Trust Ch. 08

Meanwhile Julia was working her way down Emma's body, paying special attention to Emma's breasts. Emma, who loved having her breasts fondled, moaned in delight as Julia expertly drew the palms of her hands down over Emma's nipples, then smoothed down the side of her breasts to stroke the overhanging flesh of the undersides before completing with an upstroke over the nipples again to repeat the cycle several times.

Julia then smoothed her soapy hands down Emma's hips and Emma flinched as she felt the press of hands on the tenderised surfaces of her bottom. Julia than came back over and across the tops of Emma's legs to massage her inner thighs. Then her fingertips caressed Emma's mound before sliding down to stroke her clitoris and labia. As Emma began to throb and her breasts began to heave with her rising excitement Julia began to play the shower hose up and down her swollen genitalia. Emma cried out in delight and pushed out her groin into the water jet so it hit her on just the right spot and then she gasped as another orgasm swept through her like a wave, followed by another, and another.

Emma's legs were quivering as Julia covered them with soap from her thighs to her ankles and removed each plimsoll from her foot in turn to wash her foot before replacing the saturated sogginess of her plimsoll back on her foot. After this, Julia rinsed Emma thoroughly from head to foot and then, with all the taps switched off and the tubes and the belt removed from Emma's person, wrapped her in a large towel before drying her with vigorous up and down motions of her hands.

"'Finished with the prisoner, Sir!" Julia informed Rick as Emma leaned against her, semi-slumped in her supporting arms.

"Take her to the holding cell pending release, Sergeant," Rick instructed her. With her whole persona suddenly transformed by a kind smile and a gentle "Come on Emma, you're all finished with now," Julia led a still dazed Emma stumblingly out through a door in the corner of the room and Rick joined me to take me to the room where she was being put.

"She's a bloody good sport, that girl of yours," he smiled to me as we stopped outside the room and he handed me a spiral bound document folder containing Emma's 'test results', a couple of disks containing all the photos and video footage, and the key to Emma's handcuffs. "You won't want to let her slip through your fingers if you can help it."

"I don't intend to," I smiled. "But keep your fingers crossed for me for the next few days will you?"

"Will do," Rick grinned, "and take as long as you like with her. Julia and I have got plenty to tidy up so we won't want to lock up for a good while yet. Then you can have a lift back to the restaurant in the back of the van. You won't be able to see out so you won't need blindfolds."

I opened the door and saw Emma lying on her side, with her arms still handcuffed behind her back and with her knees drawn up close to her breasts, on a mattress laid on a low platform built against the opposite wall. The lighting in the room, in contrast to the other rooms, was warm and sympathetically low key and, for the first time, she looked soft and vulnerable in her naked, manacled bondage and with her feet pointed daintily in her white plimsolls. My heart swelled for her with a longing that was far deeper than merely physical. She smiled up at me as I came into the room.

"So now you really do know what a dirty girl I am," she laughed.

"I've got the evidence right here," I smiled, holding up the folder and the disks and glancing at them momentarily.

"I can give you some better evidence than that right now," she giggled.

"What have you got?" I smiled again.

She rolled onto her front and drew up her knees beneath her, pushing her bottom upwards to the height of my waist as her head rested on the mattress. She parted her knees and pushed her legs apart. Her womanhood was wide open.

"This," she replied with a wicked come hither look in her eyes.

"Just what I need to clinch the case," I replied as I began to get undressed. "I've spent the last two hours watching you, with an almost permanent erection, and I'm mad for a fuck." Then I saw the florid pink patches on her bottom. "Isn't it going to be a bit uncomfortable, given the state of your derriere?" I pointed out to her.

"That's a silly question isn't it?" she retorted. "You know how much I love painful sex."

I lost no time in getting naked before taking up position standing behind Emma's bottom where it rested above the end the mattress. On a chair next to me I saw the blindfold and gag that had been used on her earlier, left with her clothes presumably as souvenirs of the occasion.

"Lift up your head a moment," I told her. She did so and I placed the blindfold over her eyes and adjusted the strap to a close fit around her head.

She gasped with excitement as I pushed her head down onto the mattress again. I was aching to plunge into her but first I checked her with my hand to see if she was ready for me. Her douche had left her dry but with some gentle stroking her love juices soon began to flow again and in a couple of minutes she was nicely and moistly prepared. With Emma well lubricated, I placed the tip my swollen head into her entrance and with a grunt of pleasure pushed myself into her with a long slow thrust between her outstretched thighs. The rough-hewn, antiseptic aroma of coal tar soap that hung over her, rather than the more refined and heady fragrances that she normally wore, somehow seemed more suitable for the rougher, more animal kind of sex I was about to perform on her.

I get two very special pleasures when I fuck Emma from behind. The first is a feeling of potent dominance, heightened on this occasion by the sight of her handcuffed wrists resting on her back and of her blindfolded eyes turned up submissively towards me; the second is the fabulous massage she gives me down the whole length of my erection each time I thrust into her. This time I was so sexually charged that I almost blacked out several times with the intense pressure waves of pleasure that radiated from my throbbing member as each deep thrust brought my orgasm closer until it finally gripped my groin in a vice like grip that made me gasp deep in my guts for what felt like an age. Although she got little stimulation of her own from being penetrated at that angle, she still answered my thrusts with deep moans and sighs to encourage me.

I held my position inside her while my orgasm gripped me again and again and I sighed with deep contentment as she, always the most generous of lovers, prolonged my pleasure by continually clenching her pelvic muscles on me. Finally obliged to withdraw my waning erection from her, I sank down beside her and, with a profound feeling of contentment, wrapped my arms around her and drew her close. Although her eyes were still sightless beneath her blindfold, her mouth homed in on mine and she gave me a long fond kiss before adding, "You do know that I will definitely get my own back on you for this."

"I can't wait," I smiled as I kissed the tip of her nose and imagined her making me dress like Bonnie Langford and me looking more like Grayson Perry.

"You sounded very convincing in that 'I'm a dirty girl' business," I smiled.

"I am a dirty girl," she asserted. My smile changed instantly to astonishment with the unexpected seriousness of her reply as she continued. "And you're a dirty boy. We're all just shit piles wrapped up in skin. If everyone was honest with themselves about it instead of massaging their egos and being up themselves all the time because they think they're God's gift to the universe, there'd be much more compassion and the world would be a much nicer place." She grinned and added "And we'd all have a lot more fun," as she rubbed her knee against my genitals to emphasise the point in the way she meant it. Then her expression changed to an ironic smile. "Anyway, who am I to talk? If I really practiced what I preached I wouldn't have kicked up so much fuss about crapping into a cat litter tray."

I pushed up the blindfold from over her eyes to let it rest on her forehead and held her head in my hands as I kissed her between her eyes.

"You certainly practice what you preach in my case," I said gently to her.

We shared a long and loving kiss as I encircled her body with my arms and held her handcuffed hands in mine. Then, while still within my embrace, she turned over onto her other side so that her back was facing me. "Come on," she cajoled, "get these handcuffs off me so we can get out of here and get something to eat. I'm so famished I think I can manage a horse."

"After what I saw just now I don't doubt it for a moment," I laughed, and kissed the back of her neck as she giggled uncontrollably.

EPILOGUE

Several days later Emma got her own back on me sooner than I had anticipated and in a way I could never have imagined.

We were having lunch after a morning's hard work in the garden. We sat together at the kitchen table, both of us naked except for the old and dirt-covered white plimsolls that were all we ever wore when we were gardening, even in cold wet weather. I had just eaten the last spoonful of a bowl of fruit salad when she said to me,

"How did you like the fruit salad?"

I thought for a moment and then replied.

"It was really good but, now you mention it, it did have an interesting aftertaste that I kept thinking I ought to recognise but I couldn't quite pin down."

"Would it help if I told you the recipe?" Her grin was half Meg Ryan and half Cheshire Cat.

"Fruit salad doesn't need a recipe," I retorted. "You just cut up a load of fruit and soak it in booze."

"My fruit salad is different, it has a secret ingredient." The grin was all Cheshire cat now.

"All right, what is it then?" I pressed her, beginning to get a slightly sinking feeling that things were about to turn out to be not quite what they seemed, which happened quite often wherever Emma was involved.

"Watch this and find out," she instructed me as she placed her camcorder, the viewing screen folded out and inclined so I could see it, onto the table and pressed the playback button.

The scene began with Emma standing in the kitchen chopping several different kinds of fruit. Her naked body glowed warmly and her white plimsolls and ankle socks gleamed brightly in the sunlight streaming in through the window. She hummed gently in harmony with the melodious soundtrack of one of Bach's Brandenburg Concertos floating in on the air from its source in the sitting room. She finished chopping the fruit and placing it in a bowl and then picked up the bowl and another, empty, bowl and carried them out of the kitchen. During the short pause between scenes I noticed that the date on the screen was a couple of days previous, when I had been at work and she had been at home during the afternoon before giving her advanced pointe class at her ballet school that evening.

The scene changed to her entering our bedroom, placing the two bowls on a small table placed next to the bed, and then lying down on the bed. She spread her legs apart and bent her knees so that her lower legs pointed in parallel lines down the length of the bed with her feet pointed in her white plimsolls. She then spent a couple of minutes stroking her womanhood with one hand and caressing her breasts with her other hand as she lay with her eyes closed and lips gently parted and a very contented expression on her face, her breasts rising and falling in time with her deep sighs of womanly delight. I'm not at all offended by the fact that Emma, highly sexed as she is, is accustomed to dipping her hand in the honey pot in my absence, so I watched in equal delight and without a trace of self-consciousness as my manhood sprang to attention and began to pulsate sympathetically with her most sensual display of the girl's way to self-pleasure.

Then my eyes widened further as Emma opened her eyes, reached into the bowl of fruit, selected a portion of apple, prized her labia apart with her other hand and, while keeping her entrance pulled open, carefully inserted the piece of apple into her vagina. She did the same with several other pieces of fruit and then, while keeping one hand placed flat over her private, she stroked her clitoris until she gasped out in her orgasm.

She brought herself to orgasm a couple more times, each time filling the room with the soprano coloratura of her ecstatic moans and sighs. Then she carefully picked out from inside her vagina each mucus-coated piece of fruit and placed it in the empty bowl. She continued in this way with the rest of the fruit until it was all transferred to the second bowl. Then, humming happily to herself, she sprang up from the bed, picked up the bowl of genitally enhanced fruit and skipped happily out of the room, her breasts bouncing enthusiastically in time with the dainty steps of her white plimsolls as she disappeared into the corridor beyond.

The scene changed back to the kitchen, with Emma placing the bowl of fruit, now covered with cling film, into the fridge. At that moment I suddenly realised, with a queasy sinking feeling growing in my stomach, that the bowl she was putting into the fridge was the same one I had just been eating from.

She closed the fridge door and then the camera zoomed in on a handwritten notice fixed to the door with fridge magnets. I read the notice and my worst fears were confirmed.

"Revenge is a dish that is best served cold; bon appétit!"

The screen went blank. I looked up in dismay to see the wicked smile of exultant triumph in her eyes as she raised her wine glass and with vampishly puckered lips, blew me a kiss.