what you’re wearing. I think you might have on a leather bikini with peepholes for your nipples and just a tiny little thong for the bottom half.’
Lizzie barked with laughter. Oh, he was a caution. Was he serious? Was that what he wanted to see her in? It sounded like a blue version of a Carry On movie outfit.
‘Ah, so you think my wishes are funny, do you?’
‘No! No! It was just a surprise. But you might be right . . . Now I come to think about it, I am wearing a leather bikini, yes. Yes, I am. And it’s very skimpy, you can see everything. It makes me look more exposed than if I was naked.’
‘That sounds like a very nice bikini indeed. And your nipples, perhaps they’re rouged? A pretty red, to match your lip-tint and the stripes I’m going to put across your bottom?’
‘Um, yes . . . yes they are.’ She looked down at her nipples. They were very dark beneath the thin white cotton of her tee, poking against it, hard. Her hand tingled with another urge, to tweak and squeeze them, but she was forbidden to do that too, presumably.
‘Excellent. And now, the leather knickers. I fancy that they’re very abbreviated. Barely more than a few strips of butter-soft hide, you know? Just a little triangle at the front and a cord at the back, dividing your delicious buttocks and leaving them bare and available. Might that be the case, perhaps?’
She could see herself in this get-up. The corset she’d imagined before dissolved, only to be replaced by John’s porno fantasy. She was hanging on the chain with her nipples painted red and her bum bare but for a single dark leather strip, snug and tight in her anal groove.
Oh God . . . She dug her nails into her thigh, pinching herself to keep from thrashing at her clit and making herself come. If only John were here and he would play with her. In her mind, the dungeon was forgotten and he was here, now, looming over her, kneeling on the bed and reaching down to fondle her pussy.
‘Bettie? What are you doing?’
‘Nothing, just admiring your choice in elegant undergarments for me.’
She heard a soft breath through the speaker. Not quite a laugh, not quite a grunt. Was he wanking? She thought he might be.
‘Now, back to your leather panties. They’re only tiny, and your beautiful dark bush is peeking out. Why is that so, Bettie? Most working ladies of my acquaintance are pretty scrupulous about their Brazilians. Some of them even wax it off completely. But you’re relatively luxuriant down there.’ He paused. He was challenging her again, testing her. ‘Not that I’m complaining. I prefer it on you . . . but still.’
‘I . . . Well, once, I had to take a client at very short notice, and I hadn’t time to wax, and he loved it. He went wild.’ She bit her lip, thinking fast. ‘So I tried it again, with another punter, and he loved it too . . . so since then I’ve been a bit less . . . um . . . stringent down there. I’ve even got one or two guys now who’ll pay extra if I let it get really shaggy.’
‘Connoisseurs,’ pronounced John roundly.
‘If you say so.’
‘I do, and my word is the law.’ She could hear the laughter in his voice, but there was that edge too, the thread of dominance that made her feel light-headed. ‘So, this dungeon of yours, let’s hear a bit more about it? Are you chained up?’
‘Yes, I am. There’s a big chain hanging from the ceiling and I’m fastened to it, with my arms stretched up. I can only just reach.’
‘Because you’re wearing high heels?’
‘How did you know?’ She hadn’t got as far as her feet, but if he was into her wearing a leather bikini, it wasn’t much of a leap to imagine he’d want her in towering stilettos too.
‘I have powers . . . Now come on, more detail.’
‘It’s very dark and gloomy and there are torches. More chains and whips, and instruments of torture hanging from the walls. And people too, watching the show. I can’t see them properly. They’re in the
Lizzie barked with laughter. Oh, he was a caution. Was he serious? Was that what he wanted to see her in? It sounded like a blue version of a Carry On movie outfit.
‘Ah, so you think my wishes are funny, do you?’
‘No! No! It was just a surprise. But you might be right . . . Now I come to think about it, I am wearing a leather bikini, yes. Yes, I am. And it’s very skimpy, you can see everything. It makes me look more exposed than if I was naked.’
‘That sounds like a very nice bikini indeed. And your nipples, perhaps they’re rouged? A pretty red, to match your lip-tint and the stripes I’m going to put across your bottom?’
‘Um, yes . . . yes they are.’ She looked down at her nipples. They were very dark beneath the thin white cotton of her tee, poking against it, hard. Her hand tingled with another urge, to tweak and squeeze them, but she was forbidden to do that too, presumably.
‘Excellent. And now, the leather knickers. I fancy that they’re very abbreviated. Barely more than a few strips of butter-soft hide, you know? Just a little triangle at the front and a cord at the back, dividing your delicious buttocks and leaving them bare and available. Might that be the case, perhaps?’
She could see herself in this get-up. The corset she’d imagined before dissolved, only to be replaced by John’s porno fantasy. She was hanging on the chain with her nipples painted red and her bum bare but for a single dark leather strip, snug and tight in her anal groove.
Oh God . . . She dug her nails into her thigh, pinching herself to keep from thrashing at her clit and making herself come. If only John were here and he would play with her. In her mind, the dungeon was forgotten and he was here, now, looming over her, kneeling on the bed and reaching down to fondle her pussy.
‘Bettie? What are you doing?’
‘Nothing, just admiring your choice in elegant undergarments for me.’
She heard a soft breath through the speaker. Not quite a laugh, not quite a grunt. Was he wanking? She thought he might be.
‘Now, back to your leather panties. They’re only tiny, and your beautiful dark bush is peeking out. Why is that so, Bettie? Most working ladies of my acquaintance are pretty scrupulous about their Brazilians. Some of them even wax it off completely. But you’re relatively luxuriant down there.’ He paused. He was challenging her again, testing her. ‘Not that I’m complaining. I prefer it on you . . . but still.’
‘I . . . Well, once, I had to take a client at very short notice, and I hadn’t time to wax, and he loved it. He went wild.’ She bit her lip, thinking fast. ‘So I tried it again, with another punter, and he loved it too . . . so since then I’ve been a bit less . . . um . . . stringent down there. I’ve even got one or two guys now who’ll pay extra if I let it get really shaggy.’
‘Connoisseurs,’ pronounced John roundly.
‘If you say so.’
‘I do, and my word is the law.’ She could hear the laughter in his voice, but there was that edge too, the thread of dominance that made her feel light-headed. ‘So, this dungeon of yours, let’s hear a bit more about it? Are you chained up?’
‘Yes, I am. There’s a big chain hanging from the ceiling and I’m fastened to it, with my arms stretched up. I can only just reach.’
‘Because you’re wearing high heels?’
‘How did you know?’ She hadn’t got as far as her feet, but if he was into her wearing a leather bikini, it wasn’t much of a leap to imagine he’d want her in towering stilettos too.
‘I have powers . . . Now come on, more detail.’
‘It’s very dark and gloomy and there are torches. More chains and whips, and instruments of torture hanging from the walls. And people too, watching the show. I can’t see them properly. They’re in the
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