The Innocent

by John Argus

  Zoe returned to her desk in a daze. She was too flustered, too confused, to keep working. She picked up her purse and quickly left the building, not caring if Ms Beacher found out and disapproved.

  She walked slowly along the pavement, her thoughts buzzing feverishly. It shocked her to come to grips with the idea that a wonderful and powerful man like Mr Erasmus might truly be interested in her.

  It had always seemed to her that it would be a wonderful thing to be in love. Was Mr Erasmus in love with her? Was he falling in love with her? Could she fall in love with him?

  Certainly she suspected she cared about him, was in awe of him. He was intelligent and kind. He possessed all the qualities a young lady ought to look for in a man.

  But never before had she stopped to consider the possibility that he and she could ever have that kind of relationship; the age gap would never allow it.

  Zoe thought she understood now why he was taking such time and effort to help conquer her inner weaknesses, and how her old friends at school would squirm with envy if she had a man like that on her arm – an older man of such power and prestige.

  ‘Mrs Erasmus,’ she whispered to herself, and liked the sound of it.

  She wanted to encourage his interest in her but she was still very unsure of herself. He was a sophisticated gentleman, a man of the world, and she was a naïve young woman without real experience in anything. She needed to get advice from someone more mature than she was, someone with more experience of men.

  Selina. She would know what to do. She could sort out Zoe’s confused thoughts.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Where are we going?’ Selina’s heart pounded and she turned her head from side to side as if this would help her see. ‘Allison…? Allison!’ The painful grip on her left arm did not abate as it continued to pull her forward, yet she could hear nothing except the beating of her heart and her own sharp breathing.

  She was tired and humiliated, in mind if not in body. She had protested, but allowed Allison to take her to a hotel room anyway. She had protested, but allowed Allison to strip her. She had protested, but put up little fight as she was tied up. And she had not protested at all as Allison made her climax again and again. The woman hurt her in cold, cruel ways, with pinches and slaps and sharp little twists of her nipples, yet her evening had been one of intense pleasure.

  Through it all, Allison taunted and teased her, forcing her to degrade herself, to beg for pleasure or for release from pain. Selina’s jaw ached from the licking she had given the voluptuous blonde, and even now her mouth was filled with the taste of Allison’s sex.

  Exhausted, she thought she was finally being driven home, but the seductress had blindfolded her, bound her wrists behind her back with a long slim strand of silk, and then driven her…

  ‘Where are we, Allison?’ she asked again.

  She heard a door open, and felt herself being led across a threshold. She could sense the difference beneath her feet as her heels clicked on smooth tile rather than rough pavement, the sound echoing quietly around them as she was led down a corridor.

  ‘Allison, I’m tired,’ she said plaintively, hating the quaver in her voice, the simpering sound of weakness. But she was weak. After the events of the afternoon and evening, it was ludicrous to even pretend that she and Allison were equals. She had been a toy in Allison’s hands, a mouse to Allison’s cat. Her hands pulled feebly against the silk binding, but with little expectation of freeing herself. She bit her lip anxiously, cursing herself in her mind for such weakness. And yet at the same time she could not ignore the twinge of excitement as she confirmed the tightness of the bonds around her wrists.

  ‘Where are we?’ she asked again hesitantly, and suddenly heard the sound of a bolt being flung back, and a dull creaking as if a large door was being opened before them. She felt the grip on her upper arm tighten even more, and once again she was led blindly forward.

  ‘My, what a pretty young thing.’ The voice was that of an older female.

  ‘And what lovely hair.’ Another voice, also female – cultured, condescending.

  ‘Lovely everything.’ Yet another woman’s dulcet tones.

  Then Selina felt a hand caress her bottom. ‘Allison?’ she gasped.

  ‘What a lovely new toy you’ve brought us, Allie.’ A fourth feminine voice.

  Selina felt a hand slip between her thighs. She squealed and twisted around, but another hand was cupping her right breast while another squeezed her bottom and another caressed her cheek. Eventually Allison released her arm, and yet wherever she turned other groping hands moved with her.

  ‘So pretty…’

  ‘Yes, so very pretty.’

  ‘Don’t be afraid, little one, you’ll enjoy this.’

  ‘I always like to eat Chinese.’

  There was mocking laughter from what sounded like half-a-dozen or more throats. Selina’s heart pounded and she stared around blindly. She felt trapped and helpless. Her wrists pulled frantically at the silk ties, but to no avail. Then hands gripped her more firmly and she felt her skirt loosening. ‘No,’ she gasped. ‘Stop!’ The skirt slithered down her legs and hands slipped between her thighs, while others squeezed and stroked her buttocks. ‘Don’t!’ she cried as soft lips pressed against the nape of her neck and fingers cupped and kneaded her breasts. Her panties were being pulled down her thighs to expose her sex, and she cringed with humiliation as fingers probed her moist opening. ‘Oh no, don’t, please,’ she wailed pitifully.

  A tongue lapped her vulva. Her blouse was opened and her bra pulled off. More lips were on her breasts and teeth were chewing on her nipples. Hands gently forced her head back, and hungry tongues licked her throat. She was lifted, and set down on something that felt like velvet. Her legs were spread, and a hubbub of excited voices enveloped her. Hands and lips were devouring everywhere at once. Her blouse was bunched around her bound wrists as she writhed and moaned while hands spread her legs wide.

  She felt fingers probing her, dipping between the moist lips of her labia and squirming into her pussy. More fingers were at her clenched anus, but she could not stop them from thrusting into her bottom. Her nipples throbbed as lips sucked them and teeth nipped her neck and throat. She felt increasingly light-headed as fingers caressed her everywhere, and yet despite her shock, a terrible thrill of carnal lust was blooming inside her.

  Someone with a frighteningly skilful tongue was licking her clitoris while multiple fingers slithered like small snakes in an effort to slip deeper into her body, from both directions. Her hips instinctively bucked as a stunning bolt of raw sexual electricity ripped through her belly, and was met by approving gasps and giggles. Then her legs were spread even wider, the tendons in her thighs aching and straining as even more hands slipped in to cup and squeeze and pinch her buttocks.

  Vaguely, Selina counted four mouths on her breasts, two on each one. They were alternately suckling and chewing on her nipples and areolas and the tender flesh around them. Four or more hands were stroking and squeezing her breasts, while many more crawled over her body and between her legs. It was a fantastic nightmare of sexual hedonism, in which she could do nothing but lay submissively and try to cope with the myriad emotions and sensations flooding her.

  Pleasure filled her to bursting, physical pleasure of such intensity it drained her of any remaining will to struggle. She could feel the women moving around her; could hear their whispers and murmurs and giggles as they surrounded her like a pack of hyenas feeding on her nubile flesh. Her body was turned and pulled and bent and stretched to satisfy their hungers, and then a familiar scent filled her nose and moist, succulent flesh smothered her face.

  She wasn’t a lesbian, her mind screamed, but her tongue thrust eagerly into the hot core of grasping flesh, and there was derisive laughter as she writhed and bucked beneath their skilled kisses and caresses and came,
and came, and came…

  Finally, drained by her multiple orgasms, Selina slumped weakly in the arms that carried her somewhere and eased her over something unyielding, a wooden surface, she thought. They draped her back across what felt like a large upended barrel so that her body was bent like a bow, her arms and legs hanging down the sides, where they were bound in place.

  They began toying with her again, and she moaned and begged them to stop as the pain began. The smell of scented candles filled the air as hot wax fell like rain across her breasts and nipples and thighs. Feathers soothed and taunted her, and ice made her squeal and thrash against the ropes holding her down. Dildos penetrated her until her pussy ached. The musk of sex filled the air and her body throbbed with a craving the torment only served to stoke to greater heights. She sobbed and begged and thrust her hips at every touch. Climaxes rolled over her in endless succession broken only by delicious, intoxicating torment. Whispers surrounded her and wafted soothingly into her ears. Cool hands glided over her flesh, leaving fire behind.

  Then she was lifted in strong arms again, and again lowered. She felt a pressure against her aching sex, a cold metallic pressure that intensified as she was lowered slowly and carefully around it. Her eyes shut tightly behind the blindfold and she twisted weakly in an effort to escape the penetration, but the pressure continued. She moaned incoherently, and heard the murmur of voices as she was eased forward slightly, and then down further.

  ‘Please, don’t…’ she moaned. ‘Don’t… oooooh!’ The pain climaxed, and then suddenly she was sliding down as thick metal thrust up inside her. She could feel the sleeve of her sex spreading as she was impaled, and felt a sense of martyred pleasure despite the cringing discomfort. She felt her knees touch the floor, and whatever it was they were forcing into her slid even deeper into her straining sheath.

  Hands caressed her long hair and she felt it gathered up behind her and loosely braided to keep it out of her face. Then the braid was pulled back, forcing her head up, and cords were bound to her toes, and then, confusingly, attached to the braid.

  Fingers slipped beneath the blindfold, and suddenly it was gone. She had a fleeting glimpse of a grey-haired woman in a mirror before her, and then a door was closed and the woman vanished.

  Selina squinted against the sudden light, although she soon discovered there was little enough of that. She was in a claustrophobic, octagonal space no larger than a closet. Eight mirrored walls surrounded her. The light came from a single flickering candle set in a crystal holder, its light reflected by the polished panes.

  Selina stared dazedly at her trussed body, glistening with perspiration, kneeling awkwardly on her heels. She blinked, and blinked again, confused. Small, teardrop-shaped silver weights hung from clips attached to each of her nipples, and gleamed softly in the candlelight. The pipe thrusting up out of the floor and disappearing into her body also appeared to be made of silver. She stared in disbelief at its girth. It was far thicker than a man’s erection, smooth, metallic and brutally cold.

  She groaned in response to the sight of her imprisonment and impalement, and began to understand the limits of its movement, restricted as it was by the cords attached to her toes. She could ease her head back, but not drop it forward.

  Her knees trembled weakly and she sank lower over the metal phallus, groaning aloud as it pushed deeper into her slender body. She felt faint, yet she marvelled that such a stout object could stab her as it was doing without really hurting her. She eased down further, sighing as she watched her straining pubic lips slide further down the polished cylinder. She could take more, her heels were tantalisingly close and she knew she could not maintain her present position for long. If she could only sit back on her heels… yet she could not do it, and tears of frustration filled her eyes.

  Pain blossomed as she sank lower over the unyielding shaft. Then she felt the pressure ease abruptly as she sank down a couple of inches, so her heels pressed into her buttocks and she shuddered with relief even as she suffered a flash of wanton satisfaction at how absolutely full she was.

  She stared at herself in the mirrors, blinking weakly and moaning in the throes of terrible pleasure.

  It had embarrassed Zoe to buy them; it had taken her forever to work up the courage. She tried to call Selina for moral support, but there was no answer from her office or at home, so finally she took the plunge, thrusting her credit card at the salesgirl before rushing away with her prizes jammed into a bag folded twice to keep anyone from seeing the logo of the lingerie shop.

  She had bought traditional items she thought would appeal to a man like Mr Erasmus, yet they were the kind of things she would never have considered wearing before. Even now she stared at herself in some amazement, wondering if she would really have the temerity to wear such raunchy items beyond the confines of her flat.

  The stockings were not difficult; all women wore stockings, though of course, these were less than casual with their seductive lacy pattern. They slid sensuously up her legs to her upper thighs, where they joined suspenders hanging from the belt around her waist. She wore a strapless, almost sheer bustier of matching white lace, and it was so tight she could feel her sex pushed outward against the high-cut thong.

  The bustier did not so much cover her breasts as squeeze them up and out to display them. Her nipples were barely concealed by the edge of cups only slightly more opaque than the rest of the garment, and Zoe stared at herself, entranced by the image in the glass.

  Weatherby moaned in delighted appreciation as the girl turned to one side, and his finger pressed down to snap another photograph.

  It was an expensive camera, and when his wife found out how expensive there would be a screaming match, but he would deal with that later. The camera was attached to his telescope now, and if its purpose was to take pictures of the stars, then surely it was right and proper he use it to preserve his glimpses of heaven on earth.

  The tops of her creamy breasts pushed up from the cups of her bustier, and he groaned as he snapped another picture, and another, and another. She turned before the mirror, her hands rising to her hair, and he snapped again, and again.

  ‘Now take it off…’ he panted, ‘come on, sweetheart, take it off… come on, darling, strip for me and show me your tits. You know you want to see how you look. Come on, precious…’

  Normand Miller held his breath as he stared through the tiny aperture. It had taken considerable effort to make the hole. The cramped attic floor was roughly constructed, yet he had been able to pry up a pair of old boards, and then scoop aside the insulation beneath to reveal the thin wooden strips and plaster between them. A screwdriver he found in a kitchen drawer had slowly, and with great effort, driven a hole through the thick plaster at an angle, and his eye was now pressed feverishly against the makeshift aperture.

  The insulation was sticking to his sweating face as he jammed his cheek against the plaster, but he cared not a whit. All he cared about was the wonderful vision of Zoe below him.

  He had waited in agony at the top of the trapdoor, listening and impatiently pressing his eye against the hole. And then frustration had gripped him as she moved off to one side so he could only see her legs from the thighs down. And there she had stripped off her clothes while he cursed silently. But then she finally walked back to this side of the room, where her bed and the mirror were, clad in almost nothing. His view from above plunged directly down her shadowy cleavage, and that enticing valley of warm flesh seemed to beckon his throbbing erection. What perfect breasts, what a perfect body, so sleek and glowing with life, with such beautifully rounded hips, so much revealed flesh his attention could not focus on any one part for long as he feasted on her whole.

  She turned her back to the mirror as he climaxed early, seeping his seed into his handkerchief as he saw the strip of white lace cutting up between her perfect buttocks. She bent slightly forward, and he clenched h
is teeth against the rush of sheer desire for her, squeezing his fist again and again around his instantly reawakening hard-on. Never before had anyone had such a potent effect on him.

  She looked uncertain as she moved away across the room, where his eager eye could not follow. Again he cursed his luck under his breath, for Zoe had gone to one corner he had to strain to see, the one with the chair in it, to strip and change. He could glimpse her sliding the thong down her legs and stepping out of it, and he mourned the lost opportunity to see her body more fully.

  Then she returned to his line of sight and he moaned softly once again at the sight of her in lacy white undergarments. Again she posed before the mirror, but this time she wore panties rather than a thong. They were as lacy and white as the rest of her scant attire, high-cut and captivatingly pretty, but much to his disappointment, they covered her lovely bottom more fully. And yet, somehow, he found himself agreeing with her as she nodded; thongs were not for her. Panties were far more in keeping with the Zoe he knew, far more innocent and yet still seductively alluring.

  He fantasised about charging into her bedroom and taking her, and about her lovers arriving and using her while he watched. They would tie her up and leave her that way in the dark and he would creep in again and take her as she moaned in pleasure, never knowing who it was that possessed her…

  She reached behind her and fumbled with the fastening of the bustier. Then she turned her back to the mirror and the catches came loose one by one. She moved to the corner again as she stripped the garment off, and all Normand saw was her bare back until that, too, was hidden from him. He closed his eyes and swore silently, watching and hoping, but when she came back into view she was wearing a robe, and then she walked out of the room completely.

  He pulled his face up from the hole in the floor and looked around the tiny dark roof space, amazed at what he had come to. He cursed the thought that she had gone to take a shower, but then carefully opened the trapdoor silently, and eased down the ladder to peer cautiously out of the wardrobe. The bathroom door was closed and he could hear the shower running and music coming from a radio within.