The Amorous Agatha Christie 07

"Indeed," agreed Sexton Blake.

He took Agatha by the elbow and went into the library. They smoked and talked in tense, low tones. Sexton looked at her.

"Who did it?" he demanded, almost aggressively. "Did he escape through some secret trapdoor?"

"I can assure you that there is no trapdoor or panel of any kind in that room."

"Nonsense. There must be. There's no other possible solution."

"Ahem... ahem... except one," offered she. "The door was locked. The window was locked. So what's left? Only that Gold knew his murderer, and what's more, allowed himself to be killed. It's simply a matter of reasoning."

Blake leaned back in his chair and, with his elbows on his arms, steepled his fingers together.

"I simply don't follow."

"Consider this. We are lured here by a person or persons unknown and then told we are to be murdered. But before we are, three of the gathered party are bumped off. Whilst WE are present. If the proposed killer merely wanted us dead, we would be gone by now."

"So, this is some sort of game?"

"Precisely."

"I say you two. Would you come to Edgar's study? He has something to show you."

Simon Smith said his piece and then withdrew.

"Come on."

"It might be a trap," said Blake as he hesitated.

"I should jolly well think so too. Hurry."

Despite Agatha Christie's enthusiasm, Sexton followed cautiously. They found the study and saw that the door was open. They entered and peered about the dimly lit room.

"Wolstenholme? Are you in here?"

Agatha immediately noted a hunched figure at the writing desk. It was Wolstenholme himself. He was slumped over with a grim look on his lifeless visage. The inquisitive redhead sniffed a discarded bottle and nodded.

"Is he...?"

"Poisoned. This is arsenic. That's the fourth."

"Look. There's a written page."

Blake took hold of the paper and gasped.

"I say. Listen to this. The Demise Of Agatha Christie And Sexton Blake. By Edgar Wolstenholme. Chapter One. Having easily lured the two pathetic creatures named in the title to Raven Manor, my devious plan was put into motion. After toying with the amateur sleuths, they were drawn to the study by the author where they met their end."

"I see. Clearly, he has been bumping off the others in order to provide an established plot for a book. Wolstenholme is the killer. And he intends to finish us off as well as himself."

"What? How?"

Even as they spoke, a faint hissing sound could be heard, accompanied by a cloak of vapour.

"It's gas! Quick...the door."

Even with their best intentions, both were rendered unconscious within ten seconds.

x

The blackness lifted and Agatha awoke to feel the dead weight of Sexton on top of her, his bare chest mashed to her bosom. Both had been shamefully stripped of all clothing and were secured by rope to a wooden stool. The author of 'The Mysterious Affair At Styles' tried to remain calm, to keep her breathing steady, and act aloof. Every nerve in her denuded body flexed with concern. She wondered if Sexton could feel the violent burning of her heart against his chest.

"Sexton. Sexton! Wake up."

The groggy detective stirred from his gas-induced slumber and then snapped to attention. He tried to rise up to his full height but it was plain to see that he was tightly bound to the exact stool. About his knee level was a heavy length of thick rope that wound about his legs, thus ensuring he could not escape.

"Agatha! Are you well?" he asked wide-eyed.

"I...I don't know. I feel most strange." she answered.

"We appear to be laid bare and tied up."

"In a nutshell."

As she looked up from her odd posture, she saw an anxious look on his face as he looked beyond them to the wall behind.

"My dear, this is deadly serious. I perceive what appears to be a bomb, not ten feet from us and fizzing. It must be disarmed else we perish!"

From my position she craned her neck to see but to no avail. Sexton told her that it was a heavy black sphere with a long fuse that was burning down to the neck.

"It's basically a mortar bomb loaded with gunpowder. Nasty thing to be sure."

"Wolstenholme! But we saw you dead!"

"Not dead, Sexton," said Agatha calmly. "Just pretending to be poisoned. Look around."

Out of the shadows of the dimly lit basement, there came the nefarious group of men. Including Archie Gold, Sam Greaves, and the butler Carstairs.

"This is rich! Dead men walking."

"I surmised as much," scoffed Agatha. "Who would suspect Wolstenholme if he were discovered dead? A dead man is rarely suspected of committing a crime. The perfect alibi."

"Quite so, quite so. It was I who enticed you both here so that I could observe your skills of deduction up close."

"Yes," continued Christie from beneath Blake. "My man was first drugged to keep him out of action, and the Carstairs had a fake bolt between the shoulder blades, and Greaves had a bag of blood sewn into his jacket to feign his death by a bullet. I examined the dagger in Gold's chest and it was clearly a theatrical dummy. He merely inserted it himself and locked the door to his room."

"Correct. We faked all the deaths and pitted our wits against yours. It will provide material for my next book. I've had rather a long spell of writer's block this year. Mrs. Christie however should be congratulated on seeing through the deception so quickly. And now we add the tragic finale. I have given you both a sporting chance to save yourselves. You have about ten minutes before the fuse is done and you are blown to smithereens. Just snuff out the fuse and the bomb is rendered useless. By the way. I left you both with an incentive. Cheerio!"

The group laughed heartily as they retreated, leaving the exposed couple to contemplate their lot.

"Can you move, Sexton?"

He tugged on the tough rope and the effort gave Agatha a most curious sensation in her nether regions.

"My legs are tied fast, and my...dear lord!"

They both looked down at their merged loins with a stunned realisation. They were stuck together by a thick black dildo that had been attached to Sexton by a length of strapping around his waist, and the business end was undoubtedly, and most assuredly inserted in Agatha's vagina!

"Agatha! Are you alright!"

"I don't rightly know."

"My dick seems to have been inserted into a hollowed-out interior of this fiendish sex toy. I'll attempt to remove it."

Blake tugged and twisted the deeply inserted fake cock from her quim, but the exertion only made for some discomfort on her part.

"Simply won't budge. Time is of the essence, my dear. The bomb must be disarmed. The approximate distance from us to the bomb is ten feet. To the door from here, thirty feet. Therefore we will move toward the bomb. It's elementary."

"Agreed, but how?"

"By administering a forward force so that I push the stool across the floor with all my strength. This will mean that if I do...well."

He pointed to her stuffed cunt and sighed softly.

"If it must be done then so be it. I am ready."

"I need to get hard. Pardon me, old girl."

Blake ran his hands up the bound woman's flanks to her breasts. He cupped and caressed them before tweaking the nipples to hardness between thumb and finger.

"I'm getting hard. I can feel myself expanding inside the hollowed-out dildo. On the count of three then. One, two, three."

The rugged man moved his pelvis with a shove into her, but the stool barely moved an inch.

"I shall have to push harder. Ready?"

Agatha nodded bravely and peered into his narrowed eyes. He gripped her lower thighs and inhaled deeply before slamming his hips into her hard. The stool scraped upon the floor slowly, and as it did so then the dildo thrust up inside her cunt to the hilt.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!"

"You're doing a sterling job, Agatha. Are you alright?"

"Stop! Give...me a...moment."

The redhead gasped as her muff juiced up and lubed up the embedded dildo. Sexton held her firmly by her thighs and thrust up slowly yet inevitably toward the fizzing bomb. Her tits bounced wildly up and down as her body was pushed to and fro. The false cock drove in and out of her in a sick travesty of lovemaking. And his hard-on drove into the prepared slot inside the thing.

"So brave, oh so brave."

"AGH! OH! GAH! Wait! I'm coming!"

Her loins exploded in a heated climax and she squirted fluid from within her dripping cunt as Sexton paused once more.

"Almost there, can't stop now! The fuse is burning fast."

He humped faster as she lifted her hips as high as possible, and they moved closer and closer to the spherical object. The dildo stretched her open with its wide girth and she experienced a series of mini orgasms as a result.

"It's so...oh my! Coming again!"

Agatha shrieked aloud as her leg muscles tensed and ached and her spine screamed with the load.

"Hold on, hold on!"

Sexton hammered into her as they scampered across the floor, and the dildo whipped her quim into a foaming lather.

"Almost."

Thrust!

"Almost."

Thrust!

"There! Yes, I have the bomb!"

Near to fainting, Agatha smiled weakly as he snuffed out the fuse between finger and thumb. Now at a full stop, Blake dry-humped her as he neared his own climax. He threw his head up as he ejaculated inside the dildo, and his cum seeped out in trickles down their legs.

"Hey! It's Thompson. Untie us man! Quick!"

"Great heavens, what HAVE you been up to?" said the redhead's chauffeur and part time lover.

"Never mind that," barked Sexton as he scrabbled about for his discarded trousers. "We need to stop Wolstenholme and the others."

Thompson grinned as he rubbed his knuckles. The ex military man beckoned Blake to the next room to show him a heap of crumpled and beaten men.

"You took on all of them? Even Jack Hammer?"

"I sorted him out first. Turns out he has a glass jaw. The others were a breeze."

Agatha joined them and rubbed her aching wrists and ankles, oblivious to the fact she stood stark naked in the company of the two red blooded males.

"Look, old thing. Your chap here has beaten the lot."

"There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact, Sexton. Please fetch my dress."

As she slipped on her attire, she looked at the sorry-looking group of scoundrels. Wolstenholme had fled coop leaving behind no trace.

"Do you suppose we shall ever see him again?" Blake wondered.

"I should not worry. He was a pathetic creature with a warped sexual deviance. Tying us up together showed his true colours. Depraved and perverted."

"An ugly business, to be sure. A very ugly business indeed."

Sexton drew a shuddering breath. His face had gone a little white too.

"Crikey! I just fucked a dildo! What a monstrous deed. Wolstenholme is a thoroughly unpleasant fellow."

"I have a feeling that there are a lot more of his type out there. Biding their time until they strike."

"Indeed. And they shall find me waiting when they do so."

"Bravo, Sexton. You have lots of spunk."

Blake grimaced and looked at his groin. Then he spread his hands and laughed heartily.

END