Strawberries and Cream: The Sherlock Holmes Casebook #1 Read online

  She turned away in disgust.

  “Ew, no.”

  Holmes laughed humorlessly: “But, my dear. You promised. Anything.”

  “That is wrong,” she pouted. “That’s perverse and depraved. I submitted myself for punishment to be absolved of sin – not embroiled in it.”

  Holmes tutted.

  “Dear Pandora, the first step towards being absolved of sin is humility and obedience. If you’re not willing to be obedient to myself or the good Doctor here, how will you be obedient to our boys on the Rugby team when they win this Sunday?”

  Pandora’s face grew paler.

  “Y-you can’t be serious.”

  “I am. The first step to your absolution is absolute submission. You will do everything they ask of you – no matter how ‘perverse’ or ‘depraved’ you think it is – and in order to do that, you must first do the same with the good Doctor and myself.”

  Pandora turned her head away, her chin thrust out proudly.

  “I will do no such thing.”

  “Pride is a sin, Pandora. Humility is a virtue. Do I have to thrash that lesson into you?”

  “I will not obey.”

  Holmes raised the crop.

  “This hurts me, my dear, more than it hurts you.”

  Crack!

  She wailed in agony.

  “Oh, wait,” Holmes paused before his next strike. “Scratch that last one. I think it will hurt you more.”

  Crack!

  Pandora closed her eyes defiantly, even as the crop painted a burning red brand across her pinstriped bum.

  “Shall not… Aaaah!”

  Crack!

  “Aieeee! No!”

  Crack!

  “Owww ! I won’t!”

  Crack!

  “Ow! Ow! You can’t make me!”

  For what seemed like twenty strokes, the bratty brunette refused to surrender. She bucked and writhed and squirmed and screamed, with me holding her head even as the rest of her beautiful, beaten body flopped and flipped like a fish out of water.

  Soon her beautiful arse was a burning red – the heat radiating across the room.

  Crack!

  And then she broke.

  “Oh God! No, no!” Tears sprang from her eyes. “Stop, please!”

  Holmes paused, arm raised to strike her again.

  “Are you sure, Pandora?”

  “Oh yes, yes. Please stop.”

  “You know what to do.”

  And she did. Looking down, I suddenly felt the utterly delicious sensation of a hot, wet mouth envelop my erection.

  “Oh, Good Lord…” I groaned.

  The crack of the whip was replaced by the sound of wet, rhythmic slurping. Gazing down, I watched as the beautiful Pandora swallowed my hardness – her lips and tongue working in skilled rhythm. It was heaven.

  “Oh, what a lying little slattern,” Holmes beamed, watching Pandora obediently suckle on my hardness. “She pretends to be so pure and innocent – but if that’s the first time she’s sucked on one of those, the Pope’s Jewish.”

  “Sherlock!” I was shocked.

  “Oh relax. I’m Church of England.”

  As offended as I was, my moral outrage was soon forgotten, as Pandora slurped her tongue up and down my hard-as-wood shaft and teasingly tongued my balls.

  Sherlock Holmes watched intently. He was stroking his own hardness with increasing vigor.

  “Well, if you have no objection,” the depraved detective beamed, “I’ll dip my wick in the opposite end. If I don’t take care of this,” he pointed at his straining erection, “I’ll be as good as useless all day.”

  The truth be told? I really couldn’t care less at that point. I had a throbbing need that needed to be taken care of.

  I gave Pandora’s hair a playful tug and forced myself an inch deeper into her heavenly mouth.

  Chapter Eight

  When Sherlock Holmes spread Pandora’s splayed thighs and shuffled between them, Pandora protested – but her muffled outrage was difficult to understand with the best part of a foot of cock lodged in her throat.

  Similarly, the wail of anguish as Holmes grasped and parted her tender, tortured buttocks did nothing but send a deeply satisfying vibration up and down the shaft of my straining cock.

  Pandora bucked her hips and clenched her buttocks, but Holmes mercilessly parted her moist flesh, aimed for the glistening gap between her thighs.

  He lined up his straining cock at the glistening entrance to her wetness… and pushed.

  “Oh, you little slut,” Sherlock Holmes groaned with satisfaction, sinking inside his helpless prisoner as effortlessly as if her cunt was warm butter. “You’re simply dripping.”

  And she was.

  Pandora closed her eyes, her mouth sucking obediently on my hard shaft, even as her quivering little pussy was clinging like a vacuum to another.

  The beautiful girl was a sight to behold, skewered on both ends. Her pale, perfect body was pinstriped with red welts. Saliva dribbled down her chin as she struggled to suckle on my straining erection.

  Pandora’s beautiful backside was as rosy red as a Robin’s breast – and Holmes was finding it effortless to sink inside her up to his balls.

  “That reminds me,” the Sherlock mused, as he thrust luxuriously into Pandora’s tightness and watched me do the same on her other end. “Lestrade left me a message. There’s a spit-roast at the end of the month for the Benevolence Fund. I don’t suppose you’d mind cutting accompanying me, would you?”

  “I’d be honored,” I groaned, barely listening at this point.

  I had grasped Pandora’s head with both hands now, and was thrusting quite aggressively into her wetly sucking mouth. She choked and slobbered as she tried to accommodate me.

  “My dear Watson,” Holmes asked. “Are you about to pop your lot?”

  “I think so,” I groaned. “Oh God, she’s heaven. Does she swallow?”

  “Indubitably,” Holmes nodded with a hint of pride. “Especially if properly motivated.” He eyed the whip wickedly. “But do you mind doing me a favor, Doctor?”

  “What’s that?” There was a ‘slurp, slurp, slurp’ as I vigorously assaulted Pandora’s mouth with my cock. “Name it.”

  “Don’t spurt it in her mouth. She’s had nothing but strawberries all week and it would ruin my experiment for her to ingest anything else.” Sherlock shuddered at the thought. “When those Rugby boys are feasting off her, I would be horrified to think it’s spunk she’s sweating from those pores.”

  I paused, shaft lodged deep in Pandora’s throat.

  “So where?”

  “Oh, how rude of me!” With a ‘schlurp’ Sherlock Holmes pulled his shaft from Pandora’s welcoming tightness. “Try her this end – she’s sublime.”

  “And you don’t mind me popping inside of her?” I asked – I’m a gentleman, after all.

  “Good Lord, no!” With a ‘smack,’ Sherlock Holmes spanked Pandora hard on one of her tortured buttocks. Her outraged scream emerged as gurgle. “Fill her up. Strawberries and cream, what?” He grinned. “You might knock the little slattern up, but that’s hardly going to be a concern for this weekend. And if you don’t do it, I’m sure one of those well-hung boys will anyway.”

  Pandora coughed and gasped as I withdrew my throbbing hardness from her mouth.

  It wouldn’t take the world’s greatest consulting detective to tell that I was about to explode. My shaft was red and engorged, the head bulging obscenely.

  Releasing Pandora’s head, her face flopped into the cushions and she pressed it into the plush pillows, gasping for breath.

  Grasping my saliva-slick shaft, I shuffled around to Pandora’s defenceless rear end and stepped between her splayed thighs. Then, I pressed his enormous erection against her defiled flower - Sherlock Holmes had certainly ‘warmed her up.’

  And then I took my pleasure with her.

  Chapter Nine

  Sinking inside of Pandora’s heavenly tightness w
as effortless – and her tight little tunnel gripped me like a velvet glove.

  “Oh God,” I groaned. “Oh, you heavenly little harlot…” Sinking as deeply inside Pandora as possible, I exploded almost instantly – spurting and spewing and flooding her with my seed.

  “Good job,” Holmes clapped his hands gleefully as he witnessed me emptying my balls inside of her. “Oh, doesn’t she feel wonderful?”

  I didn’t respond for a moment. I just stood there, buried in Pandora’s pussy – lost in the intense sensation. Eventually, as reality came back, it was with a slightly more unseemly sensation.

  The funk of sexual arousal lifted – and I realized where I was.

  Doctor James Watson – the prim and proper army physician –buried balls-deep in a pretty young stranger. I’d just done the most unseemly things – all in front of another man, no less!

  With the clear head that men only experience after orgasm, I slithered my softening shaft from Pandora’s upturned rear and hurriedly stuffed it back inside my trousers.

  A deluge of pearlescent seed dribbled from Pandora’s plundered pussy as my cock vacated her.

  “Oh, don’t be shy, Doctor,” Sherlock Holmes shouldered him aside good-naturedly. “We now share the unbreakable bond only despoiling the same young woman can bring. Now give me a moment to catch up with you.”

  If Pandora’s pussy was a wet, wanton and willing well-hole before, it was doubly so now. She was sticky with another man’s seed and Sherlock Holmes found the sensation of ‘sloppy seconds’ most exhilarating.

  With three, four and then five lascivious thrusts inside her, he came too – emptying himself with abandon. Sperm gushed down her thighs.

  “Mmmmpgh!” Pandora reported, face buried in the pillows. “Mmmpgh!”

  It didn’t take my years of medical training to confirm that she’d just climaxed again.

  “Quite,” Lovingly, Sherlock Holmes patted one of Pandora’s rosy red buttocks. “Well done, my dear.” And then he pulled himself from her plundered depths, and gave me a lascivious grin.

  Epilogue

  Pandora’s tribulations were not over, of course.

  With my muted oversight, Sherlock Holmes continued spending the next two days force-feeding her punnets of strawberries. Sitting her naked at the dining table, he shovelled punnets and punnets into her bowl and sprinkled them liberally with sugar. Then, washed down with great glassfuls of spring-water, Pandora would be forced to eat. And eat. And eat.

  “She won’t eat strawberries for a year after this is all over,” I mused dryly.

  And Sunday, when she was stuffed with ripe, red fruit, Sherlock Holmes and I smuggled her to the pavilion near the Rugby pitch – and stole her inside while the game was in session.

  She hung in the sauna for forty-five minutes, like a delicious, debauched ham being steamed to succulence. She was dripping by the time the exhausted players shuffled in, three points down against the opposing team.

  “Don’t despair, boys!” Sherlock Holmes revealed her like the grand prize at a garden party. “Drink from her like she was an Oasis, and replenish your energy!”

  And they did.

  The sight of eleven burly men gorging themselves on Pandora’s pale and perfect body was enough to work Sherlock Holmes and I into a ‘fever pitch’ of our own.

  When the team left to play the second half, Holmes and I cut Pandora down, and Holmes was all too eager to tear open his britches and offer the obedient girl his straining erection.

  “And we both expect you to swallow,” he advised Pandora, as she submissively slathered Sherlock’s shaft with spit. “You’re off your strawberry diet, dear girl.”

  And although we both missed it, in the second half of the match, Hampshire County managed a quite astonishing comeback – hammering Sussex into submission with a determination that would be talked about for a decade afterwards.

  And curiously enough, as the Mayor handed out the trophy to the new champions, none of them seemed to want to bask in the glory. They hurried back to their changing room with the same furious intensity they’d won the match with.

  And just as promised, Pandora Blake was reluctantly awaiting them.

  * * *

  It was a week after that when Sherlock Holmes invited me once again to 221b Baker Street – this time to hand me my winnings.

  I asked after poor, penitent Pandora, even as I counted my money.

  “Oh, she went back to her father a changed girl,” Sherlock promised me. “Sore and stiff and sticky but quite satisfied, thank you - and apparently her disobedience problem is a thing of the past, according to her father.”

  “Oh, really?” I asked dubiously.

  “That’s not to say she’s not still attending discipline sessions,” the detective smiled. “Her father was so impressed with the transformation, he asked me to continue tutoring her.”

  I blushed, just imagining what that entailed.

  “In fact,” Holmes confirmed my suspicions, “I have one session planned for just next week, over tea. You should attend. Some of the boys from the Rugby team will be there.”

  Sherlock Holmes gave me a lascivious wink.

  “We’ll be serving strawberries.”

  The End

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  Simone Scarlet

  New York, 2015