Chain of Command

by Nicole Dere

  Her voice died away, she gazed mutely at Jackie like an errant child, and Jackie felt that dark, flowering pulse of excitement deep inside. Got you! She shook her head for a third time, more slowly this time, as one who had come to a reluctant decision. ‘No, I’m afraid I’ve got no alternative. It wouldn’t be fair on DC Christie or any of the rest of the team. I’ll be putting in a disciplinary report to CI Lomas. I just thought I ought to let you know personally, in advance. Because I’ve always thought you showed a lot of promise. I must say it makes me feel bloody disappointed, Wise, but there we are.’

  Andy’s head was swimming. She still couldn’t understand it. Who the hell had dropped her in it? OK, so she’d talked about it, but it was common knowledge anyway, the Gresham Street business. And she’d only chatted with Chopper and Willie, really... and her boyfriend, Bob Tidy. She’d mentioned it to him, but only in passing. Anyway, he was one of them too, on the cars in Benbrough’s motorised section. But an official report to her superiors! It would be on her file, it would be a damn big blot; it could spoil her chances of getting promotion, of getting into CID, maybe for good!

  She stepped forward, her hands clasped in front of her as though in prayer. ‘Please, Ma’am, give me a chance - another chance. I swear, I’ll do anything! I’ll never breathe a word to anyone, ever again, I promise, Ma’am.’ The breasts rose and quivered deliciously as a small, stifled sob escaped. ‘Oh, Ma’am, please.’

  Jackie got up, deliberately, came around the desk, and put a hand firmly on Andy’s shoulder. She felt the narrow bra strap through the material of the shirt. She thrilled to the excitement of the chase, and the heady scent of conquest. She let her fingers dig in with just an extra degree of firmness. ‘Come on, now. Don’t get yourself all upset. It’s no more than a ticking off. You can pull your socks up. Make sure you do better in future.’ She let the hand fall away, but stayed close to the distressed girl. She saw the tears fall, tremble on those dark, curly lashes.

  ‘But it’ll be on my record, Ma’am. Official, like. It’ll stay there. I’m begging you, Ma’am. I mean it. I’d do anything if you’ll just give me this one chance to... to redeem myself.’ Even as the words poured from her tiny alarm bells began to sound in Andy’s swirling brain, and were confirmed only seconds later as that firm hand came up again and cradled her neck, where it showed above the open collar of the shirt. It felt warm and dry, and dangerously intimate. The pad of the thumb moved up on Andy’s cheek and smudged away the tear which lay there.

  ‘You’ll get me shot, you will.’ Jackie’s words came out as a low rumble. Andy felt them almost like a physical sensation, passing up into the pit of her stomach. The hand at her neck was burning hot now. ‘We could keep this entirely private, Andy. Just between us girls. I’d be sticking my neck out.’

  There was a longer pause and Andy felt her whole frame shaking. She was sure her agitation would be transmitted to the hand that was still clasped at her neck, and which felt like some kind of retraining collar holding her prisoner.

  The car pulled up outside Jackie’s flat and PC Wise stared up at the respectable façades of the tall Victorian houses. She felt sick and hollow inside, her limbs so unsteady that she wondered if they would support her when she got out of the car. ‘I’m not gay, Ma’am.’ Andy whispered the words again, dully, and winced at the dismissive laugh which greeted them.

  The sunlit living room looked so cosily prosaic it served only to add to the unreal feeling which had gripped Andy ever since she’d first agreed to be part of this mad adventure. All at once she found herself deeply regretting the choice she had made, to place herself so entirely in Barlow’s hands. She tried once more, trying not to let her voice break down completely. ‘I told you, Ma’am. I’m straight, right? I’ve never... I couldn’t be any other way. Not ever.’

  ‘Have you ever tried?’

  The black hair shook in violent negation. ‘I just... couldn’t. I’m sorry, Ma’am, if you thought otherwise. You couldn’t be more wrong.’

  ‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much! Shakespeare, Wise. Know what it means?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘It means you’re making far too much of a song and dance about it, sweety. You’re here to be punished, not to be given the thrill of your little lifetime. See that chair? Bend over it and show me that fat arse of yours. Pronto!’

  Andy’s mouth fell open, her brown eyes popped.

  ‘Don’t stand there gaping, sugar. Bend over and bare your backside. Right now!’

  The last words were roared like a sergeant major on a parade ground and Andy flinched visibly. Whimpering softly she moved slowly towards the high back of the armchair, and still with an almost somnambulant motion, she bent forward until she could feel the back resting in her midriff, and her raised rump straining tightly against the restriction of the dark skirt.

  ‘You won’t feel a thing through that bloody skirt. Hitch it up, girl. Hurry up.’

  Andy felt even more dreamlike as she reached back and, with some difficulty, struggled to drag the thick material up off her bottom. With a growl of impatience Jackie seized the back of the hem. With a wrench that threatened disaster to the side fastening, she hauled up the garment at the back to expose a fetching pair of legs, clad in black nylons up to mid-thigh, where the pale flesh emerged, before the taut confines of a pair of high-waist black cotton briefs appeared stretched over the full cheeks of the buttocks.

  Jackie stared with deep pleasure and gave a throaty chuckle. ‘Hold-ups, eh? Much better than tights in this warm weather. Saves a lot of bother, I expect, especially when you’re dropping ‘em for Chopper Harris and the rest of the lads.’

  The voice which answered was muffled as it came from the depths of the cushions, and was further distorted by the sobs which caught in Andy’s throat. ‘I duh - don’t, Ma’am.’

  ‘Huh? You’ve got some taste then. But I want bare cheeks, my lovely. I want you to feel this reprimand and remember it every time you sit down, at least for a few days.’ As she spoke she very lightly plucked at the elastic of the briefs as it stretched across the bare lower back, and flipped it down until the pale cheeks showed fully in all their splendour. They quivered, then dimpled as Andy clenched in involuntary anticipation of the ordeal to follow. ‘Keep still.’

  Andy heard her leave the room, and hung there, sniffling, trying to muffle her weeping and acutely aware of the cool of the air on her bare bottom, and the elastic of her knickers stretched humiliatingly across the lower fold of her cheeks. But she had little time to dwell on the indignity of her situation, for Jackie was back within seconds.

  It wasn’t until later that Andy discovered what the instrument of chastisement was, when she saw the long-handled hairbrush the aggressor had wielded. The first she knew was a startlingly loud crack and a fierce leap of flame across the resilient flesh, and her head jerked up as she let out a startled, agonised yelp. The dark, tousled head was thrust forcibly down again by Jackie’s hand fastened firmly round the back of the neck. ‘Keep the noise down, sunshine, or we’ll have the neighbours coming round to complain, and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?’ She thrust what later proved to be a tea towel at the prostrate figure. ‘Bite on that if you can’t keep quiet. Anyone would think you’d never had your arse tanned before!’

  And she certainly hadn’t - not like this! The blows came fast and with unfailing vigour, until the sobbing girl was sure her behind must be ablaze. She howled and blubbered blindly into the wet towel, and twisted violently to escape the fiery torment. She was strongly assisted in keeping to her subservient posture by the grip of Jackie’s left hand at the base of her neck, holding her down so hard that the edge of the chair prodded painfully into her stomach. She tried to plead for the punishment to cease, to beg for mercy, but her words dissolved into a formless cry, her blind face soaked with her tears and saliva, her world a red fog of scorching agony.

 
Slowly she became aware that the pain was a steady burn, that the terrible splats and cracks of the devastating blows had ceased, and her shoulders heaved with the torrent of her desolate sobs. She hung there for long seconds while Jackie stood, recovering her breath and deeply aware of the wet patch pressed against her crotch, and the still powerful beat of her desire. She stared with both satisfaction and further longing at the vivid red imprints, already swelling at their edges on the pale rounds.

  Andy groaned and hissed with renewed pain when Jackie finally hauled her upright. Her bottom was afire, and she stood shivering, her knickers falling about her knees as she stood there, the narrow band of the skirt still bunched about her hips at the front and in the small of her back at the rear. Subconsciously she held the skirt up, adding to the degradation of her stance, in order to prevent the thick material making contact with her throbbing behind. She moved stiffly, like an old arthritic woman, bent forward from the hips as Jackie led her to the bathroom, and the knickers descended further, fell about her ankles and threatened even her limited motion until Jackie stooped and, at her command, Andy lifted her feet while Jackie slipped the knickers free.

  The blisters were coming up in hard ridges and Andy gasped, holding her skirt bunched about her waist, oblivious to the exposure she was making of her lower portions, even the darkly fleeced pubic mound, while Jackie applied a blessedly cold wet flannel to the abused flesh, and then finally soothed the whole area with cold cream. Jackie was kneeling in front of Andy, breathing in the entrancing scent of her muskiness. ‘Now then,’ she crooned, gazing up at the pain-ravaged features. ‘Remember what we said about trying before knocking?’

  Her fingers were still greasy with the cream as they slid up over a pale, trembling thigh, above the black stocking, and moved in on the narrow fold of the sex lips under the luxuriant black curls. Insidiously, teasingly, the fingers eased their way in through the tightness of the fissure, felt the already lubricated inner surfaces of the labia, and Andy’s dark head hung forlornly, she whimpered at the pain when her buttocks automatically clenched once more, but this time in response to an entirely novel and very different sensation.

  Two of the fingers fanned out, to open and expose the uppermost area of the vulva, the tiny hidden bud of the clitoris in its gleaming refuge, rubbed and caressed until the belly and hips thrust forward and Andy let out a cry at the new fires that were being stoked. The fingers moved again, and slid easily into the narrow entrance of the vagina, thrust into the sheath, whose spasming walls seemed to embrace them in welcome.

  Jackie moved her warm face closer until she could feel the smooth inner thigh rest against her cheek, and the pubic curls tickled her nose and her lips as she bestowed a kiss on the cushioning flesh beneath them. Rapturously she inhaled the deep, musky scent of her victim’s arousal. She let her face press closer, until it pushed against the mound and the swell of the belly. ‘I love a nice curvy tummy,’ she whispered, her breath spreading its warmth, and Andy shuddered. Jackie was nibbling and lapping now, at the sex mound and at the sturdy thighs and the crease of belly, and Andy continued to shiver, her hips grinding against the busy face in instinctive reaction to the kisses.

  Jackie came upright while keeping her fingers hooked in Andy’s vagina, until the helpless girl was leaning heavily against her as though she could not stand unaided. ‘Here, have a taste of yourself,’ she urged, slowly kissing Andy and rejoicing at the thrill of those soft lips which pressed ripely against hers, parted, yielding and accepting the penetration of the tongue, until both slithering organs writhed and twisted over one another in a ferocity of passion. When Jackie finally ended the kiss Andy clung, sagging in her grip. Jackie’s left hand was holding her by the back of her glossy black hair, pinning that helpless face against her own. ‘I think we’d better get you out of this gear, don’t you? You said you wanted to get out of uniform, didn’t you? Well, guess what? You’re gonna make it, baby, sooner than you thought.’ She gave a lecherous laugh, which seemed to pass through her entire frame, then with a grunt of effort scooped up the dishevelled, semi-naked figure in her arms. ‘So you’re not gay, eh?’ she mocked. ‘You could have fooled me!’

  Chapter Nine

  Jill started as the burly, well groomed and conservatively dressed figure bore down on her with a beaming smile. ‘Jill, so good to see you again. God, but you’re a sight for sore eyes, believe me!’

  She felt the large red hands dig in as they seized her wrists, pulled her up out of the deep armchair and drew her close. She felt his cool face burrow into her cheek and neck, caught a powerful whiff of his sharp cologne as his lips made contact just under her ear, and she shivered in the embrace, which he broke quickly enough. She could feel herself blushing as she disengaged and sat again, smoothing down the hem of the dress over her bare knees. He had clearly been observing her, and as he sat next to her and took her hand murmured quietly, ‘Got to be on the safe side. Somebody might be watching. You don’t think anyone followed you? Smile at me. At least look as though you’re pleased to see me.’

  The last sentence was delivered from behind the same smiling, fond appraisal, and only made her blush deepen. She had followed Jackie’s instructions and driven out to the Woodsman via a circuitous detour and she shook her head slightly in answer to his question. Actually she had little idea, but she guessed that if anyone had been tailing her they would have had great difficulty in keeping her under surveillance, given the busy mid-morning traffic out of town, and the devious route she had taken.

  A smart looking girl with long legs encased in black stockings shapely enough to justify the shortness of her black miniskirt and crisp white blouse came over to take their order. It had occurred to Jill that her superior had been somewhat lax in picking this out-of-town hostelry for today’s rendezvous in view of their recent visit, but Jackie had dismissed her misgivings with typical asperity.

  ‘I know I think you’re gorgeous, sweety, but there’s no need to assume every letching barman has you indelibly printed on his memory,’ she’d said. ‘The Woodsman’s out of the way and, more importantly, you know where the fucking place is, so we don’t have to worry about you getting lost before we’ve even started. Besides, it’s just the kind of smart knocking shop a high-class tart like you would meet her client in. Good for the image, babe.’

  And so here she was, hollow-gutted with nerves but looking very fetching and not at all tarty, meeting up with Detective Sergeant Tony Pope, aka Martin Grimmond, successful wheeler-dealer and randy old sugar daddy of Jill Crystal; hot, bright new player in the oldest profession. Trouble was, Jill thought as she eyed this stranger with whom she was supposed to be dying to fall into bed with ASAP, that randy he might be, but old he definitely was not! She had formed a vivid picture of Martin Grimmond in her mind: tall, thin, aristocratic features attractively lined, greying, immaculately styled hair sweeping back from distinguished temples, resonating deep voice, cultured tone, urbane wit. Now she concentrated instead on the Martin Grimmond of the just-a-bit too solid flesh before her.

  Certainly he looked fleshy, even jowly, and of florid complexion. Though clean-shaven there was that hint of shadow about his chin and upper lip that suggested a thick beard and heavy stubble, designer or otherwise, should he forego a single session with his razor.

  His black hair shone and was sleekly straight, swept back from his high brow, though short at the sides and neck. His eyebrows were thick too, and though dark were of a slightly lighter shade than his glossed hair. His features were even and unremarkable, of an open ruddiness redolent of country rather than city gent.

  Least attractive in Jill’s eyes were his hands: great pink hams, raw-looking, with stubby fingers which had clamped round her wrists, with merciful brevity, like the steel restraints which were a symbol of their trade.

  ‘You’ll have to get pretty pally with him,’ Jackie had warned with that disturbing, penetrating glance Jill knew so well
, during their last briefing. ‘Your redhead will be watching you very closely. You’ve got to give the performance of your life, if you want to convince her and anybody else who might be watching.’

  Jill’s eyes had widened in renewed alarm at these last words. ‘Oh yes,’ Jackie nodded. ‘I know she’s clearing out to let you and Martin have the place to yourselves for your get together, but I guarantee that place will be well and truly bugged. And if you or any of our boys give the place the once over the game will be up anyway. Even if you don’t go out on the net having your oats, there’ll be someone spying on you some way, I reckon. So it’s up to you, sweetheart. You’ve got to convince them you’re for real.’

  ‘You can’t... you don’t mean I should... should... you know... do it... with him?’

  Jackie had pulled her close on the tumbled bed, rolled her onto her back and spread herself over the captive figure, breast to breast, belly to belly, groin to groin. She moved in a slow rhythm, pressing intimately down on her, feeling the yielding reciprocal movement, the springy jouncing of the mattress. ‘Line of duty, babe. Or is it beyond? Up to you but like I said, you’ve got to convince some pretty tough cookies that shagging Martin is your greatest delight. Now you can make out like they do in porn movies,’ she ground her pubic bone illustratively against Jill’s, rotating her hips in a suggestive manner, ‘so no actual penetration takes place, as they say. But nobody’s got to know that except you,’ she chuckled coarsely, ‘and the redoubtable Martin, of course.’

  The words haunted Jill now as she sat opposite the total stranger in the comfortable but unremarkable pub lounge. She felt hollow and sick inside with nerves, and all at once had a terrible urge to flee the place, and him, and the whole sorry, surreal mess she had gotten herself into since coming to Benbrough.