Changing Hands

Part 1

CHANGING HANDS

	By Fidelis Blue

	

	

	They'd been dancing for a while, snatching conversation above the
insistent beat. Now the music was slower, quieter. She drew nearer and put her
arm around his neck, running her fingers through his hair.

	'I suppose you'd like to fuck me, wouldn't you,' she said.

	It wasn't quite the way he would have put it, but that was the general
idea, yes.

	He smiled. 'I suppose I would.'

	She drew nearer still, pressing her belly against his. He put his arm
round her waist, gently rubbing the small of her back.

	'How about you?'

	She put her head on one side, as if considering the question. She's got
a lovely mouth, he thought.

	'There's just one teeny problem.'

	He ran through a list in his mind: she has a husband; it's the wrong
time of the month; she has religious scruples...

	'It's not what you think.'

	'So what is it?'

	'Come upstairs,' she said.

	There were two or three people standing in line outside the bathroom. As
they waited they chatted easily. She said her name was Juliet, he told her
Richard. She was a book designer, lived in a cottage in the country.

	When it got to be their turn she held his hand and drew him through the
door. As he closed it after him the woman next in line gave him a disapproving
look.

	'I've got something to show you,' Juliet said.

	She turned away from him, put her hands up under her skirt and pulled
down her knickers. They were of black silk; always a good sign, he thought. She
lifted her skirt right up to her waist, exposing her bottom, naked except for
the two black suspenders at the side supporting her stockings. It was a lovely
bottom, round and smooth and white. Except that across the centre of the
buttocks were a set of long thin purple bruises in parallel lines.

	'My god,' he said. 'Who did that?'

	She turned to him, her skirt still lifted. He could see the dark
triangle of her pubic hair, neatly trimmed.

	'No questions,' she said.

	'But - '

	'No questions. Just note the fact.'

	'OK,' he said. 'OK.'

	She looked at the toilet and smiled. 'Since I'm here, do you mind?'

	'No, no,' he said hurriedly.

	She sat down on the seat. He didn't think he'd ever watched a woman
doing it before. When she'd finished she wiped herself with tissue, stood, and
pulled her knickers back up.

	The sound of it had made him want to go, badly. 'I think I'd better
too.'

	'Can I watch?' Juliet asked.

	He could hardly say no. He positioned himself over the bowl. She stood
beside him. He unzipped and pulled it out. For a while nothing happened. At last
a stream emerged.

	'It's a nice cock,' she said.

	He zipped himself up and washed his hands. As they came out he made a
face at the woman waiting, rolling his eyes in a caricature of lust.

	Downstairs they went to the kitchen for another glass of wine.

	'So,' she said, 'do you still want to?'

	'Yes,' he said. 'More than ever.'

	'And you won't ask questions?'

	'Not about that.'

	They went back to his apartment. He was surprised by the openness and
intensity of her desire. She seemed to hold nothing back. When she sucked his
cock, it was with a combination of delicacy and lasciviousness such as he had
never encountered. And when he entered her she cried out with pleasure,
entreating him to fuck her harder and harder.

	In the morning he watched her from the bed as she padded naked towards
the bathroom. The bruises across her behind were a sudden reminder that another
man had precedence, had power over her. Could he live with that, could he live
with not knowing who or how or why? But could he live without seeing her again?
He knew the answer to that.

	They met again in the middle of the week, had sex again, even better
than before. It was wonderful to meet a woman so frank in her desire, so
generous in giving pleasure. When they met the third time, at the weekend, he
saw that the bruises were fading. Once he didn't have to see them any more
perhaps he could forget about her other life.

	On the Sunday she invited him out to her cottage. They walked in the
country, lunched in a pub. In the afternoon they went to bed. After three hours,
she got up to make them a snack, then they began all over again. He was afraid
he was falling in love. But he couldn't fall in love with a woman who let
another man beat her, surely.

	The next two weeks were the happiest of his life. He lived for the
moments when they were together. The passion and raw lust that she aroused in
him would have been frightening had he not felt it reciprocated.

	The following week she said she had to go away. He waited for her to
tell him why and where, but she offered no explanation. She came back three days
later. After dinner they went back to his apartment. He kissed her and tried to
lead her into the bedroom.

	'Wait,' she said. 'you must look at me first.'

	As before, she turned away from him, pulled down her knickers and lifted
her skirt. Across her firm round buttocks were vivid marks, a reddish purple,
brighter than before. The lines were not so regular. They had evidently been
made by a different implement, though one equally brutal.

	He felt himself go pale and he sat down.

	'You have to know,' she said.

	'Know?' he said. 'What do I know? I know nothing.'

	He knew he sounded angry. He wish he didn't. She sat down beside him and
took his hand.

	'You're the only one I've tried to do this with.'

	'Do what?'

	'Tried to build something, develop something, in full knowledge.'

	'But that's just what I don't have, full knowledge,' he cried.

	She kissed him on the cheek. 'I need you to trust me. And accept me. I
hope I can answer your questions some time. Just for now I can't.'

	He turned and kissed her on the mouth. In bed he held himself back,
making her want him, teasing, taunting her a little by making her expose the
full strength of her craving. He needed that reassurance, that she really did
ache for him.

	The bruises faded and they went on as before. One weekend he went out to
her cottage again. After lunch they went to bed. In the early evening they
showered and went downstairs. She opened a bottle of cold white wine and they
toasted each other.

	'I want to talk,' she said. 'I'm going to tell you all about it. You
mustn't interrupt till I've finished.'

	'Promise,' he said.

	'Just over a year ago I met a man. I've known many men in the ten years
or so since my first, but none of them had truly touched me. Not till this one.
Always before I'd held something back, knowing I wanted more than they could
give me, not knowing how to get it, not even knowing what it was I wanted. This
one knew. He saw into me, tapped into the deep well of my secret self, dug in
the buried seams of my dark desires. Under his guidance I bloomed. What he saw,
and what no one else had seen, was that I wanted someone to take control.
Gradually he led me through the different stages of discipline, training me till
I learned how to be submissive to his will. Nervous at first, fearful of my own
desires as much as his power, I slowly grew in confidence until I allowed myself
to be completely possessed. So now he is my master, and I do his bidding
sexually. In every other way, I do as I please, and the discovery of the true
nature of my sexuality has given me more self-belief. But in my sexual life, I
obey my master.

	'So now you are wondering where you fit in. Other men are not forbidden
to me. But I must tell my master about them, and he has the power to order me
not to see them again, if he wishes. So far he has not done so in your case, but
I must continue to keep him informed. I am afraid that this means every detail
of our sex acts is available to him if he wishes, though in practice he has
asked little beyond the bare facts. So, now you have some questions?'

	He thought for a moment. 'Why did you wait to tell me this?'

	'Two reasons. First, I thought if you knew all this at the start you
wouldn't want to get involved. I mean, who wants a woman who's owned by someone
else? I couldn't avoid you seeing the marks on my body. But I thought the less
you knew the better. Second, I wanted to see what kind of guy you were, whether
you would just be shocked, or whether you liked me enough to trust me and wait
till I was ready to tell you things. The fact I've now done so proves I think
you are that kind of guy. Now that you know more, do you think you can deal with
it?'

	He chose his words carefully. 'I don't like him knowing what we do
together. I'm not sure how I feel about you being disciplined by him. If I'm
honest, I'm both repelled and excited by it.'

	'Excited?'

	'I've never felt this way before. This is all new territory to me.'

	'When you say "excited",' she said slowly, 'you mean your cock is
getting hard?'

	'Yes, that's what I mean.'

	'Show me,' she said.

	He unzipped himself and took it out. He held it, feeling it get harder
still as she watched him. She came over and knelt in front of him.

	'I don't know where this is going either,' she said. 'I've never had a
master and a real lover before. Except for my master other men didn't mean
anything till now. It's uncharted territory. But it's going to be an interesting
journey.'

	She lowered her head and took him in her mouth. He sat back in his chair
and closed his eyes in bliss.

	After a couple more weeks she told him she was going to see her master
again. He lived at the other end of the country, and it was both expensive and
time-consuming to go there. But he had summoned her.

	'I think it's about you,' she said. 'I'll tell you all about it when I
get back.'

	Richard tried to fill up the time while she was away, seeing some
friends he'd been neglecting, catching up on work. Juliet called him as soon as
she got back and came to his apartment that evening. He led her into his sitting
room and sat down in a chair.

	'Take off your skirt,' he said curtly.

	She looked at him sharply, then did as he said.

	'Now the knickers.' She only ever wore silk or satin. It was the
master's orders, she'd told him. And only ever black.

	'Now turn around,' he said.

	Her bottom was a mass of bruises all over, not just across the centre.
Down the back of her thighs were more marks, thin ones, of a cane or whip.
Richard drew in his breath. She turned back to face him.

	'He beat me on my sex, too,' she said. She put her hand there, touching
it gently, as if she could still feel the pain.

	'Was there a reason?' Richard said. She'd told him sometimes she was
beaten just on a whim.

	'Yes. He said he wasn't happy about my seeing you again. He thought you
were getting too important to me. I said I didn't think I could stop now. He
said then I'd have to pay a penalty. It would be severe. He asked me if you were
worth it. I said yes.'

	'And after, did he tell you not to see me again?'

	'No. But he said I'd have to be prepared for further consequences.'

	'And are you?'

	'Come to bed,' she said. 'I'll show you.'

	She said the bruises were still sore. She asked if she could get on top.
She leaned forward with her hands on his chest, pressing her clitoris against
his cock, bringing herself to a sharp, swift climax.

	A few days later they were having dinner together when she said she'd
been speaking to her master. He had a proposal to make.

	'A proposal?' Richard said.

	'He knows I'm not going to give you up. He wants to put things on a
different basis.'

	'How?' Richard was suspicious.

	'It's always been a problem, that he's so far away. We've tried doings
things remotely, by phone or email. Sometimes he tells me to do things to
myself.'

	'Things? What things.'

	'Well, he might tell me to put clamps on my nipples. Or elsewhere. But
it's never so good when he's not there.'

	Richard was silent, waiting to see where this was leading.

	'The thing is,' she said hesitantly, 'he wonders if you would act for
him. As a proxy.'

	Richard looked blank.

	'Perhaps sometimes he could tell you when he thought I needed
discipline, and you could carry it out.'

	'You mean,' Richard said slowly, 'he wants me to beat you?'

	'Well, it may not be that. It could be other things.'

	'And how do you feel about that?'

	'If my master says that's what's going to happen then I have to accept
it.'

	'But you can have feelings, all the same.'

	She looked at him steadily. He felt goose-bumps rising.

	'If you were to put your hand in my knickers right now, I think you'd
have your answer,' she said.

	His hand shook slightly as he picked up his wine glass.

	'I'm prepared to try,' he said. 'But I can't promise I can go through
with it. I won't really know how I feel till it happens.'

	Several days went past, then she called him.

	'I've had some instructions,' she said. 'From you know who.'

	They arranged to wait until the weekend, when they could go to her
cottage. He spent the rest of the week in turmoil. What would he be asked to do?
Could he carry it out? Would he be too squeamish? Too prudish? Too cowardly?

	They drove down together. In the car Richard was silent. Juliet
chattered away as if everything was normal, but it was nervousness that kept her
talking, trying to take their minds off what was coming.

	When Richard was seated in the cottage with a drink, Juliet came to him
with an envelope.

	'As you can see, it's sealed. I don't know what's in it.'

	He took the envelope, tore it open and read.

	
'Dear Richard (if I may),
We haven't met, and may never do so. But now there is a bond between us. I feel
somewhat nervous but also excited at the prospect of sharing Juliet with you. I
would not presume to instruct you on how to proceed with her, but I would like
to offer just one or two points of advice. First, I would start slowly. You have
all the time in the world to ease into whatever relationship you wish to
establish with her. Should that include administering discipline (and I
sincerely hope it will), my experience is that things are more likely to go well
if approached carefully and methodically.

	Let me make a suggestion. It has always been my policy to forbid Juliet
to masturbate. This has been hard for her because we are so far away and meet
only rarely. In between our meetings I know she is often racked with desire. On
occasion I have alleviated it by instructing her to pleasure herself over the
phone. But usually I have preferred to deny her relief. The way of the
submissive is not meant to be easy, after all. And it has always been my
position that Juliet's desire should be expended for my delight, not hers.
Properly speaking, a submissive has no right to pleasure of her own. Everything
she does is for her master.

	My suggestion, therefore, is that you question her about her
masturbation habit. It may be that since she commenced having sex with you she
no longer needs the extra relief. But my guess is, knowing her as I do, that
having relations with you has only served to quicken her desire and that she is
still pleasuring herself in between times. If you find that she has broken the
rules you should feel free to exact a penalty of your own choosing.

	I hope to hear soon that you have successfully made a start in imposing
yourself on this beautiful, compliant but sometimes wayward girl.

	

	Yours faithfully,

	

	Charles

	

	Richard set down the letter. His heart was beating fast. Juliet was
looking at him nervously, a little smile on her lips. He looked around the room.
Against the wall was a wooden chair. He pointed at it.

	'Put that in the centre of the room and sit on it,' he said, trying to
make his voice firm and steady.

	She did as he said. She crossed her legs, revealing most of one thigh
below her short skirt. It was a warm day and her legs were bare.

	'Don't cross your legs,' he said. 'Sit with them together, the feet
lightly apart, your hands in your lap.'

	He stood up and began to pace about the room.

	'When did you last masturbate?' he said.

	She laughed. 'I knew he'd start with that. He's got such a thing about
it.'

	'I said,' he repeated sternly, 'when did you last masturbate?'

	She giggled. 'I decline to answer on the grounds that I may incriminate
myself.'

	'Was it yesterday? The day before?'

	'What would you like me to say? Have you been thinking about me doing
that?'

	This was exasperating. Richard knew she was provoking him deliberately.
He needed to impose himself.

	'Do you have any equipment here?' he asked. 'Restraints, things like
that?'

	'I'll show you,' she said.

	She took him up to the bedroom. Under the window seat were two drawers.
She opened the top one. Inside he saw steel handcuffs, leather wrist and ankle
cuffs, a spreader bar, several leather collars and assorted gags.

	'Is that the sort of thing you mean?' she said sweetly.

	He picked up the handcuffs. 'Come over here.'

	She followed him across to the large brass bedstead. Richard snapped one
of the cuffs on her wrist.

	'Lie on the bed.'

	He passed the cuffs behind one of the brass struts at the top of the
bed, then clicked it on to her other wrist. She lay back, getting comfortable.
She had a quizzical look on her face. Richard undid the belt of her jeans, then
unzipped them. He pulled them down over her ankles, slipping off her shoes and
socks. Then he pulled down the little pair of black silk knickers. He stood and
looked at her naked belly and the triangle of dark, closely cropped hair below.
He wondered what it would look like shaved clean. How would Charles like that?

	'Spread your legs,' he said.

	From the drawer in the bedside table he took the tube of lubricant she
kept there. He squeezed a little on his finger, then slid it gently between the
lips of her sex, moving it upwards slowly till he found the soft little nub at
the top. She shuddered slightly. He began to move his finger around, feeling her
clitoris growing, hardening. He knew by now exactly how she liked it, not across
the top but just on one side, the movements slow but firm. She was breathing
deeply now. With his other hand he undid her blouse and pulled her bra up to
expose her breasts. He pinched the nipple nearest him and heard her gasp. Still
moving his finger between her legs, he bent and took the nipple in his mouth,
sucking hard. She held her breath as he closed his teeth around it and slowly
put them together, biting carefully as she moaned with pleasure.

	He took his mouth away but still his finger moved between her legs. He
knew that to come she would want him to go faster now, but he maintained a
steady speed.

	'So,' he said, 'when did you last masturbate?'

	'We'll talk about that later,' she said, her voice thick with longing.

	He took his hand away. 'We'll talk now,' he said.

	'No,' she cried, 'no please, don't stop.'

	He put his finger back, resting it just lightly on the throbbing little
bud but not moving it.

	'Please,' she said. 'Oh god, please.'

	He started to move his finger again, but so slowly she writhed against
it, trying to stimulate herself more. He took his finger away again.

	'When?' he said. 'Yesterday? The day before?'

	'I suppose he told you I'm not allowed to,' she said in a fierce
whisper. 'But that's wrong. I can do it sometimes, I just have to tell him
afterwards.'

	He put his finger back and started to move it again, but much too
slowly.

	'Lies,' he said.

	'OK,' she said, 'please, just let me come and I'll tell you everything.
I can't bear this much longer.'

	'Don't bargain with me,' he said. 'You're in no position.'

	He moved his finger just a tiny bit.

	'I'm ashamed to tell you,' she said.

	He stopped moving, just keeping his finger there.

	'What do I care about that?' he said.

	She was silent, just gritting her teeth. He knew she was trying to will
herself to come, no matter what he did. But he wouldn't let it happen.

	'I think you need a little lesson in how to tell the truth,' he said.
'So you can just stay there till you've learned it.'

	He went down the stairs. As he did so he could hear her calling out,
pleading with him not to go, not to leave her suspended on the brink of orgasm.
He looked at his watch. It was 2.30. Time for a little walk, perhaps. He got the
front door key from her bag and strolled outside, locking the door behind him.
It was a warm afternoon. As he sauntered down the lane he smiled to himself,
scarcely able to believe what he had done. He truly had had no idea of what
might transpire when they had been driving down. Yet here he was, having tied
her up and resisted all her entreaties. He felt his cock go rigid as he savoured
the pleasure of control, of having the power to make her beg. Why had it taken
this long for him to learn about the delights of domination? What a sheltered
life he'd lived. But now there was a chance to make up for lost time. He would
take it slowly, as Charles had advised, feeling his way, deciding at each point
just how much further he would go. What was exciting was the knowledge that
however far he chose to go,  Juliet had been there first, was already there,
ready to welcome him. He grinned to himself. Perhaps she didn't know what she
was getting into.

	Half an hour later he had done a circle through the fields and was
coming through the village on the way back to the cottage. Time to see if she
had reconsidered her defiance. He passed the village pub and suddenly felt
thirsty after his walk. Perhaps a beer might refresh him. And if Juliet had to
wait another half an hour, well so much the better.

	When at last he entered the house he heard Juliet calling down.

	'Richard, is that you?'

	'Are you expecting someone else?' he said as he walked up the stairs.

	She smiled at him from the bed. 'OK,' she said. 'I've learned my lesson.
Come and fuck me.'

	'First,' he said, 'I don't care to hear such bad language. Second, never
tell me what to do. Third, I'm still waiting to hear about your episodes of
self-abuse.'

	She laughed. 'Self abuse? OK, I use the vibrator once in a while. It
doesn't affect my performance with you, does it?'

	He sat down beside her and stroked her naked belly with the palm of his
hand.

	'It's forbidden,' he said. 'That's all there is to it. You have to do
what you're told, and you haven't.'

	'Jesus,' she said. 'I had no idea you'd be such a stickler. Look, just
let me go and we can talk about this.'

	He pushed her thighs apart and lowered his head between them. He was
astonished at how wet she was. The juice had seeped out of her and dribbled on
to the sheet underneath. He licked up the outside of her labia, first one side
then the other, each time taking his tongue off just before it reached her
clitoris. She started breathing in heavily.

	'God, that's good. Please, some more. Oh, please.'

	He let his tongue slide lightly across the tip of her clitoris. Her body
jerked, as if it had received an electric shock.

	'When was the last time?' he asked.

	'Jesus,' she said. 'You're so persistent.'

	Trying to break her down was all very well, but it was exciting him so
much he didn't know how long he'd be able to hold out himself. He wanted her,
wanted her badly. But if he fucked her, the way she was sexed up she'd come
almost as soon as he was in her. Unless he did it some other way. Either that,
or he'd have to bring things to a resolution by putting the pressure on more
seriously. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that yet.

	On an impulse he unlocked one of her wrists. He turned her over on to
her stomach, then clicked the handcuffs shut again.

	'What are you doing?' she said.

	'Be quiet,' he answered.

	He sat beside her and stroked her naked bottom. He ran his fingers over
the adorable little dimples just above where the buttocks began their smooth
swell. He traced the curves of her rump, from top to bottom, down to the little
crease where the buttock met the back of the thigh. He felt the tiny hairs, soft
like the bloom on a peach. How lovely a woman's ass is compared to a man's, he
thought; how round and plump and full of promise. He saw how you could get
fixated on an ass, want to do things to it.

	He parted the cheeks and, bending low, flicked his tongue across the
tiny puckered hole. She let out a gasp of pleasure. He stood up and took off his
clothes. He picked up the lubricant and knelt beside her. He squirted it
directly on to her asshole, smeared it around then pushed some of it inside her
with his finger.

	'Kneel,' he said.

	He pushed her head down so her ass was sticking right up. He knelt down
on one knee behind her, giving himself some leverage. He put a little lubricant
on his cock before pressing it against the slippery entrance to her ass.

	'Relax,' he said. 'Just accept it.'

	He pushed against her. At first she seemed to be resisting. He didn't
want to hurt her, at least not this way. But his blood was up, he wanted to
bugger her more than anything he'd ever wanted. He pushed harder, then suddenly
it slid inside an inch or two. He worked it in and out carefully, trying to get
more lubrication into her. Gradually it got easier as she stopped fighting it
and as his cock got slippery. It was such a delicious feeling to be buried right
up inside her ass, he wanted it to go on for ever, but it excited him too much
and all too soon he came, his ejaculation so intense and powerful it was almost
unbearable.

	His cock grew soft and he slid out of her. He lay for a moment, watching
the creamy stuff seep out of her ass. He put his hand between her legs and
squeezed the lips of her sex together. He'd never felt her so wet.

	'Make me come,' she whispered.

	'When did you last masturbate?'

	'Oh., fuck you,' she said.

	'You're a very obstinate young woman,' he said. 'No wonder you got your
ass smacked so hard.'

	He undid the cuffs.

	'Time to take a shower,' he said.

	He led her into the bathroom. Under the shower he washed her carefully,
rinsing the fluids from her orifices front and back. He dried her, then led her
back into the bedroom.

	'Get dressed,' he said.

	She looked for a moment as if she would dispute his order, but she
turned and began to put on underwear. When they were both dressed he led her
downstairs.

	'I'm starving,' he said.

	She made them omelettes and a salad. Afterwards they watched some
television, her sitting on the floor at his feet as he stroked her hair. Around
ten he said they should go upstairs. In bed she sidled up against him, rubbing
her naked body against his.

	'Fuck me,' she said. 'Please fuck me,'

	'Go to sleep,' he said.

	She turned over and he cradled her from behind. He didn't want her to
think he'd turned cold. But he wasn't going to be the first to give in.

	In the middle of the night something woke him. He reached out for
Juliet, but the bed was empty. Somewhere in the distance there was a noise. He
got out of bed and padded softly to the bathroom. From the other side of the
door came a low hum. He threw the door open. Juliet was sitting naked on the
toilet seat, her vibrator pressed between her legs. She gave a cry of dismay as
he snatched it from her grasp. He grabbed her wrist and hauled her to her feet,
dragging her back into the bedroom. Dropping the vibrator on the bedside table,
he picked up the handcuffs and, throwing her down, cuffed her to the bed.

	'I'll deal with you in the morning,' he said.

	'I can't sleep like this,' she wailed.

	'Shut up,' he said, 'or I'll put a gag on too.'

	She started whimpering. Was it real or was she play-acting? He decided
he didn't care. Either way, he was going to win this battle.

	He slept fitfully as Juliet tossed and turned, rattling the cuffs
against the brass bedstead. He awoke in the morning with an erection, as he
always did. Something was rubbing against his cock. He opened his eyes and saw
Juliet lying across the bed, her legs towards him. Her foot was pressed against
his groin, rubbing on the tip of his cock. As he lay there, she pulled back his
foreskin with her big toe.

	'Fuck me,' she said. 'I can tell you want to.'

	He moved away. 'I'm going for a shower.'

	When he came back she was lying with her back to him.

	'You're being cruel now,' she said.

	'Cruel? I've hardly started,' he said.

	He unlocked the cuffs and took her into the bathroom. He watched while
she showered, then watched her dress. Downstairs he made breakfast while she
read the paper. She seemed to have overcome her resentments, reading out choice
items that amused her. After breakfast he suggested a walk. It was a beautiful
late summer's day. They walked through golden beech woods as the sun slanted
through the leaves, dappling the ground. After an hour they stopped to rest on a
fallen tree trunk, sitting in silence as they absorbed the beauty of the scene.

	Suddenly he spoke. 'Stand up.'

	She looked at him in surprise, then got to her feet. He reached out,
undid the belt of her jeans and unzipped them. He pulled them down to her knees,
then her knickers too.

	'Bend over the tree,' he ordered.

	He knelt behind her and thrust his cock into her. He fucked her hard,
driving himself into her relentlessly, trying to make himself come before she
could get her climax. In a fierce spasm he ejaculated and immediately withdrew.
He was sure she hadn't come. She stood and wiped between her legs, then pulled
up her jeans. He took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly on the
mouth.

	'God,' he said. 'I never thought it could be like this.'

	They had lunch in the pub then spent the afternoon back at the cottage
reading the Sunday papers. After an hour or so he glanced up to find she was
looking at him. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

	'The last time I did it was on Thursday,' she said. 'I was working at
this publisher's office. I kept thinking about what we might do this weekend and
I got so excited I just had to go to the women's room. I locked myself in a
cubicle and just did it.'

	He sat for a while thinking about this. Then he told her to follow him
upstairs.

	'I want you to put on the exact clothes you were wearing on Thursday,'
he said.

	Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember. She went to her wardrobe and
pulled out a dark blue woollen suit, the jacket cut tight, the skirt short and
narrow.

	'And what went underneath,' he said.

	From a drawer she pulled a black silk bra and knickers, a matching
suspender belt and some sheer black stockings. She went back to the wardrobe and
took out a while cotton blouse. She started to dress.

	'Shoes,' he said when she'd put the clothes on. She stepped into a pair
of navy blue leather shoes with medium heels.

	'Now,' he said, 'I want to watch you do exactly what you did on
Thursday. In the bathroom.'

	He followed her as she went and sat on the toilet. She hitched up her
skirt and pulled her knickers down to her knees. She put a hand between her
legs. He saw how she placed the middle finger of her right hand just lightly
between the lips of her sex, at the top. She began to move the finger in a
circular movement. She closed her eyes. Her other hand began to undo the buttons
of her blouse, then reached inside her bra, fondling her nipple.

	'What were you thinking?'

	She continued to rub herself. 'Must I?' she said.

	'Tell me,' he insisted.

	'I'm in a room underground. Maybe it's a dungeon. I'm bound to a wooden
bench with ropes. I'm blindfolded. Men keep coming in, one at a time. They have
a choice: they can either beat me or fuck me. Some choose one, some the
other....'

	'How many men come in?'

	'How many? I don't - oh, my god, I'm coming.'

	When her spasms had subsided he took her into the bedroom and made her
kneel on the bed. He hitched her skirt up and pulled her knickers back down
again. He smacked her on her bare bottom, quite hard. She squealed. He wasn't
sure if it was a genuine cry of pain or just make-believe. He pushed his cock
into her and fucked her hard and fast.

	After he'd gone back to town he had time to reflect. How quickly things
had changed between them. He marvelled at how the switch to a different mode had
changed her, made her almost a different person. Made him different too. She'd
brought to the surface feelings he never knew he had, strange, disturbing, even
frightening feelings. He hardly recognised this other person he could become.
Well, he thought, you'll just have to get acquainted with him....