The Craftsman Ch. 06

Those of you who have read any of my previous stories know my 'history' and what led me to the career I now enjoy. In short, my grandfather was a master craftsman in leather, and always hoped I would follow in his footsteps, but it wasn't to be, although he left me all his tools when he died. They remained stored away for quite a few years, largely forgotten. However, a chance meeting with a lady friend who told me it was difficult to find the right kind of leather harness for her interest in Fetish and BDSM, led me to offer to make something, or at least try.

Although I hadn't followed in his footsteps, he had, over the course of my childhood and teenage years passed on much of his knowledge to me, so after a few trial and error efforts with the aforementioned lady friend, who put down her ideas on paper with me following her sketches, we produced something that she was very happy with. Of course, her fittings for the 'made to measure harness,' meant, a great deal of close intimate contact with a beautiful woman, who made no secret that she found the process extremely exciting and arousing, as did I. A fact we both took full advantage of.

Now, just over a year later, thanks to her wearing and showing off her harness, and other items I made for her when she went to private fetish clubs, parties and bars, here I am with my own business, making bespoke items in leather for the Fetish/BDSM community. I started off making the occasional item for her friends, and soon I was making more money part time, than I earned in my normal 'day-job.' So, I found a small shop in a quiet, discreet back street with plenty of parking nearby, and best of all, a reasonably spacious flat 'above the shop' where I could live, and set up in business. It went from strength to strength, by word of mouth, and soon I was doing very nicely thank you.

I only catered and created for women, and since most of the women were high class and very, very horny, sometimes I got to be very, very lucky. Yes, I sold 'bought in,' fetish gear for men too, which helped me cash in on another revenue stream, but my own made to measure, exclusive items were for women only.

One day, I had just sold some bondage restraints to a gentleman who was a new customer, and as I gave him his change and receipt, he asked me why I only offered a made to measure service for women and not to men.

'Quite simple sir,' I replied, 'measuring and making these items is a very personal business, and I'm not comfortable dealing with gentlemen on such intimate terms. However if you have a wife or partner who would like me to make something for her, then you are welcome to come along with her to see the measuring process.' He seemed interested in that proposition, thanked me and left, and I thought that's the last I'd see of him.

A week or so later, a woman phoned and asked to make an appointment for a fitting, adding that her husband had been into the shop the previous week. Usually these kind of thing don't materialise or have any follow through, just a male fantasy, but occasionally they actually have a wife or partner, and this turned out to be one of them. I was surprised, but acted very blasé, as if this kind of thing happened all the time.

They arrived bang on time, and I showed them into the back room, which I pretentiously called the "Consulting Room.' He was in his fifties I estimated and judging by his voice, air of quiet confidence, and manners, very well off. She was, I estimated, in her very early forties, with a slim figure to die for, very classy, with sleek, dark, beautifully cut hair, and a face which was quite simply, beautiful. I showed them photos of various items in my sample book, harnesses and so on of the type and design that I had already made for previous customers, and eventually we whittled it down to a choice of two. She couldn't make up her mind, whereupon he suggested she have both, and she seemed delighted with his suggestion, and so to the measuring.

She seemed not the slightest bit bothered when I said that she'd need to undress at least to her lingerie for the fitting, remember what I said about, 'intimate?' She quickly unzipped her dress, let it fall of her shoulders to reveal no bra and the nicest pair of titties I'd seen for at least a week, with small dark areola and hard, brownish nipples. Not big, somewhere between a large A to small B cup, but beautifully shaped and firm looking. I complimented her on her figure, she smiled and thanked me, letting the dress fall to the floor and stepping out of it. She folded it carefully and handed it to him. She was wearing panties so small and flimsy they hardly seemed worth the bother, but on her they looked gorgeous. They were the kind of panties whose sole purpose was to be removed by, or for a partner, and she asked if she should take them off, so I told her not for this first one, but they'd have to go for the second, so she kept them on for the time being.

I measured her back and front, top and bottom, and as we proceeded her pale cheeks began to take on a light flush, and she shivered from time to time as I invariably touched her skin. She was horny, and enjoying the measuring process. She spread her legs a little to let me measure from her belly button, down, under and round to her back. As my fingers brushed lightly against the flimsy panties, she gasped and then quietly moaned with pleasure. Her husband laughed and asked if she was enjoying it, she nodded, but said nothing, blushing a little. I quietly told her not be embarrassed, she was doing just great, and I was almost finished my measurements for this one. She thanked me just as quietly, but the tension was broken, and she relaxed very much into the process, but still obviously highly turned on.

I asked if she wanted a break before we started measuring the next outfit, but she shook her head and so we went straight from the first to the second fitting, but this one was a different kettle of fish altogether. The major difference was it involved two straps passing through between her legs on either side of her labia, entirely exposing her pussy, which I could see even with her tiny panties still on, was shaved, and very smooth. When she removed the panties designed for removal, her labia were wet and open, pouting beautifully and now that the panties were off, I could see that she had the most wonderful protruding labia. A little of her natural essence had escaped the panties and was trickling in a viscous globule onto the right thigh - she was very, very wet. Now that those panties were off, she gave up pretending and moaned and gasped with every measurement I took. I was down on my knees in front of her, my body between her and her husband, so he couldn't see what was going on, but he could hear that she was out of control. Taking a chance that she'd like it, I rubbed my thumb back and forth across her prominent clitoris, and she lost it.

'Oh Charles,' she gasped at her husband sounding absolutely frantic, 'I'm going to come.' Looking down at me she spread her legs wider, legs quivering with excitement, and tilted her pelvis forward, 'offering,' her pussy to me, she pleaded, 'help me please.' I looked round at her husband, and he nodded his approval, so I slipped two fingers between those gorgeous pussy lips and licked her clitoris as she rubbed herself against my face. I don't know if it really added that much to her orgasm, she was already well on her way, but I enjoyed 'helping' her out.

Once she had calmed down a bit, we finished the measuring session, and she got dressed. He paid a generous deposit, the balance on completion, and I escorted them to the door, which was locked. I always lock the door when dealing with a client. He shook my hand as he left, and said he could see that the measuring process was indeed very intimate, and we laughed together. She thanked me and reaching up on tip toes, kissed my cheek, smiled at me and just before she turned away, winked at me conspiratorially, saying she could hardly wait to come back again. Another 'satisfied' customer I thought.

I was working later that evening when the door-bell rang. The shop was closed, and it was long past what might be considered 'normal' working hours, but rather than ignore it I went to see who it might be - it was her, my client from earlier that day. I knew exactly what the problem was and opened the door for her, and she came in, watching me as I locked the door again behind her. I said nothing, we both knew exactly why she was here as I led her through to the consulting room again, she took off her coat then her blouse and skirt, she wore nothing else except her high-heel shoes.

'Oh fuck,' she eventually gasped out, 'I'm on fire, I'm so fucking horny, help me again... please,' she added breathlessly.

'Where's your husband I asked?'

'He's at some fucking Rotary Club meeting, or something, who cares,' and she came for me, hands scrabbling at my belt. I grabbed her hands, crushing her fingers, and she winced.

'Beg me,' I said, knowing it would only make her all the more eager. 'Tell me what you want and what you want me to do.'

'I want you to fuck me, treat me like a horny slut,' she begged. 'Tell me I'm a whore, slap me, spank me, but please, please, please, give me your fingers and cock. Make me come like I came this afternoon, fuck me... please.' She got down on her knees, and this time I let her unbuckle my belt, fish my cock out of my underpants and suck me. She was not a novice, she knew how to suck cock, and I watched her beautiful mouth engulf my knob, her red lipstick contrasting dramatically with the paleness of my skin as her head bobbed back and forth, her wonderful eyes scanning my face to reassure herself I was enjoying it. I was, but I stopped her almost immediately, pulling her roughly to her feet and over to the table. I laid her face down over the edge and without any further preliminaries spread her legs, rubbed my knob along the crevice of her labia, wetting it with her juice to help my entry and worked him deeper into her eager pussy hole. She was so aroused, she came almost immediately before I was even in her fully, screaming and pushing back hard against my invading cock, eager for more. I reached forward and pulled the immaculate hair as she came, and she screamed out, 'Yes, yes, yes, oh god, yes,' so I pulled even harder and smacked her truly delightful arse really hard with the other hand. As her orgasm subsided I abruptly pulled out of her, and she begged me not to stop.

'Stay there cunt, don't fucking move,' I warned her. She nodded obediently, and I went through into the darkened shop, returning in a moment. I went over to her and got down between her legs, looking at the glorious pussy. It was twitching, drooling and dribbling, the insides of her slim thighs soaked with her wetness. Saying nothing, I rammed into her again... hard. She squealed with delight, and just then I brought the thick leather paddle I'd gone to fetch across her arse. She screamed, and after that there's only one word for it. I fucked her, ramming into her soft wetness, because I knew that was what she wanted. I reamed out her feminine delight and pulled her hair viciously, as I laid the heavy stinging paddle mercilessly across her shapely bottom. She came again, and then again as I relentlessly ploughed into her eager furrow, and then I was coming too, spurting, jerking my come deep into her depths. She came once more just as my cock began to wilt, and as she came down from the last tremor of her orgasm, I slipped from her and watched as my come dripped and oozed from her open, pussy.

She eventually levered herself off the table looking a bit stiff and sore. She came to me, into my arms, and I kissed her tenderly and thanked her for coming back to see me. She looked up at me, those wonderful eyes threatening to spill over.

'On no, there's no need,' she protested. 'I must thank you for giving me such a wonderful time. It was just perfect and so fucking exciting, so... erotic,' she tried to explain. 'I loved every second.' I helped her dress, and we went back into the darkened store. Just before I unlocked the door, she came into my arms and kissed me passionately, hungrily, before whispering 'thank you' again. She slipped out of the door, and was gone.

I knew I'd see her again soon. She had an order to collect after all, but I also knew that she'd be back simply because she wanted to, and had a need for more. Next time I must remember to ask for her first name. I only knew her as Mrs A.......

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