Teena: A House of Ill Repute by Jennifer Jane Pope Page B

that I could be so easily brought to orgasm by the combination of an inanimate rubber phallus and a bouncy car seat. Needless to say I lost the contest, not once, but four times, the final three climaxes coming virtually one after the other just after we turned off the main road and began a winding descent along a narrow country lane.
    Carmen's house was set back even from this rustic piece of road, but thankfully, after one lurching bump over a rut just across the gateway, the approach was well maintained and offered a mercifully smooth final cruise of a few hundred yards. The building itself was nowhere near as impressive as the approach suggested, a nineteen-twenties or thereabouts structure of two storeys with a single storey extension of later vintage projecting from one end, to one side of which I could make out a double garage, and behind that what was either a large shed or small barn, though the exterior lights enabling me to get a decent view of everything else did not really penetrate that far back.
    Anne-Marie drove slowly towards the garage although the open doors showed there were already two vehicles in residence, but at the last moment she veered to the left and negotiated the narrow gap between the side of the building and the end of the house extension. We emerged on the edge of a wide expanse of lawn, the lights from the house windows, and from a moon that emerged conveniently from behind the clouds, illuminating enough for me to see it was well tended and bounded on three sides by cordons of high trees.
    'Right then, dolly girls,' Anne-Marie said, switching off the engine and hauling on the handbrake, 'we've arrived and now the fun can begin.' She got out, opened the rear door on Andrea's side and unfastened her seat belt. It then needed quite a lot of effort on both their parts for Andrea to climb out, and the same applied when it came to my turn, but eventually we were standing on the edge of the grassy area, caped, masked and our hands still bound. I looked around, expecting to see some sign of our hostess coming out to welcome us, but if anyone in the house had witnessed our arrival, they gave no indication of it.
    I should at this juncture perhaps give a brief description of Anne-Marie's attire, for although it was in no way as bizarre as ours - she had to drive, after all, and might possibly have had to get out of the car, one never knows - she was still striking in tight leather jeans tucked into high-heeled knee-high boots, and tightly hugging her torso was a zipped leather jacket cut to emphasise her generous figure, bosom and buttocks alike. She also wore black leather gloves, so that only her face and head remained uncovered, giving her an aura of power and control that would have remained even had the two of us not been bound and gagged as we were.
    'Now we have to walk down there through the trees,' she said, clipping leashes to each of our collars. 'Andrea's been here before, but Teenie, go very carefully. The path isn't all that level in places and there are usually bits of odd branch and twig all over the place, especially at this time of the year.'
    And she wasn't kidding, I soon realised, for once we had crossed the lawn the trees closed in on both sides, blocking out almost all the light, a condition made even worse by my tinted lenses. I kept my eyes firmly on Anne-Marie's silhouette as she walked just in front of us, my right shoulder rubbing and bumping against Andrea's in the darkness, my feet occasionally landing on dry twigs that cracked beneath them, or stumbling against larger branches that fortunately were not so big they didn't kick out of my way. It was so overwhelmingly dark the only way I knew we were on a path at all was because Anne-Marie had told us we were. I was mightily relieved when, a few hundred yards or so further on, we emerged into a large clearing.
    The moon had ducked for cover again during our perilous trek, but it chose to make a second reappearance a moment