The Box

THE BOX

CHAPTER FIVE.

In which Ally learns the ropes, Sarah shows remorse and Sheila does some unravelling.

The Hilton London Metropole stood huge, modern and almost anachronistic opposite Marks and Spencer in the middle of the Edgware Road. All shiny glass, immaculate steel and highly polished marble, it wasn't, somehow, the place that Ally had been expecting to meet in when Phil Bishop had phoned her on Monday evening.

"Hi Ally! How's it going?"

"Hi! I'm just great!"

"Sure? There's an edge to that voice I haven't heard before."

" Oh, anticipation I guess."

"You're worried?"

"Not worried…."

"Ally believe me, there's nothing to be frightened of. If I thought that you were going to come to any harm I'd call it off here and now. I've been doing these gigs for nearly thirty years…"

But it wasn't fear that was uppermost in Ally's mind, or even apprehension, she trusted Phil Bishop, she trusted the tall woman who had set this whole thing in motion and she trusted Vicki Chaudhari with whom she had been in constant touch since their first meeting nearly two weeks ago, well, trust was a relative word there. They talked on the phone every day but Vicki was refusing to actually meet with her until the Thursday when she was due to meet Phil Bishop and Lady Heather.

Games.

Everywhere you went - games.

Mind games. Head games. Call them what you will.

Vicki was toying with her, at least that's how it seemed, but after her upbringing, two highly thought of academics for parents who hated the sight of each other, doted on her, turned to drink to anaesthetise themselves from their highly acrimonious relationship and frequently made her a pawn in their own particular head games. After all that, Ally could play games at International level.

She stood now, outside the little chemist on the opposite side of the road from the hotel, fingering the strap of her shoulder bag and biting her lip. When she realised what she was doing she gave herself a kind of mental ticking off and strode across the road to her fate.

*

The inside of the Hotel was more marble and glass, offset by discrete lighting. There was bamboo in pots surrounded by designer pebbles. There were enthusiastic new arrivals. There were tired looking people waiting for taxis. One thing she didn't see or hear, to her exhilaration, were the fruit machines that seemed to line the foyers of virtually every hotel in every country in the world – except Britain. But it seemed to her, as an outsider, that she was living in a country that was twenty years behind the rest of the civilised world anyway, so the Poms had that to look forward to.

She approached the immaculate front desk and caught the eye of young woman about her own age. A young woman, who, it turned out, was also from a land down under.

"Hi!"

"Hi! Sydney?"

"Yougottit! Brisbane?" the attractive young woman waved a hand in front of her chest.

"Just outside but you were close enough. Don't hear much strine here, 'smainly Arabic!" She paused, women DO notice other women and Ally was already aware that the breasts of the receptionist were more than ample, not helped by the fact that her blouse had a couple of strategic buttons undone and her bra was, to say the least, uplifting. There was an awful lot of cleavage to be seen, Ally wondered whether it was real cleavage or the silicone enhanced variety, "You must be Ally!" Pleasantly mystified, Ally held out a hand and the receptionist grasped it warmly. Perhaps a little too warmly, but they were both a long way from home.

"I'm Tanya. The people in ten fifteen are expecting you and I've got to give them a call…" Before Tanya could say any more, Ally felt a presence behind her. She turned and found herself looking at the tallest policewoman she had ever seen. A policewoman who looked oddly familiar. Ally stared at her. Stared at her long and hard, but there were too many differences, she realised, hair colour, eye colour, nose a slightly different shape, but all the same…

"Miss Pearson?"

Ally was jolted back to reality.

"Uh huh."

"Miss Allison Pearson?"

"Yes, yes I am." She couldn't help look the woman up and down. Shiny Doctor Martin shoes, navy pants, white short-sleeved shirt open at the neck, body armour consisting of a navy Kevlar body warmer, extendible truncheon - still a truncheon and not a nightstick - and handcuffs. Bright and shiny handcuffs, with matt black inserts, in that very obvious little pouch attached to her belt. She wore her blonde hair short and it was piled into a peaked cap with the familiar chequered band around it. She was undoubtedly the most attractive policewoman that Ally had ever seen and not just because of the handcuffs but there was something odd about her and about the way she spoke.

The policewoman seemed to be taking stock of her too; of her shiny black PVC trousers and open toed black patent pumps, exposing the shiny black painted toenails that matched her shiny black painted fingernails. Of her black PVC waistcoat and her simple white silk blouse. The waistcoat struggling manfully to contain the fact that tonight she wore no bra. The hair jet black and newly dyed, the white streak at the front being considered too fussy for the occasion. Dark eye shadow, darker than the norm but bringing out the quality of her dark eyes. The intense, almost luminous, quality.

"Miss Pearson, I have reason to believe that you have information which may help us in a current enquiry…" That voice again. That not quite right voice. Like someone trying to speak another language. Yes that was it! Like when a Pom tried to speak like an Aussie, or vice versa. Or when an American tries to speak like a Brit! Dick van Dyke in Mary Poppins or the bloke who played Daphne's brother in Frasier, or Spike in Buffy. Not quite as bad as any of them but this woman wasn't English, she was an American trying to SOUND English…

"What enquiries?"

"The Policewoman stood her ground,

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that here but if you'd like to come with me…" For a moment Ally thought she was going to say, "mate" or rather "mite"

Come with her?

There was no way Ally was going anywhere with this woman. She looked behind the counter to Tanya but she was busying herself at the computer. She looked around, thought she saw sudden movement over by the lifts and then dismissed it.

"I'm sorry, Officer, I'm supposed to be meeting someone right now. But I actually work for a firm of solicitors, if you'd like to …" But the policewoman was speaking over her.

"In that case I have no option…" There was movement. The policewoman's hands. At first they were by her sides then they were behind her, then…

Then the policewoman took a quick glance around her and drew a breath like an actor preparing for a soliloquy. Her face became suddenly grave.

"Allison Emma Pearson… I am arresting you…" And then she was behind her, cuffs in hand, "…you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence…" She could feel or maybe imagine Tanya's eyes boring into the back of her head. "…if you fail to mention…" The policewoman seemed to be talking extremely loudly and it seemed as if everyone in the foyer was looking at her. A thrill like a charge of frozen electricity coursed through her body.

If the people in the foyer weren't looking at her just then, they soon would be.

She felt hands on her wrists. Warm hands. Gentle hands. Powerful hands. Then something cold on her left wrist, a click and a tug on her right as it was pulled to meet the other, then more cold and another click.

No longer distracted by what she was doing, the policewoman came round to face Ally and there was a definite smirk on her face,

"…something that you later rely on in court!"

She tried to move her hands but they were pinioned firmly and immovably behind her back. She tried to pull her wrists apart, the policewoman studying her intently, an amused expression on her face. Allison could see her lips moving and then hear her muttering,

"Goddammit! I forgot again!" The accent had slipped. Ally was no expert but she had friends in the States and that sounded decidedly West Coast. Then she was behind her again and there was metal scraping on metal and suddenly Ally felt very strange.

She had double locked the cuffs

If they hadn't been inescapable before, they certainly were now and she was definitely no Houdini.

She looked around the hotel foyer. At the people who were watching her. Watching them watching her. She didn't shrink away. She stared into their faces. Into the faces of women and children and men. She had a feeling that she knew what the men were thinking and looking at some of the blank, guarded looks on some of the women's faces she had a feeling that she knew what they were thinking too.

She hoped she could conceal her own thoughts behind the mask she called a face. The policewoman grasped her by the right forearm.

"This way please Miss Pearson," She noticed the officer looking at her, studying her still. Was she hoping for a reaction? She wasn't going to get one - despite everything.

How could they have known?

How the bloody hell could they have known? She was convinced that this wasn't real and she could guess who had set this up, or at least had more than a finger in the pie. But how did they know that she was currently living out one of her biggest fantasies and in the middle of a posh London Hotel for all that?

Paraded publicly in handcuffs!

It had sent shivers down her spine when she was younger and it was doing exactly the same for her now. If she had been wearing panties they would have been damp with anticipation. She had the public humiliation. She had the strong powerful OTHER woman. She had the people watching her. The only thing she didn't and couldn't have was the fact that in her fantasy she was naked !

And then she saw them and she panicked for a moment, afraid that she might lose it altogether. "What would the Yank say then?" She wondered idly. Over by the lifts. She could now see them clearly. Two men holding, not just cameras, but steadicams, recording the whole thing, and on either side of them, one man and one woman carrying what appeared to be long, large, furry caterpillars on sticks – boom mikes. All wearing nondescript jeans and tee shirts and the obligatory trainers. These were no amateurs; these were professionals, which meant just one thing. Her arrest was on VT. It had been video taped and could be watched over and over again. Phil Bishop and the tall woman had laughed and joked with her about her Big Day, Phil saying that things had changed a lot in ten years. The tall woman telling her that you'd really be surprised at the sort of stuff they showed on late night cable and satellite television these days…

Her stomach gave a lurch.

Something in the area of her abdomen was clawing at her insides like some kind of alien trying to get out whichever way it could. Her throat was dry, her head was beginning to spin, suddenly she wasn't just "damp" between her legs, she was sodden and her hands were shaking and her legs were trembling and the policewoman was leading her to the lifts and whispering in her ear through clenched teeth at the same time.

"Come now and we're screwed! Make it to the elevators and you can jack off as much as you like – I might even help. If you don't… I'll have to call an ambulance and the real cops and have you laid out on the sidewalk or something… and that ain't in the script!"

Ally looked at her long and hard. They were still walking. It was probably the longest twenty-five yards of her life. She had to concentrate on her walk and try to talk at the same time. Also through clenched teeth she hissed,

"Whose idea was this?"

The policewoman's face lit up like a sunny day, and her voice was as smooth and mellifluous as treacle being poured over molasses,

"Well Honey, I'll just let you think about that one, but let's say that someone suggested I should strip search you as well and if I thought that we could get away with that BS here in full view of a hundred or so people, then I'd have done it…you okay there?" It was a blip. Ally did her best to stifle a gasp as her spine tingled and her stomach did a number of somersaults. Over by the front doors, the doors through which people were coming and going all the time, two uniformed security guards were watching them.

They were getting close to the lifts, closer to the waiting camera crews when the policewoman suddenly did the unthinkable; she stopped dead and stared into Ally's startled eyes. The eyes that were doing their best to conceal what was going on behind them.

"You know Honey?" She whispered quietly, "There's something I totally forgot to do." That grin. That huge mischievous, disconcerting grin and although she wasn't a mind reader, Ally knew, at that moment, exactly what the policewoman was going to do.

She shook her head and a frisson of either fear or pleasure, or perhaps both, ran through her entire body.

"No. No!" Shaking her head over and over again. Not here. Not now.

"I'm sorry Miss Pearson," The "English" accent was back again, "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to search you!" Ally stood rooted to the spot. She didn't remember too much afterwards. It was all a blur, but she remembered the hands. The soft hands, patting gently down her sides, all the way down her legs and then being asked to open them. Open her legs and stand splayed with her hands still cuffed behind her while the policewoman knelt and ran teasing fingers all the way up her inner things. All the way. As far as she could go and then some. The hands fluttering between her legs whilst the policewoman stared at her. That grin still in place. And then for a moment, one vital fleeting, lip biting moment, one hand, a hand with long delicate pianist's fingers, came up, came up much further than it should and began to make it's way towards the zipper of her shiny PVC trousers.

They looked at each other for a few seconds. The blonde woman evidently loving every moment. Victim and prey, they simply stood and stared at each other. Ally knew what she wanted. She wanted her to beg. To beg her "no"! But Ally wasn't the begging kind and besides …

The policewoman stood up and they were both conscious of all the people watching them now. She stood up and made her slow lazy way behind Ally who jumped when she touched her again.

"Now honey we just don't know what weapons you might be concealing about your person, do we?" She whispered. "You never know, there might be something hiding in between those little TITS of yours!" She had no chance. The hands were there before she could do or say anything. "Mmm" The policewoman muttered into her ear, "Just like orange juice - best when they're lightly squeezed!"

She was standing behind her in such a way as to block vision from the back. For a moment, just one moment she felt the policewoman's crotch rubbing against her bottom and then she felt something else. A slap. A light slap. Not hard, but enough to do damage to the delicate grip that she had on normality. Her mind and her body recoiled and she bit her lip. She stood unmoving, trying to stem the rising tide. The rising tide of feelings that could only result in one thing.

The policewoman realised that she had pushed her too far. Grasping her by the left upper arm again, which didn't help her, she hissed in her ear.

"Hold on! Just try to hold on!" I don't want them filming this. Not right now!" And then they were half walking, half running towards a pair of white double doors. The security guards at the front door meanwhile, had their radios to their ears and were starting to make their way towards them. The film crews had also decided to do something and were moving away from the lifts and in their general direction.

The policewoman ducked left, pulling the hapless Ally with her. "Don't come yet sweetheart! Your Aunt Heather knows best!" and with that she dragged her out of the main reception area through the double doors and into a small, brightly lit but nondescript corridor.

*

They ran, literally ran, down seemingly endless corridors until finally they came to some metal stairs. The tall policewoman half helped, half dragged, the still handcuffed Ally down them and into the gloom below. Now they were in an area where the walls were just brick, there was a strong smell of disinfectant and the faint hum of machinery.

They were both out of breath, the policewoman took off her cap, wiped sweat from her brow and let out a long, exhilarated sigh.

"Wheee! I'll have to do that again some time!" Then she turned to her reluctant companion, "You okay kiddo? Creamed those PVC jeans yet?" Ally gave her an agonised glance, wondering whether or not to give her the satisfaction of knowing…

"No I haven't and it's no thanks to you!" They stared at each other and then the stares turned to smiles and the smiles turned to laughter.

*

"Bishop to Dom1! Bishop to Dom1. We'd be fairly interested in your position up here in mission control. That's if it's not too compromising of course!"

Ally stared in disbelief. She had seen the small speaker on the Policewoman's body armour, but she had assumed that a bogus policewoman would, of necessity, carry a bogus radio. She hadn't expected it to suddenly crackle into life at a fairly inopportune moment. Calmly the tall woman tugged at her lapel.

"Dom 1 to control. Subject and I are in position. Repeat, we are in position, but we have a little business to attend to first. Do you copy?"

The voice at the other end was crystal clear. So clear that the laughter in it was unmistakeable.

"Copy you Dom1. All work and no play makes Heather a dull girl eh?" Before she could reply the voice chuckled and continued, "Okay, but we need her up here by 19.30 and we need her in one piece please because I've got a producer standing next to me who's going to tear her hair out any moment and may need a bit of the old Bishop method to calm her down!"

The policewoman frowned at her microphone.

"You just put her down Bishop! You understand? That schlong of yours stays firmly in your pants mister, at least until we're alone!"

The voice at the other end suggested comic bewilderment.

"My dear Lady Heather, I don't know what you could possibly mean…"

"Zip it Bishop. Tell your producer lady she'll get her goods on time but I'll decide on the condition…Dom1 out!" Ally looked at the tall blonde policewoman now formally identified as Lady Heather, the partner of Phil Bishop, with a certain amount of apprehension. Especially as the lady in question was currently withdrawing something form her pants pocket. Something that turned out to be a small silver key.

She held it up for Ally to see.

"It's the key to one of the service elevators," She started toward her. "See, we were totally up front with the management here and we told them what we wanted to do. They were fine about it as long as we didn't compromise their integrity… and a coupla film crews on site swilling down tea and biscuits all day hasn't done their profits too much harm either. Their only request was that we do the real heavy stuff elsewhere. So after we get you upstairs and cleaned up a little," Ally raised an eyebrow, "Your friendly neighbourhood Doctor is going to take you somewhere where we can get you and the box all ready for your little trip." They were nose to nose now. This time it was Lady Heather's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"But first I want to have a little fun. Bishop and I, we have an arrangement that we can both play with other people, provided there's no actual penetration involved." She looked at Ally long and hard. "Now as you can see, I don't have the wherewithal to penetrate you Miss Pearson," Here she reached inside her body armour and began to withdraw something.

"But I DO have the wherewithal to beat that pleasant little ass of yours!" And she pulled out a burnished leather tawse that looked as if it had seen a lot of action in it's time and began to unbuckle the belt to Ally's PVC pants.

She leant forward and kissed her on the cheek,

"Now Honey, are you going to do what they ask in the movies and come quietly, or do I have to restrain you a little more?"

*

"What the bleedin' 'ell are they up to?" In Suite 1015 the tall woman with the long braided hair peered over Phil Bishop's shoulder as if staring at the small walkie-talkie in his hand would give her the answers she required.

Phil Bishop, whose face seemed to be registering even more amusement than usual took his feet off the desk, where they had been propped in an attitude of studied relaxation for some time and stood up.

He offered a hand to the tall woman.

"Linda don't fret. Her Ladyship assures me that everything is under control and I believe her!"

Linda Hutton looked down at the floor,

"Ain't got much bloody choice!" But this didn't nonplus the Bishop. He looked over to the plumpish woman with the streaked hair who was currently smoking her third cigarette of the hour.

"Linda, you've talked on the phone but I don't think you've met. Liz Fisher is the producer for Taurus Television, Liz this is Linda Hutton who helped me set this all up!"

The two women looked at each other, Linda seeing a pleasant face, tousled hair, jeans, boots and a fluffy pink jumper, Liz seeing apple cheeks, perfectly cut leather jeans on the longest legs she had ever seen, high heeled sandals, bright red nail polish, a low cut white top and a black calf length leather jacket. They touched hands briefly. Linda had a question in her eyes and it was obvious to Liz what she was staring at. She looked down self – consciously and took another drag on her cigarette.

"Oh it's okay! I scrub up fairly well. I'll be doing all the interviews, and a couple of pieces to camera, but a bit of slap, some lippy and my tits showing a bit more and I'll be fine!"

Linda smiled. All around them was the hustle and bustle and general mayhem that film crews tend to generate. The lighting crews were turning huge lighting umbrellas on and off with abandon, sometimes blinding the people nearest them. The camera men and sound people, back from their quest downstairs, were checking their equipment and drinking tea, whilst a couple of slim make up artists where working on a plump woman with fluffy blonde hair in a seat by one of the huge windows that looked out on to what appeared to be the whole of London.

Phil Bishop sidled up to his favourite Mistress, after his own wife, and nudged her in the ribs,

"Sarah's very quiet today, what's wrong?" Linda looked over at her companion then at Phil and then at the woman standing beside her who was just lighting her fourth cigarette. A cigarette that Linda secretly yearned for.

"Oh, she's been like this for nearly two weeks, and I'm not supposed to tell anyone!" The expression on Linda's face though, suggested that she would, if asked. Phil Bishop decided to push the boat out.

"Run up too many demerits has she, your Ladyship?" Linda did not smile.

"Yes, she bloody has!" She glanced at Liz Fisher who was trying not to look extremely interested and made a decision." "Look Liz you may not understand this…"

Liz drew deeply on her Silk Cut,

"Anything you can tell me about your lifestyle is interesting to me…"

Linda looked at her a trifle sceptically,

"Okay, couple of Thursdays ago, I let Sarah tie me up. Now when you do that, there has to be trust and Sarah violated that trust by sticking the biggest fucking cock up me that you've ever seen!" The Bishop smiled to himself. For once he thought he could actually see Linda blushing. Liz, meanwhile, had a strange expression on her face.

"Er, this, er, huge, er, "THING", she "shoved" it er…" Linda grinned,

"Up my fanny! Not up my arse! But that's not the point!" Linda, like Phil Bishop himself, was always prepared to explain the realities of what outsiders called BDSM to those very outsiders. She put an almost maternal hand on Liz's shoulder.

"See Liz, what you have to remember, is it isn't like the books or the films - not even Nine and A Half Weeks! It's about trust and talking it over and…" Liz interrupted

.

"I've read that book and he was really brutal! No soft focus photography there…" But both Phil and Linda saw a slightly far away look in her eye. When she noticed them looking at her she became mildly impatient, as TV producers tend to do.

"So what did you do to her?"

"Well, when she finally let me go…"

"Did you by the way?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you? Did you orgasm? Did you CUM?"

"Well yeah, but she'd been fucking about with me for nearly three hours and then dragged out this enormous great fucker that would have satisfied a fuckin' horse!" Phil Bishop looked out of one of the windows, unable to suppress a smile.

"Okay! Okay! So when she'd put the horse satisfier away and you were out of your straitjacket…"

"Chains!"

"Excuse me?"

"Chains. Cuffs and chains. That's what we use. Although I've got this black PVC strait jacket with a crutch strap that's got an attached dildo. The more you struggle, the more you manage to FUCK yourself! Course I'd have to chain your ankles first and you'd have to be naked…"

Liz was looking more than a little nonplussed. Changing the aspect, making it subjective, really seemed to have got to her.

"Er, yes, well, that's fine but er..." Sadly, she had to admit to herself, Linda was revelling in Liz's obvious discomfort. And excitement.

"But what did I do to her afterwards?"

"Yes, yes. What DID you do?" Phil Bishop thought her voice was sounding slightly strangulated. Linda moved a little closer to Liz Fisher.

"Good grief! If she gets any closer, she's going to be in those jeans with her!" It was an idle thought but one that made the Bishop smile even more than usual.

"I'll tell what she did, shall I?" Said a small unfamiliar voice from the periphery of the conversation. They all turned to see a smart, plump woman, with fluffy blonde hair, wearing a denim skirt, a low cut cashmere sweater, black knee length boots and very professional and very elegant make up. Belligerent would be the wrong word, but in the mood Sarah was obviously in, she seldom took no for an answer.

She stepped in between Liz and Linda somehow, facing Liz, blotting out Linda, her face a study of anguished annoyance,

"She waited… no don't interrupt me Linda Hutton! She waited until I was reading the menu for the Chinese takeaway because she'd already said she was hungry…"

Liz looked at her in a bemused fashion,

"Oh so you let her speak then…"

"Only sometimes!' She said with some force, "And then it's not always a good idea." A noise behind her made her whirl round, Sarah was trying to bore holes in her with her eyes

"Don't laugh at me Hutton, it's not funny! Two weeks I've been in this bloody thing, two weeks, two long bloody weeks…"

"I let you out." Said Linda stiffly.

"Yes! But only when you've tied me back to the bed again. And then it's just to wash me so I don't smell and to play with my…well, to er…"

"Oh come on Sarah, she's a bloody adult, she's probably played with a fanny before, or at least done it to herself!" Liz grinned and Sarah blushed. Seeing her discomfort Liz ground out her cigarette in a nearby ashtray and took Sarah's hand.

"Okay, now it's obviously something that's bothering you," She looked a little pointedly at Linda and back to Sarah, "So d'you want to start back at the Chinese menu or would you like to talk somewhere private?" Sarah seemed to have recovered and she said brightly,

"No. Some people have got no shame so it doesn't matter anyway!" she looked at Linda again and continued. "I was looking at the menu and I thought Linda was in the shower – but she wasn't – she was right behind me and she had one of her discipline helmets with her, it's leather and it's very soft and comfortable, but it's got a thick blindfold attached to it and pads over the ears and it's also got a pear. What they call a choke pear because it's pear shaped and leather and if you're not careful you can choke on it. And before I knew what was going on, she'd pulled the helmet over my head, stuffed the pear into my mouth, held it in place with a posture collar, that's a thick leather collar that holds your neck like a corset would your waist, and put handcuffs on me…you can imagine how comfortable I was…"

Liz seemed to be imagining and she looked far from uncomfortable.

"And what happened then?" she asked quietly,

"Well once I'd got over the shock and at one point I was so frightened I thought I was going to pee myself…" She was interrupted by one word – "Bollocks" - said quietly but vehemently behind her. She whirled round to face her detractor.

"I was frightened Linda! At first I was frightened witless. I honestly thought someone had broken in and I don't know what I thought might have happened to you!" Linda looked at her, at her earnest, hapless face and looked away, and then she looked back.

"Yeah, okay but I told you it was me as soon as I could…"

"Oh yes. Once I was handcuffed and hooded and gagged with that blooming great pear and unable to see anything and just about able to hear through those pads. And even then it was only when you'd started rubbing warm oil into my tits …" There was a stifled gasp.

"Warm oil?" Liz looked directly into her eyes and Sarah's face softened.

"Mmm. Warm oil. And she's warmed her hands first and then she smoothes it in, just touching my boobs lightly with her hands and it feels so luxurious and so nice and so relaxing… " Sarah's expression changed again, "And then I felt her hands somewhere else, somewhere they don't normally go until later, because she likes to tease me a bit first, and before I knew it there was something cold between my legs and she was locking that "thing" on me!"

"What thing?" Liz was lighting another cigarette and Phil Bishop had just popped a small cigar into his mouth. Liz lit for both of them and stared at Sarah, "What thing? What did she put on you Sarah?"

Linda met the Bishop's gaze with a little grin, it was obvious that Liz was doing her best to picture Sarah naked, handcuffed and hooded, then the Bishop saw Sarah's hands going to the hem of her skirt and inhaled deeply.

"This is what she put on me Liz, I'm not wearing any knickers because there's no point!" the hubbub in the room seemed to stop as if an unseen Conductor had suddenly cut the air with his baton. Suddenly all eyes turned to Sarah who had her skirt hitched above her waist and was wearing below it just boots and a shiny stainless steel chastity belt with a tiny, matt black lock.

*

"Are you really going to use that?" Ally looked into the face of her captor who had steered her into what a looked like a small and surprisingly tidy maintenance room. Lady Heather took off her peaked cap and laid it carefully on a work bench,

"How thoughtful! There's even a chair to sit on. And it looks quite clean!" She found a roll of tissue and dusted the seat lightly with it. Then she turned to Ally. "Tell me. Tell me honestly that you don't want me to, that you haven't been anticipating it since you saw my little friend here." She indicated the small leather tawse in her right hand." And I won't!" Ally looked at her in disbelief! The bitch! The complete and utter calculating bitch!

Damned if she did and damned if she didn't.

She looked at Lady Heather. Looked at her idly slapping the tawse against the palm of her right hand. She tried to struggle, tried to raise her arms but they were pinioned tightly behind her back and Lady Heather was looking at her with an amused smile on her face.

"Well Allison as you obviously can't tell me, it looks like I can proceed!" she walked forward and Ally stepped back but it was only a few steps before she felt solid wall behind her. There were wooden benches on either side and she knew that she was trapped.

Heather approached her once more and this time she could smell her perfume. Strong and heady it smelt like "Poison" and all the feelings that she had experienced earlier came flooding back as the tall Mistress reached out a hand and, in one smooth movement, pulled down her trouser zipper and began to shrug them roughly past her knees.

"Kick your shoes off Kiddo! Don't want you kicking me, do we?" Ally did as she was told; she kicked off her pumps so that she was now standing barefoot on the cold floor. Without ceremony Lady Heather pulled her trousers down to her ankles,

"My, my, no panties... and what's this?" She bent down to examine Ally's rich bush of luxuriant pubic hair, "Mmmm, so you're pierced as well! I just LOVE labial piercings!" She stroked her fingers up and down Ally's pierced lips, " The Doctor never mentioned these!" Ally said nothing but she didn't take her eyes away from the attractive blonde.

"Perhaps you didn't have them in at the time," She said thoughtfully. Ally remained silent, "Answer me dear, I'm not down here to talk to myself!" And although she said it quietly her face hardened just a little and she smoothed her hand upward, found the tiny ring through Ally's clitoris and gave it a hard tweak.

"Ahh!" Ally rose up on her toes.

"Oh come on! That doesn't really hurt does it? I wonder what it would be like if I sewed them tightly together for a few days, Miss Pearson? Or put a nice fine chain through them and some heavy silver padlocks, I mean, I guess I'd have to keep those little hands bound but it might be interesting…" She ran her fingers through Ally's bush once more and this time at least one slipped in between her moist lips. Her face broke into an enormous smile "Oh Allison you really are becoming quite damp not to say SOAKING!!"

Her voice seemed to echo round the small workroom.

"Well now, not telling that NICE Doctor Chaudhari that you had a pierced puss seems as good a reason as any to punish you, doesn't it sweetheart?" Ally's pulse was racing and she was all undressed with nowhere to go.

Lady Heather was easing herself upright.

"Now honey, everybody down here SHOULD have gone home, but we can't afford to take any chances!" She reached into her pants pocket and bought out what appeared to be a leather strap. A leather strap with something in the middle – a large, round, blue ball. "Gonna open for me honey?" There was silence. "Or do I have to pull on that little clit again?" Reluctantly Ally opened her mouth and allowed Lady Heather to push the ball gag firmly inside. She then raised her face, held it in both hands for a few seconds and said,

"I think this is going to do as much for you as it will for me." And then buckled it tightly behind her head, being careful to keep her hair out of the way as she did so. She stepped delicately away from Allison and seated herself on the chair that she had dusted earlier. She beckoned Ally forward.

"Now these are the rules hon. That big ball should quieten you down but you'll still be able to talk – a little. Now apart from counting every stroke I give you with my little tawse here, I only want to hear one other thing, okay?" Ally stared. Lady Heather stood up and reached out her hand as if toward Ally's clitoris. "Is that okay Allison?" She enquired a little more loudly.

Allison nodded her head. It felt as if every muscle in her body was trying to go into spasm. She felt so helpless. So servile. So deliciously humiliated, standing there, naked from the waist down, ball gagged and with her hands cuffed behind her.

The Mistress smiled.

"Good! Now the only other thing I want to hear is your safe word Ally. Your safe word is red. The colour red. Got that? " Ally nodded yes. "And the only time I want to hear that safe word is if I'm hurting you too much. Not if I hurt you, because my little friend here DOES hurt, but only if I hurt you too much, understand?" Allison nodded again.

"Good girl. Now get your ass over here, get over my lap and start counting!" And as soon as Ally was prostrate over Lady Heather's lap a series of sharp slaps began to echo around the small room.

*

He could not believe what was happening. Sheila had never made any secret of the fact that she had an oral fixation and although he was reluctant at first, for a number of reasons, (She had referred to him at the time as being the only man in the world who didn't know when he was well off!); he had soon become accustomed to it. But he had never ever expected this.

Not only was there someone else in the room with them. Admittedly someone who was, to all intents and purposes, blind deaf and dumb. But they both knew that they were being constantly watched and monitored by the spy cams in the box and in Bandy/Allison's discarded helmet.

None of this seemed to deter Sheila, in fact it seemed to be motivating her and even now she was on her knees, at his feet, rubbing her soft cheek against his rapidly burgeoning manhood and pulling lightly at the zipper of his grey fatigues. An inch and then another inch and then more cheek rubbing and he really wanted to tell her to stop but the events of the morning so far meant that he was begin to feel just as needy as she was professing to be and he prepared himself for the inevitable and put his head back and closed his eyes …

And she was gone.

He opened his eyes and she was behind him with a triumphant look on her face and in her hand she had some insulating tape and a pair of scissors and before he could say anything she was scrabbling forward on her knees, back through his wide-open legs and over to the box. And she already had two pieces of tape cut and was plastering them over the small lens halfway down the left hand side.

Then she was standing up and the image of that little Jack Russell jumped into his mind again. The little terrier worrying away, looking for more spy cams. She quickly found the one on the opposite side and then she was motioning to him. Pointing to the stereo behind him, making turning motions.

ON! She wanted the stereo on. If the stereo were on then the microphones that were evidently spying on them along with the tiny cameras would pick up the music rather than their speech and if the spy cams were disabled with tape…then none of it would work. Bandy's controllers would be as deaf and dumb as blind as Bandy herself.

She had picked up the two halves of Bandy's Helmet and was studying something inside it, whilst he had made his way over to the stereo and switched on the CD player. He saw her wince because they had both remembered, at the same time, that the CD he had left in there just happened to be "The Best Prog. Rock Album in the World – Ever!" But fortunately for him the first track was "Killer" by Van der Graaf Generator, which she happened to approve of and as the saxophones flared and she plastered the last piece of tape over the fibreglass helmet, she almost ran over to him and pinned him to the wall.

"Oh I really want to FUCK right now!" She sounded like a heroin addict who didn't know where her next fix was coming from. He wrapped his arms around her and smiled and hugged her to him.

"Much as I would like to…" But she stopped him. Stopped him with a light kiss on the lips

.

"I Know! I Know!" She turned her attention to the rubber doll standing motionless behind them, and then she looked back at him with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"So she's our little, rubber, sex slave is she? And we've got her controls now and they can't see what we're doing…can they?"

His mind was just ahead of hers as she broke away from him and headed purposefully toward Bandy and she had the controls in her hand before he could shout or warn her or Bandy or in fact do anything and already things that appeared to be inside the rubber mannequin were beginning to hum and already the rock steady motionless rubber doll was beginning to shake violently and small stifled moans were beginning to escape from her sealed lips.

TO BE CONTINUED.

© Wallace 2003. The writer wishes to be acknowledged as the author of this piece. This story is a work of fiction and bears no resemblance to any events or places, real or imaginary or to any people living or dead.