A Talent for Surrender (28 page)

‘I suppose you want to come now.’

‘I wouldn’t say no . . .’

Jo bent her head and took his cock in her mouth. Dan gasped. Her mouth was hot and wet and soft. She wrapped her hand around the base and began to bob her head. Her eyes were half closed and she seemed totally lost in the moment. Tension throbbed in his gut.

He relaxed back against the edge of the sofa and closed his eyes. His cock felt tight and pumped with blood. Jo ran the tip of her tongue around the underside of his helmet and he gasped.

He began to slowly pump his hips, establishing a rhythm which Jo matched. Her face bumped up against his pubic bone on each thrust and he felt her hot breath on his skin.

His arse was still tingling and slippery. Every so often it seemed to throb in rhythm with Jo’s moving mouth. He reached down and cupped the back of her head with his hand. He rocked his hips, pulling her onto his cock.

His balls ached. He was tingling all over. He kicked off his shoes and dug his heels into the carpet.

Jo’s long hair covered his lap. She sucked hard on his cock and a jolt of electric pleasure shot up his spine. His hips pistoned. Every so often she made little excited grunting noises as she sucked. Her head bobbed.

Dan’s thighs began to quiver. He arched his back. He moaned out loud. The dam burst. His cock throbbed as he shot into her mouth and he could feel Jo swallowing. She kept her mouth clamped around his pumping cock.

Pleasure throbbed through him. He was trembling all over. His hand was pressed against the back of Jo’s head as he came in her mouth. She swallowed it all down eagerly, sucking it out of him.

They stayed like that long after it had finished. Jo lapped up every trace of come as his cock softened in her mouth and his muscles slowly relaxed.

‘Thanks for letting me come at last.’ He stroked her hair. ‘It was certainly worth waiting for.’

Jo looked up at him and laughed. ‘I think you need a shower, your make-up’s ruined.’ She reached up and pulled off his wig. Dan scratched his scalp. ‘Come on, let’s hit the shower.’

In the bathroom Jo turned on the shower and stepped into the cubicle. Dan climbed in beside her. He washed his face under the running water.

‘That’s better. Now . . . kneel down.’ Jo laid a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down.

Dan slid to his knees and looked up at her. The water made her body gleam. Her nipples were erect, dark and prominent. Water droplets clung to her blonde pubes like beads. She reached down with both hands and spread her lips. Dan sighed as the dark interior of her pussy came into view, glittering, rosy and moist.

‘Wait . . .’ Jo’s voice sounded urgent and excited. All Dan’s attention was focused on her exposed cunt. She seemed to be holding her breath. ‘Here it comes . . .’

Dan gasped as a stream of hot piss hit him in the chest. He could smell the familiar urine tang. As it splashed onto his body it felt warm and surprisingly soothing. He looked up at Jo’s face. She made a tiny nod of her head and he instantly understood. He opened his mouth and lowered his face and swallowed down several mouthfuls. It tasted salty, but not unpleasant.

He felt tingly and alive. His cock was rigid. The stream began to weaken and Dan leaned forwards and fastened his mouth directly over her cunt. He lapped and sucked at her clit as the hot urine dribbled into his mouth.

The following Monday, Dan and the crew went to Hellfire 2000’s monthly gathering. This time the venue was Christina the transsexual’s house. While Dave was setting up the lights, Dan and the club members drank coffee in the kitchen. Christina bustled about, handing out home-made biscuits, the perfect hostess. She’d even put on a frilly pinny for the occasion.

Dan wondered why transsexuals and TVs always seemed to opt for such stereotypes of femininity; few women who’d been born that way bothered to wear aprons these days.

But maybe, he reflected as he watched her taking a fresh batch of cookies out of the oven, he could understand it a little now that he’d tried it himself with Jo. When he put on a dress he wanted to be the best woman he could be – for Jo.

‘Is that a collar you’re wearing?’ Jim reached out a finger and touched Dan’s silver chain. ‘Don’t tell me someone’s nabbed you at last. Maybe it’s engraved, let me look . . .’

Dan reached up and covered the engraved padlock with his hand. ‘It’s nothing. Just jewellery. I saw it in a shop and liked the look of it.’

Madame Cyn leaned across the table. ‘Come off it, Dan. A straight-laced public schoolboy like you doesn’t suddenly start wearing a dog collar. You’re not Johnny Rotten.’

‘Someone’s obviously given it to you. Whose little doggy are you, Dan?’ Nick raised both his hands in front of him in imitation of a begging dog.

‘Oh, leave the poor boy alone.’ Christina put a plate of biscuits down on the table. ‘If he doesn’t want to tell us then that’s his right.’ She sat down beside Dan. ‘Though I reckon we’ve all got a pretty good idea who it is . . .’

‘What do you mean?’ Dan tried to sound dignified.

‘It’s Jo, isn’t it? Come on, you can tell us.’ Christina knelt down in front of Dan. She carefully turned over his padlock and read the inscription. ‘It says, “This dog belongs to Jo Lennox.” Well, now . . . aren’t you a lucky dog?’

Fifteen

The next weekend Jo dressed them up in identical leather retro dresses with nipped-in waists and shoulder pads. Underneath they both wore waspie corsets, long-line bras and silk French knickers. Jo had applied heavy red lipstick and pinned back the front of her hair in a style which reminded Dan of his grandmother’s wartime wedding photos. Dan wore a wig in the same style and Jo did his make-up to match hers.

‘What do you think?’ Jo stood beside Dan, looking in the full-length mirror.

Dan was tingling all over. His cock twitched inside his gaff. ‘If there were three of us we could be a kinky version of the Andrews Sisters. Are you going to tell me where we’re going, now?’

‘To a play party at a friend’s house. It’s public yet private – a safe way to explore public surrender.’

‘I’m looking forward to it . . .’ Dan frowned. ‘Do you think anyone from Hellfire 2000 is likely to be there?’

Jo fiddled with his wig. ‘Possibly. Cold feet? I thought you’d already “come out” to them.’

‘I have . . . no . . . not cold feet. I’m proud to be your sub. It just makes me feel . . . I don’t know . . . vulnerable.’

Jo kissed him carefully, so as not to spoil their lipstick. ‘You feel vulnerable because there’s nowhere for you to hide. You’ve taken off your mask. It’s a good thing, believe me. It means anything can happen and – when it does – you’re open to it . . . experiencing everything life has to offer. Doesn’t that sound inviting?’

Dan smiled. ‘What are we waiting for?’

The party was in a tree-lined avenue in Ealing. Jo stopped the car outside a large mock-Tudor detached house. On the doorstep Jo took a slender leather dog lead out of her handbag and attached it to Dan’s collar. Icy fingers trailed up his nape and over his scalp. She tugged on the leash, pulling his face towards hers. She kissed him softly on the lips.

‘Ready?’ Jo smiled up at him.

Dan nodded. She rang the bell. After a few moments it was answered by a petite blonde woman in a body-hugging rubber suit and a Catwoman mask. The zip on her bodysuit was undone almost to her waist and Dan couldn’t help noticing her spectacular gravity-defying breasts.

‘Jo. Glad you could come.’ The two women kissed.

‘Dan, this is Sally. Sally, this is Dan Elliot.’

‘My . . . isn’t he tall?’ Sally gazed up at him. She extended her gloved hand and Dan shook it. ‘Come on in.’

As Dan sat beside Jo on the sofa he could feel the gentle tug of his lead. He looked around. It was an ordinary suburban living room, decorated in modern minimalist style in shades of chocolate and cream. It was tasteful and understated and might even have seemed bland if it wasn’t for the motley collection of occupants.

Everyone had dressed up for the occasion in rubber or leather. Some people wore only lingerie and several were nude or nearly nude. Sally was sitting in an armchair by the window with three naked collared male slaves kneeling at her feet. All of them bore the marks of recent whippings and Dan felt a slow cold shiver slide up his spine.

Jo tugged on his lead and he turned to look at her. ‘Are you looking at Sally’s boys?’

‘Yes.’ Dan looked over at the slaves and noticed that they weren’t completely naked. Each of them was wearing plastic cage like devices over their genitals. ‘I was looking at the bruises on their arses and imagining what it must feel like to have everyone know that someone else has the right to beat you.’ Dan was conscious of his cock expanding inside his restrictive underwear.

‘And how does it make them feel, do you suppose?’

‘That’s the funny thing. I think it must be a huge turn-on but at the same time it’s got to be enormously shameful – only the shame’s part of the pleasure.’

Jo had begun to smile. ‘An interesting theory. Why don’t we put it to the test?’ Without waiting for an answer she got up and began to walk over to Sally. Dan leapt to his feet and followed at the end of his taut lead. ‘Dan was admiring your boys’ stripes, Sal, and you know what subs are like . . . I think he’d like me to show you his.’

Dan’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and exhilaration.

Sally laughed. ‘They’re all exhibitionists under the skin, aren’t they? Come on, Dan. Let us have a look at Jo’s handiwork.’

‘Lift up your skirt please, Dan. Up to your waist.’

Dan could hear the challenge and tenderness in Jo’s voice. His scalp prickled. He pulled up his skirt, bunching it up around his waist, displaying himself.

The room was silent. He felt dozens of eyes on his exposed body. He knew that, even through his stockings, they would be able to see the latticework of red slashes and dark bruises on the front and back of his thighs. His crotch ached.

‘Pull down your knickers so that we can get a proper look.’ Jo let go of his lead.

He slid his French knickers down to his ankles. Though his gaff covered his crotch, he had never felt more naked. He could hardly breathe.

‘Now turn round and bend over.’

Dan instantly obeyed, bending over and resting his hands on his shins. He’d never felt so alive. He was absolutely ashamed yet at the same time his heart burst with pride and satisfaction. He was Jo’s slave. She had marked his body and everyone knew it. Endorphins exploded around his body. His legs trembled.

Jo ordered him to pull up his knickers. They went through to the buffet in the kitchen and loaded their plates with food.

‘What are those things Sally’s subs were wearing?’

‘They’re called CB2000s – they’re a kind of chastity device.’ Jo smiled. ‘You look horrified. Don’t you like the idea?’

‘I like the theory. The idea that you’re in charge of my body so completely that you can deny me access to my own cock is very appealing. And you’re already in control of whether or not I can come anyway. But actually locking it away . . . it seems a bit cruel.’

Jo tugged on his lead and led him through the crowd. ‘But you like it when I’m cruel . . . There’s someone over there trying to attract your attention.’ Jo pointed across the room.

Dan looked up and saw Master Nick and Madame Cyn waving at him. Dan moved to approach them but his leash held him back. He shrugged in apology and waited for Jo to lead him across the room.

‘Don’t you look lovely, Dan? I hardly recognised you.’ Cyn looked him up and down.

‘Thanks.’ Dan couldn’t help feeling pleased by the compliment even though his cheeks were burning with embarrassment. ‘I’m rather growing to like it, actually.’

Nick laughed. ‘You’ve reminded me of something the body piercer said to me when I got my Prince Albert: “One more of us, one less of them” . . . you’re one of us now, Dan.’

After they’d eaten they went upstairs to a room Sally referred to as “the dungeon” even though it was situated in the loft. The room was painted black and dimly lit. There was a huge metal rack on one wall from which hung a frightening array of whips and other implements of torture. Dan’s heart raced.

In the middle of the room stood a whipping bench. Beside it there was a suspension rig, with a leather hammock affair and other hanging straps for legs and feet.

A naked woman was lying in the hammock, her wrists suspended above her head and her legs spread by two leather straps under her knees. She was being fisted by a shaven-headed man in motorcycle boots and a leather kilt. The front of his kilt was tented by his erection and his greased arm shone in the light. She lay there with her eyes closed as if in a trance. As they walked behind the hammock Dan realised that the man was fisting her in the arse.

Dan’s armpits prickled with sweat. The gaff held his stiffening erection in its elastic grip.

At the opposite end of the room there was a man in stockings, suspenders, high heels and nothing else tied to a St Andrew’s cross. Beside him, a woman dressed in a long leather skirt with a thigh-revealing slit up the front and corset stood holding a multi-tailed whip. She was whisking it in circles, barely brushing his skin. Nevertheless, his body was rigid with tension and excitement and he had the beginnings of an erection.

Dan imagined himself in the man’s place, his body trembling and his cock erect as he waited for the lash.

The woman had long red hair that reached almost to her waist. She wore the heavy black make-up of the Goth and bore a complicated tattoo on her upper arm and shoulder. As she raised her arm to wield the whip Dan noticed that there was a big dildo sticking out through the slit at the front of her skirt. Purple and as thick as her wrist, it pointed upwards in an exaggerated arc in parody of an erection.

‘I’m glad yours isn’t as big as that,’ he whispered to Jo.