The Mammoth Book of Erotica Presents The Best of Saskia Walker by Saskia Walker
Authors: Saskia Walker
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Richard’s Secret
Saskia Walker
“A gimp?” Richard was a sex slave? Could it be possible? I swallowed, breathed deep and tried to make sense of what Tom had just told me. “But what does it mean . . .?” I looked up at him, spluttering the words out. “I mean, I know what it means ... I just don’t know what he means by it, by approaching us.”
Tom rested his hand reassuringly on my shoulder. There was a look of deep concern in his eyes and he was watching me carefully for my reactions. Oh, how I loved this man; when he had said he had something “a bit heavy” to talk to me about, I thought the worst was about to happen, that he was going to say there was another woman, that he was leaving me. The last thing I expected was for him to reveal this, Richard’s secret. Richard’s darkest secret.
I had actually known Richard longer than I had Tom. He had been working in the international trade department when I was transferred to the London branch, about six years earlier. Admittedly he was the dark horse in the department, and the office gossips plagued him with questions about his private life, all of which he managed to avoid and dismiss without being in the least bit offensive.
To me Richard was just a shy, reclusive guy; a small man, and very attractive in an understated way – nicely packaged, dark hair and vivid blue eyes. I just assumed he was comfortable around me because I was the only one who didn’t quiz him about his private life. That was also how I had learned more about him than the tenacious office gossips. He lived alone in an apartment overlooking the Thames and enjoyed a number of extreme sports, like acute and prolonged bouts of mountain biking, martial arts and kick boxing. I supposed that was what gave him his good packaging – the guy worked out, you know – but none of that seemed to go with his shy, understated image. Neither did this fetishistic sexuality that I had just learned about, but then . . . maybe it did kind of make sense?
I had kept the personal information he gave me to myself, which is why he liked me, I assumed; he appreciated that kind of respect. Now that I reflected on it, I guessed he had been even friendlier to me since Tom had arrived on the work scene and moved in with me two years ago; but shy single men often feel more comfortable around women who are attached. Little did I know he was observing Tom and me with this kind of proposal in mind. He wanted to be our sex slave, our gimp. My heart rate went up several notches and my body was hot, almost uncomfortably hot. I fanned myself with a magazine while trying to come to terms with the conundrum, and the rather extreme effect it was having on me – I had to admit it the idea made me horny as hell.
“Suzie, I can see you are interested, my love.” Tom folded his arms. He was standing in front of me and nodded down at my breasts, where my nipples were swollen and crushed beneath the surface of my silk blouse. There was no hiding it. My sex was clenching, my body was on fire.
“Yes, I can’t deny it . . . the idea of it makes me hot, but you know ... I want
us
to be okay.” I eyed his long, lean body, the fall of his dark blond hair on his neck. I couldn’t bear to lose this man . . . hell, I could hardly get through a day without wanting us to meld our bodies together and fuck each other senseless.
“It won’t affect anything between us, it’s just an adventure.” He began to stroke my face, pushing back my hair where it was sticking to the damp heat of my neck. “He said he will be transferring soon, so there wouldn’t be any awkwardness at work, it would just be a one-off.” My, he had thought of everything, and he’d obviously been planning the whole thing for quite a while, too. Tom lifted my chin with one finger, his thumb stroking gently over my lower lip. “He said it would be up to us, he said we could do what we wanted with him.” There was a dark, suggestive look in Tom’s
Saskia Walker
“A gimp?” Richard was a sex slave? Could it be possible? I swallowed, breathed deep and tried to make sense of what Tom had just told me. “But what does it mean . . .?” I looked up at him, spluttering the words out. “I mean, I know what it means ... I just don’t know what he means by it, by approaching us.”
Tom rested his hand reassuringly on my shoulder. There was a look of deep concern in his eyes and he was watching me carefully for my reactions. Oh, how I loved this man; when he had said he had something “a bit heavy” to talk to me about, I thought the worst was about to happen, that he was going to say there was another woman, that he was leaving me. The last thing I expected was for him to reveal this, Richard’s secret. Richard’s darkest secret.
I had actually known Richard longer than I had Tom. He had been working in the international trade department when I was transferred to the London branch, about six years earlier. Admittedly he was the dark horse in the department, and the office gossips plagued him with questions about his private life, all of which he managed to avoid and dismiss without being in the least bit offensive.
To me Richard was just a shy, reclusive guy; a small man, and very attractive in an understated way – nicely packaged, dark hair and vivid blue eyes. I just assumed he was comfortable around me because I was the only one who didn’t quiz him about his private life. That was also how I had learned more about him than the tenacious office gossips. He lived alone in an apartment overlooking the Thames and enjoyed a number of extreme sports, like acute and prolonged bouts of mountain biking, martial arts and kick boxing. I supposed that was what gave him his good packaging – the guy worked out, you know – but none of that seemed to go with his shy, understated image. Neither did this fetishistic sexuality that I had just learned about, but then . . . maybe it did kind of make sense?
I had kept the personal information he gave me to myself, which is why he liked me, I assumed; he appreciated that kind of respect. Now that I reflected on it, I guessed he had been even friendlier to me since Tom had arrived on the work scene and moved in with me two years ago; but shy single men often feel more comfortable around women who are attached. Little did I know he was observing Tom and me with this kind of proposal in mind. He wanted to be our sex slave, our gimp. My heart rate went up several notches and my body was hot, almost uncomfortably hot. I fanned myself with a magazine while trying to come to terms with the conundrum, and the rather extreme effect it was having on me – I had to admit it the idea made me horny as hell.
“Suzie, I can see you are interested, my love.” Tom folded his arms. He was standing in front of me and nodded down at my breasts, where my nipples were swollen and crushed beneath the surface of my silk blouse. There was no hiding it. My sex was clenching, my body was on fire.
“Yes, I can’t deny it . . . the idea of it makes me hot, but you know ... I want
us
to be okay.” I eyed his long, lean body, the fall of his dark blond hair on his neck. I couldn’t bear to lose this man . . . hell, I could hardly get through a day without wanting us to meld our bodies together and fuck each other senseless.
“It won’t affect anything between us, it’s just an adventure.” He began to stroke my face, pushing back my hair where it was sticking to the damp heat of my neck. “He said he will be transferring soon, so there wouldn’t be any awkwardness at work, it would just be a one-off.” My, he had thought of everything, and he’d obviously been planning the whole thing for quite a while, too. Tom lifted my chin with one finger, his thumb stroking gently over my lower lip. “He said it would be up to us, he said we could do what we wanted with him.” There was a dark, suggestive look in Tom’s
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