One Week in the Private House (30 page)

Lucy was suddenly aware of an urgent need. 'Toilet,' she said. 'Yes, I want a pee.'

'Excellent,' Patrick said. 'Your initiation can start immediately.'

Lucy eyed him warily. Melanie stepped forward and pushed her unsmiling face towards Lucy's. 'Well, Lucy,' she said, 'you can go to the toilet - if you kneel in front of me and ask me very nicely.'

Without thinking, Lucy rejected the idea. Aghast, she stared from one to the other of her tormentors. They stared back, until at last Melanie shrugged and turned to her partner. 'Nice body,' she said. 'It seems almost a shame to mark it so soon.'

'Athletic,' Patrick agreed. 'Strong.'

'She'll need to be, if she maintains this attitude.'

'Would you like to go first?'

Melanie smiled for the first time. 'You know me so well, Patrick. We'd better chain her first, I think.'

Lucy listened, but hardly understood what she was hearing. Perhaps this is all a nightmare, she thought, or a test; that must be it. But if I have really fallen into the hands of sadistic psychopaths ... I should have believed those ridiculous stories I heard yesterday. I thought that redhead had a screw loose, but this fits in with everything she said. And if I'm going to find out what's going on, I've got to get out of this cell, and I've got to stay in good shape, and I can't afford to waste time. And therefore - Lucy steeled herself for the logical conclusion - I must at all costs avoid being beaten and kept here for days without food. I'd be in no condition for detective work. And so I mustn't give these two any excuse.

She slid from the bed and lowered herself to her knees in front of Melanie.

'Legs wide apart, Lucy,' Melanie said with a malicious grin. 'From now on you'll never stand or sit or kneel with your legs together.'

Lucy shuffled her knees across the cold tiles and parted her long, golden thighs. Her head was bowed, not submissively but because she was concentrating on mastering her anger and the pressure of her bladder.

She forced herself to look up at Melanie's smiling face. 'May I go to the lavatory?' she said.

Melanie stared down at her, and lifted an eyebrow.

Lucy gritted her teeth. 'Please,' she added.

'Of course you may,' Melanie said. 'Patrick, would you fetch the pan?'

Lucy's head drooped. I might have guessed, she thought.

Patrick left the room and returned with a plastic bowl. Melanie took it and offered it to Lucy, but Lucy was unable to force herself to touch it. Melanie placed it on the floor between Lucy's knees.

The blush that Lucy felt spreading across her face only added to her anger. 'I can't!' she snapped. 'I can't do it like this.'

Patrick and Melanie were unmoved by this outburst. 'We can wait, Lucy,' Patrick said.

'And if we get bored,' Melanie added, 'we'll start beating you.'

Minutes passed in silence. Lucy was seething with helpless rage, torn between her desire to take violent retribution on her captors and her knowledge that, even if she could defy them, she would in doing so destroy her chances of uncovering the truth about the Private House. The pressure in her bladder was more than merely uncomfortable, it had become a dull pain; and she also knew, perhaps not consciously but in the pit of her stomach, that there was something insidiously sexual about her position and about the whole business of being forced to piss in public.

The tingle in her groin came as a surprise to Lucy herself. Suddenly a stream of straw-coloured urine hissed into the bowl. Lucy was unable to control it; she closed her eyes to shut out the shame.

'At last!' Melanie's voice was loaded with sarcasm. 'Now that Lucy is quite finished, perhaps we can proceed. Come along, Lucy. And bring the pan with you.'

Fists clenched and cheeks blazing, Lucy felt herself about to burst into tears of fury and frustration.

'What's the matter, Lucy' Patrick's voice was low and friendly. 'You must hurry up. Melanie's just waiting for an excuse to punish you.'

Lucy took a deep breath. 'I don't like being told what to do,' she said, emphasising every word.

Patrick laughed. 'Don't be silly, Lucy. You'll have to change your outlook on life, won't you? You're in the Private House now.'

Well then, Lucy thought, at least I know I'm on the inside. I'll have to do my best to put up with being pushed around by these snotty kids.

She picked up the plastic bowl and followed Patrick from the room.

Sebastian leant forward and pressed a switch on the side of the computer. The screen faded to black.

'So now you've seen it all,' he said, as Jem lowered herself on to his lap and on to his upright member. 'As you can see, there's a vast array of programs, but once you're inside the system it's all menu-driven.'

'I've worked with networked micros before,' Jem said, watching his lean face as she contracted her vaginal muscles around his thick shaft. 'I like a man who can hack his way through security codes. Now you've penetrated my system, will you select menu item one -' she tightened her muscles again, '- or item two -' she rested her hands on his shoulders, lifted her body slightly, and then sank on to his shaft again,'- or item three?' She moved her hips in a small circle.

'Any of the above,' Sebastian laughed, 'or all of them together. But not too much, my voracious darling, or I'll come immediately, and I want time to play with your silk-covered nipples first.' Jem kissed the hooded lids of his dark eyes and trembled as his fingers gently plucked at the silk triangles that covered her breasts.

'And I don't have to hack,' he went on after a pause. 'I wrote or modified most of the software. And I know all the security codes. And now you know them too.' He ran his hand down the side of her face. Jem kissed his fingertips, and looked longingly into his lined, tanned face. 'Darling Jem,' he said, 'why on earth have I allowed you to extract all this information from me? Good heavens, woman, I've even tampered with the central records file just because you've asked me to.'

Jem extended her tongue and delicately licked the palm of his hand. 'I guess you find me irresistible,' she said, wriggling her hips. The sensation of his prick inside her sent a tremor through her body, and she arched her back, closing her eyes and biting her lower lip.

She shook her head and found Sebastian gazing at her with an expression that combined wonder, devotion and desire. 'I suppose that must be it,' he said in a faraway voice. 'And stop doing that,' he added, 'or I really will come straight away.'

'Again?' Jem said. 'But Sebastian, baby, it's my turn next.'

'Precisely. So keep still, and let me do the work this time. Now then, I expect you'd like me to put this finger ... Where? Round about here?'

She felt his hand glide down her spine and come to rest between her splayed buttocks. One fingertip tapped against her anus.

'Oh yes,' she said, 'at least that finger, and maybe he could bring a friend.' She relaxed her muscles and felt the familiar exciting discomfort of her anal sphincter being widened as he introduced his fingers. She kissed his face. 'That's nice, Seb,' she said. She widened her eyes, and adopting her best little-girl voice, whispered, 'Finger-fuck my ass-hole, lover.'

Sebastian complied, his hand moving languorously as his sharp nose nuzzled Jem's right breast. He pushed aside the cream silk to take her nipple between his lips.

Between shivers of delight Jem glimpsed him grinning and heard his quiet chuckles of enjoyment. The fingers in her arse were moving faster now, and most of her breast had disappeared into Sebastian's mouth. She was writhing in frustrated excitement, her back arched, until at last Sebastian thrust his other hand into the space between their bodies, and his knuckles pushed against the top of her slit sending an electric thrill sparking from clitoris to womb to rectum. She reared up, an orgasm like a heated wave spreading to every nerve-ending in her body, and her vagina clenched Sebastian's penis, moulding itself to the throbbing hardness at her centre. Still shivering with the after-tremors of ecstasy she felt the pulses of his sperm spurting into her.

They were forehead to forehead, nose to nose. Jem opened one eye to meet Sebastian's intense dark gaze. Both of them began to laugh, and found they couldn't stop. At last Sebastian collapsed against the back of the chair, and Jem lifted herself off his prick and fingers. Sebastian lifted his hands to his face and sniffed appreciately, as if savouring the cork of a newly-opened
premier cru.

Jem giggled again. She was really very fond of her tall, lean, hawk-nosed lover. He was as sexy as Rudi, and as intelligent and impressive as Headman. She told herself that she must not become attached or distracted; she had work to do. 'Good of Rhoda to let us use this office,' she said.

'She's taking quite a risk,' Sebastian said, suddenly serious. 'If the Master found out, there wouldn't be much left of her to become a scullery-maid, which I imagine would be her eventual fate. I assume she simply fancies you as much as I do.'

'You're cute, Seb. This sure is a private place. No cameras or microphones here?'

Sebastian laughed. 'This used to be my office. And I was in a position to ensure my privacy.' He looked round at the blank walls. 'There's nothing left of its former glory, is there?'

Jem considered the strip lighting and the beige carpet. The room was empty except for the chair, the desk, and the computer terminal. 'This room was glorious?'

'I had it furnished in baroque style. There were several computers and monitors then, of course; but I liked the contrast between their bleak functionalism and the gilt scrolls and cheeky cherubim that sprouted from everything else in the room. My desk - Louis Quinze, very elegant -was there, in the centre of the room. There was a false ceiling and a chandelier. I used to sit on a
chaise longue
- not tremendously good for my posture, but there was room for someone else to sit or kneel or lie beside me. I dressed my staff in periwigs and satin waistcoats to suggest eight-eenth-century costume. There was a rota for
chaise longue
duty . ..' He shook his head slowly as he visualised the room as it had been.

Jem leant forward, held his face in her hands, and kissed his mouth. He responded urgently, and Jem was surprised and delighted to see that his limp penis was already beginning to stir. 'Tell me about
chaise longue
duty,' she said. 'You didn't have to keep both hands on your keyboard?'

'I'm a terrible typist, Jem. Two fingers. I found it helped me to concentrate if I had something to occupy my spare hand. Some of my most inspired pieces of programming came when I had my fingers inside some pretty computing trainee and she had her lips round this apparently unfailing organ.'

Jem bent to kiss his stiffening penis and inhaled the spicy aroma of his come mingled with her own juices. 'Mmmm. Gosh, it is unfailing, isn't it? But there's no time for fun.'

Sebastian's face darkened. 'Are you returning into the clutches of our Master?'

'Don't worry, Seb honey. I can keep his mind on other things, most of the time. Today I've asked to take a look at a newcomer; what's it called, an initiation? So he's going to take me along. He says it'll be pretty straightforward. Security are in charge of this one.'

'Then it will be basic, that's certain. The Master's getting very unsubtle these days. And saying it is enough to get me executed for treason if he's in a bad mood. And he's always in a bad mood these days, too.' He sighed. 'This place used to be such fun, Jem. Never mind.'

'Maybe this place won't last much longer, Seb.'

'What on earth do you mean? The Master's got it sewn up, hasn't he?'

'We'll see. Come on, it's time to leave.'

'You're right. Thank you for a lovely time, Jem.'

'Thank you for coming!'

Chief Anderson was flustered; that could be the only explanation. He had offered Julia a chair, for one thing, and Julia knew that he wasn't the type to let his subordinates be seated in his presence. He paced around his desk, his thick fingers tapping his lips, glancing occasionally at Julia. He seemed at a loss for words, and Julia, looking at the gauze pouch swinging below the barrel of his torso, realised that this was the first time she had seen him without so much as a hint of an erection. He looked distinctly shrivelled.

At last he stopped pacing and deposited his bulk in his big chair behind the desk. 'Well, Julia,' he said, and stared at his fingertips.

'Yes, Chief?'

'I don't know what to make of you, Julia,' he said. 'Are you ...?'

'What, Chief?'

'Never mind. If you were, you wouldn't tell me. Maybe you are what you appear to be.'

'And what might that be, Chief?'

'My star recruit, of course. A credit to the Security Corps. You've been here four days, and you're the most promising recruit of this year's intake. You've been chosen for duties in the Round Tower - over my head, I might add - and you've found a new guest for the House. And, on top of everything, your clearance level has been upped. And not just a level or twp. Unprecedented.'

'My what's been upped?'

'Your clearance level, Julia. Right up to Gold. I suppose there's no reason you should know about clearance levels, as a trainee. Access to high-level files and equipment is restricted, you see. You need to know the codes and passwords. Here they are.' He pushed a plastic card and a scrap of print-out across the desk.