THE RUE DE L’ENTRANCE was to be found on the southern edge of the great city of Paris. It was an unimportant street of small dilapidated houses long past their best, if they had ever had a best. Cats sat on hot stones to drink in the noon sun and a midday silence more suited to a small village lay over the area. Alison parked her small red sports car as near to the building she sought as possible. She crossed the road to the paint-peeled door marked with a number nine. After hesitating, she knocked hard and waited. There was a long pause, and she had just raised her hand to knock again when she heard a noise from within. The man who opened the door to her was short, bent, old and foreign. “Herr Craftsman?” she enquired.
He nodded through half glasses.
“Alison Kwik,” she said, extending a hand which he did not take. “Come in,” he said in a thick German accent.
He led her into a dark and dirty hall. Instantly the cool air was full of the smell of leather, stacked along the walls were large rolled hides in many colours and ahead was a narrow staircase, equally ill lit. The old man went ahead and up the stairs and she followed. At the top he disappeared through a half-opened door. She slowly followed and found herself in a strange and crowded room. It was at the rear of the building and light flooded in through a large, dust-encrusted skylight set partly in the room. All around were cluttered work benches covered in strips of leather and gleaming tools polished with constant use. The sweet smell of leather hung heavily in the air, full of sensual animal power. Herr Craftsman had by now seated himself in a position of authority on a tall stool at a far bench.
“So you have come for one of my little toys?” He asked, his eyes sparkling with an excitement not suggested by this age.
Alison agreed with him, feeling both embarrassed and excited by the situation she found herself in. Though there was still a strong hint of the active male in the old man, there was also the professional detachment that all specialists cultivate. With the ease of long experience and complete familiarity with the difficulties almost all his clients found with the situation for the first time, he launched into his familiar routine. First he seated her by pointing to the only other chair in the room, then with delight he started to describe his service in detail. “You could have a half harness but that would not be for someone as beautiful and so well created by nature as you. No, for you” – here he paused to give effect to his consideration – “No, for you, a full and very elaborate harness is the only one. You are fit and young and would be a perfect body for something so wonderful and so demanding.”
“Now,” he paused again, holding his chin with his hand, “we must consider the most important of considerations. Will you require a female as well as a male extension?” Before Alison could even begin to answer, he answered for her.
“Yes, again you are someone who will most definitely want a female extension and, if you don’t mind me being blunt, we will have to consider both size and shape. In fact to do this correctly and to give you my best work, I must be permitted to measure everything.”
He held up his hand to suggest protection or reassurance. “My clients trust me, and I am sure that you will be no different. I have been recommended to you and for me to do my best for you, we must trust each other.”
At this point Alison felt that she had better say something.
“Herr Craftsman, I would not be here unless I was willing to undertake what is necessary to possess an example of your extraordinary skill. I will, of course, be only too pleased to cooperate with you to achieve this.”
“Good, good, we understand each other. Then we must get on. I regret, my facilities are very limited,” he gestured around the room. “May I ask you to remove all your clothing. While you do this, I will get some things together so that I can take my measurements.”
Alison found the moment and the request stimulating. This was certainly no doctor’s surgery but the same detached pressure to conform was there and felt. She had undressed in front of many men but this was hardly that – more like a dressmaker but even then different.
Herr Craftsman turned away and started to gather together a number of obviously essential items. Alison set about undressing. Fortunately, she had on only casual clothes. First she looked around to find a place to put them. Seeing nothing obvious, she opted for the already crowded bench. With slightly false confidence, she pulled the tight cashmere sweater over her head. The soft material rubbed gently over her hard nipples. The cool air of the room felt fresh on her bare breasts. They delighted her and those who were allowed to play with them, male or female. Hard, high and very round, they were a little larger than her slim, long frame suggested. Next she unlaced her high-heeled boots, pulled them off and placed them neatly under the bench.
She had to stand to remove her tight jeans. She pulled them with difficulty down her long legs and had to hop to keep her balance. She was left with her small plain thong, the cord at the back disappearing between her round cheeky bottom, the thin material at the front cupping the distended mound and slightly moist where it slipped between the pouting lips.
The progress of the undressing had not escaped the alert eyes of Herr Craftsman, “Everything, please, young lady; everything.” He made a slight movement of his hands and Alison looked down at the brief white covering and the pink pop socks.
“You can leave the socks on,” said Herr Craftsman, as though such a concession would ensure her modesty.
Alison slipped her thumbs through the thin elastic and in one movement pushed the throng down to her feet, where she kicked it free. She stood up, legs slightly parted, to confront Herr Craftsman with the delicately trimmed and most minimal crowning of pubic hair over the powerfully displayed and lustful mouth of her vagina.
“Few,” said Herr Craftsman, “of my many clients could be considered more worthy an owner of my talents than you.” His eyes shone and his face beamed with the obvious appreciation of a connoisseur. Alison always liked a compliment, and smiled shyly back at him.
“Now to work. First we will measure the female requirement.” He turned back to his bench and picked up a beautiful veneered box bound with brass corners. This he placed on a table and with care raised the lid. The long box was lined with dark blue velvet and held in individual compartments perhaps a dozen beautifully shaped red leather dildos in ascending order of size. Herr Craftsman repeated the display with another identical box. This however, contained similar objects that differed in having exaggerated heads at the end of each of their lengths.
“We have, young lady, two choices in this department. First that of size and then between the one of even diameter and the one with the full head. The only way to choose is to try, otherwise I have found that sometimes a woman’s eyes are bigger than, shall we say her, stomach. May I also hasten to assure you that though these samples have experienced many trials, they are always cleansed most thoroughly with surgical spirit.
“The leather from which they are made, and from which the one I make for you will be made, is of the finest quality, as soft as the place it must enter and yet almost totally waterproof. I fill the sheath with my own preparation, which permits some flexibility and feels most natural. You may also consider if you require the device only to fill the vagina or to be more dramatic and pass through the mouth of the cervix and beyond. You may also have one fitted to enter your rear passage as well.”
Alison was by now very wet and very open. This almost clinical talk on such an erotic theme was deeply stimulating. Her hole, in fact holes, craved to be filled by the objects that she saw laid out so invitingly before her. It was like a sweet shop and she a child with pennies to spend. What to try first?
“I think I would like a head on the item, and I think that I would like one for my bum as well.” She hesitated, hovering over the boxes.
“Take one,” encouraged Herr Craftsman.
Her hand reached out and moved over the box, back and forth. Then, with decision, it alighted upon and removed a substantial dildo. Its leather was so inviting, warm to the touch and softer even than her cashmere. She brought it instinctively to her nose and breathed deeply of its rich smell. Her mind also visualized the pink, wet and hairy slits that this had already entered and she trembled at the thought of driving this hard monster in, pushing and twisting it as the recipient thrust back and twisted, skewered upon its attack. She moved it away from her nose, and as it passed her mouth her tongue licked out to caress the large round end.
Now oblivious of Herr Craftsman, and yet aroused by the audience, she brought its head down to meet her own cunt. To make the entry possible she arched her hips forward, bending and opening her legs.
This movement had the effect of opening her hole, and as she drew the soft leather between her lips for the first time, letting the liquids wet it, the need to plunge it in became very strong. Still, as though in a greeting, she let it rub against her clitoris and this touch sent its own messages throughout her body.
Then it was in. At first she felt that she had been too greedy. As her hand and arm forced it in and upward, she felt herself stretched as she had never been stretched before. She could feel it pass the inner gate with just a little pain and then it was onward. As only the last few inches of the massive device were left as a bright red circle framed in the distended mouth, she was aware of Herr Craftsman close by her.
“May I make some checks, young lady?” he said in his professional voice.
“Yes,” agreed Alison.
He bent his head as she held her position, standing thrust forward with her legs well parted. She felt his hand touching and testing, then his skilled craftsman’s fingers sliding between the dildo and the wall of her vagina, increasing the stretch significantly. Then the fingers were withdrawn and the hand moved with moist fingers up over her mound to the area of her womb. Here it pressed, just above the pubic bone. She was aware of his other hand on the end of the dildo and then its movement of the device, so that it pushed out hard against her skin. Still holding her in this way, he looked up at her face.
“If you were an adventurous girl, you could in my considered opinion get the greatest pleasure from the next size up. You are young and very accommodating. This one you would soon become comfortable with; the next size would always provide a challenge.”
Without waiting for an answer, he gently pulled the dildo from her body with little twisting motions that thrilled her. Accepting that the matter had already been decided, he turned and placed the used dildo, now wet and gleaming, on a sheet of plastic and selected the next in line. There was a decided jump in the increments of size and this one looked quite impossible – more a device of punishment than of pleasure.
He handed it to Alison. “Go on, you will learn to enjoy it – I even worship it. I know these things; it is my trade to know women’s needs.”
Alison took it and tried not to look. She knew that this too had been elsewhere and if another had been able to accept it then she would not be beaten and not admit defeat in front of this old man. It was worse and there was pain, but she had never contemplated the incredible feeling of being filled in this way; she could not restrain a gasp. She had not made this journey to this place, to this man, to find anything less than the total experience. This was an essential part of it, this size was to be hers. There were even larger ones in the box. Who they were for she dared not think. Herr Craftsman again went through his methodical examination. She cried out a little as his fingers distended, probed and searched.
“This is yours my dear, of this there is no doubt. In the future, when you are in your private world, you will thank me.”
Alison believed that she would.
She sat back on the chair after removing the monster, to regain something of her composure. The old man searched for another item and produced a tube of proprietary genital lubricant. He now selected a red dildo – this one was quite small – and handed it to Alison.
“For the other hole, it is better that it is not too large, so that it can move freely as your body moves; this will give much more sensation.”
He passed her the tube, and she anointed the small shaft with gel and, standing up again, she bent forward so that she could reach round and insert it.
“Don’t lose it,” cautioned Herr Craftsman. She smiled at this remark.
“Does it fit well?” he asked.
“Oh yes, very well,” answered Alison. The strange and pleasurable sensation of anything pushed into her bottom was always a little joy.
She withdrew it and placed it alongside the other two on the plastic sheet.
“This one is best for your partners,” he said, selecting a headed one of medium size. Unless you have a specific situation in mind, this size is usually universally acceptable in both positions. As it will be the active device, it is best if it is not too large, as men especially become frightened.” A smile broke on his face for the first time as he made his no doubt often repeated joke.
He now picked up both a well-worn pad and an even more worn tape measure, together with a felt pen.
“Stand up very straight if you will, and part your legs. Lift your arms out from your sides and please keep very still so that my measurements will be exact.”
Standing as she was instructed, the measurement was a further stimulating experience, for she could feel her juices trickling down her inside thigh and could smell her body even over that of the leather. Sweat, sex and leather made a heady perfume, she thought.
He was making little marks with the felt pen and running the tape across her skin. He missed nowhere. Even her hard nipples were marked and measured, the curve of her breast, the distension of her buttocks, down between to find her anus and on again to find her hole, marked for measurement in both cases by the insertion of his finger a little way.
When he was finished, he told her in a matter-of-fact way that she could get dressed. Alison was exhausted. She had been held at a pitch of excitement for quite some time and now felt as though she had been taken.
The selection of the harness style was undertaken from illustrations in a well-thumbed and dog-eared book. The different styles had been modelled by a blonde, attractively figured young woman, but indifferently photographed to create that slightly tacky feel to the images. Alison selected, with considerable and forceful advice, a harness that started with her head, which was to be encased in a box of leather straps. Provision was made for a gag to be incorporated if desired. A tight and high leather collar would encase her neck and then the straps would encircle her breasts, leaving the ends exposed. Dramatic and attractive straps fanned out and down her body, first to restrain the waist and then to lace across the curve of her womb, at the base of her mound. The male dildo would be directly mounted over her clitoris. Also positioned here was a special rubber pad with a cluster of little fingers that would press upon her button as she exerted her own force of the thrust. A wide and parting strap would pass between her legs, holding both her own internal devices. Movable fastenings ensured that these would be given some motion as the male dildo was used.
Alison could not wait to have this wonder in her possession, though it was some months before she received a small engraved card to advise her that it was ready for collection. The difference now was that the address for collection was quite different and the time was in the evening.
She arrived at a very select block of Paris apartments and took the caged lift to the third floor. The brass fitted door was opened by an attractive and smartly dressed woman.
“Alison Kwik?” she enquired with a French accent, and Alison answered that she was.
She was ushered into a small reception room of some quality. Herr Craftsman stood up to greet her. He now wore a moderately respectable suit.
“Ah, my dear young lady, such a pleasure to meet you again. Part of the substantial sum that my clients pay for my work is to provide them with an initial trial – should, of course, they so wish. Always I find that a little guidance is needed in the fitting of the harness and it is important to me at the level of satisfaction at which I desire to work that they feel that all is satisfactory and comfortable. This cannot be achieved without the practical use of the garment. Therefore, Madame Visage” – he gestured towards the woman who had opened the door – “helps me in this matter, in return of course for a professional fee for her special services.”
Alison looked with now greater interest at the woman. She was perhaps in her middle thirties, with a slim and well-proportioned body. Her high cheek-bones, restrained dress and hair in a tight bun all gave her a look of refinement and quality edged with a touch of the severe.
“Are you happy with this arrangement?” the woman asked Alison.
“Oh yes, I am pleased to go along with whatever Herr Craftsman has arranged.”
“Then please follow me,” said Madame Visage and opened the door into the next room. The old man and Alison followed.
The room was a softly lit old Paris boudoir, rich warm and private. Alison saw immediately, laid across a divan, the object of the occasion – the red leather harness.
The woman took charge of the situation.
“Perhaps, Ms Kwik, you would be so good as to undress, so that Herr Craftsman and I can fit you with his special garment.”
As with the first encounter, Alison felt detached and propelled along by the confidence and experience of others to whom this seemed routine. It was exciting, this surrender of choice. Tonight she had worn a dress, stockings and court shoes. While both the old man and the woman watched, almost impatiently, she undressed, placing her clothes with care and trying to retain some dignity. Even when she had removed her little silk top and matching knickers, she was still faced with the removal of her stockings and belt. This time she was completely nude, without even pop socks. The woman appraised her with a moment’s detachment and then picked up the harness. It was quite beautiful, complex and even intimidating. The red leather organs that were intended for her looked even bigger than she remembered them to have been.
“We will proceed with the fitting, if you please. Stand leg-parted and arms out, and I will do the rest,” instructed Madame Visage. Alison complied and Herr Craftsman sat down a little way away, no doubt to watch with craftsman’s pride the demonstration of his work. The harness detached into two halves and Madame Visage started by fitting the top. Alison felt the initiate feeling of being encased as the straps were fastened around her head. The neck collar was drawn tight and she felt the way that it forced her head to stay erect. The woman worked quickly and with experience, the many little buckles fastened with ease in her nimble fingers. Alison could feel her torso being encased. Her breasts rose and were divided to point out to the sides. She saw how stiff the nipples had become and all around her was the smell of leather and the subtle perfume of Madame Visage. The woman now tightened the corset-like structure beneath Alison’s breasts.
“Take a deep breath in and hold it, please,” requested Madame Visage.
Alison complied and she felt the woman swiftly tighten the straps across her back so that now her waist was drastically pulled in.
Madame now reached for a tube of lubricant and methodically coated each of the organs.
“This will not be comfortable at first, so just relax. There will be a little pain but it will pass.”
Alison did her best to ready herself for the entry of the large dildo. When it came there was no kindness in the entry used by Madame, but Alison knew that she would have enjoyed doing the same. Even so, a little cry, which must have given some satisfaction to the woman, passed her lips. It was worked in until Alison felt as though she would part with the filling force. The one in her behind was nothing like as bad and it slipped in to give her some pleasure.
Her crutch was forced wide open by both the device and the width of the harness. While the woman fastened and pulled up the lower section to the torso section, Alison was able to look down and see the large red dildo for the first time, erect and in front of her, curving up from the base of her mound like men she had so often seen. She was also aware that, at every tremor of the long organ in front of her, the rubber fingers at its base stirred her clitoris in a definite and stimulating way.
The woman now directed Alison’s attention to a full-length ornate mirror against the wall. What she saw reflected was a remarkable and totally erotic sight that fired her in a way she had never experienced before. The muscles of her vagina started to work involuntarily on the distending solid leather within it and her sphincter tightened and gripped its plug. As she looked at herself, she became uncontrollably aroused. With difficulty, she turned sideways and saw pointed breasts and the penis in front of the thrusting buttocks. Her head was encased and warrior-like – indeed the totality was wickedly war-like.
Without further ceremony, Madame Visage, in the same flat tone, invited Alison to try the harness. As though she had done it a hundred times before – and perhaps she had – Madame Visage bent herself over the raised end of the divan. She reached backward and in one movement swept up the length of her dress and tucked it beneath her. Above her black seamed stockings, Alison could clearly see that Madame wore no knickers. The stockinged legs parted invitingly and were surmounted by a beautiful full bottom of firm white flesh. The legs ended in expensive, black, long-heeled shoes. Alison was taken aback by this display, for it was totally unexpected. Herr Craftsman watched from his seat.
“Do not hold back; please go ahead and try your new toy,” came the voice of Madame Visage. “Either hole is permissible – whatever is your fancy – or both.”
Alison moved forward, feeling the difficulty of walking, feeling the rub on her button driving her to greater heights. The dildo in front of her gleamed with the lubricant already rubbed on it.
She moved between the parted legs so that she was over the raised bottom. She could see the little hole clearly and in the darker place at the top of Madame’s thighs she could see the hairy and wet rear of the vulva. Frightened but determined, Alison gripped the dildo in one hand and supported her weight with the other. She entered its round head into the soft lips that were presented. Then, remembering how the dildo had been forced into her own place, she thrust into the woman with all her force. She was successful in extracting a groan. With each successive thrust, she gained even more response. She held the woman’s hips with her hands and moved her own with all her force. Though she was fucking, she was also being fucked and she could not restrain the mounting orgasm that was fed and driven by so many methods of stimulation in her own body.
When she had come, she withdrew and released the woman. She stood trembling and instantly wondering what it would be like to use on a man. The expression on her face was all the real thanks that Herr Craftsman needed. This work was so much more rewarding in his old age than the use of his supreme talents on the horses in old Vienna. The smell of this sexual young woman, which floated across the room, blended with his new leather. He was content.