Peter accepted a glass of champagne from the tray offered to him. The waitress was a pretty blonde with a snub nose that gave her a look of permanent impudence: Felicity Chamberlain, ex-pupil at Broadfields College, ex-toasty girl to Clementine Stewart, and currently with Grove House Maids while she worked as an intern in the City. She was one of six employed to serve at an embassy reception and potentially for more intimate services later in the evening.
“Thank you,” he said as she bobbed a curtsey so impudent it bordered on sarcastic. “How are we doing?”
“Very well,” she answered. “Looks like it’s going to be a late night.”
“Excellent. I’m sure I can find a way to amuse myself while you ladies do what you do best,” he answered and took a sip of champagne as she turned to another guest.
Ignoring the temptation to pinch or pat her sweetly rotating rump as she moved away, he went back to contemplating the other people in the room. Chaperone was not a job he particularly enjoyed, but there were worse things in life than sipping Champagne, eating canapés and making small talk, especially when being at a foreign embassy allowed him to avoid conversation about the election defeat a few days before. Such evenings also tended to end well, at the very least with a quick hand job from one of the girls in his car, and often a great deal more. On one particularly memorable night, a corporate function had proved so heavily overrun with wives that he’d ended up sharing a hotel suite with four of the girls. But this embassy reception seemed unlikely to come up to the same standard. Both Rhiannon and Elspeth Fraser had been booked in advance, for one thing, and it now looked as if Felicity’s services were also going to be required. That left Chloe Thompson, now with her newly blonde hair and currently the focus of attention of three swarthy, bearded men at the far side of the room; the tiny, elfin Henrietta Clark; and Clementine Stewart. No less than eight of his clients were also present but unattended, so it seemed likely that the options for his own gratification would be limited. But the money, at least, would be good.
He took another swallow of champagne and glanced at his watch, wondering how long he ought to wait before retiring to his hotel room. As usual, the reception involved a great deal of social-climbing, one-upmanship, carefully judged snubs and other tedious social interactions that didn’t concern him, but did mean that it was almost impossible to have an interesting or amusing conversation. And obviously, discussing his own business was out of the question, despite the fact that it was going on in flagrant discretion all around him.
“Peter!” a voice called out, directly behind him and loud enough to startle him.
He turned, to find a man coming towards him, tall, lean, with an air of strength and purpose that suggested the outdoors even in his smart white tuxedo.
“Rackman. Hunter Rackman!” Peter answered, shaking the big man’s extended hand after an instant’s hesitation before he recognized his old friend. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Well you should,” the American answered. “Lopez wouldn’t be president without our backing, count on that.”
“Yes, but why are you in London?”
“Promotion, or an easy number to say thanks for Central America. But say, can we have a private word?”
Hunter didn’t bother to wait for an answer, but took Peter by the elbow and led him to a clear space where a microphone had been set up for use later in the evening. They were on a low stage, and Peter felt distinctly conspicuous. But Hunter didn’t seem to care, continuing in a low, conspiratorial voice.
“Look, I’ve been speaking to Ben, and I understand you’re up to your old tricks and then some. Now my Emerald’s back at home …”
“Emerald?” Peter queried. “You married Emerald Feldkirch?”
“After that night? I’d have married her if I had to kill for it. So yeah, I married Emerald, and she’s given me three fine sons and the most beautiful little girl you ever did see. But Emmie’s back home, if you get my meaning.”
“Which means that you’re alone and might need the services of a maid?” Peter answered.
“Exactly that,” Hunter said with a wink. “But not any old maid. The best. The girls in the green outfits are yours, yes?”
“Yes,” Peter admitted. “The tall red-head is Tiffany’s daughter, Rhiannon, by the way, but she’s booked. So’s the other red-head, Elspeth. But I’m guessing you prefer blonds, which is just as well.”
“Who’s the cutie with the pug nose?”
“Felicity. I think she’s booked too. The tiny one is Henrietta …”
“Jesus, Pete, she’d barely come up to my dick. How about the tall girl with the tits at ten and two?”
“Clementine, yes, she’s lovely, but I ought to warn you that she’s Daniel Stewart’s daughter.”
“She’s old Dan’s daughter? You don’t say! Now I’ve gotta fuck her.”
Peter stifled a sigh. He’d tried to avoid pairing the daughters of old school chums with other school chums. And yet, he couldn’t deny the perverse twinge that overrode his reluctance. “I’ll introduce you,” he said at last.
Hunter was already striding across the floor and Peter hurried to catch up. Introductions were made and Clementine smiled and bobbed, a reaction as cool as it was charming, instantaneously putting a feral look in Hunter’s eyes. Peter left them to it, glancing around the room to locate Chloe, who was pouring champagne for Clive Sumner. Her overtly flirtatious manner suggested she too was taken; and Henrietta wasn’t visible.
On a sudden impulse he made for the kitchens. As he’d hoped, Henrietta was fetching more of the canapés she’d been handing out, with a full tray on the table in front of her as she put the finishing touches to the arrangement. He went straight to her, twisting her around to press his lips to hers, a kiss she returned after a moment of hesitation. Of all the girls, she was the one who most enjoyed rough treatment, preferring her spankings and sex sudden and unannounced as long as she was in the mood. The passion of her kiss made it clear that she was most certainly in the mood, and Peter wasted no time in talk.
As she pressed her body to his, he took a firm grip on her waist and twisted her round once more to face the table. He popped her tits free from her bodice, taking one in each hand as he rubbed his crotch against her bottom. She rubbed back, purring in anticipation for the hard bulge of his cock as it bumped between her tiny butt cheeks, encouraging him still more. Peter’s mischievous streak got the better of him and, with a single shove, he planted Henrietta’s tits and face firmly in the canapés, her squeak of alarm and surprise muffled by a mushroom vol-au-vent. Two swift tugs and her uniform skirt was up around her waist and her frilly panties were down to her thighs. A quick adjustment of his fly and his cock was free in his hand, not fully stiff, but stiff enough to push into the wet, accommodating aperture of her vagina and then deep inside her.
She’d pulled herself up onto her elbows as he began to fuck her, his fingers locked around her hips as he jammed himself in and out with short, hard thrusts, his belly smacking on her naked bottom with each and every one. He pushed her down again, rubbing her face in the mess on the tray and ignoring her protests, before scooping up a handful of dainties to smear them over her chest, soiling her breasts. More went into her mouth and hair, rendering her both speechless and completely unfit for polite company, an effect enhanced as he pulled his cock free to jerk himself off over her bare bottom and into her panties, across the back of her dress and lastly in her face as he pulled her around one last time. Her mouth was already full of food, with bits of pastry, mushroom sauce and lumpfish roe spilling out around her lips. Peter was too far gone to let this dissuade him, and he crammed his cock into her over-full mouth, sending food squirting from the sides as it was displaced by his girth and he finished his orgasm in her throat.
“Right,” he told her as he finally pulled back. “You’re mine for the evening, Henrietta, as I hardly think you’re in a fit state to serve the ambassador’s guests. Out the back way with you, and don’t worry about the cash. I’ll see you get your share.”
“You are a complete bastard, Peter!” she managed, spitting out the mess from her mouth. “You didn’t even spank me first!”
“I’ll make up for it at the hotel,” he promised her. “Now run along. The others are all booked up and we’ve got until at least two or three in the morning.”
“Clemmie’s going to spend the night with Mr. Rackman,” Rhiannon announced, bouncing down on the bed. “You know about Elspeth, Chloe wants you to pick her up from Clive’s flat and Flick’s still at the embassy.”
“Doing what?” Peter asked as he pulled himself upright in the bed.
He’d been asleep, and his head still felt as if it was full of cobwebs, while even Rhiannon’s noisy arrival hadn’t been enough to wake Henrietta, who lay beside him, nude, the covers twisted around her body with her well smacked bottom sticking out from among them. She’d been given her promised spanking, followed by a second, more leisurely fuck, but by the time they’d both come he’d been too exhausted to stay awake.
Rhiannon hadn’t answered him, her eyes closed and her hands on her chest, gently stroking her breasts through her uniform. Peter recognized the symptoms: a girl who’d been thoroughly fucked and probably put through her paces in a number of other ways, but hadn’t had a chance to achieve orgasm. It was by no means uncommon with the Grove House girls. Most of the clients took the attitude that—as it was their money—their pleasure was what counted. So Peter had become something of an expert at masturbating sleepy but turned-on girls to climax. Now was not the time.
“Doing what?” he repeated.
“Getting fucked, I imagine,” Rhiannon replied. “Three of the embassy staff took her upstairs, and …”
“Staff?” Peter cut her off. “Not Grove House members?”
Rhiannon merely bit her lip softly.
“This is not a freelance operation. This whole thing works because we are exclusive and discreet.” Peter fought to keep from raising his voice. After all, Felicity’s indiscretion was not Rhiannon’s fault, and he had no right to be annoyed with her.
But Rhiannon seemed not to notice. Her thoughts were elsewhere.
“Peter … get me off,” she said softly.
“Later,” Peter promised her, glancing at the clock radio beside the bed. “It’s nearly four o’clock in the morning. Wake up, Henrietta.”
He’d applied a firm smack to her bottom as he spoke, but she merely groaned and twisted herself tighter into the sheets. Peter hauled himself out of bed and padded across to the bathroom, where he splashed water on his face. His eyes were red and he looked drawn. He was wondering how much longer he could keep up a lifestyle that allowed so little sleep, when a commotion from the bedroom pulled his thoughts back to the present.
Rhiannon had unrolled Henrietta from the bedcovers and, after what had sounded like a brief but spirited struggle, sat directly upon her face. Rhiannon’s eyes were now closed in bliss as she sat bolt upright in the middle of the bed, playing with her breasts as she squatted over Henrietta. Rhiannon’s panties were around her knees, and her uniform skirt was splayed out like a flower, while Henrietta licked and lapped at her cunt and bottom from beneath. Peter merely shook his head, used to the girls’ behavior, but he watched from the corner of his eye as he dressed, while Rhiannon took the orgasm she’d needed so badly before going down on Henrietta to return the favor.
His cock had begun to stir as he watched, but he was concerned for Felicity and already late for Elspeth. So he put his needs aside, doing his best to hurry the girls along and get them all out of the hotel and across the street to where the green Grove House Maids minibus was parked. As he was climbing in Felicity appeared, her long blonde hair loose and disarrayed, her shoes in one hand a champagne bottle in the other, her uniform disheveled.
“Just get in,” Peter told her as she began what was clearly a well-rehearsed apology. “You know perfectly well it’s club members only. I’ll deal with you later.”
She made a face at him but climbed into the back of the minibus, taking a swallow of wine from the bottle before passing it to Rhiannon. Peter was trying to look stern as he started the engine, but he felt only mild exasperation for her behavior and was looking forward to the opportunities it presented. Felicity was usually well behaved, and resentful about spankings, preferring to dish them out than take them. But she would accept a just punishment if she broke the rules, which she clearly had.
Chloe was at Clive Sumner’s place in Westminster and had soon been collected, while Elspeth was staying the night with her client. With Chloe safely in the minibus he allowed himself a sigh of relief. The opportunity to provide maids for the reception had been too good to turn down, with Clive making a generous block booking in his position as a senior official at the Foreign Office, to which he had moved some years before. Clive had assured him that neither Daniel nor Ben would be at the function, while both Clementine and Chloe had been keen to attend, but he was very pleased indeed to be away without incident. Daniel knew about Grove House Maids but he had never made use of the service, preferring to avoid all risk of scandal. Although Ben was a regular client.
As Peter drove, he reflected on the odd behavior of his friends, which Rhiannon had called hypocritical. There was no doubt at all in his mind that Ben would be furious to discover that Chloe was a Grove House Maid, and yet he himself was especially keen on Clementine, and generally liked to watch her strip, then have her go down on her knees to suck his cock hard before she was taken from behind. Peter had always assumed that this was because Daniel had been very much the leader of their group while they were at Broadfields—not to mention a school prefect—so that using his daughter for sex became a way to offset feelings of inferiority. Gabriel also enjoyed Clementine, and Hunter Rackman had lost no time in booking her, which fitted the pattern, if less well. But Clive and Ben had always been very much equals and Chloe was now being given much the same treatment as Clementine.
He continued to ponder the question as he drove east with the four girls drinking champagne and laughing together in the back of the minibus, but the only postulate that seemed to fit was that his friends shared a highly perverse sense of humor. Unfortunately it was also a dangerous one, and he decided to impose new rules to reduce the risk of disaster, which served to remind him of Felicity’s breach of agreed conduct. She was the first to be dropped off, at the apartment on the edge of Docklands which she shared with two other girls, both innocent of her lucrative sideline. That meant she had to be dealt with in the van. Not easy in the middle of London, but he knew the perfect place.
A slight adjustment to the route allowed him to park behind what had once been St. Botolph’s Church. It was now a block of exclusive apartments, but it looked much the same and the alley behind it was no more busy that it had been on the memorable night nearly eight years before. He was smiling as he drew the van to a halt, thoroughly happy with his life despite his tiredness and looking forward to the prospect of dishing out one more spanking.
“Why have we stopped?” Felicity asked, although the tone of her voice suggested that she knew the answer perfectly well.
“Three of the embassy staff, I believe it was?” Peter queried. “I don’t imagine they were members of the club, either?”
“They paid,” Felicity countered, now openly alarmed. “Quite well, too. One of them was the ambassador!”
“I don’t care if he was an emperor,” Peter replied. “You know the rules.”
“Oh come on!” Felicity urged. “Not now, and not … not in front of Chloe!”
Peter ignored her, but climbed into the back, seating himself in the seat he invariably used for spankings, where he had plenty of leg room while the girls’ backsides remained nicely on show to other passengers.
“A spanking now, or the cane later,” he told her, “and either way, it’s going to have to be in front of Chloe.”
“Why?” Felicity demanded. “That’s not fair!”
Rhiannon giggled at her friend’s petulant tone, earning herself a smack on the leg.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Felicity told her. “Or the next time you get it I’ll make sure he uses a hairbrush!”
“Ooh, good idea!” Rhiannon laughed, digging in her bag to pull out a long handled, wooden hairbrush. “Go on, Peter, spank her!”
“Bitch!” Felicity snapped. “Look, Peter, I …”
“A spanking now,” Peter interrupted. “Or the cane later.”
“Oh all right,” Felicity answered, pouting badly as she lay herself down across Peter’s legs. “You can spank me, but not with her hairbrush.”
Peter said nothing, but took a firm grip around her waist, fixing her in place before he turned her uniform skirt up onto her back and pulled down her panties. The other girls quickly gathered around to watch—Rhiannon and Henrietta bright-eyed and giggling, Chloe shocked but still fascinated to see the girl whose knee she’d been over so often get a dose of her own medicine. Felicity stayed silent, sulky but compliant, until Peter took the hairbrush from Rhiannon.
“Hey, no!” she squeaked. “That’s not fair, come on …”
“This is discipline, hence the hairbrush,” Peter stated and brought it down with a firm smack across Felicity’s bottom.
“Bitch!” Felicity repeated, twisting around to stick her tongue out at Rhiannon. “I’ll get you for this, and you needn’t think you’re going to get a show out of me.”
Peter didn’t comment, but began to spank harder and faster, vigorous smacks delivered full on the tuck of Felicity’s fleshy little cheeks in rapid succession, instantly robbing her of any chance of coping with the pain. She withstood it for a few seconds, grunting through gritted teeth as she struggled to retain her dignity before giving in. First she began to wriggle and toss her hair, then to squirm and kick her legs. Finally, she surrendered completely, letting go of her emotions in a fine spanking tantrum with her fists thumping on the floor of the minibus and her thighs pumping to make a thoroughly rude show of her most private places. Peter continued to spank until he was sure the other girls had all had a good look, then stopped. Felicity jumped up, open mouthed with shock and clutching her hot bottom as she jumped up and down in a futile effort to dull the pain, which only served to inspire more giggling from the other three. Rhiannon retrieved her hairbrush while Peter, now grinning broadly and more pleased with himself than ever, pulled down his zip.
“Not that too!” Felicity protested as he exposed himself.
“Go on, Flick,” Henrietta mocked. “Be a good girl and say thank you nicely.”
Felicity turned a furious scowl toward Henrietta, but she got onto the seat beside Peter, kneeling with her bottom lifted high as she took his cock into her mouth. He began to stroke her cheeks as she sucked, enjoying the heat of her skin and the faint trembling of her body. A finger snuck between her thighs to reveal that she was every bit as wet as he’d expected, while the other girls gathered close, Henrietta and Chloe with their arms around each other, Rhiannon cupping Peter’s balls and gently masturbating him into Felicity’s mouth.
It took him a few minutes to get fully hard, his balls still drained after fucking Henrietta, by which time Felicity had begun to stick her bottom up higher still, making the pout of her pussy and the pucker of her ass available to his fingers. He took full advantage, easing open her vagina, as Rhiannon smiled conspiratorially and pulled a tube of lubricant from her bag. Peter grinned, watching as Rhiannon drizzled the fluid between the crests of Felicity’s well-reddened bottom, and still more between her cheeks, directly onto her anus. Felicity gave a muffled sob as she felt the cool fluid on her skin, but she began to suck harder on Peter’s erection as Rhiannon massaged her flesh and Peter continued to finger her.
Chloe had soon joined in too, taking over with the lube while Rhiannon and Henrietta began to kiss. Peter began to wonder just how far he could take it, with Felicity’s head now bobbing urgently up and down on his straining cock. They’d fucked twice before, and she’d already had three men that evening. But her luscious bottom had been on full display during her spanking and Peter was quite sure she had not been entered there. Easing his fingers from her vagina, he began to tease between her ass cheeks, rubbing lube over the little textured crevice of her anus as he spoke.
“Maybe, Felicity, what you really need is a nice, big cock in your ass?”
Her sucking immediately grew more urgent, maybe in a desperate effort to make him come in her mouth before she was sodomized, maybe in anticipation of exactly that. Peter chose to assume that she would let him, easing one finger up into the tight little hole he’d been lubricating. She gave another heartfelt sob and suddenly she’d come up off his cock, only to start to rub it all over her face and lick at his balls.
“Up the back it is,” he told her, fingering her anus for just a moment longer. When she didn’t protest he pulled her around.
She let him guide her, her bottom pushed out into his lap, pale and round and beautiful in the dim light, in full view of the other three girls. Grinning more broadly than ever, Peter pressed his cock to her anus, watching as the slippery little ring began to open, taking him gradually inside. Rhiannon took hold of his cock, steering it up into Felicity’s back way until she was sitting firmly on his lap, now upright, her thighs spread wide, his balls pressed to her equally slippery vagina. He took her by the waist, bouncing her on his cock as she gasped and panted her way through the lewd act, when suddenly Chloe scrambled over the seats, got down on her knees and buried her face in Felicity’s cunt. She was licking at Peter’s balls as well, pushing him closer to orgasm, but he held off, eager to feel Felicity’s anus tighten on his shaft when she came, which seemed likely to be at any instant. Already her muscles had begun to contract, and she was begging Chloe to lick harder and squirming her bottom into Peter’s lap, her voice thick with ecstasy, then breaking to a scream as she hit her orgasm.
Peter began to pump hard into her rectum, eager to fill her with cum as she came, with the glorious sensation of her anal ring tightening over and around his cock. She screamed out again, her body locked in orgasm, her belly pushed out into Chloe’s face—too far. His cock slipped from her bottom just as he started to come. Cum splashed into Chloe’s face, but she’d taken hold, and to Peter’s astonishment fed his cock into her mouth, drawn fresh from her girlfriend’s ass, to suck and swallow, choking as she received the rest of his spume down her throat, keeping him deep in her mouth until at last he was spent.
Chloe had made herself come with busy fingers, in a perfect trio of orgasm, while Henrietta was already pulling down Rhiannon’s uniform to get at her breasts. Leaving the girls to play together, Peter climbed down from the van to check that no one had seen, and to draw the cool, pre-dawn air into his lungs. The eastern sky was already getting light, but the streets were quiet, save for a car that pulled away from a space directly opposite the entrance to the short blind alley where he’d parked. It had been small and dark colored, much like the one he’d seen near the Grove and at Waddesdon. The driver had been in a hurry. He walked quickly to the end of the alley, but the car was already gone.
“You’re getting paranoid, Peter,” Stephen Richards laughed as he sat back in his armchair at the Grove. “The world’s full of little blue cars.”
“I find it pays to be cautious,” Peter replied. “So, if you don’t mind, I’ll go on ahead while you keep an eye on the end of the lane, then follow five minutes later. We can meet up again at the golf club and run through the same procedure when we come back with your clients.”
“If you insist,” Stephen answered. “But you make it sound like something out of a James Bond film, except that I’m sure no self-respecting movie spy would be caught dead driving a Ford Fiesta.”
“It was a Mini Metro, I think,” Peter told him, “and it’s probably nothing, but I’m sure you’ll agree that this afternoon’s entertainment is best kept private?”
“Absolutely,” Stephen agreed. “Ah, there you are, girls. They’re going to love you!”
Clementine, Felicity and Chloe had come downstairs, shepherded by Michelle, while Rhiannon could be heard laughing from the bedroom. All three of the younger girls were in identical outfits, and all three looked somewhat sheepish, Clementine most of all.
“I feel silly,” she announced, lifting the hem of her Union Flag minidress.
“Blame the Spice Girls,” Peter answered, trying not to laugh.
“Geri Halliwell didn’t have to wear frilly knickers under her dress,” Clementine pointed out, “and they didn’t show either, not like this. I mean, look!”
Even from the front, a puff of frills had been visible below the hem of her dress. But as she turned to show off the back, Peter gave up trying not to grin. The dress was tight at the waist and flared to a pleated skirt that was not only far too short to cover Clementine’s bottom properly, but pushed up and out by a great froth of lace that nevertheless did very little to conceal the contours of her cheeks. The upper part of her dress was scarcely more decent, with the material tight over her breasts to make it very obvious indeed that she had no bra underneath, while Union Flag stockings, little white pumps on her feet and a bright red ribbon in her hair all combined to make her look both rude and ridiculous. Felicity was no better, identically dressed but for a blue hair ribbon, although the sulky scowl on her face didn’t really suit the image. Chloe was more stoical, and merely looked embarrassed, although her fuller bottom made the effect of comic smut even more exaggerated.
“You look lovely,” Peter said. “Well, sexy, in a Benny Hill sort of way.”
“I’m sorry, really,” Stephen added, chuckling. “But that’s what they wanted, and the client is king.”
“The client is a pervert,” Felicity put in.
“But a rich pervert,” Peter pointed out, “and rich perverts tend to get their way. Come on girls, cheer up. Smile, wiggle your bottoms, and remember, plenty of deference. But don’t overdo it. Too much and they’ll think you’re making fun of them. They may be perverts, but they’re not stupid.”
“We know what to do,” Clementine assured him.
“You don’t expect us to come to the golf club like this, do you?” Chloe asked.
“Of course not,” Peter assured her. “Michelle and Rhiannon can drive up with us to keep them happy, and you’re to be ready with cold beers when we get back, along with anything else they want, and that means anything.”
“We know,” Felicity answered him.
“Excellent,” Peter said, rising from the sofa, “and do you remember what I said about the wrestling?”
“Yes,” Clementine confirmed. “We’re to make it look as if we really hate each other.”
“Think humiliation,” Felicity added.
“That’s right,” Peter said, “and above all, make it look real. Ok, let’s go. Five minutes behind me please, Stephen.”
They followed the plan but nothing untoward happened, leaving Peter feeling slightly foolish but very relieved as they pulled up in front of the golf club where Stephen had installed his clients for the weekend. There were six of them, all dressed more or less alike, in sober, well cut suits with plain ties and highly polished shoes. All were as fastidious in their manners as in their dress, but there the similarities ended. One, Mr. Drach, was plainly the senior man, older than the others, with a brisk, business-like manner and a hard edge. His accountant and lawyer, Zoran Zoranov and Miroslav Petrović, were short and tall respectively, but united by a cruel humor. Two others, both large, silent men with dark glasses and carefully trimmed beards, hadn’t been introduced by name but appeared to be security. The last, introduced simply as Kralj, had no obvious function and seemed cold and humorless, while even his polite manners somehow came across as sinister.
The three who seemed to be the actual businessmen were at least easy to get on with, and as they talked over glasses of gin and tonic Peter began to relax. They seemed to have an almost infantile delight in their desire to have British girls thoroughly humiliated, in which he could see at least a reflection of his own sexual preferences. Nevertheless, they were extremely courteous to both Rhiannon and Michelle, but made no effort to conceal their lust, as if the women had been created purely for their sexual entertainment. It was an attitude very much in accordance with some of the girls’ darker fantasies, if very different from the way they handled men in day-to-day life. By the time they were ready to leave, Peter was thoroughly looking forward to the afternoon’s entertainment.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened on the way back to the Grove, allowing Peter to expand on the scenario he and Stephen had set up to make the entertainment exciting for their guests. He was already on first name terms with Zoran and Miroslav, who were seated to either side of Michelle in the back of the Jaguar. Kralj rode in the front, maintaining a slightly unnerving silence while the others listened to Peter’s descriptions of Clementine and Felicity.
“… natural blonds too, as you will see. In fact, they’re so alike they could be sisters. But they were rivals at school and they absolutely hate each other, so you can be sure of a good fight. Not only that, but the winner gets a nice bonus to take home, as well as being allowed to do as she likes to the loser, who then gets six of the cane to finish her off.”
“You know how to handle a girl!” Zoran laughed.
“Stick and carrot, we call it,” Peter explained. “An expression that comes from an old fashioned way to make a donkey move along, with a carrot dangled in front of his nose and a stick to beat him with. Only in this case the donkey is a girl, the carrot is money and the stick is … well, a stick.”
Both Zoran and Miroslav laughed, and even Kralj’s stony expression seemed to flicker towards a smile for an instant as Peter turned into the lane. Chloe was waiting at the door, looking pleasingly shy and embarrassed in her over-the-top outfit with her breasts lifted up high and bare in two demi-cup froths of lace. She also looked distinctly submissive, with a silver tray fastened to her wrists by slender chains. The same chains also led to tiny clips made in the shape of dragon’s heads, each with its teeth clamped onto one stiff nipple. On the tray was a bottle of Champagne and several full glasses.
“Champagne, Gentlemen?” she offered, bobbing a curtsy as Peter and the others climbed from the car.
“Pol Roger, Winston Churchill’s personal favorite,” Peter explained as they took their glasses. “Which is why the cuvée is named after him, the ’eighty-five in this case, and made using grapes exclusively from Grand Cru vineyards.”
Both Zoran and Milosevic were plainly more interested in inspecting the now blushing Chloe’s firmly clamped tits, while Kralj was looking at the open, empty fields and hedges as he spoke into his mobile phone.
“We’re quite secure, I assure you,” Peter told him, although he found himself glancing nervously at the line of trees along the road and at a distant row of walkers on Ivinghoe Beacon. “You’d need an extraordinarily powerful lens to see that Chloe’s dress is anything more than a cheeky costume, while all the action will be around the back, where we’re screened in all directions. Do come in.”
Kralj responded with a single, crisp nod and followed through to the garden, leaving Chloe to greet Stephen and the remaining guests as their car drew up. Clementine and Felicity stood on the lawn, glowering at each other from either side of a pool of thick, grayish mud.
“This is our clay pit,” Peter announced, indicating the depression he’d hollowed out in the middle of the lawn. “Just the thing for girls to wrestle in, I’m sure you’ll agree?”
He’d chosen the position well, making sure that the house and trees blocked the view in every direction, with the peak of the hill barely visible between the tall trunks. Considerable trouble had also gone into the design. First he had marked out a circle ten feet wide, then dug a shallow bowl from the chalky soil. A pond liner had ensured that the bottom was smooth and the water wouldn’t drain away too quickly, while a local quarry had allowed him to collect a quantity of chalky slurry. All of his efforts had resulted in a very natural-looking pit of notably disgusting clay.
Stephen and the remaining three guests had joined them, sipping Champagne and passing remarks in a language completely lost on Peter. But the crude jokes made at the girls’ expense, and speculation as to what could be done with each of them, barely needed translation. Mr. Drach was the first to touch, walking over to Felicity to push one breast up and out her of her bodice. He gave the nipple a firm tweak and set it erect, before treating the other to the same. Felicity managed a giggle in response, while there was nothing false about her blushes. But Mr. Drach seemed concerned only with her body, merely passing a remark in his own language as he began to fondle her breasts.
“Hands on your head, Felicity,” Peter ordered, “and you, Clementine. Show the gentlemen some respect.”
Both girls complied, Felicity struggling to maintain her composure, Clementine cool and serene even as her breasts were popped out in turn and her nipples tweaked to erection. Chloe had joined them, and she was similarly perused, Zoran holding up her skirt to show off the seat of her frilly knickers and allowing Miroslav to take a leisurely fondle of her bottom. Kralj and the two big, quiet men had disappeared in among the trees, presumably to make sure they were unobserved, and Peter took the opportunity to speak with Stephen.
“Well, they seem to like the girls.”
“I should hope so too,” Stephen answered. “I just hope the girls like them enough to put on a good show.”
“We should be okay,” Peter assured him. “That’s one of the many good things about ex-toasty girls. They’re used to humiliation. In fact, they’ll probably be disappointed if they don’t get a good spanking, especially Clemmie.”
“I’m not sure our friends are into spanking as such,” Stephen replied as they watched Chloe’s frilly knickers pulled down. “Or at least, not in the English style. Mainly they just seem to like girls they can interfere with.”
Peter nodded. Mr. Drach now had Felicity’s breasts fully out of her dress, one cupped in either hand as he sucked and licked at her nipples. She stood bolt upright, her hands on top of her head and her eyes closed, her emotions betrayed by the faint trembling of her lower lip. Zoran had gone to Clementine, one hand down the front of her knickers. Despite his sober demeanor, she seemed to savor his touch as her mouth grew slack and her calm expression gave way to reluctant pleasure as she was molested. Miroslav had stayed with Chloe, her knickers now around her ankles, as he squeezed and licked at her bottom while she struggled not to giggle through her scarlet blushes.
Mr. Drach gave an order, laughing but also stern. All three girls had quickly been divested of their knickers, leaving them bare both front and back as they hurried indoors to fetch more refreshments and the men came over to compliment Stephen and Peter on the arrangements. Kralj returned with the two bodyguards to make a brief report in his own language before taking a glass of champagne from Chloe as she re-emerged. Rhiannon appeared, carrying seats for the wrestling, only to be caught by Zoran and Miroslav, molested and stripped nude as she scampered back for more chairs. Peter said nothing, and when she came out again she was quickly seated on one of the chairs as Zoran’s cock was fed into her mouth. Mr. Drach also unzipped, guiding Felicity’s hand to his cock, while Clementine was put on her knees to suck Miroslav erect. None of the others took any notice and Peter decided to follow their example, expounding upon the beauty of the Chilterns to Mr. Drach and Miroslav even as the girls worked on their cocks.
With a grunt from Zoran, Rhiannon received a faceful of jism, with creamy ribbons hanging from her nose and chin as well as a long white streak down one cheek and more still in her mouth. Miroslav promptly excused himself to Peter and ducked down to turn Clementine onto her knees, easing his cock into her cunt with no more self-consciousness than if he’d been fastening a cufflink. Mr. Drach guided Felicity down to where she took his cock in her mouth, with Peter now amused but a little shocked as he continued the conversation.
“I must say, you use the girls very casually, Mr. Drach.”
“That is what they’re here for, no?” Mr Drach responded as Peter watched Zoran wipe his cum into Rhiannon’s face with his still hard cock.
“That’s true enough,” Peter answered, now talking to the sound of the squelching noise of Miroslav’s cock in Clementine’s cunt. “Would you like to um … finish off before the wrestling?”
“I am so sorry,” Mr. Drach replied. “We are being rude. The girls must get ready for the fight, of course. Miroslav, fuck the other one, the red head. You can stop now, little one.”
“You’d better get changed,” Peter told Felicity as she came off Mr. Drach’s cock. “You too, Clemmie.”
Clementine was still on her knees, her cunt agape from Miroslav’s cock, but she nodded and followed Felicity indoors. Chloe was put down in Felicity’s place, still with her tray in her hands as she sucked on Mr. Drach’s penis, while Miroslav held Rhiannon’s legs up to watch his erection slide in and out as he fucked her. Peter watched, along with the others, his own cock now starting to stiffen in response to the abundant show of bare, female flesh. He also could not deny finding a perverse and unexpected pleasure in the casual way the girls were being used so crudely. But he was determined to save himself for later.
Miroslav obviously wasn’t, suddenly pushing his trousers down and mounting Rhiannon, to fuck her on her back with her legs up and open, his cock pumping in and out, his balls slapping onto her spread bottom until he’d unloaded deep inside her. Mr. Drach showed more patience, simply enjoying Chloe’s mouth until Clementine and Felicity came back out, now ready to wrestle. Both wore bikinis, red for Clementine and blue for Felicity, tied with bows between each girl’s breasts and at her hips.
“What are the rules?” Mr. Drach asked.
“They fight in the mud,” Peter explained. “The first to be made fully nude is the loser, including the ribbons in their hair. The winner can then do what she likes with the loser, who’ll also get six of the cane from me, or you if you prefer, and, I don’t know … staked out on the lawn for general use? Whatever takes your fancy, really.”
Mr. Drach gave a pleased nod and reached down to cuff Chloe gently across the face as he spoke.
“You’d better get on with serving the drinks, little one. The redhead can suck my penis while I watch.”
“Rhiannon,” Peter said, gesturing to her.
She’d clearly been included in the entertainment, and Peter found himself glad Michelle had remained in the kitchen. There was something unsettling about the way the men used the girls and, while he could see the appeal, he preferred not to have his heavily pregnant wife involved. Rhiannon at least seemed to accept the situation, crawling across to where Mr. Drach had sat down, and taking his erection in her hand as she began to lick at his balls. The others also took their seats, with Clementine and Felicity already at either side of the clay pit, sizing each other up with convincingly hateful glares.
Peter waited until Chloe had served out fresh drinks, then signaled for the fight to begin. Both girls started forward, cautiously, but in Clementine’s case not cautiously enough. Her foot slipped on the sloping bottom of the pit and she went down sideways into the mud, quickly catching herself even as Felicity darted forward, only to slip as well and go down full length in the mess, saving her face by a miracle. A peel of laughter went up from the watchers, the two bodyguards included, followed by cries of encouragement as Clementine threw herself on top of Felicity.
The girls went down, sprawling in the mud, both already filthy and getting rapidly worse as each struggled to get at the other’s bikini bows. First Clementine seemed to have the advantage, jerking Felicity’s bikini top loose and pulling it free to show off her naked breasts, each slippery with clay save for a pink triangle topped by even pinker nipples. One firm push and she was faced down in the clay again, both tits now filthy all over but her face still unsullied as she gave a furious sideways twist.
Clementine went down, her legs waving in the air as she was unseated. As she twisted over in an attempt to get up, Felicity caught her around the waist. Struggling to rise, Clementine’s knees began to slip in the clay without moving her at all, a sight so comic that even the bodyguards were roaring with laughter, and all the more so as Felicity scooped up a massive wad of clay and stuffed it down the back of Clementine’s bikini bottoms. A second handful followed, adding to the weight in Clementine’s bikini, which now hung down in a heavy, rounded ball, as if she’d had an extremely unfortunate accident.
Zoran passed a remark to Miroslav, in Serbian but easily understandable, raising fresh laughter, which Peter rejoined as Felicity began to spank the helpless Clementine, squashing the soggy clay across her bottom with firm, accurate smacks. Most of the muck squeezed out around the side of Clementine’s bikini briefs but, as she gave a gasp of outrage and disgust, Peter realized that some of it must have slithered into her cunt. Felicity laughed, and Clementine used the distraction to snatch at her opponent, catching one of the bows at Felicity’s hip.
Already topless, Felicity was forced to defend herself, grabbing at the bow, but too late. Her bikini bottoms had come lose, unfastened at one side, then hauled off as Clementine tightened her grip and threw herself backwards in the same instant, sprawling in the mud with her own bikini briefs halfway down and her muddy cunt displayed. Still, Felicity was now completely in the nude with only her hair ribbon between her and defeat.
The girls rested for a moment, gasping, their bodies slimed with clay except for the occasional patch of sweaty pink, their hair matted and foul, Felicity nude but for decoration, Clementine with her top half on, and her bikini bottoms bagging around her thighs with the weight of the clay within them. If there was anything fake about the fury in their faces Peter couldn’t see it, and Felicity screamed as she threw herself at Clementine once more. They went down together, grappling, scratching, pulling hair, Felicity even using her teeth to try and rip off Clementine’s bikini top while she clutched at her own hair ribbon in a desperate attempt to defend herself.
It worked, briefly, both of Clementine’s tits now bare and pink, with her bikini up around her neck. But she’d snatched a handful of clay and slapped it into Felicity’s face, filling her mouth and smearing it over her eyes. Felicity jerked back, scraping at the mess on her face and spitting filth, only to have a second handful of clay crammed into her mouth, making her eyes pop with shock and disgust. With that, her will to fight seemed to go. Clementine closed in, catching Felicity by the knot of her hair, to hold her head above the puddle of slime for a long moment, allowing the defeated girl to see exactly what was about to happen to her. Then, with a snarl, Clementine pushed her opponent’s face into the filthy mess with a heavy squelch, rubbing the whole of her head into the muck before pulling her up once more. Her face was a mask of clay, her open mouth full of filth, her eyes closed, utterly defeated, so that when Clementine let go of her hair she simply slumped back into the mud. With her last ounce of determination, Felicity jerked violently to the side, flailing blindly at Clementine’s hair ribbon, which she managed to catch and remove.
Mr. Drach began to clap and the others joined in. All were grinning, laughing and passing remarks as the girls continued to grapple, both now caked in slippery gray clay from head to foot, snatching furiously at each other’s bodies, indifferent to the lewd display of breasts, bottoms and cunts they provided to their audience. Clementine’s bikini bottoms loosened further and finally fell off, exposing the wad of dirty gray clay packed into the mouth of her cunt and (as she struggled into a crawling position) her ass too. One vicious snatch and her bikini top was gone, but Felicity had already lost. Clementine raised a triumphant fist, opening her fingers to reveal the other girl’s hair ribbon. As the unassailable realization dawned on Felicity, she slumped back into the mud once more, now truly defeated.
Clementine rose from the muck, unsteady on her feet, shaking badly, but triumphant. She was grinning as she showed off the hair ribbon to the cheering audience, with her feet planted to either side of Felicity’s body where the defeated girl lay sprawled in the muck. Peter nodded and gave the private signal they’d agreed. Felicity took note and reluctantly assented, staying down in the mud where she lay. Clementine gave a curt order, and Felicity responded by opening her mouth wide and squeezing her eyes shut. Clementine turned her body a little to ensure that she was full on to Mr. Drach, then let go of her bladder, pissing full and hard into Felicity’s face and over her chest, filling her mouth and soiling her tits anew as bare skin emerged from beneath the mud. Clementine sank down onto her haunches, scooped up a handful of mud and crammed it into Felicity’s mouth, to leave the hapless girl coughing and spluttering as she tried to spit it out, only to have her nose pinched and her jaw pressed shut. Her eyes popped, her struggles grew desperate, but Clementine refused to back off and Felicity was finally forced to eat mud, her face set in furious resentment as she swallowed down the filthy mess in her mouth. The clapping and cheering had stopped, all but one of the men staring opened mouthed in shock and pity as well lust, save for Kralj, who now wore a small, happy smile, and Peter himself, who was grinning as he got up to hose the girls down.
It took a moment for the spell to break. Rhiannon had been working on Mr. Drach’s cock all the while, half turned so that she could watch the fight from one eye as she sucked and licked at his erection. She was now pulled closer and forced to take him deep as he twisted his hands into her long red hair, fucking her mouth with short, hard thrusts clearly intended to take him to orgasm. Kralj gave a nod to the bodyguards and they quickly had Chloe on her knees. Her tray was taken off her and the men unzipped, their stout pale cocks and heavy balls protruding obscenely from their suit trousers as she did her best to cope with both at the same time, sucking and tugging at them until they were hard enough to wedge her into a firm spit roast.
Peter was himself undeniably turned on, and Rhiannon’s bare, outthrust bottom made a fine sight, with her cunt deliciously puffy and wet and ready for entry—and the tight pink star of her anus a no less tempting a target. He pulled his cock free as he continued to hose down the girls, and Clementine immediately crawled close to take him in her mouth. Felicity had rinsed quickly and scurried indoors to shower, leaving Peter to enjoy Clementine’s lips as he played the hose over her naked body.
To his left, Mr. Drach had come in Rhiannon’s mouth, securing her head to make sure she took every last drop of his seed, as she struggled bravely to keep his full length in her throat. Taking Clementine by the hair, Peter pulled her face between the cheeks of Rhiannon’s bottom as Mr. Drach finished. Clementine knew exactly what was expected of her, licking eagerly at Rhiannon’s ass as Peter masturbated over the sight. Rhiannon got down, her bottom pushed high as she was prepared for Peter’s cock, her anus quickly relaxing and opening beneath Clementine’s tongue. Peter moved closer, still holding Clementine by the hair as he pushed his cock deep into her throat, withdrew, and pressed the head to Rhiannon’s anus.
Clementine continued to lick, her tongue flicking over Peter’s cock and Rhiannon’s bottom hole as he pushed himself slowly in. Soon he was deep in Rhiannon, and Clementine nuzzled down between their thighs to lick at Peter’s balls and her friend’s cunt as he took his pleasure in Rhiannon’s ass. Clementine’s own thighs were spread too, her fingers plucking at her cunt as she masturbated, even as Zoran arrived to ease his cock into her pussy. Miroslav joined in, settling his semi-stiff cock into Rhiannon’s mouth as she was sodomized, the taut and shiny ring of her sphincter now pulling and stretching around Peter’s increasingly rapid thrusts.
As he plunged into Rhiannon again and again, Peter was vaguely aware that Stephen and Kralj had gone indoors. He sped up, knowing that Michelle was more than likely to be ready to play, but wary of what the other men might do to her. Clementine opened her mouth wide to take in Peter’s balls, sucking hard to make him gasp with ecstasy right on the edge of pain. Rhiannon began to gag on Miroslav’s cock as the pumping in her rectum grew faster. A cry of pain rang out from somewhere behind him and Peter began to push faster still, desperate to see what was going on but too close to orgasm to hold back.
He came, ejaculating deep in Rhiannon’s rectum before pulling his cock free and sinking it as far down Clementine’s throat as it would go, hitting a second peak as he watched her eyes pop wide in shock, and a third just as a fresh cry of pain rang out from behind him. Cursing in surprise, he twisted around, to find no sign at all of Michelle. Although Felicity was in the living room, visible through the French doors as she licked at Stephen’s balls and cock while Kralj applied a cane to her naked bottom.
“Just a beating. Thank goodness for that,” he sighed, and looked down at Clementine. “Come on, Clemmie, swallow it all down like a good little girl. Your next booking won’t be half as much fun.”