The Craftsman Ch 07

Resume: I work in leather servicing the Fetish/BDSM community. My work is bespoke, made to measure, and hand crafted at every stage of the process. My clients demand, and get complete confidentiality at all times. Each piece is unique, made exclusively for that one special woman who has been measured by me personally. No item leaves my workshop until it has been fitted and adjusted to the clients complete satisfaction.

I was toiling away in my workshop one afternoon, when the bell 'chimed' telling me the front door of my shop had just been opened. I looked up at the screen of my CCTV camera to see a man wearing a business suit and tie, accompanied by a woman dressed entirely in black from head to foot enter the shop. I hurried through to the front shop and asked if I could be of any service to them

He was about six feet tall, obviously middle eastern in appearance. His suit looked very expensive, crisp white shirt and tie, gold cuff links and what looked like top of the range gold Rolex watch. He was, it seemed to me on first glance, typical of the Arab businessmen or aristocracy who were incredibly wealthy and saw London as their playground. He had that air of entitlement and arrogance that often comes with wealth.

'I am looking for a specific item, and wonder if you could make, or source what I am looking for. You have done work for business associates of mine, and you are highly recommended, not only for your work but for your discretion.' I nodded as he spoke, wondering what he wanted. I presumed it was for the victim of male oppression that stood silently like a ghost by his side, dressed in a shapeless black robe that covered her from head to toe with just an eye slit for her to look out of. She looked submissively at the floor, so I couldn't even see her eyes properly.

'Yes, I can possibly help,' I answered. 'What exactly is that you are looking for sir? I asked him warily

'I have to leave London for a few days every month, and leave my wife behind occasionally,' he explained. 'I trust her, but there are certain predatory members of my family and colleagues who I do not trust. I want something that will protect her from them. Can you make it?' I was beginning to get an inkling of what he was talking about, but I decided to let him spit it out himself.

'Well, that all depends on what you require sir,' I answered in a non-comital way. He looked at the vision beside him, and she looked at him, nodding as he spoke. He looked slightly exasperated as he spoke rapidly in what I presumed was Arabic. When he finished speaking she turned and looked at me with eyes so dark they looked black, and then she spoke for the first time.

'He wants you to make a chastity belt to protect me when he is back in the middle east. His brother and two of his cousins have already tried to seduce me and failed. They are filthy animals, and he fears they may try to take me by force when he is away. Please help us,' she finished. Her voice was liquid gold, and gave a me a hard-on just listening to her. Low and husky, well-modulated, and with an upper class, 'received pronunciation,' accent which told me she may be of Arab or middle eastern origin, but she had been educated in England and gone to all the right private schools.

'Yes, I can easily make that. I've made a few before, but that was for what I would call more "recreational" purposes. This of course would be a much more serious proposition, and would have to be far more robust to offer reasonable protection, and more comfortable too if it is to be worn for days at a time.'

'Yes, we know this,' he said impatiently, 'how soon can you make it? I may be called away at any moment, and it's important that she has it before then.' Before I could answer, his phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket, glanced at it, help up his hand, in a gesture that said, stop talking. 'I have to take this,' he said, and turning away, stepped outside the door of the shop. I looked at her, she looked at me.

'It's always like this, that damned phone never stops ringing,' and as she said it her eyes told me she was smiling behind that damned veil. She reached up, and fiddled with it, and the cloth fell away to reveal one of the most beautiful faces I've ever seen. Her skin was of a light honey gold, light eye make-up accentuated the almond shape of her big dark eyes. The mouth was full and sensual, her chin strong and determined, the nose was slightly on the long side, but gave her face something that true feminine beauty requires, interest and character. I looked at the door, an enquiring look on my face, thinking he may be displeased that she'd unveiled in front of me. She understood straight away that I was worried about her, not him, and she laughed, swiftly looking behind her to check that he was out of earshot. 'He can have no complaints,' she said quietly, 'you'll be seeing much more then my face in a few minutes. It's what he wants, this damned belt after all is his idea, not mine.'

'Yes, I suppose that's true. I'll have to measure you very precisely and thoroughly to ensure your utmost comfort if you are being forced to wear something that is little more than a barbaric torture device,' I said. 'Most women I deal with wear these things for the pleasure aspect for an hour or two, but you may have to wear this for days. I'll try my best to make it with as much thought and care for your comfort as I can.' She gave me a devastating smile, showing me her perfect white teeth.

'Thank you sir, you are so very kind. I wish I was wearing this for the pleasure aspect you spoke of, but regrettably not, and I'm very grateful for your concern,' and she reached out and touched my hand in a reassuring gesture, knowing the voluminous nature of her garment, masked what she was doing to anyone who may be behind her, and just then he came back in, slipping the phone into his inner breast pocket.

'Now where were we?' he asked brusquely, and I reminded him that he had been asking how long it would take to make. 'Ah, yes, how long would it take for you to make it? This is urgent,' he stated.

I told him if I dropped everything else I was doing, I could have it ready by the end of the week, but that would incur a premium rate, as I would have to delay and make excuses to other customers. 'When it comes to protecting my beautiful wife,' and he looked at her, standing there with eyes downcast once more looking so very modest and submissive, finally noticing she had removed her veil for the first time. 'My beautiful wife, as you can see,' he repeated, 'money is of no importance. Please make this as soon as possible,' and so I agreed to make the belt as he wished, and lead them through to what I grandly called my consulting room.

'You understand of course that I will have to make very detailed measurements of your wife's body if she is to wear this belt for days at a time. So, please think of me as you would a doctor or a gynaecologist. I am very professional, and have made similar intimate measurements of many, many, women. It's just another job for me,' I lied, knowing the leather apron I wore should conceal my raging hardness at the prospect of measuring this absolute goddess of a woman so intimately.

'Yes, yes, I understand. She is fully prepared to be measured, she knows what she will have to do, and I will stay with her, I will be in the room too,' he stated. I nodded in agreement, having expected nothing less. I gestured to a chair, indicating where he should sit during the measuring process, and he sat where I indicated. It meant that he'd actually be behind his wife as I measured her. I opened my desk drawer and removed a writing pad, pen, tape measure and order form. All this time she stood silently by his side. I looked at her, she winked at me with a slight smile on her beautiful face. She was no empty headed beauty this Arabian 'princess,' no mindless, 'eye candy.' This woman had a mind of her own, no matter that she appeared submissive and compliant when he was around. Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part, but I felt we had made some unspoken connection in the minute or two that we had shared when he had been out of the room.

'Please stand here,' I said, indicating that she should come to me, and she looked at him as if seeking his permission. Clever girl, I thought, she's making him think he was still in charge. He nodded, and she stepped forward even managing somehow to look as if she was doing this reluctantly. She stopped about a foot away from me, and I could no longer see him since she had stood between me and him.

'Please lift or open your garment,' I suggested, and once more she looked round at him as if seeking his permission, and in a plaintive little voice said she was so embarrassed. He said something I didn't understand, and she replied sounding as if she was being the dutiful wife, then turned back to me, smiling wickedly, giving me that conspiratorial wink again. Reaching down, she grasped the hem of her robe, and very slowly raised it a little higher, revealing beautiful trim ankles, great legs I thought, inordinately pleased that this vision of loveliness had the legs to match the face. Her legs were smooth, obviously waxed, or more likely 'sugared,' which is the traditional middle eastern method of female depilation. She hesitated for a moment and once again, she looked back over her shoulder at him in a 'do I really have to do this,' kind of way, and he spoke to her, his voice a little raised, sounding impatient, and she somehow managed to make her shoulders slump as if giving in reluctantly to the inevitable.

It was all an act for his benefit. She turned back to me with that wonderful smile on her face again, and continued to slowly raise the hem of her dress. I smiled back at her to let her know that I knew what she was up to, and she continued to raise her hem very slowly. Now she was teasing me, she was enjoying this, and smiling all the while as she did it.

'I'm sorry sir,' she said in that same submissive little voice, 'but I'm finding this very... embarrassing, really embarrassing,' she added for emphasis, but the wicked grin on her face said quite the opposite, and I knew she was lying for his benefit, but actually loving every second of it. All the while the hemline crept agonisingly higher, teasing me. Her slim thighs were as wonderful as her ankles with that 'thigh gap' finally indicating that we were just millimetres away from her pussy and the big revelation. She hesitated for long seconds making me wait for it, and as I looked intently at that promising thigh gap, something glistened on the inside of her thighs. She was wet, and very turned on if she was wet enough to coat the inside of her thighs with her own juices, and then she tugged her dress waist high in one final swift movement, revealing to my hungry gaze, the sweetest, wettest pussy, I'd seen for quite some time. It was entirely denuded of any hair, her full-lipped labia pouted provocatively, and drooled her wetness. The lips had swollen and parted, she was highly aroused and looked as if she was ready to be fucked. All I wanted to do at that instant was lean forward and taste her wonderful love nectar, and worship at the cunt of my Arabian goddess. She searched my face for my reaction at seeing her private and secret place, but it was a double secret, given that she was so very, very, wet. She smiled again, obviously pleased by what she read in my face and eyes. I lifted my hands, palms together in almost a 'prayer' gesture, then opened them wider as I winked at her for a change.. She knew immediately what I meant, and readjusted her stance, opening her legs to give me a better view of the amazing pussy.

Her pussy lips opened even wider and almost instantly, the wetness that had collected within drooled out and began to form a thread of thick viscous pussy juice that elongated as I watched and hung suspended from her labia. It continued to get longer until it broke under its own weight and dropped to the carpet, only to be replaced by more fluid that was flowing from her in such an astonishing display. I was almost mesmerised by how quickly the new thread formed, and once again dripped on the floor. I was broken out of my reverie, by his phone ringing once more. Again his hand came up in that universal, 'halt' gesture, he listened for a moment, stood up, edging for the door, he looked at us.

'Do nothing until I return,' he commanded and went back out into the main shop area, and we heard the bell on the door tinkle We were alone. She moaned aloud; the tension broken.

'Oh god I'm so fucking horny,' she whimpered. 'I'm dying here, please touch me, I need you to touch me, even if only for a few seconds,' she pleaded. I did better than that, I slipped down off my office chair, and slipped my hands round behind her, feeling the silken smooth skin of her bottom. On any other occasion, I would have spent ages just luxuriating in the sensation of touching that sublimely wonderful skin, but today wasn't that day. I cupped her arse cheeks and pulled her towards me, and did what I'd been longing to do since the first glimpse of her wetness. I buried my face between her legs and drank at my very own 'wishing well.' She moaned quietly as I drank in her fluids and tongued her clitoris, thrusting herself against this oh so welcome intruder. If anything, her flow increased with the direct stimulation, and she was trembling all over with excitement, thrusting, thrusting, rubbing her pussy and essence into my mouth and I slipped two fingers into her soft wet hole, finding and gently massaging her g-spot. She gasped and moaned, sounding to me as if she was on her way to an orgasm, and then the shop doorbell went, 'ting,' and we hurriedly broke apart. Me back on my chair, quickly wiping her wetness from my face, and swivelled back towards my desk as if I was writing something in a writing pad. As if... as if I could think of anything else with this half naked beauty standing before me. She had modestly dropped her dress when she heard the doorbell, and took a step back, presenting him with a tableau of innocence when he came back into the room. He told us to carry on, and we did.

Once again she lifted, her dress slowly, an even bigger grin back on her face as she displayed herself proudly for me. I took the tape measure, and now I was all business, measuring her waist, the circumference of her slim thighs, just below her pussy. The distance form the back of the belt to the front where the straps would have to pass between her legs. The backs of my hands and fingers were soon covered in her wetness again as she continued to flow. I said nothing, and she continued to show an impassive back to her husband, but her legs were trembling with arousal, shaking as I went about my business. It didn't help that she had reached down, while managing to hold her dress up with one hand, and gently taken my hand, guiding it to her pussy, holding it tightly against herself while my fingers momentarily disappeared between her labia. Her outward control to her husband was impressive to say the least. Soon I had taken all the measurements I needed and was about to announce that the measuring was done. I couldn't in all honesty draw it out any longer, no matter how reluctant I was to end our wicked little collaboration, and then his phone rang again. Once more the 'halt' gesture was made, and again he hurried out, phone clasped to his ear, leaving us alone again, her with her dress still at waist level, and me still with a raging hardness in my cock.

The door-chime rang on his way out, and I almost literally threw myself back between her legs. She spread her legs wider to give me better access, and within seconds she was as aroused as before. My mouth and fingers did their best to accomplish what I thought was impossible in the time we had, make her come. I had underestimated her - she went rigid, shaking and trembling, gasping for breath, and I knew she was coming uncontrollably but silently. It must have taken an impressive amount of will to come as powerfully as that and make no noise, but she managed it. We just has time for her to whisper to me before he arrived back in my consulting room. 'Be sure to keep a spare key for yourself please.' I could have kissed her with sheer joy and gratitude if he hadn't come back seconds later.

Over the next couple of days I worked most diligently on completing their order, and sent him a text when the item was complete. Within the hour they arrived for the fitting, and I produced the belt I had made in black leather. I also stressed to him that although he had neglected to instruct me to do so, I had used only cow hide, knowing that his religion forbade any item made from pigskin. He thanked me profusely for my good sense and consideration. He looked highly delighted with it and in the privacy of my consulting room she once again hoisted her skirt waist high and stepped into the straps. She pulled it up and I adjusted the belt around her waist, but not before noticing she was wet again. I had a surreptitious feel of her pussy as I helped her adjust it in place, and she mouthed a silent, 'thank you,' with a grin on her face. I discreetly pointed to the key hanging on a string round my neck, and her face lit up with an even bigger smile. Once the belt was in place, and I checked that it was secure and comfortable for her, I made a show of locking it securely and handing him the two keys for unlocking it. Her pussy was now captive to all intents and purposes, and try as he might he could not gain access to her golden treasure. He positively beamed and congratulated me on my workmanship, and finally paid the balance owing to me. I thanked him very much, and they turned to leave with her trailing behind submissively as usual. I removed my leather worker's apron as I saw them to the door, and came up close behind her, unzipping myself, reaching for her hand and placed my hard cock in it, she glanced round at me smiling, and quickly stroked me back and forth two, three times, then let go, and licked her fingers. I knew it was a promise of what was to come, when that would be, I didn't know, but soon I hoped.

On the following Monday afternoon, I heard the shop doorbell chime, and hurried through from my work room. There was a young woman standing looking at some of the whips and paddles, slightly turned away from me, and when I asked her if I could help her she turned to me with a smile.

'You could unlock this damned belt for a start,' she said, hoisting her skirt waist high and showing me my own handiwork. It was her, but wearing normal every day clothing, little wonder then that I didn't recognise her at first. A smart black jacket and a loose yellow dress, with black patent high heel shoes. Her thick lustrous black hair fell in cascades past her shoulders, and if I thought she looked stunning before, well, she looked even better now. She came towards me, and I stepped out from behind the counter to welcome her to my shop once more. She came into my arms, where I held her for a moment or two before she reached up on tiptoe, put her arms round my neck and kissed me. Full force, holding nothing back. She pushed her tongue against my lips, and we were kissing passionately for long moments. I caressed her back and sides and felt her shiver. When we stopped momentarily, I broke away from her embrace, but only to lock the shop door.

'Come through to the back shop,' I said, taking her hand. She followed me without hesitation, and I locked the inner shop door too. I led her over to the couch where we both sat down, and then she turned to look at me, her dark eyes held mine for long moments without speaking, and I for my part didn't want to break the spell. She was giving me the full force of her smile, and I knew I was grinning like an idiot for absolutely no reason other than the fact that she was there.