One Week in the Private House (3 page)

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OK,' she said,
^k
you can take the photographs. But only if I'm disguised. Gather my hair in a scarf, or something, and pull the scarf down over my eyes. I don't see how anyone could recognise me that way.'

This compromise was greeted with approval, and Rudi even managed to find a large square of black silk to match the rest of the tableau. Lesley was given the task of concealing Jem's hair and eyes, and while the girl's uncertain fingers gently tugged and prodded Jem's wayward curls, Jem felt Rudi's large, hot hands stroking her thighs and buttocks. She could no longer see: the black silk had been drawn across the bridge of her nose, beneath her ears, and tied at the nape of her neck. She was aware only of Rudi's left hand, moving in circles and dipping into the wet channel between her legs; of his hard member, teasingly entering her and then withdrawing; of his right hand resting on her right buttock, the thumb pressing insistently into her puckered anus. She felt Lesley's fingers toying with stray strands of her auburn hair and heard the creak of her leather boots, and smelt their spicy, sensual smell. She arched her back, and shuddered as the first small climax of the afternoon came upon her unexpectedly.

Rudi and Lesley moved away, and whispered together. Jem heard metallic clicks: Rudi was setting the cameras to shoot pictures at regular intervals. Then hands were between her legs again - not Rudi's hands, she realised, but Lesley's, with long fingernails that were following the contours of her outer lips, pulling gently at her pubic curls before smoothing them aside, opening her ever more widely. Lesley had big, soft lips with which she was now placing timid, velvety kisses on Jem's rounded cheeks; Jem felt her hot gasps of breath. Tm sorry, Miss Darke,' she heard Lesley stammer, 'but I've got to do it. This is where I'm going to whack you in a minute or two. I hope it doesn't hurt too much.' And, with much creaking of leather, Lesley installed herself on her knees behind Jem and began to lick and kiss every inch of the area she intended to punish.

In spite of the occasional click of a camera shutter, Jem began to lose herself in an ecstasy of little thrills. The sharpness of Lesley's fingernails combined with the insistent softness of her mouth to produce ripples of pleasure that spread from her outthrust bottom to the extremities of her limbs; and, when she tried to jerk her hands or legs in a sudden shock of pleasure, the unexpected reminder of her helplessness caused another tremor of guilty enjoyment. I'm tied up and at the mercy of the boss's secretary, she thought, and it's absolutely heavenly.

Something touched her face. A hand, Rudi's hand, lifting her chin. His lips met hers; she opened her mouth, her tongue twisting against his. He pulled away, but she kept her back arched and her mouth open, blindly inviting him to return. Then she smelt the salty, musky odour of his prick, and a camera clicked, and her lips closed round the huge plum. She started to move her head backwards and forwards, sliding her tongue from side to side against the twin curves of the underside of the helmet.

'Oh Jem,' Rudi breathed, 'Jem, that's bloody marvellous, but you've got to stop moving. I mustn't come until you've been thrashed. Lesley, for God's sake get on with it.'

Jem heard Lesley getting to her feet. Suddenly, her bottom felt very cold and naked, and for the first time she began to struggle against the bonds that held her knees and ankles. Almost for comfort, she started to suck the bulb of hot hard flesh that was fitting so perfectly into her mouth; but she stopped as she heard the whistle of thin wood cutting through the air. She waited for the pain, but the blow didn't fall. Lesley had merely been testing her weapon.

Til bet this stings,' Lesley said in a thoughtful voice. 'You know, you look really lovely like that, Miss Darke. All tied up and with a bloke's thing in your mouth, and showing off everything you've got. This is making me feel ever so sexy. This leather gear's all right, too, after a while. There's something nice about being dressed up too tight, with these chains and buckles, and all my bumps hanging out all over the place. I wouldn't mind letting someone have a go at me with this thing. I'll bet it stings like anything.'

Jem, hardly daring to breathe, felt the long cool strip of wood touch her right buttock, then her left. Then it slid between her cheeks, paused to pass back and forth across her arsehole, and came to rest in the cleft between her swollen labia.

'Can I whack her anywhere?' Lesley asked, and Jem's heart jumped to her throat.

'Yes, if you like,' she heard Rudi say, 'just get on with it. We're only doing this for the cameras.'

There were no more words; there was just another whistling rush of air, and Jem felt a stinging fire across her bottom.

She gasped, jerked her head forward, and almost choked as Rudi's rod of flesh slid to the back of her throat. He swore hoarsely and withdrew his member until only the tip was resting within the circle of her lips. Whispering reassuring words, he placed his hands on each side of her head to steady it. Unable to speak, see, move, or hear, Jem almost sobbed with relief as she realised that Rudi intended to employ all his much-practised skill to fuck her mouth as considerately as possible. She sucked on his familiar hardness and pulled it in to fill her mouth.

Another slashing pain stung her bottom. It was less terrible than the first. Another followed quickly; then another. Jem concentrated on the warm hardness in her mouth, alternating licking and sucking it, trying to encourage the little involuntary spasms that presaged its climax. And she tried to imagine the scene from Rudi's viewpoint: his massive member moving in and out of its favourite orifice; his lover naked, helpless and bound before him; his lover's buttocks striped, glowing, convulsing each time the thin rod thwacked against them; his eyes roving over the leather-clad body of the pretty girl wielding the rod.

Jem now scarcely felt the separate blows; her arse was an undifferentiated area of blazing fire, and the steady rhythm of the rod served only as a sharp repetitive impetus to the movement of her tongue.

Are they looking at me, she wondered, or are they looking at each other, smiling conspiratorially as Lesley's relentless efforts behind me result in Rudi's grunts of pleasure at my front end? He's going to come very soon, she thought, and although his hands suddenly tightened against the cloth over her ears, she heard him cry out.

The whipping stopped. Jem sucked hard. The shaft of flesh thrummed against her lower lip. And as the first spurt of Rudi's salty sperm shot into Jem's throat, Lesley produced her
piece de resistance.
Four vicious vertical strokes of the rod landed in quick succession, slicing into the valley between Jem's burning buttocks, the tip of the rod flicking into her wet and gaping sex. She wanted to scream, but all she could do was swallow the spurting floods of semen. Rudi withdrew and Jem allowed her head to drop; she cried out only weakly as Lesley administered a final six strokes to the underhang of each of her buttocks.

Some time later, Jem felt Rudi's strong fingers tugging at the velvet knots at her wrists. When her hands were free she tore off the black silk scarf and shook her hair. Lesley had gone; the cameras had gone. She cursed her hands for shaking as she pulled on her stockings and ignored Rudi's solicitous questions. She shrugged on her jacket, checked her seams, picked up her handbag and made for the door, followed by the pathetically pleading Rudi.

'All I have to say,' she announced as she opened the apartment's front door, 'is that I intend to get my own back on that girl.'

'I really wouldn't try anything like that, Jem old thing. She was only following her instructions.' Rudi seemed genuinely worried. 'And if you try to get your revenge on

her - Well, I wouldn't like to think of the consequences. I should steer clear of her if I were you.'

'Rudi, she works in the same building as me. Two offices away from mine. I'll see her tomorrow morning, assuming I can walk straight by then.'

'Oh dear. How was I supposed to know you'd know each other? It wasn't my fault -'

'Spare me. You were just following instructions, I know. You're crazy.'

'Will I - Will I see you again, Jem?'

'After this? Rudi, you really are crazy. This is goodbye.'

Day 2:
Monday

Inspector Lucy Larson, on her way to the police computer centre in Hendon, lounged on the back seat of the Rover Sterling. It was a long drive, and she had plenty of time to congratulate herself on her rapid rise through the ranks and into plain clothes, and on her choice of car and driver.

There is something special about cars with leather seats, she thought, tugging at her skirt so that the cool hide touched her skin above her stocking-tops. And there's definitely something special about young women in uniform. She studied the back of WPC Pritchard's neck, where wisps of long blonde hair, even lighter than her own, were straying from under the constable's cap. Lucy transferred her attention to the small hands, relaxed and confident, that held the steering wheel. She looked up to the rear view mirror, and watched the driver's eyes intent on the road ahead. Suddenly Pritchard's blue eyes flicked upward, towards the mirror, and their gazes locked for an instant.

'Constable.'

'Yes, Inspector?'

'I'm getting bored with this motorway driving. We have plenty of time. Take the next exit - we'll find a crosscountry route.'

'Yes, Inspector.'

Lucy liked to hear her driver's voice, with its soft Welsh lilt and slight lisp. She watched Pritchard's hands and eyes as the WPC took the car up a slip road, round a roundabout, and into a lane that ran between tall hedges. It was early morning, and theVe were few other vehicles.

'Watch your speed, Constable.'

'Sorry, Inspector.'

And there was certainly something special, and something sensual, about the combined sensations of speed and power. Lucy felt her erect nipples tingle, and a tickling between her legs.

'Pritchard.'

inspector?'

'Are you glad I picked you for secondment to my team, Constable?'

'Very glad, Inspector. Very happy. There's not much of an opportunity to get on in the valleys.'

'Nothing but traffic duties and occasional riot control, I imagine.'

'That's about it, Inspector. I've wanted to get more involved with crime detection ever since I joined the Force.'

'You sound like an old-timer, Constable. But you're just a kid.'

'I'm twenty-two, Inspector.'

'As old as that? You'll have to move fast to catch up with me.'

'But you're exceptional, Inspector, if you don't mind my saying so. An inspiration to all of us WPCs.'

is that so? Well, I'll help you to get along, Constable, if you perform well.'

'I'll do my best to please, Inspector.'

'Will you, now? We'll see. Let's stretch our legs, shall we. Take that road - the next on the left, through the woods. And pull up somewhere quiet.'

The Rover purred to a halt on a verge of dry leaves. Pritchard switched off the engine. Only the wind in the topmost branches of the surrounding trees broke the silence.

'Get out, Constable. Stand by the car.'

Inspector Larson stretched, and opened one of the rear doors. She ignored Pritchard, who was standing uncertainly by the bonnet of the car, while she reviewed her make-up and filed a fingernail. Leaving her handbag on the seat, she stood up to remove the jacket of her dark blue suit. At last she walked round the front of the car to face her driver.

it's getting hot already, Constable. You can take off your cap and your jacket.'

it's all right, Inspector, I don't mind the -'

Take them off, Pritchard.'

'Yes, Inspector.'

Tut them on the front seat.'

'Yes, Inspector.'

'Now then. That's better, isn't it? Unpin your hair.'

inspector?'

'Unpin your hair, Constable. That*s an order.'

Lucy watched WPC Pritchard's fingers fumbling with the hair clips, and felt a surge of sexual pleasure like a jolt of electricity as the long, near-white hair fell about the Welsh girl's freckled face. Pritchard's cheeks were glowing and she kept her big blue eyes downcast, not daring to meet the Inspector's gaze. But she knows what's going on, Lucy thought, and she knows she'll have to play the game.

'Now then, Constable.'

inspector?'

'You wouldn't like to have to go back to the valleys, would you?'

'No, Inspector.'

'Then we understand each other. Time for a clothing inspection, I think. If you and I are going to be working together - close together - you'll have to pay attention to the rules. I'm not lax about matters of discipline. I imagine I could be particularly strict with you, if necessary. So: everything by the book. Including the uniform. Unbutton your blouse, Constable.'

inspector, I can't -'

'Pritchard. That hair of yours is much longer than regulations permit. I don't want to have to make you have it cut off'

'No, Inspector. Not that, please.'

'Then get on with it. I want to see everything you're wearing.'

With a little sob that Lucy thought quite delightful Pritchard plucked at the buttons of her blouse. Then, at Lucy's impatient gesture, she held the garment open,