Author's Note: Trying something a little different in this one. Experimenting with dialogue. Another story of non-consensual activities so please do not read if you don't like. Like my other stories, it will undoubtedly be a bit slow.
I seated myself opposite her, sinking slowly down into the deeply cushioned velvet luxury of the armchair she had indicated. The smiling hall porter who'd accompanied me silently placed the tray he was carrying onto the small glass-topped table between us, poured two cups from the coffee pot and departed closing the door behind him without a sound.
"Milk, sugar, anything to nibble?" She waved a hand graciously towards the tray.
I shook my head. "No thanks ma'am, quite happy with it just black". I looked at her with interest. She was small, petite and old yet there remained a definite aura of youth about her - an elfin impishness that made light of the passage of time. Wrinkles and age spots had tried but failed to eradicate the last traces what had once been a beautiful woman. The hair was silvery white now rather than the blonde of her youth but remained stylish and groomed falling softly around her shoulders. The hand that had gestured towards the tray was small and dainty, the fingers slender and devoid of rings or nail polish. Bright blue eyes, barely touched by the watery condition old age inevitably brings with it regarded me quizzically, and I thought, with perhaps a hint of amusement.
"You are aware of the agreement and the conditions for this interview and the assurances given on both sides, I assume."
I nodded. "They told, me", I replied.
"Good" She smiled, revealing a full set of gleaming teeth, almost certainly still all her own I thought then the smile faded. "I have kept and will keep to my part of the agreement, however, should you or anyone else play me false, I assure you that there will be consequences that you and they will regret, my contacts you understand...."
I nodded again emphatically this time. "Yes ma'am, I think, I mean I am sure everyone is clear on that. I have no wish to...to
"Become one of my.... well let's say one of my projects", she added with a mischievous grin, but her eyes were still cold.
"Precisely ma'am". I swallowed nervously, hesitated for a moment and then asked. "I heard or rather was told that you were no longer active yourself, that you'd retired?"
"Partly true". She sank back into her chair relaxing the rather grim and frightening expression of a few moments ago into a much softer one. "My Great Niece deals with most of the day to day things now, and she is a very efficient young woman". She laughed. "Very enthusiastic and absolutely hands on so I doubt you'd want to be introduced to her should any problems arise from this meeting! I keep an eye on things of course but only in an informal and advisory capacity. The business is now hers in all but name although I do still like to amuse myself from time to time".
I was looking at a woman who for a brief time had been one of London's most sort after and exclusive Professional Dommes until she took her business and talents in a parallel but much more profitable direction. One that I knew to be vastly more exclusive! A woman whose name was legendary but only within a minimal network of people. I knew something of her background and activities through my briefing, not a lot because I was not a member of that elite club, nor ever likely to be.
"Cat got your tongue?" she teased as I remained quiet.
"No ma'am", I decided to be honest, "it's just, just that your appearance took me a little bit by surprise that's all."
Her Face lit up in a wide smile, and she chuckled quietly. "So, what were you expecting then, a six-foot-six tall leather-clad Amazon brandishing a long bullwhip?".
"Oh at least seven foot" I retorted quickly. "Seriously though, I do admit to being a bit, perhaps more than a bit surprised.... given your reputation" I hastily added.
"Appearances can be very deceptive; you wouldn't be the first to make that mistake, not by a long way".
I thought I detected a slightly ominous tone in her words. I nodded in agreement. The petite elderly lady seated opposite was the absolute opposite of the figure my imagination had conjured up. Her depreciative description of my expectations had not been very far off the mark. Small, slight, diminutive even and dressed in a simple matching cream cardigan and jumper, modest red tartan skirt and a pair of comfortable looking cream flats, slightly worn and scuffed I noted. No makeup apart from perhaps a smidgen of pale pink lipstick and just a small jewelled brooch worn on her left breast, the only evidence of adornment.
Better make a start I thought to myself. Delicate she might look, but there was more than a hint of steel in both voice and eyes that was definitely at odds with the overall image. Not a woman to trifle with under any circumstances or to waste time with.
I coughed to clear my throat. "Pardon, perhaps we should jump straight in", I said. So, when did you first cross the line so to speak, from consensual activities to non-consensual?"
She laughed at my abruptness then paused for a moment looking towards the ceiling while recollecting her thoughts.
"Malcolm was the first," she said softly.
"He came to me one cold afternoon in early December. He'd phoned from the airport; Heathrow I think it was. I only glanced at his ticket when I threw it away, could have been Gatwick, I can't remember now. It wasn't very important at the time, and I was far too preoccupied with him!"
"You threw his plane ticket away!"
She shrugged her shoulders dismissively. "Why not, I couldn't use it, and he certainly wasn't going to make the flight, was he?"
"Who was he?"
"Just a nobody, one of the early generation of backpackers you might say. The big Boeing 747's had started to change the world back then. Travel and exotic destination were opening up to everyone at affordable prices. Places that once only the very rich could dream of visiting were suddenly available to every Tom, Dick and Harry!", she frowned for a second. "You know I can't even remember where he was going to fly to..."
"Other things on your mind", I suggested.
She laughed. "Oh yes, definitely other things on my mind as far as he was concerned".
"And no doubt he should or would have been concerned had he been blessed with the gift of foresight?"
"Oh my, yes, especially if he'd known what I had in mind for him".
"Why did he come to see you?"
"Because he was a submissive, or thought he was. No Internet back then so I was advertising in a couple of the more exclusive contact magazines that were available via mail order. Every so often the publishers would discreetly forward me a batch of letters that had been sent to them addressed to my advert number". She paused and waved one hand in a dismissive gesture. "Of course, 90% of them were just time wasters, sad losers using me to put their pathetic wank fetishes down on paper". She chuckles. "I used to think you could even see the cum stains on some of them. Even if they had included a stamped addressed envelope or some form of postal payment if they were from overseas, I never replied to most of them. Total time wasters. You either got a short half dozen lines of the 'please whip me hard Mistress' variety or a half dozen pages of near incomprehensible, misspelt complex fantasy! I remember one clown who wanted me to dress as a Disney Snow White and arrange for him to be sodomised by seven dwarves while in bondage...or fewer if seven was going to be too expensive to organise!"
We both laughed as she paused before taking another sip from her cup. "A few morons even included their telephone numbers and mind you; this was well before we all had cell phones. The idiots would give me suitable times when I could call and strict instructions as to what I should say if it were their secretary or, would you believe it, wife answered!" She said laughing.
"Did you ever call any of them?"
"Of course not. I wasn't about to waste my time and money pandering to some pathetic wimp who would probably only be interested in pulling on his prick when I called. Mind you, with one or two of those letters I was a touch tempted..." She suddenly grins impudently at me. "To call their wives that is...would not that have been fun?"
"Hello Mrs Smith" I quipped, is Johnny in, it's time for him to come for his spanking and can he bring his sexy French Maid outfit with him"
She laughed again. "Now wouldn't that have been fun....and wicked!"
"But not very profitable".
"No, back then my overheads compared to my income were quite high. West London is not cheap today and certainly wasn't back then either. Fortunately, over time I did build up a small nucleus of decent clients willing to pay my prices though".
"So, you weren't cheap? Sorry", I quickly added in response to the frosty look she gave me.
"I have never been... cheap, as you crudely put it. I charged, I suppose what some might have considered a premium price, but I like to think I gave full value for money. I took time over my appearance, plus I invested in top-class facilities and equipment. Back then there were not many suppliers of first-rate bondage and fetish gear. Even today there are not that many who manufacture really top end stuff although there are rafts of cheap trash available on eBay, Amazon and the like".
I nodded in agreement, and she suddenly laughed again before continuing.
"Had, I been some cheapskate tart we certainly wouldn't be sitting here now talking in a spacious private suite in this particular upmarket hotel. Indeed, had my equipment not been up to and beyond a certain standard I could possibly have spent many of the years between then and now as a reluctant guest in one of the countries overcrowded penal institutions!"
I nodded politely. "I can't see you in that situation".
"Neither can I", she said with a shudder. "Being rather favoured in the looks department back then and of a petite size I expect some over-sized ugly butch dyke would have claimed me for her own".
"Not just favoured back then", I said.
She inclined her head towards me at the compliment and flashed another generous smile. "Anyway, my equipment and confinement facilities were more than adequate both for their initial and later for more...more specialised usage. In fact, I doubt I would have been of interest to my future business partners and clients had my facilities been less than first class".
"Which brings us back to Malcolm" I prompted.
"Yes, poor Malcolm" she sighed.
"You feel guilt?" it was an important question I thought.
"No, not guilt" She answered firmly. "I don't think I have ever felt any guilt. Maybe a tinge of regret now and then" she mused. "Guilt, no. I have always had the knack of divorcing myself from...from what you might call the humanitarian or moral aspect. Occasionally there might have been a degree of emotional involvement developing, but I always managed to suppress such feelings, most of the time anyway".
"Most of the time?" I queried.
She paused again with that faraway look in her deep green eyes. "There were three over the years; two are still with me, I doubt that they could even function or exist now on their own".
"...and the other one?"
"He died, heart gave out one cold winter day when I was punishing him. Maybe I was being too hard on him given his age. My fault" she sighed. "I was in a bad mood that day, and he antagonised me, he should have known better, much better". She broke off and shrugged her shoulders. "Then again so should I perhaps".
"How long had he been with you?"
"Been with me?". She questioned in an amused tone. "You make us sound like an old married couple! You mean how long had I owned him?"
"Must have been about twenty years, maybe even a couple more, I forget exactly".
I blinked. "Wow, that's a long time".
She shrugged again. "Human animals tend to mirror their real counterparts in my experience. Horses and ponies can go as long as thirty years plus if well looked after, dogs and the like a lot less. I think it's something to do with the low posture and freedom of movement". She smiled thinly "I don't think anyone has ever carried out a study on it nor are they ever likely to. Not enough material and certainly no general access to it!"
"Owners must also play a significant part" I suggested.
"Of course, it always amazes me, given the price such beasts command how callously some owners can behave. There are those of course that can afford such behaviour and indeed enjoy it".
"Isn't that true off all of you?" I chided.
"Certainly not" she snorted angrily. "Most of us are no different to anyone else. If you pay a lot of money for something or go to a great deal of effort to acquire a particular item, then you value it. You don't break it in a tantrum at the first opportunity".
"True, but you do have to do a certain amount of 'breaking in', like Malcolm" I suggested. "You were saying he was the first."
"Would you like a top-up", she indicated the coffee pot and the nearby plates., "Or a nibble, they bake their own biscuits here you know?"
I smiled. "I am alright thank you", then I chuckled.
"What's so funny?"
"I suppose the situation, ma'am. Here I am taking polite afternoon tea or coffee with...with, well I suppose someone who most people would regard as a complete criminal sadist and we're talking homemade or rather hotel made biscuits!"
"Maybe" she half laughed tossing her head from one side to the other. "Is that how you see me?"
"Does that offend you?"
"No not really", she replied after a moment's thought. "I suppose that is what initially started me down this road. Cruelty, if we can call it, that becomes natural, second nature even after a while in my business. I obtain, I train, and then I sell. I suppose I have looked at myself for a long time now as a businesswoman more than anything else. There is a certain demand, and I supply, simply basic business practise."
"A very specialised business", I noted.
"True, very specialised indeed, very very specialised and I specialised more than most".
"Also, pleasurable?" I ventured.
"Highly, for me anyway, that's what first got me started".
"Which takes us back to the mysterious Malcolm again" I noted.
"Ah yes, Malcolm. Strange name for an American I remember thinking. You always expect them to be called Chuck or Hank or something similar. He'd written to me from the states via one of my adverts, don't ask me whereabouts, way too long ago for that sort of detail. He sent a picture I remember, might even still have it somewhere but heaven knows where! Nice looking young man, only around twenty-three or twenty-four, recently finished college and was going travelling to see the world. Not sure why he'd only just finished his education, I thought they finished earlier than that..."
I waited as she paused seemingly deep in thought.
"Anyway, I remember that I rather liked his letter. He told me he was a bit of a submissive and was experimenting. He'd apparently had a couple of not very satisfactory sessions in New York during a recent visit and wanted to try a European Domme. He was into bondage and a bit of mild CP as I recall". She broke off with a harsh laugh. "Mild!".
I looked enquiringly at her.
She smiled wickedly, her eyes sparkling. "He may have wanted mild.... unfortunately, he got a wee bit more than that...well, quite a lot more in fact!"
I must have looked puzzled.
"Malcolm was the catalyst between my initial occupation and the one I have followed for many years now".
She shrugged again. "A fortunate coincidence perhaps. Or perhaps fortunate for one of us but not for the other." She frowned thoughtfully for a moment again. "You were sort of right a moment ago when you called me a sadist...no don't apologise; you were on the right track. One thing I had discovered was that I liked...how shall I phrased it? I liked pushing the boundaries of my clients; I got a thrill from that."
"What they call Edge Play" I suggested.
"That's what they call it today" she agreed. "I don't think we had a term back then. My cellar dungeon, my training room as I called it was virtually soundproof. I know because I took a record player down there and cranked up the volume full blast. Made an awful din but I could barely hear it upstairs. My house was an old Victorian end of terrace one, couldn't hear a thing outside". She paused again and then shook her head. "I can't for the life of me remember what record I was playing but it was loud, dam loud!"
"So down in the 'Playroom no one could hear you scream".
"Well, certainly not me. I may have raised my voice from time to time, but I was never the one doing the screaming", she chuckled.
"But Malcolm did?"
"Oh yes, I made Malcolm scream, and dance and beg and do a whole lot more..."
"We're getting ahead again".
"Quite. I found after about eighteen months that what had started more as a way of supplementing my earnings as a dancer was becoming both my main and favoured source of income. A whole lot easier than prancing around on some freezing cold stage six nights a week and twice on Sundays during pantomime season! Anyway, I was on the wrong side of twenty-five, and my legs were not quite as enthusiastic for the stage as they had been. I was also enjoying the sexual side of it. Beating and humiliating slaves made me hot and wet...very wet. I'll admit to something now, something I have never told anyone else".
She laughed again; it must have been the look on my face.
"It's not that much of a major revelation. I'm...well, I am not going to tell you how old I am, but would you believe that up to today I have only ever had one male penis in my vagina. Just the one and that only once. It hurt as I recall, hurt a lot and I remember thinking at the time, if that's sex then you can keep it. My one and only romantic dalliance, if you chose to call it, that was with one of the male dancers in our troupe. Gerald his name was. Always posing in front of the practise mirrors, vain as a peacock but I briefly thought I was in love with him. Stupid girl. Am I boring you?"
"No, not at all", I said quickly.
"Anyway, to cut a very long story short, my antics as a Domme frequently made me wet, and it wasn't long before I discovered the delights or oral sex. I have never looked back since nor had the remotest desire ever to allow myself to be penetrated by a cock again" She paused for a second then winked suggestively at me. "Not that I am totally against penetrative sex just so long as it was me doing the penetrating with a strapon! I've busted many virgin holes in my time, and not a single one was willing!"
"No", she laughed. "He got lucky at least in that sense. It was a bit later that I started down that highly entertaining road. No Malcolm served mainly to satisfy my first lust, that of using my more punitive toys to arouse myself. I found out fairly quickly that most of my sessions if not all of them left me feeling highly unsatisfied. I got hot and wet whipping the arse of some helpless jerk, but I could never go on and achieve the sort of satisfaction that I wanted. It was so damn frustrating; I wanted to whip some poor guy raw, whip him till he lost his voice and could scream and beg no more, whip him till he fainted then revive him and whip him again and again! I wanted to hear those screams and get off on them, but no...it was always, no more Mistress, please that's enough, stop I've had enough, and so on...."
I nodded in understanding.
"We digress. Malcolm rang me quite unexpectedly one afternoon long after his initial letter. I always gave the few people to whom I replied a special customer number. I remember asking him to hold while I referenced his number to his letter". She paused again for a second. "Strange how things work out. He was in transit and had quite a bit of time to kill before his onward evening flight. I'd just had a regular client cancel on me right at the last moment. If that hadn't happened then Malcolm would have had a very different life. Instead I gave him my address".
"And he came?"
She nodded and gave a slightly sinister laugh. "Oh yes the poor wretch came, we'll he visited me. I am not sure 'came' is an appropriate term under the circumstances. He certainly did not 'cum' when he was with me, nor I suspect much, if ever after he left! You look puzzled."
Sorry" I said, "I just don't understand the connection?"
"Between Malcolm and my present occupation, you mean?
This time I nodded.
"Give me a few more minutes and all will become clear." She paused again to compose herself and took a deep breath. "I kept Malcolm. I am not quite sure when the idea came to me; I think perhaps it had been growing for a while in my sub-conscious. The idea of actually having a 'for real slave', a slave I could whip as much as I wanted, my slave, my prisoner, my toy. A crazy idea and certainly an unplanned one. Going in an instant from a law-abiding young woman to a total criminal in one short jump. Does that shock you?"
"It might" I admitted if I wasn't aware of everything else.
She laughed again. "Cute, aware of everything else? I don't even think we've scratched the surface of my depravity yet!"
"So, what triggered the...the acquisition?"
"Acquisition, I like that, sounds so much nicer than kidnap don't you think? She paused yet again to cast her mind back many years. "The term 24/7 hadn't been invented back then, but that's what I wanted. We'll maybe not 24/7, but I wanted something or someone to hand whenever I wanted and to be able to do whatever I wanted and for as long as I wanted to it without any limitations."
"You could have advertised for such a slave" I pointed out.
She shook her head. "I think not. The term 24/7 is a misnomer; there are lots of submissive out there who indulge themselves with nightly wet dreams of serving a Dominant Mistress or being held captive by such against their wishes 24/7! Believe me; not a one would hang around for more than a day once they faced the reality of such a situation. I know, oh yes, I most certainly know
She paused again for a few seconds and then continued. "It was during the interview with Malcolm that your 'trigger as you put it was pulled. I prided myself on being a conscientious Domme and always satisfying my clients. Those who came for their first visit, I would always take some time to get to know them a little bit and their interests, I was fair, I never charged for that time, I wanted them to feel relaxed. I gave him a can of beer, he sat on the edge off my sofa, he was nervous, very nervous I remember".
I grinned "Well he had good reason to be didn't he or would have had he known" I quipped.
She ignored me and continued. I don't even think she heard me so focused was she on that old memory. "He was very shy, it took me a while to get him to open up but then the floodgates opened wide, and he started talking, gushing almost. In less than half an hour I knew his complete life story. He was single, no family, no girlfriend, no employer, nothing left behind. He had his plane tickets, passport, money, travellers' cheques and a massive backpack leaning against my sideboard, although in those days we called them rucksacks as I recall. He even had my original typed response to his letter that contained my phone number in his hand when he came through my front door. He'd come from the airport by public transport, not in a taxi. He wasn't even expected anywhere; not a single nights accommodation booked anywhere. Only one person in the entire world knew where he was, and that person was me. A bell sounded in my head".
I flicked a fingernail against the rim of my cup. "Ding", I added.
"Quite, several loud dings in fact. Number one, he was cute and good looking in a slightly androgynous way, bigger than me but not that tall, quite slim, not waif-like but no six-pack muscle hunk. That certainly rang up the dollar sign! Number two, I had two empty cells downstairs adjacent to my 'training room, through a stout door and off a short passage. Two cells I had fitted out for the occasional 'high paying' client who booked an overnight or even longer stay. They had very secure doors, no windows and lots of firmly embedded hooks and eyebolts in the walls. There was also a small washroom down there for the post session refreshing for my clients...or as it turned out, an added convenience for me. Number three, I was feeling horny, really horny and wouldn't it be wonderful to be able to whip and whip and whip and whip and...."
"I don't quite get number one, the dollar sign" I interrupted.
She eyed me a little coldly annoyed by my interruption. "I said a while back it would become clear, didn't I"?
I nodded. "Sorry".
"Malcolm triggered something in me that had been dormant. I made up my mind in that brief half-hour interview that his global backpacking aspirations were over before they'd even begun. To put it crudely my cunt had caught fire, and he was the one I was going to use to extinguish it, no exceptions, no buts, no reprieve. Besides, he was also going to add considerably to my bank balance....no more freezing my butt off in ice cold rehearsal rooms. We were still talking, and I was smiling sweetly and telling him how much he would enjoy himself with me. Lier, he wouldn't enjoy anything, but I certainly would.
She paused again and looked at me then tossed her head back again. "Number one was something that had happened a few weeks before, and this is where the connection is. As a Domme, I always got more than my fair share of cranks writing in response to my adverts as you can imagine. Most were pathetic, one or two frightening or even threatening but occasionally one was interesting. I sent a response to a lady who wrote to offer me a large sum of money, a considerable sum of money for my services. I was ninety per cent sure from her brief note that it was another crackpot letter but only ninety because there was a baited hook along with the letter, a hook in the form of five crisp one hundred US dollar bills. The address on the return envelope was a Paris one, the French equivalent of a box number I guessed".
"A lot of money" I observed, "even today five hundred dollars is a lot. You replied I take it?".
"Naturally, I was, of course, a bit or more than a bit wary, but I did reply. I was reluctant to send my phone number out in the usual way, I wasn't overly happy and definitely suspicious, but as you just said, five hundred dollars certainly got my attention, a lot of money and back then it was one hell of a lot of money. The writer had said she would be in London on various dates. I chose the furthest one some three weeks on from when I received her mail and suggested we meet in a coffee bar that I generally visited a few times a week, a decent one, plenty of places to sit unobtrusively and yet still feel secure. I gave her a time mid-afternoon when it was usually quiet and told her where I'd be sitting. Her letter had said to keep the five hundred even if I wasn't interested. That had certainly piqued my interest. People wouldn't throw money around like that unless they were both rich and serious. Anyway, there was also a built-in safety catch. She had included a number I could ring, the number of one of my...my competitors if you put it like that who also had a dungeon a few streets away. She suggested that I might like to talk to that Mistress and ask her if Celine was genuine."
"I don't blame you for feeling suspicious," I said, "All sounds a bit odd to me. Did you call the given number, and did she actually turn up for your meet?".
"Quite, those were my thoughts exactly and yes I did call, and yes she did turn up. My professional colleague was quite helpful if a little vague. Oh my, she said yes Celine was genuine, very genuine indeed and that she had done some highly profitable business with her, but I had better keep an open mind if I decided to meet with her a very very wide-open mind and if terms like non-consensual or extreme bothered me then call your meeting off. That was all I could get out of her, she just laughed and said it's not something I can talk about, you'll find out when I pressed for more details.
Curiosity and greed got the better of me so three weeks later at the appointed time I was sitting in my usual booth sipping a cup of cappuccino when a slim very elegantly dressed young woman approached. Younger than me, much younger virtually a teenager I thought but on closer inspection realised that she must be early twenties or thereabouts. She wore a stylish wide-brimmed hat with a delicate black veil partly concealing her face but politely pushed up the veil as she approached. Straight out of Vogue, top class model looks the sort that does not need to go near a makeup pot to look sensational. I was not a fashion expert back then, my income was not large enough to indulge myself then as I can now, but I was savvy enough to smell money, class and elegance and she reeked of all three and much more. I will speak for her if you don't mind, it will be easier for me to recall things?"
"Not at all".
"You rang Madam Black," she asked, must have recognised me from my photo in the contact magazine. I nodded." I am sure she vouched most positively for me. May I sit down?" she spoke with a delightful soft French accent, but her English was top draw BBC news announcer perfect.
She sat down opposite me and lit a long black fancy cigarette without asking. People did back then; almost everyone smoked everywhere. Glancing around she espied a waiter and snapped her fingers in a very imperious way and ordered a coffee like mine.
A pair of cold grey eyes stared at me as if assessing my worth. She blew out a long stream of blue scented smoke. "May I inquire what did Madam Black tell you?". Her voice was level, neither friendly nor hostile merely curious.
"She told me that she'd done some profitable business with you in the past and that she could vouch for you being very genuine. She wouldn't give me any details". I frowned. "She said something odd, something about my not being bothered about extreme or non-consensual, I didn't understand that".
Celine said nothing and continued to gaze at me. I recall being slightly chilled by that look. She was young, but there was something about her, something frightening that spoke of confidence, of power and authority and an underlying hint of something else, something that made me feel somewhat afraid of her.
"I really should stop," she said stubbing out the hardly smoked cigarette. "It is not good for the teeth, and my doctor says even worse for the lungs. He showed me some terrible pictures in a medical book!" She looked at me with an expression half amused half sombre. "Madam Black told you just enough. I have done business with her twice; she was extremely well paid, that generous remuneration covered both the cost of the goods that she sold me and also buys her silence. Do you know why I wrote to you?"
I shook my head.
"Two reasons. One, an associate of mine who likes to switch occasionally visited you some months ago; no don't ask for his name; I won't tell you. He recommend that you might prove useful and that you had excellent facilities. Two your adverts then caught my attention. I have some suitable contacts both in shall we say the dungeon and the more traditional bedroom professions, in numerous major cities. Your adverts stood out enough to be of interest."
She suddenly laughed. My puzzlement must have been showing on my face. She leant forward across the table and smiled while looking directly into my eyes. A manicured slender finger was raised to her lips in the global gesture of silence and then moved across to my gently caress my lips in the same gesture. "You are one of us," she said quietly, "I can always tell. I knew as soon as I saw you sitting there. I always know, and I have never yet been wrong".
"One of us?"
Celine suddenly sat back in her chair and lit another of her black cigarettes, slowly exhaled a long stream of blue smoke then reached up and removed the wide-brimmed hat, placing it delicately down on the table by the menu and condiments tray.
"I buy and sell people", she said in a simple almost matter of fact way," then took a sip from her cup. "This is very good coffee, excellent in fact".
I was flummoxed and somewhat bewildered and not by her praise for the coffee although that's all I could think of to reply to. "It's the beans, they...they mix and grinds them, grind them I mean in-house, real coffee, not bought in stuff, real coffee" I stammered,
"Ah yes real," she said with a wicked smile. "Reality is always so much more pleasurable than mere fantasy is it not...or perhaps you have yet to find that out, oui?"
Chapter Two (added: 2019/03/25)
Once again, she paused, her eyes distant and I knew that she was no longer in this room with me but had momentarily travelled back through the years to a London coffee shop that had probably long ceased trading. Not far from where I sat there was an antique looking carriage clock on the ornate mantelpiece above the now covered over fireplace, mute testimony to the age of the hotel. I was conscious of how loud its ticking was in the stillness.
"Coffee" she suddenly said coming out of her reverie with a chuckle. "That's all I could think about; I was so...so".
"Flabbergasted" I offered.
She laughed aloud. "That's a grand word that I haven't heard in many a long year but yes very apt. Yes, I was flabbergasted as you have so succinctly suggested". She frowned a little. "Maybe I should have been forewarned from what little Madam Black had told me, but even so......"
Once again, we entered into a period of silence other than the loud ticking which somehow, I could not now block out. I let it run on for a brief period then coughed politely. "I suppose Celine then went on to elaborate somewhat?"
She flashed a wide smile at me and chuckled again. "Oh yes, I'll say she did. Indeed, more than I would have expected at such a strange first meeting. How she knew that she could trust me, I'll never know. Maybe she did possess that instinct she'd mentioned as to who would fit in with that certain unique group of people".
I nodded. "One of us?". I said trying to put some questioning emphasis on the 'us'.
"I don't think I will go into too much detail in that direction at the moment, maybe later or at our next meeting..."
I nodded again.
She chucked again. "Do you remember that 70's or was it 80's BBC comedy series, Yes Minister, Yes Prime Minister?" she suddenly asked.
"Very good, very funny and well written, one of my favourites."
"Mine too. One of us!" She laughed. "I remember there was one episode where the Prime Minister found out that the previous Head of the Intelligence service whom, everybody in the upper echelons of the extremely prim and proper private school educated British Civil Service had naturally assumed was 'one of us'. Actually, revealed in his memoirs after his death that he'd been 'one of them' all along, a Russian agent."
"I remember the episode, very amusing".
She shrugged. "It just popped into my mind then when you repeated the term that's all. In a way sort of appropriate because I was to find out that there was an awful lot of those so-called 'prim, proper, respectable and highly placed' powerful people encompassed within the term 'one of us'. Once more she trailed off into thoughtful silence.
I waited and then involuntarily glanced over again at the clock.
"No, no not at all, it's just..."
"I know, I know. The old woman is rambling yes, and you want to focus on the...well shall we say the 'meaty' bits. Well, so we shall, let me reload my thoughts for a second. Back to Celine, I think".
"In the café?"
She nodded and began to talk again.
She sat there quietly smoking her second cigarette and watching me with a calm slightly quizzical look. I wasn't at all sure what to say. My brain sort of tumbled things over like clothes in a washer. What had she said, and that other mistress told me, extreme, non-consensual, buying and selling people, generous remuneration, buying silence? "Buying and selling people," I eventually repeated rather blankly.
She nodded and smiled a slightly sinister cruel smile and then chuckled. "Well, maybe not quite. In the crudest form yes. To perhaps be a touch more accurate I buy people and then sell slaves and animals that once were...shall we say those very same people."
My brain was still in neutral. I did not understand what she meant at all and my incomprehension must have shown for she laughed again. I remember she had a rather deep roguish laugh somewhat at odds with her elegant appearance and seemed easily amused.
"Surely in your profession, you have heard rumours? Non! Well maybe not, security is taken very seriously, but of course, there are always whispers perhaps in the general fetish world. Whispers that not all fantasy is fantasy! Not advisable of course to repeat such whispers and action has had to been taken in the past to...to ensure such whispers grew no louder. Did you ever hear of Divine Valentine, American, quite well known a few years ago, used to be very active in New York?"
I shook my head.
"No, almost anyone who was anyone had shared her bed, for a price" Celine stubbed her cigarette our rather forcibly. "Well, as I say, used to be very entertaining company for those who could afford her prices but the stupid whore decided to whisper a bit too loud even though she'd been very well paid and even granted the privilege of visiting some of her ex-clients. That sort of visit should always guarantee that lips remain tightly sealed." Celine snorted. "She got greedy, stupid bitch and wanted to do more than whisper she decided she wanted to talk, unfortunately for her; she made the usual mistake of trying to extort money before she tried talking to the wrong people. It doesn't happen often but sometimes it does, and action has to be taken, quickly! They never seem to realise that whatever precautions they have taken can always be negated if you have the appropriate contacts. Strange I think!"
I didn't have a clue what she was talking about, and my confusion showed.
"She's not dead," Celine said simply then laughed again. "Your face, such a picture". She turned and snapped her fingers again. "More coffee s'il vous plaîte."
A waitress came over to take the order. I found that I was trembling slightly, I was afraid, afraid of this waif of a girl in front of me. Somehow there was something about her, something frightening and hadn't she just said, "She's not dead". What had I got myself into?
Celine was amused. "Don't worry Cheri" she chided. "As I said, I always know at once who I can trust". She broke off frowning. "Who or whom" she mused. "Sometimes English can be so confusing".
"Your English is perfect, but." I took a deep breath. "Are you saying, I mean are you telling me that you actually...sell people, real people, sell them - like old time slaves I mean and that American girl, I don't understand?"
There was a pause while the waitress brought the two coffees over to us. Celine paid her with a note and impatiently waved her away indicating to the gratified woman to keep the generous amount of change. She looked at her watch, a very expensive looking one I noted.
"I do not have a lot of time; it was convenient for me to meet with you today as I needed to be in London yesterday. I will, therefore, be briefer than I had planned so I will explain if you will listen".
I remember nodding. I recall a part of me was screaming at me to stand up and get out of the café, but another internal voice was saying no, sit, stay, listen and that one seemed louder. I sat and stayed.
"I work for my father in France. He is a very important man, a politician; you might even recognise him were I to show you a picture...no don't interrupt me" she held up a hand. "Yes, I know you were going to say that 'you are not that well acquainted with French politics', that matters not. My father is also wealthy, very very rich and I could say very many times over. He was not always a politician, but money can buy anything especially votes. He was and indeed still is...how you say a bandit, a criminal, yes, I know, all politicians are criminal yes...but he is highly respected these days and has influence, much influence and power, power in politics and even more power from his numerous lucrative enterprises."
She paused to take a mouthful of coffee and light the third cigarette. "One of those lucrative enterprises, indeed by far and away the most profitable involves dealing in slaves". She stopped abruptly to look at me intently, one slender finger absently raised to remove a shred of tobacco from her lower lip delicately.
"Slaves?" I said somewhat incredulously and even went as far as giving a little laugh. That wasn't appreciated.
"Slaves" she repeated a little coldly but quite calmly.
"Oh yes, and how many of these so-called slaves do you have?" I inquired in a slightly condescending tone.
"Six, but that's not counting my animals" the answer came straight back at me then she took another sip of coffee, placed the cup carefully back on its saucer and looked me full in the face to await the next response.
"Of course, that is my main interest. My father, he prefers his boys; he always did even when my mother was alive. I forget how many he has now, five maybe six down in the cellar of the Chateau I expect."
My bewilderment must have shown on my face for she smiled and then laughed again. "Slavery has always existed you know since the dawn of time. The strong and the rich have always enjoyed the ownership and servitude of those less fortunate. People assume that such a thing ended years, eons ago but not so. It exists in the world today especially in many parts of Africa and the Arab world, often quite openly in some places. In our case, that is to say, those of us who have both wealth and power can also enjoy the same privileges of ownership and servitude. It is our right, our destiny just as it is the destiny of certain others less fortunate to serve us as we desire."
I spoke slowly. "Are you telling me, telling me for real that you own slaves, I mean for real slaves...like, olden days like on the plantations, like in Roman times I mean, it's crazy, crazy!"
"Do I look crazy?" She frowned and then suddenly smiled again. "Well maybe this silly hat was a crazy choice, I was in a hurry, but I do like the veil. No, I am not crazy or mad or insane or anything else. I am just a wealthy sensual perverse woman who happens to be in the modern slave trade business, a business I very much enjoy. Much more fun than typing, teaching or nursing" she added with another friendly grin and far less tedious, "and you are getting interested are you not?"
She was right. I was interested. A small part of me was still screaming to head for the exit, but most of me was beginning to find this ridiculous scenario rather fascinating. Here I was sat in a West London coffee shop calmly or relatively calmly having a conversation about modern slavery, buying and selling people!
"I...I still don't understand. Animals, boys, what do you mean? Are you talking about people...people trafficking? I appended a term I remembered from a recent newspaper article about illegal immigration.
She pursed her lips. "Not in the sense you mean. I am not talking about little brown men from India or Pakistan trying to get across your English Channel for an assumed better life. She looked through the plate glass windows into the busy street outside her eyes momentarily following a red double-decker bus. "I wonder how many of them do feel that they have found a better life" she mused.
I waited toying with my coffee cup. I had a sudden yen for one of her cigarettes. I'd given them up a couple of years ago more for financial than health reasons. Strange, I hadn't felt the urge to smoke for ages until now. I resisted the temptation although I was sure I would have found it somewhat calming and calming was what I felt I needed right now.
"People it is not a term I recognise, not as you might mean it. That fat ugly waitress over there she is people likewise those two old businessmen by the door. People they are and will remain. Now instead take that couple sitting by the middle window. Young, attractive and very healthy looking. I like that long blond mane she's got and those muscles he's showing." I noticed her pink tongue flicked out to lick around her ruby red lipstick lips briefly. "Yes, I do like them. To me, they are merchandise, not people. Once they belong to me, they are no longer 'people' but merely property to be bought and sold, then used as desired. People as such no longer enters into it. Cruel maybe but that is how it has always been and for some of us and always will be. I have no feelings, no sentiment, no pity". Her voice trailed off as though for a moment as if she was reassessing herself then she turned back to me.
Her eyes looked at quite frankly. "My...my associate shall we say who visited you noticed you got a little too carried away during his session. You enjoyed beating him; he could see it in your eyes, sense it, even smell your desire to go that much further. Now tell me" She jerked her head in the direction of the couple by the window. "Tell me that you wouldn't love to have him or even her or even both screaming under your whip, begging to satisfy you in every way you could ever desire. That little blonde bitch going down between your legs desperate to please you lest you reach for your whip again. No don't answer I can see it in your face."
She was right. I did suddenly feel a sharp attack of the hots, and for a second or so I gazed at that innocent couple imagining having free rein with them in my dungeon. My fantasy ended abruptly as she laughed again.
"You are far to open" she scolded. "Your face tells me everything just as it did to my friend."
Wow" I retorted, you are serious, aren't you?
"Naturally, my time is valuable of course, but suitable new contacts are always worth my time".
"Not sure about the blonde though, not my scene but the muscles in the t-shirt"? I joked.
She shrugged indifferently. "A well-trained submissive tongue is just that, male or female may matter little as long as it serves and strives to the utmost to please its owner. However, we all have our little peccadillos; mine is primarily with my animals my fathers with his boys."
I must have looked a bit alarmed at the latter because she suddenly laughed and quickly qualified what she meant.
"No, I am not talking about my love of animals in that sense, well not for me anyway nor of male children. My father's private sexual preferments are for handsome young men but of a petite size and stature. A total contrast to himself. His old nickname was Bluto you know the Popeye cartoon villain." She laughed. "He does look similar especially on his yacht with his captains' hat on and a day's beard decorating the big brutes chin. He calls the young men 'his boys' and does so enjoy playing with them. I am always on the lookout for fresh ones for him" She broke off to laugh again. "I do believe that is why he lets me do this job; I know better than anyone else just what type to get for him".
"What does he do with them," I asked way to naively I realised immediately for she roared with laughter this time.
"My all this time in your profession and you have asked me that! Maybe you are a soft pussy cat, after all, Oui? What do you think he does with them? Play football on the beach, take them out for a few beers to chat up the girls in the cafes?" She laughed again and leaned across the table towards me. "He fucks their tight little bottoms until they squeal like the piglets they are of course, silly!"
She settled back in her chair smiling at me. "Always, they always start squealing long before they get any loving from his big...how you say in English slang, prick, dick, cocky?"
"All of those would suffice."
"Bon, one is always learning and improving. English is such a good language for dirty words" She frowned. "Try swearing in German, and you've forgotten why you were swearing before you've finished pronouncing the words! But now I forget my...what you call it?"
" Thread" I prompted.
"Ja das ist gut". She laughed again and winked. "I tell a fibber, that's about all I know" she admitted. "Yes, they always squeal for him. He has hands like...in English?" she paused again frowning then made a motion downwards with both hands.
"Hands like shovels or a spade, for digging," I said mimicking the motion.
"Ah oui, huge, first he catches them, they cannot escape him, no escape ever from his fun room and no clothes on them. No escape and then he drags them to his chair and over his knees then very big long painful spanking. No escape, no release, just big hands up down up down and lots and lots of squealing. He needs no whip just his hands. Very amusing for him and for me to watch but very painful for them".
She looked at me and laughed again. "My English is not so good when I get excited, I think, but I suspect, no I see that you are also feeling the same, non?"
I remember nodding. I did feel something of a hot flush and a definite stirring in my pussy. This was a window into a very different world, a world apparently without rules where the norms were permanently suspended. A frightening world but also a fascinating one and one that was beckoning to me and I suddenly shivered. Cold, no. Anticipation, excitement perhaps, because I already knew that where that opening led, I would follow. Was this girl for real? Instinct told me she was.
"But none of them are willing" I exclaimed.
"Of course, not silly. Where would the fun be in that! They are not even the sort that like the love of other men if they were so that way then they would not amuse my father. He is like them, he likes women and not men, but for special fun, he also loves his sweet little boys, I think he sees them different, not as men perhaps. He is very big, huge, they are like little...little delicate dolls in his hands, and he loves to play with them. But of course, he plays rough, too rough sometimes when he gets excited, and then his toys get broken especially those that find his cocky a bit too grand, big I mean and with too, what is the word, too much...?". She held both of her hands out palms toward me and made a quick repetitive pushing gesture.
"Vigorous" I suggested then frowned. "Broken? How do you mean broken?
She gave a casual shrug. "They are small and weak, he is big and powerful, always much too strong and big for them. They break like all toys. I tell him be careful, be kind, be gentle but he gets excited and forgets and so..." She broke off, picked up a rolled-up serviette in both hands and twisted it. "they break, they scream, they bleed too bad to be fixed up". She sighed. "It keeps me busy finding new toys for him, too busy I think, too much travel, I miss my animals".
I remember there was or seemed to be a long silence while I took in the full meaning of that phrase 'they break'. It was so...so casual the way she said it and with such indifference. Did she mean...surely not?
I looked across at her, so young, so chic, so composed sitting there taking a sip from her coffee cup and gazing at something through one of the large plate glass windows. Yet, had she just been talking about kidnap, rape and savage sodomy and even what sounded unless I was mistaken, cold-blooded murder?
"Animals?" I asked partly to break that silence, partially to cover the confusion I felt and somewhat out of curiosity.
She turned back to look at me gently placing her cup back on its saucer. Her eyebrows raised in a question. "You are still seated?" she asked then chuckled. "Not running away to find one of your nice pointy hat gendarmes to tell about me?"
I shook my head.
"Voila" she exclaimed triumphantly clapping her hands quietly together. "You see, was I not correct, I was right, I am always right, I told you I always know at once those who are like me and my... my special friends?" Her teeth flashed in a huge beaming self-satisfied smile.
I sat there quite still breathing deeply, hard to say I suppose what I was feeling. Curious, definitely curious but what else? Horrified, appalled, disbelieving? Strangely not. I suddenly felt calm, quite calm and realised that I did believe her and that at the same time I wasn't undergoing the emotions that perhaps I should be experiencing. Horror, shock, outrage! If anything, the very opposite. I was conscious of a keen desire to learn more mingled with a growing feeling of excitement that was stimulating more than just my imagination.
Celine looked at her watch again. "Time is how you say...passing, but I still have a little". She picked up her cup again, drained the contents, looked thoughtfully towards the serving counter then shook her head. "Enough I think".
"You have someone else to see?"
"Non, no, I have a flight later, to Paris. I must, no is not a must, but I like to be back home to my father's chateau by tonight. There are new ponies due to arrive tomorrow, so I wish to be there to welcome them to my stable".
"You like horses?"
"Non" She laughed that roguish laugh again and shook her head her eyes sparkling with mirth. "No, mon Cheri, not horses, I have no interest in real horses, too big, too clumsy, too...too boring, too wrong to be cruel to such simple creatures, yes?" She reached into her small elegant black leather handbag. I recognised the Chanel logo on it. Expensive with a capital E no doubt! A moment later she'd found a large wallet that bore the same symbol and extracted a photograph.
"Look". She leaned across the table towards me in a conspiratorial fashion, glanced quickly around the café and then thrust the picture at me".
I recognised Celine immediately. She was younger, several years younger late teens perhaps. She was smiling directly at the camera and looking very chic in her stylish jodhpurs, riding boots and a white blouse with a very deep cleavage showing almost to her waist. However, it wasn't her that had caught my eye and made me draw in my breath and gasp. Like Celine, I flicked a quick look around the café, but no one had noticed my little outburst, or if they had no one cared.
Celine chuckled at my reaction and winked cheekily. She seemed very amused and leaning back comfortably in her chair lit another of her cigarettes. "Two of my special ponies".
My hand was shaking a little as I glanced back down at the photograph I was holding. It was I suppose what you'd call a group pose. Three people, people? Celine stood in the centre both her bent arms were raised, holding onto what looked like straps. On either side of her stood a man and a woman, bigger than her quite a lot bigger especially the man. Unlike Celine, both were completely naked, no not naked; they wore some type of bondage body harness that looked to restrain but left most of their bodies uncovered.
The woman's large heavy breasts were prominently displayed as was her hairless pubic area. The man was similar except his penis looked to be covered by something resembling a smaller version of a medieval cod-piece! I remembered seeing something like it on a suit of armour during a school museum visit that had sent my friends and me into fits of giggles.
Boots, clunky, awkward looking things covered their feet and lower legs compared to the stylish riding boots Celine wore. You couldn't see their faces properly because their heads were also covered in harness, no bridles, those things were horse bridles I could see the bits in their mouths, and they had blinkers by the sides of their eyes.
Those eyes. They stared right back at me. The man looked angry, but the woman looked lost, hopeless, helpless. I realised then that those were not straps Celine was holding but reins, reins attached to their bits.
Celine had rummaged in her bag again and passed a second picture to me. "Back view," she said quietly.
Whoever had taken the first picture must have moved around to the rear of the group to take this second one. The trio was as before except Celine had twisted her head around to smile at the camera from this direction. The two people beside her still faced forwards, and I noted that they both had their arms pinioned behind their backs. I gasped again. Their thighs and buttocks were covered with a vicious crisscrossing pattern of nasty looking welts. The photos were black and white, but the image clarity was excellent. If they'd been in colour what sort of colour would those buttocks have been? I'd flogged a fair few sets in my time but never anywhere near to that cruel extent!
I looked back at the first photo. Yes, not quite as visible maybe due to contrast or the light or something but I could discern more whip marks on their thighs and oh...and on that woman's big plump breasts, that must have been painful!
There was no doubting either who'd done the flogging or more than one flogging probably. As well as the reins in her right hand I now noted that Celine was holding up a very long thin riding crop. Perhaps more of a cane than a riding crop. I looked again at the first photograph. The look in those people eyes, Celine's wide, cheerful smile and then at that whip or whatever in her hand. The expression 'enfant terrible' suddenly came to mind.
Celine leaned forward again to retrieve her photos. "Croissant and Truffle," she said casually as she returned the photographs to her bag. "A keepsake. Not quite my first animals but the very first ones I ever trained all by myself" Did I even detect a note of pride in her voice. A note also spoken with chilling callous indifference?
"Who...who are they?"
She shrugged again "You mean who were they? A German couple, married, bankers, they tried to cheat someone they shouldn't have and so ended up in my stable. Bad for them but good for me".
I suddenly realised now what she meant by animals and just how deadly serious she was. I knew about such games, of course; I'd indulged more than one client's fantasies at the end of a dog leash, pet playing they called it. This was on a different level and looking at those marks it certainly wasn't playing! I was about to make some remark as to how long had they stayed in the stable and how had they felt about it when I realised what a stupid thing it would be to say. This was undoubtedly not the consensual games I played you only had to look at those poor tits in the second photo to realise that!
Celine rechecked her watch and rose to leave. "I must go find a taxi. I will need to talk to you again, soon, I think. I need to explain much and what I am looking for and how you can help me to find it". She opened her bag again to produce a pen and a small book plus a long thin manila envelope. "A little deposit for my first order. Please give me your telephone number and address; I will contact you". She hovered expectantly. "I assure you that you will find working with me very safe, very profitable...maybe fun as well, I think for you, like me, fun will be much more important than money, perhaps?"
I gave her my details, how could I not. That photo, those buttock cheeks, those helpless eyes, that whip!
Celine blew me a kiss, placed the envelope down on the table and hurried to the door. I saw her wave frantically to someone or something, and a second later a black cab pulled up. I watched her climb in, and it pulled away to vanish in the London traffic quickly. I looked at the plain envelope then slit the end open with a fingernail. There were a thousand dollars in crisp brand-new notes.
"What did you do then," I asked.
"Ordered another coffee of course then begged a light off someone so I could salvage and smoke one of Celine's generous butts while I replayed everything in my mind and to stop my hands shaking! Talking of coffee let me get this coffee pot refreshed, then maybe you'd like to hear more about Celine, and of course, we mustn't forget poor Malcolm, should we?"
"No," I replied. "He's been waiting a while, and I sense that he's going to play a big part in the next instalment. Plus, the talkative lady from New York, what happened to her I wonder?"
Chapter Three (added: 2019/06/07)
I took advantage of the brief interlude to visit the bathroom. Service in the hotel was excellent because when I returned, there was a new ornate silver tray on the small table complete with a fresh pot of coffee, cups, cream, etc. The biscuits had been replaced by a two-tier cake stand replete with a half dozen or so tempting buns, tarts and a chocolate eclair.
"Those look very tempting."
She wagged a finger at me. "Not the eclair, off limits I'm afraid," she said, picking it off the stand and placing it on a plate ignoring the tongs supplied for that very purpose. Then she laughed and licked her long fingers.
I grinned at her and coaxed a large jam tart onto a plate with the aid of my index finger and added cream to my freshly poured coffee. We both took a few moments to appreciate the talents of the hotel's pastry chef.
"My wishes and desires come first and foremost," She said wiping some cream off her lips with one finger and then licking it clean. "I learnt that lesson from Celine a long time ago - but I am sure the jam tart would also have been delicious".
"Excellent" I smiled politely, swallowed the last few crumbs and brushed a few escapees from off my chin and waited for her to resume the story.
"I could not get those two photos that she had shown me out of my mind. I drifted home. Indeed I don't even remember leaving that café and going home. All I could think about were those two photographs. They hadn't even been all that big, basically snapshots as we called them back then although the quality was good I recall, better than the average you got back from the chemist in those days. No cheap Kodak Brownie camera for her given what she had said about wealth, something more substantial, Swiss or German I fancy?"
"So, they made an impact."
She nodded and gently placed her empty plate on the table. "They certainly did. I think on reflection perhaps more than anything else. "They say to hear is to forget, to see is to remember, to do is to learn. I am not sure I would have forgotten what I'd heard from Celine, but if I had I would still have remembered every feature on those photos that I'd just seen, and I did so desire to do and to learn"
I must have looked puzzled for she smiled at me. "You must realise that for someone like me those photos were like...like an invitation to something that had only lurked deep down in the depths of my most hidden and darkest fantasy's. Imagine say you dreamed of being a top soccer player or perhaps a daredevil racing driver and suddenly you saw an open route onto the football pitch to play in the cup final or to drive a Ferrari in the Monaco Grand Prix. That's is how I saw those photographs, like an inconceivable hidden door suddenly opening wide in a hitherto impenetrable wall that you knew had no openings".
"That must have been a powerful feeling".
She nodded. "More than that, call it a compulsion if you like, a craving that I half knew existed within me but had never realised to what extent. It was as if those images were imprinted on my brain. Strange as I'd only had a few seconds to see them. Even today, I can see that smile on Celine's youthful face. That sweet smile so totally unabashed by what she was doing or judging from those whip marks what she had recently done! The way she stood there so casually and yet so totally in control holding those reins that controlled the two...two creatures, she so clearly owned!"
"You wanted to do the same," I asked quietly.
She shuddered. "Oh yes, oh, yes, so very much. Celine was right she'd read me like a book, cover to cover in an instant. I wanted to be the one in that photo, the one in the middle and once the pictures had been taken to take those hapless creatures somewhere private and use that long thin whip she was holding, use it hard. Even now, all these years later, I tingle every time I think back, which is strange given how many times that lust has since been sated!"
"No guilt, no thoughts of...what was it...rushing off to find one of London's pointy-hatted gendarme's?"
She laughed. "None whatsoever. I suppose that made me an evil person, but I didn't feel that way, not for one single moment. Nope, I can truthfully admit it never even crossed my mind!"
"What did you feel?"
"Excitement, anticipation, impatience, as I recall. I wished I'd asked Celine for her telephone number. She was right; I was suddenly a thousand dollars richer, and that had barely registered on me. The money suddenly wasn't important, not the least bit important; it was the action that I desired, or fun as she'd put it".
"I'm curious," I said. "That couple, the German couple in the photographs, did you feel nothing for them especially as you realised that what you were looking at was real, that they certainly were not on the end of those reins Celine held out of their own free choice. Were you truly not shocked in any way?"
Once again, she went quiet and seemed to stare unseeingly into the distance for a while before answering. "I've sometimes wondered about that myself. I should have been shocked, of course, and I mentioned emotions before that, perhaps I should have experienced when Celine was talking. I think my brain was listening to all that she was saying but still not taking it all in fully. I don't think it was till I looked at those photographs that all she had said fully registered."
She paused to take a sip of coffee. "I think it was a bit like a jigsaw, I had bits of the picture and the straight edges together, but it was happening to fast for me, it wasn't till the end when I saw those images that suddenly I saw the complete picture on the box."
"And liked it?"
She nodded. There was a tiny chink as she carefully returned her cup to its saucer. "No, I wasn't shocked. I gasped initially when I saw those whip marks on them as I realised just what it all meant. On reflection, that wasn't pity or sympathy though. Astonishment perhaps and maybe envy. They were quite plainly so helpless and so...so available. You could do anything you wanted to them. No pathetic annoying little voice would be whining; please stop now I've had enough, no safe word, no session limit. No, I felt absolutely nothing for them, only a sort of lust for me."
"They might also have had, well not so pathetic little voices shouting no more they'd had enough" I quietly pointed out.
"True" she conceded "but then they weren't in a position to do so, and I don't suppose Celine would have taken any notice anyway. Probably the very opposite, I know I saw her at work and play enough times. Fun and profit as she said, and for her, it was almost always fun, hers!".
We were briefly interrupted by a polite knock on the door. A visit from management I surmised judging by the smart suit after the visitor had been granted admittance to enquire if everything was to madams satisfaction deferentially. Evidently madam carried quite some weight in the establishment. I knew that just a single night in a suite like the one we were in would probably cost almost as much as a family of four spent on a weeks package holiday including flights to one of the new Spanish resorts!
Once the door had closed behind him, she resumed her narrative. "It was all about power. Power and control. The power that the ordinary person cannot comprehend. No big global conglomerate CEO sitting in his deluxe sixty-something floor huge office wields that sort of power, no Western politician either nor the richest industrialist. Maybe the odd third-word despot or Arab Prince does" She paused. "Well actually I know of more than one Arab Prince or Princess that does come to that, but then again slavery and all its attendant cruelty has never completely died out in that part of the world. You understand what I mean, though?"
I nodded to show that I did. "Absolute power and they say that absolute power... corrupts"
"That is true." She gave a sort of shiver that was neither from cold nor fear but something else entirely. "You have no idea just how it corrupts and how quickly once corrupted" she fell silent for a moment. "...and once corrupted there is no going back not ever. I have never had the desire to experiment with drugs nor even been intoxicated, but I fully understand addiction. Once you have sampled your own particular nirvana, there is no way you would ever wish to descend back down to the banal limits of normal behaviour, no way". She gave a sort of half sigh then abruptly switched again and pointed to the cake stand. "Please, eat up, they are very good....and expensive!"
I laughed, and we both refilled our plates before I asked. "So, I assume then that Celine contacted you again?"
"Of course. I was, as I recall somewhat impatient after our meeting. I let my own business go completely to hell, almost. Suddenly I was no longer interested in pandering to the pathetic fantasies of various submissive wannabe's! Apart from realising how bored I was by such, I was a little afraid, afraid that in my mood of the moment I might actually go too far with some wretched client and get myself into a whole heap of trouble. My deep yearning to see those captive pathetic hopeless dull, broken eyes and a well whip marked body might get the better of me! I lived in a sort of 'limbo' for the better part of a fortnight until she phoned me as promised".
"Another cafe meet?"
She shook her head. "No, this time she suggested we meet at a house belonging to an old friend of hers in London and certainly not the best part which surprised me a little. She told me that it might be useful to see at first hand why she had contacted me, so she gave me an address and asked me to meet her there at three pm the following day".
"I'd imagine that you were somewhat impatient once she'd called?"
"Impatient!" That hardly covered my mood. I'd been in a frenzy of frustration.... I wonder if you can have a 'frenzy of frustration'? Anyway, you know what I mean? I'd been wound up for two weeks wondering if she really would get in touch and if she did, where would it lead?"
"I'd have thought a thousand dollars in a brown paper envelope would have been a substantial indicator that she would get in touch" I observed.
She laughed. "Probably but somehow in my eagerness that had virtually slipped my mind. Strange since by nature up to then I'd been quite an avaricious bitch! I spent the afternoon, night and following morning in a mood of impatient anticipation until it was time to head out for the meeting. No need to dress up Celine had said, come as you are, nothing formal. We just need to have another chat, and I want you to see how I operate".
"Well, as you can imagine I was there in good time, actually twenty minutes early. I had to double check the address, more than once I recall as I walked towards it. It was in the middle of one of those long bleak rows of soot-stained tall, narrow and begrimed old Victorian terrace houses somewhere behind King's Cross railway station. Seedy I thought, seedy and run down and certainly not the sort of properties I would have associated with a rich, elegant girl like Celine, or at least the Celine I'd met previously. I kept wondering if I'd got the address wrong, written down road instead of avenue, something like that perhaps, but I also knew I hadn't done that. No way would I have made a simple mistake like that".
"Eagar but accurate", I murmured.
"I knew I was early, but I decided to ring the bell of the right house anyway. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to wander aimlessly around the block for twenty or so minutes. The door was painted a horrible purple colour I remember, garish! The bell was also too loud, a medley of chimes that seemed to go on and on. No need to press the button a second time with that racket blasting out!
Even so, I almost did. I seemed to be standing there for ages before I heard someone sliding bolts and unlocking the door to admit me. I found a pair of dark eyes staring at me curiously through a narrow gap betwixt door and frame, and a quiet low voice requested my name. I confirmed who I was, and the door swung wide to admit me.
It wasn't Celine who had opened the door; it was a much older woman. I immediately had a vague feeling that I knew her or that I had seen her before, but where or when eluded me, but the feeling was very strong. She was attractive in a severe hawkish way, probably in her late forties, maybe even older but looked as though she kept herself in shape from what I could see through the semi-transparent black negligee she was wearing.
"You are early aren't you," she said and then smiled her face softening . "no doubt eager to join our merry little band". She laughed. "Come in please, close the door behind you, push it hard till you hear the catch lock it sometimes sticks. Upstairs, please follow me".
"I did as she requested and followed her up to the first floor and into a large room with a big bay window that overlooked the road outside. It was comfortably furnished with a lot of old heavy furniture, the chairs and sofa's looked to have been extensively refurbished with more modern materials in a variety of light pastel colours mostly shades of pink. It was definitely all very feminine and rather girlie. Along one wall, there were several shelves which upon which stood or sat a large collection of dolls. There was also a couple of glass display cases that also contained a variety of dolls that ranged from modern Barbies to old Victorian pot or paper mache ones but with a common theme. Pink. Every outfit was pink, ranging from dark reddish to ultra shocking. There were even a few ancient playworn Teddy bears but again dressed in waistcoats and trousers that followed the common theme.
"The boudoir my little place for rest and relaxation," My host told me gesticulating with another laugh and graceful wave of one slender white arm. "Please be seated, Celine will not be long, she is dressing, you caught us..." She laughed again. "Well, let's say we were entertaining ourselves with a newly acquired toy".
"You'll see" she smiled, gestured again to the comfortable chairs and disappeared through a door into another room while I took a seat and thoughtfully racked my brains, where had I seen her before. Tall, late forties maybe even fifties, natural, ageless beauty, severe even harsh expression till she smiled, tall, slim, a cascade of raven dark long curling hair down her back. Where had I seen her before?
"Ah, there you are, early I think are you not" Celine came through the same door the older woman had just used. She smiled at me and wagging a finger as she spoke, then quickly bent down to embrace me and gave me a quick peck on both cheeks continental fashion before seating herself in a chair opposite me. She reached into the pocket of her jeans to withdraw cigarettes and lighter, lit one and nodded her head back towards the closed door behind her.
"She, she will tell me off", she shrugged her shoulders, "she always does, but we all have our bad habits, some of them much naughtier than others!" she winked and laughed then exhaled a long plume of blue smoke. The sparkle seemed to fade from her eyes a little, and she looked at me both with curiosity and...and I thought, a slightly challenging expression.
"So, you came and..." she glanced at a nearby wall clock, "came early, so eager perhaps?"
I nodded. I was suddenly nervous. This girl was frightening in a way that I could not describe. She was smaller than I was and more lightly built. Younger but so assured and still so damn elegant even in a simple shirt, old faded blue jeans tucked into a scuffed pair of black low heeled knee boots. Her short hair was tousled as if she'd just got out of bed, yet! Damn her. I wasn't dressed all that different, but where she looked fresh and chic I was probably more borderline scruffy!
Celine still regarded me quizzically while she took another long drag on her cigarette and slowly exhaled another cloud of smoke. "I think," she said. "I think that you were very eager for my phone call, yes she asked shrewdly?"
I nodded again and swallowed a little nervously. "Yes, I think it was those photos that you showed me more than anything else, I couldn't get them out of my mind".
Celine laughed with delight and wagged her finger at me again. "Ah so, my two old beauties, the keepsake for my memory my...my what you call it, my ...?"
"Reminiscence, remembrance, souvenir..." I offered.
She shrugged. "Whatever, I like to keep that one anyway", She suddenly giggled. "Had I known I would have brought some others for you to look at, much more wicked I think". She laughed that deep laugh of hers that seemed such a contrast with the rest of her sophisticated persona.
I jumped in my chair as I heard a muffled scream from the next room then someone was shouting, angry and shouting but I could not make out the words The walls must be quite substantial and the doors I'd already noticed were old and solid wood, not your modern plywood veneer and cardboard bracing flimsy things. There was another muffled scream and then silence.
I looked back to Celine who did not appear the least bit disturbed then again to the door and finally back to Celine who just smiled at me. She took one final puff on her cigarette which by now had a long pillar of grey ash dangling precariously off the end, looked around for a non-existent ashtray then left her chair to cross over to a row of pot plants on the window ledge, burying her butt in one of them.
"Sshh" she put a finger to her lips as she resumed her seat pausing briefly to rub some discarded ash into the carpet with one small booted foot. "So, you wish to know why I ask you to come here today?"
Again I said nothing but merely nodded.
"You met my friend Darcia" she jerked her head again towards the other room. "This is her house, one of them anyway".
I was about to nod yet again, but recollection abruptly smote me. Darcia! I did know her. She was an ex-dancer, a choreographer and quite a well know one. Something of a mystery woman as she tended to shun publicity unlike those so-called talentless celebrity Bimbo's that seem to beam at you from every tabloid newspaper these days".
My face creased into a smile at the sudden quizzical expression on her face, and I shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position in my chair and waited for her to continue her narrative.
"I'd met her once some years before at an audition in the West End. They were doing a revival of some old musicals but with a modern update and she was the main choreographer also doing the dancer recruitment. Heck, I even made it through the first three rounds but got culled on the first trial of the second day. That's where I knew her from. She did a lot of stage work but never hung around for the glamour of opening nights and the like. Same with awards, she'd won a few but never collected them in person. One of those glamorous people who appeared pretty bland and uninteresting to the press, so they left her alone. I remember thinking she was perhaps not quite as bland and uninteresting after all?"
Celine continued. "Darcia has been recruiting for us for a long time, a very long time before I even started. She's been my friend and mentor since I was in my mid-teens. A very close friend" Celine winked and chuckled. "I learned a lot from her".
"Does she live here?"
"Non. This is her place for privacy and where she brings the sweet little innocent packages that I buy" She laughed again. "Also, she likes to play a little first. This house, this street is very, very how you say, invisible? No, that is not correct?".
"Nondescript" I offered helpfully. "It means it does not stand out, unexceptional, ordinary, blends in with the background, and so forth."
She clapped her hands together. "Perfect. Non, nondayscrypt, is a perfect word, I think. I shall remember it, so perfect for much of my world and how it must always be. Ordinary. Yes, she keeps this house just for her fun and for business with me. Most times, she lives with her husband and children in a big country house. He is a big executive in the TV business, he....".
She broke off at a noise from the next room that sounded as though something had been knocked over. I heard an angry female voice shout "Idiot", this time loud enough to hear distinctly and it was immediately followed by the loud squeal of someone or something in pain. The door opened, and as per my first meeting with Celine, I was to gasp again in a mixture of shock and surprise.
Darcia entered a tall picture of mature long legged stylish, sensual femininity still dressed in that flimsy black transparent negligee loosely belted at the waist. She was undoubtedly a beautiful woman, but that was not what had elicited my reaction. In one hand she held a long thin bamboo cane and in the other a short leather leash.
"Heel bitch" Darcia snarled and at the same time flicked the cane quickly up and down to crack sharply across the bare bottom of the girl on the other end of her leash. "and head down, keep your damn eyes on the floor and not on your betters as you've been taught. This lady is no concern of yours, she is not the one who will be buying you, and she's certainly not here to free you!".
Celine laughed at me. "Close it Cherie" she gestured to her mouth with one finger and giggled.
I knew what she meant. My jaw must have dropped a mile, well that's what it felt like, not very ladylike as I'd gawped so I promptly close my mouth as Celine chuckled again. She turned to Darcia perhaps you should show the fat bitch off a little darling. I know she's nowhere near fully trained, but you have taught her so beautifully well in such a short time".
A thin smile formed on Darcie's lips. A long shapely naked leg capped with a high heeled sandal emerged from the negligee to deliver a quick, vicious kick to the crawling girl who yelped in pain. Darcia strolled to a circular mat in the centre of the room callously dragging the girl along with her.
"Sit, bitch, beg."
I watched open mouth as the girl abruptly, unmoving knelt upright, back straight, ridged and holding her bent arms out in front of her palms and fingers down in a perfect parody of a begging dog. Her terrified eyes flickered in my direction once, caught my fascinated gaze but only for a brief second before they quickly looked away and downwards.
Darcia smile became a touch warmer as she also looked at me. "Susie, with no zee" She laughed and nudged the girl with her foot. Mind you; I expect her new owner will find a more appropriate name for the fat bitch. Miss roly-poly too much puppy fat here who imagined she could actually be of interest to me in my latest production." She gave the girls thigh a kick with one pointed toed sandal.
The girl flinched but made no sound, but she did twitch with nervous fear and maintained the position she'd been commanded to adopt. On closer inspection, I noticed that she was trembling her body slightly shaking with fear. I could see the tremors, and I knew why she shook. That cane in Darcie's hand was not for show the girl's breasts were covered with vicious red and purple wheals presumably from that same cane.
"Down, walk, heel" Darcia commanded. Instantly the girl dropped back to hands and knees and obediently crawled to heel behind her towering tormentor as she was paraded backwards and forwards before my awed gaze.
It wasn't just her plump breasts that had received some painful attention. Her bottom I'd noticed was likewise covered with cruel marks from that threatening cane but to a far greater extent. God, those must be painful. She was quite pretty and probably no older than nineteen or twenty I thought. Maybe five feet four with short blonde hair. Nor was she fat. She'd probably been pushing her luck with her figure and particularly her bust, trying to make a career as a dancer. Shapley yes but fat no. A lovely little thing I thought and quite an eye catcher under the right circumstances.
"Not bad is she" Celine commented as if reading my mind.
"Who, who is she?"
"Nobody important" Darcia answered. "She moved over to the sofa and took a seat next to Celine. One finger pointed down, gesturing toward the floor by her feet. "Down, curl up" she commanded, giving the leather leash a savage jerk as she spoke.
I watched as the girl hastened to the spot and quickly curled herself into a tight ball, head tucked in and knees drawn up so that Darcia could conveniently rest her feet on the terrified girl as if such an action was a mere matter of course.
"You have been smoking" Darcia's nose twitched, and she addressed Celine rather coldly. The latter pulled a face, shrugged and then pouted. "So, what" she answered cheekily.
Darcia said nothing for a second and then with an abrupt motion she raised the thin bamboo cane and brought it down in a brutal stroke on the already battered bottom of the girl beneath her feet. The unfortunate thing screamed in agony and briefly made as if to move to grasp her tortured rump then as if remembering something abandoned the move and resumed her former position.
"That's what, my nicotine-addicted little French pussy licker," Darcia said and pointed to the most recent welt on the girls bottom. She then waggled the cane at Celine. "You want to smoke in my house then you pay the price, six I think this evening".
"Six" Celine protested, but I noticed she didn't seem too perturbed.
Darcia suddenly turned to me. "What do you think, six or maybe a few more for this naughty girl who so flagrantly breaks my house rules. You think she deserves more?"
They both looked at me. "Ah well" I floundered. "Depends how hard I suppose".
"Mmmm, that will be for me to decide I think," said Darcia. "Anyway, I need to put this bitch away for now, and you two need to discuss business. Up!" she ordered, dragging the girl back into a crawling position. "Heel. Back to your kennel bitch, you can come out and play with us both again tonight".
They left the room, and I didn't think that poor beaten puppy girl looked over happy at the idea of providing further 'entertainment' later that day. I turned back as the door closed to gaze at Celine.
"Bitch" Celine muttered. "I know she will hurt me tonight now."
"Do you like that?"
Celine laughed and considered for a moment. "Sometimes it can be fun. I like the kiss and make up afterwards. Anyway, it reminds me to be careful when I play with my ponies" She laughed once more. "I am how you say the total pervert, no?"
I decided it was time to change the subject. "That girl, who is she?"
"You mean, who was she?" Celine replied, then shrugged her shoulders. "A nobody. She had dreams of becoming a dancer on the West End stage. Came down from the North for some auditions. The foolish girl poured her heart out when she was interviewed, perhaps thinking it would improve her chances." Celine laughed a cold, cruel laugh. "Well she was right but not as she imagined, it did improve her chances of finding a new role in life. Grew up in a Care Home, no family, no address other than a temporary bed in a London hostel, no one anywhere to ask questions."
"So, you kidnapped her?"
"Non, not me, Cherie. Darcia does that for me" She giggled. "Oh, all those poor little bitches with stars in their eyes, all so eager to become famous and instead they just find Darcia and her cane, never more to be seen. Well, only seen by a privileged few".
"How, how many?" I asked.
Celine shrugged again. "I don't know. She was doing it before I meet her. Quite a few I suppose, it depends on many things, I think. What project Darcia has going and how many apply and of course only a few a very few will be suitable." Once again, she laughed. "Sometimes she gets so mad. She gets the hots for some little cutie but can't touch her because it would be far too dangerous. Poor Darcia, so hot and so ready to be cruel but so helpless. I love it when she gets like that!"
"This, this is what you want me to do, isn't it?" I asked.
"Of course. Occasionally you will get a suitable candidate, someone, to interest me. Someone who can disappear while paying for their fantasy only to find it becomes a reality. Never to be seen again just like little Susie going down to the cellar. That why I invited you over today. I wanted you to get a little taste".
I shook my head. "I hardly get any women clients," I said probably rather naively.
Celine laughed yet again. "I know that silly. It does not matter; the market is extensive and, in some case, not too fussy. Supply and demand, and as you can imagine, demand is the greater that makes it very very profitable" She paused and jerked downwards with a thumb. "Do you think Darcia just deals in girls eh? She sees a lot of male dancers as well. Men dancers are usually very athletic, and sometimes very pretty and pretty boys also sell for a good price. Very popular with certain rich men" She brought both of her hands together and made an obvious but obscene gesture a couple of times. Then giggled. "Especially those that are virgins and are not liking other boys!"
"How, how much...?"
Celine screwed her face up thoughtfully. "It varies every time. No two are ever the same. Sometimes I have a particular request. I usually then tell my suppliers what I am looking for when that happens. Of course, those are always the most expensive deals. Other times I buy whatever is available. You'd be surprised; everything has a price. She gave me several examples, and I realised what she meant. Even the low price was way beyond anything I would ever have expected to lay out on a single purchase, and that included buying a small house one day.
"Wow" was all I could say then a thought struck me. "That girl what is going to happen to her?"
Celine shrugged with total indifference. " She's been sold. I had an enquiry. I called Darcia; she already had her eye on that bitch. It was all too easy. An offer to the stupid little cow, a three-month contract as a dancer for a pop movie being shot in Spain, was she interested?" Celine laughed. "Like the fish that is greedy for the big fat worm and bites without thinking about a possible hook. "She checked out of her cheap hostel the same day with all her pathetic possessions. Darcia picked her up at a bus stop and brought her straight back here to fill out the paperwork and organise a flight ticket."
"But there was no paperwork".
She smiled and shook her head. "No, no paperwork, no ticket and no job. Just Darcia and her playroom in the cellar and Anne of course, Anne and her whips."
"Bad, a very bad woman" Celine gave a shiver. "A friend of Darcia's a very good friend. I think perhaps her lover many years ago when she was younger, but now, now she is old, old, and very...how you say,...I forget, these lines?" She screwed her face up and pointed to the corner of her eyes.
"Old and wrinkled".
"Oui?" She looked puzzled. "Wrinkled! Is like crinkled?".
I remember that I laughed. "Sort of but different. Crinkle is, well more, well you might say more used for inanimate objects, crinkled up paper for instance."
It was absurd, and as I was too experience similar situations on so many future occasions till they became so commonplace, I no longer noticed the incongruity. It was slightly surreal to be sitting there having that discussion only moments after a terrified and beaten young woman had been led from the room like a dog on the end of a leash and then who was this mysterious Anne and whips?
Celine answered my unspoken question. She lives here, looks after the house, dolls and dogs for Darcia as well as anything Dar has acquired for me, or maybe for herself. As I said, Dar lives in the country with her family, so is only here perhaps one or two days a week. Someone needs to feed her pets and keep an eye on things, make sure all is right, and she is just the type to make sure there is no trouble. No one I think makes problems for her unless they are foolish!"
The door opened, and Darcia hurried back in. Apart from losing the girl somewhere, she'd also changed into a simple but expensive looking roll neck jersey dress and a pair of high heeled knee boots. She smiled at me and said. "Nice to have met you but I must run I am already late. Your fault darling" she chided Celine as she bent down to kiss her, and it wasn't just a quick peck on the cheek I noted. "I will be back around eight; you will be ready and waiting for me, won't you, my pet, or...." Her voice took on a colder, more ominous tone, "maybe I will let Anne play with you a little first!" She laughed at Celine's expression. "Anne will do the necessary when you're both ready", she tossed back at the pair of us.
Celine muttered something quietly in French that didn't sound very complimentary and raised one hand in a languid half-wave as the woman whom I now presumed to be her lover, or maybe one of her lovers, made a hasty departure pausing only to snatch up a leather shoulder bag and a bunch of keys. I turned questioningly to Celine. I wondered what 'necessarys' this Anne had in store for us, and I was still somewhat unsure as to why I was there. Clearly, she had wanted me to meet Darcia and to see that poor girl and was this what was expected of me? To become a procuress in a similar fashion.
"Let's go downstairs and meet Anne; she can show you the cells, playroom and kennels."
"Darcia like dogs, what breed?"
Celine who'd arisen to open the door squealed with laughter as though I'd just made the world's funniest joke.
"Come see' she chortled and led the way downstairs to the ground floor and then down a passage through to a spacious well-equipped kitchen and then via a stout door and a flight of stone steps to the basement.
A muffled scream suddenly sounded from behind another substantial wooden door that I assumed would lead into the old cellar area. It was repeated even louder and more anguished. It was a man who was screaming, and I had never heard anyone scream in pain like that. I'd had many of my clients scream at times, but none had ever screamed like that, not in what sounded like total agony of the worst imaginable kind.
Celine giggled and raised her forefinger to her lips. "Shh, I think Anne is busy, no? Let us go see the fun" she added, opening the door.
Chapter Four (added: 2019/08/25)
I waited expectantly for the revelation. What was behind the door, I wondered. The silence stretched into a full minute, so I put a hand to my mouth and gave a polite cough. Nothing. The ticking emanating from the antique looking carriage clock seemed noisier, each tick louder than the preceding tock or was that merely my imagination?
She suddenly laughed. "That was very obvious you know". There was a slight note of disapproval in her voice but bit it was good humoured.
"Sorry Ma'am, you'd got me hooked, and I was waiting eagerly to find out what Celine was going to show you?"
"Then I am going to have to disappoint you". She glanced at her gold wristwatch and then at the clock on the mantelpiece. "Hmmm, one of them is out by a good five minutes" she noted. "I am feeling a trifle weary, so I think you will have to excuse me for today. I will be delighted to see you again tomorrow; I start with an early walk in the park and take breakfast late. Shall we say eleven am" She gave me a big smile? "Besides, I want to....to think through things a little more. I'm old and old people are not always good at recollecting all the significant events of their past."
I opened my mouth, but she wagged a finger at me.
"Now now, don't you start trying to soft soap me, telling me I'm not old or shower flattery on me regarding my mental state." She chuckled. "You know I can't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning, orange juice, coffee and....no it's gone?"
I stood up to take my leave. "That probably makes two of us ma'am, I don't think it's just a problem of age, breakfast has always been a case of 'grab and go' with me, I might be OK with this morning but thinking back to yesterday....?
She laughed and shook my outstretched hand, and I made my way quietly to the door leaving her sitting still and once again staring into space as she no doubt sought to find and rewind the events of her youth from wherever they had been stored.
"It was a bacon sandwich," she said decisively and with a certain smug degree of satisfaction.
I was back in my deep comfortable armchair with a full coffee cup to hand ready to listen when she resumed her narrative.
"Yesterday's breakfast. I told you I couldn't remember what I'd had"
"Silly of me, I couldn't remember because I didn't have it here in the hotel, that's why. I walked much further than I normally do and then spied a café on the other side of the railings near the park entrance on the far side and I could smell bacon frying. I needed caffeine, and goodness that bacon smelled delicious, a real working men's greasy spoon café, I can't remember the last time I was in one of those!"
I smiled. "A bacon butty complete with tomato ketchup" I presume.
"Lashing of it and a fried egg on top plus a huge mug of coffee complete with chips and not the fried potato kind" she chuckled and added, "It was divine".
"Well, you seem to have survived it."
"No harm done" she agreed. "Now then, where were we?"
"Celine was about to open a door down in Darcia's cellar as I recall."
"Yes," she whispered. "Darcia's cellar, that was I suppose the second stage of the journey across my personal Rubicon, a journey of no turning back, no possible U-turn to normality!"
I waited and took a sip of coffee while she gathered her thoughts together before resuming her recollections.
"Celine was giggling as she opened the door. She opened it a trifle to peep in then turned back to me."
"Time to see the poor doggies," she said opening it fully and walking in with me following on behind as another agonised scream sounded from within and I heard the voice of a distraught man begging, really begging for the first time in my life.
"Please, please, no more, mercy for god's sake, no more, have pity, no more, please, please...."
"Tres voix forte," Celine remarked at least it sounded something like that.
"If you mean this pups got a good pair of lungs, then I quite agree," the woman whom I presumed to be Anne said turning around as we entered, "Good job Dar has invested in quality soundproofing, this one could wake the dead!" She looked down at the man in front of her. "Which is what this piece of shit will be if he tries to bite me again".
I followed Celine as she strolled over to look at the naked man strapped securely to a low whipping bench, his bottom raised, and his head down low, arms and leg strapped securely to the legs and a thick strap around his waist. He was visibly struggling but going nowhere not with those thick heavy-duty straps restraining him.
"Oh, poor puppy, is Anne being cruel then?" Celine had gone to the front of the bench. She bent down to look into the man's face, ruffling his hair at the same time. "Poor doggie but it's for your own good you know; you have to learn to be a good puppy, or the nasty cane will hurt your rumpy-pumpy". She laughed in his face and stood up. "I heard him talking, that was very naughty, may I?"
"Sure, be my guest" the woman I presumed was Anne said handing a long thin whippy cane to Celine, "my arm was starting to tire anyway".
Celine laughed and swished the cane through the air a couple of times. "That would be the first time I'm sure. One never gets tired when delivering a good flogging as we both know!"
She gave the cane one more slash then holding both ends bent forward flexing it ominously in front of the helpless man's face. I moved so that I could see him better. I was surprised; this wasn't what I was used to at all. This was no flabby paunched, balding middle-aged businessman paying someone like me to get his rocks off. Nor, I noted, was Anne the traditional glamorous stiletto heeled leather clad Dominatrix the perverts invariably expected. I'd had to doll up countless times in such attire for my clients, those heels hurt my feet, and the leather adopted a specific odour once you'd worn it a few times and worked up a sweat whipping some fat bastards arse.
Anne hadn't bothered with any of that. Totally one hundred per cent the opposite. Not a hint of makeup and she had plastic curlers in her grey blonde hair. Cheap plastic curlers complete with rubber bands! I estimated her age to be maybe sixty, sixty-five(ish). Not a great looker without any warpaint, the sort of hatchet-faced woman I could imagine teaching ten-year-olds their times tables or glaring at the parsimonious while handing over the collection plate on a Sunday morning. Tatty white plimsolls, blue jeans and a baggy white sweater with the sleeves rolled up did surrogate duty for the leather catsuit and boots.
She gave me a quick smile, and a casual wave of acknowledgement then fished in her pocket for a box of matches and a packet of cigarettes, struck a match which briefly filled the dead air with the reek of sulphur and then puffed away calmly watching Celine.
Celine looked up and beckoned me to join her. "New?" she queried Anne, who promptly nodded and withdrew her cigarette long enough to reply.
"Brand new, hitchhiking down the Great North Road in that bad storm day afore yesterday, Dar stopped with an offer of a lift to London and a bed for the night. An irresistible offer the randy fool couldn't refuse, no doubt expected fringe benefits the way Dar still goes around flaunting herself!" she finished on a slightly disapproving note.
Celine giggled and ruffled the man's curly hair again. No, not a man a youth I saw. "Did puppy boy think he'd be mounting a hot mature bitch then, poor puppy, not what you thought eh, boy"?
He wasn't a man nor a boy, but a well built muscular youth, maybe nineteen or twenty. Dark and very good looking. Heavy growths of blue-black stubble already decorating his chin and neck but my eye was drawn to the opposite end of his anatomy. Somebody, almost certainly Alice had flogged his bottom into a bloody bruised swollen mass of flesh. There were livid raised welts all over many oozing think tendrils of blood, some joining together forming red rivulets that rand down to drop on to the concrete floor.
I'd been in the punishment business for several years by then and administered plenty of beatings, even a couple of times in a duo scenario bit never, never anything to match that bottom. Christ, that must be absolute agony. How the hell could he...I saw a small bottle on the floor, smelling salts I suspected. Evidently, he couldn't stand it, so Anne had a solution to hand.
"Help me, for the love of God help me, please, please" His eyes caught mine. Help me, I've been kidnapped, and these bitches are torturing me, help me" Terrified eyes, pleading eyes, eyes that showed both anger, raging anger but also fear and helpless frustration. Eyes I realised that I had seen once before. They were the eyes of that 'horse-man' in the photos Celine had shown me in the café. The eyes that had nuked my pussy so effectively; otherwise, I would not have been there starring into their counterparts.
I shivered, I was experiencing the same reaction as before, and my initial shock was rapidly diminishing. His eyes were locked on mine, and I saw his expression change from one of hope, through resignation and then to terror once more as he realised his pleas had fallen on deaf ears.
"Bad boy, bad, dog, bad, bad animal" Celine chided tapping the business end of the cane on her left palm. She turned to Anne. "You told it the basic rules I suppose?"
Ann nodded. "Yup, straight after I stripped the cunt down to bare hide and gave it a little taster as a welcome warm up! Animals like him don't talk, don't think, don't do nowt, period, unless permitted by their owners. This one's too dumb so far to learn that, wants to yap every time I take the rubber bone out of his mouth". She removed her cigarette and used it to point at a discarded gag on the floor.
Celine shook her head. "Now that is naughty, very naughty. Doesn't everybody just hate yappy doggies?" She smiled sweetly at the youth and then slowly walked around behind him. He tried to follow her with his head, but his restraints wouldn't allow it. I saw him tense, and his eyes caught mine again in a silent plea.
That look again. Oh, yes, I remember it hit me again. We both knew what was about to happen, yet there was no way, no way I was going to interfere in this horrendous scenario. No way I realised as my damp pussy spasmed yet again, it wasn't horrifying at all, it was wonderful, truly mind-blowing in such a delightfully sadistic pussy tingling way.
She paused to look at me. "Do you think that was truly wicked?"
I considered for a moment then nodded slowly. "So, what happened".
She laughed. "Well, we didn't decide to stop for a nice cup of tea and hold a Mother's Union meeting. I can tell you that!".
Her mischievous eyes sparkled with long remembered treasured memory as she took a dainty ladylike sip from her cup of coffee before resuming her narrative.
He looked at me, and for a long, long second, I looked back straight into his very soul. Maybe he looked into mine, but if so, I doubt he liked what he saw. I turned to Celine and quietly said, "Flog him, flog him hard, make the dog howl for us". Of God, the way I felt as I said that. I couldn't stop myself; it was my pussy talking not me, and I didn't care about them, I wanted him to scream for me and me alone at that moment.
"And he did?"
"Oh, my yes, from the very first stroke Celine gave him he started to scream. Not just scream but to howl, howl like the dog he was. You can't even begin to imagine? I appreciated what Anne had said about soundproofing. His screams reverberated around that cellar dungeon room and under other circumstances might have triggered one of my migraines but not now this was just too delightful. Music to my ears as Celine ruthlessly used her slender instrument to play her own composition on his flayed buttocks. There were no preliminaries, no tune-up; she launched in full volume with the very first cut she delivered with a precision born of practice. Six strokes and he fainted.
"Wimp" Celine snarled and gave the silent slumped figure the hardest stroke yet. She turned to me "Its hide will soon toughen up, here" She handed me the cane.
"Yeah, makes my fucking job harder though" Anne grumbled dropping her cigarette stub and crushing it under one foot. She bent to retrieve the small bottle and with the stopper removed wafted it a few times under the youth's nose till he began to move.
Celine laughed and winked at me. "She jokes, I think. She will have broken its spirit long before its hide is tanned to leather. Come on doggie, no sleepy heads when this lovely lady wants to burn your botty too". Her voice took on a hard note, and she grabbed a handful of hair and shook the youths head roughly from side to side.
There was another lengthy silence, and the mantle clock tucked remorselessly on, and I wondered if I should cough again and risk another rebuke.
"I can remember it as if it was yesterday" She continued speaking slowly, and a shiver shook her small frame. "Like yesterday. I gripped that cane so hard my fingers ached I yearned to hurt him, to make him scream for me but it was I recognised, that final bridge I was about to burn, and I relished in that thought. " I couldn't resist going to stand where Celine had first stood so I could also look down upon him. Look at the wretched creature fate had delivered to me and brought so low, so helpless, so vulnerable. Once again, our eyes met. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no sound emerged because I raised a finger to my lips to silence him, shaking my head as I did it.
I smiled down at him. Mine, mine to do as I liked with. I knew neither Celine nor Anne would interfere unless I did something dreadful. Maybe not even then! Just as Celine had done, I flexed that thin length of bamboo just as I had done on fifty perhaps a hundred occasions in the past in my private dungeon. Never before like this though, never without constraints, without limits where no safe word even existed to frustrate my sadistic yearnings. A secret little world where compassion was not in the vocabulary.
For the very first time in my life, my lips twisted into a smile that I was to repeat a thousand and more times. A smile of sadistic anticipation, a smile that said I have the power, power over you and you are but an animal for me to do with as I wish...and what I wish, no lust after is to hurt you and I will! He silently mouthed just one word up at me "please". I licked my lips, pouted a wet kiss at him and moved to where I could get a good view of the target area. I heard a vague whisper "noooo".
Anne and then Celine hadn't left me much to aim at. I'd heard the expressions 'skinning alive and tanning the hide off' and between them chiefly Anne, that is just what they had done. One lesson I learned there and then was that of restraint. I've broken many a wild creature in since that first time, but I limit the damage. I'm a sadist, not a killer, and that youth had been taken too near the edge and far too quickly. I knew if I just so much as touched that bleeding brutalised black and purple mass with the tip of my cane he'd pass out again. Almost, almost but not quite a feeling of sympathy and compassion entered me but was quickly dispelled.
"I wouldn't use his ass" Anne drawled. " I reckon I might have overcooked that a mite but Dar said she wanted him broken in double quick. I should tickle his thighs a bit dear, plenty of fresh meat there to work on."
Celine clapped her hands together. "Perfect, see if you can make it sing for its supper for us".
"Wait a mo then," Anne said as she saw me readying myself. "Talking of supper," she crossed to a corner of the room and retrieved a couple of large tin bowls and a small low-level platform. She thrust the latter under her captives head and then placed one bowl directly in from of him - the other to one side.
"Now puppy" she addressed him firmly holding his head in one hand over the bowl. "You didn't want your doggie chunks this morning, did you. Now you be a good boy. If'n I see you with your muzzle deep in this bowl slurping up your breakfast, you can have the water bowl as well, and maybe, just maybe this nice lady won't get too cruel, eh?"
I delivered the first blow as she stood up and nodded to me. The swish, the scream, the satisfying sound as it bit hard and deep into soft white skin - the ridge of bruised flesh that rose to mark my omnipotence over the creature. I delivered a second and a third.
"It's not eating, sweetie" Celine chided.
I remember gritting my teeth. It must have been screaming, but strangely I can't seem to recall other than the first one. I gave it the better part of a dozen some on one thigh and the rest on the other. By the time I was finished that metal tin was banging around as it thrust its head deep into the bowl, frantically slurping up dog food or whatever it was. He had it all over his face when Anne pulled the bowl away, and it looked and smelt awful. She thrust the water bowl toward him, and he plunged his face in desperately tonguing the cold liquid out.
Anne picked the food bowl up looked inside then delivered a meaty slap to his rump, making him jump and slop water everywhere with a strangled scream. "Next time dog" She bent and showed him the bowl, "I want to see my face in the bottom of this otherwise rumpy pumpy gets another fucking roasting!"
She looked over at me. "Gotta talk to them a little at first, they gotta learn and learn quick. After that, it's just one-word commands plus pointing and finger clicks. Don't usually take too long. Some, of course, are dumber than others, but they all learn in the end".
I stared at her, then at the cane in my hand then down to the youth still frantically slurping up water and finally to the vicious stripes I'd just created on his bare thighs. Oh, how at that moment I wished his arse was a pure, unsullied expanse of white flesh so that I could ply that cane all over it!
"Come," Celine said, taking the cane from my hand and casually tossing over for Anne to catch. "let's go see the rest". She pointed to a nearby door. "Da owns this house and the ones either side, Anne lives in one, and a couple of her dancers rent the other. Young female dancers" She finished with a suggestive wink.
"Nice girls! Anne added, nudging the youths water bowl back under his face with one foot. "They help me sometimes. She looked up with a grin and nodded to the nearest wall. "So, no problems with neighbours if anything were to go wrong with the noise proofing, eh?"
I nodded and went to follow Celine. Behind me, Anne called "Feel free to come back and see us any time" There was a swish and another agonised scream. "I'm sure dog here would love to play with you again". She finished with a nasty chuckle.
"Incredible," I said to Celine. "Absolutely incredible....I mean here just a stone's throw from King's Cross station and you have these...these..."
"Nobodies" Celine interjected. "The world is a big place, London is a big city, and no one cares or gives a damn when one of them goes poof! Why should they? Except us!" she added with a laugh.
We were in a small, musty brick passage that made a tight angle turn. Were we still in the same building or next door? I didn't know. Celine opened another heavy door into another passage or what at first glance seemed to a narrow passageway. It wasn't I realised a moment later.
It was another old cellar but this time divided up into roofless cubicles divided by walls of newer bright yellow coloured bricks. Each cell for that's what they were had iron bars, and an iron gate at the front and a ceiling composed of the same black bars spaced a few inches apart - three on the left with an open space at the far end and four on the right. The ones on the right differed in that the iron bars that formed the ceiling were a lot lower, only about four feet in height.
"Da's private cells and kennels" Celine gestured along the row. Cells on the left dog houses on the right." She laughed again. "It's a bit, how you say, complacent, no...complicit...."
"Oui, yes complicated. She can have Anne push up or sink those top bars to change height". She laughed again. "If a dog or a slave makes her very angry she sometimes drops it so low they have to grovel around on their bellies in the dirt, very funny yes? Come let us see the animals" She giggled. "Like a zoo, no?"
Four of the seven enclosures were occupied. Again, I thought back to what I'd said only a minute or so before. Incredible, four human beings, imprisoned, helpless, four individuals held captive totally against their will and for one purpose and one purpose only. To provide entertainment and pleasure for the woman who had captured them, the woman who'd caged them down here, the woman who...the woman who actually owned them. Incredible!
"Two and two" Celine observed clinically. "Two dogs and two slaves". We walked a few feet so that we could see into all four occupied cells. "Well trained," she said with approval glancing around. "but what else with Anne looking after them" she finished with a nasty giggle.
She was right. All four occupants were right at the front of their cells where they had scrambled the moment the two of us entered. Well trained indeed, I observed.
To the left in the low pens, two 'human male dogs' knelt upright or as near upright as they could. They held their hand out in 'beg' position only they were not hands but leather balls, no some type of wrist mitten with a shaped ball and pad, a pad that was shaped like a paw.
"Their hands...?" I started to ask.
"Paws, front paws" Celine corrected me. "These stupid animals have no hands, no fingers, not anymore, they don't need them for anything now do they, silly?"
I remember slowly shaking my head. "No.....no, I suppose not".
"Same with their back paws" She pointed the snapped her fingers. "You dog turn" she swirled one finger in a circle.
The unfortunate man, no, the unfortunate creature promptly dropped to his hands and knees, shuffled around through a hundred and eighty degrees and instantly resumed the same humiliating position but now facing the fear of his simple enclosure.
"Only little legs" Celine observed pointing again. "Some owners prefer little both for front and at the back, but Da says it makes them move too slow, so only back little legs for her dogs".
I remember being puzzled for a moment until I twigged what she meant. What I'd initially taken for some sort of garment was not. A wide leather band of leather circled the 'man dog's lower thigh and upper calf strapping the two tightly together. The result meant that he, it, would be permanently forced to crawl on hands and knees unable to stand upright.
"How long, how long does he stay like that?" I asked wondering how painful it must be. At the very least, it must be horribly uncomfortable.
Celine shrugged. "Who cares. The longer, the better for it, I think. At least it can move quicker. Dar likes to put them in her car and take them somewhere private to give them a run out sometimes. Some owners bind up their front legs same way, but then they are good only as lapdogs, too slow, but they make a good pet for the house. She laughed "Or for the bedroom. Da trained a lovely girl poodle puppy for a girlfriend of mine. Poor puppy does not need to go very far other than to do her poopies. She keeps it in a basket near her bed" Celine finished with a giggle and rapidly ran a wiggling tongue sensuously around her lips several times. "very well trained!"
I remember shaking my head. It was a different world. A completely different world. A world that as far as I knew only existed within the pages of some of the more extreme sadomasochistic books available from one or two discrete sources around Soho square. The difference of course that what I was looking at was real! No, not just real but to the likes of Celine, Anne and Darcia, also perfectly normal. Incredible.
"Want to see it up close?" My companion asked. She gestured to a catch on the door. I realised that on this side, the entrance doors were split rather like the traditional doors in a stable stall. Presumably to allow a normal person to enter or if the iron ceiling was lowered, to allow the lowly occupant to entrance or exit.
Celine flicked a catch with one finger and laughed delightedly. "Simple, no? I can do so and the dog it cannot. One teeny little move with one teeny finger and the door is open for me." She gestured to the occupant. "It cannot, never, not with its paws; it is forever trapped. Poor sad dog" she giggled.
"Do they ever come off?" I asked. "Their hands, I mean their paws, those leather mitt things."
"Maybe, Maybe not, I think perhaps some people do so to cut nails. These no need, Anne removes them, so they have no bother".
Removes them! You mean she pulls them out?" I gasped in horror vision of some ghastly WW2 Gestapo interrogation coming to mind. Strange, I remember reflecting on that while I was heading home later. Was there all that much difference after all between that and me flogging the wretched creature, given the condition it was already in?"
Celine shook her head. "No, I know people who would do that with no thought, but Da is too kind, Anne used to be a nurse she gives them a...how you call it, with a needle?" She made a gesture bringing the index finger and thumb on her right hand together.
"Oui, something to kill the ends for a bit to stop the hurt when she pulls them out".
Once again there was a lengthy pause, silence in the plush room while she paused starting sightlessly out of the window, a window that for her was looking back through the years and not at the red double-decker buses and black taxi cabs undoubtedly passing below. I was back in the present, but she was clearly still back in the past in that cellar room. Idly I wondered if it still existed and what had happened to Anne and Darcia?
She suddenly shivered and collected herself. "Silly is it not. I have done many things, horrible things to such...such animals over the years, cruel things but never....." Her voice trailed off, and she sighed. "I suppose we all have our limits. I never went in much for body modifications like that. I find this modern habit of piercing everything alarming. They have a young waitress here, but I had to ask them not to let her serve me. Nothing whatsoever against the girl she seems very personable and efficient, it's just I feel so queasy when I see the piercings and the horrible way she has stretched her earlobes".
I smiled politely. "I'm surprised they allow it in this type of upmarket hotel?"
"Why ever not?" she instantly snapped back. "It's the trend among young people today and some not so young so who am I to criticise" She laughed. "Shit" She abruptly put a horrified hand to her mouth. "Whoops, excuse me, but I was going to say, who am I to say anything about anything a little odd given my background.
Anyway, I know they have recruitment problems. The chain that took them over is apparently nothing like as benevolent with wages as when it was in private hands".
"And the service. Nothing a few strokes of the cane couldn't improve?"
"Ah, given how it used to be maybe years ago, more than a few and on a good many lazy bottoms" she agreed with a chuckle reaching for the coffee pot, hefting it for a moment then putting it down. "Still warm and half full, a little early perhaps to order more".
I nodded and waited.
"Well, I suppose I did perhaps have double standards" she admitted. " I never went in for the sort of intimate body additions some owners preferred, nipple and nose rings, that sort of thing. I've seen some shockers. But I had no objection to some exotic tattooing and of course the branding iron!"
I shuddered, which caused her to laugh in a rather unpleasant way.
"On reflection" she noted, "maybe Anne was considerably kinder than I was, the animals she declawed might have been shocked at what she did to them, but at least they were spared the pain. Whereas when I used a branding iron...." She sighed. "Well, it was as much about humiliation and total debasement rather than the pain, the ultimate demeaning touch in their irreversible transformation as they became mere beasts, to carry forever the proud mark of their owner burnt into their miserable skins. Pain fades from the memory quickly, but a brand on the hide is there forever!"
"Forever?" I echoed.
She nodded. "No underground railway in this world, no abolitionists, no safe states, no parole, no soft left-wing sentimentality pushing for early release, nothing but a life of hell under the kiss of their owner's whips and many other cruel whims." She paused again then smiled softly and added emphatically "....and I was to love every single fucking minute of it!"
Chapter five (added: 2020/06/17)
Once more, there was another of those long pauses, and I sat quietly patiently waiting for her to continue. It was a bit like some early computer program or game I reflected. A lengthy hiatus while the next large segment of data was uploaded into memory and ready to be used. Not in itself all that long an interval yet long enough to disrupt the smooth flow. No flashing colours on the screen though to dazzle you as those first-generation home computers frequently had. I wondered if the current crop of retro reproductions even replicated that long loading sequence. My reverie along that thread was disturbed by the chink of her gently placing a cup back on its saucer. She caught my eye, smiled and folded her hands on her lap and then began the next instalment.
"I remember taking a taxi home that evening. It was not very far to my place, but I remember feeling weak, weak and drained at the time but oh so ecstatic. All reservations that I may have had earlier were now but a distant memory. Very distant! Likewise, my sadistic fantasies and erotic daydreams. Well, perhaps not gone but now replaced with a delicious reality that I was only beginning to come to terms with. I felt decidedly weak about the knees so had waved down a passing black cab to save my flagging legs."
"We all have fantasies" I mused aloud, many of them erotic, "but to be able to indulge in them!"
She broke off and abruptly laughed. "Exactly. Quite, what's that term, quite mind-boggling. To be able to...to do and have no restraint, no restriction and above all no compliance, not willingly anyway" She paused and shook her head as though still disbelieving even after all these years.
"I have no idea what the driver talked about" She added a moment later picking up her the thread again. "They always do talk don't they" she noted with a chuckle "I don't think I have ever been in a black cab and had a completely silent driver. Not in London. Politics, football, the state of the country, politics, the economy, state of the roads, politics again. Well, this one could have announced that he was going to drive me somewhere quiet then rape and murder me and I expect I'd only have grunted absent-minded assent! My thoughts were far too taken up with the events of the previous few hours to pay any attention. It was only the disgruntled cough and dirty look I got when I paid the fare that reminded me to add a tip!"
"Risky" I observed and was rewarded with a chuckle and a wide smile. "You seem to have skipped a little though" I chided. "As I recall you and Celine were examining human puppies and slaves in her friend's private little dungeon complex.
She nodded. "Correct, we visited three of the four creatures unlucky enough to be in those inescapable cages. I felt quite sorry for the poor things I seem to recall. Not sorry enough to even think about doing something to help them, of course, another part of me was way too excited by everything I saw and not just seeing either. I was touching, feeling, squeezing, caressing" She laughed again. "even smelling would you believe and no" she added seeing my look. "No, I didn't start rubbing my nose all over the creatures; it was the general smell in the air down in that stuffy basement room. You can smell actually fear you know and that was the very first time I experienced that heady aroma. Weird is it not. How can you possibly smell an emotion? You can though when it is strong" she finished thoughtfully.
"Possibly a mixture of other smells " I suggested quietly.
"Mmmm, a cocktail of fear?" she speculated quietly. "You might be correct. It is not something I have ever thought over deeply about. Maybe my imagination puts certain distinct smells together and adds that simple label. She frowned. "People have often mentioned it, and perhaps I simplified something more complex in my mind. Whatever, I have lived on an almost daily basis with that heady aroma for virtually two-thirds of my life and long become accustomed to it".
"Could you describe it?"
She gave me a hard look for a moment then laughed. "Its mentioned in fiction but I doubt that even the greatest writers of literature who have lived could accomplish that task satisfactorily. Yes, to what you see, hear, taste, touch even, but a smell!" she smiled and then gestured around with one hand and then wagged a finger toward me. "How would you describe this room in that context?"
I looked around me very slowly conscious of her eyes on me. A challenge, could I rise to it? Did it even have a distinct aroma? My impression was more visual than anything else. I knew that she was right; I could see and describe lots, I could touch, feel, colour, shades, material, items, objects. I could hear the loud, steady ticking of the clock on the mantlepiece and my ears quickly became conscious of my breathing, muffled indistinct sounds from the hotel and muted traffic from outside. Smell? I closed my eyes.
I admitted defeat. "Ok, I give up. Old is the only word that quickly comes to mind. It sort of smells old, maybe a vague whiff of leather, leather and furniture polish plus a sort of...of timeless stuffiness. Sounds kinda lame but it is hard to describe" I said ruefully biting the bullet.
"Old" she repeated and looked around as I had just done. "Perhaps? We often simplify something that is possibly very complex. I said fear, you said old, but in this room, I understood instantly what you meant as perhaps you do when I use the word fear in my context?"
She paused then glanced quizzically at the coffee pot again and raised her eyebrows in a silent question. I shook my head, and half put one hand over my cup in a reciprocal silent gestured. She nodded and then suddenly laughed again.
"Actually " she recollected wagging a finger absently. "There was some genuine and for real sniffing and smelling with noses now I come to think about it. Celine took me in one dog pen and flicked a latch to open the adjoining one so that I could get a closer look at the poor men who came crawling around our legs. Men, no they were no longer men I realised as I watched Celine snapping her fingers and giving simple orders to the pair just as though they were real canines".
"It took a couple of moments for it to sink in, but then I realised that to her that's precisely what they now were. Dogs. Human beings restricted and restrained but reduced to a level of existence and behaviour that mirrored canine behaviour to an advanced degree. I realised with I suppose a slight shock that we looked down upon them from two different perspectives. To me, they were two poor men reduced to that humiliating posture and complying with the demeaning role assigned to them.
To Celine, however, their humanity was merely a cosmetic of shape and form. Her attitude to the pair would doubtlessly have been the same had they been a pair of real puppies eagerly grovelling at our feet. The major difference I noted was perhaps not one of species but more one of treatment. I doubted if the cruellest of dog owners would have subjected their pets to the beatings this pair had evidently received. Their bodies bore the scars of numerous severe corrective lessons, both old and new!
They fawned around us, bodies leaning in, faces pressed to my boots and jeans sniffing, smelling, rubbing heads and bodies against me. They yelped and yapped even growled a little. Celine snapped her fingers and thrust a foot out and instantly the nearest 'hound' was head down lathering at her footwear with a busy pink tongue flicking away. She caught my look and laughed.
"Good, yes? I like doggies almost as much as my ponies...well, non no, perhaps not so." She considered and grinned conspiratorially and pointed down at the creature energetically licking her shoe. "Good strong tongues, very useful sometimes for licking other places sometimes, nice interesting, fun places! I think perhaps the two dancers who help Anne enjoy such wet doggie tongues perhaps. " She giggled, paused and withdrew her foot using it to give the 'hound' a sharp kick in the ribs. "Off, corner, sit" she snapped her fingers again then pointed. "no good for pulling my carriages though on four legs".
I realised that the other hound was next to me and has assumed the classic begging position panting heavily. I'd absently been running my hand over the thin stubble on his scalp almost as though subconsciously stroking him as I watched Celine. I looked down at him, trying to read something in his face and eyes. Yes, it was there. I could see it in his eyes. That spark of humanity, yes it was still there, that gleam of intelligence, a brain that still functioned in all respects and yet...something else, something I had seen before, what was it?
I recalled being taken to a rescue centre as a child to get a puppy. I choose an older dog instead, a poor sad black Labrador that had been badly mistreated by its previous owner. Now I saw that very same distressed bruised look in the depths of this human dogs eyes, but I felt not an ounce of sympathy or compassion for this naked abused creature. Instead, I was filled with excitement and admiration for those who's cruelty had reduced it to this pitiful grovelling state.
Celine was watching, me intently and must have guessed my train of thought for she pointed and laughed. "Voila, see the excellent work of Anne and Da, they have left their signatures good on these two hounds, no?
"I glanced down at the extensive scars both bore and realised with a sudden shudder just what Celine meant. Of course, I was more naive back then, perhaps less hardened in my attitude, softer maybe? Perhaps? I changed though and quickly as always happens. I experienced that change and have seen it happen in others on many occasions. Shock, horror, outrage, yet those first emotions fade almost at once to be replaced by an evil desire to participate in such sadistic, cruel devilry!"
There was another pause, this time only a short one as she stopped for a moment to consider something and looked thoughtfully at me before seemingly making her mind up.
"Yes, we all change. The last time I witnessed such was less than a fortnight ago at my stables and training facility, a new client of my niece paying her first visit. You would almost certainly recognise her, cute, young, sings, models, acts, also one of those so-called 'influencers' that are all over social media these days. This one with an income to rival the GDP of a small country! A tiny little thing yet she bought four large ponies".
I raised an eyebrow. "Four?"
"Four" the slight figure opposite confirmed. "Not unusual but rare. One or sometimes two is the norm. Four in one go is fairly exceptional though."
"Lucrative?" I offered.
She laughed. "Oh, my, of course, lucrative you silly. In a world that predominantly deals in peanuts, I have invariably been handsomely paid in coconuts for my services and products time and time again!" Her eyes sparkled, and she winked at me. "Just don't ask the how much question, bad form in my world".
"If you have to ask then you can't afford it" I quoted the age-old adage.
"Precisely" she chuckled. "Let us just say that my niece could easily have taken early retirement, very early retirement and in comfort on that one transaction. Not that she would even contemplate such a thing of course. The girl takes after me, enjoys what she does far too much even to contemplate moving to a more normal lifestyle. Anyway, she's far too young to put her feet up and as I just said, once bitten..." her voice trailed off.
"I take it that the young lady you just mentioned was 'well bitten'?"
There was another laugh. "Oh, my goodness, I'll say she was! The little....well, perhaps the term 'dear' would be inappropriate. Her fans might find her endearing, but I certainly did not. Nor I fear will those wretched ponies that she purchased. I suspect that it will not be long before she is back looking for replacements!" she sighed. "They are her property now to do with as she chooses. Nor is she unique, it is probably the one thing common to all of us no matter how our individual tastes and little peccadillos develop later. That first thrill of power and control over a helpless unwilling subject, be it pony, dog, slave or whatever. That...that what could you call it? That first step to..." she broke off to ponder.
"Absolute, unlimited sadism" I offered.
She made a wry face. "Possibly, I am not sure that would precisely describe what I mean." She pondered for a few more seconds. "In some ways, I suppose yes, although I know of one or two who would feel somewhat offended at that. I knew of an aristocratic lady in Italy that kept an entire aviary of exotically tattooed 'birds' all caged and sitting prettily on their perches for her visual gratification!
"Perches!" I exclaimed.
"So, I was told. Highly uncomfortable I would imagine not to say tedious to the ultimate degree for the respective unfortunates! Yet she prided herself on her 'kindness' in never ever laying a hand or implement of correction on any one of her exotic pets and scorns those that differ! I would imagine that the lady in question would object to being called a sadist yet when one considers..." her voice trailed off into thought.
I also pondered on the probable daily existence of those incarcerated in such cages and shuddered.
She noticed and gave a sort of rueful laugh. "Well, I am a little too long in the tooth now for any regrets, but at least my creatures enjoyed a slightly more varied and considerably less sedentary lifestyle even if I did apply leather and bamboo to their hides regularly!" she paused and then added, "but I am veering a little off my original thread yet again aren't I?"
I smiled and nodded. "Yes, ma'am, but always in an interesting way".
"My mind was running along parallel lines of thought, one from many years ago and one just a few days ago. I suppose I was seeing something of my younger self and my first reactions to this, this unique lifestyle in the way that sadistic little miss reacted to the exciting new world that was opening up before her eyes. Over made-up eyes!". She paused to sniff disapprovingly. "Not that I behaved like that spoilt brat nor ever would. I applied leather to quivering flesh initially because some wretch paid me to do it and I needed the money. I suppose there was a brief, a very brief period when I did so simply for fun because I could and with no silly annoying limits being imposed. That soon changed though as I became more professional and I could mix business with pleasure!".
She stopped to refill her coffee cup, and I shook my head, making a negative gesture in response to her questioning glance. I waited while she took a sip and then a second.
"Hmm. I do like the coffee here. I confess that I have never been a tea person. I can't even remember the last cup I had. Probably way back to my 'working days' before I opened my own establishment."
"So that wasn't work?"
That remark produced one of her loudest laughs. "Heavens no, I doubt that there was a single day when I didn't leap out of my bed at the crack of dawn, ever eager to exert my absolute authority upon those who waited helplessly in much meagre accommodation lacking even a bed! I need to backtrack a little again, though."
She took a third sip and then placed the cup back on its saucer then absently felt the warmth of the coffee pot with one palm as she collected her thoughts once more.
"I don't remember how long I spent with Celine down in her friend's private little dungeon. I can't even remember being cruel in any way nor as I recollect was there a need. Those two cringing pups of Darcia's had been so well trained. Trained but not entirely broken, I could read that in their sad eyes, yet they dared not do a single thing that might bring the wrath of their owner or her friends down upon them. I thought of Anne and the new pup in the room behind us and understood why. That brief look of hope as I entered died immediately as they no doubt saw that same look of cruel anticipation in my eyes!".
She nodded to herself. "Yes, I had left behind me the fetish world of bizarre glossy magazines and Eric Stanton drawings, of impossibly high heels, leather and exotic make up, of posers and play-actors, to enter into a world of doers rather than dreamers! Executors like Anne who needed none of the conventional dominatrix accoutrements to go about her business ruthlessly. I doubted if even the most die-hard fetish obsessed masochist would have found much to wank himself off over after thirty minutes with her. Not that she'd have allowed such liberty for one moment of course!"
"She sounds rather terrifying!"
That remark produced another wicked chuckle. "Oh, we are all terrifying dear. Quite terrifying! Each of us in our own particular ways, though perhaps inevitably some individuals are more frightening, more deadly, eviller than others. If I had to describe Anne in one word or maybe two, I should say 'Single-minded'. Anne had a job to do, and she did it superbly well, a position that she certainly enjoyed and I understood one with few if any limits placed upon her, I was to make use of her talents myself later and never had cause for complaint."
"The dogs were not the only residents?" I reminded her.
She shook her head. "Oh no, Darcia may have shared a bed with her husband when at home but her preferences leaned heavily towards pretty young girls. Preferably an unwilling one, perhaps a more willing compliant one but with a bit of spirit like Celine for occasional fun but mostly those that she left in Anne's care. I did learn later that a wet and energetic male puppy tongue would suffice if she were in a certain mood. Normally though she preferred to be as active in bed and she was in all the other aspects of her busy life. Celine led me out of the dog kennels and over to the two occupied cells opposite."
She stopped her narrative for at that moment the large radiator under the large bay window decided to rumble and then shake very noisily and continued to do so for about thirty seconds before the sounds slowly died away.
"They warned me about that elderly cast-iron monster three years ago" she laughed. "The heating system is ancient, and they've never been able to find out why it does that? At least it behaves itself at night, well if it does misbehave it has never disturbed my sleep. Anyway, as Celine firmly closed the cage door on the dogs, it was time to turn our attention to the two girls. I remember Celine giving a giggle and a little wave of her hand to the two human canines just to remind them how simple it was for her to open and close the iron gate that denied them their freedom, Easy for her but impossible for them!"
"Like your Italian lady, you don't need a whip to be cruel" I noted.
"Indeed" she replied, flashing me a quick smile. "No doubt the two girls we now turned our attention upon would have preferred a less punitive regime. Although neither of their nubile young bodies displayed anywhere near the evidence of that regime as upon the hides of the wretched dogs kennelled opposite, neither was unmarked."
"They stood silent and stiffly to attention each in the centre of her own cell: one blonde, the other younger and brunette. The natural pretty faces blank and expressionless as they stared as some fixed point that only they could see. Faces much augmented by the generous application of makeup to enhances that which nature had given them. Likewise, their figures clad in scanty lingerie, stockings, suspenders, long soft shimmering evening gloves and high stiletto heels. Darla's taste in 'eye candy' obviously mirrored that published in the various soft porn glossy magazines available."
"Hands up on your heads bitches" Celine startled me by barking out the order like a diminutive sergeant major drilling a bunch of raw recruits. "Heads up, stand straight, tits out, show us all you've got ladies" she sneered. "or would you rather I told your Mistress how slack her lazy little whores are getting, eh? Can't be bothered to look your best when her visitors call!"
"To be honest, I could barely tell the difference as they both jumped to adjust their postures. Evidently, there was one because Celine grunted in satisfaction. Much better bitches". She turned and unhooked a key hanging on the opposite wall just past the dog pens and opened the nearest cell beckoning me to follow. Just as with the dogs that little touch of psychological cruelty was evident. That key hanging so clearly in view and yet so far away!"
"Another touch was the slender bamboo cane dangling via its crook handle from a peg on the rear wall. An ever-present silent threat to the cells unfortunate occupant. Celine strode brusquely past the stiff, motionless girl and grabbed the cane returning to tap the business end on one trembling heavy breast lightly."
"This big tittied cow is ..."She stopped and giggled. "Tell my friend what your name was bitch" she ordered tapping the girl again.
"The girl was beautiful, big sad brown eyes, long wavy brunette hair and immaculately made up. I noted the small dresser with a large oval mirror along one side, and although the top was clear, I suspected that the various drawers contained everything she needed to maintain her model appearance. I doubt that she was more than twenty-one years old, hard to tell with all the paint and powder on but somehow I didn't think she was much past that"
"Number sixtee.....ooohhhh, no, ohhhh!" the girl started to speak but then screamed as Celine cut her sharply across one breast with the cane. Her posture crumbled, and she automatically raised her arms for a second to protect herself but instantly stopped and swiftly assumed her previous stance.
"Idiot" Celine snapped and gave her a second cut this time on the other generous breast. "I asked you what your name was before Mistress Darcia invited you to live with her, stupid cow!"
"Annabelle, my name was Annabelle Mistress Celine, Annabelle" the girl sobbed.
"Such a pretty name" Celine sniggered lightly running the yip of her cane along the length of the fresh livid wheal that marred the girls left breast. "Must too nice for a cock sucking little slut like you I think".
"Yes, Mistress Cel....oooohhh, please, no!"
The cane had flicked up and down once again to leave a new mark parallel with its predecessor. Celine shook her head and tapped the girl on the lips with the end of the cane.
"Naughty, I wasn't asking a question, girl. I was making a statement. Not that you have ever licked or sucked a real cock have you, just those dildos your Mistress deems worthy of regularly ramming in both your tight little fuck holes!"
"The girls' eyes grew moist as they flickered from Celine to the cane then to me and back to Celine. Poor girl, she didn't know whether or not she should say anything but obviously terrified of getting hit again. The cane moved slightly and poked the right nipple a couple of times then it moved downwards to tap upon her shaven love-box provoking a quickly stifled wince.
Celine slowly moistened her lips, leering at her hapless victim. "That's alright baby; you can relax; it's not as though I am a total stranger like my friend here. I mean we've shared some beautiful times together haven't we?
There was a very brief silence then just as the cane flipped ominously upwards the girl gasped out "Yes Mistress, yes, lovely times, lovely, please....."
"Celine laughed. "Number sixteen here, otherwise once known as Annabelle was a sweet innocent little virgin before Dar got her nasty claws into her. Never so much as seen a real naked erect cock I expect and probably never will!" She reached out with her other hand and squeezed the girls right breast invoking another anguished wince. " This juicy, soft slave girl flesh is far too tasty for any male brute too appreciate properly."
"I was watching closely, fascinated by the sheer power Celine so easily exercised over a girl that could only have been a few years younger than she was. Not only that, the girl, number sixteen, was also somewhat taller and that wasn't entirely due to the four-inch patent court shoes on her feet. She was long-legged with a generous but trim figure. Another dancer? Perhaps not, a little well-endowed in the breast department. Model, an aspiring actress? No matter whatever ambitions she may have once had were no longer relevant.
I glanced across to the two dogs patiently watching everything through those so sad eyes then back to the two girls standing rigid with their hands clasped upon their heads. Their faces almost but not quite expressionless as they strove to maintain the required posture and not react to the humiliations both had become so accustomed to receiving.
There was a stark contrast between the restrained brutalised, dehumanised puppy boys opposite and the two sexy scented girls housed just a few feet away. Neither set was being spared Darla's cruelty and absolute authority but it was evident that the girls enjoyed, if that were the appropriate word, enjoyed a far more preferable existence to their forcibly 'canined' counterparts.
Unlike the spartan cages opposite that were empty bar the occupants and a meagre collection of items to serve their basic animal needs. Naked brick walls, iron bars, two metal feeding bowls, a round oversized dog bed, a large litter tray in one corner and a sparse scattering of dirty straw upon the concrete floor. The girls' accommodation provided a complete contrast that at first slightly startled the eye given the bleakness that housed those opposite them!
The enclosures lined both sides of the narrow passage, but one set was medieval, zoo-like, dark, bleak, primitive in the extreme. The other reflected perhaps a more modern and enlightened prison regime bar the ominous cane hanging upon one wall, an ever-present reminder to those held captive within of their owner's absolute authority!
The cell walls were plastered and decorated in soft pastel shades of cream and pink, even the metal bars to the front were pained alternately in three shades of pink. The girls' heel shod feet enjoyed the luxury of grey industrial style carpeting rather than cold concrete and mouldering straw. Each cell contained a single bed, narrow but with a comfortable looking mattress and a bare plump pillow. The bedding was neatly arranged in a compact square at the head end, sheets and blankets folded tightly with another blanket wrapped around the bundle holding everything tight.
"Bed pack" Celine laughed, noting my attention and momentarily taking a break from her intimate explorations of the helpless girl in front of her. Her right hand was still holding the cane but also grasping the girls left shoulder holding her tight while several fingers of her other hand were hidden from sight as they explored the trembling girl's vagina. "Anne's idea, she was a sergeant in the army, they have to strip the beds each morning and make up the bedding packs as well as make sure every other item is in its right place for morning inspection, and everything had better be just perfect, eh bitch?".
"Number sixteen suddenly screamed in agony and would have moved had not Celine been holding her so tightly. That slim length of bamboo had not moved so I surmised that the fingernails of Celine's other hand must have maliciously nipped a very tender piece of flesh in that moist hole they were casually exploring.
"What happens to lazy girls who can't keep their room tidy for sergeant Anne, sixteen?" Celine asked, and I saw her features twist into a cruel little smile as once again, some very tender flesh must have been cruelly nipped within her victims most private sanctum.
"Yooowwww, no please, no Mistress, no...."
Answer my question then girl. What happens to lazy little sluts, tell us?"
"They get punished Mistress Celine" the girl sobbed.
Celine laughed delightedly. "Oui my sweet pretty, naturellement, of course, you get punished, and how does Sergeant Anne punish you?
I stood watching the humiliating little interplay. The heavy coating of makeup could not entirely conceal the deep mortified hue her face took on as Celine so mercilessly shamed her. I could see how tense she was, how stiff, how humiliated, angry even and yet she dare not show the slightest sign of rebellion, her eyes mesmerised by the tip of that menacing length of flexible bamboo.
"She, she canes us, Mistress."
The item itself swung up and down quickly hissing through empty air. "Oui chérie" Celine agreed and then used it to make a turning motion. "Show us your pretty bottom and let us see if you have been a good or a bad girl recently, yes?".
The girl obediently made a one hundred and eighty-degree turn to face the rear wall her hands still clasped tightly together on top of her head. In addition to the narrow bed and dressing table, the small cell contained an open-fronted wardrobe complete with hanging rail and several well-stacked shoe racks at the bottom plus a small chest of drawers next to it. The only other two items were a little white handbasin with a single tap, and under the bed, I spied a large white chamber pot. Not very luxurious but as stated earlier, a vast improvement in living conditions over the two unfortunates housed, or rather kennelled opposite them.
Celine giggled and pointed to the girls bottom with her cane. "Look leather and lace, one for Anne and one for Dar, see!" The tip of her cane danced lightly from one buttock cheek to the other and back again.
Leather and lace! I saw immediately what she meant, and she wasn't referring to the sexy lingerie her victim wore. Neither of the two captives I had noticed when we entered was naked. Evidently, Darla enjoyed the sight of young nubile lingerie-clad female bodies every bit as much as a lustful male counterpart might. No doubt the two unfortunate females found the obligation to apply immaculate make and dress in such a revealing erotic fashion an additional humiliation especially as it was solely to 'titillate' their female owner!
However, I realised that Celine was not referring to their attire but to the shapely buttocks turned towards us, devoid of panties but framed by long black suspender straps that supported black seamed stockings. The left buttock cheeks of both girls were pale relatively smooth creamy white orbs whereas their respective right counterparts presented a total contrast. These being of a darker red mottled with purple and blue bruising, covered with many marks old and new where that cane had left its bite.
Celine repeated her action tapping first one trembling buttock cheek then the other with the implement that had impartially tasted that same flesh on numerous occasions. "See," she said jabbing the blunt tip into the less sullied white buttock. "Darla prefers a blank canvass for when she plays with her pretty toys. One for Da to play with and one for Anne to ensure obedience" The cane quickly flipped up and down sinking into the soft flesh and eliciting a howl of anguish from the brunette, her arms briefly twitched as she resisted the urge to unclasp her hands and drop them to protect herself.
"Whoops," Celine giggled and then winked at me. "We will blame it on Anne, yes? Sometimes she forgets and misses her proper target when the dolls make her very angry!".
I eyed the fresh livid weal on the girls bottom, and a sudden thrill of sadistic longing surged through me triggering both erotic thoughts and deep sexual sensations. I eyed that mark on the nubile young miss's posterior and the idea of that pretty face buried deep between my legs after I'd added a slow dozen or more such painful adornments .....Mmmm, was I a closet lesbian I wondered? I looked back across to the puppy pens...".
Another pause and once more, I was conscious of the loud clicking of the mantelpiece, and the muted rumble of London traffic beyond the windows as her voice trailed off again as she considered something for a few seconds before she continued.
" I had not thought about it before today, but I think I realised at that point that most of...what shall I call us? Sadists, no not sadists at least not in the sense I mean. Too crude. Connoisseurs perhaps. Connoisseurs of helpless human flesh perhaps? Like someone who appreciates the very finest of wines, be they red or white it may matter little to them if the taste is admirable. True they may favour one over the other but are happy to sample and enjoy both. So, it is with me and most of my associates, even the term bisexual, has not the same meaning. It is the act of dominance, of undisputed mastery over a helpless subjects unwilling, submission whether male or female that provides that peak, that summit of sensual sexual perfection.
She broke off to laugh aloud at herself. "My I am getting wordy, aren't I?" She shook her head. I am sure that you have no conception as to what I was trying to say have you?" she smiled.
I pursed my lips and gave her a wry smile in return. "I think you have conveyed the basic idea to me" I replied. "You left one thing out though which probably adds as much to your thought process."
"Indeed?" she was curious.
I nodded. "I think," I said, slowly trying to formulate what I wanted to say. "I think you mentioned it in one sentence a moment ago. You said unwilling submission, the keyword as I see it being unwilling. Would you have had those same lustful feelings had that girl or one of Darla's dogs crawled between your legs as a willing participant? I think perhaps not?"
"You are undoubtedly, right. I have known many beautiful women in my life, and indeed many handsome, virile men but not a one has, how shall we say, pressed my trigger in the same way as the many helpless wretches that I have handled and in most cases, I might add handled with what most people would think the utmost cruelty!".
There was once again a long moment of silence before she sighed and looked at her watch then chuckled. "Strange, I seem to have a vivid memory of Celine looking at her watch all those years ago and saying something about it being time for her to get ready for Darla. I remember looking longingly at the brunette and then across at the puppy boys, oh how I would have loved to have spent a few hours with them all by myself." She paused and laughed gently. "Very bad form in my world, of course, to amuse yourself with someone else's human property without their owner's permission.
"That tends to be the general rule with most people's possessions" I observed.
"Hmm, correct, but the consequences of breaking such unwritten rules of etiquette in my circle have can be rather severe and I might add permanent! I knew of one pretty but somewhat stupid young lady who assumed that because her vocal cords had sold an exceeding large number of vinyl disks, that fact plus the size of her bank balance would serve to immunise her when taking overt liberties with someone else's pets that she took a fancy too. Bad mistake. That particular indignant owner had vastly more superior resources and promptly added the silly young bitch to her collection.
I thought about that for a moment. "Would that have bee...."
She quickly stopped me by raising a finger to her lips. "No need to talk about it further or to ask questions. Suffice to say that the matter is now long forgotten by most folk, over and done with....even if not for her"
I blinked in astonishment, considering the time scale if my supposition were correct. "She's still alive?"
"Alive? Well, I suppose you could call it that. She still sings most beautifully; I heard her only a few months ago. Her owner had her shaved permanently bald and then tattooed all over in the most vivid glorious colours, faded quite considerably now mind but she was so gorgeous when it was first done. She kept her in a large cage hanging from a stand like a pet canary complete with perch to sit upon and taught her to sing on command. Her daughter owns her now, and she still sings so sweetly. Something wrong dear?".
I caught hold of myself. I realised I must have been registering a particular horror at the casual impassive way this diminutive yet cruelly terrible woman sitting opposite me had so indifferently described a life or absolute awfulness. I shook my head and smiled ruefully wondering if there was any connection to the Italian lady she'd mentioned earlier.
"Perhaps I misjudged you a little" I confessed. "Foolish, I suppose in the context of this interview".
"Very foolish. Anyway, I digressed again, back to Celine I think."
I nodded my agreement. "Yes, we seem to have detoured somewhat from our first session when you were telling me about Malcolm, your first, err victim as I recall you saying"
"Quite correct. Malcolm was my... what shall I call him? My right of passage, I suppose, or perhaps right of entry would be a better way to put it." She paused and considered. "Yes, Malcolm was definitely my entry ticket and we briefly journeyed together into a wonderful new world." She paused and gave a rueful little smile. "Wonderful for me anyway!"
This time she gave a hearty laugh and exclaimed. "Oh, my goodness, yes. I had found my path to fame and fortune and it was certainly paved with gold, nay platinum even!"
"In a sense, albeit a limited one. This particular elderly fish only inhabited a tiny pond, but over time I became the best, the most sought after, one of the most respected members of our unique shoal" she chuckled and then gave me a mischievous grin. "I was hardly likely to make the cover of Time magazine after all was I?"
I raised my eyebrows. "Only in a rather sensational and unpleasant way, I'd imagine. Shark rather than minnow " I added cheekily.
"Ah, yes. Sharks we all are and with very nasty bites as those unfortunate enough to fall into our little pond soon find out. Anyone unlucky enough to even put so much as a toe near the water is quickly gobbled up and never so much as a toenail spat back upon the shore to mark their passing!"
"But some like Malcolm put far more than a toe in and came willingly, at least to you in one sense?
She reached down and felt the side of the coffee pot, hefted it and considered for a second then made her mind up shaking her head. "No, I think not. I want to get this part of my story finished with and then we can move onto new ground. Another interruption and I will no doubt lose my thread all over again!"
I smiled. "That's fine with me ma'am. Another coffee and I might have to ask for a short break!"
She chuckled, "Wait till you reach my age" thought for a moment and then resumed her narrative. "I told you earlier about my feelings as I drove home in the taxi after my visit to Darla's house and my tour of her private little dungeon. I sat there imagining Darla and Celine laying together in some vast, luxurious bed with probably one or more of the households captive occupants in attendance adding to their fun. Boy did I indulge in a serious bout of 'self-indulgence' as soon as I got back to my place. Oh, if only I could have taken one of Darla's little pets home with me! Anyway, as she showed me out, Celine had insisted that we meet again next day back in the café where we'd first met so that we could talk some serious business."
"Your first commission?"
"Precisely. Over a coffee, Celine gave me a shortlist of...well, let us call it her shopping list. Actually, to be strictly accurate it wasn't so much her list as one that specified her customers varied requirements...yes, you have a question?" She broke off with some degree of irritation showing.
"Sorry, but something just occurred to me that struck me as a little odd."
"Indeed, well, by all means, please ask you question then"
"Thank you." I considered for a brief second. "You have told me that you were by profession at this time a rather high class and expensive Dominatrix?"
"True, some people might have used the term 'high class' certainly I tried to raise myself above the average backstreet whore with a cane level, which to be honest didn't take too much effort. I would take issue though on being expensive, my charges might have been on the higher side, but I certainly wasn't unaffordable to those who sought my services. I like to think that I gave value for money". She paused and shook her head. "In these days of the internet and social media when everything is so much quicker and easier, I am aware of numerous modern contemporaries who would certainly fit your description. Two I know of operate and procure in the same way that I was to."
I nodded. "I did an article a year, or so back, maybe I even met one of them. A lot of them look the part and yet..."
She snorted contemptuously. "Mind you underneath all the false eyelashes, face paint and glossy website images I expect that most remain firmly in the 'whore with a cane' category with regards to imagination and finesse! However, I believe I know what point you were about to make. Given the predilections of most of Celine's customers, why would any of them want to acquire anyone with submissive tendencies, yes?"
I nodded yet again. "That was exactly my question to be" I replied and added, "Sorry to interrupt your flow again."
She smiled briefly and made a gracious dismissive gesture with one hand. "Perfectly alright but you did jump in a tad too early for I was just about to cover that very same point. You are correct of course as I know only too well the personal delight of introducing a new subject to the painful world of whip, crop and cane. That challenging but oh so enjoyable period of 'attitude adjustment' appropriate to their new role in life. Indeed, the more truculent and rebellious the individual, then the greater the pleasure and ultimate satisfaction when you achieve your aim. As I am sure you have noted, I am of a somewhat diminutive stature, a little due to age but even when younger and wearing the very highest of heels I rarely towered in domination over my submissives unless they grovelled at my feet.
"Which they did?"
Her gentle laugh sounded again. "If I demanded it, of course. My particular delight, indeed, perhaps the one thing I relished above all others was to bring some huge recalcitrant beast be it male or female to heel, to total submission to total instant obedience as desired by its owner." She paused and shrugged her shoulders before adding. "Grovelling at feet as was not really my thing. On a day to day practical basis, it would merely have been a trip hazard! My beasts tended to remain on two legs mostly but no doubt they would have grovelled adequately once my whips, canes and crops had done their work!"
She glanced at the clock and then rechecked her watch. "Time is getting on. I will quickly finish this section of narrative and then....I must be away from here early in the morning. I have a funeral to attend in the north, sadly that of a dear old friend and there are also certain....certain arrangements to be made regarding rehoming some of her more 'personal' possessions as well as a degree of house clearing that I will need to supervise. You are available shall we say at one pm on Tuesday next?"
"Certainly" I responded, it had seemed more like an order than a request.
"Good, then I shall be brief as I seem to tire so easily at times these days. Celine passed me over her list, and we quietly discussed the sort of, well, shall we say merchandise she was particularly desirous of acquiring. She elaborated somewhat on the brief notes highlighted on the list. There were she told me certain buyers who did have a penchant for owning those whose sexual inclinations were of a submissive nature. They invariably found it so amusing to cater to those very same submissive inclinations but to a degree both unimagined and of course totally unacceptable to their new possessions. A submission that would last a lifetime and be devoid of any silly safe words!".
She broke off again for a moment with another evil laugh. "Each to his or her own as always. I also recall that I got a long, tedious lecture about security with more than one nasty and not very subliminal warning in it. Celine was at first glance a delightful, pretty, vivacious, impulsive girl but she was much more than that. She was very clever, very devious and quite ruthless. Quite without pity or sympathy when she needed to be, the ruthless business-woman with a heart of ice!"
"Were you frightened?"
She pursed her lips and frowned, considering my question before answering. "No, not frightened, I believe I fully understood what she was saying. I knew that she fronted a group of people, no doubt rich and highly influential powerful people, those who could probably have made the most ruthless gangster appear like a saint. I thought about everything I'd seen in Darla's house and the fact that I knew where it was located. They were obviously placing a high degree of trust in me and they also somehow knew that it was not a trust I would betray. How could I when every atom of my being now yearned to be a part of this bizarre but oh so exciting world that had suddenly opened up to me.
"Poor Malcolm," I said. "I suppose he ticked a box on Celine's little list?"
She flashed a wicked smile at me and matched it with an evil laugh. "Oh yes, poor Malcolm did indeed. I remember sitting mulling over that list with a second cup of coffee to hand and feeling somewhat despondent. Celine had dashed off promising to phone me once every two weeks to keep in touch, but I felt slightly flat after the highs of the previous day. I had no client that I was aware of that matched any of the detailed specifications.
True, there was one middle added male sub who might just about match the criteria demanded by a couple of elderly sisters Celine had told me about. He usually visited me once a month, but he was a minor figure in the entertainment business and had a certain notoriety and like all of that crowd a craving for publicity. Eagar as I was, I dismissed him as a possibility. Anyway, for all I knew he was just the type of loud uninhibited person who might well have told others of his little fetishes. Too much of a risk, I decided to suddenly find himself held in my soundproof basement cell awaiting Celine's arrangements for onward transport. Anyway, the two old dears wanted their new toy in absolutely pristine condition so where would the fun be for me in that?"
"The two old maids were into adult babies. I met them a couple of times and visited them once. I've met some evil people in my time, but that elderly pair were two of the worst! Anyway, apparently they were very fussy, didn't accept anything that was marked or damaged, but they loved adding to their perverted nursery anything that showed the slightest evidence of being a little submissive and having an interest in age regression. My client sometimes liked being dressed and punished as a young schoolboy so I suppose that counted as age regression. He would never know what a hideous fate I'd spared him from". She shuddered and repeated "Hideous".
I waited as she recovered herself from what was clearly an unpleasant memory. My curiosity was definitely aroused but looking at her, I decided it was a path I'd save for another day before venturing upon.
"Two days later the phone rang" she suddenly said. "A new client, we agreed the time, and I gave him my address, then as I placed the phone back on the receiver instead of the usual thinking about what to wear and what makeup to put on, another thought had hit me and stopped me dead."
"Meal ticket time?"
She nodded. "A young man, I'd kept him on the phone while I found his original letter and quickly scanned his details, I always did that with new prospective subs who plucked up enough courage to at least phone me. This one, young, foreign, newly arrived, alone, friendless, in transit, my god, I thought. Could it be, could I do it?"
"And you did?" I supplied.
She chuckled and glanced once more at the clock. "Next time. Tuesday next and then we will talk about, about what was your expression, my meal ticket? Yes, perhaps quite apt for that is what the young man was to become, my meal ticket, my passport, my trial by 'his' ordeal into a world of unimaginable lust, of pain and pleasure, of passion and perversity and also of riches that as of then I could never have imagined. I had twelve days till Celine was due to telephone and somewhere according to her little list there was a rich master eagerly awaiting delivery of a new playmate! Yes, next time.