The Black Room (11 page)

‘Good?’ Nick asked, curiously.

‘Don’t stop,’ Jo hissed through gritted teeth. ‘Faster. More,’ she implored him urgently.

Nick continued, his pace becoming furious as he pushed the phallus vigorously in and out of her anal canal. Repeatedly he pulled it from within her, allowing the sphincter to tighten before pushing it back inside her. Each time he did this, Jo shrieked excitedly and urged him to continue. His fingers remained inside her but they were no longer content to gently rub the sensitive inner flesh. Instead, Nick began to slide them in and out of her pussy with the same hastening pace he was employing with the soap. Unconsciously, he adopted a rhythm where his fingers slid into her vagina as the soap pulled out of her anus. When the soap pushed inside her, Jo felt his fingers sliding from between her lips. It meant that she was not without something inside her. She was constantly being filled, either by the delicious bar of soap or Nick’s expert fingers. She doubted he could have gone faster had he tried, yet still she heard herself urging him to increase the speed of his actions.

When the huge orgasm finally hit her, Jo roared with guttural satisfaction. The sound came from some unplumbed animal depths deep within her. Wave after wave of delighted explosions caused shiver upon shiver to course through her body. The intensity was so ferocious Jo felt sure she would leave fingernail marks embedded in the porcelain sides of the bath. Nick continued to plunge the phallus and his finger into her, but she brushed his hands away, fearful of how intense another orgasm might prove to be.

‘Screw me, Nick,’ she whispered. ‘Get in here and screw me,’ she told him hoarsely.

Needing no further prompting, Nick quickly stepped out of his clothes and lowered himself into the bath with Jo. He knelt between her legs, then slid himself backwards, until the tip of his eager cock was pushing against her belly. Jo grabbed Nick’s length in one hand and took a moment to admire the wide girth and the desperate throb of his pulse. Beneath the water his cock felt harder than usual and she wondered if this was a phenomenon caused by the bath water, or a symptom of his arousal. Either way, she knew she was going to enjoy having such a rigid dick filling her hot, wet hole.

He kissed her lovingly on the mouth and she responded in kind. His hands found her breasts and massaged them deftly, caressing the curves and swell of her orbs with infinite tenderness.

Jo sighed wonderingly, unable to believe her body could still be so responsive after so many powerful orgasms. She guided his cock between her legs and rubbed the tip slowly against her pussy lips. The swollen end of his dick was the only part of his cock that did not feel like it had been carved from stone. Its pliant pressure against the tenderness of her labia was urgent and she once again found herself on the edge of an earth-shattering orgasm. Pulling Nick’s foreskin back as far as she could, Jo gripped the base of his shaft and guided him into the heat of her wet opening.

They groaned in unison, unable to find words to express their mutual pleasure. Nick rode slowly in and out of Jo’s tight, warm hole, his cock seeming to swell with each thrust. Jo kept a tight hold of his cock, keeping his foreskin held back as he pushed into her. It was a technique she knew he had always appreciated in the past but this was not her only reason for employing it. The sensation of his cock inside her was divine. Her feelings for Nick had not disappeared when they parted and she was determined to make this as good an evening for him as he had made it for her.

They enjoyed one another with furious abandon. Nick’s cock filled Jo each time he pushed into her. When he withdrew, the pressure of the water against her labia seemed to reinforce her emptiness. Jo helped to accelerate his swift pace by bucking her hips on to him. Water splashed over the sides of the bath as their urgency intensified. Jo heard herself screaming for him to ejaculate as another orgasm threatened to blast its way through her body.

When Nick did climax, his seed shot deeply into her, burning her heated warmth with the vehement force of his excitement. Jo barely heard his howl of delight, drowning the sound with her own cry of gratified bliss. Her earlier orgasms had been far more intense but this one was better. The pleasure was so deeply fulfilling it outshone the others and made them pale in comparison.

They held one another tightly for a while, content to lie in the bath together, entwined the way true lovers should be. When Nick began to kiss her softly on the cheeks and forehead, Jo realised she had fallen into a light daze.

‘I can’t believe how much I’ve missed you,’ Nick whispered in her ear.

‘I can’t believe I moved out of this flat when you’re so bloody good,’ Jo told him earnestly.

Nick moved away, a bashful smile playing over his lips in spite of the intimacy they had just shared. He stepped out of the bath, reached for a towel and passed it to Jo as he helped her out.

She smiled, touched by his unfashionable chivalry, and accepted the towel gratefully. And now you have to work him for information, she told herself cynically. The thought seemed perversely cruel, particularly after he had pleased her so adeptly with little thought for his own enjoyment. She tried to dismiss this notion but it kept recurring to her as she towelled herself dry. Each movement of the rough cotton against her body inspired a memory of the pleasure he had given. As she towelled her breasts dry, the nipples responded to her touch. Her legs shivered when she pressed the towel against them and, for a moment, she hesitated before putting the cloth between her legs.

‘Earlier,’ she began, hating herself furiously for the conversation she was trying to instigate. ‘Earlier, you said the Pentagon Temping Agency was a group I should stay clear of.’

Nick nodded. ‘They’re dangerous,’ he said. ‘Dangerous and powerful.’

She studied him, chilled by the flatness of his voice. Exaggeration was not in Nick’s nature. ‘I’d feel awful if I gave up on this case though,’ she persisted.

‘Missing person?’ he asked, rubbing a towel between his legs and then moving it over his chest.

‘A woman, yes,’ she said.

He nodded. ‘They don’t just take women, but they seem to prefer them. The link between the Pentagon Agency and a handful of missing persons is well known in the office but we can’t convince any of the hierarchy to invest time or money in an investigation.’

Jo winced as she realised what Nick was saying. ‘Jesus! That stinks of corruption somewhere,’ she told him.

He nodded, a dour smile on his lips. ‘It does, doesn’t it,’ he agreed unhappily.

‘So what happens to these women?’ she asked, not sure if the question came from genuine curiosity or her investigator’s professional interest. ‘Do you find bodies, limbs, what?’

He grunted bleak laughter. ‘Something like that might give us a lead,’ he said miserably. ‘But whatever happens to those missing persons is far worse than you can imagine.’ He fixed Jo with a cold glare and said softly, ‘To date, they are all still listed as missing persons.’

Jo shivered uneasily.

Lying alone in his hostel bed, Russel smiled quietly to himself. He was happily enjoying the same dream again. Technically, he couldn’t decide if it was a true dream or his mind replaying, and exaggerating, a treasured life experience. In all honesty, he would not have cared which category it fell into. All that mattered to Russel was that, for a few fleeting moments, he was reunited with his beloved Mistress Byrne.

‘You’re properly bound now, Russel, aren’t you?’ Vanessa asked in a delightfully sultry whisper. She was wearing a business suit as she spoke to him. The buttons of her blouse were unfastened enough to reveal a tantalising glimpse of cleavage. The skirt she wore was a modest length but it was short enough to entice him with the glimpse of stocking tops he could see.

Asleep, his head moved up and down on the pillow as he nodded confirmation. ‘I’m properly bound, Mistress Vanessa,’ he assured her softly.

She smiled in response and teased the hem of her skirt upwards, allowing him to see her naked pubic bush. ‘Is this what you want, Russel?’ she asked softly. ‘Do you want to play with my pussy?’

He sighed heavily, aware that his cock was a raging limb that demanded to be touched. ‘Yes, mistress. Yes!’ he implored her. He was so lost in the dream, so acutely involved in this regular nightly homage to Mistress Vanessa, he did not even realise he was no longer alone in bed.

‘You’ve been a naughty boy though, haven’t you?’ Vanessa teased coquettishly.

Russel frowned, puzzled. ‘Please, mistress,’ he begged. ‘I haven’t done anything un…untoward.’

She shook her head sadly, a frown of disapproval creasing her lips as she unfastened her blouse further. ‘You’ve been having wicked thoughts about the girls you’re working with, haven’t you?’

‘No,’ he began hurriedly. ‘I haven’t –’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ she hissed sharply. She drew the belt in her hand back and flicked it down swiftly at his groin.

There was no pain, unfortunately, Russel thought, but he flinched from the gesture anyway.

‘You’ve been having dirty little thoughts in that cesspool you call a brain.’

He sniffed sadly and nodded. ‘I’m sorry, mistress,’ he told her earnestly. ‘I’m truly sorry.’

‘Sorry…isn’t…good…enough!’ she told him, punctuating each word with a crack of the belt to his inner thighs. ‘I want to hear you beg for forgiveness.’

He considered explaining the situation, then thought better of it. After all, she was the one who had suggested he enrol with the Pentagon Agency in the first place. He did not doubt that, when she suggested he join, Vanessa knew all about the place and its credo: ‘ultimate temps for the demanding executive.’

He had listened to Mr Smith’s induction speech. The man had said a lot of things about the strict regime employed and the disciplined environment. All the time Russel had been trying wilfully to understand the man’s point. It had not taken long for him to understand exactly what Mr Smith was alluding to.

During his first lesson at the hostel, he had witnessed an example of the Pentagon Agency’s strict regime and disciplined environment. A fellow colleague, who had made the mistake of backchatting to a tutor, had been paddled until she sobbed for mercy. Russel had watched the spectacle in a haze of wonder. Part of him had wanted to rush to the front of the class and stop the punishment.

Another part of him had been too aroused to dare moving. He had wondered what it would be like to be a victim of the tutor’s punishment. The prospect was deeply exciting. The idea of being spanked on the bare backside, in front of a group of his peers, left Russel shivering with excitement. It was that part of his mind he listened to, trusting its appreciation of the natural order between dominants and submissives.

‘You’ve been watching the other girls,’ Mistress Byrne told him. She used the strap with merciless accuracy. ‘You’ve been excited by them,’ she pointed out, seemingly blessed with an ability to read his mind. ‘That’s a punishable offence, Russel,’ she told him sternly.

In his sleep, Russel shook his head in silent dispute of his mistress’s words. It’s not an offence, he wanted to say. Mr Smith said fraternising with female trainees was acceptable, as long as it didn’t mature into…

His silent words were cut short by another blow from the belt. It did not matter what Mr Smith had said. The truth was: Mistress Byrne was correct. He had been watching the other girls and indulging in lewd thoughts. If she told him this was a crime, then that was sufficient for Russel. In his mind, and in his heart, there was no difference between what Mistress Byrne told him, and what was expected of him. The two were indivisible.

In spite of the blows this dream vision had delivered, he still felt his cock thrusting upwards. More than that, his cock was experiencing feelings that were new to him. There was a delicious moist friction that he could not account for. His length felt as though it were being encompassed in a warm, wet passage. The moist heat that surrounded him was so warm, wet and thrilling he wondered if he was going to embarrass his mistress again by ejaculating on her. He closed his eyes and prayed that he would not commit this sin again.

When he opened them, he was staring down at the blonde head that hid his cock from view. The woman going down on him bit back a soft murmur of appreciation and continued to ride his length with her mouth.

Russel bit back a protest, unsure if this was still his beloved dream, or a bizarre reality he had fallen into. Mistress Byrne could not be sucking his cock. That was wrong, and forbidden. She was a mistress and as such she was permitted to have him do her bidding. She would never lower herself to taking his cock in her mouth. That was not the behaviour of a dominatrix.

Perplexed by this paradox, Russel tried to find a rational explanation for it. His mind was still trying to come to terms with it when he felt the explosion fire from his balls. His cock pumped and pumped and, to his chagrin, Russel realised the woman sucking him was swallowing his seed.

He groaned unhappily, wishing he knew what was going on.

‘It felt like you really enjoyed that,’ she said, glancing up at him from his dick. A trickle of white semen dribbled from her lower lip and she licked it up avariciously as she smiled at him. ‘You taste nice,’ she added, with a sly smile.

Russel stared incredulously into Helen’s face, wondering how she had managed to get into his room. ‘Why did you do that?’ he asked, unable to stop his voice from faltering.

‘To make you come,’ Helen told him honestly. ‘Now it’s my turn,’ she said, taking his failing length between her fingers and teasing it playfully. ‘Do you think I can suck him hard for a second go?’ she asked curiously. ‘I reckon I can.’

‘I don’t want a second go,’ Russel told her, a tremor of unease creeping into his voice. ‘I didn’t even want the first. Get off me.’

Helen stared unhappily at him. As she assessed the frightened pallor of his expression her smile widened. Her pale-blue eyes glimmered with Machiavellian glee as she quickly formulated a plan. Her smile broadened. ‘Play withme, Russel, and do as I say, or I won’t be your friend.’

‘I don’t want you to be my friend,’ he told her grumpily. ‘I want you to leave.’

Helen frowned theatrically. ‘That’s not very nice,’ she told him sadly. ‘Do you really want me to leave and tell people our secret? I don’t think it will go down well.’

‘What secret?’ Russel asked, puzzled.

Helen’s pantomime smile could not conceal her expression of triumphant accomplishment. ‘We’ve just cohabited, Russel,’ she pointed out. ‘That’s against the rules here, or didn’t you know?’

Russel knew perfectly well that this was the truth. The thought had been in his mind only a few moments ago, although he could not recall if it had been in his dream or not. ‘I didn’t…’ he began.

Helen shook her head solemnly. ‘If you want me to go, then I’ll leave now, and tell the security guard along the corridor what we did. I’m sure he’ll tell one of the mistress’s what you did with me.’ She moved as if to get off his single bed.

A dozen things flashed instantaneously through Russel’s mind. He saw Mistress Byrne standing before him, naked and holding a strap. She was smiling at him and assuring him that if he completed the Pentagon Agency’s course, he would be her slave for ever. He also saw the austere Mr Smith, telling him that cohabitation with female trainees would lead to expulsion. This warning, Vanessa’s desirable smile, and his longing to be her treasured slave, were all feelings and images that tumbled through his frightened mind in a hectic, helter-skelter blur.

Scared of the repercussions, Russel put a hand out to stop her. ‘Wait,’ he begged.

Helen’s smile widened. ‘You want me to stay now?’ she asked slyly. ‘Do you think that’s wise?’

Russel caught a breath in his throat and studied her in the semi-dark of his room. He had seen Helen throughout the week and come to regard her as a steel hand in a velvet glove. Even from a distance, Russel had sensed it would be wisest not to get involved with her. She exuded an air of danger that he shied away from. He would have been happier if he could have avoided all contact with her. However, he realised that things were not going to happen that way.

A sense of self-preservation made him keep a hold of her arm as they spoke. ‘What do you want from me, Helen?’ he asked quietly.

She smiled, a disarmingly pleasant expression. ‘I want us to be friends,’ she told him, patting the hand that held her arm. ‘I want us to be good friends,’ she amended, giving the words their own intimate meaning.

Russel’s smile faltered uncertainly. ‘But you’ve just told me male and female trainees aren’t allowed to indulge in relationships with each other.’ He wondered if it would be possible to argue his way out of this situation. He doubted it would be, but he could see no other option. Unless he could discuss this rationally with her, Russel knew he would have to go along with whatever Helen wanted.

Helen leant forward on the bed and placed a kiss on Russel’s mouth. He could taste his own semen there and tried not to think how arousing the flavour was. The last time he had tasted that flavour had been when he licked his own seed from Mistress Byrne’s bare breasts. That had been an experience so memorable he realised he was still dreaming about it. The memory was enough to make his cock twitch excitedly.

‘There are ways around that,’ she told him, her voice barely controlling the devilish giggle at the back of her throat. ‘Here,’ she said, ‘watch what I do, and learn.’

Russel felt powerless to resist as he watched Helen begin to undress. She stepped out of her shoes, then began to unroll her stockings, taking time to display her legs as she removed the nylons. After this, she pulled her blouse off, unfastened her skirt, and stood before him in only her bra and pants. Mesmerised by the beauty of her sylphlike figure, Russel could not wrench his gaze away. When she removed her bra and slid her panties down to her ankles, he realised his cock was already rock-hard again.

‘Now.’ She smiled encouragingly at him. ‘Step one wasn’t so difficult, was it?’ She looked at his solid dick and drew a finger lovingly along his length. ‘It looks to me as though you really enjoyed it,’ she said, rolling the tip of her finger over the swollen head of his knob. ‘I wonder if you’ll enjoy step two as much?’

His wary frown deepened. The sensations she inspired in him were infuriatingly arousing and he fought against his body’s longing for her. ‘Step two?’ he asked doubtfully. ‘What’s step two?’

Helen smiled easily. Again, he found it disarming, especially considering her nudity.

‘Step two is where you put these clothes on,’ she said simply.

Russel gaped in horror and shook his head. ‘No way!’ he declared. ‘I’m not doing that,’ he told her firmly.

Helen simply shrugged. ‘OK,’ she said, making her way towards the door. ‘I’ll probably see you when they bring you out of the black room. Bye bye, Russel.’ Heedless of her nudity, Helen reached the door, placed her fingers on the handle and began to tug it open.

Russel watched all this nervously. Naturally he had heard of the black room. It was the source of punishment so severe it could not be kept quiet, especially in a place like the hostel. The whispered stories Russel had heard were chilling. He had already decided to avoid the black room at all costs.

He suspected Helen was trying to bluff him. Common sense told him it would be wisest to let her walk out. She would have nothing to gain by getting him in trouble. If she tried that, and then the mistresses heard his side of the story, Helen could face severe retribution.

His only worry was that she might make good with her threat anyway. From what he had seen of Helen he already knew she was unpredictable. ‘Wait!’ he called, almost falling out of bed as he tried to stop Helen from opening the door.

She turned to face him, an unsurprised smile teasing her lips. ‘Yes?’ she enquired sweetly. She put on a curious expression, as though she genuinely wondered what he intended to say.

Russel took a deep breath and sighed heavily. ‘I’ll do it,’ he told her solemnly. ‘I’ll do step two.’

Helen grinned as she walked slowly towards him. ‘Of course you will,’ she said knowledgeably, caressing her breasts as she moved. ‘I thought you’d want us to be good friends.’ She moved her hands from her breasts and placed one on his rigid length. The other hand went to her pussy and she teased the lips open as Russel watched. ‘You want to put this gorgeous piece of machinery in here, don’t you?’ she asked, lowering her voice to a soft, husky whisper.

Russel nodded, not trusting himself to respond verbally. He did not like Helen, but his body ached to possess her.

She rolled his foreskin back and forth over the swollen head of his glans. Her fingers stretched to circumnavigate the wide girth of his manhood. With her other hand she teased the lips of her tight, pink hole wide apart and plunged her finger deep inside. When she removed the finger, she pushed it under Russel’s nose and told him to lick it.

Obedient as ever, Russel did as she instructed.

‘You want to stuff this beautiful cock of yours in here, don’t you?’ she asked softly. ‘Like this,’ she elaborated, moving her pussy closer to him and rubbing the wet lips of her labia over the throbbing purple end of his dick.