The Red Scare (3 page)

When it comes to handcuffs, one key fits all. I’d wriggled out of plenty of possible police identification and interrogation tight spots with my snub little silver lock-opener. My fingers squirmed under the waistband of my slacks now and into the rear of my panties and gripped the key. I showed it some air behind my back, used it to snap the cuffs open with a dexterity that would’ve done Houdini proud in a pinch. All the while looking glumly at Constance with the phone receiver pressed to her pink, clam-shelled ear.

She couldn’t reach the person on the other end of the line, whoever it was. And when she turned her eyes and body slightly to place the phone back down on the nightstand, I pounced.

I dove right over the toy-laden bed like Johnny Weissmuller, latched onto Constance’s shoulders, and barrel-rolled over on the bed, taking the startled lovely down with me. We splashed about in the dildos and dongs and whips and cat-collars. Until my superior cougar strength and weight got the better of the mewling kitten, and I flopped over the top of her, quickly cuffed her wrists to the iron railings at the head of the bed.

I stared into her widened blue eyes then, lying on top of her heaving, heavenly body. The whole encounter went from precarious to precious. I started enjoying myself all over again.

‘What say you answer some of
my
questions now, Constance?’ I breathed in the girl’s face, floating up and down on her warm, cushiony form.

My breasts bobbed right along with hers, my pussy pressing into her pussy, our parted, wet lips separated by mere breathless inches. The heat was enough to melt the party identification of any card-carrying Commie.

‘Wh-what questions?’ Constance whispered, her eyes and lips shining, cheeks showing the colour her hair fanned out on the pillow probably was, her eyebrows arched innocently enough.

‘What’s with all the Red-baiting material – in your bottom drawer?’

The tip of her glistening pink tongue darted out and bathed her glossy lips. I had to hold myself back from making a snatch at it with my teeth.

‘I … I don’t know about that.’

I grinned like Uncle Joe. ‘Like heck you don’t. And I suppose all this lady-loving equipment just walked into your bedroom all on its own too? Never been used before, right?’

Her face warmed even more at the mere mention of the sexual doo-moms we were wallowing in; her body heating up even higher, as well, under my flaming frame. But her tremulous lips didn’t tumble any confessions.

That’s when an idea suddenly hit me, like a two-ton orgasm. I knew how I could make the naughty girl talk, heck, scream – spill me everything I wanted to know.

‘Won’t confess, huh?’ I teased. ‘OK. Well then, I guess I’ll just have to torture the truth out of you –
sexually
torture, that is. With your very own tools of the skin trade, Constance.’

Her eyes beamed with banked fires and her nostrils flared with the smell of sex in the air. I swear to the Constitution I could feel her nipples harden and her pussy dampen against mine. I yearned to find out for sure.

Constance bit her lip, keeping her tongue under wraps. I jumped up into the straddling position, bridging her waist, reached down and slowly rolled her black wool dress up her hot, white body. She wormed, whimpered, but I didn’t stop with the erotic unveiling until her dress was wound right up tight under her chin and above her armpits, exposing her amazing, curvy physique, the bulging red satin cups of her bra and her tiny red satin panties with the camel-toe indentation down in between her taut thighs.

Then I lifted a swan feather up off the bed, the weight of portent slowing my movements. Constance’s eyes glittered frantic, her long lashes fluttering, her body twisting futilely beneath me. I dusted the girl’s vulnerable underarms with the tickling device, staring at the lush hills of her creamy-white breasts almost bursting her bra.

She gasped and flung her head from side to side on the pillow, her body arching up against mine. But the handcuffs and my butt cheeks held her in place. I brushed the white feather lightly back and forth over the sensitive, glistening flesh of her armpits, riding her spasming body with my pussy.

‘Still won’t talk, huh?’ I rasped.

I dropped the innocent feather, picked up something far more sexually menacing – a pair of silver, fur-inlaid nipple clamps. I placed them on the twin swells at the tops of Constance’s breasts in the straining bra. She stared up at me. I popped the bra open at the front. Her buoyant boobs burst into full blatant sight, swelling up and out right before my dazzled eyes.

‘No, please don’t!’ she implored. ‘You can’t!’

I could barely hear her erotic entreaties, with the blood pounding away in my ears and clit. I fastened my damp hands around Constance’s ivory flesh-cones, cupping the heavy, heated breast-flesh. She closed her eyes and murmured, her pink nipples surging like my blood pressure. I clamped her engorged tit-tips with the cruelly pinching devices, and she bucked up off the bed, almost throwing me.

Breathing even harder than her, I scrambled down to Constance’s quivering white thighs on my trembling knees. I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her wee panties and pulled down. That bewitching muff I’d mentally pictured in so many fantasies sprang up in front of me in full living colour – soft brown fur and pouty pink lips. I could smell its wetness, feel the heat radiating from it, just like in my lust-drunken dreams. In a trance almost, I picked up a foot-long purple dildo with a dial-setting in the base and poked the curved tip into Constance’s brunette pubes.

She moaned, ‘Please! Please!’ Ambiguous as to whether I should pull back or plough forward.

I proceeded full steam ahead, plunging the plastic dildo through Constance’s slickened lips and deep into her luscious pussy. Sealing the deal with the setting on “High”.

She shrieked, her body buzzing like the fuck-toy inside her, her breasts and flesh shivering, nipple clamps just about popping off. I fitted a black leather bit into the girl’s mouth and managed to fasten it around her thrashing head.

Then I rolled her over onto her side, leaving the vibrator inside her doing its dirty work. I snatched up a varnished miniature cricket bat and whacked Constance’s boisterous butt cheeks with the flattened paddle. She jerked and quivered, her bum blushing deliciously. It wasn’t all about getting answers any more; it was also about getting satisfaction – in the worst, most depraved way possible.

I was on fire, blazing with strange, raw emotions that stormed through my body and welled out my pussy, set my breasts and brain to burning. I’d been turned on by Constance’s bondage and domination escapades from afar, and now I was aroused like never before by becoming a first-hand participant in her sinful games. It was all a new, raunchy experience for me, with the reigning, gush-inducing star of the twisted genre.

I went wild, unleashing my inner kink on Miss Cumming, like she wanted it on paper and in reality. I paddled her thick, mounded bottom, fanning her porcelain back-hills red and searing. Then I dropped the bat and grabbed up the riding crop, smacked the flexible leather across Constance’s tremoring buttocks. Her body spasmed with each strapping blow, gasps drooling out from the bit between her clenched teeth, her handcuffs grating on the iron rails.

I was way overdressed for this kind of work. I ripped off my jacket and tie and shirt, kicked off my shoes, tore away my slacks and panties, setting my superheated flesh free. I was even more nude and lewd than laid-out Constance, her balled-up dress and black leather boots still covering a little of her awesome body. I didn’t feel one iota cooler, however; in fact, I felt even hotter.

I straddled Constance’s legs, turned the riding crop over to my left hand and kept on spanking her cheeks, as I roughly fondled her tits with my right hand. The dildo buzzing away deep in her cunt.

She rolled her eyes at me, her lips writhing around the bit. She wanted to scream something. But now I wasn’t at all ready to listen. Instead, I flared red stripes onto her quivering rump, groping her shuddering tits and pulling on her elongated nipples.

Finally, I tossed the crop aside and rolled Constance back over. Her heated bum hissed through her lips against the relative cool of the bedspread.

I pulled the vibrating dildo out of her pussy and the fur-lined clamps off her nipples. Then I jammed one end of a huge, 18-inch, red dong into her cunt. I plugged the other end of the two-woman c-saw into my own steaming pussy, taking the plunge. Constance squeezed her eyes shut and thrust out her tits. And I fell over the top of the glorious girl, onto her welcoming breasts, embedding the two-headed dong inside the both of us.

Our bare skin sucked together, hot and moist and shimmering, breasts and nipples squishing, clits kissing. I yanked the wettened leather bit out of Constance’s mouth and slammed my hungry lips down onto her gasping ones, pumping my hips, fucking us together.

Her tongue wrapped around mine inside her mouth, her body undulating beneath my body to the pumping beat of the dong in our cunts. It was confession time, my subject now punished and primed to spout information.

I jerked my head back, my tongue out of her mouth, and grabbed the sides of her semi-flattened tits, locking the pussy-cocking motion in with my hips. ‘What’s with all the Red-baiting material, Constance?’ I tried again, the pair of us melding red-hot.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and her eyes gained focus. She rattled the handcuffs hooking her wrists to the railings, her body pinned beneath mine, glued pussy to pussy. And then she sighed, breathing sweet relief all over my strained face.

‘They’re Adele’s. She’s using her dirty book company to publish and distribute pro-Soviet literature, and blackmailing me to help in her dirty dealings.’ Her voice was thick and throaty, as deep-down sexy as the rest of the girl.

Our hearts and pussies beat together.

‘Blackmailing you how?’ I queried, pumping the double dong into us, pumping the truth out of Constance.

‘She’s threatened to send some of the photo-books of me to my parents back in Nebraska. So they can see what their daughter’s really doing in the big city.’ The girl’s eyes moistened, and her cute chin trembled. ‘She’s trying to force me to … meet with certain politicians and government officials, plant some of the photo-books on them. And … do other things with them. So she can blackmail
them
for national secrets she can send back to Moscow.’ Constance sobbed softly with shame.

That putrid Bolshevik! And to think I’d freely fucked the woman. Adele Katz was putting the “filthy” into the filthy book business, selling our country down the slimy river. Using her lovely model to turn her dirty tricks. Just thinking about men pawing at Constance’s ample feminine charms made me see red.

I gazed down into the girl’s frightened, watery eyes, my heart and pussy melting. ‘So, that’s why you were meeting with all those women today – to try to gain access to the movers and shakers who Moscow can then shakedown for information, to further their nefarious revolution?’ It was all becoming as clear as a U-2 spy plane photo.

‘You know about that?’ Constance snuffled, sheepish at learning she’d been caught in the act.

I nodded.

‘And while Adele’s trying to make me sell out my country, and my soul, she’s also always trying to make me, herself.’ Constance batted tears from her lashes and set her lush mouth. ‘But I’ll never sink
that
low.’

I admired everything about the girl, all over again. It was time to turn the interrogation back the way we both wanted it. I grinned and pumped my hips harder, and Constance smiled and pumped back, the pair of us riding the dong of delight.

Constance kissed me, licked my lips. I clutched her tits tight to my boobs and sucked on her tongue, then rained wet kisses and sharp bites down on her long, supple neck. She rolled her head around on the pillow, moaning and groaning just as loud as me.

The cunt conflagration roared inferno, the velvety friction intense, both of us drilling deep into our molten sexual cores. The bedsprings squeaked with a raucous urgency, the iron railings rattling right along. Constance and I bounced together, joined at the pussies, stuffed to the G-spots. Our mouths sucked together and our scrambling fingers entwined, bodies and souls merging.

Then our swollen, sensation-overloaded clits flicked once too many times and we shuddered and screamed, jolted by mutual orgasm, vibrating together with utter joy. Ecstasy churned through us in crashing hot wave after wave. We were made for each other, fitted together at fever pitch.

Constance didn’t like my idea at first. But as we cuddled together on her toy-strewn bed in the sweet afterglow of our erotic elation, my right hand playing with her nipples, my left gently smacking her bottom, she came to see that my plan had merit. However personally distasteful to her.

‘I’m as patriotic as you are, Megan,’ the girl protested charmingly. ‘I really love my country. But
seduce
Adele Katz?’ She wrinkled her adorable nose and shivered with disgust at the very disturbing thought.

‘It won’t take any seduction on your part,’ I assured her, remembering my recent lusty interlude with the Cumming-obsessed publisher. ‘She wants you in the worst way – you told me so yourself. If you can just hold your nose long enough, tease her to the breaking point –’ “like I did with you”, I didn’t bother to add ‘– and get the information out of her early, then that’ll be as far as it has to go. For the good of your country.’

‘Who she reports to? And who else is involved in her filthy fifth column?’

‘Right. So we can smash this spy ring.’ I gave the girl a squeeze of her plush tits and buttocks. ‘Adele must be taking her marching orders from someone, have other contacts in the Washington area. She might be just a small twig in an elaborate Communist spy nest.’

I didn’t have to hold
my
nose to smell the Congressional Medal of Honour I was going to earn if we pulled this thing off.

Constance shuddered endearingly against me. Then she turned her lovely face up and smiled with nationalistic resolution. ‘OK, I’ll do it. I’ll sacrifice my body for my country. It’s the least I can do.’