She was blond, and wore the uniform of the tourist industry, a kind of cross between
naval and policewoman, and she shut the door as soon as Mike was inside. She went to her
desk and sat down, looking cheerful. “What can I do for you today, Mr. …?”
“You can call me Mike … Leah.” He knew her name from her uniform nametag, just
beside her chest, which was bulging and open several buttons.
“All right, Mike,” she said, with a British accent.
“I`m from Canada … I`m here on a trade mission, but I just thought I`d stop by the
tourist bureau first.”
“You`d like to see a bit of our country before you leave,” said Leah. “I can
advise you on some of the sights.” She stood up and went to the counter to get some
pamphlets. “Here`s one,” she said, handing him a picture of a prison door. “This is the
London Jail, just a few blocks from here. It`s a very popular tourist attraction.” She
went around her desk and sat down, and opened a drawer and took out a pair of handcuffs.
“You should try wearing these,” she giggled. “It`ll get you in the mood.”
“Actually,” Mike said, “I`m not here to see about the popular sights. It`s another
reason.”
Leah dropped the handcuffs, confused. “That`s all I`m here for, though.” She
straightened her hat, picked up the handcuffs, and continued, sitting straight. “You can
still make it to the jail this afternoon, I think. Here … you really should try putting
these on. It`s good preparation. Go on … it`s fun.” She stood up, her skirt opening a
bit as she walked around the desk, holding out the old shackles. “These are almost from
the turn of the last century, see how well they work? Try them on, why don`t you?”
“I really came here for another reason,” Mike said.
“Go on,” Leah said, standing in front of him. “Be a good sport.”
“All right,” he said, putting his arms out.
“There,” she said, snapping them shut. Then she stood up, taking a step back and
to the side.
He sat in his chair, his wrists chained together. “Okay, I`ve humoured you.
There`s something I need to talk to you about. Could you please take them off?”
She went to the window and closed the blind. She turned, taking off her hat,
letting her long hair fall, and she looked suddenly more serious. “Why did you come
here?”
He was beginning to suspect that she wasn`t what she said she was. Why did she
close the blind, to the second story office? And why did she take off her hat all of a
sudden? She seemed like less of a cartoon character, the friendly British tour guide, and
more sinister. She straightened her jacket, but didn`t try to hide anything. Her chest
was jutting out as she gained control. “I`ve had far too many Canadians come into my
office, saying that they want to see tourist attractions. I`ve had far too many vermin,
coming here, wasting my time. Why did you really come to my place?”
She walked over to him, grabbed his hair, and pulled his head back. “Why did you
come here?” she whispered in his ear. She held his hair roughly, keeping him staring up
at a strange angle.
It was uncomfortable. He couldn`t do much except try to elbow her. He breathed
harder, while she hovered over him, so he could hear her breathing. “Didn`t you come here
because there`s something bad happening in your country, and you`re afraid to tell the
Canadians. So you thought you`d come here and mention it to us? You thought you`d come
running to me, saying, Oh, there`s something I have to tell you!”
She stood up, letting his hair go, putting her hands on her hips for a moment, and
then she went over to the counter, and came back with a whip! It was black, slender, and
had a rubbery tip. Where was it hiding before? It hadn`t been there before, he thought.
She put it on the desk in front of him.
He started to get up out of the chair, but she grabbed his hair and pushed him back
down.
“Uh ah,” she said. She kept a firm grip on his hair at the back.
“I don`t have to stay if I don`t want to,” said Mike. “All I need is the key to
these cuffs. Please tell me where it is.”
She laughed a cold laugh. “If you did find the key to the shackles, where would
you go?” Then she reached roughly and opened his hands in his lap, grabbing the whip, and
crashing it into his open palm. He recoiled, closing his hand. The sudden stinging
practically made his gasp … she put the whip on the desk. “That`s for trying to stand
up.”
He looked at his palm, and decided to remain seated. For the moment, he thought.
“That`s more like it,” Leah said. She picked up the whip, and started slapping her
palm gently, much softer than his own, but hard enough to remind him of the sound. She
walked around the floor with her elevated heels. She leaned against the counter, finally,
after taking off her jacket. “Scream if you want. Go ahead.”
Now her white top was thrust out. He glanced at her and noticed that she was large
breasted.
“It`s just you and I … no one can hear you scream … the house is empty. Now, let`s
get to it, shall we?”
“Get to what?”
She came over to him, holding the whip. But instead of hitting him, she put it on
the desk. She reached down and tugged at the chain connecting his wrists, feeling the
handcuffs, showing him he was trapped.
She opened his hand, the one she had hit. She ran her fingers over the red mark.
She moved her hands to his neck, and left them there. Finally, she ran her fingers
through his hair. Then she grabbed the whip from the desk while pulling his head back.
“I can take off your clothes, if you like,” she said, seeing his hands closed
tight. “Would you like me to fuck you up the ass?”
He shook his head. He kept his hands closed.
“Then tell me what you came to tell me,” she said. “You came running to this
place.” She stood over him, waiting. Finally she said, “You came here to tell me that
the police got the wrong man, and now he`s in prison in Canada for killing an American.
No one wants to admit it. Rather than say they got the wrong man they`re just going to
let him sit in prison, and no one will listen to you.”
“They did DNA testing,” Mike said. “How did you find out?” He had told one person
on the trade mission … Larry. He shouldn`t have trusted him, obviously. “I haven`t told
anyone.”
“Are you sure? Then you shouldn`t have told Larry. You shouldn`t tell anyone this
sort of thing.” Then she reached for the legs of his chair and pulled them out, so he
fell on the floor. Then she began to undress him, while he lay there helpless on his
side.
She opened his pants, and worked them down his body roughly. She was very strong,
and she pulled them down his thighs, and gave him a few smacks on his ass with the whip.
They were hard enough to make him still. Then she tore his shirt open at the front. She
lifted him onto his knees, his shirt open. He faced the window, sitting on his feet. She
put the whip on the desk. The slaps to his buttocks were shocking. He looked at her,
standing before him, and he felt completely vulnerable. She straightened her shirt,
professionally. He was naked from the waist down, kneeling in front of her, in shackles.
“I get so many like you,” Leah said. “Well, let me tell you something. You come
here, expecting that someone`s going to care, to listen to you about this guy who`s stuck
in prison, because he doesn`t belong there, after he`s been in prison for a decade, and
you`re the only person who really cares. So you thought you`d come and tell me? Why do I
care what happens in Canada, anyway? Don`t you think I`ve got my own problems? I`m just
a tour hostess, for heaven`s sake!”
Mike glanced at her. He felt afraid. With her feet slightly apart, hands on her
hips, she wasn`t done with him, her language said. He felt afraid of what would happen to
him, though.
“What do you have to say for yourself, then?”
“I wasn`t expecting it to go like this,” he said. “That`s for sure.” He looked at
her. Now, he wondered why he cared about the man wrongly accused of murdering an American
so much himself. He had cared so much, he had come to England and slipped away from his
Canadian group, thinking he`d find some way of passing the secret without getting in too
much trouble, and now he was definitely in trouble.
“I thought maybe there would be someone over here that cares … but I see that you
don`t. Can I please go? Now I know you don`t care.”
“But I don`t think you do, or why would you have come?”
“It was just an afterthought, really. Perhaps you could unlock me,” he said.
“I don`t think so.” She walked around him, slowly, her shoes knocking on the
floor. She stopped behind him. She was right behind him, he thought. And there was no
one else in the plain looking house they chose to put the office in … just the two of
them. He waited for her to grab his hair and pull his head back, but she stood in
silence, and he was strangely aroused. The next moment, though, he forgot it when her
shoe pushed into his back, and she kicked him forward, so he was forced to land on his
hands. He stood on his hands and knees, his wrists chained very narrowly, but he kept his
balance, at least. It seemed like an eternity, but it was only a few seconds, until she
hit him on the buttocks. He jolted, and then she hit him again. SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
“What do you think we do here?” she asked, bringing a searing pain every time she
applied the whip to his backside. “You think we`re waiting for the Canadians to come on a
trade mission … so one of them can sneak off? Sneak off and tell me about the prison
system? I`ll tell you something,” she said, whipping him again, making him blind with
wrenching pain, and he knew nothing else but the pain for another few seconds, “I get sick
of describing the tourist attractions, including the jail just a few blocks away.”
She came around, and put her hand on his forehead and pushed him back roughly.
“Sneaking off to tell someone about it,” she said, standing over him, while he sat on his
feet.
He looked at her, feeling ashamed for sneaking off from his trade mission … she
seemed completely right at that moment. It was such a ludicrous thing to do! “You`re
right,” he said.
“You thought you`d find someone to confide in, someone to tell your secret.”
“Yes … I realize how silly I was.” He struggled to stay in that position, with all
that pain back there. He nearly lost his balance, but stayed up.
“Sorry? Is that all you`ve got to say for yourself?” She straightened her shirt,
and then decided to take it off, rather than try to push it into her skirt … she took it
off, wearing a sturdy bra to hold onto those massive jugs … she was more comfortable, free
to move as she pleased, to hit him if she liked, and move him any way she wanted. He
looked at the thick bra as she turned, putting her blouse on the counter.
She was powerful looking, now turning around, in her bra and her skirt. She kept
her shoes.
He felt afraid, but still aroused. He didn`t want to find out what she had
planned, but some part of him did want to know what she had in store. On the other hand,
he felt like falling, on his side.
“May I please go now?”
“I don`t think you`re sorry,” Leah said, looking at him kneeling before her. He
had his shirt, though it was torn open. He could pull up his trousers and run away,
still.
“What would convince you?”
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