Folly (12 page)

‘I don't know. What would you recommend?' I asked her eventually.

‘Um … are these for your personal use or …?'

I decided to be frank with her.

‘Actually, I've just set up business as a dominatrix. So they are for my male clients.'

‘Oh!' Her eyes grew wide. ‘A dominatrix? Really?'

‘Really,' I assured her.

‘Where do you operate from?'

‘About fifteen kilometres north of here.' I pointed in the vague direction of where I thought north was.

‘Do you have a business card?'

‘Not on me. Why?'

‘I sometimes get customers asking about that sort of thing.'

‘I'd really appreciate it if you could pass on my phone number. And when I'm in the area again I'll bring business cards. Thank you so much.'

‘It's a pleasure.'

‘I'm sorry – I haven't asked your name.'

‘I'm Thandeka.'

‘Emma.'

We shook hands.

‘There is another lady who does what you do, who lives in Pretoria somewhere,' Thandeka said. ‘She's come in here a couple of times and she left cards, but to be honest, I didn't like her as a person. She's not nice. And she's very hard-core. I mean, she's always dressed up from head to toe in black leather, and the one time she actually brought her slave in with her on a leash. He was this little shrimp of a man and his eyebrows were shaved off.'

‘Good heavens,' I offered faintly.

‘You seem normal, though,' Thandeka said, smiling.

‘Well, I think I am.' Compared to my slaves, at any rate. And I'd never gone shopping with anybody on a leash. Nor did I want to.

Thandeka passed me a hard-covered address book and I wrote down my name and phone number under D for Domination.

‘So, regarding the sex toys,' she continued, ‘I'd take a variety – different sizes and colours, some stiff and some more flexible. Some people prefer the more flexible feel. And you could also look at these.' She took a box off one of the shelves. ‘These are anal plugs. The lady I told you about took a set of them so I think they must be popular with clients.'

‘Mmm,' I said, looking down at the box.

‘There are six in the box and they're all … different sizes, you see, small to very large …' Her voice tailed off.

I saw. For a minute, we stared in silence at the little conversation-killers.

‘Right. I'll take those, and – um – let's take that little dildo there, a stiff and a flexible medium one, a stiff and a flexible large one, and I also want that Oh-My-God sized one. I'm not going to use it, but I want to scare people with it.'

Thandeka laughed. ‘They will be scared when they see that monster. You mentioned you wanted to see the strap-ons?'

‘Next time.' I said firmly, deciding that the Judge would have to wait until I was psychologically prepared to harness myself to an artificial penis. ‘Just those, and some lubricant, please.'

‘What kind would you like?'

‘I don't know. What kind is the best? I've just been using
KY
Jelly.'

On the single client so far who'd had anything pushed up his bum.

Now Thandeka was frowning. ‘
KY
isn't the best lubricant for the purposes you describe. It's more suitable for vaginal use. The clients who use anal toys usually prefer this.' She took down a large tube from a display on one of the side cabinets. ‘This is a silicone-based lubricant which is very effective. The only problem is that you can't use it with silicone toys, like those two there, or you'll end up damaging them.'

‘Hmmm.' This was becoming more complicated by the minute and I was also getting the uncomfortable feeling that everyone in the world knew about silicone-based lubricants except me.

‘What you could do, I suppose, is what our escort agency clients do when they have to share toys. They put a condom on the toy before they use it, and then remove it afterwards. That also makes cleaning easier.'

‘And condoms won't be damaged by this silicone lubricant?'

‘Oh, no, they'll be fine.'

‘I'll take two tubes, then, and a big box of condoms as well. Thank you so much,' I said. ‘You've been so helpful. You're very knowledgeable. I guess you must see some interesting sides of life, with all the people coming into this shop.'

Ringing up my purchases, Thandeka laughed. ‘I'm sure you must, too, in your dungeon.'

Chapter 14

A
t lunchtime, I had another new client. The well-spoken black man who'd called me the day before had given his name as Mr Samuel Mashaba. To be truthful, after the rather eventful sessions I'd had so far and particularly following my debacle with Simon, I was far more worried than usual about being able to meet his expectations.

What would happen if I either injured or else failed to satisfy this client, too? I might as well hang up my whip there and then, I thought.

When I saw the dark, polished bonnet of his Toyota Prado easing through my gate, I don't mind admitting it, but I started to pray – and my misgivings were only made worse when I met the man himself.

Mr Mashaba exuded a quiet but tangible dignity. He was stockily built and immaculately dressed. Top brand names hugged his shoulders, encircled his waist, clasped his wrist. He greeted Goodness formally and although Goodness nodded respectfully in response, I had a feeling that inside he was saucer-eyed with incredulity.

We sat down at the table together, Mr Mashaba and I.

‘Have you experienced a domination session before?' I asked.

Mr Mashaba was rather reticent and very polite.

‘Not really,' he said, and I could see him trying to glance at the dungeon equipment to his right without making his curiosity too obvious.

‘Is there anything that you need or expect from the session?'

‘I think … just whatever usually happens.'

Oh, Lord, where was this one going to go? I needed to get the gist across.

‘Let me explain what the usual involves. In my dungeon, I am in complete control and you will do whatever I tell you to. You will, in fact, be my slave.'

I could feel my face just about glowing with embarrassment, all the more so because he was giving me his most respectful attention, his wellmanicured fingers laced together in front of him, just as he might have done if I was a would-be investment partner presenting him with a proposal in an air-conditioned boardroom.

‘I may ask you to put on women's clothes. I may ask you to perform certain tasks for me. And, of course, there will be punishment. What is your tolerance for pain, Mr Mashaba?'

He gave a tiny nod. ‘I can tolerate it.'

I explained the use of the safe word to him and then said, ‘If you'd like to step into the bathroom now, you may strip down. Either naked or to your underpants, whichever you feel comfortable with.'

You see, there I was, changing the rules already. Whatever you feel comfortable with. Words that I'd never thought I would utter within my dungeon walls, particularly not with regard to my clients' choice of clothing.

And it was just as well I did, because he came out in a pair of Calvin Klein undies which even in the muted light of my dungeon were so blindingly white that they left purple patches on my retinas when I blinked.

‘And now what happens?' he asked in a surprisingly small voice. I noticed him glancing at the shelves that housed my collection of vibrators, and I thought that his eyelid might have twitched.

‘Now you bend over.' I indicated the gym horse. ‘I'm going to give you a beating. We'll start out with some light punishment and take it from there.'

An uneasy silence filled my dungeon.

I honestly could not insult this man. Somehow, I could not find my mistress's voice.

Instead, and with no preamble, I raised my right arm and brought the whip down across his white-clad buttocks with what I felt was a reasonable amount of force.

My client's agonised yelp filled the room. He uncurled himself from the gym horse and crabbed away from me, staggering sideways across the grey-tiled floor while offering me a wide-eyed, incredulous stare.

‘Enough! Stop, please.' And, as I took a step towards him, he leaped back, bashing his elbow against the shelf with the vibrators on and sending one of them clattering to the ground. ‘No. Help! What was that word you said I should use? Amber? Amber!'

I lowered the whip and for one tense moment we stared at each other wordlessly.

Then Mr Mashaba started to laugh. Softly at first, shaking his head, and then louder.

The sound was infectious and before I knew it, I was smiling myself and then clapping my hand over my mouth to stop the giggles from escaping.

My client was bellowing with laughter now, propping himself up on his elbows against the horse. His shoulders were heaving and tears of mirth ran in shiny streaks down his cheeks.

He made his way over to the chair by the entrance door and collapsed down on it, flinging his head back as he tried to choke back his laughter.

‘I am sorry,' he said, when he could speak again.

‘That's all right.' I sat down opposite him and wiped my eyes.

‘You actually make money doing this?'

‘Well, so far, yes.'

‘People pay you to whip them?'

‘Yes, they do.'

‘Many of them?'

‘Quite a few.'

He rubbed a hand over his forehead. ‘Not black men, surely.'

‘Not so far. You're the first black man I've had.'

‘Well, I … I … All I can say is that I am embarrassed by my ignorance. I did not know … I could not believe, right until the moment when you actually hit me with that whip … that such a thing could be happening. I will try anything once. I am a divorced man, you see. But I kept on thinking – she must be joking. This cannot be true.'

While I made him a cup of coffee, Mr Mashaba got dressed. He returned to the desk, Gucci wallet in hand. Despite my protestations he insisted on paying the full price for his session. He peeled new notes off a much bigger stack, one by one.

‘I have taken up your time, after all,' he said, by way of explanation. ‘And to laugh like that … I think that in itself was worth the money. Now, every day, I am going to look at my colleagues in the boardroom and wonder to myself: Do they visit this type of place?'

His shoulders shook yet again as he entertained the idea.

When he walked out, I sat down and buried my head in my hands.

Despite the fact this session hadn't gone as planned, my overriding emotion was one of relief. At least there was someone else in this world besides me who was normal. I felt as if I had a bond with him. Mr Mashaba and I – two plain vanillas in a world that was otherwise crammed with very disturbing flavours.

When I raised my head and looked out of the window, I saw Goodness staring, immobile, at his departing car. Buttoning my trench coat tightly, I hurried over to him to reassure him that our latest client had made an error of judgement when booking in, and had not in fact availed himself of my services.

I didn't get very far with my explanation.

Goodness turned towards me and I saw the expression on his face was, in fact, one of reverence. He opened his palm halfway to reveal a neatly folded high-denomination bill.

‘He tipped me this,' he said softly.

Chapter 15

L
ater that afternoon I was in Shoe City, browsing for bargains in the larger sizes for my clients, when my phone rang. After glancing around to make sure nobody was too close by, I answered it. I thought the incoming number had looked familiar, and this was confirmed when I heard the caller himself.

‘Good afternoon, Mistress,' Simon said.

‘Good afternoon, Simon.' I found myself smiling. After the way our session had ended, I honestly hadn't expected him to call again.

‘You know who I am?' He sounded surprised.

‘Of course I do. How's your injury?'

‘Much better, thanks.'

Acting upon a hunch that I suddenly knew to be correct, I then said, ‘I loved the flowers. Thank you very much.'

‘Pleasure,' he replied, after a short pause. ‘How did you guess they were from me?'

‘Whipper's instinct,' I told him.

‘A dangerous talent.' I could hear the amusement in his tone. ‘Anyway, I'd like to make an appointment to see you again. Do you have space next Wednesday morning at ten?'

‘Yes, I do.'

Actually, with my Thursday already busy, I'd planned to visit Mark that day, but I now had a morning session with Simon and a new client in the afternoon. My diary was full and I couldn't help feeling a sneaking sense of relief at this. I knew it didn't reflect well on me that I'd rather offer dubious punishment services to paying clients than go and visit my husband – but sadly, this was the way it was.

By Wednesday, my dungeon was looking far better equipped. The new vibrators and the anal plugs were arranged on the shelf in a colourful sequence, with the green leviathan standing upright as the centrepiece. I'd made a mental note to hide it under my desk before the Judge arrived again in case he demanded I use it on him.

I'd replenished my supply of candles for emergency lighting and for dripping hot wax onto my clients' bare skin. I had bought three new pairs of heels in sizes seven, eight and nine. I'd also invested in a few extra items of lingerie in satin and lace.

After all that spending, I'd still been able to pay Goodness's wages, buy hay and cat food, do some grocery shopping and renew my advertisements for the next fortnight. All the essentials were now covered, and every cent that came in between now and the end of the month could be paid into the bond.

Simon arrived ten minutes early for his session and accepted my offer of a cup of coffee – no milk, two sugars – before we got underway. I noticed that he'd had a haircut since I last saw him. The shorter style looked good on him, I thought, as I handed him his cup. It accentuated the shape of his cheekbones and his strong, defined jaw.