The Black Widow Read online

  John remained silent, studying her with a wary expression.

  Sky was oblivious to him. She was talking more to herself than John, lost in her own world of harsh memories and bitter retribution. ‘I guess it was the hard work that cured me of my ideals,’ she said idly. ‘Years of penury and hardship killed my dreams. It warped my principles out of all recognisable shape.’ She laughed again, a harsh, mirthless sound. ‘They had a nickname for me at the last health farm where I worked,’ she told him. ‘They called me the Black Widow.’

  John swallowed nervously. His face was crumpled with helplessness and he struggled against the clasps on the birthing-stool.

  ‘I suppose the Black Widow is a fitting name,’ Sky went on. ‘I am a widow, and I invariably dress in black, but I think they named me after the spider.’ She turned to smile at him, an evil glint sparkling in her hazel eyes. ‘You know. The big black spider that devours its partner after mating.’ She grinned rapaciously. ‘I’d begun to get that sort of reputation. Not that I killed or ate any of my lovers. But some of them were left wishing I had.’

  With a sudden, vicious movement, she raised the riding crop high in the air, then brought in down smartly against his thigh.

  Startled, John gasped for air.

  ‘Give me a decision, John. Which is it going to be? Are you leaving? Are you staying? Answer me.’ She raised the crop again and brought it down with three sharp, successive swipes. The first striped the inside of his left thigh and the second scored a red line on his right. The third blow landed squarely on his scrotum.

  As John howled in a high-pitched scream, Sky reconsidered the idea of gagging him. It would not be ideal but if he was going to make this sort of noise it would only be prudent. She dropped the crop to the floor and stepped closer. With her right hand she grabbed his aching balls with talon-like fingers. Ignoring his protests and cries for release, she moved her mouth over his and kissed him. Her tongue slipped between his lips and she traced the silky wetness inside.

  John’s moans of protest subsided and she felt his erection stiffen against her wrist. Shaking her head ruefully, she mentally chastised him for making things too easy. She moved her mouth away. ‘Did you ever wonder how this birthing-stool got here? Were you on duty when it was delivered?’

  Aware of his nervousness and confusion, she shook her head and continued to answer her own question. ‘I had it delivered, with no return address and strict instructions that the carrier wasn’t to take it back. I figured it would end up in a storeroom like this when I sent it. And I knew the time would come when I would be here to use it.’

  He was unable to mask his fear as he stared at her.

  Sky kissed him softly and gave his balls a reassuring squeeze. ‘I’m telling you this, so that you know how much planning I’ve done. Your involvement in my scheme is negligible and I’ve worked too long and too hard to let you be more than a minor irritation. Now, which is it to be?’

  He rolled his head from side to side. ‘I can’t leave Elysian Fields,’ he gasped. ‘I have a job here and I’ve made a commitment.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ she told him with feigned sadness. ‘I suppose the owner made a wise choice employing someone with your dedication. It’s a pity you got caught in the middle of all this but, if things work out the way I intend, then I might consider reinstating you.’

  He was staring at her with obvious panic.

  Sky was surprised to discover the depth of her own malicious streak. The pleasure she was gleaning from his obvious discomfort went beyond the enjoyment she had anticipated. Watching him squirm on the birthing-stool, she could feel the pulse between her legs beating to a quickening tempo.

  ‘Don’t you just love the design of this thing?’ she asked, slapping the side of the stool. Her hand moved beneath him and she teased the smooth flesh of his backside through the cut-out semicircle of the birthing-stool’s seat. The tip of one finger touched the sensitive rim of his anus and John tried to shrink away from her.

  With her resolve hardening, Sky pushed the finger towards the centre of his arsehole and forced it inside him.

  John’s eyes opened wide, a combination of excitement and horror contorting his features. Sky wondered idly if her sharp fingernail was causing him discomfort, then decided that she did not particularly care. She allowed her finger to wriggle inside him for a moment, then slowly withdrew it. His sphincter tightened spasmodically as the finger made its languid egress.

  John groaned as she took her hand away.

  ‘That’s just one of the advantages of this contraption,’ Sky said. With a broad grin, she moved to the side of the birthing-stool and began to climb on to it. ‘I didn’t just have it delivered,’ she told him as she positioned herself over him. ‘I had the damned thing specially designed. The wrist and ankle cuffs were the first part I had fitted. Then I had these steps added, so that a person could climb on it, the way I’m climbing on it now.’ She was poised directly over him, the front panel of her G-string brushing purposefully against his nose.

  ‘Why are you doing this to me?’ John asked quietly.

  She graced him with a wicked grin. ‘Don’t take it personally. You just happen to be the wrong person, in the wrong place, at the wrong time.’ She laughed softly. ‘That sounded quite melodramatic, don’t you think?’

  He shrugged awkwardly. ‘What are you going to do with me?’

  ‘I can’t make you leave – you told me that much – so that means you’re going to have to stay and we can do things in one of two ways.’

  John frowned, appearing more uneasy with each word she spoke.

  ‘There’s a nice way, and a not so nice way,’ she began. ‘You show me what a good boy you can be, and I’ll trust you to behave that way. But if you fail to please me right now, I’ll have you tucked away in a forgotten corner of this place. You’ll be left bound and gagged, then fed and watered when I remember.’

  He glared up at her, blatantly scared by the malice of her casual threat.

  ‘But let’s not dwell on the unpleasant things that might happen,’ Sky said. ‘I’ve told you what’s at stake and I’m sure that you’re bright enough to do the right thing. Right now, you’re going to tongue my pussy and make me scream with excitement.

  Carefully, she teased the front panel of her G-string to one side and pushed herself close to his mouth. For a moment she did not think he was going to respond. He was a wilful bastard, she thought ruefully, and not the sort who enjoyed being dominated. Controlling him in the chair was taking more effort than she had allowed for. Trying to control him out of the chair would be full-time occupation and she did not have the time for such an indulgence.

  Before she could give this thought any more consideration, John had lifted his head and pushed his tongue against her flesh. The slippery wetness of his mouth stroked against the flesh of her pussy lips. Like John, Sky depilated her pubic bush and his tongue was able to travel smoothly against her exposed sex. A tingle of excitement coursed through her as she rolled her pelvis up and down against the squirming of his tongue.

  Memories of the tour through the building were still fresh in her mind, guiding her thoughts into a lurid channel. She could feel the swell of her arousal returning with a furious energy. In the tight, lacy confines of her bra, her breasts ached for attention. She teased her fingers against the ultra-sensitive nubs of her nipples, shivering as tremors of euphoria swept over her. Squeezing the hardening buds tightly, Sky realised the pressure was bringing her dangerously close to orgasm. It seemed incredible to be so close to climax after only a little of John’s tonguing and her own caresses. Regardless of how incredible it seemed, Sky wallowed in the pleasure of her dominant position.

  The tip of his tongue caressed her labia as he sucked one lip, before moving on to the next. He moved his mouth until he had found the pulsing pearl of her clitoris. His tongue flicked quickly over the exposed ball, causing Sky to take a sharp intake of breath. As his mouth travelled lower, his bottom lip
brushed against the thin line of flesh between her arsehole and her pussy. With an eagerness that Sky found exhilarating, John pushed his tongue deep into her sodden cleft. His head moved furiously back and forth as he repeatedly plunged his tongue into her.

  Sky heard herself squeal. The pleasure of being tongue-fucked was a rare treat, especially from someone as capable as John. Enjoying the warm wetness of his mouth against her sex, she pushed herself on to him with renewed vigour. After giving her nipples a final squeeze, she slipped her hands from her breasts. Pushing her fingers through his short blond hair, she held his head firmly in position. Keeping tight hold, she rode herself against his face. His nose and chin were quickly covered with the lubrication of her pussy honey and she could see him trying to blink his eyes open through a viscous veil.

  Feeling orgasm rushing towards her, she ignored his gasps for breath and concentrated on her own satisfaction. She had not allowed for an interlude like this one in her plans, but, now that she was enjoying it, she was determined to extract as much pleasure as possible.

  The climax came in a searing blaze that felt almost triumphant as it tore through her. A dynamic explosion jetted through every straining muscle and she pulled John’s head hard against her flesh.

  He continued to use his tongue as her orgasm shot a golden stream of juice into his mouth. Sky sighed contentedly, her entire body undulating with a series of powerful contractions.

  She released his head as the pleasure began to subside, then eased herself away. There was still a hint of fear in his eyes but she could see that it was not affecting his arousal. His length stood hard between his legs, the tip leaking a thin stream of pre-come.

  ‘I want your cock now,’ she told him, uneven breaths forcing the words to rise and fall. ‘But first, I want an answer. Will you be submissive to me? Or do I have to lock you away?’ She curled her fingers round his shaft, pressing her nails into the rigid flesh.

  John forced himself back against the birthing-stool, writhing from side to side in the chair. He struggled vainly against the clasps at his wrists and his tortured expression was so pitiful Sky felt a genuine wave of sympathy.

  She brushed the tip of his cock against the febrile flesh of her labia. The gusset of her G-string had been pushed to one side and the bulbous tip of his swollen cock was allowed to stroke her smooth skin without obstruction.

  ‘Which is it to be, John?’ she whispered. ‘I need an answer quickly. The invitations have already been sent and the wheels are in motion. Do you want to spend the next fortnight locked in this chair? Or can I trust you to be an obedient little boy for me?’

  He began to nod eagerly and, in that instant, Sky realised she had won.

  ‘I’ll be yours,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll do whatever you want,’ he said quickly. ‘I’ll –’

  She pushed the tip of his cock against her wet hole and slid down on to him. He fell silent as soon as she made the move. As his cock continued to fill her, they both began to groan.

  Sky’s fingers went to the base of his length. She squeezed him hard, using the pads of her fingertips this time rather than the cruel edge of her nails. He bucked beneath her, his hips going forward as he struggled to slide further into the tight confines of her moist interior. His jaw was set in a determined grimace, the exertion contorting his features. The straining cords of his neck muscles pulsed with pure adrenaline as he fought to contain his orgasm.

  Panting happily, Sky squeezed his cock harder and stared down at him. ‘Do you promise to be a good boy?’

  He stared back at her with obvious admiration and nodded his assent.

  She studied his eyes, searching for a hint of rebellion in the pale-blue irises. The expression she saw there was one of absolute submission. Perhaps it was just the moment, she thought, or perhaps he was a damned good actor, but she doubted it was either. Her every instinct told her that she had total control over him.

  Releasing her hand from his cock, she fell heavily on to his length. The shaft jerked with a spasmodic rhythm, shooting the white-hot spray of his seed deep into her cleft. Her velvety inner walls were treated to a staccato titillation as his cock pulsed. The sensation was so fulfilling that Sky felt her own orgasm wrench its way through her body.

  Easing herself away from him, she watched his still-twitching shaft as it slipped from her satisfied hole. A dollop of thick white semen sprayed at her flat stomach and fell there like whipped cream.

  As his euphoria began to wane, Sky realised John was staring at the spatter of come.

  ‘Lick it off,’ she told him sharply.

  For a moment, she saw a flicker of rebellion lighting his eye. The expression was only there for an instant, quickly replaced by a look of alarm. John began to shake his head and tried to tell her that he did not want to lick his own come from her bare belly. But Sky was no longer listening.

  ‘I’ll get my crop, if that will help you.’ She made as if to climb from the stool.

  ‘OK,’ he told her quickly. ‘I’ll do it.’ He sounded weak and defeated as the words were torn from his throat.

  Sky did not allow him the chance to reconsider his decision. Forcing her stomach towards his mouth, she waited until she felt the warm tip of his tongue trail over her flesh. He made a muffled sound beneath her, as though he was gagging at the taste, but this simply made her smile broaden.

  ‘I don’t just want that little smear licking up,’ she said, moving her stomach away from him. She eased herself higher up the stool to the position she had taken at first. Lowering her sodden lips over his face, she said, ‘I want you to lick me properly clean.’

  With a moan of despair, John pushed his tongue inside her and began to lap at his spent seed.

  Sky laughed softly as his tongue teased the spilt fluid from her sex. She knew she was beyond the point of enjoying another orgasm but it was still a pleasing sensation to have him lick her in such a way. His obvious reluctance and painful unhappiness served only to heighten her enjoyment. Sky rubbed the lips of her sex hard against his face, continuing to press close to him long after he had licked the last droplet of his come from the depths of her cleft. When she was finally satisfied with his submission, she stepped from the birthing-stool, picked up her riding crop, and returned it to her briefcase.

  ‘I won’t help you to hurt anyone,’ he said suddenly. ‘I don’t care what you do to me, but I won’t be a part of something like that, whoever it is.’

  Sky had been on the point of fastening the briefcase, but she paused. She glanced back over her shoulder towards him, her frown darkening beneath the fringe of her blonde tresses. Snatching the crop back from the case, she marched swiftly to his side and brandished it at him like a pointing stick. ‘Don’t think you can start telling me what to do,’ she hissed menacingly. ‘Because you’re in no fucking position to dictate anything.’

  Still secured to the stool, John struggled to back away from the woman.

  Sky sliced the crop through the air twice, each time scoring the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. His spent cock lay limp between his legs but the threat of an erection began to stir as the explosion of pain burnt into his skin.

  She ignored his growing excitement. Shaking her head with frustration she struck him again with the crop. The spade-like tip brushed dangerously close to his balls and he winced as though it had hit him squarely.

  Sky was panting as her anger increased. ‘I’m going to have to be more like a black widow than ever before if I intend to do this properly, aren’t I?’

  His frightened expression looked pathetic but she felt no pang of sympathy for him this time. ‘You’re not going to kill me, are you?’ he whispered nervously.

  Smiling, she shook her head, and raised the riding crop high in the air. ‘I’m not going to kill you.’ But I can’t trust you to go about your business and do as you’re told. Like the spider, I’m going to have you wrapped for consumption later.’

  As he stared nervously up at her, the Black Widow began to laugh
.

  Two

  Jo Valentine flicked the double-headed sovereign high in the air. As it span on its upward spiral, she mounted the last step of the staircase and stared at her office door. A frown creased her forehead.

  Painted in black, the words VALENTINE INVESTIGATION AGENCY had been peeling away from the opaque glass for the last few years. Beneath the arch of the letters, there was now a new addition. Someone had taped a small, cardboard sign to the glass: THIS AGENCY HAS MOVED TO NEW PREMISES: POPLAR TREES.

  The tinkle of her sovereign striking the dusty wooden floorboards snatched Jo’s thoughts away from the sign. ‘Shit,’ she growled, barely aware that she had spoken the word aloud. ‘As if the day hasn’t been bad enough…’

  Jo did not bother to complete the sentence. The morning had been sufficiently depressing and she doubted things were going to improve. Reaching down for her coin, she ignored the twinge in her back and tried to decide what would be the best course of action.

  The idea came to her suddenly but, when it struck, she knew it was exactly the right thing. ‘I’m going to kill the bitch,’ she said cheerfully. She pocketed the sovereign. The idea had a warming appeal and it was hard to suppress the grin it inspired. ‘Samantha Flowers is a dead woman,’ she told the empty corridor.

  Turning back to the steps, Jo started down them, heading for the address she had just read. Her resolve was so great that she paused only once en route, and would not have made that stop if she had still possessed a hip flask. She drove through the early-morning traffic with more patience than was normal, distantly realising there was a reason for this uncharacteristic display of control. Her anger now had focus and she was determined to vent it.