Chapter 1

 

Ailsa put up her umbrella against the driving rain and hailed a cab knowing she didn't usually have a long wait outside the Old Bailey.

She wanted to be well away before the media scrum started outside the court with Marlene and her family making embarrassingly emotional statements. The TV cameramen were already in place. The press would call it another triumph for Ailsa Bennett QC, the latest in a long line of high profile successes.

Ailsa was pleased to have won but she had other things on her mind.

The black cab dropped her outside a block of anonymous looking flats. Anonymous was fine. Anonymity was what she wanted.

She was relieved to see the lift was working. In her experience the chances were about fifty- fifty.

Ailsa travelled to the third floor and knocked on the door of Flat 106.

An overweight middle-aged man opened the door and let her in without a greeting and as they walked into the main room silence was maintained in accordance with Ailsa's requirements.

Ailsa went to a bedroom, undressed only as far as taking off her expensive looking dark suit, high heels, and sheer tights, then returned to the main room in her shirt and panties.

Harold was sitting on a wooden backed chair waiting for her.

Ailsa clambered over his lap and he spent a little time adjusting her position. He pulled down her lace-edged panties as far as her ankles and folded back her shirt so her shapely bottom was bared.

He ran his right hand over Ailsa's smooth cheeks a few times before he delivered the first slap which sounded loud high up in the silent triple- glazed apartment.

He then proceeded to spank her arse hard, quickly establishing a brisk, steady rhythm so her quivering cheeks reddened rapidly, from very white to pink to scarlet, to a color somewhere between crimson and purple. It was a sound OTK spanking without pause or let-up but it didn't elicit cries or indeed any sound from Ailsa's lips. Her light auburn hair around her ears unraveled a little but otherwise she more or less maintained her composure though she occasionally kicked her slim legs in the air.

She was already looking forward to going about her business for the rest of her day with her arse glowing.

His cock was hard in his trousers and he was anticipating jerking off when she'd gone.

The intimacy between them went no further than male hand slapping female arse.

When he finished he pulled her panties up again so that when she stood he couldn't see her cunt though he knew she wasn't shaved there because he could see her bush through the material.

This lack of further intimacy was in accordance with Ailsa's requirements.

She'd found Harold on a spanking website and he'd readily agreed to attend to her needs even though she turned down the rest of the dominant-submissive package. She understood her own psychology perfectly well. She was so dominant in her personality, so commanding in her profession, she needed an antidote sometimes. She dominated any court room she appeared in. Boyfriends and a couple of girlfriends (really very few in total over the years) did as they were told. The idea of being put over a man's knee, having her knickers pulled down, and her bare arse spanked like a naughty girl thrilled her as long as there were no strings, no relationships, and no hint of taking it any further. She just needed to surrender control completely for a time each week.

She'd no idea if Harold was her spanker's real name and didn't want to know. She guessed he did a lot more to other women he met through the website (he'd once asked her if he could cane her) but felt lucky to have an attractive middle class professional woman to put over his knee.

He was pretty gross in any case, practically obese, with broken teeth and smelt a bit of stale sweat.

He had a large heavy hand, however, and he laid it on.

She loved being in court after a spanking with the judge and jury, and her adversaries, completely unaware that, under her cool exterior and tight little skirt, her arse was on fire and that when she sat back down after cross examining a witness she did so very gingerly; it would need a very observant person to notice the little wince of pain.

She knew he got erections when he spanked her. She could feel them sometimes as she slid across his lap. She didn't mind that since his cock stayed inside his trousers. She imagined him having a stiff wank after she'd gone. He looked the part for a wanker and an obsessive watcher of porn, quite creepy really, but he performed a function and fulfilled a need.

 

She got dressed again.

'Next week?'

'I'll text you.'

Ailsa smoothed down her skirt over a bottom still throbbing with pain and made a minor adjustment to her hair. No money changed hands; it wasn't that sort of arrangement.

She came out into the brightness of the street (the rain had stopped) ready to walk down a few blocks to where taxis were likely to be more plentiful. She'd walked a short distance before she felt a sharp object pushed into her back and a voice saying, 'keep going...my car isn't far away.'

Ailsa half turned her head and saw a big black man wearing a short outdoor jacket in which the knife was concealed. He was trying to make the pair of them look like friends walking closely together. He reached inside her suit jacket pocket and took her mobile phone.

At first she couldn't think of anything to say and allowed him to propel her along.

'I don't have much money on me,' she said finally.

She started to unfasten her watch strap. 'My watch is quite expensive,' she told him. 'Cartier.'

'Just keep walking Miss Bennett.'

Later she wondered what would have happened if she'd just stopped and stood her ground, refused to move, but she was shocked that he knew her name, that she wasn't just the victim of a random mugger. He certainly didn't look the type though she chided herself for falling in with the stereotyping, aware she should know better; she'd be talking about the criminal classes next.

She didn't recognize him though she hadn't had a good look at his face. He could have seen her on TV or in the papers. He could have been in court an hour and half ago. She was quite high profile.

'This is going to get you into a heap of trouble,' she said, sounding bolder than she felt. 'I'm a barrister so I know about these things.'

'I know exactly who you are,' he retorted. 'You're Ailsa Bennett, Q.C. and you work out of the Fold Yard Legal Practice. Took silk two years ago.'

At this point they reached the car, a large Mercedes, and she was guided into the passenger seat with his hand on top of her head just like the police do.

'Put your seat belt on,' he said. 'We don't want anything to happen to you, do we?'

Ailsa was aware of being driven south out of London until he stopped in a secluded lay-by screened by shrubs and trees.

He produced his knife and this time she was able to see it properly, to see it would be effective if he chose to use it.

He told her to leave her jacket in the back of the car, fetched rope from the boot, tied her hands behind her back, and tied her ankles together. Then put on a blindfold and shoved a gag into her mouth, all of which instantly seemed superfluous because he lifted her, jack-knifed her body, and placed her in the boot in the fetal position.

Total darkness until, much later, the crunch of the car's wheels on gravel.

 

Ailsa was lifted out of the boot and carried.

She was dying to pee and suffering aching limbs and pins and needles in places.

Ailsa judged she was being carried inside a building then set down on a stone floor with her back against what felt like cold metal.

'You'll need a piss?' At least he recognized she had needs.

'Yes.'

She heard the scrape and clank of a bucket being dragged across the floor.

'Let me use a toilet. You must have one. Give me some privacy.'

'You'll do as you're told. I know that goes against the grain for you.'

He came so close she could smell his breath. He untied her rope bonds, lifted her arms above her head and shackled her wrists with chains.

He then began to undo the buttons of her shirt which she remembered was a deep magenta that went well with her dark suit. All the way down, taking his time. Followed by fingers feeling behind for the hook and eye fastening of her bra and taking it off.

As he unzipped her skirt and pulled it down, removed her tights and knickers, she tried to resist but her bladder was so full it was uncomfortable trying to thrash her legs about.

She was nude.

'Now I've got something for you to put on. You looked so cute wearing it in court. I had to pay nearly half a grand for this.'

He produced a barrister's wig and set in on Ailsa's head.

'One hundred per cent pure horsehair. What a rip off!'

She waited but nothing happened, nothing changed. She thought she heard his footsteps leaving the room whatever kind of room it was. Her bladder was bursting and she didn't know how much longer she could hold out. At least she could urinate without him watching if he'd gone. She made a number of attempts to squat over the bucket so that her stream wouldn't miss.

It was embarrassing to hear her piss tinkle into the metal bucket and it sounded loud enough for him to hear if he was anywhere close. She stopped herself mid-stream to listen for him despite the urgency of her need but heard nothing.

The sound changed as the bucket filled.

She'd had to deny the call of nature so long that it took what seemed like ages before she could finish.

'I don't have a piece of toilet paper for you to dab your cunt as you ladies like to do, I'm afraid.'

His voice made her jump. 'You bastard,' she said.

'I never left the room.'

'What kind of pervert are you?'

'See if you can balance on your bucket. It's the only seat you'll get.'

'Who are you?'

She imagined how she would look to him, sitting naked on a bucket full of piss with her white legs askew to keep her balance, her sandy hair now quite disheveled under that ridiculous wig. He seemed to know what she was thinking because he leaned over and pulled pins and slides from her hair; let it fall over her shoulders; then he put the wig back on.

'Your piss stinks,' he said.

'I suppose yours does too.'

He slapped her across the face.

Ailsa struggled to stop herself crying but she felt tears prickling her eyes and her bottom lip quiver.

'I always wondered what size rack you had under your smart suits. You're quite flat- chested aren't you? I like bigger jugs.'

'What a surprise!'

He pulled on her nipples and then slapped her tits. Her nipples were dark, almost plum colored.

'Your snatch is too hairy. I like to see a woman's cunt lips pouting at me.'

'Who cares what you think?'

'You'll come to care deeply.'

'I think not.'

'You've got good legs, I'll say that.'

'What's this all about? When are you going to let me go?'

'I suppose breast enlargement is a possibility. There will be plenty of money in your account to pay for it. And I have ways of making your tits look bigger.

'Is that what this is all about? You're holding me for ransom? I doubt anyone will pay. I'm not that important and I've no family.'

'Heart-breaking,' he said.

'So you've picked the wrong person.'

'On the contrary, I've picked exactly the right person, the only person who will do. While we're talking about your appearance there are some plus points. I like the color of your hair and although your lips are rather thin your mouth is a nice shape though whores don't get kissed. I used to watch your mouth during those long speeches you made.'

'I prefer your insults...'

'Where was I? You're pretty tall, slim but not scrawny, built like a runner or steeplechaser with strong legs. I love the outfits women athletes wear these days, so revealing.'

'Why won't you let me see you?'

'Oh, you will see me. Be patient. Of course you know me already but I've changed a lot in twenty years. It was a fifteen year sentence and I've spent another five years as a so-called free man. Fifteen years is a long time, Miss Bennett...think of all the things that have happened to you in fifteen years...how much you've done to further your career...the relationships you've had.'

'I see. You've been in prison.'

And who put me there Miss Bennett?'

'I was the prosecutor in the case?'

'And you took such obvious pleasure in the task.'

'I doubt it. I would be doing my job. You put yourself in jail by committing the crimes you committed.'

'I was fitted up...not the first and certainly not the last.'

'That's a familiar defense.'

'Perhaps because it happens more often than you like to think-especially to black guys- or perhaps you do know and just go along with it as part of the system as long as you make a good living out of it. I don't think there are many poor lawyers, are there Ailsa?'

'You resent me because I've got money.'

She suddenly felt his mouth on her right nipple, licking and then biting but without much force as though he wanted to suckle. He continued until her nipple hardened then did the same with her left nipple while she wriggled in protest though there was no way to fend him off. His chin was bristly with stubble.

Ailsa felt her spirits plummet. However much she tried to fight him with words all he had to do was to molest her physically to humiliate her even if she tried desperately hard not to give him the satisfaction of seeing that her morale was affected.

He was chewing on her nipples almost casually, stroking her thighs at the same time, now her inner thighs close to her cunt, but not going there; emphasizing by his teasing that he could finger her there whenever he wanted to.

'See how stiff your nipples are, my little slut. Perhaps it's time you saw your new home. It's taken me the best part of five years to prepare it for you.'

When the blindfold was removed and her eyes had adjusted to the light, Ailsa saw she was inside a cell with stout metal bars on all four sides with a lockable door, now wide open, as one of the sides. The bars gave way to walls above head height and boards were attached which held hooks and chains in place like the ones holding up Ailsa's arms. The chains were adjustable in length and were long enough to hold her now that she was squatting on the slop bucket. The roof of the structure was made of fine mesh above horizontal metal spars like a gantry and too high for someone to reach without something to stand on and there was nothing there that would serve that purpose.

He'd carried her in without her being aware she was being taken into a cage. The floor was indeed made of flagstones. Her clothes were a sad little heap near her.

But there was something that appalled Ailsa even more.

Inside the cage was another cage with bars but of small proportions, the sort that might house an animal though even a large dog would be cramped. Near the small cage were two plastic bowls such as dogs feed from, one already filled with water.

'I've tried to make it so that you can experience how I felt though I must admit this cell is a little more primitive than the ones I occupied. I don't feel you deserve better at this point but you might earn improved conditions in time. What do you think about your new residence?'

'You're not seriously going to keep me here?'

'I've never been more serious in my life. Don't you like it? Here, let me give you the chance to walk round and explore.'

He released her arms from the chains and moved the bucket away.

Ailsa staggered when she tried to walk but gradually feeling returned to her legs.

'It's a barn conversion,' he said, watching her trying to stay upright. 'This used to be a farm with various barns and outbuildings. It's surrounded by fields, really quite isolated. We'll have to rely on each other's company although I may arrange visitors for you as a reward for good behavior.'

Ailsa saw just outside the door to the prison a rack with various implements hanging from it, an assortment of canes, whips, paddles, crops and what looked like cattle prods. Her eyes moistened again as she contemplated her future at the hands of such a pervert, a man who'd prepared obsessively for years for this day, for the moment he seized her on the street, and the scenario that would follow.

'I see the effects of your spanking have worn off. You cute little derriere is very nearly restored to its normal color.'

So he knew about that, thought Ailsa. He must have had her under surveillance for quite a period of time. Perhaps Harold was part of it all.

'I can fill in for Harold. You needn't go without spankings. You can have them more regularly and you won't have to travel for the experience.'

'If you let me go now I promise I won't go to the police,' she said.

'Really?'

'I promise.'

'I find that very hard to believe.'

'I mean it. You've achieved your purpose, had your revenge, humiliated me...'

'But Ailsa I served fifteen years.'

'Yes and I'm sorry if you were innocent.'

'Sorry?'

'Yes, of course.'

'So at least you entertain the idea that I might be an innocent man?'

She'd preferred to keep her back turned but now she faced him with one hand over her breasts and the other covering her pussy.

'Put your hands on your head.'

She hesitated but complied, her face and neck red with embarrassment.

'You were saying...'

'I was promising not to go to the police if you let me go now. They're bound to find me eventually. They'll go through a list of everyone I've ever prosecuted, first thing they'll think of.'

He came close to her, standing inches away.

'Even if that was true how would they know where to find me? I've been off everyone's radar for five years. I don't pay rates or taxes. I'm not registered with a doctor. I don't get post. I don't exist.'

He put his hand flat against her pubic mound. 'You and I have years to get to know each other.'

'Please...'

'You're pleading now?'

'Yes, if you like. I'm begging you to let me go now.'

'You don't know me, do you? You don't even remember what my case was all about.

'I'm sorry. I prosecute so many cases.'

'I wasted fifteen years of my life and you don't even remember me. I was just another case to you. I lost my girlfriend. I lost everything.'

'I'm so sorry. As you said, you looked different twenty years ago.'

'Basically you look the same, just as pretty in your stuck- up, toffee-nosed way.'

'I'm sorry if that's the way I come over. I can't help my background...my accent...the things that annoy you.'

He jabbed his fingers into her vagina. 'What do you call this?'

Ailsa thought it better not to back away but to try to endure it. 'My pussy.'

'It's your cunt, isn't it?'

'Yes.'

'Well say it.'

'It's my cunt.'

'I think it's time you showed proper respect. My name is Morris Richards by you need to address me as sir.'

'Yes, sir. If you let me go after this. I'll give you what you want if you take me back tonight.'

'What do I want, white slut?'

'My cunt, sir. You can fuck me.'