The Erotic Adventures of Lady Penelope - French Twist by Hklaw and Steve

THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF LADY PENELOPE: FRENCH TWIST

It was a relatively mild fall day in London as sunlight streamed through the large windows of the restaurant that faced toward the Thames. The light shone through and backlit the blonde hair of the beautiful young woman who sat alone at a secluded corner table for two, sipping tea.

She looked to be about 25 years old, but she carried herself with a grace and maturity beyond her years. But she also had a style that was young and fresh, as demonstrated by her fashion sense.

The young woman wore a fitted pink-and-white tweed jacket over a white cashmere turtleneck that seemed to hug every curve of her magnificent chest. She uncrossed, then re-crossed her legs, which were covered in pale-pink wool straight-leg trousers. Dangling below the cuff of the trouser leg that was aloft was a pale-pink satin stiletto-heeled ankle boot that completed her pink-themed ensemble smartly.

"More tea, madame?" an attentive waiter asked.

"Thank you, no," she responded with a dazzling smile. "When my friend joins me, I suspect we'll be ordering something a bit stronger."

The waiter nodded respectfully and was gone.

The young woman's blonde hair was done in a stylish shoulder-length bob that was brushed back off her forehead, giving full access to the view of her sparkling blue eyes and tasteful makeup. A hint of blush highlighted her high cheekbones, and pink gloss amplified her full lips beautifully. She wore pearl earrings that matched a single strand around her neck and a bracelet on her left wrist. A pink-and-gold signet ring bearing a family crest adorned her left hand as she checked her tasteful gold watch and saw that it was two minutes past noon. Clearly, this young woman was the flower of English society, but she didn't seem to mind waiting for her lunch date. He must be very special, the waiter thought as he discreetly glanced at her table to see if she needed anything.

Special, yes, but "he," no.

At 12:03, the maitre'd made his way to the secluded table, followed by the young woman for whom the beautiful aristocrat had been waiting.

"Lady Penelope!" she said enthusiastically, extending both hands to her friend, who rose gracefully from her seat.

"Livie, I've told you that it's just 'Penelope' to you," she said to her friend. "Must friends be so formal?"

"I'm so sorry, Lady ... I mean, Penelope," she stammered as they slipped into their seats as the waiter and maitre'd slid their chairs in behind them. "It still takes a little getting used to. I'm not exactly accustomed to hobnobbing with the English aristocracy," she added with a polite smile.

"I would hope that by now you would think of me as a friend first and then a colleague after all the time we've spent together," Penelope said, lowering her voice to a discreet volume.

"Livie, you're about to receive your doctorate in International Relations from Oxford, one of the pre-eminent institutions of higher education in the world, and you're also training to join International Rescue," Penelope added. "Figuratively and literally, there should be a seat for you at this table. You really must give yourself some credit."

The compliments made Olivia Strauss blush, but a part of Livie knew her friend and colleague was right and she was beginning to believe that she did, indeed, belong.

Livie, as her friends called her, was a striking young beauty in her own right. She was trim and fit, although rather petite (5-feet-3 or so), but it was her flawless face, her deep, soulful brown eyes and her dazzling smile that would get her noticed as an agent if she continued down that career path, Lady Penelope thought. Livie smiled that smile at Lady Penelope, who took a moment as she sipped her tea to admire her friend's outfit.

Under her Ladyship's tutelage, the young American had taken her own fashion sense and developed it to create a style that was uniquely hers. On this fall day, she wore a fitted forest green cable-knit cardigan over a black silk camisole; with the sweater unbuttoned enough to show the flirty lace trim at the top of the undergarment. The sweater covered the waistband of a blackwatch-plaid pencil skirt that hugged the curves of her slim hips and ended just below the knee. Her shapely legs, toned by years of competitive running for her high school and for Yale University, were encased in a pair of black Italian leather boots, the pointed toes and daringly thin 4-inch stiletto heels adding to the lengthening effect. This wasn't anything she would've worn while studying at Oxford on the Rhodes Scholarship she'd earned or even in the first year of her accelerated doctoral program. But now, after a semester abroad in France, where Lady Penelope had met and recruited her, she was pushing the boundaries in every way.

Livie had also made some subtle changes to her appearance with encouragement from Lady Penelope, adding some rich highlights to her dark brown hair and wearing a bit more makeup to enhance her abundant assets. Today she wore her hair in a shoulder-length tousled bob that framed her exquisite face perfectly.

Lady P had seen her protégé come into her own in recent weeks -- not that she wasn't already extremely intelligent and beautiful, but her confidence seemed to grow with every physical training session, every shopping trip, every International Rescue briefing. She wasn't nearly ready yet, but, given time, Olivia Strauss would make a formidable agent. Her late mother, who had died from cancer when Livie was 13, would have been so proud to see the woman she was becoming.  

Toward that end, Lady Penelope brought her up to speed on the previous day's intelligence from India, Pakistan and Somalia over cocktails. As usual, Livie added her own insights into world events in a way that showed unusual compassion and empathy. That was what had drawn Lady Penelope to her when they met at a party in Versailles -- that and her obvious intelligence and beauty, two assets that marked her as a strong candidate to join International Rescue in a role similar to the one her Ladyship played. Livie's ability to speak French and Mandarin Chinese gave her a leg up on many other potential agents, and her U.S. background meant she could also train a keen eye on the drastically changing American political landscape and offer input.

At Lady Penelope's prodding over salads, Livie also gave the International Rescue agent a quick update on the progress of her doctoral dissertation. But then it was time for some serious girl talk, something an operative in the man's world of International Rescue had so little opportunity to enjoy with someone she considered a peer and an equal.

There was a part of Penelope that wondered if maybe she was moving too quickly in bringing her friend along because she needed someone like Livie in her world. But she quickly cast aside that thought when the conversation turned to her friend's plans for that evening.

Livie had a date with Jean Beliveau, a visiting art professor at Oxford who she had met at a seminar on French impressionists that the young American had audited. Penelope noted that Livie couldn't hide her excitement when she spoke about Jean, and she worried a little bit about what her friend would do at the end of the term when he had to return to his position at the Sorbonne. Would Livie follow him? If her relationship with Jean blossomed, would she still be able to join International Rescue? Would she even complete her training?

These thoughts weighed on Penelope's mind, but only briefly. Right now, tonight and Livie's date with Jean were all that should matter, she decided. He was taking her to an opening at the Connaught Brown gallery in Mayfair.

The ladies discussed what Livie should wear and they settled on the black Lanvin halter minidress that one of Penelope's friends in the fashion world had graciously given her. It certainly wasn't anything Livie could afford while living on an academic scholarship and stipend, but as Penelope prepared her for entry into the world of international intrigue; it was the sort of garment she would be wearing more often in the not-too-distant future.

As the excitement in Livie's voice continued to grow when she spoke about Jean, Penelope asked the kind of question that only she could among Livie's friends: Did she have anything special to wear for her man if they decided to take their relationship to another level tonight?

Livie blushed a bright red and bowed her head slightly in embarrassment, but she also appreciated the chance to benefit from Penelope's expertise in such areas.

"You simply must go to Coco de Mer's shoppe on Monmouth Street," Penelope said, getting caught up herself in Livie's excitement. "In fact, let me make a quick call."

She pulled out her pink Blackberry and in a matter of moments had set up a 2:30 appointment for Livie to see her friend, Renee, who Penelope promised would take good care of her.

Penelope wanted so much to hear more about Jean, and Livie promised they would all have dinner together soon. But now, Livie had to stop by the dry cleaners to pick up her dress and then it was back to her flat to prepare for the evening.

Penelope called her friend a cab and they embraced warmly before Livie promised to call in the morning, then hurried from the table to stay on schedule, the stiletto heels of her boots clicking on the oak floor. Penelope watched wistfully as her friend drew the admiring eyes of a number of men in the restaurant on her way out.

Even though Livie was only a few months younger than Penelope, the English aristocrat already thought of her as the younger sister she'd never had. She couldn't wait to see her again.

***

When the elevator doors opened, all that could be seen was the back of a well-built man's suit jacket, but it appeared that he had someone pinned against the wall. Then, two rather shapely feminine legs could be seen trying to wrap around his thighs as he lifted her off the floor and they kissed passionately. Then, the doors slid closed again before a beep sounded from within and the doors once again opened.

This time, both could be seen. First came the man. He stood about 6-feet-2 and was strikingly handsome, with the face and bone structure of a male model. He certainly dressed like one, wearing a dark brown wool suit with an unmistakably Italian cut and a tan cashmere polo shirt buttoned to the top underneath. His wavy blonde hair was cut stylishly short, and his almost unnaturally blue eyes twinkled -- probably because of the young woman on his arm.

  

Then, the woman whose right hand was held tightly in his became visible as she stepped from the elevator on stiletto heels and wobbly coltish legs. Those legs were incredible -- shapely, toned and flawless -- as they flowed upward before disappearing beneath the short hem of a black charmeuse-draped Lanvin halter minidress. The metal ring at the neck of the dress that held up the front and the back caught the light just so, and the halter style put her toned shoulders and arms on full display.

As Olivia Strauss turned to the side slightly and her date released her hand and put a muscular arm around her slim waist, it became apparent that she was not wearing a bra underneath the dress. More than a hint of a small but well-formed breast peeked out from the side of the designer frock. The side angle also highlighted the gentle curve of her lovely legs as the couple made their way down the hall, smiling from ear to ear and whispering conspiratorially in French.

Maybe even more impressive than her body was the face of this young beauty. Her classically high cheekbones, full lips and big, brown eyes – amplified by just the right amount of makeup, eyeliner and mascara – were captivating. And a small birthmark/beauty mark on her left cheek just made her that much more alluring. Her soft brown hair with subtle highlights was done in a stylish up-do with a right-to-left part of her bangs that framed her face perfectly.

They arrived at Jean's room, which he opened with the key card, and they went inside, mauling each other even before the door closed. They paused for a moment as she laid her wrap, a black satin clutch and a much larger black leather bag on the big four-poster bed and he tossed his jacket there, too.  

They resumed kissing passionately, her arms wrapping around his back and his hands reaching down to fondle her bottom as he lifted her up onto her tiptoes. As their lips parted again, Livie felt Jean unhook the metal band that supported the back of her dress and she responded by stepping back slightly as the silky garment fell to the floor. She stepped out of the dress and stood before him, wearing only her stiletto-heeled sandals and a black satin thong.

Livie looked down shyly for a moment before Jean reached forward and gently lifted her chin as she smiled at him and he took her in his arms again. As they embraced, she let her inhibitions go and devoured him hungrily. As their lips and bodies merged, Jean reached down and took her taut little bottom in both hands again and lifted her back up onto her tiptoes. He obviously enjoyed the feel of a petite young woman having to reach up to kiss him, and she loved the feeling of being held so tightly in his muscular arms.

The young beauty was already wet when Jean began to slip his fingers under the thin waistband of her thong and slide it down. After what seemed like an eternity to Livie, but was actually only a few moments, he finally began to slide the fingers of his right hand between her legs as his strong left hand squeezed her cheeks tightly. She felt as if she were about to spontaneously combust as he probed and caressed her with experienced hands and she began to slowly grind her slim hips to his rhythm.

Jean had her now, but when he slowly broke contact with her lips to come up for air, she surprised him. Livie suddenly pushed him backward with both hands. When he looked at her in shock, she unleashed her widest, sexiest smile and pointed behind him with her right hand. She stepped forward again and pushed him even harder with both hands toward what she had just pointed at: a sturdy straight-backed chair that was near a writing desk in the room. Jean's slow smile of recognition brought a twinkle to Livie's big, brown eyes as she stepped close to him and pulled up on his shirt, quickly yanking it over his head to reveal the muscular shaved chest and washboard abs beneath. Then, her hands were on his belt buckle as he stood with his arms out away from his sides to allow her better access. Before he knew it, his wool pants were falling to the floor and she was pulling down his boxer briefs to reveal that she had his full attention.

Jean stepped out of the pants and briefs, then quickly kicked off his Italian loafers and pulled off his socks. He took a seat on the chair as Livie slowly moved toward him. She paused to reach down and started to undo the strap on one of her sandals, but he stopped her. "No, Cherie," Jean said softly, his French accent becoming more pronounced and turning her on even more if that was possible. "I love your shoes. Please keep zem on."

That was all Livie needed to hear as she stepped forward to straddle him, barely clearing the tip of his erect shaft. Jean took her slim hips in his hands and began to ease her down as she placed her hands on his shoulders. As his shaft touched her moist lips, Livie's soft "Ohhhhhh" told him she was ready as she felt a jolt surge through every muscle in her body. As Jean gently pulled her down, Livie closed her eyes and bit her lip as his long, thick member began to part her lips and work its way inside her. She was clearly not a virgin, but her tightness told him that not many men had gone where he was going. He was definitely going to enjoy this!

Livie's deep breathing over the next several minutes as she wriggled her hips and struggled to work downward told Jean that this part of their coupling was not easy for her. When it became apparent that they had come to a standstill and that gravity alone would not be sufficient, Livie opened her eyes and gazed deeply into his. She grasped his angular shoulders firmly in her hands and lifted both stiletto heels off the carpeted floor as he took her full weight in his hands on her hips. "You know what to do, Jean," she whispered. "I want all of you."

He grasped her even more tightly, his fingers feeling her hip bones as he asked, "Now?" 

"Yes!" she said as her voice trembled with anticipation and just a hint of fear. He hesitated, waiting to hear the word.

"Ple-e-e-e-ase," she whispered and he yanked her downward while driving upward with his hips. Livie screamed as her eyes went wide, her back arched and she took him in full measure. Her soft, wet flesh engulfed him as few women ever had.

Jean quickly slid his hands from her hips to the small of her back, pulling her close as she draped her arms around his neck and panted for a few moments. After resting her head briefly on his right shoulder, she turned to face Jean and slowly kissed him. He followed her lead and they began to move, slowly at first, Jean easing out an inch or so as her tightness held him before sliding back in as gently as he could. He would need to move slowly with this one, Jean decided, if he was to take her where he wanted to go.

It was a full 20 minutes before Jean was gliding in and out of Livie at a pace that promised satisfaction for both of them. With each stroke now she became more aroused and more pliable, her young, athletic body finding a rhythm and a motion that had him becoming even more stiff, if that were possible, her trembling muscles working him as no hands or mouth ever had.

The feeling started in her neck and shoulders, the warmth that she had felt only a few times before but for which she had longed since she met Jean. The tingling and fire soon flowed downward while simultaneously igniting in Livie's toes and heading up through her lean, shapely calves and into her taut thighs. She knew both forces would meet soon and she tried to delay the inevitable and let it build. But resistance was futile.

The orgasm hit her with the force of a thermonuclear detonation as her back arched and her mouth opened wide in a silent scream as she bucked and shook in his lap.

When Livie was finally able to catch her breath, her loud moans and pants filled the air as she rode Jean's shaft and held onto him tightly. Just when she thought the feeling was starting to subside, he picked up his pace and began to lead their little lap dance. Livie could feel him growing even stiffer and thicker inside her as he pumped her deeply then slowed again for a series of long, deliberate strokes. She was his now, totally and fully.

"Yes! Yes! More, Jean! More!!!" she moaned as his throbbing shaft filled her to the hilt and he suddenly thrust so hard that she was lifted into the air momentarily before he erupted inside her and she felt a surge of hot liquid shoot into her womb. He continued to push in and out of her as she started to tremble uncontrollably.

Before Livie knew what was happening, she screamed and the second orgasm hit. She had never felt anything like it before. Every fiber in her being was alive with sensation as her eyes glazed over and she saw flashes of light.

The two lovers rode each other up and down on the chair for what seemed like an eternity before they had bounced it up against the wall of the room and they looked at each other and Livie began giggling. Jean joined her and their laughter filled the room.

This was a night she would never forget.

When they had finally stopped moving and Jean began to lose his edge, so to speak, Livie slowly dismounted and stepped back, juices dripping and running down her lean, athletic thighs.

"I need to freshen up for a moment," she said. "But I'll be back," she added before grabbing her bag from the bed and strutting confidently into the bathroom as he watched her every move with rapt attention.

When Livie emerged from the bathroom, she had let her hair down – figuratively and literally. In addition to letting her soft brown hair fall about her shoulders, she was wearing some things that she had pulled from her bag. Gone were the strappy sandals and in their place were a pair of expensive black patent leather pumps with pointed toes and 5-inch stiletto heels. She wore black silk stockings with a seam that ran up the back to a black satin garter belt that coordinated perfectly with a little black satin push-up bra.

This was the sort of outfit Livie never would have dreamed of wearing a few months earlier, but now she had the confidence to pull it off – as Jean's wide smile and growing erection told her while he watched her sashay past the big four-poster toward him.

"Oooh, la la!" he said as Livie smiled and struck a wide-legged, hands-on-hips pose in front of him.

"Where were we?" she asked playfully as she went to him and put her arms around his neck.

"Right over here," Jean said as he suddenly lifted Livie in his arms and she laughed girlishly as he carried her to the right side of the bed.

Jean laid Livie on her back with her incredible legs dangling off the side of the bed. He knew exactly where he was going and she had a pretty good idea, too, as he leaned over her and kissed her taut tummy just above the top of her garter belt. As Livie bent both knees and spread her legs for him, Jean slowly worked his way downward until he was probing and caressing her with his tongue. Livie closed her eyes and grabbed the bedspread with both hands and held on tightly as her lover took her closer and closer to yet another orgasm, her soft panting and moaning attesting to his skill.

But then suddenly, his mouth was gone and his strong hands were lifting her legs. Jean positioned himself with Livie's legs draped over his shoulders at the knee and his own legs bent and spread wide before inching forward. This time he was inside her in a matter of moments as he slowly used his weight to gain leverage and push deeper.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Livie panted as he worked his way upward until the young beauty was fully impaled on his thick phallus and he paused.

"Yes?" he asked her hopefully.

"Oh, yes!" she said with a smile as she closed her eyes and shifted her hips to prepare for the coming onslaught, and then it began.

Jean threw his entire body into each deep, slow stroke as he worked in and out of Livie and she reached up for him, her hands brushing against the sinew of his sweat-covered chest. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" Livie gasped each time he filled her. She felt as if he were going deeper than she had ever been penetrated before with each piston-like thrust. Livie's eyes were open wide now as she began to lose her few remaining inhibitions with each of Jean's grunts and her own gasps and moans.

This time he was in total control as the hardening and thickening of his shaft that Livie now felt with each stroke told her. She was heating up quickly, but he was too far ahead of her and not showing any signs of slowing as he picked up his pace. Jean, his eyes closed and an intense expression on his face, pumped her furiously now, the volume of each slap of his body against hers increasing along with his grunts until she felt him swell up and then suddenly shoot another hot load into her. Livie squeezed him tightly and tried to milk every drop from his shaft as he emptied himself, but then her own orgasm hit her with surprising suddenness as she felt her long legs go stiff and her toes point skyward in her shoes above Jean's muscular shoulders. Her eyes fluttered and she spasmed and bucked beneath him uncontrollably as she came hard and their juices flowed freely onto the carpet next to the bed.

By the time Livie could open her eyes, Jean was gazing down at her with an eminently satisfied smile that told her she was getting the hang of this.

"You, Cherie, are incredible!" he said. "You have me under your spell."

She blushed just a little as he strained to lean over and reach her lips and they kissed.

Jean was still thick and nearly erect as he began to slowly withdraw from his young lover. But Livie wasn't done. His movement sent an aftershock through her as he stimulated her most sensitive flesh, and she reached up to stop him. "Wait!" she gasped, closing her eyes again as she tried to regain control. But he was growing softer by the second and felt cramps forming in both of his legs from his awkward position, so he quickly pulled himself out.

The final outward surge of his phallus was more than Livie's newly sensitized body could handle. Her legs fell from his shoulders and clamped tightly around his waist as another quaking, trembling orgasm rocked her and the bed. Jean leaned forward as much as he could to hold her in his arms as she moaned and dug her nails into his muscular back involuntarily. This time it lasted at least five minutes as she squeezed him with her toned legs and her hips bucked with each of her moans and pants before she finally slowed and a couple of tears trickled down her cheeks.

"Oh, Jean, I'm sorry ... I ... I've never felt anything like ... " she whispered.

"No, don't be sorry," he said with a smile. "I'm glad I can pleasure you in this way. It is what you deserve."

When Livie finally felt strong enough to sit up, she held him tightly and kissed him gently on the neck until Jean stepped back and said; "Now it's my turn to 'freshen up.' I'll be right back, I promise."

Livie smiled and looked at him adoringly as she leaned back on the bed dreamily. As she thought about what they'd just done and what she hoped they might still do on this night to remember, she couldn't have heard the soft splash above the sound of the fan in the bathroom. When the toilet flushed, her Blackberry rattled around inside the tank – where her lover had placed it – and then went dead.

When Jean returned from the bathroom, Livie had cleaned up a bit, but it was clear that she would need to do something with her stockings, which were wet and streaked with their juices. She quickly strode past him, kissing him and caressing his cheek on the way to freshen up herself.

When she emerged, wearing a fresh pair of sheer black stockings that were secured to the front garters but not the back, Jean was closing the drawer to the nightstand and holding a piece of black silk cord in his hands. Livie hesitated for a moment. Jean noted the look on her face and asked, "Do you trust me?"

"Of course, I trust you, Jean. You're the most amazing lover I've ever known," she said. "It's just that I've never ... "

"I understand, Cherie," he said, sounding more than a little bit disappointed. "If we do not yet have that level of trust, then ..."

"No, Jean, I do trust you," Livie said, moving closer to him and grabbing his right arm. "I'll show you."

And she turned away from him and extended both of her wrists together behind her back.

"Are you quite certain?" he asked hesitantly.

"Dead certain," Livie said. "You have me, body and soul."

"Then I must take you," Jean said ravenously as he reached forward and quickly looped the smooth cord around her wrists. "I will not hurt you, my love, but I must have you completely under my control if we are to go still further."

"I'm yours," Livie said softly as Jean pulled the cord tight and she gasped before he knotted it more than once.

As Jean fastened Livie’s back garters to her stockings, he whispered, "If you do not feel safe with me at any time, you must say a safe word and I will stop and untie your wrists.

"What word do you choose?"

Livie turned her head back toward him and looked into his eyes. "Rescue," she said softly.

"So be it," Jean said and he leaned forward to nibble at her long, lovely neck.

"How would you have me, my love?" Livie asked, getting into the spirit of the moment.

"Like zis," he said and he guided her toward the bed, pausing when her trembling knees were pressed against the side of the mattress.

Jean held Livie's bound wrists with his left hand and reached over with his right to grab each of the three pillows at the near side of the bed one by one before laying them in front of her lengthwise. Then, he eased her torso forward.

"Jean, I've never ... I mean, I'm not sure I can take you back there ... I'm a little bit afraid I ... " Livie said, concern growing in her voice at the thought of doing this, even with someone with whom she had already shared so much.

"Oh, no, Cherie! I would not do that to you," Jean said, trying to reassure her. "This is where I will go, with your permission," he said and he softly fingered her slit and she moaned her approval. When he took his hand away, Jean could feel her relax.

"Take me, Jean!" Livie said, closing her eyes and smiling. "I am yours – utterly and completely."

Jean slowly worked her legs farther apart with pressure from his own muscular thighs. As he leaned his body weight forward and pressed Livie down against the pillows and the mattress, he used his left hand to hold her bound wrists and his right to lift her tight little bottom and adjust the angle of entry.

Livie's breaths came rapidly as the anticipation built. Her lover leaned against her, pressing her further into the bed as he kissed her neck gently and repeatedly. He shifted his hips and bent his knees to position his engorged shaft in such a way that he could enter her as easily as possible. The added height provided by the 5-inch stiletto heels on Livie's black patent leather pumps paid dividends here, as Jean wondered how this would've worked if the petite beauty were standing in her stocking feet.

He really loved the way she looked in this outfit, especially the way her garters and stockings stretched as he bent her over in front of him. Her legs, lengthened by the daringly thin high heels, were absolutely incredible!

But Jean's focus turned back to the task at hand now that he had her at just the right angle. He wrapped his arms around her and grasped her small but firm breasts in his strong hands and pressed the tip of his shaft against her lips and began to slowly, ever so slowly, push forward. Livie gasped as he entered her again and she shifted her legs slightly to get used to the sensation of a man penetrating her from behind. It was not unpleasant, she decided, and she began to do her part by pushing backward against him.

"No, no, Cherie," Jean said softly, "I will lead. Just relax."

Livie tried, but it wasn't easy as her vaginal muscles tingled and trembled with each millimeter he advanced. She savored every moment as her soft moans attested until he finally achieved full penetration. But instead of pulling back out quickly and pumping her, Jean withdrew even more slowly than he had entered her this time. The sensation drove Livie wild! She tried to grind her hips to provide even more friction and resistance as Jean continued his slow retreat until all but the head of his shaft had left her. And then he resumed his slow inexorable advance.

"Please, my love, take me!" she cried softly after he had traveled the full length of her love canal three more times. "I can't hold out much longer and I want to feel you all the way inside me when I ...  oh, oh, OH!"

She was losing control now and Jean prepared himself. He moved his right hand slowly from the hard nipple he had been fondling and slid his hand slowly down her taut abdomen and around her hip and reached for the drawer of the nightstand to his right. It was almost time. Just a few more moments and she would be there.

Livie pushed her hips back against him as hard as she could in this vulnerable position and he felt her tiny trembling muscles squeeze him for all she was worth. Her back began to arch, vertebra by vertebra, as she reached for the peak of orgasm. Just as her mouth started to open, Jean suddenly pulled out of her with a wet popping sound and pulled something from the drawer with his right hand as he grabbed her bound wrists with his left. In an instant, the scream of bliss erupting from Livie's mouth was muffled by a wet washcloth that Jean shoved past her teeth. She began to buck and spasm as the orgasm rendered her unable to mount any type of resistance. He then reached back into the drawer and grabbed a long black silk scarf that he quickly pulled between her teeth, then doubled back around the front to cover Livie's frightened face from nose to chin before he tied it off securely in the back as she kicked wildly with both legs.

Jean pressed the full weight of his body onto her as she thrashed about and mmmppphhhed into the thick gag, panic overtaking the sexual bliss to which he had led her so adroitly. She turned her head to try to look back at him for some explanation as she fought the orgasm, but he just pushed her down against the mattress.

"Is this just part of a bondage game?" Livie hoped desperately. As she caught a glimpse of the coldness that now filled her lover's eyes, Livie noticed a small scar that ran through his left eyebrow. And then he was pushing her legs apart again with his thighs, and her eyes widened with fear as the tip of his once-again-erect shaft now pressed not against her slit but between her trembling ass cheeks.

"I will have all of you," Jean whispered in her left ear as he grasped her hips and thrust forward savagely with all his weight.

Even the thick gag could not completely muffle the scream that came from somewhere deep in Livie's soul.

***

As Lady Penelope sat at her laptop reading the latest Interpol and International Rescue Intel from Mumbai, the buzzing of her pink Blackberry told her that one of the few people who knew her personal contact info had text her. She had slept fitfully for a few hours, but had awakened as she so often did, and decided to do some work. The first thing she naturally thought of was that this was an urgent message from Jeff Tracy or someone else at International Rescue, but then she thought happily, "No, I'll bet it's Livie!" And it was.

Lady Penelope had her Blackberry programmed so that every time a friend or colleague called, her favorite picture of that person would appear on the screen. Her favorite image of Livie was one taken a couple of weeks earlier in Hyde Park. Her friend was standing and holding a couple of her favorite texts in her arms and smiling that innocent smile of hers. But what Penelope really loved about the picture was what it showed her looking as stylish and confident as the International Rescue agent had seen her up to that point. Livie's hair was done in a romantic up-do and her makeup was perfect. She was wearing an ivory boiled-wool jacket over a black silk turtleneck. The colors coordinated perfectly with her black-and-ivory tartan plaid miniskirt, which buttoned up the front. Her lovely legs were covered in black matte tights and she wore a pair of black suede high-heeled wingtip oxfords. It was a look that showed her personality and her growing confidence and sexiness, qualities Penelope enjoyed seeing in her friend and traits that would make her quite an agent.

She then clicked on the photo and text came up on the screen:

PENELOPE

FOLLOW THIS LINK (www.geocities.com/LivieLive/8150) AND SIGN IN AS PENELOPE, PASSWORD RESCUE, ASAP.

WE NEED TO TALK!

LIVIE

Lady Penelope quickly turned on her Web cam, opened a new screen on her secure browser, keyed in the URL and entered her sign-in and password. The page loaded very slowly, taking nearly a minute until she finally had a picture. It was one that chilled her to the bone.

The hair color and length were different and so were the eyes, but the thin scars in the left eyebrow and at the right corner of his mouth, which was grinning sadistically from ear to ear, left no doubt as to who was on the other end of the Web cast: Philippe Chatrier.

Penelope's mind raced ahead in a mild panic. "Oh, God, please don't let him have Livie!" she thought. "Maybe he just used her name and some info about her to get me onto this Web cast, whatever it may be."

But her worst fears were realized.

"I should think I need no introduction," Philippe said with a smile, his French accent less pronounced than when Penelope last heard him speak in the clock tower at Charring Abbey School months earlier. He then popped out his blue-tinted contact lenses and leaned in toward the Web cam so that his face filled the screen.

"An introduction, no, but some manners, yes," Penelope said through gritted teeth. "What do you want, Philippe?"

"I want you, of course, Penny," he said. "But first, you should say hello to our mutual friend, Livie."

"You bastard!" Penelope spat out, her practiced cool and calm exterior gone now as she feared for her friend. "What have you done with her?"

"She's right over here," Philippe said, taking the Web cam from its mount on his laptop on the writing desk and walking a few steps before panning down onto the gagged, terrified face of Livie Strauss. "Say hello, Livie."

All the poor young woman could do was mmmppphhh and toss her head from side to side as a thick black scarf covered her face from nose to chin.

"Damn you to hell, Philippe!" Penelope shouted. "She's done nothing to you. This is between you and me. Let her go!"

"You are so right, Penny, she has done nothing to me. It is what I have done to her," Philippe said as he now looked into the Web cam with a Cheshire cat grin. "I, or should I say Professor Jean Beliveau, took her to all of the places I wished to take you back at your old school, plus a few she never dreamed of."

"You will pay for this, I can assure you!" Penelope said sternly.

"No, Penny, it is you who will pay or Livie pays with her life," he said, with Livie mmmppphhhing loudly in the background. "Allow me to show you."

Philippe focused the Web cam back on Livie's tear-streaked face, then he slowly panned up her right arm, which was stretched high above her head and to the side as every muscle strained, until he paused for a moment to show the black silk cord that was coiled tightly around her wrist. The skin was rubbed raw and almost bleeding from Livie's struggles. The Web cam then moved up past her fingers, which were splayed out and clawing desperately at the taut cord that could now be seen running out for a few feet until it reached the headboard of the bed where it was tied securely to a bed post. Philippe panned over to the other corner of the headboard, then back down to show that Livie's left wrist was similarly bound.

Lady Penelope was almost shaking now with anger and with fear for her friend as she watched the terrible scene unfolding before her on her laptop screen. A tear formed in Penelope's left eye as the Web cam showed Livie's face again, her big brown eyes full of fear and pain as she whimpered softly.

Things would only get worse as the camera panned downward over the little black satin push-up bra Livie had bought earlier that day at Coco de Mer – her small, firm breasts heaving with each shallow breath – past her taut abdominal muscles and in a tighter shot now down her right leg past her black satin garter belt and over the toned muscles of her lean right thigh, knee and shapely calf, sheathed in a sheer black silk stocking. The Web cam paused at her ankle, where another black silk cord secured the inside of her leg to the outside of the bedpost. The cord was looped at least three times around her ankle and at least that many times around the post before it was tied off with numerous small knots. Livie flexed her feet repeatedly in the pointed toes of her patent leather stiletto-heeled pumps, but no other movement of her legs was possible.

More tears flowed down Lady Penelope's cheeks as she thought about the terrible predicament her friend had been placed in because of her as Philippe then panned down to the floor before pointing the Web cam at Livie's left ankle and leg to show that it was similarly bound. Penelope could hear her friend mmmppphhhing anew and tried to maintain control of her emotions and formulate some sort of plan, knowing full well that Philippe would use Livie to ensnare her in his trap.

"All right, Philippe," Lady Penelope said, trying to sound calm for her friend's sake. "What would you have me do to gain Livie's freedom?"

"Why I would have you die, of course, Penny," he said with a laugh. "But first, if you want to see your friend alive again, you will follow my instructions precisely."

"Agreed," Penelope said.

"I will send you satellite GPS coordinates on your handheld and you will go to that location, where you will receive further coordinates," Philippe said as he now stared into the Web cam and he watched Penelope's face on his laptop screen, enjoying her reactions. "After you have moved around a bit and I am satisfied that you are alone and are not being followed, I will eventually bring you to me."

"And then you'll release Livie?" Penelope asked.

"It all depends," Philippe said, "on whether you – How do you say? – hold up your end of the bargain."

"You know me well enough, unfortunately, to know that I always honour my word," she said.

"And if you do not," Philippe said, "or if something should happen to me and I am not able to return to this hotel room before the housekeeping staff arrives in the morning, well ... let me show you."

The Web cam picture then panned along the floor of the room to the door to the hallway, where Philippe zoomed in on a thin wire that was attached to the handle. Lady Penelope's heart pounded and rose into her throat as the Web cam followed the wire through a metal eye bolt that had been attached to the door frame and then through the air across the room to ... Penelope closed her eyes for a moment, afraid of what she was about to see. At the footboard of the bed, the Web cam panned slowly upward to a large metal vise clamp that was securely attached and to the polished wood stock of a gun that was held there. The wire was tied taut around the trigger of the shotgun along which the Web cam now panned, quickly moving along the length of the polished barrel ... until it disappeared between the wide-spread legs of Livie Strauss!

"You sick, evil bastard!" Penelope shouted through her tears as the Web cam now panned from where at least four inches of the shotgun barrel were squeezed inside her poor friend, then up her torso for another look at her frightened face.

As Philippe pulled back with the Web cam, it became apparent that poor little Livie was tied in such a taut spread-eagle position that her torso was suspended in the air a few inches above some pillows that had been used to prop her up at some point during her ordeal. The bound beauty was constantly shifting her hips the little she could in a vain attempt to either dislodge the deadly shotgun barrel that penetrated her so grotesquely or at least to find a slightly less painful position in her erotic peril as lubricant dripped from where the barrel parted her lips onto the bed below. But it was plain for Penelope to see that Livie was doomed if the hotel room door were to open.  

"If you think this is sick, wait until you see what I have in mind for you, Penny," Philippe said with obvious relish. "I have been planning for our reunion since our less-than-amicable parting, and when I saw how close you and Livie had become, I simply had to make her a part of the plan."

"I swear that if anything else happens to her, I will personally see you ... punished," Penelope said, barely able to contain the anger in her voice.

"Temper, temper, Penny," Philippe said with a smirk as he held up a cell phone. "I need only call room service and have some champagne delivered to this room and it will all be over now," and he pushed the call button on the phone. Penelope could hear it ringing.

"NO! NO! I will do as you say!" she shouted.

"That is more like it," Philippe said as he canceled the call. "Now it is time for you to begin your journey to me. I'm sending the first set of GPS coordinates to you now, but being a sporting man, I will give you a few minutes for you to get dressed -- and do wear something nice for me -- and get to your car before the 20-minute countdown begins. Then I will leave through the adjoining room, which I also booked for the night. If you are not at the coordinates in 25 minutes, I will complete my call to room service.

"Au revoir, Penny. We will be together again very soon."

Lady Penelope decided that time was of the essence, so she quickly threw on the outfit she'd worn to lunch with Livie, but substituted a pair of pink suede ballet flats for the stiletto-heeled ankle boots in case she needed to run. Luckily – or perhaps unluckily if it turned out that she needed help – she'd given Parker the night off so that he could make the trip to Manchester to watch his beloved Liverpool take on Man U in an early-afternoon match the next day at Old Trafford.

She opted not to take the Fab One, instead grabbing the keys to the white Jaguar that she drove on occasion. As she slipped into the pink leather bucket seat on the driver's side, she mounted her pink Blackberry in a bracket on the dashboard and looked the GPS as the garage door opened smoothly.

Lady Penelope spent the next 90 minutes racing around the countryside from one landmark to another at Philippe's whim before she finally found herself pulling into a seemingly deserted warehouse in a less-than-fashionable section of London. Once her car pulled inside, the door noisily closed behind her. Philippe obviously knew she was here, but where was he and, more importantly, where was Livie? 

As she stepped from the car, her Blackberry buzzed again. This time it was a phone call.

"Yes?" she answered, using a pink Bluetooth headset that she'd put in her left ear just in case.

"Can you not be a bit more polite toward an old friend, Penny?" Philippe asked.

"I've done what you asked," she responded curtly. "I'm here. You have me. Now release Livie."

"Not so fast," he said. "Yes, you have honoured your word, but there are still many things to do before I am through with your little friend. Walk straight ahead 50 meters or so and open the door to the office, step inside, close the door and wait for further instructions," he commanded, enjoying the power he held over Lady Penelope.

"Very well," she said as she hurried to the office and opened the door. As she stepped inside and closed the door, a dead-bolt lock of some kind sealing it automatically behind her, she saw a table and a chair in the middle of the room. On the table were some knotted ropes, a hypodermic needle containing a cloudy white liquid and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cotton swab.

"What now?" she asked, speaking to Philippe through the headset. He obviously was watching her on some type of concealed camera or cameras.

"First, you must inject yourself with the drug in the needle; I would recommend in the upper arm or the thigh," Philippe said. "And of course, use the rubbing alcohol. I wouldn't want you to get an infection."

"What is it?" Penelope asked suspiciously of the needle.

"A little cocktail that in a few minutes will make you more cooperative – for a little while, at least – but it will do no permanent damage as I want you fully aware of what I am going to do to you," he said ominously.

Knowing she had no choice if she hoped to save her friend, Lady Penelope reluctantly took off her pink-and-white tweed jacket, rolled up the left sleeve of her white cashmere turtleneck and injected herself with the drug. She felt a warm tingling flow from her arm up into her neck, but there were no other obvious effects.

"Very well done, Penny," Philippe said. "Now for the fun part of this little game. Take the ropes from the table and sit in the chair, then loop the longer of the two ropes – the one without any knots – tightly around your ankles and tie it with two half-hitches, if you please."

"Do I have any choice?" Penelope asked.

"Not if you want to see Livie alive again," Philippe responded.

She sat in the chair, bent forward and began tying the rope as she had been instructed.

"Yes, very nice!" Philippe said. "Now, the other rope has been pre-tied, so you must slip it around one wrist, then put both wrists behind your back, slip the other wrist into the loop that has been tied and pull your wrists apart. My knots will do the rest."

Penelope did as instructed, although it was becoming much harder to move with any speed or coordination as the drug in her bloodstream began to take effect. She sat and waited for the next instruction, although she wasn't sure what else she could do in her present state.

She found it hard to focus her eyes until she heard the lock on the door click and the bolt open as Philippe entered the room.

"So good to see you again, Penny!" he said as he stepped before her and leaned forward, looking into her now-glazed blue eyes. "I can see that the drug has had the desired effect on you, but I must move quickly before the small dose I gave you wears off. There is so much to see and do."

In a flash, Philippe had reached down, lifted his captive in his strong arms and slung her body face-first over his left shoulder. Penelope's muscles were like rubber, and her mind wandered as the drug clouded her thoughts. She was back in the secret garden at Charring Abbey where she and Philippe had shared some intimate moments. The sensations that came back to her were pleasant at first, but then she was back in the clock tower where Philippe had stretched her beyond her limits in his makeshift erotic deathtrap. And now, as her mind cleared again, she was thinking about Livie and what Philippe had already done to her and could yet do.

She was being carried down a couple of flights of stairs to the basement of the warehouse. Philippe pushed open a door and took her to a metal straight-backed chair in the middle of a dimly-lit room. He quickly tied her bound wrists to the back of the chair and secured her ankles with rope run from one of the front legs of the chair to the other. He left her for a moment to close and bolt the door to the room securely before turning on some lights.

The room was still relatively dark; especially the area in front of her, but Penelope could see a table and a laptop computer on it to her right. And in the still shadowy area in front of her, she thought she could make out at least two and maybe more large-screen televisions mounted on the wall about 15-20 feet away.

Philippe walked to the table, leaned over the laptop and his fingers almost flew over the keys. Then he picked up a small remote-control device of some kind and walked toward Lady Penelope.

"It is time to set the rest of my plan for you – and for Livie – in motion," he said, and he pushed a button on the remote.

The wall in front of Penelope came to life. She was still foggy from the drug, but not so foggy that she wasn't sickened by what she saw. There were nine large high-definition TVs grouped together on the wall so that they could form one huge image, and the image they showed brought fresh tears to her eyes. The nine screens combined to show a close-up of the face of Livie Strauss, still gagged and mmmppphhhing with all her might. Philippe had obviously set up a remote camera in the hotel room where Penelope's friend was in mortal peril.

Philippe smiled at Penelope's reaction, then pushed another button on the remote. He hadn't just set up one camera in the hotel room, he had set up nine, each showing Livie's perilous predicament from a different angle. Among the horrific images that came to life before Penelope's eyes were camera angles taken from across the room, from next to the bed looking down on Livie's frightened face (the close-up), from the foot of the bed pointed directly down the barrel of the shotgun and tight on the door handle where the wire was attached. Penelope shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs or to wake herself from this unfolding nightmare as she heard Livie whimpering anew through speakers that seemed to be all around her Ladyship in the room.

"Look!" Philippe shouted suddenly as he took her chin in his hand and held it up so that she had to see what was on the TV screens. "This is what you did to your friend when you betrayed me!"

"No ... Philippe ... you .. this .. was you ... “Penelope mumbled, fighting the effects of the drug.

"Bitch!" he shouted and slapped her, losing control again.

The blow actually helped Penelope shake off some of the effects of the drug, but clarity was not a blessing but a curse now as she watched more closely while Livie's fate played out before her.

"You have me," Penelope said, her mind clearing more with each passing moment. "Call the hotel and tell them to go through the adjoining room and free her. It's me you want, not her."

"Yes, I want you more," Philippe said, "but I can have you both – I have had Livie already – and I plan to enjoy this fully. There is no escape for either of you."

Penelope then noticed something she hadn't earlier on one of the screens. It was morning as daylight streamed through a window into Livie's room at the hotel. But what time was it? How soon would someone come to make the bed and clean the room? Philippe watched her reaction and noticed the dawning recognition on her face of what he was going to allow to happen.

"No, Philippe, no!" Penelope screamed. "Stop this now! It's sick! Pick up the bloody phone and STOP THIS!"

"Why should I?" he asked. "Why should I?"

"Because I'll do anything if you'll let her live," Penelope pleaded. "Anything!"

"You will do things you cannot imagine before I am through with you this day, Penny," he said scornfully, "but first I will enjoy this," and he turned away from her to watch Livie in high-definition.

"Philippe, I can give you money, I can give you a new identity, the resources of International Rescue ... I can ... " Penelope implored him, desperately trying to save her friend's life.

"Wait!" he said suddenly. "Shut up!"

But Penelope continued, "No! You must listen ... “And then she was silenced as he clamped his right hand over her mouth and then knelt behind her chair with the remote control in his left hand.

"Listen," Philippe whispered as he hit a button on the remote.

The volume increased dramatically and voices could be heard. It was the maids in the hall outside the rooms! Penelope prayed silently that they would go into the adjoining room first and somehow find Livie in time.

"I'm so tired o' cleaning up after all these bloody rich bastards," a Cockney female voice muttered.

"Keep your voice down, Edith," another female voice said. "You don't want to be losin' this job."

"Bollocks," Edith said in a slightly lower tone. "I'll wager this room's a mess. Night manager said there was a loud racket up 'ere last night. But it's me job, isn't it."

Philippe eagerly pressed a button on the remote and all nine screens switched to the camera showing the door handle from inside the room.

"Housekeepin’!" Edith bellowed.

Livie could be heard mmmppphhhing furiously.

The maid banged on the door.

“’ousekeepin’!" she said again.

Philippe quickly switched to a nine-screen close-up of Livie again. Those big doe eyes of hers were wide with fear. She knew exactly what was happening as she mmmppphhhed and struggled frantically.

"Zis is it!" Philippe said excitedly. "ZIS IS IT!"

He pressed a button on the remote again and the screens switched back to the door handle.

Everything moved in slow motion.

The key card was being inserted.

A small light on the door turned green.

The handle turned.

The door was slightly ajar.

Philippe used the remote to quickly toggle back and forth between the door and Livie's face on all nine screens as tears streamed down her face.

He suddenly switched to a wide shot as she stopped her struggles and tensed every muscle in her beautiful young body.

Then he went back to Livie's exquisite face and zoomed in just as a sound like a muffled thunder clap shattered the momentary silence, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and the screens went black.

As Philippe's hand moved away from her mouth, Penelope's anguished scream echoed throughout the deserted warehouse.

***

“Ah, Mon Cherie do not be so, what is ze word, ah yes, despondent. The anguish you feel at the loss of Mademoiselle Strauss I feel as well. After all, she was a more-than-adequate lover, but in this game we are playing, sometimes one must sacrifice a pawn to get to the queen,” he grinned in a most loathsome manner. 

“You’re truly insane Philippe, a most repugnant man. Nothing you can do to me could be worse than what you have just done,” Penelope shot back.

“Ah, Mon Cherie, do you not give me more credit zan zat? I have something just as deadly planned for you, only so much more personal zan what you have just seen and so much more pleasurable, well for me anyway, but Mon Cherie I zink zat you will enjoy it for a short while at least before I, how should I put it, overwhelm you with zee passion of zee moment,” Philippe explained with a smile that went ear to ear.

“I highly doubt that. Remember, I have firsthand, so to speak, knowledge of what size of passion you possess,” Lady Penelope said with a wry smile crossing her face at the word play.

“Ah, yes, the English sense of humour. How very clever. Stiff upper lip and all that, as you people say. Even in ze face of danger, you mock me. However, I also know something about you, Penelope, something you keep inside you, deep inside you. Something you are afraid to unleash, and that is the thing that will allow me victory over you,” Philippe posed.

“Please do. Your fantasy should be played out in full. After all this is your moment of triumph. Enjoy it while it lasts,” her Ladyship quipped.

“You have a dark side, a very, how should I put this, bad girl enjoys bad things, all of an erotic nature. But you are too afraid to try zem out. You are even too afraid to admit zem to yourself, but I know and soon I will help escort you through that door and into that world for a very real experience and you will be powerless to stop me, because, simply, you will not want me to, even though you know zee end result is your death. Twisted, no? But zen you English, well, repressed is the kindest word I can come up with,” Philippe charmed. 

Penelope put forth a brave quizzical face as Philippe explained away her psyche to her, a face that dared him to elaborate and he could not resist.

“Remember our encounter in your secret garden when I tied your arms behind your back? Your face, Mon Cherie, was so alive! Your eyes pooled larger and larger and a deeper blue than I thought was possible! Yes, Lady Penelope you where aroused by the bindings. You should admit it, for soon I will prove it to you once again. It was zat reflection that crystallized for me how I would finish you in the most cruel way possible. A man you hate and despise, moi, yet you cannot resist as your carnal instincts and sexual appetites dominate you. I will have the victory on two fronts, body and mind. But speaking candidly, I prefer ze body,” he chuckled as he undid the ropes about the metal but kept them secured about the lovely and dangerous International Rescue agent.

An effortless scoop of his strong arms folded Lady Penelope into a cradle and carried her through a small passageway and toward a brightly lit room. To his great surprise, the aristocrat never struggled or flailed in the least. In fact, she seemed to settle in. Philippe put this off to the drug still coursing inside her, but he had second thoughts on that as he placed her down and she licked his arms and offered a small nip.

Philippe felt his pulse quicken at the touch and his prong tingle. He forced himself to focus as he went to work securing her in a specially designed chair. One half of a handcuff closed around each of her ankles and wrists, the other was fastened to the frame of the chair. When he had finished, Philippe looked up and smiled. 

“You see, my English sex kitten, you cannot help yourself. The fetish is too strong for you. Allow me to increase it with an explanation of zis device and what it does. The frame itself is one piece, but the parts, such as the arms and the individual leg holders, are separate, allowing them to move independently. Zay are on springs, counter springs to be exact. Certain amounts of pressure and movement force them into action. I think you can guess what I am referring to,” he smiled like a hungry wolf.

“Sexual, I hope,” Lady Penelope said as she arched her body out of the chair, undulating her hips and pulling at the handcuffs with a frantic, wanton look on her face.

Philippe had dreamed it would be like this, but having it happen nearly forced a premature accident. He just managed to gain control before continuing.

“Each time you climax, your body will trigger ze springs located on ze arm and leg rests, forcing them away from your body. Ze net affect of which is to pull you taut in such a manner as to open you up to literally body-shattering orgasms until eventually your extremities are twisted so far from your body that you are pulled apart in one final killer climax. Now, speaking of those extremities I think it is time to display zem,” he said.

Philippe retrieved a sterling silver knife that caught a gleam in the lights off its edge and he smiled as he hovered over her before holding the cuff of one pants leg and threading the knife into the fabric that slit under the sharpness of the surgical steel blade. Philippe watched her eyes widen her neck arch up and small gasps of air escape as the blade rose over her knee and up her thigh.   He watched her body tense as he came closer to her hips, then through the top. The blade then traced around her mound, it twitched and twisted in response before Philippe ran down the other leg.

The rake gave the blade a rest as he removed her ballet flats and caressed her ultra slim ankles in the grip of both palms. Languidly his hands slid up her legs, his fingers splayed and traveled about her calves, feeling their paradoxical firmness and softness. The fabric fell away below her knees and he continued up Penelope’s firm, well-toned thighs and around her equally impressive small derriere, where his hands slipped under the softest silk he had ever felt, but even it paled in comparison to the silky warm feel of her skin. Philippe watched Penelope exhale in a shallow breath as he caressed her, then hooked a finger into each side of her French silk panties and pulled them down to just below her mound as Lady Penelope gasped in lust in spite if herself as he knew she would. The assassin wound down the other leg in a slow snaking swirl of warm hands and warm skin. Penelope goose-bumped in lust at his touch and he grew hard from the touch of her in his hands. He reached her ankle and the hem as her pants were discarded to the floor leaving him to gaze at the most superb set of legs he had ever seen. 

“Please, no more. Please, Philippe!” Penelope panted in embarrassment.

“Oh, no, Mon Cherie. So much more awaits. I have just slightly raised the curtain on zis little show, but we still have a veil in ze way I see,” he said picking up the knife again.

Penelope tensed as the blade approached her paradise. Then Philippe suddenly stopped.

“Merde!  I almost forgot,” he said reaching into his pocket and fishing out a remote and pushing a button. 

From out of the ceiling descended a full-length mirror, and as it lowered Lady Penelope could see the angle was set for her to see all that Philippe was doing. She closed her eyes in refusal, but forced them open, unable to withstand her dark desires.

“Just as he predicted!” her mind screamed even as she looked on at the knife on the lace of her pink panty edge. 

Philippe made a slight cut, then laid down the knife and slowly bent over Penelope, a wicked smile growing on his face with each second of lowering until it disappeared and his teeth gripped one edge of the cut fabric and began to gently tug it away from the other. 

All noise fell away in the room for Penelope except for his ever-shallowing breath and the ripping, thread by erotic thread, of the silk as he tore away the veil of protection from her womanhood and she secretly was enthralled with the tactic, especially when his hot breath expelled damp and moist onto her pubic mound and sent the hairs shooting upright in search of ever more humid air.  She twitched and jerked and rattled the wrist and ankle restraints in a clanging manner that went unnoticed as she heard another thread tear away. Philippe let his grip relax and slip away before reaching back for a better mouthful, his tongue calculatingly lapped several times over her lips before seizing the material and ripping it away!

“Oh, yessssss!!!” Penelope moaned as she fought for air while the orgasm overtook her, deep and rumbling it rolled up her quaking body as her head rocked side to side. She felt the springs give just a little, nothing to be concerned about, and in truth she didn’t care. She wanted more, darker and deeper, to feed her fetish.

“Oh, yes, Mon Cherie! Zere is more coming,” Philippe said as he watched her panties settle on the floor and he picked up the knife to resume. And Lady Penelope was happy he did. 

Next to go were the buttons on her stylish jacket snapped off with such force that they ricocheted off the wall and danced across the floor in a noisy procession. Philippe cut away and disposed of the jacket quickly to get to the real prize, the tight, clinging sweater and Lady Penelope’s perfectly shaped orbs.  He could hardly maintain his composure as the round end of the knife contacted her skin and started up, cutting away the material in one smooth motion. 

Penelope swore the blade was heated as she felt a flame burn into her skin from the trace. Her nipples swelled and hardened as she moaned and gasped in encouragement.

“You have a keen blade Philippe, sharp and expertly handled,” she panted as he finished the cut up the centre of her chest and flicked the material off to the sides, exposing her French lace bra.   

The tormentor guided the blade up the firm rift valley her perfectly wonderful orbs created and sliced the blade through the material freeing Lady Penelope’s breasts.  No help from his implement was needed to push the material aside; her swelling and heavy chest did the task for him.

“C’est magnifique!” he said in a low voice as he caught his breath and the pupils in his eyes came slowly back to normal. “I must say, Lady Penelope, you are all and more zan I imagined you’d be on zat day I held you in ze secret garden,” he complimented as the blade slice away the remaining fabric and left her Ladyship naked before him. 

Philippe wasted no time discarding his clothes, Lady Penelope could more than see he was ready. 

“C’est magnifique aussi!” she answered as she starred at his prong. 

Philippe moved the foot of the chair and pushed a button that started to lower the chair evenly downward until he was able to walk up between the legs of the International Rescue Agent.  He pushed the button again and the chair began to rise up as he straddled her until his monument came in contact with her yoni.  

“Now, mon cherie, we come to ze dénouement, well one of zem anyway, you will have many from now on.  I found zis little gem in Marseille at the Bibliothèque nationale de France in ze very rare and I should say dusty archives, forgotten to all. The title of zhe manuscript was ‘Femme Erotic du Morte’ written by none other that the Marquis de Sade.  In just one page it details ze entire peril you now find yourself in along with ze chair, a most detailed diagram for which I’m thankful as I was then able to reproduce it perfectly.  You are ze first woman on whom it shall be used. Ah, yes I can see by your eyes, yes zere have been others, but not with zis chair, mon cherie. No zat honour is for you alone,” Philippe smiled as his stiff rod caressed her moist sex. 

“I am honoured,” Penelope said as she bit her lip trying to distract herself from getting too excited again.  

“Ze Marquis was a genius, unsettled emotionally, but a genius.  Zis death trap works on the female on several levels.  While it twists you, zat motion helps to stimulate you so you desire more twisting. Eventually, ze female loses all control and zen becomes dominated by ze actions of her male executioner.  From zat point on ze woman is finished and ze male is free to toy with her for as long as he wants.  Oh, yes, my sweet, because of ze positioning of you in ze chair at no point can you induce me into climax and weaken me so I cannot complete my mission.  I think zat last part is most regrettable as I’m sure ze effects you could have on my body and mind are quite formidable, but ze Marquis has taken the one weapon in your arsenal away from you,” he noted with a deadly smile. 

All the while during his speech Philippe was stroking his stem back and forth on her pussy. Even that little touch seemed to have a more than effective exaltation on Lady Penelope as she writhed in delight.  Penelope willed the soft tendrils of her bush to stretch up in a soft caress and enfold his snake in her grip, an inescapable folic embrace and then pull him into her honeyed well of delight.  Philippe watched as he toyed with her. It was just as it had been with the girl he had practiced on; the victim actually encouraged the trap to advance, just as the Marquis had explained in the manuscript. 

Philippe waited and waited until Penelope was on the edge of desire before he rocked back, arched up and thrust forward with pinpoint accuracy, his arrow hitting her soft yielding target dead centre.  Her Ladyship quivered violently, arched back and racked her hands and feet, the metallic shackles rattling on their bindings in a clash of sound. 

“Ohhh, finally!” she moaned as her form tensed in orgasm, her rigid body supporting both their weights as she bucked and thrashed her body in an uncontrollable whirlwind of madness that nearly took Philippe along for the ride despite his assurances she could not seduce him. However, he recovered, just, then set about inducing her into a deeper state of pleasure, his tool moving with snakelike fluidity inside her, its cylindrical shape moving into her deepest recesses and probing out her darkest desires. 

Her Ladyship sunk into the black water of her desires and let them submerge her.  Philippe enjoyed every moment of his triumph, the expression of lost bliss on Penelope’s face, the movement of his deadly restraining device on her diabolically sexy body, the small beads of perspiration that began to dot her body from the constant stimulation he had her under, the moans of pleasure and the shallow breaths she filled the air with, all sweet and deadly as he thrust and churned slowly away. 

The chair methodically began to twist its segments, and with it her as well.  A constant regimen of yoga, Pilates and martial arts aided her at first, but soon even the supple International Rescue Agent was beginning to feel the strain on certain body parts. 

“You have endured well to this point, mon cherie. My previous test subject did not make it past six orgasms and you have managed eight. Your body and mind are truly magnifique. It is, however, becoming a much more confining situation and ee tauter ze body ze more you will feel my endless probe stimulating you to madness and death,” Philippe taunted as he changed and slowed his motion, driving an already maddened Penelope even higher as her new position allowed him to kindle new zones of passion inside her.

Penelope could indeed still feel him most effectively in spite of her multiple climaxes and she understood why.  The chair pulled her hips out slightly at first, but then proceeded to rotate down and back in upon themselves, something like a semi-circular motion. This allowed her paradise to stay contracted from the pressure and offer Philippe the maddeningly effective friction he needed to drive her deeper into the peril.  Philippe did his part most wonderfully, his monument a sea of ever-churning, eve- shifting pleasure for her.  Penelope moaned and bucked again as she came so easily under his spell. This time she felt the pain of the chair as it moved and she no longer was able to move with it. 

“I see we have reached ze end of your elasticity, your Ladyship,” Philippe smiled as he drove into her with renewed zeal.

Penelope panted, hot and sexily energized in response to the motion, her body racing to match his pace. Philippe knew she was now and truly lost to the peril. He leaned forward and cupped her firm orbs with his hands.   Penelope’s mouth opened and she emitted a barely audible yes as her tongue licked her lips.  Philippe matched his thrusting motion with a massage of her breast and tender combing of her nipples between the soft tips of his fingers, the motion spurring Penelope to the summit of her carnal desires as she came frantically and dangerously long in duration.  Her body subjected itself to a long and constant pull of the chair from all the myriad of angles it had at its disposal.  In the end, her moans of joy were replaced with groans of pain and winces of torment on her lovely face. 

“We have entered ze end game, mon cherie. I shall always remember zis moment, as will millions of people once I post ze video.  Think of ze notoriety zat will bring me, not to mention ze satisfaction of killing International Rescue’s most accomplished and beautiful agent,” he said in an angry voice as his hips jack-hammered into her, his motion actually forcing the chair into motion and drawing Lady Penelope deeper into its orgasmic clutches as she screamed and climaxed again. Her body was on fire from passion and strain, every sinew of her wondrously sexy form caught in pain and pleasure at the same time. 

Philippe arched up and drove deep into her, her position in the chair allowing penetration and contact to a level she had never experienced before.  The aristocrat, still determined to resist, found enough will to arch her hips up and meet his challenge; she bit her lip in pain as she rolled her hips back and forth taking his prong on a swaying boat ride. 

The ride was too much for Philippe; his hands lost their purpose and shook freely on her breasts, the motion actually stimulating her more than his other.  Penelope came a final fantastic time, her screaming filling the chamber as she wrung everything out of it that she could.  Short, sharp tilts of her pelvis rubbed the shaft of his cock and her perfectly.  A final scream and he collapsed onto her chest his head pushing her arms up to her ears as his hips jerked out the last bit of pleasure they could. 

Penelope closed her hands around the only things Philippe had left her wearing, her platinum dangling earrings and pulled one off.  With a careful delicate series of motions she turned various sections of the earring, locking them together, then with equally deft finesse the agent inserted one end into the keyhole of the handcuff and turned, a much anticipated clicking sound met her ears as it opened.  It took a little time and effort, but Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward escaped the chair and the pressing weight of Philippe on her.  Her final effort turning him over so he slumped in the chair, looking up at her as she straddled him a sexy smile crossing her face. 

“You’re not the only person who spends time in forgotten dusty stacks of books and manuscripts Philippe.  In this case, I have a friend to thank for that. She stumbled across it in the Archives of Parliament while looking for something else.  I happen to be a friend, but we keep that out of the public eye for the moment for various reasons.  At any rate, the said document was written by a Lady Winterbourne, who was a spy for the English during the French Revolution, the same time the Marquis de Sade had a minor position with the provisional government in Paris and as an aside was helping them round up foreign agents.  It seems Lady Winterbourne was captured and placed in his infamous chair, but managed to escape after many hours just as I did.  Besides being lovely to look at, Lady Winterbourne was highly skilled and well read in matters of, well, shall we say carnal pleasure, something she found most useful as a spy. She had read a treatise on such a device in China from the 12^th century, ironically at the same library you found yours from the Marquis.  She, however, never had a chance to return hers as she was captured a week later; however, she had already managed to send it back to her home in England after studying it carefully.

“The Marquis put her in the chair and began her torment, unaware the woman knew a secret he didn’t, a secret she had to wait several hours to unveil and endure his device and him for that period.  What the manuscript explained in detail was how a female could escape the trap by using her paradise as an agent of heavenly sensory overload.  Just because the male can’t orgasm when tormenting the female doesn’t mean that the sensations aren’t there; they are simply held behind a wall away from nerve endings that would set off the climax.  You see the Marquis had the male version of how the device worked. Had he known – indeed, had anyone known of the counter move, written by a female, and therefore lost in dust and forgotten to male history – he never would have re-created or used the device in the first place. 

“By subtle and dangerously damaging moves, all masked within the element that the female is lost in the sexual peril of the males dominance over her, the woman gently releases the levers and snakes of her trap and closes around the male in the natural order of climax.  Because the trap is designed to let the male orgasm at the end when the female dies from his final thrusts, all the woman need do is release him one climax before her final one and thus overwhelm his senses much like water bursting a dam overwhelms  the land below.  The male cannot control the rate of the flow of ecstasy as the female now has control of it. She, through subtle, supple moments of her hips crashes it all into his nervous system at once, thus rendering the male catatonic for several hours and ensuring her escape if she is a woman of sufficient means.  Lady Winterbourne used a decorative hair comb the Marquis left on her and, well, times have progressed a bit. You left me with my earrings that, when turned certain ways, lock together and become a skeleton key lock-picking device,” Lady Penelope explained as she smiled a deadly smile, then made for her clothes and dressed quickly. 

Lady Penelope removed the disc of her ordeal that had been recorded, then came back to Philippe. 

“My protégé did nothing to you, yet, you monster, you took her life to punish me, which you have, and for letting that happen I shall never forgive myself!  In the game – it was always a game to me – I accepted the risks, even welcomed them, in fact, and I suppose in some way I should have known this could happen some day. That is my fault and mine alone for being a stupid little girl and, believe me, I would change places with Livie in a second if it meant she could live.  I hate you for that Philippe!” she said almost in tears, but clenching her jaw to force them back.

“Zat is very touching, your Ladyship. I have failed again, but as zay say, third time is a charm.  I have escaped from ze law before and will do so again, and all the while I will be planning our next encounter,” he laughed weakly to mock her.

“Lady Winterbourne added a missing touch to the escape to make it more permanent,” Lady Penelope countered. “She discovered a way to release all the ecstasy into one specific area rather than into the entire nervous system as a whole, thus totally overwhelming the central nervous system and causing it to shut down slowly. The result is death to the male in a matter of five to 10 minutes. I suspect you are halfway there, unable now to walk or even move any limbs.

“You deserve to die, Philippe, for what you did and die you shall. I hate myself right now for what I did, but I hate you more!” Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward said as she picked up the disc and left the room, tears forming in her eyes over the fact she had killed someone and had, in fact, enjoyed doing it.

 

***

When Lady Penelope reached the white Jaguar parked outside the warehouse, she sunk into the pink leather bucket seat and took a moment to compose herself with slow yoga breathing. As she began to find her center in a desperate quest for calm amid the raging storm in her soul, her thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of her pink Blackberry. Annoyed momentarily at the interruption, she clicked the appropriate app and saw the text message from Jeff Tracy:

Your presence required ASAP at St. Mary’s Hospital, London. Livie Strauss shaken up, but not critically injured after being tortured and held captive in hotel room. Found and freed by housekeeping after they triggered booby-trap in adjoining room. Livie needs you NOW!

JEFF

The look of shock on Lady Penelope’s face quickly turned to a smile as the latest of many tears this night rolled down her cheek at the knowledge that Philippe had not, in fact, killed Livie. But Lady Penelope had killed Philippe. It would be no trouble for someone with her skills and resources to make his death look like the work of someone else. Still, she had crossed a line – in fact, she had crossed many lines this night – and gone to darker places than she ever had before.

Would Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward visit those places again?