THE PRIZE (7 page)

Lost in her darkness and ablaze with mingled torment and ecstasy, Ayesha felt herself slipping away. She had lost count of the days since her abduction. They had kept her in a plain little cell, chained to her bed and for most of the time she had worn this wretched hood. Either Mohammed or Mahmut would enter, pin her hands behind her back and then slip the hateful thing over her head, pinching her nose until she had to open her mouth and then stuffing that with the built-in penis gag before buckling the whole contrivance tightly at the back of her neck, leaving her blind and deaf, only able to taste the acrid plastic of the shaft filling her mouth. She was left for hours at a time, sometimes tied in painful positions as well but eventually someone would come and use her. However she was restrained it always left her body available and what was really disturbing was that she was coming to want it. After the suffocating darkness and silence, the touch of fingers, even anonymous fingers groping her most intimate places was human contact of a sort. Even the pain of the breast and nipple stretching she was currently undergoing meant that at least there was someone else present. The repeated fucks were even better, even if they did lead to more pain. Someone actually inside her banished the long isolation and the hood made her focus on the feelings of pain and pleasure more intensely than anything she had ever experienced before. But as she lay and felt the sperm from the last fuck dribble down between her buttocks and begin to congeal and the bitter stretching of her nipples continued, Ayesha realised she could hardly remember even Karen's face. But somehow she had to hang on to some memories of who she had been before she had been transformed into a dumb, anonymous frame for a vagina and two breasts. She had to hang on because there was still hope; her handler at HM Customs and Excise knew where she had been going. He needed her information - he would come looking for her. He had to.

Chapter 8

Karen was desperate. Days had become weeks and still there was no news from Ayesha. It was as if the sky had simply swallowed her plane but there had been no reports of any crash. Ayesha had just not come back. At last she had made discreet enquiries at the airport the plane had taken off from but could glean nothing of any use. What made it worse was that there was no one she could confide in. Telling her husband about her concerns was of course out of the question. He had no idea that she even knew Ayesha, let alone that she was sleeping with her and conniving with her to swindle him to boot. She could not rid herself of the odd suspicion that he might have had something to do with her disappearance. But why he would want her out of the way defeated her. After all Ayesha had always said that he could never keep his hands off her. Nevertheless he didn't seem to act like someone who had lost a valuable employee and part-time mistress.

The final straw was that as the weeks went by she became more and more frustrated. Her husband screwed her occasionally but was just not interested in her enough to give her what she needed, and what she needed was Ayesha's domination to achieve the kind of orgasm which really satisfied her.

She paid frequent visits to Ayesha's flat, rummaging through every scrap of paper she could find, trying in vain to break into her laptop; all to no avail. In the end she went just to sit and hope that some day she would see her again.

In that mood of resigned sadness and sheer sexual desperation she went one autumn afternoon and found the door to the flat partly open. Suddenly furious that anyone would invade her lover's territory and ignoring the possibility of burglars, Karen stormed in. A smartly dressed man of about her own age was bending over the table in the lounge and sorting through the mail. He straightened up as she entered and looked her calmly in the eye.

"Who
a
re you?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same!" she retorted hotly.

He reached into the back pocket of his smartly
-
pressed trousers and produced an ID card which he held out for her inspection. It announced the bearer to be Brian Holden, an employee of Her Majesty's Customs and Excise.

"I don't understand. What's Ayesha got to do with you?" she asked.

"Nothing, except that we’re after her boss. She was informing us about the jobs she was doing and what she thought he was up to. I was assigned to liaise with her."

"But she worked for my.........I mean.......you're after John!?" Karen felt her face go ashen and her legs wobble as the information sank in.

The man came forward and helped her into a seat.

"Maybe you'd better tell me where you fit into all this," he suggested. Karen sought for words and then burst out laughing.

"I think you'd better fix us both a drink. I fit into this very snugly indeed, believe me!"

Cradling a weak whisky and water she told her story and it was the man's turn to go pale.

"Let me get this straight. You and Ayesha de la Tour were having an affair, you were both swindling Sir John - your own husband - but Ayesha hadn't got around to telling you about her involvement with us and that we were closing in on him." He paused and shook his head. "You're a nice bunch of people," he concluded.

"Think what you like but believe me I only know the hotel business. What else he gets up to is his own business. Now, where's Ayesha?"

The man was now sitting opposite her and looking at her speculatively. "So you're Karen Fitzgerald. There was no photo in the file and we've no reason to be on your trail. His illegal operations seem to be undertaken when he's away from home and there's no sign of you being involved."

"So where's Ayesha?"

"I've no idea. I was hoping you might know. You were.......close to her, after all."

Karen shifted uncomfortably under his steady gaze. "All I know is she was flying out to the Middle East and was due back weeks ago."

"But is that all you know?"

"Yes! What is this, a bloody interrogation?"

"I could make it one," the man sat forward suddenly and pinned her with his dark brown eyes. Karen shrank back, aware for the first time that she was alone with a man who looked to be physically very strong and who was in a
position
to make her life very uncomfortable.

"I searched the bedroom," he said. "I did it weeks ago of course. Today was just to see if there was anything new in the post, or if I'd missed anything."

Karen's mouth went dry and her heart pounded.

"Would you like me to interrogate you? I bet there's more a depraved tart like you could tell me!"

"How dare you!" Karen tried to sound firm and arrogantly
furious;
instead her voice came out as a pathetic warble.

"You're very attractive, you know. And so's Ayesha of course," the man sat back and smiled a slow dangerous
smile.” A
man in my position could enjoy interrogating women like you."

Karen swallowed nervously and became aware of her pulse racing. There was something devastatingly attractive about this man. It wasn't just physical, although he was good looking, it was the power he wielded. Karen had always been attracted to power, it was why she had married Sir John, but then she had found out that all he wanted was a bit of arm candy and in revenge had set out to use him for all she could get. The casual way Ayesha used her body to gain power over people had also been a powerful aphrodisiac.

Suddenly it seemed like years ago that she had been in this very flat and had been as excited as she was now. A hot ache seemed to have settled around her loins.

Slowly she stood up and took off her jacket.

Then she held her arms out in front of her. "Do your duty officer," she said and was rewarded by the sight of a straining bulge in the front of the man's trousers as he stood up and seemed to tower over her.

Brian Holden poured himself another whisky from Ayesha de la Tour's drinks cabinet and reflected on the last couple of hours. They had probably been the most exciting of his life and suddenly so much became clear to him. It was no wonder he had never married, although he knew enough women had tried to get him to the altar, this was what he had been waiting for. He had heard of SM of course but the reality had exceeded his wildest dreams. And it felt good.

He hadn't handcuffed her straightaway, he had simply taken one arm and twisted it up behind her back, quite gently but enough to get her onto her toes and then he had marched her into the bedroom where he had made her strip. She had made no protest at all, shirt, bra, skirt, knickers and then she had simply stood and waited for the next order. For a second he had been nearly fatally weak, unsure of how best to proceed. But just in time he had ordered her onto the bed, not sure how exactly he wanted her. But she had solved that problem by lying down on her stomach, her gorgeous breasts squashing out under her and putting her arms through the bars of the bed head. He recognised the blatant desire to be handcuffed and had obliged, using Ayesha's restraints. Then he had looked down at the woman's body before him and felt the blood coursing through his veins in a surge of excitement so powerful he thought it would take his head off. The graceful line of her back and the slender waist led to the flare of the hips and the mounds of the buttocks and then the long thighs and the shapely legs. It was all laid out for him. It was a country, a landscape of flesh and blood and it was all his to rule.

As if to emphasise the point, the woman - Karen - wife of Sir John Fitzgerald for God's sake! - lay with her legs apart. He bent over her and thrust one hand into the warmth between her thighs, soft pillows of labial flesh greeted him and he fumbled them apart in his haste to find her vagina but even as he worked urgently and roughly he felt them part of their own accord and then his fingers were slipping up into her moist and clinging cunt. She sighed with pleasure and Brian had to calm himself as he felt his erection chafing against his trousers, his arousal so urgent that he was in imminent danger of coming. He stood back and began to undress, taking his mind off his excitement by continuing the role play.

"A depraved tart did I call you? I was going easy on you. Tell me everything about Ayesha de la Tour you worthless whore, or I'll beat it out of you!"

Karen Fitzgerald writhed a little at his words, pulling at her cuffs and clenching her thighs briefly and then opening them again. Brian recalled how he had stroked the lashes of the whip across his hand when he had first found it. He had been pretty certain that a physical specimen like Ayesha wasn't into being on the receiving end but his imagination had furnished a spectacular lesbian submissive - for some reason he had never considered the possibility that she might dominate a man - and reality had surpassed his fantasy. Karen Fitzgerald was voluptuous, voracious and deeply masochistic.

Once he was naked, she looked up at his rampant erection and made a purring noise in her throat.

"I'm not saying anything. You'll never make me talk," she whispered.

And so the game had started and Brian's life changed forever. He retrieved the whip and stood over her.

"Last chance before I whip you to shreds if I have to." The words seemed to hang in the air between them. He could hardly believe he had said them, they were outlandish, outrageous and very, very exciting.

Karen bit her lip and tightened her grip on the bed head. Brian raised the whip and suddenly her back looked so vulnerable and delicate. He couldn't snap a whip down over it, as if she were some medieval wretch in a dungeon. Could he? He looked at her face once more and saw the barely suppressed excitement flushing her cheeks. She wanted the whip! He lashed it down hard.

The noise was the most exciting thing he had ever heard. It landed with a satisfying fleshy Smack!

Karen let out a strained grunting noise, her body jerked and her buttocks rippled. Brian decided they would be next.

"Tell me everything," he remembered to repeat before cracking the whip down again.

She shook her head and he carried on. Sometimes he stroked her bottom with the lashes, until she was moving her hips against the leathers and he would call her a whore, raise the whip and scythe it down across her upper back, making her arch her head back and yelp with shock. But she wouldn't talk and Brian was amazed at how much she was taking, her shoulders and back were excitingly criss
-
crossed and her buttocks were glowing pink.

He took a rest and delved between her thighs again. His fingers sank into the wettest cunt he had ever encountered. She was so wide open and so awash with her own discharge that he could hardly tell when he penetrated her. Suddenly he wanted to screw her.

"Talk damn you!" he muttered between clenched teeth as he fingered her ever more deeply. "Tell me everything you cheap trash! Guttersnipe! Your cunt is like the fucking Blackwall tunnel!"

Suddenly she was bucking ferociously, her hips rocking and swivelling as his fingers continued to fuck her. She finished in a frantic series of thrusts with her hips down onto the bed and then she lay, moaning and gasping, utterly spent.

"Ayesha de la Tour was a bitch. A beautiful bitch with an ass to die for. Is that depraved enough for you?" she whispered.

"No. I want to know everything," he said and continued working the fingers of one hand inside her while with the other he started to beat her again. She began to gabble as she started the climb towards another climax.

"Her cunt was the best I ever tasted. She used to make me lick her out after men had had her. Ow! It made me so jealous and she would laugh at me and then beat me. I loved her!"

The pace of his whipping increased as his fingers drove her mercilessly onwards.

"She made me lick her ass out after she'd been buggered! I used to think she only took it up there to humiliate me! Ow! Oh, God! Fuck me! I'll tell you anything, do anything, just fuck my lights out! Pleeease!"

Brian could have considered his options but his body was too urgent. He knelt behind her and hauled her hips up before ramming himself into her. He hardly needed to aim, she was so much on heat, he just sank into her and she gripped him with internal muscles the like of which he had never encountered.

As he began pistoning in and out he poured invective over her and she responded with desperate pleas for him to go faster and fuck her harder. He came in an orgasm so intense that it felt as though his anus was being dragged out through his cock and his cries mingled with hers as they climaxed and then collapsed. But not for long. Brian heaved himself off her and flipped her onto her back then knelt astride her face and held the back of her head. She made no objection and began to lick hungrily at his soft but gleaming and slimy cock. Most women he knew balked at tasting themselves off a cock but this woman licked without shame, enthusiastically lapping up every last drop of sex juice she could get at and hardening him up again immediately. The second time he fucked her he nearly used the missionary position but instinct told him not to get too close but to dominate the position. He grabbed her legs and put them up over his shoulders so that he could look down on her as he achieved deep penetration and she couldn't hide her pleasure as he shafted her to two more climaxes before he himself erupted.