All sorts came to see her.
Men. Women. Straight, gay, and every level of bi. The most confident to the most timid. Some came with detailed ideas of how they wanted their fantasy acted out, others asked her to surprise them. She’d had high-up executives seek her out, secretaries, chefs, police officers, athletes – even a clown.
Not that any of these little differences mattered to her. When it came down to it, they were all here for the same thing.
When she’d first got into this business, Rachel had expected there to be a type, a combination of character traits which would make her clients distinct – identifiable in a crowd even, with experience. But if ten years in this job had taught her one thing, it was that her customers came in all shapes and sizes, from all walks of life.
Even with this knowledge in stow – even though she’d known this other woman was coming – Rachel couldn’t quite believe her eyes when, out of the window, she caught the siren in red loitering at the end of her driveway.
Over fifteen years had passed since Rachel had last seen her, yet she hadn’t changed one little bit. Still, the short, choppy blonde haircut. The honey-tanned complexion. Still the bold style; dress flaming crimson, plunging like liquid rubies into her ample cleavage. For a brief moment, Rachel let her mind linger on the shade of red, imagining how soon, once she’d had her way, it would ’t just be the woman’s dress which burnt that colour ... She felt a slight throb deep within her in anticipation.
There was one notable difference in Claudia though. In all the years she’d known her, Rachel could not recall a single occasion where she had seen the other girl looking nervous.
She still couldn’t believe their paths had crossed again.
When her husband, Tom, had first told her that Claudia had visited his solicitor’s firm seeking advice about divorce, and had suggested he and her meeting up at Harvey’s – the most exclusive wine bar in town – Rachel had been fuming.
“She doesn’t even want a divorce – I can tell,” Tom had explained, filling up Rachel’s glass of red wine, then his own, as he broke the news.
She’d frowned, puzzled. “How so?” He’d snorted. “Well, she’s got her feet nicely under the table with that Lord of the Manor, hasn’t she?” A glug of claret. “Not that I can see how that pip-squeak she’s shagging gets to be called a Lord. He’s barely stopped riding his bike with stabilisers, probably still has wet dreams about his schoolteachers ...” The wine had got to him – he was flushed, careless of his words. “I mean I always thought she was into men – real men, I mean. At least that’s the impression she always gave me when we were ...” He gulped loudly. Realisation too late that he’d gone too far.
“I’m sorry, Rach. I didn’t mean ...” She raised a hand to silence him. “Upstairs.” “But I ...” “Upstairs now, or I make it 20, instead of ten.” His blue eyes widened. “Sorry, Miss. I’m going now, Miss.
Straightaway.” Five minutes later, she’d followed her husband up the staircase. She loved him, she really did, but sometimes, he forgot the rules, needed reminding.
As the well known procedure dictated, Tom was waiting beside the single Chesterfield chair in their bedroom, stripped of all his clothes. Moonlight had pooled through the window, turning his skin to ivory, and darkening to black the usually brown hair on his chest, which trailed down his tight stomach to his groin.
She smiled when she saw his cock involuntarily twitch in the moonbeams, as she stepped into the room.
“You know why you are here?” Eyes glued to the floorboards, he nodded.
“You’ve been a bad boy?” Another nod.
“And bad boys must be taught the error of their ways, if they’re ever to become good boys.” “Yes, Miss. Please help me become a good boy.” Walking towards him, she stopped momentarily at her dressing table to pick up her most treasured possession – and the key item of her trade, her passion. She’d bought the Venetian mask on her and Tom’s honeymoon, in one of the tangle of backstreets which threaded as disordered as spun sugar through the watery city. The mask was midnight blue and speckled with delicate silver stars and she wore it for all of her clients. To them, she was simply Miss. The Mask. A firm hand. A pair of green eyes. She wore plain black clothes, no make-up. She wasn’t there to be eye-candy. That’s why they came. In more ways than one.
“Up here,” she’d barked at Tom, once she’d settled comfortably into the green leather chair.
Knowing the procedure well, he was quickly lying across her lap, the sturdy arms of the chair bearing the majority of his weight.
“The leather’s cold,” Tom joked, but Rachel hadn’t been in the mood for humour. She never was once she’d assumed the role of her alter-ego.
She gave him a sharp rap on one cheek of his pale arse for his insolence.
“Ow! Rach, a little warning ...” Another slap across the other cheek, and then he was quiet.
He knew better than to address her as Rachel once she had put on her mask.
Red finger marks were already surfacing on his moonlit skin. “Now,” she said calmly, “we may begin.” Tradition – and the practice did have a surprisingly long and complex series of traditions – dictated multiples of six as the best figures for administering spankings. But having always been one who liked rounded numbers, Rachel had made a conscious decision to do away with convention and opt for multiples of ten. Besides, her clients were hardly going to complain. Show her one person who didn’t ever want more for their money! “Ten.” Smack. “Nine ... Eight ...Seven ...” Rachel could already feel Tom’s hardness pressing into her thigh.
“No!” she ordered, scratching his shoulder with a fingernail. She upped the vigour of her slaps.
He knew the rules. This was a punishment, not a treat.
They would wait for his erection to wilt, before she continued the countdown. Until then, his bottom was growing increasingly red, strawberry was turning to beetroot.
Thanks to Tom’s cock having a mind of its own, nearly an hour had passed before they were through. Her hand felt as sore as his arse looked.
“Thank you, Miss,” Tom blurted over his shoulder, his face wet with tears. “Thank you for teaching me a lesson.” “You’re welcome, Tom,” she said, removing her mask – the signal that Miss was once again Rachel.
Reaching between his legs, she tickled his balls. This time she did not admonish his rapidly-hardening member; squeezing a hand around its length, she stood up and led him towards the bed. “Take your bloody time with your punishment, won’t you? Never mind that your poor wife here is dying for a fuck ...” Afterwards, as they held each other close, Rachel’s thoughts had wandered back to Claudia.
“That bitch has already destroyed my life once, I won’t let her sweep in and do it again.” Tom immediately knew who she was talking about, but fear had caught alight in his eyes.
“It’s okay,” she’d consoled him. “I promise no more spanking. You’re allowed to talk about her now. Just no in depth details of when you two were an item, okay?” “Deal,” he smiled, relieved. “You know, it might not be all bad, her coming back into our lives.” Under the duvet, Rachel had teasingly squeezed his balls.
“Be careful, Tom. I can easily go back on my promise, you know.” “No, no,” he stammered quickly. “What I mean is this could be an opportunity. For you.” She’d released him, growing curious.
“An opportunity?” Tom had relaxed. “When we were at uni, you always used to say how you wished you’d had a chance to get even with Claudia. To teach her lesson for the misery she put you through at school.” His eyes darted away. “The misery we all put you through ...” “Hey,” she said, more softly. “You know I forgave you a long time ago.” “I know, I know – though I still feel guilty. But I’m lucky, because I get to show you I’ve changed every day; every breakfast I make you, every gift I buy, every time I fuck you.” It was his turn to reach under the duvet. He pushed a finger, slow and deep into her pussy; she was still slippery wet from sex. “How has Claudia shown her remorse, hmm?” Savouring the tickly jolts being triggered by Tom’s finger, Rachel hardly heard him.
“With my help, this could be just the chance to teach her a lesson ...” At first, Rachel wasn’t sure, but she slept on the idea. In her dreams, she relived some of the hell that was her secondary school education. The taunts. The endless laughter. The sick, sick pranks. The other girl’s favourite warning – “Watch your back, Rachel …” By the morning, she needed no more convincing.
“Do it,” she told Tom. “I mean it. Do whatever you have to do to get that woman here.” And now she finally was. Here. At least, at the bottom of the driveway.
What was taking her so long? Rachel took yet another peek through the letterbox. She almost yelped with joy when she saw the hips sashaying towards her. This was it! Standing before the hallway mirror, Rachel slipped on the beautiful Venetian mask, tucking a few strands of black hair behind her ear and making sure it was secure. She didn’t want to give away her identity – at least not just yet.
A flurry of ringing made her jump. Most people pressed a doorbell once. Of course, that wasn’t good enough for Claudia Greenwood. Claudia always had to make a statement. It seemed nothing had changed.
“Ohh,” the woman said, when Rachel eventually opened the door. “You must be Miss?” Rachel nodded, beckoning the visitor in.
Before stepping inside, Claudia threw one final glance over her shoulder, though whether she was looking for back-up or prying eyes, it was hard to tell.
Once the door was closed, they stood silent for a few moments, sizing each other up. Closer, Rachel was delighted to pick out flaws in the woman who in her eyes had always been flawless – fine lines around her sly eyes, the tell-tale signs of children around her midriff.
“Tom said you were ...” she pondered, studying the mask, “different. You know, Tom, yes?” All Rachel and Tom’s photographs had been carefully removed from the walls earlier that morning. Just one of the finishing touches to the long and complex plan to get Claudia here, along with several ‘dates’ with Tom which Rachel had orchestrated and a repositioning of some of their furniture.
“He’s another client of yours, a very close friend of mine ...” she went on, “highly recommended you, so I hope you live up to expectations.” Rachel was almost trembling now. The anticipation that soon Claudia – the very person who had stolen her adolescence was to be begging for mercy was too much ...
Pointing straight ahead to the living room, where she saw to all of her clients, Claudia murmured sarcastically, “Tom said you weren’t one for chatting, but I never – ouch!” A quick slap across her arse encased in the silky red material. Rachel hadn’t been able to resist it. Still, it shut the woman up.
In the living room, Claudia paused to take in the airy space.
It was Rachel’s favourite room in the house. The French doors allowed plenty of light to spill in, though today, they had put up an oriental screen especially. The high ceilings, Victorian fireplace and parquet flooring conspired to make an extremely grand statement.
“Very nice,” the other woman had to admit. “This isn’t your conventional setting for this sort of thing, is it?” Ignoring her, Rachel crossed her fingers behind her back, and praying the other woman didn’t recognise her voice, directed, “Strip.” Claudia was not fazed. With one swift unzipping, her dress was pooling like molten lava onto the wooden floor. She wasn’t wearing any underwear.
Claudia had always been confident of her body – then, she’d never had a reason not to be. No white patches suggested Claudia received only the best of tanning treatments, or had enough time on her hands to bathe in exotic climes in the nude. Her breasts were still pert, pink nipples were hardening in the sudden coolness. The faintest of silvery stretch-marks across her stomach, like a dewy cobweb. Her sex was as smooth as the silk of her dress.
“It’s funny your mask wears that fixed, wide smile – that’s exactly the look I get from everyone when I take off my clothes,” Claudia purred. “Not that any of them know how to take control after that point – especially my boy-wonder of a husband ...” “Shut your mouth, now, you little whore.” She smiled brazenly, clearly enjoying being the mastered rather than the master.
“Turn around and bend down.” “Surely there’s somewhere more comfortable ...” Rachel took a menacing step towards her. “Turn and touch your toes!” Claudia immediately obeyed.
Bending down, she presented two tanned, rounded globes like some bronze-coloured exotic fruit, ripe for spanking. It took all of Rachel’s resolve not to run across the room.
“Look, is this going to take long? Only I’ve yet another dull charity gala tonight, and I’ve a pedicure booked at five…” “I said, shut it,” Rachel barked, hitting home her point with three firm slaps. Claudia’s arse responded each time with a delicious wobble.
“Hmm … I’ve been a very bad girl, Miss. I hope you shan’t punish me too harshly.” Rachel ran a finger as lightly as a butterfly’s wing between the woman’s arse cheeks and over her already glistening slit.
She felt Claudia shudder with pleasure. How long Rachel had dreamed of this, of for once being the one in control – she could almost come herself just thinking about it.
“You shall be punished as harshly as Miss sees fit,” she said, snatching back her finger.
With each set of slaps she recalled the times at school that Claudia had hit her, had humiliated her in the classroom, tripped her over in the canteen.
“Ooh, Miss, you certainly know how to teach a girl a lesson …” the woman smiled over her shoulder.
Gritting her teeth, on her final volley, Rachel recalled the boyfriend – her first ever serious boyfriend – who Claudia had enticed into her bed, just as a challenge. The woman almost toppled over onto the parquet tiles.
It was time to step it up a gear. “On the sofa,” Rachel snapped.
Claudia rose, this time offering no backchat. The crimson marks on her buttocks clearly were having an effect, and by the time the slight woman was sprawled out over her lap, the extent of the effect was all too clear, her juices sopping into Rachel’s trousers. The plan was running perfectly – Claudia was enjoying herself. But not enough.
After another round of ten slaps, Rachel slipped a hand into her bra and pulled out the tiny vibrator which fitted on the end of one finger. On hearing the sudden mosquito-pitch hum, Claudia swung around her head, only to receive a particularly stinging blow to the back of her legs.
“Did I say you could turn around, you little hussy?” “No, Miss. I just wanted to see what was making that noise, Miss.” “You will feel soon enough.” To begin, she ran her pulsing finger over the tops of Claudia’s legs, along the gentle slope of her spine … Rachel made sure she intermitted the vibrator with unexpected slaps, the odd lingering caress, as she knew these would heighten the sensation. She moved onto the woman’s arsehole, drawing lazy circles around the tight skin, probing inside.
Claudia whimpered. Another quick slap to the woman’s glowing rear. Then, teasingly slow, she pushed her finger further, flittering around the woman’s engorged labia, which were now virtually dripping. Over and over she ran the vibrator, but not once did she let herself slip inside.
“Please, Miss!” Claudia pleaded, “I know I’ve been a bad girl, but please, I don’t deserve this. Just finish it! I can’t take any more …” At school, Claudia had been the one who held all the cards.
She might not have been the only bully, but while others, like Tom, had persecuted indiscriminately, Claudia had, without a whisper of provocation, settled on a personal vendetta to destroy Rachel’s life. Claudia had held absolute power to dictate Rachel’s happiness. But now it had turned full circle.
She held the key to taking this woman over the edge, and she was begging. Claudia Greenwood was begging Rachel! Life did not get better than this. Though perhaps it was just about to.
“First you must admit to how very bad a girl you’ve been.
You must apologise to all the people you’ve ever hurt.” There was no resistance. “I’ve been very, very bad! I’m sorry! For everything,” Claudia screamed.
“Good,” Rachel said. As she was slipping the very tip of her finger deeper into the other woman, she pulled away with a small, wet pop, turning off the vibrator.
“Tom, sweetheart, have you got all that?” Before Claudia even had a chance to register what had been said in the midst of her ecstasy, Tom appeared from around the oriental screen, digital camcorder in hand.
“Think I’ve got everything we need,” he smiled. From the bulge in his jeans, it seemed Claudia hadn’t been the only one enjoying the performance.
Claudia scrabbled to her feet. “Tom! What the hell … Is this some kind of sick joke?” “Don’t be mad with your ex,” Rachel said calmly. “He has only done what I’ve told him to.” Anger was turning into fear now, as Claudia ran and scooped up her dress from the floor. She wrapped the scarlet material around her chest, a feeble barrier. “This is sick! Who are you?” “I’m someone you’ve hurt,” Rachel continued. “You probably don’t even remember me, but I remember you. You took away my life from me for a while – told me to watch my back, and you stabbed me there enough times – but this is to let you know,” Rachel slipped off the mask. “This is to let you know that I accept your apology.” “Rachel! But you’re … you and Tom?” She looked as if she was about to self implode. “I’ll have you arrested for this!” Rachel smiled. “I don’t think so. I’ll be hanging on to the tape, just so I’ve a record of your apology, but if ever I was to feel the need, just think of all the places I could send it. I wonder how that Lord of yours and his family would react …” Claudia’s eyes flashed – she knew she was defeated.
“Now, haven’t you a pedicure to get to?” With that the woman – and in all her naked vulnerability, a woman was all she was – darted for the front door.
They said that revenge was a dish best served cold, but that hadn’t been good enough for Rachel. As far as she was concerned, the cruellest torture was putting someone in touching distance of the sublime only to take it away. Just like Claudia had held Rachel back from the merest hint of happiness all through school. Of course video evidence of a ‘Lady’ getting sopping wet from being disciplined couldn’t hurt on the revenge stakes! Claudia looked terrified as she fought with the latch on the front door. Finally succeeding, she glanced back just long enough for Rachel to wiggle the finger which still bore the micro-vibrator, “Bye bye.” It was a final goodbye – this was banishing Claudia – and all the pain – to the past. Where it belonged.
But as the naked woman clinging to a dress as hot a red as her arse was tearing down the driveway, Rachel couldn’t resist calling after her, “Oh and Claudia, you will watch your back, won’t you?”
Erotiske noveller skrevet af Korbin Rush