Hi Guys
This is my first story in a long time, so I hope you enjoy it! If I have any Irish readers, I just want to apologise in advance if the politics offends you - I merely chose it as a suitable background for my lead anti-hero.
Cheers
GT
*****
Elizabeth Barley was perhaps the last person you'd expect to be dangerous - at only five feet tall, and with a rather slender frame, fiery red hair and a sultry Irish accent, she looked more like a folk singer. This look was complemented by the large armchair she was sitting in, and the mug of tea she was drinking. In actuality, she one of the most dangerous women in London.
Her father, Jeremy, was a former high ranking member of the Ulster Volunteer Force, one of the pro-Unionist paramilitary groups who conducted a series of violent campaigns against Catholics and pro-nationalists during the Troubles. He had often told her of his encounters with former UVF leader Gusty Spence, and claimed to her that he had been one of the masterminds behind the bombing of McGurk's Bar in 1971, although she had no way of proving that; and in fact, had been something of a skeptic as she'd gotten older.
In the late seventies, though, after being targeted by a Provisional IRA assassin, her family had decided that the time had come to leave Belfast, so they packed and moved to London, where her father - always a criminal at heart - had started his own drug trafficking business, which had gone from strength to strength. His charisma, leadership skills and utter ruthlessness had proved useful as a crime boss. This meant that by the time she was in her early twenties, the Barley family was one of the most feared names in the East End. When her father had died of a heart attack when she was 28, she had taken over the business. She had subsequently conducted a violent takeover that effectively monopolised her position.
Although much more pragmatic than her father, there was one thing that Elizabeth did that her father never would have done; using her power for her own vices. She was gay - something that she had only been able to be open about after she took over - and had a particular taste for young flesh; girls in their late teens and early twenties. Her main sexual interest was in forced orgasms, and there was nothing she liked more than seizing a girl off the street and tormenting them for hours. She would never hurt them physically, but often, she didn't need to - the rush she felt when watching a restrained girl begging for mercy and struggling as orgasm after orgasm overwhelmed her was satisfying enough in and of itself.
The fact that she knew they would be too scared of her to go tell anyone was reason enough not to threaten them.
Which brought her to now, sitting in an armchair in the guest bedroom of her quiet weekend retreat in Chichester, sipping her mug of tea. The calmness of her demeanour was stark contrast to the terrified 18-year old girl opposite her.
One of Elizabeth's scouts, who scoured bars looking for targets, had marked her two weeks ago at one of the pubs near a major London university. She was very new, evidently in her fresher year, and certainly a complete work of art. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, her hair shortish and blonde, and her piercing blue eyes accentuated by their unusually large size. She looked almost like a mermaid, only she actually had the correct body parts, Elizabeth thought, sipping her tea.
Eventually, Elizabeth's crew had stalked her on her way home from the pub the previous night - she was quite drunk, and travelling on her own, which was already quite unwise in London on a Friday night. When she had turned off onto the dark, empty street where her flat was, they had leapt out of the van they had been tailing her in, grabbed her, thrown her in the back and sped off, injecting her with a tranquilizer to put her to sleep as they had done so.
Once there, the house staff had done the full works on the girl - she had been stripped naked, washed, shaved, her skin moisturised, and a light touch of makeup put on her face. Then she had been put in this special rack - which Elizabeth had designed after seeing something similar on a porn movie - and strapped in. Her wrists and ankles bound spread-eagle, another strap had been wound around her waist, and another around her hips, holding them in place. Several more had gone around her thighs and upper legs. Finally a strip of duct tape had been used to gag her. She was now completely unable to move, make a sound, or do anything about her situation other than look at the calm looking older redhead across from her, happily sipping her tea as if she had just finished church.
Elizabeth was savouring this moment - she loved the fear in her victims' eyes as they realised the helplessness of their situation. And this girl had particularly large eyes, which made her look like a deer in the headlights, and just heightened her cuteness. She was a real prize.
Eventually, Elizabeth finished her tea, got to her feet, and approached the girl, whose eyes widened and filled with tears as she approached, shaking her head and letting out little sobs of terror. Ignoring them, Elizabeth ran her fingers through the girl's hair, teasing little strands and smiling with fake warmth.
The girl stared pleadingly at her, but quickly gave up when she saw that there was absolutely no emotion or feeling behind those cold shark-like eyes that Elizabeth had.
Moving her fingers lower, she began to gently fondle the girl's large, pendulous breasts, gently circling her left nipple with her long fingernails. The effect was immediate - the girl let out a loud gasp of shock, and began to moan and whimper as the sensation began to take effect. Smiling, Elizabeth whispered to her.
"You like that, don't you, girlie?"
The girl didn't even notice. She just kept moaning, although the tears continued to stream down her cheeks. Chuckling to herself, Elizabeth leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. Then her hand began to glide down her body, over her stomach and... the girl stopped and began to scream, desperate for Elizabeth not to touch her where she was going next. But they couldn't stop her - in seconds, her fingers were gently stroking and teasing the super sensitive folds of the girl's labia.
This time, the girl screamed even louder, though for a different reason. She began to struggle and yank at her bonds, but it was no use. She was utterly helpless. As if to rub it in, Elizabeth slowly worked her fingers around and began to tease the girl's clitoris, causing her to almost jump (if that were possible) and make a very loud mewling noise. This caused Elizabeth to laugh at the girl.
"Aha, looks like we are super sensitive, down there, aren't we? I think something needs to be done about that, don't you?"
The girl's eyes widened again and she desperately uttered what sounded like the words "Please just let me go!" behind her gag. But Elizabeth was already digging around in a drawer until she found what she was looking for: a Hitachi wand. The scout who had marked the girl had already given her the settings that it needed to be at for the girl to orgasm (they had marked her by picking her up as a one-night stand), so she merely strolled over to the rack and held it up to about eye level, so the girl could see. "This is a special vibrator," she said. "I've programmed it so that, once I fit it properly..."
