Susie Follows Orders

by Roger Quine

  ‘I don’t understand what you mean,’ she said, truly puzzled.

  ‘Well, we were expecting dog-collars and whips, really.’

  ‘He used his belt, actually,’ she said.

  ‘Hmmm. Did he though? In that case, tell me about this...’ He pressed a button on the remote control. The screen fizzed into life and there was Hugh, trousers and pants bunched round his knees, looking like a complete prat as his fist whizzed up and down the length of an impressive erection.

  The editor stopped the tape and gave her an enquiring look. ‘Well?’ he asked patiently.

  ‘It - it’s not my tape,’ she blustered. ‘Not the one I sent you at all.’

  He looked stern. ‘I think it is,’ he said carefully.

  ‘No, it can’t be. The vicar wasn’t like that at all, and he was whipping me with his belt.’ She blushed guiltily and nodded at the television. ‘I’m not even in that one.’

  ‘I think you are. Watch this. And listen.’

  He pressed the remote and the picture reappeared. After a second or so, Hugh slowed and stopped and looked directly at the camera, staring across the room as if he could see Susie standing there beside the editor’s desk, watching him. And listening, as he spoke. ‘You’d do anything, wouldn’t you?’ he asked in a tinny tone.

  ‘Probably,’ said a sultry female voice, much closer to the camera, louder and clearer than his, and there was a moan of pleasure. The female voice, the voice that was unmistakably Susie’s, said, ‘Come on, Hugh, don’t stop now.’

  There was silence after the editor stopped the tape, silence in which Susie wondered what they would think if they realised the fear gripping her insides right now had made her almost as wet as she’d been when the tape was made. Then the editor’s voice interrupted her brief daydream.

  ‘We don’t pay for sophisticated surveillance cameras just so you can use them to make your home movies,’ he said acidly, his aggressive tone inducing a fresh flood of warmth in her panties.

  ‘It’s not my home movie,’ she began to protest, but he cut her off.

  ‘Well, it bloody isn’t mine,’ he snapped, ‘even though it was made with my camera. And that is your voice we all heard, isn’t it?’ He waited, forcing her to answer.

  ‘Yes, it is, but - ’

  ‘And I assume the bloke in the picture is not the spanking vicar of Kingscombe?’

  ‘Er, not exactly, no.’

  ‘So kindly tell me what exactly that is, if it’s not some grubby piece of smut you use for purposes of your own.’

  The implication that she might get her kicks watching home-made videos of men masturbating deepened the flush to her cheeks.

  ‘Get out of here,’ the editor snarled, ‘and get me my tape, with my pictures on it, and make it quick. I want this bloke-’ he waved the typed pages of Susie’s vicar story ‘-on the front page this Sunday.’

  Trembling with angst, Susie was too afraid to ask for the tape in case they thought she really did want it for her own perverted purposes. Instead she just nodded mutely and hurried out of the room.

  A little way along the corridor her rapid pace slackened, and she missed a step, before turning and walking back to the doorway she had just passed. The ladies’ washroom on the executive floor was a palace of luxury, all soft lights, deep pile carpets and pot pourri; a perfect place to ease away the tensions of the working day.

  But right now Susie had some different tensions that needed to be eased, and there was only one way to do it.

  She locked the door carefully, wondering exactly what Gary and the rest of Hugh’s friends had thought of the tape she had insisted they all watch together. She hitched up her skirt, remembering what had been on that tape: herself, bent over the table while the vicar whipped her and then took her from behind. She cupped herself, hot and wet, thinking maybe they hadn’t recognised her.

  She pulled her knickers aside, knowing they had. She pushed two fingers in deep, knowing they’d been sat around the television with straining erections in their trousers while they gawped at her being well and truly fucked...

  Back at her desk ten minutes later, a lot happier and a little bit more relaxed, she picked up the phone and dialled Gary’s number. He sounded pleased to hear from her, but surprised.

  She’d rehearsed the next bit a hundred times, but now the telephone was shaking in her hand, the well-planned words fluttering out of her mind as the butterflies fluttered in her tummy.

  ‘About that tape...’ she blurted, subtle as a falling brick.

  ‘Amazing. Absolutely a-a-a-amazing. We had n-n-n-no idea that you, um... W-w-w-we all thought you worked for a newspaper.’

  Not only had they watched it, en masse, just like she’d imagined earlier, but now they thought she made porno films for a living! ‘You watched it then?’ was all she could say.

  ‘W-well of course. I d-d-did what you s-s-said; I got everyone together at my p-place and then we played th-th-th... it. We all liked it. Thought it was g-g-great,’ he said brightly. ‘But I did w-wonder why you made me show everyone like that.’

  ‘I just wanted you and everyone - and Hugh - to know that Sophie’s not alone,’ she said, lying swiftly and brilliantly. That hadn’t been pre-planned, but it was good. ‘Now,’ she carried on as brightly as she could, ‘when can I have it back?’

  There was a long pause. Long enough for her to know that whatever Gary said next she wasn’t going to like.

  ‘H-H-H-Hugh’s got it.’

  ‘Oh no,’ she groaned. ‘Why did you let him have it?’

  ‘Well, he sort of in-in-in-sisted, and n-now he says... n-n-now he’s got b-b-both of you.’

  ‘The bastard,’ she cursed under her breath as she slowly put the receiver down. Now she understood exactly how Sophie must have felt when she found out Hugh had filmed her, and then showed it to everyone he - and she - knew. Susie was almost ready to join a religious cult and disappear from view herself. And now she knew the real reason Hugh had been ringing her mother, and had even called round.

  She paced up and down for five minutes, telling herself she was only putting off the inevitable, and agreeing wholeheartedly.

  She paced for another five minutes, glancing occasionally at the telephone and telling herself she wouldn’t grovel. Not to him.

  She stood in front of the telephone for a minute or two, telling herself she was not going to bargain with the snake... no way.

  Hand on the phone, she tried to think of all the ways to ask for what she wanted without making it obvious how badly she had to have it back, and came up with a blank.

  Eventually she faced the facts. Without the tape she would lose her job. Therefore she’d just have to grovel to Hugh and hope he’d give it back, though she knew he would want far more than a few moments of polite begging before he’d return it.

  Taking a deep breath, she picked up the phone and rang Hugh’s number.

  ‘Nice tape,’ he crowed as soon as he heard her voice. ‘I see exactly what you meant about being better at this sort of thing than your sister.’

  ‘Yes, very funny, Hugh,’ she said, trying the businesslike approach. ‘Now, I need it back please. When can I pick it up?’

  ‘I thought you would.’ She could hear the triumphant sneer in his voice. ‘And you can have it any time. Now, if you like.’

  ‘Great.’ Somewhat foolishly she felt greatly relieved. ‘I’ll come over straight away.’

  ‘I’ll be wanting something in return, naturally,’ he said slimily

  Her spirits plummeted again. ‘Why? It’s my tape.’

  ‘But you gave it away.’

  ‘I lent it to someone - ’

  ‘And he gave it to me.’

  She could just see the smarmy smile on his smart-arse face. ‘So now you can give it back,’ sh
e said with little hope of a favourable response.

  ‘Of course I will. But I’m sure you’ll want to give me something in return.’

  ‘Oh yes, and what might that be?’ she asked unnecessarily, her heart sinking further.

  ‘I’ll tell you when you get here,’ he said, and the line went dead.

  Thanks to the traffic leaving London at that time of the evening it was about three hours before she pulled up outside Hugh’s flat, and on the way she’d had plenty of time to think of a multitude of things he might demand in return for the tape. All of them involved doing things with Hugh she would rather not think about, never mind do. However, ultimately there wasn’t one of them she wouldn’t do if it meant getting back her tape. She told herself her lack of reluctance in arriving at this decision was not affected by the memory of Hugh’s erection.

  ‘I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,’ he said, holding the front door open for her.

  ‘Where’s the tape?’ she asked without preamble as she stepped into the hallway.

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ he said slyly.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like there’s a price to pay.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Come inside and I’ll tell you.’

  He led the way into the lounge, and there was Liz, relaxing on the sofa in jeans and T-shirt.

  ‘What’s she doing here?’ Susie demanded, an answer she didn’t like already forming in the back of her mind. Knowing Hugh as well as she did, there was little doubt she was right.

  ‘She’s the price,’ said Hugh proudly. And Liz licked her lips suggestively at Susie.

  ‘No way,’ Susie refused adamantly, shaking her head.

  ‘A little while ago I promised her Sophie,’ Hugh went on regardless, ‘but Sophie ran away. So now she can have you instead.’

  ‘And suppose I don’t want her to “have me instead”?’ Susie snapped angrily.

  ‘Well, the way I see it, you really don’t have the choice. Not if you want your tape back. And you do want it back, don’t you?’

  Of course she did, and Susie knew she had no choice but to do whatever the odious creep demanded.

  ‘You know it makes sense,’ he leered triumphantly, her body-language transmitting defeat. ‘Now, take your clothes off.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘You heard.’

  Susie silently cursed herself for rushing into the slimeball’s trap, even though she knew she’d had little choice, as she reluctantly lifted her hands to the buttons of her smart blue suit jacket. Now the only sounds in the still room were the sexy whisperings of material brushing material, and Liz watched hungrily as Susie slowly took the jacket off and laid it on the nearest chair. She unbuttoned her blouse and took that off too, wishing her nipples weren’t so noticeable through her pale bra.

  Liz swallowed with anticipation as Susie unzipped her skirt and lowered it, the stockings making her slim legs seem even longer than they really were. She paused, but there was no point; if she hadn’t thought of a way to get out of this situation during her journey, she wasn’t going to think of one now. Best get on with it, she told herself, and stepped out of her skirt and laid it aside too.

  ‘Very nice,’ Hugh smirked. ‘Very nice indeed.’ His gaze, previously fixed on her barely concealed breasts, had shifted, and he was staring pointedly at her groin. She couldn’t look down. But she wanted to. She could remember only too well what she’d looked like in the mirror that morning, the sleek knickers clinging softly to every curve, riding easily up into her cleft and accentuating her swelling lips. What she didn’t know was what those knickers looked like with a warm moisture seeping into the silk, darkening the material between her legs and making it cling more closely still to the flowering lips beneath.

  Still gazing between her legs, Hugh reached out and cupped one silk-sheathed breast in a clammy hand. ‘Lovely and firm,’ he gloated. ‘Very nice.’ Unexpectedly, his fingers pinched hard at the nipple and made her flinch away.

  ‘Stop that!’ she squealed.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said, pinching the other one and making her squeal again. ‘Not if you want your tape back.’ Suddenly Susie was scared. She’d been nervous before, but her fears had been concerned with the number and variety of ways Hugh was going to humiliate her before he inevitably took her, and then gave back the tape. None of those fears had involved pain or suffering and suddenly, with those two little pinches, he’d opened up a disconcerting range of possibilities.

  ‘Take it off.’ It was Liz interrupting her thoughts, her throaty voice vibrating with tension.

  ‘The bra - take it off now.’ Hugh repeated the command in a sharp but condescending tone, as if speaking to an idiot. With a feeling of despair Susie peeled it off, revealing her gravity-defiant breasts with their ruby tips. ‘Better than I remember,’ he said with an oily leer, and cupped them both in his hands, sweaty palms pressed against nipples which were, she realised with distress, painfully erect. ‘Oh, yes! Even nicer to touch than they look. And what about this?’ A hand dropped below her waist and brushed down the front of her knickers, fingers searching between her legs as she stepped away from him.

  ‘Hugh...’ she said weakly. ‘Please don’t.’

  ‘Or what?’ he sneered. ‘Or you’ll let me keep the tape?’

  Still she protested, even though she knew there was no point and it was only putting off the inevitable. Gradually her voice tailed off and she was silent again.

  ‘Come here,’ he said, and unwillingly she stepped forward. ‘Closer.’

  She stood almost up against him, nipples almost brushing the front of his shirt.

  ‘Good. That’s better. Now move your feet apart,’ he commanded, and again she did as she was told.

  ‘That’s nice. Now let me see, where was I?’ His hand moved between her legs again, palm cupped over her pubic bone and fingers pressing up into the softness, warm and embarrassingly moist.

  ‘Off,’ he said, and though she knew what he meant she still made him repeat it. ‘Your knickers - get them off.’

  She obeyed and stood naked before them.

  He reached down to put his hand back between her legs, and she subconsciously pressed them together. He looked at her meaningfully and she obediently moved her feet an inch or two apart. Hugh sighed. ‘Wider,’ he commanded and, mortified by the knowledge of what he was going to find, she did as she was told.

  Then his hand was between her thighs, probing fingers searching between the smooth curves and folds of hot wet flesh, her sense of violation matched by a growing sense of shame that her traitorously aroused body was responding even more, spreading and seeping welcoming liquid to make it easier for him. Him, of all people.

  ‘Ahhh, beautiful...’ he sighed. ‘A perfect plaything. All we need now is a playmate.’ He released Susie and turned to Liz. Her eyes were fixed on Susie. She licked her lips again and stood up, still staring at the object of her lust, and took three steps that brought her close up against Susie’s naked body. Her eyes moved, roaming all over Susie as if trying to decide which bit to have first. Then she pressed her hands over Susie’s nipples. With knowing fingers they teased, pinching and pulling.

  As the warm feelings radiated down from each nipple to concentrate in the pool of liquid fire between her thighs, Susie’s eyelids lowered, her mouth opened a little and her wicked tongue appeared between the two rows of even white teeth.

  Without warning a darting hand was between her legs, slim fingers brushing against the soft skin, parting the slippery folds, wet and ready after Hugh’s clumsy roughness.

  This was different. This wasn’t Hugh, and the fingers inside her now were surprisingly gentle, sure, and sensitive.

  ‘Oh, perfect, perfect,’ Liz crooned as her fingers stirred Susie’s body. S
usie felt her hips begin to rotate in the erotic gyration they did of their own accord when she wanted more.

  And Liz knew what Susie wanted without the need to be told. ‘Oh, yes,’ she whispered. ‘You’re so good you make me want your delicious sister even more.’

  Susie knew she was being cruelly goaded and should be angry, but the mention of Sophie, even in that context, wasn’t enough to distract her from indulging in the pure sensuality of the moment.

  ‘Still deliciously innocent territory, you see,’ explained Liz, clearly relishing the pleasure of talking about doing to Sophie what she was already doing to her older sister. ‘Despite what she did for that magazine. You’re not, I can tell, but your sister still is.’ Her knowing touch dragged a small moan of delight from Susie. ‘Men don’t count, do they? They’re all right, but they don’t know how to do this properly, do they?’

  Susie closed her eyes and couldn’t help shaking her head in agreement.

  Then, cruelly, Liz stopped and the hand drew away.

  Susie’s hips still circled surreptitiously, her breath was ragged and her fingers dug into Liz’s shoulders, pressing her aching nipples against the soft swellings inside Liz’s T-shirt.

  ‘You see?’ Liz’s fingers acquiesced and began again. ‘What do men know? They can’t even use their own equipment properly, never mind please a girl’s.’

  And she stepped away, holding Susie’s dreamy gaze with her own, pulling her T-shirt over her head, revealing small but perfectly shaped breasts. There was a tattoo on the underside of her left breast - an eagle in flight.

  She unbuckled her belt, unzipped her jeans, pushed them down and stepped out of them, revealing firm legs, black G-string knickers and another tattoo; a snake’s head rearing up over the waistband of her panties, fangs bared, poised to strike.

  ‘Sit down,’ she ordered, leading Susie to the sofa she remembered so well from her previous visit; the night she’d planned to get her revenge on Hugh and it had subsequently all gone wrong.

  He was holding something out to Liz. She took it from him and turned to Susie. In her hand was a thick black erect penis, artificial but perfect in every detail.