Sex Thief

Sex Thief
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ISBN:  9781780802909
Author:  Ray Gordon
Word Count:  93,391
Format:  eBook

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Red HotRed Hot
Sex CrazedSex Crazed
Sex PracticeSex Practice

Removing the chain from the dog collar, she forced her victim's body over the table, securing her in the degrading position by fixing the rope to the collar and running it across the table. Binding the end to one of the legs, she moved behind Jade, kneeling behind her rounded buttocks and released her ankles, chuckling wickedly as she parted the girl's feet...

By day Jade is an unimposing secretary. By night she runs amok as a gorgeous cat-burglar, raiding the country mansions of the rich and famous. And everything is fine until she is caught red-handed by a wealthy businessman.

She quickly realizes she is not cut out for a life behind bars so, after peeling off her skin-tight black catsuit, she persuades him to let her go. But that is only the beginning of her nocturnal sex romps. Jade's journey is dangerous, sexual in the extreme, and finally...

Jade finally drove to Earl Alban's house and parked in the lane, wondering whether he was at home. Finding the servants' door unlocked, she slipped inside. Was this a good idea? she wondered, her anxiety rising as she stole along a darkened hallway. Picturing the barometer, she slipped across the dining hall, her heart racing as she eyed the closed door to the art gallery. Recalling the dildo, the young Earl's sweeping tongue, she shuddered. What had called her back to the house? Her clitoris or the barometer?
   "I'm surprised you've got the nerve to come back here," the Earl said, emerging from his gallery.
   "Surprised?" she echoed, noticing the anger mirrored in his dark eyes as she stepped back several paces. "What... what do you mean?"
   "After what you did, to come back for a third time is..."
   "A third time? You know that I've only been here once before."
   "Come on, Jade. You stole several paintings last night while I was out. I thought we..."
   "I did nothing of the sort!" she returned.
   "Why leave your calling card and then deny it?"
   "I haven't been here since I last saw you, I swear!"
   "The clock was one thing, but the paintings are worth several hundred thousand pounds."
   "Look, I don't know what's going on..."
   "Don't lie to me, Jade. For a reason unknown to me, I trusted you. I thought I'd leave the servants' door open so you could come and see me, not steal from me again. God, I must be a fool."
   "I saw your advert, but I haven't been back here."
   "Come with me, I want to show you something."
   Following him into the hall and up the broad staircase, Jade wondered what was going on. Calling card? What was he trying to do, pin a fictitious robbery on her? Climbing the stairs to the top of the house, she followed him through a small door into a musky attic, her blue eyes frowning as he closed and locked the door. Switching the light on and grabbing two lengths of rope, he frowned, eyeing her suspiciously.
   "Where are my paintings?" he asked, taking her arm and binding her wrist with rope.
   "I don't..." she began, looking about the dusty attic, wondering what he was planning to do with her.
   "Where have you stashed them?"
   "Apart from the clock, I haven't taken anything."
   Tying the end of the rope to a beam running along the sloping roof, he bound her other wrist, stretching her arm out and securing the end to a second beam the other side of the attic. Standing with her feet apart, her arms outstretched, she lowered her head, watching as he tugged her miniskirt down her long legs.
   "I know nothing about your bloody paintings!" she said angrily as he stood before her and unbuttoned her blouse.
   "You also stole a collection of pocket watches from Baroness Graham."
   "No, someone got there before me. How do you know about that, anyway?"
   "A friend told me. You left your calling card in her drawing room, Jade."
   "I didn't! The watches had gone, someone else had..."
   "Leaving a pair of panties at the scene of the crime is stupid, particularly if you're going to deny committing the robbery."
   "Listen, I went to her house to steal the pocket watches, but someone had beaten me to it. I left with nothing, I swear. And I certainly didn't leave any panties."
   Ripping her blouse in two and tossing it to the floor, he gazed at her full bra, her erect nipples clearly defined by the tight material. Unhooking the garment, peeling the silk cups away from her firm breasts, he stood back and admired her mammary globes. Running his fingertip around her darkening areolae, circling her succulent nipples, he looked down at the fullness of her tight panties.
   "Presumably you've sold the pocket watches," he said, kneeling before her and running his fingertip over the swell of the triangular patch of material covering her swollen sex lips.
   "Whoever took the watches will be on video tape. Someone got there before me, they'll be on tape and..."
   "Jade, you know very well that you removed the tape from the machine."
   "This is ridiculous! I didn't take the watches, and as for your paintings, you know very well that I couldn't have stolen them. I was being held prisoner at Brentwood House last night."
   "What are you talking about?"
   "You suggested I went there because you knew Elizabeth would..."
   "Elizabeth's my cousin, she..."
   "Why send me there, then?"
   "She owes me a considerable amount of money, money that I doubt I'll never see. I know she's not insured and I thought you'd notice the French carriage clock she has in her lounge. Knowing your liking for antique clocks, I thought you'd steal it. I was going to suggest we do a deal, perhaps buy the clock from you."
   "You knew she'd sexually abuse me."
   "What? Sexually... Have you gone mad?"
   "Far from it! She stripped me, handcuffed and whipped me, forced her bloody lesbian ways on me and..."
   "Hang on, hang on! Elizabeth might be crazy, but she's not a lesbian - and she's certainly not into sexual abuse. I've heard enough of your lies, Jade. You left your calling card in the drawing room when you stole the watches, and in my lounge when you stole my paintings. How you can deny it, I have no idea. You knew the servants' door would be open, you left a pair of panties..."
   "I had nothing to do with it!"
   "If you're trying to convince me that it's a coincidence, than you must think me stupid."
   As the Earl pulled her panties down, unveiling her hairless pussy lips, her blatantly displayed sex slit, Jade tried to fathom what had happened. Either he was lying, or someone was impersonating her, leaving red panties at the scenes of the crimes to implicate her. But why?
   "Why have you shaved?" the Earl asked, pulling her panties off her feet and stroking her ballooning pussy lips. "And what are those red marks?"
   "Elizabeth did it," she sighed, sure that he wouldn't believe her. "She tied me to a bed, thrashed me there and then shaved me."
   "Now you're being ridiculous. As if she'd..."
   "You're as bad as you cousin, stripping and abusing me like this."
   "I'm doing this because I want my paintings back. As it happens, I haven't had them very long and hadn't got round to adding them to my insurance."
   "So you're going to thrash me until I confess to something I had nothing to do with?"
   "I'm going to keep you here you until you tell me where my paintings are."
   "If you touch me, I'll go to the police and..."
   "And what? Tell them that you robbed me? Tell them that you robbed Baroness Graham and Elizabeth? If you go anywhere near a police station, you'll be signing your own death certificate, and you know it. I'm going to leave you here to contemplate for a while."
   "I'm cold, you can't leave me like this!"
   "The sooner you tell me where my paintings are, the sooner I'll release you. I'll be up later."
   As he left and closed the door, Jade hung her head, wondering how on earth she'd been bound, stripped and taken prisoner yet again. Obviously, whoever had taken the pocket watches had also taken the Earl's paintings - the panties proved that. It must be the letter writer, she reflected. That was their game, she was sure - rob mansions and country houses, leaving red panties to incriminate her. They knew she'd been to the Earl's house, and had decided to steal the paintings, the finger of blame pointing at Pussy Pillage. The calling card left in the drawing room of Baroness Graham's house would leave the police in no doubt that Pussy Pillage had struck again.
   "God," she breathed, realizing that dozens of future robberies might be put down to her. Tied up in the attic, the Earl convinced she'd stolen his paintings, there was nothing she could do to prove her innocence. She was doomed...

...After three hours shivering in the attic, her legs aching, her nipples painfully erect with the cold, Jade wondered whether the Earl had forgotten about her. Perhaps he was visiting Elizabeth in an effort to confirm her story of imprisonment and sexual abuse, she mused. But he didn't believe a word of her tales, so why would he bother? And Elizabeth would hardly confess!
   Jade had never believed that he'd treat her like this, leave her naked, bound with rope, freezing in the attic. She'd thought him to be gentle, an ardent admirer of the delicate female form, not a monster. There again, after their intimate time in the gallery of erotic art, he'd probably never dreamed that she'd steal his paintings. Perhaps debauchery ran in the family, she pondered, recalling Elizabeth's wicked ways.
   "Right!" he growled as he entered the attic. "Are you going to tell me what I want to know?"
   "Bryan, I've been thinking," she sighed as he stood before her and tweaked her succulent nipples. "I've been receiving anonymous letters from someone who has detailed information about the burglaries. They know where I live, and I reckon they're committing robberies and leaving panties to incriminate me."
   "How do they know so much about you?"
   "I haven't got a clue."
   "It's a wonderful story, but it's rubbish."
   "It's not!"
   "Who could possibly have detailed information about the robberies you've committed? Have you ever told anyone?"
   "No, no I haven't."
   "There you are, then. It's no good coming out with fiction, Jade - you know the truth and so do I. Now. I want my paintings back."
   "I haven't got your bloody paintings!"
   "Right, I'll try another method. I didn't want to have to do this, but those paintings are extremely valuable, and I want them back. You've forced me to do this, Jade."
   "You sound just like your cousin."
   "Don't start that rot again."
   Standing behind her tethered body, the Earl spanked her naked buttocks as hard as he could with the palm of his hand. Grimacing, she tossed her head back, biting her lip as she wondered how to convince him that she was telling the truth. Her stinging anal globes beginning to burn as loud slaps resounded around the attic, she knew she'd never convince him. He'd thrash her, abuse her until...
   "I have some friends," he said, halting the spanking. "Unless you tell me where my paintings are, I'll have them to deal with you."
   "Friends?" she echoed, turning her head to face him as he ran his fingertip up and down her anal crease.
   "I've already phoned them, they'll be here soon. Actually, they're not friends, they're acquaintances. As you'll appreciate, in my position, I sometimes need to call on people who... Let's just say that they're undesirable types."
   "What do you mean by that?"
   "Unlike me, they look upon the female form as an object to be used for sex. I thought we might have something together, Jade. After what we did, I thought you'd come back and we'd enjoy... Well, it just goes to show how very wrong one can be."
   "Who are these people?"
   "It doesn't matter who they are. I suggest you tell me where my paintings are rather than force me to have them deal with you."
   "I don't know where they are! God, I'm beginning to wish I had stolen them!"
   "OK, have it your way."
   Grabbing two more lengths of rope, he tied them to her ankles, pulling her feet as wide apart as possible and securing the ends to two vertical beams either side of the attic. Her vaginal crack gaping, her sex entrance bared, she wondered what she was in for as he knelt before her naked body and scrutinized her vaginal valley, her pink inner petals. His tongue lapping up her flowing juices of desire, sweeping over the sensitive nub of her exposed clitoris, she recalled the massive orgasm she'd experienced in the art gallery.
   Things could have been so very different, she reflected, imagining the dildo thrusting in and out of her spasming pussy as he'd licked and sucked her pulsating clitoris. If he gave her time, time to prove her innocence, they could still be different. Deciding to lie about the paintings, she looked down at the Earl, his face pressed against her naked vulval flesh.
   "Bryan, the paintings..." she began, her body quivering as her ripening clitoris responded to his caressing tongue. "They're quite safe."
   "Where are they?" he asked, driving three fingers into the tightening sheath of her drenched sex duct.
   "At a friend's house."
   "And the address?"
   "I... I'll take you there."
   "You're lying again, Jade," he returned as the doorbell rang.
   "I'm not. I'll have to take you there because..."
   "My acquaintances are here, so you'd better give me the address." Slipping his wet fingers out of her drenched pussy, he rose to his feet and locked his dark eyes to hers. Was there compassion reflected in the deep pools of his eyes? she wondered. "If I discover that the paintings aren't there, Jade..."
   "No, I... I lied. I don't have the paintings."
   "I find this whole business very disappointing. I've invested a considerable amount of money in those paintings, and I want them back."
   "Bryan, please!"
   "Please what? I'm the one who's pleading, Jade. I'm the one who's lost hundreds of thousands of pounds. I'm sorry, but you leave me no choice."
   As he walked across the creaking floorboards and closed the door behind him, Jade looked about the attic, her naked body quivering with anticipation. There was no escape, she was helpless, completely vulnerable, she knew as she heard people bounding up the stairs, male voices chuckling. She couldn't blame the Earl, he'd lost hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of paintings and firmly believed that she had them - she couldn't blame him...

Average Rating (2 Reviews):  
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Rating:  
Keep the ice bucket handy
Friday, 22 February 2013  | 

Ray Gordon is at his very dirty best if he doesn't try to write slapstick comedy at the same time; and this is one of those happy occasions. The story is just there to keep us going from one very raunchy situation to another, and if we talk about very heavily backdoor-oriented action, we're dealing with more than only the way by which our heroine with criminal intent usually enters the premises. But whatever your fancy is, you are sure to find your prayers answered in this book. Hot 'n heavy, first-rate porn.


Rating:  
Imaginative and well written with outstanding sex!
Wednesday, 5 September 2012  | 

Who says that crime doesn't pay? The heroine in this book has discovered that crime not only pays financially, but sexually. Her exploits take her from one seemingly disastrous situation to another, but she knows what she's got and how to use it. A female myself, I wonder whether I should buy a catsuit and ... No. I think I'll stick to reading Ray Gordon's amazing books.


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