'This is my show, Sophie, not yours. I suppose we'd better put you out of your misery though. Sir?' She nods at the final witness, who approaches bearing a dildo whose size holds no fears for me now in my extremity of need. Unusually, it is made of glass, a pellucid crystal through which the man's face is virtually undistorted. His avid lust beams through the dildo and tears into me; I know he is going to give it to me just the way I want.
'All the way in?' he asks softly, teasing my hole with the cold glass bulb. It is both shocking and heavenly, the chill smoothness of it; I wrench at my tethers even as I beg for him to fill me.
He puts a hand on my belly, keeping me immobile, and begins to slide the dildo smoothly in. My tension unravels, quickly, too quickly, spinning me round and out of control. I can hear myself gibbering but I have no idea what fragments of words are coming from my mouth; I have collapsed inwards so that my whole body now resides between my glass-brimming thighs. The plug in my bottom has narrowed my channel so that the dildo feels burstingly, lusciously tight as it glides up to meet and greet its anal neighbour. I am left there for a moment or two, to get used to the wonderful front and rear occupation, and for my audience to admire the state of me, naked and tied with my holes packed tight.
'Please,' I whimper, so close to satisfaction, yet so far away.
'Is there something I can do for you?' laughs the man, grinding the heel of his hand into the end of the dildo, forcing it even further in.
'Please fuck me with it, please.'
'Of course! You only had to ask!' He begins a leisurely manipulation of the tool, sometimes twisting it this way and that, sometimes bringing it slowly down and back, sometimes ramming it back and forth. His lack of predictable rhythm makes it difficult for me to attain the release I am striving for, but there is no way I can moderate his movements in my powerless position, so I just have to take it and hope he will find some pity for me eventually.
'Why don't you put the vibe on her clit?' he suggests to the previous man, who steps up and begins treating my outsized bud to some much-needed stimulation, while his companion continues to thrust the dildo in and out of me. I come, immediately and hugely, vast tremors laying me waste, while the audience clucks and coos, staring down at me. The men continue, though, until I am wrung out and running with sweat, holes distended, cunt raw, clit numbed after three, or is it four, high-voltage orgasms.
Then there is applause and praise that I barely take in. I lie there, feeling filleted, still full of dildo and plug, still in bondage, while Lura makes a number of lucrative business deals with her audience. Some of them bid me a cheery goodbye as they filter out back to the fair proper; Neil bends to my ear and says, 'My room tonight, sexy?' but I can't answer. The way I feel right now, it's probably a no.
'Oh, Sophie,' sighs Lura, removing the crystal dildo and plunging it into a basin of hot soapy water. 'That was superb.' She begins to wipe the lipstick vibrator with a cloth, clearly in no hurry to unleash me. 'Did you enjoy it?'
I exhale deeply. 'I nearly went mad. I think the memory is going to see me through a lot of sleepless nights though.'
'Well, you know,' says Lura, leaning over me and unclip-ping my restraints, 'if you have that many sleepless nights, you need more sex.'
'More? More sex?' I shake out my limbs, which are painfully stiff now. 'Does not compute.'
'Perhaps those boys aren't satisfying you.' She pouts at me, flirtatious in her uniquely intimidating way. 'Perhaps you need something more.'
'I don't need a mistress, Lura. Besides, don't you have enough members of your harem now?'
'I'll always have a vacancy for you, Sophie.' She removes my suspender belt and stockings, my collar and gauntlets, and sponges me down. She takes such care of me, dabbing my nipples so gently, wiping delicately between my lips, mopping my brow and removing the excess make-up with cold cream and tissues. Then she has me turn over on all fours, and performs the part of the operation I always dread – the removal of the butt plug.
'You know you should push, Sophie,' she scolds, slapping my bum when my treacherous muscles contract around the whip handle for a fourth time. 'It isn't as if this is new to you.'
'I know,' I mutter, shamed and subdued, but I cannot seem to stop myself until she finally wrenches it out with a flourish and gives me a few extra expiational swats of the horsehair. Then she bathes my sore arse with balm, rubbing it in long and tenderly before laying me down on my stomach and covering me with a satin throw.
'Rest for a while, Sophie,' she advises. 'I'll fetch coffee. You've another three hours behind the till to do yet. And wait till I show you what you're going to wear for that.'
She winks and pats my satiny bum with her riding crop.
I shut my eyes and drift off, making the most of the break. Everyone knows that Lura never leaves with less than her full money's worth.
Pool and Jacuzzi
One of the best things about working here is free or subsidised use of the many hotel facilities. I am coiffed and buffed by the salon, trimmed by the gym and fashionably fed in the restaurant. For a small fee, I can have my body covered in mud and pummelled into submission, though I'm pretty sure I could get something similar free of charge from my gentleman friends in the bar.
My favourite perk of all, though, is use of the pool. The pool is where all the tangled threads of the day are unknotted; my burning for Chase is extinguished by the lapping waters while any petty affronts or annoyances are diluted to insignificance as I float beneath the flickering tips of light on the ceiling.
And then, if I still need additional stress relief, there is always Jake.
Jake is still my favourite lifeguard, still here even though he no longer has to support himself through academic study, still my shaggy-haired, broad-chested, cheeky young chopper of choice. He is temporarily constant, erratically reliable. If I need an uncomplicated bit of in-out with a man who knows my erogenous zones, Jake is always on call. Not that I'm using him for my own sordid ends, you understand. Oh no, it works both ways. We are mutually safe harbours from the dark waters of passion and romance. We like it like that.
On one particular Thursday in December, the pool was quiet save for a pair of middle-aged German men in the jacuzzi discussing the banking crisis. I did my little mermaid impression for half an hou
r, diving and swirling in the blue-green depths, until I was suddenly seized around the waist. The suddenness of it caused me to scissorkick but the weightlessness of my legs sent them off in completely the wrong direction and I was easily overpowered by my subaqueous attacker.
'Jake!' I protested, once my head broke the surface. I was clamped with my back to his chest, his arms wrapped tight around my ribcage. I continued to kick my legs, but more for aerobic exercise than in a serious escape attempt.
'What's the matter? I thought you were drowning!'