Chapter Five
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.
“Well?”
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!”
“Also, profitable?”
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!”
“Fame?”
“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?”
“Pristine?”
“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.