Gemini Heat (24 page)

A beautifully crafted wall-frame could have no other purpose but to secure a human body for punishment. Red leather restraints with shiny brass fittings hung strategically at each of its four corners, and Deana immediately imagined herself in them, stretched and spreadeagled for some exquisite and long, drawn-out torment. For pleasure or pain, but which of them, she hardly seemed to care.

In the vision, she saw Jake standing behind her, fully clothed but with his flies hanging open as he levered his penis into her sex ... or maybe somewhere else? She remembered
Against the Parapet
and quivered helplessly at the awful, yet obscenely compelling idea of being buggered.

The frame was not the only
objet
that was exclusively devoted to sex. In another corner was what looked like a perfectly restored antique dentist's chair, also fitted with restraints. The leather of the seat was a deep aubergine-plum colour, and the foot and leg rest had the curious feature of having been modified so that the sitter's lower limbs could be separately secured. Thus a tormentor - or lover - could stand directly between the recumbant's thighs with total access to the genitals. Deana shivered in the pit of her stomach, every nerve and membrane in motion. She was aroused beyond belief and all they'd done to her was make her look at the accoutrements of their pleasure.

The more normal contents of the room included a large brass-railed bed, a selection of brocaded pouffes and ottomans, and a fabulous full-sized French
chaise-longue
which was plainly a priceless antique as well as an evocative object of beauty.

Not quite so beautiful was what could only be described as a punishment bar. Fitted out in the same dark leather as the chair it was an upholstered wooden horizontal suspended between two inverted v-shaped supports. It looked like some kind of deluxe saw-horse, and fitted into the polished floorboards to the front and back of it were the inevitable leather-cuffed restraints.

'So many lovely ways to arrange you,' whispered Vida in her ear as Jake ambled over to the
chaise
and sat down, completely at ease. The maid, Bentley, went around to the various sources of light, and adjusted their brightness according to some prearranged instruction.

'What's your choice then, Lord Kazuto?' Vida was unfastening the sash of her coat as she spoke. Sliding the bright sheeny wrapper down her shoulders, she then straightened her arms to let it fall. Bentley stepped close and caught the coat before it hit the floor, and Deana just gasped . . . Vida was wearing a corset too, but it was nothing like her own white leather one.

Vida's voguish garment could easily have caused amusement - to the uninitiated. A classic 'Sixties' style fitted corselet, it had circle stitched bra-cups and a sleek, uncompromising bodice of fine elastic-mesh net. It was the colour of exaggeratedly salmon-toned 'flesh' and its heavy serviceable suspenders held up a pair of fully fashioned American tan micro-mesh stockings that looked perfect with Vida's high-gloss patent court shoes.

Deana looked from Vida's astounding corsetry, to Jake's appreciative eyes, and back again. It was obvious that the novelist aroused him because he was massaging his groin in long, slow, circular strokes.

'Your discretion, sweet Vida,' he purred, shimmying his linen-clad hips in response to his own blatant rubbing. 'It
is
your birthday ... All I ask is that you go easy on her because she's new to this. She's been disobedient and she needs to suffer, but I don't want her marked too badly. She's got a perfect, beautiful bottom, and it would be a shame to scar it.'

'Don't worry,' Vida said briskly, snapping her fingers for Bentley, 'there won't be a bruise on her tomorrow. A bit of a glow, maybe, but nothing more drastic.'

'You're on! I'll check,' said Jake with a grin.

It was as if they were discussing an inanimate object, thought Deana, her bare sex alive and excited. She was flesh for their amusement - a woman's body, but treated like a naughty child, punished for a minor wrong-doing.

'Now then, Dee, time to make yourself useful.' Vida turned towards her. 'I want you to undress your master. I want to see him naked . . . Look sharp, girl. Hand the clothes to Bentley as you take them off. We don't want such lovely things creased now, do we?'

Deana looked down at her cuffed hands and Jake laughed softly. 'Don't worry, my sweet,' he said to her almost kindly. Leaping lightly off the
chaise,
he stepped up close, then took one of her wrists in his strong brown hand. With just the slightest flick of his fingers, he undid first one cuff then the other, then slid them off and handed them to the quietly waiting Bentley.

Deana felt both diminished and angry. She'd been standing around like a ninny in those cuffs and she could probably have had them off herself in seconds. They were just as much toys as she was, and Jake had tricked her.

But the anger disappeared as quickly as it had come. Fakes or real, the handcuffs were merely a symbol of restraint, one image in this elaborately constructed tapestry of images, and necessary to both her role and theirs.

And now Jake was before her, waiting for her to serve him and take off his clothes. Mercifully, it seemed he felt inclined to help her, because he sat back down on the
chaise
again and lifted his feet one by one so she could pull off his black Italian loafers.

Vida had been right, both Jake's footwear and his clothing were lovely. Deana admired his shiny hand-stitched shoes as she passed them to Bentley, and was equally impressed by the pure silk socks he wore beneath them. His feet were longish and his toes perfectly pedicured and they smelt as much of his intoxicating cologne as the rest of him.

Jake stood again for the rest of his disrobing and Deana found herself intensely aroused by the process.
She'd
never seen him anywhere near fully nude. Delia might've seen him without his clothes, but for his hurried sexual couplings with herself, he'd only ever unfastened his trousers. She'd seen his cock - and felt it inside her - but she'd never seen or touched the rest of his naked skin.

The next item off was the dandyish black brocade waistcoat. And as first it, and then the other things came off, the three of them worked well as a team. Jake inclined his graceful body whichever way was needed; Deana slid off each garment in turn; Bentley took each item from her and put it to one side over a chair, folding where necessary.

Beneath the black silk shirt was a chest and torso that made the artist in Deana draw breath and long for her pencil. He was so smooth, his muscles so firm and sheeny: strong-looking but in no way exaggerated or pronounced. She imagined him as a dancer or a runner when he exercised, doing martial arts or Tai Chi Chuan. There was no way this man pumped iron; weights, yes, she could quite see that. But wielded with surgical precision to tone and sleek and tighten, not build up gross bundles of muscle. She found herself wanting to draw him or kiss him, and the urge to press her mouth to his gleaming skin was so strong that she fumbled with his belt.

'Take care, Dee,' he threatened softly, pausing in the proceedings to lift his hand and pinch her right nipple. The pain was sharp and twin-focused, attacking her clitoris with pleasure from within as surely as Jake hurt her breast from without. She groaned, unable to help herself, aware that even though the nearby Bentley seemed totally immune to all this, Vida was sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking her pointed chin thoughtfully and watching every action with interest.

As his trousers came off, Deana faltered again. More seriously this time, her senses sent spinning into turmoil by what lay beneath the tailored black linen.

She'd wondered earlier - a lifetime ago it seemed now - why Jake hadn't worn leather tonight. But she'd been deceived . . . because he
was
wearing leather after all. Instead of the designer silk boxer shorts she'd half been expecting, her dark and beautiful master was wearing a dark, beautiful garment at his loins. A very kinky garment. An abbreviated black leather posing pouch, a triangle held in place only by shoelace-like thongs that stretched up over his narrow male hips. When he twisted slightly in stepping out of his trousers, she saw that the whole assembly was entirely backless - apart from another fine thong that ran rudely up the chink of his bottom to tie with the others at the small of his back.

'Nice,' murmured Vida from the periphery, while Deana wanted to fall to her knees and rain kisses on such an object of glory.

The pouch was miniscule, and presumably fitted snugly around his genitals when they were soft and quiescent. The difficulty now was that Jake was far from quiescent, and the paper-thin leather was pushed out inches away from his body, tented obscenely by the force of what it failed to contain. Deana could see her own fingers shaking wildly as she reached out towards Jake's groin.

'Ooh no, keep that on!' Vida said breathily, leaving her place on the bed to join them, 'I really like that, Kazuto-san. I just knew there'd be leather on you somewhere.'

Deana wished wholeheartedly that Jake would move at that moment and give her a sideways view, so she could see the thick, silky bar of his penis where it pushed out the pouch from his groin. As it was she could see his balls hanging heavily beneath it and the lush sooty cloud of his pubic hair where it stole out from its inadequate container.

'No no no! Such pretty sights aren't for you, unworthy one! You have to be punished first.'

Vida's low, clear voice was kinder than her words suggested. And her fingers were solicitous and gentle on Deana's right arm as she led her away from Jake in his gorgeous near-nudity, and towards the menacing span of the punishment bar.

'I'm going to paddle your bottom now, Dee,' she explained as if it were the most normal and usual thing to happen. 'It will hurt you more than you can possibly imagine, but with any luck it'll also make you unbearably horny.' She smiled then, calm and wise as if explaining an eternal verity. 'And if you're a good brave girl under the pain, we'll give you an orgasm afterwards.' She was pushing Deana against the bar now, snapping her fingers for Bentley. 'But if you perform poorly, of course, we'll have to leave you unsatisfied. And I think you can imagine how unpleasant that will be.' As Deana went slowly forward across the leather-covered beam, she felt her tormentress's soft, cool fingers rest lightly and coaxingly on her bottom.

The boned corset made her position across the bar almost painful, but Deana managed not to protest. The threat of being left randy after all this was too horrendous to contemplate, and no matter how much Vida and Jake hurt her, she was determined to bear it with stoicism and earn both her own sexual release and their respect for her fortitude and strength.

She almost fell at the first hurdle though, when Bentley shackled down her hands and feet, stretching her limbs awkwardly and making the corset press deep into her belly.

She bit her lip as unseen hands adjusted her on the bar, arranging her thighs so she was as lewdly exhibited as possible, and slyly fingering her folds and the groove of her bottom in the process.

'She looks extraordinarily good,' commented Vida conversationally. 'I think I'm really going to enjoy this.' The fingertips continued in their rude exploration, but Deana still couldn't tell whose they were.

There was a long pause then, and though Deana could no longer see her, she sensed that Vida's green eyes were wide and assessing. 'So much so in fact,' Vida continued, sounding pleased with herself, 'that I think I'll have a glass of champagne before I start. It always adds that extra little sparkle.'

After that, there was a second long, frustrating wait whilst Bentley was despatched to fetch the wine. Deana was anxious to begin now, to taste the pain and see if she could stand up to it. And more than that, Deana, muttered a subversive voice inside her, you want to find out if you'll like it!

It was shocking, but she could almost answer that already. Even the idea of being beaten across the bottom was doing diabolical things to her vulva. She could feel herself pouting open, her vagina a dripping chasm, and the tender convoluted lips above it standing swollen and proud, puffed up with the blood of arousal. Her clitoris was a solid throbbing knot, protruding as it never had before, sticking out and begging silently to be touched. The worst of it was that she knew the others could see this; see her body aching for something or anything to put it out of its misery.

The door opened and closed and after a moment or two there were the sounds of a popping cork, a busy, whooshing fizz and the soft glug-glug of fine wine being poured into glasses.

The glasses clinked.

'To excess!'

'To everything!'

To hell with it, don't keep me waiting! thought Deana, the muscles of her bottom twitching tensely. She sensed the two of them standing close behind her, watching her idly like two guests at a cocktail party, totally at ease in their bizarre fetishistic clothing - or in Jake's case, the lack of it.

'You're right, Kazuto my darling, she does have a beautiful bottom . . .' Fingers touched Deana very delicately, tracing the inslope of one buttock with a fingernail and making her automatically clench her sphincter.

'Quite lovely,' said Jake, his voice sounding strangely affectionate, 'but I think it needs a little decoration . . . Something here.' Another finger, a substantial and more male one, settled right into Deana's anal crease, then pushed carefully at the tightness of the hole there.