Cute Girls

Glen Alder

“© Sir Will 2005″

Lisa looked around her at the big dimly lit room. The dark bookcases, the pictures that hung from one wall, the heavy velvet curtains pulled tightly shut and all but deadening the sound of the heavy rain which fell outside. How had she got herself into this bizarre situation. Oh how she now wished she had listened to her friends, to her husband, even her children All had told her that it was just stupid to go searching for your ancestors in the middle of winter in Scotland.

Twenty-four hours ago she had been with her family in their small hotel suite on the outskirts of London. They had a nice evening in the West End of London, put the kids to bed and she and her husband of fifteen years had enjoyed one of those all too rare evenings alone. Love making, that quiet, assured, pleasant activity, had developed over the last fifteen years. The raw early emotion and passion of their relationship had long ago begun to ebb. Lisa believed herself to have a happy marriage. Todd and she had been childhood sweethearts and the whole township knew that they would marry as soon as it was seemly. But now, passion for Lisa came in two, non-physical, forms.

First was the passion for romance and excitement. A passion which had found a constant fuel in the cheap novels which she bought at the local Seven-Eleven. She enjoyed the intrigue, the deceit, the powerful love and, yes, the raw passion that always brought the main characters together. She had always wondered, fleetingly, about the true passion, the erotic encounters which went un-mentioned in these stories. The female usually melting into the hero’s arms, a deep smouldering kiss, the close embrace - the next chapter!

Second was that passion which had brought her to this forbidding place. It was the passion to learn more about her mixed ancestry. Her parents had both passed away relatively early; the task of sitting down to talk (and write down) those childhood stories about the “Good ‘ol Days” had remained undone. Now she was trying to remedy that; to learn more about that Scots, Irish, Afro-American cocktail which had formed her genes and her being.

She had spent hours on the internet, using some of her allowance to explore genealogy web sites to trace her roots, especially the Scots line of her maternal grandmother. They intrigued her, the family was well documented and she had been able to go back three generation and find the birth records in the mid-18th century baptismal records in Mallaig. She had copies and they showed the home to be Glen Alder but where was this place? The place name did not exist. Of course she had found Mallaig, the small port in Western Scotland from where the steamers went to the Western Isles. She had ordered and received a detailed map of the area from Borders but nothing of the name Alder was to be found in this part of Scotland.

She had given up hope.

Then a visit to a local second-hand bookshop had produced the find she was looking for. A slim volume “Ramblings in Western Scotland” had a small fold-out map at the back and there, as plain as anything, was the words “Glen Alder House”. There could be no mistake it was there and just off the main road. Perhaps the house had been renamed? Lisa didn’t care. She had found what she was looking for and now this working trip for her husband come holiday had provided the opportunity to see for herself.

An early flight from Heathrow, a hire car at the airport, all the maps she had and Lisa was off. She had barely left the outskirts of Glasgow and found the A82 when the sky had turned grey, then black as rain, increasingly heavy, started to fall. She stopped for lunch at a roadside inn and then for coffee and some cake at very small cafe just north of Fort William. She had asked if anybody knew of Glen Alder, but only blank looks and a shrug of weary shoulders had been obtained from the lady behind the counter. It was now getting dark, but she resolved to press on. Could she find the road to Glen Alder before heading into Mallaig for her pre-booked overnight at Mrs Armstrong’s B&B. She set off again peering through the windscreen, past the wipers now on full speed.

What was that on the left? A road, well more like a track, but wide, leading off between two high stone walls, built like the gateway to some large house. It was the right area, it was on the right side of the road. Could it be? She pulled the wheel and turned in. The gravel road stretched before her into the darkness, the first 20 yards illuminated by the car headlamps. She could see no house, no buildings, nothing. She drove on. How far, a mile perhaps two and then BANG.

The wheel lurched in her hands, the car veered. She was powerless to stop the slide into the ditch. She remembered hearing the rain and the engine racing and then all was silence. A black silence.

“Miss; are you OK?” She nodded; her hurt head. She heard the rain, but no engine. She looked around. This was not her car. It looked like the inside of a farmer’s vehicle, plain and austere. In the pale light she could just make out the shadow of a man. “Are you OK?” The shadow spoke again. She was aware of his dress, camouflage fatigues, a dark woollen ski hat pulled down over his head, his face painted in black paint. The figure moved towards her and reached out to touch her, she recoiled, and then fell back against the side of the vehicle as it started to move.

“We will take you to the house. They will check you over before the boss has a chat with you.” The shadow did not wait for answer, but turned to look out through the front windscreen and the two pale beams of light which illuminated the road. She could not ask a question, her brain was still foggy and. in any case and she thought it better to wait until they arrived at wherever they were going.

The journey did not take long and soon she was being led through the imposing doors of a large house. Few lights seemed to be on as she moved into a well lit hallway. Suits of armour stood at the foot of a long wide staircase, large oil paintings - portraits of long dead people - hung from the walls which were panelled in a dark oak.

She followed the shadow to a small room just off the main hallway and was ushered in. “Somebody will be with you in a few minutes” and the shadow was gone. The room was well lit and looked for all the world like a doctors consulting room. A large desk, an examination table, some small chests and a screen were virtually all that was in the room. She looked around the walls - no oil paintings here, just the wood panels and ……. She looked higher. Near the ceiling was a small camera, the little red light seemed to wink at her. What was that doing in a doctor’s room? Was somebody watching? Her feeling of unease was cut short as two people entered the room by a side door in the panels. Both female, one was dressed in a crisp nurse’s uniform, the other in a simple tweed suit.

“Good Evening” the tweed suit asked breezily, “How’s the head?”

“Fine, just a bit sore” Lisa spoke softly, still unsure of her surroundings.

“Lets have a quick look at you, sit over here please and let me examine you” the tweed suit spoke with a level of authority that Lisa was sure came from years of ordering people around. No bedside manner, just cold efficiency. Lisa sat on the chair while she was examined, pencil lights into her eyes, a finger tip examination of her scalp, reflex tests on her knees. the tight bandage around her arm as her blood pressure was taken. All performed in silence except for various figures spoken by the tweed suit and written onto a clip board by the nurse.

“Nothing to worry about; just some mild concussion from hitting your head. You will have a bit of bruise and a headache but that’s all. Be fine in a day or so.” For the first time the tweed suit smiled at her. An almost reassuring smile that at another time, and in another place, would have put her at ease. Now it just lowered Lisa’s sense of anxiety.

“Go with the nurse and she will get you some coffee and the boss will see you and explain.” Not waiting for an answer she disappeared through the panel door. Lisa felt the nurse behind her and rose from the chair to follow her out of the room, back down the hall and off into a much larger room near the front door. Lisa looked around, unaware until she heard the click of the door that the nurse had turned on her heels and left her inside the room.

This room was much grander. A large desk in one corner was augmented with several large comfortable looking sofas arranged in front of a fireplace in which a log fire was burning. Book shelves filled two walls, pictures a third and large windows behind the desk the fourth wall. Heavy velvet curtains were pulled tightly over the windows, but the light from the fire and the dim room lighting gave the whole a warm comforting glow. In front of one settee was a small tray on which a pot of coffee, a cup and some biscuits had been placed.

Lisa moved over and sat on the sofa. Carefully, with a hand shaking slightly, she poured herself a cup of coffee and settled into the sofa to await “the Boss”.

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Lisa shook herself, aware that she was on the point of dozing off and stood up. The log fire still burned in front of her. She felt the coffee pot - stone cold. She had fallen asleep. For how long? What time was it? Even, what day was it? She could hear the sound of the rain still against the windows. How had she got herself into this bizarre situation? Oh how she now wished she had listened to her friends, to her husband, even her children. All had told her that it was just stupid to go searching for your ancestors in the middle of winter in Scotland.

Lisa heard the soft click of the door and turned to see a man approaching her across the room. She was immediately drawn to his smile - a broad smile which spread across his face and lit up his deep blue eyes. As he reached out his hand to shake hers, she was aware of his height, over 6 foot she imagined and his build, broad shoulders and the bearing of somebody who obviously took care of himself and his fitness. Her hand was lost in his as he squeezed it gently. “Please take a seat” the smile showed her the way to chair now in front of the large desk and held it for her as she sat down.

“I expect you are wondering what all this is about?” the smile changed to a questioning look.

“Well yes” Lisa started, “I can remember turning off the main road and then nothing much apart from being brought here and being seen by the doctor . Then I think I must have dozed off for a few minutes on the sofa.” Lisa blurted it all out, anxious to get her story across.

The man smiled “Quite a long nap I would say, but you are safe and no harm done” the smile slipped slightly as he went on “we don’t get many visitors here so we need to know what brought you to our little corner of Scotland.” He raised an eyebrow - that quizzical look again. “I’m Peter Sanders by the way Lisa, but Peter is fine.” Lisa, the word hit her like a thunderbolt - he knew her name, she became aware for the first time that she did not have her bag with her. Of course, he must have her passport. She relaxed slightly.

“So, if you can, tell me in your own words, what brought you here.” Lisa sensed that the cheery disposition had slipped slightly and that Peter had shifted into a more official, authoritative mode. She started to explain how her mixed ancestry had driven her to search out her roots and how she had taken this opportunity to try and trace her grandmother’s line which was based around this part of Scotland. Mention of her visit made her pause - her family her husband, they would be missing her. She should call.

Peter looked up from the pad on which he was writing notes “What’s the matter?” asked with just a hint of real sympathy.

“My husband and children” Lisa replied with concern and some panic in her voice “they will be missing me.” “I should have called.”

Peter wrote something on his pad “we will look into that and put their minds at rest if needed.” Lisa wondered about the “we,” who was “we” and how would they know how to contact them.

“My bag - it has …..” she started to look around but Peter stopped her to simply say “we have the information. Don’t worry, they may not even be worrying about you yet.”

“Oh my husband will” Lisa almost snapped back, “he is so possessive, he would be expecting me to call. Perhaps if I could just call ……. leave a message?”

Peter looked at her, his eyes seeming to be a deeper blue now “Possessive you say?” Lisa quickly nodded “I am surprised he let you come here alone then. In the middle of winter; leaving him in London.”

Peter’s words rang like alarm bells. He was right; it was so unlike Todd to even let her out of his sight for more than a few hours. Now here they were in Europe and he had let her go to the west of Scotland, alone. Why? How did this man opposite know where Todd was? Of course her bag, the hotel name was there. Had he already made contact? Lisa could feel the situation becoming more unreal, like something from a Le Carre novel!

“Please continue” Peter’s voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked back into those eyes once more; they seemed so deep, impenetrable. She could feel them looking into her as if he could read her mind, her thoughts. The smile, the disarming smile which spread over his face, a face full of sympathy, as if he knew he had touched a raw nerve and then retreated from the consequences.

Lisa did continue, but her narrative lacked concentration and she started to stumble over her words. She explained about her search for Glen Alder, the fact that she could not find it on the map, then the second-hand book with its amateurish hand drawn map.

Throughout, Peter looked at her still wearing that sympathetic smile, occasionally looking down at his notes until she stopped. Lisa looked back at him, looking for some sign that her story was to be believed, that perhaps she could continue her search and return to her family in London. “So you came here searching for somewhere called Glen Alder did you? Mmmmm.” Peter looked down and turned the page. “Tell me about your husband.”

Lisa was startled. “What? Um why?” she stumbled unsure of this new, unexpected turn in the conversation. Peter smiled that smile again “Please” the politeness gave away that this seemed to be an instruction, an order even.

“Well” Lisa began, “he is a good man we were childhood sweethearts and he has been moderately successful and looked after us well.” “We have two children and his work brought him to London and we tagged along for the ride.” Peter was making notes, Lisa was unsure if this was what he wanted to hear or not. “I am sure he loves us” and then added, with a flashback to his possessive nature, “I am sure he loves me.”

Peter looked up from his notes and into Lisa’s face once more. That soul searching look “I am sure he does.” Peter’s comment direct to the point but perhaps with a hint of knowing that this might not be the whole picture.

“When are you due back in London?” Peter’s change of direction once again catching her off guard. “Ermm … day after tomorrow.” “Which is?” Peter was looking down again, didn’t he know the answer? “Friday” she added quickly, “we need to move on to Europe on Saturday.”

“OK” said Peter finally, “I just need to check on a few things and I will be back. I will get some lunch sent in for you and be back as quick as I can.” He rose from the chair, picked up his note pad and headed for the door “Don’t worry” and he was gone.

Lisa turned around. Lunch? What was the time? She rose to go to the window but was interrupted by a noise behind her. A door opened and a thin man dressed like a butler entered with a small tray which he set down on the desk. A chicken salad was revealed when he lifted the lid. She was about to say “Thanks - my favourite” or something equally trite when he bowed and said “We hope this has been prepared the way you like it.” She was shocked - no speechless! How did they know she liked chicken, salads, CHICKEN SALAD?

That feeling of unease swept over her again. She picked at the food and then, surprised that she was hungry, ate more heartily until all had disappeared. She drank the tall glass of fresh orange juice (another favourite) and sat back in the chair. All was quiet, even the rain seemed to have stopped. She went to the window and pulled the curtain.

The disappointment that the window was shuttered was almost too much. She looked more closely and could see through a broken shutter. A vast lawn opened out in front of the window. It seemed to go on for ever, framed by flowering shrubs of some description, all bathed in a weak sunlight. Beyond was the grey outline of some mountains, still swathed in dark rain clouds.

“I must get the shutter fixed.” Lisa jumped out of her skin at the sound of Peter’s voice. “Come and sit down I have some news for you.” The smile had returned, reassuring but somehow, well Lisa could not quite work out what but there was something; a something which she found intriguing but mysterious.

She followed Peter over to the sofas and they both sat down, but on different sofas facing each other on either side of the now dying fire.

“We have made sure that your husband and children are OK” Peter began, “they have been enjoying themselves visiting the sights. They don’t appear to be expecting to hear from you until tomorrow. They obviously think of Scotland as a foreign land with little communications.” He smiled at his comment, that warm smile again. “So, no need to worry.”

“We are still checking a few other things but I am sure we can let you go in the morning.” Peter was looking as though this comment should reassure Lisa, but for her part she could not understand what there was to check. She was just a simple girl from the mid-West trying to trace her family tree after all.

“What are you checking?” Lisa began to get agitated and not a little worried. What if they found out something about her which might stop her being released? ‘No that’s silly’ she thought ‘there is nothing.’

“Well” began Peter, “you are here and you have no right to be here. The public are not allowed here and certainly not a foreign national.” Lisa started to worry about the type of place this was. “We have to be very careful and you appear to know some things which you should not.”

“What things? I don’t know anything about this place. I don’t even know where I am.” Lisa was now starting to panic.

“You know this place as Glen Alder” the words rang like alarm bells “but that is classified information.” While Lisa was trying to take in these words - classified = secret - Peter continued, “You also come from an interesting part of the US as well.”

Interesting? What was interesting about her home state? “I don’t understand.”

Peter looked at her, those eyes again seeming to bore into her mind; reading it. “Well,” Peter’s eyes now bored into her, looking for some reaction, “your government has a number of installations in your neighbourhood which are …” a pause, still looking for a reaction ” are shall we say not very well known.”

Lisa was even more confused, she knew of no military or government establishments anywhere near her home except for the state guard barracks just down the road. “I I I don’t know anything about that” her voice now pleading “I’m just here to search for my ancestors. I’m not some sort of spy.”

Spy - the word made Peter smile, why did people watch all those James Bond films, nobody in his job ever used the word. “I’m sure your right, but we just need to check. It will take a few more hours and then, tomorrow morning, we will take you back.”

Lisa was both relieved and concerned. Why would it take until tomorrow? “She started to ask the question “Why ….” But was cut short by Peter raising a hand.

“It is not for me to set the time, but we need reports from America and the clock is against us. I have arranged for your bag to be put into one of our guest rooms so you can change. Perhaps you would like to join me for dinner?” Peter was looking at her, that warm disarming smile spread across his face. “It’s not the Savoy, but it’s not bad.”

Peter watched Lisa as a look of resignation spread over her face. “Everything will be fine” he said rising from the sofa to pull a cord by the fireplace, “Mary the nurse will show you to your room and get anything you need.”

Peter smiled again and left, as Mary the nurse re-entered the room. “Let me show you your room.” She had changed from the starched uniform and was now in simple slacks and a sweater.

Lisa followed her up the staircase and then down a long corridor. They passed many rooms all with doors tight shut until they came to a second staircase. This narrow flight of stairs led them up to a small landing with just four doors, one of which Mary opened and led Lisa inside..

The room was sumptuously furnished, a big four poster bed dominated the room and the walls were covered with more paintings of stags and Scotsmen. Mary opened a door in the panelling to reveal a small en-suite shower room. “I hope you don’t mind,” she spoke with a soft Scots accent, “we checked through your bag. Nothing has been removed.” She smiled and went on “We have also put a dress in your size in the wardrobe - you may like to wear that for dinner with the boss?” Mary smiled, the look telling Lisa that it would probably be better for her to dress appropriately for dinner. They seemed to be full of surprises, now even a dress shop. Lisa weakly smiled back at Mary.

“If you need anything, just ring” Mary pointed at a bell in the wall near the door, “We will come for you in a couple of hours.” Mary smiled again and turned and went out through the door they had entered by. Lisa heard the soft click of the latch and then the quiet noise of the lock being turned. Clearly she was not expected to move from the room! She inspected the room, and then went to her bag and took out the modest few things she had brought with her for the two nights she expected to be away. She put her spare clothes in the wardrobe and spotted the simple red dress that hung alone on the hanger. She checked the size - it was indeed hers. She placed her spare underwear carefully in one of drawers and then immediately took out a clean bra and panties and headed for the bathroom. If she was right, she had been in these clothes for nearly two days and a shower was definitely in order.

She spent a long time under the shower, enjoying the warm sharp spray. When she finished she wrapped herself in one of the large fluffy towels and returned to the main bedroom. There was expensive cologne on the dresser and a hair dryer. If she was going to dinner in her family house, Lisa decided, she ought to make the effort to look the part. She took her time to get ready, the last step being to slip into the red cocktail dress. She smoothed it over her rounded hips and admired herself in the full-length mirror. “Mmmm not bad” she thought as she smoothed the material over her nicely rounded hips – no lines; she was glad she had packed some of her better underwear rather than the practical stuff! She was still in front of the mirror when, exactly two hours after Lisa had entered the room, Mary returned to escort her to dinner.

Lisa noticed that Mary had changed again, now wearing something a bit more formal, but not to the standard of Lisa’s dress – had she misread the signals and gone over the top? She was taken through one of other small doors on her landing and then down a small narrow corridor and, finally, through a large door at the end into a small room. Unlike the other rooms she had been into, the furnishings here were more modern, a couple of very soft looking sofa around the fireplace, plenty of book shelves lining the walls and a small dining table in the corner, already laid with just two places. “Make yourself comfortable” Mary’s soft voice floated into her as she looked around the room, “Peter will be here very shortly.” With that she left Lisa to take in more of her surroundings.

A soft click announced Peter’s arrival through the other door. He moved silently across the carpet towards her, hand outstretched towards her “Well Lisa you look wonderful” Lisa could see those blue eyes twinkle and move quickly, taking her all in ” I hope you don’t mind eating here in my quarters, its so much nicer that the main mess.” He took Lisa’s hand and raised it to his lips. Lisa felt his firm grip: nearly too tight, a complete contrast to the soft kiss place on the back of her hand. Lisa smiled and, inwardly, a secret smile at the thought that people still did this in England.

Peter suggested a drink and without waiting for a reply, poured two glasses of chilled champagne from the bottle neatly placed on the small table by the sofa. “To a pleasant evening” Peter raised his glass. Lisa raised hers and touched it with a bell like clink “Yes, thank you.”

Lisa found, as the evening progressed, that she was warming to this man. He was clearly very intelligent, he was also easy to talk to and, there was always that smile. As the simple dinner progressed they talked about her life in America, what she did, what she liked and disliked. Her interests; tracing her family history. The occasional visit by a young smartly dressed waiter did little to stop the flow of the pleasant social conversation. As the sweets were served the emphasis changed and Lisa found herself asking questions of Peter, her own interrogation of this handsome but secretive man. Did he live here all the time? “No but most of the time.” Was he married? “No” – divorced because, according to Peter ” .. she didn’t share my tastes.” An answer Lisa thought funny in the extreme but also one which a sixth sense told her not to try and resolve! How long had he been doing this work (whatever this work was)? Could not (would not) say. Did he enjoy it? – a guarded “Yes.”

Lisa declined cheese and biscuits and the clean cut waiter brought in a tray of coffee and placed it on the small table by the sofas, before adding a couple of logs onto the fire. “That will be all Brian.” Peter’s quietly spoken order. “Yes sir. Good night sir.” And Brian was gone. “Shall we adjourn to the fireside?” Peter poured coffee and started to explain that picture which hung over the mantle may well be one of Lisa’s long lost relatives. The small inscription on the frame simply reading “Third Laird of Glen Alder.” At that moment a small buzzer sounded on a telephone and Peter rose to take the call. After a couple of grunts and “OKs”., Peter replaced the handset and said “I just need to pop out for a couple of minutes.” Lisa turned to face him as he left the room - that smile again and he was gone.

Lisa sat pondering the painting; did she resemble this bearded, kilted man, with two massive hunting dogs at his feet? She rose from the soft furnishing and moved closer to the painting.

Suddenly she was aware of a presence behind her. She had heard nothing but she knew that somebody was behind her “Striking picture isn’t it?” Peter’s soft voice spoke close to her ear. She could feel his very being behind her. “I can see some similarities between the Third Laird and you.”

“Can you?” Lisa stared into the picture scanning the old man’s features, “I am not so sure that I look so similar.”

“Well I can see some similarities, but I think you are also like him in other ways;” a long pause, then Peter continued “he had a reputation as a very secretive man, a man who liked to take risks, passionate even.”

Lisa was shocked, how did this man she had met only a few hours earlier know what she was like, what went on in her head? She continued to look forward simply stating “What on earth makes you think that? You hardly know me.”

“Oh I think I know you very well Lisa, if I am correct, there are things inside your head which you have keep suppressed. Things which even your best friends do not know about you.” Lisa started to get worried – it was true she had thoughts about her emotions and fantasised often, but how could he possibly know. She let out a nervous laugh, aware that she may be sending more signals about herself.

She suddenly felt him move closer, his hands resting lightly on her hips, now whispering in her ear “Lisa I am sure I am correct. You need to release those hidden emotions, live those fantasies while you have the chance.” She could hear him breath in her cologne, aware now that he had probably selected it for her. “This is crazy Peter, I think I should go to bed.” She tried to make it sincere but remained rooted to the spot.

“Lisa, I know that you don’t mean that,” his hands started to move lightly upwards “you need release and I want to give you that experience.” His hands stopped resting along the line of her bra. “Come with me on a journey of discovery, let’s discover the true Lisa.” His hands remained still, applying just a little pressure to hold her still.

“Peter, this makes no sense, let me go.”

“I’m not holding you, you are free to go, but I think you want to stay. ” his hands started to move back down her sides “You came to learn about your roots, but I am offering you the chance to learn about you.” Peter’s hands moved round to her front, gently pulling her back against his firm body. “The real you.”

One hand opened and spread over her tummy and the pulled her back against him firmly.

“Peter, I’m a married woman. I can’t; shouldn’t do .. do …. Do whatever it is you think we/you want to do.”

Her words just came out as a jumble. An inner turmoil was starting within her. One voice inside was saying ‘walk away, this is wrong, you don’t need this,’ another was screaming ’stay, find out more, take a risk.’

She could feel Peters breath on her neck, his lips now close to her ear, his warmth making those little hairs stand to attention. “You want what is starting now, you need this Lisa, release those emotions Lisa,” the hands started to move, upwards ” let yourself be free.”

His hands came to rest over her breasts, slowly closing over the mounds, a gentle but firm pressure as Peter’s lips moved, for the first time over her neck to her ears, applying featherlike kisses along her skin.

A soft, almost inaudible moan escaped Lisa, released by her subconscious self, “Peter stop, please” her hands went to cover his in a half hearted attempt to pull them away from her bosom.

“I cannot do this, my husband my family, its wrong please, please just let me go.”

Her voice sounded firmer, more meaning, but her hands betrayed her inner feelings. There was little attempt to free herself, to remove his hands, to move away from his body which now warmed her back.

“You are very attractive Lisa; beautiful,” his hands moved now, more of a caress; upwards to her shoulders, down her arms and back to caress her breasts once again.

Lisa let out a silly little laugh “I’m not pretty, just a humble farm girl. But please Peter; please stop, no more.” Her voice was getting weaker now, the sincerity ebbing away.

Peter’s right hand continued to caress her breast, but the left moved higher moving her shoulder length hair away from her neck to enable his kisses to continue along her neck. She felt his fingers move again, then heard the sound and finally felt the fresh air on her spine as Peter lowered the single rear zip which held her dress together.

“Peter …” Lisa’s voice stronger now, “please stop this has gone far enough, I’ll scream if you don’t stop.” She heard Peter chuckle as the zip continued to move slowly down her back and Peter’s lips followed. “Feel free to express yourself Lisa, nobody can hear us.” Lisa panicked “What? …. What do you mean?”

“Simply that the walls are very thick and we are the only ones this side of the house.” His lips reached the line of her bra and then returned to continue kissing her neck. With the zip undone, his right hand now moved more easily over her breasts, his squeezes, just that bit harder. Lisa knew she was reacting she could feel her nipples harden inside her bra, her sensible side was telling her to flee, but …….

Suddenly she could feel the material of the dress being moved, Peter’s kisses were moving along her shoulder, moving the material of the dress away as he went. As she wrestled with her conscience, she felt the material fall from the point of her shoulder and that right hand did the rest, tugging the material down her arms to expose her upper chest. Panicking, she tried to raise her arms to cover her partially exposed breasts, but the fallen dress now seemed to tie her arms down by her sides; she was powerless to stop that right hand’s return to fondle her breast.

“Peter please stop this,” she was whimpering, a cry of near desperation, “please, ………. Oh please.”

“Shhh just go with the flow.” Peter’s voice quiet but firm in her ear. Then she felt him squeeze her right breast again, harder than before and her body reacted, arching back against him as some hidden desire overtook her.

She was just aware that Peter’s left hand was undoing the clasp of her bra before the satin and lace feel away to leave her exposed. Both hands now returned, taking her firm breasts into their palms, her small hard nipples trapped between thumb and forefinger. A deep, nearly silent, groan escaped her lips as she felt herself falling into a blissful state - the inevitable result of having a man’s hands, touching her over-sensitive nipples. Lisa had often thought that she may reach orgasm simply through her nipples; now here was a man she hardly knew moving her to that euphoric state, using just the right balance of pressure and caress. And there was also his kisses,, now firmer, moving over skin. She could feel his teeth scrape over her pale skin, feel the tips of her ears being drawn slowly into his mouth. She wanted to keep saying no, but the words refused to come out, her body instead pressing back against him.

She could feel herself reaching that high she craved; her breathing became shallower as she sensed the first moisture between her legs. His hands left her breasts for a moment, but only for the moment it took to push her dress and bra down her arms which now hung limply at her sides. The hands returned to continue their delicious torture as her dress fell in a puddle of red cloth at her feet. Lisa now didn’t care that a mere satin thong was now all that was between her and total exposure, her body ached for release and she could feel herself rising to that point. Peter was pressing himself into her back, moulding her body against his and she could feel the hardness of him pressed against her bare bottom. One hand now moved down to cover her tummy, leaving the other to continue the caress and the torture of her too hard nipples. That lower hand spread over her stomach and then moved lower, the fingers capturing her mound, using the satin to apply an erotic massage her to her puffy lips. At the first touch of his finger to the top of her slit, Lisa spilled over the edge. A low sound escaped her lips; a “Yesssssss” said softly, almost like a cats purr. Peter felt it too, the sharp intake, the quickening breath, a movement in the lips of her pussy, the backward pressure against him and then, finally, the warm dampness creeping over the satin.

Lisa’s mind was racing. This was wrong, what had she just allowed to happen? She had just had a wonderful orgasm, it had taken only minutes, she didn’t usually cum that quickly. Certainly not standing up. “Peter please, that was wonderful, but let me go now”, then softly adding a further ” please.”

But Peter continued to hold her against him, the caress to her breasts now feather light, appreciating the sensitivity, the other hand continued to caress her pussy, his fingers tracing the line of her slit and smoothing the satin over the top. “We have only just started on the journey Lisa.” The words whispered into her left ear once more. “Turn around.”

She remained still, a sixth sense telling her that if she turned she may be lost to this man. “Lisa turn around please.” His hands had left her and the voice was now firmer; a quietly spoken order. She remained statue-like, unable to move. “Now” this time Peter’s voice was raised slightly with a mere hint of menace. She slowly turned.

“Thank you.” Those blue eyes met her brown eyes, looking deeply into her; they scanned Lisa slowly, taking in the near naked body. Lisa felt vulnerable and unprotected. “You are beautiful Lisa, very, very beautiful.” Lisa smiled a weak smile and a soft “Thank you” looking downwards.

Peter’s hand reached out to cup her chin and lifted her face up, her lips to his. That first touch was like an electric shock, her eyes opened fully to look into Peter’s, her lips parted and she felt the tip of his tongue move between them. Her tongue reached out to meet his, to touch it, to try and move around it; tongues caressing. It was the most sensual kiss Lisa could remember, the soft pressure between their lips, two tongues moving around each other, no other contact between them. Slowly, very slowly, Peter moved his head away, his eyes locked with hers. She felt his hands move down her body, suddenly very aware of her nakedness. The fingers gently moved her wet thong to one side, the tips now touching her bare, shaven pussy lips; so warm and slick with her juices. The finger at the bottom of her slit now, slowly moving up, grazing her clit, then it was gone.

Then a finger, the same finger, in front of her touching Peter’s tongue; she could see the trace of moisture – her moisture - on the tip as Peter tasted her.. He repeated the caress, the finger moving slightly deeper between her pussy lips, hovering longer over her clitoris; a wetter finger, a longer taste. This time the finger placed at her own lips, allowing her to taste her own juices. Lisa thought they tasted differently from the rare previous times she had tasted herself.

“So sweet ……….. so good,” there was a slight huskiness about Peter’s tone now. This time the finger returned and stayed, stroking her pussy lips, teasing them, ….. caressing them. Patiently coaxing them to unfold, to reveal the wet warmth of her labia and the hardness of her clitoris which, with each stroke, began to emerge from its tight hood.

Lisa could feel a weakness in her knees, she raised her hands to his shoulders, using them to support herself as his fingers continued their exquisite caress of her pussy. All the time her eyes locked into hers. She could sense two fingers at work now, sliding each side of her inner lips as they stroked upwards, moving round in circles as they reached her hard clit, caressing, teasing, squeezing. Fingers now made slick by the juices which escaped from within her as they passed upwards on each caress.

“Mmmmmmmm” Lisa faintly murmuring, admitting what she did not want to admit, that she was coming close to cumming again. He was making her cum using just his fingers. Her head fell forward as a wave of pleasure overtook her body. Through half-open eyes she could see his fingers moving over her sex, her skimpy thong now just a satin ribbon pushed to one side. She could see her breasts with their still hard nipples, she could feel the heat and passion building inside her abdomen. She was powerless to prevent the inevitable as his fingers started to move more quickly, more powerfully.

Then it was upon her like a steam-train “Ohhhh God …….. yessssss” barely audible except to the man who was now bringing her to these heights. Peter felt her passion rise and then, just as felt her tense, he pushed the two digits inside her

“Nooooooo,” Lisa’s legs nearly gave beneath her, she held on to this man whose fingers she now felt like two small penises, caressing the entrance to her womb. Her hot juices escaped her, she knew, she could see, them shining on Peter’s hand as it moved, slowly now, over her pussy. “What? …… What are you doing to me, this is wrong ….. so wrong” she moved her head up to look at him, to look into those eyes once more.

“I am releasing you Lisa. Allowing you to live your fantasy, for just this day.” He gently removed his hand and used the other to raise her head and kissed her once more. A soft kiss, just lip to lip; a long sensual kiss which allowed Lisa to slowly come down from her high.

Peter then moved back slightly, leaving her to stand alone. He caught her eyes once more, holding them in his gaze. She was initially unaware that Peter was starting to remove his clothes until a flash of white as his shirt was cast aside; then she was vaguely aware of him undoing his belt, and pushing his clothes down his legs before kicking them into a corner. Lisa knew he must be naked, but she could not bring herself to look, it was the last barrier and she knew it.

Peter’s hands moved to her sides and slowly pulled her towards him. She felt the tip of his penis, his slightly damp penis, touch her belly button before being trapped between their naked bodies. Her breasts became flattened against his sculptured chest. Then he kissed her again, a deeper kiss this time, his tongue exploring her mouth, moving into the very corners, his teeth against hers, strong hands holding her small body against his muscular frame. This kiss seemed to go on for ever; it started to release those same feelings inside Lisa, feelings of real passion, even lust.

She felt his hands move upwards, cupping her face, to release the kiss. He looked deep into her eyes and then gently but firmly applied downward pressure. Lisa felt powerless to stop him and sank slowly to her knees her eyes looking up into his until she felt his hard warm flesh against her cheek. She knew what he wanted and she knew that she wanted to do it for him, although she knew she should not betray her family in this way.

For the first time her hand went to his manhood. She seemed mesmerised, he was not long, about the same size as her husband, but the purple head which was now emerging from the foreskin was much wider. This was only the second erect penis she had every seen and the only non-circumcised one. She put out her tongue and touched the very tip, her first taste of this man. Then, forming her lips into a perfect ‘O’ Lisa slowly took the crown into her mouth, easing his foreskin back as she did so. She had read many accounts of giving perfect head and had tried many on her husband, she believed she was good – no complaints – but how to know?

She let her tongue run over the head, bathing it and felt Peter’s hands close around the sides of her head. Encouraged, she let the tip of her tongue run across the small slit at the top, then move around the whole head again. She ran her tongue around the back of the head, inside the ridge ad felt Peter’s grip tighten around her head, almost blocking out all external sounds as he covered her ears. She closed her mouth slightly, allowed her teeth to hold the head of his erect penis lightly by the ridge while she flicked her tongue over the head again, tasting the pre-cum which started to seep again from that small slit. She felt Peter shift slightly, moving himself deeper into her mouth, she felt the head touch the roof of her mouth, forcing her tongue down the underside of his cock. She became aware, for the first time, that he was shaven as her small hands rose to take the weight of his balls and caress the tightly drawn sack. He eased back and then gently moved forward again, a gentle fucking motion using her mouth like a second pussy. She steadied herself with one hand, enjoying the sensation as his hard flesh moved across her tongue, as the tip pressed against the back on each stroke.

She eased his member out of her mouth and holding it erect, used the tip of her tongue to caress the full length of him, starting at his not sack and slowly moving up to the head. She repeated the oral caress, looking up at the end of the stroke, catching his partially closed eyes as she sought to lick the latest spot of cum on her tongue. The next time she started further back stopping to gently suck each of his balls between her soft lips, before continuing onwards to the tip.

“Lisa that is so good … I just knew you would be.” Peter’s turn now to speak in a low tone, the sensations of Lisa’s oral caresses getting to him. He was close to cumming but he needed to test Lisa, to see if he was correct. To see if there was a Lisa who had not been seen before.

Peter held her head more tightly and pushed his cock back between her lips. This time the inward stroke was stronger, firmer, sweeping past her tongue to hit that spot at the back of her mouth. She looked up with questioning eyes. Had she done something wrong? The second thrust was the same, this time lodging at the top of her throat. Lisa understood, she had done this to her husband but only when she was in control and he was not as thick as Peter. She tried to relax and felt the next thrust move into her throat. An impulse to gag was stopped by Peter pulling quickly back but the fourth stroke was deeper still, she felt his balls hit her chin, felt that fat head of his cock lodge in her throat, felt herself start to gag, but this time Peter held her there longer. Her frightened eyes looked up into his face, was he trying to choke her?

He pulled back again and she sucked in some air sharply before Peter slowly pushed his cock back into her mouth, into her throat. He was holding her against him, stroking her throat, willing her to take him as deep as it would go. She felt her eyes start to bulge and fill with water, she wanted to gag, she could not breath, then Peter withdrew, pulling back completely, a curtain of saliva and pre-cum hung from the tip of his cock to her lips. He moved sideways, leaving a wet trail across her nose and cheek, then sharply back, his hard heavy cock smacking into the side of her mouth before forcing its way back into her mouth. She felt the rush, tried to relax her throat as his cock pushed firmly into her, she held his cock, trying to hold an angle which would allow her to swallow more. Then she heard him groan, he was moving fast now, his cock moving in and out of her mouth pushing into her throat. Then with one final thrust he pulled her head sharply forward, his cock lodged deep into her throat where he spasmed and spewed his cum.

Lisa had had cum in her mouth before and always swallowed but this was new, she could feel the thick salty cum slide down her throat deep inside. She felt him withdraw slightly as a second spurt hit the back of her tongue and throat. She looked back at him, his eyes tight shut now, beads of perspiration forming on his brow, his hips still pushed forward. She felt him again and more of his cum filled her mouth. She swallowed, then as gently as she could, she started to bathe his cock in the combined mixture of her saliva and his own cum. Slowly cleaning him.

When she had completed her task she moved her head back and sat back on her heels. Peter looked down into her eyes and saw the look he was looking for. The look that told him that she was indeed longing to fulfil her desires, her dreams, her fantasies. He slowly knelt before her and kissed, tasting the saltiness of his own sperm on her lips.

It was a long kiss, even a loving kiss; an expression of a new relationship which was just beginning. He gently eased her back onto the lambskin rug in front of the fire, the warm orange light from the flaming logs casting soft shadows over Lisa’s skin. Peter stayed kneeling between her thighs looking down at the women he wanted to possess. The woman who wanted to be processed by him.

He reached out with his left hand and took a single ice cube from the wine bucket. As it melted between his fingers, he let the thin trickle of melt water fall onto Lisa’s passive body, forming a fine rivulet across her stomach. When the first was melted he took another, this time letting the cool water draw a line around each of her small nipples. Then he took a third, but this one he placed on top of her right nipple, making her gasp at the sudden cold shock to that most sensitive area of her body. He took a third and placed it over the other nipple, sitting back watching as her body heat and the fire slowly melted them until only the hard nub of brown flesh remained in a small pool of water.

He took two more and repeated the process. Again she gasped as the cold blocks were placed on her hot sensitive skin.

They had barely melted when he took another cube. She waited for the cold to touch her breast, but jumped when, instead, the cube was placed on her mound. Again Peter sat back to watch the ice melt and form a rivulet down between her pussy lips. Lisa bit her bottom lip. This torture was exquisite and unlike anything she had experienced. As the first cube melted, Peter reached for another this time stroking it over her emerging labia to linger on her clit hood. A soft barely audible groan escaped Lisa’s lips.

When she saw Peter reach for another cube of ice, she moved slightly, giving him easier access to the space between her thighs. This time however, Peter help the ice to her pouting pussy lips, holding it there, watching as the heat from her pussy quickly turned the ice to water. The next cube, Peter held more tightly against her and Lisa started to wonder. “surely he was not going to ….?”. The next cube answered this unspoken question as Peter slowly pushed the fast melting cube between her pussy lips.

The cold sensation inside her was intense, almost burning as the cold cube passed over her hot interior. “No more.” A whisper, her eyes closed, her head slowly shaking from side to side “No more.” But the next cube followed the same path and was quickly followed by another. Lisa was not sure if she was in pain or intense pleasure, the sensation inside her pussy was intense, all her nerve fibres seemed to be on fire. More ice further intensified the feeling and she was aware that ice was staying formed into smooth oval shapes inside her, filling her entrance.

Still more ice followed and she could feel the cold travel inside her, higher inside her. Then a different sensation. Her eyes opened and looked down as Peter inserted his rigid cock between her numb lips. She could feel him surge into her body, pushing the remaining ice high into her womb, his thick broad cock opening her fully as his weight bore down on her lower body, driving deeper.

His fingers still cold from the ice, reached forward and took her hard nipple and squeezed it. Twisted it. Pulled it. He withdrew until the head of his cock has lodged just inside her. His free hand moved down and stroked her lips encircling his cock before coming to rest on top her distended clitoris. He stroked it, massaged it. Lisa tried to move; tried to move her pussy over his cock. Tried to fuck herself on his cock but the one holding her nipple refused to allow her any movement. If anything he seemed to be pulling her away, dragging her breast into a taut cone shape as his fingers held her. The massage of her clit continued, Peter seemed to know all the buttons to press and still he remained barely inside her.

She could feel the ice water trickle out past his cock while he continued to stroke her. The most powerful feelings were now building inside her. This was unlike any previous experience. It was building from deep within her; her backbone seemed to weaken as her lower body started to take over. She opened her mouth to speak but a mere gasp was all that came out.

Peter could feel her inner muscles start to contract he knew she was close, very close, but he continued the assault on nipple and clitoris. Lisa’s head was going from side to side; she was barely in control of herself. She tried to surge towards him, tried to impale herself, but still he would not give her that release. She felt her clit must be raw; she could no longer feel her nipple.

Then, suddenly, he let go of her nipple. The blood rushed back into it and all the nerves fired, sending pleasure waves to her brain. Her climax was upon her. She uttered a low guttural moan she surged against him and now, unrestrained, his cock speared into her core. The trigger was released, she screamed her release.

Peter’s cock surged into her body, pressing deep into her, inner muscles grabbing him, milking him. Still he drove forward, she felt him touch her inner walls and she came. Oh how she came.

Her body convulsed, She screamed. Her eyes opened wide, a look of lust and hate mixed into one look of utter satisfaction. She felt his cock twitch within her. Felt the splash of his cum against her insides, sending her into another climax and spasm. Another spurt seemed to burn her and reach high inside her. Then all was quiet, black, serene.

She opened her eyes and realised she was somewhere different. The room was candlelit she was on her back, her arms above her head, her legs spread. She tried to move but found that she was bound somehow. She tried to tug herself free.

“Don’t move.” Peter’s quiet voice of authority.

She looked around – discovering that she was back in her room and spread-eagled to her bed. Peter was by her side, naked, the candle light accentuating the hard muscles of his slim body. His penis semi erect. She realised that she must have passed out and that she had probably been out for some time.

Then she realised that the centre of the candle light was her. She looked down and became aware that a small candle had been placed on her right breast. Another was on her left, then she could see more, little points of soft yellow light all over her body stretching down. They were those small tea-lights used in lanterns and she now became aware that the small metal containers were hot on her skin, creating small areas of heat. Then she saw Peter pass her with a large candle in her hand – a large white candle at least two inches thick and over a foot long.

She could just see him at her feet, bending forward, then she felt his fingers gently opening her sex. She sensed she was still wet, his fingers gliding easily over her. She was just starting to enjoy the sensation when she felt something being pressed against her labia.

Lisa realised it must be the candle “No please Peter, not that.” Her eyes looking piteously into his, “It’s too large.” She bit her lip as the tapered end moved slowly into her body, the shape helping its smooth passage as her lips opened wider to accept the invader. Her whimpered cries of “Nooooo” went unheeded as the candle passed further into her. She could feel Peter turn it slightly as he pressed it remorselessly inside.

Peter watched carefully, the erotic sight as her labia stretched to accommodate the church candle was having an effect on his own body, his cock starting to rise as more of the candle slowly disappeared. He pushed on until he saw Lisa’s look change and he knew it must be close to filling her completely.

Lisa lay still, she dare not move for fear of moving the candles. The back of her mind sending signals to make her feel proud that she had successfully accepted this large object into her. Then Peter was at her side again, another candle in his hand – a large church candle which was lit, the small yellow flame giving off small black smoke trails as it fluttered in the breeze. He held it above her. She looked into his eyes – surely he would not? His eyes locked with hers as his hand turned slightly.

It seemed ages from when Lisa saw the clear droplet leave the candle until she felt the splash and pain as the wax dropped onto her soft belly. Her eyes flew open, her mouth about to shout, to beg him to stop when she saw and felt the next wax droplet. This landed higher up on her chest, the third higher still. She realised that she could not squirm, could not avoid the wax. If she did, then she would spill the little pots of hot wax in the other candles. She looked imploringly at Peter, aware that the wax droplets were working their way up her body. The sixth droplet was delivered with precision to her left nipple. She screamed as her tender flesh absorbed the heat, hardening with the wax into a point. Another scream announced the seventh droplet as it descended onto her right breast. As the eighth droplet landed again on left nipple she was aware that pain on the surface of her body was giving way to a deeper feeling. As the ninth droplet splashed on her hard right nipple she felt the unmistakable sensations of arousal developing within her. The momentary pain she felt on her tender skin was quickly absorbed and replaced with a yearning; a longing which came from deep within her, a desire to experience pain to lift her to new heights. Seemingly unable to control herself, her deep throated sigh in response to the tenth droplet, gave her increasing elevation away so that as the eleventh joined the ninth on her right nipple her body started to squirm; reaching up to try and capture this new droplet. She no longer cared about the small candles decorating her body as she moved in response to the small hot droplets of ecstasy dropping from above. Her eyes screwed tightly together, blocking out all other external stimulate as she concentrated on her breasts. She felt another droplet on her right breast (the fourteenth? She had lost count). She arched upwards to receive the next droplet on her other nipple but there was none.

Still she waited her body lifting, the small candles moving precariously on her body.

Still nothing – she craved the stimulation

Then she felt the pain, knowing instantly that the fifteenth droplet had been delivered with pin point accuracy to her clitoris, so exposed by the combined effects of the large candle which still stretched her labia and her increased state of arousal.

“Jesusssss,” her voice a soft harsh whisper; a hissed expression of her mixed feelings. Her eyes flew open catching Peter’s concentrated smile as he delivered another droplet on top of the last. The heat of her exposed flesh sufficient to ensure that the wax solidified more slowly; running down each labia lip to meet the hard cream wax of the object still embedded within her. Now her body reacted like never before.

“Yesssssss” she hissed the words again, her body arched upwards to meet the next droplet, the small candles moved and she felt pain now at several points across her chest and, of course at the very heart of her. She could feel the need for sexual release rise inside her, like a tidal wave starting deep within beginning to rise upwards She writhed beneath Peter’s blue eyed stare, locking his eyes with her own, several of the candles fell away from her body, their flames extinguishing as the molten wax doused the flame before emptying itself over her pink flesh. She saw Peter raise the candle a final time then she saw it move and a gleaming droplet of wax started to fall like a sparkling teardrop downwards; its final destination never in doubt.

Lisa did not need to feel it hit her, the thought of it was sufficient. That was the catalyst needed to throw her over the edge, to enable the tidal wave to hit her full bore. Her body strained and stretched upwards, her sinews standing proud from her pale skin as her orgasm started, a concentrated burst or energy which exploded and engulfed her body.

The wax droplet touched her but her screamed release was already on her lips. Peter watched her body, as the last droplet splashed onto her body, he saw her convulse, drag the large candle further into her body before partially expelling it, the cream surface smeared with her clear fluids. As her climax took hold, Peter watched as her body sucked the candle back into her body, deeper, much deeper than he had dared push it, only the very end now visible.

Now beyond all previous experience, Lisa’s body tightened further until it snapped like elastic, A single note of ecstasy emitted her lips, her muscles expelled the candle almost entirely, its sides smeared with her sweet juices. As Peter removed it, Lisa’s eyes rolled back.

rolled back.

She could not focus on him, she was only vaguely aware of him moving above her, loosening her bindings, strong hands lifting her hips off the bed as he eased between her soft thighs. The large candle fell back onto the bed, her labia now gaping lewdly open, the wax invader having stretched her wide open. She slowly became aware of his fingers caressing the distended lips of her labia, before she felt his hardness slowly being pressed against her rear portal. She was aware of the pressure and then slowly the burning as his rigid flesh slowly, but surely pressed past her anus. She knew she should be crying out in pain as he moved deeper into her body, fingers now pressing into her poor stretched pussy, twin invaders opening her body as never before. But instead of the pain, there was a different burning. An inner heat which drowned her normal responses in a tidal wave of passion and ecstasy.

She looked up at the man who was forcing her into uncharted territory, exposing her inner soul. She reached up, pulling him to her, urging him deeper, the physical pain overwhelmed by the mental joy as another orgasm started to build. Her muscles clenched and snapped taut, she felt him deep in her bowels, his fingers high in her vagina.

Eyes wide open, muscles tensed to the point of breaking. She could not speak, her lips barely mouthed the words “YES” and she felt his seed splash deep inside her. Her eyes snapped closed, colours – purple crimson red, bright lights and then nothing. Her orgasm too much for her conscious body to bear, she passed out into a deep sensual coma.

- - - - - - - - - — -

“Lisa” …… Lisa.” Somebody was shaking her “Are you all right?”

She floated back to consciousness. She was alone in a bed, she looked around and then up at the man standing in by her side shaking her awake. “Lisa?” the voice – Todd’s voice.

“We were worried about you.”

She looked around the room , but did not recognise anything. “Where am I?”

“Your hotel of course,” replied Todd, ” we thought we would surprise you and come up early.” She looked at the bed stand; a notice read “No Smoking – Armstrong’s Guest House.”

How had she got here? Had she been dreaming? It was some dream that’s for sure, and one she would remember for a long time. Still she still could not remember even arriving in Mallaig.

She rose to sit up. Her nightdress openings lightly as she moved. She felt a little stabbing pain and looked down. Down at the little red marks on her breasts and tummy. They looked just like small burns! But that could not be so, it was just a dream after all…

Tags: Fetish, Story