A Chamber of Delights (23 page)

She glowered. ‘I want you to help me with some maintenance – that’s all.’

‘What do you want me to maintain?’ My interest in your cunt?’

‘Don’t be so crude.’

He shrugged. ‘All right. Do you want me to maintain my interest in your vagina? What’s in a name? It’s the same warm, wet yawning place between your legs for me to slide my prick into.’

She knew that he was being crude just to annoy her. He was quite refined in some ways. In fact he was too well spoken and too articulate for an ordinary gardener. She wondered why he did the job at all. Unless of course it was for the perks he had with Sophie and Melindi.

Gael thought that Flanders seemed reluctant to go. Did he think that she wanted him after all? She did want him. She craved him wildly. But, remembering his challenge to have her where and when he wanted her, she was determined to resist him. She would have him in her own way – on her own terms.

He rubbed his palm over his bulge again as he revved the motor of his bike. ‘I’ll do you now if you don’t want to wait till the morning.’ His slight smile showed that he was joking.

She studiously ignored him as she started the car.

‘Come into the potting shed, if you like, miss. I’ve got some sacks in there,’ he said softly.

She glowered. He never gave up, even when he knew that it was hopeless. ‘I think you’d better go home, Flanders,’ she said icily. ‘Come to the house promptly at eleven in the morning.’

He tugged his forelock. ‘Yes, ma’am. Anything you say, ma’am.’ Then he grinned at her. ‘Shall I bring some handcuffs and a whip?’

She revved the engine and screeched across the cobbles backwards. As she roared out of the stable yard she narrowly missed him. She accelerated down the gravel drive, the wind pulling at her hair. Then she saw him in the mirror. She slammed on the brakes as he
passed and did a sliding turn at the gate. Then he made the bike rear like a cowboy’s horse before he roared away, grinning widely.

‘Damn,’ she swore as she drove sedately through the gateway. Why did he get her so tuned up?

She knew why. She had been so horny since the tea party for Hilton Markwell. The experience had been too violent just to ebb away. Now the more she denied Flanders, the more her tension rose. She refused to let him know that she wanted him because that would feed his damned ego and put her at a disadvantage. But that would soon be remedied. She had definite plans for cocky Mr Flanders in the morning. She would kill two birds with one stone – fulfil the fantasy and sate her own needs without him being able to do a thing about it.

JANNINE WELLINGTON-MONCRIEF WAS
stunning. The smart suit she wore was obviously couture. As she stepped out of a chauffeur-driven Rolls, she looked alive and very chic.

‘Hello.’ She put out her hand demurely to Gael as they met on the steps. ‘I’ve told my driver to wait. I hope that’s all right with you.’

‘Of course. Do come in.’ Gael found herself speaking in the same clipped way and tried to walk as elegantly as she could.

She looked at the long-case hall clock just as it struck eleven, and showed her visitor into the salon. ‘We’ve just a couple of things to arrange before we carry out your wishes. Would you like some coffee or some tea?’

Surprisingly Jannine pulled a hip flask from her bag and took a swig. Clearly she was not so calm inside as she appeared. But Gael was experienced enough to know that behind many a smooth exterior there were churning currents of desire which when let loose could tear a girl apart.

In the kitchen she found Flanders drinking coffee as he toyed with Sophie’s breast. She slapped his hand as Gael ordered her to take a tray of coffee to the salon.

Gael looked Flanders up and down. Good – he wore only his usual shorts in the heat of the summer day.
Motioning him to follow her, she led him down the basement stairs.

‘Where are we going? To some secret place where we can play without being disturbed?’

Gael didn’t turn. ‘You’ll see in good time. Come on. I haven’t got all day.’

He whistled with surprise as she opened up the chamber.

‘Don’t say a word,’ she warned.

‘Didn’t say a thing, miss,’ he returned, his eyes scanning the implements which stood around the space.

She didn’t put on all the lights in the darkness of the secret room. She didn’t want him to see too much. Nor did she want him to get ideas about how he might use them on her.

Pointing to the ceiling, she handed him a light bulb. ‘The light just there has gone. I want you to replace it, please. It’s too high for me to reach.’

As he stepped on a low, padded bench just below the light, she smiled at the memory of him stopping her from falling as she’d climbed the ladder in the scullery. Now the tables were about to be turned.

It was nearly too high for him to reach. She had calculated carefully that it would be. As he stretched, she took some padded shackles and snapped them on his ankles. As he screwed the lamp in, he was blinded by its light.

Quickly, Gael wound a handle of a winch at the end of the bench. As the ropes attached to the shackles began to pull, he realised what she’d done.

‘You witch,’ he snarled. ‘You scheming bitch.’ The winch pulled him off balance and he fell. He tried to undo the shackles but without a key it was useless. The outcome was now certain as she winched the ropes in tight. His feet were drawn towards the foot end of the bench.

‘It won’t do you any good,’ he snarled. ‘I won’t play your game.’

She shrugged matter-of-factly. ‘You don’t have to do anything except lie down.’

He laughed. ‘You can go to hell. You won’t get any fun from me.’

Now it was Gael’s turn to laugh. ‘Isn’t that what I said as you strung me up in the hay-loft? You thought you were so clever as you licked between my legs. Now it’s your turn to see how it feels to be strung out helplessly.’

‘And I said I’m not playing your game, you witch.’ He pulled the ropes but could not make them give.

‘But surely you haven’t forgotten your challenge, Mr Flanders? You said I could have you in any way I wanted if I caught you.’

‘So what. You can’t make me do anything if I don’t want to.’

She shrugged again and went behind him. He didn’t look round, seeming to refuse to play her game. But it was his undoing. She slipped a leather halter over his head and wound a handle at the top end of the bench.

His hands went to his throat as she had planned they would. She’d rehearsed this whole manoeuvre several times. As he tried to release the halter, she snapped another padded cuff on one wrist. Now he was wise enough not to let her capture the other, but she reeled him in steadily. There was nothing he could do to stop her. Soon he was stretched out along the bench, one arm pulled above his head, the collar tight about his neck, but not too tight to hurt him.

He lashed out with his free hand but she dodged him. She held the shackle out. ‘Give me your other wrist.’

‘Not on your life, you slut.’ He lunged again.

‘All right. Please yourself.’ As she gripped his balls tightly, his free hand shot down to protect them. She snapped the fourth cuff on and stood back quickly, grinning with elation.

He let out a long growl of frustration. ‘I’ll get you, you hussy. Don’t think you’ll get away with this.’

‘You’re in no position for making threats, Mr Flanders. Now lie still.’ She wound the handle which pulled the second hand above his head. Now his belly was flat and his armpits hollow with the tension of the rack. He struggled to no avail.

Gael felt totally safe as she calmly ran the zip of his shorts down. He growled but she took no notice.

His penis was limp but large inside a pair of pristine briefs. He protested loudly as she took scissors and sliced through the legs of his shorts and let them fall away. Then she pulled the remnants from under him. She ran a finger up the inside of his leg until it met the bulge of his testicles. She thought she saw his penis move as he growled and glared at her.

Now she cut away the underpants. As she bared his penis, her fingers trembled violently. Her thighs began to quiver, transmitting little tremors of delight up into her vulva.

He lay there naked now. Perspiration beaded on his forehead. But was it because he was frightened? Or was he just as excited as she was?

She whispered in his ear, ‘I’m not going to hurt you, Flanders. But I am going to teach you a lesson, you conceited pig. Now, if you lie still and behave yourself, I’ll give you a treat you won’t forget for years.’

‘I’ll catch my death of cold stretched out like this,’ he hissed, the pressure of the traction making it hard for him to speak.

‘Then I’ll cover you up.’ She took a large black velvet sheet which she’d prepared the day before. She covered the whole of his body, and the winches and the bench. There was a hole for him to breathe through. She adjusted the position of the sheet, making sure that a second hole came right about his crotch. She pulled his penis and his scrotum through the aperture. His testicles lolled heavily on the black material. And although his penis fell to one side, Gael was sure that it was becoming hard.

‘You can stop that, you hell cat,’ he croaked. ‘It’s no good touching my prick, I won’t cooperate. But if you let me go, I’ll give you the screwing of a lifetime.’

She laughed. ‘I’ve already had “the screwing of a lifetime” from the man who gave me the car. But thank you for the offer all the same.’ She raised the sheet at the head end and kissed him on the lips whispering into his mouth, ‘Now, just in case you won’t be quiet, I’m going to have to gag you.’

He protested loudly as she stuck a strip of sticky tape across his mouth. She tied the collar firmly to the bench to stop him raising his head and then replaced the sheet.

Pleased with her handiwork, she switched out all the lights. Then she went quickly to the salon where Jannine was sipping coffee and flicking nervously through
Vogue
.

Gael sat and poured a coffee for herself, her hands shaking and her heartbeat banging loudly. Then she stared into the woman’s dark brown eyes. ‘Tell me again about your fantasy, Jannine.’

The woman gulped. ‘It – it’s just that I crave for a man’s hard bits, but don’t particularly care for men. I would give anything just to have a warm, hard cock to play with but not to have to bother about him, or what he’d do to me.’

Gael gave a reassuring smile and held out her hand. ‘Then your fantasy is about to be fulfilled.’

As she opened the door to the chamber, hot air rushed out to meet them. She led Jannine in and closed the door. Then she whispered, ‘Don’t be afraid. I won’t be far away. Just enjoy your fantasy.’

As she switched on a solitary spotlight, a disembodied, sun-browned penis seemed to float in the darkness. Its testicles welled roundly in their sac.

Gael guided Jannine forward so she could study it closely. ‘Don’t be afraid of it,’ she whispered. ‘But don’t hurt it. If you treat it nicely, I’m sure it’ll reward you with whatever you desire.’

Flanders was so quiet that Gael wondered for a moment what had happened. But then she heard his breath and she saw his penis move. He had probably heard her whisper to Jannine and decided to play along.

‘Strip me,’ Jannine whispered. ‘I want to be naked before I touch it. I want to feel its skin against my own.’

With shaking hands, Gael removed her jacket. As she slipped the buttons of the blouse, she felt the taut, round breasts well out with nothing to restrain them. The nipples were already hard, the belly undulating deeply as Gael released the waistband of her skirt. When she felt the curly hair of the woman’s prominent mons, Gael realised that she wore no panties. She smiled at the thought of the woman stepping so genteelly from her Rolls without her knickers on.

Jannine Wellington-Moncrief had a most exquisite body. She was a brown-pink version of Melindi. Her breasts were large, but not too big to be unwieldy. The sturdy nipples stood up hard, the little bumps of their nimbuses like tiny nipples too. Her pubic mount had a mat of thick and curly hair. And, as she stood before the bench, she pushed it out as if to say, Look at the secret place at the apex of my legs.

Gael saw her lick her lips as she looked down on the apparently discarnate penis. She knelt beside it, studying it carefully. ‘It’s very soft,’ she whispered. ‘I thought it would be hard.’

Gael knelt beside her. ‘You can make it hard if you touch it. You can lick it if you want to.’

Flanders’ belly heaved but he didn’t make a sound. He probably thought Gael would hit him if he did, and he was in no position to retaliate.

Jannine put her lips to the limp cock. She kissed the foreskin lightly, then ran a series of little licks down the whole length.

‘I think it’s coming to life,’ she whispered, her voice sounding excited as the cock began to swell.

She kissed the balls, making them retract. Then she licked deeply between them and up the centre of the growing shaft. It burgeoned before their eyes, like the sped-up motion of a growing plant. The head swelled from the foreskin as the supple flesh rolled down.

Now Jannine put her tongue-tip to the web which tightened as she touched it. The head swelled more as the shaft began to stiffen and to curve.

The woman gathered confidence. She flattened her tongue against it and lapped at it hard. Turning to Gael she grinned. ‘My God – look what I’ve made it do. I’ve never had one do that before. The only cocks I’ve seen have already been hard. And I’ve never felt one with my hands or kissed one quite like this.’ She lapped at his balls again and sighed.

‘Why haven’t you touched one?’ Gael asked softly as she stroked the woman’s arm.

‘Because they’ve been too keen to get them up my fanny. So I’ve just lain back and waited till they’ve finished.’

‘That doesn’t seem much fun.’

Jannine sighed and kissed the glans again, making it swell fully. ‘I’ve liked the feelings it’s made as it’s fucked me. But the men have been brutes. That’s why I wanted this.’ She stroked it as gently as she might stroke a kitten, pulling back the foreskin so it stretched.