Seven Scarlet Tales (17 page)

‘You spanked her in the changing room?’ Rob sounded impressed.

‘Yep. Remember that, Lucy?’

She cringed a little at the recollection.

‘Everybody heard,’ she said.

‘Mmm,’ said Richard, apparently reliving the scene. ‘You can wear that tomorrow.’

‘I’m in for a busy day then,’ she said happily, snuggling.

‘What do you think about tomorrow, Richard?’ asked Rob. ‘Are we on the same page enough to play a double-hander, do you think?’

‘What, top her together, instead of in turn?’

‘Yeah. I think we can read each other pretty well. Should we give it a go?’

‘I don’t see why not. What do you think, Lucy?’

Lucy bit her lip. ‘I think that’s the scariest thing I’ve ever heard. And also the hottest.’

‘That’s settled then. So, if we’re going to be up to fun and games tomorrow, we ought to think about getting some sleep.’

Rob removed his arm from Lucy’s shoulder, looking over at the staircase.

‘Oh! Sleeping arrangements!’ Lucy remembered that
there was one double room and one single. ‘Who’s going to take the back bedroom?’

Rob and Richard looked at each other. Nobody volunteered. Nobody spoke. Nobody blinked.

Lucy woke up the next morning dimly conscious of the rain still falling, as it had done in her dream. Her limbs were pleasantly sore from last night’s exertions, but not so much as to put her off getting up to more mischief today. Her back passage was still a little stingy from Richard’s vigorous use of it, but the effects of the strapping were long gone, her bottom cheeks back to pristine condition. Her pussy, she realised straight away, was wet and felt empty, needful of attention.

Who would be able to help her out with that?

On her right side, Richard lay, sprawled on his back with his limbs all akimbo, exhaling little half-snores at the ceiling. His eyelashes were long and sooty-black on his cheek and his morning shadow darkened his chin like a drawn-on beard. He looked so boyish in sleep, so unlike the elegant, rather autocratic man she knew by day.

On her left, Rob was curled up in a foetal ball on his side, and his more youthful face was noble, like a marble knight on a cathedral tomb, straight-nosed and full-lipped.

She kissed first Rob and then Richard. Rob woke immediately, his eyes shining into life, while Richard muttered and twitched and turned over.

‘I’m not having that,’ said Lucy, wriggling into a spoons embrace with Rob, letting his hand wander down her hip and between her thighs while the other cupped her breasts.

She began to massage Richard’s shoulders, bending forward to breathe hot kissing breath on the back of his neck.

He sighed and shifted, then twisted his neck to face Lucy, his eyes momentarily confused.

‘Oh, we’re here,’ he said. ‘That’s right. Morning, Robert.’

‘Morning,’ said Rob, laconic as he pushed his fingers between Lucy’s pussy lips and rubbed her clit.

‘Is this a private party or can anyone join in?’

Lucy moaned and rubbed her head back against Rob’s chest.

‘Nothing’s private when you sleep three in a bed,’ said Rob. ‘Get stuck in.’

Richard’s fingers joined Rob’s, another hand at her breasts. She reached forwards and wrapped Richard’s morning glory in a curling embrace, squeezing and pumping the shaft. In the meantime, Rob’s cock insinuated itself between her bottom cheeks and eased up and down in the crack.

Lucy came first, her tongue tied up by Richard’s, her genitals thoroughly invaded by two sets of fingers, then Richard; then Rob finished himself off inside Lucy’s pussy from behind, while Richard stroked her breasts and sucked her nipples.

‘Happy new world,’ yawned Lucy, and it certainly seemed like it.

Mile after mile after mile of green, dotted with white puffs. That would be the sheep.

Emma looked away from the train window, needing to find something less monotonous to fix her attention on. It didn’t matter what, as long as it calmed the nerves raging in her stomach.

She couldn’t concentrate on her book, though, hearing a different voice in her head, locking the poor author out.

It’ll be fine, it’s an experience anyway, even if you don’t enjoy it after all. Allyson will be there. She can read you: she’ll know if things are going too far.

She shut her book, and looked back out at the suffocating green.

Who would the other people be? Both men, she knew that. But would they be men she had played with before, or total strangers?

She rewound the conversation she had had with Allyson, the pair of them sleepy after post-spanking sex, about her fantasy. She could have left it at that – a kinky dream. But she should have known that Allyson was all about fulfilling
such dreams, and it was well within her power. She knew everyone, and guarded a slew of secrets of the Rich and Famous. She only had to snap her fingers and whatever she asked was done.

It’s ridiculous to be nervous. You’re an old hand at these kinds of games.

But then, the nervousness was part of the fun.

The train began to slow and Emma thought she might be sick.

She took her overnight bag down from the rack and slipped quietly into the toilet cubicle. When she came out, there was one little addition to her outfit – an ID pass clipped to her coat lapel.

And thus Emma Frayne, resting actor and sometime sex worker, became prisoner thirty nine.

She looked out for Allyson on the platform, but there was no sign of her. She must have sent one of the others. As her fellow passengers slowly filtered through the station exit, she scanned the place for likely characters.

It was him. It had to be the man in the blue serge uniform.

She stood with her back to the wall, trying to be unobtrusive, wondering why he didn’t come over straight away. Perhaps it wasn’t him then, which would be strangely disappointing. He was rather attractive, in a burly, whiskerish kind of way.

The mystery was solved when another man came out of the gents’ toilets and spoke to Blue Serge. This new man was somebody she recognised: she and Allyson had played with him before. Not at the club either; they had gone to his home, which was a prime piece of property porn. He was that banker. Richard, was it?

This was more than satisfactory. She’d fantasised about
him more than once since that intense and pleasurable weekend, and had vaguely hoped they might meet again.

With the platform now empty, it was safe for the pair to approach her.

‘Prisoner thirty nine?’ asked Blue Serge, giving her a blatantly lecherous once-over.

‘That’s right,’ she said, trying to sound brave. It was remarkable how quickly she could fall into this meek, craven mindset.

‘You’d better come with us.’

Blue Serge put his hand around her upper arm and led her out behind Richard, who had neither spoken nor looked at her.

Unexpectedly, the car wasn’t in the station car park. Instead they walked on, down a long single-track road that led away from the town to some woodland. It was perfectly dark and deserted and quite silent, except when another train flashed by, all warm light and distant people: people going to safe places; people she should perhaps envy.

Richard stopped abruptly. It took Emma a moment or two to realise that a car was parked under a nearby tree. She didn’t know much about cars but this one looked expensive.

She was still eyeing its silver sheen when Richard turned and began addressing her.

‘Prisoner thirty nine, you have accepted a place on the government’s new Short, Sharp Shock disciplinary programme in preference to a longer custodial sentence in an ordinary prison. Could you please confirm for me that this is the case?’

‘Er, yes, it is,’ she mumbled, startled by how convincingly Richard adopted this pitiless, judicial tone.

‘Good. You will be with us for a weekend, and I think you must realise that it isn’t going to be a luxury mini-break. Hmm?’ He raised an eyebrow.

‘Yes, yes, I realise that,’ said Emma.

‘When you speak to me, or any other member of staff, you will be respectful and call us ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ at all times. If you forget, you’ll incur punishment, is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Now then, first things first. Blake, get the uniform out of the boot. Prisoner, remove your clothes.’

‘What? Here?’ She looked around wildly. Nobody was around, or likely to be, it was true, but – ‘What if a train comes past?’

‘What if it does?’ said Richard laconically, while Blake snorted over by the car. ‘You’ve broken two rules already, my girl. Failure to use the correct honorific, and failing to obey a direct order in a timely fashion. If I were you, I’d start making up for that right now.’

I can say ‘Colditz’ and all this will be over. I can go back to the station and … No.

Emma looked up at the night sky, clouded and vast. A dream was coming true. She bit back a smile and took off her jacket.

She bent her head, avoiding the eyes of Richard and Blake, who watched her every move with grim satisfaction.

Off came the jumper, off came the jeans, the denim rucking around her pale legs. She looked back at the railway line as she stepped out of them.

Nobody was there.

The night air played, lewd and cold, about her bare skin and she shivered and hugged herself.

‘Underwear too,’ clarified Richard.

She gasped and gave him a quick pleading glance, which he rebuffed, folding his arms.

She unhooked her bra and put it on the ground with the rest of her clothes. The cold made her nipples stiffen with a pang until they felt unbearably tight.

‘Underwear is a privilege,’ said Richard as she peeled down her knickers. ‘You haven’t earned it.’

Now that she was fully naked, Blake stepped forward with some white material over his arm.

‘You’d better put it on her,’ advised Richard.

The low rumble of an approaching train made Emma jump in alarm and hold out her arms to Blake.

He put the thing on her. It was a kind of shift made of a heavy canvas-like material that felt coarse and aggravated her nipples. It fastened all the way down the back with large hooks and eyes, leaving a long split of bare flesh in the middle where the metal clasps met. The area around her bottom was cut away, rendering it permanently bare.

Blake was clipping the hooks and eyes together when the train thundered past. The way they were standing meant that nobody could have seen anything but a woman in an odd white dress, but Emma still wailed and tried to cover her bottom with her hands.

Blake pushed them roughly away and slapped her bottom hard.

‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s forbidden for you to cover it.’

‘That’s right,’ said Richard. ‘While you’re with us, your bottom will be bare at all times. In fact, it’ll be a number of other things too, including red and sore, but bare in the basic necessity. Now, we have those two rule breaches to deal with. Bend over the bonnet of the car, please.’

The temptation to plead was almost overwhelming, but Emma knew that it would only end up the worse for her, so she trotted obediently to the vehicle and bent, palms down, over the sleek, silvery surface.

‘Two lessons,’ said Richard, stepping up behind her. ‘Respect and unquestioning obedience. Learn them well.’

He commenced dealing a hard and fast spanking, peppering both cheeks with painful rapidity. Emma, although no novice, found his devastating technique became difficult to bear very quickly. She was able to swallow her squeals, but the squirms were unstoppable, shameful for a woman who prided herself on being able to take very long, very severe punishments.

She didn’t want to beg, but really, if he didn’t slow down soon …

Luckily, he seemed to tire of his high-octane performance after a minute or so. He ordered her to her feet, frowning at the palm of his hand.

‘See what she’s done to me, Blake,’ he said.

Blake sucked in a breath. ‘You’ll need to be bringing out the heavy stuff,’ he said, shaking his head.

‘Well, we have plenty of implements,’ said Richard. ‘Every single one of which is going to make its acquaintance with that bottom. Now, into the car with you. Blake? Sort it out, please.’

Emma felt Blake’s hand on her warm bottom, pushing her towards the back seat of the car. Once she was inside, feeling the leather upholstery cool and smooth on her chastised skin, Blake produced a pair of handcuffs and locked her wrists together.

The journey was passed in silence. It seemed even Richard, for all his vast wealth and contacts, hadn’t been able to get hold of a real prison wagon. This luxury car didn’t quite project the right mood, so stern and concentrated reflection was required, to keep the mindset in place.

Emma was dying to ask Richard about his new girlfriend. Allyson had said they were getting quite close. She’d also said that he shared her with another dom. What would it be like,
Emma wondered, to be in that kind of relationship, with two lovers who cared for you? She felt a twinge of something.

Stick to the motto, Em. ‘You can tie me up but you can never tie me down’.

The cottage was much more rustic and charming than she’d imagined. She’d thought of a blank-fronted, grey stone chiller of a place, high on a slate cliff. This was a pretty haven nestling in some foothills. Still, it was hard to find exactly what you wanted, she supposed, and none of them were professional location scouts. Like the car, the cottage would have to be reframed by her imagination.

‘Let’s have you,’ said Blake, gruffly, pulling her out of the back seat and marching her towards the front door, Richard leading them once more.

They had to duck under the lintel. There, at a desk in the living room, sat Allyson, in a perfectly tailored dark skirt suit, looking over some papers.

‘Ah,’ she said, looking up, ‘new arrival. Thirty nine, is it?’

It was unsettling, Emma thought, how Allyson could fake complete unrecognition. Even she found it difficult, and she’d been to RADA.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ she whispered.

Richard and Blake lurked over her shoulders, casting a shadow of forceful authority.

‘I’ve been looking over your records, thirty nine. They make very disturbing reading.’ Her stare hardened, and the mouth Emma had kissed so many times was set in a straight, cruel line. ‘The same words keep coming up over and over again – spoilt, selfish, wilful, insubordinate. You’re from a good home, but you’ve brought disgrace on your family, who spent thousands on your education only to have you throw it back in their face. You’re here because you were caught
on CCTV performing a lewd act on some random stranger in a public place. You had to plead guilty, in the face of overwhelming evidence, but you still tried to worm your way out of it by offering sex to pretty much everyone involved in the case, from the arresting officer to the judge. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?’