Hot Pursuit (28 page)

Lucy tried to glance at Ginger, anxious to see how she was going to respond, but the redhead's face was hidden by shadows. Her hand remained raised, as though she was ready to deliver the blow she had been threatening, but it was clear that she wouldn't administer the punishment until she had her master's explicit permission.

Frustrated, Lucy tensed the muscles of her thighs. She was torn between a need to either dispel her lust or sate its nagging demand. The pulse of arousal throbbed deep within her cleft and she quietly yearned to feel the flat of Ginger's hand hit hard against her backside. The hateful need was sickening in intensity, and made her feel weak and craven for requiring such punishment. But she couldn't ignore its relentless insistence.

‘Come along,' Donald encouraged. Only raising his voice slightly he managed to convey a promise of retribution that was far more ferocious than Ginger had ever managed with all her viciously hissed threats and warnings. ‘Tell me,' he insisted. ‘What was more important than obeying your master's express summons for you to return to his side?'

‘I . . .' Ginger began.

Lucy was elated to think that the redhead might be on the verge of floundering. If Ginger was unable to provide Donald with a satisfactory excuse for her disobedience she believed there was a chance to escape the indignity of suffering the favourite's punishment
and clarify her own reasons for running away.

‘Come along,' Donald snapped. Now his voice was tinged by a trace of irritation. ‘Without swearing, or lying, tell me what was more important than obeying your master's express summons for you to return to his side?'

‘I . . .'

‘She was pursuing me,' Anne told him.

They all turned to glance at the door.

Lucy wondered when her friend had appeared, and how much of the exchange she had witnessed. She could see the puzzled expression on Anne's features a combination of unease and intrigue but neither of those emotions were as obvious as her transparent excitement. Her lips pouted as though they ached to be kissed, her chest rose and fell with the breathless tempo of excitement and her nipples stood blushed and erect.

Slyly, Anne glanced in Lucy's direction and they made the briefest eye contact.

Used to reading desires and drives, the single exchange was enough for Lucy to understand why her friend had returned. Her expression was the same as it had been on the day they met in a faraway service station and when they said farewell outside the stables. Dimly, Lucy realised her needs had remained unchanged throughout all their adventures: Anne simply wanted to be by her side.

‘Who are you?' Donald enquired.

Anne introduced herself, demurely referring to herself as ‘an acquaintance of Lucy's', and blushed dutifully, beneath the master's appreciative inspection. Despite her mild embarrassment, the symptoms of her arousal never abated and Lucy sympathised with that response.

Her own excitement had already exceeded phenomenal proportions. The expectation of Ginger's hand hovering in the air and threatening to land when she least expected was a perpetual torment. The air in the dining room seemed to be tinged with scents of the master's spend and her own copious musk and she felt sure someone as perceptive as Anne would be instantly attuned to the mood.

Stepping gracefully through the doorway, Anne carried herself with a majesty that reminded Lucy of all the reasons why she found the woman so insatiable. ‘Ginger was pursuing me,' Anne told Donald. ‘I believe she wanted to honour you with the capture of a runaway. That's why she ignored your instructions for her to return.'

He held out a hand for her and, amazing Lucy, Anne walked over to him and accepted his invitation when he gestured for her to sit on his knee. She was naked and her body still bore the marks from the harness and straps she had worn for the pony-carting but she looked even more irresistible than when she and Lucy first met. Seating herself gently on his thigh, seemingly unmindful that her bare breast was touching his chest, and that the downy hairs of her pubic triangle were on display, Anne graced Donald with a coquettish grin. He placed an avuncular hand on her thigh and, in a silent exchange, Lucy watched him pass her a questioning glance which Anne answered with a smile of encouragement.

‘Ginger didn't find Lucy at first,' Anne explained. ‘But she interrogated me, although I wasn't much help to her.'

Donald nodded, and tried to look as though he was listening, but the line of his gaze gave him away. He was leering at the sight of Anne's large breasts, occasionally licking his lips and slowly inching his
hand higher up her leg. Lucy empathised with the distraction because her own gaze was constantly drawn to Anne's bare body. As much as she wanted to concentrate on events in the room it was nearly impossible to stop herself from admiring the darkly tinged curls that covered the lips of Anne's sex.

‘That's why she had to ignore your cries for her to return,' Anne said earnestly. ‘If she'd gone back when you called she would have lost me and potentially spoilt your chances of retrieving your favourite. She did it for you.'

Lucy was unable to suppress a smile when she caught those last few sentiments. It didn't matter that Anne's words had given Ginger a reprieve and condemned her, or that they had spoilt any chance of fate working in her favour and saving her from the cruellest brand of Ginger and Donald's punishment. The fact that her new friend was nearby, and making herself known to their master, was enough to offer comfort.

‘You may carry on with Kitten's discipline,' Donald told Ginger.

He didn't bother wrenching his gaze from Anne to give the instruction. He merely waved at his favourite in a haphazard gesture of encouragement. When he lowered his hand it only seemed natural that it should fall to the swell of her breast and he and Anne touched foreheads as they shared a lewd and knowing exchange.

Lucy was still grinning at the master's obvious approval for her friend when Ginger slapped a hand across her bottom. Both cheeks were raked by the redhead's fingernails and the smack of her palm resounded through her frame. Pushed forward by the blow, her aching nipples forced hard against the table, Lucy was instantly brought back to the immediacy of her punishment.

The open hand rained down on her like a blacksmith's hammer striking an anvil. Lucy could almost picture the sparks erupting from her cheeks as Ginger relentlessly struck blow after blow. Her buttocks quickly became numb to the discipline and the hateful warmth melted the muscles between her legs. A slick wetness coated the lips of her sex and, as the glistening lustre grew thicker, she felt the first unwanted spasms begin to rack their way through her frame.

‘I'll show you what happens to runaways,' Ginger grunted.

She paused intermittently, occasionally pushing her hand between Lucy's shoulder blades, or sometimes grazing her fingers against the lips of her sex. Neither action was designed to give Lucy any purchase of relief the extra weight on her back forced her breasts more painfully against the table top, and the torment at her sex incited a deeper need for punishment and satisfaction but Ginger was adept at controlling subordinates and she effortlessly made the most of Lucy's vulnerable position.

‘I'll show you a reprimand that will make you think twice before running away.'

Every word was punctuated by another crisp blow to Lucy's backside. The flesh was reddened by the repeated slaps and then the insidious warmth began to creep beneath her skin. The tingling heat bristled against her labia and fuelled an urgent longing in the centre of her sex. Unaware that she had given into the punishment, Lucy released a faltering groan.

‘Perhaps we need to keep you tied down with chains and weights,' Ginger suggested. ‘Maybe that would stop you from going walkabout as soon as our backs are turned.'

Lucy closed her eyes to staunch the threat of tears. She now knew what was coming, even before Ginger
began to rummage on the dining table. Her fears were confirmed when the redhead snatched a weighted length of chain from in amongst the feast.

Ginger grinned with wicked triumph.

‘Please,' Lucy started weakly.

The sound of her voice was little more than a whisper and easily drowned out by the clatter of links dancing against links. Ginger pushed one hand between her buttocks, spreading the cheeks further apart, and with her other she threaded one end of the chain through Lucy's labial piercings. It was an indignity she had suffered before a familiar thrill accompanied the swell of each link as it tugged on her body jewellery but Lucy had never grown properly accustomed to this particular brand of torment.

‘You ran away from my master,' Ginger grunted bitterly.

Lucy's body was buffeted by a lurching desire. The chain had been threaded through all of her piercings and its weight pulled it down. The passage of each link rubbed brutally against her pulsing clitoris.

‘You've brought outsiders into our realm,' the redhead growled.

Lucy bit the insides of her cheeks to prevent herself from crying out. The pleasure was too much more than she had anticipated and too debilitating to let her consider arguing her case. She thought about cursing Ginger then decided it would do her no good, and might possibly anger Donald. Miserably she realised there was nothing left for her to do except remain bent over the table and endure the full force of Ginger's noxious chastisement.

Indifferent to the suffering she was inspiring, Ginger allowed the weighted chain to slip further down through the channel of Lucy's piercings. ‘You flipped a V at me on the motorway,' she complained.
‘And you tricked me with your duplicitous little stunt with the pony-cart.' She tugged not sharply but with sufficient force to wring a blazing bolt of agony from Lucy's sex lips.

The explosion of pain was swift and left her shivering on the precipice of orgasm. Her entire body screamed for the release of that pleasure but Lucy told herself to resist, not sure she would be able to contain her exclamation if she succumbed now. Confused, and trying to fight the pleasure, she drew breath in greedy, gasping gulps.

‘You did all those things,' Ginger scowled, ‘and then you think you can just come strolling back to the master and resume your role as his second favourite.'

For an instant Lucy thought she had been given a reprieve. The weight at her sex was suddenly removed and the torment at her labia and clitoris were almost nonexistent. Surprised, she blinked back the tears that had been clouding her vision and glanced back over her shoulder to see what had happened.

Ginger held the chain in her hand, cupping the links and the weighted end so there was no pressure. When she saw that Lucy was watching her, her smile blossomed brightly and she said, ‘I'll show you the discipline a runaway really fucking deserves.'

She dropped the weighted chain from her hand.

‘Ginger!' Donald exclaimed.

Lucy didn't hear him as she recoiled from the raw fury that ripped through her sex. She didn't get to see Ginger cringe from the anger in Donald's voice, or hear the redhead mumble a string of obsequious apologies. Languishing in a haze of blissful agony, she was only able to rock herself from side to side on the table and try to come to terms with the surge of hateful pleasure.

‘You know that I don't like vulgarities,' Donald complained.

Lucy heard his words, but they made no sense. She glanced briefly in the master's direction, caught a glimpse of Anne's concern, and tried to pass her a reassuring smile. The gesture felt pathetically inadequate but it was the best she could manage. Ginger's act of wicked discipline had pushed Lucy beyond the realm of resistance and she revelled in the tormented release of her climax.

At the back of her mind she fretted that Ginger might have injured her her labia ached from the ill-treatment and her sex lips continued to tingle even after the last vestiges of the orgasm had subsided from her body but she didn't think the risk of lasting damage was really likely. The redhead was meticulous in her role as Donald's disciplinarian and Lucy knew that Ginger wouldn't want to maim a victim because it might spoil the rich source of her personal pleasure. The thoughts swayed lazily through her mind, as unhurried and deliberate as the pendulum-like weight that rocked back and forth between her legs.

‘There's no need for invective,' Donald complained. ‘And I find it particularly unpleasant when I'm entertaining a guest. For the last time, Ginger, and I won't warn you again, kindly stop using that infernal f-word.'

She mumbled another apology and slumped her shoulders so that she looked suitably cowed.

But Lucy was close enough to see the redhead's face and it was clear that the repentance was little more than an act. She swallowed her rising nerves, shocked that Ginger could so easily deceive their master.

‘I'm sorry, sire,' Ginger mumbled. ‘I didn't mean to cause you embarrassment.'

‘And don't lie to Kitten like that,' he added querulously. ‘I'm sure you know, as well as I do, that
you're not giving her the official reprimand. She's been classed as a runaway, therefore her official reprimand is scheduled for tomorrow.'

Lucy had the opportunity to glance up and she saw that Donald was openly fondling Anne. He held one breast in his hand, teasing the hardened thrust of her nipple between his fingertips and grinning at her as she tested tentative fingers against his erection. After Ginger's pet blonde had sucked him she hadn't returned his spent length to the confines of his trousers. Lucy was both delighted and appalled when she saw that Anne was taking the initiative to please the master. Overjoyed by the sight of their interaction, she barely heard the remainder of Donald and Ginger's ominous exchange.

‘Are you saying this bitch is to have an official punishment?'

Donald winced at her harsh tone. ‘It's customary. It's the tradition.' He relaxed back in his chair while Anne worked on his erection with her wrist. The purple dome of his glans stood swollen against his length and her slender fingers looked somehow fragile as they struggled to circle his girth. Watching avidly, Lucy could see the blush of excited colour that now tinged Anne's pussy lips. The outer labia were a dark pink and the inner lips were dewy with a lustre of viscous arousal. The dark curls that had held her attention before grew denser with wetness. With her own excitement still fresh enough to leave a coppery flavour at the back of her throat, Lucy wished she could savour the intimate taste of her new friend.