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<pre>
 <br><br>
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 Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
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   A Saturday Afternoon Interview In Manhattan. 
------------------------------------------------------------------

   Sitting in the window of Southgate near Central Park looking over the
greenery and rocks of the city sanctuary; Irene seemed relaxed, sipping her
coffee and perusing the excellent menu whilst talking about the most
outrageous behaviour.  She was primly dressed in black and fur but showing
a plunging neckline and fiercely high red heels.

   She had agreed to meet me when I contacted her about her latest
undertaking, the purchase of land in upstate New York and up towards the
Hamptons on Long Island.  I really wished to inquire about her business
rather than her investments but that might have been dangerous.

   For me.

   "You have invested in land that is not zoned for building?"

   "Yes, there are a few houses and farm buildings there but nothing
significant."

   "Why in such isolated locations?"

   "For me the isolation is an asset not a disadvantage." She said, sipping
her coffee with pursed lips.

   "But you have bought for 100 Million, so investment must be uppermost in
your mind?"

   Placing down the cup delicately she traced the rim with her forefinger.
For a moment she seemed to be deeply considering her answer.  Rings on her
fingers, a flash of rainbow reflection from the diamonds.

   "Investment for me is not losing value.  That is I pursue my own goals
and interests for my own reasons.  It so happens that I have a small stake
in a business venture up in the north of Long Island and I wanted to buy
adjacent land to add value and privacy.  As for the upstate land, well,
that is a long shot, we shall see if I have judged the market right."

   I considered my options carefully.  Here I was, the bogus reporter for
an American Investment magazine, and there she was, a woman involved in
some sort of shady dealing over the last ten years.

   Why bogus?

   Because I am a private detective and I can sense these things...

   Normally I am involved in divorce and other sticky personal cases that
require tracing, patience and impersonation as well as a talent for
recording and filming.

   A woman who was trying to trace the disappearance of a friend of hers
had hired me.  God knows, normally these cases are sorted in a few hours of
searches on the web and some shoe leather being left on the sidewalk.  A
quick few hundred bucks and a days work.  This one was not working out. 
Already I was out of pocket on expenses with nothing to show the client.

   The only lead was Miss Irene Clearmont, a sexagenarian woman who was
connected to all the right people and came out of nowhere just ten years
ago.  Difficult to get to talk to, impossible to trace, money in spades and
privacy of impenetrable proportions.

   "So tell my readers about your investments in Long Island!"

   "I have part of a special farm in the north of the island.  A kind of
training institute.  We do selective breeding, training and some very
specific education.  The work is somewhat secretive because we are making
great strides and have to protect our methods."

   "This sounds interesting, can you give me any more clues about this
fascinating business." I felt myself leaning forward a little as if in
conspiratorial mode.

   Irene, on the other hand, just smiled and finished her coffee.  I felt
one of her shoes touch the inside of my thigh, a somewhat unexpected move
from this attractive but older woman.  The flat sole of her stiletto rested
between my legs and gently rubbed against my erection.

   With a smile that would have been coy in any other woman she opened her
small clutch bag and took a lipstick.  With a delicate touch she renewed
her lips in plum red before she consented to continue.

   "If you wish, you can join me there, but it may be a little
discomforting for you.  Today, before I agreed to this interview, I called
your magazine only to be informed that you are not on their books as a
reporter.  I fact it turns out that you are a private investigator and are
poking about in areas of my life that I consider to be inviolate and
untouchable."

   For a moment she smacked her lips to smooth the lipstick.  "This is not
acceptable.  I am prepared to help you if you can offer a proposition that
interests me!"

   "I am sorry to deceive you but I need to move forward on a disappearance
case that I am working on I did not mean ..."

   "To deceive me!" Irene finished my sentence and wriggled her foot in my
crotch.  "I can see three possible courses of action, each of which has
advantages and disadvantages for me, the variable being your reaction."

   By now I was feeling pretty taken by her, a raging hard on and a
mystery.

   "So what choices do you see?"

   Miss Clearmont leaned forward and I leaned also as she spoke in a
whisper.

   "Well we could go to my limousine and get fucked as we drive to see my
investments in Long Island.  I like fucking and being fucked and you do
offer some possibilities in that direction.  Second you can walk out of
here and tell your client that the pursuit of this matter, whatever it is,
is beyond your capabilities.  The third possibility is for you to be
completely open with me and tell me what you are investigating and who your
client is."

   She leant forward a little more and I felt her unzip my pants beneath
the table.  I could scarcely resist her as her hand freed my erection to
stand proud against the sole and heel of her shoe.  A slight motion of her
foot pulled my prick to attention and pressed it against the metal tip of
the stiletto.  Both her hand were again in sight but a slow rhythm had
started and already I could feel myself moving towards orgasm.

   "So what is it to be my little private dick ?" she said with a grin. 
"Sex or honour?  Because both are not available, just a choice of one."

   Her metal heel dug under my balls and pressed on the delicate join
between ass and testicles.  The sole firmly pushed and stretched me to
orgasm, a surge that erupted in the privacy under the table but was clear
to both of us.

   "Let us go to see your investments."

   "I hoped that you would see it my way.

   Sex is always the best choice where I am concerned!"





   A Long Trip -----------------

   I left the restaurant with Irene on my arm.  She called her chauffeur on
the mobile and the Mercedes pulled up at the kerb with a whisper.  I opened
the door for her and she slid into the leather cell with a practised
action. Joining her I closed the door and turned to face.

   The car pulled away from the curb with a susurration barely discernible
from the inside.  Irene opened her bag and pulled an envelope from it.  For
a moment she fumbled at the closure and then passed the photos to me.

   A large house and stables, a Ferrari parked outside.  These were the
backgrounds of the two photos.  The foreground of the one on top was a
naked woman in chains and a hood with the purple marks of a savage beating
on her breasts and thighs.  The second was a woman of generous proportions
wearing a long fur coat and holding a riding whip.  A glimpse of flesh
showed in the fur, a plump of sex and a rosette of nipple.

   "You run a brothel?" The question slipped out involuntarily, but it was
what I had been thinking of.

   Irene laughed and reached to fondle me for a moment.  "No not a brothel,
something much more interesting!"

   I must have looked a little blank as she felt that she had to elaborate.
"Sex, power and satisfaction.  We offer sex but not just for a straight
payment for service.  We train the willing and unwilling and then offer the
benefits of that indoctrination to a world wide selection of exclusive
clients to experience and enjoy in the privacy of their own surroundings."

   I could not stop her hands from slowly undoing my belt and pants.  My
mind wandered into realms of tension and pleasure.  This woman, this
sixty-year-old medusa, was forcing people into slavery, sexual slavery and
now she was fucking me.  A single one of her fingernails stroked me from
balls to the damp tip of my straining erection.

   "Do you want me to show you how it works?  How we train and force
compliance?  How the victims are defiled and degraded for the subtle but
painful wishes of out degenerate clients?  How the torture and suffering of
those we force bring pleasure as the slave is violated and punished for
uncommitted crimes?  Does this excite you?  This power to extinguish and
maim, rape and ruin?"

   "Yes." I whispered as the pleasure took control and Miss Clearmont took
charge.

   I did not feel the restraints go on my wrists and ankles, all I could
feel was the hands that made my prick strain to come a second time.  I was
so falling from a height into her skilled hands.  The soft fleeting brushes
of fur on the very tip and the firm grip on my balls.

   By the time that she had almost brought me to come I was naked and
helpless and struggling, not against the restraints, but against the
gratification of orgasm being over too soon.  God, it had to last forever
this feeling of falling, the tales of slavery and servitude.

   This second coming.

   The pleasure stopped before I came, the hands revoked their gift and the
body of my evil partner withdrew from contact.  For a moment I was just
dazed, a quivering mass of flesh, lying on soft leather and my long
discarded clothes.  Then awareness came.  Awareness of the cuffs that
encircled my ankles and the soft pocketed gloves enclosing my hands.  Both
with delicate chains leading to eyelets in the car's upholstery.  I sat up
and lifted my immobilised hands.

   "You are far too self centred to be a partner of mine!" she said.  "I
need service and attention and now I shall show you what I mean.  Still I
will show you how you can be less a selfish person and give as well as
receive."

   Still a little dazed from nearly coming I said, "You do not need to tie
me down to make love to me!" but reason and argument was not a realistic
strategy.

   Her hand moved to the centre console of the car and pressed a knob.  A
small mechanical sound and felt my legs and arms being pulled.  The chains
were being wound into the car and I was being stretched implacably across
the back seat in the process.  Irene moved to a facing seat and watched as
I was pulled and drawn out, immobilised and exposed for her complete
attention.

   She reached into a cabinet and pulled out a mask.  With me struggling
and begging she pulled it over my eyes and mouth.  A leather hood covered
my head and was laced tight to mould itself to my features.  For a moment I
struggled for air before she unplugged the brass mouth opening.  I felt her
strong hands hold my head as she screwed something else over my mouth and
into the mask.  Then a wrench and a tube penetrated my open mouth and
forced its way over my tongue.

   "Don't try to talk my bitch, that is the first lesson.  The second is to
relax and put yourself into my hands.  You are about to please me and
pleasure me.  If you do well you will be glad you did.  On the other hand I
am very demanding and a sweetheart that does not please is a lover that
regrets his stubbornness.  I need to feel real volume inside me, I need to
be fucked and penetrated and you are my ideal tool."

   As she spoke I could feel her mounting me.  At first I thought that she
was going to fuck my straining cock but then she shuffled up my prone body
and settled herself on the dildo that was my mouth's air supply.

   Every stroke was a breath to me as her sex opened and closed the air
holes running along the length of the fearsome latex device.  Grasping the
handle on the top of my mask she used me to satisfy herself.  I was nothing
more than a fuck doll, a tool for her pleasure and a thing for her grasping
cunt to control.  It decided if I could draw the very breath of life.

   As I gasped for air, she came and scored my chest to bloody ribbons with
her sharpened claws, a tiger finding heights of passion and lust as the
staked goat shudders in terminal pain.  She orgasmed not just from friction
but from the frisson of my forced service.

   "You see how you have pleased me." she whispered in my ear, "Now I will
give a little attention to you."

   I felt her hand take my straining cock.  With a slow movement she pulled
down exposing the delicate tip to the attentions of her other hand.

   "I have to decide.  Are you going to learn about my business from the
inside, as an intern, or am I going to show you my hobby from the outside
as a privileged visitor?  Let us see how you respond to my tender
lovemaking."

   I tried to resist, I really did, but the insistent rhythm of her hands
blasted all thought of resistance from my head.  For a moment she stopped,
I waited, almost unable to breathe with the sexual tension.

   When the hands returned to their work I could feel that she had turned
her rings around and now the diamonds were scratching and bruising my
tender flesh.

   The pleasure was balanced by pain, the sensuality by discomfort.

   "Is that better my little fuck-slut." I heard her giggle as I struggled
to be free of this craving, this need for pleasure as I thrust into her
hands, my hips betraying my need to come at any cost.

   "I think you are well suited to be trained my dear."

   Was it those words that found a deep recess of my consciousness?  The
thrill of giving all to this fearsome woman and falling into her power?  A
rush of stimulation overcame me and I came into her hands with a thrust of
my fettered body.  Never before had I been so high, never before had I so
needed to be controlled.

   "Soon we shall be there."

   I felt the root of the dildo being withdrawn from between my lips to
leave me gasping in a post orgasmic trauma.  A finger entered my mouth and
moved over my teeth in a casual motion.  The other hand still played with
my fading erection, cupping me and drawing me back towards sexual need and
excitement.

   "Miss, please let me be yours." I said, almost involuntarily.

   "You see!" she replied, "You just need suitable training and you will be
ripe for the taking.  Should I not be the one to do that taking?  Would it
not be better to leave this over complicated life and serve me?  Let me be
the one to take and you will give your utmost.  So simple, you just need to
surrender, I would be so delighted to have you as mine."

   Miss Clearmont had brought my injured prick once more to attention. 
Pleasure with pain.

   "If you are mine you will writhe in pain and skip with pleasure.  You
will serve whom I command and become my chattel.  At the finish you will
beg to do my bidding."

   The third time was the best and worst.  I came with a whimper of pain as
I gave my last to her probing hands.  In the darkness of the mask her voice
drove me whilst her fingers explored and penetrated.  My lips longed to
kiss her and my tongue to taste her but service was at her bidding not
mine. At that final surge of sexual bliss I gave myself to her and felt the
relief as she accepted my promise.



   The End.  The Beginning.  ------------------------------------

   That takes me to the end of the story of my only meeting with that
beguiling medusa, Miss Irene Clearmont.  But it is only the start of my
remote servitude to her.

   Toiling to be perfect in the hope that she notices and gets some slight
word of my good conduct but I am beneath her notice.  I know that now my
training is fully complete in her institute of subjugation, I will be sold.


   The money that I make her will purchase a fur coat or a diamond ring a
small thing that gives her a moment of pleasure, but she will have long
forgotten me as I go the highest bidder, to perpetual slavery.

   Do I regret that flaw in my character?  That defect that made me throw
my life to the wind?  No, it was worth the deep pleasure of capitulation
because no matter who buys me and uses me I am hers forever.





  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------- The End.

   Copyright Miss Irene Clearmont 2011(Oct)

   More of Miss Irene Clearmont's WWW writing can be found at:
http://www.missireneclearmont.com

   contact me at: Irene@missireneclearmont.com Most E Mails get a reply.
   
