Adventures of a London Call Boy (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-six

The first success came after a session with Raven. I was undoing some twine that was about to cut through the flesh on my wrists having just play-forced her to swallow me through a weird gag-like contraption. Where, I wondered, did she get these marvellous toys?

After she had unstrapped the device, and I had freed my hands, she mentioned the business cards.

‘I have a friend. I gave her a card. I think she might be interested.'

‘Great. What sort of stuff is she in to?'

‘Oh, she's much, much, weirder than me.'

‘Really?'

‘Much weirder.'

‘Yes?'

‘Oh yes. Occasionally,' she said, leaning towards me and running her hands up my thighs, ‘I even have very normal sex.'

To prove it, she held my cock while running a finger down to her clit. She kept her pussy trimmed short, but in a low wide triangle. She'd told me it was because men who didn't like pubic hair weren't really looking for women. I didn't disagree, but only out of politeness. The advantage, I've always thought, of a shaven pubis is simply ease of access, particularly for oral.

Soon we were in a sixty-nine position, her pussy stationed over my tongue, my cock deep into her mouth. She came once, almost biting my cock, before I slid out from under her, slipped on one of the studded condoms that she liked and entered her slowly on all fours. What she called ‘normal' sex was noisy and energetic, but for once there was no beating or binding. Simply, I fucked her steadily and hard, reaching around to massage her clit and with the other hand to tease and tweak her breasts. With her height, it was a good position; we fitted firmly together, and with her ankles over mine I could achieve deep penetration that satisfied us both. I carried on my thrusts until she reached another orgasm, and just to reassert normality, I came inside her, with no spectacular displays of mock humiliations.

‘So tell me about your friend. She sounds like a pervert,' I said, as we lay post-coitus.

‘We went to school together. She was a very naughty girl. Funnily enough, I had my first orgasm with her.'

‘Really? Sex or masturbation?'

‘Oh, sex, of course.'

‘That's good to know. You must like sharing things,' I said, hoping to make it clear that a threesome was definitely an option I would accept.

‘Yes. Anyway, she'll give you a call.'

True to her word, Raven's friend called.

‘Is that Cesc?' she asked.

‘Yes, it's me.'

‘Is there anything you won't do for money?'

‘Animals and children. And probably non-consenting third parties. But I wouldn't want to place too many limits, you know.'

‘Good. My friend tells me you're good.'

‘That's nice to hear. Customer feedback, and all that.'

There was a quiet, contained laugh.

‘I'd like to meet somewhere public. I know a bar.'

She gave me some details – I'd never heard of the place but it sounded expensive. I couldn't quite work out the reason for the public meeting, but it was on her time, so all the better.

Later, I noticed a pattern that emerged: the cards attracted women who were looking to try out a particular sexual fantasy. Or, occasionally, a series of them. But Raven's friend was the first, and, in many ways, the one who made the strongest impression.

I took a taxi down into town that evening and stepped out onto the steps of a private club off Charlotte Street. A statuesque Polish blonde who could have walked straight off a modelling shoot welcomed me, took my coat, and showed me through, sashaying deliciously in what was clearly an attempt to arouse customers into excessive purchases of ridiculously overpriced vodka and champagne. Inside, the joint was darkly lit and decked out mostly in red: velvet, leather booths and a long bar made almost entirely of mirrors.

Raven's friend was waiting for me in a corner booth, out of the way, but not hiding. She was Raven's age, obviously, with fine cheekbones and long bleached hair tied loosely back. She was dressed for the office, but with a suit whose cut suggested the work of a samurai, not a tailor. She was sexy, but also, very slightly frightening. I was looking forward to it.

‘Hi. I'm Cesc, pleased to meet you,' I said, extending a hand. She took it.

‘I'm Julia,' she said, and as she shook my hand I noticed the other one: it had a silver ring around her middle finger with a leather strap that stretched back to a wrist cuff.

‘I like your jewellery,' I said.

‘Thank you. Sit down.'

I sat.

She ordered a drink, vodka, straight up, and ordered me the same thing without asking.

‘Nice place you've got here,' I said, sipping the drink. The alcohol went straight up my nose, and for a second I worried that my head might catch fire.

‘It's a little club, really, a friend of mine runs it.'

I couldn't help but notice that to go with the Polish beauty on the door there was a stunning Japanese waitress in skin-tight silk, as well as a barman who'd clearly been dropped in from a Gucci ad. I started to guess the type of place it might be.

‘I have a room here. Would you like to see it?'

‘Very much so.'

We necked our drinks and I followed her into a small, silver elevator at the back of the bar. On the landing, two or three floors up, were striking prints in bold reds and neons of painted nudes, many in acrobatic poses or against scenes of natural beauty. I could feel an erection coming on already.

She opened the room with a large iron key. As she went in, I got a chance to admire her figure. Above her stilettos were perfectly turned ankles, and her skirt was dangerously short. She had clearly spent a long time looking after herself.

Inside, there was a large oval bed, a matching couch and a large baroque mirror, directly in front of the bed. The bed had an ornate wrought-iron frame; on closer inspection, it also had what looked like hooks. The only other ornamentation was a picture of a voluptuous model in a Westwood corset, adopting a particularly welcoming pose.

‘Have you heard of depravation?' she asked, turning to me.

‘Deprivation? Are you planning on locking me up?'

‘No, depravation, I said.'

‘Don't you mean depravity?'

‘Not quite. It's a term we use.'

She paused for a moment, licking at an imaginary spot of gloss on her lips.

‘My friend told me that you were good at following instructions, and that you were not put off by, let's say, certain more extreme forms of pleasure.'

‘That's true. But she's not that extreme.'

‘I need you to be.'

‘OK.'

‘I'm going to give you a series of instructions, and I want you to follow them. To the letter.'

‘OK. That's clear.'

‘They are written down, in that envelope. If you can do this correctly, you'll have a regular customer. I'll be in the other room.'

She went out through a door by the bed. I went over to the envelope that had been left on the bed and opened it. She was right. There was a series of instructions. And they were quite, well, extreme. For a second I thought about leaving, but decided that it would be cowardly. And, she was extremely sexy.

As the instructions pointed out, there was a drawer under the bed. I found the things that she mentioned she would need. I prepared them, as instructed. Then I checked my instructions again, trying to memorise the order. I could see what she meant by depravation. I looked at the last line again, not quite understanding its meaning:

‘Don't worry. You can't hurt me.'

And then I began.

The door to the other room gave way with a crash, and I found her hiding in a corner. I grabbed her arm and her hair and pulled her up. She screamed at me, and tried to resist. I blocked the slap she threw at me with an arm, and caught that hand as well. She was tall and had good reach, but I was much stronger than her. I dragged her into the bedroom, and as she tried to kick me, I dodged, tripped her and pushed her to the floor. Following the impact I was able to pin her down.

The first item was a pair of cuffs. I bound her hands together, and then found the long leather strap, and ran it under the strap of her ring. I stood up over her and ran the strap around one of the legs of the bed frame. It pulled on her finger and on her wrists, and I could see pain in her expression. I found a blindfold and tied it tightly over her eyes. She began to swear and insult me, and shook and resisted as I tore at her clothes. With her blouse open I ripped off her bra, and then harshly pulled down her skirt. Her thong was under her suspenders, and I snapped it off from between her legs with a firmness and speed that made her wince.

With her dishevelled and bound on the floor, I found the next items: ankle cuffs. They fitted neatly round the straps on her stilettos, and then I bundled her onto the bed and strapped them to the bottom of the frame. With her still shouting at me, I left her for a second.

‘You can't see me. You can't move. I can do anything to you,' I said, from across the room. And then from closer, ‘and I will.'

I took one of the vibrators that she'd left and turned it on. I ran it over her chest and her nipples, but just as she began to express pleasure instead of fury, I quickly moved it to her mouth and pushed it in, further in than could be comfortable. She half gagged and I removed it, now dripping saliva. I ran it down her body, over her clit, used it to separate her lips and briefly slid the head in. She moaned with pleasure, and I gave her more. Then I turned it off.

‘It sounds like you're enjoying that. I'll stop.'

I moved it away from her pussy, and then down. I pushed it between her buttocks. She made as if to resist, so I parted them with my fingers, and despite her efforts, slid the wet vibrator into her. She winced, and I pushed it further in, opening her up, despite her groans of discomfort. Then I stepped away from her. I could see that her nipples were hard.

‘You're obviously enjoying this too much,' I said, to a foul-mouthed response. I found what looked like a pair of hairgrips, tweaked her nipples out, and then attached them. I pressed them tight, and then flicked the tips hard.

‘Is it painful?' I said. ‘Because I'm worried you're enjoying this.' While flicking her nipples, I reached down and began to stroke her clitoris. Her pussy was wet and clearly ready for me. But instructions are instructions.

After a few more minutes she was whimpering with alternate pleasure and pain, between each flick and each stroke, and I moved away and pushed the dildo further into her. I found another vibrator, with a clitoral stimulator on the top, set it on a slow setting and slid it into her. She gasped, but meanwhile I was preparing the next step.

I found what I was looking for: it was something like a face mask, but it had two plugs for the nostrils and a sort of removable mouthpiece or tube. Once in place, it seemed to enable you to control whether the wearer could breathe or not. As the twin vibrators did their jobs bringing her to greater and greater arousal, I attached the mask, placing it between her teeth and covering her nose.

As her breathing quickened, I covered the hole. She quivered and shook, with pleasure and perhaps discomfort, as the air supply was cut off and her approaching orgasm demanded heart-pumping effort. After a few seconds, I let her breathe again; she gasped, almost sobbing.

As her pleasure increased, I covered the air hole again, this time for slightly longer: her face began to take a ruby tone, and I could see her start to panic, her head turning from side to side, unable to free the air hole from my cover. I let her breathe again, and then turned off the vibrator. She tried to shout something at me, but could not because of the gag.

I stepped away and tightened the straps so that she was spread-eagled, vibrators still in place and nipples still squeezed tight. I took my time undressing and then ran my hard dick down her body and along her thighs, before slipping on one of Raven's condoms.

‘I'm going to enjoy this,' I said. I removed the top vibrator and entered her, turning it back on and applying it to her clit. Her reaction was immediate: she curved her back and pulled against her bonds. But as her pleasure increased, I held my hand to her mouthpiece. Instead of arching with pleasure, she began to squirm underneath me. But tied up as she was, there was no way out. I continued to fuck her, with the vibrator buzzing against her clit, while she struggled for air. When I allowed her to breathe, she gasped for a noisy breath, and with it, broke into a rocking, pulsating orgasm.

Once she'd finished, I pulled out, replacing my penis with the vibrator. She began to come again, immediately, while I removed the mouthpiece from her gag. I pulled her head forward by the hair and found that my cock was almost a perfect fit for the hole as I slipped it in. I rocked back and forth, squatting over her, forcing my penis in and out. I savoured the orgasm, possibly for slightly too long, as when I pulled out, she spluttered desperately and choked down gasping gulps of air. I removed the vibrators and collapsed back on the bed.

‘Because you've been good,' I said. ‘I'm not going to punish you. But you should know, I could find you any time. And I won't always be as nice.'

I looked at her. She was breathing heavily, her body wet with sweat, her legs spread in front of me. I felt like another screw, but a script's a script.

I undid the clamps on her nipples, removed the gag and pulled up her blindfold. Her eyes were wet with tears and she coughed and hiccoughed, trying to get her breath back. I unbound her hands and then her feet, and she sat up in bed, casting off her ruined blouse to reveal breasts that were still pert, her nipples still pointy from their punishment.

‘Is that depravation?' I asked.

Despite her messy state, she maintained a chilly composure.

‘Something like it. I'm impressed at your ability to follow instructions. Have you ever acted?'