Otherwise Engaged

The woman nodded to the maid who left the room and then she smiled at me.

"This is your last night with me. You now know about the ring and so I am sure it has crossed you mind to do me some harm; being your last few hours it might encourage you to act rashly and hence the precautions.

There is, however, an ulterior motive..."

She had a bag with her and from it she took out a stiff plastic collar. She put it around my neck and fastened it snugly tight.

"I want you to close your eyes and hold your breath"

Damning her calm assurance I did as she asked and then I felt my face and hair being sprayed.

"You can open your eyes now."

She was holding an aerosol and whatever she had sprayed me with had a neutral smell but felt greasy on my skin and particularly in my hair which was liberally dampened. Wondering what came next I did not have to wait long.

She produced something that looked like a flesh coloured latex balaclava and, not without some effort, she worked it over my head. It was a close fit with openings over my eyes nose and mouth but my hearing was dulled.

She fitted the neck of the mask over the collar and, when she was satisfied, she revealed something that resembled the vacuum cleaner gadget that I used to clean my computer keyboard.

The comparison proved to be accurate when she mated it to a valve on the collar and switched it on. The mask began to tighten against my face to an alarming extent and I found it a physical effort to blink my eyes. Had it been allowed to tighten around my throat to the same degree I would have suffocated

Satisfied with her work she casually got undressed and notwithstanding my wretchedness I felt the consequences of an involuntary erection. She acted as if she had not noticed but she knew full well, despite her cruelty, the effect she still had on me.

When she was naked she took a small glass bottle from the bag. With mock ceremony she removed the stopper and poured a measure of the pale contents into the palm of her hand. She approached and slowly rubbed her hands together before smearing them over the surface of the mask which was so close fitting it could have been absent.

I guessed what was coming and she smiled as she saw my comprehension. With a perfect fluidity of motion she mounted the bed and slid her knees over my shoulders. At first her movements were slow and gentle, an arousing caress, but as the minutes passed she began to bear down more heavily seeking more friction.

Of course, the smoothness of the mask, and the lubricant that she had applied, went to deny her and her only resort was to work her body more quickly.

She was fully aroused and her sap, mixed with the oil, filled my nostrils leaving me to breathe through my mouth as best I could.

I was swamped by her taste and smell and the mask made me feel distressing hot but my wellbeing, or otherwise, was of no consequence to her. She was moving ever faster, grinding her hips, and working herself over the whole of my face.

She began to groan as if fearing that she would not reach the zenith but the only thing that could deny her was her own physical energy. I could sense her excitement at knowing that I was totally helpless and subject to anything she chose to inflict upon me and this spurred her on.

She was a beautiful, powerful animal, driven by the most basic of instincts and she crushed me totally as she drove on towards her undeniable goal.

When the moment came she screamed unreservedly with the pure joy of it and I was trapped in the darkness beneath her as she tried to hold herself still even as her body jerked with slowly ebbing aftershocks.

She barely found the strength to raise herself but she finally managed and stood beside the bed. She was trying not to laugh as she surveyed my abused features and I hardly dared imagined how I looked to her; a smooth, faceless, mount contoured for her pleasure.

"Catch your breath. I'll be back shortly."

She sauntered naked from the room and no sooner was she gone than the maid reappeared. Her manner was perfunctory as she used a cloth to clean my face and then my worst fears were realized when she reached for the bottle of oil.

As she reapplied the lubricant I thought that I caught a look of compassion in her eyes but it dawned on me that it was actually self-pity that she would not be the one making use of me.

I was left alone feeling ever more uncomfortable in the mask which was a constant reminder of what was to come. I tried to relax in the hope that my face would cool down but I was disturbed by the sound of laughter.

I lifted myself to the extent that the restraints would allow to find two young women standing in the doorway. One seemed perfectly calm but her companion looked as shocked as I was.

"Oh my God!"

"Don't worry. It's just one of mummy's little projects."

There was no doubting who she was. She had her mother's stunning looks and the same bearing common to the privileged. I knew that my manhood would, under other circumstances, almost certainly have betrayed me but I was stunned by the revelation that she was not only aware of her mother's inclinations but quite comfortable with them.

She turned away dismissively.

"The tents are stored along the hall..."

Her companion seemed not to hear her as she tentatively edged further into the room. She took in the restraints but looked ready to leap away if it became necessary. As she drew closer her gaze remained fixed on my captive manhood but she was brought up short.

"Mel, come away, let's pick up the gear and get going."

She paused for a moment, frozen in uncertainty, but then ignored her friend as she reached out.

Her hand was warm but hesitant as she took hold of my manhood and examined the ring with its associated piercings. She could not match her friend for looks but was obviously of university age and pretty in her own right. Unfortunately her casual examination had an inevitable effect.

As I began to swell in her grip she looked at me with eyes that revealed guilty experience and, as if to prove it, she moved her thumb further up my shaft and began to gently rub at the exposed head. My erection immediately flared and I groaned as it pushed painfully against its limits.

On hearing the sound she immediately released me but then, with a sly smile, she took hold again and picked up where she had left off. She tried two or three times to see how long it took for the pain to kick in and then turned to her friend and whispered excitedly.

"Anne! Is your mum some sort of sadist?"

Anne resigned herself to being delayed and entered the room.

"No she's not...well not how you mean it...it's just her way of having a little fun."

Mel looked intrigued, a wealth of hitherto unforeseen possibilities suggesting themselves, and I felt sorry for any future man in her life. She switched her attention to my face and I wondered how I appeared to her.

"Why is he wearing a mask?"

Anne leaned across and whispered into her ear and I watched as Mel's eye's widened.

"You're not serious..!"

Even as she spoke she gingerly touched my face to check the truth of the matter and then turned to her friend.

"Close the door..."

Anne looked shocked, perhaps even a little frightened, but then a gleam of excitement lit her eyes. She crossed the room quickly and closed the door quietly whilst Mel wasted no time in reaching beneath her skirt to remove her underwear.

I wanted to reason with them, perhaps even threaten them with exposure, but their blood was up and I knew, realistically that they would not listen. Besides which I had come so far and the prospect of release was tantalizingly close.

Mel still had a few pounds of puppy fat to shed but she mounted the bed with an unexpected athleticism. She positioned herself over my face with a look of unalloyed glee and then she dropped her skirt plunging me into a confining gloom.

After a second or two she relaxed and sank onto my face but she rested heavily making it extremely uncomfortable and awkward to breathe. Readjusting, she took some of her own weight and then I heard her giggle.

She said something that I could not hear clearly but I guessed that it was the warmth of my laboured breathing against her sex that was the cause of her amusement. Unfortunately, the harder I breathed the hotter I became imprisoned beneath her skirt which released the trapped smells of a days wear.

I caught a few words from Anne urging her to get on with it and Mel touched herself against my face once more and began to work her hips and thighs. Her movements were slow, awkward and unsure but she was soon guided by her instincts and her growing need.

She bore down more positively and found a faster rhythm and I could almost feel the groan of pleasure that passed through her. She was almost obscenely wet but she could not quite find the relief that she sought.

Twice she had to stop to catch her breath and then, each time, she started again with renewed determination.

It was a nightmare as she rode my face unremittingly but my anguish was compounded by the presence of leisurely fingers toying with my manhood.

I felt totally immersed, the mask seeming to thicken her scent and steal the oxygen from the little air allowed me. My body began to spasm, as my tormented muscles demanded respite, and it was this, perhaps, that tripped her over the edge.

She stopped dead for a few seconds and then she gave a few uncontrolled thrusts as her orgasm wrenched her violently.

After some minutes she dismounted, far less elegantly than she had settled, and she was sobbing with the sheer pleasure of the experience.

Immediately Anne began to clean my face with a wad of tissues and then she looked furtively towards the door.

"Pass me the bottle..."

I tried to protest but my now swollen lips made it sound a pathetic nonsense. She was much more assured than Mel and she hovered over me revealing the neat slit of her sex.

"Is it prettier than mum's?"

I hated the bitch, and just wanted it over with, but she was not going to let me off that easily.

"I want you to lick me..."

Detestable as I found it, I made the effort but the mask pressurising my abused mouth made it difficult and the opening abraded my tongue.

She gave it a moment or two and then simply declared.

"Bloody useless..."

With that she began to use my face with a vicious ferocity reaching a quick and powerful climax which left her flushed and perspiring when it was over.

This time it was left to Mel to clean me up and she had the presence of mind to reapply the oil so leaving me as I was found.

It was a good while before Anne's mother returned. She was wearing a night gown which was quickly dispensed with and then she came and spoke quietly at my ear.

"They think that I don't know...but it's a good way for them to learn."

Nothing more was said. She nested herself over me facing towards my feet and I just knew that it was going to take very long time...

Chapter Seven

The next morning Thelma and Louise came to collect me and I was returned to my cell which was completely unchanged.

If I hoped for a speedy resolution I was to be frustrated. For two days there was no sign of Celeste and I fell back into the familiar routine of three meals a day. The game was still available to me on the laptop but I chose to ignore it and, instead, tried to push myself on the exercise equipment.

On the third day Celeste finally put in an appearance. She was casually dressed but still looked as stunning as ever.

"One final test. Your questions will be answered and your performance in the next couple of hours will determine your future. Come with me."

I followed her out of the room and for the very first time I was taken up the stairs and into the house itself. I was surprised by just how big it was but more so by the décor. I had convinced myself that the scenes from the video had been shot here but these rooms were all minimally furnished in a very modern style with a lot of light oak and maple wood used throughout.

We reached a living room with a glass wall and balcony that gave a panoramic view down over the city and this vision of a normally functioning world fuelled my anger again.

Save that it was immodestly expensive the room looked perfectly ordinary. It had a wood burning stove, sofas and a flat screen tv so large that it would probably not go through my own humble front door.

The one anomaly was a chair set in the centre of the room. It was luxuriously upholstered in white leather and looked to be infinitely adjustable. Celeste saw where I was looking.

"Take your place."

She did not have to give further explanation. I stepped over to the chair, sighed, and went down on my knees. When I was settled she produced two white silk scarves and invited me to put my hands behind my back whereupon she bound my wrists in a manner more symbolic than practical.

With that done she used the second scarf to blindfold me but it was an irrelevance as I was certain now that I was to serve the woman I had observed on the laptop. Who she was and the nature of her role in all this I could not guess but she seemed key to everything.

I heard the click of heels as Celeste stepped off the rug and left followed shortly afterwards by a new tread as someone else entered the room.

The newcomer settled into the chair with a soft creak of leather and then there was a rustle of clothing. The perfume in the air was expensive and vaguely familiar but I could not put a name to it.

The soft hum of motors confirmed that the chair was being adjusted and I sensed her legs to either side of me. I knelt wondering if I should await instruction or simply begin but the signal, when it was given, was unexpected. A bare foot, smelling sweetly of talc, was presented to my mouth.

This was the first time that this particular indignity had been visited upon me and, for some odd reason, I felt more affronted by this than much that had gone before. The whole situation was surreal and the impulse to get to my feet and walk away, back to some semblance of sanity, almost won out.

The problem was that just the thought of rebellion now brought on a phantom pain in my groin. I took a deep breath and girded myself for this last ordeal. Whatever else I thought of them they had told no obvious lies.

Her foot was soft, dainty, and well looked after but, having made the gesture with my tongue I kissed my way upwards. Her skin was perfectly smooth and I tried to picture her as I reached her inner thigh.

Continuing to pay homage with my tongue I assayed her toned musculature and a general impression of slimness which did not accord with the mental image I had conjured.

I began to wonder if it was Celeste herself but then why the subterfuge?

Whoever she was she was becoming aroused. She remained perfectly still but the female scent, with which I had become so familiar in recent weeks, began to tantalize my nostrils.

In a spirit of defiance I began to exercise the one semblance of self-determination left to me. I was going to tease her until her agony was as exquisite as mine was real.

I spent an age skirting the delta of her sex, paying particular attention to the crease of her thigh, and all the time listening for the changes in her breathing. It was something indefinable but she seemed less composed than the women I had recently served almost as if it were a new experience.

She gave no instructions, and was content for me to set the tempo, even though her excitement was mounting. Her essence was heavy in the air and my tongue caught the sweetness of her as she slowly began to melt.

When she gave a stifled moan I relented a little and made a number of darting incursions onto the curve of her mound. I was immediately struck by the fact that she sported a soft growth which was warmly impregnated with her taste.

This fresh clue finally convinced me that this was not the woman in the clip and when, at last, I began to lick at her cleft the demureness of her labia confirmed it.

Her sex opened to my tongue like an overripe fruit and I felt the heat of her dammed up frustration. She leaked freely but I still held back even moving away from her mound altogether from time to time.

She was writhing in her seat by the time that I began to probe with greater intimacy and she started to climax more easily than I had prepared for. She cried out and, not altogether successfully, tried to suppress this obvious expression of her satisfaction.

As the final tremors dissipated I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard Celeste's voice.

I had been completely unaware of her presence in the room not least because I was caught up in that muffled whimpering. It was impossible but I thought I recognized something in it.

Celeste spoke a little more firmly catching my attention.

"In a few moments you will try again and this time you will perform perfectly. I have a ready market in Eastern Europe for anyone who fails."

I knew that she was talking bullshit, trying to intimidate me, but for now she was irrelevant. My thoughts were in turmoil as I sifted the totally implausible possibilities which insisted upon trying to assemble themselves into a coherent explanation.

At the very heart of it was the reason for being in Amsterdam in the first place. It had originally been booked as my stag weekend but my spectacular break up with Charlotte had put paid to that.

Part of the strain on our relationship was my propensity to spend money faster than I earned it; so much so that Charlotte had stumped up for the whole cost of the weekend. I rationalized it by telling myself that she could afford it.

She was pretty, not the sort to stand out in a crowd, but this ordinariness hid a ruthless determination when it came to the running of her business. When I first set eyes on her I was pitching for some freelance work and I took her for a secretary. I was quickly disabused. She hired me in spite of my crassness and I saw at first hand just how professionally focussed she could be.

She had grown her company from a university inspired start up to firm of over seventy employees with representative offices all over Europe and North America. I had never met a woman like her and I could see that she was attracted by my honed body and my public school charm.

The long and the short, I took advantage of her. I was clever enough not to talk her straight into bed and set about romancing her in an old fashioned way that she would appreciate. She, in return, lavished me with gifts and displayed a cute naiveté when it came to affairs of the heart.

When we did finally go to bed together it was a nightmare. She was the most prudish woman I had ever laid. She always wanted the lights out and was reluctant about everything except the missionary position.

Convincing her to go down on me was a real challenge but once I got her started I ensured that she got plenty of practise. I returned the compliment once but that was enough. She carried a few extra pounds and she was appalled when I suggested that she shaved insisting that she was not a little girl.

I decided that I could enjoy the best of both worlds and a series of one night stands provided an outlet for my frustration. After a year I had moved in with her into a home that I could never have afforded on my own. She began to feel more secure and became more adventurous in her lovemaking but, by now, I had convinced her that cunnilingus was not my thing.

Somehow we drifted into a state of engagement, she even paid for her own ring, and I figured what the heck. She broached the subject of children but I always managed to skirt the issue. Kids were something that adults aspired to and, for me, it was a long way over the horizon.