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Digital Spy Ch. 06

Kategori: Genel

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This chapter could just as easily gone in the non-consent/reluctance category, so please be warned if you find such material offensive.


Wednesday was the first day since I arrived that passed largely without incident. I spent a productive day in the lab, and though Max was still flirtatious I think the knowledge that I’d be endorsing her whatever happened made her dial it down a notch. I met Julia, who was enjoying the challenge of sorting out Corman’s mess enormously, for lunch and we had a quiet meal in the Company restaurant, Julia taking the opportunity to introduce me to her friends within the firm. Even without the corporate gossip machine it was obvious that we were a couple, and all of them said how happy, indeed radiant, Julia looked.

Max and I gave a short presentation to Carstairs in the afternoon to unveil our new prototype, and I was careful to point out the innovations she had suggested. Carstairs was thrilled. “Capital work, old chap, truly capital. Two days on the job and already you’re coming up with the goods, eh what? And as for you, young lady, play your cards right and you might get a team of your own one of these days, eh? Jolly good show!” Max beamed, and winked at me. I had a feeling there might be a few more ‘prototype testing’ sessions in my future.

As we were about to leave Carstairs called me back for a moment. “One more thing, old boy. Your little indiscretion with Miss Brighton the other day.”

“Um, yes, sorry about that,” I mumbled. “It won’t…”

“Oh, pish and tish!” he cut me off. “Always fun to shake up the troops a bit! And Miss Brighton certainly is quite the fine filly, though I must say I’m jolly surprised that she’s such a spirited thing, eh? Haha! Anyway, we’ve been trying to pension off that dreadful Arthur Corman for years, so the pair of you did us a favour. And your little Internet sideline hardly suffered either – I hear the upper echelons are enjoying it immensely these days. There’ll be a little something extra in Miss Brighton’s mail this week, I should think. And possibly some photos for her to autograph, eh? Capital! Oh, and this is for you,” he pushed a brown envelope into my hands. “Anyway, onward and upward eh? Toodle pip!”

I walked out of Carstairs’ office with the feeling I always had after talking to him; that I’d accidentally slipped into a Carry On film or an old episode of Dad’s Army or something. But he was clearly happy with me and that generally meant good things happening. I opened the envelope and inside found a police report. Birmingham’s serious crime unit had turned over Samira’s family’s house and found some seriously twisted shit. It seems that as well as abusing Samira they were also distributing illegal porn – pretty rich coming from me I know, but I was repulsed by the stuff they were dealing in. My own rather fucked-up morality was that even if I wasn’t secretly filming people fucking, they’d be doing it anyway, so why shouldn’t a few other people enjoy it too? But what these guys were doing, with animals, kids and God knows what else, was just foul. They were all liable to be imprisoned for a very long time. At the back of the file was a note from a social worker, who said Samira was staying with friends. She was traumatised but apparently glad that her ordeal was over – she’d told police that the attack on her had happened because she’d found out about her Dad and brothers’ activities and threatened to go to the police. I decided to delete her file from the site when I got home, as I felt she’d been through enough.

Back at the lab, I took a quiet moment to flick through Imani’s personnel file. It was very in-depth, as I guess was standard practice for the Company, but there was nothing to suggest she might be open to some of my more unusual ideas. Then under ‘extracurricular activities’ I found an unusual note: all it had was the name of an alley in Soho and a phone number. Intrigued, I copied it down.

That evening I closed the door to Julia’s study and dialled the number. A female voice answered, “hello?”

“Hi, I got this number from a… friend.”

“I see. And what is your friend’s name?”

I panicked for a moment, then blurted out “Carstairs!”

“Ah yes, one of our best customers. Very well, so you know about us and what we do, yes?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“Then all that remains is our fee. It will be £1,000 per calendar month and the minimum contract period is 12 months, payable in advance.” Twelve grand? Holy shit. I could afford it but it was a lot just to satisfy my curiosity. The voice continued, “after this time you may pay on a monthly basis and are free to cancel at any time, although,” a slightly smug note entered the voice, “nobody ever does.”

“That will be fine,” I replied, trying to keep my voice casual.

She read me a number and told me to wire-transfer the money. “We must have confirmed payment before your first visit. If you are able to transfer the money tomorrow I can arrange a car to collect you tomorrow night.”

Time Bahçeşehir Escort to ask the big question. “Will Imani be there?”

“No, Imani will be with us again this coming Friday. Shall I book a car for then?” I agreed she should. “Very good, the car will be with you at 8pm. I look forward to receiving your payment tomorrow, and I will see you on Friday. Will you be bringing any female companions? They will of course be covered by your membership.”

“One,” I said. “Er, maybe two.”

“Excellent. We ask that gentlemen visiting us dress smartly, and ladies dress sexily – if indeed they wish to dress at all.” She hung up.


I told Julia about the call and she found the whole thing highly exciting. “Dress sexily, huh? What do you think, Aless? Can we make ourselves sexy for Daddy?” Aless was sitting on the sofa wearing nothing but one of my shirts. She looked dynamite.

“Oh, I’m sure you can help me to dress up, Mummy!” she laughed.

“By the way, Dan, look what I found today. It was in my in-tray at the office.” She held out a blue envelope. Inside was a cheque for 150 grand.

“Holy…” I started, but trailed off. The cheque had been signed by Carstairs.

“That’s what I think Corman would have been due in severance if the bastard had ever retired,” continued Julia. “But since he resigned so suddenly I guess he gets nothing. Fancy them giving it to me instead.” She fixed me with a hard stare. “You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you? Old Carstairs doesn’t usually have much to do with us civilians, you know.”

“He… may have mentioned it,” I mumbled. “Was, er, was there anything else?”

“Now that you mention it, there was,” she said conversationally, though I could tell she was watching me carefully. She pulled out another envelope filled with glossy photos – hi-res stills from movie files on the site. On the back of each was printed a code, which I assumed was related to a location. “What should I do with these, do you think?”

“Er, I suggest you autograph them, and then put the envelope in your outgoing mail,” I said awkwardly. “I think they’ll reach their destination.”

“Autograph them? Do you mean I have some fans in high places?” She grinned. “Good things happen when you’re around, Dan!”

I smiled weakly. “All part of the service.”


The next day was largely uneventful, though a couple of the less snooty mothers did say hello to me when I dropped Aless off at school. We chatted briefly until Miss Howard, the headmistress, stalked over. The mothers made their excuses and fled before the severe looking woman got close. But I needn’t have worried; though her manner was stern she was actually quite friendly and articulate. She mentioned that Aless’s teachers had noticed how much livelier she seemed in class this week, something missing from her behaviour in the months since her father left. I was thrilled, and told Miss Howard it was a pleasure to be helping out.

At the lab I called my bank and arranged the transfer of funds. There was a note on my desk from Carstairs, written in his curious style. “Good news old chap – your new place is ready! Had a word to the foreman and he put in double-quick time. Pick the keys up tomorrow from accommodation section, you can move in on Saturday. TTFN, C.” I was pleased, but also a little disappointed – I’d got used to living with Julia and Aless. That evening I said so.

Julia cuddled up to me in bed – as did Aless, who had taken to sleeping with us in Julia’s room. “Look, Dan. Wherever you go, that’s where we’ll be. Right, love?” Aless nodded enthusiastically. “This house is too big anyway, I only stay here to annoy Giles. I’m sure if I sold it I’d make a packet.”

“Why sell it, Mum?” asked Aless. “After I get my A-levels I’ll be going to King’s College or UCL. I could keep an eye on the place and you could rent the other rooms out to students.” She burrowed under my arm so that it was wrapped around her. “I’d still come and visit though, Daddy, all the time.”

I pondered this. “So we rent the rooms to students…”

“Attractive female ones, naturally,” added Julia.

“…naturally, and film the results! Aless, you’re a genius.”

She beamed. “And with me there to encourage them all to sunbathe nude, bring back as many guys as possible and play strip Twister, we’ll get loads of footage for the site.”

“I think Aless deserves a consultancy fee,” I said. “I apparently have lots of parking space in the new building; why don’t we get her a car?”

Aless trembled in my arm, waiting for Julia’s response. She looked serious for a moment, but it was all a sham. She took one look at Aless’s earnest, expectant face and laughed. “What a perfect idea! Maybe after we take a look around on Saturday we can go car shopping.” Aless gave a little whoop of joy, and clambered over me to give her mother a thank you kiss. Then she kissed her some more. I sighed happily and settled back to watch the show.


Friday in the lab Beylikdüzü Escort was torture, as all I could think about was that night’s mysteries outing. In the end I sent everyone home early and called Julia. She was also on tenterhooks about it and had just done the same. I had driven her in that morning and we met in the car park. “I thought I’d go home early and help Aless pick an outfit,” she whispered as we got into the Lambo.

We ate a hurried dinner as Julia and Aless, dressed in bathrobes, fussed with their hair and makeup. I left them to it, showering quickly in the small bathroom downstairs and putting on a dark blue suit, red tie, pale grey shirt and black patent shoes. The girls didn’t appear until the doorbell rang at 8 sharp. They came down the stairs wearing matching long black duster coats, tightly fastened up to the neck. I was apparently going to have to wait to see their definitions of ‘sexy,’ but I had a feeling it would be worth it; Julia had pulled her auburn tresses into a French plat and replaced her usual glasses with deep blue contacts, while Aless had tied her hair into two long schoolgirl pigtails.

A smart, discreetly dressed driver stood on the doorstep and he quickly ushered us to a silver Mercedes MPV with blacked-out windows that was parked on the kerb. Inside the seats were plush leather and there was a small bar. “Please help yourself to whatever you’d like,” he said as we pulled into evening traffic and headed towards Soho.

Julia leaned over. “I forgot to mention, I said we’d see a couple of my friends for dinner tomorrow, I hope you don’t mind.” I said I didn’t – at that moment Julia could have said she’d pledged my organs to medical research and I wouldn’t have objected. My excitement and curiosity were building steadily as we turned into Brewer Street in the heart of Soho. Sex shops and peepshows lined the road.

The vehicle turned down a narrow alley, so much so that the walls almost scraped the sides of the car. Our driver navigated through the narrow space with practiced ease, pulling up alongside a large sliding metal door. There were no markings anywhere on or around the door to indicate where we were going. Aless whispered to me, “this is exciting!”

The driver flicked a switch and the van’s door slid open, and at the exact same moment the steel shutter rolled aside to reveal a plush room and several large security guards in smart suits. We stepped easily from the van into the room (with a respectful “enjoy your evening” from our driver) and were ushered down a long, softly carpeted stairway. At the bottom we entered what looked like the foyer of a nightclub, with a coat check area and a reception desk. The attractive middle-aged woman behind the desk smiled at us.

“This is your first time here,” she observed. “I know all of our members by sight, so you must be the gentleman I spoke to the other morning. Mr. Wright, is that correct?”

“It is,” I replied, smiling.

“Very well, there are certain things I have to tell you before you go in. First, please give your coats to Anjali,” she indicated to a young Indian girl who had walked around from behind the coat check desk. She was naked except for patent leather ballet-style strappy shoes with large, 8″ stiletto heels that forced her to stand permanently on the ends of her toes. Her only other decoration was two large, screw-type nipple clamps that had been fastened tightly and further secured with black twine. Each clamp had a brass coat hook attached to it. The girl also had her hands and elbows bound tightly behind her, forcing her small breasts to jut out obscenely. “Oohhhh,” moaned Julia, “I love it here already.”

Julia and Aless now removed their coats, allowing me to see their outfits for the first time. Julia had chosen an ankle-length black silk gown that was effectively just lingerie. A series of thin straps passed over her shoulders and criss-crossed down the sides, which were otherwise open to reveal inches of her mouth-watering flesh. At the rear, the straps passed over the delicious curve of Julia’s back and met at the edges of another section of material that began just above the swell of her ass. Not that the material helped conceal anything; it was almost completely transparent and left her nipples and pubic mound entirely visible. She was also wearing patent leather shoes with chrome spiked heels, tied with long ribbons that wrapped around her calves up to the knee.

Aless had taken a different, but no less sexy approach. Her coat came off to expose thigh-length platform boots made of stretchy, skin-tight black velvet, which hugged the delectable curves of her legs like stockings. She’d topped this off with a short, pleated schoolgirl skirt and blouse. This had been doctored, the bottom half cut off and the buttons removed so that it tied – barely – over her breasts. The outfit, combined with her pigtailed hair, was sheer slutty perfection. She told me afterwards that the shirt and blouse were genuinely her old school uniform, and she’d kept them when they no longer fit because she’d fantasised about being fucked in them. Tonight she was going to get her wish, and then some. Like her mother Aless had gone without underwear, and though the skirt just about covered her pussy she had already reached down with one hand to begin stroking her exposed clit.

With her other hand she reached out her coat and tentatively hung it on the Indian girl’s left breast. The young woman gasped with sudden pain, but quickly recovered and murmured a thank you. Julia on the other hand was not so gentle. She firmly placed her coat on the right hook and yanked it down hard. The girl gave a soft yelp.

The woman behind the reception desk smiled. “Anjali is not permitted to cry out when taking coats, and now she will have to be punished. For each scream she will be sodomised by one of our security guards. They are quite rough.”

“Really?” smiled Julia nastily. Realising what was going to happen the girl tried to step away, but her fetish shoes prevented her from moving quickly. It was too late; Julia had a hook in each hand and was yanking on them without mercy. She wasn’t satisfied until the girl had reluctantly been forced to scream a further four times.

The woman behind the desk laughed. “I can see you’ll fit in well here. Now, the rules,” she began as the Indian girl dejectedly returned to the coat check area, where a grinning security guard took the coats and hung them up on a rail. “This is ostensibly a lap dancing club, but it’s unlike any other. All of your dances and refreshments are covered by the membership fee, which applies to all three of you. However if a girl particularly pleases you, we ask that you give a tip in accordance with what you think she is worth. This way our girls try much harder to please you.”

“Unlike any other lap dancing venue we encourage patrons to touch our girls, in fact we demand it. They are here for your pleasure, and will not refuse anything you ask of them short of actual physical harm. Some of them may act as if they are unwilling and beg you to stop. Do not; this is a special service we provide for patrons who enjoy fantasies of reluctance. If we feel you are being too rough, one of the security personnel will inform you. This has only happened twice in the club’s history, so don’t concern yourself with it too much.”

She reached beneath the counter and pulled out two rhinestone-studded dog collars with leashes attached. “This is most important. You ladies must wear these at all times, to signify you are guests of a club member. All of our patrons know that a collar places you off-limits to anyone but the person you are with. If you remove the collar for any reason, you become fair game and will be expected to service our customers like any other girl. You may not refuse a patron’s instructions if you are not wearing a collar; if you do they will simply assume you are one of our non-consent role playing girls and rape you anyway.”

She looked Julia in the eye, then Aless. “Whether you remove the collars is up to you. On any given night about a quarter of the girls are guests who enjoy being taken by our patrons. They receive no payment from the club but may keep any tips given to them.”

Julia fixed her own collar in place, then helped Aless into hers. I took the handles of both leashes in one hand. The woman smiled at us. “The festivities begin in approximately ten minutes with a stage show, then the girls will join you and after that pretty much anything goes. Enjoy your evening.”

I thanked her and turned to my ‘guests,’ who were waiting dutifully behind me. “Are you bitches ready?” I asked. They nodded. With that we walked through the double doors, held open for us by two more burly guards, and stepped into the club.

Inside it was large and extremely luxurious, with deep, curved couches in booths surrounding low tables. It was lit dimly but adequately by discreet spotlights and candles, and was built on several levels, with short, wide staircases leading from floor to floor. In the centre between all the levels was a large stage, with two long metal poles towards the middle. Unlike the ones found in most pole dancing venues however, these had rings set into the metal with a variety of restraints, clamps and cuffs hanging from them.

We took a leisurely walk around the various levels, to all eyes looking like nothing more than a guy and his companions deciding what would be a good vantage point from which to see the show. In this way the three of us expertly placed cameras (the new prototypes I’d been developing – like Carstairs said field-testing is very important) and microphones all over the club. We had placed about 30 bugs before we ‘decided’ on a free booth in the entrance level with a good view of the stage. I looked around and saw that the place was fairly full, and maybe a third of the well-dressed men were accompanied by women wearing collars. The women varied in age, race and body type but all of them were beautiful. One girl, with the almost ebony-coloured skin of a pure African, apparently couldn’t wait; she had removed her collar and was currently on all fours, being spit-roasted between two elderly but spry-looking white gentlemen.

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