I arrived back at the flat at 1 am, to find one very relieved detective. Mary took me into the bedroom, because she could see that at some point that evening I’d been crying. I gave her a rough outline of what had happened and removed my dress to show her the long red marks left by the tawse.
“I hate saying ‘I told you so’, but the man is a serial abuser and won’t change his ways.”
“I know Mary. I beginning to think I’m a masochist, because I forget so easily what he does to me.”
“I’m sure you’re not. Your situation is rife among girls of your age, especially in the suburbs of London.”
I listened to her sermon and then had a quick shower. Mary showed no signs of being tired so I continued my story, while draped across the bed, flat on my tummy. Mary had volunteered to rub cold cream on my bruises, which on the spur of the moment I’d agreed to.
“Beth, I have a confession to make,” she sighed, while opening the jar. “Dennis was right to assume that I’m a lesbian. Ever since I gave up working the streets, I’ve moved away from wanting to be with men …”
I wasn’t surprised to hear her confession, for I’d caught her studying me several times with that ‘I want to make out with her’ look. It was a common expression of lust among the dykes in Holloway and one that I’d become very wary of.
“What about your job? Your undercover work?” I asked, as Mary started to apply a dollop of cream to each of my smarting globes.
“Look Beth, prostitution is a terrible stain on our society. We know that from our own experiences. I became disgusted by the practice and the way all men treat us like whores, even husbands and boyfriends. These feelings have continued into my adult life, but when I go undercover, I look upon it as just part of the job.”
“I’m not like you Mary,” I conceded. “I like to feel a thrusting cock inside me. If it hadn’t have been for this fucking murder investigation, I’d probably have one filling my quim right now!”
“Or you could be covered in welts and bruises,” she pointed out, squeezing one of my cheeks to emphasize her point. “Oh Beth, you have such a beautiful body. What on earth made you chose a life of Prostitution?”
Her hands had become a little too eager to spread cream onto areas that hadn’t been bruised. I turned my head to look at her.
“Circumstances I spose. The men want what I have and are prepared to pay for it, and I usually enjoy myself. The Danger is a turn-on and I like cock. It’s as simple as that.” Her creamy fingers had reached where the under slopes of my peach join my thighs.
What the hell I thought, so I opened my legs to give her room to explore as far as she wanted. I closed my eyes and imagined that Dennis was the owner of the insistent digits.
“Tell me to stop Beth if you’ve had enough.”
I kept quiet, while her fingers gently rubbed the thin strip of tender flesh between my anus and the swirl of my vagina. Two slippery fingers soon moved down into my cleft, searching for my clit, while her thumb teased the rim of my anus.
Fuck! I thought, I’m being finger fucked by a fucking detective! She was damn good at it though, for she knew exactly where I wanted her attentions. While her thumb eased itself into my tightest orifice, her fingers rubbed and teased my aching nub. Once she had played with it for a while and ignited a thrilling sensation, her fingers slipped into my sopping entrance, so she could tease both channels simultaneously. After locating my hot spot she treated me to the most amazing scissor fuck I’d ever experienced.