Indecent Intent

INDECENT INTENT

by

BETHANY AMBER

Indecent Intent

first published in 2001 by

Chimera Books Ltd

www.chimerabooks.co.uk

Digital edition converted and published by

Andrews UK Limited 2010

www.andrewsuk.com

Copyright © Bethany Amber

The right of Bethany Amber to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Chimera - a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy

This novel is fiction – in real life practice safe sex

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

‘You… you must punish me, master.'

‘And how should I punish you?'

Susan nibbled her lower lip anxiously, despite her excitement again bubbling tantalizingly. ‘You, you should spank me, master.'

Verity smiled above her, gazing down at the beautiful form draped submissively over his lap. He enjoyed the feel of his penis growing inside his trousers, pressing up against her tummy. ‘Very good, my dear; you are right. I should, and I will, spank you.'

‘Please…' murmured the prone girl, instinctively clenching her buttocks a little in anticipation of the coming onslaught. ‘I deserve it, master.'

Verity stroked her silky smooth bottom a little longer, then his expression became severe again, he raised his hand and paused, watching her tense and hold her breath, making her wait…

‘Ouch!' Gabrielle Turner pouted her full lips and sucked the fingers of her right hand, her brow furrowed sulkily. Her long red hair swayed about her oval face, shimmering in the blaze of electric light. Her breasts heaved within her tight T-shirt and her nipples became hard and their outline plainly visible through the straining white material as a sharp pain shot through her young body.

The sounds of Las Vegas were all around them; the electronic sounds of the slot machines, the occasional clatter of a winner's coins spilling into the collecting tray, the whirring as handles were pulled in the hope of a jackpot.

‘Oh, man!' exclaimed Tom, her husband, grinning – oblivious for the time being of his surroundings, and concentrating only on his beautiful wife. He swung her into his arms and whispered in her ear. ‘That was so
sexy
– the way you slipped your fingers between your lips. Push them in and out like you were sucking my raging cock. Go on, do it!' he urged.

Gabrielle smiled, her green eyes becoming heavy. ‘Later,' she said, and placed her fingers between her lips once more. ‘I got stung… it
hurt
.' She looked at her fingers, frowning. ‘What was it?'

Tom released her and ran to the bottom of the short flight of carpeted steps that led directly into the casino, and held out a hand to his wife.

‘Static electricity, I guess,' he explained. ‘Vegas is the most electric, the most exciting town in the whole of the States.'

Gabrielle walked down the stairs and, keeping her fingers well away from the brass handrail, placed her hand in his. ‘I'm not sure I like such painful excitement,' she said warily.

‘You little liar,' he teased. ‘You love it, and you know you do.'

‘I don't like being stung by a piece of metal,' she argued.

‘But you like being stung by the strap,' he whispered, ‘across your bare bottom until your skin burns and you beg me to fuck you.' His ice-blue eyes sparkled enthusiastically as he looked into hers, but then his gaze drifted across the noisy room and he didn't listen to her reply, but instead listened to the clatter and jingle of the countless fruit machines.

‘Are we checking in?' asked Gabrielle, not for the first time, but she couldn't gain his attention until she pressed her shapely body against his and surreptitiously slid a hand between them, rubbing his cock to swift erection in his tight and very confining jeans.

‘You little whore,' he hissed, but she smiled and gently writhed against him until he had to take her in his arms and give her a long and passionate kiss. They remained locked together until Tom could be sure he looked a little more decent, then he laughed and flung his arm round Gabrielle's slim shoulders and they were able to walk side by side, because he had regained control of his body and emotions.

‘My gorgeous little whore.' It wasn't an insult, but simply a pet name he called her in their more intimate moments. ‘My sweet little tramp.' He brushed a kiss on the lobe of her ear. ‘I guess you're right about checking into our room, and then we can have us some fun, and…'

Holding hands they walked towards the registration desk, their eyes flashing secret messages to each other as they made their way through the crowded casino. The denim jeans she wore were also tight, cutting between her plump sex lips, not that she minded feeling or even being confined, she thought with a wry smile. ‘And what?' she teased.

‘Depends on the bed,' he said, his voice low with lust.

She swayed against him, brushing her nipples against his broad chest, bringing them once more to eager erection.

‘Your cases are in your room, Mr Turner.'

The voice cut through the hubbub of the casino and interrupted their next lingering kiss, and Gabrielle swooned with arousal and her weak legs might have failed her had Tom not kept a strong arm around her waist.

‘Oh yeah, right,' he said, and Gabrielle smiled as she saw a crimson stain darken his cheeks. ‘Yeah, right,' he repeated, and pressed a crisp five-dollar bill into the bellhop's hand.

‘I guess they don't like us making love in their casino,' he said to her under his breath, as they followed the bellboy to the front desk.

‘We weren't making love,' said Gabrielle, staring enviously at an elegantly dressed female, no more than her own age, who smiled up at a distinguished looking man as they walked confidently to the elevators.

‘Almost,' corrected Tom, signing the registration card that one of the girls on the front desk pushed towards him. She had a beaming smile that showed a set of the most perfect teeth Gabrielle had ever seen.

Were all the girls in Las Vegas, she wondered, potential showgirls? She suddenly felt dowdy.

‘Okay, let's go,' said Tom, guiding her with a light pressure on her elbow to the bank of elevators.

Gabrielle hoped they didn't bump into the distinguished man or the elegant girl as they went up to their room. It was all so smart, so well groomed and luxurious; all so different to their normal lifestyle.

The elevator pinged as it arrived and the doors whispered open to allow them to enter. ‘We're on the top floor,' said Tom. ‘The thirty-sixth… near the wedding chapel.' He held her to him again, caressing the pale sweep of her neck with the tip of his tongue and she shuddered against him, feeling his hardness. ‘The bridal suite was taken,' he told her, running his fingers through the mass of red-gold curls that swept her shoulders.

‘Oh, Tom,' she murmured, her own voice husky with desire for him. ‘How can we afford all this?'

The elevator pinged again and the doors slid open to reveal three long sweeps of richly carpeted corridor. Displays of fresh exotic flowers, much out of season, exploded in brilliant colour against the muted paleness of the walls.

‘I told you,' said Tom. ‘I won at craps… big bucks.'

Gabrielle followed him, aware that her sneakers looked somewhat out of place on the deep pile carpet. ‘But how much?' she asked not for the first time.

He swiped the plastic card, the key of their room, into the door lock slot and held it open for her with a flourish. ‘How much doesn't matter, honey,' he assured her. ‘Big bucks are the only thing that matter, and I won a pile.'

Gabrielle gasped as she walked over to the floor to ceiling window. ‘The Strip,' she whispered in awe. Dusk was just falling and the lights were coming on, the billions of lights that lit up the Nevada desert. Far below her was the volcano that fronted the
Mirage
next door. Across the street were the new
Venezia
and only a few yards beyond that was the fabulous
Caesar's Palace
. ‘We're here, Tom,' she whispered. ‘We're actually here, and I love it.'

‘I knew you would, honey,' he smiled, and then pulled her to him, in a movement which, done by anyone else, would have been too rough. The T-shirt was pulled over her head and twisted around her wrists, rendering her arms helpless. She smiled and hooded her eyes, encouraging him, swaying her bare breasts against his sweatshirt. The pain in her tight pink nipples was exquisite and there was a heavy weight in her flat belly and a liquid melting in her sex.

‘Bedposts,' he murmured, glancing towards the huge four-poster that dominated the room. ‘A real colonial style bed.'

‘Hm,' she pondered, brushing her full lips against his, ‘just like we've always wanted.'

He pushed her across the room and flung her on the bed, unzipping her jeans at the same time. She was giggling like a teenager. ‘Maybe this weekend we'll win enough to live in a condo or even a house,' he said huskily. He threw her sneakers across the dusky pink carpet and tugged her jeans down her slender legs.

The giggles faded and she began to struggle against him. ‘Not more gambling?' she pleaded.

He tore the T-shirt from her wrists and pressed one trim arm hard against one of the bedposts. In the same easy movement he pulled a length of cord from his pocket, snaking it round her wrist and tying it to the oak post. ‘Sure, why else come to Vegas?' he said, a frown making him look older than his twenty-five years, but in a few more minutes he was breathing heavily with lust as he tied her other arm to the opposite bedpost.

‘But Tom, you promised,' she murmured, tugging at the bonds, but he hadn't been playing when he tied the knots. There was no escape for her.

He grabbed her cotton panties and she felt the release of tension as they ripped, hanging open and in tatters on her thighs, revealing her full mound with its bed of lush red curls.

‘That's the only pair I've got!' she squealed, almost in tears, closing her thighs and feeling the tickle of soft torn cloth against her inner thighs.

‘Never trust a gambler, honey,' he whispered, grabbing one slender ankle and tying it to a post at the foot of the bed.

‘A second honeymoon,' Gabrielle protested, despite her mounting excitement, ‘that's what you said we'd be having – that's what you promised.'

Her legs were spread to their fullest extent and she felt Tom kissing the outer lips of her cunny. She couldn't deny the pleasure that made her belly feel warm and fluid, but amidst her conflicting emotions was one of feeling let down yet again, and tears seeped from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.

A rustle of clothing told her that Tom was shrugging out of his own clothes. ‘And what's this if it's not a second honeymoon?' he scoffed.

‘But if you didn't gamble,' she whispered, ‘we could live in something so much better than that awful trailer park.' She raised her head and blinked at him through her tears. He was naked and their case was open on the floor, their few clothes strewn about the carpet as Tom hastily searched in it.

‘Got it.' He straightened up, his cock standing upright and turgid, its knob shining and forcing itself out of the foreskin, which folded neatly behind his globe. In his hand he held a short flail, with many fine leather strands. The handle was polished wood, beautifully smooth and carved in the shape of a phallus, which shone in the many colored lights from outside.

He threw himself on the bed, straddling her hips, brushing his buttocks against the curls on her mound. ‘If I didn't gamble we wouldn't even be here,' he said reasonably, then bent to kiss her.

Gabrielle's first instinct was to turn her head away, but her body betrayed her; the ache in her breasts increased and the fullness and heat of her sex was becoming unbearable. In her helpless condition, bound and spread on the bed, there was no way she could make him fuck her. She had to wait until he did it in his own time and she knew that could be hours, depending on his mood.

‘What do you want me to do first, honey?' He grinned down at her, teasing her unmercifully by letting his cock brush her trembling belly.

‘Promise me we won't go home poorer than we arrived here,' she said, choking back the sobs, trying to hold them back.

‘Oh, shit, honey,' he sat back on his heels and let the flail flick her breasts just enough to allow her to feel its sting and arch her back slightly from the bite, ‘you know I can't promise that. We might go back with less than nothing or we might go back as rich as that guy…' he struggled to remember, ‘that guy who made everything he touched turn to gold.'

‘Midas,' she supplied, looking down her body at the fine red weals that were stark across the pale flesh of her breasts.

‘Yeah, that's him… Midas.'

Despite being unhappy with Tom's continuing irresponsible attitude, Gabrielle moaned softly as she felt her sex lips being forced apart by the thickness of the polished wooden phallus. His thumb brushed the rearing little knob of her clitoris and she couldn't hold back the mew of pleasure that escaped her trembling lips. The phallus was pushed deeper into her cunt, slowly until the globe of it touched the very entrance to her womb. It was a kind of pain, but one that only added to the pleasure of his thumb's gentle caresses. He began to move it back and forth in a slow rhythmic manner, and she knew her sex was oozing a coating of sexual juice.

After what seemed an age, the pumping stopped and he drew the phallus from her, holding it close to her face. She could smell her own musk, heady and strong. In the dim light she could see the glistening of creamy droplets of her own juice. It gave her a thrill of naughtiness that brought her closer to her climax.

‘Lick it,' he ordered. ‘I want you to lick your own juice, to taste what I taste when I go down on you.'

Even though Gabrielle felt a burning flush of shame stain her face and breasts, his crudeness also increased her wantonness. She was playing the whore; just the way Tom loved her to.

The wooden cock, shining with her cream, was wiped across her parted lips. She could taste herself. It wasn't that Tom hadn't done this to her before; he had. And he had made her lick other girls. He was an artist in finding ways to humiliate her and she had to admit she enjoyed every moment of it, but somehow, in this luxurious bedroom it was different. It was as if they were defiling the sanctity of their loving. No, it was more than that. It was as if they were being watched…