Sparks (A Special Agent Novel Book 1)

by C. P. Mandara

Finally, his mouth turned upwards at the corners. “That isnothow I want to drink my coffee.” The girl looked at him blankly and stood frozen in an obvious state of panic.

  He took pity on her. “Take a sip, but do not swallow. Remember those words. I’ll be using some of them again, later this evening.” Finally, a smile left the contours of his lips. He waited for her to obey.

  Raising the cup, she took a tiny sip of the scalding brew and waited. He let her wait. She could cool the damn stuff down, as the girls always made it too hot. He watched as she struggled for a moment with the heat. He could see the slight downturn of her eyelids and the pinched set to her face. The beautiful emerald eyes changed briefly from their transparent crystal sheen to cloudy pools of discomfiture. His need to devour her grew.

  “Straddle me.” He swung his chair out from under the confines of his desk and allowed her legs to position themselves over his. Inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume, which was spicy and enticing, he allowed his hands to brush lightly over her hips. She shuddered in response. His hands circled her

  tiny waist and caressed the soft flesh of her stomach through the thin material of her blouse. He couldn’t wait to unwrap every last morsel of satiny skin and have her laid bare before him, but there was no rush. He let his hands roam, stroking the soft orbs of her backside before running them down the coarse fabric of her tailored skirt. When the material ended, the smooth silkiness of her legs was a beautiful contrast. His hands began to roll her skirt upwards, inch by slow inch. His fingers walked a leisurely path up her naked inner thighs. Would she be wet? Did she want him? He would demand answers to both of his questions shortly.

  “Kiss me.”

  He watched as she bent down and angled her head. He waited. Plump, full lips pressed against his and he did little more than accept their gentle pressure. If she wanted to get rid of that coffee, she’d need to convince him to open up. If you were asked to play with the boss, you needed to know how to tango. It didn’t take her long to figure the game out. She tilted her head back, keeping the liquid safely inside her mouth and let her tongue trace a warm, wet path around his lips. She circled them from top to bottom with the softest of caresses. Oh, this one was good. Pulling her roughly onto his lap, he sealed his lips over hers and drank from his vessel.

  He took his time plundering her mouth. With slow swirls and long snakes of his tongue he revealed his intent and let the battle commence. Threading his fingers through her luxuriously thick curls, he deepened the kiss, and his mouth sucked the very air from her body. She tasted divine; mainly because she was drinking his coffee, but he could taste peppermint, too, and the combination when added to her sweet saliva was intoxicating. Reluctantly, he released her lips.

  “We’re going to play a little game, you and I,” he murmured seductively.

  “You’re going to feed me every last drop of my coffee, using nothing more than these.” To reiterate his point, he traced an outline of her damp lips with his index finger. Pausing for a second, deep in salacious thought, he took the opportunity to give her a dark look. “If you manage to complete my task without spilling a drop from these luscious ruby-reds, I will allow you the choice of foregoing the punishment I have planned for you, which will be three lashes from my belt.” He watched how her eyelids fluttered downwards and knew she was studying the thick brown leather that encircled his waist. He knew what she was thinking. “Yes, they will hurt.” The delightful shudder of her body caused his cock to pulse and twitch. “Just remember that if you manage to accomplish your task, you have the power to avoid them, but you should also know that if you fail miserably the lashes will be doubled and you will beg for each and every one,” he paused again and bent down to whisper in her ear, “and believe me when I tell you they will lacerate both bodyandmind.” He tipped her chin back with his fingers to admire both the apprehension and lust that were reflected in her large, expressive eyes. She didn’t appear unduly concerned. Ah, so she thought this game was going to be easy. Was this one going to make a grave error and underestimate his tactics? The sexual tension in the room rippled upon an invisible thread and he could smell her arousal, which was pouring off her body with a pleasant and yet powerful aroma. It suffused his office in a matter of seconds and was far more potent than any aphrodisiac he had ever tasted.

  She took her time, giving her lips a sly lick as she was fully aware he had his eyes on them, but when she made to take the cup and saucer in her hand, he had the last laugh.

  “I distinctly remember saying you will feed me using nothing more than your lips, my dear. I believe those are your hands, are they not?” The black look he gave her would have destroyed a lesser mortal.

  When the mesmerising eyes connected with hers, Marianna found that her breath was imprisoned in her throat, too scared to divulge its presence. The cup and saucer rattled dangerously in her hands, the coffee sloshed from side to side in the inadequate confines of its creamy-white porcelain container and her grip faltered. Spraying a moving arc of steaming brown liquid, the cup sailed through the air.

  SWEET DREAMS ARE NOT MADE OF THESE

  Jenny was once again down on all fours, of her own free will for a change, and she was having a stand-off with a herd of pony-girls who looked like sex-starved, rabid dogs. The odds were decidedly stacked against her. The creatures were practically dribbling with excitement.

  There were several dilemmas to be considered, from her perspective. One, she would quite like to let them have their way with her and get a jolly good tonguing, because her body fairly thrummed with excitement. Two, she would be rescued tomorrow, so the stupid threats could probably be ignored. Three, trying to escape these beasts in pony hoof-boots was going to be nigh on impossible. The only trouble was viewpoint four. Number four was murmuring in her ear: but you don’t do girls, do you? The thing was, unless she tried a girl,or perhaps several, how would she know if they were any good? They might be a damn site better than their gender opposites when push came to shove. It could prove to be interesting research. She needn’t have wasted her grey matter, though, because in the end, all her dilemmas mattered for naught.

  Four naked pony-girls took it upon themselves to pin her down and then promptly sat on her. One positioned herself on her chest, another her waist, and the last two took a thigh each. The air in her lungs whooshed out in a painful gasp.Who needed restraints?

  “My name’s Creamy Dream,” said the naked pony on her chest, “but you can call me CD. Who mightyoube?”

  “I didn’t think we were supposed to talk?” Jenny wheezed out the sentence, finding conversation was somewhat painful when you had a good-sized backside pressing all of its weight into your intestines.

  “Oh, as long as we keep the volume down, we can pretty much say what we like in here. Of course, it’s a different matter when the grooms get here tomorrow morning. The good news is that there are quite a few hours between now and tomorrow morning and we get bored with the same old, same old. So, what’s your name?”

  “Jenny,” she croaked. “Henny? That’s an interesting name for a pony. Much better suited to poultry, I’d think,” mused CD. Jenny didn’t have the strength or the necessary volume of air in her lungs, to argue the mistake.

  “Does she have a golden egg?” This came from the pony on her left thigh, whose twin, rather hard buttocks were overlapping each side of her leg.

  “Henny certainly would be rather more an appropriate name if she did,” replied CD. “That was a goose, silly,” said right thigh, rolling her eyes. “I’d always thought it was a hen.”

  “When was the last time we saw an egg?” asked the red-headed pony on her chest, anxious for the conversation to turn the corner.

  “A very,verylong time ago,” said CD and I’m sure Henny won’t have one.

  “I’ll volunteer to go check,” drawled a blond-haired pony, who was sitting in the corner and chewing on a blade of straw in a rather bored fashion. She slowly meandered forward on her hands and knees. Even though she was c
ompletely devoid of make-up, she was clearly beautiful, with flawless skin and elegant cheekbones that would make even Katharine Hepburn’s pale in comparison.

  Jenny paid no attention to her. Now that her eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark interior, she was sizing-up her surroundings. The stable block was divided into several smaller stalls at the rear, perhaps twelve in total, and each featured a heavy wooden door. All the doors were currently closed. Even though the doors were thick and well-built, muffled sounds could be heard filtering through them, some of which were pleasure and others which were not. The floor was made up of tightly compacted earth and strewn with a generous few inches of hay in all directions. There were several stone troughs, similar to the ones she had fed and drank from earlier, and these were positioned against a brick wall to the right. The left wall displayed an array of restraints, such as handcuffs, metal hoops and ropes, which were embedded into the red blocks with large steel screws. That wasn’t all her eyes had managed to spot. Two naked pony girls had been strung up in the ample restraints by their necks, legs, thighs and arms. One had been gagged and blindfolded, and the other had her face dressed in a glossy black hood, with nothing more than two little holes under her nostrils to breathe through. Whilst the gagged one struggled weakly in her bonds, the other had fallen limp in hers, obviously asleep, from the gentle swell of her chest at regular intervals.

  Meanwhile, the blonde had made good progress, nearing the V of Jenny’s open legs and seeing where the newbie’s eyes were headed, she smiled. “That’s one of the better punishments, Henny,” she drawled. “You wait till you see what’s inside those stalls behind you. They get progressively worse the further you move down the line, which in turn means the less sleep you’re likely to achieve in them.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Now I’m just going to nestle myself between your legs, darlin, so make yourself comfortable.”

  The woman was as good as her word. Her shiny, satin tresses tickled Jenny’s thighs as she dipped her head towards the freshly shaven mound. Oh, her hair! She had forgotten all about the massacred mess on top of her head but it was impossible to stay miserable for long. When Beauty inhaled, deeply, at the apex of her legs, she found herself quivering. She had no idea whether this was going to be pleasure or torture and if was going to be pleasure, mightn’t that be a torture all in itself?

  “So soft, smooth and pretty,” Beauty crooned, letting her tongue dip towards the naked, pale pink and fleshy lips of her pussy. Her tongue fluttered in gentle butterfly kisses, tracing the silken line of Jenny’s labia and savouring the heady aroma of lavender and musk. She then traced a pretty line around the flower plug embedded in Jenny’s butt and used her teeth to pull it slowly in and out, several times over. Ponies rarely had any scent other than that of mud, muck or sweat to savour so this was a special treat for her. Overwhelmed by the sweet smell, the blonde opened her mouth wide and suckled at the source of the fragrant nectar.

  “Beauty, stop being greedy. We all want a go. Has she got an egg or not?” CD sounded rather ticked off.

  Right thigh groaned. “She won’t have an egg. It’s been years since someone around here had an egg. Is it my turn to have a suck yet?”

  Beauty sighed. She disengaged her mouth from its succulent resting place and let her red tongue poke out prettily. It was the longest tongue in the stables and she had gained an impressive reputation with its use. Gently parting the folds of Jenny’s pussy and delving around the other edges quickly confirmed what CD was so anxious to know.

  Pulling away reluctantly, not unlike a cat which had just slurped at a bowl of cream, Beauty licked her lips in satisfaction and whispered, “She’s got an egg.”

  The only person in the room not to take a quick indrawn breath was Jenny and the reason for that was twofold; firstly she had no idea what they were on about and secondly, it was a near impossible feat with two people sitting on your torso.

  “Oh, well, that changes things,” said CD, somewhat obliquely.

  Jenny was no longer listening to a word that was being said. Air was becoming a very important commodity. “Can’t breathe,” she rasped.

  “You’ll get used to that,” said CD, blithely unconcerned. “Just you wait until you’re corseted tomorrow. Your stomach will feel like someone’s wrapped a live anaconda around it.”

  “Speaking of snakes,” said left thigh, “did you know that a snake has to digest its prey really quickly, because if it starts to rot they have to regurgitate it or the resulting bacteria will cause food poisoning?”

  “Our thanks to Miss Zoology in the left-hand corner,” said CD with her best forced smile. “Let’s move swiftly on, shall we?”

  “Can I assume that because of her egg, we won’t be going down the traditional initiation route?” Beauty was using her lithe tongue to lap every last trace of Jenny’s sweetness from her lips.

  “Henny, can you remember exactly what the ponies said to you, in regards to your egg?” CD began chewing her nails thoughtfully.

  Lucky her, thought Jenny, whose hands were sweating uncomfortably, bundled up in the tight leather mittens she had been forced to wear. “Um, MG,” Jenny had to pause to suck in air, “said

  something about,” another pause and another strangled breath, “no unauthorised... orgasms.” She was beginning to feel light-headed and nauseous. She had no idea whether it was due to lack of circulation, lack of breathable air or the side-effects of the pain killers which had been administered.

  “Do you remember what the punishment was for failing?” CD bestowed a severe look upon the trainee, which she hoped would indicate how important the question was.

  “No,” replied Jenny, who had her own concerns at the moment, such as trying to remain conscious.

  “Damn,” muttered CD and she promptly slithered off Jenny and began to pace, or what counted as pacing for pony-girls, which was, of course, crawling.

  Thankfully, the others followed her lead. Jenny’s eyes just about managed to pop back into their sockets and she sucked in several great lungful’s of air.

  “Alright, horsies, here’s the plan,” said CD in an authoritative tone, “we probably don’t want to risk a group punishment, so instead of everyone working over the trainee and being rewarded with an orgasm in turn, we’ll have to adjust our procedure slightly.” A collective groan fanned around the room.

  “The trainee will be allowed to perform an enthusiastic welcome to each one of us by demonstrating her oral skills. It’s in our interests to make sure she perfects them as soon as possible. Each pony will then be allowed a few laps at the trainee, wherever they might take her fancy, but we must be careful to ensure that she does not climax.”

  What, what, what?If Jenny had just heard that correctly, there were intending to turn her into a lesbian and then torture her with the newfound knowledge. She squirmed on the prickly hay and managed, with some concentrated effort, to flip herself over and resume her crawling stance.

  “Um, ladies, I don’t do... that.” Jenny waved a mittened paw in the air for emphasis. More ponies were joining the fray now, ones who had been previously snuggled down for the night, judging by the bits of straw that poked out of their hair in scarecrow fashion. There were a few sniggers, some sideways glances and the odd whinny of amusement.

  “You do, now,” said Beauty, and she sat up, crossed her arms over her generously proportioned breasts and parted her thighs in invitation. “I’ve had my three laps, so I guess I’ll go first,” she purred.

  “No, no, you don’t understand,” said Jenny, backing away as fast as her tight and rubbery pony- boots would allow. “I’m going to be rescued tomorrow.”

  There was a long pause before the stable erupted in riotous laughter. Some of the ponies were laughing so hard, they had to sit down and wipe tears from their eyes.

  “Sit on her, Beauty, and we’ll hold her down for you,” said CD, rolling her eyes. She looked rather disgusted with the protégé that appeared to have landed into her care.


  Jenny found herself tumbled once again, which wasn’t really hard considering she didn’t have proper use of either her legs or arms and the same ponies sat in their respective corners. This time

  however, there was yet another obstacle to overcome. Beauty was lowering her...bits... slowly down towards her face. When her knees pressed tightly against either side of her head, making sure she couldn’t move an inch, she pressed the slippery folds of her pussy directly on top of Jenny’s mouth.

  “You don’t get to breathe until you do the business,” said CD ominously, who was once again sitting atop Jenny’s chest.

  Jenny didn’t realise, until quite some time later, that it hadn’t been an idle threat.

  DISASTER AVERTED

  He caught the cup neatly in one hand and by following the direction of the moving liquid, managed to contain the imminent disaster which threatened. A few drops of coffee sailed over the rim of the cup and sloshed around in the saucer. No matter, he’d make sure they were not wasted. Setting the cup back on his desk and returning his attention to the employee before him, he studied her expression. Marianna’s face was a picture: Edvard Munch’s ‘Scream’ to be exact. Her jaw was slack in horror, her eyes were so wide her eyelids had almost lost themselves in the back of her head and her hands flailed around madly. She began stammering.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr Mmm...atthews. I mean, Sss..sir.”

  Mark sat back in his seat and had to work hard at keeping his grin in check. This was priceless. She had just delivered her pretty little backside on a platter for his delectation. How adorable this one was. Why had he not used her before? It took a few moments to compose himself before he could locate the stern tone that was needed with which to chastise her.

  “You’ve made not one, but two grave mistakes within seconds, my dear. What shall I do with you?” He let the open question settle in the silence of the office. As expected, she made no response. She did manage to sink to her knees once more and resume her stance of supplication, which was, he conceded, an apology of sorts.