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I left the restaurant with Irene on my arm. She called her chauffeur on the mobile and the Mercedes pulled up at the kerb with a whisper. I opened the door for her and she slid into the leather cell with a practised action. Joining her I closed the door and turned to face.
The car pulled away from the curb with a susurration barely discernible from the inside. Irene opened her bag and pulled an envelope from it. For a moment she fumbled at the closure and then passed the photos to me.
A large house and stables, a Ferrari parked outside. These were the backgrounds of the two photos. The foreground of the one on top was a naked woman in chains and a hood with the purple marks of a savage beating on her breasts and thighs. The second was a woman of generous proportions wearing a long fur coat and holding a riding whip. A glimpse of flesh showed in the fur, a plump of sex and a rosette of nipple.
"You run a brothel?" The question slipped out involuntarily, but it was what I had been thinking of.
Irene laughed and reached to fondle me for a moment. "No not a brothel, something much more interesting!"
I must have looked a little blank as she felt that she had to elaborate. "Sex, power and satisfaction. We offer sex but not just for a straight payment for service. We train the willing and unwilling and then offer the benefits of that indoctrination to a world wide selection of exclusive clients to experience in the privacy of their own surroundings."
I did not stop her hands from slowly undoing my belt and pants. My mind wandered into realms of tension and pleasure. This woman, this sixty year old medusa was forcing people into slavery, sexual slavery and now she was fucking me. A single one of her fingernails stroked me from balls to the damp tip of my straining erection.
"Do you want me to show you how it works? How we train and force compliance? How the victims are defiled and degraded for the subtle but painful wishes of out degenerate clients? How the torture and suffering of those we force bring pleasure as the slave is violated and punished for uncommitted crimes? Does this excite you? This power to extinguish and maim, rape and ruin?"
"Yes." I whispered as the pleasure took control and Miss Clearmont took charge.
I did not feel the restraints go on my wrists and ankles, all I could feel was the hands that made my prick strain to come a second time. The soft fleeting brushes of fur on the very tip and the firm grip on my balls. By the time that she had almost brought me to come I was naked and helpless and struggling, not against the restraints, but against the gratification of orgasm being over too soon. God, it had to last forever this feeling of falling, the tales of slavery and servitude. The pleasure stopped before I came, the hands revoked their gift and the body of my evil partner withdrew from contact. For a moment I was just dazed, a quivering mass of flesh, lying on soft leather and my long discarded clothes. Then awareness came. Awareness of the cuffs that encircled my ankles and the soft pocketed gloves enclosing my hands. Both with delicate chains leading to eyelets in the upholstery. I sat up and lifted my immobilised hands.
"You are far too self centred to be a partner of mine!" she said. "I need service and attention and now I shall show you what I mean."
Still a little dazed from nearly coming I said, " You do not need to tie me down to make love to me!" but reason and argument was not a realistic strategy.
Her hand moved to the centre console of the car and pressed a knob. A small sound and I felt my legs and arms being pulled. The chains were being wound into the car and I was being stretched across the back seat in the process. Irene moved to a facing seat and watched as I was pulled and stretched, immobilised and exposed for her complete attention. She reached into a cabinet and pulled out a mask. With me struggling and begging she pulled it over my eyes and mouth. A leather hood covering my head and laced tight to unmoving grip. For a moment I struggled for air before she unplugged the brass screw mouth opening. I felt her strong hands hold my head as she screwed something else over my mouth and into the mask. Then a wrench and a tube penetrated my open mouth and forced its way over my tongue.
"Don't try to talk my bitch, that is the first lesson. The second is to relax and put yourself into my hands. You are about to please me and pleasure me. If you do well you may well be glad you did. On the other hand I am very demanding. I need to feel real volume inside me, I need to be fucked and penetrated and you are the ideal tool."
As she spoke I could feel her mounting me. At first I thought that she was going to fuck my straining cock but then she shuffled up my prone body and settled herself on the dildo that was my mouth's air supply.
Every stroke was a breath to me as her sex opened and closed the air holes running along the length of the fearsome latex device. Grasping the handle on the top of my mask she used me to satisfy herself and then again her ass. I was nothing more than a fuck doll, a tool for her pleasure and a thing for her grasping cunt to control. It decided if I could draw the very breath of life. As I gasped for air, she came with a wrench at my balls and scored my chest to bloody ribbons with her sharpened claws, a tiger coming as the staked goat shudders in terminal pain. She orgasmed not just from friction but from the frisson of my forced service.
And that is the end of the story, at least as far as I am concerned. I have passed though Miss Clearmont's business and found out that intruding on her privacy is a monumental mistake. I did solve my case but have had and will have no opportunity to pass on the fact that the missing person was trained and sold to a south American brothel. I am now on the block. Most male slaves, and there is not much demand for them, pass to the gay SM scene and do not usually last long because the scene is so cruel and because what comes so cheap is not valued. It appears that I am to be discounted to almost nothing. Use once and then throw away.
