"Why don't we leave the computers to talk to themselves for a little while. I think we ought to have a look through the box of tricks I ordered," he said slowly.
Angela was trembling as she got to her feet and wheeled him back towards the bed. "Anything you say," she whispered unsteadily. "Anything you say."
Chapter 6
Max Fielding took his phone call from Johnson in reception, watching the glamorous couples moving through to the music room, the restaurant, the bar – and of course the private suites that Deuvar boasted on the first floor.
A casual observer might have thought he had stumbled upon a luxurious country hotel, but small things suggested otherwise to the trained eye. Firstly the girls were all magnificent and all unnaturally deferential to their partners. Against the elegant evening dress a knowing eye might detect the faint outline of the nipple rings of the girls that were pierced. Finally, of course, there was the distinct air of expectation; the atmosphere hummed with a subtle but unmistakable eroticism.
Max's jovial and relaxed state of mind was broken by Johnson's icy tone.
"They can't locate that bloody chap. Vanished. I've had a man down at the hospital all day," he growled.
"He'll turn up."
Johnson snorted. "I damned well hope so. How's it going with that bastard Howard's girl?"
"Wonderfully. You should have come down yourself. You've missed quite a show. Leonora has high hopes for her. The auction will be…"
"I don't want anyone to have high hopes for her," Johnson snapped, stifling the words in Max's mouth. "I want her broken. I want to get my hands on Peter Howard. If he's alive he'll come to get her. I want -"
"Gently, gently," soothed Max. "If he's dead the item in question is lost. Nobody else would realise its significance. And we'll know if anyone tries to use it."
"If they try to use it, it'll be too bloody late. Besides how do we know he was working alone?"
"For God's sake calm down. Haven't we talked about damage limitation? Why don't you come down here and…"
Before Max could finish his sentence Johnson slammed the phone down on him.
Max sighed. From the open doors of the restaurant came the restrained sounds of a string quartet. He brushed the lapels of his dinner jacket and adjusted his cummerbund. Leonora had promised to join him for a drink. He glanced around to see if she had arrived.
Close to the main entrance, two men dressed in immaculately tailored evening suits watched the comings and goings with equal interest. They looked as distinguished and affluent as any of the other guests, though Max knew they were part of the security force that Leonora employed. Each wore a tiny silver button in his lapel, connecting him by radio to the main office. After a few seconds one moved away from the door towards the main stair case. Max glanced at his watch. The shift was changing bang on time.
Upstairs in cell 27 Emily lay on her back staring at the ceiling.
The overhead light in the windowless room was gradually dimming. Emily felt immeasurably tired. Kai had said she would visit to remove the anal stretcher. Emily shivered as the thought crossed her mind. Removal would be bliss, but she suspected that the next day it would be replaced. At present it nestled like an invasive finger between the cheeks of her backside.
The cell was gradually receding into shadows, not that there was much to see. The little room was furnished clinically, in white tiles, with a central bed screwed to the floor, complete with a built in mattress. A single blanket and pillow had been folded on the bed when she had returned from her day downstairs. Other than that, the only objects were a lavatory and hand basin against one wall. The floor was cold unforgiving marble. She blinked, hardly able to keep her eyes open, hoping that Kai would arrive soon…
The sound of a key in the lock!
She looked up, trying to focus sleepy eyes, and then froze in horror. Framed in the doorway was the guard she had seen that morning. His long hair was pulled back into a pony tail, accentuating the hard contours of his face. He had changed from the daytime uniform of blue shirt and charcoal grey trousers into elegant evening clothes which were skilfully tailored to highlight his impressive musculature.
He grinned as he stepped into the cell.
"Kai's coming," Emily hissed in a terrified voice. "She won't be very long."
The guard shrugged. "Doesn't really matter does it? She isn't going to try and stop me."
Emily clutched the thin blanket up over her body, aware of the harness biting into the flesh her between her legs as she instinctively clenched her muscles. Her arms were still linked together at the wrist, connected to the overhead chain. She struggled to pull them apart, knowing that it was useless.
There was nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. The man walked slowly across the room towards her, eyes glittering in the fading light. She glanced around in desperation and without thought leapt off the bed, trying to get away. She dropped to the floor against the wall, crouching like a cornered mouse.
Her tormentor smiled lazily. "Run all you like," he said softly, undoing his jacket. "The fight excites me. I love it when they struggle."
Emily sobbed as he circled the bed. His progress was slow, unstoppable. For a few seconds he stood over her watching her face. She shivered; his eyes flickered with desire. She felt the tension ease in her body as the seconds ticked away. Just as her breathing had slowed, he lunged forward and grabbed hold of her wrists, jerking her to her feet.
She whimpered.
One hand dropped and tugged at her harness. He pulled her closer to him, running his lips against her cheek, pressing hot wet kisses into her flesh. The man licked her throat, then lower, touching his tongue to the metallic rings through her nipples, stroking her belly with long fingers.
In spite of herself, to her horror, Emily felt his touch light a beacon in her belly. The brush of his tongue sent a shard of silvery sparks through her mind. As he tipped her face towards him and pressed his lips to hers she was stunned to realise she was relishing her forced submission. His kisses were tender and exploratory, like a real lover. She moaned as his fingers stroked the delicate skin where the lips of her sex met.
The guard pulled away sharply, his face contorted into a lecherous leer. "Don't tell me you don't want me to touch you. Look at yourself."
Emily blushed and dropped her gaze. Her nipples had swollen and hardened, flushed crimson with need – and her sex – she shivered. She knew she was getting wet but knew that it didn't matter how wet she was – the guard had other plans. He pushed her toward the bed and rolled her over onto her belly, securing her hands to the bed frame. She began to tremble, unable to fight him. Her mind was a mass of contradictions. She didn't want what was going to follow – or did she? Her body was telling her something else, part of her was aching to feel his touch, his lips – she cried out as he ran a finger along her spine.
"Get up on all fours," he said flatly.
If she expected him to be quick and furtive about his plans she was wrong. He moved around her, cupping and touching her breasts, stroking her belly with cool invasive fingers. She closed her eyes.
His clinical appraisal was exciting her beyond all belief and knowing that he was looking, touching, exploring, made her flesh quiver. She had no choice, she had to submit to whatever he had planned and the knowledge excited some dark submissive creature that lurked in her mind.
He turned his attentions to her sex, rubbing a finger into the groove of her lips, sliding beneath the ring, seeking out her pleasure bud. She let out an excited sob as he brushed it, tempered with fear that he would dislodge the ring.
She gave a throaty gasp as he climbed onto the bed behind her, fingers fiddling with the straps that held the dildo in place.
She had expected him to take the harness off but instead she just felt the relief as the stretcher slid out. She sighed as her muscles eased. Behind her the guard grunted softly. She felt him moving closer, his breath on her back and lower still on her buttocks.