Hope's Vengeance (33 page)

His gaze moved from the bondage equipment to the intense blue eyes, staring into her soul, and his voice crackled huskily. “Yes. I do. And yes, I’ve got a wickedly naughty streak inside me. What else have you got in there?”

Eva chuckled, a light breeze, and reached into the bag again. She brought out a blindfold, a ball gag, a large vibrator, a feather, and a can of spray cream, adding them neatly to the display on the charcoal carpet. “There’s more, but we’ll save that for later. So now tell me I didn’t come here with sex on my mind!”

“You bitch, you horny, sexy bitch.” He nodded towards the long, neatly manicured, blood red nails. “Do you use them?”

She clawed the air. “You bet.” Pulling herself to her feet, she took the chains and cuffs and dropped them on the bed. “I’m in charge now, Griffin. I’m your dominatrix, you’re my slave, and you’ll do whatever I tell you to do. If you think something’s going to far the codeword for me to stop is ‘hope’. Okay?” He nodded greedily. “Lie down, on your back.”

Griffin threw himself back on the bed, head sinking comfortably into the down pillow. Slow and tantalizing, Eva undressed him, nails softly stroking him, the acute sensation barely there. Now naked, fully erect, the colossal tower standing upright impressively, he moved his arms and legs to the four corners of the king-size bed. Expertly, she cuffed him, attaching the chains and feeding them under the wooden bed frame, locking the links together with a hefty padlock. She stood back, hands on hips, and eyed her handiwork. “Perfect! Give me a minute, I’ll just freshen up a bit.”

Stopping at the leather hold-all for a sponge bag, Eva strolled languidly to the en-suite, closing and locking the door. Griffin could hear the taps running, and it turned him on that she was cleaning herself especially for his pleasure. He was certain she was about to give him the time of his life, the best sex, the roughest and most violent. He wasn’t like other men, never had been, erections over women had never presented themselves easily. He’d never had his wife, in fact he’d never had sex with anyone over the age of ten, and they always screamed which sometimes brought on an orgasm, but other times it made him want to slap them to shut them up. He’d always resisted, but the idea of sex with an adult woman was exciting: he wanted to punch her, slap her, bite her, make her squeal with pain, that would bring him off so easily. He heard the chain flush, the harsh sound of reality hitting his core and dispensing the fantasy. Very soon he was flaccid again.

The bathroom door opened and Eva stepped out, the top replaced with a PVC bra, and black silk gloves stretched languidly up her arms. She strode confidently, back straight, head held high, which separated the ends of her bob from her shoulders to reveal a delicate, dainty neck. She bent over the display of titillating toys on the floor, taking the aerosol cream, the feather, the whip, and the blindfold.

Griffin took a final glance over Eva’s sexy body before she tied the shaped scarf at the back of his head, and blackness consumed him. After a few moments of tentative anticipation Griffin sighed in relief when he felt the sensation under his chin. Guessing it was the feather tickling him, he closed his eyes beneath the blindfold, the retraction of sight enhancing every sensation, relishing the spasms that racked his body when it traced over an erogenous zone. Finally it reached his testicles, flicking firmly, and his whole body tingled, desperate for what was to come.

A gentle fizzle and the coldness landed on his skin, cream mingling with the thick grey and black hairs that littered his chest and abdomen, the heat of his body melting it rapidly from foam to liquid. The chill now surrounded his testicles, his penis, and he pushed his groin high, ecstatic. An animal moaning eased from his lips, and then the begging. “Lick it off. Lick it off. Eva, lick it off.”

In an instant the crack on his hip startled him, he flinched as it stung, burning through his buttocks. Rapidly the searing subsided, only to be re-instated with another lash. He whelped in pain. “No! Stop!”

Her voice was all around him, surrounding, cloying, it sank into his pores screaming ‘mistress’. “I didn’t tell you to speak. You only speak when I tell you to speak, is that clear!”

His head nodded fervently. “Yes, yes.”

“You spoke again. Now I punish you.” Eva scrambled from the bed, she took the ball gag, roughly shoving it in his mouth, fixing it firmly behind his head. He tried a muffled word, but it was unintelligible. Her nails scraped down his chest leaving red welts, and Eva could see from his frown and limp penis that she wasn’t having the planned effect. She needed him hard. With a grimace she slipped a latex glove from inside the cup of her bra, dragging it over the silk glove. She grasped his penis, holding at arms length, and began to masturbate him. As his manhood rose, Eva took the whip with her other hand, raised it high, and cracked it across his shoulder, making him recoil as far as his restraints would allow. A lascivious grin spread over his face and she knew she’d won round one.

It took moments for him to explode, thrusting his hips up. Penis throbbing, shooting juice to mingle with the molten cream on his belly. More. More. He squirmed on the bed, the ecstasy not subsiding, writhing and grimacing, until finally his body relaxed, and by the time Eva had got to the bathroom door to scrub at her skin, scour any trace of him away, his breathing had slowed, a soft rasping intake heralding sleep.

Clean now, and ready for round two, Eva smiled. She dropped the latex glove, picked her coat up from the carpet, shrugged it on, took the room keys and left, closing and locking the door quietly behind her.

Manhunt

A hurried warrant had given DS Krein the authority to search the Hall’s rectory, regardless of Griffin’s absence. A couple of constables guarded the gate to shield the rubbernecks, and detectives rooted through the house for clues or evidence. Krein began in the kitchen, immediately noting the brandy bottle and grimy glass that sat, unmoved since the night before. A thick slide mark staining the lino caught his eye, and he bent down to investigate further. It began from beneath the larder door, turned a crescent, and finished at the step to the garage door. He stooped, wiping his finger along the mark, and sniffed. It was sweet, maybe honey, or golden syrup. Opening the cupboard, he was unsurprised to see a pool of the sticky substance on the concrete floor. This alone was enough evidence to convert the area to a crime scene and get a forensics team involved. He made a call for some back-up.

In the garage a thick nylon rope hung limply from the rafters, and Krein, not touching now that forensics were on their way, examined it closely. The underside on one half was frayed slightly, leading him to suppose it had been used as a winch. A winch to lift Dorothy’s body to the car? Time would tell.

In the main bedroom one bed was neatly made, an empty coin tray on the bedside cabinet. Griffin’s bed? The other had the covers pulled off completely, they lay on the floor, still tucked under the mattress on one side. In the centre of the bed was a sodden patch, and Krein remembered that Dorothy had been raped post mortem, possibly several times. He decided to leave the analysis of the liquid to the forensics team.

When Krein stepped into the study he began to search the desk, glancing at the leather bound A4 diary that lay open for the current day. ‘Eva Brunel. 8pm. Cambridge Garden House Hotel, Mill Lane.’ He tapped the book with his finger, speaking to himself more than to DI Claudia Horseferry who was working in the room. “There’s the motive then. He was having an affair with some woman called Eva Brunel.”

Claudia looked up from where she sat on the floor, the search for possible evidence in the contents of the bin abandoned for the moment. “Did you say Eva Brunel?”

He nodded, flicking through the diary. “Yep. He’s meeting her tonight in Cambridge. Well, I assume the hotel’s in Cambridge by its name.”

Claudia’s mouth was hanging open, and her mind whirred, fear growing. “Dave, Eva Brunel is one of the two women who’ve come forward accusing Griffin Hall of sexual abuse when they were children.”

His fingers stroked the day old stubble that covered his chin as he digested the words, and his eyes pleaded Claudia for more. She spoke, but to herself, not him. “I knew she was too calm, too businesslike. She’s in this for revenge, not justice.” Claudia jumped up, now in charge of her superior. “She’s planned something, Dave, we need to stop her. Does it say where they’re meeting?”

Encased in her enthusiasm, Krein had his car keys in his hand. “Yes. Come on, we’ll go, request back-up on the way there.” Hastily delegating the examination of the house to a trusted and thorough colleague, Krein trotted to his car, closely followed by Claudia.

The Promise

Rick was dozing, still relaxed from the post coital tiredness, even though he’d been asleep a good two hours. Hearing the sound of a key in the door, he opened his eyes and gasped when he saw Eva. “What the fuck are you doing here! Get out, if Hope sees you she’ll go mental.”

Hope’s face remained stern as she tugged the raven, bobbed wig from her head, her own mahogany curls flattened until she shook them out, and Rick’s jaw dropped. “Eva Brunel! Our new lead singer. Is you! What the hell are you playing at, Hope Brown?”

Heading for the mini bar, Hope shrugged the coat from her shoulders, revealing the skimpy PVC outfit Rick recognised from the first rehearsal of Reveal’s new line up, and tugged the gloves off. She poured two large brandies and thrust one at Rick, who was now sitting, sheets covering his nakedness. “Fucking hell, babe, you had me taken in there, but I have to admit you look hot! Come here.” He reached out for her but she dodged his hands, slugging the brandy.

“Remember when we got engaged, I agreed to it only if you did me a favour.” Hope sat neatly on the end of the bed, swirling the dregs of her drink in the bottom of the glass.

“Yep, and I phoned that policewoman…”

“Claudia Horseferry.”

“That’s the one, and told her everything you wrote down, and I’m certain she bought it.”

Hope sneered. “That wasn’t the favour, I clearly stated to you that I wanted you to kill someone for me.”

Now he was sitting bolt upright, his hands pushing down on the covers. “Fuck that, did you! I wouldn’t agree to that.”

“Oh, you did. And I fucked you again straight after you said yes so that you could orgasm. Remember now?”

Rick was out of the bed now, tugging his underpants on, angry. “For fuck’s sake, Hope, I would have agreed to anything to get you to fuck me again, you know that.”

Fire shot from her eyes, the blue harsh and stark, yet searing into his soul. “Exactly, and that’s why I fucked you, so you’d agree, and now I’ve agreed to marry you and I’m having your baby,” she patted her tummy, “so you’ll keep your side of the bargain.”

Rick stomped across the room, waving a hand behind him, dismissive. “Fuck off, babe. I’m not killing anybody, baby or not. You want someone dead, find a fucking hit man, you’ve got the money, but I’m not getting involved.” He grabbed a can of Stella from the mini bar, and cracked it open, swigging thirstily from the can and gradually it dawned on him that the only noise he could hear was his own gulping. He lowered the can, sensing the sinister silence, and tentatively turned back towards the bed.

An opened knife roll lay on the covers, the knife that was missing leaving a glaring space, and his eyes moved to Hope. In her hand she brandished a long narrow boner knife, gripping it so firmly her knuckles glowed white. He drew a sharp intake of breath, trepidation tingling his spine. “What are you doing, Hope?”

Her voice had reduced to a growl. “Call me babe, Rick, it’s more your style.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You work it out. Do you want me to have your baby, huh, do you want this baby in here.” Her spare fist hammered her belly, and Rick winced.

“Hope, I mean, babe, don’t do that, I don’t want you hurting the baby.”

She hitched the mini skirt high revealing her nakedness underneath, and spread her legs, placing the knife close to her genitals. Rick gasped, springing forward, then reconsidering, stopping, and holding his hands in the air. “Babe, come on, you’re hormonal. Put the knife down. Put it on the bed. Come on, babe, we’ll get through this.”

“Help me to kill the guy who forced me to give him oral sex and raped me when I was Bern’s age. I’ve managed to get him here by pretending to be Eva, now I want to torture him for what he did to me. If you refuse, Rick, I’m going to cut your child from my body in front of you. Don’t try calling my bluff.” She indicated the scars on her arms with her eyes. “Cutting myself is a relief, I’ll enjoy doing it, it’ll give me piece of mind. It’s you that won’t be able to deal with it.” Hope thrust the knife, stopping millimetres away from harming herself, and Rick’s fists clenched, his face pained. “Say bye-bye to baby, sweetheart.”

He leapt forward, unable to stand any more, and wrestled the knife from her hand. She probed for the other knives, but he whisked them onto the floor, out of her reach, following them with the boning knife. Hope snarled. “You will fucking help me, Rick Faraday, Griffin Hall has to pay for what he did.” Hammering at his chest, frustration and pent up anger consuming her voice.

Rick pushed her onto the bed, trapping her with the weight of his body, yet she struggled relentlessly. “Babe, calm down, come on, it’s okay.” Managing to free her fists, she pounded Rick’s body, his back, chest, face, head, she was a wild animal, trapped, the survival instinct surfacing. He grappled again, catching the flailing wrists and gripping firmly, and this time he shouted figuring it was the only way to make her listen. “Okay! Enough already. I’ll help you, I’ll do whatever you need if it makes you happy.” He was relieved when the battering ceased instantly.

They both lay together, panting, sweaty, emotionally charged, minutes passing as the adrenaline ebbed from their bodies. Eventually Rick broke the silence. “So, are you going to tell me the plan?”