Hot Pursuit (5 page)

‘Wait,' Donald commanded.

Ginger released her hold on the butt-plug.

Lucy expected her sphincter to close and expel the intruder like some shameful act of public evacuation. Glumly, she realised it must already have been inserted past one of its ridges because it remained
nestled inside her backside, weighing heavily against the intimate flesh of her anal canal. Caught on the brink of relief Lucy faded effortlessly from consciousness to a realm of pure, painful joy.

‘I've decided what I want to say to her,' Donald beamed. ‘Stand her up, put her in front of the table.'

With swift obedience, Ginger did as she was told.

Lucy allowed herself to be manipulated, no longer caring about the shame or indignity of her position. A part of her was wary about what Donald planned to do and say because she knew he was capable of a cruelty that could make Ginger look benevolent. But, because she was tied, cuffed and too drained to retaliate, all she could do was allow Ginger to pull her from where she was slumped and stand her in front of the table. Being erect made her more acutely aware of the butt-plug filling her backside and she struggled not to be won over by the fresh fury of exquisite responses.

‘You've been a naughty Kitten tonight,' Donald said stiffly. He collected two items from the table and studied them thoughtfully. ‘You were asking me for favours this evening and, while I'm usually generous enough to grant favours, you haven't proved yourself worthy of earning any so far.'

If she hadn't been wearing the ball-gag Lucy would have argued she had proved herself more than worthy of one small favour but, even if she had been able to speak, she doubted Donald would have listened. He was holding a rusty-looking metal staple in one hand and testing the weight of a mallet in the other. The glint in his eyes said he had come to a decision. Nodding at Ginger the master said, ‘Put her rings on the table.'

Lucy tried to back away but Ginger held her in place by shoving a knee in her back. The redhead's
calf caught the edge of the butt-plug and knocked a spasm of raw excitement through her over-stretched anus. Ginger fumbled briefly against Lucy's cleft, removing the merciless weight of the clamps and letting them fall heavily to the floor, then she was tugging and pulling on the tormented folds of Lucy's labia.

Still trying to break free, Lucy groaned and attempted to turn away.

Without any effort, Ginger pushed her back to the spot where the master wanted her. The dining table was on the same level as Lucy's groin but the redhead made a show of how much effort it took to stretch her pussy lips over the edge of the rough-hewn wood. With no regard for sensitivity or kindness, she forced Lucy's sex to kiss the table top as she spread her labial piercings.

Ignoring Lucy's reluctance, Donald placed the dusty staple over her piercings. The sharp prongs of the metal sat within the circle of each ring and he held it between his finger and thumb. The weight of his hand teased against her pubic curls.

Seeing what he intended to do, Lucy shivered with mounting dread.

‘Prove yourself worthy of a favour,' Donald said affably, ‘and you might be lucky enough to receive one. But, continue testing my patience, and you'll discover I have a dark side to my nature. It's a dark side that may sometimes come across as being quite unattractive. I'm sure it's a side you wouldn't want to encounter.'

Without another word he hurled the mallet down.

Lucy held her breath. She expected a roar of agony to explode from her sex lips. There was a stiff reverberation as the table trembled beneath her but there was none of the ferocious pain she anticipated.
Sweating with relief and torment, she glanced down to see what he had done. The staple was embedded in the table and it held her labial piercings against the wood.

‘Remember what I said, Kitten,' Donald told her. He brushed a tear from her cheek and his smile was momentarily kind. ‘You're only in a position to ask for favours when you've proved yourself worthy of meriting them. Think about that and see if it doesn't give you some ideas for how to atone for your sins.' He placed a gentle kiss on her brow before bidding her goodnight and escorting Ginger and her blonde pet from the room.

Lucy barely heard his words, sobbing with the relief of a fresh orgasm. When she did get the chance to dwell on what he had said, she realised there was only one logical thing for her to do.

The following morning, when Donald and Ginger entered the baronial hall, they were surprised to discover Lucy had gone.

Anne glanced furtively up and, once again, the woman's gaze met hers. Blushing madly, embarrassed to have been caught watching the watcher, she hurriedly looked away.

She was sitting in a window booth of the motorway service station and eating an insipid chicken dinner. Her coffee sat by her plate, cooling and untouched save for a sampling sip that had warned her not to bother with the rest. An uninspiring eclair waited as her prize if she managed to consume all of the alleged chicken but the bland food was forgotten when she realised the brunette really was staring at her. Flushing crimson – not sure why she felt embarrassed, only aware that self-consciousness was a hot brick in her guts – Anne made a point of staring blindly through the window.

Brilliant sunlight sparkled off the windscreens, bonnets and mirrors of the bustling vehicles outside. Families, couples and business-types ambled to and from the motorway service station. Carefully landscaped greenery hid the majority of passing traffic and, if it hadn't been for the constant whine of speeding engines, the scene might have appeared tranquil. Yet Anne saw none of this as she thought about the woman who had been looking at her.

She had noticed the brunette as soon as the woman entered the restaurant. Her long, all-concealing trench coat, combined with a pair of high-heeled boots, made her stand out from the summer crowd in their shorts, T-shirts and sandals. Each time she stepped through the front split of her coat she revealed a tantalising glimpse of bare thigh and, without knowing where the thought came from, Anne suspected the woman was entirely naked beneath the garment.

Not that it was her out-of-season clothes alone that made her stand out. Admittedly she was attractive – with a svelte frame and sleek, raven locks flowing down her back, she held herself with a cultivated deportment – but Anne thought there was more to her appeal than just her appearance. After an age of struggling to work out exactly what had captured her interest, Anne eventually realised she was simply noticing the woman's abundant sex appeal.

‘My name's Lucy. Perhaps we can help each other.'

When she looked up she was horrified to see the brunette had joined her in the booth. Not sure where her fear came from she glanced around the ensemble of disinterested diners, wondering if any of them were aware of what was happening. When she dared to glance in the brunette's direction she was stunned to notice the woman was even more beautiful close up. Her complexion was flawless and her high cheekbones gave her face a beauty that was striking and almost austere.

‘My name is Lucy,' she repeated. ‘Did you hear me say that?'

Anne nodded.

‘And, do you think we could help one another?' Lucy asked. She placed gentle fingers on the back of Anne's hand and arched a eyebrow questioningly.

The subtle contact and the knowing enquiry shook her body like an electric charge. Anne glanced around again, sure that someone had to have seen what was happening and would notice or say something.

‘I . . . I don't know what you mean,' she stammered thickly.

‘Of course you know what I mean,' Lucy sniffed with good-natured derision. ‘You've been ogling me ever since I walked in.' She held up a hand to counter Anne's protestations and shook her head briskly. ‘I don't have the time to be coy. You've been ogling me since I came into this place and I think we might be in a position to help each other.'

‘How . . .' Anne started. She swallowed down her nervousness and began again. ‘How do you think we can help one another?'

‘You can provide me with a warm meal and clothes, can't you?'

Anne considered this request warily. The woman had said ‘clothes', instead of ‘a change of clothes', and that subtle distinction reminded her of her earlier suspicions about what she was wearing beneath the trench coat. The thought was blackly exciting and she answered quickly before her mind could dwell on images of the brunette's naked body. I guess I could do that,' she allowed.

Lucy nodded as though the answer settled everything. ‘You can do that for me, and I can give you the sex you're looking for.'

The words stabbed her with a blow of dark, urgent arousal. Anne wanted to feign outrage and decry the suggestion that she was sexually interested but she wasn't sure she could do it with any real conviction. Events were unfolding in a way she had previously only dreamed they could happen and the sordid proposition was like something from one of her most lurid fantasies.

She wanted to say no. She wanted to berate the stranger for approaching her, and then explain how the proposition was an indignity to every heterosexual bone in her heterosexual body. But it was easier to think those thoughts than say them. ‘I'm not sure that . . .' she started. ‘I mean . . . I don't think I . . .'

Lucy shook her head again, causing whispers of dark, feathered fringe to spray across her brow. ‘I told you there's no time for being coy,' she said crisply. ‘You don't look like the sort who normally picks up strange women in motorway service stations, so I can understand you have reservations. But I can see you're interested in me. And you must have noticed I was looking at you. Do we have a deal?'

And you must have noticed I was looking at you
. . . The words reverberated through Anne's mind, creating their own stir of excitement. While she had worried her interest might have been seen as intrusive or unwanted she now knew the woman had been studying her with the same lascivious intent.

Panicked by what she was thinking, Anne shook her head and snatched her hand away from the table. She had dreamt about something this outrageous happening but she had never expected it to occur. It was wrong to believe that the timing and the place were ideal – it was wrong to remember she was miles away from home, friends and family, and had the free time and the inclination – because those thoughts were just tempting her to accept Lucy's depraved invitation. She knew the most sensible thing to do would be to simply refuse and say she wanted to continue eating her meal in private.

‘Where?' she croaked. ‘Where could we go?'

The brunette's slow smile was deliriously seductive. She picked up the chicken drumstick from Anne's plate and began to gnaw on it. Her ripe lips enveloped
the flesh as her brilliant white teeth tore strips of meat away from the bone. ‘You're not local?'

Anne shook her head. She thought of explaining about her unscheduled holiday, the two-man tent folded into the boot of her car and the sights she intended seeing over the next fortnight. But, rather than spoil the moment, she simply waited for the brunette to speak.

‘There's a motel attached to this place isn't there?'

Anne didn't know for sure but it sounded likely. She had only stopped to fill her car with petrol and get a meal before journeying onwards.

‘Why don't you book us a room in the motel?'

‘Should we go now?' Anne asked, starting out of her seat.

‘May I finish this first?' Lucy replied, nodding at the food.

It was only polite to let her eat the remainder of the meal and Anne spent a torturous quarter hour sitting and watching. She squirmed on her seat, anxious to get a motel room booked before the rational part of her mind stepped in and stopped her from behaving so outrageously. She was also anxious to get out of the service station's restaurant because she felt certain her sexual arousal was emanating from her like a radioactive glow. She glanced nervously at the other diners, sure someone must have noticed the change that had come over her, but no one was even looking in her direction.

‘What's your name?'

‘Anne.'

‘You're excited by the idea of what we're going to do, aren't you, Anne?'

Anne trembled in her seat, wondering how the woman could ask such a ridiculous question. ‘Of course I'm excited,' she agreed. ‘Aren't you?'

Lucy stripped the last of the chicken from the drumstick and seemed to take more satisfaction from its flavour than Anne would have done. ‘I'm excited,' she decided at length. ‘Would you care to feel how excited?'

Before Anne could respond, before she realised she was taking the first step on a path she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to tread, the brunette had taken hold of her wrist. Pulling her arm across the table, pushing the hand inside the chest of her coat, she placed Anne's fingers against the swell of her bare breast. The orb was marvellously warm and yielded to Anne's tentative touch.

It came as no surprise to discover she had been right about what Lucy wore beneath her trench coat. It was more of a shock to discover she could sit in a moderately busy restaurant and casually grope a bare breast. Enchanted by the alien sensation, dizzied by the thought of what she was doing, Anne dared to stroke and squeeze the pliant flesh.

‘Do I feel excited to you?'

Lucy was staring at her and Anne was lost in the mesmerising depths of her dark eyes. It didn't matter that she was in a public restaurant and sitting beside a window. It didn't matter that any of her fellow diners could easily turn around and see that she was shamelessly fondling another woman. The only things that existed were Lucy's easy smile and the inviting warmth of the breast in Anne's hand.

‘Do I feel excited?'

The thrust of a nipple swelled in Anne's palm. The sensation alone would have been dizzying but, as the bud of flesh hardened against her, Anne could feel it was penetrated by a ring of metal. Her eyes opened wide when she realised what she was touching and she quickly pulled away. She held her hand as if the fingers had been burnt.