yourself.’
Victoria was looking intent. Talking must have been rather low on her list of priorities, but at length she said, ‘I’m touching myself.’
‘Where? How?’ Harriet asked. ‘Be specific. Didn’t they teach you about the importance of narrative detail in your literature and writing classes?’
‘My cunt, then! Outside. The inside’s full of cucumber so I can’t get at it.’
‘Indeed? And however did you get a cucumber into such an unusual place?’
Victoria didn’t make the obvious answer. ‘And I’m going to come in a moment, unless you let me stop,’ she said with an edge of helpless desperation in her voice. ‘Right here in public,’ she added. Her voice shook and her face was flushed. Every time she drew in a deep ragged breath she wriggled her shoulders and breasts, no doubt feeling the little needles sewn into her bra.
‘Well, there isn’t any harm in that so long as you can be ladylike about it. If you shout about it, the rest will be wanting some too. But tell me,’ Harriet asked disingenuously, ‘does it really feel all that good? I don’t have much experience with kinky sex and masochism.’
‘You know damn well how it feels,’ Victoria hissed as she bent forward in her seat. Her breasts touched the edge of the table, and she gasped at the contact. Her plea to be allowed to stop was less than sincere.
‘You can stop now, Victoria,’ Harriet ordered her quietly.
Victoria paid her no attention.
Sternly, Harriet said, ‘Stop. Now.’ She touched Victoria’s foot under the table with her shoe to emphasise the point.
‘But I’m almost there!’ Victoria wailed.
‘I can see that for myself, thank you very much. That’s why I want you to stop. Both hands on the table, please.’
Reluctantly Victoria brought her hands into view and sat up straight in her chair. She looked quite appealing in her dishevelled state. Her hair had begun to cling damply to her cheeks and forehead and her clothing had been ever so slightly disarranged by her exertions. But the real giveaway was her breathing. Her breasts were rising and falling quite alarmingly as she struggled to catch her breath without being obvious about it. She looked distractedly around the room, as if she were seeing it for the first time. When she saw the waiter looking at her she went red in the face once more and looked quickly away.
‘Now, Vicky,’ Harriet remonstrated, ‘that’s no way to treat someone I’ve invited round for an afternoon’s frolic. You really must try to remember your manners. Smile at him.’
Victoria’s expression resembled a grimace rather than a smile, but Harriet let it go.
‘Eat your food,’ Harriet told her as she raised a forkful of salad to her mouth. She watched as Victoria followed suit with a hand that shook slightly. After a few minutes Harriet leant over the table and told Victoria, ‘Now, I want to see you eat and masturbate at the same time. If you do well I might even let you finish yourself off, but be careful not to be too obvious. One must preserve a certain decorum in public.’ She settled back to watch.
Victoria’s hand moved swiftly under the table. She was careful to keep eating with her free hand, but she soon looked like someone with her attention elsewhere. Her breath grew ragged and once or twice her shoulders quivered, but it was plain that she was trying to restrain the more public manifestations of her arousal. It was equally plain that she was aroused by the public nature of the occasion. The conversation suffered a lapse, and Harriet had to remind herself to eat and try to act natural. If she found the act difficult, Victoria must have found it well-nigh impossible. She whimpered softly, losing control.
Harriet wished she could see what Victoria was doing to herself, but it wouldn’t do to look under the table. ‘Tell me what you’re doing,’ she ordered – the next best thing, and maybe it would be good discipline for Victoria.
‘I’m
Victoria was looking intent. Talking must have been rather low on her list of priorities, but at length she said, ‘I’m touching myself.’
‘Where? How?’ Harriet asked. ‘Be specific. Didn’t they teach you about the importance of narrative detail in your literature and writing classes?’
‘My cunt, then! Outside. The inside’s full of cucumber so I can’t get at it.’
‘Indeed? And however did you get a cucumber into such an unusual place?’
Victoria didn’t make the obvious answer. ‘And I’m going to come in a moment, unless you let me stop,’ she said with an edge of helpless desperation in her voice. ‘Right here in public,’ she added. Her voice shook and her face was flushed. Every time she drew in a deep ragged breath she wriggled her shoulders and breasts, no doubt feeling the little needles sewn into her bra.
‘Well, there isn’t any harm in that so long as you can be ladylike about it. If you shout about it, the rest will be wanting some too. But tell me,’ Harriet asked disingenuously, ‘does it really feel all that good? I don’t have much experience with kinky sex and masochism.’
‘You know damn well how it feels,’ Victoria hissed as she bent forward in her seat. Her breasts touched the edge of the table, and she gasped at the contact. Her plea to be allowed to stop was less than sincere.
‘You can stop now, Victoria,’ Harriet ordered her quietly.
Victoria paid her no attention.
Sternly, Harriet said, ‘Stop. Now.’ She touched Victoria’s foot under the table with her shoe to emphasise the point.
‘But I’m almost there!’ Victoria wailed.
‘I can see that for myself, thank you very much. That’s why I want you to stop. Both hands on the table, please.’
Reluctantly Victoria brought her hands into view and sat up straight in her chair. She looked quite appealing in her dishevelled state. Her hair had begun to cling damply to her cheeks and forehead and her clothing had been ever so slightly disarranged by her exertions. But the real giveaway was her breathing. Her breasts were rising and falling quite alarmingly as she struggled to catch her breath without being obvious about it. She looked distractedly around the room, as if she were seeing it for the first time. When she saw the waiter looking at her she went red in the face once more and looked quickly away.
‘Now, Vicky,’ Harriet remonstrated, ‘that’s no way to treat someone I’ve invited round for an afternoon’s frolic. You really must try to remember your manners. Smile at him.’
Victoria’s expression resembled a grimace rather than a smile, but Harriet let it go.
‘Eat your food,’ Harriet told her as she raised a forkful of salad to her mouth. She watched as Victoria followed suit with a hand that shook slightly. After a few minutes Harriet leant over the table and told Victoria, ‘Now, I want to see you eat and masturbate at the same time. If you do well I might even let you finish yourself off, but be careful not to be too obvious. One must preserve a certain decorum in public.’ She settled back to watch.
Victoria’s hand moved swiftly under the table. She was careful to keep eating with her free hand, but she soon looked like someone with her attention elsewhere. Her breath grew ragged and once or twice her shoulders quivered, but it was plain that she was trying to restrain the more public manifestations of her arousal. It was equally plain that she was aroused by the public nature of the occasion. The conversation suffered a lapse, and Harriet had to remind herself to eat and try to act natural. If she found the act difficult, Victoria must have found it well-nigh impossible. She whimpered softly, losing control.
Harriet wished she could see what Victoria was doing to herself, but it wouldn’t do to look under the table. ‘Tell me what you’re doing,’ she ordered – the next best thing, and maybe it would be good discipline for Victoria.
‘I’m
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