Chilled by the implicit threat in my captor's words, nonetheless, I keep talking. "What are you going to do with me? Ransom me? Is that it? You want back the money you stole in the first place?"Mack swings around again to look at me. This time the car almost comes off the road. "I told you. Shut it."He drives to a less appealing part of town; old abandoned warehousing and industrial units. The area is depressing, with very few people apart from a couple of what look like homeless types, curled up in sleeping bags atop, or under, old cardboard boxes. Broken bottles and hypodermic needles are scattered over the ground. No reputable person is going to wander here accidentally. Do they intend to hold me prisoner here? In this awful place?Mack pulls up at the back of an old warehouse, brick-built, run down and empty, several stories tall, but long unused and falling into disrepair. Broken windows access black spaces and pigeon nests. The remains of an old hoist and winch groans in
... he reaches, grasps the top of my panties and is about to pull when...There is a wailing noise, eerie and strange as it echoes around the room, but to me as welcome as sunshine after rain. The cavalry has arrived...... at last.The sound of police sirens reverberates around us.Konner dashes to the window, peering down through clouded glass and cobwebs, then says. "There's police cars out there. Lots of them. The building's surrounded."Fury washes across Mack's face, followed by confusion. Adele's expression is apoplectic."How?" she demands. "How did they find us?"They both look at me. Relief washing over me, still sick to my stomach but nonetheless relieved, I say "You figure it out. You're neither of you all that bright, are you?"Bafflement on both features. "Did it occur to you that mobile phones these days do a lot more than make phone calls? Of course, my friends know where I am. They only had to trace my phone signal."They still both look blank. "It's
My Master steps over the threshold, carrying me in his arms. My huge white meringue of a dress catches on the handle, and he struggles through the door with me and it together. I giggle, as he makes complex manoeuvres trying to get himself, me and the dress all through the door together."Welcome home, Mrs Haswell," he says. Smiling, running his hand over the bodice of my wedding gown, his deep blue eyes are almost glowing. "You look beautiful in this dress, Elizabeth. But on the whole, I think I want to get you out of it."Sucking my lips in anticipation, "Yes, um, I think you're going to have to help me." The dress is boned, buttoned, laced and cinched in tight.He looks the dress over from all sides. "Er, yes, I see what you mean. Not so much a dress as a construction. How did you get into it?""Francis helped. She did up all the buttons at the back. And the laces."He starts at the back, pulling at laces, trying to loosen the bodice. After several unsuccessful minutes,
After long moments, the layers of silk, gauze and lace encasing me are pulled back and I emerge from my dim white tent, blinking a little in the sudden explosion of light. My Master eases me upright, turns me to face him, lifts me and carries me through to the bedroom, where he deposits me gently on the bed.As he unknots his tie, stripping off his shirt, he smiles down at me. "Don't worry. I wasn't about to ravish you again just yet.""Of course not, Master. We'll give it five minutes or so shall we?"He chuckles as he lies down next to me, his head cradled in the crook of my neck. "Of course, yes. Foolish of me. Five minutes."His arms lock loosely around me. "I Love You, Elizabeth Haswell.""And I Love You too, Master."*****"So where are we going?" I am excited. My Master, my new husband, has kept me in the dark as to where we will spend our honeymoon."You'll see." He sounds, and looks, smug, refusing to say another word on the subject. But, besides smug, he looks
... I pour icy champagne down the length of my Master's back. He yelps, standing suddenly, bolt upright. I collapse into a fit of giggles, making no resistance as my Master grabs me and spins me, bending me over the back of a chair, pulling my ass up and out. Looking backwards through the waterfall of my long red hair, I catch a glimpse of his expression; laughing/stern. He tries to maintain his poise and authority, but is having difficulty.His hand sweeps down on my derriere, slapping hard against one cheek, making me gasp and jump. But my pussy flutters a welcome."That, Elizabeth," he says "Was very naughty. I am going to have to change my plans on what I had in mind for you today.""I'm sorry Master." I splutter to stop myself from laughing. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."Slap! The hand comes down on the other cheek, stinging. "I'm not going to stop this now," he continues, "Until your rear end matches your hair."Since my hair is brilliantly red, my butt is i
My Master leads me through the long hallway, to the back of the house, past the kitchens, and to the rear staircase.Once of a day, this staircase would have been for the use of servants only, so that their lords and masters did not have to pass them on the main, and much more glamorous, front staircase. Dark and dingy, it leads up to storerooms, utility areas and the rear servants' access to the upper hallway. Also, I now realise, it must lead down too.An oak door blocks the way, the timber ancient, and looking capable of holding off the Hordes of Genghis Khan.My Master winks at me with an air of mystery then produces a large skeleton key. "This is our private area." The lock sticks and then grinds open. "I must get some oil on this," he mutters.The door swings back, and cool damp air wafts out. Cellars?Of course, cellars. A house like this would have had butteries, cold storage rooms, the butler's pantry, laundry areas. And they would all be in the basement areas, where
I know my Master will fuck me soon, but he likes me to be ready for him. He wants me dripping, begging for his cock inside me. Until then, he will play his games, make me wait.He unbuttons his shirt, stripping it off and revealing his well-muscled body. Broad-shouldered and tight waisted, skin gleaming gold in the candlelight, he is such a handsome man; my wonderful Master. Almost from the moment we first met, I wanted him. I want him now, inside me. He steps back and for the first time, really swings the flogger. His aim is perfect. With a snap, the lashes sting past the very tips of my right nipple, biting in as they hum past. I scream and my engorged cunt gushes, hot juices trickling down between my legs. The pain is fleeting; barely there before it is gone again, but my Master repeats the move on my other breast and, as I cry out, I writhe in my bonds, trying to escape (embrace) this pain (pleasure).My Master stalks around me, now lashing behind me. The tails of the flogge
Sated, for now at least, hand in hand, my Master and I exit his dungeon playroom, climbing stone steps to the ground floor and the main house."What would you like to do now, Elizabeth?""Simply being together is wonderful, Master. Perhaps a shower and then just settle into one of the rooms? Enjoy spending time with each other?"His eyes fold into a smile. "I'd like that too. And… what? Talk? Listen to music? Watch a movie?""The music would be lovely. We could put something on in the background and just chat.""Sounds good. You pick something to listen to and go choose a bottle of wine. I'll light the fire."As it turns out, Ross has anticipated us. The lounge is already warm and welcoming. Stacked with logs, in the hearth, flames flicker up the chimney from ashes, shimmering red-gold. Candles dotted around, here and there, add their own magic.I pick out something to listen to, a slow, gentle piece. Bach and Pachelbel caress us with their play as, evening drawing in, we sit together
He's making me wait?Building the anticipation?Of course he is…Movement…The click of a footstep or two. The swish and rustle of fabric…"Master?""Be quiet, Elizabeth." But his words are slightly muffled. As though he is speaking through something in his mouth.Then…Once more, sensation…Glorious, unbearable sensation.But not now in beads and teardrops. Instead, it brushes over the nipple, flickering over the already stiff nub. The skin of the breast gooses, a prickling that spreads over my belly, rides up my spine into my hair, and lances through to my throbbing core.My flesh shivers and flows. Arousal boils the blood over my breasts and neck. And a frigid kiss trickles over my breast bone then down. One rib. Two. Another… Then another.Ice…It's ice…"I already told you, Elizabeth. Breathe."Gulping, I suck in air, then lie still save for my panting.Fingers brush to my lips, then insert, pushing between my teeth, then widening my jaws. "If you forget to breathe again, I'll wed
Pain…Unreasonably, Pussy thrums and clenches.Pain and pleasure…His blue-grey gaze smoky and intense, my Master caresses me with his eyes, the pupils wide and dark as I fit the earrings. "They suit you very well," he says. Taking me by the shoulders, he steers me around. "See?" He aims a finger toward a mirror. My reflection faces me, naked save for my Master's gifts, glinting green, bronze and amber, matching the dance and play of the lamps over my hair, almost black in the blue-green light.The projected images of the glass gems, jade and turquoise, dance over my skin: my arms, my breasts and belly, the smooth mound of my waxed pubis. With the flicker of the candlelight, the spots shift and shiver, smoothing to rounds over my chest and thighs, stretching to ovals over my waist and breasts.The linen of his shirt skimming my spine and shoulders, my Master regards the reflection with me. An arm looping around, he strokes me, fingertips grazing skin. A touch to the lips and the cheek
Dinner with Will and Grace is a pleasant change of pace."So…" Will props himself, chin on fist, elbow on table, "Irene was responsible for the whole mess?""Pretty much," says my Master. "Of course, it required Pensby's collusion to pull it off, but yes, she was the instigator.""What about the other officer?" asks Grace. "The one who turned up at your office and interviewed you.""So far as we can tell, it was a case of just following orders. Pensby gave him the instruction and he followed the routine he'd previously used at Immigration.""Just following orders?" Grace hisses the words. "There's something badly amiss with the system if people can be treated in that way at the whim of some official. Not even an elected official.""Even the unelected officials are often empowered by the elected officials, this being a case in point. I'm quite sure Jack, and hence, Barclay, only intended to improve the City finances and had no idea of what they'd unwittingly let loose. Nonetheless…""I
"Why did you start with Richard and his wife here?" demands Vandervoort.Pensby leans away from the looming Mayor. "I was in receipt of credible information he should be investigated.""S'that so?" Vandervoort cocks a brow. "And the source of that information?"Pensby's throat bobs. "I'm not at liberty to say." His eyes flick toward Irene but she looks away.And Vandervoort follows the movement. He speaks quietly. "Yes, that's what I thought. When my wife here suddenly became more interested in City finances than courting the press, I should have smelled a rat at the time."Eyes narrowing on his wife, "You had me going, my dear. I genuinely believed you'd come up with an idea that would benefit us all. Instead, I find you simply indulged in petty spite in retaliation for some imagined slight and found a target for your machinations.""Imagined!" snaps Irene. "The way that pair treated me…"Pensby blusters. "I'm not at fault. I did nothing. I was only trying to help. It was a favour for
"I'm not a celebrity," burbles Pensby, panic flashing.Claudia flashes brows. Grins. "You will be by the time City News has published this. I can just see the headline…" She raises hands, sweeping an invisible banner through the air, somehow enunciating a capital letter with each word. Mayor's Wife. Affair With City Hall Official. But that'll be small fry compared with the sub-heading… Criminal Conspiracy Against Prominent Citizens." Her grin goes Cheshire Cat-ward. "It could even go national."He starts to reply, but Irene rants over him. "If you publish my private business, I will sue your paper, and you personally, for every..."Claudia clicks her tongue. Wrinkles her nose. "So sue. Or try. When the truth about this comes out, I don't think you'll have the funds to keep a gerbil, let alone pay lawyers or fund Lover-Boy here. Besides…" She eye-points me. "… whether not I publish depends on my friend here. What do you say, Beth?"Irene stills. Pales. Then hisses, "I demand you delete
The table I booked nestles in one of the booths, secluded and to the rear of the dining area. As we take our seats, the waiter scoops up the Reserved label. A matching Reserved sign sits on the table in the next booth, equally secluded, back to back with our own. Claudia and I sit together, facing away from that booth.The waiter looms. "Something to drink while you wait for your party?""Claudia?""Whatever you're getting.""A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc," I say.The waiter sniffs. "Very good, Madam."I nudge Claudia. "I ordered the right table, did I? This one behind us is where they sat?""Yup. So long as they come to the same table, they'll be right behind us." Glancing across toward the waiters, she fiddles with her phone, then twists, trailing a fine cable between us, then behind, winding it into one of the plants twining into the screen. "Camera and microphone," she says, flashing brows. "My phone as it is would probably catch what they're saying, but this is better.""Waiter's c
I exchange glances with my Master. His voice remains bland. "You have our attention." "I followed him for a couple of days. Trailed him from City Hall to his home. He lives in an apartment just off the city centre. Alone so far as I could see. But I shadowed him in the evenings too." Claudia fishes in her bag, producing her mobile. "I've not printed any of this yet. Don't want to risk anyone stumbling across anything inappropriate."She opens up on a short video clip. Pensby, exiting an apartment block, straightening his tie as he walks. The pudding-basin haircut is slicked back. The cheap suit is ill-fitting and badly chosen.Claudia sniffs. "Doesn't cut much of a figure, does he?" Her eyes sparkle, perhaps with humour. Or maybe with malice.I lean in close. "No. He's not exactly every maiden's dream. Sometimes there's a reason guys are single " I also sniff. "Although, in this case, I'll admit. I'm biased."My Master presses a forefinger to his lips. "So, what do we learn from this,
"Who suggested it to Barclay?" I say. "Where did he get it from?"Pondering, my Master slices off a sliver of cheese, chewing slowly. "So far as I'm aware, direct from Vandervoort, but I didn't think to ask. I will."Claudia shakes her head. "Gotta say, it's been an education. Whatever happened here, it's a scandal. All aside from your involvement in this, my friends, the fact that it could happen to anyone at all is a complete disgrace. Supposedly you're innocent unless proven guilty. Shouldn't they at least follow the same rule as the police and give people chance to have a lawyer with them?""Couldn't agree more." He slides the cheese plate toward her. "Try some of the Roquefort. It's very good."*****All goes quiet and after several days, we have heard no more.It seems that Adrian Barclay has gotten the message to conduct any Revenue investigation he still thinks appropriate through conventional channels. My Master is clearly unconcerned by that prospect, shrugging it off. "They
I wake early, rolling over to find the bed beside me empty. The blankets are flung back on his side and the sheets are still warm.Listening for movement from the bathroom instead, the almost silent pad of footsteps from the hall outside is followed by my Master nudging open the bedroom door with a tray. The scents of toast and coffee call to me, haul me upright against my pillow as though I were on strings.He sets the tray alongside me, then, perching a hip on the bedside, leans in to brush his lips over mine. "How are you this morning, my Love?" His words are soft, but worry lurks there, like a shark in the shallows. "Did you sleep well?"I switch on my best and brightest smile. "I'm fine, Master. And yes, I slept very well…" The unease fades behind his eyes. "… I didn't expect to wake up to breakfast. This is perfect. Thank you." Taking a slice of toast, I slather it with butter, pass it to him, then butter another for myself. "You're up and about very early. Has something happened