To Disappear (6 page)

‘She tasted…’ Lydia faltered, ‘I don’t know. She tasted salty, but also sweet.’

Preston made a clucking noise of disapproval, his fingers moving to the tiny buttons that ran the length of Lydia’s cotton dress, and with precise agility he began to undo them and expose her breasts to the heated gazes of the two other men. He cupped their firm softness in his palms, flicking his thumbs over her hard nipples as if to draw attention to her arousal.

‘Come now, Lydia,’ he urged, ‘you can do better than that.’

Lydia gasped with dismay when Preston’s fingers continued on their route down the buttons, and within seconds he had undone every one down to the hem, leaving her front fully exposed.

She winced, her face burning with shame as he slipped his hand between her thighs and sniggered with delight when the evidence of her excitement coated his fingers. He drew her thighs apart, sliding his fingers into the dampness of her sex again, circling around the throbbing nub of her pleasure.

‘I-I… she tasted like sun-warmed beaches,’ Lydia stammered in a desperate attempt to stop him from manipulating her to another shameful orgasm. ‘Like sand and sunshine and flowers touched with morning dew.’

‘Mmm,’ Preston murmured, ‘just like you, I would imagine. And what did you do after you’d collapsed onto the bed with her?’

Lydia went very still when his words penetrated her lust-fogged mind. Slowly she turned to look up at him, her heart lurching when she saw the smug expression on his face. ‘I didn’t tell you we’d got onto the bed,’ she said, tensing as she tried to will away what was already apparent.

Preston smiled. ‘You didn’t have to,’ he disclosed. ‘I saw you together.’

‘No…’ Lydia closed her eyes against the confusion and shame of what he was telling her.

‘Oh yes,’ he confirmed. ‘Do you remember, Cassie’s little brother had a tree house in that fine old oak in their garden? When I discovered her parents would be out of town, I climbed up with my binoculars in the hopes of seeing her naked, and you can imagine my delight when I got far more than I bargained for.’

‘You bastard,’ Lydia twisted away from him, fumbling to close her dress as she started to shake with indignation. Disgust rose to choke her throat as her night with Cassie suddenly seemed sordid with the realization that Preston had intruded. ‘How dare you spy on us? What kind of a shit are you?’

Preston shook his head and tutted again. ‘Language, Lydia, really.’

Fury coated Lydia’s world in a hazy mist, and before realizing what she was doing she slapped his arrogant countenance, instantly leaving a red imprint on his cheek.

Preston was visibly shocked by the speed and ferocity of the unexpected assault, and then a mask of anger froze his features. He grabbed for her, but she eluded his grasp and ran out the French doors to the garden, clutching her dress together.

She ran as far and as fast as she could as if the very devil himself were chasing her, and then she sank down under the drooping branches of a weeping willow, her chest heaving as she gasped for air, trying to rid herself of Preston’s revelation as if it were a squalid nightmare from which she might wake up.

She collapsed onto the grass, burying her face in her arms, silently sending apologies to Cassie for having betrayed their secret… although now she knew it wasn’t a secret, and the knowledge that their wonderful private moment had been sullied by Preston’s intrusion sickened her.

She didn’t know how long she laid there, but a hand on her shoulder startled her out of her despair. She lifted her head, her eyes glazed with tears behind a veil of silken dark hair.

‘That was a dangerous move, Lydia,’ Gabriel said. He sat on the grass beside her, not moving his hand from her shoulder.

She turned away from him, hugging herself for some small comfort. ‘I don’t care,’ she grumbled.

‘You know he’ll punish you.’

‘I don’t care. He would have anyway. He’s depraved.’

Gabriel was silent. A breeze rustled through the willow tree, causing the slack branches to sashay back and forth in a seductive, gentle dance. The pungent scent of grass and fresh air filled Lydia’s senses. She closed her eyes, and an unbidden thought appeared in her mind, one that imagined how it would be to leave this place, to simply walk away and never look back.

‘You can’t,’ Gabriel whispered, seeming to voice the response to her unspoken question.

Lydia turned back to him. ‘I know I can’t,’ she acknowledged, and gazed at him for a moment, sinking into the emerald depths of his eyes, watching the sweep of a breeze through his black hair.

‘What did you mean?’ she asked. ‘When you said I have to be
La Lierre et le Chêne
?’

‘Ivy and oak,’ he said, his fingers brushing her forehead, stroking away a lock of hair. ‘Pliant and strong. Manageable and unyielding. Compliant, docile, but also inflexible. You have to adapt and surrender, and yet no one can take from you an inner core of pure strength.’

‘I don’t think I have one.’

Gabriel looked saddened. ‘Lydia,’ he stressed, ‘of course you do.’

‘Then why am I here?’

‘Because you wanted to retain control of your life.’

‘But I don’t have any control here.’

‘That is not true. You only think you don’t.’

Unbidden memories of yesterday appeared in Lydia’s mind; an image of how she must have looked stretched over Kruin’s lap with her buttocks flaming, on her knees between Gabriel’s legs, sucking his penis.

A horrible, sordid sensation threatened to engulf her. God, she was as depraved as they were, if she derived pleasure from such things.

And there was no denying that she had derived pleasure from them.

Lydia turned her face away from Gabriel again, feeling the damnable flush of shame creep over her complexion.

He was no better, she reminded herself. He’d left her last night to wallow in her own wantonness, her inability to resist the undeniably delicious things they did to her. He had only wanted to confirm their expertise in making her succumb whether she wanted to or not.

Gabriel stood, brushing loose grass off his trousers. ‘Come back with me,’ he said, offering her his hand, and she accepted it.

They passed Kruin on the veranda, and his stare said more than words ever could, singeing into Lydia like a firebrand. She felt like a wayward child who had misbehaved and was now required to await punishment for her wrongs.

At his curt instruction she went into the house, her heart beginning to pound hard as she entered the library.

Preston was waiting for her, his thighs propped against the oak desk, his eyes narrowed as he watched her approach. He nodded towards an armchair, and Lydia lowered herself into the plush comfort of it, suddenly wishing she hadn’t previously behaved so rashly.

Preston rapped out an order, and Lydia’s fingers flew to the buttons of her dress. She unfastened each tiny disc again, revealing her nakedness to him once more, her legs parted in symbolic invitation, her skin gleaming with sweat from the haste of her flight. Preston’s blue eyes raked over her, lingering at the savory apex of her thighs, spread for his viewing.

A tight smile twisted his mouth. ‘You think I’m going to punish you now, don’t you?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Do you think you deserve it?’

Lydia’s eyes flashed, but she nodded.

‘I’d like to do it now, of course. However, I find it far more interesting if one is required to wait. I think you’ll be far more inclined to be compliant if you know that a punishment is awaiting you, and that I might choose to carry it out at any time.’ He smiled again and rubbed his palm against the front of his trousers. ‘The mere thought of it excites me.’

He approached her chair, stopping in front of her so that she was at eye-level with the bulge in his crotch. She fought the urge not to recoil, suddenly wishing for the presence of Gabriel or even Kruin, for she did not relish the idea of being alone with Preston in any capacity. Her fingertips dug into the velvet arms of the chair, her body tensing as Preston reached out to flick his fingers over her nipple.

‘Come now, Lydia,’ Preston said, ‘I won’t punish you today, but I do think you owe me something for having acted the way you did.’ With that proclamation lingering in the air he unzipped his trousers, releasing his penis, which quivered for release. He grasped the root of the stalk in his hand, leisurely stroking the stiff member up to the tip, from which a pearl of moisture began to leak.

Apprehension lit in Lydia’s eyes, causing Preston to smile. Although he was not quite as well endowed as Gabriel or Kruin, they both knew he had an edge over her that the other two men lacked.

‘You were always so proud, weren’t you, Lydia?’ he said.

‘Was I?’

‘So proud that you wouldn’t fuck around when we were younger. They all talked about you, you know, how untouchable you were, how haughty. I remember a bet once; who could touch your cunt first. The problem was that no one could decide on how to prove the winner.’

A sick feeling of loathing rose in Lydia’s throat.

‘I suppose none of us would have won in the end, would we?’ Preston continued thoughtfully, his hand still sliding up and down the stout stalk of his penis. ‘After all, you were too busy sucking lovely Cassie’s pussy, weren’t you?’

‘Christ, Preston, I hate you,’ Lydia complained.

‘Do you?’ Preston scoffed mildly. ‘So do you want to leave here, then?’

Lydia fought to regain control over herself, her breathing hard as defiance raged in her. She stared at the swollen member in front of her face, trying to somehow distance the organ from the man who possessed it. She closed her eyes, and an unbidden reminder of the means by which she had arrived at this place returned to haunt her. She had been overconfident; she thought she was covering her tracks so cleanly that no one would ever unearth her as the culprit embezzler. And this, here, now, was her lengthy punishment, her exile from the world.

A heavy silence hung around her as she opened her eyes and parted her lips.

Preston smiled as he nudged the knob of his prick into Lydia’s gorgeous mouth. Dribbles of semen coated her tongue, and she closed her lips tightly around the throbbing hardness of his shaft. Her tongue laved the underside of his penis as his hands clutched her head and he began to thrust indulgently in and out of her mouth.

A glorious merriment filled him as he looked down and watched the movement of his rampant erection pumping between the pouting red lips of his captive, making his loins twitch at the thought of the glistening lips farther down. How he had always longed to fuck her there, longed to sink his stiffness into her and thrust for as long as he could until splendid rapture claimed him.

The thought cast his senses into a maelstrom as he pulled his saliva-wet shaft out of Lydia’s mouth and commanded her to perch on the desk. To his intense gratification she did, even pulling up her dress and spreading her legs to reveal the damp folds of her sex, the delicate morsel of her clitoris protruding forth as if begging to be touched, and Preston was only too delighted to comply, for although he intended to punish her for her infraction, he was not averse to her obtaining some pleasure for the time being.

In fact it made their situation all the more intriguing, as she would be obliged to struggle with her distaste of submitting to them, while at the same time unable to deny the physical pleasure she received at their hands.

Lydia’s breathing came in rapid pants as Preston began to massage the receptive button with his fingertips, everything in him thrilled at the sight of proud Lydia spread out on the desk like a lamb at a sacrificial altar, her pale skin burnished with perspiration, the tight buds of her nipples standing proud from the soft swell of her breasts.

But before she reached her climax Preston desisted. Lydia’s eyes opened, her chest heaving.

‘Ah, Lydia, not so regal anymore, are you?’ he goaded.

She didn’t respond, but her lips compressed with displeasure and apprehension. She began to close her legs, but he pressed his hands between them, against the silky flesh of her inner thighs.

‘Oh no,’ he said, his voice laced with menace. ‘And especially not in front of me, Lydia. Don’t even think of it.’

A tremor ran through her as she stared at him with wide eyes. Preston’s penis ached. He longed to envelop himself in her cunt, but he clenched his teeth and forcibly restrained himself.

He leaned over her, his breath against her face as he whispered, ‘You were more of a little sensualist than you ever let on, weren’t you?’

Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. ‘W-what are you talking about?’ she asked timorously.

‘What other activities did you engage in when we were younger?’

Lydia’s mouth tightened. ‘That’s none of your business.’

Preston grabbed her by the chin, his fingers digging into her cheeks and he forced her to look at him. Rage tightened every muscle in his body as memories of their youth flooded his mind. ‘How dare you,’ he hissed. ‘You’d better watch yourself, Lydia, or you’ll be out on the streets before you know it. Is that what you want? Do you want to escape from the investigators on your own? I’d be more than delighted to sit back and watch that happen, if for no other reason than to see how far you get. And we both know,
darling
, that it won’t be very far at all, don’t we?’