Chapter Three

Which is worse, to simply be late, or to turn up at the office still wearing last night’s cocktail dress and smelling of stale sex? In the days when I worked in advertising, the latter would probably have made me look very creative and gone down rather well, but in the not quite so up-its-own-arse world of industrial design where I now make my living, I decide that it’s a bad example to set to my minions and opt for home, a shower, a change of clothes and being late. Unlike Sue, I hate being late, especially in my professional life, but I guess it’s a privilege I can take occasionally being as it’s my name on the plaque by the door. I sit down at my desk and try to get on with some work, but it’s not happening. My love and sex life is churning through my head and I can’t seem to think about anything else. To start with, there’s my upcoming date with The Machine which I don’t really know whether I’m eagerly awaiting or dreading. I think it’s the former, but I’m not sure.

 

The Machine is a minor blip though, compared to the other two aspects of my current state of disarray. My love, lust and desire for Sue seem to be coming to a head and getting out of control. I have to tell her and I’m going to tell her. I just need to find the right moment. But then I’ve been waiting for the right moment for nearly thirteen years and haven’t found it yet. It feels like it’s driving me mad. Last night, without thinking, I was almost pushing my fingers into her arse. Surely she must have known. And that kiss. Was she really just making fun of Richard, or was there more to it? My God, what a mess. Fix it Helena. One way or the other, but fix it for Christ’s sake.

 

The other source of my turmoil, which is somewhat related to my feelings for Sue, is also something that happened last night. For the first time in my life, I had sex with a woman. In the words of that awful song, “I kissed a girl and I liked it”, except I did a lot more than just kiss her. When I arrived at James’s flat, he did indeed have someone else there, and as he said, she certainly wasn’t in a position to object to anything. She was tied, tightly spread-eagled on his bed with a hood over her head and a gag in her mouth. James “suggested” that since I was robbing her of his sexual attention, it seemed only fair that I should make it up to her. So I did. I licked her and sucked her and kissed her and pushed my tongue into her and did everything else I could think of to her, while James filled my puss from behind. My only shame was how little it took to start me cumming, but James is a master at keeping a girl on the edge until just the right moment and in the almost words of another song, “we all came together”. He then produced a strap-on, a curious implement for a single man to own, and “suggested” that I should give the lady another thorough seeing to. Which again, I did. And I liked that too. After that he released her from the bed, but had me tie her up and she spent the night bound and hooded on the floor while I slept in the bed with James. I say slept, but there was a fair amount of fucking went on as well. It wasn’t until I woke up in the night that it occurred to me I might have raped the woman, for I had no clue as to her willingness in the whole debacle, but I saw her briefly in the morning, sans hood, and she didn’t seem to mind. She even made me coffee.

 

So what do I make of all this? Am I truly bi-sexual after all, or was it just a bit of three-in-a-bed fun? Or was I just submitting to a dominant man? I can be quite submissive if I regard my partner as stronger and more dominant than I am, but there are not many men who I feel fit that bill. James is certainly one of them though. I wouldn’t say he’s a misogynist because he doesn’t seem to hate women, but he certainly enjoys using them to satisfy his own needs, which fortunately often seem compatible with mine. But he didn’t really command me to pleasure his friend. He merely implied it was his price for fulfilling my burning need, and it was a price I was more than willing to pay. It’s true that my need was very burning, and maybe that was a reason in itself for me diving into that lady so wantonly. And with her being hooded and anonymous, was she really a woman, or just a body that was there to be used? I don’t know. I’m thirty five years old and feel as confused as a girl who’s just got her first period. What the hell is going on in my brain? Why am I such a mess?

 

My phone rings. Oh God, it’s Sue. Gotta pull myself together.

 

“Hi Hun. How’s my favourite commando?”

 

“Ha, not commando anymore. Back to normal down there, give or take some funny colours. I could still be a warrior princess for you though.”

 

“Yeah, we’d make a right pair of Amazons. Or superheroines.”

 

“Ah, but the trouble with that is if you wore your panties outside of your leotard, no-one would see them. They’re always that small.”

 

“Right. I’m sure you didn’t phone just to take the micky out of my underwear.”

 

“Err, no. Richard needs your measurements so he can set up The Machine for you.”

 

“Okay. Five foot nine, thirty nine D, twenty three, thirty eight.”

 

“Fuckin’ hell Hels. That’s some set of figures.”

 

“You’ve seen it Hun.”

 

“Yeah, but twenty three?”

 

“Well, alright. Twenty four if I’ve been on the custard doughnuts and chocolate. But if we’re going for a loose fit then I’ll have to go up to a double D.”

 

“Oh don’t even mention chocolate. Now this next one’s a bit personal. He needs to know err… what size cock you can take.”

 

“What? Well oh shit. I clean forgot to get me a measurement the last time I had one. What, does he think I carry a tape measure around with me to keep a record? Fuck, I don’t know. Put me down for a large one I guess”

 

“Ha, I knew you’d say that. Large.”

 

“When do you think he’ll have it ready for me anyway?”

 

“He’s hoping for this weekend if some bits turn up in the post.”

 

“This weekend? Oh shit.”

 

“No good for you?”

 

“Err, it’s fine. It’s just a bit scary, that’s all.”

 

“Relax Hels. It’s great fun. I can’t wait to watch.”

 

“Watch? But what about that box thingy.”

 

“Oh, I mean watch from the living room. Richard will have all your heart rate and stuff up on his laptop so he can see you’re ok, and we’ll be watching the game too. Just so we can cheer for you.”

 

“Oh Jesus.”

 

“And afterwards you can soak in the tub and I’ll scrub your back for you.”

 

“Oh Jesus.”

 

oOo

 

It’s Friday morning and I get an email from Sue to say that Royal Mail has come up trumps and The Machine will be ready for me in time for tomorrow afternoon’s football. I spend most of the day in a bit of a daze and to be honest, if one of my troops was this distracted and forgetful, I’d be giving them a good talking to. Fortunately there’s nothing Earth shattering happening at Dex Design today. They’re all just beavering away, being creative and making money. The relaxed Friday afternoon feeling creeps over everyone and at an impromptu gathering in the kitchen, Paul, who does the accounts, asks me if I have anything special planned for the weekend. I wonder if, in a workplace environment, it’s actually legal to tell your staff that if your weekend goes well you’ll be getting your brains fucked out by a sex machine, and if it goes badly the exact same machine is going to make mincemeat out of your arse. Either way, I might be moving around rather gingerly on Monday and so I just say I’m going horse riding with my friend. That should cover any wincing stiffness next week, but I can’t help feeling they can all tell I’m lying and know exactly what sort of kinky shenanigans I have planned.

 

I finally pluck up the courage to call Sue and tell her I need some me-and-her time this weekend as I have something I need to tell her. She suggests tomorrow evening, after my football match, but sounds concerned. I say it’s nothing to be worried about. Am I lying? Probably.

 

oOo

 

I doubt if Debrett’s New Guide to Etiquette and Modern Manners has a chapter on the correct dress code for when you’re going round to your friend’s place to be stripped naked and locked in a box with a maniacal sex machine. Smart casual doesn’t seem to cover it really. I think about jeans and a tee shirt, but what if I can’t manage jeans afterwards, like Sue in Costa? Oh fuck. It’s got to be a skirt, but that means cosy tights. There’s no way I’m going out with bare legs on the last day of January. But tights might be a no no afterwards too. I could try stockings, but none of the stockings in my drawer are thick enough to keep a British winter at bay. And are stockings too tarty anyway? Richard’s going to see me naked, but is he going to watch me undress? Oh God, it’s too complicated! In the end I opt for no tights or stockings, but a pair of racy Arollo thigh boots to keep my legs warm, and a below-the-knee hemmed skirt to avoid looking like I’m on the game. That way I can avoid frostbite and hopefully still get dressed if my team lose badly. I stick with the white tee shirt, adding a nice, wide stretchy belt to keep my curves on show, and take a couple of panty options in my bag. In my Celtic three-quarter Toscana coat and matching gloves, I’m off to my date with The Machine.

 

When I arrive at Richard’s house it’s all feeling very relaxed. Richard is still having breakfast and Sue is slobbing about in a chunky knit sweater and baggy leggings, but still somehow managing to look sexy. There’s time for coffee and small talk and it all seems like nothing very remarkable is about to happen, except that Richard advises to me to go easy on the coffee as I’ll be going nearly two hours without access to a toilet this afternoon. Why do I think that might be the least of my worries? Inevitably, the conversation moves to my initiation into the world of football fanaticism. Richard is scanning through the list of fixtures for this afternoon and asks what I sort of match I would like.

 

“There’s a number of games we could choose from. It sort of depends on what tickles your fancy really. Do you like it rough, or a bit more conventional?” he asks, looking up from his laptop that’s showing the fixture list.

 

“I don’t think the word ‘conventional’ belongs anywhere near this conversation.”

 

“Ha, well quite. But you know what I mean?”

 

“Yeah, I think I get it. How about a bit of both, but more ‘conventional’ would be good. I want to be a winner.”

 

Sue starts singing. “Everyone’s a winner baby, that’s no lie. You never fail, to satisfy, satisfyyyyyyy oooo.” Even as someone who is totally besotted with her, I would have to say she might be sexy, but she can’t sing.

 

“You could go with Arsenal v Man city,” suggests Richard. “Should be a good game.”

 

“No, not Arsenal. Not after what Sue got.”

 

“No, don’t go with Arsenal Hels. Ha Ha.”

 

“OK, so what about Chelsea v Swansea City. That should be a foregone conclusion. Swansea will get thrashed so you could be fairly sure of what you’re going to get. One way or the other.”

 

“Errr… anything a little harder to call? Need a bit of excitement. Preferably a team that plays in red. Gotta co-ordinate with my hair.”

 

“Ah, well how about this? Liverpool v Norwich City. Both good teams, but you’d expect Liverpool to take it. Could go either way though.”

 

“So are you suggesting Liverpool as winners?”

 

“I’m not suggesting any winners and then getting blame if it turns out err… bruising. I’m still getting grief over recommending Arsenal last week. But Liverpool do play in red.”

 

“Well, what the hell, as long as I’m not backing a donkey, put me down for Liverpool.”

 

Sue fires up again. “And you’ll neeeevvvvveeeeeer waaaaaaaalk… Again.”

 

“Has she been on the vino already today? I ask Richard.

 

“Dunno. She’s been like this all morning.”

 

“Just trying to bring some culture to the proceedings,” says Sue.

 

“OK then. Good choice Helena. Liverpool it is. Come on you Reds. We’ll be cheering them on for you, won’t we Sue?”

 

“Yeah yeah. Sure thing Hels. You can rely on us.”

 

“Hmmm. Somehow I’m not re-assured by that.”

 

“Well it’s all ready for you next door Kick off’s at three.”

 

oOo

 

Richard’s workshop has been tidied up a bit since my last visit. The workbenches are still covered with stuff, but much of the floor has been cleared and there’s space to walk about. The Machine is still lurking in the corner, its cover raised and the labyrinth of engineering exposed. At first sight it looks pretty much as it did the other night, but on closer inspection I can see a few changes have been made. The stalk that Sue had her mouth around is now topped with a black ball, not much bigger than a golf ball, and I can see that the rather vague mechanism under the chest area now sports a pair of odd looking, soft rings in a figure eight shape that leaves no doubt as to which part of the female anatomy they are intended for. But it is the other end of the workings that really gets my attention. For start, it seems that those smooth, springy looking wooden spankers have been replaced with ones full of holes. They look like an Edam cheese. I’m not sure what that’s all about. And that mechanism that I recognised from my evening of web research is now equipped with an ending. It’s a curious looking thing, rather resembling a dagger. A crescent of shiny metal, like a new moon, forms the hilt and the blade is a smooth, white, plasticy looking lozenge, but the sight of it makes me feel, well rather disappointed really.

 

“That’s err… a large? It’s not very big.” I look round at Richard who is standing behind me with Sue. They look at each other and giggle, like there’s some sort of joke.

 

“I think you’ll find it erm… adequate,” says Sue.

 

“You know Dr Who’s Tardis? Well it’s kinda like that. It gets bigger when inside,” says Richard and they both burst out laughing.

 

“Yeah, this one does too,” says Sue as her laughter subsides and she gestures to another odd looking device that I hadn’t noticed. This one is curved, almost like a hook and has another little black ball on the end. It sits on a mechanism that is higher up in the forest of stuff and is a bit obscured by some sort of control box. “Guess where this one goes,” she says, eagerly.

 

I look at the newly introduced piece of hardware and my heart almost stops as I realise what it is and where it indeed does go. “Oh fuck,” is all I manage to say. It dawns on me just what I have signed up for here. I’m not a virgin back there but I’ve never had something in both at once. And my boobs at the same time? And whatever else this crazy machine has as well? Oh God. Is there any shame in backing out? I’ve got nothing to prove here. But then the thought of having to see Sue every bloody Sunday looking flushed and alive and full of post coital energy, bragging about the football score, and me wondering what it’s like? No, I’m not having that.

 

“Ah well. Bring it on. Bring it all on. Helena Dex will wear it out.” I wish I believed my own bravado.

 

“Ha. Anything you can do, I can do better is it? Make it really big for her Richard.”

 

Sue’s words strike a certain amount of panic in me, but I think I manage to hide it. What did she mean though? That hook thingy looks innocuous enough. It’s hardly thicker than my finger and the ball on the end, well it’s no wider than the average cock and I know they fit up me. But it “gets bigger when inside”? Oh shit. Literally, shit. I’ve had enough of seeing what’s waiting for my lower regions. I turn and look back at the “head” end of things and an obvious question pops into my mind.

 

“Richard, how will I be watching the match? There’s no telly in here.”

 

“Ah, no. I’ve got something much more immersive than a telly.” He picks up a small box from the nearby workbench and I see some words written on it.

 

“Fat Shark Dominator?” I read the words on the box. “That sounds like a name for a sex toy if ever I read one.”

 

“Err… well yes, I suppose it does. Never occurred to me. You must have a very dirty mind Helena.” He opens the box and shows me a weird looking thing that looks like a pair of chunky sunglasses, except there’s no lenses, just solid, white and blue plastic. “They’re actually video goggles. The latest thing,” he continues. “The screen is right up in front of your eyes. It’s like being there with fifty thousand other fans.”

 

“Oh great. So as well as getting my brains fucked out, or whatever else, I’ll feel like I’m doing it in front of a crowd? You really do think of everything.”

 

“We aim to please. Well I’m going to do the gentleman thing and retire now leaving the ladies to get prepared. Sue knows where to put most of the stuff and I’ll come back and check it all before kick off, but I promise to be in professional, doctor mode.”

 

“Hey, there’s no need to be polite about a bit of nudity when I’m taking your fucking machine for a test drive.”

 

“Well maybe not. But I insist. See you soon,” he replies as he makes his exit, leaving me alone in the workshop with Sue. I suddenly feel very awkward, not because of anything that’s about to happen now, it’s later on when I open my heart to her that I’m bothered about. Sue seems to detect my unease, but is totally wrong about the reason of course.

 

“Relax Hels. You really will love it. I guarantee it.”

 

“Oh, I know. It’s just a bit of fun isn’t it.”

 

“Sure. Just go with the flow and have a good time. I just know you’ll be back for more after today.”

 

“Yeah, well we’ll see how the whole weekend goes before we get too carried away. I have to confess, I had a little fantasy time with my Hitachi last Sunday. I pictured myself being strapped to a fucking machine by err… you. It looks like it’s coming true.”

 

“Woohoo. I’m getting to star in Helena Dex’s fantasies. Phew, that’s hot Hels.”

 

“You have no idea how hot. I suppose it is time to make it come true isn’t it.”

 

“In your fantasy, was I being nice or nasty?”

 

“Err… dominant.”

 

“Right, well get a move on Dex. Clothes off now. I haven’t got all day.”

 

“Err… OK. Errm… Mistress.”

 

Did I just do that, call her Mistress? I suppose I did, and it felt bloody good. Until now I’ve just been feeling really nervous about everything, but, with my little fantasy about to come true and with Sue being dominant over me, albeit just in a comedy way, well it’s not surprising how my body reacts. As I lose my belt and tee shirt, I think that, other than the exact nature of the fucking machine, this is pretty well just how I imagined it as my Triple Pleaser did its stuff to me last Sunday. I suppose, if I’m being picky, although I didn’t really specify what Sue was wearing, I don’t think a chunky sweater and baggy leggings really featured. I decide to lose my skirt before the boots because their zip only goes up to the top of the calf and they have to be wiggled off with some minor gymnastics. Maybe it’s also a sub-conscious attempt to give Sue the hots for me before tonight, because it leaves me standing in just my bra, pants and a pair of very sexy thigh boots. It seems like they have the desired effect.

 

“Phwoar! Look at you in those boots!” squeals Sue as the skirt joins my other stuff on a chair.

 

“You like?” I do some exaggerated strutting about for her. “They’re actually just to keep my legs warm. I was aware of your problem last Sunday.”

 

“Oh yes. I remember. But they look fab. Are they your Arollos?”

 

“Yep. That’s them. Haven’t worn them for a while.” I sit down and start to unzip the boots.

 

“Can I try them?”

 

“Sure.” Was I hoping she would say that? Maybe. I wriggle out of one boot and pass it to her. She pushes her hand inside.

 

“Ooh, these feel lovely. So soft in there. I think erm… these pants will have to go.”

 

Sue pulls down her baggy leggings and steps out of them. Underneath she’s got on the sexiest pair of pale pink knickers. She sits on the floor and starts working her leg into my boot. It’s easier for her to get them on as her legs are a bit thinner than mine and her feet are half a size smaller. She’s ready for my second boot as soon as I’ve squeezed my way out of it. She slides into it and zips them both closed, and then gets up and struts about, the heels making their noisy cop cop on the wooden floor. I’m thinking I don’t need to go in a sex machine to have my naughty bits tickled and brought to the boil, sitting here watching Sue in my boots and calling her ‘Mistress’ all afternoon will do the job very nicely.

 

“These are fabulous. I can just imagine wearing these to work with a longish skirt and no-one being any the wiser as to what I’m hiding. Kinda sexy eh? I don’t know if I could manage these heels all day though. And you can’t just slip ‘em off under your desk really.”

 

“You think they’re hard. You should try my Manolos.”

 

“Yeah, they must take half the day to get off. I do like these though Hels.”

 

“Why not wear them to work on Monday then?”

 

“Ha Ha. I’ve got to go down to one of our reserves next week. I can really see me wading through the marshes in these, or trying to change into wellies at the back of the car.”

 

“No worse than that skirt you bought last week.”

 

“Hmmm. I don’t know what I was thinking there. It’s not really work attire is it.”

 

“I did wonder.”

 

“Anyway, come on you. Lose the underwear and get in that machine. I’m feeling dominant in these boots.”

 

“Err… yes Mistress.”

 

I finish undressing and approach The Machine. Sue cop cops up behind me.

 

“Right, lift your right leg and stick it down through those two hoops there.”

 

“Erm… Sue. Can I ask a favour?”

 

“Sure, ask away. No, I mean, what d’you want, Slave?”

 

“Could you lose the jumper? It’s kinda spoiling it for me.”

 

“Ooh. Dirty slave.”