Читать книгу Beyond Temptation - Lisette Ashton - Страница 5

Amelia brought the cat-o’-nine-tails smartly across the woman’s backside. The tips of the whip spat at her skin like blistering fat on a griddle. If Bernice hadn’t been gagged Amelia knew the woman would have screamed. Instead, every muscle in her body stiffened against the sharp explosion of pain.

From the back of her throat Bernice released a muffled, guttural roar.

Because she didn’t know her victim particularly well, Amelia couldn’t decide if the noise was caused by ecstasy or anguish. Not that she cared now her own arousal was building. All that mattered to Amelia was the pursuit of her own pleasure. The heat between her legs was formidable as she raised the whip for a second time. Unconsciously, she caressed her breasts through the snug-fitting bodice of her leather outfit. The tips of her nipples responded to her touch, igniting a deeper thrill of pleasure.

Bernice whimpered.

The sound was muted by the gag in her mouth, but it was loud enough for Amelia to hear. Smiling cruelly at Bernice’s predicament, Amelia aimed the cat again.

She briefly contemplated Christian’s bare backside. Like Bernice, he was bound and gagged on all fours. His bare arse was being displayed for her use. From where she stood, Amelia could see the tight sac of his balls dangling beneath his anus. The rigid length of his shaft was mostly hidden from her view but she could see enough of it to know he was excited. With a fiendish grin, she considered striking the whip against the tender flesh at his scrotum. The idea had a dark appeal that heightened her longing’s fever.

After a moment’s reflection she abandoned the thought.

With a vicious sweep of her arm she brought the whip down again on Bernice’s arse.

Despite the gag, Bernice squealed. Every muscle in her body strained against her bindings. Her breath came in tortured gasps and she shivered. Beads of sweat erupted on her bare body. She pulled hard against her restraints.

From behind Amelia, Yale said, ‘Did I mention that you’re meant to be punishing both of them?’

His tone was conversational but Amelia detected ice in his words.

Glancing over her shoulder she studied him as he worked. Although they were all posing for Yale, and she was the central model for this set, she felt as though he hadn’t seen her. His interest seemed devoted to the canvas he was working on. His inscrutable dark eyes flitted sharply as he thrust his paintbrush at the image he was capturing. Occasionally he would flick his head to one side, brushing long hair away from his face so he could study the models more intently. But most of the time he kept his gaze fixed on the picture he was creating.

His paint-streaked shirt was open to the waist, revealing his sun-kissed torso and muscular chest. His tight jeans were distorted at the crotch, thrusting forward with the noticeable bulge of a sizeable erection. He glanced away from the canvas for a moment, his gaze fixing hers.

‘You do remember your instruction for this session, don’t you?’ he asked.

Amelia glared. ‘I want a cigarette.’

He rolled his eyes, ignoring her. ‘I don’t have time for temper tantrums.’ In his rich Scots brogue the words came out as Ah dinnae hae tahm fah tempah tantrams.

Amelia wished she didn’t find his forceful and challenging accent to be so arousing. But everything about Yale was a maddening switch to her desire and even his accent never failed to make her desperate for him.

‘I’m trying to be creative,’ Yale told her. ‘Now, get back to work.’

Nah gebback tah wark.

The muscles in Amelia’s inner thighs tightened in an involuntary clench. She glared at Yale for a moment and then returned her attention to the two bare backsides. She vented her anger on Christian’s exposed arse, lifting the cat and delivering a punishing blow. Ignoring his grunts and muffled protests, she hit him again and again, reddening his flesh with the punishing tips of the cat. Her arm rose and fell with athletic grace as she inflicted blow after blow.

Regardless of his protests and complaints Christian didn’t lose his erection whilst she inflicted her punishment. His cock remained stiff and, as Amelia moved in the little space that Yale had allowed for the set, she saw that the end of Christian’s length leaked a glistening string of pre-come. The thought that she was exciting him with such barbarism added fuel to the fire of her passion. She turned her attention back to Bernice.

Because Bernice reacted to every kiss of the cat, Amelia figured she would get more pleasure from watching the woman struggle beneath the punishment. Savouring the rush of vindictive fury, Amelia whipped harder and faster and threw more fury into each swipe.

‘Here,’ Yale said.

As he spoke, his hand touched her shoulder.

Amelia turned to face him. She was brandishing the whip when she felt his fingers caress her arm. Caught up in a world of euphoria, where she could excite and control anyone with a simple flick of her whip, she was on the point of striking him.

It was only the sight of the proffered cigarette in his fingers that stopped her. With a grudging murmur of thanks, she dropped her whip to the floor and took the lit smoke from his hand.

‘The intention is to punish both of them,’ Yale said. His voice was soft but firm. ‘The entire series is called Woman in Control, remember?’

Amelia sniffed. Drawing on the cigarette, she said nothing.

She knew all about the series he was currently working on. She had been the ‘woman in control’ in each of the paintings. For the first painting her image had been captured naked whilst she was sexually dominating a bound and gagged Christian. The second had shown her in a similar posture, wickedly punishing Bernice. They were now posing for the third painting in a set of four and, as Yale had just reminded her, she was supposed to be whipping both of her charges.

‘If I was going to call the series Mad Bitch Who Loses her Cool and Flays the Shit Out of Another Woman, then you’d have exactly the right posture for this session.’

She stepped past him, ignoring his sarcasm as she drew on her smoke. The sound of her stilettos striking the wooden floor of the studio echoed dully in her ears. It was her intention to be angry with him and try to defy him in some way. It was easy to get annoyed with Yale but from past experience she knew it was almost impossible to stay that way. This time, her anger was assuaged by the sight of his canvas. The picture he had been working on was going to be yet another masterpiece.

He had captured the background with his usual effortless finesse. The opaque black of the studio’s windows added a sinister air of gloom to the painting. The peach-like mounds of Bernice’s bare arse had been recreated beautifully in acrylics. He had even managed to capture the gleaming silver slivers of the metal rings that pierced her nipples and labia. The same loving care had been spent detailing the vision of Christian’s arse. Staring at the painting, Amelia couldn’t help but smile with appreciation. A small tear touched the edge of her eyelid and she blinked it away before it could spoil her mascara. Yale had placed most of her image in the picture but he had neglected to give her a face. He had captured every sleek curve of her leather-clad body, emphasising the rise of her breast and the muscular line of her thighs. He had shown her long dark hair in a cascade of auburn-tinted black, catching her in the act of cracking the whip. But the canvas tapered off to a beige wash where her face should have been.

She glanced curiously at him. ‘You haven’t painted my head,’ she told him.

‘You haven’t started posing as I want you to,’ he returned. ‘What the hell’s wrong with you? Are you still brooding about her? Is that why you’re acting like such a bitch?’

He placed enough stress on the word that they both knew who he was talking about. Amelia blushed furiously and turned away. His words struck harder than a slap to the face.

‘You said you weren’t going to mention her again.’ She watched cigarette smoke shape each word as it left her lips. ‘As I recall, it’s one of your bloody rules that no one mentions her.’

His hands were on Amelia’s arms again and he turned her around effortlessly. Yale’s nearness always had a disturbing effect and she struggled against the rising passion that his touch evoked. She tried to glare at him but the expression felt false and contrived. Rather than simply holding her where she stood, his hands caressed the leather-clad arms of her cat suit, exciting the warm flesh beneath.

Helplessly, she shivered.

‘I had to make a choice between you and that bitch you were screwing,’ he said softly. ‘For me, there was no contest. I chose you. Now you have to make a choice between what you had and what you’ve got.’ He raised a silencing hand as she tried to interrupt him, seeming determined to make his point. ‘Don’t worry,’ he assured her. ‘I’m not going to mention the hold she had over you. I have no intention of using the words “manipulative” and “soulless” when I talk about her. Nor do I intend to use the words “godless and depraved” when I talk about the way you two were together. I simply want you to accept the way things are. It’s just you and me now. She’s out of the picture.’

Amelia glared at him.

She wished she could believe his words but it was more than a little difficult. For a start, it wasn’t just the two of them. Aside from Bernice and Christian she realised there were also Yale’s paintings. He had devoted so much of himself to each one that she felt as though she were competing for his affections with every completed canvas. Glancing over his shoulder she caught sight of one particular painting that seemed to ridicule his sensible words. She remembered modelling for the picture and she could still feel the memory of every delicious moment that she had endured as Yale captured that image. It was a picture that showed her naked and holding another woman – her – in a lover’s embrace.

‘You weren’t using the words “godless and depraved” when you painted Forbidden Love,’ she reminded him. ‘When you painted that, you had trouble keeping your prick in your jeans.’

He had the good grace to blush but his eyes never left Amelia. ‘Hurting Bernice won’t change things.’

‘I’m not that stupid,’ she spat. ‘I know that hurting Bernice won’t change things.’ She hurled her cigarette to the floor, stamped on it with the toe of her shoe and started back for the whip.

He stopped her.

Strong fingers gripped her arm.

Pulling her back into his embrace, he pressed his lips over hers. His kiss was deep and lurid. His tongue pushed into her mouth and she struggled helplessly as he brushed his knuckles over the swell of her leather-clad bosom. Her nipples pressed against the shiny black hide, eager for more of his sensuous caresses.

‘Forget her,’ he whispered, moving his lips away from her mouth. ‘If you concentrate on our work together, we can all be happy.’

‘How can I forget her?’ she hissed. ‘She meant a hell of a lot to me. You know that. She meant so much to me. And we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms, did we?’

He grunted dry, humourless laughter. ‘That’s an understatement if I ever heard one. She issued a bloody fatwa if I remember correctly.’

Amelia winced. Her former lover, she who could not be now named in Yale’s presence, had been Amelia’s soul-mate. She had been Amelia’s lover, partner and best friend. But, for all the positive traits that Amelia admired in her, it had not proved to be a good match. The woman had been cursed with a vindictive personality. And, when it came to Yale making a choice between Amelia and Amelia’s soul-mate, the decision had caused irrevocable upset. They had parted on bad terms.

‘Doesn’t it worry you?’ she asked.

He shrugged, seeming genuinely indifferent to the situation. ‘I’ve been threatened before. Admittedly she did it with a little more finesse than some, but at the end of the day it was only a threat. I can’t really imagine her getting into a position where I have to get down on my bended knees and grovel at her feet.’

‘Then you don’t know her very well,’ Amelia started. ‘When she …’

He pressed his finger against her lips, silencing her. Slowly, he shook his head from side to side. ‘We agreed not to mention her name, and you asked me not to talk about her any more. Let’s try to keep to that agreement, shall we?’

She tried to glare at him but it was impossible. Once again, he had ignited the fire between her legs and she was determined to do whatever he asked. His nearness was infuriatingly arousing. It took a deliberate effort to stop herself reaching out to touch him. Smiling into his eyes, she took a step away and reached for the whip.

‘Punishment time, you worthless pair of maggots,’ she hissed.

She heard Yale’s appreciative chuckle and knew that her mood was exactly the one he wanted to capture. As she raised the cat and aimed it at Christian’s bare backside, she heard Yale’s brush caressing the canvas behind her.

The shrill whistle of a mobile phone broke the mood.

‘Shit!’ Yale exploded. ‘Don’t I ever get any peace?’

Amelia turned in time to see him hurl his paintbrush to the floor. He snatched his discarded jacket from the back of a nearby chair. A thunderous expression clouded his brow. She considered whipping Christian’s arse anyway. The idea held a torrid appeal and she was never one to shy away from that sort of temptation. But she could sense Yale’s good mood evaporating. And, like all the others who worked for him and with him, Amelia never wanted to incur Yale’s wrath.

He pulled the phone from his pocket and pressed the receive button with a paint-smeared thumb. ‘This had better be good,’ he growled into the mouthpiece.

Amelia studied the artist as he listened to the phone. He held his jacket between careless fingers. Every muscle in his body had been rigid with mounting anger. As she watched, she saw his posture soften.

For an instant, his frown returned.

‘This is a joke, right?’

Then he relaxed again.

‘This is better than good, Dominic.’ Yale’s voice was rising with delight. ‘This is tremendous. I owe you, man, and I owe you big time.’

He paused for a second.

‘Maybe not that much.’ He laughed. ‘I’ll get onto it tonight. When things are sorted, I’ll call you and let you know what’s happened, Dominic.’ He snapped the phone off and dropped it back into his jacket pocket. Smiling at Amelia he said, ‘That was Dominic.’

‘I’d guessed.’

Yale shook his head, still grinning in spite of her curt response. ‘He met the senior critic from Art last night. He’s just tried to get in touch with her again.’

Amelia continued to regard him with a speculative gaze. He was so excited and triumphant his body trembled. Intrigued, she urged him to continue.

‘She’s away from the office at the moment, but he suggested I go and introduce myself to her anyway.’

‘How can you do that if she’s away from the office?’ Amelia asked. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’

Yale laughed. ‘That’s the best part,’ he told her happily. He shook his head, causing waves of long dark hair to fly around his face. ‘She’s spending a week at Holbert Manor. Dominic thinks I should go up there and show her some of my canvases.’

‘Holbert Manor? Seriously?’

Amelia drew a startled breath. This was beyond coincidence. There were so many questions, she didn’t know which to ask first.

Yale treated Holbert Manor as his own personal Mecca. The likelihood of the art critic sloping off to that particular location was so incredible Amelia thought it was more like a sign from the gods than a mere coincidence. She tried to find the words to express the sentiment but could only smile with dizzied delight.

Yale nodded, unable to suppress the idiotic grin that twisted his lips. His excitement was immense and she saw he was resisting the urge to dance with glee.

‘Get back to work,’ he instructed sharply. ‘I want this piece finished before we leave, and we leave as soon as the last brushstroke is in place.’

Without hesitating, Amelia resumed her position. She raised her cat-o’-nine-tails high and struck Bernice smartly across the rear.

* * *

Robyn watched the silhouette of the Highlands etched against the dark-blue velvet of a star-speckled sky. The peaks and troughs on the horizon shifted and fell away as she drove further north. The unlit countryside outside the car sped past her in an unseen blur as each long mile passed. Her CD player ploughed through Les Misérables for the third time and she sang along with those lyrics that she knew whenever the mood touched her. The sombre meaning behind the words wasn’t helping her introspective misery but it did distract her from the chore of driving.

The morning had begun badly with another row.

She had wanted to talk to Harold and try to resolve whatever problem was troubling their marriage. Harold hadn’t wanted to talk. He had reiterated his ultimatum from the night before and then stormed out of the house.

Climb into bed with another man, and that’s it. Our marriage will be over. I’ll cut you off without a single penny.

His words had still rung in her ears long after the last echo of the slammed front door subsided.

It seemed incredible that he could say such a thing. They had been enjoying an open marriage since the night their honeymoon ended. Harold had sloped off with a pair of waitresses that evening and she’d ended up in bed with the hotel manager. They had laughed about it and shared the dirty talk of the experience with one another as they made love together later the following day.

The honeymoon had set a delicious precedent for the relationship.

And Robyn had thought the situation would go on for ever in a catalogue of swinging, swapping and sharing experiences. Miserably, she realised she was wrong. Their honeymoon was now well and truly over.

She had seen Harold again in the office that morning but he had ignored her. His cool rejection of her conciliatory smile was more than Robyn could bear. Hurt by the impassive assessment of his dark eyes, she had been left with only one possible course of action: she had to go away and get her thoughts in order. With that decision made, she hurled a sheaf of papers into her briefcase, spoke to Gayle and then jumped into the car.

Ten hours later, with her backside weary from driving and her arms aching from holding the steering wheel, she wondered if she had made the right decision. Regardless of whether it was right or wrong, she knew she had to get away from the city. Being there only made things worse.

On the way into the office that morning a young man with long hair had caught her attention. He stood at reception, talking animatedly with a group of colleagues. His gaze had met hers and he had offered her a crooked smile.

Instinctively, Robyn had smiled back.

She knew her expression was too alluring for the morning. She knew her eyes were appraising him too lewdly but she couldn’t help herself. The familiar pulse of longing tickled between her legs and she had found herself swept up with a need for him.

Ardently fighting the desire, she had stepped into the lift and taken herself away from the temptation. At least if she were out of the city there wouldn’t be any more distractions like that. She needed the remoteness and the isolation of Holbert Manor.

From the tape-player, Madame Thénardier began singing her chorus of ‘Master of the House’. Robyn joined in cheerfully with a raucous rendition, emphasising every line and mentally directing the scathing lyrics towards Harold. When her mobile rang, she jumped in her seat, startled by the shrill, intrusive ring.

‘Robyn?’ Gayle’s familiar voice came from the speaker of the hands-free set. ‘Christ. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Is your mobile playing up again?’

Robyn glanced at the dull green glow of the dashboard clock and saw the figures 21.47. ‘Gayle?’ she said incredulously. ‘Tell me you’re not in the office. Even if it’s a lie, tell me you do occasionally go home and try to have some sort of social life.’

‘I am at home,’ Gayle said shrewishly. ‘And I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Where have you been?’

‘Out of range, I guess,’ Robyn said, not giving the matter a great deal of thought. ‘What’s so important you’re still trying to reach me at this time of night? Honest to God, Gayle, this is above and beyond the call of –’

‘First of all,’ Gayle began, ‘did you give my office number to that arsehole Wayne from sales?’

Robyn smiled sourly to herself. ‘Of course I did. You need a man in your life, Gayle. You’re turning into spinster material. I was looking after your interests.’

‘I’ll take issue with each of those comments when we’re face to face and I can claw your eyes out of their sockets. But, for the moment, that news doesn’t make me feel so bad. It actually makes me feel as though I was justified for what I’ve done.’

A crackle of static punctuated her sentence.

‘What have you done?’ Robyn asked. There was a long pause and she repeated the question, a querulous note rising in her voice. ‘What have you done, Gayle?’

‘Sorry,’ Gayle began. ‘You were breaking up then. I’m calling to tell you that a guy called Dominic was looking for you. He said he met you at the party. I told him where you’d gone.’

Robyn struck her fist against the steering wheel. ‘Shit, Gayle. That was stupid. Why the hell did you tell him that?’

There was another long, unsettling pause and Robyn prayed that the mobile’s tenuous connection would hold out long enough for her to finish this conversation. From previous experience she knew that coverage in the Highlands was notoriously unpredictable.

‘Gayle?’ she barked.

‘… you’re out in the middle of nowhere.’ Gayle sounded as though she was halfway through her sentence when the connection resumed. ‘I figured it would be far enough away from the city so he didn’t trouble you.’

Robyn sighed. ‘He’s an agent. That sort will go to the ends of the earth. There are only two places where an agent won’t go and that’s heaven and hell. They won’t go to heaven because they can’t get in there, and they won’t go to hell because that means they’re working from home.’

The mobile was silent.

It remained so and Robyn cursed, aware that the connection had been broken. She cursed again and struck the steering wheel harder than before. The vacuum of silence from the severed connection reminded her just how alone she was.

From out of the dark, a convoy of wagons rushed towards her. The high-sided vehicles were emblazoned with gaudy colours and brightly painted words, most of which she wasn’t able to discern in the dull glow of her dipped headlights. The wagons were the only vehicles she had seen in the last hour and that realisation reminded her just how isolated she now was. With her mood as dark as the moonlit sky above, she fought against the threat of tears and bravely drove on.

* * *

Amelia lay in her bunk and prepared to sleep. The sound of the motor home’s engine droned idly in the background and the rock and sway of the road beneath them threatened to lull her into a world of dreams as soon as she closed her eyes. The only distraction was the passing flash of overhead lights as they sped along the motorway. Amelia pulled the quilt over her head, buried her face in the pillow and drew a tired breath.

After making love to her, Yale had returned to the passenger seat of the motor home, riding shotgun whilst Christian drove. The warm trickle of his spent seed slipped wetly from between her pussy lips. Every muscle in her body still pulsed with the dull scorch of her last climax. It was, she reflected, a delightful way to drift off to sleep.

‘Where are we going?’

The quilt was pulled from her face and Amelia saw Bernice blinking at her. The delightful aftermath of Yale’s lovemaking softened her usual feeling of annoyance. Amelia smiled at the pretty young blonde, in spite of her weariness.

‘We’re going to Holbert Manor.’ She didn’t bother to add the word ‘again’. That would have been unkind and, although she doubted Yale was listening to them, there was always the possibility he might overhear.

‘Is that meant to explain something? What is Holbert Manor?’

‘It’s a building that’s special to Yale,’ Amelia told her.

‘Why?’

Amelia considered the question for a moment and then shrugged. ‘Ask Yale.’

Bernice cast a glance in the direction of the driver’s cabin. Her pale-blue eyes were caught in a flash from one of the passing overhead lights and Amelia could see the reluctance shining there.

‘Perhaps I’ll ask him tomorrow,’ Bernice decided.

Amelia nodded, as though the conversation was finished. ‘Go to sleep now, Bernice. We have a lot of travelling to do and we’ll all be taking turns behind the wheel before we get there.’ She pulled the quilt back over her face, closing her eyes firmly shut.

‘Where is it?’

Amelia chewed on her lower lip, resisting the urge to be rude. ‘Scotland.’ She didn’t bother to open her eyes.

There was a moment’s silence and Amelia wondered if the woman had returned to her bunk.

‘Whereabouts in Scotland?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not a fucking a road map and I’ve not got a satnav under here. What do you want, an Ordnance Survey reference number?’ Amelia kept her voice low as she hissed the irritable rebuke. With less venom in her voice, she asked, ‘Why don’t you go to bed and go to sleep?’

‘I’m not tired.’

With her teeth gritted, Amelia said, ‘I am.’ She wished she could have taken back the words as soon as she said them. She had opened her eyes in time to see the flash of hurt catch in Bernice’s eyes but by then it was too late. The knowledge that she had upset her rekindled the embers of Amelia’s sexual excitement. She had wanted to simply go to sleep but now there were other courses of action open to her. Bernice was young and vulnerable and easily hurt. All of those things aroused a sadistic passion in Amelia’s heart.

Bernice had turned her back. Her shoulders were slumped in a posture of defeat. Thinking back to their modelling sessions, Amelia realised it was the way the woman looked after she had been properly whipped. With that thought, the glowing heat of her arousal began to burn.

‘Is something troubling you, Bernice?’ she asked.

The question came out as though Amelia was now sympathetic and understanding. It was a difficult façade for her to maintain but Amelia didn’t plan on keeping up the deception for too long.

Bernice returned to the side of her bunk with a weak smile. Her eyes were wide and innocent, shining with the threat of tears that she quickly blinked away. She stared hopefully at Amelia. ‘You’ll think I’m stupid,’ Bernice began.

Amelia shrugged and sat up in her bunk. ‘Then I won’t have to change my opinion of you.’ She watched as Bernice worked out the insult, and then gave her a reassuring smile. ‘Just joking.’ In the poor light of the travelling motor home, Amelia knew the malicious glint of her hazel eyes would be hidden.

‘I don’t like to sleep alone,’ Bernice explained quietly. ‘I know how ridiculous that sounds. I know I sound like a stupid, foolish kid but …’

Amelia placed a finger against the woman’s lips, silencing her. She wore a wicked smile that was concealed by the shadows. Even if she hadn’t been wet with the remainder of Yale’s seed, she knew her pussy lips would now be dripping with arousal as she listened to Bernice’s frightened voice. Keeping the malevolence from her words she asked, ‘Would you like to join me for a while?’ She raised the quilt invitingly, allowing Bernice to catch a glimpse of her naked body.

‘I won’t disturb you,’ Bernice assured her, putting a hand on the side of the bunk as she prepared to climb in. ‘I don’t kick or wriggle or make a lot of noise.’

‘Perhaps you might if I do the right things,’ Amelia replied.

She felt the girl stiffen slightly at her lewd remark and saw the flicker of hesitancy in her eyes. Her emotions were so clear Amelia could read them in the dark. Bernice was scared of lying naked next to a dominant predator like herself; but Amelia could sense Bernice had a greater fear of being alone in bed. After tonight, she doubted Bernice would find the idea of a lonely bed quite so intimidating. A shiver of anticipation touched her body. Her heart began to pound with the rising thrill of excitement.

Bernice climbed into the bed, pressing her nakedness against Amelia’s. It was the only double bunk in the motor home and, while it was smaller than a standard double bed, it should have been spacious enough for two people to sleep comfortably. And yet Bernice was pressing her body intimately close. The woman’s motives seemed innocent enough, and Amelia doubted that Bernice knew she was inspiring so much arousal, but even that naiveté added to her excitement. She draped her arm around Bernice’s shoulder, hugging her in a casual and almost platonic embrace.

‘Comfortable?’

Bernice nodded. ‘Mmmm … very,’ she replied. Sleep was already apparent in her voice.

Amelia chuckled softly. ‘You seem a lot more comfortable than you did on Monday,’ she observed. As she said the words, she stroked the tips of her fingers against Bernice’s shoulder.

‘Mon–Monday?’ Bernice’s entire body was suddenly rigid with tension.

‘Monday,’ Amelia confirmed. ‘Yale had us posing for the second picture of this current series. Woman in Control. We’d already done the one where I was dominating Christian. I was supposed to be dominating you, remember?’

As another light passed overhead, Amelia saw the woman’s colour darken. She grinned cruelly to herself.

‘I remember,’ Bernice whispered.

‘You didn’t look particularly comfortable, as I recall,’ Amelia went on. She feigned an uninterested tone, although her fingers still drew small circles against the cool flesh of the woman’s shoulder. Deliberately, she broadened each circle, allowing the tips of her nails to brush the soft, tender skin of Bernice’s breasts.

The model trembled.

‘Perhaps you’re just one of those people who hasn’t been allowed to explore that aspect of their sexuality?’ Amelia suggested. ‘Yale seems to think highly of you, and Christian is quite taken with you too,’ she went on. ‘But I don’t think you’ve ever had the chance to make love to a woman, have you?’

‘It’s not that I …’

Amelia didn’t allow her to finish. She moved her fingers slowly down the breast she was caressing and lazily toyed with Bernice’s areola. The subtle frisson of her finger on the raised flesh was exquisite. She casually touched the metal ring that penetrated Bernice’s nipple and Amelia’s excitement grew stronger.

Bernice was something of a mystery. She was happy to model naked. She eagerly adopted every exotic pose Yale demanded. She had a beautiful body and erotic piercings that made Amelia squirm with liquid excitement.

And yet she acted like the world’s most naïve and sheltered virgin.

Her lifestyle and character seemed so incompatible Amelia wondered how Bernice managed the conflict of day-to-day living.

And then Amelia remembered that she didn’t particularly care about Bernice’s character. Bernice was in her bed and there was a chance to exploit the woman. Nothing else mattered.

‘You’ve never made love to a woman?’ Amelia marvelled. In a husky whisper she asked, ‘Perhaps it’s something you’d like to try?’

Bernice turned to face her. Hesitancy was clear in her trembling lower lip. ‘I’m not sure that I could … I mean … I don’t know if …’

Amelia ignored her stammered protests and grinned. ‘Perhaps you’d like to try it now?’

Bernice shook her head. Her hands began to move up and Amelia knew she wanted to protect or defend herself. She didn’t allow her the opportunity. Kissing her mouth, she pushed her fingers to the tip of the woman’s nipple and squeezed softly.

She wondered if the pierced metal was heightening Bernice’s response to the pressure. The cruel side of her nature wanted the woman to suffer and she was delighted to hear her catch an uncomfortable breath.

Inflicting pain always made arousal more intense.

With a salacious grin, Amelia eased her leg between Bernice’s. She rubbed the front of her thigh against the woman’s sex, relishing the sensation of pierced labia touching her bare skin.

Despite Bernice’s mumbled protestations of uninterest, Amelia could feel her thigh warmed by the slick wetness from the woman’s pussy lips.

‘You want to, don’t you?’ Amelia panted the words when their kiss eventually broke. She could still see the potential for refusal in the woman’s eyes but that only added to her pleasure.

‘Feel how hard your nipple is,’ she urged, teasing the pierced nub between the tips of her finger and thumb. ‘My leg feels sticky with your quim juices. You want to do more, don’t you?’ She delivered the last sentence like a challenge, daring Bernice to refuse. ‘You want to do a lot more.’

‘Is that what you want?’ Bernice asked hesitantly.

Amelia smiled. ‘It’s what we both want.’ She stroked her fingers through the woman’s short shock of blonde hair. ‘And, once we’ve done this, you’ll want to do it again and again.’

Bernice frowned. The threat of a refusal hovered on her trembling lips but Amelia brushed it away with the soft caress of her fingertip.

‘Or you could go back to your own bunk and let me sleep in peace,’ Amelia suggested. It was a calculated threat, deliberately spoken to bring the woman to her way of thinking.

‘OK,’ Bernice decided.

Amelia stroked the woman’s hair and kissed her gently on the mouth. ‘I’ll teach you everything you need to know about pleasing a woman,’ she said, idly fingering the nipple and its ring. ‘And the first lesson starts here.’

Fearfully, Bernice stared at her. She watched as Amelia moved her body away and slipped from beneath the quilt.

Bernice’s meek gaze fuelled Amelia’s arousal as she straddled herself over the woman’s face. ‘You can start by tonguing my quim.’ Amelia spoke in a conversational tone. ‘I’ll tell you if you’re not doing it right.’ She saw Bernice glance towards her own empty bunk, then stare unhappily up at her. Ignoring the unspoken request for leniency, Amelia pretended to be concerned. ‘Of course,’ she enthused, ‘I need to be a bit lower for you to reach me, don’t I?’

Bernice started to say something, a protest Amelia suspected, and so she acted with haste. The woman’s words were muffled as sex lips engulfed her mouth. Amelia rested her weight on Bernice’s reluctant face and the mumbled objections tapered off to silence.

For an instant she felt sure Bernice was going to defy her. The woman lay motionless beneath her. Her mouth was pressed against Amelia’s labia but she made no attempt to use her tongue. The only sensation was breath from Bernice’s nostrils as she exhaled softly into the dark curls of Amelia’s pubic bush. Even that warm tickle heightened her burgeoning hunger for sexual release. Amelia was already turned on by the reluctance colouring her victim’s mood. Lying motionless and unresponsive beneath her, Bernice was augmenting her arousal.

When the tongue began to move, Amelia was caught by surprise. Bernice thrust her tongue deep into the inner warmth of Amelia’s sex. The blonde moaned quietly as she performed the intimate and intrusive act.

Amelia shivered.

She rocked her pelvis back, allowing Bernice to work on her clitoris. The solid muscle of Bernice’s tongue pushed wetly against the tiny bead of Amelia’s clit. The thrill was sudden and almost too much. Amelia snatched her clitoris from Bernice’s tongue and then rolled her sex forward, allowing her victim to taste the lips of her pussy. Despite Bernice’s reluctance, Amelia felt as though she had found a natural for this particular task. Bernice slipped her tongue against the sopping cleft, probing tentatively between the labia. The woman seemed unaware that she was lapping up the remainder of Yale’s spent seed and Amelia wondered if that flavour might be adding to her excitement. She dismissed the notion, content to revel in the joy of having the tongue brush the pulsing nub of her clitoris and then plunder the delicate folds of her sex. Every movement inspired a wave of raw pleasure. Eddies of enjoyment shivered through Amelia’s body with punishing force.

With a heavy sigh, Amelia found herself on the brink of orgasm. She didn’t bother fighting the impulse, aware there was a long night ahead where she could enjoy repeated peaks. She simply gave herself over to the wave of delight that surged from her loins.

Bernice wriggled beneath her and gagged as Amelia’s climax spattered her face. A mischievous thought made Amelia want to stay where she was, forcing her new-found lover to drink everything that poured from her sex. But she stopped herself taking this game to that level of cruelty. Bernice had proved herself an able lover and Amelia was determined to exploit all her talents fully before she started to properly abuse her. Gracefully, she eased herself away from the woman’s face and smiled down.

‘What a good start,’ Amelia said cheerfully. ‘You must have done this before.’

Bernice shook her head. She smiled happily up at Amelia, seeming to take pride in having given pleasure. With the back of her hand she absently wiped her face clean. In the pulsing light of the motor home, Amelia could see a glistening smear of her juices and Yale’s semen on Bernice’s jaw. The sight was inspiration for another surge of fresh desire.

‘Never,’ Bernice whispered. ‘That was my first time. My first time with a woman, I mean.’

‘Then you have a gift,’ Amelia assured her. ‘And since I’m sharing my bed with you, I think it’s only fair for you to share your gift with me.’

Nodding eagerly, Bernice reached out to embrace her.

Amelia felt the naked woman snuggle her body close to hers.

When she had climbed into the bed, Bernice’s body had been cool and dry. Now, after their initial bout of lovemaking, her sensuous curves were coated with a light dousing of sweat. Her skin was feverishly hot as she pressed herself against Amelia’s flesh.