Trust Ch. 08

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Is this the ultimate plimsoll fetish sex fantasy?
9.6k words
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Part 8 of the 13 part series

Updated 10/31/2022
Created 06/07/2009
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[Is this the ultimate plimsoll fetish sex fantasy?]

Chapter 8 -- And all because the lady loves ...

Emma's job as a ballet teacher and mine in the City take a lot out of us, so there are some evenings when, however much our spirits are willing, our bodies just aren't up for sex. On one such evening we were relaxing with a refreshing glass of chilled Pinot Grigio after dinner; the beguiling sound of Mozart's 'Elvira Madigan' piano concerto adding to the air of relaxed and comfortable sexiness. We were naked except for our white ankle socks and white plimsolls, as we always were when we were at home in private. We sat facing each other on the sitting room floor, leaning back against large floor cushions. Our legs were stretched out in front of us and spread comfortably apart in an interlocking V pattern so that we could gently massage each other's genitals with the rubber soles of our right feet plimsolls, with my leg slightly bent to compensate for being the taller.

For a few minutes I had been blissfully enjoying the gentle yet stimulating rub of Emma's plimsoll on the very base of my swollen shaft where it joined my sack, along with the wonderful pressing feeling in my balls as the pressure of her foot pushed and rubbed them against my groin; when I stirred from my reverie and remarked to her,

"If you think about it, we must spend more of our lives naked than we do wearing clothes."

"I'm sure you must be right," she agreed. "After all, we always sleep together naked, we spend nearly all our time here naked, and whenever we go out into the country together we often find an opportunity to be naked for a while. Oh! Just hold your foot right there, that feels gorgeous," she sighed. I watched in delight the slight wobble of her breasts and the wriggle of her bottom as she adjusted her position to press her sex in exactly the right spot against my plimsoll. She closed her eyes and smiled in her delight. Her eyes were still closed a minute later when she spoke again as if in a dream.

"You know that Mel Gibson film, 'What women want' -- the one where he can hear what women are thinking about -- do you suppose they thought about making a sequel so it's the opposite way round; so that Helen Hunt gets a bump on the head and then she can hear what men are thinking?"

"I doubt they'd do that for the simple reason that what women think about is far more interesting than what men think about," I opined. "Especially when it comes to sexual fantasies," I added with a grin and a gentle flex of my foot against her groin.

Emma opened her eyes with a start of pleasure and a beaming smile lit up her lovely face. "I really enjoy listening to your sexual fantasies," she asserted. "I loved that one you told me the other day: then one where I make you dress up like Bonnie Langford with long blonde ringlets and a really frilly-girly party dress with lots of bows on it, and pink ballet shoes worn with white knee socks."

"I still think yours are better," I smiled. "Have you got any more you haven't told me about yet?"

She thought dreamily for a moment and then beamed her smile at me again. "I'd love to be arrested and taken in handcuffs to a police station and be made to strip and forced to have an intimate body search and then be given corporal punishment for being a 'bad girl'." She giggled in her enthusiasm and her breasts trembled as she hugged herself at the thought of it.

"I can do the punishment bit for you any time you like," I suggested hopefully.

"You are so sweet to me," she teased, "but it wouldn't be quite the same."

I decided instantly that something would have to be done.

I waited until the following Saturday, when she was at her ballet school giving her regular morning classes, so that I could search the Web for inspiration without her knowing. After about half an hour I came across the website that I was looking for.

"Come to Fantasy Island and live your deepest desires!" it invited. "The beginning of the journey of your dreams is just a call away. Contact Rick or Julia TODAY and tell us YOUR fantasy."

I used my mobile phone to call the number on the website. Rick answered with a voice that was well-spoken with a distinctive quality of calm authority. I arranged to meet him after work early in the week at a pub which was near to my office but which I rarely visited.

He was tall and athletically well-proportioned, in his late thirties or early forties, with a strong and lined face that women who liked their men rough-hewn would find attractive, clear blue eyes and shoulder length blonde hair swept back in a tight pony tail, which exposed a wide expanse of forehead. He was dressed to blend in with the City crowd, a smart two-piece suit over a blue striped shirt with expensive gold cufflinks a plain red tie and well-polished brogues.

We chose a table and exchanged the usual pleasantries. To establish his bona fides he showed me a list of satisfied clients who were willing to respond to discreet enquiries about the service he provided. I scanned the list of male clients: ... Michael Egan, Jeremy Frost, Steve Haslam, Stuart Hunter ...; and then the female clients: ... Julia Lewis, Lorna MacAllister, Donatella Mazzini-Felgate ...; but saw no-one that I recognised. Refusing to be put off by this omission, I offered him a drink.

"How can we help you?" he asked after graciously accepting the proffered pint I had carried from the bar to our table.

I told him about Emma's police arrest fantasy. He then asked me a long series of questions about her sexual preferences, taking great interest in her involvement in ballet and in her plimsoll fetish, until finally he said,

"Well there's plenty there for Julia and me to work on. We should be able to come up with a pretty good programme for her. Are you happy to leave the planning to us? It saves on unnecessary communication that could be seen by people you don't want to."

"That's fine by me," I replied. "I think she'd be up for just about anything. She likes a bit of rough treatment and she has a big thing for painful sex."

"That's very interesting," Rick responded, but did not elaborate any further.

"How much will you charge?" I asked.

"Seven hundred and fifty pounds, non-returnable; if the lady doesn't want to play, I'm afraid you lose the lot," he informed me.

"I'll take that risk," I answered as I got out my cheque book.

We arranged a date for Emma's 'arrest and detention' and as a cover story I arranged with her to meet on that evening for dinner at a restaurant I had been suggesting for a while to try out. I already had a genuine client meeting arranged beforehand, which made the deception plan even more effective.

The day came and it was a miracle that I was able to do any work at all because I was so taut with anticipation for the evening's events. After my client meeting I walked at a brisk stroll, in a buzzing state of heightened anticipation and excitement, the mile or so to the restaurant for my rendezvous with Rick and Julia. As I walked into the restaurant car park the headlights of a large black BMW saloon with darkened windows flashed at me. I approached the car and the rear door opened. I slid myself onto the back seat and closed the door. After exchanging a brief greeting with Rick, we settled back to wait in silence.

Emma was due to arrive within the next twenty minutes. I had suggested that she drive to the restaurant so that she would have to come into the car park, where it would be easier for Rick and Julia to make their 'arrest' more discretely. As per her usual practice regarding time keeping, she was late. So, besides my customary anxiety about her lateness, which was the one thing about her I would have changed without hesitation, I was also anxious that she might well refuse to take part. 'She just has to say yes,' I repeated to myself over and over again.

After a further ten minutes I exhaled deeply in relief as her classic white Peugeot 205 cabriolet, with the roof down, pulled in to the car park and into a space just a few feet from where we were parked. I watched in delight as she emerged from her car. Her long blonde hair tumbled loosely around the shoulders of her white short sleeved blouse that she wore tied in a bow below her ribs to expose her bare stomach. She wore a short black pleated miniskirt over black fishnets and a pristine pair of white Keds lace-up plimsolls. I feasted on the sight of the curves of her beautiful body filling out the close embrace of her blouse and her little tight skirt and the way that the long flowing lines of her lovely legs led my eager ayes down to her irresistibly pretty ankles and her gorgeous feet making her dainty little skipping steps in her white plimsolls. She radiated beauty and sexiness into the warm evening air and it took me a great effort of will to stop myself getting out of Rick's car and bounding up to her to embrace and kiss her.

Instead, it was Rick who got out of the car and strolled across to her, arriving next to her just as she finished closing up the hood of her car and locking it. Thanks to the tiny camera and microphone concealed on his person, I was able to see and hear all that was happening via the little monitor screen on the back of the front passenger seat.

"Pardon me, Madam," he began, speaking in a suitably official sounding tone. "Are you Emily Jane Curtin of 37 Park Farm Avenue?"

Emma kept her wits about her In spite of her initial surprise at being thus accosted. "Why do you need to know who I am?" she replied with a pleasantly guarded smile. The car park was well lit and open to public view, with plenty of people around, so she showed no sign of feeling threatened. She stood relaxed as she put her car keys in her handbag, with one foot in front of the other and her toes turned outwards like a ballerina. Her white plimsolls looked like ballet shoes.

Rick was unfazed by her initial coolness as he continued, "Are you acquainted with a Mr Charles Bartlett?"

Emma's smile broadened into a grin. "Oh, so he's put you up to this, has he? What's he up to this time?"

Rick declined to be familiar. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and showed Emma what I presumed was some sort of ID, the sight of which caused her to put her hand to her mouth and give a little giggle. When she had recovered her composure he continued,

"We have received from Mr Bartlett evidence relating to you that strongly suggests that you are engaging in behaviour that comes within the criminal offence of 'Being a Disgusting Trollop' as per section 339B of the Depraved and Disgusting Activities Act 1852. According to the aforementioned Act I, as an officer in the Perverted Activities Squad, am obliged and empowered to take you into custody to investigate the allegations made against you and administer summary corrective punishment as applicable. At this point I must warn you that anything you say will be taken down, especially short skirts, items of hosiery and sexy underwear."

He waited for a moment while Emma dissolved into a further fit of giggles before continuing. "I also must explain that, as the Human Rights Act even extends to suspected disgusting trollops like yourself, you have the right to exercise the option of being arrested now and taken to the station for examination and punishment or, alternatively, discuss the allegations in person with Mr Bartlett and take whatever measures you see fit."

"How much has he paid for this?" she laughed.

"I'm not permitted to divulge that information but if you were to guess at seven hundred and fifty pounds you would be absolutely correct," Rick replied, totally deadpan.

"Did he really spend that much on me?" she smiled. "Bless his little white frilly cotton ankle socks." She put her hands on her hips, lifted the heel of her leading foot and with a twist of her foot lightly ground the sole beneath the pointed toe of her plimsoll into the asphalt surface of the car park, inclined her head slightly to one side and looked straight at Rick. "OK, what happens to me if I say yes?"

Rick returned her gaze with a level expression of his own. "You sign a form agreeing to whatever treatment we give you during the period of your detention; then you get into the van just over there where my lady police woman colleague is waiting for us," he indicated a blue transit van parked a few yards away. "Then we put you into protective restraint, which in theory is for your own safety but is actually because we both get a kick from tying up beautiful women and putting gags and blindfolds on them. We then take you to the station where you will strip, be printed and photographed, give a range of bodily tissue samples and be given a thorough body examination including visual and manual external and internal inspection of all orifices. When we have the evidence we need we will then carry out appropriate punishment followed by a thorough cleansing procedure. Due to the intimate nature of the process I will not touch you at any point during the proceedings; all physical contact will be carried out by my colleague, who is a fully trained nurse so you will be in capable hands. Mr Bartlett will be in the vicinity and will be observing proceedings at all times and you will be transferred back into his custody upon completion of your sentence."

"Oh he will, will he?" Emma laughed. "Then he'll already know that I'll get my own back on him for certain. Where do I sign?"

Emma signed and returned the form which Rick handed to her and followed him to the back of the van. He knocked on the door before opening it and inside was Julia dressed in a police sergeant's uniform. She helped Emma into the van and Rick followed behind and closed the door. The picture on my TV screen changed to the interior of the van.

"Take charge of the prisoner, Sergeant," Rick said to Julia.

Julia was tall, blonde and handsome and very fit looking in her police uniform. Her hair was scraped back into a tight bun. Her body tapered attractively from strong shoulders to a trim waist and then her hips and her bottom swelled out again in a most eye-catching fashion within her trousers. Ample breasts under the firm tutelage of a plain white cotton bra filled her neat and crisp white blouse. Her long, well-proportioned legs ended in police woman's shoes that were so polished it was possible to see the van's interior reflected in them.

"Yes, Inspector," she replied. She instructed Emma to sit on a gurney-type stretcher that was fixed to a raised platform bolted to the floor of the van. With a deftness and assurance of technique that indicated long practice she drew Emma's arms behind her back and fitted her wrists into handcuffs. Then she fitted Emma with a black leather muzzle gag, adjusting the straps around Emma's head and across her face until the mouth patch was drawn tight against her lips and her jaws were clamped firmly together, She then made Emma lie down on her back on the stretcher and bound her legs together with leg restraints made of strong canvas webbing fixed with webbing straps.

Julia then strapped Emma's prone body firmly to the stretcher with straps holding her down at various points along the length of her body and legs. As she did so, Emma's skirt rode up above her hips and I saw with great pleasure that her fishnets were not tights, as I had first assumed, but were stockings with lacy tops fixed to a black lace suspender belt worn with a black satin thong that only just left her womanhood to the imagination. The sight of the whole laid-out length of her long and shapely legs, from the lacy stocking tops encircling her thighs to the daintily pointed toes of her white plimsolls, caused an instant clench of excitement in my groin. Julia completed Emma's restraining by fitting her with a blindfold consisting of a joined pair of black leather eye patches that fitted closely over her eye sockets and was fixed in place with an adjustable strap.

As Emma would be unattended in the back of the van during her transportation to the place of her interrogation, Julia placed in her hand a squeezable handle attached by a cable to an alarm bell that would be activated if she squeezed the handle three times in quick succession in the event of becoming distressed. With Emma thus firmly and comfortably restrained, Rick got out of the van, quickly closing the door behind him, and rejoined me. After getting into the driver's seat and closing the door he handed me a blindfold as well and instructed me to put it on.

"We like to keep the location of our activities secret so no looking until we arrive," he informed me. "If I see you trying to see where we are I will stop and you will have to leave the car."

We drove off with Julia following us in the van. Not daring to risk missing out on seeing what they would do to Emma, I did as I was told and saw nothing from that point until Rick stopped the car and led me into a building before instructing me to remove my blindfold. I was inside a large, windowless room lit by arc lights. The walls were painted white and were featureless apart from a large mirror set into the surface of one of the long walls. In the middle of the room was a large table covered with equipment including a laptop computer attached to various peripherals, cameras and apparatus for taking and analysing bodily samples. In the corner of the room was a tiled area with a shower and a couple of sinks.

Rick pointed out to me the mirror and a door near to it which opened into a corridor.

"That's a two-way mirror through which you can observe the proceedings from the room next door," he informed me. This room, in contrast to the first, was comfortably furnished and was even equipped with tea and coffee making facilities. I helped myself to a double espresso and a most enticing looking pastry and settled down in a comfortable arm chair to watch the fun just as Julia wheeled Emma, still handcuffed, gagged and blindfolded and strapped down on the stretcher, into the room.

"I trust you had a comfortable journey under the circumstances, Emma?" Rick enquired.

"Mmm! Mmmph!" she replied, turning her sightless eyes in his direction and giving an affirming nod of her head.

"All right Sergeant, get the prisoner on her feet," he instructed Julia. Julia unstrapped Emma from the stretcher and lifted her upright. Emma stood with her knees slightly bent and her shoulders hunched while she made little high pitched muffled gasps through her gag with the effort of keeping her balance while bound and blindfolded. Julia pushed the stretcher out of the way and then she and Rick proceeded to photograph Emma from all directions, he with a still camera and she with a video camera.

This was the start of a process over several stages during which Julia would first remove a part of Emma's restraint before she and Rick took more footage of her. First Emma was freed from her leg restraints and told to stand up straight with her legs apart; then her blindfold was removed followed by her gag and finally her handcuffs.

"Stand up straight, legs apart, hands on your head, keep still and no talking!" Julia barked at Emma. Emma did what she was told for another round of photography and then began a similar process to the previous one, in which she had to take off an item of clothing in turn as instructed by Rick before putting her hands back on her head and being photographed again. First she was made to take off her blouse, then her skirt, then her bra. After a pause while fresh memory cards were loaded into the cameras she then had to remove her thong followed by her suspenders, then her white plimsolls and finally her stockings.

Now she stood glorious in her nakedness, not ashamed or self-conscious but confident and assured within her beautiful body. The action of putting her hands on her head pushed her breasts forward and gave them an even more pert and pouting quality than usual, that was balanced by the curvaceous rearward swell of her bottom supported on the magnificent moulding of her hips, thighs and calves. Her womanhood was ripe and luscious between her splayed open legs.