Fifty Shades of Sherlock Holmes (5 page)

"Perhaps it
was telling my story to such a handsome man as yourself," she said.
  

"Handsome?"

"Yes,"
she said.
 
Her legs were squeezing
together even tighter now.
 

"I have a
question," I said.
 

"Ask me
anything.
 
I have no secrets left."

"Exactly how
hard was he hitting your bottom with the paddle?"

"Hard enough
to sting, but not hard enough to leave a bruise.
 
Does that help?"

I shrugged and
said, "I suppose it is the best I could have hoped for.
 
And you found that to be pleasurable?
 
I cannot fathom how that can be so."

The Countess
turned around to listen to the driver and Holmes in the forward compartment and
then peeked out the window.
 
"It
certainly seems like we are going to be riding for a while," she said.
 
She looked back at me and said,
"Here.
 
Give me your hand."

I held out my
hand and she got down on her knees on the floor of the carriage and rested her
elbows on the bench, offering me her buttocks.
 
"Spank me lightly, and I'll tell you how much harder you need to do
it."
 
I hesitated, and the Countess
turned her head to look back at me, "I thought you said you weren't easily
shocked."

"I'm
not," I said defensively.
 
"Here."
 
I smacked her
across the backside lightly, making the fabric of her skirt ruffle.
 

"That simply
won't do," she said.
 
She hiked up
her skirt to show me how her bloomers covered her perfectly formed rear end,
like an upside down heart.
 
"Try it
now."

I slapped the
other cheek, this time with a more satisfying sound against the light fabric of
her underclothes.
 

"Still
no," she said.
 
"Pull them
down."

"Are you
certain?" I said.
 

"Yes, come
on.
 
The least I can do after you
listened to my
caterwauling
, as you
so succinctly put it."

"I did not
mean it as an insult," I said.
 

"Cease
speaking and spank me."

I pulled down the
waistband of her bloomers and stared in wonder at her naked buttocks.
 
Bent over, it was a sight of perfection.
 
I could not help but run my fingers along her
flesh and squeeze both delicious handfuls of flesh.
 
I sneaked my hand between her legs while
moving from one side to the other and the soft hairs of her sex tickled my
palm.
 
They were tipped with dampness.
 

I smacked her on
the bare cheek hard enough to send a loud crack throughout the interior of the
cabin.
 
"That's it!" she
cried.
 
"Do it again."

I spanked her as
hard as I could on either cheek, hitting her hard enough to see red hand prints
appear on the alabaster skin.
 
She gasped
and reached up between her legs and began to frig herself.
 
I leaned back to watch her fingers slide in
and out of the damp hole and rub the tiny button of skin until clear juices
began to sputter from her sex.
 
"I
need your cock," she said.
 

I tore at my
trousers until it was free, but just as I was about to slide it into her, she smacked
me away and said, "No!
 
I must save
myself for him.
 
Lie down."

I did as she
instructed.
 
The Countess shimmied out of
her bloomers and spread her knees on either side of my face, so that I was
looking directly up at her sex.
 
She bent
forward and grasped my tackle with both hands.
 
"We will suck each other," she said.
 

"Anything!"
I said.
 

As she lowered
her sex to my eager mouth, I felt her envelope me with her mouth.
 
I sucked on her cunny until it leaked,
slicking my face until I had to close my eyes to keep them from stinging.
 
I licked her until my tongue felt numb and
sucked on her clitoral hood, even as she alternated between yanking my John
Thomas back and forth into her mouth and taking it all the way down and all the
way up over and over, working like the pistons of a factory machine.

I thought of her
story from the night before, how the Gatekeeper had filled her up.
 
I stuck one of my fingers into her coiled
rectum as I licked her sex, and she groaned with pleasure.
 
I slid my finger in and out, staring in
wonder at the wrinkles of her orifice, and how she squealed each time I pushed
it in further.
 
  

The carriage
bounced along the country road, crashing her body down onto my lips and my cock
deeper into her mouth.
 
Finally, she
lifted her head and said, "Do not spend yourself in my mouth.
 
Tell me before you are about to spurt."

I moaned a
meaningless reply, lost in the pool of her hot gates and the delicious spell of
her mouth.
 
I felt an orgasm building
deep within my loins.
 
A volcanic
eruption with steam and fire and hot jets of burning lava about to
explode.
 
I grabbed the back of her head
and held it in place as I gritted my teeth and came in one great, shuddering
spasm.
 
She moaned in complaint even as I
filled her mouth and it bubbled out from her lips, even as I held her in place
to keep her mouth firmly seated on me.
 

When I finally
let go, she rolled off in exhaustion.
 
Her face dripped with white cream like she'd eaten a baker's glazed confection
without using her hands.
 
I could not
move.
 
My jaw ached with pain and it hurt
to close.
 
It was all I could to lie
there and try to catch my breath. I felt light in the head and did not dare try
to sit up.
 

The Countess
smacked me on the leg and said, "I told you to tell me.
 
It shot into the back of my throat."

"I tried,"
I lied.
 
"You must not have heard
me."
   

 
~***~

By the time the
carriage stopped, she and I had managed to get back into our clothes and
comport ourselves.
 
We did not speak much
after that, though, and the Countess began to look out the window and say,
"Where are we?
 
This all looks too
familiar."

When Holmes threw
open the rear door, I saw the sprawling estate behind him and the Countess
said, "What are we doing here?
 
I
thought you said you were taking me to him."
 

Holmes held out
his arm and said, "And so I shall, but I believe there is something we
must first learn here."

The Countess laid
her arm on Holmes' elbow, and for a brief moment, his keen, hawk-like eyes
centered on the carriage floor and quickly shifted from her to me.
 
What the bloody hell had he seen, I
thought.
 
Damn his supernatural powers of
observation.
 

I followed them
toward the estate's front door and Holmes said, "Would you be so kind as
to let us in?"

We all filtered into
the home and Holmes looked around eagerly, "And where is the master
bedroom?"

"Upstairs
and to the left," she said.
 

"Excellent.
 
Lead the way, my dear Countess."

Upon entering the
bedroom, Holmes said, "May I see your gown once more?"
 
He undid the clasp of the golden raven and
said, "Do you know the scientific name for the bird family the raven hails
from?"

The Countess
shook her head.

"Corvus,"
Holmes said.
 
He held up the golden raven
and said, "The same as your husband's title.
 
A rather clever nod to his station, I
thought."
 
He spread the gown out so
that it hung from the tips of his fingers to the ground and lined it up with
the Countess's figure.
 
"And for the
dress to arrive at your city home already sized perfectly to fit you, it stands
to reason that someone was more than slightly familiar with your
body."
 

"But who
could know that?" the Countess said.
 

Holmes ran his
hand along the gown's fabric and said, "And you yourself acknowledged how
soft and luxurious the fabric was against your skin.
 
That is because it is made from the rarest
Chinese silk.
 
A rather expensive variety
of it, I might add."

Holmes spun
around to face a closet on the west wall of the bedroom.
 
"Another clever reference to your
husband's recent travels to the Orient."

"But who
else could have gone to China and come back with such a dress for me?" the
Countess said.
 
"I know the men my
husband went with, and none of them could possibly be the Gatekeeper."

"That is
because none of his associates is the Gatekeeper, madam," Holmes
said.
 
He opened the closet door and
reached inside, only to reemerge with the exact Greek Tragedy mask the Countess
had described before.
 

Her mouth fell
open and she tried to speak but no words came out.
 
She finally summoned the voice to say,
"What trickery is this?
 
How did
that come into this house?"

Holmes looked
past the two of us and said, "Perhaps you would care to explain, Count
Barrymore?"

I turned around
to see the reddened face of a middle-aged man, looking at his wife with sad eyes
that suddenly welled up with tears.
 
He
let out a low moan and said, "When I came home and found you were gone, I
feared the worst, that you had left me.
 
I only sought to excite you once more.
 
I am sorry for the trickery, my sweet, sweet angel."

"You are the
Gatekeeper?" she shouted.
 
"You
evil, wormy bastard!"
  

"Yes,"
Holmes said.
 
"It was your husband
the entire time.
 
I began to suspect it
when you first came to my office, but first I needed to check the shipping
offices at the London docks.
 
Your
husband arrived home over a week ago."

The Countess
screamed in outrage and began striking him across the face with her open hand,
until Holmes and I both had to wrestle her back and hold her fast.
 
"How could you do that to me?
 
How could you humiliate me like that?"

The Count could
not bring himself to speak, and his silence only spurred her to hurl curses at
him of the most vile nature.
 
It was the
anger of someone who'd just had an entire dream collapse on her like the Temple
of Dagon.
 
The Count only bowed his head
and endured her abuse.
 

"Take
her," I said to Holmes.
 
"Do
you have her?"

He told me he
did, and I took the Tragedy mask from him and grabbed the Count by the arm and
pulled him out of the bedroom, even as his wife continued to scream at
him.
 
"Here," I said.
 

He looked at the
mask and groaned, "I have already done enough harm with that."

"Put it on,
you fool.
 
Become that which she desires
once more."
 

He fastened the
mask over his face and the change was immediate.
 
His back stiffened and his shoulders squared
with mine.
 
He pushed the bedroom door
open and leveled his finger at Holmes and said, "Let go of that which
belongs to me."
      
  

The Countess
stopped struggling and Holmes released her.
 
Her eyes were fixed on his mask and it was as if no one else existed in
the room.
 
The Gatekeeper grabbed her by
both wrists and pulled her close to his chest, "Do not speak another word,
or there will be terrible consequences."

She squeaked in
compliance and stared up into the dark void of his hard mask.
 

I thought of our
time together in the carriage and felt a sort of despair come over me, but
Holmes put his arm around my shoulder and said, "Come Watson.
 
We must leave these two."

I said nothing as
we walked together back to the carriage.
 
He opened the door to the rear compartment and sighed deeply as he sat
on the bench across from me.
 
The same
one the Countess had occupied during our ride here.
 

"So, another
of our adventures has come to an end, Watson."

"So it has,
Holmes," I said.
 
I could not bring
myself to look away from the estate, imagining that the Count was already
positioned behind his wife and administering the first of multiple smacks to
her perfectly shaped rear end.

"I had the
most delightful conversation with the carriage driver on the way here.
 
I do not envy you that you were trapped in
this compartment with the Countess all that time.
 
Was it as horrible as it seemed?"