Wednesday, 30 May 2012

Erotic novel sample chapter: The Devil's Plaything

She drew back from me her face falling into a serious frown. I felt my shoulders hunch up and clung to the shelf behind me.
‘Perhaps we should talk later. Lou’s a bit busy and I’m trying to help out.’ I squirmed.
She reached up to my throat and slipped a finger underneath my collar.
Chez led me across the club, my chin held high with her hand beneath it. Some of the patrons stared but most shrugged and turned away. She pushed me onto a sofa and perched on a coffee table in front of me. I took in the frilled white blouse and pencil skirt, flared at the bottom into a fish tail. Her make up was immaculate but I could see the face behind it had gone loose.
‘Do you still want to leave us, Becky?’
Chez stretched out and put her hand on my knee. It felt no more like a human touch to me than the scrape of the edge of a desk on my knee in my lectures. I clamped my hands together in my lap and fixed my eyes on them. I shook my head with a tiny movement.
‘You know, I want you to be happy but if you want my help then you must follow my lead. Look at me when I’m talking to you.’ She demanded though not unkindly.
I lifted my head and looked past her ear.
‘I do follow you lead, Chez.’
She threw her hands up.
‘I despair with you, really I do.’
I shrugged and picked up a cushion from the sofa. I wrapped it in my arms, tightly. I assumed she was looking for an apology but I felt stubborn. The zip of the cushion cover scratched against my thumb.
‘I don’t want you to see that man in the balaclava again. He’s nothing but trouble.’
I looked her in the eye.
‘I know he’s trouble…but why? Why don’t you want me to see him again?’
She grabbed both my shoulders and shook me.
‘Because I say so or is that not good enough for you anymore?’
‘At least Satan’s Bitch took me out somewhere.’
She blinked fast and looked up as if holding back tears. I decided to press my advantage.
‘You just ignore me, why should I listen to you?’
Chez nodded slowly.
‘You know, if you don’t start treating me-‘
‘Satan’s Bitch?’ She interjected, cutting me off short, ‘Is that what he’s calling himself nowadays?’ She rolled her head around, caught in a fit of nostalgia, ‘I never expected him to take things so seriously.’
I placed the cushion by my side, moving slowly as if watching a bird feeding that I did not wish to disturb. If I was careful she might reveal more details.
‘We were young before it happened, in our twenties. I think I was only eighteen.’ She looked up at me with a thin smile, ‘About your age, Rebecca.’
She held out her hand, the red painted nails glistening in the candlelight, darkly as if dipped in blood and beckoned me. I lent forward, hesitantly and her finger slipped through the ring dangling from my collar. I shuddered and all my muscles stiffened.
‘I suppose you want to know what I’m talking about.
She tugged on the collar until we were cheek to cheek. My pussy slicked and I dug my nails into my palms to distract myself from the tingle between my legs. Her lip grazed the top of my ear.
‘It has to do with Simon, Satan’s Bitch and me but if you are planning on leaving my house then it would be folly to say much more.’
Chez released me. She lent back, crossing her legs with a self-satisfied smirk. My jaw was shaking, my teeth rattling in my head in frustration.
‘I’m not interested, in any case.’ I lied, folding my arms.
Chez laughed and brushed her hand lightly through her short hair.
‘I’ve already told Louise and Sue all about it on one of drunken girlies. You know how it is. I shouldn’t really have let it slip at all.’
‘Perhaps not.’ I snapped, my knees twitching to stand and walk away.
‘It’s ok with Louise and Sue, of course, I trust them.’ She continued tauntingly, ‘I know it probably doesn’t feel fair to you but it’s more difficult to talk to you about this. Please don’t take offence but you’re so moody and unpredictable that I never know whether you are staying or going.’
‘I do take offence, actually!’
Chez patted my knee and left her hand resting there.
‘Don’t be silly, dear, I do like that about you, it’s quite endearing. It’s not that I think you are being dishonest, I just think that you don’t really know your own mind.’
‘That’s not true. I don’t need you. You need me! I can look after myself, Chez.’
She looked down at her hand and began to slide it upwards, over my stockings, toward my dripping cunt. My legs were caught in spasm. I wanted to be strong, to stand and walk away from this bitch. I imagined the impact of my hand on her cheek, the wobble of the turkey flesh developing at her neck with age, the smear of make up that it would leave on my palm but instead of taking action, I buried my hands beneath my thighs to trap them. I imagined standing in one smooth motion, leaving her reeling, turning my back and walking to the stairs with my head held high but instead I clenched my buttocks, straining for her touch.
‘Legs apart, Becky.’ She reminded me.
Chez scratched lightly up my thigh to my knickers. Using a single fingernail, she scraped the material covering my throbbing clitoris to give the lightest vibration. I bit my lip.
‘I’m sorry, you were saying?’
I opened my mouth to reply but all that came out was a sigh.
‘Something about being able to look after yourself.’
‘I can’t remember.’ I replied.
I lolled back against the sofa, relishing her excruciating touch. Everything faded into the background and there was only her finger on my clitoris with that frustrating layer of material between me and satisfaction. Then, the tattoo of heavy platform boots on the stairs and unexpectedly, the crinkle of plastic. I opened my eyes, abandoning all hope of achieving any kind of orgasm.
‘Hi there, you boring party poopers.’ Grinned Louise, ‘Look what I found!’
She held up two large plastic vacuum bags, like the ones that my Gran used to pack all her furs in the Summer before they went up the loft.
‘What an interesting find.’
Chez took her hand out from between my legs and reached for the bag.
‘You’re not claustrophobic, are you, Rebecca?’ Louise quizzed, one eyebrow raised.
I shook my head, silently. I did not know what they were planning but I wasn’t sure that I was going to enjoy it. Louise pulled me out of my seat and handcuffed me, joining my hands in front of me. As they walked me down the stairs, back into the dungeon, I wondered why I hadn’t learned from my last experience, why I didn’t say no, why I didn’t fight them. I walked to the middle of the floor with a bowed head, my ginger curls covering my face, acting as blinkers from the gaze of the onlookers. Louise placed the vacuum bag on the sticky, black dance floor and smoothed it out.
‘Get into the bag.’
I shook the hair out of my eyes.
‘Why? What are you going to do once I’m in the bag?’
Chez picked up a vacuum cleaner hose and brandished it as a country gentleman would brandish a walking stick at a young scallywag. The sooner I got in the bag, the sooner this would all be over. People were watching now, turning their backs on the bar and gazing down at me. I pulled the bag apart at the plastic zip, my knee holding down the side. I assessed its size and decided that I would fit if I curled up, tight. I turned and backed into it awkwardly and slowly. It crunched around me like Autumn leaves underfoot. I settled myself on my side and drew my knees to my chest. The plastic was slick and smelt slightly sweet as though the last person to be engulfed by it had been covered in baby oil. Already, the air in the bag was boiling around my body and felt close and hot at my mouth. Chez’s hand appeared with a length of rubber tubing, poking toward my mouth.
‘Wrap your lips around this, Becks.’
Her voice sounded far away. I took the tube into my mouth and gripped it between my teeth.
‘Put your hands between your legs.’ Instructed Louise with a smirk.
I cringed inside but wriggled until my cuffed hands were wedged between my thighs. The faces of the club goers gazed down at me through the plastic as though I was underwater and they were looking down on me from dry land. I felt like an exotic fish in a tank at a dentist’s surgery. My pussy was hot from Chez’s teasing. I couldn’t resist wiggling my thumb over my clitoris and feeling myself swell. The nozzle appeared near my face and the whir of the vacuum cleaner made me jump as it began to suck the air from around me. The plastic folded in slowly at first but then as the last of the air was sucked away it welded itself to my skin, hugging in around my thighs and tight across my face. Chez pulled the zip closed. Louise poked me in the leg with the toe of her boot,
‘Frig yourself.’ She shouted, her voice far away as if I was in a swimming pool.
The crowd had drawn closer to watch the scene. Their smiles were twisted into terrifying leers by the plastic lens through which I viewed them. I tensed and wanted to pull my hands away but the plastic was too tight.
‘Come on, Ruby.’ Chez urged, kneeling beside me.
I brushed my fingers lightly against myself at first. Two women stepped out from the crowd and knelt down. They brushed their gloved hands against the plastic, sliding with firm hot pressure against my sweat slicked skin. I pressed the side of my thumb hard against my sex and ground my hips into it, my eyes squeezed shut. My arousal built, buzzing in my head and my groin. I became aware of a sucking sound and realised as my mouth dried out and my lungs ached that I was sucking hard on rubber breathing tube clenched between my teeth.
‘This is taking too long.’ I heard Louise comment.
Chez bent close to me and bit my ear. Her teeth felt weird and the plastic was cold and wet like a neglected bathroom wall. Goosebumps prickled all over my left hand side.
‘If you don’t come after ten more seconds, I’m going to take away your breathing tube.’ She told me and then she addressed the gathered crowd, ‘Count down with me!’
They complied, their voices raised together, Louise and Chez’s voices rising above the rest. ‘Ten – nine – eight,’
She gave the tube a little tug, I gripped it hard with my teeth but it slipped against them. I could not move my head. My juices mixed with perspiration beading between my thighs, soaking my knickers.
‘Seven – six – five,’
I rubbed frantically but the closer orgasm came, the more I sucked on the tube and the more aware I was that my air supply was about to disappear.
‘Four – three – two,’
I bit down on the tube but when I sucked on it, no air came to me, I had closed off the hollow of the tube. I choked and released it.
Chez yanked the tube from my mouth and zipped the bag shut. My pussy twitched helplessly. My orgasm rolled to an ache and dissipated. My body was so hot, as if I had fallen asleep in a sauna. The crowd was silent. I lay still and stared at the beer bottle rolling away from me across the sticky club floor. I wondered if I should put a message in the bottle to send for help. It was as still and quiet as the sea in there and as hot as hell. The unwelcome thought came to me that suffocating in a vacuum bag on the floor of a night club would be an absolutely stupid way to die and would look hilariously ridiculous on a death certificate. I closed my eyes and let out a tiny bit of breath to try to sustain myself. The noise started again and it felt unwelcome, I was so comfortable, so still.
‘Let her out of there!’
The zip was pulled open and clean air as cold as mint flooded into my lungs. My body took gasps of it. I opened my eyes, though, I hadn’t been aware I had closed them. It was like a tape re-starting after pause. Perhaps I had fainted. I bent double and threw up on my rescuer’s shoes.
‘What are you doing here?’ Chez asked. Her voice was higher than usual, her words slower to come to her.
I looked up into a white hockey mask on top of a tall body. He was wearing leather jeans and nothing on his top half. Though the mask was different this time, I would remember Satan’s Bitch anywhere.
‘Sir! Thank you!’
I reached out to touch him but Louise grabbed me from behind, wrapping a towel around my shoulders. It was welcome, I had started to shiver.
‘Come on, sit down, you need a cup of tea.’
My groin ached with sexual frustration. A cup of tea would be lovely but an orgasm would be better. I reached out to him again but her fingers dug into my shoulder, cold and hard.
‘Down, girl.’
She pushed me into a corner, behind the St. Andrew’s cross. There was one bright tea light shining through a jar that sat at the foot of the cross. Its soft glow captivated my attention. The smoke had dusted the inside of the jar diffusing the bright fire into a dying sunset. The crowd did not follow us; they were watching Chez and Satan’s Bitch square off at each other.
‘Stay there space cadet. Tea coming up.’
Louise sloped off to the bar leaving me huddled there, candle in the foreground the crowd behind it. I could just see their shoes, SB’s sulking army boots faced by Chez’s prim heels.
‘You know I don’t like to be questioned.’ I heard him grunt, finally in reply to Chez.
‘I just wasn’t expecting you to come to a place like this.’ She muttered.
‘I came to talk to Mr. Hancock. Where is Simon?’
‘Simon doesn’t want to speak to you, especially after the message you left him in his flat the other day. I presume it was you that left Ruby in that state and not some other pervert that you got to act on your behalf.’ Chez’s words were strong but her tone wavered and she coughed.
At the mention of the incident, being chained to the radiator and degraded by all of them, tears sprang to my eyes but my pussy twitched and then clenched hard around the void that teased it.
‘That’s a lie, Madam. Simon does want to speak to me but he is too much of a fucking coward to do so. I will find him, with or without your help.’
I was almost in a trance, floating with fairies that lapped my sweat shivering skin with their tiny tongues and drank my tears like absinthe. The sulking army boots tramped toward me and then I was grabbed and lifted over his shoulder.
‘Simon’s in love with her, isn’t he? I’ll take her and then Simon will come to me and we can sort out our business.’
I could feel SB’s voice rumbling through him. His shoulder dug into my belly.
‘No, sir, please leave Ruby alone. Louise! Louise!’
She turned from the bar, her plait whipping over her shoulder like an angry snake, a mug of tea in each hand. With just a stride in her strapped up thigh high boots she was at his side.
‘My mistress says let her go.’
His mask scratched my leg as he turned to her. Suddenly the ground seemed a long way down. He laughed in her face, wobbling me precariously. When the scalding tea stung the back of my thigh, I screamed, as I hit the floor, I stopped, winded and pulling nothing into my lungs.
‘Now go or I’ll throw the other one over you.’
‘You’re not worth it, any of you!’ He spat, ‘I want to speak to Simon, that’s all. And you –‘
He pulled me onto my back. I gazed into the white mask, tears running freely across my cheeks and pooling in the curl of my ear.
‘You need to learn to break fall.’
‘Get out of here!’ Screamed Chez, her composure finally deserting her.
‘I’m going…for now but once I’ve spoken to Simon I will have to see about what to do with you and your motley crew.’
The gaze that passed between Louise and Satan’s Bitch as he walked away could have looked like love in its intensity, if the blisters hadn’t already been rising like miniature volcanoes on his chest from the tea. The door thumped behind him. There was silence for a moment and then the club goers collapsed in on me, stroking me, kissing my hair, pulling the blanket tight around me. All I could do was stare at the door and wish he would come back.

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