Remorse

REMORSE

(PART TWO)

BY

WALLACE

Despite the amount of paperwork that was piling up on his desk, he did the worst thing he possibly could and gave in to the urge to close his eyes.

"'Ello Guv, 'avin a kip are we?" he opened them, seemingly seconds later and saw the grinning face of his Sergeant, who was carefully placing a china mug with a pig on it on the desk in front of him, "You should be at 'ome, like we both should…" Chief Inspector Martin blinked,

"What time is it, Jimmy?" Jimmy did no more than look at the clock on the wall behind the Inspector's desk,

"Ten and you got phone calls, wouldn't have woken you otherwise. Captain Ron Kellerman, thirty-fifth Precinct, NYPD and Special Agent Richard Andersen, FBI. Rose Macgregor wants you too but I told her you'd phone back!" the Inspector rubbed a hand over his eyes and groaned.

" It's Five o'clock in the morning over there, it can't have started already, surely?" Jimmy's face was grim.

"I ain't got the full SP yet but apparently… and take a deep breath Guv… 'im and his bird 'ave just bin fished out of the lake in Central Park!" the Inspector looked at him in horror.

"WHAT? They're not…" Jimmy scratched his head.

"Dunno! Don't think so. Kellerman sounds like a straight forward, down the line geezer but he wants to talk to a senior officer to cover his own arse. Special Agent Andersen, on the other 'and, prob'ly buys a cup a coffee on a need to know to basis!" the Inspector could not help but grin. Then he looked up at his Sergeant plaintively.

"Jimmy, we haven't eaten, are there any biscuits?" Jimmy shook his head.

"We did the lot yesterday but Handy Trevor's out at Tesco's now, getting some more." Appeased, the Inspector sighed,

"Okay, put Captain Kellerman on first, then I'll talk to Andersen and then I'll tell Rose Macgregor everything I know." Never one to miss an opportunity, Jimmy grinned,

"Well that won't take long, will it Guv?" he weathered his superior officer's sour stare and slipped out of the office to check on the biscuit situation.

The first thing he saw on his desk, when he reached it, were the notes he had managed to salvage from the Jaguar the previous evening, Charlie's notes. A sudden flash of anger seemed to start in his stomach and rush to his head, then he saw the photograph on the wall of the office he shared with Barbara and Daisy.

The photograph taken on the Beano, the Jolly Boy's Outing, the day out he had organised to Southend in the summer. The photograph of Himself and the Inspector, dressed casually, holding a smiling and barefoot Charlie in their arms like she was a prize fish, with Daisy, Barbara and Pat Greene, the civilian who organised their paperwork, and did her best to prepare it for the CPS, around her like they had just reeled her in.

He wanted to pull that photo from the wall and smash it.

Smash it into a thousand pieces!

Instead he picked up the notes and threw them at the far wall of the office, that for reasons entirely of his and the Inspector's own making and for the immediate future, would be empty of anyone apart from himself.

He didn't even bother to pick up the paper that flew across the room and then fluttered harmlessly to the floor, almost covering the carpet by the far wall; he sat down at his desk and began to make some urgent phone calls of his own

*

We were sitting opposite each other in the back of what was basically an ambulance painted in the colours of the New York Police Department. An ambulance that was, in turn, surrounded by police vehicles, by blue and whites. It was still dark and a mist had formed on the lake that we had only recently been pulled out of, giving it an eerie black and white quality, like the opening shots of some low budget, British, 'fifties horror film.

We were quite literally cordoned off from the world outside and for the first time, in what seemed like a very long time, I felt safe.

Amy sniffed, we both wore thermal blankets and very little else, we had both been declared fit and the risk of hypothermia was decreasing rapidly. I had more tape on my face; this time to hold the edges together of the relatively deep nick that the knife had left on my right cheek The paramedics had pronounced us both fit and had decided that here was as good a place as any for the police to interview us.

The back door opened letting in a chill breeze, the vehicle settled on its springs and two men eased their way inside. The first, who wore a smart tailored suit, carried a small wallet with a gold shield inside it. He sat next to me whilst his companion, also showing his shield, sat next to Amy. The man in the suit spoke first.

"Hi, I'm Detective Burns, 35th precinct," I shook his outstretched hand, "and this is my partner, Detective Ortiz," the younger man leaned over and shook hands too,

"Hi," he said with a pure white smile, "Billy Ortiz." and I instantly hated him. I hated him for being such a good-looking bastard. No other reason. Amy was looking at him. Looking at him much longer than she had detective Burns, who wasn't butt ugly but was greying and maybe in his late forties or early fifties.

Detective Ortiz was something else.

Jet-black hair, a square chin with just a slight cleft in it, somnolent brown eyes, aquiline nose and a body that suggested he worked out every day.

Amy was looking at me; there was just a slight grin on her face, an "I'll tell you later" grin. Detective Burns sighed a little and said,

"Okay, we've just talked to the perps, or one of them anyway, and now we need to talk to you," he looked at me and then at Amy almost apologetically, "it's just routine." Amy took charge because I was in a strange country and more than a little out of my depth. It might have been my imagination, it might have been paranoia, I hadn't had much sleep recently, or I might still have been in jealous mode but something seemed to pass between her and Detective Burns as they spoke.

"Sure," she said, " what do you need to know, Detective?" he consulted his notes.

"Well, according to Clinton Moore…" I leaned forward,

"That's the fella with the dreadlocks, right?" Detective Burns nodded. I chanced my arm with another question. "Is he British?" the Detective looked at me, his eyes had a tendency to hood over and his manner was laconic, almost world weary but there were also signs that a sharp mind sat behind that façade, he said thoughtfully,

"Well, he's got a sheet but it's gotta lotta holes in it, he's also got a number of aliases, let's see," he pulled a piece of carefully folded paper from his pocket, "Clinton Moore, AKA, Clinton Williams, Carlton Moore, Carlton Harrison and Carlton Williams," he lowered the paper and winced, "ain't exactly the most imaginative guy in the world! He 's been indicted six times on narcotics charges in the last twelve years and he's always managed to plea bargain his way out of 'em," he looked at me with a smile, " in case you're wondering, he's probably what Scotland Yard used to call a "supergrass" but he always manages to finger some fall guy, someone who ain't an immediate danger to him." He studied me now, his gaze steady. "What makes you think he's a Brit?" I didn't have a lot to go on.

"Just something he said as he was coming at me. He was using British slang. Cussing me off but not in the way I think an American would." Detective Burns nodded.

"I'll check him out with Interpol and Scotland Yard and for the record… he says that YOU attacked HIM," Amy was aghast,

"WHAT?" Detective Ortiz broke in. He was consulting his notes.

"Mister Moore claims that he and his friend, Jesus Ricardo Fernandez, were making their way home through the park when YOU," he looked me firmly in the eye, "began racially abusing him, when he asked you to stop, you attacked them both!" Amy snorted.

"What about the handcuffs?" I asked quietly, fearing that I might now be in a hostile environment.

"Pardon me?" Detective Burns raised an eyebrow.

"The handcuffs. They had handcuffs. Moore was holding them, he didn't speak much but the other bloke…"

"Jesus," said Detective Burns. He pronounced it Haysoos, " Jesus by name but not by nature…" I wondered what he meant by that but I pressed on.

"Yeah. He said they were going to handcuff us, rape Amy while I watched…"

"…and maybe rape your fat white arse…" it was Amy doing her best to be helpful

"...and kill me and probably Amy as well!"

"Yeah and Bill never racially abused him," Amy was leaning across and looking the older detective squarely in the eye, " he SEXUALLY abused him but…" she was already realising what she'd just said. Detective Burns turned slowly towards me,

"Care to explain that?" He said with just the ghost of a smile. I sighed because it was always going to be difficult.

I looked at both Detectives and took a deep breath.

"I was pretty sure Clinton Moore was of West Indian origin or that he was at least of West Indian descent. Think of the worst insult in the world. Think of the worst thing that you can say to someone… if they're Italian you insult their mother…" Detective Burns nodded.

"Yeah and maybe get whacked for it, people have been killed for less! Your point being?"

"Jesus had already hit Amy in the face. We had to get away from them! The biggest insult you can throw at a West Indian man is that he goes down on women, that he sucks pussy! I know blokes that won't even admit it to their mates for fear of losing face. I know blokes that come to an arrangement with their partners that if they DO do it, they will NOT tell anyone about it. So I took a chance, I suggested he wanted to eat Amy's pussy and he lost it because he didn't want to lose face in front of Jesus who looked like he was in charge!" I looked at Amy, "Sorry Amy, it was all I could do!" she threw me a look, which suggested two things, if I wasn't very much mistaken.

One was that I should stop with the fucking apologising and the other, a questioning glance with a surreptitious smile afterwards, seemed to ask how I felt about eating pussy myself.

It was at that point that the phone in the pocket of my trousers started to play "My name is Slim Shady," I reached across to the far end of the bench where they were laying. I looked at Detective Burns who nodded his consent, rose slowly and put his head out of the ambulance door.

" Hey guys, I want the bushes over by the elms searched thoroughly, before daylight if possible, okay?" someone distinctly said,

"You gottit!" in reply and he sat back down whilst I answered the phone. I was surprised to hear a cheerful cockney voice at the other end

"'Ello sunshine. Jimmy Clarke. 'Ows it going?" I looked around me.

"Not too bad," I said guardedly.

"Oh, you're still with Lily Law then! " I nodded but he couldn't see me, "Right, now listen! I bin doin' a bitta checking and those two, it's Burns and Ortiz ain't it?"

I nodded again, uselessly.

"Yes."

"Yeah, well they really are a coupla New York's Finest! They got commendations as long as your arm and they bin bussed in from the 35 ^th Precinct, over and above the blokes in Central Park 'cos the Commissioner wants people he knows and trusts on your case, okay?"

More than a little heartened by this, I nodded again,

"Yes. Yes thanks, Jimmy." He lowered his voice,

"Now the guvnor's got a lot on his plate right now, so if you got any problems, contact ME, okay? Anything at all. Oh and I 'ear you bin doin' a bitta detective work yourself…" I was tired, I had to think.

"Oh, you mean that business on the plane..." I could almost hear him smirk.

"That's it. The Medical Examiner's gonna carry out an autopsy in the next couple of hours and fax the results over to Sue Henshaw, our independent Forensic Pathologist but his preliminary report suggests that you were right, it WAS cyanide and if there's any doubt, Sue will carry out a second Post Mortem when we get the body back. Anyway, whatever 'appens we're gonna be checking up on Tom Roberts wi' the proverbial comb o' the fine tooth variety!" He suddenly became business like. "Listen, I gotta go. Anything you want, call. Good spot on the cyanide, we'll make a copper of yer yet. Oh and how's Amy?" I looked over at her; she was studying me with a puzzled expression on her face.

"Wet! " I said simply with a grin meant for her. There was a moment's pause, after which Jimmy said,

"That's the way I like 'em matey, wet and willing!" and then he hung up. As I was disconnecting, a red faced uniformed cop opened the door to the ambulance with two large, clear, plastic evidence bags in his hands. Each one contained a set of handcuffs. He held them aloft for his colleagues to see and then he addressed Detective Burns.

"Found 'em in the bushes like you said, Jerry. We've bagged 'em. Want us to label 'em, or will you do it?" Jerry Burns smiled and waved a dismissive hand.

" S'okay, just make it readable, not like last time. Capisce?" The red-faced cop smiled and nodded and closed the door. Detective Burns looked at me almost apologetically.

"Okay. I think I can see where we're going on this. Billy?" he glanced at his partner who nodded his assent, then he turned to Amy.

"Miss Olsen, we've got your address, we've been assigned to you for the duration of Mister Rodgers' stay, so we'll be around. In the next few days we'd like you both to swear out formal affidavits down at the Precinct but it'll keep. Mister Fernandez has a history of rape, he ain't going anywhere and we like him for two aggravated burglaries up in Queens a few nights ago but we also have problems making his indictments stick, so we'll be talking to the Assistant DA..." I was, I'm perhaps ashamed to say, suddenly concerned for Jesus Fernandez.

"How is he?" I asked.

Jerry Burns took it in the spirit it was intended.

"Hey, don't lose any sleep over Jesus, you're not the first, and you won't be the last to slug him and if you HAD iced him, you would have been doing the city a favour! As it is, he's awake, he's not talking and he's got a fractured skull, a broken nose and some concussion and an arm that's busted in three places! He'll live, unfortunately. Just one question. What did you hit him with?" Amy grinned and before I could say anything she said,

"A tree!" Detective Burns patted me wearily on the shoulder.

"Okay Superman, I know you've had a hard night. I'm gonna get a squad car to take you and Lois Lane here home!" he aimed a gold ringed finger at me, " Try and stay outta trouble, yeah? Billy'll give you a number you can ring at any time and we'll be in touch, take care now!" and he and Billy Ortiz shook hands gravely with both of us before I realised that one question remained unanswered.

I looked at Amy and she nodded as if she could read my mind. Perhaps she could, I looked directly at Jerry Burns,

"The er, the bloke who shot at us, what happened to him?" The detective held my gaze.

"He's dead!" Amy and I exchanged glances and Billy Ortiz consulted his notes again.

"Anatole Kreskin, Russian, lived in New Jersey for the last four years…"

"Did your guys shoot him?"

"Didn't get a chance!" Billy Ortiz again, " He fired a total of six slugs from a three fifty seven magnum in the direction that you WOULD have been in, if you hadn't hit the lake, before someone shot him through the back of the head with a high powered rifle. Pair o' cops from Central Park Precinct heard shots and were on the scene when it happened." Detective Burns pointed up and to the right.

" According to CSI, the trajectory suggests it came from one of the apartment blocks over there on West Seventy Second but we don't know yet and we've had to put a guard, twenty four seven, on Moore and Fernandez, for Chrissake!" for a moment I thought that he was going to spit on the floor but he didn't, looking at my blank face he gave me as good an explanation as he could, "There was an incident in London last evening, which might be related, in which all the perps were fatally wounded but they killed a cop and a Police shrink as well, before one of their own iced 'em." A shiver ran down my spine. "Shrink" was exactly the word Charlie had used to describe herself earlier…

"Do you know who it was?" I asked a little timidly, hoping he would say no, but his face clouded over.

"Yeah, I worked with her once. A real sweetheart! Everybody called her Charlie but her real name was Charlotte Wright- Patterson!" I felt myself go pale, I put my hand on Amy's arm as if for support and Detective Burns knew immediately that his answer was not the one I wanted to hear.

*

It was only when we were in the Blue and White and a block or so away from Amy's apartment that I suddenly remembered something. She seemed perfectly content, her head resting comfortably on my shoulder. She'd already apologised for being stupid back in the ambulance but I'd kissed her and told her not to be silly and held her. She was still shaking a little but, all things considered, she'd taken being nearly raped and killed pretty damn well. I, on the other hand, was too far gone already for the last incident to make much difference, apart from one thing.

One thing I had never expected.

Charlie's death had been just one too many.

I tried to raise my head without disturbing her

"Hey Amy," I said quietly," is your name really Olsen, like in Jimmy?" she looked at me and yawned, then she touched her luxurious, almost white hair,

"So what? You thought this was out of a bottle?" she watched my face go red and then she smiled and moved her head enough to kiss me on the lips, "My parents were Swedish…" her much larger than average and now braless breasts were rubbing gently against me and I couldn't help wondering idly if THEY were anything to do with her Swedish ancestry as well.

*

Billy Ortiz had already opened the doors to the black sedan that was parked close to a clump of bushes near the lake; he looked at his partner as they both eased themselves in.

"Well?" he asked tentatively. Jerry Burns smiled,

"What? Other than the gazongas on Miss Olsen you mean?" They closed the doors in almost perfect harmony, then he turned to his younger partner, "And I know that ain't exactly PC but I ain't feeling very PC today!" Billy Ortiz smiled,

"You'll do! And before you ask, yeah, she WAS an attractive woman and yeah, seemed like she had brains as well but I still don't…" Burns waved a dismissive hand.

"Okay, okay, already! Each to his own…" but Ortiz was already on another train of thought.

"The guy though…" Detective Burns turned, suddenly intrigued, with a an inquisitive grin on his face,

"Hey! Surely he ain't YOUR type?" Now Billy Ortiz grinned,

"Nah! But what's he doing with HER??" the older detective's expression changed,

"Hey, hey, he's not too much younger than me! Us older guys can still cut it y'know!" Billy Ortiz put the car into gear and gave his partner a sceptical look.

"Yeah, course you can Jerry! Anyway, I thought your love was golf these days." Jerry smiled and waved a finger at him.

"Hey, I'll take one big wet hole over eighteen grassy ones any day!" he suddenly turned thoughtful, "Given the chance, that is!" Billy reversed the big car and then stopped for a moment and looked at his partner.

"What are HIS chances?" Jerry looked grim.

"I got that bad taste in my mouth. Wanna beer? We're off duty in five minutes.". Billy Ortiz pursed his lips. There were watering holes for Cops around here but it was coming up six thirty in the morning.

"Okay, but I need food …oh I get it! You wanna go to Elmo's where the drag queen smiles at you!" and he put the car into gear.

Now Jerry Burns grinned.

"Anyone who can raise a smile for me these days is good in my book!" and then his face soured again, "Those guys who tried to ice him? They got connections and they ain't good ones. Moore's been seen in the company of some pretty high up Yardies…" Billy Ortiz nodded,

"Yeah, Kreskin's got family links to the Russian Mafia and Fernandez…" Detective Burns finished the sentence for him

"…is just one evil sonofabitch!" he turned to Billy Ortiz, then his face brightened just a little, "Hey Billy, I thought you knew… that drag queen… she's one of my best snitches! I'll see if I can find out anything while you eat!" and Billy Ortiz smiled; glad to be able to finally lay to rest an image that had been haunting the far corners of his mind for several months, but Jerry Burns's face was a dark mask again. For a moment it seemed as if he were talking to himself,

" That guy, the Brit?" Billy Ortiz turned and nodded, "Seems like a nice guy and I don't think he's got the slightest idea of what he's gotten himself into…" his voice trailed off and he seemed to be studying the middle distance, then he slowly seemed to come out of his reverie.

Now he turned to his partner,

"We'll do everything we can but five gets you ten that when he finally goes back to London," he looked away from Billy Ortiz and out of the car window, " it ain't gonna be Club Class or Tourist or even Coach!" Billy turned slightly in his seat wondering if his partner had finally lost it.

Jerry's eyes were dark and intense, his voice low,

" When he goes back to London, it'll be the same way he got here," he was still staring out of the window, " in the luggage hold… but this time," now and only now did he turn to look at his partner, " chances are he's gonna be in a wooden box!"

*

We were standing on the steps of Amy's apartment building, not a brownstone but custom built loft apartments, she took my face in both hands very, very gingerly and it felt better than it should have done, she looked at me with soft eyes,

"Charlie… that was her name, wasn't it?" I nodded, " Did you know her well?" I shook my head carefully.

"No! Only met her… when was it? Must've been yesterday!" she brushed her lips against mine

" Her death's really upset you and you were doing so good up to then!" I looked up at the sky, snorted in disbelief and then looked back down at Amy.

"Too many deaths! You go through life, lose maybe half a dozen really close family and then all of a sudden there are people dying all-around you, four people in twenty four hours that I knew, even if only for a while and they all died because of me!" Amy was about to speak but I got in first. " …and I don't know why! I just don't bloody know why!" my eyes were moist again and I looked away from her, only to have my face turned gently back.

"Maybe you need to forget about things for a while," she said quietly and then she kissed me once again. "There's nothing you can do right now…" we had entered the building and were now in the lift to the fourth floor. She was rubbing her body against me, her lips brushing mine. She still smelt good, despite being doused in freezing lake water. She put her arms around me. "Come to bed." She whispered, more seductively than I would have believed possible, outside of a James Bond film, "Come to bed and sleep …You'll feel better…" her left hand was already teasing gently against the front of my still damp trousers, "…I don't expect you to…Oh wow!" she looked at me and her voice was stern but her face was smiling,

" It really is true what they say about men and their cocks!" she kissed me again and then she broke and said, "You got no fucking control of it whatsoever, have you?" she was being more than a little unfair, I thought but then she kissed me once more and I'm quite sure that she would have started stroking my treacherous body part again, if the lift hadn't come to a fairly abrupt halt on the fourth floor.

*

I'd been to Amy's apartment once before, just after I'd tried to rescue Sheila from the clutches of someone who was really trying to help her, someone who also knew Charlie.

The very thought of Charlie made me shiver involuntarily.

Amy unlocked the door and I walked in first.

It was pitch dark and I knew there was a cat to negotiate somewhere, Spirit, a beautiful and affectionate grey moggy who moved around like a ghost, like a puff of grey smoke, hence the name but she didn't seem to be in evidence. The apartment was open plan and I was just reaching the sleeping area when I felt, rather than saw, movement off to my left.

Right then I was so wired, everything I did was reflexive.

I threw myself sideways and heard a gasp as I contacted soft flesh. I lashed out once, twice, maybe three times. The body underneath me was wriggling, trying to get away from me but I already had my hands around what had to be its throat, I was starting to rise up onto my knees to get a better grip, when a blow to the side of my head knocked me sideways and into nothingness.

*

Despite everything, despite her restraints and the things that nestled softly inside her, she felt warm and comfortable, more warm and comfortable than she had for a very long time.

Almost as soon as she had entered the chamber she had felt her consciousness slipping away from her. The strong but comforting sound of the heart beat taking her steadily deeper and deeper, the warmth and the silence of the lockdown chamber taking her further and further down into a dark and silent and very relaxing world, all of her own.

She couldn't speak and she couldn't see, she couldn't move and she had no need to. There was sensation, faint at first between her legs and it began to grow steadily. It began to build. Deep and satisfying, deeper and more satisfying than she could ever remember anything ever being.

It was so luxurious and so pleasurable that it didn't even occur to her that it was a sexually related feeling; it just felt so good, so very good that it was almost an entitlement somehow. Something that she had never felt but had always wanted to, like some long lost need, like a need that everyone carried deep in their core but that was seldom satisfied.

She could feel also feel the soft warmth of other beings nestling against her and feel the soft, gentle rhythmic sucking on her nipples, on her teats, that right now seemed to be every woman's entitlement. She wasn't really aware of her two companions anymore, just of their regular, soft, sucking. A sucking that felt that it could tip her into the vast yawning abyss of climax at any second but never did.

When the other feeling kicked in, the feeling low down, low, low between her legs and almost in her back, then she felt complete. The slow mesmerising sound of the heartbeat continued, the unbelievable waves of pleasure began to build and it was only when she had reached an almost perfect level of concentration that she heard the voice, the soft, gentle voice, not urging, but just telling her what it wanted her to do.

*

I don't really know what I was expecting.

Maybe I was expecting never to wake up again but I WAS awake and more or less conscious, my head cradled in something warm and soft

For a moment, one brief horrifying moment, I thought that Amy had betrayed me but even now I was starting to get the measure of this new situation

Something even softer was insinuating itself onto my chest, my shirt had been undone, and now my wrist, my left wrist, was being gripped gently, thumb where my pulse should be and I could hear voices.

"Oh Amy, what did you do that for? He's already hurt and you could've made it worse!" Amy's voice was a cauldron of frustration.

"Hey! You should be thanking me, stupid! I just seen him in the park. You ever seen TREE rage before, huh? He just nearly broke a guy in half because he tried to kill me, er, us, er...Oh whatever! And what the HELL are you doing here anyway, Kitten? You were supposed to check that everything was okay and go back to your own place! What in the name of Christ went wrong, huh?"

Slowly I opened my eyes and, despite the gloom, found myself staring into two huge brown ones.

This just had to be Kitten and she had the biggest eyes, outside of the animal kingdom, that I have ever seen in my life. Big, soft and innocent, trusting somehow and yet despite or maybe because of that, they were the most overtly sexual eyes I had ever encountered.

I did my best to refocus and realised that it wasn't JUST her eyes that were sexual, it was the whole of her body. Her skin was smooth, her features soft, her lips full, her nose a little button. Her hair was dark brown, shoulder length, shiny and feathered. Her body was generous, not fat but generous. Her breasts were large and so were her thighs and I could see them because all she was wearing was a black thong and a baggy, camouflage tee shirt. No jewellery, very little make up, she smelt absolutely gorgeous and her toe and finger nails were black, shiny black.

She realised I was staring at her.

And I guessed that she must have been used to it by now but she didn't react the way some people would, like she had been cursed, instead she leant forward and kissed me softly on the cheek and said, with more than a trace of irony.

"Hi, I'm Kitten, I WAS Amy's friend… until about two minutes ago!" and then she hugged me.

*

It was soft and gentle, maybe American, maybe mid -Atlantic, it was hard to tell but its message was clear enough.

"Relax now. Relax now, baby. It feels good to relax. So, SO good to relax and you feel good, so, SO good. You're warm and comfortable and special.

"So, so, special.

" Special to us.

"Special to everyone around you and the more that you relax, so the less you need to think and the less you need to do. You're warm and comfortable and taken care of and you don't need to think any more.

" All you have to do is do.

" Just do.

"Do what we say and do what we ask and you will feel so, SO, relaxed and so, SO, warm and comfortable!

" All you have to do is anything that we tell you.

" Just do anrything we tell you!

"Don't think about it, just do it.

" Thinking brings conflict and we don't want that, we want you to be happy, we just want you to be happy and if you do everything we tell you, without thinking, then you'll be happier than you ever could have dreamed of.

" You'll be as happy as you ever possibly could be!"

She tried to fight it but the voice was soft and insistent and a wave of climactic proportions swept over her, starting between her legs multiplying at the base of her back, doubled and redoubled by her clitoris and reinforced by the pressure sensitive pads all over her body, her utter helplessness and the soft gentle suckling of Angela and Ally. It was so powerful that it seemed to make her very soul tingle with excitement, Heather closed her eyes once more and surrendered to the feelings and the commands that were washing over her.

She felt warm and comfortable and empowered somehow and when the orgasms finally broke, like a threatening summer storm, it was as if she was at the very top of the highest roller coaster in the world, pitching down headfirst, almost vertically, into a pit that seemed to have no bottom and no end.

*

Her name wasn't really Kitten; we'd established that whilst Amy pulled off her yellow Caterpillars, stripped off her still damp socks and towelled her feet dry

It was Lorelei, and Lorelei, like so many other people who became interested in S&M, for want of better initials, including Amy, had originally been a nurse.

It was BJ who decided that she needed an alias and "Kitten" had been his first stab, although it derived from "Sex Kitten" which was apt but which they had all soon dismissed as being too much of a mouthful. Kitten had made her SAM.com debut almost a year previously and had proved an instant hit because she could take everything and more that BJ and the Princess could possibly throw at her.

She loved breath play, she found being beaten, (under the right circumstances) a rush and she could soak up pain like a sponge but it was the fear and the anticipation that seemed to do the most for her, each session seemed to help her confront her fears and seemed to make her stronger and more vibrant.

Amy bustled into the living area, newly showered, wearing a robe and nothing else. She was in "let's get clean" mode, probably a reaction to what had happened earlier, and she held out an impatient hand.

"Pants, shirt, socks, underpants..." I threw a glance at Kitten who stood up and motioned me to as well. For a moment I thought Amy was going to applaud, "Good girl Kitten!" she glanced at me, "She's seen it all before Bill, she's even sucked BJ's cock on camera!" I sneaked a glance at Kitten and she gave me a totally innocent smile in return. Then I looked from her to Amy and at the robe Amy was even now throwing over the back of the Post Modern, black leather Chesterfield we had been sharing and started to undo my shirt before Kitten undid it for me like she had thirty minutes earlier.

*

She had gone deeper and deeper and still deeper.

The voice had helped.

The enormously pleasurable sensations that washed over her constantly, helped too, fuelled by her inability to move or resist in any way She had always had a thing for bondage, she felt attracted to it and it never failed to excite her .

She was surprised that she was still conscious and hadn't surrendered to sleep after the initial burst of orgasmic activity. She realised now that she was on a kind of quiet plateau, in a kind of waking sleep where nothing bothered her, where the sounds were outside sounds and the feelings were outside feelings, almost as if she were empathising with another person.

Slowly, very slowly, the darkness began to lighten and so did her body.

She seemed to be moving further and further away from her real self…

*

…the room was warm.

It looked but didn't feel, old somehow. It was dimly lit by a single gas lamp with a green shade. The furniture was walnut, inlaid and polished, giving it an expensive look. The curtains were drawn and let in no light whatsoever. They were thick red velvet, floor length and tasselled. There were parlour palms in the corners of the room and aspidistra close to the black iron fireplace.

She looked at herself in the full-length mirror and tidied a stray hair just as the door opened. A tall man, greying and in his late forties or early fifties inclined his brilliantined head.

"Miss Hutchins is here for you Madam, shall I show her in?" She gave the butler an insouciant grin, hitched up her skirts and almost glided towards him. She stopped, inches from him and brushed a non existent speck of lint from his shoulder

"Why, we're very formal today, Rodgers, is something wrong?" Rodgers lifted a white-gloved hand to his mouth and coughed discretely.

"I thought Madam that we…" she smiled.

"I know Rodgers, I know and we do… I was just joshing with you!" Rodgers looked more than a little relieved.

"Thank you Madam, in that case, may I show Miss Hutchins in?" her smile broadened.

"You may Rodgers, you may and you may also dismiss the rest of the staff! However I would like you to stay because I will have need of you later… is that understood?" Rodgers coughed once more, his expression unfathomable.

"Of course Madam, I shall be in the pantry, should you require me." he gave a little bow and left the room only to return with a woman dressed entirely in black, wearing a black hat with a veil which covered her face.

He said quietly,

"Miss Hutchins, Madam." and left the room for good this time. Miss Hutchins stood motionless as she moved towards her and carefully lifted the black veil. Still holding it she took a step back the better to see her and then she stepped forward again and kissed the newcomer lightly on her soft cheek.

She sighed.

"Miss Hutchins you are everything my Butler said you were and I think that you will bring me a great deal of enjoyment, not to mention profit!"

*

It was late, or early, depending on your stance or time zone. The curtains in Amy's, apartment were thick and lined and shut out all light. There was just a lamp on. The lamp Amy had switched on just after she hit me. Finding Kitten in residence seemed to have put paid to our tiredness and now Amy and I sat comfortably together in soft, fluffy robes that smelt of her and fabric conditioner, she rubbing her bare feet gently against mine, whilst Kitten sat on the floor with her legs crossed and her thong visible, listening to us, or rather, listening to me trying to describe what had happened in the last twenty-four hours, hoping that I could somehow get some of it out of my system.

Finally Amy looked at me and said,

"You know, even if you don't eat, you really should drink something," she was already nodding her head before I could speak, "I know, I know! Coffee's gonna keep you awake and water… well okay, I can understand you not liking water very much, especially right now but you should have something…" Her eyes narrowed and then brightened considerably, "What about tea? I've got some Earl Grey…" I really didn't want to disabuse her of this American idea that all British people drink tea; especially that kind of tea but Kitten saved me.

"Oh no! He doesn't like that. It's shite, absolute shite!" and then she realised what she had just said. I suppressed a shiver and looked at her suspiciously. From the little I knew of her, there was no side to Kitten whatsoever.

What you saw was what you got.

"Kitten," I asked slowly, "have you been in contact with Sheila at all…Y'know 'bout five six, slim, English, short hair with a burgundy rinse, face of some sort…" there was a definite tut from Amy who had scuttled away from me a few seconds previously,

"'Course she has! Sheila's staying with her…" I didn't want to finish the sentence; I didn't want to suggest that that was why Kitten was here but Sheila did tend to be an acquired taste and that very same Sheila had been known to piss people off to the extent that they would do anything to get away from her but…

Kitten must have sensed that her unwitting impression of Sheila had unsettled me. A little shamefaced, she looked down at the polished pine floor and then rose up on her knees and looked at me with a smile,

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," she was kneeling forward in what appeared to be an act of supplication, "… I just…" I took her in my arms because that was exactly what you wanted to do with Kitten. She was warm and soft and everything I thought she would be.

"It's okay, it's just that for a moment back there, it was like… it was like she was in the room with me." I felt the shiver even now, then I heard a voice from the cooking area, Amy's voice, followed by the sound of cups rattling.

"So that's what this bag is, right? I saw it earlier but it didn't really register…. Bendicks English Delicatessen…hey Bill… what the fuck are PG Tips?"

I had to laugh.

Only Sheila would have the sheer gall to send someone out, in the middle of New York, and presumably, in the middle of the night as well, to buy tea bags.

*

She had moved behind her now, stroking the back of her neck with her right hand whilst studying her intently.

"My, but he has tied you tightly!" she leaned in close and just let her lips brush the nape of her exposed neck. Then she moved so that the new arrival could see her once more. She took off the black veiled hat and threw it onto a nearby chair, letting the girl's long luxuriant brown hair tumble down. It reached the small of her back and she brushed a few stray wisps from her face and then she took a pace backward

Miss Hutchins was indeed tied very, very tightly. She was wearing a brown dress that reached to her ankles, black boots and a long black topcoat. The coat covered the ropes around her upper thighs, her waist and above and below her breasts. Her hands were tied behind her, elbows touching, palms together, her arms engulfed by a web of geometrically perfect, intricately tied, white rope holding them tightly rigid.

To disguise all this the empty arms of her coat had been tucked into her pockets to give the impression that her arms were still inside them. She dropped to her knees and lifted her skirts a little. As she suspected there was a rope hobble just above her ankles maybe nine inches in length that just allowed her to take small delicate steps but certainly would not allow her to run away.

She stood up and looked into her victims' glittering blue eyes and said quietly,

"It seems that he has done a very thorough job. I know you can't speak, Miss Hutchins but I want you to nod and I want you to tell the truth now." she paused for a few seconds, "I know you didn't come to me exactly willingly but I need to know if he has taken any liberties with you, aside from tying you up that is. Tell me the truth Miss Hutchins, I am not your enemy, in fact you may well find that I am much more than your friend. Has my butler touched or interfered with you in any way?"

*

Sheila, it transpired, was her normal ebullient self, although she had had a cold for the last few days that had stopped her filming. Constant sneezing, when your hands are tied behind your back, isn't fun all round and she had been banned from the warehouse on safety grounds, the safety of the people she was sneezing all over whilst Kitten had taken some of her scenes and acted as gofer as well.

Contrary to my expectations, Sheila and Kitten actually got on famously, it seemed, Kitten taking charge and confining Sheila to bed. That surprised me even more because the word "headstrong" was probably coined with Sheila in mind and it wasn't like her to do as she was told.

I looked at Kitten in amazement.

"You've either done the impossible or she was at Deaths Door! I've never known Sheila stay in bed… ever!" I wasn't telling the full truth but I was referring to times when she was on her own. Amy was sitting next to me again and the three of us were holding mugs of hot and strong but quite milky tea and Sheila's box of PG Tips lay open on the breakfast bar. I made a mental note to replace them to prevent hostilities breaking out in the not too distant future.

Kitten gave me her usual wide-eyed and innocent look.

"Oh it was easy! Once I got her in the jacket…" I eyed her suspiciously,

"Jacket? What jacket?" Amy had raised an eyebrow and was putting her cup on the glass table in front of us, a table that also doubled as a fully lit and fully stocked aquarium, but Kitten carried on unconcerned.

"Oh, the strait jacket. The one BJ gave me!" half of me wanted to hug her and protect her, the other half wanted to scream at her. But Amy was already resting a hand on my thigh.

"Okay Kitten, lets get this right, Sheila was ill, so BJ gave you a strait jacket to keep her in…" Kitten was already shaking her lovely head.

"No, no, BJ gave ME the strait jacket because he wanted me to get used to it!" I felt Amy's grip on my thigh tighten but I was beginning to see a clearing in the jungle.

"Why, Kitten? Why did he give you the jacket?"

"Oh, because we used it in one of the scenes and I liked it and BJ wanted to go live with me in it for a whole day but I needed to get used to it because that crotch strap is soooo tight!" Amy was looking at me but I soldiered on.

"Okay, so you take the jacket home and wear it, right?" her eyes were even bigger now than usual,

"That's right, I watch TV in it or I read or I just hang out… but I can't fasten the arms…." she looked at me, "… I was going to ask Sheila to do it for me but…" I turned and stole a glance at Amy. As far as I was concerned she was damn lucky she hadn't but Sheila was still very reticent about getting involved with other women, she preferred to let things happen rather than take the initiative.

"Kitten, tell us what happened." It was Amy, her voice almost pleading.

Bright as a button Kitten said,

"Sure. I was at home and I'd just showered. I heard someone at the door and it was Sheila. So I let her in and she was sneezing and I said "Oh you poor thing!" She was all…oh, she used a word…" I took a punt.

"…bunged up?" Kitten smiled.

"Yes that's it! Because I thought she meant she was, y'know, pregnant!" I bowed my head and put my hand over the lower part of my face. Amy's frustration was beginning to show and she dug me harder than was necessary in the ribs but it didn't stop me laughing.

"Okay Kitten," Amy's voice seemed to have risen several decibels, "let's cut to the chase, shall we? What did you do to Sheila? Why did she end up in a strait jacket and where is she now?" Kitten smiled, she always seemed to be smiling.

"Sure. Like I said, Sheila was sick, I told her to take a hot bath and then BJ rang me on my cell phone and told me he wanted her to stay in bed for a few days, so when she got out of the bath…"

I suddenly had a vision.

A vision of Sheila walking around naked, as she normally did at home and my mind was filled immediately after by a similar vision of a naked Kitten, who had already mentioned that she had just showered, grabbing the sky clad Sheila, wrestling her to the ground and then encasing her in the inescapable jacket.

Things had gone quiet, both girls were looking at me expectantly, Kitten said pleasantly,

" Did you want to ask me something Bill? Only…" I was stuck.

"Er, no, it was just that, er, well, Sheila's not very domesticated. She, er, has a habit of walking around with no clothes on…" Kitten smiled,

"Oh, that's great! That's not a problem. We both do, she's got a really cute body!" I couldn't look at her and I got the distinct impression that Amy was staring at my crutch but she poked me viciously in the ribs again before I could be sure.

"Ignore him Kitten," she said, through visibly clenched teeth, "he's just gone hormonal. Now carry on..."

Kitten was quite happy to.

" Yeah, so when Sheila came out, she saw the strait jacket where I left it on the bed." She looked at me oblivious of what was happening in my mind, "It's beautifully made Bill, you really should see it," Amy was shaking her head, "And when Sheila saw it, she asked whose it was and if she could try it on because she had one at home, just like it…" I could feel Amy's eyes on me now and it wasn't uncomfortable so much as, well, horny, really.

I obviously knew what Amy was into and she had an inkling of what I did for a living these days but the inner workings of Sheila and myself had never really been mentioned.

At least not by me…

Amy's hand was still on my thigh but it seemed somehow softer now and it was also moving gently upwards.

"Okay, " Amy was taking the lead once more, "So the straitjacket was the same as the one Sheila had at home, yeah?" and before Kitten could answer, her hand had slipped quietly into the folds of my robe and soft fingers were meeting and gently gripping, rapidly hardening flesh.

*

She looked in to eyes made much bigger by the gag that was undoubtedly formed from tightly packed cloth covered by strips of white Egyptian cotton. The black veil would have covered it but to further camouflage the fact that Miss Hutchins' mouth was sealed, a pair of lips had been etched onto the cotton in bright red lipstick. The two women stood a few inches apart. They were the same height and much taller than the average woman. The one with the short blonde hair studied her dark haired captive, holding her loosely by the shoulders and marvelling at just how similar the two of them really looked.

Finally she said,

"Well Miss Hutchins? What is your answer? I have no intention of harming you permanently but you WILL find that it is best, in the long run, to tell me the truth. Now once more, has the man who bought you here, my butler, interfered or taken liberties with you in any way? Answer me now!" and then suddenly her whole demeanour changed and her face softened. She touched Miss Hutchins's cheek and said quietly, in a voice that was far more American than her usual tone, "Ain't gonna hurt ya honey, just tell me the truth!" she stood and waited and after what seemed like hours with no sound but for the steady ticking of the ornate Long Case Clock in the corner and the occasional clip clop of hooves from passing Hansom cabs, Miss Hutchins finally sniffed and nodded her head.

*

I think that at that stage, my mind wanted or needed a diversion and so as Kitten described the events of the evening when Sheila came home with a cold, so I could clearly see the whole tableau enacted in the private, slightly run down and strictly Adults Only theatre in my head.

Sheila was naked and barefoot; she walked into the living space of Kitten's apartment towelling her short hair dry. Seeing the TV still on, a large tiffany lamp the only light source but no one present, she wandered through to the bedroom humming something completely unrecognisable to herself, as she tended to do.

Kitten was sitting on the bed, equally naked, closing her cell phone. Next to her lay a black PVC straitjacket complete with hood. The curtains were drawn and the room was lit by a single, ornate and multi coloured Tiffany Lamp, smaller than the one outside but bright enough to see clearly by.

When she heard Sheila padding in, Kitten looked up and smiled.

"Hi! How ya feeling?" Sheila grimaced.

"Yeah, I'm all right! Certainly didn't need to be sent home like some overgrown bloody schoolgirl…" she broke off to sneeze wetly into the air. "Bugger!"

Always empathic, Kitten stood up and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Oh you poor thing! Come and sit here on the bed and I'll make you a drink." She put a little pressure on the naked woman's shoulders and, for once in her life, Sheila complied and bent her knees to sag onto the edge of the bed as Kitten sat down next to her, " BJ says you are absolutely NOT to go to the warehouse until you're better!" Her eyes widened considerably, " And he wants ME to look after you!" if that had any impact at all on Sheila, it was very hard to tell because she was already stroking the soft shiny material of the strait jacket.

"Oh, this is nice!" Kitten looked down and absent-mindedly reached out a hand to touch the material too. Their fingers met briefly.

"Oh yeah," she said plaintively, "it's absolutely gorgeous and I love wearing it, you feel so, so…" Sheila's eyes met hers.

"Confined?" Kitten nodded.

"Yeah, so wrapped up but so snug and warm somehow!" Their faces were very close. Sheila picked up the jacket and put it to her nose, which she then wrinkled in distaste.

"Oh, this bloody cold, I can't smell sod all! And it normally smells so good…" Kitten's eyes were almost engulfing hers.

"Have you been in one of these?" she said as Sheila held the jacket to her small but perfectly shaped breasts. She nodded almost absent-mindedly.

"Mmm. Oh yeah. I've got one at home, or rather Bill's got one that he puts me in if I've been fucking about too much!" Kitten's eyes seemed to sparkle for a moment.

"Does he do it up tight?" she asked almost breathlessly. Sheila giggled.

"Oh yeah! AND there are inserts, only I don't let him use the butt plugs, horrible fucking things!" she looked away and into the middle distance, "Some of the dildoes he's got are fucking enormous, real pussy stretchers!" Sheila DID set out to purposely shock sometimes but if Kitten was shocked she didn't show it, although her eyes did seem to widen that much more. Sheila looked down at the shiny black jacket again. "This one feels a bit more flexible, it's newer than ours, or it's not had as much use… but it feels like it's got a lot more padding, like despite all that it would keep you even more still… make you feel even more… wrapped up…" Kitten meanwhile, had been looking Sheila up and down with as blank an expression as she could muster.

"What do you mean… he puts you in it?" she said slowly. Sheila laughed.

"Oh no! It's not the way YOU think, he's not some kind of monster!" she thought for a few seconds, "Well, only when he's snoring and I can't bloody sleep! No, he puts me in it because I make him, because I wind him up and wind him up until he's got no bloody option!" she put her face so close to Kitten's that their cheeks were touching. "It's the way I like it!" suddenly her face changed and she looked down at the floor and at her bare polished toenails. She seemed lost in her own thoughts until finally she said, "Well it's the way I used to like it, before…before…Oh bollocks! " she looked up and across at her companion, "Y'know, in all the time I lived with him I could never say that to him, I could never be honest! Know something? I've probably talked more about our sex life to YOU than I EVER did to him… and that's part of the bloody problem!" Kitten was already standing up and she had grasped Sheila's hands before she could even put down the strait jacket.

Taking no heed of just how infectious Sheila might or might not be at that moment she kissed her gently on the cheek and said quietly,

"Maybe you being sick is a GOOD thing! Maybe you need time to think." The naked Kitten moved smoothly behind the equally naked Sheila and began to massage her shoulders gently. Sheila could feel her muscles unknotting almost as soon as the younger woman touched her, she let out a little sigh and almost leaned against Kitten who was just slightly taller than her.

Kitten smiled,

"Is that nice?" Sheila nodded silently, "You need to take a little time out, think things over, relax a little! It's been hard for you, the last few months, you need to let go!" Sheila stifled a cough, she really didn't want Kitten to stop but Kitten was already eyeing the jacket that Sheila had dropped back onto the bed.

She put her face close to her ear and almost nervously she said

"You'd like to try the jacket wouldn't you?" there was a pause and then Sheila replied as if she was answering a normal every day question, not one that was going to affect her freedom for the immediate future.

"Yeah. You know for like, old time's sake. It must be nearly a year since he put our one on me…" she turned her head as much as she could and looked at Kitten, "…what the fuck! I've missed it, y'know and I miss him… " She corrected herself as quickly as she could, " …sometimes! Oh fuck me!" And she sneezed so hard and so loudly and so unexpectedly that Kitten knocked the jacket on the floor in surprise.

*

Her mouth was packed with the same Egyptian cotton that had covered it and it had been packed with care, not shoved carelessly into place. It had been pushed to the sides and back of her mouth as well as the roof so that her mouth was truly stuffed with material and speech was nigh on impossible, her tongue held stringently down by the tight packing.

All she was capable of was little mewing noises at the back of her throat.

T he blonde woman held the saliva soaked packing distastefully between thumb and forefinger and dropped it into the fire then she walked slowly back to Miss Hutchins who had yet to utter a sound. Almost impatiently she said,

"It's all right girl, you can speak, I wouldn't have taken that "stuff" out of your mouth otherwise!" Miss Hutchins seemed unable to take her eyes off the tall woman in front of her.

The woman who bore a remarkable resemblance to herself.

She was obviously in unfamiliar surroundings and she seemed to have trouble marshalling either her words or her thoughts but eventually she said,

"It's you! The one what I'm s'posed to look like. The American with the English name, the do gooder, the Suffragette, the one everybody 'ates. The one blokes think they're dealin' wiv when they fuck me… when they 'it me… when they…" she broke off and burst into tears.

For once in her life, Lady Heather Franklin felt more than a tinge of embarrassment. She rushed forward, pulling a clean handkerchief from her pocket. Unfurling it she put it under the still bound girl's nose.

"Hey, hey honey, it's all right now! Just blow for me, good girl, good girl!" she wiped her nose and then her eyes, "That's it honey, thaats better!" she moved even closer and stroked the girl's cheek, knowing that she had to ask, "When they… what honey? When they…?" the girl looked at her for a second before replying but she could see nothing to be embarrassed about. She sniffed and then her top lip twisted upward as she said,

"When they fuck me up the arse, yer ladyship. When they fuck me up the arse because they think they're fucking you!"

*

It wasn't difficult, Sheila had held out her arms and Kitten had simply tugged the straitjacket in place, although she had wondered how hard it would be to put it on someone who was really struggling and for some unaccountable reason, she found herself becoming surprisingly wet.

She pulled the jacket over Sheila's shoulders and quickly did up the mass of leather buckles and straps at the back. Soon she was encased, the thick padded and comfortable looking collar, almost orthopaedic, held her neck rigid, the body of the jacket confined her torso and her arms were held uselessly in long black tentacles that had yet to be strapped tightly round her chest and stomach.

Kitten could not resist, she put her arms around her new captive and whispered in her ear,

"How does it feel, baby?" Sheila shivered. She wanted to turn to Kitten but she couldn't. Equally quietly, in fact at that moment she found herself almost too excited to speak, she said.

"Yes, Kitten, it feels really good! You'd better get me out of here before I …" but Kitten was already hugging her even tighter.

"Oh no, oh no! Just give me those arms…" she reached forward, gathered Sheila's left arm, eased it gently across her body and began to thread it through the loops and straps at the back of the shiny black PVC strait jacket. She took even more of Sheila's weight as she leant heavily against her and a drew a deep, deep breath through her nose whilst she fastened the left arm firmly in place, "You're not going anywhere now Sheila," she whispered, "You're going to stay here with me and let me look after you because I'm in charge now!" she kissed her on the cheek and then began to tug the other arm into place leaving Sheila much more helpless than she had been just five minutes previously.

*

Lady Heather wasn't shocked and maybe that was the problem. Maybe she should have been but the years working with the prostitutes of Limehouse and Whitechapel had perhaps hardened her more than she realised. When she first heard about Lynn Hutchins, when people first began to mention the uncanny resemblance between her and a common Street Girl who worked the sailors coming to and fro from the London Docks, it had never occurred to her that people would take her fame and notoriety out on someone else.

Heather eased the bound girl into an armchair. She was talking much more readily now.

"It's the knobs, the rich people, what are the worst. They hear about me and they get people to meet me in the pub and make assignations. I mean I can't complain really 'cos I earn a lot more than I would otherwise but…" and here she looked at Heather plaintively, "They 'ate YOU Miss! They really 'ate you. All that women's rights stuff, it's a threat to 'em! They're more frightened of you than they are the Kaiser or the Anarchists or even the Bolsheviks! Only they don't really say it, most of 'em, they just make me grovel and beg. Beg not to be beaten. Beg not to be fucked up the arse! Pardon me for saying it again, Miss. One bloke, 'e's a doctor at the London 'ospital and 'e thinks I don't know, 'e makes me take me street clothes orf and then he ties me in me bloomers and me stockings over this thing, 'e calls it an 'orse, and then he beats me and makes me apologise for doin' the things what you're doin' and I have to… I have to suck him… I have to suck his…"

Lady Heather was perched on the arm of the chair feeling extremely inadequate. She touched the girl's face

"It's all right Lynn," she looked at the girl for a moment, realising that she deserved, at the very least, the common courtesies and she coughed self-consciously, "Is it all right if I call you Lynn?" Miss Hutchins laughed.

"'Course it is Miss, I get called a lot worse!" and for a fleeting moment she smiled and her entire face lit up. Heather said gently,

"So this man forces you to suck his cock, is that right? Lynn Hutchins nodded.

"Yes Miss. Sounds funny when you say it, what with you bein' posh an' all!" Heather smiled to herself. If only she knew, if only she really knew, but she carried on quite briskly.

"Okay Lynn, I have a proposition for you. I will make no bones about the fact that if you agree, you will be helping me a great deal but you will also be helping yourself and I will see to it personally that you will be safe at all times!" she studied the bruise that was evident on Lynn Hutchins cheek and touched it gingerly with her thumb, "You cannot continue in your current circumstances but I would like you to continue with your current business," she paused momentarily, "for a little while at least." She stared off into the distance and then back at the slightly puzzled Street Girl who said quietly,

"All right Miss but I got commitments! I need at least two bob a week to pay me rent and such!" Lady Heather smiled

"Two things Lynn, first of all, in future you will please address me as Heather, oh and you will certainly be earning much, much more than two shillings a week. Secondly, I still want to know exactly what my butler did to you." Lynn Hutchins looked at her with eyes that suggested more than distrust because people had promised her things before but she was, in the end, a pragmatist.

" All right Miss, I mean Heather. Someone made the assignation for 'im, they didn't tell me what 'e wanted but they did suggest that he liked "restriction" and 'e took me up to a room over a shop in 'anbury street." She paused and then looked up almost trustingly at the American. "Is chloroform the stuff what knocks you out, Miss?"

*

She wasn't afraid.

At least she wasn't afraid of the situation she was in.

There was a definite frisson of fear however, when she considered just how far both she and Kitten might, or could, go.

She trusted Kitten who, no more than five minutes ago, had squatted on the carpet in front of her, still naked and blithely informed BJ, via her mobile phone, that she had done exactly what he wanted, that Sheila would certainly not be going anywhere and that if it was all right with him she would be staying to look after her.

She couldn't be too sure of what BJ had said although she got the impression that he might have been tearing his hair out just a little but it was her final words that had really caused her problems, that had really made her clench down there, in the places that she was doing her best not to think about right now.

In response to something BJ had said, Kitten had looked at her with those big eyes and said,

"No BJ, she's not going ANYWHERE, not even to the toilet, unless I say she can!" And then she had closed her phone and looked at Sheila like she was some kind of prize, some kind of possession.

An object maybe, rather than a person and Sheila had shivered and a sudden spasm seemed to hit her in that vaguely forbidden zone between her legs

It was at that moment that she finally realised just how moist she really was. Alone, tied up and at the mercy of someone who posed about as much of a physical threat to her as the proverbial dead hen but whose sheer raw sexuality radiated from her like some kind of glowing, pulsating, living aura.

Kitten got up slowly, moved forward so that their faces were just a few inches apart and then squatted down so that her buttocks were resting lightly on Sheila's knees. The strait jacket was now fully done up, apart from the crotch strap, which hung somewhat comically between her legs. Her bare feet were planted firmly on the floor and the rest of her was pretty much taken care of by the restricting jacket.

She was hugging herself, her shiny black PVC covered arms strapped tightly, one over the other and held immobile behind her back. She couldn't move her neck, the high restrictive collar saw to that and she hadn't realised originally that the extra padding of the jacket concealed steel boning that not only made it heavier than the average strait jacket, further restricting movement but also nipped it in tightly against her stomach and waist, meaning that she had little room to breathe.

It also meant that she have to be doubly careful about moving too quickly because the tight lacing would soon make it difficult for her to inhale.

Sheila was more restricted than she had been for a very long time but she wasn't frightened like she had been when she had been kidnapped, in fact she was the complete opposite. She looked up at the naked Kitten who was regarding her almost lovingly and at that moment all her thoughts seemed to revolve around that one person

She could smell Kitten; she could feel Kitten and she was beginning to think that she wanted Kitten.

Kitten meanwhile, stretched luxuriously and then put her arms around the helpless Brit, drawing her close. She kissed her on the cheek,

"How does it feel?" she asked genuinely. Sheila looked at her for a few seconds and then quite proudly used the only Americanism that she had managed to pick up so far,

"Yeah. I'm good!" she said brightly, nodding her head at the same time, knowing that she was hiding more than a multitude of sins.

Kitten, soft warm Kitten, rubbed her nose against the sensitive skin just above Sheila's neck. It seemed to Sheila that she was trying to burrow her way in but it felt good, almost ticklish in fact and she could already feel the gooseflesh rising on her body.

Quietly, very quietly, she began to whisper in Sheila's ear.

"Y'know it was always a fantasy of mine to, to make out with another woman but I never thought it was possible until I met BJ and he made a lot of my other fantasies come true!" Sheila shivered. She was holding her legs together tighter than she wanted to but there was a reason for that.

Even now Kitten was taking her right hand from her shoulder and lowering it gently onto her exposed left thigh. Sheila shivered again and she realised that she was still speaking.

"... we started slowly. He blindfolded me, put me naked in a hogtie and left me on the warehouse floor. Then he blindfolded two of the girls; they were naked too, and he tied their hands behind their backs and made them kiss what they found, otherwise they got whipped and sometimes he whipped me too, not so hard that it REALLY hurt and it was a real rush…" now she was nuzzling Sheila's ear and it felt so good that she had no option but to close her eyes and put her head back as far as the collar would allow.

Kitten was running her left hand softly through her hair.

"Some of the other girls, they kinda graduate from being submissives to topping the newer girls on camera. I thought about doing it but BJ says I'm too good a submissive, too popular to lose…" she put her lips close to Sheila's ear and asked, "What do you think Sheila? Do you think I'd be any good as a top? Do you think I could top you?" As she battled with the threat of an approaching small climax, for once in her life Sheila could not even begin to think of an answer.

*

Lady Heather listened expressionless, one hand on her chin, as Lynn Hutchins recounted the events of the previous few hours. She had met the man she now knew to be William Rodgers, her butler, in a room above a shop in Hanbury Street, Bethnal Green. A place still notorious as being the site of one of the Jack The Ripper murders nearly twenty years earlier.

She hadn't known Annie Chapman, the victim but she had met some of her family and although her death worried her it didn't worry her enough to give up her only livelihood

Rodgers had arranged the meeting through an associate. The day she met him above the Hanbury street shop was the first time that she had ever set eyes on him.

As soon as she walked in the room she could feel his eyes on her. He was tall and apart from a crisply laundered white shirt, dressed entirely in black, even his tie. His boots, she noted, were highly polished and his hair was brilliantined and greying.

"They tell me your name is Hutchins, girl. Lynn Hutchins. Is that right?" she held both hands clasped in front of her and said quietly.

"Yes sir, that's right." He spoke brusquely but she was used to it. She'd put up with worse.

"My Mistress," Rodgers began, looking down his nose at her, "whose name does not concern you right now, has a proposition for you. One that might even keep you off the streets but I have to prepare you first." there was a pause. She was mindful of the fact that she wasn't being given an option in this but money didn't exactly grow on trees in the workhouses of East London.

"Well don't just stand there!" Rodgers had his hands on his hips now. "Come here girl! I need to get you ready."

Slightly hesitantly Lynn walked towards the butler until she was standing just one or two paces in front of him. Impatiently he muttered,

"Turn round girl! Turn round! Take that damn coat off and throw it on the floor!" she hesitated for a second but it was enough time for the butler to say testily "It's all right girl, it's a probably a damn sight cleaner down there than that thing is anyway!" Lynn said nothing, the coat was only three months old, she'd bought it from one of the new Marks and Spencer shops but she took it off, folded it and put it on the floor anyway.

"Now girl, put your hands behind your back!" she was starting to see the light now. It wouldn't be the first time a client had tied her up and it probably wouldn't be the last, at least she hoped it wouldn't. She was a fairly good judge of character and she had this one down as being a bit pompous and a bit overbearing but no more. In fact she had at first wondered if he was one of the ones who wanted HER to tie HIM up, perhaps gag him with some intimate garment of hers and stroke his cock until he climaxed but she had obviously been wrong.

She rubbed her wrists a little, almost in anticipation and then she stretched her arms and eased them behind her back.

Rodgers slapped her lightly until they were in the position he wanted and then, with surprising efficiency, he picked up some white cotton rope and began to bind her arms together, rigid and palm-to-palm.

He laid rope after rope after rope until her arms were almost inextricably drawn together, her wrists secure, her elbows touching. Experienced as she was, something about his manner, something about his expertise with the ropes seemed to attract her to him and although she was a business girl she found herself becoming just a little excited.

Something she had no intention of relaying to her client who even now was at her feet, lifting up her skirts, running a hand up each of her stockinged ankles and then, with remarkable dexterity, tying a nine inch hobble between them to prevent her running away.

Satisfied that he had Lynn how he wanted her, Rodgers stood up. In his hand she could see that he was holding some soft white material.

"Well girl," he said quietly, "You may be a common prostitute but you keep yourself in reasonable order and your clothes are better than I might have thought but it wouldn't be for you to go talking in polite company, so open your mouth now!" she looked at him a little wide eyed and he said wearily, "It's all right girl, it's only until we get to our destination and that's Arbour Square in Stepney, do you know it?" she nodded silently. "Good. And now I want you to open your mouth."

She did it.

She did it as soon as he told her to but instead of what she expected, instead of him stuffing the whole wad of cloth into her open mouth, he surprised her by packing it carefully in place. There wasn't much she could do to stop him but the feeling of having this man pack cotton tightly inside her mouth, pressing it into cavities that she hadn't even considered before with surprisingly nimble fingers, was somehow humiliating and deeply exciting at the same time.

She felt her tongue being pressed down to the floor of her mouth by the packing and the cotton being carefully pushed in until it touched the roof and the sides as well. She idly wondered if her mouth was beginning to bulge and she was almost disappointed when Rodgers finally withdrew his fingers and bent down to the small Gladstone bag that was lying on the floor.

When he straightened up again he was holding yet more cotton, in pure white strips this time, which he then proceeded to wrap around and around her mouth so that it was not only stuffed but also tightly sealed.

He bent down once more and took out more cloth but this was in the form of a man's linen handkerchief. From his pocket he withdrew a small brown fluted bottle with a glass stopper and then he walked slowly around her until he was standing behind her once again. He put an arm around her and drew her tightly again him. She heard him sniff.

"Well you DO surprise me. You smell of Sunlight Soap, so at least you wash regularly!" she tried to speak but she couldn't. She tried to tell him that she, unlike a lot of the other girls, especially the Absinthe and Gin drinkers, was very careful about her personal hygiene and made a point of douching after every client but it was all in vain. He let go of her, pulled up her skirts and delivered a stinging slap to her exposed and strockinged right thigh.

"Behave yourself now girl!" he said sternly, "You're not being paid to throw tantrums, so stop it now or I'll smack you again!" Lynn calmed down very quickly and was quite comforted to feel his arm around her once more. She had also noticed, out of the corner of one eye, that he had slipped the bottle and handkerchief back into his pocket.

"Hold still now, I have to examine you!" she wondered what that meant but at least so far he had not tried to be over familiar. He had not tried to kiss her or anything like that.

She hated that.

All the girls did.

He had been running his hands over her arms, her tightly bound arms and now he was studying them closely. She wondered why? He put his face close to hers.

"Not that it's any of your business," he said quietly and as if he could read her mind, "But I am checking to make sure that the ropes are not affecting the circulation of your blood, your arms would go blue if they did but they seem normal. Now…" he let go of her again and squatted on his haunches. He picked up the bottom of her skirts and raised them slowly, causing her to shiver not with fear but with a kind of excitement.

Eventually he stopped and tucked the hem of her skirt into the waistband, leaving her stockings and bloomers on display. Then he stood up walked round to the front of her and repeated the action leaving her fully displayed at front and back.

He took a few paces backward as if taking stock and then he walked forward again, undid her cardigan and roughly pulled open her blouse leaving her standing there with her brassiere exposed.

He was watching closely and if he was expecting her to blush then he was several years too late but he had noticed a shiver as he displayed her bra. He walked towards her again.

"Your breasts are very nice Miss Hutchins," he said quietly, "They are an asset to you, as I am sure you are aware!" and with that he moved closer and touched each one very gently and then he gave them both a light squeeze. She had been around too long to blush but she did feel a tiny twinge of embarrassment because she had somehow enjoyed it.

His eyes on her and his superior manner made her feel subservient but excited. He was humiliating her in a way that she could deal with, in a way that, she had to admit, she was quite aroused by.

Now he was stepping back again and his gaze was travelling downwards.

"So," he said finally, after studying her for some time, after staring at the area between her legs, "Are you as clean down there as you are everywhere else?" she looked at the floor, she couldn't look at him.

It was the wrong thing to do; he raised his voice just a little,

"Look at me girl! Look at me when I'm talking to you or else I'll have to take my belt off to you and put you over my knee!" this shouldn't be happening. She shouldn't be feeling like this but a sudden rush, a sudden liquid feeling between her legs left her feeling weak. She did as she was told and looked at him, looked into eyes that were brown and surprisingly soft and then she shuddered as he moved forward, put his hands into the waistband of her drawers and pulled them swiftly down to her knees.

She still had her stays on, her corsets, but all they did was frame her abundant patch of pubic hairs between taut white suspenders

For a while he said nothing and she could not speak even if she wanted to. The tension seemed to build up considerably in the small room above the tobacconists shop. He reached out and touched her cheek and looked once more into her eyes. He seemed to be telling her that he could do anything he wanted, anything at all.

When he finally touched her pubic hair it was a relief and she wanted to snort air out through her nose but she found that she was still holding her breath and he was still looking at her,

"This is extremely soft Miss Hutchins." He was touching it with the back of his hand. Every movement of that hand transmitted feelings that were almost luxurious and seemed to run from between her legs up and down her spine. Not many, in fact no recent men had touched her as gently as this. She realised that he was speaking again,

"I really did not expect you to be quite as fastidious as this," she shivered, she knew what the word meant and despite herself this time she really did blush and as he saw the redness spread across her face so he slipped a gentle finger inside her, looking at her with one eyebrow slightly raised as he felt just how wet she really was.

He held her gaze once more and then he slipped in another finger.

Their eyes were locked as he very slowly began to slide his fingers in and out, although she really wanted to close hers and give in to all the sensations that were now alive within her. His fingers moved slowly and tantalisingly, sliding in a little deeper and then threatening, just threatening to withdraw.

She wanted him right then.

She knew that it wasn't polite to ask but she had, sometimes in the past, if a customer had demanded it, if he had wanted her to beg him to fuck her and to fuck her hard and certainly that was exactly what she wanted right now.

She really wanted this man to fuck her but she couldn't even ask.

She was tied hand and foot and gagged.

He began to move around her, not taking his eyes off her and not removing his fingers, in fact he seemed to be agitating her wetness more and more. He was standing behind her now, one arm around her again, making her feel warm and comfortable, while the other hand continued sliding two fingers in and out of her seemingly sopping wet entrance.

He was pressing up against her, his groin against her bare buttocks and it felt good. She could feel his hard penis against her but it felt strange somehow. It felt odd. Hard and large but distinctly unusual. It seemed to be pointing straight up but she liked the feel of it and could not help but rub against him.

A fact that he was not slow to pick up on.

"So you like that, do you Miss Hutchins?" he whispered in her ear, "Little point in my calling you a little whore now, is there?" she shivered at the words. She shivered again when she realised that he was now moving a knowing finger upwards to a place where no one else had ever even bothered to touch and very soon he was rubbing that finger over the hood of her clitoris, causing her to moan through her gag and sag back against him.

She felt movement, the arm around her shoulders had gone and he was slowly, very, very slowly, withdrawing his fingers but to her surprise and delight, mixed with just a little horror, she found that he was only withdrawing them so that he could deal with her twitching clitoris more directly.

Obviously skilled fingers were already feeling around it and lightly drawing back the hood. She trembled in anticipation, an anticipation heightened by the sound of his voice in her ear.

"This will make you feel a little woozy Miss Hutchins, and eventually you will sleep but you won't be harmed, you have my word on that!" And with those words he offered the white linen handkerchief up to her nose and pressed it there, forcing her to inhale deeply as he began to strum a soft finger against her clitoris sending wave after wave of raw pleasure though her, over and over again, until she finally lost consciousness.

*

"Hey! How are ya?" Kitten sat on the edge of the bed and looked quizzically at Sheila. It was freshly made up with satin sheets and an absolute pile of satin covered pillows. Sheila was laying propped up comfortably by the pillows, her legs a little more wide open than she would have liked but held in that position because Kitten had told her, in no uncertain times, that that was how she wanted them and that that was how they were to stay until she had done what she had to do.

Her feet were propped comfortably on the white satin covered duvet and she had already admitted to herself that if she had to be held captive, then this was the way it ought to be.

In Kitten's right hand was a glass tumbler with a glass straw in it, she held it just under the helpless Sheila's mouth and now it was her turn to look quizzical.

"What's that?" Kitten smiled.

"Orange juice. Vitamin C. It's good for you!" She put a hand on Sheila's black clad shoulder, "I liquidise the oranges myself and then I let it cool down in the fridge. Try it!" She put her hand on Sheila's back and helped her sit forward a little more. Then she offered the straw up to her mouth.

Sheila WAS used to using straws because it wasn't the first time she had been in a situation like this but this was different somehow. Of course there was always the vague fear, in the back of her mind, that Kitten might be some kind of Psycho but on the whole she felt wanted and loved and cared for and as she drank she watched with surprise as Kitten produced another straw, dropped it into the nearly full glass, lowered her head and began to drink too.

It was arguably the most intimate moment she had ever shared with another woman and they both drank steadily until the orange juice was all gone, both making strange noises with their straws as they tried to Hoover up every last drop. They were both laughing now and when Kitten finally took the glass away it seemed the most natural thing in the world for them to touch noses and then kiss each other softly on the lips.

It was Kitten who broke first and as soon as she did and with no free hands, Sheila was unable to stifle a huge yawn. Kitten chuckled and touched her cheek.

"Hey, sleepyhead, time for bed. Just lay back on the pillows for me and keep those pretty legs open!" Sheila knew this was out of character, she knew it wasn't like her to do as she was told but she did it anyway. She lay back on the pillows, letting them support her weight comfortably and if anything, opened her legs even wider than they were before. Kitten repositioned herself and reached out a tentative hand, which she smoothed slowly down Sheila's left leg.

She was looking up at the shadow covered ceiling, revelling in the feel of Kitten's soft hand when she felt her head being lifted just a little. The hood of the strait jacket was unzipped from the body and dropped on the floor. Kitten's lips were close to her ear now.

"Won't be needing that baby, not in your condition and I'm not going to gag you either!" she kissed her on the cheek, "But I AM gonna blindfold you, for a little while at least… just hold still baby!" the blindfold was very thickly padded and it felt snug when it was finally buckled tightly but not uncomfortably in place. If it thrilled Sheila then it certainly seemed to have an effect on Kitten too.

"How's that, baby? How does that feel? Can you see how many fingers I'm holding up?" Sheila couldn't see a thing.

"Er, twenty seven?" Kitten threw her arms around her, hugged her and kissed her wetly on the cheek.

"Oh you're so sweet and so lovely! Not the pain in the ass people said you would be!" Sheila wanted to laugh. She would leave wondering about exactly WHICH people had said that for later but she wasn't insulted, she knew how she could be sometimes, she knew what she was and all she wanted to do right now was hug Kitten for being so bloody honest but she couldn't because she was almost inextricably bound up in the black PVC strait jacket that kept her restrained and almost docile.

She could feel movement down by her thigh and then she heard Kitten's voice, thickened by concentration.

"Spread those legs for me baby, this won't take long," Sheila had the vaguest inkling of what might be happening.

"How about if I do this?" she asked, almost dreamily and drew her bare feet and legs up as if she were about to give birth. She felt her left inner thigh being stroked gently in return.

"Oh that's great… I've got to touch that sweet little pussy now… think you can handle that?" Sheila sighed.

"Uh huh, but don't be surprised if I come, will you?" Kitten leaned forward and kissed her again.

" Oh, you are soooo sweet! Just hold that thought now…" she imagined she heard the snap of latex gloves being donned and then she felt something cold and shivery being applied, first to her outer lips and then further and further inside her not unwilling pussy by gentle female fingers. She just could not stop herself from pushing her head back against the soft pillows and moaning,

"Oh fucking hell Kitten! That is absolutely fucking gorgeous…" pleased that her efforts had not gone unnoticed, Kitten applied even more lubricant and began to whirl knowing fingers around and around inside Sheila's soft and receptive vagina.

Somehow she knew that this wasn't going to go on forever and even as she resolved to savour every moment, so she could feel those beautiful fingers slowly withdrawing.

She felt breath, warm soft breath on her cheek and then the tiniest of kisses.

"Not long now baby, just be good for me, be just as good as you have been so far…" And then, almost as an afterthought, "Not going to hurt you… couldn't hurt you! You are SO lovely." She needed this. She REALLY needed it. Her self-esteem had taken more than a few knocks recently and she had been craving this pampering, even though she hadn't even realised it until now.

She felt something touch her outer lips, something surprisingly warm.

Something that almost felt like living flesh.

Now it was rubbing against those labia, slippery but comforting.

Now, suddenly, it was trying to go further, it was trying to breach those lips and burrow inside. Despite herself Sheila had no option but to speak,

"Hey, hey, my pussy was made to EXPEL a baby's head, not take one in! What the fuck is … mmmmmmmmmmm! " The hand over her mouth was soft and warm, it was there only to keep her quiet, she could still breathe.

And of course Kitten was quieting her.

"Sssh now, I got neighbours, remember? " Sheila rolled her eyes upward, even though Kitten couldn't see them.

Neighbours for fuck sake!

What about her?

What about her pussy?

Deprived of speech and sight, all she could do now was feel the thing invading her, feel what it was doing to her, feel herself accommodating it, feel it, thick, long and just pliable enough to be real, pushing into her rapidly lubricating pussy.

And feel herself becoming truly excited.

Now she was using her muscles, not to expel the thing but to try to drag more of it inside her. She felt a sharp, sudden, slap on her inner thigh.

"Hey, hey! Leave some for me, greedy!" the hand was gone from her mouth and it was replaced by soft lips. Soft, moist, plump lips. They kissed and then she heard Kitten's voice again, "How does that feel now? That's about as far in as I've ever seen something that size go!" Sheila would have sat up if she could.

If Kitten wasn't straddling her legs.

"Oi! What you trying say about the size of my puss?" but Kitten was already soothing her.

"Nothing Sheila, nothing. It's just that that's one REALLY big cock and you've taken it all! Normally there's a few inches sticking out but you've got everything. It really is awesome!" Sheila blushed but it felt good. It felt really good. She hadn't had a proper seeing to for nearly a year and although there was a stage when she thought she'd never be able to take a dildo again, this one, probably because of who had inserted it, felt really, really good. Really, really, fucking good!

She shivered as she felt hands working around her hips and thighs and then heard Kitten's voice again.

"Can you roll over for me? Just a little…" still she was doing exactly as she was told and she rolled a little to the left, feeling those hands again, feeling them at the base of her spine and feeling her pussy contracting as a strap of some kind was buckled into place. "Good girl! Good, good girl! you can roll back now. That's good, that's really good, you're nearly all done. Just put your ankles together for me," once more she did it and was rewarded by the feel of Kitten's soft hands on her sensitive feet and ankles.

"Are you ticklish?" Sheila's reply was spontaneous.

"Don't Kitten, don't or I'll piss myself!" Kitten's reply was equally spontaneous.

"Oh wow! I've never done water sports before! How does it taste?" Sheila could not help but giggle like a schoolgirl, in fact at that moment she had a vision of both herself and Kitten in school girl outfits; tiny miniskirts, white blouses unbuttoned almost to the waist and revealing their black, too small bras, combined with stripy ties, black patent high heels and long, long black stockings hitched to tiny black garter belts and the most miniscule of black mesh panties.

She fancied taking the lead with Kitten some time and giving her as good as she was absolutely sure she was going to get. In her minds eye at that moment, Kitten was tied hand and foot to a chair, her sheer black stockings and panties were exposed and she was gagged. Gagged with the biggest ball gag that Sheila could think of and she was now standing in front of her, showing more than a little stocking herself, very slowly greasing an enormous dildo…

She made a mental note to mention this to Kitten when she was better and maybe to BJ as well but for now she said.

"Bitter! Like the bitterest, flattest thing you could ever think of…" she could already hear Kitten drawing an awestruck breath to ask the only possible question that was open to her but she got in first before she could actually ask her how she possibly could know what urine tasted like "… don't go there Kitten. Just don't ask! …Maybe another time, okay?" all she got from Kitten in return was a giggle by which time something tight but inordinately comfortable had been strapped into place around and between her ankles, keeping her legs together and ruling out the possibility her of getting out of bed without help.

She was about to ask but this time Kitten got there first,

"They're hospital restraints, like they use in mental facilities, adjustable buckles, thickly padded and REEEALLY tight! Now, I just need you to sit forward." Her hand was on Sheila's back now, easing her head towards her knees, or so it seemed and then she felt a tugging sensation and she realised that Kitten had hold of the strait jacket's crotch strap and was even now sliding it between her legs and buckling it more than a little tightly into position. The breath literally whistled from her mouth as she felt the monster penis inside her being pushed irrevocably home.

"Christ almighty, Kitten! What are you trying to do to me? Make me eat the bloody thing?" But Kitten was already laying her back down and straddling her again. She kissed her cheek.

"Hey baby! You're all done now!" she said pleasantly, " I'm just going to lock everything up and turn out all the lights and then I'm coming back to bed with you and we're going to sleep. Okay?"

Sleep?

Sleep with that monster fucking cock inside her?

She didn't think so.

She was so excited right then that her whole body seemed more alive than it had for months. Suddenly she wondered about Kitten.

She wondered if she really was all there.

Suddenly her mouth felt very dry.

Dry with excitement and suddenly too; she could feel Kitten beside her again.

She must have padded in whilst she was otherwise engaged.

"Hey baby. Don't worry I'm going to do something for you before we both sleep." Her tone became conspiratorial, "Actually you're going to help but drink this first, it's more juice." The cold soothing orange juice was very welcome and when Kitten was sure she'd had enough, she heard her put the glass down on the nightstand and felt, for the first time in far too long, the pleasant sensation of someone easing their way into bed with her and the satin duvet being gently tugged over the pair of them.

Next Kitten's arms engulfed her and she whispered,

"That's it! The lights are all out. The doors are locked and we're all on our own!" Sheila couldn't help but shiver as she felt Kitten's bare feet against her own.

Then she felt a strange sensation between her legs and there was movement there. Movement that was being transferred to the huge invader between her legs. A slow gentle movement. An up and down movement almost like the masturbation of a penis and then she felt herself being urged forward and rolled a little onto her side.

"Oi Kitten, what are you trying to do to me now?" she whispered light heartedly. Suddenly she felt a judder that seemed to start at the monster cock inside her and go all the way up her backbone

"Well," said a quiet little voice, "I guess I've never done this before and I know you're all tied up an' all but I didn't know if I should fuck you or if you wanted to fuck me!" and for Sheila the penny finally dropped.

The monster inside her was only one half of a double-ended dildo that Kitten had now managed to impale herself on. Both girls, she guessed, were now lying on their sides, she could feel Kitten's arms around her shoulders and she could already feel the excitement and hear the sight squelching sounds as Kitten began to move gently up and down her end of the giant penis.

Sheila moved her lips to where she guessed Kitten's ear would be.

"Oh no Kitten!" she whispered, biting down gently on her ear lobe as she did it. "You started this, so you can bloody well finish it! Fuck me Kitten! Fuck me hard and don't let me come until that fucking thing is coming out of my ears!" Kitten didn't need a second telling and before Sheila knew it, she was flat on her back and Kitten was mounting her once more with the intention of doing exactly what Sheila had just asked her to…

*

…It must have been the painkillers. God knows I'd taken enough in the last twenty-four hours and they had been getting progressively stronger. When I finally came out of my reverie, Amy and I were locked in a clinch on the sofa. We were kissing passionately, more than passionately, because both our robes were open and her soft warm hand was coaxing my seemingly rock hard penis ever upward, the same hand that had gently manipulated it all the while Kitten was telling her story.

My right hand meanwhile, or rather two fingers of it, was sliding slowly in and out of Amy's most intimate place and she was moaning quietly against me. In short, we were necking like a couple of teenagers and completely oblivious to Kitten's whereabouts. It was only when Amy's hand gave way to something much more enthralling that I realised that she was still in the room with us at all

I hardly noticed it at first. A kind of wetness around my penis and warmth, warmth more associated with intercourse, with the engulfing of said penis by a soft, moist cavity.

With no warning at all Amy's hand disappeared and then her arms wrapped themselves around me and if anything, she seemed to kiss me even more passionately. The sensations around my penis were incredible. There was warmth and moisture and softness and a feeling like I was being sucked into a long deep tunnel.

Then I heard Amy's voice,

"That's right bitch take it, take all of it! You wanna suck his cock? Then you suck all of it! Every last friggin' inch!" And I felt her hold on me loosen for a second and heard a resounding slap. I guessed that it had to be her hand on Kitten's exposed buttocks.

Then her arms were fully round me again.

I didn't want to look down because I wasn't quite sure how I would feel to see what I had no doubt would be Kitten's head working furiously at my groin so I stayed focussed on Amy's face

Surprisingly, I hadn't allowed my fingers to slip out of her and she groaned with obvious excitement and said as quietly as she could,

"Just let her do it Bill. Let the little bitch suck you off – she'll get hers later!" I couldn't help but smile to myself as I began to rub my thumb against the hood of Amy's clitoris and as I did so she warned,

"Stay on your knees Kitten! Stay on your knees and give him the best head you've ever given anybody! Oh and play with yourself as well! Play with yourself bitch but don't come before we do!"

I could already hear Kitten moaning and I could feel the resonance of her moans against my cock as she fingered herself. Until that moment I must have been the only man in the world who didn't really take to blowjobs but Kitten transformed all that for me.

It was like being sucked into a warm velvet cave and the feel of her tongue on the underside of my penis and around the bell end was absolutely sublime. I knew I wouldn't last long even as I exposed Amy's clitoris and began to tap on it ever so lightly and when she kissed me and almost sucked my tongue into her mouth, I knew that she couldn't last much longer either.

I'd never actually done it before, I'd never really come in a woman's mouth but Kitten left me no option. Feeling as if my penis were connected to a vacuum cleaner, I could do no more than literally empty my spunk deep into Kitten's throat just as Amy screamed and Kitten herself collapsed on the floor, spent by the force of her own orgasm.

*

Lady Heather studied the woman who was now stretched out on the piece of padded apparatus that was set up in the room adjacent to her drawing room and touched her back lightly.

"Well Lynn, how does that feel?" Lynn Hutchins no longer wore her street clothes; in fact all she wore now were her stockings and her long line corset with the attached brassiere. Lady Heather thought that she looked rather elegant but Lynn had other ideas.

"Well it's not very dignified, if you don't mind me saying Miss! Stretched out without even me drawers to cover me but it's comfortable enough!" and as if to test her bonds she agitated her wrists and ankles but could not get free. Lady Heather stifled a smile, there was a reason why she had asked Lynn to take off her bloomers but that would come later. She walked over to her and, placing a hand soothingly on the back of Lynn's neck, she asked,

"This piece of equipment, is it familiar to you at all?" Lynn nodded

"Why yes Miss, 'course it is. It's the very likeness of the one that that doctor ties me to…" Lady Heather Franklin smiled once more,

"Good. That's very good Lynn!" now she ran her hand gently down Lynn's spine and said softly, "Lynn, do you realise just how attractive you are? And I don't simply say that because you look like me. You are a very attractive woman, Lynn Hutchins and it would be a terrible waste for you to continue the way you currently do. In the same profession, I mean." Lynn snorted,

"Begging your pardon, your Ladyship, I mean Heather but there ain't exactly a lot else I CAN do." Heather's face clouded over and she sighed,

"No Lynn, I guess that's true but things can change. They really can. Remember what you said earlier about men wanting to fuck you because you were me?" the street girl nodded, "Well Lynn, it so happens that right now I need to get a Bill put through Parliament that will make women equal to men in law, that will give us the vote for the first time in this country and I need some leverage. I need sponsorship Lynn. Sponsorship from the rich and the powerful, from Lords and from Members of Parliament but I have tried every legal method of getting that sponsorship and nothing has worked, so now I have no option but to try the illegal!" she leaned forward and touched Lynn Hutchins lightly on the cheek. "I need help Lynn. I need YOUR help. I need you to continue letting men fuck you for money but in future they will all be wealthy men, men with little foibles but rich and powerful men all the same… but there is just one thing," she was so close to Lynn now that the street girl could smell her perfume, " I don't want them to pretend that you are me." she shook her head vehemently and bent down to look into Lynn Hutchins's eyes. "No Lynn, those days are over. No longer will they THINK that you are me," She brushed a stray hair from Lynn's face and still staring at her said quietly, "In future Lynn, I want them to actually believe it!"

Lynn Hutchins looked at Lady Heather in astonishment and Lady Heather, for her part, was very glad at that moment that she had taken the precaution of tying her down before speaking to her.

*

Liz Fisher adjusted her reading glasses as best she could with one hand and stared once more at her sleeping companion. It had taken Linda a long time to drop off, especially after last time, but Liz had asked the nurse who had taken over from Danni to close the blinds and eventually Linda's head had fallen back against the body of the chair in which she was sitting and her eyes had closed.

Liz wanted to move her left arm, it felt strange, there were pins and needles in it but she didn't dare shift it about too much. It seemed more comfortable in the sling it was now in, provided that she didn't aggravate it and for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours she was free from pain.

She looked down at the notebook she had asked Danni to get her from the hospital shop before she went off duty. Her writing was fairly atrocious but still legible. She looked up suddenly.

Linda was groaning again.

"Oh no Miss, do I 'ave to? That cock of 'is is a monster, it'll never go in MY fanny, surely?"

Liz tried to put the significance of what Linda had just said out of her mind, even if a monster cock would go down or even in, quite nicely at that moment and she squeezed her legs tightly together and concentrated on writing down every word that she uttered.

*

His name was Jake; he'd adopted it after watching Pulp Fiction. It wasn't his real name but he answered to it and that was all anybody needed to know. He's been a mercenary now for nearly 10 years, ever since he'd been dishonourably discharged from the SAS, a thing that still hurt him deeply.

Hurt him to the point that he only took jobs that were either against the best interests of the British government or that would embarrass them in some way. He glanced across at the man driving the van. A big, white South African called Willem who could only speak Afrikaans and knew literally ten words of English and then he turned and looked through the small window into the back of the van at the half a dozen men inside already wearing their ski masks and wondered just what motivated the rest of them.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ring tone of his mobile phone; it was on the dashboard in front of him, in easy reach.

He picked it up.

"Yeah?" the voice in his ear was easily recognisable.

"Call it off!" he looked astonished

"What?" the voice was not impressed.

"Don't play games with me Jake. I get instant obedience or I get dead people around me very quickly. Now call it off. She's dead, so there's no point in us killing her again, is there? " Jake could only manage a low growl.

The voice said,

"Take the other angle Jake, one less job is one less screw up and one less screw up means that I don't have to "uninstall" you or any of your "team", so be thankful and take those animals of yours to a bar for a while and bring them back here sober in the morning. You'll get a call out fee…. Understand?"

"Yeah!" was all Jake said as he terminated the phone call. He knew the rules but he didn't have to like them. He was about to turn to the Afrikaner when he realised that the van had already stopped. They were almost opposite Whitechapel Underground Station; the Royal London Hospital was on their left.

A fairly tall man with prematurely white hair, dressed in jeans and trainers and a body warmer covered by a hooded top, was standing by his door. Over to the right, a large, well-muscled, black man with a shaven head, wearing much the same, was watching the Afrikaner, whose face, even now, was twisting into a sneer.

The man was holding a small, black leather wallet in front of him.

"'Morning sir. DS Steve Archibald, Flying Squad. Over there is my colleague, Detective Constable Williams." He indicated the man with the shaven head, "'Mind telling me where you're going?" Jake wasn't a polite man. When you had his kind of knowledge and his kind of muscle you didn't need to be but he tried.

"Yeah. We took a wrong turn back there at Cambridge Heath Road, we're on our way to the Meat Market..." Detective Sergeant Archibald nodded,

"Would you and your colleague mind getting out of the van, sir? We're searching all commercial vehicles entering and leaving the area, following an incident last night. It's purely routine..."

Another person might have been worried but Jake didn't sweat things like that He was already calculating the risks and working out where he was going to be several moves ahead of this one. He turned to Willem and motioned him to get out of the van.

He pulled the fleece he was wearing just a little closer to him as he stepped onto the wet street. In front of him was an unmarked red car and the innermost lane, normally used as a bus lane, was lined with traffic cones. He couldn't see any other policemen or their vehicles.

It was surprisingly cold.

There had been sleet showers for most of the morning and the wind chill factor was high. The sleet was literally melting on his skin and the grey sky above was heavy with what could only be snow clouds.

His team were well trained because he, himself, had trained them and the two thumps he had managed to deliver to the partition separating them meant that they were to be ready. They should already be holding their guns as he and the Policeman walked round to the rear of the van.

Once the doors were open, they had two seconds to pick our their target and fire. Someone should already have reconnoitred the van from inside and been aware of the other policeman. Once the one at the back had been taken out, two snipers should then be able to neutralise the second and anyone who even attempted to help

After that they would get back in the van and drive until Central Station picked them up. Jake counted to ten in his head and then opened the doors.

Even he could not have anticipated what happened next.

Ivan, not his real name either, was in a crouch on the threshold of the van, AK57 clutched in his hands ready to take out the policeman with a single shot through the head.

Jake could only watch in mounting horror as a beam of concentrated red light from a laser sight flicked onto Ivan's forehead and stayed there. The rest of his team stood similarly transfixed as red lights suddenly seemed to blossom all over them, mainly at torso level.

He heard the cry,

"Armed police! Put down your weapons!"

He saw Ivan still taking aim and then he saw Ivan's head explode into a red mass of flesh and bone and brain tissue, some of which, even now, was splattering onto his face and clothes. He reached for his own semi automatic pistol, a Luger which he had treasured for many years, heard a shot and saw Willem falling to the ground, his stomach open and bleeding and the muscular black man falling to one knee and aiming at the others.

"Put the gun down and get on your knees!" he knew it was the man with the white hair but he didn't get on his knees for anyone and he pulled out his gun and felt the bullets that opened up his chest cavity and spent themselves against the rear of the van, burning their way into him as if they were made of fire.

As he fell he was surprised to see both policeman suddenly running away from the vehicle and it was only when he heard a slight click and he was engulfed by orange flames, flames that were rapidly followed by an ear-splitting explosion, that he had any true realisation of what had actually happened in the Whitechapel Road that morning.

THE STORY CONTINUES IN PART THREE

© Wallace 2005. The writer maintains the right to be recognised as the author of this piece. This is a work of fiction and bears no resemblance to any places, either real or imaginary or any people or characters real or fictitious, living or dead.

January 2005