Turnaround · Part 1

Turnaround · Part 1 (1/2)
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Beth had left the man bound and hooded, feeding him air through a narrow tube, for half an hour now. Glancing at the clock, she saw his session had overrun by five minutes, and expertly began to release him.

The strange thing about this client was he never wanted to climax during their sessions. As a result, Beth always felt a little disconcerted by the end. She tried to hide it, of course – it wouldn’t do for one of the most popular dominatrices in the club she worked for to be seen to be uncertain. But there it was again: as he stood up, rubbed his wrists and reached for his clothes, there was a moment of connection between them when he caught her eye and seemed to reach her soul.

‘Same time next week?’ said Beth, tidying up her equipment, shaking off the strange sensation.

‘Look forward to it,’ he replied, and took his leave.

Beth had been working at the club for a couple of years before she met him – Joe. She’d never thought she could ever make her living doing this kind of thing, but that was before the very forward-thinking proprietor of the club had hired her for more than she was making as a trainee solicitor. She hadn’t looked back since. She’d acquired a devoted following of clients, both male and female, and a write-up in several magazines – even a glossy Sunday supplement. She was famous for, and particularly proud of, her ropework, which she could use to suspend the most well-built men from the ceiling without harming them.

Thankfully, her boss allowed her to exercise a certain discrimination when it came to choosing her clients, and with people queuing up for her services, she’d been able to select only those she really wanted to work with – not the fat, sweaty businessmen in town for a conference, and not the women with self-esteem problems (those she referred to a psychiatrist).

Joe, when he’d walked into the club, had been exactly her kind of client. Tall, dark and handsome with a healthy wallet and brainpower to match. At the new client interview (no one was ever taken on without an interview – this was an up-market establishment), he’d proved he was witty, relatively sane, and altogether Beth’s idea of an ideal man. When he said he was looking for a dominatrix, she’d signed him up on the spot.

But, after six months of regular sessions, Beth really didn’t think she’d got to grips with him at all. It infuriated her that she couldn’t find the switches to flip him over into true submission, and it disconcerted her that he always looked as if he knew what she was thinking.

After Joe left each week, Beth had taken to booking sessions with a sweet young woman called Mary whose reactions

Beth could play like a fiddle. It gave a little boost to her professional pride. This week, as Mary squirmed on the floor, wrapped up in duct tape with a large enema bag emptying into her, Beth reckoned Mary had Joe to thank for getting such an energetic session out of her each week.

As promised, Joe returned the week after and greeted Beth casually. All of her other clients spoke nervously, or at least stood respectfully with their heads bowed. Joe slung his coat over a chair, gave her a cheery hello, and waited expectantly.

Suddenly angry, Beth determined that he was not going to enjoy this session. If he wasn’t here to have his limits pushed, then he could stop wasting her time.

She always wore her full leather catsuit whenever Joe was coming, together with her most pointy stiletto boots.

It gave her a sense of protection. Today, she also donned a pair of gloves and a half mask that she'd recently bought from a visit to Sax Leather, that covered the top of her face. Hair flowing, she picked up her whip and ordered him to strip.

He took off his clothes quickly, but before he could turn and look at her with that nonchalant expression again, Beth snapped a pair of handcuffs round his wrists, locking his arms behind him. She swiftly attached a rope to the chain between the cuffs, one that ran up to a pulley system on the ceiling, and pulled so that he had to bend over at 90 degrees, his arms pulled up painfully behind him. He brought his legs together to ease the pressure on his arms, and Beth secured them in place with a stiff leather strap.

He grunted, and Beth had the satisfaction of seeing him less than comfortable – she hoped mentally as well as physically. Feeling sadistic, she pushed a metal spreader gag between his teeth and opened it to its fullest extent. She swung two heavy clamps from his nipples, worked a fat butt plug into him with little mercy, and then snapped a tight rubber ring round the base of his erect cock, making it throb painfully. It wasn’t an elegant or subtle arrangement, but she’d had enough of trying to be elegant or subtle. He had it coming.

She pulled up a chair, sat down, and crossed her legs. Turning his head, he could see her pick up the newspaper, open it to the cryptic crossword, and began.

After ten minutes, she deigned to explain. ‘As you don’t seem capable of the proper respect for me, or value my work, I don’t think I can be bothered with you. You can stay there till your time is up.’

As the minutes ticked on, Beth waited for signs of distress. If she could break him, she’d release him and give him a little pleasurable teasing. He was, after all, paying for this. But no… he wasn’t struggling, or shouting to be released. Nor was he hanging loosely in defeat. He just stood there.

Angry with him and herself, Beth released him five minutes before the end of the session.

‘Why do you come here?’ she found herself asking, as he dressed and she sat on her chair, swinging her foot.

He gave her a cryptic smile. ‘You really want to know?’ he replied.

‘Yes, I do. I mean, you don’t seem to get anything out of it. You’re making me look bad.’ Beth removed her mask and looked him in the eye. She’d never talked so openly to a client before.

He shrugged. ‘OK, I’ll tell you, but I doubt you’ll understand. I come here because understanding girlfriends are few and far between, but paying a woman to submit to you is entirely pointless. See you next week.’ And he left.

What was that supposed to mean?

Confused, Beth sat silently for several minutes, trying to figure it out, but didn’t get very far. He was clearly going to keep coming to see her, toying with her professional pride. She supposed she’d have to let him go, or he would torment her forever.

The next week, Beth made a fatal mistake. She hesitated.

She really didn’t know what to do with Joe. Everything she tried didn’t work. She longed to see him kneel before her and worship her, but the longer he held out, the more her confidence was draining away – and into him.

She’d dressed as usual in her leather catsuit, which zipped up the front. She’d let her dark hair flow loose, but left off the mask. In the minimalist, bright room where she plied her trade, she reached for Joe’s wrist to cuff it and hesitated for a fraction of a second.

Joe caught her eye and moved his hand, capturing hers. He held her gently, but the power shift was enormous. How dare a client of hers have the temerity to touch her? But Beth didn’t react. She froze. Slowly, he took the handcuffs from her grasp, and moved away.

Trembling inside, Beth stood still and glared as she felt the sands of power shifting beneath her. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she half whispered, half shouted. Standing a few feet away from her, Joe ran the metal bracelets through his fingers.

‘An experiment,’ he replied, keeping calmly amused eyes on hers. In two strides, he was beside her, but she held her ground.

‘Put those down,’ she ordered, but she knew she’d lost him. A chill settled in her stomach.

She could leave any time. The door was easily reachable. There was also a panic button just feet away from her. But she didn’t move as he locked the first cuff round her left wrist. She watched dumbly, as if seeing the action from afar, and shivered. The cold metal seared her skin and her psyche.

Standing in front of her, so close she could smell him, he reached his arms behind her back and brought her own arms together, locking her right wrist into the second cuff. These were her own handcuffs, designed to withstand any attempts at escape. The only key hung on a hook on the far side of the room.

Swallowing hard, Beth raised her eyes and looked up at his face. Even in heels, she stood several inches shorter than him. He had an unreadable expression on his face –the kind of expression she’d always tried to cultivate.

‘What does it feel like?’ he whispered, his breath brushing her face. Silently, Beth tested the cuffs and found herself, for only the second time in her life, securely chained.

‘Let me go,’ she murmured.

Joe slowly shook his head, then bent down and kissed her.

Beth didn’t react – didn’t respond, didn’t pull away. He kissed her motionless lips for several seconds, then raised his head again.

Beth couldn’t take his gaze any more. Head swimming from the kiss, she did what she had never done in her life: she looked away. Lowering her head, she murmured again, ‘Let me go.’

Her voice had a low insistence, but one that Joe overrode.

In her line of vision she could see

Joe’s hand move to her chest. With one finger in the zip of her catsuit, he lowered the zip tooth by tooth till her breasts were exposed, continuing till it passed her navel and ended right between her legs.

Heart racing, Beth gasped and even felt dizzy as he tore away her defences, metal tooth by metal tooth. She saw her pale skin exposed inch by inch, her breasts swelling naked from the confines of the suit, nipples engorged; her waist; her navel; the tip of the dark patch of trimmed hair between her legs. Hands bunched into fists, wrists straining against the cuffs that held her, she could only watch.

Joe kissed her again, and this time she gave a slight moan, responding infinitesimally, unconsciously. As he kissed her, he slipped a finger into her catsuit and found her clitoris which, she discovered, was fat and soaking wet. Circling it oh so gently, softly kissing her lips, in a couple of minutes Joe brought Beth to a quick, urgent orgasm. Crying out quietly into the kiss, Beth leaned into him as she came.

He’d unlocked the cuffs before she realised it, and was half way towards the door before she’d zipped up the catsuit and turned to him.

‘Same time next week?’ he said, and waved goodbye.

Beth sat down heavily on the floor, and put her head in her hands.

Beth’s boss, Jack, had only one rule. It was that all his staff had to experience what it was like to be on the receiving end, at least once, before he let them loose on the clients.

When she’d first joined, she’d sneered at this strange piece of psychology, and went confidently into the playroom with Jack to be bound for the first time in her life. She didn’t think there was any point to it.

What a lot she’d learned.

Jack had first stripped her of her smart clothes, and dressed her in a purple sequinned bra and knicker set that had seen better days. Then he’d painted her face in gaudy colours, pushed her feet into stilettos, and led her by the hand into a second room. As she’d caught sight of herself in the mirror, her self-image came crashing down, and she followed him slightly more nervously than before.

He’d made her play at being a seedy sex club hostess, one that probably earned no more than a few Eastern European units of currency a week. In her shabby finery, she was made to serve him drinks, while he groped her freely. Anger swelled up inside her, but she bit her tongue as she knew she had to get through this test to be employed by him as a dominatrix.

Then he bound her hands behind her, and tied her ankles together as well. She flinched at the unknown sensation of the knots tightening, feeling as if she was teetering on the brink of a precipice. He pushed her to her knees and she fell vertiginously down, struggling without much effort as he very loosely hogtied her, a long length of rope between her wrists and ankles enabling her to kneel upright. Then he presented his cock to her mouth.

If she’d had the use of her hands, she would have walked out then and there. But the sensation of being bound for the first time, combined with the imaginative trip he’d taken her on, mixed potently in her mind and in a haze, she’d complied. Feeling his cock at the back of her throat made her feel good. When he pulled away before she could finish him off, she’d felt desolate.

He bent her over till she was curled up over her knees, head down, and placed a drink on her back. Then, drawing up a chair next to her, he read the paper as he casually slid his finger in and out of her pussy from behind, pushing aside the gaudy purple thong. Before long, she was humming with preorgasmic fire, her mind somewhere deep in his world.

Of course, he stopped before she could come, and as he moved to leave Beth rolled over onto her side, still caught in her loose hogtie and unable to sit upright.

She didn’t recognise the words as hers, but she knew they came from deep within her.

‘Don’t leave,’ she cried out plaintively, and she knew at that moment he’d hooked her.

Jack paused in his journey to the door, and turned around.

‘You’re hired,’ he said with a grin, then got down on the floor beside her and fucked her till she could come no more.

The next time Joe walked into her playroom, Beth was ready for him. She’d spent all week asserting herself on her other clients (receiving a fair few large tips in the process). Now, dressed in a silk shirt and black skirt – the catsuit reminded her of too much – she greeted him with a flash of teeth and was gratified to see him look surprised.

As he stepped into the room, she pushed the door closed and went straight for his legs. She’d been a willing pupil at the club’s free judo lessons for its staff, just in case the worst happened during a session, and now she gladly put the lessons into action.

Knocking his feet from under him, with the momentum of surprise she was soon sitting astride him, as he lay face down, two arms twisted behind his back, her knees digging into the backs of his.

‘That,’ she whispered in his ear, ‘was for last week.’

Breathing hard, she held him for a moment till she felt his muscles relax, and then began to think about loosening her grip and backing away. It was enough. He sensed her intention, and before she even knew what was happening he’d flipped her from his back and was rolling on top of her as she fought him with flailing limbs, all judo moves out of the window.

He was much stronger than her, and by the time he had her on her back, hands and legs spread out and securely pinned, she knew she was lost. ‘Bastard,’ she cursed through gritted teeth, but he only smiled. He bent his head towards her and she jerked away from him, but he persisted and shortly, though she knew she didn’t want to, she found herself kissing him deeply.

After that, there wasn’t much argument. She struggled desultorily, but he confined her easily. Stripping her of her shirt and skirt and discovering she wore nothing underneath, he then reached for a rope and began to bind her hands behind her back. Round and round he wound it, like a pro, till Beth knew there would be no escape forthcoming. He repeated the process at her elbows, drawing them closer and closer together as Beth complained. Eventually, they touched, and Beth gasped at the sensation.

Busy trying to come to terms with her bonds, Beth only vaguely registered the ropes winding round her legs till she realised she was bound securely at ankle and knee. ‘Let me go,’ she whispered into the floor, but he chose not to hear. Instead, he hogtied her quite tightly, and stood back to admire his work.

His dominatrix lay at his feet, naked, roped by his own hand. Her hair fell in dark waves over the floor, and her skin shivered as her muscles tested their bonds.

‘Intoxicating, isn’t it?’ he asked in a gentle tone. Beth tensed.

‘I’ll have you banned from the club,’ she replied, trying to make her voice hard.

Joe knelt beside her again, rolling her onto her side so he could see her face. She glowered at him to hide the arousal she knew shone in her eyes.

‘I think you’d find this easier if you were gagged,’ he said calmly. ‘Then you can just relax and go with the flow.’

‘No way,’ gulped Beth, suddenly scared on a whole new level. But Joe was adamant. He held the red rubber ball in front of her mouth, holding her gaze, till, with an enormous upheaval inside, she opened her mouth and let him gag her. He buckled it tightly behind her head.

Breathing fast through her nose, Beth closed her eyes and tried to ignore the sensations pounding her from every angle. Helpless in front of her own client, speechless, she felt him slip a finger between her legs and feel the wetness inside her. As she opened her eyes and gave him a look of tortured delight, he grinned triumphantly.

‘This is the pure reaction you always wanted me to have, isn’t it?’ he asked. ‘Physically and mentally.’

Beth screwed her eyes shut again, refusing to recognise what she could now see in herself.

Joe found two fat cushions and placed them on the floor beside Beth, lifting her onto them so she lay on her back, pressing her bound limbs beneath her. He sat beside her, caressing her breasts, stroking her stomach, as she lay hazily, silently, fearfully. No surrender. She wouldn’t… she couldn’t submit to him. It was all wrong. She was the dominatrix, and here she was bound helplessly in her own playroom, her client pinching her nipples freely and flipping her mind over and over. Her body, traitor that it was, was on fire with arousal, melding with the ropes that held her captive, yearning for Joe to come inside her.

Her mind flashed back to her first experience at the hands of Jack, who was so good, so seductive, so dominant… perhaps, after all, we’re all dominant to those less so than ourselves. But then, when we meet someone more expert than we are, we succumb…

Beth opened her eyes and saw Joe kneeling in front of her, holding a plastic object. She moaned into her gag as he pushed it between her legs and deep into her, turning on the vibration as he did so. Then he kissed her, before rolling her back onto her front and allowing her arms and legs to revive. He put the cushions away.

It was time for their session to end.

Bending down to kiss her hot forehead, Joe whispered goodbye, and left the room.

Turnaround · Part 1 (1/2)
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