When the slaves had finally got me upright again, Mr. Williamson stood in front of me, and he seemed rather pleased with himself. I, on the other hand, was trying my best not to hop from one foot to the other as the dildos did their thing.
“Impressive work, Thirty-Eight. Let me make you a deal. If you manage to complete the next two challenges they have lined up, the hour I get with you afterwards is all yours. You can use it to sleep, shower, read, whatever you like. It will be a rare chance to have some time to yourself in here. If, however, you fail – then I will be forced to punish you, and I can be creative when it comes to inflicting pain.” I didn’t doubt it. Now that he was stood in front of me, I took the opportunity to size him up, and I wasn’t impressed with what I saw. He was another one of Carte Blanche’s ubiquitous ‘suits’ and had been dealt a lethal blow in both stature and hair – he was short and bald. There was intelligence behind his sea-green eyes, but there was a mean streak, too. I wouldn’t trust him to honour his side of the bargain, but then I probably wouldn’t trust anyone here, so it hardly mattered. This man had his eyes on pound signs, but I didn’t give a flying fuck. I wasn’t going to do this for him. I would complete these challenges because I wanted to win, not because someone told me to. There was also the chance it would piss Dumortier off, and that could work in my favour. I just needed a moment alone with the bastard, preferably with my hands untied.
Nodding my head to Mr. Williamson, I acknowledged our bargain. He smiled thinly. Then it was immediately back to business, as I was led forward to challenge number two.
Chapter Twenty-One
Slaves appeared all around me and then hoisted my body into the air. A thick rope harness was placed under my arms, and a steel hook was threaded through what must have been a hole in the dildo that was firmly wedged in my ass. It was not particularly comfortable and put a great deal of pressure on parts that shouldn't have that kind of pressure attached to them.
When they had finished getting all their ropes and knots in place, I was face down and suspended in mid-air, with a great view of the floor. Looking wildly all around me for clues as to what I might have to do next, I came up blank. When one of the slaves stood in front of me and began reading from a sheet, I paid careful attention.
"Challenge number two involves a dildo," the slave brought up his hand to showcase a giant black rubber phallus, "and more swinging." He then stuck the dildo to the wall in front of me, which was at least a metre away. "She’ll need to swing her mouth all the way to the back of this beast, and a sensor at the end of the pad will be activated. This will produce an audible alarm, so she will know when she’s achieved her objective." The slave pressed down on the base of the pad to demonstrate, and sure enough, a loud beeping tone ensued. "To make things a little more interesting, we're going to place a few shards of broken glass underneath the slave, so she'll have to suck in everything that matters as she swings past unless she wants to bleed out all over the floor." All the other slaves then moved further up the room to collect an assortment of broken glass before arranging them carefully beneath me. It wasn't low enough to do any damage, though, so I didn't understand how it could be a deterrent unless… My train of thought stopped abruptly as the slave in front of me began lowering the winch that held me, and I sucked in my stomach quickly as I shot jerkily down to meet the floor. Thankfully, I stopped just short of doing myself an injury, but I would need to concentrate. Now I was only an inch or so above the glass if I kept my stomach in a concave position. If I forgot to hold my position, I was going to do some damage. It was an excellent incentive to concentrate.
Swinging as hard as could, I tried to build up some speed. It was harder than last time as I didn’t have the downward swing of my body to assist me, but with a bit of effort, I soon had myself travelling in the right direction. It was only a matter of time before I achieved my objective, I was sure of it.
"Thirty-Eight. Fancy seeing you here." Adie brushed past my body and came to stand in front of me. A quick glance up and a burst of flames between my legs confirmed that it was indeed the disreputable bastard that seemed to set my loins on fire every time he came near me. Ignoring him, I directed my eyes at the target dildo and refused to let him distract me. I needed to see this thing through. Urging my body forward as far as it would go, it wasn't long before I was rewarded with my first taste of the rubber dildo. A mere fleeting touch of the tongue, but it was a start. The challenge would be in angling my face just right so the phallus would slot through my ring gag. Why was nothing easy around these parts?
“Williamson, Lara’s waiting for you in room 209. Call it a gift-wrapped present from me. I’ll take care of this slave for you and make sure that she does as she’s told until the obstacle course is completed.”
Mr. Williamson, who was now standing directly in front of me, looked up aghast. "Oh, but I was rather hoping…"
“It wasn’t a request.” Adie’s voice had dropped low and deadly, and by the looks of things, I wasn’t the only one who feared it.
"Yes, of course. Thank you." With one last, wistful glance at me, the man turned on his heel and sauntered from the room. I almost felt sorry for him. If there was a chance that I was going to win a million pounds, I'd at least like to be around to witness the feat.
Adie waited until the man had left the room before he looked at me again. When he did, he crouched down on his knees, a few inches away from my target dildo, and quietly watched my progress. I could feel his eyes searing away at my flesh, but not once did my attention waver. At the moment I was almost halfway to completing my challenge – which meant I'd managed to get half of the dildo inside me. I was confident that I'd be able to get the whole thing down my throat, given a little time and practice.
"I've been instructed to take Mr. Williamson's place, Thirty-Eight. Nod if you understand." I nodded absently. I understood but didn't give a damn. All I cared about was the thick rubber phallus in front of me.
Adie then got back to his feet and disappeared. It was a relief. The last thing I needed right now was him messing about beside me. I’d nearly managed to get three-quarters of the way down the beast in front of me, and though the last quarter was going to be hard, it was not going to be impossible. The word wasn’t allowed in my vocabulary.
Several millilitres of saliva later, amongst plenty of increasingly frustrated moans and groans, Adie came back. I ignored him again, but this time he didn't approve because the sharp swish of the cane came down upon my thigh. It took my breath away for a second, so much so that on my next swing forward, the dildo hit me square on the nose. I swore internally with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, and instantly regretted it because I forgot to hold my stomach in. Sure enough, a jagged piece of glass caught my stomach, and I mewled in pain as the wicked, ragged edge sliced me open. Sucking everything back in time for the next swing, thankfully I didn't add any more injuries to my person, but damn that had hurt. I could already feel a trickle of blood racing away with the air current, so I knew the cut was deep, but hopefully not deep enough for me to worry about. Time would tell.
“Have I got your attention, Thirty-Eight?” Eye-watering pain had my attention, that was for certain. Nodding my head gingerly, I continued to swing, knowing that I didn’t have a lot of time left if I wanted to nail this challenge.
“Good. If that’s the case, I won’t need to use the cane again.” There was then a short, but deliberate silence, and if I’d had the use of my voice I’d have screamed at him to get on with it.
“You cannot win this assignment, Thirty-Eight. If you do, you’ll seriously piss off the boss because he’ll have to cough up a million quid. After he’s done that, he’ll take out his bad humour on you, or he’ll ask me to do it for him. Believe me, an hour with Williamson will be nothing compared to an hour with me, or, heaven forbid, him,” he indicated Dumortier with a sharp nod of his head. To say you’ll be severely incapacitated after the event will be a massive understatement, so I hope you’re taking my war
ning seriously. Nod if you understand, Thirty-Eight.”
Oh, I understood, alright. No one had won this competition before, and they didn't want me to be the first. I got it. What Adie didn't understand, though, was that I wanted to be in a room, alone, with Alain Dumortier. If riling him up achieved that, then I was already halfway to annihilating the bastard. Angry people didn't think clearly, and that was when they made mistakes, so I was all for a little ire.
Adie didn't get a nod, but he did get his answer on my take of the situation. When my throat finally hit the back of the dildo, putting a whole new meaning on the word ‘deep-throat,' the audible alarm sounded, and there were shocked glances from all the male slaves who were lined up around me, who'd been listening intently to the conversation we'd been having. Adie stood up very slowly, put his hands in his pockets, and walked behind me. Every cell in my body suddenly poised for action, although there was nothing I could do. Closing my eyes tightly, I braced myself for whistling sound of the cane but could hear nothing. Everyone seemed to hold their breath for a moment as we waited to see what he would do.
“Well, come along then.” He gestured to the slaves that surrounded me, and they quickly began to untie me. “Let’s get her ready for her third challenge and congratulate her. Thirty-Eight is probably one of the few slaves in the history of Carte Blanche who was managed to complete two challenges in a row, could she be the one to take the title? I think she stands a fighting chance.” He gave my ass a firm slap as he said it and then we were off.
It took me a moment or two to get my sea legs back. I'd been swinging to and fro for the better part of twenty minutes, and my head swam with dizziness. No one cared. I was pulled along by one of my fettered arms, and everyone turned to stare at me as I stumbled about wildly. Thankfully, the journey wasn't long. I was then brought to an abrupt halt in front of what looked like one of those tricep machines you see at the gym – the one with the lateral pull-down bar. Uh-oh.
"Uncuff her and remove the mittens. She's going to need her hands for this one." Adie's voice was dangerously flat, but I paid it no attention. If I had use of my hands and managed to get near Dumortier, the job was as good as done – and the sooner I got out of this hell hole, the better.
When my hands were freed, I flexed them in front of my body several times over. By the looks of things, I was going to have to hold on to a weight bar for the next challenge, and I needed some blood circulating if they were going to be of any use.
"Challenge number three is rather evil." Adie almost whispered the words in my ear, and I jumped to find him behind me again. "See that plastic nylon rope over there?" He pointed to a pile of white string. "That's going to be attached to the giant plug in your ass via a pulley system. It will run under your clit, around the pole in front of you and be attached to the top of the bar. You'll need to keep the bar at around shoulder height if you don't want to deal with excruciating pain." Ah, so that was the name of the game. All I needed to know was how much weight the bastard was expecting me to lift. My guess was: way too much.
"Seems simple enough, right? A capable slave like you should have no trouble pulling fifty pounds, let's say?" Adie gave me a wicked grin and the urge to slap it off his face was so strong, I had to clench my hands into fists to prevent the reaction. The bastard then looked down at my hands as if he knew.
Fifty pounds was going to be an impossible weight to hold for any length time. If I’d worked out recently, I might have stood a chance, but it felt like a very long time since I had hit the gym. Perhaps I’d just have to channel my inner rage and hope that saw me through.
"Get that gag out of her mouth, now." That didn't bode well. If Adie wanted to speak with me, it wasn't likely to be anything friendly. I took a step backward, but the slave next to me was already in action. The plastic hood was being roughly torn from my head, and another pair of fingers was ready at the back of my neck to begin unfastening it. In reasonably short order my mouth was freed, and I was left staring at Adie, who looked like he wanted to kill me.
“Get lost.” Dismissing the slaves who had been stationed all around us, he waited until every one of them had departed before he addressed me directly.
“Don’t fuck with me, Thirty-Eight. I meant every word I said. If you complete this challenge, you aren’t going to be in a pretty state at the end of it. The boss doesn’t take kindly to being thwarted.” This time he addressed me in that very proper English accent of his, probably to put me off balance, and it worked – to a point. “Talk to me, Thirty-Eight. What is going on in that perfectly pretty head of yours?” Ha. Wouldn’t he like to know?
“Don’t worry, I won’t win this challenge,” I lied.
“Look at me,” Adie whispered, and his finger was already lifting my chin so that my eyes would have no choice but to face him. My first instinct was to back away, but I refused to give in to it. The man might be intimidating, but right now I was going to hold my ground. “Let me reiterate once again that you cannot win this competition. As my last warning fell on deaf ears, I’ll get straight to the point. If you win this challenge, and you won’t, but if you did – the boss would want your head on a platter - in the messiest way imaginable. It would most certainly involve drugs, and we’re talking hard-core narcotics, or addictive drugs – in case you were wondering. So whatever is going on up there right now,” he tapped my forehead twice to drive his point home, “needs to stop. There are better ways to achieve your objective, take my word for it.”
I stumbled backwards then. Did he know? Did Adie fucking know what I was? That phrase was a little too close to home to be a coincidence, surely? My heart was now beating at an explosive speed, and if I wasn't careful, I was going to burst a blood vessel. Calm down. He probably thought my objective was garnering attention and winning the competition would certainly do that. All he was concerned about was the money. Well, I didn't give a damn about that. Putting on my best-acting face, I gave Adie an apologetic look and nodded my head, but inside the wheels were turning. If I got an audience with a mad Dumortier, what if I couldn't handle myself? What if I was tied up? What if he did drug me? What if I spilled the beans? There were a lot of ‘what ifs.’ The trouble was if I didn’t take this opportunity, how long would it be before another presented itself? I already knew Dumortier was fond of taking long holidays abroad, and another one could be just upon the horizon. I couldn’t stay here undercover for months on end. It was already driving me crazy, and another couple of weeks might send me over the edge.
Adie narrowed his eyes at my response and stared at me for several long seconds before he spoke. “I’m glad we understand each other. Now get your ass over there.” He stuck his thumb out to indicate I should get in position and I did as I was told. Now that I had my hands free, I didn’t want to piss him off. With any luck, even if I failed this challenge, I might have the use of my hands long enough to do some damage.
Standing with my back to the machine, so the tricep bar dangled in front of me, I waited for Adie to rig me up. His expression was now so dark, potholes would look bright in comparison. I kept quiet. It seemed like the sensible thing to do.
Adie got to work quickly. He grabbed hold of the plastic nylon rope and went behind me. I felt his warm hands on my ass, and the contact sent intense vibrations up my spine. Steeling myself against the attraction, I heard him chuckle.
“There’s no point trying to hide it, Thirty-Eight. I’m well aware this pretty face sends the female race crazy, and you’ve already demonstrated you’re not going to be an exception to the rule. Now stand still. I’ve got to thread this rope through two slots on the base of the plug, which protrude just outside your suit. The design is ingenious, is it not? I came up with the idea myself.”
Any reply I had for that would be extremely sarcastic, so I held my tongue.
"So I just thread it through here and here," Adie hummed softly to himself as he worked, "and then bring it between your legs. I then put it around this pole and attach it to this pull
ey system. Just pull that bar down past your head, will you?" Doing as he asked I pulled the bar down level with my shoulders. At the moment there was no weight upon the machine, so it felt effortless. That was shortly going to change, and I needed to brace myself for the strain.
"So remember to keep that bar where it is. If you let go, that rope is going to try and slice through the parts that matter and drag out the enormous plug in your butt. Oh, wait. I haven't inflated it yet. Give me a minute." All of a sudden my ass began vibrating, and before I knew what was happening, the plug inside me began to grow to enormous proportions. It was only a matter of seconds until the girth and pressure of the thing had me gasping, and only now did I fully appreciate the challenge. If I let go of that bar, that plug was going to try and tear my ass in two. Fantastic. Growling to myself, I felt Adie load up the first few weights on the bar, and I took the strain.
“How does that feel?” he asked.
Never before have I wanted to slap a man and have sex with him at the same time. The two don’t usually go hand in hand, but Adie somehow managed to achieve the feat.
“Marvellous. Do you lot even care if you kill someone? Or is that par for the course around these parts?” The sarcasm was back. One of these days, it might get me in trouble.
Adie came round to stand in front of me, and fury was written all over his face. It surprised me, for he was usually blithely unconcerned about anyone else bar himself. Something was obviously up – but what?
“Yes, I care. We try not to do that too often, Thirty-Eight, as it’s bad for business. Also, if you follow my instructions, you won’t have to worry about killing yourself. Just do as you’re told, and everything will be fine – got it?” The man had calmed himself down almost as quickly as he’d worked himself up. For a moment I wondered if I’d imagined his outrage, but I was too good an agent for that. They were the kind of mistakes I didn’t make, mostly because I couldn’t afford to.
Smoke Page 25
