Forfeits

I leaned in and licked at them and the silk felt oddly smooth but the overwhelming impression was the taste. It seemed stale somehow and I began to wonder how long she had been wearing them and for just how long she had been aroused. I tried not to dwell on it and licked again quickly.

“Mmmmm…”

Her body shivered with pleasure and fired up with my own success I licked her in a series of long strokes right along her cleft which, as the silky material grew wetter, became more clearly delineated. The taste now was hot, fresh and strong and I hoped she was getting close not least because the silk was more abrasive that I might have imagined. My tongue was getting a little sore and I moved up a fraction and hoped that I had found her clitoris. Judging by Claire’s more fidgety movements I guessed that I was prospecting in the right place and this became obvious when she screwed her panties in her hands and pulled them more tightly to her mound. The material was sheer enough to show all the details of her sex and I renewed my assault at the apex of her labia.

“Oh..Oh..Uhho….”

Claire was being more vocal than usual and she began to push her hips at me forcing me to bob my head to maintain contact but then she arched her back and stayed rigid as I finally achieved success. Her body gave a series of tiny jerks and then she slumped back onto the bed seemingly sated. I did not want to seem perfunctory and so I stayed where I was for a moment whilst she got her breath. Her panties were very wet and looked decidedly uncomfortable and as though reading my mind she touched me on the head.

“Take them off for me.”

I eased them down her legs, dropped them onto the floor, and then started to crawl up the bed but just as I drew up my knee she put her hand back on the top of my head.

“I want another one...”

My immediate reaction was to laugh but one look at her face was enough to tell me that she was not joking.

“Claire, I’m tired.”

She gave me her pouting look which I have always found difficult to read. Her face might break into a smile but it was equally likely to develop into a scowl. In the end the decision made itself. I could do nothing to relieve my own situation until the morning and playing the considerate lover gave me an opportunity to retake the moral high ground. She smiled as I lowered my head once more but it took an effort of will. In all the years of our relationship Claire had always been very fastidious about keeping a neat and closely trimmed bikini line but more recently she had opted for a more natural look and I suspected that she intended it as an subliminal slap in the face. Now her nest of tight black curls was cold, wet and reeking and not at all appealing but I steeled myself to the task. I pressed two fingers to her labia and parted her slightly and then began to lick gently with just the tip of my tongue. She was surprisingly hot and she leaked moisture at the first touch but I avoided the temptation to push right in and concentrated on her labia which firmed beneath my touch.

“Don’t stop…I like that…”

I did as she asked licking each side in turn and with each stroke her legs opened a fraction more until I could work freely on her inner lips and then I naturally moved on upwards towards her clitoris. It was at this point that she put her hand back on my head and kept it there.

“Not yet…”

I immediately felt a surge of irrational anger. Claire knew that I could, and would, only do it out of love for her and that I hated it when she used her hands to guide me. On the one hand, I suppose, it was the symbolism, it seemed to reinforce the idea that one person was beneath the other in every sense, but there was also the resentment of the suggestion that I was, somehow, in need of guidance. As far as I knew I did not leave her disappointed.

I was about to shrug her off when she began to breath more quickly and I decided to simply carry on and get it over with. I firmed my tongue and pushed it inside to be greeted by a fresh gush of moisture and an appreciative yelp from Claire. Her muscles began to flex, hugging my tongue almost painfully, and, at the same time, she twined her fingers in my hair and pulled me more tightly to her. She was flooding with excitement, forcing me to swallow to keep up with her, and I was grateful when, finally, she tugged at my hair and drew my mouth onto her clitoris.

My tongue was sore but I made one last effort and licked at her in a series of rapid flicking strokes which was almost guaranteed to take her over the edge but I was surprised at the strength of her reaction. She almost lifted off of the bed as a frenzied climax began to shake her and, as she took hold of my head in both hands and pulled me to her, it was though she was seeking an anchor point to save from taking off. Claire is a strong woman and I am not sure that she realised just how uncomfortable I was but she was totally lost in a private universe of pleasure and she did not release me until the last of the tremors abated and she fell back with one final sigh.

Afterwards I felt odd and, looking back, I guess it was because that, in some way, I felt used. It had always seemed to me that our lovemaking was so special because it was selfless but what had just transpired somehow seemed to have crossed a boundary.

I got up and went through into the bathroom where I spent a little longer than necessary brushing my teeth again and then I ran a bowl of hot water and dipped my face. As I dried myself I looked at the tube in the mirror and, for a few seconds, I was tempted to go back downstairs and try again with the saw but I now felt a new tiredness to add to the effects of the alcohol and I padded back to bed.

Claire was already asleep, the remains of her clothes tossed casually on the floor, and I crept in beside her. I rechecked the alarm to make sure that I had enough time to get the tube off before I left for the airport in the morning and then I turned out the light. I closed my eyes but sleep did not come easily. My hand seemed to keep creeping down to my groin of its own accord but examining the tube in this way was self defeating. My brain assumed that my hand was headed south for altogether different reasons and I was soon suffering the cramped pain of a frustrated erection. Finally I disciplined myself and locked my hands together behind my head and after that I must have started to doze.

My dreams were both vivid and strange. At one point I awoke sitting on the edge of the bed in a cold sweat and I had to look around the bedroom to reassure myself. In my mind I had been in the room with Di, Petra and Adele and they were coaxing me to put on the tube but I was resisting. I refused to get undressed and I called out to Claire but she did not come. The three of them were taunting me, calling me a wimp, and then they pushed me onto the bed. I fought, but I struck out half-heartedly with the uneasiness of a man who had never hit a woman, and they took advantage of my reticence. Petra and Adele sat across my body, pinning me down, whilst Di ripped my trousers off. I kicked out blindly but Di sat across my legs and I could do nothing as she slipped the cold tube on to me. She told me that it was wrong of me to resist and, as a punishment she was going to fix the bands of the tube another notch tighter. I begged her not to but I was overcome by pain as she fulfilled her promise and then I woke up.

It took a long time for my heart to settle and for sleep to take me once more but it was only to be assailed by an older, more familiar, nightmare. I have always been mildly claustrophobic and I would often have dreams of suffocation only to wake and find myself struggling with the bed clothes. This was one such dream. I was finding it hard to breathe and I felt myself getting hotter. I willed myself to take deeper breaths but there was a weight pressing on my lungs and then there was the awful moment when my brain told me that my eyes were open but all that I registered was darkness.

I tried to yell but my mouth was gagged and then, through the blackness and chaos, there came something familiar, something to latch on to. It was a taste, sour sweet, and it brought with it all my memories of the previous evening and a blessed return to consciousness.

“Good morning sleepy head.”

Claire was kneeling over me with her legs astride my head and her weight resting on my ribcage.

“What the hell are you up to?!”

“Oh, don’t be like that. I enjoyed last night, it was really something special. I was hoping that you would give me a little morning treat.”

I licked my lips reflexively and the taste suggested that she had already taken a self service approach. I felt annoyed and jerked my shoulder to signal my displeasure but Claire thought I was being playful.

“Oh, no you don’t.”

She slipped her weight forward and, because my hands were still linked behind my head, she was able to pin my arms.

“Claire, get off! I’m not in the mood and I’ve got to get to the airport,”

In fact mood had little to do with it. It was simply a position that I hated to be in. I could not even enjoy soixante-neuf unless I was on top. I know that this had rankled Claire from time to time but I was just not comfortable with it.

“You’ve got plenty of time. Come on, make me come, and then we’ll get that thing off and you can fuck me senseless before you go.”

Only then did I remember the tube and with it the obvious knowledge that this was not a morning to upset her. With as much good grace as I could muster I put out my tongue and started to lick at her dark bush. For her part Claire shimmied further forward, positioning her sex over my mouth, to grant me easier access but, pinned as I was, I could not reach her clitoris without straining my neck. Nevertheless I made the effort knowing that it was going to be the quickest way to satisfy her but Claire was in no hurry. She lifted herself slightly so that I could only reach her with the tip of my tongue and then she cupped her breasts in her hands and began to brush her nipples with her thumbs. This was quite brazen, even by Claire’s standards, but the results were obvious as she started to moan and drips of moisture began to fall into my mouth.

I hoped that I managed to disguise my disgust but Claire seemed oblivious as she used her fingers to part herself and settled heavily onto my face. Her weight was uncomfortable but I could now get at her clitoris and met with immediate success. As I drew the engorged bud gently between my lips and licked firmly her body began to tremor but, as the pleasurable feelings grew, she seemed to lose all control. Within seconds she was grinding herself onto my face and I was so shocked I could not even protest. I closed my mouth to spare my tongue but it seemed that she had no further need for it. Her damp pubis felt almost abrasive as she worked herself up over my chin, nose and forehead in a series of violent jerks that came from the hips. Mercifully her orgasm was as short-lived as it was violent and she settled back onto my sternum as she attempted to gather herself.

As I looked up into her face, sheened in perspiration, her eyes looked wild and it was a while before she seemed to draw herself back to the present. When she did, she got off me and kissed me on the tip of the nose.

“Thank you. Mr. Bond”

The reference to 007 was a small jibe. Back in University, when we were still dating the girls, we had a boy’s night out and Patrick said that our partners were good looking enough to be Bond girls. That started a debate about who was who. Diane was easy. With her English rose good looks and cultured voice she resembled Fiona Fullerton. Adele could be taken for the blonde spy in “From Russia With Love” whose name none of us could remember, and Petra, with her exotic Cuban ancestry, could only be Barbara Carrera. That just left Claire and my three friends seemed in no doubt. They did not believe that I had not seen the resemblance and when they gave me the name I was amazed that I had not spotted it myself. Claire was Maud Adams, the actress who played Octopussy, which in itself gave rise to a few ribald remarks.

The actress was a Swede by birth and both she and Claire have the same clearly defined Nordic bone structure and striking blue eyes. They also had in common a thick head of dark curly hair and a self-confident look which some people took for haughtiness. Unfortunately the girls got wind of our conversation and we had all had our legs pulled about it ever since.

“Now for the other half of the bargain. Let’s go downstairs and I’ll get the saw.”

“A saw? Isn’t that a little drastic?”

“It’s the only way. The padlock is too tight fitting.”

“You know best.”

We both slipped on dressing gowns and went down to the kitchen. Claire put the kettle on whilst I went into the garage. Having thrown away the saw the night before I now had to look for it. I found it lying on top of a pile of dust sheets but I cursed as I retrieved it. The blade was broken in two and must have been much weaker than I thought because the canvas sheets had ensured a soft landing. I took it back into the kitchen and Claire stated the obvious.

“That’s not going to be much good.”

“Can you get to the shops this morning? I won’t have time in Scotland. I’ve got two meetings and making the flight back will be tight anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Are you going to be all right?”

“I’ll have to be.”

Forfeits - Chapter 2

When I arrived at the airport I drove to the executive car park and went through into the lounge where Sheila, my business partner, was already waiting. I picked up a coffee and Danish and a complimentary Financial Times and went to join her. The meetings in Scotland were simply a chore. We were going up there to do little more than show our faces and to stand our clients a good lunch but Sheila, ever efficient, had all the latest sales statistics to hand and she proceeded to bring me up to speed.

It was good to get my mind onto something else because, up to then, I had done little more than think about the tube. With the aid of a tight pair of pants I no longer had a problem with the weight but I could not shake the feeling that everyone was looking at me. Even as I sat speaking to Sheila I kept expecting her to look down into my lap but that was a nonsense on all counts. For one thing the tube hardly showed and for another Sheila was happily married and in the five years we had been partners there had never been a hint of impropriety.

I skimmed the paper and had just finished my coffee when our flight was called. The executive lounge had a dedicated gate and so formalities were kept to a minimum, particularly on domestic flights, but, dumb as I was, I had completely forgotten about the metal detectors. I stood in line with Sheila waiting to go through the arch and I broke out into a cold sweat. I could not think straight, the best I could come up with was to feign illness, but if I faked a collapse it would be hard to avoid an examination anyway.

We were shuffling ever closer and then Sheila was going through. She retrieved her laptop as it came out from the x-ray scanner and then waited for me as I stood frozen at the portal. I felt a cold trickle of sweat running from my arm pit and knew that, if I backed down now, I would probably be stopped on suspicion.

I braced myself and took a single, unnatural, giant step through the arch and the resultant beep seemed like the loudest sound in the world.

“Excuse me sir. Do you have keys, coins, or any other metal objects?”

The official was a pretty, petite, blonde who managed to look sexy notwithstanding the drab gray uniform she was obliged to wear. She flashed me a patient smile as I took out my car keys and showed them to her.

“Please put them in the tray and step back through.”

I was caught in no mans land and left with little choice. I stepped through the arch and cringed as it beeped again.

“Please step this way again sir.”

I heard people tutting in the queue behind me as the beep sounded for a third time.

“Would you have any objections to being patted down sir?”

I knew that I was flushed with embarrassment which was compounded when I saw Sheila’s puzzled expression. I looked desperately towards the x-ray scanner but it was staffed by two more females and there was not a male official in sight. I leaned closer to the blonde and spoke quietly.

“I don’t object but there is a religious implication. Would it be possible to be searched by a male officer?”

The blonde looked both surprised and exasperated and I suspected that most men would be only too eager to co-operate. When she spoke again her tone was more officious.

“We only have three staff on duty sir. I could call a colleague down from the main terminal but we will not hold the flight and you will not be allowed to board without being searched.”

Sheila was looking at her watch and I could see that she was about to intervene. I had no choice. I leaned forward to whisper again.

“Okay, you can search me, but is there somewhere a little more private?”

She now looked really pissed off. She called one of her colleagues over from the scanner.

“Stand in for me. I’ll be two minutes.”

I flashed Sheila a “not to worry” smile and followed the blonde into a small side room. It struck me then that I had probably been my own worst enemy. Had I conceded to a cursory check at the arch I might have got away with it. Now, the blonde had little option other than to do it by the book. She asked me to stand with my arms away from my body and my legs apart. She ran her hands quickly and professionally over my arms and trunk and then knelt to check my legs. My heart stopped as she patted firmly up both sides of my left leg and I felt her thumb brush at the tube but she carried on and checked my right leg. When she stood up again I gave an inner sigh of relief and smiled dumbly.

“Thank you sir. Would you mind telling me what you’re wearing?”

“Wearing?”

“I’m going to have to ask you to remove your jacket and take down your trousers.”

She spoke in a detached, professional manner, but that did not help my embarrassment.

“Look, surely you have a male colleague available?”

She sighed.

“Do you have any luggage on the flight sir?”

“No, just my carry on, why?”

“Because I can clear the flight to go whilst you wait here for a more senior official.”

I looked at her but there was no sympathy in her eyes. It was a stark choice and it was mine for the making. The simple equation was that I was going to be embarrassed anyway it was simply a question or whether or not I compounded it by missing the flight and having to give awkward explanations to Sheila. There was nothing for it. The woman would probably have a laugh about it with her friends but I was unlikely ever to see her again. I took off my jacket and folded it over the back of a chair then I unfastened my trousers and, letting them slip to the floor, I noticed that she backed off slightly and turned sideways on. It occurred to me that she was expecting to see a weapon of some description. When she saw the tube outlined by my pants she looked slightly perplexed but she relaxed just a fraction.

“And the pants please sir.”

Having come so far there was no point baulking at the final hurdle and so I dropped my pants and stood there with the tube on show. When she spoke again the studied professionalism was missing.

“What the hell is it?”

I was tempted to bullshit and tell her that it was a splint but the padlock could not be explained away.

“It’s a chastity tube.”

She looked fascinated as she stepped forward and tentatively reached out to touch it.

“Do you mind?”

“Yes I bloody do! I’ve told you what it is.”