Oliver – 1
Well… I intended to tell you about Oliver in my last post, but as you know, that one got away from me. That’s a funny thing about writing; sometimes you start off in one direction, then, before you know it, you’ve gone in a completely different one. It’s not a bad thing I guess because obviously I needed to get that out of my head, and, at least now you have an idea of my current work schedule.
Oliver is one of those adrenaline junkie types and he likes to test himself, to test the limits of what he can do and handle emotionally. Amongst other thrills he likes crazy roller coasters, skydiving, motorbike riding and he’s saving up to get himself one of those crazy wing-suits that almost make you into a bird or something. He works for himself and has his own web design business. He’s usually working in his office at home when I visit. His house is large for one person, too large in my opinion, but it’s not me that has to live there. It’s a 3 bed end townhouse in an estate in the city that still has an air of being a ‘new build’ even though it’s about 10 years old. I clean his house once a fortnight on a Tuesday afternoon and I’d been going for about 3 months I think… when one time I discovered something about Oliver that changed the dynamics of our relationship.
I daydream a lot. It’s one of the things I like about cleaning. In fact one of the wonderful things I’ve learned about cleaning is that once you’ve developed effective practices and turned them into habits, it’s like driving- you can get to where you’re going and not even notice the journey. Sometimes, when I’ve finished a job, I look back and I think how did that happen? The place sparkles and I’m not even aware of how I’ve done it. Today was moving in that direction.
When I’m cleaning I operate using a general policy of – if the door is closed it means keep out! Some people like to keep some rooms private, which is understandable. If I had the builders in I don’t think I’d like the thought of them going through my panty drawer… but on the other hand… what if they’re hot? But it’s not just about panties though, it’s about offices and workspaces and the things people just don’t want disturbing in general. I often wonder if the room is a shrine to a dead loved one, like you sometimes see in thriller or horror films.
As I say – I daydream, a lot!
Nevertheless, I always respect my customer’s privacy which has helped with my reputation, and given the high profile nature of one of my customers, I’d say it’s a requirement of my work.
Oliver’s bathroom is tiled in black. It wouldn’t be my personal choice but it is rather magnificent looking. The chrome fittings really stand out against it, especially the shower which I’m cleaning when my mind starts to wander. I am going away at the weekend with Beth. We’ve planned a visit to Harrogate with an overnight stay at the Crown Hotel and while I’m working I’m wondering if we’ll get up to any mischief. We’ve not been to Harrogate for a long time and there are some rather nice wine bars, especially on John Street which is less of a street and more of a paved alley. There’s also the cheap and very cheerful Wetherspoons in the magnificent setting of the old baths. We’ll probably end up in Vipers club, dancing the night away. I’m so lost in my thoughts that before I realise it I’ve finished in the bathroom, grabbed the vacuum cleaner and I’m vacuuming round the house. I start downstairs in the kitchen, move through into the conservatory and still in my reverie I open a door off the conservatory that’s normally closed.
I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
I am dumbstruck.
I had no idea Oliver was this way inclined!
I can’t help myself and I step inside the room to get a closer look.
Oliver has a dungeon.
It’s always struck me as odd that they’re called dungeons given that they’re not underground. Nevertheless, Oliver has a sex dungeon. The first thing to catch my eye is a seated bench with leather shackles that look like they wrap round the body. There’s a dog cage on the floor. What the hell is that for? I hope he’s not in any bestiality shit. Against the far wall there’s a big X shaped cross, again with shackles for hands and feet. I can see an old school desk in the corner and there’s what looks like a tiny prison cell with a barred door. The walls are adorned with whips, canes, chains and all sorts of other BDSM paraphernalia. I’ve heard about these kinds of places, but never in my life have I seen one… and truth be known, I never expected to see one.
‘The kinky bastard!’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Said a voice behind me. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, Carla?’
Fuck! I was so rapt with what I was seeing I hadn’t heard Oliver come in behind me.
Fuck! My heart starts pounding in my chest and I feel my face flushing red.
‘Oliver. I’m so sorry…’
A big grin spread across his face. ‘And so you fucking well should be!’
‘I was vacuuming and I was miles away… and… and, well, I wandered in without thinking, and…’
‘You started thinking that I might be a bit kinky?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say.
Oliver’s laughing, loudly.
‘What’s so funny?’ I ask.
‘What… you think I’m embarrassed or something?’ He says.
‘Well you might not be, but I am! I’m not in the habit of sticking my nose into people’s private stuff.’
‘That might well be the case,’ says Oliver. ‘But the cat’s out of the bag now… or should I say the cat’s hung on the wall.’
He laughs again and I look at him puzzled.
‘Cat of nine tails…’ he says.
‘Oh.’ I glance across at the whip hung on the wall as the penny drops.
‘So, what do you think of me now?’ He asks.
I take a minute and look around the dungeon again, taking in what I’m seeing. ‘To be honest, knowing how much you’re into your thrill seeking stuff, it doesn’t really surprise me!’
‘Yeah I get that,’ he says. ‘Have you ever fancied trying it out?’
Suddenly I realise that although I love sex and that I’m quite promiscuous, I’ve not really been very adventurous when it comes to trying different lifestyles.
‘Yes of course I have,’ I lie. It’s only a little lie because I have been tied up before. I’ve just never seen or played in a proper dungeon.
Oliver laughs again.
He’s got one of those laughs that lights up his whole face, and I like that, a lot. His pale blue eyes are twinkling and his pupils are large, possibly due to the dim lighting but more likely because he’s aroused. I’ve learned to notice sexual cues but also learned you need to take other things into account that might stimulate them, like the environment for example. Oliver is a hot bloke. I say bloke…he’s mid to late twenties, twenty eight I think, and because of his boyish good looks, neatly styled, side parted mousey blonde hair and slim build, he could still probably pass for late teens. He’s definitely hot.
Up until this point we’ve only flirted in passing. He’s usually busy in his office when I come, and I never clean his office.
‘Are you telling me the truth?’ He asks.
‘Well, I’ve been tied up before, but I’ve never seen a set up like this.’
‘Ah!’ he says. ‘A virgin.’
‘You know what I mean. There’s no need to be touchy.’ He’s grinning at me. ‘Well, now you know about it you might as well add this to your cleaning remit. And, if you ever fancy trying it out, let me know,’ he says. With that he turns round and started towards the door.
‘Wait!’ I say, my mouth engaging before my brain can stop it.
I realise I am quite turned on. Maybe it’s the musky smell of sex in the room, maybe it’s the thought of all the kinky, sexy action that’s taken place in this room, or maybe it’s the thrill of trying something new…whatever it is, it’s got me going and I’m feeling a tingle of excitement low down in my belly. ‘Wait!’
‘What is it?’
‘Maybe you could talk me through what some of these things are for?’ I suggest.
Oliver stops and turns back to face me. He gives me a long, slow appraising look and I can tell he’s mentally undressing me. It makes my thighs squirm and my panties thrillingly damp. The cheeky, knowing look on his face tells me he’s keen.
‘I think it would be fun to play with you in here,’ he says. ‘But to do it properly we’d need time, and we’d need to sort out a limits agreement too.’ He pauses, clearly weighing something up. ‘But to be honest, I am really busy today and working to a deadline.’
‘Oh. Okay.’ I try and fail to hide my disappointment.
He looks at me thoughtfully. ‘But if you want you can ask me about some of the things in here and what they’re for, and how they’re used…’
What I really want at that moment in time is for him to tie me to something, bend me over, slap my arse and take me from behind like the horny slut I feel. My inner itch is itching to be scratched! However, that’s doesn’t seem to be on the cards, so I accept his compromise. ‘Okay then, what the hell is that for?’ I ask, pointing to the dog cage.
‘Well,’ says Oliver smiling. ‘Let’s just say that’s for really naughty girls. Do you want to try it out?’
I’m relieved he didn’t say anything perverse.
A battle starts in my head. No. Yes. No. Yes. No.
‘Hmmm,’ I say and I give in to the yes voice. ‘Okay.’
He opens the cage door. ‘Get in, bitch.!’ He says with a laugh. I drop onto my hands and knees and clamber in feeling decidedly unappealing. He closes the door behind me and immediately I realise I don’t like it.
‘Let me out! LET ME OUT!’
‘Woah,’ he says opening the door quickly. I scuttle out and sit on the floor taking deep breaths.
‘Jeez,’ he says. ‘What happened there?’
‘I didn’t like that at all.’ I’m panting like a greyhound after a race. ‘That’s way too confined and restricted for me.’
‘I will be in a few seconds,’ I say gulping down deep breaths, trying to slow my racing heart.
‘Well, at least we know that’s not for you,’ he says.
‘Absolutely.’ I’m till panting.
‘Maybe we should try something a little less confined,’ he says. ‘Do you fancy trying those shackles out?’ He points to the X shaped cross. ‘I don’t have to fully tighten them, if you don’t want.’
The combination of my initial excitement and the fear of confinement has clearly got my adrenalin moving, and I’m somewhat surprised to hear myself agreeing. Oliver holds out his hand which I take, and he leads me to the cross.
‘Not my ankles though,’ I tell him.
‘No problem.’ He buckles each of my hands into the shackles. They’re quite tight nevertheless I could get myself out, if I really wanted to.
‘How does that feel?’ He asks.
‘Fine. But, to be honest I don’t get it.’
‘Don’t get what?’
‘I don’t get what the thrill is,’ I say.
‘We’re only playing at it here Carla,’ he says. ‘Would you like to play a bit more seriously?’
I pick up on the contradiction in his words. ‘Play, seriously?’
‘You know damn well what I mean, smart arse.’
‘I know but…’
‘Well, do you want to, or not?’
He’s being serious and I’m not quite sure how to take it, but the thought of letting him play with me while I’m shackled and helpless is thrilling.
I can hear the apprehension in my voice as I acquiesce.
He undoes the buckles and says ‘Good, now strip.’ His eyes have become stern and serious and I start to undo my combats.
‘Safe words,’ he says. ‘If you want me to stop at any point say red. Got it?’
I nod as I lift my top over my head.
‘And if you want me just to slow down, the word is mercy. Got that?’
‘Got it.’ I’m stood looking at him in just my bra and panties and he looks me up and down. It makes me feel quite self conscious in a way I’ve never felt before. ‘Do want everything off?’
‘No. Give me your hands and repeat the safe words back to me.’ This time he shackles me in a bit tighter than before and as he does I repeat the safe words – red means stop, mercy means slow down. I’m still convinced that if I really wanted to I could break free.
‘What happens now?’ I ask.
‘Did I say you could talk?’ His voice is stern and authoritive. ‘You need to understand the importance of the safe words. If you tell me to stop or that you’ve had enough, I’ll take it that you’re playing. Absolutely no other requests, demands or resistance will make me stop what I do. Understand?’
He steps back, gazing at my barely covered body. I’m wishing I’d worn better underwear, something that at least matched. My feelings of self consciousness are making themselves known with a thumping beat in my chest. I pull against my restraints and realise he really has made sure I can’t get out this time.
‘You understand?’ He says again.
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Think so!’ He says. ‘Not good enough.’
I strain against the shackles narrowing the shape of my hands to try and slip them out.
‘It’s no good trying to escape,’ he says and he’s right, I can’t get my hands out and the chains are bolted to the cross so there’s no give there.
‘Do you understand?’ He demands again.
‘Good. Now, you’ve been somewhat wayward today Carla, sticking your fucking nose in where it shouldn’t be, haven’t you?’
I nod. Inside I’m screaming RED RED RED. I realise I don’t know Oliver that well and he could in fact be one of those fucked up crazy killers I read about in Val McDermid novels – the kind Tony Hill and Carol Jordan hunt for in the Wire In The Blood series. What the hell am I doing here! RED RED RED.
Then I notice him looking at my breasts, and the look on his face says lust, not kill.
I’ve never felt so vulnerable and so alive at the same time.
My pants are soaking and I can smell my arousal in the air. He must be able to smell that too. He seems to stare at my body for ages but in reality it’s only a few seconds before he steps forward. Reaching behind me he pulls me away from the cross and deftly unclips my bra.
‘You’ve clearly done that before,’ I say.
He takes my face with his hand and turns it towards him so he’s nose to nose with me, glaring deep into my eyes. His other hand is under my bra, grasping my breast, squeezing my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
‘Did, I, say, you, could, talk.’ He says.
I shake my head.
He pushes me back against the cross and the cold surface of the wood against my skin makes me shiver. My bra has those little clips at the front that hook the shoulder straps to the cups, Oliver undoes them and pulls my bra off completely. He puts both of his hands around my neck like he’s going to choke me but he slides them down over my breasts, rib cage and onto my midriff. It makes me clench in anticipation and a part of me wishes I’d done a few more crunches this morning.
‘You filthy little slut,’ he says, tracing his fingers slowly up and down my belly. It’s excruciating. I’m twitching and jerking like a fish on a line.
We’re still face to face. I nod, saying nothing. He hasn’t said I can speak yet.
‘I’m going to abuse your body as punishment for discovering my secret.’
I nod again, our noses rubbing against each other. My lips are aching for him to kiss me.
‘You want me to kiss you don’t you?’
Is he fucking psychic or what? He sees the astonishment on my face.
‘They always want to be kissed,’ he says. ‘But naughty sluts don’t get kissed. They get punished and fucked.’
With one hand on my breast he slips the other inside my pants, feeling my wetness.
‘Jesus Carla,’ he says. ‘You are a naughty little slut aren’t you!’
I’m so not used to this at all. I’m the one normally in control and at this point all I want to do is throw my arms around him and ride him until I hit that magic moment where waves of pleasure throw me into an ocean of ecstasy. His teasing fingers are not helping at all! He’s gently circling them in and out of all my sensitive folds and around my hot little clit. I’m trapped between exhilaration and agony, my body aching to taken, craving to have him inside me.
‘You bastard!’ The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. ‘You utter, fucking, teasing bastard.’
‘That’s more like it. I like a bit of fight in my girl,’ he says and he rips my knickers off completely, pushing them down my thighs.
I’m totally exposed, caught between desire and vulnerability.
‘But I still didn’t say you could talk.’
He turns me round so I’m facing the wall, pulling my hips back so my backside is stuck out, facing him.
‘It’s time you were punished for your wayward ways,’ he says, stepping so he’s sideways on to me. ‘Arch your back, stick your arse right out.’
I do as I’m told. My arms are crossed in front of me and at full stretch. I look back, trying to see what he’s doing but at the moment all he’s doing is squeezing my cheeks, giving them an occasional slap after which he squeezes again, slipping his fingers between my thighs and caressing my wet lips with his finger tips. Suddenly he swings his arm back and spanks me. My legs jerk with the shock.
It hurt, but in a good way.
‘Bastard,’ I say.
He swings and spanks again.
Each time after the spank he keeps his hand on my cheek and touches between my legs as though testing I’m still turned on. I am. I’m getting wetter and wetter as I realise this is just the build up to him grabbing me by the hips and fucking me senseless. This is foreplay like I’ve never experienced before. I know it’s coming, I just don’t know when. Only Oliver knows. If this were a night out dancing in a club with Beth and some chap was trying to pull me and get into my pants, then I’d be the one who knew if and what was going to happen between us. But this is the other way round, and I realise I like it. It’s good to let go of the reigns, to relax into someone else’s control, even if it does have a mix of pain and pleasure with it. But I guess guys go through that too. The pain of rejection when they chat a girl up mixed with the pleasure of a result when their charms work on us. The combination works and I guess we’re all wired to appreciate that in some way.
‘Had enough yet, slut?’
‘Just fuck me you bastard.’
And again, but harder this time.
‘You’re loving this aren’t you slut.’
‘Fuck me you bastard.’
And again, ever harder. My cheeks feel inflamed.
‘I can do this all day and night,’ he says.
It’s at that point I realise this is where I have the control. He will indeed keep spanking, until I comply. I can get him to fuck me if I’m a good little slut, and keep my mouth shut.
But maybe not just yet…
I decide to keep this going a couple more times before finally saying nothing after his spank.
‘Have you finished being a cheeky slut? He asks.
I nod, my head down. I take a few deep breaths to control the flaming sensation my poor arse is feeling.
‘Are you sure?’ He asks.
I nod again.
He turns me round to face him.
‘I know what you want,’ he says, and he reaches to undo the shackles.
I wasn’t expecting that. I thought he was going to fuck me there and then. Maybe he’s going to move me somewhere else and take me.
‘But not today,’ he says.
I’m gob-smacked, but daren’t say anything just yet, just in case.
‘We’ll go further another day, when I’ve got more time. I can wait. We’re finished playing today’
‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ I say. ‘You get me all turned on and horny and just leave it there!’
I’m torn between rampant and anger.
‘You total bastard,’ I say. ‘How can you do that? Aren’t you turned on?’
‘Oh hell yes,’ he admits. ‘But it’ll be all the more sweeter if we wait.’
Given that one of my pleasures is the thrill of the build up I can’t deny what he’s saying. I’m just not used to it being this way round. It’s me that should be holding back and doing the teasing, me that should be in control here. Me!
‘Besides,’ he says. ‘We really need to talk a bit more about this lifestyle before going ahead. If you’re really interested?’
I’m still stunned as I grab my clothes and get dressed.
‘I can’t deny it Oliver, I’m impressed.’
‘There aren’t many men who would have held back.’
‘Well,’ he says. ‘I like to think I’m different to other men’
‘You sure as hell are!’
That was my first encounter with Oliver. Without doubt you’ll be hearing more about him in future posts.
If you like you can follow my daily activities on Twitter.
Until next time 🙂