Syracuse is Waiting

I held a breath and then applied myself. As I scanned the surface of her skin with my tongue I was surprised by the firm texture of the muscle opening which was not unlike an erect nipple but it was with relief that I found it totally unyielding; there was no way I could do as she wanted.

"Do it!"

There was almost a hint of desperation in her tone but nevertheless it was a terse order and it had the desired effect. I pushed more firmly and was shocked to feel the opening relax for an instant and then pinch at the tip of my tongue. I flinched away momentarily but quickly tried again. In the next few seconds I was put in mind of a boa constrictor swallowing prey. As I pushed with my tongue she opened up to greet me and once past the tight portal it was drawn in and slid easily the rest of the way.

"Oh God!"

She could not believe that I could actually be brought to do it and now I could feel her internal muscles pulsating with pleasure. We stayed frozen for a few seconds, me with my tongue rooted deep inside, and she reveling in her new found power.

The taste was not as bad I feared. It was slightly musty, like stale bread, but my senses were being slowly overwhelmed by her reeking sex.

"Deeper!"

I tried. I sealed my mouth to her and stretched my tongue until it felt as though it would be pulled out by the root but she was heedless of my suffering. She had her fingers on her clitoris and, as she rubbed ever more quickly, a steady trickle of moisture leaked from her and found its way inexorably into my straining mouth.

Fortunately, the novelty of this new excitement quickly brought her to the edge but, as she started to come, my tongue was squeezed more persistently than an empty toothpaste tube. She did not release me until she was completely spent by which time, perversely, my tongue felt twice its normal size.

"Was that as good as it looked?"

"It was incredible."

"Then perhaps I had better try it ...."

Chapter 5

The journey back passed almost in silence. I wanted to have it out with her but I could not trust myself not to break her neck, assuming that that particular urge had not already been suppressed. Vikki spoke just once and I took her question as rhetorical.

"How could you have done that to that poor girl?"

The mention of Dawkins reawaked my fears about the depth of my conditioning. I had been trained to remember faces and yet her identity had been veiled from me until Katrina had chosen to reveal it. I was also fearful of the fact that they had made me act with only indirect commands. Just how far could they take me?

I dropped Vikki at her flat and drove off without a goodbye. I already had the outline of a plan in mind and I wanted to get started.

At home, the first thing I did was to turn off the phone and then I began to pack. I was going to book a ticket to France first thing in the morning and, once there I would do my research. I knew that Katrina had told the story of the guy who had tried to undo his conditioning as a warning but the sort of person I had in mind would not be found in the yellow pages.

I went to bed early and fell off to sleep quickly but after a couple of hours I awoke. I felt an urge and my first instinct was to head for the bathroom but once there I could not use the toilet. Only as I caught sight of Katrina's confounded contraption sitting on the shelf did I realize what the urge really was.

I closed the door and went back to bed determined to ignore it but after another hour sleep would still not come. I felt fidgety, agitated and felt unbearably hot. These feelings were purely physical and I could get the better of them but the trouble was that I was going to need all my faculties over the next day or two and insomnia was not going to help.

In the end I did the only rational thing I could. I went back to the bathroom, filled the device, and for the next hour I put my aching tongue back to work.

I went back to bed and slept until six a.m. After a quick shower and shave I phoned for a taxi and by seven I was queuing for a ticket. I had just a few minutes to spare which gave me time for the one phone call I needed to make. I dialed impatiently and then realized my mistake.

"Syracuse is waiting."

I could not believe what a fool I had been. I tried to cut the connection but the phone seemed glued to my ear and my hands would not cooperate.

"I hope you didn't get too far. I need you to do a personal favour for my cousin. Here is what I want you to do..."

It seemed perfectly natural to me to kill the next four hours sitting on the concourse. I had some breakfast and then bought myself a newspaper and a paperback. At exactly eleven a.m. I went outside and found myself a taxi

The journey was long and expensive and took us out into open countryside. We finally pulled up at an impressive pair of security gates through which I could see a tastefully appointed Georgian house off in the distance. The guard at the gate would not let the taxi go any further and so I unloaded my luggage and dumped it unceremoniously at the gate house before proceeding on foot.

A, broad, well kept gravel road led the quarter mile to the house itself which, judging from the number of windows, probably ran to eight bedrooms or more. Once at the front door I tugged on the old fashioned bell pull and was mildly disappointed when I heard a very modern bell sounding somewhere in the depths of the house.

After a second pull the door had still not been answered and I decided to try the back of the house. The ground fell away to the rear and in the near distance there was a paddock in which someone on horseback was practicing over a very professional set of jumps. The rider caught sight of me and raised an arm to acknowledge my presence; two minutes later the horse was cantering towards me.

The rider, fully kitted out in red hunting jacket, jodhpurs and riding boots, pulled up a few yards short.

"Follow me to the stables."

The voice was female and the tone peremptory and I walked after her retreating form as she trotted across to a small, modern, stable block that stood apart from the house.

I arrived just as she was dismounting and she paused for an instant longer than necessary as though she could feel my gaze fixed on her impressive seat. She unfastened her riding helmet and set it down before shaking out an impressive mane of dark curls. This had to be Katrina's cousin. The family resemblance was there. She had the same dark eyes and full mouth but the face that I was now looking into was familiar in an altogether different way.

She must have been in her forties but she still was still the same arresting beauty that my father had ogled on a Saturday evening as he tuned in to his favourite detective show. She smiled as she saw the look of recognition in my eyes.

"Katrina wasn't lying. You're quite a specimen"

As she spoke she picked up a crisp towel, took a seat on a straw bail, and patted her glowing face.

"Come and help me with these boots.

I knelt down and she lifted up her leg so that I could get a purchase on the expensive leather.

"Why am I here?"

"Were you not told not to speak unless spoken to?"

The answer was that I had not been but my mind was already interpreting her question as a desire and I was struck silent.

As I tugged off the boots I thought about running but I immediately felt a wave of guilt, a feeling that I was letting her down. With her boots removed she stood up and unfastened her jodhpurs.

"Help me with these."

It was no easy task. The material was skin tight and she had been perspiring. I had to work them down her legs by degrees whilst trying to ignore the fact that she was not wearing panties.

"You know what they say about women on horseback, what a turn on it is? Well they are absolutely right. I've already come once but now you're available..."

She sat back down on the bale with her legs brazenly spread and I was left to ponder the exchanges that had brought us to this point. Had Katrina simply picked up the phone and told her cousin that she could provide a man who would do anything she asked? Surely, her cousin would have considered it a joke? But here she was waiting expectantly as though it were her natural birthright.

For a fleeting second I thought about standing up and forcing myself on her but I knew, full well, exactly what was expected of me. I leant in towards her and the whole atmosphere was equine; the smell of fresh straw, leather and saddle soap, and the fact that her sex was demarked by a narrow mane of dark hair.

That she was aroused could not be in doubt. Her inner thighs were hot and flushed and her labia looked tired but at the first touch of my tongue they began to sleepily unfurl as they found their second wind.

"I like that..."

Her will was my command and I carried on licking along her prominent lips pausing occasionally to draw them gently into my mouth. The taste was almost rank, a mixture of her essence, sweat and leather, but as she became more turned on so it grew fresher but that made my task no less unpalatable.

Once or twice I tried to venture upwards but she was not having it and then I felt a sharp sting on my lower back. She had picked up her previously discarded riding crop and now she was using it to playfully urge me on.

"I'll soon have you schooled. Let me feel your tongue inside."

I pushed through her outer folds to a beyond that was hot, wet and somehow ill defined. Over the years she had been linked with many men, actors and otherwise, and I wondered how many of them she had had on their knees where I was now.

She was slapping me with the crop at regular intervals but every now and again she would administer a sharper snap. She sensed my growing anger but she seemed to be reveling in it.

"What a better place the world would be if all men could be trained like horses."

Finally, her carnal needs overcame her amusement and she drew me up on to her clitoris. Instinctively, following the unwanted urge to bring her pleasure, I wanted to use my fingers but these women seemed to share a common bond. They wanted me to use my mouth alone with all the degree of submission that the act portended.

She came quickly jerking herself into my face as though she was still in the saddle and then the moment passed and she simply kicked me away.

She got up from the bale and stripped out of the remainder of her clothes strewing them nonchalantly onto the floor and then, reading my thoughts, she spoke.

"One of the girls from the village will be up shortly. She'll groom the horse and tidy everything up. I let her ride if I am away. Follow me."

She walked with the poise of a woman happy with her body and, even at forty, it was a body to be proud of. At the end of the block was a shower stall and she stepped in without bothering to close the door.

For a couple of minutes she seemed content to simply stand under the cascading jets but then she set to washing her hair a process that took a further quarter of an hour. I simply stood, wreathed in steam, and watched.

"Come and sponge me down."

She handed me a large natural sponge and a bottle of shower gel and over the next few minutes my clothes became soaked as I tended to her but I hardly noticed as she outlined her plans for me.

"In six weeks from now I am taking my theatre company to Beijing. We will be there for seven days performing Shakespeare and Ibsen. You will be coming along, ostensibly in the capacity of my personal security advisor. In reality, Katrina wants you to meet someone. She says you will know exactly what to do."

This was the last thing I had expected to hear.. I had harboured hopes that Katrina would consider her revenge complete before very much longer but this suggested that she had some sinister long term plans for me. My mind raced. If Katrina thought that I could slip into China unnoticed than she was doing their security services a grave injustice. My military background itself might be a sufficient prohibition but I was willing to bet that they would have a special dossier on me. At best they would refuse to issue a visa. At worst they would let me in but then find a pretext for detaining me.

As I digested the implications she stepped out of the shower and touched her wet hand to my crotch where I was sporting a vigorous erection. The problem was that I had not even been aware of it. I hated her for what she was doing to me but some part of my mind had decided that she would be flattered by my obvious excitement.

She stepped away from me and toweled herself down before donning a short, white, silk robe and a pair of comfortable mules.

"Come with me. It's time for you to start paying back what Katrina owes me for this."

She led me the short distance across the courtyard to the back door of the house.

"Take those wet clothes off before you come in. Leave them at the door."

I did as she asked and followed her in but immediately I did so I had to make a hasty effort to cover myself. There was a woman, small, uniformed, mopping the stone tiled floor.

"Get a move on. Don't worry about Dahlia."

I found it worrying that the maid was far less put out than I was. It seemed that the sight of a naked man padding through the house was nothing out of the ordinary. I continued to follow but she suddenly pulled up short.

"Dahlia, is she up?"

"Yes ma'am. She's just finished in the shower."

I was led right through the house and then up a wide staircase.

"Enjoying the view?"

She was sashaying her way up in front of me and I had been caught taking an instinctively furtive peek.

We arrived at a sumptuously appointed bedroom with a pair of tall windows which gave a spectacular view over the countryside to the rear of the house but I was given no time to appreciate it.

"Is this him?"

I turned at the sound of the voice and I could not disguise my surprise. Up until that moment I had completely forgotten about her daughter. The beautiful "wild child" had made herself the darling of the tabloid press and now, seeing her in the flesh, the resemblance to her mother in her heyday was remarkable.

The newspapers usually caught her arriving at events or leaving nightclubs the worse for wear but none of the pictures did her true justice. She was a little taller than her mother and slightly larger busted but it was her eyes that held my attention. They were wide, dark blue, bespeaking innocence, but as she held my gaze there was a hint of mischievousness, a suggestion of a worldly knowledge beyond her years.

"Yes, this is him."

"Does he know?"

"No, but he won't complain."

The younger woman gave an involuntary squeal of excitement but then gathered herself and spoke again.

"I want to make a start. How does it work?"

"He will do whatever he is told to do and he will not speak unless you want him to."

At that moment the only thought in my mind was that most men in the country would be willing to go down on this young beauty and now I was going to be forced to do it and no one would ever believe me.

She was undressed to the same degree as her mother. She, too, was wearing a short robe that left nothing to the imagination and with a brazen lack of modesty she undid the loosely tied belt and allowed the silky material to fall from her body.

At different times the paparazzi had caught her going topless on beaches around the world and I had ogled the photo's as much as the next man but her breasts were magnificent. They were solid weighty globes with dark nipples that were almost perfect circles. Nature had given her what other women would spend a fortune to achieve.

She was definitely not a beanpole. She shared her mother's classic curves and I noted that, uncharacteristically for a fashionable young woman, she maintained a lush growth of pubic hair.

I refused to catch her eye, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing I was suitably impressed, but I could not control my body's natural response and for the first time in days, it seemed, I felt myself coming to a natural erection.

"Go and stand by the bed."

The voice of authority came to her as naturally as it did to her mother and as I turned to do as I was told I saw that she was proffering a gift wrapped box to her daughter.

"Happy eighteenth my darling."

Behind me now there was another squeal and the sound of impatient unwrapping.

"Oh my God! It has a choice."

"They simply click on but this one is recommended for beginners."

I desperately wanted to turn around and see what was going on as they dissolved into peals of laughter but, once again, I was a captive, pinned in place simply because I knew it was wanted of me.

I felt her mother's warm hand on my shoulder and then her mouth whispering at my ear.

"It's hard to know what to get the girl who has everything but there was one wish I could fulfill. Her father left me because he found his occasional fondness for other men was more than just an impulse. We both found that hard to believe. How could a man married to one of the most desirable women in the country find greater pleasure with someone of the same sex? What pleasure is there in it? Well now we can find out for ourselves."

At that moment I felt a knot of fearful anger and I did turn my head. Her daughter was standing, laughing, with a web of straps around her hips and thighs and a pink rubber phallus jutting out obscenely from her crotch. In truth, it was short and slim, probably no thicker than my middle finger, but the whole idea repulsed me.

"Bend over the bed. Your arse is mine."

I literally snorted with effort as I tried to rebel but her mothers hand at the back of my neck was insistent and irresistible. She pushed me down until my forehead was touching the counterpane and I had never been so conscious of my own vulnerability. I felt myself breaking into a sweat as I waited for the inevitable but then I was startled by the sudden loudness of an aerosol. My buttocks were being sprayed with a cooling liquid which was to act as a lubricant.

Her fingers were slimmer than her mothers as she tentatively took hold of my hips and then, despite her renewed laughter, she seemed at a loss. The phallus was prodding at my ball sac and she needed her mothers helping hand to position it properly. It seemed, then, that the greater obscenity was not what they had in mind for me but the very fact that they were mother and daughter.

"Now?"

"Yes, push gently."

My body resisted simply because it could not relax. She pushed once or twice sliding almost comically away from her target but then her mother took charge again holding it steady.

"Pull yourself onto him."

It occurred to me, at that moment, that she had done it before, that she had already found the answer to her own question and this was more about empowerment, a means of demonstrating to her daughter the weakness of men.

She held my hips more positively and then, with a grunt of effort, she broke through.

The pain was not as great as I feared, I had, after all, been subjected to some very stringent medical examinations, but I had never had anything so deep and the discomfort was excruciating.

"How does it feel?"

By way of reply she shifted her hips moving the thing around inside me.

"Quite nice against my clit."

She slowly withdrew and then pushed back in again as her mother stroked the back of my head.

"You can be a little rougher than that. He's a big boy. He can take it."

For the next couple of minutes she worked the thing in and out breaking now and again only to giggle. Fortunately, notwithstanding her mother's exhortation, she was careful but the feeling of violation almost made me sick.

"You know what? This doesn't do it for me."