Chapter 33

After escorting Samantha to the director's caravan, Hans paused at the open door. "I'll leave you here then, Fraulein... I'm sure you'd prefer to have to privacy for what you need to do..."

From somewhere deep inside herself, Samantha summoned up a small smile. "Thanks for being so understanding, Hans. Yeah, 'shooting up' is a rather personal thing but not too many folk understand that. As for what comes afterwards... I'd rather you didn't see that either. Tell me... is he... is he..."

"Don't worry, Samantha," Hans broke in. "As far as I'm aware, he's not known for being vicious in bed. Just writhe about and moan a lot... but what am I telling you this for? You're the actress, after all!"

The Englishwoman snorted loudly through her nose. "Actress? Until this time last week I was a policewoman. Believe me, this is newer to me than it is to you!"

"A policewoman? You? We must talk of that sometime... but I'd best delay you no longer. Auf Wedersen, Fraulein..."

Samantha wished the man's departing back a fond farewell before entering the caravan and closing the door behind her. As Klaus had said, in the drawer by the bed was a new syringe with a sterile needle... and laying next to this was a small, clear glass phial of the all important drug without which she couldn't function. Picking the drug up in trembling fingers, Samantha charged the syringe, rolled up her sleeve and sought out a vein. For the thousandth time she paused and thought that, with some willpower, she could simply put the needle down and, while life might be hell for awhile, she could survive without the fix and rid herself of the dirty habit. And, for the thousandth time, these thoughts vanished from her mind as quickly as the arrived and a faction of a second later she jabbed the needle into herself and pressed the plunger, sending the liquid coursing round her system...

Laura Fotheringay sat on a low couch placed opposite her desk, hugging a plastic cup of coffee in both hands as she observed the police going about their duties. A uniformed female officer sat alongside her offering support and comfort but all that Laura could think about was the ruby that was still buried deep in her arse. In her heart, Laura knew that she should have already handed the gem over and told the cops just how it had got there... but... well, truth to tell, Laura already also knew deep within her that she never would. The idea of what she could do with the proceeds from the sale of such a stone was just too attractive to an underpaid office worker like herself. "Besides," she told herself, "it's insured, isn't it? My employers won't be out of pocket, so why should I be concerned about it's loss? It's not like one of them has even asked if I'm alright let along done anything more for me..."

"Miss Fotheringay?" asked a voice cutting into Laura's thoughts.

"Erm... yes?" Laura replied, looking up to see the face of a black policewoman.

"I'm Sergeant Fiona Adoga and I'd like you to tell me, in your own words, exactly what happened here. After that, we'll write it all down and you can sign it... and then we'll have you driven home. I'm sure it's been a traumatic time for you."

"Yes... yes, it has. Well, everything was usual until about..."

Looking out of the office window, Fiona watched the young secretary being driven away in a panda car. As the vehicle rounded a corner, she turned to face her superior. "Pretty disappointing, I'm afraid. Two large men, dressed all in black. They had masks on when the came in and she never saw their faces. They hardly spoke to her and she was too scared to notice if they had accents. Oh, yes, and they had gloves on all the time. Very professional."

"Very professional indeed. A skilled job on the safe door. No description worth a damned... but, on the other hand, few people with the required talents to pull this off - and even less with the organisation to move it on. Get back to the station and run what we have through the computer... get a list of names... and check out the fences while you're at it. From the list of missing stones that we've been given, there can't be many crooked jewellers with the bank roll to buy all of them."

"Okay, sir, I'll get right on it..."

Looking down from the building opposite, Lydia watched as her husband's former lover left the office block and waddled over to the car. Now clearly pregnant, the black officer struggled to get through the passenger door before flopping down on the seat. Lydia chuckled to herself as she thought that Fiona had only got her just desserts.

Thinking of this reminded Lydia of her worm of a husband and she again turned to face into the room where Roger, the giant black man, was stood naked in the centre of the floor, his huge, stiff penis wafting about like a lance. Kneeling before him was the equally naked Ian, his hands moving forward to cup the giant's ball sack as he opened his mouth wide and struggled to accommodate the thick, stiff, black cock that Roger was now forcing down his throat. "Are you enjoying that, worm?" Lydia taunted her slave/husband. "Oh, yes, I see you are, you naughty boy!" Smiling, the woman dropped down onto her haunches to better observe Ian's own erection. "All these years of married un-bliss and I never even suspected that you were bi-sexual, Ian. Live and learn, live and learn." Reaching out, Lydia picked up a pencil that lay forgotten on the floor before using it to stroke her man's cock on the underside, feeling it's weight through the lead and wood of the pencil. "Now then," she continued, "with all these cameras laying about, I think I'll get a few shots of this hot action. I'm sure that there's some magazines out there who would love to publish stuff like this... or maybe I'd just be better just sending some prints straight round to the police station? I know you don't work there any more but I'm certain that they'd love to see this..."

Muffled sounds were forced from Ian's throat as he frantically tried to make himself understood. "I don't think he likes the idea of that at all, Mrs Smythe," Roger laughed as the flash went off for the first time.

"Oh, but I think he does - look, he's dripping even more pre-cum." The flash fired again. "I think that the idea of getting caught is a major turn-on for the worm." Yet another flash. "Isn't that right? Hmm? What's that? You're rather indistinct." Lydia threw back her head and laughed uproariously. "And just what would your precious little whore of a sergeant think of you now, worm? Do you think she'd be impressed?"

"Oh, I think she'd be very impressed," added Roger, grimacing slightly as he struggled to hold back his orgasm.

Noticing this, Lydia asked the ebony skinned man if he was ready to cum to which Roger replied that he was. "You hear that, Ian? This big black man's about to shoot his seed right down your wimpy, white throat. You used to love hassling niggers when you were on the force, didn't you? You always referred to them as niggers when you used to tell me your oh so amusing anecdotes from the days - and nights - at the office. And now you're been given deep-throat by one. Poetic, I'd say... oh, my god!" The flash fired off repeatedly as Ian's cock shuddered and shot forth a long, thick stream of spunk that sprayed through Roger's legs before splattering on the carpet behind him. Then Ian's eyes opened wide while a fascinated Lydia watched as her husband's Adam's Apple bobbed about as he struggled to swallow Roger's load. The huge, dark skinned man groaned as his sperm continued to be forced out of him, his hands now twisted and entwined in Ian's hair as he pressed the white man's face hard into his groin. Eventually Roger slackened his grip and then released his hold totally; Ian rocked back on his heels and then the now softening cock slide out of his mouth as he wiped the back of his hand over his lips. "Thank the man, worm!" snapped his Mistress.

"Thank you, Roger."

Lydia's toe caught Ian square over one of his kidneys and the man collapsed sideways to the floor. "Be respectful," she ordered.

"Thank you, sir," tried Ian again.

"Better. Now, crawl over to your pants and pay the man what you owe him."

Painfully, Ian crossed the room and dug out his wallet. He couldn't believe that he was actually going to pay for the privilege of being mouth-fucked by this man... but, on the other hand, Ian thought, I did rather enjoy it... not that I'd ever admit to it. Pulling out a handful of notes, he handed them over to Roger who gratefully accepted them. "If I can be of any further service, Mrs Smythe... ?"

"No, that's fine thank you, Roger. Save your strength for Wednesday... you haven't forgotten our appointment?"

"Indeed not, Mrs Smythe, indeed not. I'll be looking forward to it..."