Agony Aunt Read online

  Tom spent a good deal of time merely rubbing his hand over her legs, pausing when he reached the ropes to touch them and assure himself that she was securely tied. It was as if he couldn’t believe that she had allowed herself to be manoeuvred into this position. Harriet shivered as he fingered the ropes at her ankles and knees, reminding her that she was bound. He moved to her feet, stroking the hollows of her ankles, touching her ankle bones with a feather’s touch of fingers, then running his hands into the hollows behind her knees. Harriet sighed as he touched her in those places which so few men ever thought about. She was excited by the way he paid attention to her details, exploring all the places and smells of her body now that he had the opportunity. It was rare for a woman to be so cherished.

  Had she been free, she would have been obliged by the rules she had imposed to stop him. But now she was helpless to prevent him from doing whatever he wanted to her. They both knew he would have to pay for this later, but later was later, and Harriet surrendered herself to the pleasure of being handled. She felt the ropes tight around her hands and feet as she squirmed beneath his touch, revelling again in the freedom conferred by her captivity.

  Tom’s hands travelled up her legs once more, tracing the swell of calf and the fullness of thigh. He ran his fingers back and forth over the place where her stockings ended and bare flesh began. Like crossing a border into another place, she thought. She felt his fingers forcing their way between her thighs, and she tried to make room for his explorations. Tom touched her labia, even though it was a tight fit, finding the rope that ran between them and pushing against it where it passed over her clitoris. She was already sensitive there from the long contact between rope and flesh, and she jerked in pleasure when he touched her again. She let out a long ‘aaahhhhhh’ of satisfaction.

  Even with Harriet’s help and encouragement, there wasn’t enough room to explore that area very well, but that was one of the problems Tom would have to solve on his own – Harriet could only let him know when he was on the right track. He apparently came to the same conclusion, withdrawing after a few more strokes. Her hands were the next thing he touched. They were held palm to palm, pulled down against the mat of her pubic hair by the rope between her thighs. Tom caressed her fingers one by one, then clasped both her hands, tugging gently on them to make the rope move against her clitoris. This was even more exciting than his fingers had been, and she drew in a sharp breath at the touch. Tom took her wrists in both his hands, holding them together as if to show her that she was his prisoner. Hers were the hands that had wielded the whip over him whenever she thought fit.

  Still holding her by the wrists, Tom bent to kiss each of Harriet’s nipples, drawing a gasp from her as his lips brushed the sensitive flesh. She wanted him to keep on, to take them between his teeth, teasing them until she could stand no more. She knew that would make her come, and she twisted her shoulders and arched her back, trying to thrust her breasts closer to his mouth, but he was already gone. It came to her then that he was toying with her, bringing her to fever pitch and then leaving her hanging as she had done with him time and again. She was being repaid in her own coin, and she could see the rueful justice in that. She would have done the same thing had their roles been reversed.

  Abruptly Tom stood up and began to take his clothes off. When he got his trousers down Harriet could see that he was erect. She took that as a tribute to herself – both to her looks and to her helplessness. However, she still had no idea what he was going to do with the evidence of his arousal. Somehow he would have to part her legs and free her hands before he could get that inside her, and she wondered what it would feel like. It occurred to her that she was about to lose her virginity as far as Tom was concerned. This would be the first time he had penetrated her. She waited expectantly but Tom made no move to untie her.

  He returned to stand beside the bed, then bent down and picked her up, grunting with the effort as he lifted the weight of her compact, sturdy body. One arm supported her shoulders and the other held her under the knees.

  Ah, Harriet thought. Having made her his captive, the caveman was about to take his prize back to his lair. She smiled at the idea while enjoying the experience of being carried by him.

  But Tom only went as far as the armchair across the room before setting Harriet down on her feet and steadying her when she seemed about to fall. He turned her until the chair was behind her, then sat down in it and spread his legs. In the mirror Harriet could see his cock standing up in his lap. Then he grasped the rope tied around her waist and tugged sharply on it.

  Harriet lost her precarious balance and fell backward into the chair. She was taken by surprise and let out a dismayed grunt, thinking she was going to fall to the floor, but she landed between his knees and he pulled her tightly against him. She could feel his erect cock between them. It seemed to reach halfway up her back, and she experienced brief regret that she wasn’t able to take it inside her at the moment. It seemed too good to waste, but she had ‘wasted’ similar erections in the past when she was teasing him. Now she wondered why – with the reversal of their roles, Harriet had undergone a change of viewpoint. But the etiquette of the B&D game (not to mention her gag) prevented her from communicating this to Tom, and the stubborn part of her kept insisting that she would suffer a great loss of face if she admitted to him that she wanted to be had so thoroughly. Mistresses didn’t say that to their slaves, even when the slaves had them – temporarily, she told herself – in their power.

  Tom settled her comfortably in his lap and bent to kiss the nape of her neck. Harriet could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin and the touch of his lips felt fiery on her. She moaned softly. Tom had once told her that he liked this position best of all. Both his hands were free to touch and stroke and arouse the woman, and all her most sensitive areas lay open to him from behind. Of course Harriet had never allowed herself to be put into this position. But she had to admit that everything she owned was within his reach – or would have been if she hadn’t been tied. But Tom doubtless had something in mind, and she could do nothing except wait for him to begin what had to be his show.

  Still kissing her back, Tom reached around and took her full breasts in his hands. In the mirror Harriet watched as his fingers closed over her. The woman in the mirror flushed as he cupped her breasts, weighing them in his hands. The areolae were darkening and becoming larger, the tiny points that surrounded them becoming prominent. This always happened when she was aroused. She leant forward, pressing herself against the living bra that supported and stroked her. The woman in the mirror struggled to get free, to open her legs, to speak to the man whose hands sent shivers through her.

  She closed her eyes to concentrate on the sensations flooding through her. Her breasts felt heavy and hot, as if filled with molten lead, while her stiff nipples ached deliciously at the touch. Tom stroked them from base to tip, elongating and stretching them. Harriet felt herself grow warm between the legs, and knew she was becoming wet inside as she was fondled and kissed. She felt a small shudder at the base of her belly, a tingling in the insides of her thighs that preceded her orgasm. Her breath caught on a gasp and Harriet gathered herself for the climax.

  Tom guessed what was happening and abruptly stopped. It took Harriet a moment to realise what he was doing; then she twisted violently in his lap, trying to make him continue what he had started. She moaned in frustration. Damn you, she thought, recognising at the same time that this was exactly what she had done to him. She had required him to hold back for as long as possible – part of the training, she insisted. And she had often simply denied him the pleasure of orgasm by refusing to finish what she had started. But she had forgotten the efficacy of her own methods when she was on the receiving end. Mortified, Harriet resolved to be less obvious.

  She forced herself to relax and wait for the next move. Tom seemed in no hurry. He too sat relaxed, his hands merely cupping Harriet’s breasts as if weighing them. She glanced at herself in t
he mirror and was gratified to see he was admiring her. He had told her often enough that he found her attractive, but like most women, Harriet had difficulty in believing that she was the right size or shape, no matter how often others told her she was.

  She was glad she had allowed her brown hair to grow longer. The shoulder-length cut softened her face and made her look much more youthful. She tended to be thick in the waist and heavy of hip and thigh without being fat – not an easy feat for anyone. Her calves swelled nicely, and she had often been complimented on her legs. Indeed, Tom had seemed more than pleased to caress them whenever she had allowed him to do so. And the way he cupped and stroked her full breasts should have reassured even the most sceptical of women that he was taken with her. As she looked at herself, Harriet realised that Tom’s actions indicated an appreciation of her body. And the erection that still lay between them said the same thing. She lay back against it, wishing he would get on with things.

  Presently he did. His hands resumed stroking her breasts, pinching the nipples and stretching them until once more they were stiff and sensitive. Harriet sighed as she felt herself becoming warm all over again, especially between the legs. This time Tom varied his approach. When it became obvious from her accelerated breathing and involuntary squirmings that she was once more becoming excited, he used one hand to clasp her bound wrists, tugging them and causing the rope in her crotch to saw against her clitoris. Harriet hissed through her gag. She could feel herself gathering to a point somewhere beneath the mons veneris, a tingling and a warmth that she hoped would grow.

  It did. She felt a small shudder of pleasure as she came, but this first orgasm was a ladylike thing. She didn’t even moan, but she was glad none the less. This time Tom didn’t stop – apparently he had decided on a change of tactics. She was on the verge of another climax and was no longer worried about holding back for the sake of policy. This man knew her well, even though this was the first time she had ever been driven this far by him. He knew which buttons to push.

  There was no hiding the next orgasm. Harriet felt it building at the base of her spine, warm waves flooding through her belly and down her thighs. She tightened herself around the lovely sensation, and the sudden hunching of her body must have told Tom that she was going to come again. He didn’t stop, proving himself more merciful than she had been when their roles were reversed. Her breath caught on a gasp, and this time she couldn’t stifle the moan of pleasure as she was shaken by her climax. And, yes, here came another one hard on its heels. Harriet was on the verge of losing all control, and she was past caring as the waves of her orgasms lifted and dropped her, one after another. She writhed on Tom’s lap, feeling his erection against her back. The ropes were tight around her legs, holding them together around that grand eruption at the centre of things. Now she added her own tugs to the rope in her crotch while Tom still held her bound wrists and stroked her breasts in turn. She wanted to shout her pleasure out, but the gag limited her to a series of high-pitched moans.

  Tom, bless him, seemed intent on driving her wild, and she was content to be driven, if content wasn’t too mild a word to describe what she was feeling. A long ‘unnnhhhhhh’ signalled the next climax. Harriet bent herself at the waist and jerked her hips as it rippled through her body. She was in danger of slipping off on to the floor, but Tom paused long enough to steady her before resuming the cycle of arousal and climax. When he finally stopped, Harriet lay back against his chest and gasped for breath. She felt his arms around her waist, holding her steady as the earth gradually regained its equilibrium for her. It was nice being held like this.

  Tom let her rest while her breathing and pulse steadied and slowed. Then Harriet felt herself being lifted and turned so that she lay across his lap, her back supported by his left arm and her legs hanging over the opposite arm of the chair. He smiled crookedly at her and leant forward to kiss her earlobe before fumbling one-handedly at the ropes that bound her knees and ankles. When the ropes finally fell away, Harriet let her legs fall apart and flexed them. She was stiff after being tied for so long, and she was tired out after last night’s, and now this morning’s, frolics – but not too tired to watch carefully for Tom’s reaction as she moved her legs. She was glad to see his look of approval.

  ‘Bathroom,’ he told her. ‘I’ll be along in a minute to dry you off. Try not to make too big a mess.’ Once again he stroked her legs fondly through the sheer nylon of her stockings before he helped her to stand up.

  As Harriet left the room he was gathering up the pieces of rope and tidying the bed. He was still half-erect, and she imagined it wouldn’t take too much effort to bring him back to attention. In the bathroom she suddenly realised how badly she needed to use the toilet after being tied up for nearly ten hours. As luck would have it, the lid was closed, and with her hands bound tightly against her belly she couldn’t lift it. Being this near the goal made her afraid she would wet herself. She clamped down hard and at the same time tried to call for help. ‘Ummmmm!’ There was no response, and she felt herself leak a few drops. She tried once again, louder and longer: ‘Ummmmmmmnngg!’

  Tom came a few moments later. She nodded her head desperately at the closed toilet lid and jerked her hands to show him she couldn’t open it, nearly causing the floodgates to open as the rope sawed at her crotch. His smile infuriated her, and she grunted in annoyance once more. He seemed to be taking his time.

  ‘I should let you wet yourself,’ Tom told her. ‘You made me do that often enough. But I don’t feel up to changing you right now.’ He lifted the lid and stood aside.

  Harriet squatted hurriedly and relieved herself. It felt almost as good as a small orgasm. She suffered the indignity of being wiped dry in silence, remembering how she had put Tom through the same ritual. Having to be helped with one’s most intimate acts was a good way to learn humility and obedience, she had told him. And so it was. The rope between her legs was damp. Placed as it was, that had been unavoidable. He could have spared her that if he had loosened it.

  Nor did he loosen it now. He took her elbow and led her downstairs. ‘Breakfast time,’ he said tersely. He seated her on the couch and went through to the kitchen. Presently he came back with toast and coffee. ‘Boiled eggs in a minute or so,’ he said as he removed her gag.

  Harriet worked her tongue around to moisten the inside of her dry mouth. He held the coffee cup for her and she drank thirstily.

  ‘Another, please,’ she said when it was empty. There were many other things she wanted to say, but first things first. What she had to say to Tom would keep until they had eaten. Now that the sharp edge was off her sexual desire, Harriet was thinking it was more than time for her to reassert her authority. But she was at a double disadvantage – her hands were still tied and she was considering the possibility of further sexual gymnastics in the near future. Maybe she should wait until that was over before resuming control of the relationship. Though she couldn’t admit it to him, she was rather looking forward to finding out what sort of a lover he was. But it didn’t do to let the servants get above themselves, so she kept quiet.

  Harriet saw that the time was approaching 9.30 a.m., rather later than she normally had breakfast. That explained why she felt so hungry. As she waited for Tom to return she decided that she had to try to reassert control over the situation, even if that meant she would have to forego the anticipated pleasure of allowing him to go on. It was more important that she regained her authority as soon as possible. One had to make some sacrifices to be true to oneself, didn’t one?

  Tom returned with a tray, which he set down on the coffee table. Toast and boiled eggs, marmalade and coffee – it all looked tempting on an empty stomach. His cock looked tempting on an empty –

  She stifled the thought and summoned her most severe look. ‘Tom, this has gone on long enough. I insist that you untie me this minute and resume your duties. What you did this morning was a serious violation of our agreement and will be dealt with in due time.’ She fel
t slightly foolish as she remembered how much she had enjoyed his ‘serious violation of our agreement’, but she had to say the words. She knew she sounded pompous as well.

  Tom looked directly at her. He appeared to consider her words for a moment before he said no.

  Harriet was taken aback. She had expected him to obey the command and resume his role as her servant/slave. She tried again. ‘Tom, I warn you that your behaviour is making me very angry. You are only making things worse for yourself by continuing this disobedience.’

  ‘You didn’t look very angry in the bedroom a few minutes ago,’ he replied.

  Harriet felt herself flush as his remark hit home. He had unerringly put his finger on the weak spot in her argument. Nevertheless she persisted. ‘Don’t argue with me. You took advantage of me when I couldn’t resist. That’s done. Untie me now.’ She looked down at her bound wrists to emphasise her determination.

  Still he made no move to obey. By way of reply he buttered a slice of toast and spread marmalade on it before offering it to her. Harriet knew that to eat from his hand would be a further sign of submission. After all, she had taught him the same trick during his first week at her house. But he was turning her own training against her now. He had spirit, she had to admit. He continued to hold the slice of toast close to her mouth. Harriet could smell the butter and marmalade, and her stomach rumbled. She felt betrayed by her own body. Tom’s grin didn’t improve her temper.