Emily, sensing something was going on, looked down into the face of the woman who lay beneath her – and then stiffened as she felt the brush of the rubber cock against her thighs.
At first Max thought she might resist – but he had reckoned without Franz. The tall man laid one hand on the small of Emily's back, stroking a finger along the livid reminders of the belt's caress.
"Stay still," he murmured. "Let Naomi feel what I felt, let her have you -" As he spoke he guided the thick phallus into the girl's quim. Max could sense her resistance, her revulsion, but she was no match for Naomi and Franz. Naomi began to move, screwing the dear little Emily with her dark rubber cock, moaning with pleasure as if she could truly feel the tight confines of the girl's body around her.
In spite of herself, Emily began to move, encouraged by Franz's voice and his caresses. He slipped his fingers into the deep recesses of her body, seeking out the sensitive creases, the hard swollen peak of her pleasure bud, the wet junction where her body closed around the rubber phallus -
Max downed his champagne in a single gulp. If there was ever a couple who could convert Emily Lawrence to the compulsive, addictive pleasures of submission, the heady cocktail of pain and passion, it was Naomi Haroldson and her stunning friend, Franz.
Already the huge man's passion was beginning to rekindle, his exhausted member rising and thickening. Franz worked his fingers over Emily's sex, smearing the juices back toward the other secret orifice, and with infinite care pressed his newly revived cock into her arse.
Emily bucked, snorting, as he sought to move deeper. The blond giant's fingers were compelling her on towards oblivion,stroking, teasing. And like a well trained dog Emily responded, stretching, arching back to accept the attentions of her two lovers.
Max wished Leonora and Johnson could have been there with him. Particularly Johnson. If he had seen Emily's compliance, her eager movements under Franz and Naomi's tuition, perhaps he could have seen her as something other than a tempting scrap to catch Peter Howard.
Beyond the glass, the girl arched her back, dropping her hips. Franz slipped his fingers under her collar, securing her into an exciting erotic bow, pulling him onto her and Naomi. Max hissed his approval, wishing he had brought one of Leonora's girls with him to satisfy the hungry ache in his own groin.
Through the glass Emily was pushing her mind and body out towards the stars as Max shuddered and refilled his glass.
Chapter 10
Peter didn't taste the chicken casserole Angela had cooked for him. His mind was on her change of position. They ate in silence while he tried to think his way around the trap he'd found himself in. Angela served the dessert, desperate to catch his eye.
"Please," she said in a low voice. "This doesn't change anything. I'm not going to turn you over to them."
Peter snorted. "Do you expect me to believe that?"
"Yes."
He had an uncanny feeling that she was telling the truth, but how could he be certain? "What did you bring me here for?"
Angela pointed to the bank of computers he had had set up close to the bed.
"To do exactly what you're doing now. Johnson was kept away from the hospital by confirming you were definitely Jack Roberts, even though we knew you weren't. We – you have to bring them down, Peter, set your plan for Magenta into action. That's all. I told you, we only want what you want."
He watched her face. She was sincere, he was almost convinced of it.
"Why?"
Angela shook her head. "I can't tell you. If you knew, you might be able to guess who I was working for. If you knew that they could be in danger. You said yourself that the men Johnson and Fielding work with are ruthless."
"What about our little educational package?" As he spoke he glanced at the cane that sat amongst the debris on his bedside cabinet.
Angela smiled and stood up, lifting her elegantly tailored skirt. She was naked beneath.
"A bonus," she whispered. "It's something I'd only ever dreamt of until now." She blushed as she spoke.
At least Peter was completely convinced that she was telling the truth about that. She turned very slowly; the marks of the cane still ribboned across her white skin. He shuddered, thinking about the way she had writhed, opened herself for his pleasure. He tried to hold his thoughts on track.
"Are you really a nurse?"
She nodded, still holding her skirt high up over her thighs. Her fingers teased at the moist outer lips.
"Yes, or at least I was until my father became ill. All that part is true. I nursed him for years." She paused, looking steadily at Peter. "My employer knew about Magenta for a long time. They'd been watching you, waiting for an opportunity to sound you out. When it was stolen they tried to make contact, but it was too late. Then, once they knew the plane had gone down it seemed as if it everything was lost. When they realised you had survived it seemed the perfect opportunity. I started going onto the ward, watching, waiting, so people wouldn't think it strange to see me there. My job was to bring you out, to help you if I could."
Peter blew out a thoughtful breath, trying to guess who it might be, struggling to double guess his unknown benefactors. "How did you meet this mysterious employer?"
Angela shook her head, letting her skirt drop. "No more, Peter. You have to get Magenta up and running."
Peter beckoned her closer and slid his hands up under her skirt, her sex was moist and compelling. She opened her legs to give him greater freedom. The mixture of fear, fury and white hot desire were a heady combination. He wanted to make her pay for her deception.
"Bring me the box," he hissed. She stepped away from him, eyes downcast. The box he had ordered which had contained the body harness still held other delights, things he had anticipated sharing with Angela. But this punishment was in earnest.
He took the harness out of the box and threw it to her.
"Put this on," he commanded, "wear it all the time from now on."
Angela reddened, but wordlessly began to undress. He watched her with cold eyes, his mind racing. He tried hard to detect if she was lying, even though all his senses told him otherwise.
He beckoned her closer when she had the harness in place. Cruelly he tightened the straps, making the new unwieldy leather bite into her delicate thighs, nipping her pale skin. She bit her lips, tears forming in her eyes. He indicated the bed.
"Lie down."
She clambered onto the bed, scurrying as if she were afraid of him. He wheeled himself beside her and took a thin piece of cord from the box and pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. Then he tied her arms above her head, knotting the cord through the metal bed frame. All the time she watched him with a haunted glassy expression. When he was done he looked down at her. She was as ripe and full as summer fruit. He jerked her legs apart, cursing himself for feeling so weak and shaky, and tied them at the ankles to the foot of the bed.
Angela was pale now, straining slightly against the ropes as if testing them. Roughly he gagged her.
"You want to know what it feels like to be at Deuvar. I'll show you!"
From the box he produced the little nipple clamps they had used in fun the day before. She whimpered in pain as he clamped her nipples tight, turning the tiny screws until the puckered tips flushed scarlet from the pressure. Her eyes flashed in terror as he moved away.
He wanted to make her pay for his confusion and it seemed that she could sense his change of attitude. Her body lifted, writhing away from him as he took a small two fingered tawse from the box. The first blow across her swollen flushed breasts made her sob, struggling away from the pain.