His Mistress’s Voice (16 page)

As she continued to stimulate him Tom began to feel like one all-over sensitive spot. He wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer.

As if reading his mind, although it was more likely she could tell from the feel of his cock inside her mouth, Harriet let him fall free. She looked critically at his cock, only inches from her face. There was a drop of fluid on the end of it. ‘Just in time,’ she remarked. ‘You were about to become a liar.’

Tom could feel her saliva cooling on his cock, which was itself far from cool. So was he. ‘I was never a fanatic about telling the truth,’ he managed to say when he had recovered somewhat. He resisted the almost overpowering urge to thrust himself back into her mouth. Among other things, there were the teeth to consider.

‘Never mind,’ Harriet told him. ‘You’ve passed another test.’

Tom replied, ‘I don’t mind passing tests, but what is the prize for passing them all? And how many do I have to pass?’

Harriet looked annoyed, as if he had asked a really stupid question. Tom gathered that she didn’t like him to ask too many questions. Nevertheless, she answered.

‘I’ll decide when you have passed all the tests. The prize will be your confirmation as my assistant. There are all sorts of fringe benefits to being left in charge of helpless and nubile females. Do I need to draw a diagram?’

Tom said, ‘I had one particular nubile female in mind. She’s not a million miles from here, either.’

‘Why, ah do declayeh,’ Harriet said in a fair imitation of a Scarlett O’Hara, ‘do y’ all mean ta say that y’ all’s lustin’ aftah mah own fayeh body? What’s a poor girl to do? Here ah thought ah was entertainin’ a gentleman in my pahlah and now he’s makin’ indecent proposals to me. Ah’ve nevah been so shocked in mah whole entiyeh life.’ Reverting to her own accent, Harriet continued, ‘Still, I imagine we can reach an arrangement whereby you satisfy your base lust with me.’ She looked pleased at the compliment he had paid her. ‘If you wish, you can consider me the ultimate prize. I wouldn’t mind that so very much. After all, Beth thought you were worth cultivating.’

Tom must have looked disappointed, for she went on, ‘Now don’t look so downcast. I’ve made an arrangement for this weekend I’m sure you’ll like. But,’ seeing he was about to ask, ‘don’t ask me anything. I don’t want to spoil the surprise.’

She changed the subject abruptly. ‘If you’re not hungry, I’d like you to clear up in here and do the washing-up. I generally give the leftovers to the birds. Put them on the kitchen windowsill if you don’t mind. Come back here when you’re done.’

As he washed the dishes and tidied the kitchen, Tom wondered what the surprise could be. Given what he knew about Harriet, he guessed it would be something extraordinary. Nothing mundane would fit the atmosphere of the house. He opened the window and put the remains of the sandwiches out for the birds. It seemed incongruous that someone as seemingly ruthless as Harriet should worry about them. He never thought about them when disposing of his own rubbish. He hung up the tea cloth and drained the sink. Then he went through to rejoin Harriet.

She looked up with a smile as he entered. ‘Come over here, Tom.’ The handcuffs lay on the arm of her chair. Her black high-heeled shoes lay beside them. Tom noticed how clearly her red-painted toenails showed up through her tights. He had heard that when female folksingers removed their shoes on stage, they were telling the audience that they wanted a more intimate relationship with them. He wondered if the same were true of temptresses. And did the red toenails mean that they were more eager? When he stood before her, she motioned for him to turn around with his back to her. He heard the clink of chain as she picked up the handcuffs and anticipated her next order by bringing his hands around behind his back. Harriet gave a small ‘Umm’ of approval. His groin grew tight as he heard her open the handcuffs with a series of loud clicks.

She locked the cuffs on his wrists, leaving his hands back to back behind him. She remarked, ‘Let this be a lesson to you: always put the hands back to back behind your subject when you plan to leave someone for some time in restraint. It’s more comfortable for her that way. But you need to develop some judgement of your own, so remember the other things I’m doing as well.’ She tightened the cuffs until they fit snugly, and then double-locked them. ‘That will prevent your subject from inadvertently tightening the cuffs if she rolls over onto them. Now sit between my legs and you can rest your back against the chair.’

Tom sat awkwardly. The process involved getting down onto his knees one at a time and then falling the rest of the distance to the floor. Once seated he scooted back into the prescribed position by lifting himself on knuckles and heels. When he was seated, Harriet closed her legs around his shoulders. Tom felt an electric shock pass through him as her smooth, nylon-sheathed thighs touched his bare skin. But there was more. Harriet lifted her feet one by one and placed them in his lap. With her toes and the arches of her feet she idly began to tease his cock and balls. The experience was something completely new to him. But he liked the feel of her feet and the smooth nylon on his stiffening cock.

‘And they both settled in for a long evening in front of the TV,’ she murmured. ‘Comfy?’

That wasn’t exactly the word he would have used, but he couldn’t think of a better one at the moment. Tom merely nodded.

The early evening news was just beginning on ITV. Together they watched the daily catalogue of civil war and starvation that made up the staple diet of the television news programmes. Tom wondered idly what reaction they would get if the newsreaders could look into this particular living room from the vantage point of the TV set. The sight of a nude man wearing handcuffs and having his balls caressed by the feet of a woman in a tight leather corselet and black tights would probably put them right off their autocues. He wondered how many of them would be going home to a similar experience. Not many, he guessed.

Harriet continued to fondle him – manipulate would not be the right word, he thought. Besides being too abstract and clinical, it didn’t apply to sexual congress conducted by foot! Feet, he corrected himself. He knew from her previous remarks that she intended to leave him just the wrong side of completion. Harriet was engaged in a tricky exercise in judgement: just when should she stop and leave him hanging? He didn’t think her feet were as sensitive as her hands, so how could she tell what state he was in? Briefly he considered relaxing his self-control, already being seriously strained, and shooting his load all over those maddening feet. But he remembered her remark about not wanting to change her clothes once she was comfortable. He decided to hold on a bit longer. The earlier loss of control still bothered him a bit, mainly because Harriet had wanted him to hang on. Not this time, he vowed silently with gritted teeth. Show her what you’re made of.

As the main news ended and the local programmes began, Harriet switched tactics. She stood up and motioned for him to do the same. With some difficulty he managed to get to his feet. Standing up without the use of his hands was not easy. Harriet moved over to the settee, pulling the top of her corselet down to free her breasts. Tom admired them, as he was obviously meant to do. They were full and round and only slightly pendulous. He wondered if she did special exercises to keep them taut. Later, after he became more familiar with her ways, he joked, though never to her, that she had ordered them to remain firm and they didn’t dare disobey!

Harriet motioned for him to sit. He did so, wondering what she had in mind now. He didn’t have to wait too long. She straddled him, her leg outside his own. She reached between them and pulled his erect cock up until it was pointing at his navel, then pressed her lower body (what his grandmother would have called, vaguely and reluctantly, her nether regions) against him, so that his cock was trapped between their bodies and lay against the smooth leather that covered her cunt and belly. Things were looking up, he told himself. When he himself looked up, she smiled into his eyes. A mischievous smile, he thought, as if she were having some private joke, probably at his expense. When he looked down again, he was confronted by her magnificent tits, just inches from his face.

Still smiling, Harriet put her hands behind his head and toyed with the hair at the nape of Tom’s neck. He shifted slightly to accommodate her weight more comfortably, feeling his cock rubbing on the smooth garment she wore. That sensation required still more self-control. Tom knew he was on the verge of losing it again. He had to think of putting out the rubbish, think of queuing for fish and chips on a rainy night; lie back and think of England; think of anything but what was staring him in the face at close range.

Harriet gently pulled his head forward, decreasing the range even further. Her intentions were definitely not motherly. Tom did what any gentleman would do when confronted by a pair of tits like those. Since he couldn’t use his hands, he opened his mouth and kissed the nearest nipple, running his tongue over the crinkly areola and giving it the gentlest of nips with his teeth. Harriet emitted a sigh of satisfaction. The hands pressing his head to her signalled that he was to continue. Tom pulled back slightly to get another view of her, then nuzzled her breasts and began mapping out the territory with a long series of kisses and nips that caused Harriet to sigh some more and close her eyes. She shifted her weight slightly now and again to bring different parts of herself into range of his mouth. This caused some more agreeable shiftings further south which posed another threat to his resolve not to come.

The fingers rubbing his neck didn’t help either. Tom was forced to acknowledge to himself how erotic those fingers could be, and how many women simply didn’t know what pleasure they could give. A cynical part of him added that they probably didn’t care much in any case. But that way lay danger too: Harriet was not any woman, and she knew quite well what she was doing. She put her knowledge to use against his crumbling defences. Tom had images of sand castles before a rising tide.

Harriet lay her head alongside his, holding him tightly now. Her breath was warm in his ear, and he could hear her sighs and soft moans of satisfaction clearly. He could tell from their rhythm and frequency that she was close to an orgasm of her own. Her scent Was strong in his nostrils. Tom wished that his hands Were free so that he could use them to help her over the top. Since they weren’t, he did the next best thing: he drew back slightly so that he could get her left nipple between his teeth, worrying at it gently.

That was too much for Harriet’s self-control, if indeed she was using any. In his ear he heard the rasping of her breath as she drew in great gulps of air. ‘Ah, aah, ah, aha, ah, ahhhh, ahh, ooooooooohhh!’ She was now writhing against him, rubbing herself and heaving as she came. Tom continued to kiss her breasts as she reached yet another peak. He lost count of her orgasms, but later he told himself he had done a good job for her.

At the time he was busy with other things. Harriet’s spasms had been too much for him, and he felt himself explode against the leather of her corselet, the sperm shooting out and dripping off the smooth material onto her tights and his own bare thighs. His body jerked in release against hers.

Harriet held onto him tightly while their breathing slowed and the sweat cooled on their bodies. Tom was glad she had enjoyed the encounter. He was also pleased that she was not prone to drawing herself away quickly after they had come. Many women acted as if, the foul deed done, they couldn’t get away fast enough, and many professed to be offended by the mess, especially if the man spent himself all over them. Harriet didn’t seem to mind that, but as his own passions cooled, he remembered uneasily her remark about making a mess on her clothes. He would plead the stress of the moment if she said anything.

Eventually she disengaged herself and sat back. ‘Well. That was fun,’ she said.

Tom thought her choice of words left something to be desired. Fun was not strong enough, though he didn’t offer any correction. Maybe it was her way of reasserting her own mastery by playing down what had obviously been a very enjoyable experience. For both of them.

Harriet looked down at the front of her corselet. There was a large dollop of sticky semen in the region of her abdomen, and dark stains on her tights where it had soaked in. Tom, being the underdog, had received his own shower, most of it in his crotch. Mockingly, she said, ‘Well, I see you couldn’t contain yourself after all. But at least this time you held out longer against stronger provocation. I suppose that’s progress. You’re learning. Now it’s time for you to clean up after yourself. Still, it was nice.’

Tom appreciated the afterthought. He waited for the next move. Not that he had a choice. But he didn’t have to wait long. Harriet pulled up the top of her corselet, covering her breasts once more. A pity, he thought. Already she looked more severe, less accessible. Once more she resumed her sergeant-major’s demeanour.

Retrieving the key from the armchair where she had sat earlier, Harriet removed the handcuffs and laid them aside. ‘Go get a cloth and help me clean up here,’ she directed. She was tugging at the shoulder straps of her corselet, settling her tits more comfortably in the cups as Tom went to do her bidding.

In the kitchen he got a tea towel and a saucepan of warm water. With these he went back into the living room. Harriet was still standing by the settee. Tom went to her and began wiping down the front of her corselet. When he had done that he began sponging off her thighs, leaving dark wet patches on the nylon. He rather liked the feel of her legs as he worked away. Next he cleaned up the cushion of the settee and last of all himself. He was conscious of Harriet’s gaze on him as he rubbed his crotch and cleaned his cock. In response he began to develop another erection.

‘Not now, please,’ Harriet said. ‘Once is enough. Besides, I’m getting a headache. And it’s almost bedtime.’ She gave a mocking smile. ‘Isn’t that what they always say?’ She turned off the TV with the remote control and led the way to the door at the back of the hall.