Destroying Angel by Sam Hastings Page A

on the floor, rubbing frantically at herself as her back arched and her muscles spasmed.
    Then it was over and she was trembling on the floor, her body damp with sweat, legs still wide apart, not caring in the least what she was showing.
    ‘Lick me, Paulette,’ she heard Annabella say. The beautiful, haughty voice was still cool and very much in charge, despite the obvious flush of pleasure on her face and the moist state of her vulva.
    Susan sat back as Paulette got to her knees and sank her face between Annabella’s open thighs. Exhaling slowly, she closed her eyes to the full moon of Paulette’s bottom and the soft moans coming from their erstwhile mistress as her pleasure rose.
    ‘That was something else,’ Paulette said as they walked along the canal bank away from de Vergy’s house.
    Susan nodded agreement, rather too aware of her smarting bottom to give Paulette her full attention. It was true; Annabella de Vergy made an excellent mistress, even if she had taken the spanking a bit further than Susan would really have liked.
    ‘It’s a shame she had to go to work,’ Paulette continued blithely, ‘but, like she said, there’ll be other times. You really throw a tantrum when you’re spanked, don’t you?’
    ‘It was hard!’ Susan protested.
    Paulette laughed and promptly changed the subject. ‘Shame about the scandal, or rather the lack of a scandal. I suppose I should have known Sowerby was on a wild goat chase; silly old fart.’
    ‘Are you giving up then?’
    ‘I suppose so,’ Paulette sighed. ‘But at least we met Annabella, so it’s not a total wash-out.’
    ‘So I sucked Paul Berner for nothing?’
    ‘It’ll teach you your place,’ Paulette joked, imitating Annabella’s accent.
    ‘Unless, of course, there is a scandal but Annabella simply doesn’t know anything about it,’ Susan speculated. ‘You saw how self-confident she is. Maybe she’s being cheated and doesn’t know it.’
    ‘Maybe,’ Paulette replied dubiously, ‘but she seemed to know her stuff…’
    ‘You’re probably right,’ Susan admitted. ‘In any case, it seems pretty certain that she’s not involved in any way. In all the interviews I can remember, I’ve never seen a guilty person so calm and offhand. One thing we do know; Sowerby never managed to have Annabella.’
    ‘How?’ Paulette queried.
    ‘He had no idea what her pussy looks like,’ Susan answered, drawing a laugh and a cheeky grin from Paulette.
    Bob Tweed pressed a button as the sleek, black Jaguar approached the barrier. The driver, Annabella de Vergy, gave him the merest nod as she passed, a gesture of lofty condescension that made him want to spit. Stuck-up cow, he thought, acting as if she was better than anybody else, especially him. True, she ran a successful wine import business while he was a night-watchman on an industrial estate, but in his eyes she had no right to behave as if she were superior to him.
    ‘Bitch,’ he mumbled under his breath at the departing Jaguar. For a long moment he stood looking after the car, even when it had passed from sight, feeling resentful and self-pitying. He was still staring in the same direction when the sound of a horn drew his attention back to his job. It was a BMW, the driver hooting irritably for his attention.
    ‘Keep your mind on your job,’ the man snapped as he passed, once more drawing a sullen curse from the watchman. The man was Philip Ruddock, manager at de Vergy Fine Wines and, if anything, even more stuck-up than his boss. de Vergy was haughty and aloof, where Ruddock was actively rude. Despite that, Tweed found Ruddock less irritating; it was easier to be looked down upon by a man than a woman.
    Being Sunday, the estate was nearly empty, only a few late workers remaining. Other than the wine warehouse, only a handful of places opened on Sunday and, of those, de Vergy, Ruddock, and their staff were invariably the last to leave. They were always the last to turn up as well. Lazy