Most of my books have sex in them because sex is part of life. I’ve usually tried to censor myself in some way so my books would be more accepted by the general reading public. In 2019, I decided to follow the advice of an author friend and drop the self-censoring. The Trouble With Trouble, Trouble In Cornwall, and Troubled are the results. They follow on from Book 1, The Trouble With Liam, a psychological thriller that can be found on Amazon in Kindle, paperback, and audiobook editions.
In April 2020, I published The Trouble With Trouble in paperback and Kindle on Amazon. It’s Book 2 of The Trouble series of thrillers. It tells what happens when a police forensic scientist invents a sexual arousal cream called Trouble. DCI Jeremy Cosgrove, who appears in Book 1, finds himself up to his neck in serious trouble when he and three women who work with him at a Sheffield police station are blackmailed into performing unspeakable acts to save their public reputations.
I also published Book 3, Trouble In Cornwall in 2020. DCI Cosgrove finds himself in more deep trouble. He and Kate, his highly sexed family liaison officer, are sent to Cornwall to investigate the kidnap of Wayne, Jessie O’Sullivan’s young son.
In 2021, I published Troubled, where DCI Cosgrove investigates the murder of a sixteen-year-old girl, whose naked body is found on the banks of the River Don in Sheffield. The investigation leads him into the dark world of a grooming gang who have laid their hands on Trouble cream.
There is explicit sex in books 2, 3, and 4 of The Trouble series because of their subject matter, even more than in The Trouble With Liam. There are a couple of chapters in The Trouble With Liam which I almost deleted due to my worries they might be too sexually explicit. I’m glad I didn’t because I’ve had no backlash and mostly 5-star reviews for the book.
Below, I’ve uploaded the first three chapters of The Trouble With Trouble, Trouble In Cornwall, Troubled, and Nuru And His Crows.
I’d welcome your comments and suggestions. There’s a comment box at the bottom of my Home page.
THE TROUBLE WITH TROUBLE
Chapter 1. The Car Park
Whenever DCI Jeremy Cosgrove’s stunning new liaison officer sashayed by, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Kate Pendleton had joined his well-respected crime-busting team in Sheffield four months before. It unsettled him how increasingly aroused he was by the alluring brunette’s overtly sexual aura. Jeremy had never strayed from his dull, eighteen-year marriage to Sabrina and was no womaniser. Kate was the only female to tempt him.
Her often inappropriate flirtatious remarks, delivered in her attractive Welsh accent, drove him wild. It was a daily struggle to maintain his professionalism and resist flirting back with the twenty-five-year-old singleton. Jeremy never imagined that perfectly formed Kate would even glance his way, but she was showing interest in him.
Jeremy was no Adonis, just an average-looking, tall, stern-faced, sandy-haired senior detective in his late forties. His clothing consisted solely of beige suits, white shirts, beige ties, and matching shoes. His limited wardrobe choices drove his wife to distraction but he needed simplicity in a busy professional life. Sabrina Cosgrove tried valiantly to convince her husband to buy more adventurous clothes, but he was having none of it.
As Kate’s senior officer, it was Jeremy’s duty to mentor her and to discipline her if necessary. There were so many ways for the Welsh beauty to mess up and she frequently did. Her errors gave Jeremy the excuse to sit behind his desk and watch her blush, twist her long brown hair around her fingers and stare at the floor with her large hazel eyes as he told her how unprofessional she’d been.
Kate flirted outrageously with any male, triggering Jeremy’s jealousy. Her inappropriate behaviour with male colleagues prompted him to summon her to his office for another scolding. The more Jeremy asserted his authority over Kate during their busy working week at the station, the more she seemed to relish it. Jeremy found he was calling her into his office more than was necessary solely to reprimand her. His heart raced with anticipation whenever she arrived late for work or filled in her paperwork incorrectly.
DCI Cosgrove wasn’t daft. He could tell Kate was aroused by his deep voice admonishing her in the privacy of his office. On one such occasion, he thought, Hate to admit it, but I’m turned on too whenever I use my authority over such a stunner. Jeremy relied on his desk to hide his arousal as the sexual tension crackled between them. Although his lust for Kate was almost too strong to bear, his professionalism had so far prevented him from making a move on her, but he often fantasised about doing so.
Sultry dawn was breaking when DCI Cosgrove and Kate began an obscenely early shift at the station. The sun had barely risen yet the heat was stifling. Sheffield was in the middle of a prolonged heatwave. Kate had turned up late yet again after a night of passion with a French chef she’d been flirting with online. She looked immaculate despite her shocking sexual activities with Pierre only hours before.
Three days earlier, there’d been a fatal stabbing of a thirty-two-year-old man called Steven Edgeworth who’d lived on Telford Estate in Sheffield. Jeremy and Kate planned to drive over to the crime scene and meet DS Alan Niles and DS Theresa Smart to carry out further investigations. As the team’s liaison officer, Kate was scheduled to meet the victim’s father, Dr Norman Edgeworth, to offer him support.
Before Jeremy and Kate were due to leave the station to drive over to Telford Estate, he summoned her to his office to ask her the reason for her late arrival. Blushing, she said, ‘I’m sorry, sir. My alarm didn’t go off.’
‘That’s the third time this week, Kate. Maybe you should consider buying a new clock,’ said Jeremy, watching her squirm in front of him with her hands clasped behind her back. She’s doing that on purpose to force her big boobs right in my face, he thought with his penis twitching. In his sternest voice, he said, ‘Your atrocious time-keeping is unprofessional and unacceptable, young lady. This is your final warning.’
Kate bowed her head, causing her glossy dark hair to hang like a curtain over her high cheekbones. Her large hazel eyes looked up at him appealingly through their unusually long lashes. I reckon she misbehaves on purpose so I’ll summon her to my office for a good telling off. Strange girl. Damn! She’s smirking. I think she’s spotted my semi.
After her reprimand, they took the lift in silence down to the depths of the basement of the police car park, an area designated for only senior officers’ cars. During their descent, Kate looked at the floor and shifted from foot to foot. It was so early, not a soul was in sight. Jeremy’s sleek black car was the only vehicle on the basement level. The lack of cars was due to Jeremy’s senior colleagues either being on leave or attending an important seminar being held in Leeds that morning.
Jeremy’s heart skipped a beat when Kate clambered into the passenger seat of his car. Her floaty skirt had risen dramatically, displaying more of her sheer black stockings and suspenders than was decent. She’s flashing me on purpose, he thought, unsettled by how fast his penis had hardened. She’s not even bothering to pull down her skirt again. Can’t she see she’s giving me palpitations? Not sure I can drive with this hard-on. Come on Jeremy, pull yourself together. You’re on duty.
‘Um… sort your skirt out, Kate.’
‘What if I don’t want to, sir?’ she whispered, glancing sideways at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
Confused by her rare act of defiance, Jeremy was struck dumb as he wondered if he’d heard Kate correctly. He stared in disbelief as she slowly inched the thin material higher to above the crotch of her semi-transparent black thong and slightly parted her thighs. He was beyond astonished when she murmured in her soft Welsh accent, ‘You can touch if you want to, sir.’
Looking from the thong’s tantalising contents to her wicked eyes then back to her thong, Jeremy mumbled, ‘Pardon?’
He gasped as she smiled and parted her thighs further. ‘I said you can touch, sir,’ she whispered, provocatively running a red-taloned finger up and down the crotch of her thong. ‘Feel how wet you’ve made me.’
Slowly gyrated her hips in her seat, Kate squirmed as though in the grip of uncontrollable lust. The underground car park was brightly lit, so her boss could take in every detail through the delicate black material. The clear outline of her slightly parted, plump, hairless labia was more inviting to him than a chicken dinner with all the trimmings.
Undoing his seat belt, Jeremy leaned over and tentatively ran his long fingers over her thong’s warm surface. As a red-blooded male, he wanted more. When she pulled her knees wider, he gulped at the sight of her pronounced clitoral hood pressing against the material.
‘Well, nobody can accuse you of being shy, Kate. Are you sure about this? I don’t want to be slapped with a molestation lawsuit,’ he said.
‘I can’t say it any clearer than I’ve said it, unless you want a written invitation. I’ve fantasised about you touching me for weeks. Go ahead. Touch me,’ she said.
Jeremy thought, I’ve not had a sniff of sex in months. Opportunities like this don’t come along every day, not with a stunner like Kate. Checking the coast was still clear, he bent lower and rubbed firmly over the material, forcing it between her succulent labia.
To his surprise and delight, Kate raised her right leg and sandwiched it between his long thighs to improve his view. Gripping the edge of her thong’s crotch, she yanked the flimsy material to one side. With her thumb and middle finger, she parted her labia, exposing her entire wet vulva to Jeremy’s hungry eyes.
Sweating with arousal, Jeremy thought, Wow! That’s the wettest, most scrumptious pussy I’ve ever seen. I should put her on a charge for gross misconduct, but I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone more. Dare I go any further? It’d be wrong on so many levels.
Seeing him waver, Kate pulled back her clitoral hood and proudly displayed her prominent clitoris. ‘Go on. Rub it, sir. I want you to,’ she whispered, smiling up at him impishly.
It all looked so inviting, Jeremy’s resolve to behave snapped. No longer able to resist, he stretched out two fingers and gently rubbed Kate’s slippery, glistening nub.
Her eyes widened and she held her breath as they watched his fingers become a blur, coaxing her towards an orgasm. Gripping the sides of her car seat, she murmured, ‘Rub harder… Yes. Just like that… Oh, my God… It feels amazing. Quick. Slide your fingers inside me.’
All Jeremy’s wet dreams over the past four months were coming true. It’d be rude not to, he thought, pushing two fingers deep into his officer’s tight, wet hole. Kate bucked on his probing digits as they moved like pistons. Jeremy knew he must act quickly to evade being caught. She’s loving it, he thought, beside himself with lust.
She whispered, ‘Rip the crotch of my panties in two.’
‘Just slide them off, Kate,’ said Jeremy. ‘Seems a shame to destroy them.’
‘No. Rip them. It’s more exciting,’ she said.
The material was so delicate, her thong lay in tatters on his car’s mat in a few seconds. Taking a sly sniff as he retrieved it, Jeremy pushed what remained of his liaison officer’s underwear into his jacket pocket. Nobody, especially Sabrina, must find the evidence. It’ll be safer in my pocket until I can hide it at home.
Pushing back her seat, Kate daintily placed her left foot clad in its black patent high-heeled shoe onto the dashboard. Angling her vulva towards him, she said, ‘This’ll make it easier, sir.’
‘Perfect,’ he whispered, simultaneously fingering her and feverishly rubbing her hard nub. He thought, I should tell Kate to call me Jeremy, but it turns me on when she calls me sir in that sexy Welsh accent. Wish we weren’t stuck in this damned car, although Kate’s making great use of the space. She’s so flexible.
With impressive agility, Kate shifted position so her boss could bury his head between her legs. Gyrating on his tongue, she moaned and gibbered nonsense. Suddenly, she sat upright, her face contorted in agony. Jeremy wiped his wet chin and said, ‘What’s up? Did I hurt you?’
‘No… Got cramp in my bloody calf,’ she said, gasping with pain and rubbing her leg.
To his delight, while he’d been concentrating between her legs, Kate had undone her blouse and pulled her ample, perfect breasts over the top of her exotic bra.
‘My leg’s okay now, sir. Thought I’d pop out these two bad boys to meet you,’ she said, placing her foot back on the dashboard and jiggling her breasts to entice him, not that he needed much enticing.
Jeremy’s mouth was too dry to answer, but his expression showed his approval. Perfect breasts, he thought as he watched her tug her erect nipples. Those are the sexiest, puffiest nipples I’ve ever seen. They put Sabrina’s saggy tits and boring, flat nipples to shame. Must suck them.
Kate licked each one slowly and provocatively. ‘All natural. Nothing fake about me, sir,’ she purred, offering them up to his mouth.
Jeremy licked and sucked each nipple as his fingers worked deep inside her. Fingering her hard and fast, he was amazed at how many orgasms shuddered through her body.
Multiorgasmic, he thought. So different to Sabrina. Mrs Frigid’s never had an orgasm, try as I might to give her one. He grinned as Kate shuddered and came again, this time squirting three small jets of clear liquid from between her legs in an arc. Watching the droplets on the car’s mat, Jeremy thought, Wow! I’ve never made a woman gush before. Must remember to wipe up afterwards. He glowed with pride after witnessing what he interpreted as the visible evidence of Kate’s desire for him.
Jeremy loved how eager she was for his fingers and tongue to roam freely over her body, even her anus. Dirty mare, he thought as his tongue prodded deep inside her rectum. His exploration only ceased when Kate unbuckled his belt and unzipped his beige trousers. Jeremy sat back and fondled her breasts as she stretched out the front of his boxers to admire his manhood.
‘Hello, hello, hello. What do we have down here, sir?’ she said with a wicked grin. ‘I’d hoped you’d be well-endowed and I’m not disappointed. Let me get at it. Pull down your trousers and boxers.’
With lust making him forget where he was, Jeremy stripped naked from the waist down, bunching his trousers and boxers around his ankles. Kate hungrily swallowed him down her throat without any hint of a gag. Cosgrove’s heart swelled with pride as he thought, She called me well-endowed. Must admit, my dick is larger than average, not that Sabrina ever cared. Jeremy’s head tilted back and he closed his eyes, relishing Kate’s oral talents. His fingers teased her clitoris and jabbed inside her after she’d thoughtfully placed her foot back on his dashboard.
Kate’s dark hair bobbed up and down in Jeremy’s lap as he marvelled at how expertly her tongue was swirling around the tip. As she rubbed up and down his shaft before swallowing him again, he thought, Not had a BJ since before I was married. I’ve died and gone to heaven. Her pussy feels so good squeezing my fingers… I’m… So… Close.
Unfortunately for Jeremy, he wasn’t quite close enough. They were so engrossed with each other, they failed to notice the tall, broad-shouldered, shaven-headed man carrying a black holdall bag who was approaching their car at speed from the corridor leading to the car park. The muscle-bound thirty-five-year-old wore a black short-sleeved shirt, black trousers. On his right hand was a blue latex glove.
Chapter 2. Rude Interruption
Loud, authoritative rapping of massive knuckles on the car’s windscreen made Kate disgorge Jeremy’s penis. Squealing with surprise, she jerked back in her seat, still gripping Jeremy’s wet manhood. Frozen rigid, they stared at the grinning stranger holding a phone to his eye.
Kate’s left foot, clad in its stylish black stiletto, was still wedged near the top of the steering wheel, leaving her vulva exposed to the phone’s camera lens. Jeremy was too startled to consider covering his erection, glistening with Kate’s saliva. All he could do was gawp in disbelief at the man as he filmed their serious indiscretion.
The new arrival was a stranger to Kate but Jeremy immediately recognised Grant Trafford, the uncouth guard who worked in the station’s security camera room. There’d been no love lost between the pair since Jeremy had reprimanded Grant for spitting out gum outside the lift in the basement’s corridor.
The ruggedly attractive man crouched close to Kate’s window, his smartphone glued to his dark eye. Licking his full lips, he scanned up and down the brunette’s quivering, naked body, making sure Jeremy’s startled face and penis were also visible.
Paralysed with fear, Kate was in turmoil over being caught naked with her boss but eventually managed to set both feet on the car’s floor and cover her pubic area with her hands. Her mouth hung open and her glossy red lips trembled with fear as she stared at the undeniably good-looking stranger, praying he’d disappear.
Still filming, Grant said, ‘Open your window, Kate, or I’ll make these incriminating videos public. Don’t even think of driving off, Cosgrove. You’ll deeply regret it. If you don’t want the world to see these mucky videos, do everything I say.’
Wondering how the hunk knew her name, Kate shook her head and pleaded with him to leave. When the security guard narrowed his eyes and repeated his order, she reluctantly tapped the switch and lowered the window a couple of inches. Irritated by Kate only opening it a crack, the burly man raised a bushy black eyebrow and said, ‘Don’t be a stupid bitch. Open your window completely so we can talk. Put your foot back up on the dashboard. If you don’t, I’ll release the videos. I already have plenty of open-snatch shots of you and ones of you wanking your boss or with his cock down your throat, but I’m greedy. I want more.’
Terrified he’d show the videos of their indiscretion to the world, Kate pressed the switch. As soon as the window was fully lowered, she squealed as Grant’s head and smartphone darted through it. Kate tentatively placed her foot back on the dashboard. Her exposed vulva was once again a delicious, inviting banquet spread out before her boss, and Grant, unfortunately for Jeremy. Zooming in to film a close-up, Grant said, ‘Knees further apart, Kate… Wider… Oh, hell, yeah! Deliciously wet. You’re a proper Juicy Lucy. Cute butthole, too.’
Jeremy tried to grab the phone, leaving his penis exposed for Grant to film. Enraged his erection was in the same video containing a naked female posing lewdly in the foreground, the detective shielded it with his hands, shouting, ‘Stop filming us, you pervert! Close your legs for Christ’s sake, Kate.’
‘I daren’t, sir,’ she whimpered.
Grant stood back, silently tinkering with his phone. ‘Too late for modesty, Cosgrove. I’ve shot more than enough videos to destroy you both and have emailed them to my email account. Kate’s wise to keep displaying all her goods to me. From now on, you two are mine. Hand me your car keys, Cosgrove. Don’t want you driving off.’
Jeremy tossed the keys onto the car park floor and muttered, ‘Hope you choke on them, you pig.’
‘Yeah. You tell him, sir,’ said Kate.
‘Silence, you two! Don’t piss me off. Put your hands on your heads,’ said Grant, his phone zooming from their genitals to their shocked, blushing faces and back again.
Although raging inside, Jeremy and Kate placed their hands on their heads in the hope that pleasing the guard might save their reputations. Seeing Kate nervously glancing around the car park, Grant said, ‘Relax, sugar tits. Some of my friends are making sure nobody appears to spoil my fun. We won’t be disturbed until I’m done with you.’
Erect and aching to come, Jeremy’s anxiety levels soared even higher when Grant flung open Kate’s car door. Despite knowing the damage had already been done, she instinctively placed one arm across her breasts, closed her legs and began surreptitiously inching her skirt down to cover her groin.
She’d almost succeeded in covering her nakedness when the muscle-bound Adonis pointed the phone between her legs and snarled, ‘Oh, no you don’t, you silly tart. Pull off your skirt. It’s annoying me… Now, clasp your hands on your head and put your foot back up on the dashboard… Bend your knees out sideways as far as you can. Your boss and I want to see all your goods, including your starfish… Perfect. Cosgrove, take a closer look at both Kate’s holes… Push your head closer… Tickle her clit with your tongue… Don’t argue. Do it now… Good boy. My next video will be of you making this sexy bitch come.’
‘You must be bloody kidding. I’m Kate’s boss. I’ll do no such thing,’ said Jeremy.
Kate whispered in her boss’s ear, ‘Do what he says so we can end this nightmare, sir.’
Jeremy ignored her, saying, ‘Fuck off, Trafford, or I’ll arrest you.’
Grant laughed in his face. ‘Nah, you won’t, and I’ll tell you why. I watched all your performance on one of the screens in my CCTV room. Everything’s recorded. So, stick two fingers in her pussy as you lick her clit or you’ll deeply regret defying me. I fancy shooting close-ups of you making her come. Do it.’
Trying to pretend he wasn’t highly aroused, Cosgrove looked apologetically at Kate and said, ‘Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind, Kate.’
Grant sighed with irritation. ‘For Christ’s sake, man, just follow my orders. No? Okay. I can see you need explicit directions. Suck her nipples… Tug them with your teeth… Good. Lean forward so I can film you checking how wet she is… Hands off your head, Kate. Pop your clit out for him… There it is… What a whopper. Lick it, Cosgrove.’
Embarrassed his leaking penis was showing his acute state of arousal, Jeremy said, ‘Stop this now, Grant. You’ve gone way too far,’ said Jeremy.
‘Silence!’ snarled Grant. ‘Lick her clit or else… And again… Keep licking… Jab two fingers in her pussy… Faster… Oh, yes… Sounds mighty juicy in there.’
‘Please, leave us alone,’ said Kate, cringing with embarrassment as her vaginal sounds grew louder.
Grant said, ‘Shush, Juicy Lucy, so my phone can capture the sound of your boss finger blasting you… Keep those fingers moving as you lick her… Faster… Oh, my! Those sounds are turning me on so much, girl… Let’s listen… Music to my ears… Move your fingers from side to side in her, too. Beat her batter… Perfect… Pancakes, anyone?’
Jeremy raised his head and muttered, ‘You’re a disgusting, evil monster, Trafford.’
Grant chuckled as he toyed with Kate’s breasts with his free hand. ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones. Move your fingers faster… Keep licking. She’ll come any second now… Yes! There she blows! Kate’s three squirts on the mat will be a bonus feature for this video… Cosgrove, smile as you show the camera your slippery fingers… Suck them… Good job. Let’s all look at the videos. Your cock looks fit to burst in the background of this one. What would Mrs Cosgrove do to you if she saw you enjoying making this tasty piece of ass come?’
‘You wouldn’t dare show her,’ said Jeremy.
‘That’s where you’re wrong. I’d love to show her every video, so don’t provoke me.’
Tearfully regretting ever seducing her boss, Kate looked up beseechingly at Grant. ‘Please, leave us alone. My family must never see this filth. You don’t know how straight-laced they are. Haven’t you humiliated us enough?’
Grant said, ‘Not by a long chalk. I’m going nowhere, love. A sexpot like you deserves better than him. Sit back, Cosgrove, and watch an expert make this fine filly come. Lean forward, Kate, so your boss can handcuff your wrists behind you.’
Removing a pair of handcuffs from his holdall, Grant passed them to Jeremy who reluctantly bound his liaison officer’s wrists behind her, forcing her uptilting bare breasts to jut out further.
‘Your titties are as awesome as your pussy, Kate,’ said Grant, tweaking and licking her nipples. Despite her fear, Kate was perversely aroused by Grant’s touch and his admiration of her body. When the security guard parted her labia to film her most intimate areas, it troubled her to find she was helpfully angling her vulva so he could film it more easily.
Jeremy glared at her reproachfully, growing more incensed when she ignored his silent plea to act more modestly. He didn’t know his family liaison officer was used to exposing her private parts to strangers.
In her spare time, Kate had grown addicted to the thrill of exposing and pleasuring every part of her naked body online during cybersex with random masturbating men of all ages and nationalities. Kate knew it was wrong and dangerous, but she relished the thrill of making men hard. They egged her on, knowing the wild woman was reckless enough to let them watch her. Her mission was to have multiple orgasms, knowing the men would also come as they watched and listened. In the police station’s car park, Kate’s perfect, naked body had made two men rock solid.
Placing his phone on top of the car’s roof, Grant said, ‘I need two hands for this. Watch and learn, Cosgrove.’
Pulling a length of thin rope from his holdall, Grant opened the door, tied one end around Kate’s left knee, wrapped it around a grab handle on the car’s ceiling and pulled it tight so her knee was held firmly in position up in the air.
Kate moaned and her body tensed as Grant worked on her. He looked up and said, ‘Oh, you really like that, don’t you, sexy? Women say I possess the magic touch.’
His victims didn’t notice Grant secretly dip the latex-gloved index finger of his right hand into an open jar in his pocket. His gloved hand darted through the open window like a striking cobra and forced the cream-coated finger between Kate’s parted labia. With the handcuffs and rope preventing her from protecting herself, Kate shrieked as Grant’s finger smeared her clitoris with a cold, slimy substance, then poked deep inside her vagina.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ wailed Kate. Next second, she froze, holding her breath, her eyes wide with panic and confusion. ‘Something weird’s happening. It’s like… It’s like… Oh, fuck! I must come. What’s he done to my clit? Feels like it’s growing. Check if it is, sir.’
When she began writhing as though in pain, Jeremy gripped her arm to try to calm her, saying, ‘Try to stay still while I look… That’s odd. Your clit’s growing before my eyes. Your vagina’s fluttering, clenching, and gaping. It’s going berserk.’ Turning to Grant, he said, ‘What have you done to her, you bastard?
Grant said, ‘Now Kate’s in the grip of Trouble arousal cream, it’s safe for you to remove her rope and handcuffs.’ As Jeremy began to free her, Grant lifted Kate’s breasts to his mouth and said, ‘I fancy sucking these beauties before it’s too late.’
Kate was too worried about the sensations and changes in her vulva to care about Grant mauling her nipples. When they were rock hard, wet, and erect, he said, ‘Pull her nips with your teeth for the next video, Cosgrove.’
‘Before I do that, what did you mean when you said, “before it’s too late?” What are you planning?’ said Jeremy before faking a smile and tugging Kate’s nipples with his teeth.
Panting and wild-eyed as the powerful tingling between her legs intensified, Kate frantically rubbed between her legs. ‘Never mind my boobs. If someone doesn’t make me come, I’ll do it myself. ‘Make this horrible feeling stop. It’s too powerful.’
Moving his phone closer, Grant said, ‘You’ll feel super-horny like this for several hours, so get used to it. Stop rubbing, Kate so your boss can show my camera your swollen bean… Your liaison officer is such a dirty girl, Cosgrove. She needs punishing. Spank her clit with two fingers… This is karma, Kate. It’s punishment for being a dirty home-wrecker. I’ve seen you strutting around the station in your sexy little suits with your nose in the air. You’re not so prim and proper now, are you? Look at you splayed out naked while your boss spanks your pussy.’
Kate knew she should protect her modesty, but the powerful urge to force her knees wide and thrust her hips up at her abuser had increased to unbearable levels.
Not before time, Jeremy’s brain unscrambled enough for him to speak up. ‘Stop filming her, you filthy bastard! It’s criminal assault.’
‘Settle down, you jealous old man. Put your hands on your head and watch Kate fucking my fingers… She’s so tight… I’m keeping my fingers still, so you must do all the work, Kate… Keep thrusting those hips until you come, girl.’
Moving her hips up and down frantically, Kate’s eyes looked crazed as she stared at Jeremy. ‘Sorry, boss. I can’t help it. The cream’s making me do it.’
Grant said, ‘Don’t bother about him, Kate. Concentrate on me. You’re married with kids, aren’t you, Cosgrove? Not me. I’m happily single and ready to mingle with this hottie, who’ll be coming any second.’
He winked at Kate as she came on his fingers. Blushing, she watched Grant undress until he stood before them proudly naked from the waist down.
‘What’s going on? The urge to come is as strong as ever,’ wailed Kate, rubbing herself.
Baffled by her urgent need to come so soon after her last orgasm, Kate was transfixed by Grant’s naked body. Her fear was mixed with anticipation and extreme arousal. Grant was more handsome and virile than her boss, more the type of macho male she’d normally seek out for sex.
Kate gazed lustfully at the well-defined V-shape travelling down from Grant’s waist to his ramrod-straight erection which was even meatier than what her boss had to offer her. By the look of him, Grant works out, she thought, ‘His cock curves upwards. Perfect for hitting my G-spot. She gyrated her hips, hoping to alleviate the powerful tingling. It only made the sensation more extreme. Jeremy looked livid as she provocatively thrust her vulva up at Grant, offering it to him.
Grinning, Grant picked up his phone and said, ‘It’s clear you’re desperate to come again. To cover my back, I need to video you giving me your clear consent. Tell the camera how much you want me to give you another orgasm.’
Jeremy was aghast to hear Kate say, ‘Yes. Yes, I consent. Make me come for fuck’s sake.’
She thrust her vulva closer to Grant, not caring he was videoing it. Her large eyes beseeched him to relieve her all-encompassing vaginal ache. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to come on the controlling man’s fingers, penis, or anything else which could do the job. If Grant had been ninety-six, thirty stone with halitosis, she’d still have begged him to end her unbearable frustration.
Grant smirked. ‘As I now have Kate’s clear consent, as well as videos of your adultery, Cosgrove, keep your hands on your head while I help this fair maiden in distress.’
Kate felt his hot breath ripple across her groin. When his fingers slid back inside her, she made a feeble attempt to knock his hand away.
Grant wasn’t buying her rejection. ‘Don’t play coy with me just because your boss is watching you, Kate. I know you’re aching for me to fuck you now the cream’s working at full force. Judging by the way you’re looking at me, you’d gladly fuck me even without the cream. Look, Cosgrove. I’m right. She’s blushing. Spread your legs wider, girl.’
Jeremy was stunned when Kate spread her legs so wide, her right knee was resting across Jeremy’s thighs, while the left one was pressed hard against the car’s interior wall. As Grant brutally fingered her, his phone panned up Kate’s body to shoot her rapturous expression. Grant chuckled as he videoed Jeremy’s confused, angry face.
‘Your private parts are not quite so private now, are they, Kate? The lighting’s bright down here, so everything you two did before I showed up has been recorded in the CCTV room. My mates will love watching these videos with me. Your wife would also be interested to see my recordings, Cosgrove. Bet your cock’s never been so hard, has it? Keep your hands on your head. I want a close-up of your precum.’
‘You vile monster,’ spluttered Jeremy above the noise of Kate’s moans and pleas for sexual satisfaction. He groaned with embarrassed dismay as two drops of pre-cum dribbled down his shaft and dripped onto his seat.
Ignoring Jeremy’s insult, Grant continued working on the desperate woman’s request. ‘I’ve always had my eyes on you, Kate. I’ve been watching you as you work and fancied you ever since you joined Cosgrove’s team. Never thought I’d have my fingers deep inside you so soon, but you two numpties played right into my hands. Won’t be long until I’m balls deep in your liaison officer, Cosgrove.’
‘Hope you like prison food, Trafford,’ said Jeremy despite never feeling more feeble and ineffectual.
Grant glared at him. ‘Silence, Cosgrove. One more peep from you and I’ll wipe some Trouble on your bellend. You’ll be wanking all day. Kate, slowly lick that pre-cum off the tip of his dick for the camera… Nice and slow. Suck the tip but not too much. Don’t want him shooting his load. Your wife would skin you alive if she saw Kate doing that to you, Cosgrove.’
Struggling not to moan with pleasure as Kate sucked him, Jeremy thought, Grant’s stronger than me. He could easily grab my todger and smear cream on it. I’d better stay quiet. The cream’s having a dramatic effect on Kate, so I dread to think what it’d do to me. With the Edgeworth murder to investigate today, I can’t afford to spend hours wanking in the toilet. God… Her mouth feels superb.
‘Oi!’ said Grant. ‘Stop trying to push it down her throat. I said suck only the tip. Stop sucking the greedy pig, Kate, and show us how large your clit’s grown… It’s bloody enormous. Cosgrove, feel how hard it is while I video you rubbing it. You can easily rub it from where you’re sitting.’
Jeremy saw Grant’s phone point at their faces, then pan down, following the direction of Jeremy’s hands as he tentatively leaned forward and massaged her supersized, glistening clitoris with two fingers of his right hand while Kate begged him to rub it faster.
With two fingers pumping inside Kate as he rubbed her expanding clitoris, Jeremy muttered, ‘Are you some kind of frustrated, sadistic film director, Trafford?’
His fingers tingled badly from moving about in the cream, yet the detective was hugely turned on, yearning to plunge his penis deep inside her.
Grant said, ‘She’s so close… Here it comes. Keep smiling for the camera, you two.’
Kate tensed. Her head tilted back and her mouth gaped open, more a grimace than a smile. The men watched in awe as a deluge of clear liquid shot from between her legs, hit the car’s dashboard then dripped onto the mat. Kate groaned with embarrassment about gushing in front of the attractive, dominant stranger and her boss.
As soon as she’d come, Kate was overcome with the urge to come again. It panicked her. What the bloody hell’s happening to me? she thought, rubbing her clitoris frantically.
‘Wow! I’ve never seen a female shoot their load as far as that before,’ said Grant. ‘This new batch of Trouble arousal cream is fucking awesome. The Prof’s a genius. He’ll earn millions when Trouble cream goes on sale. No wonder he’s called it Trouble. Kate’s in all kinds of trouble judging by how fast she’s rubbing. The batch of cream I used on her isn’t even as strong as the formula The Prof’s working on now.’
‘Who’s the Prof?’ said Jeremy.
The security guard laughed and said, ‘You don’t honestly think I’d tell you, do you?’ He held up his phone and ordered his victims to view some of the videos. ‘Look how perfectly I’ve captured that gush, even if I say so myself. Feeling faint, Cosgrove? Is your face too visible in each shot? Well, tough luck. It’s meant to be. These videos are my insurance policy. Each one I shoot strengthens my hold over you both.’
‘How much money do you want to keep this quiet, Trafford?’ said Jeremy.
‘I’m not after your money. I’m wealthy enough. All I want is sex with gorgeous, horny Kate whenever I want and with whoever I tell her to fuck. All I demand from you, detective, is your silence and complete cooperation.’
Masturbating as though her life depended on it, despite being filmed, Kate secretly was desperate to feel Grant Trafford’s hard penis inside her, sooner rather than later. As a sex addict, even the idea of sex with strangers appealed to her. It was already part of Kate’s seedy private life away from the station.
Chapter 3. Blackmailed
Grant stepped back from Jeremy’s car. His two traumatised victims watched as he fiddled with his phone. ‘There. I’ve forwarded the next batch of videos to my email account. They’re all safe and untouchable. I can now retrieve the material from anywhere by accessing my email account. Isn’t technology wonderful? In case you’re thinking of killing me or something daft like that, I’m forwarding the material to Logan and some of the other guys to enjoy. If anything happens to me, my friends will distribute the footage to wherever it’ll do you both the maximum harm.’
Wish I’d had the guts to grab his phone and smash it before he’d forwarded such horribly embarrassing and incriminating videos, thought Jeremy. Sabrina would slaughter me if she ever sees them. I wouldn’t mind losing my wife, but I can’t lose my kids and reputation. Jeremy said, ‘Who are Logan and the guys? Nobody should view these videos.’
‘Never you mind,’ said Grant. ‘You’ll find out soon enough. Kate, stop masturbating and get out of the car.’
Hoping this would be the moment Grant would plunge his penis inside her, Kate turned and placed her left foot onto the car park floor. To her dismay and Jeremy’s horror, the spiked heel of her right shoe caught in his ripped car mat. Her foot was trapped inside the car. She’d normally have been able to slide her foot out of the shoe. Unfortunately, the pair she’d chosen to wear that morning had straps around her ankles.
Kate struggled to free her heel from the mat but it wouldn’t come loose. Jeremy grew agitated the more Grant’s fingers probed the trapped brunette. Damn it! he thought. I knew I should’ve bought a new car mat and thrown out this tatty one.
Grant fished inside his holdall. ‘Is your heel caught, pretty Kate? What a shame. No, leave your other leg out of the car. Stay like that. Get out of the car, Cosgrove. No, leave your trousers and boxers around your ankles. What firm buttocks you have, detective. Hobble over here in front of Kate. She’s going to suck your dick while I film it… Perfect… That’s enough. Stop sucking him, Kate. Cosgrove, crouch down and use this vibrator at full power on her clit. Hold it still against her clit while you use this dildo in her… That’s it… Both keep smiling until she gushes again… Let’s see if she can hit you in the face with it… Oh, nearly. Lick it off your arm, detective.’
‘Can’t take much more of this,’ said Kate.
Grant shrugged and said, ‘I’d better hurry up and fuck you then. You seem alarmed by how easily you gush. Trouble cream makes a woman gush like a burst water mains, even if she’s never squirted before. Can’t wait to watch all these videos at home on my large-screen telly with the lads. Keep smiling, Kate. Smile and thank your boss for your orgasm.’
Kate’s dark eyes were wild with unsated lust. Smiling at Jeremy as best she could, she said, ‘Thank you for making me come, sir.’
Grant patted her dark hair. ‘Good girl. Cosgrove, smile as you tweak and tug her nipples while I film you… Roll them between your fingers. Enough. Damn, you’re going soft again. Stand up so Kate can rub it… Not too much, remember.’
Grant’s phone panned slowly up and down their bodies. Jeremy groaned as Kate rubbed his penis. It felt so good, he was struggling not to come on film. He was too occupied to see Grant’s gloved fingers probing and prodding between her buttocks. Before Kate could prevent it, two of his cream-covered fingers slid deep inside her rectum.
Affronted, Kate released Jeremy’s penis and said, ‘Stop poking it! I don’t want anal sex. My problem’s elsewhere.’
With chilling arrogance, Grant said, ‘Your pussy can wait. I can do whatever I like now, love. You’ll be begging me to fuck your arse any second now.’
Jeremy bristled with rage at the man’s audacity but thought, Damn! Wish I was Grant right now.
A powerful tingling sensation was building between Kate’s buttocks. ‘It’s like an army of ants,’ she squealed.
‘Fancy this big black dildo in there?’ said the gloating security guard, tickling her anus with its tip.
‘Yes… Quick… It’s so itchy… Push it in,’ wailed Kate. When he pushed it inside, Kate’s eyes rolled back in her head with ecstasy. ‘Ram it hard… Harder,’ she pleaded.
Seeing Jeremy’s growing agitation, Grant turned to Kate and said, ‘Suck my cock or I’ll stop using the dildo… Oh, yeah… Keep going… Yes, just like that… Stop… I don’t want to come yet. Think of this as a dogging experience. You can’t beat a spot of dirty dogging. I first met my friend Logan when I was out dogging with my girlfriend, Chloe, at Withershaw Heights a while back. It’s such a turn-on watching strangers fuck her. If you think I’m bad, Logan’s worse. He’s only into anal sex with dirty sluts like you.’
‘Kate’s not a dirty slut,’ said Jeremy.
‘I disagree. Suck her tits. That’ll shut you up. Look at the dirty slut with my dildo in her arse, my fingers in her pussy, and your tongue swirling her nipples. Tug her nipples with your teeth… Harder… She loves it. This is all being captured on CCTV. I’m lucky you’re parked under the main high-resolution security camera.’
Sod’s law, thought Jeremy as his mouth moved from breast to breast. I’m aching to come.
Grant said, ‘Soon, I’ll introduce this gorgeous slut to Logan. Come again for me, Kate.’
Kate whimpered and shuddered as she gushed like a geyser over Grant’s massive gloved hand. Wiping his fingers on Jeremy’s shirt, Grant said, ‘I love a squirter. I can see from your face you’ve never gushed like that before, Kate. Get used to it. It’ll happen a lot from now on due to Trouble even after the cream’s worn off.’
From the dark corridor leading to the car park, they heard laughter. In the distance, three shadowy figures were looking their way. Jeremy thought, Only the CCTV room, a few storage rooms and the lifts are along there. Who are those men? If they come this way, we’re sunk.
‘Hide me,’ shrieked Kate.
‘Relax, sugar tits. They’ve gone,’ said Grant, the only one of the trio who seemed unconcerned about the muffled laughter. ‘If it wasn’t for the cream on Kate’s clit I’d lick it, but I don’t fancy getting a tingling tongue. I’ll lick you out later, darling. We’ll soon know each other much better.’
‘My left nipple’s tingling like crazy. It’s much more sensitive than the right one,’ said Kate, alarmed by another new, intense sensation.
Examining the nipple, Grant said, ‘I must’ve accidentally touched it with my glove. Look, Cosgrove. It’s growing larger, harder, and more erect than the other one. It’s darker, too. Fascinating. The Prof’s a genius. Hang on, here’s a more powerful vibrator. Use it on Kate’s transformed tit while I smear Trouble on the other.’
‘Sorry about this, Kate,’ said Jeremy, watching his liaison officer grit her teeth as the vibrations tore through her transforming, ultra-sensitive nipple.
Grant chuckled. ‘You’re driving her crazy. Bet you’d love to suck her tits, but don’t. You’ll get a tingly mouth from the cream. Video the transformation, then shoot my fingers ramming both her holes with these vibrators. Don’t even think of smashing my phone. If you try, your videos will go viral and I’ll make damned sure your wife, kids, colleagues and friends see them all.’
Jeremy held Grant’s phone close to Kate’s slowly expanding nipple, listening to her squeals as it jutted out further the more he ran the vibrator over its surface. The bastard’s right. I’d love to suck this corker, thought Jeremy.
‘Vibe her other tit, Cosgrove. Pass me that other vibrator and point my phone at her chocolate starfish. In it slides… Up to the hilt. Miss Hoity Toity looks embarrassed. Is it weird watching your boss filming me use this vibrator in your arse.’
Incensed, Jeremy grabbed Grant’s bare forearm to try to drag the vibrator from between Kate’s buttocks. The security man glared at him, saying, ‘Oh, so you want to vibe it, do you, Cosgrove? No? Well, you’re going to. With all that cream in her poop chute, she’s desperate for it, aren’t you, Kate?
‘Yes,’ wailed Kate.
Grant chuckled. ‘Thought so. Smile as you ram it in her good and hard… That’s it… In and out… Faster… Look how much she loves it.’
Kate was panting hard and moaning, but her smile looked natural. Jeremy’s arm ached by the time Grant was satisfied he’d filmed enough material. Grant’s enviably large penis was pointing directly at Kate’s vagina like a loaded gun. As the vibrator buzzed, Jeremy thought, The bastard plans to rape and sodomise Kate in front of me, a senior police officer. How can I stop him without losing everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve? He spluttered and said, ‘This is blatant blackmail, you perverted monster. It’s a serious punishable offence, although the sexual assault is serious enough. You’ll go to jail for years for what you’re doing.’
With pride, Grant said, ‘Yes, I’m blackmailing you. So what? What are you going to do about it? I’ve always despised you, Cosgrove, ever since you bollocked me for spitting out chewing gum in the corridor.’
Kate was struggling to close her legs, convinced that hidden strangers were watching her humiliation. Grant said, ‘Lie still, bitch. Obey me or you’ll both lose your jobs, reputations, and who knows what else? You’ll never be able to look anyone in the eye again if I post these videos online. You’ll never know who’s seen them, will you, Kate? It could be the spotty youth in the supermarket looking at you oddly, or that bloke in the street rubbing his hard-on against your backside. Any Tom, Dick or Harry could’ve seen you smiling as your boss vibes your backside. You don’t want me to release the videos, do you, Kate?’
‘No, of course not,’ said Kate forlornly.
‘Exactly. So, carry on obeying me or I’ll sing like a canary and ruin your lives,’ said Grant, twisting and plunging both vibrators inside her.
Feeling impotent, Jeremy sighed despondently as Kate’s ordeal continued at a furious pace. Kate’s moans of pleasure each time she climaxed drove Jeremy’s arousal to new heights. Wish I could think of a way to stop him, but my brain feels paralysed. I’m fucking useless.
Grant bent down and freed Kate’s heel from the mat. ‘Step out of the car, Kate. You need to come again, but so do I. If you want to keep your jobs, relationships, and reputations, you’re going to give me an even better blow job than you gave your boss. Sorry for interrupting you before you enjoyed your happy ending, Mr Detective. You look as sick as a parrot that I’ve come along and spoiled all your fun.’
‘You won’t get away with this,’ muttered Jeremy.
‘Oh, I think I will. Oops, there she blows again,’ said Grant. ‘What a woman! Can’t wait until the next time you and I meet, Kate.’
‘Over my dead body,’ said Jeremy.
‘That can be arranged,’ said Grant. ‘I’ll forget you said that. We all know you’re powerless to stop me doing what I want. I live alone, Kate, so you will visit my house tomorrow evening after work. Be there at seven. I live off Rippenden Street. I’ll text you my address once we’ve swapped phone numbers. As your mouth’s full, nod if you agree.’
Kate nodded rather too eagerly for Jeremy’s liking. He groaned at the notion of her meeting Grant again. Jeremy wanted Kate to be his sexual partner, not Grant’s. Watching her in action with the security guard made him desire her more.
Jeremy’s eyes were on stalks when Kate gagged as Grant pounded her throat. Her eyes and mouth were watering and drool hung from her chin, yet Kate was still compelled to masturbate. The sensations showed no signs of abating.
Deeply envious of the attention Kate was giving to Grant, Jeremy thought, Hmm, she never gagged like that when she deep-throated me. She wasn’t half as keen with me as she’s acting with him. Damn the bastard for being bigger and more macho than me. She’s drooling worse than my gran’s bulldog.
Following Grant’s instructions, Jeremy tweaked and tugged Kate’s nipples as he watched Grant thrusting down her throat. I’m having an out of body experience, he thought. This can’t be happening to me. How can I stop him from raping her? Would it be rape, though? I’ve got a bad feeling she can’t wait to have his cock inside her. Her breasts feel amazing. Badly need to come but I’m not doing it in front of Trafford and the security cameras.
Despite receiving expert oral sex from Kate, Grant managed to say, ‘You two didn’t seriously believe this would be a one-off, did you?’
‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough to her already, Trafford?’ said Jeremy shortly before Grant exploded down Kate’s throat so hard he staggered backwards.
After a few moments of recovery, Grant grinned and said, ‘I’ve hardly begun on her yet. We’re still being captured on the CCTV cameras down here. Only I view the security tapes each day as we’re so understaffed. I locked the camera room’s door before joining you, so nobody can view the footage except me. I’ll enjoy watching it while making copies for my friends.’
‘Nobody must ever view this filth,’ said Jeremy.
Grant’s chuckle infuriated Jeremy. ‘It’s a bit late for that, Cosgrove. I’ve already had texts from my mates saying how hot your videos that I sent them are. Before I fuck Kate bandy-legged, I’m going to shoot some even more incriminating videos of you both.’
Jeremy thought, Even more incriminating videos? What the devil’s he going to dream up next? Will he video me fucking her? Oh, I do hope so. I want nothing more than to fuck Kate bandy-legged. The situation will get even stickier if I don’t come again soon. Kate’s having no problem coming… Here comes another tsunami.
He watched Kate throw her head back in ecstasy, moaning with pleasure as the grinning security guard worked on her with a double-headed rubber dildo from his holdall.
‘Your colleague can’t get enough of me, Cosgrove. God… Yes… That was a huge one,’ said Grant, rubbing dry his tanned six-pack.
Jeremy tapped Grant’s arm. ‘Please stop. We should’ve driven to a crime scene ages ago. Our colleagues will be wondering where we are. Stop raping her and let us go.’
‘Rape? It’s not rape, you thicko. Kate’s more than willing. I’ve recorded her begging me to fuck her. Don’t argue. Be more compliant, like Kate. You love it, don’t you, pet?’
Jeremy couldn’t believe it when she smiled and nodded, tugging her transformed nipples like a demented webcam girl to egg Grant on. I give up, thought the frustrated detective.
Grant jabbed a wet index finger at Jeremy and said, ‘Listen, you bloody know-it-all. I wouldn’t give a shit if we all get the sack. I don’t need my bloody job at this station and don’t care if I lose it. I only stay on to have fun in the CCTV room with various women, or spy on sluts like Kate when they think nobody’s looking. You wouldn’t believe the goings-on I’ve seen in this building. Mind you, with Kate now at my beck and call, my job will become more interesting.’
Tapping Grant’s shoulder, Kate said, ‘Stop talking and make me come again.’
Inserting the dildos back inside her, Grant said, ‘Sorry, sexy. Does that feel better? Good. Now, as I was saying, The Prof and I have bigger fish to fry than working at this poxy police station. We plan to leave soon to concentrate on making millions from Trouble Cream. Unlike you, there’s nobody in my life for you to try to blackmail me with. I only have one uncle and I don’t care what he thinks. I don’t give a shit about anyone, so carry on obeying me. You’re amazing, Kate. Are you looking forward to coming to my house tomorrow?’
Jeremy thought Kate hesitated too long before shaking her pretty head.
Grant grinned. ‘Hard luck, sugar tits. You’ll be at mine at seven, or else. Right, Cosgrove, put on these latex gloves. I want more leverage, more evidence. Sorry, but you’re not sticking your cock in her, just fingers and toys, but feel free to knock one out. Your smiling faces and Cosgrove’s distinctive wedding ring must be visible in every shot. Got it?’
To speed up matters so he and Kate could attend the murder scene, Jeremy knew he must comply. Seething with irritation and pent-up lust, he prepared to take more detailed directions from Grant.
‘Put on this glove. Prof’s working on a much stronger, longer-lasting cream. Think yourselves lucky I didn’t use that one on Kate. Climb on the bonnet, sexy. Knees wide apart. I want a full-body shot and a close-up of your boss pressing this vibrator on your clit… Great… Keep pressing it, Cosgrove… Smile for the camera… Slide a finger into her arse.’
‘No, I bloody refuse. I’m a senior police officer, not a porn star,’ said Jeremy.
Jeremy was surprised to hear Kate say, ‘Do it, sir. He has us over a barrel. The cream’s driving me crazy in there. You’ll be doing me a big favour.’
‘Oh, very well,’ said Jeremy in a huff, pulling on the glove.
He slid his index finger slowly into her rectum and heard her gasp with relief as it sawed back and forth.
‘Faster, sir,’ said Kate in between gasps and moans.
‘Wank your boss, Kate… Smile… Great precum shot. That’s a decent handjob… Swirl the tip with your tongue… Perfect. He won’t last long… There… Told you he wouldn’t. Rub it into her boobs, Cosgrove.’
Grant showed Jeremy the video as the detective recovered his composure. ‘Look at this cracking video, Cosgrove. Great smiles. Here’s where Kate gushes on you… So funny… Here’s you spunking over her boobs… Perfect video.’
‘Oh, God,’ muttered Jeremy and Kate in unison as they watched the phone’s screen.
Grant laughed in their faces. ‘Even God can’t help you now. Do you think Cosgrove’s wife and children or Superintendent Yarrow would be pleased with either of you if they saw these? What about your neighbours? What about everyone you know on social media? Oh, deary me, Mr Detective. Poor Kate. What have you done? Still feeling horny, are you, pet? Slide this contraption over her hood, Cosgrove. It might do the job.’
Grant delved inside his bag and handed Jeremy a pink, buzzing, egg-shaped device. ‘That’s it, slide it onto her clit for the close-up and watch the effects. Big smiles for the video… Tickle Kate’s chocolate starfish with the tip of your tongue.’
Jeremy glared at him. ‘Not in a million years, you sadist.’
Kate sighed. ‘Just do it, sir. You know it’s pointless to argue with him.’
‘Wise girl,’ said Grant. ‘Does his tongue feel good? You like that, don’t you? Smile for the camera as he rims you.’
Jeremy looked up from between Kate’s buttocks. ‘The cream’s making my tongue tingle. It’s swelling.’
‘Imagine how I feel,’ said Kate as she moaned and gushed again into Jeremy’s face.
Grant said, ‘Stop for a minute to look at these cracking videos. The guys will love them.’
Watching the pornographic footage, Jeremy’s nausea and anxiety grew. He said, ‘You keep mentioning the guys. Who are they?’
‘Here’s some of them,’ said Grant, pulling an iPad from his holdall. After fiddling with it, he showed them the screen. A hairy male hand was waving at them from in front of a bank of moving screens. Filling most of the screen, Kate saw her naked body lying sprawled over the car’s bonnet. She moved her arm. The arm on the screen moved in sync.
‘Who’s that man watching us from your CCTV room?’ said Jeremy, consumed with fear and embarrassment.
‘Who says it’s only one man?’ said Grant. ‘For all you know, there might be a dozen men wanking over Kate right now, maybe many more.’
When another two erect penises appeared on the iPad screen, there was a thud as the back of Kate’s head hit the windscreen. She lay in a dead faint on the car bonnet with her breasts pointing at the car park’s ceiling.
Trouble In Cornwall
Chapter 1. Past and Present
A dark cloud hovered over the Sheffield crematorium, only partly due to the biting November weather. Five-year-old Wayne watched his father’s coffin disappear behind a mysterious curtain to be cremated. The child only had a vague idea of what was going on, yet the tension and solemnity in the air made him cry. Holding back his tears, Wayne’s ten-year-old brother, Conor, squeezed the blubbering child’s hand.
Liam O’Sullivan’s funeral was always going to be an awkward affair. Nobody in the congregation had the appetite to stand up and speak on his behalf. The previous month, the Irishman had hung himself inside his cell while awaiting sentencing for the murder of a friendless Jamaican girl.
Jessie O’Sullivan had been in two minds whether to attend her husband’s funeral. Her relationship with Liam had been in tatters for years and she’d begun divorce proceedings to escape his controlling, abusive, cheating ways. On the bitterly cold day of the funeral, Jessie resembled a pale, blonde ghost as she stood, silent and dry-eyed watching the bully’s coffin travel to its final destination. Good riddance to bad rubbish, she thought with good reason.
On the hard pew next to Jessie sat Russell Bell, her new love. The tall, handsome Jamaican illustrator lived with the widow and her sons. To give her much-needed comfort and support, Russell clasped her delicate hand in his as they listened to the celebrant’s impersonal eulogy drone on. Her hand looked even paler set against Russell’s blue-black skin.
The portrait of Liam which the celebrant painted sounded laughably inaccurate. Jessie struggled not to stand up and shout, ‘Bullshit!’ in the middle of the eulogy. Biting her tongue, she calmed her irritation by thinking, I guess it’s his job to gloss over Liam’s true character.
Russell had integrated perfectly into their lives. When she’d met him beside the hotel’s pool during a luxury Jamaican holiday with her children, he’d acted in a more paternal, caring way to her children than Liam had ever done.
Throughout the funeral, Jessie’s new man tried to comfort both her boys equally as they sat wide-eyed with fear and anxiety during the grim proceedings. Since their first meeting in Jamaica, Russell had been drawn more to Conor than Wayne because of the Jamaican blood flowing through their veins. It was a happy coincidence that Russell looked like he could have been Conor’s father, despite having nothing to do with the boy’s conception.
Conor’s biological father was Dwight Reid, a Jamaican wastrel who’d vanished after his drunken dalliance with Jessie during her marriage to Liam. Their brief liaison had taken place up a dark Sheffield alley while she’d been on a rare boozy girls’ night out.
In his defence, Dwight was clueless Jessie had given birth to his child because she’d kept silent. She’d hoped Liam had fathered the baby growing in her, but luck had worked against her. Misogynistic Liam had turned against Jessie completely when, to everyone’s surprise, his wife had given birth to a baby the colour of burnt toffee. As soon as Conor was born, Liam had made Jessie’s and Conor’s life a living hell.
Five years later, Wayne was born into the unhappy, impoverished household. Liam had treated him better than his older brother, but that’s not saying much. When not ignoring Conor’s existence, Liam had frequently called him a ‘little black bastard’ or worse. Although Liam had never emotionally warmed to Wayne, at least he’d acknowledged him as his son, not a cuckoo in the nest like Conor.
A few years after Wayne’s birth, the struggling O’Sullivan’s luck had changed to the tune of over five million pounds, courtesy of the National Lottery. Six numbers had changed their lives forever, although Liam had selfishly acted as the main beneficiary of the win. If he hadn’t died, Liam would have frittered away the entire fortune.
Liam had bought a sprawling luxury mansion in Sheffield for over two million pounds without consulting his downtrodden wife. When Liam was arrested for Tiyanna’s murder, Jessie and her young boys had fled the property in Sheffield to start a new life in Cornwall. Finding courage she’d never felt before, Jessie had syphoned off half a million pounds during Liam’s incarceration. With the money, she’d bought a more modest family home in Cornwall where she’d planned to live frugally, expecting Liam to claim the rest of the lottery fortune. She’d thought losing her hold on four and a half million pounds would be worth it to be able to escape from life with such a controlling, abusive spouse. After Liam’s suicide, Jessie inherited the entire fortune and her humdrum life changed beyond recognition.
The lottery win soon started causing tension in Jessie and Russell’s harmonious relationship. Despite having known each other for only a few months, they were living together in Jessie’s new Cornish property. Jessie was giddy with love for Russell and hated to be separated from him. She’d spontaneously convinced him to move from his small, rented flat in London into her new Liam-free home.
The couple could have managed perfectly well living on the original half a million pounds, but a five-million-pound fortune was serious money. Although she never verbalised her fears, Jessie suspected Russell might be more interested in her fortune than in loving her, despite there being no evidence for her suspicion. Russell never put a foot wrong, but Liam had whittled down Jessie’s self-esteem to almost nothing over the years, so she struggled to believe anyone could love her solely for who she was.
The more Russell told Jessie he loved her, the more her annoying inner voice chipped in with, You’re only saying that to get your hands on my money. Even though she never said those words out loud, Russell read them in her eyes. Despite her concerns, she couldn’t bear to lose him. Let him stay in your home, whispered her inner voice, but never take your eyes off him. You owe it to your boys to be wary.
Chapter 2. Con Artist
Russell’s cynical plan to infiltrate Jessie’s life to con her out of her winnings had been formulated during their first meeting in Jamaica. His cousin, Shanice, was the receptionist at the five-star hotel where Jessie and Russell had met. Russell could never have afforded to stay at the luxury hotel normally, but Shanice had managed to wangle a generous discount for him. Her regular clandestine sex with the hotel’s married manager had helped procure the generous discount.
When Russell met Shanice one evening after her shift, she’d innocently told him about her day. It had involved a meeting with Jessie when Shanice had passed on a message to call DCI Cosgrove at Sheffield police headquarters back in England. He’d needed to speak to Jessie about Liam’s arrest as the chief suspect for the murders of his mother, her lover, Lorna Markham and Lorna’s daughter, Amy. During their conversation, she’d also mentioned her lottery win.
Russell’s ears pricked up and the cogs whirred in his brain. A lottery win, eh? I wonder how much she’s won, Russell thought as he sipped his mojito beside the pool and watched Jessie rubbing sun lotion onto her pale, English-rose skin. He’d already been drawn to Jessie’s lithe body and long, white-blonde hair after spotting her and her boys at the breakfast buffet. His attraction to her subtle good looks made him sound convincing when he began courting her.
Russell felt Jessie might be an easy path to a cushy life, his solution to major financial problems. Over the past four years, Russell’s finances plummeted, He was losing money hand over fist. Russell might have held onto his delightful house in Swiss Cottage if he’d avoided lavishing money on high-maintenance women, gambling, and recreational drugs. Two years before meeting Jessie, his financial problems had forced him to move into a depressing rental property in Brixton.
The morning after Shanice unintentionally set Russell’s plans for his financial salvation into action, he made sure he was basking on a sun lounger next to Jessie and her children. As luck would have it, he didn’t have to introduce himself to her in a creepy, suspicious way. Conor had innocently helped launch Russell’s charm offensive on Jessie by accidentally kicking his beachball into Russell’s lap. Russell had shrieked when the icy mojito tipped over his well-oiled dark skin. Jessie had been mortified her unruly child had accidentally drenched the handsome stranger’s well-defined, ebony torso.
Russell let the svelte blonde mop up the Mojito as best she could with her beach towel. In her awkwardness, she brushed his groin with her hand and towel. He grinned as she wiped him dry, hoping she’d seen the bulge in his damp trunks. He thought, Her blushes aren’t just signs of her embarrassment because her son made me spill my drink. She fancies me and can see from my hard-on that the feeling’s mutual but she doesn’t know the bulge is from watching that hot brunette in the micro bikini oiling herself up over there.
When her towel tellingly gravitated back to his impressive groin, he leaned forward on his sun lounger and whispered in her ear so her sons couldn’t hear, ‘It’s not every day that area gets so much attention from a woman as attractive as you.’
Jessie blushed and snatched her hand away as though scalded. Russell thought, Hope I don’t bump into any of the sexy women who’ve paid attention to my cock during this holiday. They could seriously mess up my plans for shy, wealthy Jessie.
‘Please, allow me to buy you another mojito,’ said Jessie, picking up her beach bag in readiness to dash off to the pool bar to buy him a replacement drink.
‘Accidents happen. You don’t have to bother, but, if it’ll stop you feeling guilty, then be my guest,’ said Russell.
‘I insist,’ said Jessie.
Russell laughed and shrugged. ‘Only if you and the boys come to lunch. You’d be doing me a favour. I’m fed up with eating alone.’
Jessie jumped at the chance of having some attractive male company. Russell gloated over how well his plan was working. To fill the time before lunch, the couple chatted easily on their respective sun loungers as they watched her children play. When he offered to rub more sun lotion onto her back, he was delighted when Jessie agreed. After gently smoothing the lotion into her back, he rubbed plenty on the back of her legs, relieved she didn’t object when he gently parted them to rub the milky lotion on her soft skin. He saw her buttocks tense with delicious anticipation as his powerful fingers worked their way up her white inner thighs.
Feeling Jessie tremble, Russell smiled as he remembered applying dollops of lotion onto Lucy Flannery’s inner thighs as she’d laid on her sun lounger. That afternoon, he’d chosen to take the beautiful, single holidaymaker from Ireland to a secluded, deserted part of the coastline. With nobody around, Lucy hadn’t objected when Russell pulled off her bikini top. She was used to being naked in her job as a webcam girl.
‘Spread those legs and show me your pussy, girl,’ he said.
Without a second thought, Lucy opened her thighs wide and tugged the crotch of her bikini bottoms to one side. Grinning wickedly, he bent low and parted her labia with his dark fingers. She tweaked her pink, puffy nipples as he pulled back her pierced clitoral hood and licked her clitoris before brazenly inserting two fingers deep into her vagina and a thumb into her rectum.
They hadn’t been as alone as Lucy believed. A squat, obese middle-aged American was standing on a nearby cliff watching the couple through binoculars. Zooming in, he masturbated as he watched Lucy’s jiggling creamy breasts. He couldn’t take his eyes off her jewelled clitoral piercing glinting in the sun. He came when the buxom redhead arched her back and squirted on Russell’s thrusting fingers.
Glancing up, Lucy’s mouth dropped open at the sight of the voyeur peering at her through his binoculars. Far from looking worried or embarrassed, Russell shocked her by shouting for the man to join them, ignoring Lucy’s squeals of protest. As the stranger eagerly scrambled down the cliff towards them, Russell double-dared her to fuck the man, confident she adored Russell too much to refuse. He whispered, ‘No. Don’t cover your gorgeous boobs. Be proud of them… That’s it… Now, take off your bikini bottoms and pop your clit out for him. Show me how filthy you can be… I know he’s an ugly bastard, but watching you fuck a slob like him will be such a turn-on for me. Beauty and the Beast.’
‘But—’ she spluttered, wriggling out of her bikini bottoms.
‘No buts except the butt you’re sitting on,’ he said. ‘Spread your thighs and pop your clit out from it’s hiding place, or shall I do it for you?’
‘No… I’m doing it. Is that okay?’ she said, pulling back the slippery flesh hiding her clitoris and feeling the approaching man’s eyes hone in on it.
‘Perfect. Now he can see what a Juicy Lucy you are, push your boobs out at him… Great. He’s almost here.’
‘I know. I can hear him wheezing,’ she murmured, trying not to look as terrified as she felt.
As soon as the sweaty, balding, overweight American reached her sunlounger and reached a hand towards her vulva, Lucy panicked and slammed her legs shut, covering her breasts with her hands.
‘Don’t be a spoilsport,’ said the man, trying to pull her knees apart.
When she heard Russell sigh with irritation, Lucy quit struggling and let the stranger pull her knees wide. Tense and embarrassed, she revealed her breasts and gripped the sunbed.
‘Very nice,’ said the American, rubbing her slippery nub with fat fingers that reminded her of raw pork sausages. ‘What’s your name, Ma’am?’
‘Lucy,’ she said.
‘You can call her Juicy Lucy,’ said Russell, busy videoing the encounter on his smartphone.
‘I’m John,’ said the stranger, stretching the entrance to her vagina so Russell could shoot a close-up.
Lucy feigned desire as the flabby stranger slid two fingers into her vagina and fingerbanged her so hard she gushed up his forearm. Licking his fingers, he pushed a finger into her rectum as he rubbed her clitoris.
Looking up at Russell with her big green eyes, Lucy said, ‘Filthy enough for you?’
He bent low and whispered, ‘Well, you could be filthier, you know. Don’t hold back, sexy. Stand up and bend over.’ Handing John the vibrator he’d pulled from her beach bag, he said, ‘Fancy using this in her butt, John?’
‘I sure do,’ he said, grinning. Turning it to high power, he slid it deep into her rectum.
Lucy’s back passage ached after the humiliating ordeal. To divert John’s attention away from her, she knelt and pulled off his shorts. As she deep throated John, Lucy prayed Russell found her actions filthy enough. After swallowing his bitter semen, she said, ‘Lie on this towel on the sand so I can rub my sopping wet pussy all over your mouth.’
‘Sure thing, Ma’am. Love your Irish accent,’ said John, breaking off from sucking her nipples to watch Russell videoing Lucy as she masturbated.
‘Do you like my clit, John?’ she said.
She teased her slippery nub with the powerful vibrator, growing increasingly concerned Russell was videoing every lewd act.
‘Hell, yeah! Let me vibe it,’ said John, snatching the vibrator and pushing it hard against her clitoris.
Lucy thought, Why isn’t Russell mauling me like this ugly pig’s doing, and why’s he using the slob’s phone to film me? I’d better go along with it, though. Don’t want to lose my sexy Russell. As the gulls soared overhead and the waves crashed onto the shore, Lucy feared the overweight stranger might have a stroke when she gushed down his throat. His porcine grunts disgusted her as she bounced athletically on his stubby penis.
Lucy would have run a mile if she’d been aware of Russell’s secret arrangement with John Middleton. Her holiday lover had deliberately brought her to the private beach owned by multimillionaire John Middleton, the same beach he’d taken many stunning females each year while he’d been on holiday in Jamaica. The millionaire was so unattractive, beautiful women avoided him. John paid Russell handsomely to lure beauties into John’s web of depravity. The payments allowed the lothario to buy the drugs he craved.
Russell’s explicit videos, taken each time a woman first had sex with John, had been used to blackmail her into becoming John’s regular plaything. Russell ensured Lucy’s videos were extremely pornographic. He’d selected Lucy to be his next victim because John paid him more for sex with beautiful redheads. Ones with clitoral piercings and hairless labia were John’s ultimate weaknesses. Russell knew John would want to have sex regularly with Lucy during her three week holiday, so ensured the videos were so disgusting, she’d do everything John commanded to prevent the footage from becoming public.
After formulating his plan to scam Jessie, Russell kept her well away from John’s private beach knowing she’d be horrified to learn he’d pimped out so many beautiful women to the wealthy sex fiend.
Stroking Jessie’s milky inner thighs as he inwardly chuckled at the memory of Lucy’s antics, Russell thought, John’s probably banging Lucy right now in his mansion, the lucky bastard. Much as I’d love to invade Jessie’s bikini bottoms, I must resist the temptation, especially as her kids are playing nearby. Judging by her body language and rapid breathing, I’m sure Jessie wants me to fuck her. She’s blushing and can’t look me in the eye. Big giveaway.
Hot and flustered, Jessie wriggled onto her back. The sparks of attraction crackling between them were intense and undeniable. The buffet lunch couldn’t have gone any better, although young Wayne whinged, feeling neglected by his mother who seemed far more interested in the dark-skinned stranger than in her sons.
After sharing a bottle of wine with the attentive Jamaican, Jessie’s tongue loosened. He’d secretly taken care to pour more wine into Jessie’s glass than in his own. She glowed, her face wreathed in smiles, a rare sight for her sons to see. Her miserable, tense expression seen during their unhappy existence with Liam in Sheffield had vanished.
After lunch, Russell told Jessie he’d be by the pool the following day, confident she’d want to join him. During lunch, he decided not to spend the rest of the day with them. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, he thought. Don’t want to appear too keen so early in the game.
After spending the afternoon and night scheming, Russell took every opportunity to show up wherever Jessie and the boys were. He took great care to subtly ingratiate himself with Conor and Wayne, aware his heartless plan would be doomed if they were wary of him. Their mother was oblivious of Russell’s ultimate intentions. If she had any concerns about his character, she’d brushed them under the carpet; her desire for him was too powerful. After the traumatic years she’d spent being controlled and bullied by Liam, Russell was a breath of fresh air.
The charismatic Jamaican had the opportunity to make his move on Jessie sooner than he’d expected. When he walked over to the trio by the pool the morning after their first meeting, she looked up at him from her sun lounger and whispered, ‘Don’t get settled, Russell. I’m taking the boys to play at Kids’ Club for a few hours before lunch. I’d planned to hang around and watch them, but they’ll be fine to leave with the supervisors. We can enjoy some time alone.’
‘Sounds perfect,’ he said, shooting her a winning grin.
He helped her off the sun lounger and watched her slide a sarong around her slim hips, gather up the scattered belongings and stuff them into her over-sized beach bag.
Taking the bag from her, he said, ‘Here, let me take that. It looks heavy.’
Jessie didn’t resist, neither did she resist his suggestion to drop the bag off at her hotel room so they didn’t have to lug it around with them. They both knew it was a ruse to gain him access to her bedroom and body, but she eagerly agreed to go up in the lift with him. An elderly woman was in the lift when Russell and Jessie stepped in, so Russell had to abort his plan to seduce Jessie in there. Jessie’s heart was beating so loud, she feared the woman might hear and suspect what they were about to do.
When Jessie clicked the hotel door behind them, Russell wasted no time. Pulling her close, he kissed her deeply, confident his embrace was what she yearned for. ‘We don’t have long before we must collect the boys,’ he said. Let’s make the most of it. Only if you want to, of course.’
Russell was being less forward than he’d been with any other woman. Jessie was a valuable cargo who needed to be treated with more respect than his usual conquests. Even so, they were soon rolling around naked on the bed.
‘That was the best sex I’ve ever had,’ lied Russell. He watched her grin with pride and almost felt moved. His inner voice said, Looks like the daft mare believes me. Lucy could run rings around her. Now, that’s what I call sex! But, Lucy isn’t a multimillionaire like Jessie.
‘Ditto,’ said Jessie, gasping for breath after Russell’s impressive performance. She picked up her mobile phone to check the time. ‘Oh, no! We’d better get dressed. I must pick the boys up in fifteen minutes and I could do with a shower.’
‘Shame. I was ready for round three,’ said Russell.
Jessie looked at his fully loaded manhood. ‘So I see.’
‘Let me give you the best five minutes of your life. You won’t regret it,’ he joked, flipping her over and taking her doggie-style before she could object, not that she would have.
True to his word, he finished five minutes later. Ecstatic she hadn’t stopped him, Jessie said, ‘I’m dripping with sweat but there’s no time to shower.’
‘We can take a dip in the pool after collecting the boys,’ said Russell.
Jessie pulled on her bikini and threw a scanty cover-up over her tousled head. Bending over the sink, she splashed cold water on her face to freshen up.
Russell looked immaculate compared to Jessie. He was used to dressing at speed having made several rapid retreats from various married women’s bedrooms over the years. Picking up Jessie’s hairbrush, he said, ‘That’s spectacular bedhead hair you’ve got there. Let me brush it for you.’
‘Thanks. You’re lucky your hair’s in dreadlocks. It’s stayed in place, unlike mine,’ she said, tingling as she remembered how the beads at the ends of his long black hair had tickled her bare breasts.
As they raced to collect the boys, Russell said, ‘Hope there’s a Kids’ Club every day.’
‘There is, actually,’ said Jessie, giggling. ‘Let’s hope my boys enjoyed today’s session and fancy returning. Ah, there they are, sitting on that wall.’
She scooped Wayne up in her arms when he’d raced towards them with a smile as big as his mother’s. Wanting to appear cooler than Wayne, Conor strolled casually towards them. Being five years older than his brother, Conor sensed a change in Jessie and Russell. The soppy way she was looking at Russell showed his mother was besotted with the black stranger.
‘Who wants ice cream?’ said Russell, knowing the way into a child’s heart as well as he knew how to burrow into Jessie’s.
‘Me! Me! Me!’ yelled Wayne as Conor politely nodded.
After her steamy session in the bedroom, Jessie would have preferred a swim rather than ice cream but she didn’t want to be a killjoy. Admiring the colourful exotic plants, they strolled through the sun-drenched grounds to buy four ice creams. Russell made sure he paid, despite Jessie’s wealth.
People who saw them thought they were a family, albeit a blended one. Conor resembled Russell so closely, he could have been his son. I’ll do my damnedest to ensure Conor and Wayne go to Kids’ Club every day of this holiday, thought Russell. Jessie wants me. Her soppy expression tells me so. Confident his magic had worked on the trio of O’Sullivans, Russell inwardly rubbed his hands together as he pictured countless pound coins pouring from the sky to form glittering mountains surrounding him.
The same day Jessie and Russell first had sex, Lucy Flannery found herself in a heap of trouble inside John’s mansion. The Irish lass had been tied, naked and spreadeagled, to a four-poster bed by John and his butler, Dawlish. She thought it would only be John and Dawlish abusing and humiliating her, but John was awaiting the arrival of five of his equally repulsive photography club friends, complete with their cameras and holdalls containing tools of sexual torture. I hope Maximillian remembers to bring his anal speculum. Mine’s broken, thought John as he vigorously punished Lucy’s hungry vagina with an extra-large, ribbed glass dildo.
Wearing only blue latex gloves, John was looking forward to enlarging Lucy’s clitoral hood inside the transparent suction tube he’d bought that week. The Trouble Cream he’d bought online had already enlarged her nipples and clitoral hood. Her nipples were now brown, not the rosy pink they used to be. The two men could see the powerful tingling and urge to climax were driving Lucy crazy. The blurb on the jar says suctioning a woman’s nipples and clitorises after applying the cream gives astounding growth and erectness. My pals will shoot their loads watching me do that to her. It’ll make fantastic video footage, he thought as he filmed Lucy gush into Dawlish’s toothless mouth.
Dawlish, John’s elderly butler, stood choking beside him. The bald, scrawny, naked man had already had sex twice with Lucy that day. ‘It went down the wrong way,’ he said. ‘Shall I untie Juicy Lucy and bathe her before they arrive, sir?’
Pressing a vibrator hard onto Lucy’s throbbing clitoris, John nodded. ‘Good idea, Dawlish. They’ll be expecting to eat her out and suck her ti—’
‘Who are ‘they’ for fuck’s sake?’ said Lucy, bucking on the vibrator, desperate to come again.
‘Language, Lucy!’ said John, tweaking her hard nipples. ‘Don’t worry your pretty head about that. Dawlish, the cream needs to be removed now it’s absorbed or the guys’ tongues will be affected. Use a vaginal and anal douche to flush all the cream out of her. Come and tell me before you douche her so I can video it. Paul likes eating ass, so make sure it’s cream-free. Jerry’s bringing a fresh supply of condoms.
‘Good. We’re running low,’ said Dawlish as he led trembling Lucy towards the luxury bathroom.
Once bathtime was over, Dawlish and John tied the naked girl to the bed with her ankles and wrists tied to the headboard behind her ears. She could hardly breathe in that position. When the doorbell rang in the grand hall, Dawlish put down the dildo he’d been using in her rectum and trudged, exhausted, to the front door. He let in John’s friends, who were all dressed in bathrobes which they threw onto an ornate chaise longue under the window opposite the bed.
‘What a delicious sight for sore eyes. That’s a fabulous, inviting arse.’ said Paul, a blonde, geekish sixty-six-year-old wearing only horn-rimmed glasses.
After stripping naked, Paul sat next to Lucy, masturbating as he watched Arrun, an obese Indian chemist with buck teeth, bring Lucy to a squirting orgasm with his hairy fingers. As Chan Li, a middle-aged local restaurant manager, and Lawrence, John’s equally obese cousin, sucked Lucy’s nipples, Paul stroked and spanked her buttocks until they were red before sinking his tongue deep into the shrieking girl’s rectum. Dawlish and John filmed the naked men grabbing, fondling, rubbing, sucking and probing any part of Lucy’s pale flesh they could reach.
Lucy had lost all sense of time and reality when she heard John announce, ‘Now we’ve each fucked Lucy a couple of times, gather around to watch the highpoint of this party.’
‘Let me guess. I can see a funny machine over there. Has it got something to do with it? Am I right?’ said Lawrence.
‘Correct. You’ll want to use your close-up lenses for this. If you think her clit and nipples are large already because of this miraculous Trouble Cream, you won’t believe their size once they’ve been sucked into this tube,’ said John, placing the end of the tube over Lucy’s right nipple.
Lucy shrieked as she and the men watched her nipple travel along the tube, pulling it and stretching it until it filled the clear plastic.
It took over an hour to suction everything because each man wanted to try making them even larger. Her clitoral hood came in for the most punishment and soon hung three inches below her labia, three times as wide as it had been. Her nipples were permanently erect and resembled something from a joke shop. The sensitivity of each suctioned part was unbearable, especially as Lucy was already constantly desperate to orgasm.
After the men had enjoyed the results of the suctioning, John sent the still acutely aroused Lucy home in a cab with instructions to return the following evening. As John and his friends sat around drinking in his lounge overlooking the bay, they all agreed that the suction tube part was indeed the highlight of the night. ‘Can’t believe her nipples and clit will stay like that,’ said Paul, admiring the footage they’d recorded projected onto John’s vast television screen.
‘Look at how her clit wobbled when I tapped it,’ said Chan Li as they watched a video of Lucy squatting over his face.
John said, ‘You can check it all for shrinkage tomorrow. Thanks for shaving her, Dawlish. She was a bit spiky down there. The Trouble Cream blurb claims the effects of the suction tube last for days. Let’s hope it’s not just hype.’
After picking Lucy up from John’s mansion, Fitzroy, her young Jamaican taxi driver, couldn’t take his eyes off the action in his rearview mirror. Devoid of underwear, Lucy was desperately masturbating with her fingers on the back seat of his cab with her knees wide apart and her skirt tucked into her waistband. When he’d seen the size of her clitoral hood in the mirror, Fitzroy almost crashed the cab. He pulled over and parked his taxi. Turning around to stare, he gasped when ejaculate gushed onto the cab’s floor.
‘Please, help me come again. It’s easier if someone else does it,’ she gasped, thrusting her wet vulva at him.
Fitzroy couldn’t resist reaching over the back of his seat to rub her giant clitoris and finger her. ‘It’ll be my pleasure, lady,’ he said, licking his fingers.
Exiting the driver’s seat at speed, he joined her on the back seat of his cab and unzipped his jeans. After she’d bounced on his penis and he’d filled his condom, he drove them to her hotel to share a night of passion. When he returned to work the next morning, he beamed as he showed his videos of Lucy to his fellow taxi drivers.
‘I’d kill to be booked to pick that hottie up, Fitzroy. I reckon we all fancy a go on that pussy,’ said Winston before disappearing into the bathroom to masturbate as he viewed all the videos Fitzroy had forwarded to his fellow taxi drivers and boss.
Winston was in luck. Two nights later, a naked Lucy rubbed her wet vulva on his mouth on the back seat of his cab as he fingered her rectum. They were parked on an out of the way headland overlooking a deserted bay. As she bounced on his penis in the dark, another cab carrying two taxi drivers and Mr Bailey, the old taxi firm owner, slowed down and parked alongside. When they heard the address of the pick-up, Mr Bailey and two of his drivers had headed off to intercept Lucy’s cab. The strong beams of their torches shone into Winston’s cab, illuminating Lucy and eliciting a long wolf whistle from Mr Bailey.
‘When you’ve finished with Winston, Lucy, come and lie on the bonnet of my cab so I can suck that yummy-looking clitty of yours,’ shouted Mr Bailey, easing his bulk out of the taxi.
Flinging open the back door of Winston’s taxi, their boss leaned in and groped Lucy’s left breast as she bounced on Winston, then pulled her huge nipple into his mouth. The two other men vacated their taxi and opened the other back door to molest Lucy, videoing her by the light of their as they torches.
‘Hurry up and shoot your load, Winston. We all want to fuck her,’ shouted one of Mr Bailey’s over-eager employees as he rattled handfuls of condom packets in her flushed face.
With Trouble Cream still raging through her veins, Lucy was only too eager to agree to all their outrageous, imaginative demands. Anal sex was very much on the menu after Dawlish had yet again slid a gloved cream-smeared finger into her rectum as he did each night in John’s mansion. The men chuckled and made lewd comments every time Lucy begged them to sodomise her. It was the first of many long, hot and sweaty Jamaican nights for Lucy Flannery and the entire taxi company. She’d given up wondering where Russell had disappeared to. There was far more for her to worry about.
Chapter 3. Settling In
Five days after first meeting Jessie and her children by the pool, Russell felt smug as he sprawled naked on top of Jessie’s spent body in her hotel bedroom. I’ve played it just right with her; not too keen, not too cool. She’s well and truly tangled up in my web. After what she’s told me about Conor’s biological father, she clearly has a thing for Jamaican guys. Stroke of luck for me. I’m based in London, so we can continue this relationship beyond a mere holiday fling. The doting fool’s fallen so hard for me. Look at her gazing up at me. She’s completely besotted.
Russell struggled to hide his contempt for her. During the rest of their self-indulgent holiday, his close attention to fulfilling all Jessie’s whims, especially her sexual desires, convinced her she was an attractive, worthwhile woman once more. She was no longer the inadequate drudge Liam had always made her out to be.
Russell also took pains to make Jessie’s boys believe the sun shone out of his backside by buying them treats and playing boisterous games with them at every opportunity. He never spoke harshly to them despite believing Jessie let them get away with murder. If he’d spoken his mind and commented on the tantrums and squabbles which cropped up between the siblings, Jessie might have taken umbrage and ended it with him. That would never do.
Whenever Shanice was on duty behind the reception desk and saw Russell and the O’Sullivan family walk by, it was clear her cousin was enjoying his holiday. Russell’s seemingly close relationship with Jessie and her children puzzled the receptionist. Jessie was attractive, but not the overtly sexual, borderline trashy women Russell usually went for. Shanice thought, Can’t recall him being involved with a mother before. I’ve even heard him vow to never take on another man’s child. Knowing him, he’s up to something fishy.
Shanice’s curiosity eventually got the better of her. Shortly before Russell was due to fly home to London, she sent him a text asking him to meet her for a drink and catch-up in Roots Reggae Bar close to the hotel. He wasn’t thrilled to receive the text as it would cut into his bonding time with Jessie and the boys. Reluctantly, he agreed to meet up with Shanice when Jessie would be putting the children to bed.
When Russell breezed into the bar, Shanice was already sitting at a table sipping a Caribbean rum punch. The beads at the end of her cousin’s dreadlocks clanged as he sat opposite her. He removed his trendy sunglasses to acclimatise his eyes to the dimly lit bar.
‘Thanks for deigning to join me, cuz,’ said Shanice. ‘Good of you to spare me the time, considering how busy you are with your new lady friend and her kiddies. I reckoned if I didn’t ask you flat out to meet up with me, you’d fly home without us getting a chance to chat.’
‘Hey, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Shanice,’ said Russell. ‘If you’re going to be a sarcastic mare, I’ll fuck off back to the hotel.’
Shanice laughed. ‘Chill. I’ve just been missing our usual chats during your visits. Who knows when you’ll return to Jamaica, especially now you’re so loved up?’
Mustn’t piss Shanice off, thought Russell. It’ll go against me when I fancy another cheap Jamaican holiday. I’ve also missed chatting with Shanice, but I must devote all my time to wooing Jessie if my plan’s going to work. He said, ‘Thanks for doing as I asked and not chatting to me and Jessie whenever we’ve walked past your reception desk. I appreciate it.’
‘No problem,’ said Shanice. ‘I still don’t understand why it’s such a big deal for me to keep quiet about getting you a discounted stay at the hotel, unless you’re trying to impress Mrs O’Sullivan, of course.’
Infuriated by her smug expression, Russell thought, Damn Shanice for hitting the nail on the head. After sipping his drink, he said, ‘Spot on, Shanice. Don’t want to be embarrassed by Jessie knowing about my discount. I could hardly afford the flights. I’ve fallen for Jessie and her children are great. I don’t want her to find out about my money problems in case she runs a mile.’
‘So, what was it that first attracted you to multimillionaire Jessie O’Sullivan?’ said Shanice with a wry grin.
Russell scowled. ‘Ha bloody ha. I was attracted to Jessie before you mentioned her lottery win. Is the poor woman destined to never have a man in her life because she’s rich?’
Shanice’s laugh was laced with mockery. ‘Poor woman? Lousy choice of adjectives, Russell. Anyway, she has a husband. He might’ve just been arrested for murder, but she’s still married to him.’
Eager to leave, Russell stood up. ‘For your information, Jessie had already made up her mind to divorce him before meeting me. She’s happy with me, so stop pissing on my bonfire. I’m in no mood for any more chat with your cynical self. Going back to the hotel to see Jessie now the kids are in bed.’
Shanice wasn’t in any mood to argue. ‘Don’t let me stop you. You’ll be glad to know I’m off work for the next few days, so this is goodbye until you fly back. You won’t have to worry about me dropping you in the shit with Mrs Moneybags. Can’t promise I’ll be in the mood to wangle a cheap holiday for you next time, though.’
‘Bye, then,’ snapped Russell.
He stomped out of the bar with his dreadlock beads jangling to Bob Marley’s Jammin as it wafted through the hot evening air. Russell dived into another bar to snort a line of coke in the toilet to prepare himself for performing at his sexual peak with Jessie. As the bitter-tasting powder hit the back of his throat, he thought, I can’t afford to give a lacklustre performance in bed tonight, not with so much depending on me convincing Jess I’m the man for her.
He made his way along the palm-tree-lined, dusty road back to the hotel. Luckily, Shanice won’t be back working at the hotel before the end of my holiday. I’m sure she’s guessed my plan as she knows me too well. She’s daft if she thinks I haven’t noticed her knowing little smirks when she’s seen me in the reception area with Jessie and her brood. Shanice might not have said anything to give my game away but her body language spoke volumes. Miss Smartarse could’ve dropped me right in it. She’ll regret it when I’m living in luxury courtesy of Jessie O’Sullivan.
While Russell had been meeting his sassy cousin, Jessie had made an extra special effort to look less like the mother of two children and more like a seductive vamp. She was glad she’d packed her sexiest lingerie but was annoyed not to have brought a racy dress, too. Holding up one disappointing dress after another, she thought, How was I to know I’d meet someone like Russell Bell on this holiday? She eventually chose to wear her black satin bathrobe over her most seductive black lacy lingerie.
That afternoon, she’d arranged with Russell for him to stay a few hours in her bed that night. Jessie had said, ‘It’ll be risky. We must keep the door to the boys’ room firmly locked while you’re with me tonight. Wayne, in particular, might wake up and come into my bedroom.’
He’d shrugged and said, ‘If that happens, I’ll leg it before you unlock their door. Luckily, my room’s on the same floor as yours. I’ll bring my bathrobe in case I need a quick escape.’
‘You’ve really thought this out,’ she’d said.
He’d smiled and nodded, thinking, Oh, yes. I’ve done tons of thinking where you’re concerned, Mrs Moneybags.
That night, Jessie’s stomach lurched with anticipation when she heard a tentative knock on her door. She rushed barefoot to let Russell in before he knocked again and woke the boys. Jessie’s pale-blue eyes looked up adoringly into his almost black ones as she melted into his embrace. They were soon naked and moving in unison on her bed. After less than twenty minutes of clandestine coupling, the door handle to the adjoining room rattled, accompanied by the pitiful whimpering of Jessie’s youngest child.
‘Quick!’ whispered Jessie. ‘It’s Wayne. Probably had another nightmare. Execute your escape plan!’
She stifled a giggle at the sight of Russell’s powerful buttocks as he leapt from the bed. During their all too brief steamy session, she’d giggled like a schoolgirl with nerves fearing her boys might discover her naked in bed with Russell. The interruption had irritated him, but he’d hidden his annoyance. He had to act the epitome of a caring, chivalrous man until he’d permanently wormed his way into her life and claimed his financial reward.
Such considerate behaviour was not how Russell usually treated his lovers. He’d left a long trail of broken hearts and crushed dreams in his wake. Burying his natural selfish traits was a challenge, but the chance of gaining a large share in a fortune made his struggle to appear to be a loving partner worthwhile.
Swallowing his disappointment, Russell pulled on his bathrobe, kissed Jessie goodnight, and fled into the corridor. He’d have much preferred to stay the night with her to continue working his magic. Lying alone in his bed in his hotel room, he thought, Damn Wayne for interrupting my limited time with his mother. There are only a few days of this holiday left to convince Jessie she can’t live without me. Need her to believe this is more than a mere holiday romance. No pressure, then.
His secret cocaine habit had increased Russell’s anxiety levels, smothering his previous laid-back attitude, one more typical among Jamaicans. He needn’t have worried about Jessie wanting him in her life. Four doors down the corridor, she lay in bed drumming up the courage to invite him to stay with her and her sons in their newly purchased, luxurious Cornish home. Basking in the afterglow of sex with Russell, she dreamed of enjoying a wonderful life with him in Cornwall. Blinded by love and lust, she believed living with Russell Bell would be a blessing after her nightmare existence with Liam O’Sullivan.
Chapter 1. Fears Made Real
On a cloudless early morning in September 2020, pensioner Harold Smythe walked his labradoodle along the grassy banks of the River Don in Sheffield. Sandy ran off his lead, rummaging in the undergrowth, tail wagging furiously.
I’m bloody knackered. Strange pain in my chest. Must rest, thought Harold. Burdened with a serious heart condition, he was still convalescing after a brush with coronavirus in May, so was relieved to spot a bench. He closed his rheumy eyes and sat dozing in the sun listening to the birds gossiping in the trees behind him.
His exhaustion was also due to spending a steamy night with sixty-five-year-old Amy Buckhurst in her chintzy bedroom only half a mile from his bungalow. He’d taken advantage of her husband’s stay in hospital following a hip replacement operation. The previous night, Harold had proved to Amy that there was nothing wrong with Harold’s hips.
As Sandy never left his master’s side, he’d accompanied him on his tryst. Amy had scowled at the hound as it stared at their love-making from the end of the bed. She was livid when Sandy ran off with the purple vibrator Harold had brought with him.
‘You’d better give that a good wash if you intend using it on me again,’ Amy yelled as Harold leapt from the bed, still erect from enjoying her skilled mouth. After running naked around the bungalow in pursuit, penis bouncing, Harold had eventually managed to wrestle it off his dog. After a quick wash, the dented vibrator had been put to extremely good use and was now safe in his pocket. Leaving it at Amy’s house would have run the risk of her husband finding it and asking awkward questions. Harold hoped to use it on Amy during their planned reunion the following day.
Hope that jar of Trouble Cream turns up in time for our session tomorrow, he thought. I’ve heard great things about it from Darren down the pub. Turns a lass into a sex fiend in seconds, apparently. Amy’s already a nympho, so God knows what’ll happen when I slap a dollop of the cream on her bits and pieces. Can’t wait to find out. It was good of Darren to say he’ll help out if she gets too much for me to handle. I quite fancy another threesome with him, but he’d better not hog Amy as he did with Fran, that young blonde with the massive tits we screwed last Friday. She was way out of our league but it seemed to turn her on big time to let two men over twice her age take her back from a piss-up at the pub and roger her senseless. We weren’t complaining.
His penis twitched as he relived the highpoints of his recent threesome with Fran. The pixie-faced blonde bombshell hadn’t had sex for over six months due to social distancing. Her trip to The Pig and Whistle in mid-September was her first time inside a pub since March. As Harold and Darren plied her with glasses of red wine, she told them how she’d lost her job at a beautician’s due to the pandemic and didn’t know how she’d pay the rent to her landlord, Carl, who also owned the pub they were in.
Darren had patted her on her thigh to comfort her, making sure he pushed her skirt up at the same time so they could see her suspenders. Two hours after meeting her, she was so drunk they’d each managed to finger her under the table without any resistance. Harold had said, ‘We’ll give you thirty quid a piece if we can each fuck you in the loos. What do you say, pet?’
‘Lead on. I’m feeling proper horny,’ she’d said, her high heels click-clacking as they steered her out of the bar and along the corridor.
Inside the disabled cubicle, she was too drunk to strip off her top, unhook her bra and pull off her lacy black thong, so the men did it for her. They put their hands over her mouth to quieten her moans as they rubbed and licked her clitoris and fingered both her holes. She came on their fingers and tongues again and again as she swayed, leaning against their shoulders to mumble jibberish into their ears.
Despite their advanced ages, their witty banter and the promise of an extra twenty pounds made it easy for the two men to persuade the drunken thirty-year-old beauty to accompany them to Harold’s house, only three doors down from the pub so they could have the threesome in comfort.
Within five minutes of entering his house, Fran’s short black skirt, top, bra, and thong lay on the carpet, leaving her dressed in only her stockings and heels. She gasped for breath on the verge of an orgasm, spreadeagled on the bed with Harold’s penis buried deep inside her. Darren worked on her breasts, tugging her nipples with his dentures as he waited for his turn to push his solid penis inside her.
Once she’d sobered up and realised how old the lusty pair were who’d had sex with her twice each, she asked to go home. It took much persuasion for them to convince her to stay the night but they eventually got their way.
The following morning, as she lay half-asleep between the two men, Fran was surprised by a knock at the door. Harold and Darren weren’t at all surprised because they’d texted Carl, the rotund pub landlord of The Pig and Whistle, to invite him round to Harold’s house for a foursome. Carl had been perving over Fran ever since she’d sashayed into his life, but she’d found him disgusting and had always rejected his flirtatious advances and invitations to come into his back room with him for a ‘cuddle,’ as he’d put it. She’d known it would’ve been far more than a cuddle because she’d seen rape in his eyes.
Before she’d realised it, Darren and Harold had thrown the sheets off her naked body and had held her down as she’d tried to flee the bedroom.
Stripping naked, Carl said, ‘Pull her knees wider for me, lads… Tug them back behind her ears… Perfect.’
‘Don’t think she’s keen, Carl,’ said Darren as the fat, balding, charmless publican worked two straight fingers like pistons in her.
‘Let me out of here, you creeps,’ yelled Fran, unable to fend off the three men however hard she tried.
Carl crawled between her thighs. Harold still had the bruises on his arm from her kick as he’d held her legs apart for Carl to push his penis inside her. Only the promise of a large reduction in her rent calmed Fran down enough to accept Carl inside her without a struggle. After he’d showered her breasts in his semen, she’d even promised to come back to Harold’s house the following Friday to have another foursome for a reduction in her next month’s rent, too.
It’s sad what some people do to get by during this fucking pandemic, thought Harold, still guilt-ridden over his part in what happened to Fran that Friday. He knew he should’ve been thinking of Amy, who was much more in his league, not a goddess like Fran. He took out his phone and watched the video Darren had shot of Fran bouncing on Harold’s manhood as Carl tugged and tweaked her large nipples. He slid his earphones into his ears to hear her mewling as they took turns to masturbate her as she squatted on the back of his sofa.
Seeing nobody was about, Harold unzipped his trousers and began to masturbate, scrolling through video after video of their Friday night threesome. He found his favourite; a close-up of her entire vulva after they’d bound her naked to the bed with her knees level with her ears. He and Darren had taken turns holding a vibrator on her clitoris and plunging a magnificent glass dildo inside her. Increasing the volume, he listened to the sounds of her orgasms.
Harold had just spurted globules of semen onto the grass when furious barking startled him back to reality. Deciding to ignore his scatty pet, he scolded himself for not thinking of Amy. He closed his eyes to dream of her surprisingly flexible body and wicked mouth. When Sandy refused to stop barking and growling, Harold sighed with irritation, zipped up his trousers and set off to investigate.
‘What’s up with you, you silly sod?’ Drawing closer, he saw that Sandy was barking at a large pale object daubed with splashes of red. Harold’s eyesight was so poor, he couldn’t make out what it was. When it eventually became clear what it was, he gasped, unsure whether to quicken his step towards it or run screaming in the opposite direction.
Lying on her back was the obscenely posed naked body of a teenage girl with short red hair. Her bloodshot eyes stared at Harold accusingly. The poor girl must be dead with a wound like that, he thought, staring in horror at a long gaping slash across her throat. The victim’s right hand was raised. A large nail had been banged through her palm and into the tree trunk propping her up. Blood trails ran down the right-hand side of her body and onto the grass.
Harold had been a womaniser all his life but he’d never seen such large nipples or genitalia as those displayed by the pitiful corpse at his feet. Turning pale, he staggered to a clump of bushes and vomited. He wiped his mouth and fished out his mobile phone from his jacket to summon the police. In his haste, he didn’t notice that the vibrator he’d used on Amy had tumbled from his pocket onto the grass.
Partway through telling the woman at the emergency call centre what he’d found, Harold gasped, clutched his chest and fell headfirst across the girl’s splayed thighs. Sandy sniffed and licked his master’s hand, then lay beside him with his muzzle resting on Harold’s splayed fingers. With the pensioner’s corpse lying beside him, Sandy’s nose twitched as he dreamt of the marrow bone Amy had given him the night before to keep him quiet.
Spotting the purple contraption he’d run off with earlier, Sandy retrieved it from the grass and began chewing it as he lay beside his motionless master. Before his sudden fatal heart attack, Harold had given enough details to the woman on the phone for her to send assistance. Sadly, when the police and ambulance arrived, there was nobody to save except a whining, sad-eyed dog.
DCI Jeremy Cosgrove’s team were allocated the case. He and DS Theresa Smart parked near the cordoned-off scene and pulled on their protective gear.
Jeremy had become one of Theresa’s close friends rather than just her boss. Their friendship and mutual respect was the result of the nightmare they’d both endured over a year before. Theresa’s niece, Chloe, and Welsh liaison officer, Kate Pendleton, had also been sucked into the nightmare. Jeremy still couldn’t believe his luck that sexy Kate was now his exclusive, live-in lover. At least, that’s what he thought she was. Kate had other ideas on their exclusivity which she hid from him.
The chaos had started in June 2019 when Kate had been in the process of seducing Jeremy in his car, parked in their station’s car park. The almost naked police officers were surprised by Grant Trafford, the station’s security guard, tapping on the car window with a phone to his eye.
After surreptitiously smearing Kate’s vagina, nipples, and rectum with Trouble, a sexual arousal cream, Grant had videoed the acutely aroused brunette begging him to relieve her sexual frustration. He’d proceeded to have sex with her, after gaining her videoed consent. He’d then blackmailed Jeremy into performing pornographic acts on Kate while Grant videoed them. Jeremy and Kate naturally hadn’t wanted any of their explicit videos to surface, especially as he was married with children.
Over a couple of weeks, events had conspired that left Theresa, her niece, as well as Kate, vulnerable to blackmail and abuse. Grant’s gang had used the trio’s sex videos to blackmail them into becoming their sex slaves. If they’d refused to comply, or if Jeremy had tried to prevent the gang’s fun, the videos would’ve been made public, leaving their lives and reputations in tatters.
More than a year had passed since their brush with Trouble, yet it still worried the three women and Jeremy to know the disgusting images must still exist and could resurface at any time.
On the banks of the River Don, a tent had been erected over the two corpses. SOCOs in their baggy white overalls and protective headgear went about their gruesome task. Alarm bells rang in Jeremy’s brain when one of his older male officers said, ‘The female victim’s nipples are enormous, like something out of a Robert Crumb cartoon.’
‘Who’s Robert Crumb? Never seen a clit that large either,’ said a much younger male officer.
The older man sighed. ‘Crumb drew cartoons of nubile teenage girls in Oz magazine, an underground magazine from my youth.’
Heading inside the tent to see if his fears were founded, Jeremy said, ‘Have some bloody respect, you two.’
What he saw made him want to throw up his breakfast. How could someone do such terrible things to such a young girl? he thought. I’ll catch the evil, twisted bastard who did this to her if it’s the last thing I do.
‘Distressing case, sir,’ said Theresa. ‘Worst I’ve dealt with. Did you clock the vibrator?’
Jeremy nodded, ‘Of course I did. I’m not blind. Did the old guy use it on her, I wonder? The bloody dog’s chewed it badly. Doubt we’ll get any of the victim’s DNA off it but bag it for testing. The way she’s been posed is stomach-churning. Does it remind you of anything?’
‘Don’t pussyfoot around,’ said Theresa. ‘You’re referring to the victim’s enlarged genitalia and nipples. As you well know, the same deformities were inflicted on me, Chloe, and Kate. The second I saw the girl, I recognised the effects of Trouble Cream followed by a suction tube.’
Jeremy nodded. ‘I’d stake my life the same happened to our Jane Doe.’
Chapter 2. Spreading Herself Thin
Theresa’s mention of Kate made Jeremy feel warm and fuzzy. He’d just spent another energetic night with his beautiful, nymphomaniac liaison officer before attending the murder scene. For the past three weeks, Jeremy had spent most of his time with the Welsh sex addict. Sabrina had thrown him out of the marital home after his affair with Kate had come to light.
Suspicious her husband might be cheating, Sabrina had discovered Jeremy’s second phone taped to the back of his desk drawer in his den. On it, she’d found hundreds of pornographic videos featuring Kate and Jeremy. With Sabrina’s vitriolic words burning in his brain, Jeremy had packed his precious collection of beige suits and as many other possessions that he could fit in his car, then moved straight into Kate’s house. Divorce proceedings were well underway.
Jeremy was infatuated with Kate, so was thrilled with his new living arrangements. Kate wasn’t quite so enthusiastic. Forced to be with Jeremy at home as well as at work compromised her freedom to have sex with whoever took her fancy whenever she chose.
The previous weekend, Kate had made the long journey from Sheffield to Cornwall to visit Brent Simpson. He was the handsome, wheelchair-bound Cornishman who’d been Kate’s only ally after she’d been kidnapped and abused at Hungerford Hall. Her abusers had been elderly twins, Lord Crispin and Lord Monty. Arthur Simpson and his friend, Nigel Berkshaw, had also made Kate’s life a living hell during her captivity.
All Kate’s abusers were awaiting trial, as well as those who’d brutally raped her shortly before and after her captivity at Hungerford Hall. With nobody left at the Hall to look after Brent, carers visited him there daily to tend to his needs. Kate’s weekend visit had cheered up Brent and Kate no end. Each time his carers left him alone, Kate had sashayed into his bedroom and administered her special brand of sexual healing. By the end of the weekend, they’d been a little in love and Kate had promised to return as soon as possible.
Living with Jeremy complicated her relationship with Brent. She’d failed to allay Jeremy’s suspicions that there was far more than friendship between Kate and the dark-haired hunk. Jeremy had met him, so he knew Brent looked and sounded like he’d been wheeled off the set of Poldark and was closer to Kate’s age than Jeremy, too. Her boss was attractive but not breathtakingly handsome like Brent. As far as Kate was concerned, her relationship with Jeremy was a temporary arrangement. Jeremy hoped and prayed he’d be a permanent fixture in her life.
Jeremy and Theresa went about their work at the riverbank crime scene. ‘Hopefully, we’ll soon have a name for the female victim,’ he said. ‘There’s a strong chance the girl could be Gill Updyke. Her foster parents reported her missing two days ago. She looks about the right age and description.’
Theresa said, ‘According to his bank cards, the pensioner’s name is Harold Smythe.’
Jeremy said, ‘If he hadn’t been the one to report the crime, I might’ve suspected he’d murdered her, especially as he was found dead and draped across her body with a vibrator nearby.’
‘But there’ve been many cases where the murderer’s reported the crime,’ said Theresa. ‘Until the autopsy, we don’t know his cause of death. On initial examination, he has no obvious injuries that would’ve killed him. I reckon he’d been using the vibrator on her, sir. Why else would it be there?’
‘I hear what you’re saying,’ said Jeremy. ‘But, we’ve found no hammer or anything that could’ve been used to drive the nail through her hand and into the tree.’
‘Don’t want to malign Mr Smythe, but he could’ve thrown the weapon into the river,’ said Theresa. ‘If he’d used a rock to bash in the nail, there’ll be rock particles on the nail head. A search of the river is about to begin, so we’ll soon know.’
Jeremy scratched his chin. ‘I could be wrong, but I have a gut feeling the girl’s death has nothing to do with the pensioner. What killer takes their dog with them when they murder someone? Mr Smythe’s dog wouldn’t leave his side.’
‘Such touching devotion. He’ll be well looked after, sir.’
Jeremy said, ‘What worries me is the likelihood Trouble Cream’s been used on the girl. We know it’s started to be sold online. The two bastards who used it on Kate after she’d escaped from those perverts in Hungerford Hall had bought Trouble on eBay.’
‘That was around Christmas time,’ said Theresa. We’ve had the global pandemic since then. Social distancing made sex with strangers a no-no. There can’t have been much demand for Trouble Cream. Lockdown is easing. Desperate, sex-starved individuals are starting to risk hooking up, so there’s now a market for the cream.’
‘This is what I’ve been dreading,’ said Jeremy. ‘Fenton Nightingale must be behind its distribution. So, do I arrest him and risk the porn videos of us going public?’
‘That’s a tough call, sir. Keeping the material private was why Kate, Chloe and I ended up submitting to Grant and his gang’s sexual demands. Whatever we decide, we must do it soon, before Trouble Cream spreads worldwide. Coronavirus bought us some time. We’ve seen firsthand the devastation the cream causes. We need to think outside the box.’
‘As I recall, you’re an expert at thinking outside the box,’ said Jeremy, chuckling. ‘You played a blinder when you suggested using the skills of renowned homosexual Grayson Hinton to defeat Grant’s gang. I still laugh remembering filming Grayson having his wicked way with all the naked gang members above Jimmy’s pub after Grant’s dea—’
‘Shush!’ whispered Theresa, checking nobody had heard what he’d said. ‘Officially, Grant’s only missing.’
Jeremy winced. ‘Sorry. Slip of the tongue.’
Theresa proudly wore the diamond engagement ring that Jimmy Trafford, Grant’s uncle, had given her two weeks before. Her boss had done a wonderful job keeping Jimmy safe from prosecution for Grant’s murder. No accusing fingers had pointed at Theresa for helping Jimmy dispose of Grant’s body, or for murdering DS Alan Niles after he’d raped her following his recruitment into Grant’s gang. Theresa had never told Jeremy she’d fatally stabbed DS Niles. Nobody except Theresa and Jimmy knew he was dead, although many, including Jeremy, suspected he might be because Alan Niles and Grant had been missing for over a year.
The day after the two corpses appeared on the bank of the River Don, Jeremy and Theresa discussed the results of both autopsies in his office. The forensic pathologist on duty was Jane Ramsden, a butch lesbian with short, wiry grey hair who Jeremy suspected was pleasuring Kate behind his back. He’d seen how intently she gazed at Kate and had caught them in deep, flirtatious conversations on several occasions. He hated how Jane stroked Kate’s arm or back when they talked.
Theresa said, ‘We’ve just had confirmation of the female victim’s identity, sir. She’s Gill Updyke, as you thought.’
‘Looks like Harold Smythe suffered a fatal heart attack at the scene. He wasn’t murdered and there was none of Gill’s DNA on the vibrator. Apart from Harold’s DNA, there was an unknown DNA present on it belonging to a woman called Amy Buckhurst. We have her DNA on the system after she was jailed for stabbing her first husband. He survived, but only just,’ said Jeremy.
‘Shall I visit her to find out how Harold Smythe came to have a vibrator with her DNA on it, boss? It might help to flesh out his movements before he ended up sprawled across Gill.’
‘Yes, please, Theresa, although the DNA is from vaginal fluid, so it’s obvious how it got there. Mrs Buckhurst might know about Smythe’s movements that day, though. She has a husband, so you’d better interview her alone. Don’t want to cause a messy domestic.’
‘Quite so. I’ll be discreet.’
‘Gill was murdered elsewhere,’ said Jeremy. ‘She’d been dead for over twenty-four hours before her body was found. If she’d been murdered by the river, someone would’ve spotted her body. That part of the river is popular, especially in this sunny weather. There was blood on her body but not much on the surrounding ground. There would’ve been far more if her throat had been cut where she was found.’
Pointing to the autopsy report, Theresa said, ‘This is odd. Jane mentions puncture marks around the perimeter of the girl’s nipples. There’s a small hole through the tip. There were still specks of dried blood on them, so the small wounds were relatively fresh. Probably inflicted before the time of death.’
‘I spotted the marks yesterday,’ said Jeremy. ‘Jane told me in the canteen how perplexed she was about the victim’s freakishly enlarged nipples and genitalia. I had to plead ignorance, although you and I know damned well what caused the enlargements. Jane added that she’d recently seen similar enlargements in another woman, but didn’t say who. You’ve not been flashing your fanny at Jane, have you?’
‘I should think not, sir. Maybe you should ask Kate. I don’t want to be a tattletale but I caught her coming out of Jane’s office looking flushed and dishevelled last Thursday.’
I knew I was right. Jane’s shagging Kate, thought Jeremy, trying not to show his anger.
Ignoring Jeremy’s distress, Theresa said, ‘If we don’t do something about Fenton Nightingale’s invention soon, the world will soon see a flood of such body changes if Trouble Cream gets into the wrong hands. Hope it’s not too late.’
Jeremy said, ‘Now that bloody Fenton’s resigned and vanished, we must step up our efforts to find him. It’s hard to make decent headway in our search when we’re so busy on official cases. Hunting him down only when we’re off duty isn’t ideal.’
‘We both know what we must do if and when we find the little shit,’ said Theresa with a meaningful look.
With an equally sombre expression, Jeremy nodded and said, ‘I do. It can’t be avoided.’
Theresa leaned closer. Her whisper was so soft, Jeremy could barely hear her. ‘Just to make sure there’s no misunderstanding, I was talking about us killing him.’
‘So was I, Theresa,’ he whispered.
Jeremy knew finding young Fenton Nightingale was personal for Theresa. After listening to what Fenton, Grant, and a vile, toothless freak nicknamed Gummy Bear had done to Theresa in Fenton’s converted ambulance the previous year, Jeremy understood why his DS detested the brilliant yet dangerous scientist.
Theresa’s nipples and clitoral hood still hadn’t returned to their normal size after falling foul of Trouble Cream the previous year. She was too embarrassed to mention this fact to her boss, but her fiancé was enjoying her enhancements.
She knew Jeremy was having first-hand experience of the long-term effects of Trouble because he lived with and was having sex with Kate, whose private parts were even larger than her own. The women had occasionally compared notes in the station’s toilets, stripping naked to examine each other’s affected parts, hoping for shrinkage. It was easier to spot changes in someone else’s body than to check their own. They did so without any embarrassment. Their inhibitions had vanished after their first bizarre liaison in the disabled toilets of Jimmy’s pub the previous year when Kate had asked Theresa to examine her recent enlargements and advise whether she should attend A&E.
Just as she’d done in the toilet in Jimmy’s pub, Theresa had relieved Kate’s sexual frustration while examining her. The younger brunette suffered from more regular and intense waves of arousal than Theresa as the Welsh liaison officer had been a sex addict even before encountering Trouble Cream.
If Jeremy was at work, Kate naturally visited his office so he could give her the orgasms she was addicted to, but her boss was often busy or out of the building working on a case. Theresa had been the only person Kate could safely ask to relieve her.
That was until Jane Ramsden had seduced Kate inside Jane’s back office on the previous Thursday. Kate had knocked on Jane’s door to collect a forensic report for Jeremy. Jane had invited her to sit down while she located the report. The beautiful liaison officer had seemed restless, squirming in her swivel chair as another wave of arousal raged through her. Jane had watched her crossing and uncrossing her legs and wondered why she was so fidgety.
As Kate had always seemed to welcome Jane’s flirtations and touches, the forensic scientist had boldly said, ‘You know I fancy the arse off you, don’t you, Kate?’
‘You don’t beat about the bush, do you?’
‘I’d beat your bush any day, love,’ said Jane with a smirk.
‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t have a bush,’ Kate had said with a smile.
‘Cheeky! Is that report ready? The boss is waiting for it,’ said Kate, desperate to rub herself between her thighs.
‘Is there something wrong, dear? You’re wriggling like an eel. You’ve either got ants in your pants or you’re feeling super-horny. I’d love to help if it’s the latter,’ Jane had said, placing a hand on Kate’s thigh and squeezing it.
When Kate didn’t complain or brush her hand away, the older woman had grown bolder and slowly edged Kate’s black, floaty skirt high enough to reveal her stocking tops and suspenders. ‘I knew it’d be suspenders. Splendid.’
Kate was a sucker for being admired and dominated and hadn’t objected when Jane had pulled Kate’s knees wide apart. Surprised and delighted, she’d seen no panties, just the wettest vulva and largest clitoral hood she’d ever seen, and Jane had seen scores in her lifetime.
Stretching out a trembling hand, Jane had slid two fingers deep inside Kate. As she’d moved them faster and faster, she’d muttered, ‘Girls with no panties and tight, wet pussies are also a favourite of mine. You were right about no bush. Don’t move a muscle. I must lock the door.’ When she’d returned, she’d pulled out an impressive black strap-on from a drawer.
‘Odd thing to find in a forensic lab, ‘ Kate had said as Jane removed her sensible skirt and stepped into the strap-on.
Jane chuckled. ‘I hook up in here every Monday evening with a hot little blonde PC who enjoys my services. I’m confident you will, too. She says I’m great with my tongue and fingers. Let’s see if you agree with her.’
Crouching between Kate’s parted thighs, she’d lapped at Kate’s vulva as she’d moaned and mewled. After pulling the fleshy hood back and rubbing the large clitoris, Jane had said, ‘Quick. Undo your blouse. I’ve wanted to suck on your big titties ever since you joined Cosgrove’s team.’
Kate had been used to taking commands for years. After Jane had sucked and licked the largest nipples she’d ever seen, Kate had stripped naked except for her heels, stockings and suspenders and laid back on Jane’s desk with her legs dangling over the woman’s broad shoulders. She’d gasped and blasphemed as she’d taken the full force of Jane’s strap-on. Kate had lost count of the orgasms during her visit. The floor had become so slick with ejaculate, Jane had slipped a few times before wiping it up with tissues.
‘Come back whenever you feel the urge, Kate. Text me first in case I’m carving up a body,’ Jane whispered an hour later as she’d shown Kate out of her office straight into the path of DS Theresa Smart.
‘Your buttons are done up wrong. I reckon I can guess why,’ Theresa had said, frowning with suspicion at Kate’s unusually dishevelled appearance.
Undoing and rebuttoning her blouse correctly, Kate had thought her friend looked and sounded like a jealous lover, which she was. Knowing Jeremy was also a jealous lover, Kate had taken care to keep quiet about her lesbian dalliances with Theresa and dominant Jane. As neither woman expected Kate to pleasure them, selfish Kate was only too willing to be used as their plaything if it meant she could enjoy a few more orgasms.
Chapter 3. Kate Makes Enquiries
Kate Pendleton drove over to visit Gill Updyke’s foster parents to offer them support and discover more about the teenager. Her urge to come had been temporarily quelled that day after managing to fit in a quick orgasm with Jeremy, Theresa, and Jane without any of them guessing she’d visited the other two. She hoped the urge to come wouldn’t surface during what promised to be an emotional meeting.
The semi-detached property was in a quiet, affluent area of Sheffield. Sarah Dawkins, a blonde, plump woman in her late forties, led Kate into a cosy living room. Sarah had a pleasant face though looked like she’d not slept. Jack, her tall, balding, skinny husband hovered in the background looking sheepish and embarrassed, which puzzled Kate. The mismatched couple reminded her of the nursery rhyme,
Jack Sprat could eat no fat,
His wife could eat no lean.
And so betwixt them both
They licked the platter clean.
Gill’s foster parents were in shock, riddled with guilt over how she’d died in the worst possible way while in their care.
‘I feel bad speaking ill of the dead,’ said Jack Dawkins, ‘but Gill was always a handful ever since she came to live here two years ago,’. ‘Her druggy parents were terrible influences on her. By the time we took charge of her, the damage was done. Gill was an uncontrollable wild child. She didn’t abide by any lockdown restrictions.’
His tearful wife nodded. ‘We tried our damnedest to discipline Gill, but she’d just laugh at us and did whatever she liked. She sneaked out of the house at all hours of the day and night. Jack often saw a white car pick her up outside when she thought we were asleep.’
Jack said, ‘I couldn’t make out the driver’s face, but he was a young Asian.’
‘Any idea of the make of car?’ said Kate. ‘Did he have any distinctive features? Facial hair or glasses for instance?’
‘Possibly a white Mazda,’ said Jack. ‘The driver was clean-shaven without glasses, but I wouldn’t be able to identify him in a line-up. I couldn’t see anyone else in the car, but there might’ve been someone in the back. Wish I could be more helpful.’
‘Weekends were a nightmare,’ said Sarah. ‘Gill never did her homework, played truant from school, and was failing badly in her exams. We’d hardly ever see her. Her school couldn’t discipline her either during the lockdown.’
‘Sounds like she really put you through it,’ said Kate.
‘Gill was deeply disturbed. Her upbringing was appalling, so it’s not surprising. Her father used her mother as a punchbag and abused their three children. He ended up killing his missus. That’s why Gill came to us. Breaks my heart to think about what she endured before we took her in.’
‘I’m sure you both did your best to help her,’ said Kate. ‘Please, don’t beat yourselves up about what happened.’
Sarah said, ‘It’s impossible to help some people.’
Seeing Sarah’s bottom lip wobble, Kate put a comforting hand on the distraught woman’s arm. ‘Was there anything unusual about the last time you saw her?’
Jack’s cheeks burned red as he thought of their last meeting. ‘Um, well, it’s too uncomfortable for me to talk about, so I’m going to shut myself in the kitchen and let my wife tell you what happened if it’s okay with you.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Kate.
Jack shuffled awkwardly from the room, thinking, Thank God Sarah will sort it out. I couldn’t possibly tell that beautiful woman what Gill did to me.
Once her husband had left the room, Sarah looked at the floor rather than at Kate. ‘I’m not sure how to say this. We’re still in shock over what happened when Gill came home on Saturday morning.’
‘I assume she’d been out all night again,’ said Kate.
Sarah nodded. She talked fast, wanting the ordeal to be over and done with. ‘I was in my dressing gown making Jack and I a brew in the kitchen. He was in bed having a lie-in. Jack works so hard at the bank. When Gill let herself into the house, she looked badly dishevelled.’
‘In what way?’ asked Kate.
‘She looked possessed, hair all over the place. She was flushed and her mascara was smeared. She ignored me and staggered upstairs. Thee way she looked scared me, so I followed her upstairs. I have a bad hip, so it took a while to reach her. By the time I did, Gill was in our bedroom, kicking off her trainers and flinging herself on our bed, waking Jack. He was horrified to see her ripping off her clothes. She begged him to have sex with her, although put it far more crudely. Jack was so confused, poor love. Before we could stop her, she was naked, thrusting her lady parts in his face. She was like a wild animal. Disgusting sight.’
Sarah’s account sounds horribly familiar, thought Kate. It happened to me. I’d love to tell her that I know exactly what caused Gill’s crude behaviour but I can’t. She’d never believe me if I told her what I’ve been through. We can’t panic the public by releasing any information about Trouble. Not yet, anyway.
She said, ‘I now understand why your husband felt so uncomfortable about discussing such a disturbing incident with me. You must both be as traumatised by her behaviour as you are about her death. Pardon me for asking, but were Gill’s nipples and genitalia abnormally enlarged when she tried to seduce Jack?’
Sarah nodded. ‘Well, I’ve never seen Gill naked before, so I don’t know if she was born like that, but I’ve never seen bits and bobs that large.’
‘What happened next?’ said Kate.
Sarah looked pained by the memory. ‘I pulled Gill off the bed and threw her clothes at her. We dragged her screaming into her bedroom and told her to dress and calm down. We left her to it, but, five minutes later, we heard her leave the house. I went outside and called after her to come back. She ignored me and ran up the road.’
‘Where she was heading?’ said Kate.
‘Towards the town. I told you about my bad hip. I could never have caught her. Gill dashed up to a man who was walking along the pavement, grabbed his arm and pulled up the front of her skirt. She was a fair distance up the road from me, but I could see she had no knickers on. Gill begged him to have sex with her, just as she’d done to Jack. She was showing him her bits and rubbing them against his groin. The man looked as confused as we were. At first, he tried to pull away from her. Gill is… I mean was, an attractive girl and he soon stopped pulling away. I could see he was considering going along with her demands.’
I can tell what’s coming next, thought Kate, remembering the desperation she’d felt under Trouble’s powerful influence.
‘I couldn’t believe my eyes. The bloke shoved his hand between Gill’s thighs and… how can I put it? Basically, the pig masturbated her, ignoring my shouts to leave her alone.’
‘How awful,’ said Kate. ‘Sorry you and Jack had to go through all this. I’m also sorry for Gill.’
‘I was horrified by what the man did. I couldn’t tell if he or Gill pulled her top up, but he was sucking her… um… Sorry—Can’t bring myself to describe it.’
‘I get the picture, Sarah. Don’t distress yourself.’
‘Jack had dressed by this time and joined me by our gate. He ran up the road to stop the man when all of a sudden, liquid shot from between Gill’s thighs all over the man.’
Gushing’s another effect of the cream, thought Kate. I was like the Trevi Fountain with hardly any stimulation. I still gush and it’s been ages since the cream was inflicted on me.
‘The bastard disappeared before I could reach him,’ said Jack as he left the kitchen and joined them. ‘There are CCTV cameras in our street, so you might be able to identify him and bang him in jail. He wore a beige suit if that’s any help.’
Knowing beige suits were all Jeremy ever wore, Kate thought, Beige suit? Surely it can’t be him, can it? Jeremy’s not fat or ugly, but not many men wear beige suits these days. She said, ‘What colour hair did he have?’
‘Dark brown. He had a goatee beard and a thin moustache,’ said Sarah.
Phew! It’s not Jeremy, then, thought Kate. I was just being paranoid. Jeremy’s hair matches his suits and he’s clean-shaven. There’s been so much weirdness in my life, I had to doublecheck it wasn’t him.
‘We’ll sift through CCTV footage filmed over the past couple of weeks, so we’ll hopefully find the suited stranger and the driver of the white Mazda on it,’ said Kate. ‘When you both feel stronger, please visit the station to make a written statement about what you’ve told me.’
Sarah sighed deeply. ‘What Gill did has traumatised Jack. He’s painfully shy and doesn’t want to discuss what Gill did.’
‘I understand his concerns, but we’ll make it as painless as possible. We do need your signed statements.’
‘After Gill came onto him, Jack worried I’d think they’d been having some sort of sick affair. It would’ve labelled him a paedophile because Gill only turned sixteen a couple of weeks ago and she’d been living here for two years. It took me a while to convince him I trust him completely. You can see he’s not that kind of man.’
‘I need to ask you something, Sarah,’ said Kate. ‘You were probably both too confused and startled to notice, but were there any puncture marks around one of Gill’s nipples and a small hole through the tip? There would’ve been some blood.’
Sarah thought a while. ‘No. If there’d been blood on her, I would’ve noticed. Why?’
Kate knew she couldn’t avoid telling her, even though it would further distress the woman. ‘There were odd marks which must have occurred after she returned home. Please, ask Jack if he noticed them. Better you ask him rather than me.’
‘Sorry for being such a wuss,’ said Jack. ‘Looks like I’ll have to toughen up and talk more openly if I’m going to get through this. The killer might escape if I opt out of the situation. No, I didn’t see any marks.’
‘Thank you, sir. I appreciate your input. You’ll be pleased to know I’m returning to the station now. I’ll be in touch to update you. If you think of anything else that might help our investigations, here’s my number to contact me directly.’
Kate handed Jack her card and stood up to leave. The couple looked shell-shocked as they showed her out. Kate’s heart went out to them as she waved goodbye and sashayed to her car, her flippy skirt blowing in the autumnal breeze.
Jack couldn’t tell his wife what he was thinking. It’s odd, but the outline of Kate’s nipples through her blouse looked very similar to Gill’s. Much larger and more erect than any I’ve ever seen, even in porn films. There’s something odd going on that I don’t understand. I’m living in The Twilight Zone.
NURU AND HIS CROWS
1. Meeting Nuru
Cara O’Grady’s sleeveless top stuck to her back with sweat and rain as she walked with her husband along the muddy path between the exotic trees. Two hot, sticky days had passed since she and Declan had arrived in the Congo Basin. Their hotel was comfortable but nothing like the luxurious hotels they were used to. Wish I was back in Tunbridge Wells, she thought. I never should have agreed to come to Africa with Declan while he’s working on his next blockbuster film.
Her husband needed to sniff out suitable film locations as there’d be no time to do so when shooting began, which is why the couple found themselves trudging through the jungle undergrowth dripping with sweat. He was throwing himself into the task with gusto, but Cara found the trip challenging. The statuesque blonde beauty was used to life’s comforts since marrying the brilliant world-acclaimed film director. Roughing it in the Congo Basin was not her style. She yearned for the comfort and opulence of their multi-million-pound property in Tunbridge Wells in Kent, particularly its large infinity pool.
Trekking through the jungle covered in insect bites wasn’t how she’d planned to celebrate their fifteenth wedding anniversary. A meal at the Ivy was more her style. She was also irked to be hitting forty the following year. Used to admiration, she’d come to expect men’s eyes to follow her wherever she went. Declan was never jealous when men showed interest in his wife’s body. Far from it. He actively encouraged it, so long as the man concerned let Declan watch him have sex with Cara.
The humidity played havoc with her thick blonde hair and had begun to rot her expensive clothes. She hadn’t packed wisely for the climate. Despite the stifling heat, it had rained every day. Doting Declan told her she still looked beautiful despite the ravages of the climate, but she didn’t believe him.
When the couple met in Milan in 1993, Cara was a famous catwalk model with the world at her feet. Swept away by her beauty, wit, and sexual prowess, Declan had resolved to make her his own. Five years older than Cara, he was used to getting what he wanted. The Irishman was confident, but not arrogant. They were married six months later. Fifteen years on and childless by design, they still doted on each other like soppy teenagers.
‘Oh, look. Here’s the house my PA advised me to visit,’ said Declan, pointing to a ramshackle wooden house set back from the perilous path. ‘Sandy said it might add some extra colour to the film. Nuru, some sort of fortune-teller, lives here, apparently. Always wanted to have my fortune told. It’ll keep us out of this rain for a while. Fancy it?’
‘Fancy it? Fancy it?’ squawked a large one-legged crow tethered to a wooden perch outside the rundown property.
Cara squealed with alarm and hid behind Declan.
‘Quiet, Bobo or I’ll slice off your other leg!’ boomed a deep voice from inside the house.
Irritated that Declan was videoing the bird and seemed intent on dragging her where she didn’t want to go, Cara said, ‘That bloody crow frightened the life out of me. If that was Nuru shouting, I don’t want to meet him. Don’t get so close to that mangy bird. You might pick up some nasty disease.’
Declan chuckled. ‘Honestly. You’re such a hypochondriac. I wonder what breed it is. It’s much larger than a normal crow.’
She backed away from the staring creature as something shot out between its beak. ‘Yuck! Never knew crows had such long tongues. Don’t like how he’s waggling it at me.’
Declan shrugged. ‘Must be some freak of nature, judging by the size of it. I’d love to use it in the film if the owner will let me. Come on. Let’s see if we can go inside.’
Peering through the hole in the wall that served as a window, Cara said, ‘Must we? It looks scary.’
Declan nodded. ‘It’ll add more local colour to the film. I must look inside.’
Cara pulled a face. ‘Is it safe? Looks creepy. Oh, God! There’s some weird-looking, half-naked guy in there with the maddest hair I’ve ever seen.’
Nuru looked about fifty and sat crosslegged on the floor in a revealing loincloth studded in cowrie shells. His long salt-and-pepper corkscrew hair stuck out wildly at all angles, topped with a headdress made from black feathers and cowrie shells. A bird’s leg, complete with talons, hung from a beaded chain around his neck.
‘Look,’ whispered Declan. ‘A native woman is sitting in front of him.’
Cara strained to see more clearly, thinking, Why are her knees so wide apart? What’s she doing?
The woman threw her head back and began to moan. ‘Sounds like she’s having the mother of all orgasms,’ whispered Declan. ‘Wish she didn’t have her back to us.’
‘I bet you do, you dirty sod,’ said Cara, who was prone to jealousy. Even with her back to them, she could tell the woman was beautiful, with curly, black, waist-length hair and a small waist. ‘Let’s leave them in peace.’
‘I can hear everything you’re saying out there, you know,’ said Nuru in a booming French accent. ‘Please enter. I’ve finished reading Saamiva’s fortune and Davu’s almost completed her treatment.’
The beautiful large-breasted villager looked embarrassed, clearly wishing Cara and Declan would wait outside, but Nuru seemed unconcerned her privacy was being invaded. Pulling her vibrant traditional African skirt over her knees, the woman sat panting on one of several low stools arranged in a semi-circle in front of the fortune teller. Slurping noises were still coming from under her skirts. Cara and Declan silently watched her eyes roll back in her head in ecstasy.
Nuru placed a hand on the gasping woman’s head. ‘Your treatment has ended. Davu, come out and meet our guests.’
To Cara and Declan’s surprise, a crow even larger than the one-legged bird on the perch outside emerged from beneath the woman’s long skirts and flew onto Nuru’s shoulder. It whispered in his ear before flying onto a perch behind him.
Small white vertebrae were scattered across the dirt floor. Her future can’t be looking too rosy judging by how upset she looks, thought Cara. I could’ve sworn the bird said, ‘Saamiva’s as clean as a whistle, master.’ But that makes no sense. Odd. There’s a wet patch in front of where she’s sitting.
Sensing she was being dismissed, Saamiva wiped her tears on her arm, clambered to her feet and staggered from the dwelling. Nuru scooped up the bones and placed them in a drawstring bag which he put inside a box decorated with cowrie shells.
Declan and Cara sat on the low wooden stools feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Dead animals gazed down with unseeing eyes from the grubby walls. Mystical artefacts and jars containing herbs, dried exotic flowers, and pickled animal parts were crowded onto the wooden shelves.
Worried the crow might fly up her short skirt, Cara tried to keep her thighs firmly closed. The bird stared at her as though reading her mind. She squealed when it dropped from its perch onto the floor and high-stepped over to her feet, cawing excitedly. As though Cara’s feet had a mind of their own, they planted themselves wide apart, giving the crow a clear view of her crotch. Declan looked aghast when she didn’t shut her legs to restore her modesty.
Cara tried to move or scream at the bird to leave her alone but it was as though she and Declan had transformed into statues. The crow hopped between her knees, squawking, ‘Pretty lady! Pretty lady.’ Its master sat, arms folded as the crow did the unthinkable and plucked out a few curly strands of Cara’s copious golden pubic hair that curled around the edge of her thong. She yelped with shock and pain, but when she tried to shout obscenities at the man and his abusive crow, the words wouldn’t come out.
Noticing that Declan looked like he wanted to punch the bird in the head, Nuru spoke in a language the couple didn’t understand. Leaving a black feather on the floor next to her, the smug crow flew back onto its perch and placed the pubic hair in a dish attached to the pole.
Cara was relieved to be able to close her legs again. Declan looked as shaken as his wife by what he’d just witnessed. Thanks to his voyeuristic bent, he also felt inexplicably aroused after watching Nuru staring up his wife’s skirt. ‘Are you okay, Cara?’ said Declan, stroking her arm.
She wanted to scream, ‘Of course I’m bloody not,’ but found herself nodding. Whatever had taken over mastery of her legs was still controlling her will. Normally, she’d have stormed out of the building and summoned the police, but something made her smile and bat her eyelids at Nuru, although it was the last thing she wanted to do.
The fortune-teller turned to her. ‘Take Davu’s feather. It’s his special gift to you. He likes you. Keep it safe and it’ll bring you good fortune. Never lose it.’
Cara dared not refuse, too scared to ask why she mustn’t lose the feather. Slipping it into her shoulder bag, she muttered her gratitude, although wanted nothing to do with the gift. She shot Declan a what-have-you-got-me-into look.
There was a curtained-off room behind their host where Cara guessed the charismatic African lived. Delicious cooking aromas filled their nostrils. Hearing the clatter of pans, they assumed his wife must be cooking lunch. Hopefully, we won’t have to stay in this shithole for much longer if this freak’s going to be eating soon, thought Cara.
Nuru glared at her, as though he’d read her mind. She felt her thighs spring open again, giving him another view of her crotch. As he stared at it, she felt a powerful tingling sensation, as though something was rubbing her clitoris hard and fast. Declan’s eyes widened as he noticed Nuru’s middle finger was moving fast as the crotch of his wife’s crimson thong turned maroon from her gathering copious juices. But he’s not even touching her, he thought. Massively aroused, his wife shuddered and climaxed, just as Saamiva had done.
Cara was mesmerised by the fortune teller’s otherworldly aura. His large, dark eyes pierced her soul as though reading her life story without her saying a word. She was desperate to leave but a malevolent force anchored her to the spot.
‘How much do you charge to tell our fortunes?’ said Declan, taking out his wallet.
‘Twenty thousand francs each,’ said the unsmiling man.
‘That’s less than a tenner each,’ Declan whispered to her, taking two notes from his wallet.
Before Declan could hand over the money, to his surprise, the crow swooped down from its perch and snatched the notes. Nuru opened the box and the bird placed the money inside. Cara shot Davu a cautious glance, hoping her thighs wouldn’t part again, but he flew back to his perch without any further humiliating incidents.
Nuru took his drawstring bag containing animal vertebrae out of the box and turned to Declan. ‘I’ll read your fortune first, Mr O’Grady. Give me your hands.’
Odd. I didn’t tell him my name, did I? thought Declan, leaning forwards and placing both hands, palms upwards, into Nuru’s. The strange man closed his dark eyes and tilted his head back, breathing deeply. The clattering in the kitchen ceased, as though whoever was in there sensed Nuru was communing with another world and mustn’t be distracted. Indecipherable words fell from his thick, blood-red lips.
Opening his eyes, he picked up the bag of bones and scattered them across the floor. Staring at them, he stroked his square chin, deep in thought. The tension crackled like electricity in the room. Concerned by his serious expression, the couple looked at each other, wondering when he’d speak.
They jumped when he said in a booming voice, ‘Interesting… The bones tell me that you recently shared your wife with a dark-haired, well-endowed man. Correct?’
Their jaws dropped, horrified that the creepy African somehow knew about the steamy threesome they’d had with Jeff the night before their trip to Africa. Jeff Klein was a thirty-year-old garage mechanic and one of the men Declan enjoyed watching having adventurous sex with Cara. Jeff was heavily into bondage and their sessions took hours.
Nuru chuckled. ‘Your faces tell me I’m right. Good for you. Boundaries are meant to be broken, especially those between worlds. I always speak honestly about what I see in the past, present or future, good or bad. I could say more about your unconventional past, but time’s short. Another woman is visiting me soon. Do you want to hear what I see in your futures? Some folk fear honesty, but lies are for fools.’
Declan looked at Cara for guidance, fearing what they might hear. After witnessing how accurate the man had been about their threesome, they were in complete awe of his special powers. ‘Tell us,’ said the bewitched film director.
‘Right. Your futures,’ said Nuru, staring at the bones. ‘Let’s just say that you should make the most of your time together as a great sadness will befall you before two years have passed.’
The couple looked at each other with a wish-we’d-never-asked expression on their faces. They waited for him to expand on his doom-laden statement but he remained silent.
‘What great sadness? What’s going to happen?’ said Declan, clasping Cara’s tense hand.
Nuru sighed. ‘I can’t give you details. The bones won’t allow me to. Look for signs nearer the time.’
‘Do the bones ever let you disclose details?’ said Cara. ‘Would they allow it if we paid you more? We need to know what you’ve seen in Declan’s future.’
Nuru shook his head. ‘More money will make no difference, but I sense it’ll be a health problem.’
‘This is why I avoid fortune-tellers,’ Cara muttered to Declan, who looked worried.
‘Now. Let’s move on to your wife,’ said Nuru, licking his lips as though she was his favourite snack.
‘Let’s go,’ Cara whispered. ‘This was a terrible idea.’
Before Declan could reply, the fortune teller scooped up the bones and scattered them across the floor. His reaction to their message was different to his response to Declan’s forecast. Nuru crouched lower, pouring over the bones, grunting and muttering with growing excitement.
‘Oh… The bones fell like this only once before, about two months ago when I read them for Elke, a German beauty of about your age. I visit her in her dreams.’ He smiled wistfully, as if remembering his last visit. Snapping out of his reverie, he said to Cara, ‘You look so much like her. I have only one piece of advice to give you for an uncomplicated life.’
‘What is it?’ said Cara, eyes wide. ‘Please, tell me.’
Nuru sighed. ‘I was just about to. Never cut your hair. If you do, you’ll be a magnet for any sexual predators in your vicinity. You’ll be unable to object to becoming their plaything. Elke, the German woman I mentioned, deeply regrets ignoring my advice. She shaved off all her pretty hair and has had more sex with random men in the last two months than in all her thirty-nine years. Elke just can’t say no.’
‘Silly Elke,’ squawked the crow as the pans began to clatter again behind the beaded curtain.
Lucky Elke more like, thought Cara. Copious sex isn’t something I’d avoid. She muttered in Declan’s ear, ‘I’ve heard enough of this bullshit.’ She stood up and raced for the exit.
‘Sorry for my wife’s outburst. What you said has upset her,’ said Declan, intending to follow her.
‘You should both be upset with futures like yours,’ muttered Nuru as the couple disappeared. ‘See you in your dreams, sexy Cara.’
‘Sexy Cara. Sexy Cara,’ squawked the one-legged crow, its beady eyes trained on the couple’s backs as they fled.
Once alone, Nuru tipped the strands of pubic hairs out of Davu’s dish into a jar. ‘I’ll make the spell after lunch,’ he said to the crow, who squawked his approval. ‘Making Cara come has made me horny.’
‘Me, too, master,’ said Davu.
‘Wish I could’ve seen up her skirt, too,’ squawked Bobo from his perch.
‘Your turn will come,’ said Nuru, walking through the beaded curtain into his kitchen area. ‘There’s time for some fun before we eat, Elke, my sexy German strumpet.’
‘Sexy German strumpet. Sexy German strumpet,’ squawked both crows as they flew onto the shelf above an antiquated stove where a naked beauty stood stirring a pot of spicy stew.
Bobo landed on the countertop so he could reach her breasts. ‘Let me work on your nipples, Elke.’ Putting down the spoon, she felt tears well up as she cupped both breasts in her hands and offered them up to the crow. ‘Can’t believe she’ll soon be forty, master. Her breasts are still so pert. She looks at least ten years younger.’
Nuru stroked the buttocks of the shaven-headed nude as he watched Bobo tweak and lick her nipples until they were hard and erect. Elke turned her gorgeous, sad face to the wall as the crow’s tongue did its work.
Elke’s biggest regret was to ignore Nuru’s warning two months earlier to never cut her hair, but she’d had no choice. Her starring role as a cancer victim in a blockbuster film called for her to be bald. She could have opted to hide her hair under a skin-toned cap, but as a method actor, she’d wanted to experience what it felt like to be bald, hoping to enrich her performance.
The second her last golden lock hit the floor, two black feathers floated out of thin air into her lap, surprising her and the chatty hairdresser who’d shaved it off. There was a blinding blue flash of light. When Elke’s vision recovered, she was lying on a bed in a hot, gloomy, unfamiliar room.
‘Hello, Elke,’ said a loud, deep voice. ‘I’m Nuru. I see you recognise me from when you visited my house in the Congo with your film crew. I’m sure you recall how I took a real shine to you.’
She trembled from head to toe, remembering how he’d stared at her that day. ‘I can’t be in Africa, can I? It’s not possible.’
‘Says who?’ said Nuru. ‘You are indeed in Africa. Do you remember me warning you never to cut your hair and what would happen to you if you did?’
‘I thought it was just some nonsense you said to amuse tourists.’
‘You couldn’t be more wrong,’ he said. ‘Get off the bed and remove your clothes.’
She scowled at him. ‘I’ll do no such thing.’
He grinned smugly as if he knew what was about to happen. Aghast, Elke found herself standing by the bed, looking down in horror as her fingers unzipped her skirt and unbuttoned her blouse as though her body had a mind of its own. Too scared and confused to say a word, she used all her strength trying to prevent the inevitable. Soon, she was as naked and trembling in front of him, eyeing his erection poking through his loin cloth as he admired her body. Her attempts to cover her breasts and pubic mound were futile.
‘Bend your knees… Deeper, so I can see your vagina… Very nice,’ he said, his hands roaming between her legs.
His long wild hair tickled her inner thighs as he bent close to examine her vulva. Her thighs juddered as she strained to close them, but they remained akimbo as he pulled back her labia and agitated her clitoris with his middle finger. ‘Juicy and very responsive, but can be improved. Lie back on the bed, knees wide.’
Standing, he clapped his hands together, making her jump. Two massive crows swooped in through an open window and settled between her splayed thighs, cawing and squawking appreciatively. Elke screamed as their surprisingly long tongues shot out between their dangerous-looking beaks and licked her vulva.
‘Quiet!’ bellowed Nuru. ‘Nobody wants to hear your caterwauling. My crows will each give you a clitoral orgasm with their tongues… I see you’ve never felt anything like it… It feels good, yes? … Good work, Bobo… Your turn, Davu… Yes! You squirted a little, Elke.’
‘Once we’ve fine-tuned her, she’ll gush like a leaky drain, master,’ said Bobo.
By the time the crows’ beaks had finished tweaking them, Elke’s nipples had never been so hard and erect. After sucking each one, Nuru said. ‘Boys, check I don’t get sloppy seconds when I lick her pussy.’
When Bobo’s beak slid inside her and stretched her vagina wide, Elke tried to scream but nothing came out. Davu hopped closer, slid his sleek head into her vagina, and peered inside. She felt the strangest sensation as his turbo-charged tongue flicked around inside her, accompanied by an occasional suction sound.
Davu slid his head out of the trembling film star. ‘There was a small amount of semen in there, master, but she’s clean now. I’ve primed her pussy to perfection for you.’
Though having sex with Nuru was terrifying and against her will, Elke had to admit it was the best she’d ever had, despite his penis being the longest and chunkiest she’d ever encountered. Through his magic, it fitted her vagina exactly. As he rode her, or she rode him, she realised the crows had done something to her insides as well as improving her nipples. They stayed erect and had never felt more sensitive.
Once their master was satisfied and had released his semen inside her, the crows repeated the cleaning process.
‘Put on your clothes,’ said Nuru, tying his loin cloth around himself. Once she’d dressed, he added, ‘Farewell until next time, Elke.’
There was a flash of blinding blue light and she found herself back in the hair salon. The girl who’d shaved off Elke’s hair hadn’t even noticed her client had disappeared, although she wondered why the woman was drenched in sweat. ‘Wow! Did you see that? Are you okay?’
Thinking it wiser not to mention what she’d just endured, the shaven-headed actress forced a smile and tried to calm down. ‘Yeah. It was weird. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.’ She paid the hairdresser for shaving her head and ruining her life then hurried out of the salon.
Nuru stole part of her soul that day, claiming her as his sex slave for as long as she held his interest. Elke wondered if she’d ever again be able to say no to anybody who wanted sex with her. As a strong willed woman who enjoyed all the perks of being a famous actress, she’d always called the shots when it came to sex.
Now she was back in Germany, it became increasingly difficult to continue with her acting career. Every so often, there’d be a flash of light and she’d find herself on Nuru’s bed where she’d receive the usual invasive treatment from the crows before their master ravished her. It was bad enough cooking and cleaning for him, but having sex with him in Africa and random sex fiends in Germany, was rapidly destroying her mind. Whenever Nuru was done with her, the crows sucked his semen out of her and she’d be whisked back to Germany in a flash. At home, more men would usually be waiting to sexually abuse her. Nuru distorted time, so they were barely aware she’d even disappeared.
Since losing her hair, random men of all ages and varying levels of attractiveness kept cropping up in her life expecting to have sex with her.
The day of Cara and Declan’s visit had been the sixth time Elke had found herself in Africa. She’d been Nuru and his crows’ plaything for three days. When Nuru summoned her, she’d been in her bath, so was wet and naked when she’d found herself on his bed. They’d had sex for most of the three days, yet he’d still demanded more. His libido was inexhaustible, making her suspect his sexual energy also came from supernatural sources.
‘Stop cooking our food,’ said Nuru. ‘Satisfy me instead.’
Sex with the man who controlled her life was the last thing the bald film star wanted but she felt her lips move and heard her voice say, ‘Yes, master,’ as always happened.
He pulled off his loincloth with pride. ‘Look how hard the blonde British woman has made me. Rid me of it before we eat. Wrap your mouth around it as an appetiser.’
Glancing down at his prodigious erection, Elke sighed and obediently turned off the heat under the saucepan and knelt on the dirt floor. She opened her mouth wide, gagging as he pushed his stiff shaft down her throat.
Just when she thought she’d suffocate, he tapped her on the top of her bald head. ‘Stop sucking. I want to save my seed for this,’ he said, sliding two fingers into her vagina. He jabbed it hard and fast until she came, then licked his digits clean. ‘Wait in the bedroom. I’ll join you shortly. I need to cast an urgent spell for someone first.’
‘Yes, master,’ she said, in the depths of despair.
When Nuru had done with her, she knew he’d be returning her to Germany where she was due to meet her landlord in her bedroom that evening for their usual Thursday sexual encounter. Lying on Nuru’s large ricketty bed, she shuddered to imagine what her vile landlord would put her through, but first, there was sex with scary Nuru to contend with. She heard him chanting in the main room and smelled something acrid burning as he performed his magic.
His stifling hot, basic bedroom was a gloomy symphony of browns. The only colour was the stuffed head of a snarling tiger on top of an ancient cupboard. Its glass eyes stared down at Elke in such a knowing way, she wondered if it had something to do with Nuru’s power because he always muttered in its ear before having sex with her.
There was a flutter of wings and the two crows flew either side of her. They nibbled and shaped her large nipples with their beaks and tongues until they were erect, ultrasensitive pinnacles.
‘Assume the position so we can check there’s no semen inside you,’ squawked Bobo, hopping between her spread legs with his companion.
Elke cringed with embarrassment whenever the crows made her pull her knees level with her ears so they could examine her. I’ll never find this process normal, she thought. They’re more like humans than birds. Bobo’s beak opened wide inside her vagina, stretching it so Davu could insert his head and check its interior walls.
These evil birds love to control me, she thought, wincing as Davu’s tongue licked around inside her. When they were men, I bet they were sexual sadists. Nuru gets a perverted kick from watching them do this to me and his other women.
She recalled the second time Nuru had transported her at lightning speed to Africa. ‘Please, let me stretch myself this time so you can check, master,’ she’d said as she’d laid naked and spreadeagled on his bed. ‘I have a phobia of birds.’
Indignant, Bobo had gripped her labia so hard with his beak that she’d shrieked to be released. ‘Stop crying,’ said Davu. ‘We do this to all our master’s women before he enjoys them. Get used to it.’
Nuru entered the room, naked and erect, and whispered into the stuffed tiger’s ear before sitting on the bed next to her. Elke was two months into her Nuru experience and her terror was almost as acute as her first time on his bed. She had a love-hate relationship with the crows’ tongues. Never having seen one before, she’d been surprised and repulsed by their length and how cold and tickly they’d felt on her most sensitive parts. Nuru’s dark powers constantly amazed and terrified her. His magic could transform his crows’ tongues into mechanisms that gave intense pleasure, suck out unwanted bodily fluids, then perfect the look and sensitivity of a woman’s sexual parts.
‘You know the drill,’ said Bobo. ‘It’s orgasm time, so pop your clitty out for us. And stop looking so miserable.’ Using her fingers, Elke spread her labia to expose her clitoris, bracing herself for a guaranteed orgasm. The intense sensation of his tongue vibrating at supersonic speed on her most sensitive part was both frightening and breathtakingly wonderful. A type of heavenly hell.
When Bobo accidentally nipped her vulva with his thick beak, she cried out and instinctively slammed her thighs together, making both crows fly into the air.
‘We’ll bite off your nipples if you don’t open your legs again,’ said Davu after they’d settled at the end of the bed.
Nuru glared at her, slowly masturbating as he sat naked on the edge of the bed. ‘Bobo and Davu will sulk if they don’t each give you an orgasm before I fuck you. You should be grateful for their skills. Watching them wank you makes me hard. Show them your clit at once.’
Dying inside a little more, Elke pulled back her knees and exposed her clitoris with her fingers. The creepy birds took turns licking her glistening nub. Their tongues’ exquisite vibrations were more effective than any vibrator she’d ever used. That day was no exception.
Recovering from another string of earth-shattering orgasms, Elke passed her hand over her shaved head where long, wavy blonde hair had once grown. Now that she was Nuru’s plaything for part of her life, he insisted on shaving her head and pubic area so she’d continue to be controlled by him, the two crows, and all the predatory males who now crawled out of the woodwork in Germany. Despite Nuru living on another continent, he’d somehow ensured there was a constant flow of predators. His dark magic knew no bounds.
Nuru handed Elke a golden vibrator. ‘Bobo stole this from a hotel bedroom this morning. Make yourself come while my crows rest… Press it hard… Good… Harder… Come for me, Elke.’
‘And for us,’ said the crows in unison.
Those two bastards act more like humans than birds, she thought as her climax built. They behaved so lustfully towards her, she guessed they must once have been extremely rampant men who Nuru had transformed into crows for reasons she didn’t know. Her orgasm was almost as explosive as those the crows’ tongues produced. Bobo took the vibrator from her as his master crawled between her legs.
Elke avoided Nuru’s dark eyes as he rubbed the end of his supersized penis against her tumescent clitoris. When he pushed deep inside her, she gasped as her vagina magically expanded until he fitted her perfectly. It usually took at least two hours and a myriad of positions for him to be satisfied.
Collapsing onto her full breasts, Nuru found enough breath to say, ‘That was a strong eight. One day, you’ll learn to smile and will be a ten. Fully apply the skills I’m teaching you and don’t hold back. You may now return to your life in Frankfurt with my blessing. I’ll transport you back here in a week or two, so look out for my black feather signal. Don’t let the men you fuck in Germany mark or disfigure you. You’d be no use to me. A woman’s beauty is my greatest aphrodisiac. As part of my spell, I’ve ensured your sexual energy will be boundless for every sexual encounter. The men won’t ever be able to tire you out so much that you’d be useless to me.’
‘Yes, master,’ she muttered. Those weren’t the most politically correct words I’ve ever heard, she thought. Nothing in my life is politically correct nowadays. The misogyny I endure is sickening. How will I pay the bills now I’m being ravished almost every day and night? There’s hardly time to sleep, let alone carry on with my acting career.
The room lit up with a burst of blinding blue light, as always happened whenever Nuru sent her to and from his African home. The next second, Elke found herself naked in her bath in Frankfurt. The water was still hot, proving to her that time had stood still while she’d been with Nuru in Africa.
With her mind in turmoil, she lay in the soothing water, trying to compose her dark, scattered thoughts. It wouldn’t be long before her seedy landlord would be ringing her doorbell, gagging for sex. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought a black feather fluttered to the ground but realised it was just another hallucination. Her dread of seeing black feathers summoning her back to Africa and Nuru’s control, tormented her even while she slept.
Her life unravelled more as time went on and more predatory males appeared, just as the fortune teller had predicted. Elke now knew Nuru hadn’t foretold her fate but was making it all happen after he put his cruel curse on her.
Washing Nuru’s smell from her skin, she sobbed before dragging herself out of the water. Once dry, she squeezed into the black satin crotchless peephole corset Everitt Schulze, her landlord, had given her on his previous visit. Three weeks previously, the short, obese, balding forty-eight-year-old computer nerd had agreed to let her live in the luxury apartment rent-free, so long as she entertained him in her bedroom every Thursday evening.
At the time, it seemed like a feasible idea because she was desperate for money. She’d been living well beyond her means after her cocaine addiction had spiralled out of control. Drugs had been freely available in the social whirl she lived in as an actress because of Julian, a man she’d been having an affair with for almost two years. The married, good-looking eccentric organised transport for several different studios, as well as feeding Elke’s growing cocaine habit. Their sexual liaisons were always fuelled by cocaine which he supplied. The drug turned her into a snarling beast in bed who felt no pain.
When Julian was fired six months before after his drug consumption grew uncontrollable, badly affecting his work, Elke was stuck with an addiction to drugs and a limited supply. She no longer saw Julian, so paid a small fortune each week just to feel vaguely normal and had little money left to pay her high rent. To make matters worse, her last two films had bombed, leaving her finances in a mess.
Everitt Schulze, her landlord, was an unattractive and demanding bore. Elke wanted to end their “little arrangement,” as he called it, after their first traumatic meeting in her bedroom. Every time she’d tried to say no to his sexual demands during that first ghastly Thursday evening, or broach the subject of him leaving her alone then and in the future, the words stuck in her throat. They refused to be said, as if Nuru had inserted an invisible mute button inside her.
She’d even tried texting Everitt while he was there to order him out of her flat and stay away, but no words appeared on the screen. Writing on paper with a biro, then a pencil, had the same bizarre result. Everitt had stared at her as though she was mad as she’d battled to communicate her wishes.
It wasn’t only her words that were being stolen. Her body rebelled against her, too. When she tried to close her legs or lash out at the brute to block his advances, nothing happened. Nuru was in her head, magically blocking all her negative responses to any sexual advance. Her body had become a sex machine controlled by Nuru in Africa and various men in Germany. She was powerless to revert to her former self and life when she’d had control of her life and body.
Women usually rejected Everitt, so he was ecstatic Elke let him do whatever he wanted with her body. He was perplexed by her scowling expression as he ran through his perverted sexual repertoire. On their first hook-up, he’d rubbed his podgy hands with glee when she’d allowed him to video each outrageous act, which was another first for him. It had become standard practice and he’d never asked her permission to film her from then on.
Everitt once even insisted on taking her to a local dogging site where he’d sodomised her on the bonnet of his car as a group of shady men watched, groping her in the worst ways. They were eager to film the action on their phones once they’d recognised Elke from her films. She returned home, exhausted and humiliated beyond endurance. Some men filmed themselves using beer bottles inside her before gang-raping her. But was I raped? she thought as her tears fell. I never said no. Not once. I couldn’t, but I can’t let them all get away with it.
After a fitful night’s sleep, Elke drove to the police station to report Everitt and the men at the dogging site. Sitting in the interview room trying to give her statement, she went crazy with frustration and embarrassment when her words wouldn’t come out. The policeman trying to record her statement looked at the bald actress as if she was insane as she sat on the other side of the table making guttural noises.
Fearing she’d be charged with wasting police time, Elke fled in tears. When she returned home, she was horrified to find Everitt had let himself in. He was with a tall, painfully thin, grey-haired stranger with a death mask face. Both were drunk and had tied tethers to her bed ready for her return.
‘But it’s not Thursday,’ she wailed, stripping naked as they’d asked.
As he and the stranger pulled off their clothes, Everitt shrugged. ‘So? I showed my drinking buddy, Jakob, your videos and, as you can see by his cock, he’s desperate to fuck you.’
‘Especially your gorgeous arse,’ said the man, pulling her closer and swivelling her around.
Knowing from experience that his glamorous lodger never refused his requests, although clueless what made her comply, Everitt added, ‘Bend over and touch your toes, sexy. Let my mate finger your pussy and arse.’
Jakob whispered in his ear, ‘She’ll never agree to that.’
Everitt tapped the side of his nose. ‘Want to bet?’
Elke choked trying in vain to scream, yet she bent over. The creepy stranger inserted his index finger deep into her rectum, his middle finger into her vagina and wiggled them. ‘There are a few things I want to do before I fuck your arse, though. I saw you gush in some of your videos. I’ve always wanted to make a woman do that.’
While buzzing a vibrator on her nipples, Everitt filmed Jakob fingering the film star’s vagina so hard, it wasn’t long before she groaned and showered her ejaculate up her rapturous abuser’s arm. ‘Lie down and roll backwards. We’re going to tie your ankles to the top of the bed so Jakob can fuck your arse.’
It was while weird Jakob jabbed his tongue deep into her rectum that Elke felt almost relieved to see a black feather land on her pillow. A flash of blue light illuminated the room and she found herself naked on Nuru’s bed in Africa, her ankles behind her ears, just as they’d been in her bedroom. He and the crows made good use of her being in that position before returning her to Germany, where Jakob continued to tongue her rectum after his eyes had recovered from the blinding blue light. It was another long night for Elke.
Much to Elke’s horror, Jakob, the Nosferatu lookalike, had accompanied Everitt to her apartment ever since their first meeting three weeks before. She poured herself a triple vodka, hoping it would loosen her up enough not to be too repulsed by them.
While staring at her perfect reflection in her mirror to apply the tarty makeup they insisted she wore, Elke expected to see her long blonde hair. It still came as a shock to see her bald scalp. Reaching for the blonde wig Everitt had given her, she attached it securely to her scalp as he’d demanded.
He and Jakob had been angry with her during their liaison on the previous Thursday when it had fallen off while the two friends had pounded her rectum on her bedroom carpet. Her punishment had been to be spanked as she lay whimpering across their knees. Whoever hadn’t been spanking her at the time had filmed her humiliation. Each man had hundreds of videos of their time with her. She feared the explicit material, and the videos from the dogging experience, would be uploaded onto the internet; it would ruin her life as well as her film career even more if that was possible. She believed both were already as good as over.
Though Everitt was clueless why his beautiful tenant couldn’t resist his demands, Elke knew he suspected that she couldn’t prevent him or other men from doing whatever they fancied to her. There’s nothing to stop him or anyone else, male or female, pimping me out, she thought. I couldn’t refuse, thanks to bloody Nuru.
A loud knocking on her front door made her heart race. After putting on her five-inch stilettos and checking her reflection in her full-length mirror to ensure her nipples were erect enough for Everitt and Jakob’s liking, she peered through the spyhole in the door.
Expecting to see her landlord and Jakob, she was shocked to see Everitt with two seedy men in their fifties. The taller bespectacled man carried a bottle of cheap wine and the shorter, scrawnier, hook-nosed Asian gripped a holdall.
She’d seen the two men in her local Biergarten over a year before she’d shaved her hair off. Back then, she’d been at the height of her film career, well before Nuru entered her life. On that evening, she’d been on her third date with her fitness instructor and had been looking forward to spending a passionate night with him.
The two starstruck men had approached the couple and asked Elke for an autograph. As they’d looked uncouth, ignorant, and unwashed, she’d turned away and carried on talking to her hunky date. Normally, she wouldn’t have remembered the two men but the Asian had made lewd remarks at her as he and his ugly friend were leaving the Biergarten.
The same unsavoury men were now on her doorstep. Panicking, Elke put on her silky dressing gown over her revealing corset, opened the door a crack, and muttered, ‘What do you want?’
‘What do you think we want, sexy?’ said her landlord. ‘We’re feeling horny, so let us in.’
Heart pounding, she tried to slam the door in their faces, but, instead, she found herself opening it wide for them. Her expression was far from welcoming.
‘Lead the way to where the magic happens, Elke,’ said Everitt. Once they were all inside her spacious bedroom, the two strangers put down what they’d been carrying and looked her up and down appreciatively. ‘Elke, this four-eyed beanpole is Finn and this short-arse is Abdul. Lose the robe. Let’s see the peephole corset I told you to wear.’
Helpless, she watched the trio remove their jackets and sit on her bed. As she feared, her treacherous body began to act on autopilot. Battling against the force within her that was trying to make her remove the robe entirely, she managed to just lower it off her shoulders. Looking down, she groaned to see her nipples poking through her corset. Ever since the crows had worked on them, her chocolate-coloured nipples were permanently erect and ultrasensitive.
‘Mmm,’ said Finn. ‘Ich liebe deine grossen titten. Huge nipples. You must’ve been playing with them for them to be sticking out like this. Lick them for us.’
As Everitt filmed her, he said, ‘I wonder how many wealthy movie moguls have spunked all over these beauties. I bet casting couch shenanigans still goes on, eh, Elke?’
Abdul adjusted his bulging trousers as he watched Everitt grab her right breast with his free hand to suck and nibble her nipple. ‘Mate, I’d do far more than spunk on her tits, famous film star or not.’
Everitt removed his fleshy lips from Elke’s nipple. ‘Hand me your robe. Let’s see the rest of you.’
Her hands released their grip on the material. It slipped to the carpet, leaving her almost naked in front of them. Her hands felt glued to her sides, preventing her from shielding her usually private parts from their gaze. All her attempts to run downstairs, turn away, or bend to hide proved useless. She no longer had the energy to stop struggling.
‘Hottest woman I’ve ever seen,’ said Finn, who’d not had sex for over fifteen years due to his creepy appearance and awkward manner.
‘Never thought I’d have a sexy celebrity’s pussy within licking distance,’ said Abdul.
Turning to Elke’s landlord, Finn whispered, ‘Why not put your theory about her to the test like you said you would?’
‘Okay,’ said Everitt. ‘I can’t promise anything but it’s all going perfectly so far.’
‘Apart from her expression,’ said Finn. ‘If looks could kill, we’d be dead.’
Everitt shrugged. ‘She always looks livid when we hook up, yet she still does anything I ask with no bother at all. She’ll fuck both of you, too, trust me. She even lets Jakob and me fuck her arse, so can’t see her refusing to do whatever you fancy.’
‘Let’s do it before my balls burst,’ said Abdul.
Finn was mesmerised. ‘Can’t believe she obeyed you to the letter, despite her expression. Smile, Elke. No? Suit yourself. Why won’t you chat with us? Are we beneath you?’
Abdul sighed loudly. ‘Chat? Blow chatting. I didn’t sneak out of the house behind my wife’s back to bloody chat. Come on, Elke. Show us your clit.’
‘And do it in a really dirty way,’ added Everitt. ‘Do it how you show me.’
‘She’ll never agree to that,’ said Finn. ‘You’ve already fucked her, Everitt, so she’s okay with pleasing you. She doesn’t know me and Finn from Adam. Elke Klaus never even gave us her autograph when we first met her. She’s famous, don’t forget.’ He took out his phone to video her, just in case he was wrong.
‘I’m sure she’ll do it,’ said Everitt, phone poised.
Elke’s mouth was bone dry as her long shapely legs walked the rest of her breathtaking body over to where Abdul sat. She was so close, his breath wafted across her labia. Her limbs were as mutinous as ever. The two other men steadied her as her stiletto-clad foot raised itself onto the bed. Six pairs of hungry eyes watched her wobble as she turned her knee out, battling to gain control of all her fingers resting on her labia.
‘No… Please, don’t make me do it, Nuru,’ she muttered.
‘Who is Nuru?’ said Everitt, pushing his phone closer to her hands.
Elke despaired as her knees bent and her hips thrust towards the men. She chewed her bottom lip as her fingers pulled back her labia and displayed her clitoris. She felt their hot breath waft across her vulva as her pelvis rocked suggestively back and forth, increasing in speed.
‘She’s begging for it,’ said Finn. ‘Looks like she’s dry-humping a ghost.’
Abdul leaned forward for a closer look. ‘There’s nothing dry about that humping. Biggest clit I’ve ever seen. Looks like it’s had plenty of rubbing. So swollen… Which of your leading men wanked this beauty in between takes, Fraulein Klaus? Never mind them. I’m dying to wank it, so now it’s my turn.’
Expecting her to knock his hand away, Abdul stretched out two fingers and rubbed her clitoris hard and fast as the other men filmed him. Elke knew all was lost. They now know I’m powerless to stop them from doing whatever they want, she thought shortly before her buttocks clenched and her orgasm erupted.
‘When I woke up today, never thought I’d be making the star of Return from Baden-Baden come,’ said Abdul. ‘Look… She’s even squirted on my trousers. I’ll never clean them again. If I wasn’t married, I’d frame them and hang them on my wall.’
Realising how much power they had over her lit up their imaginations. Abdul took a large electric wand vibrator from his holdall and plugged it into a wall socket while Finn licked and rubbed her clitoris. Everitt flicked the clothes pegs he’d attached to her nipples with one hand as he documented everything on his phone with the other.
‘Mein Gott! What a view,’ said Finn, zooming his phone in for a close-up. ‘Can I fingerbang you? I used to be a bit of an expert at it.’
‘N..N… N… Yes!’ she shrieked, panting from the exertion of battling to refuse their demands.
‘Impressed a famous star like you has such a tight, wet pussy,’ said Finn, giving her vagina the two fingers treatment. Her buttocks and jaw clenched as another climax built. When a jet of her ejaculate arced through the air, Everitt and Abdul cheered as if Germany had scored a goal in the final minute, and Finn groaned as his semen soaked into his boxer shorts.
Elke lost count of how many orgasms the unsavoury trio gave her with their fingers, tongues and the wand before they decided it was their turn for some sexual release. It’s going to be another long, terrible night, she thought, sneering as they removed their scruffy, unfashionable clothes from their underwhelming bodies. They filmed her stripping naked except for her stockings and heels, before she responded to Abdul’s order to bend over so they could take turns to lick and finger her anus.
Twisting his fingers as he jabbed her rectum, Everitt said, ‘With all these videos, even if you stop obeying us for some unknown reason, you’ll still do whatever we want. Your fans would be shocked to see social media posts of you letting me finger your arse like this, and all the other filthy things you’ve done today.’
‘And we’ve only just begun,’ said Abdul. ‘Get on the bed. We’re going to fuck you bandy-legged.’
The rampant trio squabbled over whether to use condoms or not and who’d be first to have what appeared to be consensual sex with the film star. Elke lay spreadeagled on her bed, blonde wig askew, waiting to be devoured by the pack of wolves. Not for the first time, she wanted nothing more than to die. But suicide wasn’t an option. She’d already tried various methods to kill herself in the months since Nuru had taken control of her life. Somehow, he managed to thwart her attempts to escape her endless torment. The previous week, her third attempt to throw herself off the Hindenberg bridge had failed. Every time she’d tried to fling herself off it, her feet had remained rooted to the spot. All she could do was pray her life would pass quickly.
3. Portents Of Doom
‘What a bloody nightmare!’ said Cara, fleeing along the muddy path under the dripping trees.
Declan eventually caught up with her and grabbed her arm to slow her down. ‘Sorry for dragging you into such a weird situation. It wasn’t quite how I’d imagined fortune telling would be. Thought it’d be a bit of lighthearted fun.’
She glared at him. ‘It was anything but. Did you see his stonking hard-on when he was talking about Elke, the German woman?’
‘Couldn’t miss it under that loincloth,’ he said. ‘Impressive for a man of his age. Even bigger than mine, I reckon.’
She started walking faster again, just to put more distance between them and Nuru. ‘What a disgusting creep. He wasn’t that old. In his fifties, I reckon. What was all that crap he spouted about me not cutting my hair?’
‘No idea. The guy was a bit crazy.’
‘A bit? Let’s go back to the hotel. Everything about Nuru and his crows has spooked me out. All that weirdo did was worry us.’
There was a crash of thunder and the rain pelted down harder. Although worried about Nuru’s peculiar predictions, Declan tried to make light of them. He knew that if he didn’t calm his wife down, the rest of the day would be dismal. Cara’s mother was a deeply superstitious woman and it had rubbed off on her daughter. He regretted pandering to his morbid curiosity by visiting the fortune teller and wished he’d stayed well away from him.
He placed a comforting arm around his wife’s shoulder. ‘His predictions were just nonsense to impress the tourists. Forget him.’
‘She shrugged off his arm. ‘It felt like he put a curse on us rather than tell our fortunes.’
Despite having similar concerns, Declan kept quiet, not wanting to add fuel to his wife’s unease. Their love was strong and had rarely been put to the test, but he sensed their relationship would need to be watertight to get through what might lie ahead of them, according to Nuru.
On reaching the hotel, they rushed to the bar and ordered tall glasses of rum and ginger beer. They sipped them slowly, too deep in their private thoughts to talk. The alcohol eased their tension and they enjoyed their evening meal at a local restaurant, despite being unable to identify some ingredients in the dishes.
That night, Cara couldn’t sleep as she lay in bed with Declan’s arm draped around her waist as he slept. It wasn’t only his snores that kept her awake. Her insomnia was mainly because of Nuru’s puzzling words about some unspecified unhappiness coming their way in the next two years. Even odder was his warning that she’d become a man-magnet if she ever cut her hair. I’d better cancel next week’s hair appointment, she thought. Mustn’t tempt fate. I feel unbelievably horny, too. Can’t think why. Felt like this ever since I creamed my thong in Nuru’s house. Odd. Declan didn’t know what hit him when we got into bed, but I’m still horny as fuck. Not wanting to wake her husband, she was forced to masturbate with her fingers until she eventually fell asleep.
Two days later, they were glad to fly back to Gatwick, pick up their Jeep from the long-stay car park, and drive back to the much-missed luxury of their enviable property near The Pantiles in Tunbridge Wells.
The car wound its way up the long pathway and pulled up on the gravel courtyard in front of their three-storey house.
Cara stared at the lawn. ‘That’s odd. I’ve never seen so many crows before. Must be a dozens of them. Reminds me of that freak’s gruesome pets, Bilbo and Davros.’
‘Don’t think they were called that,’ said Declan.
Cara shrugged. ‘Who cares? It was something like that. What are we going to do about all those birds? It’s like a scene out of that Hitchcock film.’
‘I’ll soon put paid to them,’ he said, shattering the peace with a long blast of the car horn which launched the crows skyward.
‘Epic fail,’ she said, watching the crows swoop back onto the lawn, defying the couple with their beady eyes. ‘I don’t like it, Dec. They’re creeping me out, especially that big one. It’s waggling its tongue at me.’
Declan chuckled. ‘Your eyesight’s better than mine. I can’t see its tongue but I doubt it’s waggling. Let’s go indoors. You must be overtired after the long flight and all the sex we’ve had in the past couple of days. Not sure what’s got into you but I’m not complaining.’
‘This’ll sound weird, but you don’t think that Nuru guy did something to supercharge my libido, do you?’
Declan heaved the suitcases out of the Jeep. ‘Love you to pieces, but don’t go all doom and gloom on me again.’ Looking up, he realised he’d been talking to himself; his wife had run into the house to avoid the crows.
The next year passed with no great drama and more sex than was usual for the couple due to Cara’s mysterious lust. They became used to the crows strutting around on the lawn as if they owned it, and gave up trying to disperse them because the inky birds always returned to gloat. Being active supporters of two animal charities, they dismissed the urge to kill their unwanted guests. Cara eventually gave up telling her hard-working husband about the birds’ habit of sticking their tongues out at her.
After Nuru’s threat about what would happen to her if she cut her hair, Cara avoided hair salons. She was delighted with the result. Her hair now hung in rippling blonde waves to the middle of her back and earned her many compliments from Declan and the various men they invited into their bedroom. A well-hung black rap artist who they’d met online made good use of her hair when she’d worn it up in bunches. He’d used them like reins, riding her from behind while Declan sat masturbating on the chaise longue next to the bed.
Since their African trip, Cara’s nights were often disturbed by nightmares involving Nuru and the crows. She’d become a light sleeper despite the vigorous sex the couple enjoyed most nights, either as a couple or as a threesome, with Declan sitting close by in his voyeur role. Their sex life had blossomed ever since adopting a swinging lifestyle a few years earlier and was off the scale after the trip to Africa.
Three days before Christmas, Declan coughed up blood in the sink of their ensuite bathroom. Not wanting to keep his wife awake with his relentless coughing and spluttering, he’d spent a sleepless night in one of the guest bedrooms. He kept the worrying incident to himself, partly not to spoil Cara’s festive fun, and partly out of fear. He hoped it was a one-off and nothing to worry about. Like many men, he avoided going to the doctor if he could.
After coughing up blood at least once a day for over two weeks, he couldn’t put off telling Cara. Naturally, she immediately booked him an urgent appointment with their GP. By the time his lung cancer was diagnosed, it was too advanced to cure. The couple experienced so many negative emotions, they were stunned into living a half-existence as medicine did its best to destroy the virulent disease. Although she was angry with him for keeping the signs of his illness to himself, Cara never voiced it because Declan was becoming increasingly frail.
The cancer diagnosis took all the fun out of their raunchy meetings with various men, so they ceased. They’d also stopped attending their favourite sex clubs to focus on Declan’s treatment, which proved ineffective. His decline was so swift and merciless, Cara struggled to keep up with events. Summer had already slid into Autumn when Declan breathed his last. Before she could realise it, she was a widow.
She wanted to punch everyone in the face who looked at her with sympathetic eyes and told her, ‘It’s a blessing he didn’t suffer too long,’ or, even worse, ‘He’s gone to a better place.’
She wanted to scream at them, ‘But I wanted to grow old disgracefully with Declan. These married years were not enough. His place is here, with me, not festering in some poxy grave.’
Cara sleepwalked through the funeral. It was attended by famous people from every section of the film world due to the impact the well-respected director had made on it. Once he was buried, a tsunami of exhaustion hit his widow, so she hid away from the world to try to come to terms with her grief. Though grateful for all the messages of sympathy she received, Cara wished everyone would leave her alone. She ached to still be with Declan, unable to believe he’d gone forever, despite having seen him being planted in the ground. As an only child, she had no siblings for emotional support. Her number of friends had dwindled because she’d rarely been in the country due to accompanying Declan on worldwide trips while he’d worked on films.
Sensing she was heading into a deep depression, Cara planned to spend a month in Donegal with her mother and Sorcha’s new man, Sean Malloy. At sixty-two, the short, barrel-chested, bombastic businessman was five years younger than sweet-natured Sorcha. When Cara had driven up to her mother’s modest bungalow, she was surprised to see Sean was living there with her. Though they’d never met before, he’d made her feel uncomfortable, flinging his arms around her and squeezing her like a long-lost lover.
The grieving widow was surprised how obnoxious her mother’s new man was, yet Sorcha seemed besotted with the balding, overbearing bore, despite his fondness for whisky. When inebriated, Sean couldn’t keep his opinions or his hands to himself, so Cara decided to cut short her visit to Donegal. His inappropriate flirtatious remarks when Sorcha was out of earshot were too much to stomach.
While Sorcha was in the kitchen making drinks, tipsy Sean put his hand on Cara’s thigh. It was a step too far and Cara had her bags packed in an instant. Making up an excuse her mother would believe, Cara headed back to The Pantiles. She’d given Sean a flea in his ear before leaving and had even considered telling her mother what he’d done. Cara gave him the benefit of the doubt as he’d drunk so many whiskies that evening.
Over the following months, as her energy gradually increased, a snarling rage reared up inside her over Declan’s cruel death. A strange and unexpected by-product of her fury was that her anger kickstarted her libido. Her sex drive became stronger and more insistent than ever. With nothing to fill her time now she was alone, and with a reckless, rebellious deathwish springing up from nowhere, Cara decided to use internet dating sites for the sex she craved.
She had no career to throw herself into to try to mask her grief. Declan had wanted her to be with him as much as possible during their marriage, so she’d quit modelling and travelled the world with him while he worked on various film projects. When he wasn’t working, they’d enjoyed life together at home or walking into the upmarket Pantile area of Tunbridge Wells in Kent. Cara’s mother always called it Royal Tunbridge Wells, which is its proper title, revelling in the fact her precious daughter lived in such a grand place. Sorcha hadn’t seen any of the rundown areas of the town but had loved visiting Cara and Declan’s home where they spoiled her with fancy restaurant meals, theatre visits, and trips to London’s landmarks.
When the first wave of grief had diminished enough for Cara to contemplate her future without Declan, she’d toyed with the idea of buying a designer clothes shop to occupy her time, but something more urgent needed her attention; her nagging libido. The best part of their marriage had been their active and adventurous sex life. She knew Declan would want her to continue enjoying sensual pleasures, especially as he liked sharing her with other men. They’d been confident enough in the strength of their marriage for him never to feel jealous when his wife came on another man’s tongue.
Cara started meeting men solely for sex less than a year after Declan’s death. It had been a terrible strain for her to have lasted that long without unleashing her inner sex fiend. Meeting oversexed young men had always been incredibly easy for her. Her profile was already on numerous internet sex sites from when she and Declan had searched for attractive random men with whom she could have sex. Buff_Destroyer512 will be my fiftieth hook-up this year, she thought, gazing at his handsome face in his profile photo on her laptop.
Several men had told her she must be mad for letting them into her house rather than meet them in a public place. They’d usually add, ‘I could’ve been an axe murderer or something.’
Her stock reply was, ‘So could I.’
She’d often think, Fools. Don’t they realise I have a death wish after losing Declan? I wonder what caused their death wish? Have they lost someone they loved, too? When a man left her house after sex, she’d feel almost as lonely as the day Declan died. She was on a relentless treadmill, replacing one man with another. Some men she saw several times, but because of their age difference, they’d eventually ghost her after finding a woman closer to their age, or because they’d moved on to experiment with another mature woman or man. Cara also had no qualms over telling a man she didn’t want to meet him again.
When it came to Buff_Destroyer512, she wondered, Who’ll ghost who after tonight’s hook-up, him or me?