They held their breath as they watched the brunette toss the gold band away, drag the thong from her deep cleft and finger the gleaming gem up inside her rectum. Bostick snarled softly as the thief’s long, white finger slipped out from between her soft, swollen buttocks and probe the silk thong back into position.
‘She’s plugged it. Door alert.’
The exclusive emporium – favoured by European royalty and rock star babes – boasted not one but two impressively liveried doormen. Former Coldstream Guards RSMs, they now manned the smoked glass and onyx portals to the off-Bond Street boutique wearing orange toppers and black frock coats with grey frogging. Both wore discreet earphones.
They had been studying the beauty of a cream-and-azure Bentley when the alert came. As if stung by wasps, they both sprang up the marble steps and, in silent unison, sternly faced the smoked glass double doors.
The brunette emerged, fishing daintily for Raybans. The orange top hats converged, offering impeccably polite assistance. She smilingly declined their gallantry. Undaunted, they insisted. The doors whispered apart – Bostick emerged, blinking in the strong sunshine after the dark surveillance room. Adroitly gripping her target’s elbow with fingers of steel, she propelled the brunette back inside the emporium. Adjusting their improbable top hats, the two doormen turned to resume their perusal of the sleek Bentley.
Keeping up a pleasant banter about a new range of fragrances, Bostick steered the yellow Chanel suit unswervingly across the ground floor then down a flight of uncarpeted steps to a basement room. Pushing through the bland, beige door, she shoved her captive inside and closed the door, locking it silently. Yvonne was busy loading a cassette into a VCR.
‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’ the target demanded icily.
‘My colleague and I have reason to believe –’ Yvonne began.
‘Cut the crap. Name?’ Bostick demanded.
The brunette tossed her head imperiously and remained silent.
Yvonne, setting the VCR on rewind, snatched away the black bag and pushed the thief down on to a hard, wooden chair.
‘How dare you? I demand to see –’
‘Shut it, sweetie,’ Bostick snapped. ‘Who is she?’
Fishing out a gold card, Yvonne read out the brunette’s name – a name frequently gracing the gossip columns of the glossies.
‘Cross-check. It could be hot.’
The brunette glared at Bostick as Yvonne exhumed more evidence of identity: a cheque book, driving licence and dildo with their captive’s first name etched along its gleaming length.
‘If it’s on the chick-dick it must be true,’ Bostick chuckled. Then she clapped her hands. ‘Gotcha. I knew it. Never forget a face. You’re his ex, aren’t you?’
Yvonne framed a question with her eyebrows.
‘Our MD, of course. Him upstairs, when he’s ever there. This –’ Bostick gestured ‘– is last year’s hot tottie. Dump you, did he? Come back for a final instalment for services rendered?’
The brunette rose and snatched back her black purse. ‘I popped in to buy a bustier. I didn’t like what I saw –’
‘Neither did we, sweetie,’ Bostick broke in, patting the VCR.
The brunette paled, then flushed angrily. ‘That’s outrageous – I mean – I didn’t – But you just can’t do that –’
‘If that’s a confession, I’ll buy it,’ Bostick laughed.
The thief made a rush for the door. Neither of her captors moved. Scrabbling at the locked door, the thief thumped it impotently with her gloved fists.
‘Get back over here and strip. Or do you want to do this the hard way?’
The brunette did it the hard way – squealing as Bostick and Yvonne handled her roughly, dragging her Chanel jacket and skirt off before snatching down her black tights. The shivering young thief, dressed in nothing but her slender thong, cupped her naked breasts protectively.
‘Across the table. Face down and legs apart,’ Bostick instructed.
The thief tightened her folded arms defensively, causing her squashed breasts to bulge. Her chin rose a fraction in defiance.
‘I’m waiting, sweetie. In your own time,’ Bostick continued laconically.
‘N-no,’ their captive stammered. ‘You c-can’t –’
‘Across the table for a strip search, sweetie. Do it now.’
Exposing her bosom, the brunette dropped her hands down to her thighs. Surreptitiously inching her fingertips around to the swell of her buttocks, she furtively scrabbled at her cleft.
‘Leave that alone,’ Bostick snarled, taking two menacing paces towards the nude. ‘I’ll get the stone out. Pleasant little perk that goes with the job.’
Yvonne giggled; her dominant partner silenced her with a scowl. Suddenly grappling the cowering brunette, Bostick twisted the nude around towards the table, then forced her face down across it, ordering Yvonne to grab and secure the thief’s wrists. Yvonne obeyed, pinioning the nude down in helpless surrender.
‘Legs apart,’ came the crisp command.
The splayed nude whimpered. Crack. Bostick spanked the upturned cheeks savagely, swiping her flattened palm dominantly down across their proffered swell.
The spank elicited a shrill squeal of outrage from the writhing nude across the table.
‘I said get your legs apart, bitch,’ the spanker warned the spanked.
Her reddening cheeks wobbled as the thief sullenly obeyed, inching her thighs apart. ‘Please don’t –’
Snapping on a pair of disposable plastic gloves, Bostick demanded silence. Submitting to the stern command, the nude slumped down across the table, rolling slightly to ease her crushed breasts.
‘And stay absolutely still,’ Bostick warned.
The nude shivered at the ominous command. Gazing down at the superbly rounded buttocks which she had just spanked, Bostick saw each cheek dimple with fearful expectation. She patted them, her plastic-sheathed fingertips drumming the rubbery globes of naked flesh. Snarling softly, Bostick suddenly swept her thumbtip down between the buttocks, raking the warmth of the dark cleft. The nude moaned. Bostick withdrew her thumbtip and scrutinised the dulled plastic sheath.
‘A bit sticky, aren’t you?’ she queried, wiping the thumbtip on the nude’s left buttock. ‘We know you’ve got sticky fingers.’ Her plastic-gloved hand swept down – twice – to spank the naked buttocks harshly.
‘No,’ the nude shouted, then cursed her tormentress.
‘Yes, you have, you little thief. Sticky fingers and a sticky bottom.’ Demanding absolute silence, Bostick snapped her fingers at Yvonne for the box of tissues. Taking a tissue, Bostick wedged it roughly between the spanked cheeks, then dragged it up along the cleft in a single sweep. Face down into the hard wooden table, the pinioned nude hissed aloud.
‘That’s better,’ Bostick murmured, tossing the soiled tissue aside after examining it briefly. ‘Now I think it’s time we took a little look inside Aladdin’s cave for the jewel. Open sesame.’ Bostick chuckled, kneeling down and pressing her face into the softness of the right buttock.
An eerie silence filled the small room. For a full two minutes only the muted scratching of the pigeons jostling for space on the window ledge beyond the drawn blinds could be heard. Up in the bright sunshine, the orange-toppered doormen saluted the Bentley as it purred away from the pavement. Bond Street was busy and bustling: mobile phones chirruped, taxi brakes squealed and electronic tills silently accepted whispering plastic cards. Down in the silent room, where two women held a nude in their thrall, only their heartbeats were audible.
Deftly probing the nude’s rosebud sphincter with her straightened index finger, Bostick explored the tight warmth of the rectum. The nude contracted her inner muscles, denying the plastic-sheathed finger deeper access. Bostick pressed her lips into the naked buttock, then, peeling her lips apart, bit softly into the firm cheek. The nude screamed, collapsing her belly down into the table in abject surrender. The probing finger met no more resista
nce. Bostick twisted her wrist – the nude rose up on her scrabbling white toes – then raked the rectal warmth with her fingertip.
‘Got it,’ Bostick grunted softly as she located, and slowly retrieved, the secreted gem. ‘That just about clinches it,’ she whispered, depositing the recovered stone down on the table. It glittered under the harsh neon above, almost as brightly as the tears squeezed from the thief’s tightly shut eyes.
‘Police?’ Yvonne murmured, relaxing her grip on the pinioned wrists slightly.
‘Yep,’ Bostick replied, her stern tone belied by the grin she flashed her colleague over the bending nude. ‘Get on the phone.’
The brunette wriggled and broke free. Staggering back, her buttocks squashed up against the wall.
‘Hope you brought your toothbrush, sweetie. No bail for a stunt like this,’ Bostick said, palming the precious stone. ‘Bed and several breakfasts in Holloway.’
The nude paled as she sank slowly down to her knees, dragging her buttocks against the wall. Bostick peeled off the plastic gloves, finger by stretchy finger. Yvonne picked up the phone and started to dial.
‘Of course,’ Bostick murmured softly, ‘we could wrap this up here and now.’
Yvonne paused, her finger an inch above the button. The nude glanced up quickly.
Yvonne replaced the receiver. Reaching across to the VCR, she stroked it. ‘Tapes can be wiped so easily.’
‘And we’ve got the stone back,’ Bostick rejoined, ignoring the anxious face of their captive.
‘Save on all the paperwork –’
‘Get away on time.’ Yvonne nodded in agreement.
‘So which is it to be, sweetie?’ Bostick demanded, harshly interrogating the startled thief. ‘Punishment – or the police?’
Their captive looked up, blinking in the glare of the neon uncomprehendingly.
‘Choose.’
‘Not the police.’ The brunette shook her head. ‘Not that.’
‘Punishment it is, then.’ Bostick nodded judiciously as she rubbed her hands together with brisk and evident relish. ‘You first,’ she gestured to Yvonne. ‘She’s your pull. You took the call.’
Yvonne grinned, basking in her stern partner’s generosity. She crossed over to the slumped nude, then grasped her wrist and dragged her to her feet. Arranging a chair next to the table, Yvonne sat down, then forced the naked brunette across her lap.
‘Pass me her tights.’
‘No – please –’ the thief squealed, wriggling frantically.
Bostick scooped up the shrivelled black tights and tossed them to her partner.
‘Hands together,’ Yvonne commanded, dragging the writhing girl’s arms up behind her.
The brunette hesitated, protesting plaintively.
Yvonne took the tights and shook them out into a shining skein. She started to bind the captive wrists tightly. The nude made a lurching bid for freedom.
‘You chose. I can make that phone call if you really want me to,’ Yvonne whispered, pinning the thief down firmly by the nape of her neck.
Slowly, reluctantly, the nude drew her arms back together as instructed, submitting her wrists to the bondage of the tights.
‘Sensible girl,’ Yvonne purred, caressing the naked buttocks with the open palm of her spanking hand. ‘Sensible girl.’
‘I’m sorry – Please don’t –’ the thief whispered, squeezing her cheeks tightly together beneath the increasingly dominant caresses of Yvonne’s firm palm.
The punisher ordered her victim to keep still – and silent – but the strict warning only succeeded in triggering the nude into a frenzy of wriggling and loud protest. Yvonne looked to Bostick for direction. Bostick tapped her left breast in silence, then turned her hand into a claw at her own bosom. Yvonne nodded, then reached down to cup and squeeze her captive’s left breast. The solid sphere of satin warmth bulged as it filled her hand. Yvonne squeezed harder; the brunette squealed as the controlling talon bunched the naked bosom ruthlessly.
‘She’s going to yell the place down,’ Bostick observed impatiently. ‘Better use this.’ Picking up the gleaming dildo from the table, she examined it closely – thumbing the cool length appreciatively – before approaching the bare-bottomed thief sprawled across her punisher’s lap.
‘Open wide,’ Bostick commanded.
The thief, twisting her face around, glimpsed the dildo. She parted her thighs instantly, dipping her tummy and proffering herself up on whitened tiptoe for the shaft. Bostick snorted, suppressing a grim laugh, and briefly teased the outer lips of the wet pussy with the blunt snout.
‘Not those lips, bitch.’ Bending down, Bostick inserted the dildo into the thief’s protesting mouth, silencing her squeals as the smooth ivory slid between the parted lips.
The first seven spanks – swift as they were savage – rang out crisply. Yvonne gripped the brunette dominantly by the nape of her neck and pinned her down as she administered the flurry of searing spanks with her flattened palm across the rounded buttocks. The dildo rendered the brunette’s shrill squeals into barely audible whimpers. Yvonne paused, fingering the hot cheeks firmly, then knuckling them – and the cleft between – as she briefly released her grip on the nude’s neck and used her free hand to toy with the dildo, driving it deeply into the thief’s mouth.
Bostick barked her disapproval. ‘This is work, not play. Get on with it.’ Her eyes narrowed jealously.
Yvonne blushed under Bostick’s anger, her cheeks reddening as warmly as those she had just spanked. Returning her left hand to the thief’s neck, she spanked the girl again, very hard, with another stinging seven. The blistering cheeks blazed beneath the furious onslaught, their pinkness deepening into a plum’s shade of pain with each cruel swipe. In their stockinged bondage, the bound hands writhed, the fingers of the spanked nude splaying out in mute protest. Bucking and writhing across her chastiser’s knee, the brunette squirmed in her struggle to escape, her joggling buttocks enflaming Yvonne into a renewed onslaught. The small room echoed to the harsh cracks of the punishing palm across the burning buttocks as Yvonne scorched them into the stillness of submission.
Bostick, gazing down at the thief in abject surrender, nodded curtly. ‘Much better.’
Yvonne glanced up, basking in the approval, then lowered her eyes to the hot bottom at her mercy. Her victim had slumped – utterly tamed and subdued – across her thighs. Yvonne sensed the naked bosom nestling into her stocking’s sheen, felt the stubby nipples prinking with excitement. Placing her spanking hand down across the swollen contours of the spanked cheeks, she relaxed her grip on the thief’s neck and tenderly stroked the bowed head. Bostick’s soft growl brought Yvonne’s hand back to the neck instantly. Yvonne looked up anxiously at her stern partner.
‘Another dozen,’ Bostick prescribed, swiftly dragging her straightened index finger down along the cleft between the crimson cheeks. ‘The bitch needs to learn. Let the lesson be painful.’
Yvonne nodded eagerly, closing her eyes and opening her mouth obediently to receive Bostick’s finger – fresh from the brunette’s hot cleft. She shrank a fraction from the feral tang anointing the dominant finger, but Bostick drove it deeper, filling her submissive partner’s mouth with the acrid taste of the suffering brunette.
Keeping the finger firmly in place, Bostick gazed down upon the hot buttocks below. ‘You’re doing a good job there. Excellent,’ she whispered. ‘Proceed.’
Yvonne sucked hard on the finger, relishing her stern partner’s approval. Bostick made no attempt to remove her finger, remaining, feet planted apart, towering above both the punisher and the punished.
‘I said, proceed.’
Guzzling on the finger filling her mouth, Yvonne spanked the bare-bottomed thief with a measured dozen, delivering each searing swipe slowly and deliberately. Dizzy with the delicious delight of dominance and discipline, she sank her breasts down into the scrabbling fingers of the suffering nude, allowing the frantic fingernails to ravish her nipples, then crushed
her bosom down into the hot cheeks.
Bostick, withdrawing her finger from her partner’s mouth, turned away, her fingers now busy at her slit. More cruel spanks rang out. The protracted punishment drove both chastiser and chastised towards orgasm.
Bostick, skirt riding her hips, was strumming her pantied pubic mound. ‘Harder,’ she hissed, ‘and faster.’
Another flurry of spanks – harder and faster, as Bostick had decreed – echoed around the room. The brunette jerked, raking her exposed slit repeatedly against her punisher’s nylon-stockinged thighs as she approached her climax. Yvonne, thrilled by the wetness of the spanked nude, drummed her feet in ecstasy as her own delicious spasms soaked her cotton panties. Suddenly, with their eyes closed and their heads tossed back, both punisher and punished came together in sweet unison.
‘That’s enough of that,’ Bostick thundered, turning around swiftly in response to the silence of the stilled spanking hand. ‘The bitch is here for pain, not pleasure.’
Yvonne opened her eyes, blinking guiltily. The jealous anger of her partner replaced the delight on her upturned face with fear. She clamped her thighs together in a futile attempt to deny the second climax threatening to explode within her. Above her reddened cheeks, the bound hands of the nude twisted in ecstasy as she succumbed to her renewed orgasm.
‘I warned you,’ Bostick snarled, advancing on Yvonne. ‘Give her to me.’
The dildo fell out of the thief’s mouth as Bostick grappled her up and across to the table. Red-bottomed and stumbling, she was helpless in her captor’s fierce grip. Bostick forced the bound nude face down before spread-eagling and arranging her for more pain. Scooping up the dildo, she returned to the bending thief and drove it between her spanked cheeks. The brunette’s left foot rose up, treading the empty air.
‘Feet down and spread your legs,’ Bostick commanded.
The brunette, crushing her breasts into the table, obeyed.
Bostick gave the ivory shaft a quarter-turn twist. ‘Submit.’
The cheeks tightened, denying the dildo access. ‘No –’
‘Submit,’ Bostick hissed, twisting the dildo cruelly.
Brought to Heel Page 4
