The Innocent

by John Argus

  ‘And lock it, please,’ he added.

  She braced herself, her hand gripping the door handle, and then reluctantly slipped the lever up to lock it before approaching his desk.

  ‘And what may I do for you this lovely morning, Ms Quincanon?’ he asked, with a polite smile.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Erasmus,’ she said, licking her lips anxiously. ‘I wanted to bring something to your attention, and—’

  ‘Yes?’ He rose and stepped around the desk.

  ‘Mr Erasmus, I was hoping to talk to you about… about…’

  ‘Your weakness?’ he prompted.

  She blushed, shaking her head. ‘No, Mr Erasmus,’ she said determinedly, ‘nothing like that.’

  ‘Have you given any thought to the need to discipline your body, Zoe?’ he persisted.

  Unable to deny him a response to the question, she said, ‘Um, well, yes…’ Although she had not succeeded in the least, she had certainly thought about it.

  ‘We do want to help you, Zoe.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Erasmus, but—’

  ‘We should take every opportunity to do so, you know.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ This was not going at all how she intended.

  ‘I have great hopes for you, Zoe.’

  ‘Um, thank you, sir.’

  ‘I know you have the inner strength to conquer this problem of yours. But you wanted to talk to me about something else?’ He folded his arms across his chest.

  ‘Well, yes, about the orphans,’ she said, getting her thoughts back on the reason for her being there.

  ‘The orphans?’ He blinked in surprise. ‘I suppose we can discuss orphans if it’s your pleasure… pleasure,’ he repeated, considering the word. ‘You know, we should take advantage of this and see if you can focus your concentration and avoid giving in to your naughty impulses. Yes, there’s an excellent idea.’ He uncrossed his arms and slipped his fingers into the loose knot of her sash, tugging it undone so that it hung from the two loops at her hips.

  ‘W-what are you doing, sir?’ she asked weakly.

  ‘Placing before you temptation, so you can fortify yourself against that temptation,’ he explained sedately, and her hands rose without conviction to stop him as he began slowly undoing the buttons down the front of her dress.

  ‘Hands up behind your head,’ he ordered, his tone suddenly abrupt and firm, and she instantly responded to that tone of authority as much as to his words. She felt her heart beating faster as he undid the last button, and her dress draped open. Her eyes widened as she recalled her newly shaven sex, and colour filled her face as she imagined what he would think of her if he saw it.

  ‘Chin up and chest out,’ he instructed, positioning her hands so they rested firmly on the nape of her neck. He then caressed her slowly from just below her breasts down to her belly, where the tips of his fingers eased beneath the delicate elastic of her panties. ‘Now I want you to maintain this position and to keep your voice perfectly calm, Zoe. I want you to ignore whatever your body is telling you; whatever urges it sends to your brain. You can conquer those urges, if you’re strong.’

  He rubbed her stomach gently, his hand moving in a circular motion. ‘Are you feeling any urges yet?’

  ‘No,’ she answered softly, thinking it best to lie even though lying was also wrong and totally against her nature.

  His fingers crept up her body and squeezed into the half cups of her bra, tugging them gently downwards. She inhaled sharply as she felt the cups pulled lower, felt the material sliding down despite its resistance, and her soft breasts exposed, pushed up and out by the bunched white band of material lodged beneath them.

  ‘And now?’ he asked, tweaking one of her erect nipples.

  ‘A little,’ she confessed truthfully.

  ‘You must resist those urges,’ he said sternly, even while squeezing her nipple.

  ‘I will,’ she sighed. ‘I will try, Mr Erasmus, I promise, but I wanted to talk to you about—’

  ‘And I will help you, my dear.’ His hand slipped down, into her panties, and her pulse accelerated and she cringed mentally as he eased the soft cotton down and stared at her bare sex.

  ‘It – it feels kind of neater this way,’ she said desperately. ‘I mean, it seemed… I was thinking that lots of girls are now—’

  ‘Be quiet,’ he ordered, bending to tug her panties all the way down her legs, and slapping her ankle so she would raise her foot and step out of them. Then he straightened up again, glowering at her. ‘Zoe Quincanon, this is not good,’ he growled.

  ‘But…’ she didn’t know what to say, ‘but…’

  ‘You disappoint me,’ he said, and then his hand was between her legs, cupping her naked sex, his palm pressed hard against it. ‘You must ignore the lascivious thoughts that come to you from here unless you want to be thought of as a wanton by all who meet you. But I see we will have to resort to sterner methods.’ He released and moved behind her, tugging the dress over her shoulders and forcing her arms back as he did so. She gasped, but held obediently still as the dress slid down her arms, and off. A moment later he wrapped the sash around her arms just above her elbows, slowly drawing the material in so her shoulders were pinched back and her breasts thrust out.

  ‘Oh, Mr Erasmus, my arms—’

  ‘Perhaps a little pain will distract you from your wanton desires and this unnatural fixation you have for sex, young lady. In fact, it would not be a bad thing for you to associate sex with pain instead of pleasure. Perhaps then you might be better able to resist its call.’

  Zoe groaned as her arms were forced back even further, her shoulders aching as Mr Erasmus tightened the sash. She felt her lower arms pressed together, and then her elbows made contact, which heightened the pain in her shoulders.

  He stepped in front of her again, and then moved over to his desk and picked up an old wooden ruler, returning whilst shaking his head at the sight of her.

  She remembered her cause again, and without letting herself think, blurted out, ‘Mr Erasmus, I need to talk to you about the orphans!’

  He sniffed. ‘Do so then. It will be a good measure of your determination if you can remain focussed upon a worthy cause. Orphans, you say? What about them?’

  Her breasts rose and fell quickly. Being naked was part of it, but it was the sash binding her that was seriously arousing her. ‘Well, there’s this orphanage, you see…’ she started.

  ‘Really? Didn’t know we had any of those left.’

  She watched him slide the tips of two fingers between his lips, and then place them on either side of her right nipple. He squeezed it.

  ‘I read about it in the paper!’ she gasped. ‘The orphans are going to lose their home and I… I thought it would be a good place for your grant program.’

  He drew his fingers back, brought the ruler up next to her nipple, and lightly slapped it. She cried out softly. It was only a light blow, it hardly stung at all, but then he swung the ruler somewhat harder again, and then again, slapping her stiff nipple, and the repeated stinging sensation began making her aureole turn a hot pink and begin to throb.

  ‘Which grant program?’ he asked, idly continuing to slap her nipple as she squirmed and her toes curled up in her shoes.

  ‘The one… to prevent,’ she panted between slaps, ‘juvenile… delinquency!’

  ‘And how would we use that to help orphans?’ he asked conversationally.

  ‘I thought… that if the orphans… lost their home… they’d be more likely to… to be at loose ends and… and get into trouble!’ she gasped, her shoulders aching as she trembled beneath the steady rain of stinging flicks.

  ‘How do you know being in an orphanage will stop delinquency?’ He turned his attention to her other nipple.

  ‘It’s the uncertainty,’ she
said, her vision swimming a little. ‘It’s moving around all over the place, in and out of one foster home after the other. They have no stability, no security. They do much better at the orphanage.’

  He pressed his fingers against her lips, and almost without thinking she licked as they slipped into her mouth. He smiled at her as he withdrew them, and a moment later she felt them against her sex. She gasped, her back arching a little as he stroked her bare furrow. She could feel the hardness of her clitoris and its raw need for attention.

  He pulled his fingers back and then let the ruler ease down between her legs. With short, almost gentle movements he swung it up against her sex, especially near to where her swollen bud hid. The quick little spanking blows brought tears to her eyes, and she whimpered in pain. Where before her pubic hair might have offered some protection, now the flat wood slapped unhindered against her moist flesh, and sharp little stabs of discomfort shot up through her sex. She squirmed and moaned and pulled her thighs together.

  He halted, frowning at her. ‘You never try to close your legs when feeling pleasure, Quincanon,’ he observed bluntly, ‘so don’t do it against the pain. Open your legs at once, young lady.’

  Reluctantly, Zoe tried to relax and eased her thighs apart. It was hard to think straight, but she knew she had to obey Mr Erasmus’s orders.

  Her nipple throbbed and ached as he bent and took it into his mouth. He suckled and chewed at the surrounding flesh, and she moaned as he bit harder. Then he gripped her hair suddenly, and she cried out softly as he pulled her head forward while at the same time thrusting two fingers up into her slick pussy and pumping them rapidly in and out.

  ‘You feel this terrible carnal desire, don’t you, Quincanon?’ he said spitefully. ‘Perhaps it requires something else besides discipline. Perhaps it’s like an itch that needs to be scratched.’ He drew back as he forced her down. ‘On your knees…’ he hissed, his rapid change of mood alarming her. ‘That’s it, now bend forward, and I shall place you into the position of the conquered female forced to submit her body to the greater strength of the conquering male.’ And he pushed her down until her cheek was pressed against the carpet and her buttocks raised high. Then he lifted the ruler again as he looked down upon her submissive beauty.

  ‘Raise your bottom higher and keep your knees apart,’ he commanded, slapping her bottom with the ruler so it cracked loudly against her skin. Then he prowled slowly around her as he spoke. ‘I want you to feel the instinctive desires within you,’ he said quietly, ‘the knowledge that this is the position of womanhood, the position of submission, the position of the female begging to be mounted by the male.’

  Zoe instinctively pulled her knees closer together, but another sharp smack on her bottom cheeks had her spreading them again as he continued pacing around her.

  ‘Is that what you think you need, Quincanon? Is that what your body craves? Do you even now imagine a man covering you and plunging his powerful erection deep into your sex, gripping your hips and riding you like a wild bitch in heat?’

  ‘No!’ she gasped, though his words made the dark hunger inside her deepen dangerously.

  ‘Well,’ he mused, ‘we shall see.’

  Zoe felt him kneeling behind her, and bewildering anticipation screamed through her mind and body as his hands caressed her hips. She felt naked and open and vulnerable as his caress travelled over her buttocks. His fingers probed her juicy sex, and then there was something else there, something hard yet tender and much thicker than his fingers.

  ‘I will mount you, Quincanon, and ride you like the bitch you are,’ he promised, ‘and perhaps this will serve to sate your unnatural desires for a time.’

  She felt the thick girth of his erection as it pushed against her virgin sex, and knew he was going to do exactly what he said he would. She berated herself for the pleasure coursing through her as his cock probed, eased just inside, paused in her moistness as she held her breath, and then with a stab of his hips it thrust deep… and deeper… and deeper still, his shaft seeming to slide endlessly between the taut lips of her sex as her mouth opened in a silent scream, the bulbous head pushing aside her softly resisting flesh as it burrowed into her belly.

  Mounted. Ridden. Fucked!

  The words echoed in her head, bringing with them an exquisite sense of submission. She groaned as his erection plunged to the hilt inside her and she felt his groin batter her buttocks. He spanked her, and then ground his pelvis against her. She cried out as he gripped her hair, snatching her head back, and she felt his cock pull all the way out, only to plunge forcefully back into her again.

  He began riding her with no regard for gentleness, his groin hammering her buttocks with enough power to set her entire body shaking, pumping savagely between her thighs with fast, deep strokes that had her groaning helplessly, feeling like she was desperately clinging to her sanity. There was anguish in being used so roughly, and yet despite the discomfort, she felt there was something right and natural in what was being done to her. She felt possessed by a force of nature, by a real man acting under the impetus of the natural order of things. There was no guilt, only a breathtaking sense of surrender. Her mind turned inward, following the passage of his rigid cock within her yielding sheath, basking in the sensations as it stroked her innermost flesh. She found herself revelling in his deep plunging rhythm. A small part of her remembered she was supposed to be doing her best to ignore the pleasure, but this was a hazy, nebulous thought amidst the torrent of wanton desires surging through her every time he thrust.

  She trembled violently in his grasp as an orgasm exploded like a divine bomb between her thighs. The world turned white as her flesh flared with an ecstasy so intense it shattered her ability to think and flung her into a maelstrom of bliss. It was absolutely glorious, and when she could think again, she knew nothing else could ever be so good, that nothing else could ever matter so much as such pure bliss. She ought not to fight it but to embrace it, cherish it and worship it… because one climax had not completely sated her. As he continued pummelling her upraised bottom, his hardness pumping furiously in and out of her clinging slickness, she felt another wave of joy cresting in the pit of her stomach. It took much less time than before, and then her body was once again convulsing as another orgasm broke between her legs, less powerful than the first but glorious nonetheless.

  ‘I’m very disappointed in you, young lady,’ Mr Erasmus panted through clenched teeth, his chest heaving as he rutted against her. ‘Very disappointed, indeed.’

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Well, what have you done about that Quincanon girl?’

  Selina hesitated; Allison had a way of catching her unawares with questions, and though she had planned to say nothing about what had gone on between her and Zoe, the question had not come until now, when she least expected it.

  ‘You went to her flat the other evening.’ This time it was a statement, not a question, and Selina found herself gripped by uncertainty. What sources did Allison have? How much could she know? Did she dare lie to her? She was such a poor liar, except around the gullible Zoe. ‘I went to lunch at a café with her,’ she said, knowing half a truth was better than an outright lie.

  ‘Don’t play games with me,’ Allison warned.

  ‘She talked about… some things.’

  ‘Involving Beacher?’

  Selina nodded reluctantly. ‘Although not Beacher in the main.’

  ‘Who else, then?’ Allison probed.

  Selina shrugged, and ran a fingernail around the base of a lamp sitting on the Edwardian table beside her chair.

  ‘Selina, do you remember the height of our little game playing last year? Remember how the bright lights beckoned the would-be model in you?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Did you really believe there was no film in that camera?’

  The words hit S
elina like an electric shock. She had climaxed too many times to count. Her mind was blurred with pleasure, and no small amount of liquor. Their bodies had writhed together in and out of bed, across the floor, on the sofa, before the fireplace, in a shocking, wonderful release from the restraint bred into her life. It had seemed wicked to pose naked before the fireplace as the flash lit up the room, and artistic nudes had become increasingly more daring, more depraved, as she sought to imitate the photos in men’s magazines. ‘No, there was no film,’ she insisted desperately, her voice trembling.

  Allison smiled mockingly, opened a drawer, and pulled out an envelope she tossed onto the table. Selina stared down at it, and then shot Allison a look of contempt before picking it up and opening it.

  The photo was black-and-white and rather artistic. The shadows gave it depth, and she thought she looked exotically beautiful. The sexual excitement in her eyes was obvious as she arched her back and gestured the viewer closer. The photo showed her from the waist up, and would not have caused a scandal except amongst her family. But where there was one there were bound to be others, and she knew those others would make her life extremely difficult. ‘You bitch,’ she hissed, only for Allison to shrug with infuriating indifference. ‘I want the pictures,’ Selina said determinedly. ‘And I want all of them!’

  ‘But I don’t wish to part with them, Selina,’ Allison goaded. ‘They help me cherish the memories of that night, and whenever I see you as you are now, so prim and proper in your pretty little greys-and-whites, I think back to that night and the way you writhed and screamed and begged for more when you came.’

  Selina stared at her in furious frustration. ‘Allison, I want those pictures,’ she said slowly.

  ‘Or what, you’ll expose me as a lesbian?’ Allison mocked. ‘Everyone already knows I like girls, but they’d be surprised to see your face buried in a juicy pussy. Not to mention those amazing things you did with the cucumber.’ She laughed as Selina continued glaring at her. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I have no intention of showing them to your parents, or anyone else, for that matter. I was just reminding you that you’re not exactly pure and chaste and noble. You’re a slut just like the rest of us, so don’t get in my way over moral concerns. Now, tell me about Zoe Quincanon…’ a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes, ‘all about Zoe Quincanon.’