Susie Learns the Hard Way Page 14

  He pulled his arm up and back, stroking her skin with its hundreds of tickling ends, and then struck again, across her thigh, and the tendrils spread out just missing the edges of her pussy. Fear and pain combined, producing a fresh flow of warm juice mingling with the melted ice-cube so that a steady dribble ran from her as the whip stung again and again, the ends just teasing her with their gentle closeness until she felt the rising tide of arousal. Then one tendril stung her soft lips and she thought the pain would make her come, and as she tensed for another blow that would have made it happen and given her relief, she heard him rise, leaving her waiting...

  Moaning and gasping she was almost begging for him to give her the climax he’d teased her to so many times. But Yoshimura had other ideas and he released her bonds, helped her stand and rearranged her position. Deftly he tied her hands behind her back, laid himself down on the soft carpet and guided her to kneel astride his narrow chest, pushing her head down and guiding his modest erection into her mouth. She sucked tentatively at the round end without much gusto, and then she heard the faint whispering noise and the traces of the lash swept across her buttocks, the fingertip tendrils dipping between them to produce that excruciating mixture of sharp pain and delicate pleasure on flesh stretched tight by her kneeling position.

  She nuzzled further onto his erection, taking it completely into her mouth until the wiry hair at the base tickled her nose and chin, and then she raised her head until she was holding the very tip between her lips, and Zap! went the lash on her taut bottom, and she gasped aloud and he spurted salty fluid into her throat.

  Susie was quivering with arousal and tension as she knelt over him, and the fact that his nut-brown shaft stayed hard in her mouth told her it wasn’t over yet.

  Yoshimura rolled onto one side and slid out from beneath her, guiding her back into a kneeling position on the carpet, knees apart, bottom raised, her smooth shiny sex, slippery with excitement, pouting and waiting.

  He was holding the thing by the other end now, letting its thick leather handle swing back and forth, bumping gently against her – bumping thigh, buttock, waist and then breast. Then he guided it to her face and ran it over her mouth, gently pushing it between her lips so she could taste the leather, feel the stitching and the raised braiding, and the coarse lumpiness of its blunt end.

  He ran it along her flanks, letting it swing freely as it dangled from his hand. Then it was swinging harder, slapping her taut buttocks, making little smacking noises, faster and faster and harder and harder until it made her flinch and squeal. And then it slowed until it was swaying gently against her again, bumping into the valley between her buttocks, nudging against the softness of her open body, rough and lumpy, smooth and shiny, as it swung and rotated.

  Then it was pressing firmly, spreading her wider, slithering deeper and reaching higher inside, answering the need he’d created and teased her with for so long. And as she felt its knobbly end pressing high up into her she sighed with satisfaction, raising her bottom towards it.

  Resting her face on her roped wrists, Susie revelled in the sensations as the inanimate shaft moved within her, long breaths and soft moans giving away the fact that she was so close to an orgasm. The next thrust would take her over the top... and then he stopped. The thing was still in her, but only just enough to spread her outer lips, keeping her balanced on the edge of an inward thrust that didn’t come, making her quiver with the cruel agony of frustration. With hands tied Susie couldn’t do the most natural thing, which would have been to grab the thing and finish herself. All she could do was beg. ‘Please,’ she whimpered. ‘Please!’

  He moved, and then the scarf that bound her wrists was gone, leaving her hands free. She reached between her legs to grab the leather shaft, wailing her relief and plunging it in and out, climaxing in a tremendous wave of pleasure, sobbing as she came, flopping onto her side, still holding the thing while tugging the scarf from her misty eyes.

  Yoshimura knelt beside her, his walnut-brown body naked except for a white band that tied his grey hair back in a spiky crown.

  ‘Hai!’ he grunted, and bowed his head.

  ‘Hi,’ she said feebly, limbs still weak and trembling, left hand still flexing gently as the last remnants of her orgasm subsided and she stroked herself with the handle of the whip.

  He reached out and gently took control of the thing, pulling it from her, the brown leather stained with her juices, sticky with her fluids in the plaited patterns that wound around it, the hugely knotted end glistening wetly.

  Yoshimura laid it carefully, almost reverently to one side, and as it passed from her view Susie saw that he was still hard, poking aggressively upwards from the thatch of iron-grey hair.

  ‘Hai,’ he said again, and leaned over, taking one nipple in his teeth and the other between finger and thumb.

  ‘Oh,’ sighed Susie, and obligingly parted her thighs as he rolled onto her, allowing him to push into her with one swift jerk of his hips. There was silence in the room again, apart from a rhythmic slapping as his thighs bumped steadily against hers and she settled herself into the carpet, raising her hips to each inward thrust as he bounced rapidly up and down for two or three minutes. Then he looked her straight in the eyes. ‘Hai,’ he snorted, and she felt the wily old fox coming yet again.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Thanks for looking after me so well last night.’ Susie slammed her handbag on her desk.

  ‘I waited for you, girl.’ Harry was a little on the back foot. She’d never seen him defensive before, and now they both knew for certain he had abandoned her at the hotel. When Susie emerged from Yoshimura’s room long after the ten o’clock deadline and found no one waiting for her, the barman told her Harry had finished his first drink and then departed, almost as soon as she went upstairs. The only consolation was that he had no idea how long she’d been with Yoshimura.

  ‘No you didn’t. You cleared off as soon as I got in the lift. You set me up and left me there – again. Anything could have happened to me.’

  ‘And what did, exactly?’ asked Harry archly.

  She had been trying to decide on the answer to that question all the way home and most of the night. Should she tell him or not? It was definitely material for the story and he needed to know – but did he deserve to?

  Finally she accepted that, beyond any doubt, Harry had known what was going to happen once she went upstairs. He knew the agency, he knew their way of working, and they knew him. He’d sent her there to have sex with Yoshimura and he didn’t care what happened to her as long as he got confirmation of the drug’s effects.

  He might even still be trying to put her off working on the paper. If they’d had this conversation last night after she’d left the hotel, after being propositioned at the bar and again while waiting for a cab, he’d probably have succeeded. But this morning was different; she was rested, fresh and confident, and still tingling all the way down to her toes at the memory of what Yoshimura had done to her and how he’d made her feel.

  ‘I don’t suppose he’s been celibate for seventeen years,’ she told him.

  ‘Sorry?’ It was Harry’s turn to sound baffled.

  ‘Oh, never mind. How old is he, d’you think?’

  ‘Who knows? Who cares?’

  ‘Well, let’s just say he’s in pretty good shape for a bloke with grey hair and wrinkles.’

  Harry smirked. ‘As long as you made him happy.’

  She suppressed the urge to tell him it was probably the other way around. ‘Happy? I’m amazed I haven’t killed him.’

  ‘Other way around, more like.’ Harry smiled a secret smile, and confirmed all of Susie’s suspicions. How did he know that? How did he know about keeping Yoshimura happy? How did he know so much about everything. In fact, just what did Harry know?

  ‘You knew what was going to happen, didn’t you?’ Susie accused.

  �
��Course not. How could I?’

  ‘I don’t know how, but you did, you knew. And you just abandoned me.’

  ‘Well, there was always a chance you’d have to go all the way with it. But you knew that well enough, didn’t you?’

  There was no answer to that, but what about the bit before? Something Harry said was troubling her and as she struggled to recall his words he grinned salaciously. ‘Good, was he?’

  ‘Good isn’t the point,’ she snapped, losing the thread of concentration. ‘I thought it was long-lasting you were interested in.’ That was something to do with it, she was sure...

  ‘And was he?’

  ‘You know damn well he was.’ Of course he did! That was it! Harry hadn’t waited – he’d gone. He knew in advance that she wouldn’t be back for ages, and this morning he wasn’t even vaguely interested in how long she’d been upstairs. And since he couldn’t know that from personal experience, by hanging about in the bar for her, he must know it because someone had told him. Either last night or this morning, he’d spoken to someone – the agency or the American. And if he had that sort of relationship with either one of the two, then...

  ‘Keep it up, could he, our Mr Yoshi-face?’

  ‘It never went away.’ Harry knew his name! He was up to something, something that went deeper than the story, or went beyond it. But what? Was he still just trying to scare her off? Well, she’d soon distract him from that idea. ‘Felt like it was made of iron.’

  ‘And he, erm, did he...?’

  ‘Harry, I do think you’re embarrassed.’

  ‘Me? Course not. Don’t be ridiculous. Definitely not, no. No, I’m not.’

  ‘Yes, you are.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, ask me the question, then.’

  Harry loosened his tie a little and opened his collar. ‘Did he...?’

  ‘Did he what?’

  ‘You know.’

  ‘Yes, I think I do. But just to be certain, I want you to ask me.’

  ‘Did he come – more than once?’ he blurted.

  ‘Oh yes, Harry,’ she cooed. ‘He came a dozen times at least.’ Harry wriggled uncomfortably in his seat. ‘There was spunk everywhere,’ she finished coarsely, enjoying his discomfort.

  Harry grimaced.

  ‘You aren’t going to put me off, Harry,’ she told him. ‘I’ll still be here in the office tomorrow morning, and the next day, and the next. I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘Oh yes, you are,’ he retorted vigorously. ‘You’re going back to the agency, like you promised them. If he had the drug, then back you go. There’s no need for any more like last night,’ he added hastily, seeing the look on her face, ‘just go through the induction process, fill in whatever forms there are, and see what else you can find out.’

  ‘Listen Harry, I said you wouldn’t put me off with your little tricks, and you won’t. But I’m not getting a job as a hooker while we wait for them to trust me enough to tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘There’ll be no need for that, girl,’ said Harry, but he had that look in his eyes again.

  ‘Okay,’ she challenged. ‘Let’s start writing the story. And stop calling me that.’

  ‘We can’t write it,’ he hissed, looking around as if he was afraid they’d be overheard. ‘I already told you we can’t put anything in there.’ He nodded towards the terminal on her desk.

  ‘What about your laptop, then?’

  ‘Still too risky,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘And anyway, I prefer to keep it all up here.’ He tapped the side of his head with one finger. ‘And anyway, a story like this one has to start with a big headline and a big para. We have to name names, give times dates and places, preferably with pictures.’

  ‘Well, where are they then?’

  ‘Where are what?’

  ‘The photographers, the pictures. Like yesterday, for example.’

  ‘Pictures.’ He sneered. ‘Snapshots of you walking into a hotel in your high heels and micro-mini? No use to anyone. When we’ve got something worth looking at, then we’ll take pictures.’

  ‘Oh, so you do want me to do it again?’

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ he argued defensively. ‘No, no, we’ll get pictures. You wait and see.’ He gazed pensively out of the office window, the ghost of a smile on his face.

  Chapter Ten

  The train rattled steadily homewards, but Susie’s mind refused to be settled by its comforting rhythm.

  Perhaps it was just that she was going home to pack a bag and move to London. The new flat she’d found was only temporary, until she found something better, but this was more or less a farewell visit. Her life had changed in so many ways so quickly that it would be a surprise if she didn’t feel unsettled. But it was more than that, and something completely different. Something was definitely wrong, she was certain. Harry was up to something and it was more than just trying to get rid of her for old times’ sake. This was more – more convoluted, and more to do with his precious story. She thought perhaps she should go to the editor next morning and tell him, except that she didn’t really know where to start; Harry’s apparent reluctance to write the story down wasn’t particularly startling. And she’d hardly been on the payroll long enough for him to pay much attention if she said her instincts told her there was something amiss. At the end of the day, she acknowledged, the editor’s only experience of her instincts to date was her being completely wrong about what was going on in the flat upstairs... and letting him take advantage of her at the interview. She remembered his melodic voice coming from behind her, and the feel of him entering her the same way.

  After a moment she forced her mind back to the present, crossed her stockinged legs, and felt the wetness her thoughts and the gentle rocking of the train had provoked.

  The editor’s door clicked quietly closed behind her.

  ‘You wanted to see me?’ The voice was still melodic and soothing.

  ‘Yes,’ she answered, already reassured. She always felt calm in his presence, as if everything was so simple. ‘I don’t know how to tell you this, Mr Skase, but I think Harry’s up to something.’

  ‘Up to something?’ A single eyebrow arched in that appealing way, just as she remembered.

  Susie accepted the gestured invitation to sit on the chair before the editor’s desk. ‘Yes,’ she said when she was settled, her back straight, her knees together, and her hands folded demurely in the lap of her neat skirt. ‘He’s behaving very oddly.’

  ‘Well, he does do that. He’s been here a while, and he can get a bit eccentric from time to time. But it’s usually nothing to worry about. I shouldn’t take any notice of it if I were you. He’ll soon get used to having a pretty girl about the place.’ The cool eyes stealthily appraised the tight hemline of the skirt hugging her stockinged thighs.

  ‘No,’ Susie blustered on, too intent on what she had to disclose to be aware of the furtive inspection, ‘this is more than that.’

  ‘It is?’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘In that case you’d better tell me about it.’

  ‘Well,’ Susie had rehearsed what she was going to say many times, ‘we’ve been on two jobs together, and both times he’s set me up.’

  ‘He has? In what way?’

  ‘It’s difficult to know how to tell you this, but he’s... he’s arranged for me to... to have sex with people.’

  ‘To have sex with people?’ He seemed oddly unfazed. ‘What sort of people?’

  ‘A boxer. In Catford. It was my first day here. You remember...’ He smiled, and she knew he did. The thought of their previous encounter made her shudder secretly. Part of her wondered if he was aroused, if he was growing stiff as she was growing wet. Suddenly, somehow, she knew what his hands were doing in his trouser pockets beneath the cover of the desk, knew they were gently rolling his thickening penis and kneading his t
esticles.

  ‘Harry gave me away as the prize in a boxing fight. To the ugliest boy...’ her voice tailed away. She could still smell the musty wooden floor, the sweat and halitosis, the musk of her own sex and the man smell of him that was still on her body hours after he’d finished pounding into her.

  The editor watched, patiently.

  ‘And – and then he sold me to a Japanese man in a hotel room.’ Her panties were shamefully damp already; she dared not even begin thinking about what Yoshimura had done to her.

  ‘And you were raped by these men?’

  ‘No, not exactly... no. But it wasn’t my idea,’ she blurted, trying to justify herself. ‘I didn’t expect to...’

  ‘We did talk about this sort of thing before.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but...’

  ‘Look, we’re following a lead about a pill that enhances men’s sexual performance. How do you expect we’ll find out if it works?’

  ‘By taking it, I suppose.’

  ‘And if you can’t take it, because you haven’t got any?’

  Susie considered this. ‘I suppose you can ask people who have taken it.’

  ‘But how will we know if they’re telling the truth?’ He rose from behind the desk and came closer, leaning his bottom on the front edge, just inches away, the front of his trousers pointing brazenly at her flushed face, making it difficult for her to avert her eyes. ‘Do you remember what we talked about the day you came for your interview?’ he asked, almost patronisingly, but not quite.

  The day you bent me across your desk, you dirty old man, Susie thought, but said nothing of the sort. ‘About what?’ she asked, his close proximity making her take a deep breath to calm herself, battling to suppress the traitorous tingling within her panties.

  He eyed the tantalising rise and fall of the crisp white cotton blouse stretched tightly across her mouth-watering breasts as she breathed. ‘About not writing a story unless you knew for yourself it was true. Knew for certain – at first hand.’