Suzanne worked at a hospital where the nurses’ uniforms were a bit too short in the skirt for her taste, although her best friend, Marie, really looked good in hers. They had come up through nursing school together and found their first posting together - two years in the Geriatric Ward of Waterman Town Centre hospital.
Sue quickly settled into her new routine. Her life revolved around the ward with its cold blue tiles, coughing old men, the endless beeps and groans of the life-support machines, and sharing a small rented apartment with Marie. She was happy enough, but she felt something must be missing. And then, one morning, she had a shock.
She had just arrived home from her nightshift and was taking her tea when Marie dashed across their small kitchen, obviously late for her own shift. She was naked, and her lovely breasts were still wet from the shower. She was running a towel through her damp blonde curls, and shaking water off her body like some parody of an erotic dancer, in an effort to dry herself as quickly as possible.
‘Can I borrow a uniform, Sue?’ she asked, not seeming to notice the colour rushing into her roommate’s cheeks. ‘I’m dead if I don’t get out of here in two minutes flat!’
Sue nodded, somewhat taken aback by the request, and lowered her eyes to her steaming mug of tea. Marie dashed off again down the short hall, a tuft of blonde hair peeking out below the tight white cheeks of her bottom between her slender thighs. Sue realised with horror that she could not stop staring at it until Marie disappeared into her room. She had honestly never thought about her friend in any way resembling... well, she had never thought of her sexually, even though she did enjoy shopping for clothes with her and helping her pick out the tightest outfits, the skimpiest lingerie and the smallest bathing tops...
‘Must dash! You’re an angel!’ Marie breezed into the kitchen again, barely able to finish zipping Sue’s slightly smaller uniform over her full, bra-free breasts. She gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and Sue found herself reaching up to touch her face in wonder as the door slammed closed behind her friend.
This will certainly not do, Sue thought sternly as she walked into hospital that night to begin a new shift. She had spent a restless day in bed tossing and turning, unable to sleep. She was pretty tired now and she had not even started work yet.
All day long, visions of Marie - Marie with her blonde curls peeping out from between the tops of her toned thighs; Marie with her firm, lovely breasts jewelled by water droplets; Marie’s gorgeous face gazing at her anxiously as she dried her naked body off with a towel - haunted her and would not let her sleep in peace. She had found herself reaching down between her legs and feeling the wetness there, and then a delicious explosion would rock her body at the thought of sinking to her knees before the wetness Marie had been drying between her thighs, and burying her face in it...
She entered the Geriatric Unit. An old man was shuffling out of the cold Victorian toilet and returning slowly to his bed. A light had been left on at the nurses’ desk. Usually there were more nurses around at the change of shift, and stepping behind the desk, Sue found a note that explained their absence. The staff was short tonight because two of the Sisters were out with the flu.
‘Hi!’
Suzanne suddenly felt soft, familiar hands covering her eyes from behind.
‘Marie,’ she whispered.
‘Got it in one!’ Giggling, Marie moved around to face her. She was still wearing Sue’s uniform, and it really was much too small for her. On Marie, the skirt - which even on Sue was too short - was a sexy mini, and the tightness of the bodice straining to contain her generous breasts made her look utterly voluptuous. Her appearance was completely improper for a professional nurse, especially since she had let the zipper down a little in front to relieve the pressure on her bosom, offering a teasing view of her luscious cleavage to anyone who cared to look.
‘Guess who’s been drafted to pull a double shift?’ Marie made a disgruntled face for a half-hearted second before her usual smile returned. ‘But guess who’s also found us a nice little earner?’
Sue gazed at her with a puzzled expression.
Marie pulled her deeper into the recesses behind the Sister’s desk as if to make sure no one in the dark ward could hear her. ‘There’s no one here tonight,’ she whispered conspiratorially.
The accidental touch of her friend’s soft, warm breasts against her arm made Sue shiver. ‘That’s right,’ she acknowledged, unable to look Marie in the eye. It was embarrassing having her so close, and she was ashamed of her secret physical reaction. Stop it! she thought, admonishing her body, stop it right now!
‘We’ve got a live one in private room seven,’ Marie went on, oblivious to her friend’s internal struggle.
‘Mr Walker?’ Sue welcomed the distraction. ‘He’s harmless enough, a nice old boy.’
‘A nice old boy who offered me two-hundred pounds to strip for him!’ Marie exclaimed beneath her breath.
‘He did what?’ Sue was stunned.
‘I know,’ Marie sounded equally shocked, but evidently for a different reason, ‘the cheapskate! I got him to make it five-hundred for the two of us.’ She smiled wickedly into her friend’s eyes.
Sue was even more stunned. ‘You got... but I... but I can’t,’ she gasped. ‘You’re crazy, Marie!’
‘Not even for me?’ Her roommate pouted even while fixing her with a challenging stare.
Sue’s cheeks coloured in alarm, for she knew what was coming and she would have to struggle to resist the mental arm-twisting.
‘Not even for your best friend, who desperately needs the money, and who let you move into her flat when you had nowhere else to go?’
That was unfair, but true nonetheless, and Sue found her resistance wilting as her breathing became shaky. ‘Do we really have to?’ she asked weakly.
‘I do need the money,’ Marie whispered seductively, and clearly sensing victory, she picked this perfect moment to stroke Sue’s silky fringe away from her flushed brow. Their bodies were pressed up against each other’s in the small alcove behind the desk, one set of curves gently moulding into another. ‘You know I do, Sue,’ she murmured. ‘And besides, he’s a bit of an old codger, but it might be fun.’
Sue swallowed hard and closed her eyes so Marie would not see her thoughts as she nodded reluctantly.
Mr Walker’s room was filled with shadows; only a single lamp was lit by the elderly man’s bed where he lay snoring lightly. Marie crept into the room first, and then waved Sue in after glancing quickly up and down the corridor to make sure no one else was about. They could all die up and down the ward for the next half hour, Sue thought, yet strangely enough, she could not find it in herself to feel guilty about her frivolously unprofessional attitude. She was far too excited about being with Marie as she followed the sexy, shapely form of her friend into the quiet room.
Although Sue had never been consciously attracted to another female before, Marie looked absolutely mouth-watering to her now as she bent over the old man’s bed. Mr Walker stirred, and his snoring came to an abrupt halt as his eyes squinted open, and caught sight of Marie’s half unzipped dress looming over his face.
‘If you’ve got the money now, Mr Walker,’ she leaned in closer to him as she spoke softly, ‘I believe you have a private show to enjoy.’
With her help the man struggled up into a sitting position, and supported by numerous pillows, he counted out a small pile of notes onto the mobile table used for meals and wheeled into place beside him by the nurses. Ten crisp fifty-pound notes now lay on the table. Marie made to pick them up, but the old man’s hand moved with surprising swiftness to slap her arm away. ‘Not before the curtain falls,’ he said. ‘I want to see the warm-up act first.’ He looked directly at Sue, and she realised with a small shock that she would have to undress in front of both of them to get things rolling.
‘You didn’t say I’d have to do this cold,’ she complained beneath her breath to Marie when her friend walked encouragingly up beside her.
‘Keep him sweet,’ Marie whispered, ‘we could get more out of him if we do this right.’ She glanced back at the old man wearing her sexiest smile.
Mr Walker’s wallet was under his pillow again, but it was by no means empty. He sat up a little higher, his yellow hands clutching the sheet over his chest, and gazed lecherously at Sue’s shapely bottom as she turned away coyly before slowly pulling her crisp uniform up over her head without unzipping it. Then she stood waiting, her back still to him, wondering what on earth she was doing standing there only in her white bra, white stockings and suspenders, and small white panties.
‘Come here, my dear girl,’ the old man said in a dry, raspy voice.
Her belly churning, she turned to face both patient and nurse, and she blushed as much from the feel of Marie’s eyes on her body as from the old man’s stare as he crooked a finger to beckon her closer.
Anxiously glancing at Marie, Sue found herself obeying him until she stood beside her friend again. Her thighs brushed the edge of the bed close beside him, easily within his reach should he want to touch her, but all he did was point at her panties. She blushed even more deeply, understanding his silent demand.
Marie nodded once, encouraging her to carry on, and Sue was stunned to see a fierce light burning in her friend’s eyes. She looked away quickly, yet she found herself obeying the sensuous nurse as she eased her panties down, and shivered to feel the cool air of the quiet room kiss her bare bottom... and worse, it made her shamefully conscious of the wetness between her thighs as she slipped the fine cotton all the way down her legs to the floor. She stepped out of them daintily, and that left only her bra, stockings and suspenders.
The old man’s eyes devoured the nubile vision before him. ‘Now you help your friend,’ he instructed.
Still blushing furiously, Sue found herself reaching for Marie.
When they had both lost their uniforms, Sue could not help but wonder at how beautiful her friend was, and at her nearly uncontrollable desire to kiss and suck her large breasts. She wanted to sink to her knees before Marie right then and there and bury her face in the tight wet curls of her intoxicatingly fragrant pubic hair... she gasped, distracted from her fantasy when she suddenly felt one of the old man’s hands on her bare buttocks.
Marie said firmly, ‘No touching, unless you want to pay more.’
Negotiations ensued, but the old man’s hand remained possessively on Sue’s bottom for the duration. Finally he and Marie had agreed on the terms and Sue felt his clammy, possessive touch slip away. She realised then that she should have been listening. Apparently, the touching to be allowed was not to be done by Mr Walker. She saw his wallet appear from beneath the pillow again, and ten more notes were counted out on the table, only to disappear into Marie’s discarded uniform.
Strangely dazed, Sue heard words floating in the air before her, but for some bizarre reason she could not string them together to make any sense. She heard her name mentioned, but she could not seem to concentrate on the dialogue and what it meant. It was as though the whole scene was turning into a dream in which she was completely powerless to do anything while her behaviour was manipulated for pleasure and profit.
She watched Marie elegantly perch herself on the edge of the wooden table over the old man’s bed, and spread her legs. Her friend then beckoned to her without a word, and Sue found herself climbing up over Mr Walker’s blankets, her knees on either side of him so her bare bottom was presented directly before his appreciative face. She was between Marie’s gloriously parted thighs, looking up into her gorgeous friend’s hypnotic eyes.
‘Kiss me,’ Marie whispered with a hint of triumphant mischief. ‘It’s all for a good cause.’
Sue’s head sank willingly into the heady scent of Marie’s blonde curls, her mouth hanging open in breathless gratitude.
Marie’s head rolled back, and she groaned deep in her throat, inhaling sharply as Sue’s first tentative kisses became more confident and her tongue found its way deep into her hot, wet furrow. She licked softly and insistently until her friend came on the small table with a shudder that made her breasts quiver.
Marie quickly recovered herself, however, and giggled as the old man’s wallet once again emerged from behind the pillows. ‘Don’t move,’ she instructed in a firm but friendly voice, and utterly dazed now, Sue held her position, Marie’s wetness shining on her cheeks, her naked bottom still presented to the old man’s face. She did not truly comprehend what he said; she heard only his wheezy snigger and the soft rustling of money being counted again. And then Marie slipped down from her perch and whispered, ‘Hold on, darling, it won’t take him long.’
‘Take him long for what?’ Sue gasped, but Marie simply moved the table away, guided her a little further down the bed, and then held firmly on to her wrists. Sue looked helplessly up into her flatmate’s eyes. ‘What do you want me to do now?’ she asked softly.
‘Just hold still,’ Marie replied, and leaned over to kiss her lips. It was a gentle kiss, a lovely kiss, so soft and affectionate that Sue became wonderfully lost in it, only realising as it went on that it was distracting her from what was happening behind her...
The old man’s leathery and bony hand was touching her bottom again. She felt it move away, there was a pause during which she held her breath and closed her eyes, and then he spanked her naked cheeks. She gasped in pain, because his hand was as tough as a wicker carpet beater.
‘You naughty young thing!’ He wheezed, and spanked her again with amazing strength.
‘Mm!’ she tried to protest, but Marie’s kiss was too insistent, her tongue darting around hers and weakening her resistance.
‘You naughty, naughty thing!’ the old man repeated sternly. ‘How dare you wake me up and then do what you just did with your friend, right in front of me, on my bed? I’m going to give you the spanking your behaviour deserves!’
Never before had Sue been spanked, nor had she ever considered being spanked, but the hand of Mr Walker kept rising and falling and making her bottom so painfully hot she was very grateful when this unjust punishment finally ceased. But then she nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his gristly body pressing up against hers. It was obvious his pyjama trousers were undone, gaping open to expose his crotch, and she tried to look back over her shoulder to see what he was up to, but Marie would not let her.
‘Keep still, my darling,’ she murmured into Sue’s ear, and pressed her friend’s flushed face between her cushiony breasts.
Sue gasped against the warm, enveloping flesh as she felt Mr Walker’s erect penis probing between her thighs, nudging its way closer to her exposed pussy. And then, unbelievably, she felt his rigid old cock slip between the wet lips of her sex, and penetrate her. Soft warm hands cupped and caressed her dazed face as leathery cold hands cupped and squeezed her buttocks. Then Marie’s tongue invaded her mouth again in a passionate kiss and Sue came, impaled on the old man’s gnarled rod, just as his cool and ancient seed erupted deep inside her warm young flesh.
It is a little room, almost nothing more than a cubicle, surprisingly small for a headmaster’s office. It contains the desk behind which he is seated, and a chair for me, with nothing to hide behind. His hair is going stylishly grey at his temples to match his eyes. ‘Sit down,’ he instructs. ‘I’ll just look this over.’ He extracts a file from one of his desk drawers, a creamy manila folder from which the tips of pink slips stick out like mischievous little tongues. He opens the folder as I seat myself, crossing my arms over my chest to hold my raincoat closed. ‘Don’t sit with your raincoat on,’ he says without looking up again.
I promptly get up to take it off.
‘Did I tell you to stand?’ he asks softly, still studying the pink slips by the light of a small desk lamp with a flexible steel neck. It is the only light in the room; there are no windows.
‘I thought...’
‘You don’t know how to think,’ he points out firmly, ‘that’s why you’re here. Sit down. If you knew how to think, or even just how to add up a simple column of figures, you wouldn’t be here.’
Still wearing my raincoat, I resume my seat feeling foolish and confused. My stomach churns as I smooth down my cotton skirt. Normally I don’t wear skirts, but in small print on the back of the summons was written wear a skirt to the punishment.
‘You have your voucher?’
I pull it out of my right pocket, a ticket stub like the kind you get at the movies, only it was the guard downstairs at the iron arch who gave me this. I lean forward to hand it to him, but then place it awkwardly on the desk beside the folder when he makes no move to accept it.
‘Your statement.’ It is not a question; it is a command given an impatient edge by what almost sounds like boredom.
I turn in the chair, and pull one of the pocket’s of my raincoat inside-out in my haste to extract a yellow slip of paper. I quickly place it on the desk just inside the circle of light, nervously smoothing its crumpled edges for him.
‘Don’t fuss,’ he snaps.
I snatch my hand back as though scalded by his cold voice.
He leans back in his chair, slips a cigarette out of a pack lying just outside the halo of light, and brings it to life with the hot blue flame of a silver lighter. Smoke streams out from between his lips as he asks, ‘Cigarette?’
I swallow nervously, and shake my head.
‘Oh, go on...’ he urges mildly, ‘go on...’
I smile weakly.
‘You know you want to,’ he adds, staring into my eyes.
I lean forward, and reach tentatively for the pack.
He slaps my hand back. ‘Bad girl. Two more demerits.’ He picks up a pen with his free hand and makes a note in my file.
I gasp, ‘But you...’
‘“Lead us not into temptation”,’ he quotes without looking up. ‘It’s your job to make sure you don’t get led astray. I can’t always be there looking out for you.’
I glance around the room. I don’t see any paddles, or any other instruments of correction, and I wonder what he is going to punish me with.
Dropping the pen, he deliberately knocks some ash onto the floor. ‘Pick that up for me,’ he says.
My eyebrows arch questioningly.
‘Pick that up for me,’ he repeats. ‘Are you deaf?’
I get up, walk around the desk, and then sink down onto my hands and knees to scoop some of the ashes up onto my fingertips.
‘Use this.’ He hands me the statement of my demerits.
I run the edge of the paper beneath the ashes, and flick them into the wastebasket beside the desk.
‘Good,’ he says, ‘very good. Now take off your coat.’
My knees feel weak as I stand up and the blood rushes to my head. He is so close, only a hand’s length away. I start unbuttoning my raincoat.
He follows my fingers with his eyes, moving down from one button to another as he raises the cigarette to his lips, and lowers it again, blowing the smoke away from me so as not to obscure his view. He is staring at my breasts, which are visible now between the flaps of my coat, and I feel myself blushing. I am standing before him in a short skirt, flat shoes, gym socks and nothing else, all according to the warrant, which clearly states, no shirt and no panties, nothing between skin and the outer shell at punishment.
‘Go on,’ he says patiently.
I turn around slowly, feeling his eyes on my bare skin as I shrug the stiff material off my shoulders. The cool air caresses my back where I’ve been perspiring between my shoulder blades against the silk lining. My skirt rides up slightly beneath a gentle electric current of static-cling as I slip the coat off completely, and take a few steps away from the desk to hang it on a hook behind the door.
‘Now turn around.’
I fight the urge to cross my arms over my naked breasts as I turn to face him again.
‘Put your hands behind your back.’
Standing perfectly still, I obey him, staring at his face while he studies my breasts.
‘Eyes straight ahead,’ he commands.
I reluctantly look away from his intent expression.
‘Shoulders square and legs at ease,’ he elaborates tersely.
I pull my shoulders back, and feel my soft mounds thrust up and out as I do so. My nipples are already hard from the prolonged weight of his eyes.
‘Good,’ he says approvingly. ‘Now, come here.’
I focus on him again as he puts his cigarette out in a glass ashtray, casually crushing the butt beneath his thumb.
‘Come sit right here where I can look at you.’ He pushes his chair back.
There is no mistaking where he means, and I am surprised by my own lack of hesitation as I go and perch on the edge of the desk in front of him.
‘Sit on it.’
I lift my bum carefully up onto the hard surface, but I cannot keep from rustling some papers in the process, and then shyly cross my arms over my bare breasts again.
‘Hands on your head,’ he says sternly, ‘and don’t crease the statements you’re sitting on or that’ll be more demerits added to your tab.’
I raise my arms and plant my hands on my head. I am squeezed between him and the edge of the desk, my skirt almost brushing his black trousers.
He looks up at my face and then down at my lap, and I spread my thighs apart so his legs can come forward under the desk and close the gap between us without touching. I am sitting on a man’s desk in a very small room, naked except for a skirt that ends just above my knees, with my legs spread wide.
‘Let me just make sure you understand.’ He leans forward so I feel his breath on my skin as he speaks. ‘The system mandates that charges incurred and not met require that each separate erogenous zone be punished in increasingly intimate steps according to the scale of the debt. Because you have acquired so many debits,’ he glances briefly down at the pink statements lying between my thighs, ‘you are obliged to come bare-breasted and wearing nothing beneath your skirt. Am I right?’
I nod, feeling light-headed.
‘So, with this many demerits outstanding, I get to do this...’ He reaches up and grabs my left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. ‘I get to massage it, and press it...’
I gasp as he pinches my nipple.
‘I get to pull it...’ He tugs on it gently, and I find myself bending forward towards his mouth as his other hand comes up to touch my right breast. I recoil, because for some reason I am not ready for this yet, but he grasps my whole breast firmly, holding my body in place as his mouth reaches my left nipple. Still gripping it between his fingers, he tongues the very tip of it.
‘Oh!’ I cry softly.
He takes his hand off my right breast as my body leans willingly into his mouth, and his tongue orbits my tense nipple for a few more seconds before he suddenly sits back. ‘I can also explore your oral reflexes.’ His right hand caresses the side of my neck on its way up, and his fingers lightly stroke my cheek before he presses his thumb against my mouth.
Moaning stubbornly, I keep my lips sealed.
Very gently, he bites my nipple.
‘Oh!’ I exclaim again, and his thumb slips into my mouth. I close my eyes and suck on it blindly, not understanding my reaction but not really questioning it either.
‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, and we sit there with his mouth working on my firm nipple and my tongue working on his hard thumb until he suddenly pulls it out and pushes his chair back. My nipple immediately feels cold without his warm lips around it, bereft, and I shiver to feel the room’s chilly air on my chest again.
‘I think you’re ready now,’ he says. ‘How many demerits was it?’
I lift my thigh slightly so he can pull the statement out from beneath it.
‘Ah, this many. Would you prefer having your skirt on, or off?’
‘Do I...?’
‘Do you have a choice? No, of course not. I am only offering you a courtesy, as a gentleman. Would you like to have a cigarette and think about it?’
I look at him anxiously.
‘You’ve already got two demerits for it, you can’t get more, so why not enjoy the smoke? Go on,’ he holds the pack up for me, ‘you know you want to.’
I take the cigarette from the packet, and he lights it for me. His silver lighter flashes in the lamplight as he snaps it closed, and I take my first puff. The room feels funny as the smoke fills my lungs.
‘Very good.’ He smiles as I exhale. ‘You understand your debts were sufficient to necessitate the punishment of both your mouth and your breasts, but now, of course...’ He leans back in his chair. ‘Another four on the bill, plus expenses. I don’t smoke. You’ll have to cover the cost of the cigarettes, I’m afraid; they’re your little weakness. That gives me your bottom for punishment, and... oh, I suppose that gives me everything. Lift your skirt. Don’t make me wait.’
‘But I didn’t want the cigarette,’ I protest breathlessly.
‘I only bought the pack because I knew you’d want one,’ he corrects me, and puts one of his hands on my thigh beneath the skirt. ‘Never mind, just take your time. Finish the cigarette.’ Slowly, he slides his hand up to my bottom, and then lifting it slightly brings it back down again hard.
‘Oh!’ I exclaim.
‘Get up and bend over the desk,’ he orders in a thick voice.
I glance down at the hard-on straining against his slacks as my feet touch the floor and I turn around obediently. I feel his eyes on my bottom, and then his hands as he parts my warm cheeks.
‘This won’t take long,’ he whispers in my ear before he spanks me again.
His skin stings mine as it strikes and how hard his palm is comes as a shock that spreads a strangely delicious heat through my body. He spanks me again, and then again, and I feel my face getting as red as my bum from the shame of realising I am enjoying this.
‘It won’t take long at all,’ he assures me softly, ‘but first, a little something just for you, so you won’t think I’m here only for my own pleasure.’
I glance over my shoulder at him when I hear the sound of his zipper coming down, but then quickly look away again as his cock springs free and I feel him spread my cheeks open.
‘Good thing you girls don’t smoke cigars,’ he remarks as he pushes his rigid penis into my tight bottom. I arch my back, helping his painfully rampant erection sink deep into my clinging, perversely welcoming, flesh. ‘With the cost of tobacco these days...’ he groans as he thrusts hard into my body’s most private and sensitive parts, ‘you’d be tied up in here all day!’
I reach down to caress my button, and as he pumps his hot come into my burning sphincter I climax with him, biting my lip not to scream from the terrible pleasure.
And then he makes me lick his cock clean before he lights another cigarette.
My husband often makes me take down my panties in public. The first time it happened was at the supermarket. I have a D-cup figure with shapely hips, and I never have problems getting men to look at me, but what happened this time was different.
I had left George waiting in the car and gone back to the counter to buy a pack of gum after we finished our weekly shopping. As was my habit in the past, I got lost reading a magazine by the checkout and didn’t notice the time flying by. When I eventually bought my gum and got back to the car, George was redder than a bull’s eye and twice as hot under the collar.
‘You’ve done this too many times, Darlene,’ he said as I slipped into the passenger’s seat.
‘What are you talking about?’ I asked innocently.
‘You know what I’m talking about, Darlene.’
He was real mad this time, I could tell; there was a little white vein over his right eye that was twitching. It was boiling hot in the parking lot in the noonday sun, and people were walking by. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, George.’ I continued my innocent act. ‘Start the car and turn on the air-conditioner, please,’ I added casually, hoping he would let me get away with it.
He did not. George is a big man with sandy hair thinning on top. He has freckles on his arms, big red freckles on big strong arms. I like him to love me hard, usually he’s too gentle, but this time he really lost his temper. Without another word, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me across the seat toward him. Then he opened his door, got out the car, and pulled me with him.
I was suddenly very scared of this man I thought I knew as I stood in the hot parking lot, my short skirt wafting against the backs of my thighs in the breeze, trying to think of what I could say to calm him down. ‘George, honey...’
‘Don’t say a word Darlene, just walk around to the back of the car.’
‘George...’
‘Darlene, if you say another word, I’m going to drive off and you can walk home.’
He meant it. I could see it in the set of his mouth and in the slight sheen of perspiration on his upper lip. ‘All right,’ I said as quietly as possible, and walked around to the back of the car. We own an old, four-door Ford with a big boot. I stood next to it, and the hot bumper made me jump slightly when it touched my naked legs beneath my skirt.
‘Darlene,’ George came and stood right in front of me, so his face was looming over mine, ‘you’ve been a naughty, naughty girl. Wouldn’t you say?’
‘I would, George,’ I admitted quietly.
‘Then you ought to be punished, right?’
‘Um...’ I wasn’t quite sure what was happening.
‘Push your panties down and lean over the back of the car, Darlene.’
I couldn’t believe it. My ears rang with his shocking command as I blushed just thinking about it. And yet, at the same time, the idea made my pussy feel strangely warm. ‘George, come on now, honey...’
‘Darlene...’
‘I’m not going to take my panties down like some kind of tramp and bend over the car,’ I protested.
‘Darlene, you want to stay here? Fine, I’m done with you.’ He started walking back down the driver’s side.
‘George?!’
He turned back towards me. ‘Get your face on that boot, Darlene.’
‘But it’s shameful... I mean, out here in public...’
‘You should have thought about what it would feel like to take your panties down in the parking lot before you kept me waiting.’
‘I didn’t know...’
‘You will now.’
Which is how I found myself bending over that boot in broad daylight in the parking lot of the busiest supermarket in town. Luckily, we had parked near a corner where the traffic wasn’t too heavy. But I could still hear people walking by even though I couldn’t see them, and didn’t want to see them.
‘That’s a good girl, Darlene.’ I heard George come and stand behind me. ‘Very good.’
I felt his hands reach up under my skirt and stroke my thighs from behind. I felt the air on my skin as my skirt was lifted, exposing my little white cotton panties, and I suddenly felt faint knowing my bottom was now exposed to the eyes of any man or woman who happened to pass by. I closed my own eyes. ‘George...’ I whispered.
‘Be a very good girl, Darlene.’ He peeled the soft cotton off my buttocks and slowly pulled my panties down. His strong hands caressed me on the way down, and the breeze kissing my pussy made me realise I was wet; I was horribly embarrassed and yet excited at the same time. He took his time sliding my panties down my thighs, so I had plenty of time to think about what I was letting him do in the middle of a crowded parking lot, and then he left them hanging around my knees.
‘George?’ I sounded like a frightened little girl now, yet the hot feeling between my legs was not at all innocent.
‘Hold still, honey,’ he said, and right then and there he started spanking me. The impact of his open palm stung like the slap of water when you dive flat into a pool, and sent ripples of pleasure through my soaking pussy. Suddenly I wanted him badly. He slapped my left cheek first, and then my right cheek, and I gasped in mingled pain and desire. He brought his hand down hard on my exposed flesh six times before he patted my flaming bottom, and told me to scoot back into the car.
He drove us home like a criminal running from the cops, and shoved me into the bedroom the minute we walked into the house. ‘You know what to do,’ he said in a low voice, the same one he had used in the parking lot.
‘You want me to take everything off?’ I teased.
‘If you want, we can go back to the parking lot,’ he said roughly, ‘and this time we can park right outside the checkout aisles.’
I took my panties off but left my skirt on, and then pulled off my T-shirt. I wasn’t wearing a bra.
He grabbed both my breasts and squeezed them roughly, as hungrily as if I was a girl he had never had before and he had finally got me in the backseat of a car.
I sighed, ‘George, honey, love me like your own little bad girl!’
He pulled my skirt up and made me kneel on the edge of the bed with my bum up in the air. I didn’t know what he was doing, but then I heard a strange hissing sound and looked around. He was pulling his belt off one loop at a time, letting it hang down his leg as he held it up by the buckle. He patted my bottom just beneath my cheeks, making my pussy tremble, and then stepped back.
The first lash of the belt was the worst; it was such a shock to my system. The belt flicked around and stung both my cheeks, but not at the same time, so it almost felt like two blows right after the other. I started crying after his third hard lash, but I knew better than to complain.
He kept on touching my cheeks in between whipping them, making me so wet that I finally collapsed across the bed and buried my face in a pillow I wanted him so badly.
He was kissing me now, and the feel of his hand between my thighs made me moan with longing. Then I finally sensed him pulling his cock out of his pants. He rolled me over onto my back, and made me lift my legs up into the air and hold them wide open for him. I felt totally exposed as he slowly fed my hungry pussy his huge red cock. I had never seen it get so big before, and I cried out as he drove it into me.
‘Are you a bad girl?’ he asked harshly, fucking me hard and fast.
‘I want to be good!’ I gasped. He was filling me up, violently stuffing me with his erection like he never had before, and I wanted to die it felt so good.
‘Will you take your punishment like a good girl?’ he demanded, making my breasts bob wildly up and down as he rammed his hard-on as deep into my body as he could.
‘I will honey, I will! I’ll be just as bad as you want me to be! I’ll be your good... oh, I’ll be your punishment whore!’ I screamed.
He leaned over and bit my neck as I came and came and came. Sometimes being bad is the best thing that can happen to a girl.
Not much was happening on the home front for a while until I came home one night last year, and found a note from Mark on the kitchen table. Mark is a movie buff. When we first met we went out to the movies constantly, especially to sexy Italian flicks from the sixties. But lately, what with one thing or another - you know how it is once you start living together - even racy European movies had stopped getting us excited. Then one night I came home and found a note on the kitchen table in Mark’s handwriting: We’re going to the movies. Go to the bedroom.
Intrigued, I took off my coat. Beneath it I was wearing a cotton blouse and a wool skirt. I went into the bedroom hoping to find him. Instead, on the closet door near the bed, was another note: Take out your raincoat.
I took my raincoat out of the closet. It was tan vinyl with a red lining and I’d had it for years. Pinned to the neck of the coat was another note: Put it on, with nothing between you and the buttons.
My pussy started getting wet right then and there; it had been tingling since I walked through the bedroom door. Mystery games had thrilled me since I was a kid, and Mark knew it. I stripped off my blouse, and got butterflies in my stomach looking around our little apartment wondering if Mark was hiding somewhere, watching me. We had been living together for six months, yet I suddenly felt shy. I let my skirt drop to the floor, undid the clasp on my bra, slipped it off, and folded it neatly on a pillow. Then I slid my panties down to my ankles, stepped out of them and picked up the raincoat. The red lining skidded against my already tight and excited nipples as I slipped it on, and the plastic chafed my bare thighs. The vinyl was cold and felt very strange against my naked breasts and buttocks.
Inside the left hip pocket, I found another note: Go to the multi-screen theatre. Don’t drive.
Not far from our apartment there is a precinct with a big movie house in it, the kind with five screens and wide, comfortable seats. The thought of walking through the streets with no clothes on beneath the raincoat made my pussy tingle, but my belly felt tight with fear. Thinking fast, I decided that if Mark took the trouble to liven things up around here, the least I could do was swallow my inhibitions and play along.
I walked out into the hallway of our apartment building, and immediately felt a draft slip up into the coat and caress my thighs. I looked both ways to make sure no one was around, but it wasn’t until I was out on the street that I really began feeling self-conscious. Every one I passed seemed to be looking at me in my raincoat and high-heels. My legs felt strangely weak, and I was increasingly worried about tripping and wantonly exposing my bare cheeks to the world as I fell. I kept my eyes lowered and stepped demurely away from all the men I passed. The two blocks between our apartment and the theatre had never seemed longer.
Inside the theatre I held the collar of the raincoat tightly closed, but at the ticket desk I suffered my next thrill of embarrassment. A young man handed me a stub through the window before I even opened my mouth, and when I looked at him in surprise, he said, ‘You were expected,’ and smiled at me in a way that made me feel he could see right through my coat. I blushed to realise that in my excitement I had forgotten to bring any money, and that until that moment I had not even thought about the actual movie.
I hurried down the appropriate corridor; I did not know if the film had started yet. I was glad to see the lobby was empty, but also a little disappointed; subconsciously, I had been looking forward to walking through a crowd of people completely naked beneath my coat.
I opened the door to the auditorium, stepped inside, and paused to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. Already I could tell the theatre was full, and gradually, with a sinking feeling in my belly, I realised the audience consisted mainly of men. All I remember about the movie when I came in is a woman’s legs filling the screen and that it had been shot somewhere very bright. Then I noticed a section of five empty seats about halfway down the aisle, and somehow I knew Mark had managed to reserve them. But I would have to make my way over the legs of approximately ten seated men to get to them, and their knees pulling on my coat would threaten to expose me every step of the way.
I took a deep breath, and almost turned to walk out. Then a head looked back at me from directly behind the row of empty seats, and my heart leapt. It had to be Mark.
I made my way towards him while very firmly telling myself no one could possibly know I was naked beneath my coat. And yet... I swear one man touched my bottom through my coat when I said ‘Excuse me’ as I squeezed past him on my way to the empty seats, and once my coat parted so the light from the screen fell right on my bare pussy, but I’m pretty sure no one saw that.
I reached the empty seats, but I couldn’t see Mark anywhere. Some guy told me to hurry up and sit down and I promptly obeyed, perspiring slightly with anxiety. I could not believe I was sitting nearly naked in a movie theatre full of men who were all probably sexually aroused by the action on the screen.
‘Don’t turn around,’ a voice said softly from just behind me.
‘Mark?’ I whispered uncertainly, because I couldn’t really be sure it was him.
‘Shut it!’ the voice hissed, ‘or I’ll tell everybody what a slut you are.’
A submissive thrill stabbed me straight between the legs. I could not be sure this man was Mark, and having a faceless voice talking to me like this as I sat naked beneath my thin coat in a dark room full of men was making my pussy melt.
‘Spread your legs,’ he commanded.
I took a deep breath, and parted my thighs.
‘Now touch yourself.’
‘What?’ I whispered.
‘You heard me.’
I had always felt awkward talking about masturbation with a man, not to mention doing it in front of him, let alone in front of several dozen men in a public place. I hesitated.
‘Do it,’ the voice insisted. ‘Stick your finger in your pussy.’
I didn’t turn around because I didn’t want to; these firm commands from an anonymous source were seriously arousing me. With my trembling left hand I slowly lifted the left side of my coat off my thigh. Then, with my equally unsteady right hand, I parted the other side of my coat. Air wafted across my bare legs and felt wonderfully cool against my warm skin, but it felt especially good against my pussy, which was already so wet its juices were dampening the coat’s red lining. I reached down and slipped a finger past the puffy lips of my labia. My clit was standing almost painfully at attention, all I had to do was circle it with my long fingernail to experience a stab of pleasure that made me suck my breath in.
‘Get hot, baby.’
No one else seemed to hear the quietly demanding voice, and none of the men sitting in the row on either side of me seemed to notice me. Feeling a little bolder, I flicked my clit with my nail, and gasped.
‘Hotter!’ the voice said impatiently.
I played my index finger over my knob, pressing down on it firmly, and then ran it between the hot, swollen lips of my pussy. My breathing became fast and shallow, and yet still the voice said, ‘More’ and then ‘More’ again, until I was almost coming. I was nearly over the edge when a hand squeezed my shoulder. ‘Now stop.’
‘Mark?’ I asked weakly.
‘Close your eyes.’
I obeyed. I still had not turned around to see who the voice belonged to I was so into this little game of domination and submission. I sat tense with anticipation as I felt him climbing over the chair next to mine, and settling himself into it.
‘Hold still,’ he said.
I was so hot waiting for him to dictate the next step in our game that the soft sound of his slacks brushing the seat as he shifted his position seemed louder than the movie to me.
‘Allow me.’ He slipped three fingers up inside me so swiftly that I nearly cried out it felt so good. I sat up straight and grasped the armrests to brace myself. ‘You like that, baby?’
I nodded, unable to speak as he began massaging my clitoris with the base of his palm, going around and around it while his other hand reached up to touch my neck and caress my face. His fingers moving steadily in and out of me made me buck in my seat as I rode the beginnings of what promised to be an intense orgasm. All I had to do to sharpen the edge of my pleasure was think about the fact that I was surrounded by men and completely naked beneath my coat while a man whose face I couldn’t see put his hand up my throbbing pussy.
When he suddenly pressed his thumb against my lips and slipped it between them, I started coming in earnest. I took his thumb deep into my mouth, letting him dominate my throat, and climaxed like I never had before in my life. His hand gagging me stopped me from crying out, but I rocked back and slid forward in the seat and thrust my hips up around his fingers, grinding my clit against his hard palm.
After my orgasm finally stopped, he emptied my mouth, pulled on the belt around my waist so my coat fell open all the way, and yanked it off my shoulders. Cool air flowed over my perspiring skin while I kept my eyes closed, a wanton smile spreading across my face.
Still filling my pussy with one hand, he placed the other one on the back of my neck and began pushing me down. The coat stayed behind in the chair as my arms slipped out of it, and I felt his hand travel down my slick back as I crouched on my knees in a crowded hall and took the biggest cock I can ever remember so deep into my mouth that its head nudged the back of my throat.
I swallowed him whole, and then pulled back and sucked on his head for a moment before pushing my face down over him again. I felt him leaning forward, but I could not believe it when his hand smacked my bottom.
I froze.
Surely everyone had heard that! He spanked me again, and the low, flat sound was muffled by the soundtrack, but the sensation was not; it stung like buggery! I was getting spanked, naked, in front of countless unknown men! He kept punishing me slowly, one cheek at a time as I sucked hungrily on his dick.
Finally he stopped to grip my hot bottom, and I felt as though he was branding the marks of his fingers into my cheeks he squeezed them so viciously. I felt more than naked; I felt profoundly exposed in a way I never would have dreamed of letting myself be. Mark had never even mentioned spanking to me, and the hard, methodical blows made the aching need in my pussy deeper still.
Then I felt his erection jump and tighten in my mouth, and his cum started flooding down my throat. I swallowed mouthful after mouthful of his bittersweet milk, and yet there was so much of it that some seeped out from between my stretched lips to wet my cheeks and chin and throat. I felt deliciously drenched in his spunk by the time his cock slipped out of my mouth.
‘You’re such a quiet date to take to the late show,’ he whispered.
I reached blindly for his hand, and kissed it.
We still go to the movies together, but now I wear a brand new leather coat he bought me as a wedding present.
Amanda Vanforth rose out of her jasmine scented bathwater, trailing suds in her bare feet on the plush rug, and gazed at herself in the mirror. She was amply graced with firm, thirty-eight-D breasts whose nipples stiffened at the slightest naughty thought, a tight but still generous bottom, and a glorious fiery spray of red pubic hair to match the wet curls flowing down her back. Smiling, she dried herself off, sprayed perfume on her throat and breasts, and then chose a small, revealing striped top along with a pair of slacks that showed off her voluptuous hips. She was going to see Albert, her husband’s brother, and Albert liked to admire her shapely buttocks.
She had always been able to manipulate Albert’s interest in her to her own ends. This week, with Sidney out of town on business, she planned on coaxing Albert into buying more stock for her private portfolio with the company money, and the fact that he had asked to see her in his office gave her the perfect opportunity to do so. She did not plan on being married to Sidney forever, and when the time came, she intended to bail on him with a nice golden parachute.
Amanda walked into the last suite on the top floor and sauntered past the secretaries straight into Albert’s office. The grey-headed old harpy who sat by his door rose when she appeared, but then sat down again as Amanda ignored her and pushed open the mahogany door leading into the light-filled space of her brother-in-law’s office.
Only then did she stop short, because he was not sitting at his desk as he normally was, or even standing by one of the many windows.
‘Albert?’ she called. No one answered, but she felt the door close silently behind her, and turned quickly on her heels.
Albert was standing in the corner smoking a cigarette and watching her. This was not like him; he was usually hard at work behind his desk, and would spring up like a puppy to greet her when she entered. ‘Hello Amanda,’ he said, ‘I’ve been expecting you.’
‘Really? You’ve a funny way of showing it.’
He smiled. ‘I have some things to show you.’
‘Really?’ she repeated, making an effort to sound interested. He often tried to impress her with his projects, which bored her to distraction.
He took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled as he asked, ‘Do you have something to show me?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she replied, turning away. She was quite put off by his obvious leer since he was usually so submissive with her. Then she froze when she thought she felt his hand caress the cheeks of her bottom in her smooth cotton slacks.
‘Don’t you have this to show me?’ he whispered in her ear.
She spun around to face him again. ‘How dare you? I have never...! If I say one word of this to...’
‘Sidney?’ Albert kept his hand resting almost possessively on her bottom.
She slapped it away.
‘I can also talk to Sidney, Mandy, my darling,’ he threatened quietly, and now his hand rose to her lightly powdered cheek.
She wanted to bite him as his hand dropped to her neck, and kept moving slowly downwards. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Albert,’ she said innocently, ‘and I don’t understand what’s gotten into you.’ She moved hastily away from him towards the desk.
‘I’ll be happy to show you.’ He strolled lazily after her.
Amanda desperately scanned the surface of the desk for something to restore order, such as a photograph of her and Sidney together. What she found instead was a scattering of colourful and extremely graphic eight-by-tens. The photographs had captured particularly hot moments in an encounter between a high-school friend of hers, and a woman clearly identifiable as Amanda Vanforth, in all her naked glory. Her pale cheeks turned crimson as she saw several close-ups of her face, and her expression in the pictures made it clear she was in the throes of an orgasm. The man responsible for her pleasure was clearly not her husband. The man in the obscene images with her was Paul, and his hands were just where Albert’s hand was now. Her brother-in-law was touching her bottom again, this time patting it in a gentle imitation of what Paul had been doing to her. The photographs showed her high school friend spanking her. She suffered a flush of feeling remembering the hard and passionate way Paul had fucked her that night, but then her mind returned to the present as Albert patted her right cheek, and then her left cheek, slowly, with no sense of urgency.
‘Do you still want to talk to Sidney, Mandy?’ he asked quietly.
‘Don’t call me that,’ she snapped, but she didn’t move away from his hand. ‘How did you...?’
‘Your friend is quite a professional,’ he remarked, and pressed his hand against the cloth between her cheeks. She gasped as he fingered the deep valley dividing her buttocks through the tightly stretched cotton, feeling for her anus. She shifted her weight, trying to escape his intrusive caress, yet she didn’t actually move away from him. She was too scared. ‘He... did this?’
‘Did this? Mandy, I tracked him down for this. Of all the guys in your high school yearbook, he was the only one who had a heart drawn around his face.’
‘You stole my yearbook?’ she exclaimed, turning to face him again. It surprised her how close he was, so close she could feel his heat. He was wearing a white shirt and tie, and the growing bulge in his black trousers gave her the panicky feeling that he wasn’t wearing any underwear.
‘I had to get a hold of this, Mandy.’ He smiled again, and slid his hand up from her bottom to cup her left breast. She didn’t move as he fondled her bosom, but she shuddered inside. In all the years she had known him, he had never before smiled at her like that. It was an ugly smile, the smile of a man who believes he owns something, and who is not necessarily gentle with his possessions.
‘What do you want?’ she asked, even though she knew.
‘Well, Mandy,’ he took a final drag from his cigarette, and put it out in the glass ashtray on his desk, ‘we can start with you slipping your slacks down.’
Mandy stood with her hands clutching her ankles, trying to keep her balance while Albert’s hands wandered up from her bare calves to her trim thighs and from there up to her bottom, where one of them stroked gently between her cheeks. Then he reached down around her and cupped both her naked breasts. ‘Mandy?’
‘Mm?’ By now she knew that if she did not reply when he called her this, he would slap her bottom.
‘Would you like to see Paul again?’ he asked softly. His hands returned to her hips, and moved down to her silky thighs.
‘Would I!’ She wanted to kill the bastard.
‘Good,’ Albert said. ‘Come in, Paul.’
She immediately straightened up out of her humiliating position, just in time to see Paul, her long-lost crush, enter Albert’s office. It seemed to her that he was wearing the same suit she had last seen him in. He had put it on after fucking her, for well over an hour, in a motel room, apparently with a camera hidden in the closet. It was humiliating in the extreme to have him see her like this now, as shamelessly naked as she was when he left her, years ago. She had loved Paul. She had worshipped Paul. She had drawn hearts around his name in her yearbook as she imagined being married to him and taking his cock anywhere he wanted to put it.
That was before she became more realistic and married for money. Now she covered her mound with one hand and tried to hide her breasts with the other, but they were much too big.
‘Don’t bother.’ Albert slapped her bottom.
Paul looked amused.
She blushed even more deeply.
‘Paul,’ her husband’s brother said, ‘take off your trousers.’
‘Paul, how could you?!’ she cried, and then looked at her brother-in-law, realising what he’d just said. ‘Take off his trousers?’ She didn’t understand; she could not let herself understand.
‘I needed the money,’ Paul replied, and began slipping off his suit. ‘I’m sure you’d sell anyone you knew if you had to,’ he added cynically, sliding his black trousers down and exposing strong, tanned legs that still made her go weak in the belly. She had spent hours watching those legs running across the football field in shorts, and in track-suit bottoms. She had fallen in love with those legs from afar.
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, still trying desperately not to. She had believed she could love Paul. When he had fucked her, it felt like heaven.
‘What’s not to understand, my dear?’ Albert said as Paul’s beautiful cock sprang free of his shorts. ‘Get on the floor and suck him.’
‘No!’ Amanda Vanforth refused vehemently. ‘Absolutely not!’
‘Do you want to go back to living like you did before you married Sidney?’ Albert whispered in her ear. His hand was burrowing deep between her buttocks, and she could feel one of his fingers threatening to probe inside her little rear hole.
‘No,’ she moaned. She couldn’t possibly go back. She couldn’t. She stared at Paul’s cock... he had finally called her the last week of school, and less than two hours after they met for lunch she was on her back and panting from the pleasure of feeling his hard-on inside her.
‘Kiss it,’ Albert demanded.
She saw Paul’s erect dick, so long and so thick, and bent towards it; she couldn’t help herself. She took it into her mouth with a choked cry as Albert spanked her, and then suddenly he was pulling open the cheeks of her bottom, and his cock, which she had never felt or tasted before, was pushing its way into her rectum. She groaned. She had not taken even Paul’s cock this way, and she tried to look up into his eyes as Albert penetrated her, but his eyes were closed as he bucked back and forth in and out of her mouth. It wasn’t long before his handsome features twisted in a frown, and she nearly gagged as a torrent of hot spunk flooded her mouth and poured down her throat, just as Albert yanked her hips back, pressing her buttocks tightly against his humid groin, and came deep in her bottom.
After the two men had come, Amanda was forced to kneel on all fours while Albert spanked her. He said he wanted to be just like Paul, who stood by watching as her brother-in-law methodically smacked one of her cheeks, and then the other. He spanked her slowly and rhythmically, and when her buttocks were hot as an oven, they both took her again just like before, only this time she sucked Albert’s cock while Paul slid his huge dick between her flaming cheeks and fucked her bottom.
He leaned over her to massage her breasts and finger her clitoris, and she was horrified when she started coming even though he was pulling all the way out of her burning hole to ram himself cruelly through her ring every time. She moaned in the throes of an utterly humiliating orgasm as Albert, smiling triumphantly, shot almost contemptuous trickles of sperm into her gasping mouth.
Later that night Amanda was sitting in her bath again, this time soaking her aching bottom and thinking that at least she might be able to start seeing Paul again now. She caressed her vulva with a bar of soap trying to wash away the memory of Albert, but she kept seeing his smile as he came in her mouth, and despite the steaming hot bathwater, she shivered.
At Amanda’s high school reunion later that year - which Albert insisted she attend even though Sidney, thank goodness, was not going - Amanda sat between Paul and her brother-in-law. Albert had not graduated the same year they had, yet he had insisted on coming and seemed delighted to be there.
He wore a sleek tuxedo, and Paul wore that same suit of his. She was dressed - again at Albert’s insistence - entirely in white. Her breasts swelled half out of a white sweater’s extremely low neckline, her white skirt reached only halfway down her slim thighs, and her beret was also as white as snow. They were attracting all sorts of stares where they sat together, mostly from men since, for some reason, very few women had shown up for the reunion.
Finally the lights went out and the slideshow began, the Where are they now? part of the evening.
Mandy’s nerves started tingling when she heard the announcer’s voice booming loudly through the microphone, ‘Tonight, as a special treat for all of you invited to this special preview of the actual reunion taking place tomorrow, we have a video presentation of the life-and-times of our very own Prom Queen, the girl voted most likely to succeed. Yes, we have special footage of the girl who made it all the way to the top, our very own Mandy Van, now New York’s infamous Amanda Vanforth!’
She felt her body go cold with shock as on the big screen she suddenly saw a huge, naked version of herself being happily fucked in the ass by Albert while she happily sucked Paul’s huge cock. The camera had been focused on her face; there was no doubt about the fact that the girl in the picture was her.
The slides clicked on remorselessly, one after another, and each one was worse than the last. Especially humiliating was a close-up of Paul spurting cum over her closed eyes, immediately followed by one of Albert pressing her face against the floor and making her lick it clean of sperm.
The terrible distorted voice through the microphone spoke again, and suddenly she realised it was her husband, Sidney, who was addressing the mostly male gathering. ‘Yes, friends, your dear Mandy has been committing adultery. I’m sure that won’t stand her in good stead through her divorce proceedings. And then, of course, there’s the little matter of embezzling company funds for that little stock portfolio of hers she has put away for a rainy day. But let me tell you, folks, her husband knows about Amanda’s little ways. Or should I say, Mandy’s? Her husband has that portfolio well in hand, unlike Mandy. She really shouldn’t have tried to cheat her husband. And that’s why we’re here now, ladies and gentlemen. You all have your lottery tickets? Well then, come on up, because one of you lucky ticket holders, as you all know from your invitations, gets to fuck Mandy Vanforth. One of you gets to fuck her any way you like, and another lucky winner gets to have her suck his cock. Come up, come up, one and all, and bring your tickets! Mandy?’
In a dream, Mandy found herself rising. ‘Yes, Sidney?’ she answered the god-like voice. She could not see beyond the lights of the slide machine that continued to project her giant face, and the circle of her rouged lips as she opened her mouth wide, straining to take Paul’s cock deep inside.
‘Why don’t you show everyone just what they’ve won here today, Mandy? Take off your top.’
Still moving in a dream that was slowly and inevitably becoming the nightmarish realisation that she had lost everything, Mandy began pulling off her tight sweater. It got stuck around her forehead, and suddenly she found herself blind and helpless, her naked breasts exposed as she struggled to get it off over her head. Yet she could still hear that demonic voice through the sweater’s soft folds.
‘Isn’t she lovely, folks? Aren’t you glad you came to this pre-reunion? Hasn’t the prize held its value over the years? Look at those breasts, still so firm. Isn’t her husband a lucky man? Well, he wants to share his luck with all of you tonight.’
A hand grabbed her bottom suddenly, and then another one. She recognised Albert’s pawing and Paul’s more welcome grip, but then a strange hand grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed it. She jumped it was such a shock, but after that she went strangely still. She stopped struggling to get the top over her head as she felt another pair of unknown hands on her hips, and now someone else was lifting her skirt. A rough palm thrust itself between her thighs while gentler fingers pulled her panties down her legs. She just stood there while more and more hands felt her up, until she lost her balance, and then she sank to her knees.
Blindfolded by her top, Mandy got fucked in the ass again, this time with her breasts pressed against the cold floor as hands pulled her head up by the hair so another cock could slip into her mouth. She parted her lips for it, and when she felt sperm pouring down her throat, she swallowed that too. She shuddered as she felt one hard-on slip out of her bottom and another take its place, surging into her sperm-slicked back passage the second it became available. She thrust her buttocks up into the air, making it easy for rampant cocks to find their way between her cheeks and into her hot rectum. She shuddered, feeling yet more sperm spurting into her rear passage, but her cry was cut off as another penis slid into her gaping mouth.
She crouched on all fours and waited for the next erection, and the next, the cold tiles pressing against her breasts as the milk of countless men flooded her anus and her mouth, trickling out between her cheeks and down her chin. She didn’t move, she just took what she had coming to her without trying to get away. She accepted this was how it had to be now as she lifted her hips to meet the new cock that drove into her so hard she felt as though it pierced her heart. She took the cock from behind and she took the cock in her face and nearly choked swallowing more mouthfuls of sperm, and when her mouth was emptied for an instant she cried, ‘Come on, fuck me! I’m a slut! Fuck me!’ She groaned as another pair of rampant dicks filled her up in breathtaking unison, and then she started laughing silently, her shoulders shaking in rhythm with the penises pulsing inside her, because she was Mandy Van again, just plain old Mandy Van getting fucked like a tart with nothing left to lose.
Mr McAllister bought his wife a string of pearls that she could only wear naked. If she wanted to wear them with clothes, or in front of people, there would be consequences. What these consequences would be, he did not say, but the way he smiled when he mentioned them gave Mrs Penny McAllister a tightening sensation in the pit of her stomach.
It all came to a head one Sunday when some friends of Penny came over for a visit. Amanda was there, and so were Caroline and the redheaded Susan. They were all attractive, single women in their thirties except for Penny, who had married a man a good deal older than her. She had met him on a course on computer administration. He had smiled at her, and offered to buy her coffee. She had accepted his invitation, and three months later they were married. That was when he gave her the pearls.
It was a long string of fresh-water pearls, white as shark’s teeth and beautifully luminous. She wore the necklace, and nothing else, for him their first night together. She modelled it for him, slightly embarrassed by the fact that it hung down past her pussy. No matter how she wore the pearls, in one long loop, or wrapped several times around her neck so they fell over her pert and equally creamy breasts, she always felt more naked with them than without them. And at first, when he gave them to her at the restaurant, she had thought he was joking about the consequences of wearing them with clothes.
‘What?’ she had laughed at his warning. ‘Oh, really? What would you do to me if I put them on right here?’
‘There’s only one way to find out, my dear,’ he replied, smiling at her over his wine.
And so she did, she lifted the heavy necklace out of its box, in which it rested in luminous spirals against the crimson velvet lining, and slipped it on over her head. The pearls felt wonderfully cool against the bare skin of her neck and chest, and even then, dressed in an elegant black dress in a crowded restaurant, they made her feel so sensual she may as well have been naked.
Andrew’s stare was penetratingly intense. ‘Tonight, my dear,’ he warned quietly, ‘you’ll find out.’
Meeting his eyes, she felt a tremor of fear in her belly mingled with excitement. Sex with Andrew McAllister had always been functional, competent; he got her off, but there was no... well, there was no danger involved. She never felt like she might lose control of herself when he touched her. But in the restaurant that night, a long string of pearls around her throat and his hand caressing her arm, and then her thigh beneath the table, she suddenly suffered the feeling of being owned, and she liked it.
When they got home later, the second she crossed the threshold of their large, five-bedroom house, she heard his voice just behind her say, ‘Take everything off, my dear.’
She glanced back at him. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Strip.’
The front door was open and a cold breeze was blowing into the house. ‘Let’s get to the bedroom first,’ she said.
‘I said, strip.’
‘But Andrew...’
‘You accepted the terms when you accepted my gift. If you do not wish to honour our agreement, I will be perfectly happy to dissolve our union.’
‘Andrew...’ She told herself he was joking even though part of her knew he wasn’t.
‘Do you keep your word?’ he asked coldly.
‘Andrew, I’m sorry, but...’
‘Are you a woman of your word?’
She felt the beginnings of a sweet submissiveness that made her knees feel strangely weak; she had never experienced anything like this before.
‘Do you want to live in this house, Penelope?’
‘Yes,’ she answered quietly.
‘Then strip right here in the doorway.’
As he stood there in his black coat, hopefully blocking the view for anyone who happened to pass by on the pavement, she pulled her little black dress up over her head.
‘Everything,’ he insisted quietly.
She reached behind her, and unhooked her bra. She hesitated then, but his expression gave her the impetus she needed to slip it off, leaving her only in her pink cotton panties and her black garter belt and stockings.
‘The rest,’ he said relentlessly.
She could sense there was no arguing with him as the pink buds of her nipples stiffened in the cold, and yet she still hesitated.
‘Your arse, Penny.’
She blushed; she hated to hear him use such language. Nevertheless, she pushed her panties down her thighs, and the pearls hung heavily from her neck as she bent over to step out of them. Then she was standing in the doorway wearing just her garter belt and stockings, facing the street where the late evening traffic was only just beginning to die down. Her blonde bush was visible to the world, and her breasts thrust perkily out into the night for all to see. The pearls felt cool against her flesh and teased her clitoris as the heavy strand rose and fell slightly with her quickening breaths. And she realised then that her pussy was getting wet, seriously wet, obeying her new husband like this against her own modest instincts.
‘Now,’ Andrew said, abruptly turning her around so she was facing the inside of the house and her naked bottom was exposed to the street, ‘exercise for me.’
‘Excuse me?’ Penny was sure she must be dreaming, but unfortunately she was not. Burning with shame, she not only had to stand in the open doorway wearing only stockings and pearls, she had to bend over and touch her ankles. She was forced to spread her legs a little to do so, which pushed her naked bottom out towards the night and anyone who happened to be passing by.
She felt the frigid air invade her private parts, and the cold, hard pearls kiss her nipples as she stretched. Then Andrew turned her around so she was facing the street again, and when she bent over again, he thrust his erection inside her and fucked her swiftly and remorselessly from behind.
Yet he pulled out without coming, and she moaned as he replaced his delicious penis with one of his fingers. Her breath caught when she felt him transfer some of her hot juices from her pussy to the little puckered hole leading into her anus, and she closed her eyes in horror when he pulled her cheeks apart. He fucked her bottom with almost brutal energy, shoving his helmet through her ring and filling her with him as her cries of mingled pain and pleasure were drowned out by the sound of traffic rushing by in the street.
When he was finished with her - after he came with a great yell, yanking her buttocks up hard against him to ram his pulsing, spurting cock deep into her - she whimpered as he pulled out slowly. Then he helped her stand up straight, closed the door behind them, and crooked a finger under her chin so she was forced to look up into his eyes.
‘There,’ he said, ‘this good girl deserves her hot bath now. And remember,’ he added as she started eagerly up the stairs of her new home, surreptitiously wiping away her tears, ‘anytime you want to wear those pearls again in front of anyone, you just let me know.’ And he smiled.
That fateful night when her girlfriends came to visit, they were all rather tipsy from indulging in one drink too many. Amanda was getting married, and they were having a final girls’ night out for her. They wound up at Penny’s and Andrew’s place after the club because it was a nice big comfortable house, not a small cramped apartment like the one’s her single friends lived in. At two o’clock in the morning they were still chatting happily in the living room when Andrew came downstairs in one of his elegant robes. ‘What’s all this?’ he asked.
The three friends, in various states of disrepair, were sprawled across the sofa, and in one of the big comfortable armchairs. Penny leapt to her feet the second Andrew entered the room, but her friends didn’t bother to get up.
‘Penny’s been giving me a send-off to wedded bliss,’ Amanda declared in a slurred voice. Being the party girl, she was the most sloshed.
‘Yeah,’ Caroline chimed in, ‘tomorrow she’s swearing to love, honour and obey. Fat chance!’ If she hadn’t laughed after she said that, maybe everything would have turned out differently. But she did laugh, and suddenly Penny knew the night was about to turn sour on her. She was trying to give Caroline a warning look when she heard Andrew’s chillingly reasonable tone.
‘Funny you should say that, Caroline, as Penny took the same oath. Didn’t you, my pet?’
His tone alarmed her as much as it had the night she remembered all too well when he took her in the doorway both ways. ‘Mm,’ she murmured noncommittally, not liking the drift of this at all.
‘Have any of you ever seen a demonstration of what that oath involves?’ Andrew inquired pleasantly.
‘I say, do you have a kinky streak, Pen?’ Amanda giggled. ‘You dirty thing, you!’
‘Amanda, you will find that Penelope is not into anything,’ Andrew said quietly. ‘But she does have her perks, don’t you, my dear? Have you shown them your pearls? Have you shown them the lovely gifts I give you?’
At the mention of the pearls, a crimson flush spread over Penny’s face and her whole body seemed to get hot.
‘Look at her!’ Caroline exclaimed. ‘Oh, this must be dirty!’
‘Not at all,’ Andrew assured her, ‘it is merely a jewel, Penelope’s private jewel. Isn’t that so, my love?’
Penny felt her stomach turning. Since that night in the doorway she had stepped softly around Andrew and kept those pearls hidden safely away in a drawer. She only pulled them out when he asked her to wear them in bed for him. And then he caressed her bottom very gently before fucking her in the pussy as courteously as he usually did. Now, however, she felt her bowels stirring anxiously. ‘It’s a very private jewel,’ she said finally.
‘Why don’t you fetch it, my pet?’ Andrew suggested. ‘Let’s give the girls a full, live demonstration of what it means to love, honour and obey your husband.’
Flushed from head to toe, Penny fled the room, but it was upstairs she ran, to fetch her pearls. She knew she did not have a choice even as she reassured herself that he couldn’t possibly mean to do anything to her in front of her friends. Yet the sound of laughter downstairs told her this was not a dream; this was happening. She lifted out the box she had hidden beneath her undergarments in the bottom drawer of her cabinet. Inside it, lying against the plush red lining, was the cool white string of pearls.
With an anxious tightness in her bottom, she walked slowly as a schoolgirl bound for punishment, back down the carpeted stairs.
Caroline was smoking when she came in and laughing at something Andrew had said. Susan was lying sprawled on her side on the other end of the sofa, asleep. Her husband was sitting between them.
‘Bring it in Penny,’ he said, ‘and stand right here in front of us where we can see you.’
‘Oh,’ Caroline smiled at her, ‘you aren’t half kinky on the sly, are you, Pen? I didn’t know you were like this.’
‘You’ve not seen much of Penny’s dark side, have you?’ He smiled at her.
‘Not for lack of trying,’ Caroline replied, and returned his smile.
‘You don’t surprise me.’ He looked back at his wife, who was standing a little unsteadily before him, holding the box clasped over her chest as if it might keep him and his intentions at bay.
‘Show them what’s in the box, Penelope,’ he instructed firmly.
‘Do I have to?’ she asked, even though she knew what he would say.
‘Do you remember what I offered you the last time we discussed the issue of whether or not you were a woman of your word, Penelope?’
‘But I haven’t worn them,’ she protested.
‘Oh,’ Caroline looked delighted, ‘this is good!’
‘Would you like to see Penny’s best jewel?’ Andrew asked her.
‘Would I!’
‘There you have it, my dear. I think you should show your friends what domesticity means. I think it is your duty, as the only married woman in this room, to show them just what it means to love, honour and obey a man.’
‘But I don’t want to wear the pearls,’ Penny insisted in a whining voice. She could feel matters slipping irrevocably out of her control.
‘Open the box,’ Andrew commanded.
She obeyed him, of course. The white pearls glowed against the deep red velvet, and at sight of them, a hush fell over the room.
‘So?’ Caroline finally asked.
‘You know what to do now, Penelope,’ her husband said.
Penny stood rooted to the spot as she felt all the air being sucked out of her lungs. There was a long pause, during which even Caroline held her tongue, and then with a resigned sigh, Penny felt the last of her resistance drain out of her. She set the box down on the coffee table, and without further ado, pulled her blouse up over her head. She was not wearing a bra, so her breasts sprang free.
Caroline’s eyes latched hungrily onto her friend’s lovely, perky bosom. Fortunately, Susan was half asleep and didn’t see anything.
‘Go on,’ Andrew said softly.
She slowly raised her skirt. Her thighs were veiled in white stockings held up by a matching garter belt.
‘Can I help her?’ Caroline asked abruptly.
Not surprisingly, Andrew responded, ‘I don’t see why not.’
She rose from the couch and sank to her knees in front of Penny, who blushed even more deeply. Caroline’s hands were soft and skilful; they quickly flicked up the clasps on her garter belt and pulled her stockings down with a swift, caressing gesture. ‘And the rest?’ She glanced back at Andrew for permission. It was as though she realised her friend, whom she had lusted after for so long in secret, had no will of her own now and was hers for the asking if she was simply polite to this man.
‘If you like,’ Andrew said magnanimously. ‘It’s called obedience.’
‘Oh, I see that.’ Caroline smiled and turned back to Penny, who could not bring herself to meet her eyes as her friend’s light fingers quickly slipped into the sides of her white panties, and tugged them down to expose her soft blonde bush. At sight of it, Caroline seemed to grow impatient, because Penny nearly lost her balance as she tugged her panties down her legs, forcing her to step out of them quickly to keep her footing. Now she was completely exposed.
‘Very nice,’ Caroline said as she stood up, and apparently accidentally placed a hand on one of her friend’s bare shoulders to steady herself.
Penny shivered as she felt something like an electric current tingle through her naked body at the other woman’s touch.
‘Is there more?’ Caroline asked, gazing at Penny’s down-turned gaze even as she addressed Andrew.
‘Is there more, Penny?’ he asked her in turn. ‘Why don’t you show them what more you do for me?’
‘What would you like?’ his wife asked submissively. She barely recognised her own voice it sounded so faint and dreamy. Part of her felt as if she was watching a snowy evening through a thick-paned window, so that she only saw how mysteriously beautiful it was without feeling the dangerous cold.
‘Come and kneel before me,’ her husband commanded gently.
She looked at him. He couldn’t mean...
‘Kneel right here.’ He pointed at the floor between his knees.
He did mean it.
Caroline was still standing beside her, facing away from Andrew and smiling knowingly at her. It was an evil grin, one she usually showed only when talking about men. ‘You are a good girl, Pen,’ she said softly.
‘I don’t...’ Penny protested weakly.
‘You will kneel,’ her husband said. ‘She’s seen it all before.’
‘Not her, I haven’t,’ Caroline pointed out. ‘She’s my special friend.’
‘I can’t, not in front of...’ Penny felt light-headed. She was still blushing from the memory of Caroline’s hands lingering on her legs, which had made her feel so strange...
‘Would you rather I had you kneel before Caroline? She’s the one you wanted to demonstrate obedience to. Or perhaps we should wake Susan and teach her a lesson.’
‘I’m fine...’ Susan mumbled, without opening her eyes.
Penny walked past the smiling Caroline, and nearly felt her legs give way in front of Andrew; she had to put her hands on his knees to steady herself.
‘You know what to do,’ he said.
She glanced down at the bulge clearly visible beneath his robe that told her his cock was already almost fully erect.
Caroline sat down beside Andrew again and leaned against his shoulder, bringing her face down close to the knot in his belt. ‘Show me what you can do, Penny,’ she said, and leered at her as she licked her lips in anticipation.
Penny swallowed hard thinking of her suitcase upstairs and of her life in this house. Then she slipped her hands into her husband’s dressing gown, found his hard-on, pulled it out gently, and put her lips to it as her friend giggled and reached out to stroke her hair.
Andrew looked on patiently, his hand coming to rest on Caroline’s thigh as he said, ‘Good girl... good girl...’ while Penny worked her mouth up and down on his tool, her head bobbing in his lap. Then she gave a small, choked cry when he suddenly gripped the back of her head with one hand and pushed her face down hard over him as he came, pumping his white-hot cum down her throat and making her swallow every last drop. Finally he let her go, but only to punish her for taking so long to get the pearls.
Bent naked over a chair, Penny bit her lip as Andrew dangled the string of pearls from one hand while gripping the back of her neck with the other to hold her down. Then he brought the rope of pearls up in a slow arc, and each one stung painfully into her buttocks as he lashed her with it. She was stunned to discover how like a whip a string of pearls could feel, how like a long and cruelly knobbed whip raising a string of red welts across her exposed bottom and making her squeal.
‘If you don’t take your strokes like a good girl,’ he warned, ‘we’ll have to start all over again, only this time we’ll do it outside on the pavement. Or you could, of course, leave with Caroline and never return to this house again.’
Penny closed her eyes and stifled a moan as she waited for the rope of pearls to bite her bare cheeks again.
After he had finished punishing her with the pearls, her husband made her crouch down on the floor, the infamous necklace around her neck, her cheek pressed against the carpet and her elbows chaffing against it as her bottom was pummelled, regularly and repeatedly, by a ten-inch dildo wielded with great enthusiasm by her friend, Caroline, who was naked now except for the strap-on she always carried around in her purse, just in case she got lucky. Caroline thought this was a great way to express friendship as well as obedience. Andrew stood by watching, and Susan was no longer asleep.
She was sitting up straight, her dress bunched around her waist while she eagerly stroked her clitoris and slipped two fingers up into her pussy, which was getting unbelievably hot watching her friend being banged from behind by her other friend. She was looking forward to her wedding tomorrow even more now, and the oath she would take to love, honour and obey her husband, no matter what.
Erica Johnson was a large-breasted blonde with a contrastingly thin waste and a mane of long golden curls she tossed to great effect in the presence of men, and since she worked in television, it could be said she was always in the presence of men and performing for them.
At the moment she was fiddling with one of the buttons of her blouse, which showed off the beautiful breasts she seldom imprisoned in a bra. She was riding in the glass elevator all the way to the top of the Television Tower building, and she was nervous because the boss had asked to see her. This was not in itself an unusual occurrence; he had asked to see her before. She had been to see Chairman Mathews dozens of times with at least two buttons undone on her blouse, a ploy that always worked when she had to deal with difficult men. But this time was different.
Erica had a reputation for trouble. When you had breasts the size of hers and a pretty smile and gorgeous hair and you liked to laugh, well, people just looked at you. She had found the perfect job for herself as a sports broadcaster and a sports show hostess. The trouble was that Erica enjoyed being looked at off camera as well. She liked it so much that she often wound up in the newspapers, for one reason or other. And she had the unfortunate habit of getting involved with men who liked to tell afterwards, or who were not very discreet. One of these men had taken her to a topless beach, where a photographer had secretly snapped their picture, and the following morning her naked breasts graced the front page of several tabloids in all their glory. Millions of people had gazed at them over milk and cornflakes and jammy toast. Which was why she was a little nervous this time about going to see Chairman Mathews. She was just a bit concerned that, this time, she had gone too far. Not that it was her fault, she told herself as she flicked open one more button on her white blouse, but people never understood that. Naturally, he could not fire her, but she freed one more button just in case. It was the last button she could undo and still sport a professional aura rather than look like a total slut.
She was very popular, she reminded herself in the mirror just outside the chairman’s door. Men liked her, women envied her, and all that had to be worth something. She wiped a stray blonde curl out of her eye with a manicured finger, and knocked quietly on the double mahogany doors.
There was no answer.
She knocked again, and almost immediately one of the doors swung in on silent hinges. No one seemed to be in the suite, with its stunning view of the city below. No one was at the secretary’s desk just outside the chairman’s office. No one was here at the nerve centre of commercial television where the most important phone, the phone that warned of any technical emergencies or news breaking stories, was hung.
Erica walked up to the desk feeling a little panicked. She had expected to plead for her job, not to be so unimportant as to be stood up.
‘Ah, Erica,’ a voice said from somewhere behind her, and she recognised it as Chairman Mathews’s. Apparently, it had come from a bathroom tucked discretely away between the oak panelling and bookshelves lining the suite’s chestnut walls. As she turned, a section of mock bookcase swung open and revealed her boss with his bald head and his slight paunch contained in a blue shirt that matched his striking eyes. And Erica could not believe her own eyes, because the chairman was on the toilet. But then, as she stared at him in horror, she realised that he was not actually on the toilet, meaning he was not using it for its intended purpose. His shining black trousers were crumpled round his ankles and he was sitting on the lid of the toilet while his secretary, an older woman with her hair gathered up in a bun at the nape of her neck, knelt on the floor before him with his penis buried in her mouth.
The chairman was being sucked off!
‘Won’t be a minute, Erica,’ he said. ‘Come over here, I’d like you to see something.’
In a daze, Erica approached the doorway of the tiny bathroom. Her heavy breasts swayed back and forth inside her blouse as she walked, but she was scarcely aware of them any more. She paused just outside the doorway as the chairman grabbed hold of his secretary’s head, and guided it into moving more swiftly up and down his erection. ‘You see, Erica... look at me while I’m speaking to you,’ he demanded.
She looked at him. Now he was caressing his secretary’s tightly contained hair. The woman didn’t look up, she was much too busy, and Erica couldn’t tell if she minded being seen like this. She certainly didn’t seem to mind what she was doing.
‘Look at me,’ the chairman repeated.
Erica forced herself to meet his eyes. They were a chilling blue that made her shiver somewhere deep in her belly, and she realised that was why she didn’t like looking at him. The way he made her feel wouldn’t help her get her way during negotiations.
‘You see, Erica, this is private business. What Miss Brown is doing to me - suck Miss Brown, suck, that’s good - is private. We all do this sort of thing behind closed doors... I said, look at me, Erica.’
Her eyes had wandered again; she found it intensely humiliating having to look at his cock disappearing in and out of the kneeling woman’s mouth. She wondered why that was, why she minded what the other woman was doing. But he was talking again, and it was important she listen to what he was saying, that she not let the sight of his rigid, gleaming shaft distract her...
‘We do it in private, Erica, whereas you do it in print.’ Suddenly, he reached up and grabbed one side of her half open blouse.
Automatically Erica moved forward to prevent him for tearing the fine material and fully exposing her breasts, and before she knew it, she found herself bending over his face, between him and his secretary’s bobbing head.
‘Do you like doing things in public, Erica?’ he asked sternly.
‘No Mr... I mean, Chairman Mathews, no...’ she stammered, surreptitiously trying to get his grip off her blouse while politely trying to look back into his hypnotic eyes. Her hand brushed ineffectually at his sleeve.
‘Do not touch me, Erica, not unless you want to touch me where she’s touching me. Would you like to help out?’
‘No!’ Erica quickly dropped her hand as embarrassment added an attractive colour to her cheeks no make-up artist could ever emulate. Bent over him like this, her breasts were practically hanging out of her blouse in plain view of his face as she looked away from his penetrating stare again.
‘Look at me, Erica,’ he commanded.
She looked at him.
His other hand got a firmer grip on the back of his secretary’s head, and he literally shoved her face down into his lap. The woman gave a muffled cry as he pulled her head back up by her tight bun, and then pushed it deep into his crotch again. His expression grew oddly stiff as he looked into Erica’s wide eyes, but he made no sound as he came, there was only the muffled gulping of Miss Brown’s frantic swallowing as Chairman Mathews pumped his cum into her demure little mouth and down her obedient throat. Meanwhile, Erica swallowed dryly as she watched, but her pussy was getting wetter by the second.
Then Chairman Mathews lifted Miss Brown’s head off his still partially erect penis, and let her collapse back onto her efficient tweed skirt as he stood up. ‘You like things public, don’t you, Erica?’
‘No,’ she said quickly. More than ever, she had no idea where to look. His still hard prick bobbed up and down before him when he moved, a drop of sperm quivering on its cleft head, and she suffered the terrifying impression that he wanted her to lick it off. She felt dizzy suppressing the urge to sink willingly to her knees before it as she tried to keep a firm grip on the conversation.
‘On your knees, Erica.’
‘Sir,’ she said weakly, ‘I can explain about the photographs...’
‘Do you want to keep working here, Erica?’
‘Yes, sir,’ she answered miserably.
‘Then on your knees.’
‘I have a contract...’ she began, but she knew perfectly well that he could break any contract she had signed. Feeling two inches tall, she sank to her knees before him so his cock hung in the air directly in front of her face. The secretary did not look at her, and she too kept her eyes away from the other woman.
‘Erica, pull my trousers up for me, please,’ said the chairman.
Trying not to look at his prick as she did so, Erica pulled his sleek black trousers up for him, and then looked up as he zipped them closed just over her head.
‘Erica, you don’t understand boundaries. You don’t understand boundaries because you have no experience of them. I will have to teach you what boundaries mean.’
Chairman Mathews was still talking, and Erica was still listening, only now she was naked. He had asked her to take her blouse off. Then he had asked her to take her skirt off as well. She had protested, despite a certain thrill at the thought of being seen by him, the same thrill that always, somehow, put her in the position to be caught by photographers doing something most people didn’t get caught doing. This thrill was going to be the death of her...
‘Do you want me to see only as much of you as the rest of the world has seen on the front page of the newspaper?’ Chairman Mathews enquired acidly. ‘If I didn’t think you felt closer to me than you do to these anonymous readers, Erica, I would have to fire you, as it would be a pointed insult. However, if I felt there was some bond between us, a special intimacy that made you want to share something with me you haven’t shown the whole world,’ he sighed meaningfully, ‘well, then, I might have an interest in keeping you around.’
She took a deep breath, and pushed her skirt down, letting it fall around her ankles so she could step out of it.
‘And the rest,’ he said. ‘You show more than that on a tanning salon bench, Erica. Get on with it.’
She bit her lower lip, slipped her fingers into the sides of her bikini bottoms, and lifted them down off her blonde bush. She was still wearing the bikini bottoms from her midnight swim, the ones the photographer had caught her in, the bikini bottoms resting on breakfast tables everywhere this morning all across the country.
The chairman looked intently down at her mound, protected by lovely, curling blonde hair, and she knew better than to use her hands to try and cover herself. And she liked him looking, that was the vexing thing. She had to suppress a wanton urge to grind her hips and sway towards him. But she did sway a little she felt so light-headed, and shifted her weight from one high-heel to another feeling like a little girl standing in front of a stern headmaster. She would be bumping and grinding in his face soon if she let herself go...
‘At least now I know you’re a natural blonde,’ he remarked.
She tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it.
‘Sit in that armchair and keep your legs open,’ he instructed.
She sat down demurely, and her blush deepened as she made herself obey his command to keep her legs spread. Then he told her to lift her thighs over the arms of the chair, and totally unsettled her. But she obeyed him, and wriggled her bottom against the firm cushion as he studied her most private parts. She had to struggle not to let her excitement get out of hand as she concentrated on what he was saying.
He was summing up her job. She was the lead presenter on a sports quiz show. Sports personalities were invited to appear, and were asked questions. It was her job to tell them if they had the right answer or if they had gotten it wrong. She had met quite a few men during the filming of the show that had gotten her into trouble later. ‘I think that’s what the problem is, Erica,’ chairman Mathews concluded as he walked slowly back and forth in front of the chair on which she sat spread-eagled, keeping her gaping pussy in full view as he spoke. He never walked so far to one side that he could not keep looking straight at the exposed core of her feminine flesh, and she writhed beneath his assessing stare, unconsciously thrusting her vulva up towards his eyes. ‘Your trouble is that you can’t keep your hands off these men. You can’t keep your hands off the players, my girl. But that’s all right, it doesn’t have to be a problem. You’re just going to have to learn to go all the way, that’s all.’
The secretary, thank God, had been sent out of the suite before he told her to strip, but now Erica began wondering if that was such a good thing after all. She could sense where this was going, and she wasn’t sure she should do what her throbbing, begging pussy wanted. Her mind told her to put her legs together like a good girl and talk business. Her cunt wanted her to slide forward in the chair, raise her legs and shove her feet behind her head so he could really look.
Chairman Mathews was walking back and forth in front of her, staring at her, and she could see the sight was affecting him. In his trousers - the sleek black trousers she had watched him zip up only minutes ago - a new bulge was becoming visible. The prick she had helped him put away was getting stiff again as his eyes lingered on her spread cleft and her soft blonde pubic hair.
‘What we’ll do, Erica...’ he paused, and abruptly stopped pacing to lean over her.
She shivered at how close he was, finally. Those bloody eyes! Why couldn’t they be bloodshot and baggy? Your boss shouldn’t have eyes like sapphires. It should be against the law!
‘What we’ll do,’ he went on quietly, ‘is let you have your fun, only we’ll do it under the bright lights for all our viewers to enjoy.’
She looked breathlessly up into his gemstone-hard eyes. Was he going to touch her? Her mind was afraid of that new bulge in his trousers, but her body was thrilled by it. Her pussy was urging her to reach out and touch it to determine just how hard he was for her. He was looking deep into her eyes again. He hadn’t done that since he came in his secretary’s mouth. ‘What do you mean... for the viewers?’ she asked, even though she really couldn’t think straight. She was too busy concentrating on not letting herself reach out for him. She could not let herself, that much she knew for certain, or she would lose any negotiating power she had left. If she kept wanting to touch him so much, she was going to end up doing whatever he told her to...
‘You’ll do it for your viewers,’ he said. ‘You like to be seen, don’t you?’
‘Do what, sir?’
‘What you’re doing for me.’
Her eyes widened in disbelief. ‘What?’
‘When they answer the questions correctly,’ he elaborated, ‘this is what they win.’
Erica looked up at him, not letting herself understand. The bulge in his trousers shifted slightly to the left. She could just put one hand out and trace its shape through the soft material...
‘We’ll air the show later at night, post watershed,’ he informed her, and smiled down into her uncomprehending eyes. ‘We’ll get you a costume, some lovely lacy number that comes apart in bits.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, even as the thought of wearing a stripper’s outfit that came off easily, one seductive piece at a time, made her push her hips up off the chair.
‘To make the show last, my pretty, the winners can be rewarded little by little for each question they answer correctly. First, they get to see this...’ he grabbed her right breast, and squeezed it.
She gasped, and jumped in the chair from the totally unexpected pleasure of his sudden, possessive grip, and now all she wanted was for him to squeeze her other breast as well. ‘And... and if they answer all the questions correctly?’ she asked in a husky voice, concentrating hard on not returning his touch.
‘That’s just the start, my dear. When they’ve answered the first round, and your kit is all off, then they compete for positions.’
Erica struggled to stay seated upright in the chair. His face was looming directly over her face now, his breath mingling with hers, and she wanted his zipper down more than anything. ‘Chairman Mathews, I’m sorry, I...’
‘If you want to work in television ever again, Erica, you won’t break our contract. You have to work for me no matter what I do to the format of the show, and I’ve decided on an adult format for our after-hours viewing audience. That’s why I tested the public’s reaction.’
‘The public’s reaction?’ she asked, and gasped again as his hand moved down to her belly and lightly stroked her bush. His fingers lingered over it, tormenting her. If only he would only put them where they belonged, inside her!
‘You see, Erica, all the pictures in the newspapers were my idea.’ He smiled down at her again. ‘I hired photographers to follow you.’
‘It was you?’ This admission of profiteering lust from him stripped the last vestige of professionalism from the interview, and suddenly she realised how utterly naked and helpless she was in every sense. Her whole being was as exposed and eager and greedy as the aching clit she longed to shove up into his mouth.
‘It was me.’ His smile deepened as his fingertips gently parted the lips of her pussy and slipped up her slick labia to her throbbing button. ‘I know the public want to see more of you, so the sports stars get to fuck you live on television twice a week, the ones that win, that is. Only the ones that win are worth letting in, don’t you agree?’ And his hand started working on her.
‘Oh, God, I can’t... I mustn’t...’
‘You can, Erica, you’re a natural. And speaking of winners,’ he added, ‘let’s let the first one in right now. On the floor, my dear, on your front. I want to show you your new position here at the station. This is the position you’ll assume when the champions screw you. You’ll be a very flexible prize.’
‘But...’
‘Face down on the floor, Erica. I’m sure you’ve been taken that way before.’
‘Not professionally...’ she slipped out of the chair onto her knees.
‘These young athletes know how to get it into the net,’ the Chairman said, ‘but it takes an older man to know what to do with it once it’s been bagged.’ He slipped off his black silk tie.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked in a trembling voice, she was so eager for him to do it, to feel him inside her.
‘Put your hands behind your back,’ he said.
‘Is this in the contract?’ she asked faintly.
‘I’ll have you spanked at the beginning of every show if you’re not careful, Erica.’
Crouching forward, she put her hands behind her and felt him wrap the cool silk around her wrists twice before he tied a firm knot. She could scarcely believe she was kneeling at the foot of Chairman Mathews’s chair with her bare bottom thrust up into the air. And suddenly, he hit her hard with the flat of his palm. The smacking sound of his hand coming down on her cheeks sounded incredibly loud in the wood-panelled room. ‘Ouch!’ she cried, because this was something new to her. None of the men she had been with had ever raised a hand to her like this. The smooth flesh of her bottom stung terribly, and a tremor of mingled fear and desire forked through her belly and welled up into her throat in the form of a long, passionate moan. She ground her hips up and back, desperate to feel his cock inside her.
‘Would you like me to put that in your contract, Erica?’ Chairman Mathews’s eyes shone as he unzipped his trousers.
‘I’ll do whatever you say,’ she replied huskily from deep in her throat, and closed her eyes as he raised his hand to spank her again, and again. Then her cries of pain tapered out into a low groan of longing when she finally felt his weight against her. Tears pricked the back of her eyes, tears of frustration that she had lost control of herself, but then she forgot everything except for the sensation of his hand stroking her pussy. His fingers were teasing her, and getting her even hotter and wetter than she already was, which hardly seemed possible. At the same time her tears dried up as she accepted the fact that she didn’t have a problem with being the Chairman’s slut, she didn’t have a problem with it at all, in fact. She was a public girl and she liked to be noticed and she would be in the public eye a great deal from now on. She pressed her face against the expensive carpet as she thrust her buttocks up into the air for him, and stifled a moan of disappointment as he pulled her cheeks apart, and slowly pushed his erection into her bottom, bracing himself on her hips as he got what he wanted, and she got what she could never have asked for out loud. He banged her with a vengeance, his blue eyes blazing, and she came and came as she accepted her new position and began her new public career when Chairman Matthews came in her arse.
Her arse was such a lovely rose colour from the spanking that Chairman Mathews declared she would have to come visit him before every show, so her viewers would get to see the best her body had to offer in full glorious colour, and he would put this clause in her new contract. He said he would make sure she gave herself fully to her public as he squeezed her sore buttocks. She moaned, her mind reeling as she felt him step in front of her. Her lifted her head up by the hair, and made her lick his erection. And she did it, she willingly licked the cock that had just come out of her bottom. He patted her blonde curls approvingly, and then untied her hands and told her to crawl over to the little bathroom, where he handed her a sponge and rubber gloves and ordered her to clean the floor.
‘You told me you would do anything I said,’ he reminded her, casually slipping his tie back on.
Utterly dazed, Erica slipped on the pink latex gloves, picked up the sponge, and knelt down on all fours on the hard tiles.
‘Here.’ Suds splashed out of the tin bucket he shoved towards her with his foot. ‘Now put some foam on your nipples, Erica, and turn to me at smile.’
She looked up at him without thinking, and the flash from a camera blinded her for an instant. The instamatic whirred, and a moment later Chairman Mathews was waving a drying print over her face. She saw a naked girl on her knees next to a bucket and a toilet, a sponge in her hand.
‘Now be a good girl, Erica, or I’ll have to put this picture in the papers and show the world what you really are, an obedient little scrubber, not the glamour queen everyone wants to fuck. Clean my toilet before you leave, please.’
And while Erica scrubbed, he took more pictures of her, focusing especially on the lovely round, glowing bottom that would soon be the star of the late show.
Miss Smith was a schoolteacher in the last stretch of her first training year. She was blonde and pretty, her hair almost as short as a boy’s, but her figure, more often than not exposed by tight T-shirts and jeans, made it abundantly clear she was a girl. Indeed, all the boys at her school, St Martin’s on Tyne, never tired of looking at the shape of her lovely breasts nestling like perfect round apples beneath her blouse, with the stems of her nipples poking enticingly against the fine cotton. Nor did they tire of admiring her buttocks, tight as melons that made you want to squeeze them and dig your fingers into their soft warmth.
Miss Smith was on edge today, because although she was near the end of her teacher training year, this week was to be the crucial test of her pith, her stamina, and her authority over her charges. The week would begin when, alone with thirty boys and the headmaster, she would ride down to Readingly, another boys’ school, for the annual Schools’ Meet. The schools would compete against each other at cricket and all the other usual sports, which meant the boys would run about in the mud a lot. Normally more than one member of staff accompanied the headmaster to this event, but this time the school nurse had sprained a leg and begged off, saying the Readingly nurse would serve for both teams. And so the headmaster, a tall, greying and slightly forbidding man, smiled sweetly and told Miss Smith that it was just him and her. ‘Just we two and the elements,’ he said cheerfully.
‘How lovely, headmaster.’ She returned his smile even as her insides turned to jelly.
Everything went well until their first night away when the boys were sleeping in the Readingly dorm in the beds left vacant by other boys; the sports day was planned to coincide with other excursions, thus leaving the loud and rambunctious sixteen to eighteen-year-olds alone in the school. This meant there was an entire floor of approximately fifty beds occupied by sixteen to eighteen-year-old boys. The Readingly staff were reduced, since many of them had to go with the older boys on their own field trips.
On the night of Miss Smith’s arrival with her loud and rambunctious charges, it was with some alarm that she realised her only professional companion, the headmaster himself, had been invited by the Readingly school’s own headmaster to drink in the Readingly Library, with its fireplace and leather chairs and crystal decanted old port. The Readingly nurse went home to her cottage on the edge of the grounds, and the male staff were all away on field trips. This, with the two headmasters ensconced contentedly over drinks and a game of chess in the library, left Miss Smith in sole charge of fifty boys. The responsibility fell on her alone to somehow make sure they all stayed in their beds.
She didn’t mind, really. Yes, there were the saucy comments from the older boys to deal with, after all, they were boys and randy as goats, but she didn’t mind too much. She blushed a little as she felt their eyes devouring her breasts as she passed down the halls in school, but she wore tight T-shirts because she liked to be noticed. She enjoyed the power her curvaceous body gave her over the male breed. She even enjoyed catching their eyes on her bottom as she turned away from the blackboard during a lesson, or looked up from her marking at the desk to find some boy staring deep into the neckline of her blouse, and blushing red as beetroot when she met his eyes.
That was how she had first noticed Darren Coombes liked her. He was taller than most of the other boys, and more than most, he seemed a man at seventeen. She had seen him swimming once when she passed the school swimming hall, and as she paused to admire his well-muscled body, he had finished his lap and caught her staring at him. Then one day she had caught his gaze burning through her T-shirt during maths. She asked him if he could count beyond the number two, and he went the colour of ripe plums with embarrassment. Ever since then he had not looked her in the eye again, not until that first night at Readingly.
She had the advantage in the dorm, in that all the boys were sleeping in adjoining wings and the partitions had been pulled back between them to make patrolling and controlling the huge lot of young manhood more simple. She walked, holding a torch, down the corridor between the two long rows of beds, flashing the narrow beam of light here and there and occasionally catching a furtive face. The headmaster had made it clear he did not wish to be disturbed this evening, and he was not above dropping her final grade as a trainee teacher on the basis of something as stupid as being made to lose a game of chess against another headmaster. And then her wandering beam of torchlight hit upon a sheet that was clearly being agitated. The agitations took the form of an up and down motion which suggested a boy was doing something improper with himself. She flashed the light over the head of the bed, and was surprised to see Darren Coombes’ face looking up at her with a leer, instead of with the mortified expression she had expected to see.
‘Found something interesting, Darren?’ she asked as insouciantly as she could. ‘Still having trouble dealing with things that come in twos, I see.’
He didn’t blush, and his stare did not waver from where it was fixed on her face.
‘Put it away, Darren,’ she said as firmly as she could without sounding too stern, ‘or it’ll fall off.’
‘Why don’t you put it away for me, miss?’
She was astonished. A bit of a fidget in the dark could be expected, but this insolence was inexcusable; she could not possibly let him get away with it. ‘What did you say, Darren?’ She was still whispering. She could not be sure how many boys within ear shot were still awake.
‘Why don’t you put my dick away for me, Miss Smith?’
‘Keep your voice down!’ she hissed. ‘Are you aware of how much trouble you’re in?’ She made an effort to keep her own voice playful - he was, after all, only a horny boy, God bless him - but such presumption could not be tolerated.
‘Are you aware,’ Darren pulled himself up in the bed, his hand still pumping away beneath the sheet, ‘of how much trouble you are in, Miss Smith, with a riot about to break out?’
She looked at him in consternation. He was almost a man, really, and with his hand still insolently going up and down under the sheet, the look in his eyes was worrisome. Yet what could he be talking about? Then a light hit her full in the face from across the room as someone else lit a torch. ‘Who is that?’ she demanded, but then another light hit her, and then another one. She was caught in a triangulated set of torch beams coming from three different sides of the dorm. And then a fourth torch came to life, and another one, and another one, until it seemed as if every boy had hidden a torch under his pillow. Miss Smith felt the blood rushing up into her face.
‘Miss Smith,’ Darren Coombes sighed.
‘I demand to know what the meaning of this is!’ she blurted. ‘Darren, are you responsible for this... this...?’
‘Rebellion?’ He smiled up at her, and at least his hand stopped moving beneath the sheet. ‘I wouldn’t call it that, miss, not yet.’
‘What are you talking about?’ She told herself to remain calm. She had to remain calm. Too much was at stake here to panic.
‘I’m talking about fifty boys wide-awake and in need of entertainment,’ Darren explained. ‘If you don’t entertain us, we’ll turn the place into a madhouse and disturb the headmasters.’
He would make a great negotiator one day, she thought wildly, suddenly disturbed instead of relieved by the fact that his hand was no longer pulling at his cock beneath the sheet. It made her wonder what he thought was going to touch his cock now instead of his hand. It made her mouth water against her will and her legs feel weak. ‘What... what are you thinking of?’ she muttered. The lights of a good forty to fifty torches were shining directly on her. She felt as though she was on stage beneath a hot spotlight trained directly on her. She could feel the subtle warmth of so many penetrating beams pricking the hairs on her bare arms, and almost caressing her breasts through her thin T-shirt like a very soft summer breeze.
‘Strip,’ Darren Coombes said.
Just one word and her whole universe was suddenly turned upside-down. She stood gaping at him in pure disbelief. Then all around her in the breathless silence, as she tried to absorb that one word, she heard fifty beds creak as fifty boys edged forward across the sheets. She could almost feel them all holding their breaths, waiting. ‘You - you can’t be serious,’ she said.
No sooner had the words passed her lips than Miss Smith heard the first hand landing on the first bed frame with a clang of hollow steel tubing, followed by another clang as another hand fell to brace itself on another bed frame. Suddenly the dorm was becoming a dangerously loud percussion orchestra. And then the chant began, ‘Strip! Strip! Strip! Strip! Strip! Strip!’
‘Get your panties down for the lads.’ Darren Coombes smiled up at her placidly over the growing noise. ‘It’s the least you can do, Miss Smith. After all, we’ve all behaved very well for you this year, haven’t we, and fair’s fair, isn’t it? We scratch your back, you scratch ours.’
‘Enough!’ she cried.
The clanging continued as the chant ‘Strip! Strip! Strip!’ gradually became throatier, more of a threatening growl.
‘You won’t get us to be quiet any other way,’ Darren warned her, somehow making his quietly firm voice audible to her over the commotion.
‘No,’ she gasped. ‘I couldn’t possibly!’
‘Strip! Strip! Strip! Strip! Strip! Strip!’
‘All right!’ she screeched, suddenly prepared to do anything to stop all this dreadful noise. Any second now, she was sure, the headmaster would hear it and her career as a teacher would be over before it ever really began. She would cause him to lose his chess game and it would be proved that his staff could not control his pupils. She would be downgraded at the end of her year; she would not teach at St Martin’s again. Perhaps she would never be able to teach anywhere again. She had to stop this terrible racket at once.
‘All right,’ she said again, more calmly.
Darren raised a hand, and a blessed silence fell over the dorm. Suddenly it was so quiet she could hear raindrops pattering softly against the windows. ‘Your shoes first,’ Darren said.
‘What did you have in mind?’ she asked, trying to sound casual and to buy herself some time to think about how she could get out of this very strange predicament she found herself in.
‘Take your shoes off or we’ll lose you your job.’ Darren’s tone was a slap in the face.
Blushing to the roots of her hair, she bent over to undo them, and her blush deepened as someone whistled at the sight of her bottom raised up into the air, now the avid target of the combined torchlight. She straightened up again quickly, and stepped out of her shoes. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’ She tried to smile, as if her heart wasn’t racing and making it hard for her to think straight.
‘Your shirt,’ Darren said simply. ‘Take it off.’
‘What are you getting out of this, Darren?’ She appealed to him directly. ‘Don’t you like me?’
‘Oh, I like you all right, Miss Smith, I just want to see if I can like you even more. Don’t you want to see how much better we can get along, Miss Smith?’
As she was trying to think of an answer, the laughter went out of his eyes.
‘Your shirt,’ he said again, flatly.
She reached to her belt, and tugged the bottom of her T-shirt out of her jeans. She heard the collective catching of over fifty breaths in anticipation as she reluctantly dragged the hem of her T-shirt up over her tummy, and then taking a deep breath herself, pulled it up to expose her bosom. She wasn’t wearing a bra and she felt her breasts spring free, their soft nipples quickly stiffening a little in the cool air of the open dorm. ‘There, is that all right?’ Holding her shirt up, she squinted into the light blinding her as she showed off her stiffening breasts to over fifty pairs of avid eyes; to fifty boys who she knew would all love to fuck her; to fifty boys who wanted to screw her brains out one after the other... she new she was in trouble when she felt the unmistakable melting sensation in her pussy as it began to get dangerously wet.
‘Take if off,’ Darren insisted.
Without further protest, she pulled her shirt up over her face as she felt all their eyes, hungrily, ravenously devouring her naked torso. Then the shirt was off over her head and she had let it fall to the floor beside her.
‘Now the jeans,’ Darren said.
She looked at him again almost shyly, and started raising a protective hand towards her bare breasts.
‘Drop it,’ he said harshly.
She quickly lowered her hand, and trembling a little, she opened her jeans. She had to tug on the stiff metal zipper, and she cursed the tightness of the denim she had revelled in wearing to torment these boys, who now held her captive. It was that much harder to struggle out of, and she gave over fifty boys quite a show as she was obliged to bend over slightly, thereby sticking her bottom out again in order to push her jeans down her slender legs. There was a soft, collective sigh as the cheeks of her buttocks sprang free of the imprisoning denim.
Finally, she stepped out of her jeans and straightened up again. She was naked now except for a skimpy pair of white cotton panties that barely covered her ash-blonde bush, and she was blushing as deeply as Darren had that day in class when she humiliated him in front of his peers, perhaps even more deeply.
‘Let’s see you,’ he said. He was speaking quite softly now as all the boys shone their torches right between her thighs. Fifty torch beams were aimed right at her pussy.
‘Is there anything else...’ she began without really knowing what she meant to say, ‘I mean, do I really have to? It’s so private. It’s who I am...’
‘This is who I am,’ Darren said, and flung the sheet back to reveal a truly impressive hard-on that launched proudly up from his lap. Its thick length was a lovely pink with a warm purple tip, and it looked like it was positively aching to be taken in.
‘What do you want me to... to do?’ Miss Smith asked weakly.
‘Do you want to show us what you are, and then show us what you do with what we are?’ Darren asked quietly, almost respectfully, his eyes intensely earnest.
‘What do you want?’ she repeated desperately, helplessly, but she already knew, of course. She reached out her hand to him.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand down, and over a hundred wide eyes watched as he forced her down onto her knees beside his bed. ‘Show me,’ he said, ‘what you think of who I am.’
She looked at him, and he looked back at her where she cowered, nearly naked on the floor of a boys’ dorm, and slowly lowered her face over the tumescent head of his beautiful cock. He groaned in anticipation, and fifty torches converged on her face as she parted her lightly painted lips and slipped his helmet between them. After that, there was no closing her mouth or turning back. She sucked Darren Coombes off in front of two sixth forms of teenage boys.
And that wasn’t all she did. Although she sucked as gently as she possibly could, hoping to pull her mouth off in time, Darren gripped her neck firmly when his groin began pulsing, and to her horror, Miss Smith found herself swallowing mouthful after mouthful of her pupil’s cum in front of all his peers. And then she fell flat on her bum next to his bed, her legs spread wide, when he pushed her away from him.
But she still had plenty more mortifications to endure. After Darren Coombes had come he made her take her panties off anyway, as she had known he would. Then he made her bend over the end of his bed as each individual boy stepped up to get a close look at her pussy. She held herself perfectly still while they each shone their torch right on her vulva, but didn’t touch her. That was the deal, that there wouldn’t be any touching. No one but Darren was allowed to touch her. The deal was that Miss Smith would bend over the bed while they all got a good long look at her quim, and then they would all get to watch while Darren fucked her, sitting on a chair, in the middle of the dorm.
First he took her from behind, still bent over the bed, then he sat down on the chair and she mounted him. After that she stood on a small table, also strategically placed in the middle of the dorm, as he fingered her pussy and subjected her to her first public orgasm.
Then Darren spanked her. ‘Just to make it official who’s teaching who, miss,’ he said. She had no choice but to bend over the bed again and take ten of the best from Darren, administered one buttock at a time, with his slipper. The sound of the rubber sole smacking against her cheeks echoed through the dormitory as more than fifty boys counted the strokes out loud while she sobbed and bit the pillow to stifle her cries.
She was sure the headmaster would finally hear something as, after her punishment, Darren shoved her onto her back across his bed and entered her again. He fucked her furiously, with at least ten boys standing around them and a mass of others lining up behind them trying to get a good view, all of them breathing hard and shifting restlessly with every groan she made.
And then she was coming again and found herself begging, with Darren’s name on her lips, to be allowed to show them something more, anything they wanted. Which is how Miss Smith found herself lying facedown on that school bed as the first of the fifty boys, at Darren’s instruction, dropped his pyjama bottoms and spread her cheeks to take his turn.