As Helen sat back in bed waiting for John to finish in the bathroom she felt pleased with how things had turned out. The embassy had got her back to the UK with no problem, John and her parents had been waiting for her at the ferry terminal. She still had her flat as with no trace of her body, the unemployment insurance had kicked in, paying her mortgage while she was away. Similarly no proof that she had died had made her employers reluctant to replace her outright and only a series of temps had covered her work, though her boss, Mr. Brydon, had said that her first business trip abroad was her last, if it took her nine months to get home each time she went. Helen agreed with him, the whole incident had made her cautious, and she dared not think how much worse it could have been. So, it was all there as she had left it. Though her best friend Alison had told her that John had started seeing other women five months after Helen had disappeared, she did not blame him, and it was clear none of those relationships had lasted, and it was his bed she was now sitting in.
Helen stroked her hands across her hair. The cut that she had had in France had grown out. Everyone seemed too happy to see her to notice any changes. She was a bit apprehensive about her breasts, but she kept them concealed under baggy sweaters. She touched them now, slightly missing the gentle weight of the platinum bars in her nipples. She had secreted them away and planned to sell them when the dust had settled, the two rings must be worth something too. She had bought a pair of glasses like her old ones, but the lenses were plain glass, and she guessed she could pretend in a couple of months that she was having the laser correction anyway. Yes, all in all, things were back to normal.
John walked back into the bedroom, his dressing gown open, his cock already erect. They had generally only had sex on Friday evenings and the odd Saturday, and Helen had been able to put John off for a while and he had been sympathetic, like everyone was, about her being locked away in a remote French farm, blind folded, often tied up for months, as that was the tale she had told them. In fact she was rather worried what might be revealed if she let herself go during sex, what Alain had programmed into her. She was working hard to block out the whipping, the bondage, the rubber, the sleek leather and what she had done with Alain, let alone with Yvette. It all disgusted her, and she knew it was a secret she would never tell anyone.
John lent over and kissed her gently. Helen felt really stirred, she felt hungry to have John beside her, inside her. She pulled him down on to the bed, rolling him over, rolling on top of him. To John this seemed unusual for Helen, but he was not complaining, he put it down to her having so many months without sex. Helen found herself running her tongue over her boyfriend's body, lapping at his nipples, probing deep into his mouth, then straddling him, bringing his rock hard penis into her, taking charge rather than waiting for him to struggle to find the target. Helen did not realise any difference, and John was enjoying things too much for him to complain. In moments, Helen was riding John who became nothing but her toy, cupping her breasts awkwardly as Helen sat on him thrusting her soft juicy sex up and down his shaft until in an instant she stopped and her eyes closed, her mouth opened wide, her tongue wagging. The shudder that ran through Helen's body as she teased her clit to set herself off, reverberated through John and he came too. He quietly gasped, but Helen was in full flow, her shrieks of pleasure sounding amplified in the small bedroom. Spent, she fell back against John, her face resting on his naked chest. Helen had barely disengaged from her boyfriend's now limp cock before she was playing with him again, stroking, teasing, nibbling, licking like an insatiable sexual creature hungry to feed again.
"I'm tired." John said at length.
"I'm just keen to have more of you." Helen said eagerly, "It's been so long."
"Yes, well, give me a bit of time."
"Okay." Helen replied feeling a little disappointed and sat back on her side of the bed and took John's hand. In a couple of minutes, Helen knew from the change in his breathing that he had fallen asleep. Unsatisfied, Helen freed her hand and stroked at her clit, something she never did. Thoughts of buying a vibrator for the nights when John was not interested crept into her mind and felt deliciously wicked.
"So, have you settled back in alright?" Alison said sipping at her latte.
"Yes, I suppose so. Things have worked out better than I expected, I thought it would be harder to get back into it. On the ferry back all I could think was that they'd have given my job to someone else and the bank would have repossessed my flat."
"What about you and John?"
"It's good." Helen responded, but her eyes were on her coffee.
"Only good, I thought you'd be all over each other after nine months apart."
"Well I am, but maybe I want a bit more than we had before. I think the time changed me."
"You can't spend nine months tied up by strangers, in France, without it having some effect."
"Yes, it's the effects I'm worried about."
"Like what?" Alison asked with true curiosity.
"Well, John says I talk in my sleep in French."
"But you were no good at languages at school."
"No, I wasn't, and it was a good thing those businessmen in Germany spoke such good English, but I wonder if I somehow took it in. The guys watching over me used to have small portable TV, sometimes a radio. Listening to that probably sank in somehow, but it only comes out when I'm asleep."
"Is that a problem? I'd have thought John would find it sexy."
"No, but he keeps asking me who all these people were, Alan, Eve, Simon, names like that."
"Must be the names of the gang. I'm sure it'll all come back eventually and you'll be able to give the police useful stuff, then they'll catch them. You can't have French criminals locking up English women, they should get them over here for the court cases, you can't trust the French, they'd let them off."
"I suppose so. I just want to put it behind me and move on." Helen said.
"Well, if that's the only thing John's got to worry about then it's nothing."
"No, it's not just that."
"What else, he's not impotent is he?"
"No." Helen laughed lightly. "It's just I want a bit more from him."
"What, a ring?"
"Possibly, but it's more in the bedroom, it's got a bit too much the same."
"Well, that's no surprise, you've been seeing him over a year, okay you had a long break, but I suppose you've just picked up where you left off."
"Yes, and I want to try new stuff." Helen said rather sheepishly. "And I went out and got a vibrator."
"Good on you girl!" Alison said with enthusiasm. "There's nothing wrong with that, every woman should have her shapely friend."
"I'm glad you think that way."
"I certainly do. Now, do you want another drink before we push on with the sales?"
"Yes, a black coffee, please." Helen asked.
"I never thought you drank coffee, I thought it was fruit teas all the way."
"It's a habit I picked up, they used to bring those huge cups of it for breakfast."
"And they didn't ask you what you liked?"
"I don't think kidnappers do that, you get what you're given."
"And cigarettes too." Alison said markedly as Helen reached into her handbag for the packet.
"They were always smoking, it must have got deep into me."
"Well, it's a good thing they didn't keep you any longer or I'd never have recognised you." Alison said cheerfully and went off to get the drinks.
"What about this?" Alison called from a rack by the wall.
Helen looked round to see Alison holding what looked like a black denim jacket. Helen left the line of sale clothes she was checking out and walked over to her friend.
"Something a bit different. I know you like denim jackets, but what about this?" As Alison lifted the jacket by its hanger, Helen could see it was cut like a denim jacket with silver metal buttons, but was in fact smooth black leather.
As Helen came took the jacket from Alison she felt her heart racing, she was excited as she ran her fingers over the smooth leather and knew she had to have it.
"It's lovely." Helen said distantly.
"Well, try it on then."
Helen shed her current jacket and eased into the leather one. The way it held her, the slight creak and the rich aroma all stirred up memories.
"I'll take it." Helen said firmly. Alison smiled, pleased that she had selected something her friend liked so much.
Helen walked to the cash desk. The shop assistant scanned in the ticket. "Have you got the jeans too?" She asked.
"Sorry, the jeans?"
"Yes, they come together, this is the price for the jacket and jeans, we have to sell them together or it mucks up the stock system. The jeans are just below the jackets. I'll hold this here, just get a pair of jeans to go with it."
Helen looked around for Alison, but she had obviously moved on to another part of the store. Helen found the row of the particular leather jackets again and as the assistant had said, the jeans hung on the row below, in the shadow of the jackets. As Helen looked along the row she realised they were all leather too, and something within her tingled. She ran her finger along the smooth black leather until she found a pair her size. She took them down. Like the jacket they were cut as if from denim, but were smooth black leather. Helen walked back to the cash desk like she was entranced, holding back suppressed urges that were welling within her. She knew she had to ease her body into these leathers as soon as she could.
Helen paid and found Alison.
"Did you know you get a pair of leather jeans with those jackets?" Alison asked.
"Yes, I found that out."
"You got them?"
"Certainly."
"Good on you. Well, you wanted something different, and John's going to love seeing that shapely bum of yours in black leather, I'm sure."
"Right," said Helen with determination, "I need some boots." She marched from the store, now with Alison struggling to keep up.
"Are you coming to bed?" John called.
Helen said nothing. She walked sensuously into the bedroom, naked bar a silver necklace and the shiny knee-length boots she had bought that afternoon. She gently teased her nipples again to ensure they were erect, then slowly began swaying, running her hands gently up and down her body in the way she hoped John would soon be doing. She kept her fingers away from her newly shaved snatch, but already her clit was hard and the lips to her sex were softening.
Finally John looked up from his book. "What are you doing? Why have you got those boots on?"
Helen felt a little disappointed, but said nothing. She walked briskly over to John and silenced him with a finger to his lips and then with her own lips and tongue. She hopped on to the bed, straddling John, sensing his rising cock through the blanket that covered it. She tore at his pyjama top, sending the buttons flying and fed deeply on the flesh of his chest and nipples, licking and biting. John sat rigidly, wanting to protest at the destruction of his pyjama top and wincing at the small bites from Helen. Now she kicked back the sheets with her booted feet and straddled John again, pushing her breasts into his face expecting his tongue to work on them. He did little but nuzzle them. Exasperated Helen moved faster through her planned routine. She grabbed both of John's wrists in one hand and thrust them up the head board, fortunately for what she planned, it was a trellis. She reached down for the silk scarf she had concealed earlier and lashed his wrists in a surprisingly expert manner to the headboard.
"What the ...?" John looked indignant. "Helen, what on Earth are you up to? Are you feeling alright?"
Helen just smiled naughtily and pressed one hand over his mouth, she was keen he did not spoil it; did not sap her resolve with his questions. With her spare hand behind her, she began slowly masturbating him, hoping that the pleasure would shut him up. His eyes seemed to indicate he was easing into it. Helen released his mouth and slid down his body, pushing off his pyjama trousers as she lid, flicking her tongue to indicate what she was going to do next. John wrestled against his restraints.
"Helen, stop this. What's got into you?" He asked in frustration. His thoughts that she was just trying out suggestions from some women's magazine faded, replaced by a growing concern that she was acting out something her kidnappers had done to her or had forced her to do.
John shook as Helen's tongue lapped around his cock as if it were an ice cream cone. He seemed irritated that his body was enjoying what was increasingly concerning him. He felt Helen's tongue lapping at his balls then back up the shaft of his penis.
"No, Helen, stop this, you are sick."
"I thought men liked nothing more than a blow job. Sit back and relax."
"Helen, stop this, it's not you, someone's screwed with your head. You need help."
"You're the one who'll need help in a minute." Helen said, trying to still speak seductively against John's rising complaints.
"No, stop, Helen."
Helen sat back on her haunches. She knew 'no' meant 'no' and there was no way she could persist if John was that unhappy. She could see that his concerns were already rendering his cock flaccid, despite her sitting there with her shapely, sexy body and all that it could do for him on offer.
"Okay, maybe I took things too far." Helen conceded.
"Too far? Helen, you've come in here naked except for a pair of boots, and tied me up. What were you thinking? Who's been putting ideas in your head."
"No-one." Helen snapped defensively.
"Okay, I know these women's magazines suggest all sorts of things, but that's just to sell more copies, not for people to carry out."
"What's so scary? A little light bondage, some oral sex, I thought you'd like it, now you're beginning to sound like an American." Helen did feel disappointed. Deflated she sat at the foot of the bed, wondering where her well-thought out plan had gone wrong.
"Helen, don't you think you ought to see someone? This kidnapping, it's going to have affected you. You're not the Helen I used to know."
"Yes, I am, you just didn't look hard enough." Helen said angrily and stormed from the bedroom.
"Helen, Helen." John called helplessly. "Can you come and untie me."
Helen ignored him for the moment. It would do him no harm to sit there getting chilly for a while. She had been so hot for him, but now was feeling cold shouldered and disappointed. She took her overnight bag into the spare room. She unzipped her boots and pulled on socks and then dug into her bag for the new leathers, that she had intended to be a treat for John when she dressed the next morning, or as she had hoped, he had dressed her. She slipped on the scarlet silk panties and bra, then the black suede scoop top she had bought. It showed off the top of her cleavage and the chain of the silver necklace sitting nicely between. Then she eased into the leather jeans, loving how they slid up her legs and gently cupped her bum. She slipped on her boots, concealing them beneath the jeans before tossing on the leather jacket. For a moment she stopped to look at herself in the mirror. She traced the stitching with her fingers and touched the shiny steel buttons, before running both hands over her smooth leathered thighs. Ready, Helen walked back to the bedroom. John had fallen quiet. He looked startled for an instant as if he feared some intruder had taken Helen's place. She leant over him, letting her leather jacket brush against his naked chest as she did; she was keen for him to know what he was missing. Helen had quickly untied the scarf and tucked it into her bag. As she stepped back, her leather gently creaking with every move she made, she saw that John's take on the whole thing was different than hers. Rather than as she had hoped, that he would look like he knew he was a fool for turning down such a good offer, instead he appeared like a man who had escaped some dangerous incident. For the first time, Helen realised that she could not cope with a man who found her sexuality such a turn off. She could accept his doubts, but not even being willing to try was a real disappointment. Helen walked away and glanced for the last time from the door, but John was not looking at her, he was just rubbing his wrists and searching for his pyjamas, apparently now unconcerned about what she was going to do next.
Helen sat in her own flat, relaxing on the sofa, running her fingers over her leather jeans. She felt frustrated. She had got back from John's thirty minutes before and was too hyped up to get to sleep so she had sat in the living room, wondering what to do next. Now she felt her unsatisfied sexual urges reviving and she knew she had to do something about them. A little self-consciously she went into the bedroom and dug in her wardrobe for the vibrator she had bought the week before. Next to it was the small box in which she had put the studs and rings she had brought back from France. She took it out too. Helen returned to the living room. She sat back on the sofa and now rather than the vibrator, it was the jewellery which interested her. She opened the box and took out the small platinum bars that had sat in her nipples. Feeling rebellious she pulled up her top and teasing the nipples from the silk bra cups she inserted one, then the other with little trouble. The weight in her nipples felt good, she felt a tingle growing within her. She took out the two rings and slipped them back on her hand as she had found them. Helen felt the sensation growing stronger, it was partly sexual, but it had other elements in it too. For some reason Helen had the rocks disappearing beneath a rising current.
Helen walked back to her bedroom and stood in front of her wardrobe mirror. She loved the way the light caught her leathers. She wondered what to do next, thoughts coursed through her mind, she could see Alain, the house, the clothes, herself. She could see herself in her mind, but something was wrong, it was as if she was looking at herself through a mesh, a net curtain. She felt an increasing urge to cut through the mesh.
Helen walked up to the mirror and gazed into her reflected eyes. She knew she had to say something, something that would release her from uncertainty. She made a choice between warring sensations and knew instantly that now it was a choice she could not reverse.
"I am Helene Trenard." She said in French. As she did, her body shuddered in an orgasm. She felt a tidal wave of thoughts, desires, memories, swept away all that Helen Jefferies had been, obliterating those thoughts, replacing them with what was now her true identity, that of Helene Trenard.
As Helene came closer to her house, she clicked off the radio. She had been following a discussion of new legislation being considered in Paris. She saw a couple of hikers by the roadside looking in confusion at their map. Helene slowed down and pulled over. This road was always quiet, she expected they would be there for quite a while before another car passed and she had more than enough time to stop and help.
Helene lowered the window of her hire car. "Hello, can I help?" She asked, her accent sounding local, with hints of Paris sophistication. She lifted her sunglasses to appear more friendly. Both the man and his wife were rather sunburnt. They were kitted out in walking boots, with light rucksacks on their back. Their baggy clothes and short trousers contrasted with the sleek shiny black leather that coated most of Helene.
"Ah, hello. Do you speak English?" The man asked, in strangely accented French.
For a moment Helene felt that she should answer that of course she did, but she preferred to be honest. "Only a little." She replied in French. She guessed they were trying to find the ruins that were not located far from here.
"These." The man said, pointing at the map. She had been right.
Helene held up her gloved hands. "Ten kilometres." She said slowly, flashing open both hands to indicate ten. Then she twisted to point back along the road she had come. They had to turn at the church. She crooked her hand to indicate a left turn, then flashed five fingers.
"I think she's saying ten miles up here, then five miles on the left." The man said to his wife.
Helene repeated the charade, throwing in the sign of the cross to indicate the church. The man seemed to have got it. He and his wife smiled, giving Helene the thumbs-up. She waved it as nothing and replaced her sunglasses. In moments she was powering away and in minutes she was turning into the driveway. She was glad to see her home again. As she parked the car, she saw Yvette emerge from the house. Helene realised she had missed their times together, no-one could eat her out like Yvette, though Alain certainly had a style and tricks of his own.
"Madame." Yvette said politely.
Helene just stepped up to her and wrapped her hand into the small of Yvette's back and kissed her passionately, entwining their tongues pleasurably.
"My God, it's good to be back. Is monsieur at home?" Helene asked.
"Yes, madame. Shall I tell him you're here."
"Where is he?" Helene was worried her plans would be disrupted.
"In the conservatory, reading."
"Right leave him there for now. In forty-five minutes tell him that I'm in our bedroom."
"Yes, madame."
Helene hurried in and up the stairs to her and her husband's bedroom. She was quickly stripped and showered, spraying herself with her favourite perfume. As she glanced down at her breasts, the platinum riding in them, she felt a moment of concern. What about her life in Britain, what about her flat, what would John, her family, her friends, her boss ... The thought had faded, what had she been thinking about? A holiday in Britain? No she did not fancy it, Helene thought, no, Crete, that was where they were heading.
Helene hung up her new leather jacket and trousers on a spare hanger and put the boots beside her many other pairs. Helene picked out a red leather halter neck dress, its shade the same as her lipstick. The dress showed her bare cleavage to the best and barely covered her shapely bum. She broke up the sleek red lines with a gold chain belt around her waist. She matched the dress with red leather opera gloves, stretching to her elbows. Over the dress she wore an ankle-length red leather coat, as she loved the way it swished as she moved. Finally she slipped on a pair of red leather ankle boots, smooth and shiny. Helene dipped once more into her wardrobe and pulled out the red leather whip, twisting it back and forth in her gloved hands as she went and sprawled on the bed.
Helene sat, running her hands over the dress: leather over leather. She glanced at the clock and on cue Alain emerged. He was dressed in a light white linen shirt and dark blue silk trousers. As she stepped through the door, surprised, Helene's whip shot out, catching him around the arm and she reeled him in, pulling him on to the bed. There was no escape, as in seconds this red leather creature had her legs wrapped around him pulling him inexorably towards her hungry sex. She tore off his clothes until he rode naked on soft red leather, heated by its wearer whose lips and tongue found every excitable part of his body until he was shuddering with excitement. As she slid up her skirt to reveal her naked pussy, ready to receive his rock hard cock, she pulled his ear close to her.
"I'm here to stay." Helene whispered passionately.
"I know, my love." Alain said, the pleasure and passion clear in his voice.
In moments Helene had forgotten why she needed to say that. Why would it be otherwise? Her life here was the only one she knew, and it was one she loved. Helene felt the tip of her husband's cock gently touching the lips of her sodden pussy and she knew she had more important things to think about. Helene pulled him deep inside her.