Persephone Nine
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One For The Team - Chapter Nine free porn video
May 1986
In the interview room at Scotland Yard Robert Fellows looked pale and
tired and he was still wearing the clothes in which he had been
arrested, minus his belt and shoelaces. His brief, a barrister paid for
by Robert's father looked remarkably composed in his Carnaby Street
pin-striped suit. He was rake-thin and effused confidence.
Archie and Sandra got through the preliminaries, stating the date and
time and identifying who was present in the interview room and issued
Robert another caution. They had coffee and water bought in for
everyone and then it was time to begin.
Archie and Sandra had reviewed all the evidence, working late in the
night and after considerable discussion had finally agreed on a
strategy. They would go all-in.
Sandra made a theatre of it, laying down the exhibits slowly and
carefully one at a time. Archie began.
"Before we begin, I will tell you that you are being questioned in
relation to the matter of the death of Charles Ward, also known as
Charlotte Ward. In deference to the deceased it is our intention to use
the name Charlotte Ward as she was identifying as her feminine self
when she died.
"On the table before you my colleague has laid out the evidence we
have, which we intend to provide to the Crown Prosecution Service."
Archie waved his hands over the exhibits.
"First off I'd like to summarise your statement to us when we
interviewed you. You claim that Charlotte Ward offered you regular oral
services, which you accepted. But after a while you realised that what
you were doing was quite inappropriate because you are engaged to be
married and you stopped engaging in that activity a year ago."
"You implied that your relationship with Charlotte was nothing more
than a casual fling."
"I'll now point out each of these exhibits and explain their
relevance."
"This exhibit contains a postcard from the Ambassador Guest House at
Brighton, the words 'a week to remember... I think I love Robert' are
written on the obverse, it was found in Charles Ward's dormitory.
Beside it are a registration card and a copy of the guest register
taken from the Ambassador Guest House which proves that you spent a
week there with Charlotte Ward and shared the same room."
The barrister was about to interject but Archie shut him down.
"You may consult with your client when I ask him a question, until then
please remain silent sir." Archie continued identifying the evidence on
the table.
"These documents are excerpts from our interviews with Wayne Jenkins
and William Larkin also known as Wendy Larkin who claim that you had a
long term intimate relationship with Charlotte Ward."
"These documents confirm that the latent fingerprints found on the
kitchen counter of the cottage and on the door to the bedroom where she
was found belong to you. This one confirms that the fingerprints found
on Charlotte's neck matches the exemplars taken from you."
"This document here confirms that the skin and blood samples taken from
you by the Scene Of Crime Officers match the samples taken from
underneath Charlotte Ward's fingernails."
Archie took a beat to let the consequences of all the evidence on the
table sink in.
"You were obviously lying to police about the extent of your
relationship with Charlotte Ward and you lied when you said that you
had never been to the cottage where she was found. Now sir, would you
like to refute any on the evidence before you or provide an explanation
as to how this evidence does not point to your involvement of the
murder of Charlotte Ward." Archie couldn't help being pleased with
himself.
Robert and his brief whispered between themselves, both their voices
rising and becoming angrier.
"Despite my expert advice that he should remain silent, Mister Fellows
wishes to make a statement." The barrister shook his head solemnly.
Robert Fellows looked abject and defeated. He was close to tears.
"This is what happened that night," Robert began.
Five days earlier
In the early hours of the morning, after the party was over, Charlotte
sent the other girls back to their dorms while she emptied the laundry
baskets into plastic bin liners to be washed and dried later in the
day. She would strip the beds and remake them later. She went to her
bedroom and checked on her stash of cocaine and the wad of money she
had secreted in the wardrobe. She had made a tidy sum on the side
selling the drug.
Wendy had taken the cash from the liquor sales and the upfront fee that
the rugby team had paid for the use of the girls. She and Charlotte
would divide the profits later and give Pamela and Janet their share.
Charlotte was closing the wardrobe when she became aware of a presence
near the door. Had one of the team come back for a final shag? If so he
would be disappointed, Charlotte had had enough for one night. She was
half-drunk and coming down off her cocaine high.
"Well I'll be fucked. I thought you weren't coming to the party." She
sneered at Robert Fellows.
"You're a bit late but I'll throw you a sympathy fuck if you don't mind
going sloppy seconds. Well that's sloppy third, fourth or fifth; I've
had so many cocks inside me tonight that I can hardly remember." She
smirked at him.
Robert was drunk and belligerent and he studied his ex-girlfriend with
distain. Gone was the cute pixie bob. She was wearing a black,
shoulder-length wig styled with a fringe that rested on her brows. Her
makeup was heavy but her mascara and eyeliner had run and her lipstick
was smeared around her mouth.
Her cerise satin blouse and black leather miniskirt were creased and
stained with booze and dried semen. Her legs were sheathed in laddered
fully-fashioned flesh-toned stockings and her feet shod in black
stiletto high heels. She looked exactly like the whore she had become.
"How could you have come to this Charlotte? You're a whore with no
self-respect." He leaned against the doorframe, a bottle of ale
dangling from his fingers.
"But I won't always be a whore Robert. This is just a means to an end.
After my gender reassignment I'll get a new identity, move far away
from London and get a decent job." Charlotte leaned against the
wardrobe.
"But this! This is so demeaning. I have to listen to the lads talk
about what goes on in this filthy rat-hole and it disgusts me." He
brought the bottle to his lips and took a slug.
Charlotte put out her hand and Robert passed her the bottle. She took a
sip and smiled at him.
"Let me tell you fairy story Robert." She took another drink.
"I don't have time for your ramblings Charlotte; I'm going." He made to
turn away and Charlotte moved into him.
"No! Listen! Listen to my bedtime story and you will sleep so much
better." Her face was inches from his.
"There was once a na?ve young princess, except she didn't know she was
a princess, she thought she was a hag. Her parents told her she was a
hag and sent her away to a cold dark castle to work as a dreary
domestic where she would learn how to improve herself because she was
worthless." Charlotte stopped to take a sip from the bottle and then
continued.
"A handsome evil prince trapped the princess and made her service him
and his friends; they demeaned her and used her as their slattern. But
the evil prince discovered that he wasn't really evil, he had
compassion for the slattern and he rescued her made her into a princess
again. The handsome prince worshipped his princess and kept her safe
and she felt loved."
"But the prince's father, the king, decreed that the prince should
marry another princess, a better princess, a real princess. The
princess he was with now had beguiled him; she was really a hag
pretending to be a princess. The handsome prince banished the hag and
told her that she wasn't a princess at all. She was nothing but a
slattern, a pretender, a worthless whore."
"So the na?ve young princess hardened her heart and became the hag, the
slattern and the whore. She did it so she could amass a golden casket
with which she could travel to another land and once again transform
into the princess she believed she was. She would be happy living far
away from the handsome evil prince, the evil king and her evil
parents."
"But her heart would be forever broken because no matter what he had
done to her, the na?ve young princess would always love the evil
prince." Charlotte was crying, tears ruining her already smudged
makeup.
Robert put his hands on Charlotte's shoulders and held her away from
him.
"I'm sorry Charlotte but we could never be together; it just wouldn't
work. You know that." Robert sighed.
"I loved you Robert. I know we never used those words while we together
but I'm sure it was love. Was I wrong?" she implored him.
Robert pulled her into his arms and held her close.
"If there was some way for us to be together, yes... but it's
impossible Charlotte." Robert kissed her hair.
She nuzzled his neck and he turned her face to his and bought his lips
to hers. They kissed. The kiss was soft and affectionate and then
Charlotte slipped her tongue into Robert's mouth and kiss became
passionate and needy.
Robert guided Charlotte towards the bed and she lay down for him. He
lay on top of her kissing her hard, tearing at her clothes. She ripped
open his shirt and tugged at his belt buckle, she unzipped his fly and
pushed his jeans down to his knees. Her blouse was open and Robert
pushed her bra out of the way and suckled her diminutive breasts. She
found him hard and dripping and she stroked him to full tumescence.
Robert moved his mouth back to hers and kissed her fervidly as she
opened her legs wide for him. He pushed up her skirt, moved aside the
gusset of her knickers and slid himself inside her.
"Oh god Robert," she sobbed and wrapped her arms and legs around him.
He was impatient and insistent. He had longed to be inside her again
for so long. He missed the feel of her tight anus gripping his cock
like a slick silken glove, the way she had of contracting her sphincter
and the membranes inside her anus that evoked extreme pleasure. Her
fingernails scratched his back and her silken-clad legs rubbed against
his tender flesh increasing his gratification.
Charlotte rose to meet his thrusts and Robert could feel that she was
hard inside her cum-soaked knickers, she was deliberately pressing
herself against his belly to maximise her own pleasure.
She kissed him desperately, mewing and crying as she clung to him and
writhed beneath him.
"I love you Robert," she sighed and he felt her orgasm.
Her anus contracted and quivered and a warm wet puddle oozed through
her panties and smeared his hard belly. She bit his lip and drummed her
heels on his back as she convulsed in a paroxysm of lust and pleasure.
Robert pressed her down on the bed and drove himself deep inside her
and erupted, his cock quivering as he unloaded his seed.
"Say it Robert! Say it!" she pleaded.
"I love you Charlotte. God help me, I love you," Robert screamed.
Robert lay on top of her exhausted as he came down from his orgasmic
high. Charlotte lay still beneath him, her arms by her side and legs
wide open. They said nothing for what seemed like an eternity.
Then Charlotte started to laugh.
It started as a soft chuckle and built to a full on cackle.
Robert was bemused. He looked at her confused.
"You romantic fool! How do you think Rebecca Delaney is going to feel
knowing her future husband was not only fucking a transvestite whore,
but he told her he loved her." Charlotte's emerald green eyes were
cold.
"Do I send her a letter or do I tell her face to face? I probably won't
do it soon. I'll wait until you're married and I've transitioned, it
will be more believable then."
"'Hey Becky, you'll never guess what happened while your husband and I
were in college?' I can see the look on her face now."
"The thing I will nurture is that you will never know when I'm going to
do it. You'll live with the threat like the sword of Damocles hanging
over your head waiting to fall." Charlotte made to get out from under
Robert but he kept her pinned to the bed.
"You really are a whore aren't you." Robert's eyes were cold; any love
he had for Charlotte had dissipated.
"No. I'm the na?ve young princess." She glared up at him.
Robert put his hands around Charlotte's neck and squeezed. At first she
didn't struggle she just looked up at him with her vacant green eyes.
They were soulless; she had no fear.
Robert squeezed harder and Charlotte's face began to bloat and become
red, her tongue swelled and her ears began to ring. She finally began
to struggle. She raised her hands and tried to break Robert's grip on
her neck, scratching at his hands with her long fingernails.
Then her vision began to blur and finally blackness overcame her and
she lay still, her arms fell to her sides.
Robert leapt off her, his anger replaced by fear. He realised what he'd
done. If he was caught his life would be over. Robert quickly dressed
and looked around the bedroom to see if he'd left anything that would
incriminate him. He noticed the beer bottle he had brought with him and
snatched it up. He took one quick turn around the cottage and left.
Halfway up the pathway he stopped and vomited. He wiped his mouth on
his sleeve and hurried back to his dorm.
*****
May 1986
"Are you admitting that you strangled Charlotte Ward to death?" Archie
asked bluntly.
"I am." Robert put his arms on the table and lowered his head onto them
and began to sob.
"Interview suspended while the subject consults with his legal counsel
and police draft a statement for the subject to sign, after which
Robert Fellows will be formally charged with the murder of Charles
Ward, also known as Charlotte Ward." Archie could barely keep the
triumph out of his voice.
*****
Archie and Sandra were the heroes of the hour. They had solved the case
and there was undoubtedly some schadenfreude at seeing a rich,
entitled, toff brought down. Archie and Sandra knew from their
investigation that Charlotte had been no angel but she had been poorly
treated by almost everyone who should have loved her. Robert's ever-
changing emotions and treatment of her: first using her for sex and
sharing her with his friends, then showing her acceptance and love
followed by a complete turnaround when he cast her aside and derided
her, must have been crushing for Charlotte.
They celebrated at the Trunk and Brick pub, the Scotland Yard local.
Most of the Special Crimes Division attended the celebration and Glenda
Savage led the conviviality and she had her beau Ruffe Ingersoll with
her. Many drinks were consumed but Archie and Sandra moderated their
intake, they would have their own special celebration later.
Archie went to use the toilet and was waylaid by Ruffe Ingersoll in the
back corridor of the pub.
"So Archie, the story is that a rich university student at a private
boarding school killed another rich university student. That's enough
to tickle my readers fancy but there must be more to it. What was the
motive?" Ruffe offered Archie a cigarette which he declined.
"Nothing more to see Ruffe. Anyway, you know I can't discuss the
details of the case; you'll have to wait for the trial for all the
dirty secrets to be revealed," Archie replied.
"That college is shut up like a clam; no one is talking and Chelmsford
Police are more silent than Scotland Yard." Ruffe considered the
glowing tip of his cigarette.
"If there was nothing else to see other than two students falling out
and one killing the other there wouldn't be this veil of secrecy. Did
you know the college has requested a gag order and the Fellows family
have put pressure on the CPS for the trial to be held 'in-camera'?"
Ruffe wrinkled his brow.
"Looks like you're shit out of luck then Ruffe. The police aren't
talking, the students and faculty at Chelmsford college can't talk and
if the if the trial is held in-camera you'll never get to hear what
happened other than the facts released officially by the Chief
Constable." Archie squeezed past Ruffe and made his way back to the
throng.
Archie and Sandra were standing at separate tables surrounded by well-
wishers but they kept glancing furtively at each other and when they
considered everyone had drunk enough that their absence wouldn't be
noticed, they slipped away.
They took a minicab to Archie's new flat, kissing and canoodling in the
back during the journey.
Archie's flat was little more than a bedsit but it was neat and clean.
He turned on the floor lamp and went into the kitchenette to pour wine
and when he turned around Sandra had removed her dress and her
brassiere and let down her hair. She had worn makeup to the interview
and she looked lovely to Archie who always found her alluring.
She was not a fashion model by any means and she looked her age; years
pounding the beat, working late, eating bad, drinking too much and
smoking had taken their toll but she had a womanly figure and ethereal
beauty that entranced Archie.
He put down the drinks and took off his jacket and stepped into her,
kissing her softly. She mussed his hair affectionately as they kissed,
she could feel his hardness pressing into her but he was not impatient,
she always had that effect on Archie.
"Make love to me Archie. I want to feel loved, to feel needed," she
whispered.
Archie picked her up and carried her to the bed. She watched him
undress and opened her arms for him when he came to her naked and
rampant. They kissed and her fingers gently stroked him, feeling him
become fully erect. Archie stroked her breasts and toyed with her
nipples, smiling when she gasped with pleasure as he gently caressed
them. He was torn between using his mouth on her breasts or to keep
kissing her but she made the decision for him. She refused to break
their long lingering kiss.
Sandra slipped her tongue into his mouth and squeezed his cock,
delighting in the firmness of it, the heat, the girth, the manliness.
Archie put his hand between her legs and stroked her vulva through the
wispy translucent nylon; there were no granny-panties today. He parted
her labia and rubbed her until her knickers were soaked and she was
mewing and pressing her pubis into his hand.
She was ready.
Archie put his fingers inside her knickers and stroked her clitoris
whilst slipping two fingers inside her vagina. Sandra bucked and drove
her tongue into his mouth; she was forcefully directing his penis to
her sex. She had opened her legs and magnificent legs they were: long
and shapely and sheathed in silky sensuous hold up stockings. She still
wore her heels.
Archie relented and climbed onto her, resting on his elbows, his legs
between hers. Sandra wrapped her legs around his and moved them up and
down to encourage him, rising up off the bed, insistently grinding her
pubis into his.
"Put it in me," she whispered and Archie obliged.
Easing aside the gusset of her knickers he slid his throbbing cock into
her wet, buttery quim. Her legs closed around him and held him close so
that his movements were imperceptible. His quivering member was buried
inside the woman he loved and they kissed and held each other, hardly
moving, their pubis crushed together stimulating her clitoris while her
vagina palpitated around his quivering rod.
They lay like that, allowing their passion to rise in a slow burn,
feeling the pleasure spread through their bodies, made all the more
intense because they were hardly moving.
Finally Sandra began to whimper and shake and Archie sensed her climax,
it triggered his own and he held onto her like limpet, barely moving as
his penis erupted and ejaculated causing Sandra to writhe under him as
her orgasm intensified.
They lay sated, locked together, neither speaking, just content to be
in each other's embrace.
"I love you Archie. Always have, always will," Sandra whispered in his
ear.
"I've loved you since I first time I kissed you," Archie replied.
Nothing more was said. They enjoyed the silence.
Finally Archie rolled off Sandra and lay on his back studying the
ceiling and imagining a life together with Sandra.
"You know I never wanted to be with a policeman, but here I am. How is
that?" Sandra turned to face him.
"Convenience?" Archie replied.
He cringed when Sandra punched him in the arm.
This resulted in a wrestling match which quickly evolved into more love
making.
*****
Ruffe waited in The Plough public house near Chelmsford railway station
nursing a pint. He looked up when a large muscular man looking very
uncomfortable in a shabby suit entered the pub and looked around; he
had a carry-bag on one arm. Ruffe nodded at him and Douglas Quinn made
his way over to Ruffe's table, stopping at the bar to purchase two
pints.
Quinn put the pints down on the table and the carry-bag on the floor
and Ruffe stood up and shook his hand. They sat and quickly got down to
business.
"You know that you are subject to a court imposed gag order don't you?"
Ruffe turned on his pocket-sized tape recorder.
"Well when you've heard my story you can decide whether or not to print
it, I don't care if they put me away, I've done porridge before but I
doubt they will, it would be too embarrassing." Quinn took a long pull
on his pint.
"First off I want confirmation that you will give me the five hundred
pounds we agreed on."
"If the story is worth it Mister Quinn; absolutely," Ruffe reassured
him.
"Ok. Here we go," Quinn began his tale.
"I've always hated Francis Lister, the Headmaster of Chelmsford Private
College. He's a stuck up twat who has always looked down on me. He
treated the goundsmen and maintenance staff like shit and in the end he
fired them all and then re-hired them as contractors halving their
wages."
"When the coppers came and interviewed me I could have said a lot more
than I did but I kept schtum; I might be a mere labourer but I'm not
stupid. I don't think the CPS could charge me with lying to police but
they could certainly charge me with withholding or spoliation of
evidence. I'll take my chances."
Ruffe had heard and seen some astounding things during his time as an
investigative journalist but when Quinn told him about four
transvestite students effectively operating a brothel on the grounds of
the university he was quite astounded. Quinn made no mention of the
drug deals Charlotte was making on the side.
"On the night of the murder, or more correctly in the early morning
when the murder was committed I had been working as a bouncer to keep
order at the rugby team's piss-up. Everyone except Charlotte had left
and I was about to leave too when young Robert Fellows arrived at the
college and went inside so I stuck around and hid in the bushes. I was
too tired and too pissed to go home so I was going to sleep in my
office."
"Fellows was inside the cottage for a while and when he left he was
noticeably agitated; so agitated that he threw up. I waited until he
was well gone and was about to go into the cottage when then I saw that
cunt Francis Lister come down the path from the opposite direction. I
hid in the bushes again and waited."
"You'll want to give that to the police after you've printed your
story." Quinn nodded at the carry bag on the floor.
Ruffe picked the bag and looked inside. There appeared to be a liquor
bottle wrapped in a plastic bag.
Quinn told Ruffe what happened next.
*****
Five days earlier
Charlotte waited until she heard Robert leave the cottage before she
got up off the bed. She had blacked out and lost consciousness but she
had recovered just after Robert left the cottage.
"Fuck him! Now he really has something to worry about," she said; her
voice scratchy and her throat swollen and sore.
She got unsteadily to her feet and made her way to the bathroom where
she drank from the tap and rinsed out her mouth. She looked at herself
in the mirror. Her neck was bruising and her eyes were bloodshot but
other than that she felt well. She buttoned her blouse and washed her
face and then fixed her makeup.
"Almost as good as new." She smiled at herself in the mirror.
She went back to the bedroom and took her stash of cash from the
wardrobe and went into the lounge and poured herself a drink and lit a
cigarette. The liquor and the smoke burned her throat but she didn't
care. She put her feet up on the coffee table and was counting her
money when the door opened and a figure entered.
At first she thought it was Robert come back to see if she was alright
but when she saw who it was she smiled.
"What the fuck do you want headmaster? Very unlike you to come to my
club; in fact you've never been here. Is fucking me twice a week in my
dorm not enough for you?" Charlotte blew smoke in Francis Lister's
direction.
"Don't call me headmaster here please Charlotte." Francis stood at the
counter twiddling an empty vodka bottle.
"This place really is a shithole isn't it?" he looked around at the
detritus scattered around the lounge and kitchen.
There were half-empty spirit bottles, mixers, can and bottles of beer
and the packages they came in.
"We make do with what we have and you get your cut so it serves its
purpose." Charlotte sipped her drink.
"No one would ever believe that four transvestites are running a
brothel on the grounds of my university." He shook his head and
laughed.
"Well that works out fine for us all doesn't it?" Charlotte smiled
back.
"But they would believe that one of my students is dealing A-class
prohibited substances and that would be really bad. Bad for the school
and bad for me because the police would be all over the university
asking questions. A couple of trannies bonking the football team would
be considered harmless fun, no harm no foul, just another upper-class
sex scandal that would soon be forgotten." Francis spun the liquor
bottle on its base.
"But selling cocaine is hardly a little bit of weed is it; not in the
quantities you are selling it."
"Who says I'm selling." Charlotte fluttered the notes in her hand as if
she was riffling playing cards.
"It stops now Charlotte! That's final!" Francis crashed the vodka
bottle down on the counter to emphasise his point.
"No it doesn't. You're in too far headmaster. What if I tell the board
of trustees that the incumbent headmaster is fucking one of the
students who is confused about her gender? 'He told me that if I
dressed all pretty and let him bugger me I'd get preferential
treatment. I'm so confused... I don't know if I'm a boy or a girl.' I
could carry that off don't you think?" Charlotte smirked.
"'He saw me dressed as Elvira last Halloween and followed me to my
dorm. He was so big and strong and I was so frail and feminine and I
couldn't stop him seducing me'. They'd like that story and let's face
it, there is an element of truth there, is there not?" Charlotte
casually ashed her cigarette.
"So why don't we just let sleeping dogs lie and you don't have to worry
about being publicly humiliated and out of a job forever and likely
lose your wife too." Charlotte leaned over the table to get to the
ashtray.
Francis Lister snatched up a plastic shopping bag off the counter and
leapt across the room. With lightning-fast reflexes he whipped the bag
over Charlotte's head. Standing behind the chair he was able to pull
the bag tightly closed around her neck and hold her down as she
struggled. Within three minutes she was unconscious and two minutes
later she was brain dead. Francis held the bag in place until he was
sure she had stopped breathing.
Even dead Charlotte weighed next to nothing and Francis carried her to
the bedroom and laid her on the bed. He posed her, lifting her skirt a
little and spreading her arms imperceptivity at her side. He softly
brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and left her.
He took the money off the table and put it in his pocket and wrapped
the vodka bottle in the plastic bag he had used to suffocate Charlotte.
Then he left the cottage. He stopped briefly to look back at the faint
glow coming from the cottage windows and tossed the plastic bag
containing the vodka bottle into the bushes.
"One For The Team; where the fuck did she ever get that name?" he
pondered out loud and then turned away and began walking.
The End
Author's note: I know some of you are disappointed that Charlotte died
halfway through the story and she deserves our sympathy but she was a
strong character and I hope you can appreciate the good and bad in her.
For those unhappy with the ending to The Flaming Girls, I hope you are
happy with the resolution provided in this story.
As usual I appreciate your feedback, both positive and negative, and I
hope you did enjoy this story.
Michele Nylons
19 May 2020
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