pale flesh

It was Friday night. Flynn was assembling a steamed trout with walnut and anchovy sauce when he felt the thin arms slip round his waist.

“Hello Flynn.”

He didn’t look round at Michelle. Instead, he concentrated on what he was doing, wiping some stray drops of the copper coloured sauce from the rim of the plate.

“Aren’t you going to talk to me?”

“After last time? Not a chance.”

Flynn tried not to think of the way she’d looked against the leather of his sofa. It didn’t help. He reached for another trout.

“Don’t be so horrible, especially when I’ve come all the way down here just to see you.”

Lenny breezed into the kitchen.

“Any more fish?”

“Last two portions.”

“No more specials,” he called back into the restaurant. “I assume you know you’ve got my wife wrapped round you, Flynn.”


“Fine.” And he turned and headed back through the open door.

It was a week since she’d turned up at the flat. Flynn had got home late from the restaurant and slept through till mid morning. He still hadn’t come round properly when Michelle appeared on his doorstep with an armful of shopping bags. It was Lenny’s birthday, she announced and she wanted to show him his present. Flynn started to protest but Michelle just waved his objections aside.

“You’ve known him longer than I have”, she said, coming in without waiting to be asked. “He talks to you.”

Flynn didn’t have the strength to argue. He poured himself another coffee and sank back on the sofa. Folding her long legs under her on the rug, Michelle rummaged in her bags and took out a box. It was the size of a small shoebox and covered in a purple satin material. When he removed the lid and the fragrant tissue paper and looked inside he found himself suddenly wide awake.

“What do you think?”

It took him a moment to make sense of what lay in the box.The cuffs were padded in two different grades of leather. Black on the outside, a softer tan on the inside where they would lie against the skin. There was a collar linked to the cuffs by a strip of thicker leather.

He struggled to find something to say. “Expensive,” he managed at last.

“There were cheaper ones, all PVC and studs. Some people like that apparently, the shiny plastic. It’s the smell I think. But I thought these looked better.”

“No, no – these look fine. Just fine.”

“And they’ve got a nice smell. Try.”

Flynn inhaled the scent of soft leather. Made approving noises.

“So you think he’ll like them?”

Flynn looked at the cuffs. This was crazy. Michelle was crazy. “You don’t seriously think Lenny is going to wear these?”

She laughed. “Don’t be silly. They’re not for him. They’re for me.”

The absurd image of Lenny’s heavy frame trussed in the leather manacles and collar was abruptly succeded by another. Flynn felt a sudden lurch in the pit of his stomach. He almost missed what she said next.

“I want you to help me try them on.”

Almost. But not quite. He played for time.


“You can’t tie yourself up can you? That would be silly. Someone else has to do it.”

Flynn was beginning to wish he could start the morning again. He was having trouble keeping up. He made an effort.

“Lenny is my boss for Christ’s sake. I don’t think that makes me the best candidate for fitting you with bondage gear.”

“Nonsense. Who else is going to do it, if not his best friend?”

Best friend was pushing it a bit. Though she was right – they had known each other a long time. Whether this made tying Lenny’s girlfriend up over breakfast acceptable behaviour, he couldn’t say. But he had no time to figure it out. She had begun to unbutton her blouse.

“Michelle -”

“It’s all right – “, she said, opening the shirt to reveal a body- hugging tube of lycra that almost reached the top of her black skirt. Though she might as well not have bothered. It was tight enough to show every pore on her skin. She slipped off the blouse, scrambled to her feet and sat on the arm of the sofa. Then turned her back.

“There’s a key in the box.”

Her back was beautiful. Michelle had always seemed to him painfully thin. She had an energy that seemed to burn up the flesh on her. Flynn preferred more curves on a woman. But now, in repose, the smoothness of her skin and the angled planes of her back seemed perfect. He had to resist the temptation to reach out and touch them.

Flynn found the key and opened the necklace. She lifted her chin and let him adjust the fitting so that it lay close against her neck. All this time she hadn’t stopped talking. He felt his mouth dry at the touch of the skin on her throat as she tilted her head to accomodate the leather band. He took first one arm, then the other and folded them behind her. Then fitted her slender wrists into the manacles and clicked them shut. The strap from the neck was short and held her arms pinned high on her back.


She smiled. “No. But that’s the idea really. That you’re trapped so the other person can do what he wants. It shouldn’t be too comfortable.”

As he looked at Michelle, manacled and helpless on his sofa, the hollow feeling began to spread in his stomach. He had only to put out a hand – . But then another thought elbowed its way to the forefront of his brain. Flynn knew how hard it would be to get another job as good as the one at The Limetree. Particularly without references. Particularly with the sort of references that might get his legs broken. He wanted this over with now.

“Here – I’ll let you out.”

“Don’t be silly. He might keep me like this for hours. I want to see what it’s like.”


“It’s all right. You carry on doing whatever you were doing. I’ll tell you when to let me out.”

“Fine”, said Flynn, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine.”

Flynn went back to the table, sat down and poured himself another cup of coffee. Five minutes before, the biggest decision he faced had been whether or not to have second piece of toast. Now he had a beautiful half-naked woman tied up on his sofa. She was beautiful, he had to admit it. He had no idea why he hadn’t seen it before. Yes, she was thin, but her legs were good. Long and well-shaped, and made to look longer in the tiny black skirt. As she chatted away, perched on the arm of the sofa he could see a line of pale flesh at the top of one dark stocking. The way her arms were pinned back made her small breasts more prominent. The nipples were clearly outlined against the lycra. He’d never admired Lenny’s choice in women. Certainly not Michelle. And yet here she was in his room and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Michelle talked as easily as she breathed. Now she was telling him how she’d got the idea for the cuffs, about a film they’d seen together – she and Lenny – where a woman was stripped naked and tied up in a cellar.

“It was a club,” she said. “They kept her blindfolded and the men could go down and do whatever they wanted to her. And these society women used to draw lots to take turns. I think it was in Germany. Anyway, somewhere with subtitiles -”

Flynn wasn’t listening. His mind was racing as he considered the possibilities. One. She really had come here to find out if he thought Lenny would like his present. No. That was absurd. Two. If it wasn’t absurd and he was wrong, then surely she’d want to be let out now. Three, fuck she looked lovely. Four. He stopped at Four. Four would get him into trouble.

“Stand up”.

He hadn’t been aware he was going to speak. But Michelle broke off her rambling narrative about the film and climbed obediently to her feet. Now what? Michelle was looking at him. Why was she doing that? Why wasn’t she talking? Michelle not talking made no sense at all. He had to do something. He put down his cup and walked towards her. It still wasn’t too late. If she says something, I’ll stop, he told himself. One word and I’ll open the cuffs and send her packing. But Michelle, garrulous, animated Michelle stood looking at him and said nothing.

He needed more time. But the need to touch her was greater. “Here. Want to see what you look like?”

He took her by the shoulders and steered her across the room. Together they considered her reflection in the full-length mirror, Flynn looming at one shoulder. Flynn was studying her back again. The raised shoulder blades. Christ, he could get obsessed with these shoulders. One word. One word and he’d stop.

“Not too tight?”

She shook her head.


Again the shake of the head.

Fuck. That was it then. Flynn felt the job, the flat, his future – all of it – begin to drift off into space.

He reached out a hand and traced the outline of one shoulder blade with a finger. In the mirror Michelle was watching him intently.

“I don’t think you should be doing that.”

One word, he’d said. Well that was more than one, that was a hatful.


He lifted both hands to her shoulders. The bones under his hands felt frail as porcelain.

They looked at each other in the glass. ” I really don’t think Lenny would like this.” For a moment they stared at each other, imagining possibilities, weighing the consequences.

“Fuck Lenny.”

Michelle’s eyes were shining.

He’d done his best. More than Lenny would have done for him, he was sure of that. More than anyone had a right to ask. Of course he had. Holding her eyes in the mirror he reached forward, took the edges of the lycra top and pulled down.

Her shoulders lifted slightly as he uncovered her breasts. They were small, with dark brown nipples showing perfectly round against the olive skin. Still watching her face carefully he reached forward and cupped one breast in each hand. The nipples were already firm when he grazed them with his thumb. Again that lift of the shoulders as he worked the hardening flesh.

Holding her gaze in the mirror, he dipped his head and tasted the skin below the collar under one ear, took a fold between his teeth and bit . Michelle moaned and pushed harder against his hands.

Flynn traced the line of her shoulders once more sliding his palms down the slender arms pinned behind her. He moved lower over her hips to the black skirt.

Like the top, the short skirt was made of a stretchy material that clung to her, outlining the shape of her thighs and buttocks. He took the hem between his fingers.

“Oh, Christ, Flynn.”

Very slowly, he peeled the material back, revealing her legs and thighs, the elastic support of her stockings and the line of pale flesh against the black nylon. In the mirror the rolled top and skirt looked like more restraints imprisoning her. She was breathing harder now. Flynn’s hands were tracing the outline of her bottom through the sheer pants. Black, like her stockings, and cut high at the hip. He slipped a finger into the cleft where her buttocks began and drew them downwards. The pants came away and stuck on her thighs. He didn’t remove them. Instead his hand returned to the cleft and followed the crease once more. As he reached down her legs parted. She gasped as his finger slid into her and pressed upwards into her moist interior. As he withdrew the finger he maintained the pressure, trailing a dewey path up between her buttocks and onto her back.

As Flynn moved to the side, she leaned to kiss him. He felt her hot tongue flick into his mouth as he ran his other hand down over her belly and brushed the mound of her thatch. He could feel how wet she was. By now the other hand was retracing it’s path between her buttocks, sliding round the sweet curve of her bottom. His fingers went into her together, one from the front, one behind, met deep inside her, and began to move in a slow circular motion, like two spirals unfurling. Then, slowly, drawing his hands apart, he came out of her. As he moved upwards one finger found the bud of her clitoris, the other her anal whorl. He repeated the circular motion, changed direction, moved back down into the moist folds. Over and over. Michelle had begun to squirm under his hands, pressing her hip against him, rubbing against the erection that was straining at his jeans.

Flynn removed her pants. Then manouvered her so that she could watch him in the mirror and went down on his knees. He let his tongue trace the crease at the top of each thigh, then flicked lightly at her parting lips before letting it slide into the pink interior.

The thighs under his hands began to tremble as he worked at her with his tongue. She started making a strange bleating sound. Flynn backed off at once.

Standing up, he took her shoulders in both hands and kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth. He steered her roughly across the room and pushed her down onto the sofa. Then pulled open her legs and kneeling in front of her freed himself from his tight jeans. He lay the length of his cock along her labial folds and moved it slowly backwards and forwards in the juices that were leaking from her. At first she gasped and shivered at the touch. But soon she was writhing under him, twisting and turning, trying to increase the pressure on her clitoris, desperate for the orgasm that would bring her relief. But Flynn wouldn’t be rushed. With his hands splayed on the top of her thighs he spread her lips with his thumbs, bent and kissed her, then lodged the head of his cock where his lips had been. She pushed hard at him trying to impale herself on his length but again he moved back.

“For fuck’s sake, Flynn – do it – please!”

Again she lunged, again he moved away.

Beside the sofa was a half bottle of Famous Grouse left over from the night before. Holding her down with his palm on the flat of her belly, her lips tugging at the head of his cock, he reached for the bottle and twisted off the cap. He took a mouthful of the whisky, then siezing the rolled top drew her towards him, lifting her until she was half lying, half sitting, her face inches from his own. He brought her closer and as she opened her mouth to the kiss he drove the whisky into her throat. She hadn’t expected the fierce spurt of liquid. She spluttered and swallowed but a good deal of it spilled out and ran down her chin onto her breasts. By the time she’d recovered his lips were back and a second stream of burning liquid fired into her mouth. She was ready this time, swallowed, and came up gasping for breath.

“No Flynn – no more – please – “

Flynn fired a third mouthful of whisky between her lips, this time pulling her onto him as he did so, sliding all the way in. At once she began to come with little bleating cries. Michelle’s head went back and she arched to meet him. Flynn lowered her to the leather and massaged her glistening breasts, thrusting into her, driving her against the cushions of the backrest . He could do anything with her now. He withdrew and forced her slim legs high in the air, revealing the curve of her buttocks and the coral puckered whorl of her anus. He lodged the swollen head of his cock at the depression, wet with her juices, and eased forwards. She tightened at the touch of him. Flynn let one leg go and slid two fingers into the wet folds of her cleft and worked his thumb at her clitoris. At once she pushed onto his hand, unclenching her buttocks as she did so. He leaned into her again and felt the tip go in. He paused to smear more of her juices onto his shaft, then slid his fingers back between her lips and leaned harder. This time he went all the way into her. Her piping cries stopped and she began to make a low gutteral sound deep in her throat, as he filled her and began to move backwards and forwards. She was open now, and well lubricated and he could slide the length of him in and out with ease. Still he worked at her with his hand. Through the wall of her vagina he could feel his own flesh moving in her. Her first orgasm had been no more than a prelude to what followed, she came in a long continuous spasm that shuddered through her body. Flynn felt himself drive into her and come as he rode the waves of her climax that lifted her from the sofa.

Which was why he didn’t hear the door, or the woman come into the room.

“They work then.”

Flynn spun round. “What the ..?”

“The cuffs. They work. “

The girl was like a darker version of Michelle. All arms and legs, with a wide sensual mouth that was grinning at them. She didn’t seem the least put out by the scene in front of her. Michelle had found her voice.

“This is Jenny. I told her to come and get me if I was away too long.”

“Tea anyone?” said Jenny, rescuing the kettle from the clutter on the table and taking it to the sink.

In no time at all, Michelle was out of the cuffs, dressed and ready to go. Flynn was sitting on the floor. She dipped down to kiss him.

“Sorry, Flynn. But it’s Lenny’s really. Bye.” She paused at the door. “You won’t say anything to him about his present, will you? I want it to be a surprise.”

Back in the restaurant, Michelle had released him and was tasting his sauce with her finger.

“Haven’t you got anything better to do?”

“Not really. I’m here with Jenny. Girls night out.”

“I thought you said you came to see me.”

“That too. Someone at the gallery asked if you do weekend parties. I said I’d ask.”


“You did one a couple of weeks ago. You stayed the night.”

“Well I don’t any more.”

“Fine. I said I’d ask and I’ve asked. Here’s her number if you change your mind.” And she slipped a piece of paper into the top pocket of his whites. “By the way”, she said as she left. “You were right about the present. He loved it.”

May 2018
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