Grace moved to
his side and crudely pulled on the string attached to the Ben Wa
balls, and they left Julia's wet sex with a sucking sound. The anal
plug was also removed, but before she had time to appreciate the
relief, a blindfold was slipped over her eyes and firmly tied,
tangling with her hair and plunging her into darkness. She was
guided across the stone flags, hearing the clump of heavy boots,
the whispered comments. Hands were all over her, dipping between
her thighs, fingering her clit and then her nipples. Someone was
hauling her along by the leash. The collar tightened round her
throat and she was forced to move faster.
Her knees
encountered the edge of the couch and she was pushed down onto it,
disoriented by sightlessness, though her remaining senses had
become super-sharp. Her chained hands were free momentarily, and
then the cuffs were fastened to ringbolts, as she lay there
spread-eagled.
Someone lifted
a leg over her head, straddling her face so that a penis dangled
close to her face. She could feel its warmth and smell its potent
scent as he trailed the tip over her forehead, lips and nose,
leaving a wet smear in its wake. It was an alien smell - one of
Gabor's hellions, not the man himself. She was certain she would
have recognised his personal odour anywhere. He moved off and
another cock nuzzled insistently against her lips. She opened them,
taking it into her mouth. Two others stood on either side of her
and thrust their pricks into her hands. All three plunged and
pumped, and they came almost simultaneously, Julia bearing the
brunt of their eruptions, almost gagging as she swallowed that
which filled her mouth. The three men left her abruptly, their
place taken by one person only.
Fingers were
opening her, probing vagina and anus and rubbing her clit. The
tingle started in the depths of her womb. She was coming, rising,
soaring, not caring who or even what was giving her such bliss.
Blindness added to the euphoria; her senses centred on the fulcrum
of her pleasure. She climaxed, screaming. A man spread her thighs,
shoved a hand under the small of her back and lifted her to him,
then thrust into her, deep and long and strong. She guessed by the
size, shape and the way he did it, that Vincent Gabor possessed
her. It was him! She could tell by the odour of spice that clung to
his hair.
He unbound her
legs and had her lift them so that her feet were on his shoulders.
He withdrew from her, smoothed the tip of his cock up and down
between her rear entrance and her sex, and then his huge helm
dilated her anus with awful force. The plug had done a lot to make
her more receptive, but even so it was chicken feed compared to
this mighty violation.
'V-Vincent,'
she gasped. 'Is that you?' She wanted verbal confirmation that it
wasn't some ex-squaddie spearing her on the end of his rod.
He didn't
answer, but she was pretty sure it was. It was hardly likely that
he'd relinquish his mastery over her and let his troopers plough
either of the furrows he'd already made his own. He decided who had
her and who didn't. As he had already said, if she pleased those
whom he selected, then she pleased him. Obviously his henchmen
weren't in the running. They could take her, but only orally or
through having her masturbate them. He wasn't sharing her with them
totally.
She felt his
hands at the back of her head and the painful tug on her hair as he
whipped away the blindfold. Then she looked up into his glinting
dark eyes. 'Are you happy now that you know it's me, my Julia?' he
whispered, in that fascinating foreign accent that always turned
her knees to water.
'Yes, Mr
Gabor,' she murmured.
'Good, then
you shall roll over and present your bottom to me,' and with the
deftness of a magician, he released her manacles.
His soldiers
were watching the show, cocks in hand, already wanking themselves
to further climaxes. She caught sight of Jason in the shadows and
wondered if he'd keep his side of the bargain and phone Will. Grace
was staring at Vincent as if he was a god to be worshipped, one
hand down the front of her army issue trousers.
Gabor eased
Julia to her knees, her buttocks lifted high, her breasts pressed
into the surface, shoulders too, her head to one side, cheek
encountering the padding. Vincent was kneeling behind her. She felt
his cock pulsing against her anus again. He reached beneath her,
working his fingers past her vulva, wetting them in her juice, and
then withdrawing before she had time to arch against them. He
spread the copious fluid around her forbidden hole, and then
entered it.
The force of
it made her want to scream, but she kept silent, rocking against
him, relaxing her muscles to make it easier for herself. It didn't
hurt so much that way. The butt plugs had helped. Now she was
stretched enough to take all of him. Her stripes were eased, too,
for he was kneeling upright, his hands gripping her hips, holding
her steady as he moved inside her rectum and the fear of his
invasion suddenly subsided. Her resistance gave way to desire.
His arm came
round her and he found her sex, drawing the lubrication up to her
clitoris and squeezing it. She cried out, orgasm rioting through
her. He grunted, pleased with her reaction, then pressed in deeper,
his groin welded to her rear. He rode her fiercely, pinching and
slapping, and these little stings and hurts were pleasurable,
making her melt into him. He was frenzied now, and the sounds he
made were blissful to her ears. She knew he was reaching ecstasy.
She felt the heat of his spunk as it flooded into the condom, and
she trembled as if she had just had another orgasm herself.
She had
expected he might relent, invite her upstairs to cleanse herself
and then treat her well, as he had done in the past. He moved away
from her and she turned over and sat up, looking at him
expectantly.
He must have
seen the entreaty in her eyes, but turned his back on her
deliberately. 'Get her back in the cage, Grace,' he barked
crisply.
Then he strode
out, leaving her staring at his uncaring back through tear-filled
eyes.
Will took the
phone call. It was from someone who wouldn't give his name. 'Julia
Jones is at Hazel House. Take care if you go there. You may put her
in greater danger.' That was all the stranger said before hanging
up.
Will was for
leaping into action, but Arlene advised caution. 'Wait till Theona
returns,' she said. 'We need ammunition to use against him. If all
I hear about him is true, then he's as cunning as a fox. You won't
catch him easily, or rob him of his prey. Julia, in this case.'
'At least we
know where she is.'
'Then why did
someone at Abbey Reach tell you she'd gone abroad? And what did the
caller mean about her being in danger?' Arlene poured them two
stiff whiskeys: this was time for the hard stuff, not caffeine.
'I don't
know,' Will replied, gloomy again. 'I think I'd better drive out
there.'
Julia's
presence seemed to be in every corner of the house. At any moment
Arlene expected to see her come bouncing in, chattering animatedly
about a man, a news lead, clothes, the latest trends. It was all
too quiet without the bubbly girl around.
'I've done
this to her,' she said, on the brink of cracking up. 'I've put her
in danger.'
'Don't blame yourself,' he said. 'If anyone's at fault it's
me. I was only thinking of the story it would make for
Hi Life
.'
'Why don't you
ring Hazel House?' she suggested. 'Just ask to be put through to
her. That's an innocent enough request, surely?'
'You do it,'
he said. 'The number's ex-directory, but Julia gave it to me,' and
he handed her his address book.
She dialled
the sequence and nodded to him. 'It's ringing.' Then a woman
answered, and Arlene adopted a Home Counties drawl, controlling her
Irish lilt. 'Hello,' she started. 'I wonder if I could speak to
Julia Jones, please?'
'She's not
here,' the woman snapped, her voice cold.
'Oh? I
understood she was staying there,' Arlene persisted.
'She's away.
Gone off on a modelling job in the West Indies.'
'Well, can you
give me the name and number of her hotel there? This is really
rather important. A family matter, you see.'
'Can't help
you. Don't ring here again.' And with that the woman slammed down
the receiver.
Will was
already out of his chair and making for the door. 'That's it,' he
said, 'I'm going out there.'
'Will, don't!'
Arlene cried, but there was no stopping him.
'Come on, you,
out of that cage,' Grace commanded, striding into the cellar. Her
army gear had been replaced with a black leather suit, cut like a
man's. 'You're being moved.'
As far as
Julia could judge, two days had passed since she'd been subjected
to the lust of Vincent's men before he re-established possession of
her. She rose stiffly, brushing off wisps of straw that clung to
her dirty clothing. She could see Jason waiting at the foot of the
wooden steps. He'd still been demanding sexual favours for agreeing
to phone Will, and told her he'd done so, but she couldn't be sure
he was telling the truth.
'Am I to be
set free?' she quavered, tears never far away these days.
Grace gave a
harsh bark of laughter. 'You should be so lucky,' she said, making
certain that the chains were firmly attached to Julia's handcuffs.
'No, someone was apprehended in the garden... two men on separate
occasions, as a matter of fact. They were both caught by the
guards, roughed up a bit, and sent on their way. Nosy, they were,
asking about you. Mr Gabor didn't like it, didn't like it at all.
He's a very private person when it comes to his personal life.'
'Where are you
taking me?' Julia cried as she was pushed down the steps. 'You
can't keep me a prisoner forever. This is ridiculous.'
Jason got hold
of the leash and tugged it. She felt as if she was being throttled
by the collar, so she stood still, head bowed.
She wished she
was braver; Arlene would have fought, bit and scratched, kneed
Grace in the crotch and made a bid for freedom, but Julia was still
timid, and her experiences since she'd been in the cellar had
subdued her. She longed to ask for a description of the intruders.
Could it have been Will or Eugene? If so, then Jason must have kept
his promise.
'Mr Gabor has
several hideouts,' Grace informed her. 'No one will find you where
you're being taken.'
'But, why me?'
Julia pleaded, desperately playing for time, trying in vain to put
off the frightening prospect of being removed, far away from her
friends. 'What have I done to hurt you all, apart from know about
Marty Blake's dirty work—?'
Grace slapped
her hard across the face, stunning the poor girl and silencing her
in an instant. 'Shut up!' she snarled. 'You ask too many
questions.'
Julia was
marched to the elevator, whisked up to the ground floor, out
through the deserted kitchens and across the cobbled yard. The
buildings that had once been stables now housed cars. A gleaming
bottle-green Range Rover stood there and Julia was bundled into the
back of it. Grace climbed in beside her and tidied her up, placing
a fleece around her. She tugged a comb through Julia's matted curls
and wiped her tear-streaked face with a cleansing tissue.
'This is for
the benefit of passing cars or curious pedestrians, or even
policemen, heaven forbid!' she said acidly, and changed her leather
jacket for a weatherproof cagoule and tied a scarf around her head.
'They'll think we're a happy family off to the country. I should
have borrowed a spaniel from somewhere to complete the
picture.'
Julia stared,
drinking in the scene. It was wonderful to see the sky again, and
the blessed, blessed daylight. How awful to be a prisoner serving a
life-sentence, she thought; even though she was in such dire
straits, at least there was a possibility of escape, slim though it
may seem. She was hungry for the everyday sight of people, cars,
and the pulsing life all around as Jason drove from Highgate and
headed out to the country.
When they
stopped at a service station she was conducted to a waiting van,
put in the back and blindfolded. Grace stayed with her, though
there were four men and the driver, and Julia recognised them as
some of Vincent's hell raisers, before the scarf was tightened
around her eyes.
It was stuffy
in there, and the vehicle lacked the Range Rover's suspension.
Seated on a slatted bench, Julia couldn't steady herself against
its jolting. She felt hands groping, heard heavy breathing and
inhaled sweat. It wasn't Grace, though she sat to Julia's right.
This was an undeniably masculine odour.
'Can we do
it?' she heard a gruff voice ask. 'Can we touch her?'
'He's given
orders that she's not to be penetrated, but apart from that, yes,
use her,' Grace replied.
Deprived of
tactile contact and sight, Julia stayed still while fingers pushed
her thighs apart and slithered across her shaven pubis. The hair
was sprouting again, forming an itchy stubble which she couldn't
even scratch. She needed the attentions of Jason and his razor, and
welcomed the alien hands that now relieved the irritation. A man
was kneeling between her thighs on the van floor, probing and
investigating. Fingertips felt slippery, moistened by the juice
trickling from her vulva. Her clitoris responded, a traitor when it
came to being offered pleasure unlimited.
More fingers
found her nipples, rolling and pinching them, a hotline of yearning
darting down to her swelling labia and gravid bud. She moaned as
the feeling intensified, resting her head against the back of the
seat. A mouth took the place of the busy fingers, and her unseen
lover was licking her avenue, then fastening his lips on her clit,
sucking it strongly, drawing it from its cowl. Another person
straddled her, squeezing her breasts together to form a channel for
his cock. As she started to peak, awash with intense lust that
insisted on being satisfied, so he rubbed his weapon up and down
between her breasts and then showered her throat and cleavage with
hot, cloying semen.