She lifted her head to speak, becoming confused at the sight of her body in a tight rubber waspie.
"Jeff," she whispered, thinking it was her lover. "What's going on?"
The blade glided across her mons, revealing her thick lipped smile in all its glory. She enjoyed the feeling, dropping her head back over the arm of the chair as it swept across her again. When she opened her eyes the next time the fluorescent strip light shouted out like a long white exclamation mark against the ceiling. There was no strip light in her house. She wasn't at home! Peter saw the realisation on her face and acted quickly by attaching a lead to the back of her collar and running it under the chair. When he put his foot on it at his side Claire was unable to move her head.
"Is it you, Peter?"
Peter answered with further sweeps of the blade.
"Don't struggle," he warned her. "I don't want to slip with this razor."
She remained perfectly still as he renewed the lather and continued his task. Each time he pulled her between thumb and finger or brushed her clitoris she shuddered. The very thought that this middle aged man had made love to her sister and now had her legs spread before him filled her with anger and disgust. As he finished, Peter wiped away some soap that had run between the cheeks of her bottom, making her humiliation grow as he took time around her anus.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her head still forced to face the ceiling. "I know we've never really liked each other, but this!"
Peter tied the end of the lead to the bottom of the chair then stood up so she could see his face. It was flushed red, with determination, with desire and with confusion.
"I was telling the truth yesterday, Claire," he pleaded. "All of it. All I want is Susan back and you're the last chance. You have to help."
"Listen to yourself," she grated. "What you sound like." She wanted to close her legs but if she did it meant hanging them over the chair and that lifted her head and pulled the collar tight around her neck. The only way she could keep it relatively loose was to lift her legs up onto the seat and that meant they flopped open. "You know you're getting yourself into deep trouble, Peter. Let me go now and we'll say no more about it."
Peter studied her almost naked body closely. He had brought her here, stripped her and shaved her cunt. His mind was reeling, his thoughts tumbling over in his head. He had been so sure she would see reason, help him rescue Susan. Seeing her tied to the chair, her tits and pussy on display, he wondered where it had all gone wrong. Why had this happened to him?
All he wanted was his boring, mundane life back.
"You've gone and lost it, Pete," she said. "Lost it all. Susan, and now after this, they're going to put you away."
"No," he replied. "Not when Susan tells them I'm right."
"Right!" Claire laughed. "You couldn't be right to save your life. You couldn't satisfy your wife, and you can't accept it when she finds someone who can. Because that's what's happened." Her voice had that spiteful venomous edge. She was trying to hurt him, damage his ego, and she knew how to do it. "She's probably with him now, in bed. Screwing each other stupid. He's got his thick cock up her, banging her good and hard, like you never could."
She paused for breath before continuing her tirade. "And what have you got? Denial and revenge. You're still on your own, still sleeping alone. She's got a proper man. What have you got? Nothing."
Peter walked to the side of the chair where the lead was tied. He undid the knot, pulled it tighter so that Claire's head was snapped back firmly, then re-attached it again. He leant over her, an angry red mist clouding his vision.
"You're wrong, Claire," he said, remarkably calmly. "Wrong, wrong, wrong. I've got you."
Between her thighs Claire felt the tell tale nudge of a penis seeking out her entrance, tapping its way along the inside of her legs before stopping at her slot.
"Don't do it Peter," she pleaded. "You can still put things right…"
The feel of his cock pushing apart her lips took away her breath.
"No," she cried. "No more."
Peter had stopped listening, stopped thinking, stopped caring. His engorged prick pushed its stubborn way along his sister-in-law's sheath, stopping only when his balls reached her bottom.
"You bastard," said Claire coldly. "You've done it now!"
Peter Warburton had finally gone over the edge.
Chapter 15
"Can't you just give me something to wrap around myself? I feel a bit exposed."
"Sorry, but no," said Peter. "I have to get used to the way The Drivers behave. You too." He connected a lead to the collar on Claire's neck then unlocked the buckles that held her against the garage wall. She had been there all night, until Peter came for her.
He led her through the door that connected the garage to the kitchen of the house.
"Breakfast," said Peter, taking her to the table where cereals and grapefruit were prepared ready.
"I'm not hungry."
Peter sat opposite. "Suit yourself, but I think you ought to eat something. It's going to be a long day." He poured them both coffee and started on his own food.
Claire took a drink from her cup and toyed with the cereal, lacking any real appetite.
"What now?" she asked.
"We've got a few hours to kill before we leave. I thought we could spend some time getting to know each other." He waited for her to finish breakfast and use the bathroom then took her through to the lounge where he fastened the cuffs about her wrists again and sat her in a large leather club chair near the fireplace.
"If only you could have seen what I have these last three months," he said. "I told the police. Twice. Told you. Told everyone I could. Nobody wanted to listen."
Claire sat in silence, occasionally trying to pull down the waspie to cover her depilated mons, hoping not to arouse him again. Peter smiled at her actions.
"Why bother?" he asked. "I've seen it all now. Seen you the way Susan's been seen. Stripped you just like she was stripped." He came across to stand in front of her, making it clear where his eyes were fixed.
"You know?" he said. "These last few months have been an eye opener for me, in more ways than one. I always respected the law." He shrugged his shoulders with a resigned air. "But I suppose I've never had anything to do with it until now. They let me down. They let them take Susan away from me, like she didn't matter. The Drivers can do that. They can do what they want, it's easy. Anyone can, I can. I took you. Look at you." He leant forward to fondle her breasts. "I've got you here. I can touch these whenever I want. Touch this, touch that."
She stiffened as his hands explored her thighs, searching fingers slipping into her most secret folds.
"Don't Peter," she whispered. "You've been under a lot of strain. Lets put all this behind us. Go to the police."
He continued his probing, rudely and arrogantly, then released a loud scornful laugh as he stood up to survey his capture.
"I told you. I already have. They let me down. You all did!"
He pulled Claire out of the chair and into the centre of the room and began circling about her, looking at her body, studying her intimately.
"You know?" he said quietly. "I've spent some time wondering what it must be like. To be a Driver I mean. To have all that power." He smoothed the back of his hand down the small of her back and on to her bottom. "To be able to take a woman when you want. When you are ready." He came around to face her, staring so intently into her eyes she felt compelled to look away.
Peter cupped her breasts and smiled.
"They're nice," he said. "Firm and heavy. And they are mine, and so is this." His hand dropped between her legs where he explored for a moment before turning his attention to her backside. "And this," he told her. "Oh yes, this too. Everything. Whenever, however I want it."