Chapter 10

Placing her hand over her exposed buttock where her skirt had been ripped by canine teeth, Elizabeth felt relieved that she'd been saved from the baying crowd by the fortuitous arrival of the policeman but this event did nothing to alleviate her embarrassment nor the pounding in her head.

"So," the young constable demanded, "what's going on here then?"

Before Elizabeth could even get her muddled mind to turn over, the black matron dived in and complained to the officer that the girl had been exposing herself to her two young sons. Then the other vocal woman jabbed the hapless Liz in the chest as she accused her of being a prostitute accompanied by much nodding and agreeing by the crowd.

"And what do you have to say for yourself?" the constable demanded of Liz.

"They're twisting what happened..." Elizabeth started before grinding to a halt as her much abused stomach began to rebel. "I think I'm going to be sick!" she finished lamely.

With a collective gasp of disgust, the crowd took a pace backwards and only just in time as Liz bent forward at the waist and vomited violently onto the grass. Uncaring with regard to what might be happening to her at this point in time - apart from her urgent need to throw up - Liz was unconcerned as her skirt rode up her backside, flashing all she had to the people standing behind. As she finally straightened up some moments later, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she felt the policeman take a firm grip of her shoulder. "Right then," he snarled, "I'm arresting you for Lewd Behaviour In Public. Please come with me..."

Acting instinctually, Elizabeth brushed the young officer's arm from her shoulder only to find him reacting at lightening speed and grabbing her wrist before twisting it painfully up her back. "Now, don't be a silly girl," he told her condescendingly. "Otherwise I'll be forced to add Resisting Arrest too."

Cursing herself and the situation that she now found herself in, Elizabeth forced herself to relax at which point both her arms were pinned behind her back and official police handcuffs locked into place. Led by the officer through the now jeering crowd, Liz bowed her head and tried to ignore both the intense humiliation brought on by her very public disgrace and the way her pussy had lit itself up before starting to produce oodles and oodles of lubricants...

In a small room above a squalid sex shop in South London, the figure of an overweight woman encased in tight leather rubbed her hands together aversively. "So, this is you son, is it, Master Paul? The fruit of your loins, as it were..."

"Indeed, Mistress Thorn, this is Andrew," the older of the two men in the room replied. "Andrew? Where are you manners?"

"Sorry, father," Andrew mumbled, his eyes fixed on the fourth person in the room, a stunningly beautiful and totally nude young blond girl who stood in the centre of the room, unsmiling and with downcast eyes. "Pleased to meet you, Madam Thorn," he eventually managed to splutter, his gaze still firmly fixed on the young girl.

"The pleasure is all mine, Master Andrew," the leather clad shop owner gushed. "Your father is one of my best customers and I hope you and I can look forward to a long business relationship together, Master Andrew." Following the young man's gaze, Mistress Thorn smiled knowingly. "Yes, she is pretty, isn't she?"

"Very," agreed Andrew, "and very undressed..."

Slapping his son on the shoulder, Master Paul grinned as he announced, "That's the best way for 'em to be, my boy! Go and have a closer look at her if you like. Mistress Thorn and I have a little business to discuss anyway..."

"Okay, father," young Andrew agreed as he moved towards the girl, only the second naked woman he'd ever seen in the flesh, the other being his fiancée, Elizabeth Hamilton-Jenkins.

"And she knows what to expect?" whispered the older man to his overweight female companion.

"Oh, yes, indeed. I didn't select a pain-slut since I knew that wasn't what you wanted. You do want a natural reaction, don't you?" As the man nodded his agreement, Thorn went on, "It does mean that you'll have to pay a little extra though..."

Snorting, the man continued, "Now why does that not surprise me, Thorn? Very well, here's your money - what we agreed and ten percent extra - I know the way you work by now and was prepared. But don't try to squeeze anymore out of me," he ended with the hint of a warning.

Rubbing her hands together greedily, Thorn agreed that she would not... and she wouldn't for she didn't want to upset this rich and powerful man who genuinely was a very good customer of hers buying both goods and services for himself and his friends... and, besides, the little foreign whore whom she'd hired wasn't getting half of what Thorn had charged Master Paul for the services she was expected to provide...

Watching the younger man approach, Sonia Rodenski smiled wanly at him wishing that she'd never agreed to this, wishing that she'd never left her native Russia to come to England where, she had been assured, the streets were paved with gold and rich men were just waiting to marry good looking younger women like herself. Of course the streets of London were not paved with gold nor did anyone want to marry her. As an illegal immigrant to this cold, wet place, she'd been used and abused earning money with (almost) honest work as a chambermaid in an hotel and not so honest money by allowing herself to have sex with strangers. And, every week, she'd sent as much as she could afford back to her mother and terminally ill father in the little village just outside Moscow along with a letter full of happy words and lies about how well she was doing working as a secretary for the boss of a large import/export business. Wondering exactly why she'd agreed to do this for Thorn, Sonia answered her own question - the money was good and she'd been assured that there'd be no sex, just a little discomfort. But, standing in the room, shivering and naked, she wasn't at all sure that she'd done the right thing...

Andrew reached the young woman and looked her up and down - she was a stunner, prettier than Elizabeth, all curves and long blond hair that just cried out to be stroked. And those eyes! Icy blue, just as he liked them, and a little cute upturned nose. "You're beautiful," he quietly breathed to her.

"Thank you," the girl replied in a strong accent that carried with it images of roaring log fires, vodka and sex on bearskin rugs. "I am called Sonia" she explained.

"Sonia..." the young man breathed slowly, exhaling over her name, tasting it upon his tongue. "A name as beautiful as yourself..." he muttered gallantly. Transferring his gaze down from her face, he took in her impressively large yet firm breasts, her tapered waist and flat stomach, her crotch that proudly displayed a small tuft of pubic hair that proved that she was a natural blond. "Turn around," he instructed her and, as she did so, he took in the perfect curves of her unmarked, smooth buttocks. Having always been a bit of a 'bum man', Andrew couldn't help himself and he slowly reached out a tentative hand to stroke that silky skin...

"Right, come on then!" broke in his father's voice, all business-like just before the moment of delicious contact. "Where's the implements?" the more mature Hawton-Kirby demanded of Thorn.

Pulling off a cover that had been carefully draped over a large table, the woman in leather displayed a fine selection of paddles, crops, canes and whips. Master Paul smiled at the sight before his eyes while his son and the girl just gasped for different reasons to each other.

"What is this, dad?" asked a perplexed Andrew. "I thought that you'd just rented her for me so that I could have a last little bit of you-know-what before I got married and settled down..."

"Nonsense, Andrew, my boy" his father boomed. "A little extra-marital sex - at least by the male half of a relationship - is expected, almost required within the circles we move. You'll have lots of mistresses over the course of your years of wedded bliss with Elizabeth, don't you worry. No, this is something else. From what I can gather from her father, your fiancée is a bit of a wild one and she needs training. Both I and her father are great believers in discipline, in keeping our women in line by the use of physical punishment..."

"But that's barbaric!" broke in the gentle, caring young man.

"There you go, Mistress Thorn! What did I tell you? Have your ever heard such rubbish in all your life?"

The older woman tutted and shook her head. "No, never. So, Master Andrew, you are here to learn how to discipline your wife and to select an implement that suits you. Feast your eyes on the selection I've laid out for you. Try them out - that's what the slut's here for..."