Darkest Fantasies by Kimberley Raines

was propped open by a
rubber bit.
    'Now, dear,'
Madam Tisset went on, 'he's all yours... aren't you, Ben?'
    Ben nodded,
and mumbled something.
    'What did he
say?'
    'Thank you,
Madam. Slaves are grateful to be noticed, whether you wish to speak
to them or simply abuse them. And if they forget, then you must
remind them in such a way it doesn't happen again. Slaves must
never be allowed to forget their manners.'
    Esther stood
hesitantly, wondering what she should do, and Madam Tisset
tut-tutted. 'You've got the costume on, girl. Become it! Do what
you want. Examine him. See what he's made of. Take his pants off
and have a good look at his penis. I doubt you've ever looked at
Kevin's that closely, have you? Once you know what you're dealing
with you can stop being afraid of it. It's not magic the way his
silly tool gets big, it's blood pressure, and the biggest weapon
you have is knowing how to control his valves. Once you've done
that, the next thing to learn is where his pleasure centres are.
They're his weak points. With that knowledge you will never feel
small again. Now, go ahead.'
    Not feeling at
all dominant, Esther reluctantly stepped forward, and once again
Madam Tisset took charge. She spread her hands out and rubbed them
all over the chained man's torso and thighs as though she was
rubbing down a horse. 'Like this, dear, now join in. Even this
surface rubbing has a reason. You see, it brings tiny blood vessels
to the surface, makes everything more sensitive, so when you hit
him later it's far more effective.'
    Growing more
confident as time went on, Esther smoothed her hands firmly across
Ben's hard chest, twiddled his nipples firmly, then ran her hands
down to the top of his shorts, thinking how much hairier he was
than Kevin. She rubbed her hands up and down his hard thighs,
slipping a finger under the rim where the shorts tightly
encompassed his flesh. Then she walked around him and, getting more
familiar, ground herself against the tiny buttocks to make her own
leather garb creak against her, creating strange erotic sensations
to flood her middle. After a while Esther found that touching the
man all over when he could neither reciprocate or argue made him
less of a human being, more of an object to be played with and
manipulated.
    She grew
braver, stronger. Then she ran her fingers up his tapered back,
along the ridges of muscle on his broad shoulders, felt the raised
blood vessels pulsing under her hands. Walking around the front
once more, she slid both hands up the thickness of his neck, pushed
her fingers into the wiry mass of his hair and pulled her thumbs
down over his cheeks, sliding them under the web of straps that
held the bit in place. Then she went one step further and fed a
finger into his mouth above the bit, pushing his tongue this way
and that. He groaned, and she realised with shock that the penis
was no longer flaccid. She had made the man rampant. Was it really
that easy?
    When she made
love with Kevin she sometimes had to knead him into fullness before
he could make love to her. She didn't like having to do that, it
was as if he wasn't really interested in her as a woman, that
simply being there wasn't enough to make him fancy her. She now
knew she was right and was slightly saddened that she might have
gone for the rest of her life without realising this simple
fact.
    But why was
this man so rampant when she was touching anything except his
penis? Then the penny dropped. Anticipation. Oh, goodness. The
answer had been there all along. All the years of her marriage
she'd been trying to milk Kevin like a cow, when what he needed was
other stimuli. Yet why hadn't he told her that? It was this
Victorian double standard at work again, she realised. One thing
for the whore, but the wife was supposed to lie back in the dark
and think of England. It wasn't really fair, was it?
    But one thing
that did happen, with all that touching and with the fellow, big as
he was, chained up like that, she realised