'Delayed Meeting'19:00 Apr 13 2008
Times Read: 1,128
~ Contains come adult themes ~
“Virgin railways would like to apologise for the delay to your journey.” It had been the second announcement in half an hour, during the last hour the train had been stationary.
Meanwhile, in an expensive hotel someone was getting anxious.
But I’m late, on a train somewhere between Warrington and Liverpool and there’s nothing I can do about it, except look out of the window, at some cows amongst some very wide expanse of green, either side of the tracks.
So that’s what I do.
Again, that message comes over the tannoy and I look across to the woman to my left, a bit further ahead. She has her nylon-clad legs crossed and was tapping her right fingers on the small table-top in front of her.
“Nothing to be done about it,” I said with a smile.
“You talking to me?” she snapped.
“Uh-huh. Why not? The carriage is almost empty and we have time to pass.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she conceded, blithely.
For a moment the smartly-dressed brunette looked me squarely in the eyes, then she stopped rapping her fingertips.
She was wearing a dark blue suit, dark hose and heels. She was dressed for business I thought, for a second, that’s all. After all, one could hardly tell my chosen vocation from my dress sense. So, who was I to assume such things of another.
“You going far?” I asked, anxious to hear her anxious to hear her accent again.
“That a proposition?” she responded, with a twinkle in her eyes and the barest hint of a smile on her scarlet-painted lips.
“A query!” I answered with a grin.
“You?” She asked.
“Liverpool. Or, as far as you’ll let me …” I kept the grin.
“Business, or pleasure?” she quizzed, now with a few creases at the corners of her beautiful mouth.
“Can’t they be both?” I responded. I just had to, briefly thinking of Lucy, waiting for me. I’d arranged to meet her well over half an hour ago. By now she was in handcuffs and waiting to be unlocked from them. I have the key, of course.
“Perhaps it can,” she admitted, with a smile.
It’d been a struggle, but worth it. The brunette’s smile was gorgeous.
“Oh yes and I can vouch for that,” I guaranteed.
“Can you now?” Both eyebrows rose this time.
Lucy was the business and my pleasure, very much so at that.
“Well aren’t you the lucky one, to be in such a job?” she enquired, and then added the inevitable question.
“So what do you do then?” She asked, but would I choose to answer?
Of course I would. Why not?
Besides, I wanted to know what would happen to her smile when I told her.
“Tell me your name and I’ll tell you what I do to earn a crust…” I had guessed by now where her accent came from, Canada. Or, perhaps it was American; though I was surer of it being Canadian.
“And you are?” the brunette asked, sweeping left hand fingers through her hair.
“Jack Masters, kind of ironic really…” I grinned, as I’d answered.
An eyebrow raised shot up in amused puzzlement.
“Joyce Devereux, pleased to meetcha,” she pronounced.
Easing from where I sat, I crossed the aisle to seat myself opposite Joyce. Then I leant forward, my elbows on the table, my hands clasped together, both forefingers steepled together.
Resting my chin on my fingers and spoke to Joyce, in a low conspiratorial voice.
“Masters my name, Master by trade.”
Joyce mirrored my stance and lean forward a little.
“What do you mean Jack?” She asked in a tone to match my own.
There was something about that accent; I just adored her saying my name.
“It’s my name and it’s what I do,” I assured her brightly, “and would be doing now, if I wasn’t running so late.”
Her fingertips, that touched the back of my hand were like an electronic shock.
“Do tell me more,” she said seductively, she said with a voice of liquid honey.
All of a sudden I wanted to talk.
Her hand still where she placed it, I soon began to tell Joyce the story.
I told her how I’d found an old copy of Forum magazine; then as I flicked through it, noticed the amount of ad.’s from Mistresses; and realised there were a lack of Masters, offering their services, as it were.
Then noticing a trace of a smile on Joyce’s face, as I told her my story, I wondered whether I should finish the tale. So, I asked: “Do you want me to get to today?”
“Oh, by all means,” she enthused.
“Well, I put an ad. in the magazine myself and soon I was in business.”
I was breathless by the time I finished.
Yet, the toe of her shoe-heel against the inside of my left ankle brought me to full awareness. That had not been expected, not at all.
“Now, tell me about this appointment you’re missing?” She prompted.
I exhaled, long and hard.
“Well, Lucy is a new client … wants bondage mainly; and a bit of verbal; testing her boundaries sort of thing …” I told Joyce and added, “you know?”
Gawd knows why I’d said that, but I had: and it had led to my second surprise, in just over five minutes.
“Yes, I know exactly what you mean.”
At that moment the carriage shunted forward, then backward and Joyce grasped my wrist and the back of my hand: “We are sorry for the additional delay and added journey time. But, for reasons of onboard technical difficulty we have to return to the previous station, Warrington.”
At this announcement my heart sank. Running-late was one thing, such a delay could be very distressing, for Lucy.
“Bugger!” I exclaimed.
“So, why so anxious? Joyce asked with a furrowed brow and a light smile.
“Why?” ‘Guilt perhaps?’
“As I said, I have someone waiting, to be freed.”
Joyce continued to hold my hand, as she sat back, to ponder on what I’d told her.
So she expected to wait?”
“Hardly this long,” I responded with a wan smile.
“Is she safe?” she asked.
I smiled as I thought about it.
“Well as safe as an attractive naked young woman can, who’s handcuffed in a hotel room,” I told her, bristling with annoyance at the turn of events.
“Well, turn it to you advantage,” she suggested, after a moment or two.
It was evident to me that Joyce could teach me something here, if I was bothered to listen. I was.
“What do you mean Joyce?” I asked curiously.
She didn’t answer. Instead, Joyce chose to start rummaging inside her capacious shoulder-bag. Then she looked at me and smiled.
“It’s nice to meet a fellow ‘Master Of The Trade’, as it were,” she said, digging out her mobile phone.
“Helen honey, I need a chauffeur, Now. Where? Warrington Station, soon.”
With her mobile phone bag in her bag, Joyce looked at me and smiled broadly.
“Seems like you’ve got help with your problem. Alright Jack?”
‘Alright’? If Joyce could see me through this, she was a real lifesaver: that much was for sure.
“My car will meet us at the station..” she assured me calmly.
Metaphorically, I was mouth agape.
And true to what she’d told me, come disembarkation, Joyce guided us through the station with unerring ease through the crowds, towards the station exit.
It’d been just like the parting of the Red Sea. She’d a presence to her that people responded immediately. I’d seen this as I’d followed in her wake, to the kerbside outside the station and her car, an old-style Jaguar, in racing green. I thought the car was beautiful and told her so.
“Hmmm,” she grinned, “you haven’t seen my driver yet.
The woman who walked round the car, to open doors, for Joyce and myself, seemed to tower over us both; as she stood there resplendent in her dark blue peak cap and black thigh-high, high-heeled fuck-me boots, made of the finest Italian leather.
Other than that, she wore a black corselet, over a body-stocking, also in black.
Over both she wore a smart jacket, which matched the cap.
Her sparkling brown eyes matched the woman’s olive complexion and the little make-up she wore emphasised her high cheekbones and full lips.
She had lowered her gaze at our approach, with eyes fixed on our every move.
“This is Bella Morte, my driver,” Joyce had announced, with smile and a light gesture of her right hand.
Bella had driven well once we were comfortably sat in the back and the smooth ride came no way near to spilling the champagne that had been poured and waited for us.
Then on the way back to the ‘Pool, Joyce reminded me of the ‘good cop, bad cop’ scenario; and with a little coaching I began to see what she intended.
Finally we were not at The Adelphi, not the best hotel in Liverpool, yet it certainly has one of the grandest facades.
Bella pulled up outside and Joyce gently squeezed my right thigh.
“It’ll be fine,” she reassured me, with a smile.
I couldn’t help but have more than a few butterflies as Bella held the door open, for us to get out, then I walked up the main steps to the hotel entrance, with Joyce at my side; then I walked up to the main desk and asked for the key to the room.
We entered the hall quietly, and then entered the front room, where I expected to find Lucy, waiting for me. She was.
The young slim blonde lay on her side on the white hearth-rug, her wrists cuffed behind her long back, her ankles also similarly restrained. She was naked, as I’d instructed and the gas flame-effect fire cast moving shadowlight over her nubile body. She looked a delight to the eyes.
“Lucy,” I said, announcing my presence, “turn over.”
She rolled, to face me and it became immediately apparent from her red cheeks and puffy eyes that she had been crying, for quite awhile.
I knelt by her side, running my right hand over her pert breasts, pinching each nipple in turn. Lucy’s warm body quivered at my touch.
“Pretty girlie looks upset..” Joyce observed, as she walked into Lucy’s eyeline.
“Think she wondered why she waited so long,” I suggested, as I stood to allow Joyce to take my place.
“Tell me little one, what was worse, the expectation of this moment, or this moment arriving?” Joyce asked Lucy, as she ran her right hand through her long blonde hair and over her birdbone shoulders.
When the tearful blonde didn’t answer straight away, Joyce’s face darkened, as she straightened up.
“Answer, now!” She snapped.
Lucy looked up with baleful eyes toward where I’d chosen to stand, with my arms crossed, wearing a neutral face. She was unsure of where she stood with Joyce and the pretty young thing had to learn, as I had.
“The expectation..”
“The expectation, what?” I asked, in a quiet voice.
“The expectation, Mistress…” replied with a quaver in her voice.
Joyce turned to me and without Lucy being able to see her expression, she grinned.
“See, the delay was worth it Jack, now your client is beginning to understand.”
Turning to crouch by my client, Joyce stroked her hair as she began to speak softly to her: “There’s such much you can learn of yourself my little one, through being open, to your own needs and desires,” Joyce said to Lucy with a curt tone, then looked sideways at me and winked.
‘Oh-boy,’ I’d mused, ‘seems I may learn a few more things here.’
And so it had continued, throughout the evening, with a Mistress, the Master of the situation, as Joyce taught me more of the submission and domination of another, than any magazine, or website could ever teach me.
The next morning must have found Joyce and myself in a similar situation, alone in their bed, attended by an attractive submissive; strangers who had met on a train, with the knowledge of a shared connection and I wondered if she too would wake with a smile, as I did.
COMMENTS
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Sinora
20:44 May 01 2008
Nice x