‘Shh, Poppy, you know, I would love to. I would love to fuck you all night. But I can’t. I really can’t. Listen to me. I’m going to give you my number. If you need me for anything, just call me. If anything happens at the club, will you tell me?’
‘What do you mean by “anything”?’
‘Anything at all. To you, to another girl, to a client.’
‘You want me to be your informant?’
‘I will pay, of course.’
‘You mean all of this was to get me to—’
‘No, no. I know these people, these club people. I know their associates, I know what they do. I worry for you, Poppy. I need to know you are OK. Will you keep my number? Will you call me if you want a friend?’
She nodded, sobered by the seriousness of his tone.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘I wish I could take you away from it, but …’ He shrugged. ‘It must be your decision.’
‘Right.’
She watched while he reached for his wallet and took from it a business card, which he slipped inside her bra. Then he took out a condom packet.
For a second, she thought he must have changed his mind. But he took the condom out of the wrapper and then threw it into the wastepaper basket, along with the foil.
‘For safety,’ he said.
‘What if Emma sees that the condom isn’t used?’
‘You think she will look so close? I don’t. Come on. Let’s get to it.’
They spent five minutes bucking and jerking around on the mattress, gasping and groaning for effect, until Poppy judged that the time was right to fake her orgasm and Bruno grunted in unison.
Oh, if only it could be real, she thought, lying back on the pillows while Bruno tried to make sure the bed looked rumpled enough. If only he could be her French cop boyfriend, about to make her some strong coffee and smoke a Gauloise after hours and hours of sex. Why could they not, just this once, break a rule?
‘I wish we could,’ she said, reclaiming her breath after all the hysterical huffing and puffing.
He stroked her forehead.
‘So do I,’ he said, looking down at her. ‘Believe me. But not tonight, petit coquelicqot.’
‘Now I’ll be measuring up all the clients in the club against you. I think I’m in for a lot of disappointment.’
‘You know you can call me any time.’
‘Yes. Thanks.’
‘OK, I think you have to go now. If you stay longer, I will have to take off your panties.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t stop myself.’ He raised his voice and called, ‘We are finished, you can come in.’
Poppy left the bed reluctantly and pulled her dress back on.
She couldn’t quite trust herself to look at Emma at first, convinced that something in her face would give the game away.
But Emma’s attention was on Bruno anyway, watching him lounge in the bed, mostly undressed, jabbing at buttons on his phone.
‘I hope you didn’t let him take pictures,’ she said to Poppy.
‘Oh, no, I didn’t.’
‘Good. If you showed up on a sex tube site Allyson wouldn’t be amused.’
Bruno reached for his wallet again.
‘Here,’ he said, counting out a wad of notes and proffering them.
‘Oh,’ said Poppy. ‘But …’
‘Take it,’ he hissed through clenched teeth. ‘Now.’
‘Thanks.’ She put the money in her jeans pocket without counting it.
‘Is it all there, love?’ Emma prompted her. ‘I hope you agreed the price up front.’
‘Yeah, I trust him.’
Emma laughed. ‘You really are green, aren’t you? Never mind. We’ll soon sort you out. Ready to go?’
Poppy slipped on her ballerina pumps and grabbed her jacket from the bedside chair.
‘I guess. Well, goodbye then.’
They were turning to leave, Poppy with some regret that Bruno hadn’t offered her so much as a farewell kiss, when the door began to bang and a man started shouting in rapid French.
‘Putain, he is drunk, ignore him,’ said Bruno, running to the door and admitting a blotchy-faced middle-aged man, who stank of beer and red wine.
Emma and Poppy were in the corridor, the sounds of an altercation between Bruno and the drunkard floating behind them, before either of them spoke.
Emma pressed the lift button.
‘Did you know he was a cop?’
Poppy felt her stomach twist.
‘What? How do you know?’
‘I speak French. They’re clearly both cops, it was obvious from the conversation they were having. You did know, didn’t you, Poppy?’
‘I …’ She couldn’t lie. The elevator mirror showed her cheeks a bright, unhappy scarlet.
‘What did you tell him?’
The lift door opened and Emma marched, holding Poppy by the wrist, out on to the street.
‘What did you tell him?’
‘Nothing, nothing. He just wanted to know if I’d taken the job willingly, and I said yes. Honestly, that was all.’
Poppy was disgusted with herself at the tears leaking from her eyes, but it had been a weird evening and she couldn’t seem to stop them.
‘Shh, all right, don’t make a scene. Come on.’
The pair of them sat down on the hotel steps, Emma wincing slightly, obviously still affected by the previous day’s episode with the cane.
‘He fucked you and he paid you for the fuck,’ mused Emma. ‘He could get into trouble for that. Now I wish you had got some photos.’
‘He isn’t out to make trouble, I swear. He’s on some kind of research trip.’
Emma shook her head. ‘Where did you come from, girl? Did they shake you out of a tree?’
Poppy rubbed her eyes, trying to blot out the tears.
‘I’ll get the sack, won’t I?’
‘No, no, you’ll be all right. I’ll take care of it. I’ll cover for you. But you have to tell me exactly what you told him. Did he ask about the club?’
‘Only about whether the girls did it of their own free will. Oh, and he asked about Allyson.’
Emma inhaled sharply. ‘He knew Allyson was in charge?’
‘No, he wanted to know who was in charge.’
‘And you told him? Shit. She won’t like that.’
Poppy started to cry again.
‘I’ve told you, I’ll cover for you,’ said Emma, testily. ‘I’ll say we shagged him as a duo and it was my idea.’
‘But then you’ll lose your job.’
‘Oh, no, I won’t lose my job. Me and Allyson, let’s just say we have an understanding.’
Poppy didn’t understand what Emma meant, but she was too tired to protest further, and fell gratefully into the cab Emma hailed, ready to erase the night.
Poppy checked her phone after her nine o’clock lecture and saw that she had a missed call from the club.
She phoned back and was treated to a terse, ‘Poppy, get to the club, quick as you can,’ from Allyson.
‘I have to go to the library,’ she began to protest, but Allyson cut her off.
‘Now.’
‘I’ll be half an hour.’
‘Good.’
She clicked off without a goodbye. Poppy had to sit on the wall and catch her breath. Trouble. What had Emma said? Had she kept her word and covered for her?
She thought of calling Bruno and telling him that his secret was out, but she had an irrational fear, now, that perhaps the club’s owners were having her phone tapped, and she didn’t dare.
By the time she arrived at the seedy little alley where the side door was hidden, Poppy’s legs would hardly carry her.
One of the bouncers responded to her faint-hearted knocking, and took her upstairs without a word, clearly expecting her.
Inside the office, Allyson sat on her side of the desk, reading the newspaper, it seemed. Poppy didn’t see Emma at first until suddenly she noticed her, standing in shadows with her nose in the corner. She w
as wearing a pair of leather hotpants and a corset, pretty odd attire for this time of the morning, Poppy thought.
Allyson put down her paper and glared.
Poppy cowered.
‘One day on the job and already you’re here in front of me,’ said Allyson with a sigh. ‘Please don’t tell me I’ve made a mistake, Poppy. I don’t like mistakes.’
‘I didn’t mean any— I’m sorry.’
‘All right. Sit down. Emma’s told me all about last night.’
‘Has she?’
‘Yes, and it was very good of her to come and help you out with your first punter. Pity he turned out to be the wrong sort. I can forgive you, in your inexperience, for not realising sooner, but Emma should really know better.’
‘She was only trying to help me.’ Poppy whispered.
‘I appreciate that, but she was indiscreet and she has to be punished. And you, my dear, can take a lesson from witnessing her punishment. And, for future reference, you don’t tell anyone anything about this place. Got that? You can lie, you can evade, you can tell them what you like, as long as it isn’t the truth. I thought one of the other girls would have made that clear, but they obviously had their eye off the ball last night.’
Allyson got up and leant over the desk, taking Poppy’s chin between her finger and thumb.
‘You do understand me, don’t you?’
Poppy nodded, a restricted little shiver of a nod.
‘Right. Now watch and learn what happens to silly girls who can’t keep their mouths shut.’
Allyson opened her desk drawer, and shunted everything that lay on the surface down into it, until only the polished veneer remained. Then she took out a rolled-up padded mat, which she laid out flat on the desktop.
‘Here, slut,’ she said, patting it, and Emma came out of her corner and climbed up on to the mat on all fours. While Allyson and Poppy watched, she laid her head down against the padding and pushed out her backside. The leather shorts were so brief that they exposed a large portion of her bottom, the edges of the cane welts peeking out, now a purplish pink colour.
‘You’ve been disgracing yourself this week,’ said Allyson softly, running a frighteningly manicured magenta nail along one of the welts. ‘Mr Sands had to cane you for saying too much, and now you’re in the same position again, only two days later. I think we should keep you in a ball gag, my dear, don’t you?’
‘If you wish, ma’am.’
‘Yes, I do wish.’
She opened the lower drawer again and took out a length of black elastic with a bright red rubber ball in the middle of it. Poppy watched, half-enthralled and half-horrified, as Allyson tied it around Emma’s head, pushing the ball between her teeth.
‘You can wear that for work tonight and your customer will know you’ve been a naughty blabbermouth. And I hope he’ll spank you all the harder for it.’
Emma said nothing. Well, how could she?
Allyson returned to her rear and reached underneath to loosen the leather hotpants. When she pulled them down over Emma’s bum, Poppy saw that she was naked underneath. Her pale bottom wore nothing but the silvery purple streaks left by the cane.
‘Hmm, how are these feeling, I wonder?’ Allyson asked, squeezing and pinching the welts with cruel satisfaction. Emma couldn’t answer verbally, but she twisted this way and that, gasping through her gag. Presumably they still hurt, then. Poppy grimaced in sympathy.
‘Yes, I see that face, madam,’ said Allyson, turning her attention to the younger girl. ‘You don’t want to be in this position, do you? So make sure you’re careful in future because, believe me, I wouldn’t think twice about pulling down your knickers and giving you the hiding of a lifetime. In fact, it would be a pleasure. So think on that. Right. What am I going for today?’
Allyson stepped back, chin in hand, contemplating Emma’s vulnerable backside.
‘Got to make it hurt, of course. And I know this girl, Poppy, I know what she can take. She loves to be whipped, so I’ve got to take her past that and make it count. What would you recommend, love? Hmm?’
‘Me? You’re asking me?’
‘That’s right, sweetheart. You heard me. So?’
Allyson folded her arms, waiting.
Poppy could not, for the life of her, imagine how she would punish somebody. The thought had never even occurred to her. And when it was somebody who was taking the rap for her own silly mistake?
‘I don’t know.’
‘Tell you what, I’ll get a few bits and pieces out and you can choose.’
Allyson opened the drawer for a third time, grabbed a handful of items and dropped them with a clatter over the desk in front of Emma’s head.
Stealing forward, Poppy inspected a multi-stranded flogger, a spoon-shaped wooden paddle, a heavy strap with a handle and a purple fibreglass cane.
‘While you’re making up your mind …’ said Allyson, and Poppy almost jumped out of her skin, as a loud crack reverberated around the room, closely followed by a volley of repeats. Allyson had begun smacking Emma’s thighs with her hand, and Poppy jumped back as Emma began to twitch and breathe heavily through the gag.
Poppy saw that she had better hurry up if she was not going to prolong Emma’s suffering unnecessarily. Without thinking more, she snatched up the paddle and held it out to Allyson, who stopped smacking and smiled.
‘Ooh, you little bitch,’ she said. ‘This one really hurts.’
‘Look,’ blurted Poppy, ‘this isn’t fair. I wish you’d punish me instead. It was my fault.’
Allyson put down the paddle and laughed, long and low. She reached out and stroked Poppy’s hair from her face, making Poppy tremble.
‘What a little sweetie,’ she said. ‘What a brave girl. So you think you deserve a paddling too, do you?’
‘It wasn’t Emma’s fault,’ whispered Poppy, electrified by the situation. Her head was light with fear, and yet a huge exhilaration welled inside her. She had stepped off the edge of a cliff.
‘Was it your fault, Poppy?’
Poppy nodded.
‘Do you want Auntie Allyson to punish you for it?’
She didn’t know how to answer. She knew she didn’t want Emma taking what was hers by right but, on the other hand, she was hardly desperate to give Allyson license to do what she wanted with her. God knew what that might involve.
‘I don’t think it’s fair on Emma,’ she quavered. ‘If she takes all the blame.’
‘You’re a good girl,’ said Allyson. ‘What a good girl you are. Now just sit back down, sweetie, and watch. I know you don’t want Emma taking all the blame, but she’s the experienced one here and she must be punished, long and hard. That’s it. Sit tight. And learn.’
Allyson gripped the paddle by its rubber-coated handle and tapped it a few times against Emma’s bottom. Emma moaned in a kind of pre-emptive despair, as if knowing how she was going to feel. She probably did, thought Poppy.
‘Now then, Emma, you’re going to get properly paddled on your bare bum, and Poppy is going to watch every single second of it. So make sure you behave yourself and keep nice and still, or you’ll get extras with the lexan cane.’
Poppy cried out at the first stroke, even though Emma did not.
Allyson glanced over at her. ‘Sympathetic, eh? What are you like when they actually touch you? Don’t answer that. I’d like to find out for myself.’
Poppy pressed her lips together then, determined to draw no more attention to herself. She watched dully as Allyson plied the paddle, over and over, with hard, fast splats, to Emma’s already punished bottom. She saw how Emma screwed up her face and chewed on the rubber gag, how she clenched her fists and stiffened her back and tried not to react. She was so strong. Poppy was sure she couldn’t have taken half of what Emma did without leaping up and clutching her buttocks.
‘Plenty of hard swats: got to drive the lesson home,’ muttered Allyson, single-minded at her work. ‘Come here, Poppy, and look at how red her arse is now.�
��
Poppy obliged, and was duly impressed at the angry crimson flush covering Emma’s rounded cheeks down to mid-thigh. The cane welts were swelling up in the midst of the redness, darker than they had been before.
It must be agony, thought Poppy, and she rubbed her thighs together a little, feeling the dampness at their apex.
‘What do you think? Has she had enough?’
‘Yes, yes, I think so,’ said Poppy.
‘You’re soft-hearted, aren’t you, love? You couldn’t do my job. When you’re in charge of a gaff like this, with sly little sluts like Emma on your books, you have to be tough. It’s dog-eat-dog, this game.’
‘Oh. Is it?’ Poppy, way out of her depth, simply nodded sympathetically.
‘You have to understand that girls like Emma need to be reined in. They need reminding. Hard. And often.’ Allyson accompanied these words with driving swats that flattened Emma’s red buttocks. ‘You’ll notice that she hasn’t even yelled out yet.’
‘I know. I would have.’
Allyson turned and smiled indulgently.
‘Would you? Yeah, I’ll bet. So look, Poppy, I’m going to offer you a choice here.’
‘A choice?’ Poppy swallowed. Something in Allyson’s eyes was too rapt, too rapacious, for comfort.
‘Yeah.’
Allyson put down the paddle and picked up the purple cane. She held it out to Poppy.
‘You can give Emma six with this, and you’ll have to make it hard. Or you can take them yourself.’
Oh God, oh God. If she’d picked any other implement, the choice would have been clear and easy. She’d have stood in for Emma like a shot. But the cane …
She looked again at Emma’s bottom. She wanted to touch it, to feel the evidence of her suffering, so that she could make a properly informed choice. She wanted to ask Emma what she thought. But of course, Emma was in no state to express an opinion.
So she took the cane and ran her fingers along it. Then she bent it. It was made of some indestructible, shatter-proof material that would fall like a thin brand on the skin.
She couldn’t use it on Emma. She couldn’t use it on anyone.
‘I can’t cane Emma,’ she said quietly. ‘I can’t, when it’s me who …’
Allyson nodded.
‘Brave girl,’ she said, and she rubbed her shoulder with awkward approbation. ‘And I think you need this. If you’re going to be one of us.’
Seven Scarlet Tales Page 7
