Anyone for Tennis, Dennis? Ch. 04: Acting Surprise.

Anyone for Tennis, Menace, Dennis?

By Nikki Kernovii

Chapter 4 -- Acting Surprise.

It's just Business.

The week passed so slowly. At work, at home, everywhere I went, I thought of Dennis and the spankings.

So many times at home, alone in the evenings, I longed to play with my hungry pussy.

When I met Sarah at the pub, we talked of things. Everything except Dennis. I could not tell even her just yet. She knew. She had to know. But still. We chatted and gossiped and had a drink or two as friends.

I hurried through my usual Saturday chores.

The weekly washing was easy. Lacking all underwear, I did not need to do a white clothes only wash. I settled just for one run of coloured clothes, while I cleaned and vacuumed the cottage.

What I wore, walking to the hall, was pretty irrelevant, if I was going to strip at the gate anyway, so just wore a mid-length skirt and loose buttoned jacket. No bra, no blouse. Another touch of naughtiness.

It meant that I was excited and horny before I even made it to The Hall. Every person I passed, mainly people walking their dogs, I would give a friendly nod and a smile, but inside my mind was screaming 'You don't know what I AM NOT wearing.'

I opened the gate, closing it behind me. There beside the gate was a sturdy metal box attached to the post.

I stripped, placed my clothes, watch and small handbag in the box and fastened the collar about my neck.

There was a strange comforting feeling in completing this simple action. It was a mark of his control.

In my head I knew this was weird. I know other people, including my friend Sarah, would not understand. But it still felt good. It felt right to me.

Locking the box and clipping the key to collar had a strange sense of finality to it. I had done it. I had done it of my own choice. I had chosen to commit myself to this.

I walked as fast as I could up the drive and around the side of the house. It was still warm, dry and sunny. I had assumed, without instruction, that Dennis would be on the patio again.

As I hurried around the corner of the house, I stopped in my tracks when I discovered that Dennis was not alone.

Seated on the far side from Dennis were two men. Business men by the looks, as they were in suits with shirts and ties. One looked older and grey and with a hard-looking demeanour. The other, maybe in his forties, looked like an accountant or lawyer. The wire-frame glasses and striped shirt was a give-away in my book.

"Ah my little slut, there you are. You are late. Hurry. My guests are waiting." Dennis said, shaking his hand in my direction.

Late? I was spot on time. What was going on?

Dennis got out of his chair and strode quickly towards me. He yanked the leash. "Jouer le jeu. Ma petite bonne française. And you may receive your reward." He whispered. Then "Get a move on and serve my guests, you lazy slut." He said overly loud, as he gave my bottom a quick hard slap.

Something was going on. I had no idea what.

'Jouer le jeu? Play the game.'

What game? It took a moment for me to guess something was going on that he wanted me to be part of.

I could see a tray with a tea set and three cups on the table, so hurried over to serve the tea.

I poured tea to all three cups.

I turned to the older man first.

"Voulez-vous du lait?" I asked, enjoying a real chance to practice my new skills.

"What the fuck is this slut asking? Talk fucking English, you lazy tart." He said roughly.

'How rude.' I thought. Ok so he was English and from London. I wondered if I should continue to pretend to be French. Though I thought my ridiculous English midlands accent would give me away.

"Bien joué ma salope." Dennis said, smiling at me. I had no idea what I had done.

"The slut asks if you want milk." Dennis translated on my behalf. That felt weird.

"Yes. And one sugar." The older man said. Without even a 'please'. Ignorant bastard.

I took Dennis translating as a sign to keep being obscure.

I poured the milk, spooned in his one sugar and handed him the cup. He took it without even a 'Thank you.' I was beginning to dislike this man.

The younger one said, "Milk only for me please. No sugar."

I served him his. He was milder, gentler, and at least knew his manners. Just as I was reaching over though, I felt a push. It can only have been from Dennis. I lost my balance and spilled some of the tea onto the older man's trousers.

I was mortified. Now what.

"Bien joué. You clumsy slut. What are you doing?" Dennis was out of his chair, arms waving. He gave my bottom another smack (Not unpleasant).

But now I was really confused. 'Well done' What?

"My pardon Mr Armstrong. My humble apologies. My slut is all wrong today. Perhaps we correct this? If you were to, say, punish the slut. This would make things better? No?"

Let that rude arrogant man punish me? What had I got myself into?

"Bloody good idea. In my day we would give a slut like that a good hard thrashing." He said grumpily, patting down his wet trousers with a handkerchief.

In his day? When was that? The 1850s.

"Quite so. Quite so." Dennis said calmly. His voice like oiled silk. "You have her on your knee. You give her six spanks." He offered gripping hard on my left butt cheek. "This would be sufficient? Yes?" He asked. Calm and smooth.

"What? Yes. Certainly. Though twenty would be better." Mr Armstrong said gruffly.

"Six. I think. Then the slut will learn."

"Ok." Mr Armstrong agreed. "Come here you little bitch."

I did not like this at all, but felt Dennis push me towards the horrible man.

As soon as I was close enough, he grabbed my arm and threw me across his lap. He was stronger than he had looked. Almost as soon as I was bent, he started slapping my bottom. There was no rhythm or style. Just hard, full-hand slaps. I hoped his hand hurt as much as my bottom.

A though it had crossed my mind, that I would not enjoy this, the way I had with Dennis, as the connection between us was quite different.

In moments it was all over and the horrid man pushed me away.

"Now leave us. We have big important business. And then I need to get going." He was right grumpy.

I stood, my hands brushing my red bottom and found that I did enjoy the heat, despite the awful man, and knew that my pussy was already damp.

"Asseoir." Dennis said, indicating a chair next to him. "Les jambes écartées."

I sat very carefully, but found the cold metal of the patio chair quite a comforting sensation.

I was not sure what that last bit was. 'Jambes' I had worked out was legs. Dennis indicated by opening his own legs in a very 'Man-Spreading' way.

Oh god!

I carefully opened my legs, giving the two visitors a completely clear view of my open and wet pussy.

I blushed even harder than I had been. I was going to die of humiliation. And that made me wetter. My body was betraying me.

"And Now..." Dennis said. And proceeded back to some complicated negotiating.

Shortly after I had sat down, Dennis had pulled a folder from under his chair, which had a thick document in it and was using this. Occasionally this got passed to Armstrong and back again.

There was a lot of back and forth, very much like a Tennis match. The older man would suggest something, Dennis would counter and throw back. Dennis would suggest something about a change to paragraph whatever and the old man would mutter something and throw back. He kept alternating looking at Dennis and looking at me.

And so it went.

I noticed that the younger man did not join in, but he kept his eyes firmly on my naked body. Mostly on my titties and pussy. He had an impressive tent in his trousers.

The arguing went on for a good half hour.

Eventually Dennis Said. "Bon. Good we are all agreed."

"Yes I suppose so. You drive a hard bargain you bastard. I just wish you worked for me." Armstrong said. Sounding quite begrudging.

Dennis made some notes on the document. He seemed to initial it in places, then on the last page gave a big indulgent flourish as he signed it. He passed the folder over the table.

Both Mr Armstrong and his flunky signed their sections of the back page.

"And please Slut. You sign as independent witness." Dennis passed the folder to me.

"Witness to what?" I asked, surprised. Then stopped, as I realised that I had given away my English voice. Oh well.

"You are witness that we agreed this contract today with no coercion. That is all."

"Oh."

Dennis pointed to a section marked 'Independent Witness. Name: Address: Any Relationships with the signatories, Date:'

There were two copies.

I filled these in with the pen Dennis offered.

Name: obvious enough as was address. Relationship I answered with none. I really did not have any sort of recognisable relationship with Dennis. I did not know what I had. He was not my boyfriend. I was not his girlfriend.

I was his -- SLUT.

That information was not going on any sort of document.

"Excellent." Dennis said with a broad smile. He withdrew one copy of the document and passed it to the flunky.

"Slut.You to please escort these gentlemen to their car. Att front." Dennis said to me.

'Fine gentlemen?' My arse. Rogues more like. But I kept that thought in my head.

I had no idea what I was doing. So far out of my depth I needed water wings.

But still I walked in front of the two men out to the front of the house, where there was a Jaguar car that I had not noticed earlier.

How had I not seen this?

I had walked with face forward quickly, anticipating more pain and sex, that is why. I had not taken any notice of my surroundings.

This was a lesson indeed. I needed to be more careful.

I even opened the back door of the car for Mr Armstrong.

"And I suppose that bastard is going to fuck you now, is he? Slut." Armstrong said crudely as he got in the back of the car.

"Non Monsieur." I said with a smile.

I did not wait to close the door, but walked as quickly as I could back to the patio and the waiting Dennis.

As I arrived he was smiling broadly and gave me a huge hug, which surprised me.

"Bonne, my little one. Magnifique."

He stepped back and took a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and gave it to me.

The piece of paper turned out to be a cheque for ten thousand pounds.

Ten fucking thousand fucking pounds!

Made out to me.

I stared at it in disbelief.

I barely earned that in half a year.

"What?" I asked. "Why?"

"Because, my little one. I just make two million." He held up two fingers. "This is your right commission. For your part."

"But...But..."

"Non. Not to trouble yourself. You earn this. It is yours."

"But why."

"Because today I use you. You help me to... to... merde. Où sont les mots?" Dennis sounded surprisingly out of words. "You help me do business with nasty people. You distract them. You upset them. They lose control. I stay in control. I make a lot of money. A contract is signed. There is no going back." He was almost laughing.

"This money is yours." He said.

"You are not trying to buy me?" I asked, remembering his talk to me the previous week.

"Non." He said suddenly not laughing. "Non. Not at all. I never buy you. Never." He was quite serious. He wagged a finger. "You walk away today. I never see you again. That money is yours."

But then he said almost in a conspiratorial whisper. "But perhaps together we make more money. Maybe? And more fun. Non?"

He sat back down. "I hope you stay." He said, smiling his gorgeous smile again.

I melted.

He patted the chair next to him again. "Sit my little one." He said "Today we talk."

I sat. I was, sort of, disappointed. So far most of the afternoon had been so far out of my comfort zone and experience that I hoped for something more settling.

Like a good hard spanking.

Weird that I thought that. But it was true.

"Last week. I push you. I test you. We learn your body and its ways. We test?"

I had to agree, "Oui. Yes. That was amazing. I enjoyed it. Very much so."

"So you enjoy it. I see you enjoy it. But we must talk." It seemed that he started to relax after being on edge all afternoon.

"There is much pleasure in pain. But much danger. I do not wish damage." He said. It looked again as if he was searching for the right words.

"The book, I gave. You have read this?"

"The story of O? Yes. Not quite finished it yet." I said.

"You like?"

"Sort of. It is well written as a story. Some of the stuff O goes through is a bit scary.

Are you like Rene?"

"Perhaps. A bit. And perhaps not. It is O that is important. And the Chateaux."

"Un moment." He said. "Stay." He got out of his chair and almost ran into the house.

What was I to do but enjoy the sun on my naked skin?

Enjoy the birds that were singing in the trees behind me. And think about what the hell was I going to do with Ten Thousand Pounds?

Dennis emerged back on to the patio a few minutes later with a large bag.

He sat back down then arranged a whole load of things on the patio table. Some looked alright-ish. Some looked downright scary. Some I had no idea about.

"Première." Dennis pointed to a row of clips. "You start here." He pointed to the first clip. "You put them on. You try. You wait. Then, you try next. You tell me what you feel. Ok?"

I was to put these on myself?

It was hard feeling Dennis put the nipple clips on me last weekend. Then I had no control. I was not able to say no or stop. Or even slow down.

I was not sure how I felt about doing it myself.

I picked up the first one. It was like a big crocodile clip. With big sharp teeth. And a serious spring on the handles.

"Here." Dennis said. "Not on the end." He pointed to the base of my left nipple around the dark areola.

I opened the clip and placed it over the base of my nipple, where the colour changed to the lighter pink flesh of my breast. I shut my eyes as I slowly let go of the handle.

The pain was instant and sharp. I could feel the bite. I drew a gulp of breath.

But just like last weekend, that soon changed. I could feel the electric jolt straight to my clit and my pussy got wet again.

I breathed out. Yes! That was tolerable. Even pleasurable, after my own fashion.

I sat and bathed in the pain. I concentrated on it. I could feel it in my blood.

After a while when I felt I understood that level, I opened the clip. I was already anticipating the rush of blood back into the drained teat. And knew that pain too. I could feel the after-tingle. That warm, relief sensation.

Yes. I could understand and use that.

I think I understood what Dennis was trying to do.

"YES. But not for very long," I said.

I put the clip back on the table and picked up the next.

This was bigger. The teeth looked bigger.

I put this one on my right breast.

Gods! That was sharper and the spring stronger.

I felt the pain level rise faster, before it settled down.

But still, I could enjoy this, if not for too long.

"Just barely." I said. "Nice enough for a short while."

Dennis meanwhile had poured some more tea and offered me a cup.

It felt so totally strange to sit, calmly sipping tea, with a torture device hanging from my naked breasts.

Dennis just sat there sipping his own tea and staring at me, with a wry grin on his face.

I moved on to the next clamp. This one had what I thought were less pronounced teeth, but as it bit in, obviously had a stronger spring. Again, as it bit down, I felt that strange electric pulse straight to the centre of my sex.

I was starting to sweat, and panting.

I could not bear that for long and quickly took it off.

"Not really." I winced and rubbed my sore nipples.

The next clamp had some kind of screw handle. It fit right over my nipple in a sort of square frame.

I turned the handle. Ok So far.

I turned the handle some more and watched my nipple squash flat and turn red. Or redder.

Another turn, and the pain started. Yes that was fun. I liked that.

Another turn. Ok. Beginning to get more notice.

I hesitated. I closed my eyes and turned my whole attention to my breast.

Another turn of the screw. I sucked in my breath.

Yes. Just there. Just there, the pain was delicious.

It was impossible to ignore, but not distracting. I felt my clit pulse in sympathy.

Weird. But then that was me these days.

"Cinque. Five turns." Dennis said, interrupting my reverie. "We remember this. You like?"

"Yes." I said. "Of all the clips that is the best."

"You may remove." He looked quite animated. "The next is not so easy." He said withdrawing more stuff from his bag. "You stand one moment."

I stood, carefully unscrewing the clamps. As each turn released the pressure slowly, the return of blood was gentler and less urgent. I might get myself some of these to play with on my own. Then I remembered Dennis's embargo on me playing with myself.

From his bag he withdrew a black dong like a dildo, but with some sort of suction cup thing on the end.

He squirted the top with some gel.

"Asseoir." Dennis said, "This stretch your bottom."

Shit!

Ok. That was the wrong word to think.

This thing was going up my bottom?

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes." He said quite seriously. "Do it. Try."

I had one boyfriend who had asked for anal sex. I had refused him. I did not associate my bottom with sex. Well now I associated my butt cheeks with sex. Very much so.

But penetration of my anus was something else.

However, this was Dennis ordering me.

He had not so far asked me to do or done things to me, which had not turned out to be fun.

I spread my legs and used my hands to pull my butt cheeks apart as I tried to sit down.

I felt the cold, hard, end against my tight ring.

I pushed down a bit as I started to open up.

Slowly I lowered myself down. Bit by bit. I felt it open me further.

It took several minutes, before my butt cheeks were hard against the cold metal once again.

The cool metal was not that cold against my still warm bottom.

I felt so full. But it was not unpleasant.

Fidgeting a bit on the chair, wiggled the end against my stretched ring.

'Actually.' I thought. 'That feels quite good.'

"It is good?" Dennis asked. Perhaps seeing the smile replace the frown on my face

"Yes." I admitted.

"Good. Now please yourself."

"What?" I had a horrible Idea that I knew exactly what he meant.

"You know to please yourself. To self-pleasure. Yes?" He asked.

"Y... Y... yes." I stammered.

"So do. Show me. Teach me. I wish to see."

I had never done that before. Never in front of boyfriends. Not even in front of my close girl-friends.

It was a private pleasure. Something I had only ever done in the privacy of my own bed.

I gulped.

"You may use these." He placed several dildoes and vibrators on the table.

What was HE doing with such a collection of sex toys?

I gulped. And yet... And yet my pussy was pulsing and damp.

If I was really frightened wouldn't I have gone dry? Wouldn't I be unable to do this?

I felt that same thrill I had felt the first time I had gone about with no knickers on.

He would be watching.

This was very naughty.

And yet exciting.

The Devil on my shoulder urging me on, while the Angel on the other shoulder whispered 'This is dirty. This is perverted. This is something only a real tart would do'

'Yes.' The Devil said. 'But what a tart you have become over the last few weeks. Look at all the things that you have done, which you thought you would never do. AND look at how much YOU enjoyed them.'

That debate pushed me over the edge.

I lowered my right hand to my pussy, spread my fingers to run them the length of my labia. Pushing my lips together. Pressing up and down a dozen or so times, slow and steady, as I felt myself getting wetter.