Strictly Susan –
The Ninth Collection
Susan Strict
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2008 Susan Strict
Strict Publishing International
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Cover picture adapted from artwork by Rodzo
My Sister’s Computer
"My sister is having awful trouble with her computer," Mary said. "I don't know what's the matter with it."
"I'll take a look, if you like," Mike offered. "It's no problem."
"She's on the phone now. She says she doesn't think she can afford to pay for your time."
"I won't charge her," Mike promised, "Not just to take a look. At least I can let her know what's wrong and how much it will take to fix."
"She says thanks very much," Mary told him, "And she says she'll give you a big hug!"
"I'll go over there right now!" he laughed.
"Make it this afternoon," Mary suggested. "She won't be so busy then, and there will be no need to come back to the office afterwards."
*
It was right at the end of the afternoon when her sister telephoned, just as Mary was about to pack up for the day and go home.
"You were right," Gemma said. "I've got him. Are you coming over?"
"What do you mean?" asked Mary.
"I mean you were absolutely right," Gemma told her. "You said that if I gave him a big hug he wouldn't be able to behave himself. His hands were everywhere. I told him he was very naughty and he ought to be punished. You'll never guess what he said."
"What did he say?" asked Mary, fascinated.
"He said 'yes please'! Imagine that! He's terrible."
"He's very nice really," said Mary. "You'd like him if you got to know him."
"I played along with it," said Gemma. "He complained that I was creasing his jacket and shirt, so I told him to take them off. He didn't even complain when I tied his wrists to the top corners of the bed."
"You did what?" asked Mary, horrified.
"He wasn't so happy when I took off his trousers and underpants," Gemma went on, "But with his hands tied there wasn't a lot he could do to stop me. I tied his ankles too, wide apart to the other corners. He looks so silly, naked and stuck like that, and he's making an awful fuss about it. I could hardly stop laughing, but he does seem quite excited about it all. You should see him!"
"Gemma, you can't do things like that!" Mary told her.
"I've done it," said Gemma smugly. "I haven't done anything else to him yet. I haven't decided what to do. I thought you might have some ideas, although I can think of a few of my own."
"You are joking, aren't you?" said Mary suddenly. "You haven't really got Mike tied naked to your bed?"
"I have," said Gemma. "Come and see. I'm working out what would be the best punishment for him. He'll be so embarrassed if you turn up. That will be a good start. I'm going to have a look in the shed and see if I have some garden canes. A nice long, thin, whippy one would be perfect."
"Gemma! You can't."
"I can," Gemma insisted. "I want to see his face when he sees you. I know you, Mary. You won't be able to keep your hands off him."
"I'm certainly not touching him while you're there," said Mary, shocked at her sister.
"So you are coming over?" said Gemma. "I thought you would. You really can't resist it, can you? Don't worry, I'll go out if you want me to. You can have him all to yourself, but you had better be quick. I'm not too sure he'll be much use to you for a while when I've finished with him. I've just had an idea. Remember that TENS unit I bought when I had a bad shoulder? You know, the electrical pulse unit for stimulating the nerves? I'm going to attach that to his sticky-up bits and turn it up full power. That should make him think twice about where he puts his hands in future!"
There was a long silence.
"Mary? Are you still there?"
"Of course I'm still here," said Mary in a strange voice.
"Are you coming?"
"I'm coming," Mary confirmed. "And you can go out, like you said, as soon as I get there."
"No problem," agreed Gemma. "Hurry up."
"I will," said Mary. "And, Gemma..."
"Yes?"
"Don't turn up the TENS unit too high, please. Just enough to scare him."
"Really? I was only joking," said Gemma.
"Oh no," said Mary, her voice now completely different. "It's a wonderful idea. Get it going. I'll turn it right up after I've... I mean, later. See if you can find that cane too. I think it would be perfect."
"You're worse than me," Gemma told her.
"Worse? Oh no. I'm better. Much better. I'm on my way..."
* * *
Letter from Susan to Jennifer
Jennifer,
There are lots of possibilities, but it really depends on what gives YOU pleasure.
I get very turned-on by having a man under my control. What I find most exciting is taking something that he enjoys in moderation and then taking it much further that he can possibly find enjoyable.
As you say, tying him up is essential so that he really has no choice but to submit to whatever you do - and it is also essential NOT to stop just because he wants you to stop. You stop when YOU have had enough, never before.
For example, most men who have even the smallest submissive streak love to have women sitting on their faces - and I have always found it particularly arousing to have a man tied to my bed with me straddling his face. Smothering him for up to a minute (longer could be dangerous) is always good fun, but I like to repeat that over and over again, giving him just a few seconds to breathe in between. A good smothering session should last at least an hour, and then I usually take a break (leaving him tied to the bed) and start again a little later. Do make sure he is shaved first - otherwise you will probably become bit sore. Just before I take a break, I usually hold his cock and rub it up and down a couple of times - never enough to make him cum but enough to make him wish I would continue and leave him extremely frustrated.
It is important to keep in mind that most men’s whole existence revolves around sexual thoughts and their sex organs. It is therefore appropriate to use a man’s sexuality as your point of focus for domination, whether it is purely sexual domination or general control. Punishment and reward should be your theme for any relationship, and combining the two can have him begging for more one moment and begging you to stop the next. Keep him uncertain, so that he never knows quite how far you will go with either pain OR pleasure. It therefore follows logically that his genitals are often the best point of focus for pain.
One of my favourites is, again with him tied on his back on the bed, to run my fingernail gently over and round the end of his cock. This always makes him squirm – it really is surprising just how sensitive that part of him is. I usually sit on his chest or stomach while I do it (occasionally in a “reverse facesit position” on his face, but it makes it harder to concentrate, I find, if his mouth is against me). The trick is, of course, not to just do this briefly but to go on doing it and keep repeating it. He really struggles and moans.
If your fingernails are not long enough or sharp enough, then the sharp bit on the cap of a cheap ballpoint pen (the “Bic Biro” type) is equally effective. I would suggest that it is better not to use anything likely to scratch enough to draw blood.
If you want to go a little further along similar lines, a cotton bud inserted into the end of his penis and moved up and down or twisted round and round can be a very effective way of making him squirm. Now – you must be VERY careful with this. You must make absolutely certain you are using the type where the ball of cotton cannot come loose from the end. Leaving chunks of it inside his urethra would be somewhat unfortunate, and most embarrassing to explain at the local hospital. Also, make absolutely sure everything is clean, because it is very easy to get an infection. Remember that the inside of the urethra is more delicate and sensitive than the head of the penis, and the sensations for him will be most intense. The discomfort may return every time he takes a pee for some time afterwards! I recommend keeping this sort of activity to a minimum – just to make the point that there is absolutely nothing you cannot do to him if you choose.
Another favourite (although probably not to be used during the same session as the fingernail “torture” above!) is to use some coarse, gritty sand INSIDE a condom. Make sure you use a nice strong condom that is not going to break, and make sure there is no sand on the outside - you certainly do not want it inside you! To start with, he will probably enjoy the sensation - the extra friction is simply more arousing. After a very short time the sand will start to rub quite painfully - and that is the time to really get moving up and down on him.
Depending on how quickly he cums, you may find that after a “session” with the sand he is VERY sore for several days. This too is great. That is the time for you to take a sudden additional interest in regular sex!!
It is worth making him cum at least a couple of times in the hours before using a sandy condom - then when you do it, his orgasm should not happen too quickly. The only problem may be keeping him hard enough for it to be effective.
Again gritty sand: get some rubber gloves - those usually sold under the brand name “Marigolds” are ideal, but not the really thick industrial ones. Coat the fingers, thumbs and palms of the gloves with glue and then cover them with the sand.
Now have a most marvellous “toy” for dealing with him. He can really get to fear those gloves. Do I need to suggest how you should use them? I guess not!
Much simpler that any of those, and very, very effective, is to flick his balls. You do not even have to do it very hard. A flick will cause intense, instant discomfort, and after a very few flicks he can be left alone (suitable restrained) and you can return to him later to do it again. And again. And again. And for as long as you want to keep him in pain and frustration. Personally, when I am in the right mood, I often keep my man tied for the whole evening and administer a series of flicks to his genitals every half an hour or so – but never at exact times and never the same number of flicks. It definitely pays to keep him wondering just when it is going to happen and how many he is going to get next time. It is even better if you can blindfold him and put some headphones on him with soothing music playing in his ears, so that he has no idea when the first flick of the next series is coming!
So... let me know if any of these thoughts are useful. If they are, I would love to hear all about how you use them. This is only a start, of course. I am sure you can think up many other ideas of your own, but I am always happy to point you in the right direction. Remember: only do what you enjoy doing and, as you said, giving him pain when he is helpless is always a great turn-on.
Have fun. And make sure he is not having too much fun. He is there for your pleasure, not his own.
Best regards,
Susan.
* * *
The Large Green Women from Space
The large green women from somewhere
far beyond the Horsehead Nebula clustered round him as their leader
ripped his clothes from him.
”Your mind is closed to us,”
they babbled, “So we will use your body.”
“What for?” he asked in fear.
“For our sexual gratification, of
course,” they replied in glee.
In a daze he could only
mutter, “How come you speak English?”
”How come you
understand Bartrovian?” they replied. So that was the end of that.
”Do you find us attractive?” asked one, gripping his
testicles with one of her three sandpaper-like hands and squeezing
painfully.
When he was able to speak again, he answered. “I
prefer women who aren’t green and who have less than five breasts.”
”What’s wrong with five breasts?” asked the leader,
exposing all of hers and pulling his head deep between two of them.
”Urgh, uff, murdle, flumph,” he started to reply, and
wondered when he would pass out from lack of air. It took a little
more than three minutes.
*
He regained consciousness some
time later to find himself flat on his back with a heavy weight on
his groin. There was an agonising pain, and he wondered if perhaps
his manhood had become trapped in a rotary sander while he was
unconscious. A shrill screaming noise filled his ears.
His
struggles to remove himself promptly from whatever was hurting him
were futile. He realised he was held immobile by tight metal bands
over his wrists, ankles, thighs, stomach, chest, neck and forehead.
At the same moment he identified the source of the pain and
the screaming. One of the alien women had attached herself to his
manhood rather in the manner of a powerful vacuum cleaner nozzle into
which someone had inadvertently thrust a small cucumber and she was,
apparently, at the height of orgasm that very moment. He was about
to object to this high-handed and unsolicited use of his private
parts, when everything went dark. Something solid and fleshy had
descended over his face, and started to exude jets of purple liquid
that filled his mouth, nose and eyes. Immediately the something
lifted.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, wiping him
with a towel, and promptly sat down hard on his nose. He felt the
bone crack.
Meanwhile the shrill screaming and movement below
had stopped. The pressure was released on his now-limp manhood, and
the pain had eased to a dull ache. As the alien on his face had
decided to start bouncing up and down, he was now able to catch brief
glimpses of what was going on.
”Me next,” said another
alien enthusiastically as the screamer climbed off.
”You’ll
have to springle the recticator,” warned the first.
”Plenty
of gramplicude,” said the second with what was probably a smile,
although as she started to climb over his groin he noticed that the
area between her legs bore an identical expression to that on her
face.
She held herself a few inches from him and pressed at
patch on the inside of her right thigh that was a darker green than
then rest of her. A bright blue liquid squirted from a hidden gland,
hitting his manhood with such force it felt as though it were cutting
deeply into it. He would have screamed if the female on his face had
not chosen that moment to plonk herself firmly on top of his mouth
and grind herself downwards on him. He realised that the blue liquid
had made him immediately fully erect, and as it dried it was sending
bursts of electricity through him.
The one on his face
recommenced her bouncing, and he saw to his dismay the now-rotating,
rough insides of the other alien protrude from between her legs and
prepare to engulf his rigid manhood. As she touched the end his pain
was intense, but it appeared that the blue liquid had been absorbed
deeply into him and was keeping him totally rigid. The pain increased
as she very slowly lowered herself to encase him completely in the
rough rotating tube. He felt it tighten and grip him even harder as
it started to withdraw back inside her, taking him with it.
At
that moment the bouncing on his face stopped. For a moment he
thought she was going to leave him completely, but to his horror he
saw the gap between her legs widen and descend to take the whole of
his head right inside her. She closed herself round him.
The
pressure increased on his face and head. In total airlessness he was
beginning to suffocate and to lose consciousness, even as he felt the
bones in his head and face start to crack...
*
The hospital machines lifted
from him, and for a moment he wondered where he was.
“All healed,” called the leader. “Next.”
He saw the women cluster round, clamouring to be the first to try the newly healed human. The queue stretched far out of the room...
* * *
The Man Auction
“Remember it’s for charity,” Mrs Twyford reminded the assembled ladies. “These kind gentlemen will give up the whole weekend to run errands, do the housework or any other little tasks you need doing around the house. So make your bids generous. I know that most of you can afford it.”
There was a ripple of good-natured laughter from around the room. They certainly could afford it. The majority of them were very wealthy, some were highly successful businesswomen and some had inherited wealth. No one without substantial available money would have even been invited to the dinner, let alone been able to afford the price of the tickets.
The dinner had, of course, been excellent. Nothing but the best would be served at such a function, although more than a few of the ladies failed to eat more than a fraction of the food on their plates. ‘I’m watching my waistline, my dear.’ An observer might have noted that whether or not the ladies were watching their waistlines, this did not seem to stop them consuming vast quantities of wine and champagne.
“First,” Mrs Twyford continued, “We have Graham.”
A tall man in his mid-forties strolled into the room and up to the top table.
“As you can see, Graham is an experienced gentleman. He is not averse to a little housework, and I have it on good authority that he can even do the ironing. He is available immediately, so as it’s Friday the lucky bidder can take him home tonight. Come on now. Who’ll open the bidding? Shall we start at one hundred pounds?”
The bidding was fast and furious, with Mrs Twyford encouraging them and emphasising Graham’s qualities. Amidst tumultuous applause he was eventually “sold” to a tough-looking businesswoman.
“My stables need cleaning and painting,” she announced to the cheering ladies. “I’m sure he’ll be perfect.”
“We know what you want him for,” called a voice from the back. “ Are you sure he’s up to it.”
The woman blushed. “Don’t be so crude,” she bellowed at the heckler. “I don’t need a man for that.”
The auction continued, but the tone had been set. Although Mrs Twyford remained relatively calm and polite, the comments from the rest of the ladies descended from mild sexual innuendo to downright bawdiness as each further man was “auctioned”.
Mike almost left before it was his turn to be auctioned. It was positively degrading to be paraded before the somewhat drunken women and to have lewd comments made about each man. He had volunteered for this only because his manager at work had put his name forward and helping to raise money for charity seemed a worthwhile way to spend a weekend. He did not at all mind doing some manual work, gardening, painting, cleaning or even general household chores. He had hoped, knowing that these were very wealthy women who would be bidding for his services, he might even accompany one of them to whatever social functions she was attending that weekend. This, however, was not the behaviour he had expected from the ladies, and now he was not at all sure he wanted to be any part of it.
“And now we have Mike,” Mrs Twyford announced.
‘Now or never,’ thought Mike. ‘I either go out there and let them make a fool of me, or I walk out right now.’
He walked towards the top table.
“And here he is, ladies. Notice how young and fit he is. He’ll be a hard worker I’m sure and if not, I’m certain some of you ladies have ways of making him work harder!”
Mike stood unhappily in front of the table, gazing at the sea of faces in front of him.
“Who’s going to start the bidding?” Mrs Twyford encouraged them. “I think we should start at two hundred and fifty pounds. Do I hear two hundred and fifty?”
Mike’s eyes glazed over as the bidding started. He hardly saw the women in front of him or heard their bids. Finally, Mrs Twyford announced, “Sold to Miss Meldrum. You can take him now.”
A chorus of whistles and cheers greeted the announcement, with cries of “Not on the table!”
Mrs Meldrum strode up to claim her purchase from a table at the far end of the hall. She was a tall woman, not fat but could fairly be described as well built, and she was considerably on the wrong side of forty. Her bearing and posture as she walked told of a self-confidence and assuredness to which many aspired but few really achieved, and which remained completely unshaken by the cheers and catcalls of the more disruly element in the hall. Mike looked at her with some apprehension, although he was somewhat relieved that he had not ended up with one of the younger and more vociferous of the women. At least, he thought, a rather older woman was likely to behave more reasonably in her demands over the next two days.
She took him by the hand and led him back to her table while the other women clapped enthusiastically. No sooner had they sat down than she announced she had had enough and wanted to leave.
“Come on,” she told him. “No time to waste. We may as well make use of you, seeing as you’ve cost me all that money.”
Obediently he followed her to her car and was startled to see a chauffeur waiting by it. Considering the amount of alcohol the ladies had consumed that evening it should not have surprised him she had decided not to drive herself.
It was not long before the car swung off the main roads, passing between two large gateposts and up a long driveway. A large house loomed stately and imposing before them, its numerous windows glowing with light like some multi-eyed monster trying to peer into the darkness. Mike shivered.
He followed her into the house after she dismissed the chauffeur and the car had disappeared back down the drive.
“What would you like me to do first?” he asked politely, determined to meet his obligations. After all, it was for charity. Despite his earlier relief that it was one of the more mature women who had “bought” him for the weekend, he found himself wishing that in fact it had been one of the younger and more attractive ladies. It was not that he had really taken their bawdy comments seriously, it was just that it would have been more pleasant to spend the whole weekend with an attractive woman rather than the somewhat severe Mrs Meldrum.
"Take your clothes off," she said without turning round.
He froze, certain for a moment that he had misheard her.
"Pardon?"
“I said ‘take your clothes off,” Mrs Meldrum confirmed calmly. “Hurry up. You wouldn’t want to keep me waiting, would you?”
“But... But...” Mike stuttered, staring at her in amazement. “You’re not serious?”
“Of course I’m serious,” she snapped. “I bought you, and it cost me a lot of money, so I’m going to make the most of it. What on earth did you think I wanted you for, polite conversation?”
“Well, no. I thought maybe jobs around the house. You know...”
“I can hire an odd-job man for that,” Mrs Meldrum told him. “I have other uses for you, and you’re most certainly not going to refuse me, not after the amount you’ve cost me. You’re mine for the weekend, young man. And you’ll do what you’re told.”
Mike was still stuttering his objections when Mrs Meldrum turned and picked up a riding crop from the hall table. She raised it threateningly.
“Get them off,” she ordered. “All of them. NOW!”
Reluctantly, Mike began to remove his clothes while Mrs Meldrum watched intently with a satisfied smile. As his trousers dropped to the floor and he stepped out of them, he hesitated, about to ask if it was really necessary to remove everything. She raised the crop once more. Mike pulled down his underpants and stood defiantly naked.
“Happy now?” he asked coldly. “Seen everything you want?”
“Don’t be impertinent,” she replied, and aimed a blow with the crop towards the top of his leg. It struck him just below his hip, making him yelp in pain and leaving a red line on his naked flesh.
He backed away from her hurriedly, but she followed him striking repeatedly with the crop. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” he begged in panic as one blow after another made stinging contact.
When finally he was cowering on his knees, completely at a loss to think of anything he could do to stop this woman hitting him, she did stop. She stood, arms folded, the crop still in one hand, looking down at him in silence.
“You can’t do this!” he said finally, staring up at the imposing figure standing over him.
“I most certainly can,” she told him. “And if you don’t do as you’re told without any more insolence, then you’re going to get a lot more of it. Stand up.”
Fearful that she would hit him again with the crop, Mike stood up. He flinched violently as she made a sudden movement towards him, but it was not the crop that touched his flesh. Her hand closed firmly around his manhood; neither aggressively nor as a lover might have taken him in her hand.
“Stop it,” said Mike weakly.
“Why?” she asked. “You obviously find me very exciting.”
Mike was about to deny that he could ever have found a woman like her exciting, and then he realised what she meant. He had no idea when his erection had appeared, but there was no doubt about it. His arousal was as rigid and intense as it had ever been.
She tightened her grip and squeezed. He groaned, although it was not a groan either of discomfort or of pleasure. The unexpected and unwanted reaction of his body to this woman was not what he intended, and yet the grip of her hand made his legs tremble and sensations flow through him that he had never before experienced.
“Upstairs,” she commanded. “Come on.”
With his head in a whirl, Mike did not object. He had little choice, because she did not release her grip. She pulled him after her.
By the time he had reached her bedroom, he recovered his composure a little even though she was still yanking and tugging at him to hurry him. She dragged him towards the bed.
“This is ridiculous,” he complained. “I’m not doing this. I’m going home.”
She let go abruptly and turned to face him.
“I’ve paid to have you for the weekend,” she pointed out. “Surely you’re not going to disappoint me? You aren’t going to tell me you’re not up to it?”
“Up to what?” he asked in confusion, startled at the suddenness with which she had released him.
Her attitude had changed. From the powerful, dominant character she had displayed just a moment ago, her expression became softer and far more appealing. She reached forward and touched him lightly on the shoulder, with a caress that seemed positively affectionate.
“Please,” she asked, her tone pleading, “I... I need it. I need sex. You can manage it, can’t you? With me?”
“Um... No. Well, I mean, it doesn’t seem right... Does it?”
“I think you want to.” Her hand caressed him down his chest, and rested lightly on his erection. She looked straight into his eyes. “You do want to. Don’t you?”
Mike was silent. The forcefulness she had exhibited downstairs and as she pulled him towards the bedroom had disappeared completely. She was now like any other middle-aged woman, not unattractive, but considerably older than he was. Her body was solid, firm and more than a little on the heavy side, with wide hips and large, prominent breasts that pressed forward under her blouse as she leaned towards him. At that moment it was clear that her sexuality was a compelling force within her, and to Mike the strength of it was quite overpowering.
“I need sex,” she said again, her eyes fixed on his, begging, while her hand gently caressed him.
“Yes,” said Mike slowly. “All right. Why not?”
There were a hundred reasons why not, and not least because of the way she had treated him downstairs just a few minutes ago. Somehow, the urge that he now felt was stronger and more compelling than any of them.
“I’ll change into something more suitable,” she told him. “Don’t go away!”
Mrs Meldrum hastily grabbed several items from a drawer in the bedroom and left the room. Mike was left alone, still naked. He sat on the edge of the bed and began to wonder whether he had really made the right decision. She returned in only a couple of minutes.
She looked completely different. Her hair was loose and long around her shoulders, and she had shed her everyday clothes. Now she wore a long, black nightdress that almost reached the ground and flowed and swirled around her legs as she walked. It was tight around her waist and upper body, plunging deeply to reveal her cleavage and a huge expanse of the flesh of her heavy breasts.
“Still here?” she asked as he sat awestruck by her appearance. “Good.”
Her body was against him before he managed to say a word, and without really knowing what was happening he found himself on his back on the bed with Mrs Meldrum kneeling astride him, her hand grasping his erection and easing it into her as she lowered herself onto him. She shuddered with pleasure, the muscles in her thighs, her stomach and between her legs quivering as she took the whole length of his hardness.
Somehow, without really thinking about it, Mike had assumed that having sex with a woman of Mrs Meldrum’s age and size would be far less of a tight physical sensation that with someone younger. In fact, what he now experienced was quite the opposite. Her muscles grasped at his hardness with an unyielding grip and with at least as much pressure as she her previously exerted with her fingers, yet at the same time her arousal had made her moist and well lubricated. Her whole body seemed to radiate sexual power, desire, and need.
She put her hands flat on his chest to support her weight, and then began to move up and down the length of his hardness. Her eyes were closed.
“What!! Already?”
Her shout was almost a scream of anger as his climax came swiftly and unavoidably.
His eyes too had been closed, and now he opened them to stare up at the furious expression on her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said vaguely, “You’re very... very exciting.”
“Exciting? I’ll show you ‘exciting’!”
She leaned forward, reaching towards the corner of the bed. The silky material of her nightdress barely covering her breasts, brushed against his face.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Shut up!”
She leaned further, bringing both hands to whatever she was doing. Her body descended to lie completely on top of him, the massive fleshy canyon of her cleavage enveloping his face smotheringly. His words were lost in the depths of that dark valley between her breasts.
With the full weight of her body lying on him, he was unable to move from underneath her. When she grabbed first one of his arms and then the other, tying a strong cord around each of his wrists and making sure it was firmly attached to each of the top corners of the bed frame, there was nothing he could do to stop her. She sat up once more, as he gasped deep breaths of the air that the fleshiness of her breasts had denied him.
She looked down at him for only a minute or two, and then clambered from the bed to attach a similar cord around each of his ankles, drawing his legs wide apart and fixing him spread-eagled and helpless.
“Hey, let me go!” he protested weakly. “You nearly suffocated me.”
“You wanted ‘exciting’,” she told him. “Now you’ve got it, haven’t you?”
“This is a bit silly,” he complained, trying to look at the cords around his wrists and ankles, and testing them to see if he could break free. He decided that it would be impossible, and now, held here like this outstretched and exposed, he felt considerably more embarrassed and awkward at his nakedness than when she had made him take of his clothes downstairs earlier.
“You should have thought about that before you decided to disappoint me,” Mrs Meldrum reprimanded him. “Yes, I think you do look rather silly, so you can stay there and think about that for a while. I’ll see you later.”
She swept out of the room in a swirl of silky black, leaving him to call his protests and apologies after her. He heard her go down the stairs some minutes later.
Mike had assumed that Mrs Meldrum would return shortly. After all, it seemed ridiculous to leave him there like that, and he was far from being comfortable. When she had still not reappeared after more than half an hour, he began calling her again. She did not reply.
It was in fact more than two hours before she did return, and it was now well into the early hours of Saturday morning. Mrs Meldrum strode into the room now fully dressed once more.
“Well?” she asked imperiously, standing at the end of the bed with her hands on her hips. “Have you had time to consider your position properly? Are you going to make the effort not to disappoint me again?”
“Just let me go,” he begged. “I’m so uncomfortable, and I need to sleep.”
“You’ve had two hours to rest while I’ve been downstairs,” she told him. “Do you mean to tell me that you’re not ready for me?”
Her meaning was obvious, and just in case he had any doubt at all, she reached towards his limp manhood and flicked it with her fingers. To his credit, it did stir a little, but it was very different from the straining erection he had produced earlier.
“Absolutely useless,” she declared. “You’ve had your fun. What do you expect me to do?”
“I’m sorry,” he apologised again, “I can’t do anything. I’m too tired and too uncomfortable. Maybe later, after I’ve had some rest and got myself a bit more comfortable. I’d like to. Really...”
“Bullshit!” she exploded. “You have no intention of making the slightest effort to please me, I can see that. All men are the same; only thinking about themselves. I can see I’m going to have to do this myself.”
Mrs Meldrum opened a drawer and took out a large and efficient-looking ‘rabbit’ vibrator.
“This,” she informed him, “Is a million times more reliable than any man, I can tell you. Don’t look so shocked. Don’t you think that every one of those women you saw this evening has at least one of these, or something very like it? Of course they do. And that goes for most of those who also have husbands. As I said, men are a complete waste of space most of the time, and it’s quite obvious that you’re no exception.”
She twisted the base of the vibrator, and pressed the two slider controls at the bottom of the shaft. A buzzing sound filled the room, the end of the vibrator pulsed from side to side, a circular band not far from its end shook as the small, heavy, metal balls inside it were rotated at high speed, and the “ears” of the rabbit vibrator throbbed as though with a life of their own.
“Excellent,” she said with satisfaction, shutting off the controls. “And don’t you think you’re going to watch me, because you most certainly are not.”
Mrs Meldrum put down the vibrator on the end of the bed as she spoke, and once again looked in the drawer. This time, she produced another of her nightdresses, twisted it into a thick rope, and tied it tightly around Mike’s head over his eyes. It was a highly effective blindfold. He could see nothing at all.
Even though he could not see he could still hear, and Mike could have described what was happening almost step-by-step. There were the rustling sounds as Mrs Meldrum undid the buttons and fastenings on her clothing, and the gentle swish and slight thump as each garment hit the ground. She was, he knew, now totally naked and standing somewhere beside the bed.
Was she looking at him? For several minutes there was nothing; no sound, no movement. He was sure she must be staring at him, and although the thought was disturbing on the basis that he had no idea if she might take it into her head to do something totally unexpected to him, it was also a very exciting thought.
There was a slight movement, perhaps of her bending to pick up the vibrator. Certainly the bed moved slightly. He waited for the click followed by the buzzing sound as the powerful motors in her device sprang into life, and sure enough it came – a low hum at first, quickly increasing to the louder whirring as she increased the level.
There was a thump; a heavy thump and Mike was bounced on the bed, tugged violently against the cords holding him by his wrists and ankles. At the same time, there was a moan that must surely have been one of pleasure. Immediately afterwards, Mike was thrown repeatedly from side to side with considerable force. The moans from Mrs Meldrum increased in volume until the sound filled the room with a high-pitched, continuous squealing. Her body writhed and thrashed around, striking Mike again and again with her arms, her legs, her head and with almost every part of her body, quite oblivious to the bruising she was causing him and to his cries of pain each time she hit him. Finally, after what seemed like hours to Mike, the movements slowly subsided and there was silence only broken by Mrs Meldrum’s heavy, erratic breathing. Even the buzzing of the vibrator had stopped.
It was several minutes before Mike felt any movement. Mrs Meldrum’s breathing had steadied and was now scarcely audible even in the silence of that bedroom. The beating of Mike’s own heart was the loudest noise in his ears, thumping much faster than usual with an urgency that sounded and felt as though it was some great, distant creature trying to break free from its prison for... For what? What did he really want to do right at this moment? If he were not tied securely to the bed, what would he be doing?
Would he leave? Would he forget his promise to be Mrs Meldrum’s servant for the weeks and to do whatever she told him? After all, her behaviour could hardly be considered reasonable by any standards, however much she had paid at that auction for charity.
Or, perhaps, he would tell her that he would stay on condition she stopped this crazy behaviour; that he would do any little tasks around the house she wanted him to do, fully clothed and without being sexually harassed.