Chain of Command

by Nicole Dere

  She tutted admonishingly. ‘Oh, what have I told you, young lady? You forgetting the house rules already? Maybe you need a sharp reminder.’ She gestured at the dark slacks.

  ‘I had to wear them,’ Jill pleaded, as Jackie helped her out of the heavy jacket. ‘A chilly night like this; Liz would have been suspicious if I’d worn a skirt, or a dress.’

  ‘I see. She chooses your wardrobe for you now, does she?’ Her hands hauled roughly at Jill’s waist, undoing the metal fastener and unzipping the fly of the trousers. ‘Well you can get them off right now, lady.’ She began to tug the garment off Jill’s hips, and Jill sank back onto the settee as Jackie dragged them down over her knees, to cling around her calves, their further progress hampered by the ankle boots. ‘Oh shit, you’re going from bad to worse!’ Jackie exclaimed. ‘What’s this? Tights, for fuck’s sake? I’ll not have any bird of mine hiding under those sweaty aberrations. Lift your feet.’

  Helplessly Jill obeyed, and Jackie heaved off the boots, then the trousers. She gestured impatiently. ‘Lift your bum, come on.’ Fingers scrabbled for the waistband of the gauzy tights and Jill was reminded of Tony Pope’s cold fingers as he had dragged down her clothing that day in the woods above St Mary’s abbey.

  The tiny white cotton panties with their pricked little pattern were left in place, and the offending tights elongated as they were pulled from her feet while she sat there. The knickers were concealed beneath the folds of her shirt and the hem of the dark blue sweater. She had expected Jackie to continue until she had stripped her completely, but the older woman contented herself with tossing the removed items to one side and leaving Jill respectable from her thighs up.

  ‘It’s a wonder you haven’t got woolly drawers on, you little wimp,’ Jackie said scornfully. ‘So, I hope it’s all-nighters, my girl.’

  Jill nodded, smiled ingratiatingly at her. ‘I’m visiting my folks.’

  ‘Excellent. In that case stand by for a bit of healthy incest, sweetheart.’ Jackie sat down beside Jill. She was wearing a pair of black sports shorts and a loose T-shirt. Her legs and feet were bare, and rubbed companionably alongside Jill’s. Her hand fell with a proprietary little slap on Jill’s right thigh and stayed there, gripping it firmly.

  Then with startling suddenness she gripped and captured Jill’s wrists and pinned her arms up behind her head. She lay heavily on her, savouring the feel of the slim body trapped in the yielding sag of the cushions, the taut muscles and sinews struggling instinctively to escape. Jackie grinned, her nose inches from Jill’s. ‘How many muffs have you buried your little face in lately?’ she hissed. ‘And not only muffs! I know all you’ve been up to, sugar. All about your little day away with our friend Martin, and the night you and him spent afterwards, over in Westpool. Quite a cosy little shagging pit he’s got over there, hasn’t he?’ She felt the body go limp and the chest heaved. ‘I think you’d better say sorry, don’t you? Then take your punishment like the good little tart you are.’

  ‘Let me go,’ Jill complained futilely, and there was no real resistance when Jackie dragged her up, rolled her over across her bare knees and thrust up the shirt and sweater to the small of her back. Then she gave an exclamation of surprise as she hauled the tiny panties out of the crack of Jill’s bottom to rest them in a thin twist across the backs of her thighs. The fading marks of the spanking administered during the Victorian romp were still visible. ‘Ah, some bugger’s beaten me to it. What have you been up to, you kinky little mare?’

  No longer conscious of her undignified sprawl over her aggressor’s knee with her knickers down round her thighs, Jill poured out a brief account of the episode which had earned these fading battle scars. ‘So there you are,’ she concluded ruefully. ‘Tell Wills and Harris to keep tuned in for some more dirty pictures for their archives.’

  If she thought that her sad tale and overwrought state would help her evade the physical punishment about to be delivered, Jill was mistaken. However, the instrument of retribution was not the dreaded hairbrush but Jackie’s open palm, and though hard enough it was not wielded with anything like the venom with which her first disciplining had been administered. The hand rose and fell rapidly so that Jill squirmed ever more vigorously, and her feet sawed the air in helpless rhythm against the constraint of the knickers now banded round her knees. But the warm glow that spread over her clenching buttocks and the throbbing pain that spread with it also generated an insidious, completely different sensation low in her tummy and her sex, and made a new fusion of the pain and pleasure into an irresistible oneness.

  It was satisfied with shattering intensity timeless minutes later; Jill had no idea how many, or any awareness of time’s passing. It was all endless ecstasy, but the tears were still wet on her cheeks when, under the merciless assault of a very different nature, her body shook and arched and bucked in a seizure of consuming release. She was sprawled on the carpet now; legs spread wide, her heels drumming. The cotton knickers had gone, hauled down like a flag of surrender, and lay beside the settee in a crumpled ball. The blue sweater and white shirt were thrust up to bunch just below her heaving breasts; the rest of her pale frame exposed to Jackie’s wicked conquest. The hands, the seeking fingers, the lapping tongue, the kissing lips and nipping teeth, took complete possession of the blissfully yielded territory, and total victory was just a matter of time before Jill’s buttocks tightened and bounced, her sex mound buffeting the wet face buried between her thighs, her scream the final cry of capitulation and physical consummation.

  Later they heated up a ready meal and shared a bottle of wine. Jackie refused to allow Jill either to get dressed or to remove the clothing she was still wearing. ‘No, it gives me a chance to cool off a bit, though those lovely legs of yours keep the pulse rate up.’ They carried their plates through from the kitchen and relaxed in front of the glowing fire.

  It was after midnight, when she was lying naked, both of them sleepily exhausted, their bodies loosely together under the blankets and her head in the crook of Jackie’s arm, that she took the chance of the darkness and their post-coital intimacy to voice the thoughts that crowded disturbingly in on her. ‘Does it really bother you, me being involved in all of this? I mean the sex; me with Liz, doing all those things in front of a camera, and with those other two girls?’ She paused, and her voice was even more uncertain when she spoke again. ‘And... with Tony Pope?’

  The ease of the reply was hurtful to Jill’s sensitivity. ‘No, why should it? No point in me getting all steamed up about it. Not when it’s me who’s put you there. And anyway, you still belong to me, don’t you?’ Her hand moved, fell onto Jill’s tummy and slid down, and cupped her sex mound in eloquent illustration. It stayed there, possessive, not initiating any further arousal, just holding the soft flesh in territorial claim to it.

  ‘Yes, but...’ Jill’s soft murmur quavered and she felt her throat closing. ‘I’m shocked at myself at what I’m doing. I never thought I could... that I was like that. It cheapens me.’

  The answer was immediate and blunt. ‘That’s a load of balls, babe. Or shit, if you prefer. You know your trouble? I saw it the minute you walked through the door for the first time, at the nick. I’ve seen kids like you before - you’re too nice, you’ve been too well brought up, too sheltered. You’re getting to be a rare breed these days, believe me. Girls today are more liable to drop their knicks and moon a crowd of blokes in the middle of the High Street, or glass each other when they’re pissed out of their skulls in some bar. But not your kind. Middle class, brought up with a whole heap of inhibitions so that you blush every time you catch a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror and are racked with guilt every time you fiddle with your fanny. Right?’

  Jill squirmed involuntarily at the aptness of the frank observation. The earthy diatribe continued.

  ‘I mean, you’re twenty-two, yes? And never had a dick inside you? You tell that to most peop
le, to practically anybody, and they’d say no way. They’d call you a liar, straight up. But I didn’t. I believed you, sweety. So why should I get all uptight about it when to all intents and purposes I’m the one who put you there? Unless of course now you’ve tasted it, if you’ll pardon the expression, you’re madly in love with that tosser, Pope, and all you want to do is have his babies. And that’s not true, is it?’

  ‘No!’ Jill cried. ‘Of course not. But... but...’ she floundered, couldn’t hold the tears back, and all at once she turned, like a child, sought out and buried her face in Jackie’s warm breasts and clung to her desperately. ‘I don’t know what I want, or who I am any more. I feel as if I don’t know myself, or what I’m capable of. I can have sex... with Liz, with those other girls, and even with Tony - ’

  ‘Ah, so it’s Tony now, is it? All very cosy, are we?’ But Jackie’s mockery sounded perfectly good-humoured and she responded comfortingly to Jill’s desperate embrace. ‘So shagging with a bloke’s different, and now you know what it’s like, so no big deal. I can see it’s made no difference to the way you and me can get it off together.’ The hand between Jill’s thighs tightened its grip momentarily, but with no ulterior intent. ‘And I guess you’re not lying there wishing I had a great big dick you could play with.’ She chuckled over Jill’s squeal of protest. ‘Though even if you were, that could be arranged. Not that I’m a great fan of dildos, mind you. I don’t need a substitute for what I haven’t got, thank you very much, because I’m quite happy with what I have got. And I can see you are, too.’

  She moved, turned towards Jill, and slipped her left leg over the other’s hip, bringing her closer so that their breasts nestled together as she folded the younger girl tenderly into her. ‘All you’ve got to do is be a bit more sex-positive, babe. It’s something we’ve all got inside us, and it’s not something to be ashamed of or try to deny. A loving tongue and fingers in your cunt feel good, they make you come, and it’s wild. It’s not dirty and it’s not a sin. It’s natural. That’s the whole purpose and design of that little clit inside there.’ She grunted. ‘And OK,’ she conceded, ‘maybe a bloke’s cock can do the same thing for you now and then, and that’s no big deal, either. Let’s face it, Jilly, there isn’t only one tongue or one hand or even one cock that’s uniquely meant to bring you off and send you soaring into the wild blue yonder. There’s lots of them can do that, and good luck to them. And if you can find a little loving to go along with it, then that’s even better. But that’s inside here...’ Jackie’s hand moved to Jill’s brow, where a finger tapped lightly on her forehead.

  She leaned in close until their heads were touching, and searched for Jill’s lips, kissed her lightly. ‘I might raise blisters on your cute little arse now and then, but then maybe that’s just my way of showing my feelings. Got that?’

  Jill sighed. She had a sudden vision of Andrea Wise’s pneumatic backside bared and waiting to be transported under the fall of the hairbrush and tried to dispel it from her mind.

  ‘Now let’s get some sleep before I launch another dawn attack on that luscious little quim of yours. So, if it makes you feel better, tell me you love me and shut the fuck up, right?’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you what?’

  ‘I love you, Ma’am.’

  Jill fell asleep, cushioned in the warm, enfolding embrace.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Now I want you two to go off and enjoy yourselves. Don’t you worry about a thing; we’ll look after everything for you. WPC Wise here is a grand little girl. And besides, I’ll be on hand to make sure she behaves herself and that she leaves the place exactly as we found it, which is as clean as a new pin.’ DI Barlow beamed at Mr and Mrs Edwards, of 17 Gresham Street, and wished they would just get in the car that was waiting to whisk them away and go off to enjoy their all-expenses-paid, five-day break in the Lake District, courtesy of Benbrough Police Authority.

  Things were rapidly coming to the boil, as far as Operation Gresham was concerned, and Jackie had decided a close surveillance point a little more secure and less conspicuous than the series of vans which had been parked around the vicinity for the past ten weeks or so was essential at this stage. It would also serve as a bolthole in any sudden emergency, which might well arise as the long campaign drew to its close.

  Jackie had hoped for more time, in order to make the net drawn around Jack Palmer more foolproof. She had reason of old to know what a slippery customer he could be. She had even been prepared to sacrifice the two tarts who had been brought in from abroad, Karyn and Odette, in spite of Jill getting her panties more and more tightly knotted over their impending fate. After all, it would not be impossible to keep tabs on them wherever they were shifted, provided it was within the UK, and in any case they probably had enough evidence already to nail Palmer with involvement in trafficking, no matter which shady dive or knocking shop they were transferred to. But all at once Razor Sharp had dug her Chief Superintendent heels in, this time irremovably. ‘I want the case wrapped up now, with what we’ve got. We’ll bring in the Regional Crime Squad, Fraud or Vice, if necessary. They can pull the rest together. It’s dragged on far too long and cost a fucking fortune.’

  And to Jackie’s dismay she had proved adamant.

  ‘No, that’s it, Inspector! I want him collared within the week!’

  At first Jackie had been convinced that it must have been her own Jilly who had betrayed her, and somehow gone wimping behind her back to the Super. So Jill’s next visit to ‘mummy and daddy’ had begun stormily, to say the least. The new DC had begun spouting almost the instant she was safely behind the locked doors of the flat. ‘We’ve got to do something. Karyn and Odette are going to be moved any day now. They’re just waiting for the word, and Karyn’s almost hysterical. She doesn’t know what they’re going to do with her. She knows that other girls from Europe have just disappeared altogether. We can’t let it happen. I’ll have to let her know who I am, get her out of there - ’

  ‘Whoa there, Constable!’ Jackie cut in. ‘Just get a grip for a minute, eh? Last time I looked in the book DC’s didn’t go round telling their DI’s what they should do. I know you’re one of the whiz kids, but have I missed something here? Has there been a change in the chain of command somewhere?’ Jackie’s eyes narrowed and she gave Jill a look which would have been enough on its own to stop her in her tracks, however fast. ‘Or have you already decided to cut out the middleman and gone straight to the top? You haven’t been spilling your timid little guts to our Moira, have you?’

  The blush that invaded Jill’s agitated features owed its origin simply to the force of Jackie’s scathing assault, but to the older woman, her instincts well trained to interpret the deviousness of those who economised on truth, or as the DI more succinctly put it, were ‘lying toe-rags’, the flood of colour indicated guilt at being caught out. And before Jill had time to deny the unjust accusation she found herself picked up, shaken like a rabbit in a terrier’s grip, then slammed face down in the smothering cushions of the settee with her left hand held excruciatingly in the centre of her shoulder blades.

  Thus, even if she had wished to counter the charges against her, instead of the simple scream of pain and alarm she attempted, her position, pinned with her face and torso driven into the cushions and her raised hindquarters writhing in the air, prevented her from doing so. But worse, if not unexpected, was to follow. In vivid recall of what had taken place during the opening preliminaries of the last secret rendezvous in the flat, Jill had made a determined effort to avoid giving similar offence. So, in spite of the October chill, she had chosen to wear a cotton skirt of pretty but unsuitable lightness, in a swirling summery pattern, beneath which lay not the seasonal tights, but one of her latest proud acquisitions: a pair of satin and lace under-shorts, with cute little suspender ribbons holding in place, beneath a narrow but exquisite portion of bare thigh, scallo
p-edged stockings, dark but of a texture as finely spun as the lightest spider’s web.

  The spectacle did give Jackie an instant’s pause for an instinctive reaction of sheer visual delight, but Jill, face buried in the cushions and behind already tensing in anticipation of the spanking to come, knew nothing of this. She was aware only of the hand which pushed the skirt high up over her waist, and then the clawing fingers which hooked viciously into the elastic of the dainty undergarment before hauling it down off the clenching cheeks. The fragile vision of splendid eroticism these intimate items conveyed was destroyed at once into a little twist of silk and lace tangled just below the cute lower creases of Jill’s bottom. The hand rose and fell, connecting in loud smacks with the quivering flesh, while the shapely limbs threshed and Jill howled and her bum grew rapidly rosier. Only when the hand paused was the sobbing girl able to clear her streaming face of the upholstery and gasp out a tortured denial.

  ‘I duh-didn’t... it wuh-wasn’t... I’ve nuh-never seen Superintendent Sharp suh-since...’

  Their tryst ended the following morning in much happier circumstances for both of them. Jackie was in a benign, loving mood, having received through the long night ample proof of both her total domination in the unequal partnership and Jill’s absolute acceptance of it. The only cloud on Jackie’s horizon, and it had lost a great deal of its sun blocking threat, was Moira Sharp’s unusually firm insistence on bringing Palmer to book with a haste that might turn out to be regrettable. Not that Jack Palmer would escape her clutches completely, short of fleeing to the Amazon basin, but she wanted to render him completely and permanently impotent. Not just a snip, but total castration.

  It had been Jackie’s idea to send the Edwards off on a brief holiday at the force’s expense, after what Jill had told her of the imminence of the blonde foreigner’s forced departure. Jill could whisk Karyn and the other one away at a minute’s notice, and have them safely hidden in less than another minute behind the door of Number Seventeen. And the rest of the squad were coordinated, Jackie hoped, to act like the well-trained cogs they were when the shit hit the fan.