A Specialist Lady · Part 1 (1/2)
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It was mid afternoon on a chill winter day. Mark was on his way to visit his mistress Heather in her residential unit in a quiet middle class area.
He was just turned forty, never married, was lean, fit and still had most of his hair. He still might have been considered reasonably youthful. At least his lady friend thought so. He was an investment advisor by occupation.
Heather, herself was slightly younger. One brief, unhappy marriage in her early thirties was now behind her. Best forgotten, she thought.
She still had most of her early slimness and was as healthy as her partner. Her oval face retained some of its youth and was attractively framed with short dark brown hair. She held a senior position in the office where she worked. After a bitter divorce she had managed to gain possession of the jointly shared apartment and was thankful for this. She was on good terms with most of the other residents in the building. It was here that she and Mark held most of their meetings.
The two had met at a local gathering four years ago. At first both were a little wary, but after a few outings had realized that, at first, each simply wanted ongoing companionship and had settled to a comfortable friendship. Then, as time passed they got to know each other and had finally became successful lovers. This pleased both of them.
A few months back their relationship had taken a new turn. One evening, after a satisfactory love-making they were sitting in the lounge of Heather's unit sipping drinks and idly watching late TV news. An item was broadcast concerning a bank raid that day in which three lady staff members had been bound and gagged. They had been in this situation for several hours before managing to get free and give the alarm. Now, one of them was on the screen herself telling, in some detail, how they had been surprised, overpowered and tied up. Heather and Mark had watched with interest.
After, they had looked at each other and then began to speculate how the captive trio must have felt as they were forcibly made helpless.
And wondered if, while in this condition they had been sexually taken advantage of. The raid had taken several hours and they were in their captors' power for some time. Such an item being delicately left out of a public news broadcast.
In short, there and then, they discovered they each had an interest in consensual bondage. And that very same evening did something about it.
Heather produced two old bed sheets which they tore into long strips and sashes. And then, very carefully and gently, Mark tied Heather up.
Later she tied him to her bed, undid his clothing and did some delightful things to his genitals. At the end of the evening they carefully put away the restraints they had used in a box to be used for future pleasures. Their lovemaking, previously cautious and restrained, had entered whole new era. One they looked forward to with eager anticipation.
And so it had progressed, if slowly. They gradually elaborated their procedures, tentatively and imaginatively developing scenarios to add spice to what they were doing. A long deprived old maid, victim of a home invasion, who deliberately resists her attacker, hoping to arouse and provoke him to assault. The delicately reared young woman, kidnapped for white slave purposes. This called for scriptwriting imagination, which they wished they had more of. But which they tried hard at.
To get back to Mark's afternoon visit. As he entered the apartment building he wondered what playacting they might do tonight. Lately they had been running low on ideas. He wished that, between them, they had some inclination toward creative writing.
Heather let him in, took his coat, hung it up and led him to sit on her lounge. She was wearing a white blouse and trim neat skirt.
Surprisingly, she offered him a drink. Normally this happened after their love-play was over. He wondered why.
"Tonight, things may be a little different," she began quietly, "Someone is on to us."
Mark was startled and looked at her. "What's happened?" he asked with surprise, "How'd this come about?"
"It all started after last time," she began. "You had just left. I was sitting here on the lounge like now in a state of exhausted bliss."
She smiled as she thought of it, "Remember. I had been a never married, middle aged schoolteacher whose house had been broken into by mistake. Her intruder felt he should still get something for his trouble. She, in her state of frustrated loneliness had agreed to this but insisted on being securely tied up and gagged first to save her reputation. Otherwise, she'd give a detailed and accurate description of him." She recalled this fondly, "I thought it was one of our best efforts." Mark nodded. He hadn't enjoyed it as much but had gone along with the act for her pleasure.
"Anyway," Heather continued, "I was lying here, delightfully relaxed, with the sashes, ties and the two gags on the table beside me, just where we'd left them. I was going to put them away later." She paused, "And then the front doorbell rang. Without thinking I got up and answered it."
"It was a lady from the next floor up. Two days ago I'd borrowed her blender and now she wanted it back in a hurry. She just pushed past me, into the room and walked to the table where our things were."
"Who is she?" asked Mark.
"She's a tall, wiry lady, very strong, I'd say. Fifties, possibly older. Retired. She had a desk job in stage or film I believe. A very forceful person, strong personality, not someone you'd want to get on the wrong side of. Narrow, lined sort of face, greying hair." She concluded, "Her name's Chantelle. I don't know her other name, though I've known her for years."
"And she saw our stuff?" Mark asked.
"She walked right to the table, looked at it, recognized it instantly and didn't seem at all surprised," Heather went on, "She just said, 'Into bondage are you? I've wondered about you two. I've seen that male friend of yours coming and going.' She looked at some of our things and even picked up one of the gags and said, 'I don't like this though. Too big and the wrong shape. You could choke on this.' She seemed to know all about it."
Mark was trying to take this in, "So she knew or guessed what we've been doing. What did she say from there?"
"She went on, 'I could help you two. Help you quite a lot. But not now. I'm too busy. Give me my blender and I'll be on my way.' "
Heather paused. "And so I got it and gave it to her. I only wanted her out of the place. Her last words from the door were, 'Next time your boy friend comes round I'll join you. I assure you I can really make things interesting.' Then she was gone."
"She wants to join us?" Mark was incredulous, "Make a threesome? That sounds kinky. Though," he smiled, "There are some who would say what we're doing already is pretty kinky. What sort of a woman is she?"
"Well," said Heather, "I've told you. She's a strong character. I think she worked for a film company before she retired. But I understand she did something very different most of her working life.
She's got a very inquiring, investigative mind. Always seems to know everything. Probably knows you're here now."
Mark was disbelieving. "She couldn't possibly know that. I've never even met her." At that moment the front doorbell rang.
The two looked at each other. Wordlessly, Heather got up to answer it.
And it was the mysterious Chantelle from the floor above. And she didn't stand on ceremony. "Good afternoon Heather," she began, "Your young man's here isn't he?" And with that she walked in, pushing the door closed behind her. The lock clicked shut.
She looked like Heather had described her. Tall, lean and exuded an air of command. She also wore a neat skirt, polished ankle length fashionable boots and above this a soft leather, belted jacket. This last was shiny black and glistened like silk. She walked straight over to where Mark was sitting.
"So you're the partner in bondage are you? She stood before him, both hands thrust deep into the pockets of her shining coat. "You're Matt, aren't you?"
Mark stood up to face this formidable woman. "Mark," he corrected, "And you, I believe, are Chantelle?"
"Right," she said, looking around at both of them, "You've probably heard something of me and I'll tell you now I didn't always work for Sublime Films. That came only recently. Before that, amongst other things, I was deeply involved in what you're at present only hesitantly finding your way. And I can help you. Very much indeed. To your great benefit. And perhaps save you some grief."
Mark and Heather gaped at this authoritative personage who had just walked into both their lives. She, in turn, looked from one to the other and smiled. "It was a speciality, one I very much enjoyed, as, I feel, I'm going to enjoy this." She turned and looked at the cardboard box containing their bondage things which had been placed on the table. "But, let's not waste time. To business."
Chantelle groped around in the box and found the gag that Heather had earlier said she had denounced as too large. "This is dangerous. A person could suffocate on this." And without further ado she untied it, refolded the cloth wad so that it was little more than half the size and retied it with the sash that held it in place. "There. Much more comfortable, just as effective and safe." Replacing it, she turned to look smiling at her two hosts. "Now then I've got a few ideas for you two as well." They looked at her.
Mark was wondering about this domineering woman. At first he had resented the way she was thrusting herself upon them. But then he had been feeling for some time that their bondage relationship was beginning to pall was now thinking that, if she was the experienced practician she implied she was, it might do something for it.
"You've been involved in this as a speciality, you say?" he asked.
"Most of my working lifetime. In this country and in others. And with some very highly placed men I might add. Some of the names I could quote would surprise you, and some of what they had a taste for would stagger you." Mark looked impressed, though he wondered how much was true. He looked at his lover. Without saying a word, both began to feel they had nothing to lose by going along with this self styled expert.
Chantelle turned around and looked at Heather's lounge furniture. Her gaze fastened on an old fashioned, heavy wooden framed armchair. "This will do nicely. Mark, you may sit down." Her shiny, leather coated arms seized him by the torso, moved him to the seat and pushed him down into it. He submitted without a word. "Heather, bring that box over here. We're going to tie your partner to this antique piece."
Her black jacket creaked as she knelt behind the chair. She pulled Mark's arms around the sides and crossed them behind the chair back.
"Heather, get down here and tie his hands, firmly while I hold them."
Heather hesitated; she still had qualms about doing the bidding of this woman whom she found so mysterious. But she put the box of bondage ties on the floor, knelt beside Chantelle and began to tie her partner's wrists, tightly.
The two women bound Mark carefully and securely. His upper arms were tied to the side supports of the chair back. A thick sash secured his waist to the lower backrest. Then Chantelle directed her accomplice to tie his ankles to the lower parts of the splayed front legs while she lashed his knees to the front supports of the chair arms. This had the effect of spreading his legs wide apart. A procedure that seemed to worry him. "I take it you ladies know what you're doing?" he asked apprehensively.
Chantelle stood up, fondled his chin and brushed his cheek with her shiny black sleeve. "Let us worry about that darling," she murmured softly. "We just need you to be nicely tied up." As indeed Mark now was.
"Now before we go any further, there's something else we should do".
She took out two small grey plastic ear plugs and deftly inserted them in Mark's ears. "It's best you don't hear the following dialogue, darling," she admonished Mark, "It's ladies talk and also, it's time you were gagged." She took the gag she had so recently reconstructed and pushed it into his mouth. The recipient, had he been capable of speech, would have had to admit it was more comfortable and certainly just as effective.
"And from here we go to work." To her companion in bondage she said, "Heather my dear, you may unzip him." Heather looked at her then leaned forward and undid Mark's trousers zipper from top to bottom, exposing the stark white of his underpants. Chantelle then produced a small pair of scissors with which she cut away the front of his underwear, displaying his penis in all its glory. "You're going to need a new pair of u.p.'s out of this," she whispered softly.
At her instruction, she and Heather both knelt in front of the bound and gagged and totally helpless Mark. Gently she drew his member out to its full length and began to caress it softly. She began what she called a lesson of ins
A Specialist Lady · Part 1 (1/2)
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