by Sean O'Kane
“Christ! She’s tight, but once you’re in she’s really comfortable!” he told his companions.
“Have one of your men come round and test the arena chip each week, doctor. Now, what precisely is it you need to fund the next stage?”
Once the limo had glided its way for several miles on country roads away from the laboratory, Clive had Humphries pull over by a small stand of trees. He couldn’t stand it any more.
In the wide footwell of the limo the two newly acquired slaves were still entwined, every bit as passionately as they had been when they had been carried out from the lab and dumped there. Their own libidos now imprisoned them more effectively than any restraints, they simply couldn’t get enough of each other, or, Clive suspected, anyone who could bring them off. Of course the Irish girl had been a tough nut to crack but with these two the chip had been kicking open even further a door that the arenas had already opened pretty well fully in any case. The result was two single minded sex addicts. They had instantly formed a sixty-nine and even as the limo pulled over, Kath’s bottom was waving temptingly in the air as she ground herself down onto her lover’s mouth. Every now and then she would raise her head and howl her way to another climax, spurting more juice from her cunt than Clive had ever seen any woman do. Then she would instantly bury her head between the dark, satin smooth thighs and begin again. Even the car pulling to a halt didn’t stop them.
Humphries turned in his seat.”I’ll get some rope from the boot, Sir,” he said.
About ten minutes later, the two girls were fastened loosely to branches over their heads, their arms raised and their wrists fastened together. Neither had made any move to resist. It had needed a bit of a hike across two fields before Clive felt able to relax though. Society had come a long way along the road he had wanted it to travel but the Prime Minister wouldn’t be pleased to see his Home Secretary plastered all across the Red Tops’ front pages, with his cock buried up to the hilt in a naked slavegirl’s mouth.
But now he felt able to unship the whip he had carried under his jacket and begin to use it on Kath. It was a heavy, long tailed, leather flogger. The tails were square cut and quite stiff, so it left well-defined marks with relatively few lashes. He wasted no time in using it at full strength on this occasion, as Humphries did beside him. With an ex-arena slave there was no point in any warming up. They were trained to take everything full on. Kath craned her head around to watch him to begin with, just flinching slightly as the lashes bit in across her back and shoulders. Her eyes were bright with excitement as she watched him whip her. Gone was any trace of fear – and Clive did rather regret that, he enjoyed watching a submissive move from fear to anticipation to excitement and finally orgasm. But missing that pleasure was a small price to pay for what the future held. Kath was now a hopeless pain slut and there was pleasure to be found in the certain knowledge that with all her heart she wanted him to do whatever he wanted with her. He wanted to whip her soundly, to make her spin at the end of her rope, flinch and try to dodge the lashes then succumb helplessly to orgasm before he fucked her.
Her body was every bit as satisfying as he had remembered it. Her waist was still trim, her buttocks still deep and riding proud at the top of smooth skinned thighs, and as she spun and cried out under the relentless lashing he was treating her to, her breasts were just as soft and the nipples still as helplessly erect as he recalled. He didn’t fling down the whip, drop his trousers and pants until he was panting from the exertion of beating her and she had come still more times. But the pleasure of holding her warm and softly compliant body against him as he thrust up into her flooding sheath was even more exquisite than he recalled. She used her pelvis expertly to writhe on him as he reached around to squeeze and claw her breasts. She pressed her welted buttocks hard back against him and rotated her hips, grunting with the effort of pleasing him and holding back her own orgasm.
Beside him Humphries had followed suit but had entered the black girl from in front and now her legs were clasped around his hips, her hands taking her weight as she hung from her rope. But even so she was doing all the work, rocking her pelvis and as he told Clive, squeezing him with her pelvic floor muscles like a constricting snake, even as he gripped her nipples and twisted them until she put her head back and roared in unison with him as he came.
Back in the car, it seemed as if another good dose of whip and cock had finally calmed the girls down and they lay quietly licking each other clean of the men’s emissions while Clive rested his feet on Sharon’s buttocks and read his ministerial papers. All in all it had been a productive morning. He thumbed the keypad set into the central armrest and his personal secretary answered the phone from his home in Surrey.
“Melissa, I want you to use the Antiguan company and buy as many shares in Theraputics as you can get your hands on, I’ll explain when I get there,” he said as the limo took off once more. “And get the stables cleaned out will you. I’ve got two new residents.”
Chapter Four
The last day of Anna’s life started well enough. She stumbled out of a guy’s bed, he had flown in from Schipol two days ago, said he was a friend of Alice’s. She could see he was packing so she had let him stay and he had proved his worth on both subsequent nights. The previous day the whole house had taken three of Mr Cutts’ finest hampers and gone into the hills for a picnic. Inevitably it had turned into a fuckfest but somehow everyone had got back and she had fallen into Arturo’s bed, then they had fucked repeatedly during the night, and now she felt that a shower, a swim and breakfast and she might make it through the day. Pretty well par for the course.
But she knew it really was time to get back to work, all the partying would be playing hell with her complexion and figure and there was a fashion show she had been hired for in Florence in a couple of weeks’ time. Then her company was putting on a major conference cum jamboree for a financial services company in Sussex the week after...it was time.
She finished her swim and lazed by the pool as the rest of the guests slowly emerged and she took a sadistic delight in adding to their hangovers by telling them that they would have to move on as she was going back to the UK in a day or so’s time. But by lunch most spirits had recovered and when Mr Cutts arrived with lunch for the guests, the housemaids and the bill for Anna, the mood was light again. Wine bottles were being opened in the dining room and laughter filled the house as Anna activated her virtual card, having given the invoices a cursory glance, and handed it over. Someone called her in for lunch and she half turned.
“With you in a second, Justin!” she called and turned back to retrieve her phone but found Mr Cutts staring at his terminal in puzzlement.
“I’m sorry Miss Chatham,” he said. “It’s been declined.”
Anna wasn’t unduly concerned, the sets could occasionally be temperamental. She suggested they do it again. It came back declined.
“Look, I’ll call the office and get them to chase up the service provider, then I’ll drop in at your shop and pay either later today or tomorrow. Okay?”
Mr Cutts beamed in relief and left as Anna shook her hair back, dialled her office and strolled over to the huge picture window that shared the same view over the bay that the pool had. She noted that grey rain clouds seemed to be massing beyond the mountains and the sun wasn’t as strong as it usually was. But then her attention snapped back to business as she heard the phone picked up and Petra’s voice answer.
“Hi, babe,” Anna began.
“Anna! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you for three days. I was going to get on a flight tomorrow but then the account was frozen and the cards were stopped! Oh, God! I’ve been at my wits’ end!”
Anna felt the blood drain out of her face. “What the hell are you talking about, Petra? What the fuck’s going on?” She had been barring all calls quite deliberately.
“It’s Utilities Inc! You know we hired them to provide the lights and the fountain and all that stuff for the ball
at Lord Aylesham’s...”
“Yes, yes! I know! What about them?”
“Their invoice was due last week and they’ve gone ape-shit! They’re winding us up, Anna!”
“But they can’t! It’s only a few days overdue! We always pay a few weeks late. And anyway there’s plenty of money to pay their bill!”
“That’s the trouble! There isn’t! Everyone who was due to put down a deposit for events upcoming until the end of the year withdrew just after I’d done the payroll – like it was some kind of conspiracy! So now our account’s empty and frozen anyway and the cards are stopped and I don’t know what to do and I couldn’t get through to you to warn you! And now this morning some guy from the tax people’s been trying to get through.”
“Alright, take it easy! I’ve got my own cards, I’ll get sorted here and get straight back. Till then I’ll keep the phone on and you refer all calls to me!”
Petra was snivelling with relief as Anna broke the call. Heavy rain was moving across the bay and the mountains had disappeared into the mist. She tried to get her thoughts in order but it was the end of the conversation that she couldn’t get out of her mind. Her accountant had warned her about how she had accounted for her foreign earnings and if Petra was right and someone had got the knife into her, a tax investigation could be seriously bad news. She had to get home.
She strode though the dining room ignoring the invitations to sit down and enjoy the food, heading straight for her bedroom. There was one thing she just had to establish. She slammed the door behind her, her guests’ laughter suddenly grating on her ears and made straight for her bedside table, wrenched open the drawer and threw out everything till she found her air ticket. Of course, good old Petra would always book her a return.
That meant it didn’t matter whether her personal cards still worked or not. She could get home and take things from there – wire back money for anyone on the island she owed. Surely her own account hadn’t been frozen – there was always money in there. She could have checked on the net but she just had a bad feeling that she needed to be back in London to deal with this – and with a return ticket already paid for, that was the way to go.
It took her guests most of the afternoon to make arrangements to move on or just get a ticket back home, with Anna shooing them on and harrying them. She ignored their injured pleas and tersely informed them that something had come up and she had to get back pronto. By tea time the place was deserted and she had found enough cash to pay for a cab to the airport. By six o’clock she was striding across the marble floor of the terminal, her ticket in her hand and she was already deciding which lawyer she was going to hire. She thought the one who had got that wretched tabloid not to print a photo of her emerging from a club in Monaco with some minor Prince or other. Her skirt was badly rucked up and as she stepped into the waiting cab, it was very obvious that she was going commando. She hadn’t arrived like that, the Prince in question had her knickers in his pocket, having taken them off her very publicly in the club. It had seemed like fun – at the time.
She was just approaching the check-in desk and was about to slap her papers down when her elbow was gently but firmly held.
“Miss Anna Chatham?” a voice enquired.
She turned and found herself looking up into the far-from-friendly face of a policeman.
“Yes?”
“Come with me please.”
“I’m just getting on a plane, I really don’t want to miss it!”
“You have an open ended ticket Miss Chatham, we checked. If we can sort out a few small issues, we’ll bring you back here as soon as we can. Now come with me please.”
Anna looked around wildly, already some people had stopped and were watching. She couldn’t afford a scene! If she were recognised it would take just one phone call or a tweet and she would be all over the net being dragged off by the police. She tried to keep a completely neutral face as she followed the man to the police car parked outside and it took her back into town and to the island’s only police station.
She was ushered into an office and behind a desk sat a handsome man in a neat white shirt which had a lot of pips at the shoulders. He rose to greet her but his smile was a quick one and he was straight down to business as she took her seat and tugged down the short denim skirt she had practically thrown on at some point in the day. The man’s eyes followed her hands as they pulled the hem a paltry few inches down the long, tanned thighs.
“I’m Chief Inspector Frazer,” he told her. “I’m afraid that a local trader has reported that you owe him a substantial amount of money and he was concerned that you might attempt to leave the island before the matter was settled. With good cause as it turned out.”
“Look, Inspector,” Anna began, trying to smile at him and bat her eye lashes. She sat back and crossed her legs, allowing the skirt to ride up again – and then some more. She despised having to resort to such tactics but she was becoming seriously alarmed. “I’m Anna Chatham...”
“I know who you are, Miss,” the inspector interrupted her.”But let me tell you this. We on the island tolerate you and people like you coming here and buying all the best property and lording it about over us – just so long as you pay us. We aren’t all just about sun and fun.”
He stopped talking and cocked his head to one side as the flimsy wall of the office was rattled by something heavy hitting it. Anna heard what sounded like a man grunting in pain and then there was a series of fleshy thuds.
“We have a lot of drug trafficking going on, you know,” the chief inspector told her. “I think that’s one of the smugglers who will be helping us with our enquiries....quite soon I think.” He sat back. “Now what are we going to do with you Miss Chatham?” There was another thump and grunt from the next door office.
Anna sat up and tugged the skirt back down. Suddenly the flirtatious approach didn’t seem like a good idea.
“Look, I’ve got other cards. I’m sure I can sort something out. I was only going home to do it from there, I was going to wire money back. Honestly!”
“Good, I’ll have your laptop brought in and we’ll both see what we can sort out.”
Two hours later, Anna knew she was in deep trouble. Something catastrophic had occurred. No one would talk to her at her bank. None of her cards would work, she couldn’t get through to anyone at the card issuers. The only account that might be safe was the one she kept her godfather’s allowance in but that account didn’t have a card, deliberately so. It was strictly for rainy days. But now she was on the other side of the world and it was pouring down and she couldn’t access it, because it seemed as though some word had gone out that she was not to be talked to. She was just left hanging on until the line finally went dead.
They had locked her in a cell when she had finally admitted defeat and left her alone until later in the evening. She had ample time to recall her father’s advice about never playing silly buggers with the taxman and her mother’s about being frugal. For the first time since they had both died, she missed them. They had never been a close knit family and there had always been the mysterious godfather who had given her an allowance for years until she was coining it as a model and whose money she had kept locked away and now couldn’t reach. She had always wanted to meet him but the slightest mention of him had always seemed to enrage her father and upset her mother. It had been a good, solid upbringing though. Her father had always been well off, although in later years looking back, Anna could never quite see how he had lived as well as he did on what couldn’t have been a huge salary. However, she had grown up tall and beautiful – and wayward. At nineteen she had left home and had not had much contact with her parents before they both died, her mother soon after her father.
But one thing her father had always said was that she was a fighter. Even when he was most critical of her wild lifestyle, he always had to concede that she would fight her corner. Anna sat up, ran her fingers through her hair and physically shook herself. She was in a co
rner now and she had to fight her way out. There had to be a way and she was going to find it.
The cell they had put her in was really a three sided cage with its back against one wall of a cream and green painted room with a scratched and scruffy desk in the middle of it and various filing cabinets against the walls.
She had no sooner stood up than a woman entered the room. She was a tall well built woman, plainly an islander and wearing a crisp white shirt like the chief inspector, a tie and a tight black skirt that finished a couple of inches above the knee. She was well built but shapely, with a spectacular swell to her shirt over her breasts and her thighs were powerful but smooth and long.
Anna was five feet ten inches in her stockinged feet and this woman was pretty well eye to eye with her. She sauntered easily towards her.
“Well now, hun. The chief inspector has put you in my custody for the moment while we decide what we’re going to do with you. My name is Constable Mercy Fallon.” She smiled. “You ask for the mercy of God and you get me!” She threw back her head and laughed.
Anna didn’t know how to react, she couldn’t tell if the woman was hostile or a potential source of help so she grinned back and appraised the constable as she came close to the bars of her cell. Her practised eye took in the woman’s figure and she realised that under the shirt she was wearing a corset. She had no time to wonder about the appropriateness of that before the woman was standing right in front of her and regarding her seriously with large, brown eyes. Then behind her the door opened again and a girl came in. Suddenly Anna began to get another bad feeling, the day was full of them. The girl had been one of Mr Cutts’ cleaners and housemaids.
