The Voyeur (13 page)

‘Do you know what is happening here today, girl?’

Clara’s voice was muffled as she spoke into the sofa cushions, the secretary’s bony backside digging into her spine. ‘Cricket final.’

‘It is a bit more than that, young lady. This is the team’s chance to reclaim the trophy that is rightly ours. A trophy we would have won if a certain Mark Parker’s appalling playing hadn’t ruined our chances last year.’

Then, with Clara still beneath her, wondering what on earth Ms Hill was talking about, the secretary pulled her mobile phone from her pocket. ‘James, would you be so kind as to bring one of your associates and come to the kitchen? I have something I need carrying to the office, please.’

* * *

Mark stared directly into Anya’s eyes, willing her to trust him as he continued his explanation, ‘I agreed – in exchange for relief from payment of my bet – that I would take you away and train you to be both an excellent PA, and sexually obedient to any whim your employer might have.

‘Like a fool, I had already confided to Sparrow my idea of making a list of 13 challenges designed to satisfy my voyeuristic tendencies. Being a gambling man, Sparrow immediately saw how he could benefit from my intentions to find two women to work with; and so, to amuse his own similarly voyeuristic peccadilloes, he came up with an additional facet to our agreement.

‘Not only would I agree for you to be one of my fantasy women, but he would get to see each video I made of every challenge. If you made it through all 13 scenarios without pleading for any of them to end before I was ready then I could keep you and all of my business. But if you, at any time, gave in, then you would have to return to his employment – and not only would I lose you, but half of my business as well.

‘Of course, when I asked you to find Clara I hadn’t envisaged that you two would – well, form such a strong bond.’

With the mention of her lover, Anya’s head snapped toward her desk clock. ‘When do we have to leave?’

Mark glanced at his watch. ‘Now, I think perhaps we should continue this conversation in the car.’

Anya picked up her holdall and, without hesitating, walked purposefully to the door. ‘Well, come on, then. Fuck knows what that horrible woman is doing to Clara!’

Chapter Fourteen

‘So let me get this straight.’ Anya sat back against the soft cream seats of the limo, and secured her seatbelt. ‘If I do everything I am asked – take whatever is dished out, however awful – then I get to stay with you, and you get to keep all of Parker Software?’

‘Exactly.’

‘But if I can’t take it – if I break down and plead to be excused the task – then you lose the bet?’

‘Yes.’

‘And I assume Clara is part of the deal as well. She must not fail either?’

‘Actually, no. As far as I’m concerned, she is outside the deal. After all, I employed her as part of my fantasy list, and not because of the bet. If Sparrow has assumed Clara is part of the deal, then he is very much mistaken.’

Anya sighed, relieved that at least she didn’t have to worry about Clara losing her job on top of everything else. As she stared blankly at the Oxfordshire countryside zipping past the window, she said, ‘I have no choice, do I? I don’t want to work there again, and no way do I want you to lose your business. I love my job –
every
part of it – and if I go, that bitch Candice will be on the next flight from the States, spreading her legs and begging to be your new PA!’

Despite himself, Mark laughed. ‘You are something else, Miss Grant.’

‘Yes, I bloody well am!’ Anya felt more in command of herself than she ever had in her employer’s presence. ‘And when this is over – whatever
this
is – then what? What happens to Clara and me?’

Mark placed a hand on her leg, and ran it up under her skirt, making her lean back against her seat. ‘I will make another list.’

‘With new women?’ Anya realised she sounded calm rather than anxious, as Mark’s fingers stroked at the satin underwear between her legs.

‘No. With you and Clara – assuming you both wish to stay.’

Enjoying the minor shift in the balance of power, Anya closed her eyes as his palms sent quivers of lust through her, ‘That,’ she said, breathing unevenly as he finger-fucked her wet channel, ‘will depend on what happens today.’

Re-pocketing her mobile phone, Ms Hill climbed off Clara’s back. ‘Get up, bitch!’

The blonde obediently rose to her feet, but, knowing the importance of keeping her mouth shut at such moments, said nothing.

‘Take off those clothes. All of them’

Clara moved with practical grace, taking some private pleasure from the obvious hardening of the secretary’s nipples beneath her thin silk blouse. Immediately, Ms Hill twisted the temporary caterer around, and scraped a sharp fingernail along the line of tasks written across Clara’s pale back. ‘Hold your hands together.’

Grasping her palms in front of her, Clara did her best to concentrate on anything other than how good Ms Hill’s skin felt against her own.

Slipping her hand between Clara’s legs, the older woman squeezed her snatch. ‘We have four hours until the match. I intend to have some fun, then you shall have an hour to rest before Mark’s Fantasy 13 really begins …’

It had been a long day. Naked, with her hands bound before her, Clara had failed to sleep on the sofa in the hour she’d been given to recover herself prior to what the secretary kept calling “the main event”.

Ms Hill had spent hours playing with Clara’s tits, clit, and arse. Over and over again she had bought Clara painfully close to exploding point, but never allowed her the ultimate physical fulfilment she so desperately desired. This humiliation and frustration was compounded once James and Craig arrived and carried her, making sure they touched as much of Clara as they could without triggering her orgasm, from the kitchen into Sparrow’s study, where the team had arrived early to discuss last-minute tactics.

‘Ah, Miss Hooper.’ Dr Sparrow regarded Clara approvingly. ‘I trust you are well rested?’

Without waiting for a reply to his question, he turned to the team. ‘Part of your prize, gentlemen; hopefully not your consolation prize. Far more rewarding than just a cup, I’m sure you’ll agree.’ Every eye bored into Clara, and despite herself, she could feel her body responding. Craig smiled but said nothing.

Dr Sparrow turned to Ms Hill. ‘If you could place her in the changing room, we will go and win this cup.’

The prospect of defeat hadn’t entered anyone’s head as the team walked past her, each man making sure he brushed Clara as they went by. The last man to leave the room, Craig bent forward and whispered in her ear. ‘A worthy trophy indeed.’ He nodded to Ms Hill and went out to work for his prize.

Opening a drawer in Sparrow’s desk, Ms Hill produced a blindfold. Bringing the silky darkness down over Clara’s eyes, she then led the fearful housekeeper by the hand from the office. Feeling disorientated, lost, afraid, and extremely turned on, Clara couldn’t stop thoughts of Craig taking her like he had only the other day filling every corner of her mind.

Eventually, after what felt like an age of being dragged around a maze of corridors, Ms Hill pushed Clara into a chair. ‘We are in the changing rooms. Cricket is a long game. Rest a while. Do not move. I will return.’

Clara, however, had other ideas. She had questions that required answers. Like where the hell was Anya? And why wasn’t any of this being recorded for Mark to watch later? Although maybe it was – just because she couldn’t see a camera, she reasoned, didn’t mean there wasn’t one there.

She also needed satisfaction, and she had a score to settle with the smug woman before her, who’d tormented her for so long. Without pausing to think, Clara yanked off the blindfold, grabbed Ms Hill, and held her close. ‘Can you break the rules, madam?’ Her eyes challenged her captor as Clara opened Ms Hill’s blouse, freed her tits and, with the memory of Craig’s manic fucking in her mind, attacked them with a hungry mouth. Clara kissed, kneaded, slapped, and flicked the vulnerable teats. ‘How wet are you?’ she muttered into Ms Hill’s ear. ‘How damp is that tight little pussy?’

Ms Hill pressed her lips firmly together, determined to keep some vestige of self-respect. This beautiful girl was unwittingly fulfilling all her fantasies. This was what she had longed for Anya to do all those months ago, if only she’d been experienced enough to read the signs. The secretary began to sigh as Clara pushed up her skirt, ripped off her stockings, and then simply turned and walked away.

Ms Hill had been prepared for almost anything; but she certainly hadn’t been prepared for nothing. She could see Clara at the desk searching for something. What is she looking for? Why is she taking so long? She knew she had misjudged this young lady, but she wasn’t yet sure if she was glad or not.

Clara had seen what she was looking for straight away, but had decided to let her captive sweat for a while. She grabbed the club ties she had seen and returned to her willing victim. Securing the secretary’s hands and feet to the chair, Clara licked her out with enthusiasm. She felt power sweep through her as Ms Hill moaned softly, ‘A bit more; a bit more …’

Relishing the almost pleading tone that was escaping from the other woman’s lips, Clara suddenly asked, ‘Where is Anya?’

Sworn to secrecy, Ms Hill didn’t reply.

Clara pinched the woman’s clit with her sharp nails. ‘And where is Mark?’

Again the other woman said nothing.

‘Well, if you won’t tell me, then I won’t let you climax. Actually –’ Clara rose to her feet, already understanding that this woman would never answer her questions ‘– I think that will do, madam. Perhaps I should rest as you so wisely suggested.’

Although personally still restless and unfulfilled, as Clara let the secretary go, undoing the ties that bound her to the chair, she felt a huge thrill at reducing Ms Hill to her own condition, knowing that all the men were far too busy to come to her aid.

Temporarily confused, the secretary quickly regained her composure and gathered up her clothes. Replacing Clara’s blindfold, Ms Hill bound her hands to the point where Clara thought her circulation might be cut off, before leaving the room without another word.

The entrance hall was spookily quiet as they pushed open the heavy wooden double doors that separated Bridge’s gentleman’s club from the outside world. Anya looked at her employer. ‘So, where do we go?’

Unsure if he was pleased with, or worried by, the new steel in his PA’s voice (but certain it would help her through the trial to come), Mark responded by pulling out his mobile phone, and while texting at top speed, said, ‘I am letting them know we have arrived. There should be someone coming to greet you shortly. Wait here.’

As Mark walked away down the corridor he said, ‘Good luck, Anya. Try and remember all that you have learnt over the last few months, and that I am on your side – although there may be times this evening when you find that hard to believe.’

Watching him disappear into Sparrow’s study, Anya felt the weight of Mark’s departing words combine with the knowledge of his confession on their drive from Oxfordshire. If she wanted her life with Clara to continue in Mark’s odd but satisfying employment, then whatever was around the corner, she was going to have to face it – and win – no matter what.

Anya felt angst-fuelled goosebumps cover her skin as she remembered her short time at Bridge’s. I can survive Fantasy 13. I know I can. The fact that it is being held here is merely geography! As she lingered, Anya thought back to all she’d experienced with Mark; and, if she was honest, how much she’d liked it all. Fantasy 12 in particular had been brutal. Anya’s body began to shiver with the frisson of memory of the wooden dildo that had been fastened to her face as she’d sat on all fours on the floor of Discreet, when she became aware of footsteps approaching.

She had been expecting the blood-chilling tap of Ms Hill’s high heels, but it was Craig. Ready to go onto the cricket pitch in his pristine whites, he strode toward her, a smile of pure devilment on his face. His eyes glowed with something that hinted very much at his intention to degrade the woman he’d been sent to collect.

‘Miss Grant – you will accompany me, please.’

Anya remembered the first time she had seen the pitch behind the building that housed Bridge’s. She never failed to be amazed at how you could be in one of London’s busiest thoroughfares one minute, and be surrounded by sports fields or parkland the next. From her position in the stands, she could see across the pitch to the shadow of the London Eye.

Pointedly sitting near the entrance to the cricket ground, observing the team out on the pitch, Anya felt strangely lost. She’d assumed she would be stripped and secured to the seats – but Craig had simply told her to sit and watch the match, and
not
to move.

Mark hadn’t reappeared, and Anya’s imagination as to what might be happening to Clara was almost off the scale. Yet Ms Hill could clearly be seen perched upon a similar seat to her own, on the opposite side of the stand, which meant she couldn’t be torturing the housekeeper, and Sparrow stood directly behind her, watching the game over his secretary’s head, so Clara was very probably being held somewhere on her own.

Trying to regulate her breathing, keeping herself as composed as possible, Anya observed the male figures as they moved round the pitch, playing the incomprehensible game that is cricket.

The match halted for tea and still Anya sat, time passing at a snail’s pace. With every draggingly long second she could feel her anxiety and desire rising. Her knowledge of cricket was slim, but from the tension in the air, and the studied expectant look on Ms Hill’s face, she was sure the game must be nearly over, and that the final score was close.

At last, a cheer rose from the Bridge’s club members, which told Anya more than she could comprehend from the bizarre scoring system. They had won. The Bridge’s Cup, which Mark had somehow lost for them at the last minute last year, belonged to the club once more.

Craig, who had scored the winning run, along with his teammates, shook hands with the defeated team, before pointing them in the direction of the dining room for the post-match feast. Then, when only the Bridge’s men remained on the grass, he turned to Anya and, without a word, beckoned for her to join them in the very centre of the pitch …

Clara only realised she’d been asleep when she felt herself being hauled up and pushed back against a hard surface. Leaving her blindfolded, Ms Hill freed her wrists, only to retie them to what the housekeeper presumed to be nails in the wall. Clara felt a moment’s bliss as a finger began to trail, snake-like, up her leg. It almost reached her need, when it was cruelly withdrawn. ‘You like that, don’t you, you dirty bitch? Well, I’m in charge again now. And I say you don’t deserve an orgasm.’

Gathering up Clara’s hair, Ms Hill pulled it hard, and stuffed it into a team cap. Without her hair around her shoulders Clara felt more vulnerable than ever. Then a tongue took her by surprise as her exposed ear lobe was nibbled, the light sensation making her tingle within her clit.

She could feel movement around her limbs. Cricket pads were being strapped to her lower legs. Hands came to Clara’s nipples, pinching them tightly, but, after a glorious second of pressure, all the attention stopped and Ms Hill removed the blindfold.

Blinking in the light, Clara found she was not against a wall after all, but tied to a changing room bench looking out across the pitch. She could see distant figures heading inside, but even from her elevated position she couldn’t work out which team was which. Ms Hill stared at her. ‘You had better hope that they won, hadn’t you?’

Clara watched through the window, her stomach churning at the thought of what might happen next. Any time now the team would come in and find her. She trembled, but she wasn’t sure if it was fear or anticipation that stirred her soul. As she stood there, unable to do anything but think, Clara’s musings became more and more explicit. Will I have to take all 11 men? How will I cope with that? Will they just fuck me, or beat me as well? Will they want to watch me fuck Anya? Anya? What the hell is happening to you right now?

Abruptly, Clara was torn from her thoughts. Voices could be heard coming from the next room. Clearly the team were celebrating. She felt a stab of relief. Surely whatever was to come would not be as bad as if they had lost?