His Mistress’s Voice (11 page)

These were rhetorical questions so long as she kept him handcuffed, and so he made no reply. But her words had the effect she had calculated. His breath sawed in his throat as she whispered these enticements in his ear.

She continued, ‘I’m going to test your resistance, Tom, so keep your chin up and don’t let the side down.’ Harriet appeared to have a fondness for mixed metaphor. ‘I’m going to give you a case of what our American cousins call blue balls.’ Seeing his uncomprehending look, she went on, ‘You really ought to read more widely, Tom. Blue balls is the term they use to describe how a man feels when a woman teases him but won’t allow him to touch her. In extreme cases (and this will be an extreme case, I assure you), she plays with him until he’s ready to burst. And then she leaves him to stew while she enjoys his frustration. I admit it’s a nasty practice, developed before the feminists came along and substituted their own version of it. The game is usually played in a car. That’s partly because the Americans are more mobile than we are, and partly because the woman who tries it indoors where there is a bed handy is at a big disadvantage when she decides to disengage. She can always make a run from the car and get inside before he can react. Usually she will promise him more later as she makes her escape. She may or may not be sincere in her offer. They usually don’t tie their partners. It’s only perverts like me who do that. They rely on a quick escape, and on his sense of honour and male pride: “You wouldn’t take advantage of little old helpless me, would you?” Since we’re indoors, and because I don’t know if you have a sense of honour yet, you will have to be restrained, but I promise to make this as enjoyable as possible. Incidentally, that’s something
they
don’t often do.’

As she spoke, Harriet continued to stroke his scrotum. His erection was huge. Quite noticeable, in fact, and Harriet noticed! ‘Are you getting excited, Tom? Would you like me to talk dirty? Shall I tell you what I’m going to do?’

Tom didn’t say anything. He was busy experiencing things, and talk seemed superfluous.

Her fingers moved to his cock. She ran a fingernail up and down the sensitive underside, and he jerked reflexively. ‘That’s a good way to test reflexes, don’t you think? Much better than hitting your patella with a rubber hammer, though I guess they’re testing for a different reflex when they do that. But let’s see how your other reflexes are.’ Harriet circled his erect cock with her fingers and squeezed him gently. His breath came in a gasp. ‘Like that, do you? Let’s continue.’

Tom was agreeable. He had reached the uncritical stage by now. Anything she wanted to do was all right by him.

Harriet resumed nibbling his earlobe. He found that pleasant now rather than arousing. What was going on further south – now
that
was arousing. So he was disappointed when she abruptly ceased her attentions to his cock and balls. She seemed to sense that he was near to bursting point, and she had no intention of letting him get that far. She shifted back to kissing: the corners of his mouth; his chin, and his neck, where she planted a lovebite. A brand, she called it. ‘Proves you’re owned. By me.’ She kissed him hard on the mouth, thrusting her tongue inside. Tom responded readily.

Then she drew back. ‘That’s enough for now,’ she said. She got up and crossed back to the chair she had occupied earlier. As she sat down she remarked, ‘You can carry on admiring the view now if you like.’ Harriet crossed her legs and Tom heard again the whisper of nylon as she resumed her temptress-in-repose posture. Tom felt tempted, but he knew better than to get up and cross the space between them. Even if Harriet had not forbidden it (and the handcuffs prevented it), he still didn’t want to appear to beg or fawn over her. He thought how very nice it would be to rise and bury his face in her crotch, breathing in the mingled aroma of Harriet and leather. They can’t put you in jail for thinking.

But he did nothing, ruefully contemplating the erection she had given him. Blue balls indeed. He wondered what else she had in mind. So far the afternoon and evening had gone like the erotic dreams of a teenager. He didn’t want to wake up. It would be so much nicer to string things out for as long as he could hold out, though Harriet was the one who controlled that. He could do nothing to guide or prevent her. Even his cock was out of reach and control. He couldn’t even touch himself. Harriet had made him helpless with his cooperation. Tom had never contemplated the pleasure of being powerless until Beth had led him down the paths of her own sexual adventures. Now he realised he was ready for more. Perhaps Beth had sensed that and had turned him over to Harriet – much as one used to be sent off to finishing school. He remembered that she had made a remark very much like that.

Harriet herself seemed to be inordinately interested in the television programme, or it may have been a pose of studied disinterest. Another test of his endurance. It wasn’t easy to sit across the room from an attractive woman dressed as provocatively as she was and not think of sweaty sex. To Tom it was like being told not to think of elephants. Immediately the words were said he could think of nothing else. He was sure he caught Harriet stealing sidelong glances at him from time to time, studying him covertly beneath her pose of indifference. But he was never quick enough to catch her actually looking at him. If his own inability to tear his thoughts away from her was any indication, she must at least have been glancing at him as well.

His cock stayed at attention for a long time, even though it wasn’t receiving any attention. And when his erection subsided a bit it was only necessary to stare at Harriet, or even catch the creak of leather or the whisper of nylon as she changed her position, to restore it. He had wondered, in an idle and relaxed way, if he were a leg and stocking fetishist. He always ended the enquiry by agreeing that he might be slightly obsessed, but that didn’t matter. It was at least an agreeable obsession, one he could manage to gratify frequently enough to keep him from having to steal ladies underwear from clotheslines.

And sometimes, like now, he got to stare at a woman in tights for hours. Or what seemed like hours. Harriet gave no sign of ending the tableau anytime soon. He remembered the long session with Beth, when she had asked him to tie her up and had dressed specially for the occasion. Along with the nostalgic regrets he found himself remembering the excitement of calling on Beth, not knowing what new scheme she had in mind. Those memories did nothing to lessen his excitement now with Harriet. Nor did they do anything to lessen his erection.

At length Harriet stirred, breaking his reverie. She stood and walked out into the kitchen as Tom admired the movement of her hips and legs. She wasn’t out of the room for long, and when she came back she moved behind the settee, reaching down to fondle his half-erect cock.

‘Have you been keeping this for me?’ she asked. ‘How thoughtful,’ she continued, answering her own question. ‘I’m not sure just what I should do with it. I could put you out of your misery, but I don’t think I will. Instead I’ll just turn the screw a bit more and see how you react. Remember not to let the side down.’ As she spoke she moved into Tom’s line of sight. He saw that she had brought a riding crop back from her foray into the kitchen. Harriet swished the crop once or twice for effect, then brought it down abruptly across his stomach. Tom whuffed and lurched forward, but he didn’t cry out. This seemed to please Harriet. ‘I’m glad to see you’re not a cry baby. Did you like that?’ Before he could even think of an answer she struck him again, this time across the tops of the thighs. The tassel at the end of the crop dealt his cock a glancing blow. Along with the pain and surprise he felt a thrill of pleasure. In all their explorations Beth had never used a crop on him.

Harriet raised the crop to strike again. ‘Where would you like me to hit you now?’ Tom didn’t answer. ‘Can’t decide? Or are you just leaving things up to me? I think that’s wise. I know what to do – what you’ll like.’ Harriet carried on her one-sided conversation, not bothered by his lack of response, or by the bizarre proposal she was making. Tom thought that Beth was never so cool and sure of herself. She had seemed faintly embarrassed at times. Maybe if she had stayed a bit longer things would have eased still more. Tom snapped back to the present when he heard the swish of the crop in Harriet’s hands.

Instead of striking him again Harriet leaned forward and kissed his nipples. Tom was surprised and aroused. He had a clear view down her cleavage at the swelling of her breasts. He fancied he could even see her nipples, and he imagined how they would feel in his hands. He wanted to reach out and touch them, but of course he couldn’t. He stirred restlessly on the couch, wishing she would do something about his bursting cock. Once again Harriet seemed to read his mind. She knelt before him and reached for his erection. Tom let out his pent-up breath, noting how her tights swelled tautly at her bent knees. He admired the ripe contours of her thighs and calves. Yes, I’m definitely a leg and stocking man, he thought as she leaned forward and took him into her mouth.

And then he stopped thinking about even that as her tongue left a scalding trail up and down his cock. She nipped delicately at the head of his shaft with her small, even teeth. He managed to gasp out, ‘What sharp teeth you have, grandma,’ before he lost all interest in conversation. If this was a time of trial and testing, as Harriet had averred, he wondered what the reward for successful completion of the course might be. Harriet cupped and stroked his scrotum with her left hand. She scratched him sharply, abruptly at the base of his cock with her fingernail. Tom grunted, more in pleased surprise than in pain.

‘Is that another sensitive spot?’ Harriet asked unnecessarily. ‘You seem to be all nerves tonight. Anything to do with the company?’

‘Must be the company,’ Tom managed to grunt. Harriet continued the manipulation of his cock and balls and once more Tom felt his scrotum grow tight beneath the constricting band. He gave a low groan, which Harriet took as a sign of pleasure.

She took his cock into her mouth once more and bobbed her head so that he slid in and out. Her lips closed tightly around the shaft and her tongue teased him as she moved. Harriet could feel the tension building in him as she continued the arousal. She continued until he felt as if he could hold out no longer, then, judging the moment nicely, she drew back and looked at him.

He tried to thrust himself closer to her, wanting Harriet to continue. She closed her lips primly in reproof, but the effect was spoiled the next moment when she grinned mischievously and licked a few drops from the corners of her mouth. ‘You’re doing well, Tom,’ she remarked. ‘I didn’t think you’d be able to hold out this long.’

‘I’m not the one holding out. You are,’ Tom grunted. ‘Aren’t my balls blue enough for you yet?’

‘Not quite. We’ll go for navy blue tonight. I think we can go on for hours yet. But I’m not holding back. Wouldn’t you just love to feel how wet I’ve become under all this leather?’ Seeing the expression on his face, she continued, ‘Yes, I can imagine you wanting to get at me. But not just yet.’ Harriet sat beside Tom on the settee and began to run her hands up and down her legs, stroking herself as she knew he wanted to do. ‘These tights are really sheer and glossy, aren’t they? They feel so smooth. Do you like them? Yes, I can see you do. Watch while I stroke my legs and imagine what it would feel like if you could do it.’

As she spoke Harriet’s hands moved slowly up and down her thighs, from knees to crotch and back down again, as if she were gathering herself into her centre. His eyes followed her hands. Harriet kept her own fixed mainly on her legs. Now and then she looked up at him to see if he was still watching. His erection told her he was paying attention. The stroking hands seemed to be having the desired effect. His gaze was fixed on her legs and his breathing was clearly audible.

‘I’m glad to see I have your undivided attention. You should always pay attention when someone is trying to teach you something. You’ll know a lot about self-restraint before we’re done. You’ll be quite virtuous, as such things are mistakenly called.’ With a lascivious grin Harriet continued stroking her thighs. Tom could hear the whisper of her hands as they slid over the smooth nylon. His hands twisted behind his back and there was a faint grinding from the chain, but the handcuffs were unyielding.

Soon it became apparent that Harriet was concentrating her efforts on the tops of her thighs, where the black leather ran tautly between her legs. She began to stroke herself gently from front to back, making her fingernail rasp on the leather from time to time for emphasis. After a few minutes of this she wormed a finger beneath the leather at her crotch and worked it around. When she pulled it out, she held it up to Tom’s nose. He could smell the musk of her arousal.

‘Harriet,’ he began, but stopped when he saw her expression.

‘I told you not to call me that without permission, didn’t I, Tom?’ She raised the crop and struck him a stinging blow on the underside of his erect cock. He yelped in surprise and jumped away as far as he could. His face went red, and there was a faint red stripe where she had struck him.

Harriet watched him as he writhed and strained at the handcuffs. Doubtless he wanted to hold himself. She waited until he subsided. ‘Don’t worry. There won’t be any permanent damage. But you’ll have to learn to do what I tell you. Now, address me properly if you have anything to say.’

‘Mistress,’ he began again, ‘take these handcuffs off.’ Instantly she raised the crop, and he added a hasty ‘please’.

She lowered the crop and his eyes followed its descent. ‘That’s better, but you’ll have to be more careful in future. Now where were we? Yes. There,’ she said, bending to plant a kiss on his cock. ‘Just this once I’ll kiss it better, then we can take a break and you can stare at me some more while thinking sexy thoughts.’

Harriet turned her attention then once more to the TV, not unaware of the effect on Tom. He was becoming something of an expert in blue balls by the time Harriet decided to go to bed. He had been hoping that she would relax the look-don’t-touch rule for their sleeping arrangements. He found he had been assuming that they would sleep together. But she didn’t relent. There was one more session of kissing and fondling which almost made him explode but, as before, Harriet knew just when to stop. Tom was sweating and trembling when she finished with him. Harriet gave one more playful squeeze to his cock before she stood up.