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Saturday Night and Sunday Morning

The events at Intime

Lauren broke our kiss, her hands on my upper arms and gently pushed me away. Her eyes wandered over me.

‘Perfect. I love the blouse – just right. Well done.’

She pulled me back for a deeper, hungrier kiss and once again her hands roamed over my arse but not once did she seem to want to check the jewel was in place as she had instructed.

‘Now you must come to our table. We have two friends joining us. You will recognise them both. I need your absolute promise that you will never reveal any of our members to others.’

‘I promise, Lauren.’ She looked deep into my eyes as if she were looking to see if I could be trusted, then apparently satisfied, she led me to a table with four chairs, two of which had seats like toilet seats, the others were deep and comfortable. She sat in one of the latter type and indicated the other sort for me. A waitress came to our table and Lauren ordered, predictably, champagne. The waitress was dressed perfectly normally as was the woman behind the bar in ankle length black skirt and white, crisp cotton blouse.

‘When our guests arrive you will stand and remain standing until the Mistress sits, do you understand?’

‘Yes, Lauren.’

I took the opportunity to look around the room and really for the first time noticed the other patrons of Intime. There were three couples and one foursome. The dress code for the dominant women seemed to be uniformly elegant and for the submissives mostly revealing and with a mix of collars and leashes, one blindfold and a couple of latex hoods. From our table we could see the door and I gasped when it opened. The woman who came through first was tall, svelte and dressed in a long, shimmering dark blue gown that had one shoulder strap and the neckline flowed across her breasts. It hugged her figure to the waist and cascaded from there almost to the floor but slashed up one side to reveal a beautifully shaped leg encased in black silk. Her blonde hair was long and loose. She was the unmistakable broadcaster and newsreader, Emma Gifford.

In her hand she held a leash and the woman who followed her was instantly recognisable as one of the senior members of the British Government. I could barely believe my eyes. These two women known to all, and one at least in a position of serious authority in a club like this. No wonder discretion was an absolute rule! The Minister was wearing a short, pale blue nightdress that was transparent to the waist and flounced to her mid thigh. Her black hair was tied severely back and a tail of long black hair hung behind her from under the skirt of her nightdress, almost touching the floor. Lauren stood as, to my amazement, they approached us. I stood too.

Lauren and Emily kissed, a real mouth to mouth kiss that spoke of more than friendship. They sat and Lauren indicated I should too. The Minister arranged her tail so that it fell through the seat and sat too, the leash from her collar still held in Emily’s elegant hand.

Lauren introduced me to Emma and I welcomed her. She smiled.

‘Do you know each other?’ Emma was asking Lauren and patting the Minister’s hand.

‘Of course.’

‘Randy as a goat. Absolute nymphomaniac, quite delicious, aren’t you, Sandra?’ The woman smiled. ‘We met when I first interviewed her in her private office. She sent her minions away and we fucked on her desk. Quite remarkable. And how did you come to find this little gem, darling?’

Lauren explained that she had known Tilly.

‘Oh, a hand-me-down?’

‘Not at all, Emma. Tilly suggested we’d get along and she has proved right so far.’

The waitress arrived with the champagne and four glasses.

Emma said to Sandra, ‘Pour the wine, sweetie. Take your little dress off first, let Miss Lauren get a sight of your slutty body.’

Dutifully Sandra stood, removed her dress and poured the wine, carefully ensuring none was spilt. She was slender with large breasts, not a young woman but in good shape. I noticed Emma taking a chain from her bag and when Sandra sat, once again carefully ensuring her tail went down through the hole in her seat. Emma reached across to her to roll a nipple between her fingers making it swell and point. She attached a clamp to it which made Sandra groan with pain. The clamp was a brutal sort and looked horrid to my eyes. Emma then sat back, holding the other clip at the end of the chain.

‘She loves a little pain and I like to make her wait for the next bit. It concentrates the mind so wonderfully. You going to let me see how Lisa is with her tongue?’

‘Not this evening, Emma, I’m afraid. We’re getting to know each other and I don’t think sharing her around is a good idea so early in our relationship, do you?’

‘Perhaps not, pity though, she has a pretty little mouth. Oh well, I guess Sandra will just have to do for now.'

To my astonishment she lifted the skirt of her dress and pulled Sandra’s clamped breast so that the Minister squealed and dropped to her knees between Emma’s legs and hungrily began to lap at her. Emma smiled at me across the table.

‘See? She loves it. It’s all part of public office don’t you think? Just imagine the next time you see her on television.’

She yanked the chain again and a muffled cry came from between her thighs. Sandra leant back and watched as Emma took a feeldoe from her bag and slowly worked it into herself, the phallic end pointing directly at Sandra’s face.

‘Now, get on it, whore and let me see some movement.’

Sandra scrambled to her feet and straddled her Mistress, lowering herself onto the phallus and groaned as the second clamp was fixed to her nipple. Her head was back and she began to rise and fall while Emma looked around her to grin at Lauren.

Lauren stood and I followed her.

‘Come along, Lisa, we’ll leave our friends to their debauchery and go and have some of our own.’

She blew a kiss at Emma and I followed her from the bar and through another heavy oak door into a room equipped with all the stuff one sees in D/s movies: an A frame, an X cross a bench and a low, padded bar, not to mention a huge bed. She closed the door behind us and locked it.

‘I don’t want us to be disturbed,’ she explained as she turned to face me. I felt a frisson of fear, surrounded as I was by all the paraphernalia associated with pain, the sort of pain that Tilly had loved and inflicted with clinical precision. Lauren came to me and held my arms.

‘Don’t be afraid.’ She kissed my nose. ‘If this is what you want you must tell me.’

The trouble was that I did not know what ‘it’ was to be so I asked.

She held me close, her mouth by my ear.

‘We both know what we need and desire. I would never, never damage someone I love and I am growing to love you more and more. I will hurt you a little, sometimes more than a little but you will cry with pain and exquisite pleasure for me. If you want that say so. If not, then you are free to go, to leave as soon as you want. I won’t try to stop you. You’re quite safe with me.’

She had said ‘love.’ I had seen that look of love in my own eyes when I had gone to the toilet at the Grant.

‘I want it, Lauren.’

She kissed my forehead then slowly unbuttoned my blouse. All the while her eyes held mine as she unfastened each button then spread the blouse open. She bent to kiss and suck each nipple then moved away from me and went to her bag. She produced a chain, rather like Emma’s but the clamps were kinder, rubber tipped. Her eyes on mine again she attached the first one, then the other and lifted the chain to my mouth. I held it there as she stroked my body. Her arms went around me to unbuckle the strap that held my skirt in place and she swept it away, letting it fall to the floor. She moved behind me and stroked my buttocks then tapped the inside of my foot with hers and I spread my legs a little.


Her finger traced up between my legs and over the jewel in my arse. Her mouth was at my ear again.

‘Go to the bathroom and remove that, wash it then bring it back to me.’

I saw a door in the corner and assumed that was the bathroom and obediently went there. I struggled a little to remove the plug, the lubricant had been mostly absorbed and it hurt a little as I withdrew it, then washed it in the sink, carefully. I dried it on a towel and went back to her, holding it in my open hand.

She was naked. The dress was hanging from a hook on the door and she stood beautifully naked, her breasts proud, her hair shining in the soft light of the room. She took the plug from my hand and inspected it. Apparently satisfied she placed it on a side table then led me by the hand to the low, padded beam, pushed me so my tummy was touching it then placed her hand firmly between my shoulders and I bent over it, my feet spreading apart. She left me and went to her bag again and once more I watched as she slowly strapped her dildo on, inserting the inward facing probe first and very, very slowly, her eyes half closed. She took a bottle from her bag and applied lubricant to it. I knew then where it was going. She’d have needed no lubricant in my pussy, that had produced more than enough. Her feet padded across the thick carpet and she stood behind me.

‘Please, Lauren, fuck my arse.’

Her hand gently patted my buttock. ‘Good girl, you learn fast.’

I felt the touch of it then, slippery and hard against me, slithering between my buttocks. Then, her hands lying soft on my arse she touched its tip to me and began to press, insistent but not violent until she overcame my resistance and I opened to her and felt her slowly, so slowly push into me. I nearly came at that moment. It was a moment of surrender like no other can be. She moved behind me, her hips slowly gathering pace but never going too fast or too hard. The lubricant had been generously applied and I could feel it working its magic as she began to drive a little harder into me. I lifted my head but her hand moved to my back and held me down. She whispered encouraging words and I could feel the urgency increasing. Her breath became shorter and her fingers gripped my flesh. I thought she was about to climax but suddenly and to my deep sadness she withdrew from me. She patted my arse.

‘Damn near came then, babe. Lauren’s not quite ready for that.’

She came in front of me and squatted so her face was close to mine and she licked my mouth.

She whispered, ‘There is a cane hanging on the hook behind my dress. Go and get it, bring it to me and bend back over like you are now.’ Her eyes were hungry. ‘Go.’

I stood and walked to the door, moving her dress aside and seeing the bastard thing hanging there. Hesitantly I lifted it from the hook and turned to face her. She watched intently. I thought she was almost holding her breath. If I had surrendered once, then this was another surrender. My will yielding to hers. She didn’t tell me to move or to hurry, she said nothing, just watched. I had said that I would not fetch it the last time she had asked if I would, I’d said that I had not learned to love her yet. Was what I felt love? Was it the need of a woman too long without a lover? I felt she could feel the turmoil in me.

There was no look of satisfaction, nor relief, nor triumph in her eyes as I walked slowly back to her. I held the cane flat in both hands and offered it to her. She did not take it immediately. I was shaking a little and she seemed to be considering.

She extended her hand but didn’t take it from me. I placed it in her hand and then she did smile but it was not a smile of conquest, just of pleasure. She tapped the cane’s tip on the bench and I bent over it. She squatted again and kissed my mouth. She stood and right in front of my eyes unbuckled her strapon and threw it onto the bed. She pressed her down-covered pussy to my face and I extended my tongue and the moisture of her was on me. She stayed like that and I licked her gently, feeling the hard bud beneath its hood and feeling it harden and grow as I loved her. She squatted again.

‘How many do you want?’

I had never asked before. I had only wanted it over no matter how many strokes I had to accept. I had no idea what to say.

‘Tell me,’ she said it gently.


She stood again, touched her pussy to my face then walked to stand beside me. The first was hard, the cane’s flight through the air making that all too familiar swish. I grunted as it stung me.

She came to stand before me again and this time she stroked herself before my eyes, her fingers opening her lips so I could see the shining that was her moisture, the physical manifestation of her arousal.

The second and third came quickly, one after the other. I yelped at the third, it stung more than its predecessors, harder and more unkind. She walked in front of me again and squatted, out of reach and stroked herself again, more vigorously, a finger curling up into her. I knew what it meant. It signified her pleasure and it was my reward for accepting the pain.

She stood slowly and there was a delay that seemed an eternity before the fourth stroke of that wicked bamboo. A further delay in which I felt the thing running over my back.

The fifth was dreadful and I cried out and felt tears run copiously over my cheeks.

And then she was in front of me again and this time she kissed my mouth and licked my tears from my cheeks and, her hand moving at her core, she came. Her orgasm was muted, subtle but it was real. She shuddered, her eyes closed and she came. It was beautiful to watch.

The cane fell from her hand and she gathered herself then stood and lifting my head gently by my hair she guided me to stand. My legs were shaking. She embraced me, her hands caressing my back as she kissed me and licked again at the tears I had shed for her. Lauren’s naked body moved back a little and she took my hands and carefully unbuttoned the cuffs of my open blouse. She eased it off me and stroked the silk over my back as she held one hand and led me to the bed.

We made love then. Long, slow love that led to another climax for her. Mine was rising as she fingered me, her face close, her eyes full of love. As I asked to let it come she smiled and I felt my left nipple burn as she removed the clamp. I groaned and she fingered me harder, faster. I asked again and the second clamp came off with the same fire as the first. Her thumb worked my clitoris. I asked a third time and she simply nodded. I could not contain it. It started somewhere in my belly and tore through me, escaping from my pores and ears and ultimately my mouth in a muffled scream as her mouth covered mine. She swallowed my rapture. I arched, lifted and became rigid in ecstasy.

We lay on the bed, one enfolded in the other.

I whispered, 'You only gave me five.'

'It was what I wanted.'

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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