Mind you, if I was serious about needing fresh air, I was going to have to stay away from Peregrine. He’s a chain-smoker. He’d promised he’d only light up in the garden, though, so I wasn’t too worried.
Got there, Saturday afternoon, glorious day it was, only
to find he’d invited other company. It didn’t put me out, really, but I could have done with a bit of warning. There they all were on the lawn out the front, drinking already: they’d been to the pub for lunch and were carrying on. Peregrine always lived that kind of lifestyle. He’s a theatre critic, I think you’d all have heard of him, so it’s Press Nights, First Nights, Last Nights, champagne nights all the way. Knows tons of famous actors, moves in bohemian circles. Not like me. I know there’s a fair amount of drug abuse and high living in banking, but I’ve always steered clear. Seen too many good people get lost in a blizzard of coke. My half of the family are down-to-earth Yorkshire people and I’ve inherited their thrift and their sound good sense. Peregrine’s side, not so much.
But I ought to get back to what was going on that Saturday afternoon in a sleepy Dorset village. Peregrine had invited a theatre director and his boyfriend, a journalist from his paper and a strange woman with a massive peroxide hair-do. He introduced her as a London dominatrix, and I must admit, I was impressed. She looked every inch the part, even if she was wearing a linen trouser suit and not a PVC all-in-one. It wasn’t just her appearance that interested me either. In my lonely months since the divorce, I’d spent a fair bit of free time looking at BDSM porn on the web. I had a feeling I might have seen her in something. I didn’t mention it though.
I grabbed myself a drink, and sat down with them, and joined in the chat. It all seemed like an ordinary sort of afternoon summer party at first but, after a while, I started to notice things, little things that were just slightly off-key.
The theatre director snogged his boyfriend at one point, and when he did, he held his neck really tightly, so tightly
I felt a bit uncomfortable for him. But he didn’t complain. The journalist, when he spoke to the domme – her name was Sofia, I think you know her, Al – had this weird manner about him, overly deferential, and he was all sweaty and bug-eyed, as if he was getting off on it. Especially when she was downright rude to him.
At one point, she put down her drink and told him to go inside and wait for her. He trotted off like a schoolboy who’s just been given five quid for sweets.
Peregrine was presiding over all this like a lord. Once the domme had gone inside, and the theatre director and boyfriend were rolling under the hedge, I asked him who the hell these people were.
‘I’ve been thinking for a while, Richard, that you need to make some new friends,’ he said, sparking one up again, off the end of the last one. ‘I thought you’d like to join the party.’
‘What kind of a party is this, though? I’m getting a kind of vibe off it but I’m not sure if I’m reading the situation right.’
‘Do you remember the night I came to your place for dinner?’
I did. It had been a good night, far too much had been drunk and we’d both woken up on the living room sofas.
‘I had a bit of snoop while you were making that phone call to your colleague in Brussels. I found your secret stash of magazines.’
‘For fuck’s sake, Perry!’
‘Oh, hush, and don’t call me that, you know it makes me sound like a third-division basketball player. You can call me anything you like, up to and including ‘you bastard’, but please don’t call me Perry.’
‘Sorry, I’m sure.’
‘Anyway, what particularly interested me about your
magazines was how very similar they are to
my
magazines. If you catch my drift.’
I caught his drift. You’ll know the magazines, I’m sure.
Corrective Measures
,
Cheeks
,
The St Trinian
.
‘As it happens,’ he said, ‘I’ve written a few stories for them. Readers’ confessions kind of thing. All made up, of course, and it barely pays, but I enjoy my work. Maybe you’ve read them?’
‘I tend to mostly get them for the pictures.’
He looked a little bit disappointed, then he perked up a bit.
‘You need the pictures because there’s a void in your life,’ he said. ‘A void in the form of a shapely female posterior.’
‘About sums it up,’ I said.
‘So you and Amanda?’
‘No. I never broached the subject. Meant to, many times, but when it came down to it, ah, you know. I was tired or she was tired or … She wouldn’t have been into it anyway.’
I got distracted then by a noise coming from one of the upstairs rooms of the house. All the windows were open because of the heat. The noise was a smack, smack, smack in strict rhythm. The fourth or fifth time there was a little cry as well, a man’s voice.
‘Sofia’s good at her job,’ said Peregrine. ‘She ought to get Julian to write her a review for the paper. But somehow I doubt he will. Anyway, have you finished with that drink? There’s somebody I’d like to introduce to you.’
Well, I was feeling a little as if I’d gone over the rainbow, to be honest. Here I was, expecting a relaxing country retreat, and I seemed to have landed smack bang in the middle of a kinky sex party. But I was curious, and I wanted to see more, so I followed Peregrine into the house. I’m pretty sure the
director – I wish I could tell you his name but I’m sworn to secrecy – was getting sucked off by his boyfriend by then, right under the hawthorn. I didn’t think it’d be good manners to look, though, so I didn’t.
Peregrine took me into the main downstairs room; a living room, or drawing room, if you want to call it that. Big, though, with bay windows, lots of sofas and antiques and all the Peregrine stuff. Not to my taste, really, I’m more of a minimalist, but if you like that type of thing … Anyway. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to the furniture, I’ll admit, because something else had caught my eye straight away.
In the corner, there was a woman, a young woman, with her back to us.
It was pretty easy to see that she had a great figure, curving in and out in all the right places – even with clothes on, that much would have been obvious. But she was only wearing a corset thing – basque, is it? – with stockings and suspenders. No knickers. She had her back to us so I got a bird’s eye view of her luscious bum. A gorgeous one it was, really full and round. She had her hair up in a clip on top of her head, but if it’d been down it would probably have reached down that low. The stockings were fishnets and she was wearing stiletto heels, too. She had her hands on her head.
I thought it was a bit strange that she didn’t turn around or do anything when she heard us come into the room. She must have been terribly embarrassed to be bare-bottomed like that in front of two men, one a complete stranger.
Peregrine was still rambling on about the house, and the village, and what the neighbours were like. He didn’t even mention her until he’d finished this anecdote about the retired army major down the road, and how he was trying to take over the parish council.
There was a bit of a natural break then, and all I could think of to do was clear my throat and look pointedly over at the, well, elephant in the corner sounds a bit rude. Maybe elegant in the corner? Heh. No. Sorry. But you know what I mean. She was right there, drawing every little bit of my available attention, but nobody had mentioned her.
‘You’ll be wondering, Richard,’ he said, in that fantastic old-school accent of his, ‘from which auction house I acquired our delightful new addition to the furniture?’
All I could do was nod. That arse. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.
‘If she turned around, you’d recognise her,’ he said.
She moved then, a little tremor of the shoulders and I heard her draw in a breath, but she didn’t say a word, or turn around.
‘That’s got the wind up her. She’s terrified she’ll end up in the papers. But you’re a discreet man, aren’t you, Richard? I’ve already told her you’re a cousin of mine. And you’re far too rich to bother with blackmail or bribery. Honestly, anyone would think I’d yanked you off the street. If I were you, I’d take offence.’
‘Oh, no, it’s fine,’ I said. I was far too intrigued to play along with Peregrine’s little game. I wanted to know who she was.
‘I won’t divulge her identity just yet,’ said Peregrine. I could have slapped him, though it wouldn’t have given me the pleasure getting my hands on that backside in the corner could have. ‘But suffice to say that she is one of our esteemed friend Sofia’s submissives, brought down here for the weekend with a very specific purpose in mind.’
‘Sofia’s submissives?’
‘Yes, she and Sofia have a kind of relationship, I suppose.
Sofia has clients and she has submissives. Her submissives are her lovers. She has four just now, I gather.’
‘Are they all women?’
‘No. One of them is Raf, whom you met earlier with our friend the director. She’s bisexual. Bi-sadistic. She doesn’t care if the bottoms she whips are hairy or smooth. In fact, I introduced our little friend here to Sofia at a backstage party. They are both indebted to me.’
‘You’re quite the fixer on the S&M scene.’
He didn’t disagree with me.
‘So, er …’
I looked over at the girl, as pointedly as I could.
‘Ah, yes, as I was saying. This little piece teamed up with Sofia and they’ve been happily in lust for a few months now. Sofia’s a marvellous trainer – she’s taught our friend well – but now she feels she’s ready to move to another level of submission.’
‘Another level?’
I felt a bit stupid, just echoing Peregrine, but I hadn’t the slightest idea what he was on about.
‘Sofia is a generous woman. She has a lot of toys, but she’s always happy to share them with her friends. Raf and this naughty little miss are to be this weekend’s common playthings. Raf’s done it before, but this one hasn’t. It’s her first time. A very special day for her. The day she learns what it truly means to belong to Sofia.’
All of this was accompanied by smacks and moans from upstairs, which added to the strange ambience of the place. It was as if power play and erotic discipline were in the air. I was well and truly hooked.
‘What does it mean? What sort of sharing?’
‘Anything and everything. Her arse is ours. And so is the rest of her. But not until Sofia gives us the nod – terrible
manners to just set to with somebody else’s sub unless they’ve allowed it.’
‘I see,’ I said. I won’t deny, I was pretty excited by now. It was looking as if I might get to join in this party. That perfect peach of a bottom was going to feel the weight of my hand, and I was going to make sure I matched up to the more experienced players.
The moaning and smacking stopped, and stiletto heels clicked down the stairs towards us. I saw the girl in the corner straighten and compose herself into optimum position.
‘Hello, boys,’ said Sofia, entering purposefully. ‘Sorry you had to hear that. Julian’s been a very silly boy and he had to be chastised. He’s in the same position up there that a certain person is modelling so nicely down here. Has she been behaving herself?’
‘She’s been exceptionally good,’ said Peregrine, and I nodded along.
‘Well, that makes a change. I hope she’s resolved to turn over a new leaf and work on her unquestioning obedience. She still finds that difficult, you know, Peregrine, even after all these months of training.’
I wondered how she felt, standing there, listening to all of this, being spoken about as if she wasn’t in the room.
‘Nobody could train her better, darling,’ said Peregrine. ‘You know you’re the crème de la crème. The cream of the crop, one might say.’
Sofia laughed, loudly. ‘Yes, one might. Especially this one. Very well. I think she’s had long enough to reflect on her misdeeds. Richard, I understand you’re new to the delights of discipline?’
‘Well, yes, that’s right. I’ve thought about it often but I’ve never—’
‘What a treat you have in store. I think perhaps you should deliver the warm-up and Peregrine can follow up with the more advanced implements. I haven’t quite decided what we should use on her. Peregrine, do you have any thoughts?’
‘It needs to be a strong lesson, of course.’ Peregrine mused on this for a bit. ‘I’d say a touch of the strap, some strokes with a wooden paddle, and all rounded off with twelve good strokes of the rattan cane. We should intersperse each session with some additional punishment, too, perhaps a little humiliation or some sexual service.’
‘Yes, I’m with you. Four hard spankings with fun for us in between. You can do the caning, then. I’ll do the others.’
‘Splendid.’
It was as if they’d decided who was going to prepare which course for a pot-luck supper, they were so clinical and decisive about it. I felt a little sorry for the girl as the punishment sounded very harsh, the sort I liked to read about but doubted any girl could really take. But perhaps they could. And I was going to warm her up!
I was nervous, perhaps more nervous than she was, especially when Sofia sat herself down on the sofa and said, ‘She’s all yours, Richard.’
What was I going to do with her? Getting her over my knee was the obvious choice, so I sat down on a straight-backed chair, eighteenth century or whatever, I expect, and tried to get comfortable. I was already hard, though, which I was embarrassed about – you are, aren’t you, your first time? I’m well over it now, of course.
‘All right,’ I said. ‘You’ve done your corner time and now you need to be punished. Come here.’
She turned round and I had to bite my lip so as not to stare too hard. If I tell you who she was, do you swear you
won’t tell? Allyson already knows, of course. Yes? OK. It was Celia Britt. Yes,
the
Celia Britt. God, yes, she was fantastic in that last
Cat Girl
, I know, I saw it three times. So, there I was, face to face with one of the hottest properties in film, about to give her a good spanking. Does life get much better than that? Let me know if it does.
You’ll have seen her in her underwear, of course, in that movie, but she’s even rounder and curvier and bouncier in the flesh. Gorgeous skin, not a blemish on her. Not yet, anyway. And she had her eyes down, all coy and meek, and her hands clasped over her you-know-what. All right, I know. We’re all grown-ups here, Allyson’s right. She had her hands clasped over her pussy. That’s the bit I hadn’t seen before, so I asked her to put her hands by her sides. She was shaved almost bare except – I don’t know how she did it, must have used a stencil or something – she had the word ‘TOY’ in capitals in pubic hair on there. Yeah, I thought, that must have taken ages to do.