On A Short Leash by Lindsay Ross Page A

name, ‘Malcolm!’ and her first feeling was embarrassment that she was shouting at someone who wasn’t there. She felt ridiculous – and angry. If someone had come upon the scene, they would have thought her stark raving mad.
    She wondered if there had been anyone in the valley beneath the scarp who witnessed horse and rider in free fall. What would they have seen? Did Malcolm become detached from Major’s back as soon as they went over? Did they stay together as though riding the air? Did the horse plummet more speedily, being the heavier, a Pegasus without wings?
    And, if anyone did see horse and rider fall, how would they account for it? Would they doubt their own senses? Especially if they were far away on the other side of the river and the sound didn’t carry, the sound of the crash into the undergrowth. She imagined such a witness might rub his eyes in disbelieve.
    No one came forward even when the accident received lots of coverage in the media.
    Susannah went to pieces.
    She went back to drinking heavily, snorted coke, went to clubs in the city and threw herself at men.

Chapter Seven
     
    For Susannah’s long-suffering parents, the Septimus Grey Academy represented the last chance.
    By this time she was nineteen years of age and very pretty despite dark shadows under her eyes and not such perfect skin because of her heavy drinking and poor diet, not to mention the drugs.
    When Susannah said there was no way she was staying ‘at this fucking dump’ as she called it, two men fell upon her and restrained her firmly. Although Susannah’s mother winced, she knew better than to intervene; they knew drastic measures were needed if any progress was to be made. Her parents tried to wish her farewell, but Susannah was dragged along a corridor and left in a room bare of any furnishing and fittings and with bars at the painted over window.
    She was pacing the room, trying to stem her tears, when she heard the door being unlocked.
    One of the men who’d pushed her arm up her back and frogmarched her out of the female Principal’s study had returned on his own, bringing a chair, a bundle of clothes and an implement that looked like a small oar. He set the chair down in the centre of the room, placed the other items on the floor and beckoned to Susannah to come and sit on his knee.
    He’d locked the door on the inside.
    She was terrified. He was a huge man, drastically overweight but still powerful looking; he wore a short-sleeved shirt and his tattooed biceps were as thick as most people’s thighs.
    He patted his knees and she sat where he indicated, then froze completely. She couldn’t move a muscle as he put his hand up her short skirt and felt under her knickers for her pussy. After a little fingering, he pulled her knickers right down to her ankles and resumed his probing between her labia.
    He put his left hand under her chin and turned her face towards him so he could kiss her sloppily on the mouth, pushing his tongue in deep. She felt herself tense (he must have felt it too) but didn’t dare recoil so had to endure him, his bristly chin chafing her soft skin, his taste of fried food, his ash-tray breath.
    She’d been bone dry but now his fingers had induced some moisture in her pussy.
    ‘That’s it, honey, lovely cunt,’ he breathed between the kisses. ‘You love it, don’t you?
    She thought of Malcolm and tears filled her eyes.
    ‘Tell me how much you like it, Susie.’
    ‘I like it,’ she said, almost inaudibly.
    ‘Can’t hear.’
    Malcolm had said the same words but it had been so different.
    ‘I like it, Sir.’
    ‘Like what, honey?’
    ‘I like your fingers up my…’
    ‘Twat,’ he said, ‘cunt.’
    ‘Cunt,’ she said.
    ‘Tell you what I like, shall I?’
    She didn’t answer but kissed him back half-heartedly.
    ‘I like my cock sucked. I bet you’ve done that to a few boys in your time, haven’t you?’
    ‘Yes, Sir.’
    ‘Are you a bit of a slut?’
    ‘Yes, Sir.’ She