by Roger Quine
But it was still only the briefest touch; it could easily be explained away as an accident, and she knew she needed more before the editor would be happy and she could say she’d done a good job. So she did as she was told, saying, ‘Paradise will be mine,’ as she stayed there, forearms on the shiny wood, legs apart; waiting.
But not for long.
She felt the flat of a hand between her shoulders, pressing her further forward and down, lifting her bottom, two firm spheres split by the narrow black band of her briefs. Then she had a flash of déjà vu and suddenly she knew what was coming next, and even though she was ready it was still a shock.
There was a thin whistling sound and a biting line of pain across her buttocks, and she squealed. The belt! He was using that belt with the phallic snake buckle!
‘Penance is perfect, Caroline. Say that aloud while I purge you.’
She gasped the words out as the whistling sound warned her just too late to brace her muscles for the stinging crack as the belt landed across her bottom again in a burst of fire.
‘Paradise will be mine, Caroline, say that aloud.’ His voice was hard-edged, and this time the belt whipped lightly across one firm buttock, the tip curling around and under her, licking painfully across the thin silk covering the tender flesh of a pussy that was open and ready for a completely different touch.
She squealed instead of repeating his phrase, and immediately the belt was back, harder and faster, the tip stinging her tenderest flesh.
‘Say it!’ he ordered harshly. ‘Say, “Paradise will be mine.”‘ As she tried to form the words he lashed out once again and made her screech with pain. ‘Say it, Caroline,’ he commanded, and prevented her from obeying by whipping her once again so she could not have spoken if she’d tried, the belt snaking around her glowing buttocks.
‘Say it, Caroline!’ Whip!
‘Say you have faith!’ Whip!
‘Say you believe!’ Whip!
‘I believe!’ she wailed... and the beating stopped.
She waited, afraid to turn, afraid to look in case she saw his arm raised again, but there was just his voice, distant and softer, a man exhausted by passion and effort.
‘Thank you, Caroline,’ he said, through ragged breaths.
She felt his hands at her waist, but instead of raising her from where she lay face down across the table, they grasped the waistband of her knickers and tugged them down over her bottom, as far down her widespread thighs as they would go. When she felt the tickle of soft material on the backs of her legs she knew how close he was, standing between her knees. And as he placed a hand flat on the small of her back and pressed down, she knew what he was doing, but she still gasped in surprise when something warm and turgid pressed against her, nestling between lips that were slick with arousal.
‘Paradise will be mine,’ he said in a pensive tone, and pushed all the way into her with one smooth movement that seemed to go on forever, filling her completely with an enormously long and thick erection.
‘Oh, God...’ she groaned, her back arching in unison with the penetration, her breasts lifting off the polished surface.
‘Yes,’ he grunted, ‘that’s right, Caroline. Say, “Paradise will be mine,” and God will answer you.’ He slid the enormous thing out of her again, leaving her empty, wanting, hips pushing in little circles as they searched for it. Gasping noises rasped in her throat.
‘Say it, Caroline.’ He rested the bulbous tip against her, teasing her with it, circling and pushing just enough to make her want the rest.
‘Paradise will be mine,’ she moaned quickly and gasped as he pushed it firmly forward to fill her completely once more, groin pressed hard against her punished buttocks.
‘Praise the Lord!’ he cried, and began to slide in and out, hard and fast.
All she could think about was the sensation between her legs as the pleasure of his movements blended with the burning heat across her rump to make one long wave of ecstasy that coursed through her.
His hips flexed and the great shaft was buried to the hilt with a wet slap. ‘Paradise,’ he said as he thrust again, ‘is mine!’
‘Oh...’ she managed, and then she came, an earthmoving climax that made her tremble from head to toe.
‘Yes!’ he roared triumphantly, and thrust yet again. ‘Yes!’ he yelled as she bucked and twisted, impaled on the rigid shaft as she came and came.
As she eventually flopped forward the movement inside her slowed, and stopped, and then eased gently from her.
‘Oh, my God...’ she moaned feebly, and lay inert across the table.
‘Yes, Caroline, thank God that paradise is yours.’ He pushed into her again, slowly and gently, opening and filling her with his impressive length and girth, making her moan softly. Then he pulled backwards, more slowly still. As the long thickness slithered between the clutching pink lips she felt it begin to quiver, and when only the bulbous end of it was in her, resting between lips that were slippery with her juices, he shouted out one final time, ‘Paradise is mine...!’
He came, his shaft jerking as the spasms sent pulsing jets of creamy fluid splashing against her, sparkling like pearls over the red weals that marked her buttocks, glistening brightly between the soft folds where her swollen pussy still waited for the shaft upon which it had been impaled. And when it was over and there was no more left, he pressed back inside her and fell limply across her back.
Chapter Three
‘Where is she then?’ Susie was sitting in the kitchen at home, drinking tea, and her mum was crying. She’d hardly ever cried during Susie’s lifetime, so Susie knew how seriously wrong the situation was.
Sophie had vanished from home almost three weeks before and not a word had been heard from her since. The note she’d left behind was brief and unhelpful: Mum, it said, I’ve left home. Don’t know how long I’ll be away. It was signed with the large curving S that was Sophie’s signature.
That note, intended to give comfort to her mother, had done nothing of the sort. It didn’t say why, where or who with, but it did give the police a reason to do nothing at all. They said, quite properly, that twenty-year-old girls are allowed to do what they like and a great many of them do just that. ‘There’s nothing anyone can do,’ the sergeant had explained, ‘except wait, and hope she’ll come back.’
But Sophie had vanished and, thanks to the note, she wasn’t even on the missing person’s list.
‘I thought she’d come to you,’ sobbed her mother, but Susie had heard nothing. No phone calls, no letters, no visit. Susie was as surprised as her mother that this was so; though the two girls were not truthfully sisters, Sophie being her father’s daughter and Susie her mother’s, they’d been brought together while Susie was still only three years old and Sophie hardly a year, so there was little or no difference in their minds. The fact that they looked so similar, with that rare combination of powder-blue eyes and Scandinavian blonde hair, only served to cement the instant bond between them. They’d been best friends at once and had remained close all through the trials of childhood and adolescence. They’d shared everything as they grew, maybe closer to each other than real sisters would have been because they weren’t actually related.
As they grew older the two-year age difference meant they were less able to share things, and though Sophie looked up to Susie and Susie looked after her sister, they matured separately.
But they were still close, and had remained so after Susie left home, meeting in clubs and pubs very often while Susie was at college and Sophie still at school, speaking endlessly on the telephone once Susie had moved away, and writing to each other rather less frequently. Susie couldn’t believe Sophie could have been unhappy without telling her, nor that she might have left home so abruptly without saying goodbye, never mind saying why or where. But Sophie’s disappearance was absolute, and there was no
apparent reason why she should have gone.
‘She’d been so happy just lately,’ said her mother, ‘with her new boyfriend, Hugh. Seemed a decent sort of chap. Very good parents, I believe,’ she sniffed, stifling Susie’s next and most obvious questions, although Susie was better aware than most that so-called ‘good parents’ didn’t disqualify people from villainy. Quite the reverse, in fact. She made a mental note to find this Hugh and see what she made of him.
In the three weeks since she’d vanished Sophie might have gone anywhere, and should really have called. But Susie had been away, so perhaps Sophie had tried to get in touch and failed. The information comforted her mother only slightly.
‘Tell you what,’ Susie said. ‘I’ll ask around for a day or two, then I’ll head back to London and hope there’s a letter at the flat. Or maybe she’ll call.’
‘Okay,’ her mother snuffled into her tissue, and that was settled.
Susie carried her overnight bag up to her old bedroom, an odd nostalgic journey that brought memories crowding back, all the more poignant and real because she hadn’t been in the room since she started college.
She’d been home before, to see her mum, dropping in to say hello on the way through, always to or from somewhere and never with the time to stop for long. She had never been close to her mother like Sophie was, but that was hardly surprising since her mother had never been very keen on what she called Susie’s ‘wayward behaviour’. Which was her mother’s polite euphemism for what she’d seen Susie doing in front of the dressing table mirror when she’d walked into her bedroom unannounced one evening. It was a miracle it hadn’t happened sooner, really.
Now, in the warm stillness of her old bedroom, Susie felt a tremor of excitement as she remembered how in that room she’d discovered the delights her clever fingers could bring, and those very fingers brushed the front of her jeans, feeling the sudden warmth of arousal within.
In the mirror she watched her fingers deftly pop the buttons one by one, exposing the white knickers beneath, admired her own slim hips while her hands peeled the tight jeans down until they were around her thighs and she could see the gentle swell of her mound.
Her knuckles stretched the filmy white material tight as her hand pushed under the waistband and her fingers searched lower, through the short blonde down until they reached the smoothly-shaved flesh below, already heated with arousal. Then she felt the oily juices seeping from her waiting flesh and she curled her fingers, sliding first one, then another, inside.
Susie stood in front of the mirror and watched her hand, circling and flexing as she worked two fingers in and out of herself, and she saw the gentle thrusting of her pelvis as her climax began and she gasped several times, trying to suppress the sound so as not to alert her mother. Her knees buckled and she grabbed the edge of the dressing table with her left hand, but her right didn’t miss a beat until her orgasm had completely subsided and she began to relax in a comforting glow.
Feeling at peace with herself she washed, put on freshly laundered underwear, brushed her hair and decided it was time for action. She ran lightly down the stairs, said a comforting goodbye to her mother, and set off.
She’d decided to do the sensible thing and visit the police station first, though she got no more from them than her mother had. Not even when she produced her press card and her business card. That raised the odd eyebrow, of course; they all recognised the name of the paper and were thereafter a little more helpful and a lot more polite, but no one really seemed to care where Sophie might have disappeared to.
‘You know how it is, miss,’ said the desk sergeant, somewhat patronisingly. ‘She’s legally an adult and she can go anywhere and do anything, and we can’t stop her - or spend time looking for her. You could try the Salvation Army,’ he offered with a shrug, but they both knew there was little chance of finding Sophie unless she wanted to be found.
Rather than go home and share the depressing news with her already miserable mother, Susie called on her mobile and said she was going into town in search of Sophie’s friends. That done, she set off, enjoying the early evening stroll towards town, a genuine trip down memory lane that took her past the youth club where she’d deliberately flirted in front of all those spotty youths who’d drooled over her and craved to be the one to take her virginity.
She was still in nostalgic mood as she entered the bar of the Bridge, seemingly unchanged in all the years she’d known it. She sat in the corner with her white wine and soda, watching as the place filled with familiar faces, including Eric, who so nearly was her first, but came and went before he’d entered, so to speak. And he was obviously remembering that night as well, and was clearly still embarrassed by it, as he gave her a grudging nod of recognition and turned away.
And there - was that Gary whatever-his-name-was, the stuttering one? She had to wait for him to order a drink before she was certain, but when he said, ‘P-p-p...’ and John behind the bar said, ‘Pint of bitter, Gaz?’ pouring it as he asked, she knew it was him. And she knew he was sensible and polite and that he’d know Sophie, because she also knew the younger Gary had lusted after her own body, and hung around endlessly in the vain hope she might let him have it. Which was ridiculous. But even so, he’d been around long enough to become friendly with her sister.
‘Hi, Gary,’ she said, light and friendly as she could, leaning beside him at the bar and offering her glass to the barman. ‘Same again please, John.’
‘He-he-here... l-l-let m-m-m-me.’ He waved some notes at John.
‘Oh, Gary, that’s all right,’ she said quickly, remembering just in time how long and painful a process Gary’s stuttering insistence could be. ‘You don’t have to do that - but thanks.’
‘You look well,’ she said as they sat side by side at her corner table, and to be fair, the years had improved him a little. He looked fit and healthy, taller and fuller, though he still had a pointed face with beady eyes.
‘I’m f-f-f-fine. You?’
‘Oh, you know,’ she said and shrugged. ‘I’m a little worried about Sophie. It seems she’s run away from home...’ and she noticed him shift uncomfortably, a hint of guilt shadowing his face.
‘I-I-I’m sorry to hear th-th-that,’ he managed, avoiding her eyes, looking at the table, and she blazed with certainty that Gary knew something he shouldn’t.
Picking up her glass and trying to look casual she pressed her leg against his under the table. ‘Bottoms up,’ she said, and his eyes widened. She let her leg rest against his for a moment longer and then asked, ‘Have you seen her lately? Mum said she had a boyfriend.’ And she leaned towards him, sliding along the seat so her hip touched his as well.
Gary started slightly and then relaxed, settling into the wooden seat with a look that was almost one of pride, obviously thinking she found him attractive. Without further prompting he told her about Sophie and Hugh, and how they seemed happy together. But she knew he was holding something back, and she asked about where they went, and what they did, and were they all in a gang together?
‘How did Sophie get on with the rest of you, if she was one girl in a crowd of blokes?’ she asked, and as a dark shadow flitted across Gary’s expression she knew she was getting closer. ‘Was there any problem?’ she enquired gently, pressing more firmly against him while looking wide-eyed and innocent.
‘N-n-no,’ he stuttered with difficulty.
‘Sophie wasn’t, you know, messing around with one of the others... you, for example?’ She gave him a knowing smile as she rubbed her thigh against his under the table.
‘N-n-no,’ he blushed. ‘Nothing like th-th-that.’
It was a big effort as usual, every word a struggle, but she knew there was more. ‘Only I know she’s a bit lively,’ she said, trying to hint that she was just one of the lads and so was her sister. ‘In fact, she takes after me,’ she goaded, resting her h
and deliberately on Gary’s thigh. ‘She likes to live dangerously. And she likes to be fulfilled, if you know what I mean.’
Susie had no idea if any of this was true of her sister in the last few months, but it seemed to encourage Gary.
‘Oh, sh-sh-sh-she liked to be f-f-f-f-filled,’ he said, and looked guiltily at Susie, as if trying to gauge her reaction. She knew he’d meant to use a different word there. But she also sensed his nervousness and realised this was not the right moment to press him too hard for information. One more question and he might shut up forever. Instead, she opted for encouragement.
‘Don’t we all,’ she purred, sliding her fingertips higher towards his groin and deeper between his legs until she was almost touching him - there.
‘Y-y-yes,’ he gulped. ‘I s-s-suppose we do.’
‘Come on then, Gary,’ she purred. ‘Why don’t you walk me home?’
He fairly leaped out of his seat at the suggestion and when she tucked her arm in his he visibly swelled with pride. Outside in the street she snuggled against him as they walked, and when she steered him so they turned left at the end of the road, away from her home and towards the bus shelter, his stuttering reached fever pitch.
‘Did you ever walk Sophie home this way?’ she asked sweetly.
‘N-n-no. She w-w-was - ’
‘Hugh’s girlfriend,’ Susie interrupted, the temptation to finish sentences for him overwhelming, though she knew she shouldn’t. ‘Yes, I know she was.’ As they reached the darkened entrance she steered him gently inside the bus shelter, luckily empty, and lifted her face to kiss him gently.
‘Did you ever kiss Sophie like that?’ she asked quietly when their lips parted.
‘N-n-n-no,’ he said.