The tart was just that. Let’s be frank, although far brighter than most riff raff, she was still a simple girl, smart enough to get paid a hefty price for her services, which was something in these days, but not much more. Still, there was a spark there and since meeting her during the investigation of the Burgdorf burglary we had become well acquainted and she’s found that my services were most satisfying after her nightly tending to the ruffian masses.
I supposed it had been months before that the idea had taken root in my head. My colleague Watson had made some offhanded remark about his upcoming nuptials and how I would most certainly not be needing a “plus one” on my invitation. He had often noted my lack of romantic partners during our friendship. For a brilliant man, the dear doctor could be quite daft.
Piecing together Watson’s various comments over our history, I started to see that there was an interesting theory in his mind about me. He was almost certainly under the impression that, either through my admittedly obsessive work ethic and insatiable curiosity about both the psychologically disturbing and the physically macabre, I had almost no understanding of sexuality. It may have even gone to the point where he believed that I was a virgin!
In deed it was a fact that in love, there were few people in my life whom I let strike those chords in my heartstrings. Fewer still were those who were ever made aware of my affections, if I did have them. My work, of course, came first. The matters of the heart often cause nothing but pain, as I’ve certainly experienced, and nothing will put lives in jeopardy and waste more time than ninny poems and moon-eyed longing.
Still there were times I have let myself slip into that heady world. The Elysian Fields of desire and romance were not unknown to me, nor the darkness of failed love. But we are not talking about love, dear reader, we are talking about sex.
The body has undeniable needs. Through meditation, the ingestion of herbs and rigorous mental acrobatics one can stave off the needs of the flesh for a time, surely, but as I attempt to thwart the even more nefarious temptation of a certain powdered extract of a member of the Erythroxylaceae family I have few diversions other than the violin and witnessing the inept failings of Scotland Yard to entertain my baser hungers.
And, to be frank, few things involve all my senses the way sexual congress does. Be it man or woman or any of the motley combinations I’ve found myself invited into, the number of reactions to account for; eyes dilating, tumescence, various wetnesses and swelling, the bevy of meaning in wordless moans and half held back whispers are too delectable for me not to catalog in my mind. Never is man more interesting than in that moment of ejaculatory inevitability. Never is the wonder of the female form more desperate and beautiful than when the sex blush blossoms between her breasts and those secret contractions reveal the priceless machinations of her enigmatic orgasm.
But I digress; let us get back to the tart.
Watson had, in his time, walked in on all variety of experiment and research in our abode. Often I was well aware of his schedule and set in motion things that would bring him into the cross fire of my tests for either comic relief or to push his curiosities into pace for my desired motivation in a case. As I said, a brilliant man who is at times daft.
On one Sunday I brought the tart, whose name was unironically Lily, though she held none of the pristine and innocent whiteness often metaphorically associated with said flower, into my chambers an hour before the dear doctor was bound to return.
I questioned her, as I often do, about the gossip and words on the street. Keeping abreast of the underbelly of these London streets. I seduced the sweet girl and in turn let her warm lips and plunging neck line carry the worries of my current case load away for a time.
I let her know in advance some of my plans, but not all. And even though she almost refused, I promised her a few pounds sterling to carry out my plan. Usually our affair was out of the clutches of her somewhat frowned upon profession and at times we played a game where she would even gift me with a tip of a few shillings for my heated ministrations.
After tasting the sweet lips of the temptress, I involved myself in some of the more complicated ropework of the orient I had learned during my time with the Nipponese mystic Hiryuu. Intricate coils and webs of thin hemp line opened the girl’s legs to my full attention and made sure no impatient fingers got in my way. As well I bound her chest tightly so that her lush maidenly mounds were thrust out and nearly purple with pressure.
These secret sciences of bondage were perfected to not only secure the body of the subject, but to heighten blood-flow to more delicate regions and render them even more susceptible to the lurid acts I was inclined to participate in.
Having her very much at my mercy and having a bit of time to spare before my dear Watson was assuredly to barge in I procured a bowl of hot and soapy water and went about shaving the girl’s most lovely nether regions. This was a particular of mine as well as a wonderful safeguard from the various pestilences that can be found in the crotches of urchins and whores.
As I made sure the trollop shorn and tidy she was at once hypnotized by the ropes that held her and enraptured by my stimulation of her most tender bits. I made sure to be generous in my petting and rubbing as the blade made her as smooth as in birth.
Watson, as sharp as the pocket watch he wound every morning, barged in just as I washed her off and went to work making sure my shave was precise with the aid of my tongue.
“Good lord man!” was the familiar salutation of the doctor.
“Excellent,” I said, not even turning around.
“I’m completely fascinated by this one, Watson. As a doctor I wonder if you can find reference to the phenomena this young girl experiences. It will only take a moment.”
I said this all without comment on the absurdity of my best friend crimson faced and trying to form words as I manually stimulated a completely nude and thoroughly bound nineteen year old street walker who was perhaps the most attractive women either of us had seen to date.
“Holmes… you… she’s…”
“Yes, yes, she’s remarkable, isn’t she? Look at the blush pattern as she gets more aroused. Around the neck, down into a long ‘v’ between her breasts. Almost to her navel! Fascinating.”
“Yes, Watson, I assure you, I can hear you. Now look at the labia majora and how they have swelled. I wish you were here an hour ago and saw their flaccid state. I assure you, they’ve almost doubled in size! As well her nipples are fully erect and even her aureola have started to swell.”
The doctor was so flummoxed he sat down in a chair, eyes locked on the beauty and proceeded to drop his hat and cane, mute with confusion.
Lily, on the other hand, was making quiet a racket.
“Oh god! Oh dear Mary and Jesus above!” she cried.
“Yes, yes, let’s save the hymns for church, right now there is a trick we have to show my dear friend.”
I maneuvered two digits into her vaginal opening and, palm up, began stimulating the upper wall of the vaginal barrel, hunting for a ridged area I had noted a few weeks back as well as a small protuberance therein.
I explained the details of this to Watson, who was still trying to form words to express his shock, but was visibly both aroused and curious from a medical standing.
“As well as the manual stimulation, the subject is also obviously aroused by being held down. See her muscles tensing under the rope and how her eyes roll back when she is reminded again at her predicament. As well, her humiliation at being shown off to an audience, to a man she doesn’t even know is affecting her. Even as a well practiced street walker she is still overcome by the perceived dirtiness of this act.”
I then faced the girl and as I continued manipulating her genitals I grabbed her face to make her look at me.
“You’re ashamed of how aroused you are, aren’t you? At how your hips are trying to push against me as you writhe around a naked little whore in front of my well dressed companion. Aren’t you?”
Her green eyes opened wide and watered a little as she tried to shake her head in the negative.
“Holmes, please, the poor girl-” but I cut him off.
“Watson, save your chivalry. What I am doing has been agreed upon and I assure you it is consequential as well as much enjoyed. Lily here has proclivities I have explored and documented over the past few months and although her libido is high and her experiences varied, the apex of her desires can only be reached by these more elaborate and violent encounters. Only by the aggressive penetration with four fingers pressing hard against the base of her cervix combined with verbal debasement and humiliation will the desired effect I wished you to notice be achieved.”
At that point the girl started screaming, moaning, thrashing about as much as she could in her bonds.
“Holmes! You’re killing her!” he said attempting to stop my now fervently pistoning hand.
I pushed him away easily, filled with the adrenaline rush of amorous power and held him by the collar with one hand while fitting my other hand fully into the girl’s body.
With that, the awaited response began. Watson and I watched as the girl’s body tensed violently and two, then three arcs of clear fluid shot from her vulva as she screamed with pleasure.
I continued for some time, until she begged me to stop, speaking nearly in tongues.
When I finished I went about untying the girl as Watson once again sank into his chair.
“What a fool I’ve been,” he whispered.
I smiled, washing my hands in a basin as the girl, still shaking, curled around my feel like a deliciously pink cat. Her mind unable to think as a human as her body was still possessed by the orgasms I had invoked.
I smiled at the new blush that went over my old friend.
“What? With all of my knowledge you really though I had ignored one of the most driving forces in people’s minds? Do you really think I would be unaware or inexperienced with one of the most important desires of myself and all those around me?”
Watson’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly.
I laughed, still high on my activities with Lily and aroused by the sway I now held over my friend. I helped Lily up and sat her on a chair, then held my hand out to Watson.
“Come on, Old Hen, I have another experiment you may be interested in, as a doctor,” I pulled him up and led him to my table.
“You see, in exploring Lily’s particular ability I found most men have a somewhat similar spot that one can manipulate to most interesting ends.”
Watson let out half a laugh before realizing I was serious.
“Come now Watson, surely you wouldn’t hamper such important work,” I said, procuring a glove from my cabinat.
Lily sat, still nude and blushing, with rapt attention as I pushed my partner around and roughly pulled at his belt.
“Just relax Watson, I’ll show you exactly how much I know about these things.”
And with that, Watson learned exactly what my considerable experience could do.
Fin.If you liked this story you can send me a tip via paypal.me/writingdirty