Helena (16 page)

So as I
listened, surreal though it might sound, to the difficulty involved
in shampooing recalcitrant pet pooches, the thought of spending
another minute in her company or anybody else like her, made me
desperate. I thought of all the interesting people I had met
through you, and how my life had been transformed; or rather how I
was transforming my life with the help of you and your friends.

I thought, why
the hell not go to France? Why did I need this supposed rest? I had
holidays. Gregory was away, and I had realized that I wasn't going
to get anywhere moping around the house trying to think of what I
was going to say to him when he returned. It also seemed like such
a defiant gesture, overturning all that negation in my life with a
simple monosyllabic affirmative. Yes, say, followed most assuredly
by the confirmation of a, 'why not!'

It was so
easy. Yes, the sex that I anticipated having with them I knew would
be varied and stupendous. It no longer made me nervous. And more
importantly I liked them as people. My god, how I liked them, to
talk to them, to listen to their stories, and because they were so
happy sexually they never needed to talk about it much.
Occasionally it might slip into the conversation, but with natural
ease, no ear burning there. They'd had so much experience of the
world, of places, of people; they prided themselves not on any
false notion or devotion but on their bright humour, on the
astuteness of their comments, on all-embracing intelligent
tolerance. Sometimes, in their company, as in yours, I felt like I
was taking a refresher course in humanity.

I was so
comfortable there, until that is I saw Steven Cussack, a colleague
of Gregory, sitting over the way with his chubby frocked wife and a
brat of children. No, it wouldn't have been so difficult to excuse
my presence in the airport, but the coating of make-up and a
sluttish split skirt might have been a little trickier. Also the
fact that Frank's hand intermittently rested on mine, in a manner
that could not be construed as mere platonic affection.

I gazed over
at the bearded cleric who fortunately was too engaged in
long-winded pontificating with his bored-looking wife. The man was
in his own woolly, muddled way as boring as Anne was.

He gazed over
to me, as his wife temporarily negated her role as diligent
audience to wipe the runny nose of one of her offspring. My heart
beat with insistent dread: I was sure he had looked at me, his eyes
seemingly peering into my own, but then he suddenly turned to his
wife, and presumably continued with his unintelligible speech. He
hadn't recognized me.

You see that
the bikini buying was not quite as impetuous as I said. Not wanting
to tempt fate, and fearing being embarrassed probably more by a
conversation with Cussack in front of my new friends as having to
invent some ludicrous story to explain my presence, I sped away
with the flimsy excuse of purchasing beachwear.

So, I'll go
back to the yacht. We departed early in the morning and Jean-Claude
drove us straight along the warm, sundrenched coast to a little
harbour where his yacht was moored. We lunched and the effect of
the wine made me feel a little sleepy, once we had sailed out of
the distance of the shore. I had changed into my little bikini and
was taking in the sun, lying on a lounger, my eyes and my mind
half-closed, the former against the brightness of the sun, the
latter against the turmoil in my head. I was thinking about the
immediate future, of Gregory's return and the necessity of
preparing a damage limiting speech for all our sakes. I slept
deeply to wake to a golden sunset falling over the harbour. I
looked for Simone but she had gone.

That night,
Freddie, was it planned? I never asked Jean-Claude or Simone
whether it had been preconceived that she should go off alone and
leave me to be pleasured by the two men. And how, Freddie!

I was wearing
that sumptuous black halter-neck that I bought in Kensington that
you said you admired so much. We dined alfresco, on the beautiful
balcony overlooking the sea. We stayed that night in the villa of
some friend of Jean-Claude. Frank had made the most delightful
meal, succulent fish and fresh herbs.

The
conversation was light, occasionally we found ourselves discussing
you, at other times the seeming vast superiority of the continent
to smug little England. The atmosphere was so congenial, the
luxurious wine glided down my throat, my skin seemed to tingle with
anticipation. I could not believe that we would all just go to bed
to sleep without anything occurring between the three of us,
especially as Simone wasn't there.

"Helene,"
Jean-Claude began.

I tilted my
head and gazed into those beautiful eyes of his.

"We want to
experiment a little with you tonight." A brief glance passed
between the two men.

"Experiment?
What kind of experiment?"

"We'd rather
it was a surprise, but you know that you trust us, and that we
would never do anything to harm you. You do know that don't
you?"

"Of course." I
did know it. I trusted these two men implicitly and I knew that I
would willingly give myself up to them in just about any way that
they desired. The thought of somehow experimenting with them made
me very wet indeed.

Jean-Claude
began clearing the table as Frank took my hand and trailed his
finger first on the outstretched material that covered my breast,
before slipping the tips of his fingers inside my dress, and then
my brassiere, tweaking hard on my already swollen nipples. All the
time he stared into my face, watching to see how I would react as
he pinched hard on my nipples.

Eventually he
began speaking: "We would like you to do everything that we tell
you. Absolutely everything! We want you to submit to us, even if we
ask you to do crazy things. Think of it as a kind of game, a
role-play if you like. Will you do that for us, Helena?"

The idea
seemed so shocking, that I would totally give myself up to anything
at all that they wanted me to do. I felt my heart race with
excitement.

"What do you
want me to do?" I asked in breathy anticipation.

"Well, first,
we would like you to bend over the table.

I must admit
that I actually gulped at the proposition.

"And another
thing, Helena, we don't want you to say anything at all unless we
ask you to do so."

As Frank
pulled his hand away after tweaking me again hard on the nipple, I
stood up, noticing that Jean-Claude had also returned from the
kitchen and was staring lustily at me with his intoxicatingly
penetrative eyes.

Oh, Freddie!
How can I even begin to explain the excitement that seemed to pulse
through my whole body! Thinking of these two handsome men staring
at me as I bent over the table until my breasts pressed against the
polished wood of the table, and my bottom plumped up before their
eyes. I felt their hot gaze on me as I looked dreamily into the
darkness of the distant waves.

It was Frank
who pulled up the hem of my dress until my panty-clad bottom was
revealed before him. He gently ran his fingers along the cleft of
my bottom before prodding his finger into my anus through the silky
material of my underwear. I wanted to turn my head to look at the
two men, but something told me instinctively that I was not
permitted to do so.

My panties
were firmly tugged down. I thought again of my childhood fantasy
with Terrence, but it didn't matter this time if they saw how
excited I was. My panties were very moist by then. I lifted up my
stiletto heels to aid their removal.

In my
dreaming, wild imagination I had never anticipated what they were
about to do next. Then came the swish of a cane through the air
before the crack of it on my firmed bottom flesh. I jolted upright,
emitted not a scream but a whine, before I had even sensed the
burning heat of pain the cane had made on my buttocks.

Hadn't this
been one of my oldest fantasies, Freddie? How did they know? I had
never talked to them about it before. Of that I was sure. Maybe
they had assumed from my behavior my own submissive tendencies.

Just as in my
ancient fantasies with Terrence, the pain suffused to a warm
burning glow before I received another firm stroke of correction.
Isn't that what it is called, Freddie, correction? That was how it
felt too, as if somehow in this blatantly masochistic act I was
somehow correcting myself of all those errors of timidity and
half-heartedness.

"You like
that, Helene, don't you?" Jean-Claude asked me, and I could tell
from the breathiness of his voice that it had been he who had
administered the strokes on me.

"Oh yes," I
said, my voice barely above an enthusiastic whisper.

"Would you
like me to hit you again?"

"Oh yes," I
replied equally breathily.

The cane came
down again on the meat of my bottom.

"OH!" I
screamed in my perverse delight. Again, "Oh! Oh!" as I was caned
twice more.

This time I
knew what they had planned for me as I felt Frank stretch my
buttocks apart, revealing the little hole of my anus opening up
before their eager eyes.

The stroke
this time was incredible, right across the crater of my anus, the
pain immense, shot through me, my voice wailed into the empty
night. I felt weak with pained excitement. They had told me that I
had to trust them, that I couldn't say anything, and I knew that
they would be incredibly disappointed with me if I was suddenly to
tell them that they had to stop. I couldn't do that, Freddie. It
seems incredible doesn't it, but I would have felt that I was
letting them down. There was something else, too, Freddie. Part of
me - I suspect it was the essential part - didn't want them to
stop. I wanted them to take me to the limit of pain, to even go
beyond it.

Another crack
of the cane!

"OH!" I
whimpered again. My whole bottom was stinging with the pain.

I felt Frank's
hands on me, untying my halter-neck dress, and then liberating my
firm and heaving breasts from my brassiere.

"Now kneel on
the floor," Jean-Claude commanded.

It was almost
disappointing to do so. They hadn't taken me to the limit yet.

"Put your
hands behind your back."

I passively
did so, feeling the silken scarves being wound around my wrists
then fastened in a tight knot that I knew I could not untie without
their help.

As my wrists
were being fastened tightly together, my eyes stared at Frank as I
watched him disrobe until he was completely naked, his majestic
cock in full erection.

The cane
lashed me on my bottom again. I knew what the game was this time,
what exactly they expected me to do. Using only my knees I was to
move towards Frank's cock and sink my mouth onto its pulsating
head, while Jean-Claude caned me from behind.

Frank
positioned himself on the floor, so that my bottom was plumped up
to Frank's delicious view and the mighty thwack of the came.

How exquisite
a sensation this was, to slide my ruby mouth along Frank's slicked
tool while Jean-Claude administered his firm punishment. Frank was
grabbing me hard by the crown of my head, pushing me further onto
him, until my lips almost reached the base of his shaft as
Jean-Claude increased the force of each blow of the cane.

Frank felt
that he was about to come so I eased the pressure of the grip my
mouth had on him, until he had eased me off him altogether. I
tongued him, dragging the tip along the length of his shaft before
licking and then sucking on his balls.

After a few
moments he placed my mouth firmly onto him again. This must have
been a sign to Jean-Claude. Maybe they passed a knowing glance at
one another I don't know, but that was when I felt Jean-Claude's
slicked fingers slide into my anus. He slid his fingers further and
further up, twisting the tips around, pressing hard on the
stretched flesh. He was greasing my bottom, preparing me for what
was about to come.

It did not
last long. I felt his thick helmet press against the taut surround
of my anus, before he gained access to my most intimate place. It
felt as if my whole body had been spiked on him. Both of his legs
were placed either side of my hips as he lowered himself harder and
harder into me. Oh, it was such a stunning experience, to have his
hot burning cock stuffed up my bottom like that, pressing out the
tight flesh. It hurt, Freddie, it hurt me so much, but at the same
time I was so excited, and the pain felt so exquisite. As Frank
roughly pulled my mouth harder onto his cock, Jean-Claude fucked me
mercilessly, as if I was some mere object, a fleshy toy.

"Do you like
that Helena?" Jean-Claude panted. "Do you like my hard cock up your
ass?"

"Mmm," I
moaned, my mouth full of Frank's cock.

"Do you want
it harder? Do you want my hard cock to fuck your ass harder?"

Not being able
to speak, I simply nodded. I wanted him to fuck me so hard, to hurt
me, to make me squeal with pained delight. His tensed hips slapped
against my burning skin. He clenched my upper thighs tighter and
fucked me in the ass remorselessly.

First Frank
shot his load into my gaping mouth, holding my head firmly so that
all I could do was swallow every drop of his sperm, and then I felt
the burning heat of Jean-Claude's jism as he orgasmed inside me. My
muscles contracted immediately and I felt one of the most intense
orgasms that I had ever felt in my life.

Oh the games
we played that week, so many, so much intense excitement. I felt
like I was living a completely different existence, an existence
that could not be lived outside the world of my sexual
fantasies.

There were so
many, for the game hadn't ended. Simone joined in too. I was to do
whatever they told me to do. Did I tell you how we entered the
forest and Simone strung me up on a tree, while Jean-Claude and
Frank ripped off my clothes and then lashed me whole body with
their leather belts? Or how they left me there while they gathered
some old men from a neighbouring village to watch the spectacle as
I was lashed again?