Destroying Angel (18 page)

One of the barmaids served Susan. She ordered another gin and orange, and then looked up and smiled at the man.

‘You on your own, love?’ he asked.

‘I was supposed to meet a girlfriend, but she hasn’t turned up,’ she answered flightily.

‘Really?’ he grinned. ‘You’re not from round here, are you?’

‘No, my friend is. It’s a real pain; I’ve come miles to see her.’

‘Well you’ve met me now,’ he winked, ‘so it’s not all bad.’

Susan giggled, and then passed some money to the barmaid.

‘No, no, let me.’ The man grabbed her wrist in a large hand, and then said to the barmaid, ‘Put it on my round, love.’

‘Thanks,’ said Susan, feeling the power in his grip, and noting with a little amusement that every female was his ‘love’.

‘You look really lonely standing all on your own,’ he was saying over the general din of the crowded bar. ‘Come and join us. We’re having a right laugh.’

‘Sure,’ Susan agreed, and followed him back to their table.

Phase one had been simple enough, she thought as he introduced her to his friends, clearly delighted with himself for having picked her up. The two remaining unattached men shot her companion looks of jealousy as she sat down.

Her ‘date’ was Billy Ryan, elder brother to Tod Ryan, who was with his girlfriend, Stacy. The other girl was Terri, and the men were Michael, Luke and another Billy.

Once she’d relaxed a little things went easily. She giggled and tittered inanely, and flirted incessantly with Billy Ryan. Her attention was accepted with enthusiasm, and by the time the next round of drinks arrived his arm was around her shoulders. She snuggled closer into him, although he was incredibly arrogant and her dislike for him was increasing steadily. But if anything, that made the prospect of setting him up even more appealing.

After a few more pints he squeezed her close, almost crushing the air from her lungs, and mashed his lips on hers, drawing lurid whoops and remarks from the other men and giggles from the stupid girls. Susan did her best to respond sexily to the aggressive kiss, only pulling away and slapping his hand playfully when he mauled her breasts. The reaction seemed well judged as Stacy immediately made a remark in Susan’s defence. Billy Ryan laughed and took a huge mouthful of his pint.

‘Later,’ Susan whispered in his ear as he put the glass down, a remark that increased his brashness even more.

She could see Phil Reynolds through the door into the games room, still playing and occasionally glancing her way. Given the amount of drink Billy Ryan had put back, it seemed likely that she would only need her back-up for a lift home, yet the presence of the powerful young policemen gave a very welcome reassurance.

Last orders were eventually called and Susan felt a knot of tension in her stomach.

As the other Billy returned to the table with the final round of drinks, Luke hailed someone across the smoky bar.

‘Oi, Dave, over here!’ he shouted.

Susan froze as she saw the man being hailed. He was a thickset, pugnacious man with close-cropped hair and a broken nose… and Susan knew him.

He was Dave Symmes, a petty criminal she had once struck a deal with, exchanging evidence against his associates for enough time to get out of the country. She didn’t stop to wonder what he was doing back in London; what mattered was that he knew she was a private investigator, and that she didn’t play by the rules.

‘All right, Luke,’ he grunted.

Susan quickly rubbed an eye to hide her face as he started across towards them. She had mere seconds to decide what to do. It was impossible that he wouldn’t recognise her. When he did, her only option would be to scream for Phil Reynolds and make a hasty exit. But that would ruin the operation, and she wasn’t used to failure. For a second she toyed with the idea of bluffing it out; admitting who she was but saying it had nothing to do with her presence in the Bell. She abandoned the idea instantly; there was no way they would believe her. Even as Tod Ryan dragged his chair aside to let Dave Symmes pull a stool up, a desperate plan had formed.

Ducking her head down she slapped her hands to her mouth, and mumbled to Billy that she suddenly felt sick and was about to throw up. As she dashed for the door, sending a chair flying, she heard him roar with laughter at her inability to hold her drinks like him and his mates.

Once out in the dark car park she calmed a little and considered her options. She could take what was probably the sensible option and abandon the operation, or she could hang in there and hope, which was pretty likely, that Dave Symmes was with his own mates and would rejoin them before they all left the pub. Not one to give up easily, she decided upon the latter.

Ryan didn’t come out to see if she was okay, which just about summed him up. More worrying, however, was that Reynolds hadn’t come out either, which suggested he’d not been overly vigilant and hadn’t noticed her hasty exit.

About ten minutes later Ryan and the gang staggered out of the pub in raucous spirits. Ryan threw an arm around Susan’s shoulder, belched loudly, asked indifferently how she was, and was already laughing at some wisecrack from his brother before she had time to answer.

Susan steeled herself to continue. It was clearly too late to back out now. She cursed herself for not making sure Gage and Berner chose a more intelligent minder than Reynolds.

They piled into a van, with Billy Ryan in the driving seat despite the quantity of lager he had consumed. Susan climbed into the front beside him, squashing up as Luke climbed in too. She started to relax just a little, but then heard the one thing she had been dreading; Dave Symmes’ voice outside the van.

‘You lot going back for a party?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, pile in,’ Luke invited, as Susan pressed herself into the shadows.

The doors slammed shut and the van rattled and lurched out onto the road. There was no way out. They were going to someone’s flat and, when they got there, Symmes was going to recognise her. The only thing she could think of was running the moment she got out of the van. They’d wonder what the hell she was up to and it would be the end of the operation, but at least she should get away to safety – and that was all important now.

Billy Ryan was stroking her thighs between gearshifts, steering with one hand and smoking at the same time. Susan let him get on with it, hoping beyond hope he’d get picked up for drunken driving before they got to their destination. She knew she was shaking, but prayed he would put it down to excitement, when a face suddenly appeared next to hers.

‘Where we going then?’ Symmes asked close to her ear.

‘My place,’ Billy Ryan answered as Susan tried to hide her face in shadow, trying not to look too suspicious.

‘Right,’ said Symmes. ‘Ain’t you going to introduce me to your new babe?’

‘Susan, this is Dave, the ugliest git this side of the East End,’ Billy chuckled.

‘Look who’s talking,’ Symmes objected, and then turned his attention to the girl who was clinging to Billy. ‘Hi, Sue… Fuck me!’

Susan knew the game was up. ‘Hi,’ she responded, managing a wan smile.

‘Fuck me!’ he repeated, incredulously. ‘You’re Susan MacQuillan!’

Susan struggled to release her wrists. The sump oil with which they covered her before dumping her among the trees next to a railway yard meant that she might eventually be able to free herself. If she couldn’t, then a railway worker would doubtless find her in the morning, but given the state they had left her in, that was an option she wanted to avoid if possible. With her wrists and ankles strapped together and her knees drawn up to her chest and taped in place, she was completely incapable of movement. She was also wearing nothing but her panties, once white, now filthy with oil.

After Dave Symmes had revealed who she was, she tried to talk her way out of it. But, predictably, her protestations of innocence had been ignored. Billy Ryan and Michael worked for Cooper and were pretty convinced that her presence was connected to the accusation of arson levelled at their boss that morning. Once she had been bundled into the back, masking tape was used to gag her and bind her hands. A fierce argument had then ensued as to what to do with her.

At first she was terrified, but once it became clear that her elimination was not on the cards, her fear faded somewhat. Instead she felt increasing consternation, as it became apparent that the majority favoured teaching her a lesson, and a thoroughly humiliating one at that. Terri and her boyfriend, the other Billy, argued in favour of merely dropping her off somewhere and leaving her to walk back to London. Dave Symmes agreed with this but thought it would be funny to strip her first. Stacy tried to compromise, saying Susan should be left with at least her panties. At last they all agreed.

They drove out to the dead-end that serviced a large area of railway sidings. Susan struggled furiously to stop it happening, trying to kick and scratch her laughing captors, but it was useless.

Symmes sat on her while her jeans were pulled off and her wrists untaped long enough to get her T-shirt over her head. The girls argued for her being allowed to keep her bra, but it had come off anyway, the men having a good feel of her tits while they got her into position to be hog-tied.

This involved rolling her up so her bottom stuck out and her knees were as high as they’d go. Her wrists and ankles were lashed together, and a cord passed under her knees and around her back. The position was not only utterly humiliating, but left her completely unable to move.

Billy Ryan and Dave Symmes had carried her out among the trees and dumped her on the chilly grass. Ryan turned back towards the van, but Symmes stopped him.

‘Hang on a bit, Billy,’ he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. ‘I owe this bitch one, and then some more.’

‘Yeah, you could be right.’ Billy looked over his shoulder towards the van. All was quiet. ‘She made me horny as hell in the pub.’

‘I just want to take my belt to her arse.’

Ryan grunted in reply while Dave Symmes unbuckled his thick leather belt and drew it out of the loops on his jeans. Susan shivered at the sight of the powerfully built thug standing over her with the belt in his hands. Her sense of humiliation couldn’t have been stronger. She just knew she’d be craving sexual gratification as soon as the leather bit into her vulnerable buttocks.

He rolled her onto her knees and elbows. Her humiliation intensified as he peeled her panties down and fondled the bottom he was about to beat.

Sure enough, from the very first smack she started to feel the intense thrill of punishment. Susan hid her face in the grass and closed her eyes. Her situation was straight from her deepest fantasies, and there was nothing she could do to hide her wanton reaction.

The combination of the beating and her utter humiliation was too much. She squirmed and moaned, until the thugs realised she was extremely turned on. Billy Ryan swore and called her a horny bitch, and then quickly freed his erection into the night air.

They took turns with her. At first she tried to deny them by remaining inert, but the effect of the beating and Billy Ryan’s cock were simply too much. Abandoning her last shred of dignity, Susan let herself go.

Ryan sneered at her reaction and smacked her legs as he squatted and fucked her from behind, Symmes making coarse remarks about her all the while. With her thighs tight together the stimulation of his cock ploughing against her clitoris was too much. It was too much for Ryan too, and he came quickly, deep inside her. Then it was Symmes, bullying his way to a hasty orgasm that left her desperately in need of her own climax.

But there were to be no such considerations.

They tugged her panties back up and unscrewed the lid of the sump oil, for her final humiliation.

Billy Ryan did it. He poured the oil slowly over her. He started with her hair, rubbing it well in, and then worked down to plaster her breasts, and lastly her buttocks, tweaking her panties aside to make sure her pussy got a share of the filthy black slime. Symmes stood watching, laughing heartily.

She had remained still until the sound of the van faded, then begun to struggle, squirming in the dirty oil in the hope of lubricating her bonds sufficiently to free herself. Each tiny movement of her wrists loosened the masking tape and slid the cord a fraction of an inch further down.

Her determination increased as the bonds weakened. Okay, what they’d done to her was painfully humiliating, but it hadn’t come close to breaking her spirit, and if she could only get free it would spoil at least part of their joke.

The cord slipped over the widest point of Susan’s hands. The elation of having achieved freedom was strong, yet she knew there was something she really had to do before releasing herself fully. Slipping a hand into her panties and into the filth between her legs, she started to masturbate.

‘Nice one, Susan,’ Paul Berner said as she emerged from the women’s locker room.

She shot him a vicious glare and continued on her way. He laughed quietly to himself, watching her bottom sway sexily under the bathrobe as she walked away down the corridor. What had happened to her not only amused him greatly, but also turned him on, his one regret being that he’d not seen her in the state in which she’d been found. The image of a hog-tied Susan appealed to him immensely. It was better even than what he’d done to her in the burnt-out toilet at de Vergy Fine Wines. If he’d found her, he knew it would have been impossible to resist taking advantage of her vulnerability, just as Ryan and Symmes had done.