The Special Visit

     After a brief peck on her husband's cheek and a hearty 'cheerio', Penny closed the front door to their semi-detached suburban home. Her heels clicked as she trotted down the garden path to the silver Astra parked on the drive. Adam had played it cool in his goodbye. He had to treat this goodbye just like any other. He had to avoid suspicion. Standing away from the window, careful not to be seen, he watched as her car reversed into the road before driving off. It disappeared around the corner. This was the 2nd time Penny had gone away this month, something to do with work. Most importantly, she wouldn't be back for a further 3 more days.

    Normally, after tidying away the breakfast things and loading the dishwasher, Adam would slip on his jacket and also head off to work himself. Today was different however. Penny didn't know it but Adam had made other plans. It was something Adam had wanted to do for several years, almost for as long as he'd known his wife. The 'something' had to put it to rest, to get it out of his system, once and for all.

    After learning when Penny was going away, Adam had secretly booked those same days off from his work. The local library, where he was in charge of putting books back on shelves, would have to do without him for change.

    The tiniest twinge of guilt hit Adam as he re-read the address he was heading to. Putting it to memory he then ripped up the piece of paper and flushed it down the loo. Important not to leave any trace, not only had he disposed of all paperwork, he'd deleted his emails and computer search history too. Everything he needed to know, was all now inside his head.

    Finding his sports holdall, he emptied out his badminton kit and packed his two favourite pairs of underpants, plus a couple of pairs of clean socks. The other things he was going to need, he planned to get on the way there. Checking his mobile phone was turned off, he put it on shelf where it usually lived. He didn't need it today. His house keys and the £300 in cash (money he'd accumulated over several months to avoid any questions), were all he needed. Satisfied everything was in order, he too, then closed the front door.

    The railway station was a 20 minutes walk. It was too risky to take his car because knowing his luck, he'd have probably got a parking ticket or a tug from the law for speeding. Any incident like that would be impossible to explain away to Penny. She's way too sharp to be fooled. Catching a train is a much better option. After buying a return ticket to Havant, he double-checked the platform and arrival times, then found a bench on which to wait. Another twinge of guilt hit him somewhere deep in his gut. He ignored it as best he could. Penny would be devastated if she found out what he was about to do. He loved her dearly. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her, but Adam had to scratch the itch. It had been troubling him for so long.

    It's only by luck that Adam started seeing, then marrying Penny. He'd also had eyes for Jennifer, Penelope's equally pretty, younger sister.

    Years ago, just out of university, Adam went to a party. It wasn't till he arrived, that he learned it was supposed to be fancy dress. A man on the door, who was dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow (although already his guyliner had smudged. With his black wiry hair, he looked more like Robert Smith from the Cure), refused to let him in. He said Adam hadn't made the effort. Fortunately for Adam, a quick thinker, he blagged it. He said he'd come as a spy. The man looked at him, at his worn-out trainers, faded blue jeans, and his untucked chequered shirt.

    'Nah', he scoffed and in a pirate-type voice, insisted that Adam looked nothing like James Bond. 'I'd say you're more an out-of-work lumberjack than a licensed to kill secret agent', he added.

    It was Adam's turn to scoff. He explained that the man had seen too many movies. Adam said that the best spies never wear tuxedos and dinner jackets. 'We need to blend in,' Adam insisted. 'I'm an invisible ninja spy, one of the very best'.

    The pirate was still unconvinced, but after seeing the crate of Becks Beer under Adam's arm, he eventually backed down and let him in.

    The small apartment was choc-block with mummys and vampires, clowns and fairies. There was even another pirate. This one however looked even less authentic. He had a cardboard cutlass wrapped in silver foil and a sorry-looking inflatable parrot sellotaped to his shoulder.

    After two cans of lager, Adam felt confident enough to mingle. Postman Pat was keen to indulge him first, but after commenting on how 'great Donald Trump was', and that he didn't like 'coloured' people, Adam quickly finished his drink and made for the kitchen to get another.

    In the kitchen, he came upon two girls. One had on a black nuns habit over a white wimple. Around her neck she wore an Action Man nailed to a wonky wooden cross. The other girl was dressed quite the opposite. She was wearing on a pair of gold lame hot pants and a white netted vest top. Her black push-up bra showed underneath. Both girls were very appealing to Adam's eye, and, judging by the way they were leaning on each other, drunk too. Handy, thought Adam. They introduced themselves as sisters 'Jenny and Penny', something they both thought hilariously funny. Parting, they allowed Adam access to the fridge and the beer.

    'I'm a nun,' slurred Penny, loud in his ear.

    'So I see. Bless!'

    'And what have you come as?' Asked the drunken nun. Her wimple had gone crooked, making her blind in one eye.

    'A spy of course,' replied Adam, defensively.

    'You don't much look like a spy,' added Jenny, also slurring. 'If you're a spy, show us your weapon then.' Before Adam had the chance to say anything back, Jenny promptly thrust her hand heavily into his crotch. She gave it a firm squeeze.

    Adam's yelp, more out of shock than pain, sent the girls barreling into a new fit of laughter. Jenny looked at her sister before saying, 'There's not much going on down there. He must be packing one of those 9mm's.' Her comment prompted yet another round of cackling laughter. Adam felt obligated to join in this time.

    'Okay, so what have you come as then?' Adam asked. He was looking at Jenny, doing his very best not to stare at her boobs. With the gold pants and blond hair, he'd assumed already she was going to say Kylie Minogue.

    Jenny's eyes grew suddenly excited, and seemed only too pleased to be asked. 'Hold on. You'll like this.' She downed her drink then dropped the empty bottle into the bin. 'I'll show you.' 

    Turning around, she opened the fridge and brought out a can of squirty cream. Removing the lid, she then filled her mouth, completely, with said cream. Jenny's cheeks were soon bulging, leaving her looking like a greedy hamster. Unlike the nun standing next to her, she was only just managing not to laugh. Putting the can away, she then came and stood dead in front of Adam. Before he had any idea what was about to happen, she smacked both cheeks, hard, with the palms of her hands. Outshot a volcano of white gooey sludge. It hit Adam clean in the face.

    'I'm a spot!' said Jenny, licking her lips. 'Get it?' She grinned, then kissed him hard on the mouth.

    

    The evening went down very well indeed. Like any good party, everyone had way too much to drink. When the beer ran out, Adam began on the Pernod. He found an old dusty bottle of it at the back of the cupboard. Never having had it before, but loving Liquorace Allsorts since he was a kid, he thought it the best drink in the world. Jenny (or was it Penny) only improved it by adding blackcurrant juice. The three of them finished the entire bottle before the night was out.

    The following day, Adam woke to find he had somehow got home alive, and to bed. He remembered only vaguely the party. He knew there was much dancing to Beyonce going on, and he could just about recall kissing someone. His lips were stained red, lipstick? Or was it blackcurrent? Remembering back to the squirty cream incident, Adam hoped it was lipstick and that it belonged to Jenny.

    Later in the day, still nursing a headache, Adam found in his pocket, a piece of paper on which was written a phone number. 'You're cute, call me,' it also read. They hadn't put their name.

    Again, he tried recalling whom he'd kissed and got on well with the previous night. He knew he'd spoken to lots of girls (Adam never bothered talking to guys. He saw it as a waste of time) but it was Jenny and Penny especially, who he remembered getting drunk with. So whose phone number was this?

    After three rings, a female voice answered. A good start, Adam thought. He said it was Adam and the voice said she was very glad he called. They spoke for a while, about the party, the costumes, the food, particularly the odd shaped sausages (they looked like willies), that no one touched. But not once did she mention her name. Even after long minutes of idle chat, Adam was still none the wiser. Eventually it was way too late to ask, especially after they'd each complimented on what great kissers they were. Before ending the call, they'd arranged to meet the following week in a nearby pub.

    

    They deliberately chose to meet early, to guarantee getting seats. The Fox and Whippet Pub, although it looked like it had been there for hundreds of years, it had in fact opened only 2 months previous. Before that, it was a Barclays Bank. Stepping inside, luckily, Adam saw there were only half a dozen people. One of them, sitting in a corner, had the face of a pretty young woman. She had shoulder length blond hair and looked vaguely familiar. She smiled at him, Adam returned it as he approached. Even close up now, he still didn't have the slightest idea who she was. When he offered to buy her a pint of Pernod, she laughed knowingly. Her getting the joke, he at least knew this must be either Jenny or her sister Penny.

    They got on remarkably well, with lots of handstrokes and positive body language. They even kissed and had a bit of a grope at the end. On their 2nd date, they slept together. Adam, somewhat out of practice, was a little clumsy, but everything still went well regardless. Well, that's what Adam thought anyway.

It was on their fifth date, a trip to Richmond Park, when Adam finally got to learn his girlfriend's name. They were queuing for ice creams when a voice behind them, called out.

    'Penny, hi, good to see you.' The man, dressed head to foot in khaki, pushed a humungous camera into Adam's arms, before then giving his girlfriend a rib crushing and lingering hug.

Now, on one hand, Adam was relieved. At last, he'd learned the name of the girl he'd been screwing for the past month, but on the other, she was now embracing another man altogether. The 'other man' was one of those alpha types. Tall, and with brown skin, dressed as he was, he'd look more at home fighting Rommel in the deserts of Africa than prancing around in Richond Park in London.

    Adam needn't have worried. All was fine after 'Penny' explained that 'Kirk' was a work colleague. He'd taken a few days away from being a solicitor and was spending time crawling through the grassy plains of West London, photographing deer instead. When the chummy meet was finally over, not only had Adam got to know his girlfriend's name, but he'd also learned she was a solicitor and spoke fluent French. Why that sort of thing hadn't come up before, Adam couldn't begin to answer, but from there on, he decided they should spend less time snogging and more time talking.

    With Adam's newfound knowledge, the conversations between them, immediately became infinitely easier. He could stop calling her 'Babe' or 'Petal' for a start. He could also ask openly about her family, including Jenny, her sister.

    It turned out Penny had come from a family of high achievers. Of her parents, both retired, 'Daddy' was once a surgeon, whereas her mother had been a very successful documentary filmmaker for the BBC. Oddly, it was trickier finding out what Jenny did for a living. Penny was vague to say the very least. Apparently she worked in the 'leisure industry'. She was a 'party planner of sorts', and, to her parent's distaste, was too much of a 'party girl' herself. Their 'Little Jenny', was the enigmatic black sheep of the family.

    As more time went by, whenever they all got together as a family, Jenny always managed to turn conversations about her, back to Adam and ultimately to his new wife, Penny.

    A message on the railway station PA sounded out. His train, going to Havant and ultimately Portsmouth Harbour, was pulling into the platform. Adam waited for the passengers to disembark before stepping up into the train himself. The doors slid closed behind him, he found it just a little unnerving. Starting slowly they began heading South. Adam found a seat facing the direction of travel. 

    Normally, when train travelling, Adam would pack a book to read, but today there were far more important things he needed to digest. Adam partly blamed his wife that he was having to do this. He loved her dearly and he knew she loved him back. Things were generally still really good with them. Even after 5 years they still regularly had sex. Penny kept a small diary by the side of the bed. The 2nd Saturday of every month had been ticked with a red love heart right up to the end of the year. After their 'intimacies' - especially if it was a good one - she'd often then draw a smily face, to mark they'd done it. As good as it was, once or twice, Adam had tried to mix things up a little. He thought doing it in another part of the house would be a nice change. He even suggested making room in the garden potting shed, with the intention of acting out a scene from Lady Chatterley's Lover (Penny's favorite book). Penny, although she pulled a face, she never refused. 'I hear you,' she would say, 'but lets do that next month shall we?' Of course it never happened when next month came around. They always only ever did in bed, where it was safe. With so many put-offs, he knew there was no point in suggesting this idea. Which is why he was on a train going to Havant instead.

    There were now just two more stops to go. Soon, all his finely tuned plans, would become a reality. Adam was both nervous and excited at the same time.

    Turning his head to look out the window, he played back in is mind, the comprehensive and detailed conversations he'd had with the woman on the phone. As bizarre as his requests might have been, she seemed to swallow them up like it was the most normal thing to do in the world. Her soft Scottish accent and reassuring tone helped too. On the internet, he'd seen pictures of her. She was about his age, petite, and had dark, almost black hair. It was cut into a short French bob. The woman called herself Sophie (Adam told her his name was Chris). After their first conversation, she'd suggested he sent her an email detailing exactly what 'Chris' really wanted. To make things totally clear he created a list with bullet points and sent it the next day. On the following telephone conversation, she repeated each and every one back to him, and even added a couple of good ideas of her own. The very last thing Sophie mentioned, caught Adam off guard. She asked if he liked being humiliated. What sort of question was that? He wondered. After all, from the very word go, him finding the right website, speaking to Sophie on the telephone, typing out his list of wishes, and then talking so frankly about them afterwards, wasn't that humiliating enough? Without giving any further thought, Adam answered 'yes', he found humiliation fun.

    Just as planned there was a Lldl Supermarket right next door to the station. It was here where Adam bought the things he was going to need for this upcoming experience. A few shops further down the same road, again as expected, was a hardware and gardening shop. From there he bought a pair of wellington boots. Now fully prepared, he had less than half half kilometre to walk before arriving at the memorised address. Because of the purchases, his bag had grown suddenly heavy. Fortunately, its wide shoulder strap spread the load, making it a little more comfortable to carry. With the bag being so full, the boots didn't fit inside. He had carry them separately, in a plastic bag.

    Making a final left into a street of small terraced houses, Adam was only 100 metres away. Quite unexpectedly at this point, he was suddenly hit by a cocktail of odd emotions. Anxiety, something Adam had never really experienced before, hit him smack bang in the face. Nerves were causing his heart to race, and fear, real fear, had begun to make his palms clammy with sweat. On top of all that, but on the plus side, he had an overwhelming sense of excitement. He felt drunk as adrenaline coursed through his body. It made him feel physically sick. He wanted to stop, to take a breath, but he knew that if he had, he would turn around and go home. That could never happen. Adam had planned way too long for this. He couldn't give up now. The sensations only grew with every step he made closer to the house. Adam was buzzing. He really couldn't believe how enjoyable it all was. Inside his mind, it felt like he was base jumping from off the top of The Shard.

    Arriving at the house at exactly the right time, Adam pressed the doorbell. Ding, dong, it went, all very normal. Whilst waiting for an answer, a woman pushing a buggy, rolled by behind him. He hid his face from her. The neighbourhood probably had no idea what went on beyond this blue wooden door. Adam didn't want to change the status quo.

    Noises came from inside the house. Shoes on a hard wooden floor were coming closer. The door opened just a few inches, only as far as the security chain would allow. Peering through the crack, he was pretty certain this wasn't the woman he'd seen in pictures on the website.

    'Yes?' she said. She had a gruff voice. A whisp of cigarette smoke escaped through the gap towards him.

    'Um, I'm here to see Sophie? Adam's voice came out as a squeak.

    'And who might you be?' 

    'Ada.... erh, I mean Chris. I'm Chris and I'm here to see Sophie.'

The door promptly closed. There followed a round of latches and chains being undone, before it then swung fully open.

    The woman must have been in her late 50's. She had peroxide bleached, nicotine coloured hair. Her skin was the shade of antique sandalwood. It looked like she'd spent way too much time under a sunbed. This was certainly NOT Sophie. Regardless, he followed her down the short hallway and into the kitchen at the other end.

    Without exchanging any words, Adam felt inclined to give her the previously agreed (Sophie on the telephone) sum of money. Holding it out, she refused to touch it. She shook her head and pointed to the table instead. Stretching the notes flat, he put them exactly where she'd said and put his hands back in his pockets.

    After counting it with the dexterity of someone well used to handling large quantities of cash, the woman then dropped it into a pot with Sophie's name on the side. Adam noted there was another pot right next to it marked 'Suzy'. Putting out her cigarette, about to light another, the woman spoke to him for the first time.                                                              

    'I'm Val, the Madame of this establishment. I'm here to make sure everyone behaves themselves. You don't want to be upsetting me, if you get my meaning. Show me ten quid and I'll see you come to no harm.' With one hand she lit her cigarette, the other, she held it out towards him.  

    Adam had set aside a total budget for this excursion. Everything, right down to the price of the wellington boots and enough to buy a cheese and pickle sandwich at the station on the way home, it had all accounted for. He certainly hadn't taken monies for 'safety insurance' into consideration. From his pocket he pulled out all his remaining cash. He counted a £20 note, plus another £7 in coins. Passing her the note, he expected £10 back.

    'Sorry Love, I don't got no change.' She put the crisp £20 note down the front of her top.

    Minutes passed and Sophie still hadn't appeared. Val said not to worry. She said Sophie was just getting ready and wouldn't be too much longer. She offered him a cigarette whilst he waited, Adam politely refused.

    The dead time led to Adam having to make small talk. The subject of fingernails came up. Val had a monstrously long set of bright yellow ones. Although they were badly chipped and almost the exact same shade as her awful hair, Adam said how nice they looked. Tapping them in sequence in the table as if playing an imaginary keyboard, she thanked him for the compliment. She then went on to say how useful they were.

    'It was only last weekend, right. I was in the pub, when some drunken bastard squeezed my arse. I nearly gouged his fucking eyes out with em, I can tell ya.' Adam hid his shock as best he could. Just looking at her, the terrible hair, the leathery skin and with a voice like she been chewing on a bag of gravel, it got him wondering how drunk the man must have been. Never before had he heard someone speak like her. It was as if all of the characters of Eastenders had been rolled up into one hideous Pat Butcher. At any moment he expected Danny Dyer to rush in shouting that the Queen Vic was on fire.

    Up above, there was the sound of a door opening, followed by footsteps coming down the stairs. At the kitchen doorway soon appeared Sophie, the woman he'd seen in the pictures. Standing there with hands on hips looking at him through heavily made-up eyes, he didn't know to be relieved, or even more scared than he was before. The thigh high boots she wore, made her look positively menacing.

    'So, you're naughty Chris are you?' Her tone was needle sharp. Gone was the soft voice she'd used when speaking on the telephone less than a week before. Now she was sounding very much the strict and very intimidating teacher he'd once had at school. Unlike his teacher, Sophie was wearing not just the boots, but  also a black PVC skirt and matching halter-neck top; it was cut deliberately to emphasis her ample breasts.

    Adam had forgotten how to speak. He tried saying 'hello' just to get things rolling, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. Fortunately Sophie didn't care about formalities. She narrowed her eyes at him.

    'Follow me! Bring your stuff,' she ordered. 

    Upstairs, now standing in one of the bedrooms, Adam had still not uttered a single word. Sophie closed the door trapping them both inside. To call the dimly lit room a 'bedroom' wouldn't be entirely accurate. There wasn't a bed for a start. Sophie called it her playroom. Because Adam had done the research he vaguely remembered seeing thumbnail shots of this room on the web. Being here in the flesh however, it looked completely different. The walls were painted in a deep purple. Curtains, pulled closed, were black. They blocked out most of the light. Opposite the window was a long sideboard. It was draped in velvet the colour of midnight. Laying on top of it were two rows of whips and rubber and steel unthinkables. One particular item, deep red, and about the size and shape of a large marrow, caused Adam's legs to wobble. At the other side of the room, in the far corner, stood a man-sized wooden cross in the shape of an X. On each of its extremities were metal manacles, and in the centre a thick leather belt. Where there should be a buckle, a padlock was fixed instead. Just peering around the room now, Adam was beginning to think, that maybe, he'd made a mistake. If he was able speak, he might have come up with some feeble excuse; tell Sophie he needed to go home to feed the cat or something. 

    Unaware of Adam's growing panic, Sophie promptly directed him to the centre of the room, where he found himself standing under a hook fixed to the ceiling. On the floor all around, he noticed a sheet of black plastic. Sophie had put it there just for him.

    Adam, now Chris, was then instructed to take off his shirt and raise his arms high above his head. Looping a chain through the hook first, Sophie then secured both his hands tightly with a pair of wide leather straps. Giving them a firm tug, she then took a step back to admire her handiwork so far. Adam didn't fail to notice the menacing grin etched into her face.

    Being completely immobilised now, it was up to Sophie to remove the rest of his clothes. After pulling off his shoes and socks, she began tugging at the zip on his jeans.

    'Lets get these off shall we? Don't struggle you naughty boy.'

    Being hung up like a side of beef, Adam couldn't struggle even if he wanted to. He was beyond caring. He was at last, beginning to actually enjoy things, just a long as he ignored the smorgasbord of torture equipment just a few feet away.

    Trousers off, Sophie rolled them into a ball and put them with the rest of his clothes. His underpants, she left them on, as was the plan. Adam felt vulnerable and of course humiliated. He was now totally at the mercy of Sophie, someone he barely knew, in a house, in a town he'd never even been to before.

    When Sophie took yet another step back, Adam saw her menacing smile turn to a look of amusement. She began to laugh, laugh in buckets at him.

    'What the fuck are you wearing? She asked, wiping away a tear. 'I thought they stopped making those ghastly Y-Fronts before the war. Even my grandad refused to wear them. He's been dead 10 years.'

    Looking down briefly, a smack of realisation hit him. Of all the pairs of underpants he could have put on today, why the fuck had he chosen those ones? They were white (once, now they were light gray), baggy and should have been thrown away months ago. He'd even once, used them to polish the car. In his badminton bag were the pants he should have put on. Why hadn't he? Stupid fool.

    If he could, he would have kicked himself. Instead, he felt his face turn a shade of crimson. This was what humiliation really felt like, and he wasn't sure it was his thing after all.

    At last Sophie was done with her laughing. Being the professional that she was, she promptly slipped back into character and become deadly serious again. Now wearing a look of contempt (or was it distaste), she began sorting through the bags Adam had brought with him. Finding the wellington boots first, she put them at his feet. Instinctively and without thinking, he went to slip his feet into them.

    'No!' Sophie immediately slapped his thigh. It really hurt. 'Don't move until I tell you to. Do you understand, you naughty boy?' She looked him in the eye expecting an answer.

    'Yes, s...sorry.' Adam's squeak was back. His voice was almost too high. Dogs would have heard it best.

Sophie tutted. She slapped his other thigh, even harder. That hurt too.

    'You address me as 'Mistress Sophie'. Understand?'

    'Yes, Mistress Sophie. Sorry Mistress Sophie.'

    'Better.'

    Adam had been feeling fearful from the moment he'd hit the doorbell, and it had grown in volumes from there on since. He'd only managed to keep in check by beginning to enjoy everything else around it. But her inflicting pain on him was a problem. It certainly wasn't on the list of instructions. Fact was, he'd implicitly said he didn't want to be hurt. Calling her Mistress, also not on the list, he could handle (he quite liked it actually) but pain? Pain hurts. Who in their right mind could like it? Throughout his 27 years Adam had always done his very best to avoid being hurt, but now it seems, he'd paid good money for quite the opposite.

    In his head, he screamed HELP! He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home to his wife, home to his safe and boring life.

    Sophie must have read Adam's mind. She promptly stopped rummaging through his bag and came closer towards him. Her face appeared barely inches away from his. For the first time, he got the scent of her. Over the smell of latex and leather, Sophie smelled of a mixture of mints and tobacco, with a slight hint of Dettol.

    'Not regretting coming here are you? You naughty boy.' She sneered.

This was Adams chance to get way. She'd given him an opening to say what he wanted to say.

    'No Mistress Sophie. I don't regret anything', he blurted. What the fuck? Where did that come from? Adam couldn't believe what he'd just said. This was NOT the Adam he knew. A part of him had gone rogue. He'd become a masochist and a willing cowardly one at that.

    'Good!' She replied. Then, quite unexpectedly, she lifted a knee and planted it clean in between Adams legs. It was a perfect shot.

    'Aaargh!' Screamed Adam. 'Please don't do that Mistress Sophie'. This new pain sent tears rolling down his cheeks. If it wasn't for the bindings keeping him to hanging there, he'd have ended up in a ball on the floor.

    Sophie had finished with him, for the time being at least. She went back to sorting out the contents of his bags. 

    The inflicted pain was intense. Already it had travelled up into his belly and was beginning to throb. The last time he'd had this sort of ache, it must have been at Army Cadets as a teenager. Whilst doing an assault course, he misjudged hurdling a brick wall. A leg came down either side of it. It was his weight, with the help of gravity, that caused the damage. His balls turned bright purple. The very look of them, put him off eating plums for life. To this day, he swears it's the reason why him and Penny could never have kids.

    Through weepy eyes he watched Sophie as she worked. He couldn't believe how much, and how quickly she had changed. This Sophie was nothing like the Sophie he had spoken to on the phone. That Sophie was nice, understanding, auntie-like. She'd had a caring, almost loving demeanor. Talking to her over the telephone, Adam pictured her as the sort of person one could take to a wedding or even be a bridesmaid. Everyone would adore her. They'd want to be her BFF. This Sophie however, the new Sophie, was genuinely scary, completely unpredictable. Dangerous even. Just like Adams alter ego, she too, had gone rogue. He now fully understood why, at the bottom of the list of instructions, she thought it a good idea to add a 'safe word'. She explained that it was all 'standard procedure'. If things got too much for him he simply had to say 'red' and things will come to an abrupt halt, no questions asked.

    The sports holdall was now empty. On the floor all around his feet were a dozen or so cans of food. Sophie had separated them into two groups, one savory, the other sweet.

    Looking down, seeing them, how many there were, Adam felt new wave of anticipation to rise within him. This time the sensation was nice, very nice indeed. Oddly, the continued throbbing in his groin and burning thighs, only complimented his new, almost euphoric, state of mind. It was like Sophie knew exactly what she was doing. She was a Master or rather 'Mistress' of her trade. Adam had been forced into a state of submission; putty in her well practised, skilful hands. 

    'Let's get started then shall we? I can't have you hanging up there all day. I'm a busy girl.' She threw him a wink, a smile. It was just a slightest hint of the Sophie he'd spoken to on the telephone previously. 

    Saying nothing more, she opened all four cans of dairy creamed rice. Then, sure Adam could see properly, she poured two cans each into his brand new wellington boots. Adam immediately become breathless. This was more than perfect. The very sight of what she was doing was stirring something deep inside of him. At last, the fantasy he'd been harbouring for so long, was finally coming into fruition. Watching the lumpy, creamy goo, drip into his boots, was almost too much to handle. It was even better than he could ever have imagined.

    With those cans empty, she then poured in the custard, one can for each boot. Finished, the wellingtons were now about half full.

    'Are you ready, you naughty boy?

    Adam was biting his lip, he nodded,'yes'.

    He watched as Sophie lifted and then gently introduced his feet into the, sloppy food filled, rubber boots. First the left and then the right, slowly his feet sunk down deep into the cool squidgy mess. Some of the yellow custard spilled up out over the edges. It ran down the sides and onto the plastic sheeting. It felt wonderful. Adam was ecstatic. He moaned, loudly. Everyone else in the house - and probably halfway down the street - would probably have heard. He didn't care, not about the noise, not about how ridiculous he must have looked, nor even his wife if she were to find out. At that point in time, nothing else mattered. 

    With the boots snugly on, Sophie then set about opening the savoury cans of food. Adam had gone for baked beans, baby carrots, peas, minestrone soup and Chinese sweet and sour sauce (he made sure it was chunky. It had to have lumps).

    Clutching the Heinz minestrone soup, she came closer and put the can under his nose. Adam breathed in deeply. The smell was intoxicating, better than any drug.

    'Are you ready, you disgusting little man? Are you ready for your 2nd course of sloppy, sloshy, slushy food?'

    'Y...Ye... Yes, Mistress Sophie.' Adam had never been more ready. Every inch, every cell of his entire body was ready.

    'Very well. Here we go.' Sophie broke eye contact. She found the waistband of his underpants and pulled it towards her. After a tiny pause, enough to make Adam gasp in frustration, she then slowly began pouring the cold soup down into his Y-Fronts. Drip, drip, drip.

    Adam growned yet again, as pieces of celery, onion, courgette, pasta and tomato, mingled about inside his underwear. That going on, and with his bare feet still inside the stodgy wellington boots, Adam was plunged into a state of sensory overload. He could barely restrain himself. His legs turned to jelly. It was only the bindings around his wrists, that were keeping him from falling over.

    Satisfied the can was completely empty, Sophie released the elastic waistband. It snapped back, causing some of the soup to splash out onto the floor. It landed with a splat. Adam's eyes rolled upwards at the very sound.

    Next came the baked beans. One can, she poured into the front of his underwear, the other, into the back. Adam barely had the chance to enjoy this new addition, before the tinned peas and baby carrots were also added to the sloppy mix.

    Sophie had begun laughing. The more food she poured, the more she laughed. There was genuine excitement in her eyes. Adam guessed she must be one of the few people in the world who actually enjoys their job.

    'Are you glad you came now, you naughty little boy?' She asked, opening another can of food. Adam was literally unable to talk. He simply gave a grunt and a half nod of the head. 'You look ever so silly,' Sophie continued. 'I'm tempted on showing you off to Val the Madame and the lovely Suzy. She's the other girl working this afternoon. They would both be most amused, I'm sure. What do you think, you ghastly little man?'

    Adam, now lost with the fairies, wasn't even listening. She could throw open the curtains to a bus full of photographers for all he cared.

    With all the cans empty, it was now time for the family sized jar of sticky, sweet and sour sauce. Rather than attempting to pour the bright red goo inside his already overfull underpants, Sophie chose instead to empty the entire contents, slowly, onto Adam's head. Splat! Drip, drip, drip.

    Being so thick and chunky, it look a short while for the Chinese style sauce to cascade down. Slowly, it dripped over his ears, his neck, and dribble onto his forehead. He was forced to close his eyes. The viscous vegetable gloop continued downwards. When it reached his lips, he stuck out a to tongue, and managed to hook a piece of pepper. After a tentative chew however, he realised it was in fact pineapple. Adam hated pineapple, always has done, but that was very reason he'd chosen the sauce and the first place. He wanted to push himself to his very limits. Adam's life had become boring, drab, empty of any excitement. He'd chosen to change that. Today he was suffering an afternoon of self inflicted, gooey, sticky and humiliating torture.

    The last remaining contents of the jar, Sophie poured into Adam's bulging Y-Fronts. Already overfull of cold lumpy tinned food, they began to expel like a ruptured dam. Noodles and petit pois were forced through leg-holes, they dripped and splashed onto the floor. Squinting through sweet sticky eyes, Adam looked down at the mess he was in. At first glance he thought his member had escaped the Y in the front of his pants. Wrong. It was instead a tiny river of baked beans. The beans, in a 'rich tomato sauce' - that's what the tin said anyway - were slowly meandering downwards along the inside of his this thigh. It stopped on the knobble of his knee before letting go and plunging to the floor in one stodgy pat.

    His eyes where beginning to sting, he was forced him to close them again. He'd become blind. All the food he'd brought, had now been poured over his near naked body. His special session was nearly over. The rustle of a plastic bag and the clunk, clunk, clunk of empty tin cans being dropped inside, confirmed it.

    With the cans all tidied, there came a brief spell of silence. Adam could feel Sophie's eyes on him. She was thinking something, plotting, but what? At last, she spoke out.

    'You look pathetic,' she began, 'disgusting and totally pathetic. But I think there's just one thing missing. You stay exactly where you are. I'll be right back.'

    Even if Adam wanted to move, he of course couldn't. He was still bound by his hands, and his feet were virtually immobilised in a pair of, full to the rim with rice pudding and custard, wellington boots. 

    There came a gentle rush of cooler air, it enveloped his body. The playroom door had been opened. Sophie's footsteps took her downstairs and into the kitchen. A few seconds later she a back with him again. Unbenounced to Adam she'd sourced a can of squirty cream from the fridge.

    'Now stand still, you naughty little boy.' Her voice came from only a few inches away. He felt her warm breath on his lips. It was all he could do not to lean forward and kiss her. Kissing was certainly NOT on the list.

    Sophie inverted the can of cream above Adam's head and squeezed the button. Out flowed an avalanche of sweet gooey dairy gunk. Adam learned immediately what was going on. He couldn't believe his luck. Just the sound of the cream leaving the can, brought back fond memories of the party, the party where he'd met Penny and of course Jenny, for the very first time. He could barely contain himself as he felt the coolness of cream cover his scalp. This was amazing, it better than perfect.

        It took about half the can to produce a mini mountain on top of Adam's head. Stopping before it collapsed in on itself, Sophie then gently placed a glacier cherry at its peak.

    'There, all done,' she sang, sounding proud. 'Absolutely perfect, even if I say so myself. Now stand still, I simply have show my handiwork to the girls. Val and Suzy will absolutely love this. DON'T MOVE A MUSCLE.'

    Having to hold his breath to avoid any movement, Adam heard Sophie call out to the other woman in the house. Immediately he heard noises, some from the kitchen downstairs. Others were coming from the room next door. Seconds later he knew he was being stared at by all three women. There was no mistaking the gravelly voiced chainsmoking Madam. Her laughter alone - more of a cackle - sounded like blocked drain with flatuance. It was loud too, embarrassingly so. It droned. Sounds made by the other two ladies weren't quite so obvious. They were far more feminine.

    The teasing and guffawing went on for a painfully long time. But even the best jokes have to come to an end eventually.

    The laughter was replaced by conversation. Voices wanted to know what foods were escaping from Adams filthy (and apparently very outdated) Y-Fronts. Sophie's graphic explanation of what was inside his wellington boots caused another bout of sniggering. 

    When the third voice mentioned his cherry topped, squirty cream hat, something caused Adam's heart to skip. It sounded familiar. The posh English accent, the way she spoke, sounded uncannily like his wife. In fact it was so much like her, if he didn't know already she was miles away, somewhere 'up North', he'd have been worried. The third voice continued on talking, laughing, making jokes, until suddenly it stopped. Adam heard a gasp, then silence. He was aware of someone coming towards him. The sweet sticky sauce all over his face made it impossible to open his eyes. What was going on? He wondered. The invisible person was right in front of him now. It spoke.

    'Adam, is that you?'

Adam wanted to die. The voice belonged to Jenny