Annabelle is a lady with an interesting lifestyle. She has sex with men, and women, who pay for the pleasure but she doesn't need the money. She has a dead husband who isn't dead. She has a close female friend with a mysterious background. She enjoys life to the fullest.


Annabelle was the only 'lady of ill repute' that William saw nowadays and their meetings were more infrequent than they used to be and more infrequent than he wanted. Nothing could be done to change that but, if anything, the eagerness and anticipation only made the thrill of seeing her more exciting and enjoyable. He had visited other ladies, both before and after his initial meetings with Anna, but had become disillusioned with their indifferent and bored attitude towards sex. Their only interest being getting as much money as possible for the poor service they provided.

Anna was different. She made him feel as if he was the only man in the world she was interested in. At least for the time they spent together. It didn't matter if it was true or false. He was happy and would settle for an hour of bliss with her anytime. The money was unimportant. He also realised any man, when they were with Anna, would feel they were the most important person in her life at that moment. It was nothing to do with what she did for a living, she was just that type of person. He hadn't seen anyone else for several years and he didn't want to. She notified him when she was going to be in his area, giving him sufficient time to make arrangements, so he had a bullet proof alibi ready. Occasionally, he was able to visit her at her home and today was one of those occasions.

"I've really missed seeing you," he said as he sat on the edge of the chair, removing his shoes and socks.

"Aww, thank you, William. That's very nice of you to say. I've missed seeing you. My regular clients always seem more like friends than clients. Even though it's a business deal doesn't mean you have to be strangers that pass in the night. Although many times that's the way it is and has got to be."

He gazed up at her, seeing a woman who looked, and dressed, like the attractive neighbour all the men in the street wanted to fuck. Particularly when, as now, she was wearing leopard skin stilettos with spiked five inch heels. The attractive lady who would be friendly with her female neighbours even though they knew what their husbands were thinking. Possibly a few of those women would be thinking the same, particularly if they knew she was bi-sexual.

He unbuttoned his shirt, removed the rest of his clothing, and stood feeling the fabric of her dress against his skin.

"I'm aware you're glad to see me," she said, taking hold of him and leading him to the bed. She sat next to him, their bodies touching, sensual even though separated by the fabric, and leaned in to give him a tender kiss that quickly became much more. Their tongues entwined, frantically making up for lost time, clasped in each other's arms, desperate to make love. They collapsed on the bed, her hand on his head, holding him to her, while he pulled up her dress, feeling for her sex.

"Let me get this dress off," she said, standing and turning so he could lower the zipper. She looked like every man's dream in her fuck-me shoes, black fully fashioned nylons with matching suspenders, burgundy panties and a matching bra that was struggling to contain her beautiful, soft and natural breasts. The dark red of her talons, glistening with sparkle, perfectly complemented her lingerie.

He pressed his nose to her neck, inhaling her scent and running his hands over her nylons, feeling the softness of her ass cheeks as his finger sought her sex.

"I want to taste you," said Anna. "Move up the bed, lie back, and let me get to work."

The warmth of her mouth felt so good as she took just his tip into her mouth, sucking and caressing it with her tongue, making him desperate for her to swallow him. She opened her lips and slid a couple of inches of him in her mouth, making his nerves tingle. She gradually moved further down until she had consumed almost all of him, and began to work in earnest, gently grazing him with her teeth as she increased the pace.

He began to thrust upwards into her mouth, wanting the feeling to stay, to become more. She held him down, remaining in control, taking him to the brink and then holding him back. Finally relenting, she slipped a condom on with expert hands and within seconds was astride him. He was up to his depth inside her. She squeezed him with her muscles at the same time as gently rocking back and forth. He relaxed, closed his eyes, enjoying the pleasure for which he had been waiting for months. The smooth warmth of her skin, even through the condom, was intoxicating.

He had a glove fetish. She knew that and knew he had been waiting. Underneath the pillow she had hidden silken opera gloves and, unseen by him, slid each of them over her hands, squeezing into the fingers, and pulling them up and over her elbows. The first he knew of it was when she touched his face. His eyes flew open and a smile appeared. Not a word was spoken. He took both her hands in his own, kissing the palm of each, and then letting his skin feel their texture again.

She slid her hands onto his neck, down his chest, coming to rest on his nipples. Twiddling his nipples between her fingers and then suddenly twisting them. Not enough to really hurt but enough to make him jump. She knew he enjoyed having his nipples squeezed and twisted, and could stand a lot more pain, but that wasn't her intent. The grin on his face told her everything she wanted to know and she desperately tried, and failed, to hold back her giggling. He joined her and it sounded like two young children caught doing something naughty.

Still keeping him inside her she rotated around him, leaning back with her hands on his thighs tantalisingly making him stretch to fondle her breasts. She moved forward without releasing him, taking his hands in her own and held them on the pillow above his head. Lowering herself towards him, lips ready to join with his own, she stopped just out of reach. He tried raising his head, seeking her lips but being held down could do little. She slid her tongue along his lips, before engulfing them with her own, pushing into his mouth for their tongues to join.

"I want to 69, please," he said. The first words spoken for several minutes because no words were necessary. Removing the condom, she settled her pussy close to his mouth and once again swallowed him. He reached under her legs, taking each cheek in his hands, pulling her down towards his mouth, delicately penetrating her folds. Anna was very sensitive in that area and it wasn't long before she began to respond. He could tell she had no intention of letting him come, she was going to keep him on the edge, and he was determined to do the same. Time seemed to slow as they pleased each other, feeling the warmth of one body spreading to the other.

Eventually she said, "I'm doing all the work here, you lazy devil. You're just laying on your back enjoying yourself."

"Behave yourself," said William. "You're enjoying yourself as well. Don't try and kid me."

In that instant it wasn't an escort and client having sex, it was two friends being intimate with each other.

"Come lie with me, please," he said, "I want to hold you in my arms for a while."

She removed her opera gloves and selected a pair in red leather that came just above her wrists.

"I bought these yesterday. You can break them in for me."

He took hold of her wrist and, with his other hand, felt the texture of the soft leather. Caressing her fingers and smoothing the leather on the back of her hand and palm.

"I think you made a good choice. They're having a pleasurable effect on me. That's for sure."

They lay, his arm around her shoulder, his hand stroking her silky blonde hair. Her arm was on his chest, her hand stroking his naturally hairless skin, before wandering lower to fondle him and bring him back to life.

"I think it's time I gave these the attention they deserve," he said, his free arm gently feeling her breast. "My lips have waited long enough."

His mouth engulfed her pale brown areola, sucking gently, taking it fully. His tongue caressed the nipple, making it protrude rigidly as he sucked it softly but firmly. All the while squeezing one breast and then the other. Knowing that prolonging pleasing a lady's breast can be uncomfortable for her, he moved to the other nipple, but never stopping squeezing and stroking. The feel of her breasts was wonderful. They were so soft and natural. They didn't need any artificial enhancement. They were perfect as they were.

"I want you on your back," he whispered in her ear.

Removing her gloves, she reached across to the bedside cabinet, selected a packet, ripped it apart with her teeth and had him covered within seconds before replacing the gloves. Resting her head on the pillow, she watched as he pulled her knees apart and searched for her entrance.

"Let me help," she said, taking hold of him and placing him ready.

He smoothly pushed and was fully deep in one movement. Leaning over her, he began to fuck her energetically but stopped when he felt her hand on his head. He looked at her in surprise.

"I don't want you to bang your head on the headboard," she said, genuinely looking concerned.

He moved away, grasped her hips, pulling her towards him, and then entered her once more. He placed her legs over his shoulders, spiked heels by his ears and pushed. He always thought what an uncomfortable position it was for a woman, with her knees almost touching her shoulders and, with a lady like Anna, her breasts being squashed. But he had never come across a woman who didn't like that position. Folded and fucked was what he had named it.

Powerfully he pushed into her, each surge met with a grunt as the air was forced from her lungs. His fingers intertwined with the fingers of her gloved hands, holding her in place unable to move, but her not wanting to move.

"Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck my cunt, William! Fuck it hard!" she cried out as the enjoyment cascaded through her.

As hard as he could, he followed her request. He rammed into her relentlessly, but it had to end sometime. That time arrived just at the point when his energy was flagging.

"I'm going to come," he told her between gritted teeth.

"Then come for me. Come for me. Right now!"

There was no misunderstanding the tone in her voice. Undisguised, demanding, desire. Lust not love. She was at the point when she wanted him. All of him. She was in control. She wanted what he had and she wanted it now. When he was drained he released her hands, and legs, letting them fall either side of him onto the bed, and lay on her, his head on her chest, struggling to regain himself. Raising his head, he gazed into her eyes, and their lips came together once more. Tender, caring, loving, their tongues slowly caressing as they both bathed in the afterglow.

After what seemed an eternity, he murmured, "I want your legs wrapped around my head, and my tongue inside you."

She didn't answer. She didn't need to reply. The look on her face told him she wanted it to.

He shuffled backwards and knelt between her legs. He didn't have to pull them apart. He started at the perineum, licking upwards to her clit. Slowly. Gently. Enjoying every taste. Inhaling the scent of her sex. Determined to please her. To stay there for however long it took.

"That's it. Just there. That's the spot," she gasped. "Don't stop."

Stopping was the last thing on his mind. He had her now. Just as she had been in control when he had come, he was in control now. He wrapped his arms around her thighs, holding her down as she began to lose control, pulling her in to him, not wanting to lose contact. He was determined to give her an orgasm to remember him by. She thrust against his mouth, consumed by the fire within. His tongue continued with her writhing against him, her cries music to his ears.

"No more. I can't take any more."

Slowly he crawled up beside her and tenderly kissed her. No tongues. No lust. Just a thank you. A thank you for being her. A thank you for being with him. A thank you for giving him so much pleasure. A thank you for allowing him to give her pleasure.

"Much as I would love to stay, which you know is true, I must be going."

"Would you like a shower?" Anna asked. He nodded. "You know where it is, and the towels are in the usual place."

A short time later he was at the door, reluctantly saying goodbye, and then he was gone. Looking forward to the next time, and hoping the opportunity would arise sooner rather than later.

Anna went into her bedroom. Not the bedroom in which she entertained clients, the one in which she and William had just shared an hour of pleasure, but her private bedroom.

Opening the wall safe, she removed a key. There was a door next to the stairs and that key fitted the lock. Opening the door, she descended into what had originally been the unused basement of the house, but was now fitted out and decorated to the same standard as the rooms above.

The farthest wall was covered with television monitors, each one alive, and each one showing a room in the house from different angles. Four different angles in the bedroom she had been in with William. Someone was sat in a chair facing the screens, watching them.

She stood with her back to the monitors, gazing at the man sat in the chair. He stared back at her, an apprehensive look on his face.

"Did you enjoy the show, Darling?" she laughed, "I see from the puddle on the floor that you did. William is such a gentleman. Such a talented and willing lover. You look very good, Darling, for someone who has been dead for seven years. Did you realise today is the anniversary of you being officially declared dead? We should celebrate. What would you like to do?"

"I'd like to get out of this fucking cell you've got me locked in. But I can't, can I? I'd like to put my hands around your throat and squeeze the life from you. But I can't. Can I? Because you've fucked with my mind. I can't hurt you. You've seen to that."

"When I found out, all those years ago, how susceptible you are to hypnosis, I couldn't believe my luck. How easy it is to control you. I don't lock the cellar door to stop you from escaping. It's to prevent the possibility of anyone accidentally finding you."

"Because as well as the instruction not to hurt you, you've put another damn instruction in my mind. Preventing me from climbing the stairs. I'm unable to put a foot on even the bottom step without your permission."

She let loose an evil laugh. "What a clever little devil I am."


Eight years earlier, Annabelle and her husband, James, were seated at their dining room table, having just enjoyed a delicious dinner, cooked by James, with two almost empty glasses of wine in front of them.

"I think our married life is at an impasse. I don't want a divorce but things need to change. They are going to change," said Annabelle as if she was discussing the weather.

James, about to suggest they have a brandy and he enjoy a cigar, was shocked. "But Annabelle, what's wrong with our marriage? I thought we were happy. Why aren't you happy?"

"A divorce has never been on my mind, James. But I am going to take control of our marriage. In fact, although you can't remember, I've already taken control of our marriage. You will do what I say because you have no choice."

"No choice? Of course I have a choice," retorted James indignantly. "You can't make me do anything I don't want to do."

Annabelle spoke two words. Instantly James's attitude and posture changed. He knelt before her, his head bowed, waiting for Annabelle to speak.

"You are now under my control, James, and will do anything I instruct. If you show opposition to my wishes you will be punished. Tonight I will allow you will make love to me. One last time. After that you will never be allowed to penetrate me again. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, Mistress."


Fifty one weeks after that fateful discussion, the week before his birthday, Annabelle and James stood in the basement of their house, surveying all the work, all the alterations he had carried out in the previous months.

"You have done a marvellous job," said Annabelle, not even trying to hide the admiration in her voice.

"Thank you, I'm glad you're pleased, Annabelle."

Turning towards him, she fixed him with an icy stare. "Would you like to try that again," she said, in a quiet and calm voice.

"Thank you, I'm glad you're pleased, Mistress."

She held out her hand. He knelt and kissed her gold ring. The gold ring he had bought for her, on her instruction, engraved with a depiction of a woman's head wearing a crown.

"We will now do a final inspection, ready for you moving down here permanently."

The basement was actually divided into two rooms. This was because, as with most houses, the floors above had to be supported by walls below. This first room had a thick, wall to wall, dark red carpet that gave a feeling of warmth. The walls had been plastered and painted, by James of course, and she had allowed him to decorate them with pictures and photographs he liked. A small bookcase filled with fiction and non-fiction books. A three quarter width bed by the side of which was a radio and at the bed end a television set. She didn't want him to be isolated from the outside world completely. In a corner was a shower cubicle, together with wash basin and toilet. No need for clothes storage, only toiletries and towels, because he wouldn't be wearing any clothes.

One wall, opposite the basement stairs, had been wood panelled and was completely covered in television monitors.

"Switch all the monitors on," she instructed. "I want to check that everything works."

It only needed one switch and within seconds she was looking at every room in the house, some from more than one angle, all in colour. He had also installed cameras in the basement so she could watch him. She had a master control in her bedroom that overrode his ability to switch the monitors on and off. She also controlled his ability to listen although she could listen to him, and see him, at any time. When she was watching him, the cameras showed a green light and that was his opportunity to make any request he might have.

She nodded in approval.

"You have done an excellent job."

He beamed at the praise and, if he had been a dog, he would have wagged his tail.

They walked into the second room which was larger than the first. It still had the original brickwork, which he had cleaned and sealed, and then paint sprayed it. Black. The ceiling was almost entirely covered with mirrors as was one wall. The walls held numerous implements that she intended to use on him for her pleasure and amusement. She was sure that, given appropriate encouragement, in time she would be able to bring out the masochistic tendencies she had recognised in him. She had no intention of having him under hypnosis whilst she indulged herself. She wanted him to be completely aware of what was happening.

There was a St. Andrews Cross, a leather covered bench that could be adjusted for several positions including being used as a rack, a love swing hung from the ceiling and there was just enough height for a chain, with hook attached, also to be fitted to the ceiling. Looking at the walls, it seemed there was every possible thing she could ever want to use for her enjoyment. She could feel herself becoming moist thinking of the prospects.

She wanted his living accomodation to be comfortable so she had him install heating in both rooms. With him being constantly naked she didn't want him becoming ill because of cold.

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