Twos Company Threes Fun Pt 04

TWO'S COMPANY THREE'S FUN

PART 4

Again, reading previous parts will help in getting to know the characters in this story.

The house more than met our expectations in every way, including the cellars.

The ceilings and walls had been faced, but leaving the construction timbers exposed - ideal for bondage points and fixing other equipment. A new wooden floor laid offering similar options. A large wet room area with shower, washbasin and toilet, had been installed at one end, Air conditioning, heating, ventilation, focused lighting and many electric points throughout had also been put in place. The stairs had been replaced and a heavy lockable door installed at their head. In fact a perfect blank canvas, with nothing yet to indicate its real intended purpose.

Cue for a spending spree to "furnish" and equip them. With some internet research, it was amazing what could be found, including bulky items like bondage frames, whipping benches and fucking machines - expensive, but so what!! The next month was spent ordering and receiving an endless stream of items, many of which were difficult for us to handle and also needed assembling after removing them from their discreet packaging. We quickly realized that our joint DIY skills were zero.

PROBLEM, we needed male input, (pun intended), but how?

ZOE

As it happened a possible solution came from an unlikely source. In the small local town we found a unisex hairdressing salon and having neglected this while everything was going on, enquired if today was possible. Not having an appointment, they were unable to fit both of us in at the same time, but found two consecutive slots later in the day, which we accepted. Chloe opted to go first and as it was only a simple trim, I decided to wait there until she was finished.

There were the usual piles of magazines in the waiting-room, which I sifted through. Amongst them was one which was just a front and back cover, looking inside, it simply said that some of the content was of a sexual nature, therefore adult only, but a free current edition was available at the cash desk. Obviously intended mainly for the male customers. It went on to say, that if wished, a voluntary contribution could be made to the tronc which would be shared between all the staff. Intrigued, I decided to ask for a copy when I paid.

The cashier knew what she was doing and having accepted my credit card payment, passed me a fairly large envelope with just a date and code written on it together with a slip to allocate the excess of my payment between the personal gratuity and contribution for the magazine. Chloe pestered me to show what was in the envelope, not knowing myself what it was, I fobbed her off with the old Barber shop cliché "Something for the weekend Sir, or in this case Madam" until we got home.

We had seen contact mags on the top shelf of newsagent shops, but had never actually read their contents. This one seemed to be very well produced, with sections for just about everything, sex related or not. There was nothing that immediately matched our requirements, not that we were quite sure what they were. However, how about working out exactly what we did want and placing our own ad?. Free for ladies!!

Half way through the third bottle of wine, we finally agreed that although DIY skills were important, discretion was too. The best way of ensuring that seemed to be to find a man who was also into the BDSM scene, but willing to switch roles, not a dedicated sub like John. One in a million perhaps, but then so was our lottery win!! Nothing ventured... we eventually drew up an ad.

Having received everything we had ordered and from the date on the publication, were unlikely to get any replies for at least two weeks, a couple of weeks of sun, wine and doing nothing, seemed to be the order of the day. It had been quite a stressful three months, making the opportunity to unwind very attractive. Another trip to town next day to post the ad and visit a travel agency. The only thing available in the next few days was a suite in a hotel on the Algarve, Portugal. No problem and less than a 2 hour flight from a local airport, so we grabbed it.

Towards the end of the first week, we were relaxed and refreshed, and decided to investigate a local beach bar, where we were "picked up" by two young men. Little did they know what they had let themselves in for. Let's just say that they couldn't keep up - or at least not for as long as we required - acquiring very red areas in places which were not usually exposed to the sun. We hoped that when they caught their flight the next day, the seats would be comfortable.

Anyway, it released a lot of tension for us. We avoided any further similar encounters, confining ourselves to sun, sand and wine without any sex outside our bed. So, apart from the mother of all storms which rolled in from the Atlantic the day before our flight home, the rest of our stay was uneventful.

2 hour delay because of the previous day's storm, we eventually got on our flight meaning that by the time we got home it was dusk. We could just see that the gardens had been sorted and the conservatory was in place.

All that was for tomorrow. The priority was the "take-away" we had picked up on the way home and the 2 bottles of wine waiting in the fridge, but first we were confronted with a large pile of mail that had accumulated. Amongst the junk, there were 3 large manilla envelopes obviously containing a number of enclosures - the results of our advertisement.. Much as we were tempted to start opening them, food won and we decided they could wait till the morning.

We had just started to open the first envelope, when yet another similar envelope arrived! We shared them out between us and sorted the contents into three piles, no-way, worth another look and to be answered. Fortunately, we were not going to have to send many replies. There were just six worth another look, none for definite replies.

Adjourned for breakfast and more coffee. Decided to leave the discards, although some of them were a good read, but read was all!! Of the remaining six, one stood out for what it didn't say rather than a lurid description of what they would do or have done to them. In fact if the context in which it was written was not known, it would have been completely meaningless, but still managed to give us all the basic information we wanted. CLEVER AND DISCREET, we liked that a lot. It went on to say that perhaps we could arrange a meeting at a neutral venue of our choice, where we could talk freely and openly. If it turned out that if any of us did not want to take it further, no harm done. It concluded with a landline 'phone number, the dialing code of which confirmed that it was not far away.

"The best time to contact me is between 6pm and 8pm. I've got good vibes about this and really hope we can meet" Michael.

ZOE

We read and reread the letter many times, but still came to the same conclusion. It was too good to not at least meet the mysterious Michael. Chloe was not 100% convinced, so I volunteered to arrange the blind date alone. She agreed to take my word for whatever the result was. Come 6 o'clock, I was not pissed but let's say relaxed, when I dialed the number. I introduced myself and found that it was surprisingly easy to talk to Michael. I explained my partner, Chloe, would not be able to make it until next week, but that for our first meeting would it be OK I it was just me? He was fine with that and continued to be discreet in our conversation - it was just a date, but promised to be completely open when we met face-to-face. He suggested that a pub might be the best choice for meeting, preferably one which did meals, saying that if we did not wish to take things any further, at least we could, hopefully, have a pleasant evening together.

He asked if I liked a drink, I replied with my Pinocchio nose growing longer by the second, "moderately", to which he suggested that I, like him, should get a cab to the pub, so that if we had some wine with our meal we wouldn't have to worry about driving home.

Although we had not been in the locality for very long, we had found a very nice pub not very far from home which did simple but extremely good food and for the same reason had used a local cab firm quite frequently. I was not so naïve as to let myself be persuaded to share a car home with him, so arranged to be picked up by the same cab that took me there at 10.30pm. Michael knew the pub, whilst not a regular, he had been there a few times and agreed that it was a good choice. Our "date" was arranged for Thursday in two days' time.

So how would we recognize each other? Michael replied " No problem, I will be there at 7 o'clock, wearing a pink shirt and green tie and just to be sure, I will be doing the crossword in the Financial Times - a broadsheet printed on pink paper - with a green pen. Fool-proof!! Unless you don't like what you see and choose to ignore me.".

The "pink shirt and green tie" would come back to haunt me. We broke our unwritten rules that evening, I got paralytic and Chloe took advantage. I must have passed out and had a vivid dream that I was being gang-raped by an endless succession of men all dressed in pink shirts and green ties. She must have got me upstairs before I was completely incapable, as when I regained some sort of awareness, I was in one our spare bedrooms, which we were using as a playroom until the cellar area had been sorted out. I felt that there was something in my mouth, which I tried to remove but found that I was securely tied spreadeagled on the bed unable to move my arms or legs. As I became more awake, I found that I had been dildo-gagged and that there were also didoes buzzing away in my pussy and arse. In spite of everything, I felt an orgasm building, which was when I realized that Chloe was in the room.

She applied a wand to my clit which quickly brought me off. When I came down, she removed the three dildoes, but instead of releasing me, she simply rotated them to different places - the one that had been in my arse was now in my mouth. "That will teach you not to get completely pissed. Just another half-dozen to go" she said laughingly. True to her word, this was repeated again and again - no wonder that I had dreamed I was being gang-raped!!

After about two more hours, she eventually relented and released me to sleep it off.

By the next evening I had weaned myself off paracetamol and felt almost human again. To be fair my woes were mostly self-inflicted, not a result of Chloe's ministrations. It had not put me off tomorrow's "blind date", but neither had it tempted Chloe to pass on her squash match to join me.

So what to wear, the eternal female dilemma. I wanted to look sexy but not tarty - adjourned till the next day. Still not resolved, over an hour deciding what lingerie to wear even though it was very unlikely to be seen Chloe had left for her squash match and my cab was due in less than an hour. It was not helped by the fact that we had had quite a spending spree on expensive clothes - spoilt for choice!. Finally the decision had to be made and I was ready just in time.

MICHAEL

My cab arrived a bit early leaving half an hour to do a 15 minute journey. It was a warm evening making a jacket superfluous and the tie would have also been discarded if it had not been part of my identification. I remembered to pick up the FT, but the pen was a bit of a problem, not having any suitable pockets. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Anyway I could discreetly lose it after it had served its purpose. The bar was quite empty at that time, so finding a table in a quiet corner was not a problem. Having got some Dutch courage from the bar in the form of a whisky and ginger, I settled down at the table and continued to do the crossword, which I had started whilst on the way home from work - a normal routine.

An hour later, or that's what it felt like, in fact only a few minutes, an extremely attractive young woman came into the bar. Probably about 5'10" tall with the 2" heels on her calf length boots. She was wearing a fairly short skirt finishing just above the knee, with a sort of waistcoat tailored to sit below and support her well-proportioned breasts, which were covered by a cream blouse showing just a hint of cleavage. The skirt, waistcoat and boots were all of matching brown leather. Her long nearly blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail with a similar leather thong. If she was wearing any make-up, it was so well applied that it looked perfectly natural. Everything about her said expensive but tasteful, and "tasty"!!

She took a quick look round the room, but immediately brought me back down to earth by going to the bar and chatting with the man serving her with what looked like a spritzer. They obviously knew each other quite well. If it was a tease, it was a very good one, as she eventually picked up her glass and came over to my table.

ZOE/MICHAEL

"Sorry about that, must keep in the Landlord's good books. No prizes for guessing that you are Michael" Zoe said as she sat alongside me. Picking up the paper she filled in one of the remaining answers before turning to the front page to check the date. "No cheating then, it is today's."

"OK, it tends to get busy in about half an hour, let's get down to the nitty-gritties while we can talk freely. As I started all this, I will begin. Firstly, I prefer to use the good old Anglo-Saxon rather than medical terms, it saves any misunderstanding and anyway seems more appropriate in the circumstances. I liked the fact that you made yourself very easy to find in spite of some initial reservations about the pink, green combination. There's a story attached to that which I will tell you later, if we are still talking - I hope we are". "So what are your first impressions of me?"

"You don't really have to ask that, you know that you look great and I too hope that we are, at least still talking by the end of the evening," Michael replied.

"Right," Zoe continued, "As the ad said we are into pretty advanced BDSM. That doesn't mean that we have had a lot of partners, quite the opposite, our experiences have developed with our respective husbands over the best part 10 years - we are still technically married, but have been separated for about 6 months now after our marriages had gone completely stale. Fortunately there are no children, so the break-up was not too difficult and made even easier as Chloe and I have, fairly recently, jointly won a lot of money on the Lottery, I mean a LOT".

"Let's go down the list. I am pretty confident that you are in no way naïve. Crybaby, I doubt it, but can you describe the most severe whipping you have received or given" she asked.

After a little thought, I replied " There are two that come to mind, very different in the way they were administered, but with similar final results."

"For the first, I was made to strip and lie face down spreadeagled on a bed with a firm cushion under my thighs, presenting my buttocks in a very inviting way. I was not restrained in any way at that time. My Mistress had selected 5 different instruments. A heavy wide leather strap, a carpet beater, a riding crop, a 3ft cane and a fairly heavy cat."

"Before starting, she had reminded me that I had wanted it to be very severe and it was. She gave me 3 hard strokes with each of the instruments. I had just about managed to stay in place."

"She had seemed quite impressed that I had taken it without trying to end the session, telling me that for the second part, I would be fully restrained and have no option but to take another 15 strokes. She made it clear that I could chicken out then and there, but once tied down, no second chances, to which I had indicated that I understood and that she could continue."

"My hands were tied firmly behind my back before being made to turn over, my tied hands acting like a cushion. My legs were then pulled back over my shoulders and secured tightly to the top of the bed, my bondage being completed with a gag. There was no escape from the relentless whipping that followed."

"Before releasing me, she had forced a large vibrator into my arse, expertly finding my prostate, which had, combined with a wand, quickly brought me off in spite of everything."

"The whole session had only lasted for about half an hour and her parting words had been, that if I wanted another session it would be longer next time, so that she could fully satisfy herself as well as me."

" I had indeed tried to contact her a few months later and was not quite sure if I was disappointed or relieved when the phone number was no longer available."

"The second had been quite different. I had comfortable lined cuffs strapped on my wrists and ankles and had been tied, not too tightly, face down on the bed. Again there had been number of different instruments used, but with only the occasional really severe stroke. What it lacked in quality, it had more than made up in quantity. I had no idea how many strokes I had received, but it was 2 hours before I was released with an equally red, black and blue arse which had not completely healed for 6 weeks.".

I explained to Zoe that I had had less opportunity to be giving rather than receiving and those occasions were mostly spontaneous and improvised, so were in no way particularly severe. However I had enjoyed them and would look forward to being able to be more expressive.

Having listened attentively Zoe remarked, "If those descriptions are true and I have no reason to disbelieve you, that would seem to more than tick the cry-baby box. So that leaves squeamish, which you were not quite sure about. Let me explain in a bit more detail."

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AUTHORS NOTE

The next paragraph contains references to SCAT, so if you are offended by that or it is just not to your taste (pun intended), please don't abandon the story, as it is not its main theme.

In my opinion this practice, if carried out only occasionally between healthy adults, is no more likely to be harmful than a long open mouth kiss and I think that normal urine is virtually sterile. Having said that, I have seen stories that detail forced feeding by a number of strangers. If their author has actually experienced that, which I very much doubt, I'm surprised they survived to tell the tale. However, because of its taboo nature, it can, in the right circumstances, be very exciting and demonstrate absolute trust between the participants.

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"First, we are not into having a sub in a collar and leash being made to crawl round the floor and eat a bowl of dog-food, Nor do we make them earn what I believe the Hell's Angels call their Red Wings. Neither of us are particularly horny during our menstrual periods, which we have been able to make more or less coincide. As you have probably guessed, it involves piss and shit, not as uncommon as most people think. In your letter you implied you had some experience of the former, but through lack of opportunity, rather than deliberate avoidance, you had not been made to go further than anal sucking and tonguing."

"Whilst it is not a frequent practice for us, it is not ruled out. We have found that a fairly large firm turd wrapped in a pair of lacy panties and strapped into the mouth, makes a very effective gag, So that is likely to be the way you are introduced to our shit. You will of course be tied down and probably given a long slow whipping at the same time. You will find that the longer it is in place the tastier it becomes"!!

Michael replied that although he had not done that with another person, he had experimented with his own shit, so was familiar with the flavour. However, not being able to fully restrain himself, he found that he could not resist masturbating and had cum much too quickly.