Seven Scarlet Tales

by Justine Elyot

  ‘What do you think of that rule, Rob?’ Richard whispered. ‘That rule about Emma not being allowed to come? Do you think we should give that a try some time?’

  ‘No,’ whimpered Lucy, grinding away.

  Rob put his hand between Lucy’s thighs and began to rub at her clitoris.

  ‘She’d never make it,’ he said. ‘She’d fail that test straight away.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ said Richard. ‘She doesn’t realise, does she, that her orgasm doesn’t belong to her. It belongs to us. She gets it when we feel she deserves it. Don’t you think?’

  ‘Might be fun to try sometime,’ gasped Rob, redder in the face now and damper on the brow.

  ‘Maybe not tonight,’ conceded Richard. He tightened his hold on her hips. ‘Hope you’re not too close. You’ve got a long way to go yet.’

  He let go of her then and pushed her spine downwards so that she lay almost flat on Rob’s chest, altering the angle at which he was fucking her.

  Now Rob had hold of Lucy’s hips and Richard was free to lubricate between her bottom cheeks, which had become temptingly available in a rudely displayed invitation.

  ‘Oh God,’ gasped Lucy. She knew what was coming.

  Richard smiled and pushed his fingers further.

  It had become an unspoken competition between himself and Rob: who would get the front door and who the back? Somehow, taking her anally seemed to score more kudos points, though neither had ever discussed it. But they jockeyed for this position every time and the one who lost was always obscurely resentful.

  Tonight, I win, thought Richard, mentally totting up the number of times he had been the victor in their double penetration game. He made it four to Rob’s three. Got to keep on top.

  ‘What’s the matter, Lucy?’ asked Richard, thrusting two fingers in and out of her. ‘You must have been expecting this. You know perfectly well that when we three get together your arse is going to get filled at some point. Don’t you?’ He jabbed and she wriggled violently.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she admitted.

  ‘You’d be disappointed if it wasn’t. Wouldn’t you.’

  She made an incoherent sound, perhaps hoping that it would stand in for this humiliating confession.

  Richard shook his head. Surely she knew him better than that.

  ‘Wouldn’t you?’ he repeated, holding his fingers all the way in and twisting them.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she said hurriedly, breathlessly, the words mutating into a moan. Rob must be rubbing up against her g-spot. Richard needed to get inside her before she lost control of herself.

  ‘Still, Lucy,’ he commanded.

  It was Rob who obeyed the order, though, holding her in place so that Richard could start inserting his long, stiff rod into her compact passage.

  Lucy had had this so many times, and yet she never seemed to get used to it. There was always that moment, not quite all the way in, when she insisted it was never going to fit and she couldn’t take it. It had almost become ritual and, for Richard, it made this ceremony all the sweeter.

  Tonight was no exception.

  ‘Oh God, I can’t,’ she panted. ‘I just can’t. Please!’

  ‘You know you can.’

  He held her by her round breasts and eased himself all the way up, the tight fit making his head swim with pleasure.

  ‘There,’ said Rob. ‘I know he’s in now. I can feel it, too. You’re exactly where you belong now, Luce. Exactly.’

  Richard took up the theme. ‘This is your place in the world. Between your masters, filled with their cocks. Wherever else you might go, you always know that you aren’t where you belong until you’re here. It’s true, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Take a moment to enjoy being in your special place.’

  All three of them held their positions. Richard didn’t know what the other two were feeling, but he knew that the rest of life was anticlimactic compared to being here, snug in Lucy’s rear, held close in her hot clutches.

  They began to move very slowly, experimentally, tiny twitches. Richard ground his hips, Rob did likewise. Lucy, on the receiving end of both their efforts, snuffled and whimpered.

  They kept up this economy of motion for as long as they could, using their hands and mouths to increase her stimulation, sometimes clashing, two hands on the same breast, both mouths on her neck simultaneously.

  Richard would start the thrusting, then Rob would try to complement it, so that as one pushed forward, the other pulled back. This was not easy to achieve or sustain, though, and the rhythm often faltered. Not that it seemed to worry Lucy, who was kicking her feet and pummelling the mattress, so very close to her orgasm now.

  ‘Oh, I’m going to … I’m going to …’

  Richard sped up then and started to make his thrusts big and punishing. Lucy buried her head in Rob’s shoulder, jerking between them as if trying to escape, but of course, that was out of the question.

  He kept going as she yelped and twisted beneath him. She always came so hard like this, as if her very essence was being ripped from her. Perhaps it was.

  Once she was limp and spent, he and Rob moved to their savage endgame. Who would be last to come? Nobody wanted to finish first.

  Richard had to concede. It was much easier to hold off in Rob’s position – the only drawback of winning his rear occupancy. He held Lucy by the neck and poured himself into her, swearing as he emptied. Then he had to wait for Rob, enjoying the sensation of his softening inside the dark recess, deliberately not looking at his rival’s face. He didn’t need to see it.

  Afterwards, they lay Lucy on her back and held her and kissed her all over. She was always a little faint after these occasions, and in need of reassurance that she was treasured and adored for her permissiveness, and not reviled.

  Richard understood that what they did together took her to a dark and secret centre of herself and afterwards she was shatterably vulnerable. He took his time with her, as did Rob, showing her how grateful they both were for the licenses she granted them.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ he said, when she had been kissed and loved back into herself.

  ‘I wasn’t sure at first,’ she said. ‘I’m still not sure I’d want to go as far as Emma goes. But it’s so interesting. People do these things so differently, and yet the world calls them all the same thing. Perverts, freaks, kinky weirdoes.’

  ‘The world.’ Rob kissed her nipple. ‘You know what we think of that.’

  ‘You’re my world,’ she said seriously. ‘The two of you. I don’t want to live anywhere else.’

  The phone shrilled out downstairs, making all three of them jump.

  ‘What the fuck?’ said Rob. ‘That’s the second time tonight.’

  They lay drowsing, listening to Blake’s indistinct voice.

  ‘Rich,’ he called.

  Richard sat up.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ he muttered, running a hand through his hair. ‘Who is it?’ he called.

  ‘Allyson.’

  ‘Allyson? But she’s—’

  ‘I heard the door go earlier,’ said Lucy. ‘But hadn’t she been drinking? She can’t have driven anywhere. Maybe she went for a midnight walk and got lost?’

  Richard grunted his dismissal of these ideas, pulled on his dressing gown and went to the phone.

  ‘Where is she?’ he asked Blake, who handed him the receiver.

  ‘Don’t know. She only wants to talk to you.’

  Blake, bad-tempered at being woken, threw himself back on the camp bed.

  ‘Allyson, what the fuck’s going on? We’re trying to sleep here.’

  ‘Never mind that. Something’s happened and I need your help.’

  ‘What? Where are you?’

  ‘You don’t need to know that. I want you to promise me something. It’s important. I don’t want to blackmail you, but I know and you know …’

  ‘Allyson, Jesus! What is this?’

  ‘I want you to promise
you’ll take care of Emma.’

  ‘Take care of her? Why? Where are you going?’

  ‘Probably to prison. You’ll see. But I don’t want to talk about that. Promise me.’

  ‘OK, I promise. Take care of her how?’

  ‘You know people. I want you to find a place for her.

  Somewhere out of the country. Maybe a new passport, identity, that kind of thing. Get her to safety. Can you do that for me?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can try, I suppose.’

  ‘You’ve got to. It’s important. If I can’t save Emma, then …’

  He heard her gasp for breath. Tough-as-old-boots Allyson, the only woman he’d ever been afraid of, was on the verge of tears.

  His stomach lurched. Something bad was happening here.

  ‘Please, Richard,’ she whispered. ‘It’s all I care about. Please look after her for me.’

  ‘Of course. I will. Of course.’

  ‘Thanks. You’re a mate. I owe you one, OK? She’ll be with you soon; she’s driving back to the cottage in my car. Try and get her out of the UK as quickly as you can, right?’

  ‘OK. I’ll make some calls.’

  ‘See you in a few years then.’

  ‘Al!’

  But she’d hung up.

  Peregrine Sands was enjoying some late-night drama, but he was nowhere near a theatre.

  Instead, Callie Reddish was bound, hand and foot, to an interesting cross-shaped apparatus he’d ordered from a fetish furniture catalogue. It made a splendid addition to his apartment, he decided, especially when an attractive naked woman was lashed to it with leather ties, having her shapely bottom flogged by her other boyfriend. Leo never put quite enough finesse into the operation for Peregrine’s tastes. He was enthusiastic, but amateur. Just as he was as an actor.

  ‘No, Leo, you need to hold it differently.’

  Peregrine stepped up, took the whip from Leo’s hand and demonstrated a grip that facilitated stronger, more compact lashings.

  He laid ten such on Callie’s reddening rear, enjoying her little mewls of pain.

  ‘Ah, I get you,’ said Leo. ‘Give us the whip again.’

  ‘Better.’ Peregrine watched, stroking his chin, as Leo tried hard to hold back and flog with a little more elegance.

  ‘How much do you think she should get?’

  ‘How much do you want to give?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Peregrine sighed. Leo wasn’t his ablest pupil. He tolerated the young man for Callie’s sake really: she had this silly fondness for him. She also kept dropping hints that she wanted menage sex, but Peregrine had no wish to share a bed with the fellow.

  ‘Do you want me to finish off?’

  Leo handed Peregrine the whip again.

  Peregrine thrashed Callie until she was incoherent, then laid a few upward flicks on her pussy, just for an encore.

  ‘If you want to fuck her, Leo, take her to the spare bedroom. The bed’s made up. You can call a cab from here once you’ve finished.’

  Peregrine poured himself a brandy and sat down with a book, pretending not to watch Leo release Callie from her bonds and carry her out of the room.

  It was hard work, being stylishly heartless, sometimes. Harder work trying to read with moans of ecstasy drifting into your ears. Leo could at least have shut the door. But no. Even that was too daunting a challenge for the great lummox.

  The moans of ecstasy mingled with something else after a while. It took Peregrine a few moments to identify the gentle beeping of his phone.

  He looked at the clock. It was after midnight. Usually only lovers called at such times.

  Feeling optimistic, even though he would have to postpone whomever it was for Callie, he picked up the call.

  Cousin Richard? Odd.

  ‘Sweet coz,’ he said, putting the phone to his ear. ‘What is amiss?’

  ‘We’ve got a situation on our hands.’

  ‘Do we indeed? At this time of night the only situation I want on my hands is a brunette one with a firm pair of buttocks.’

  ‘Well, that pretty much describes her, actually.’

  ‘Oh?’ Peregrine shifted in his seat, holding the phone closer to his ear. ‘Do tell.’

  ‘Emma Frayne from the Geisha Garden.’

  ‘A personal favourite of mine. What about her?’

  ‘Allyson’s been busted over something, I’m not sure what, and Emma needs to go into hiding. I can sort out plane tickets, paperwork and all that, but I don’t know where to send her. I don’t know anyone much overseas. I thought you might.’

  ‘Why on earth? Has the club been raided? Is she going to name names?’

  ‘Al wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘There isn’t an awful lot Allyson Bruce wouldn’t do, Richard,’ he said sharply. ‘I’ve known her longer than you have. She’s a pragmatist, loyal to her own skin.’

  ‘She loves Emma, genuinely loves her. If you help her, she’ll keep your name out of it.’

  ‘Well, there might be something in that. Leave it with me, Richard. I’ll make some calls.’

  ‘Thanks. But we’ll need an answer by the morning. She can’t stay here longer than tonight. We all have to clear out of here as soon as we can.’

  ‘What a marvellous screenplay this would make.’

  ‘Yes, Peregrine. Goodnight.’

  ‘Right.’

  Allyson climbed back into the car and looked through the windscreen for a long time, her hands cupped round the cardboard coffee cup, before speaking again.

  ‘Did you call Richard?’ asked Emma.

  ‘Yeah. Told him to expect you back. He’s going to take care of you.’

  ‘What does that mean? Take care of me?’

  Allyson shrugged. ‘He’s all right, is Rich. He’ll think of something. Hey, don’t look so …’

  She put down the coffee, placed a hand on Emma’s thigh and squeezed it tight.

  ‘I want to come with you.’

  ‘You can’t.’

  ‘When will I see you again?’

  ‘I don’t know. One fine day. Somewhere over the rainbow. Oh, love, don’t cry.’

  ‘I don’t want you to go. Come with me. We can both make a run for it. Thelma and Louise.’

  ‘You’re an old romantic, Em, aren’t you? No, sweetheart. They won’t come after you but they’d come after me. I ain’t got nowhere to hide from McKenna, except prison, and I’ll take that. Prison’s not that bad.’

  ‘You’ve been there before?’

  ‘Yeah, didn’t I ever tell you? Problem child, I was. Spent a lot of my teens in and out of the slammer. Girls don’t go as bad as me without a bit of help from their criminal friends. I didn’t just wake up one day and think, I know, I’ll get involved in organised crime. By the time you realise what you’ve let yourself in for, you’re already in it up to your neck.’

  ‘Is it really too late?’

  ‘Believe me, darling, if I could turn back the clock … But there’s no use thinking like that. I am what I am. I ain’t proud of myself. But I’m proud of you, and of having a girl like you. I know I’m going to prison and the one thing that’ll make it bearable for me is if I know you’re all right. So be all right, Em. For me.’

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered, tears raining from her eyes.

  ‘I know. I love you too.’

  The coffee was kicked over in the course of the kiss that followed, soaking the passenger footwell.

  When Allyson left the car again, her shoes were wet and squelchy.

  ‘Go,’ she said, gesturing violently towards the access road to the motorway.

  Emma wound down the window.

  ‘I don’t know if I can,’ she said desperately.

  ‘Listen, girl.’ Allyson leant in at the window and spoke firmly and deliberately. ‘Next time I see you – and there will be a next time, and it’ll be sooner than you think – I’m going to take your knickers down and give you the spanking of your life. So think about that. Think a
bout it every night, darling. I know I will. Now go, or I’ll drag you in the coffee shop and do it right there.’

  She stepped back and watched Emma wind the window back up.

  The car remained stationary for a few moments more, then the engine revved and Emma reversed out of the parking space. She didn’t look back at Allyson again.

  Allyson watched the tail lights until they turned the final corner and their glow faded to nothing. Then she returned to the telephone box, looking up McKenna’s number on her mobile as she trudged.

  Two Years Later

  ‘Have you read it?’

  Richard, trying to concentrate on leaving the freeway at the correct exit, didn’t reply for a minute or two.

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘So what’s it about?’

  ‘I’ll give you three guesses.’

  ‘It can’t be a porn movie! Are you saying it’s got spanking in it?’ Lucy almost bounced in her seat.

  ‘It’s not a porn movie. At least, he says it’s not. He says it’s a, what was it, modern and sophisticated take on an age-old fascination.’

  ‘It’s a spanking movie.’

  ‘Yeah. I think it is. With a lot of witty dialogue in between and a bittersweet love story and all that but, basically, a spanking movie.’

  ‘Got to hand it to Peregrine,’ said Rob reverently, looking up from the sat nav receiver. ‘He’s the don. Left here, I think, Rich.’

  ‘Wow, oh my God, look, the Hollywood sign!’

  Lucy was beside herself with excitement now. As if she hadn’t been Tiggerish enough for the last twelve hours. Both Richard and Rob had had to warn her repeatedly to let them read their book or watch their in-flight movie in peace. While Richard waited at the baggage carousel, Rob had taken her into a disabled lavatory and given her half a minute’s worth of disciplinary attention with her knickers down and hands on the seat.

  People milling outside had almost certainly heard them, but that just made Lucy feel smug, watching the suitcases ride by, knowing that the whispers opposite were about her and her bottom.

  ‘Which studio did you say it was, Richard?’

  ‘Maximo.’

  ‘OK, that one is two blocks up and … I’m not sure if that’s a one way street … No, I think it’s fine.’

  ‘Oh my God, look, that’s where they film Jimmy, Jo & Co. The outside of the coffee shop, I mean!’