I met my wife twelve years ago. I was single, on my own in London and just a bit lonely. This was Thatcher’s Britain and work where I came from, Doncaster, was just a fond memory.
So I packed a case and got on the train. At one of the stops, a guy got off and left his paper. A London Evening Standard, or, “The Jackers Journal”, as I came to know it over the next two years. This is due to the columns and columns of jobs advertised. I’m a plumber by trade but can put my hand to just about anything. I’d ringed we’ll over a dozen jobs by the time the train pulled into Kings Cross.
I started work on a site in Camden two days later. I could not believe my luck. Fifty quid a day, an absolute fortune by my standards back in 85. After the first fortnight, I paid my dad the 200 quid he had loaned me to come south looking for work.
I had a couple of rooms in Peckham, they were the attic rooms of a house owned by Ivy, an old black lady. She was as good as gold with me and let me keep the old banger of a van I bought in the garage downstairs. That kept my tools safe and therefore kept me in work.
Sally worked behind the bar in a pub called the Shergar named after the Irish horse that was kidnapped around this time.
We didn’t work on Friday afternoons. “POETS DAY”, Piss Off Early, Tomorows Saturday! and as it was my local and I fancied a pint. When I went in Sally was sitting at the bar, customer side, I bought her a pint. She is still a pint of bitter sort of a girl.
We had a few beers and talked a bit more than usual and six hours later I bought her a curry at The Temple, a curry house in Camberwell. We went back to her place where I learned never to go down on a woman after eating a vindaloo.
About 3 months later her flatmate moved out and I moved in with her. Sex was good but nothing out of the ordinary, which was a bit of a disappointment as my tastes are a little out of the ordinary. I was in love though and she wanted me to take the lead in bed. I wasn’t going to fuck it up by asking her to spank me and not be the macho man she wanted.
In the meantime, at work, I’d now discovered plumbers in London made a small fortune on site. There was more development work than you could shake a stick at. Every night when I got home Sal had taken another call asking me to do a job.
About this time I bumped into a big African guy called Albert. He was a painter and decorator but had contacts and was beginning to put together a team of good lads who could build you a palace if you put the right money up.
I’d done a few jobs for him, not only did he always come up with the agreed cash, there was nearly always a “Brown Paper Envelope” after. I was working for him when I first made a thousand pounds in a week. This was the era Tuzla Escort when Harry Enfield was riding high with the “loadsamoney” character.
Sal and I went to Paris for a week’s Holiday. I’d bought her a couple of sets of mucky underwear and a couple of pairs of stilettos she wore once or twice. We took a taxi to La Rue Saint-Denis and we had our heads turned.
I bought her a proper full-blown corset and an ankle-length shiny rubberised trenchcoat to wear with it. She called it her French Whore’s mack. What with the corset, the mack and a pair of thigh-length boots with what she described then as “mad” heels? I had a hard-on for the next three days.
Luckily she hadn’t figured out the exchange rates or she would have put them back on the hangers. I still had to make the going in bed but she looked tremendous in this sort of gear. She ain’t skinny and has a pound or two too much on her by some people’s standards but she is perfect in my eyes.
It was a good job we went on the train and ferry, I had to buy two more suitcases to get her new wardrobe home.
We had been home minutes when I went to answer the door and found Albert there. He came in and over coffee told me he had a job but it was a bit secret. He wanted me to go with him there and then to look at a job his friend wanted doing urgently.
He was very unforthcoming in front of Sal but she just laughed and said to me you better go, I may get another corset and coat out of this.
As the crow flies it’s only 4 miles from Camberwell to Mile End but it takes forever to get there. You have to cross the river for a start. Albert was a bit noncommittal on the journey over there. When we got there and got inside the place it was already obvious why.
They were building a dungeon! There was already some serious pain-giving gear there and what looked to me like some expensive fetish artwork on the walls. It took a good ten minutes for the penny to drop with me there were no women in the pictures, nothing female at all.
I was beginning to get a little apprehensive. I knew with some certainty Albert bats on the same side as me but there were lots of village people milling about. So we went up to the office. A black guy even bigger than Albert was sitting at a desk.
He went straight to the point, I want six bathrooms, baths for two people, toilets, basins and a walk-in shower in each one.
You supply and fix, materials paid on delivery, Labour half up front half on completion less 10% retention. That is payable 60 days after each part’s completion.
I want a price, glossy pics of the gear you are proposing and an outline working plan by tomorrow evening and you start here on Monday. If you can’t, tell me now and fuck off and don’t come Gebze Escort back. Either way, you will regret it if you open your mouth. There are some very very important people involved in this project.
We left, I got the job, I made the deposit and then some on a house in a Surrey village. The place closed 5 years ago and this is the first time I’ve spoken about it to anyone other than Albert and Sal.
I got my price for the job to Albert the next day. Sal and I had worked most of the night on it. I’d talked it through with Sal, her only qualm was she was never likely to see this place. Albert has never put you on to a wrongun yet she said.
I got a call from Benny the even bigger black bloke, he said to start Monday and if my van was signed to hire a rental. They would pay for it. Long story short, the Job went well, very well,
I finished everything just over a week early. I was sitting at home when the phone went and Benny asked me to come in and see him, he had a little something for me.
“Where is you missus he said to me.”
“Outside in the car,” I mumbled. I still wasn’t sure if it was good for her to know about the place. He had a bit of a laugh at me. Pushed some of my paperwork towards me.
“That ain’t your writing, is it?”
That was pretty obvious. Sal did all my written stuff.
“You’re a good guy mate. You work well with everyone and you get your job done. If you trust her, I trust her. Go get her now and bring her in we can show her around if you think she will like the experience.”
I had been walking around this place with a hard-on for six weeks the artwork was out and out gay, but it was very BDSM and hit a lot of my very secret spots. Lots of pictures of restraint particularly cock restraint and piercings. I wish I had the nerve to have a PA but how do you explain that to the woman you want to propose to?
We were halfway around the tour when Albert came out of nowhere and said there is a problem with the shower in bathroom 4. There was no problem, some dickhead had closed a valve so the shower wouldn’t run hot. When we got back Benny had Sal back at his office. As we were about to leave he handed me the fairly inevitable brown paper envelope and an invite to the topping-out party.
“It’s this coming weekend. Come dressed to impress”, he said and handed Sal a catalogue or two. “It’s on the company, we have done well so you two get to benefit too. See if you can scrub this scruffy northern yob up a bit.”
As we got in the car Sal said, “tell me the truth, do the pictures of men tied up turn you on.”
I was gobsmacked. “Er um, err” I managed. She looked me straight in the eye and just said.
“The truth now”.
I looked at my boots and Aydınlı Escort managed a whispered “yes but, not with other men”. I almost shouted. “Only women, only you.”
“Thank god for that, I’m dripping. Take me home you need to do something with this leak before I completely ruin this leather seat.”
An hour later and miraculously without getting a speeding ticket, I was tied to the bed with a collection of our belts, old stockings and washing line, eating Sal’s juicy pussy and having my throbbing, aching cock slapped with a plastic rule.
A week later we to the party. Me dressed in a collection of straps, rings and padlocks, Sal in a brand new patent leather corset, matching six-inch stiletto heeled thigh boots a peaked cap and a bloody wicked crop. On arrival, I was immediately seized by Benny, Albert and a couple of other guys and fastened inside a bar chair. The seat fastened around my neck and seconds later Sal took her position.
I spent the next two hours eating Sal’s puss. She was in total control when I got her near she slid that delectable pussy just out of reach but she was hot, she was bubbling even when I could not touch her with my tongue the scent of her cunt was driving me wild.
There was no internet then. We needed to find things out. Benny knew everyone. He put us in touch with a guy called Hal in Sheffield. He built the things of my dreams male chastity belts. The thing of Sal’s new dreams as well for that matter.
We went up one week then again a four tonight later and I came home with one of the best chastity belts ever made and Sal came home with the keys. It took a few months before I could completely give up control, and it was hard to wear it for some jobs.
Sal soon found an answer to that, after a trip to Amsterdam specifically to see a guy called Mr Sylvester. I came home with a reverse PA a Guiche that could be locked together. They were murder, they and the little lock and chain have only ever been used when I’m very bad.
Luckily Mr Sylvester on recognising our blossoming mistress-slave relationship sold Sal two locking cock tubes. We still use them both, a spiked one and a smooth one. Both are silicone lined, this protects me from the spikes until I try to get hard if I do I immediately know which one I’m wearing.
If it’s the spikes I have to work very hard at pleasing my mistress without becoming aroused. I cannot do it on my own, the spikes are always needed to focus my concentration.
To date, Sal has 36 devices she can use on me. I am only ever out of them for my monthly orgasm if I have earned enough cum points. If I haven’t my cock gets tortured and put back into lock up. Points don’t get carried over but I have to say I usually get ridden until I beg her to stop.
We still get around quite a bit, not quite as much as we did but Sal still says it defiantly the best toy any woman who can call one her own, can have.
About six months after the gay club opened I got the call from Albert, Benny wanted to see us again.