The House of the Enhanced Venus
Copyright © 2021, Dave Potter
Chapter 5
An hour later and Stephen finds himself waiting in the reception hall of the Hotel Clarendon. Millie’s sister – whose name is Sophie – is still at the reception desk, but Stephen is waiting for another lady.
After his incredible experience in the Moorish Suite, Millie had taken Stephen back to his room where he had bathed and prepared himself for his next House of the Enhanced Venus experience.
“You have kissed a girl you fancy, now you must take another belle out for a stroll,” Millie had said cryptically. “Be ready for three in reception.”
It was now five past three.
The doors opened and Millie reappeared with another lady. Who she was, Stephen did not know, for his date was someone that he had never clasped eyes on before. Even so, he knew that he would enjoy being with her.
She was stunning.
She was wearing a navy-blue walking outfit of the highest fashion, with an expansive bustle of ruched satin diving into a minute hourglass waist which, at its narrowest point, rose vertically for some two inches or more at a circumference that Stephen guessed to be no more than fifteen inches. Above that, it blossomed out into an impressive bosom which strained against the gown that contained it, creating a remarkable contrast with what lay below. This bosom rose and fell with each laboured breath, a breath ragged no doubt, due to the extreme compression of the waist.
The dress, in line with its naval colouring, bore a sailor’s collar at the back, but at the front it was cut slightly low, the v-shaped aperture above the necktie of the collar revealing the uppermost portion of a doubtless considerable cleavage, the mounds of the enormous breasts forming two distinct ridges beneath the neck. But what fascinated Stephen more was a choker of matching navy ribbon around that neck, in the centre of which was a white rose, the petals of which fluttered each time the lady drew breath.
Above that swanlike neck was presented a face of angelic, almost doll-like beauty, with wide cornflower blue eyes bearing an almost surprised expression and pink rosebud lips. Her blonde hair was worn in ringlets which cascaded about her, framing that delightful visage, decorated with navy blue ribbons which complimented the gown.
Most notable of all though, were her arms for, from the front, these were seemingly absent. This was because they were folded, rather unnaturally, behind her, rising vertically from above the bustle until their palms rested together, as if in prayer, clad in white kid leather, behind her naval collar. All in all, she was a vision of feminine beauty, delicateness and helplessness and, despite having erupted only an hour earlier after his memorable first embrace with a woman, Stephen found his passions rising and his rod stiffening once again within his trousers.
“Stephen, this is Miss Baker, Miss Clarissa Baker, and she is to be your belle for the afternoon. You have embraced a young lady, now you should take one out courting and, in doing so, learn how to handle a real lady, a Lady of Leisure. My suggestion, knowing your interest in architecture and history, is to show your belle the delights of the British Museum which, after all, is only a street away.”
A Lady of Leisure. Of course, Stephen knew about the Leisure Ideal, about those ladies who demonstrated to the world their wealth and dependence by voluntarily binding their arms into uselessness. And he had even seen such ladies, including that very morning at Euston when he had noted one being helped out of a compartment in the same first-class carriage that he had been travelling in. But none that he had witnessed had ever been so beautiful as Miss Baker who was surely no older than himself and was more perfect in his eyes than any other female he had ever set eyes upon.
And to think, he would be escorting her!
“Now,” explained Millie, “I shall remain nearby in case you require assistance, playing the role of a lady’s maid or companion as it were, but I want you to try and do this alone. Firstly, you’ll need this.” She handed him a leather collar in white with a silver chain leading from it. “All Ladies of Leisure are led on leashes in public although it is more for display than performing any real purpose. It demonstrates your mastery and ownership and Clarissa’s total dependence and subservience to you. Please fit it below her choker and neck rose.”
Stephen approached his date and did as Millie had commanded, Clarissa smiling at him slightly, but otherwise entirely passive. As he leaned in towards her neck to fasten the collar, he was fascinated and intrigued by the fluttering petals of the white rose and astonished to feel a flow of warm air on his hand when it was close to the flower, almost as if the girl were breathing through it rather than her nose. Seeing his confusion, Millie spoke, “You are puzzled by the rose, right?”
“Yes, rather. The air flows about it as if…”
“… as if she breathes through it?”
“Yes, precisely.”
“Then you are correct. Clarissa here has undergone an operation called a tracheostomy which means that she now breathes through a hole in her neck rather than her nose or mouth which are reserved for other purposes. The rose covers the hole, making it aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Many of the Venuses here undergo such a procedure.”
“But why?”
“Various reasons. For Clarissa here, her fiancé desired a girl who would not bore him with inane chatter and who would not struggle to breath when he utilised her mouth for its prime purpose. Plus, I suspect, judging by the rest of her, its artificiality appealed to him.”
“Do you mean to say that she cannot speak?”
“Not a sound.”
“But that is…”
“…not unusual in high society, particularly among Ladies of Leisure. Ladies should be seen and not heard and base functions such as speech should never impede their higher purposes.”
“Which are what?”
“You shall discover soon enough, but it is uncouth to speak of such things here in the reception area.”
“And you said that other girls have this tracheostomy for different purposes?”
“Indeed they do. Layla, your Venus from but an hour earlier also underwent a tracheostomy, although you will not have noticed due to the veils that covered her neck. Her hole is decorated not by a rose, but instead a Moorish decoration in keeping with her theme in life. The purpose of her operation was connected to her lips which are so large – indeed, until three months ago she held the record for the largest lips in the world, although our own Safiyah has now beaten her to the title – that they press up against her nasal passages, blocking them entirely. Her nose is defunct, and her mouth has other purposes as you have discovered, so breathing through the neck is a necessity for her.”
Despite the horrific nature of such talk, to be rendered speechless and unable to breath like a usual human by such enhancements, Stephen felt strangely aroused by this information, and as he watched the fluttering petals of Clarissa’s white rose, his rod hardened yet further and he longed to relieve the tension.
Now though, was not the time.
“Whilst holding the leash with one hand, you must do the real work with the other. Since you are right-handed, I suggest you walk with Clarissa to your right, and you hold her leash with your left-hand. Put your right around her waist so she may lean into you for support.”
Standing next to her, Stephen’s mind went into overdrive. Her perfume filled his nostrils and her miniscule waist, which he was sure that he could encircle with both hands, was rock hard. He put his arm around her and her warmth could be felt, whilst her rising and falling breasts filled his vision.
“Try walking a few steps around the room. Clarissa, like all ladies of distinction, wears high heels. Not her highest – usually she is perched en-pointe, but as today is your first guiding experience, she has dropped down to five inches. She can only take short steps. Please, try.”
And so he did. It was slow progress, but gradually he grew in confidence, whilst Clarissa smiled at him silently. Being so close to such a sublimely beautiful creature was greater than any feeling that Stephen had ever felt before. Soon, both were confident with each other.
“I am ready to leave now,” said Stephen.
“But Clarissa is not. She requires this in public.”
‘This’ was another white rose, but unlike the one at her neck, it had a rubber bulb behind it. “It is called a Fleur de bouche,” explained Millie, “and, as the name indicates, it goes in her mouth.”
Stephen popped it in so that Clarissa’s pretty rosebud lips were hidden by the flower.
“Now, press in the centre and it will inflate.”
Stephen located the tiny unseen button, and a faint whirring sound could be heard. Gradually Clarissa’s cheeks puffed out until it seemed like they could expand no more when the whirring stopped.
And thus ready, Stephen led her out for his very first date.
They did not go far, merely to the almost-adjacent British Museum as Millie had suggested. She tagged along behind, hatted and veiled, inconspicuous behind the veritable announcement of feminine beauty and helplessness that was Miss Clarissa Baker.
The stroll was a slow one. It soon became apparent to Stephen that they would have to walk at a snail’s pace for Miss Baker’s boots, corset and other trammelling made her unsteady, slow and in need of frequent pauses to regain her breath. He minded not. Walking with her was such a sublime experience that he almost wished it would never end and she, from as much as he could make out, seemed to be enjoying it also. As they walked he revelled in the cast-iron rigidity of her waist, the feel of her hair as it brushed his face when she leaned in, the rise and fall of her bosom, the creak of her stays as she struggled for air and the fluttering of her neck rose with each breath. His eyes drunk in her pretty face, elegant posture and heaving breasts and he thought with amusement how, only hours before, he had considered all to be lost because of his rejection by Charlotte Dudson. Back then he had actually thought her to be beautiful, more desirable than all other women! Compared to Clarissa she was but a starling beside a peacock!
Inside the cavernous classical chambers of the museum, he was doubly happy. He would sit Clarissa on a bench in a corner, attach her leash to the hooks provided in the wall, and then examine a work of art or artefact that took his fancy, before, when the Egyptian figurine or Assyrian inscription had consumed his interest, he would return to that vision of silent feminine perfection, pick up her lead and continue on his way, Millie eyeing all surreptitiously from a distance.
When it came to the end of the visit, they retired to the tearooms in the open courtyard adjacent to the magnificent reading room, where he ordered tea for afternoon three which came with some exquisite cakes. Millie instructed him to remove Clarissa’s fleur de bouche by pressing the hidden button, and, when fully deflated, he took it out – placing it on a saucer he thought for tea — and fed his belle for the day titbits, delighting in how she licked his fingers clean after each nibble with her tongue which – like that of Layla earlier – seemed to have been pierced and had a stud inserted through it for some reason. Then, he fed her a little tea, dabbing her lips after each sip, after which she would smile at him gracefully and, at one point, he became so overwhelmed with desire, that he leaned over and kissed those delicious rosebud lips!
Millie smiled, leaned into him and said, “If that is how you feel, why don’t we retire to somewhere more fitting where you can truly show Clarissa your emotions?”
So, the fleur de bouche was replaced, and they set off back on their way, but this time, at the end of Bedford Place, they made a detour for the railed off gardens of Bloomsbury Square. There, in the shade of the trees, he found a bench and, after seating Clarissa, he removed her fleur de bouche as if he had been doing it for years, leaned over and kissed her again, this time, using both his hands to fully encircle her miniscule middle, an act which, when the fingers touched behind her, caused his excitement to grow even further!
He withdrew when his breath failed him and they sat there in silence, just enjoying one another’s company. But then the tranquillity was broken by a familiar voice:
“Wotcha Stephen, is that you?”
It was Hugh de Villiers, an old school chum of his who was now working in the capital at his father’s merchant bank.
“Yes, yes it is Hugh, how the bally hell are you? Fancy meeting you here!” he said, standing up to shake his friend’s hand.
“Indeed, you too! Down for the day?”
“No, a couple… on business.”
“And I can see what kind of business too! Pray tell me, who is this elegant lady?”
“Oh yes, may I introduce Miss Clarissa Baker. We are… courting.”
“I can see that for myself. Well I never, I never saw you with the ladies at school, but it seems that you were a bit of a dark horse. Ha! Ha! So, going after Ladies of Leisure are we?”
“Oh yes, they’re… scrumptious.”
“Will you be making any future wife live that way?”
Oh yes, I intend to marry a lady dedicated to the Leisure Ideal,” Stephen replied without even thinking. But then, as he reflected on the thought, he realised that it was true. Any woman he did wed, he would want her to be like Clarissa here. Quite why, he couldn’t say, but he knew for sure. Despite only having truly met a Lady of Leisure for the first time a mere hour or two earlier, he was totally sure of it.
“Well, can’t say I blame you. I’m the same, although pater’s encouraging me to go full doll. He’s having mater and her companion done and she’s not best pleased. Not sure that I want a doll though, there are drawbacks as well as the obvious advantages. We shall see.”
“Aye indeed,” replied Stephen, not having a clue what his pal was on about.
Hugh bade them goodbye, obviously taking stock of his preconceptions, having an appointment to make, and, the time having ticked onwards, after a final quick embrace, Stephen replaced Clarissa’s fleur de bouche, and made his own way too. Back in the hotel, he handed her over to the staff with a peck on the cheek, and then went to sit in the garden for half an hour until he was called for dinner.
As he was finishing his dinner, Millie came to him and sat across the table from him. “Now then, Master Butler, you have had your first kiss, and you have been on your first date. I suppose now is the time to properly seal your entry into manhood, with a consummation.”
“A… consummation?! Do you mean…?”
She nodded with a wry smile.
“Is it… Clarissa…?” he asked, hopeful.
Millie shook her head. Not now, not for the first time. As with your first kiss, it would be wrong. Clarissa was designed for another and has lain with many more. The first time must be special. For the first time, you must be complete master.”
“Who is it then?”
“Come with me.”
She took him by the hand and he rose from the table. They went up to his room and she shut the door behind him.
“Is it… you?!” he asked, astonished, but not displeased.
She laughed. “One day… maybe. You really do not listen, do you Stephen Butler? For the first time it must be special and I am not special.”
“I think you are. I think you’re very special! You’re dashed pretty and a nice person to boot.”
To his astonishment, Millie’s cheeks turned the same colour as her gown. “You don’t mean it. Not next to Layla with her lips and Clarissa with her huge breasts and bound arms and unbelievable waist.”
“All those things are special, but in a different way. Like an unreal, ‘Wow, look at that!’ way. But you are special in a more real way.”
“And you have become quite the sweet talker, Master Butler. A few hours ago, you would never have dared say such things!”
“Indeed, I would not, and that is the result of your teaching. Like I said, special!” he replied, with a wink.
She grinned. “I like you Stephen, I really do and, one day, who knows…? But now you have other matters to think of. I need you to go into that bathroom, strip completely, and get into the steaming hot bath that has been prepared for you. Then, I want you to dry yourself, slap on some scent, and come back out here where your Venus for the evening will be waiting patiently for you.
“Alright then, but before I do, one more thing.”
“What?” she asked, but before she could say any more, her had taken her face in his hands and planted a kiss on her lips. “That’s to say thank you for everything. I mean it… special girl in a real way!”
Millie blushed again and, for the first time since they’d met, had nothing to say in reply.
Chapter 6
Freshly bathed, towelled and scented, Stephen re-entered the bedroom half an hour later only to find it empty. Where was this Venus that Millie had promised him. He had kissed and he had courted; now he was to consummate. Yet no one was there! What had happened?
And yet something had happened. Lying there on the pillow was a key. A golden key. Stephen picked it up and looked at it. What was it there for? It had obviously been put there for him to find, with a purpose, but what? He looked around him, at the sash windows and the full-length mirror. At the doors to the bathroom and the corridor. Then he looked at the two wardrobes on either side of the bed. Wait a minute! Hadn’t one opened whilst the other had been locked? Could this key therefore…?
He strode over, his bath towel still around his middle, and tried the key in the lock. It fitted! He turned it and the door swung open.
When Stephen saw what it revealed he jumped back in shock, his towel falling to the floor as he did so.
It was a vase. A large ceramic vase, in the customary maroon colouring of the House of the Enhanced Venus but decorated with beautiful oriental-inspired designs of pagodas and peacocks picked out in gold. It stood on a shelf some three-feet tall, bore a handle on either side and tapered to an elegant neck lined in gold.
What was most shocking however, was that from that neck emerged a human head.
A female head.
She was beautiful, insanely so. Alabaster skin contrasted with flowing ebony locks, piercing blue eyes and a ruby red rosebud mouth. When she saw him, she smiled.
“Hello,” said the head, her voice, sweet and pure. “You must be Stephen.”
“H-h-hello,” he stuttered in reply.
She laughed, but it was a kind laugh, a laugh of understanding, not mockery. “I’m Amy,” she said. “I’d shake your hand but…”
“Oh, erm… yes, erm… are you the girl that…?”
She turned her head from side to side. “Well, I don’t see any others in here, do you? Will you get me down. I’ve been waiting a long time for this and staring at the back of a wardrobe door is awfully dull.”
“Yes, certainly, I mean, erm…”
“Take the handles and carry me over to that nice little table by the window.”
The vase was surprisingly light and, shock over, Stephen was beginning to be affected by this beautiful girl… or at least… head. his member was stiffening embarrassingly, and, to his dismay, he realised where he had misplaced his towel, and that she could see everything.
He laid her down on the table and she smiled again. “Such a pretty view,” she said, looking down at the garden, before turning back to him, “but I much prefer what is in the room. I was so afraid they would send some flabby repulsive old man, but you’re kind of cute.”
“Why, err… thank you. You’re really beautiful too.”
“I can tell you think that,” she replied, nodding towards his crotch. Stephen blushed.
“I can cover up, I should, I mean…”
“Why should you? We both know why you’re here, and me. I’m nervous, that I do confess, but excited too. It is a big night in a girl’s life after all.”
Stephen was surprised. “What?! Is it your first time too?!”
“Yes. We will both learn something tonight. However, to do that, you’ll need to get me out of this dashed pot. At the back, there’s a clasp. Unhook it.”
Stephen found the tiny golden clasp and undid it. As if by magic, the pot, which turned out not to be ceramic at all, but instead some sort of moulded plastic, swung upon to reveal a padded, silk-lined interior in which Amy was nestled.
Or at least her torso was, for she had no arms and legs!
Deprived of the support, she wobbled and started to fall. Stephen caught her, the warm, smooth flesh of her buttocks squishing into his hands, causing his cock to go into overdrive. Never before had he seen a woman naked and never before had he touched the bum of a female, and now… it was all in the palms of his hands!
Amy let out a sigh of pleasure and nestled her head against his. Her hair was fine and silky. She turned and craned her neck, her lips puckered for a kiss.
They embraced, a sweet, steady embrace. Not wildly erotic as with Leila in the Moorish Suite, but tender and full of emotion.
Wordlessly, he walked over to the bed and laid her gently on the sheets. Her body was pale and perfect. Where her limbs should have been were just rounded shoulders and hips, smooth and faultless, no scar to be seen. Her buttocks were round and smooth from fore to aft, and her shoulders held no appendages to compete or diminish her chest. She was exposed, a defenceless peach extracted from its shell.
It took Stephen a moment to realize his words were failing him.
“Were you born this way?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. But I am this way now. Lie with me, Stephen.”
Her helplessness and vulnerability excited him. He lay beside her, her warmth flowing into his own, his complete body cupping her truncated form. They kissed again and then, slowly and carefully, he climbed on top of her and positioned himself over her moist and waiting slit. “Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded and he entered gently, the sensation, the intimacy, the pleasure more than he had ever dreamt of. She gave a little cry as he pushed through the hymen and made her a woman.
What followed, I leave you, dear reader, to imagine for yourself.
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