Lucinda Dupoint possessed both pride and scruples. She also however possessed the ability to swallow the former and disregard the latter whenever it suited her.
When asked, she always said that she adored her husband. She adored him for providing the holidays, the champagne breakfasts, the black cab account, the dainty food served at the poshest restaurants, theatre, the opera, a career that consisted of “doing lunch,” and she especially adored the way his job yanked him out of the country for days, sometimes weeks on end, something that provided her with the opportunity to both have her cake and eat it.
Lucinda performed a certain ritual each time his business took him away. She removed his photograph from the bedside table and placed it on the floor facing the toilet, propped up at a forty-five degree angle, or as near as dammit. Every time she had to spend a penny, or evacuate the remnants of the copious luxuries she consumed on a daily basis from her bowels, she would say to the beaming image of her husband as she raised her skirt and wriggled down her knickers, ‘This is a part of me you cannot buy.’
She selected an expensive, yet simply designed knee-length jet-black wrap-around dress to wear, knowing that when she crossed one leg over the other - a manoeuvre she performed with practised elegance - one part of the skirt would fall away from the other to reveal her pale slender thigh and so give the object of her flirtations a cock-twitching glimpse of what Lucinda liked to call the “dark and the light.” Bewitching.
Beneath her dress she wore a triad of sin-inducing underwear, black stockings, so fine they might have been woven from fairy wings, a black lace suspender belt with dimante fasteners, and a tiny thong that clung like a cobweb to her dense tangle of coppery pubic hair. She did not wear a bra.
As she applied the final layer of lip-gloss, mascara, and blusher, her nipples began to rise like two miniature soufflés in anticipation of her visit. The letter had arrived the week before informing her about her check-up, which was something of a surprise to say the least, considering the intimate relationship she shared with the author. Still, she was twenty-five years old and enjoyed playing games, so went along with it. After a little thought, she decided that it was a symptom of how her body had affected him. ‘You’re mine,’ she hissed at her reflection.
The last two things she did before leaving the house was to squeeze her feet into a pair of black needle-heeled stilettos and remove her wedding ring. Being married to someone else was a thing that certain lovers disapproved off. Lucinda did not want to blow it.
Her pert breasts shifted tantalisingly inside her dress when she sashayed into the sumptuous Harley Street surgery. But he wasn’t there to greet her as usual. There was one nurse on duty. Her naturally brown skin made Lucinda feel jealous. No amount of trips to the tropics and sunbed treatments could ever give her a tan to compare. ‘I’ve an appointment with Mr Carter,’ Lucinda said curtly.
The Indian nurse flashed her a smile. Her glorious skin colour made her teeth appear to glow, further irritating Lucinda. ‘Number three,’ she said, but Lucinda had already left the reception area and was striding down the corridor towards Mr Carter’s surgery.
Like the others in the practice, surgery number three was a windowless roomy cell of white marble filled with spot-lit trays of bright satin steel instruments, which all looked as if they had been designed by a medieval mind and then fashioned with a vicious hand. The only furniture was the luxurious leather dentist’s chair and a matching stool that the dentist sat on.
He was twiddling his thumbs nervously when she entered. She greeted him with a kiss. Her hand automatically slipped between his legs as her tongue flickered over his lips. She smiled, feeling his bulge tighten. But he pushed her hand away. Lucinda pouted. ‘What’s wrong? Aren’t you pleased to see me?’
‘As always, but I’m working,’ he seemed pre-occupied, eager to start, somewhat nervous.
‘I do love a man in uniform,’ she cooed.
‘Get on the chair please,’ he replied. It was an order, not an invitation.
His lack of interest perplexed her. Usually within two minutes of meeting him she had her skirt hitched up around her waist and was clinging onto his neck for dear life while he pumped his fat old cock in and out of her like a horny teenager. This time different. Then she remembered the letter. He was playing a game, keeping in character.
‘Get on the chair madam,’ he repeated firmly, ‘I’m losing patience with you.’
The unfamiliar edge to his voice was strangely exciting. She could feel herself becoming aroused. ‘Ok doctor,’ she said, she winked at him, then climbed up onto the chair, lay down and stretched, pushing her breasts out, knowing that his eyes were as good as glued to her stiff nipples. ‘Do your worst,’ she whispered.
Donald Carter had proposed marriage two weeks before. She said yes in principle to the offer. After going down on him, she suggested that he might want to demonstrate his seriousness by making her independently wealthy. Only then she said could she prove to him that she wasn’t after his money. Crazy logic, but perhaps the sight of his semen hanging off her eyelashes and dribbling down her chin distracted him from thinking clearly. ‘Just think, then you can take me anytime, anyplace, in any hole, for the rest of you life,’ she said.
He understood perfectly. For people like Donald Carter it was a tempting offer. He as fifty-six years old and had had two lovers in his lifetime. Lucinda was the second. Before her was a thirty-year period of enforced celibacy. In the beginning he had kept himself sane through masturbation, but as the years rolled past, the distraction became a miserable and unbreakable habit. The day Lucinda walked into his life was like the Second Coming. She was a dream come true.
Lucinda relaxed back on the chair, clasped her hands around her trim belly and crossed her feet while she waited for him to begin work on her. ‘Concealed within this dress is the juiciest strawberry cunt in the world,’ she whispered.
‘I know.’ His nose twitched as if he could already smell her sex.
Reading the cue, Lucinda uncrossed her feet and began to slowly bend one leg, her stiletto scraping along the edge of the chair. He watched her knee rise up before his eyes, and she watched him, knowing that even now his cock was throbbing and leaking. When her leg was fully bent, she let it splay out to the side. With quickening breath, he watched as her knee began to descend sideways. Slowly, like the unveiling of a national treasure, the skirt of her dress began to slip aside. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow like a translucent rash. His fingers fumbled in the instrument tray. She heard the metallic tinkle of a spiked probe landing on the floor when her stocking top appeared. Transfixed by the dark and the light, the dentist found himself unable to move, unable to think, barely able to breathe. She stroked her thigh with creamy fingers, played with the suspender, then continued upwards until she paused with her hand resting on her springy mound of pubic hair. ‘This could be yours forever,’ she whispered.
‘Mr Carter!’ He looked up as if woken from a dream.
The Indian nurse stood before him. Lucinda struggled up onto her elbows, clearly peeved at the interruption.
‘It’s the rules,’ the nurse announced, striding into the surgery. ‘A nurse must be in attendance at all times.’ She pushed Lucinda roughly back onto the chair.
Lucinda tipped her head backward to look at her lover. ‘It’s true,’ he shrugged.
‘Are you here for a check up?’ the nurse asked.
‘No, I’m here for a pint of milk and newspaper, of course I’m here for a check up!’
The nurse ignored her and turned to the dentist. ‘Shall we begin?’ she said, fixing him with a stern gaze. He looked into her eyes and saw a demon looking back at him.
‘I’m ready nurse,’ he replied meekly.
Lucinda closed her legs and opened her mouth. The nurse handed a new probe to the dentist and he set to work digging around her mouth, picking at her gums, drawing threads of blood, making her wince and tense. ‘You have a cavity there Lucinda,’ he said after a minute. ‘I’m going to have to fill it.’
Working under the nurse’s unwavering gaze, he began to fix a handful of metal clamps onto the teeth of her upper and lower jaws to keep her mouth locked open. He could tell she was in some discomfort each time he looked into her eyes, but he kept turning the knurled clamp screws, forcing her mouth wider and wider open. When speech was impossible, and she feared her mouth was going to split, she suddenly found herself unable to move, the nurse having attached a set of thick steel wires to her wrists and ankles while she was distracted. The steel loops bit into her fair skin ferociously. Lucinda could just make out that the wires were connected to four pulleys hanging over a series of wall hooks. Suddenly deciding that the game was not for her, she tried to protest, but all that came out was an unintelligible grunt.
‘I think we’re ready,’ the nurse said.
Lucinda glanced up at her lover and was horrified to see that his eyes were host to a cold glitter she had not seen before.
The dentist held her head firmly between his hands while the nurse fixed her skull in place with a metal head-clamp. Then she moved around to the side of Lucinda and ripped her dress open, exposing her breasts. Lucinda winced when the nurse bent forward and flicked her tongue over her nipples, stiffening them into sturdy strawberry stalks.
‘Two more clamps please nurse,’ the dentist said.
The clamps bit into Lucinda’s swollen nipples like bulldogs. A low moan escaped from Lucinda’s gaping mouth. She began to feel faint and dreamy. The next thing her eyes focussed on were two steel wires leading from each nipple clamp to a pulley mechanism fixed to the ceiling.
‘You may feel a little sting,’ the dentist said quietly.
The pulleys rotated and the slack suddenly vanished from the wires. Lucinda’s nipples began to stretch under the strain, then when they could neither swell, nor extend anymore, she watched her breasts elongate and lift away from her torso. Writhing in pain, her head swimming, she knew that for the first time in her life she was out of her depth. Something had happened, what, she did not know.
The dentist nodded at his nurse as if for permission as he increased the tension on the nipple wires a little further. Lucinda groaned and grunted and tried to twist her way out of trouble, terrified that her nipples would rip out of her breasts. She could see in her mind’s eye the dentist and his evil assistant laughing insanely while the two bloody stalks danced in the air in front of her like some obscene puppet show.
‘She likes it!’ the nurse said, her voice loaded with mock humour, ‘See how she smiles!’
‘Feels like toothache don’t it?’ the dentist said.
Lucinda suddenly felt the wires attached to her ankles tighten. ‘Why break the habit of a lifetime?’ the nurse cooed sarcastically as she cranked Lucinda’s legs apart.
