Meeting Her Match - Page 27

I invented a hair appointment and promised to meet her for brunch the next day, then sat down at the computer and waited with bated breath.

I was wearing my favourite underwear set, for some reason, with my Chinese silk wrap over the top, barefoot and perfumed. It felt like an Occasion, so I’d even put on a necklace and some lipstick. I wanted SecretSadist to see me. I wanted him to watch this. I decided to ask about Skyping with webcams as a next step.

When he started things off with ‘Good afternoon, AtYourService,’ I replied quickly and eagerly, tapping with manicured nails.

‘Good afternoon, sir, I wish you could see me now.’

‘Why?’

‘I’ve dressed for the occasion.’

‘Oh good – what are you wearing?’

‘Very little. I have my silk wrap on – it’s red with a pattern of blue butterflies and pink and green flowers, and some black and gold around the hems. It’s very delicate and very thin. I can hardly feel I’m wearing it.’

‘And is it all you’re wearing?’

‘No. Underneath I have my new red and black bra and knickers. They’re mesh fabric – like fishnet – with tiny red bows at the front and red ribbon ties at the side of the knickers.’

‘Easy to undo, then.’

‘Very easy.’

‘Stockings?’

‘Sorry, no stockings. Didn’t have a matching suspender belt. I can put on some hold-ups if you like.’

‘No, don’t worry. I’m picturing you. Take off the wrap.’

‘Yes, sir. I’m wearing dark red lipstick too, and a thin silver chain around my neck and wrist. I wish you could see me.’

‘So do I. But for now, I want you to spread your legs wide so they dangle off the corners of your chair.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I’m going to tell you a story. And you aren’t to come until the very end of the story. But, while I’m telling it, I want one of your hands inside your bra, playing with your nipples, and the other down the front of your knickers, pressed up close to your clit. Can you do that for me, AtYourService?’

‘Yes, sir.’ But could I? Could I wait until the end, in that position?

I found one of my warm, hardening buds inside the bra cup and fiddled with it while my other fingers slipped down, every knuckle visible through the mesh, burrowing into the humid wetness between my pussy lips.

‘Are you ready? Then I’ll begin.

‘You have been sent to my house tonight, knowing nothing about who I am, with an envelope to give me. When you left the bureau after your case conference, the taxi was called for you and all you had to do was get inside and be driven to the destination predetermined by the court. Sitting in the back of the taxi, you are nervous, butterflies in the stomach, hands folded neatly in your lap, neck twisted to your right so you can look out of the window without having to face or converse with the cab driver. You were in an isolation booth while the caseworkers met to discuss your fate, so you have no idea of the sentence they have handed down. It could be a compulsory work order. It could be period of detention. It could be – something else.’

I bet it’s something else.

My clit swelled, pushing into my fingertips. I didn’t dare move.

‘You are wearing a simple prison-issue smock dress, short and white, just about covering your bottom and skimming your thighs, with flat white tennis shoes and bare legs. You keep your knees tightly together in case the cabbie is perving on you. If you parted them, he might see the plain white cotton briefs that are the only things standing between your cunt and the curious eyes of the world.

‘After a ten minute drive, the cab pulls into a wide gravel drive behind a high brick wall. You crane your neck, spying a house at the end. The house is large, but it doesn’t look institutional. It looks like someone’s home, with welcoming lights in the windows and hanging baskets by the door. Could this be where you will pass your sentence? It seems so … nice.

‘The driver opens the door for you, and you step out on to the gravel, preparing to climb the steps. But before you can make a move, he holds out a hand. “You’ll need to give me your knickers,” he says.

‘“Excuse me?” You sound indignant and ready to argue, but he simply crooks his fingers, cold and implacable.

‘He’ll be watching, and if you disobey, he’ll be harder on you.’

Tags: Justine Elyot Erotic
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