"Simon annoys me so much sometimes," she said angrily. "I just want to give him a good spanking."
He grinned. "He'd probably enjoy it if you did."
She laughed, but then looked more serious. "Simon is not into anything like that," she said sadly.
"Obviously it runs in the family," he told her. "Jane's not interested in that sort of thing either."
"She doesn't like being spanked?" Carol asked.
"No, I didn't mean that, although she probably doesn't. I meant that she won't play any of those sort of games, like being dominant or anything."
Carol nodded. "They're all the same, that family. None of them are into anything out of the ordinary. It's such a pity. There's so many things I'd like to do."
There was silence. He wondered whether the same thought had just gone through her head as went through his. He looked at her, trying to read her thoughts.
They both spoke at exactly the same moment. "I don't suppose..."
They both stopped, waiting for the other to finish.
"Finish what you were going to say," she said.
"It's OK," he told her, "You first."
"It was silly," she said, looking away from him and clearly embarrassed. "It wasn't important."
"I don't mind if it's silly," he encouraged her. "You can say whatever you like."
She looked straight into his eyes, as though trying to see into his mind.
"I was only joking," she said. "I was just going to say that if my husband doesn't like it and your wife doesn't like it..."
"Yes?" he said, knowing exactly what she was trying to say but wanting her to say it first.
"And if I like it and you like it..." she continued, tailing off without actually saying it.
"I do," he confirmed. "At least, I think I would if I tried it, but I've never tried it."
"Haven't you?" she said in surprise. "I have. A long time ago, long before I was married. I still have all the stuff, although there is some of it I haven't ever used. He likes me to wear some of the clothes, but he's not in the slightest interested in the rest of it."
"What sort of stuff?" he asked, fascinated.
"Oh, lots of things," she said vaguely. She looked away from him again. "Do you want to see it?"
"It would be interesting." He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice.
"It's all in the loft except for my clothes," she said. "I don't think I can get it all out now."
His disappointment was obvious, but she did not comment. "I don't suppose you would really like it if someone dominated you properly," she said. "If you haven't actually done it then you really don't know."
"It's an exciting idea," he confessed. She looked downwards briefly. He was not entirely sure what she looked at. He thought for a moment that she had looked at the front of his trousers to see if he was 'excited', but then he thought it was only his imagination. 'Wishful thinking,' he told himself.
"So you think you would like a woman causing you pain?" she asked. "You'd like to be tied up and helpless while some woman whips you and hurts you?"
"Is that what you used to do?" he asked in awe, without answering her question.
"I had one boyfriend who let me do that to him," she admitted. "And a lot more."
"Really? What else?"
She had turned a rosy pink. "I'm not telling you," she said firmly. "I'd be too embarrassed. Let's just say he was tied to the bed for a lot of the time we were together."
He laughed, a little nervously, and hoping she did not glance down again.
"You didn't answer my question," she said a little sharply. "Is that what you like?"
He now felt himself blushing. "I find it an exciting thought," he admitted. "I'm not too sure about being whipped or hurt too much."
"You'd just like a woman tying you up and controlling you?" she asked. "A bit of pain goes with that, you know. And if you are tied up, you don't have a lot of choice."
"Anyway," she continued briskly, "There's no time now. I have work to do. If you want to see the things I have in the loft then you'll need to come round when I have more time."
"OK," he said, suddenly feeling intensely disappointed. He prepared to leave.
"Tomorrow," she said suddenly. "Make it about ten o'clock. I'll have plenty of time then."
"All right," he agreed. "I'll be here.
He was more than a little nervous when he rang the front door bell at exactly ten o'clock.
For a moment he thought she was out, then the door opened and he was surprised to see that she was wearing her coat.
"Sorry," he said apologetically. "I didn't realise you were going out. I should have phoned to confirm I was coming round."
"Don't be silly," she said. "Come in. Don't hang about on the doorstep."
She ushered him inside, and dropped her own coat on the floor just inside the door.
"I thought it better that no one else could see what I was wearing," she explained.
He gaped. She wore a tight one-piece outfit made from shiny black material. She had a wide leather belt around her waist, and knee-length black boots with high heels. The effect was startling, and immediately he felt his arousal growing. Hastily he turned away and adjusted his trousers, pretending there was something about to fall out of his pocket.
She laughed aloud. "There's no need to pretend," she said. "I know the effect this outfit has on most men, whether or not they like the dominant implications of it. Simon just loves it, although I wear it without the insert for him."
She indicated the area between her legs. He could see the rows of studs holding a removable patch in place. Like the rest of the outfit, it fitted her very tightly and clung to her body as though it was a part of her. The contours and even the details of every part of her were clearly visible, and the removable patch seemed to disappear right into her. He could not help staring.
"Behave yourself," she told him with mock severity. She picked up a riding crop from the little table in the hallway and waved it in his direction. "Or I'll have to whip you."
She laughed again as she said it, but there was something just a little threatening in her laughter.
"Sorry," he said apologetically. "It's a very nice outfit. I didn't expect you to be wearing anything like that. It's just a bit of a shock, that's all."
She took no notice of his apology. "So, do you want to see all my stuff? I got it all down from the loft this morning. There was more than I thought. It's been a long time since I used any of it. I put it all in the bedroom. I haven't had time to sort it out properly."
"Yes, I'd like to see it," he said, trying to keep his voice normal.
"Come on then." She turned and started up the stairs. He followed, looking up at her and unable to keep his eyes off the tight, black material covering her rear and showing every movement of her muscles and her flesh as she walked.
She had not turned round or looked at him, and she had nearly reached the top of the stairs when she spoke. "I'll have to give you a spanking if you keep looking at me like that."
"I wasn't," he protested.
She whirled round, so suddenly that he almost lost his balance and fell backward down the stairs.
"How weren't you looking at me?" she demanded.
He stuttered. "I... I..." There was no sensible answer he could think of.
"There's nothing you'd like better," she said, staring down at him, "Than to put your face right up between my legs right now, is there?"
"You're very exciting," he admitted. "I mean, your outfit is very exciting."
"Careful what you say," she warned him. "You could get yourself into serious trouble saying things like that to your sister-in-law."
"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean..."
"Yes you did," she interrupted. "All men are the same. You see a woman wearing something unusual and you can't wait to try and get her to bed."
"Never mind," she went on. "We're here to have a look at some of my things from the loft, aren't we? Come on. Don't hang about on the stairs."
She turned and strode towards the bedroom. He followed rather sheepishly.
"Here we are," she said, waving her hand in a regal sweep that took in the whole room. "It's all here."
He gazed at her collection. "I thought you said you didn't have time to sort it properly?" he said.
It was all laid out. The bed had broad straps right around the mattress near the top and the bottom, and to these there were leather cuffs attached. In the corner of the room was a large frame with tie points all the way up its two crossing slats. Whips and paddles lay ready for use.
"I haven't sorted half of it yet," she said, kicking a large cardboard box. She bent down and removed a device from the box.
"I had forgotten I had this," she said thoughtfully. "I don't think I have ever used it."
"What is it?" he asked curiously.
"It's a ball crusher," she told him, waving it at him. "It goes round your balls and then I tighten it until you scream. Then I tighten it some more. Shall we try it?"
"No thanks," he said, backing away. "That's far too painful. I don't want my balls crushed!"
"I'm not at all sure you want to be dominated at all," she said. "It's all about pain and torture, isn't it? If you don't want the pain then you stay away from dominant women."
"No," he argued, "It's not like that. You can dominate without doing damage, and without causing absolute agony. You can tie your man to the bed so he can't move and then make love to him or whatever. You don't have to hurt him like that."
"I can't tie my man to the bed at all," she reminded him. "He won't do anything like that."
"Yes," he agreed, "You said."
"So..." she walked towards him waving the riding crop. "I'll tie you to the bed instead. That's what excites you and why you came here, isn't it? You had this fantasy that I might tie you up and dominate you."
He backed away. "I don't think so," he told her uncertainly. "I'm not letting you use your ball crusher on me!"
"I won't use that," she promised. "Let's just see what it would be like. I want to tie someone up and you want to be tied up. Let's try it, and see what happens."
"And I'll end up going home smelling of your perfume," he said, having just caught a strong whiff of scent from her. "That would not be good."
"You can have a shower afterwards," she suggested.
"It will be in my clothes and everywhere," he pointed out.
She stamped her foot impatiently. "Of course it won't. You're going to take your clothes off, aren't you? I can't dominate you properly with all your clothes on!"
"Oh..." It had not actually occurred to him she might want him to take his clothes off. At once he found himself excited by the prospect of being naked with her, even more excited than when he had first seen her in her outfit.
"THAT," she flicked the front of his trousers with the end of the crop, "Says it all. Get them off. Right now. THAT is being quite bad enough for a bit of punishment!"
Still he hesitated. Despite his desire for a dominant woman, he felt more than a little unsettled at the way she was controlling and telling him what to do.
She was standing right in front of him. She cupped her hand under one of her breasts, accentuating it even more than the tight, shiny material did already.
"You can't resist it, can you?" she told him. "Get your clothes off and you'll be able to feel me through my outfit. I promise you, this will be an experience of a lifetime."
Her hand was on the front of his shirt, fumbling with the buttons. He brushed her away, and she slapped his leg with the crop.
"Get them off," she insisted, raising the crop threateningly but with a smile and a glint in her eyes.
He took off his shirt.
"And the rest."
He turned his back on her as he removed his trousers and pants.
"Turn round," she instructed, aiming a stinging blow at his buttocks with the crop. He yelped.
She folded her arms and tapped her foot as he stood with his hands in front of him. She said nothing for nearly a minute, and he too stood in silence and deep embarrassment.
"I'm waiting," she said at last, "For you to take your hands away from in front of you. For every second you keep me waiting, I'm adding one minute of extra pain for you. And if we run out of time today, I'll find another occasion to cause you pain."
"This is a bit silly," he told her.
"No," she corrected him. "This is the game you wanted to play. It's the game of domination and submission. I dominate, you submit. I cause you pain, you suffer. I humiliate you, you undergo humiliation and embarrassment. Got it? Now put your hands on your head before I get really cross with you."
Hesitantly he raised his hands and put them on his head.
She nodded. "Better. Now keep them there and don't move until I tell you."
She walked round him as if inspecting him. Without warning she raised the crop and brought it down hard onto his hardness. He squealed and immediately grabbed his genitals in both hands.
"I didn't tell you to take your hands off your head," she shouted at him. "Get them up. NOW."
Reluctantly he raise his hands to his head once more, knowing that she would slap him again with the crop and flinching in anticipation as she walked round him.
When it came it was harder then the last time. Again he brought his hands down as he howled with pain.
"Hands UP," she ordered. "How dare you defy me?"
He stood there, hands on his head and his hardness throbbing. Nervously he watched her circling him.
"It's no good," she decided. "You're not going to be able to do what you're told, are you?"
It did not need an answer. He knew it, and remained silent.
"On the bed," she ordered. "On your back."
She pushed him. He fell backwards onto the bed and in a moment she was on top of him, slapping him with the crop until he was positioned in the very centre of the bed. She gasped his wrists and one at a time she attached them to the leather cuffs on the wide band around the mattress. She did the same with his ankles, spreading his legs wide apart.
"You can't move now, can you?" she asked him. "You're mine to do with whatever I like. There will be no putting your hands round your cock now when I use my crop on it, will there?"
"Don't." he said. "Please don't."
"But you're finding exciting," she insisted. "Look at it."
She pushed his hardness backwards and forwards with the end of the crop. He groaned.
"You'd love me to play with it for you, wouldn't you?" she sneered at him. "There's almost nothing you'd like better than to feel my hands on it instead of my crop. How would you like that, eh? My hands caressing you, rubbing and squeezing?"
She watched the twitching of his hardness as she spoke, and saw the fear in his eyes when she mentioned her crop. She knew she could do anything she wanted to him, and that knowledge gave her a thrill she had not known for many years.
She sat on his chest, concentrating on the expression on his face. "So?" she asked. "Tell me. Do you want me to touch you, to play with you? Or is there something you want more than that?"
"Please..." he begged.
"What?" It was a game to her. She was determined to make him say it.
"Please..." he said again.
"Please what? You want me to hit you with my crop? You want me to play with you? Or you want something else? Tell me."
She slid herself a little further up his chest, her knees now either side of his head. He was staring straight between her thighs, into the dark area of her groin and straight at the removable patch held in place by the rows of press-studs.
"Please..." he said a third time.
"What?" She slid even further forward, until her thighs pressed on the sides of his face and the patch touched his chin.
He raised his head as much as he could, and planted a big kiss right between her legs.
She nodded in satisfaction. "Yes," she said. "I know that's what you want. The question is, how do you want it?"
"Take that patch off," he said eagerly. "Like you do for him. And..."
"And sit on your face until you suffocate," she interrupted. "I thought of that. Yes, I'd enjoy that."
"No!" he moaned. "Just do it. You know what I want."
She reached behind her and slapped his hardness with the crop. "I know what you want," she said. "But it's not quite what you're going to get."
He groaned. It was as much with frustration as it was with the discomfort that the slap with the crop had just caused him.
"You see," she said with a strange smile, "I don't need to take off the patch to do it."
"What?" He did not understand.
"Look," she told him. "Look carefully."
He looked, but had no idea what she was talking about.
"Are you stupid?" she asked, slapping his face. "Or just blind? Can't you see? Can't you see the sheath, built into that patch, already in me."
Her outfit was so tight, and the patch between her legs so moulded to the contours of her body that he had not noticed. Now she mentioned it he could see it clearly.
"Right," she said. "Now you know, so I need to prepare you."
She jumped from him and rummaged through the cardboard box. She slipped a tight ring over his hardness, pressing it down to the base.
"That will help," she told him. "It will help keep your hardness the way I like it."
"I don't need that," he replied indignantly.
"You will," she said, "And this."
She produced a spray can and squirted a sticky liquid over his genitals. He gasped. It was cold, and within a few seconds he was tingling and itching.
"Aaagh," he groaned. "Get it off. It's awful. It's hurting me."
"No it's not," she said firmly. "It might irritate a bit, but once it soaks in properly it will keep you completely rigid no matter what. Believe me, you'll need it. Also, it provides a bit of lubrication, and you will certainly need that."
She waited for several minutes, watching him squirm and struggle against his bonds. The irritation was driving him crazy.
"Ready?" she asked.
She did not wait for an answer. Carefully pulling the sides of the sheath apart, she guided herself over his hardness and descended onto it until he was all the way inside her. She let go and sat upright on him.
At once he yelped and then squealed. "That HURTS. What is it? Why does it hurt? Get off me. umph...."
The last exclamation was cut off as she leaned forward and forced a gag into his mouth. She buckled straps around the back of his head to hold it in place.
"This is just a start," she told him. "However uncomfortable you find this, you have much worse to come when you come back."
He was shaking his head frantically. As soon as she let him go, he was quite determined that he would never let her put him in a position like this again.
She laughed softly. "Ah but you will come back," she said with total conviction. "You have no choice. You would not risk me telling your wife, would you? I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that she would never believe me, or that I would not dare because of what my husband would say."
She leaned back and rocked herself backward and forward a few times, gripping and squeezing as she moved. He squealed through his gag.
"Hush," she said softly. "The noise won't help. No one can hear it except me. The gag muffles it more than enough, and I won't stop until I finish. Screaming only makes it worse. You should try and enjoy it, because there is nothing you can do to stop me."
"As I was saying," she continued, "You will be back. If not, I'll tell your wife I caught you doing nasty things with some of my clothes when you were supposed to be fixing my computer, and that I lost my temper with you. I'll tell her that's how you got all the cuts and abrasions to your nasty little bits, so she will know it's true and that I'm not making it up. She only has to look at your poor little bits to know it's true."
She raised and lowered herself a few times on him. He squealed again.