Lost Property (3 page)

But that wasn’t on his menu just yet.

“Skirt, pants,” he said simply.

Before she knew it her hands were fumbling with the zip at her hip but at the same time she was grimly determined that he was going to touch her this time. Even he wasn’t going to be able to remain unmoved in the face of her complete nudity while he thrashed her.

The word ‘thrash’ went through her mind and echoed in it as she pushed the skirt down and stepped free of it, then did the same with the deep maroon and white lace knickers. Her back stung again as she moved and the word ‘thrash’ wouldn’t go away. It was a good word; she liked the sound of it.

As she straightened up fully naked apart from her black court shoes, he jerked his head towards the desk.

“Over you go!”

She advanced and prepared to lay herself across it, pressing her breasts and face into the leather inlay.

“No! I don’t want you sweating and dribbling over it!” he snapped. “Just stretch your arms out to the sides, rest your face on the wood at the front and hang on.”

She did as he said, bereft of the chance to experience that magical feeling in her nipples and instead resting her cheek on the hard wood and feeling her breasts hang beneath her. It was more comfortable if she shuffled her feet apart and lowered herself a little, she found. The fact that Mr Mostyn standing behind her now had a grandstand view of everything between her legs, perversely only added to her desire to settle herself comfortably. She gripped the ends of the desk and readied herself to undergo further punishment.

She felt cold leather come to rest gently against the skin of her buttocks.

“This is for the poor time keeping,” he told her. “Ten.”

Whack!

The impact was much more fierce and the sting excruciating, but the noise was wonderful and even as she drew in a long shuddering gasp of shock and almost rose off the desk, she registered another eruption of molten heat in her loins.

Whack!

A scream was cut off by choking as the second lash made her breath catch and she gulped helplessly until the third landed, making no allowances for her ability or otherwise to cope with it.

From there on she endured the punishment in a mist of wriggling, stinging, coughing, excitement and yelping until finally it stopped and she lay sobbing and undone on the wood of the desk. Slowly, as her mind began to clear, she began to realise that his hand was inside her. As the numbing fires of the tawse subsided, they were overtaken by fires of bright pleasure as his fingers swirled and twisted inside her, his other hand suddenly reached under her and gripped a breast - hard. She lifted her head and moaned.

“Slut!” he hissed beside her ear. “How can I punish a slut who enjoys her own degradation so much?”

“Sorry, Sir!” she whispered hopelessly, limp with the pleasure of what he was doing to her.

Suddenly, terribly, he stopped what he was doing and she gave a despairing cry as she felt herself emptied with brutal speed.

“Stand up and admit to what a whore you really are,
Mizz
Knowles! Show me and the whole world…” he gestured behind himself to the view, “what a shameless creature you are. Admit to what your punishment has made you desire!” His voice rose enough to achieve a resonance that Kath, already excited, dazed and bewildered, was utterly unable to resist.

She slowly stood up, gripping the desk for a moment until she got her balance then turned to face the room, spread her legs and with her mouth still hanging half open, her hair tousled, she reached both hands between her legs and began to masturbate.

With one hand she began a merciless assault on her clitoris, rubbing and grinding it while with her other hand she reached as deep inside her vagina as she could and thrust with her fingers, desperately trying to imitate the action of a thick hard cock fucking her. And a thick hard cock was what she focussed her eyes on. Hands on hips, Mostyn stood sneering at her, but in his trousers Kath could see that he wasn’t immune to her. He was as turned on as she was.

She felt the first waves of climax build inside her and tried to steady her feet – almost fell but managed to keep on masturbating.

“Go on, you cock hungry slapper!” he urged her. “Show me how shameless you really are!”

“Yess! Yess!” The fires inside her and on her skin were all joined now and if she had to undergo it all again she would gladly do so, just so long as she reached the peak that she knew was coming.

When it broke she put her head back and her trembling fingers administered the
coup de grace
which
blinded her and unbalanced her so that she staggered back against the desk, igniting the bitter fires in her bottom.

When the spasms and tremors finally stopped and her hands dropped away from the hot morass between her thighs, she saw that Mostyn was leaning back against an arm of the settee, just in front of her. His hands were unbuckling his belt and as she watched he slowly slid the zip of his flies down. She brushed some errant hair out of her eyes and staggered forwards. There was only one way this was going to end.

Mostyn caught a handful of her hair as she tottered towards him and pulled her head back to make her look at his cruelly curled lip and the triumph in his blue eyes.

“Whore!” he whispered.

“Yes, Sir.” She sank to her knees and watched as he pulled his trousers and pants down until a furiously thick and urgent cock sprang free. With one hand bracing herself against his thigh, she used the other to ease the foreskin back off the enormous head. It was every bit as angry, hard and demanding as Mostyn himself had been earlier, and those emotions somehow suited it just as well as they had him. Furling her lips carefully over her teeth, she leaned in and opening her mouth until she was sure her jaw would crack, she gently engulfed him, letting her tongue rasp softly along the underside of the helm as it pushed through into her mouth and lodged at her throat.

Above her she heard him sigh in pleasure, then she felt his hands on her head. She began to nod back and forth, feeling the ribbed harness of the shaft pass out from and back into her mouth, tasting the salty pre-come. She parted her knees a bit farther to lower herself so that she could allow him more travel into and out of her mouth and he began to speed up. His hands gripped either side of her head and she readied herself for the eruption of thick, slimy spend that would need swallowing.

When it came he rammed her face onto him, fucking it as he would her cunt and she had to use all her skill to contain him. Even so she did manage to furtively rub at her clit while he came into her.

They dressed hurriedly and without speaking. Now the storms of desire, anger, pain and pleasure had passed, there was no need to speak and Kath didn’t know what words could be said.

Eventually, when she was fully dressed again, she faced him and he regarded her seriously but quite calmly – as if she couldn’t just march out of the room and have him fired and possibly prosecuted – instead she took his hand after a few moments and held it to her face, nuzzling the palm with her cheek and brushing it with her lips.

“Please, Sir. Next time, could we do it a bit earlier? I’m late for a dinner date,” she whispered.

Chapter Two

Kath took a minute to get her breath before she entered the bar. Once she had left Mostyn she had had to go straight back to the Ladies and repair the damage. A quick look to regret the fading belt marks on her back hadn’t been originally intended but had been indulged in anyway. Then she had had a rush to the tube and a crowded carriage to stand in across town, then a scrum to push through on the platform where she alighted and a brisk two hundred yard walk to the bar where Angie, her editor was meeting her. It was pointless trying to hide anything from Angie, she knew her too well, so she didn’t bother with brushing her hair again or anything, just waited till she felt a bit more settled and then entered.

The bar was high-ceilinged and fashionably beige and cool inside, it wasn’t yet crowded so it didn’t take long for her to pick out Angie, sitting on a bar stool and earnestly trying to seduce a barman. Smiling, she went over and took the stool next to her. As she took it, her knees brushed Angie’s and she felt the soft rasp of nylon. So Angie was wearing stockings, that always meant she was up for a good night. Kath’s heart sank a little but rallied at the smile of pure pleasure Angie turned on her.

“Oh my!” she said quietly. “There’s only one thing that’ll bring a sparkle like that to a girl’s eye. James! Bring a large G and T here will you! Ice no slice!”

James who looked as though he spent every waking hour on a surf board when he wasn’t waiting bar, grinned across and began to prepare it.

Kath relaxed against the textured aluminium of the bar. “Tell you later?”

“Sure. You want dinner here, or rustle up something at my place?” Angie’s voice was ruined by years of cigarettes, although now she no longer indulged, and it had a dark brown quality that Kath found highly attractive. The two women looked at each other for a moment, then Angie reached out and touched Kath’s knee.

“He mention Proteus yet?”

Kath shook her head as James delivered her drink and she took a long and much-needed swig as Angie paid and told him that he could shag her lights out any time he was at a loose end. James said he would certainly bear that in mind and laughed. It was a well practised camouflage that Angie had perfected over the years, but it still irked Kath that she felt it was necessary in these days of improved tolerance and equality.

“Better eat at your place. Safer,” Kath said once the gin had hit home and she felt the day begin to drain away.

“Okay, babe. Let’s drink up and get a taxi.”

The taxi dropped them a few yards from Angie’s front door so that Kath could pick up an Indian takeaway while Angie went ahead.

By the time Kath let herself in to the apartment with her key, Angie had laid the table and added candles and lit them. They were the only light in the dining room and the lights in the lounge were low. It was definitely going to be a stockings night, Kath told herself ruefully, still feeling some traces of stinging from her bottom.

“What do you want me as, Mistress?” she asked, putting the meal down on the kitchen work surface. Angie was magnificent in a red leather bustier and matching thong with red thigh boots that accentuated the long, pale thighs. Her blonde hair hung in thick waves about her strong, handsome face and Kath felt herself begin to respond all over again. She was a sucker for dominants. That was all there was to it!

Angie was in her early forties and was supple and fit, her stomach was flat and her hips curved out smoothly from her trim waist. Beneath the strictures of her bustier, her breasts were full and firm. Kath was suddenly eager to be ordered to suck on the thick, red nipples, hard with desire and standing proud of the lust-swollen areolas.

As Kath watched she poured herself a glass of wine.

“Maid, tonight. You can serve me.”

“Yes, Mistress.” It was such a relief to be able to call her by her proper title when they were in private. Kath hated having to call her Angie or Mrs. Hepple when they were together in public, not that that occurred very much since she had been sent to work undercover at the Home Office’s offshoot that Clive Mostyn ran.

In the main bedroom, Kath sorted through her costumes; the nurse, the nun, the school girl, the whore until she found the little black satin number and laid it on the bed while she stripped, and then she pulled it on and went to her stockings and knicker drawer to find a pair of black hold ups, there was absolutely no point in bothering with knickers. She slipped her black court shoes back on and gave her hair yet another quick brush through, tugged the minute satin skirt more squarely over the net skirts underneath it, checked there was a reasonable amount of cleavage on view; Mistress was partial to a casual breast and nipple fondle whenever the mood took her, turned sideways to admire the way the skirt stuck out over her bottom invitingly and trotted back to the kitchen.

Angie looked her over critically.

“Left stocking seam’s a bit skewed,” she opined.

“Sorry, Mistress,” Kath said contritely as she bent to straighten it.

Her Mistress gave a ‘Hmph’ noise that usually meant a caning later and swept out. Kath busied herself with the meal and brought it to the table, where, over the gentle candlelight, she was brought up to date with all the office gossip from The Journal, the paper that Angie edited.

At last they sat back and Kath was allowed a glass of wine herself.

“So tell me what the old goat did this time,” Angie asked.

“It was a belt and a tawse – I’ve not had one of those, can we get one please?”

“You’ll get what you’re given. Now concentrate on telling me exactly what Mostyn said and did,” her Mistress growled. “And you can have the pegs while you do it, you cheeky little madam!”

Kath’s heart began to pound again, just as it had done with Mostyn earlier. As her Mistress sauntered into the lounge, Kath started the next ritual. She fetched a footstool from the spare bedroom – where she slept when she had been very naughty – and set it in front of where Angie now sat on the sofa. Then she went to a kitchen cupboard and took out a box that rattled as she carried it back to the lounge. Finally she took a clean white handkerchief from the airing cupboard and spread it on the stool then she carefully sat on it, making sure her thighs were parted and her labia were in full contact with the handkerchief. Only when she was properly settled did she reach for the box, take off the lid and place it on her Mistress’ lap.

“Pop them out for me, girl!” she commanded.

Kath reached into her bodice and squeezed her breasts out, so that the neckline of the little costume now stretched tightly across her chest under the breasts, pushing them together and thrusting them forwards. With that done, Kath put her hands behind her, straightened her back and leaned towards her Mistress.

Trying to concentrate on getting each detail precisely right, Kath told her editor and adored Mistress all that had happened during the day. While she did so, Angie took pinch after pinch of soft breast flesh and clamped a clothes peg over it.

From time to time Kath glanced down to admire the multi-coloured spiky mounds that her poor breasts had become. She would lose her way in a sentence as she watched Mistress’ hand close over another piece of skin and pull it, whilst with her other hand she lowered a cheerfully coloured plastic peg over it and then let it close, adding a shrill descant to the overall throbbing that was her entire breast area. She would stumble over her account and Mistress would slap her thigh irritably to bring her attention back to where it belonged. What Mistress did with Kath’s tits was none of Kath’s business after all.

“Hmm.” Angie sat back and surveyed her handiwork when Kath had ended her account. “But you’re still finding evidence of Proteus?”

“Oh yes, Mistress. I’ve seen it mentioned in several documents and sometimes one or other of the senior staff refer to it if they think they won’t be overheard.”

“We’re running out of time. The big boss man wants results and if Mostyn doesn’t make his move soon, we’ll just have to run with another ‘Minister found with his leg over’ scandal. And they’re two a penny.”

The Proteus project had been why Kath had been sent undercover to apply for a job with Mostyn’s department. Rumours had been circulating for some time about a hush-hush project that he had been tasked with by someone very high up in government. From what could be picked up, there seemed to be a salacious element to whatever it was and The Journal was always alert to the circulation boosting possibilities of good sex stories.

To begin with Angie had been delighted with how quickly Mostyn had responded to Kath’s charms and when he had stumbled across her submissiveness when she had allowed herself to be put over his knee and spanked for talking at the water station for too long, hopes were high that he would drop hints about Proteus during a night at a hotel or something. But so far he had limited himself to punishing her in the office and had only used her orally.

They had hoped for pillow talk but Mostyn seemed to be resisting the temptation.

Mistress stood up and gestured to Kath to do the same, together they surveyed the state of the handkerchief on which Kath had been sitting. It was sodden in a long, wet mark in the centre.

“Hopeless slut! Into the bedroom for caning!” Mistress ordered cheerfully, ignoring the soft whimper from Kath at the lack of permission to remove the pegs first. They always hurt more in the coming off than in the putting on, so that meant all the havoc a cane could cause, followed by a fresh burst of breast pain…..The trouble was that the cruelty just meant that she was getting even wetter.

Bent over the wrought iron foot of the bed with her miniscule skirt pushed up onto her lower back, Kath received a slow and excruciating caning that left her bruised, ecstatic and so turned on that Angie’s hand was almost sucked in to the wrist by her cunt. After a good feeling around, Angie had Kath stand with hands on head while the pegs were slowly removed from her tits and then she was sent to shower while Angie undressed and selected her biggest strap-on, put it on, made sure the lube was close to hand and climbed into bed.

The room was dark when Kath returned and she slipped under the duvet to find her Mistress’ body, soft and warm, waiting for her. She groaned in pleasure as her questing fingers found the strap-on and further investigation revealed it to be the biggest one they possessed. In the dark she heard the lid of the lube pot open and giggling huskily she turned onto her front and got her knees under her so that her bottom was in the air.

The lube was cold and the strap-on hurt to start with but then Mistress drove her fingernails into the cane weals on her buttocks and all was well.