The Hangover
- 2 years ago
- 18
- 0
Allison felt terrible. Her headache was partly the consequence of the several large glasses of scotch she had downed after Lionel had left but mostly it was because of what had happened while he was in the flat and in particular how she felt about her own behaviour.
She’d called the office and told them that she wasn’t feeling well. That was true, but the trouble was she didn’t know, even when she felt better, how she was ever going to be able to look Lionel in the face, ever again.
It was as she was contemplating a glass of water and two headache pills that her mobile rang. She recognised the voice at once as June Calloway.
“I thought you might want to talk.”
“Why would you think that?”
June ignore Allison’s abrupt response. “Lionel was worried about you but he thought you might not want him to call.”
“He’s right there.”
“He thought it didn’t go well, that he’d upset you.”
“No. No, it wasn’t that.”
“Well, sometimes it just doesn’t work out. You said you weren’t sure if it was for you. I was concerned about you, too. Just let me know if you want me to say anything to Lionel.”
Something about June’s tone made Allison want to confide in her. “No, it wasn’t that either. Quite the opposite. It wasn’t what I expected. I was so turned on. Not out of control exactly but nearly. I scared myself, I guess. And afterwards – well, I just felt awful.”
“It sound like you did exactly the right thing, then. Sometimes I think that tops need a safe word too.”
“I didn’t mean to upset Lionel, it really wasn’t his fault. It was just that I was rougher than I ever thought I could be. And, well,...”
“And...”
“Well, I made use of him. Grabbed him and just, well, used his face. He must have been shocked.”
“Possibly. But I suspect that he was as excited by it as you were at the time. Probably more.”
“And now I don’t know what to do. I promised you I would treat Lionel fairly but if I feel like that over something so simple, well, I don’t know if I can carry on, or even if I should. And, I suppose, I surprised myself. I could never have thought that I would get pleasure out of something like that, of having him helpless and sobbing from being punished by me. Even if he did deserve it, should I have enjoyed it?”
“I’m not sure if it’s a question of ‘should’ or not,” June replied. “I don’t think it’s ever very helpful to look for the rights and wrongs of how we feel about this. Better to say that’s how things are and then deal with that. I can only speak for myself. I’m a professional. For me this is work but sometimes it’s a pleasure too. Sometimes it’s the joy of freeing up someone’s inner fears and desires – it’s good to see someone becoming everything they want to be. Sometimes too, I must confess, there are times when I quite enjoy the fact that someone is suffering at my hands, because sometimes, believe me, they deserve it. That’s when you have to be most careful of all, though.”
Allison Terry was on her lunch break but the precious hour before she had to be back at her desk was slipping away. She looked up and waved as Cerys came in to the coffee shop. Cerys looked as disorganised as ever, nodding an acknowledgement to Allison as she tried to juggle her large shoulder bag while she ordered a cappuccino. Fumbling in the bag in search of her purse as she reached the end of the counter, she almost knocked a pile of pastries to the floor while trying to find the money to...
Allison was puzzled and a little concerned by the peculiarly precise way that Cerys had insisted that she turn up exactly at seven o’clock and ring twice on the doorbell. Whatever the cause, though, she wanted to find out what on earth was going on with her friend. When she got to the apartment, Cerys was her usual pleasant, relaxed and hospitable self. Allison was welcomed in, enthusiastically. “You had me worried at lunchtime,” Allison said. “I thought you’d been at the gin for...
Allison was thinking. She had spent a couple of hours after work reading the papers that Cerys had given her and searching on the Internet. It seemed like there was an infinite range of things that might be included in a contract like the one Cerys was looking for. It all depended on what sort of dominant / submissive relationship they had going, what sort of kinks they enjoyed and what Cerys wanted out of it. Actually, Allison thought, I guess it depends what he wants out of it too. To...
It was the lunchtime on the following day when Allison picked up a call on her mobile. It was Cerys. “Hi-yer,” Cerrie’s greeting was cheery. Allison, trying to carry her coffee and sandwich while looking for a table and clutching the phone between her ear and her shoulder, wasn’t quite as chipper. “Hang on, Cerrie, I’m juggling lunch here.” Eventually she managed to get sat down and turned her attention back to the phone. “Sorry ‘bout that. It’s a pain trying to find a seat in here.” “You...
Two days later, on the Thursday, just before she was going to leave work, when Allison was interrupted by a cough and a diffident voice. “I wonder if I could have a word, Miss Terry?” Lionel Fairbrother looked rather uncomfortable as he beckoned Allison towards his office. As one of the senior partners Lionel was rather held in awe by the secretarial staff. He specialised in inheritance and probate work. Allison had worked on a few things for him but nothing recently. She’d always found him...
On Friday, Allison spent most of the day avoiding Lionel, thinking that he would interpret her evasion as disdainful disinterest for at least a while. That, she hoped – in between trying to clear her desk of the various tasks she needed to finish before the weekend - would give her a chance to think about his proposal. The disturbing thing, Allison thought, was that she hadn’t dismissed the idea out of hand and even now was still wondering what she should do about it. Friday night at least...
Lionel Fairbrother threw the book he was reading to one side. He couldn’t concentrate. A pile of papers – documents that he needed to review for a case at work - sat on the couch beside him, accusingly, waiting for his attention. Lionel pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and stared across at his hi-fi. He blinked. The music had stopped but he wasn’t even sure how long ago. A half drunk cup of coffee stood on a low table in front of the couch. Lionel could see it was cold just...
After leaving Cerys and the helpless Gordon, Allison headed home. Although it was early she felt tired; emotionally drained, she supposed, as a result of the strange experiences of that evening. She went to bed. The weather was sultry. A bout of late autumn sunshine following on from a week’s rain meant the city felt damp. In Allison’s bedroom, with windows closed it was stuffy but she knew that leaving them open would mean a chilly early morning. Allison lay, unable to settle, pulling her...
Allison had spent quite a while thinking about the call that she was about to make. In the end she decided there was no alternative but to plunge in and see what happened. “Could I speak to Ms Calloway, please.” “Just a moment. Who shall I say is calling?” “My name is Allison Terry. Ms Calloway should be expecting my call.” “Of course. Please hold.” The voice at the other end of the telephone was softly spoken. Allison couldn’t help wondering if it came from one of Ms Calloway’s clients,...
After her meeting with June on the South Bank, Allison spent the next day on tenterhooks getting progressively more anxious as the day wore on. She noticed as Lionel left his office at about five. He seemed to be in the same state of nervous anticipation that she was. Allison had suffered the same “What do you wear... ?” conundrum as she had in the office earlier in the week. She’s was beginning to think the default dominatrix outfit of black leather, corset and boots at least had the...
Lionel Fairbrother was standing in the doorway of the room, looking uncertainly from June to Allison and back again. Allison, anonymous behind her mask and wig was sitting in an armchair watching him. June was standing beside her. “I think you know what’s expected,” June said quietly. “Please don’t be concerned by my guest.” “No, of course, no Mistress,” Lionel’s stuttered response betrayed the way in which his expectations of the evening session had already been disturbed. Allison watched...
“There,” Allison said, putting the folder containing what she thought would be the final version of Gordon’s slave contract down on the table between her and Cerys. “I hope it’s what you were looking for.” “I’m sure it will be,” Cerys responded. “Thank you so much. It’s really going to get Gordon excited. You saw how he reacted when we mentioned about it last week.” Allison nodded. Gordon’s reaction had been one of the reasons why she’d even thought about Lionel’s proposal. Cery’s picked...
She could not, Allison decided, put it off any longer. She had decided that she would like things to progress. That meant one thing. A discussion with Lionel was needed. He, it seemed to Allison, had been very patient but now it was time to settle things between them. She stood in the corridor outside his office gathering her thoughts. Portraits of earlier partners in the firm peered down from the walls. Serious looking men in serious suits seemed to gaze down at Allison as if taking a dim...
The apartment was looking presentable, Allison thought. It was five to eight. He was almost due. She looked at the bottles standing on the sideboard. For a moment she thought a drink would be a good idea. She dismissed the thought, though. The conversation with Lionel was going to need all her attention. She’d decided that a rather formal, business-like look was probably the best for their initial meeting so she’d put on an outfit that she might well have worn to the office. The white...
“So, what did you think of the contract?” Allison and Cerys were sitting in the coffee shop where Cerys had first raised the idea of Allison drafting a contract for her and Gordon. Cerys pulled the document from her bag. “It’s exactly what I wanted. I’m so grateful. It’s really good.” “What does Gordon think of it?” Cerys laughed. “He felt a little uncertain, I think, when I first showed it to him. I guess the only thing worse than not having your fantasies fulfilled is having them...
Allison had told Lionel he could visit her again. From her point of view, she still felt that there were things to explore and he had seemed as keen as ever when she had rasied the idea. They had agreed a time but now Allison was worried. Lionel was over two hours late for their appointment and she had heard nothing from him. She knew he had left the office before her and there wasn’t - as far as she knew - any reason why he should have arrived at her flat yet. She wondered if he had had...
“You’ve got to get off here, sir. Service terminates here.” The words of the Underground guard snapped Lionel out of his confused state. “What? I’m sorry...” he began. “High Barnet, mate. We don’t go no further.” “No. No, of course.” He looked around. The carriage was empty. He got up slowly and a little stiffly, still very conscious of pummelling that his buttocks had received from Allison. “Are you all right, mate?” Lionel nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course.” He looked around as he went to...
Allison looked up in response to the buzz from the front door of her flat. She had been worrying about the evening. She wanted to continue with her relationship with Lionel and she wanted to continue to explore her interests in dominance. She was also determined to stay in control her own reactions. It was going to be a difficult balancing act, she knew, combining her amusement with Lionel’s. She had thought hard about the evening, remembering June Calloway’s advice to plan things out. She...
The next day, Allison got into the office earlier than she expected. She was a bit bleary-eyed from a restless night but that was nothing that a good cup of coffee wouldn’t cure, she thought. She was standing in the queue for the coffee machine. There were a couple of other girls in front of her chatting away about the last evening’s television and similar things. “How was your dinner party,” one said. “Ah,” the other responded, “did you hear that news item that said dinner parties would be...
In the hall of her house in Clerkenwell, June Calloway was welcoming Allison. “We can talk upstairs if you like,” said June. “I have some visitors but they won’t object.” Allison was pretty certain that she knew what June meant by “visitors” but, following her experiences over the last few weeks, she didn’t feel the need to insist on having their conversation with June in the hall. June led the way up from the hallway and into her lounge. A few of the tools of her trade – a pair of long...
“You are invited,” the embossed, gold-edged card decreed in large black letters, “to a celebration of kink. The new Kink Collection of leatherwear, rubberwear, and restraints will be shown alongside party, play and dance at the Viaduct Club.” Allison turned the card over. It had the date and time and the words, “Dress Code: Tops – Leather / Rubber / Uniform / Fetish / Vintage. Bottoms – whatever the Top decrees.” Allison smiled. That was only as it ought to be, of course. Clipped to the...
“I’ve finished in the kitchen, Mistress.” Lionel stood head bowed in the door to the living room. It was becoming a regular event in Allison’s week. Each Wednesday, Lionel would appear and, accept her directions to clean up around the flat before being allowed some time worshipping at Allison’s feet. Allison found the routine curiously reassuring but she worried that Lionel was getting to take it for granted and also that she wasn’t getting much out of it other than a clean kitchen, damp...
The next morning when Allison awoke, rested after her night’s sleep, she felt no qualms about the night before. Somehow she felt quite comfortable with how things had turned out and saw no reason to break the spell that Lionel was obviously under. She dismissed him with barely a word, waving him away before she had even left the bed, even refusing his offer to put away the clothes she had discarded the night before. She had been amused when she woke to look down and see the sleeping Lionel,...
Three days later and with over a week to go before the Kink Collection party, Allison was in her usual lunchtime coffee shop. She turned away from the counter, clutching the sandwich and Americano she had chosen for lunch. She was hoping for a short time to relax after a hectic morning in the office. Lionel hadn’t been around – he’d had to go out to a potential new client for a meeting – but that had at least allowed Allison to concentrate on her work. It was hard to know which of the two...
“Well, you’d better get off to your playroom. I think you know what I am expecting, don’t you?” Allison and Gordon were standing in the hallway of his house. Allison’s stern demeanour immediately struck the right chord with Gordon. “Yes, Mistress,” he volunteered. “That is, if you wish for me to call you that.” He looked at her furtively. Allison had chosen to wear the corset that Gordon’s card had paid for together with the blouse and skirt she had been wearing at the time she had been at...
It was the evening of the Kink Collection party. Cerys was bleary eyed and coughing. Her nose was streaming from a particularly unpleasant cold. “It’s no good,” she said, “I’m in no condition to go to this thing tonight. “You sound awful,” Allison responded, sympathetically. She had come to meet up with her friend on the way to the Kink Collection event but Cerys was obviously not well. “I quite understand.” “I think the only way I could do it would be wearing a gas mask with a block of...
I really don’t understand how I’m not freaked out by this, Allison said to herself as she made her way through the packed bar of the Viaduct Club. Only a few weeks earlier her understanding of the BDSM world had been limited, to say the least. Yet, now here she was with three slaves in tow, surrounded by fetish enthusiasts of every flavour, and enjoying every minute of it. She found herself taking in appreciative looks from the others in the room. Her outfit was attracting attention from...
I really don’t understand how I’m not freaked out by this, Allison said to herself as she made her way through the packed bar of the Viaduct Club. Only a few weeks earlier her understanding of the BDSM world had been limited, to say the least. Yet, now here she was with three slaves in tow, surrounded by fetish enthusiasts of every flavour, and enjoying every minute of it. She found herself taking in appreciative looks from the others in the room. Her outfit was attracting attention from...
It was a few days after the show at the Viaduct Club. Allison looked up from her coffee just as a taxi stopped outside the shop. It was quiet. The coffee shop was almost deserted. Cerys emerged from the taxi festooned with shopping bags, each of which carried the name of some designer brand or other. Amongst them, Allison noticed, were two carrying the logo of ‘Style with Restraint’. Half falling through the door of the coffee shop she collapsed into an armchair. “Who’d have thought spending...
Allison and Lionel were together in Allison’s flat. She was sitting on the couch. He stood in the middle of the room facing her. He looked, she thought, more than a little uncomfortable. That alone gave her pleasure in a way she found surpising. “So,” she said, “have you had the chance to read it.” She nodded towards the papers that sat on the table on the far side of the room. She wasn’t certain what she expected or hoped the outcome of the conversation would be. “Yes.” “And what did you...
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