House Rules (27 page)

Richard, watching from the file room, knew the moment had come. He opened the door almost as soon as Schmidt had gone, catching Hannelore by surprise. She was in the act of lifting the telephone receiver, probably to cancel her do-not-disturb order. Richard had to catch her before she did that. Even though he knew that the forthcoming interview would not be pleasant, still the old forms came to mind. ‘One moment, if you please, Madame,’ he said as he crossed to her desk.

Hannelore looked up in surprised annoyance. ‘Yes, what is it?’ she snapped.

‘I want to be the courier who takes the money to Stuttgart.’

Hannelore looked at him in amazement. ‘How did you know about that?’ Her look of puzzlement turned to rage when Richard indicated the security cameras, now motionless. ‘You … you …’ She was speechless with anger for a moment. When she continued, her voice was low and hard. ‘You have been spying on me.’

‘Well, yes,’ Richard admitted, ‘but it was in a good cause.’ His smile only enraged Hannelore more.

‘Good cause?’ she said. ‘What might that be?’ It was clear from her voice that there could be no cause good enough to allow anyone to take such liberties.

‘My freedom,’ Richard replied. ‘I told you I wanted to go back to Soltau, and this is the perfect occasion. I can carry your money at the same time. That will save transport costs, won’t it?’

Hannelore opened her mouth to wither him with a blast of rage, but Richard forestalled her.

‘You don’t really believe that I only used the cameras to spy on your business dealings, do you?’

‘What …,’ she faltered, ‘what else have you filmed?’

‘The session with Gretchen a few days ago,’ he told her. ‘She can’t be identified, but your face is plainly visible. Not to mention your excitement as you beat her. I don’t imagine Herr Schmidt would be too impressed if he knew how easily you could be compromised. Do you?’

Hannelore’s face went pale. She slumped in her chair, all the hauteur gone now, but she still managed to look desirable in her sudden vulnerability. Richard imagined it was not a pleasant situation for someone like her, but now that he had her on the run he must press on. When she recovered her poise, as she no doubt would, it would be much harder to take her by surprise again.

‘So I will be taking the trip to Stuttgart?’ he prompted her.

‘How – how do I know you are telling the truth about the video tapes? You are lying!’ she spat at him, her face reddening as her anger rekindled. But there was still doubt there.

Richard could see that Hannelore was already struggling to regain the upper hand. There was no time to lose. ‘Come into the file room and I’ll show you,’ he retorted. ‘No,’ he said, as Hannelore made a swift movement towards the telephone. He sprang to the desk and moved the instrument out of her reach. As he bent to unplug the phone from the wall, Hannelore sprang at him. Her sudden attack bore him to the floor, winded. His skirt rode up his legs, and a button popped from his suit jacket.

Had Hannelore pressed her advantage, she might have ended the fight there and then. All she needed to do was hit him over the head with something hard and heavy. Failing that, there was always the knee in the groin, which would have put him out of action just as effectively. But she made a lunge for the phone instead, allowing Richard to recover somewhat.

He grabbed her ankle as she reached across the desk, bringing her crashing down with her stomach across the edge. This time it was she who was winded. He hauled on her leg and pulled her down to the floor. Hannelore was an angry tigress. She landed fighting. She tried to claw his face, while Richard struggled to imprison her arms. He didn’t want to hurt her, while she had no such compunction. A quick punch to the face would have put her out, but he had to content himself with one to the stomach. When she slumped, gasping for breath, he got astride her and held her arms down with his own.

It was an impasse. Hannelore struggled, trying to dislodge him and managing to look both angry and desirable, while Richard strove to hold her down. His priority was to get away, with or without her cooperation. She was intent on regaining both her dignity and her control of him and the situation. The battle was carried on silently for the most part: grunts of effort from Hannelore and thumps as he pinned her down once more. Her own skirt was around her hips and her blouse gaping open, but Richard had no time to admire the view.

With a heave, Richard managed to turn Hannelore on to her side. He twisted one of her arms behind her back, levering her wrist up between her shoulders until she cried out with pain. He turned her face down and held her arm up until she stopped kicking and struggling. Carefully, he manoeuvered her until they could stand up, then he marched her across to the file room, where packing materials were stored. He would have to tie her before making his escape, and he had to keep her quiet long enough to let her see the tape so that she would know what he could do to her.

In the file room, Richard held Hannelore’s face against the wall with one hand, while he pulled down a roll of packaging twine with the other. With difficulty, he wrestled her arms behind her back and tied her wrists together. When she knew she was helpless, all the fight went out of her, though she was still very angry. Richard thought she made a fine sight with her breasts peeping through her unbuttoned blouse and her skirt high up her thighs.

‘Now be quiet and watch the screen,’ Richard told her. He inserted one of the tape cassettes from his handbag and started the player.

Hannelore’s anger faded as she watched the replay of the last session with Gretchen. It was replaced first by worry, no doubt the worry about what would happen if her business clients and partners saw the gusto with which she lashed Gretchen’s bottom and thighs. The worry gave way in turn to interest. The next stage was arousal, becoming plain as she watched herself inserting the handle of the riding crop in Gretchen’s backside. By the time she began lashing Gretchen between her legs, Hannelore was clearly on the edge of orgasm. And even now, merely watching it on the monitor, she was becoming excited all over again.

Richard, watching her, saw her breathing quicken and her nipples begin to show through her blouse as they erected. He could understand that readily enough. He was excited by the tape himself. But there was the matter of what to do next. When the tape ended, he stood before Hannelore.

‘So. What about the trip to Stuttgart? Still don’t want me to go?’

Hannelore came back to the present abruptly. Richard could see the excitement replaced by business.

‘Of course, I do not want you to go, but I have no choice.’ Hannelore managed to include both the matter of the tape and her own helplessness in the ‘no choice’.

‘Since that’s settled, we need to make some immediate plans. When that’s done, we can discuss the future.’ Richard stepped smoothly into the power vacuum he had engineered. ‘You will call Gretchen and have her send my suitcase to the bank with the chauffeur. Tell her that she is to return with the chauffeur to collect you in the evening. You can either tell her you need her to work late, or you can imply that she is in for another session like the one on the tape. Either way, she will do whatever you say.’

‘Unlike others,’ Hannelore said, with a return of the old manner. She glared at him.

‘I didn’t mind obeying you. I enjoyed the games too,’ Richard told her. ‘It’s just that I have some things I must do back in Germany. Under other circumstances, I could have liked it here.’

Hannelore was only partly mollified by his words. She shrugged. ‘Get on with the next step,’ she said.

Richard shrugged in his turn. He had not expected the olive branch to mean much to someone like Hannelore Bern. ‘After I have changed clothes, I will simply take the case to the railway station and get on a train to Stuttgart. There I will deliver the case and go back to Margaret Wagner’s estate, as I planned.’ He didn’t tell her what he had planned after that. ‘You needn’t worry about the money. It will be delivered to whomever you designate.’

‘I wasn’t worried about that,’ Hannelore replied. She did not mean that she relied solely on his honesty. The reliance was based more fundamentally on the courier’s desire to remain healthy. ‘I meant, what about me? I could have you stopped before you left the bank, and those tapes taken from you. After that you would be returned to me, and things would not be very pleasant for you. My guards will do whatever I tell them and ask no questions.’

‘I have sent copies of the tapes back to Soltau for safekeeping,’ Richard told her. Of course he was bluffing, and he hoped his voice did not betray him. He also had to make an effort not to look at the copies he had hidden among the other cassettes. ‘If I do not arrive shortly after they do, the package will be opened. You can imagine the results. Margaret Wagner might be very interested in the tapes.’

Hannelore obviously thought that having the tapes fall into Margaret’s hands would be as bad as having them delivered to her other associates. There couldn’t be much loyalty or fellow feeling among the financial sharks who ran the big money operations. The blood from one of their wounded members might well spark off a feeding frenzy.

‘In any case,’ Richard continued, ‘I plan to leave you here tied and gagged. I will need the time to get away in case you change your mind, or decide to take your chances anyway. Gretchen will arrive after I’m gone, and she can untie you – or do whatever else takes her fancy. Who knows,’ Richard said tauntingly, ‘she might take the chance to repay you for the beating you gave her in the barn.’

‘She would not dare,’ Hannelore said.

Richard, watching her closely, saw that she was nevertheless excited by the idea. Maybe Gretchen would not beat her mistress. But he could. He said nothing to Hannelore about it, however. Surprise would best carry the day. As he helped Hannelore to her feet, he allowed himself to stare at her nearly naked breasts and the length of thigh above her rucked-up skirt. She reddened with anger but said nothing. Together they went back into her office. He sat her in her chair and tied her ankles with more of the parcel twine from the file room.

While she glared at him in silent anger, he picked up the telephone and began to issue the orders to Gretchen and the chauffeur in Hannelore’s name. As he had expected, the orders were accepted without demur. He replaced the receiver and turned to Hannelore.

This time Richard allowed himself to stare openly at her state of deshabille. ‘We have a few hours to wait,’ Richard told her. ‘How do you think we should pass the time?’ Hannelore reddened again but said nothing. Was there just the merest hint of interest there? Richard asked himself.

Instead of taking Hannelore’s clothes off immediately, he looked around the office. The riding crop she had used on Gretchen was lying on the conference table across the room. He went to fetch it, studying the bound woman who sat in the chair as he came back. Her eyes were wide with disbelief and, yes, just the merest hint of interest and excitement.

‘No,’ said Hannelore. ‘Don’t even think of that.’

‘You mean you’ve never wondered what it was like to be on the receiving end? I’ve been watching you, and I think you want to find out. And I want to find out what it’s like on the giving end. A little role reversal never hurt anyone. And your tits are just begging for the lash.’

Hannelore’s eyes widened in – what? Fear? Anticipation? Richard never knew. He slashed at her breasts, which were jutting through the front of her blouse, protected by nothing more substantial than her sheer, transparent bra. The blow landed, and Hannelore flinched, almost falling backward with the chair. She cried out at the shock. Richard waited. When she recovered, she hunched forward protectively before he could strike her again. The next blow landed on the tops of her thighs, leaving a red mark beneath the shiny stockings. Hannelore cried out again, jerking away from the lash, and this time she did fall over, landing on the thick carpet with a thump.

She rolled clear of the chair, struggling against the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles. When she saw him raise the crop for another blow, she screamed, ‘Help me!’ as loudly as she could.

The noise level gave Richard pause. The office was probably soundproof, but there was no way to be sure, and he didn’t want the security guards making trouble. He laid the crop aside and bent to untie Hannelore’s ankles. She interpreted this as a gesture of capitulation and didn’t scream again. Indeed, her face began to resume some of its earlier hauteur.

It was interesting to watch the look turn to incredulous surprise as he took her pants off with one jerk, ripping the flimsy material. Hannelore opened her mouth and drew a deep breath, preparatory to uttering another scream. Richard stuffed the torn pants into her mouth and used the twine from her ankles to tie them in place. Hannelore’s face was bright red over the gag. Her fury could only express itself in a series of loud grunts as she fought to free herself and to eject the gag.

Richard stood up and moved across to the file room. The cameras covering Hannelore’s office were all ready to run, fresh tape cassettes in place. He switched them on and went back to Hannelore, who was still trying to free her hands. He gestured to the camera near her desk. ‘I’ll leave the tape with you so you can enjoy this in retrospect.’

Hannelore gave him a furious look and continued to struggle. Richard waited until she rolled over on to her back. Then he brought the crop down on her breasts again. They bobbed under the blow. He could see the faint red mark through her bra. Hannelore let out a loud grunt of pain, even though he had used far less than his full strength. She rolled and bucked as he continued to lash her: stomach, thighs, back, breasts, shoulders, bottom. And as he lashed her, Richard felt himself becoming aroused. Earlier he had wondered what it would be like to wield the whip himself. Now he knew. The familiar stirring in the belly, the stiffening of the cock inside the tight corselet, the shortness of breath, all the signs were there. And he knew what he was going to do.

Richard laid the crop on Hannelore’s desk and took off his suit jacket. Next the skirt and blouse. Hannelore watched him with incredulity and growing alarm. When she caught his eye, she shook her head, no. If she could have spoken, she might even have added ‘please’, though maybe not. Richard caught her mood. He guessed that it was not the shy virgin act. Hannelore knew far too much about sex and sexual arousal for that. It was more likely the loss of face and authority she wanted to avoid: if the dominatrix were reduced to sweaty sexual partner, she would have a hard time resuming her former role.