Nipped in the Bud

Part II

It was a first in the history of Narthex Manor. The previous owners had been elderly and retiring. But the new owner, Lord Lechley, had done what was previously unthinkable: he'd invited every substantial family in Oversex to a garden party. And not just any garden party, but a fashionable, Londonesque affair, featuring the powerful and celebrated from all over the Island. The music alone guaranteed a sensation: Lechley had hired the rock band Zoo Two, which had just gone triple-platinum. The invitations were gilt-edged, and each contained these words: "Ladies, please wear your loveliest finery."

"A bit rude to remind them to dress well," said Lechley when he saw the invitations.

"A minor and forgivable lapse," said Mycroft. "You cannot imagine the vanity of these creatures until you've met them."

"Have you . . . met any, Mr. Mycroft?"

"Oh yes," said Mycroft. "Yes indeed."

"With what result?"

"Let's just say that I stripped them of some of their pretty plumage."

On the day of the party, Lord Lechley was there to greet everyone, and so were Mycroft and Atman Singh. Singh, of course, wore his Sikh's turban and dagger; he also had on what looked like a golden belt, wrapped several times around his waist. They all stood at the big door of Narthex Manor as the guests filed by. Mycroft soon noticed that several of the young ladies were preternaturally beautiful. And these really lovely ones wore tetragrams, just like the one he'd seen in his office! He was also struck by their attire: everyone with a tetragram was dressed in a mini-skirt and high heels. He drew Lord Lechley's attention to this fact, and Lechley said: "Yes, it's apparently all the rage in Oversex; has been since the mini first came out, I hear. I was a little puzzled at the start, but I got used to it. Mind, I never complained."

"I really must come to Oversex more often," said Mycroft.

After about half an hour of greeting, a particularly elegant guest appeared. She seemed to be in her mid-thirties, full of breast and curved of hip. Her shoulder-length hair was lustrously black; her eyes were a strange shade of light green. She wore a short-sleeved black blouse, together with a leopard-skin mini-skirt and matching pumps. Around her neck was a chain–with, of course, a tetragram. She extended her right hand in Lord Lechley's direction.

"Lady Spankhurst!" he said, bowing down and kissing the hand. "Always delighted!"

"As am I, Lord Lechley," said his beautiful guest. "Thank you for having me. You look very busy at the moment, but there is a matter I'd like to discuss with you. Perhaps one of your servants here can relieve you . . . ."

"Oh they're not my servants," said Lechley. "Where are my manners?" Calling Mycroft "Mr. Overhill" and Singh "Mr. Gupta," he introduced them to the lovely creature in front of them.

"I hope you won't think me too forward, Milady," said Mycroft as he kissed her hand, "but you look simply ravishing in faux-leopard."

"Why thank you," said Lady Spankhurst. "But, my good man, this is real leopard skin—the skirt and the shoes!"

"Oh . . . I see. Um, aren't leopards a protected species?"

"Not from me," she said with a throaty laugh.

"Ah, quite."

Lady Spankhurst turned back to her host. "Well, Lord Lechley, I'd still like to talk with you when you're free. I'd like to . . . . "

Just then, a much younger-looking woman ran up–a blonde minx in a white mini with blue heels and blouse. Mycroft remembered that she had arrived about fifteen minutes earlier, but he couldn't remember the name she gave. "I . . . I'm sorry, ma'am," she said, "but I . . . ."

"Petula," said Lady Spankhurst, "this is not the time."

"It's an emergency; I . . . I lost my necklace!"

"What?" said the older woman with a hiss.

"I . . . I lost it; maybe when we were last in the woods . . . ."

"That's quite enough. You can go find it later. If you don't, you know what will happen."

Petula looked as if she were about to burst into tears. She bowed her head and, trembling visibly, said: "Y-yes, Milady."

"Leave us--right now."

"Y-yes, ma'am." She managed a quick curtsy and ran off as fast as she had come.

"I apologize," said Lady Spankhurst. "One of my personal assistants, who may be leaving my employ before much longer."

"I hope I've done nothing to get the poor girl in trouble," said Lechley. "You know of course that I'm very interested in anything you have to tell me. Let me get one of the butlers to take over. I like to greet my guests directly, but I must admit I'm ready for an intermission. We can chat in my office."

A servant took Lechley's place at the door. Lechley exchanged pleasantries with "Overhill" and "Gupta," and then he escorted his guest to the office. It was a richly appointed room with a Persian carpet on the floor and a huge desk in front of a picture window. He offered Lady Spankhurst a chair, and then sat down behind the desk.

"Well, Lord Lechley," she said, "it's like this. It seems that an unfortunate accident involving two of the local farmhands has taken up a great deal of your attention . . . . "

"I like to look after my tenants," said Lechley.

"Of course, of course," she said, "but really, my dear, sweet man, you're causing a dreadful stir."

Just then there was a knock at the door. "Come," said Lechley. In walked Mycroft and Singh.

"I . . . I thought we were going to have a private meeting," said her Ladyship. She was clearly angry, though she controlled it well.

"I beg your indulgence, Milady," said Mycroft, "but I have a few tests to perform. They won't take long at all."

"Tests? Whatever do you mean?"

Mycroft approached her. "It can go very quickly if you don't make a fuss . . . . "

"What are you babbling about? Lord Lechley, what is he babbling about?" With this, she stood up from her chair.

"I have to rule out some . . . possibilities," said Lechley. "Please just let the man do what I'm paying him to do. Five minutes of your time at most."

"Absolutely not!" said Lady Spankhurst. "You're no gentleman, Lord Lechley, to be imposing on me like this!" She then reached for the hem of her miniskirt, as if to straighten it.

"Now, Atman!" cried Mycroft. In one swift motion, Singh pulled loose his golden belt, then tossed it at the woman. Like a python, it wrapped itself around her at waist-height: once, twice, three times. Her arms were bound firmly to her sides. Then Mycroft pushed her none too gently against the nearest wall.

"The mystic Belt of Benares," he said. "According to legend, it binds one kind of creature, and one only. Let's test the legend, shall we?"

"You're . . . mad," she gasped. "I'm surrounded . . . by madmen!" Ignoring her, Mycroft unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Her white panties would have been quite unsurprising, but for one thing. A four-pointed star had been monogrammed on the front, in silver thread.

"As I suspected," said Mycroft. "Panties of Power. She was about to blast you with them; you can thank Atman that she didn't."

"This . . . is an . . . outrage!" wailed Lady Spankhurst. "I know the best barristers in England. You'll pay for this! You'll pay!"

"Another test," said Mycroft, and he took hold of her panties and yanked them to her knees. Her groin was completely hairless. An aroma like freshly cut clover began to fill the air. Mycroft then slipped the fingers of his right hand between Lady Spankhurst's trembling legs. She squawked indignantly as he did so. He then withdrew his hand and held it out to Lord Lechley. "Sniff that," he said. "This is no human female."

Lord Lechley lowered his head and took a whiff. "Delightful," he said. "Are you sure you have enough proof?"

"More than sure," said Mycroft. He turned to Lady Spankhurst and said: "You've had quite a long run, it seems. But now it's over. You're done."

"Am I?" she said in a haughty tone of voice. "So you know what I am; goody for you. Do you think I was stupid enough to come alone? Even now, my followers sense that something's up. I'd say you're the one who's done."

"Of course you didn't come alone," said Mycroft. "We were counting on that. Thus the reinforcements."

"W-what do you mean?" she said, and some of her arrogance slipped away. Just then, they heard a high-pitched scream from the garden; and then another; and then still more. They also heard what seemed to be . . . barking! Loud, deep barking that rattled the picture window.

"To the garden!" said Mycroft. He pulled at one of her Ladyship's elbows, but she resisted. So, with a strength that often surprised others, he hoisted her up and slung her over his right shoulder. He then secured her bare bottom with his right arm and dashed out the door. Shrieking with rage, she kicked frantically, but accomplished nothing, except to work her panties further down her legs. The two other men fell in behind them.

When they reached the garden, what they saw brought them to a sudden stop. Mycroft put Lady Spankhurst down in the grass and just stood there. Nothing to do now but watch what he had set in motion.

Everywhere in the garden, people were running and screaming. The reason was plain to see: about twenty enormous dogs had descended on the party. They looked something like St. Bernards, but were even bigger, and were coal-black from snout to tail. They ran back and forth after the guests and emitted deafening barks as they did so. Everybody was in a panic; but it soon became clear that the dogs had very specific interests. Each had singled out one of the exceptionally beautiful female guests and was chasing her.

In their mad rush to get away, the girls were running at a breakneck pace; their speed was astonishing. "How is that possible in high heels?" asked Lechley.

"They're magic heels," Mycroft replied. "They're actually fused to the girls' feet and make them swifter than any mere human runner."

Unfortunately for their quarry, the dogs, despite their size, were at least as fast. In fact, it soon became apparent that they were playing with their victims. Just as a breathtaking, black-haired girl in red mini and heels was running past Lechley, a dog caught the hem of her skirt from behind. He pulled back hard, making her shriek. Then he let go, only to seize her hem once again. More shrieking and sobbing, till he once more released her. Another dog and girl–this one white-skirted Petula–were playing a kind of tug of war over her skirt. She stood facing the creature, and pulled on the garment for all she was worth. Her face was red with tears, her ample breasts were heaving. "Let go! Let go!" she wailed. Suddenly the skirt tore loose, and Petula fell squealing to the ground. The dog considerately waited for her to get up, then chased her some more. A redhead in yellow was briefly cornered at a tree. "Please don't! Please!" she cried, shutting her eyes as the dog began to nuzzle her groin. Then, he gave a big woof! and pushed her away from the tree with his nose. She started running again, and he followed close behind her.

Clearly the dogs enjoyed their little game; but eventually, they began to herd their prey toward a blank expanse of stone wall on the western side of the Manor House. Another few minutes, and the girls had their backs to this wall. There would be no escape: their pursuers had them quite hemmed in.

At this point, Lord Lechley looked out over the garden and saw that most of the legitimate guests had fled. (Zoo Two and their road crew had taken off at the first sign of trouble). A few, however, remained, peeking out from behind trees or hiding under picnic tables. "Party's over, everyone!" Lechley called out in the authoritative voice one gets from twenty-five years in the Army. "We've had an emergency, and you need to be on your way. My servants will show you out." Looking very bewildered, the remaining guests got up and left, escorted by some of Lechley's bigger, rougher-looking retainers.

Lechley then turned to Mycroft. "If others are involved, we've certainly forewarned them."

"Don't fret," said Mycroft. "You can't flush out a nest as big as this one without drawing attention. We'll have to be what the Americans like to call 'pro-active.'"

"Very good," said Lechley. "Now–and only because you promised to tell me–just what are these beasts you've brought down on the neighborhood?"

"Hounds of Hengest, the finest hunters of noble succubi in the world, or out of it. Luckily, Ectoplasm Is Us was having a clearance sale. Now let's go have a look at the endgame."

Mycroft put Lady Spankhurst over his shoulder once again, and then walked over to see how things stood. Lechley and Singh followed close behind. They counted twenty lovely young women, all lined up against the wall. Every one of them–except Petula–had a tetragram. At least as interesting: every one of them had lost her skirt to the playful hunters. Each girl clutched protectively at a trembling bosom with one hand, and at her panties with the other. All were weeping with terrified despair. Twenty Hounds stood just a few feet away, eyeing their catch closely, but otherwise not moving. Mycroft placed Lady Spankhurst on her back in a comfortable-looking patch of grass about ten feet behind the Hounds. Seeing her panties bunched at her ankles, he took hold of them and tugged them past her toes. Then he threw them on the grass beside her.

"I want to make it as clear as can be that these are down for good," he said.

"You're . . . terrible! Terrible!" she cried, and then she just sobbed like a little girl.

Mycroft now gave a nod to the Hounds. In response, they lunged forward, each aiming at a groin. Effortlessly, their muzzles batted the girls' hands aside. Then they all nipped–with surprising gentleness as it turned out: just enough to penetrate both panty and skin for a moment. Now they drew back. Gentle the Hounds may have been, but their teeth exuded a powerful venom; the girls shrieked with the sting of it, and several wet themselves. What's more, the shock of being nipped loosened their tongues. (Noble succubi are the most talkative of wicked fays– especially when they're in mortal trouble.)

"Ouch! My puss!" cried one.

"Oh, mine too!" wept another.

"Oooo, it's worse than cramps when I was human!" wailed a third.

"How . . . how could this happen?" whimpered yet another. "We . . . we all wore our lucky panties!" Sure enough: after their venomous nipping, the girls' hands had fallen nervelessly to their sides, and Mycroft could see a little silver L monogrammed on the front of each pair of undies–right where her Ladyship's pants had sported a tetragram. Some of the L's were obscured by a dab or two of blood; but it was plain that all the girls had them.

"I can help you with that," said Mycroft. "Magical luck is an ill-directed sort of force. If everything else is going against you–as it was today—your luck can play turncoat, and ally with your opponent. I'd say that's what happened: if you'd worn ordinary panties, some of you might have escaped; instead, we've bagged you all." Predictably, this news was greeted with tears and sobs.

At about this time, an especially haughty-looking redhead mastered her emotions enough to speak. Even at bay, she was lovely, with her electric green eyes, green blouse, and green heels. Mycroft remembered her from when she'd arrived an hour or so before: Pamela Paddleworthy, a local ingenue who'd gained some tabloid notoriety for her antics in London.

"This is really a bit of a bore," said Pamela.

"Whatever do you mean?" said Mycroft.

"You're using these . . . monstrous creatures to detain us, and we haven't done a thing! Not deliberately, at any event."

"How's that?" said Mycroft.

"It's all the fault of this . . . Spankhurst creature! She cast spells on us, made us her slaves! We were quite unwilling the whole time."

At these words, Lady Spankhurst cried out: "You . . . traitor! You . . .disloyal little bitch!"

"Do you mean to tell me," said Mycroft, "that you've never drunk the blood of a human being or engaged in unspeakable rituals?"

"Never willingly. We were always under her power!"

"Oh! Oh!" said Lady Spankhurst. "For once I'm speechless; but I'd just like to say . . . ."

Mycroft cut her off: "You've both said enough for me. Every one of you is obviously a full-blown succubus. That means that, of your own free will, you've all drunk human blood and performed Satanic rites. Well, it's over now, it's done with: you've been caught, your pussies have been punctured, and the Hounds are going to finish what they've started. End of story."

This was too much for Pamela. Her eyes widened. Her breasts and lower lip began to tremble violently. Her pretty knees started knocking together. She turned to Lechley now and said: "L-lord Lechley! You can save me from this . . . this lunatic! You think I'm b-beautiful, you know you do. You must remember that n-night in London. That was just a foretaste. I can give you unimaginable p-pleasure! Please, please, don't let him . . . hurt me! Please. Oh dear God, please!"

"I'm sorry, dear," said Lechley. "You weren't quite forthright with me (for one thing, you told me you liked to shave down there). I can't have a relationship without honesty, now can I?"

Mycroft gave the Hounds another nod, and they lunged again. Down came twenty pairs of lucky panties. Twenty hairless twats trembled as their owners fearfully awaited the next assault. It didn't take long: another lunge, and the girls cried out pitiably as they were nipped a second time. They all fell kicking to the ground.

"Panties down," moaned one.

"Forever, it seems," groaned another.

"My pussy's . . . had better days," sobbed a third.

"Oh dear Devil!" cried Pamela. "B-bagged and . . . b-brought to justice . . . . Oh dear! Oh dear!"

Now it was nip, nip, nip, until the death orgasms began. Five, six, seven times they came--and they spurted clover-scented honey every time! At last, they were still.

Mycroft turned to Lady Spankhurst: "I haven't forgotten you," he said. The biggest of the Hounds, the one who'd finished off Pamela, came loping over.

"I . . . I can do more for you than any of those silly girls!" her Ladyship shrieked. "I can give you pleasure beyond your wildest—aaaaaahhhhhh!!!" Nip, nip, nip: soon she, too, was coming and dying.

When the leopard-skin pumps had kicked for the last time, Mycroft, Lechley, and Singh just stood there a while, catching their breath.

"Good show," said Lechley at last. "But what now?"

"Well," said Mycroft. "My Hounds need to feed. They swallow their prey whole, by the way. It's fascinating to watch, but we really do need to make some further plans."

"Right," said Lechley. So the three men left the Hounds to their sumptuous banquet and went back to the Manor.