Gordon Lister dragged his arms around from behind him so that he could reach into the right hand pocket of his trousers and pull the lining up with his fingers until he could grip the one-inch long key that had been there for the last three hours. He manoeuvred his index finger and thumb until the key was inserted in the lock of the handcuffs, twisted it clockwise until he heard the click which freed him, moved both hands in front of him, unfastened his other wrist and placed the key back in his right hand pocket. He then folded the handcuffs along the small chain linking them together, slid into his left hand trouser pocket, and set off on the short walk back to the street where the taxi had collected him from a little over two hours earlier.
He was utterly exhausted, and it was only remembering what had happened in Alison Kowalski’s house that gave him the strength to resist the urge to rest. He’d not known what the key was for when his mother had given it to him, only that “Janet would definitely need it”, but had worked out what it was the instant he’d been thrown the handcuffs and briefly wondered how much his mother had known about the party. He’d quickly dismissed any thoughts that she’d known Janet Osborne would invite him to be her escort, as he’d been very explicitly warned just to leave the key and return home, but he had considered the possibility that his mother knew what was planned and may even have attended something similar, before dismissing all such thoughts when the women had started to toy with him.
He couldn’t stop smiling as he walked, and gradually felt the energy return to his drained body as his pace quickened until he finally arrived at the potted plant by the front door under which the spare key was hidden. It was only when he lifted the pot and saw the key underneath that he suddenly thought about the pile of keys his mother had given to Mrs Osborne, wondered what it was they all locked or unlocked, and why Mrs Osborne had thought to ask his mother for them in the first place.
He bent down, picked up the key, stared at it, thought about the torment he’d endured for two hours, and resolved to ask those questions first thing in the morning; or at the very least, as soon as he’d decided who it was he ought to ask…
Gordon Lister unlocked Janet Osborne’s front door and walked in. He put the key on the table in the hall just as she’d told him to do, and slowly climbed the stairs to her bedroom. He stripped naked, took the handcuffs from his trouser pocket, slid under the sheets, and carefully clicked on one cuff before threading the other around the railing of a wrought iron headboard, and snapped it closed on his left wrist.
He stared up at the ceiling as an unexpected erection grew at the anticipation of what might happen when Mrs Osborne returned home: it had been thirty minutes since she’d whispered her proposal, and as he remembered every whispered word began to regret not being able to masturbate.
She’d told him that as he’d got nothing in his hands when he’d arrived at her house, the accessory his mother had sent him round with must have been the missing key to the handcuffs. After all, what else could be so urgent and yet fit in his pocket? And if she was right about that, then he must have been able to free himself at any time, and as he hadn’t, obviously he’d sacrificed himself to save her from any embarrassment.
She’d pushed him out of Alison Kowalski’s door with the instruction that if she was right, he’d be able to free himself and then do what he’d just done before she got home around midnight. She’d also told him that if she was wrong about him having a key, then she could amuse herself thinking about his predicament as he walked home, but if she was right, then she’d show her appreciation by giving him a night of sex beyond anything he could ever have imagined.
He was still staring up at the ceiling trying to imagine what Janet Osborne had in mind when he heard the front door unlock, the slight clink of keys being placed on the table in the hall, and then the barely audible sound of footsteps on the stairs.
His erection instantly grew in anticipation to the size it had been for most of the previous two hours as a leering Janet Osborne stood in the doorway slowly unfastening her black silk blouse. She placed it carefully over the back of a chair near the window, turned to face him, and even more slowly unfastened the buttons on the side of her skirt until it slipped noiselessly to the floor.
She pulled back the sheets, grinned her approval, climbed up on the bed wearing only a jet black bra and a matching pair of black silken panties, slowly lowered herself down so that she was straddling him, and gently shook his arms to confirm that he was restrained. He stared upwards at her bright blue eyes, wild with excitement, as she grabbed the headboard and writhed slowly up and down causing what was already a painful erection to drag against her underwear as it gripped against his foreskin.” Don’t speak,” she ordered, glaring down at him, “Unless it’s to moan your agreement with everything I tell you. It’s been a long time since I had a man in your position, and as the key to unlock you is downstairs on a table…”
She laughed and left the sentence unfinished as she ran her finger nails down his arms and across his chest. He groaned from a mixture of extreme pleasure and intense pain, as Janet Osborne leant forward and whispered breathlessly in his ear “And as you’ve probably been wondering, yes the handcuffs do belong to your mother, but she’d no idea what we’d got planned. She thinks we’re only interested in women, and wouldn’t have let you come round here earlier if she’d thought that I might find you appealing, especially as I spent all last weekend doing to her all the things I’m going to do you tonight.”
Gordon Lister stifled a laugh as Janet Osborne bit his ear and scratched ten exquisitely manicured nails down the insides of the thighs of her helpless sex toy. He’d learnt a lot about women that night, but the expression on the face of the woman leering down at him was something new. He didn’t know how or why, but all of sudden he became very aware that for however long Mrs Osborne intended to use him, he’d have to show her the utmost respect, no matter how amusing the memory of his mother’s explanation for coming home on Monday barely able to walk…
BreadwinningWoman 