But it wasn't wise to delay too long when doing it in the office; someone might knock on his locked door and wonder what he's up to. Besides, after the recent closeness of Julia he wanted instant completion. He increased the rhythm of his fist, tight around the stem, the helm appearing and disappearing, his fingers slippery with pre-come juice. He couldn't stop now. He could feel the force gathering, chasing down his spine and into his loins. It surged and he pumped his cock furiously, dreaming of it cocooned in the deep warm valley between those luscious breasts of sweet Julia. He stiffened, groaned quietly, and felt the spunk pumping from him, coating his fingers and wetting his shirttail. He came in several glorious spasms, then replete, rested for a minute before wiping himself with a tissue and tucking his diminished penis away, zipping up quickly.
Composure regained, Will unlocked the office door, and lust appeased for the moment, settled down to his unfinished leader.
'I've done it,' Julia cried excitedly, rushing into the sitting room. Arlene was lounging on the settee, watching daytime television. 'Why aren't you in the workshop?' Julia added, then getting no response, raced on. 'I've just popped in to change; I've got a date with Vincent Gabor.'
Arlene turned her head sharply, looking at her friend inquisitively. 'You have?' Julia nodded eagerly. 'You like him, don't you?'
Julia blushed and lowered her gaze to the carpet. 'Yes,' she admitted meekly. 'I think I do.'
'Well I hope you haven't forgotten the object of the exercise; my stolen designs,' Arlene reminded her curtly. 'I don't like that starry-eyed look of yours.'
'I'm not starry-eyed,' Julia protested, pouting sulkily. 'You don't understand—'
'So what about the plan?' Arlene cut in. 'What about my designs.'
'I told you,' Julia remonstrated, and Arlene half-expected her to stamp her foot like a tetchy schoolgirl, 'I'm meeting Mr Gabor today to discuss a modelling contract, and I think I'm being introduced to Marty Blake. Apparently they're planning a big show, and I want to be part of it because it'll give me an opportunity to find out if Blake's pirating your stuff.'
Arlene eased off, realising that Julia was actually doing very well in her undercover role, but still concerned about the potentially dangerous attraction she could see developing towards Gabor. 'So, what's Vincent Gabor like?' she asked, encouraging her friend to talk.
Julia elegantly lowered her bottom onto the edge of the settee, winced a little, and looked suddenly unsettled, as though she wanted to tell Arlene something, but wouldn't. 'Well, he and his friends don't live as we do,' she began. 'I'm entering an entirely different world to anything I've known before.'
'Such as?' Arlene probed, placed a reassuring hand on Julia's knee, and listened with growing concern as her sweet friend opened up and told her everything about the dubious events that had taken place at Gabor's penthouse.
Julia prepared herself for the forthcoming evening with a great deal of consideration. Nothing too brash, she decided; Vincent Gabor was to treat her with respect, and so was Marty Blake.
She chose a simple outfit that suited her personality. She hadn't the confidence to put on something that was overstated, even though Arlene put her considerable wardrobe at her disposal, mostly her own designs and making.
She settled for a midnight-blue dress, the snug bodice of which showed off her breasts to perfection, moulding her cleavage into a deep, dark shadow. The skirt was cut on the cross, and she admired herself in the mirror, pirouetting so that it swirled around her legs. Yes, it was lovely and feminine... just right.
She drove the short distance to Highgate, her car representing independence. If things got too alarming she could always leave, beholden to none for a lift. With a scrunch of wheels on gravel, she parked outside Hazel House and sat for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Her mind had been filled with Vincent Gabor all day. It was as if he'd cast a spell over her, invaded her very being. She hadn't been able to eat, her stomach full of butterflies. In the bath, and whilst dressing, she had viewed her body as if it belonged to someone else, a vessel which she was oh so willing to sacrifice to him. She was infatuated, totally and dangerously.
But she had a mission to complete, and she would surely discover that Marty Blake, not Vincent, had perpetrated the crime.
The front door was opened by a voluptuous maid wearing a short black taffeta dress that clung to her generous breasts, pinched her waist and flared into a short frilly skirt, a white apron and lacy cap, fishnet stockings and high-heeled shoes that beautifully enhanced her shapely legs. 'Can I help you?' she asked brightly.
'I've an appointment with Mr Gabor,' Julia announced, surprised, for she had expected Grace to be there.
'Yes, miss,' the girl answered. 'He is waiting for you.'
'I'll see to this, Penny.' An androgynous figure appeared at the maid's side. It was dressed in black leather from head to foot, a close-fitting hood covering its head. 'Follow me, Miss Jones. I'm Kevin Dean, by the way, Marty Blake's PR and advertising consultant.'
It was hard to come to grips with the idea of him attending board meetings, yet the whole sequence of events was taking on a bizarre quality. It was even stranger than when she had first entered Hazel House and, as she walked behind Penny and the sinister person in black who called himself Kevin, she wondered what she had taken on. The shadows of evening were silently filling the hall and she had a strong urge to turn tail and flee, to seek the sanctuary of her beat-up old banger. But she was fired by curiosity and desire, and couldn't resist seeing what was round the next corner. Somewhere inside her head a continual film was filling up with images, recording every detail. Later she could re-run it and write it all down.
Would they take her to the reception room or had another place been chosen? Apparently it had, for they didn't pause, conducting her to the back of the house. Kevin stopped and pressed a button near a pair of cedar wood doors. They slid open, revealing the entrance to a lift, and Kevin gestured to Julia, who stepped inside. He followed, and so did the maid. It began to descend smoothly, then stopped with a slight jar. The doors hissed quietly open again, Kevin stepped out, followed by Julia and the maid.
Ahead of them was a dimly lit passage. It was chilly and damp. Had it once been a cellar? Was this still its role? Maybe Vincent Gabor stored rare wines there, knowledgeable when it came to vintages. She knew she was whistling in the dark; rare wines weren't the reason the lift had been installed, the walls re-pointed, the stone floor swept.
'Where are you taking me?' she asked, addressing Kevin's thin back, for he insisted on walking ahead of her.
'To meet the master,' he replied evenly, the foreboding tone of his voice causing her to shudder with trepidation. Master. The very word chilled her more than the dingy damp passageway he was leading her along.
A door set in an arch loomed before them. It was made of solid oak and heavily studded with nails. It had an ornately worked iron keyhole. Kevin rapped on the panels with his knuckles, and a voice called for them to enter. Kevin pushed open the creaking door and stood aside so that Julia might go first.
She was aware of darkness shot through with scarlet, of the persistent hum of a heating system in the bowels of the house, of the tall, powerful man silhouetted against the flames of large ecclesiastical candles standing in carved sconces.
'Welcome, Julia Jones,' Vincent Gabor said, the timbre of his voice scraping down her spine like sharp fingernails on slate. 'Come to me.'
She couldn't speak, every vestige of sense deserting her. Gabor didn't move, willing her to go to him, but she couldn't, having lost the ability to walk. Her knees had turned to jelly.
Then Grace emerged from the shadows, as severe as ever in an immaculate grey suit.
'Don't keep the master waiting,' she snapped, and dug her fingers into Julia's arm, marching her across the stone-flagged floor to him.
'But... but I thought this was to be a business meeting where I'd sign a modelling contract,' Julia began, daring to raise her eyes to his face and drown
ing in the hypnotic glint of his ink-black pupils.
'So it is,' he stated. 'Are you wearing any panties,' he asked suddenly, the forthright question taking her by surprise.'
'I - um - yes, I am, but I don't see—'
'Then you are breaking the rules of my house. You are to wear no panties when in my presence,' and reacting instantly to the click of his fingers, the maid lifted her short skirt and bared her beautiful bare bottom.
'Oh, but I wasn't told,' Julia said, her wide eyes transfixed by the six fading parallel welts etched on the girl's lovely pale buttocks.
'Nonetheless, you will be punished,' he insisted.
'But, Mr Gabor, that's not fair,' Julia protested, looking back to him.
'Do you dare to question my decisions?' he said, then called over his shoulder without freeing her from his stare. 'Marty, come and meet Julia Jones, your latest model... You've just earned yourself six lashes, my dear.'
Things weren't going as she'd hoped and planned, and Julia felt sick as Marty Blake appeared.
He took her hand and led her to the middle of the vault. 'Walk up and down,' he commanded, scrutinising her closely. 'I watched you last night, being whipped,' he disclosed, and although she'd suspected as much, it still made Julia feel even worse to think this arrogant man had witnessed her public chastisement and humiliation. 'It made me extremely horny, and it's your very quality of injured innocence that will appeal to the punters. I recognised it the moment I saw those first pictures of you - and don't worry; we'll acquire the negatives from that creep, Comby. He won't be flogging them on the porn market.
'I see you as the rising star of the woman's magazines,' he went on. 'Beautiful, talented, the face of the millennium. And you'll be wearing my designs, too.'
'I...' Julia felt she should say something, but didn't know what, and so she just stood there in the flickering candlelight, the word caught in her throat, her moist lips slightly parted, as she gazed at each of them in turn.
'But before all that,' Gabor broke the tense silence, 'she must be punished, as I just explained. Take off the offending garment, my dear, bend over, and grip your ankles.'
It was on the tip of Julia's tongue to refuse; if the whole scenario wasn't so alarming it would have been ridiculous, but then she glimpsed Grace's taut expression and knew there was nothing she could do but obey. She blessed the shadowy twilight in which they existed, the candles more discreet than the glare of electricity. But even so, as she slipped her hands beneath her dress, hooked her thumbs into her panties and bent over from the waist, easing them down her legs to her ankles, she was terribly conscious of the soft blue hem rising up the backs of her thighs, certain that all in the dank chamber could glimpse a sight of the undercurves of her buttocks.
Somehow she just knew she was expected to lift the material higher and fold it over her hips, and as she did, despite her misgivings, her nipples were erect and sensitive, and then she waited, holding her breath and trembling, for the first cut. Somehow it was worse than when she was bound to that horrible wooden frame, because there was nothing tangible to stop her from refusing to take her undeserved punishment... nothing except the inexplicable devotion she now felt for Vincent Gabor, her bewildering need to be controlled by him, and her incomprehensible desire to yield to him, body and soul. She prayed he would be the one to chastise her, not Blake, Grace, or the other weird creep.
The cellar had gone eerily quiet, and when the lash finally exploded on her vulnerable flesh with vicious severity, its crack roused the echoes. Julia thought she was ready for it, but was unprepared for the white-hot agony that forced a wail from her throat. The pain wrapped round her, across her tummy and down into her groin. Before it had time to settle the whip hissed and bit again, making her jerk, almost rocking her off her feet. She wanted to scream but held it back, gripping her ankles till her knuckles drained white as the pain built in her poor bottom.
Run, her mind frantically urged. You don't have to endure this.
But that dark sensual side of her that she was only just discovering insisted she stay. Vaguely she heard the others through her inner turmoil, and then wailed a feeble protestation as the cruel whip struck again. Julia clung to the thought that he had said six strokes, no more. She cried silently, fighting to hold back the tears that were squeezing from her tightly shut eyes, not wanting the onlookers to see them.
Then Gabor stopped and she felt his hands stroking her ravished buttocks, caressing the reddened orbs that had taken so much punishment. Fire radiated through her welts, and she longed for the balm he had used before.
'Get up,' he ordered, and groaning, she straightened, feeling weak and dizzy and distraught. He put a strong arm around her trembling shoulder. 'Are you feeling it?' he asked. 'Is your bottom stinging?'
'Yes... intensely,' she gasped, hardly able to speak.
Gabor nodded and looked pleased. 'I'm pleased to hear it,' he said. 'I think you'll be a valuable member of our team. Don't you, Marty?'
'I think so,' Marty Blake concurred. 'But I'd like to test her further, in my own way...' His eyes glinted hungrily and he leered at her from the shadows cast by the candles.
'This is my room whenever I stay overnight,' Marty Blake conversationally told Julia, as he checked she was properly secured to the four-poster bed. Her forearms and knees sinking into the soft mattress, she strained to try and see him over her shoulder. She was naked now, the blue dress a tiny crumpled heap discarded in one dark corner of the room.
'What are you going to do?' she asked timidly. She didn't trust or like Marty Blake at all, and wished Vincent Gabor was with them, but he'd dismayed her by permitting his friend to bring her up to the room, just the two of them.
'Don't worry, my dear,' he crooned from behind her, 'you'll love it... as I will.'
He appeared beside her, naked, climbed onto the bed and shuffled forward on his knees, his semi-erect penis swaying between his thighs. Without pausing he gained a grip in her hair, lifted her head, prised open her mouth with his free fingers, and fed his cock into her mouth.
'Good girl,' he grunted. 'Now suck... that's good...' and he started to move her head back and forth as she obeyed his commands, his swelling erection stretching her lips wider and wider. 'Ooh,' he croaked, slipping his fully erect cock from the haven of her warm wet mouth, 'too much of that and I'll miss out on my special treat.'
Blake moved away, and Julia whimpered as the mattress sank again, this time between her bound and parted ankles. He edged forward. His erection bobbed against the back of her thigh and then her buttock, leaving a sticky emission there, and she buried her face in the silk coverlet, defeated and waiting for the man to take his pleasure from her body. Deep down she'd always known her undercover work made this very happening highly likely, and she'd succumbed to Vincent Gabor quite contentedly, but Marty Blake was a different animal altogether.
He leaned over her, covering her back, his penis lodging itself between her buttocks. 'Have you ever been fucked in the arse, my dear?' he whispered harshly in her ear. 'I know you were a virgin until Vince got his hands on you, but what about your arse?'
Julia was stunned, her stomach knotting with horror. 'N-no,' she blurted. 'No, I haven't!'
'Oh good,' he gloated, anointing his penis in the juices that were seeping from her traitorous sex. 'Then your virgin arse will be my little treat to myself,' he sniggered, and licked her cheek, leaving it horribly wet with his saliva.
'But - aaahhh...' Julia's protest faded as Blake stabbed expertly with his hips and lodged the lubricated and swollen tip of his cock just inside the tight muscle of her anus. The shock forced the air from her lungs and her back arched, making her breasts and erect nipples available for his groping hand. She tried to rock forward, but he followed until she was sandwiched between the enveloping mattress and him. Then he raised himself on straightened arms, his weight on his hands and knees, the tip of his cock the only contact between them, and gazed down at her lustrous hair, the beautiful curves
of her shoulders, back and hips, and the soft buttocks moulded around his spear of an erection, which disappeared into the deep valley between them.
'I... I don't think I can...' she mumbled, almost incoherently, into the mattress. 'Don't make me... not that way...'
'But you are, dear Julia,' he gloried. 'Now, be quiet and enjoy...'
As Marty Blake's hips sank Julia clutched the coverlet desperately. The pain was intense, but as his hairy groin nestled down against her buttocks and her bottom was fully impaled, it rapidly eased and transformed into undeniable pleasure. He paused for a moment, allowing her to get accustomed to the new sensation, and savouring the tightness of her virgin rear passage, not wanting to spill his seed too soon and deny himself such sublime delight.
'That's very nice, my dear,' he grunted. 'You're a natural, and no mistake.' And then he started to move, just his hips, nothing more, the muscles of his arms knotted as they took his weight.
Julia moaned feeble protests, her head rolling from side to side on the bed, and then, very slowly, she began to lift her bottom, tentatively meeting his thrusts.
'Good girl,' he gasped. 'I told you you'd love it. Hell, you're so lovely and tight!'
His crude words suddenly triggered something inside her, spurring her on. 'Don't stop,' she sobbed desperately, her orgasm upon her. 'Please don't stop!' and as she shuddered in blissful release Blake grunted, stabbed aggressively with his hips, and came deep in her clutching bottom.
In Too Deep Page 12
