The Red Collection (7 page)

‘So, my dear, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?’ he says at length, when they disengage and, as he walks forwards into the room, I see that the look of wry, mocking amusement on his face matches the tone in his voice.

It’s the big man from the ‘do’, of course. The one who watched us both so assiduously and made me feel so freaked. He’s very tall, and a bit heavy set, and has a vague look of a younger Orson Welles before he went to fat. That, and a character I might have seen on the telly recently, but I don’t know what in.

I’m fighting the reflex to shake violently, and I don’t know what’s the most mortifying to me – my nakedness and my erection, or the fact that my own voice is still issuing interminably from the sound system. I’d give anything if one of them would turn the fucking thing off.

I can, I think, take anything sexual that this pair choose to dish out to me, but I wish to God that all trace of J-Boy Jones and the Forever Boys could be wiped off the face of the earth now and forever …

‘This is Jason, darling,’ declares Maria, her voice arch and her face beautiful in quiet triumph. ‘The one I told you about. Don’t you recognise him from the magazines? He’s changed a little, of course, but when it comes down to it, it’s easy to see who he is.’

Robert subjects me to a long, considered scrutiny, his dark gaze returning again and again to my cock.

Hell, this guy is most definitely bisexual. There’s hunger in that slow, sly look of his. I find myself glancing towards Maria, wondering what her reaction to this is, and I find her grinning with delight and high approval.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. I thought I was worldly and experienced, living large on booze and drugs and faux celebrity. But I know nothing. Nothing at all. Not a thing.

Suddenly Robert frowns. ‘Do we have to listen to this?’ He cocks his large head, grimacing.

‘I don’t know. Do we?’ Maria sidles towards me, touches first my face and then my cock, and I nearly come. Dragging in air, fighting for control, I shake my head.

Her companion moves to a small console beside the bed and depresses a button, once, twice, three times, cycling through a couple of radio stations until a very different kind of music issues from the hidden speakers.

The delicate melody of what sounds like a piano trio fills the room, stately and elegant and a balm to my overheated soul.

‘Excellent,’ proclaims Robert roundly, smile widening. ‘Mozart … a well-known fetishist in his day. Couldn’t be more appropriate, could it, my love?’ He strides across the room, a looming imposing presence, and suddenly they’re both deep in my personal space and owning it completely.

I clench every muscle, every sinew, anticipating his touch as well as Maria’s.

But it doesn’t come. He gently fondles Maria’s breast as she pinches the tip of my cock, expertly containing my hair-trigger urge to shoot my load all over her beautiful black dress.

The couple exchange a look while the fondling and handling continues. A glance that’s quick, yet deep and full of transferred intelligence. A decision’s just been made, I realise, and whatever my wishes are simply doesn’t factor into the equation.

I should be horrified. I should be scared. And yet a sense of tightness, almost of calm settles over me. Everything is exactly as it should be, just like the rippling, swooping phrases of the piano and the strings, every note perfect, precise and virtuouso.

‘Shall we begin, my love?’ says Maria at length, sounding pleased with herself. She’s loving this, but there’s no malice in her, I realise. Her happiness is purely from the anticipation of pleasure and entertainment.

‘Why not?’ concurs Robert, and for just a second his hand curves around hers, cradling my cock.

The touch of a man’s hand on my flesh makes my head go light, and something inside me soars and lifts like the rising, dancing notes around us.

But just as I’m accepting and enjoying it, the touch is gone and they both whirl away as if dancing a secret tango. Robert crosses to the dressing table and picks up a small remote, and Maria opens a drawer in a tallboy at the other side of the room, and starts removing a selection of objects. My eyes bug at the sight of them, and then bulge even more when Robert presses a button on the remote, and a whirring and a light tinkling and jingling sound overlays Mozart’s exquisite precision phrasing.

To my astonishment, when I look up, I see a set of shackles descending from the ceiling. A couple of tiny, concealed panels have slid aside to release them. Robert tilts his large head on one side, as if calculating, and the cuffs and chains halt in their downward progress and swing slowly in the air.

Real fear now overcomes me, but before I’ve a chance to voice it, he’s beside me, lifting my arms one by one, and snapping me into the restraints. They’re padded and surprisingly comfortable around my wrists.

That is until he presses the remote again, causing the chains to retract a little, and me to rise on my toes to ameliorate the sudden strain in my arms.

I can’t help it. I whimper out loud. I’m so out of my depth. I’m in a different world to the one I’ve always known until now.

‘Hush, baby,’ murmurs Maria, instantly at my side. She smoothes my brow with her fingers, then kisses the side of my face while Robert looks on with approval. I start to feel calm again, despite the grinding, agonising ache of frustrated desire that grips my genitals as if they were trapped in a vice.

She peppers my jaw and the side of my neck with little kisses. Her fingers move lightly over me, touching my chest, then my flanks. I hear jingling again, but this time it’s tiny,
barely
audible. I’m not sure what it is, but in a second or two I find out.

With a dexterity that suggests she’s done it a score of times before – possibly to her beloved Robert – Maria straps a neat, carefully crafted little leather harness around my equipment, securing my cock and balls so I remain erect but probably can’t get the blessed relief of orgasm. The constriction makes me harder than ever, and my rigid flesh flushes a brilliant crimson. Clear fluid trickles copiously from my tip.

I groan again and she swiftly inserts a gag in my mouth. It’s a small rubber sphere that presses down on my tongue, and is buckled into place. I start to salivate around it, drooling above as I do below.

How perfect is this subjugation? How much do I realise that I’ve always wanted it, even though I didn’t know it? Maria understands it completely, although I’m sure she never did when we were together in London.

My eyes are wet too, and it dawns on me that there are tears streaming across my cheeks. I gaze at Maria imploringly, begging her silently to take me down and down and further down into a peaceful, if not exactly comfortable, submissive place. I glance too at the man who I now understand is her mentor. The one who gave her all the knowledge she now possesses.

He comes to me too, and also kisses my face, running his tongue around the corners of my lips where they’re stretched around the gag.

‘Delicious,’ he whispers, kissing me one last time, then kissing Maria deeply and voraciously. ‘Thank you, my love,’ he whispers to her. ‘You always know how to give me the nicest presents.’

‘Well, it’s a bit impromptu, sweetheart,’ she murmurs
back
to him, her hands dropping to cup his clearly rampant erection through his trousers. ‘But I knew you’d enjoy it. Happy birthday.’

Somewhere in the back of my drifting mind, I hear the receptionist saying, ‘There’s a bit of a do on … somebody’s birthday … but you’re welcome to join in.’

‘Come on, let’s play with our toy, shall we?’ she says brightly, her expert fingers administering just the delicious, detailed and delightful handling to Robert’s equipment that I’m currently denied.

‘You play with him, my dear,’ says Robert, clearly appreciating her attentions. His even teeth look very white in his broad face as he smiles a dreamy smile. Giving her one last kiss, he retreats to the large chintz chair, from which he has a perfect view of my dangling, exhibited body.

As he spreads his long, solid legs and gets comfortable, he unzips his flies to reveal a truly enormous tool. Strapped up the way I am, I feel as if I’m more huge than I’ve ever been in my life, but next to that rosy, gleaming colossus, my own cock seems almost rudimentary.

He gives me that age-old macho smile of ‘mine’s the biggest’ and promptly begins to stroke it to make it bigger.

My own cock feels like lead.

Mozart plays on.

‘So, Jason,’ breathes Maria, suddenly in my face again, all glorious breasts, long sinuous legs and miraculous, confident femininity. I remember sleeping with her more than once, and enjoying that fabulous body. But right now I’d be in heaven if she’d just let me kiss her shoes.

‘So, Jason,’ she repeats, tilting her golden head, almost Medusa-like as she prowls around me, ‘I guess you’re wondering how we find ourselves together again like this?’

I nod. Even though I don’t care what’s brought me to this place and this strange condition.

‘Pure chance, in the beginning. I would never have expected you to turn up here,’ she admits, taking one of my nipples between her prettily manicured fingers. She pinches me – hard – and, as I writhe, I watch the blood turn my teat to exactly the same colour as her nail polish. ‘But after that … design, my dear. Design. And desire.’ She tweaks both nipples now and twists them this way and that, dragging them away from the wall of my chest and making me gobble and bubble behind my gag in a suppressed howl of anguish. I toss my head from side to side, and my cock tries to leap in its bonds, to no avail.

She smiles, both beauty and cruelty personified.

‘The people who work here at the Waverley are our friends –’ she nods towards her lover, who’s still cheerfully masturbating ‘– and they know my history. You were recognised when you checked in, despite your “new look” and that’s why you were invited to Robert’s party.’

As she speaks her man’s name, she releases me, and reaches down to cup her crotch as if just the word ‘Robert’ induces an
arpeggio
of pleasure.

Maybe it does? As she massages herself, her lips part and she gasps. She must be as excited as I am in her own way.

‘I’m not angry with you, Jason. I never was.’ She’s circling again, moving behind me now. I try to swing round but she gives me a light slap on the bottom, which doesn’t hurt, but still makes my shackled cock lurch and jump. ‘It didn’t matter about you not calling me. I’d already made my mind up to leave London and come home –’ she favours Robert – who’s now shifting himself around voluptuously in the plump, padded chair – with an angelic
smile
‘– where the heart is … although I didn’t realise that at the time.’

I should feel disappointed. Broken. Like nothing. But somehow, I’m almost happy. There’s a sense of benediction in my diminishment. A correctness that thrills me and induces a high that’s far more potent than any stupid thing I’ve ever ingested or smoked. I realise now that I’ve always felt bad about the way I treated Maria. It’s bugged me and troubled me and screwed me up. But at last, here in this room, swinging in bondage, I have my chance to put things right with her.

I feel as if I’m floating. Borne aloft by adrenaline, a sense of my new-found identity, and the delicate bubbling music that plays around us. As Maria’s hands travel skilfully over me, touching, pinching, probing, I almost weep from the intensity of the torment.

And from the scrutiny of her ever-watching lover …

Maria works on me. Like the Mistress she most assuredly is …

I hang like a cur in chains as she puts clamps on my nipples, weights on my balls and plagues my ever-reddening arse with fierce pinches and a fusillade of slaps.

Eventually, when she can see that I’m half off my head, she kisses me tenderly, then abandons me in favour of her beloved Robert.

Still facing me, and making me look at her despite my pathetic state, she sits in his lap, hitching up her skirt, pulling aside her knickers, and lowering herself slowly and with great deliberation onto his cock. Her big blue eyes nearly start out of her head as she seems to sink and sink and sink onto that massive edifice, then they close as she leans back and his hands slide around her body to caress her. I moan again, behind my gag, at the sight of his long, flexing forefinger
working
industriously where I’m no longer deemed worthy to touch. Amongst the sweet, silky curls of Maria’s pussy.

It doesn’t take long. After just a few moments, her spine stiffens, her legs kick, and she arches back against the substantial, supporting form of her lover, then cries, ‘Bobby! Oh, my Bobby!’ as she contorts and climaxes.

My eyes swim again, but not with sorrow. I’m excluded, but at the same time included. They won’t let me come, yet I’m still part of their pleasure …

And even more so, a short while later, when a glowing, dishevelled Maria rises like a debauched empress from Robert’s lap, and reveals him to be still erect. While she releases me from my bonds – both greater and more intimate – it slowly dawns on me what my next function is to be.

I’m elevated from inert toy to active participant as I crawl on hands and knees towards the big man in the fussy, chintzy chair, crouch before him, and open my mouth as he sinks his hands into my hair and directs my face towards his crotch.

He guides my head. He makes me take him deep and I almost gag. But there’s a special sweetness in the taste of her upon him, and an even greater joy as gentle fingers reach beneath me and play a delicate, loving tune upon my own cock.

Somewhere in the background, a lilting, precisely bowed violin is playing too. A stately yet cheerful air, composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, the well-known fetishist and brilliant musical prodigy.

With a happy, muffled, gulping groan, I both come and am copiously come into.

Public Domain

BREATHING DEEPLY, I
pause before the door to the Entertainment Chamber. Efficient as ever, Cicero steps forwards to open it for me. Not for the first time, I admire the sight of his deliciously taut buttocks, and the way they roll and tense enticingly beneath the skintight leather of his trousers as he moves. My fingers itch to reach out and give his firm flesh a squeeze, or even a pinch, but I distract myself by flicking out my fan.