His Mistress’s Voice Read Online Free Page A

abruptly, but more important he found it hard to wrench his thoughts back to the task in hand. The naked body of his strange new lover seemed to come between him and everything he had to do, so that he began to see everything else as something devised by a perverse reality to keep him from her.
    The weekdays stretched out endlessly before him. The time from Monday to Friday was entirely too long to contemplate as a single span of time: an eternity before he could lose himself once more in her body and their wonderful sex games. For she seemed to take a special pleasure in devising new ways for them to enjoy one another. Her willingness to dress erotically and her skilful use of the slow strip made her the fantasy goddess that inhabits the dreams of even the mildest of men. Her alternation between dominatrix and slave, and his own similar alternation, confused and delighted him at the same time. Never before had he been with a woman who tied him helplessly and then used him so thoroughly. Nor one who urged him to bind her, gag her, ravish her. She fulfilled his rape fantasies, and when she took charge of him she took all responsibility from him. When he was tied to Beth’s bed he gladly relinquished all control over his body and his actions to her. All responses were provoked by her. He had nothing to do with the process of his arousal or with his satiation. He became an instrument upon which she played, evoking some very strange harmonies and discords he had never suspected lay in him. And when it was his turn to play the master she gave herself, as completely, over to his control. Each time he saw her they did something different.
    At first he had to be shown how to pose her, how to bind her. When at length he found his own inspiration, he began to do things to her he had never dreamed possible while she urged him on to make ever greater use of her body. Her helplessness under his hands and the abandoned writhing of her body drove both of them to new heights. It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that he saw her through a haze of lust. In everything he did the image of Beth bound hand and foot and heaving under his hands as he teased her or pleasured her was before him. And he as often found himself imagining how she dealt with him. It seemed to him that he had a permanent erection. Certainly his mental erection was permanent. In the increasingly fewer calm moments he wondered at the power she exerted over him. But he never considered that they should be, or do, anything different. He was losing himself in her. The aroma of her perfume, her body, her sweat, her musk would return to haunt him at any time throughout the age-long time when he had to be away from her so that he couldn’t be sure if it was an actual smell or merely the memory of one.
    But there was one thing Tom couldn’t help noticing. As their games unfolded he found himself more often the one in charge. Beth never complained about that. In fact she seemed to become more and more the submissive partner as he assumed the active role. The change was slow, but it was there.
    One Friday, as he was preparing to leave his flat to go to her, there had been a knock at his door. Annoyed, he had gone to answer it, thinking that he would have to deal quickly with whoever it was so that he could return to that darkened bedroom which was such an important part of his world – indeed the centre of his world. When he opened the door Beth was standing in the hall. She was wearing a long coat buttoned up to the neck. Beneath the hem, which reached to her knees, Tom saw that she was wearing his very favourite pair of high heels and a pair of sheer glossy black stockings. He remembered that it had been a cool day, but certainly not cold enough to wear such a heavy coat. Before he could recover from his surprise, she said, ‘Well, aren’t you going to ask me in? A girl could get the idea that she was unwelcome standing out here. Cat got your tongue?’
    In the end he simply