A Special Relationship

 

by Velvetglove

 

 

 

 

 

Toni was in a meeting with her design team when her cell phone buzzed like a mini vibrator. It was her super-slim personal one, not her business Blackberry. She stared at it, a hot flush pimpling her neck, as the noise continued, signifying she had received a text message.

Around her, seven faces stared expectantly, paused, watching.

She lunged at it and flipped it face down as the throbbing ceased.

“Yes ?” she snapped at the young female designer who’d been speaking, before her phone interrupted them. “Carry on.”

The meeting continued for five minutes but she barely heard a word.

“Lets take a break.” She said. “Back here in ten.”

 

After they had all filed out of her office, she looked at the little square screen. It was a simple coded message of just seven digits:

 

! ! ! x x x

G

 

The hot flush shot from her brain, straight down her spine to between her legs. She screwed her eyes shut, exhaled a deep breath and put her hand out to steady herself. Every time it happened it was the same. A potent cocktail of emotions; shame, jealousy, excitement, lust, frustration, anger and, yes, love. She could picture it; hear, smell, taste. Her vintage digital said 15.22. She still had to concentrate another three hours or so.

 

The meeting continued. Toni was Creative Director. The six women and single man round the table, who mostly constituted her senior team, relied on her, looked for guidance, leadership, inspiration. Somehow she still managed to give them her best, wrapping up another week of intense creativity.

At six thirty, she closed the meeting.

“Good weekend guys. See you bright and early Monday.”

Files were closed, papers cleared.

Davina, a young, pretty design student, who’d been taking the meeting’s minutes, collected all the mugs onto a tray.

“Night everyone!” shouted a couple of the unattached girls merrily, already running late for their dates.

“Good night, Toni.” Davina chirped. “Have a nice weekend.”

Toni stared at her desk when they had all left her office. Her salary slip was in her in tray. Every fourth Friday was payday. She pushed the envelope, a couple of glossy magazines and a bunch of unread memos into her satchel.

Then she turned out the light and exited ‘one part’ of her life.

A change is as good as a rest.

It was time for the ‘other part’ to take over.

 

*** *** ***

 

She made it home with 3 minutes to spare.

19.57

Her curfew started at eight o’clock.

But she could tell the house was empty anyway. She let herself in and placed her satchel on the chair in the hall. She walked quickly from room to room, opening the doors and flicking on the lights.

Living Room, fine.

Dining Room, fine.

His office, locked.

Kitchen, a mess.

She mounted the stairs and went into her bedroom. Sorry, his bedroom. A mess.

Ensuite bathroom, a mess.

Spare bedroom – hers - fine.

Shower room, fine.

Box room, locked.

She glanced at her watch. He might be back at any time.

In spite of her end-of-the-week lethargy, she returned to the main bedroom and stripped off her office gear, quickly pulling on a clean thong, a black push-up quarter-cup bra, sluttish fishnet stockings, suspender belt, black micro-skirt, overly tight silk blouse, a French maid’s apron and finally an uncomfortable pair of stiletto heels.

She looked at herself in the full length mirror.

As ever, the costume was too cheap and cliché to look sexy to her. But it was what he liked and that’s all that counted.

That alone made her feel sexy.

She ran her fingers through her hair. She was a brunette, with it cut shoulder length, and a chic fringe, like that hot French actress.

She would have liked to spend a bit more time on her appearance but there was too much to do.

20.09

She stared properly at the double bed. There is a subtle difference between a ‘slept in’ unmade bed and a ‘fucked in’ unmade bed. Not just the scents and smells and stains. It’s the way the bottom sheet is crumpled, the pillows cast aside, the blankets or duvet on the floor.

Of course, the text message had forewarned her but the evidence always stabbed her deliciously, agonisingly, in the neglected depths of her body and soul. Of all the tortures he put her through – or rather, that she put herself through – this was the one that hit her right where it hurt the most.

Antonia turned back to the mirror. Such a posh name for a girl like her, which was the reason she had been called Toni as long as she could remember. Why did she have to put herself through this ?

What possible defect in her chromosomes had caused it ?

She gazed at her high cheekbones, button nose, slender red lips and into her accusing emerald eyes, with just a few lines now appearing at the sides.

She knew she wasn’t beautiful, but then again, not many men would throw her out of their beds either.

She surveyed her full cleavage spilling out of her the 34B black bra that was a size too small, over the top of the stretched blouse.

She looked exactly what she was.

Sighing, she scooped the bottom sheet of the bed and removed the pillow cases. Time to get to work.

21.40

An hour and a half later, she waited in silence kneeling by the front door. Each room was now clean, the sheets were tumbling in the dryer, his meal awaited on the table. She hadn’t eaten herself, or drunk, or even relieved her bladder of the cups of tea that had kept her going through the afternoon meeting.

22.30

He often put her through tests like this. Not ringing, no texts, nothing. Her entire Friday evening gone, wasted. Sometimes she nearly succumbed and said fuck it all. Why should she, a successful 36 year old woman, let herself be abused by this upstart 24 year old so-called “musician ?” Yes, he was gorgeous, and maybe he was talented, but neither of those things really had much to do with it.

22.41

A noise of the doorstep. At last. The bell rang. She quickly rose and opened it.

He stood swaying on the step, smirking at her in a drunken haze.

“Mouth.”

She tried to pull him inside the hall, at least.

He tittered, looking exaggeratedly left and right down the street.

“Nobody’s coming.”

He fumbled drunkenly with the zipper of his jeans.

“Mouth !”

His tone was firmer now, his American accent more pronounced, the way he elongated the ‘ou’ sound in mouth, compared with the more clipped English sound.

Hesitantly, reluctant but unable to stop herself, Toni knelt down on the doormat and helped him extract his swollen penis from his pants.

She opened her mouth into a wide ‘o’. Behind him there was only darkness and street lamps but somebody might walk past at any time.

His hot, beer-loaded urine splashed her face and then he was inside her, filling her throat and gums until she gagged, and its bitterness overflowed onto the mat, and he was chuckling, hosing it all over her coiffed hair, clean face and pressed blouse.

23.11

Half an hour later, she refilled his mug with black coffee, clearing his plate. While he ate, he had let her shower and change, this time just into a white towelling robe. He reached inside it and cuddled her to him, nibbling on her nipple.

“May I eat something ?” she asked, not twisting away.

He opened her robe and tweaked the flesh on her hips. She shivered and stared down, ashamed at the pinch of excess skin between his thumb and finger. Toni was nearer forty than thirty, his age and half again, and she was in as good shape as any of her contemporaries. But she knew he compared her with the honed, skin-tight 18-21 year old students he hung out with.

“Please.”

He perused the plate of chicken salad she had laid out for herself; lettuce leaves, sliced tomatoes, cucumber, little yellow corncobs and a cold leg of chicken. Slowly he picked up a large floppy green leaf.

“Spread.” He said, his voice less slurred, more in control now.

She knew better than to argue. She widened her stance and pushed her hips forward slightly, giving him access. Her mound was smooth and hairless and her labia pouted, slick with desire.

His dark, almost black, shining eyes looked up at her, mocking her, as he wiped the lettuce through her cunt as if cleaning her with a tissue. Then he sniffed it.

“Been a good girl ?” he asked, the word ‘good’ drawn out in an exaggerated Texan drawl.

She nodded, emitting a slight gasp. “Yes.”

He stared deep into her eyes; five, ten, fifteen seconds, seeking any tell tale signs of dishonesty.

There were none.

She knew better than to try to lie. They didn’t use chastity belts. Self control was a better, harder, test. It had been two weeks - fourteen whole days - since he had permitted her an orgasm. She wasn’t even allowed to request one. The decision was entirely his, voluntarily given, if he felt in the mood.

She met his gaze, simultaneously admiring his chiselled beauty even though he was the worse for wear. She adored his unusual combination of Ivy League and Latin looks, from his lush, layered hair and olive skin, to his perfectly symmetrical teeth and classic jaw line. A young Clooney; her own ‘Gorgeous George’.

“Turn.”

She knew what was coming but she controlled her expression. Carefully, she turned away from him, bending over, flipping the robe over her back so it hung down over her shoulders to the kitchen floor.

She felt his fingers opening her bottom, sensed him inspecting her, then screwed her eyes shut in humiliation as the lettuce leaf wiped her crack.

“Wait.”

She winced as his fingers pushed one of the tiny corncobs into her dry anus, easing it fully inside her. It was small. Nothing but her pride was hurt. She stayed motionless, listening to him breathing.

“Okay. You can eat now.”

His hand appeared, placing her plate on the floor under her face. She dropped to her knees and wolfed her salad on all fours without using her hands. She heard him pouring himself a whisky.

00.35

He lay on the bed now, fingers laced behind his head, while she soaped his cock and sponged it dry with a hot flannel. There were telltale crusty bits of dried fluid along his shaft and in his pubic hair from his afternoon activities.

She didn’t ask, and he didn’t say.

His right to fuck other women was unlimited and unquestioned. Those were their rules.

“Can I please you ?” she asked, when she’d finished, lowering her head to his waist suggestively, pursing her lips. She knew her lips were too thin and she looked silly trying to pout like that French actress he fancied, but she tried.

He turned and smiled sadly at her, cruelty giving way to kindness, as it sometimes did at moments like this.

“You got my text ?”

She nodded.

“I’ve got a new one. A real stunner.”

She kept her composure, nodding again.

“I’m fucked out, doll. You couldn’t get my dick up tonight if you were half your age and twice as hot. Too much hooch too. Maybe in the morning, eh ?”

She nodded, moving her head away.

“She borrowed some of your stuff. I’m not sure what.”

“Er … fine. That’s okay.”

“I said for her to help herself.” He turned onto his side, smiling at her.

“Sure.”

“You’ll tell her she can keep it, right.” Statement, not a question.

“Wh … what ? When will I m … meet her ?”

He shrugged, teasing. “Soon.”

“What has she … taken ?”

“Not much. She’s taller, but you’re a size bigger than her she said. A sweater; that black cashmere one you just bought. The one you were real excited about. Her hooters looked great in it. I don’t know. A shirt, I think. A leather belt she liked. Some jewellery, but nothing valuable. Just stuff from your pot.”

She listened in silence, wanting to dash to her wardrobe and dressing table to see what some young bitch had helped herself to. The humiliation was intense.

How this young man knew just how to do it to her.

“Yes.” She mumbled. “She can keep it.”

He grinned. “Horny ?”

It took a moment for Toni to compute the sudden change of topic.

She nodded. “Very.”

“Then maybe we’ll find a way for you to get a little excitement over this weekend. If you’re good. Now, turn off that light.”

In the dark, he kissed her softly on the forehead, cheek and finally lips.

“Sleep tight, doll.”

“Sleep tight … Sir.” She replied, turning to stroke his back while he drifted off to sleep.

Within two minutes, she heard the quiet rumble of his snoring.

 

*** *** ***

 

She slipped out of the bed at 07.45.

She’d have liked to have slept more but she was wide awake and there were chores to do downstairs. She made herself a peppermint tea and started on some ironing, also jotting down a shopping list as she thought of things they needed for the house.

At nine, she made coffee, poured grapefruit juice and took a tray with a mug, milk carton and an empty glass jug upstairs.

Gently, she kissed him awake.

He rubbed his eyes. “Time ?”

“Just gone nine.”

He grimaced. “Fetch me something for my head.”

She went into the bathroom and grabbed a couple of pills. He took them with a gulp of the juice.

“Oh boy.” He squinted at her as she opened the curtains slightly. “Everything hurts.” He let rip with an enormous, early morning flatulent fart under the duvet. “Come here, doll.”

She walked back to the bed as he threw back the cover. He was hard. A gust of fetid air slammed into her nostrils.

“Jug.”

She knelt by the side of the bed and laid the glass jug on his hard, muscled abdomen, circling it round his erection.

“Mmm …” he groaned in relief.

His urine, dark and plentiful, hosed the jug. She tipped it slightly as it steadily filled, careful not to let any spill on him.

“Mmm …” she echoed admiringly. “Thank you, Sir !” It wasn’t enough for them that she drank his piss. She had to be grateful too.

She placed the sloshing, three quarters full jug back on the tray and passed him his steaming mug of coffee.

“Sleep well ?” he asked her, as she propped his pillow up behind him.

“So-so. You snored.”

He smiled at her. “So would you if you’d had the day I had yesterday.”

She waited, wondering if he’d tell her any more in the cold light of the morning. But he didn’t.

He looked down at his still thick cock. No longer piss-hard but now semi-erect for all the right reasons.

“I think he could use a morning wake up call too.” He said.

She grinned, pathetically pleased.

Anything was better than nothing.

“How would he like to be woken ?”

“Nothing too strenuous. How about you just give him a little phone call ?”

She knelt by the side of the bed again and lowered her head to his waist. As sexily as possible, she trailed her wet tongue across the line of his hips into his thick pubic tangle, then drew him into her mouth, tasting a few lingering bitter drops.

He sighed, settled lower on the bed, and she felt his fingers winding themselves into strands of her hair.

She worked in silence, doing it just as he liked. The other men in her life had been grateful for any-old-how, but he insisted on her going ‘back to the design stage’, to learn exactly what he wanted a blowjob to be.

Long, full, rhythmic strokes, her lips tight, but not sucking too hard, using her tongue as a replica thumb to tease the veined shaft. It wasn’t easy. But then, she’d had a lot of practice since she’d met him.

She ignored the churning gurgle in her ear as she worked. His stomach was rumbling and then another loud fart exploded inches from her head. As ever, he was completely shameless, merely sighing contentedly on the pillow.

Her neck started to tire and her jaw ached. But she kept her banned fingers away. She was only allowed to use her hands if he said so. Her lips made a vulgar slurping noise as she sucked a bit too hard.

His fingers tightened their grip on her coiffed hair.

“Careful !” he admonished. “Use your fingers now.”

Gratefully, she slid her slender right fist round his glistening shaft.

“Lick my prostate.” He murmured.

She shifted position, sliding over, in between his legs, still stroking his erection rhythmically, bending her head so her tongue could lather his balls, then down into his moist crack.

“Mmm … deeper.”

She knew the signs. His breathing quickened, his muscles tensed, his penis pulsed, and then he started to chuckle.

She couldn’t see but she could feel jet after jet, while she buried her tongue as far as she could inside him, rubbing her nose against his prostate.

After a half minute or so, he released her hair. Without being asked, she placed a trail of kisses up from his anus, over his scrotum, along the heavy vein of his erection, and then she surveyed the fan-shaped splatter of pearly oyster fluid, streaks running from his abdomen up to his pectorals, and two copious pools in his chest and navel.

“May I ?” she asked, convincingly.

He raised his head and opened one eye, gloating proudly at the mess he had made. He nodded disinterestedly.

Slowly, she lowered her lips.

She grimaced under her fringe. However long this went on, she would never get to like the taste. Or the texture. Just because she was submissive, just because she did whatever he told her, didn’t mean she had to enjoy it.

She had never come across a man who produced so much. Not that she was an expert, by any means; six boyfriends in nineteen years and she hadn’t even sucked off all of those. But she had checked out the men in the handful of XXX ‘come shot’ films that she’d watched with him. George was, by a distance, the most prolific sperm machine she had seen.

In spite of her distaste, probably because of it, she could feel her own hard nipples brushing against his skin, her heat below open and moist in longing for something, anything, to release her sexual need.

Within two minutes, his washboard torso shone clean.

“Oh, man.” He said, clambering out of bed. “That coffee worked a treat.”

He pulled the bathroom door semi-closed. She heard him bang the seat cover up. She wiped her lips dry cautiously and started straightening the bed. There was a grunt from the bathroom.

“Hey !” he called out. “You got paid yesterday, right ?”

“Yes.”

“Yahoo.” He exclaimed, against the background noise of bathroom ablutions. “Any news on your bonus yet ?”

“No. Next month.”

“Shit !”

She plumped up the pillows, still making the bed.

“I hope you don’t need much yourself this month.” He called out.

She squeezed her eyes shut. This was so hard.

“Er … no. That’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Good. I don’t want to have to pimp you out.”

It was his idea of a joke. There was an audible chuckle.

A minute later she heard the toilet roll holder whirling, and the sound of tissue being ripped off. Then a repeat. Then a third time, followed by the seat slamming down and then a gush of tap water from the basin.

She waited for the sound of the flush. In vain.

He came out grinning, drying his hands on a towel.

She held open his dressing gown for him and he shucked one arm in, then the other. She tied it tight round him.

“Let’s go make a transfer.”

 

*** *** ***

 

Naturally, he knew her account details and PIN code, but he still liked her to do it. She logged on and brought up her balances. There it was, her new current account balance, plump with this month’s salary credit.

He eased her out of the chair and took her place.

“Go make me another coffee and a bacon sandwich.”

She watched him out of the corner of her eye while the water boiled and she placed the bacon under the grill. He jotted on a pad and tapped the calculator on her desk. She knew he was leaving her enough for the monthly standing orders and bills plus a modest daily amount hopefully sufficient for her travel to work and a bite of lunch.

The remainder: kapow !

She took the mug of coffee over on a tray.

He smiled up at her. A guilty, amused smirk.

She saw immediately why. He had raided her deposit account too. Cleaned it out. Her ‘rainy day’ fund.

“George !”

A dark cloud scudded across his handsome face in an instant.

“Yes ?”

Immediately she backtracked. “Sorry, it’s just …”

There was a long silence.

“It’s just for one month.” He said, matter-of-factly. “There’s stuff I need now. But so long as you get a big enough bonus next month, we’ll put some of it back in your little old deposit account. Right ?”

She lowered her head, steeling herself.

“Sure.”

He laughed, patting her on the bottom.

“Now mix yourself a breakfast smoothie, yeah ?”

She gulped.

“Make it nice and strong. Say, two thirds, one third. I want to see it before you drink it. And don’t burn my bacon.”

 

 

He was in his email account when she brought over his sandwich.

He minimised the screen so she couldn’t read it.

“Show me.” He said.

She held up the tall glass tumbler, full to the brim. She had blended the entire jug of his morning urine with plain yoghurt in a ratio of two parts to one, all frothed up in the liquidiser. The mix was as unappetising as it sounds.

“Offer me your cunt while you guzzle your breakfast down.”

She stood, wide legged, holding her robe apart with her hands, then put the glass to her lips and tipped her head back.

He studied her, nonchalantly taking a bite of his sandwich, fingering her open with his left hand. She choked slightly on her drink as his middle finger brushed her clitoris.

She managed to drain it in one swig, blanking her mind, swallowing it down, and then wiped the froth from her lips.

She showed him the empty glass.

He grinned. “Regrets ?”

She shook her head. “None.”

A question flashed through her mind; the truth ?

“This is going to be a special weekend.” He said, lightly rubbing circles round her engorged clit, his dark eyes smiling up at her in amusement.

She couldn’t help frowning slightly. “Thank you … Sir.”

He removed his finger agonisingly slowly. Her hips followed momentarily as if attached to his hand by an invisible cord. He gave her a sly smirk.

“Look at you, you filthy cumslut.”

He stared at her shiny residue on his fingertip.

“We’re going to test your limits this weekend. Or would you rather we stop this all right now and I get out your life for good ?”

She bit her lip. Could she truly answer that question ? Even before she’d finished asking herself she knew the answer.

“No.” she blurted. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

He looked at her for thirty seconds, munching on his sandwich. Then, just for a brief second, his dark eyes brightened mischievously, like the reflection of a full moon rippling on a lake at midnight.

“Remember, whatever I say, whatever I do, it will be in character. I won’t mean it. Underneath it all, I love you. Carry that thought.”

Her heart leapt. Quaking, she nodded, as his facemask turned cold again.

“Then get yourself upstairs and run my bath.”

She dipped her head again hurriedly, closing her robe.

“And clean out that lavatory pan.” He added. “Without flushing.”

 

She deserved this.

Not in any fundamental way. She was too intelligent to think that she was inferior as a human being. No, she deserved this because she was weak enough to give in to her cravings. Like a nicotine or booze, drugs or gambling addict, she had to pay for her addiction.

She stared down. Like his earlier orgasm, he had produced an impressive display; there was a thick mush of soggy tissue and excrement filling the bottom of the pan. But he had also made sure to splatter the back and sides of the toilet with heavy brown brush strokes.

She was armed with her bare hands, two plastic buckets and an old toothbrush of hers. Holding her breath, she lowered an arm into the pan and scooped up a handful of the soggy mush. Controlling her urge to vomit, she carefully lifted it and dropped it into one of the buckets by her knees.

“Smile.”

She looked up as his mobile phone clicked.

“Nice one.” He said, looking at the photo.

She stifled her objection and lowered her arm into the pan again. She felt him watching her as she transferred second, third and fourth loads into the bucket. Then she heard him turn off the bath taps himself and check the water temperature with his swirling hand.

“Hurry up. That’s making quite a stink.”

She quickly scooped up the remaining mush two-handed as he settled back into the hot bath with a sigh.

Next she gripped the toothbrush and began scouring the sides of the porcelain. Again, she sensed his eyes on her back as she laboriously removed his drying tyre marks. She dipped the brush in the pan water and scrubbed, dipped and scrubbed, working frantically.

“Finished ?”

“Nearly.”

“Fucking hurry up.”

Eventually everything was clean but for the filthy brown water. She washed her hands and then filled the second bucket with clean cold water from the basin and emptied it into the pan as a manual flush.

She checked. It was almost clean. She filled the bucket with water again and added a splash of green pine essence for fragrance. He liked it to be spick, span and scented before he used it again.

This time, after she’d emptied it into the pan, the white porcelain gleamed.

“I’ve finished.”

She looked at him lying back in the steaming bathwater.

“Take that bucket out to the shed. But don’t empty it.”

As she went downstairs to the back door, she shivered with apprehension. Toilet games did nothing for her. She put up with them at best. She knew his scatological desires ran much deeper than hers.

Back in the bathroom, he smiled at her.

“I want a special dinner tonight.”

She perked up. Cooking for him was something she truly enjoyed. It was subservient in a way, but also rewarding, and relaxing after her working week.

“You choose the menu but make it the best. Buy the ingredients, spend the day preparing, I’ll be back about six.”

Her mood changed again.

He was going out all day.

“Table for two. Candles, linen, glasses. Get us some nice wine.”

He chuckled as her frown turned into a smile. She knew he could read her like a book. He lent forward in the bath.

“Come soap my back.”

At that moment, his cell phone started blaring out a bass guitar solo; the famous intro to ‘Smoke on the Water’.

“Pass it here.” He said, wiping his hands on a towel.

She watched him survey the caller number and smile.

“Hi.” He said into the phone. “How’re you feeling babe?”

She started busying herself, picking up his bathrobe from the floor.

“Me too. Rough as hell. Shouldn’t have had that last one. But I’m feeling better now.”

There was a pause while he listened.

“Sure. What time ? … Fine. Noon it is.”

Another, longer pause.

“Hey, great idea. We’ll have a party …. yeah, she loves parties.”

She felt his eyes on her back as she put paste on her toothbrush.

“Okay. Can’t wait. I’m stiff already. Bye babe … bye.”

She turned back to take the phone from him.

“Right.” He said, clambering out of the bath. “Gotta move. Take what you need from my wallet. Three twenties. Sixty quid enough ?”

She draped the huge white bath towel round him.

“Oh yeah. And make that a table for three tonight.”

 

*** *** ***

 

Six o’clock came and went. He was never on time.

She had spent all eight hours preparing. First showering, dressing and applying a bit of mascara, then walking to the local shops, buying fresh seafood, beef, vegetables, salad, bread, butter, cream, other ingredients, two bottles of white wine and a special red. Then hours cutting, dicing, marinading, slicing, laying the table, arranging flowers, making it all as perfect as she could.

At five, she had showered again and changed. She hadn’t been given guidance about what to wear. She chose a sexy black cocktail dress, with black lingerie underneath, stockings, heels and her diamond earrings. She brushed her hair carefully and reapplied her mascara, adding blush and a dash of lipstick. Then she placed the white wine in an ice bucket, uncorked the red and stared at the kitchen clock.

Each minute dragged by. She longed for, yet dreaded, his arrival. Would he be alone ?

Was it all a wind up ?

Or would he be accompanied ?

What would she be like ?

Oh shit, she longed for a drink to calm her nerves. But he didn’t allow her to drink alcohol unless invited.

There was a noise of the doorstep. The bell rang. He had his keys with him but as usual hadn’t bothered using them.

She opened the door.

And there stood the most stunning blonde girl she had ever seen.

Toni gasped.

The girl tilted her head to one side, an amused smile on her face.

“Toni, right ?”

She nodded. The girl was like something out of Baywatch. A blonde bombshell of bronze, blue and boobs. Twenty, maybe twenty one at most.

“I’m Jess.”

Toni shook her head to clear it, turning the gesture into a welcoming nod.

“Hi. I’m sorry. Come in.”

The girl’s hair was the colour and gloss of melting butter, the eyes as blue as a Moroccan sky, the bronze glow looked a natural suntan, and the cleavage was displayed like two weapons of mass distinction.

Jess caught Toni’s gaze. She giggled.

“Oh yes. Thanks. I love it.”

There was a necklace. Lifted from Toni’s jewellery pot the day before.

Toni ushered her into the front room.

“I’m … er … glad you like it. Er … is George … ?”

“Isn’t he here yet ?”

Jess dropped her bag and jumped back into the sofa as if she owned the place. She was wearing a tight, low cut top, fashionable denim jeans and a pair of strappy, fuck-me sandals.

“No.”

“Get me a drink, yeah ? I’m parched.” In spite of her looks, Jess was no Californian beach babe. The accent was Thames Estuary; straight middle class, south east England.

Toni swallowed. “Sure. White wine okay ?”

“Whatever.”

Toni staggered into the kitchen. She rushed to open the bottle and pour a glass, afraid to leave the invader alone for too long.

“Here.”

Jess took the glass and drained it half empty in one gulp.

She looked at her.

“You not drinking ? …. Oh no, he doesn’t let you, does he ?”

Toni blushed.

Jess flashed a smile. A glare of brilliant white teeth.

But her blue eyes didn’t sparkle at all.

“You really do everything he says ?”

There was a long silence. How did this happen so fast ?

“Yes.” She sighed.

“And he said you’d do everything I say too.”

“He did ?”

Jess fished out a cell phone. “You wanna call and check ?”

It was a dare. Both of them knew he’d be pissed off.

Toni shook her head, lowering her eyes.

“Fill my glass.”

When she returned, Jess had laid down full length, feet up, on the sofa.

“Lift up the hem of your dress.”

Slowly, screwing her eyes shut, Toni obeyed.

“Look at me, bitch.”

She stared down at the perfect little evil tormentor.

Jess reached out and pushed aside the gusset of Toni’s panties. The girl’s sharp, red talon burrowed inside her labia.

“He said it’s two weeks since you last came ?”

She took another deep breath and nodded. “Yes.”

“Fuuuuck ! You’re not kidding ? You really don’t diddle your hot little clam when he’s not around ?”

Indignant, she shook her head.

Jess burst out laughing. An unkind, bullying, hyena-like bray.

“Sick, sick, sick. But …” she shrugged, “… such fun !”

 

Toni showed her round the house; dining room, kitchen, main bedroom, ensuite bathroom, spare bedroom, shower room. His office and the box room were still locked.

Jess nosed everywhere, picking things up, looking in drawers. She patted the double bed and opened the cupboard on Toni’s side of the bed.

“I’ve seen it all before.” She said. “But it’s nice to have the lady of the house take me round.” She said ‘lady of the house’ with a sarcastic sneer.

There was the sound of the key in the front door lock.

“Hi !” It was a familiar American accent. “Anyone home ?”

“We’re upstairs.” Jess called back before Toni could reply.

“Already ?” he replied, with a laugh.

She followed Jess down the staircase.

And there, standing in the hall, was George, alongside a young, dark skinned man. He looked Indian. On second thoughts, Arab or North African. He was early twenties, with gold rimmed spectacles, thinning hair and a pudgy, slightly geeky appearance.

She dug her nails into the palms of her hands to control herself.

What’s going on ?

“Bonsoir, ladies.” Said George with a mock bow. “You’ve met.”

Jess gave Toni a sideways glance. “Oh yes … we’re friends already.”

It was evident Jess knew the other man too. She kissed him on the cheek.

“Hassan, Toni.” George said. “Toni, meet our friend Hassan.”

He held out an elegant, effeminate brown hand. It was surprisingly thin for a boy who was plump and clearly somewhat overweight. Toni held out hers and he took it, raising it to his mouth, brushing it with his lips.

“Enchanted.” He said, his liquid brown eyes like chocolate.

“Let’s go sit in the living room. Toni, fetch us drinks, yeah ?”

 

A table for three indeed !

She spent the next hour serving drinks and cooking the meal, then the following two hours serving it, while replenishing their wine glasses, and washing up.

Only Hassan paid her any attention, saying thank you, acknowledging her presence, leaning aside when she cleared the plates.

To George and Jess she may just as well not have been there.

“We’ll have coffee and drinks in the other room.” George announced, his first words to her in three hours. Not once had he commented on the meal or anything.

After they were sat comfortably and she had poured them coffees, whiskies, and wine for Jess, Toni hovered in the doorway.

Jess had snuggled up next to George, his arm around her, on the sofa. Hassan was sat demurely in the best armchair.

“Hungry ?” Jess asked her.

Toni nodded. She hadn’t eaten since a snack at lunchtime.

“Bring a plate of scraps through.” Jess instructed.

Toni blanched. This was going too far.

“Look … I …”

She struggled for words.

Jess shrugged, looking up at George.

“I told you. She’s not committed. Let’s go. Get your stuff.”

George shifted on the sofa.

“Wait !” She gasped. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

In the kitchen, she patted cold water on the back of her neck and took some deep breaths, then scooped up a plateful of leftovers; bits from the seafood starter, fat bits they’d left from the beef, a muck of cold veg and salad and curdled sauce from their plates.

She carried the plate into the room.

“Lay it here, between my feet.” Jess said, beaming.

George was smirking too, happy to relax and let his bitch take over.

“Get down on all fours.”

She complied, descending into a deeper sub-space than she’d ever been before. The heat from her embarrassed cheeks travelled down her body to her guts like a scalding drink.

She stared at the yucky plate nestled between the girl’s strappy sandals.

“Arse in the air. Head down. Eat ! And no hands.”

Hiding her grimace, she lowered her lips to a cold prawn.

Suddenly, soft music filled the room. George had clicked on one of her jazz CDs. Hassan asked him a question. George replied.

She chewed the prawn, then ate a bit of beansprout. They were ignoring her, talking amongst themselves, maybe not even watching.

Over the music, she heard their conversation. It had turned to a familiar topic; sex. She heard kisses, a giggle, George and Jess frisking on the sofa.

“Really ?” Jess shrieked. “Never ?”

Hassan’s soft voice protested. “It’s not so easy for us. Girls don’t sleep with anybody before marriage. Well, very few do, except hookers.”

“So it’s not just because you’re tubby, my fat friend ?” George laughed.

“That’s rude !” Jess giggled.

“No.” Hassan protested pleasantly. “Our women like fat. It’s associated with wealth and comfort.”

Toni nibbled, and licked, and listened, feeling like dirt.

Suddenly Jess’s sandal prodded her.

“Hey. You want us to stay or leave ?”

Toni looked up. “To stay … please.”

“In that case,” the girl flashed her perfect white teeth triumphantly, “get up and remove that dress.”

Toni looked from her to George and back. It was do, or die.

Slowly, she rose, stood, and as proudly as possible, unzipped her dress and then lifted it up over her head and placed it on a chair.

She stood in the centre of the room in just her black underwear, stockings and heels. Normally she was quite satisfied with her own breasts but they were nothing compared to Jess’s spectacular display.

She felt Hassan’s eyes on her and saw him smile sheepishly.

“Lose the panties.” Said Jess, staring coldly at her.

She couldn’t do that !

She thumbed her waistband and slowly lowered her pants, stepping out of them and placing them by her dress.

“Cute.” Jess observed. “I’d say past her ‘best by’ date and a bit rough round the edges, but still cute. What do you reckon, Hassan ?”

“Enchanted. Cute indeed.”

“Go over to Hassan and let him feel you.”

In a trance, she staggered over to his chair and stood, legs apart.

Slowly, like a brown snake, his arm reached out and hovered by her hip. Then his hand touched her leg, sending electric shocks round her entire body. She whimpered a tiny moan.

He smiled at her, paused then, emboldened, his soft fingers traced a line up to her waist, over her tummy to her bra. He fingered her breasts one by one, rubbing his thumb through the lace over her hardening nipples.

At the edge of her vision, she could see George and Jess in a deep embrace, their tongues entwined. But Jess’s blue eyes were still glancing over George’s shoulder at her and Hassan.

Hassan’s fingers moved lower, back down to her waist, and then lower.

“Legs wider.” Jess called out, coming up for air.

Toni spread herself obscenely.

Hassan raised an eyebrow up at her and grinned. He lifted his other arm and used both hands to hold apart the lips of her vagina. He used his thumbs and forefingers to spread her and then peered inside.

“Serves the purpose, my friend.”

The voice was George’s, evaluating her like some blow up sex doll.

She felt Hassan’s fingers sliding over her slick folds.

“She’s very wet.”

“That’s nothing.” George said.

“Go sit in that chair.” Said Jess, jumping up excitedly.

The room contained the sofa and armchair that the others were sat in, plus a pair of high backed chairs, one of which she had laid her dress and panties on. Finally, next to the TV, there was a second armchair, with a rattan back and wooden arms.

She sat down on the armchair’s plump cushion.

Jess fished in her bag and extracted a long piece of plastic.

“Sit back.” Jess pushed her down into the chair. “Legs over the sides of the arms.”

Toni lay as if she was on her gynaecologist’s table, legs in stirrups. She stared at the huge, flesh coloured vibrator Jess was brandishing. She owned one that she had purchased before she met George. It was a standard, nice sized Rabbit.

The one Jess held was something else entirely; completely oversized, both long and thick, with exaggerated ridges round the middle of the shaft and a band of protruding rubber pinpricks at the base, just above the battery handle.

“Bought today, in Soho, with you in mind dear.” Jess said, licking her lips. “With your own cash ! Expensive. But you’re worth it.”

She stared at it. Mesmerised. Where would it all go ?

Jess seemed to read her mind.

“Well, let’s see shall we ?”

Toni gasped as Jess applied the crown to her drooling labia.

“No need for any lube, is there ?”

The first inches slid in easily. Toni flushed with shame. Not just with embarrassment at the act but in how easily she had absorbed the monstrous helmet.

Jess nodded, clearly impressed. “You sure you haven’t had kids ?”

The ridges were more difficult. Each was slightly thicker than the previous one. Toni gasped and grimaced as her body struggled to accept more than it ever had before.

She suddenly became aware of both men standing above her, grinning down interestedly, faces either side of Jess’s look of concentration.

“Half way there.” Jess announced.

Was that a joke ? Toni could judge length and surely way more than that was already inside her. Or was her brain scrambled ? She couldn’t think straight.

The relentless, slow penetration continued to the sultry jazz music.

“Aaaggh …” she gasped, wincing at a dagger of discomfort. She could feel the end of the vibrator pushing hard against something inside her.

“Steady now.” Jess chuckled. “Not much to go.”

“Please …” she heard her own frail voice somewhere, objecting.

“Look at that boys.” Jess said, proudly, wiping her forehead. “That’s the full twelve inches inside. What a fucking tramp.”

“No wonder I prefer her mouth and arse.” George frowned.

She shrieked as the vibrator buzzed into life. The shaft started churning and the pinpricks at the base twisted in a counter direction. Jess pulled it several inches out and then thrust it back in to the hilt.

Toni wailed.

“Too rough ?” Jess asked. “Okay. You do it to yourself while we watch.” She reached for Toni’s hand and guided it down to the handle of the vibrator. “That’s it. You ram it in and out, nice and deep.”

Instantly it felt better. With control, she could mix the right blend of pain and pleasure, and within seconds she was building to a climax.

Her eyes exploded open. “Muh … may … I … ?”

“Certainly not.” Jess snarled. “Control yourself !”

Toni gasped in frustration and twisted the vibrator inside her so that it lost contact with her clitoris. She dragged the pins to increase the pain level and reduce the pleasure, driving her impending orgasm back.

George was grinning down at her. Hassan was nowhere to be seen.

Jess was unbuckling George’s belt, dragging his shirt out of his jeans.

Toni stared up at them, mouth sagging open, realising she was going to be cuckolded here and now by her boyfriend and his beautiful bitch.

Fuck. Emotional agony on top of physical pain and sexual stimulation nearly drove her over the abyss again.

Then, suddenly, there was a brown fist above her face. And a brown cock. And, before she had time to react to what was happening, ropes of warm, sticky fluid were uncoiling over her face, into her gasping mouth, cascading onto her cheeks and forehead.

Everybody was laughing. Hassan had dumped his load onto her. George’s cell phone camera clicked.

The shame was too much.

She would have lost control and come, regardless, except for Jess slapping her pumping hand away and pulling the vibrator out in one long, smooth action. There was an obscene, slurping noise.

“Please …” she begged, helpless, in a wheezing trance.

She heard the crack, like an echo, and only later felt the hot pain as a hand smacked her bottom painfully. It brought her round.

“No way, old lady.” Jess muttered. “Not yet.”

 

*** *** ***

 

Even though she tried to shut her eyes, she couldn’t. The distorted view was too mesmerising and, besides, she could hear, smell and sense everything. Just two inches above her face, her boyfriend’s full blooded shaft was pounding in and out of Jess’s gripping, slippery vagina, as the two of them gasped and grunted in pre-orgasmic ecstasy.

Only ten minutes after Hassan had left, Toni had been tied to the four corners of her own double bed, face up and spread eagled with her ankles strapped to the headboard and her wrists fastened to the posts at the bottom of the bed.

Jess was like a dog on all fours astride Toni’s face and George knelt behind her, both of them ignoring Toni completely.

For the moment she was just a sheet on the bed to them.

She studied Jess’s labia as they welcomed and released, welcomed and released, the heady scent of sweaty sex almost intoxicating, the slap-slap of flesh on flesh like voodoo drums. Jess’s pubic hair was soft and blonde, trimmed to a tiny tuft, with a gold stud in her navel and a ‘Sweet Bitch’ tattoo on her perfect buttocks.

“Yessssssss ….”

Toni heard Jess hiss and saw her young, fit muscles tensing up.

George groaned in unison, his pumping harder but shallower, his penis not wanting to leave its welcoming home.

“Yes … Yes … Yes … Mmmmmmm …”

“Come … baby, come … fuck aaaaaahhhh …”

They both climaxed in a noisy, extended, simultaneous orgasm, frozen in their own epic moments, but entwined in mutual satisfaction.

“Phew !” George exhaled eventually, easing his erection from her.

“Mmm … that was gooooooood …” Jess responded.

Toni watched his glistening dick twitch above her face momentarily, a globule of pearly semen hanging from the tip by a thread.

George turned and looked down at her, giving a wink.

“Mmm …” Jess groaned unhappily, “put it back …”

He laughed. “Horny thing. You’ll have to wait a bit.”

There was a silence for a few seconds.

Toni adjusted her eyes to the light and squinted at the oozing, open gash above her as it was briefly raised up a few inches.

“Why wait ?” Jess giggled. “I wanna try something new.”

Toni watched as Jess’s right hand curled down between her legs and fingered open her labia. Then, slowly the light went dark again.

She had never felt a lesbian urge, never even the curiosity to try.

But she opened her lips and stuck out her tongue as Jess lowered her thighs and plonked her messy mound on her like a rain soaked flower.

“Yes …” Jess hooted above her in triumph.

She pushed her tongue to meet with Jess’s ripe clitoris.

“Clean me out you slut.”

Second hand gloop mixed with female secretions tasted no better to her than first hand semen straight from the source. But she lapped and guzzled as gravity turned the trickle into a steady stream.

“Now try this for size.”

Above her, Jess shifted her hips forwards so that her taut buttocks swivelled and she lowered them onto Toni’s sopping face. After a few moments, Jess stopped supporting her weight and allowed her cheeks to envelop Toni’s nose, making her gasp for air.

She felt fingers probing at her own sore, still frustrated vagina, nails pinching her labial lips, making her wince.

“Get your tongue right up in there lady, no slacking.”

She pushed her tongue in as far as it would go and used it like a ramrod, in-out, in-out, gagging for breath and trying not to panic.

Please, I can’t take much more of this, physically or emotionally.

Thankfully, Jess shifted back into her previous position, clit poised an inch above Toni’s nose, petals smeared and splayed.

“Make me come … quick.” The order was urgent, needy.

Some little perverted spark in Toni’s brain felt better, pleased even, that she had a modicum of control back. This girl needed her for satisfaction.

It took only seconds, a few, extended languid licks the full length up to her clit, and Jess let out her telltale hiss.

“Yessssssss ….”

Toni completed the job, trying to ignore her own desire that had now climbed back up to peak level.

“Mmm … nghnghngh …”

Jess seemed to climax with even more intensity than she had earlier.

Toni felt Jess’s fingers probing her again and, for one gorgeous moment, thought that maybe her time had come at last.

But Jess knelt up and peered down into Toni’s blinking eyes.

“No way, old lady.” Jess chuckled. “Not yet.”

 

*** *** ***

 

She was allowed to brush her teeth and use the toilet.

Jess surveyed her while Toni sat and urinated, an amused smirk on her face. George had gone downstairs to lock up and turn the lights out.

“You enjoying this ?”

Yes. But not you, you silly little bitch.

She shrugged. “It … is quite intense.”

“Ooo … quite intense … you use fancy words for a slut, don’t you.”

Toni reached for toilet tissue to dry herself.

“Leave that alone ! Paper’s too good for you. And I want you to know that tomorrow is going to get a whole lot more fucking … intense.”

Toni stood slowly. “Why … do you dislike me so much ?”

The girl made a face like ‘duh’, what a stupid question.

“You ? I don’t give a shit about you. It’s him I want. Your boyfriend.”

Toni stared in silence.

“Now, let’s get you tucked up for the night. Follow me.”

They went to the spare room. ‘Her room’. There was a single bed with just a mattress; no sheets, blankets or pillow. The bed was a cheap pine one, with slatted head and footboards.

“Get on there.”

Toni lay cautiously on the bed and stretched her arms and legs into position as Jess used BDSM ‘play cuffs’, a ‘leg spreader’ and a ball of twine to tie her tightly into position.

George appeared in the doorway in his robe, looking like an Olympic swimmer about to mount the medal podium.

“All done ?”

Jess tugged on each knot and then stood up.

“In a minute. You go get into bed.”

George disappeared from view and padded down the corridor.

Jess looked round guiltily.

“Open wide”. She took a roll of black tape from her bathrobe pocket. Or rather, Toni’s bathrobe, which she was borrowing.

Nervously, Toni opened her jaws.

Jess sat down by the side of her head and removed lacy white panties from her other pocket.

“I bought this along just for you.”

Jess flicked the panties open inside out and revealed a dark pink stain in the front gusset and an almost black skidmark in the back. Slowly, she balled the cloth and placed it inside Toni’s mouth, then wedged it down firmly.

Toni couldn’t help but vomit up a tiny squirt of bile into the cloth, which then burned its way back down her throat.

Jess quickly sealed a long strip of the black duct tape over Toni’s lips.

“There we are. That’s better.”

Her blue eyes stared down at Toni until she quietened. Then, with a savage snarl, she tore another piece of black tape off the roll and held it poised threateningly over Toni’s nose.

“Fancy breathing tonight ?”

Toni nodded frantically, mewling helplessly.

Jess grinned at her. “Then here’s the deal. Tomorrow you put up with whatever he and I care to do to you. Got that ?”

Toni moved her head up and down in agreement.

“It won’t be pleasant, I can assure you.”

Again, Toni indicated she understood.

“Then when tomorrow evening comes, you tell him that it was all too much for you and you would like him out of your life. Forever.”

Fuck you.

“Understood ? Or do I have to explain.” She lent forward and pinched Toni’s nostrils closed with her fingers.

Slowly, wincing with pain, Toni nodded, wetness rimming her eyes.

Equally slowly, Jess let go, and put the tape back in her pocket.

“I’m glad we have an agreement. And make any mention of this little chat tomorrow and I shall really fuck you up soooo badly.”

 

*** *** ***

 

Toni knew that being left like she had been was dangerous. She was cold, uncovered, uncomfortable and incommunicado.

Breathing with the panties in her mouth was easy but unnatural. Sleep would be near impossible.

She lay there, in the dark, wondering how things had suddenly got so out of hand.

She liked games, hard games, alone with George. Of course she did. And even the idea of involving third parties, not just as his lovers, but them actually present, had made her hot. She could even put up with the humiliation of being wanked over by a stranger if that was what her boyfriend enjoyed putting her through. But where had this monster come from ? This girl who had uncaringly trampled through one of Toni’s limits without asking, giving her disgusting stained knickers to suck on through the night.

She shivered and almost gagged on the material packed in her mouth.

And yet ? How she wished she could stroke herself, bring herself off.

She compressed her inner thighs as far as the leg spreader would allow but felt little. Certainly not enough to reach an orgasm.

A tiny, nasty germ deep inside told her she was … yes … enjoying this. If you are going to blow your limits you may as well do it in style. She had always wanted to experience humiliation, submission, on a grand scale. This was going to be it. And if she really had to lose him, then what a way to go ! She could relive this weekend in her mind as she sat with some future boring accountant husband and watched the sun set on a Caribbean cruise in her sixties. Fantasy was one thing but few people lived something as extreme as these next 24 hours seemed likely to be.

 

She woke in the dark. She must have finally drifted off. She’d been dreaming; a rambling nightmare of female vampires and ghosts in a churchyard and a tombstone with George’s name on it.

There was somebody in the room. What time was it ?

A hand touched her leg and fumbled its way up her body.

She could tell it was female. The bed creaked and she sensed Jess climbing over her body, knees settling in the gaps by her armpits.

A titter.

“I shouldn’t have drunk so much wine.”

Without warning, a torrent of hot rain showered Toni’s face, hair and upper body. She gasped, unable to breath as it deluged her nostrils, burning back into her mouth through her sinuses. The shower continued unabated for what seemed like at least a minute.

At last, she felt Jess clambering back off the bed.

Another titter.

“That’s better.” Footsteps. “Sleep tight.”

 

*** *** ***

 

This time it was light when she woke. The brightness of the sun slicing through the gap in the curtains suggested it was quite late.

She raised her head off the damp mattress. Her door was wide open.

She heard a noise, a muffled sound. Then another. It was unmistakeable. The distinctive reverberations of two people having uninhibited sex; squeaking springs, groans and moans, occasional words and rhythm changes.

She lay there and listened. Almost immediately her own sex started responding to the sounds, her humiliation and imagination.

By the time Jess sidled up to the open doorway, Toni was clammy and urgent with need herself. This had gone on too long.

“Morning. Cat got your tongue ?”

She nodded in an attempt not to seem rude and thus annoy Jess.

“My, your ex-boyfriend’s got a lovely, insatiable dick, hasn’t he ?”

She walked over to the bed, opened the robe and presented her gaping and well battered vagina to Toni.

“Look ! Even more than last night !”

Jess dipped her index finger in and scooped out a dollop.

“Mmm …”

She pushed her finger into Toni’s right nostril, plugging it up.

“I’ve had an idea.”

Toni looked at her, trying to snort up the semen to clear her nose.

“You’re going to fall for Hassan instead.”

What !

“Yes. Today you’re going to suck and fuck Hassan and George is going to watch and think, do I want this raddled old tart as my girlfriend ?”

She giggled at Toni.

“You make it easy for him; a choice between a beautiful, sexy girl his own age who will be faithful. Or, a has-been whore who drinks his piss, but is also likely to drink the piss of every other person who comes calling.”

She put her whole hand under her middle and grimaced, squeezing her vaginal muscles until her pretty, suntanned cheeks were puce and a pool of semen filled the palm of her hand.

“Let’s sign our agreement shall we ?”

Her hand smeared the liquid all over Toni’s neck, face and hair.

 

*** *** ***

 

Toni was dressed in just a waist apron, otherwise naked, serving them breakfast at the table; coffee, juice, croissants, fruit and champagne.

George was showing Jess the collection of snaps he’d collected on his phone.

“Wow ! I love that one.”

“Yesterday morning.” He replied, as she held it up to see better.

“You can see in the background. What a great shot. Look, there, in the toilet, you can see your poo stuck on the sides. Amazing.”

Toni remained silent, refilling George’s coffee cup.

“Let’s email them to some people.” Jess enthused.

George laughed. “Er … I don’t think so. This is a game we play, that’s all. And why jeopardise her life when I live off her ?”

That’s it. Tell the silly cow.

Toni silently topped up Jess’s cup as well.

But Jess didn’t give up so easily.

“But you don’t have to actually email them out. Just set things up so you could. One twitch on a key and, kaboom, bye bye to her respectability. I think you would find that would be a useful bargaining tool in eradicating any last limits or laziness in your … er … girlfriend.”

George sipped his coffee. “Mmm … just blackmail, eh ?”

“Look at her.” They both glanced up at Toni. “Look at that insolent expression. You’ve told me there are things you want to do to her that are off limits. Well, I say, fuck limits. Use a bit of blackmail.”

George paused a moment then broke into a handsome smile.

And yet … behind the gorgeous grin … she noticed something else. A strange, calculating look in his dark eyes, a frightening coldness.

“Gotcha.” He said.

 

Toni was finishing doing the washing up when Hassan arrived. Jess let him in and called her over to take his coffee order; black, three sugars.

When she brought back the coffee, Jess and Hassan were deep in whispered conversation.

“I’m going back to help George in his office.” Jess said. “Hassan, you stay here and keep Toni … company.”

After she had left, Hassan smiled sheepishly at Toni. He looked worse than the previous night; unshaven, thinning hair awry, wearing a tight black shirt that exaggerated his paunch.

“I hear we have a deal.”

We do ?

“I think that your friend has …” Toni replied to him, as pleasantly as she could, “… misunderstood the parameters of this thing.”

He shook his head from side to side.

“No. I think it’s you who have misunderstood the parameters. Miss … Creative Director … at a well known fashion label !”

She gawped at him. Would they stoop so low ?

“What d… do you mean ?”

He leered victoriously, sliding his hand over her naked breast.

“Do what I want and you won’t have to find out what I mean.”

He looked down ever so slowly so that she followed his gaze. Then, equally slowly, he unzipped the fly of his trousers.

“You can have the honour of giving me my first ever blowjob.”

If I make a run for it where will I go ? What will I do ?

She sunk down dejectedly onto her knees and used her fingers to undo his belt, button and zip, and then eased his trousers over his hips. His white underpants were grubby. She could see his erection growing, tenting the yellow stained front of his underwear. Slowly, she tugged them down and his brown penis jerked straight, right in front of her face.

She had never been with anybody but white men before. All English and one Scot, before George. His brown penis was okay in its own right, but a bit thin, and overall meagre compared with her boyfriend’s totem.

He sat down in a chair, spreading his legs wide in that casual, male manner. His chubby belly hung down unattractively.

“Let’s go, teacher.” He said.

She decided to get it over with as quickly as possible.

She knelt down in as subservient position as she could bear.

This man was not her Master.

Then she placed her right hand round his shaft and her lips over his helmet, letting her tongue dance to get him as hot and ready as she could. Soon she began to pump her hand to and fro.

He moved his fingers through her fringe so he could see her face.

“Look at me while you do it.”

She turned her eyes to look up at his jowls and slightly hooded brown eyes.

“You will do this again many times for me, white lady.”

Oh yeah ! He sounded like some Sheikh from a white slave porno fantasy. Get real you fucking perve.

He tasted of cloves and garlic. And that was before he’d come. She dreaded his spunk. Undoubtedly he’d expect her to swallow it, as all men seemed to.

She smiled enthusiastically, sliding her tongue along the underside vein, noting with obtuse satisfaction his shiver of enjoyment.

Come, you arsehole. Get it over with.

“Enough.” He suddenly announced. “We will save your throat for another time. Go and lean over that table.”

He wanted to fuck her, the fat shit.

Briefly, she thought of objecting because he hadn’t got a condom, but what the hell. Get it over with. Besides, based on what she’d heard last night, he was a virgin or near as damn it. Unlikely to be diseased.

She bent over the edge of the table and gripped the sides.

He clumsily took up position behind her and fumbled in between her thighs. She didn’t help. Do it yourself kiddo.

“Don’t you dare orgasm !” he said. “You are not to enjoy this.”

Too right. No danger of that.

He penetrated her although she barely felt him, wet, and accustomed as she was to George.

His hands reached round and started squeezing her boobs crudely.

And it was that that got to her. The image they made in her mind suddenly flicked a switch and she recognised the signs. Her cheeks flushed and her nipples hardened to his touch, and an extra dollop of moisture lubricated her inner walls for him.

No please. Not this. Not even this !

To complete her humiliation the door opened and there stood Jess and George watching, wry grins on their faces.

“Don’t let us interrupt.” Her boyfriend said as she was fucked.

She felt Hassan’s slobber drooling onto her back as he grunted in manic fashion, hammering out the final few blows to take him to orgasm.

She screwed her eyes shut in shame and then his hot fluid was within her and her inner walls felt his flesh pulsing in a series of squirts.

She grimaced in frustration, controlling her own impending climax, locking it back in its box, for later when her true love chose to release it.

“Thank you.” Hassan said lovingly, nuzzling her neck.

She snatched open her eyes. George and Jess had already gone.

 

*** *** ***

 

Toni ate her lunch from a bowl on the floor. She was starving and it was a helping of cold tinned beans and sausages with a side order of prunes and cabbages, all pulverised into mush in the liquidiser.

Jess, George and Hassan watched her eat while they sipped their own pre-lunch aperitifs of champagne and cassis. Jess snapped several photos with a small digital camera, some clearly displaying Toni’s face.

“Smile !” Jess said, as the flash popped.

Then Toni served them their own lunch of pasta and salad with ice cream and butterscotch to follow, washed down with red wine.

“Is it true that, in your home country, men love to screw women in their arses ?” Jess asked Hassan, when Toni was in earshot.

“My home country ! I was born in South London.” Hassan laughed.

“Okay. Your country of origin then, although that makes you sound like some manufactured product.”

He paused, then shrugged. “Don’t men like that anywhere ?”

“Not where I come from !” Jess replied.

“Toni takes it up the butt, don’t you doll ?” George said.

Three times ! In my life. To please you !

“I have done, yes.” She replied, topping up Jess’s wine glass.

“Why doesn’t she let Hassan try anal as well ?” Jess exclaimed.

There was an awkward silence, two, three, five seconds.

“Really ?” Hassan said, looking over at George, not Jess.

George shrugged at both of them, a strange look in his eyes. “Er … what does she think ?”

“Who gives a shit ? She’s your fucking slut.” Jess said, draining her glass.

“I will do whatever my Master tells me to.” Toni interjected.

George smiled up at her. Now his expression was deeply enigmatic.

“In that case, I would like to see Hassan fuck your arse after lunch.”

Damn, damn, damn !

She bowed her head.

Hassan grinned and raised his glass of sparkling water in a silent toast.

Jess smiled like the cat that got the cream.

 

“Come here”. Jess called out to her, as Toni finished wiping up.

They were all gathered around her PC.

She looked at the screen. It was a porno site. A woman in an obviously amateur shot was mopping a tiled floor in the nude.

“Click the ‘back’ button.” Jess said.

Oh my fucking hell.

As she clicked, immediately a photo of her own face appeared.

It was one from the previous night. A close up of her face covered in creamy white ejaculate; thick streaks on her cheeks, forehead and landing in her gasping mouth. She was clearly visible. Anybody who knew her, seeing this page, would inevitably recognise her.

“Why ?” she said, her face crumbling into tears, her life ruined.

George smiled kindly. “Shhh ! Don’t panic. It’s just a preview page.”

“For now !” Jess added.

“Wh … what do I have to doooo ?” she sobbed.

George took her face in his hands and kissed her.

“That’s the right question. I’m fed up with limits. Do what you’re told and I have no interest in ruining your life. Okay ?”

She wiped her eyes, listening, grabbing hold of hope.

“You remember yesterday’s bathroom bucket ?”

She nodded, biting her lower lip.

“Go fetch.”

In a daze she walked naked to the outdoor shed and carried it back. She glanced down. It contained a stinking mess of soggy toilet tissue and day-old excrement in a pool of fetid brown water.

Hassan held his nose as she entered the room.

“Oh, wow !” Jess sniggered.

George grinned at her, full of self confidence.

“Now, tell me how much you don’t want Jess to click and upload the photos onto the site. It’s not just that photo by the way. There are ten in total, all of you.”

“I will do … anything you say, for her not to do that.”

“Then bend over and put your head down in that bucket.”

Steeling herself, she gripped her shins and bent down into position.

“Hassan is now going to fuck your shithole while you breathe in mine.”

She braced herself. What choice did she have ?

Slowly she lowered her head into the confines of the foul plastic bucket, trying to ensure that strands of her hair didn’t fall into the muck.

She felt hands on her spine, then fingers in her anal crack, sluicing in a dollop of cold lubricant of some sort. Her nose filled with stench and her eyes rolled with humiliation but she managed to stay bent over.

What felt like thumbs roughly hiked open her greased anus and then a hard but fleshy penis nuzzled into her sphincter. It was painful, but that was as nothing to the awful, overpowering shame she felt.

Hands gripped her hips and she felt the smooth, thin penis glide into her passage. A stranger’s penis that now knew each of her three orifices.

Please let this be over quickly.

But it was not to be. Hassan took an age. He sampled different angles and speeds, she heard him discussing things with the others but couldn’t make out the muted words. He steered her with his left hand while his right mauled her dangling breasts. Her feet, shins, thighs, hips and bottom ached and throbbed until the blood had all run to her head.

Eventually, though, he came, spewing his load inside her.

She stayed down resolutely in position after he had extracted his cock.

“Up.”

She heard George’s voice and slowly raised her head from the bucket.

“Question.” He said. “Any more … er … limits in future ?”

Can there be anything else ? What more can you want of me ?

She stared imploringly into his eyes. “No limits, Sir.”

His stern expression broke into a grin. “Right answer, doll.”

Meanwhile Jess, arms folded over her cleavage, instead of looking victorious or amused, was scowling at her with a face like thunder.

 

*** *** ***

 

At around five the doorbell rang.

“Go answer it.” George called out as if he was expecting somebody.

Toni was still naked. Nevertheless, obediently, she walked through the hall and cautiously opened the door to the extent the security chain allowed.

Outside stood five students. Or what looked like students; three guys and two girls.

“Let’em in.” George shouted.

Grimacing with extreme embarrassment, Toni slid the chain back and opened the door.

“Thanks.”

They trooped in, evidently unshocked, but checking out Toni’s naked body. The three guys, in particular, ogled her boobs and thighs.

And then … a moment that would stay with her for the remainder of her life.

F U C K.

A third girl appeared from round the corner, stubbing a cigarette butt under her trendy boots. She stared in shock straight at Toni.

Her name was Davina and she was a design student on a work placement at Toni’s office; making coffee, taking notes, hoping to break into the fashion world. She’d even been at Friday’s meeting.

It soon became clear that this extra humiliation had not been part of George’s plans. It was a pure fluke.

Give credit to the girl. She took it in her young stride.

“Hi, Toni. You havin’ a good weekend ?”

She walked boldly through the front door after the others.

“Davina… please …”

Toni gushed out an explanation, or at least an attempt at one, while all six students and Jess, Hassan and George stood by and listened.

“She works for you ?” asked George, incredulous.

“Yes. Sort of.”

George beamed. “How delicious. Somebody to keep an eye on you at your office !”

“No ! You don’t understand. You can’t mix business and … this !”

George turned his mouth down with a Gallic shrug. “Why not ?”

Davina looked at her with interest. “Yeah. Why ?”

Why ????!!!! You stupid, naïve kids.

“After all, I’m sure Davina would like a firm job offer.” George said.

“Yeah.” Davina echoed.

“And a salary raise. A fat one, eh, Davina ?”

The design student leaned over and kissed him on the lips. “Right on.”

“You can be trusted with our little secret can’t you ?”

“Sure.”

“Hold on a minute !” Jess interrupted indignantly. “I thought the idea was to humiliate this bitch. This is the perfect opportunity.”

George frowned exaggeratedly, as if mulling the idea over, looking at each of the students meaningfully, then Hassan, and finally at Toni, with the tiniest of winks.

“Actually, Jess, the idea now is to humiliate you.” He gestured at the new arrivals. “Meet my … special friends. And this is the perfect opportunity.”

 

*** *** ***

 

Jess fought like a tiger, screamed like a hyena and begged like a dog.

To no avail.

Once they had her gagged and wrists tied, the young men went to work. And whereas Toni had got some pleasure from her rape and shame, Jess hated every single moment.

The three male students used her first; one, two, then – memorably - all three at a time, in a classic triple-orifice triangle. The spiky haired punk lay back with Jess’s virgin bottom impaled on his cock, while the one with the ginger goatee fucked her on top, and the muscled black kid knelt over her face and pumped her slack jawed mouth.

Afterwards, Hassan and George took their turns enthusiastically. When George ploughed his well endowed cock, that she had so recently enjoyed, into her ‘Sweet Bitch’ arsehole, Jess strangely didn’t seem to like it at all. Finally, the female students used her in various ways too, while the Goth girl who was a talented film student, operated the camcorder.

Toni ferried beers and nibbles to the throng and had never enjoyed herself so much in all her 36 years.

Davina mumbled an aside to her. “Is every weekend like this ?”

Toni made a face. “I promise you …”

“Calm down boss.” Davina said, putting her finger to Toni’s trembling lips. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve been into bdsm since I was seventeen. I’m a bisexual domme and I go to clubs and munches most weekends myself. Your secret’s safe with me. If mine is with you.”

They both smiled as George walked back into the room brandishing the huge, flesh coloured, ridged vibrator that Toni herself had been humiliated with the evening before.

After two hours of filming, in order to avoid brutal threats, Jess was made to ride each man again enthusiastically, smiling at the camera, shriek in several convincing orgasms with different partners, drink several vodka shots, shoot up a few drugs, and generally show herself to be a delighted and willing participant in the entire drunken orgy.

All on camera.

Once it was edited and everybody’s but Jess’s face had been cut or blurred, it would prove an extremely powerful blackmail weapon, especially in the hands of Hassan, who was not going to let such a wonderful opportunity for a white slave pass him by.

Sometime, just before everybody left, George caught Toni’s eye and smiled. She went over to him.

And he kissed her gently, passionately.

“I think it’s finally time that clit of yours got a little action, isn’t it ?”

She melted into his chest, her heart pounding.

“And I think it’s time I told you voluntarily that there will no longer be any limits. From this moment, anything, and I mean anything, is up to you.”

 

*** *** ***

 

 

On Monday morning, Toni was back in a meeting with her design team. The five women and single man around the table were munching on croissants and sipping hot cappuccinos.

“Where is she ?” mumbled Trish, Toni’s deputy. The redheaded Scot was known as Dragon behind her back; a heart of gold well hidden by an impatient, intolerant, professional exterior.

“Davina’s never normally late.”

“Her cell phone’s not answering.”

Toni bounced her pad on the table to signify she was ready.

“I suspect Davina isn’t coming. Or …”, Toni smiled, “maybe she is.”

In my bed, no doubt.

“What ? Well is she or isn’t she ?” Trish blurted.

“Tell you what Trish.” Toni said, pushing the notepad in her direction. “You take notes until Davina arrives. Okay ?”

 

At noon, showered and gorgeous, Davina pranced into the room.

“Sorry I’m late. Something came up.”

“Huh.” Trish frowned. “That …”

That black cashmere sweater is exactly like …

Toni interrupted. “Trish. Everybody. I’ve been thinking over the weekend. Davina’s been with us five months now and she’s done a very good job. I’ve decided to invite her to join the team properly.”

There were gob smacked expressions all round.

Davina beamed. “Thank you, Toni. You won’t regret it, I promise you.”

 

On Tuesday morning, the creative team was gathered again, this time with the production department to sort out the next season’s delivery schedule.

“Where is she ?” Trish stared dramatically at her watch. “Late again.”

“I tried her cell. It’s switched off.”

At that moment Toni’s phone hummed. Her personal one, not her Blackberry.

Around her, faces stared expectantly, waiting, watching.

She smiled at them coolly until her phone ceased.

“Davina’s moving into a new place, now that’s she’s got a full time job. So let’s start the meeting without her.”

The meeting proceeded smoothly and it took forty five minutes.

Later, in the privacy of her own office, Toni flipped open her phone and looked at the little square screen. There was a simple text message of seven digits:

 

! ! ! x x x

G

 

Suddenly Trish stood in the doorway, smiling drily.

“That man of yours is always texting you, isn’t he ?”

Toni shrugged. “Not so often, why ?”

“I mean, whenever your American friend says jump, you just seem to ask how high, right ?”

Toni made a face. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Sure.” Trish chuckled. “It’s nice to see. You two must have a very special relationship.”

 

 

 

 

*** THE END ***

 

 

Already posted by the same author:

 

“Son of a Gun” – a tale set in both the mid 19^th century and the present day recounting the fate of two young ladies stranded on a desert island and suggesting what might have been the outcome of their ravishment several generations later (some non-consensual scenes and moderate bdsm but not an excessively heavy story – please note that none of my writings ever contain snuff, gore or any material characters under 21).

 

“The Ballad of Lara and Gemma” – a spin-off tale from my earlier novel ‘After the Pestilence’ (see below). It is set in the near future and describes the relationship between a lesbian/bi domme and her infatuation with an unwilling female slave (all non-consensual scenes and extreme humiliation including scat).

 

“Amuse-Bouches” – this is written in English, not French ! Amuse-Bouches are nibbles that fancy restaurants serve to ‘amuse the mouth’ before the main meal. I posted a selection of three dominant-POV short stories, rising in severity from consensual to mind control to non-consensual (the first two contain moderate bdsm, whilst the third is quite heavy and may not be to everybody’s taste).

 

“Hors d’Oeuvres” – also written in English, not French ! A selection of three consensual, male-submissive short stories, or rather opening chapters of novels I never finished (without a doubt the mildest posting I have made so far and so it may not be to everybody’s taste, especially dominant guys !)

 

“After the Pestilence” – a long (70,000 words) novel that took over a year to write, set in the near future, involving numerous characters and containing, as one reviewer said, ‘something for everyone’ (most of it is non-consensual and the humiliation is extreme, although the actual violence is mainly moderate). A shorter sequel “Beyond the Pestilence” is a work in progress that I hope to post one day.