Bait In the Trap

by Monica Belle

  There was nothing, the lawn empty as I looked back from the shelter of the front door. My heart was pounding and the adrenaline was singing in my head, my shaking worse than ever as I closed and barred the door. Only then did it occur to me that the man might have watched Julian leave and now be waiting for me in the kitchen, the sort of thing that’s always happening in horror films. To one side was an ancient stand full of walking sticks and umbrellas. I selected the heaviest stick, a massive blackthorn root more like an Irish shillelagh than a gentleman’s cane. Holding it at my shoulder I made a cautious return to our quarters, only to find the kitchen deserted and the door still open to the night.

  Feeling slightly foolish, I was grinning to myself as I peered outside once more, and wondering how I’d look, stark naked with the massive stick in my hand, but I kept a firm grip on it as I started for the folly. Walking the path through the trees was worse than being on the lawn, with the ground barely visible and the branches and leaves creating a multitude of confusing shadows. The slightest sound and I’d have run, but I reached the folly unmolested and my soft whisper was answered by Julian where he’d hidden himself beneath one of the stone benches.

  Now more confident, because if anybody did come they were the ones who would get a shock, I began to set up the altar in what had become a familiar routine. My thumb was the perfect implement to draw out the pentagram, the outline of which was now stained into the stone, and also to paint the sigils onto my breasts and belly. With that done I went to fetch the sheep skulls and chanced to glance out over the field towards the river, where a dark shape was walking towards me, unnaturally tall, a ragged coat flapping around his ankles, or possibly its ankles, because no human had such an angular, bony head.

  I was screaming for Julian and snatching for the blackthorn stick and turning to run all at the same time, my head full of terrifying visions of some grotesque nightmare we’d managed to summon up from hell itself, only to stop as the thing spoke.

  ‘Who’s that? Are you all right in there?’

  Julian was still uncurling himself from under the bench as I snatched my hands over my breasts and pussy, my fear shifting to acute embarrassment as Henry Aylsham stepped closer. Now I could make out the rucksack on his back and the tripod fixed across it, making me feel intensely foolish as I struggled to find an excuse for what we were doing in his folly at the dead of night, me naked and Julian done up as the Devil. Julian spoke first, and his response astonished me.

  ‘Oh it’s you. You scared Chloe. Go to Vanessa, now.’

  I expected a furious response, and probably the sack, but Henry merely muttered an apology and moved on past the folly. He’d presumably been out birdwatching until sunset, or possibly girl watching, but even then he had every right to be on his own land. Yet Julian had spoken to him as if their roles were reversed. The moment Henry was out of earshot I couldn’t help but ask.

  ‘Thanks, but isn’t he going to sack you or something?’

  Julian laughed.

  ‘No, not Henry. Are you OK now?’

  ‘Yes, just about. He gave me a shock, that’s all. There’s this book I read, Banquet for the Damned, and there’s this horrible thing like a giant dog skeleton dressed in rags. He looked just like that coming across the fields.’

  ‘Don’t fuss, darling. Nothing like that exists.’

  ‘I know, but ...’

  ‘Hush.’

  He hugged me close and kissed the top of my head. I was trembling badly, my body prickled with sweat, but I was a lot calmer and a new thought occurred to me.

  ‘Do you suppose Henry could have taken that photo?’

  ‘Henry? No, definitely not.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘That wouldn’t be his style at all. Anyway, he knows.’

  ‘He knows? About what we’re doing?’

  ‘Of course. It’s his estate, after all, and it’s probably about time I explained how things work around here ...’

  Chapter Four

  HE DIDN’T, NOT THEN and there, but led me back to the house and a very welcome bed. The next morning he went to talk to Vanessa and came back with a wicked grin on his face, refusing to tell me what was going on. I wondered if I was due for another spanking, and although I couldn’t see why, I was sure they’d find an excuse. Not wanting to repeat the embarrassment of being caught in tattered old knickers I dressed carefully, in matching underwear and a smart dress, but as I stood doing my make-up in the bathroom mirror and thinking how easy it would be to strip me Julian called out from his room.

  ‘He was there, look!’

  I rushed in, lipstick in hand, to find Julian looking at the same blog as before, the Hieronymus Bosch wallpaper instantly recognisable, only instead of the photograph there was a paragraph of text. Julian began to read it out.

  ‘“This is getting well weird! I went back to Candle Street Hall last night, not with the phone but with my D90, meaning to get some serious shots. The girl was there, naked like before, but she was too far away when I saw her. She walked into the woods where the old temple is so I started walking round. With the tripod I should’ve been able to get something, maybe, but before I even got close there was this scream. It scared the shit out of me, believe me, and I saw other people, at least three of them, the man who runs the ghost tours and a skinny guy with a load of equipment. What happened? Maybe something went wrong and she got scared, but I aim to go back and find out.”’

  Julian and I shared a glance.

  ‘He was watching us, all the time!’

  ‘Not all the time, unfortunately. He seems to know who you and I are though, but not Henry, which must mean he’s been on a tour.’

  ‘And he’s coming back.’

  ‘Yes, tonight with any luck, because that will give him a chance to investigate thoroughly. We’ll be over at the gatehouse.’

  ‘We will?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re going to spank me, aren’t you, in front of Henry?!’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh. What then, by Vanessa again?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So what is happening? Tell me, Julian.’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  He went back to studying the screen, and didn’t respond at all when I prodded his shoulder in vexation for being so mysterious. As before, the Inquisitor hadn’t left any real clues, but it seemed likely that he’d either come across the fields from Black Dog Lane or along the river bank. In either case it was easy to get onto the estate, but the marshes downriver were pretty much impassable, while we couldn’t really see him simply strolling up the drive. He’d definitely been on the river bank when he’d heard me scream, or we’d have seen him, and Henry had come back through the marshes. Otherwise his identity and movements remained a mystery, but I agreed with Julian that the best thing to do was lock the house up securely and give him a free run of the grounds.

  We left the folly more or less as it was, with the pentagram in place and the pot of wax still out, but we added a couple of skulls, all as if we’d abandoned it in a hurry. That put Julian in a mischievous mood, and he added another set of hoof prints, some among the leaves, which barely showed, but one track leading out across the field before turning back, as if he, or it, had started for the river bank where the Inquisitor had presumably been lurking.

  There was a big group coming that afternoon, and Julian and I shared the tour. Beforehand the faces of visitors had tended to blur into one, especially when I had my mind on other things, but now I was intent on every face, hoping to search out our mysterious watcher. If he was among my group he wasn’t making himself obvious, and while there were four single men, they were together and it was hard to see anyone of them as the Inquisitor. Julian had no better luck.

  ‘Not in mine. How about yours?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but I don’t really know what to look for.’

  ‘It’s hard to say, but after last night you’d think his attitude towards us would stand out. Ma
ybe he came before and doesn’t want to give himself away.’

  ‘There’s that.’

  ‘Anyway, if you’re ready, Graham’s gone home so it’s time we went over to the gatehouse.’

  He took my hand and I allowed myself to be led down the drive with my sense of anticipation rising fast, along with my apprehension. Even though Vanessa had spanked me before and there was no denying that I’d enjoyed every moment, the emotion that went with it was close to overwhelming. Without Julian I’d probably have turned back, but as always he made it far easier to give in. By the time we reached the gatehouse I was shaking again, my head full of thoughts of what was to happen; the moment my panties would come down, whether she’d put them in my mouth again, how painful the smacks would be, and being put on my knees to her when my punishment was over. Julian had no such qualms, leading me in at the door and up the stairs to Vanessa and Henry’s living room, where both of them were waiting for us. My stomach went tight at the thought of being spanked in front of Henry, one more witness to my humiliation and a male one at that. Yet that didn’t seem to fit in with the way he was dressed, which was startling to say the least.

  When I’d seen him before he’d been in baggy, threadbare tweeds, completely unremarkable. Now he was in what appeared to be a maid’s uniform, in black nylon with white lace at the neck and a frilly underskirt, also stockings and high heels, while his hands were folded in his lap and his eyes downcast in a hangdog expression. Vanessa was no less striking, in a sheaf of skintight scarlet leather, and knee-length, high-heeled boots of the same brilliant colour. She was also holding a long riding whip with a particularly vicious-looking leather sting at the business end. I immediately imagined how painful it would be if applied to my bottom, but she was smiling at me, as wicked as could be, but more friendly than cruel as she spoke up.

  ‘Hello, Julian, and little Chloe. She’s going to watch, worm.’

  The final word was addressed to Henry, who responded with a shame-filled mumble.

  ‘Yes, mistress.’

  Vanessa went on.

  ‘Make yourselves comfortable. Worm, why aren’t you getting them drinks?’

  ‘Sorry, mistress.’

  Henry hurried to obey, while I hastily closed my mouth and tried to look as if what was going on was familiar. It wasn’t – far from it – but I seemed to fit in as a witness to Henry’s humiliation and possibly a beating, which filled me with both relief and disappointment but no real excitement. Vanessa carried on as Henry mixed gin and tonic.

  ‘I do hope you can cope with this, Chloe, but Julian assured me you’d be OK and you do like your own bottom smacked, after all, don’t you? You ought to see him punished anyway, don’t you think, for spying on you at the lake, and for scaring you last night?’

  ‘That ... that wasn’t really his fault, and ...’

  ‘Nonsense. It’s always his fault. Isn’t it, worm?’

  ‘Yes, mistress.’

  ‘And are you going to say sorry to poor Chloe?’

  ‘Yes, mistress. Sorry, Miss Chloe.’

  Her riding whip lashed out, to catch his bare thigh where it showed beneath the hem of his ridiculous frilly skirt. He yelped in pain but didn’t drop the drinks, instead passing them to Julian and I as Vanessa carried on.

  ‘You can do better than that, worm.’

  ‘Yes, mistress. Sorry, mistress. I’m very sorry I scared you last night, Miss Chloe, and I’m very sorry I peeped at you in the nude. I’m a miserable peeping Tom and I deserve to be punished.’

  Vanessa chuckled.

  ‘And so you shall be. Perhaps I’ll even let Chloe whip you? Then again, I suspect you’d enjoy that too much. Now kneel.’

  Her last words were sharp and commanding, so much so that I nearly got down myself. Henry obeyed instantly, falling to his knees on the rug between the sofa Julian and I had taken and the comfortable armchair in which Vanessa was seated. She nodded, pleased with his prompt and unquestioning response.

  ‘Face to the floor.’

  Again he obeyed, bracing his hands on the rug and lowering his head until his nose was pressed to the floor. His buttocks were lifted, his skirt now well up to reveal frilly white knickers beneath. Vanessa reached out with her riding whip, to tap him gently across both cheeks as she spoke.

  ‘Bare or not, that is the question. I don’t suppose Chloe wants to see your scrawny backside, and I certainly don’t, but all that froufrou does rather cushion the blows.’

  Henry didn’t answer, but his face was a picture, full of humiliation and ecstasy at the same time, and so foolish in combination with his maid’s outfit that I found myself stifling a giggle, only to realise that I’d probably looked almost as silly bent over Vanessa’s knee with my knickers pulled down and my bare bottom stuck in the air while she spanked me. Not quite as ridiculous though, because at least I’d have been able to carry off the maid’s uniform. Vanessa still hadn’t made up her mind.

  ‘What do you think, Julian, Chloe? Shall we leave the worm the dignity of his frilly knickers, or is the sight of his bottom too horrid?’

  Julian made a gesture of casual indifference and Vanessa turned to me. I was already blushing badly, and struggled to speak.

  ‘I ... I don’t know. Don’t knickers always come down for ... for that sort of thing?’

  It was the only thing I could think of to say that would seem remotely appropriate, and it set my blushes hotter still. Vanessa smiled.

  ‘Do knickers always come down? I bet yours do, but then you have a beautiful bottom. Hmm ... perhaps you’re right.’

  She reached out, to twitch Henry’s panties down at the back, exposing two skinny buttocks and drawing a gasp from him, something with which I could entirely sympathise. Vanessa tapped the sting of her whip against his cheeks.

  ‘So then, worm, this is for being a peeping Tom. I think 20 strokes should do it.’

  Her riding whip came up, and down, landing across his buttocks with a meaty sound that made my stomach jump and my own cheeks tighten. I was sure it hurt far more than her hand had done, but unlike me he took it well, probably because he was used to it, and he didn’t even begin to gasp until the eighth stroke. By 15 he was clutching the rug with his teeth gritted in pain and his eyes tight shut, but Vanessa never even slowed down, laying in each stroke hard and precise across his bottom until she at last reached 20. His cheeks were a mesh of red lines, his skin prickled with sweat and his breathing deep and even, while I could see that his cock had begun to swell and stiffen. Vanessa’s voice was rich with contempt as she spoke again.

  ‘And for scaring her, perhaps just another ten. After all, she is a very silly girl, and there’s no insult to me, unlike peeping at her!’

  On the last word she gave him another stroke, much harder than the last and obviously unexpected. At that he finally cried out, and was mumbling broken apologies and promising to behave better in future. She ignored him, but waited until he’d calmed down a little before administering the remaining nine strokes to leave him in a worse state than before, now with his cock hanging turgid into his lowered panties. Vanessa sat back, smiling.

  ‘That will do, for the time being at least. Now, Chloe, what do you suppose happens next?’

  ‘I ... I don’t know. Are you going to make him say thank you?’

  ‘No, dear. That sort of privilege is reserved for pretty little things like you. The worm isn’t allowed to touch me.’

  ‘I don’t know then.’

  ‘Then I’ll tell you. The worm is a cuckold, which means that he likes to watch his mistress with other men – preferably beefy, well-endowed men. Julian has always played the part very well.’

  The thought made me shiver, but that was one thing I wasn’t going to surrender to her. I tried to make a joke of it.

  ‘He can’t do that, not now.’

  Vanessa nodded.

  ‘No, which is a pity, and I did hope you might be more flexible. Still, there are alternatives. How do you feel about gay sex
?’

  ‘Um ... well, it’s OK, but ...’

  I stopped, my blushes hotter than ever as I realised the implications of what she was saying. My eyes went to Julian, but he merely gave me an enigmatic smile as Vanessa carried on.

  ‘I do hope you’re not going to be a little prude about this too. The thing is that a man, a real man, doesn’t much care where he puts his cock, as long as he gets his satisfaction. On the other hand, a grovelling, pathetic little worm isn’t fit to put his cock anywhere, except into his own hand and that in private so that nobody else has to watch. What he is fit for, though, is to suck a real man’s cock.’

  Once more I glanced at Julian, horrified.

  ‘Have you?’

  His answer was as casual as it was shocking.

  ‘No, but we used to let him lick my balls while we fucked, with Vanessa on top, you understand.’

  I nodded dumbly, but the scene was clear in my mind, Julian laid naked on the bed with Vanessa mounted across his hips, her trim little cheeks spread to show off where his cock went into her open pussy as her grovelling husband licked her lover’s balls and her bottom slapped in his face as she rode. Vanessa spoke again, her voice soft and teasing.

  ‘Go on, be wicked. Think how he scared you, and he’s going to have to suck your lover’s penis to say sorry.’

  ‘Um ... well, maybe, I suppose ... if it’s what you all want.’

  ‘Oh it is, Chloe, and while the worm is sucking, you and I can have a little cuddle while we watch. Wouldn’t you like that?’

  I didn’t answer, too shocked to know what to say, but it did occur to me that I’d already licked her, and told Julian I wanted to beforehand. If I could give oral sex to another woman, then it was only fair. It was thrilling too, not for the act, but because in some weird way it made my man the top dog, which was not only exciting but right. I stood up, crossed the room and sat in Vanessa’s lap. She gave a little purr and her hand closed on my bottom.