The Black Widow (12 page)

Allen was only half on the bed. He had one hand between her legs and the other wrapped round her waist, but his feet were planted firmly on the floor. This position was giving him the leverage to thrust into Jo with a powerful, commanding force that threatened to push her off the bed.

For the moment, Jo did not care that he was controlling the pace and the tempo. She allowed Allen to ride her roughly, enjoying the relentless vigour of his lovemaking. He lifted her legs high into the air, forcing himself deeper, then pushed her legs down so that he could kiss her as he ploughed his cock into her.

Allowing him to use her however he pleased, Jo lay limp on the bed. It was refreshing to feel herself being taken by such a skilled, male lover and she was determined to enjoy every intense, delightful moment. It did not matter to her how he pushed of pulled her legs. When they were pushed back, towards her chest, he was able to force himself deeper into her tight, wet warmth, filling her canal with his glorious shaft. When he pushed them down, against the bed, the length of his rigid cock was allowed to rub enticingly against the sensitive nub of her clitoris as he rode in and out.

All the time, his hand remained close to the heat of her sex, teasing her labia whenever he cared to. Each time she gasped, he brushed his thumb against her pulsing clitoris.

Enjoying every second of his cock’s intrusion, Jo screamed cries of joy into the room. Occasionally she would buck her hips against him, but this was mainly an involuntary response and she struggled to suppress it. Remembering Allen’s words before he began to ride her, Jo was determined to extract as much effortless pleasure as she could from this session. He had already said this would be the last bout of lovemaking that she would have without exerting herself. If that was to be the case, then Jo was determined to enjoy it.

Allen continued to rock backward and forward, filling her with his long, thick shaft, then pulling himself slowly from the tight, clenching grip of her inner muscles. While the fingers of one hand teased the lips of her sex, he used his other to reach inside the buttons of Jo’s blouse and fondle her breasts. The tips of his fingers reached the aching thrust of her nipples and he teased each one with brutal tenderness.

Jo could feel herself heading towards an orgasm of bewildering intensity. Her entire body was humming as though it had been charged with electricity and she knew that when the climax finally did strike it would be more explosive than she could cope with. The prospect left her shaking with anticipation.

She longed to embrace him, rake her fingernails down his back then pull him on to her. The thought of feeling his chest pressed against her breasts was darkly exciting and she yearned to enjoy that sensation. But because he was doing such a good job of pleasuring her, Jo allowed him to continue riding her.

Her fingers curled into fists, the tips of her nails burying themselves deep into the soft flesh of her palms. She screamed with passionate fury as the threat of her impending climax increased.

And then she felt the throbbing pulse of Allen’s explosion.

It was enough to spark her own orgasm. The movement of his twitching cock caused a furious climax to erupt through her body. Jo heard herself shrieking happily, the sound barely audible over Allen’s cry of pleasure. With each long, languid pulse of his cock, she felt the boiling wetness of his explosion spurt deep inside her.

A triumphant, satisfied grin contorted his features and Jo realised his expression was a mirror-image of her own. They gripped one another tightly, sharing the warmth of their simultaneous climaxes in a groaning, giggling embrace. Jo could feel him kissing her face and she pressed her mouth over his, enjoying the taste of his excitement and the intimacy of his exploring tongue. His hand cupped her breast and she pulled away from him, surprised by the intense eruption of pleasure that his touch evoked.

‘Enough,’ she whispered, her voice shaking. Seeing the frown on his face, she said, ‘Enough, for the moment.’

Allen grinned and slid himself from her. He rubbed the tip of his finger over the tingling nub of her clitoris as he drew his spent cock from her. ‘I suppose I should get on with some of the chores that I have to do up here,’ Allen conceded, stepping into his shorts. ‘It’s not all fun working in this place, you know. Doctor McMahon has faxed me some instructions.’

Jo nodded and smiled, not particularly listening to him. She was thinking to herself how convenient it was to have sex without getting undressed. All she needed to do now was straighten the line of her skirt, adjust the gusset of her panties, and then she was fully and ready for the rest of the day. She idly wished more men were as considerate as Allen, and then stopped herself from following that train of thought, feeling certain he had said something about Doctor McMahon.

She turned, about to ask him to repeat what he had just said, then cried indignantly, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

Allen grinned at her. He was kneeling on the floor, unfastening her case with deft fingers. ‘I’ve been told to search your luggage for contraband,’ he explained. ‘I was just looking to see what you had in this case that keeps clinking.’

‘That’s none of your damned business,’ Jo told him sternly.

He shook his head. ‘Your GP sent a fax, warning us that you might try and smuggle certain items in here,’ Allen explained. ‘I’m removing them for your own good.’ He threw open the lid of her case and stared inside. His eyes widened and a dark frown crossed his brow. ‘Bloody hell,’ he gasped. ‘This isn’t a suitcase. It’s a fucking distillery.’

‘It’s not that bad,’ Jo said defensively. ‘And, like I said,’ she added with renewed indignation, ‘it’s none of your fucking business.’

‘There must be fourteen bottles of Jack Daniel’s in here,’ Allen said, unable to stop himself from sounding incredulous.

Jo shrugged. ‘Fourteen is about right,’ she said. ‘I’m here for a fortnight.’

Allen shook his head and closed the suitcase.

‘Are you leaving it?’ Jo asked, a smile breaking her lips.

‘I might as well take the whole case,’ Allen replied. ‘What little clothes you have in here, I’ll get sent up to you later.’ He started towards the door, with the suitcase in one hand.

‘Hold on,’ Jo said desperately. ‘You can’t take all of them. What am I supposed to drink?’

Allen shook his head. ‘Your doctor seems to think that you don’t need the whiskey, and your boyfriend, Sam, seemed quite concerned about your excessive drinking.’

Jo chewed her lower lip angrily, not bothering to correct his mistake and wondering what sort of warning her ‘boyfriend’ Sam had been faxing through to Elysian Fields. She suddenly found herself hoping for an early and to this case, so that she could get back to the office to exact some revenge.

Allen placed his hand on the door handle and tugged it open. ‘I’ll get someone up here to sort out a more detailed induction for you,’ he said solemnly.

Jo stared at him. ‘Will they bring me my whiskey back?’ she asked sharply.

He shook his head.

She snorted a harsh, unladylike sound. ‘In that case, they needn’t bother.’

As soon as he had closed the door, Jo fell to her knees and took a glance under the bed. Her handbag was there and she was pleased that Allen had not thought to look through it. Reaching inside, she pulled out her newly purchased hip flask and treated herself to a long, satisfying swallow from the silver bottle.

The whiskey burnt her throat with a long, satisfying sweetness that was so perfect it was almost medicinal. She stared at the hip flask with reverential gratitude and sighed happily. This was how life was supposed to be, she thought idly. Whiskey was burning her throat and her pussy lips still tingled with the memory of Allen’s excellent cock. She even had the mild intrigue of a case to occupy her. What more could a person want out of life? she thought.

Going to the window of her suite, Jo squinted across the grounds of Elysian Fields, idly wondering where the nearest wine bar might be.

The Black Widow grinned down at Poppy.

The sauna whip in her hand was almost forgotten. Its short leather tendrils dangled limply from her fingers, barely swaying even when Sky took the most determined step around the room. She circled the exercise machine, reassuring herself that Wendy was fastening the woman’s wrists and ankles securely. She knew there was no reason to have any doubts, but Sky had dreamt of this moment for months and she wanted to be sure of every last detail.

‘Why are you doing this to me?’ Poppy wailed.

Sky slapped the sauna whip hard on the PVC bench between Poppy’s legs. The sound of the leather tendrils striking the surface was as brittle as snapping ice. The dry crack was almost lost beneath Poppy’s startled cry in the flat acoustics of the small gym. ‘You’ve been told not to ask questions, Poppy,’ Sky hissed sharply. ‘Do as I say. Don’t make me force you.’

Poppy sighed unhappily and slumped against the padded metal tubing of the pec deck. She did not move, even when Wendy had finished tying her bare ankles to the metal pipe above the footrest. Her secured wrists hung limply against the padded arms of the exercise machine and he shoulders rolled forward in a defeated slouch.

‘Get her to sit properly,’ Sky growled in Wendy’s ear. The barely controlled malice in her voice left no room for dissension.

Wendy moved quickly and without question. She nodded curtly, then took a step to Poppy’s side. With calming words and a strict tone, she made the solicitor grip the handlebars of the machine with her hands. At the same time, she forced Poppy to sit upright with her shoulders back and her chest out.

Sky watched with a frown of disapproval as Wendy helped to shape Poppy’s posture on the pec deck. All the time her anger was growing. It was a basic weights bench, Sky thought angrily. She had seen the most simple-minded muscle-heads working effortlessly on these machines. There was no great trick to operating it.

And here was Poppy, a supposedly intelligent solicitor, who could not even sit on the bloody contraption without looking as though she had been asked to juggle and tap dance simultaneously. Under other circumstances Sky might have found the solicitor’s awkwardness amusing. However, these were not other circumstances and Sky could feel her black mood darkening as each moment ticked by. Watching Poppy’s guileless fumbling was only making her vile temper worse. The woman’s innate clumsiness reinforced Sky’s belief that she was dealing with an idiot. Each struggled attempt that she made to sit properly on the exercise machine fortified Sky’s low opinion of her.

Shaking her head in disbelief Sky paced around the mirrored gym and cursed Poppy’s stupidity. The woman had been trusted to handle something as important as her divorce yet she could not handle sitting down at a bloody exercise machine. Admittedly, Sky knew part of that was her own fault. She had elected to use Knight & Knight Solicitors, and she had said she was comfortable with the junior partner, Poppy Darling, handling her affairs. But at the time she had not known Poppy Darling was a clinical imbecile.

Over the past two years, she had spent a lot of time berating herself for that mistake; for trusting her affairs to Poppy. Now she realised the time for such self-recrimination was over. Now it was time to berate Poppy.

‘…Move your arms together,’ Wendy was saying, ‘and you’ll be toning your deltoid and your pectorals.’ Her fingers went to Poppy’s arms and shoulders to illustrate the two muscles she referred to. ‘For best results, press your knees together and clench your lower body while you’re using it. You’ll be exercising your gluteus maximus and your adductor longus.’ She tapped Poppy’s bottom lightly, then stroked her fingers over her inner thigh by way of explanation.

‘That’ll do for the moment,’ Sky said firmly. She could not see the point of Wendy explaining how to use the pec deck. At the moment, it was weighted so heavily that a team of trained elephants would have had difficulty trying to operate it. Sky had deliberately overloaded the weights so that whoever was tied to the machine would be unable to move. After her first day at Elysian Fields with John, Sky had realised how attentive a person could be when they were unable to move.

Now, she wanted Poppy to be that attentive.

Wendy obeyed Sky’s instruction instantaneously and took a step back. She glanced uneasily at the whip in Sky’s hand, then frowned at her. ‘You’re not going to hurt her with that, are you?’

Sky graced Wendy with an icy glare. She was aware that Poppy was watching her miserably, waiting for an answer to this question with the same expectant hesitation. ‘Lock the door on your way out,’ Sky growled softly. ‘I’ll expect you back here in two hours to assist me.’

Wendy glanced uncertainly from Sky to Poppy, then back to Sky. The unhappiness in Wendy’s eyes made it obvious that she wanted to disobey the Black Widow’s instructions, but they both knew she would not. After all that had happened between them in the sauna, Wendy still felt indebted to her and Sky knew it. The thought of disobeying her, even under these circumstances, was bound to be unthinkable.

Sky widened her cruel smile in an unspoken challenge. She reached out a hand and stroked her fingers gently against Wendy’s cheek. Her smile widened when she was the woman struggle not to flinch from her touch. ‘I assume that you do have other duties to perform,’ Sky said loftily.

Wendy nodded. She cast an unhappy frown in Poppy’s direction, then turned back to Sky. ‘I have duties to attend to in the eas –’ She stopped herself abruptly. ‘I do have other duties,’ she amended.

Sky frowned, wondering why Wendy had stopped herself so suddenly. Before she could question her about it, Wendy was already gliding through the gym’s doors. Sky mentally backtracked over her parting words and wondered what the woman had stopped herself from saying. She could only imagine it was one part of Elysian Fields, and that puzzled her. Although Sky knew she was building a reputation for being a stern task master, she did not think any of her staff should be frightened of saying that they were off to the eatery.

She thought of taking a step after Wendy, or calling the woman back with a barked command. Then she changed her mind. She could see that Poppy was staring at her with growing fear and she knew that now was the time to capitalise on that emotion.

It did not surprise her that Poppy was so scared. Sky had caught sight of her own reflection in the mirrored walls of the gym and she had to admit that she was looking fiercely intimidating. Her black seamed stockings clung to her legs and shone like polished glass beneath the gym’s lights. Not that there was much of the stockings to see with the thigh-length boots she had on. The lacy edges appeared over the top, then there was simply the smooth expanse of the tanned flesh that stretched from her inner thigh to the zippered crotch of her black panties. She was wearing a stiff, black leather basque, tied tightly at the sides by a lattice-work of leather straps, revealing diamonds of the bare copper-coloured flesh beneath. The tightness of the basque emphasised her broad hips and slender waist and added volume to the swell of her breasts. Long, black leather gloves covered her slender forearms, contrasting starkly with her lightly tanned skin. The gloves were fingerless, revealing the blood-red polish of her manicured nails. To complete the ensemble, she had torn a length of leather from the many-tipped tongue of the sauna whip, and used it to tie back her long blonde hair. The reflection that glared back at her from the mirror was simultaneously exciting and threatening.

Secretly, she thought that Poppy had every right to look frightened. This was an outfit she had worn in the past for her husband and he had jokingly referred to it as her ‘psycho-bitch’ costume. Now, more than ever before, Sky was determined to live up to that reputation.

She slapped the sauna whip between Poppy’s legs, shattering the expectant silence. ‘You look scared, Poppy. Do you think you should be scared?’

Poppy snatched trembling breath and stared miserably at her captor. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered meekly.

Sky shook her head, her anger mounting. ‘You don’t even recognise me, do you?’ she snapped.

With watery eyes, Poppy stared at her then shook her head.

‘Bitch!’ Sky exploded. She slapped the sauna whip down hard against Poppy’s inner thigh, extracting a shriek of surprise. The sound gave her a grim satisfaction and she slapped the whip against the other thigh, provoking the same result. ‘You lousy bitch,’ Sky growled. ‘How dare you not remember me?’

Poppy tried to shrug but her tied arms made it impossible. Her lower lip quivered as she struggled to say something, but terror held her mute.

Sky was pacing furiously up and down in the small gym. Each forceful, stamping step on the wooden floor embodied her absolute outrage. ‘I honestly don’t believe you,’ Sky gasped incredulously. ‘You fucked over my entire life. You turned me from a woman with wealth and resources to a virtual pauper, and you have the audacity not to remember me.’ Again, Sky slapped the sauna whip against Poppy’s inner thighs, extracting a modicum of grim pleasure from each anguished cry she inflicted.

Poppy was shaking her head from side to side, tears spilling copiously over her reddened cheeks. She tried to say something but the words were made unintelligible by the high pitch of her fear-strained voice.

‘The strange thing is,’ Sky said suddenly, ‘I remember you perfectly. Seeing you now, it’s like seeing you the last time I was in your office.’

With an obvious lack of comprehension still straining her features, Poppy shook her head miserably as she sobbed.

Sky ignored the woman’s misery, suddenly lost in her own thoughts. ‘You’re still dressed like a woman with a lost-property box for a wardrobe,’ she said nastily. ‘And you still have all the style and coordination of a road accident.’ She stepped closer to Poppy, glaring down at the woman. The sauna whip was still in her hand and, although she had no intention of using it, Sky had raised it to shoulder height, to scratch the back of her neck thoughtfully. Poppy cowered as though she expected to be struck, but Sky, lost in her own reverie, barely noticed. ‘Do you know what I always wondered?’ Sky asked suddenly.

Poppy shook her head. Her eyes were wide and staring.

‘I always wondered if you were as artless and uncoordinated as your dress sense.’

Poppy was frowning unhappily, not following the meaning of Sky’s words. She shook her head again and blinked back the latest welling of tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

‘My late husband always spoke in your favour,’ Sky said, a wistful smile teasing her lips. ‘He said you would be dressed like a lingerie model under those shitty clothes that you wear. At the time, I told him he was just being a tosspot, but I’m beginning to wonder now.’

Poppy swallowed thickly and shook her head. She began to stammer something, then seemed to stop herself. Fear of the woman who stood above her was apparent in her meek gaze.

Sky was warning to her theme, encouraged by the look of mounting terror on Poppy’s face. She took the sauna whip in both hands and moved it towards her victim’s face. ‘I want you to hold this between your teeth,’ Sky explained carefully. ‘If you drop it to the floor, I’ll punish you with it.’

Poppy opened her mouth and sky could not decide if the woman was trying to accept the whip or about to protest. Whichever was the case, Sky took advantage of the moment and pushed the handle of the whip between Poppy’s lips.

Poppy closed her teeth against the leather and glared mournfully upward.

‘Drop it,’ Sky repeated firmly, ‘and I’ll punish you.’ Without waiting for a response, she moved her hands down and traced her fingers against the beige polyester of Poppy’s cardigan. The modest swell of her breasts filled Sky’s hands and she allowed herself the pleasure of caressing the little orbs. She could feel the shape of a stiff bra beneath the unpleasant fabric of the cardigan. Beneath the bra, there was the familiar pressure of a yielding breast. Her fingertips pressed through both layers of fabric and she spent a moment tracing the rounded swell.

Poppy drew a startled breath around the sauna whip that gagged her.

Sky smiled cruelly, moving her fingers to the line of beige buttons. As soon as she had hold of both edges of the garment, Sky gripped tightly, then tore it open. Cheap plastic buttons sprayed against the mirrored walls and wooden floor of the gym. The sound of them striking glass and wood was almost lost beneath Poppy’s cry of surprise.

Sky smiled tightly.

The rent cardigan hung from Poppy’s shoulders like a rag. The vision of her breasts, clad in only a stiff white bra, was revealed to Sky. Trapped in the unflattering fabric, her orbs trembled in perfect rhythm with her self-pitying sobs.

Sky longed to touch the gently quaking flesh but she exercised a moment’s self-restraint. She placed a crimson fingernail against the pale skin below Poppy’s breasts and trailed it slowly downward. The firm pressure she employed left a dark-red line in its wake. When the nail reached the waistband of Poppy’s sandy-coloured skirt, Sky paused and graced her victim with a cruel smile. She hooked her nail beneath the fabric and moved her other hand to Poppy’s knee. A line of buttons went up one side of the skirt and she squeezed her fingers between the holes. With a sudden, vicious motion, Sky ripped the garment open. The fabric gave far more easily than she would have expected and she was surprised to find herself holding two pieces of torn cloth.

Poppy made a startled sound around the whip but it was the little more than a choked tremor. She stared up at Sky with an expression that silently pleaded for leniency.

Sky glared down at her, her brow furrowing ominously. The firm set of her jaw it obvious that she was in no mood to offer a reprieve. ‘Black knickers,’ Sky growled sullenly.

Poppy glanced wordlessly down at herself, then stared back at Sky. With the sauna whip still trapped between her teeth, the woman looked like a dog holding a bone, Sky thought.

‘A white bra, and black knickers,’ Sky repeated, unable to hide her obvious disgust at this transgression of the unwritten fashion laws. She reached forward with a fast hand that made Poppy flinch from the threat of a blow. Instead of striking the woman, Sky pulled the whip from between her teeth. She brandished the weapon menacingly as she glared down at Poppy’s underwear. ‘A white bra and black knickers,’ she growled again. The tips of the whip trembled, as though they were expelling some of the furious electric charge fuelling her vile mood. ‘And neither of them look as though they fit properly,’ she observed critically. Her hazel eyes had darkened to a dull brown colour that barely hinted at the true depths of her worsening mood. ‘Is that a deliberate attempt to look cheap and nasty? I don’t believe you’ve come to this place dressed in such a way.’ She shook her head with disdain. ‘My husband was so wrong about you, wasn’t he?’ A look of genuine sorrow seemed to taint her features, although it was gone in the blink of an eye.