Neighbourly Relations Ch. 05

One slight problem with our arrangement for Sunday evening was that I didn't actually own a video camera. Not that I'm complaining, of course – I would more than happily have paid twice what I did down at Dixon's that Sunday morning for the chance to capture her beauty and her submission on camera. So there was a definite spring in my step as I returned home that morning, already beginning to try and plan the details of what I was going to put Jane through in our little movie later that day.

When I got back to the building, I met my new neighbour, Alison, on the steps, walking back in with theIndependent on Sundaynewspaper and a pint of milk. She smiled thankfully as I held the main door open for her, looking casually sexy in dark jeans and a baggy white t-shirt. We walked together up the stairs to our floor.

"You had fun with your friend yesterday?"

She phrased it more like a statement than a question, and I was thrown – panicked even. What did she know? How had she found out? What did she think?

"Excuse me?" I spluttered.

"Your friend, you know – the dark-haired woman on your doorstep dressed like she was on the pull? You'd think a man would remember something like that, especially after she goes inside with him."

She had a deliciously frank way of speaking, I had to give her that. I couldn't help smiling.

"Oh her, yes. Right. Jane – she lives at number nine, actually."

It occurred to me that Alison might have actually heard Jane's cries of passion as she climaxed yesterday. They were pretty loud. Well, what the hell if she did? We were both consenting adults, after all.

"Been shopping?" she asked, pointing at the Dixon's bag as we reached our floor.

"Yes... New video camera."

"Nice..." She turned her key in the lock and pushed her door open. "Well, you and your friend have fun with that."

She winked at me and then disappeared into her flat, shutting the door before I even had time to realise that I hadn't mentioned Jane having anything to do with my purchase of the camera, nor would I have done.

That Alison was turning out to be a very intriguing woman indeed.

But it was Jane who I found all the more intriguing, of course, and beguiling. I spent most of the rest of the day trying to work out where best to place the camera – I couldn't afford a tripod as well, so it was just going to have to sit on the table – and how to set out my little amateur film set.

I managed to have it all worked out relatively quickly, and having my plans in place with so many hours still to go before my leading lady arrived only meant that I was all the more excited as I counted down the minutes until six o'clock. I could of course simply have phoned her and gotten her to come up right away – she would have come, no doubt about that, but I'd said six o'clock and that was that. I'm the sort of guy who likes to stick by his arrangements, once he's made them.

Eventually the hour came, and I was half-mad with desire and anticipation, leaping out of my chair and waiting by the door as soon as I heard the sound of her feet on the landing outside. She was still knocking on the door as I opened it, surprised that I was there so quickly and then grinning, pleased to see her Master once more.

It was hot and muggy weather out today, and she was certainly dressed for it, even though we of course would be going no further than the confines of my flat. All she wore was an orange bikini-top, a tight little denim miniskirt and light brown strappy open-toed shoes.

"You said I wouldn't be wearing it for very long," she explained confidently, not yet quite deferring to her role as the meek little slave girl. "So I decided I may as well not wear very much."

I nodded approvingly, standing aside to let her in and then giving her denim-covered behind a playful little slap as she entered.

"Ow!" she yelped, grinning.

"You look like a slut," I told her.

"Thank you sir," she replied proudly. However, after a moment her smile faltered a little.

"What's the matter?"

"It's nothing really, it's just..."

"Yes?"

"Well... I met that woman on the stairs, just as I was coming out of my flat. She was on her way out somewhere."

"What woman?"

"The new woman in number ten. Alison."

Ah, the delightful Miss Nash once again.

"Surely you weren't embarrassed about her catching you with nearly nothing on?" I teased. "It's none of her business, after all..."

I have to admit though I did enjoy the idea of Jane being caught in the slutty little outfit that was doubtless supposed to be for my eyes only.

"It's not that," she told me. "It's what she said."

I was definitely intrigued now.

"Oh?"

"We said hello to each other, and she introduced herself, said how she'd just moved in... Then she looked at me sort of oddly, and said – 'I hear Ian in number eleven has just bought a new video camera'. And then she... She winked at me. And told me to 'have fun'. Ian, what does she know?"

I couldn't help but laugh at the whole thing. Also, the image of Alison dropping such hints to Jane was a delicious one – I was getting some devilish thoughts about what those two girls would be like taken together... Mmmmmmm... Oddly though, I somehow couldn't quite picture Alison being the willing little submissive, not like Jane.

"She saw me coming back in with the camera this morning, after I'd bought it," I explained, trying to reassure her.

"You bought a camera especially?" Jane asked, aghast. "I thought you'd already have one..."

"No expense spared – don't worry about it, honestly. Anyway – she saw you coming in here yesterday, and you know how you were dressed then. She probably just assumes... Well, assumes that we're doing what we are – two consenting adults having fun. Does it bother you then?"

As I asked this last question I approached her, suddenly sticking my hand up between her legs under her denim skirt and feeling her roughly through the thin, skimpy panties she was wearing.

"Does it bother you?" I continued. "One of your neighbours knowing what a little slut you are? Seeing you dressed like that, and like you were yesterday, thinking what a little hussy you must be, going upstairs to befucked like a bad little girl?"

Already she was wet, and I pressed two of my fingers against her clit through the clammy material.

"I don't think it bothers you at all," I told her. "I think you love it, don't you?"

She nodded, sighing and half-closing her eyes.

"I do," she confessed.

"You do what?"

"Love it... Love being such a bad little slut..."

I removed my hand and slapped her behind again.

"No, you're still missing something bitch!"

Suddenly she remembered.

"Sir! I love being a bad little slut, sir..."

"Better."

I left her for a moment, going over to the window and drawing the blinds shut. I switched on the lights, completing our secluded little studio set-up. It occurred to me that on neither of her two previous visits to the flat for submission had I closed the blinds – some lucky enthusiastic pervert across the road could have watched it all, although I doubted it.

Picking up the video camera, I switched it on and aimed it at her, watching as she regarded it with barely-concealed excitement on her face. I placed my thumb on the record button, ready to begin our own little kinky movie.

"Ready to degrade yourself further by becoming a porn star, slut?" I asked her eagerly.

"Yes sir!" she enthused.

"Honestly, such a little whore. Whatwould your mother say?"

Instead of seeming embarrassed at this, she simply grinned. I pressed my thumb down on the button, and began to record.

"Okay then," I told her. "Here we go. You're on camera now, the star of the show. Smile for us."

She smiled and posed alluringly as I ran the camera slowly up and down her body, concentrating on her lovely legs and of course those barely-concealed breasts, which still looked red and sore from the beating they'd received the day before, as well they should. I zoomed in on them, before zooming back out a little and concentrating on her face.

"Introduce yourself, slut," I demanded. "Tell us who and what you are."

She was a natural at this, and needed little prompting. Again, I suspected that she was now at last living out one of her longest-held little fantasies, the pretence of ultimate porn star degradation.

"I'm Jane," she told the camera lustily. "And I'm a bad, bad little slut. I'm very lucky though, as I have a wonderful Master to punish me for being such a little whore and make sure I'm put in my place."

Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. I was hot and wanted her already.

"I think we should show them what a hot little slut you are," I told her. "Turn around and bend over."

She did as commanded of course, and I crouched down to get a good view with the camera as that tight little denim skirt – that couldn't possibly have been a regular part of her wardrobe, she must have purchased it specially – rode up high over her behind and exposed the damp knickers of hers, which turned out to be red. I zoomed in on the thin, wet material, the evidence of her wanton lust.

"You're so wet," I told her. "You can't even control yourself, can you slut?"

"No sir," she admitted as she stayed bent over, pretending to sound miserable about it.

"This is why you need to be punished," I explained.

"Yes sir. Thank you sir."

"You may stand."

As she stood I set the camera back down on the table, carefully making sure it was positioned and zoomed out correctly to be able to get a good view of the 'main stage' I'd elected upon. In the wall at the end of the living room, quite high up towards the ceiling, was a small metal hook. Set into one of the main beams of the building, it was quite strong enough to hold her weight – I'd already tested it myself earlier on. Usually a picture hung on it, but that had been removed and the bare hook was large enough to be able to hold a bind to tie her.

But she knew none of this yet, of course. I went and stood by the hook.

"Come here," I told her.

She followed me to the wall, looking up at once at the hook above her, knowing almost certainly what it was for. As she looked up, I looked down at her wonderful cleavage, and realised at once that the bikini top was actually the perfect bond with which to tie her, and without saying a word I moved behind her, unclipping it and letting it fall to the ground. My hands drifted around to her breasts, and she winced as I massaged her sore nipples between thumb and forefinger, pressing down against her breasts with the other parts of my hands.

"Nice?" I asked.

"Yes," she lied, pushing herself against my touch. I grinned, removing my hands and slapping her breasts quickly.

"Ouch!" she yelped.

"Quiet!" I warned her.

"Sorry sir."

I leaned down and picked up the bikini top.

"Against the wall," I told her, pushing her forward so she was facing it.

"Hands up," I added, placing my own hands under her arms to force them upwards. "Stretch."

Her wrists came up to either side of the hook – perfect. Taking the top, I placed the short linking section between the two cups over the hook, then used the straps either side to tightly bind her wrists together, leaving her hanging against the wall. She was stretched quite far, the muscles in her arms tensed and taut.

"Shoes off," I told her, looking down and seeing that her high heels were allowing her to still stand properly on the ground.

"But..."

Smack!

A firm one, no longer playful, against her backside, and having the double effect of pressing her sore breasts against the wall as she flinched forward.

"I said off!" I exclaimed, smacking her once more for good measure.

"Yes sir," she said compliantly, lifting her feet and wriggling them out of the shoes. As they fell from her feet I kicked them to one side. Without the heels the hook was just too tall for her to stand against, and she was on tiptoe, her big toes just barely touching the carpet, her body swaying just slightly. Perfect.

"Nicely strung up," I said, more to myself than to her.

"Yes sir."

There was a delight, an enjoyment in her voice. Picking up one of the ties I'd taken out of the bedroom to use on her, I placed it around her head, blindfolding her, and this time not caring how tightly I pulled it, enjoying her little gasp as I jerked it into a firm knot at the back of her head.

I left her then to walk back across the room to the camera, looking through the viewfinder to make sure I had a good view. It was perfect – the image of this beautiful woman in only her short skirt hanging against the wall, blindfolded... Oh yes, this would certainly be a home movie to savour.

"How's your backside today, slut?" I asked her as I moved back across to stand at her side.

"Sore sir," she replied.

"Does it hurt when you sit down," I asked, excited.

"Yes, sir. It's terribly uncomfortable."

"You're not complaining I hope."

She shook her head.

"Oh no sir!" she replied, with genuine feeling. "I love it sir."

"I know you do, you little bitch."

Smack!

"Oh...!"

I moved behind her and reached around to undo her skirt, pulling it apart and letting it fall to the ground. I let my fingers stay in front of her for a moment, pressed against her flesh by being between her and the wall, then sliding down to play with her again through the ever-damper material of her panties...

"Red is a very slutty colour, isn't it?" I whispered to her as I pressed her knickers against her wetness.

"Yes sir," she admitted.

"A slutty colour for a slutty girl, eh?"

She nodded again.

"Yes sir."

I thrust myself against her, still clothed, in a parody of fucking her from behind as I worked her more firmly with my fingers, and she moaned deeply, leaning back against me, still unsure of herself however as she hung from the hook, not certain of her space and how well she stood. I allowed her to enjoy the sensation of being touched for a moment or two longer before I moved my hands and hooked my fingers under the waistline of her knickers on either side of her hips, kneeling down on the floor and pulling the panties down with me, sliding them across her silky-smooth legs and off over her feet.

"Oh look," I said, looking up at her wonderful little arse. "It seems your pretty little backside matches the colour of your panties..."

"Yes sir..." she breathed, seemingly too aroused to think of much other to say than that.

I moved to the side again, eyes fixed on that burning red little backside of hers, ready to inflict some more pain on it.

Smack!

"Oh..."

Smack!

"Uh..."

"I thought I told you to be quiet?" I reminded her.

She bit her lip as I delivered further smacks, the fiery red of fresh punishment adding to the previous soreness of her cheeks. Much as she tried, however, she couldn't hold back the moans as I smacked her still further, and her breasts once more pushed against the wall.

Again though, we were simply repeating ourselves. I gave her only twenty smacks and ignored the rest of her cries.

"That should do for now, I think," I told her. "Just to remind you that you can't be a slut without expecting some punishment..."

"No sir," she whispered. Then: "Thank you for teaching me, sir."

"That's all right. Don't forget to wiggle that pretty little bottom for all your fans. They want to see how red it is."

She did as commanded, trying her best to wiggle when pinioned on a hook, pressing her backside out toward the camera as much as she could. I went back across the room and picked it up, zooming in on her backside as I moved toward her.

"Tell us how it feels," I told her.

"It stings horribly," she confessed.

"But it excites you, doesn't it?"

"Oh yes. I love it... It..."

"Go on."

"It makes me wet, sir."

"You really are such a hopeless little slut, aren't you?"

"Yes sir."

"You don't even care that all the viewers are going to see how you were punished, had your bottom spanked like a little girl, trussed up there, helpless. In fact, that excites you even more, doesn't it?"

"It... It excites me that they think I'm such a little whore, sir."

In all likelihood the only ever audience for the tape would be the two of us, of course, but the imaginary future audience had become a part of this particular game now, making it more exhilarating for both of us.

I placed the camera down again, this time in a new position on the side of the sofa, propping it up with a book under the front of it, aiming it carefully to make sure it took in a lovely close-up shot of the main of her body, from her head down to her knees, this time from the side-on angle.

"This is the part of our little film I think our viewers are really going to enjoy," I told her delicately.

Another item I had brought through from my room when preparing for the filming earlier in the day was one of her vibrators – the lurid green and gold one, as it was larger. This I picked up now, moving behind her.

"Spread your legs."

Spreading them meant that even her big toes no longer touched the ground, and she was left swinging from the hook, even more beautifully desperate and helpless than she had been before. As she gently swung there, I moved the vibrator up between her legs, nuzzling the tip of it against her damp sex, without switching it on.

"You know what this is?" I asked her.

"My vibrator sir?"

"See how the slut knows the barest touch of it so well?" I pointed out to the camera. "You've gotten so used to fucking yourself silly with it, haven't you?"

"Yes sir..."

"Wasting all your energy stuffing this up yourself in your bed, allowing yourself countless orgasms, you dirty little girl."

"I'm sorry sir."

"Yes, well, sorry isn't good enough. You're going to pay for it now."

Suddenly, I slid the vibrator up into her, as far as it would go, only the last inch or so sticking out between her legs. There was a dial on the bottom controlling the speed – I turned it a little anti-clockwise, feeling it give and click as it switched on, on the very lowest setting. It rumbled slowly and deeply inside her, and she gasped. She doubtless wondered how on Earth this was any form of payment or punishment. Well, she didn't know the half of it yet. She gave out a low, guttural moan of satisfaction.

"Close your legs," I told her, holding the vibrator in place with a single finger pushed up against the base as I stood back up. She obeyed, locking the vibrator in place as her thighs closed around it. Doubtless it could still slip out, however, so I warned her:

"Tense your muscles around it. I'm going to take my finger away from it, and if it slides out there'll be hell to pay. You understand?"

"Y... Yes sir," she gasped, clearly becoming rapidly more and more aroused, the very base stages of her orgasm building as the toy continued to vibrate gently inside of her. I removed my finger, and the vibrator slid out just a little, but her tensed muscles – which also wonderfully firmed up her behind all of a sudden – were enough to keep it in place.

"Good girl," I told her.

I picked up her panties again, sliding them back over her feet and pulling them up her legs, fitting them snugly back over her backside.

"Now, let go."

As I had hoped, the elastic of her knickers was tight enough to keep them up while holding the weight of the vibrator – the very fact that her legs were closed helped to keep it inside of her anyway. Now it was firmly held there, there was no way it could fall out, and still it worked its wonderfully terrible magic on her.

"I do hope you're not thinking of having an orgasm," I warned her darkly as I stood to the side of her furthest from the camera.

"I... I can't help it sir!" she gasped desperately.

"Well you'll just have to. I shall tell you what's going to happen. I'm going to spank you, very hard, twenty times. You needn't bother counting, we won't be concerned with that today. You can make all the noise you want. You just have to bear it, and make sure you don't climax while I'm spanking you. Even when I'm finished you may not, but you have to take the twenty spanks to make sure you get your reward, you understand?"