Chapter Four:
STRANGERS IN MY BED.

Elaborate role playing between regular sex partners isn't as peculiar as it might sound, nor as unusual. When we first drifted into it early on, it was on paper like I said ... in our letters. The first time in full make-up and costume was full of surprises. A week after that leave when I suggested Malc should write to some of the sexy contact ads a letter arrived from Aberdeen addressed to the 'Divine Madam S' at our address. I could have killed Malc because the postman's good a friend of ours and member of the Darts Team. In it he'd written to me as though I'd advertised in a magazine called SEX EXCHANGE BY POST. According to him my ad had said “Frank exchange of sexually explicit letters desired by suburban housewife from frustrated sailor or manual worker living alone”! He'd concocted this quite sincere sounding letter from a man who had a wife who didn't understand his needs and was sexually frigid. He went on to unburden his secret sex fantasies which included every kind of perversion under the sun and ended with the admission that he was so sexually frustrated he was masturbating nightly together with several of his work mates and was seriously in danger of turning homosexual if he didn't get a sympathetic and understanding response. He even signed his letter with his real name!

For the next two months our exchange of letters was by return post ... sometimes he wrote a second letter before he'd received my reply to the one before. The erotic fantasies he thought up were incredible. In one of his letters to his “Divine Madam” he sent a set of ridiculous black see-through underwear with red marabou feather trim. I can imagine what sort of shop he bought it in Aberdeen . Well, he asked 'her' to wear it and think of him. In response I asked him to send a photo of himself in the nude. Ten days later I'm damned if it didn't arrive: Malcolm stark naked except for his hard hat and his wellies, grinning away larger than life. I've never dared to ask who took the picture ... which was in a box with this slightly larger than life vibrating dildo and a note suggesting that I should use it and think of him.

As a return challenge I wrote straight back and said that on his next leave not to go straight home to his wife but come visit me 'The Divine Madam S' for a couple of days. We'd actually booked a family holiday in Ibiza for the second two weeks of his shore leave ... but in my letter I said I (The divine Madam S) would send my children to their Grandparents for the weekend. It was really exciting. The next week his letter was very short. It just said that his leave started the following Saturday and he was very much looking forward to meeting me for the first time.

Because I had no idea if he'd have the nerve to follow through with it, I tried to cover all eventualities. I'd already ordered by post a few items advertised in the magazines he'd left ... just for a bit of devilment ... but I'd never dared show them to him. They were just what I needed if I was to live up to the reputation of the Divine Madam S. - Slut of the South Circular Road . So I packed the kids off for a weekend with his Mum and Dad, my excuse being that I would be working overtime to earn extra cash for our Spanish holiday. Of course they were always happy to go because Malc's Mum and Dad always spoilt them rotten.

On the appointed morning the front doorbell rang and I was suitably tarted up as The Divine Madam S. just in case. I'd even borrowed this long dark wig ready to give the acting performance of my life. When I opened the door there stood Malc and I was stunned. He'd had his lovely long hair shaved down to a tight crew cut, wore seaman's sweater and wellies and was smiling like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. “Are you Malcolm Barratt's missus?” he asks in a broad Scottish accent. There was a pause before I nodded. “Funny,” he says, “he told me your were brunette. Anyway Malcolm asked me to look in on you while I was on leave. He sent you these,” and he produces a bottle of booze and chocolates from his canvas kit bag. The bastard had concocted a totally different scenario. “Would you mind if I came in for a wee while?” he says easing his way past before I could answer. I was totally off balance but the scene that followed should have won us both an Oscar because, having switched roles into the role of dutiful wife and mother, Andrew McGilligan (“Call me Andy” he tells me!) opens the Scotch, plants himself in Malcolm's chair and starts making a strong pass at his good mate's wife. When I demurely rejected his advances, downing a third “wee dram” he starts getting insistent and I find myself defending my honour against a sex starved helicopter pilot on his first visit to London .

It was a wonderful performance. Before long his character started to turn quite nasty and suggest that he could take me by force if I didn't co-operate. I was just deciding whether to drop my role and opt out of the game or knee him in the groin and ruin both our weekends ... when he suddenly changed tack and said not to worry, Malcolm had asked him to visit and tempt me because he had heard that I was being unfaithful. Well, I acted outraged and shocked and then came the tears and ordering him out of the house. Suddenly he asked why I was trying to get rid of him and what was I trying to hide and who was I expecting ... and before I knew it he was up the stairs and into our bedroom.

Well the lacy lingerie and the dildo were all laid out on the bed ... and a Scottish Presbyterian Minister couldn't have been more biblical about me and my Fancy Men. It was time for thinking on my feet so I said I knew Malcolm had been having an affair through a contact magazine. I cried a bit and said I'd fetch us both a drink and I'd explain it all. Down stairs I quickly reviewed my options and dashed back up stairs with two large glasses of scotch ... and I don't even like scotch! He was sitting on the bed looking at the set of lockable leather wrist and ankle restraints with matching collar I'd bought by mail order. For a minute I thought he was going to come out of his character ... but he downed the drink in one gulp instead. I could see I'd gained a little time so I took it quite slowly. “Andrew,” I said “I am not, in fact, Malcolm Barratt's wife. I am a professional Dominatrix and his wife Sally has paid me to be here because her husband was supposed to arrive today and wanted his wife to do terrible perverted thing to him ... and I'm a lady who can deal with men like that.” Calmly I added “That's why I laced that drink I just gave you with a potent chemical which will make it impossible for you to resist me physically or mentally ... do you understand? Can you feel that all the power has drained from your muscles? You will do exactly as I tell you. OK?”

I could see that his old brain was whirring away before he decided to play along. He says weakly but ever so dramatically, “You Bitch, what have you done to me?!” “I have made you my slave and my prisoner. Take all your clothes off. You have just enough strength to do that but no more.” Acting like the last of the zombies he strips right down to the buff as I sit on a chair and watch, smiling enigmatically. “Now lock on the ankle, wrist and neck restraints,” I purr. He does it and Zombie or not his pecker was stiff as a pole. He co-operated while I fastened him to the bed, then I got the other glass, lifted his head and gave him a drink from it. “This is the antidote to the drug. Your full strength and power will be restored immediately. You can fight and struggle as much as you like now because I'm not going to let you loose for 48 hours”.

“Forty eight hours,” he yells suddenly springing back to life. He thrashed around and really put my new purchases to the test. Luckily they were worth the money and held him fast ... but he didn't give up easily. “Keep still,” I barked and slapped him quite hard. “Now tell me who you are Andrew McGilliguddy or Malcolm Barratt?” He thinks for a minute and then says “McGilligan. Andrew McGilligan, helicopter pilot for B.P.” “Right Andrew, I'm going to do to you all the things that your friend Malcolm wrote and told me he'd like me to do to him. Two whole days with no arguments. No get out. Right?” Well, he was determined not to drop his character ... and for two long days and nights I pulled out all the stops. He slept in restraints for the first time. I'd also bought a good solid gag so he couldn't keep me awake. Incidentally, this isn't the time to interrupt the continuity to talk about long scenes or degrees of 'consent' and the removal of it, but I hope to find a place to slot it in later on ( see page ?? ) .

Anyoldway, by the end of it all poor Andrew was drained quite literally. He acted like it had never happened to him before .. and I had worked in a lot of surprises ... and it was the longest scene we'd ever sustained. When I let him loose poor old Malc was too tired to think and I played my part right to the end. When he'd got his clothes back on I kissed him gently. “Well now Andrew. You pop off down to the station and phone Malcolm and ask him if when his leave starts he's coming to see The Divine Madam S. for two days before he and his wife and kids fly off to Ibiza for his leave proper. Andrew nodded and trotted off down the road like a lamb.

In about ten minutes the phone rang “This is Andrew, Madam” he says, “Malc says he's feeling a bit shattered and would like a couple of quiet days at home before the start of the family holiday ... but he asked me to ask if perhaps on his next leave he could come and visit you for the first time.” “Tell him I'll look forward to that, Andrew,” I said. Well, talk about quick change and stage management. I only just had time to change my clothes and pack away the gear in the bedroom before I heard Malc breeze noisily in through the back door. He was wearing a colourful athletic track suit and carrying a sports hold-all; the sailor's kit bag and wellies nowhere to be seen. I thought ... you have a talent for this game matey. I'm going to have to get in some practice. Since then the repertory of characters we turn into to turn each other on has grown. Together we'll plan a night out ... perhaps by one of us going to a bar we know which is mainly for singles in Redhill ... the other will arrive pretending to be somebody totally different. It's real improvisation stuff. We have a file of character types, turn-on clothes, basic scenarios. Sometimes we just pick a piece of paper out of a hat. Malc knows I like his slightly dumb drunk Irish labourer and motorcycle stud or off duty policeman new to the neighbourhood. My tart with the heart of gold and the school teacher who's never had sex and getting desperate are fun for us both. I suppose many people don't need or can't deal with elaborate role play in sex ... but I tell you, it beats going to the pictures.

END CHAPTER 4

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