Chain of Command

by Nicole Dere

  She took little account of their wandering journey through the quiet country lanes, content to sit in the warm capsule of the purring car, to let her taut muscles relax into the protective scoop of the cushioned seat which held her as they meandered along. She had to make an effort to rouse herself when he suddenly pulled off the road and moved slowly along a wet track, whose surface was thickly covered with the dark detritus shed from the closely crowding trees of the woodland, like soggy tealeaves.

  The steady drip of the rain filtering through the canopy of branches was punctuated every few seconds by a heavier, sharper sound, as a drop clanged onto the metal roof of the car. He had manoeuvred off the track, which curved away to their right, and pulled up with the front bumper only a foot away from a low dry-stone wall, beyond which there seemed to be at first glance - nothing, except the expanse of low, grey, weeping sky. The drama of it helped to stir her a little from her lethargy.

  ‘Come on. Take in the view. It’s worth seeing, even on a day like this.’ He opened his door and got out. Still she made no move, huddled down in the seat until he came round to her side and opened the door. It was like an unspoken order and she swung her legs out and struggled upright, his hand firm on her arm to assist her. They stood by the jagged, glistening wet stones of the wall. The massive shapes seemed piled at random, but fitted into an efficient whole. The surfaces of the top layer were covered with a velvety green moss and paler little crusts of lichen.

  She was surprised at the steepness with which the land fell away on the other side of the wall. The dark woodland continued to reach down the slope away to their left, but ahead of them and to their right there was only coarse grass with outcrops of rock piercing through to the surface in places, sweeping down in a long plane to the river at the bottom of the valley and the dark, tree covered rise of the land on the far side. Over to the left, where the valley bottom broadened out, the ruins they had just visited stood, miniaturised by distance. The ground around them was a lush green and looked rich, like a well-nourished lawn, in spite of the gloom of the day.

  ‘Very impressive,’ she murmured like a sulky child, moved by the beauty of the view yet reluctant to admit it. ‘You obviously know your way round these parts. This where you bring all your girlfriends?’

  ‘You’re not my girlfriend,’ he reminded her. ‘You’re my whore, so what say we get some practice in?’ His sudden display of annoyance startled her. He jerked open the rear door and tugged her by the arm, thrusting her down onto the back seat, bumping her across the narrow space as he climbed in after her. She was pressed back, her head jammed uncomfortably below the window, her shoulders almost flat on the upholstery. She could feel his legs entangled with hers and he heaved himself roughly on top of her. She didn’t resist, after her initial stiffness at his assault. He kissed her with clumsy ferocity, his lips and face cold against hers.

  She lay passive against his crushing weight and felt his left hand thrusting with savage intensity under the obstacles of her bunched clothing, the buttoned trench coat and the tightness of her skirt. She could feel the hardness of his arm, its fierce determination as it burrowed up, dragging up her clothing with it until she could feel the cold air on her thighs, and her skirt in a tight band around them as he drove it up and up, homing in on the hidden goal of her sex.

  All the while his mouth was seeking hers, then finally his fingers achieved their target of the moist conflux of her thighs, and she felt his fingers pressing and tracing the soft furrow at the centre of her secret excitement, beneath its sheer concealment of the tights and silk knickers. She gave a soft moan against his crushing mouth, and her nostrils flared at the fiery strength of arousal the strokes of his hand were raising within her. She felt the gauzy material grow damp within seconds, and an involuntary tremor of her thighs in acknowledgement. The throbbing arousal began to take over and she felt her mind slipping, the weakness of her body and will part of that urgent need to which she was surrendering.

  The fingers squirmed, became rough as they sought to remove the last fragile barrier, fought to seize the elastic stretched low across her warm belly, and to penetrate joyfully into the slippery wetness. Jill’s hips lifted clear of the seat, thrusting up as though to welcome the invasion, and she whimpered, their hot breath mingling, their lips moving constantly against one another.

  ‘It’s nearly... it’s going to happen,’ she panted hoarsely, clawing at the back of his head as he crouched over her. ‘Do it - do it properly!’

  ‘I can’t. Not in here.’

  She was crying, but only in her need as he clawed savagely again, and hauled down the purple knickers and the tights together, down her thighs, down over her knees. The solid shoes, laces neatly tied in bows, were too formidable an obstruction, so he hauled her out of the car, left the tights and knickers stretched and clinging like bonds around her ankles, carrying her bodily across to an ancient tree a few yards away, close to the wall, as though seeking its protection. He slammed her back against the cracked bark and heard the rasp of her coat against its roughness. She put her arms round his driving shoulders. She would have fallen had he not clasped her firmly, pinning her against the tree. He scrabbled madly, released his penis from its confines and in wild desperation grabbed the hem of the skirt and forced it up, hauling it over her hips, baring her tummy.

  She could feel the tight bonds of the garments at her ankles and she forced her thighs apart, turning her knees, accommodating him as he drove his body between them, his fingers working frantically between their bellies, then like claws hooked into the yielding flesh of her bottom until, at last, she felt the tip of his prick prodding, searching, then stabbing into her, driving deep, impaling her, her buttocks grating against the bark, a discomfort that was not registered, lost in the blaze of sensations exploding within her as they juddered in unison to their climax.

  Afterwards, flayed with shame as painful as the physical grazes she would discover, she pictured it; how no secret observer could have seen anything, however close, apart from those knickers and tights stretched around her ankles, as they rutted against the tree. Screened by their enveloping garments, no flesh would have shown despite the conjunction of their deeply sealed bodies, for not one single article of clothing had been fully removed.

  But at the time, in that voluptuous moment after orgasm, she had no room in her disconnected thought for any of the shaming speculations of impropriety which would plague her later - even the physical sensation of the pain, and the soreness following his withdrawal, the cold seepage from within and the wetness of his semen on the bare skin of her thighs, was somehow held at a distance.

  He handed her a handkerchief and she turned away from him, her coat closing in a screen about her while she cleaned herself as best she could of his copious discharge.

  The sight of the purple knickers, their narrow crotch tautly stretched between her ankles, and the rope of her tights, hardly registered in her brain. She only became aware of them when he gently sat her on the edge of the front passenger seat, with her legs facing out, her feet on the leaf-strewn sogginess of the grass, and began to unlace her shoes, which he slipped off before sliding the tights and the French knickers off her feet.

  He bundled them up in a tight ball and pushed them into one of the deep pockets of her coat. Then he slipped the shoes on again, tied the laces carefully, and all the while she watched him like a little child.

  Her hair was wild and her face raw and smeared with her tears and their kisses, but she didn’t blush, and leaned forward to accept his kiss when he whispered, ‘That was fantastic.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jill was glad that darkness was falling earlier in the evenings, even though normally she hated the slide of summer and early autumn towards the winter. She felt somehow safer under the cover of darkness, especially when she was making one of these illicit rendezvous. With a touch of gallows humour she quickly correct
ed herself. This meeting, with Jackie, was not illicit. It was the rest of her life that was such a wicked lie - and far wickeder than she had ever supposed it would be when she began this fight against crime. But then she hardly knew what was right and what was wrong any more, certainly to judge by her own moral or, rather, immoral conduct. She found herself wondering just how deeply she had been scarred by the experience she had been thrown into, and how much the fault lay within the fatal weaknesses of her own character, for she had discovered a shocking new persona which, she could only presume, had been locked away within her nature, wanting only this unbridled set of circumstances to release it.

  She could feel the ache of muscles still, and the inner soreness from the previous night, a large part of which had been spent in the studio where she and Liz had cavorted in that disgusting artificial mud. But this latest extravaganza had been far lengthier, and more complex. The child’s paddling pool had been replaced by a large and authentically solid four-poster. It had needed to be solid, given the diversity of vigorous activity which had taken place there.

  As usual, those responsible for the shoot had tried to make the atmosphere one of light frolic, with plenty of bubbly, and even pills to pop - maybe more sinister stuff to snort or inject - she hadn’t seen any direct evidence of it, but she hadn’t looked very hard. She had managed to stick to the booze, as far as she knew, but even that was an area of uncertainty. She was ashamed at the thought that she might be able to seize as an excuse on the notion that some kind of aphrodisiac could have been slipped into her drink, to ‘loosen the old libido’, as Jack Palmer was so fond of saying. The trouble was she couldn’t fool herself; there was degeneracy somewhere in her genetic make-up, she could no longer deny it. The orgasms she had experienced, and delivered, with Liz Grant, and now with the lithe Goan girl and the voluptuous blonde Karyn, had been all too genuine. She would never have believed it of herself, and maybe if she had not been placed in this unprecedented situation, would never have discovered it: her fatal depth of sensuality, of sexual hunger which could make her, with people she scarcely knew and under the lecherous gaze of perfect strangers, lose herself in those purely animalistic sensations and responses that consumed her.

  Under the bright lights and the hotter eyes of an unseen select audience in the outer darkness, the four girls had sported among the white sheets and soft pillows. Starting off dressed in a convincing semblance of Victorian costume; the bustled gowns, the tightly laced stays, the flounced petticoats and split drawers, with their complicated drawstrings and frilled legs which extended to below the knee, they had enacted the simple erotic scenario. Liz and Jill were the two young maidens, the diminutive Odette their mischievous maid, who had removed their dresses and the framework of the bustles and the layers of petticoats, stripping them down to their lace camisoles and drawers, before similarly divesting herself of her white cap and apron and black maid’s dress, until all three were involved in some playful and then explicit sexual performances on the bed.

  It was interrupted by the sudden entrance of the governess, a somewhat less than convincing Karyn in severe black, with her blonde hair carefully piled in a precarious bun. It had taken quite a while to coach her for her part in the proceedings, much of it done by the girls themselves, with vigorous mime and broken English. Eventually Karyn seemed to understand what was required of her, especially as the action moved towards the denouement of this first episode, which was terminated by the three miscreants bending over the foot of the bed, with their drawers unfastened and hanging down at the back to reveal their naked bottoms pointed exotically at the camera.

  Still fully clothed Karyn wielded a wooden paddle, moving along the row, striking each in turn with a resounding crack, which drew very convincing yelps and squeals from the victims, as well as jerking bodies and shuffling limbs, while hands fluttered to rub at the stinging patches of redness which soon covered much of the expanse of proffered flesh. Odette’s haunches might not have shown quite as vividly the flaming red brands which stood out so exquisitely on Liz and Jill’s rears, but she clearly felt their effects just as deeply for she howled and writhed loudest of all, and had to be held down forcibly by the ‘governess’ to receive her chastisement.

  Clearly, Karyn had warmed to her task, and the girls’ cries and wriggling were genuine enough, as were the glowing patches crimsoning their behinds. There was no faking the stinging severity of the beatings, and no stunt girls or stand-ins, and though there were no retakes the trio were deeply relieved when they heard the cry of, ‘Cut!’

  ‘I think I have been,’ Odette wailed, gratefully accepting the hand towel soaked in cold water which was passed to her.

  But she and her two fellow sufferers had their opportunity for revenge. In the second and final scene the three turned the tables on their assailant and stripped her, not only of her outer garments, but of underwear as well, and tied her hand and foot before piling pillows under her midriff to raise into prominence the target of her pale buttocks, whose ample globes quivered delightfully and glowed entrancingly at the vigorous attentions applied to them by all three of her cohorts.

  Jill was glad when it was confirmed that nothing more was required of them. She whispered as much to Liz as they all removed what they could of the thick make-up and surrendered their borrowed finery to put on their own clothes again. ‘They mostly concentrate on one thing in blue movies,’ Liz said knowledgeably. ‘Just thank goodness this was a straightforward spanker. Some of them can go pretty far, bondage and whipping, no joke. But Jack knows I don’t go in for any of that sort of stuff, and I wouldn’t let my girls in for it either.’

  ‘Oh, we’re your girls now, are we?’ Jill said, and Liz smiled and gave her a swift hug.

  Karyn was in the process of easing a pair of white briefs up over her darkly marked buttocks. Her grey-blue eyes were moist with tears. They looked more animated than usual as she glowered at the dusky girl changing beside her. ‘You... you fucking beat too hard!’

  ‘My word, your English really is coming on a treat, Karyn,’ Liz quipped, and the docile blonde finally smiled reluctantly at the burst of laughter which erupted at the remark.

  This latest meeting with Jackie had been set up through Andrea Wise, who was now part of the plainclothes surveillance. She and Jill had made contact in a café near the busy bus station. The dark-haired policewoman looked convincingly like any of the numerous young working girls that hung about the place, with her dramatic black eye make-up and tousled hairstyle, like a coxcomb. Her enviably full breasts were generously on display, spilling out of the scooped neckline of her hooped blouse, under the trendily scruffy denim battledress jacket. She was also showing the required several inches of sexily bare belly, flashing her navel between blouse and low-slung jeans.

  ‘Can’t stop long,’ Jill said, glancing around before she perched on the high stool next to the girl and gave her a friendly peck on the cheek. ‘I need to see DI Barlow. Things are coming on fast. They might be moving the two girls, Karyn and Odette, very soon. Tell her I can make it tomorrow night, about eight. If it’s not on tell her to ring me on my mobile.’ Jackie was Jill’s mum for any direct contact by phone.

  ‘I’m sure it’ll be OK. She’ll be delighted.’

  Something about the tone of the remark made Jill glance sharply at her. Those vivid dark eyes gazed at her with a disturbing intensity and a certain hostility, she was sure. Or was it contempt? In spite of her recently developed skill at subterfuge, Jill felt herself colouring. The girl must know about her role, the things she had been required to do as part of it. Perhaps she had seen the taped interludes with Liz, which had gone out on Liz’s website. To say nothing of the infamous bed and bath scenario enacted with Tony Pope. With those loathsome creeps Wills and Harris having access to it all it was probably a foregone conclusion that several score of select viewers had been added to the list.

  ‘I don’t enjoy what I’
m doing, you know,’ Jill blurted, unable to keep her cool at Andy’s sneering tone.

  ‘Could’ve fooled me!’

  The plump cherry lips widened in an insufferable grin, and the dark eyes stared with insolent directness. Jill felt her fingers curl with the urge to slap her face hard. ‘Make sure the boss gets the message.’ She finished the rest of the milky coffee and put her left hand on Andy’s shoulder in a friendly parting gesture as she slid from the stool. She leaned close and Andy offered her cheek for another light kiss. ‘You look better in uniform,’ Jill murmured in her ear.

  ‘At least I keep my clothes on,’ the seated figure called out to Jill’s retreating back.

  The next evening Jill managed to find a parking space for the Mini a street away from Jackie’s flat, and she took her time making the short trip to the old Victorian house, glancing about to make sure no one was following, or hanging about outside, before she swiftly climbed the front steps and rang Jackie’s bell. She spoke softly into the intercom in response to Jackie’s query, and heard the buzz and click that opened the front door. Seconds later she was safe in the cosily-lighted haven of the flat, and the enveloping hug of her superior, who kissed her possessively before she could even utter a greeting. The kiss ended at last but Jackie still did not release her, almost lifting her off her feet as they stumbled through to the lamp-lit living room. Only then did she let her go, and stood back to survey her.