by Ray Gordon
"Are you really in the force?" Wendy asked Belinda curiously, raising her head and pulling on her bonds.
"Yes, I am," Belinda replied softly as Nancy tugged her panties down, revealing her smooth, shaved vaginal lips, her silky-soft mons.
"Very nice!" Mike praised his ex-wife as her panties were torn in two. "I'm pleased to see that you still shave! But what are we to do with you after we've fucked you rotten?"
"Look, I came here because of the Glooms, Mike," Belinda pleaded, her face flushing with embarrassment as her delectable swollen labia took centre stage. "I only came up here because I thought..."
"It's too late now, Belinda. I mean, you know what's going on here so..."
"I'll forget what I've seen. Let me go, and I'll say nothing about this."
"But you must say something!" Wendy snapped. "I'm a policewoman, too! You can't ignore the fact that they've taken me prisoner! You must..."
"Wait a minute!" Mike interrupted irritably. "God, there's nothing worse than two women arguing. I'll decide what to do with you, both of you."
"Christ, Mike!" Dave gasped. "Two coppers!"
"One, two, it doesn't make any bloody difference. Right, Dave, cuff Belinda to the frame. Upright, not over the bar - I'm going to humiliate the bitch, degrade her beyond belief."
Watching eagerly as Dave released Belinda's hands and cuffed each wrist to the tops of the vertical planks, Mike made his plans. For starters, he'd have Nancy attend his prisoner's naked body, initiate her into the depraved pleasures of lesbian sexual abuse. Then he'd fuck her, use her naked body, her tight cunt, and fill her with his spunk. A whipping? Yes, might as well give her the whole treatment. As Dave forced Belinda to stand with her feet wide apart, cuffing her ankles to the frame, Mike ordered Nancy to strip off.
"You're desperate for sex, so she's all yours," he chuckled as the woman slipped hurriedly out of her dress. Discarding her bra and ripping her panties off in her sexual frenzy, she knelt before Belinda and planted a loving kiss on her feminine fissure.
Tweaking his ex-wife's long nipples, Mike smiled. "So, how did you get up to this floor?" he asked, pinching her sex buds harder.
"The fire escape," Belinda whispered, her face grimacing as Mike painfully twisted her erect milk buds. "Will you please get that bloody lesbian away from my pussy?"
"She's enjoying herself."
"Mike, you can't..."
"I can do what I like." Looking down at Nancy as she ran her tongue up and down Belinda's yawning sex groove, he raised his head and smiled at Belinda. "This is my hotel, you're my prisoner, so I can do what I like."
"Mike!" Trudie cried as she burst into the room and gazed open-mouthed at the naked prisoners. "Mike, Inspector Dickwipe's here to see you."
"What, again? Bloody hell, what is it with him? He's got a bloody obsession with this hotel! OK, I'll come down."
Leaving Belinda to her fate, Mike adjusted his clothing and grabbed the gun before following Trudie to the lift. He had to get Dickwipe off his back once and for all, but how? The man reminded him of a piece of cheap toilet paper - no matter how many times you pulled the chain, the paper defied physics and remained in the pan. Put him off the scent, he mused as the lift descended to the ground floor. As Trudie opened the door, Mike hurriedly formulated his plan.
"Inspector Dickwipe!" he beamed, walking across the foyer, the gun stuffed down his trousers. "I'm so glad you're here because I have some information for you."
"Information?" Dickwipe frowned. "What sort of information?"
"It's about Harold Gloom. He rang me earlier from Scotland. Apparently, he ran off with the woman who was staying in room four, Miss Widegroin. He just called to say that they're both fine, and he asked me to explain things to his wife. They're desperately in love, it would seem. Quite a turn up for the books, wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes, quite a turn up! I'll have to check your story, of course."
"It's not my story, Inspector. I'm only telling you what Harold Gloom said."
"Have you told his wife, yet?"
"No, I haven't seen her this morning."
"I see. The reason I'm here, Mr Hunt, is because we've received a call from the loony bin... I mean, Mad Mansion Mental Asylum, informing us that Miss Chaste has gone walk-about. The obvious place she'd make for is your hotel. If you'd be good enough to call us should she turn up here, we'd be very grateful."
"Yes, of course, Inspector. What's happening with that Knickerlace woman and the girl?"
"Even though you're as guilty as hell, there's no evidence, I'm sorry to say. This is a very serious matter, Mr Hunt."
"Indeed, it is. And I'm not guilty."
"Yes, well, I'll be on my way. Good day."
"Good day, Inspector."
Flopping into his chair behind the desk and placing the gun in the drawer, Mike wondered whether Dickwipe had believed his story about Harold and Wendy. It was the only way he could think of to explain the simultaneous disappearance of his two guests. Harold bloody Gloom would have to go, he reflected. If he was seen, and word got back to Dickwipe, the whole story would be blown. Watching Mrs Gloom as she emerged from the lift with her puny lover, he jumped up.
"Good morning!" he smiled, noticing the young man carrying two suitcases. "Has your husband turned up?"
"No, he hasn't!" Mrs Gloom snapped. "We're leaving."
"What about your husband?"
"The stupid man's gone missing and there's nothing I can do about it. He must have run off and..."
"Well, I'm not surprised, seeing as you've brought your lover on holiday with you!"
"Yes, well... we'll just take the cases to the car and then I'll settle the bill."
"Fine."
Sitting at the desk, Mike wondered why Mrs Gloom was leaving before receiving word from the assassin that the dirty deed had been executed. If her lover was the hit man, then he'd have told the old bat that he couldn't find Harold. So why leave when her husband was still alive and kicking? Making her bill up, he decided to ask Harold to leave the minute Mrs Gloom and her lover had gone. At least that would be one problem dealt with.
Pondering on his two prisoners, he switched the monitor on to see Dave standing before Belinda, his erect penis thrusting deep into her vaginal orifice. Mike had never thought he'd laugh to see another man screwing her, but he couldn't help chuckling as he focused on Belinda's angry face. Protesting wildly, the snooty bitch spat threats as Dave jolted her naked body with his frenzied vaginal pummelling. Like it or not, she was going to be attended by all three men!
Answering the phone, Mike took a room sixty-nine booking for that evening. Another two hundred pounds, he thought happily, replacing the receiver. But he needed at least four or five clients every evening to start earning some real cash. "It's early days," he breathed consolingly, wondering where Mrs Gloom had got to.
"Ah, Paul," he said, looking up as the young man staggered out of the bar and weaved his way across the foyer. "Bloody hell, you're not pissed already, are you?"
"Er... no, no of course I'm not kissed... pissed."
"Thank God for that. OK, this is the plan."
"Hell, not more plans? What do you want me to do now, nick a video mixing console from the local TV studio?"
"Don't be ridiculous! Nick a video... could you..."
"Don't ask!"
"Listen, my ex-wife is a cop and..."
"A cop? Bloody hell!"
"Exactly! What I want you to do is... Jesus, I've got her imprisoned upstairs along with another bloody copperess! I don't know what I want you to do!"
"You've imprisoned your ex-wife? That's two women, Mike."
"I can count, thank you!"
"I'll tell you what I'd do if I were you."
"Go on. And don't suggest I have a drink."
"I'd let them both go."
"What? Let them... are you subnormal?"
"No, listen to me. They're both cops, so their fellow cops will be out in force looking for them. It's only a m
atter of time before they discover them. Bloody hell, you can't kidnap coppers!"
"But they'll drop me in it if I release them. They'll spill the beans about room sixty-nine."
"There's nothing illegal about having a sex room - for your own private use."
"Yes, I see your point. God, why aren't I normal?"
"You are normal."
"Am I? Do normal people have sexual torture chambers in their hotels?"
"Come to think of it, normal people don't own unprofitable hotels!"
"You're right there!"
"Anyway, who the fuck's normal, Mike? Everyone's fucking mad, if you ask me!"
"That's true! Abnormal fucking bastards! Let's get pissed."
"Pissed? Christ, you're the one who keeps slagging me off for getting pissed."
"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten about that. It's OK for me to get pissed because I'm not a fucking alcoholic, am I?"
"Neither am I, for fuck's sake!"
"Neither are you? Look at you, you're staggering all over the fucking place. And stop swearing."
"It's old age."
"Old age, my knob! What about the adverts? Any fool only has to look through one of the dirty mags and..."
"The ads don't actually mention Stokepot Towers, do they?"
"Well, no, but the phone number..."
"I wouldn't worry about the ads, Mike."
"Maybe not. Anyway, I'd better go and tell Harold that his wife's gone - without paying her bill, by the look of it! Fucking bitch of a slag-bag! If you come up with any bright ideas, let me know."
"OK. I'd better go and have a vodka... I mean, go and check the vodka."
"Check it, or drink it?"
"Check it."
"You drink it and I'll..."
"I'll only check it, I promise."
"You'd better! Remind me to kick you in the bollocks later."
Absent-mindedly scratching his cock as Paul wandered back into the bar, Mike again wondered what the hell to do with the problematic policewomen. My ex-wife, for fuck's sake! The last thing in the world he'd expected was Belinda to burst into room sixty-nine wielding a gun! Right, chuck Harold out. Lifting the phone, he rang room eight.
"Harold," he announced as the man replied. "You'll have to leave."
"I can't leave!"
"Your wife's gone so..."
"Gone?"
"Yes, so you'd better go, too. The cops have been swarming all over the place, you're not safe here."
"All right, I'll go. But I don't know where to."
"Go home."
"I can't, she'll be there with her lover."
"It's not my problem, is it?"
"No, I suppose it's not. OK, I'll see you downstairs when I'm ready."
Replacing the receiver, Mike rubbed his chin, wondering what would happen to Harold, where the vicious hand of life would lead him. Contemplating the situation, he decided to allow Belinda her freedom, for Harold's protection. As the assassination hadn't yet occurred, the killer might well be waiting for his victim. Belinda was Harold's only chance of survival!
As Goldie emerged from the bar and disappeared into the kitchen, Mike glanced at the monitor to see Dave and Nancy leaving room sixty-nine. It appeared that Belinda had been well and truly used, hanging like a rag doll from her cuffed wrists. Still unable to believe that his ex-wife was a policewoman as Dave and Nancy emerged from the lift, he switched the monitor off.
"I'm going to talk to Belinda," he announced, passing Dave. "Keep an eye on things down here."
"But it's my day off!" the chef complained. "I was going to..."
"Tough! Keep an eye on things."
"I'm going out for a walk," Nancy smiled. "I'll see you both later."
"This isn't fair, Mike!" Dave protested.
"One of life's little shits!" Mike grinned, stepping into the lift. "Or fucking great shits!"
Reaching the fourth floor, he made his way to room sixty-nine, praying that Belinda would do a deal with him once she heard that Harold was about to leave the hotel. No doubt she'd agree to anything in return for her freedom - but could she be trusted?
"OK!" Mike beamed as he entered the sex room. "Belinda, how would you like to go free?"
"What's the catch?" she asked suspiciously, lifting her head to look at him, her pretty face flushed.
"Harold's about to leave. I thought I'd release you so you can do your job, keep an eye on him, in exchange for keeping quiet about my little set-up here."
"OK, agreed," she smiled eagerly. "When's he leaving?"
"Soon. There is just one thing, Belinda - I'm going to fuck you before I release you."
"Yes, I thought as much! Has Mrs Gloom gone?"
"Yes, with her lover - and without paying her bill."
"You'd better release me now, Mike. If Harold Gloom leaves before..."
"He's not going just yet, don't worry," Mike replied, flashing a salacious grin at Wendy.
"If he leaves, and I'm not there to follow him, there's no saying what will happen."
"Who's going to bump him off, his wife's lover?"
"I'm not sure. That's why it's imperative that I don't lose him."
"Don't fret, you won't lose him. So, how did you like my chef marinating your cunt?"
"Try not to be vulgar, Mike!"
"Sorry, I was forgetting that you're somewhat prudish. Anyway, you'll enjoy having me fuck you after all these years, won't you?"
"You're so crude! As I said the other day, you lack refinement, eloquence."
"Yes, I know. Christ, someone has to be common."
"What about me?" Wendy asked.
"What about you?" Mike smiled, turning to face the tethered policewoman. "Are you common?"
"Certainly not! You can't keep me here forever!"
"She's right, Mike," Belinda asserted, gazing at Wendy's yawning vaginal crack.
"I've got it!" Mike chuckled. "Why don't I allow Harold to stay up here, on the fourth floor? That way, he'll be safe."
"No, you mustn't do that!" Belinda protested, tugging on the handcuffs. "You must let me go so that I can follow him and discover who's trying to get him."
"No, I think my idea's best - I'll go and get him now. Oh, he might as well give you one while he's here - and you, Wendy. Poor old Harold hasn't had a good fuck in bloody years!"
Leaving the unhappy women to their fate, Mike sauntered down the hall and entered the lift. His idea was a good one, he reflected as he descended to the ground floor. Not only would the poor man be safe, but he could enjoy endless sex with the tethered women. Poor old Harold deserved some fun, he decided, stepping out of the lift to find the slight man cowering by the desk.
"Ah, Harold," Mike beamed. "I've just had a brilliant idea."
"What's that?"
"You can stay here, on the top floor, just until the heat's off. And, you'll be delighted to hear, there are two naked women up there - one's tied to the bed and the other to a wooden frame."
"Naked women?" the wimp echoed in surprise.
"Yes, and they're yours for the taking - for the knobbing."
"Really?" Harold gasped, his face lighting up.
"Yes, really. Get into the lift and I'll send you up to the top floor. Go along the hall to room sixty-nine and have yourself some dirty fun."
Bundling the excited man into the lift, Mike used his key to convey him to paradise. That was Harold out of the way, and the two policewomen safely hidden, he reflected thankfully, returning to reception.
By the sound of smashing plates coming from the kitchen, Goldie was attempting to prepare the lunches. Paul was manning the bar while Trudie... Where the hell's Trudie? he wondered. Cecilia had done a bloody good disappearing act, too! It was about time she moved into the hotel rather than commute to and fro from her house.
Scanning the empty foyer, wondering where Dave had got to, Mike decided that it was safe enough to have a quick wank before lunch. Hauling his ever erect penis out of his trousers, he was about to recline in his chair
and grab his girlie mag from the shelf when an attractive young woman breezed into the building.
"Good morning," Mike smiled, desperately trying to conceal his solid member as she approached the desk.
"Do you have a room?" she asked, her eyes widening as she glimpsed his stiff member. "Oh, my God!" she cried. "What are you doing with your thing out?"
"I was... I was just tucking my shirt in."
"Wait a minute, you're the man who flashed at me! I sketched you, the picture was in the local paper!"
"No, it wasn't me!" Mike laughed nervously, at last managing to zip up his trousers. "I only arrived this morning from the outer Hebrides."
"The outer Hebrides?"
"Yes, I've been on holiday. So, you'd like a room?"
"Er... yes, please."
"Right, what name is it?"
"Judy Painter. You're remarkably like the man..."
"As I said, I've been away. Just the one night, is it?"
"I'm not sure yet. You see, I've left my husband."
Not another one. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."
"After the flashing incident, I went to the police with a sketch of the man. They finally told me that they knew who he was and that he was already under suspicion of running a brothel and..."
"Yes, but why leave your husband?"
"I kept looking at my sketch and... well, sadly, my husband's equipment paled into insignificance."
"Really?"
"Yes, and I've been looking for the flasher ever since."
"Why?"
"Because I hold him personally responsible for destroying my marriage."
"Er... I'm afraid I'm fully booked."
"Oh, what a shame. You really do look so much like the..."
"Yes, well... try the Salt Spray Hotel, they might be able to fit you in."
"Yes, I will. Thank you."
Breathing a sigh of relief as the young woman left, Mike was certain that she'd been sent by Dickwipe. It was probably some ingenious plan to have him fall into a trap. Hauling his solid penis out again, he pondered on the young woman's words. My husband's equipment paled into insignificance. "A most perceptive woman."
