House Rules


By G.C. Scott

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This item is a preorder. Your payment method will be charged immediately, and the product is expected to ship on or around April 7, 2000. This date is subject to change due to shipping delays beyond our control.

In this steamy novel of bondage and abandon, Richard, an Englishman in Hamburg, is introduced by Margaret Wagner to her beautiful niece Helena, and with them experiences the thrills of sexual slavery and transvestism. A shadow falls across Richard’s pleasures, however, when he discovers the strength of Margaret’s hold over Helena. Thwarted in a misguided attempt to rescue the submissive Helena, Richard soon finds himself in the sensual tutelage of another of Margaret’s business acquaintances — one who will teach him in full the true meaning of obedience.



Diversion Books
A Division of Diversion Publishing Corp.
443 Park Avenue South, Suite 1008
New York, NY 10016

Copyright © 1999 by G.C. Scott
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

For more information, email

First Diversion Books edition July 2015
ISBN: 978-1-62681-947-4

Also by G.C. Scott

Agony Aunt
The Passive Voice
His Mistress's Voice


'You do not want to go with any of these women,' said a voice behind him. Richard turned to confront a short young woman with dark hair and dark-blue eyes. She was in her mid-twenties, he guessed, and she was extraordinarily beautiful.

'And do you know what I do want?' Richard asked her.

'Maybe,' she said as she took his hand and led him back towards the Reeperbahn. 'All those ladies under glass,' she said, gesturing toward the glass-fronted rooms in which prostitutes displayed themselves to the passing crowds, 'all those women are greedy professionals, in it for as much as they can get. You cannot blame them. We all want as much as we can get for our work. But their usually perfunctory service is less easy to forgive or tolerate. They owe their customers a good time, at least.'

'And what do you offer your customers?' Richard asked as they turned out of Herbertstrasse on to the Reeperbahn. She led him towards the U-Bahn station. Even as he followed her, he wondered who she was. This was the very first time he had ever been picked up by a woman.

She frowned slightly at him. 'I don't have customers. I have clients, or, better, friends. And I offer them the chance to discover what they want to do.'

'And are your tastes so catholic that you can satisfy every one of them?'

'No. Of course not. But once I know that I cannot help them, I can usually send them to someone who can. But don't ask so many questions. You will take all the surprise and mystery out of it.'

The crowds on the Reeperbahn made progress slow, but Richard was in no hurry to reach the destination towards which his new companion was leading him. Part of the fun of Hamburg's red-light district was the show on the streets. A blonde Valkyrie in a rubber suit was offering some unthinkable service to the passers-by, and Richard edged closer to hear her. It seemed, from what he could make of her rapid-fire German, that she was offering to take anyone back to her room and beat them with whips while they kissed her feet and begged for more. It wasn't exactly his idea of fun, but someone in the crowd struck a bargain with her, and the two went away together.

'She'll spend maybe ten minutes actually whipping him, not very hard. The rest of the time she will sit around in her rubber suit letting him look at her. Not much like what he is expecting, but that's the way things usually go.'

Shops selling every kind of sex toy, and pornography that would be banned instantly in his native England, lined the pavements. The crowds of pimps, prostitutes and tourists filled both the pavements and the street. The crowd parted to reveal a dark-haired woman of perhaps thirty. She was attractively dressed in a white knit dress that ended just above her knees and clung to her body. Her hands were tied behind her back, and a sign hanging around her neck told passers-by to take her back to her rooms in Herbertstrasse and do whatever they wished with her.

Richard thought it might be difficult for her to insist on being paid for her services if the punter simply neglected to untie her hands. Or, even more sinister, what if someone in the crowd were to take her back to her rooms and torture her, or even kill her? But then, he reflected, she doubtless had a minder in attendance to ensure that neither of these possibilities were realised.

As if reading his mind, Richard's new companion nodded towards the bound woman. 'She promises to do anything she is told, but all she provides is a screw under the eyes of her pimp who, as often as not, threatens to send a video tape of the action to the police. That usually gets more money from the poor man. On tape, what they are doing looks very much like rape. And in any case, no one likes to have that kind of information about his sex fantasies getting out. Just another con,' she finished contemptuously.

'How do you know so many of the people here?' Richard asked her.

'I have lived here for three years,' she answered simply.

Richard stopped suddenly, and the girl turned to look at him in surprise. 'Who are you?' he asked. 'And where are we going?'

'Do not ask too many questions. There should be some mystery in first encounters. And,' she added, 'things will be easier this way if you find you do not like what I offer you. You can forget me more easily if you do not know my name.'

'But suppose I do like what you offer? How will I find you again?'

The girl smiled up at him and said, 'If that is the case, we will exchange names and addresses and arrange for the future. Now come along.'

The crowds thinned out as they walked away from the centre of the red-light district. When they reached the U-Bahn terminal by Die Landungsbrüken, they were practically alone. The girl led the way to the platform. The train was not very full, and they rode in comparative privacy. Richard kept his questions to himself, and the girl said nothing more about their destination or herself. He was able to look more closely at her now, and he confirmed his first impression: she was undeniably beautiful. Her dark hair was cropped short and seemed to fit her head like a helmet, a style he always associated with Audrey Hepburn, and which gave her the same air of gaminerie. Her eyes were dark blue, almost black. She wore her clothes with style. Her dress revealed a good deal of her thighs as she sat beside him. Her legs were rather on the full side, which he preferred to the fashionably slender legs in vogue among models. She wore glossy white tights and high-heeled shoes. The effect was stunning, now that he could see her clearly. Richard was suitably stunned.

They got off at Die Jungfernstieg and walked a short distance along the lake side. 'This is the Binnenalster,' she explained to Richard. 'That is, the inner Alster lake. I live along the street here. If this were a fairy story, I would be a young maiden leading you to a castle, but I'm afraid you'll have to put up with an apartment only.'

They turned into Gertruden Strasse and entered the building on the corner. It was some five floors high, and her apartment was on the fourth floor. The windows along one side overlooked the lake, and she left the room dark so that they could stand at the window and see the lights of the water-taxis moving slowly across the dark water.

'I have only one rule,' the girl said in the darkness. 'You may do anything with me so long as I can do anything with you. In that way we will discover one another's likes and dislikes, and the reciprocity of the transaction should keep us from doing anything really harmful to one another. Unless you're a psychopath, that is.'

Richard smiled and replied, 'I don't think I am. No one has ever told me I was crazy.'

'Then that's all right,' she said. She drew the curtains and turned on the lights. 'Welcome to my home,' she said as Richard looked around.

The room in which they stood was carpeted in dark blue. The furniture looked comfortable rather than luxurious: a couch and armchairs, coffee table, TV and video recorder. Fashion photographs hung on the walls. They were from many periods, from the twenties on up to the present. Richard walked over to examine them more closely.

Seeing his interest, the girl said, 'I am—or I would like to be—a fashion designer. But I haven't enough money to set myself up in business yet. Once I begin I would like to design my own exclusive lines. Come into my work room and look at some of my designs.' She led Richard into one of the bedrooms and turned on the light. There was a large drafting table along one wall, a sewing machine and worktable along another. There were drawings and bolts of cloth, a dressmaker's dummy, all the paraphernalia associated with a designer's studio, but on a much smaller scale.

'Have you studied design?' he asked.

She nodded. 'For five years, in school and at college. I have always been interested in the subject. And I think I have found a niche I can fill.' She picked up a sketch from the drafting table and beckoned Richard to come and look at it.

The sketch showed a male figure wearing leather shorts which fitted like his own skin. He was locked into them by means of a leather waist belt which passed through several sturdy belt loops and locked with a padlock. There was a zipper up the back which locked to the belt with a second padlock. The front was designed to both contain and emphasise his genitalia. The garment had long legs that fitted tightly, obviously to prevent access to his cock.

'How does he go to the toilet?' Richard asked.

'He doesn't, unless his keeper lets him,' the girl replied.

'His keeper? Who might that be?'

'Oh, anyone at all,' she replied airily.

'You?' he asked.

'Maybe. It would depend on the man. But these would be for sale to anyone who desired to control their partner. There is a female version as well.' The girl picked up another sketch and handed it to Richard to study. This one was obviously designed for a female figure. The waist was much smaller, the hips larger in proportion, and the legs were cut high, leaving little more than a thong running up the crack of the bottom while covering the entire vulval area. The same arrangement of locking belt and zipper was provided.

'Wouldn't these be rather warm to wear for a long time?' It was the only thing he could think of to say that might conceal his rising excitement.

'I suppose I could arrange a few small holes to let the air in,' the girl replied. 'While keeping everything else out,' she added.

Richard felt a wave of excitement as he looked at the drawings. He imagined how it would feel to be locked into the leather shorts, unable to touch his own cock, and how the girl would look if she were locked into the female version of the chastity belt. There was no other name for the things she was showing him. He had never thought seriously about that sort of thing before, but the idea interested him now. However, it was only an idea, a fantasy. The garments existed only as drawings.

'Have you made up any of your designs?' he asked.

'A few. I haven't the money or the time now to do it full time. When I have saved twenty thousand marks, I'll make a real beginning. I think it would be fun to make and sell that sort of thing. And I know it is profitable, just by looking at the prices others sell their ready-made things for. I plan to offer clients a personal fitting service if they wish. I will design their choices directly on their bodies. But of course I will need some place a bit bigger than this. I will need a room where I can accommodate more machinery, as well as somewhere more intimate where I can take my measurements and do fittings.'

'Have you thought of getting someone to back you with cash while you get started?' Richard asked.

'I have approached several people here in Hamburg, but so far I haven't been able to afford to travel farther afield. But I'm nearly at the point where I can begin. Only another few thousand marks. And of course I need a commission from a client.' Changing the subject abruptly, she said, 'Let's talk about what you'd like to do this evening.' She led Richard back through the sitting room and into the second bedroom.

The time for negotiations had arrived. Ruefully, he thought that it always came to this. Being picked up by a beautiful woman almost always came down to the matter of how much. Only in fantasies does a woman choose a complete stranger and take him home for a night of passion out of sheer love for the sport. He didn't grudge the money. It was the mechanics of haggling and the embarrassment of handing it over that he disliked.

The girl, however, said nothing about payment. Perhaps, he thought, she was the type who waited until afterward. Or maybe the type who left the amount to the discretion of the man. That might prove even more awkward, but he would have to deal with that. He wasn't going to walk out at this juncture.

Standing before him, she looked down with a smile. 'Undo me,' she said, turning so that he could get at the long zipper up the back of her clingy dress. It purred downward, and she shrugged out of the garment to stand before him in bra, panties and the sheer, glossy tights he had noticed earlier. She seemed to expect some comment, for she stood still while he looked at her.

Richard couldn't think of anything that didn't sound banal, so he merely looked at her. He thought she was beautiful, but even that didn't do justice to her. She removed the rest of her clothes. Watching a woman undress before his eyes usually made him silent. She let him look his fill before undressing him.

'Lie down on the bed,' she directed him. The girl went to the bureau and returned with a pair of handcuffs. 'Put your hands through the bars of the headboard,' she told him.

In a daze, Richard obeyed. She locked the cuffs on his wrists, leaving him helpless on the bed. He felt his heartbeat quicken as she stood looking down at him. His cock was becoming erect even though she had not yet touched it. The bizarre and novel situation was enough to arouse him.

The girl smiled as she sat on the bed beside him. When she touched his cock, he flinched involuntarily. She smiled again at his reaction, holding him in her hand. 'Good so far?' she asked, and he nodded, fascinated both by the situation and his ready acceptance of her domination.

'Relax and let me do the work,' she told him. She climbed on to the bed and sat astride him, facing his feet. With one hand she grasped his cock while she cupped his balls with the other.

There was nothing he could do to influence her actions, and his helplessness was brought home to him when she squeezed him sharply. He gasped in surprise. However, this reminder of his vulnerability was exciting rather than frightening. This was one of his wildest fantasies come true. He had heard rumours of clubs in London where men and women met to practise bondage and flagellation, but had dismissed them as too fantastic even while he wished he could find one himself. But no one in East Anglia was likely to know about such places. He had come to Hamburg half hoping to find someone to introduce him to domination and bondage, and had been more than half minded to choose one of the women who advertised themselves as dominatrices along the Reeperbahn and in the Sankt Pauli area. He could hardly believe his incredible luck in being picked up by a woman who looked like being the girl of his darker dreams.

Meanwhile the girl was stroking his cock slowly and expertly, and Richard felt himself growing more and more excited. She seemed bent on making him come. 'What about yourself?' he asked her. 'If you keep on like this I'll come and won't be able to do anything for you.'

'And does that bother you?' she asked in her turn.

He thought for a moment before replying, 'Yes.'

'You are most unusual then. Most men are selfish enough to remain silent and let me go on.' She paused and looked back at him over her shoulder. 'Yes, I see you are concerned,' she continued. She shifted herself so that her crotch was above his face as she bent to take his cock in her mouth.

Richard raised his head until he could lick her labia. He smelt the aroma of her musk mixed with a faint perfume, as from talcum or bath salts.

'Umm,' she said. That's good. Do you feel better too?' The words were blurred because she didn't stop sucking his cock. Without waiting for a reply, she shifted so that his tongue could reach her clitoris. She settled herself atop him and continued to arouse him.

Richard worked his tongue inside her and felt the tiny hard grape of her clitoris. With lips, tongue and gently nipping teeth he toyed with her, being rewarded by an occasional groan as she became excited in her turn. The task of arousing her took his mind away from what she was doing to him, so that the danger of an immediate solo eruption receded. He really preferred a long, slow sexual encounter to one that ended too soon.

He was so intent on what they were doing to one another that her first orgasm caught him by surprise. Abruptly she bore down on his face and moaned softly. At the same time she nipped his cock. He tensed as he felt her teeth, but then she released him as her mouth opened in a longer, deeper moan of pleasure. He felt her shudder as the spasm passed through her body. When it passed, she resumed working on his cock. Richard wanted to hold her against him, but the handcuffs prevented any more active participation on his part. He had not foreseen that aspect of bondage when he was fantasising about it, but he found that his helplessness was turning him on in ways he had never thought possible. He was finding it hard to hold back his own orgasm as he lay beneath this extraordinary young woman who had picked him up on the street.

She moaned again as a second orgasm took her. Richard buried his face deeper in her crotch as she bucked atop him. When the peak had passed, she lay quiet for a few moments, then she shifted until they were face to face so that he could enter her. As she guided him home, she sighed with satisfaction. She lay flat against him so that her breasts were pressed against his chest. Then she began to fuck him, rising and falling on his cock and rubbing her breasts with their engorged nipples against his chest. Her next orgasm shook them both, her body shuddering as a series of peaks washed through her. She was moaning continuously, the sound rising and falling as she gasped for breath. Her mouth was wide open and her eyes closed tightly as she concentrated on her pleasure.

Richard felt as if his cock were enclosed in a burning liquid tunnel which sucked greedily at him as she moved wildly in her orgasm. He was trying hard to prolong this episode. It was one of the wildest sexual encounters he had ever experienced, and he wanted it to last. At the same time he knew that he was being pushed steadily closer to the brink. When he could delay himself no longer, he too groaned with the release of tension. The girl bucked wildly as she joined him. He thought she would fling herself off into the air, so wild were her movements. Then abruptly she slumped against him, her breath sawing in her throat.

Richard was alarmed. She seemed to be having a fit of some sort. He thought, belatedly, of those stories about having a heart attack during sex, and he wondered if that had happened to her. She lay limply against him, and he was helpless to do anything. He tugged at the handcuffs, but there was no escape. He could do nothing but look at her. And as he did he noticed that she was still breathing, albeit stertorously, and her heartbeat was strong. He could see the tiny pulse beneath her ear. All the vital signs were there, and gradually he realised that she had fainted. That was something none of his other partners had ever done. Quite an accomplishment, he thought with a quiet pride.

He lay more quietly as the initial alarm faded and his breath slowed towards normal. Indeed, there was nothing else he could do until she regained consciousness and unlocked the handcuffs. Or didn't. He felt a thrill of excitement as he contemplated being held for hours. It would hardly be against his will.

They lay for what seemed like hours, until eventually she stirred and opened her eyes. For a moment she looked wildly at him, then recognition came to her and she smiled. She bent down and planted a kiss on his mouth before rolling off him. Richard felt a sense of regret as he slid out of her, but she was still smiling. She stood up warily, as if she didn't trust her legs to bear her weight. Then she moved off to the bathroom. Richard could hear water splashing, and then the sound of the toilet flushing. Eventually she came back, looking refreshed but still tousled. She was still smiling as she bent to unlock his handcuffs. She laid them on the bedside table before laying herself on the bed next to him.

Free now, Richard turned over and gathered her against him. She rested her head against his shoulder and kissed him again. They lay together, and gradually she drifted off to sleep. Her head rolled on to the pillow. Richard looked for a long time at the girl lying beside him. Her hair, dark against the pillow, shone softly in the glow from the bedside lamp. He stroked it idly, drowsily, before falling asleep himself with an odd sense of better things to come.

When he woke in the morning, the other half of the bed was empty, but there was a heartening smell of fresh coffee and breakfast being cooked. He got up and followed the noises to their source. The girl was standing at the stove wearing an apron.

'Cooking in the nude may be provocative, but there is a real danger of getting hot spatters on one's tits. Or other vital parts,' she added, with a glance at Richard's cock. 'But come and sit down while I finish our breakfast,' she continued.

Richard sat at the scrubbed pine table and admired the girl as she moved familiarly about the kitchen. She poured coffee for them both and presently set two omelettes on the table. Toast, butter and marmalade completed the setting. As she sat down opposite Richard, he voiced the thought that had been on his mind since they had met. 'Do you think it proper we should have breakfast without knowing one another's names?'

'Is it any less proper than what we did last night without knowing one another's names?' she retorted with a smile. 'But perhaps you're right. Breakfast is a different matter, in the cold light of the morning. I am Helena Witt.'

'Richard Stanfield. Are you related to Katarina, of figure-skating fame?'

'I don't think so. I am not from Chemnitz, or Karl Marx Stadt, as it used to be known. I come from Neumunster, near Kiel. Where do you live?'

'In England. Near Bacton, on the North Norfolk coast.' He went on to explain that he lived in a large old house in the country, a house inherited from his aunt, who had had ambitions for a large family but less success in acquiring one. 'I was her favourite nephew,' he told her. 'I used to spend my school holidays with her and my uncle, rattling around in the old place and in the woods nearby. On special days we would make an expedition to the seaside: places like Mundseley and Cromer. They—my aunt and uncle—loved the North Norfolk coast and detested Great Yarmouth, which they thought unspeakably vulgar, with all those amusements and gawking visitors.' He found himself eager to tell her more about himself. She was easy to talk to, and he felt impelled to share his confidences and experiences with her. But he stopped himself from running on about himself with an effort and asked her about her past.

'Later,' she told him. 'I would like to keep some secrets. It makes me more mysterious and desirable, I think. Don't you agree?'

'You may be right,' Richard agreed. 'I know you're mysterious and desirable enough for me as you are.'

'Thank you,' Helena said, with another smile. 'And thank you for saying nothing about my surprising you last night. It was bad manners, to say the least.'

'Not at all. I was flattered I could help you come as you did. No other woman has ever fainted in my arms, so to speak.'

'I was surprised myself,' she said. 'That has never happened to me before.' She looked at him solemnly.

'Well, in that case, maybe we should keep one another company. Maybe something like it will happen again.' Once again Richard was surprised to hear himself speaking so openly about his feelings with a stranger. The English reputation for reserve was not normally undeserved in his case.

Helena smiled abruptly, her solemnity disappearing. 'I am so glad you feel that way. I feel the same. I think we will go on to discover some wonderful things together.'

They were silent after their mutual revelations, embarrassed perhaps by their own frankness. But there was an underlying current of excitement as they ate their meal.

At the end of it, Helena asked him if he had anywhere important to go that day. Richard said no, he was having an indefinite holiday from England. She seemed pleased by his answer. He was happy, because her question implied that she wanted to spend more time with him. Helena stood up.

'Do you mind doing the washing-up, Richard? I need to get ready to go out for a bit.'

Richard nodded and watched as she took off her apron and hung it up. Nudity became her, he decided. As he washed up the breakfast things, he could hear her moving about in the apartment. The small domestic noises were reassuring. As he was finishing up, Helena came back. She was dressed and carrying a large canvas hold-all in addition to her handbag. She said she would be back in a few hours and he should make himself at home while she was out. Did he have any special requests for dinner?

'Anything, so long as you're around to cook it. I'm not much good at haute cuisine.'

She nodded, and withdrew. Richard heard her high heels tapping across the floor, then the sound of the door opening and closing as she left the apartment. He dried his hands on the apron Helena had worn and poured himself a second cup of coffee. He liked being alone in her apartment. Her leaving him there implied a certain degree of trust in him.

He took the coffee through into the bedroom, where he noticed she hadn't made up the bed. He smoothed the sheets and drew the quilt up over the pillows. Then he picked up the clothes she had worn the last evening, hanging up her dress and taking the underwear through into the bathroom as he went to take a shower. There was a wicker basket more than half full of her underwear and tights. Richard added the things he carried to the collection and stepped into the shower. He had left his toilet things at the guest house and so had to use Helena's things. That added another degree of intimacy to the novel situation.

He dried himself on her towel and put it into the basket of things to be washed before going in search of his clothes. He remembered Helena undressing him in the bedroom but couldn't find his clothes there. Puzzled, he looked into her wardrobe, in case she had hung them up. That seemed unlikely, since she had left her own things lying around. There was no sign of his clothes anywhere in the bedroom, so he wandered out into the living room. They weren't there either. Could they possibly be in the other bedroom, the one she had turned into a work room? They weren't, although Richard spent a good deal of time there both looking for his clothes and studying the drawings Helena had made of her fetish fashions. As on the previous evening, he felt a stirring of excitement as he looked at the drawings of the male and female chastity belts she had designed. He thought again how exciting it might be to be locked into one of them.


On Sale
Apr 7, 2000
Da Capo Press

G.C. Scott

About the Author

G.C. Scott is the longest serving Nexus novelist and has been writing for his loyal readers for nearly twenty years. He writes each novel at sea, aboard the Merchant Navy vessel he captains.

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