Lust on the Loose (18 page)

A door opened
behind him and Imogen emerged dressed in a skintight leotard of
shiny vermilion and black leggings. Her hair was tied back off her
head in a ponytail. She wore no makeup and the colour was high on
her cheeks. The tight lycra moulded every contour of her lithe
body, compressing the full mounds of her breasts into large concave
saucers, emphasising the gentle dome of her stomach and stretching
in an enticing vee between her legs clearly delineating the bulge
of her pubis. She was breathing hard and her chest rose and fell as
she panted. She looked like a wholesome, hearty schoolgirl fresh
from a brisk frolic on the playing fields.

'Sorry,' she
said, 'I hope they told you I was in the gym.'

'So this is
how you keep yourself fit for the rigours of business,' said Billy.
'I'm impressed.'

'You should
try it,' said Imogen, grabbing a glass of orange juice from the
table. 'Why don't you have a little workout right now?'

Billy began to
protest but there was no denying the firm pull of the hand that
grasped his and drew him to his feet. For a moment he stood his
ground.

'Come on,
Billy, some healthy exercise is just what you need.

He followed
her out of the door, his eyes glued to the taut lycra stretched
across the perfect moons of her trim bottom as she walked ahead of
him down a flight of stairs into the bowels of the large house.

Imogen's
basement was remarkably well-equipped for a private gymnasium.
There were two kinds of exercise bicycle, a rowing machine, a
complicated device with rectangular weights for arms and legs and a
sound system that filled the room with raucous, breathy rock at the
touch of Imogen's elegant finger. She led him to a separate shower
and changing room where she rummaged in a cupboard and produced a
towel and some sports clothing. She handed them over with a curt
instruction to 'get changed'. There was no turning back.

Moments later
Billy presented himself in a white sleeveless vest and a skintight
pair of egg-yolk yellow leggings that finished just above the knee,
hugging his thighs and buttocks, and moulding his cock and balls
against his stomach as precisely as vacuum-packed delicacies on
offer in a supermarket chill cabinet. Imogen eyed him frankly and
he was uncomfortably aware that every bulge and curve of his body
was on display - as indeed was hers.

'We'll get you
warmed up then,' she announced and immediately broke into an
energetic stretching routine to the rhythm of the music. Billy
followed her lead, as was obviously expected. Imogen was a stern
taskmistress - and a very fit one. Notwithstanding her previous
workout, she was eager to expend more energy and she spurred Billy
on with a demonstration of testing aerobics, slapping his chest and
buttocks, straightening his legs and pulling on his arms and
otherwise urging him to put more oomph into his efforts. Billy
began to blow hard. In truth he was not much of an athlete. He had
the natural strength and energy of youth and was pretty adept at
dodging the traffic, running up escalators and shinning down
drainpipes. But as for hard physical exercise concentrated over a
period of twenty minutes - that was a different story. Already
there was a burning stitch in his side and his breath was coming in
quick shallow gasps as he strained for air.

He remembered
this kind of agony from a time some years distant in his previous
life as a City dealer. He had joined the firm's health club in an
effort to get to know a female colleague better on the squash
court. But Clarissa's dancing tits and twitching derriere had
remained tantalisingly out of reach, both on the court, where she
had left him for dead, and in the shower afterwards - where she had
kicked him in the balls and left him writhing with the cold water
full on. He had sworn off hearty birds ever since.

By now Imogen
had mercifully brought a halt to the physical jerks and he was able
to snatch a few deep breaths as she manoeuvred him into the rowing
machine. The respite was shortlived. He was soon putting his back
into it as required, keen to make as good an impression as possible
this side of utter exhaustion. The thought that he might score in
the shower this time spurred him on.

Obviously his
efforts were paying off, for Imogen was smiling at him as she urged
him on.

'That's more
like it, Billy. I only have fit, strong workers on my team. Which
reminds me, I've got another little job for you.'

Billy cocked a
quizzical eyebrow. He couldn't speak. 'Last time we spoke I was
impressed that you were able to put your finger on my main problem
with the Gala programme - Brick Tempo. He's flying into London
tomorrow and I want you to look after him for me.'

Billy's stroke
faltered and Imogen laid a hand on his arm and indicated that he
could stop.

'I'm putting
him up in the flat above the office while he's in London. You'll be
staying there too.'

'Christ,
Imogen, you're not asking much. He's a legendary hell-raiser. He
used to trash hotels with Keith Moon.'

'He's slowed
down with age. He's still alive, after all.'

'If half the stories are true then
I
might not be very soon. Why is he
appearing at the Gala anyway?'

'Candy
insisted. She lost her virginity to his first hit.'

'Blimey.'
Billy pondered this information. 'She must be older than I
thought.'

Imogen patted
his back, urging him to his feet. 'That's settled then. Excellent.
Now I think you need a quick session with the weights and then a
shower and a sauna will set you up a treat.'

Her cools
hands on his skin - how could they possibly be so cool? - were
nectar to his senses as she arranged him horizontally on the most
fearsome of the machines - the one with weights at the head and the
foot. It had straps, too, which she now buckled tightly, pinning
him around the chest and waist. As she fastened the waist strap she
turned down the top of his pants to cinch the broad belt tight,
pushing the flimsy material down almost to his groin.

At that moment
a door opened and Imogen grinned. 'You've turned up just at the
right moment,' she said to the new arrival. 'Your victim
awaits.'

And the
inverted figure of Katie Crisp swam suddenly into Billy's vision.
Her severe features gazed down on his captive form with evident
satisfaction.

'Well, well,'
she said, 'this looks like my lucky day.'

In the normal
course of events Monday morning is undoubtedly the least exciting
time of the week. This particular Monday morning was no exception
in the lives of the many; in the lives of the few, however, it
provided an introduction to activities never before experienced -
such as bondage sex.

Billy Dazzle was one such novice, yet another was Patsy
Fretwork. At the same time as Billy lay imprisoned in Imogen
Almond's aerobic torture chamber, Patsy Fretwork was rendered
similarly immobile in the main cabin of the
Princess Patsy
as she lay at the mercy
of her newfound friend and lover, Pandora Britches.

She lay face
down along the length of a small wooden bench, her hands and feet
bound together with silken cords beneath the seat of the bench, a
pillow under her stomach thrusting her naked arse high up in the
air, affording Pandora unrestricted access to the most delicate and
delightful portions of her anatomy.

Patsy could
not see what was being done to her and yet it felt delicious. She
could not cry out, for her mouth was stuffed with a rubber bung,
yet she did not care. The sensation of being tied down, forced
against her will to submit to Pandora's blatant manipulations was
unbearably exciting. She felt something hard and solid probing at
the lips of her pussy, at the same time something soft and slippery
began to circle the tight ring of her arsehole. She forced herself
to relax...

Pandy had
begun the session by dribbling cool body lotion along the knots of
Patsy's spine and into the exposed furrow between her buttocks.
Then she had gently smoothed the ointment into her body, easing
away her tensions, giving her time to adjust to the notion of being
at another's mercy. By the time she had finished, Patsy had been
lulled into a sense of security, trusting those strong and gentle
hands which had now covered almost every inch of her flesh many
times over.

The first slap
had been a shock, like being suddenly awakened by being doused in
cold water. It didn't exactly hurt, however, and there were kisses
and caresses too. More smacks had followed on her upturned
buttocks, but not in quick succession, Pandy allowing some seconds,
even minutes, between each blow so Patsy could never guess when the
next would fall. She found herself perversely looking forward to
each stinging assault and the glow which spread afterwards through
her flesh, in particular the warmth which was growing ever fiercer
between her legs.

By now her
cunt was on fire, thrust up and open, the lips quivering in the air
begging for attention - and yet Pandora ignored it. Patsy was
quaking with desire, aching for the void between her legs to be
filled. It was strange. No man had ever made her feel like this.
Though she knew this adventure with Pandora was simply an excursion
away from the mainstream and her dreams would still be full of
stiff and plunging willies, now she gave herself up utterly to the
other woman. She would have begged for a cuntal caress if only she
could have spoken. The rubber stopper between her teeth, like a
great baby's dummy, served only to soothe her as she bit down on
it, flinching from the blows on her behind. She thrust her pelvis
down but the soft pillow prevented her from gaining any pressure on
her aching clit. She strained up into the empty air as far as she
could, silently begging for satisfaction.

Then came the
bigger slaps, with something hard, maybe a slipper. It made a
whistling sound as it descended and a crack as it smacked across
both buttocks, causing her whole body to twitch and writhe. She bit
down hard on her gag as a moment of fear suddenly penetrated her
cocoon. But then Pandora's face swung into her limited vision and
smiled at her. She kissed Patsy's brow and soothed the back of her
neck in reassurance and then - at last - the journalist had set to
work on her cunt.

Now she was in
sight of orgasm, with the big hard rod of the dildo insinuated deep
inside her pussy and the fluttering featherlike touch of Pandy's
fingers on her clit, teasing and titillating. The warm glow from
the slaps and spanks she had received had spread throughout her
body. From the waist down she was on fire and she knew she would
soon come off - coming as she'd never come before, not even with
Danny at the height of their passion (thought that had been
different, of course). She was completely at the other's mercy and
she didn't care. It was out of her control, not her fault - she was
guiltless. The pleasure was absolute and once Pandy pushed her over
the edge she knew it would go on and on and on and...

'Steady on,'
said the captive Billy as Katie Crisp slotted some evil-looking
metal weights into the grooves by his shoulders. 'I'm not used to
this sort of exercise, you know.'

'Don't worry,
Billy,' said Imogen, reaching for a towel and rubbing her face and
neck briskly, 'we know just the kind of physical exertions you
like.'

'Eh?'

'Push!' barked
Katie and Billy strained obediently against the bar across his
chest. The weights struggled up a few inches.

'Harder!'
commanded Katie and Billy pushed with all his might, lifting the
dead weight upwards.

Imogen had now
loosened her hair and was towelling it roughly. Suddenly she
slipped one arm out of her leotard and pulled the garment down to
dry her armpit. An amazed Billy found himself staring directly at a
firm pear-shaped breast which wobbled deliciously as she
rubbed.

'Again!'
ordered Katie, prompting him to lift once more. He managed it more
easily this time, did it without thinking, his gaze fully focused
on the shuddering globe of flesh that rippled enticingly just a few
feet away.

Imogen
shrugged the other tit free, pulling the leotard down to her waist.
She smiled at Billy as she did so, seemingly unconcerned by his
open admiration. His view was suddenly blocked by the large and
almost naked backside of Katie Crisp as she bent over to adjust the
weights by his feet. In his amazement he registered that she, too,
had stripped off and was wearing just a pair of scanty panties cut
high on the thigh and revealing a rounded expanse of plump bottom
flesh.

'Bend your
knees,' she ordered. He did as he was told. 'Now straighten them.'
And he found himself straining against two levers beneath his feet
which acted on the weights she had been arranging. He laboured to
please her, his mind in a turmoil, as he took in the half-naked
women in front of him.

Katie now
stood beside the seated form of Imogen. Her breasts were small and
high, the nipples long, pink and, it seemed to Billy, disturbingly
erect. Out of her severe solicitor's garb she was more heavily
built than he had suspected. Her thighs were strong and full, her
hips rounded and curvy, her belly domed and sloping. The mound of
her cunt was barely covered by the thin material of her flimsy
white briefs and a dark tangled mass of pubic hair sprang out from
the gusset. Despite the physical exertions he was enduring he was
once more definitively erect.

Imogen patted
Katie's near-naked rump and said, 'I think he likes you,
darling.'

'I think he
likes both of us. But he's the kind of lecherous swine who'd fancy
my granny.'