Chapter Five

BY FRIDAY NIGHT, however, I was beginning to care.

Superhead invited me for a drink after the rehearsal again but I had to turn him down, so absorbed in getting to Sainsbury’s and stocking up for the night’s festivities was I. What did kinksters like to eat and drink? Kittens and absinthe? I settled on an easy pot-roast recipe, followed by a light pudding of mixed berries and cream. Didn’t want everyone too replete to – er, whatever. And an Australian Shiraz, to make Maz feel at home. Presumably they would bring a bottle or two themselves, and I had a few sticky bottles of old spirits knocking around the flat in case wine wasn’t a popular choice. Once again, it wouldn’t do to be getting too tipsy too quickly.

Back at the flat, I fell into a frenzy of decluttering and organisation of space. How should the furniture be arranged, if there was going to be kink? Should the floor be clear? Should I move the coffee table? Was there any free-standing piece of furniture to which handcuffs could be safely affixed?

I forced myself into the kitchen to attend to peeling vegetables instead. If things happened, they would happen. Trying to predict the evening’s events would just drive me into a state of nervous collapse. I needed to relax, take it easy. Maybe a glass of that Australian Shiraz …

By the time the bell rang, the flat smelled delicious and I was equally fragrant, dressed in a slinky black halterneck dress and stockings. Even if nothing happened, it seemed best to be prepared.

Justin and Maz were kitted out for a smart Friday night, Justin in a blue shirt and dark trousers, Maz in knee-length boots and a stretchy tube dress, her blonde hair swept up in a spiky topknot. They could have been any couple on the dinner-party circuit, were it not for the classic brown leather doctor’s bag Justin hefted on to the coffee table once I’d ushered them into the living room.

‘Is this OK?’ he asked, as I took their coats.

‘Oh, fine,’ I said, eyeing the bag with mingled curiosity and alarm. ‘It looks as if you’re here to give me a medical. Is there a stethoscope in there?’

Maz laughed. ‘No stethoscope, but plenty of things to get your pulse racing.’

‘Perhaps we should leave the contents of the bag for after dinner,’ cautioned Justin, but I was not sure I could wait.

‘Can’t I just have a sneak preview?’

Justin smiled evilly. ‘You want to start with a little bit of headspace play before dinner? Well, why not? OK, this is how it’s going to be, Keris. We do nothing that you aren’t happy with. As soon as things seem to be headed in a direction you don’t like, you stop by saying the word “Mars”.’

‘Mars?’

‘Well, yeah, it’s Maz’s safeword, so we tend to use it when other players join in too.’

‘OK. Mars. The god of war.’

‘Right.’ He smirked. ‘Before we start, I’ll explain a few things about us. I’m a top. I’m always a top. That’s what I am. Maz, on the other hand, is a switch. Usually, she’s submissive, but occasionally, especially when third, fourth or fifth parties are involved, she will top, either alone or with me. Is this clear so far?’

‘Wine?’ I offered the bottle, filling three glasses when they both nodded. ‘Er, yes. You always do the spanking and sometimes Maz joins in, if she’s in the mood, or she might prefer to take the pain instead.’

‘Exactly.’ He sat down, and Maz and I suddenly felt able to do the same. Justin had the strange knack of making you want to follow his lead. ‘So, if you want two spankers, you can have that. Or if you want somebody to share the pain, Maz is your girl. But tonight, since you say you’re new to all this, you’ll probably just want a one-on-one scene, and that’s fine. We don’t have any expectations, so there’s no pressure. Was there a particular script, so to speak, that you wanted to follow tonight?’

I thought about this. A script. A role play scenario. For me, part of the spanking fantasy was having responsibility for my sexuality taken away from me, so I was a little nonplussed at the idea of having to dictate the action. I was being asked to take control of my loss of control. It was almost too paradoxical to contemplate.

‘I kind of always fantasise about the idea of punishment,’ I told him. ‘Like, I’ve done something bad – or I’m just a bad person. A dirty girl, or whatever. So … something like that, I suppose.’

‘Something like that? Or that?’

Justin tipped back his glass, eyes narrowed behind the specs, and suddenly he looked so cold and severe that I shuddered.

‘I’m sorry, I’m not used to talking about this stuff, I …’ I shrugged and hugged my arms around me, intimidated and yet thirsting for more intimidation.

‘No, let’s get this clear,’ he said, putting down his glass. ‘You want to be punished.’

‘Yeah,’ I whispered.

‘So your fantasy involves an authority figure who is displeased with you?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘And is this authority figure a person who is close to you in your life? I mean, is he administering loving correction? Or is he a sadist who just gets off on hurting you?’

‘Sometimes one, sometimes the other.’

‘Right. Some submissives like the whole Daddy thing –’

‘Oh, no, no. That’s not for me. If it’s loving correction, it’s a boyfriend or husband in the fantasy.’

‘OK, so that’s clear. Which one is it going to be tonight?’

‘Tonight, well, there’s dinner, isn’t there? So I think, uh, you’re my boss. Somebody I work for. Maz might be your secretary, or your wife. Either way, I’ve been invited to account for something. Maybe some problem with my expenses … and after dinner, it’s understood that I’m going to be punished. Is that …? I mean, it’s a bit ad hoc, but could that work?’

‘That could work very well.’ Justin picked up the bag and unlocked it. ‘You’re my secretary. Maz is my wife. I’m coming round tonight to get to the bottom of some missing petty cash, and Maz is my witness. You will call me Mr Masters – or sir, of course.’

I had stopped listening. The bag was open. Pandora’s Bag.

Spilling from the worn brown leather were paddles, straps, whippy things with many strings, hairbrushes, riding crops, the full de Sade works. Only the cane was absent, presumably because of its impractical length.

He snapped the bag shut again and my mouth followed suit.

‘Shall we begin?’

I nodded. Maz came around to stand beside Justin, her sweet, open face suddenly grave.

I actually gulped, like somebody out of a Fifties comic strip, but Justin had the air of suppressed authoritative menace down to a fine art.

‘So, Miss Delray,’ he intoned, folding his arms. ‘You may not have realised, but I have an ulterior motive in coming here tonight. I’ve been checking the petty cash supply.’ He paused, eyebrow raised, waiting for me to fall into the big hole he was digging for me.

I think I probably paled. It all seemed so real. Ersatz, but no less effective, guilt crept into my consciousness, knocking all the confidence out of me.

‘Oh,’ I said.

‘Oh? Is that all you can say? I’m finding it a little short. Actually, more than a little. Short to the tune of 57 pounds and 33 pence. How do you account for this?’

‘I’m not an accountant,’ I pleaded.

He sneered.

‘So you’re saying it’s a mistake? A question of poor arithmetical training?’

‘Uh, probably.’

‘But I know there was more than a hundred pounds in there three days ago, Miss Delray. So I’m not entirely sure you’re being honest with me.’

Oh. So I was dishonest rather than incompetent. In that case, I needed to come up with some bluster.

‘It, hang on, I think, um, yeah, the fan broke so I had to buy another! That’s right! I remember now.’

‘You had the fan on in mid-November?’

‘I, um, just felt a bit hot, you know?’

‘No. I don’t think I do. Why am I paying for central heating in your office if you’re turning on the fan? This gets worse by the minute. You incriminate yourself every time you open your mouth. If I were you, Miss Delray, I’d stop digging.’

I put down my metaphorical spade and dropped my eyes to the floor. Something bad was coming. Something good-bad-good. My pulse raced and a wave of nausea rocked through my body.

‘I’m still waiting,’ he said stridently, ‘for a word of apology. Even if you can’t be honest with me.’

‘Sorry, sir,’ I whispered.

‘You will be. Now, you are going to serve us our dinner and, while we eat, I am going to consider the thorny problem of how to deal with you.’

‘Shit! The veg is boiling over!’ I exclaimed, racing to the kitchen.

Maybe not the best end to that particular scene, but it was true.

While I dished up, I let my heart rate return to normal, retrospectively admiring Justin’s diabolical knack for this kind of thing. I had lost my appetite and didn’t want to think about digesting the French peasant-style chicken thing I was ladling on to the plates. Considering I had been ravenous since the rehearsal, this was quite an achievement.

What was he going to do to me? Did we have to stay in role throughout the meal? How was I going to?

‘Smells gorgeous.’

Maz had crept up behind me, smiling in a very non-irate-boss’s-wife way.

‘Thanks. Are we …?’

‘Justin thought we could drop the role play for the first course and get back into it during dessert. Pretty harsh on the old digestive system otherwise.’

‘I was just thinking that.’

I allowed myself to breathe in the heavenly aroma of the food. My appetite returned. This sex-play stuff was like magic. Powerful, psychic enchantment.

As we ate our casserole, we chatted about work and kink.

I hadn’t been able to tell my guests that I was a schoolteacher - I feared the response it evoked in people and besides, I felt the need to keep my new friends at arm’s length, at least initially. Self-preservation of a sort.

But they couldn’t fail to notice the upright piano in the corner of the room, so I told them I gave private music lessons.

‘Are you like James Mason in that movie?’

I laughed.

‘Seventh Veil? I can’t tell you how often I’ve watched that. He’s so exquisitely cruel in it. I longed for a piano teacher like him – I was warped even as a youngster. But instead I had a lovely kind old lady. The disappointments of life, eh?’

Justin and Maz smiled sympathetically.

‘You always knew you were kinky?’ Maz asked.

‘I think so. Flipped through my Enid Blytons for the spanking scenes, felt funny when people got tied up on television, all of that. I don’t know why. I tend to think it’s either innate or something that happens in the wiring long before we know about it.’

‘It’d be interesting to find out,’ said Justin with a nod. ‘I suppose the psychologists are working on it as we speak.’

‘I wish they’d come up with a conclusion,’ added Maz. ‘I wish I didn’t feel the need to keep this under wraps. It’s not something I chose – it chose me.’

My eyes filled with tears.

‘Oh, sweetie,’ said Maz, putting out a hand and patting mine. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yeah, fine.’ I choked them back. ‘Just… It’s weird … and wonderful to know I’m not the only person who feels this way.’

‘You’re welcome, hon,’ she said. Then she turned to Justin. ‘We could do a piano teacher scene sometime. How awesome would that be?’

‘Oh, I’d love that!’ I said. ‘Why didn’t I think of that before?’

‘We’ve got all the time in the world,’ said Justin, laying down his knife and fork. ‘We can play every scene you ever imagined.’

‘Then you’re going to need all the time in the world.’

All this amicability and bonhomie was forgotten at the advent of the summer berries with their frosting of confectioner’s sugar. The thump of the accompanying jug of cream on to the table was like the knell of doom.

Justin pushed his glasses back up his nose, and Maz went from vibrant to muted in the time it took for me to pour. Switch was a good word for her. She seemed able to turn it on and off at will.

I sat down and pushed some blueberries around in the cream with my spoon.

‘May I ask, sir,’ I faltered, daring to eye Justin from under my drooping brow, ‘what you mean to do?’

‘I mean to eat my pudding,’ said Justin severely. ‘How about you?’

‘No, I mean to me. What do you mean to do to me?’

‘So you accept that you deserve punishment?’

‘No! I didn’t do anything! I didn’t steal the money. I bought a new fan, like I said …’ My words were cutting no ice. I wondered about wheeling out the tears, but I wasn’t great at emotional scenes, so I simply pouted and tapped my spoon on the side of my bowl in a rebellious manner.

‘I won’t be scowled at over the table,’ said Justin quietly. ‘Put down your spoon and place yourself in the corner, beside the piano. Nose to the wall.’

What should I do? Should I play the malcontent and refuse? I thought about the dynamic – boss and secretary. I had to have respect for him – he paid my wages, after all. Besides, I saw enough sulky bratty behaviour at work and it rather bored me. I decided to obey.

The corner. The place to be. A place I had often dreamed of being.

Now I was there, it wasn’t all that. The wall was cold, numbing my nose, and it was boring. The boss and his wife didn’t seem to have much to say to each other, so my only entertainment was the clinking of spoons against china and my own furtive imagination. What was Justin going to do to me? Would he send me back here afterwards? How would I be feeling? How long would it go on for?

The clinking stopped and Justin spoke – his voice low, only just loud enough for me to pick up.

‘So, what do you think, Marianne? What’s a suitable punishment for our light-fingered miscreant?’

‘Well, she needs a firm lesson,’ said Maz. ‘That’s for sure. She still hasn’t admitted her fault, or apologised for it. It’ll have to be harder because of that.’

‘I’m inclined to agree.’

A prickly silence fell, during which the heat and wetness between my legs clamoured for attention I was not able to give. Being discussed like this, in my hearing but without any respect for my presence, was so very arousing. The tension was building too far, too fast. I wanted to let out a moan. But then I might miss their next words.

‘She needs a good, long spanking,’ was Maz’s verdict. ‘Several implements. Maybe the strap and one of the wooden paddles. Get that bum good and red. To be honest, perhaps we should have done this in front of the other staff – made an example of her.’

‘Well, perhaps if the offence is ever repeated … Though I hope any thought of that will be long gone, by the time I’m finished with her.’

Another gulp. A throb of the clit. Breath coming hard and fast. Cold nose, warm cunt. Is that the saying?

‘Well, then.’ Chair legs scraping back, footsteps, something being placed on the floor – most likely that same chair. ‘Come here, Miss Delray.’

I turned around to see Justin sitting on the chair, the medical bag at his side, palms flat on his thighs, leaning forward a little. Maz stood behind him, smiling grimly.

As I walked across the floor, Justin rolled up his shirtsleeves.

The moan came out. I couldn’t help it.

‘Over my lap, Miss Delray.’

Justin’s lap was narrower than Stuart’s, his legs longer and bonier, so I drooped a little more on either side of him. The position was not uncomfortable, but the embarrassing consciousness of it – and of Maz’s eyes on me – was.

‘I don’t suppose you thought, when you helped yourself to our petty cash, that it would land you up in this position,’ said Justin, his hand making patterns on the fabric of my dress, pulling and stroking it over my proffered rump. ‘Ready to be spanked like a naughty little girl, while my wife watches. That’s what happens to employees who behave badly in our company, Miss Delray. They get this one chance to learn from their mistakes. Believe me, if it happens again, you will have the full audience before you get your cards. Warehousemen, cleaners, the lot. They will all witness your shame. So learn from this. Are you ready?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I blurted out of nowhere.

‘At last!’ said Maz brightly. ‘But I’m sorry too, missy. It’s too little too late. Don’t spare her, J.’

‘I won’t.’

His hand fell, hard and abrupt, on the thin material of my dress. I knew then that this was going to be long and it was going to be hard. I would be glad of that second glass of wine with its mild analgesic property.

After a series of smacks, maybe twenty in total, all over my thinly-covered bottom, Maz urged Justin to lift up the dress.

‘Lovely panties,’ she said, once they were on view. ‘They’ll have to come down later, of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Justin, caressing the lace, sliding a finger underneath to test the warmth his hand had imparted to my skin. ‘Nowhere near hot enough yet.’

Another volley of cracks penetrated the frothy laciness, causing my flesh to jiggle and my teeth to grit. I did not want to make a sound until I absolutely had to. I wanted to show these people that I was no lightweight and they didn’t have to go easy on me.

I curled my toes and my fingers, held my breath tight and still in the centre of my ribcage, but eventually I gave way and had to gasp.

He chose that moment to pull down my knickers.

Strange man and strange woman looking at my arse, checking it for heat and redness, could it be real? My overthinking head interfered with the scene, refusing to allow me to let go and swim into the fantasy. I could only think of the absurdities and practicalities. I was not in the headspace.

Perhaps if he spanked my bare flesh …

Soon my thoughts were broken up and overwhelmed by the intensity of the pain. Stop, don’t stop, racing through my head in a rhythm that echoed Justin’s swats, small squeals coming thick and fast.

He began to lecture me, and then it happened – then I fell. I was the secretary, being punished, learning her lesson, thinking about how much I deserved this and how determined I was not to let it happen again.

‘I can see by your compliance that you’re starting to feel penitent,’ said Justin. ‘Am I right?’

A low, suffering ‘Yes,’ fell from my lips. I was beginning to jerk right and left across his lap, trying to angle my bottom away from his endlessly descending hand, but my room for manoeuvre was small and I was doomed to failure.

‘I hope that, every time you open and shut that petty cash box, you think about what’s happening today. I don’t want you to be able to handle cash without remembering how sore your bottom was. And remember, we will both be watching you very carefully from now on. Imagine this happening in front of everyone in the company. That will be the next step in the disciplinary procedure.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I panted.

His hand fell for the last time.

‘I hope so,’ he said.

He rubbed my skin, in a slow and thoughtful manner. I remembered that I was incredibly turned on, something I had forgotten amidst the pain, and tried to clamp my thighs tight, hoping I hadn’t given myself away.

His continuing scientific survey of my hot behind did little to help my concealment of this, however, and I almost wanted him to start spanking again, to deflect attention from it.

‘Good,’ he said at last. ‘You’re starting to understand that your actions have consequences. But I’m afraid I’m not finished yet. I have to be satisfied that you have truly learned your lesson first.’

‘I have,’ I said quickly, but he chuckled and patted my rear in an indulgent fashion.

‘Still trying to pull the wool over my eyes?’ he said. ‘No. Go and bend over the arm of the sofa, please. Marianne, can you find me the short leather strap?’

Oh, woe was me as I bent my spine in the recommended pose, gripping the arm for dear life. Stuart had me like this when he used his belt on me. The memory strengthened me, a little something to hang on to.

The sting, once it was imparted to my flesh, was like a sweet reminder. At least, it was for the first few strokes. If I shut my eyes, I could imagine Stuart behind me, flexing that doughty naval forearm, strong fingers gripping the thick leather.

Oh God, I wish you’d come back. You’re the sailor, but it’s me who’s at sea here.

By the fifth or sixth slap of cowhide on girlhide, the sweet memory was fading, replaced by the immediacy of the burn. The heat was penetrating below the protective outer layers of my skin, sending a throbbing alarm call from my arse to the rest of my body. Particularly those that were implicated in sex.

I began to yell with each stroke, losing my grip. What was that word? Mars. No, I didn’t want to use it. Not yet.

Justin gave me twenty then dropped the strap.

‘Not so cocksure now, are we?’ he said. ‘What do you have to say to me now?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I whimpered, again. I was a shivering mess, my face pressed into the sofa. It hurt, but it hadn’t hurt enough yet. I needed more. I needed the pain to obliterate me.

‘You’re doing very well,’ said Maz reassuringly. In role or out? I couldn’t tell any more. They were both tormentors, regardless of what act they put on. They wanted to hurt me. They wanted to see me suffer.

I wanted them to see me suffer.

‘Just a little bit more, just to make sure,’ said Justin, and his voice was gentle. ‘We need to finish the job off properly. Marianne, the paddle.’

I didn’t know what to expect, never having felt anything wooden against my buttocks before, but the first stroke soon shook me out of my doubt.

I screamed.

How many of these could I take? Surely no more than three? Unlike the elegant sting of the strap, this packed a brutal punch, settling itself straight down into my deep tissues and staying there. I would be bruised in the morning.

‘Oh my God!’ I yelled. ‘That hurts.’

Justin laughed, and Maz joined in.

‘Looks like we’ve found our implement,’ said Justin. ‘This is the one to use when we want to send a serious message.’

He slapped it down in the centre of my bum, harder than before.

‘How many before you crack?’ he mused.

I made it to seven, somehow, by a combination of violent wriggling, shrieking and kicking, but I had to invoke the god of war when I found myself vaulting over the sofa arm away from my varnished wooden nemesis.

Maz’s face was bright with delight while Justin slapped the paddle into his hand, shaking his head in mock-disappointment.

I knelt on a foetal position on the sofa, clutching my throbbing bottom.

‘Get back into position,’ commanded Justin.

I raised bleary eyes to his.

‘But I said the –’

‘I know. The spanking is over. I just want you back in position. OK?’

Reluctantly, fearing some kind of trick, I moved back. Were they going to turn out to be serial killers after all?

Justin’s hand felt my bottom, stroking it all over.

‘I just need to ask you something, Keris,’ he said softly.

‘Oh, what?’

‘Sometimes people just want a spanking. Sometimes they want a little bit … more. Now we can stop right here, or we can … It’s up to you.’

His hand on my arse sent waves of need along the channel and into my pussy. How should I answer this question? It seemed my cunt wanted to answer it for me.

‘I like to be touched,’ I whispered.

‘OK,’ he whispered back. ‘I can do that that. Unless you’d like Maz?’

‘You.’

His fingers walked a slow path from the crack of my bum past my perineum, stopping to glide a light circle around my vagina before finding my clit.

‘Oh yes, you’re very wet,’ he told me, unnecessarily. ‘You’re definitely the kind of naughty girl who needs our attention.’

He kept one hand on the small of my back while the other continued its explorations, settling into a firm fingering rhythm that made me rock and twist beneath him.

From the corner of my eye I could see Maz, transfixed, one of her hands pressed into the front of her smart skirt, the polished fingernails sliding gently up and down.

‘Spread your legs wider for me,’ instructed Justin and I obeyed instantly, pushing my wet sex on to his busy hand, feeling the cheeks of my arse open to give him the full view. ‘You really needed this, didn’t you? This is the kind of treatment that works for you. A sound spanking followed by a good fingering, in front of my wife. We’ll have to make this a regular event – perhaps your work performance will improve if we do this every Friday. What do you think?’

I didn’t think anything. Thought was out there somewhere. I was all sex, all submission, all dirty little slut. And it felt like where I was meant to be.

‘That’s definitely what we should do,’ said Maz, in a lower voice than usual. ‘She needs it hard and often.’

I came, half-sobbing, hiding my face in a cushion.

Well satisfied, Justin withdrew his fingers and patted my bum with them, leaving a sticky cold patch on the residually warm globes.

‘Do you want a hug?’ he asked.

I nodded and he came to sit beside me, pulling me into a tight embrace on his knee, stroking my hair. My bottom hurt when I sat on his thigh, but it was a wonderful, glowing kind of hurt that I hoped might last for ever.

‘Was that everything you wanted it to be?’ he asked.

I looked for my voice, which came out in a breathless rush.

‘Oh God, yes. Thank you so much. It was amazing.’

‘It’s all going to happen at your pace, Keris. Whatever you’re ready for, we can do.’

‘You’re so good at this. I feel like I’ve landed on my feet with you two.’

‘Thanks,’ said Justin, and Maz joined in with a little “aww” of approbation. ‘That means a lot to us.’

The hug went on until I felt I could almost fall asleep, safe and tired and protected. But eventually, Justin cleared his throat and shifted slightly, so that I felt the rude protrusion inside his trousers.

‘Another question for you,’ he said, with an embarrassed smile. ‘How do you feel about sex?’

‘Sex?’

‘Maz and I … You know, we get quite turned on by spanking. If you like, you can go into the bedroom while we sort ourselves out. Or you can watch. Or even, y’know, join in …’

‘Oh, wow, I’m so sorry, I feel I’ve been horribly selfish.’

‘Submission is a bit of a head trip,’ said Maz with an understanding squeeze of my arm. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘Please, I, er, is it really OK if I watch?’

‘Absolutely,’ said Justin. ‘We love being watched. Don’t we, Maz?’

‘Too right. We even put footage up on the internet sometimes. With pixellated faces, obviously.’

‘Well, then, be my guests,’ I said. ‘Since you are. Literally. My guests.’

‘Cool,’ said Maz. ‘You get comfy there. I think the floor will do for us, if you just bung us a couple of cushions.’

Justin had tipped me off his lap and was unbuttoning his shirt. I helped Maz construct a kind of cushion-bed on the rug and retired to the sofa with my wine glass. I wondered whether to fetch my spectacles, but thought that might be bad manners. I would have to be content with a slight blur.

Maz took off her shoes and lay down, staring up at Justin as he disrobed.

‘Aren’t you going to strip?’ he asked, unbuckling his belt.

She lifted her bottom off the floor and unzipped her skirt, shucking it off with a sensual wriggle, then set to work on her shirt. Her underwear, I was quite intrigued to discover, was made of skintight black latex, including the suspender belt. Who would have known what lurked beneath the smart dinner-party chic? I felt my clit spark into life again and had to change position, tucking a leg beneath me.

Oh God, the knickers were crotchless. I began to dampen. She had been wearing crotchless knickers at my dinner table all night. Did Justin order her to? I was tempted to touch myself, but I was too fascinated by the sight in front of me, and I didn’t want to distract them.

Justin, down to his boxers, stood over Maz, nudging her feet apart with his toe.

‘Now I can see how hot you are for it,’ he said. ‘Dirty little beast with your cunt wide open all night. How much do you want it?’

‘I need to be fucked, J,’ said Maz. ‘Real bad.’

‘Don’t you? First I want you to put your fingers in that slit and show me how much.’

She moaned and moved a hand between the gap in the latex. Wasn’t that awfully hot to wear? Her skin shone, but it wasn’t clear what kind of heat had produced the sheen. I watched as her manicured fingers got slick and wet, her face pinkening with the effort.

‘Keris is getting quite a show,’ said Justin. ‘I bet she’s never seen a slut like you before, a slut who’ll do anything with anyone. You’ll have to tell her how many people have had you sometime. Mind you, she’ll catch up with you one day, I guess. I think she needs a bit of what you’re going to get. Get those legs really wide, show her that soaking cunt of yours.’

Maz, gasping, did as she was told.

Justin dropped his boxers, his cock stiff and thick. I wanted it inside me, but I had to let Maz have her reward for services rendered. I would just have to watch and wait my turn, if I was to be allowed one.

‘OK, enough of that,’ he said. ‘Get on all fours and push that arse out for me.’

Maz rolled over and knelt up. The split in the latex crotch continued up the back of the knickers, exposing her bottom in a broad circle. It seemed wrong to call them knickers, somehow, since they didn’t do the job. What would be a good name for them? Sex pants, maybe.

Her pert white bottom gleamed between the boundaries of wet-look blackness, while her shaved pussy was well spread and juicy. Even I wanted to fuck it. If only I had a strap-on.

‘Now, I want you to ask me nicely,’ said Justin, kneeling and taking his cock in hand, preparing for the penetration.

‘Please, sir, may I be fucked?’ moaned Maz.

‘You may.’ The tip of his cock lined up with the tiny target, butting it gently. ‘How hard should I fuck you?’

‘As hard as you want, sir.’

‘That’s right. And where should I put my cock?’

I bit my lip, too tense to breathe.

‘Wherever you want to, sir.’

‘Good. I’m going to use your cunt tonight, since Keris is new to all this. Keep it nice and tight for me.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Now get your eyes off the floor and look at Keris while you’re getting fucked.’

She groaned, seemingly unwilling, but she lifted her head, turned it to the side and stared straight at me. It was most disconcerting. I hid my face in the wine glass, peering narrowly over the rim at her.

Justin’s cock slid inside, disappearing inch by inch, until his pelvis made contact with her bum. He took hold of her hips and began to thrust, slowly at first, so that I saw his pole glisten with her juices as it made its inexorable back and forth motion.

‘Oh, you are keeping it tight, good slut,’ he said, reaching down to squeeze a rubber breast. ‘Nipples good and hard, can you see them, Keris?’

‘Yeah,’ I coughed. Mine weren’t exactly flat.

‘I wish you could feel how tight and hot she is,’ he said to me. ‘She’s a fucking dream of a cunt.’

I put my glass down. It was no use. I was going to have to masturbate. My knickers were hanging off one ankle so it was easy enough to get a hand under my skirt and begin a frantic massage of my clit.

Maz looked so luscious, her face faraway and dreamy even though her eyes were still fixed in my direction. Justin was speeding up, his lean torso bent over her arched back, his cock beginning to pound.

‘Of course, I prefer a nice red arse, like yours, Keris,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘But I can make an exception. Oh, are you frigging yourself? You bad girl.’

He turned his head and grinned at me. My fingers pushed down harder.

He removed one hand from Maz’s hips and dipped it down between her sex lips, swirling it round and round. Then he took the juiced tip of one finger and began to circle her arsehole with it.

My jaw dropped. I was going to come. This was too much.

The finger plunged inside Maz’s bum and she cried out, her eyes glazed, then shut. She was coming.

My own orgasm coincided with Justin’s, my watery whimper drowned by his roar of triumph.

‘Mmm,’ said Justin, his finger still plugging that hole. ‘Keris got a really good show. She watched you getting fucked with your arse filled too. How does that make you feel?’

‘Ashamed,’ said Maz quietly. ‘Humiliated.’

‘Good. So it should.’

He pulled out the finger and smacked her bum, leaving a handprint. She flopped forward on to her stomach.

‘Do you have any tissues, Keris?’ he asked politely, and I sprang into action at once, hurrying into the kitchen to wash my hands and get a wad of kitchen roll for my guests.

When I returned, Justin was already back in his shirt, while Maz lay, rumpled and gorgeous, spread all over my cushions.

They cleaned themselves up and began to dress again, utterly comfortable with themselves and their outrageous sexual habits. I envied them. Could I ever be so free?

‘What did you think, Keris?’ asked Justin. ‘I hope we didn’t alarm you.’

‘No, not at all. God, that was hot. Like that underwear must be.’

Maz grinned, pulling her skirt over the questionable “knickers”.

‘Do you like it? I feel so frisky when I wear it. I mean, I was dying for a shag all through dinner. You should get some.’

‘Maybe I will. So … That was good for you?’

Maz’s eyes opened wide. ‘Well, duh!’ she said.

‘Just … You looked as if you were about to cry at one point. And then you said that stuff about feeling ashamed and humiliated.’

‘That’s what gets me off.’ She sounded a little put out.

‘Yeah, of course, I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m used to those words having negative connotations. It’s odd to hear them used like that, in a sexual context.’

‘Oh yeah, you get used to it,’ she said offhandedly, buttoning her shirt. ‘Or at least, you will if you want to keep on with this stuff. Do you?’

‘I think I do,’ I said.

‘Good. Maybe we can do something next weekend then?’

‘Maybe.’