Excerpt from the opening of:

“A Close Encounter of the 4th Kind”

 

‘Now take off your clothes and lie down on the cross,’ Fennimore said.

Lynda Drake stared at her employer in disbelief.  ‘What did you say?’

Irritably Hugo Fennimore snapped: ‘you heard me, Miss Drake.  You know what’s at stake: a possible close encounter class three.  They need to be properly invited to manifest themselves…’

Lynda and Fennimore stood on the Hangleton Down in Wiltshire on a mild summer night.  Hands free LED headlamp flashlights strapped their foreheads illuminated the scene about them.  In the vale below the down were the scattered light of the village of Hangleton Underhill.  Lynda had helped Fennimore carry all his equipment up from where they had left the Land Rover on the nearest road.  Cameras and sensors had been set out in a wide ring on the scrubby grass.  Then he had laid out a cross of tinfoil over the apex of the narrow bow of the chalk-filled trench in the turf that extended down the hill into the darkness and had hammered heavy tent spikes into its corners.  She had not realized what they were for until now…

Fennimore’s sharp eyes narrowed, his wild hair fluttering in the breeze.  ‘What are you waiting for?’

‘Y… you’re actually asking me to take my clothes off right now?’ Lynda said.

‘Are you frightened that I will take advantage of you?  You should know me better by now. Do you want more money?  I thought I paid you perfectly adequately.  Very well then: a bonus of five hundred pounds for this special service.  I know you need it…’

Lynda did.  That why she had taken the job with Fennimore six weeks ago.  She was twenty and badly needed gap year work if she was to have any hope of going to college.  He published an online newsletter called “The Astral Investigator,” which was his mouthpiece for his speculations about Atlantis, ley lines, extraterrestrials, ESP and numerous old myths and legends, which he somehow believed were all interconnected.  He needed a PA/secretary as he dashed about Britain and sometimes Europe looking for the “truth” as he saw it.  Fortunately he had a private income sufficient to allow him indulge his obsession and could pay well.  So Lynda had indulged his fantasies with a straight face, although secretly she thought they were all crazy.  Then the day before they had come to Hangleton to follow up on recent reports of UFO sightings nearby...

‘Nobody else will see you,’ Fennimore pointed out. ‘Your modesty would be a minor sacrificing in the cause of revealing the greater truth!’ 

It was probably true that he had no ulterior motive for asking her to strip and offer herself like a sacrifice to the heavens, Lynda thought.  Although he was a wiry 45-year-old and not unattractive, he had not shown any sexual interest in her.  He could be intensely annoying and carelessly rude, but all he cared about was his work.  Lynda took a deep breath, feeling her cheeks burning, and then nodded.  ‘All right… I’ll do it…’

While Fennimore watch impatiently, she took off her headlamp, slipped off her anorak and then took off her sweater, hiking boots and jeans.  Her hands trembled as she reached for the clasp of her bra and then she bit her lip and pulled it off.  Her panties followed a moment later.  And then she stood naked on this deserted hillside in front of her employer.

Lynda had a pale complexion and a bright face that typically appeared slightly nervous and anxious to please.  She had a slightly snubbed nose, large brown eyes and a big hopeful smile.  Her wavy brown hair brushed her shoulders.  Her body was already womanly with soft pale breasts capped by large pink nipples.  She had a tight waist with a deep navel, pale fleshy buttocks and a thin wispy pubic bush that expose the pink lips of her plump deep vulva.

None of this appeared to arouse any carnal interest in Fennimore.  He studied her body in the light of his headlamp solely to make sure that she was suitable for his purpose, and then he pointed at the cross of tinfoil.

‘Lie down on that and spread your arms and legs wide,’ he commanded.

Trembling she obeyed.  The foil crackled under her, highlighting her body and reflecting its warmth back at her.  Fennimore fitted loops of rubber strapping to the rings of the tent pegs and began fasting them to her wrists

‘W… what are you doing, Mr Fennimore?’ she asked anxiously.

‘You need to be securely held down in case they try to levitate you,’ he said, binding more straps about her ankles.  ‘The longer they remain the more data I can collect…’

He said it so reasonably, as if it was quite obvious that what he was doing was perfectly sensible, that she felt reassured for a few more seconds until she realized how exposed and alarmingly helpless it made her.  Lynda tugged on the straps, but by then all her limbs were secured and the straps held her spread wide. 

Then Fennimore opened up one of the packs they had brought up the hillside and drew out a large silver vibrator.  It had a pair of crocodile clips with rubber tape wrapped over their jaws fixed to its base.  An electrical flex trailed from it over to a portable battery pack.

Lynda’s eyes bulged in alarm.  ‘W… what’s that for?’

‘You heard about the conditions under which they make their appearances.  This is to stimulate you to orgasm…’

That was too much!  Five hundred pounds only brought so much tolerance and humiliation.  Lynda began to tug frantically at her straps and shout:  ‘No… that’s sick… I… I’ve change my mind… I won’t do it… You can’t make me… umphhh!’

Fennimore had pulled a reel of heavy duty silver repair tape from out of one of the capacious pockets in his anorak, torn off a strip and slapped it across her lips.

‘Do you want to call unwanted attention to yourself, or even worse drive them away with your wailing?’ he scolded her.  ‘Who knows what senses they use or how sensitive they are?  Nothing must put them off…’

So saying he pushed the head of the vibrator up into her cleft, making her pubic lips bulge as it penetrated her.  Lynda groaned at the horror of it and then the feel of her nipples tingling and standing up in response.  Fennimore drove the shaft in all the way into her vagina until its base only protruded from her.  Then he clamped the bulldog clips to her outer labia, holding it in place.  Lynda whimpered as they bit into her soft flesh, feeling hot tears springing to her eyes…

She was being used as flying saucer bait…!