Sarah Fisher - The contract

Behind her Birdie roared. Emily felt the electric throb of his own climax coursing through her, a stunning counterpoint to her own pleasure. For a second or two, when the waves receded, he leant against her to catch his breath, the heat of his body seeping into hers.

"My God!" He was resting his head against her shoulder. "You would have been wasted on just one man."

He stepped away from her, running his fingers through the trail of his excitement between her legs. The after-shocks of pleasure made her tremble. She stood still for a few seconds, trying to regain her composure, listening as Birdie unlocked Kai.

This was Deuvar. By coming here she had placed herself at the beck and call of any man who wanted her. Any man who wanted to use her, take her, and the realisation excited some part of her mind in a way she was almost too afraid to contemplate.

Birdie slipped his fist back through her leash and jerked it tight. "Come on," he snapped, still breathing unevenly. "There'll be time for more later." He fingered his leather belt. "Time maybe to teach you a few more lessons before the other guests get to take a share of your sweet little arse."

Kai walked silently beside them both, the remains of her dress plastered against her slim body. Her long hair dripped onto her shoulders and her eyes were downcast. She was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to sense the change in Emily. Emily longed to touch her, try and do something to make amends, try and explain that she understood. Instead, they fell into step and headed back towards Leonora's office.

Peter Howard hunched uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Angela's ageing estate car.

Outside, through the winter darkness, he didn't recognise the countryside or any landmarks. The country roads were almost empty, winding back and forth between dense woodland and small villages. He glanced down at the map on his knees. It was too dark to read but he was certain that in another mile or so they would join the motorway.

They had barely spoken since he had turned off the computers, though he was convinced she had phoned her employer. He wondered if her contacts would be waiting for him too. In spite of the dangers erotic possibilities filled his exhausted mind.

If only they had had more time to explore the dark side of her nature. He would like to have her pierced. Her broad pink nipples would look magnificent topped with little silver rings, with tiny bells that would announce her arrival or her excitement. He imagined them pressed against her dark blue cotton nurses uniform.

And he would shave her quim, revealing the plump contours of the delicious meaty sex that crouched between her heavy thighs. Yes, Angela was a banquet. He shivered, feeling the familiar press in his groin. He imagined her tied across a table with soft leather thongs, lit by the soft glow of candles as he laid a studded tawse across the naked mound, making the delicate skin flush crimson with heat and pain.

In the headlights of a passing car Peter glanced across at his silent companion. Her face was drawn and pale, her fingers gripped the steering wheel.

"Are you still wearing the harness?"

Angela groaned. "You're totally incorrigible."

"Answer me!"

"Yes. I am wearing it!"

He closed his eyes and imagined her again secured for his pleasure, the harness biting into her delicate flesh, a pillow beneath those heavy thighs as he ranged over her body with a tawse and his lips. She would sob as he cracked the leather down on her breasts, writhing and twisting away from the stinging delicious heat. Between her legs, between her naked glowing lips, he would see the slick silvery juices of her excitement, encouraging him on, driving him towards release.

He could almost hear her begging him to stop as he mounted her and forced his cock into her hot wet mouth. His shaft would silence her words as she drained him dry, sucking, desperate to pleasure him. Finally he would untie her and she would crawl towards him, slide down from the table and curl herself up at his feet, awaiting his command.

A picture of Emily Lawrence formed slowly in his imagination, her slim lithe frame a stunning counterpoint to the heavier curves of Angela. In the shadows he would sit watching the women, sensing their excitement as Angela spread her legs and Emily moved closer, her mouth open, tongue peeping provocatively between her full lips. He stroked a finger idly across her belly.

"Open yourself for me," he whispered in his imagination, or was it sleep? Emily blushed deliciously and then slid two fingers between the lips of her sex, revealing the moist pink flower within. He smiled, relishing the sense of power. "Angela," he said in an undertone, "kiss my sweet love, make her beg for more."

Beside him Angela climbed reluctantly onto her knees, eyes alight with apprehension and revulsion – but she wouldn't refuse him. She kissed the wet fragrant crease, shivering when she tasted Emily's excitement. Emily moaned and threw back her head as the older woman began to lick her in earnest, her plump pink tongue tracing the delicate contours of Emily's engorged clitoris. Peter slid onto his knees behind Angela and plunged his raging angry cock into her dripping sex, impaling her again and again, encircling her pierced breasts with his hands, dragging her back onto him while above them Emily sobbed with pleasure.

It seemed no more than a few seconds later that he woke from the tantalising dream, sprung from sleep by the sound of a motor horn. Images of Angela and Emily lingered for an instant in the erotic tableau that was hard to tear himself away from. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was and a second or two longer to realise that they were now stationary. His cock ached. Beside him, Angela had her hands wrapped around a steaming plastic beaker of coffee and looked totally exhausted.

Across the car park, a motor-way service area was doing a roaring trade. Peter stretched and then winced as half a dozen rogue vertebra snapped back into position. Angela passed him a lidded cup of coffee from a plastic tray.

"I just couldn't go any further without a break," she said. "I was afraid I might fall asleep."

He nodded and sniffed, trying to beat his tired mind back into shape. "How much further?" he said thickly, voice still throaty from sleep.

"About an hour, the traffic at this time of night is fairly light. All except for the lorries." She grinned. "Your instructions are pretty good." The words were followed by a stifled yawn. He noticed she was wearing the long coat she'd worn when they'd taken a walk together.

He stroked her face. "Are you wearing anything under that?"

"It's to damned cold out there to go naked."

Peter leant closer. "Pity."

Angela yawned again behind her gloved hand. "Why? What had you got in mind?"

He smiled, recalling the fragments of his dream. "A million and one possibilities for a woman of your calibre." He glanced at the car clock. "Why don't you have a nap? If we're only an hour away from Deuvar we've made good time."

Stiffly he turned round, pulled a rug off the back seat and handed it to her.

She looked at him curiously. "And what are you going to do?"

"Drink my coffee, stretch my legs and by the time I get back I'll have decided which of those million and one possibilities we've got time for before our little show down at Deuvar."

Angela smiled sleepily. "Do you want me to get the wheelchair out for you?"

Peter shook his head. "I'll be fine. I'm much stronger now."

Without a word of protest Angela pulled the rug up around her shoulders. Within seconds her eyes were closed and before Peter had finished his coffee her soft steady breathing informed him that his chauffeur, rescuer and betrayer was sound asleep. He let himself out of the car and took a deep breath. The night air was like broken glass, ripping into his lungs. Head bowed against the icy wind he made his way unsteadily towards the service area.