Adventures of Tess

Continuing misadventures of plucky amateur sleuth, and professional submissive, Tess.

Disclaimer: Any resemblance to any persons who actually exist is purely coincidental.

-X

"Cannibals?" Tess repeated, staring in shock at the man sat across from her.

The pub was not crowded mid-week but was noisy enough that they could have their conversation without fear of being overheard.

Mark was sat next to her, sniggering quietly into his pint.

Simon, sat opposite, was grinning at her in delight.

The man, Mr Reece, (who Simon said was not actually his boss, except on a temporary basis), was nodding at her seriously.

"Well, yes," he said, clearly uncomfortable.

Tess frowned and wrinkled her nose in disgust. This was clearly too much for Simon who tipped his head back and laughed out loud.

"I don't find this amusing, Hinder," Mr Reece snapped out, and Simon immediately sobered his expression.

"I'm sorry, Sir," he said, contrite, "it just seems so unlikely."

"And this man is sure?" Tess asked.

Mr Reece had told them of a report from a member of the public, who feared he had gotten in over his head with a group of people who enjoyed sexual perversions.

Tess and Mark were no strangers to that which many would consider perverted, but this group enjoyed role play based around the idea of roasting willing victims.

The group who were unknown even to each other, apart from to their leader, would regularly recruit a submissive or two, men and women, via the paper and go off for a weekend jolly.

Out in the woods they would build a fire and tie their volunteers to a pole, then pretend to roast them while getting hammered and telling tall tales.

The whistle blower had admitted that these weekends had been taking place for over three years and no one had been harmed, but he was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable.

A couple of times recently they had engaged submissives who had seemed a little too willing to be sacrificed.

The group leader had seemed a little too enthused, and a couple of the subs had been slightly singed through being tied too close to the flames.

The concerned informant was a butcher by trade, and it was his job to prepare the actual meal, which was always a hog roast.

He had lost some memories during more recent weekends and started to have nightmares that he could not recall.

The events were becoming wilder. The orgies that went on all night were rougher.

It was starting to feel very dark and dreamy.

When the group leader had arrived at his home unexpectedly one night and left him with a book on New Guinea and another on anatomy, suggesting that their period of play and practice was coming to an end, the man had panicked and gone straight to the police.

"And you believe him?" Tess asked.

"I believe that something is going on, and I suspect it has gone far enough," Mr Reece confirmed.

Simon leant forward, more serious now, "Our suspicion is that that members of this group are being drugged. If they are experiencing hallucinations and memory loss they could be putting themselves at risk."

He glanced at Mr Reece, then continued, "They also may not know they are being drugged. Our informant was adamant he had never knowingly taken any drugs."

"Whether drunk or drugged they are at risk," Mr Reece confirmed, "how long before someone stumbles into the fire pit, or break their neck wandering about in the woods at night?"

"Or gets bitten somewhere uncomfortable," Mark muttered to Tess.

"What was that?" Mr Reece demanded, as Simon pressed his lips together and looked away.

"I said that would be rather uncomfortable?" Mark said, raising his voice.

Simon, still avoiding eye contact with Mark (Tess sighed, the two of them were thick as thieves since becoming friends), shifted forward a little more, his voice lower now.

"Look. I don't buy into this cannibal business. I think Mr Reece's informant is letting his imagination run away with him. No one, even drugged, would allow something like that. But if people are being unknowingly drugged by the chap that runs the group we need to act."

He made eye contact with both of them now," We need to get someone in there."

"Why can't you do it?" Mark asked.

"I'm the control, and I doubt I could pull it off. They want submissives," he winked as Mark snorted into his beer, "Plus they have advertised for a couple."

"My informant has gone to ground," Mr Reece told them, "Will you try?"

Tess and Mark glanced at each other. No more was needed.

Another investigation with Simon at the helm, of course they would try.

"I have no idea if I can pull submission off," Mark admitted, "but I can follow Tess's lead there. We have to apply and pass the interview first. We will go for that and then decide."

"Fair enough," Simon nodded.

"Thank you," Mr Reece stood and shook hands with Mark and Tess, before nodding at Simon, "Keep me informed."

"Yes, Sir."

They watched Mr Reece leave before re-taking their seats.

Tess rolled her eyes as Mark and Simon took one look at each other and started laughing.

"Honestly," she chided, "can't you grow up?"

"I'm sorry," Mark said, clearly not sorry at all, "but I can't believe he's taking this seriously. Who is he?"

Simon shrugged, "He was my bosses mentor and that's the thing. He's getting on a bit, but I've been told his instincts were always 100%, no one better."

He sipped his drink, "The truth is I think this missing butcher believes the risk, and that's why Mr Reece is so concerned."

"Plus he's right," Tess added, "even if the idea of cannibals in England is utter tosh, this group leader is clearly taking advantage of people and possibly putting them in danger."

Mark nodded, "Well we can only do our best at getting the job, then we shall see."

-X

That night after Simon had gone home and Tess was snuggled in Mark's arms, safe, sore, and well used, she let her mind wander back over the early days of their friendship.

Tess and Mark had first met Simon at a club they sometimes frequented.

The owner had been delighted to recommend them to each other and Tess had been excited by how much freedom Mark had given Simon and had thoroughly enjoyed the evening.

They had parted company with no plans to meet again.

Three days later, Tess, having had her regular trim, had gone to meet Mark in the park and found him sat chatting to Simon.

Simon invited them to afternoon tea, and they had discovered that they had so much in common. Particularly regarding their sexual interests.

Of course Simon and Tess found each other attractive, but they were friends who enjoyed each other sexually rather than lovers.

Mark was the love of her life, and much more her type.

Tess had always been drawn to the dark, dangerous, and dominant. Mark's tanned skin, thick black hair and piercing green eyes were a drug to her. One look and she had been his.

Whereas Simon was lighter, with his honey gold hair and blue eyes. His deceiving aura of innocence.

Tess adored his body, something Mark had no problem with at all, but outside of the bedroom, dungeon (or wherever their nefarious activities were taking place), she felt quite sisterly towards him.

He was tremendously glorious to admire though and he had punished Tess on more than one occasion for calling him pretty.

That second meeting had led to them taking Simon home with them for the first time.

Tess had quickly been stripped by the two men, who were teasing and testing her as they pulled her clothing free, with kisses, light slaps, and pinches.

By the time her hands were pulled behind her back she was already sobbing and panting.

Mark had mercilessly pushed deep into her throat, even as Simon was still securing her wrists.

Tess was on her knees on the bed, Mark gripping her hair and fucking her mouth as Simon, holding her bound wrists in one hand, began to alternately spank her bum and finger her.

Moaning around Mark's cock, she had spread her knees and willingly given herself over to the two men.

Simon had forced three orgasms before Mark shot down her throat and Tess had collapsed on the bed, her bum glowing and bruised.

Simon had thanked her, kissed her, and left. Mark had left Tess in her restraints as he rolled her over and took what he jokingly called his husbandly rights.

That had been the start of Simon joining their games and becoming a good friend.

He had been interested in their unusual lifestyle.

Mark wrote pornographic romance that was published, mostly in South America and Asia, under a female pseudonym. He worked from home and considered his BDSM interests as much research as pleasure.

None of his work had ever been published in England, or even in English. Had he tried, he would have quickly fallen foul of the Obscene Publications Act, which had been introduced in 1959 on the very day they got engaged.

Tess had never worked officially.

Despite being a natural submissive, she had a low tolerance for rudeness and stupidity and had quickly discovered that an awful lot of people in managerial roles were both rude and stupid.

She had inherited a private income and would never want for money. She also considered herself quite lazy.

However, her laziness was often overridden by her inherent nosiness and sense of justice.

She had a reputation in their local area as a bit of an amateur sleuth and was known as Miss Marple since tracking down the person responsible for stealing the vicar's fishing tackle.

Simon had quickly taken advantage of their interest in solving mysteries and some exciting adventures had followed.

Tess sighed and snuggled closer to Mark. Running her hand gently over his arm where he had a scar having been shot during their last undercover investigation.

The bullet had only just caught him, but seeing Mark collapsed on the deck of the ship, covered in blood had terrified Tess.

She gently smoothed his hair back, admiring his strong handsome features, relaxed in sleep, and made pale by moonlight.

It looked like another adventure was on the cards, but this time she would make sure that Mark stayed out of harm's way.

-X

The interview proved to be quite a challenge for Mark.

They had made it clear in their application letter, that they were a submissive, married couple with no close family or friends, who were currently out of work and needed the money.

Neither of them took to the group leader, Mr Daniels, who met and interviewed them in person, but it was particularly hard for Mark who had to hide his dominant nature.

There was no doubt that it was Mark that Mr Daniels was most sexually interested in.

In fact, Tess answered most of the questions, giving the impression that although they both liked to sexually submit, Tess was the boss in the marriage.

Mr Daniels took Mark to be shy and naturally submissive. Helped by the fact that Mark was so uncomfortable under the relentless assessing gaze, he actually blushed slightly.

When he did answer a question, it was in hushed tones, glancing at Tess for reassurance, and giving the impression that he was happy to do anything Mr Daniels demanded of him, as long as someone else was in control.

When the conservation fell into the 'hypothetical' discussion of passing limits and the ultimate submission, Mark wisely left the talking to Tess.

Wondering at her answers as she made it sound like giving yourself fully to someone that way was obviously the fantasy of all submissives, but who would ever have such an opportunity?

Neither of them missed Mr Daniels smug smirk, but on discussion with Simon afterwards, they both thought he was a fantasist and a control freak.

If anyone was to come to harm, it would be accidently.

Simon agreed with this assessment and, as the butcher had still not reappeared, was delighted when they were offered the job.

They talked again, as Mark would need to be willing to risk being touched and manhandled by a large group of men, and it was quite likely that both he and Tess would end up naked and exposed before they could discover how or even whether drugs were involved.

They were trusting Simon to pull them out of the situation, and Mark would need to remain in a submissive character for the whole time.

Mark agreed to proceed. He had taken an instant dislike to Mr Daniels and felt the man was potentially dangerous.

Both he and Tess knew of submissives who had gotten themselves into terrible situations due to their needs and been horribly taken advantage of. He wanted to help.

So on the night of the event, he and Tess waited at the rendezvous in the clothes, shoes and accessories provided by Simon.

Between the two of them, they were carrying around eight hidden radio trackers. Simon wasn't taking any chances.

All they knew was that the area was wooded and over three hours' drive away.

Mark and Tess entered the small bus with blacked out windows and began to make small talk with the excited and mostly upper class, masked men inside.

Their confidence high, until halfway through the journey the bus pulled over, and their clothing was left in a heap in a layby.

They were left only their shoes, as the bus pulled away and the conversation turned more to what awaited them.

-X

By the time the bus stopped, Tess and Mark being hustled out into the night, it was clear that they may be in trouble.

Luckily for Mark, the men in the bus had been more interested in Tess than in him, and so he had spent the remaining hour or so of the journey watching her be handed from man to man, forced to take most of them in her mouth and spanked.

it was impossible for Tess, knowing that Mark was witnessing her use, not to be aroused.

As impossible as it was for Mark not to be aroused. Although grateful that none of them had attempted to fuck her, he may have blown his cover if that had happened. Apparently the 'delightful Tess' was being kept for desert.

That was good, as far as it went, but would Simon reach them before desert?

Both Mark and Tess had their wrists secured behind their backs once they had been stripped, and so were helped from the bus. Hearts sinking as they realized that they were already surrounded by trees.

They both knew they had a tracker in their shoes, but Simon had lamented the reliability of such devices, and the bad signal in wooded areas.

Would he be able to find them at all?

Mark lowered his eyes as Mr Daniels alighted the bus and gazed at him. Uncomfortable under such scrutiny. Thankfully he was still rock hard from watching being Tess be used, so he hadn't accidently given himself away.

They were escorted through the thick if youngish trees, (this was no ancient woodland, which narrowed the search down not at all!) until at last they entered a small clearing. Still completely surrounded by forest.

Some of the men had been querying Mark's suitability, but Mr Daniels had insisted he was perfect.

"Perfect," he had repeated, his eyes scanning Mark's flat, carved stomach and down.

Tess hadn't missed Mark's frown at this declaration. She felt a wave of admiration for him, knowing how uncomfortable he was.

Mr Daniels took Tess and Mark's shoes, walking away from the clearing and into the dark trees and returning some ten minutes later. They were forced to kneel and watch as the pit was prepared.

Tess allowed touch and teasing and reacted exactly as she would at the club. She was Mark's best cover.

Mark hoped that his concern would read as fear in the dim light. He had softened slightly, and his heart skittered at the thought of Mr Daniels touching him.

The relentless stare was difficult enough to bear.

The group were mostly in high spirits and once the fire was set and burning brightly. The pole and ropes waiting on a table nearby, they opened the whiskey.

Mark had a hard head for whiskey, and his throat was dry, so he was happy to take a swig when ordered to do so.

If he was going to be tied to that pole and fake cooked, while moaning and groaning, he could do with being a little looser.

He was in no doubt that he could out-drink any man here.

Tess glared at him and then at the men when they offered her the bottle.

Mr Daniels insisted, and she was forced to drink. Coughing and spluttering. Whiskey running down her chin and breasts, chilling her, even though the night was warm.

She stilled when Mr Daniels gripped her chin, "Is my whiskey not good enough for you, young lady?"

"I'm sorry, Sir," she coughed, "I don't like it."

He pushed her face away roughly and losing interest held the bottle to Mark's lips again.

Mark drank, ignoring Tess's subtle head shake.

Whiskey wasn't a problem for him, he thought with a surge of irritation.

Mr Daniels briefly ran a hand through Mark's hair, "We need to let the fire burn and settle a little."

Mark nodded and blinked. Staring at the fire was making him giddy.

They watched, somewhat mesmerized as the men started to strip off. Handing the bottles around, feeding the fire, and stripping down to nothing.

Mr Daniels, the only man not masked, watched them indulgently. Within an hour every man was naked. Tess had given five more blow jobs, and a bottle was brought again to Mark.

He heard Tess's quiet hiss and felt annoyed. He could hold his drink.

He allowed Mr Daniels to hold his head back and drank deeply.

When he turned his head at Tess's quiet call, his eyes were nearly black, his pupils huge.

She shivered. Unsure if he was really even seeing her.

The men all laughed as Tess was again forced to drink. The thin man who tipped the booze down her throat, giggling when she leaned over and gagged. Not realizing in the dark that she had spat most of the liquid onto the ground again.

Tess took a gulp of air and looked around. She was starting to get angry, and scared.

She looked again at Mark, hoping for reassurance, and instead found that he was also laughing at her.

Feeling overwhelmed, she started to cry.

"Mark? Sweetheart?"

Her answer was more laughter from all around.

-X

Tess gasped as she was raised to her feet.

"Let's put this little morsel to one side," Mr Daniels said as he started to pull her away towards the trees, "Take him over to the table."

Tess struggled, "No, no," she begged, "Please, I want my husband."

She strained to look around as she was dragged to the edge of the clearing and struggled harder as she saw Mark was already laying on the table, eyes closed and unresisting as his body was held down and positioned.

"Please, stop!" she cried, her breath grunting out as she was shoved hard against a tree.

"Be quiet," Mr Daniels demanded as he held her in place.

Desperate, Tess let out a terrified scream. Sharply cut off when Mr Daniels backhanded her and pushed her sagging body back against the tree.

Tess shook her head clear to find a rope already around her body and the tree trunk. Her wrists still bound behind her back, and Mr Daniels securing a gag around her head.

He smiled evilly at the tears rolling down her face.

"Don't worry," he teased her, "You will be joining your husband very soon."

Then he turned and walked away, leaving her in the dark and for the time being forgetting about her.

His interest was elsewhere.

Tess sobbed for a moment or two, but then abruptly stopped.

It was obvious now that this was no game and Mark was in mortal danger.

The only sober man here was Mr Daniels.

Some of the men were giggling and excited. Others, like Mark, seemed more spaced out. But all were following Mr Daniels' instructions.

Two of the men, seemingly fascinated by their own actions, were holding Mark's legs apart.

Mark himself seemed oblivious to the danger that he was in, smiling into the darkness, but Tess could just see through the gloom and flickering light.