distinctive features, rendering her face to an ebony sculpture. He stroked her thighs gently. "Straighten your legs," he whispered. "I want to look at you."
Slowly she complied, her lips trembling below the edge of the mask. Laid out for him under the unforgiving eye of the lamps she was a feast. "Open you legs," he murmured as he circled her nipples, delighted that they hardened under the merest touch. The rings looked superb; Johnson had been right in his decision to pierce her. He bent closer and took one between his lips, sucking the little fleshy peak and the cool ring into his mouth. She shuddered, obviously afraid that the flesh would tear.
As he kissed and sucked each peak in turn he moved his hands lower to stroke her sex; so tempting but as yet unavailable. He parted the lips gently above her clitoris and then kissed a soft moist route down over her belly until the little peak nestled between his lips.
Beneath him the girl began to moan – at once both afraid and excited. As his tongue worked faster she lifted up to meet his caresses. Her sex tasted of the sea, of a dark ancient ocean that compelled men to seek it out.
God, he would like to fuck her, feel his cock buried in that tight wet tunnel. The ring was just a gesture, a symbol, if he'd wanted to he could have slipped inside her…
Instead he pulled back, as the girl's pleasure began to drive him out to the edge of recklessness. He stood up and undid his trousers, guiding his stiff angry cock towards her trembling mouth. As she felt it brush her lips she shuddered and then opened for him.
"Carefully," he said in a low voice. "If you bite me, Leonora will take the greatest pleasure in pulling you teeth."
The girl stiffened momentarily and then began to lap and suck at him; a terrified puppy who sought only to please. Max Fielding smiled to himself and slipped his finger back towards her sex; after all there was no need to be stingy with pleasure.
Chapter 3
"And just where do you think you're going?" said a crisp, efficient female voice.
Peter Howard was almost relieved to be caught trying to make his way to the nurses' station. The corridor floor was spinning up to meet him as he leant breathlessly against the wall outside his room. A strong pair of arms caught him under the armpits.
"I just wanted to get my things."
The corridor lights seemed to be darkening around him and his voice was disappearing down a distant echoing tunnel. He clutched frantically at the smooth walls.
"If you can just hang on for a split second," said his rescuer, "I'll grab a wheel chair and we'll have you back in your bed in no time. You should have rung if you wanted anything."
Peter was looking up into the eyes of a statuesque strawberry blonde dressed in a crisp navy blue dress. The uniform did nothing to disguise the fact that she had a figure that would drive most men insane. She smiled coolly at his appraising and appreciative stare. "I can see you're on the mend," she said with amusement. "So what was it you were looking for?"
Peter focused on her name badge. "Sister Ruskin?" he said in surprise.
She nodded and took hold of his wrist. "My, my, but your pulse is racing, Mr Roberts. I think we'd better get you back into bed."
Peter nodded. "I wanted to see the things they'd brought in with me – when they fished me out of the water?"
She gave him an indulgent look. "Did you try looking in your bedside locker?"
Peter blushed. "I never thought -" he began but the Sister's expression stopped him in his tracks.
She winked at him knowingly and wheeled him back into his room. As she helped him into bed Peter could detect a tiny but unmistakable hum of desire in her touch. He glanced across at her; her pupils were dilated and glittered darkly like jet. He didn't want to betray his ignorance and waited whilst she crouched to retrieve what was in the bedside locker.
His heart leapt as he saw the familiar contours of his hold-all – it appeared unscathed – but there
Slowly she complied, her lips trembling below the edge of the mask. Laid out for him under the unforgiving eye of the lamps she was a feast. "Open you legs," he murmured as he circled her nipples, delighted that they hardened under the merest touch. The rings looked superb; Johnson had been right in his decision to pierce her. He bent closer and took one between his lips, sucking the little fleshy peak and the cool ring into his mouth. She shuddered, obviously afraid that the flesh would tear.
As he kissed and sucked each peak in turn he moved his hands lower to stroke her sex; so tempting but as yet unavailable. He parted the lips gently above her clitoris and then kissed a soft moist route down over her belly until the little peak nestled between his lips.
Beneath him the girl began to moan – at once both afraid and excited. As his tongue worked faster she lifted up to meet his caresses. Her sex tasted of the sea, of a dark ancient ocean that compelled men to seek it out.
God, he would like to fuck her, feel his cock buried in that tight wet tunnel. The ring was just a gesture, a symbol, if he'd wanted to he could have slipped inside her…
Instead he pulled back, as the girl's pleasure began to drive him out to the edge of recklessness. He stood up and undid his trousers, guiding his stiff angry cock towards her trembling mouth. As she felt it brush her lips she shuddered and then opened for him.
"Carefully," he said in a low voice. "If you bite me, Leonora will take the greatest pleasure in pulling you teeth."
The girl stiffened momentarily and then began to lap and suck at him; a terrified puppy who sought only to please. Max Fielding smiled to himself and slipped his finger back towards her sex; after all there was no need to be stingy with pleasure.
Chapter 3
"And just where do you think you're going?" said a crisp, efficient female voice.
Peter Howard was almost relieved to be caught trying to make his way to the nurses' station. The corridor floor was spinning up to meet him as he leant breathlessly against the wall outside his room. A strong pair of arms caught him under the armpits.
"I just wanted to get my things."
The corridor lights seemed to be darkening around him and his voice was disappearing down a distant echoing tunnel. He clutched frantically at the smooth walls.
"If you can just hang on for a split second," said his rescuer, "I'll grab a wheel chair and we'll have you back in your bed in no time. You should have rung if you wanted anything."
Peter was looking up into the eyes of a statuesque strawberry blonde dressed in a crisp navy blue dress. The uniform did nothing to disguise the fact that she had a figure that would drive most men insane. She smiled coolly at his appraising and appreciative stare. "I can see you're on the mend," she said with amusement. "So what was it you were looking for?"
Peter focused on her name badge. "Sister Ruskin?" he said in surprise.
She nodded and took hold of his wrist. "My, my, but your pulse is racing, Mr Roberts. I think we'd better get you back into bed."
Peter nodded. "I wanted to see the things they'd brought in with me – when they fished me out of the water?"
She gave him an indulgent look. "Did you try looking in your bedside locker?"
Peter blushed. "I never thought -" he began but the Sister's expression stopped him in his tracks.
She winked at him knowingly and wheeled him back into his room. As she helped him into bed Peter could detect a tiny but unmistakable hum of desire in her touch. He glanced across at her; her pupils were dilated and glittered darkly like jet. He didn't want to betray his ignorance and waited whilst she crouched to retrieve what was in the bedside locker.
His heart leapt as he saw the familiar contours of his hold-all – it appeared unscathed – but there
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