Loading...You might have seen me once or twice if you happen to visit any of the lonelier cycle paths around Great Britain. I’ve cycled them all. Mile after mile of empty countryside – away from the cars, away from the people, and away from every other distraction of modern day life. Boring? You’ve got to be kidding! This is where it all happens – in the natural world, that is; and as a passionate wildlife photographer, this is all that matters to me.
Pictures – snapshots of moments in nature when the rest of mankind was looking the opposite way. Producing them isn’t so much a job as a way of life.
But there was one cold afternoon in February when my way of life took a completely different direction. I was in a rugged corner of Wales, high up in the mountains and cycling through a veil of mist with my camera strapped firmly to my back. I was on the verge of the scoop of a lifetime. Three days earlier a farmer had turned up white-faced and shaking at the local police station. He’d seen a cat. Not just any old cat, but a large black one about the size of a German Shepherd. It had been basking on a rock when the farmer had stumbled upon it, but disappeared in an instant, slinking off into some nearby bushes never to be seen again.
Whereas most people made a point of staying away from the notorious path, I was there within a couple of hours, my hair trailing behind me in the breeze as I glided along the track, dipping and curving into the lap of a gentle valley. I’d been on the move for about thirty minutes, and when I reached the bottom I slowed to a halt. I may be an idealist but deep down I know when the odds against me; and on this occasion it was clear that only luck could bring me what I sought.
Black, or melanistic leopards are notoriously shy creatures. They hunt only at night, and will avoid confrontation at all costs. The fabled ones that roam the British countryside live on a low profile diet of rabbits, only rarely attacking larger creatures such as horses, cows and sheep when their normal supply of food runs out. Attacks on humans are virtually unheard of – at least in the British Isles. Like most wild animals, black leopards will only stand their ground and fight if cornered or guarding a young litter. Saying that, when the mood takes them, they’re capable of killing prey up to 500 kilos, and as I propped my bike against a nearby fence the thought was at the forefront of my mind.
It wasn’t a burst of defeatism or of cowardice that made me stop. The truth was that I’d just had enough. The air was cold and damp, and the mist was thickening by the minute. My room for the night was already booked. It was at a nearby pub – the traditional kind with low beams, pewter mugs and a roaring log fire. And as the weather deteriorated I found myself yearning for the warmth, the company, the home cooked food and a pint of strong Welsh ale.
Shivering, I propped my bike against a nearby fence and decided to make the most of the situation by taking a couple of shots of my surroundings. Out to the west the sun was sinking down over the hillside into a foggy blaze. It was a beautiful shot, but when I turned the camera over to preview the image I was disappointed to see how dark and gloomy it had turned out. Far from being appropriate for a calendar, or picture postcard, or even glossy-paged magazine, the scene appeared more reminiscent of something out of a horror movie than anything else.
Never one to be deterred, I fumbled with a couple of buttons, hoping that by adjusting the setting the photo might at least be capable of generating some kind of income. But my fingers had become thick from the cold, and it wasn’t long before the unthinkable happened and the camera fell with a sickening clatter.
“Shit!” I bent down to pick it up. Despite the heavy impact it seemed to have survived the fall. Apart from a couple of scratches to the casing, it was miraculously unscathed. I was just counting my blessings and rising to my feet again when I noticed something that made my heart skip a beat. There were markings on the fence post. I ran my fingers along them, following the deeply carved lines and the splinters that hung out from the wood. Something had been using this as a scratching post, and judging by the freshness of the marks it hadn’t been all that long ago.
I deleted the picture of the sunset quickly, and set about making several snapshots of the fence post. It was better than nothing, but the possibility of there being something else out there for my hungry lens was more than enough to drive me onwards.
My camera secure again, I leapt on my bike and pedalled hard around the bend. I powered up another slope and then found myself at the top of a long and mercifully straight down run. It was the kind of straight that daredevils do with no hands, and normal circumstances I would have relished the buzz. But this evening I was searching – scanning the fields and hedgerows, my hands clamped firmly around the brakes as I crept noiselessly down the track.
I’d only travelled a couple of metres when I saw it. Something black was moving in the distance. Partly shielded by the mist, I could only tell that it was large, had four legs and was making its way up the hill at a much quicker pace than I was travelling down it. Once again my heart leapt. So far it was all happening too easily, but this latest development also carried with it a degree of danger. Cycling back up the hill was out of the question. It was steep enough to have to get off and push, and judging by the speed at which this creature was moving, if I did that it would be on me in seconds. Taking a deep breath, I settled on the only course of action – I was going to have to keep going and somehow try to hurtle past.
As I shifted my bike into top gear a crazy idea flashed through my mind. It would be a motion shot and may not even come out all that clearly, but there was a small chance that if my aim was steady enough, I might just be able to get the photo of a lifetime. I reached behind for the camera and nearly lost my balance as the gears jolted into place. Taking a deep breath I tried again, and this time managed to retrieve it, pressing the on-switch and holding on to it in a death grip as I pedalled harder and gathered speed.
The creature was now running. A couple more seconds and I’d be close enough to take the shot. I positioned the camera, my eyes scanning quickly from the display screen to the road ahead, waiting for the moment. And then suddenly the creature started to bark. I cursed. It was a dog. A great big bloody dog, no doubt from the farmhouse up ahead.
I squeezed lightly on the brakes as my sense of urgency faded. In a way I was relieved, but the pangs of disappointment were still there. I’d chased the dream and missed it by a mile, and now I had several more to cover just to be guaranteed of a bed for the night. There were times, I thought to myself quietly, when my perseverance was as much a pain in the arse as a blessing.
The dog had now reached my bike and was growling around the front wheel as he ran alongside it. I was still freewheeling at quite a speed, and as I swerved to avoid the cavorting animal I felt my back wheel beginning to skid across the road. Sensing the impending disaster the dog backed off, but it was far too late for me. The bike was out of control and I slid on for several more metres before hitting a large stone and careering over the handlebars, only to land with a thud in a nearby hedge.
I wasn’t badly hurt, just scratched and slightly shaken, but the air had left my lungs, and when I groaned my voice was several octaves lower than normal. A cow in a nearby field returned the greeting with a low moo, but the irony was completely lost on me. Disentangling myself from the brambles and twigs, I rose unsteadily to my feet and cast eyes on the ruined bike. The front wheel had buckled almost at a ninety degree angle, and the chain hung uselessly from the frame like an expensive necklace on a whore. Satisfied that he’d had some kind of result, the dog flopped down alongside me and gave a playful bark. For all my love of animals, I could have kicked him to kingdom come at that moment in time.
I turned around and tried to get my bearings. The farmhouse was just metres away, and although it seemed to be in darkness, a small spire of smoke was rising from the chimney. Night was descending fast and with it the thick mountain fog. I was at least five miles from my B&B, and with my bike as it was I’d be lucky to make it back before closing. My options weren’t all that plentiful, so I headed for the building like a delirious sailor drawn to the lighthouse.
It was a small stone building, typical of any farmhouse in the area, with small white window frames and a neatly-kept front lawn. It would have been completely unremarkable if not for the fountain in the middle of the garden path. It wasn’t big, but it was certainly showy. Its centrepiece was a voluptuous Venus-type figure, a vivid red trail of nasturtium covering her body as she sprawled on her plinth, the water spraying up between her legs and cascading into the pool below. I stopped in amazement. At the time I put it down to the bumpiness of the ride, but as I passed the sculpture I felt something stir between my legs that couldn’t have been less suited to the moment.
I rang the bell and waited. A door opened, then closed. A light flicked on, shooting its beam through the gaps around the edges of the front door. Then came the sound of approaching footsteps. They were purposeful and clicked hard against what sounded like a marble floor. The beams of light were briefly eclipsed by a moving shadow, and then the door was opened.
It was a woman. She was wearing a figure-hugging black dress, and as she stood in the open air my senses were bombarded by the rich, sweet smell of her perfume. She seemed to be in her late thirties, but the confidence she exuded made my guessing game a bit of a stab in the dark. Striking rather than pretty, she was the kind of woman who turned heads in the street with her high cheekbones, steel-blue gaze and the wavy dark hair that cascaded over her shoulders in defiant abandon.
“I’m really sorry to bother you at this time of night…” I started, “I was wondering if I could use your phone. You see, I wrecked my bike and I don’t think I’m going to make it back to the Owain Glyndwr before nightfall.”
Her eyes fell onto the sorry contraption and then moved back to me, working their way along my calves, my thighs, my hips, my chest and then finally settling on my face. For a split second her expression gained something slightly predatory, but it melted away almost as suddenly as it appeared.
“Yes, of course, child. You must come inside at once! Just look at you! You must be freezing!” Her voice had the timbre of soft velvet, but there was an edge for it, something dangerously firm that made me catch my breath. She opened the door a little wider and ushered me inside. As she reached over to bolt it behind me, she placed a smooth hand on my shoulder. It was an unconscious gesture, but as I glanced at those long, elegant fingers and crimson nails, my heart began to beat wildly.
At the point where I thought my ribcage would shatter, the hand vanished and she stepped back to scrutinise me once more. Not satisfied with the view she was getting, she took a quick walk around me, stopping only when she was positioned directly behind. I glanced nervously over my shoulder, only to see her fixated on the back of my lycra shorts, a smile beginning to spread across her face.
For the first time in years I suddenly felt very vulnerable in my lycra shorts. I’d cycled long enough to know that I had nothing to be ashamed of as far as my figure was concerned. I was toned and had the firm buttocks of a sprinter. But something told me that this woman wasn’t just admiring me from an athletic perspective.
“Don’t worry – I won’t be staying,” I ventured, painfully aware of the dirt and the scratches across my legs. “I just need the number of a breakdown service, then I’ll leave you to it…” But the woman didn’t seem to be listening to a word. Instead, I watched in disbelief as she reached towards my vulnerable butt, manicured fingers outstretched.
The slowness of her movement gave me just enough time to anticipate the pressure of her touch, but not for one second did I imagine how warm and how tender it would be. As she trailed a single finger up and down my bare skin she gave a low laugh.
“As I thought,” she said, removing her hand with a wry smile on her face. “You’ve ripped your shorts, darling.”
I clasped a hand around my right buttock and noticed with horror that it was half exposed, the lycra hanging away in a large strip. As my fingers came into contact with more and more exposed flesh, I began cursing myself for not wearing something a little more respectable than the skimpy white thong I’d chosen.
The woman saw my expression and immediately broke out into a louder laugh that rang around the empty hallway several seconds after she’d stopped
“Such a sweet, expressive face!” she applauded, and I felt my cheeks growing red. “Come, come – there’s no need to be shy. There’s only me in the house, and we’re both women, so you have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all…” she added as her eyes travelled up my legs again.
I turned around quickly just in time to see her tongue slide across her perfect white teeth.
“Can I use your phone?” I repeated, beginning to feel awkward under the intensity of her gaze.
“You may, but I hardly think you’ll find your knight in shining armour at this time of day. Come – allow me to offer you a drink. You’re shaking, girl. Whatever were you thinking coming out on a night such as this?”
She was right about my shaking, but somehow I didn’t have the nerve to tell her it had only begun when I set foot through her door.
“I was looking for the cat.” It was about all my husky voice could muster.
“I see…” She raised a single eyebrow and I noticed the corners of her lips curve up in faint amusement. “And is it a regular habit of yours to go chasing through the mountains after household pets?”
“No – it’s actually a leopard. A black leopard. A local farmer saw one on the track, and there were scratch marks on the posts so I decided to follow. Then I got sent over the handlebars by your dog.”
The woman frowned as she listened, then gave a snort that bordered on contempt. “An interesting story. But of course,” her voice softened “you must be terribly shaken, you poor thing. And I don’t think that you’re local, either. Am I correct?”
“I’m from south Wales. I’ve lived in London these past five years, though.” Embarrassingly my eyes were drawn to the dark line of her cleavage that disappeared into her dress. I’d hoped she wouldn’t notice, or at least have the grace not to comment, but when she spoke again her voice was a lot sterner –
“If you’re looking for a name tag, I’m afraid you won’t find one. For your interest, my name is Eliza Banfield. I doubt very much whether you’ll have heard of me – I prefer to keep myself to myself. With your cosmopolitan experiences I expect you’ll know that there’s not usually much of a welcome in the hillsides for my type.”
I smiled politely, but knew exactly what she meant. Her cut-glass English accent would have been the equivalent of a red rag to a bull in this rural area. It had too much of a patronising ring – too much of a throwback to the colonial past, when although the people were spared, the culture and language fell victim to extermination squads consisting of people just like Eliza Banfield. It was brave of her to even to consider living here.
“And what may I call you?”
“Beth – Beth is fine.”
“Very well, Beth. My drawing room is this way.” She breezed past and led me through a maze of corridors to a large oak-panelled door.
When she opened it, I was relieved to see a log fire burning in the hearth. But it was the only source of light in the room, its orange patterns dancing across the floorboards in a demonic pattern. Through the glow I spotted an old-fashioned writing desk in one corner, and on every wall rows and rows of books. A dark leather sofa stood in the opposite end of the room, and to the side of it a small drinks cabinet. What struck me most about the furniture was that it seemed to belong to a bygone age.
“Make yourself comfortable,” said Eliza, gesturing towards the sofa. I lowered myself down awkwardly. There were still pieces of twig and leaves in my hair, and during the course of the skid my body had become caked in dust. I probably looked a sight, and for no apparent reason I started feeling very self-conscious.
Eliza poured a generous slug of whisky into a tumbler and handed it over to me. She didn’t drink any herself, and simply watched as I took a small sip and felt the fire burning down to my stomach.
“I have a telephone directory, if that would be of any assistance to you.” Eliza handed over a pristine copy of the local phone book, and I turned immediately to the tow truck services, scanning for one near enough to respond to my SOS. There was only one – an E.W. Williams and Son, Emergency Breakdown and Recovery, no job too small or remote. I locked my finger over the number and suddenly a phone appeared before my eyes.
Eliza still hadn’t sat down. Instead, she was standing over me, watching, waiting and biding her time. Her face was expressionless, but I got the impression there was a lot more going on in her mind than she’d ever be willing to share. It scared me and excited me at the same time.
I dialled the number and waited patiently through the rings.
“Hello?”
“Hi, I was wondering if you could help me. I’m a cyclist, and I’ve had an accident with my bike.”
“Hello?”
The line was crackly, and I was forced to repeat my line several more times before the message sunk in through the static.
“Oh. Where are you, bach?”
“Ummm… I – I don’t know exactly…” I turned to Eliza for guidance.
“You’re just the other side of the Devil’s Ridge. He should know exactly where it is.”
I repeated the location with a slight shudder, and was met with silence. “Hello? Are you still there?”
“Yes…” This time the voice was slightly hesitant. “That’s the Banfield Estate, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Are you able to come and pick me up?”
“Well… it’s not that easy, you see, love. That’s right the other side of the mountain, you know – and there’s one hell of a fog. Is it urgent?”
Why the hell else would I be calling an emergency breakdown service if it weren’t? Under normal circumstances, I probably would have sworn and hung up on him by now. But these weren’t normal circumstances, and being my only chance of getting home, I had no intention of offending him now.
“Yes, it is.”
“Oh… Well, how’s about if I’m there with you first thing tomorrow, love? How’s that sound to you?
Truthfully, it sounded as though I’d dialled the wrong number and ended up speaking with the village idiot. But with Eliza leaning over my shoulder, her warm breath grazing against my neck, I stifled the urge to tell him so and simply put the phone down.
“No luck, darling?” she crooned softly into my ear.
I shook my head.
“What a terrible shame. Of course, you’re more than welcome to stay here for the night if you’ve no other way of getting home.”
I looked at Eliza and noticed a slightly cruel cut to her face. It had to be the lighting, but again I found myself feeling uneasy.
“I suppose I’d better walk, but thanks anyway.”
She gave a dismissive laugh, and then ripped open the curtains to display the fog, which had now descended into something straight out of a Dickens novel.
“I hardly think so, Beth,” she said, watching my reaction with amusement, “In fact, I doubt whether you’d be able to reach the bottom of the drive in this weather without encounter some unfortunate mishap. There are some steep drops to the side of the path.”
I took a deep breath and shook my head. She was right. Staying was my only option, no matter how much the prospect scared me.
“But of course,” Eliza continued, holding one finger up to the air, her body pale and ghostly in the fiery glow. “While you are staying with me, I’ll expect you to abide by my rules. Is that too much to ask for, do you think?”
I shook my head, hardly daring to disagree, but soon curiosity got the better of me – “What kind of rules are we talking about here?”
“I don’t permit outdoor shoes in my home.”
I glanced down at my muddy trainers and felt like kicking myself for not having the foresight to remove them when I came in through the front door. The dirt had reached the laces, making them look like I’d been wading through a quagmire. I took them off, and felt a sense of relief that her request had been so domestic in its nature. Why I felt this way was a mystery to me. At the end of the day she was just a lonely middle-aged woman, who lived in the middle of nowhere. On paper, she would have seemed about as harmless as they come. But yet the nagging feeling persisted – that maybe there was more to her than met the eye.
“And if you’re to stay, I think it would be wise for you to remove those clothes and take a hot bath – before you freeze to death.”
My heart skipped a beat. It was more her tone than the words she used. She spoke with such authority that part of me felt the urge strip right there on the very spot. As the idea flashed through my mind, I felt a rush of fear along with a tightening sensation along the lips of my pussy.
“Right here?” I asked, my mouth suddenly dry.
Eliza raised her eyebrows, “If stripping in the middle of the drawing room is your style, then please – go ahead. It would be my pleasure.”
“Oh, no…” I blustered, “I just…”
“You just what?” Again her voice was authoritarian.
“Nothing.”
What else could I say? I was now blushing deeply, and Eliza seemed to be enjoying every second of my discomfort.
“I see,” she commented after an agonising pause. “The bathroom is just this way if you’d care to go on ahead. You may take your drink with you.”
I reached shakily for the tumbler as I processed her words. Go on ahead. I knew exactly why she wanted me in front of her, and it had nothing to do with good manners or the strange ways of the English aristocracy. When I reached the doors at the furthest end of the room, she caught up with me, sliding them open to reveal another dimly lit room.
Eliza stood in the doorway, waiting for my next move. She’d taken a packet of cigarettes from one of the bookshelves, and was in the process of lighting one as I walked past in resignation. No sooner had I passed her, I felt her eyes blazing once again into the seat of my shorts and the section of missing fabric. I turned to face her quickly, but despite her elegance she seemed able to move a lot faster than me, and was already in the process of turning the bright silver taps.
As the water gushed into the tub, the room began to fill with steam. It took just seconds before the vapours combined with the smoke from Eliza’s cigarette to form a fog worthy of the one I’d just escaped from, and soon the stone tub was full. But still, Eliza showed no sign of leaving. Instead she gave a wry smile that unsettled me even further.
“Let me take your clothes for you, darling – I insist.”
My worst fears had turned out to be well-grounded.
“It’s fine, really, I –”
“You were thinking of taking a bath with your clothes on, perhaps? A novel idea, but I think you’ll find the experience far more rewarding in the nude.”
I stared at the floor before lifting my cycling shirt over my head. As soon as it was off, Eliza took another leisurely drag of her cigarette, and closed her eyes as she breathed out the blue smoke. I was wearing a white sports bra. It was tight fitting and despite having been indoors for nearly ten minutes, my nipples had swollen to two hard nubs. It had to be the cold – just as it had to be my paranoia and overactive imagination that was colouring my perception of Eliza’s motives. She probably just wanted to wash my clothes. Once I reached my underwear, she was bound to leave me in peace.
“And now the shorts.”
Unable to look Eliza in the face, I slide them down my hips and then allowed them to drop over my legs before stepping out of them completely. The woman seemed to be nodding to herself. There was a faraway look in her eyes, and suddenly the faux smile had faded. Her eyes were locked on my shaved pussy, and it felt like an eternity before she made her next statement.
“Good. Now hand them to me, and I’ll see that they’re clean and dry by tomorrow morning when you leave. You’ll find a towel on the rack.”
Again, I was secretly disappointed by the menial outcome to something that had promised so much excitement. Part of me was terrified by this stern, dark-haired woman; but it was an emotion that was mixed with something else – something darker that came as much from me as it did from her.
When she left the room, I took off my underwear and noticed with amazement how wet the crotch of my panties had become. As I peeled it from my pussy, the faint aroma of my own arousal drifted up, causing my nipples to become harder still.
I’ll admit, the hot bath was exactly what I needed; but so, on the other hand, was the solitude. I leaned back into the water and allowed my eyes to drift over the ceiling. Like the rest of the house, the bathroom was beautifully decorated. The tub lay at the centre of the room. It was round and made of stone, and looked more like a luxurious hot tub than anything else. Around it were several ferns that seemed to thrive in the steamy climate, kept warm by the heated stone floor. There was nothing particularly comforting about the room, but it attracted me nevertheless – rather like its owner. And it was with her in mind that my hands began to glide over my body, stroking and caressing my skin until my sex drive spiralled right out of my control.
I have no idea how long I was there for. Caving in to the sweet sensations of lust, I hung my legs over the edges of the tub and began rubbing my finger along the length of my dripping pussy. My clit was already throbbing, and swollen to almost twice its usual size. When my finger grazed over it, my hips gave an involuntary lurch. I circled it for a little while, teasing myself, allowing the feelings to grow. At the same time, my left hand rose to my breasts, squeezing, kneeding and twisting my sensitive nipples until they became red and thoroughly aroused.
It didn’t take much to send me over the edge – just the thought of being naked in front of Eliza Banfield. I wondered what she’d make of the little show if she happened still to be standing in the room. I imagined the expression of lust on her face. I imagined the flash of her white teeth as her lips fell apart. I also began to imagine those red fingernails, disappearing under her dress and snaking under the waistband of her panties. How would she look? How would she smell? And more than anything else, how would such a strong and mysterious woman taste? I didn’t have time to address these thoughts in any real detail, because soon my body was bucking and writhing in the tub, sending large splashes of water crashing over the sides. I may have moaned, or even cried out with pleasure as the orgasm tore through my body. I honestly have no idea, and at the time I couldn’t have cared less. The release was pure bliss.
Sighing deeply, I moved my legs back into the tub and allowed the water to bear my weight. It’s amazing how light a powerful orgasm can make you feel, and as the ripples moved slowly along my body, I closed my eyes and lost myself to the moment.
“I trust you’re enjoying yourself, Beth?”
I leapt out of my skin as I heard the familiar velvety voice to my side. I had no idea how long Eliza had been standing there, but I could only pray that it hadn’t been all that long. She gave a low laugh as I made a futile attempt at covering my breasts and pussy with my hands.
“If you stay in there any longer, you’ll end up like a prune, darling.”
I glanced nervously at the towel against the far wall. It was completely out of reach. Noticing the direction of my gaze Eliza grabbed it for me, but instead of passing it over, she held it tight to her body and resumed her unyielding expression.
“Stand up – I’d like to see you properly.”
I didn’t move an inch. Eliza raised her eyebrows in anticipation, but it felt as though my body had turned to lead.
“Come, come, Beth. You seemed eager enough to strip for me in the drawing room, before the idea had even crossed my mind. We’re both women, after all.”
That was precisely what made me feel so uncomfortable. With a man, I might have claimed sexual harassment, or even persuaded the recovery truck or the police to come out on grounds of attempted rape. But with Eliza, there was something inside me that wanted it to happen.
There could be no more pretending when it came to her motives. She’d stalked and watched and teased, and now she was moving in for the kill. Once I stood up and let her see the post-orgasmic flush across my breasts and the swollen lips of my pussy, there could be no turning back.
Slowly, I hauled myself up to my feet and stood completely naked in front of her, beads of water and sweat rolling down my skin. I watched as she examined my body in detail, her eyes glittering and her cheeks beginning to glow. She took her time in looking me over, and when she reached my face her eyes descended once more to the area between my thighs.
“I think,” she began, “that you will do very nicely. Very nicely indeed.”
“For what?” I asked, the goosebumps beginning to rise over my body once again. Deep down I already knew, but the idea was so crazy and so perverse that I needed to hear the words for myself.
“Oh, come on, Beth!” She’d suddenly grown impatient. “You’re not one of the local simpletons! If you hadn’t already noticed, not that many people are keen to pay a visit to the wicked witch of England. I very rarely have visitors, least of all pretty young women who might satisfy my burning desires!”
I gulped. I’d been right all along. I’d fallen, through no choice of my own, directly into her trap. Watching the realisation spread across my face, she gave another predatory smile.
“That’s right, Beth. I’m a lesbian, and tonight I’m going to use you for my sexual pleasure.”
My heart was almost leaping from my chest. Eliza, on the contrary, seemed completely unruffled. She moved over to a wooden chest that stood against one of the walls and sat on it.
“I think it would be rather nice for you to begin by showing me exactly what you’ve been doing in my bath tub for the last twenty minutes. No – don’t get back into the water,” she cut me in my retreat. “I want you standing on the floor, just in front of me.”
I climbed out from the tub like I was in a dream. Wisps of steam were still drifting around the room, lending a perverted fairytale quality to the scene.
“Good. Now please go ahead.”
I couldn’t look her in the eye. What had been a brazen fantasy was very different in the flesh. I raised a shaky hand to my breast and brushed my fingers over it lightly. Dissatisfied with the slowness of the action, Eliza leaned back and took control of the moment once more.
“Cup your breasts for me, darling. I want to see how they look when they’re been squeezed under your hands.”
Feeling my shame fusing with my excitement, I did as I was told and soon found myself enjoying the expression of rapture that spread across her face.
“That’s very nice…”
I looked over and saw that she’d spread her legs a little. It wasn’t enough to be classed as an open invitation, but it certainly caught my attention – along with the fact that she wasn’t wearing panties. In the past, my girlfriends and lovers had all been waxed or shaved in that department. Eliza, however, was completely natural. When the candles flickered in the right direction, I was able to see the soft curls of her pussy hair; and far from repulsing me, it actually intrigued me, and drew me in slightly closer.
Happy with the effect she was having on me, Eliza cut the pretence and rolled her dress up to her waist.
“Do I have something that possibly interests you, darling?”
I nodded my head slightly and made a move towards her, but she held out her hand and stopped me dead in my tracks.
“Stay where you are, Beth. I haven’t finished with you yet. Now put your right leg onto the side of the tub and show me your cunt. I want to see everything.”
Again, I obeyed her order and waited for her judgement. She wasn’t satisfied.
“When I ask to see your nasty little cunt, I expect to see all of it. Now spread your lips open and stop wasting my time!”
My fingers suddenly fumbling, I spread my swollen lips apart, and moaned from the rush of cool air. Eliza watched me for several seconds, a glint suddenly taking over her eyes.
“Oh, you beautiful little slut,” she murmured, “I expect that your cunt is lusting after me at the moment, isn’t it?”
Stunned by the sudden coarseness of her language, I found myself unable to answer.
“Isn’t it! Answer me when I’m talking to you, slut!”
I nodded.
“And I expect that you’d like me to do something about it, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” my voice was unmistakably thick.
Eliza laughed, and then returned to her authoritarian tone, “Come here, child!”
I edged forward a little.
“Closer! And again! Good. Now get on your knees!”
No sooner had my knees hit the stone, my head was grabbed from behind and pulled between her legs. From here on I needed no further instruction. I plunged my tongue with surprising ease into her pussy, tasting her sweetness as I probed deeper with my tongue, swirling it around inside her muscles were relaxed and her pussy lay gaping before me.
As I darted my tongue in and out, bringing the tip over her sensitive clit time and time again, she held on to my head even tighter. Her juices were now running freely into my mouth, forcing me to swallow every once in a while to avoid being suffocated. I was certainly no stranger to lesbian love, but it had been a long time – too long, and I relished the unexpected opportunity to explore a woman’s pussy with my tongue.
When Eliza started to gasp, I knew that she was no longer in the driving seat. She was arching against my face, thrusting her hips towards my tongue and moaning as I brought her closer to orgasm. I wanted to make her cum. I wanted to feel her explode in my mouth as her clit throbbed heavily against my tongue. And with an animal whimper, that’s exactly what she did, her grip loosening around my head as the earth moved and the stars came out.
I was gasping for breath by the time she pushed me away, and for a while I basked in my own glory. Eliza’s eyes were closed, although her breathing suggested that she was still very much conscious. After a while she stirred a little and regarded me with an expression that was almost tender. But it didn’t last very long.
“I think we ought to move this into the bedroom, don’t you?”
I nodded, running my tongue around the corners of my mouth to prolong her exquisite taste.
“Very well. Up!”
I got to my feet and allowed myself to be led back through the drawing room and then up a small spiral staircase – treacherous as it was unlit. Had it not been for Eliza following behind me I would have fallen on more than one occasion, but the woman was in her native habitat, as sure-footed as a cat even on this darkest of nights.
When we reached the bedroom, I half expected her to turn on the overhead, or at least some kind of bedside lamp. But instead she suddenly pounced on me, finding my lips in an instant in a kiss that was filled with passion and raw hunger. It swept me off my feet, and after the initial shock I was kissing back hard, allowing her tongue to snake its way into my mouth and then sucking it deep inside, longing for the moment when I’d feel it in my pussy.
She was an expert in the field, and for a while it felt as though I’d really found my match. But soon I realised that in Eliza, I’d met so much more than that. Her hands were now trailing over my back, long fingers sinking into the crack of my butt as she stroked me into a sense of completely false security. As our tongues collided and her lips grazed slowly against mine, I lost myself a little.
And then it happened. Her fingers had just reached the top of my back when those polished red nails that had been a focal point when I first set eyes on her, raked their way cruelly down my spine. The sudden transformation from pleasure to discomfort caused my body to arch towards her, and I felt another low moan escaping my lips. No sooner had the deed been done, her hands continued with the gentle strokes, easing my muscles back into relaxation before she dragged her nails across me again. And so it continued, with increasing regularity, until my pussy began to ache.
Eventually she broke the kiss, leaving me starry-eyed and slightly shaken. Eliza, on the other hand was completely occupied with her next task. Through the darkness I heard the sharp click of her lighter, then watched as she proceeded to light several candles dotted around the edges of the room. Once again, my surroundings were turned into a flickering inferno, and it soon dawned on me that with the exception of her panties, Eliza was still fully-dressed. Just as I’d begun to wonder if this was an even encounter, the balance had tipped back in her favour. I was naked as the day I was born, and felt completely helpless.
The silence that followed seemed to reverberate around the room. Eliza was waiting for my reaction, and eventually I came up with something embarrassingly feeble.
“What’s with all the candles?” I asked, almost cringing as I said it.
I dislike bright lights,” she replied flatly. “Especially at night. Why? Do you have some kind of problem with naked flames?”
“No, I was just being curious, I guess.”
“I see. So tell me, Beth -” Another idea seemed to have flashed through her mind, and it materialised in a wicked gleam to her eye. She reached over and took one of the candles, holding it just below her jaw to give her a slightly menacing appearance. “Exactly how curious are you when it comes to candles?”
I had no idea what she was talking about, and I was given little time to think about it too much.
“Sit on the bed!”
I perched on the edge, wondering what was going to come next. There was a sharp shove to my chest, and suddenly I was flat on my back, my legs hanging uselessly over the edge of the mattress. Eliza raised the candle over me and looked at my body once again. It must have been a long time for her, because she seemed totally fascinated. She moved the small flame over me, examining every inch of my skin and following my contours with her steely gaze. What came next, however, took me by total surprise.
Just as the candle was hovering over my stomach, Eliza tilted her wrist slightly, allowing a drop of molten wax to splash onto my skin. I leapt about half a metre and cried out in a mixture of astonishment and pain. Eliza laughed. The area of skin affected was smarting, but yet there was something in me that almost enjoyed it.
She let loose another couple of drips, but this time they were almost level with my pubic bone. Their closeness to my pussy lips made me squirm a little, both from excitement and dread. Any lower, I thought, and things would start getting really interesting.
“Spread your legs for me, Beth.”
At the end of the day it was a welcome command. I needed her tongue. I needed her to eat me out and lick up my juices until my pussy ran dry. Once again it seemed like I had misinterpreted her intentions, but once again she was about to prove them well-founded. Gently, she pulled my lips apart and moved her face to my pussy, taking in deep breaths as she did so. The woman was getting off on the scent of my arousal, and this knowledge sent another wave of wetness to my pussy. I closed my eyes, anticipating the warmth and softness and wetness of her tongue, but it never came.
My first sensation was of something cold and hard pushing against my clit. Satisfied that it had found the swollen pearl, it began moving firmly over it, enticing and teasing until I became so wet that it slid down between my lips and fell against the entrance of my pussy. I looked down and saw a flame, and within half a second that flame had slid lower as the candle forced its way several inches into my hole. It happened so quickly that I gasped.
Satisfied with its depth for the time being, Eliza held the candle in place, stepping back slightly to admire her handiwork, before clasping her fingers around the body and holding it firmly in place.
“What a delightful picture,” she murmured. “A pretty little slut with a candle pushed inside her cunt. And from what I can see, you’re enjoying it tremendously, aren’t you?”
I was beyond the point of talking and simply pushed my hips towards it, taking it in as deep as she’d let me. The force caused a splattering of wax to drip onto the sheets, and then, before I even realised what she was doing, Eliza had tilted the candle so that the wax was running right towards my sensitive inner lips. Had it not been for the fact that Eliza chose that moment to find my g-spot, I probably would have cried from the splash of molten wax that seared my delicate flesh. As it was, my hips had begun writhing so hard against the makeshift cock that I lost myself to any other sensation.
The orgasm was now building up inside me with force. My juices were beginning to trickle onto my thighs, and my clit was throbbing like a beating heart. Eliza was now rubbing the candle hard against my g-spot, coaxing me closer and closer towards the orgasm I craved. I needed the release, and making this obvious was probably one of the biggest mistakes of my night. Right at the crucial moment, Eliza slid the candle back out of my pussy and left me hanging.
She blew the flame out, then went about blowing the other candles out one by one until we were in total darkness again. For a few seconds I lost her. I could hear a drawer being opened and then clothes, the faint jingle of what sounded like some kind of harness, and then her voice calling me over.
“Now get up and walk towards me, you little slut.”
I was still breathless from my interrupted orgasm, and disappointed, too. I felt my eyes beginning to fill with tears of frustration.
“But I can’t see where you are!”
“I’m over here.”
I lifted myself from the bed and rose unsteadily to my feet. As I did so, I felt the juices explode from my tortured pussy, gushing down my thighs in a way that I’d never experienced before. I felt dirty. Eliza was right – I was a slut, because no self-respecting woman would ever let herself get wound up to such a filthy extent.
“Quickly!”
I stumbled through the darkness like a blind woman, one nervous step after the other, towards the velvety voice whose words had become commands waiting to be obeyed. My arm hit something solid and the air was suddenly pierced by the sound of something shattering into dozens of small pieces. I stopped, horrified. But Eliza was laughing.
“That, my dear, was a collector’s item, worth more, I’d imagine, than could earn after several years in your profession. And as they say, all breakages must be paid for. Now come here!”
I edged away from the scene of my destruction, terrified of stepping on one of the broken shards, but soon I came into contact with a wall.
“Over here!”
I turned again towards the direction of the voice and groped my way towards it, using the cold, smooth wall as my guide.
“That will do. Now turn ninety degrees to your right.”
I did as I was told, shivering again in a mixture of anticipation and fear.
“Wonderful. Now take a couple of steps forward. You’ll find a small dressing table in front of you.”
I found it almost immediately, and paused, not quite knowing what to do next. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I was able to make out a tall mirror in front of me. Despite the fog, the full moon was battling its way through a gap in the curtains, throwing streaks of light across the looking glass, and as I stared harder I caught sight of my own face in the middle of it, pale and scared. Just seconds later I became aware of a dark shadow moving behind me.
“Now bend over the table.”
I rested my forearms on the surface and stretched my legs out behind me. When Eliza spoke again, her warm breath was against my neck.
“Put your head on the table.”
I lowered my head, turning it to one side, and try to seek out the position that was least uncomfortable. Eliza, however, was in no mood to waste any further time, and forced my head down with a single strong hand, holding it in position, just in case there was any doubt as to who was in control of this particular situation. Once she was satisfied that with my subservience, she released her grip slightly, trailing her fingers down my neck and then over my back, tracing the welts caused by her scarlet nails. The sudden switch from aggression to tenderness turned my heart beat into a drum roll.
When her hand reached my butt it was joined by another, squeezing the ample flesh and allowing her fingers to slide into my crack. There seemed to be no limit to her depraved desire. I know felt a leg sliding its way between mine, forcing them open until once again my pussy was gaping for her convenience.
“My, my,” she commented breathlessly. “Your cunt is dripping! Perhaps somebody’s in need of a little release?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but only a whimper came out. Eliza’s long fingers had now found my pussy, and were sliding up and down the wet slit, pausing agonisingly over my swollen clit and then returning to the entrance to gather more juices before sliding them back up to my asshole. When she reached my virgin hole, she reduced the pressure considerably, using just two fingers to cover it in my juices and stretching the muscles ever so slightly as she did so.
I’d never been a fan of anal. Too many horror stories about the pain and the discomfort, but somehow Eliza’s touch was shattering every single one of these myths. That didn’t mean that I wanted it to happen, though, and when I felt my tight hole beginning to relax and invite some kind of penetration, I almost passed out from horror.
For once, Eliza seemed to realise that she’d taken things a little too far, and moved her fingers back to my clit. But what happened next took me completely by surprise. Just as I was settling into the slow circling sensation on my throbbing nub, I felt by butt cheeks being forced apart and something firm and wet descending on my sphincter. A couple of short swirling thrusts and I knew exactly what my beautiful wicked temptress was up to – she was rimming me with the skilful stroke of a person who was an expert in this uncharted area of my vulnerable body.
I tried to tighten my anus, but I was no match for her probing tongue, which was beginning to probe deeper inside me with every stroke. Soon I was moaning loudly, feeling the tension reaching crisis point inside me. Her fingers were still hard at work on my clit, which was now so swollen that she was able to holding it between first finger and thumb, squeezing down its length and then rubbing it as my asshole began to contract around her insistent tongue.
Satisfied with my reaction, Eliza suddenly rose to her feet. Her fingers were still firmly on my clit, but now she was moving closer, tightening her arm around my waist until I felt something hard poking between my butt cheeks. She was wearing a strap-on, and now she was going to fuck me with it. I braced my self for the intrusion, but at the last moment she allowed the dildo to slide to my drenched pussy, and thrust it all the way inside me with a strength that seemed to defy her feminine frame.
I gasped and arched back towards her, wanting her as deep inside me as the latex appendage would go, but Eliza was having none of it. Instead, she simply held me there. I was impaled on the rigid cock – her possession, and she seemed to be enjoying every moment.
She withdrew it slowly, and then moved it back towards my sphincter, allowing its wetness to provide all the lubrication she needed. I felt the pressure building. I was going to be fucked in the ass whether I liked it or not, and the longer the dildo stayed there nudging against the entrance of my tight brown rose, the more I decided that I did like it after all.
It entered my anal passage with a satisfying plop, and this time when I pushed back against her, she responded to my wordless pleas. Her first strokes were short and rough, as she inched deeper into my body than I’d ever thought possible. Once she could go no further, she withdrew until the dildo was threatening to come right out, but within a split second it was thrust inside me again, deep slow strokes that complemented the light fingering of my clit like fire on ice. I was hers, and she knew it.
She substituted her fingers with her thumb and suddenly penetrated my pussy with all four of her fingers. I was more than ready for it, and the sensation drove me to new heights of ecstasy. Eliza was filling my body, reaching deeper and deeper inside me with each stroke, until my legs were threatening to collapse underneath me.
I screamed and felt the release that I’d been craving for what felt like a lifetime. I no longer had control of my body as it bucked and writhed against her, willing her to fuck me into oblivion. Despite the dark I was seeing stars, flashes of light streaking across my peripheral vision as the sounds and sensations fused and sent me to another dimension. Sharp teeth were now grazing against my neck, and just as I thought I could take no more, they suddenly closed around my skin in an animal bite that drove me hurtling over the edge.
When I opened my eyes I was back on the bed. My body felt like lead. Every ounce of energy had been used in taking the vigorous fucking that had been in the offing since Eliza had first laid sight on my ripped shorts. It was almost to incredible to be true, but yet it was true, and the tongue that was now lapping up the remnants of my juices bore adequate testimony to its reality.
Noticing that I’d stirred, Eliza suddenly stopped what she was doing and gazed with a tired smile.
“You sleep like an angel,” she began, and placed a soft kiss on my lips, “and you taste every bit as sweet as I’d imagined a pretty young creature like you would.”
I blushed slightly and turned my head away. It was already dawn, and Eliza had drawn the curtains to allow the watery sunlight to come flooding into the room.
“I have a car to take you back to your accommodation whenever you’re ready,” she said with a hint of disappointment in her voice. “Although I’ll be very sorry to let you go. I trust you’ll come back again to visit me from time to time?”
I nodded and sought out her lips for another gentle kiss.
“Good. We shouldn’t waste too much time. It’ll be morning soon, and I can guarantee that I’m as much of a feared sight in the village as the cat that you’ve been seeking. And much like that creature, I prefer to avoid the antagonism if I can.”
My clothes had been brought up to the bedroom, washed, dried and mended so that I could enter the Owain Glyndwr without having to worry about any disapproving stares. Eliza watched me as I dressed, sprawling on the bed with her head resting on her hand. She’d been busy while I slept. There was no evidence of my earlier breakage, and as I crossed over to the window, I noticed that my bike had been propped up against the gate.
It was still a twisted wreck, but what caught my attention wasn’t the mangled front wheel or the limp chain – it was a dark creature, slinking along the path with its tail moving from side to side. I caught my breath.
“My camera! Quick! It’s here!”
Eliza rose from the bed and crossed over calmly to where I was standing.
“So there it is.”
“Eliza, please! Where did you put my camera? This could transform my life!”
“Not to mention the life of the poor creature.”
I struggled to understand what she was trying to say.
“Think about it, Beth. What’s going to happen when you provide the world with overwhelming evidence that a beautiful, exotic creature like this is living on their doorstep?”
I suddenly saw her point perfectly. It would be hounded, hunted, caught or even killed – all for the sake of my advancing career. I couldn’t do it. Like my chance meeting with Eliza, this was one wild encounter that was better kept a secret, and I returned to civilisation with a smile on my face that alone was worth a thousand pictures.