Triad Page 3
She’s stretched back, muscles tensed, panting wildly. Strained and arched as she is, her hips are jutting forward....
.... presented for Michael....
.... and I wonder what he will do....
She’s sweating heavily, droplets running down her back and between her breasts. The droplets trickle down her belly, to her loin and thighs where they make a heady scented mix with her pussy juices.
He’s watching her face, holding her gaze, dropping his eyes only to take a single finger to rub against her clit. She struggles and moans, but I tighten my grip on her, curving her harder back against myself. Curving around to watch her face, I see her open wailing mouth, her eyes wide and locked on Michael’s face....
I tighten my grip again to the point of pain. It must be hurting her now, but she shows no distress, only an ever upward spiral of arousal and there’s an edge to her ever-louder wails.
Michael pushes his hand in further. I think he’s inside her, finger-fucking her, aiming upwards. When he withdraws his fingers, they’re gleaming, slick with her juices and he sucks them clean then pushes inside her again.
Once more, he makes a couple of thrusts, then pulls his hand free and pushes it into her open mouth.
“Lick yourself off me, Charlotte.”
She obeys him, sucking each finger clean as he presents them in turn. Then he reaches once more inside her, and this time he thrusts, hard....
.... and she screams....
Her body convulsing against mine, I almost lose my grip on her, but locking my hold, I control her, one arm pinning hers behind her and the other around her waist. Racked by shudders, her heart drumming through her ribs, she snatches for words, “Oh God, fuck me. One of you, please fuck me.”
Michael meets my eyes once more and I rock, releasing her to him as he stands. I roll away and he simply pushes her back down to the bed, the flat of his hand between her breasts.
I want her pussy in my mouth when she comes....
.... and Michael, I know, will want to watch her face as she orgasms....
She’s landed flat on her back, her legs splayed, probably deliberately. Her slit, pink, swollen and inviting, beckons and I shove a pillow under her hips. After weeks of abstinence, I intend to enjoy this to the full.
She’s soaked: pussy, thighs and loins are all slippery and glistening with her honey, and her gaping entrance lies open for me, the depths dark and liquid. And as I look up to see her face, my Jade-Eyes is watching me, her chest heaving.
I wrap my mouth around her. She’s tangy and salty, her flesh hot in my mouth. I suck, and her juices wet my face, trickling down her skin as I lick over her to clean them away.
Somewhere above me, I hear Charlotte and Michael murmuring something to each other. I can’t make out the words, but it doesn’t matter. I know what they are saying....
My mermaid and her Golden Lover....
Her clit is brilliant red, small and stiff and hard. I nibble at the tiny thing, hardening further myself as she reacts, bucking and straining....
Her voice is a collection of semi-connected gasps. “I want you inside me.”
Time to get these pants off....
.... thank God....
I stand, unbelting, releasing my aching cock and dumping my clothes, then perch on the edge of the bed to watch as Michael also strips for her, his expression intense.
He’s fucking huge....
.... hope she’s ready for that....
Not that I’m much different. My shaft trembles and dances as I watch them, pulsing with my heartbeat against my stomach.
She’s reaching out to him, arms outstretched, eyes wide and bright, her smile broad and white....
.... if that doesn’t reassure him, nothing will....
He lies between her thighs, his flesh gold against her pale and her hands work around his neck and up into his hair, her gaze and his locked together.
He’s testing her. I’m not sure why. She couldn’t be readier for him. Or perhaps he’s just teasing her, but he probes into her, just a short distance I think. Her thighs ripple and tense, the line of her muscles gleaming. She’s well presented for him, still with the pillow raising her, and I know that in a minute she’s going to get the lot.
He builds a rhythm, a slow thrusting that gradually hilts him before withdrawing again completely. I entertain myself with her nipples, nipping hard at the rock-hard nubs to make her squawk. Each time she hollers, I see Michael hesitating, hanging on to his control, his eyes occasionally rolling up to mine with a ‘Fine, but fuck off,’ kind of look....
Yeah.... Right...
.... which of course only encourages me. I step up the action, pinching harder, enjoying the jolt to my groin as her squeals grow louder with each pinch....
He’s pounding her now, spearing in and her squeals are becoming shrieks. He meets my eyes again and I nod. As I lube myself up, he wraps his arms around her and rolls, she rolling with him until the pair lie on their sides and she has her back to me.
Tugging the pillow away, I glide my hand over the line of her waist and hip, letting her know I’m here. Lying beside her, my chest to her spine, I run fingers over the curves of her ass, ease a finger between those beautiful cheeks.
I hear Michael. “Alright, Charlotte? Both of us?”
She’s silent save for the heaving of her chest, but she nods slowly. Penetrating her with a finger, I circle to open her, then add another finger. She remains silent, but the hitch of her breath vibrates against my chest as I press my cock-head to her, easing in.
She must be reacting. Certainly, Michael feels it. As I slowly enter her, he groans.
I take it slowly, carefully. I don’t want to hurt her, not this kind of pain anyway. Gradually, unhurriedly, I fill her with myself, withdrawing a little then easing forward again, withdrawing and re-entering, until she has me, full-length, sheathed inside.
And now I build a slow rhythm, a cadence to match her breathing. Michael matches me. She doesn’t move, doesn’t try to. For this, she must be passive. And she is, simply letting us take her, together, her Lover and her Master, in this most intimate of unions.
I build speed, thrusting harder, faster. She’s moaning, her sounds growing louder as Michael follows me. Her body rocking between us, she reaches for him, her mouth angling for his. He meets her in an open-mouthed kiss.
It’s coming, my climax. After the dry-well of the last few weeks, I didn’t truly expect to last this long, but now it rises within me. Abruptly, Michael stiffens and shudders, leaning into her with a growl. She’s shrieking something, there are words in there, but I can’t pick them out.
It doesn’t matter, she rides her orgasm and I ride her. She’s convulsing, spasming back against me, the pulse of her inner flesh scorching through me to that moment of inevitability when time slows and....
.... with vast relief, a grunt and a shudder, I Come. Spurting hard, one pulse, two and a third into her, and as I think I am done, another shiver and with a sweet/unbearable pang, I shoot again....
And I can’t stand any more....
Gasping, I pull free, rolling to lie staring at the ceiling and listen to the hammering from my chest.
Charlotte isn’t finished. Michael’s already climaxed but I think he’s still inside her and with her head pressed against his chest, she’s still howling, her body jerking spasmodically. We both watch as she surfs the wave until eventually, her howls fade to whimpers and then to simple panting.
“Thank you.” I hear her say before she too rolls to lie on her back between us.
Michael looks happier than I’ve seen him for days. Charlotte is starry-eyed as she looks at me.
My Jade....
.... I can wait for you....
.... all I need is to know you’re there....
I cup a breast, but it’s not sexual now. I just want to touch her. I kiss her, and she strokes my cheek, then rolls to lie in Michael’s arms.
*****
Eighteen Years Ag
o
A woman in uniform approaches a large building, holding the hand of a small ginger-headed child. There are steps up to solid timber double-doors. They carry the kind of locks that suggest that once closed, these doors do not open again easily.
The child is perhaps six years old, and the hair, beyond ginger, is in fact, brilliantly orange, straight and short, and sticks out at different angles, none of which have much to do with the angle of the head.
There is a thin pale face under attack from a swarm of freckles which threaten to merge into one large freckle. The child is small and slight, and it would be uncertain if it were male or female except that the enormous green eyes say this is a girl.
And she’s crying.
She struggles to break away, digging in her heels and having to be dragged up every step.
“Please, no... no.”
“Come on, Jennifer. Behave yourself for once.”
A billboard by the entrance towers above the little girl. It displays cartoon cows and sheep playing in a meadow; ‘Blessingmoors Children's Home’.
The door opens. A sallow-faced man with thin blond hair answers.
“Lost something?” smiles the woman. “One of yours I think.”
The man smiles down at the child as she tries to step back, but the woman has a firm grip on her hand. “Ah, yes Jennifer. We've missed you. That was very naughty of you, running away like that. Anything could have happened to you.” To the woman, “Where did you find her?”
“They picked her up in the supermarket trying to steal sweets.”
He gazes, expressionlessly down at the child. “Oh, she'll have to have a smack for that.”
“Take it easy on her. I think she’s learned her lesson.”
“Of course.” His smile is tight. “Come in then, Jennifer. Thank you for bringing her back to us.”
“My pleasure. Bye-bye Jennifer.”
The little girl tries to follow, but now the sallow-faced man has hold of her by the wrist. In a high, piping voice, “Don't leave me here. Please take me with you. Please.”
The woman turns back, with the air of patience wearing thin, “Don't be silly, Jennifer. This is where you live. Mr Jenkins will look after you now.”
“Please. They'll hurt me.”
“And don't tell fibs. That's naughty too. You deserve to be told off for being naughty, the way you behave.”
“Yes, she’s a regular little handful is our Jennifer,” says Mr Jenkins. “Come inside Jenny.” His grip on the small hand is tight as he closes the door behind her. He clicks it shut, then draws the bolt at the top.
Faces watch from a staircase: silent, watching but trying not to be noticed. They range from the very young to perhaps twelve or thirteen years old. None are older.
“What the fuck do you lot think you're looking at? Still, perhaps you should see this. Jennifer, Mr Klempner is very cross with you.”
She stares up at him, eyes big and green, face white.
“Yes, he is. What's the most she's had so far?” drawls a voice. It comes from a tall, fair-haired man leaning against the wall by one shoulder. His stance is all nonchalance, but the little girl swallows, trembling.
“Six.”
“Give her a dozen then, then put her in the cellars for a couple of days. And make her to clean that up too, first,” he says, pointing down. “I don't need pools of piss on the tiles.”
“Into the office, Jennifer.” The sallow-faced man points to a door. She doesn’t move. He reaches, grabs her by the wrists and lifts, to carry her dangling into the room. He puts her down again, jolting her to the floor. He stares down, then unbuckles his belt. “Bend over, Jennifer.”
She backs off, shaking her head
“I said, bend over.”
Still, she shakes her head, now backed against the wall.
He pokes his head out to the corridor, “You and you.” He jabs fingers at a couple of teenagers. “In here now. Hold her down over that chair.”
They hesitate. “Unless you want some yourselves?” he continues.
Whimpering, the small freckle-faced girl is forced down and as the leather thrumms through the air and connects, she screams....
*****
Curled up small, hugging herself for warmth as she tries to ignore the pain, the seeping cold and the sickly sweetish smell in the air, she lies in pitch darkness.
She wipes tears from her face, but she doesn’t call out. She learned long ago that no-one will come.
*****
James
“Charlotte! Charlotte! Wake up.” I sit up, holding her at the shoulders, trying to wake her from her nightmare. Tossing and crying in her sleep, she struggles to escape.
“It's dark,” she whimpers.
“Turn the lights on, Michael. For fuck’s sake turn them on!”
A light snaps on to reveal the tear-streaked face of my auburn beauty. I wrap my arms around her. “Shhh... You’re safe. You’re safe. I’m here. Michael’s here. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
She’s trying to wipe her face dry. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.... I was back there....” As I hold her close, her heart is hammering, her breathing punctuated by sobs.
My eyes meet with Michael’s.
Is this happening often?
“How about some hot milk? Or cocoa maybe? You stay with Michael. I’ll go order from room service. No, I’ll go downstairs myself. It will be faster.”
I pass her across to him then snag a robe to go down to the hotel kitchens.
The concierge gives me a sour look, asking her for service in the wee small hours....
It’s your fucking job. It’s what you’re paid for....
.... She fusses and mutters, taking my request with such bad grace that eventually I simply bang through the back of the lobby to go the kitchens myself.
“You can’t go through there, sir.”
I turn, stabbing a finger at her. “Watch me. Then check out who I am. I’ll have your ass on Monday morning.”
She pales, then starts tapping at her laptop, peering in to the screen. I don’t give a shit.
The kitchens are better organised than the reception and I easily find what I need. Hovering over a pan of warming milk, I ponder my Jade-Eyes’ state of mind....
Who did this to you? Who did this?
I return to the room with a jug of hot milk, very sweet and spiced with nutmeg, and three cups. Charlotte is calmer now. Michael is still holding her, but the frantic look has gone from her eyes.
She looks up at me sheepishly. “Sorry, Master. I feel so silly. Like some little kid that can't control themselves.”
“Sorry? There's nothing for you to be sorry about. If I could get my hands on the bastard that....”
“It's long done, Master. It's time for us all to get on with life.”
Michael says nothing, but his expression is disturbed.
*****
The Present
Sir, I have further information as you asked. I think you’re going to be very interested.”
“Really, Bech? You have my attention.”
“As I mentioned before, the police want to interview her because of her connection to Blessingmoors....”
“So...?”
“She’s had an interesting life since we lost track of her.”
“In what way interesting?”
“She’s surfaced again, living with two men....”
Brows raised.... “Two?”
“Yes sir, two. One of them ‘purchased’ her at an auction of young women. You know, the one they used to hold down in the East End.”
“Purchased her? In what way, purchased? Who had her to sell? I thought I’d cleared the competition out of the City.”
“I believe you have, sir. It appears she did it of her own volition. The terms were that her purchaser owned her for a week, no limits. And the money went to her, after house costs of course.”
“Do you know how much she made from it?”
“Yes, sir. I hav
e the record of the transaction... a copy of course.”
“Of course.” The tall figure examines the document passed to him, raising his eyebrows. “For a week?”
“She's matured since you last saw her, sir. She looks rather different now.”
“Very enterprising of her. But that’s my profit line she’s been taking for granted... So, she’s still with him? The man that bought her?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And another one?”
“Yes, sir. Him too.”
“Wonder what they’re paying her?”
“So far as I can tell, it’s not that kind of arrangement. She’s engaged to one of them and attending university.”
“Is that right? She’s getting ideas above her station is our Jennifer. A husband and an education? Not at all what I had planned for her. Certainly not after the business with Jenkins.”
“No, sir. What would you like me to do?”
“Who are they? These two men?”
“One is hot-shot with the Haswell Corporation. The other, so far as I can find out, is a nobody. He runs a leisure centre downtown.”
“Grown up just like her mother.... a whore.... Are they in a position to make life difficult when we reclaim her?”
“Who knows, sir? I’m still gathering information. I have to be careful how I do it.”
“Of course, Bech. Don’t endanger your position. We’ll take it slowly and get it right. I’ve waited long enough. I can wait a little longer.”
“So... what would you like me to do, sir?”
“Get rid of the men, Bech. Whoever they are, get them out of the picture. Then I’ll retrieve my property, get her back where she belongs.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll keep you informed. And sir...”
“Yes?”
“If you don't mind my saying so, Jenkins had it coming.”
The tall man turns, tapping a tooth with a fingernail. “Really? Go on....”