A Professional Ch. 01

INTRODUCTION.

Hello and thanks for selecting A Professional, I've had a blast writing it and hope that it brings you as much pleasure as it has me. The story is in four parts and, whilst it does do what it says on the tin, this is the first and it has to set the scene. Please do read it through from the beginning, because I really believe that the action scenes do work best when taken in context.

A little word of warning, I have had a comment that this story is a bit 'fruity' with the SM side of BDSM. If that is likely to turn you off you might wish to reconsider your choice of story.

Thanks to LiliesLaughing for her advice.

THE STORY BEGINS.

Although there was no-one to hear him he couldn't help shouting out,

"Fucking hell, fuck me!!!! That hurt," as he hopped and leapt around the kitchen.

Nevertheless, he was happy that it was the right sort of pain. The large flogger gave a similar level of sting but accompanied it with a thuggish blow that was heavy and unrefined. He might as well just use a punch and he couldn't imagine that being very popular with his clients. This little baby, however, was more delicate and precise, with just as hard a bite. It also produced a very satisfying smack that sounded crisp and loud like the crack of a whip.

Nursing his sore flesh he sat down and considered how his research had gone. He was satisfied, very satisfied indeed. With his leather cuffs which held so firmly without leaving marks, Nipple Clamps with screw fittings that could caress or grip, as hard as he wanted and a hollow cane that spreads on impact and could be used as hard as possible without producing bruising. The research for that one had made his eyes smart but he was now satisfied that he had the perfect weapons.

When divorce follows redundancy a hard working man in his forties can find life difficult, but John Latham was not going to lie down and die. He had an audacious plan. A tiny office that had been unused for years, behind a warehouse on a local industrial estate was the centre where he hoped his enterprise would spring from but the real business would take place in his large cellar, prepared at some expense. It was quite a gamble.

His advertisement read:

Ladies, want to escape by handing ALL control to a professional? Discretion guaranteed. Satisfaction guaranteed, guaranteed, guaranteed. Contact Mr Frenum, PO Box 228, QZ1 5GN.

Sandra Collingwood was an attractive thirty five year old woman who, although carrying five or six pounds more than she would think perfect, was well proportioned with the greater part of that weight filling out her fine breasts which still defied gravity magnificently.

She had a rich workaholic husband, a beautiful house, nice car, lots of 'society' friends and no life whatsoever. Gordon wasn't even very good in bed when he made it home. Perennially tired and stressed, he was largely unable to satisfy Sandra's ample sex drive. The only orgasms she ever had where when there was no-one else in the room except for her and her rude, depraved thoughts. She did still love him and was sure that he loved her. But he just wasn't there enough or rough enough when he was.

Sandra's first sexual experience had been seventeen years earlier on the middle class housing estate where she grew up, when two local brothers had lured her to their bedroom and cheated at cards. She soon found herself naked, pinned down and inexpertly fondled. Her fear that someone might find out was only matched by the peculiar sense of excitement it brought to her. In the years that followed, although she tried to resist it, Sarah found that her strongest orgasms by far were when she visualised herself being helpless and tormented.

'Femarama Hair and Beauty' was where Sandra was reading a complimentary copy of 'VM' when she saw the advertisement. She took the magazine and couldn't wait to get it home. Answering the ad under the pseudonym Ms Green she made an appointment to see the Professional who warned her that he would be disguised when they first met. This would help with the authenticity of the experience if she did become a client.

Masked and with his voice electronically changed, John invited Sarah to sit down in the office. He briefed her to ensure that there were no misunderstandings about the nature of the service on offer. There were none and so he pressed on and addressed issues of preferences and taboos, she was paying him £1,500 after all and he didn't want to do anything she would find repulsive.

Satisfied that he knew all he needed to John carefully planted a thought in her mind.

"Finally, as we have discussed, these things cannot be done by appointment. Soon I will put you under surveillance and in order to make your experience as realistic as possible I will begin your session without warning, at a place of my choosing and at any time of the day or night.

"I must warn you that, although there is less than a one in ten million chance that it will happen, you are still just as likely as any other woman to be subject of an attack by some maniac. Do not allow yourself to be complacent because you think that I might be watching you and do not lower your guard thinking that it will be easier for me. I am a professional and I will get the job done. Once you have left this office there is no way you will be able to stop me and you certainly do not need to make it easy."

The excitement rose up in Sarah just as much as it was in John.

"Well, what am I waiting for?" she said as she reached forward and absent mindedly signed S Collingwood across the date at the foot of the page. "I do believe that it is going to be money well spent. Let the games begin."

As he watched her slink out of his office John's excitement was such that he was wondering how he was going to manage to sleep at all until he had this job completed.

TIMING IS ALL.

It was just over a week since Sarah visited Mr Frenum and she was quite exhausted from being on what seemed like permanent high alert. She simply couldn't stop herself from thinking about the moment when she would come face to face with her attacker, trying to anticipate constantly where he was going to come from.

Such was her fatigue that she had decided to have a massage at Femarama as well as her usual manicure and exfoliation. As she left feeling refreshed and more relaxed than she had been for some time she said a cheery good bye to Angie and the girls and made her way around the back of the shop to her car. Its familiar chirrup met her as she thumbed the remote and she pulled the handle to let herself in.

With timing to shame a professional magician, as Sarah stepped sideways to put her left foot into the car the man waiting by the large wheelie bin stepped quickly and purposefully forward. By the time Sarah's right leg was swinging into the car and her hand was automatically pulling the door closed the passenger door was silently pulled open and he was entering.

She felt the presence too late and as she began to change her effort from pulling to pushing in an attempt to stop it from closing her heavy door went thud and then immediately clack as the mans hand hit the central locking button on the console. Turning to try and face him the left hand side of Sarah's jaw was caught by a powerful hand that then turned her face away, pushing the top right of her head against the car's side glass. She swivelled her eyes but all that she could see was the man's left arm, and then the glint of something silver coloured. And then she felt the cold blade against her neck that was exposed and vulnerable.

She wanted, needed, confirmation that this was a part of the game and tried to speak.

She only got as far as a muffled and almost inaudible, "Are you?" when the man bellowed,

"Shut your fucking mouth Bitch. Mouthy rich bitches bleed to death. You don't talk. At all. You don't look at me, you just fucking drive where I tell you. Nod if you understand."

Sarah slowly nodded and purposefully kept her gaze to the right. All she had seen of the man was a tattoo on his left arm and she is certain that she didn't see any tattoo when she visited Mr Frenum. She had never felt so scared in her life.

Following his instructions Sarah drove north and very soon was in the countryside. The man barely took his eyes off her. Ten minutes later he told her to take a small track to the right and as she followed it they drove to the back of a wood where she was ordered to stop.

"Turn to your right," came the barked instruction, and Sarah did as she was told.

A hood was placed over her head; it was leather and she was totally unable to see through it although as he pulled it down she felt that it had an intrusion on the inside that rested against her mouth. This held the hood away from her face at the bottom allowing her to look out of it downwards. The man then began to tighten laces which ran across the back of the hood and she soon realised that the intrusion was a rubber pipe that went into her mouth. It pinned down her tongue and her world went completely black.

Without speaking to her further the man tied her hands behind her back and then got out of the car. He went round to her side and took hold of her, pulling her to her feet and escorting her to the back where he lifted her and rolled her into the open boot. He then positioned her on her belly and hog tied her ankles to her wrists. Hearing the boot lid slam shut Sarah wondered if she had left herself too exposed to attack, after all, the car park at Femarama is less safe than the front of the shop, and how would Mr Frenum have known to find her there? She didn't tell him about it.

The ride in the boot of a Mercedes CLK is a lot less comfortable than in any of the seats and being hog tied made it worse than it otherwise would have been. Twenty five minutes seemed like an eternity as Sarah shifted about, trying to get comfortable, and each time she did manage it an arm or leg soon began to ache badly. She was relieved but at the same time apprehensive when the motions of the car slowed and it rode up a small rise before coming to a halt on the flat.

As the driver's door opened she heard the whirring of an electric garage door and the clang of it closing coincided with the welcome flush of cool air that that came with the opening of the boot. The man leant inside and Sarah drew a sharp breath as the blade of a knife was again held to her throat.

"How much noise are you going to make?" growled the man. Sarah held that breath for fear of any sound at all escaping from the tube. He waited a few moments and she received confirmation that she had done the right thing.

"You are a quick learner, the best way to stay alive. Let's keep it that way shall we?"

He cut the straps holding her ankles and she gratefully stretched her legs out. How good that felt. She was rolled onto her front and her legs were dragged out of the car and feet placed on the floor. Once freed from the boot she was led across the garage and through a doorway onto some descending stairs. A heavy door closed behind her and the two continued downwards and through another heavy door into a room with a hard, shiny floor.

Leaving her alone for a moment when he returned he wrapped cuffs around her wrists and then her ankles, clicking each firmly shut in turn. The quite snicking sound of hooks then being attached to the ones at her ankles was followed by a whirring noise and the sound of metal scraping across the floor. Her feet were slowly drawn about three feet apart by an irresistible force.

Her captor then wasted no time in loosening the laces of the hood and in a few short moments Sarah found herself blinking in the unexpectedly bright lights of what can only be described as a dungeon. A well equipped dungeon. The walls were brick and the one opposite her was lined horizontally with 2" diameter steel bars that stood out slightly from it at 8" intervals from the floor to the 9 feet tall ceiling.

At the right hand end of the room were more of these bars rising out of the ground in various arrangements. Some running floor to ceiling, some in a crucifix arrangement and various others including some running horizontally at different heights. The left hand end comprised of wooden shelving and racks. Many of the items on the racks were easily identifiable as whips, canes and so on. Some of them, such as a thing that looked like a tiny hammock suspended between two substantial steel bars were not identifiable at all.

The floor was of hard, stone tiles. It was generally dark and below some of the bars there were small patches and trails stained darker still. Blood? Finally Sarah noticed that the ceiling had dozens of hooks hanging a few inches below it, each suspended on a chain, along with three large frames that looked like they could easily support the weight of a woman.

The man waited until he was satisfied that she had got used to the light and had taken in the extent and variation of the environment and tools he had at his disposal for her torment. He then cut off the bonds on her wrists with which he had originally tied her and casually strolled around to stand at her front.

He was older than she had imagined Mr Frenum to be, perhaps forty five or so, just a little under six feet tall, with an athletically muscular build. His short cropped hair was greying at the temples and his blue eyes had a penetrating quality that was difficult to describe. And that tattoo visible on his left arm below his T shirt sleeve. 'DON' underlined with a jagged line and beneath that 'Sadie.' 'Don the Sadist?' she wondered. He certainly didn't look like the maniac sex fiends who stared out of new bulletins all too often.

Lifting the hem of her lightweight cotton dress he slid the knife between her knickers and skin on her hips, first the left and then the right, slicing them and letting them fall to the floor, leaving her commando but taking no time to bother examining her.

Standing back, he got straight to the point, "The rest, off. NOW."

She immediately undressed, trying to ignore his obvious enjoyment at the sight of her curvy figure, and flung her clothes to the side in response to his waved indication.

She hoped so much that it wasn't true but she was beginning to be convinced that she had fallen victim of that one-in-ten-million chance. She hated the fact that this vile bastard was now feasting his eyes on her nakedness. Even more than that she hated the fact that it was turning her on. He went across to the racks and returned with a razor, an aerosol and squat bucket containing lukewarm water.

"Shave," came the order as he kicked the bucket between her feet.

Sarah knew that he did not mean her armpits and so she reluctantly began to lather her pubic hair and strip it away for his pleasure. As she did so the reality hit her that, if this man was not Frenum, she had no idea when this hell was going to end.

Desperate for confirmation she stopped for a moment and pleadingly looked up at him.

She got as far as "Are y......." when his hand crashed against the side of her face. She would have fallen over if it was not for her feet being held firmly in place.

He grabbed her hair at the back of her head and twisted her face upwards to meet his. "One more fucking time bitch. One more fucking time and I slit your fucking throat."

She just couldn't imagine the nice Mr Frenum being so horrible. Who was this man who now owned her, and what did her future hold?

Tossing her a towel he took back the razor and aerosol and she wiped away the last of the foam.

"There. You're worth more already," he commented, mockingly.

He then went to the wall opposite her and from between two bars about seven feet up pulled two chains with hooks attached. They emerged from the wall about four feet apart and he crossed them over as he returned. They were then locked on to the cuffs on Sarah's wrists before he went to the wall again and pulled out a similar one from close to the floor below the other two.

Attaching this to her left ankle he then finally retrieved one from barely two feet below the chain that he had attached to her right wrist. This was locked onto the right ankle. He then released the hooks that had drawn her feet apart.

The man now took out a remote control. He did not give her any instruction but simply began reeling the chains in slowly but very surely. She knew that, much as she had disliked what had taken place so far this, what was going to happen now, was when it was really going to begin. She was going to be totally immobilised in his dungeon and he was going to be able to do anything and everything he wanted to her.

Panic came over her and she began pulling wildly against the chains, yanking at them, twisting and turning to try to stop their satanic motion, slowly dragging her to her fate. Closer and closer she was pulled towards the wall and soon her frantic movements were restricted to kicking out with her right leg as it was raised to the most uncomfortable position Sarah could ever remember being in, and still it went on, higher and higher. Finally, as she felt that she was being split in two, it came to a halt.

She could not believe that this was happening. Alone and afraid, tied to the wall in a position that was designed to do two things, give her pain and expose her pussy to any torment he wanted. Why was it turning her on so much? She couldn't understand and hated the fact that it was so, but this experience was even more arousing than she had expected the safety of a ravaging by Mr Frenum to be.

With her being so vulnerable Sarah expected that a physical attack on her was imminent, but to her surprise the man turned and walked to a black leather armchair that had been behind her and unnoticed when she was first brought into the room. Settling into the chair he just sat and gazed at her. His purpose soon began to make itself known to Sarah as the discomfort of her position grew.

Her left hip began to burn and the leg cramped. The weight of her right leg was pulling on her ankle and her arms ached as the blood drained from them. The chains had been deliberately left slightly slack and she was able to move her arms and right leg to a small degree and make tiny hops with her left. Her attempts to escape from the pain, that was getting stronger by the second, forced her to wriggle in her bonds and that small amount of movement caused her large but still firm breasts to bobble and heave wonderfully.

It was clear to Sarah that this was exactly what the filthy pervert wanted, he knew that she was in pain, he loved the effect of her useless writhing and the more she thought about that the hornier and more frustrated she became.

He was watching her carefully and judging her discomfort with the eye of an expert. He chose his moment to rise from the chair and approach her again. He raised his right hand towards her chest and she flinched, preparing herself to feel the pain of a nipple being pinched but instead of that she involuntarily jerked upwards as the unseen left hand brought a smart smack to her crotch that sent fire into her pussy.

The man then pinned her back against the bars by placing his right hand across her throat, and worked at her swollen labia with his fingers driving three of them into her engorged womanhood.

A muffled, "Shiiiiit!!" exclamation uttered from Sarah as her helpless, traitorous body welcomed the invading digits with vigour.

Her hips gyrated back and forth rapidly, banging her buttocks against the bars and she pulled at her wrist cuffs, trying to drive down onto his hand.

The welcome stimulation became more and more intense and the man worked her G spot and clit for all they were worth until she was approaching an explosive climax that threatened to race through her like a freight train but, again judging her condition with the eye of an expert, the he withdrew his fingers before it arrived. Her hips continued to hunt backwards and forwards and her right leg jerked in spasm but the orgasm would not come.