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I was seriously bored. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my wife, Sarah, and being her little housewife was an erotic treat. I loved outfits with short skirts and briefer briefs, and the hot sex was wonderful. I enjoyed the writing, and the Agent liked the historical novel series I was producing; but I was bored. I blamed the Government.
Six months earlier, the Department announced that AUNTIE, the anti-sex trafficking agency I worked for, was being axed as part of ‘the cuts.’ I guess when push came to shove, they did not really care about women being trafficked, just as long as they could spend money on a Brexit no one but a pile of idiots wanted. So I found myself unemployed for the first time in my adult life. My darling friend and former lover, Emm, disgusted by the turn of events, went back to her life as a pampered, sexually-depraved slut with Ekaterina in the Crimea. From her messages, she was getting what she wanted; but I was bored.
Money was not the problem. Sarah was well paid by the BBC, and my last job for Ekaterina had earned me enough money never to work again. I was enjoying the course which the Government had paid for as part of my redundancy. I had everything a woman could need – except for the fact the that Othello’s occupation was gone.
Then came a text from Angie Sinn.
‘In town, at the Savoy, tea at three, be there or square, mwah.’
Well, it was only one o’clock, and the afternoon stretched out like a desert – how much baking could one woman do in a week? Even the local church was beginning to wonder how to shift the mountain of cakes I produced, so I had started talking with the Synagogue and food banks, too. Perhaps this would slow me down?
Angie was the epitome of cool and class.
Emm and I had met her when we worked for AUNTIE. She was with some CIA type agency. Tall, blonde and well-stacked, she reminded me of Sharon Stone in ‘Basic Instinct,’ although I was pretty sure she would not have crossed her legs so quickly. Emm, a good judge of these things, had once described her as ‘sex on legs.’
And what legs, I thought, as I walked through the lobby at the Savoy. She looked as though she was wearing silk stockings, her Versace skirt had ridden up to reveal the slightest hint of stocking top, and her scoop-necked top was displaying her other assets to great advantage. It was so good to see her again, and her eyes lit up when she saw me.
‘Pixlet,’ she drawled in her sexy, slightly throaty way, ‘you’re a sight for sore eyes – not to mention sore pussies.’
I giggled. Only Angie could get away with that
‘Tea is ordered, though God knows I could use a martini; you having one, Pix? Okay, I’ll have yours too.’
I confined myself to tea and scones, and by the time they arrived, Angie was finishing the second cocktail.
As Angie gave orders for a third to the waitress (she was good at ordering), I reflected on how beautiful she was. Her high cheek-bones could have cut paper, and her eyes were an attractive brown/green mix, perfectly made up, the eye-liner just right. She had the cutest nose and kissable lips. And I was a married woman and quickly began to consider what to put on my scone.
‘Hey gorgeous, you look good. Like the plaits, good to hold when riding you!’
‘Angie!’ I blushed. ‘I’m a married woman now.’
‘Cool it, Pixlet, just teasing, though mind you, your Sarah is hot stuff too, would she be up for a threesome later?’
‘You are a tease, Angie!’
‘Who poker oyna said I was teasing on that last one, Hun?’
I loved her laugh. She checked her phone.
‘Mind if we are joined by others, Pixlet? Hotel room available after if you like the woman.’
By now I had given up guessing when she was teasing, and simply said it sounded good, but added that I had a meal to cook for my wife.’
‘She’s a lucky girl to have you Pixlet, if she ever gets tired of you let me know, I’ll take you in.’
I couldn’t help but giggle, she had a way of saying the most outrageous things as though she was just passing the time of day.
‘Okay, Pixlet, before they get here, this is not just pure, or impure, pleasure. Are those stockings? Yummy little legs you have. I’ve set up an agency, and was wondering if you’d like to join?’
‘An Escort Agency? You think there is a perve niche market for flat-chested midgets?’
We both giggled.
‘If there was, you would be top of my list of sexy dwarfs, but no, this is a detective agency, the Sinn Girls. Been running it for five months now, and cornering the market in discreet investigations into the world of sexual depravity. You’d be amazed, or not, at the number of guys who are, and here tick one or more boxes: being blackmailed; worried about their wives/girlfriends/daughters; or involved in stuff they don’t want any of that group to know about. There’s a surprising number of chicklets too. You in?’
‘Into what, Angie? My own sex life is blamelessly monogamous, I adore Sarah.’
‘Yeah, I know, shame, I’d like to bend you over that sofa, flip your skirt up and fuck you like a whore, but I guess not? No, silly, would you like to work with me and my associates?’
I looked at her. My mind was still processing the thought of her taking me like that, so it took a few moments to digest that she was offering me a job.
‘What would I have to do?’ I asked.
‘As you were told, Pixlet, ‘but then you are,’ she drawled, ‘good at that, aren’t you, honey?’
Oh God, the way she looked at me. I blushed.
‘Not bad, Miss Sinn.’
‘Good girl,’ she grinned, ‘so you are in; terms and conditions to follow. I need someone to organise things at base here, I’ve got a doll called Mel does things for me in the States, but could do with someone this side of the Pond. As it happens I could do with your help now. Ah, hi, Annie, meet Pixie.’
Annie, who had come in behind me, was an attractive, young blonde woman, medium height, sun-tanned and fit.
‘Hi, Pixie,’ she said, with a distinct Australian accent and a firm handshake. ‘Angie has told me so much about you – hope it’s all true and not just her usual crap,’ she said, smiling at Angie and winking.
Two of them, I thought, that’s all a bored housewife needs.
‘What’s up boss?’ She said to Angie.
‘Sir Adrian will join us in a few moments, then we can concert action. An hour should be enough time for the plan to work.’
I was obviously sitting in the wrong place, as, a few moments later, we were joined by a distinguished looking older man, balding, but with a trimmed beard and twinkling eyes.
‘Pixie, this is Sir Adrian Plomb, he’s our client. Sir Adrian, this is Pixie, and forget it, she’s as gay as the gay Gordons.’
‘Why, Angie,’ he smiled, his eyes flashing with mischief, ‘as though such an idea would occur to me. You know I respect that sexuality, indeed, I have some of the lesbian in my myself.’
‘And canlı poker oyna there was me thinking you wanted part of yourself in the lesbian, gee whiz!’
As ice-breakers go, it went well.
Angie asked Adrian to tell me what the case was.
It transpired that one of his lovers, Sherry, had vanished. She had last been seen at a sex party they had both attended, and while he had been busy attending to other needs, leaving her shackled, Sherry had disappeared. She’d last been seen with a big black man who he had been able to identify, but he denied all knowledge of her, and she had not been in touch for two days now. He could hardly go to the police, given his position and where he had lost Sherry, so he had, as Angie put it, ‘turned to Sinn.’
Sir Adrian looked pensive.
‘It is not like her. I have been to her apartment, and all her clothes are there. She seems to have vanished without trace.’
‘Okay,’ I said, ‘you said she vanished, but where from? These things usually have themed rooms.’
‘Ah, I see you are an habitué, my dear,’ he added, mock-gravely.
I liked him. He was clearly good company, and one could see why women would be attractive to him. He seemed attentive and funny in the right way. I liked his maroon jacket and quiet sense of humour.
‘She had gone to the bondage room. I left her shackled while I answered a call of nature. When I got back the shackles were there, but she was not.’
‘Well,’ I said to Angie, ‘that would explain how she was smuggled out with no noise. I take it,’ I said, turning to Adrian, ‘that she liked being tied up?’
‘And gagged, by several means,’ he laughed.
‘We have an agent in undercover,’ Annie chipped in.
‘Yes, we know who runs the biggest bondage operation in this part of London, and our agent went in, undercover, about an hour ago. Adrian and I are on our way to check up on her, Annie will be back to our office, but if you want to come Pixlet?’
So it was that I found myself with Angie and Adrian in a cab, bound for Soho.
‘I sent in my other associate, Monica, posing as a woman who likes BSDM, well, actually, strike that, she doesn’t need to pose. The Dungeon charges people to observe her punishment, and they should be about ready. Adrian is going to pose as a possible client for her services – hard though that will be, eh?’
‘Oh yes, Miss Sinn,’ he smiled, ‘and it isn’t the only hard thing either.’
‘Down, Rover,’ she grinned, ‘remember, we have a virgin in the cab.’
‘That must be Miss Pixie, as I can’t imagine yours lasted beyond the first man to realise you were a sex bomb.’
‘Too kind, Adrian, too kind – and yes, you are right.’
‘Get a room, you two,’ I yelled.
‘That’s precisely what we’re doing Pixlet,’ she laughed, causing Adrian to laugh with her.
The Dungeon was accessed via a discreet entrance in Greek Street.
We went down some steep stairs, and into a dimly lit room.
Angie immediately attracted attention.
‘My client here, Sir Adrian, is interested in any sub sluts you might have to show us. We will pay for a private viewing, of course, and if he is satisfied, there will be repeat business. Am I clear? By the way, the name is Miss Sinn, Sinn by name, Sinn by nature.’
With that we were shown into a private room. The blind was lifted, and there, in the middle of the room, naked, her hands strung up by chains to the ceiling, legs parted, and clearly wet, was internet casino a small, dark haired woman with smallish breasts with engorged red nipples clamped firmly. A woman clad in latex was whipping her, and she was moaning with pleasure.
‘Say hello to Monica, Pixlet, oh, and stop drooling.’
Monica looked over toward us, just as a fresh strike hit her arse; she jerked forward, moaning loudly. This went on for another five minutes, with Monica getting more and more aroused. The Domina was extremely skilled at her task, giving the helpless Monica what she craved, but without the pain getting to the point where it cancelled out the pleasure.
I couldn’t see clearly in the gloom, but it seemed as though Sir Adrian was enjoying the show.
At that point the man we had talked to came in.
‘Well?’ He looked at Angie.
We shall buy the next two hours, which is, I think, all the time she has left, if I understand your pricing policy. By the way, if you know of any ladies who might be on offer, on the market, so to speak, do let me know, here’s my card. Sir Adrian is always in the market – and he pays well for good service. Let the little whore have any numbers, as we shall be hiring her privately later.’
She winked, flashing her assets as she grabbed her business card from her bra.
‘Yes, Miss Sinn, of course Miss, glad to do business with a lady of your quality!’
The Goon was too fascinated by the view to spot that I had planted a bug on his jacket when she placed the card in his pocket.
We were allowed into the room.
‘Ma’am, I hope I can, oh, oh, be of service,’ Monica groaned as the nipple clamps pinched.
‘I am sure you can my poppet. When we have finished with you, the Goon will give you some names, bring them to me.’
‘Now, Sir Adrian, if you will take a seat, I will attend to this little whore. You are a whore, aren’t you, girl?’
With that, I helped Angie off with her Versace jacket and skirt, revealing her black, seamed silk stockings, black lace garter-belt, with matching thong and balcony bra. I could see Sir Adrian was pleased; that was the thing with men, there was no doubt about the nature of their reaction.
Handing Angie, the cat o’nine tails, she began working on Monica’s helpless body. As she got closer to orgasm, Angie turned her attention to Sir Adrian.
‘I know you want her, but you are not going to get her, but you are allowed to play with yourself while I use this tart – just don’t let Pixlet see you.’
Angie was enjoying herself hugely. When Emm and I had known her at AUNTIE, she had been going through a phase of wanting to be used, but it seemed now that Miss Sinn was back in business. She made the professional Domina look like an amateur, teasing all of Monica’s erogenous zones, while bringing Sir Adrian to the brink of orgasm. In the end, she had them both coming simultaneously, that last whip flick to his groin finishing off Sir Adrian’s valiant attempt at resistance. The Sinn supremacy was established.
Angie left Monica an exhausted, limp, wet wreck, dangling from her chains, whimpering happily after her third successive orgasm. Sir Adrian discreetly shot his load, out of my line of vision, fortunately.
I put away the impedimenta, and helped Angie dress.
‘You make such a good maid, Pixlet, I am sure that we can find something in your size.’
‘I should be happy to help choose an appropriate outfit,’ Sir Adrian proffered helpfully.
‘Get that room, the pair of you,’ I giggled, ‘but not one with me in it.’
I paid the Goon, and we went back out into the early spring evening, Sir Adrian and Angie arm-in-arm.
And that was how I joined the Sinn girls.
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