by John Argus
‘But I—’
‘Tell me.’
Realising defeat, Selina slowly and falteringly disclosed everything, and secretly found herself becoming aroused as Allison forced her to recount every detail of her lovemaking with Zoe.
‘So,’ Allison smiled when Selina fell silent, ‘the straight girl finds herself turned on by an innocent girl, hmm? I’m not surprised, except by this newfound interest of yours in bondage.’
‘I’m not interested in bondage,’ she snapped. ‘I was just using her own fantasies.’
‘Were you? And you felt no great excitement at having such a beautiful thing bound helplessly before you and subject to your every whim and desire? Don’t try and deny it. The little China doll has a kinky side I never suspected. It’s not as interesting as what Erasmus and Beacher are up to, but it’s definitely intriguing. How deep does it run, this kinky side of yours, Selina? Shall we find out now?’
It was difficult, even for a man as jaded as he was, for Steven Erasmus to concentrate on his work with the view across from his desk – Zoe, as naked as the day she was born, her arms still bound tightly behind her.
After her disgraceful performance, when he was attempting to show her how immoral her desires were, she made no protest against his statement that she required far stronger punishment. She had not only seemed to agree, but to anxiously crave it. So with her in such a state he dared not postpone it, and she now stood across the office in the shadows of a corner where a large planter usually hung from the ceiling. He had been forced to improvise, and an electrical extension cord was wrapped around her wrists, elevating them to the chain dangling above her. With her legs straight and desperately supporting against the danger of extra, unacceptable strain being placed on her arms, the position forced her to bend from the waist so her delicious breasts quivered and swayed invitingly, and although she moaned occasionally, confirming her discomfort, the gag of her white panties kept the sounds she made considerately muted. Her blue sash, tied around her face to provide an added insurance against the panties being ejected, also held her hair back so he could savour the many conflicting emotions on her lovely angelic face.
He had plucked a pair of small black binding clips off some documents, and placed them on her nipples. The pressure of the clips was quite strong, necessitating the gag, and her reaction had been energetic to the point that he had become erect again and taken her from behind even more forcefully. Afterwards, he attached more binding clips to her vaginal lips, and contemplated placing one on her clitoris, but had not dared push her that far – yet.
The look on Beacher’s face when he called her into his office and she saw what awaited her had been priceless. And during the resulting playacting – an obvious farce to anyone less naïve than Zoe – he did his level best to defend the girl’s strength and courage in facing her demons while Beacher sneered and poured contempt upon her. He could clearly see the woman wanted to do much more than that; she had a vicious cane in her office, and she wanted to use it on the girl, but he refused to let her, partly to increase Beacher’s frustration and partly to spare Zoe too much all at once. He did not want the girl broken; he wanted to mould her into a delicious creature who craved punishment and was aroused by it.
Steven Erasmus rose from behind his desk and crossed the floor towards her. He gripped her hair, long and thick and deliciously soft to the touch, and slowly lifted her head until she was able to look up at him from beneath fluttering lashes. Her cheeks were flushed and she was clearly weary, an excellent state of being for a lovely young woman.
Continuing to hold her head up with one hand, he undid the scarf with the other, pulling it free. She winced and moaned into her panties as he eased her head a little higher, and then his fingers eased the soggy white material out, and he dropped them to the floor beside his highly polished brown brogues. With her mouth free she eased her jaw and breathed deeply, her breasts swelling invitingly as she did; a vision he did not miss and took a moment to savour.
‘Well, my young lady,’ he said quietly, ‘do you think your body is beginning to understand the necessity of restraint?’
‘I – I don’t know, sir,’ she said weakly.
‘When you stop thinking of your sexual parts as a source of pleasure, and think of them as a source of discomfort, your body will know a similar change of attitude,’ he told her piously, even as he unzipped his trousers and drew out his erection. He was still holding her head by the hair, so it was an easy matter for him to feed the bloated length between her wet and open lips, stretching them apart as he sank gratifyingly deep. ‘Please yourself on that while we talk, my dear,’ he said casually, as her mouth sucked instinctively around the intruder.
‘You are one of the loveliest girls I have ever met, Zoe, and I already feel quite close to you.’ He reached down and plucked the binding clip from one of her nipples, the flood of pain combined with relief causing her to whimper, the sound muffled by the plug of his pulsing cock, and he suppressed his own shudder of appreciation as the stifled exclamation made her tongue and lips massage him exquisitely.
‘You have a bright and wonderful future before you, if you can only control your unnatural lusts, Zoe,’ he went on lecturing her, finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on doing so. ‘If only I were younger. If only I could hope to one day call a woman such as you my own.’ He plucked the other clip free, and again she moaned around his cock, her body twisting as far as the restraints would permit. He gazed at her shoulders, forced up and back, and thought it an extremely erotic sight as he began grinding slowly in and out of her wonderful mouth.
‘I shall give serious consideration to your request about the orphanage,’ he promised. ‘I know I shouldn’t, for such requests must normally come through proper channels and get the proper committee approval, but you’re such a bright and insightful girl, despite your weaknesses, that I can’t help feeling something you want must have great merit. Suck, my dear… that’s a sweet girl.’
He fucked her mouth gently, guiding fingers still entwined in her hair, reluctantly restraining himself from pushing too deep and reaching for her throat. Then he reached lower and plucked the clips from her pubic lips, and gave her mind and body time to pass through the phases of pain and relief. First there was the torment as the clips were removed and the blood rushed back into the afflicted flesh, followed by the only slightly less intense pain as the pins and needles of returning sensation made her squirm and moan. And then came a great and wonderful sense of relief, after which her nipples and sex lips would be tender and swollen and exquisitely sensitive to the slightest touch. His hands slid down to gently cup and stroke her breasts, watching her face intently. He saw the grimace of pain, then the twitch of discomfort, and then the rapt expression as she experienced the dark pleasure mysteriously hidden inside the hurting.
Then he pulled out of her succulent mouth and moved behind her. Spreading her legs further apart, he forced her arms higher as she sighed in protest. Then he began rubbing his erection against her shaven sex, and felt her pushing instinctively back against him. He tormented her for a moment, and then penetrated her slowly, his hands moving round to cup and knead her breasts.
‘Ah, Zoe, my lovely, sweet, desirable girl,’ he sighed. ‘How could it be that I have come to care for you so much? How could it be that I find you so delightfully innocent and yet so wanton at the same time?’ He did not thrust into her as he had earlier. Instead he penetrated her slowly and tenderly, and soon her sex was milking him just as her mouth had, and she was gasping in ecstasy, heedless of the discomfort she continued to feel in her aching body.
One hand caressed her taut tummy, and finding her clitoris, his fingers went to work as he increased the speed of his penetrating strokes. ‘Beautiful Zoe,’ he whispered, ‘so filled with perverse desires and yet so kind of heart and sweet of nature. You lure me despite my best intentions. You tempt me d
espite my strength. You are a wild yet impish creature which must be tamed by love and discipline.’
As he spoke she was swaying back against him shamelessly, her pussy squeezing and gripping his erection each time he drew back, desperately trying to keep him deep inside her. She made little effort to hide her climax, and he felt a powerful sense of conquest as her body began shaking and quivering. Her hips rolled and he rubbed her clitoris faster while pumping harder, determined to raise the level of her pleasure as high as it would go, for it would aid him in his cause to possess her completely.
When her orgasm began to ease he picked up his pace and allowed his own body to find release, groaning with pleasure as he poured himself into her hot little sex. Then he released her arms and held her as she sank to the floor. He kissed her tenderly, whispering how beautiful she was, how delicious it was to gaze upon her, how delightful to touch her, how blissful to taste her.
He let her doze in his embrace as he stroked her hair and face, and then he gently woke her, helped her dress, and sent her from his office with an affectionate pat on the bottom.
He shook his head and smiled smugly to himself as the door closed behind her. Women were like putty in his hands, and this one was more pliable than most. Soon he would literally have her eating out of his hand, and then he would teach a few people a thing or two – beginning with her father.
The door opened again, and Beacher walked in, looking rather tense. His smile deepened. Here was an odd woman, but one he could do interesting things with if he played her properly. Older women, especially ones like Beacher who clung to their precious dignity, often had a core of raging sensuality burning deep within them.
‘Well?’ she demanded.
‘Well what?’ he asked idly, relaxing back in his chair.
‘She was in here for quite some time,’ Beacher stated belligerently.
‘Oh yes, she had some issues that needed to be worked out, including some silly idea about giving money to orphans.’
‘Orphans?’
‘Some sort of group home in Leeds, I think. It’s there in the paper. Such a soft-hearted young thing.’
‘Young slut, you mean.’ Beacher picked up the paper and glanced at it.
‘Slut is such a deprecatory term. She merely has a great deal of lust within her.’
‘And she can’t control herself.’
‘Unlike you, Veronica?’ The woman’s face reddened. ‘There’s nothing wrong with feeling desire, Veronica. It rather becomes you, in fact.’
‘We all have our weak moments,’ she agreed noncommittally, her eyes fixed on the paper.
‘True enough, and what fun those moments can be.’
She looked up finally, her face expressionless. ‘People are beginning to talk, you know.’
‘Good, I want them to talk. See if you can encourage the talk. Mention how close she seems to Cunningham, and how long she was alone in a storage room with Fosters.’
‘What?’ Beacher was confused.
‘I want her to get a reputation as a slut who throws herself at men,’ he explained candidly. ‘I’m sure there’s already talk, given those short skirts she wears – and natural jealousy, of course.’
‘You want her father to hear the rumours?’ Beacher asked, unconvinced by his plan.
‘No, I’m talking about the kind of gossip girls exchange at coffee breaks, not the kind which appears in the newspapers. It’ll stay local until the media starts looking into her. Then it won’t take them long to find people eager to relate all the real or imagined instances of her sluttish behaviour around the office.’
‘You want reporters to hear about you?’ she asked incredulously.
‘They won’t,’ he assured her, ‘if we make sure there are other names for them to look into, especially famous names, titled names, names like Patrick Stewart.’
‘I still don’t see how you can get her to touch him,’ she said sceptically.
‘I’m sure I can convince her to make a play for Stewart, and I’m equally sure I can guarantee the press finds out. That will destroy their alliance and drop both of them into the muck.’
‘You’ll never get her to agree,’ his ally insisted, but Steven Erasmus laughed contentedly.
‘Do you see that potted plant on the floor, Veronica?’ he said. ‘I want you to imagine lovely Zoe bent over beside it with her arms forced up behind her back, naked, with binding clips on her nipples and cunt.’ He held up one of the clips, and grinned as he let it snap open and closed a few times. He saw her indrawn breath, and the look of reluctant excitement that glinted in her eyes as she turned to look at the shadowy corner.
‘To be frank, I fucked her like that, fore and aft,’ he bragged conceitedly. ‘I also convinced her it was done out of kindness, for her own good. You think I can’t convince her to go after Stewart?’ He stood up and moved around the desk as she stepped back warily. ‘Do you fancy taking her place, Veronica? Do you imagine yourself bent over naked, chained and fucked from behind?’
‘You really are a pig,’ she said with feeling.
‘And you’re a wild mare in need of mounting,’ he countered.
She refused to back away as he moved forward into her space, standing mere inches from her and staring directly into her eyes. ‘What do you say, Veronica? Want to remove your clothes and feel what Zoe felt?’
‘I’m not a naïve girl, Erasmus. You can’t seduce me with a few cheap tricks.’
‘No, you’re not a naïve girl,’ he agreed, caressing her cheek and brushing her hair back. ‘But that makes it easier, because unlike a naïve girl, you’ve got your own salacious thoughts hiding deep within, all of them desperate to get out into the light.’
She jerked her head to one side away from his hand, sniffing disdainfully.
‘You’re not a young woman any more, either, Veronica,’ he went on, ruthlessly undeterred by her rebellious reaction. ‘In a few years men will dismiss you as an unattractive old maid clinging desperately to her youth. And you can see it coming just as well as I can, can’t you? How long do you have if you want to make those desires come to life?
‘I can help you. I’ve already tasted the fire in your loins, Veronica, and seen how wanton you can be when you let yourself go. The damage is already done with me. We’re like an old couple. We can trust each other because we know each other’s natures.’
‘You can’t manipulate me like you can Quincanon,’ she said tightly, though her voice held less conviction.
‘Of course not, I don’t need anything from you, and you’re not a girl. That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy – and help – each other, does it?’
Veronica Beacher turned her head away, but her eyes sparkled hungrily.
Normand Miller left the office. He drove quickly to Zoe’s street, parked and found her flat. With the duplicate key he let himself in with no fuss, and only then did his nerves get the better of him and his heart begin beating uncomfortably. But the flat seemed quiet, almost unnaturally quiet, as he carefully closed the door behind him.
He examined the small apartment, and on the coffee table before the sofa he spotted several odd looking postcards. He picked one up, and felt a wave of excitement as he stared at it, wondering what a girl like Zoe Quincanon was doing in possession of such an image. Was this the sort of thing that turned her on? Was Zoe Quincanon one of those girls who liked people to tie her up, perhaps even whip her? The thought, and the evidence of it in his hand, was so arousing that he became instantly erect. He never would have imagined such perversity could exist in a sweet young woman like her.
He put the card back down and walked slowly into the bedroom, licking his dry lips. He pulled out his handkerchief and mopped the sweat from his brow. It was quite hot in the room, but that was the least of his discomforts.
The first thing he saw was t
he bed – her bed. And the first thing he noticed on the bed were the scarves bound to the four posts. He felt a little dazed at seeing such graphic evidence of her secret nature, and his erection grew even more rampant in his trousers as he realised that here, on this very bed, Zoe Quincanon had lain spread-eagled, probably naked, as some lucky, lucky bloke had his way with her.
Feeling a little faint, he sat down heavily on the bed, and then lay back across it, catching a teasing hint of her perfume in his nostrils. ‘Wicked girl,’ he whispered excitedly. ‘Wicked, wicked girl!’
Where could he hide? The bedroom was right next to the tiny hall leading to her front door. With the living room just around the corner, some of it blocked by the wall, he could slip out without her seeing him if he had to.
In fact, as he got up to examine the front door, he saw that unless he had very bad luck she could not see him entering or leaving, not if she was sitting in the front room watching the television or reading, and not if she was in the kitchen or the bedroom. She would only be able to see him when she was moving from one room to another.
She would undress in the bedroom when she came home. She would remove her light dress and he would, at last, see her in her naughty underwear, and perhaps even naked!
Normand moved about the flat, poking into every nook and cranny, and it was by complete luck that he spotted the little door in the ceiling of the built-in wardrobe. He stared up at it for a moment, and then something clicked inside him. His eyes widened and his hands began shaking.
He reached up, his fingers closed around the dangling rope, he tugged, and the trapdoor swung down silently. He then pulled, and the narrow ladder extended to the floor with a series of clicks as he stared up into the dark void of the tiny roof space with cunning, calculating eyes.
