Tonight, I Shall Seek Redemption

tagGroup SexTonight, I Shall Seek Redemption

This is a sequel to 'Tonight I Shall Be Called Scarlett' and follows on from an almost throwaway line towards the end of that story in which Luke mentions his father's former mistress.
This is the tale of how she comes to him, seeking forgiveness and redemption.
It can be read standalone but TISBCS will give Luke's back story in more detail.
All characters engaging in sexual activity are over the age of 18.
Prologue – Him
I loved it when she blindfolded me. It was the sign that things were beginning to hot up and the real nitty-gritty of the evening was about to begin.
The part of the evening where she did those things to me that I would never dare ask another girl to do. It was why I paid her so handsomely and why I had chosen her so carefully from a potential pool of hundreds of candidates.
It was my tenth visit to her and for the first eight meetings, I had known her by a different name each time. Last time I had called her Scarlett and we both liked it so Scarlett she remained.
Unusually, she didn't work under a name, assumed or otherwise. It was her USP – she allowed her clients to name her at their whim. She styled herself as a Tabula Rasa – a blank page on which to write fantasies. She would then take the basic script and create an unforgettable evening of debauched and depraved sex.
As it was my tenth time, she told me she was setting the storyline and there were a few surprises in store for me. As she fitted the blindfold, I took a deep breath around my ball-gag and waited for it all to begin.
There was a short delay, then I felt her breath on the head of my erection. It was held at the perfect angle by an Arab Strap. I relished the feel of the soft leather, buckled tightly as it held me in position.
I knew she wouldn't be blowing smoke on me. Not yet anyway. She liked me to watch that particular treat and so did I. No, this was just a little teaser to get me extra-hard for whatever she had in mind.
I moaned into my gag as soft lips closed around my glans. She sucked for a moment and I visualised her cheeks hollowing as her tongue flickered and her stud massaged my frenulum.
Usually, she tied me to the chair with tissue paper. It was easy to break and required all my willpower not to tear it and go postal on her. Tonight she used Velcro straps, so at least temptation was not in my way.
She worked on me gently for a minute or so and I willed myself to relax. The fat silicone plug in my anus added to the thrill of the moment and I couldn't wait for the sting of her nipple clamps.
But that never came. Instead, she ceased her glorious torture and I felt her breath in my left ear as she came close.
"So, our tenth meeting, Luke. You've been a loyal and very imaginative young man and I value loyalty. As such, I am going to give you a little bonus. A stamp on your Loyalty Card if you like. What do you say?"
A thill of excitement ran through me and I nodded enthusiastically and thanked her with a strange, muffled noise.
She kissed me on the cheek. "Going to love this one, Luke!"
Her sucking resumed, slow and sensual. She used only her lips and tongue and I took in every nuance of what she did to me. It was utterly exquisite and in my euphoria, I missed the salient fact.
It wasn't her mouth.
That only became obvious when she whispered to me once more and the amazing sensations down below continued as she spoke. It was then I realised. The lips were thinner, the tongue a little longer and not adorned with her stud.
"Who can it be, Luke?"
I was just thinking the same thought myself.
"Does she feel good?"
Another enthusiastic nod. My mind was in a whirl. Again, she was one step ahead of my next thought as she went on, her voice low and seductive.
"Such a thrill for your first contact with someone to be so… intimate! Wondering what she looks like? Her age? Is she blonde, brunette, redhead? A barely-legal schoolgirl, a mature stunner or a raddled old whore?"
There was a slapping sound of flesh on flesh.
Her head must have turned as her voice was no longer in my ear.
"Ow, sorry darling. Only teasing him. No need to hit me that hard – it's him that likes the slapping about."
She returned to me. "Not a raddled old whore, that's for sure."
The delicious sucking ceased and I heard her voice for the first time, every bit as seductive as Scarlett's.
"Should think not. Luke, darling. I am of course a whore, but neither old nor raddled. If you are not offended by thirty-five year old, bisexual blue-eyed blondes, then I think we will get along just fine. Nod if you approve."
I nodded and tried to ease the build-up of saliva in my mouth.
"Good. So come on then, Scarlett; I think it's time for the unveiling, don't you? This fine young gentleman's unforgettable first sight of me will be when he sees me impaled upon that impressive looking erection of his."
"While I fuck him up the shitter with my strap-on?"
"Well, I wouldn't be that vulgar, dear. Maybe, 'while I make love to his darker passage with a carefully lubricated sex-aid.' But whatever – in principle, that was what we agreed, yes."
I thought I was about to come on the spot as Scarlett untied me. The woman's voice now came from away to my left.
"Is this the correct bench?"
"It is. Shuffle your arse a little, get your puss right at the edge. Make things easier when we all hook up."
She tugged on my collar chain. "Come on, time to meet Abigail."
She took hold of my now throbbing erection and it was joined by another hand. My low moan was joined by a breathy gasp as they guided me into a hot, wet snatch. She gripped down on me with strong vaginal muscles and I knew this was going to be very special indeed.
I gasped again as Scarlett pulled out my plug, then groaned as she slowly entered me. It was her ribbed dildo and it felt incredible as it went in segment by segment. Booted legs gripped my thighs and rubbed across my buttocks.
I held my breath as she removed my gag and blindfold. I blinked and looked down at a pretty, elfin face smiling up at me surrounded by a well-coiffed halo of soft, golden curls.
"Hello, Luke. About time we shook hands like civilised human beings amidst all this squalor. I don't know – sucking your cock before we're even introduced. Letting you inside me before you've even seen me. That woman does have some rather naughty ideas!"
She held her hand out. "Abigail. Call me Abbie."
She squeezed her muscles again. "Fuck that dick feels good, Luke!"
It was all so surreal. I took her proffered hand and shook it gently before kissing her fingers.
"My pleasure, Abbie. This is such a fucking turn-on!"
"Then fuck, dear boy!"
Scarlett began to move in me slowly and I picked up her tempo. Abbie tweaked her own nipples before she guided my left hand to her clitoris. I took her between my thumb and forefinger and massaged gently.
Whatever else the ladies I paid for sex had taught me, I had learned restraint. I knew how to last. I managed almost fifteen minutes before Scarlett saw my tell-tale signs. Abbie moaned and writhed beneath me as Scarlett pulled out. Now free of my rear-gunner, I went at her hard, her legs wrapped tightly around me as our mouths mashed together in a feral kiss.
Her gutter language in her posh voice spurred me on and when Scarlett's strap-on clattered to the floor and she knelt cheek by cheek with the woman, I knew what was required. They took me in one hand each and I knew I was done.
I had once or twice managed a small spurt when particularly aroused but was shocked and thrilled to see a long arc spray out over their upturned faces. Abbie took my second shot and went down on me once more, her cheeks hollowed as she milked the last from me.
By the time they had finished playing with it, snowballing and spitting, I was hard again and taking Scarlett doggy-fashion as she lapped at Abbie's puffy pussy lips. The hours seemed to fly by and finally, we fell into a sated, happy pile on Scarlett's huge sex platform.
Later, as I thanked Scarlett and Abbie for a memorable evening, I realised I had acquired another addiction. In addition to my other fetishes, foibles and strange desires, I was now addicted to having sex with more than one woman simultaneously.
I took a taxi home and let myself into the empty house in a state of euphoria. I dreamed dreams of writhing bodies and soft moans.
The next morning, the euphoria quickly turned to deep despair.
Where was I going to find someone who could give me those thrills in everyday life? It wasn't a problem financially for me to pay women to do those things – the Trust Fund my late, unlamented father left me meant I could pay them every night for twenty years and barely make a dent in it.
No, it was a mental thing. I was falling apart. There was a developing shame at feeling the way I did and a raw, open wound caused by paying women to sate my perverted desires.
My next meeting with my girlfriend-surrogate, the lovely Slovakian girl Jessika, was an utter disaster as I found myself blurring the lines between my women.
She looked at me with shocked eyes as I tore into her and when I rolled her over and went hard, she turned to me with a look of horror.
"Hey, leave it out, Luke. You know I said no ass. I just don't like it. What's up with you today?" She felt behind her and winced. "That fucking hurt, Luke."
I had never heard her swear in all our meetings. We had always been gentle and the sex had been stellar. Now I knew I had crossed the line and wept in her arms for an hour.
As I left, she looked up at me sadly. "It's been fun, Luke – but I think we've taken it as far as we can, yeah? Maybe it's time you got yourself a real girlfriend."
Knowing she was right, I thanked her for our time together and left. I transferred her twice the usual fee and got on the train utterly bereft.
At least my next meeting with Shauna, my 'bit of rough', went well. She normally exhorted me to 'fook meh 'arder' in her broad Manchester accent, but this time, as I lay on the twin pillows formed by her enhanced chest, she purred.
"Fookin' 'ell, way to go, Tiger. If I asked yer to go any 'arder tonight, I'd have been through that fookin' wall into t'livin' room!"
Over the next few weeks, I saw another couple of women for variation, but nothing worked. Jess was right. I needed someone of my own; if not to take care of my needs, then to take care of my sanity.
I needed salvation, but the trouble was, I just didn't have the first clue where it was coming from.
I didn't realise then that I only had a few weeks to wait, and when salvation arrived, it would be from the last place I expected.
One – Him
It was so unusual for the landline to ring I almost had to remember where it was. I took so long to pick up the receiver, it was about to trip the answering machine.
Not that it mattered. It was either going to be a cold caller or an automated dialler that would respond to my greeting with a few crackles and pops followed by a burst of static and dead air.
It certainly wouldn't be my mother. If she ever bothered to contact me it was usually by social media and was as brief as possible.
That was just fine by me.
I muttered an unenthusiastic, 'Hello' and waited for the inevitable silence.
I was surprised to say the least when a very pleasant voice came back at me.
"Oh hi, sorry to trouble you, but I was hoping to speak to Mrs Laura Turner if I may."
Whoever she was sounded young, and she was also very nervous for some reason. There was an unmistakable shake in her voice.
Puzzled, I kept my tone flat. "Sorry, she's out of the country at the moment."
As she had been for much of the previous eighteen months since my father shuffled from this mortal coil and left us very relieved and very well taken care of.
She sounded disappointed. "Ah ok. Any idea when she may be back?"
"No, sorry. It's open-ended. Look, who is this please?"
She now sounded flustered. "Right. Oh shit, I knew this was a mistake. Look, sorry I troubled you. Don't worry about it, I'll… oh fuck it… sorry again and bye."
This time I was listening to dead air.
Slightly shocked and definitely intrigued I tried the redial option, but she had withheld her number.
Oh well, she was probably a cold call after all. I put it behind me and went back to my morning's work – a real labour of love.
The magazine I was in the process of scanning was an almost mint-condition copy of a legendary Danish porn magazine, Anal Sex #49 from 1983. The collector in Augsburg was paying top dollar for this issue and later I would load up the scans to a website to which I was now a frequent contributor. The stash I kept locked away had come from my father's private collection which I had been charged with destroying when my mother discovered it post-mortem. Needless to say, not a single copy was set on fire.
I was in the process of re-stapling the magazine when the phone rang again. This time I was halfway across the floor when it rang off. Once more, the number was withheld. Whoever she was and whatever she wanted, she was pissing me off royally.
It was well over an hour before she called the third time and despite wanting to ignore her, I was curious. My voice echoed my exasperation as I picked up. There was a short delay before she responded.
"Sorry, this is not easy for me…"
I felt like saying it wasn't particularly easy for me either, but I didn't want her to ring off again.
"Who are you?"
"Is that Luke, Mrs Turner's son?"
Now I was getting really annoyed. "Never mind who I am. Not to put too fine a point on it, what the fuck is going on? Who are you?"
"Sorry – it's just if you're not Luke, then it doesn't matter and I'll leave you alone. Please, are you Luke Turner?"
She sounded so desperate I took pity on her. "Yes, I am he. Now can we please have some parity here?"
There was another pause as she took a deep breath. "Ok, thanks. I'll tell you, but you're not going to like it."
"Why?"
"You'll see in a moment. My name is Jae Hwa Park."
"It's a lovely and unusual name but it doesn't mean anything to me. Should it?"
Another pause. "Thank you. It's Korean. My mother is from there, but my father is English. I took her surname when they divorced. You may not know my name, but you will know of me. You probably know me by three other words. Your mother referred to me by them frequently in our very brief communications just over a year ago."
Any icy chill ran through me. If this was going where I thought it was, I really didn't want to know.
"Are you fucking kidding me? Say those three words."
She sounded like she was about to burst into tears. I barely heard her down the line.
"That fucking whore."
The icy chill turned to a full-on blizzard.
"Jesus, what the fuck do you want, you manipulative little bitch? Good job it wasn't my mother, because she'd be on her way right now to fucking-well kill you. I don't want to kill you, but I'd gladly spit in your face."
There was a sniff and a shuddering intake of breath. "I can understand why you feel that way, Luke. That's the reason I called. I knew what your reaction would be, but I have to speak to you or your mother, preferably face to face."
I was almost incandescent with rage but I managed to keep a lid on it. "Well my mother is in the Caribbean, so if we do meet, it is going to have to be me. I cannot possibly think what you might have to say, but if all you are going to do is rub it in, then I may well want to do far worse than spit at you."
She sounded shocked. "Rub it in? No, honestly, I just want… I just, oh God this is so fucking horrible. I knew I shouldn't have started it." She tailed off, close to tears.
"Well you have started it. So – what is it, Miss Park? You got my father's money for fucking his brains out until he died. What the fuck else do you want from us?"
She was silent a long time. "Forgiveness. To pay the money back. And I hope, some form of redemption."
I had to bite my lip to stop myself from screaming at her. I spat the words out through gritted teeth.
"Think again, lady."
"Please, Luke. Meet with me so I can tell my side of the story. It's not what you think, I swear."
"Why now? Why over a year on?"
This time, she did cry. "Because I can finally look myself in the mirror again after what your fucking father did to me Luke."
I wasn't expecting that. "What did he do?"
"Please, it will be easier to explain face to face. I'm in London at the moment, but I can drive down and meet you somewhere. Neutral territory if you'd prefer."
My mind was in turmoil. She sounded genuine, but a twenty-one-year-old Personal Assistant who ran off with a married, middle-aged owner of an international electronics company could probably conjure up pity and remorse with ease.
I was about to refuse when she came back.
"Please, Luke – I beg you. I know you hated him, but I hated him too. I know he made your life a misery because he rejoiced in telling me as he made mine a misery."
She let out a tiny sob. "Please, Luke. Give me a chance to explain and give me a shot at redemption."
What she said had shaken me to the core. I took a deep breath. "Ok, ok. Do you know the Griffin in Amberdown?"
"No, but I can look it up."
For the second time, I took pity on her. "It's on the High Street, not far from the station. Maybe best to get the train, state you're in. It's just under an hour from London."
"Ok, good idea. When?"
"Can you make tomorrow, say three? It should be quiet midweek. I'll be in the garden."
She said she had an appointment at one, so we agreed on five.
She sounded relieved. "Thank you Luke. I really appreciate it."
I felt myself wavering in my hatred of her, so I needed to sign off with some degree of authority.
"Don't piss me about, Miss Park. As far as I am concerned, you are still guilty until proven innocent. The burden lies with you to change my mind. You weren't a home-breaker and you weren't his first mistress. The damage had long been done and the home was well and truly in rubble by the time you came along."
I paused. "But you were the last. And you were the one who inherited over ten million pounds from him. Exactly the same as my mother and I got each. So a small word of advice, Miss Park."
"Yes, what?"
"Make it fucking convincing."
I slammed the receiver down and sat with my head in hands, shaking like a leaf. Tears coursed down my cheeks as I ranted and raved and called her all the names under the sun.
The fucking bitch, the fucking whore. The girl nine months older than me who had a long affair with my father then ran off with him to Thailand. The little tart to whom he left one-third of his fortune when he died a few weeks later in a motorcycle accident.
My mother and I had long-since given up on the violent, womanising piece of work that she had married and I called 'father' to his face, but usually a four-letter word beginning with 'C' behind his back. Even though we had barely seen him in four years, it had been a relief when we heard of his passing, three days after the accident.
In that time, he re-worded his will to include his latest mistress. A final insult and slap in the face to me and my mother who had to put up with his philandering and physical and mental abuse for years.
My mother knew the girl's name, but I never did. The girl had been right. She never called her by that name.
She was always referred to as that fucking whore.
Now I knew she was called Jae Hwa Park. It sounded nice and exotic. It humanised her and I didn't want to humanise her.
I went upstairs and searched for a few moments on my laptop. I found what I was looking for and watched for twenty minutes as a Korean girl was strapped down and fucked and whipped brutally until she begged for release.

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