Garden Of Thorns

Chapter 1

Bound

Can I tie you up?

It was as if she’d swallowed a lump of ice cream.

Tie me up?

Wrapped in rope.

No, wrapt.

Held tightly, bound, unable to move. Victim, vulnerable to the master’s cruel whim.

Play it cool, don’t show too much excitement.

All right. If you like.

Great. Matthew slipped from her bed and rummaged in his sports bag. Jennie admired his slim buttocks, the shadow between.

What’s he looking for? Last time we made do with ties and my dressing gown belt.

He turned, hands filled with a mass of white cords, the ends dangling down to his erect penis.

What’s that?

He grinned shyly. Clothes line. Cotton covered, it’ll be quite comfortable.

Who says I want to be comfortable?

How do you want me?

Naked. Like a starfish.

Jennie complied, feeling the duvet against her skin, briefly, before it was whisked away. She resisted the urge to close legs and arms and curl up, defensively. Matthew climbed up by her side.

Wrists, he said. She held them out, to be crossed and wrapped in the thin rope, secured together. Matthew knelt astride her chest to pass the rope round the head-board, haul her wrists above her head, and tie it off. His cock-head, bobbing before her eyes, was tempting. She licked it. Too busy to enjoy the sensation, he grinned, and said, Later.

While he roped her ankles to the bed corners, Jennie tugged at the wrist-rope.

Secure.

She basked in her helplessness, her skin sensitive, defenceless against whatever it was he was going to do to her.

Dear Matt, you won’t be too cruel to me, will you? Just cruel enough.

Her legs stretched apart, Matthew stood at the end of the bed, between her feet and stared at her.

Jennie smiled nervously. He smiled back.

Are you nervous, too? I hope you know what you’re going to do.

I’ll tickle you, first, he said. His fingertips scraped the arch of her foot; when she didn’t respond, they dug in. Her feet curled with excitement.

I’m not ticklish.

No, I’m too horny.

I’ll try something else, then. He moved to the side and stroked her leg, from ankle to thigh, outside, then inside, approaching her sex closer and closer, but never reaching it. Getting wet, are you?

Jennie was. Her sex was weeping, yearning for his touch.

Do you like this?

Afraid her voice would tremble if she spoke, she nodded instead.

I’d better do something else. He rested his palm on her inner thigh, and tapped lightly. This was as arousing as the stroking. He tapped again, a little harder. Jennie swallowed. Harder still. It didn’t hurt; the threat was enough to raise her excitement to the next level. Tap. It didn’t hurt, yet, but the thigh was warming up, her sex swelling, hoping to share the punishment. The treatment continued, getting harder all the time. Slap. It was hurting now, her thigh was burning hot. As he raised his hand Jennie took a breath, held it for the stinging slap, then released it in a gasp as the burn peaked.

He stopped and blew on his hand. Getting hot, he admitted. Next time I’ll have to use something else.

Next time?

Your thigh looks red. Shall I do the other?

Jennie shook her head.

Sure?

She nodded.

But you’ve got no say, have you? You’re tied up; you’re in my power; I can do whatever I like. Matthew walked round to the other side of the bed, leant over, raised his hand. Jennie took a breath but didn’t protest.

I’m in your power; you can do whatever you like.

The hand fell lightly on her thigh. She breathed out. The hand raised and fell, sharply. The fierce sting made her gasp.

He smiled coldly. Whatever I like.

Jennie was frightened, but her sex was now as hot as her sore thighs. She watched him walk round the bed, looking at her, deciding how best to exploit this opportunity: her defencelessness. He approached her head.

Are you sure you’re not ticklish? He moved a fingertip in a spiral in her armpit. When she didn’t respond it drifted in circles, out towards her breast. You’ve got lovely titties. The finger ran round her breast and then spiralled slowly in. Jennie pushed her breast up towards the too-light caress. He smiled, raised the finger and watched her raise her chest further to pursue it. He took pity, caressing firmly, still with just a fingertip, dimpling her skin, working its way closer until it was travelling the smooth, dark halo of the nipple, which leaned always towards the finger, scraping softly against it.

Pretty, he said, taking the nipple between finger and thumb and tugging gently outward, stretching it and letting it go. This other one’s smaller. Let’s see if it’ll grow. He twisted and stretched each nipple in turn until he was satisfied with their erection. He kissed them, then grinned at her. Got some string, somewhere.

Jennie’s gaze followed him as he rummaged in his bag. He returned with a couple of lengths of thin string. Sucking a nipple into his mouth to stretch it, he wound cord round the base and tied it off. Jennie tried to get used to the pain while he tied the other. He stood back and admired the result. Each nipple was a dark red bulb standing atop a cord-wrapped stalk, and it stung. Throbbing pain connected her nipples with each other, and sent shocks down her body into her ripe sex. It faded gradually, but was renewed each time he ran the length of a finger over a swollen bud.

Jennie’s throat was dry; she coughed to clear it. He raised his eyebrows: speak.

Can you please make love to me now? I want you to.

Do you? He grinned. Ask me nicely.

Please make love to me, Matthew.

Ask me to fuck you.

Please, Matthew. Fuck me. Please fuck me.

Shan’t. He grinned. You’re in my power. I can do what I like. I can do what I like with you. He knelt between her legs, resting his forearms on her thighs. And right now what I’d like to do is tickle you. He blew cooling air over her sex. I want to tickle your pussy.

Matthew’s fingers stroked and probed her, running along her labia and dipping into her vagina. Her climax, already close, came nearer and nearer, until she was gasping, holding her breath, and gasping again. He stopped caressing her and looked up.

Your pussy’s very pretty, but I can hardly see it for all this fur. He patted her mound. It’s got to come off.

Oh please don’t.

Sh! Keep your mouth shut… He grinned. Until I tell you to open it. He turned back to his bag again. In fact I think I’ll have you blindfolded for the next bit. Do you want a gag, too?

N— Jennie shook her head.

Okay. Shut your eyes. Matthew wound a torn strip of dark material round her head, over her eyes, and tied it. Blindfolded, Jennie was free to imagine all sorts of horrors, able to focus on the touch and sound of cold scissors at her bush. She felt him tug a pinch of fur then heard the slice of the scissors as the tension released. She tried not to flinch at the touch of cold metal when it came. Over and over. At last it ceased and she felt him move away. She strained her ears to discover what he was doing now.

He returned, and now there was a cold dragging at her skin and a crisp sound. The razor! This was scarier than the scissors, especially when he worked between her legs, stretching the skin with one hand while the other shaved her. Eventually this too was over.

Now I can see you properly, he said. What a pretty pussy. He stroked her fresh-shaven mound and caressed her labia, teasing them outward against the naked outer lips. Looks good enough to eat." She felt his lips against hers, his tongue probe between then, licking upwards and intruding under the hood to torment her clitoris.

I wish you’d keep yourself shaven like this. You’re so beautiful.

Maybe I shall. I feel so naked down there. Lord, I’m ready for him. Jennie took a breath.

Will you fuck me now, please?

He laughed, and she felt him move away.

Where’s he going now? Just teasing me again? Or has he another torment in mind?

He climbed astride her chest and leaned his hands either side her head. Yes, Jennie, I’ll fuck you, but first, you’ve got to do something for me. You’ve had all this fun and attention, and now it’s my turn. You can open your mouth now. I give you my permission.

His cock-tip tapped her face and she opened her lips and took it in. It was swollen; its head filled her mouth. She sucked gently and ran her tongue along the underside the way she knew he liked.

I hope you’re not going to come in my mouth.

She took a sighing breath.

If you decide to, there’s nothing I can do about it.

At the thought, her sex wept anew.

It was close, but Matthew didn’t come in her mouth. He moved down her body, sparking new pain and delight from her bound nipples, then presented his penis at her entrance and entered her with a single thrust. Her vagina stung at the sudden extension, but then he paused. She felt the sheath distending, accommodating the stout intruder, caressing its length.

Well? he said.

Well, what?

Ask me. Go on. Beg.

His penis was embedded, hot and stiff, filling her perfectly. She was ready.

Please, Matthew, I beg you to fuck me. Fuck me, darling. Please.

He stayed still for so long that she opened her eyes.

You’re going to do it, aren’t you? You’re not going to pull out now.

Matthew smiled benignly down at her then withdrew slightly. Ready? She nodded, several times.

Slowly at first, then faster and faster, Matthew fucked her. She came before he did, but gratefully relished his crescendo and the pulsing of his stilled penis inside her.

After all, I can’t prevent it. He can do whatever he likes.

Jennie was still enjoying the aftermath of lovemaking as he released her bonds. He watched as she curled and stretched her limbs, then carefully unbound the cords from her nipples. Oh! They prickled as circulation was restored.

All right, love? he asked.

Yes, thank you. That was… Exciting. Did you enjoy it?

Yes. I’ve got all sorts of ideas for the next time we do it.

Next time?

There’ll be a next time, won’t there? It wasn’t so awful, was it?

She curled round him with her head on his thigh. Yes, darling, I think so. But first, there’s something I want to do to you.

He frowned. Do to me?

Yes, to you. Jennie smiled up at him. And I’m going to do it right now. She squirmed until she was comfortable, then took his cock back into her mouth.

Chapter 2

Bastards

I’m sorry, Miss Hughes, there’s nothing I can do. The handsome man behind the desk contrived to look sad.

Not as sorry as I am, you smug bastard.

You’ll be paid up to the end of the month, which, considering, is fairly generous.

Generous? Jennie spat. You can fuck yourself with your generosity!

She marched out of the office without even slamming the door. Bastard!

When she got to her desk she found a cardboard box with her possessions in it. She looked round the office. Everyone had their head down, ashamed to met her eyes. Thanks, bastards!

She tipped the box out onto the desk, picked through it, selected only the photographs, put on her coat, and left before anyone could remark on the tears streaming down her face. She left the mess on the desk.

Let them sort it out and chuck it away. Bastards.

On the bus home, Jennie looked through the photographs. The one of Matthew she kissed automatically and tucked into her purse. There were several of her with people from the office. She tore them into tiny pieces and posted them through the window. They fluttered into the street. The neatly dressed old lady sitting opposite sniffed, but Jennie didn’t even stick out her tongue.

The last one was of Carol, in her wedding dress. The words PHOTOGRAPHER’S PROOF were stamped across the picture Jennie had stolen. Blonde, shapely Carol had been her boss, and Jennie’d not realised how she felt about her till the wedding, when it was, obviously, too late. She clutched it until tears blurred the image, then slid it alongside Matthew’s picture.

He’ll have to get a job, now. Can’t have us both unemployed.

She stared unseeing and let tears run, unhindered, down her face.

Are you all right, love?

It was the disapproving woman, extending a hand like a mottled claw. Jennie wiped her coat sleeve across her face. Yes, yes, I’m fine.

Do you want to talk about it?

No—no thank you. Jennie looked through the side windows. This is my stop. She pressed the bell and started to stumble along the aisle. The bus braked and she grabbed a stanchion. She turned back to the woman. Er… The woman looked up at her. Thanks. She nodded and smiled.

Jennie walked past Mr Williams’s newsagent’s shop and down the passage to the outside door of the flat she rented from him. The door at the top of the narrow stairs was unlocked. She pushed it open and entered.

Hi, loverboy, I’m home.

Matthew looked up from the settee, his face illuminated by the laptop on his knees. A girl was curled up beside him. They looked at Jennie. The girl glanced at the laptop again and giggled. She was naked.

You’re early, he said, closing the laptop but leaving it on his knee to cover his nakedness. They give you the day off?

"Yes! She glared at the girl. You; get out."

The girl climbed off the settee clutching her breasts. Her pubis was naked and she’d got tattoos all down her arm. Matthew had always wanted Jennie tattooed. I’ll get my things. As she passed, she smelled of sweat and vanilla. Jennie recognised the odour; she’d remarked on it last week; Matthew had told her he’d been sprayed with perfume in a department store. Lying bastard.

And you, she said. You can get out as well.

I’m sorry, love. She wanted to see my laptop, and, well, one thing led to another, and… I didn’t mean to. We didn’t mean to.

So when did this happen?

This morning.

"Get out. Get out, will you? You’re a lying, cheating bastard, and I never want to see you again. I know she’s been here before. I’ve smelt her on you. How long has it been going on?"

Matthew opened his mouth.

"No! don’t tell me; I don’t want to know. You can just fuck off, the pair of you. While I’ve been at work, you’ve been lazing about here, fucking that whore in my bed! Well, I’ve got news for you. I’m not going to work anymore, so you’ll have to go and fuck her somewhere else."

Don’t you call me a whore, said the girl. She now wore leopard print leggings and an off the shoulder t-shirt. "Just just take a look at what’s on Matty’s laptop before you start calling anyone a whore."

What? Jennie snatched the laptop and flipped it open. The screen was mostly pink and she couldn’t make out what she was seeing. A flower? It’s out of focus. She tabbed to the next picture. This was clearer. A blindfold, naked girl, bound spread-eagled on a bed. She tabbed again: another view; then back to the first one. He’d taken close-ups as well. She could see a hair or two he’d missed shaving. "You filthy, perverted bastard!"

She flung the laptop at him. He fielded and caught it, then stood. I’m sorry Jennie, I didn’t mean to. I just thought—

You thought you’d never get the opportunity again. Well you were right. You won’t. Now go.

He retreated to the bedroom, holding the laptop to hide his groin. She turned to the smirking girl. You too. Now. You can wait for him downstairs.

The girl flounced off, wiggling her bottom.

In the bedroom, Matthew was throwing things into a case. She knew he’d take CDs that belonged to her as well as those they’d bought together, but she was beyond caring; she just wanted rid of him. At last, he was satisfied, and she stood, lips pursed, as he lugged his spoils past her and out. There was a crash and a rumble on the stairs. She shut the door without looking.

Jennie busied herself, tidying the flat, changing the bed and dumping reminders of his existence in a waste sack: dirty underwear; pornography—he’d carefully packed all his comic books—the bondage ropes. She went through her photographs, tearing his image off them and throwing the fragments away.

She was putting the sack by the dustbins when Mr. Williams came up to her. A word, Miss Hughes, if you please. He’d put on a thick Welsh accent, as he often did, as a joke, pretending they were both from the valleys.

Certainly, Mr. Williams, Jennie replied in kind.

You’re no more Welsh than I am. Perhaps, generations ago, but I’ve no relatives in Wales now. But if it pleases you…

Can we go upstairs, please?

Would you like a cup of tea? I think there might be some milk.

That would be kind.

The big man followed her heavily up the stairs. Jennie could almost feel his eyes on her rump.

If it pleases you…

He’d never laid a finger on her and was exaggeratedly polite, but she always had a feeling about him.

Perfect gentleman—on the outside.

She busied herself, putting the kettle on, while he stood in front of the settee and loomed.

I’m sorry, there’s no milk. Matthew— and his whore Must have finished it.

That’s all right, Miss Hughes—Jennie—I may call you Jennie?

If you like, Mr Williams. Will you sit down?

No, thanks, Jennie. I’ve called about, well, it’s the rent, you see.

Oh.

It’s not been paid.

But I gave Matthew the money to give you… She took a breath.

The bastard!

I’m sorry about that. He must have forgot. But he’s gone, now, so I can’t ask him.

Gone? Yes, he said he was going.

Oh?

He called to see me, just now. Said you’d lost your job.

So he does listen, sometimes.

I’m sorry to hear it, but the rent must be paid.

I can let you have a little on account, and if you can give me some time…

I’m afraid you’ve already had time.

Time? But it was only last week…

It’s been three months.

"Three months! Jennie sat down. Three months? But I gave him the money, every month, honest I did."

Bastard.

He said it would be easier for you to collect it if I left it with him.

I’m sorry, Jennie; it’s not been paid. Budge up. He lowered his bulk onto the settee beside her. The cushions tilted, and she had to move further away to avoid tipping against him. I’ve got to ask: what are you going to do about it?

Three months’ rent? I suppose I’ll be paid till the end of the month, but I’ll still be short.

Sell something? Matthew took everything of value, including the laptop I bought him for his birthday.

Williams patted her hand. Never mind, love. We’ll work something out.

But I’ve got no money.

People don’t just want money. His hand rested on hers. You could do something for me.

Work in your shop, you mean? Yes, yes, of course. Oh, thank you, Mr Williams.

No, I don’t think so. Not in my shop. I’ve got… No vacancy, see. No, I was thinking of something else.

Work somewhere else?

Yes, if you could call it that. You see, Jennie, you’re a very attractive girl, I’m sure lots of folk would like you to… Do stuff for them. I mean, I, myself…

He raised his hand and patted hers again. She withdrew it. His hand lifted slightly, hovered over her thigh. They watched him pat her thigh, once, twice, again, gradually settling its warm weight on her flesh, gripping her briefly and releasing her. Where his hand had been her leg felt cold, a chill that spread rapidly into her abdomen and chest.

"You want me to… For the rent?"

It’s three months, and you haven’t got it. There was no Welsh in the voice now. "What are you going to do?"

I, I don’t know. Jennie was close to tears.

Well I do, love. The lilt of the valleys returned, liquid and cajoling. "You’ll see: I can be very gentle. And so grateful. You really are very pretty. It’s a shame to see it going to waste. When you could be really appreciated. And you could stay here for, well, a reduced rent. We could negotiate that. He put his arm round her shoulders. He smelled of sweets and deodorant. What do you say, darling? I’m, I’m very fond of you, you know. I’ve got tender feelings for you. I wouldn’t like to see you flung out on the streets. On the streets. He hugged and released her. She shivered. Tell you what: you think it over for a bit, eh?"

Jennie struggled to her feet and stood facing him. No. No! You’re just like Matthew. You just… Leave me alone. She folded her arms tight across her chest.

Williams looked up at her. His smile disappeared. He rocked forward and back and hauled himself up off the settee. Jennie took a step back and he raised a hand.

No, lovey, I wouldn’t force you. It’s not my way—though there’s some as would. He stepped forward. She stood her ground. You think it over, sweetheart. I’ll be kind to you, I’ve got a soft spot for you. But: three month’s rent. He shrugged, ponderously, then turned to go.

Jennie listened to his heavy footsteps on the stairs.

Three months’ rent! Bastard.

She sat and wept and worried.

Would it really be so bad to be nice to Mr Williams?

She stood and stamped her foot.

Yes, it would!

It was dark when Jennie put on her running gear and set off. She ran three times a week, early in the morning, before most people—especially Matthew—were about. It woke her up and helped her think things through. Matthew hadn’t taken her headset, so she had music as she set off into the lamp-lit streets.

There were more people about than she liked, and some called after her. She ignored them and sought more deserted streets. The rhythm of her feet, the rushing of her breath, the pumping of blood, calmed and cheered her.

If Mr Williams throws me out I’ll see if I can sleep on Rhoda’s floor for a few nights.

She was well and strong, able to accept the challenges of the world.

So today’s been a shitty day. Well, shit happens. I’ve just had all mine in one go.