She’d never heard it called praying before, she thought, as she sucked on the swollen knob of his cock. She hoped God was watching.
The stone floor was cold and hard on her knees, but her body was hot. Father Lawrence had obviously lost his morals a while ago, and he grunted with unashamed delight as she licked and sucked him. Anna’s sex burnt with the wickedness of it. Father Lawrence made Peter Galloway seem positively conservative. A few weeks ago, having a priest expose himself to her would have shocked her rigid. Now, she accepted it. Everyone, it seemed, had their own secret agenda. Lurid fantasies festered just beneath the skin, and you only had to lightly scratch the surface and they would ooze out.
The priest groaned loudly and jerked his penis out of her mouth, dribbling his warm come over her lips and throat. Both his hands were through the curtain now, and he roughly pulled her up on her feet. His fingers tore blindly at her robe, pushing it off her. He turned her around. ‘Bend over,’ he barked. ‘Prostrate yourself in front of the Lord. Let him look into your soul.’
Anna had always wondered exactly where her soul was. Now she knew.
He slipped two fingers between her fleshy labia. He mumbled the Hail Mary again and again as he stroked the ridged walls of her sex. He delved deeper, reaching into her succulent moistness; reaching for her soul, perhaps. ‘You’re wet with sin. Let Him hear your cry for mercy,’ he wailed, grabbing on to her hips. ‘Repent, you fallen woman!’
She repented, shouting out God’s name as His servant rammed his length inside her. She held on to the bench with all her might, steadying herself against his ferocious thrusting. He was remorseless, pumping into her honeysoaked pussy as if his energy was fuelled by a higher power. ‘Whore,’ he cursed, sliding in and out, in and out. ‘You slut, you filthy wanton.’
‘Yes,’ she moaned, as he rammed in up to the hilt. ‘Oh yes,’ as his heavy balls banged between her legs. A giggle simmered in her stomach at the idea that the Institute’s nearest neighbour was a priest with a custom-built confessional. Father Lawrence’s religion was about as corrupt as Galloway’s science. Was there something in the water up here?
Her smile turned to a grimace as he withdrew. Her sex clasped desperately at the emptiness, wanting him back. But he was dribbling over her again, spurting his juices into her crack. Anna felt her tightly pursed anus oozing with the fluid as it spilt. She heard his breathing, deep and eerily steady, as his fingers worked the stickiness into her puckered rim. He dipped inside her pussy, gathering the juices spilling from her slit and spreading them upward into her cleft. He took a long time over his task, diligently lubricating her and poking his fingertip into her bottom. Anna felt another erection brush against her inner thigh, then he held her tight and pushed his way inside her arse.
‘Oh God, oh help me please,’ she begged. It was too much, too soon after yesterday’s plundering of her body. Thankfully it was too much for him, as well. The tightness of her most secret hole must have shocked him, because he moaned with ecstasy and slowed his strokes right down. Relishing the sensation of stretching her arsehole, he slid in and out with calm steadiness. The frenzied pace of before was gone. It was as if he wanted to savour every second; every forbidden inch of her inner flesh. His gradual, inexorable progress in and out of her quivering buttocks was delicious torment for Anna, and it brought tears to her eyes — but it was a bearable agony. The nerves inside her anus had been rubbed raw by yesterday’s ordeal, and she couldn’t have coped with another onslaught like that one.
But Father Lawrence had savoured her enough. Anna’s lips pulled back over her teeth as he thrust forcefully into her helpless body. The pleasure was so close to pain it was enough to turn a sane person into a quivering, gibbering wreck. It was like having a fist buried deep inside her pelvis, right in the core of her where she couldn’t reach it. She could do nothing but let out strangulated cries as the fist rubbed over her raw and bloody innards, searing her flesh. The friction sparked a fire which flickered just under her brain. It was impossible to endure. Anna closed her eyes, shut off her mind and succumbed to the darkness. ***
Curled up on the hard floor, Anna began to shiver as the heat of a million orgasms rapidly subsided. Sitting up, she pulled her crumpled bathrobe back on and let the thick towelling soak up her trembling. Gingerly, she rolled her neck. The ferocious sex had left her body in a state of deep relaxation, but it hadn’t done much for her whiplash.
She didn’t have the energy to move. Hugging her knees, she sat in the dark confessional with only the flickering candlelight for company. Father Lawrence had left her — gone to pray for his own forgiveness, perhaps. Anna shook her head, wondering whether anyone would ever believe what she’d just done. She couldn’t get her head round it. She wasn’t that surprised to come across a kinky priest — after all, anyone who took a vow of chastity had to be a little suspect. It was like a child promising his mother that he wouldn’t eat sweets; as soon as her back was turned he’d be gorging himself. The surprising part in all of this was that Father Lawrence had taken a risk in assuming that Anna would comply. She had, of course, but her willingness didn’t shock her any more. ‘You’re addicted to sexual submission,’ the priest had said. It was true. The thrill of seducing a man had never felt as good as this — the feeling of giving her body for a man to use. The men she’d dominated seemed dull and boring now compared to these men, with their rampant desires and warped, wicked minds. Father Lawrence had sensed her sharp need, just like Galloway had done. The two men shared more than the piercing grey of their eyes and the smooth syrup of their voices.
Anna slowly heaved herself to her feet and stepped out of the booth. Lighting the way with the candle, she headed back towards the vestry and the vicarage. Hearing voices, she stopped and strained to listen. There were people outside, in the churchyard — men, talking and laughing. She moved towards the sound. Putting the candlestick down, she stepped up on to a pew and peered out of the stained-glass window.
She caught her breath. Her heart did a double beat as it dawned on her. It was so obvious — why hadn’t she thought of it? Father Lawrence and Dr Galloway were more than similar. They were brothers.
As she eavesdropped on their conversation, everything that had been puzzling her fitted into place. The man who’d stumbled out of the night towards her car had been the vicar, intercepting her escape. It was the good cop, bad cop routine — Anna had run from Peter’s evil clutches, straight into the arms of a priest. And who wouldn’t trust a priest? That explained the vicar’s story about his lack of phone and car. Father Lawrence’s job was to keep Anna there, and to try to persuade her to go back to the Institute. Anna listened with horror as they sniggered over her willingness in the confession box. She’d fallen right into their trap. It was petrifying to think that they knew her better than she did.
Peter thanked his brother and walked out of sight. A car started up and the sound of its engine moved off into the distance. Anna sat down on the pew and tried valiantly to gather her thoughts.
Chapter Eleven
She looked out of the window at the distant mountains as the Institute’s gate opened for the car. Father Lawrence had claimed it was a minor miracle when Joan happened to call in at the church, only ten minutes after Anna had told him she wanted to return to the Institute. So much for your phone being out of order, she thought, you lying, conniving, perverted bastard. She’d had enough of being manipulated. She’d been a fool to be taken in by the thrill of all their games. But she wouldn’t fall for it again. She was back at the Institute for one reason only — to complete her investigation.
Joan kept up a stony silence as she marched Anna up to her room. She watched with folded arms and pursed lips as Anna showered. Roughly, she dressed her in her tight, white uniform again, scratching with her nails as she fastened Anna’s suspenders. Scratch me as hard as you want, Anna thought. I’ll get back at you. I’m in control now.
She was marched into Peter’s interview room and made to stand in fr
ont of the desk. After ten minutes alone, as she stared into the mirror and wondered who was staring back from the other side, Peter came in and took his seat in front of her.
He sighed. ‘Well, Anna. What are we to do with you?’
She looked blankly at him, steeling herself against the lure of his eyes. Last night, lying awake in bed, she’d resolved to be strong. She had to be single-minded now. He could dominate her body, if that’s what it took for her to get closer to the truth, but her mind was out of bounds to him.
‘Why did you do it, Anna? Why did you run away?’
She hung her head. ‘I’m sorry, Peter, but I was afraid.’
‘Of what?’ His voice was hard, unforgiving.
She closed her eyes, feigning embarrassment. ‘Of myself. The things I’ve discovered here have changed me, for ever. It’s almost as if I’m not in control of myself any more.’
‘Why have you come back?’
Slowly, she lifted her gaze and met his. She gave him a look she knew he would love: innocence, tainted at the edges with wickedness. ‘Father Lawrence made me realise that it was useless to fight my desires. I’m not going to fight any more. I give in. What you do here — what you’ve done to me — I like it. I want it.’ She took a deep breath, prolonging the moment. ‘I need it.’
Galloway nodded wisely. ‘I know you do, Anna. I knew from the minute I saw you that your sexuality was crying out for a firm hand to guide it. You did the right thing, coming back.’ His slight smile quickly disintegrated. ‘But you’ve presented me with a problem. You’ve left us once, and the general consensus is that you should be expelled. We conduct sensitive studies here, Anna, and we do things in our spare time which would be not be understood in the world outside. The longer you stay here, the more you will discover about our work… and our play. We don’t want you to go, but we’d rather you left now than in another month’s time, when you change your mind again.’
‘But I’ve made up my mind. I won’t want to leave again.’
‘I don’t think you understand. All of our staff are completely dedicated to what we do here. They’ve agreed to live their lives within the confines of this establishment. There are big rewards for their sacrifices, but we must have that level of commitment from everybody. Our activities here have to remain strictly secret. If you decide you want to stay, that means you stay — for good.’
‘I told you, I want to stay.’ He seemed unmoved by the pleading note in her voice. ‘Please, Peter. I don’t want to go back — I can’t go back, now.’
He tutted uncertainly. ‘I’m going to have a hard job, convincing the rest of the board that you should be given a second chance. Quite frankly, you’re a risk. Our research and facilities are expensive. Training every new recruit is an investment in our future. We can’t afford risks.’
‘Peter, please… what can I do to prove my commitment? I’ll do anything.’
His gaze dropped as she eased up the hem of her dress. ‘Showing me your panties is not going to prove anything,’ he snapped. He took her hand and led her into the monitoring room. Shoving her into the seat, he whipped the belt from his trousers. Wrapping the leather around her wrists, he buckled them tightly together in front of her. He went to the cupboard and retrieved a video cassette. Sliding it into a video recorder, he pressed play. Anna watched as she appeared on the screen, dressed obscenely in her revealing waitress outfit.
‘I suggest you watch this carefully, Anna. Watch your face as you come. If those are the sort of feelings that frighten you, then you’re clearly not strong enough to stay here.’ He bent close to her, brushing her ear with his mouth. ‘It takes a brave person to surrender. Are you brave enough to surrender to me?’
Anna looked round as he walked out. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To discuss your future here,’ he said over his shoulder.
‘It might be an idea for you to give it some thought as well. When I come back, I’ll have thought of some way you can prove your allegiance to me, and the Institute.’
Turning round, Anna was startled by the image on the monitor. As an extreme close-up showed the curved dildo being swallowed up by her open pussy lips, she groaned and tried to free her hands.
‘So what do we do with her?’ Dr Jeffries asked.
Peter stared at the credit card, as if it would give him the answer. He looked at the other things he’d found secreted in Anna’s car: the dictaphone, the camera, the mobile phone keypad and its microphone. It had taken them a while to find that, hidden in the speakers.
In a way, he was pleased. It proved that his intuition was still infallible. Anna was a spy, sent from another lab to uncover the secrets they’d gone to such pains to hide. She knew a lot already, but not enough. The cloning theory she’d shared with Simon would be scoffed at, should she tell it to any other scientist. It would be just about safe to expel her now, with only vague suspicions and no hard evidence.
But Peter didn’t want to expel her; neither did Joan, or Simon, or anyone who had seen her swinging from those cuffs in the observation room. Anna was the most willing subject they had ever recruited. But she was also more intelligent than most, and more likely to have ethical questions about the donation they would ask her to make. And she was a mole.
Peter took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes and looking up at the ceiling as he weighed it up. He knew Anna was wavering, caught between her task as an infiltrator and the pleasures she’d been subjected to. The Institute was a dream come true for a girl like her: a place where she could fully explore the darker side of her psyche. She did like it here, but did she really want to forsake the outside world? Had her hungry sexuality won out over her professional pride? Could he really allow himself to believe she had surrendered?
‘She’ll stay,’ he decided.
There was sucking in of breath, tutting and other sounds of disapproval all around the table. ‘I think you’re making a mistake, Peter,’ Sullivan said. ‘She’s too risky. How can we be sure she won’t run away again?’
‘She won’t. I’m sure of it.’
Jeffries shook his head. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’
‘I do,’ Peter snapped, unable to keep the indignation out of his voice. ‘Have I ever been wrong before? Was I wrong about her being a spy? Anna wants to stay. What do you think, darling?’
Joan gave him a reassuring smile. ‘If you’re happy, then I am. You know I don’t want to get rid of her.’
Peter nodded. ‘At least I can rely on my wife to trust my judgement.’
‘We trust you,’ Dr Jeffries said. ‘It’s Anna we’re not sure about.’
‘In that case, I suggest you all make your way to the observation room.’
‘Why?’ Joan asked eagerly.
‘Because I’d like you all to witness Anna’s transformation from new recruit into full staff member. It’s time for Anna to make her decision. I’m going to persuade her that staying is the only option. Give me an hour with her, and I promise she’ll never set foot out of that door again.’
‘And what about the extraction?’
Galloway looked at Sullivan and smiled. ‘You’ll have your piece of Anna by lunchtime.’ ***
Anna was almost sobbing with frustration when he returned. Grabbing the tightly wound belt, he pulled her to her feet. He delved between her legs, making her jump with the suddenness of the movement. Her panties were sodden.
Peter dragged her through his office and into the room beyond. He lifted her up on to the medical trolley and told her to lie down. Ignoring her questions, he wheeled the trolley out into the corridor and through the black doorway. He smiled proudly at the professionalism of his staff as he steered the bed into the first cell. They were all there waiting, just as he had instructed. Anna’s eyes widened as she looked around at the faceless men. It was an imposing sight: rows of leather-clad guards lining two of the walls. They were motionless, standing to attention with silent poise worthy of the Grenadier Guards. But Galloway’s troops
wore more provocative uniforms than the Queen’s. Their faces were covered with black hoods, only their eyes, nostrils and mouths vaguely visible through the holes. Their torsos were bare, their wide, muscular chests glistening with oil just as he’d asked. They wore black leather trousers, tight around the hips so their erections would be seen pushing against the soft calfskin. A couple already had distinct bulges in their pants. To complete the effect, they had heavy-soled leather boots on their feet. Peter suspected the Queen would look a lot happier if she swapped her guard of honour for his.
He parked the bed in the centre of the room and put on the brake. Clicking his fingers, he summoned two of the guards to undress her. They eagerly complied, taking every opportunity to touch her as they unbuttoned her dress and rolled down her stockings. Unsure of what to do or where to look, Anna gazed up at Peter as one man squeezed her breasts, while the other moved behind her and unhooked her bra. This is it, Anna, he thought. You’ve got a mind of steel if you don’t succumb to this.
He was aroused by her self-consciousness as she hugged her knees to her chest and looked around at the men. It was impossible to tell whether they were ogling her from behind their hoods, and Anna clearly found their stillness unnerving. Peter was glad; he wanted her to feel a little shame and fear. It would heighten the experience if she did.
Right on cue, Suraya came in with her equipment. She was a dark-skinned beauty of Indian descent, and her deliciously dusky skin was sullied by the tawdriness of her outfit — a red satin version of the one Anna had worn yesterday. Peter winked at Suraya as she placed the basin of water on the bed. She’d come to the Institute to escape an arranged marriage, and had ended up being dominated in far more exotic ways than a husband would have offered her. But it had been her choice to stay, just as it would be Anna’s.
Anna grew even more uncomfortable as she watched Suraya prepare. Her eyes flickered worriedly to Peter. He just smiled as Suraya pushed her back on to the bed. She bent Anna’s legs and spread them wide apart. Hoisting her agile body up on to the end of the trolley, Suraya crouched between Anna’s knees.
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