Chpt. 8.
"You're not just going to let him take the girl away from you are you!" Monique
had said. "When we were at university together I always thought you were the
kind of person who went after what she wanted. Now here you are letting the
American steal the girl you want!".
Angelique was hurt by Monique's contemptuous tone of voice.
"And what the hell am I supposed to do about it?" she asked plaintively. "Of
course I don't want him to have her, but there's not much I can do to stop him."
"You say he's going to take her to his house which is out in the country. OK, so
the first thing to do is to find a way of getting into the house."
"That shouldn't be too difficult. I know he is a very trusting sort of person,
he always leaves his office unlocked at the university and his car-keys on the
desk. I expect his house keys are on the same ring. I'll check on his timetable,
see when he has a 2-hour lesson. Then I can slip into his office, take his keys
and go over the road from the campus to the hyper-market. There's a Mister
Minute key cutter in the mall, all I have to do is have copies made."
"Great!" said Monique. "Then you can slip out to his place when you know he is
safely in a classroom with students, let yourself in and explore the house. If
anyone comes asking questions, you can always say that you are an estate agent
come to look the place over. What you need to look for is a place to hide until
he goes to sleep on Friday night."
"And what do I do then?" asked Angelique.
"You tie him up and play games with him, just like I'm doing with the guy
upstairs."
From there they had gone on to discuss exactly how Angelique should go about it,
what equipment she would need, and so-on. Monique had let her watch while she
worked over her client and Angelique had learnt a lot about administering pain -
and particularly sexual pain - without doing any permanent harm to the victim.
From there they had gone on to spend long hours in bed together, going through
the whole gamut of lesbian lovemaking, until the pair of them were exhausted.
Monique had almost forgotten to release her client, who had spent those long
hours while the two women were enjoying themselves writhing in agony as
electricity coursed though his anus and testicles.
On the Monday she had checked Mike's timetable, slipped into his office to take
his keys - the house-key was indeed on the ring - and had gone quickly to the
Mister Minute. In fact there were two keys on the ring that seemed to belong to
house doors, so she had copies made of both of them. The man in the shop didn't
ask any questions, for him it was pure routine, another mother wanting an extra
set of keys for one of her kids.
On Tuesday afternoon Mike had four successive hours of lessons, but she was free
so, having checked that he was indeed in his classroom, she drove out to his
house, brazenly parking on the gravel drive in front of the front door. The
first key she tried was the right one and she let herself in, closing the door
behind her.
The house was very ordinary, she thought, but quite big for one person living
alone. The ground floor and first floor were uninteresting, and there were no
good places to hide, either. She opened the door onto the stairs leading to the
second floor and went up. At the top there were two more doors. The first one
opened onto a box-room, full of old furniture, cardboard boxes and other junk,
all of it covered in dust. She tried the second one. It was very dark inside, no
window, and she couldn't see anything. She fumbled around until she found the
light switch. Bingo! The floor was littered with tools, pieces of wood and
furniture, some finished, some in the process of being made. On a table there
were instruments of various kinds. It was obvious that he was getting ready to
entertain Martine, and his form of entertainment was obviously going to be
sadistic!
Leaving the light on she went back to the box-room. It was obvious that no-one
had been in there in ages, with a bit of rearrangement of the contents she would
have an ideal place to hide. Being careful not to stir up the dust, she moved
things around until she had made a small rampart of old boxes and things, close
to the wall separating the box-room from Mike's torture chamber. She went behind
the rampart to make sure she would have enough room. To her delight she found
that there was in chink in the rough-hewn planks that made-up the wall; through
which she had a view of the adjoining room. The way she had arranged her hiding
place, only a carefully inspection of the room would betray her presence, and in
the state Mike was likely to be when he had Martine in the house, she didn't
think it very likely that he would have his mind on other things!
Her plan was quite simple. She knew that Mike was due to pick Martine up on the
university campus at 7 on the Friday evening. She would pull off the road in the
small wood near his house. When his car went by, she would run over to the
house, let herself in and get settled down in the box-room. After that, she
would have to play it by ear. She just hoped that it didn't rain on Friday, wet
footsteps in the hall would be a real giveaway.
Most evenings were spent searching the Net for ideas. She bought herself an
Adult ID and access to three big multi-sites, figuring male torture and porn.
From these she got a lot of ideas for what she was going to do to Mike once she
had control of him. Of course, she knew very well that she was taking a risk,
but in fact it was no more than the one Mike was taking with Martine, with the
exception that he was far stronger then her. She was going to have to be very
careful how she kept him restrained, but that would only add spice to the whole
thing.
On Monique's advice she wrote to a firm in London and bought a TENS machine from
them. It wasn't really very expensive and Monique had given her a demonstration
of just how devastating the device could be when used in the right way. After
what she had seen in that upstairs room in St Cloud, she sincerely hoped no-one
ever had the chance to use one on her!
She figured that this, plus the equipment that Monique had lent her would be
more than enough to punish Mike for trying to steal Martine from her - it just
didn't enter her head that Martine didn't belong to her in the first place, she
had an absolute fixation on the matter.
The only thing that could go wrong with her plan would be that Martine would
chicken out at the last moment and not show up on the Friday evening. She
wouldn't even know about it until too late, because she would already be holed
up the box-room when Mike got back, with or without the girl. Oh well, that was
a risk she would have to take, it didn't really change anything, except that she
would have to decide whether she wanted to go ahead and do Mike over anyway, or
just slip silently out of the house. She had a strong feeling it would be the
former!
And then there had been the meeting with Catherine. During the week prior to the
Easter weekend a small farewell party was help for a retiring member of staff,
and Angelique decided to attend. At the party she ran across a friend, Catherine
Ducros, whom she hadn't seen for some time. Catherine was a teacher in the
biology department, and when Angelique saw her at the party she was very pale
and her swollen left hand was wrapped in a large bandage.
"Catherine! I haven't seen you for ages. But you look positively ghastly,
darling, what have you done to your hand?".
Catherine smiled weakly. "I was injecting a rat as part of a experiment, but the
damned thing struggled so much, I missed and stuck the needle in my own hand."
"But that wouldn't make it swell up like that, would it?".
"Just the needle, no. It's what was in the syringe that did the damage. It's a
new product we are trying out. On me, the result was immediate swelling and a
burning sensation, as though someone was sticking dozens of red-hot needles into
my hand. It hurt like hell, still does come to that, and that was two days ago."
""You said on you. Doesn't it have the same effect on everyone?"
Oh yes, and in some cases even worse. I was just making the comparison between
me and the rat. Not to worry, we know the effects are temporary."
Angelique commiserated with her and they went on to talk of other things. Before
they parted, Angelique said that now they had seen one another, it would be a
shame to loose touch again, and that she would drop by the lab next day.
"So this is where you work. You've got quite a set-up here," Angelique said
admiringly the following afternoon. "Is this where you stick hypodermic needles
in yourself?"
"Yeah, but everything is OK now," and she showed Angelique her unbandaged left
hand, now looking quite normal with only a tinge of redness persisting.
"Are there likely to be any after-effects?".
"No, it's a fairly harmless compound, it's just that it has the irritant effect
on humans, that and it causes swelling. You wouldn't think, to look at it, " and
she picked up a small bottle that had been standing on the bench nearby, "that
this colourless liquid could cause so much pain. Fortunately we've found an
antidote which is almost instantaneous, I tried it on myself this morning and
the pain and swelling disappeared within half-an-hour. We're going to keep the
antidote in the open in case it happens again," and she pointed to another small
bottle on the bench.
They chatted for a while, until a lab assistant came to ask Christine for some
special equipment. Excusing herself, Christine went of to open the safe cabinet
in the basement, saying she would be back in five minutes.
Left alone in the lab, Angelique quickly found a couple of test-tubes and
stoppers, filled each one about half-full with one of the two liquids and,
wrapping them carefully in a handkerchief, put them in her handbag.
They had worried her for the rest of the day, those test-tubes, so
fragile-looking, lying there in the bottom of her handbag. She had been more
than somewhat relieved when she had at last got them safely home.
Three days before the event she woke up to find that everything seemed to be
going to pieces on her - the weather had suddenly turned very cold and there was
a light covering of snow everywhere. It was obvious that if this continued the
whole thing was off, there was no way she would be able to get into the house
without leaving traces of her passage if the snow settled. Fortunately the
weather changed again the snow started to melt, and by the next morning all
trace of it had disappeared.
Finally, on the Friday night everything had gone as smoothly as she had hoped it
would. No rain, no more snow, plenty of time to get safely to the house and up
to her hiding place. The only small problem had been carrying the bulky holdall
with her equipment in it, because it had banged against her leg as she hurried
though the dark lane. She had even installed a chair in her hideaway, no point
in being uncomfortable, the evening was probably going to be a long one.
She had held her breath when she heard Mike bringing Martine up the stairs, the
next few minutes were crucial, if she got through them without being discovered,
everything would be OK. If not - she tried not to think of what would happen if
Mike found her.
But, as anticipated, he was far too interested in the girl to pay attention to
anything else. The bulge in his trousers was ample evidence of his state of
mind, the filthy pig!
She watched silently as he fixed the almost-naked girl into position on the rods
on the dais and cut off her pants. She winced as she saw the wooden paddle crack
down across the cheeks of her ass, turning them a rosy hue with each successive
blow and she thought of how grateful Martine would be to her when she,
Angelique, rescued her from this brute.
The sight of the girl's suffering started to turn her on, just as the writhings
of the man in Moniques's upper room had done. She found that the girl's
completely naked body looked even better when she was tied to the upright steel
rods. When Mike massaged her breasts with the Deep Heat, Angelique's hand went
down between her thighs, where she found that her pants were already quite
soaked. As she watched, her middle finger crept down into the cleft between her
pussy lips and started that old, familiar motion, rubbing back and forth across
her swollen clit. It felt wonderful, and those breasts! The only snag was that
it was Mike's hands which were playing with them and not her own, not that that
was going to last, if she had anything to do with it!.
When Mike turned the upper half of Martine's body loose and she started twisting
around frantically, trying to cool her tits, causing them to ripple, Angelique
came. And came... and came! Aided by her diligent finger and inspired by the
sight of the beautiful, suffering Martine, the orgasm lasted for several
minutes. She was afraid that Mike would hear her rasping breath and was relieved
when he left the room.
It was strange, the effect that the pain the girl was going through had on her.
She had always been a fairly waspish sort of person, but now she was finding
hidden depths of sadistic satisfaction in herself she had never suspected she
possessed. She had first realised this whilst watching Monique torturing her
client in St Cloud. At one point, when Monique had flogged his cock, which was
stretched upwards by a cord tied at one end to his glans and at the other to a
hook in the ceiling, with a small whip made up of 5 soft leather thongs attached
to a short handle, it had been all that she could do not to speak, to ask
Monique to let her have a go. And when Monique had shown her how squeezing the
man's balls in a certain way caused him to scream, to try to double over, and
finally to faint, she had sworn to herself that she would try that on Mike. And
so she had, she thought to herself with satisfaction.
One thing did surprise her, though. She was lesbian, and proud of it, disliking
most men from a sexual point of view. And yet, curiously, the feel of Mike's
balls in her hand had been a revelation to her. She had had to steel herself to
take hold of them, expecting a feeling of revulsion, similar to that of handling
a snake. But in fact she had found them soft and warm, the sack was pliable and
it was interesting the way they moved around inside it under the influence of
her questing fingers. She broke off from her reverie, leant forward and took
them in her hand again. No, her memory wasn't playing tricks on her, they really
did feel most agreeable - pity that they were so hairy, but that could always be
changed. She squeezed them gently, watching the man's face, but Mike was out
cold and even when she increased the pressure there was no reaction. Pity, she
could hardly wait to start playing with him again. Idly, she chased one testicle
around inside the sack with her thumb while her thoughts drifted back to the
night's events.
She had watched Mike shave Martine - something she found incredibly erotic, the
sight of the girl's naked sex was really something - and then put the
sharp-toothed clamp on her clit. Whilst she was all for the shaving - she was
thinking of doing the same thing to herself - the idea of the clamp upset her,
or was it the idea that it was Mike who was doing it and not her which was the
trouble? She had enjoyed the forced-feeding routine; although she hated his
guts, she had to admit that he was very ingenious.
She had waited a couple of hours before creeping silently from her hiding place
and going across the torture chamber and into the alcove where Martine was
chained to the bed, fast asleep. She patted the girl's face, but there was no
response. With her thumb she rolled up one eye-lid, but it was quite obvious
that Martine was out to the world, and not likely to come round for some time.
She pulled the blanket off the sleeping girl. There was no doubt about it, she
really did have the most wonderful body.
Angelique sat on the bed beside her and put her hand on the girl's knee. From
there she slid it slowly, lingeringly up her thigh, rubbing the heel of her hand
across the freshly-shaven pubis. Then across the flat, soft stomach, across the
lower rib-cage until she came to the breast. She hesitated, and then started to
caress the creamy, soft, yielding mass of flesh. It felt so good under her
fingers, especially when she got to the nipple. This she stroked and tweaked
until it started to erect, which rather surprised her, given that Nadine was
fast asleep. The body obviously had its own agenda, which sometimes didn't take
any notice of whether the owner was around or not. She bent over and licked the
nipple, then took it delicately between her teeth and nibbled it. Still the girl
showed no sign of life. Angelique sat up and sighed. She was going to have to
wait until she woke up.
Next, with a great deal of care and carrying a small bag she slowly went
downstairs to Mike's bedroom. She stood outside the door for a long time, not
daring to go any further. If anything went wrong at this stage, she was really
in trouble. Finally, summoning up all her courage, she gently turned the knob
and went inside.
The tiny pencil torch she held between her teeth gave just enough light to allow
her to make out where the bed was. Going over to it, she saw that Mike was
sleeping on his back. Ideal. Very carefully she put the bag on the floor, got
out the pad and ether bottle and poured some of the liquid onto the cloth. Now
for the tricky bit. Carefully, oh so carefully, she stretched out her hand and
held the pad over his face, just a couple of inches above it. This would do to
make sure that he didn't wake when she made her next move, which was to press
the pad lightly over his nose and mouth. She timed the application carefully,
she didn't want to kill him, not that she was really very worried about that, it
was more that she didn't want to spend the rest of her life in jail.
Quickly, for in spite of the way things were going, she was still a bit
frightened, she buckled stout leather cuffs as tightly as she could to his
wrists and ankles, cords to the cuffs, and then tied him well stretched out,
spread-eagled to the four corners of the bed. She check and double checked the
knots. Only when she was quite sure that he was immobile did she at last relax.
The final task was to tape his mouth firmly shut with glass-reinforced packing
tape.
Monique had told her that part of the treatment she gave her clients was mental.
She dressed as sexily as she possibly could, showing the parts of her body they
would really like to get at, because she knew very well that this got them
terribly frustrated. Having a sexy body in full view while they were suffering
sexual pain just made it worse. Angelique had decided that she would follow
Monique's advice and do as she had suggested. Leaving Mike securely attached to
his bed and out cold for the next couple of hours, she went back up to the
box-room, carried the holdall through to the torture chamber, and proceeded to
strip off.
The big bag, besides having the equipment from St Cloud, also held the clothes
she had hired the day before from a shop in town which specialised in carnival
and theatrical costumes. First came a brassiere made of very thin, soft black
vinyl material, which seemed to mould her breasts like a second skin. A pair of
hot pants made of the same stuff came next, so tight that the material sank into
the cleft between her cunt lips, outlining them suggestively. Long, fine leather
black boots with stiletto heels for her feet and legs, and finally the leather
face-mask. Curiously, once she had put the mask on she felt a lot safer, as
though it was some sort of protection. She felt as though she was hiding behind
it, as if she was not really there any more,
Dressing in this way had a strange effect on her personality. Normally, although
she was lesbian and somewhat bitchy she behaved with decorum in public, as
befitted a university teacher, but here she suddenly felt both extrovert and
incredibly sexed-up. She rubbed her hands over her breasts and between her legs,
frantically, urgently, demanding release. She moved into the alcove and,
stilling caressing herself, looked down at the naked Martine. Oh God, why didn't
she wake up, the little cow! She's have given anything to have the girl's head
between her open thighs, her tongue licking busily away at her clit, poking its
way towards the opening, teasing, exciting, while she, Anglegique, caressed and
squeezed those magnificent breasts until her partner cried out in pleasure. But
it was not to be, Martine was still in the grip of her drugged sleep and
Angelique, if she wanted sexual relief, would have to find it for herself.
Feeling more and more frustrated, she went back into the room, rummaged around
in the holdall and came up with a vibrator. Quickly she pulled off the boots and
the hot-pants, switched it on and ran it over her pubic mound. She pressed it
hard against herself, feeling the vibrations penetrate her body, making it buzz,
making those hot, wet sensations flood through her. That was better, but she
wanted more. She slipped the instrument down into the gap between her cunt-lips,
gasping with pleasure, giving little mewling cries as the vibrating tip
stimulated her even more.
Further down slid the tip of the dildo, till it reached the opening to her
vagina. And slipped in, and up, filling it, sliding easily, for there was no
lack of lubrication, her juices were flowing copiously, she could feel them
running down onto the fingers that held the vibrator. She pushed the buzzing
instrument further up inside her, until it hit her cervix. She cried out as the
sensations ripped though her, her entire body flushing as she came in a
shattering orgasm that seemed to go on and on forever.
After what seemed like an eternity, as the sensations slowly died away, she
switched off the vibrator and slowly, regretfully, slid the now-dripping machine
out of her vagina. She sat down, momentarily exhausted. She'd better be careful,
she thought, that was twice inside a couple of hours, if she went on like this
she would never last the weekend. She wiped herself with a small towel that she
had thought to bring along for that very purpose and then pulled back on the
hot-pants and the boots.
Fumbling in the pocket of her trousers, she found her cigarettes and her
lighter, took one out of the packet and lit it. She drew the smoke down into her
lungs, the first for nearly three hours. The rush of nicotine through her
bloodstream was almost instantaneous, as it usually was when she had not smoked
for any length of time. She felt dizzy, light-headed, almost to the point where
she thought that she was going to fall off the chair.
This wouldn't do, she had better get at least a bit of sleep or she would start
making mistakes that could cost her. Taking the small quartz alarm clock with
her, she went down to the sitting-room, set the clock for two hours, curled up
on the settee and went to sleep.
