Agony Aunt

Contents

Also by G.C.Scott
:

THE PASSIVE VOICE

HIS MISTRESS’S VOICE

A MATTER OF POSSESSION

‘Go to the cellar and fetch your chains and a leather strap,’ Harriet ordered Tom.

She crossed her legs, feeling the sensuous slide of her smooth nylon stockings. Her tight leather costume clung to the outline of her body, flattening her stomach and emphasising her shape. The tightly fitting crotch pressed against her sex. She was at once exciting and inaccessible and Tom knew he was going to be disciplined rather than rewarded.

1

Capturing the Iron Butterfly

Don’t waste any opportunity – that’s my motto, Harriet told herself. The trick is to recognise an opportunity. On the face of it this wasn’t one, but she had plenty of time to examine it. Not two hours ago she had been in her cellar workshop entertaining herself and two women friends with a little creative B&D. They were the victims (if that is the right word for the subjects of a highly diverting and pleasurable exercise) and she had been administering the discipline and generally controlling things. Now she lay bound and gagged in her own bed, as helpless as her erstwhile ‘victims’ had been.

Like everyone else who has ever been tied up, she had tried to get free as soon as her captors had left her alone. It hadn’t worked, and in her mind’s eye she now saw herself as she would be seen by anyone who found her: an attractive woman dressed in nothing but stockings and suspenders struggling in her disordered bed to get free of the ropes that held her prisoner. Her hands were tied in front of her but she couldn’t get at the knots. The men who had tied her were too clever for that. They had taken a piece of rope from her wrists down between her legs and up again behind her back, tying it around her waist so that her bound hands were held down against her mons veneris. She was unable to bring them to her mouth in order to use her teeth on the knots. And in any case she was gagged, a wad of cloth held inside her mouth by a scarf tied around her lower face and knotted behind her head. Her legs were tied at her knees and ankles. Finally giving up, Harriet rolled over on to her back and lay staring up at the ceiling as she considered her limited options.

She had already tried twisting and jerking at her bonds, but that hadn’t worked. She had discovered earlier that the rope between her legs touched her in a very sensitive spot. Her tugs and jerks had brought on several rather enjoyable orgasms as the rope rubbed against her clitoral area.

Harriet was not unduly worried by her predicament. For one thing, as a practising B&D person herself, she enjoyed all the erotic aspects of bondage even when, as now, she was the one who was tied up. Usually she had the job (if
that
was the right word) of tying others for their sexual pleasure. There was a surprising number of people who got their kicks that way, and she was much sought after for her enthusiasm and expertise in ministering to them. For another, she knew that Tom, whom she had trained as her servant/assistant, was due to come in that morning. When she didn’t answer the door he would let himself in and find her. That was something else her captors had doubtless thought of – they weren’t passing robbers who didn’t care what happened to their victims.

Harriet relaxed as she remembered the previous evening’s activities. She had arranged for the three ‘intruders’ to burst in on her while she was putting her two guests through their paces. The idea was to make the others think that strangers had found them while they were most vulnerable. Harriet thought that the ‘intruders’ would contribute to the ambience, playing the part of passing thugs so that the other two women could pretend that they had been taken by strangers. Harriet had even arranged for the three men to tie her as well, so as to lend an air of verisimilitude to the proceedings. They had done just that – but she hadn’t planned on becoming part of the entertainment herself. Once she had been made helpless, and before the three men turned their attention to the two guests for whom all this had been arranged, they had given Harriet a bit of the same bizarre sex she had planned for the other women.

They had stripped her down to her stockings and suspenders and then strung her up by the wrists to one of the many overhead hooks in her cellar. They had gagged her as well, so that when things took an unexpected turn she couldn’t give the game away. And things had taken such a turn almost immediately. Two of them had turned their attention on her, alternately lashing her with one of her own straps and then arousing her sexually until she couldn’t tell the difference between the pain and the pleasure. Then one of the men had entered her from behind while his companion had continued to lash her breasts and belly and the fronts of her thighs. At that point there
was
no difference between the pain and the pleasure.

And at that point Harriet had tried to shout ‘Oh God!’ but the gag had prevented her. She had only been able to squeal and snort as they made her come again and again. It had been a long time since she had been on the receiving end, and as they pleasured her a part of her wondered why she had let herself forget how good it felt to be sexually aroused while bound and helpless. It was possible to become too wrapped up in one’s work, she now told herself. But at the time she had been mainly occupied in coming. When the man inside her had reached around and begun to fondle her heaving breasts, she had come very near to fainting with pleasure. But the man with the strap had kept her awake as he lashed her belly and her straining thighs.

After that they had left her hanging by her bound wrists for a short time while she recovered. She remembered hearing the cries of her two guests as the ‘intruders’ turned their attentions to them as she had originally planned. Harriet hadn’t had the strength left to envy them – nor much time either. When the men came back for her she was almost dismayed. Surely they didn’t expect her to do all that again so soon?

But apparently they did. One of the three – she guessed it was Jean, but couldn’t be sure because they were all wearing dark ski masks – spread her legs and tied her ankles to either end of a broom handle. Then he lay on the floor between her legs while another of his companions slackened the rope that held her stretched tautly upright. The two of them guided her down on to the erection that was waiting for her. She didn’t do anything to make the task difficult for them.

Lying bound now in her own bed, where they had left her, Harriet smiled as she remembered how she had felt stretched as she took him inside her. She wished there was some way to repeat the experience there and then. The original sex fiend, that’s me, she told herself without reproach.

When she was fully impaled and squatting atop the man whose cock seemed to reach to her back teeth, the rope was tied off so that her upper body was erect and her full breasts jutted out invitingly to whoever was in the vicinity. They were just out of comfortable reach for the man between her thighs, but his companion knelt behind her and took one in each hand. He had begun by stroking her nipples until they stood stiffly erect and Harriet was panting with excitement. During all this time Jean kept still. He held her down on his cock with a hand on either hip. His thumbs massaged the taut muscles of her lower belly, moving her clitoris softly against his cock. Harriet felt a trickle of sweat run down her ribs and into her crotch. She glanced down and saw that her stockings were stained darkly in places by sweat from her earlier exertions.

That was some indication of how she had enjoyed the first session, but she was only marginally interested in that now. There was more urgent internal business, and it looked like she would be adding more dark patches to her stockings soon. The hands on her breasts were maddening. She felt as if she would burst from that alone, but at the same time she wished that Jean – or whoever it was – would do something. There was such a thing as too much restraint, and he was practising it.

Harriet’s solution was to raise herself by straightening her bent knees. At the same time she pulled herself up on the rope that held her arms over her head. ‘Ahhhhh,’ she sighed as she slid up the pole. With a deeper ‘ahhhhh’, she came back down. The fingers that rubbed and stretched her lower stomach muscles added their own excitement to her motion. This was going to be a long process, but Harriet knew that it would be better than the first. Second attempts so often were. And sometimes third and fourth, if she could last that long.

The three men she had invited for her guests’ benefit seemed to be more interested in her – perhaps because there were comparatively few occasions when she could be manoeuvred into the vulnerable position she was now in. Or maybe they found her more attractive – a pleasant thought but hard for her to believe. I’ll have to do this more often, Harriet told herself, before she lost interest in keeping mental notes.

As the arousal went on, Harriet’s cries changed pitch, the soft ‘ahhhs’ changing to sharper ‘ohhhs’ and the intervals between the cries becoming shorter as her climax approached. She cried out steadily in sharp exclamations of pleasure as she was shaken by her orgasms. The cock inside her and the fingers manipulating her breasts pushed her over the brink time and again. In one of her short lucid intervals she looked down at Jean. She could see from the expression on his face that he was trying to hold back so that she could enjoy herself. Harriet wanted to tell him not to bother, to come now, but her gag prevented any verbal encouragement. She caught his eye and nodded vigorously to tell him that she was ready, that he too could let go, that she was ready for – Oh God, here it came. Harriet lost herself in the waves of pleasure that swept her away.

She was having trouble catching her breath in the excitement, and she was tugging madly at the ropes that held her prisoner as she cried out. Dimly she was aware of Jean moving with her as his own climax took him. Harriet felt him pulsing inside her and she lost control for perhaps the tenth time. She mewed like a kitten as she came. Even afterwards she was shaken by small shudders, the aftershocks of her climax. Jean was patient, allowing her to enjoy them at her leisure, while his companion continued to tease her breasts and nipples until gradually she subsided and hung once more by her bound wrists. Tired as she now was, Harriet felt a small glow of triumph as she considered that she had been able to bring Jean to climax before her own resistance ended.

They had helped her dismount quickly, Jean holding her upright on her shaky legs while his companion untied the rope that had strung her up to the ceiling. But they weren’t done with her yet. The man lowered her aching arms and quickly brought the rope up between her legs, pulling her hands down against her mons veneris. The rope was pulled taut in her crotch and tied around her waist. As her bound hands lay against her pubic hair, Harriet could feel how damp it was. The rope sawed at her clitoris each time she tugged on it.

They untied her ankles from the wooden pole that spread them apart and led her to one side of the cellar where there were gym mats covering the floor. Then she was laid down on her back and one of the men tied her legs at knees and ankles. While she was left to recover, the men turned their attention on the two other women again.

Harriet twisted herself over on to her side, the rope between her legs providing some interesting sensations as she heaved herself about, so that she could see what the three men would do to her two friends. Even if she couldn’t participate in the action, she could still play the voyeur. She knew she would enjoy watching the other two being done, and she hoped they had enjoyed the show she had provided as much.