In Too Deep

by Roxane Beaufort

  Grace commenced running her hands over Julia's rounded buttocks, so shamelessly displayed. She wove her fingers into the valley, playing over the crimped anus, and then going lower to the damp vulva.

  'You could, with a few modifications and a few additions.' As she spoke, she gave full rein to her imagination, adding a length of silk to form a skirt, or a long stole, a swathe of sable to cover naked nipples, an exotic turban on Julia's tousled hair.

  She was right, transforming the revealing basque into a bodice suitable for wearing to the most star-studded première, naughty but acceptable. 'You could have been a designer yourself,' Julia said, and Grace nodded.

  'Perhaps,' she agreed, whipping away the improvised skirt. 'But we can't all be prima donnas. Someone has to keep the nuts and bolts of life together. I know my place and am happy to obey Mr Gabor. There are many perks, not the least of which is this,' and she cradled Julia's sex, spreading her fingers in and around the wet delta, holding the petals apart and concentrating on the juicy button of her clitoris.

  Still clinging to the walnut frame of the brocade-upholstered couch, Julia surrendered to the pleasure sweeping her towards orgasm. Grace was holding her from behind, and she hissed in Julia's ear, 'I'm going to make you come, but you're not to do it till I say you may. It's all par for the course. Our models have to be pliable and submissive.'

  'W-why?' Julia was struggling to sound rational, her traitorous desire increasing, that artful finger tormenting her needful bud.

  'It's a house rule,' the woman said in husky tones. 'Whoever works for Marty Blake and Mr Gabor has to know his or her place.'

  'Even you?' Julia sighed, her eyes closed, and then the fingers between her thighs were too much and her pleasure peaked, her orgasm shattering into a million fiery sparks.

  Then she was cruelly jarred back to reality as the woman administered a harsh slap on her bottom. 'Bad girl!' she admonished. 'Did I say you could come?'

  Reeling with shock, Julia was propelled to the chaise longue and thrust down. Grace rucked up her grey skirt, revealing a forest of wiry black hair that sprouted from her mons. She knelt over Julia, spreading her thighs, the lips of her labia protruding from the thicket, crowned by a large crimson clitoris. 'Now you'll bring me off,' she grated, lowering herself till she was squatting over Julia's stunned face.

  She was appalled yet fascinated by the woman's brazenly exposed and demanding sex. She had never been in such a position before, never been so close to another woman's genitals. She was disgusted yet shamefully excited, tentatively kissing that pink sliver of flesh, using her fingers to peel apart the hair-fringed folds, then sucking strongly. Grace's flesh tasted unexpectedly sweet, her juice coating Julia's cheeks and chin.

  Julia found it difficult to breathe, enveloped in female flesh and female essence, while Grace was grinding her hips to match the rhythm of the enchantingly naïve lips and tongue palpating her clitoris. She was losing control, her body shaking, hands inside her blouse. 'Ah... ah!' she cried, her voice rising to a howl. 'Oh... yes! Yes! I'm coming... that's it! Oh, I'm there!'

  She writhed then went rigid, and Julia felt the clitoris pulsing against her tongue and knew Grace had attained her zenith. Then giving herself no time to recover, the woman climbed off Julia and stood, her skirt falling into place. 'Get up,' she snapped. 'Don't think you're forgiven. You didn't wait to come till I gave you permission. Such disobedience can't be ignored.'

  'This is silly,' Julia complained. 'Don't you want me to model more clothes?'

  'No need; this is part of the test. Now, over the table - at once.'

  Annoyed, apprehensive, yet with a dark skein of excitement coiling inside her, Julia did as she was told. The table was narrow, the surface highly polished, and Grace pushed a hand into the small of her back, making her lean across it. The wood pressed against her breasts, swelling over the basque, forced high by her posture.

  'Grip the edge of the table,' the woman instructed.

  'No,' Julia refused sulkily.

  Grace grabbed her wrists, and there was a metallic snap as fur-lined handcuffs closed around them, fastened to a length of chain bolted underneath. Julia tugged, to no avail. She cringed, haunted by vivid pictures of Theona Blue as she had seen her through the window of the gymnasium. Was this cruel woman about to whip her? Fear gripped her, coupled with a reprehensible and inexplicable throb of anticipation.

  Then, without warning, Grace viciously smacked her bottom. Julia yelped and clenched her buttocks, pain robbing her of breath. But this didn't stop Grace from hitting her again, her hand harsh, leaving a scalding trail. She paused and Julia, sobbing in spite of her resolution to show no emotion, hoped and prayed she had finished. Silence yawned and she strained her ears to listen for movement. She could see nothing but the carpet, and hear nothing but birdsong filtering in through the window.

  Something swished behind her and she screamed at the impact as Grace struck her with a riding crop. It bit into Julia's rump, excruciating agony rising to a crescendo. Before she had time to recover the lash fell again. She clawed at the table, absorbing the pain, and when three more stripes joined the first she no longer shrieked, making mewing noises instead, choked by tears, aware of the pain yet conscious of something else - a throbbing deep inside her that resembled sexual desire.

  What was happening to her? Was she becoming totally depraved?

  'Ah, she's perfect. Fresh, artless... I like her.' Gabor sighed, giving a tug at the gold ring threaded through the piercing in Cressida's clit-hood. He looked down and added, 'I really must give you a diamond to go there. A diamond stud, to enhance your wonderful pussy. Would you like that?'

  'Thank you, master,' she replied meekly, the feisty girl reduced to a slave in his presence.

  They were in a recess built between the library and the reception room where Grace had taken Julia, where Gabor was able to spy on visitors. The mirror that hung over the fireplace was a two-way one, and he'd been watching everything his aide and the new girl had been doing. He had heard them talking, heard the whip singing, the niche wired for sound.

  He stripped off his T-shirt on entering, and his finely tuned body was tanned and muscular, kept in trim by a rigorous workout routine orchestrated by his trainer. He was olive-skinned and tanned easily, his chest and limbs coated with dark hair, pectorals crowned by wine-red nipples. A scribble of hair ran down from chest to navel and there fanned out to join the black bush from which his penis rose from his rolled-down jogging pants. While observing Julia at every stage of her interview with Grace, he had ordered Cressida to kneel and press her breasts together, forming a channel for him to use for his lust. He thrust his cock between her nut-brown orbs, but hadn't come until he'd raised her, spun her round and made her stick out her rump so he could plunge into her receptive vagina, which fitted round him like a velvet glove.

  Julia deserved a diamond too, he thought, watching her climb stiffly but still with innocent grace from the table and begin dressing. His cock sprung up again as he admired the red marks scoring her bottom, and he knew that very soon he'd enter the room, put on his business head and talk to her, all the while remembering her in the throes of orgasm or pain. He would hire her, of course, making her feel privileged to be a part of his team, then slowly and using all his powers of persuasion, he would seduce her. The idea of her being a virgin intoxicated him immensely.

  Then he changed his mind, saying quietly to Cressida, 'On second thoughts, it would be better to keep her dangling. Wind her up and then let her go. She'll be so wired if I leave it a day or so, that she'll agree to any terms. She'll model Marty's clothes, but I also want her to join my team of artistes who entertain influential foreign customers.'

  He picked up the intercom and spoke to Grace. 'Tell her to come to my penthouse suite at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon,' he said brusquely, aware of Cressida coiling herself, snakelike, round his legs, her nimble fingers forming a ring which she passed over his shaft. It stiffened and, as he gave Grace hi
s orders, so she rubbed his escaping jism over the helm.

  'You can't see her today? Very well, sir, I'll tell her,' Grace responded and replaced the phone.

  Gabor heard her informing Julia that he was busy and couldn't get away till tomorrow. He noted the flicker of disappointment that passed over the girl's lovely face, and his penis swelled under Cressida's ministrations, but his thoughts were with his interview with the virgin Julia the next day.

  'Did you see Blake?' Arlene demanded as soon as Julia stepped inside the door.

  'No,' Julia said, dropping her bag on the hall floor and kicking her shoes across the tiles. 'Jesus! What a trek. The traffic was evil, road-rage all over the place. I hate driving through the city and I've to do it again tomorrow. I didn't see his high and mightiness, Vincent Gabor, either. I'm ordered to attend him tomorrow afternoon, in his office in town. Apparently, he was too busy to see me.'

  'So you don't know if you've been taken on?' Arlene paced about restlessly, from hall to sitting room and then out through the conservatory to the garden.

  'Well, not finally, I suppose, though his assistant, Grace Pennick, looked at my CV and had me wear a brief costume. She did other things, too,' Julia added, her face heated with more than a hectic and frustrating drive through the busy streets.

  'Oh, and what were they?' Arlene asked, but she was still wrestling with her annoyance because Blake had not turned up to the audition.

  It wasn't simply the loss of her designs that was bugging her. She was finding it hard to cope with her own strong feelings concerning Blake. She was furious with him, naturally, but memories of their one session in the broom cupboard continued to plague her. Eugene had been with her almost constantly and she was grateful, but no matter that they were screwing each other brainless, she still couldn't blank Blake from her mind.

  'I'll tell you all that happened, in a minute,' Julia promised, and Arlene could see that she was tired, so fixed a tray of tea and carried it out to the patio.

  The sun was warm, beating down on their loungers, and she stripped off her clothes and applied a generous helping of screening oil, enjoying the rays in this secluded corner, far from prying eyes.

  'Aren't you going to get your kit off?' she asked, pouring tea and taking her own cup back to her lounger, spreading it with a beach towel and then lying down, her face shaded by a parasol clipped to the backrest.

  'I suppose so,' Julia said, surprising Arlene with her reluctance.

  She wriggled out of her skirt, top and bra, but was hesitant about removing her French knickers. 'You'll spoil your base tan,' Arlene warned, staring at her lower half severely. 'Like me, you usually insist on a seamless, all over brown. Now is the time to start, ready for the heat wave. What's the matter with you? You're not usually shy. Have you got the curse, or something?'

  'No, it's not that,' Julia answered, obviously highly embarrassed. Then she suddenly dropped her drawers and presented her posterior to Arlene, almost defiantly. 'It's this. Look.'

  Julia's firm but luscious bum was bright red, marked by long stripes. Arlene winced, yet a hot spasm of longing forged through her sex. 'You've been whipped!' she cried. 'Who the hell did this?'

  'Grace Pennick,' Julia said, and gingerly lowered her bottom onto the padded seat.

  'Blimey,' Arlene gasped, astonished and riven with a sudden burst of envy. 'You said you'd tell about what happened this afternoon. I want every detail.'

  Julia reached for the sun oil and applied it to her limbs, breasts and stomach, and then she plunged into the story. 'It was all right at first. She took me into a magnificent salon in Gabor's house. No one else was there. She said she usually interviewed applicants on the first occasion. She looked at my CV and copies she had of the photos, then she asked me to undress, and when I'd done so, laced me into this corset thing. It was so tight I nearly passed out.'

  She fell silent and Arlene, idle under the heat, looked sideways at her. Julia, obviously lost in a dream of the afternoon's activities, raised her knee, and her thighs, no longer pressed together, drifted apart. Arlene tried to see between them, but Julia's hand wandered down and sought her clit, stayed there for a moment, then rose, uncovering the labial groove. She played over her cleft, descended, slipped along her delta, and returned with a finger glimmering with dew. She repeated this action, but only her middle digit was lowered, the others gracefully lifted, like the open wings of a dragonfly.

  Arlene's heart was pounding and wetness seeped from her vulva to soak into the towel under her bottom. Julia was her friend, but now she had become an object of sexual desire, too. 'What else did Grace do?' she managed to croak, having a fair idea of Julia's reply. Something or someone had excited her beyond decorum or modesty. Arlene had never seen her masturbating before. She'd always been modest, but recently events had taken place that had brought her out of her shell.

  'Oh, she undressed me, and fondled me so expertly that I couldn't hold back. I came before she told me to and, as punishment, she sat on my face and had me suck her, then she spanked me and used her riding crop on my poor arse,' Julia said haltingly.

  Her finger pressed down on her bud, flicking it, hesitating, and then circling it with gentle movements. Arlene sighed, her own pussy throbbing with longing.

  'Have you done this to a woman before?' she asked.

  'No,' Julia whispered. 'I felt so ashamed, but it was good.'

  Arlene relaxed, closed her eyes and separated her pink slit with two fingers. 'It is good, different than with a man, more satisfying in many ways. And when she whipped you - was that arousing?'

  'I'm not sure. I think so. The pain seemed to connect with my sex. I pretended she was a dominating man - a tall, dark and handsome master. It's always been a fantasy of mine.'

  Bloody hell, wonders would never cease, Arlene exalted.

  As if inspired by visions of her demon lover, Julia's fingers fluttered over her clitoris and she started to moan. Her thighs opened and then closed on her hand. She pumped her hips up and down against her imprisoned fingers, then cried out and fell back, panting.

  Arlene sighed too, senses inflamed. She started to caress herself, thinking of the burning stripes on Julia's buttocks and sharing her need for a man who would command her and subject her to the kiss of the lash.

  A replete Julia propped herself up on one elbow and stared at her. 'Can I watch?' she asked sweetly.

  'Of course,' Arlene said huskily, and it seemed as if the two of them were alone in the entire universe. She slipped her hand down to her entrance, wishing for something with which to penetrate it. She would come through rubbing her clit, but longed for a large vibrator to stuff into her channel just on the point of climax. This always added to her joy. With her legs apart, one finger in her cunny and another rubbing her nub, she was transported, keeping up the smooth movements until she was caught up in the tidal wave of release.

  Julia felt extremely anxious as she entered the palatial portals of Gabor's superb office block in the heart of the city. It was called Abby Reach. A uniformed porter asked her for identification and, when she'd given it, nodded and took her to the elevator. This in itself was impressive, lined with gleaming mahogany, its gates constructed of intricate ironwork, a curiously old-fashioned touch in so modern a building. Within seconds she was whisked up several floors. When the lift stopped and the gates parted, she stepped out into a foyer, and Grace was there to meet her.

  'You're on time,' she remarked. 'That will please Mr Gabor. He's a stickler for punctuality.'

  As yesterday, she was wearing a functional tailored suit, buttoned high at the neck, with a skirt that reached to below the knee, but the fact that she wore stockings of so fine a texture that they resembled a smoky mist hinted at the sexuality Julia now knew lay beneath this almost puritanical exterior. Yet she was treating her as if this was their first meeting and that intimacy had never taken place between them.

  'Is this his office?' she asked, butterflies in her stomach.

  'No, he ow
ns the building and has various branches of his business activities housed here, but this is his penthouse suite. He chooses to stay here sometimes, particularly if he's entertaining.'

  Julia was as overawed as she had been in Hazel House. She had never met someone with so much money and power. The room into which Grace conducted her was spacious, made larger by its minimal décor; white rugs spread over highly polished teak, a white leather couch big enough to seat six, low glass-topped tables, spotlights overhead and windows giving a magnificent view over London's heartland. Two beautifully proportioned and extremely ancient bonsai trees in shallow, earthenware pots, formed a cool green counterpoint to so much white.

  Music came from tall thin speakers that resembled sky-scrapers and were correctly placed for surround sound - classical music, a slow, haunting aria delivered superbly by a soprano voice.

  'What is it?' Julia asked, a dunce when it came to composers, her taste eclectic. She knew what she liked, be it pop or highbrow, but was usually at a loss concerning titles or performers.

  'Casta diva, from Bellini's opera, Norma,' Grace said, face uplifted to the sound, hands clasped against her breasts. 'Wonderful, isn't it? So sad, so lyrical. It makes me cry, and makes me randy.'

  This was astonishing coming from a woman who Julia already thought of as the Ice Queen. Was she, perhaps, in love with Vincent Gabor, her boss and master?'

  'It is a so wonderful work, and the rendition is perfect,' said a deep, accented voice from behind her. She swung round and nearly gasped aloud. There stood Prince Charming in person, her dream come true. She got a quick impression of height and strength, of pronounced cheekbones, a patrician nose and a wide mouth. The upper lip curled disdainfully, but the lower was full and sensual. His face was framed in blue-black hair that coiled around his collar, and she found herself staring into the most unfathomable eyes. Though dark-lashed and beautifully shaped, rather like a wolf's, there was something about the expression in them that caused a shiver to chase down her spine to her sex.