Agony Aunt by G. C. Scott Page A

was there, writhing on the bed and tugging madly at her straitjacket. She appeared to be trying to fling herself in all directions, with only the leather garment restraining her frenzied movements. Her cries were more audible in the next room. Harriet liked the demonstrative ones better. It was easier to see when they passed the point of no return. This time Harriet had a double reward. She could see the surprise and the pleasure on Rachel’s face as she came. It looked as if Rachel’s reward was more than double. Three or fourfold would have been more accurate. Good for her, Harriet silently applauded.
    When the storm passed, Rachel’s face was damp with sweat. Her hair clung to her forehead and her eyes were closed. Harriet could see her panting as she caught her breath. She shuddered several times – maybe small climaxes after the greater ones; maybe simply muscular spasms. Finally she lay still.
    Rachel’s next act was to roll herself over on to her side again. Apparently that was a more comfortable position in which to recover her poise and her breath. Her back was to Harriet now, but that didn’t matter. Rachel had clearly enjoyed her first bondage session, and could safely be left to her own devices for a while. Given enough time, she would probably repeat the earlier performance. It would be interesting to question Rachel later to see how well she had managed. Harriet went quietly downstairs. This time she actually left the house, locking the place up carefully as was her wont. Dominatrixes, she told herself, had to be security conscious. And she was required elsewhere.
    Harriet was a bit late for her luncheon appointment, but that would only help keep Victoria on edge – a useful position in her case as well. ‘You can set your clock by Harriet,’ one of her regulars had said. Well, this time the clocks would be slow, but Harriet thought it had been worth the delay.
    Victoria, with whom she was having lunch, was currently going through one of her ‘I’m too fat’ phases, though she was not a victim of what had recently been called the ‘Barbie doll disease’. She used the phrase to signal that she was in the mood for some minor deprivation combined with erotic bondage. Usually her husband Bill dealt with her. At other times she – or he – called Harriet in. That usually occurred when Bill was away on business, or when Victoria was in the mood for lesbian sex, also supplied by Harriet when needed. ‘You’re the spice of my sex life,’ she often said when Harriet called on her.
    Victoria was already seated when Harriet arrived at the restaurant. She didn’t look like a woman in need of a diet. She never did. It was just that time of the month for her when she needed to be tied up and dictated to. She had chosen a corner table where they wouldn’t easily be overheard as they spoke of what she and Harriet would do with the rest of the afternoon. Victoria liked to talk herself through what Harriet would do to her. She liked the excitement of ‘talking dirty’, as she called it derisively. The more public the place the better. Victoria said it improved her self-control to try not to let her arousal show to those about them. She had been known to squirm on her chair as they went through the schedule in advance, and Harriet tried to make it more fun by eliciting suggestions from Victoria as well, though she never let the other woman think that she was in charge. They both wanted Harriet to be in command.
    Victoria was drinking white wine, and there was a nearly full bottle on the table. The two women greeted each other and Harriet sat down. Victoria asked her what she wanted to drink and signalled to the waiter.
    ‘I’ll have what you’re having,’ Harriet said. The waiter brought a glass for her and Victoria poured the wine. As she moved to refill her own glass Harriet abruptly held her hand over the top of it. Victoria looked up in surprise. ‘Might as well get this afternoon started on the