Agony Aunt (9 page)

When the storm passed, Rachel’s face was damp with sweat. Her hair clung to her forehead and her eyes were closed. Harriet could see her panting as she caught her breath. She shuddered several times – maybe small climaxes after the greater ones; maybe simply muscular spasms. Finally she lay still.

Rachel’s next act was to roll herself over on to her side again. Apparently that was a more comfortable position in which to recover her poise and her breath. Her back was to Harriet now, but that didn’t matter. Rachel had clearly enjoyed her first bondage session, and could safely be left to her own devices for a while. Given enough time, she would probably repeat the earlier performance. It would be interesting to question Rachel later to see how well she had managed. Harriet went quietly downstairs. This time she actually left the house, locking the place up carefully as was her wont. Dominatrixes, she told herself, had to be security conscious. And she was required elsewhere.

Harriet was a bit late for her luncheon appointment, but that would only help keep Victoria on edge – a useful position in her case as well. ‘You can set your clock by Harriet,’ one of her regulars had said. Well, this time the clocks would be slow, but Harriet thought it had been worth the delay.

Victoria, with whom she was having lunch, was currently going through one of her ‘I’m too fat’ phases, though she was not a victim of what had recently been called the ‘Barbie doll disease’. She used the phrase to signal that she was in the mood for some minor deprivation combined with erotic bondage. Usually her husband Bill dealt with her. At other times she – or he – called Harriet in. That usually occurred when Bill was away on business, or when Victoria was in the mood for lesbian sex, also supplied by Harriet when needed. ‘You’re the spice of my sex life,’ she often said when Harriet called on her.

Victoria was already seated when Harriet arrived at the restaurant. She didn’t look like a woman in need of a diet. She never did. It was just that time of the month for her when she needed to be tied up and dictated to. She had chosen a corner table where they wouldn’t easily be overheard as they spoke of what she and Harriet would do with the rest of the afternoon. Victoria liked to talk herself through what Harriet would do to her. She liked the excitement of ‘talking dirty’, as she called it derisively. The more public the place the better. Victoria said it improved her self-control to try not to let her arousal show to those about them. She had been known to squirm on her chair as they went through the schedule in advance, and Harriet tried to make it more fun by eliciting suggestions from Victoria as well, though she never let the other woman think that she was in charge. They both wanted Harriet to be in command.

Victoria was drinking white wine, and there was a nearly full bottle on the table. The two women greeted each other and Harriet sat down. Victoria asked her what she wanted to drink and signalled to the waiter.

‘I’ll have what you’re having,’ Harriet said. The waiter brought a glass for her and Victoria poured the wine. As she moved to refill her own glass Harriet abruptly held her hand over the top of it. Victoria looked up in surprise. ‘Might as well get this afternoon started on the right foot. I’ll tell you what you can eat or drink, and you’ll do whatever I say. Understood?’ She accompanied this order with her most severe look.

Victoria sighed and nodded, not wholly with regret. She liked Harriet to be firm with her whenever they met. Bill did the same for her at other times. As she often said, a girl really needs to be treated strictly.

‘Have the waiter bring the menu now,’ Harriet ordered. When it came they studied it in silence. Harriet decided on a large tossed salad for both of them, and signalled the waiter to take their order. Victoria was still studying her menu, and looked up in surprise when Harriet told the waiter what they would be having.

‘I’d like –’ she started, then stopped abruptly and looked flustered when she felt the touch of Harriet’s foot beneath the table. The waiter was looking expectantly at her. Haltingly she said, ‘That’s all right. The salad . . .’ Her face was slightly red with embarrassment, and the waiter gave them both a queer look as he took the order.

Harriet paid no attention to him. Looking at Victoria, she said, ‘Now tell me exactly what you’re wearing underneath that nice tweed suit.’ The waiter gave them an even queerer look. He looked as if he would like to stay and listen to the conversation, but Harriet waved him away. ‘Begin now,’ she told Victoria, even before he was out of earshot.

Victoria reddened and said, ‘The usual . . .’

‘No, you’re not,’ Harriet contradicted her. ‘If you were dressed normally you and I wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation about sex in the afternoon.’ Harriet emphasised the word slightly, and her voice carried. The waiter looked back as he heard the magic word, but there was no excuse to return to the table in the hope of hearing more.

Victoria became even redder of face, hesitating until the waiter was further away. In a low voice she began, ‘I’m . . . that is, Bill gave me a new leather bra last week. It’s not . . . not an . . . ordinary one. There are little prickers sewn into the cups around the nipple area. They prick me whenever my nipples get erect.’ Victoria drew a sharp breath.

‘Like now?’ Harriet interjected dryly. She was well aware of Victoria’s propensity to become excited as she was made to reveal these details. The trick was to act as if they were being dragged out of her under interrogation and the threat of pain. ‘Go on,’ she ordered the other woman.

‘It’s rather tight, so I know it’s there even when I’m not . . . erect.’ The last word came almost as a gasp.

Harriet judged that Victoria was erect just then, or close to it. ‘Go on,’ she repeated. There had to be more. Victoria did not dress as most women did. She liked to feel her clothing touching her erogenous zones, exciting her subtly and secretly even when she merely went out for a walk or to the shops.

‘I don’t have any pants on,’ Victoria said, perhaps hoping that this revelation would satisfy her inquisitor.

Harriet nodded. ‘I’d hardly expect you to be wearing any. You’ve been told often enough about that.’ She waited expectantly for Victoria to continue.

Reluctantly, Victoria continued her recitation. ‘The usual – stockings and suspenders. Just as you require.’

‘Is that all? Nothing more exotic? Nothing inside you to make the afternoon more interesting? Surely you could think of something, couldn’t you? Didn’t Bill have any suggestions?’

‘Well, he bought me a leather waist belt with a thong that goes between my legs. He called it a saddle strap. When he makes me wear it, he pulls the thong really tight, so it’s uncomfortable to sit. I thought of wearing that, but as I knew we’d be sitting down to eat –’

‘You didn’t think you could stand that discomfort? And you, a card-carrying masochist? Whatever is the world coming to when you avoid a bit of sexual arousal because of a little pain?’ Harriet didn’t pause for Victoria’s reply to these rhetorical questions. ‘Well, there’s nothing to be done now, unless the waiter can think of something. Shall I call him back?’ She watched Victoria’s expression as she made the suggestion.

‘Harriet! Don’t say anything to him. Please! I’d die of embarrassment.’

‘Nonsense. No one ever died of embarrassment. They just wish they could.’ She half-turned in her chair as if searching for the waiter.

Victoria, looking thoroughly alarmed by now, tried to make herself invisible. She slid down in her chair and averted her face from the rest of the diners.

‘Sit up straight, Vicky,’ Harriet ordered her calmly. ‘Posture is important. And lift your skirt up so your bare bottom is on the seat of the chair. Didn’t they teach you anything at that expensive girls’ school you attended?’

Victoria sat up and began to raise her skirt an inch at a time, still trying to be invisible, or at least unobserved. It wasn’t good enough for Harriet. She raised her voice and repeated the order, this time with an edge of asperity. The other diners may not have heard everything she said, but some of them were looking at the two women who seemed to be having some sort of disagreement. Victoria was doing a creditable imitation of a beetroot and making ineffectual shushing motions with one hand while she used the other to raise her skirt behind her.

‘Shall I come around and do it for you?’ Harriet asked menacingly.

‘No, no, please! I can manage. It’s just that . . . oh God, here comes the waiter.’ There was an edge of panic in Victoria’s voice now, and she scrabbled frantically with her skirt.

Then the waiter was hovering nearby with their salads. There was an interested expression on his face.

Harriet turned to him. ‘Could you bring us a fresh cucumber, please? My friend fancies one with her salad, don’t you, Victoria?’

Scarlet faced, Victoria made a strangled noise and bowed her head.

The waiter set the food before them and left with a promise to be right back. As soon as he was out of earshot, Victoria said urgently, ‘Harriet, stop this. What are you trying to do to me? I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life!’

‘You’re not embarrassed, Vicky. You love the humiliation and the attention. But if it helps, you can think of it as foreplay, something to get you ready for what comes later on.’

‘Don’t say anything more to him, please!’

‘I won’t,’ Harriet promised with suspicious ease. ‘You will do the talking when he comes back. I want you to describe to him what you are wearing under your clothes. I want to see his face when he hears your tale. I’ll make it easier for you by beginning the conversation.’ Harriet spoke as if she were doing her companion a great favour.

‘Harriet! Please, no!’

‘Oh, do be quiet. Enjoy the drama. You know you love this.’

Victoria continued to protest, but Harriet noticed the quickened tempo of her breathing and her involuntary squirming on the chair. Things were working up nicely.

The waiter arrived with a whole cucumber on a tray. Thoughtfully, he had brought along a knife in case these two strange women wanted to slice it themselves.

Victoria was making little negative motions with her head, but Harriet paid her no attention. To the waiter she said, ‘Thank you. That will do nicely. Just set it down there by my friend’s plate. If you have a moment, she wants to tell you something.’

‘Madam,’ said the waiter with a little bow to Victoria.

Victoria appeared to have lost the power of speech. Harriet had to prompt her. ‘Tell him what you’re wearing underneath, Vicky. I’m sure he’d be interested.’ When Victoria still remained silent, Harriet sharpened her tone. ‘Victoria. Do as I say. This handsome young man hasn’t got all day, and neither have we.’

The ‘handsome young man’ looked both embarrassed and bemused, but he was clearly interested as well. It showed in his expression. As Victoria haltingly began to describe her underwear, Harriet could see further evidence of his interest somewhat lower down. He tried to shield himself with the little towel he carried, but Harriet wasn’t having that. Victoria was reluctantly describing her leather bra when Harriet broke in.

‘I think he likes you, Vicky. Look there,’ Harriet said, pointing to the bulge in his trousers. ‘You’ve got his attention.’ She reached out and patted his trousers. ‘Yes, he definitely likes you. Feel for yourself.’

The waiter made a strangled sound that may have been ‘Madam!’ He was clearly out of his depth.

When Victoria made no move to touch the erection at her elbow, Harriet put her hand out and stroked the front of his trousers. Victoria came to the end of her description. Her face was averted and she was blushing again, but the signs of excitement were there as well. In the silence that fell after the recital, Harriet could see that he had no idea how to respond to this situation. Men, she thought, are even more prudish than women sometimes. Or maybe he just didn’t know how to handle a situation in which the woman took the lead. Clearly he was not one of the new men one heard about so often, though he did show promise in several more traditional ways. Most important, he showed no signs of bolting. But then maybe he just didn’t want to show the rest of the diners what he had in his trousers.

Harriet took up the tale when it was clear that Victoria wasn’t going to say any more without the application of thumb screws. ‘She will use the cucumber you’ve brought us in a rather unusual way while we eat. She’ll shove it up her tush and try to maintain an attitude of calm and decorum while she eats with one hand and uses the other to play with herself under the table. The trick is to bring herself to climax without letting the whole world know about it. This is not a Harry and Sally occasion.’

As she spoke Harriet felt a responsive shudder from the cock she was fondling. ‘I can see you’re interested, so I thought you’d like to know the rest of the plan.’

The waiter made another indistinct sound.

‘Afterwards my friend is coming home with me for a few days. She wants to be tied up and subjected to erotic play. She’s into that sort of thing and even now is thinking about what will happen to her in the next few hours. It’s a pity you’re occupied. You might like to watch. Or even join in.’ When he still said nothing, Harriet said teasingly, ‘Cat got your tongue?’

‘No,’ he managed to gasp out, ‘a lady’s got my cock.’

‘Well, I hope you find that more pleasant than the other alternative,’ Harriet said. She was pleased that he had been able to come out with even that feeble witticism while under extreme duress. ‘Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.’

The waiter shook his head. ‘I manage my own restaurant in Chelsea. I’m just filling in here while my sister is on holiday. This is her place.’ It was obviously an effort to make ordinary conversation in these bizarre circumstances, but he tried, and Harriet admired that. Speaking to Victoria, he asked her what it felt like to wear such a peculiar bra.