P I Honeytrap (7 page)

Don moved around the club again, scanning the room in the dim light in search of further fascinations. Hayley followed him.

Chapter Five

Hayley kept a discreet distance as Don roamed. Her attention diverted momentarily. A naked woman lay on her belly, hanging over a couch, attended by two equally naked males. One reclined beneath her on the floor, nipping, tugging, and suckling at her dangling breasts. She rewarded his services by stimulating his erect penis with a careless hand. The second man angled his body beneath hers on the couch, penetrating her relentlessly, caressing her buttocks as he thrust upwards.

Don walked past. Two guys clearly wasn’t his thing. Hayley felt aroused enough to like the idea of a little double stimulation. She imagined the climax to their artistic endeavours would be spectacular. Lucky lady.

She didn’t want Don’s attentions to fall on any other lone submissive. If he was the dominant type, he would be looking to hook up with a more docile creature than the woman being serviced back there. She had better get the idea of pushing him to satisfy her needs with hot sex out of her horny little head.

Don stopped walking beside another little tableau that was obviously more to his liking.

A naked woman hung by the wrists, tied to a wooden pole which was suspended above the floor. She supported her weight on tiptoe, standing on two upturned concrete blocks, each angled at the top. Each time the suspension swivelled she wobbled precariously, always in danger of falling off and being left dangling. The risk occurred each time she was thrashed lightly with a thin, whippy bamboo cane. One end had been sliced into a number of thinner, whippier canes which, Hayley thought, looked deadlier.

Her master used opposite ends of the cane, to vary the intensity of his strikes, and alternately chastised and rewarded her using his cane followed by a vibrator. He delivered her punishment with restraint and, by the look on her face, it was hard to tell where pain ended and ecstasy began. If Hayley felt intrigued by the notion, Don appeared totally entranced.

Hayley wondered about the night ahead of her. A frisson of excitement built in her bones. An echo of memory. She crushed it, deciding that any man trying to hurt her that way, for real, would get his arse kicked.

Hayley tuned her ears to the noises around her. Faint music pervaded the background, overwritten by the intermittent buzzing of distant vibrators at work. Soft groans and moans of pleasure created a dark base note with an occasional trailing, high-pitched wail, somewhere between orgasm and despair, carrying in the far distance over everything. Voices murmured in discreet whispers, laughter rippled, and the distinct beat of hand and whip on naked flesh drummed its own dark rhythm. Put together, it was a very carnal sound which made Hayley’s pulse beat its echoing call.

She wondered briefly what Alice thought of it all. Hayley knew Alice and Marty would be close enough to capture every expression on Don’s face. Would Mrs Friar believe what the camera told her?

Hayley refocused on Don and the tableau. The master had removed one of the blocks on which the woman balanced. She pivoted on a couple of angled toes of one foot like a macabre ballerina as the suspension above her head twisted and turned with her attempts to maintain her balance. The master tied a string around her unsupported big toe and lifted her leg high up behind her, bent at the knee. He tied the string to the pole suspended above her head. It seemed to move the woman’s focus away from the newly applied vibrator for a moment, especially when the master whipped the sole of her foot lightly a couple of times with his shredded cane.

Hayley thought of a high-wire suspension dancer. One slip and she would hang above the ground by her wrists. Her master lightly tapped her on the sole of her raised foot again, causing a tense wail to erupt from her throat. Hayley believed the woman could no longer distinguish between pleasure and pain. Yet she must focus her mind on her balance, lest she fall. Sensory overload. One glance at Don showed he admired her tormentor’s ingenuity and his submissive’s patient suffering.

Hayley once more anticipated impending events. The pit of her stomach felt heavy. Her pussy wet, throbbing.

Each time the master compensated for the girl’s pain with a few seconds of pleasure, it became harder for her to remember to balance. The girl appeared to be in a near-orgasmic state, yet untouched by human hand. As her eyes fixated on the remote device, Hayley realised that the young woman had a wireless vibrator already inserted inside her, to which her master held the controls.

His torment of his submissive was absolute as she fought to maintain concentration on her balance without giving in to the mind-numbing, leg-weakening effects of the stimulation orchestrated deep inside her pussy. Her eyes were half closed and unfocused. As her hips jerked forward, her straight leg threatened to buckle at the knee, leaving her swinging painfully.

She survived another electric riptide with her master’s hand firmly on the button, releasing a long-held breath as he jerked the machine off, just before she started to come. Her reward was a swift yet stinging caning to her nipples, pussy, and buttocks. Hayley listened to the girl’s orgasmic squeals, appreciating the close affinity between torment and delight. It was a demonstration of a true aficionado at work. The master not only controlled the thrill he gave his submissive but that of his voyeuristic audience too. One glance at Don’s eyes and harsh slash of a mouth and the wild throbbing in her own pussy made her believe it.

Hayley was relieved to see the woman smile as her master untied her and held her close as she came down, in every sense of the word. This was a whole new world of intense, consensual sex that Hayley had only imagined. Her thoughts and feelings raged in confusion.

Hayley caught Don looking in her direction and remembered she was working. She decided a submissive wouldn’t appear so bold, so dropped her eyes, meekly staring at the floor, allowing herself a few encouraging glances at her target.

He ran an appraising eye over her body. Strangely, by now, it made her feel hot under the collar. Literally. She felt up at the collar she was wearing. It was choking her. All very funny. She would amuse the gang with her account later.

If she wasn’t her target’s type she had to work extra hard to get herself noticed. Plenty of other men were noticing her. If they came in for the kill, it would be game over and she would have to call it a night and return another time. Hayley thought she would like to get this one over and done with. Her frayed nerves were shot to pieces with sexual tension. She was used to getting sex when she wanted it. Used to calling the shots. Giving up control would be like reliving the past and she couldn’t allow that to happen again.

It was time for decisive action. Hayley deliberately knocked the table behind her as she stepped backwards. A couple were sitting close together and their drinks spilled everywhere. Making a lot of noise about it, she sank to her knees before the obviously dominant male, ignoring his submissive partner.

As she wiped the liquid from his shoes, she constantly apologised, like a good little slave. She even slipped in an almost inaudible “master” as she addressed him, eyes to the floor at his feet. His female partner was all but hissing like a spiteful cat at her master’s obvious interest in Hayley, especially down the front of her low-cut corset-tied peasant blouse. Not quite so submissive then, Hayley thought, struggling not to laugh.

‘I should be punished for being so clumsy.’

A quick sideways glance revealed it had worked as she intended. Don’s gaze was fixed on her down on her knees and he had excitement written all over his face. She had presented herself on a plate, and if he didn’t take the hint after this, she would give up.

She held her position by the couple although she felt like knocking the silly pair’s heads together. Miss Hissy was completely spoiling the effects of playing submissive as her partner was forced to soothe her ruffled feathers, explaining he wasn’t interested.

Hayley remained docile, fallen like manna from heaven, at his feet. Like hell he wasn’t interested. She knew which of those two was really the dominant one and had to smother another smile. A bit like dear old Don and her, if he did but know it.

Suddenly, she saw Don’s booted feet beside her.

‘I will deal with this,’ Don announced, to the relief of both women. He placed his hand under her elbow and pulled her gently to her feet. ‘What do you think you are doing, ruining the gentleman’s evening?’

Hayley felt like pointing out that she wasn’t the woman doing that, but the cat glared at her again.

She hoped she was acting her role correctly, not certain of the rules of this fantasy submissive situation. A picture of Reuben flashed into her mind and she realised with a start that, once again, she had allowed her two separate worlds to collide.

Marty and Alice would be nearby in case things got ugly inside and she wondered which of them was playing submissive, as if she couldn’t guess. Alice was probably dragging Marty around the floor by his collar at this very moment. The whole thing seemed so ludicrous to Hayley that she felt strange. Everything about this whole place made her slightly crazy and rampantly sexy.

She lowered her voice, kept her eyes downcast. ‘I’m sorry, sir. It was an accident.’

Don appeared to like this game. ‘Do you think you can avoid being punished by claiming such a thing?

‘No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.’ She hung her head in mock shame, and so Don couldn’t see the grin that was starting to form despite her best efforts to hide it. ‘Do you want me to lick his shoes clean, sir?’ She moved slightly, as if she was about to turn from Don and return her attention to the other man.

She knew how to read her target. It was enough to clinch the deal. Don stopped her by grasping her wrist. ‘That would be far too lenient. You have been very bad and I must chastise you myself.’

Oh yes. Hayley could already picture Paolo guffawing in the van. He picked up everything that was said on a discreet microphone. Well, she liked to keep the troops entertained on a long tour of duty.

‘No indeed. You will kneel at my feet while I have a drink. Then I will take you away and punish you.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Game on.

Don drank quickly. Hayley supposed that although he wanted to assert his dominance over his new little slave, he was too busy anticipating the delights of getting her alone to make her wait too long. He stroked her long, dark hair as he swallowed his liquor, like she was a pet spaniel. The thought of snapping at his fingers wafted through her mind.

‘What is your name, girl?’

‘Matty, sir.’ They both knew that one wasn’t true. But this whole event was about make-believe.

‘Well, Matty. You will call me master and I will teach you to be an obedient and humble servant.’

‘Thank you, master.’

Don drew something out of his pocket. Hayley’s eyes widened as she saw it was a collar and leash. Unclipping the collar, he returned it to his pocket before clipping the leash to her own, thoughtfully provided, collar.

‘Follow me close at heel.’

Hayley very nearly snarled. There were bits of this fantasy that weren’t nearly so attractive to her. But it went with the territory. She could have cheerfully yanked the leash from Don’s fingers and strangled him with it. She caught a glimpse of Marty moving forward, but gave him a pre-arranged signal which told him to stand down. She was fine. Except, she decided, this little humiliation was going to cost the Friars a substantial additional fee.

Don led her to his vehicle and helped her into the passenger seat. He hooked her leash to the headrest loosely, fixed her restraint belt, and started up the engine. Hayley clutched her shoulder bag to her lap. Whatever happened, she was hanging on to this. Don had no fixed playtime abode that they were aware of, so they were relying on the hidden camera and microphone once they got inside. It would limit the quality of the results gained but was sometimes the best they could do.

Don drove out of town and stopped at a modern motel on the outskirts. He left her in the car and went to pay for a room before returning and leading her inside.

No sooner were they through the bedroom door when a knock came. Don looked alarmed for a moment until a voice called out. It was Paolo’s.

‘Fresh towels, sir. Courtesy of Happy Dreams Motel.’

Don opened the door happily. Paolo swept in, wearing a hastily donned porter’s jacket that he carried in the van. He carried a bale of new towels, for which Donny here would be paying, if he did but know it.

‘Allow me to freshen up your bathroom, sir.’ Paolo deposited the towels on the side of the bath behind the closed bathroom door and Hayley knew he would be withdrawing equipment from his deep inside pocket. His technical expertise would soon see a microphone and camera installed in the bathroom.

When he came out, Paolo turned back the sheets.

‘Oh master, I need to use the bathroom. May I?’ Hayley distracted a rather embarrassed Don, who clearly didn’t want anyone else participating in his little game, while Paolo rapidly placed more micro-equipment in the bedroom as a back-up to that concealed in Hayley’s bag.

Paolo winked at her discreetly as he left, grinning. She would remember to give the boy a hefty bonus, and congratulated herself on having a really smart team.

‘You may close the curtains, Matty.’ Don removed his jacket and opened the bag he had brought from the boot of his car. ‘Come and stand before me, girl.’

Hayley obeyed. He seemed to like it when she cast her eyes down as if he was indeed too masterful for her to confront.

Don was well groomed and very old-school in outlook. He wasn’t exactly having affairs. He was playing out a fantasy that he would not dare to ask his wife to indulge in at home. Hayley thought it strange that Mrs Friar would almost prefer to think Don was with other women, than being – now, how did Mrs Friar refer to it – deviant? But the evidence gathered would speak for itself. What Mrs Friar did about it after that was no concern of hers.

Don ran his hands over Hayley’s hips up to her belted waist. ‘I am happy to see you dressing as a young woman should. Far too many women dress like a man or display everything they possess, leaving little to the imagination. I would teach them a thing or two.’