Sarah Fisher - The contract

In cell 27 crouched the reason for his late night visit. Emily Lawrence was curled into a fetal ball, her naked sex peeking shyly between the curve of her thighs. The silver ring was just visible under the harsh overhead light. He watched for a few seconds, trying to guess whether she was asleep or awake before fitting his master key into the lock.

Her body stiffened as she strained to hear his approach. On cat-like feet he moved alongside her bed. The thin hood picked out her distinctive features, rendering her face to an ebony sculpture. He stroked her thighs gently. "Straighten your legs," he whispered. "I want to look at you."

Slowly she complied, her lips trembling below the edge of the mask. Laid out for him under the unforgiving eye of the lamps she was a feast. "Open you legs," he murmured as he circled her nipples, delighted that they hardened under the merest touch. The rings looked superb; Johnson had been right in his decision to pierce her. He bent closer and took one between his lips, sucking the little fleshy peak and the cool ring into his mouth. She shuddered, obviously afraid that the flesh would tear.

As he kissed and sucked each peak in turn he moved his hands lower to stroke her sex; so tempting but as yet unavailable. He parted the lips gently above her clitoris and then kissed a soft moist route down over her belly until the little peak nestled between his lips.

Beneath him the girl began to moan – at once both afraid and excited. As his tongue worked faster she lifted up to meet his caresses. Her sex tasted of the sea, of a dark ancient ocean that compelled men to seek it out.

God, he would like to fuck her, feel his cock buried in that tight wet tunnel. The ring was just a gesture, a symbol, if he'd wanted to he could have slipped inside her…

Instead he pulled back, as the girl's pleasure began to drive him out to the edge of recklessness. He stood up and undid his trousers, guiding his stiff angry cock towards her trembling mouth. As she felt it brush her lips she shuddered and then opened for him.

"Carefully," he said in a low voice. "If you bite me, Leonora will take the greatest pleasure in pulling you teeth."

The girl stiffened momentarily and then began to lap and suck at him; a terrified puppy who sought only to please. Max Fielding smiled to himself and slipped his finger back towards her sex; after all there was no need to be stingy with pleasure.

"And just where do you think you're going?" said a crisp, efficient female voice.

Peter Howard was almost relieved to be caught trying to make his way to the nurses' station. The corridor floor was spinning up to meet him as he leant breathlessly against the wall outside his room. A strong pair of arms caught him under the armpits.

"I just wanted to get my things."

The corridor lights seemed to be darkening around him and his voice was disappearing down a distant echoing tunnel. He clutched frantically at the smooth walls.

"If you can just hang on for a split second," said his rescuer, "I'll grab a wheel chair and we'll have you back in your bed in no time. You should have rung if you wanted anything."

Peter was looking up into the eyes of a statuesque strawberry blonde dressed in a crisp navy blue dress. The uniform did nothing to disguise the fact that she had a figure that would drive most men insane. She smiled coolly at his appraising and appreciative stare. "I can see you're on the mend," she said with amusement. "So what was it you were looking for?"

Peter focused on her name badge. "Sister Ruskin?" he said in surprise.

She nodded and took hold of his wrist. "My, my, but your pulse is racing, Mr Roberts. I think we'd better get you back into bed."

Peter nodded. "I wanted to see the things they'd brought in with me – when they fished me out of the water?"

She gave him an indulgent look. "Did you try looking in your bedside locker?"

Peter blushed. "I never thought -" he began but the Sister's expression stopped him in his tracks.

She winked at him knowingly and wheeled him back into his room. As she helped him into bed Peter could detect a tiny but unmistakable hum of desire in her touch. He glanced across at her; her pupils were dilated and glittered darkly like jet. He didn't want to betray his ignorance and waited whilst she crouched to retrieve what was in the bedside locker.

His heart leapt as he saw the familiar contours of his hold-all – it appeared unscathed – but there was something else. The sister placed a large white envelope alongside the leather bag. It was sealed with the hospital's official stamp and marked 'Private' in a round distinctive hand.

"The doctors wanted to try and find out more about you, whether you had a family, or were on any medication – that sort of thing."

Peter picked up the envelope and turned it thoughtfully between his long fingers. It felt thick, like a magazine or – he smiled as comprehension dawned – a brochure. Johnson had given him a sample brochure for their company's flagship retreat, Deuvar. He'd got no idea it had been in his holdall. The brochure was an elegant maroon-bound book whose tasteful and discreet cover belied its torrid contents.

"Did you take a look inside?"

The woman nodded and bit her lip. "Yes," she replied softly. "I never dreamt such places existed."

Peter peeled open the flap of the envelope. "And did it excite you?"

She nodded, her face flushing crimson, "Oh yes," she said. "I'm rather afraid it did!"

Peter Howard smiled. "Perhaps I can help you then," he said softly.

He watched as Sister Ruskin tucked him carefully into his bed, her hands moved rapidly, her face was still flushed from her confession.

"What I really need is access to a computer," he said when she finally looked at him. She was so close that he could detect the smell of her perfume and beneath it the scintillating hint of perspiration. His fingers moved to her ample breasts, seeking out the tight buds of her nipples. She hesitated as he began to undo her uniform.

"Have you any idea," he said in a low, barely audible voice, "what it feels like to be at a man's beck and call? Always to be available for his every wish, his every desire?" One hand snaked lower to gather up her skirt as he pressed his lips to her cleavage. She shivered and moaned softly, the colour draining from her face, as she pressed her body closer to him and he found the swollen mound of her sex between meaty muscular thighs.

"I could teach you so much, Sister Ruskin," he said darkly. His touch was more brutal now, probing amongst the fabric to find an entry. Instinctively she opened her legs to give him greater access, and let out a throaty gasp as he tore the fabric aside and plunged his fingers into her sopping quim.

"My God, you're so wet, so ready." He pressed wet kisses to her warm fragrant skin. "I would like to fuck you, tied on all fours; push deep inside you as you lay bound and gagged for my pleasure." He let one finger toy with her anus. "No place is too secret, no pleasure too wild. Would you like that, Sister? Or perhaps you would prefer to be beaten first?"

He slipped his fingers out of her, letting one hand cup her plump cool arse. "The kiss of a belt here, making your skin sing, making you beg for mercy and more in the same sweet breath. Would you like that?"

Desperately she pulled herself away from him, eyes flashing diamond bright as she re-buttoned her bodice. "My God!" she hissed breathlessly. "Will you take me to this place, to Deuvar?"

"The question is," Peter said, "will you help me to get my hands on a decent computer?"

The sister tugged her uniform straight and then nodded. "They've got a computer on the ward, in the clerk's office. Do you think that would be all right?"