Is love a sickness or a cure.
The blue bound collection of short stories sitting on the homemade pine bookshelf caught his eye in the moonlit room. A present from his grandfather on his tenth birthday they were one of his most treasured possessions, but they’d been read so often the edges were badly frayed and the pages had started to fall out. Written in the 1930’s they had ‘The New York Public Library’ stamp on the inside cover of each book, and also the name Ira Glass in faded red ink. For no particular reason he’d often lie awake and think about who Ira Glass was and where he came from, which would always lead to the memories of that birthday, the last he was to spend with his Grandfather. He would miss the comfort of those books.
Frederick Hermann Ulrich Schnaufer hated what his life had become. He looked from the books to the vein of cracked plaster on the ceiling as the full moon amplified his insomnia. He squinted and traced the dancing shadows from the twisted branches of the old gum tree, he looked out the window - past the darkness to gaze at the stars beyond - but there was nothing there. Sighing at the frustration he felt about his situation he again looked back at the ceiling. The same shapes appeared, just as they always did on nights like this. He could see the images of his childhood all over again, the pattens his mind mingled together; a horse pulling a cart down a rutted road; a long nosed witch stirring a scolding pot; a naked woman with her arms open. He rolled over and closed his eyes tightly. Nothing changed day after day for the last few months and he knew now it never would. He could see his entire life laid out before him and unless he made the change himself, he was doomed to repeat the pattern set by his heritage.
Soon to be seventeen Frederick refused to answer to that name anymore, he would only respond to Rick. This made his father grunt and his mother sigh. He knew his demand would eventually lead to an ugly confrontation. Everything was totally predictable now, even the building feud with his parents. School had finished and he didn’t have to worry about it anymore, he didn’t have to worry about anything, just do as he was told and tend to the farm .. which was a routine he’d known since he could think ..and keep his mouth shut… life would be sorted for him. But he wasn’t going to let that happen. And after the incident with Bridgette Mussenburger a year ago - he knew he was being manoeuvred into an arranged marriage with her. Everyone knew they’d been young lovers; the whole town was shocked as they whispered the secret.
His stomach churned in knots at the thought of the looming fiasco. Both sets of parents had already started the crazy rituals and it was no different than the shuffling and nonsense that surrounded Bridgette’s older brother Erich when he was married off to Elyse the butcher’s daughter.
Rick thought about his friendship with Bridgette and couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know her. They were instant friends from the moment they met, even though they were too young at the time to remember the day. They also shared the same birthday which made them even closer; although there was never much of a fanfare about birthdays in Rick’s house. Bridgette’s family lived across the road and they farmed the same produce, and when time came to go to school, well it was a small town and they sat together in class. Both got teased about their funny German names and not being able to speak English, which only made them somewhat of a closed couple. So they spoke to each other in German at school solely to annoy the other children - it was their only way of coping.
So with all that had happened and all that was on the table, including the value of combining the two farms, everyone could see the sense of such a marriage. The trouble was Rick didn’t want it, he didn’t want the farm, and he didn’t want to stay in that town, and he didn’t want to marry Bridgette and live together in his bedroom with his parents in the bedroom next to him.
He liked Bridgette, she was his best friend and he probably even loved her, and if they could have taken off together it might have been different, but he knew she wouldn’t. She was too scared of her overbearing father and Rick knew if they did run, old Gerhard would never give up looking for them. He’d have one hand holding a shot gun and the other a marriage licence.
Rick closed his eyes and pictured Bridgette’s face. He thought about the times they played by the creek when they were younger. He remembered the papier-mâché face mask she made and had painted in pastel colours so she’d look a little more like their dominant school teacher Miss Beamish. Then alone by the creek they would act out scenes and pretend to be adults. Bridgette would make up difficult tasks for Rick and he’d not complete them, all on the pretext of being spanked, over her knee, just like in one of the books he had where the School Mistress spanked her naughty pupils; it fascinated him and he’d read it to Bridgette and she’d ask him to read it again. But it was just a game to them, they were only ten - and he was happy to play the game and Bridgette was happy to give.
As they matured curiosity got the better of them and they shared kisses and gropes and the investigation of each others bodies. Then it built to the point of being naked and masturbating each other, of course the next step was obvious.
Bridgette’s brother and his new wife had the bedroom next to hers and she snuck in and stole a condom from the bedside draw. Her and Rick had it planned for their sixteenth birthday, after all, they might as well go all the way.
It only happened the once. Erich realized a condom was missing and it could only have been Bridgette. He wasn’t worried about it. As a matter of fact he was pleased that Bridgette had the good sense to think of using one. But Erich made the mistake of telling his wife ..who was the worst gossip in town .. and before the week was up her parents had heard and Bridgette was shamed into confession.
The poor girl was immediately taken from school and sent to work in the Butcher shop that belonged to her sister in-laws parents. Since then, she and Rick were not allowed to go off on their own, someone always had to be in visual range of any meetings. It was obvious to the whole town that come their eighteenth birthday, they’d be lined up for marriage.
A quickening pulse caused the nerves in his toes to tingle, but it was now or never. He sat his cloths and belongings on the bed then looked out the window to check for a clean getaway, just in time to see the rooster snuffling in the long grass and making its way towards the tallest post in its run. He packed an old army knapsack with cloths, his birth certificate, a few bits and pieces of personal sentiment and all the money he had. He’d done this in his head a hundred times, mental dress rehearsals for the big breakout. He put a note on his bed.
“I want my own life and I can’t as long as I live here. Don’t bother looking for me. I will contact you when I’m ready.”
He ran his hand over the set of blue bound books one last time and climbed out the window. He’d had it all planned. Every afternoon for the last month he’d check on the stash in the corner of the old milking shed and it was all there for him. He stuffed the apples and water bottle into the knapsack and knowing he’d never see the place again he took one last look around, tucked the old thin canvas camping swag under his arm and jogged up the road - just as the annoying bird strained a loud crow.
Rick stuck his thumb out as the early morning summer sun bit at his forearms – he’d been checking the identity of every approaching vehicle in case his farther or Erich had been sent to find him, but the safe vision of an old rusty VW Kombi with Queensland plates pulling over eased his tension.
He leaned across and shook the outstretched hand as he settled in the seat, quickly gave his name as Rick and they exchanged small talk about the hot weather. Jack introduced himself and questioned the young mans ultimate direction and was pleased that Rick said he was headed north and looking for work. Jack realized he now had a travelling companion for the whole journey, although he was a little disappointed when Rick told him he had no licence and would not be able to share the driving.
The old man never questioned Rick’s age; he had a solid build from years of hard farm work along with the hereditary square jaw, blond hair and blue eyes of his ancestors and it gave him a look older than he was. Rick sat back and got excited as he knew he was now on the way to a new life.
The mature driver was an interesting fellow, probably in his early sixties Rick thought, although he looked like he was trying to keep-up a long dead fashion with his dyed black hair in the old ducktail style. An unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt flogged against his well tanned and weathered skin as the hot wind seemed to come from every direction and swirl about the cabin. The occasional roadside smell of death along with the fumes from the old car made it difficult for Rick to concentrate on Jacks constant words and thick cockney accent, and he found his thoughts wondering about his own immediate future.
Jack was a semi retired small time music promoter and heading back to his home in North Queensland after burying his sister in Melbourne. He announced early on in the new acquaintance that he never cared for his dominating sister’s personality, but he showed her respect by fronting at her funeral, then quickly changing the subject he spent the next six hours bombarding Rick with stories of famous singers and bands he’d rubbed shoulders with, yarns about adventures on the road. It seemed like every town they passed through inspired a new tale about some crazy rock and roll experience, many hard to believe. But he seemed harmless, and Rick was happy to tag along as Jack told him he’d get him work when they got up north.
“I still got contacts y’know, many contacts me lad. I know people in almost every town from here t’ Cairns. Me mates got a bit of a carnival setup, one of them sideshow affairs with rides and laughing clowns and all. Even got one of them big fuckin Ferris wheel deals. I’ll getcha a job if you want, no bullshit son, he’s a dead straight’n is our Tom, always looking for hard workers, you do him right, and he’ll do you right”
Rick looked at the pink piping around the white collar of the women’s uniform and it reminded him of the wedding cake on display in the bakery window the day before Erich and Elyse got married; their cake, it looked like cardboard. He blinked his eyes to refocus on his surroundings; there were three booths, two tables and four stools at the Starlight Road House. The old place was the last of a dying breed of old style fuel stops stuck in the middle of nowhere. The 1980’s hadn’t hit the small town yet. Modern truck stops with the obligatory inbuilt McDonalds or KFC had not yet reached central New South Wales but Rick didn’t even know where he was, and he didn’t care to know either, just as long as he was moving further away from the life of Frederick Schnaufer.
A queasy feeling washed over him from the heat and petrol fumes from the last six hours drive so he offered resistance to the burger on the table, he pushed it away a few inches and sipped on a cold coke and tried to avoid watching his new travelling companion eat.
Jack spoke fast, frequently changing the subjects in mid sentence and bits of food splattered the plate, it didn’t worry him, he picked up the stray pieces and fingered them into his mouth without missing a word, rambling on about the decline of the music world after TV started showing song clips.
“Make the most of your opportunities when they fall at your feet young Rick”. Jack tapped his finger on the tabletop and looked at the young man. “Back in my day-” Jack started the same story that he told anyone that would listen and he continued to impart his wisdom on how to fix the entertainment business.
Rick pushed the plate with the untouched burger further away. Looking out the window at the water logged clouds he thought about his grandfather; it was the same angry look the sky had the day of the funeral and Rick missed him. His grandfather was the only one in the family that tried to be an Australian, tried to blend in, but sadly he died before Rick could get to know him properly; he wished he was sitting at the table with him right now.
The last of the Schnaufer clan immigrated to Australia in the mid 1950’s. In an effort to give his son Luther a better life Frederick’s grandfather made contact with a Lutheran Pastor in Australia. The Church sponsored the family, as it had done with many other immigrants after World War Two and they arrived in a small town along the banks of the Murray River in Victoria. A thriving vegetable and dairy farming paradise in the 1950’s it seemed that about half the town were immigrants that had escaped from the new Europe to seek a better life. And there were plenty of Germans.
Except for his grandfather’s inquisitiveness about his new adopted country the rest of the Germans in that small community lived the German way of life, just like the Australians, the Greeks and Italians, they only mingled and married with their own kind. It wasn’t until Rick was sent to school at the age of six that he started to learn English, but it was the same for his friend Bridgette from across the road. And both of them struggled to learn a new language and fit in.
Rick once thought that he and Bridgette might have had some sort of reasonably life together, but neither of them wanted to be there. They often spoke to each other about the dreams they had. Bridgette wanted to be a dancer and travel the world, find her soul mate and have lots of children. Rick was the opposite, he didn’t want to get married, he didn’t wanted to have children, he wanted to live on the coast by the sea, fish and swim and maybe even be a professional fisherman, but he’d settle for anything other than farming.
Rick looked at the cold hamburger as the waitress came to clean up the plates.
“What’s the matter love, bit crook are you?”
She smiled. A genuine caring smile and Rick felt at ease with her. The 40 something woman was Miss Orange of the West when she was twenty, a real beauty in her day. She married the handsome son of the local wealthy publican, but unfortunately her handsome husband turned strange and spent his pastime drowning in alcohol and abusing her. She immersed herself in running the Pub while he stayed drunk. She also learnt to smile at the world through the pain and long hours and she wasn’t sad when her drunk husband staggered into the path of a truck late one night. She sold the pub and bought the Starlight Road House and cafe and although it never made any real money, she owed it totally and didn’t care one bit.
Shirley was a good woman with a big heart and wicked sense of humour, she had fingers full of shiny sapphire rings and her large bosom showed signs of a tan line and sex appeal still for the taking - but a twice broken nose and deep worry lines around her eyes equalled it out. She placed her hand on Rick’s forehead and sighed.
“You poor thing, I’ll put it in a bag, Jack can heat the meat on the stove in the Kombi for your dinner, here Jack, your cheese sandwiches to toast tonight, and don’t drive too late, you pull up before it gets dark and let the boy have a good sleep, and Jack, don’t you go drinking any rum, you got that”
“Eh! He ain’t no boy love”. Jack looked at Rick and sipped his cup of tea and raised his voice a little. “Are ya lad, you’re not a wee one, you’re not a run away are you?”
“No” Rick shook his head and watched Shirley picked up the burger and plates and reiterated to jack about the afternoons drive. Jack smacked her bottom as she walked away and she giggled like a school girl.
“Cheers Shirl, you’re a great bird”
She wiped the counter top and looked back at Jack and gave him a wink as she grinned.
“And Jack, you ring me when you get home, I won’t go to the gem fields with you this year if you don’t keep in touch with me, and I’m not just here for you to jump on like an old bike whenever you drive through”
She smiled at him from the counter and Jack turned and winked at Rick.
“Err! Son, go wait in the car for a few minutes, there’s a good lad. I’ll be out in a bit”
Rick looked over his shoulder as he walked to the car, seeing the Back in 10min sign being flipped on the glass door as Jack locked it and disappear. He was fascinated at this turn in life, these people we so alive. His parents would never behave in such a way nor anyone he saw in that small town. He wanted more, he wanted to really feel life and see what others got up to. He had no regrets about leaving home.
Four days later and true to his word Jack organized a job for Rick with his mate’s carnival show which was about to start its Christmas run. Setting it up with just one phone call Rick was impressed, especially when Jack introduced him to a beautiful dark hair woman called Dallas.
“She works in the show on the laughing clowns” Jack told him, and she was also the girlfriend of the shows Forman.
“You get on her right side young Rick, she’ll look after you all right, don’t worry about her rough nature, she’s a good young bird”
Dallas had driven the two hours to pick Rick up and do some business in town and with only a few words of thanks to Jack, Rick was off on his new life faster than he had time to think about it.
He was nervous. Dallas was sexy and talkative and he tried hard not to continually stare. Tight jeans, a black t-shirt and cowboy hat went well with an Australian accent different to anything he’d ever heard before. The whole country theme ran through her personality and she was loud and brash. An old Johnny Cash tape blared out to compete against the sound of the V8 engine as the dusty ute roared along the highway at a ridiculous speed. Dallas yelled over the noise and swore more than he thought possible, telling him about the show circuit and the life he was in for. She looked at Rick and realized the young man was anxious; she giggled and grabbed his leg.
“How old are you?” She raised her eyebrow and squeezed his leg when he hesitated to answer.
“I’m seventeen, nearly, soon”
“No-way. Bullshit! Really? You look way older than that eh! So you’re still sixteen. You’re just a baby chicken aren’t-cha. What’d ya run away, bashed by your old man or somethin’? Fuck! I hate oldies that do that shit to their kids”
“No, he never hit me, but I don’t want to go home. That home is dead to me”
Rick stared out the window – but didn’t really see anything, the thoughts he had of his parents and the farm, Bridgette and school, all bled slowly from the corners of his brain like a bad dream. He refocused his attention to Dallas, turning his head to her and looking at her profile as she mouthed the words to the song blaring out.
“No worries Rick, stick with me, you’ll be okay. Fuck it! You know what, I’m gonna call you Chicken Nuts, reckon that suits ya, you got a big strapping mans body and little baby chicken balls, and you gotta have a nick name in this game, everyone does. But don’t worry, you’ll be right once we get there, they’re all good people, plenty to do and see, you’ll never get bored.”
She smiled and pushed her foot to the floor, the V8 roared as it pulled out to pass a 3 trailer road train, all the while Dallas sang loudly and out of tune to Folsom Prison Blues. He held the grab handle tight as he looked at the spinning wheels of the massive truck and gave a silent prayer. The ute pulled in front as Dallas gave a loud yahoo.
“I fuckin’ love passin’ them huge pricks, that’s such a fuckin buzz”
He looked over to see the needle on the speedo dance around the 170 kilometre per hour mark and the white lines on the grey road seemed to be just a blur.
Tom and Jean Shrimpton owned the small working carnival. It was independent of the larger city companies and made a good living sticking to the country towns, and mostly they worked in conjunction with the rodeo circuit providing the food and rides as a side show to the travelling cow punchers. The crews were easy to get along with and Rick got his first real taste of acceptance. Most called him Ricky and some _like Dallas_ called him by his nick name and he felt like he belonged there from the very first day.
He was not going to start out his new life with any lies so he told Tom and Jean he’d taken off and not told his parents where he was and in fact it was his seventeenth birthday two days after he arrived. They had no problems with the situation as long as he wrote to his parents and told them what he was doing.
After the show closed for the night they had a birthday party for his seventeenth; they weren’t working the next day so most of the crew cut loose. There was plenty of drinking, a few guitars appeared and old Credence and Beatles songs were sung loudly as laughter and jokes rang into the night. He was a little uncomfortable; he’d never had a real birthday party before but he didn’t tell anyone that, he just sat quietly watching the others.
The red haired woman sitting next to Dallas kept looking at him, he had been introduced to her but he felt a little uneasy. It was difficult for him not to constantly turn his gaze to her to see if she was looking back. And the more the drinking went further into the early hours the more she looked at him and would not look away. After an hour of eye contact between them the redhead got up and walked over, grabbed his shoulders and announced in a loud teasing voice.
“Sweet seventeen and never been kissed, we can’t have that”.
She plonked her self in his lap and quickly planted a kiss on his lips, her tongue pushed into his mouth. The smell of tobacco was all over her and he tasted the bite of bourbon on his tongue - realizing she was more than a little drunk - but he kissed her back as the crew cheered and whistled. She pulled back and smiled.
“Wow, so you have been kissed before”
Ricks eyes glazed over; she had a wonderful glow about her face he could not describe, her eyes sparkled and her smile was curled at the corners of her mouth, like it was permanent. She stayed on his lap for a good twenty minutes, grinding herself against his cock, she knew full well that he was hard, but kept up the tease. She sang songs and kissed him a few more times, pulled at his shirt and body, trying to get him involved in the singing. It was almost dawn and the crew thinned, she dragged him to her caravan and he kissed her before she got the door closed, his hand went to the crotch of her jeans and she pulled back.
“Rick, now look, I’ll be straight with you, I’m not gonna fuck you okay, I’m sorry about the cock tease, I do that when I’m pissed, sorry. Besides, I’m way too old for you. I didn’t bring you in here for sex, you can sleep in the spare bed up the end, you’ll fry in your little tent when the sun comes up” She turned the air-conditioning on full and shut the door and blinds as Rick stood waiting for instructions.
“There” she pointed to the single bunk at the far end of the van.
“Get some sleep, I’m gonna crash, I’m totally buggered. And don’t try and fuck me when I’m asleep or I’ll cut your balls off and I mean it. Wake me at ten”. She pushed him towards the single bed before shuffling to the other end of the van. He watched her as she pulled off her jeans and t-shirt and fell face first on to her bed.
“Oh, my bed, I love you” she moaned and cuddled into a pillow.
Rick lay awake listening to the aircon unit humming and clicking as it tried to keep the outside heat at bay. The little sleep he managed to get was tortured with crazy dreams.
Carol Williams or Madam Shishika as she was known to the punters - was the reader of tarot cards and foretold futures through an $82 crystal ball. She was twenty four when he first met her; long thick wavy hair the colour of the flame from a lit match, bright green eyes, a sexy cheeky smile and a face full of tiny freckles. She stood out from the ordinary, especially as she was only five foot two and had extra large breasts. But it was not so much her physical appearance that held Ricks attention, it was her bright and talkative manner, an edge to her personality. A little bit of dominance showed in her and he lapped it up.
The young roustabout didn’t have too much to do when the punters showed up, he’d restock the drink fridges and fetch and carry. He had his 2-way with him and he’d be on call for any running duties needed but mostly he roamed, picked up rubbish and watched the humans. He enjoyed his people watching; watching the women and girls, the physical intrigued him, but not necessarily the classic so-called beauty. But it was Carol that really held his attention; he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He started bringing her a drink halfway through the night and watched and memorized her habits, the way she spoke and moved, the way her bangles clanked as she sipped, he was fascinated with her. She’d always talk with enthusiasm about some of the faces that had come through and the way she could read them so easily, she put her hand on his arm as they sat close and his skin tingled, her smile was infectious and she was playful and fun to be around.
It didn’t take long; a week after she first kissed him they were firm friends. She agreed to give him the bed in the caravan full time.
“Listen to me Rick. You know the meaning of the word friend, that’s you and me. I’m sorry for cock teasing you on your birthday, I’ve told you that, just promise me you’ll not dribble after me for sex all day long”
“No, its okay Carol, I promise”
“Good, it’s just like we discussed, $10 a week and this is your end, next to the fridge, don’t come into my room, do as I tell you and it will all be hunky dory. Understand?
Rick agreed, as long as he was close to her it didn’t worry him.
Carol’s prized possession was her home on wheels, along with the Toyota Landcruiser that hauled it. She loved that truck, a brutish pickup truck with huge wheels, thick steel wrap around bulbar and high mounted spot lights; the entire outfit was the colour of faded lemons and you’d never see such a stranger site than a small pretty young woman with wild red hair driving this huge rig. But Rick saw something just right in the relationship with her and her surroundings. So when he moved his bag of cloths in – it felt to him like the first home he’d ever had that actually had an atmosphere of love and friendliness.
Things hummed along for a month or so without any problems. The outfit would usually hit a town for about five days and would spend the next two pulling it down, getting to the next town and setting up again. Carol had done her best not to encourage Rick with anything more than friendship. She really did like him. He was clever and always willing to listen to her; they actually had wonderful conversations. Rick was extremely well read for someone his age and he was funny, he’d make her laugh with his silly accents and his impersonations of the characters from Hogan’s Heroes. She found him such a pleasant change from the men that grunted and had little opinion on anything other than the job or their cars and dogs … Carol never understood why cowboys were obsessed with talking about their dogs. And as there was not much time for them to do anything but routine - she really looked forward to the late night chats with Rick over a few bourbon and cokes. Then a few days of rain hit and they were stranded as the roads flooded around the small town. They played cards and drank beer and spoke softly about life. He told her about Bridgette, he’d never told anyone about her. He almost got to the point of telling her about their spanking games at the creek. He wanted to, he was sure she would understand. But he lost his nerve.
She was hunting, tracking a man in a grey suit through the dark alleys of a city she could never recognize. The blade of the knife in her hand shone in the haze of the street light as she saw him dart in front it her. He was far away but she slashed the knife forward and a scream echoed. Carol woke and the dream faded quickly, just like a needle stuck in a record groove it was always the same, more of an annoyance than scary to her now.
She’d long since dismissed the actual act her stepfather subjected her to as a child. She’d almost pushed it so far into the back of her memories it was mixed with vague bits of a horror movie she saw once, she seemed to not differentiate between the two on occasion. It was well past midnight, maybe closer to dawn than she first thought and she needed to pee and get some cold water. The rain tapped on the aluminium roof and she thanked her good sense to spend the extra money to have a chemical toilet fitted in the shower recess of the van. Quietly as she could she tiptoed down the van and opened the fridge, hoping not to wake Rick with the fridge light.
It all happened so fast, the fridge door opened and the light caught his lower body at the same instant his semen shot out his cock and onto his stomach. She stopped dead in her tracks when she realized what he was doing; she blinked hard a couple of times to confirm her vision and looked at his hand on his cock. He opened his eyes to see her as she spun away, the fridge door shut turning the van back into darkness.
“Oh shit! Oh Carol, I’m sorry, FUCK!”
She took a few steps and slid the shower door closed and peed, her thoughts were jumbled; she tried to concentrate on emptying her bladder, hoping he’d say nothing. She screwed up her face as she opened the shower door; her only thought was for him to say nothing. Let it go Rick, don’t say anything please for Christ sake, don’t speak. She stepped towards her bed. But Rick lost it, he started begging her forgiveness; offering her his soul as an apology.
She stood at the edge of her bed knowing that she had to say something; it’d build to a massive problem if she didn’t, his immaturity showed through and she felt sorry for him, embarrassment for what she’d seen, so she went back and sat on his bed, pulled the sheet off his face. She assured him it was okay, she didn’t care if he wanked, that it wasn’t any of her business and not to stress out about it. He kept muttering how embarrassed he was while she opened the fridge and got the cold water bottle and took a good swig.
“Forget it Rick, Please don’t make a big deal about it”
And then from nowhere it came.
“I love you so much Carol”
She put her hands to her face.
“Shit! I told you not to fall for me, that’s all I fuckin need right now”
“I’m sorry Carol, I can’t help it, I can’t stop my feelings, and I can’t turn them off”
Nothing more was said and she left him alone. They hardly spoke for the next few days but it eased up and within the week they were laughing and chatting again. But one thing happened after all this, Carol was more dominant with him, she realised that if she was going to have his friendship and have it the way she wanted, she had to be that way, and he responded perfectly to her.
“If you love me, then you’ll do as you’re told, understand, done my way?” she held his hand and squeezed to demand a reply.
He was eighteen now, the time passed quickly and their friendship grew so strong in that first year that most on the crew thought they were lovers. Neither said a word to the contrary, but they lived a very different friendship. The no sex rule was enforced. She never gave him a reason, just demanded she not be touched in a sexual way, and he kept his word. They held hands sometimes, sat close and kissed, like a brother and sister would, just affectionate pecks. They’d see each other naked, she’d talk to him while he showered, she ever used tweezes to extract a cattle tick from the base of his penis, one hand held his cock while she pulled the little parasite out. He got hard, but she just told him to grow up. He’d masturbate when the tension built, in the dark of the night, in secret. He had to.
Familiarity bred something more as the months went by, and one day when she was cranky for no particular reason she admonished him for something trivial, he replied with a “Yes Mistress, anything you say oh mighty ruler of the dumb fuck man” She burst out laughing and told him to watch himself or he’d end up across her knee. His quip back was “Any time you wish oh mighty Mistress”
The teasing between them was now blatant with little self censorship left. He even told her he was masturbating frequently and sought her approval more than once. She’d make him horny and then told him to go to his own bed, tell him if she’d allowed him to masturbate that night or not. And most nights she’d deny him, just as she denied intimate touching; but he was getting braver by the week and one night he wouldn’t stop. He started a sexual tease with her, told her how he’d start massaging her body and suck her nipples, eat her pussy and tongue her asshole out, he was trying to get her worked up but all she got was got cranky, he’d miss-read the signals that night, she was not in a playful mood and she kept telling him that, but he would not stop, he kept niggling away at her and she warned him one last time to shut up or she’d do something about it.
“Do something, what’s that mean Carol? Are you going to fuck me or spank me” he laughed and she grunted as she got out of bed, grabbed the large wood spoon from the top of the stove and dragged his naked body from under the sheet. She pulled him across her lap with a hand full of his blond hair and spanked him as hard and as fast as she could.
He was ecstatic inside at what was happening. The spoon cracked onto his bottom and heat started to build - but he didn’t find it a problem, as a matter of fact, he groaned and enjoyed the sensation.
The smack of the broad timber spoon echoed around the quiet still night, and after about a minute of furious swatting on his buttocks Dallas’s dog started to bark; it broke the spell for a second and she realized his cock was hard and pressing into her leg so she stopped. Carols mind was fuzzy, she was really enjoying this spanking and she smiled as he squirmed on her lap. This she could get used to, this was some real power. She’d never spanked anyone before, never played and BDSM games, but she was well aware of what went on. She was once second away from throwing him on the bed and fucking his nuts off, but she was desperate to keep in control. Her demons where still lurking in her brain, she was not ready for the next step. She didn’t yell, just spoke calmly.
“You got what you wanted, so one last time, shut the fuck up or I’ll ignore you for a week, is that want you want, a real punishment”
She pushed him off and he sat on the edge of the bed and made no attempt to cover his erection; she caught sight of it as the shadows moved about in the dark van.
“Yeah I know you’re going to wank now, even if I deny you and I have no way of stopping you at two in the morning.”
She grabbed the box of tissues off the top of the fridge and threw them at him.
“I don’t know where you shoot your spoof but at least have the decency to do it into a tissue. ‘Cause this place is starting to smell like a fucking lion’s cage. I want that to stop or I’ll ban you from wanking full stop, and I mean it, no games. And be quiet about it, I don’t want to hear a single moan, or feel the van move, you got that”
She didn’t wait for a reply just thumped her feet on the plywood floor, turned up the aircon unit and flopped onto her bed. She was pleased with this little turn of events. She had more power than ever now and she pushed her hand into her underpants and closed her eyes.
The year followed in a similar fashion. They played teasing games and she spanked him on the odd occasion. She made him promise not to ask for sex or try to initiate it, but he pushed the edges of sex play as far as he could with her. She even watched him masturbate one night after hours of him nagging her, she bit his nipple and squeezed his balls as he orgasmed, but that was as far as they went.
New Years day saw Madam Shishika - in her full costume - sitting on his lap in the privacy of the van after several cold drinks after a busy year. She kissed him, a proper kiss, tongues and slobber and the taste of bourbon swilled around in his mouth. Carol felt his cock harden and his hand went to her breast and started to squeeze. Realizing she almost went beyond the point of no return she pulled away.
“Fuck! I’m sorry, I can’t do this, it’ll fuck everything up, I’m sorry Rick, you don’t understand, there’s something I haven’t told you, just, just forget what happened” She cried and locked the door to her room.
“What’s wrong Carol, you can tell me please, I love you Carol”
“Will you stop saying that, please Ricky, just drop it, leave me alone, I can’t do this anymore, I can’t be what you want.”
She cried loudly and he backed away. That long hot night was one he’d take with him for the rest of his life.
The next morning she tried her best to tell him her story. About her past and her reluctance of having a sexual relationship, she didn’t understand it herself as to why she could not have sex, the struggle she had when someone touched her, she wanted to, she could masturbate and have wonderful orgasms, just being touched sexually and the thought of penetration she could not do. She broke down and cried as she told him about being repeatedly raped for years by her stepfather and the scar it left on her. He was angry and wanted to get revenge for her. He held her in his arms and their friendship changed, he no longer tormented her. They’d sit and kiss for hours and she’d hold him as he masturbated, but he never once tried to talk her into sex, whatever she wanted to do, it was up to her. He was more in love with her than ever and catered for her every whim, made her life as comfortable as he could and never upset her.
A few months later Rick packed some cloths in the same bag he started with, left a letter for Carol on the table telling her he loved her more than life; that he’d be back and begged her to wait, that he’d only be a few months. He had a few things to take care of, a few places he needed to go. He wanted her to thank everyone and tell them all he’d be back soon. Then without a word to anyone, he walked to the nearest truck stop and asked for a ride south.
He worked as a fruit picker in New South Wales for a few weeks before he went to see Shirley at the Starlight Road House. His timing couldn’t have been better. Jack arrived to take Shirley sapphire hunting in the gem fields of western Queensland for a few weeks and she was still looking for someone to take over while she was away. She spent two days giving Rick intense cooking lessons, teaching him the till and getting him to meet a few of the locals. He enjoyed that two weeks. It gave him time to clear his thoughts. He left a message for Carol at the Mount Isa Post office and she rang. Tears flowed and their sentences made little sense. She told him to go and get a good fuck and forget about her for a while, that she needed some time to herself as well. He told her he loved her.
“I love you too” she said and she hung up before he could say anything more.
I’ll have one order of Dominatrix, extra lube, hold the whip.
The lamented cover had not been spot on with it was put through the machine; the cardboard license with his photo on it was skewed. He looked at it and smiled. He’d done it; he’d legally changed his name to Rick Jones. Something he’d wanted for so long. No one would make fun of that name, there’d be no barbs, no associating with Germans and Hitler, no jokes about Shultz or goose stepping. He’d never be called a Nazi again. He thought about how cruel children could be when ignorant, and that was okay, but when some drunken rodeo clown got wind of his name once and taunted him, calling him a Nazi and asked him to salute he knew it would never stop.
He wrote a brief letter to his parents as he knew they’d expect nothing rambling and then he watched the city from the motel balcony as he contemplated the future, short term and long, he’d already decided he’d head back to Carol but there was just one more thing he had on his list that was not crossed off. He had to do it, he loved Carol, but if he was going to be in a celibate relationship then he needed to have sex, no complications, nothing behind her back.
It was a quieter than usual night, a cold rain had been pelting down most of the day but had eased off not more than 30 minutes before. He looked at the card in his hand and asked the cab driver for The Erotic Dreams Club. A card the barman at the motel where he’d been staying for the past two weeks had given to him, written on the back was JD.
“Give that to the doorman, he’s JD, he’s a mate of mine”
He was assured the place was classy and above bored.
The first thing he saw when he stepped out of the car was a young woman squatting and urinated at the edge of a garden bed that surround the park. Her skirt was up around her waste and she showed no sign of modesty. Her feet had dirty runners and her jacket was frayed. Her long blond hair was wet and stringy but she was very pretty under the sadness on her face. She smiled at him, but it was well practiced and fake.
“You can fuck my ass for fifty bucks” The girl stood, pushed her skirt down and took a cigarette from her pocket and lit it. The cab roared off and he saw shadows move in the bushes behind her as a few smaller shapes started to emerge, they were young, fifteen or younger and he quickly turned and headed for the black glass door and pushed the button under the neatly hand painted “For Service” sign. It was warm inside and he gave the card to the huge well dressed Maori man with tattoos on his face. The big man flipped the card over and smiled.
“My names Joseph, anything you need brother, just let me know”
“There are a couple of young punks outside, and a girl offered sex for fifty bucks, I reckon you should know about that”
‘Eh! Jeez, thanks, they’ve been giving us the shits lately. Go up stairs bro, the girls will look after you, no worries”
The doorman picked up a phone and pushed buttons as Rick took the narrow stairs up one flight. A well lit doorway led to a modest room with lots of red and black colours and he hesitated for a second, but it was too late to back out now. Within 30 seconds of him paying the receptionist the money a small attractive Asian girl in florescent underwear and a lacy see through dress walk to the reception desk and looked at the booking sheet, he pointed to her and she smiled and took his hand. She was sexy and smelt nice and he didn’t have to do anything or be the words best lover, he wasn’t even nervous when she undressed him and tugged at his hand leading him into the shower. She washed his body and told him he was handsome and strong and asked him if he had a favourite position.
After the deed was done the girl took him back to the reception desk and giggled, whispered something in the receptionist’s ear and giggled again. The receptionist looked at him and at his groin and swallowed.
“You got a big cock there have you?”
The smiling receptionist had a thin face that showed acne scars when he looked at her closely, but she wasn’t unattractive and her German accent made him think of his past for a few seconds and he tried to block it out. But he couldn’t help himself, he had to say a few words in German, she was obviously a native and her accent was nothing like his clan or the community, which made him curious.
The receptionist laughed when he told her in German that he had no idea if his cock was bigger than normal, that he’d never looked at another mans erection before. She made a few quips and as they traded more sentences she realized his German skills were excellent and she spoke fast and frantic, just as if they were old friends catching up on gossip after years apart. She told him about where she’d been and what she’d done. Strange emotions hit him and he didn’t know if he was happy or sad about ignoring his German side and what he’d done to his parents.
Kirsten gave Rick a beer and he leant against the chest high bar and briefly told her his story, she genuinely listened and told him about the backpackers that she knew if he wanted to stay in Sydney a little longer. She’d meet him for a coffee there on Sunday if he wanted, show him around the place and introduce him to some of her German friends.
He was delighted that it was all so easy; he figured this trip to the brothel was going to be a strange clandestine thing and they’d take his money like robots and push him out the door when he was finished.
More than thirty minutes of conversation went by and another beer and only one more booking showed for the Asian girl. She ventured through the black curtain when she was finished and made a cup of tea even though she looked half asleep; she smiled at Rick and told him to bring his big cock back anytime as she shuffled off. She split the curtain and walked through just as a tall good looking woman walked from the other side. Bright red lipstick, long black hair, leather chaps and black underwear strolled toward the water dispenser; she had a long thick cane with a curved end tucked under her arm and the heels of her boots clicked on the scuffed dull parquetry floor.
“That useless prick just cancelled on me again, I’ve been sitting in there for a fucking hour waiting for him. I’ll double fist his arse next time he comes in.”
Her accent was very thick and sounded Danish, Rick looked at her for a second and then continued talking, but Kirsten looked back, screwed up her face, gritted her teeth and said “Nien”
The tall woman looked at them both.
“This is not the local pub, if you want to talk do it on your own time, if you want to fuck, pay your money”
Kirsten opened the palm of her hand and pushed it towards the tall woman the gesture of introduction but she hesitated then pointed to Rick with her finger.
“This is Rick, he’s a client, a new one, and he might stay in town for a while. It was his first time here tonight, I was explaining to him about our discount on a second visit, you know, about the repeat business thing”
The woman walked over and stuck her hand out; Rick gently gave it a couple of shakes.
“I’m Mistress Imogen Rick; I’m delighted you chose us tonight. Did you have a good time, who was it that attended to you?”
He couldn’t quiet understand her and looked at Kirsten - asking in German what was said. Mistress Imogen narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down. Kirsten spoke to Rick in German, telling him not to piss her off and speak in English, and then she looked at Mistress Imogen and quickly added in English. “Tina looked after him Mistress, Jade had to go early and Beth didn’t make it in tonight”.
Rick looked straight back at Kirsten and asked her who the fuck this crazy woman with the cane was.
The imposing women pursed her lips.
“Well, it’s lucky that we are not busy then isn’t it Kirsten, otherwise you’d be fucking the clients, wouldn’t you?”
She looked at Kirsten with some annoyance and then turned her attention to Rick.
“You don’t look like a traveller Rick; you’re not from Germany are you?”
Rick looked at her and shook his head.
“Come now, you do speak English don’t you?”
“Um, no, I mean yes, and I’m err, from Victoria, I mean, I’m from Victoria but I live, well, um-“
She sighed with impatience and spoke over the top of him. “So then, I’ll assume you speaking to Kirsten in German was to keep me out of the conversation or was it some other form of disrespect?” Her diction was clearer and took on a sarcastic edge.
“Um, I er, what, I don’t understand what do you mean?”
“Ignoring my question and turning your head and talking to my receptionist in German is what I mean. That is incredibly rude”
The woman took the cane from under her arm and taped it across the palm of her hand. Kirsten cleared her throat and busied herself behind the bar, trying to avert attention away. Rick watched Kirsten’s movements for a few seconds and turned back to Mistress Imogen almost spluttering his reply.
“Um, ah, sorry, err, Mistress whatever your name is, I didn’t know her name, I mean she told me before we did it, but I think I forgot and I-” Ricks words trailed off as Imogen looked him up and down and sighed. He rolled his eyes at her, thinking it was no more than a game, something like he and Carol had used to play together, totally unaware of the protocols of a Pro Dominatrix.
“How dare you roll your eyes at me, have you no respect, and my name is Imogen dear boy, don’t forget it again. Do you realize what I am?”
He looked closely at her face and eyes, she was incredibly attractive, her painted lips were thick and her cheek bones high, her nose perfect and at a closer look he could she wore very little makeup, and he could see the paws in her skin as she pushed her face closer to his. This utterly gorgeous dominant woman before him made his heart pound and his forehead sweat – his cock started to swell.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand you, I don’t understand your accent, what did she say Kirsten?”
He looked at Kirsten but she had her back turned making a coffee and had no interest in where this was heading, Rick looked back as Imogen’s eyes stared at is groin. She clicked her tongue and smiled.
“I’m a Dominatrix and the manager of this establishment Ricky, hmm, that has a nice ring to it; your name, it’s not German, is it, maybe short for something, like Hienrick or Frederick”
He tensed at that name and she saw it.
“Ah, so its Frederick is it”
Looking down at the bulge in his jeans she put the end of the cane on the lump and pushed gently; he stayed still, resisting the temptation to swat the cane from his groin. She scolded him like an annoyed school teacher.
“You know what I do Ricky, I take rude boys like you and teach them some manners, usually via the sting of this cane.” She swished the cane through the air and put her hands on her hips, waiting for his reaction.
Rick pushed his luck; he turned to Kirsten and tapped the top of the bar, asking her in German what was going on and what the fuck was a dominatrix. Kirsten shook her head as Imogen growled from her throat like a cranky cat.
“You do that one more time and I’ll de-pants you bend you over that table there and cane some manners into you. Fucking rude boy”
Rick didn’t panic; most would have run out the door and down the street with words like that, but not him. He’d played this game with Carol, maybe not as brutal or obvious, but still, he’d ridden the threats and teasing and mind games, he knew that dominant women were like everyone else; they just wanted to be noticed, to be enjoyed, to be appreciated, and to be loved. Unfortunately Rick had not realised that Dominant women, those like Imogen, also wanted to have it all their own way, there was much for him to learn but he was young and full of self importance and without thinking about the consequences or where the night might end up, he straightened his back and looked at her face.
“If you think I’m being disrespectful I am not. I just didn’t know what you asked, I didn’t understand your accent, so I thought I’d ask Kirsten, in German, as to not embarrass you, and I don’t consider that was a rude option. And I also don’t fall for your intimidation either. All this Mistress stuff, I know it’s just an act for the clients. And besides, I very much doubt that you’d even be able to bend me over”
He gave her his best cheeky smile – the same one that used to make Carol melt. The Danish woman looked at him and smiled back.
“Well, well well. What have we here? A very rude boy who talks back, I like you Ricky, I do, and I think my cane is going to like your bare bottom, because I can assure you, sometime in the next hour, you and it will become acquainted, if you have the balls for it that is”
Mistress Imogen’s eyes lit up and she grinned wider, looking at Kirsten and then back to Rick, she was ecstatic and turned on by this young man. She was sick of the boring middle aged executive suites that would come to her and want to lick her feet and grovel on the floor. She liked submissive men, but she liked her men to be men, she loved the power of dominating strong personalities, it drove her system and made her horny. Toe suckers and grovellers did nothing for her, except make her a very comfortable income.
It was a slow night at Erotic Dreams, rainy Mondays always were; Imogen was cranky she’d come all the way into work and gotten in her gear for one regular that canceled, but she saw something in this young man. She moved towards him and he backed up, bumping into the bar.
“You’re a very handsome young man Ricky, and the hard cock in your pants tells me you find this all very sexy”
She purposely spoke slowly and concentrated to think in English and not Danish and then have to convert her sentences. She was just starting to get the hang of that trick; but it had taken her a few years. She was even starting to have the odd dream in English so she knew she was close to mastering that skill. English was a shit of a language to learn, one word could have ten meanings and she thought carefully about what to say next.
Rick looked at her face. “I’m not scared of you” He kept his words clear and didn’t quiver, but inside he was scared, not of her so much, but as to where this all might lead. She moved her body against his and he arched back further as the hard square edge of the bar top pushed into his spine. Her face moved up against his and she rubbed cheek against cheek and then licked the side of his face. He was astounded at this intimate act but stayed perfectly still - like a scared rabbit hiding in the dark as the hungry fox sniffed the air.
“Hmm, what to do with you Ricky, what do I do with a rude young boy like you? Do I cane you, maybe tie you up and give a little torture, maybe a little bit of cock and ball abuse, I could stretch your asshole with a fat dildo, or maybe my fist, what do you say Ricky? I’m bored and horny and I need this, but of course, I will get a genuine apology from you for your rudeness.”
Her lips brushed against his as she spoke and teased him – flicking her tongue out the tip kissed his face. His cock filled with more blood, stinging the skin as it pushed against the metal zipper of his jeans. He wished he’d worn underwear.
Imogen purred in is ear and caught sight of the clock over the bar, it was after one in the morning and she really was horny, it wasn’t an act. She felt like she’d had a hot sky rocket between her legs in the last few days and the fuse was ready for the match. She got that way sometimes, and tonight she wanted some fun, she hoped he wouldn’t run from her. All other submissive men would have been “yes Mistress and no Mistress” by now so she took an immediate liking to this brave young man. She figured him for something special. He was obviously submissive, maybe one of those men that come along once every now and then, the perfect alpha male, his looks and strong composure, his intelligence and sparkle, he showed confidence in his scraggly shirt and out-grown tight jeans. She decided she’d ease up on him, if she was going to get him tonight; she’d have to at least offer him some serious sex.
“No, I was not being rude, just being honest, I’m always honest, and really, I’m not scared of you, my girlfriend is a bigger nastier bitch than you are.”
“Ha! Oh really, your girlfriend you say, a girlfriend that does not fuck you, sounds like you’re fibbing to me Ricky, and fibbing boys get their bottoms smacked.”
He felt weaker now, she was so powerful and smart and she could see the vulnerable boy showing in his eyes. She licked his cheek again; her tongue cruised up and over his nose and across his left eye, he tried to resist shutting the right eye, but squeezed both lids tightly. Her breath was peppermint and her perfume smelt like freshly ground sweet spices. He didn’t resist as she pushed her hand down the front of his jeans, pulling the material tight into his back. She palmed his cock and gently cupped his balls and started rolling them between her fingers. He couldn’t help it, his hand went to her arm and he put slight pressure on her.
“Did I say you could touch me you little scrotum. Remove your hand from my arm or I’ll cane you right now, and if you think I’m bluffing, just try me”
Rick waited for his good sense to kick in, he knew he had to pull her hand away, walk out of there and go home to his friends, back to Carol, back to Wolfe and Dallas, the ones that protected him from getting taunted and into fights with the local cowboys, the ones that looked out for him, they were his family, his comfort zone. But this thrilling new possibility blinded him. He let go and swallowed - he could not actually move now, this woman could cause enormous damage to his testicles if she wanted to. He submitted and relaxed his stance.
“That’s better Ricky, I thought you’d come around to my way of thinking, but I still like your spirit. I also like the fact that you have this big hard cock after fucking Tina not so long ago, that’s most impressive.
He was gone, his heart pounded and nerves washed in his stomach, and he knew in that split second he was hers, that what ever she asked him to do that night, he’d do. He pushed his tongue around his mouth and tried to find some moisture to swallow and he saw the delight in her eyes as she knew she had him too. It was something that did not have to be said between them. He focused on her eyes, they were dark chocolate in their shade with flecks of green and they sparkled under the light; he’d never forget their distinct colour.
She cooed her words and licked his lips.
“You shouldn’t be scared Ricky, only wimps with no balls are scared, and yours are heavy and full of juice, I can feel it. And just for you, just for tonight, I could make these balls sing, I can make the skin on your cock stretch until you think it’s going to explode, I’ll fuck you stupid like you’ve never been fucked before.
She squeezed him gently and he grunted a little but kept his composure. Slow and deliberate she moved her hand and stroked his cock as she rubbed her face against his. A bead of sweet ran down the center of his back, it felt like a little spider crawling on his skin and he shivered and moved uncomfortably at her words, his balls tingled, his cock throbbed in her hand and juice dribbled from the eye and slicked her palm, a minute more and he would orgasm, the build up was well and truly on the edge.
“There’s just one condition Ricky: You submit to me, and you know what I mean, I know you’re not stupid, I can see it in your eyes, I know you want Mistress Imogen to give you a nice hard spanking”
Rick shuddered and sucked air over his teeth at her words.
“Oh dear Kirsten, his cock is about to blow, he’s already starting to jizz in my hand. I think this young man needs a freebie from Mistress Imogen”
She looked at him and flicked her tongue at the end of his nose.
“What do you think Kirsten, do you think this boy is up to the task of making me happy?”
Kirsten clicked her pen and stood quickly as a mature man in an expensive grey suit and polished black shoes stopped when he saw the scene before him. She moved to usher the man into the video room.
“Only one way to find out Mistress”
Kirsten spoke quickly to Rick in German as she walked past.
“Go on Rick, you won’t regret it, if she kisses you she really does like you, she never kisses anyone.”
Imogen pulled her hand from his pants and looked at the bead of pre-cum on her finger, she licked it and swallowed. “Hmmm, yummy boy cum, I want more” She put the cane on the counter top, draped her arms over his shoulders and swayed him in time to the soft music coming from the speakers in the ceiling. They watched the bewildered man being lead through the black velvet curtains and Rick looked back at her face.
“How old are you again Ricky?”
“Hmm a nineteen year old diamond in the rough”.
The Mistress chuckled and kissed the young man, her tongue sensual and experienced, she pulled back and whispered in his ear; he concentrated to understand as her English deteriorated.
“I’m not a complicated woman Ricky; I just like to have pleasure. I want you. If you give me pleasure, I’ll give it back. Come home with me”
She let go and stepped back, held out her hand and smiled. She was incredibly horny; she loved young guys, it was a fetish she had, not a weird thing for boys, but that point they moved to manhood, the eighteen to twenty one mark and he was perfect. Her juices flowed through her for the first time in ages. Sometimes she was just so sick of being the big bad bitch; she never had sex with her clients, just a rule of hers, and she needed it tonight, she wanted to be held and she saw something gentle in the eyes of this young man. Could this be him, her new sub, she liked him at first sight and if it was, she’d never let him go. She wondered briefly if - at the ripe old age of twenty nine she still had enough power to entice a fresh young man to stay.
Unidentifiable noise woke him. His mouth tasted foul and he could smell stale bourbon and cigarettes, hear voices and cars outside and his brain throbbed at the temples. Slowly he moved his naked body and felt pain in his bottom region; he pinched his sphincter muscles and winced, his rectum felt like it’d had a football stuck up it. His stomach ballooned with hunger and nausea and his bladder screamed for relief.
Lifting his chin to see empty wine bottles on the table he tried to swallow but couldn’t, he placed a hand on the floor for balance and pushed aside a cushion and screwed up towel. A large black candle on the coffee table still flickered wildly as a cool morning breeze flowed through the open balcony doors and he pulled his other arm free from his belly. Much to the anger of his pounding brain he focused on his watch. Yawning as he sat he tried to form spit in his mouth, slicking his fingers he snuffed out the candle and looked at the blue dildo attached to a harness laying on the table. A tube of lubricant was beside it, the top off and the clear liquid puddled at the nozzle. He remembered now. He actually spoke out loud, but just above a whisper.
“Christ, what the fuck was I thinking?” He rubbed his face and looked around the room.
“I don’t know about you but that was one hell of a fuck session my cute sexy Ricky. You’re just what the doctor ordered, a little bunny full of what do you call it? fucking beans, you know that battery add, where the little rabbit won’t stop, that was you last night, you nearly wore me out.”
The words came from a tall lean naked woman with bright blonde hair cut in a Mohawk as she walked into the lounge and sifted thought the coffee table contents, she pushed aside a shrivelled used condom and dug out a packet of French cigarettes, stuck one to her lips and lit it. Her Danish accent triggered his brain as it all came rushing back to him.
His eyes were level with her groin, it was two feet from his face and for a second he felt a little embarrassed until then realized what had happened, what they’d done. He blinked and looked at the totally shaved skin and could make out the dark blonde hairs starting to grow back, he remembered them pricking his lips.
“You okay Ricky?”
He was hung-over but brave and stuck his finger out and poked at the soft flesh between her legs. She moved her hips and he watched the red and black tattoo of a female devil just above the folds of her pussy, it seemed to dance, just like it did before, it had him fascinated, just as fascinated as the up close and personal relationship he’d made with her gentiles in the early hours of the morning.
She took a step towards him and pushed her groin into his face. Her scent was strong and his tongue licked forward at the crease in her flesh, but she pulled away and cupped her hand over her mouth, coughing hard as the cigarette bit into her lungs. In broken English she told him after a shower he could have a pussy snack. He squinted and yawned, even though his jaw ached like he’d been punched, her black wig was on the top of the TV and the leather pants draped over the arm of the chair. He tried to remember the last thing before he fell asleep, but couldn’t. He looked at the shaved part of her head around her temples and above her ears - she looked so different without her wig it was a bit of a shock for him, he could not remember if he saw her without it last night or not. As a matter of fact, he was trying to remember the last thing he did, was it her sucking his cock, or was he massaging her feet as the sun came up. No, he had no idea.
Imogen dragged on her cigarette and pulled his head to her groin, running a hand through his thick blond hair like she was stroking her favourite pet. His cheek rested against her skin as he tried to form a sentence.
“I feel sick, I think I’m gonna chuck”.
“Chuck? No slang Ricky, I don’t know this chuck?”
“Sick, I think I’m going to vomit”
“Hmm, yes, you insisted on drinking straight Jack Daniels, I warned you, come on; let’s get you to the toilet”
Imogen pulled at his arm and half dragged him through the hallway.
“Jeez, my asshole is so sore”
She laughed and spoke a sentence in Danish at his comment but her humour was soon gone as she only just managed to get him into the bathroom before he lurched at the open shower recess and emptied a bellyful of sour bile and liquid onto the tiled floor. Imogen groaned her disapproval in a sentence of her own language and turned on the shower taps; Rick heaved more liquid a few times and held onto the glass panel, he straightened up and emptied his bladder into the shower as he splashed a handful of water to his face. He felt as if his brain was going to come out of his eye sockets as Imogen handed him a bubbling glass of water.
“Aspirin Ricky, you’ll need them”
“Oh god, never again, I’ll never drink again”
She couldn’t resist the target his cute bruised bum made and slapped it hard. But he didn’t react.
“I didn’t think I was, I don’t remember feeling drunk, fuck my head hurts”
Imogen pushed past him and handed him a tooth brush and paste and dragged him under the shower water.
“You’re a wicked wicked boy Ricky” She smiled and grabbed at his balls.
Bondi Beach was not as big as he thought it would be. The most famous beach in the country was small and crowded and the water was freezing. He’d been used to the warm waters and long wide beaches of Queensland and this was a bit of a let down. He waded in like he was walking through a nest of floating snakes and he shivered. “Fuck this” He dove under and came up out of breath. The cold was welcomed on the skin of his sore butt though and he bobbed up and down for a few minutes as the small surf rolled through - but his stay would not be long in the cold southern waters.
Imogen watched Rick as he sipped his coffee. She felt at instant ease with him and she liked him a lot, which was unusual for her, it usually took her a while to warm to someone new, especially someone as young as he was, but she knew the language of young men well and he seemed far more intelligent and mature than others she’d toyed with, so far he was a perfect candidate for her, and she really thought she felt a proper spark for him.
The long chat over coffee had told Imogen more than she wanted to know. It started out well, they sat in the sun on the balcony and watched the street below, talking about everything from sex to movies to music and then Imogen asked him straight out to stay with her, as her companion, he’d need not have to do anything, just be with her. He was taken back and didn’t know what to tell her. At first he avoided answering. He looked at the table and watched her smoke. She pushed her sunglasses on her nose.
“I know this might be sudden Ricky, but I do like you. You like me don’t you?”
“Yeah Imogen, but jeez, we only met last night, and I don’t know, I mean, did I tell you about Carol”?
And as a way of avoiding a straight out answer – he started talking about Carol, and eventually worked in the conversation that he was his way back to her, and when he did, Imogen showed disappointed. But, she knew about life and she knew that most men never considered a real relationship with those in her profession, they may have no trouble paying them, they may even fall in love with them, but as to taking them home to the family for Christmas, well she was realistic about it.
Imogen conceded, there was no use trying to force him to stay, so she talked to him about Carol, about what she probably was feeling after years of sexual abuse, and as to why she was having problems… that the loss of power that Carol would feel if she let herself relax was too great for her to over come.
“It’s a self preservation thing Ricky, when a women is raped, she does not what to loose control of the situation again”
Imogen held his hand.
“Ricky, just sit down with her, look into her eyes, tell her you love her and you’d never ever hurt her, lean forward and kiss her, don’t let her get away, kiss her, tell her she is the only thing that matters in your life, believe in the words and I bet she’ll respond”
Imogen asked Rick to stay a few more days, told him that she’d teach him a few more things before he left. He didn’t decline her invitation and they sat close as she held his hand. She also told him that if Carol had moved on, and he couldn’t find her, that he was to come straight back to her. Rick looked at her and he felt something, he saw something in Imogen’s eyes that was so comforting to him.
Imogen was asleep when he got back from his walk around the local shops; he was almost pleased, he’d made his mind up that he needed to get out of Sydney, and he wasn’t looking forward to an emotional goodbye to this most fantastic woman he’d know for just a day. He left her alone and took a cab to the hotel room, got his few things and paid the bill. He was down to his last few hundred dollars and rang Imogen instead of heading all the way back to Bondi. She was disappointed he didn’t wake her up before leaving and told him he should come and stay at her place for a few more days, but unfortunately she had a few clients she had to whip and the money was needed; she would probably not be home until midnight.
“Come into work with me Ricky, you can talk to Kirsten, play cards with Joseph, anything you want, just don’t leave me without kissing me goodbye”
He declined, said he had the chance to take a bus back north, that the longer he stayed the harder it would be to leave. They both got emotional over the phone, Rick felt so comfortable with Imogen, even more so than with Carol, it was such a different situation. Imogen was so easy to be himself around, he didn’t need to be guarded or think about what he said, he could relax and she was so cool about anything that came from his mouth. He could easily slot into her life and he knew that was dangerous. Imogen started getting dominant on him over the phone and told him he should at least meet her before he runs off and he had to wait in the city and she’d come and see him.
“Fuck this Imogen, I can’t, you know if I do I won’t be able to leave, I told you I fall in love at first sight, I told that happened with Carol, it’ll happen with you too. I can’t do that to Carol; I promised her I’d be back”. Rick’s voice quivered as tears rolled down his cheeks.
Imogen told him he was wise beyond his years and made him promise her that he’d be sensible and sane. He gave her old Jacks postal address and phone number, telling her to send anything there and he’d eventually get it, and in her thick Danish accent she said goodbye and be happy.
Tears rolled down his cheeks as he hung up the phone, why did this happen to him, he could easy live with this crazy Danish woman, she was amazing, why did he met these two wonderful women one after the other, he cursed the situation that he’d put himself into.
Imogen pushed the end call button on the phone and dropped it on the lounge, she picked up the wig and took a hair brush off the table and sat on the balcony, grooming her Mistress hair. She sniffed and wiped a tear from her face. She was astounded she felt so emotional over this person, someone she’d know for less than 24 hours. It would have been easier for her if he’d been her client; she had no trouble turning off then. She packed her work bag with cloths and fitted her wig and tried to forget him.
The noise of a bus pulling out made him shift his blank stare from the People Magazine; he tapped his foot softly and studied the ugly lime coloured tiles at the base of the wall, waiting for the call for the bus to Mount Isa and all the while trying hard not to think about the last 24 hours. He tossed the well read two year old magazine back on the pile and drifted off to the fishing spot he and his Grandfather used to go to when he was a child. He could picture the cold winter’s morning and the hot soup in the thermos, the feel of the icy wind that kissed his young skin. He tried hard to remember the smell of the Dr. Pat pipe tobacco his grandfather smoked, it was a smell that he loved from his youth, a smell that meant comfort and happiness, for his grandfather was kind and gentle and he missed him. It was his best time as a child, he would teach his Grandfather English as they fished and he’d listen to stories about the good country people and simple lives before the war, before greed, hate and fear consumed Germany.
His Grandfather was not afraid to talk about the war, unlike most Germans who lived through it and pretend it didn’t happen. His grandfather told him about what he knew, about the crazy way humans act under pressure, and how powerful an enemy we can be to ourselves if we fall victim to our own fears.
“Be not afraid young man; don’t follow others because you think you should, or because they tell you it’s good for you, if you want to be different, be different, if you can’t be yourself in one place, move to a place you can.”
Rick thought about those words all the time, they were the catalyst for his leaving home. And sometimes when they got strong in his head he’d block them out with the same recurring fantasy, a simple life away from everyone, on his own, no one to bother him, just to heal from the pain he felt. But now his world was all different and he could not concentrate on his pretend world anymore, it would not come back. He thought about Carol and Imogen, why did he fall in love, why did his brain crave Carol so strongly, why did he feel pain in his heart for leaving Imogen, it was crazy, he’d only known her a day.
His arse hurt as he shifted on the hard seats of the Grey Hound Bus as it constantly braked for cars and traffic lights. Light misty rain on the windows blurred the street lights and made everything look hard and bold. An old man sat next to him and started talking, Rick never encouraged him, but there was little he could do, and out of respect, like he’d have shown his own grandfather, he listened, it made the hours pass quickly and at some stage he drifted off to sleep. Missing a good six hours of the trip he woke up when the bus driver called a rest stop on the PA. The sun was peaking through the clouds and he remembered there was something important he’d forgotten to for a while. Eat. There was a 20 minute stop and he scoffed down two meat pies and a chocolate milk shake. He rang Imogen, knowing that she would not answer the phone at 5am and he left a half goofy love message on her machine, he was still torn apart. He tried hard to sleep as much as he could on the trip back.
The relief he felt when he saw Carol running towards him was one of the best memories of his life. They talked for hours and he told her every single detail of his trip to Sydney. He had to be honest with her, all about Imogen and the things he felt inside and the fetishes that drove his system, Carol was shocked at first and not enthusiastic about it, she tried to change the subject but he wanted it all out in the open, she even told him straight out she didn’t want to know about his fetishes and what Imogen did with her strapon – but he insisted about not hiding anything from her.
Carol shushed and told him to calm down, that she was happy for him that he’d got his fuck of the century, but she didn’t want to hear about it anymore.
She wasn’t angry, but Rick looked sad with her comments so she hugged him and then he remembered what Imogen told him. He looked at her and told her the power of love he felt for the kooky gypsy from side show alley brought him back, that he’d never hurt her. And just like Imogen told him to, at that right moment when he saw Carol’s eyes start to water, he leaned forward and kissed her.
“I love you Carol, I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll never leave you”
Twenty minutes of sweating and groaning and they fell asleep in each others arms, it was the first time Carol had sex with someone she loved. And she did love him, even though she fought it at every step.
Within a month they were inseparable, and she parked the van further away to hide the sounds of giggling and sex, she even started spanking him for foreplay, just for fun. She had a mildly dominant personality, but she was not over the top, not into dominant costumes or props, no leather or whips or ropes, but as Rick was to learn in life, props and devices are not a necessity to have pleasure, it’s all in your mind.
Carol was really happy for the first time in many years, she lost her demon, she could relax and have sex again and enjoy it, she stopped smoking and drank less, even started jogging with some of the crew, and she beamed the day she got confident enough to get into a singlet and a pair of running shorts. The two of them were happy and planed their future, Carol wanted kids and Rick cried when she suggest it. Marriage was on their minds for sometime in the future and he rang Imogen.
Rick had held his and Imogen’s friendship together with phone calls, it was a strain sometimes but Imogen was happy to hear form him and Carol was never jealous, she was not the type, she knew no one should be owned or controlled to the extent of some, to the extent her step father had over her mother and tried to have over her. She’d never inflict that on Rick.
Can the emotional dead feel love?
The blond girl looked tense; she moistened her lips and held the rail tight as the bus pulled up, the doors flung open and she almost jumped off as the air breaks hissed loudly and scared her. She looked left and right to get her bearings and promised herself this would be a one hit and out town as she walked towards the backpackers’ hostel on the Gold Coast.
The young police officer smiled at her and she looked at her feet. Stupid! She thought. I should have smiled back. They don’t know me here; I have to get it together. She looked over her shoulder at him after she walked past, just in case. The policeman was not interested; he was struggling with the wrapper on his ice-cream. She walked faster and moved around the corner. She had to keep in control and not look so nervous.
A car full of young men blew the horn and turned up the music, whistling and calling to her; she sashayed for them and ducked into the entrance of the backpackers. She put money over the counter and picked up the key, listened to the list of do’s and don’ts from the desk clerk and tried to appear interested, and even though she could not understand more than a handful of his words she smiled and disappeared into the warren of corridors of the old converted factory turned Hostel.
By the time the last Swede had left the bar she was busting for a pee. She hated Swedish men, they were either conceited pretty boys or oafs, and this lot where smart arse oafs - which were the worst. She’d picked out the nice looking quiet young Englishman with the thick wallet; she even spent two hours trying to communicate with him while the Swedes slobbered all over the back of her neck constantly trying to get her to dance.
She managed to get some chat in though; she had no real trouble understanding English if it was basic and spoken slowly, she had more trouble with speaking it. And he just seemed to be a quiet boy, away from home for the first time and a little scared. But the universal language of music and bands kept it flowing enough to keep the drinks coming. She ended up protecting him from the Swedes drunken behaviour at one stage and the grateful young Englishman had no trouble parting with bills to fill her with drinks.
Unfortunately he was the only real choice she had, and normally she would not have picked him, the sadness about his eyes disturbed her a little. He only had a few days left before he went back to England and his mates had abandoned him in search of the elusive local pussy at the late night hot spots – but he was ripe for the picking and a girl had to eat she told herself.
She looked through the slats into the bar area, ensuring no one had followed her, she scurried around the corner to the dark spot by the pool filters, squatted and peed on ground. The backpacker’s toilets were close to the Swedes room and a preying ground which the girls avoided like the plague at this time of night. She opened her purse, got a tissue and her perfume and dried and refreshed her scent, straitened her dress and walked as sexily as she could manage after the seven rum and cokes she’d consumed.
There were only five people left now. He was alone at the bar as the others sat at a table, giggling and chatting loudly. She sat close and after hours of waiting the Swedes out she wasted no time in making her move, she’d been watching him and knew he’d been drinking water for the last hour, pretending it was neat tequila as he kept one eye glued on the Dutch girl with the big tits. All the boys did, the silly girl was drunk and her left breast was constantly escaping the thin boundaries of her tiny top, but she laughed as she pushed it back in, it was almost like a five minute constant, the Dutch girl was clearly well practiced with this system to keep the attention on herself and Claudia despised sluttish behaviour like that. The girl was a terrible cock teaser and had all the boys drooling, she wasn’t even pretty and no doubt the guys would have found it harder to get into her pants than she portrayed.
She looked back at the young English man next to her, remembering his name as Peter she reached over and held his hand. He looked a little shocked and smiled nervously. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was a virgin. She leant over and spoke above the din of the music and laughter.
“Peta, veez alone at last ja, you like me, ja, com, you com with me to room, ja”
Her English was terrible but good enough to be understood at 2 am by the horny almost sober eighteen year old apprentice plumber from Shepherd's Bush. He blinked at the German stunner as she smiled at him; he looked around to see if she was talking to someone else and pointed to his chest and looked confused.
“Ja, you, I like you, com, um, how you say … schlaf, ah, sleep, com sleep with me, fick, ja, fuck, you fuck with me?”
She dragged him from the stool and he picked up his wallet, clutching it tightly in his hand as his head spun at the thought of what was about to happen, the others looked shocked as the sexiest girl in the backpackers steered the frightened Englishman into her room.
Claudia popped the aspirins from the plastic bubble and slugged them down with cold Coke, she pushed the sunglasses off her nose, got her German/English dictionary from her knapsack, folded the newspaper back and looked at the add again, flicked open the dictionary and clicked her tongue
“Hostess wanted excellent conditions and pay”.
She counted out the three hundred dollars that she’d lifted from the young Englishman’s wallet five hours before. She didn’t have any regrets, he got his rocks off, he got to fuck the sexiest piece of German ass this side of the equator, it only cost him his half his money, he was lucky, and it’ll be something he’ll never forget, she even gave him a treat.
Claudia was right about Peters virginity, after he spent five awkward minutes kissing and groping her he admitted it, and then he spent a very awkward 30 seconds trying to put the condom on, he couldn’t, then a few minutes later he shuddered and fell on her. She actually felt sorry for him, he was a nice guy and good looking so she pushed him back on the skinny single bunk and spent twenty minutes giving him a blow job, taking him to the edge and starting again, she finally let him cum in her mouth knowing that he’d fall asleep with ease after such a workout.
But for the first time she didn’t take the lot, she left him the other three hundred and forty dollars. She didn’t consider it stealing, she needed it and she gave him his first fuck and the best head job he’s ever likely to have in his life, it would have cost him that in a brothel, so she considered it payment for services. But she cursed the good part of her being and tried to push it into the black; she’d be much harder from now on – she’d never let her emotions get in the way again.
She stuffed the receipt from the backpackers and her fake Austrian passport into the garbage bin and headed for the bus stop, she’d put on her black wig and baseball cap, dressed in sloppy black t-shirt, jeans and work boots and caked on black lipstick; a gothic change to her appearance and no one gave her a second look - if she kept her head low – she was unrecognizable as the polished sexy German blond with the arse from heaven.
The police showed a glamour photo of a German model they believed was called either Monika or Claudia Lenz; the correct identity was still being investigated, but the hung-over backpackers showed total disinterest as they sweated by the pool in the warm Queensland sun. The smell of sausages burning away on the BBQ caused the young Senior Constable to help himself to a slice of bread, he burnt his fingers retrieving a sausage from the BBQ plate and munched as his superior enquired amongst the backpackers as to their knowledge of the person in the photo. Some focused and shook there heads. The young detective asked if anyone had seen her or knew if she had any friends, the Swedes at looked at each other and shrugged.
“That’s Annie mate,” The Irish guy piped up as the female detective showed him the picture.
“Last time I saw her was aw, about three days ago, she disappeared with Pete, you know, for a screw, Tuesday night, that’s what he said. Never saw her after that, she was a real looker to, better than that photo. Pete left yesterday though, gone back to England, maybe she went with him. What’s this all about?”
The detectives informed the travellers of a few of the German woman’s antics and her excellent skills at coning money and lifting wallets. She’d relieved more than fifty thousand dollars in the last year from some very distressed and embarrassed husbands. At least that was all that had been reported so far anyway, of course the police knew that some would have not owned up about being fleeced and having their wives find out, but this smart and sexy girl usually targeted married business men, she’d get there confidence, have sex with them, steal their wallets and disappear. She was stealing over a grand a week, and then at a backpackers in North Queensland she assaulted the girlfriend of one of her victims. She had several aliases and illegal passports, and she was considered dangerous if she was desperate and cornered. The tourists shrugged their shoulders at the police and returned to the BBQ.
The city lights twinkled through the window as the bus driver shook her shoulder.
“Wake up love”
“Wo ist der Bus? Claudia squinted and recoiled from the driver until she realized where she was.
“We’re here love, Sydney; you got to get off”
The rose always dies when it’s picked.
Rick was not a particularly sociable person anymore. The polish was gone from his life. But death does that, no one knows when it will hit you and suddenly it hit. Carol was killed when a boat broke from its tow vehicle and speared across the bitumen as she walked from a road side rest area towards her Landcruiser and caravan. She didn’t even see it coming; she still had a handful of picked flowers and no look of shock on her face. She would have felt nothing the cops told him.
Rick was not with her at the time and he cursed himself for not being there, she’d still be alive he kept saying to his friends.
“I would never have let her stop so close to the highway like that; she should have taken the van into the car park”
Dallas hugged him and told him to stop blaming himself, but he was crushed. He left the funeral in Carol’s Landcruiser and headed towards who knows where. He told them he’d keep in touch. He tried to phone Imogen but she didn’t answer. It’d been months since he’d spoken to her and a year since he’d seen her. He remembered the first time Imogen met Carol; it was a strange situation at first but it turned into a wonderful few days. He thought fondly about how the two peeled off and went out for the day and when Carol came back she was different, like she’d crammed a years worth of dominance training into eight hours. He cried and pulled over to the side of the road as the memories overcame him.
A basic camp setup on Fraser Island was to be his place for the next few weeks. He had food, piles of alcohol and nothing but his own company and memories. He spoke with the two rangers who checked on campers and they gave him a 14 day permit and chatted about a few things in general but the young female ranger sensed something wrong. Sonja the National Parks Ranger had this thing should could do, she never could explain it. She didn’t believe in mystics or silly nonsense, but she was sure she could feel pain when someone else was hurting near her and she felt it in this young man as he handed her money, she grabbed his arm above the elbow before she left.
“Are you okay”?
“Yeah, I’m okay, just need a break”
Evil thoughts ran through his head about his life and the crap that had peppered the good, he haded taken a sober breath for two days when he took some of the pills Dallas had given him. His only intention was to get some sleep, nothing more.
“Only take one at a time, and for fuck sake don’t drink grog when you take any or so help me Chicken Nuts I’ll kick your arse blue” That was the last words Dallas said to him, he remember them as he felt tingly and light headed.
The young ranger had made a point of driving close to his camp everyday, she had a feeling about him and when she spotted him face up on the sand near his tent she knew her sixth sense had not let her down. She smelt alcohol and he had a pulse but she couldn’t wake him, and after a good 10 minutes of trying to get him to wake up or get some sign of sense out of him, she called the police. The rescue helicopter was on the way.
The police found no license or ID, the vehicle was still registered to Carol Williams and before they could get an answer back from that enquiry they found a birthday card in an envelope, addressed to Rick the Wandering Hun, care of the Mount Isa Post Office. There was a simple “Love Imogen” and a phone number on the card. The Police officer radioed the phone number to dispatch and Imogen answered on the second ring, she’d had a sleepless night, she worried about Rick and was unable to make it to the funeral, she had been ringing around trying to find him.
It was late afternoon by the time Imogen got to the hospital and the conversation with the young nurse was starting to tax her patience.
“No, I’m not his next of kin, I told you that. I suggest you ring this number, he’s the policeman who was involved”.
Imogen passed the card over with her passport as identity. The young nurse looked at the passport photo and the name.
“You’re Jani” and before the fresh faced first year nurse could even try and construct the name Imogen spoke over the top of her.
“Just call me Imogen, you’ll never pronounce it. You ring the number on the card, that’s the policeman who’s been in touch with Rick’s parents, I have this fax from his mother to authorise me to make decisions on behalf of his next of kin”
Imogen handed her the crumpled fax and the young girl looked bewildered.
“Um, let me get Sister”
Imogen clicked her tongue at the silliness of this girl and fiddled in her purse looking for her chewing gum. She’d struggled with her nerves since she gave up smoking and this was not helping.
Jannicke Kjærgaard’s life changed after she’d met Rick. She was never one to be superstitious or worry about a religious intervention, but she occasionally did think about it. She did believe in a God. But what was God, she knew it was nothing to do with what the masses believed, the God of any particular religion of the day that is, but maybe there was something out there she thought. She’d fallen in love with Rick in the space of a few short hours together, love at first sight, she believed in it, but she’ll still deny it if you ask her.
In the week following Rick’s departure she was fragile and difficult to be around, especially after he’d rung - telling her he’d met back up with Carol and everything looked like it was going to work out for them. She sat back and cried. She needed a distraction she said out loud. She looked at the mascara running down her cheeks in the bar-mirror as she filled a scotch tumbler with vodka; she smirked at her reflection, savouring the look of genuine sadness in her face, something she’d become so used to blocking from the world. There was a knock at her door as she sat staring at the wall, contemplating why she’d missed out on love yet again. A young pixie faced police woman gave a credible performance of empathy while giving her the news that her father had passed. Her distraction was given to her.
Imogen went back to Denmark for the funeral. The long hours stuck in a plane seat without cigarettes gave her ample time to reflect on her life. The plans of the shy twenty two year old hair stylist from Denmark that walked around Sydney like a lost child on her first day abroad were long gone. She was a totally different person. Hardened to survive a life without a safety net, she was so close to ending up like the young homeless that knotted together in the park next to the brothel on Saturday nights. But someone gave her a hand up, someone looked after her; there was a price to pay in return, but there always is.
She had no love for her father, the truth was she neither hated nor loved him; they were too far apart in age to have any common ground for a relationship when she was young and they locked horns on too many occasions to make for a comfortable surrounding. With no mother or siblings the young Jannicke had spent her youth cooking, cleaning and looking after her father. A man of serious religious convictions and strict discipline he’d force her to read the bible and pray. But as she got older and spent less time looking after him and more time searching for a life of her own the house erupted in constant chaos and arguments. The point came where he drove her out of the house insisting that if she could not look after him while he feed and clothed her then and least she could go and stand on her own two feet and make something of herself. She was grateful for his cruelty in a way. But she regretted that fact that she’d not spoken to him in seven years, she would have liked to have had a conversation with him before he died, but alas, it was not to be. She was grateful however that the old bugger had left her everything, it wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough.
There were no death rituals or mingling of the relatives, just some formal paperwork and a renewal of her Visa. The most pressure she felt was having to speak Danish after seven years of being emersed in English and Australian slang, it was especially difficult for her to respond to her birth name. She’d taken the name Imogen from Shakespeare's play Cymbeline, something frivolous she loved as a child, and when Australians had trouble with the pronunciation of her real name, Imogen was an easy alternative.
Once back in Australia she bought out the owner of the brothel and the building that housed it. It took all her inheritance and savings and a small loan to do so but she was happy to be a real estate owner at long last, and the property was a very valuable future asset. The brothel was very profitable once she cleaned out the deadwood and no longer had to pay percentages and rent and she also had no need to personally see clients. She employed a few ladies to help with the growing trade for Femdom and although she still had a few loyal slaves that would service her fetish from time to time, she kept them at arms length. And as hard as she tried to stop it, she never let Rick stray too far from her thoughts.
Bright lights entered his conscious thoughts and he heard a soft female voice.
“Baby, you’re awake!” Imogen held his hand squeezed tight and she beamed her relief as he focused on her.
“Oh fuck; I’ve woken up, bummer” he gave a faint smile.
“You crazy boy, what! - were you thinking”
Rick looked at the woman squeezing his hand, he knew he was in hospital, but he thought she was a nurse for a second. He didn’t recognize the face, and then he saw the eyes, those chocolate coloured eyes twinkled at him as a tear ran down her cheek.
“Imogen?” Rick blinked a few times at her. “How long have I been here?”
“Only over night. Oh it’s so good to see you’re okay” She learned forward and kissed his forehead.
“How are you feeling?”
“Okay, my back is sore. I guess there’s one up side to this, I’ve slept of any hangover”
‘I mean! Are you okay in your mind Ricky, not your body?
“Yeah, I’ll be okay; I can’t cry anymore at the moment, I’m all done”
He propped himself up and looked at his surroundings.
The following year on Australia Day Jannicke Kjærgaard officially became Imogen Jones and an Australian citizen when she married Rick in a brief ceremony in a park overlooking Sydney Harbour. Only a handful of people attended, done by a celebrant it was not a side show, not religious, just a few well chosen words about love and trust. Rick invited his parents at Imogen’s insistence; she convinced him that he had actually been cruel in ignoring them all these years. A child’s view of the world was nothing like an adults she told him, heal with your family, don’t do what I did Ricky, don’t leave it until it’s too late.
After eight years away he was shocked at how badly his father had aged in that time. A once strong tall man with a straight back he was bent and sallow after suffering a bad flu. His mother’s hair was grey and her hands hard and wrinkled from years of hard farm work. The meeting was very emotional but he was glad they came, he did not hate them like he once thought, it was just fear of not having his own identity that drove him away in the first place.
His parents never raised an eyebrow about his situation when they met after all those years. It was never spoken of. They’d told their friends back at home that Rick’s wife to be had a business in Sydney and left it at that. Imogen had told them from the very first phone call. It was the night she rang them to tell them Rick was in hospital. She was never one to mince words and after she told them she owned and ran a brothel in Sydney she said if that was a problem - then they’d have to deal with it. She said she loved their son and intended to help him mend after Carol’s death.
As usual they never said anything about the obvious when they met before the wedding. His father asked him if he was happy and then spent a good few hours looking at the new Mercedes Imogen had bought Rick as wedding present. Ricks mother told him all about Bridgette; how she was due to marry her sister in-law Elyse’s cousin, but ran off the day before the wedding to join Greenpeace in Alaska. Rick laughed loudly at that news and was glad that Bridgette escaped in search of her own identity as well.
After the hoopla had died down and life resumed to what could best be described as normal for them, the brothel was still the centre of their world. Imogen expanded to encompass the entire building she’d bought and she renovated it thoroughly with theme rooms and even a proper dungeon for the fetish minded.
A new era was looming and Imogen caught the wave, computers and mobile phones, instant contacts and gratification, credit cards replaced cash as the prostitution laws changed. Crime families, biker gangs and corrupt police no longer had a strangle hold over the industry and no longer used illegal brothels to launder money and sell drugs.
The old style strung-out street hooker moved aside to make way for the legal sex worker. Plenty of young smart drug free ladies were no longer frightened to earn good money. Intelligent uni students, single mothers, models and even a few bit part actresses all came inside for the protection of the legitimate sex trade businesses.
Imogen kept her place meticulously clean and above bored. She had developed a good working relationship with the local Police and tolerated no drugs, got a license to sell alcohol on the premises and employed trained security staff. She paid her taxes, got insurance and her reputation as the cities cleanest knock shop was well established.
Rick became a driver for out calls, he didn’t have to, but he liked driving the Mercedes and it was simple work. Life ticked along very happily for a while. The business was busy, the money was flowing, their time together was plentiful and their sex life was way above ordinary. Who could complain? They went of a few overseas trips, upgraded the beach side apartment to a harbour side mansion and were pretty well positioned to enjoy themselves.
They were holidaying at Hamilton Island on the Great Barrier Reef when an incredibly attractive young woman walk in and sat in the reception area of Erotic Dreams. It was fortunate that Kirsten was still there. The young German girl who met Rick all those year before was now married to an Australian and she was very happy and comfortable as the Manager of the brothel. She took her job very seriously and as this pretty girl’s English was poor Kirsten gave up and spoke in German.
Her personality bubbled and Kirsten took an instant liking to her. She seemed very enthusiastic and her knowledge of the industry showed she wasn’t a novice. She gave Kirsten a couple of names in Germany of bordello’s she worked and night clubs she’d danced and striped at and Kirsten stapled the page to the file and closed it over.
“Claudia, you understand that we are drug free, no pot, no pills, you’ll be sacked on the spot. There’s a monthly medical check, paid for by the business, there’s a massive costume and cloths wardrobe here but your grooming is at your own expense.”
“It’s no problem, I don’t take drugs, they fuck with my sex life, and I like to fuck so much I’d nearly do it for nothing”
Kirsten raised her eye brows at the bluntness of her remark, but found it refreshing.
“Do you have anything special to bring to us here Claudia?” Kirsten sat back and watched the face of the young woman.
“I’ll do just about anything for the right money, except getting hurt; I don’t want to be slapped around”
“That goes without saying, there’s no violence tolerated, physically or verbally towards any staff, we offer a Femdom service to male and female clients, but that’s it”
“That’s good, I’ll do kinky, I can be the Mistress, I’ve done that before, I’ve done bi and I’ll do anal and golden showers, as long as the money is there”.
Claudia was about 5 foot 8 tall; olive skinned with thick long blond hair almost the colour of white gold. Her body was considered a perfect example of the female form, everything proportioned and free from blemishes. Her face was accentuated with high cheeks and full lips that showed a cheeky smile.
It didn’t take long before the high flyers got a sniff of the Golden haired German goddess; the word spread quickly about her love of kinky fun and in the era of discovering the pleasures of Femdom she was fully booked. When she moved from the confines of the dungeon to exclusive outcalls she did anything for the right fee, from corporal punishment and strapon play to bi scenes and golden showers. The wealthy business men, politicians and media personalities had no trouble parting with generous gifts as well as money. Some of the other girls were pissed off, the German fucking machine as they’d call her behind her back was taking all the regular high spenders and they were relegated to the rooms and sitting and waiting at the bar again.
Imogen was happy with the money coming in, but nervous about the attention, especially as one very well known celebrity had taken a shine to Claudia after he’d heard about her BDSM antics, it was usually a recipe for disaster if the famous or political got involved, someone somewhere would spot them, one photo of a politician in drag in the company of one of her girls and the shit would splatter. And worse still for Imogen was the fact that Rick seemed to be a little smitten with Claudia. For the first time Imogen felt threatened by another woman.
Rick had almost stopped talking about Carol. It had been more than four years now and although he was still teary on the odd occasion he was never down or morbid. He was the life of the parties and BBQ’s they’d have, witty and charming he had the ladies eating from his hand and he made friends with other men just as easily, straight, gay or in between he was equally at home talking about giving foot massages as he was talking about sport. What he didn’t know about or understand he had a knack of following along to anyway. Long ago Rick figured out that if he didn’t know something about the conversation at hand, the best way to be involved was to ask questions. It made the person talking feel important, it made him fit in, it made everyone happy. And he wanted happy, Rick liked life to be up and smiling.
But, domestic bliss or not, Imogen was getting more suspicious about Claudia and Rick and his interest in teaching her English. But she kept it hidden, she didn’t want to show any miss placed trust in Ricky, he’d never let her down and their relationship was way beyond what she thought could be possible. A mixture of severe kink and vanilla blended perfectly. He was still the same cheeky boy and she still enjoyed the same power, they still played in the dungeon from time to time and he still had the ability to make her quiver. She had no plans on giving him up.
Imogen sat in the bath and sipped a hot coffee with a dash of bourbon - looked at her watch and growled at the late hour as the sound of thunder shook the windows of the house. Trustworthy drivers where impossible to get, drug dealing was a massive problem amongst them, the two went hand in hand. The cops left her alone if she kept to her side of the agreement. No drugs. Rick never took any drugs in his whole life, he didn’t even smoke cigarettes, he just sipped his beer and she was happy about that. Her mind went over a plan to find a new driver, it was time to have Ricky back at her side, and he was in company Claudia’s way too often now. Maybe a tough karate kicking bull dyke, she laughed to herself at the contrast of it all and pick up the phone to check-in at the brothel.
The storm had the power out and all the intersections in the city were eerie and dark, Rick strained to make out the white line as the rain spat hard at the windscreen of the Mercedes. Claudia was nervous and begged him to pull over; her German flowed fast about her terror of driving in storms.
“Its okay, your place is just around the corner”.
He had to think in German again just to answer her and lost a little concentration on the road, a car closed on the left and almost hit. Rick braked hard and swerved, hearts were still racing as he pulled into the carport of Claudia’s apartment. The interior light showed the fear in her eyes and she clutched his arm and dragged him towards her.
“Come with me please, there’s no lights on” The young women’s wet silk top looked ruined and a breast was exposed. Rick looked and sighed, turned off the interior light and undid his seatbelt
“You have to stop speaking German, use English”
He held his leather coat over her head to protect the five hundred dollar dress owed by the business, but it didn’t matter now, it was already soaked from her run to the car in the pouring rain when he’d picked her up, they made a dash the front door.
“Where are the candles?”
She lit a dozen tea candles that adorned the top of a TV set and dropped the shoulder straps of her dress; within a few short moves she was naked.
“I have to go Claudia, just go to bed; it’s four in the morning”
“Please Ricky, don’t go, please, stay with me, I’m so scared of storms”
He looked at her as lightening lit the room and a clap of thunder shook the building, she screamed and jumped at him, her arms wrapped around his body she held tight as her soft breast pressed against his cotton shirt.
Her beauty was an enormous turn on. She was the most stunning woman he’d ever known and although external beauty was not a pre-requisite for him to be interested - her warm flesh and perfume in his nostrils made his cock stiffen before he could pull away.
“Oh Rick, at least your cock wants to stay and protect me from the storm”
Claudia giggled and her hand went down and massaged his groin, she kissed him and pulled at his shoulders, dragging him to the soft thick carpet. She had an experienced right hand and before he could protest she had his cock free and her warm hand was stroking him. He breathed deep and pushed her off but it only succeeded in her quickly moving her mouth to his cock, she licked and sucked and swirled her tongue.
“This is wrong; I promised Imogen I wouldn’t cheat on her”
“Shut the fuck up and tongue me, I know you’re a pansy boy - do as you’re told”
She swung around and her bottom came down hard on his face. He did his best to bring her off as quickly as possible and get out of there. He knew what to do, which buttons the push and had her juices running over his chin and her insides fluttering as his tongue did its job. It wasn’t enough for her though and she moved quickly, lowering herself onto him, he didn’t protest, he knew he should, but something stopped him. He cringed with a tinge of self loathing as she bounced up and down on his cock trying to extract more orgasms for herself. She warned him not to come before she did, she told him she’d send him home with whip marks on his body and his asshole stretched and bleeding if he didn’t cum in time with her.
He struggled to cope; the power this women had flowed from her body; her German language was strange and almost militaristic in demand.
“You are mine now, you will obey me and me alone. Any resistance to me will be futile”.
She fell on his chest and her wet hair covered his face as he thrust his hips in a hurry to get it over and done with. He felt her pussy tighten as she moaned his own orgasm struck him hard and fast and he couldn’t stop it. It rolled though his body and he arched his back and thrust his cock hard into her as he spurted. She moaned and squealed like a well rehearsed porn star and he flopped back had on the soft carpet.
“We should have used a condom”
It was all he could say to her as she pulled him up from the floor; she smiled and smacked his bum hard.
“I own you now, go and tell your Imogen that, she has lost you to me, but I will give you some time to do that. Not too long.”
The light in the hall brightened her room and Imogen looked at the bedside clock and smelt a rat, Rick eased in beside her and she could smell the other women’s perfume on him. It was incredibly strong. Her anger was black, but she’d wait until daylight, wait until she was calm again, no sense in going ballistic and scaring him straight back to her at five in the morning.
Everyone at the brothel knew Rick was submissive. The scuttlebutt was that he not off limits if one of the girls wanted to play with him, it had to be with Imogen’s consent though. They’d giggle about the legendary stories about his staying power and ten inch cock. Some said they heard he could fuck for two hours without a break, give orgasm after orgasm. All this was chat amongst the girls when they had little better to do, especially the younger ones. But none actually ever asked to use him, and none except for Tina who was long gone had ever fucked Rick or even seen this cock. As it turned out the whole situation that the girls gossiped about was just that, gossip.
Something’s got to give.
He woke the way a child emerges after its first swim underwater, gasping for air. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to push the bad dream from his brain. He still could not understand why it’d happened this way. It was a total mystery to him why Claudia would want him so badly, and it made him curious if there was something underneath her actions.
After they’d had sex Claudia broke down crying, telling him she loved him, that he was her soul mate. He was bewitched by her when they were together, he could not help but flirt and play games with her, but apart, he was nervous and edgy and not in the least bit thinking about sex with her, he’d never even had a fantasy about her, not to mention the sick and guilty feelings he had about cheating on Imogen. It was just on 8am but the weather was dark and cold, rain was still falling and Imogen was asleep, he lay back down and he took comfort in his memories. He concentrated in his Grandfather face, the fishing spot by the river and the colour of the landscape.
“Wake up! Why did you fuck her, couldn’t you control yourself, this is going to cost you” Imogen shook his shoulder. He woke and saw her face, broke down and cried, telling Imogen what happened and begging her forgiveness.
“Don’t be angry with yourself Ricky, be angry with her, and me, I should have seen this coming, she’s fucking hard to resist, I’ve seen these women before, I was once like her, remember. I don’t really blame you Ricky – you’re an idiot when it comes to this, you always were. You fell in love with me when you were still in love with Carol, no, I blame that evil shit that jumped on you”
Rick had a special quality about him, Carol called it an aurora, Imogen called it sex appeal. He was very good looking, but not the best looking around; he had a good body but not a fantastic body, he was a competent and caring lover, but not the stuff of legends. He was a good submissive, but not a grovelling slave. He stood up for himself when he needed to most of the time and that’s what Imogen loved about him. The harder he was to tame, the more of a kick she got from it. But, he’d broken his promise to Imogen and he could not take it back.
Two days after they’d fucked on her lounge room floor Claudia rang him, told him she just wanted to talk. Nothing more, sort a few things out, she told him not to tell anyone, but he did, he told Imogen he was going there to tell her there would never be anything further and that she was sacked from the brothel. Imogen wanted to do it or at least go with him, but Rick said no, he’d got himself into it, he’d get himself out.
Claudia opened the door and dragged hard at his arm, pulling him inside. She was totally naked except for a 12 inch dildo the thickness of a beer can that hung from the harness around her hips. She slammed the heavy timber door, locking it and taking the key with her. She pulled at his hair and marched him to the bedroom. He verbally protested but not physically, he should have, but to this day he still does not know why he just didn’t give her a tap on the face, take the key and go home. He stammered some shocked words and she growled for his obedience.
“Get your pants off and your ass in the air you worthless shit, I told you that you where mine, why have you disobeyed me.”
He broke from her grip and turned to walk away and she grabbed his hair again and spun him around, she shoved her knee hard into his groin and he folded onto the bed coiled and gasping for air. She drove a knee in to his back, causing him to roll away from her and he was propped arse up and winded, she yanked hard on his hair and pulled his head back.
“Give me your arms, behind your back, now”
Dazed and short of breath he struggled little as she clamped handcuffs tight against his flesh, and before he regained his breath and senses she had ropes tied across his body, all were setup and in place for this deed, she’d planed it well. Within no more than 30 seconds he could not move, despite having his strength back.
“That’s better, now you get what I promised you for disobeying me”
“Don’t do this Claudia, please! It won’t make any difference, you can’t -
“Shut up you slut!” Claudia shoved a ball gag into his mouth and started cutting his cloths off with a pair of scissors.
Her voice softened as she caressed his thigh “Don’t move Ricky, I don’t want to hurt you for real. I know you love having your Mistress fuck your ass, the others told me, and now that I’m your Mistress, I thought I’d introduce you to my big cock”
It was then that he realised she was delusional and he was very scared of the real consequences of what might happen if he provoked her. He succumbed, hoping that the snarling angry Claudia that kneed his balls would not surface while he was defenceless.
Her hands were on his pants, pulling and cutting and tearing, within no time his rump was exposed, her hand forced his clench cheeks apart and he felt the cool lube. At least she’s not going to dry fuck me he thought as stinging pain hit his anus. She forced the fat dildo in, gently at first, letting him get used to its size, he knew he had to relax or it’d would only be worse but she kept mumbling to him in a guttural Swiss dialect he didn’t know and it scared him. Then she started pumping, hard and fast. He yelped against the gag and saliva ran freely. She crouched over the top of his body and punished his anus severely with hard, fast and deep strokes, never letting up for a second.
“You can stay there until I cum you worthless prick, this will teach you to disobey me, next time you’ll think about it won’t you, next time you’ll think twice. You’re mine, you know that” Claudia grunted as she fucked him. And she masturbated herself to at least two orgasms before she left him up.
Every step he took back to the car hurt, it hurt to sit and it hurt to not sit, he’d been fucked in the ass with dildos and butt plugs, fruits and vegetables, fingers and fists, but nothing like this.
Claudia only let him free when he promised her that he was now her slave. She gave him a list of instructions; submit to her unconditionally as her new slave, he had to divorce Imogen and secure the rights to the Brothel, take it from her anyway you can Claudia told him, I want it.
It was all written down in German in a nondescript envelope Claudia gave Rick after she untied him. He resited the temptation to punch her face when he was let free. He had the good sense to know she was dangerous and he best get the fuck out of there with causing any more ripples.
Kirsten translated it in for Imogen. There were other demands and Imogen screwed up her face as Kirsten read them. She bathed Rick’s torn and swollen anus and told him it was a nasty lesson learned for following his cock instead of his brain.
The Brothel was raided by the drug squad; they found cocaine and amphetamines. Imogen and Kirsten had been arrested. The girls all swore to the cops that the drugs were a plant by a disgruntled employee, but the damage was done. They all new it was Claudia, when Imogen sacked her for raping Rick she went crazy, vowed revenge. But Imogen had heard this sort of tantrum before. She put on extra security but nothing happened and it went quiet after a few months. That is until a blackmailed forty eight year old farmer spent half an hour there one day and stashed the drugs inside an air-conditioning vent when the girl went to get him a drink of water. It took two months and Imogen spent twenty thousand dollars on legal fees to stop the rot. Luckily for her, the drug cop who was in charge of the raid did his job properly and the finger prints on the drugs could not be matched with anyone who worked at or was connected with the brothel. Imogen broke a rule and had the police interview the clients that had been in the room where they found the drugs, she wanted it sorted out quickly, she didn’t care what shit they might have got into with there wives. There were always more men out there. But sadly the little farmer from far western New South Wales was no where to be found.
The case had many holes and was pushed into the too hard basket when a photo match of Claudia surfaced from the Fraud squad in two other states. But it was unfair; no one was going to give Imogen back the twenty thousand. Or mend the rift with some of her clients, or get back the lost revenue while she was closed.
Claudia had gone; the last anyone ever heard about her was she headed to Japan. She’d blackmailed a production manager from a large Japanese car maker while he was in Australia on business. Apparently there was a nice clear twenty minute colour video of him fucking her in the ass and coming on her face. She was never seen again.
But, the business suffered and staff left, she lost her alcohol license and the punters got a sniff that a few clients were exposed by the cops and her earnings dropped. She went to a full BDSM style setup, it was more time consuming, more expensive to run, got less cliental - but there were less hassles.
Rick blamed himself entirely for the whole incident and he lost the plot. He spent months milling about the house trying to recover from the ordeal. Imogen eventually gave him a choice, come back to work, be my assistant in the dungeon, or take off for a while and do something else, but she would not let him sit around drowning in beer and bourbon anymore.
It was painful for everyone when he loaded the now old but faithful Toyota of Carols with a few cloths and possessions. The car cost him more in legal fees to gain ownership of than it was worth but he’d never sell it. And every time he thought about that day in court with her rapist step father trying to get possession of her merge belongings he went white with anger.
Rick headed for Queensland to a coast area he liked, surf beaches, pubs and a holiday atmosphere. He rented a small house in a cheaper beach suburb and got a pre-arranged job as a bar manager thanks to Imogen’s contacts. He decided to steer clear of the female of the species for while.
Just let me have one wish.
Elizabeth Anne Palmer was thirty four years old, but she’d been called Liz since she was a kid. Born to a family of a father who worked as a mechanic and a mother who was a teacher’s aide made life in the far Western Sydney suburbs of the 1970’s nothing out of the ordinary. Her brother who was nine years older than her had left home to join the navy by the time she was seven so she drifted into her own world most of the time, making up imaginary friends and games. The cause for this was a series of Enid Blyton books she found in an old suitcase in the shed at the far end of the large back yard. On summer afternoons that year she’d retreat behind the shed and her fantasy world would come to life, she’d be the characters and had the narration memorized, acted out on her own she enjoyed her solo company. But, soon tied of the same games and growing up faster than she wanted to Liz searched the old suitcase for something a little more mature; she came across an erotic novel about a young governess in charge of teenage girls. The novel had lesbian and spanking themes and young Liz became obsessed with it. She soon worked out that what the girls did in the novel with their fingers was exceptionally pleasurable and her masturbation fantasies became solely charge with the images from that book.
As an adult Liz had eclectic tastes in life; she was superstition about the number 13, the colour green and she only ever slept with her feet facing the doorway. Her everyday side liked TV soap operas, crime shows and old romance movies, garage sales, rockabilly music, fish and chips on Friday nights and Bourbon with diet pepsi and crushed ice. She was intelligent with a sharp sense of humour, had a natural talent for gardening and crosswords and a house cleaning and body washing fetish. Her cooking was terrible but she could make a good pizza when she had the right ingredients and although only a handful of people knew it, her singing voice was well above average.
Liz had another side though, one which was well hidden and guarded like the crown jewels. Behind closed doors Liz was bisexual and still trying to come to terms with what that exactly meant to her. She liked lesbian porn movies with an emphasis on anal play and fisting and she masturbated at least once a day, especially if the feeling came over her when she was awkward or dangerous spot. She liked erotic literature and spanking stories and had a wanting fetish for hand spanking the bare bottoms of both sexes. She didn’t think she was overly dominant, nothing like the women she read about or saw in porn, although she wanted to be, but she had no desire for leather or costumes, but then again she had a uniform that gave her power in real life, so anything else was a let down.
There were some rudimentary attempts as a Dominant back then when she was sixteen and caught the son of the local Doctor stealing the milk money from the front steps of her parent’s house. They were in the same class at school and after she threatened him with exposure if he didn’t comply with her wishes she dragged him into the old shed, put him across her knee and proceeded to thrash his bare bottom the folded leather strap that held the old suitcase together. When she broke the frightened boys spirit and he started to cry and beg for mercy she exploded inside with strange and wonderful feelings. The spanking fantasy from the book she’d read was now a reality and she went through the last year of high school with a distinct edge of power to her attitude.
In the last month of school a police woman from the local small town came to recruit for a career in the force. The woman was cute and sexy in her blue uniform, charming and thoroughly eager to answer questions for the students. Young Liz instantly had her first girl crush. She desperately tried to befriend the police woman, almost to the point of stalking her for a few weeks. Then she found out her new crush was happily married with a few kids. Never the less Liz saw the opportunity to find someone just like her and signed up for the Police Force the day she turned eighteen.
Constable Palmer did the job by the numbers and showed discipline and strength, she was promoted on cue for her abilities and she loved the diversity of the job. She often thought that she wouldn’t change her life if she could do it all again, except for one thing, she wished she had the strength to handle a relationship. She pined over the fact that the personal side of it had a massive growing hole of neglect. But she could not bring herself to confront the reasons why.
She was fairly easy to get along with if she was treated well and her looks helped in the early part of her career as she was the spitting image of the actress from the first couple of terminator movies. She could very well have been her twin, the face, the build, right down to the dirty blond hair and angled jaw, but she grew to detested the similarity and the constant “I’ll be back” remarks. It got worse when she found out the younger officers had given her the nickname Terminatress. She went out of her way to change the look and wore no makeup and kept her hair short.
On the outside she was confident and controlled, intelligent and understanding, but behind her dark grey eyes she was far from being the roll model policewoman. Her demons lay dormant for the most part but occasionally they’d poke hot knives into her ribs and get her brain churning. She was utterly confused about her sexuality; always had been, she didn’t know what she was and she didn’t know what to make of it all. Relationships, sex, marriage – the whole thing was a nightmare to her and for the most part she buried it deep inside and lived her life without.
She had sex with the high school boy she spanked, he turned into her submissive, although there were no words for it then, and she had no understanding of what she was doing but the boy was more than eager to do what ever Liz said for his occasional reward of sex if she was in the right mood. She continued the spankings and experimented with him a little, but she turned him loose the day she left school and they went their separate ways. She had no emotions about it and had no trouble quickly forgetting him. For the next 10 years it was pretty much the same with the odd boyfriend that came along, nothing lasted more than a month or two.
As a matter of fact Liz didn’t particularly get sexually excited by the physical appearance of men and that sent alarm bells ringing in her head. She didn’t hate men or even think about it, she had many male friends over the years and she felt no different in her emotions about men then she did about women, so she was not going to resign herself to being a raving lesbian either. To her it was all about personality, no matter what the sex; she was attracted to the person not the container.
Then the one fulfilling relationship in her life started, but sadly it was on a slippery slope from the get-go. She pained over it for months, but she was so ready for it she didn’t stop it when it happen. Liz was in a small town on the mid coast of New South Wales, the Police station only had a few officers, serious trouble was rare and Liz enjoyed the job. Then a single attractive young police woman was transferred to her station and had trouble finding suitable rental accommodation, so after a few weeks of living at the local pub Liz invited her to share the house she had. It made sense all round, halved the expenses, share transport when the shifts were the same and it was not long before Liz and Angela become good friends - even though Liz was ranked above her in the force, at home the uniforms were off and they tried hard not to talk about work all the time.
Angela never showed any significant signs of sexual attraction towards Liz, but she was one of those people who liked to hug and touch, and she was free with he hands in conversations. She’d touch Liz’s arm when that sat opposite and chatted. But Liz dismissed this as just part of her personality, something that made her even more desirable to Liz. Then one sleepy Sunday afternoon as Liz was curled up in a lounge chair reading Angela walked naked from her bedroom to the bathroom – right in front of her. Liz’s attitude and intentions for this sexy young woman changed. Angela’s naked body was a delight to Liz’s eyes as her round plump breasts jiggled, her pink nipples seemed to be erect and … Liz’s eyes widened, Angela had almost no public hair, trimmed so short that it was more of a shadow than hair and Liz almost coughed at the sight. She had the old tingling feelings and fantasies about the same sex again.
If this was any sort of display on Angela’s part for a sexual flirt - Liz decided to test the young woman out further. But just what to do as yet she had not made a decision on until it was a week later and her day off. She was lying back and masturbating to a lesbian porno video and enjoying the delights of a young raven haired women with pieced nipples and shaved pubs when she orgasmed. Realizing how horny the sight of Angela’s almost hairless snatch caused Liz to grab the electric razor and she started to shave off her dark blonde pubs. She wasn’t particularly hairy but it was a difficult task and halfway through she almost gave it away. But the more she shaved off the more the sensual feeling built on her skin.
So now she was looking for a deliberate naked act in front of Angela’s eyes, but something not cheesy or obvious like walking in front of her, so she waited for the moment. Their work rosters where aligned not long after and as Liz showered the days dirt off she heard a noise. Liz always had the practise of leaving the bathroom door open to stop mould on the ceiling and the instant she realized that Angela was in the bathroom and looking through the cabinet she turned off the tapes and stepped past the shower curtain. She was directly visible by Angela; there was no avoiding contact. Liz’s stomach churned in nervous knots as she realized this was about as cheesy as she could have got in her approach but she stood motionless as Angela’s eyes flicked over her athletic body and hair free form, Liz shifted and stood still directly in front of her with her arms at her side, giving her a look of consent to view, looking into Angela’s eye’s for a dangerous length of time. The young woman blinked, had a final look up and down, swallowed and walked from the bathroom without saying a word.
Liz had built up intense feelings for Angela over that year but in her mind it was not a lesbian act; it was Angela’s personality that turned her on just as much as her sexy body and pretty face. And then there was the other, the thing that had lain dormant in Liz for so many years. Angela was naturally submissive and Liz felt power. Power she never abused, but power she also subtly used to manipulate situations. Liz doubted she could randomly repeat the act of being naked or showing Angela herself again so she waited. Both had shown their hand, anything further would have to be natural and not forced. She trusted her flatmate, but she was also frightened that any attempted awkward seduction could end in disaster.
The tension built between them over the next week, they acted the same, spoke the same, did their job the same, but they looked at each others eyes differently. And at the mildest hint of suggestion from Liz about getting a pizza and having a quite night with a movie the younger woman beamed her approval. After a pizza and a few drinks they flicked channels and found a foreign film, it started out as normal and then a scene turned lesbian, not pornographic, but it was simple, erotic and stimulating. Angela turned to Liz and looked at her, she moistened her lips and leaned over and kissed Liz on the mouth. Sensual kissing lasted for five minutes and Angela’s hands were on Liz’s body; the younger woman fell at her feet and kissed her toes. Angela looked up and begged.
“Please! Let me eat your pussy”
Liz’s body stiffened and her head went fuzzy, her pulse raced and her groin tingled as she fumbled at the top button on her jeans, but before she could get the zip down the younger woman had her hands to Liz’s groin dragging frantically at her cloths and just as frantically she lifted her legs and dove her face in. Liz’s first orgasm at the hands and mouth of another person happened within a few minutes and a new world had begun.
Stealth and behind closed doors Liz and Angela had lusty sensual sex for the first week at every opportunity. As soon as they were home they tore at each other cloths and didn’t stop until several orgasms and exhaustion led them to look for food and sleep. But work was normal and no sign of any impropriety was shown as Liz made sure that Angela was assigned to duties that mostly kept the two of them apart during working hours.
Liz sat on Angela’s legs as she massaged her back with Rosemary oil. Moving down to her bottom she rubbed her fingertips between the cheeks and the young woman moaned and lifted her hips. Liz pushed her tongue at the puckered hole of her lover, licked and caressed and gave her an orgasm. She rolled over and Liz watch her breasts move as her breathing slowed, looking her lovers bright pink nipples against her milk white skin they looked like the pink eyes of a rabbit and Liz leaned across and gently bit.
“Oh God! Liz, I love that”
“Hmm, you like a bit of pain do you?”
“Yes. You can do anything you want to me”
“Really? How about I spank you sexy bottom red for you”
“Oh God yes. Please”
A new Mistress was born. Angela submitted. They were in love and lust and friendship and life was full of joy and games and a great big sexual blur. They fingered and licked and sucked and fisted and spanked and played dressed up. Cuffs and ropes and gags accompanied strap on dildos and vibrators, house hold appliances and hardware, everything and anything was on the menu for the two of them that year, and nothing got in the way. But it was never going to last, they all ready had a thousand conversations about it. They could not grow old together, be in the police force together, and be lovers together forever. It would never happen; promotions and station changes were inevitable. They had to consign themselves to the facts.
Angela started seeing her old boyfriend again. They never broke up for any other reason than distance, and when he moved to town in search of her, she new it was the only sane thing to do. And within 6 months Angela announced she was going to marry him, she had to, the life of the ordinary had to continue, her way of life was set in concrete and there was no getting out of it what would occur. The two women did love each other, but they had to admit there was already a sniff in the air about them. And if they got caught out, a senior officer with a junior, their world would turn into shit.
The facts didn’t help, logic didn’t help and Liz was confused and lost, close to an emotional basket case as the affair stopped and the wedding neared; but she set her brain to get used to the parting long before it happened and she applied for a transfer to another state as soon as the wedding was over.
The move was a welcome relief. She had much to learn and she dove in head first, back to the academy, back to learn new laws. This ensured she’d never cross paths with Angela again, never see her across the room at a conference, never see her at an outing, never be accidentally posted to the same station again. Liz was now a Queensland Police Officer, she was one rank down on what she was before, but she had a new life and she was now comfortable about leaving the past behind.
The sound of the garage truck jarred him from his dream, but he was pleased, it was just another dream about her, and he was a total prisoner of his own fantasy, his mind had built up and entire story that he’d wish would happen in his life. He lay awake at night and wrote the book in his head, sex, marriage, children, the home, the happiness, he wanted it all – he wanted a vanilla life. He blocked out his past as much as he could. He kept his photos of Carol and he spoke with Imogen two to three times a week and he’d head to Sydney every once in a while; he still loved Imogen, he always would, they were still married, still happy for the occasional meeting. But the gloss had gone. It would never be the same as what it was before Claudia came to town. Imogen had given him permission to take a lover if he needed to. Just don’t fall in love she told him. “Remember Ricky, just sex, not love”
Of course he did though, but he couldn’t tell Imogen that. He hadn’t seen Imogen for ages, and he’d rung her the night before and spoke for two hours. She knew something was up and warned him again.
“Watch yourself, don’t fall in love Ricky, you are still mine you know, if I have to bail your balls out again I’ll have you working my dungeon as a slave cleaning the floor and I mean it this time”
He’d read somewhere about obsession and the crazy behaviour it brings on and he’d become a little worried about his own thinking; and although he prided himself on his mental control, he was actually a little cranky. He’d tried so hard to break the habit, the insane lusting he had for the women next door, but at least he was strong enough to keep himself in check whenever she was around.
He splashed his face with cold water, brushed his teeth and looked at the mirror. The start of the weekend and they’d pre planned fishing and gardening together. He stood naked at his bed, looked down his body and just as he contemplated some self relief he heard her kitchen window grate open against the worn out plastic rollers; his back stiffened and then _ as always _ his phone gave a couple of rings and stopped.
This was the signal, her summons. He dressed quickly and pushed his feet into sandshoes and like a good dutiful lapdog he sped towards the back door to find out what she wanted. He’d always had good manners and considered the instant attention he showed her was akin to manners, nothing more. He told himself she was normal, she was not dominant, she was just a normal everyday Australian woman and he never showed her any sign that he was any way in the least submissive. If anything, she showed herself to be a little submissive in his company.
A few weeks after this woman moved into the duplex next door, he was awkwardly trying to trim the branches from a wayward cotton tree between their places. He’d noticed her go out and took the opportunity to do a rush job before she got back. He never wanted to know her, he was female free and a devout masturbationist and happy. Imogen gave him phone sex if he was desperate, and he’d leave the real sex until his meetings with her. He didn’t care about nor need sex, so therefore he didn’t need any other woman so therefore he would avoid contact at all cost. No more female friends he told himself.
He was nearly there, the tree branches that had been rubbing against the gutter of the house and keeping him awake were history, it was one of those jobs that he wanted to do but while the old neighbours where there he never did. The truck driving husband was a loud crazy drunk that glared at Rick with evil jealousy in his eyes, the 30 something good looking wife stared at Rick with gooey doll eyes and when she caught him in sight when her husband was at work she’d bail him up and chat at the fence for hours - inviting him in for coffee and niggling him to let her see inside his place - making excuses to be alone behind closed doors. He didn’t know if she was after him, he may have been down right paranoid, he may have had too many tickets on himself, but he was not going to become involved in their life. The two fought and spat at each other when they got drunk and he new it was a recipe for disaster if he showed her any slight interest.
As usual luck was to abandon Rick as the new neighbour arrived home just as the last tree branch dropped to the ground. She parked her car in the small front yard only a few feet from the end of where the braches fell, he was too close to escape her gaze and being half way up the ladder there was little he could do but make a few comical comments about tree trimming.
She got out of the car and slid her sunglass on top of her head, she had a bottle of Jack Daniels bourbon in her hand and Rick got off the ladder to introduce himself. He pushed his hand towards her.
“My names Rick by the way, Rick Jones to be full and correct” The women gave a quirky grin and took his hand and squeezed it firmly.
“Well Rick Jones, my name is Elizabeth Palmer, but everybody calls me Liz. Please to met you neighbour”
Her smile was genuine and friendly and Rick immediately noticed her grey eyes and smiled back.
It was a warm summer’s day and the trimmed branches made a nice hole to sit in the shade and catch the afternoon breeze, so when his new neighbour suggested a house warming drink together he could hardly refuse. He started to drag the cut-off branches around the side of the house and before he could protest she was right behind him dragging the biggest branch, she smiled at him and that was it, Rick felt the old twitch in his gut, he knew it, he sensed it on every occasion in his life when it came to the opposite sex. When he got that twitch; he knew he was in trouble.
They sat until dark and chatted, drank and got happy and loud. They ended up in his lounge room listening to music and ordering a pizza. Exchanging general stories and observations and when Rick found out she was a cop, he could not have been happier. Finally someone with a proper job he thought. But there was no sign of the man - woman thing. Rick felt comfortable with Liz, she was different. She had an edge that was running an unusual way, much like what Dallas had but without the swearing and chest puffing. At midnight, when they were both suitably drunk, Rick walked her under torch light back to her door. Liz ended the conversation with “Night mate” something he’d not expected. But he didn’t complain. This could be perfect for him. He loved women, and maybe this one he could actually be friends with, maybe he would not fall in love with this one.
Liz settled into the new station with ease. She was given the police beat at the local shopping mall and could not have been happier. The force wanted good looking people to show their brand off and she was defiantly that. She put on makeup, had an immaculate uniform and with the rank or Senior Constable she was finding the new job a breeze. Lost property lost children, the odd shop lifter or reported stolen car - that was about it. A far cry from the first 6 months as a new recruit, she’d been slid in as a patrol officer in the worst suburb in the city. But it was to be accepted, the same happened when she a brand new rookie back in Sydney.
She sat on the couch and sipped a drink as the six o’clock news hummed in the background. She took little notice. She was thinking about her new neighbour. A fresh new face and she immediately warmed to his submissive side. She had Rick’s profile worked out in their first hour of conversation and she quickly established her mental dominance over him. She was sure he had no idea; she was extremely subtle and well practiced at getting men under her control. But she liked him; he was kind and smart and had a wonderful air about him. And at no stage had he tried to make a pass at her and that was huge plus in her eyes. She hated speedy sexual gropes and especially she hated fast men.
He was interested, she could tell, the way her looked at her. He took quick sneaky looks at her groin and she new he looked at her butt when she walked away from him, especially when she had her shorts on. She bent over on purpose at the rubbish bin the other day and his voice faulted slightly as he spoke. She knew she had him if she wanted. He was good looking and she hadn’t had sex for ages, and she hadn’t had sex with a man for years. But sex was not necessarily what she was after right now. Sex would fuck up their budding friendship. He was the only man she ever met who treated her just the way she liked to be treated, and it was very comfortable for her. But this time she promised herself she’d not repeat the past, if anything is going to happen, it’s be slow and steady and only when I want it.
Over the next six months they became great friends. She made it absolutely clear to him about a week after they first met that she was not interested in having a sexual relationship with any one for a while. The comment was not necessarily aimed at Rick though, they’d had a bit to drink and she looked him in the eyes and explained that she’d come off a bad break-up, and if anything was ever going to happen with anyone else, it would take plenty of time to heal the old wounds. Rick said he understood, he said he was not looking either. That he’d had his share of troubles and joked to her about his hand being the only girlfriend he was interested in at the moment. She laughed and told him her hand was her best friend as well.
Everything was ticking along with a routine that was necessary but not boring. Liz enjoyed her job; still at the mall her roster was pretty much close to a Monday to Friday 40 hour week with the occasional shift. She smiled broadly the day she went to the local high school with a recruitment drive for kids looking to join the force. Rick’s job wasn’t too bad, he’d gone from night bar manager to the daytime session, looking after the lunch time catering, he liked that, his days were almost normal nine to five and suited him now. He’s spent his adult life working at any hour, so he enjoyed this.
Both talked to each other about there past but both also glossed over it. Never once was there a mention of his marriage, Imogen, Carol, anything bar a few casual remarks about his days as a roustabout and limo driver. Of course, Femdom, brothels, BDSM, spanking, dildos, not a peep, he was happy in a way. He loved the past and cried in the dark sometimes, he missed Carol, he missed Imogen, he thought about Claudia and her power. But this vanilla life was great. He was very happy to settle for it and very happy about the company. Liz told Rick plenty about her life, her family and parents, her brother who was high up in the navy, stories and the force and things she got up to. She told that she had problem break-up was another cop; the reason she left New South Wales and moved north … the only thing she didn’t tell him it was the other cop was women.
Liz had worked it so she had a week off for her birthday and Rick took her to lunch, nothing too special, just a small fuzzy moment in their friendship. He’d worked ten days straight and had the next seven off, so they were both winding down and looking forward to some rest. Planning some fishing and fun for the next day they went back home and got stuck into a few drinks and chatted late, getting the usual pizza delivery and parting sometime around midnight.
He got five hours sleep before his bladder forced him from his warm bed and he had to have a shower, stick his head under the cold water to relieve the effects from one too many beers. He swallowed some aspirin and took a walk down the beach, watching the sun peep through the clouds.
He sat on the cold sand as the tiny crabs scattered back to their holes. This was his quiet time and he did it often, a place to go and think. Memories from the past flooded that morning, people and places and he made a few mental notes. One was to ring his mother and check to see how things were after their move. They’d sold the farm; bought house in one of Melbourne’s many satellite suburbs and spent their days doing fuck knows what. He could never get out of his mother what they actually did these days. He needed to ring Shirley to check on her after missing Jacks funeral. He’d got a letter sent to Sydney and Imogen rang and told him that Jack had passed and he was a bit pissed off he’d got the news late. He’d have gone to Cairns if he’d known in time, caught up with Dallas and what was left of the old gang. But it was not to be. Things had change a great deal and he was now on the edge of something he was not in any control of. As each day passed he wondered if he was in the right place. He loved Liz, that was a given, she was nothing like Imogen, and nothing like Carol. It was a strange situation. Liz obviously liked him, or she would not be doing what she did. She never cock teased him, but that was okay, he had handle it well for most of the time, but could he survive a plutonic friendship with her forever, or was it bound to explode and turn nuts. Maybe it was time to fuck off back to Sydney.
Rick stirred his coffee with one hand and scratched his chin with the other as he yawned. He had no thoughts in particular as he looked up to see a cab in the driveway. There was a large picture window in his lounge with bushes in the front garden and he could view the street in stealth. It was on the corner in a horse-shoe shaped street and cars often turned around in his drive so he didn’t get to his feet. Then he saw the car door open, obviously his heart rate increased as he saw Imogen’s head rise up.
He blinked at her again and looked at the skin tight black leather pants that would have got her a camel toe award and her now large silicone breasts that stretched a tight white t-shirt, her baby doll blonde hair and high heals made her look like a million dollar porn start from LA.
“Ricky Baby, where are you?” she whistled and he opened the door.
“There you are! Hello my gorgeous little Ricky boy. Be a dear and pay the driver. And get my bags would you Hun, I’m fucked, well, maybe not, but I need to be” She smiled and his stomach churned as she learned forward and pulled him to her. She kissed his mouth and gave him a quick inspection with her tongue before pulling back.
“What are you doing here?”
“That’s a nice how-do-you-do to your wife! And you know why I’m here… that phone call the other night. You crying and blubbering about falling in love again, you’re fucking hopeless, I came to check you out and if you are being an idiot about this you’re coming back home with me. Ricky! The cab man is waiting, quickly now”
His shoulders slumped like a disappointed teenager and just like he’d always done Rick followed her instructions, paid the cabbie, put the bags on the bed and made her a coffee as she toileted and freshened her face.
“Now Ricky, tell me all that’s been happening in your dull little life in the back blocks, heavens this house is small and bland” She looked around the room and sat in the chair he always did and he winced at the encroachment in his peace.
“So when do I met this girl next door that you’ve done your nuts over”
“Please Imogen, don’t make a scene, we’re friends, she doesn’t know how I feel about her. Nothing about my past, she’s also a cop, so don’t start talking whores and business”
“Ricky, do I look like a person who is indiscreet?” She was a little pissed off with his lack of faith in her and her Danish accent showed itself, it always did when she got flustered or cranky, she’d worked hard to get rid of it, elocution lessons and speak therapy.
“I brought my cane Ricky, and you ARE going to get a fuck and a caning, it’s just the order that needs to be discussed, and I have my big blue toy and harness, so watch out”
“I’ve gone off it Imogen, really, I don’t think about any of that stuff anymore, I’ve even gone vanilla in my fantasies”
“How tiresome Ricky, not like you at all, and besides that, I want a fuck, and you need a caning, who said anything about you getting pleasure”
The phone gave two rings and stopped, interrupting Imogen. She looked at phone and then at Rick and he squirmed.
“That’s weird” she said, “Does that happen often?”
“The phone having a two ring orgasm”
“Come on Ricky, don’t fuck about”
“It’s her, Liz, next door, she gives me a couple of rings, as a signal, when she … um”
Imogen burst into laughter. “You bullshitting silly boy; vanilla, she has you wrapped around her clit and you don’t even get to fuck her, she must have some power over you Ricky”
“No Imogen, it’s not like that, true, it’s just easier this way”
“Forget it Rick, don’t kid yourself, she’s dominant and you know it, now I suppose you have to trot on over to her and find out what orders she has for you, go on, off you go, but hurry back, or I’ll be over there myself”
Liz took Imogen’s hand a shook gently, she stared at the tall beautiful mature blond and her groin tingled. She instantly wondered what her body looked like naked.
A few simple words followed as Rick brought in the coffees and they sat down and looked at each other.
“Ricky tells me you’re a policewoman - that must be interesting”
“It is. Never a dull moment – makes the day go fast that’s for sure”
A smile between the two highlighted the uneasiness of the meeting.
“So Ricky, how do you propose to entertain me while I’m here?” Imogen watched him squirm.
“Well, Liz and I were going to go to the beach, do bit of fishing after lunch, when the tide comes in, and-”
“Fishing, I’ve never been fishing - sounds like fun, can I sun bake in the nuddy”
“No, it’s a family beach” Rick was quick to tell her.
“I’m just teasing, lighten up my husband, you’ve lost your sense of humour all together”
“Husband!” Liz looked startled. She frowned at Rick and then looked to Imogen for more information. Rick gritted his teeth as Imogen smiled, obviously enjoying herself
“Didn’t he tell you Liz, just whom did he tell you I was then, his sister?”
“He didn’t. He just said come and meet Imogen; she’s going to be staying this week”
“Well, how insulting Ricky, you’re a bad boy, looks like you’ll go across my knee after all”
Liz giggled and went red, but not as red a Rick did. He looked like he’d fallen asleep in the sun. And he frowned at Imogen.
“Don’t, please Imogen, be quiet”
Liz liked Imogen, she felt at ease now, and she knew Rick was submissive; no one had to tell her. All the pieces fell into place about his behaviour and an idea of his past. She wasn’t shocked; she was relieved in a way.
“Behave Ricky, you know I brought my cane, your bottom will be striped if you insist in insulting me, and this is not like you”
“Imogen, for fuck sake, no” Rick looked at her and shook his head.
“Oh Ricky, come on and open your eyes, Liz is not a fool, she knows what’s going on in life. You know I’m not one to walk around on egg shells, I’m too old to play boring mind games, she knows your submissive – give her some credit, I’m not going to spend a week here living a lie, she’ll understand”
Rick looked at the black screen of the TV and went cold inside. Liz giggled and Imogen smiled at her and took her hand.
“He’s a bit thick sometimes Liz, like all men they can be dull in the thinking department, thank goodness us women know that and give them room”
Liz laughed. “It’s true Imogen, I have that at work, these young guys lust after me all day and they think that I don’t know, they call me the Terminatress behind my back, they think they’re clever and subtle, about as subtle as a couple of rhinos trying to fuck on a water bed.
Both woman burst into laugher and even Rick smiled. The tension was broken and it was now out in the open and Liz relaxed.
“So Imogen, how long have you been Ricks Mistress?”
“Oh fuck, I’m leaving” Rick couldn’t help the reply; it was like these two woman could read each others minds. He stood and walked to the fridge and got a beer, it was only ten in the morning – but he didn’t care, the day had just turned sour for him.
Over the course of the week it all spilled out, the life, the bad days and the good, the business and their backgrounds. Liz heard the lot. She soaked up the whole saga like a running soap on the TV.
She and Imogen become instant friends. They giggled and chatted and even pushed Rick away on the odd occasion they wanted some privacy, especially at the beach towards the end of Imogen’s trip.
Rick was fishing, the girls where at the base of the sand dunes under a big umbrella and sipping cold drinks. The walk to the beach was five minutes and they carted enough stuff down to be self sufficient for the day.
Bourbons loosened up Liz and she told Imogen about Angela, about her one and only illicit affair. It felt good to unburden her demons and no body in the world would understand her better than Imogen. They hugged and Imogen wiped the tears from Liz’s face.
Imogen’s visit was the best thing to happen to her to Liz in years, she helped her open her eyes up to the possibilities of what could happen if trust was real and tangible between two people. And on the last night of Imogen’s stay, with the windows opened on both houses as the still warm summer made it hard to sleep, Liz listen to them play, she heard flesh slapping and groaning, she heard Rick begging Imogen to fuck his arse, she wanted to shut the window but couldn’t, she wished she had the guts to call out to them, ask if she could join in, be instead she took off her cloths, lay back on her lounge and listened to Imogen fuck Ricks ass, she could hear it all, they were only ten feet away. Imogen was talking dirty to him and Rick was moaning. Liz moved her little dildo in and out as her fingers probed her hot flesh in all the right places. She rolled over and buried her face in the pillows as she climaxed.
Liz and Rick were closer now, as friends they had no need to hide their feelings. Liz knew how Rick felt about her, but even Imogen told him to keep his hands to himself without an invitation first. They didn’t say anything about it to each other, there was no need to. And eventually Liz nervously told him she was bisexuality, she could trust him and she was so relieved.
It’s fun to be a pervert.
A large summer thunderstorm was brewing and Liz wasn’t home; all her washing was on the line. He thought about ringing her, seeing if she was on the way, though he was reluctant, as she said “only emergencies” to call her at work, and it wasn’t really that dire. He could never count in her to come home at any set time, even though she was due.
So, he jumped the fence between yards and started taking the washing off, folding it and placing it neatly in the basket. The last items were her underpants, small briefs, all black and six pair. He snapped them off the line and tried not to think about it; about her and what it would be like to have his face get acquainted with her crotch.
Rick moved the basket underneath the back awning and his mind drifted back to the first time he’d gone down on Imogen, he genuinely loved giving oral. And he’d love to bury his face between Liz’s legs. He rolled a pair of Liz’s underpants in his fingers and put them to his nose, sniffing hard on the scent of her washing powder, he enjoyed that smell, it suited her. He leaned his butt against the table and pulled his cock out of the leg of his shorts, stroked and sniffed at the undies again.
“Ricky! What the fuck are you doing?”
“Oh shit, oh Jesus, I’m sorry, I don’t, um, ah-” He dropped her underpants into the basket and pushed his erection back in his shorts, but she was on him in a flash, spun him around and had his arm up his back. Rick felt the power of her Police training first hand.
“You idiot, have you gone fucking mad, what’s got into you”
He started blabbering like a schoolboy, nothing made sense to her and she eased off him and turned him around. No words exchanged as he looked at her grey eyes, they showed a twinkle of light as the thunderstorm rattle down around them. Heavy drops of rain dotted the concrete path and they turned there heads towards a huge clap of thunder.
“Pick up my washing you stupid fool”
All of a sudden he felt like a child and followed her as she undid the back door and stepped inside, the rain pelted down on the metal roof and a cold breeze replace the warm summer air.
She said nothing; just dragged his arm and pulled him into her bedroom, turned on the light and took the basket of washing and dropped it on the floor. She looked different in her uniform, he rarely saw her in it to be honest, she was quick to change when she got home and he would only occasionally spot her around the place while she was working. He didn’t particularly have a fetish for woman in uniforms, but he did love all sorts of costumes and she did look extremely dominant, his cock started to swell again.
“What am I am going to do about this?” She pushed him to sit on her bed, and then stood there, arms folder. “Well Ricky?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I was just getting your washing in and then, I don’t really remember, I just-”
“Oh what is this babbling bullshit, don’t try the ‘I don’t remember‘ crap on me, look at this uniform, I’m not a fuckwit. Do you know you could be charged for this, trespassing, public indecency, what the hells come over you? And this better be the first time sunshine, you better not tell me that this is a frequent thing, I know you’re into kinky shit, but it better not have been snooping and sniffing my undies and wanking in my yard”
“No, no, I’ve never done it before, fuck I’m so embarrassed” He stared at the floor.
“You know what this means Ricky, it’s all changed between us now, and you know that. Even though we know all about each other and it’s all out in the open, it still doesn’t mean that gives you the right to just do as you please. Fuck, even Imogen wouldn’t tolerate this”
“Yeah I know, I know, you don’t have to go ballistic on me Liz, I know I’ve fucked up, sorry”
“Jesus Rick, wanking and sniffing my underpants, what am I supposed to do, tell you to fuck off and not do it again”.
“I’m sorry, I, you know, um, I love you, you know that, I know you said friends, but I can’t help the way I feel about you, I’m sorry”
“So being in love with me is an excuse for being a sneaky shit, and what about Imogen, don’t you love her”
“Yeah, but I love you to, I can’t explain it, I think I can love more than one person at a time, I always”
“Shut up, stop it. You’re fucked do you know that, how can I trust you now?”
He looked at her face and saw her disappointment.
“What am I going to do Rick, I don’t want you out of my life, I like you too much, but I can’t punish you, if I spank you or anything like that, it’s only giving you want you want, isn’t it,. And I even know you like your arse fucked with a strapon so that’s no a punishment either”
Rick looked at her. “You have a strapon Liz?”
“I do, but you’re not getting that, that’s what you want”
The storm thundered and shook the house, the rain pelted down and they stayed motionless, one waiting for the other to say something.
“Imogen told me you didn’t like to be tied up, is that true?”
“Yes, I hate restraints; I was tied up once and got raped by a crazy bitch with a monster dido. It was not pleasant”
“Right then, you are about to have that all over again, if you don’t like it, too bad”
“No Liz, please, I had being tied up”
“Put your hands out”
Handcuffs clamped around his right wrist with speed and she dragged him up the bed and secured the other wrist to the bed frame.
“No Liz, please don’t, I really don’t want kinky stuff anymore”
“Are you joking, this is not for your pleasure, this is for your pain and humiliation for what you’ve done.
Liz picked up her mobile phone and started pushing buttons.
“Who are you calling now Liz, please, don’t tell anyone”
“Hi Imogen, Liz here, how are you?”
“Fuck, Liz, no, don’t tell Imogen, please, I beg you”
“Shut up Rick” Liz walked from the bedroom leaving him handcuffed. He tugged at the metal bracelets and they were real, not toy ones with a safety catch, he could not escape. Ten minutes went by before Liz returned.
“You’re fucked now Rick, Imogen is so pissed off with you it’s not funny”
“Why did you tell her?”
“To ask her permission and to find out what to do with you”
“This is fucking crazy Liz, please let me up”
“No. you’re going to be punished, Imogen’s told me what you don’t like, so that’s what you now get. You hate gages, you hate your arse being strapped hard with a belt, and you hate fisting, and that is what you are going to get”
“No, fuck no, please Liz, all I did was sniff you undies, I didn’t even get more than a few pulls on my cock, this is wrong, let me up”
“Seen as how you don’t like gags, and you like my panties so much, I think you’ll enjoy a mouth full of fresh ones”
He watched her as she quickly pushed her shoes off and then her blue police slacks.
“Don’t look at me, turn your head away, don’t you dare look, you keep your eyes forward” He looked at the bed frame as her hand dragged at his hair.
“Open” she stuffed her warm undies in his mouth.
He didn’t like restraints and he hated being gagged, apart from what Claudia did to him, he hated being without some control, he liked to have his hands free to give pleasure, and he grunted and rattled the cuffs.
“A struggler, well I know how to deal with a wayward prisoner”
His shorts and underpants where dragged down but he could not see what she was doing, then the bed moved and she sat on his legs, he felt the heat of her bottom as she pulled at his feet, tying each ankle to the metal bed frame.
Liz got off, grabbed his balls and gave a squeeze – groaning his displeasure he bucked and pulled at the restraints. She relaxed a little now he was secure and she dragged a chair over level with his face, sat down as he turned his head, she was naked from the waste down but he couldn’t see anything and just the mere thought of her sex a few feet from his face made his cock stiffen.
“So - now that you are at my mercy I’ll impart on you how I feel about this situation. Of course knowing that you are a total pervert and enjoy all sorts of kinky play makes it far easier on me. And although I’ve never fisted any ones arse before – I’m quite good at fisting a pussy, but Imogen’s given me a few tips”
Rick’s eyes bugged a little; he shook his head and grunted at her comment.
“Yeah, I have, and as silly as all this must seem, her only words were, don’t damage him permanently.”
Rick pulled on the cuffs and sighed, tried to spit out her underpants and roll his hips over. Liz’s eyes showed joy, she was horny now, the power pushed at her senses.
“Now, with Imogen’s permission, I’m your surrogate Mistress, I told you once to be careful for what you wished, for I am not like Imogen, I have a nasty cruel streak in me and now you will be totally under my control, you will do nothing without my permission and I will expect total obedience from you. Or so help me I’ll make your life truly fucking miserable. Nod if you understand. Good, now first things first, a decent flogging with my heavy belt will see to your disgusting behaviour this afternoon.”
She stood and he caught sight of her neatly trimmed dark blonde pubes for the first time, but this pleasant sight was short lived as she took an old belt from the wardrobe, it was huge and the leather was cracked. Rick recognised it as probably being an old police belt that had room for a cuff pouch and gun holster. He shook his head and groaned no.
The storm outside was at full strength and the power went out, the room was dark and the rain so heavy it sounded like sizzling steak on a BBQ. There was nothing Rick could do but ride it out, and without any warning Liz brought the belt down on his butt with incredible force. It stung instantly and he winched as she gave him no time to adjust to the pain. The volume of the storm made it impossible for him to hear what was going on, and he turned his head, trying to see where Liz was. Sharp stinging pain grew across his backside as she continued the onslaught of his bottom. And he struggled against the restraints and eventually spat out the panties and grunted.
“Mercy Liz, Please, stoooooop!!!!”
Her face was aglow and her lips cured at the corners as she looked at the welt marks on his bum. But she stopped.
“Lift your hips, quickly” She placed towel under him and wasted no time on any ceremony. She squeezed the tube of lubricate onto her finger and pushed in into his anus with ease. Of course this was great, one finger was wonderful and his cock stiffened again. Even the second finger was good, and the third, but as the forth one came into play his anus started to sting. She was gentle, slowly working in and out and pushing a little further each time.
“That’s a good boy Ricky, you like being fisted in the arse don’t you, Imogen said you didn’t but I can tell, you’re a hopeless pervert, I knew it all along, I didn’t need your wife to tell me, I knew it”
“Owe fuck!” Rick grunted and yelled as she balled her hand into a fist and pushed it past his sphincter. She twisted and pumped and she was incredibly horny. This was the most power she’d ever felt, better that anything she’d done with Angela.
“Oh fuck, Liz, God, it fucking hurts. Oh God, please, I’ve had enough, please, I beg you, take you hand out, please?”
And without even thinking she slid her free hand between his legs and wrapped her fingers around his flaccid cock. He lifted his hips to accommodate and pushed his butt up as far as the rope would let him.
Liz was in a bit of a sexual frenzy herself, it’s been so long since she’d done anything, and her insides were working against her brain. His cock grew hard in her hand, and the moans changed in his throat, she pushed a little further and her hand disappeared into his anus up the her wrist.
She continued slow and steady and maybe even a little awkward; the cuffs cut into his writes as he pushed his arse back towards her. Her breathing was hard and wayward and crazy stuff bounced in her head. Rick shuddered and groaned as she began to slowly pull her fist from his arse. He yelped in pain until her hand was out. He slumped forward, breathing hard as beads of sweat trickle on his face.
Without any words she quickly got off him and wiped her hands on his shorts, undid the ropes and cuffs and rolled him over. His erection slapped at his belly and she squatted over his body and guided his cock inside. They fucked like crazy, he droved himself deep into her and she fell forward and bit his neck, it was all over in a matter of minutes as an orgasm smashed through her body. She got off him and wrapped her hand around his cock and masturbated him to orgasm. It only took a dozen stroked and he spurted over her arm and shirt.
She looked at his face and he could see her embarrassment, she was lost for words. She mouthed sorry and looked like she was going to cry.
“Its okay Liz, that was fucking great, I loved it. Don’t worry, come here”
Liz looked guilty and shamed, he held out his hand.
“You know Liz; if there’s one thing I’ve leant it’s not to be at war with your own desires”
Liz lay down on the bed and he held her and kissed her cheek. She relaxed and nuzzled into him.
He rolled over and groped for the remote but couldn’t find it, the huge home cinema screen brightened the room with white light reflected from the rising moon, and it took him a while to realize that fact. He got to his feet and concentrated on not waking them. With all his thoughts focused on the one simple task he staggered one pace back and six forward, clutched the edge of the dinning table as his conscious thoughts rallied to keep him upright. He made it to the kitchen and turned on the light. Sucked down some cold water from the fridge and burped then made hast for the toilet.
The eye of his penis stung as urine forced past dried semen, but his bladder sighed with relief. But, I’m okay he said to himself, I’ll be alright, I know what’s going on, my arse is sore, my jaw is sore, my cock is sore, but my life could not be better.
He concentrated on the black and looked for the remote again, fingered the plastic control and winched at his lack of co-ordination, shutting of the sound system and projector he scratched the skin of his chest and a short stab of bile tickled his throat; two white naked bodies lay on a large futon amongst a sea of large black satin couch cushions. He stopped and considered his place in life, pulled at his cock and thought about how easily it could get him into trouble but couldn’t get him out of it, especially with these two women. He kneeled down as his eyes adjusted to the dark and he looked at the red and black devil tattoo that merged with her pussy, he licked his middle finger then ran it over the tattooed skin - she didn’t stir. He looked to his left at the other women who slept soundly, the silver ring though her pink left nipple sparkled as it caught the moon light. He flopped back down between them. He loved them both.
A faint snore from the back of Imogen’s throat triggered Liz to roll over and her arm draped across his chest. He was now in a dilemma, he had to get back up to turn off the kitchen light. THE END