Not quite a Honeymoon 15

Amy managed to open the door of the cellar without a sound. She was greeted by the faint buzzing of the massage belt and a specific fragrance was hanging in the air. Isabelle hung from the ceiling, fixed to the ladder like she had left her, only the sweat on her body seemed to have become more.

Isabelle, tortured by the rheumatic ointment on her buttocks and crotch and with the vibrating pad pressed against her pubic mound, had fought to resist the urge to grind her middle against the pad for as long as she could, but finally, she had throbbed over the buzzing surface, trying to find relief.

It had been a blessing in disguise. The ointment had worn off and she had found a little easement from the itching, but the constant massage and the wriggling of her hips had caused other feelings. Again, Isabelle had tried to oppress her desires, tried to remain strong and not to give in. But in the end, she was also just a human being with limited resources of power and so, she had continued to move her hips.

However, the massage was enough to stimulate and to irritate, but not to get her over the brink. Isabelle had become more energetic, had thrusted her womb forward and tried to move her hips in small circles, but it had just not been enough. Her clit and labia were swollen and wet, her whole middle was trembling and tingling, but she was still forced to endure hell without relief.

Amy silently wandered around her captive and could see the traces of Isabelle`s predicament. Her still reddened buttocks, the treacherous glistering on her pubic mound, the tension in her whole body. She smiled and removed the rubber straps from the ladder, positioning it back on all four feet again.

»Mhm? Uuhhmm?«

Isabelle squirmed a bit when she found herself in a more upright position. She rose her hooded head, trying to figure out if perhaps some rescuer – Mike! – had found her. Amy switched off the massage belt, then, she loosened two screws and removed the board it had been attached to. Now, Isabelle`s pubic area was available and due to her position, her body slightly hung forward.

»You missed me, didn`t you, Isabelle?«

Amy had taken the Martinet and playfully slapped Isabelle`s butt. The girl twitched and groaned and Amy reached between her legs, cupping her pubic mound.

»Nnnggg! Mmhhmmmph!«

Once again, Amy slapped her buttocks and she reflexively shied away, thus pressing her middle harder against Amy`s hand.

»My, my, so hot! Hot and wet!«

Her fingers tightened and loosened the grip; then, another slap followed, just hard enough it caused a little pain. Amy adjusted her hand so her thumb rested on Isabelle`s clit. Then, she repeated the game of massaging her with her other fingers whilst she continued the playful spanking.

Isabelle did not give in easily. She squirmed in her bonds, bit down hard on her gag to resist the wave of irritating stimulations and tried to focus on almost everything to distract her from the pictures that began to develop in front of her inner eye.

»I have gone through so much, and never have I ever let them conquer that last barrier!«

Indeed, she had sometimes been left in situations not only meant to torture her, but also to tease, but she had always managed to keep her arousal under control. When a few months ago, she had ended up bound and gagged, mummified and packed inside a car`s trunk, her kidnappers had forced a double dose of an aphrodisiac on her that she had not been able to ignore; but the final, relieving climax had been caused by Mike, after he had rescued her.

However, it was one weakened and exhausted girl, a girl that had already been irritated by a prolonged massage, against the assault of a woman that combined meanness and expertise. Amy`s light spanking sent tingles through her still sensitive rear, tingles that mixed with those in her womb, where it seemed that the blonde`s fingers were able to react to the slightest reaction. Her nipples, still clamped with clothespins, throbbed as they were hard and oversensitive. Amy, noticing that detail, too, bent forward and plucked one of the clothespins from her nipple. Isabelle groaned with relief and at the same time, Amy slapped her a bit harder, so she reared up, and began to gently lick and kiss the tip of the girl`s breast.

»Oouuhhmmmm! Mmhhmmrrrmmm! Hhmmmmm!«

Now, the slight pain in her left nipple contrasted with the blissful teasing of its sibling and Isabelle knew she should have tried to shake Amy off, but she couldn`t – and a part of her also didn`t want to. The lips plucking on her bud, the impish tongue, it felt so-

»Oooouuuuhhhhhmmmmmm!«

Even the multiple gags could not fully oppress the deep, long groan as finally, Amy`s fingers slid inside her. They moved back and forth, searched and found. Amy continued the massage and Isabelle`s resistance more and more became a helpless writhing.

Amy once again changed her assault. She dropped the Martinet and instead placed her hand on Isabelle`s buttocks, groping them slightly. Then, she turned her other hand palm upwards, stiffened her fingers and took a deep breath.

»Ooouuhmmmm!«

At the same second, Amy pushed forward her hand as hard and deep as she could, clawed her fingers into Isabelle´s buttocks and bit into her nipple. Then, as she felt how the girl stiffened, she slowly withdrew her hand, bending her fingers so they brushed over the roof of Isabelle`s vagina. At the same speed, she softened the grip on her rear and turned the bite in her nipple into a soft licking and kissing. Isabelle trembled and writhed under her hands, unable to oppress her arousal any longer. With a smile, Amy continued the game several times, thrusting forward hard and fast, following by a slow retreat that sent shivers through Isabelle that made her sigh and groan. Amy stopped moving and the girl raised her head, mewing with protest.

»You want me to continue?«, she asked, massaging Isabelle`s clit.

»Uuuhhmmmmm!«

»Just tell me, Dear!«, Amy purred and playfully pushed her fingers inside her, only to withdraw a moment later. Isabelle let out a whimper and nodded.

»To the bittersweet end?«

»Mmhhmm!«

Again, Isabelle nodded and Amy showed a malicious smile as she pushed inside her again. This time, she made no prisoners and Isabelle thrusted her pelvis against her, all lust and desire. Isabelle was now a volcano and her eruption was as impressive as that of the Vesuvius in 79 AD. The only difference was that her lava that ran down Amy`s arm wasn`t lethal and that the Vesuvius had not collapsed after it had spasmed for more than a minute.

»Phew! You owe me something for that one, Sweetie!«

Amy was rather exhausted now, too. She flexed her fingers and massaged her right hand whilst she staggered and had to sit down. Her nipples were almost piercing through her tight sweater and she knew that her panties were moist. But getting that bomb to explosion had been worth it!

After some time, in which Isabelle had not been sure whether she had swooned or was just lingering in the last shivers of her climax, Amy got up and stepped beside her, taking the finger`s of Isabelle`s left hand into hers.

»As said, you owe me something – something that`s dear to you!«

»Mhm? Mmhhrrm! Nnngg!«

Wnen she noticed what Amy was up to, Isabelle protested, but she could not prevent the blonde from taking the ring, her engagement ring, from her finger. Amy stepped in front of her and whispered:

»For the moment, I will store it in my panties, warm and secure! But tomorrow, I will send it to Mikey! After all, he has earned himself a little souvenir, since you and he will never see each other again!«

***

In exchange for the promise to pay for a rent car during their six weeks at Madeira, Mike had persuaded Archie to let him get some equipment from the shelves and then, the mechanic (he called himself »engineer«) had even driven him back to Belgravia and dropped him at a small park close to Pearce`s mansion.

»Thanks for everything, Archie! I hope that I am not the Guinea pig, testing your new prototype!«

»If so, I`d stay and watch! See you and good luck, Dunbar!«

He drove off and Mike shouldered the big backpack whilst carrying a smaller bag in his left. The park was empty, since it was midnight now. It was a good thing, because though his baggage wasn`t illegal, he would have risen some attention what on earth he was doing in the heart of London with scuba tanks.

Hidden by a small pavilion, he unpacked the bulky gimmick. It looked indeed like scuba tanks, but it was something even more extraordinary to carry around.

»Fireball« was not Mike`s favourite James Bond movie, even if one only counted the Connery ones, but at the beginning, there had been a scene where Bond had used a jetpack. And such a contraption, he now had in front of him, though since »Fireball«, more than 50 years of constant improvement had been made.

The model Archie had given him didn`t allow great heights or ranges, but it could carry him up to 100 feet and would allow him to fly and hover for some 60 seconds. And, most important of all, it was very silent.

Mike put the jetpack on his back, put a coiled rope to his belt and filled his pockets with other equipment, allowing him to have both his hands free. Then, he once again looked if he was alone and started the jetpack.

After one rather playful event at the marines, this was the second time Mike used such a device and he didn`t look very elegant for sure, but the jetpack proved to be quite manoeuvrable once he had found out how to regulate the pressure. He avoided colliding with a satellite dish, flew over the chimneys of a huge building and then, he was hovering above the roof of his target.

The engine didn`t work soundless; in fact, it was as loud as a vacuum cleaner. But as he now reduced the push, he managed to land on the roof feeling not like Dumbo on his first flying attempts.

»The Eagle has landed!«

Mike slid down the roof, down to the gutter, and removed the jetpack. It had done its duty, since he would leave this place either not alone and through the door, or in a tin coffin.

»At least, I am now on common territory again!«

The Royal Marines` motto was »Per Mare Per Terram« (at sea and land) and so, he didn`t consider the air his battlefield. However, he still had some climbing to do.

He sneaked towards a skylight. As he had hoped, Pearce or whoever had ordered the installation of the security system hadn`t considered an attack from above and so, all he needed was five minutes and a diamond cutter until he could open the window and lower himself into a dark attic room.

»Lock up your daughters, Ozzie has entered the building!«

He lit the flashlight of his phone – and found himself face to face with a woman that held a sword in her right.

***

Though it was still quite warm inside her prison, Isabelle felt as if an icy hand had gripped her heart. She hung in her bonds, no tension left inside her. Her chin rested inconveniently on the metal frame of the ladder, but she didn`t even bother to turn her head to another side. When her body had demanded its right, she had just peed on the floor. Isabelle was exhausted, very exhausted, but what had broken her was the feeling of defeat.

It wasn`t that Amy had touched her everywhere – but she had managed that Isabelle had enjoyed it. Wanted it needed it. When she had asked her whether she wanted her to continue, no matter the costs, Isabelle, the wanton slut, had nodded, unable to think with anything else than her pussy.

And yet, her embarrassment mixed with another, even greater horror: if Amy had made her cum, could she do it again? Could anyone do it? Hell, even now, she felt a slight tingle when she recalled how Amy had touched her on all the right places.

»Perhaps, it served me right that she took the ring from me!«, Isabelle thought and silently wept into her tight blindfold.

***

»I would never have thought to meet you in Pearce`s house, of all women!«

Mike looked at the life-size bronze statue in front of him. The woman held her sword proud, in her left, she had a scale and her eyes were blindfolded. Justicia was indeed the goddess he would not have expected to meet in the house of a traitor, though I was just a statue and looked as if it had collected dust for some time.

Justice! Bring someone to justice! In the last years, maybe already when he had still been in the Secret Service, Mike had learned that there was more than one kind of justice and he had bent or broke the law more than once, also challenged his own moral compass in the progress.

In addition, he could see someone else follow her own sense of justice; not Amy, who only followed her desire to make him suffer, but Adele. According to what Julie had confessed to him, Adele had all reason to hold a grudge against Julie, though she was surely exaggerating her revenge. The case involved a black and a white woman, but it wasn`t all black and white. Mike looked at the scale in Justicia`s hand that looked far more balanced than the whole situation.

»Ma`am!«

Mike lifted an imaginary hat towards the statue and turned towards the door. It was locked, but it was just an ordinary lock and so, it only took him several minutes to open the door because he wanted to avoid producing noise.

He sneaked onto the stairs that led down to the third floor. So far, he didn`t hear anything, but he had no idea where his opponents or the captives were kept. If he was lucky, Amy, Adele and the third woman would sit together by a bottle of Champaign and all he had to do was point his gun at them and then, after he had tied them up, look for Isabelle and the others.

»However, something tells me it won`t be that easy!«

He carefully stepped down and found himself at a corridor with a dissuasive number of closed rooms that he all had to look inside.

***

Amy took a deep breath when she stepped out of the front door. The fragrance of Isabelle had been like a drug, but now, she just needed to get her head clear again. Not only did she have to prepare the van for their trip North, since they wanted to leave in three hours from now on and stowing the passengers would take its time. She also had an indistinct feeling that something was wrong.

So, when she checked the load of the van, she thought what she could have forgotten. Their initial plan had had to be changed a bit, that was true: at the beginning, it had been just Julie N`Kono on their list. Just Adele`s little revenge plan. Mathilda had then more or less stumbled in by accident. She had been on Adele`s payroll when she had still been Pearce`s mistress, though she had been a very small cog. Then, she had become an unwanted witness and now, she would also end up her promising career in a brothel.

Amy`s thoughts wandered to Lalita. They would take her with them, but maybe, Alinda had her own plans with her. However, the brunette was a bit volatile and maybe, she would have lost interest when they had reached their destination. Then, the former founder of »Lolly`s Panty-Monium« would end up as »Busty Indian«, or whatever the brothel keeper would like to introduce her as.

Then, there was Isabelle. No longer the girlfriend, but the fiancé of Mike Dunbar. She could almost feel the engagement ring she had indeed put into her panties. Mike would perhaps find her, sooner or later. After all, he was a smart guy, and maybe even determined. But by then, she would have gone through so many hands that he wouldn`t recognize her.

She smiled as she remembered how Isabelle had writhed and mewed under her caresses. She had almost climaxed herself when she had felt the redhead`s resistance break, and Amy knew that a seal that was broken once would never be the same again.

However, her triumph still mixed with the feeling that something was not going the way it should. Following a vague idea, she checked her phone. There was nothing, and suddenly, it clicked.

Amy opened WhatsApp and looked at the message she had sent to Mike. It was the information that he should wait for further instructions. Since then, the man had not made the slightest attempt to get any information about Isabelle`s well-being. Even more, he hadn`t even been online for more than an hour!

»This bastard is planning something! Maybe, we should hurry things up a bit!«

***

On the tv screen, Julie N`Kono was just getting closer to her climax, but the real Julie stared on something much closer to  her eyes: Adele`s hand that rested on her left breast, like a giant spider.

For a while, Adele had enjoyed watching the video and on every 100 likes, she had sent her into the hell of tickles by turning on the vibrators at her soles and her flanks on full speed. Julie hated her body for betraying her. It was not that Adele was whipping her, or torturing her with a crowbar. It was just a little vibration, and in addition, she could prepare for it by looking at the like counter, the countdown from hell. And yet, even her strong will could not control her reflexes and a few seconds after the vibrators had started, Julie had been twitching and spasming, sending helpless whistles and gasps through her gag.

»I used to be tough – and now, a little girl with a feather could drive me mad!«

At one point, she had feared that Adele would just not turn the toys off, but when she had almost fainted, it had stopped again. Then, Adele`s hand had come into her view. The blonde had reached down, brushed over her body and felt for her breasts, cupping the left. Julie had still been panting and thus not even protested when Adele had started to knead her breast. Then, she had moaned, but this had only stoked Adele`s desire. Finally, she had just endured being groped whilst she still was unable to turn her eyes from the terrible show she was the protagonist of.

Then, she had noticed something else: the like counter had passed 500, but the vibrators remained silent. At the same time, the movements of Adele`s hand had changed; she had groped her breast with more effort, though not especially brutal. Then, Julie had heard it: beside her own moaning and whimpering on screen and her own breath, there was also some panting. It was as if someone was trying to oppress heavy breathing, and when she heard a faint sigh from the bed, she knew why Adele didn`t continue the tickle torture: with one hand on Julie`s breast and the other between her legs, she could not operate the remote.

Adele`s orgasm was almost discreet, ladylike. There was one tightening of her grip in Julie`s flesh, one louder sigh and a screech of the bed frame as she reared up. Then, she had just gently massaged Julie`s breast, playing with her nipple that had hardened, much to Julie`s embarrassment. Somehow, a tender Adele had felt even more frightening than a mean one, but then, her hand had stopped moving and now was just lying loosely on her breasts. Obviously, Adele had fallen asleep.

Julie had been in a dilemma: on the one hand, she thought of exploring her bonds, to see if she could perhaps escape. Also, there was a terrible urge to scream, not so much to alert someone, but to ease her horror. However, if she moved too much, made too much noise, Adele would wake up – and then, Julie would have to pay.

She looked at the picture of Adele and her father, Professor Adrew Delacroix. Or, just Andy. On the photo, he almost looked as he had when Julie had first met him, some ten years ago.

Her marks at school, together with the connections of her rich uncle, had earned Julie a scholarship. In fact, she had been able to go to a European university. Since Cameroon was a former French colony and people spoke French there, Paris would have been the obvious choice. However, Julie, who had also excelled in English – and who had wanted to avoid a cousin who studied at the French capital – had opted for London.

The first months had been exciting – a strange new city on a strange continent, the culture clash and the still considerable language barrier. There had been a few minor insults because of her skin colour, but so far, she hadn’t to suffer from real racism. After a while, she had adjusted to the life of a student and in her second term, she had attended a seminar by Professor Delacroix.

Delacroix had been 55 whilst Julie still had been 18; in addition, she had been his student. However, he had also been a man, and Julie had noticed how he looked at her or other pretty girls in his course. She had become his student assistant and then, there had been more. The initiative for the affair had come from both sides. Of course, Delacroix should have withdrawn, could have avoided the inevitable – at least, that was what Julie had always told herself later.

In addition to having an affair with one of his students, Delacroix had also cheated on his wife. So far, it was inappropriate, but not enough to be a real scandal. This had come later. And that what had come later was the sin Julie was now paying the price for.

She had not fallen in love with Delacroix, though he was quite handsome and a capable lover; Julie had thought that this would get her easy access to good marks in his courses. However, he had given her a B- for her final exam – too bad for her to have her scholarship prolonged. Enraged, Julie had confronted him and Delacroix had told her that, according to academical standards, her work had been just above average and when she had asked him if he considered her affair also »above average«, Delacroix had assured her that  he was well able to separate his private life from his work as a Professor.

Julie had pleaded, telling him what a good mark meant to her, but to no avail. In the end, she had offered to go down on him, right here in his office. Delacroix had asked her to go, calmly, but Julie had seen the contempt in his eyes. Perhaps, he had now realized that she hadn`t been with him for his charms and good looks, let alone for love.

Obviously, Delacroix had thought that Julie would be too embarrassed to ever say a word about the whole affair. Well, this had been a point where the Professor had erred. Julie had gone to the head of the faculty and accused him of having used his position to get sex with her. She had avoided the word »rape«, just said that it had come to sexual intercourse she had felt pressed to commit. It had been shortly after the affair around Dominic Strauss-Kahn, and so, many people had believed the seemingly naïve girl from Cameroon, who had come to Europe, only to fall into the clutches of a dirty old man who abused his power. Especially one newspaper had had a field day – it had in fact been that moment Julie had seen the power of the media and decided to become a journalist.

It hadn`t come to an accusation, but the dean had suggested the perplexed Delacroix to have a sabbatical. For obvious reasons, Julie had avoided the Professor, but she had heard that his wife had left him, and when the next term was over, he didn`t come back.

Julie hadn`t felt too good about what she had done. Not so much because of Delacroix, but because she was the living proof that sometimes, one false accusation could ruin a man`s career. She had tried to compensate the only big sin in her life by fighting for justice, as she tried to do with »Changing World«. Over the years, she had almost forgotten about Delacroix and she had thought that God had forgiven her. However, it seemed that at least the devil still had her marked in his book. And he had manifested in the body of Adele Delacroix.

Back then, she and Adele had never met in person, except for two times; once when she had visited him at his office and Julie had been there, pretending to help him organizing his research. Adele had just gained her master`s degree and was working as a lecturer at her father`s university. She had left little time after her father; she had not been accused, of course, but there had been jokes about her being the daughter of the »dirty old man« and so, she had changed her job.

Her last day had been the second time she had met Adele. She had confronted her at the corridor and asked her, with a look that could have turned lava into ice, whether she was proud of what she had caused.

Surrounded by other students who seemed to be on her side, Julie had responded:

»If me standing up against men like your father helped women like me live a life free from being seen as sex objects – yes, then, I am proud!«

The applause had shooed Adele away, and it had also washed away Julie`s concerns about perpetuating her lie, even making it worse. She had been able, however, to not overexpand the whole hype and so, she had avoided the offer of the aforementioned newspaper to pay her a considerable sum for an exclusive interview. Julie had reached what she wanted: the officials prolonged her scholarship for one year, due to the »unpleasant circumstances« – nobody wanted to cause a shitstorm for not helping a poor victim –, and the B- had never been mentioned again. After that, Julie had held her head low until people had found another scandal to drool over.

She had forgotten about Delacroix daughter; even when she had heard about her during the Pearce affair, the name Adele Delacroix hadn`t rung a bell immediately. However, it seemed that Adele hadn`t forgotten. Instead, she had cherished her grudge until, ten years later, it had become pure, evil lust for revenge.

Julie squirmed in her bonds. Suddenly, Adele`s loose hand seemed to have become an icy claw, squeezing her heart. She panted, only to be remembered of her helplessness, as each bit of air was filtered by Adele`s panties that were damp from her arousal and now covered her nose. She was naked, vulnerable, exposed. And still, she had no idea what the end of the whole ordeal was. Would Adele let her go, to see how it felt if people pointed at her with their fingers, embarrassing her? Would she destroy her physically, too? Somehow, Julie doubted that Adele intended to kill her, but that didn`t mean that a pleasant life was waiting for her.

Again, she had to bite down hard on her gag to not scream from panic. As long as Adele slept, the situation did at least not get even worse. Well, almost not worse, since the like counter still was on, showing her that now, 666 persons had found her helpless squirming desirable.

»And not one of them considers calling the Police!«

In her eyes, each of these 666 likers was part of a giant jury, agreeing with Adele that her ordeal was what she deserved for her sins.

***

Mike had checked the rooms of the second floor, finding nobody in them. At least, the doors had all been unlocked, and in addition, most of them had been barely furnished or completely empty. It looked as if the mansion was about to be sold, and the current owner had already moved most of the furniture, leaving behind only the things he didn`t want or that weren`t easily moveable.

He checked his watch. It was now 1 am, the witching hour had ended, and yet, all three witches were still somewhere below his feet. If he counted the cellar in, he just had three floors to check. Silently, he walked down the steps to the next floor, his gun in his hand.

***

Some 40 minutes earlier, Alinda, coming from another dip into the tub with the cold water, had decided that Lalita needed another refreshment, too. She had given her a breast massage with her still cold fingers and though she was blushing from embarrassment, the Indian had to admit that Alinda knew what she was doing and when she had withdrawn, her nipples had not been pointing out from the cold. Alinda had returned for the cold tub, only to return with two ice cubes, holding one of them in each of her palms where they already had begun to melt in the hot air.

»Do you know when a cool refreshment works best?«, Alinda had asked in a hoarse voice. Then, she had knelt between Lalita`s open thighs.

»When the cold hits you where you are steaming hot!«

In a lascivious way, she had sucked on one of the ice cubes before putting it into her mouth. Then, she had pushed her other hand between Lalita`s legs.

»Uuuhmm! Hhhrrrmmm! Nnnggg!«

Lalita had mewed and flailed with her unbound lower legs at the assault and her eyes had widened as Alinda had pushed the ice cube into her cleft. The icy suppository made her rear up – and press her pubic mound against Alinda`s face. At that moment, the other`s tongue pressed the other ice cube against her clit. Lalita had shivered and spasmed, accompanied by high-pitched squeals. Then, as the ice had melted and there had only been nimble fingers and a tender and yet energetic tongue, she had felt a mixture of horror and – excitement. Against her will, maybe also a bit according to her will, Lalita had stopped screaming and her movements had slowed down.

Alinda had pushed her other hand under her buttocks, lifting Lalita slightly as she continued to tease her with her tongue. She felt a wild triumph when suddenly, Lalita started to moan and squirm again.

»Easy, girl, I have barely started!«

The reason why Lalita was struggling was that Amy had entered the room and, according to their position, Alinda hadn`t noticed her. The blonde playfully waved her index finger at Lalita, as if she wanted to reprimand her. Then, she fished an ice cube from the tub, sneaked behind Alinda and put it into her panties.

With a squeal, the brunette had spun around and then looked at her comrade with a mixture of anger, surprise and embarrassment. Then, she had smiled like a schoolgirl being caught pinching a bit of chocolate, and she had licked her moist lips. Amy, also smiling, had patted Alinda`s shoulder and then looked at Lalita`s exposed middle so blatantly that the girl had lowered her head, her cheeks burning from humiliation.

»I have a feeling we will get a visitor! Let`s prepare this one, Mathilda and the ginger for the ride and then, we will go upstairs and pack up Julie. I want to be on the road in one hour – or in two hours, if we have to take care of Mikey first!«

***

The picture offered at the second floor was about the same as above: the mansion had been partially emptied, only a few pieces of furniture were still left. It looked as if either Pearce or rather Adele had ordered to remove most of the equipment, but leave enough to keep the mansion habitable for a few more days or weeks.

Pearce was accused of high treason and thus, his bank accounts were frozen, but his estate technically still belonged to him. If Adele had power of attorney, she could legally sell the mansion; with considerable loss, maybe, but it would still be a few million Pound.

»So had you planned to follow Pearce, or are you making your own plans now?«

He had reached the part of the corridor where a large staircase led down to the ground floor. From below, Mike heard some indistinct sounds and he ducked into a doorframe to listen whether someone was coming towards the stairs. Then, he heard other sounds from behind the door. They were faint, but unambiguous nevertheless: it was the oppressed sighs and moans of a sexually aroused woman.

»A Gentleman would sure knock – but some people say that I am lacking manners anyway!«

Mike tested the door and found it unlocked. He was prepared for two people in bed, both in the throes of passion, and he intended to threaten them with his gun before they had pumped enough blood back above their waists to accomplish such tasks as screaming for help. So, he sneaked in and aimed at the bed.

The image in front of him was a bit different than what he had expected: there were two persons, and both were naked, but one of them, a blonde that only sported white stockings and matching lacy garters, was sleeping alone on a large French bed. One of her hands rested on the breast of a black woman who was fixed to a wooden podium, her arms folded behind her head and her soles tied together so her open legs formed a rhombus, exposing her pubic area. It was Julie N`Kono, staring at him through the leg openings of a pair of white frilly knickers covering her head. The silk over her nose was billowing and she panted heavily. For a moment, Mike thought she was in the throes of passion, but then, he realized that Julie was fighting not to scream, to not wake up the blonde he now recognized as Adele Delacroix.

There was still the moaning and heavy breathing and he now saw it came from the tv. It took Mike just a glimpse to see it was a video he knew all too well, for he had been its art director and the protagonist was lying right in front of him.

Mike closed the door and put his finger to his lips. Julie, her eyes still like saucers, nodded. Now, Mike put his gun in his belt and Julie watched as if he was a magician performing a trick as Mike produced a transparent plastic bag with a zipper on it. It looked like an evidence bag, but it contained a white cloth pickled in some liquid. He removed the cloth from the bag, draped it over his palm and then approached the bed. To get to Adele`s face, he had to climb over the podium and once again, Julie had to bite down on the panties in her mouth not to utter a sound. Then, things happened very quickly.

Mike darted forward, burying Adele under his body whilst he pressed the soaked cloth over her mouth and nose. The sudden impact of his 75 kilos drove the air out of her lungs and so, Adele had breathed in a considerable dose of the narcotic before she even was awake. Her eyes flipped open and then, somehow delayed, she screamed into the cloth. Her hand, trapped under Mike`s arm, twitched and slapped a few times on Julie`s breasts as she tried to struggle. Then, as her moans ceased, the hand once cramped and then, it lay loose again. The mewing stopped and a little later, Mike moved down from Adele, leaving the cloth draped over her face. One down, two to go!

***