Ruth Restrained Read online

  Title Page

  RUTH RESTRAINED

  By

  Krys Antarakis

  Publisher Information

  Ruth Restrained first published in 2002 by Chimera Books Ltd. Published as an eBook in 2011 by Chimera Books Ltd

  www.chimerabooks.co.uk

  Chimera a creation of the imagination, a wild fantasy

  Digital Edition Converted and Published by

  Andrews UK Limited

  www.andrewsuk.com

  New authors are always welcome, or if you’re already a published author and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to hear from you.

  This novel is fiction - in real life practice safe sex

  This eBook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The characters and situations in this eBook are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright Krys Antarakis. The right of Krys Antarakis to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Chapter 1

  Ruth checked the fuel gauge as she steered the Beetle skilfully around the continuous bends sweeping down off the high moor. Approaching the grey Yorkshire town, she turned into the little filling station, and smiled as she took it in – a corrugated workshop, two delivery pumps and a wooden chalet that served as cash office and shop. The name board Keith Thorpe Performance Cars seemed laughably pretentious.

  A young man strolled out from the shop to serve her. He was in his late twenties, attractive, and walked with an air of comfortable self-assurance, like someone at ease with life. Short dark hair neatly framed distinct features and keen blue eyes shining with an inscrutable amusement. His body was firm and well proportioned, powerful but not muscle-bound. He moved with an economy of effort, in command of himself and of the world. ‘Yes?’ he asked simply.

  Ruth unlocked the fuel tank. ‘Fill it up, please,’ she said, catching his eye and trying not to let his intent stare affect her. His deep, soft voice had started her stomach fluttering, and now she felt her pussy heat up in response to his penetrating regard. She leaned against the car hoping the reflection from the red paintwork would disguise her flushed cheeks.

  ‘Nice car,’ he complimented her vehicle. ‘You’ve looked after it well.’

  ‘It’s been in my family since it was new,’ she said. His approval pleased her so much she had to make an effort to speak calmly. ‘It’s very reliable.’ She thought her response sounded childish.

  ‘So it should be, with its pedigree.’ The pump cut out. Withdrawing the nozzle, he held it while the residue dripped into the tank.

  Ruth gazed at the phallic metal, and her nipples responded to its overt symbolism by pressing against her bra.

  ‘That’ll be twenty-five pounds,’ he stated curtly.

  She handed him her credit card, and followed him into the cash office, where she watched him process the payment wishing she could prolong the procedure. Her hand trembled slightly as she signed the slip.

  ‘Thank you, Ruth Parrish.’

  ‘My pleasure, Keith Thorpe,’ she retorted, regaining a little composure.

  ‘Ah, but I’m not Keith Thorpe.’ He tilted his head towards the shop and a mechanic in greasy overalls working on a Porsche’s exposed engine. ‘He’s Keith, I’m Jack.’

  Ruth allowed a fleeting look of censure to cross her face, a visual warning for him to check his conceit. ‘Tell me, is there anywhere I can get a decent lunch?’

  ‘Park on the square and you’ll have a choice of places.’

  She turned for the door, but then paused to look back at him over her shoulder. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘My pleasure, Ruth, please call again.’

  She hurried back to her car in confusion. It had been years since a man wound her up so suddenly and so intensely, and now she needed a diversion to calm her down.

  It was only a short drive into the town centre. She followed a black Ford into a broad, cobbled market square with an ancient town hall looming in one corner. On this Wednesday lunchtime the square was full of parked cars. She found a space, turned off the engine, and stepped out of her Beetle in search of fuel for herself now. A variety of shops and several pubs lay along either side of the square. She glanced curiously towards the Ford she had followed, and saw a thin young woman emerge dressed in a black ankle-length skirt topped by a tight-fitting black jacket over a high-necked white blouse. Her dark hair was combed tightly back from her forehead and gathered into a severe bun at the nape of her neck. Small steel-rimmed spectacles made her features seem austere as she glanced at Ruth, her face registering no reaction as she strode purposefully across the cobbles on flat-heeled black shoes, carrying a black briefcase.

  Ruth watched the prim yet authoritative girl vanish across the square. The grim black costume emphasised her slimness to an almost painful degree, and as she locked her car, she thanked nature for her own sensual curves. Crossing the cobbles, she speculated on what impression, if any, she had made on the girl. Had the other female admired the neat profile of an attractive young professional with a good figure and expertly styled hair the colour of polished teak? Had she approved of the trim grey skirt carefully hemmed above the knee, the crisp white blouse and smart black court shoes? Had she seen a young woman in her prime dedicated to her career and full of a passion for life?

  Ruth glanced over her shoulder yet again. The girl had sparked off a curious reaction in her, not as potent as the rampant carnal desire stirred up by the enigmatic Jack, but definitely disturbing. Suddenly, she wondered what it was about this town that made her feel so curiously emotional and exposed.

  She headed towards a promising looking pub occupying a prominent corner site, slightly annoyed with herself for permitting her carefully cultured equanimity to fall into disarray. Thus preoccupied, she reached the pub and responded to the notice directing patrons seeking food to use the side entrance. She turned the corner, and walked straight into a woman coming the other way. She stumbled, turned around to apologise as she regained her footing, opened her mouth to speak at the exact moment the other woman did, and they both uttered the same exclamation, ‘You!’

  For a moment time was suspended, and then both spoke at once again. ‘What are you doing here?!’

  ‘I’m looking for some lunch,’ Ruth was the first to reply. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I live here,’ Elsa said. ‘Well, near enough, and I’ll join you, if I may, but not here. There’s a much better place further down called The Fox. It’s where the farmers go on market day.’ She immediately took charge, leading the way. ‘It’s so good to see you again, Ruth. Why didn’t you write to me?’

  ‘I did write, but you didn’t reply.’

  ‘All my letters to you were returned. I wrote to your digs, and the shop in Exeter.’

  ‘I was headhunted,’ Ruth explained. ‘The shop closed, but Mrs Shaw promised to send the letters on to me.’

  ‘And I was in the States for six months. Some of my post must have got mislaid. You know how my mother is for losing things.’

  ‘And now we meet again, here of all places.’ Ruth followed Elsa into a small public house. The bar was compact, opening into a bigger room through an archway. The floor was tiled, the ceiling had dark exposed beams, and the
seats looked comfortable. They walked through to the back room, which was empty except for two farmer-types engaged in an earnest discussion. The menu was chalked up on a blackboard, and Ruth eased herself onto a settle bench set against the wall, studying it.

  ‘What’ll you have?’ Elsa enquired from across the table.

  ‘I’ll have the Ploughman’s lunch and something inert to drink. I’ve a long drive ahead of me.’

  ‘A drive where?’

  ‘London. I work for Greaves.’

  Elsa gave her a respectful look. ‘So you’ll have been to Broughton Chase? I heard Greaves had the Quincy sale.’

  ‘That’s right, I’ve been writing up the picture catalogue.’

  ‘So you did specialise.’

  ‘Yes. What about you, Elsa? What have you been up to all this time?’

  ‘I’m in partnership with a gentleman named Morgan. We do restorations and reproductions. We live together near here.’

  They ordered food and continued exchanging news, barely interrupting the flow of their conversation to eat.

  ‘What of your mother?’ Elsa asked.

  ‘She just left for New Zealand. She has some commissions, and a six-month lecture tour there. Father’s gone with her.’

  ‘Impressive. She’s still dancing, then?’

  ‘No, she does choreography now.’

  ‘And your sister?’

  ‘Rebecca works in Strasbourg as a translator.’

  ‘And do you have a boyfriend?’ Elsa’s curiosity was pleasantly relentless.

  ‘Sort of, this guy Stanford. He lives in the city and is part of his family’s firm. We go out together every now and then, but it’s nothing serious, really. Our careers come first for both of us.’

  ‘But you are getting your due diet of oats?’ Elsa teased.

  Ruth blushed. College was a distant memory, and she had been away from Elsa so long that her friend’s frankness seemed curiously alien. ‘Enough,’ she replied, ‘though not as often as I used to.’

  Elsa laughed, her eyes flashing mischievously. ‘Oh yes, I remember the night Rebecca took us to that fetish club. Let me freshen your drink.’ Forestalling Ruth’s protest, she got up and strode through to the bar, her high-heels clicking efficiently on the tiles.

  Ruth watched her with amusement. Elsa had always been assertive, and not much had changed. She had kept her figure, too; the stretch jeans clung tightly to her shapely bottom. She licked her lips, reacting to an unexpected flush of warmth between her thighs. Theirs was a close friendship, but it had never been intimate, and her physical response now disturbed her. Feeling almost guilty, she glanced around the room. A dartboard hung on one wall opposite a board pinned with notices, and as she casually perused them, a phrase caught her eye.

  Elsa set their drinks down on the table.

  ‘What’s that about a Slave Auction?’ Ruth asked.

  Elsa laughed. ‘Oh that. It’s one of those passing fads, very popular among the young farmers. They sell their time to each other. You know, “buy me for two hours to muck out your pig parlour”, and the money goes to charity. It’s just an excuse for a booze up.’

  ‘Oh, is that all?’

  Elsa gave her friend a knowing look. ‘You thought it was something hot,’ she accused. ‘It’s turned you on, hasn’t it?’

  ‘No,’ Ruth protested weakly. ‘I was just curious. There aren’t many farms in London.’

  ‘Don’t give me that, you’re all hot about it. You are, aren’t you? Admit it.’

  Ruth blushed as she secretly admitted the truth to herself, and she could swear her old college mate was taking special delight in her discomfort.

  ‘Just imagine being a sex slave,’ Elsa pursued the subject quietly, holding her eyes. ‘Imagine handing your body over to someone and giving them complete power over you, relinquishing all control and allowing them unlimited access to your every secret place. That must be the ultimate sexual kick, don’t you think?’

  Ruth felt a knot form in her belly and her chest tightened as her heart pounded. A powerful flutter of sensation passed through her pussy, and her nipples tightened against her bra. ‘It might be fun as a game,’ she replied guardedly.

  ‘Yes, games are fun, but imagine being someone’s slave for real, and for always. It would be like a mediaeval marriage, but even more intense.’

  Ruth looked deeply into her friend’s eyes. ‘Games like that are commonplace, but the idea of really being someone’s slave is too farfetched, too improbable. It can’t really happen these days.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Elsa replied mysteriously.

  Ruth swallowed hard, and for the first time in months she felt a sudden, irresistible yearning to masturbate. ‘What do you mean?’ The question burst forth, denying her rational reticence.

  ‘You’re right, you can play games anywhere.’

  ‘Not anywhere, Elsa, not here, for instance.’

  ‘That sounds like a challenge, Ruth.’

  ‘Perhaps it is.’

  Elsa smiled, and rummaged in her purse, from which she extracted a crumpled plastic supermarket bag. ‘Go to the ladies’ room,’ she instructed, ‘take off your tights, your panties and your bra, put them all in the bag, and bring it back to me.’

  ‘You’re joking,’ Ruth gasped under her breath.

  ‘And you’re not serious about your challenge. Try me. If I’m joking, I’ll call you back. If you’re serious, you’ll do it.’

  Ruth stared at her old friend, provoked by the light in Elsa’s eyes. It was good to meet again and sit over lunch talking about past times and remembering all the fun they had shared. The cocktail of emotions churning inside her contained a sizeable measure of nostalgia; it would be good to rekindle the spirit of their past escapades.

  After all, it was only a game. She drained her glass, took the bag from Elsa with an expression of defiance, and walked self-consciously towards the bar.

  The half expected, half hoped for recall came before she had reached the archway. Thankfully, she spun around and slipped back into her seat.

  Elsa gripped her wrist. ‘One more thing, don’t use the loo,’ she whispered.

  Ruth wrested her hand free, got up again with her heart in her throat, and ignored the two farmers staring at her as she walked to the ladies’ room.

  When she returned to the table a few minutes later, a fresh drink awaited her. She slid back into her place, and coyly slipped the plastic bag under the table to her friend as she sipped from her replenished glass, futilely trying to hide behind it.

  Elsa smiled impishly, placed the bag on the table, and felt inside.

  ‘Not here!’ Ruth hissed.

  ‘Hmm, let’s see what we have here... a bra, panties, matching panties, how nice, and tights, still warm... delicious! Now tell me, how does it feel?’

  ‘I feel very conspicuous,’ Ruth admitted.

  ‘What, you don’t feel sexy, not even a little bit?’ Elsa goaded.

  ‘Well, yes,’ Ruth admitted. Although she was burning with shame, the truth was she felt gloriously sexy.

  Elsa smiled, and shoved the plastic bundle into her purse. ‘You can have these back later. Did you use the loo?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Open your legs, I want to check.’

  Ruth clamped her thighs tightly together, only to feel the tip of one of Elsa’s high-heels prising at her calves.

  ‘Open up,’ she insisted. ‘I shan’t let you go until I’ve checked.’

  Ruth tried to draw back, but the solid settle prevented any retreat. Elsa’s emphatic foot wormed itself purposefully between her knees, and touched her inner thighs.

  Very slowly, the sharp heel worked its way towards her crotch, wreaking havoc with Ruth’s already tattered equilibrium. The hard tip pressed gently against her mound, and she gasp
ed in alarm. ‘Cut it out, or you’ll have me wetting myself,’ she whispered desperately.

  Elsa’s smile deepened. ‘Really? Oh, how delicious.’ The tip of her heel carefully peeled her friend’s pussy open, parting the swollen labia.

  Ruth clung to the table’s edge as she tried to contain the pleasure welling up inside her. She sighed loudly and slumped against the bench, pushing her blossoming sex lips forward against the firm intrusion.

  ‘God, you’re a hot little bunny,’ Elsa murmured, ‘and obedient, too, an excellent start.’ She removed her teasing, tantalising heel abruptly. ‘Now finish your drink.’

  Ruth did so in four long draughts, casting an anxious glance at the farmers. ‘You bitch, Elsa Fredericks!’ she whispered.

  ‘Come on, you enjoyed it, and so did they.’

  Ruth saw one of the men wink at her, and her face turned scarlet. ‘Give me my clothes, Elsa.’

  ‘Not until we get to your car. The game’s not over yet.’

  Ruth stared at her old friend; the chance to rekindle that vibrant friendship was too good to miss, and secretly she had to admit Elsa was right; so far she had enjoyed the game. Behaving outrageously, almost wantonly, was a potent aphrodisiac, and she realised her legs were still parted, as if her pussy was inviting more attention.

  ‘Another drink first?’ Elsa asked.

  ‘I’d better not. I’ve a long drive ahead of me, as I said. Look, we ought to get together soon, and properly. We can have dinner, or something.’

  ‘Of course, give me your number. I’ll ring you.’

  After the pub’s stuffy atmosphere, the air outside felt wonderfully fresh. A little breeze had sprung up that fluttered Ruth’s skirt, and the coolness teasing her naked pubes revived her prurience.

  Elsa waited while she unlocked the Beetle, and then kissed her on the lips with shameless passion. ‘Take care, Ruth,’ she purred. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  ‘I’d like my things back now, please,’ Ruth said, trying to calm herself.