Tom Benson Creative Writer and Artist
Tom Benson           Creative Writer                                      and Artist

Chapter 2 - The White Room

Sunday 1st April 2007

Day One

Before opening his eyes, Nick became aware of a sweet fragrance, and also the need to get to the bathroom. Why was he having thoughts of Kirsten becoming a sex kitten? He lay still, recalling a dream about doing a whole range of new things with her – and the sex was amazing. Kirsten was amazing.


He remained on his back for a moment, enjoying his thoughts, and then opened his eyes and got up onto his elbows. He turned slowly to take in his surroundings, which made him more confused than he was about his dreams. The walls had white wallpaper with an embossed gold floral design. It looked expensive.


The door was white, and so too was the furniture. There was a large dresser with a triple dresser mirror in the centre, a white wardrobe and a small chest of drawers. The full-length pedestal mirror, standing in the centre of one wall had a gold frame. Fitted to the ceiling were two small devices. One looked like a grille and the other a half-sphere, like a security sensor.


In keeping with the decor and furniture, all of which had shining brass handles, there was a fully-fitted deep-pile carpet, in white. Nick swung his legs out from under the heavy duvet and sat on the edge of the double bed. He noted the ceiling-to-floor drapes were white with a fine red and gold design. A glass of clear liquid was on the bedside cabinet.


The urge to lose some excess fluids was overwhelming. Nick slid from the bed and stood, but instead of heading to the bedroom door, he noticed an open door near the large mirror. He walked across to find a smart en-suite facility.


Nick stood listening to the trickling sound of relief and looked around at the large, immaculate room. Once again, everything was white, but here the fittings were gleaming chrome. There was a marble effect on the flooring, which had strands of red and gold in the design. It was neither carpet nor tiles but felt warm underfoot. Nick was tired, and couldn’t remember the name of the material.


He yawned as he looked down and gave himself a shake to finish his urgently needed piss. Absentmindedly, he washed his hands, dried them on the fleecy white hand towel which hung over a chrome rail, and then returned to bed.


Nick tasted pineapple on his lips and vaguely recalled Kirsten adding special powder to fight his travel sickness. He lifted the glass from the bedside cabinet and sniffed the contents. He drained it when he realised it was water. For a moment, he considered opening the long drapes or the bedroom door. Knowing his location was not as important as the need for rest.


As he lay down, Nick recalled drinking fruit juice, and that got him wondering where they had been going. He closed his eyes and remembered waking in the dark during a car journey. There were a manor house and a gravel driveway at some point.  A few seconds later he was asleep again.




Nick woke up, and once again his senses detected pleasant aromas. He licked his lips and looked around before sitting up. Unlike earlier, he was fully awake, and his thoughts raced as his eyes scanned the room.


He sat up in the large bed. It had a white duvet, and the room was predominantly white, including the carpet. There was white tiling on the walls of an adjoining room, which for some reason prompted memories of chrome fittings and clinical cleanliness.


It occurred to get out of bed and explore the place, but then Nick noticed a glass of water on the bedside cabinet. He stared at the glass and remembered drinking water. He hated the side-effects that travel sickness medication had on him, but he’d slept.


Nick experienced déjà vu as he lifted the glass. He sipped the water and let the fresh liquid wash around his mouth before he swallowed. As he placed the glass down again, the bedroom door opened.


“I see you’ve finally come back to life.” The visitor was an attractive woman. “My name is Heather.”


Nick leaned back on his elbows. His eyes opened wide, and his lips parted. Heather was in her mid-thirties, and at least 6ft tall. When she turned to close the door, her long brunette ponytail swished from side to side. A narrow band of black skirt showed below the hem of her short white lab coat. Thin black seams ran straight down the back of perfect legs and disappeared into shining black high heels.


Nick acted like a startled rabbit in headlights when his visitor turned to face him. High-arched eyebrows, hazel eyes, and long dark lashes gave Nick a warm feeling inside. When she spoke again, it brought Nick’s gaze to her sensuous ruby lips.


“It’s time to shed some light on the situation,” Heather said and strode to the nearest set of drapes. She gave a gentle tug on a cord, and the heavy material parted silently to let in natural light. Heather walked around the bed to the other drapes. As she walked, her unbuttoned coat opened, to show a white blouse and short black skirt.


Nick was feasting his eyes on Heather’s attributes when she reached the second window. She tugged a cord, and the room became even brighter. Nick slid down under the duvet to lie flat on his back. He was aware of familiar stirrings as he devoured this stunning woman with his hungry eyes.


“Do you like what you see so far?” Heather asked as she stepped away from the window. She placed her hands on her hips which pulled the white coat back. There was a clearer view of the well-filled blouse, the top two buttons of which were undone.


“Well?” Heather asked, and inclined her head as she took a step forward.


“Yes,” Nick said and swallowed. “I like it a lot.” As usual with Nick, his head was ruled by a pulse further down his body – much further down than his heart.


“Good,” Heather said, as she stepped to the edge of the bed, reached down and pulled back the duvet. When Nick lay uncovered from head to toe, Heather looked down at his erection and smiled.


Nick had been staring at the steady rise and fall, of Heather’s chest. He gasped at the sudden revelation of his condition. In the short time, he’d been in these strange circumstances it had never occurred to him that he was completely naked. He turned from admiring the statuesque woman and looked down at himself.


“Oh, Nick,” Heather said. “What have you been thinking? You’re blushing too.”


“How do you know my name?” he muttered as he reached to pull the duvet back up. “Where am I?” The thoughts that should have occurred to him earlier were surfacing. “Where is Kirsten?”


Heather leaned on the edge of the bed with both hands and looked into Nick’s wide-eyed stare. A smile played on her lips. Nick’s gaze fell to the improved view of Heather’s cleavage. “Later, Nick,” she breathed. “First, you get freshened up and dressed. We’ll talk after you’ve eaten.”


She rose to her full height and strode to the door, where she stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “If you don’t want to miss breakfast, you’ve got 20 minutes.”


 Nick sat up and looked at the door. He’d heard a light click after Heather’s departure. Nick padded across to the door and strained to hear if there was any conversation on the other side of the door. There was nothing, so he decided to take a quick peek outside. He turned the large brass knob slowly and tried to ease the door open, but there was no give - locked from the outside.


He looked around the room. Absent-mindedly he wandered across to see the view through one of the large windows. There were snowy peaks in the mountain range that reminded him of the time of year. The end of winter was still in evidence. Mountains?


“Where the fuck am I?” he said aloud. The peaks were only a few miles away and between there and where Nick stood, were foothills and acres of lush forestry. There was no sign of a roadway, only a large, landscaped garden close to the house and then trees filling the middle distance out to the hills and mountains.


He stared at the view and shook his head. Nick recalled what Kirsten had said about getting away from it all. Well, he thought, they’d certainly gotten away from it all, but if they were going to sort out their problems, shouldn’t she be here?


He tried, but couldn’t remember the journey clearly, or getting out of the car. It occurred to him that however he got to this room, perhaps part of the plan was that he and Kirsten had to sleep separately at first. Oh well, he thought, that doctor, or therapist, or whatever she was looked a bit tasty. It would be a delight to spend time with her.


Thinking of time, Nick looked at the small digital clock on the bedside cabinet - 08:00. Nick walked across the thick carpet to the en-suite. He noticed two devices on the ceiling and one on the wall. He figured they must be automatic sensors and air-filters.


He didn’t know how, but during his earlier visit to the en-suite, he’d failed to see the full-length mirror on the end wall. He was admiring himself when thoughts of Heather came to mind. Nick became aware of a rapid response from his body.


He considered giving himself a treat in the shower, but couldn’t wait, so he stepped over to the toilet and lifted the lid. At first he got a buzz from admiring his reflection as he stroked his pulsating organ, and then he closed his eyes to imagine Heather. He considered how good it would be if she was in front of him.


“Go on Heather,” he whispered as he thrust his hips rapidly back and forward and massaged his engorged cock with his right hand. “Get ready to swallow,” he said as he gasped. “Go on, take it all.” Nick breathed deeper and faster as his excitement grew. In a short time, he had no choice but to fulfil his desire. He closed his eyes, and his right arm became a blur. Nick felt a warm glow deep inside.


He opened his eyes and noticed something he’d hardly registered on the wall above the white cistern. A small sign written in copperplate encased in a gold frame.


‘No masturbation is allowed unless you’ve been given permission.’


In both top corners and bottom left of the frame were tiny purple flowers and green leaves. The name Heather appeared at the bottom right in a flowing script.


Seeing her name brought an image of Heather clearly to mind again. Her beauty was haunting him, and his physical pleasure only lasted a few seconds longer. He leaned forward and spurted his juices into the water below. “Permission,” Nick said quietly. “Yes Heather, you can have my permission - to suck my cock.” He smiled, flushed the toilet and then enjoyed a hot shower.


Nick towelled himself dry except for his hair. He walked across the bedroom to the wardrobe and inside found a white fleece dressing gown and a pair of flip-flops with gold straps. A rapid inspection proved that each drawer of the dresser was empty, except for one which contained a hairdryer, brush and comb. All white, of course.


Nick looked around but was unable to find his clothes or his small suitcase. He returned to the wardrobe, lifted out the dressing gown and stepped into the flip-flops. Nick sat at the dresser. It took ten minutes to get his hair dry and brushed. He normally wore a nondescript rubber band to hold his long hair in a ponytail, but he couldn’t see the one he’d been wearing.


When he opened the top drawer to replace the hairdryer, there were two small elastic scrunchies in the corner. It didn’t surprise him that they were white, but it did surprise him that there were two. Nick lifted a scrunchie, pulled his hair back and fed it through the tiny elastic hoop. He left the hairdryer on the dresser.


Nick stood and turned to admire himself in the full-length mirror. He checked himself out, smiled and turned towards the door. He paused. There were two framed embroideries on the main wall, and they were the only decoration apart from the quality wallpaper and furnishings. The frames were similar to the sign in the en-suite.


Inside the first gold frame Nick read:


‘While in the White Room – consider that white represents new beginnings. It is also helpful in clearing blocked energies, amongst other things.’


Nick read the second sign.


‘While living here, consider every response carefully. When it comes to sex, treat others in the way you would like them to treat you ...’


In three corners of each frame were tiny purple flowers and green leaves, but in the bottom right corner was the signature, ‘Heather’.


“Oh well,” Nick said and raised his eyebrows. “That begs some serious questions after breakfast.” There was a light tap on the door. When it opened a young woman stepped inside.


She was 5ft 9ins tall, with perfectly trimmed ash-blonde hair that hung just below the shoulder.

“Hi Nick,” she said. “I’m Lauren. I’ll show you to the dining room.”


Nick had intended to act casual and ask questions of the next person he met, but when he set eyes on Lauren, words failed him. His eyes opened a little wider, and his jaw dropped as he gazed at this new vision.


Her complexion and features were perfect, just like Heather’s. Makeup was used to enhance, but it wasn’t overdone. Lauren stood with her hands lightly clasped in front of her. Her head was inclined to one side as she smiled at him.


Lauren wore a white, short-sleeved, blouse and a red, mini-skirt that flared, accentuating shapely legs. Unlike her boss, Lauren was wearing white stockings, so the pale colour of her thighs contrasted with the colour of her skirt. There was a moderate heel on her shining black court shoes.


“I wanted to ask ....” Nick started to say.


Lauren continued to smile, and slowly shook her head as she raised her right forefinger to her lips. The fingernail, like her lipstick, was bright red and caught Nick’s eye. He realised that the girl was nodding down towards the front of his robe. He looked down, mortified to see the glistening head of his aroused cock peeking out. Nick rearranged the dressing gown.


Lauren bit her bottom lip to control her smile. She held the door open with her left hand and gestured with a sweep of her right. Nick felt his face burning, but made his way to the door, He smiled at Lauren as he passed her, and inhaled her faint, but pleasant perfume. Beyond the doorway, Nick found himself in a large square hallway.


Lauren said, “Go to the door at the back and go straight in.”


Nick tried to take in his new surroundings as he walked towards the back of the hall. The area had deep-pile red carpet. To the left was a staircase with a polished wooden banister. Opposite the staircase was an exterior door with a stained-glass window.


On the right side of the hallway were two doors that were both closed, and had brass nameplates. One was titled Lounge and the other Private. All of the doors were golden oak like the banister and were just as highly polished. The walls were cream coloured with a subtle red rose and green leaf design.


A large painting mounted on the wall between the lounge, and private room caused Nick to stop. He looked at the copy of ‘Echo and Narcissus’ by John W. Waterhouse. Nick smiled as he feasted his eyes on Echo, seated against a tree in her red cloak with her left breast uncovered.


Nick thought that she looked tantalising, but Narcissus was kneeling on the opposite edge of the woodland pond, gazing with delight at his reflection. You’re a strange one, Nick thought. That woman looks available.


“Breakfast,” Lauren said and smacked Nick’s backside softly through the heavy robe.


In combination with the peculiar circumstances and surroundings, the playful slap fired up Nick’s imagination about what might be ahead. The painting haunted his thoughts as he continued to the dining room.




The Dining Room

Nick stepped into the dining room and paused.


Lauren said, “Please take a seat. You’ll have breakfast shortly.” Nick was alone. After the door had closed, there was a click, and Nick nodded in silent recognition.


Mounted on the wall near the door was a large round clock with a wooden frame and a countryside scene on the face. A man and woman were depicted, walking into lush vegetation in the midst of woodland. The couple were naked.


French doors took up the entire wall space at the opposite end of the room. Seen from the doors was a beautifully landscaped garden with winter blooms, and beyond this were forestry and mountains. Mountains were omnipresent, providing the backdrop on both sides of the house.


Nick wondered where the Hell he was. He knew he was still in Scotland, but much further north than the border country where he lived with Kirsten.


Mounted on the wall to the left were glass-panelled, oak-framed cupboards. Below them, matching cupboards, topped off with a white marbled worktop. There were a variety of kitchen accessories - in burnt orange. Nick opened the doors and found that one concealed a well-stocked fridge while behind another was a freezer.


Arranged on the worktop were glasses and three large glass jugs of fruit juice. Nearby were a kettle, teapot and all that would be needed to make a hot drink. Individually boxed cereals stood in a neat stack at the end.


Nick poured a glass of orange juice. Mounted on the main wall opposite the cupboards, was a large painting. It portrayed a banquet, but Nick couldn’t make up his mind if the characters were Greek or Roman.


There were four oak tables in the dining room, each set up with two chairs. The tables had cutlery and condiments. Like everything else so far, the room was immaculate, from the glass surfaces, right down to the gleaming marble-effect floor covering.


Nick wandered to the window and gazed at the stunning view for a moment. He gained an appreciation of how remote this location was and was grateful. He looked forward to breakfast, and as he waited he chose a seat that allowed him to look at the painting, and he studied it carefully.


Whether Greek or Roman, the diners were all dressed in white robes and sandals. The women wore little jewellery, but apart from that there was no disputing that they were female. They all lazed on large cushions, eating, drinking, chatting.


Two young people performed the duties of a servant. One was male, the other female, and both wore short white robes. The man wore a white loincloth and sandals. His female counterpart wore a revealing short white robe with a gold braid belt, and sandals. Nick studied the way that these two were offering food and wine to the guests. They’re probably offering themselves too, Nick thought. He sipped his chilled juice.


Nick turned when the door opened. Lauren walked in carrying a tray. Although his head remained still, Nick’s eyes checked out Lauren’s face only after he’d gazed at her legs. He was unaware that she’d caught his initial reaction. She held his gaze as she approached, and then she turned to look at the painting as if acknowledging his choice of seating arrangement. Lauren served Nick with a full cooked breakfast.


“Would you choose to be servant or master?” Lauren said, and looked down at the solo diner from under long lashes. She nodded towards the painting.


“I was just admiring the whole scene-,” Nick started.


“If compelled to choose,” she interrupted. “Which would you be in those circumstances?” She arched a shapely eyebrow and smiled.


Nick stared at the painting and his lips parted, but he didn’t speak.


“A servant then,” Lauren said. “Enjoy breakfast and then return to the White Room.”

“What happens next?”


“When you return to the White Room, you’ll find a document to read.” The smile disappeared, and she looked straight into his eyes. “What you decide after you read the information, will decree what happens next.”


“What would you suggest ... Lauren?” he said, tentatively adding her name. She bent forward before speaking. Nick’s eyes flicked down to her well-filled blouse before he met her gaze.


Lauren whispered, “If you decide to stay I’d suggest two things.” Nick looked into her eyes. She said, “First, I’d be obedient.” A trace of a smile passed over her lips. “Second, I would avoid using the word knickers, because Heather thinks it sounds vulgar.”


“Are you serious?” Nick said and his brow furrowed. “What does she prefer?”


Panties, is her preferred term, and that Nick, is the end of my advice for now.”


She maintained eye contact as she straightened. She swayed her hips as she walked to the door. Her short skirt flicked left and right as she walked, drawing attention to her thighs. At the door, Lauren turned and looked back over her shoulder. Once again she caught his eyes devouring her, but further down. She shook her head as she left the room.


“What I could do for you,” Nick muttered, looking where Lauren had exited. He realised that there had been no click. He pushed back his chair and stood, but Lauren’s words struck him like a mild warning. He sat down and ate.


Nick finished breakfast and made himself coffee. He studied the painting again and following Lauren’s remark, he concentrated on the servants. Both servants were bent forward offering refreshment. The diner in each case had an arm extended so that their hand disappeared under the servant’s attire. The diners being attended to were the same gender as the person waiting to serve them.


Why did she think I’d be a servant? Nick thought. What did that mean?




The Agreement

Nick returned to the White Room. Partly because of Lauren’s suggestion, and also due to burning interest, he didn’t pause to look at the painting in the hallway. He entered the room and stood with his back to the door. He heard a click but didn’t try the doorknob. The bedding was re-arranged and neat, and the glass of water had been removed from the bedside cabinet. The hairdryer was gone.


Nick checked the en-suite. The used towels had had been taken and replaced. The washbasin and shower were gleaming. Nick looked at the small sign that warned against masturbation.


His blue eyes sparkled, and he smiled. “Heather,” he said as he pulled open his dressing gown and grabbed his cock in his right hand. He poked out his tongue and flicked it up and down quickly as he stroked himself several times. With that momentary amusement out of his system, he left the en-suite. He sat on the padded stool in the bedroom and lifted the handwritten note from the dresser.




You have 30 minutes to make a decision about The Agreement, and then you must leave the room.


If you step into the hallway, either without The Agreement, or with The Agreement unsigned, you will leave the premises as soon as you are suitably dressed.


If you step into the hallway with The Agreement signed, you will commence a five-day visit here. From that point, your girlfriend may observe you, with your consent.


As you read this, Kirsten is being interviewed, and will be given options regarding a verbal agreement in her case. Nothing is compulsory for her at any stage, whereas everything will be compulsory for you if you sign The Agreement.


If you both agree to the suggested terms - you will stay, and Kirsten may leave whenever she wishes.






Nick thought about Heather before he unclipped the printed sheet from underneath. He also thought about Lauren, and then he looked at the sheet referred to as The Agreement. Kirsten’s name appeared twice. “Everything is looking good so far,” he murmured.


Nick placed the document on the dresser and read it from beginning to end. He read the opening statement twice before moving on. Anybody able to watch his reactions would have seen a variety of facial expressions.


He traced the words with a fingertip as he went down the list of points. His head bobbed forward, and his brow furrowed more than once. He squinted occasionally, and several times his eyes opened wide. He smiled, and toward the end his lips parted and his eyes opened even wider.


As he read, Nick didn’t give a thought to the use of two-way mirrors or miniature camera lenses for closed circuit television. After reading the note and the large document twice, Nick went to the en-suite to relieve himself. He washed his hands and having caught his reflection in the full-length mirror, slipped out of his dressing gown.


He admired his face and physique in a variety of poses, including full-frontal, profile, and looking back over his shoulders. At one point, he reached back and caressed his own tight, round buttocks, before digging his fingernails into the flesh. He undid the scrunchie and let his long fair and blond-streaked hair fall naturally. He looked over his shoulder for another look at himself.


“You’re not looking bad Nicky, my boy,” he said, before drawing his hair together and reapplying the scrunchie. He pulled on the white fleece robe again.




Sunday 16th July 2017


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Highland Games - 4

An Erotica Novella


A Life of Choice: Part Four

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