Bombshell

As if to evidence the fact she slipped her hand down to her crotch and I could feel the movement of her fingers against my leg. A slight curling of the shoulder suggested that she was reaching deep inside and then she brought her hand back into view.

I could see shimmering gossamer strands between her parted fingers and then, very deliberately, she began to smear her own nipple.

I needed no asking. No sooner had she taken her fingers away than I opened my mouth wide and took as much of her breast as I could before licking greedily. I used the flat of my tongue to spread the taste over the whole surface in order to appreciate its different accents.

She giggled as she hugged me tightly to her but now she wanted more.

"Wait.."

She eased me away and unwound herself from my lap. Standing up, she quickly divested herself of her jogging bottoms and then laid back down on the sofa with her back propped against the arm rest.

I was surprised by her presumption but she was hard to resist. She had a naturally lithe body and I suspect that she was one of those rare young women who did not have to worry too much about her diet. She exuded vigour and good health and you felt that you just wanted to wrap her up in your arms.

I started to undress but she took hold of my wrist.

"Please…I can't wait".

She raised her knees and opened her legs to reveal her sex which shone beneath the lights and I realized that she had spread moisture over the whole of her bare mons. The sight was, at once, wanton, beguiling and irresistible.

I eased down between her legs and took in the details of a tiny tattoo that adorned the mons itself. I fleetingly considered the pain of application but then saw its purpose. The image was that of a pale blue dolphin with a small red ball balanced on its beak. Only as I drew nearer did I see that the "ball" was, in fact, a cute birth mark.

I could not help but smile as I licked at it before working my way over her whole sex. It seemed impossibly smooth, as though a hair had never grown, and I was fascinated by the almost glassy texture but Corrine was growing impatient.

She parted herself with her fingers and the opening was surprisingly cavernous but what a treasure it held. The pink inner walls were glossed with the viscous product of her arousal formed of tiny, barely visible, dew drops.

No sooner were they revealed than the subtle scent was carried to me. The peaty overtone, that I now knew so well, dominated but there was also an indefinable freshness, an unspoken promise of abundance.

I began to lick, working my way very slowly over the steamy interior being careful not to miss a drop. A slight tremor in her straining fingertips betrayed her growing excitement and no sooner had I assayed the full extent of her sex than she was ready for me to begin again.

I think I could have spent hours savouring the warm sweetness of her but the continued touch of my tongue, faint as it was, was slowly driving her to distraction.

Her hair had fallen forward to cover her face but she dared not take away her fingers. She was breathing hard through gritted teeth and I favoured her with a firmer touch as I pressed my tongue deeper inside.

She was so tense that I could feel her pulse as her muscles clutched at me but I eased myself free and worked towards her clitoris. It was buried deep beneath the arch of her labia which hung like softly draped linen and I gently burrowed for it.

She gasped and stiffened at first contact and, thereafter, very little movement was required. I simply flexed my tongue in a slow, regular, rhythm keeping the tip in touch with the, still hidden, bulb of nerve endings that was now transmitting ripples of pure pleasure to every part of her body.

I knew that she was desperate to move with it, the awkward rigidity of her body told me so, but her need for the continued pressure of my tongue was greater still. As a result her orgasm was contained but in no way restrained. She gave a series of almost babyish yelps and her head bobbed uncontrollably as it waxed and waned before, at last, releasing her.

Her fingers finally lost their purchase and the curtains of her labia began to close but I kept my tongue in place and lapped up a fresh bounty. In the aftermath she was leaking copiously but this time there was no refinement. I used the bridge of my nose to break in whilst I licked fervently.

She remained remarkably still and I finally stopped to look up at her with a trickle still running down my chin. Her eyes were not quite focused but then she smiled at me in an unspoken thank you.

I rested my head against her thigh and, for the next quarter of an hour, I licked lovingly at her sex, coaxing more moisture from her, and then, when she was ready, I pursed my lips over her clitoris and slowly brought her back to the heights.

Her second climax took a long time to build, and I expected her to be more physical, but, if anything, she became more relaxed, allowing me to do all the work. She let it break over her in slow, languid, waves and I only knew it was over once she gave a deep sigh.

By the finish my own need was making itself felt as a pleasant ache and the temptation to make her go down on me was very strong but, with great reluctance, I had to give in to more pressing matters.

I eased my way up to lie beside her and I cradled her head in my shoulder and softly stroked her hair.

"She shouldn't make you do things."

"Adrienne is not so bad. It's Veronique that I don't like."

"Surely you don't have to do what she says?"

"Everyone does. She seems to have Adrienne under a spell."

"What exactly is that she does?"

"Who knows. She turned up out of the blue about six months ago and the next thing you know she has her own office and has everyone running round at the click of her fingers."

My mind was racing but I tried to keep my voice calm.

"So if Veronique asked you to 'entertain' someone..?"

"She's only done it twice. Once, it was for herself. I guess she was jealous of Adrienne and the second time was a few days ago, some professor woman…"

Chapter 6

Not wanting to arouse further suspicion I left Corrine as politely and expeditiously as possible. She seemed pleased and surprised that I wanted nothing from her but she was not to know that, having made my decision, I was sorely tempted to change it when, still naked, she bid me a coquettish farewell at the front door.

I considered going straight back to the office but the file I now needed could not be retrieved until the morning. I did my best to get some sleep but thoughts about the problem in hand, interspaced with delicious visions of a naked Corrine, made it fitful. After an hour I reached for my vibrator and did not stop until I was exhausted.

First thing the next morning I reported to Bullington.

"I need the 'Capped' file for Diane Denby."

Bullington raised an eyebrow. The existence of the 'Crucial Personnel – Personal Data' files was never acknowledged. The general public knew, or could guess, that in the event of a major disaster the government had plans to move key people to shelters throughout the UK. We shared a database with the police and the military which identified those people but, in addition, we kept our own data which gave a more detailed psychological profile.

Apart from a very few nobody actually knew that they were on the list and it was important to know firstly, that they would accept a place, and secondly, that they could actually cope with the doomsday scenario. I was willing to bet that Denby was on the list. She was the daughter of an admiral, a weapons expert and, most bluntly, a woman still just of child bearing age.

"I will let you see the file but it does not leave this office…"

This confirmation of its existence told me that her suspicions were sufficiently aroused that she had already checked for herself.

"…now tell me what suddenly makes the professor so interesting?"

Without elaborating, I told her that Adrienne had been offering favours to a unnamed female professor and, given what we knew, it seemed beyond the realms of coincidence. I then went on to outline my fears about Veronique. She had turned up on the scene just at the time that Adrienne's cousin had been taken into custody.

My theory was that, whilst Adrienne might be providing the funds and logistics, it was Veronique who was actually calling the shots and I felt certain that, unlike Adrienne, she suffered no pangs of conscience when it came to casualties.

The file arrived under armed escort and I spent ten minutes going through it in Bullington's presence. She was shrewd enough to see what I was up to. At that moment we had insufficient hard evidence to question anyone formally least of all Denby. I was hoping to find something in her physc evaluation to give me some leverage.

Bullington had already seen what I was now seeing and when I finished I could see that she had drawn the same conclusion.

"Are you sure you're comfortable with this?"

The concern in her voice was not just professional and I was touched.

"I'll do whatever is necessary."

I called on Denby that same evening at a west end apartment that was a little upmarket for a tenured professor but she came from a moneyed family. At the door I presented to the peep hole a police warrant card that accredited me with the rank of inspector but, to begin with, she was loathe to let me in.

"I'm a little tired. Can't it wait until the morning?"

"I'm just following up my earlier telephone enquires it will only take up a few minutes of your time."

As she opened the door I saw that her file photograph did not entirely do her justice. She looked a little younger than her forty-two years but might have looked younger still if she had worn her hair in a softer style. As it was, she had it drawn back in a tight chignon giving her a studious air which was exaggerated by her choice of donnish glasses.

She had beautiful brown eyes and, had it been me, I would have opted for lens but she must have been aware as she wore very carefully applied make-up which pointed them up as her best feature.

She was some inches shorter than me and had not changed since getting in from work. She was still wearing a stylish navy blazer over a pale blue blouse and matching skirt. It would have looked chic had she not dated it with the use of a simple string of pearls as an accessory.

She was vain enough to wear a reasonably high heel and, beneath it all, I had the impression that she kept herself in shape.

It took me less than a couple of seconds to make this summation but her survey of me took a little longer. Her mouth visibly dropped a fraction as she took in the pinched waist of my black jacket and the tight fit of my mid length skirt along with a pair of shiny, stiletto heeled, ankle boots. In truth, they were killing me but they had the desired effect.

She ushered me through to the living room and I took a seat on a brown chesterfield chair whilst she sat opposite on the matching sofa. At first I simply went over the questions I had asked previously but, as I wrote my notes, I made a point of leaning forward slightly.

I was wearing a button less blouse with a draped neckline and I had blown the budget on a ridiculously expensive bra which did wonderful things for my décolletage. Each time I looked up at her it was to find her guiltily averting her eyes.

I nearly had her where I wanted her but I decided to make sure.

"Well, I think that's all I need for now…"

"Please. I've been remiss. I've not offered you a drink. Can I get you tea, coffee? Perhaps something stronger?"

She had almost fallen over herself to get me to stay a little longer.

"I'll take tea and I'll use your bathroom if you don't mind."

"Certainly, in the hall, second on the right."

I left her occupied in the kitchen and went back out into the hall. I gave the bathroom a cursory glance but then sought out the bedroom. The first two rooms comprised a study and a guest room but the third was what I wanted.

The other rooms in the house were bright and airy but her bedroom was more sombre. It was decorated in dark blues and grays and was almost unnaturally tidy. The bed was very large for someone who lived alone and it looked like an antique. It had a black wrought iron frame with elaborately worked head and foot boards.

I bent down to check and smiled when I noticed the faint traces of wear on the corner posts. I quietly opened the drawers of the bedside cabinets but they offered up nothing of interest. I moved to the wardrobes, expensive, solid wood affairs with doors that opened easily on heavy hinges.

The first was filled with business clothes graded from light to dark along the rail and I quickly dismissed it. The second had more hanging space and shelves of neatly folded jumpers but at the bottom, sitting with the precise ranks of shoes, was a small steamer trunk.

There was a key in the lock and, as I opened it, I knew, almost certainly, what I would find. I was elated to be proved right but I was brought up short in my examination.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Holding to my role I studiously ignored her and, acting unfazed, I took out from the trunk a single set of restraints. I could immediately see that these were no novelty items. They were weighty, craftsman produced, pieces and they were nice to handle.

Still without looking back at her I put them to one side and carefully took out three identical pieces.

"Look, I don't know what you want but you had better leave now."

I stood up slowly and turned to face her.

"What I want is for you to get undressed."

She looked at me her face a mask of confusion. She was afraid but the terse edge to my tone of voice had excited her. I did not want to give her time to think.

"Don't make me ask again."

She wanted to flee but the darker, hidden, side of her nature was holding sway. At that moment I represented the epitome of her secret fantasy and she could not resist. She began to undress, hesitantly at first, but then more quickly.

Finally she struggled out of her pantyhose until she was left with nothing more than a simple pair of white panties. Her posture told me that she was shy about her body but she need not have been.

She was nicely shaped with breasts that would be the envy of a younger woman. They were rounded with proud, forward pointing, dark nipples. Her waist was narrow with nicely proportioned hips but, if one were being uncharitable, it might be said that her thighs were a little heavy.

She looked at me now more uncertain than ever.

"Did she send you?"

She could have been referring to her current dominatrix but I thought not. Her "capped" file summarized her web browsing activity. The words "submissive" and "lesbian" were amongst the most popular search terms, along with the more expected academic phrases, and her on-line credit card activity revealed regular payments to a very expensive, and very up-market, lady of the night.

The first hint had come from Corrine, the slight smirk as she referred to the "professor woman", the file had served to fill in the blanks. Now my line of questioning had forged the connection with Veronique and I was certain that Denby thought that I was an insider.

I simply ignored her question and I was tempted to make her remove her panties but I sensed that leaving them on was, for her, part of the ritual.

"You know what you have to do."

I was improvising and it was easier to allow her to unfold the fantasy on her own terms.

She bowed her head and came towards me. My heart quickened as she dropped to her knees and then reached forward to take hold of the hem of my skirt. She lifted it slowly, like a child expecting a particular present and desperately wanting not to be disappointed. When she saw that I was wearing stockings with garters she exhaled with a subdued gasp.

It was so tempting to ask my questions right then but I needed her drooling and vulnerable. She remained still for a few uncomfortable seconds and then leaned forward to place a single, respectful kiss on the dark, filmy, gusset of my panties.

I wanted to close my eyes and let her do what she would but I had to stay in control. In the event she released my skirt and got to her feet. She backed away from me and then draped herself across the bed her limbs pointed towards the corners.

At the outset I had no clear conception of how events might unfold. I supposed, at best, that when confronted with my knowledge of her secret she might simply break down but I had prepared myself to take it further if circumstances dictated.

I collected the restraints from the wardrobe and began to fasten them to the bedposts. They had bare leather cuffs at one end and velvet lined cuffs at the other. They were joined by a chromed chain with a threaded bar at the centre.

I took her wrists and ankles and secured them in the velvet lined cuffs which were adjusted with straps and buckles. I pulled them tight enough to prevent escape but, as she tugged at them wordlessly, I intuited that she wanted them tighter still and I duly obliged.

Now that she was restrained the purpose of the threaded bars became obvious. At the mid point of each was a heavy, knurled, brass wheel. I began to turn one experimentally and watched as the bar slowly shortened taking up the slack in the chain.

The workmanship was exquisite and the movement almost watch-like in its precision. I moved around the bed and quickly had all four limbs stretched.

I have toyed with mild bondage, as I am sure that most people have, but this was something of a different order. These chains would not succumb to brute strength and she was completely under my control, mine to do with as I wished.

For reasons I could not explain that thought caused my stomach to lurch and then my sex tingled so much that I ran my hand over the front of my skirt. I composed myself once again but I now found myself acting with a sense of detachment.

It was as though I was looking down on someone else as my hand reached out for the brass wheel again. Its weight was satisfying and it could be turned, without resistance, with a single finger and thumb. It seemed an insignificant rotation but it had a devastating effect.

She groaned and tried to adjust herself to accommodate the increased constriction but I was already moving on to the next wheel. Over the next few minutes I tightened each in turn by tiny degrees. She tried not to make any more noise, as though she feared to displease me, but the perspiration sheening her body told its own story.

I had to force myself to stop and I could see, for the first time, why this particular sexual byway had so many adherents. If the implements had been available I do not think that I could have resisted the temptation to try something a little more extreme. Her pale flesh formed a helpless canvas which called out for some colour but the contents of her toy box hinted at a different path.

I contented myself by softly pinching her nipples and watched her anguish as she tried not to move her cramped body whilst, at the same time, trying to get me to employ a firmer touch.

I was unsure whether or not she wanted me to touch her sex but it was clear that her own rules would not allow her to ask. What was obvious was the extent of her arousal. Her previously pristine panties clung moistly to her sex revealing a neat Mohican of dark hair beneath.

I knew that this was the moment to question her, whilst she was at her most helpless both physically and mentally, but the thought of something else that I had seen the trunk provoked the demon in me.

I went to retrieve it and, once again, I had to admire the expensive workmanship and I wondered if this was a bespoke commission.