Leaning on the Lamppost

Steve then played his trump card, a series of photos taken inside the building.

"Fuck me! How did you get these?" Stacey was well impressed. She then burst into laughter at the internal structure of the warehouse.

"This is going to be fun!" She pointed out a prominent feature to Nigel, who took a glance at the photo she was looking at and grinned

"Poetic justice!" He agreed

Steve explained how he had taken them.

"Managed to get in through a dodgy fire exit. Slack security. There's a patrol every hour or two but they're just looking out for squatters and the odd down and out. It steps up at weekends in case of illegal parties, otherwise it's pretty casual; there's nothing there worth nicking. Only two blokes and they're sloppy. Best night is actually Monday! Local pub has strippers on and apparently the guys like to take a little break after the 'busy' weekend! Quiet pub, talkative barman; ex-army." He quickly summarised

"So next Monday evening it is then!" Stacey announced

"Do we know what Terrence and George have planned for that evening?" Nigel was slightly concerned at the speed of events.

"Yes. Nothing so far." Stacey answered immediately and shot Nigel a worried look as his eyes queried the quickness of her response.

Steve said he would continue to keep an eye on the two bankers and left. Stacey faced Nigel.

"I'm sorry, you're not going to like this." She said quietly, continuing. "We need one other person to make this work."

"Who?" He was intrigued but the tone of her voice worried him

"Rose!"

-----

That lunchtime Rose had walked into Stacey's office mortified, contrite and barely able to prevent herself from crying. She felt, she said, like a complete cunt.

"He's such a nice guy. And you tried to stop me." She confided in the wine bar Stacey had taken her to for lunch.

"I was drunk, I got wrapped up in playing a role and just got carried away, I didn't know he sort of was too. He's not one of them at all"

She had been terrified about what might happen at work on Monday and had kept quiet about it and then Christine had started bragging to everyone about what they had done to Nigel. When Terrence had designated Rose his secretary and told her to keep on winding him up about it, she'd had to comply. "Terrence said what awful things would happen to me if I didn't. He could have ruined my chances for the future. He seems to have so much power."

She then completely surprised Stacey by explaining how she had always wanted to be an actor, had done acting at school, was into amateur dramatics and was hoping to go to drama school. She was working as a secretary at the bank just to keep her parents happy and to get some money and experience together.

"That night wasn't really me at all, I was trying out a role, you know; tarty ladette out on the razz, the prosecco pushed me too far, I'm really not that used to it! I got swept away. Now I realise Nigel was doing the same in a way, I wish I could explain and make it up to him." She explained in a voice a million miles from the silly nineteen-year-old Stacey thought she was talking to.

"I think I know exactly how you can help" Stacey said thoughtfully.

-----

Nigel spluttered and looked warily at Stacey; the mere mention of Rose had become a trigger to both of them. He remembered the first time he'd spanked Stacey. That cheered him up a bit!

Stacey explained further. "She's good Nigel. She can do accents, voices, be a slut or a princess and... She runs diaries for both Terrence and George! She has details of who they see, who contacts them and stuff it would take us months to compile. They just see her as a silly, common little secretary and are much more unguarded around her than anyone else at the bank. She's much smarter than they give her credit for, and she hates them!"

"OK. If, you're sure." Nigel grudgingly agreed.

"I trust her, there's a strength in her I hadn't noticed before." Stacey said contemplatively.

-----

FRIDAY

The Breakthrough.

Friday passed in a flurry of information gathering, Rose came up with a name: Sophie Armstrong.

"She's sort of John Cavendish's secretary, more a personal assistant, she fields his calls, she's the one you get put through to if he's out." Rose explained and followed up with a voice that she said was as near as she could remember to Sophie's. "I've only spoken to her once and I don't know if she's ever spoken to Terrence or George."

"Great, that's our way in." Stacey agreed and they drew up a script.

-----

That night Nigel and Stacey lay cuddled up together sweaty, naked, and exhausted in the cosy intimacy of Stacey's single bed and she kissed him gently.

"I'll hang back in London tomorrow morning, join you back at the house later. I have to go shopping with Rose, there's a few things we've got to get. Is it Ok if I tell her about us?"

"I suppose so. I don't want her thinking my cock's still up for grabs! Unless, of course, you fancy a threesome!" Nigel teased

"You're not going to be able to sit down for a week after I've finished with you! Don't forget it's my turn!" Stacey rolled him over and stroked the fading welts on his bottom. "Not long now before you're ready for another thrashing!" she scolded, meanwhile strangely intrigued by what he had just said.

-----

SATURDAY

The Shopping Expedition.

She met up with Rose in the morning, and they worked out what things they would need and where they could get them over cakes and coffee in a tea shop in the centre of town. Rose proved far more knowledgeable about theatrical costumers and dance shops than Stacey had given her credit for and impressed Stacey with the amount of thought and detail she had put into the plans for Monday. It was going to be quite a production! They got the tube back to Mile End, laden with bags and accessories and spent the early part of the afternoon trying on costumes and experimenting.

"So, are you and Nigel together?" Rose suddenly asked sounding like she expected to be disappointed. They had just stripped down to their panties to try on their costumes and Stacey had been furtively enjoying the revelation of Rose's pale delicate skin and pert young breasts. She guiltily looked away, confused by the reason for Rose's question despite having already decided to tell her.

"Yes, the day after. He was badly shocked by it you know. We just bonded. He's still ambivalent about you! I think he likes you but..." Stacey smiled remembering the spanking.

"I think he still wants to punish you! He can be very unforgiving; you may still have to atone for what you did to him." She shivered with a sudden thrill at the memory of the strapping

"Pity, I sort of liked both of you, now your together I can't have either of you!"

Stacey had just slipped off her panties and as Rose said this she blushed, realising Rose was staring unashamedly at the smooth skin below her waist.

"Wow, that looks so cool! So silky, and sexy. I've never been brave enough to completely shave everything off"

Rose's voice faltered as she plucked up the courage to say what was on her mind without unnerving Stacey.

She took the plunge.

"Er... do you mind, I mean, can I touch it, er, you?" She stuttered, flushing scarlet, unable to tear her eyes away from Stacey's plump and ripely inviting mound. Stacey was shocked and totally caught by surprise but found herself curiously thrilled by the request and after a tense pause, she hesitatingly nodded.

Rose softly brushed the back of her hand across the smoothly shaved skin and a fingernail dipped briefly into its central cleft catching Stacey's clitoris with the lightest of touches. Stacey gasped.

"Sorry, my nails can be a bit sharp" Rose misread the gasp. Stacey shook her head and without hesitation took Rose's hand, reversing it, and firmly pressing it to cup between her legs. Rose's index finger slid out of sight, as Stacey instinctively opened her legs to allow it to part the soft wet inner lips.

Rose smiled, and grasped Stacey's free hand, guiding it down to the elastic of her cotton floral print panties. She breathed in and the elastic bridged across her hips, allowing Stacey's hand to slip beneath the fabric and to the silky curls below.

"I can't have either of you but maybe I can still have both of you!" She whispered as she slid the hand down Stacey's back.

Her hand ran across the now receding ridges the strap had cut into Stacey's bottom, and she looked at her quizzically, and then understood.

"I guess I'll just have to do my atonement!" she smiled ruefully with realisation at what that might mean as Stacey let out a contented sigh and flooded her probing fingers.

-----

"Nigel" she said, not sure of the reaction. She was back in Tonbridge now.

"I... fooled around a little with Rose this afternoon, we were trying on stuff, and got naked, it just sort of happened."

Nigel nodded in quiet acquiescence; he'd enjoyed imagining something like this happening. Thinking of these two alone with each other trying on sexy outfits had turned him on!

"She understands that she needs to be punished... and wants both of us!" Stacey smiled at the thinly disguised excitement in Nigel's eyes

They went to bed and their lovemaking had a conspiratorial urgency they had not known before.

Monday was going to be fun.

-----

SUNDAY

The Van Man.

They travelled out to Ilford again the next day and had lunch with Nigel's parents. Steve made one his rare visits, and as Nigel's dad fell asleep in front of the football and Betty kept an eye on the roast potatoes, Steve took them outside and showed them his new van. He'd been planning to get one for a while and they had given him the money to make the purchase.

"It's going to be useful over the next day or two if you don't mind ferrying us all about a bit." Stacey had told him, giving him a list of extra things, they needed more in his line of expertise.

"No sweat, it's handy for me too." Her brother was already looking forward to the next day and he examined the list with a wicked glint in his eyes

Later he deposited them back at Stacey's flat and they loaded the van up with bags.

-----

MONDAY 1

The Cat, The Devil and The Man in Black.

George was puzzled. He climbed out of the Porsche as Terrence pulled in next to him. Sophie's voice had sounded quite urgent and slightly odd. Terrence joined him and they both stood looking at the warehouse silhouetted starkly against the darkening sky. John was already in the building she'd told them, there had been some new development and John had news that would benefit them all. It all sounded a bit, well, theatrical, a tad lame and completely out of character for the usually overly cautious John. They were both a bit suspicious but in the end their greed had overcome their suspicion and they had walked in through the entrance politely ushered in by the alert and respectful young... what exactly?

They both assumed he was some added layer of security, he certainly looked like he could handle himself and although neither of them recalled seeing him before he definitely looked like he would fit in comfortably amongst the more ruthless looking members of John's crew.

He opened the inner doors that led from the reception to the warehouse shop floor. There were lights on in the floor manager's office in the corner and they walked slowly towards it.

Good evening gentlemen, a male voice disturbingly familiar but not quite identifiable greeted them and a figure clad in black combat trousers and a black polo necked sweater walked towards them. The face was obscured by a sinister black balaclava, and he appeared to be holding a handful of strong cable ties.

"Oh fuck!" Terrence shouted angrily, sensing the danger and both he and George turned to see the larger-than-life muzzle of a rather business-like revolver pointing straight at them.

"It you could just follow my friend Gentlemen; I would be so obliged!" The respectful security chap smiled politely at them, leaving no confusion however as to what might happen should he not be obliged.

Terrence walked to one of the impressive iron columns that supported the roof of the warehouse and was pushed gently backwards up to it. The dark clad figure took his arms and pulled them around the column securing them with cable ties. His legs were clamped together and fastened securely. The columns were cast iron relics of the industrial revolution, rusty with decades of paint layers peeling in sharp flakes. They had horizontal bands at intervals all the way up, not unlike a lamppost he thought worryingly. Terrence was unable to slip down or kick out.

George was similarly secured to a column a few feet away.

What happened next was so bizarre as to render any recounting of it so unbelievable that to do so would simply invite ridicule.

That was totally deliberate.

Two lights came on and both Terrence and George were centred in a pool of bright illumination.

Oh, and then there was The Cat. Actually, though it wasn't. A pale girl dressed in a tight white leotard with white boots, a long fake fur white tail and a cat mask complete with ears, cat's nose, whiskers, and tiny white, pink soled ballet shoes pounced out of the darkness and began stalking lightly around the two captive figures. Two bright green eyes surveyed them both from the anonymous cat face with a predatory gleam.

"Kitty smells man meat!" the soft high voice mewed as the strange creature approached them and ran its nose up each groin in turn.

Suddenly George found his trousers sinking down his legs as dextrous fingers with ridiculously long nails undid his belt and zip. His shorts were raked down by nails so sharp he felt them biting into his skin.

"Kitty sees mousey!" A triumphant yowl! A single long fingernail slowly traced a short but nerve-wracking journey along the length of George's exposed penis. He whimpered pitifully.

That was when the music started. George Formby's "Leaning on the lamppost" echoed unnervingly around the warehouse. It continued around and around on an endless loop in jovial banality. Somehow in this situation its tinny tone just seemed eerie and horribly sinister.

Terrence watched and listened with at first an expression of amusement, then consternation, and finally abject terror. He blustered, he threatened, he cajoled, he begged. Then it was his turn.

The Cat prowled up to him and pushing a twitching feline nose in his face, suddenly declared in a screeching crescendo.

"Kitty wants feeding... Kitty wants cream!" Terrence quailed at the contact and then looked around desperately for its return as The Cat prowled disconcertingly out of sight.

He winced as suddenly his trousers slid down his legs and then struggled frantically as his underpants were slowly inched down.

The Cat was unimpressed.

"Kitty doesn't like little fishy; Hiss!" Terrence thrashed backward as sharp nails lifted his penis and a rasping tongue licked wetly along it.

"Kitty wants cream!" The Cat screeched again impatiently, and fierce fingers gripped Terrence's penis and nails raked his balls. The hand started moving up and down rhythmically. The warm leotard clad body pressed up against Terrence, undulating with unfulfilled promise against his bare skin as the fingers increased their tempo and the nails scraped against vulnerable flesh.

"Does man not like warm pussy? Pussy just wants to be stroked!" The Cat nuzzled and rubbed against Terrence, the thinness of the leotard making its contents irresistibly apparent.

That did it. Terrence came in a spurt that almost reached George who was by now practically hysterical.

As The Cat sashayed across the intervening space. George's eyes became like saucers.

"Kitty hungry! Kitty eat mouse!" George screamed and without any further delay The Cat closed its jaws round George's shy rodent.

George screamed and his totally confused penis floated in the warm saliva and slowly grew defiantly erect, a flurry of irresistible flicks of The Cat's tongue later and it ejaculated the cream she had requested into her mouth. The Cat licked her lips and paws appreciatively and then casually, without swallowing, rose and spat it all back into George's face.

George stared out blankly from a mask of saliva and his own cum.

The music faded slowly to be replaced by the disturbingly hypnotic rhythm of faint tapping.

It slowly approached, growing louder.

Terrence and George were just entering a post ejaculation state of uneasy calm. Surely that was it, what else could possibly happen? Both had come separately to the same conclusion about what this was all about and were settling down to the realisation that they had respectively been given a hand job and a blowjob by a possibly attractive young girl dressed as a cat. Ok, the circumstances had been a tad over melodramatic, and yes, admittedly, fucking scary, but altogether not without enjoyable aspects.

The introduction of this new unexpected development was fast dispelling their short-lived satisfaction.

The man with the gun and The Man in Black emerged from the darkness, and after freeing each captive's hands, spun them around to face the column and then secured them with cable ties again.

Suddenly out of the darkness a new figure emerged. Oh shit! they both thought simultaneously.

The Devil!

The scarlet red figure of a girl approached out of a swirling cloud of acrid red smoke patiently tapping a leather riding crop into a red gloved hand. The eyes malevolently peered from a slit in a red velvet mask resplendent with horns. A wicked and vicious looking grin was painted across the bottom of the mask. A long-forked tail hung from what appeared to be a painfully tight red one-piece bathing suit that clung to her curves so closely the slit between her legs and her unmistakeably erect nipples were mesmerizingly apparent. Thigh length red leather boots completed the ensemble.

She was joined by The Cat, who as she walked out into the light could be seen to be flicking a cruel looking, leather-bound wooden handle from which hung nine strips of oil-soaked leather. Both figures approached Terrence and George with deliberate measured steps and stood menacingly, mere inches away inspecting the now re-terrified couple.

"Kitty has nine tails!" The Cat purred malevolently draping a bundle of bootlace like leather strands over George's shoulder and neck and letting him smell the oil that had had lent considerable weight to each strand.

The screams of terror that echoed around the beams of the old warehouse startled even the pigeons, who roosting quietly above, had so far had only stirred slightly during George Formby, rustled restlessly during The Cat, and now frantically flapped into flight. They promptly splattered the captives with a new layer of organic humiliation.

The Devil and The Cat walked around the vainly wriggling pair hugging their respective iron columns, and for several long ominous minutes were out of sight to the squirming and whimpering pair of bankers.

The first sudden blow of the riding crop cut into Terrence's buttocks with a searing shock that led him to think for a moment that he had been cut in half. He screamed again and pressed his limp penis into the rusty, cold and paint flaked column with an urgency he only ever usually managed during his infrequent short and selfish sexual couplings.

Within minutes his buttocks were cruelly striped with a dozen angry red tramlines, a couple of which were flecked with small spots of blood. He hung limp and broken.

George was crying, pleading, and begging. He confessed to everything, he apologised for everything, in the vain hope one of his misdeeds would be the right one. He offered money, he offered power, he offered Terrence.