It was a friend of mine called Perdita who first introduced me to Chris. Apparently they’d been involved in some kind of a betting thing at their office and Perdita had won a lot of money. But in return she’d rashly agreed to do whatever Chris wanted her to do. She told me how he’d taken her to a photographer friend of his and done the whole porn thing with Perdita in front of a camera. She seemed to have enjoyed the experience a hell of a lot and dated Chris a few times afterwards, but they soon went their own ways. Which left Chris and I as mutual acquaintances, if not friends. He also lost no time in making it plain that he was eager to get me in the same place as he’d taken Perdita, and for the same reason. Which kind of left me stuck between two bases.
I’ve always been a boringly well behaved Catholic girl. Oh, I’ve had boyfriends and done the usual things with them, but always very discreetly. Call me a career girl who puts work before fun, dresses very quietly and leaves early from any party which looks as if it might be getting out of hand. Which is the way I am — most of the time. But I was starting to get a feeling that maybe I was missing out on a really deep and exciting part of life. The sort of excitement which sometimes made me tremble when I imagined being with Chris and being forced to make love with another man watching us do it.
Well, when somebody starts getting as curious as that about how they’d react to something, they eventually find themselves being drawn towards it. Like a fish to a lure — and Chris was just the sort of guy to keep dangling the hook in the water as long as he thought he had a chance. He knew where I had my lunch break and hung around a lot talking to me. I guess he was looking for my weak spot, and he found it.
As soon as I told him I was a one eyed Essendon supporter he began to follow up on it, offering bets on football matches and always in the same way. He wanted to bet on Essendon’s opponents and for me to back the Bombers. No money changed hands, we just let it ride until nearly the end of the season. Which wasn’t a good one for Essendon. Much as I and all the other fans barracked for them, they seemed to lose a lot of games. Maybe by only a behind or two, but enough to set the other mob singing their victory song in the showers. And as the Bombers kept bombing out the money I owed to Chris began to get serious. Which was when he offered me a forfeit or nothing deal.
“What kind of a forfeit?” I asked him and he smiled.
“You’ve talked to Perdita about me a few times. I guess you know what happened to her. So it’s the same deal for you. If the Bombers beat the Dockers, you don’t owe me a cent. If the Dockers do the Bombers you front up for a little photo session. Nothing too way out but enough to make your next visit to a the confession box more interesting than it usually is. How about it?”
What the hell, I didn’t want to pay him what I owed — it would have taken some of the jam off my budget for a while. And the Fremantle Dockers were the worse team in the AFL. There was no way they’d ever run out victors over the Bombers, not even an off form Bombers side. Not unless God himself wanted Chris to have me.
I couldn’t believe that game, not even though I was there watching it happen. Essendon played as though they’d spent all night travelling on a Greyhound bus and the Dockers … the Dockers came out of the tunnel like it was lions versus christians day at the Coliseum and they were the ones with the claws. It wasn’t even a game, more like a gangland execution. At first turn the Bombers were already fifteen points down and about as committed as Warren Beatty at a gay pride convention. At half time the Bombers coach went out with his team thirty eight points down and gave the players some emotionally charged advice. He was juggling a ball in his hands all the time he was shouting, so maybe he was making sure they realized it wasn’t round and they weren’t playing soccer. Or maybe he just wanted to show that at least one member of the squad was trying.
Me, I was wondering if Chris had somehow fixed the whole match or was just very lucky. Anyway, whatever had happened, there was no way the Dockers wouldn’t lapse back into the usual Freo Shockers after half time: they’d go into their usual slow motion mode and the Bombers big men would fly …
Ha! The Essendon attackers went after their marks like wet hens trying to fly in a thunderstorm and the Dockers came off the turf as though they’d been taking Magic Johnson pills. Three quarter time, Freo ahead by fifty four, the Bombers fans groaning in despair, and the only happy faces in the terrace were the dozen Docker barrackers who’d flown across the continent to watch this match and were beginning to think it was one of the best investments in their lives. But as happy as they were, I knew that in front of a TV screen not too far away was an even happier face — and I knew who it belonged to. And at the final siren, the Dockers winners by twelve goals and four behinds, there was no need to ask for whom the bell tolled. It tolled for me, on my mobile, with Chris’s smug tones asking when might be a convenient time for me to cover my gambling debts. Or, in this case, to get covered for them.
Which is why I was lying on a bed in a strange apartment with a strange man taking photos of me in unreal lingerie, and waiting for Chris to enter from stage right as the leading man in this little drama. I had no idea what he was going to be wearing, or not wearing, but I was slightly nervous about the whole thing. If slightly nervous is the correct way to describe a situation where I kept expecting for divine intervention to stop me committing the same sins that Adam and Eve got thrown out of paradise for. There’s no doubt about it, a Catholic education lays down strict rules on sex as fun — nun yesterday, nun today, and nun tomorrow.
“Everything cool, Tami?” Phil asked me.
He was a small, middle aged guy with oversized spectacles and a silly ponytail of gray hair hanging from underneath a balding head. But at least he seemed very professional and cool, which was a big help. He also had the sort of good taste in interior decorating which I’d never acquire in a million years.
“Yes, I think so.”
I just wished my voice sounded more confident than it did, or that I hadn’t just noticed the book I was pretending to read was upside down. It would also have helped not to hear Chris suppressing a spurt of laughter from the doorway on the other side of the room. But at least I managed to control myself enough not to look up as I felt him moving closer.
“Well, hello, Tina, fancy meeting you. Are you going to come here often?” Chris gurgled with laughter at his own wit. “You can put the book down now, I’ll keep you entertained for a while.”
He knelt down on the side of the bed and rubbed one of his palms gently against my shoulder. I felt awkward, more or less sitting on my hands and feeling about the same way as I had when I was ten and waiting to be called up on stage to get an award for regular Sunday School attendance. A sort of frozen smile of terminal shyness. And I wished I knew how I was supposed to react to the silly mask he was wearing. He might at least have warned me he was going to play dress-up as well.
“I don’t know why you’ve got that silly thing on for. The only people around here who need to hide their faces are stupid Essendon supporters like me.”
Chris laughed: “Don’t be impatient, you’ll soon meet the fate your bad judgement deserves. Let me show you something I put under the pillow as a suitable treatment for losing fans.”
He took out two rings covered in blue fur and I stared at them, wondering what they were. Until I saw the glint of the steel inside them and the chain between both of the rings and I realized they were handcuffs. Then I really began trembling.
“I don’t suppose I have to ask what you’re going to do with them?”
“No, Tami, there’s no point at all. Because I’m going to give you a little touch of a bondage experience while you’re being stripped off for the camera. Because that’s the sort of thing that happens to losers like you.”
“I didn’t lose, that useless bloody footie team did,” I snapped back. “They’re the ones who should be getting locked up.”
“Morally, you may be right, Tami. But you’re much more fun to chain to a bed, so I don’t want any more arguments. Just put your arms up beside your head and get comfortable because you’re going to be in the same position for a while.”
I still couldn’t take it on board that it was really happening, not even when the steel rings underneath the fur were snapped shut around my wrists. Only when I tried to move my arms again and found them trapped behind the bed head did it finally sink in that this was it. Bondage, restraint — call it what you liked, it meant that I was helpless to stop Chris doing whatever he wanted with me.
Phil moved closer to the bed with his camera up to his face. “Can we open things up a wee bit here?”
I didn’t know what he meant but Chris nodded. “Sure. Right, slut, open your legs and show yourself off. We want to see how fuckable you can look when you try.”
His voice suddenly sounded sharp and angry and I felt I had to obey, shyly moving my legs apart as Phil aimed his camera at the trashy tart’s knickers I’d had to put on with the lingerie.
“There’s a good little girl,” Chris said, his voice less emotional. “You just keep on doing exactly as you’re told and we’ll have a good time.”
Then he began undoing the ribbons on my top. “Time to show off your tits, Tami. Time to show them off and have them felt, and that’s what I’m going to do. I can do whatever I like with you now. All you get to do is to say ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’. And that’s what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?”
“That’s not true.”
Chris shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing: “Whatever you say, bimbo. It doesn’t make any difference now, anyway. So let’s see what we’ve got here.”
His fingers touched my bare midriff and I trembled as they slid around me and pulled at the thin nylon. It hadn’t been more than a token covering anyway but even that was gone as Chris pulled the scanty material up over my breasts and left the folds around my mouth.
“Now that’s the kind of sight that would make a nice bonus for any hard working burglar,” Chris gloated. “The lady of the house on her back on the family bed, all nicely handcuffed and tits on offer for some good hard handling.”
I trembled again as his hand gently stroked the side of my body, just below my right boob.
“What’s the matter, Tami, getting a little nervous are you? Not to worry, the next step along is easy.”
The bed creaked as he changed position and lowered his head over me. The ceiling somehow suddenly seemed a lot higher and the light brighter. It was a feeling like being in a dentist’s chair, more than a little frightened of what was going to happen and with all my attention focused on my own body and the person touching it. Whatever Phil was seeing or doing was beyond my caring about right then.
Yet Chris was right: when he put his tongue against one either of my aureoles and drew it over and around the hardening point I was feeling no pain at all. In fact I could feel myself starting to get damp straight away. Chris must have heard the deep breaths I was starting to take and took both of my nipples inside his mouth very quickly at the same time as he tweaked the top of my panties.
“These’ll soon be coming off, Tami. By and by it’ll be just your stockings left on. First things first though.”