Chapter 26

Several days had passed since Lydia and Ian Smythe had discovered, much to their mutual surprise, an interest in Female Domination/Male Submissiveness and Bondage. In the intervening time, acting on instructions from his wife, Ian had accepted and started a new job with his former colleague, Max. On the domestic front, he'd been forced to start to learn to cook and keep house while all the time being kept enclosed inside the chastity belt that Lydia had commissioned for him previously. Always a sexually hyper-active man, Ian was now close to bursting point, his Mistress having refused to allow him any 'releases'. Meanwhile, his wife had taken to relaxing even more than she did before their recent discovery was made for, with Ian now doing a large chunk of the housework, Lydia could slow down and pamper herself, surfing the web whenever she wished - something she had been doing with great gusto, storing up on the PC's hard drive many interesting photographs, articles and letters in order to better educate herself on the subject of how to humiliate and bind her worm... er, husband.

On this particular evening, Ian returned from work to discover a note placed in a prominent position on the hall table informing him that he was to disrobe where he was and to come up to the bedroom on his hands and knees - immediately. Sitting by the note was a photograph that had clearly been downloaded form the net showing a man laying on a bed, his arms bound lashed to his sides with leather belts while a woman squatted over his face. Smiling broadly, Ian rushed to obey, only pausing a short time later outside the bedroom door to wipe the grin off his face. Inside the room he found his wife preparing herself by applying the last touches of her make up. Once he got into the room he immediately saw that, laying on the bed, were several leather belts, all removed from his trousers. "Stand up straight, you slug! Arms by your sides!" snapped Lydia, reaching for the first belt, her thoughts fixed upon the pleasures that her husband's tongue would grant her once she had him where she wanted him...

Lydia grabbed at her breasts, squeezing them hard as she tried to maintain the latest in a series of wild orgasms that had ripped through her; below her, her husband's tongue lapped at the juices that were dripping down from her excited cunt, coating his face. But for now Lydia was feeling sated and so she wearily swung herself off him before clambering down from the bed. Sensually, she stretched her body, purring like a cat before drying her dripping pussy off with a tissue. "Mistress?" a pleading voice asked, breaking into her thoughts.

"Yes... ?" she replied wearily, knowing exactly what this was going to be about.

"Please... I need to... to cum, Mistress. I really do..."

"But I've told you about that before, slug. I'm not going to allow you any relief, isn't that clear? Which part don't you understand?"

"It's all very clear, Mistress... but... please, I'm begging. I can't stand this much longer! I'm going to burst!"

The idea of having Ian begging and grovelling before her for release made Lydia go all warm and mushy inside so she told him to try to convince her harder.

"Please... I beg you, Mistress! Your unworthy slave seeks some release... he seeks your gracious permission to cum..."

"Permission..." teased Lydia, drawing out the silence that followed her word, "denied!" she ended with a smile before turning and ramming a rubber ball into Ian's mouth. "I'm going out for dinner now and then on for a few drinks. When I get back, I may untie you or I may not. I may grant you permission to masturbate your pathetic little dick to orgasm... or I may not. As for your dinner, if I resolve to unbind you later before I fall asleep, there's some dog food in the refrigerator - it's so much cheaper than real meat and you were saying just the other day how we had to save money. Oh, and one last thing - do your best to make sure you don't wet the bed while I'm away. If you do, you'll regret it, I promise you..."

"Humph humm arghhh!"

"Well, I'd best get out of these clothes and into something more suitable, hadn't I? Couldn't be seen out in public dressed like this. Would you like to watch me change, slave?"

Ian nodded his head, his cock already pounding, painfully constrained inside its metal cage.

Toying with Ian as much as she could, Lydia slowly and seductively stripped down to her bare skin while all the time making sure that her husband could observe the entire procedure. As she watched him laying there almost motionless, she knew that it wouldn't be many more days before he couldn't help himself and he'd simply shoot his load into his belt... and then, she thought, and then I'll make the bastard suffer!

"Goodnight to you to, darling," Lydia finally called as she stepped out of the bedroom, as cool and calm as ever...

"I have to say that you're looking a little better each time I see you, Sammy," Miles Keating said to the latest full time recruit into his organisation as she stood before him in the dingy room that served as his office. "Which is a right turn-off for me, of course! But putting that aside, say 'How now brown cow' for me."

"What?" asked a confused young lady.

"Say 'How now brown cow'." Miles repeated patiently.

"How now brown cow," muttered a still perplexed Sammy.

"Oh, dear... not too good. Try to be a little more up market and say that one about rain and Spain."

Adopting a slightly more upmarket accent, Sammy, feeling a little like Audrey Hepburn, tried again. "The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain," she intoned with a plum in her mouth.

"Good. You'll do. You have a passport, I assume?"

"Of course. Why?"

"You're off to Munich to help a German mate of mine out. He makes movies and he needs a good looking woman with an upper class English accent. You fit the bill. He gets a cheap actress and I clear off a debt for a favour he once did me. Everyone's happy... and don't worry, he'll keep you supplied with dope - as long as you behave yourself."

"But I don' speak German!" protested Sammy.

"That hardly matters. The part calls for you only to say your lines in English and most of the crew are bi-lingual. You'll be fine. And moaning with pleasure or screaming in pain is the same in all languages..."

"Something tells me we're not talking about mainstream cinema here."

"Oh, you're so astute, Sammy!" Miles mocked. "Indeed not. As blue as you can legally get, that's how my pal makes 'em. I'm sure that the vice squad must have a stockpile of similar stuff."

"I'm sure they do..." murmured a crestfallen Sammy recalling certain late night parties with private showings she'd attended at the station in the past.

"By the way, Sammy - you might like to consider just what they call a lesbian with fat fingers..."