Afghan Bound (17 page)

Time seemed to stretch on that Saturday – it certainly felt like the longest morning ever. David even made two breakfasts; one to satisfy his hunger, the other to use up precious minutes.

With a loud clatter the heavy doorknocker announced their arrival. David jumped. The time had come for him to put all that experience from building eleven and the International Club to good use.

Simon Johnson was a man in his mid-forties; his wife Emily had obviously not reached half that age.

‘Come on in,' he greeted them with a smile. ‘Make yourselves at home – a cup of tea?' He was gushing his words, but it was hard to stop the adrenaline rush. Somehow he had to sound more confident and less inexperienced. He noted Emily was wearing the knee-length dress he had stipulated in his letter, and that stockings clad her shapely legs. That made him feel better, and a little more in control; obviously they were willing to follow his instructions.

‘Please, Simon,' he pointed to the sofa, ‘have a seat. And Emily, you must sit here at the table.' Hers was a high-backed Queen Anne chair that insisted upon the correct posture.

He returned with the tea and sat opposite Simon. ‘You've given it all careful consideration?'

Simon nodded. ‘It's what we both want. Isn't it darling?'

‘Yes,' Emily said quietly.

‘Are those her things?' asked David, reaching to pick up a small valise. Before Simon answered he'd opened the case and examined the contents. All it contained were her cosmetics and a cheung sam; a high-necked round-collared dress with slits at the sides, often worn by Chinese women. Everything else was provided by the house, including boots, shoes, underwear, and any other necessities. It was an expensive wardrobe, hence the price of the training. David returned the valise and then gathered some papers from the davenport. He took them over to the table and sat next to Emily. She visibly stiffened as he pulled back a chair and motioned for Simon to join them.

‘Don't be nervous,' he soothed. ‘You do want to serve your husband, don't you? You are prepared to undergo this training?'

There was a definite edge to her voice that implied more than ‘yes'. It said: ‘I'm scared, I'm excited, I want it, but I'm not sure what it is'.

David spread the papers and took up his pen.

‘Before we start, Emily, I must ask you to sign this contract. It excludes me from any legal action you may consider at a later date – an indemnity. Not that you'll ever consider it,' he laughed. ‘It's just a precaution.'

Emily signed.

‘Now,' he continued. ‘On this sheet is a contract granting me total control of you in any and every way I decide.' He turned to Simon. ‘You do understand that I shall have penetrative sex with Emily throughout the period of the contract?'

‘Yes.'

‘Good. The moment you sign, Emily, you will forfeit all rights to what you do, say, and wear. All rights, in fact, to everything.'

The pen hovered, and for a moment it looked as if she would balk.

‘Do you want to be a good wife, Emily?' David urged.

‘I do, yes.' The pen lowered and with a flourish her signature was on the contract.

David blotted the ink and passed the paper to her husband.

‘Now for you, Simon.' His signature joined hers and a cheque was written for half the fee. The papers were then locked safely in the davenport.

‘That's the awkward business over,' sighed a relieved David. ‘Let's get on with what you're really here for. We'll discuss your requirements as we go along, Simon. But first I'll tell you what will happen in the next few weeks. Stand up please, Emily.' She did as he said. ‘Take down your wife's panties please – just to the knees.'

Simon ran his hands up the inside her dress and pulled her knickers down as David had instructed.

‘Good, that'll be fine.'

‘Shall I lift her dress?' he asked.

‘Emily can do that – you sit back down. Emily.'

Quivering hands gathered the hem and slowly eased the material upwards until the soft golden triangle of her mound was fully exposed. David studied her, then ran his hands between her legs, following the extent of the velvety down.

‘She's quite a hairy young lady. It'll have to come off, of course. I don't like anything to obscure my view of beautiful feminine lips. Besides,' he continued, ‘it would spoil the sight of her labial restraints.'

Emily's eyes widened and she bit her lower lip. ‘I – I don't know about that,' she stammered. ‘I don't know if I want you to do that.'

‘I'm afraid you have no choice in the matter,' said David. ‘I have a contract signed by both you and your husband giving me the right to do whatever I please. If Simon wishes you to be pierced between your legs then I shall do it. I insist on nipple pins as a matter of course, so you can look forward to that regardless.'

Emily looked at her husband for help. ‘No Simon,' she pleaded. ‘Not that; I don't want rings between my legs. They might show through my clothes when I'm on the beach or in a changing room or something. What will people think?'

‘What they will show,' put in David. ‘They will be the mark of a woman who is subject to her man's will. And you, Simon, will be the envy of every man who sees her.'

His words, however, didn't satisfy Emily. She pleaded again for no rings – beseeched almost – but Simon clearly knew he had to be strong.

‘Pierce both lips,' he directed.

Emily stood shaking her head, with her dress held up and her knickers around her knees.

David nodded his approval. ‘It's always best to have everything done,' he said. ‘It looks so much better that way; more complete. The Venus rings will really set off the nipple pins, and vice versa.' He ticked the piercing section of the sheet and moved on.

‘Do you have anal sex?'

‘No. I've asked often enough, but she refuses.'

‘Would you like to enjoy anal sex with her?'

‘Yes. Yes I would.'

Another tick in the appropriate box.

‘What about fellatio? Is she happy to give you pleasure with her mouth?'

‘She'll do it, but with little enthusiasm.'

David shook his head and tutted. ‘It looks like I have my work cut out with you, young lady.'

Emily swooned slightly and looked as if she might sit down.

‘Stay as you are,' David ordered firmly. ‘You will sit only when I say you can.'

She obeyed immediately. The atmosphere in the room had changed.

‘Now, bend over the table.' David's voice was insistent, leaving Emily in no doubt that her training had already begun. She nervously obeyed, laying over the edge of the table and supporting herself on her elbows. The two men stood behind her displayed bottom. David tugged her knickers down and off, throwing them on the table close to her face. He then folded her dress up her back and left it tucked beneath her armpits.

‘Have you considered your mark?' he asked his client.

Simon pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. ‘In your letter you suggested the family coat of arms, but I've had second thoughts. A friend of mine drew this for me. Will it be a problem?' It was a drawing of a knickerless pixie sitting cross-legged on a phallic toadstool. David wondered at the significance. ‘I just like it,' Simon said, seeing him study the sketch quizzically. ‘It reminds me of Tinkerbell out of Peter Pan. I loved that film from the age of eight. Do you think you can copy it?'

‘Yes, I can't see a problem with that. Where do you want it? On her bottom? Or her thigh, perhaps?'

‘I don't know, I can't make my mind up.'

‘What about her shoulder?'

Simon studied his wife thoughtfully before choosing the right buttock. David marked the position in his notes.

‘That's about it,' he announced, ‘unless you want to stay and watch her being shaved?'

Simon shook his head. ‘No thanks; I'd better go before I lose my nerve and change my mind.'

‘I wouldn't let you change you're mind,' David smiled. ‘I have a contract, remember?' He led Simon to the front door. Emily remained where she was over the table. ‘Now,' he said as he opened the door. ‘You know the rules. Absolutely no telephone calls, letters, or visits – no matter what the reason. I'll see you in a month.' He patted Simon reassuringly on the shoulder. ‘And don't worry.'

As Simon neared the top of the pebbled path David closed the door and returned to the sitting room, where he was greeted by Emily's welcoming bottom. He touched her gently between the legs, caressing her lips and the wispy hair that covered her pudenda.

‘Come and sit, Emily,' he said gently. ‘I want to talk to you.'

Emily stood up, allowing the dress to fall back into place. ‘Here?' she asked.

‘In the easy chair; that'll be fine.'

She sat down and waited while David poured them both a stiff drink. He passed her a glass, and then made himself comfortable on the sofa.

‘Over the next month,' he began, ‘I will show you how to behave in front of your master, for Simon is just that, your master. Until his return I will take his place and you will address me as such, and unless I specifically order it, no other title is acceptable. By the time Simon returns you will know how to address him and satisfy his needs. You will accept his command without question, and more than that, you will willingly carry out his every wish. Do you understand?'

She took a large gulp of her drink and nodded her head. ‘I'll try my best. I'll try to please you, and Simon.'

David gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Whenever I come into the room you are to stand, back straight, eyes respectfully lowered, legs slightly apart. If I tell you to do something, no refusal shall be tolerated. Absolute obedience is expected at all times.'

He set his drink on the coffee table. ‘Now let's get you shaved.'

‘Ah,' said Emily. ‘I was going to say to you about that, and about piercing my labia. I'm not too sure about it. In fact, it's probably best if I don't have it done – you understand.'

David rose and went across to a cabinet fixed against the wall. ‘Let me show you what I understand.' He swung open the doors to reveal a collection of canes and whips, including a prized sjambok he managed to obtain from a friend in South Africa. ‘I understand your husband brought you here for lessons in submission. I understand that you signed a contract. And I also understand my role in the matter. So get your backside out of that chair and up the stairs! Now!'

He swiped the beautiful and intricately worked rhinoceros whip ominously through the air. Emily, sufficiently persuaded, jumped instantly to her feet. The whisky slopped over the rim of her glass. She placed it on the coffee table, and then grew even more flustered when she realised it had left a ring on the polished wood. ‘Oh – I'm sorry.' She looked around for something with which to wipe the mess. ‘Oh dear, I—'

‘Do as I say!'

The sjambok guided the agitated girl up the stairs and into the bathroom.

‘Remove your dress,' ordered David, his voice having regained the composure lost during the earlier tension. ‘Then sit on the corner of the bath.'

The light cotton dress dropped from her shoulders, leaving only her straining bra to protect her modesty. Her inviting breasts heaved and swelled with her nervously excited breathing. She stepped into the bath and sat facing him, her pubic mound exposed to his glare.

He left the room for a moment to collect a spreader bar from a display case on the landing. He had several such cases in various rooms around the house. To a visitor they resembled a collection of medieval oddities. To the initiated their pristine and well cared for condition indicated their true purpose as modern day implements of restraint.

His return brought a gasp of alarm from Emily as she caught sight of the rubber pole with cuffs attached to either end. ‘What's that for?' she cried.

David lowered himself to his haunches and connected the cuffs to each dainty ankle, spreading her legs wide. ‘We don't want any little nicks on our first day, do we?'

Emily didn't answer; she stared open-mouthed at the cutthroat razor and scissors he removed from a locked vanity cabinet. ‘Pluh… please,' she eventually managed to stammer.

David ceremonially placed the razor on the side of the bath, and then set about snipping the soft hair away from between her quivering thighs. With his fingers he pulled and teased any loose strands that escaped the cold blades.

Emily's breathing increased as a searching finger probed and explored in a way normally reserved only for her husband.

Once satisfied that stage of the task was finished, David rinsed away the loose hair and began the pleasant job of soaping her mound. He performed the task conscientiously, massaging her thoroughly between and underneath. Very slowly he felt her relax as his firm and rhythmic fingers soothed away her trepidation.