Hot Pursuit (27 page)

‘You know where Kitten is?' His eyes were suddenly bright with enthusiasm. He pushed himself forward in his chair, gripping the arms. ‘Where is she? Where will I find her?'

‘She's in the library. She's in the library of deeds.'

Grinning triumphantly, his mood shifting again with surprising ease, Donald helped Ginger's pet blonde from the floor and kissed her cheerfully on the forehead. ‘She's in the library of deeds,' he cried jubilantly. ‘Of course she is.'

Behind him a woman's voice said, ‘No she isn't.'

‘Ginger?' Donald gasped. ‘Have you come back?'

‘Come back?' Ginger grunted, with good-natured exasperation. ‘How could I come back? I never went away.'

Ginger sounded as though she was grinning but Lucy couldn't be sure. The redhead was behind her, holding her wrists and encouraging her through the candlelit gloom of the dining room's doorway. The pressure of the favourite's body pressed at Lucy's back and shoulder blades, constantly reminding her of the sexual excitement the woman was able to generate when she was at her bullying best.

A broad thigh perpetually pushed against her buttocks.

The thrust of hard muscle was darkly arousing and, coupled with Ginger's dominance, Lucy realised she was ready to surrender to whatever was demanded. The thought was darkly exciting but offered no promise of triumph after all her hard work of the previous three days. Angrily she tried to quash her libidinous response but being caught in a room with Donald and Ginger was more than enough to fill her with a thrill of sexual expectation. The idea that one of them would chastise her for the escape inspired conflicting responses of dread and desire and her one
regret was that Anne wouldn't be there to share the moment. She had grown fond of her blonde friend, and her constant supply of questions, and the idea that their paths might never cross again tainted Lucy's arousal with a shadow of sadness.

‘What's going on, Ginger?' Donald demanded. ‘What's happening here?'

Glancing back over her shoulder, Lucy caught a glimpse of the redhead's malevolent grin. ‘The runaway has been recaptured,' Ginger declared.

She pushed Lucy into the dining room and tugged the long leather coat from her shoulders in the same brisk movement. Lucy heard the garment being tossed aside and, from the corner of her eye, she saw it float into the shadows by the feet of Ginger's pet blonde.

Stepping to Donald's side, tossing the parchment scroll onto the table before him, Ginger said, ‘I caught her with this, in the library of deeds, and the chase is finally over. The runaway has been recaptured and now she's going to suffer my reprimand.'

‘Your reprimand?' Donald repeated. He ignored the deeds that had been thrown to him and a subtle smile played along his lips. Snapping his fingers for the pet blonde's attention he asked Ginger, ‘Are you going to be gratuitously unkind to her?'

Lucy closed her eyes, certain of how the redhead would respond. She had been a participant in this scene countless times before and knew the lines well enough. She was naked and vulnerable, at the mercy of her master and his favourite, and the pleasure was going to be torturous and inevitable. Again, almost as an afterthought, she wished Anne could be there to share the experience. Her new friend had shown such an avid interest in all things depraved and sadistic Lucy knew she would have revelled in a skilled performance from either Ginger or Donald.

‘Do you want me to be gratuitously unkind, sire?' Ginger asked.

Donald considered this as Lucy was led to a position before him. His frown was almost meditative as he stroked the head of Ginger's blonde and encouraged her to kneel between his legs. There was no need for a verbal instruction as he coaxed the pet to lower her mouth over his flaccid shaft, nor any need to tell her that he wanted licking to a state of erection. A tremor of obvious appreciation shivered through his shoulders and he settled comfortably back into his chair. ‘I think you should tit-bind her,' he decided. ‘Tit-binding will be a good place to begin. Tit-bind her first, then we'll decide how best to handle this stage of her discipline.'

Lucy glared at him. Bewildered, she shook her head. ‘I did it all for you, sire,' she whispered. ‘You know that, don't you? I did it all for you.'

Donald's bemused smile said that he either hadn't heard, or didn't understand. She considered repeating the words, and forcing him to listen, but there was no opportunity to clarify her point because Ginger was hauling her backwards and had snatched a convenient rope from the table. With practised ease, she began to wrap a length of rope around Lucy's breasts.

Inwardly, Lucy groaned.

The coarse hemp was like sandpaper against her sensitive skin and Ginger forced each loop so tight her flesh was squeezed with unbearable pressure. She glanced down and saw the shape of her usually pert breasts distended and turned vulgar by the punitive binding. Trapped blood turned her areolae dark red and made the silver rings of her piercings shine more brightly. Her nipples stood as hard as bullets and echoes of augmented arousal throbbed from each aching orb.

‘Stay still, bitch,' Ginger complained. ‘Stop fucking struggling.'

Donald winced at her exclamation but the redhead didn't seem to notice.

She grunted with the effort of tugging the rope tight before securing the end in a loose knot beneath the looped bindings. Her grin was infuriatingly triumphant and the sparkle in her eyes told Lucy that she genuinely believed she had won their personal battle. Knowing that her position was now inescapable, Lucy supposed Ginger was right to hold that belief. There had been a chase and the master's favourite of favourites had been the one to capture the prey. Gloomily, Lucy conceded that Ginger had won.

‘Is that tight enough?' Ginger hissed.

She caught a nipple between her finger and thumb, lightly teasing the rigid shape.

Lucy contemplated shrinking away from the woman, certain of what would come next, but she couldn't bring herself to avoid the punishment. When Ginger squeezed the tip of her breast, burying her fingernails behind the BCR that penetrated her nipple, Lucy could only tolerate the pain. She tried not to be won over by its infuriating thrill but that was a struggle she knew she could never resist. The blistering swell of excitement left her weak and she was dizzied by the sudden rush of tortured arousal. The throb that had been pounding through her breasts beat like a demanding pulse.

‘How about that?' Ginger growled. She spoke through teeth clenched as tight as her fingertips. ‘Is that tight enough? Or could you bear it a little tighter?'

Beyond the pull of her body's growing need, Lucy was struck by an eerie sensation of dejà vu. She was certain that she had been through this experience before and realised she was now suffering again for
no advantage. The last few days looked like they had been a wasted effort and she cursed herself for not making more of the opportunity that had been within her grasp. Fixing her master with a pained expression, wishing he would see and take note of her sincerity, she said again, ‘I really did do it all for you, sire. Surely you know that? I really did.'

Donald closed his eyes as the pet blonde sucked his erection to full hardness. She slurped her lips wetly around him before chasing his length with the tip of her tongue. An expression of bliss had crept across his features and Lucy was galled by the paradox of the situation. For the first time since she had been brought into the dining room, Donald now looked approachable but, at the same time, he was clearly languishing in a place that she couldn't reach.

Ginger squeezed harder on her nipple until Lucy gasped and dragged her thoughts away from Donald and the blonde. The anguish in her breast was so severe she couldn't contain the cry and, as soon as it was torn from her throat, it carried easily around the hollow acoustics of the stone-walled room.

‘Don't make me gag you,' Ginger warned. She finally released her hold on the nipple and pushed Lucy toward the dining table. With a clumsy sweep of her hand, she cleared a space amongst the platters of fruit, cold cuts and chains. Pewter plates and empty wine glasses clattered noisily away and a wooden butt-plug fell to its side and then rolled lethargically back and forth. Ignoring the devastation she was causing, Ginger forced Lucy face first across the table top. ‘I don't want to put a gag in your mouth,' the redhead assured her. ‘That would definitely go against my plans.'

It took no effort for Lucy to read the subtext to what she was being told. Ginger didn't want to gag
her because she was looking forward to making her victim scream. Leaving her mouth accessible would also give the redhead scope to punish Lucy with further humiliation. The prospect inspired a curdle of electric excitement in the pit of her stomach. More a prisoner of her own perverse needs than Ginger's cruel torment, Lucy closed her eyes against the threat of frustrated tears and allowed herself to be bent over the table.

‘I don't want to gag you,' Ginger insisted. ‘But I will if you cry out again. The master doesn't need to hear your pathetic fucking mewling.'

Donald's elation was temporarily interrupted by a stern frown but Ginger didn't notice the subtle sign of his displeasure. With vicious force she urged Lucy to bend her knees then dragged her further onto the table.

Fighting the impulse to make herself heard, Lucy refrained from begging or crying out. She was obedient to Ginger's crisp instructions and inched her torso across the dining table while she raised her backside ready to be spanked. The shift in balance meant her breasts were squashed against the rough-hewn surface but she accepted that discomfort without complaint. Her nipples were pricked by splinters from the untreated wood and each blister of pain brought a new facet to her delight.

The redhead slapped and pushed at her thighs until Lucy knew she had been goaded into a position that was both painful to her aching breasts and obscenely vulnerable in the way it displayed her sex. Her legs were spread wide apart and the flesh of her pussy and anus had been pulled rudely taut. It crossed her mind to protest, to try and find some way to defer this punishment until she was sure they understood her motives for escaping, but Ginger gave her no opportunity to speak.

‘That's it!' Donald decided.

The whisper of their master's voice made Ginger and Lucy both glance in his direction. The blonde between his legs had the full length of his shaft in her mouth and her cheeks were dimpled with the exertion of sucking. Her full, strawberry lips were stretched wide to accommodate his thickness and her eyes were glassy with adoration. Meekly, and without letting his erection spill from her mouth, she switched her gaze from Donald, to Ginger, then back to the master again.

Donald slapped his hand against the table, sending a shiver rippling through the wood. Its echoes trembled against Lucy's breasts and reignited the discomfort of the timeworn surface. She raised her head to glance at him and saw he was holding himself motionless.

A faltering smile hung on his lips as every muscle in his body became tense.

Ginger's pet snatched a hefty gulp of air.

With a heavy sigh, and a familiar groan of satisfaction, Donald relaxed and sat back heavily in the chair. Stroking his fingers through the pet's blonde hair, his grin grew broader as he whispered, ‘That was lovely.'

She swallowed. A small trickle of his spend dribbled over the pout of her lower lip. Greedily, she chased the white fluid with the tip of her tongue.

Donald grinned at her and said, ‘That was quite, quite lovely.'

Ginger puffed her chest out, as though she was the recipient of the praise, then slapped a hand against Lucy's backside.

The blow was sharp, unexpected and left a bright red glow in its wake. Unable to contain the sound, Lucy groaned as the first wave of arousal clutched her in its thrall. From the corner of her eye she saw
Ginger raise her open palm ready to administer another brisk slap and Lucy caught a breath in anticipation. The lips of her pussy seemed to quiver, as though they were eager to suffer more, and she heard the metallic jingle of the piercing rings from between her legs.

‘Before you commence with Kitten's reprimand . . .' Donald started lazily.

Ginger hesitated and Lucy wondered if this would be an opportunity for her to tell her side of the argument. She struggled against the impulse to speak, not daring to interrupt their exchange while Donald was addressing the redhead, but she couldn't completely quash the prospect of hope. The last three days had taken a lot of work and effort and the thought that they were only going to earn her this punishment left Lucy close to tears of frustration.

‘Before you reprimand her,' he began again, ‘I'd like to know why you think you should escape punishment?'

Ginger's jaw worked soundlessly for a beat but it only took a moment before she had regained her composure. Smiling demurely, managing to feign an innocence that was chillingly convincing, she fluttered her eyelashes for the master and asked, ‘Do you think I deserve punishing, sire?'

Lucy held her breath and waited for his reply. Intuitively she knew that the opportunity to tell her own side of the story was coming and she urged herself to be quiet until the right moment presented itself. If she said the wrong thing at the wrong time she didn't doubt Ginger would use a gag and then there would be no chance of making the master understand why she had run away.

‘You've behaved reprehensibly over the last three days,' Donald told Ginger. His stiff tone was calm
and understated but no less menacing because of that. ‘You've ignored my instructions. You've acted as though you have your own free will. And your behaviour as a pony-girl this afternoon was tantamount to insurrection. I repeatedly called you back and you refused to obey. What makes you think you can behave like that and avoid disciplinary action?'