Hot Pursuit (2 page)

By the same author:

THE BLACK ROOM
THE BLACK GARTER
AMAZON SLAVE
FAIRGROUND ATTRACTIONS
THE BLACK WIDOW
THE BLACK MASQUE
DANCE OF SUBMISSION
THE SLAVE AUCTION
SLAVE SENTENCE
THE TORTURE CHAMBER
THE BLACK FLAME
PROPERTY
ORIGINAL SINS

HOT PURSUIT

‘I've just shown you a pleasure you'd never experienced before,' Lucy explained. ‘And I can show you a million other joys, if you'd like. But it will have to be your decision. Would you like to try something bolder?'

Anne clutched her hands in her lap and squirmed happily against the bed. ‘I'd love to,' she whispered honestly.

Lucy grinned. ‘Then come with me.'

Anne frowned and glanced past her toward the window. ‘I thought you were following someone,' she remembered.

‘I am. But you could still come with me, if you wanted. It would be an adventure.'

Anne didn't need to contemplate her response. She didn't ask where they were going because she suspected that Lucy didn't really know. And she didn't ask what they were going to be doing because she thought she already knew the answer to that one. Eyes wide with excitement, she was fully aware of the commitment she was making when she said, ‘If you're taking me on an adventure, then yes: I want to come with you.'

A lacquer of semen varnished Lucy's tongue, lips and jaw. The thick erection continued to tremble in her mouth, perpetually held at a point close to ejaculation. The glans was swollen and leaking a never-ending stream of pre-come but, with growing frustration, Lucy could see Donald wasn't going to relent. Determined to win him over she kneaded his tight sac before moving her lips away and begging again.

‘Please,' she whispered. ‘Please let me –'

‘No more talking, Kitten,' he broke in. As always, his tone was condescendingly patient. While he caressed her cheek, a sad smile teased his lips and he shook his head slowly. ‘If you carry on begging, especially now I've said no, I'm going to have to make you wear the ball-gag again.' Flexing a good-natured grin, and pushing her face back to his shaft, he added, ‘And how would you be able to do what you're doing if you had a ball-gag in your mouth? You wouldn't be able to, would you?'

Grudgingly, Lucy continued sucking, wondering if there was another way to approach him for permission. She didn't want to risk defying his orders – in spite of his placid facade, Donald's wrath was legendary for its sadistic twist – but she wouldn't let
herself give up without knowing she had exhausted every possible chance.

His hardness pulsed at the back of her throat. It wasn't a climactic jerk – more a sensation of him settling back to enjoy his pleasure – but she knew the real thing wouldn't be long in coming. A mixture of his sweat and pre-come tainted every breath and, trying not to show her reluctance, Lucy swallowed the bilious taste. Burying her nose in the dark thatch over his pubic bone, slurping noisily on the shaft that impaled her mouth, she steeled herself for his displeasure before moving her lips away. ‘Please,' she started again. The threat of tears shimmered her vision as she stared pitifully up. With uncharacteristic optimism she hoped that somewhere within him Donald might see she desperately wanted this one, small gesture of his goodwill. ‘I've been one of your favourites for two years now. I seldom ask for much and this is the only time I've ever . . .'

With obvious impatience, Donald looked away. His clipped sigh and the softening of his length spoke volumes about his exasperation.

After a weekend of debauchery and revelry it should have been the usual Monday evening calm at the baronial hall. The stone walls of the dining chamber were lit by sconces and the room seemed empty with only the four of them around the battered old dining table. Donald had just finished his supper and Lucy was performing her after-meal duties prior to him retiring for the night. She had thought, while he was in a relaxed and ambient mood, it would be the ideal time to approach him with her request. Now, realising she had overstepped the mark of acceptable behaviour, she wondered what suffering her lack of judgement might merit.

Ginger stepped out of the chair on Donald's right-hand side. She stared down at Lucy with staunch foreboding. She was a tall woman and currently
ranked most senior of Donald's favourites. Her wheylike complexion was mottled by freckles that marred her otherwise striking features. Dressed in a painfully tight red basque, her ample breasts almost spilling from the cups, Lucy thought the woman looked simultaneously frightening and desirable. Her legs were encased in scarlet stockings, the glass sheen glistening in the glow of the candlelight. Worn over her suspender belt was a thong so skimpy it was invisible from behind and did nothing to hide the swell of her neatly shaved pussy lips. Lucy didn't know if her name was really Ginger, or if that was simply a nickname due to her tight, titian curls. Because the redhead always held herself so aloofly, never associating with any of Donald's other favourites, Lucy had yet to find the courage to ask her that simple question.

‘Is the bitch pestering again, sire?' Ginger asked sharply. The sparkle in her green eyes, and the glint of her menacing smile, belied any attempts at indifference. Her fingers flexed and stretched as though she was anxious to get hold of Lucy and properly reprimand her. ‘I can teach her to stop begging if it would suit you,' she promised. Licking her lips, and snatching a pair of handcuffs from the table, she added, ‘You know that I have ways.'

Donald nodded wearily. ‘She's being a naughty little Kitten this evening,' he said unhappily. ‘She's being very naughty indeed. I think she does need a stern ticking-off.'

Ginger's smile turned eager.

Inwardly, Lucy groaned and her bowels twisted with trepidation. She didn't bother trying to apologise or make a retraction because she knew the situation had already gone beyond that stage. All she could do now was endure everything meted out and
pray the pain and humiliation didn't prove unbearable.

Ginger snapped her fingers and a blonde came stumbling from the shadows. ‘The sire needs pleasuring,' Ginger barked. ‘I'm sure you can do it better than this worthless whore. Get down on your knees and suck him.'

Donald winced at Ginger's abrasive tone but, with her attention focused entirely on Lucy, the redhead seemed oblivious to his unease. Her thin lips curled into a sneer as she glared down with blatant contempt.

Without further instruction the blonde took over Lucy's position and began to gobble along Donald's thick shaft. Her tongue glided over his erection before her plump, ripe lips encircled his meaty dome. Smiling around the length, her cheeks dimpled as she began to suck.

Lucy knew the blonde by sight. She had seen her following Ginger around the baronial hall often enough, but didn't know her name. Not that she worried about that minor detail as she was dragged from her kneeling position. Her arms were pinned behind her back and Ginger secured her wrists with the cuffs.

Grinning with obvious pride at the efficient way she was dealing with the master's problem, the redhead turned to Donald and asked, ‘Would you care to watch me reprimand her, sire?'

Donald seemed to consider his response while he settled himself to enjoy the blonde's fellatio. ‘Are you going to be gratuitously unkind to her, Ginger?'

Lucy glanced nervously at Ginger, wondering how she was going to respond.

‘Do you want me to be gratuitously unkind, sire?' Ginger returned.

They regarded one another with obvious understanding and then both began to laugh. Listening to their mirth echo from the stone walls, painfully aware of their humour's callous edge, Lucy realised her position had gone from being undesirable to invidious. Given the opportunity she would have backed away or tried to flee the room but Ginger was adept at controlling subordinates and previous experience had taught Lucy better than to resist.

An array of implements remained on the table from the weekend's soiree. Employing a practised skill, Ginger snatched a coarse length of rope and began to bind Lucy's breasts.

It wasn't the first time she had been tit-tied but Lucy still found the ordeal worrying: the rope was abrasive and chafed her warm orbs; the binding was always cruelly tight and left her aching dully; but, worst of all, it was a punishment that never failed to incite her to a loathsome, black arousal. The combination of restriction and heightened sensitivity always fuelled a dark, lascivious need.

‘Don't whimper, bitch,' Ginger spat. She tugged hard on the rope while repeatedly looping it in a figure eight. Her features were stretched into a grimace as she made the binding as tight as possible. ‘Keep whimpering and I'll string you up from the fucking ceiling by these titties.'

‘Ginger!' Donald exclaimed.

The redhead shrank from his raised voice as though she had been struck. She turned a sycophantic smile on her master and Lucy could see the woman was mentally back-pedalling to try and work out what she had done wrong. It was cold comfort to see the mounting distress bleaching her freckled features because Lucy didn't want Donald's mood turning volatile. As long as he had control of his temper she
knew her suffering would be considered and, at worst, inhumane. If he became irate, there was no telling how he might decide to punish her.

‘Tit-bind her!' Donald declared, rising from his chair. He pushed the blonde aside as he advanced on Ginger. ‘Hang her from the walls by her nipple rings or drag her round the room by her labial piercings,' he went on, pointing a threatening finger under Ginger's nose. ‘But I don't think there's any need to use the f-word. I don't think there's any need for dirty words at all.'

Suitably censured, and shivering beneath his obvious ire, Ginger mumbled an apology.

Shaking his head, decrying the trend for slipping standards and muttering that he didn't know what the modern world was coming to, Donald collapsed back into his seat and guided the blonde's head back to his shaft. Absently he reached over her and took his mug of cocoa from the table so he could sip at the bedtime drink while she continued to suck on him.

Lucy met the fury of Ginger's eyes. She saw the redhead was unhappy with her reprimand and understood the woman blamed her for its happening. With her hopes of salvation dwindling, Lucy realised her tormentor was now going to season her punishment with added cruelty.

As if trying to prove that thought correct, Ginger pulled the rope tighter, making Lucy's breasts distend like swollen balloons. The nipples jutted out and, if she had been able to caress herself, Lucy knew the pleasure would have been bitter and enormous. From previous experience she was aware that the torment of being tit-bound made both orbs inordinately responsive.

Ginger kicked Lucy's feet from beneath her, continuing to tug on the rope as she fell to the floor. The
sudden surge of discomfort was agonising and it was only because she had trained herself not to cry out loud that Lucy was able to contain her scream. She glared angrily at Ginger but the redhead only smiled with sadistic enjoyment. Seeing the fiendish light in her grin, Lucy realised her hopes of a reprieve were now well and truly behind her.

‘Won't one of you listen to me?' she sobbed. She hadn't realised she was so close to tears until the words started to come out. Her voice trembled with an undercurrent of heartfelt distress and she switched her gaze from one inscrutable face to another. ‘Won't one of you listen to what I'm asking for? It's not like I'm wanting the world.'

‘We all know what you're asking for,' Ginger grinned. ‘I definitely know what you're asking for and I'm going to make sure you get it.'

She looked set to say more when Donald slapped his hand against the table.

Lucy and Ginger turned to watch him.

He held himself rigid, a smile wavering over his lips as every muscle in his body became taut. With a heavy sigh, a familiar groan of muted satisfaction, he relaxed and sat back heavily in the chair.

The blonde kneeling over his lap sucked harder. Whereas her cheeks had dimpled before they now bulged copiously. Studying her, Lucy could see the blonde's bright blue eyes were also bulging.

‘Quite lovely,' Donald murmured as she pulled herself away from his flailing shaft. ‘That was quite, quite lovely.'

Ginger nodded, as though she was personally accepting the compliment, then snapped her fingers for the blonde's attention. Clearly eager to obey, the blonde turned to her mistress. Her large eyes shone with obvious adoration as she stared up at Ginger
and she looked to be trying to pre-guess the woman's next instruction. Her mouth was closed firmly but Lucy thought there must have been some gap between her lips because a thin trickle of Donald's semen dribbled from the corner of her expectant smile.

‘You haven't swallowed, have you?' Ginger barked.

Carefully, clearly aware of the value of the cargo she was carrying, the blonde slowly shook her head from side to side. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth so both Lucy and Ginger could see Donald's spend coating her tongue and mingling with her saliva.

‘Well done,' Ginger snarled. ‘I'm glad I've trained you so well. Come here and spit it out.'

Lucy could see what was coming and, because she wanted no part of the shame and humiliation, she tried to struggle free. It was a futile attempt at escape and she realised she didn't stand a chance even before the redhead started pulling on her hair. Shards of pain erupted from her scalp, forcing her mouth to open even though she had no intention of crying out for mercy.

‘It was your duty to suck the master's erection and swallow his come this evening,' Ginger rasped. She lowered her face as she spoke and spittle from each sibilant peppered Lucy's cheeks and brow. ‘You might not have sucked him like you were ordered but I'll see you at least complete one part of your instruction.'