Forbidden
Reading
Lisette Ashton
Rover Books
New york
www.RoverBooks.com
This book is a work of fiction.
In real life, make sure you practice safe sex.
This book is made available in electronic form by permission of VirginBooks by RoverBooks.
www.RoverBooks.com
First published in 2006 by
Nexus
Thames Wharf Studios
Rainville Road
London W6 9HA
Copyright © Lisette Ashton 2006
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-10: 0-7952-0337-3
ISBN-13: 978-0-7952-0337-4
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The author and publisher specifically disclaim any responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk, personal or otherwise, which is incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly, of the use and application of any of the contents of this book.
Contents
Before the Journey
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
After the Journey
Before the Journey
‘You’re a dirty little bitch, aren’t you?’
Justine held herself still when she heard the voice.
The vault was underground, designed without windows and lightless save for those few stray rays that filtered from the floors above. It was always a challenge to find the light switch and, as her fingertips scoured against the aged wood panelling, she began to believe that this time her hand wouldn’t fall on the vital plastic button. Her heart raced, the inside of her mouth turned bone dry, and she struggled not to panic at the thought of being trapped in the unlit room with a menacing stranger.
‘You’re a dirty little bitch, aren’t you? You’re a dirty little bitch who needs a damned good thrashing. Is that why you’ve come down here? Have you come down here to have your backside thrashed?’
Justine didn’t know who had spoken – she couldn’t decide if it was a male or female voice – but she understood every syllable of the filthy suggestions. Fighting to appear brave, not wanting to be intimidated by the intangible combination of darkness, rude words and her own apprehension, she drew a deep breath and squinted into the shadows. ‘Who is that? What are you doing in here? Don’t you know this is Mrs Weiss’s personal vault? Only authorised personnel are permitted in here.’
‘Take off your blouse, Justine,’ the voice whispered slyly. ‘Let me see your breasts.’
She considered running then shunned the idea. The timer switch for the hall had already blinked off and everything behind her was unilluminated gloom. If she did choose to run, Justine knew she faced a terrifying race along a narrow passage. When, or if, she reached the end of the corridor, there would follow a frantic search for the right key from her bunch as she tried to open the locked door that led back to the sanctuary of the library. Fear threatened to overwhelm her and she struggled to find the light switch before the mounting panic won.
‘Go on, Justine,’ the voice coaxed. ‘Take off your blouse. Show me your tits. I’m aching to see them. Don’t you want to show them off to me?’
From out of nowhere a hand touched her breast. Unseen fingers stroked the swell of one orb and her nipple pulsed softly as though responding to the vile stimulation. Startled by the contact, Justine dropped her keys to the floor. The jangle of metal striking stone was drowned out by her exclamation of despair and surprise. Without the keys she had no way of escaping the vault and, in the darkness, she had little hope of finding the fallen keys. Her search for the light switch was renewed with almost frenzied haste.
‘Go on,’ the voice insisted. ‘Take your blouse off and show them to me.’
Justine still couldn’t decide whether the voice was male or female – or if there was something familiar in the tone or if that was just her imagination – but those details were immaterial. Her main objectives were to turn on the light switch, find her keys, and finally flee from the vault as fast as she was able. She repeated those three goals inside her head like a personal mantra for survival.
Light, keys, run. Light, keys, run. Light, keys, run.
Going into the vault was her least favourite part of a job that had lost its allure many months earlier. Working in the library she had soon grown weary of cataloguing endless tomes – filing, stamping, repairing, re-filing and re-cataloguing – but those elements of her day-to-day routine were manageable even if their monotony had transcended the mundane. A long time before this incident, well before she had found herself trapped in the inescapable vault with an unknown stranger, her weekly visit there had been the one chore that she truly dreaded.
‘Unfasten a couple of buttons,’ the voice urged. ‘Show me a little cleavage. I want to see the milky white pallor of your tits so I can picture sinking my teeth into them. I’d love to bite you, Justine. I’d truly love to taste your ripe, plump flesh.’
Justine shivered and placed a defensive hand across her chest.
Light, keys, run. Light, keys, run. Light, keys, run.
She continued to claw at the wall, terror making her ill as she scrabbled to find the switch, but she kept her other hand fixed firmly over her breasts. The insidious touch she had suffered before had been unnerving and she was determined not to feel that loathsome caress for a second time.
Almost as though the stranger understood her fears, a hand traced against her backside and squeezed a buttock. ‘Be a good girl and take your blouse off, Justine. I’m aching to get a proper look at you.’
Forgetting her search for the light switch, Justine slapped the hand away and pressed her back against the wall. She couldn’t recall being more terrified. Her breath came in rapid, nervous gasps, pure adrenaline pounded through her veins, and her skin was suddenly clammy with perspiration.
Light, keys, run. Light, keys, run. Light, keys, run.
She tried to focus on her three-step plan for escape but it was impossible to think past her hatred of the room that had now become her prison. She had always despised the vault, and finding herself trapped within its secured walls was like the realisation of her every nightmare. The library’s patron, the local philanthropist Mrs Weiss, retained this vault beneath the main building for her own private collection. It was used to house a spectacular hoard of rare works, first editions and original manuscripts. There were a couple of handwritten Wordsworth poems, untidily made priceless by their fascinating corrections, additions and deletions; complete collections of Dickens, Poe and Hemingway in first editions, several of the titles signed by the authors; as well as a host of personal diaries from those historical luminaries whom Mrs Weiss revered. Yet, in spite of the priceless treasures it contained, and going against her professional appreciation of their importance, Justine still hated the vault.
‘G
et them out for me, Justine. I want to see them. I need to touch them.’
The room was always claustrophobically dark. Even when the meagre lights were switched on the shifting shadows held dominion over its airless realm. And there was something in the solitude and silence that made Justine yearn for the comparative bustle and companionship of the library above. But it wasn’t just the loneliness or the lack of light that she truly disliked. Being honest with herself, she had never understood the point of the room. For a book-lover like Justine, keeping such a marvellous collection hidden in the lightless gloom of the vault seemed tantamount to sacrilege.
‘Take your blouse off, Justine, and then I’ll turn the light on. How does that sound for a fair exchange?’
‘Who are you?’ She could hear the spiralling lilt of hysteria in her tone and tried desperately to squash it before it became too noticeable. ‘Who are you? What are you doing in here? And why are you tormenting me like this?’
‘Take your blouse off.’ The whispered instruction returned from the depths of the shadows. ‘Do that and I’ll turn the light on.’
‘I don’t want to take my blouse off,’ Justine complained.
‘Maybe you don’t want to,’ the voice agreed. ‘But you’ll do it if you want me to switch the light on. Why don’t you give in now and save us both the trouble of this senseless argument?’
She held her breath for a moment, wishing she could think of an appropriate reply, but only one response seemed right. She didn’t want to take her blouse off but she was less inclined to spend any longer in the vault than was absolutely necessary. Sure she had no other option, quietly promising herself that she would allow things to go no further than this one simple act of acquiescence, Justine said, ‘All right. I’ll take it off.’
The stranger drew an excited breath and, for the first time, Justine began to suspect that she might be trapped in the vault with a woman. She didn’t know where the idea came from – she couldn’t understand how it was possible to ascertain the stranger’s sex from an excited breath when she hadn’t been able to detect that much from the insidious questions and lewd suggestions – but she felt sure she was right. The thought did nothing to help ease her nerves or stop her fingers from trembling as she tried to release the buttons from her blouse, nor did it do anything to curtail her blushes as she shrugged the cotton garment from her shoulders.
‘Beautiful,’ the voice whispered. ‘Truly beautiful. Now take off the bra.’
‘You said you’d turn the light on,’ Justine exclaimed. ‘You said, if I took off my blouse, you’d turn the light on. You promised.’
‘I’ll turn the lights on once you’ve removed the bra.’
In the oppressive silence that lingered between them, Justine could feel her resolve fading. She didn’t want to expose herself to this unknown woman, although it was so dark in the vault she couldn’t properly call it exposing herself, but she had gone so far as to remove her blouse and she didn’t think it was such a great step to go that one step further and take off her bra. A sly voice at the back of her mind suggested that the woman’s night vision would be used to the vault’s gloom, but Justine shut those words off, unable to listen to their salacious suggestions. Treacherously, her nipples stiffened within the lacy cups of the garment, as though the tiny beads of flesh were trying to sway her with their own decision.
‘Take off your bra, show me your tits, and then I’ll turn the light on.’
Justine sniffed with disgust, most of it aimed at the woman who was demanding she undress but part of it meant for herself, then reached awkwardly behind her back to release the fastener. Her blushes had been deep before but now they burnt like coals against her cheeks. As she allowed the lacy bra to fall to the floor, she heard the stranger sigh with avaricious approval.
‘Now those truly are beautiful.’
It was unmistakably a woman’s voice, vaguely familiar and unnervingly close. Justine racked her brains to put a face or name to the voice but it was difficult to think beyond the piercing embarrassment of standing topless in front of an unknown stranger.
‘I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these little treasures from me all this time. They are so magnificent.’
A pair of hands reached out for her.
Justine stiffened when she realised fingers were cupping each breast and she could have fainted with embarrassment when a pair of thumbs stroked softly over the thrust of her nipples. The sensations were horribly exquisite: more arousing than she could have expected and twice as deplorable because of that glimmer of pleasure. Trying to remain unmoved, keeping her voice neutral and free from any taint of arousal, Justine said, ‘You were going to turn the light on.’
‘I will.’
Both hands remained at her breasts, squeezing and kneading the orbs while the thumbs constantly scratched back and forth over the stiff nipples. Justine ached to slap the stranger away, bark a bitter refusal and distance herself from the woman who was assaulting her, but she knew it would be safest to wait until the lights were on before she showed that much defiance.
‘Aren’t they just perfect?’ the stranger whispered.
Justine felt the tickle of hair against her breast, and then lips were brushing against her nipple. The torment of being fondled had been horribly exciting but this made her torture infinitely more unbearable. A cool mouth graced her bare flesh, then the slick warm wetness of a tongue pressed over one nipple. The bud of flesh grew quickly under the stimulation and then trilled with a rush of pleasure when it was playfully nibbled. Fighting to contain her responses, Justine pushed a fist into her mouth so she didn’t groan with enjoyment.
‘Aren’t they truly perfect?’ the stranger repeated.
Justine drew a deep breath before trusting herself to speak. Measuring each word, not wanting her statement to sound like a ruse, she said, ‘You’ll see them much better when you turn on the light.’
‘That’s right,’ the voice agreed. ‘I will see them better, won’t I?’
Mercifully the mouth moved away from Justine’s breast and the hands stopped tormenting her with their vile caresses. As promised the light came on but, rather than the illumination Justine had expected, she realised the bulb had been replaced. The room was turned black and scarlet from the glow of the dim, coloured bulb that now hung in the centre of the room. For the first time she got a chance to glimpse the person who had been assailing her with unwanted intimacies, vulgarities and depraved suggestions, yet the view didn’t help much. Too many shadows continued to hold reign and all Justine could see was the outline of a feminine shape. She noticed the narrow waist, buxom hips and full breasts of a womanly figure – she even observed the disquieting detail of the stranger’s nudity – but none of that helped her to place the woman’s identify.
‘Who are you?’ she demanded. Trying to sound confident, trying not to show that she was mortified to be displaying her bare breasts in this alien situation, she said, ‘I know you, don’t I?’
‘So many questions,’ the naked woman laughed. ‘And an answer will cost you your skirt. Are you prepared to pay that much?’
Defensively Justine clutched at the button on her skirt.
Light, keys, run. Light, keys, run. Light, keys, run.
Now that she had some illumination, Justine glanced at her feet to see if she could see the keys. The stone floor was frustratingly bare and it was only when she heard their dull metallic jangle that she realised the woman was now holding the bunch. From the set of her trembling silhouette it was almost possible to imagine that she was laughing.
‘You wanted to know who I am,’ the woman reminded her. ‘And I told you the answer would cost you your skirt. Take it off. Take it off and allow me to introduce myself.’
‘I don’t care who you are,’ Justine decided. ‘Just give me my keys and let me out of here.’
‘That will cost you your skirt and panties.’
The words shocked her with a thrill of black excitement. Justine couldn’t
explain why she should find the proposition arousing, or why she should contemplate surrendering herself further to the sadistic woman, but she couldn’t deny that the idea was tempting. In the aftermath of her terror the surge of excitement seemed like a natural response.
‘Strip naked, and then I’ll give you your keys and let you go,’ the woman assured her. ‘You’ve already shown me your tits, and I think we both got something out of that revelation, so why don’t you humour me with this final request? Take your skirt and panties off and I’ll give you back your keys.’
Sighing with frustration – hating the woman, the vault and her own weak will – Justine wrenched the skirt open. Hurrying to undress, not allowing herself to consider the consequence of her actions, she snatched her pants down to her ankles and stood naked in front of her tormentor.
‘Beautiful,’ the woman proclaimed. ‘Truly beautiful.’
Justine shivered with a mixture of cold and shame. She ached to put protective hands over herself but suspected that would only delay her escape from the vault. She had never thought exhibitionism could be such an aphrodisiac and she fervently steeled herself from the temptation of pleasure that it offered. Justine knew her body was attractive, she saw testament to that belief in the bathroom mirror each morning, and she wanted to smile with smug satisfaction as the stranger silently ogled her. But, not acknowledging any enjoyment, determined that she wouldn’t be swayed by the pleasurable thrill of revealing herself, Justine extended a hand and said, ‘I’ve done as you asked. Now let me have the keys so I can leave here.’
‘In good time,’ the woman promised.
Her voice had taken on a husky quality that was rich with arousal. The feral scent of womanly musk struck Justine’s nostrils and she wondered if she was drinking the perfume of the stranger or that of her own excitement.
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