasn’t the kind of man to take a chance on it all being some kind of hoax. Everything I knew about Virginia, which when all was said and done was next to nothing, suggested she was playing with both myself and Subservia, but that it might equally be the case that she was being completely serious. There was time enough tomorrow to find out exactly what was going on.
“All right, you can stay. For now.”
Subservia’s eyes lit up. “Thank you, sir! Subservia knew you would take pity on her. Subservia is so very grateful to you, sir.”
Was she? It was impossible to know if her clichés were sincerely meant or not. The one thing experience made me quite certain of was that she wasn’t likely to put up any form of resistance to anything very much. “You can take your case upstairs. First door on the left.” The bedroom.
“Thank you, sir. As a sign of gratitude, should Subservia assume the position, sir?”
In spite of everything, the suggestion took me by surprise. I found myself irked by the look of stunned stupidity that reflected back from the mirror.
It may be a game, but it’s not as if there’s nothing in it for you. Why should you not be that kind of man?
“Yes,” I said, possibilities forming in my mind. “Subservia should assume the position and wait until I see fit to attend to her.”
