‘Over here, my love,’ says Mal, the words not menacing in themselves, but his tone pure evil.
O looks apprehensive, pouting at Mal as she crosses the floor. ‘You’re really going to make me ride it in front of Rosie?’
‘Have you ever used one of these, Rosie?’ Mal asks me, stroking the mountainous dildo.
‘No.’
‘Dimitri’s missing a trick. Hop on, then.’
The last words are addressed to O, who looks sulkily away from me as she places her feet delicately on the low rungs of the stool, steadying herself with palms flat on the seat. To mount it properly, she has to first kneel above the giant protuberance and lower herself, slowly and with much wincing, down on to it. I watch transfixed as her lips stretch and the latex is slowly swallowed up inside her.
Once it is almost subsumed, she adjusts her legs, painstakingly, standing back on the rungs. This forces her into a position where she has to bend forwards at the waist, hands clasped on the seat in front of her, bottom pushed out.
‘Doesn’t she look nice?’ purrs Mal.
She certainly looks obscene. Mal makes me examine her from every angle, so I see her strained face from the front, her penetrated profile, her wide open bum cheeks from the back.
‘Now, ride. Ride it well. I’m going to use the whip.’
She begins to move herself up and down on the dildo. It looks laborious, her calves shaking and thighs straining with each up-and-down motion.
‘Faster than that.’ Mal selects a wicked-looking flogger and starts lashing it against her bottom. The whoosh and splat are enormously satisfying. O grunts with effort, every facial muscle contracted.
But I don’t want to watch her face. I want to see her arse, jiggling up and down on the thick stalk, changing colour under the lash. I want to see what Dimitri might see.
I can’t deny that it looks incredibly sexy. O’s pert backside seems made for the whip and her slender body looks so fragile yet it must be so strong to keep up the frantic pace Mal seems to require. Her stamina impresses me as she races to the finish, but her criss-crossed rear impresses me even more. The redder and angrier it looks, the more I am turned on until I can hardly bear it, having to scrunch up my fists to keep my fingers away from my skirt hem.
Mal plies his flogger mercilessly, catching the tender spot at the top of O’s thighs until she screams. Oh dear, I think, now he’s gone too far and will have to stop, but then I realise that the scream is not inspired by pain, or only partially so.
O is coming, jolting back and forth, the scream breaking into a series of little whines while the whip falls again and again.
I don’t know whether to pity or envy her. On the whole, the balance tips towards envy. Can I get Dimitri to do this to me?
Dimitri.
Where is he?
I turn to Mal, who is unbelting and unbuckling his leather trousers, preparing to release his stiff cock.
‘Do you know where Dimitri is this morning?’ I ask him.
He puts the whip away and moves around to the front of O, waiting for her to take him in her mouth before answering.
‘No. Ah, that’s good, O, that’s very good.’
‘I’ll, um, be getting on then.’
‘Must you? Stay if you want.’
‘No, no, that’s fine. Goodbye.’
O is feasting on Mal’s cock, still connected to the dildo-stool, when I leave, not much the wiser.
On the one hand, I know that Dimitri hasn’t been mixing it up with O – she has a crush on him, but that’s all. But I know nothing about what he’s doing with Trixietots, or where they are.
Lunchtime is coming up when I stagger back on to street level, workers pouring out of their offices and heading for the pubs and sandwich bars of the district. Wherever Dimitri and Trixietots are, looking for them will be like finding ants in an anthill. Really, I should just go back to the office and try to call him again.
But I can’t. I just can’t.