The Mount Series Boxset

by K D Grace

  Her eyes stung from lack of sleep. She rubbed the corners to avoid smearing her make-up. At the moment, there’d be no ponying of any sort, even if she wanted to and she sure as hell did not. There must be something else she could offer to get him off her back, but Jesus it was hard to concentrate on anything but getting enough breath in her lungs and keeping her tender bits from being pinched.

  She was such an idiot. She could have been chastity-belt-free by now. Last night, in the wee hours as she struggled to finish the proposal, she’d had three calls from her mother on the land line, calls she didn’t answer. Her number was supposed to be unlisted. Fat lot of good that did. The woman knew she was in London now. That worried her.

  Somewhere between the awful itching of the belt and her efforts to master peeing through a sieve, she had made up her mind. She would suffer no more humiliation. She never wanted to be a member of The Mount in the first place. She didn’t even know what the hell that meant. And as for Edward, well if he was truly interested in her, he’d be interested whether she played Vivienne’s stupid game or not.

  Then his text had come.

  I no the nite was hard, but itl b so worth it. Plse trust me. I miss u terribly. Exx.

  The ‘Exx’ had kept her hanging on.

  Enduring Owen’s abuse in a chastity belt – surely that must be the definition of hell. It wasn’t Edward in the chastity belt, was it? Oh no, he was too busy being sucked off by Vivienne, and who knew what else they got up to after Rita had provided the evening’s entertainment. That was it! When Owen finished ranting, she’d go home and remove the chastity belt. Then she’d masturbate her pussy raw, and mail the key back to Vivienne specifically telling her what she could do with it.

  Owen had got around to groping her shoulders again, in the form of a friendly massage. ‘I’d hoped to mentor you, Rita,’ he said, enjoying the view down the front of her blouse. ‘But somehow I’ve failed you. If you could just give me something, something to make me believe you’re up for this job.’

  The words just came out. ‘What if I could get you an inside exclusive on The Mount?’ The minute she’d said it, she felt guilty. Thoughts of making love to Edward flashed through her head.

  Owen nearly busted himself in a fit of laughter that came out in hot little puffs against the top of her head. ‘Honey, if you could get an inside exclusive on The Mount, you’d get a Pulitzer. Hell, you could have my job, or anyone else’s. Your career would be made, wouldn’t it?’ He heaved a sigh that ended in an avuncular chuckle ‘I know your situation seems desperate, darling, but there’s no need to promise what you can’t deliver. I’m sure we can work something out.’

  Suddenly she could think of nothing she’d love more than to expose that bitch, Vivienne, to massive media humiliation. Visions of the woman kneeling in front of Edward with his cock in her mouth went a long way to assuage the guilt she felt at betraying him. Once the Vivienne-hate stopped making her feel like her chest might explode, she ignored Owen’s continuing rant as the realisation suddenly sunk in. The gift horse had been given to her. Here was the story of a lifetime all wrapped up with a bow and a chastity belt, an exclusive that no one else in the whole world could get. And it was all hers. She was an insider. She was an initiate. All she had to do was endure, and she was good at enduring.

  ‘I’ve been there,’ she said softly.

  Owen stopped mid rant. ‘You what?’

  ‘I said I’ve been there, to The Mount. Twice.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ He stumbled back to his desk and downed the rest of his tea in one burning gulp. ‘Are you serious? You can’t be serious? How could you have got into The Mount?’

  She shifted in the chair to scoot forward, then thought better of it when the belt gave her a good pinch in the crotch. ‘Let’s just say I have friends there, and that chances are extremely good I’ll be invited back. Soon’

  For a long moment, he studied her hard. She could just make out the flutter of his pulse against his throat. Then he leaned over his desk. ‘Can you get me in?’ His words were little more than a breathy rasp. She was certain the rumours about The Mount’s orgies and sex parties were not nearly as arousing to him as what being seen there would do for his reputation.

  ‘I can try.’ True enough. She could try. But she wouldn’t, not even if hell froze over.’

  He drummed his fingers. ‘Mind you, I’m still not convinced you were ever there in the first place. I mean people do strange things when their jobs are on the line.’

  She said nothing. She held the winning hand, and he knew it.

  ‘Of course,’ he added quickly, ‘if you could get me a story, even just an insider’s account of an evening there, readers would eat it up. If you can do that, well, like I said, you’re on your way up, honey.’

  ‘Oh I can do that.’ She leaned forward and felt the pinch. ‘I can do that and a whole lot more.’

  Once Owen was convinced that Rita had actually been to The Mount, and hints had been dropped that she’d try to get him a reservation, her escape from the office was easy enough. After all, she was an investigative reporter, and as such she now had a plan of action, something to concentrate on other than the constant feeling of suffocation.

  It was unusually hot in the flat for early spring, so she stripped down to the dratted belt and a thin vest and began to write, in as much detail as she could remember, the events that had led to her acceptance as an initiate into The Mount. What did it actually mean to be a member of The Mount? Did it just ensure she could get reservations for the table of her choice and free dance lessons whenever she wanted? She stroked the metal crotch of the chastity belt. Somehow she seriously doubted it.

  Most of the online information about The Mount was purely speculative, a lot of it from gossip rags that claimed to know somebody who knew somebody who had an acquaintance who got reservations. Still Rita hoped to uncover something new.

  There were claims that The Mount taught the dirtiest of dirty dancing, the kind that ended in the horizontal mambo. There were claims that the place was really a restaurant where rich epicureans paid massively to sample rare species of animal. There were claims of orgies and devil worship and money laundering and white slavery.

  Amid all the rumours, there was one actual restaurant review from a Guardian journalist who wrote that he’d seen nothing more exotic on the menu than locally farmed ostrich meat, though he had eaten the steak Diane, and it was superb. He had added as a post-script that he had not found the dancing dirty in the least, and that it had been rather subdued the night he was there.

  Later, rumours went out that the whole interview had been orchestrated, that the journalist had never actually been to The Mount, but had been hired by The Mount to take some of the heat off. This was outrageous in light of the fact that the more wild the rumours, the harder people tried to get reservations and the longer the queues were in front of the entrance every night.

  Everyone knew that Vivienne Arlington Page managed The Mount, but no one seemed to know who owned it. No one knew anything beyond the fact that the empty Victorian wool warehouse had been bought up and renovated and voila! The Mount burst fully formed into the world.

  The sleepless night and the stress of the past twenty-four hours made concentration hard. Rita finally turned off the computer to take a nap. She usually slept in the nude, which made the chastity belt even more of a pain, but with a heavy sigh she slipped out of her vest and pulled back the duvet.

  As she did so, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror, and a flash of blinding light reflected off the metal plate that cupped her pubis in a tight caress. She hadn’t noticed that the plate below the locking mechanism was shaped like a cupping palm, as though someone had reached between her legs and rested a protective hand against her pubic bone. Still concentrating on the detail of the plate, she pulled a chair in front of the mirror and sat down, cursing under her breath at the pinch.

  The pinch was always followed by an unsatisfied sense of
anticipation. Sometimes when she masturbated she pinched herself down there until it almost hurt. And when she was right on the threshold between pain and something much nicer, she often had her best orgasms. Perhaps if she concentrated on the almost pleasure the pinch could provide, she’d forget about how trapped it made her feel. She opened her legs wide, and in spite of the tightness at her waist and the chafing at the tops of her thighs, she had to admire the workmanship.

  She ran a hand down over the openings for her urethra and anus. She had heard somewhere, or maybe read in some nasty piece of porn on a rainy day when there was nothing better to do but curl up with her Rabbit, that some chastity belts could have butt plugs and dildos attached to them. With a sudden rush of pleasure, she imagined what it would be like if Edward were the one in control of what attachments should fill her holes. She imagined his hand pressed against her pubis like the metal plate. She imagined his fingers, or maybe even his teeth pinching her, like the plate against her vulva pinched.

  Her focus, which had until now been only on the intricacies of the chastity belt, took in the entirety of her body. Her legs were splayed at either edge of the chair. Her waist looked slimmer, longer and porcelain-delicate beneath unforgiving black leather and polished metal. Above it all her full breasts seemed even fuller, crowned urgently with heavy, aching nipples that made them look like decadent twin desserts waiting to be devoured.

  And the one man she wanted desperately to enjoy them was off-limits. A flash of guilt tightened her chest. She had put herself through all this for him, and now she would betray him. But if she mattered so much, then why didn’t he just tell Vivienne, with all her Mount rules, to go fuck herself.

  Granted, she wasn’t nearly as pretty as Vivienne. But she knew things, things Vivienne didn’t. She cupped her breasts and stroked her nipples with her thumbs, then very carefully began to rock against the chair.

  At first the pinch was shocking, making her wince and gasp. But after a little practice, she learned to rock just enough to keep the pinch stimulating without being agonizing. She did that by letting her arse cheeks do most of the moving while she squeezed from the inside, tightening those exquisite muscles designed to grasp an erect penis in that amazing internal massage that caused such pleasure.

  With careful focus, she managed just enough rocking so that the pinch stimulated her vulva. With the tensing and relaxing of her girlie muscles, she imagined Edward unlocking her and filling her with his distended cock. Tense and relax, tense and relax. Edward riding her so hard. Tense and relax. And her ripping the golden mask away, tense and relax, just in time to see his face when he came. The view in the mirror drifted out of focus, the edges burnished by the afternoon sun and the encroaching tremors of imminent orgasm. At last, in a yelp of pleasure and pain, she came, trembling and convulsing against the metal plates covering her pussy, slickening them with her juices.

  Vivienne didn’t know everything. If she did, she would have known a chastity belt, even one with triple metal plating, couldn’t keep Rita from coming. She was an expert at stealth orgasms. She’d been having them since she was ten, under the watchful eyes of unwitting adults, in restaurants, in classrooms, on buses. No one ever suspected just how well she’d mastered the use of her secret girlie muscles. She smiled at her flushed face shining in the mirror, then crawled into bed and slept.

  ‘So what’s up with you and Edward?’ Kate called from the kitchen.

  Rita pretended she hadn’t heard the question.

  ‘Lots of rumpy pumpy, I’m guessing.’

  Her voice was closer this time, and Rita looked up to find her friend standing over her with two cups of coffee. ‘Well?’

  Rita returned her attention to her laptop, feigning non-interest. ‘I get a text occasionally.’

  ‘Come on, Ree. I don’t believe you for a second. You’re walking around like you’ve been riding a big one all night. You only walk like that for one reason, and it’s a good one.’

  Actually there were two reasons, Rita thought, and the second wasn’t so good. Almost as a reminder, the metal plate pinched her sharply on the fanny, and she gritted her teeth. Just then her phone signalled a text, and Kate, who was deliciously free of the constraints of a chastity belt, grabbed it before Rita could.

  ‘Mmmm, yummy. Very sexy.’

  ‘Give me that.’ Enduring another hard pinch, Rita grabbed the phone away and read.

  Less than 3 daz & I cn hardly bear it. I no how uncomfortable u must b. M damned uncomfortable myself evry time I think of u. Evry 2nd is agony. Hope u r not 2 sore. Promise I’ll make it worth every ache. EXX

  Rita could feel the blush crawling up her cheek and the muscles tensing deep in her cunt. But damn, his timing couldn’t be worse.

  Her friend tapped her foot on the carpeted floor and glared at her. ‘So why have you been holding out on me? Do I ever keep my love life from you? Granted there isn’t much to tell, but when there is, don’t I tell all?’

  Rita tried to heave a sigh, but as with most efforts to breathe these days, it was rather unsatisfying. ‘Look, Kate, I would share all if I could, but Edward’s a very secretive person, and I’d feel like I was betraying his trust if I told. Surely you can understand.’

  ‘Married, is he?’

  ‘No! No he’s not married.’ At least she hoped he wasn’t, but she really didn’t know, did she? ‘He just feels like what goes on between two people should stay between two people.’

  ‘You sure he’s not married?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure,’ she lied. The more she thought of the goings-on between him and Vivienne, the more the doubt niggled her.

  When Kate went back to the kitchen for biscuits, she quickly texted.

  R U married 2 Vivienne?

  The reply came back almost instantly.

  God no! Y wuld U thnk that?

  U 2 cm close.

  Bleev me, we r not.

  Sorry. Evrythng so strange.

  No need 2 dout me, Darling. I promise.

  Perhaps there wasn’t. But she was the one wearing the chastity belt, and Edward was the one wearing the mask.

  Kate returned with biscuits and settled in her traditional position cross-legged on the sofa. She stuffed a Jaffa Cake in her mouth and spoke around it. ‘Since you won’t tell me anything, I’ve been doing my own research on The Mount, and you’d be amazed at what I’ve found.’

  Rita burned her tongue on her coffee. ‘Oh? Like what?’

  Just then Rita’s mobile rang and both women nearly jumped off their seats. Rita hoped it would be Edward, but it was her boss. Why the hell was he calling on a Saturday afternoon?

  ‘Rita, darling, you’re an angel,’ came Owen’s breathless voice on the phone. ‘I don’t know how you did it, and even a limo to take us there. I have to say, I had my doubts, but you came through for me. You really did.’

  ‘Owen?’

  The man was on a roll. ‘When you said you could get reservations at The Mount, I should have believed you, though how you did it so quickly’s beyond me, and for the two of us.’ He chuckled suggestively.

  ‘I’m just calling to double check. The limo will pick you up first, then me at eight. Is that right? Ressies for eight thirty, drinks and dinner, maybe a little tripping the light fantastic?’

  Rita suddenly felt nauseated. Was this a part of her initiation? Did Vivienne know her plan to write an exposé? Who else could have pulled this off? It didn’t matter who had done it, she had no choice. She hung up and made her excuses to Kate. She’d have to pick her friend’s brain for new information concerning The Mount some other time.

  Chapter Six

  ‘She looks good in that colour, don’t you think? Rose makes her skin look like she’s had a little sun.’ Vivienne chuckled wickedly. ‘And oh, the cleavage. I can see why she’s so willing to display it, and he’s certainly more than willing to look.

  ‘They look good together, don’t they? Her boss is positively edible. He is her boss, you know? Lorelei hear
d him mention expensing the evening.’ She and Edward stood on the shadowy rise of the wrought-iron catwalk, nearly invisible to everyone below, but interested only in their initiate and her date.

  When Edward made no response, Vivienne added. ‘Journalists? Talkabout magazine?’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So? Why do you think a budding journalist would bring her boss here? She smells an exposé, surely you can see that, Edward?’

  ‘If she wanted an exposé, her boss would be the last person she’d bring here, besides, Rita wouldn’t do that.’ Edward tugged uncomfortably on the front of his jacket feeling a strange mix of desire and jealousy at seeing Rita here in his domain with someone he hadn’t approved. And the dress, my God, all he could think about was ripping it off of her and devouring her inch by inch, a thought he couldn’t afford to be having. ‘What I’m wondering is how she managed reservations in the first place.’

  Vivienne brushed an invisible speck from his cuff and smoothed his hair, which didn’t need smoothing. ‘She’s a journalist. And if she’s a good one, she’ll find a way. I’m sure Aurora would find her a table if it would get her pussy licked again. You know what a slut Rory is, and our dear Rita certainly gives Alex quite a hard-on.’

  ‘Neither of them could get her reservations even if they wanted to, Vivienne. You know that.’

  The woman shrugged as though the whole situation bored her and looked out over the restaurant below. ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way, and getting the story of a lifetime is definitely high motivation for a starving journalist, wouldn’t you say?’