I stood while Sa’afia knelt, as we’d said we would. I was still wearing my suit, while Sa’afia was naked, holding onto my thighs for affection and support, with her mouth on my cock, earnestly sucking. Her face rubbed on the woollen hems and zipper of my fly.

My hand rested on the back of her head, still holding her hair. That controlled her movements, though I mostly let her choose how deeply she took my cock, moment by moment, and set her own rhythm. But sometimes I pushed her head onto me, and held her until she showed discomfort, for the pleasure of making her feel compelled. 

I don’t think anyone can be truly unhappy in my situation. But I was finding it quite lonely up there. 

Sa’afia was fully engaged with my body. With my cock in her mouth, my hand on her head,  my thighs to hold and lean on, and her ass and upper thighs glowing warm with the stripes I’d given her with my belt, she was surrounded in me. I was all around her.

But Sa’afia wasn’t all around me, only my cock. She was doing her best, and she had every right to expect to be appreciated, but I wasn’t going to come.

I pulled on her hair. Sa’afia made a questioning noise. “Up. Get up, girl.” 

Sa’afia stood, and looked, questioning, in my eyes. She was wondering if she’d disappointed me. If she thought she had, she’d want to be punished. That’d be fine, and fun, usually, but there was still the problem of not wanting Ana to hear. I whispered, “I don’t want to come  too quickly, girl.” Sa’afia smiled, but only for a second. I pushed her onto her back, on the bed. She squawked, a little too audibly.

“Ah.” Part of me wanted to raise the belt, order Sa’afia to hold position, and carry on with her strapping. Sa’afia had been keen to show her marks to Ana, and Ana knew exactly how her cousin got them. Sa’afia had apparently told her in considerable detail. So she could hardly claim to be bashful now. I wanted to say something along those lines and continue Sa’afia’s leathering. It was my job to be immoveable.

Then I said, “Ah,” again. Maybe I didn’t want Ana to hear Sa’afia getting strapped, or fucked. Life with Ana was difficult enough. Worse, I didn’t know the effect it would have on the balance of power between Sa’afia and Ana. That was the sort of thing I wanted to leave alone. 

And if I continued, there was no way round it: I’d enjoy Sa’afia’s embarrassment. That meant I’d be using Ana as a participant, if indirectly, in the sex between Sa’afia and me. That seemed bad, a bad thing to do.

I pushed her head down so she looked down at her body. “You should have thought of that before. Keep still.” But I said it quietly. I gave her three more strokes, but across the backs of her thighs. They were meant to hurt, and I was sure they did, but the belt didn’t make the pistol shot sound it made when it landed on her ass.

The sound couldn’t be audible out of the room, unless Ana had her ear to the door. And Sa’afia should be able to feel that she’d been been mercilessly treated.

Sa’afia was puffing silently, with the effort of not moaning or crying out. Those stripes on her thighs had hurt her.

I put the belt to Sa’afia’s mouth. She kissed it, and glanced at me. She was happy. I said, “Now.”

Sa’afia dropped to her knees. 

Sa’afia said, “Nnnnnn,” again. Her eyes had closed and her bottom lip was between her teeth. I still had her left arm gripped above the elbow. I swung the belt down, medium hard, letting it slap diagonally down her arse. The tip slapped at her right hip, making her gasp.

It took nearly a second for her to decide that it hurt more than she’d expected.Her ass shook, like a horse trying to throw off its rider. I watched in admiration until she came back into position, thighs a little apart, ass arched up.

I spoke to her, then, in the voice that a man uses to calm a skittish horse. “Good girl. That’s good. Now hold still, darling. I’m going to hurt you.” Nobody talks to an independent woman like that, and that was one more way of emphasising that she wasn’t free. I turned the buckle over twice to shorten the length of belt, and swung it again. It smacked across her arse, but this time the tip landed flat across her right buttock. Sa’afia made a sound that was part pain, with a trace of luxury in it. This stroke had  had hurt, but in a good way. She kept still.

I applied more strokes, slowly making them harder, until I was getting raised marks with each one.

 But there was something not quite right. Sa’afia should by then be floating, riding a sea of endorphins and lust, but she looked uncomfortable. It may seem odd to worry about the comfort of a woman being thrashed with a length of thick leather. But she should have been calm and happy with the pain I was giving her, and just then she wasn’t. I stopped. Sa’afia swallowed. “Jaime. Jaime?”

I took a step forward so my body touched hers, and held her hip and thigh against my legs. “You okay, love? What’s the matter?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry, sir. I can’t. It’s loud. Your belt. It’s so loud. I don’t want Ana to hear.”

Sa’afia smiled. “Should I say, ‘yes, sir’?”

I smacked her again. “You should do as you’re told. And shut up.”

Sa’afia looked down and touched the bed, ready to lower herself to the floor, but I grabbed a handful of her hair. “No. Too late for that.” 

Ahsoka Tano as slavegirl. Like DC’s Harley Quinn, Ahsoka Tano escaped from corporate ownership, and now leads a complex, internet-based sex life..

I remembered her reaction, last night, when I’d pushed her mouth onto my cock after I’d placed a fresh set of stripes across her lower buttocks. She’d closed her eyes and focussed on something inside herself while she sucked me. It seemed that pleasuring me while her ass burned was exciting. She could think of herself as a slave princess, or something else she wanted to be.

I pulled Sa’afia’s head up and back, so she looked into my eyes, and held her gaze while I took off my belt. It slithered, rustling, the sound rising abruptly as the belt pulled free. Her mouth fell open. I whispered, “You recognise me taking my belt off. You know it just from the sound.”

Sa’afia said “Nnnnn.” She would have nodded if I’d let her move. She was breathing hard. I took the belt in my right hand, by the buckle. I didn’t double it. I held Sa’afia’s arm while I pushed her forward, so she couldn’t quite fall forward over the bed. She bent forward and held her hands up and out, with her elbows close to her sides.

There was something immensely feminine, though not graceful, about the pose. My heart thumped suddenly, as though it had missed a step. For reasons I’ve explained before, I said, “You’re lovely.”

Sa’afia put her hands on her head when I opened the door. She did it quickly, startled and vaguely guilty, though I hadn’t told her to have her hands on her head. I stopped and looked at her. Sa’afia was silent. She didn’t turn her head, but goosebumps appeared on her shoulders and upper arms. There were indeed bruises on her ass, from last night’s sex.

With the bed-making and the dodging of Ana, I must have kept her waiting  for nearly half an hour. Sa’afia had been patient. I wanted to apologise and explain the delay. But the best way to show my desire for her was to demonstrate it, not speak it. And the apology would only make me feel better, not her.

It would define her time waiting as wasted time, which would be boring and insulting. The best thing I could do was act as if she’d been set a trial, a small test, and she’d passed.

Or maybe it’d be more fun if she’d almost passed. There was the way she’d started when I opened the door. I walked to her and took a handful of her hair. “I saw that,” I said. “I told you to wait ready for me.” On the word “ready” I’d smacked her bottom, twice. Then, still holding my handful of her hair, I kissed her.

She said, “I could have got dressed and gone home.”

“No, you couldn’t.” More kisses. “But I’m very happy to see you.”

Sa’afia moved closer. “I’m happy to see you. But you’re overdressed.”

“I’m dressed. You’re naked. I mark you. You get marked. I stand. You kneel.”

“Mmm-hmm. Yes, I like that.”

“No, I mean you kneel. Get down on your knees. Now.”

“Yeah, they can’t control how we feel. But we can control what we do about it.” 

“But you want to fuck me, though, don’t you?” 

I sighed. “What do you think? Or are you just fishing for compliments?” 

“I think you want me. I want you. You can have me whenever you like, you know.”

“Well, that’s the thing. I can’t, not really. And right now, I need to be with Sa’afia. So you sleep, pretty Ana.”

At the door Ana called again. “Jaime?”

I turned back. Ana had pulled the sheet down. Her breasts were a little smaller than Sa’afia’s, paler brown than the rest of her skin. But they were very nicely defined. I thought of how they’d feel, in my mouth. Then, after half a second, she pulled the blankets back up and disappeared.

She lay very still and silent under the covers, legs together, arms at her sides. She’d be fighting back giggles. 

I thought of the explosion of Ana limbs and blankets there’d be, if I poked her in the tummy. I thought about the things, including the epic spanking and the long-delayed, hard but oddly loving fuck, that would follow from that. And I thought of things to say. I shook my head. No, there was nothing to be done, and nothing to say. 

I stepped into the hall, towards Sa’afia, and closed the door behind me.    

Ana patted an area of the couch. She wasn’t being flirtatious any more, or not exactly, but she was still only half-heartedly wearing my shirt, and she was distracting. I sat down, and said, “What is it, Ana?”

“I know I tease you, a lot. All the time. And you, you just do good things for me. Like today. You don’t deserve all my teasing. Do you hate me for it?” 

“God no. I couldn’t hate you for anything. Anyway, if you stopped teasing me I’d probably miss it.” 

Ana giggled and sat up a bit. The shirt opened a little, showing the undercurve of her left breast. “Would you really?” 

“All right. I wouldn’t miss it a bit.” I lied, and she knew it.

“So why won’t you fuck me?” 

“Awh.” I looked annoyed, and looked away. 

Ana said quickly, before I got up, “No, I’m not teasing. It’s a serious question. I want to know the answer.”

“Oh. Ok. First, they’d fire me. It’s totally against the rules. Second, there’s a code of ethics, and not fucking your clients is definitely on it. I signed it. It’s not like an oath, but in a way it is. I’m not going to break it.” 

“But why do they have that rule? You already care about me, more than just my being a client. You’d still care about me if you fucked me. You’d care even more.” 

“Um. I’d find it hard to put you in prison if you stopped coming to appointments. And that’s part of my job, doing things like that. And I have to be objective about what’s best for you. I can’t do that if I’m also thinking about my cock and what I want from you.” 

“But isn’t that true anyway? You already want me. And you already break the rules for me. I know it. So what difference does it make?”

We’d made the bed together. It looked comfortable to me. It was time to kiss and part. Ana stood beside the bed in a pose that reminded me of Sa’afia, waiting for me. But Ana wasn’t naked: she wore an old white shirt of mine, because she’d complained that she couldn’t sleep in her clothes, and she couldn’t sleep naked, if I wasn’t going to keep her warm.

I’d thought of some things I could say about keeping her warm, and instead pulled the shirt out of the hall cupboard, where I’d relegated it after the collar frayed. 

I know what happens when you lend an item of clothing to a woman. Or maybe it’s just me that gets my clothes stolen. Anyway, I knew Ana would never give the shirt back. It looked better on her than me, though this would be true of pretty well anything.

Ana had suddenly called me, I’d guess at the moment when she’d got her clothes off and hadn’t quite put the shirt on yet. But it’d occurred to me that she might do that, probably at the same time the idea came to her, so I’d said to the wall, “Yes?”  

Ana sounded pouty. I was supposed to turn round. “I’m not ready to just go to sleep yet.” 

“Put the shirt on. And get in bed.” After assorted rustlings and settling sounds, I’d fetched a lamp and gave her a book. I settled on The Saragoza Manuscript, because it’s too good to swap for anything else, but a bit discursive at the start, so that she’d probably drop off to sleep. 

I’d kissed her on the forehead, to show I was fond of her in a chaste, avuncular, sort of way. “We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, Ana. You should sleep soon. Goodnight.”

She was warm, and she smelled nice and she was pretty, and if I pulled the blankets back she’d be mine. I didn’t kiss her forehead again. I straightened up and said, again, “Good night.”

“Jaime? Come back. No, really, I need to ask you something. Come back, just for a second.”

I looked at the door to the hall, which led to my room, and Sa’afia waiting for me. Take that door and I’d be out of here. I turned and went back to Ana. 

Ana shifted her weight, to press herself more tightly into me. We were turning each other on. She was still my damn client, though, and I had to stop this. I gave her ass a final squeeze and a pat, that could, maybe, just maybe, to justified as an act of affection and not lust. To show there were no hard feelings. Um, to show I had nothing against her. Um. Language, eh? Sometimes it tells the truth when you don’t want to. Anyway, I patted her goodbye and broke off the cuddle. 

I looked around, trying to arrange my thoughts. “Right. There’s a couch -“

But Sa’afia moved back in and held me tight for a few seconds. She looked into my eyes, smiling. The look was affectionate, mildly amused, and possessive. We lived in a world in which jealousy didn’t have much meaning, nor was it given much force where it existed.  But she was reminding me. I might be her Sir, but that was still a way of being hers, after all. 

I kissed Sa’afia. “Bed,” I said. “Soon.” Then I remembered that life was sexier when I set the rules, and the pace. “Go to my room. Take your clothes off. Wait for me at the foot of the bed. Standing up straight. Don’t you dare get in.” 

Sa’afia smiled. “Then I’ll see you soon.” If she’d doubted that I’d be coming to her that night, she no longer had any grounds for that. She looked at Ana, then me. “Goodnight, you two.” She went to my room. 

Ana was trying not to look as though she’d been listening. I’d given my instruction to Sa’afia quietly but I had no idea how much of it she’d heard.

“Okay, Ana. It’s the wondercouch for you. I’ll get you sheets and blankets and stuff. You can stuff those cushions into pillowcases.”

I let Sa’afia and Ana in to my apartment. I locked the door and then put the chain on. I don’t usually bother but I thought Ana would like to see it done. The world was shut out so it couldn’t get in, or not without a warrant or a sledgehammer, or both.

Canova’s Three Graces

Then we formed a three-way hug. We were like those statues of the three Graces embracing and dancing, except that one of the Graces was male, and he had his hands on each of the girl Graces’ arses.

We made noises like nuzzling animals, and with that I think we became lovers, in some sense, the three of us. It was a complicated kind of love. Sa’afia wouldn’t have sex with Ana, since Ana was a cousin, and a girl. I didn’t think that Ana objected much to having sex with girls, or cousins, or girl cousins, but she wouldn’t want to do anything that Sa’afia didn’t want. 

Though I wanted both Sa’afia and Ana, I needed to not fuck Ana. Not fucking Ana was important. I’d done so many stupid things and I was hanging onto what I still tried to think of as my professional ethics, though by the skin of my teeth. I’d decided that if I got through tonight, then I’d made my stand and I’d still be more or less a professional. So far.

Ana nuzzled in closer and kissed my neck. Then she squeezed my ass. I felt my cock stretch, and harden. Then I spread the fingers of the hand I had on her ass. I was exploring, loving the curved firmness of her.

I did the same, a fair and just king, with Sa’afia. She sighed too. Both girls pressed against me, so I was in a world of breasts and bellies and thighs, and thick black hair that smelled of apple shampoo and skin that smelled of chilli and cocoanut and soap, and two beautiful faces.