Tonight, I Shall Be Called Scarlett

Tonight, I Shall Be Called Scarlett

I have not written a specifically fetish-driven story since 'The Third Time', my first ever publication on Lit a few years ago. In that time I have been trying to get back to the genre to scratch a few itches I have built up over the years.

After trying and failing a few times, this one popped up almost unbidden as I struggled with two much longer stories that I have been working on for months. Typical - some can take months others take a mere four days.

For those of a nervous disposition, the main focus is smoking fetish, but there is some pegging and references to golden showers.

All in the best possible taste of course and all participants are willing and over the age of 18.

One - Him

It was a pleasant early spring day as I left home. I hadn't bothered with breakfast - a coffee and pain au chocolat awaited in the pretty little market town a ten-minute train ride down the river. It was a nice way to start the weekend - a bit of a lie in, a gentle stroll from the station, a leisurely coffee then maybe a couple of pints at lunchtime.

I loved walking the approach into town from the station, along the gentle bend of the river with majestic swans and dabbling ducks galore. Soon there would be cygnets and ducklings to enliven the scene as spring really took hold.

I was feeling very relaxed as I crossed the little green suspension bridge into the town centre and headed for the Market Square. There was usually a Farmer's Market on a Saturday and there was some nice produce to be had. Maybe a little bit of cheese and a few local ales to take home with me later.

It was as I perused the bakery stall that I saw her. It was the sheer black leggings that attracted me. Those and the knee-length boots she wore over them. The stretch fabric hugged and defined her shapely bottom and it took me a while to move my gaze from her posterior to take in the rest of her.

She had a slightly arrogant looking face - haughty and aloof, as if there was a smell somewhere that offended her long, aquiline nose. She put a finger to her lips as she pondered over her purchases and I felt an involuntary little tingle run through me.

I was distracted for a moment when the stall owner asked me if there was anything she could help me with. I made my apologies and as I turned back, the woman had disappeared.

Disappointed, I made my way around a few other stalls when I saw a flash of ash-blonde hair two rows from where I stood. Keeping a discrete distance, I followed her, taking care not to be too obvious, stopping when she stopped and window shopping for things I had no intention of buying.

Despite the way she dressed, she was no teenager. However, the attire suited her and she had the figure and looks to pull it off. I am not a great judge of age, but going by my mother in her early forties, I'd have put this woman a few years younger - forty at the outside.

I certainly like girls of my own age, but there is something about a sexy older woman that does it for me. This lady was doing it in spades.

Mine were not the only eyes upon her as she made her way around the stalls and she seemed well-acquainted with many of the stall owners.

She would certainly have no need for lunch, given the number of samples she tried. Cheeses, slivers of butcher's sausages, Spanish hams, olives. She even had a taster at the microbrewery stall and I was impressed when the stall owner put aside a sampler case for her to pick up later.

When she smiled, that haughty look faded and it took years off her. She was spectacular to begin with but when that wide mouth parted and her eyes sparkled, I could have taken her for my own age - twenty-one.

I had traipsed around after her for almost ten minutes when we approached the end of the last aisle. The stall she made for was full of fancy cakes. It was my last chance to get a closer look, so I made my way over, pretending to be interested in cup-cakes and fondants whilst really trying to get a better view of this amazing vision.

I stood next to her as she pondered, half turned away from me. She was quite tall and slim and the leggings and boots accentuated her long, lean legs. I tried to imagine those boots sliding over my shoulders, her wide nostrils flaring as I touched her down below for the first time. That wide, arrogant mouth opening to accommodate me as her grey eyes locked onto mine.

As if sensing my gaze on her, she looked me straight in the eye and I felt myself reddening up as lust turned to embarrassment.

"Sorry, should I know you?"

It came out in a disdainful drawl, every bit as arrogant and haughty as her look.

I tried to bluster it out. "Sorry - is this your stall? I just- "

I got no further as she shook her head dismissively, a pained expression on her face.

"My stall? Really? Oh give it a rest will you, little boy?"

She walked off muttering to herself, her long ponytail tossing as she avoided the crowds flocking into the market and disappeared once again into the busy town centre.

Feeling a little foolish, I decided to go and get my coffee. As it was a warm day, I took it outside to the roped-off area on the edge of the Square.

As I made my way to an empty table, I saw her sitting by herself, sipping on a cappuccino, tapping away at a tablet. Despite her rejection, I couldn't resist myself.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

She never even looked up.

"No."

As I sat, she reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. She lit one and exhaled luxuriously. Never taking her eyes from her tablet, she spoke again.

"I said it wasn't taken, which is true. I didn't say you could take it."

I swallowed hard. "Apologies, I just thought- "

Again she cut me off. "Don't think - act. Do me a favour please?"

"Yes, what?"

"Fuck off and leave me to enjoy just about the only quiet time in my fucking hectic week."

"Look, ok I'm sorry, I'll-

She cut me off for the third time, this time looking at me through narrowed eyes. "You still here?"

As I stood, muttering more apologies, she took another mouthful of smoke and blew it in my direction, fluttering her fingers sarcastically. "Bye!"

After that, my coffee tasted bitter and my pain au chocolat was like eating cardboard. I was glad I was sitting down as the effect she had on me was clearly visible. She had long gone before I had the courage to get up and by that time I needed that first pint very badly. I also needed something else rather badly, but that would need to wait. I wasn't going to risk getting caught doing it in a pub toilet, no matter how desperate I felt.

I walked into the Griffin just off the Square and ordered myself a pint of my favourite local ale and took it out into the beer garden. Another sign that spring was in the air - the first outdoor pint of the year. I was just about to sit down at an empty table when I heard an angry voice behind me.

"Fucking hell, are you fucking stalking me or what?"

I turned to see her sitting there, a pint of lager in one hand, a cigarette in the other. She was now wearing sunglasses, so at least I couldn't see those two grey lasers burning into me.

She took a pull on the cigarette. "Getting a bit of a habit, no?"

I put my beer down. "Look, sorry - it's a small town. Easy to bump into people."

She sneered. "Yeah, like hell it is. Why the fuck are you following me?"

I was hopeless at lying and usually reddened up at the drop of a hat. "No, I'm not, honestly. Just came in for a quiet pint before heading home. Nothing deliberate, I promise!"

That seemed to placate her somewhat. "Ok, I believe you, though I daresay thousands wouldn't. In that case, drink your drink and head home like a good little lad. I'm going for a manicure next. If I see you in the beauty salon on King Street or looking in through the window, I'll kick you so hard between the legs, your bollocks will double as a bow-tie. Make myself clear?"

"Perfectly."

My quiet pint turned to a very quick one. Of course, I had to pass close by her table to leave. She looked up from her tablet, taking a long pull on her cigarette.

"I shall be in the rose-garden of the Langdon Hotel at five o'clock for my usual pre-dinner gin and tonic. If you are there, I will consider it to be a deliberate act and cannot guarantee that the consequences will not be devastating. Are we clear on that as well?"

I drew in air. "Yes, very clear."

It was half past one. I went to another pub and nursed two very slow pints. Every time I heard the church clock chime a quarter-hour, I thought of just running home with my tail between my legs but instead, I counted them down, until at last at four forty-five, I drained the dregs of my now stale beer.

I was about to commit a very deliberate act and prayed that the consequences would be devastating.

My heart was in my mouth as I approached the Langdon. It was a very posh and expensive pile in its own grounds - practically an extension of the town park. I had never been in and hoped my attire would be fitting. The sheer number and variety of stars and awards on the signboards out front gave testament to the opulence of the place. I was completely out of my comfort zone and very out of my depth.

She was sitting alone at a table at the far end of the garden; a pretty walled-off affair alongside the main hotel. I approached and was about to try my opening gambit from the coffee shop when she looked up. She rolled her eyes and blew out a plume of smoke from her inevitable cigarette.

"Oh fuck, here we go then. I might have known. Right on time, my little stalker."

She had one booted foot on the chair opposite, lounging languidly as if she owned the place. There was a flash of red leather as she removed it and tucked it back out of sight beneath the table.

She gestured at the seat. "No, it's not taken. Park your arse - it's obvious I'm not going to get rid of you that easily."

As I sat, she spoke to someone over my shoulder. "Hendricks and tonic please, Friedrich - large." She gestured to me. "And?"

I'd had enough beer. "Yes, the same thanks."

The bow-tied waiter nodded. "Coming up, madam."

His next word was a sneer in my direction. "Sir..."

As he left, she held up her long, elegant fingers, now tipped with blood-red talons. "Nice little manicure, eh? At least you didn't follow me in there."

I thought of the waiter's bow tie and shuddered.

I held my hand out to her. "Luke. Luke Turner."

She thought for a moment, ignoring my hand. "Roxanne. Roxanne deBeauvoir-Smyth... the Second. You can call me Roxy."

I laughed. "Yeah, right, Roxy. You made that up."

She shrugged. "Aren't all names made up? Someone gave me a name thirty-nine years ago and I fucking hate it, so I changed it."

"From what to what?"

She pulled on her cigarette and stubbed it out. "From? You ain't gonna get to know. To? Whatever I fucking-well feel like at the time."

The waiter returned with the drinks and there was a hiatus as we drank and raised glasses and she lit another cigarette. She pushed the packet towards me.

"No thanks, I don't smoke."

I may not smoke, but I love watching women smoke, especially beautiful ones.

"So what do you 'fucking-well' feel like being called like today?"

"I have no fucking idea - you tell me."

"Daisy?"

"Daisy? Fucking Daisy? Far too flowery and girly for me, lover-boy. Try again."

"Sorry - I thought it matched that lovely dress you've changed into."

She glanced down at the deep-blue, off-the-shoulder floral dress she wore. "My, you have a good memory!"

"Sorry, but those leggings and boots are etched on my consciousness. You've put your hair up too."

She gave a wicked little grin and raised one leg from beneath the table. "Still got boots!"

They were definitely different to her earlier attire, and now I could see them better, they were as red as her nails. From what I could see, they went on far above her knees.

They not only turned me on even more but gave me inspiration.

"Ok, how about Scarlett?"

She pondered for a moment then nodded her head. "Ok, sounds cool. Tonight, I shall be called Scarlett."

She took a sip of her gin and laughed. What she said next sounded so alluring in her low and sultry posh accent, I thought I was going to lose it there and then.

"I can just imagine it in a porn mag. 'Scarlett moaned as Luke's ten-inch cock slid into her sopping wet snatch and her latex-gloved index-finger wormed between his buttocks, going deep and dark.'"

I felt myself stiffening at the thought. "I wish."

"What, the ten-inch cock bit? Or getting to fuck me?"

"Both."

"Well one we may be able to do something about. The other - well, how does, 'Luke wriggled in delight as Scarlett pursed her lips. Starting at the top of his quivering, average-sized erection, she blew a long stream of smoke from her cigarette all the way down the shaft and across his tightening balls."

I felt like I had swallowed the lemon in my drink. "Sounds good. Oh and not to sound too boastful, but I like to think it's slightly above average."

Her reply was as sarcastic as her wave to me at the coffee shop. "Ooh, fucking bonus! Little boy with big dick. Whoop-de-fucking-do!"

She then held up her index finger and did to it exactly what she had just so graphically described.

"Oh, and by the way, it is good, Luke. It is so fucking good!"

She leaned forward, brushing a stray wisp of hair from her face. "So, all you have to do is be a very good boy and buy me dinner in there."

She hooked a thumb towards the hotel. "Don't worry - its only one Michelin Star and my tastes are not all that expensive. I mean, my favourite wine only just pushes into three figures!"

My heart was pounding. "But it's a Saturday. They'll have been booked up for ages."

"Good job I have a table reserved for seven then, isn't it?" She paused. "Oh, sorry - I never even considered, but..." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "You can afford it on your pocket money, can't you?"

I swallowed hard. "I'll manage. Maybe do without sweeties and Big Macs for a month or two."

She clapped her hands. "Ooh, things are looking up. I do like a free meal, especially an expensive one!"

The look she then gave me turned most of me to jelly, and one small but slightly above-average appendage to stone.

"Oh, one other condition, Luke."

"Anything."

"You've given me my name for the night and I like it. From now on in, you are at Scarlett's command and will do everything she tells you to. Without question or hesitation or all bets are off. Is that clear?"

Shivering inside, I could barely control my voice. "Yes, Scarlett. That is perfectly clear."

"Good - you will be my plaything to do with as I choose. But I guarantee, it will be the best night of your life, Luke."

She beckoned me forward. "Come closer..."

She took a pull on her cigarette and blew a long stream of smoke into my face. "You like that, don't you?"

I inhaled the acrid smoke. "Yes, Scarlett."

"Why, Luke?"

"I don't know. It just turns me on."

"And yet you don't smoke yourself?"

"No, never."

She gave me a wry smile. "Strange old world we live in, eh, Luke? Nice, handsome young man like you with a dirty little smoking fetish. Does your girlfriend smoke while she sucks you off?"

I began to stammer. "I d-don't have a girlfriend."

She held my gaze and let another long stream of smoke escape her lips. "Why, because you can't find a girl who will smoke while she sucks you off?"

"Possibly, but I've never asked. It's not exactly an easy ask, is it?"

"No, so a good job I enjoy it then, isn't it?"

She sat back, teasing me by blowing smoke rings. "Want to suck my pussy as I smoke? Watch as I engulf your tumescent dick with it? Red latex gloves, these boots. Fuck, Luke - I look so fucking hot in latex."

She winked at me. "Hell, I may have to go for a two-hundred pound bottle at this rate!"

"Anything. Chateau Lafite Rothschild, Latour, Dom Perignon. I don't fucking-well care, Scarlett. No question, no hesitation, no expense spared. I am at your command."

She raised a well-tended eyebrow. "Good boy. Now, summon the waiter and order me another stiff gin to go with that stiff little dick of yours!"

Two - Her

I love having power over men. I always have and always will. It began at around six years old when I realised that a well-placed, ear-splitting shriek could have a devastating effect on my older brothers and my father. My mother was always immune. Maybe that's why I never really got off on girls - I just cannot control them as easily as I can the male half of the species.

Every time one of my frequent 'I want' moments went unheeded, it only took one banshee-wail to ensure that my cherubic face was smeared with chocolate or ice cream, or another stuffed animal smiled down on me benignly from my already impressive collection.

My quick mouth managed to get me through my formative years at school. I was intelligent, well-read and my arguments were always well-reasoned and compelling. Once I grew out of screaming, I used logic and persuasion. They became even more powerful tools as a low, seductive voice added to the mix and as I got older, it seemed more appealing to win people over by my powers of speech than my ability to pop eardrums.

Then of course, when I became old enough, I discovered that my mouth could be even more persuasive in an entirely different and definitely more alluring way for all concerned.

An expensive dress I had seen became reality when my nineteen-year-old self went to town on an older man. I obtained my first real leather boots in the same manner. A fair-to-middling performance review became stellar when I took my boss from the coffee shop in which we conducted it to my flat around the corner to obtain a re-grade.

That was the day my life changed in so many ways. I had only intended to blow him to get my way, but we ended up having full-on sex. I had no qualms - he was reasonably good looking and unmarried so we weren't doing any damage to anyone. It was when I lit a post-coital cigarette that things really changed.

Suddenly, he was looking at me differently. Despite it being just a few minutes since we had finished, I could sense he was hardening again. He tore off the condom that still adorned him and asked me to go down on him once more, promising to find another few hundred pounds to add to my salary review.

I took a pull on the cigarette and held it up to him. "Not sure if you've noticed, but I'm still smoking."

He swallowed hard, looking embarrassed. "Look, Belle I know this sounds weird, but that's exactly why I want you to do it. Something about it just-"

He never got to finish what he was saying as I took another mouthful of smoke and exhaled it over his flaccid cock. I had never seen one spring to attention so quickly as he choked in mid-sentence.

By the time he left, I was almost running the company.

Now I had a new string to my bow, but limited chances to use it. I became addicted to it as I persuaded a few more of my burgeoning band of lovers to try it, but not being to everyone's taste, my chances were few and far between.

The problem was, I was beginning to crave other, ever more kinky things to try out. The rise of the Internet meant more and more things were available on-line and I soon found myself drawn to websites where women dominated men.

At first it was just images. Random jpegs slowly resolving on-screen over a mega-slow dial-up as a leather-clad Goddess with slicked-back blonde hair took a willing sub up the back way with a strap-on. Then, as bandwidths got better and Broadband took over, everything was at my fingertips.