#400423 - Lady Brenda's Game BB - 113 Bill Ward
Lady Brenda's Game
a novel by Eric Thomas
illustrated by Bill Ward
Bizarre Books BB – 113
Eros Publishing Co., Inc.
Wilmington, Delaware
optimized ebook
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The Bizarre Books series exposes us to characters with vile dispositions, peculiar preferences, violent inclinations and diabolical objectives as well as those who are merely sexual gluttons and/or whose practices are characterized by ordinary meanness. Sometimes, we're introduced to institutional hierarchy or destructive criminals.
Gorgeous Lady Brenda may be one of the more innocent characters in this galaxy of strange sexual beings. She enjoys hurting men, but only if they are so inclined. She likes the occasional whipping, but only from those she trusts. And, she's a virgin.
Our story is set in London, during the Cold War. Harry, an MI-6 agent, knows Brenda from way back. He needs her to mobilize her extraordinary talents and assets in a unique counter-espionage operation.
The particular threat resembles the notorious Profumo sex scandal of the early 1960s. In both the actual espionage and this fictitious one, Communist spies exploit vulnerabilities of government officials while they engage in kinky sex. In Brenda's scenario, important men bring valuable documents to the (un)dressing room of the apartment in which she delivers much-appreciated dominatrix service. While she whips and humiliates them, a team member surreptitiously photographs the documents.
When she's arrested on a fake prostitution charge, Harry extricates her from police custody. At her place, he sees the wood table he was tied to while she whipped him, and he remembers the exotic encounter (see book cover) with her that demonstrated her talent for luscious domination.
Once Brenda gets herself recruited by the clandestine dominatrix service, she receives lots of training and fetish wardrobe. Olga the maid helps her dress for a client.
Perfumed and powdered, Lady Brenda stood still while Olga put the black kid leather corset around her slender waist. It was lined with satin, so that it would slip into position without drawing her skin into folds. The lacing was in front, and with care and patience Olga started to pull the laces tight, working from bottom to top several times, taking up half an inch of slack each time until at last the two edges of the leather met exactly in the middle. Brenda ran her hands down her sides, feeling her waist fantastically narrowed, and hard as a tree-trunk. Yet the garment was not uncomfortable nor unduly restrictive, because it was so beautifully designed.
The unusual pressure on the lower part of her stomach gave a sensation of sexual pleasure, causing her breast to heave as she was forced to breathe deep to recover her composure. Olga sat her down and pulled a pair of black net stockings up her legs. They were not long, coming only half-way up her white thighs, held there by six long black garter straps attached to the lower edge of the corset. Brenda stood up again, and Olga adjusted the garter straps so that they were tight, drawing up the stocking-tops.
She put a pair of black shiny shoes on Brenda's feet, shoes with seven-inch heels that forced her to stand on tip-toe, so that the muscles of her calves and thighs were brought to extreme tension. The heels were pencil-thin, and sharp almost to a point.
When she encounters her first client, she knows how give him satisfying pain.
"Come here!" The man began to get up from the floor. "Not like that! Grovel on your knees!" Startled, he began to shuffle across the carpet until he knelt in front of her.
"I am your Dominatrix. You have put yourself in my power, and there is no escape from it until I have had my will." Still holding him by the hair, and tugging painfully she half-dragged him across the room to the closet. She threw the doors open and the interior lights came on, revealing the contents, hung on racks, laid out neatly on shelves, hung on the walls.
"First," she said, her voice cold, menacing, "I am going to make you helpless. You may stand up." Swiftly she took a wide black belt and strapped it around his unresisting waist, pulling it as tight as possible. "Draw your stomach in!" she commanded. "I want this at least two inches tighter!" Attached to each side and slightly to the back of the belt were two strong short straps. Taking his wrists she put one in each strap and buckled them firm.
"Kneel down again," she commanded, making no attempt to help the client, who had to fall heavily on to his knees. "I am going to beat you severely. You have no choice in the matter. But you do have one choice. What do you like me to use? This?" She brought out a long, heavy black leather whip and stood, running the lash through her fingers. "Or this?" She replaced the whip and took a lissom school cane, with which she made hissing noises as she slashed it through the air. "Or this, perhaps?" She held a cat, with nine tails made of heavy whip-cord, with knots at each 2-inch interval. "Men cry when I use this," she warned.
"Well," she demanded crisply, her voice itself like a whiplash, "What is it to be?"
The man swallowed hard. "The — the — the cane, if you please."
She smiled, and he seemed to cringe away from her. "Ah! The cane. Good. I like it because when it falls on your ass I can FEEL the impact running up my arm. Move to the center of the room."
She followed her grovelling client who by this time was in the Seventh Heaven of delicious fear and anxiety. This tall, elegant woman with the cold, commanding aristocratic voice had him, literally at her mercy — and it seemed that she had no mercy. She was going to hurt him physically, and in that pain he could forget the other nagging little pains of his wife's greed, his son's failure to come to terms with adult life, the dislike of his immediate superior at work, the recurrent pain that shot through his belly after every meal, the worry about the information he had just been given about the latest developments at the Chemical Warfare Establishment — information in fact that was in his briefcase, securely locked and shut away in the dressing room with its security lock whose key felt cold against the skin of his chest.
The euphoria would last perhaps 3 hours. After that, all he would have would be the marks on his buttocks and the hurt where the cane had lashed him — and a faint memory of an hour's freedom from all his burdens, a faint memory that, within ten days would bring him back to this room, to grovel on his knees again.
"Stand up!" With difficulty the man got to his feet. "Open your legs wide!" He obeyed, and as he did so, two cold, rubber-clad hands with questing fingers grasped his genitals. His penis was held and suddenly twisted so that he gasped at the sudden agony.
The professional text was re-set for the ebook. A few changes were made to details relating to characters. The prose was edited, but the original vocabulary, Britishisms, and sentence meter were retained. About 43000 words.
Twelve illustrations by the Great Bill Ward illuminate the story. His pictures delineate grand female forms dressed in full fetish regalia, and moods that morph from fun to fury.
Mr. Ward's fine ink renderings were optimized for the ebooks. Virtual enlargements of action and figure features are intended to reduce the need for zooming and scrolling.
As possible, optimized images are placed near text that describes them. This volume has close correlation of illustrations and narrative.
Images were adjusted for the ebooks. In the digital iterations, pictures appear with smooth edges on more than 40 pages.
A second optimized ebook presents only pictures.
All new scans.
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Although some parts of pictures are obscured on this page, the ebook shows everything that's in the original.
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