Susie Learns the Hard Way (29 page)

There were noises in the black space around her, running feet and shouting, but she hardly heard them as she urged the monster towards her climax, and the camera swung back to catch her face as it twisted in the agony of delight as she wailed and gasped and her climax tightened every muscle in her body, clamping her to the huge shaft that penetrated between her legs.

As her contractions slowed and her fingers relaxed their grip on the scaly green flanks, Susie's attention focused on the real world again, and she became aware that there was a ring of figures looking down on her. Slowly she realised they were all wearing blue uniforms.

The Police!

Looking wildly around she saw they were everywhere. The cameraman was being handcuffed, as was Jim the stagehand, and two policemen were already leading Kirk away as one of the officers who'd been watching Susie in the throes of her climax leaned forward and tapped the still moving Zoid on the shoulder.

There was a grunt from inside the head as the policeman pulled at him. Susie's eyes widened and a desperate moan escaped her lips; the Zoid jigged furiously and the policeman tugged harder and ten inches of glistening erection popped into view, squirting thick jets of fluid as the hips thrashed wildly and it waved around like a mad thing.

‘You dirty bastard,' cursed one of the policemen, stepping back quickly as the fluid splashed and pooled onto Susie's trembling tummy.

‘Dirty lucky bastard,' another said gruffly, still staring.

‘I'll take care of her now,' said someone else, and a uniformed female figure stepped close and held Susie's raincoat for her.

 

 

 

Susie had tried to explain to the Inspector who she was and why she was there, but the uniformed policewoman seemed to be disbelieving. Nor was there any sign of Harry, who should have been outside ready to spring to the rescue. But perhaps he cleared off when he saw the police arrive, though Susie couldn't think why; with all this going on the photographer should have been there snapping the pictures while Harry got the story as the drug maker was finally brought to light.

The Inspector had apparently been summoned specially to look after her, even though she didn't seem to know who she was or what she was doing posing as a porno actress. She'd escorted Susie to the dressing room, where she stood and watched her wash off the droids cloying emission and dress with glinting blue eyes, cutting short all Susie's repeated attempts to explain or ask questions.

‘We'll sort it all out later,' was all she'd say.

‘Can I call the office?' Susie wanted to know; she had to get this mess straightened out quickly.

‘There'll be time for that later,' was the unbending reply.

‘I could use my mobile.' It was in her handbag.

‘No.'

‘Am I under arrest, or something?'

‘You're helping me with my enquiries.'

‘I may not want to help you with them,' she said, hoping she sounded braver than she felt. She'd never had any dealings with the police before, and to be honest, the whole thing was a little scary. All right, quite a lot scary.

‘Yes you do, and you're coming with me.' And if that hadn't put a stop to it, the Inspector produced a pair of metal handcuffs and secured Susie's hands together in front of her. ‘Put this on,' she said gruffly, and draped the raincoat over Susie's shoulders, before guiding her across the set, now deserted except for two policemen, who seemed to be guarding against anybody returning to tamper with whatever evidence they felt was there. Then they were outside and she was being helped into the back of a police car, before the Inspector sat in the front and drove smartly away.

They drove through a bewildering maze of roads that all looked the same, until they eased to a halt in a deserted street, barely lit by its few lights.

The Inspector climbed out, walked round to the back and opened the door.

‘What's happening?' asked Susie nervously, shying away from the outstretched hands as the Inspector reached in.

‘The paparazzi will be outside the station. You don't want to be on the late news, do you? And the front page of all tomorrow's papers?'

‘No, I don't,' she replied honestly, and it wasn't necessary to fake her concerns. She remembered only too well what had happened last time the editor had seen her picture unexpectedly. The thought of all that shouting and fist banging made her lean forward so the Inspector could cover her head and shoulders with the coat.

The Inspector got back in the front and the car jolted as it drove off. ‘It's just round the corner,' she said over her shoulder. ‘We'll pull up sharply and I'll get you inside as quick as I can.'

Susie's voice was muffled as she thanked the policewoman, grateful for the anonymity, and almost at once she felt the car slowing sharply. The tyres squealed to a halt and the Inspector was out of the driving seat, yanking the passenger door open and pulling Susie's arm. ‘This way,' she said urgently. ‘They haven't seen us yet,' and she pulled Susie out of the back and guided her through a door that slammed shut behind them. The Inspector kept moving and their footsteps echoed down a passageway, then Susie was bundled through another door that thumped solidly shut with a disturbingly resonant boom.

‘Okay,' said the Inspector, and pulled off the coat.

Susie looked around, blinking sheepishly against the one naked bulb which glared brightly and hung at the end of a cobweb covered chord from the low ceiling. There was no doubt she was in a small cell; brick walls painted pale green, heavy steel door, and no window. In the corner was a small metal bed with a dirty mattress, and beside it a chair, a metal washbasin, and a metal toilet bowl without a lid or a seat.

‘I'll take the cuffs off now,' offered the Inspector, breaking the grim silence. ‘Sit down,' she said, indicating the chair, an uncomfortable looking thing, no more than a metal tube frame with a small ply seat. Susie perched uncomfortably on the edge of it while the Inspector bent and undid the handcuffs with a small key on a chain. She'd taken her hat off, and the cropped blonde hair seemed familiar, but the feeling of relief as one hand was freed from the handcuffs occupied Susie's attention. Still, there was something about the thin lips and ice-blue eyes that was more than a little unsettling, and as the Inspector took a firm hold of Susie's other wrist with its dangling bracelet and – with alarming stealth – moved behind her, Susie shouted, ‘Hey!' at the same instant as the handcuff click shut again. A swift tug told her her hand was trapped behind her back, fastened to the chair. She struggled to free it, and while she did the policewoman seized her other wrist and pulled it painfully behind the chair too. There was another ratcheting sound, and her other arm was fastened behind her back as well, held by another pair of handcuffs. She was secured to the back legs, so she could move her arms a little, but only to the extent of the short chains between the unrelenting circles of steel.

‘This isn't normal procedure, surely?' she said, still unnerved by her arrest, and becoming increasingly frightened.

‘It is for me,' and the Inspector pulled a third set of cuffs from the open flap pocket of her briefcase, bent down and with two practised movements she clipped Susie's ankle in one of the jaws and the chair leg with the other, holding it as firmly as her wrists. By lifting her thigh and bending her knee Susie could slide the steel circle up the leg of the chair, allowing her to get her foot up level with the seat, but that was all. There was no other movement allowed.

‘Hey,' she protested, as she realised this was most definitely not normal procedure. She aimed a kick at her unorthodox captor, but the Inspector dodged it contemptuously, snatched the flailing foot, and produced a fourth pair of cuffs, which she used to clip the ankle she held and twisted, so that poor Susie squealed with the pain, to the last vacant chair leg. Held fast by ankle and wrist, Susie shouted, ‘Help! Hey, somebody help me!' With panic rising, she strained against the unyielding restraints, which rattled and chinked as she squirmed on the seat.

‘Yell all you want, my pretty.' The Inspector smiled a thin, evil smile. ‘No one can hear you.' Her cold blue eyes raked over Susie's blouse, which fought valiantly to contain her generous breasts as she tried in vain to free herself, the buttons near to bursting and displaying an enticing view of her shadowy cleavage. ‘And struggle all you want,' the Inspector continued smugly. ‘You'll not get free, but it's a very enjoyable sight.' A tongue flickered out and licked dry thin lips.

Susie stopped moving immediately, not wanting to do anything that pleased the weird woman. ‘You can't keep me here like this,' she panted, her exertions causing her breasts to swell invitingly inside the taut blouse.

‘Do you know,' said the Inspector, ‘I think I probably can.'

‘But what about everyone else, the other policemen, prisoners even? And lawyers...' she added, with a burst of inspiration, ‘...yes, that's it, I want to call my lawyer.'

The Inspector looked pleased. ‘Oh, I don't think you quite understand. This isn't a police cell, my little angel.' Her sneer was getting broader and nastier. ‘It's not even a police station. This is a private establishment, one which seldom has visitors, and then only when I, er, invite them specially. Like you.' She cupped Susie's chin, raising it, forcing her to meet the Inspector's stare.

‘Well what's the point then?' Susie demanded bravely. ‘Why am I here? What do you want from me?'

‘I've brought you here for my amusement, my little peach. And as for what I want...' and she swooped down to plant her lips firmly onto Susie's in a deep, lingering kiss, her sinewy tongue flickering out like a reptile's, searching for a way into Susie's mouth.

Susie flung her head to one side and the Inspector leaned quickly away. ‘You'll regret that, you know,' she said evenly. ‘And soon after you regret it, you'll let me kiss you. In fact, you'll be
begging
me to kiss you. And you know what? I might not. I might just let you beg.'

Still staring into Susie's eyes, she stood up and unbuttoned her tunic. Peeling it off, she folded it carefully and laid it on the low bed.

Looking at Susie, making certain she was watching every move, the Inspector unbuttoned the front of her crisply starched shirt, took it off also, laid it reverently on the bed beside the tunic, and straightened to reveal small breasts in a black bra. She stayed still for a moment, showing herself to her voluptuous captive, and then she unzipped the uniform skirt and stepped out of it. While folding it she held it carefully away from her body, letting Susie see her suspenders, black stockings and black knickers. She bent to place the skirt carefully on the bed too, muscles tensing in the back of her thin legs, taut buttocks stretching the black silk. When she stood up to her full height and turned back to face Susie with her feet planted firmly apart, Susie knew her at once.

The last time she'd seen her she'd been using a whip on a small blonde girl as she licked at Susie's sex, and the memory of that night made her shudder. And as she realised how vulnerable she was she felt another warm surge as fear gripped her tummy.

The Inspector groped in a pocket of the neatly folded tunic and opened a small silver object: a penknife!

Taking a firm hold of Susie's blouse she tugged, and Susie whimpered with alarm. The blouse pulled out of her waistband and the knife sliced, removing one button at a time, and as the sharp little blade worked lower into the space where her legs were parted beneath her skirt, Susie felt fear soaking into the black thong the Inspector had permitted her to put back on when she dressed.

Her blouse hung open from the tips of her breasts, and the Inspector stood, her own lace-covered mound inches from Susie's face, close enough for her to feel the warmth and smell the heated musk mingling with the scent of perfume and soap.

The Inspector reached out and separated the two halves of the blouse, exposing Susie's breasts, swelling firmly inside their bra. Then she cut the blouse into ribbons, leaving thin strips dangling here and there, Susie's breasts thrusting between the rags, exposed, accessible, vulnerable... And then Susie closed her eyes and held her breath as the cold metal slid slowly into her deep cleavage. There was an awful pause, and then the blade sliced upward, her bra burst apart and Susie's gorgeous breasts spilled free, quivering firmly, the absence of the flimsy support doing nothing to diminish the proud thrust of them. Susie breathed again, and opened her eyes to watch what the despicable woman intended next.

The Inspector had thin cold fingers. They curled underneath Susie's breasts, felt the weight of her, juggling the elastic bounce of her young muscles, and then pinched savagely at her nipples, the sudden pain making the trussed girl inhale sharply.

‘Say sorry,' hissed the Inspector.

‘Say what...?' Susie began, uncomprehending.

The finger and thumb squeezed spitefully again, making Susie squirm in her anguish.

‘I said, say sorry.' The voice was harsher.

‘But I—' the finger and thumb pinched again, catching the words in her throat.