marvelling
in the solidity of it, at the ease with which she seemed to be able
to manoeuvre it for her pleasure, at the reliability of this big tool in her
own hands. She discovered there was a rounded protuberance at the
base which thrust up to kiss her clit if she twisted just
so—
'Yes!' she
shouted on the crest of a sudden orgasm.
'YES!!' she
cried as she rode the wave of ecstasy.
'Oh yes, yes,
yes!' she murmured as she wallowed in the afterglow, falling
forward onto the desk to cradle her head in her arms.
The ringing of
the telephone by her side woke her from a profound sleep. It was
Cassie.
'Hi, darling,
how's the war?' she said.
'Huh?' was all
Petra could manage.
'You sound
drugged. It's OK, I'll make this short. Philippe's about to come
any minute and God do I need a little workout.'
Petra was
awake now. She had a pretty good idea what Cassie was going to say
next and she wasn't disappointed.
'I'm just making sure you haven't forgotten about The Come-Again Lifestyle profile for the magazine. I've fixed it all up and Chastity's
going to analyse your results. So don't neglect the regime. Three
point six eight a day's your target. If I were you I'd round it up
to four.'
'Cassie, I've
been thinking—'
'Don't say it.
You're not weaselling out on me now, Petra Rosewater.'
That had been
Petra's intention. The more she'd thought about it the more she'd
been turned off by the whole thing. Especially after the Claire
Quartermain incident.
'Come on,
darling. It's a licence to fuck and it's healthy - what could be
better?'
'Look here,
Cassie,' said Petra firmly. You had to be firm with Cassie or you
got steamrollered. Cassie was Australian. She leaned forward to
make her point and suddenly became aware of a solid, comforting
feeling in her loins. The glass dildo was still buried deep inside
her.
'Don't you look-here me,' Cassie was saying. 'I'm counting on
you so you'd better
be counting your comes. How many have you had since last
night?'
Petra opened
her mouth to tell her, once and for all, to forget the whole thing.
Instead she heard herself say, 'Six.'
Cassie
laughed. 'You sly bitch. See if you can manage a couple more
tonight, then we can say you started yesterday.'
'But,
Cassie—'
'Philippe's at
the door, I've got to go. Two more tonight, darling. Go for
it.'
Petra gingerly
extracted the phallus from between her legs. To her amazement, it
had changed colour. The swirling indigo of the shaft had been
transformed into sunset orange and the great head had turned
pink.
She couldn't
resist. It was as if the thing was real. She plunged the
plum-shaped knob into her mouth.
She gorged on
the dummy penis, tasting the spice of the oil and the honey of her
own juices. She thrust it down her throat till she gagged, rubbed
the smooth head on the roof of her mouth, pushed the tip of her
tongue into the eye of the glans.
When she took
it out, the stem was a deep maroon and the head a flaming
scarlet.
She looked at
her watch. It was nearly seven. 'Sod Kelvin,' she said.
She put The
Magic Wand to the salivating mouth of her pussy and pushed
home.
Two more
tonight. She'd go for it all right.
Chapter
17
Tom lay still,
as instructed, on the sun-dappled flagstones and held a wadded ball
of paper tissue to his nose. His head sang and he could still feel
the weight of Maeve Slack's body on top of his as she pummelled
him. The bruises and scratches on his arms and chest smarted. Blood
congealed on his face and pooled beneath his head, matting his
hair. Behind him, just out of his vision, a bee buzzed. Inside the
flat he could hear the sounds of Maeve fetching water and towels.
He felt unaccountably serene.
She returned
and knelt down by his side. She began to clean him up, her hands no
longer aggressive but tender.
'I'm not
sorry,' she said. 'I must let my temper out or go mad. That's what
this last year has taught me.'
'I'm the one
who should apologise,' he said, which was truer than she realised -
or
in the solidity of it, at the ease with which she seemed to be able
to manoeuvre it for her pleasure, at the reliability of this big tool in her
own hands. She discovered there was a rounded protuberance at the
base which thrust up to kiss her clit if she twisted just
so—
'Yes!' she
shouted on the crest of a sudden orgasm.
'YES!!' she
cried as she rode the wave of ecstasy.
'Oh yes, yes,
yes!' she murmured as she wallowed in the afterglow, falling
forward onto the desk to cradle her head in her arms.
The ringing of
the telephone by her side woke her from a profound sleep. It was
Cassie.
'Hi, darling,
how's the war?' she said.
'Huh?' was all
Petra could manage.
'You sound
drugged. It's OK, I'll make this short. Philippe's about to come
any minute and God do I need a little workout.'
Petra was
awake now. She had a pretty good idea what Cassie was going to say
next and she wasn't disappointed.
'I'm just making sure you haven't forgotten about The Come-Again Lifestyle profile for the magazine. I've fixed it all up and Chastity's
going to analyse your results. So don't neglect the regime. Three
point six eight a day's your target. If I were you I'd round it up
to four.'
'Cassie, I've
been thinking—'
'Don't say it.
You're not weaselling out on me now, Petra Rosewater.'
That had been
Petra's intention. The more she'd thought about it the more she'd
been turned off by the whole thing. Especially after the Claire
Quartermain incident.
'Come on,
darling. It's a licence to fuck and it's healthy - what could be
better?'
'Look here,
Cassie,' said Petra firmly. You had to be firm with Cassie or you
got steamrollered. Cassie was Australian. She leaned forward to
make her point and suddenly became aware of a solid, comforting
feeling in her loins. The glass dildo was still buried deep inside
her.
'Don't you look-here me,' Cassie was saying. 'I'm counting on
you so you'd better
be counting your comes. How many have you had since last
night?'
Petra opened
her mouth to tell her, once and for all, to forget the whole thing.
Instead she heard herself say, 'Six.'
Cassie
laughed. 'You sly bitch. See if you can manage a couple more
tonight, then we can say you started yesterday.'
'But,
Cassie—'
'Philippe's at
the door, I've got to go. Two more tonight, darling. Go for
it.'
Petra gingerly
extracted the phallus from between her legs. To her amazement, it
had changed colour. The swirling indigo of the shaft had been
transformed into sunset orange and the great head had turned
pink.
She couldn't
resist. It was as if the thing was real. She plunged the
plum-shaped knob into her mouth.
She gorged on
the dummy penis, tasting the spice of the oil and the honey of her
own juices. She thrust it down her throat till she gagged, rubbed
the smooth head on the roof of her mouth, pushed the tip of her
tongue into the eye of the glans.
When she took
it out, the stem was a deep maroon and the head a flaming
scarlet.
She looked at
her watch. It was nearly seven. 'Sod Kelvin,' she said.
She put The
Magic Wand to the salivating mouth of her pussy and pushed
home.
Two more
tonight. She'd go for it all right.
Chapter
17
Tom lay still,
as instructed, on the sun-dappled flagstones and held a wadded ball
of paper tissue to his nose. His head sang and he could still feel
the weight of Maeve Slack's body on top of his as she pummelled
him. The bruises and scratches on his arms and chest smarted. Blood
congealed on his face and pooled beneath his head, matting his
hair. Behind him, just out of his vision, a bee buzzed. Inside the
flat he could hear the sounds of Maeve fetching water and towels.
He felt unaccountably serene.
She returned
and knelt down by his side. She began to clean him up, her hands no
longer aggressive but tender.
'I'm not
sorry,' she said. 'I must let my temper out or go mad. That's what
this last year has taught me.'
'I'm the one
who should apologise,' he said, which was truer than she realised -
or
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