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Undercover secrets, p.18

Undercover Secrets, page 18


Undercover Secrets

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  Anna shivered in the water, despite the soothing temperature of the pool. It seemed her theory about the Institute’s work was wrong. She hoped so. But if it was, then what was the real reason for all those experiments which couldn’t be explained? And why was the Institute named after Mary Shelley?

  She climbed out of the pool and went to get showered. As the strong jets of heat pummelled her skin, she tried to work methodically through what she’d discovered so far. But the facts she had stored in her brain only threw up more questions. There had to be a link between the way Peter and Joan treated her and the Institute’s secrets. Perhaps the answer lay in that ‘other place’— the place Peter had told her she would see when she was ready. As far as Anna was concerned, she was ready now.

  She dried herself. Leaving her hair damp, she got dressed again in her tracksuit and trainers and made her way to the entrance hall. The front door clicked open in recognition of her security bracelet and she stepped outside.

  She jogged down to the perimeter fence and then followed its wide circle around the building. Looking up at the huge white monstrosity, she mapped out what went where. The ground floor was taken care of, as were the next three floors which housed the labs, offices and bedrooms. She had walked around those levels and knew they hid nothing. But the top floor of the Institute was a different matter. Anna had seen the office Peter had used for her interview, as well as the adjoining rooms: the one she’d been in last night on one side and the monitoring room on the other. But what else was up there, lurking behind the blank, windowless walls? Whatever it was, she hadn’t seen it during her stint at the monitors. It had to be the only part of the building that wasn’t covered by closed-circuit TV.

  She jogged around the building once more, deciding on her plan of action. If she explored, she would be seen in the monitoring room. She hadn’t been shown the top floor of the Institute during her guided tour; but then again, she’d never been told it was out of bounds. If someone caught her snooping about she could always say she was looking for Peter or Simon or Frank. It was a chance she’d have to take, because she needed something to crack open this story with. She needed hard evidence.

  Hoping she would find some, and wanting to be prepared for it, she ran around the back of the building to the car park. Hovering, she waited while the distant camera slowly swooped away from her before sprinting to Mike’s car. Hidden from view, she crouched down beside the passenger door and felt underneath the car. Fixed on to the undercarriage was a small plastic casing. She undid the catch, slid the little box to one side and prised out the tiny camcorder hidden inside. It was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, and she kept it there while she ran back round to the front of the building, slipping it into her pocket as she went back inside.

  There were a few people milling about in the hallway, although not as many as Anna would have expected. This was a day off for all of the staff, and yet Anna had barely seen anyone since breakfast. The pool had been empty. The staff normally congregated in the hall to chat and discuss which of the leisure facilities to use, but today there were only three people standing by the noticeboard. The place seemed deserted, and if Anna hadn’t known better she’d have assumed everyone had gone out. But as Peter had said on Anna’s first day, none of the staff went outside much. As far as Anna could see, only a handful ever got any fresh air at all. Like her, a few jogged or walked round the fence, and they would wave at her as she’d casually return from her telephone calls with Mike. It was strange to be in the Lake District and never venture out of the research centre. What kept them here, these young, attractive people? What made them so contented? And where were they all today?

  Anna walked past the waiting lift and went up the back staircase. She was out of breath again by the time she reached the top floor, and she peered through the window in the top of the door while she recovered, checking to see who was around. There was no one. She put her hand in her pocket and wrapped her fingers tightly round her camera. She stepped through the door.

  It was pointless creeping, so she strode purposefully down the passageway, past the interview room. As she reached the corner of the building, she was surprised to find that the corridor running at right angles to this one was partitioned off. It was separated by another doorway and, unlike all the other doors in the Institute, this one was black. It looked forbidding, but when Anna tested it she found it was open. It was irresistible.

  The corridor beyond was black, too. Walls, ceiling, floor; the only lights filtering through the darkness were thin slivers of yellow coming from beneath the doors lining the right-hand wall. Anna stepped up to the first one. Pressing her ear to the door, she felt her blood chill at the sounds she heard on the other side. Feeling something move slightly against her ear, she peered through the gloom. Seeing with her fingers, she made out a letterbox-shaped flap at eye level. With her heart in her throat, she lifted the flap.

  What she saw inside that room forced the breath out of her in a rush which was deafening in the thick silence of the passageway. For a nerve-shattering instant, she thought that Frank was right: there was torture being inflicted at the Institute, and these were the torture chambers. But as she stood, transfixed, she realised that the people inside were not in pain at all. What she was witnessing was torture of a different kind.

  Anna recognised the woman. She was tall, with dark chocolate skin, a lean body and high, slight breasts. She worked in the lab next to Simon’s, and she beamed at Anna whenever they passed each other. But today her wide smile was set in a grimace. Her teeth were clenched, her eyes closed, her eyebrows dipping together. Her face and body were taut with agony; the agony of too much pleasure.

  She was strapped into a device which hung from the ceiling. Her slender wrists were held above her head, fixed into cuffs attached to heavy chains. A complex leather cage held her torso suspended, pushing up her breasts where the dark-red leather bands crisscrossed her body. More bands wound around her open thighs, and chains attached to these sections held her upper legs parallel to the floor while her lower legs dangled free. It was a type of swing, and the man standing between her spread thighs was using it as such. While he stood still, he pushed and pulled on the chains, moving her body towards and away from him. Every time he swung her close, her pussy enveloped his cock; when the backward swing took her away again, their bodies were parted. It was a complicated way to fuck, but as Anna watched she understood the pleasure. Not only was the woman helpless, a prisoner in her leather harness, but as the momentum gathered force their bodies were slammed together more and more fiercely. The girl groaned through gritted teeth as her partner’s cock was plunged deeper and harder inside her with every swing. Anna couldn’t keep her eyes off the place where the two of them joined, where his angrily rearing prick slid remorselessly in and out of her scarlet folds of flesh. Anna’s pussy yearned to feel what that woman felt. Her knickers grew wet as her hunger spread down from her belly and across her hips.

  With a jolt, she remembered why she was there. She needed evidence, and here was the perfect opportunity to capture one part of the Institute’s secret activities. Fumbling with her tiny video recorder, she flicked the switch and held it up to the hatch. She filmed for a moment, then put it on pause, moving on to the next doorway.

  Through every hatch there was another scene of torturous ecstasy. Here, being played out, were desires Anna had only dreamt about, and even then only in her subconscious. Perhaps her subconscious had been trying to tell her something. Perhaps the manipulative games she played with men had become boring, and her mind was craving darker distractions. Whatever the reason, the bizarre images flitting across her eyes were sending sparks of longing flashing over her skin.

  Trying to concentrate on her work, she attempted to distance herself from what she was seeing and to push her own thoughts away. But it was impossible. As she watched the men using the harnessed women, she could barely keep her tiny camera steady. If this was the place Peter had promised to sho
w her, she wanted to experience it now. But she knew she was kidding herself when she silently promised that her curiosity was only for the sake of her investigation. Deep inside, in the twisted, black core of her soul, she knew beyond doubt that her curiosity was rooted in her own selfish pleasure. Her panties were seeping with warmth, and that had nothing to do with her excitement at finding her way into the Institute’s covert activities.

  She reached the final door, her fingers trembling as she raised the hatch. A whimper curled from her lips at what she saw. Pressing the camera’s lens right up to the opening, she dropped her other hand. Easing her palm beneath the waistband of her tracksuit pants, she slipped her fingers into the heat of her knickers.

  So far, it seemed, Anna had only been given a hint of Joan’s hidden sexuality. Here, the woman’s most depraved desires were on open display. Blindfolded, she was dressed in a black PVC leotard with holes for her breasts and pussy. She was lying on her back, on a black leather stretcher in the centre of the small, dark room. Trussed like an animal, both her hands and ankles were cuffed together. Ropes hoisted her arms and legs straight up to the ceiling. Her buttocks were on the edge of the bed, the PVC stretched tight and shiny over her rump. A man dressed from head to toe in rubber was standing at the foot of the bed, thrusting into her sex. Only his cock and balls were visible, protruding from his catsuit as if they were the only parts of his body that mattered. At Joan’s head, kneeling over her as she had done to Anna, a similarly dressed man was pumping his rigid cock into Joan’s mouth. Joan was being used, and by the sound of it she was having the time of her life.

  One of the men was coming, grunting so loudly that Anna never heard a sound behind her. The next thing she knew, the camera had been ripped out of her fingers and a hand had been clasped to her mouth.

  ‘Don’t say a word,’ Peter whispered. ‘They’re lost in their own fantasy world. You’ll ruin it if they hear you talking.’ His breath was hot on her ear. ‘I’m going to take my hand away now. You’re not to speak until I say so, do you understand?’

  Anna nodded. Peter’s hand eased its grip on her face and fell down to her waist. Turning her round, he guided her away from the hatch and towards the end of the corridor. Anna’s pulse raced out of control as he showed her through a door into another passageway.

  ‘They can’t hear us in here,’ he said. His eyes burnt hot and cold. ‘Now, would you care to tell me what you’re doing? And don’t lie,’ he added, as Anna opened her mouth. ‘I’ll know if you’re lying.’

  This corridor was painted black too, but there were small lights overhead. Peter was standing directly underneath one, and it cast dramatic shadows on his face. God, she prayed, if you exist, please help me out of this one.

  ‘I… I wanted to find the place you told me about last night.’ She looked imploringly up at Peter, begging him to be lenient. She was telling the truth, after all; if not the whole truth, then half, at least. ‘I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have come, but… I was curious.’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t have come. I told you, you would see this place when the time was right. You’re not ready yet.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, scared of the menace in his voice.

  ‘What’s this?’ he asked, brandishing the camera.

  ‘I… I brought it with me when I came to the Institute…I…’

  How could she explain it? Terrified, convinced that her cover must have been blown, she watched as Galloway studied the little silver box. He fiddled with the tiny buttons, stared into the lens, then seemed to realise what it was. Holding the viewfinder to his eye, he pointed the camcorder at Anna. When he lowered his hand, there was a nasty, crooked smile on his lips.

  ‘Well, Anna. Either you’re a spy, sent from another lab to get information —’ he took a step towards her ‘— or, you’re a well-equipped, voyeuristic little pervert.’ Anna gasped as he shoved his hand inside her pants. His middle finger slid easily up into her wet pussy. ‘And judging by the state of your knickers, I’d say you’re a pervert. Am I right?’

  Anna was speechless. She couldn’t believe she’d got away with it, again. Peter seemed to want to believe she’d brought the camera with her because she was a voyeur. Fixed to Galloway by his probing finger and his searching eyes, she could do nothing but wait for him to speak again.

  ‘You’re even kinkier than I first thought, Anna. I admire your enterprising spirit, bringing your camcorder along to fuel your warped imagination. You were specifically told not to bring anything with you when you came here. And yet you deliberately flouted the rules. Your desire to watch must be very strong.’ He took his finger out of her pants and rubbed the tip across her lower lip.

  ‘Perhaps you are ready for this. What do you think?’

  She didn’t know. Part of her wanted to surrender herself to whatever cruelty Galloway had in mind. Part of her felt afraid. This was his territory she’d stumbled into, and what he did with her now was his decision. Whatever she said wasn’t going to influence him.

  ‘You’ve integrated well here, Anna. But are you prepared for the next step? Are you strong enough to find out what we’re hiding in this Institute — what you’re hiding, in your mind?’ He kissed her forehead with fatherly tenderness. ‘Are you prepared to give yourself to us?’

  His hushed voice sent a shudder down her spine. Anna didn’t feel prepared for anything, and yet she knew there was no turning back. She had to carry on, not only for the investigation, for Mike and the programme, and journalistic acclaim, but because she wanted to. ‘I’m ready,’ she said. ‘Peter, please. I’m strong. Let me take the next step.’

  He seemed to be mulling it over, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared down into her face. Then, all of a sudden, his decision was made. He strode off to the end of the short passage. ‘Get dressed in those clothes. When you’re ready, come through here.’ He left her alone, closing the door behind him.

  In a daze, unsure of what she’d just agreed to, she moved to the wall Peter had waved at. There was a row of pegs running along it. Hanging from each one was a black outfit of some kind, hard to make out in the dim light. With trembling fingers, Anna got one set of clothes down and moved under a light to look at it. There were seamed fishnet stockings and suspenders, a satin basque and a short, straight skirt with a slit up the back. Anna kicked off her trainers and got rid of her tracksuit and underwear. Leaving her pussy bare — as she presumed she was supposed to — she unrolled the stockings and fastened them. They only came halfway up her thighs, several inches beneath the tiny skirt. Seeing the suspenders pulling on the nylons was distinctly tarty; but then, as she put on the basque, she realised that was the point. The satin corset was tight-fitting, and underwired for support beneath her heavy breasts. But there was nothing to cover her breasts, and they perched provocatively over the scooped edge of the material. Stepping into the unfeasibly high, shiny black stilettos waiting under the empty peg, she felt like a dirty wanton displaying her wares. And she liked it: she liked the way her calves tightened; the way her breasts were pushed up, on show; and the way her naked buttocks would be seen up the split in her skirt. As she opened the door to the next room, her barely covered pussy began to throb in anticipation of the effect she would have on whoever was inside.

  She had expected to make an entrance, but not one head turned as she walked in. So this was where everyone was, she thought, looking at the rows and rows of seats. It was a lecture theatre of sorts, with everyone sitting in their lab coats as they had done on her first day. But this time, the audience wasn’t looking at her. It was no surprise that her entrance hadn’t caused a stir; the audience had something far more shocking to look at.

  This room was long and thin, stretching the length of the corridor Anna had just walked down. The sex chambers all backed on to this room. She realised now why the small cells each had huge mirrors filling their entire back walls. These mirrors were made of one-way glass, giving the audience a secret view into every chamber. They
could see into every room at once; it was like a cinema, with seven small screens instead of one big one. But these weren’t films; they were real scenarios being acted out by real people. And the audience was more deeply involved than at any movie Anna had ever been to.

  A blonde girl, dressed identically to Anna, took her hand. They climbed the shallow stairs running along the wall, up to the back of the room. There was a long bar up there, and as the woman fiddled around behind it Anna stared down at the seats stretching out in front of her. The audience was completely silent; mesmerised, as she had been, by the sex shows being performed behind the glass.

  ‘Take this.’

  Anna spun round. The blonde had prepared a silver tray, with five tall glasses.

  ‘Walk up and down the aisles,’ she said to Anna.

  ‘Someone’ll stop you when they want one.’

  ‘What is that stuff?’ Anna whispered. It looked like real lemonade, slightly fizzy and cloudy.

  ‘Don’t touch it.’ The woman stopped Anna’s hand as she reached for a glass. ‘You’re not allowed to drink while you’re working.’

  She waved Anna away. Concentrating hard as she got used to her impossibly high heels, Anna set off down the far aisle. It was hard tottering in the stilettos and trying not to spill the drinks, and when a hand tugged at her skirt she almost overbalanced and dropped the lot.

  ‘I want one.’

  Anna turned and handed the man a drink. He kept hold of the hem of her skirt, watching her as he drained the glass. Handing it back to Anna, he licked his lips with satisfaction. But he didn’t let go of her, and Anna wondered whether he was still thirsty. ‘Do you want another one?’

  He smiled salaciously. Instead of answering, he put both hands to her thighs and pushed up her short skirt. He stared at her naked pussy for a while, muttering to himself and breathing deeply. Then he seemed to have his fill, and he straightened her skirt down again. His attention turned back to the front of the room and Anna moved on, bemused.

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