‘You know about Malcolm, don’t you?’ Faye barked. ‘You know about him and the insurance claim, and I suspect you’ve been talking with Sky.’ She glared furiously at Sam, the passionate glower in her eyes demanding some sort of response. ‘What were the Knight brothers saying?’ Faye growled.
Panic was taking over and Sam did not have a clue as to what the woman was talking about. An inner calm had visited her as she sat beneath the doorman’s lascivious gaze, allowing her time to think about the complexities of the case, but that calm seemed to have disappeared with Faye’s arrival. She wanted to declare her ignorance but a poignant knife blade of terror held her silent. She suspected that any comment that was not a straight answer would merit another punishing blow. When Sam did find the courage to open her mouth, the first sound that came out was a gasp of pain as she tried to move her aching jaw.
‘Start talking to me,’ Faye hissed sharply. She lifted one stiletto-heeled shoe from the floor and stamped her foot on to the seat of the chair. The heel pushed firmly into the chair between Sam’s legs. The tip of her shoe fell against the front panel of Sam’s short skirt and the pressure of the pointed toe rested heavily over the lips of her sex.
Nervously, Sam glanced up at Faye, aware of how precarious her situation had become. She had just learnt more about this case than she could have hoped and now she was in danger of getting a beating for it. She supposed the price might have been worth paying, but the thing she had learnt did not seem to fit together. Her thoughts were a whirlwind that raged ceaselessly. As she tried to think of a way to placate Faye, she was also trying to work out how this new information fitted in with the other things she had learnt over the past few days.
‘What do you know?’ Faye demanded.
Her hand moved forward and for an instant Sam thought she was going to be struck again. It was only second nature to back away from the domineering woman, but in the confines of the padded chair she quickly realised there was nowhere to back away to. She wanted to say that she knew nothing. Even with the things that Faye had just told her, she still felt absolutely clueless about what was happening. But she doubted Faye would believe such a claim.
Instead of striking Sam, Faye’s fingers reached for her bared breast and stroked one nipple. She was still scowling with the same menacing glint in her eye, but now her expression seemed tinged with something dark and unreadable. Her smile, cruel and threatening before, now seemed more malevolent.
Sam swallowed. Her nipple hardened beneath Faye’s touch and she tried convincing herself that it was purely an automatic reaction. She wanted to believe she wasn’t feeling aroused. Her days of getting pleasure from being submissive were a thing of the past, she told herself. Glaring defiantly up at Faye, she attempted to slap the woman’s hand away.
Faye was fast. With her free hand, she caught Sam’s wrist and pushed it back. The fingers at Sam’s nipple squeezed hard against the nub. There was no mercy or tenderness in her touch. When Faye pushed the wrist back, it was done to hurt. When she squeezed the nipple, the pressure was calculated to inflict as much pain as possible.
Sam gasped. A flare of pain erupted from her wrist and a piercing bolt of pleasure exploded in her breast. At the same time she could feel the toe of Faye’s shoe pressing hard against her cleft. She glanced down and saw that Faye had managed to slide the tip of the stiletto beneath the hem of her skirt. Although she could not see it, she could feel the shoe pressing against the pouting lips of her sex. Faye’s penetrating her seemed more than possible and Sam was chilled by the unspoken threat.
She stared into the uncompromising face that hovered above her and wished she knew what to do. She tried to think what Jo would do if she was in this situation, then stopped herself. Jo would never have been stupid enough to get into such a position, Sam thought. This sort of mistake was so typically Samantha Flowers that she believed she could have applied for a patent.
It was difficult to concentrate on most of these thoughts. There was something cloying about the fear that Faye evoked. There was also the warmth of her own arousal, hampering the clear head she so desperately longed to attain. The toe of the shoe against her sex was touching her with a lover’s intimacy. She could not deny she was scared by Faye’s domineering manner, but there was also the frisson of excitement that the woman inspired. Faye was touching her body in ways that Sam could only think of as intimate and personal. The feelings Faye stirred quickened the eager pulse in Sam’s cleft.
Sam drew a frightened breath and beseeched Faye with a silent plea. She did not expect any response to her helpless expression, but it was the penultimate line of defence in her armoury. When she realised it was doing no good, she knew it was time to play her last card. Frowning miserably, she allowed a single tear to roll down her cheek.
Faye studied her, the menace in her expression intensifying. She still held Sam’s nipple between merciless fingers, while her other hand pinned Sam’s wrist uncomfortably back into the chair. Faye shook her head from side to side, twisting Sam’s nipple as she glowered down. ‘You don’t know a fucking thing, do you?’ Faye growled.
Sam struggled to suppress a miserable sob. It was one thing to be humiliated and punished like this, she thought. It was worse to have that happen while someone pointed out your inadequacies. Shaking her head in agreement, she sniffed back another tear and stared miserably down.
Faye moved her hand from Sam’s wrist to her chin and titled her hand upward. She was smiling, but Sam still regarded the expression warily. ‘You know nothing about this case,’ Faye said pointedly. ‘Yet you’ve come here, fucked over one of my business deals, lost me my solicitors and screwed up an insurance claim I was working on.’ She shook her head, smiling with bemused wonder at the depths of Sam’s incompetence. ‘You’re a walking fucking disaster.’
Unhappily, Sam tried to look down. She had wanted to use the tears as a device to extricate herself from this situation but now, as Faye pointed out her ineptitude with clinical accuracy, Sam found that the tears were caused by a genuine wave of misery. They brimmed heavily on the lower lids of her eyes and she no longer wanted this overbearing woman to watch her cry. It had been uncomfortable when she began and at that point she had been faking.
Faye did not allow her the privilege of lowering her face. She kept her fingers beneath Sam’s chin, pushing upward so that they were forced to stare at one another.
‘You’re going to prove yourself good at something before this day’s out,’ Faye growled. ‘One way or another, you’re going to prove yourself good at something.’ The tip of her toe pushed forcefully against Sam’s sex, as though she was pressing home her point.
Sam gasped, shocked by the suggestion. She could feel that her nipple was no longer being squeezed. Instead, Faye was caressing the tip with an intimacy that was disturbingly gentle. With mounting disquiet, Sam watched as Faye moved her fingers away from her chin to the tip of her other breast. She caught a startled breath when the woman’s fingertips brushed the swell of her nipple. An electric shock of pleasure erupted in the erectile tissue and an unexpected bolt of delight coursed from the spot where Faye had touched. Breathless and startled, Sam stared wistfully up at the woman, aware that her cheeks and forehead were glowing dully with the sudden warmth of her blushes.
‘I though you’d be the sort who liked this kind of thing,’ Faye remarked calmly. ‘I figured you were on with your business partner. But I could see you had a need for this sort of game too.’ Her cruel smile tightened as she pressed her fingernails cruelly into the soft, pliant flesh of Sam’s nipples.
Sam gasped. She was shocked and hurt by the contrast of pain with the pleasure she had been enjoying. She glared into Faye’s unimpassioned features and tried to think of something she could say to make the woman forget her thoughts of punishment.
‘I said I’d find a use for you before this evening’s over,’ Faye said, releasing her hands from Sam’s breasts. ‘And I think I’ve just thought of one.’
&n
bsp; As Sam watched, Faye stroked the palm of her hand over the swell of her own breast. The sensation through the thick gabardine fabric of her jacket was obviously pleasing, Sam guessed, because Faye sighed contentedly. Her other hand rubbed against her hip, the fingers easing purposefully towards the crease at the top of the legs. Half-expecting the woman to start playing with herself, Sam held her breath and tried not to stare.
Faye took a step back from the chair, moving her toe downward and pressing hard against Sam’s sex before taking the foot away. She glided gracefully to one of the shelves and reached into a plastic tray.
Sam frowned, not knowing what to expect. She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand and blinked miserably through her glasses. She was surprised to see the woman remove a bulky stage microphone from the tray, and for an instant she wondered if Faye had given up on the idea of punishing her. The hope only lasted for a moment, quickly replaced by a realisation of what the woman intended.
If Jo had been there, Sam knew she would have been asking Faye if they were going to do some karaoke, or have a private singalong. The thought was meant to be cheering, but it only served to remind Sam that Jo was not there and she was having to endure this on her own. Considering the cruel smile on Faye’s lips, Sam could see that her punishment was about to begin and she shivered uneasily.
Faye shrugged the jacket from her shoulders and then unfastened the zip at the side of her skirt. Stepping out of the garment as it pooled at her ankles, Faye tugged the long length of electrical flex that trailed from the base of the microphone and moved closer to Sam. She was still wearing her blouse, the long hem discreetly covering the tops of her legs, but as she bore down she began to unfasten the buttons at the neck.
‘You’d better not hurt me,’ Sam said quietly. ‘I won’t tolerate that and my partner won’t tolerate it either.’
Faye shook her head. ‘That doesn’t really intimidate me,’ she replied. She held the microphone in one hand and the long length of black flex in the other. With an almost casual flick of her wrist, she brought the end of the cable spinning through the air in a broad arc. Sam was startled to feel the end of the cable strike her leg. The gold-tipped jack-plug cut a line across one of Sam’s black stockings, splitting the sheer denier to reveal a raised red line beneath.
Sam drew a shocked breath and stared at Faye with renewed respect. Thoughts of trying to intimidate or bluff her were now gone from Sam’s mind. She could see that Faye was not the sort of woman who delivered idle threats. The danger of the situation impressed itself upon her. Trying to squeeze herself back into the chair, away from Faye, Sam stammered the beginning of an apology.
Faye was not listening. Still grinning, she brought the end of the microphone cable down hard again. This time it cut higher on Sam’s leg. The sharp tip of the jack-plug bit into the flesh above the top of Sam’s garter.
Wincing with the sudden explosion of pain, Sam snatched her leg into the chair and tried to caress the grazed lines of flesh that Faye had just caused. She realised that by sitting in such a position she was openly displaying herself to the woman. The knowledge that she was exhibiting the lips of her exposed sex did not seem as important as stopping Faye from hitting her leg again.
‘You’ve pissed off the wrong person,’ Faye said. Her voice was like acid. With a casual hand, she slapped Sam’s legs down, so that they hung beneath the chair. ‘Your one chance to redeem yourself is by doing exactly as I say.’
Sam dared to pluck up the last of her courage and glowered defiantly back at the woman. ‘And if I don’t do exactly as you say?’ she demanded.
Faye shook her head and smiled with infuriating arrogance. ‘You don’t have a choice.’
Before Sam could stop her, Faye had wrapped the cord of the microphone round one wrist and fastened her to the chair. Sam started to say something but her protests were silenced by a back-handed blow to her mouth. It was as close as Faye came to acknowledging her struggles, and it ended them abruptly.
In the stunned silence that followed, Faye fastened Sam’s other arm to the chair. With a well-practised flick of her wrist, she tied the remainder of the cord round Sam’s ankles, securing her feet to the centre pole of the swivel chair.
‘You won’t get away with this,’ Sam whispered, wishing she felt as defiant as she sounded. She could taste blood on her lower lip and her tongue detected lingering pain beneath the swelling where she had been struck. More frightening than either of these sensations, she could feel the inner muscles of her pussy throbbing with eager anticipation.
Faye laughed sardonically. ‘Stay quiet or I’ll slap you again. You no longer have a say in things.’ Kneeling down in front of Sam, she traced one long, manicured fingernail against the sensitive flesh of Sam’s breast. ‘Right now, I can do whatever the hell I please,’ Faye explained. With a cruel smile, she added, ‘And I intend to do just that.’ She hooked the tip of one finger into the waistband of Sam’s skirt.
Sam tried to recoil from her touch. She was excited by the intimacy of Faye’s intrusive finger but there was something menacing in the woman’s smile that left her chilled at the same time. The fact that she was tied to a chair and at the woman’s mercy would have been enough to frighten her. The evil glint in Faye’s eye left her cold and fearful. ‘What are you going to do to me?’ Sam demanded, swallowing a nervous lump in her throat. Her heart was beating so fast she could feel the pulse pounding in her temples.
With a sudden lunge, Faye tore Sam’s skirt open. She glared at her bare sex with an angry frown that quickly faded into a wicked smile. Faye growled, ‘I issue my lap dancers with G-strings and you’re not wearing one.’
Sam tried to think of an appropriate response but nervousness held her tongue. She studied Faye through a miserable veil of tears, loving and loathing the intimidation.
Faye stroked the tip of her finger against Sam’s hole. One nail trailed softly against the pink folds. Sam could feel herself responding to the caress and wished her body was not so easy to arouse. The heated pulse between her legs quickened and she could feel an anticipatory dryness in her throat. The tips of her nipples burnt with a tingling pain that demanded they be caressed. Her entire body was quickly becoming more and more responsive. Faye continued to draw her finger along the gentle pout of Sam’s pussy lips. The subtle friction was lubricated by the warm wetness of Sam’s arousal.
As much as she hated herself for responding to the woman in such a way, Sam could not deny her rising excitement. She glared truculently into her captor’s face, hating her and wanting her in the same moment.
Faye returned the expression blithely, continuing to stroke at Sam’s intimate flesh. ‘If you had been wearing knickers I could have gagged you with them,’ she explained. ‘Not that anyone will be able to hear you in here,’ she added quickly, ‘but just for my own peace of mind.’
Sam felt her heart beat faster. She wished that her fear and arousal had been separate emotions. If that had been the case, she knew she would have been able to cope with at least one of them. As it was, she could not decide if the threat of being gagged had caused terror or excitement. Her desperate need for release was no longer confined to the desire to be free from the chair. She was overwhelmed by the urgent longing to give her body the fulfilment it so desperately craved. The pulse between her legs beat with a frenzied desire that craved the release of satisfaction.
A thought occurred to Sam and she tried to dismiss it. The sensation of Faye’s finger sliding against the dewy folds of her pussy lips was disturbingly good. She could feel herself creeping closer to the brink of an orgasm and her body had already warned her that the release would be monumental. The thought that had occurred to her threatened to destroy the pleasure of release and she cursed it for being so intrusive.
Faye eased the tip of her finger inside the velvety warmth of Sam’s sex.
Simultaneously, both women drew startled gasps of pleasure. They studied one another with mixed expressions of excitem
ent and longing. Sam could see the shine in Faye’s pale blue eyes and knew the woman was as passionately aroused as she was.
With her other hand, Faye reached up and stroked the heel of her palm against one of Sam’s breasts. The dry flesh rubbed smoothly over the hard nub. Sam groaned, wishing she had the time to enjoy all of the woman’s beautiful, rude caresses.
‘Untie me,’ Sam whispered reluctantly.
Faye shook her head. She teased the end of her finger against the pulsing pearl of Sam’s clitoris. The gentle pressure inspired a shriek of elation from Sam. She pushed herself back into the chair as far as her bindings would allow, then shook her head in joyous refusal of the pleasure her body was suffering.
‘Too much,’ Sam whispered happily. Her fear had suddenly dissipated as she realised she had the upper hand. She vowed to point this fact out to Faye as soon as she had made the woman release her. ‘Please. Stop and untie me.’
Pushing her finger gently in and out of Sam’s eager cleft, Faye shook her head in slow but firm refusal. A second finger joined the first and within a moment she was sliding them both into the tight confines of Sam’s slick wet hole.
‘This is your last chance,’ Sam urged her. She could fell her pussy lips being excited by the gentle stretching pressure of having to accommodate two squirming fingers. The sensation was debilitating and the breath was being torn from her lungs in excited pants. ‘Untie me now and I promise not to lose my temper,’ Sam insisted.
Faye smiled softly and eased a third finger alongside the first two.
Sam pushed herself far back into the chair. She had been tied in such a way that it hurt her ankles to make any physical movement. Actually bucking her hips back and forth against the woman’s probing fingers was a bitter agony for her ankles, but she did it just the same. The fingers slid roughly into the warm wetness of her sex, pushing her to the brink of a cataclysmic orgasm. She knew that it would only take a few more thrusts and she would be beyond the point of no return. The anticipation of that release was so strong tat Sam could almost taste the triumphant satisfaction.
The Black Widow Page 17
