Chapter 6

The M11 stretched away northwards to Thetford and Norwich, but Susie hardly saw the countryside as it thrummed past the window. Spring was fully sprung, and it would have been a glorious sight if she’d been paying attention, but her mind was fully occupied, her mood a strange mixture of emotions.

Sophie had gone again. Finding the situation with Hugh all too familiar and unbearable, a feeling made worse by her shame at having been caught out by her elder sister, she’d left home once more, this time on good terms with her family, this time going back to university where she belonged.

‘She can’t get into much trouble there,’ Susie reassured her mother, although in her opinion modern university students were a bunch of drug-ridden piss-heads who do far worse things to each other in the name of enlightenment and fun than the New Believers could have dreamt of, and Sophie’s moral well-being was in greater danger at university than if she’d taken up a career as a stripping prostitute who did lap-dancing on the side.

But that was the least of her worries.

After that, with her mother safely out of the house, Susie phoned the office and had a half-hour argument with the editor about bloody Hugh, of all people, as she tried to persuade him to fire the scumbag or at the very least keep the two of them apart. Neither option appealed to the editor.

‘Look, I know you two have a bit of history, but you’re both grown adults and you have to figure it out between yourselves,’ he said, in his best paternal and understanding voice. ‘You’re the best at what you do and he’s the best at what he does. There’s bound to be a little rivalry, but I want my best people on the top stories, so you will be working together most of the time.’

‘But boss, he’s a real creep,’ she objected, feeling the anger rise in her chest and the temperature in her knickers climbing as well. ‘I can’t stand being around him,’ she lied, for the truth was that it was the thought of being around him that she couldn’t stand. Susie knew that when she and Hugh were face to face her resistance would melt and so would her panties, and that was what was making her angry.

‘Look, you don’t have to marry the guy, just live with him.’

‘Do what?’

‘Didn’t they tell you?’

‘Tell me what?’

‘Sorry, I thought you’d called because you didn’t want to work with him on this next job.’

‘What job?’

‘You don’t know?’

‘You’re right, I don’t.’

‘He didn’t tell you?’

‘No, he didn’t tell me.’ In fact, Hugh had hardly been able to speak last time she’d seen him. After whipping her to a near frenzy with his leather cane he’d mounted her ferociously, still bent over on her knees, and thrust vigorously into her pussy till she thought it would burst. But instead he had, hosing her insides with burst after burst of molten semen while she screamed and gasped and moaned as she came again as well. But as Hugh fell exhausted, Susie rose shakily to her feet and left without speaking, mostly because she was too embarrassed and ashamed and didn’t know what to say.

‘The office didn’t tell you?’ The editor interrupted her thoughts, which was just as well, since they’d started a hot wetness between her legs.

‘I didn’t call the office. I called you.’

‘Ah, I see.’ Realising for the first time that he was telling Susie something she didn’t know, the editor plunged manfully on. ‘Well, look, there’s a job in Norfolk, a wife swapping club. We need to get inside it and the only way we can do that is by joining it, and the only way we can join it is if you and Hugh go up there, rent a house and pretend to be married.’

‘Pretend to be what?’

‘Look, you heard what I said.’

‘But wife swapping - it’s hardly the sort of thing you want to put on page seven, still less use your best people for. I thought you wanted to save them for the top stories.’ There was more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice and it was at least partially justified.

‘True,’ he agreed, admitting the point, ‘it’s not normally the sort of thing we’d bother with, but this is interesting because the informant says it involves at least one well known figure of the local community, maybe more.’

‘They all say that.’ Which was true.

‘Yes, I know they do, but we believe this one.’

‘Like hell.’

‘All right, Susie, I’ll be honest with you. Hugh doesn’t know this and you can’t tell him, but it could make page one.’

‘Who is it?’ Susie knew that if a little bit of Hicksville hanky-panky was on the front page then there had to be a national figure involved.

‘I can’t say, but it’s big.’

‘Isn’t it always.’ She was half-convinced now, and again she was fighting her own feelings, battling against the half of her that had suddenly thrilled with excitement at the thought of going to live with Hugh, posing as man and wife, sharing a bedroom... the moistness in her knickers was almost irresistible, but only almost.

‘We don’t get on,’ she made herself say, hoping the editor would continue to argue.

‘You don’t have to like the bloke, just pretend. Fucking hell, Susie, you don’t even have to sleep with him. The whole object of swinging is to sleep with someone else, for crying out loud.’

Or being made to sleep with someone else because Hugh tells her to, her guilty body sang, as her free hand searched under her skirt, seeking out the warm wetness that seeped into her knickers. ‘Well, send someone else,’ her conscious mind insisted.

‘I can’t send someone else; it’s too important and I need the best. And you’re the best at... at... well, you know what you’re the best at.’

She knew indeed, and she was very good at it with Hugh, said her innermost voice as the bubbling rebellion in her panties continued beneath fingertips that were wet and warm themselves now, finding the pliable flesh beneath, spreading and pushing inwards. ‘Well, send another techie, then,’ she countered righteously, already knowing what the answer would be, and knowing she was only putting up token arguments for form’s sake.

‘But I keep telling you, he’s good. He’s the best. And right now I need the best on this job. That’s him. Hugh must be there. Think about all his work on the football story. He’s an expert at hiding cameras and operating them ‘live’ to produce a result. I need him there, Susie, he has to go.’

The damp gusset of her knickers seethed with wet enthusiasm. ‘But, boss,’ she protested feebly, ‘if you get him to set it up for me, even I can do that much.’ It was her weakest argument yet, and she knew it.

‘You’re forgetting this is wife swapping. You need a husband so he can swap you around with the other guys.’

Susie’s fingers pulled the wet material aside and she let one of them slide into her waiting body, imagining it was some other guy, some complete stranger Hugh had given her to, someone to whom she had submitted willingly, eagerly. ‘I bet they let single girls in. They always do.’ Her voice was thick with emotion.

‘But this is different. Thing is, the way we got into this was through a local camera club. That’s where they, well, recruit new members.’ He sniggered at his own witticism. ‘Not only do they make contact with them there, suss them out and so on, but they also test them, make sure they’re right.’

‘Test them?’ Susie sounded incredulous, and no wonder. For most swapping clubs the only test to pass is turning up at the right place at the right time.

‘I know, I know. But we got this from a woman - of course - who told us the whole story and we believe it. This is a completely male dominated group, with strict rules.’ Easing another finger in alongside the first, Susie thought she quite liked the sound of strict rules. ‘They require women to be brought into the circle by a man, who offers her to the group. Her opinion on the subject apparently matters very little, and the women are always treated like objects and told nothing of importance.’

‘Hmm...’ Luckily the editor interpreted her sigh of arousal as a sigh of contemplation while she pondered his point, and carried on talking, giving her a chance to straighten her buckling knees and lean against the wall for support, placing her feet slightly apart and pushing her fingers deeper and deeper.

‘You realise what this means, do you?’ he asked, and she sighed again as the thrusting knuckles rubbed and spread her soft lips. ‘What this means is that any information we get will have to be gleaned by a man - by Hugh, who’s the ideal choice because he will also be able to use his particular skills with hidden cameras in order to get us the pictures we need to stand the story up.’

Susie slid down the wall, and was sitting with her feet apart and knees drawn up while her wrist and fingers pumped in and out. ‘S-sounds like it could take w-weeks,’ she said feebly, the breath catching in her throat.

‘Weeks and weeks,’ he confirmed. ‘Months even.’ Pushing her fingers faster and deeper she gasped at the thought of it, which the editor luckily took for a noise of dismay. ‘Look Susie, that’s the job, bottom line, take it or leave it.’

She loved it when he got stern like that, and felt the muscles in her tummy tighten and squeeze as her thighs clamped together, trapping her hand. She gasped, feeling the hot wet tunnel gripping and releasing her fingers over and over again.

‘I know you’re upset about it, but it’s got to be done.’

She moaned softly, still unable to utter any articulate words.

‘There’s nothing else on the desk right now,’ he added ominously.

‘O-okay.’ Relieved, she told herself she’d tried her best and that she did not have a choice. But deep down inside she knew she’d put up only token resistance and there was always a choice.

And even deeper down, she knew she was only there because she wanted to be. Right now ‘there’ was the M11 two days later, on her way to the house in Norwich that Hugh had rented for them, with anger in her heart and - and this is why she was so angry - a fire burning in her knickers. Whenever she thought about Hugh she felt that way even though she disliked him intensely. And although she knew in her heart she should not, she still found him strangely compelling, and she found that very compulsion arousing. When Hugh looked at her in a certain way, and spoke to her in a certain way, with that tone in his voice and that look in his eye, her knees turned to jelly - and so did her knickers. In fact just thinking about it made her wet, and she squirmed in the seat. The effect in her panties was amplified by the fact that she knew she shouldn’t feel that way, knew she shouldn’t respond and definitely knew she shouldn’t let him get to her. But he did, and what was worse, her conscious loathing of him produced the same familiar response between her legs that had got her into trouble so many times before, so she was trapped whichever way she turned.

So now, like a rabbit mesmerised by a stoat, she was on her way to join him. On her way, she thought as her heart jumped and her knickers moistened, to do as she was told. Whatever that may be.

The Norwich signposts came up swiftly, and she found it easy enough to circle the ring road and find the quiet suburb where Hugh had set up a house for them to live. It was just an everyday semi, with a small front garden and a drive that was full up with Hugh’s car. So she parked in the road and struggled with her own cases, trying to ignore the simmering sexual tension, trying not to be excited or nervous about being with Hugh. He’d been there for a while now, which was why he’d been away from home so much. He’d been there most of the time, setting up the house on behalf of an absent wife who was soon to join him, drinking in the local pubs, establishing a bit of history and generally becoming part of the local community - and becoming a member of the local camera club.

‘I’ve been to three or four meetings now,’ he told her as they sat in the small kitchen with coffee, while he brought her up to speed on the background. ‘Last one was last night, as it happens.’

‘How did it go?’ she asked, growing calmer as she began to concentrate on work.

‘Well, the first time they all just talked cameras and photographed trees. Bit of a waste of time, really, and I thought I’d come to the wrong place. But it must have been some sort of probation period or something, because the second time was better. They had a “swimsuit” model that one of the blokes brought along, nice but nothing special, except she finally got her tits out. They liked that.’

‘Suppose it made a change from landscapes and bowls of fruit,’ Susie put in.

‘Then the third one I knew was going to be different, because it was only a few people. There’s about fifty or sixty members and about fifteen or so at any meeting, but this time they had the meeting at someone’s house instead of the church hall, and only a few people were invited.’

‘Including you?’

‘Including me.’

‘So what makes you so special so quickly?’

‘Well, I told them I was more interested in video, really, and I let them know I had a fairly big collection - ’

‘You haven’t shown them anything of me, I hope,’ Susie interrupted like a flash.

Hugh sighed a long-suffering sigh. ‘I’m not stupid.’

‘Good.’

‘No, I just let them see a few minutes of something I did with an old girlfriend.’

‘Not - ’

‘No, not Sophie.’ It was his turn to interrupt. ‘I said I’m not stupid, and I’m not.’ The similarity between the two girls was close; on video Sophie could easily be mistaken for Susie, and Hugh was astute enough to guard against such a mistake raising suspicions.

‘Oh,’ she said archly, annoyed at the sudden surge of jealous anger that matched the warm flush of arousal for intensity, ‘so who was it, then?’

‘Helen James, actually,’ he said, with a gloating smile.

‘You’re joking!’

‘No,’ he said, smug as a cat with two bowls of cream, and why not? Helen James, aka The Fridge, the most famous virgin of the sixth form, was reputed to be so pure it had healed up! Never been kissed - never mind touched, or anything else.

‘But she...’ Susie was lost for words.

‘I know.’ He was so full of himself she thought he’d start polishing his nails on his shirt, the bastard. ‘She got pissed at a party one night and passed out. Some of the lads thought it would be a good joke to get a camera and take her picture.’ He shrugged as if trying to indicate that he was not one of the lads and didn’t think it a good idea, but he couldn’t erase his giveaway smirk. ‘Several guys had their picture taken with her; a few of them pulled her skirt up and a couple had their hands in her knickers.’

‘That’s disgusting.’

Hugh nodded agreement, but his evil gloating was impossible to conceal. ‘Disgusting. Yes. And of course, it was all over school the next Monday. Poor girl was distraught, naturally.’

‘I can quite believe it,’ Susie said, who thought this all had a familiar ring to it.

‘So the guys offered to return the negatives to her.’ Susie raised her eyebrows, knowing there was more to come. ‘On certain conditions.’ His arrogant smile stretched right across his face, and she lifted one inquisitive eyebrow again. ‘That she let them do it again, while awake.’

‘You bastards.’

‘Not me, Susie, not me. I didn’t suggest it. Quite the reverse, in fact. I offered to get all the negatives back for her, without the need to let half-a-dozen grubby oiks into her knickers.’

‘How many?’

‘Well, um, I think there were eight in all,’ he said.

‘Eight?’ She pulled a face of disgust. ‘And just one knight in shining armour?’

‘Well, not completely shining,’ he admitted, though it was a boast more than anything else. ‘I did want something from her in return.’

‘You mean you wanted her to have it off with you as well?’

‘Not as well, exactly,’ he corrected. ‘Instead of. Better just one of me than all the other seven.’

She glared scornfully. ‘And how did you propose to get the negatives back for her?’

‘I’d never given them away,’ he said, ‘only the prints.’

‘Oh, you absolute bastard.’

‘I know,’ he said, trying to sound humble with his voice full of pride.

‘And she fell for it, the stupid girl.’

‘Oh yes,’ he said happily.

‘She let you... yuk!’

‘Not at all. It was very good, actually. She enjoyed it. Let’s face it, she was a different girl afterwards.’

Susie had left home around this time and didn’t know what became of The Fridge, but it sounded as if Hugh might actually have introduced a bit of pleasure into her life after all, the cheating scumbag. ‘And I suppose you kept the pictures, as usual.’

‘Oh no, I gave them back as promised,’ he said with mock sincerity. ‘What would I want them for? After all, I’d got a bloody good film by then.’

‘Oh, Hugh,’ said Susie, shaking her head, ‘you’re the absolute limit.’

‘I know,’ he said proudly, misinterpreting the comment against his moral fibre as a compliment. ‘Anyway, don’t complain; that’s what got me the invite to the special meeting,’ he went on, ‘so just you be grateful.’

‘So what happened, anyway?’ she asked, wanting to move on to the business in hand.

‘It was at a big house on the way to Kings Lynn, and it was a proper glamour session. Just soft porn, really.’

‘Oh, right up your street then,’ she said.

‘Oh yes,’ he said with relish. ‘The models are all amateurs, inexperienced, you know the sort of thing.’

Yes, Susie knew all right. It was right up Hugh’s street. ‘So how does it work?’ she asked.

‘The usual,’ he said, as if everyone else in the world spent their leisure time in the same creepy ways he did. Now she knew why he’d spent so much time in London as a teenager.

‘One of the members brings along a model, and we all take pictures of her.’

‘And then you have a nice cup of tea and drive her home to her mum,’ Susie finished sarcastically. ‘Anyway, what sort of pictures?’

‘Just lingerie, bit of topless, and some rather coy nudes. At least, that’s how it was the first time.

‘And after that?’

‘Last night was a bit different,’ he disclosed, the cheesy grin appearing once more.

‘How so?’

‘Everything, really. Except the place - it was the same house as the other times. But the atmosphere was different, like they were expecting something. And the girl was different, too, right from the start.’

‘What sort of different? Professional?’

‘Oh no, no, definitely not. Belinda, her name was, about your age, maybe a few years older, brunette, almost foreign looking, came with a bloke called Andrew, no introductions as such except her name and that she was our model for the evening, but I sort of got the impression she was his wife, or if not, then a very regular girlfriend.’

‘What made you think so?’

‘Oh, just the way they were together. Looking at each other at certain moments. Like she was constantly making sure he was okay with everything, or maybe as if they were just enjoying it together. But she wasn’t just someone he hired out of the yellow pages or somewhere.’

Susie nodded. It sounded as if Hugh didn’t miss much. ‘Go on,’ she encouraged.

‘And she wasn’t shy. She started off wearing much less, took it off fairly quickly, got her legs open almost at once.’ His eyes gleamed with zealous fervour as he recalled the images and paraded them before his mind’s eye. ‘And then a couple of the blokes started helping her into poses, but it was just an excuse to feel her up, the usual rigmarole.’

‘And she didn’t mind?’ asked Susie, who could feel the liquid evidence of precisely how much she would have enjoyed being in that situation seeping into her knickers.

‘No, she clearly loved it.’

‘And you still think she wasn’t professional?’

‘No. And I tell you what else about them, her and Andrew; he wanted them to touch her. He was the first one to start fiddling with her knickers, and he was the one who got the others on it as well, asking them to do it for him while he “framed his shot”, the soppy git.’ Hugh’s scorn for someone less skilled than himself in the photographic arts was genuine enough.

‘So he was giving the orders?’ Susie’s body pouted inside her knickers as she pictured herself reclining on a couch while several men took it in turns to grope her.

‘Oh no, nothing like that. He was just getting off on it. It was his wife, I’m sure it was, and he was getting his rocks off making her lie there while he got other blokes to feel her up, and took pictures while they were doing it.’

‘So what did Belinda do?’ asked Susie, knowing what she would have done.

‘She was on cloud nine as well. She kept looking at Andrew while these blokes were arranging her, and you could see she was getting off on it too. Next thing, hubby’s got someone helping her off with her knickers, and before you could say “open wide” she’s fingering herself like a mad thing. Not just posing, holding herself open, but diddling herself and shoving two fingers in, really enjoying it.’

‘And what about this Andrew bloke?’

‘Bright red in the face, could hardly speak he was having such a good time.’

Susie was having quite a good time herself, just imagining the whole scenario. ‘What then?’ she asked, hoping she didn’t sound too eager.

‘Then she made herself come, all gasping and heaving, and for a moment I thought Andrew was going to come as well. Funny thing, he wasn’t watching her, he was watching everybody else. He wasn’t even taking pictures of her, not like everyone else, all close-ups and details. He was doing big wide shots of all the blokes gathered round with their cameras.’

He did sound more and more like the husband, Susie thought, although she’d been fairly certain as soon as Hugh mentioned it.

‘And then, you’ll never believe this, then, while she’s still trying to get her breath back, and everyone else is shuffling their feet and looking at the carpet, bloody Andrew hands her a banana, and she went mad.’ Hugh was licking his lips greedily as he recalled the moment in detail, gripped by the eroticism of it all over again. ‘Fucked herself quite happily for a few minutes until it was of no more use, and then asked if anyone had anything harder.’

‘And?’

‘She was nearly trampled in the rush,’ he said frankly.

‘Who rushed?’

‘Not Andrew, that’s for sure. He used countless rolls of film taking pictures of Belinda getting shagged bandy by half the camera club and loving every second of it.’

‘And you?’ asked Susie. ‘What did you do?’

‘Well, I took pictures as well. That’s my job.’

‘And what else is your job?’

Hugh’s smile was a picture of indescribable smugness. ‘That’s my job too,’ he said, ‘to join the club and gain their confidence. I thought it would look suspicious if I didn’t join in.’

‘Of course you did,’ she said, in as scornful a voice as she could manage, although it was difficult to be superior with him when her knickers were on fire just thinking about it all, let alone actually being there. ‘Stop the tape first, did you?’

‘I didn’t have a tape,’ he said. ‘Didn’t seem much point when I was taking perfect thirty-five mil of everything that happened.’

Fair comment, she thought, disappointed; it would have been nice to think of his bum bouncing up and down for a change when the lads sat down to watch on a Friday night. ‘All right, was she?’

Even Hugh had the good grace to blush slightly at the question and the memory.

‘What next, then?’ Susie didn’t wait for the answer. Not that she was jealous. Oh no.

‘We wait a few days.’

‘For what?’ She hated him, making her drag the information out instead of sharing it like he should have done.

‘On Thursday night I’m taking a “model” myself, a girl who works with me, who’s short of cash, and is prepared to do a bit of topless for a few quid - although I told them I think she’s a dirty cow and she’ll do a lot more if there’s a bit of cash on the table on the night.’

‘And who is this lucky young thing?’

‘You, of course,’ he leered.

‘Me?’ she tried to sound surprised, but there was a flash flood in her knickers and her pulse rate doubled.

‘Yes, you,’ he confirmed confidently. ‘Who else?’

‘I’m supposed to be your wife, stupid.’

‘I know that.’

‘So?’

‘So I told them you’re a college girl who needs the money, but if we play it right and react well together they’ll think you’re my wife, and I like to see you with other blokes for a cheap thrill but I’m not saying so because I’m embarrassed.’

‘Like Andrew?’ It was clever, and bound to work. ‘That’s good, Hugh,’ she said grudgingly.

‘Yes, it is rather,’ he crowed, although it obviously wasn’t his own idea.

But the next double bluff he pulled was all his own work. Susie wanted to shower and unpack, so they had the argument about the sleeping arrangements next. Hugh finally gave in, and agreed that not many visitors would be going upstairs and therefore it wasn’t necessary for them to share a bedroom in order to maintain their deception. And since both bedrooms had double beds but only one had an en-suite bathroom and anything like a sensible lock, Hugh had already guessed that would be the one Susie chose, so he’d moved into the other and was now delighted to be proved right.

But more than his cleverness at guessing correctly prompted his delight.

In the few weeks he’d been there, he’d taken the precaution of wiring the house for sound and pictures, but though there were cameras in both downstairs rooms, he only had enough to do one bedroom properly, and allocated it according to his interpretation of what Susie would choose. That was why he was so pleased to have guessed right, and now he sat in his bedroom, which was also the master control room for his DIY closed-circuit system, ready to test it most thoroughly by filming Susie alone in the bigger bedroom.

He’d hoped to see her in her underwear, and perhaps naked. He had no idea how aroused she had been by their earlier conversation, nor how clearly she could picture Belinda with her knees raised, being solidly fucked by one stranger while another thrust his erect cock into her mouth, and perhaps another placed her hand around his thick shaft.

Hugh wasn’t able to see those thoughts on screen, nor even interpret them from the look on Susie’s face. But he was able to guess at them fairly accurately based on her behaviour.

There were several cameras in the bedroom, and Hugh was able to swivel and zoom all four of them. So he twirled the control wheel and gently steered the joystick until Susie filled the frame as she stood by the dressing table, stripping off her clothes. The lighting from the window was particularly good, so the tape was recording every detail of her naked body in pin-sharp detail.

There was another camera hidden in the light fitting above the shower, giving him an overhead view as she washed, and shaved herself carefully between her legs. Hugh made a mental note to find a waterproof camera he could hide inside the drain grating.

Patting herself dry with a large towel, Susie sat on the edge of the bed. She was caught in a crossfire of four cameras now, and Hugh was particularly proud of the two incorporated in the design of the knurled cast-iron bed frame, one in each of the posts at the foot of the bed.

Adjusting one of them now, he had a perfect frontal shot as Susie dried her legs, then her thighs, and then high up between them. She let her fingers stroke and caress as she checked her shaving for smoothness, and then she let them dip into the simmering wetness.

As she lay back on the bed Hugh was looking at a choice of four images of her, and all four were award-winning stuff. The first, from a camera above her in the ceiling, picked out the detail of her hard nipples, her slowly widening thighs and the patch of blonde curls that skimmed the pretty curve of her pubic mound. On the wall directly opposite the foot of the bed was another, concealed in the patterned cornice. On full zoom it was looking right between her legs, filling the screen with an intimate close-up as she trailed her fingertips lightly up and down, making a deep, inviting furrow in the glistening wet pinkness.

One bedpost camera was also on full zoom, watching carefully as the fingers spread and separated, delving deeper, digging into the warm welcome of her body, soft squelching and sucking noises as pin-sharp on the audio as the pictures were on video.

The camera on the other bedpost was slightly wider, framing the centre section of her body as one hand squeezed her full, firm breasts and plucked at the nipples with sharp movements, and the other hand...

Oh, the other hand!

Hugh flicked back to the wall camera, swiftly zooming out to see the big picture as Susie reached out to the bedside cabinet. He zoomed in on her hand to see what - only a hairbrush!

Tutting in disappointment that she wasn’t going to continue with what she’d been doing, he was about to stop the tapes when he saw that her hand was not lifting, she wasn’t raising the brush to her head, but lowering it to her lap. He followed her, medium shot, hairbrush, hand and lower arm all in frame as she reversed her grip and ran the blunted wooden handle up and down between the puffy wet folds of flesh and then slowly applied more pressure, making it sink deeper and deeper. She made a little sighing noise as the snout found its way past the soft lips and spread the tight opening of her pussy.

She sighed again as the dark wooden shaft sank slowly deeper, until it could go no further.

She sighed again as it slid out, shining wet with her juices.

She sighed more loudly as she pushed it in again, faster and harder.

Hugh stared intently, hands dancing over the control panel as he selected camera after camera, close-up after close-up, watching the neat pink lips sliding wetly up and down the dark wooden shaft until Susie’s hips lifted from the bed, the muscles in her stomach gripped and tightened and she jerked, then slumped back onto the bed.

Hugh was delighted with the quality and technical versatility of his set up. It was crystal clear, pin-sharp, easy to use, quick to operate and gave wonderful results. Whoever joined Susie in the bedroom, whether he was a fat sweaty amateur pornographer or the local MP with whips, spurs and blindfolds, whoever it was, Hugh would have him bang to rights. Another job well done, he thought, giving himself a well-deserved mental pat on the back.

And another fine tape of Susie to add to the collection, as well.

He was just going to stop recording and label the cassette when she started to move, so slowly at first he wasn’t sure if he was imagining it. She’d been motionless since her orgasm and the handle of the hairbrush was still inside her, and he thought she was beginning to rock just a little, thought her knees were beginning to lift and her wrist just flexing ever so slightly.

The soft, sucking wetness on the audio channel was what confirmed it for him, and he leant over the control panel again, zooming one bedpost camera between her thighs for a detailed close-up and setting the other so it filled the screen with her face. It would be nice to capture her expression at the moment of orgasm, he thought.

That would put the price up when he came to sell copies on Friday nights, but it was the thought of all those grubby printers seeing her so exposed and revealed when they watched her face as she played with herself that Hugh liked best. It was making her so vulnerable that really made him hard. He unzipped himself as the hairbrush started to move in a wide circle and her hips began to rock in a lazy, luxurious rhythm. He could easily manage the controls with one hand.