les histoires de chrislebo

I was apprehensive on my first night of classes but was surprised to find that my friends Sophie and Tom were also taking classes at the same studio. I had known Sophie and Tom for about a year having met her at the gym where I exercise from time to time. Sophie and Tom are a little older than me and have been married for over ten years. They seem to be the perfect couple and I envy her since Tom is willing to learn to dance with her.

The first few weeks of my class were great. We learned a lot from our instructors, Ron and Nancy, as they led us through the different dance steps. Ron is very handsome and a real charmer. He is a little short of six feet tall and he towered over me by a good six or eight inches as we danced. I loved dancing with Ron as he held me in his arms and guided me through the various dance steps. He ran a successful business during the day and he and Nancy ran the dance studio at night.

Nancy is a real beauty. She has a pretty face and beyond the pretty face, we have little in common. She is close to Ron's height and rather muscular looking. Her large breasts seem out of place on such a graceful dancer and her long blonde hair extends nearly halfway down to her back.

I am the exact opposite of Nancy. I keep my brunette hair short and neatly trimmed. I consider myself to be pretty and have been often described as such. I am a petite lady with small firm breasts. While Nancy probably is in the 130 pound range, I am lucky to tip the scales at 105 pounds soaking wet. My tits look great with or without a bra and I often go braless although I always wore one during the class. I have nice legs and my ass seems to draw the attention of the guys who are in our class, especially Ron.

Our classes were held in a studio in a large office complex not too far from my home. It was an easy walk and I enjoyed walking the half mile or so to class. On the bottom floor of the office building was a cozy little coffee shop where we would all go during our intermission. Ron seemed to always sit beside me and on the third night, he allowed his leg to "accidently" brush against my leg. Over the next week it became a routine for us. He sent tiny shivers through my body as our legs brushed under the table. At times, he would sit across from me and would play footsies with me under the table.

I was not totally innocent either. I was thrilled that Ron seemed interested and enjoyed the attention that he gave me in the coffee shop and during class. His eagerness to help me with my dance steps and the sexy way that he held me was extremely flattering. I had been married for over five years at this time and my husband had not looked at me like this or made me feel this special in a very long time.

I had begun to realize that I was really attracted to Ron. Ron oozed sexuality and being a dancer made him even more sensuous. During the last few classes, Ron's gazes seemed to go from admiring glances to "I want to fuck you" glances. His behavior at the coffee shop had become a little more aggressive as well. Instead of simple nudges with his knees or feet, he was now running his hands over my legs on occasion when he thought he could get away with it. We would also purposely hang back and be the last to leave the coffee shop and he would caress my ass as we walked out of the shop.

I don't know why but I let him. Occasionally, as we danced he would steer me down toward the far end of the studio and slip his hand from my back to grab a quick feel of my ass. I was thrilled by Ron's attention but I never had any thoughts of allowing it to go beyond the flirtations and the touching but Ron had different plans. Toward the end of the third week, he was getting more adventurous and I was certainly enjoying the attention.

As class ended one night, we started to leave the building and it was raining heavily outside. I had brought an umbrella but Tom and Sophie had not. Ron offered to give us a lift and we all accepted his generous offer. I quickly crawled in the front with Ron while Tom and Sophie jumped in the back of Ron's Range Rover. We dropped them off first since they lived closer to the studio that me. "Goodbye. Thanks for the ride," we heard them call out as they ran through the rain.

"Is your husband working tonight?" Ron asked as I showed him the turn into our neighborhood. Before I realized what I had done, I told him that he was. He pulled the car over a short distance from our house and leaned over toward me. "I'm really glad that you are in the class," Ron said smiling and leaning even closer. He caught me off guard as he kissed me tenderly on the lips.

"Please take me home," I asked as he leaned in for another kiss. I turned my head away but he grasped my face and turned me back to him. He kissed me more ********** this time and I again resisted. He pulled me as far as my seat belt would allow and again pressed his lips to mine. "No, Ron. We can't," I begged but he continued to search for my lips.

"Just a kiss or two," Ron pleaded. "You're a very sexy woman and I want to kiss you."

He reached down and pressed the seatbelt release and pulled me toward him until I was leaning across the console. We kissed again and this time I gave in and returned his kiss. He rubbed my leg above my knee as he slipped his tongue into my mouth.

I was getting excited as my dance instructor showed me a dominant side of him that I had not seen. His hand slipped up to cup one of my breasts and I slid away from him back into my seat. "You've had your couple of kisses," I growled. I jumped out of the car and as I slammed the door, I heard him say "but Lyn." I ignored him and walked the short distance to my house through the pouring rain.

I entered through the side door to the laundry room, removed my clothes and tossed them in the laundry basket. I stood there in all my glory feeling a mixture of anger and horniness as I headed for the shower. I couldn't deny the fact that my pussy was tingling. I showered quickly and resisted the temptation to bring myself off. Charlie would be home in a couple of hours and I would let him take care of the needs between my legs.

When Charlie arrived, we talked for a few minutes. He had a relatively easy day at work and was anxious to grab a shower and take me to bed. I was lying naked on the bed when he came out of the bathroom. He smiled and his cock began to stir as tossed he towel aside and quickly joined me on the bed.

He made tender love to me as he always did and I came as soon as he entered me. I was having a hard time not thinking about Ron as Charlie thrust his cock slowly and deliberately inside me. Charlie kissed me and flashbacks of Ron thrilled my being. I came again and moaned loudly as Charlie slipped his tongue in my mouth. I sucked on his tongue and bucked my hips as I experienced an awesome orgasm. This turned Charlie on and soon he blasted his load inside me as I came for my third time.

"What's gotten into you?" Charlie asked as he pulled his cock out and rolled over.

"I don't know," I lied. "I've just been so horny all day."

I considered not going back to dance class but I really enjoyed the dancing and in all honesty, I enjoyed Ron's attention. I knew that the intense orgasms I had with my husband were brought about by the flirting at class and the kissing in the car. The flirting was okay by me but the kisses would not happen again.

At our next class, Ron resumed his flirting with me and as we were dancing, he told me he was sorry that he had pushed me so far in the car. I told him that it couldn't happen again and he assured me that it would not.

As we left that night, Ron offered a ride to us again and Tom and Sophie graciously accepted. I thanked him and declined but Tom and Sophie chimed in and insisted. I reluctantly agreed and climbed in the front seat again. I was determined to avoid any advances this time.

Ron pulled over at the same place again and turned toward me. "I'm sorry about the other night," he apologized, "but I've enjoyed our flirtations and wanted to kiss and touch you." He explained that he knew that I was married but he was not looking to break up my marriage. He looked so sweet and sexy as he humbled himself before me. "Please Lyn, just let me kiss you and touch your sexy body," he begged.

I was turned on by his sincere approach and I leaned in and our lips met for our first consensual kiss. His hands wasted no time as they roamed my body rubbing my ass and my tits. We kissed for a couple of minutes and I broke it off. "I don't want to tease you but that is about as far as I will go," I stated firmly. He said that he understood and kissed me again. He slipped his hand under my top and had a naked breast in his hand before I knew it. He continued to kiss me for a couple of minutes and leaned across the console to get his body closer to me.

"Stop, Ron!" I demanded and he followed my instructions. I asked him to take me home and he reluctantly removed his hand from my tits. He started the car and drove me to my house. "I'm sorry Ron, but I'm not going to be unfaithful to my husband," I told him as I exited his vehicle.

"I'm sorry too, Lyn," I heard him say as I closed the door behind me. .

I walked home from the next class after Ron again told me he was sorry for his actions. I thought to myself, he's just sorry that he didn't get into my pants. To be honest, a part of me was too. I still wanted to resist him and was determined to remain faithful to my husband.

The next class was on Sunday night and Charlie was working the afternoon shift and would not be home until midnight. The class was great and I was having a fun time as we concentrated on the Salsa, a sexy Latin American dance. The Salsa is similar to the Mambo in that they both are eight step dances with a pause on the fourth and eighth step.

I especially liked the Salsa because it is more of a side-to-side dance than the Mambo which is more front and back. The turns and spins made me feel sexy as I again practiced my dance moves with Ron. Ron had taken a special interest in teaching me the Salsa and my love for the dance made me an eager student. I had progressed nicely and toward the end of the class, Ron and I along with Nancy and Rich, another excellent dancer in our class, presented a Salsa demonstration for the rest of the class.

I felt sexy as Ron moved me around the dance floor. One, two three, pause, five, six, seven, pause continuously ran through my head as we moved our bodies to the thumping beat of the Latin American music. I was having a great time and didn't want the dance to end but soon the music ended and the rest of the class gave us a rousing ovation. We were all smiling as we walked over to the locker area and changed into our regular shoes.

Once again, Ron gave us all a ride home and this time I didn't refuse. We dropped off Tom and Sophie and then Ron took a turn down a road that led to an old abandoned factory. "Where are we going?" I asked as Ron slowed and pulled into a wooded area at the end of the road.

"I thought we could use a little privacy," Ron suggested as he released his seat belt and leaned toward me. He kissed me sweetly and leaned back in his seat. "I love the Salsa," Ron remarked. "It is the sexiest dance and you're a natural. Your sexy legs and perfect ass are made for the Salsa," he continued as he leaned in and kissed me again.

"I can't stay long. Charlie will be home soon," I said as Ron released me and stroked his hand through my hair. "You're so sexy," Ron remarked as he unbuckled my seatbelt and slid me as close to him as was possible in the front seat of a Range Rover. He kissed me again and began to fondle me through my clothes. I had worn a cute skirt that ended just above my knees and he had found the end of it as he worked his up my legs. I know I should have stopped him but for some reason, I didn't.

He worked his way to the top of my stockings. I wear sheer self supporting stockings when I dance. They make my legs look great and I enjoy the feel. I can't bring myself to wear panty hose as they are so confining and stockings and garters are a little risqué for dance class. He soon was above my stockings and headed for the Promised Land.

"I need to go. Charlie will be home soon," I repeated as Ron continued to kiss and caress me.. I needed to stop him soon while I still had the willpower to resist him. "Ron, please stop," I pleaded as his hand crept higher and his fingers grazed my young, married pussy for the first time. "Please," I panted, "Charlie will be home soon."

"Nonsense," Ron sternly replied as he reached across and adjusted the seat so I was fully reclined. "He won't be home until after midnight and maybe later if he stops for a couple of ****** with his buddies, he added as he leaned in and worked his fingers under the elastic. "You're so wet," Ron said as he looked deep into my eyes and smiled at me. "You know you want it Lyn," he remarked as first one and then another of his fingers slid snugly into my wet cunt.

"Mmmmm," I moaned as Ron slowly jabbed his thick fingers in and out of my slippery hole. Little did I know that this would be about the only thing that Ron would do gently the rest of the night. He continued working his fingers inside me and as our kisses became more passionate he rammed his fingers more ********** into me.

I couldn't stop him. Ron added a third finger as he roughly rubbed my tits and worked his hand under my top to get better access. His hand pushed my bra up and he rubbed first one and then the other of my firm young breasts. There was no tenderness with Ron as he squeezed my tits and pinched each of my nipples between his thumb and finger.

Ron stopped fingering me and turned all of his attention to my chest. My top soon found its way into the back seat and my bra followed shortly. "We need to stop this," I suggested but Ron paid no attention as he roughly sucked my tits and bit my nipples. Electric shocks flew through my body as he continued to pleasure himself by assaulting my breasts. I loved Ron's rough treatment which was a total contrast to the tenderness that my husband showed when he sucked my tits.

Soon, Ron had his fingers back in my pussy and was alternating between hot kisses to my lips and rough caresses to my breasts. I had a little orgasm as he continued to seduce me. Ron removed my panties and slid them down until they hung loosely at my ankles.

"Ron, you must stop," I panted as he continued to ravish my tender body. My skirt soon followed and found its way into the floorboard with my panties. I instinctively pulled a foot out of them and kicked them to the side leaving them dangling from my ankle. Ron was beginning to move across the console toward me and I sensed that I was about to reach the point of no return. I was panting both from the excitement that I felt inside my body and from the realization that Ron was about to fuck me. "We've got to stop now!" I said more ********** than before.

"You know you want it Lyn. You've wanted this for a long time," Ron replied as he unfastened his belt and let his trousers drop to the floor. His boxers went shortly after his trousers and Ron was naked from the waist down. He had kicked his shoes off on his side of the vehicle and he was now ready to crawl between my legs.

When I saw his cock, I was both excited and scared. My husband's cock is nearly seven inches long and Ron had him by a good inch and a half. His cock looked so different than my husband's too. Ron's circumcised cock had a big fat head and looked to be much thicker than my husband's.

Ron kicked at the mass of clothes that lay in the floor and crawled squarely between my legs. He took his huge cock in his hand and asked me if I was on the pill. I instinctively nodded yes as my eyes pleaded with him not to take me. "Please, no," I begged as Ron smiled and rubbed his thick cock through my wet pussy lips. "I'm married. I can't let you do this," I whimpered but to no avail.

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The Young Don's Whores


Introduction

The thunder rolled across the sky as the large funeral procession snaked its way to the vacant grave to receive the cemetery's latest resident. Frank Tierney was an Irish immigrant's ***. He was born in Leeds, Yorkshire in England. As a young man became involved in organised crime. Eventually he rose in the ranks of the crime syndicate's hierarchy and eventually after some twenty-five years became head of the organisation. His organisation controlled much of the gambling, prostitution and general racketeering in the North Midlands. Frank had been so careful and calculating that no crime could ever be traced back to him. All his legitimate enterprises were just fronts for his criminal organisation. He likened himself to a ********* and had done many favours for ordinary people. This kept a strong sense of loyalty to him. He became known as the ********* or the Don of the North East. The authorities, though, could prove nothing. Now he was dead at fifty-seven. Cancer had done what rival gangs had failed to do.

As the coffin was lowered into the grave and the Priest, ****** Joe Millea gave the final prayers, his ***, Paul stood at the grave. Beside him was his ******'s common law wife, Anne Carter. She was only thirty-eight. She had worked in one of Frank's casinos. Frank was smitten by her and he installed her as the new mistress of his house. Frank's wife, Mary, had left him many years ago for another man and when he threatened to have them killed, they both fled to America.

Paul never accepted Anne as his **********. Indeed, he was only ten years her junior. Although in public, Paul treated her with compassion and understanding at the funeral, Anne knew she was in trouble. When she moved in with Frank five years ago, her family disowned her. Frank's death was so sudden that he had not time to rewrite his will and everything he had passed on to Paul. It was even rumoured that Paul had poisoned his ****** in order to control the organisation. He was known to be ruthless, even more than his ******. She was literally penniless and possibly homeless too.

Paul had a prominent part in his ******'s crime empire. He had built his own network within it. So much so that as soon as his ****** died, he moved to have himself installed as the new Don. This was done most effectively, usually by coercion or blackmail and sometimes, violence. Like his ******, none of it could be traced to him. He had exercised his power in the organisation, now he would do the same in his

home too.

Subjection of Anne Carter

On the night of the funeral, Paul and Anne sat silently in the huge living room. Anne nervously broke the silence.

"Can I do anything for you?"

Paul's response shocked her.

"Yeah. Get naked."

She rose in anger. "You can't speak to me like..."

She didn't get to finish the sentence because Paul sprang at her and drove a fist into her slim stomach and before she could counter, he back handed her, making her crash onto the sofa. Paul grabbed Anne's hair and she yelled in pain.

"Please Paul, don't do this. Please."

"Are you going to obey me?"

The frightened woman nodded.

"I didn't hear you."

"Yes," screamed Anne.

Paul released her hair.

"Now get up and get your clothes off."

Anne slowly rose and for a second stopped, hoping in vain for a reprieve. It never came. She hesitantly undressed. Removing her woollen polo neck and jeans revealed her plain white bra and matching knickers. She stopped.

"Keep going," yelled Paul.

Anne knew she had no choice. The staff would have heard her cries but they knew better than to interfere with Paul.

When she stood naked before him, Anne instinctively covered her breasts and pussy.

"Put your hands down by your sides. You're mine now and you'll hide nothing from me."

His anger chilled Anne to the bone. She obeyed and Paul walked around his ********** is if inspecting a piece of property. Suddenly he grabbed her by the hair and ****** her to her knees. Unzipping his pants and extracting his huge hardened cock, he ****** Anne to receive it in her mouth. She was astonished at its size.

"Start sucking, you bitch."

He pushed her head back and forth and eventually Anne developed the rhythm.

"That's it bitch. Keep it up."

"Mmmm," was all Anne could utter as the speed of her rhythm increased.

"Aaaargh, You are a good cock sucker."

Paul's cum exploded in Anne's mouth and she tried to spit it out, Paul however, held her head back, making her swallow or *********.

"You'll swallow everything, you bitch, and never try to spit it out again or I'll beat you to pulp."

Anne knew Paul well enough to know that he meant what he said.

"Now it's time to get a few things straight. You'll wear only skirts or dresses. I've ordered sexy underwear for you. I ditched your plain stuff."

Anne lost control.

"You invaded my privacy?"

It was a mistake. Paul leapt at her and backhanded her and she crashed to the ground. Grabbing her long black hair he yelled at her.

"Never, ever, answer me back, bitch. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," screamed a terrified Anne.

"Good. Now first of all, get to the bathroom and shave that pussy bare. Then get dressed in the new clothes I've ordered. From now on I'll fuck you whenever I please. Now get out of my sight. I've got work to do."

A naked Anne ran from the room up to her bedroom. She searched her wardrobe and found her jeans and slacks were gone and replaced by dresses and short skirts. She searched her underwear drawer and found only skimpy thongs and low cut revealing bras, as well as some garter belts and stockings.

Anne looked out from the window of her bedroom. The house was a fortress, with a nine foot wall and one gate, guarded day and night by Paul's minders. There was no escape from here. Her home had just become her prison. She wept bitterly as her parents' warning came back to haunt her."There would be no escape from the clutches of these people."

Anne reluctantly chose one of the sexy low cut black bras and a matching thong before settling on a blue dress. She went downstairs to join Paul in the living room.

"Now, that's more like it. I've got work to do in the study. I'll see you later."

Anne sat in silence in the living room for over an hour. Paul opened the door and without a word signalled Anne to follow him. She did as ordered and Paul led her to her own bedroom.

"What are we doing in my bedroom?"

"Correction. Our bedroom." From now on we have sex and ***** together."

"Please Paul. This isn't right."

Anne got nothing else said because a backhand slap made her crash onto the bed. Paul's large hands surrounded her throat and neck.

"Now, I won't tell you again. Never argue with me. Clear?"

The terrified woman nodded.

"Now get up and strip naked for bed."

Anne began to cry as she unzipped her dress and allow it to fall to the ground, revealing her sexy black underwear.

"Wow. You look good. I can see why the old man kept you."

Anne suddenly became shy and tried to cover herself.

"Ah, ah. Get the rest off, or else."

Paul's last words were enough for Anne. She unsnapped her bra and dropped it to the floor and eased her thong down revealing her freshly shaved pussy. A humiliated and naked Anne stood before her stepson. For the first time Paul seemed to be in awe of his **********'s naked beauty. Her luscious breasts, her slim waist, her long slender legs and shaven pussy made him hard like never before. Paul undressed rapidly and ****** his ********** on to the bed.

Paul mounted Anne and began to kiss her luscious lips. She attempted to resist but he tugged her long black hair viciously making her submit. He continued down to her neck and onto her enormous firm breasts. His licking of her nipples made Anne groan reluctantly. She knew this was wrong but she was powerless. She had struggled with her stepson and the servants did not intervene. They all knew better than to do that. That was why Anne finally submitted.

Paul sucked her right and left nipple periodically and began to tongue down her firm, trim waist, making Anne moan in response.

"Ohhh my God," she exhaled.

Paul continued until he worked his way to his **********'s shaven pussy. He began to lick and then suck her pussy with great relish. Anne reacted with lustful enthusiasm and screaming cries of "Yes, oh yes," several times. He halted and inserted his hardened cock, rhythmically pounding her. Far from being angered, Anne, on the contrary, was developing her own rhythm and welcomed her initially unwanted "lover" by screaming "Keep going, Paul. Keep going." She repeated this several times.

As Paul drove his cock in and out, Anne moved her body in a matching rhythm. She also placed her hands on Paul's hips as if to guide his actions. They both became consumed in their lust. They both moaned and screamed in orgasm together Anne's love juices flowed and she climaxed. At the same time Paul's cum erupted inside her body, leaving both of them breathless.

"That was good, bitch. But you will be even better from now on. Your sole purpose is to please me. Do that and we'll get on fine."

With that, Paul turned on his side and gradually fell a*****. Anne wept silently and quite simply cried herself to *****. She didn't know it yet, but Anne Carter was simply the beginning for Paul. Soon whether or not they liked it, the owners of the businesses "protected" by Paul's "Company" would have to surrender their wives, ********* or employees as part payment for their "Protection", for the Don's pleasure, of course. This was the beginning of the young Don's sexual reign of terror.

The young Don begins "Recruiting"

After a weekend of fucking his new sex slave **********, Paul remarked jokingly to one of his minders, Dave Slater, how refreshed he felt, as he entered his study to look over the reports his head of rackets, Frank Talbot, had brought him, that Monday morning. It was a list of the fifty stores in the main shopping complex of the city, all of which were "protected" by Paul's firm. Suddenly, something caught his eye.

"What's this?" he asked Frank Talbot, pointing to an entry marked "BW, -two thousand pounds."

"Oh, that's Barbara Weston. She owns the Weston & Weston boutique in the centre. She said she could only pay the three thousand pounds this week."

"Bring her in here now."

"But," Frank's voice tailed off as Paul stared at him, narrowing his eyes.

"Ok, Boss," he responded meekly.

Barbara Weston was talking to one of her staff as the two tall men, neatly dressed in grey suits walked in. Barbara knew this was trouble.

"May I help you gentlemen?"

"Mrs. Weston, you had better come with us. Mr. Tierney wishes to have a little chat."

The name sent a shiver down her spine, but she tried to be brave.

"Look, if it's the money, I'll make it up at the end of the month.

"I'm afraid that's not the way the boss operates. Please don't make us ***** you to come with us."

"Give me a moment to speak with my assistant."

There was a silent nod.

"Debbie, you'll have to lock up for me. Something's come up and I have to go out."

"Sure Mrs. Weston. What is it? Who are those guys?"

"Domestic problems dear. Don't worry about it."

With that Barbara was ushered into the back seat of a black Mercedes and taken to the home of Paul Tierney, which was only a twenty minute drive.

Barbara was led into the hallway of the magnificent mansion that was Paul Tierney's home. Anne looked on helplessly from the landing as she observed the terrified woman, here for what she guessed, would be a terrible punishment.

The double doors to Paul's study opened and she was silently beckoned in by Frank Talbot, who at that same moment, withdrew, leaving her with Paul and her two companions who had brought her.

Paul looked busy looking through some papers as Barbara began to speak.

"Look, Mr. Tierney..."

Something in his stare prevented her from going any further as he raised his hand in silence. A chilled feeling gripped her.

"You owe me two thousand pounds."

"I know that, Mr. Tierney. The business is a little slack at the moment but I promise I will pay you. Please, I just need more time."

"There is a penalty for late payers. Let me see," Paul pretended to calculate. "Two thousand pounds plus interest and the original sum come to nine thousand pounds."

"What?" yelled Barbra in an astonished tone. "You can't do this. I'd never make the payments no matter how good business is."

Paul got up from his desk and walked in front of her, admiring her beautiful form.

Although she was forty-two, Barbara Weston was still an attractive woman. Her blonde hair was cut back. Her white blouse failed to hide outline of her medium breasts. Her blue skirt and knee high, black leather boots complemented her figure. Even her black, square rimmed glasses seemed to do something for her.

"I'm afraid you'll have to work it off."

"How?" she asked in an uneasy tone.

"Strip," he responded.

For a second, Barbara was stunned. Then in a furious tone she yelled, "Go and fuck yourself," and headed for the door.

A nod from Paul signalled to the two men to stop her and then they began to undress her violently.

"Stop it. Get off me," she screamed as the men struggled at their task.

Suddenly, what felt like a jolt of electricity stabbed her back and she was subdued.

She was held up, totally naked, by the two men.

Paul studied with satisfaction, the hardening of her nipples and the full bush of her pussy.

"You maniac. I'll go to the police."

Another nod from Paul and the two men dragged her to a large basin of water. They *****fully submerged her head.

"Gulp," was the last thing was heard from her for several seconds. When they allowed her up, Barbara desperately gasped for air before she was submerged again. Once again she was released and this time Paul spoke. "You'll learn that it is unwise to try and defy me."

He nodded again and she was submerged for a third time. This time it was a little longer and when she was released, coughing and spluttering, she begged him.

"I'll do whatever you want. Please," she screamed.

"Oh, I know you will," came Paul's sarcastic reply.

"Please, Mr. Tierney, I'll get the money from my husband."

"Georgie boy?" (Referring to George Weston, Barbara's husband). "He owes me more than you do."

"What do you mean?" asked the startled woman.

"His gambling debt in my casino. I already have several markers for his car, boat and house."

"The house?"

"Ah, he didn't tell you then?"

Barbara shook her head silently, in total disbelief.

Again, Paul signalled and one of the men dragged her up by her hair, making her stand. Paul seemed to survey her nude body.

"Well, Eddie. What do you think? Do you think you can use her?" as he turned to the second man.

Eddie came forward gave a brief look.

"Sure boss. She's not bad looking. Some of the punters like them older."

"Punters? What are you talking about?" asked Barbara nervously.

"One of my businesses is an escort agency with a certain clientele. They pay well and expect the full works. You can turn two or three tricks a day. You'll have you and your husband's debt paid in no time," he sniggered.

"You want me to whore?"

"I don't think you have any choice in the matter."

Barbara knew she was beaten.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, subdued.

"Well, first off, I want to see that you're up to the mark. Take her to the room," came the firm order, and she was marched, naked, to an upstairs bedroom and thrown on the bed.

"Wait here. The boss will be with you in a few moments," said Eddie, leaving the room and closing the door.

Tears rolled down Barbara's eyes as she tried to contemplate how it came to this. A few hours ago she was a happily married woman with her own business, a loving husband, fine house and good future. Now she was the whore of some hoodlum.

"How could this be happening?"

Her train of thought was broken by the opening of the room door and the appearance of Paul Tierney in a silk robe. Barbara suddenly became afraid and moved further up the bed, in a vain hope of somehow avoiding the inevitable physical encounter between them. With no escape in sight, Barbara Weston submitted to her fate as Paul discarded his robe and mounted his prey.

She was greatly surprised by the sheer gentleness of his actions. His kissing was passionate, something she had missed in her marriage. He began to work down her body with his lips, halting at her breasts and his mouth gently engulfed her right breast, sucking and licking in equal measure, and despite herself, the tingling sensation on her nipples made her moan with satisfaction. He worked down her slim body to her pussy and began to eat it with enormous relish, making Barbara scream "Oh my God," several times, as if she was encouraging a lover.

Finally, he pushed his hardened cock deep inside and began, slowly at first, to pound her, building up speed with each stroke. Barbara became consumed with lust and her own bodily movements corresponded with Paul's rhythm. Both of them began to breath deeper and deeper. They moaned as they neared climax.

"Come on, you bastard. Come on," yelled Barbara, totally forgetting herself, as she felt her orgasm beginning to build.

"Oh, fuck. Oh fuck," screamed Paul as his climax grew and grew. Finally, they both climaxed in volcanic proportions as Paul's enormous hot cum entered her, and her own juices flowed wildly, gave a cry of exhilaration and joy. Paul too yelled out with pleasure. "Aaargh," and for a moment, forgot himself. Having regained his composure, he spoke."You'll do. Get cleaned up. The shower is in there," pointing to the door at the end of the room.

"You've got work to do tonight," and with that he unceremoniously got out of bed, put on his robe and left the room.

Barbara sat up on the bed, stunned. Once again, she contemplated how this could have happened and finally ****** herself towards the shower.

As the jets of hot water struck her, Barbara washed herself with extra intensity, hoping somehow the ********* of her body would be washed away. As she came out of the shower, wrapped in a large bath towel, the door of the room opened and Eddie entered and placed some clothes on the bed.

"Put these on and come down when you're dressed," he ordered, and left the room.

Barbara was shocked as she examined the clothes. The bra was a red, see through and low cut. The thong was worse. It barely covered her pussy and left her arse cheeks exposed. The one piece glitter dress was very short. Her upper thighs were exposed, and the low cut in front, revealed her cleavage, something she never did in her life. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. "My God. I look like a tart," she thought, guiltily, try to hold the tears back.

When she arrived downstairs, Paul and Eddie were waiting.

"Eddie will take you to the casino. He'll introduce you to your client. Remember, do this right; both your and your precious husband's lives depend on it."

His words sent a shiver down her spine.

Barbara Goes to Work.

Barbara was once again ushered into the Mercedes and after a half an hour arrived at the casino. During the drive Eddie explained what was expected.

"Now listen up. Mr. Clarkson is a very important friend of the boss. As a reward for 'Services rendered', he promised him a female companion for the night. You're just the sort he's looking for, mature and we both saw, beautiful. You'll do everything he wants, and I mean everything."

Inside the casino Barbara was led to one of the roulette tables and Eddie called out.

"Mr. Clarkson?"

A small, overweight, balding man swung round.

"Oh, hallo Eddie," shaking the man's hand.

"A present from the boss," looking at Barbara, with a sarcastic grin.

"Wow, Paul doesn't disappoint. What's your name, sweet cheeks?"

"Barbara," responded the downcast woman.

Clarkson put his hand to her chin and turned her head up .

"Hey, cheer up Babs. We'll have a good time."

"Excuse us for a moment," said Eddie, as he dragged her a short distance from him.

"Now you listen to me, you stupid bitch. Cheer up. At least act happy. Remember, if don't do this right, there'll be consequences beyond what you and your lousy husband could think off. You keep him happy, you'll keep the boss happy. Keep boss happy, you'll keep me happy. Like the boss, I don't like disappointment and I punish severely. Now get over there and get to work."

She went over and stood beside Clarkson. He put his arm around her.

"I'm on a roll Babs," and she felt his hand slip under her dress and squeezed the cheek of her arse as his winning number was called, making her jump.

"Yes, you've brought me some fresh luck, Babs, " he said laughing.

Complying with her orders, Barbara Weston made a ****** smile and reluctantly kissed her new companion on his bald patch.

"We're going to have a good time Babs, I know it," repeated her client, with a grin.

After about three hours, Clarkson had won several thousand pounds.

"Well. It's been a great night," said Clarkson as he got up.

"Come on sweet cheeks, time for some late night fun," and stuffed several large notes between her breasts, heading for his suite, followed by Barbara, dreading every moment of what was to come.

When they got to his suite, Clarkson immediately removed his jacket and flung it over a chair. Undoing his tie, he turned to Barbara and said, "Brandy?"

She shook her head.

"You should. It'll make you relax," he said with a sly grin, handing her the glass.

Barbara reluctantly took it and downed it in one swallow. Clarkson did the same.

"Boy, you are eager, aren't you?" he said with his now familiar smile.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Barbara contemplated making a break for the door, but Eddie's words of warning came back to haunt her and she simply waited to see what would happen next. She didn't have long to wait as Clarkson moved forward and kissed her lips. It seemed that the taste of the brandy on his lips and the ***** she took made her less nervous because when Clarkson put his hand behind her back pulling the zipper, she simply allowed the dress to fall to the ground, exposing her sexy underwear and smooth legs; it was something she had never done for her husband, let alone this pervert. But she knew she had no choice.

"Wow, nice tits," he yelled excitedly, ripping the bra from her body, and pushing her onto the bed before she could cover them. He quickly stripped and went down on top of her in a fury of lust. In contrast to her encounter with Paul Tierney, this man was rough and simply used brute ***** to control her. Barbara could feel goose pimples appear as he moved down her body. Although she was disgusted with this man ravishing her, Barbara could not help but feel aroused as he sucked and licked her breasts. She wanted to moan but managed to subdue it with effort.

Eventually though, as Clarkson drilled between her pussy lips with his tongue, she could no longer contain her en****** pleasure and moaned with joy. His rough movement had made her wet. Barbara felt her juices beginning to gather. Then suddenly Clarkson withdrew his tongue, much to her disappointment. He replaced it with his large, hardened cock. His rhythm was initially slow and accelerated at every stroke. Barbara's body reacted instinctively and matched his rhythm. They both gradually became lost in their lust. Barbara no longer cared that her body was being ravished. All she knew was that she was enjoying it.

"Oh fuck, more, more, keep going, please, keep going" she begged , with each breath.

Clarkson exhaled a moan of satisfaction. His pumping of Barbara's pussy made him sweat heavily and his breathing became heavier with each stroke. Clarkson came just as Barbara's orgasm erupted, sending them both into a euphoric stupor of sexual joy.

Both Barbara and Clarkson remained still for several moments gathering their breaths. Then Clarkson spoke.

"Well Babs, you're a good fuck. I told you we'd have a good time. Well, it's time to go," and he slapped her on her bare arse in a gesture that was a clear signal for her to leave.

A humiliated Barbara dressed and left the room. She was on the verge of crying when she saw Eddie waiting for her in the hallway. He came towards her.

"Where's the money he gave you?"

She had forgotten about it.

"In my purse," she replied.

"Wow, five hundred pounds. He must have been feeling generous. It'll do for starters. At this rate you wont be long in paying what you owe."

Eddie led her to the waiting Mercedes and they both got in. After a short drive to the Tierney mansion, Eddie led Barbara to Tierney's study. Although it was after three in the morning, Tierney was sitting at his desk.

"You did well tonight, Barbara. Here are your clothes, get changed."

"Where can I change?"

"Right here," he responded with a grin.

"You pervert."

Paul rose up and grabbed Barbara by her hair.

"As I told someone else tonight. It's not wise to cross me," and with that tore the dress from her body, revealing her braless breasts. Likewise, he ripped her thong and ****** her to her knees. He yanked her head up.

"Take my dick out and suck it, bitch."

"Please. No!"

"Do it, you whore or I'll beat the crap out of you."

A terrified Barbara undid the zipper of his pants and extracted the huge hardened organ. Tierney drove it into her mouth and when it hit the back of her throat, Barbara thought she was going to *****. Tierney gave a discreet nod and suddenly Barbara felt hands, presumably Eddie's, move her into doggy style position and another hardened cock was drilled into her arse. Exhausted as she was, Barbara's head was bobbed in and out at regular intervals and at the same time her arse was pounded at a ferocious pace. All that could be heard from the poor woman was the occasional "uugh".

This wasn't Barbara's first oral experience, but it was difficult because of the sheer size of the organ and it was compounded by another huge one ramming her rear. A threesome was certainly new to her.

Barbara could feel Tierney was close to cumming. At the crucial moment though, he withdrew and placing his cock between her breasts, he squeezed them hard, making Barbara yell with pain. His cum sprayed over her breasts, just as he intended and at the same time Eddie's cum exploded inside her. They both yelled a scream of sexual pleasure after releasing their loads. Barbara fell on her side, totally exhausted.

Tierney looked up and saw the door to his study slightly ajar and the image of his ********** spying on him. When she realised he'd seen her, Anne tried to run but Paul was too fast and caught her at the foot of the stairs. Yanking her hair back, he dragged her into the study.

"You bitch. I'll teach you to spy on me."

The terrified woman screamed.

"Please Paul, don't hurt me. I'll do anything, I swear. Please!" she begged.

Paul looked down at the exhausted Barbara Weston.

"Well, Barbara dear, it looks like you're in for a little treat. Turn her over on her back, " he ordered. Barbara was so exhausted, both physically and mentally, that she neither comprehended or cared about what he meant.

Eddie duly obliged.

"She needs to be cleaned up. Lick her clean," he said to his ********** and tore the thin dressing gown from her, revealing beautiful, naked body to all of them.

Anne was shocked. She had never done anything like this. She was straight. She thought of refusing but fear of a beating from her stepson made her think again.

Anne went down gently on the cum covered stranger and began to slowly lick. First around her nipples in a circular movement and expanded the circle with every complete circle, eventually clearing both breasts. Barbara, meanwhile, exhausted though she was, felt a certain renewal of strength and excitement at this woman's gentle caressing of her breasts and could not help releasing a moan of pleasure.

"Oh my God," she repeated several times.

Anne thought she was finished when the cum was gone but Paul yelled at her.

"Don't stop now, you stupid bitch. Get down there and eat her pussy."

Eddie pulled him aside and whispered something to him.

"That's a good idea, Eddie. Ok. Change of plan. Get into a sixty-nine and eat each other."

Anne complied obediently and eased her pussy over Barbara's mouth and with the same gentleness began licking and sucking this woman's pussy, parting her lips and entering deeply with her tongue, much to Barbra's Sapphic delight as a muffled moan could be heard.

For both women, this was a new experience. They frantically ate, sucked and licked, like long lost lovers. Paul and Eddie could see the delight of both women. Indeed, it made them both hard. Suddenly Anne felt hands grip her bare hips, but she was so absorbed in her love making that she refused to stop, even when Eddie's huge rod entered her arse and began to pound her hard. At the same time, Barbara could feel her legs being lifted and Paul drove his cock deep inside her, with the same ferocious pounding.

All four of them became consumed in their lust. Both Barbara and Anne climaxed together, making them scream with sheer ecstatic sexual joy. It was almost a shock to both them when hot cum exploded inside both of them almost at the same time. A huge cry of "Aaaargh" echoed the study as they all screamed in unison.

For a few moments they all remained still, catching their breath and recollecting their thoughts. Paul got up and spoke first.

"Eddie, you better see she gets back to her car," referring to Barbara Weston. "You'll do, Barbara dear. I can see you'll fit in here very nicely." He said this with a sarcastic grin. He turned to his **********.

"I'll talk to you later. Now get out of here."

Anne, with a dread of what was to come, fled naked up to her room, threw herself on the bed and wept.

When she had dressed in her work uniform Eddie drove Barbara to where her car was parked, just around the corner from her boutique. It was already daylight as she approached the car and she suddenly realised she had not slept for more than twenty hours. She was too tired to drive, so she went to the boutique fell soundly asleep in her office chair.

Her ******* was short lived however because a low voice called out to her

"Mrs. Weston, Mrs. Weston, are you ok?" As she slowly woke, the voice became louder and clearer. It was Debbie Morgan, her assistant.

"What? Oh Debbie. Yes, yes, I'm ok. Thank you."

"My God. I thought you were dead. What happened?"

Initially Barbara thought she had had a nightmare until she tried to move and felt sore and sticky. It had been far from being a nightmare. It had been real enough. Debbie in panic repeated her question.

"Oh Debbie. I can't tell you anything. You would be in great danger." With that she broke down in tears. Debbie offered her shoulder and tried to calm the distressed woman.

"Let me get you something."

"Just a coffee, please."

Debbie returned and Barbara slowly drank it down.

"You're some sort of trouble and those men who were here yesterday were part of it. My advice is to go to the police, Mrs. Weston."

"Oh Debbie, I would. Believe me I would but there is more at stake than you could ever imagine."

"Mrs. Weston, you look like you could do with some rest. Why don't you go home? I can handle things here."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course."

"You're a great help Debbie. Thank you. Oh and Debbie, please, not a word to the others."

"Sure."

When Barbara drove away, Debbie went back to the office and dialled a number.

"It's me. We may have a break," and replaced the receiver.

Barbara Weston drove up the drive to her secluded home. She observed her husband's car in its spot. George came towards her and wrapped his arms around her.

"Barbara love. I was worried sick."

Suddenly, exhaustion gave way to anger, as she pushed her husband away.

"Get your fucking hands off me, you lunatic. Have you any idea what I've been through? Well do you?" she yelled.

"Please Barbara. Let me explain."

"Explain? How do you explain gambling away our home and our lives?"

"Please Barbara, calm down."

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down. You're up to your neck in it. Well you're not doing to drag me down. I'm leaving," and ran upstairs to pack.

George followed her.

"Please Barbara. They won't let you go."

"They? Who are they?"

"Tierney and his mob. They won't let either of us go."

"Just watch me George."

Barbara headed down the stairs with the hurriedly packed suitcase and headed for her car. As she put the key into the lock a hand grabbed her and swung her around. It was Eddie, accompanied by another man. He marched her back into the house.

"Unhand my wife," cried George. He didn't get to say anything else because Eddie's companion, clearly the muscle, punched his stomach, making him keel over, gasping for breath.

"George!" screamed Barbara as she ran to her distressed husband.

"What the hell do you want? Haven't you done enough?"

"Let me make you clear on the rules, Mrs. Weston. The boss wants his money. You're going to get it for him. There'll be no running away. He owns you just as he owns this house."

He turned to George."You know Weston, it's a good job your wife has got a good body. Because that's all that's keeping you alive right now." He grinned.

"You bastard," screamed Barbara.

"Only by an accident of birth Mrs. Weston," he responded sarcastically.

"Whether or not you like it, you're both in this together. One drops out the other pays the ultimate penalty."

With that Eddie and his companion left and drove away down the drive, oblivious to the fact that two men in a parked car observed them leave. The senior of the two men, sitting in the passenger seat, was clearly in charge because he nodded to his companion and drove away.

Anne Carter Is "Punished"

Anne did not see Paul for several days. He was away on "business" in London. Her fear of punishment following her spying diminished with time. Indeed, she hoped he had forgotten about it. When Paul arrived back on Thursday, she was surprised when he presented her with a beautiful blue cocktail dress. He instructed her to wear it at a dinner he was hosting here at the mansion for nine of his friends. He also said it would please him if she wore a garter belt and stockings. Anne was so taken by Paul's "kindness" that it never occurred to her that this was simply a plan to punish her for her previous indiscretion.

The dinner was a strange affair for Anne. The first thing she observed was the fact she was the only female. The other thing was she felt she was being undressed by all of them. It made her uneasy. There was just general chatter at the meal, nothing out of the ordinary. When they were done, Paul suggested retiring to the library. Anne turned to head for her room when Paul stopped her.

"No. You come too," and they both entered the library together.

"Gee, boss. She's looking better than ever," laughed Teddy Gorman, Paul's head of security.

"She's even better underneath," came Paul's reply.

They all laughed.

Anne blushed in ***********.

"I thank you all for your loyal service and as I promised I intend to reward you all." He turned to Anne, "Strip."

"What?"

"Get your fucking clothes off and show them your body."

They all laughed.

So that was it. That's why she was here. She knew by now she couldn't defy him. Anne reluctantly put her hands to her back, unzipped her dress and let it slide down, revealing the low cut red lace bra and matching garter belt and thong.

"Wow. You're a lucky man boss," said George Henderson, one of his chief henchmen.

"Yes, I am, but tonight you're all going to share in that luck."

Grabbing Anne by her hair, he yelled venomously, "You'll learn never to spy on me again, you bitch," and ****** her to her knees."Now get down there and suck each one of their cocks, and remember, swallow every last drop."

The first was Frank Henderson. He drove his hardened rod deep inside her mouth and holding her head, systematically bobbed her in and out. At the same time, two others ****** her to give hand jobs. They, however, withdrew, not wishing to cum, except in her mouth. Anne sucked and sucked. Each one suck seemed longer than the previous one. Finally, she could feel Frank was on the verge of cumming. The eruption of cum was such that not only did it fill her mouth but she couldn't help but to spill some. Her head was arched back, making her swallow it all.

Because she had hand jobbed the rest, they were not long in cumming, but she was ****** to swallow everything and she felt sick. She was lying on the floor, tired, sore and weak hoping her ordeal was over. However she was carried to the long table and placed on her back. Her stocking covered legs were ****** apart and Anne felt a huge cock enter her pussy. It was Paul and he began to pound her mercilessly. To make things worse he drove on in sync with the others shouting and clapping "More, more, more," each one appeared to be louder than the next. Eventually, Paul's cum exploded inside Anne and he yelled "Aaargh." , in deep satisfaction.

"Wow boss. That was brilliant."

"It sure was," he replied breathlessly.

He turned to his exhausted ************* get the fuck out of here and let this be a lesson to you."

Anne got up and fled to her room. As she did so, she could hear the laughter from them all. Once again the humiliated woman wept bitterly on her bed.

The New "Recruit"

Twenty-seven year old Jenny Arnold was locking the door of her jewellery shop. Her mind was million miles away. It had been six months since both her parents had been killed in a horrific car accident. It was only after her ******* death that the fact that he had borrowed heavily from Paul Tierney to help her set up her business came to light. It was only then she became aware of the debt her ****** had left behind. Now she was ****** to pay an enormous sum every month. She had fallen behind in the payments because like most other shops in the town, her own was going through a slump. It was only a matter of time before she would receive a visit from Tierney's mob. It never occurred to her it would happen the way it did or that she would be subjected to the *********** that followed.

Just having locked the door, the young woman was grabbed by two men.

"Just relax sweetie, Mr. Coombs just wants to have a little chat."

'Eddie Coombs, Tierney's 'muscle', thought Jenny and shuddered.

She was ushered into the back of a black car. Coombs was sitting there.

"Hallo Miss Arnold."

"Look Mr. Coombs, business is a little slack. I promise, I will make it up as soon as things pick up."

"I'm afraid that's not good enough. The boss expects his money."

"I'm working as hard as I can..."

She was cut off.

"You'll have to work harder. Get a second job maybe?"

"Work is slack everywhere. I'd do anything to pay the money."

"You're not a bad looking woman, Jenny," and began to feel her medium breasts through her white blouse.

"Please. Don't do that," she whimpered.

"I thought you said you'd do anything?"

Jenny pursed her lips as he began to unbutton her blouse, exposing her lacy black bra with a front snap. He opened the front and her breasts sprang forth and her nipples hardened instantly with the cold air. He put his mouth to her right breast and began to suck and lick with brief intervals. Jenny just closed her eyes in disgust.

Then he put his hand up her skirt, tearing her black tights and rubbing her trimmed pussy. As his rubbing became more intense, coupled with his sucking and licking of her breasts, she could not resist a moan. "Oh God, no. Please, nooo." The last word was dragged out as she exhaled. Suddenly, everything stopped.

"You'll do."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you'll do nicely for the second job I have in mind. You've got a great body and I know clients who will pay handsomely to fuck you."

"Please. Don't make me do this."

"You don't have any choice. You haven't used your best 'assets' yet," he responded with a grin.

"What do you want?" asked Jenny in a subdued tone.

"The *** of one of the boss's friends is celebrating his twenty-first tomorrow night. You're the boss's present. Do it right and we'll consider this month's instalment paid. You'll be picked up after work." He opened the car door and Jenny got out. Realising she was a mess, she returned to the shop, tidied herself up and drove home to her flat, wondering just what was to come.

Jenny Goes To Work

The following night, being Friday, Jenny locked up just after nine. As she turned round the black Mercedes pulled beside her and the door was opened. She got in and Eddie Coombs was sitting there again.

"I'm not dressed for a party."

"Believe me, you're just what the boss wanted," responded Eddie with his usual snigger.

It was a quiet trip. They arrived at the hotel on Crompton's hill, just outside the town. The party was clearly in full swing. Eddie led Jenny upstairs to a suite.

"Wait here."

Jenny sat in the room in boredom for over an hour. Finally the door was opened and a young man, clearly the man of the party and Paul Tierney entered.

"Well Billy, here she is. Just as I promised. I'll leave you to her. Have a good night," he laughed left, closing the door behind him.

'He is handsome,' thought Jenny.

The attraction ended when he growled, "Well, what are you waiting for, you stupid bitch? Get your fucking clothes off. Let's see the goods."

She just wanted to cry but didn't. Slowly she unbuttoned her blouse. It wasn't quick enough, as the young man got impatient. He walked over and simply ripped it.

"Now get it off."

Tears came to her eyes as she removed the ripped garment and fearing he would get impatient again, quickly unzipped and dropped her skirt. Finally, she stood naked before him. She covered her breasts and pussy with her hands. She had never been naked in front of anyone, even her boyfriend. The young man suddenly struck her across her face.

"Put your hands down by your side," he yelled.

Jenny reluctantly obeyed. She felt humiliated. She could see he was studying her body, particularly her firm breasts and trimmed pussy. She could see too, that he had a huge hard on.

He suddenly pushed her onto the bed and threw himself on her, kissing her lips and then cruising down her nakedness with his tongue and lips, stopping only briefly to undress, garment by garment, piling them on the floor.

He resumed his licking and sucking, concentrating on her breasts and nipples. As much as she hated this bastard ravaging her, the tingling of her breasts aroused Jenny. He continued down her body and the tongue action on her pussy made her moan.

"Oh my God," she exhaled several times. She thought she was going to cum there and then but he withdrew his tongue and for a moment there was an anti climactic feeling. Then she felt his huge dick being pushed in. The gentle, stroking movement picked up pace with every stroke and eventually her own body began to match the pace. They were both soon lost in a world of sexual lust. Jenny simply could not resist it and the young man simply didn't care.

He pounded and pounded and Jenny actually enjoyed it. They both moaned loudly. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," the young man yelled excitedly.

"Oh God, come on. Come on," yelled Jenny, with equal excitement. Her love juices began to gather and she knew the young man was close to cumming. The heat of their bodies increased their excitement and eventually Jenny climaxed just as an eruption of cum in her pussy made them both gasp for air like it was their last.

Exhausted, they both fell asleep.

The brightness of the morning woke Jenny. The young man had wrapped himself around her. She gently eased him off and slipped out of the bed. She went to the bathroom and showered with extra vigour, as if trying to destroy the evidence of her ravishment. She quickly dressed and only then realised her blouse was totally ripped. She covered herself with her jacket and opening the room door stole out only to see Eddie outside.

"Well. He must have had a good time," he grinned. "We'll take you to your car."

When she got home, Jenny changed into casual clothes. She was too bewildered to go to work and sat there most of the day trying to make sense of what had occurred the previous night.

Anne Carter Gets A "Companion"

Two weeks after her *********** at the hands of Paul and his goons, Anne Carter made her way to the study, having being summoned by Paul. Upon entering the study she was surprised to see a young woman in her mid twenties dressed in a maid outfit.

"Ah, there you are. This is Sarah Mansfield, ******** of Lefty Mansfield. She's our new maid. She'll be company for you too. Show her around the house and instruct her as to your own wishes."

"It's not bad enough that you keep me prisoner? You have to spy on me too?"

"Just do as you're told."

"Come on then" and Sarah followed Anne out of the study, to the kitchen. There Anne instructed her on her various duties.

That night, for the first time in weeks, Anne found her stepson waiting for her in bed. She hated having to strip naked in front of him. Worst of all, she could feel the his lust by his simple stare. When she got under the sheets, Paul roughly pinned her down and without any foreplay, simply drilled his hardened penis deep inside her, pounding at will. When he finally came, Anne too climaxed, but it was not a joyous one.

"That was great," he said breathlessly and turned and slowly fell a*****. Anne in contrast, did not ***** at all and simply dreamt of somehow escaping.

Monday

Some weeks later, Paul was in London again but was expected back very soon. Anne was walking along the hall and was surprised to see the door to the study slightly open. She discreetly looked in and to her astonishment, saw Sarah going through the papers on Paul's desk. She slipped in and quietly closed the door.

"What the hell are you doing, Sarah?"

Sarah jumped."Oh, Ms. Carter. I can explain...."

At that moment Anne heard Paul and some others enter the doorway.

"My God, if he catches us in here, we're both dead. This way, quickly," and grabbed Sarah by the hand and pulled her to the door that led to the library. There, both women remained in an anxious and tense silence hoping nothing would be noticed. After a while Anne opened the door into to the hall and checked to see that the way was clear.

"Head back to the kitchen. I'll talk to you later."

Sarah did so and turned to Anne and gave a silent, "Thank you." Anne stole up the stairs to her own room.

That same day Barbara Weston was in her boutique. It had been several weeks since her **** and *********** at the hands of Paul Tierney. She could not get it out of her head. She couldn't go to the police about it. Instead she remained tense and moody. Try as she might, Debbie Morgan, her assistant could not get her to open up about it.

That afternoon Barbara received a phone call. She recognised Eddie's voice at once.

"You'll be picked up after work on Thursday. The boss has something special planned for you."

The receiver went down and Barbara held her head in despair.

"Oh, my God," she cried.

Her thoughts were broken by the sound of Debbie's voice.

"Is everything alright, Mrs. Weston?"

"What? Oh yes, thank you Debbie."

Tuesday

On Tuesday evening, Paul Tierney hosted a get together for his London contacts. "Sarah" handed around the ****** and food.

"Hey Paul, Who's the new bird?" asked Jimmy Hicks, one of Paul Tierney's oldest friends.

"Oh. She's Lefty Mansfield's ********," responded Paul.

When the party wound down, Hicks pulled Paul aside and spoke in a low voice.

"She's not Lefty's ********. His ******** died of an overdose last year."

"Are you sure?"

"I should know. Sarah Mansfield was my Godchild."

Paul nodded to one of his men and whispered something in his ear. The man nodded positively and left.

Later that evening, Paul was in his study with two of his thugs when there was a knock at the study door.

"Come in."

The door opened and Sarah walked in.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Tierney?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Sarah was startled by the question.

"I'm Sarah Mansfield," she stuttered.

Paul nodded.

One of the men grabbed her arms and the other punched her in the stomach twice, leaving her gasping for air. He ripped open her blouse and buttons flew wildly in every direction. He then ****** her bra apart, exposing her firm breasts. He began to lick and suck them.

Sarah closed her eyes in disgust.

He stopped and two more blows were delivered to her stomach and twice more she was struck across her face. Her nose began to *****.

"Too bad boss. Her tits taste nice."

"Not for long," replied Paul.

Sarah opened her eyes and saw Paul brandishing red hot iron rod in front of her.

"Please. No," she begged.

"Then tell me what I want to know."

She remained silent.

Paul pressed the iron to Sarah's naked breast with sadistic relish and she screamed with extreme pain.

In the meantime Anne Carter was in her room, unaware of "Sarah's" fate. When she heard the screams, Anne jumped.

'My God. That was Sarah,' she thought.

She ran downstairs. Again she heard Sarah scream. Anne hesitated at the door, remembering the last time she entered the study. Another scream however, strengthened her resolve and she pushed the doors open.

"Oh my God, Paul. What are you doing to Sarah?"

"She's not Sarah. She's working for the police or worse and I want to know what she knows. Now get out."

"For God sake. Tell him who you're working for," yelled Anne in panic.

Sarah couldn't or wouldn't speak.

"She's working for Harry Trenton's mob."

"What? How do you know?"

"If your guards were doing their job right they would have seen her talking to one of his cronies at the gate yesterday," responded Anne.

"Yeah. You're right. Security has been very lax. We'll have to review it. Get rid of her in the usual way."

A horrified Anne screamed,"Paul, think, if you **** her, you'll have a ********* on your hands. You can't afford that. If you keep her alive, Trenton will think his strategy is working."

Paul stroked his chin." You're right. She's more valuable alive. You're smarter than I thought. I'll have to keep my eye on you."

Anne turned to one of the men."Bring her up to her room."

He turned to Paul and he nodded.

"Get me hot water and clean sheets," yelled Anne to the second man. He too, turned to Paul and he again nodded.

When Sarah was placed on the bed, Anne turned to the man.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Get out and let her have some dignity."

"The boss said not to let her out of my sight."

"Look at her. Does she look like she's going anywhere? Now get out."

"T,- thank you. Ms. Carter," stammered Sarah in a weak and breathless voice.

Anne placed a cool damp cloth on her forehead to try and lower her temperature.

"I've only gotten us a temporary reprieve, Sarah or whatever your name is. Paul doesn't have his ******* brains but he's much more vicious and he'll stop at nothing to get what he wants."

"Yes, I know." Sarah struggled for breath.

"Please don't talk. Just rest."

"Please you've got help me."

"Help you? How?" asked Anne doubtfully.

Sarah tried to raise hand.

"Top drawer."

Anne went to the dresser and opened it. She found a folder of documents.

"Please. You've got to get them to Chief Inspector Burnham. Promise me."

"I promise," replied Anne, with tears rolling down her eyes, totally amazed at this young woman's heroism. So that's what she was. If Paul knew this, he wouldn't think twice about ****ing her.

The door handle turned and Anne crammed the documents inside her blouse as the man arrived with the water and towels. Anne stayed all night in Sarah's, trying to think of away to get the documents out of the house.

Wednesday

Chief Inspector Jack Burnham was sitting at his desk reading reports when a knock came to his office door.

"Come in."

It was Sergeant James Rawlings.

"Yes Sergeant?"

"Sir, its Constable Lombard. She hasn't been heard from for over forty eight hours now."

Oh my God. Anything at all?"

"No sir."

"Sir, we could raid the place."

"On what evidence Sergeant? Remember the last time we raided. We do any thing like that without evidence again and we'll all face a hanging. What's the name of the woman Sergeant Lyons spoke about?"

"Weston, sir. Mrs. Barbara Weston."

Chief Inspector Burnham sat alone brooding.

'Damn you, Tierney. If you've done anything to that girl it'll be your fatal error. I promise. I won't rest until I see you in jail,' he thought .

Thursday

Just after Barbara locked up, the black Mercedes pulled up in front of her. The door opened and she got in. Unknown to her or the occupants of the car, they were observed by Debbie Morgan from her car, parked in the side street around the corner. She dialled her mobile.

"It's me again. She's been picked up. Will follow at a distance and see where it leads," Debbie switched off and drove discreetly behind them.

After a while, it was apparent that they were not heading to the Tierney mansion as Barbara had anticipated and she started to panic.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked anxiously.

"Just relax, Mrs. Weston. You'll find out soon enough," responded the stranger.

A few minutes later, the Mercedes entered through the gates of the local soccer ground. Barbara could hear cheering and chanting as they did so.

"Well. You're just in time for the celebrations," a familiar voice said.

It was Eddie Coombs, the man in charge of Tierney's casino.

"What celebrations?"

"The boss's team won the cup and he promised the team a special bonus," leading Barbara to the changing room where most of the team were naked or wrapped in towels.

"Well boys, the boss promised you a bonus for winning and here she is."

Barbara was pushed towards the cheering men and they began to strip her violently. Her protesting screams were drowned by the men cheering or singing. She was carried naked to the showers and made to stand. The jets of steamy water descended on her as she felt a huge cock being ****** up through the orifice of her arse and another drove deep inside her pussy. Multiple hands covered her naked body and she felt both her breasts being enthusiastically sucked. Both her nipples were tingling as tongues wrapped around them.

As soon as cum exploded in both her pussy and arse, cocks were withdrawn and two more replaced them. Her breasts too received new mouths that continued sucking and licking. Her screams were still drowned out by the cheers as each of the team came inside her. Barbara finally realised she was "servicing" the entire team, including the four substitutes. When all fifteen men had spent their loads, Barbara lay on the floor, exhausted and hoping her ordeal was over.

Eddie came up to her.

"Come on babe. You're only half done."

He dragged Barbara to the other dressing room, where the opposing team were.

"The boss has asked me to thank you for a great game and as a sign of no hard feelings he asked me to present you with a little consolation prize. She's pretty sore and can't fuck you all but she sure can suck," and Eddie threw her to the floor.

They all laughed.

"So who's first?"

"Me," yelled the tallest one and grabbed Barbara Weston by the hair.

"No. Please," she begged. But to no avail as a huge, hardened cock was driven deep into her mouth and down her throat. She thought she would *****. She was made suck all fifteen cocks. By now she was sick as well as exhausted.

When she retrieved her clothes, she found everything but her overcoat in shreds.

"I can't wear these."

"Well. We can't send you home naked, can we?" replied Eddie, with a grin."Now, there's a thought," and he stroked his chin,"Nah. You've been a good bitch. Let's see if Ms. Carter can help you out."

"Who?"

"The boss's other half. You fucked each other a few weeks ago."

'So that's who she was,' thought Barbara, 'A little old for him,' not realising Anne Carter was also Paul Tierney's sex slave **********.

Barbara got into the Mercedes with Eddie, wearing nothing but her shoes and grey overcoat as they headed once again for the Tierney mansion.

Upon arrival Eddie got out and led Barbara into the hall. Anne Carter was standing on top of the stairway.

"Ah, Ms. Carter. This lady had an accident with her clothes and wondered if she could borrow something from you," said Eddie with a sarcastic grin.

Anne couldn't believe her luck, but she knew she had to think and act fast.

"Well come up to my room. I'm sure I have something that fits you."

When both women were in the room, Anne closed the door and whispered,"Look, I don't have time to explain this but I need your help."

Anne handed her some underwear as well as a skirt and blouse.

"What do you mean?"

"There is a young woman next door, badly beaten. I'm sure she's from the police. If my stepson finds out he'll **** her for sure."

"What can I do?"

"Please, take these and give them to Chief Inspector Burnham," and she stuffed them into the inside pocket of Barbara's overcoat. The door knob to the room turned and Anne grabbed Barbara by her head and kissed her passionately. Anne's eyes turned towards the door and Eddie stuck his head in. Anne Carter broke the kiss.

"What the fuck do you want? Don't you believe in knocking?"

"Oh sorry, Ms. Carter. But the boss wants to see the lady," he said in a genuinely embarrassed tone.

"Well, let her get some clothes on first, now get out."

When Barbara was dressed and was about to leave, Anne turned her around and put her hands up in a begging manner and pleaded silently.

Paul Tierney was sitting at his desk in his study just as he was the first night Barbara had met him.

"Well, Barbara dear, I heard you had a great time."

"I'd hardly call it that, Mr. Tierney. What do you want?"

"Now, now, Barbara. Remember, you and your precious husband owe me quite a bit."

"Please Mr. Tierney, I told you, we'll pay it back."

"Oh you'll pay it back alright. Now drop your knickers."

"Please, Mr. Tierney?"

A look of anger flashed across his face. It made Barbara shudder. She put her hands under her skirt and slipped them down.

Tierney put his hand out and she handed them to him. He sniffed them.

"They smell familiar," he said, with a sarcastic grin.

He got up from behind his desk and pushed her onto the sofa.

Barbara was terrified the papers in her coat would be discovered.

"Something about you makes me very horny," and he simply undid his pants, mounted her and drove his hardened dick deep within her. Once again, the rhythm was slow but gradually built up pace. Despite her earlier ordeal at the soccer grounds, Barbara found her own body was reacting to his pounding. Her love juices started to build and she could feel that Tierney was close to cumming to. They both began to gasp for breath and Barbara held Tierney as if her life depended on it.

Eventually both exploded in climax and screamed in sexual exhilaration. Tierney turned to Barbara and spoke breathlessly.

"Well Barbara, I said it before, you're a great fuck," and he pulled up his pants,"Oh. I almost forgot why I called you here. I'm giving a party for a friend of mine tomorrow night. Eddie will pick you up at eight after work."

He said no more and Eddie signalled her to follow him to the car. They drove to the car park and Barbara, humiliated and exhausted got out to head for her car.

"See you tomorrow night, then," said Eddie with his now familiar grin and the Mercedes headed off. Barbara got into her own car and drove towards home. She pulled into a lay by along the way and examined the documents. There was a note attached.

"Who ever you are, I beg you, take these papers to the police. I am a prisoner here and the young woman I am trying to save, I'm sure, is from the police. Both our lives depend on you.

Anne Carter.

Barbara Weston at once turned her car around and drove to the police station, determined to see Chief Inspector Burnham. She arrived at the station and at the front desk asked to speak with Inspector Burnham. A man in his early thirties, wearing a smart suit came out.

I'm sorry, madam, but the Inspector is gone home. I'm Sergeant Rawlings, his assistant, can I help you?"

Barbara spoke in an anxious tone.

"Look Sergeant, I was given these papers tonight by a very frightened woman. She begged me to give them to Inspector Burnham." With that she placed the bulky envelope on the desk. The young man examined the contents of the envelope.

"My God. Where did you get these?" he asked in utter amazement.

"A woman at the Tierney mansion. I believe she is Tierney's **********."

"You better come this way miss?"

"Mrs. Barbara Weston."

It was then the penny dropped for Sergeant Rawlings. 'Of course,' thought Rawlings 'Debbie Lyons' link.'

He led Barbara to a small office.

"Please sit down. Some tea?"

Barbara nodded and he asked the young police woman to bring two. He dialled a number on the phone.

"Hallo, Chief Inspector? I'm sorry to ring you sir but it's about the Tierney case sir. Some evidence has turned up. I think you'll want to see this sir. I think we've got the bastard." He spoke like an excited schoolboy. Rawlings put the phone down.

"He's on his way."

A half an hour later, Chief Inspector Burnham was poring through the documents brought by Barbara Weston.

"My God, Rawlings, look at these names. Heads are going to roll. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes sir. It did occur to me."

Inspector Burnham and Rawlings rejoined Barbara in the office.

"I apologise for taking so long, Mrs. Weston, but these documents will put Tierney away for a long time. We owe you a debt of gratitude."

"All I did was smuggle them out, Inspector. The real heroes are those two women who are still at the mansion and they are in great danger. What happens now?"

"I've applied for permission to raid. We'll do it tomorrow night."

"Tierney is a vicious killer, Inspector. He'll think nothing of killing those two women as soon as you strike."

"I know," conceded the Inspector. "But I don't see what alternative we have."

"Inspector, He's giving some sort of party for his mafia mob tomorrow night. He expects me to be there. If I can slip away, I can warn them both and signal you by text message when to strike."

"Do you realise what you're saying Mrs. Weston? What danger you're putting yourself into?"

"I'm not a brave woman, Inspector. But that bastard has nearly ruined my marriage and my life. Please, give me a chance to do something to get even?"

Burnham looked at Rawlings and the latter shrugged his shoulders.

"It could be Lombard's only chance, sir."

A reluctant Inspector Burnham stroked his face. "I don't like it. One of my officers is already in danger as well as a civilian. It doesn't seem right to ask you to do this."

"I'm the one doing the asking. Please, you've got to let me do this?"

"Ok, Mrs. Weston, but if this goes wrong, God help us all."

The plans were agreed. When she was picked up at the boutique, Barbara would be discreetly followed and the raiding party would be strategically placed near the grounds of the Tierney residence, waiting for the signal to strike.

Friday

Jenny was tired. It had been a long day in the shop. She turned, having locked the door to see two men standing there. They manhandled her into a waiting blue car. "Just relax and enjoy the ride."

They arrived at the Tierney mansion and another man led her to a room.

"Get your clothes off and put this on."

"But it's just an apron."

"Do as your fucking told, unless you want the boss to know you weren't cooperating?"

Jenny reluctantly undressed and donned the apron. The curves of her breasts were exposed as were her bare arse cheeks. There was also a pair of black high heels.

"The boss want's you to serve the ******. No sex tonight," grinned the man. For the rest of the evening, a humiliated Jenny served the ****** and had to contend with being pinched, slapped and fondled. She battled the temtation to cry and just prayed it would soon be over, unaware of the events to come.

Just as Barbara closed up at nine that night, the now familiar black Mercedes pulled up in front of her. Eddie Coombs was in the back. He opened the door and she got in. The short drive to the mansion was in silence and uneventful. Barbara could hear the sounds of people chattering and laughing and soft music being played. When they arrived at the front door Eddie opened the door and they both got out.

"I'm not dressed for a party," said Barbara, seeing everyone in dinner attire.

"You're dressed just right. Besides, you won't be at the dinner proper. You have other 'duties' to perform." Eddie gave his usual sarcastic grin. He led Barbara to one of the upstairs bedrooms. "Wait here."

A few moments later the door opened and a small overweight man entered the room. He came over to Barbara and sniffed. "You smell nice anyway."

He reeked of *******. Barbara could smell it from him.

"Well, we haven't all night. Get your clothes off," and with that he undressed in a disorganised manner. At the same time, Barbara reluctantly undressed and in contrast to her 'client' folded everything neatly out of habit. She got onto the bed and then her bull of a client, reeking of *******, climbed on top of her and drove his huge dick deep inside her. He pounded her for what seemed ages. In contrast to her previous experiences, Barbara felt nothing but a desire that this would end. Not even her body reacted.

Eventually, he came inside her, exhaling a large moan. As for Barbara, it was merely a moan of relief. Shortly after he stopped, the man fell into a deep *****. When she felt confident enough, Barbara pushed his bulky frame from her and easing herself out of the bed, dressed as quickly as possible. She slowly opened the room door and stole out and walked along the corridor, trying to find where Anne Carter and the police officer were.

She suddenly heard a familiar voice coming from a room. It was Anne Carter. "Please, Sarah. You've got to hang on. Please," she begged.

At that moment, Barbara heard another familiar voice calling her. It was Eddie Coombs. "What are you doing there?" he yelled.

Barbara opened the door and ran in, slamming it behind her as Eddie rushed to stop her.

"Help me, quickly," yelled Barbara as she tried to push the heavy dresser up to the door. They both pushed and heaved and just got it to the door as Eddie started banging.

"Open this fucking door," he repeated, banging as he did so.

"Get down. All hell is about to break loose," and as she said this, reached for her phone, concealed in her bag and sent the agreed signal.

Chief Inspector Burnham sat impatiently in his car. Suddenly his phone beeped.

"Secure" flashed up. The Inspector didn't waste a second.

"All units, Go, go, go."

The motorcade of blue light flashing vehicles drove through the gate of the Tierney residence. Most of the guards simply fled at the sight, hoping to evade capture. One large van was backed carefully up to the door of the mansion. The doors of this van were flung open and a squad of about a dozen armed officers leapt out. A small battering ram was used to ***** the door and the officers charged in.

"Police. Nobody move," yelled one of them.

Burnham came into the hall. He turned to a female member of the raiding party.

"Follow me Sergeant."

The young woman, weapon in hand, did so as they climbed the stairs. Reaching the corridor, Burnham called out to Eddie.

"You're under arrest Coombs."

Eddie simply gave his trademark sinister smile and produced a gun from his pocket.

"Drop it Coombs."

Eddie was about to squeeze the trigger when a shot rang out and he flew back and crashed to the floor, nursing his shoulder. Burnham knocked at the door.

"Who is it?" Barbara shouted.

"The cleaning crew. Open up."

Barbara nodded to Anne and they once again heave and pushed the dresser in the opposite direction and opened the door. Burnham, Rawlings and the young female police officer made their way in.

Thank God, you're both alright," said Burnham.

I'm afraid Sarah is not so good. She has some sort of infection," responded Anne.

"Get the ambulance people up here. Now!"

Burnham knelt beside the bed.

"My dear girl. What has he done to you?"

"She keeps calling for Jimmy."

"That's her four year old ***," responded the Inspector.

"Oh God," cried Anne.

The ambulance crew gently lifted her onto the stretcher and swiftly carried her away.

"It's good to see you're ok, Mrs. Weston," came a familiar female voice.

Barbara turned around and the young officer, dressed in armour, with gun in hand was facing her. Only when this young woman smiled did Barbara recognise who it was.

"D-Debbie?" and suddenly, everything went black.

When she came round, Anne Carter was kneeling at one side and Debbie, minus her helmet and weapon on the other.

"Debbie. You're a police officer?"

"I'm sorry to deceive you, Mrs. Weston but..."

She was interrupted by Burnham.

"Debbie was acting under my direct orders, Mrs. Weston. It would have put you in danger and jeopardised the whole operation. Let me properly introduce you. Mrs. Weston, this is Detective Sergeant Debbie Lyons."

"Detective Sergeant?"

"I'm afraid so, Mrs. Weston," smiled Debbie.

"I'm going to get a new assistant, aren't I?"

"Oh, I think we can work something out there," responded Debbie as she looked at Anne Carter.

"Sir? If it's alright with you, I'll take Mrs. Weston home."

"Yes of course. Oh and Sergeant?"

"Yes sir?"

"Thank you."

"You're more than welcome sir," responded Debbie with a smile.

Barbara turned to Anne.

"Where will you go?"

"Oh. I'll find somewhere."

Barbara put her hand in hers. "Come home with me. We have some unfinished business."

As they were about to leave, another familiar female voice caught Barbara's attention. It was Jenny Arnold, protesting her innocence, while being led away, handcuffed, by a police officer.

"Look Debbie. That's young Jenny from the jewellers."

Debbie walked over to her.

"It's ok Bob. You can release her. We know who she is."

"Ok, Sarge."

"Mrs. Weston, Debbie. What are you doing here?"

"It's a long story Jenny, You're probably here for the same reason I am, and Debbie is, as you can see, a police officer."

"Let's get you all home," said Debbie and led them all to her car. "I don't have to tell you that we need all your statements. The sooner the better while it's fresh in your minds. Right now you can all do with some rest." They all nodded.

Burnham went downstairs. Tierney was being led, handcuffed from the large dining area. "You'll regret this Burnham. I've got friends..."

"You haven't a friend in the world, Tierney. Your 'friends.' are all 'retired.' Take him away. Oh, and Sergeant, read him his rights."

"With pleasure sir," grinned Rawlings.

It was after midnight when Barbara and Anne arrived at the Weston's home. When they entered, George was pacing up and down in the hall. Seeing Barbara, he ran to his wife and embraced her passionately.

"Oh my dear woman, I was worried sick."

Barbara returned the embrace and kissed her husband passionately.

Anne turned to leave. Barbara stopped her.

"George, this is Anne Carter. She's staying here for a bit."

George put out his hand.

"Hallo Anne, and welcome."

Barbara recounted to George all that had occurred.

"Oh Barbara. I'm so, so sorry," cried George.

Barbara held her husband. "It's alright George. It's all over now. Why don't you go to bed? I'll show Anne to her room and I'll join you later."

George nodded and headed upstairs. A few moments later, Barbara led Anne to the spare bedroom. She suddenly turned round and catching Anne, she kissed her passionately.

"I just had to do that."

Anne responded with an equally passionate kiss and both women undressed each other in a frenzy of lesbian lust. For both naked beauties, it was the first time they had experienced true lesbian love. Both their bodies responded to each other's gentle touch. Barbara, after a few moments, gathered her breath.

"Well? What about it? Will you be my new assistant and lover?"

"Yes," responded Anne in a long breathless tone and kissed her new found lover.

Barbara got up and dressed. "***** well, lover. We have things to discuss and arrange tomorrow," and blew her a kiss before she left.

Anne Carter rested on the bed felt a free woman for the first time in years. Barbara and George made love is if it were their first time. It didn't take George long to realise that there was more to Barbara and Anne's relationship. He remained silent. 'After all, he argued to himself. I owe my wife big time for what I had put her through and our own love life has picked, so why should I complain?'

Amélie piégée


J'aimerai écrire une histoire à quatre mains. Avec un homme ou une femme. Peu importe l'essentiel c'est que nous partagions les mêmes fantasmes et le même plaisir dans l'écriture.
Vous pouvez aussi me laisser vos commentaires. Voici déjà une histoire...

Marc était maintenant sûr de gagner *** pari avec Raphaël. Non seulement il allait empocher 100 euros, mais en plus il allait bien s'amuser avec elle. Elle est si naïve.

Amélie se retrouve avec *** amant sous la douche. Sous le jet délicieux, Marc la frôle, l'effleure, puis l'enlace. Qu'il est puissant! Elle a l'impression d'être un jouet, une poupée malléable. A un moment, *** amant la mord, laissant sa marque dans *** cou. Comment va-t-elle justifier ça à *** mari? Les remords reviennent. Elle trompe Paul et qui plus est avec cet homme qu'elle connaît à peine. Et pourtant, elle s'est donnée à lui si facilement. Si entièrement. C'était il y a deux nuits. Et maintenant elle est de nouveau chez Marc. Un simple coup de fil et elle a accouru. N'avait-elle pas eu tord. Et cet autre type, dans la chambre à côté. Ce Raphaël. Pourquoi Marc ne lui a t'il pas demandé de déguerpir quand elle est arrivée? Amélie avait pourtant bien montré sa déception en découvrant cet homme dans le salon alors qu'elle s'attendait à être seule avec *** amant. Mais Marc n'avait-il pas arboré un sourire moqueur en accueillant Amélie? « On t'attendait avec impatience, ma chérie ». A quoi jouait-il donc? On aurait dit qu'il le faisait exprès! Méfiante elle s'était dirigée vers une chaise, histoire d'être le plus loin possible des deux hommes assis sur le canapé. Mais Marc l'avait surprise et en lui agrippant le bras au passage, il l'avait attirée à lui. « Allez fais pas ta boudeuse ». Elle détestait qu'il lui parle ainsi. Mais, elle s'était retrouvée malgré elle sur les genoux de *** homme, avec l'autre sale type qui n'arrêtait pas de reluquer ses seins et ses cuisses. Et Marc insidieusement tirait constamment *** bassin en arrière jusqu'à ce qu'elle finisse par se retrouver pratiquement assise sur le membre de *** amant. Elle était d'autant mal à l'aise, que chaque fois qu'elle prononçait une phrase, ils en profitaient pour faire des allusions graveleuses. Jusqu'au dérapage! Amélie avait eu le malheur de faire remarquer qu'il faisait chaud dans la pièce et Marc l'avait enserrée entre ses bras encore plus intimement et en ricanant avait lâché: « C'est toi qui est toute chaude ma puce ». Il avait alors posé sa main ample et large sur la cuisse nue d'Amélie. A ce contact, elle s'était cabrée, cuisses serrées. Mais Marc n'enlevait pas sa main et l'autre type qui bavait de plus en plus sur le haut de sa jupe avait rajouté d'une voix mielleuse: « Faut dire que c'est l'époque des grosses chaleurs... ». Elle était abasourdie de tant de vulgarité. Surtout que Marc avait réenchérit: « Et des très grosses envies. Un mec ne devrait pas suffire pour calmer un aussi gros besoin. Mais je suis sûr que tu ne demandes pas mieux, Raphaël, de me donner un coup de main ». « Pas qu'un coup de main!, s'était esclaffé l'autre grossièrement. Mais un sacré bon coup, ça oui!! ». Outrée, Amélie s'était arrachée de l'étreinte de Marc et levée d'un bond. Marc avec un regard rieur insupportable lui avait pris doucement la main: « Allez Amélie, on rigole! ». « C'est pas drôle du tout », avait rétorqué la jeune femme furieuse. Mais alors pourquoi n'était-elle pas partie en claquant la porte? Parce que Marc caressait tendrement sa main en la regardant avec ses magnifiques yeux? : « Allez ma puce tu ne vas pas tout gâcher? ! ». Bien sûr qu'elle ne voulait pas le perdre. Il était si beau. Mais elle devait aussi lui montrer qu'elle avait du caractère, qu'elle ne se laissait pas traiter ainsi. Alors, elle avait froidement tourné les talons et fièrement était venue s'enfermer dans la salle de bain. Elle lui avait montré qu'elle avait de la volonté et du caractère, qu'elle n'avait rien à voir avec les filles faciles qu'il devait mettre dans *** lit! Mais une fois seule dans la salle de bain, Amélie s'était sentie comme prise au piège. Elle s'était assise sur le rebord de la baignoire espérant de tout *** cœur que Marc se manifeste rapidement. Les secondes s'écoulaient. Le doute grandissait dans *** esprit. N'était-elle pas stupide de se comporter ainsi? Et si *** amant la laissait poireauter pendant des heures? Peut-être s'était-il même complètement désintéressé d'elle? N'entendait-elle pas des rires étouffés dans la pièce où étaient restés les deux hommes?

Marc, lui, s'amusait de la situation. Il connaissait ce genre de petite poule. Il savait qu'elle était à sa merci. Il s'était donné dix minutes pour bien la faire mariner dans *** jus. Il en avait profité pour, à voix basse, assurer à Raphaël qu'il pouvait déjà préparer les 100 euros. L'autre doutait. Mais Marc lui avait dit: « Fais-moi confiance dans 10 minutes tu fourres ta bite dans la chatte de cette jolie salope. Je vais aller la voir, la baratiner et quand elle sera prête, je te ferai signe. Je dirai di***s... Di***s : « écartes encore un peu les cuisses ma salope ». Ce sera le code pour toi. Tu pourras alors venir nous rejoindre pour tirer ton coup. Compris ? ». Raphaël n'était vraiment pas Einstein, mais ce genre de consigne, il comprenait parfaitement.

Marc s'était alors tranquillement levé et avait tapé à la porte de la salle de bain. Il l'avait facilement amadouée. « Amélie ouvres-moi. Il faut ne pas prendre au premier degré des blagues de mecs. Tu sais à quel point tu comptes pour moi. Allez Amélie, je m'excuse. S'il te plaît ouvre ». Elle n'avait pas mis plus de deux minutes à céder. Elle avait alors essayé d'être clair : elle ne supportait pas ce genre d'attitude. Il l'avait attirée dans ses bras tendrement et en la cajolant: « Tu es si belle, ma chérie. Si désirable ». Il était tellement tendre. Comment ne pas fondre ? Marc continuait: « Tu ne peux pas m'empêcher d'être fier que tu sois aussi désirable. Tu pourrais te faire baiser par tous les mecs que tu veux et c'est moi que tu as choisi ». Elle n'aimait pas quand il s'exprimait ainsi. Elle le lui dit sèchement: « Arrêtes Marc! ». Il devait comprendre qu'avec elle ça ne fonctionnerait pas du tout comme ça! Mais il avait poursuivi de manière encore plus explicite: « Tous les mecs ne rêvent que d'une chose: c'est de te baiser. Et je veux que tu en prenne pleinement conscience ». Elle avait beau afficher, avec ses grands yeux courroucés, ses sourcils froncés et ses grimaces offusquées, un profond désaccord d'entendre de tels propos, il continuait: « Tu es faites pour l'amour et tu le sais. Et si tu ne le sais pas, je vais te le prouver ». Il avait fait glisser le chemisier sur ses épaules graciles: « Tu as un corps de rêve, ma chérie. Que tu es belle! Comme j'ai envie de toi! Tu me rends fou ». Comment ne pas être flattée? Comment ne pas se laisser déshabiller, mettre à nue, puis entraîner sous la douche? Et maintenant, Marc était dans *** dos, l'enserrant tendrement. Au fond qu'importe l'autre type dans la chambre. Qu'importe *** mari et la culpabilité d'être infidèle. Elle est avec *** amant. Elle l'aime. Ils s'aiment! Elle veut en profiter. Elle écrase *** dos contre le large torse du mâle et se cambre au maximum. Amélie sent le membre contre ses fesses, constate avec satisfaction qu'il est dur pour elle. Il se plaque un peu plus massant à pleines mains les seins avec un gel moussant. Des ondes de plaisir irradient de ses mamelles, se répandent dans toute sa chair. Elle accentue la pression de *** derrière contre le sexe, elle ondule du bassin, roule de la croupe et frotte ainsi l'engin contre la partie la plus charnue de *** être. Il encastre *** braquemart entre les fesses et le fait glisser le long de la rainure. La raie de la jeune femme s'écarte. Elle sent bien qu'il insiste plus particulièrement contre *** anus et qu'il frotte et pousse *** gland contre *** petit anneau. Comment pourrait-elle recevoir une chose aussi grosse à cet endroit? C'est impensable! Elle sait que certaines femmes le font et paraît-il y prennent du plaisir. Mais, elle ne pourra jamais. Elle est trop étroite, il est trop gros. Il semble lire dans ses pensées, car il lui dit : "N'ai pas peur ma puce. Je ne vais pas te sodomiser. Pas aujourd'hui en tout cas. Mais je t'apprendrai à aimer ça. Dès la prochaine fois promis". Elle frémit en entendant ces mots. Elle sait ce qui l'attend à leur prochain rendez-vous. Mais pour l'instant, elle est rassurée: elle peut en toute confiance lui tendre ses fesses et les frotter contre *** engin, il n'essayera pas de la sodomiser. La hampe complètement bandée s'écrase de tout *** long contre *** derrière généreux, les bourses de l'homme frotte contre la chair rebondie. Il l'enlace, la main droite massant de plus en plus fermement les seins opulents de la jeune femme, jouant avec les tétons dressés et électrisés par le plaisir alors que la main gauche descend vers la fente, que l'index appuie sur le clitoris et entame un délicieux mouvement de rotation. C'est trop bonnnnnnn... Elle ferme un instant les yeux et en écartant les cuisses commence à gémir d'aise. Elle s'ouvre à Marc qui tout en titillant le clito avec le pouce, masse avec ses autres doigts les lèvres de la fente et à mesure que la corolle se dilate, il pousse *** indexe entre les nymphes. Le vagin avale le doigt et l'homme commence à aller et venir dans les parois de plus en plus détrempées. Il est déjà temps d'enfiler un deuxième doigt. Amélie se cambre en se pâmant. Les caresses de *** amant ***t trop délicieuses.
Marc a maintenant fait glisser sa hampe entre la fourche de la jeune femme et elle se retrouve à califourchon sur la barre de chair. Il extirpe *** doigt dégoulinant de cyprine et appuie sur les reins d'Amélie.

« Penches toi en avant ma salope ».
Elle accepte l'insulte. Ce n'est plus une insulte, mais l'expression du désir de *** homme. Elle obéit en posant ses mains à plat contre le mur de la douche. Il agrippe la taille de guêpe et frotte avec de ample et lent mouvement copulatoire *** engin contre le vagin imbibé de mouille. Il la sent s'ouvrir. Il lui donne une petite tape sur la croupe pour qu'elle se penche un peu plus en avant et qu'il puisse un peu plus profité du spectacle de *** derrière épanoui. Il pose ses mains larges sur chaque globe de chair et masse la peau si douce, tiède et élastique, il rapproche progressivement les pouce de chaque côté de la rainure des fesses et tour à tour, écarte, étire, puis comprime délicatement le sillon et il accentue ses va et vient veillant bien à ce que *** gland vienne à chaque fois pousser contre le capuchon du clitoris. Amélie émet des gémissements de plus en plus aiguës, caractéristiques de la pâmoi***s féminine. Elle va atteindre le point de non retour. Elle a tellement envie maintenant de sentir le membre pénétrer en elle. *** amant en est conscient puisqu'il lui ordonne : « Ecartes encore un peu plus les cuisses ma salope ». Elle obtempère en frémissant d'impatience. Mais *** instinct de femme lui dicte de ne pas totalement s'abandonner. Un bruit dans la salle de bain ? Elle ouvre les yeux. Stupéfaction. Raphaël est là devant eux, aussi nu qu'eux. Il regarde le couple tenant *** engin dans la main. Elle pousse un cri! Veut se dégager de l'étreinte de *** amant. Elle se redresse en serrant les jambes. Mais l'engin de *** amant reste empri***né entre ses cuisses serrées. Marc tranquillement réaffirme sa prise la plaque sans violence mais encore plus fermement contre lui. Elle sent la hampe plaquée contre les lèvres de *** vagin. Marc ainsi enserré peut à peine remuer sa queue. A peine, imperceptiblement. C'est une ******* pour Amélie:
« Marccc Arrêteeessss ». Elle voudrait que sa voix soit autoritaire et non aussi suppliante.
Mais les mains amples et puissantes de *** amant tiennent ses hanches et lui impulsent un insoutenable mouvement de va et vient. La voix de Marc à ses oreilles est si douce si pénétrante.
« Chutee ma chérie. Chuteeee. Laisses toi faire. Fais moi confiance ».
Elle doit se dérober!! Elle ne peut admettre d'être exposée ainsi devant cet inconnu. Elle essaie de se cabrer encore.
« Marc... nonnnnnnnnn... lâche moiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii !!!! » Elle doit mordre ses lèvres pour ne pas gémir. « Paiiiiii... passss... pas devant luiiiiii »
Au plus elle remue *** bassin pour se dégager au plus lui accompagne les mouvements désordonnés pour accentuer les frottements de la queue contre la fente.
« Chutteee ma toute douce. Il veut juste te regarder. Tu es si magnifique ».
Raphaël s'est encore approché. Elle entend sa respiration saccadée.
« Regarde comme il te trouve belle! ».
Elle sent cette masse noire, virile, toujours plus proche. Elle est cernée de toute part, sous l'emprise d'un homme, sous le regard d'un autre.
« Regarde dans ses yeux comme tu es désirable »
Malgré elle, Amélie croise le regard de Raphaël. Des yeux brûlant de concupiscence. Comment ignorer qu'elle est la cause du feu qui est en train d'embraser l'esprit de ce mâle en rut... De ces deux mâles en rut!
« Marc nonnnnnnnnnnnn ». Mais elle lâche prise. Malgré elle, ses cuisses s'écartent.
Et Marc gagne du terrain, sa hampe frotte, frotte, frotte, contre la vulve détrempée. Et il continue sa litanie:
« Il veut juste te regarder, juste t'admirer jouir. Tellement que tu es belle. Tu es si magnifique mon amour. Tu es l'amour »
Il appuie sur les reins de la jeune femme pour qu'elle se penche à nouveau. Elle doit résister: « Nonnn Marc, je ne veux paaaaaas !!! ». Elle se met à parler à toute vitesse en geignant : « Jeee... Je ne ferai... jamais ça c'est impossible. Jaamaisss. C'est... çaaaaa... c'estt no...NNN... C'ESTTTT... ». Marc a posé sa main sur la vulve de la jeune femme et avec *** index, il tourne autour du bouton de jouissance. La voix d'Amélie se fait de plus en plus saccadée : « C'est... tee... tree... troppppp... dégoutANTTTT... Et puis... il... jeEEEe... MaAAAaaarc... il... ILLllleee... ». Sa voix se fait de plus en plus haletante, gémissante : « Jjee... jehhejjj... MaRRRrc... c'esttt dégOOutteee...anteeiiiiHHHh... ». Sa voix se fait de plus en plus suppliante et aigüe : « JeEEEEee... jeEEEeee... c'eSSSeeettt... C 'EST TROPPPPP, OOHHHooooo... » Il la branle de plus en plus énergiquement et avec sa queue continue inlassablement le mouvement de va et vient contre la fente devenue béante. Elle plie : « Marciiiiiiiiuuuuoooo... AAAAArrrrr... Arrrrrêtttteeeeeee...». Ca y est, elle s'est penchée en avant. Alors, tout en en faisant un signe complice à Raphaël, Marc pousse sa bite dans le con. « Lààà ma puce, tout doux. Tout doux! Comme çaaa. Lààà, ouiii, tu es bonne ma puce ». Ça glisse si facilement en elle! Les va et vient toujours plus précis, toujours plus profond, massent l'endroit de la grotte le plus sensible à la jouissance. Elle ne peut résister. Il fait ça si bien. C'est trop bon. Du fond de sa gorge monte des râles de femelle obscène, elle s'abandonne au plaisir qui l'envahit.
— Làà ma belle, c'est bien ! Tu es magnifique ma puce. Prends la queue de Raphaël dans ta jolie petite quenotte. Allez! Branle-le, sinon il va devenir fou à te regarder jouir sans pouvoir en profiter.
Cette fois, elle doit refuser! Ça va trop loin! Elle tourne *** visage d'ange vers *** amant, la finesse et la pureté de ses traits comme tout dernier argument pour ne pas se prêter à cet acte ignominieux. Mais, derrière la douceur de *** expression presque enfantine transparaît de manière aveuglante la vérité de la femme en chaleur. Elle comprend sur le champ que sa rébellion est stupide. Elle est vaincue. D'autant plus que *** amant, mécontent de sa réaction, vient de cesser les merveilleuses ondulations dans *** vagin. Il fait même mine de se retirer. Elle en a trop besoin. Elle en veut tellement encore. Alors Amélie se saisit prestement de l'épais et long sexe du noir et l'agite de plus en plus vigoureusement à mesure que *** amant, qui l'encourage de la voix, accentue le rythme de ces coups de reins. Amélie n'est bientôt plus qu'un ****** réclamant la saillie, pour offrir un peu plus sa vulve à la copulation, elle se plie un peu plus en avant, une main posée contre le mur de la douche, l'autre serrant plus fortement le sexe du noir. La poigne de la jeune femme est comme un étau sur le membre de Raphaël et ce dernier peut imaginer ce que cette chienne ressent dans *** ventre, à quel point elle doit être prise et remplie par la bite. Et s'il n'a pas assez d'imagination, il lui suffit de regarder le braquemard impressionnant s'extirper presque entièrement pour mieux pousser et s'engloutir jusqu'à la garde dans les parois étroites du vagin. Il entend les cognements du pubis de *** pote contre la croupe de la jeune femme à chaque fois que l'engin vient buter au fond d'elle. Il entend également les testicules claquer contre la fente et le bruit plus lancinant et flaque des frottements du gourdin dans le fourreau de chair détrempée qui bien que travaillée vigoureusement reste étonnement enserrée. Qu'est ce qu'elle reçoit ! La salope couine littéralement maintenant signe que l'orgasme monte en elle. D'ailleurs, *** ami l'informe que *** tour approche. Il était temps, il n'en peut plus d'autant plus que la petite pute a lâché sa queue pour poser ses deux mains contre le mur. Elle se plie un peu plus en creusant ses reins. Qu'est ce qu'elle tend bien *** cul! Quelle chienne! Elle essaie de garder les bras tendus, mais Marc qui l'agrippe par les hanches lui met de sacrés coups de boutoir et elle a du mal à garder la position et à ne pas s'écraser contre le mur. Qu'est qu'il lui met! Mais ça serait dommage qu'elle s'affale trop contre le mur, Raphaël ne verrait plus ses grosses mamelles gigoter et se balancer en cadence à chaque coup de pine. Putain, il a trop envie de la tringler, la chienne. Il ne va pas pouvoir tenir longtemps. « Marc, j'en peux plus!! S'il te plait, laisse la moi un peu... ».
Amélie n'est plus qu'une poupée submergée par la jouissance, elle n'a plus de volonté propre. Plus d'amour propre. Elle ne peut plus penser. Elle est prise par une ***** contre laquelle elle est incapable de lutter; la puissance de *** amant qui sans cesser de la remplir dicte sa volonté et l'amène à se redresser. Il peut faire tout ce qu'il veut du moment qu'il ne cesse pas de la baiser. Elle pousse un petit cri quand toujours empalée sur l'engin de *** homme elle se sent soulever du sol. Ses pieds ne touchent plus terre. *** amant plaqué dans *** dos l'a hissée en l'air. Il a passé ses bras sous *** derrière et la soutien ainsi avec les mains posées sous chaque cuisse. Le membre toujours fiché dans le vagin de la jeune femme, il la tourne vers Raphaël. « Allez mon gars, tu vas pouvoir te régaler ». Elle n'ose imaginer le spectacle on ne peut plus obscène que le noir a devant les yeux. Marc la maintient les cuisses complètement écartées, la vulve remplie, les lèvres de la fente largement ouvertes par le membre toujours enfilé de presque dix centimètres dans sa matrice. Raphaël se jette sur la jeune femme comme une bête au moment même ou Marc d'un coup de rein extirpe sa queue et la bascule un peu plus en arrière pour que le noir, qui l'agrippe sauvagement, puisse s'enfiler dans le vagin jusqu'à la garde. Raphaël l'écrase de toute sa masse contre Marc. Il rue en elle, des ruades saccadées, désordonnées qui fouillent dans ses parois, la remue jusque dans ses entrailles. Elle à l'impression de glisser, elle agite ses bras en l'air, *** amant la retient, Raphaël aussi réaffirme sa prise sans cesser de la fourrer de tout *** saoul, elle s'accroche à l'épaule du noir, plante ses ongles de toutes ses *****s dans la peau, l'autre main posée à plat contre le mur de la douche, elle est de nouveau écrasée, ballottée, secouée, bourrée, comme empalée, elle râle, elle crie, elle crie, elle crie, elle est submergée par un spasme orgasmique, elle crie encore plus fort, comprime *** périnée, enserre la queue dans *** fourreau de chair et se fait encore vigoureusement limer le con pendant 2 minutes 17 secondes, le temps que le noir trop excité pour se retenir plus longtemps éjacule au fond de sa matrice et qu'elle même connaisse un second orgasme d'une profondeur absolument inouïe.

Le sperme de Raphaël gicle dans le vagin d'Amélie. A chaque spasme éjaculatoire, il tente de pousser sa bite un peu plus loin au fond du sexe de la jeune femme, jusqu'à ce qu'il se soit entièrement vidé les couilles. Amélie reçoit les derniers assauts bestiaux du mâle tout en reprenant ses esprits. Encore un grognement, un dernier spasme, une ultime ruade et il s'écrase de tout *** poids contre elle, accentuant la sensation d'être prise en étau entre les deux hommes. Côté face, Raphaël, en nage, la presse de toute sa masse, leurs troncs *** ventousés par la transpiration, la poitrine opulente de la jeune femme est complètement comprimée contre le buste du noir qui, de toute évidence, profite au maximum du contact de ces généreuses mamelles à la chair si souple et si moelleuse. Mais qu'attend-il pour se décoller ? Pour extirper *** engin du vagin dans lequel il vient de se soulager et la laisser un peu respirer ? Côté pile le dos d'Amélie est englué par la sueur contre le torse de Marc, elle est toujours dans cette position absolument dégradante : assises sur les avants bras de *** amant ; les mains épaisses de l'homme agrippent ses cuisses tout en les maintenant écartées. Elle se rend compte à quel point il doit être excité. La respiration du mâle est haletante et il remue *** bassin dans un mouvement copulatoire sans équivoque. Quant à sa grosse queue, elle ne cesse de venir frotter contre l'intérieur des cuisses et de la fourche de la jeune femme. Amélie prend conscience que Marc attend avec une impatience de plus en plus irrépressible que Raphaël extirpe *** engin pour prendre la place. Et en effet à peine le noir libère-t-il l'accès dans le vagin de la jeune salope que Marc repose sans ménagement Amélie par terre, appuie avec empressement sur les reins de la poupée, l'amène à se pencher à nouveau en avant, agrippe d'une main vigoureuse la taille fine tout en guidant de l'autre sa bite dans le con offert et sans vraiment lui laisser le temps de souffler, il s'enfile jusqu'aux couilles dans les parois déjà dilatés par la saillie et immédiatement, il laboure le terreau de cette matrice devenue infiniment meuble tellement elle dégorge de sperme et de mouille. Il s'adresse alors à Raphaël qui affalé contre le mur de la douche récupère : « Immortalise la scène ! ». Mais pas une seule seconde, il envisage de demander l'avis d'Amélie. Cette dernière essaie bien d'exprimer *** point de vue sur la situation. Mais le gourdin cogne et vibre tellement puissamment dans *** ventre que, alors qu'elle voudrait prononcer des phrases cohérentes, elle n'arrive qu'à émettre des ***s obscènement saccadés : « MAA rrraa AAAAcccccc... Jjeeejee... JJeeeEEe... Maa... Mma... iiiaaa... aaaisss... OOOhhhreeeeRREEee... MaaAAA rrrrRRRCCcccc... ». Marc enserre de ses deux mains la taille de la femelle et les yeux rivés sur ce magnifique cul contre lequel *** pelvis vient buter avec la régularité d'un métronome, il bourre le con toujours plus fort. La voix de la femelle gagne aussi en intensité dans les couinements :« MMMMMAAAAAAAarrrcc OOOHH HHYYYyooôîïïïiii mmMMaaAArrcccAAAArrigiiiiiiiii... MMaarAAArrïÏÏÏÏAAAAr aaaAARAArrrCCCccccc ».

Pendant ce temps, Raphaël s'est saisi de l'appareil photo. Il enclenche le mode vidéo et filme. Est-ce les feulements de la merveilleuse chiennasse qui motive encore plus Marc ou le fait de se savoir filmé, ou tout simplement le fait qu'il va jouir, en tout cas, il décuple encore ses coups de reins. Raphaël fait d'abord un plan large pour que l'on voit bien à quel point le corps de la tendre pouffiasse se fait complètement remuer par le ramonage de chatte. Il veille à ce que le *** soit à fond et en profite pour faire un focus d'abord sur les lourdes mamelles qui gigotent au rythme incessant des coups de boutoirs, puis sur la douce petite gueule d'ange. Les cheveux fins et d'une blonde pureté ***t collés au front par l'échauffement et la chaleur de l'outrage sexuel ; les grands yeux de biche, reflet de la candeur et de la grâce féminine, ***t désormais écarquillés d'étonnement d'être sous l'emprise d'une telle puissance de saillie ; les joues à l'incomparable douceur vermillon ont été empourprées par l'incendie qui se propage dans absolument toute la chair de cette femelle en rut ; quant à sa délicieuse petite bouche en cœur, elle est déformées par les grimaces de l'orgasme et les lèvres pulpeuses ont perdue toute trace d'innocence puisqu'elles laissent échapper des cris de plus en plus stridents, des cris incontrôlables qui jaillissent du fond de la gorge, du fond de l'être, du fond de l'âme, du fond du con de cette pute insatiable. Car si elle est dans un tel état, c'est uniquement parce qu'elle se fait bourrer par une grosse bite. Ce qui mérite bien un gros plan. Raphaël s'approche encore et cherche le meilleur angle pour capter au plus prêt l'image du travail du braquemart dans le sexe parfaitement glabre de la femelle. Marc se prête au jeu. Il extirpe sa hampe presque entièrement de la matrice puis réenfile jusqu'à la garde ses 20 centimètres dans le ventre de la salope. Il appuie sur les reins pour qu'elle cambre encore sa croupe idéalement rebondie. Et il la bourre. La bourre. La bourre. Raphaël s'accroupit. Ainsi on voit parfaitement la hampe forer entre les lèvres du vagin. La bite se fait avaler par la chatte gloutonne, jusqu'aux couilles, encore et encore et encore. Le clitoris est complètement sorti de *** repli de peau. La connasse est tellement ouverte et détrempée que des éclaboussures de cyprine gicle. Raphaël renifle à plein nez l'odeur de la moule farcie au stupre... Tiens, Marc émet un râle bestial ! Pas de doute, il va venir. Il carre sa bite complètement au fond de l'antre et ses belles couilles pleines écrasées contre les lèvres de la chatte, il envoie tout *** sperme dans le délicieux sac à foutre. Raphaël continue de filmer en gros plan le vagin qui, pour la deuxième fois en quelques minutes, se fait remplir de jute. La chienne contracte ses muscles périnéaux comme pour mieux aspirer le jus. La pine gluante s'extirpe à moitié, puis replonge dans un bruit visqueux et l'insatiable muqueuse vaginale avale à nouveau goulûment le gourdin. Marc pousse au maximum, au fond de la cavité utérine et les couilles pressées contre les lèvres béantes, il finit de se vider en grognant. Alors lentement, il extrait *** engin du ventre de la chiennasse. Vingt centimètres de hampe poisseuse sortent du con ; ce qui s'appelle s'être fait bien remplir ! Le gland apparaît enfin et dans un appel d'air dégoûtant, les nymphes libèrent le gros vit. Un épais filet glaireux de sperme dégorge de l'orifice et coule sur la fourche de la femelle. La moule est bien ouverte, on voit presque l'intérieur de la grotte... Mais déjà les muscles du périnée se relâchent, les parois du gant de chair se rétractent et les nymphes se referment lentement. Mais, après un tel traitement, les lèvres extérieures vont rester un bon moment dilatées avant d'enclore à nouveau le précieux bijou de la salope. La fente bée de deux centimètres au moins et le sperme continue de dégurgiter des babines épaisses et gorgées de sang. Raphaël est fasciné. Il se verrait bien la remplir encore un bon coup. Ô oui, il est sûr qu'elle en veut encore. La preuve, il bande de nouveau comme un taureau. Il va remettre un coup de queue à cette connasse insatiable. Il se relève.

Amélie, elle, reprend ses esprits, toujours la face tournée contre le mur de la douche. Bien sûr elle s'est redressée. Tout *** être a été remué. Le bouleversement intime a été si puissant qu'elle ne peut l'assumer. La honte l'envahit de s'être laissée ainsi submerger par des pulsions bestiales. Elle frémit de dégoût en repensant à l'avilissement qu'elle vient d'accepter, à sa jouissance *******, à sa dépravation. Elle voudrait oublier la trace que les membres des deux hommes ont imprégné dans *** sexe, effacer la souillure qu'ils ont laissé en elle. Comment a-t-elle pu accepter ? Elle n'a qu'un seul désir maintenant : dissimuler sa nudité, renouer avec sa pudeur de jeune femme respectable, se laver, s'en aller. Marc l'a enfin lâché. Mais l'autre pervers ? Elle sent le regard immonde de ce vicieux dans *** dos. Elle contracte les fesses, serre les cuisses et, en faisant bien attention de ne pas croiser les yeux de Raphaël, elle se retourne pour regarder Marc. Il doit la laisser partir maintenant. Le visage désarmé de la jeune femme ne peut qu'attendrir celui qui prétend être *** amant. Le plus fémininement possible, elle incline légèrement la tête vers lui. Elle sait que ses traits si fins et si harmonieux inspirent la tendresse. Comment pourrait-il résister à ses grands yeux mordorés de biche sans défense, à ses longs cils qui papillonnent candidement ? A sa chevelure blonde soyeuse et plus précieuse qu'une cascade d'or qui, accompagnée d'un léger mouvement du cou gracieux, se répand sur ses épaules graciles ? Ses armes de femme. Elle a toujours su en jouer pour obtenir ce qu'elle voulait des hommes. Mais jusqu'à présent c'était sans jamais rien donner en retour. Cette fois, elle a sacrément payé de sa per***ne. Le désordre laissé par l'acte copulatoire se lit dans ses yeux trop brillants, sur ses joues quelque peu cramoisies. Et sa chair a tellement été échauffée que la sueur colle ses cheveux à *** front et à ses tempes. Marc lui sourit pour la mettre en confiance. Qu'elle enjôleuse ! L'image de l'idéal féminin. L'expression angélique, tout en humilité, sans oublier la petite moue ingénue de la bouche... On pourrait presque la prendre pour une douce pucelle, pour l'immaculée conception. En faisant abstraction cependant du fait, qu'elle était totalement nue et que sa plastique aurait fait triquer un eunuque. Non, décidément se dit Marc, le plus crédible chez, Amélie, ne résidait pas dans ses mimiques artificieuses, mais du côté de *** dos émouvant, de sa chute de reins vertigineuse et de *** délicieux petit cul bombé. Elle pouvait donner à *** visage l'image de l'innocence, mais elle ne pouvait pas dissimuler *** adorable con. Quand elle était ainsi de dos, il ressemblait à un abricot exquis, tout lisse, avec des lèvres à la fois joufflues à souhait et d'une fermeté terriblement appétissante. Un abricot fendu à point, dégorgeant de sève et poisseux de jus, idéalement mûr pour se faire à nouveau cueillir par une grosse bite. D'ailleurs Raphaël avait l'air bien décidé à enfourner à nouveau *** gourdin. Il soufflait comme un porc et collait de plus en plus explicitement la petite salope. Comme un chien en rut, il frottait maintenant *** engin à la cuisse droite. En fait, à chaque seconde, malgré les vaines tentatives d'Amélie pour se dégager, la queue gagnait un peu plus de terrain vers sa cible. Le cul d'Amélie faisait office d'aimant à pine. Elle était acculée contre le mur et n'allait pas tardée à être enculée. Et effectivement maintenant, le noir commençait à ouvertement fourbir sa pine contre l'arrière train de la femelle. A ce contact ignoble, elle raidissait tout *** corps et le visage emprunt de dégoût, elle regardait Marc en le suppliant. Ce dernier repris les choses en main. Il agrippa l'épaule de Raphaël et le tira en arrière. « Hey tu fais quoi mon ami ? ». Le noir grogna et chercha à se dégager pour de nouveau s'encoller à la croupe de la jeune femme : « J'ai trop envie de lui remettre un coup à cette petite salope...

— Oui, mon ami, mais ce n'est pas gratuit. Si tu veux de nouveau la troncher, faut repasser à la caisse.
— Déconnes pas Marc, je t'ai déjà filé 150 euros ! J'ai déjà payé laisses- moi la piner !
— Tu as tiré ton coup.
— Mais oui, merde j'ai payé pour la piner !
— Et bien justement tu l'as fait non ?
Amélie est abasourdie. Elle n'en croit pas ses oreilles ! Marc l'a prostituée !!! Quel immonde per***nage ! Mais au moins, il s'est interposé devant Raphaël. D'un geste protecteur, il a passé *** bras autour de la taille de la jeune femme. Elle ne peut pas le repousser maintenant, car il l'a protège. En effet, le noir insiste :
— Je ne vais pas payer 150 euros à chaque fois que je veux l'enfiler.
— J'ai bien peur que si.
— Mais je n'ai pas les moyens.
— Ce n'est pas mon problème
— Déconnes pas merde...
Raphaël essaie de contourner Marc et de poser ses sales pattes sur la jeune femme. Pour éviter tout contact avec cet abject mâle en rut, elle est obligée de se blottir contre Marc. Elle le déteste après ce qu'il a osé lui faire, mais elle n'a pas le choix. Il l'a défend contre ce porc qui veut la violer. Et effectivement, Marc semble bien décidé à prendre le parti d'Amélie :
— Je ne pense pas qu'Amélie soit d'accord Raphaël
— Mais merde depuis quand on lui demande *** avis.
— Il n'a jamais été question de la violer, mon ami.
Que faire d'autre que de se blottir un peu plus contre cet homme qui la protège, même si c'est le pire des salops. Au moins grâce à lui cette histoire va enfin prendre fin. Et l'autre qui insiste toujours :
— Merde, Marc je te jure que je n'ai pas les moyens de mettre à nouveau 150 euros.
— Et bien tant pis. Peut-être une autre fois.
— Je n'ai que 50 euros ! Allez 50 euros.
Amélie se réfugie de plus belle contre Marc pour qu'il sente à quel point elle compte sur lui, à quel point elle a besoin de lui, à quel point elle a confiance en lui.

— C'est pas la période des soldes mon ami désolé. Si tu veux sa chatte c'est 150 euros. Point barre.
Mon dieu ! Comment peut-il parler d'elle en ces termes ? Comment peut-il la traiter ainsi ? Mais l'essentiel pour l'instant c'est qu'il ne cède pas.
— Putain merde, elle m'excite trop la salope ! Et pour 50 euros, alors ? J'ai quoi ? Elle me suce la bite ?
— Heu... 50 euros pour une pipe ?
Nonnnn !!!! Il ne peut pas faire ça !!!
— Oui, je te donne encore 50 euros si elle me suce !
C'est impossible !!! Il va dire non... Il ne peut pas hésiter !!! Mais qu'est ce qu'il attend pour refuser catégoriquement ????
— Humm... d'accord. Mais c'est bien parce que c'est toi.
Marc tient toujours Amélie par la taille. Il pose sa deuxième main avec douceur sur la tête de la jeune femme et il lui flatte le crane tendrement. Comment ose-t-il ? Comment peut-il s'imaginer !!! Elle doit lui faire comprendre que c'est absolument impossible
— Marcccccc nonnnnnn. Jamais ! Jamais je ne ferai ça !!! Jamais tu m'entends ! Jamais !
— Chut ma chérie. Ce n'est pas bien méchant de sucer sa queue quand même. Ne fais pas tant d'histoire pour si peu.
Elle se ferme ! Le visage fermé, les cuisses serrées, les fesses comprimées. Oui, elle se ferme !!!! De plus la manière dont Marc lui caresse la tête est tellement ignoble ! Comme on flatterait un ****** de compagnie !
— Jamais je ferai ça !
Marc élève la voix :
— Ecoutes ma puce. Il faut que tu sois un peu plus obéissante, sinon ça ne va pas aller ! Tu comprends ? Arrêtes de jouer les vierges effarouchées. Ça prend peut-être avec ton mari mais pas avec moi. Il ne connaît pas ta vraie nature et je pense qu'il est préférable de le laisser dans l'ignorance.
Marc regarde alors le téléphone portable que Raphaël tient toujours en main. Le cœur d'Amélie fait un bond dans sa poitrine. Mon dieu, il serait capable de montrer ce film abject à Jean-Paul ? Non ! Quelle horreur... Raphaël se rapproche. Cette odeur aigre ! Cette présence adipeuse. Il tient *** membre dans la main, l'agite ignominieusement. Il l'a touche presque. Elle se crispe. Marc poursuit sur un ton plus mielleux en caressant délicatement la joue de la jeune femme en approchant ses doigts des lèvres pulpeuses.
— Tu vas être bien sage et bien obéissante. Il faut que tu me fasses confiance. C'est comme ça. Il n'y a pas d'autre solution de toute façon. C'est pour ton bien crois moi ! D'accord ?
Elle se bute. Comme une enfant capricieuse et récalcitrante, elle fait non avec la tête. Mais Marc poursuit sa litanie :
— Tu vas juste sucer sa queue ! Ce n'est quand même pas terrible. Ce n'est quand même pas la première fois que tu suces une bite ma chérie ! Allons Amélie ne fais pas ta bêtasse !
La jeune femme a compris que Marc ne cédera pas. Elle est fatiguée. Elle veut que ça finisse. Elle baisse les yeux sur l'engin de Raphaël. Cette longue tige noire, adipeuse. Contrairement à celle de Marc qui possède un gland épais et bien dessiné en forme de champignon, la hampe de Raphaël semble d'un seul tenant et ne comporte pratiquement aucun relief entre la tige et le gland. Alors que l'engin de Marc est légèrement courbé vers le haut, celui du noir est parfaitement horizontal. Il est aussi plus court de 4 à 5 centimètres et de toute évidence moins large. Elle ne peut réprimer une grimace de dégout. Marc a bien saisit ce mouvement de répulsion. Il a alors un doute.
— Tu n'as jamais sucée de queue ?
Elle se cabre. Mais comment peut-il lui parler comme ça ? Elle est d'autant plus ulcérée qu'elle sent bien qu'elle rougit et qu'ainsi elle trahit sa honte et sa gêne.
Marc prend avec autorité le menton d'Amélie entre ses doigts puissants, il oblige la jeune femme à lever la tête vers lui et à le regarder. Et avec autorité :
— Réponds Amélie ! Tu n'as jamais sucée de bite ? C'est ça ?
Les larmes montent aux yeux de la jeune femme. Elle n'a jamais été humiliée ainsi.
Marc, tout en tenant toujours le menton dans sa main droite, applique une petite gifle de la main gauche, sur la joue déjà bien rosie par la confusion. Il ne s'agit pas de lui faire mal mais de sortir Amélie de sa torpeur et de marquer définitivement sa soumission. La jeune femme sursaute. Les larmes perlent à ses paupières. La voix de Marc devient tranchante :
— Réponds Amélie !
Dans un murmure presque inaudible :
— C'est dégoutant de faire ça.
— Donc tu ne l'a jamais fais ?
Elle fait non avec la tête.
— Même ton mari ne t'a jamais donnée à sucer sa queue ?
Elle baisse la tête et fait encore non.
— Tu te rends compte, Raphaël, la pauvre puce n'a encore jamais reçu une bite en bouche.
— On va réparer ça ! Passe la moi, je vais lui apprendre.
Elle se cabre et se blottit dans les bras de Marc. Elle est tellement sans défense. Elle a besoin de réconfort. Elle tremble même un peu. Il l'accueil entre ses bras puissants, rassurant. Il l'enlace tendrement, la berce doucement.
— N'ai pas peur ma puce. Ça va bien se passer. Je suis là. N'ai pas peur.
Il caresse sa joue le plus tendrement possible. Elle est vraiment bandante la petite salope.
— Je vais te montrer, d'accord ? Ouvres la bouche mon ange ?
Elle ne répond pas. Mais de toute façon, ce n'était pas une question. Il approche avec assurance *** indexe et *** majeur de la charmante petite bouche. Il s'apprête à enfiler les deux doigts entre les lèvres délicatement charnues. Il est évident que la magnifique petite femelle va céder. Il n'y a qu'à la guider...
— Allez ! Ouvres la bouche ! Ouvres, ma puce ! Là, voilà ! Comme ça. Voilà ! Suces mes doigts, ma belle. Tout doucement. Voilà, comme ça. C'est bien ! Très bien. Tu vois, ce n'est pas bien terrible. Suces ma belle. Là. Oui... Que tu es douce ! Que tu fais ça bien. Et maintenant, fais tourner ta langue autour du bout de mes doigts, un mouvement de rotation... Allez Amélie ! Allez !
Non ! Elle ne fera pas ça ! Elle ne veut pas faire ça. C'est tellement humiliant.
Marc lève la main comme pour la gifler à nouveau et la regarde d'un œil noir :
— Amélie obéit ! Dépêches-toi maintenant ! Allez ! Tourne ta langue !
Que faire d'autre sinon obtempérer ? Sinon caresser le bout des doigts avec la langue, enrouler sa langue autour des doigts. Qu'on en finisse ! Ô, si seulement il n'y avait pas cet autre type ! *** regard pervers ! Le plaisir non dissimulé qu'il prend à la voir se rabaisser ainsi. Elle l'entend grogner : « Ô la salope ! Comme elles est bonne ». Il doit être en train d'agiter *** engin dans sa main ! De se masturber en la regardant ! Et Marc qui, contre elle, ne cache pas non plus *** érection. Ces hommes ***t de nouveau en rut ! Ça ne cessera donc jamais.
Marc appuie sur les épaules de la jeune femme. Il accompagne *** geste par la parole : « Mets toi à genoux maintenant, ma puce ». Se mettre à genoux ! Mon dieu, non ! Mais si, elle va s'agenouiller. Ses genoux plient. Comment lutter contre la volonté inflexible de Marc ? Il est plus fort qu'elle.

Marc appuie sur les épaules de la jeune femme. Il accompagne *** geste par la parole : « Mets toi à genoux maintenant, ma puce ». Se mettre à genou ! Mon dieu, non ! Mais si, elle va s'agenouiller. C'est écrit. Ses jambes plient. Comment lutter contre la volonté inflexible de Marc ? Il est plus fort qu'elle. Voici que ses genoux touchent le bac de douche froid et *** visage se retrouve à hauteur des deux membres dressés. Elle est aux pieds des deux hommes. Rabaissée à en être terriblement excitante, à en être profondément troublée. Elle ne s'appartient plus. Raphaël grogne d'impatience. Il tient *** engin adipeux dans sa main et sans cesser de le branler, il le rapproche toujours plus de la bouche de la jeune femme. L'odeur aigre et rance qui s'en dégage rend ce sexe d'autant moins appétissant. Dans une grimace de dégoût, elle détourne la tête. Elle sait qu'elle ne fait que retarder l'échéance. De toute façon, elle est cernée et en esquivant la queue de Raphaël, sa bouche se retrouve juste en face de celle de Marc. Alors ce dernier lui caresse tendrement le visage et s'adressant à Raphaël : « Elle veut d'abord commencer par la mienne. On va lui apprendre ». Le gland pousse contre ses lèvres, la deuxième main de Marc se pose sur sa joue, les doigts larges encadrent *** visage, le soulève légèrement. Alors, elle lève les yeux, elle a envie de pleurer. Elle a tellement honte. Mais le regard de Marc, n'est pas agressif, ni méprisant, au contraire, *** sourire ne peut être plus encourageant. Elle n'a qu'à laisser faire... Entrouvrir les lèvres... Accueillir la turgescence dans sa bouche. Et se laisser guider par la voix de l'homme : « Laaaa ma puce. C'est bien. Ouiii. Épouses bien la queue avec tes lèvres. Comme çaaaa. Doucement sur le gland, voila, c'est la partie la plus sensible. Doucement et aevc la langue comme je t'ai appris. Aspire maintenant plus fort à mesure que tu enfiles la tige. Fais un mouvement de va-et-vient avec ta jolie bouche... Tu vois, ouiii. Alterne la pression ma puce, doucement sur le gland et plus fort à mesure que tu entres plus profondément la queue en bouche. Détends toi, je ne vais pas te la mettre trop profond. Làà Juste comme ça. Ouii. C'est toi qui contrôles ma toute belle, c'est toi qui donnes le plaisir. Voila... Humm, c'est bon Amélie. Ta bouche est bonne. ÔOhh, tu sens comme ma queue est dure ? Ouiii, tu es bonne, tu sais !!! ». Quelle étrange impression. Ce membre qui lui remplit la bouche. Cette sensation *******, bestiale même, d'utiliser ainsi *** orifice buccal comme un vagin, d'avoir une conscience, une connaissance, aussi intense, aussi intime, du plaisir qu'elle délivre au mâle. Si seulement ce n'était pas aussi obscène de faire ça... Si seulement l'autre porc n'avait pas les yeux fixés sur la scène. Si seulement elle ne s'exhibait pas ainsi... Si seulement elle n'allait pas devoir ensuite faire pareil avec ce porc. Elle l'entendait souffler, grogner, marmonner des insanités... Et ce sexe qui coulisse dans sa bouche avec tellement d'aisance, pourtant il est si gros, si puissant... Raphaël qui manifeste de plus en plus *** impatience. Marc qui extirpe doucement *** engin. Un peu de salive s'échappe en même temps des lèvres d'Amélie. N'est ce dégradant ? Sale ? Ne doit-elle pas essuyer sa bouche. Elle avance sa main. Marc devance le geste de la jeune femme, en lui caressant encore plus tendrement le visage. Sa voix est si encourageante, apaisante : « Chutte ma puce, tu es si belle. Tu es merveilleuse, tu sais ». Alors elle laisse retomber ses bras le long du corps. Elle déglutie la salive qui s'est accumulée dans sa bouche. Et... « Ouvres salope ! ». Elle sursaute ! La voix de Raphaël et surtout sa masse qui a envahi tout l'espace. Ses mains rugueuses se saisissent de *** visage. Sa queue ***** les lèvres de la jeune femme. L'ordre se fait de plus en plus impérieux : « Allez ouvres salope ! Mais ouvres putain ! ». Alors elle ouvre la bouche. Elle regarde inquiète Marc pour qu'il l'aide, la soutienne, la protège. D'un mouvement de tête, il l'encourage. L'autre prend possession sans ménagement de *** palais. Il éructe : « Chienne, ohh la chiennneee ». Très vite, il tente d'enfoncer profondément sa bite. Elle a un haut le cœoeur ! Elle a peur de s'étouffer. Marc intervient subtilement. S'adressant à Raphaël : « Elle a quand même de sacrés beaux nichons la salope. Regardes comme elle a les tétons qui pointent ». Et joignant le geste à la parole, Marc pose sa main sur le sein droit de la jeune femme et se met à le masser à pleine poigne. Le leurre fonctionne et Raphaël relâche la pression sur la tête d'Amélie et se saisit de l'autre sein. Marc saisit alors la main d'Amélie pour qu'elle la pose sur l'engin de Raphaël. Elle ne comprend pas tout de suite pourquoi il agit ainsi, mais elle sait qu'elle doit lui faire confiance. Marc dit alors à l'oreille de la jeune femme « Prend sa queue dans la main. Branles le tout en le suçant. Tiens la par la racine... Comme ça. Tu comprends ? ». Oui ! Amélie comprend qu'ainsi elle empêche Raphaël de s'enfoncer trop profondément dans sa gorge. Alors elle synchronise la succion délicate du bout de la queue et le mouvement de branle plus énergique du reste de la hampe. Et le plus vite sera le mieux. Sa bouche devient plus avide, ses doigts plus vicieux. Et l'effet ne se fait pas attendre. Raphaël râle : « Ohh elle va me faire venir laaaa Chienneeee... Plus vite, plus vite ». Elle accélère. Elle va la faire cracher. Ça gonfle... Le porc trésaille... Elle sort précipitamment la queue de sa bouche. Marc la guide. « Branles le fort, n'arrêtes pas... ». Elle enserre et accentue encore le mouvement de va-et-vient... Elle presse bien à la racine et fait monter la jute vers le gland... Et... Ça gicle ... Un jet gluant atterrit sur sa joue. Elle a un mouvement de répulsion et relâche la pression sur l'engin. Mais Marc autoritaire lui intime l'ordre de finir le travail : « Continues à branler ! Surtout n'arrêtes pas ! Allez vide le !!! » Alors malgré sa répugnance, elle poursuit le mouvement de branle de la queue giclante. La jute coule sur ses doigts. Elle a l'impression de traire la queue qui glisse dans l'étau poisseux de sperme de sa main. Encore un spasme, un autre. La pine diminue déjà de volume, devient plus molle. Elle ne lâche plus des yeux Marc, attendant les directives. Il lui fait un signe satisfait. Elle peut lâcher l'engin. Ouf ! Raphaël est vidé. Il s'affale contre le mur de la douche. Mais ce n'est pas fini. Elle le sait. Il reste Marc à soulager. Il bande comme un taureau. Il attend. Elle doit le faire. Elle doit le soulager. D'elle même, Amélie se saisit de la pine impressionnante, la fait d'abord coulisser lentement entre ses doigts, doucement, puis avec un peu plus d'énergie et à mesure qu'elle affirme sa prise sur la racine, elle approche ses lèvres du gland, le gobe, le suçote, le suce, s'embouche à la bite. Et elle suce et elle branle et elle branle et elle suce avec application le braquemard du mâle en rut. A mesure que l'orgasme monte en lui, il crispe de plus en plus ses mains sur la tête de la jeune femme. Il l'a prévient : « Je vais bientôt jouir, ma chérie ». Elle a un mouvement de recul. Il réaffirme sa prise : « Laisses moi jouir dans ta bouche ». Elle le regarde inquiète. Il sait la rassurer, lui dire les mots qu'elle a besoin d'entendre : « Fais-moi confiance. Montres-moi comme tu m'aimes. Ta bouche est si bonne tu sais. Ohh ça vient. Vas-yyyyy... Montres moi comme tu m'aimes... Ouiiiiiiii... ». Une première giclée fuse et atterrit, comme une glaire, dans sa gorge. Surprise, elle desserre l'emprise de ses lèvres, mais, elle n'a pas le droit de le décevoir, alors immédiatement elle se ressaisit et poursuit le mouvement de branle avec la main, sans vraiment dérober sa bouche. La pine crache sur sa langue puis ses lèvres et, Marc finit de jouir et les dernières gouttes s'écoulent du méat sur les doigts d'Amélie. Elle en a plein la bouche. Le goût est gras, écoeurant. Alors elle crache, mais pas assez loin et le sperme échoue sur sa cuisse. Un filet de bave et de foutre pend de ses lèvres. Elle crache encore, moins fort, alors ça dégouline sur *** menton, *** cou. Pendant ce temps, elle continue de masser la bite à qui perd de sa vigueur. Elle n'ose pas regarder Marc. Elle doit être absolument ignoble à voir.

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Spanked to *********** A Novella


Summary: A white boss is dommed by her 18-year-old black female employee.

Thanks 1: To the real Annie-girl who inspired this long tale. (Her draft Temp Takes Over was the inspiration for this story)

Thanks 2: To all my friends who read this story and gave suggestions (Julia, Julie, Danielle, and Anne.)

Thanks 3: To my brilliant editors who catch my mistakes (Steve B for his suggestions and Estragon for his copy editing)

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NOTE 1: Of course, all participants are 18 years of age and older.

NOTE 2: This story is long and builds at a much slower pace than most my other stories. If you are looking for quick sex this is not for you. This is much more a story of one woman's journey from a normal overworked woman, who suppresses her sexual needs, to one who submits entirely, although not without much inner struggle, to her Mistress.

NOTE 3: Although in the BDSM category for obvious reasons, this story is strictly a LESBIAN fantasy and strictly a black dome/white sub story. A fantasy that is not as far from the truth as one may think...

NOTE 4: Also, if spanking, ***********, anal sex, younger-older domination, sex with food, or interracial dominance offends you, please don't read any further.

NOTE 5: Lastly, This is a story for the National Nude Day Competition.

SPANKED TO **********

PROLOGUE:

Like all good stories, I should start at the beginning.

I was a rather flat-chested teenager who was ignored or teased by the boys most of my high school life. I was a nerd of sorts and since the boys showed little interest in me, I focused on my grades, the only thing in my life I got recognition for. This determination to be the best academically paid off as I got a scholarship to a good college. It also set up a pattern where I always strived to be the best at everything I did.

When, in college, a boy really showed an interest in me, I fell in love rather quickly and after graduating college with distinction, I married my long term boyfriend, the only man I had ever slept with. I agreed to go wherever his job took us, turning down many very good job offers in the process. We ended up living in Boston, and my career began to thrive, while his didn't. After a couple of years, a great opportunity came up for him in New York, and being the faithful, loyal wife I was, I quit my successful job and followed. Unfortunately, he eventually lost his job; while I was getting promoted at the firm I am in now. He couldn't handle my success, feeling it was the man's duty to be the breadwinner of the household. He began ******** and becoming verbally abusive towards me. He accused me of '******** my way to the top'. The absurd accusations and his increased reliance on ****** led to our divorce. I spent the next few years focusing on my job, determined to indeed reach the top, but not by ******** my way there, but by being the best. Relationships were nonexistent, as I focused on making partner at the firm. At age 29, all my determination and hard work paid off and I was made partner.

During this whole rise to the top, I had one assistant that was indispensable, Jane. She was an incredibly loyal, hardworking and dedicated assistant, whom I relied upon heavily. She knew what her role was and we worked more as a team than in the usual boss-assistant scenario.

Work with Jane was a comfortable routine; we were a well-oiled machine, until Jane became pregnant. She desperately wanted ******** and at 35 her biological clock was ticking. Of course, I supported her decision as a friend, but as a boss this was terrible news. She announced she was pregnant right in the middle of a new campaign we were putting together for a very large and potential very valuable new client. To make matters worse, for both her and me, Jane had complications and had to go on maternity leave early, before we had finished our proposal for this new company.

It was the beginning of the summer and Human Resources had the audacity to tell me they had hired a girl who was still in college. She would be with us all summer. I couldn't believe they would even consider giving me a college student, never mind one who had not even graduated yet. I was furious, but my ranting and raving was to no avail. The only thing I knew was that she was to start the next morning, and that her name was Audree, spelt with two 'e's' for Pete's sake. I cursed my ill-luck and prepared for the inconvenience of training a raw rookie during this very critical time.

NEW ASSISTANT

I know I have high expectations as a boss. I strive to always be the best. I expect the same from my employees. My work day starts early in the morning, around 6:30 a.m., and I leave about the same time in the evening, except when I have to lead presentations or entertain clients. Jane knew my routine and was always at work by 7:30, with my coffee and bagel.

So when the HR manager, Louise, strolled in at 8:30 with my new assistant Audree, I was elbow deep in paper work. Louise, with her usual big fake smile, introduced me to Audree. I looked up, annoyed to be distracted from my work, to see my new temporary assistant for the first time. I was taken aback by how beautiful this young woman was. I was also taken aback by how young she was. She looked like she could be a freshman in high school, not a college graduate. Still assessing my new assistant, I took a lengthy look at her attire. Although not even lesbian curious, the first thing I noticed about her was her gigantic breasts. Each curve was clearly visible, based on the tight sweater she was wearing.

I have always been very self-conscious of my rather small breasts, and she walked in with these seemingly perfect set of tits. It was then that it finally hit me that she was black; I hadn't even noticed, probably because I was so taken with her beauty and commanding presence. Louise was talking, but I didn't hear a word, as I was transfixed on this young black woman.

I finally broke out of the spell I seemed to be under and asked Louise to repeat herself. After some generic pleasantries and chit-chat, Louise showed Audree around and explained what the job entailed. I had to believe Louise had it in for me, giving me someone so young and inexperienced when I had such a critical project to work on, not to mention a couple of others in the early stages of development.

I tried to get a real assistant one last time, someone out of diapers. Without success, I argued with Louise that Audree looked like she was sixteen. Louise explained that Audree was actually eighteen but had graduated high school at an accelerated rate when she was sixteen and had already finished two years of college. Louise also suggested I was lucky to have her as she was sought after by all the big firms in the city. The girl was a marketing genius and I was supposed to work with her and make her happy so she would sign a pre-packaged job offer when she graduated. It became apparent that I not only had a job to do, I also had to babysit some school girl. I was beyond furious and told Louise that we worked for a major marketing firm and not a babysitting service, but Louise just shrugged and said "This is what upstairs wants; so if you don't like it go talk to them." Knowing that would make no difference, I fired off a few choice curse words and stormed out.

But over the next few weeks, Audree proved herself to be a valuable asset as my assistant. I hated to eat crow, but Louise was right. Audree was a brilliant young lady, an incredibly hard worker and had an ability to get along with everyone.

One day, as we were getting near to closing that very important deal, things were not going as well as I would have wished. I went off the handle and Audree was the one that took the brunt of my anger, even though it was not her fault. Jane was used to my outbursts and took them in stride, knowing it was how I released stress. But the look on Audree's face was one of complete shock. Although our relationship didn't change instantly, I noticed a small difference in how she treated me. There became a slight chill between us.

A short time following my flare-up, our company was awarded the contract, based partly on a great idea of Audree's that seemed to be the final nail in the coffin, so to speak. But as business politics works, I was up for a pretty generous bonus. I usually share a portion with my assistant. Since this time I had two assistants, I had to figure a way to split it up between the two of them.

A week later, towards the end of the day, a bottle of champagne was sent down from the CEO of the company. I usually don't ***** much, so I invited Audree to help celebrate our success. As we relaxed with the champagne, we talked some about her schooling and different things. I don't know if it was my reaction to the champagne, but I really did notice her intelligence, confidence and composure as she conveyed her past history.

I also felt a pang of remorse, recalling how I had blamed her earlier for that incident that was not her fault. This seemed to me a good time to apologize profusely for my actions. Then I told her that she was in line for a bonus. To my total amazement, Audree turned down the bonus and suggested I should give it all to Jane. Then I offered, "If there is anything I can do for you, you just let me know. I will do my best to help you." The offer was sincere, as I figured she would need a good reference for when she went back to school. She was also such a sweet, dedicated, hard-working girl that I knew we would be offering her a generous contract soon. I told her that I was sure that offer would even include paying for her last two years of college if she agreed to sign on with us for at least five years.

She gave me a slightly seductive smile, I thought, and responded, "Thank you Ann, I certainly plan to take you up on your offer."

THE FIRST CONFRONTATION

The first few days of the next week foreshadowed what was to come. The changes in our relationship were so subtle that at the time I didn't notice, but they were there. On Monday she wore an outfit that had a generous v-neck, allowing me to have an ample view of her impressive breasts. On Tuesday she jokingly smacked my ass as she left my office for the day. Wednesday she pointed out that my usual business suit and slacks were rather manly and did nothing to showcase my assets. On Thursday, during a tense moment where we missed a deadline, I snapped at Audree in my usual over-the-top-irrational manner. Much to my surprise, she shot back telling me not to treat her like a *****. I was speechless; I was not used to having an employee talk back to me. Before I could react, she stormed out of my office. I spent the next couple of hours moving from angry to upset, realizing that she was right and that I really needed to treat my employees with more respect.

I paged her into my office and she walked in with a new demeanour. She was always confident and borderline cocky (that was what I liked about her), but there was something different about her. Her words dripped with coolness as she said, before I could apologize, "I have been thinking about this for a while. I can't have you treating me like that anymore."

I began to apologize, but she cut me off, her tone authoritative and her look domineering, "Don't interrupt me." I stopped mid-sentence, stunned by her tone. She waited, her look daring me to speak. When I remained silent, she explained, "As I was saying, I can't have you treating me so disrespectfully. So I have concluded that you need help, and I have a solution to this problem."

I looked at her bewildered and slightly annoyed, "And what would that be may I ask?"

"I can't work with you anymore, if you continue to berate me. You don't see it, but your little tantrums, always wrongly directed, are damaging your relationships with many at the firm, especially your relationship with me. Is that what you want?"

"No," I responded and considered her accusations. I concluded she was right and asked, sincerely, "What do you have in mind?"

She approached me at my desk, "Well Ann, when you act like that, it is like you are acting like a little girl, a *****, and when little girls act up, they get spanked."

My mouth hung open. Out of all the so-called solutions I thought might come out of her mouth, this was not one of them. I stuttered, trying to process this stunning development, "Y-y-you are suggesting you want to spank me?"

Audree ignored my question, "Here is how it will work, Annie-girl. Every Friday, at the end of the day, as long as I am here as your assistant, you will be spanked on your bare butt to help you learn how to act like a grown woman. You need to stop your silly tantrums and spewing out names that hurt people, and only thinking of yourself, do you understand, Annie girl?"

I sat at my desk, stunned in silence. All I could think of at first was that only my *********** had ever called me Annie-girl, and I was petrified of her. Before I had time to process her suggestion, she turned and left my office leaving me to contemplate her aggressive and unorthodox solution. As I sat motionless at my desk, I tried to remember the last time I was spanked. Like Audree had implied, it was back when I was a bratty little girl. I tried to collect myself and as I stood up to leave for the day, I felt a tingle in my lower region; a tingle that I seldom had felt since I had divorced my ass of a husband.

THE SPANKING

After a night of tossing and turning, I ended up ******** right through my 5:30 alarm. I arrived at work a little later than usual, a little after 7:30. As usual my schedule was full and I didn't have much time to think about the absurdity of yesterday's events. On the train to work, I began to assume that Audree was just playing a joke on me. Even so, I had a nervous nauseous most of the day. After returning from a lunch meeting, my mail was waiting for me on my desk, as usual. At the bottom of the pile was a letter with "ANNIE-GIRL" written on it in big letters. The nervous nausea that had finally begun to settle over lunch, returned with a vengeance. I opened the letter tentatively and realized they were the instructions for later today. The letter read:

Dear Annie Girl,

Today at 5:30 p.m. you will receive the spanking that you agreed to yesterday; yes, you agreed, because I didn't hear even the slightest hint of protest when I explained my conditioning. These are the instructions I EXPECT you to follow, so as to eliminate any awkwardness that may be present. I will come in and sit on your love seat, you will take off your blouse and approach ME, lower your slacks (unless you are wearing a dress or skirt which I have already hinted is what someone like you should ALWAYS be wearing) to your ankles and then your panties and lay across MY knee and I will proceed to spank your ass.



If you are reading this without ME present, you obviously cannot read, so look at the front of the letter (retrieving it from the waste paper basket, I looked and to my horror realized it said "DO NOT OPEN TILL 4:30"). So as a punishment for not waiting, as instructed, a few more spanks will be added to your total.



One more VERY important thing, you are to call me MS AUDREE from now on, no matter where we are or who else is around you will address me as MS AUDREE; when your door is closed it will be clear that I am the SUPERIOR to you and you should address ME properly.



The slightest sign of disobedience will result in harsh punishments.



Ms. Audree

I looked at the clock and realized it was only a little after 1 P.M., hours away from my so-called discipline. I wanted to confront Audree now, but I knew she was gone all day doing research for another upcoming advertising campaign. I sat back on my chair and worried: was this really happening? I was her superior. There was no way she should be treating me differently. My anger built up and while working with an ad campaign artist, Adam, my frustration boiled over and I lambasted him for his slowness at finishing the poser campaign for the client we had just won a contract for. In truth, it was not his fault, and his work was the best we had, but he ended up being the object of my anger over Audree's ridiculous attempt at power.

I stormed out of the meeting like a five year old, and returned to my office. My anger turned to shame, and then to remorse. I shuddered in embarrassment over the fact that I could not control my anger.

Most Friday afternoons are slow, so we have most of our staff work only every other Friday (we work long days and giving our staff a long weekend every second week is great for morale; we, of course, stagger the staff so we still have half our employees working and available). This Friday was no different, and with no real crisis to work on, I had even more time to consider the whole Audree situation. I thought about firing her, but what would be my justification? She was an amazing worker, and well liked by everyone at the firm. I could give her the 'I-am-the-boss' speech and make a clear line between boss and employee. I eventually decided I would attempt to have a serious and calm conversation with her in which I apologized for my disrespectful outbursts. Content with my plan, I worked on another upcoming campaign as the clock continued to tick.

At 4:25, Audree came into my office, dressed for the first time ever in slacks and a blouse, dressed like me. She extended her hand, "Let's see the letter".

I retrieved the letter and handed it to her. I had read it a thousand times already.

As soon as she saw it was out of its envelope a big smile grew on her face. With a I- knew-it attitude, she purred, "Just couldn't wait, could you Annie girl?" Her facial expression and tone was a mixture of dominance and amusement. "You know what that means then don't you, Annie-girl?"

Ignoring the question, I tried to reason with her, as I had practised all afternoon, "Audree."

"It is Ms. Audree," she corrected me, again her tone condescending.

Deciding the name thing was not the fight worth fighting, I obliged her request, as I attempted to rationalize the situation, "Ms. Audree, I am really sorry about my immature over reaction the other day. It won't happen again."

"You bet it won't," she responded.

I continued, "But I am the boss and...."

I was interrupted a second time by my temporary assistant. Her tone was now like that of a teacher speaking to a kindergarten *****, "Didn't you blast Adam just a couple of hours ago?"

"Yes," I answered, ashamed, feeling the power shift beginning to occur. I attempted to defend myself, "But, I already said I won't let it happen again."

She laughed cynically, "Trust me, Annie. I know your behaviour will improve. I am going to make damn sure of it. So how many spanks should your punishment be?" she pondered.

I instantly wondered how many she originally had in mind. I went from aggressive to defensive as I said, "Audree, but I didn't...."

She raised her voice, her eyes on fire, "If you call me Audree one more time, I will double your punishment."

Desperate not to anger her any more, I again attempted to reason with her, "Ms. Audree, I didn't even see 'open after 4:30' until after I had read the letter."

She shrugged her shoulders and said flippantly, "You didn't follow a direct instruction. What kind of person would I be if I let such clear disregard for orders be ignored?" I remained silent and powerless to this young black girl. Audree confidently walked to the door, announcing as she left, "I will see you in a little while, to deal with your discipline and training. I expect no more of this silly back-talk." Before I had a chance to respond, she gave a smug laugh and walked out the door.

I sat flabbergasted. That did not go at all as I planned. I contemplated leaving early, but my fear of encountering her full wrath scared me. That hour was the longest hour in my life, waiting for what was coming next and desperately trying to find a way out of this situation.

At 5:33, three minutes late, Audree walked in. Without a saying a word, she sat on my love seat. I sat behind my desk, too scared to move. We looked at each other, a battle of wills of sorts. Audree waited patiently for me. I stood my ground at first, wondering if this was all still just an elaborate prank. If it was, Audree was a great actress. Her facial expression did not change while she waited for me to break. I was a bundle of nerves, riddled with anxiety, but I attempted to present myself as calm and collected. All my old insecurities came flooding back and I was no longer the confident successful boss, but rather the shy, geeky insecure teenager I used to be.

Audree finally broke the awkward silence. She instructed, still speaking to me as if I was a *****, "Okay Annie-girl, enough stalling, I don't have all night. You know what you have to do, or are you going to try and back out and act more like a *****?" Those words stung, they angered me, because I based my reputation on always being true to my word. So although I didn't want to, I stood up and walked confidently to Audree, trying to hide my insecurities. As I took each step, my mind yelled at me to run, but , I felt like I had to do this. I stepped next to Audree, and waited. She sighed, "Do I really have to repeat your orders, Annie-girl?"

I stuttered "N-n-no," not wanting to upset her and I unbuttoned my vest. Once discarded, I began to unbuttoned my blouse, my fingers visibly shaking.

Her impatience was ice cold, "Hurry it up Annie-girl. Do you need help undressing?" I didn't think I could be more embarrassed, but such words upped my ***********. I slid my blouse off my shoulders and revealed my padded bra, which brought a smirk to Audree's face. I looked down, avoiding eye contact, and got a good look at her ampler cleavage; her young firm breasts were so much larger than my 34b's. My mind numb, I undid my belt, my slacks button, lowered the zipper and slid my slacks down to my ankles. My *********** burned. I stood helplessly in front of this young black girl. Revealing my underwear, Audree laughed out loud, and through muffled chuckles criticized, "Honey, those panties look like your ************'. A woman your age should be wearing something a whole lot sexier than that or nothing at all". A disturbing chill of fear went up my spine when she compared me to my ***********.

Now came the moment of truth. I hadn't been naked in front of anyone since before I was divorced, and that was almost five years ago. My insecurities overwhelmed me. In the looks department, I feel I am rather average. I used to wear more make-up, but I had been able to ignore my sexual insecurities with my work. I slid my fingers into the waistband of my panties and lowered them to my ankles, as instructed.

I now felt completely vulnerable in front of my temporary assistant. She eyed my breasts, still in their padded bra, before her eyes moved towards my uncovered vagina. She then said obnoxiously clearly grossed out, "Are you kidding me?" I wondered what part of my body she was being critical about. I was desperate to get this over with; I just wanted to get across her knee as quickly as possible. She added, "Have you ever heard of trimming or shaving? You have the hairiest cunt I ever seen!"

I stood still, my cheeks radiating red in shame. I used to trim my pussy when I was married, but had quit looking after it since I quit having sex.

Just when I thought the worst of the *********** was over, it got even worse. The young girl ordered, her tone dripped with disgust, "Give me your blouse to lie across my knees. I don't want that hairy thing touching any of my clothes." Just wanting to get this over with, I handed her my blouse and watched her lay it across her legs. She snapped her fingers like I was her maid, her servant. Understanding what she was requesting, I awkwardly positioned myself on top of her knees. I thought not having to look at her and her not able to see my face would make it easier, but I quickly realized what a compromising position I was in. I was powerless in every sense of the word. So alien to the usual power I had at work. I was the boss, I was always in control.

She pinched me a couple of times and again criticized my body, "Looks like Annie-girl needs to lose a few pounds, doesn't she?"

I meekly gave her the answer she wanted to hear, "Yes."

"Yes, what?" she asked, obviously aggravated.

"Yes, Ms. Audree."

"That's better, Annie-girl," she cooed. She gently rubbed my ass with her soft hands; her hand occasionally moving ever so close to my vagina, which much to my mortification was getting wet. After a minute or two of silence and gentle teasing, she explained, "Here is how it is going to go. Originally I was going to give you 15 swats with the bare hand on each cheek, but since you opened the letter early, I am adding 5 to each cheek. So how many swats are you going to receive, Annie girl?" she asked.

"Twenty on each cheek, Ms. Audree" I answered, completely embarrassed.

"How many do you deserve?" she questioned, testing me.

"Twenty, Ms. Audree," I responded.

"Why twenty?"

"Because I disobeyed, Ms. Audree," I answered, desperately wanting to get this over with, desperately wanting to regain control.

Ms. Audree spanked my bare ass with her hand; the first one hit me hard, the sound of the smack echoed in my office and I let out a pretty loud cry. Audree recommended, "You may want to keep it down, unless you want the cleaning crew to come in and see you in this position."

Desperately afraid that she was right, I concentrated on being quiet as I took my punishment; 39 more to go. I bit my lip and tried to keep quiet, while she continued to spank me. She took her time, letting the aftermath of each slap linger. It seemed that just as I partially recovered from her most recent blow, she would come down with another. Her spanks were also very thorough. She went from the top of my butt to the top of my thighs. After five hits on each cheek, I was crying. By ten I was bawling uncontrollably.

I pleaded with her to stop, "Please Ms Audree, I will never misbehave again."

"If you give even one more hint at disobedience, I will double your punishment, understand Annie-girl?"

There was no way I could take fifty more, I didn't even know how I would do twenty. It seemed impossible. I whimpered, "Yes, Ms. Audree."

"Ask for your punishment, Annie girl," she commanded.

Against every logical fibre of my being, I begged, "Please Ms. Audree, spank my fat white ass."

My own words of self-criticism seemed to work as I felt the hard crack of her palm on my ass. I lost count, tears dropping down my face, the constant burning pain searing my ass cheeks. When she quit, I waited silently, unsure if she was done, praying she wasn't teasing me with more. She rubbed my butt for a couple of minutes; the gently caressing was such a change from the earlier assault.

Suddenly and roughly she pushed me off her lap and I tumbled to the ground. I felt like I was being discarded. Audree stood up, "Annie-girl, you did pretty well for the first time, now clean yourself up. I will see you on Monday."

I was left alone in my office crying, slacks and panties at my ankles, and my blouse all wrinkled after lying on it for over twenty minutes. I tried to pull myself together, but as I started to dress, I couldn't stop crying. It was like something had gone off inside of me and the faucet was broken. I thought back and tried to remember the last time I had cried, and realized it had been many, many years. Finally, around 6:30, I was all cried out. I straightened my clothes out and oddly felt pretty good. I can't explain it, but all the tears had seemed to cleanse me. I felt like my mind was clear, clearer than it had been in a very long time. I almost forgot about my spanking and the complete *********** I had just endured, until I sat down in the seat on the train home. The burn in my ass returned with a vengeance as I sat. I immediately stood up from the pain. I was desperate to get home and soak my ass.

At home that night I had a long, long bubble bath, drank a full bottle of wine, and read a book, as I tried to erase the memories of earlier today.

Oddly, Friday night I slept like a baby, and awoke on Saturday feeling so alive! The day flew by and, as I lay in bed that night, yesterday's happenings flooded back. My ass no longer hurt, but I pondered how I would deal with Audree on Monday. As I reflected something strange started happening to me; I was getting horny. I couldn't control it as flashes of submitting to Audree danced around my head. I imagined seeing her big breasts, touching them, licking them. My breathing got deeper and my hand intuitively went to my vagina, or as Ms. Audree called it, the hairiest cunt she had ever seen. I began to play with myself, but instead of thinking of a nice hard cock pounding me, my thoughts were of me lying over Audree's lap as she spanked my ass. Before I knew it, I was coming like a mad woman, an intense, toe-curling orgasm that I hadn't felt in a long, long time. I passed out or fell into a deep *****, only to awake late on Sunday morning.

After waking and thinking about last night, I realized I had to get control of myself, I don't act like this; I need to regain my life. The first thing tomorrow I would talk to Audree and tell her that Friday was a one time thing and it would not happen again. I would make clear that our relationship was strictly a working relationship: I was the boss and she was the assistant.

I kept myself busy cleaning, which was my Sunday routine and tried not to think about it anymore. I talked on the phone with my ******; I watched the Amazing Race, wishing I could just leave and travel to any of the exotic places the contestants went to. I did well at completely ignoring that tiny voice in my head until I got in bed again. It took all my will power, every last ounce of common sense, to restrain myself from allowing those feelings from last night to creep back inside me. I fought them off, barely, and avoided touching my eager cunt. Unfortunately, the resistance had a cost. I didn't ***** well at all.

IT'S NOT OVER

I got up Monday morning, still with a determined resolve to confront Audree of my decision, even though my pussy was telling me otherwise. I kept repeating the mantra 'mind over matter' in my head.

I was incredibly nervous about standing up to Audree, in the same way I used to be too shy to talk to a boy I liked. I hated rejection, in love and work, and was worried about how she would react to my newfound confidence. I got to work and found a note from Audree,



"I will be in about 10. Your schedule for the day is under this note. Ms Audree".

I particularly noted how she signed her name, Ms. Audree. She had no intention of backing down. This note was on my desk in plain view and could have been seen by other firm members if they had happened to come into my office. That said, the note didn't really say anything extraordinary. I was waiting for a time during the day to talk, but my schedule didn't allow it. We crossed paths a few times throughout the day, but never long enough or private enough to have the conversation I needed to have with her. It was after 5:00 when Audree came into my office. She strolled up to my desk, standing above me and looked down at me, the marketing rule of power in her hands, and asked bluntly, "Well Annie-girl did you get that hairy cunt of yours shaved yet?"

All day my fortitude to end this was strong and focused, yet right there with one well-worded and authoritative question, all my resolve to confront her and tell her this silly charade was over, drained from me. Instead of confidently telling her I was in charge, all I could do was lower my head, avoiding eye contact, and answer in quiet shame, "No, Ms. Audree."

"Why?" she asked, her tone implying I had disobeyed her.

"Sorry, Ms. Audree, but you told me I had a hairy vagina," I began.

"Cunt," she corrected me, "You have a hairy cunt. Vagina is what a twelve year old calls it."

"Sorry, Ms. Audree," I quickly apologized and then reworded, "You told me I had a hairy cunt. I didn't realize that meant I was supposed to shave it."

"You really are like a *****, Annie-girl. You have tantrums like a little girl, you dress like a little girl and apparently you listen like a little girl." I tried to protest, but she kept on talking. "So clearly I have to tell you exactly what you are to do. All I remember saying was that Annie-girl should shave that hairy disgusting cunt of hers. I didn't say when, all I know is that when I tell you to do something it should be done as soon as possible unless I say otherwise, is that clear?"

Not looking up, I whispered, "Yes, Ms. Audree."

"And stop pouting like a five year old. I expect you to look me in the eye when I am talking to you. Understand?" she instructed.

As she was speaking, I began to feel myself getting sexually aroused; I frantically tried to tell my body no, no, no. Why was this happening? I sheepishly looked up into her eyes and she into mine. It felt like she could see right through me, past the powerful facade I presented at work, to the insecure girl I have always been deep down. I responded, as expected, "Yes, Ms. Audree".

Leaning on my desk, her lips so close to me that I could smell her minty breath, "I didn't think you would do it, so I made you an appointment for you to see a friend of mine. She will give you a trim and shave, maybe even a Brazilian. What do you think of that, Annie-girl?"

"I have never had one, Ms Audree," I answered, very nervous to have a complete stranger seeing my inadequacies up close.

"Oh, that is obvious. But don't worry Annie-girl, she is very good at what she does," she reassured me, before adding with a slight smirk, "So it should be relatively painless Annie-girl."

Each time Audree called me Annie-girl, a small piece of my defensive shell withered away. I can't explain it, but hearing the name Annie-girl had me feeling like a little girl who should just do as she is told. The control she had over me seemed to be getting stronger even though I could not even begin to explain why I was letting this happen to me. But instead of even attempting to reason with this young black assistant, I asked, "Ms. Audree, what time is the appointment?"

"It is at 4:30 tomorrow afternoon, Annie-girl. It is already on your schedule."

I couldn't even believe the words I spoke next, "Thank you, Ms. Audree."

This seemed to please her. Her tone softened, "Now let's see if you are a good girl. What other concern have you disobeyed of mine?"

A chill of urgency and panic filled me as I tried to figure out what was the correct answer. I can't believe how important it became to me to please her. The answer popped into my head as I said, "You want me to dress better, Ms. Audree."

"Good girl, Annie-girl, you just may get in my good books yet," she said. She patted me on the head, like I was a puppy, "Well I have to run, you have yourself a good evening Annie-girl; and no playing with that hairy cunt. Brenda will be able to tell if you have so you best obey like a good girl and leave it alone for a night." She turned and left my office, and I was left there yet again trying to puzzle together how this sexual debauchery transpired. Where did it go wrong? Why didn't I stand up for myself? Actually, why didn't I stand up at all? I was going to tell Audree it was over and instead I had apparently agreed to have someone I didn't know shave my pussy. I decided I would have to talk with her tomorrow and let her know in no uncertain terms that this had to end. Feeling confident that I had some of my will back, I packed my things and left for the day.

Although I was convinced there was no way Audree's friend could tell if I had an orgasm, I ignored my pussy that was begging for special attention. Maybe because I didn't pleasure myself and get the sexual release I desperately needed, or maybe because I still couldn't figure out why I had again not stood up to a young nobody assistant, I suffered through another night of tossing and turning. No matter how I tried, I was unable to get the thought of how I would or if I could confront Ms. Audree tomorrow; that was when I realized how deep I was falling, as I noticed even in my thoughts, alone in my bed in seclusion, I was referring to my young, black, 18-year-old assistant, as Ms. Audree.

SHAVED AND...

I arrived at work, as usual earlier than anyone else, hoping to have time to get prepared for my conversation with Audree and to confront her in the morning before the work day really started. This would be the perfect opportunity to end this humiliating situation before it escalated any more. In an attempt to regain my power position and confront Audree, I was dressed as I normally do; gray pinstriped business suit with vest and matching slacks; I felt very confident wearing this. Unfortunately and frustratingly, she didn't show up to work on time. I tried to work, but got very little done as I waited for Audree. Just when I began to wonder why she was late, she was never late, I noticed that I had a message on my voice mail.

"Annie-girl, I am not going to be coming into work today, your schedule is all laid out on my desk, and oh don't forget about your 4:30 appointment today; you will be very, very sorry if you cancel it. I have arranged for a cab to pick you up at about 4:15. Have a wonderful day."

I cursed to myself; I had planned to cancel the appointment, but I didn't even know which salon she had me booked at.

The day was totally messed up; I was on the phone all day long and never got any of my actual work done. I was finding out how much Audree deflected these calls and how without her my day was not even remotely productive. At 4 o'clock I was ready to get out of the office, a nervous wreck from all the annoying phone calls and redundant babble, even if it meant keeping my 4:30 appointment.

The cab, as organized by Ms. Audree, was waiting in front of the office building. During the ride, I started to get the nervous butterflies. I thought about what was going to happen to me or what I was going to allow to happen to me. The drive took an excruciating twenty minutes and brought me to some unknown slum part of town, just past some of the new subdivisions to a desolate old building. The cab stopped and let me out. He explained, with an odd smile on his face, "Ms. Audree has already paid me to wait until you are done. So I will be out here waiting."

"OK," I said, tentatively as I looked at the door to this dilapidated building.

I approached the door, paused, took a deep breath, and entered. I walked in and was greeted by an older black woman dressed in light blue medical clothes. She snapped at me, "So you must be Annie-girl. You are late, and Brenda hates it when her appointments are late."

Here I was, scared out of my wits, and some stranger who is supposed to wax my pussy is pissed because I am late. My annoyance and anger bubbled over and I snapped at the bitchy older woman, "Just tell Brenda I am here."

The older woman gave me a look of contempt, "Follow me, princess."

I held my anger in check as I was led into a room down the hall. I was told to remove my clothes and asked if I would like some herbal tea; which she suggested would help me relax. I agreed that some tea would be very nice and hoped it would release the tension and stress my whole body currently felt. She closed the door and left. I stood there for a couple of minutes trying to find a way out of this awkward situation. Seeing none, I began to undress. From the walls, I began to hear soothing music, which instantly relaxed me as I finished taking off my clothes. I stood in my panties and bra when the older woman returned with my tea. She looked me over thoroughly before suggesting I should undress all the way, otherwise I would only anger Brenda even more. After she shut the door, I sipped the tea and finished undressing. Standing naked in the strange room was incomprehensible. How had I come to this moment?
I surveyed the room and observed that it was painted in a soothing sunset orange. The room had a table, a couple of chairs and a few contraptions whose purposes I couldn't begin to imagine. My tranquility was broken when Brenda suddenly stepped through the door, greatly startling me. I used my left arm to cover my small breasts and I used my right hand to cover my naked hairy vagina. I let out a shocked gasp as I looked at this woman that Audree had sent me to. The black woman's arms were covered in tattoos. She wore a black and white bandana, a short schoolgirl plaid skirt, fishnet stockings, black ankle boots, and a strange white see-through blouse with no sleeves. I could see that both nipples were pierced. I had never been so intimidated or scared in my life.

To make things worse, I was starting to feel a little buzz from the tea, making me a little light headed. She looked me over and asked, "Well honey, what are we doing with you today?"

I looked her in the eye, which I couldn't hold for long before I submissively looked down, "I am here to get," I pointed to my vagina, "to get this waxed."

She laughed and said, "You are here to get your pussy, cunt, twat, waxed?"

"Yes, ma'am," I answered.

"Ma'am," she responded, roaring in laughter, "I don't think I have ever been called ma'am. Audree has really found a keeper with you."

My head stayed down. I wondered how many others Audree had brought here. Was I just some sort of experiment or game to Audree? My fury began to resurface. I decided this was ridiculous and got up to get dressed and leave. It was time to reclaim my dignity. I said politely, "I'm sorry Brenda, there has been some mistake. I need to go now."

She didn't speak at first as she seemed to be assessing my seriousness. My brief moment of confidence withered away as the shy insecure schoolgirl in me returned. "I don't think so. Your Mistress has sent me very clear instructions. You don't want to upset her, do you Annie-girl?"

My mouth dropped open as I looked at her stunned. The word Mistress had never even remotely been on my radar. As I attempted to wrap my head around the word, Brenda asked, this time her tone impatient and powerful, "Should I call your Mistress right now, Annie-girl?"

My head jolted up, my eyes full of fear, "No, ma'am."

"Good, I didn't think so," she said, her tone jubilant, knowing she had won. "Now just so you know, you are scheduled to get the works: pedicure, manicure, and waxing." She moved closer, "Move your hand away from your cunt so I can take a look at just how hairy that cunt of yours is. Audree said it was a complete fucking ********."

Blushing all the way down to my chest, I moved my hand; she let out a hysterical chuckle and shook her head. I stood there even more humiliated. She confirmed Audree's assessment, "Holy **** girl, I don't know if I have ever seen such a hairy twat in my life and I do this for a living."

The burn of *********** continued, "Can we just get this over with?"

"No problem," she responded, and called in Zelda, the older woman.

They started on my feet and did my nails as I kept ******** their unique tea blend; I was feeling decadent and rich. I had never been pampered like this. They were so gentle, massaging my feet and legs. I ended up in a dreamlike state, fading into semi- consciousness because of the mixture of the soft touch, the music and the tea.

By the time they got to my waxing, they asked me a couple of questions to which I said yes, and they began waxing. They did my legs and although each strip they pulled off me was uncomfortable, it wasn't as painful as I thought it would be. They asked me to roll onto my belly and they did the back of my legs and, much to my surprise, my ass. The treatment continued with my armpits and lastly my vagina.

I heard a click and saw a flash and realized they were taking pictures of me. I quickly covered my pussy and breasts until Brenda roared, "Don't you dare fucking move!"

"But," I began, before being interrupted.

"I am taking pictures of your pussy only; no one will know it is you. I just need evidence for when I tell others about this white trash girl with the hairy cunt who had a young black Mistress."

I should have been angry, yet the tea had me relaxed. Defeated and humiliated, I did as I was told.

They spent a few minutes with scissors cutting the longer hairs until they finally were ready for what I heard Brenda say was called the Brazilian. By this time, my whole body was numb from the strange tea, and I watched, detached and distracted, as the hair from my vagina disappeared. Each yank of hair caused a charge of pain to sear through me, but it was quickly replaced with an odd numb feeling.

Eventually they were done and I was as hairless as a newborn baby. My legs, butt, armpits and vagina all had a slight burn. Brenda announced, "We're done Annie-girl, you may get dressed."

As soon as I stood up from the table I had spent two hours on, the burn of my body, especially my vagina, increased. I reached for my panties and Brenda grabbed them away from me. I looked at her, confused, the tea still leaving me in a bit of a tipsy state.

She instructed me strongly, "You will not wear panties for the next few days or it will cause a rash. Plus, I imagine that Mistress Audree wouldn't want her slut wearing panties anyway."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," she said assertively. "Actually, I can't believe she allows you to wear pants. Good sluts wear skirts or dresses so their Mistress has easier and quicker access to their slave's pussy and ass."

I looked at her, disorientated and ashamed at being called a slut and a slave. I was nobody's slave. My anger began to boil again, but wanting to get out of there I reached for my slacks and put them on. The burn returned with the rubbing of the fabric against my legs. I finished getting dressed and watched silently as Brenda said, "I think I will keep these as a souvenir of the white slave with the hairy pussy."

Embarrassed and just wanting to get out of there, I let her keep my panties and handed her my credit card.

She waved it away, "Mistress Audree already paid for it."

Silently, I grabbed my purse and got out of the horrible room, with the horrible people. Happily, the cab was waiting for me outside. As I sat in the cab, there was a knock on the window. The old woman was there with a bag. She handed it to me and said, "This will help with the burning. Be sure to coat your cunt often." I took it and mumbled a thank you, humiliated, never making eye contact with her. During the ride home, I tried not to think of the horrors that awaited me, but oddly as I tried not to think of it, my bare pussy began to have the warm feeling again. What was the matter with me, I thought to myself.

I got home and took a long bubble bath to help ease the burning sensations that were now very prevalent. My body, my mind and my spirit were way past exhaustion, so I got ready for bed.

As I lay in bed, another humiliating day having came to an end, I sighed heavily as the words Mistress, slut and slave tossed in my head.

LOTIONED UP

The next day I woke up late, and oddly rejuvenated, yet sore, a fire burning between my legs. I remembered the bag I received and opened it. It was lotion. I looked at the clock and realized I was running really late. Feeling I didn't have time to put it on then, I put it in my purse. Not being able to wear panties, I decided on a long skirt and thigh highs stockings because pantyhose would have rubbed on my pussy and ass. I felt slightly sexy in stockings and newly shaved, and rushed to work feeling strangely good. It was after eight, way later than I ever got to work, and I began feeling stressed about arriving so late, especially since I left work early yesterday. Upon arriving, Audree was already there and followed me into my office and locked my door. An opportunity to end this was finally at hand. I turned around to speak to my assistant, but her confident smirk as her eyes met mine weakened my resilience. A sense of ********** instead rushed through me.

"So, Annie-girl, did you get your big girl cunt shaved like you were supposed to?" she asked bluntly. My face burned with a now familiar *********** and my embarrassment pulsed through me. I felt my pussy burn at the same time, but not in pain.

Instead of standing up for myself, as I should have done, I answered her question like a good slave should, "Yes, Ms. Audree, I did as I was ordered." Why did I use that word? It just makes me sound even more like a little *****. Audree followed me around my desk and stood next to me, and then patted the top of the desk. I looked at her, unsure of her intentions or expectations.

Patting the desk again, she demanded, "Jump up here and show me, I want to see your big girl cunt." I hesitated a little; the building was full of employees, unlike our late Friday meeting. She said sternly, "Come Annie-girl, don't be shy. I just want to see Brenda's handy work and make sure you did as you were told."

I looked back at the door. Reading my mind, Audree reassured me, "Yes Annie-girl, the door is locked. I will be the only one to see your naked cunt."

Wanting to get this over with, I jumped up onto my desk and started to spread my legs some. But I was wearing a pencil skirt and quickly realized this was not going to work. I looked at her, and she asked, "Is there a problem, Annie-girl?"

"I can't open my legs wide enough, Ms. Audree."

"Well, there is a lesson here, isn't there? You should always wear skirts or dresses that I can get to easily." I looked at her, unsure what to do next. "So I guess you will have to take your skirt off, won't you, Annie-girl?"

This was dangerous. What if someone knocked at my door while I was half naked? I pleaded with her to reconsider her order. She just continued to look at me expectantly. Resignedly, I hopped down, unzipped the side of my skirt and removed it. Oddly, I was way less shy and nervous. I finished and hopped back up on my desk. While I obeyed another command, Ms. Audree sat in my chair, at my desk, and slid up to where my knees were locked together. I could literally feel the power shift in my office; I went from boss to servant. She brought her hands to my knees and put a little pressure on them. She said, approvingly for once, "Thigh high stockings, Annie-girl, that is very grown up of you. I expect you to wear such lingerie under your outfits every day now. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mistress, I mean Ms. Audree," I responded, unable to catch my faux pas in wording.

"Mistress, I like that," she responded, a smile on her face, "but I like Ms. Audree more."

I nodded as she looked up into my eyes. Then, without saying a word, just a look, commanded that I open my legs. I obeyed, like a good girl, doing it slowly, my eyes now shut, not believing what I was doing in my very own office; an office I had worked years to earn. Soon my naked pussy was on display for my young black assistant.

"Oh my, it is quite red. Does it hurt Annie-girl?" I nodded yes, and she asked, seemingly concerned, "Did Brenda give you anything to put on it? When was the last time you put on?"


"Yes, she did. But I haven't had a chance to put any on yet, Ms Audree," I replied.

"You are a silly little girl," she scolded, "Don't you know you have to look after your privates?"

I felt ashamed. I never have been able to handle criticism or scolding well.

"Did you bring it with you, Annie-girl?"

"Yes, it is in my purse," I said, pointing to the table where I put it down earlier.

She retrieved the lotion, and then sat looking at me. Then, her voice soft like a mommy talking to her ***** with a boo-boo, "Here, let me put some of this cream on for you." Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse or any more humiliating, I realized she was going to administer the lotion to my swollen red privates. As she was applying the lotion, I oddly started to feel really funny inside, my head spinning. The excitement that she was clearly arousing in me was impossible to hide. The whole time she was applying a generous amount of lotion on my vagina, she had a devious smirk on her face. She was clearly enjoying the power she had over me, her boss. She was talking the whole time, although I only remember parts, since I was greatly distracted by the tingle below, "Oh Annie-girl, your swollen pussy lips look so much better now, your hard clit looks so inviting, so completely tasty. Don't you feel better now that you don't have a big hairy freak-show cunt anymore, Annie-girl? Now you have a cute, sweet, ripe good girl pussy." I was getting more flushed and excited, both from her naughty words and her gentle rubbing. Each time her fingers touched my pussy lips or clit, I shook slightly, my pussy begging for more focused attention.

I have fought my whole life to be my own woman, to be a strong, determined, successful woman, and here I was legs spread on my desk, in front of my temporary assistant, now being reduced to being an insecure little girl again. It was stirring something erotic and sensual from deep inside my mind and body, something I had not felt in years. I realized officially, at this new degrading low, as absurd as it sounded, I had completely lost control. Ms Audree's finger slipped between my now wet pussy lips, not going inside my canal, just lingering in perpetual tease. I ************* moved my ass forward, trying to get her finger in me. My only focus was now only to come.

She moved her finger away, "Annie-girl, do you really want me to finger fuck you on your desk?" I gasped, immediately brought back to reality, my face burning in shame. "You are really, really wet, Annie-girl, but you better get dressed now. You have a very important meeting in about 10 minutes with Mrs. Williams from HHC, that new clothing firm we have been trying to land."

Attempting to talk business-like and in control, I sat awkwardly on my desk, legs spread open, pussy lathered in lotion, "Oh yes, do you have the file ready, Ms Audree?"

"Yes, you are sitting on it, Annie-girl. I hope I didn't get any lotion on it," she paused, before adding with obvious implication, "or anything else." She winked at me and opened the door before I had even begun to put my skirt back on. There I was still sitting on the desk without my skirt on, door open. I could hear people out in the reception area. Embarrassed and in full panic mode, worried about what if Mrs. Williams was early, I jumped off my desk and quickly put my skirt back on, just before Ms Audree brought Mrs. Williams in for the meeting.

Audree gave me an odd smile when she saw my flushed face and rattled look. I had a hard time concentrating during the meeting and was thankful that Audree assisted by answering many of Mrs. Williams' questions and concerns. Thankfully, I made it through the meeting without any sort of distraction, and by the end of it I felt confident we were close to closing the deal. But my apprehension and feeling how close it had been to getting caught had me upset. A client, a very important client, could have seen me naked. That was way too close a call for me. This had to end.

Still, for the rest of the day while trying to keep myself busy with work, I was greatly distracted with memories and images of how good I felt when Ms. Audree was applying the lotion to my aching pussy. Other than myself, no one had touched me down there in a very, very long time, and it had felt so nice; but it was another woman that had touched me, a young black 18-year-old assistant at that, who had me feeling all excited about being touched and now wanting more. Other than one brief college ******* evening of touching and fingering, I had never even really thought about another woman. Yet, now I couldn't get the image of Ms. Audree between my legs out of my head. It refused to leave, nor did the itching in my vagina.

At the end of the day, I found a note and a little zip lock bag that had my lotion in it. The note read:

Annie-girl,



This should be enough for tonight. I have the rest and will apply it again in the morning. Ms. Audree.

After I read the note, an absurd rush of pleasure went right to my pussy, thinking that she would be touching me again in the morning. This should have been problematic, especially after today's very close call, but instead I got intensely excited. I couldn't explain the excitement that I was feeling. I wondered what was wrong with me, wanting this young woman touching me. Yet, I couldn't resist the obvious fact that juice was leaking out of me like crazy. I couldn't take it anymore, I had to come. I lowered my skirt to my ankles, my desk hiding my compromising position. Although my pussy region was incredibly tender, I ignored the pain as I rubbed myself to an orgasm at my desk, the entire time thinking about Ms. Audree touching me, teasing me, pleasing me, and licking me. I sat in a small pool of my own cum as I recovered from an amazingly powerful orgasm. Now thinking straight, I pulled up my skirt and spent a late night at work, now focused on my job. I was amazed at how rejuvenated and focused I had become after I cleansed myself with an orgasm.

When I got home at 9:30, I had another bubble bath and went to bed. Unlike the previous couple of nights, I slept like a baby, my mind a blank slate.

GOOD VIBRATIONS

Upon waking, my thoughts returned to yesterday. I was torn. On the one hand, yesterday was too close for comfort...what if Mrs. Williams had come in fifteen seconds earlier? On the other hand, I had had my most productive work-time ever last night and my best ***** in years.

Getting ready for work that morning, I spent more time than I usual. I put on a one-piece blue dress, a hip black belt and thigh high stockings. I again obeyed Brenda's suggestion to not wear underwear.

By the time I headed for work, I was already running slightly late, so I didn't have much time to consider how to deal with this 'Ms. Audree' situation. The problem was, every time I tried, thoughts of her touching me floated in my head instead. Each time I tried to get the images out of my head, they refused to leave. In fact, they had the effect of making my pussy get that wet, needy feel again. Luckily, I arrived at work just then, flushed and needing to come.

Ms. Audree was not at her reception desk when I arrived. As horny as I felt, I thought immediately, 'Perfect! I can hit the restroom to attend to my pussy and calm down this needy desire. First I'll just set this file on my desk.' My heart sank as soon as I entered my office. There sat Audree, at my desk, waiting. My uncomfortable wetness, however, trumped my surprise. "Ms. Audree, if you don't mind, I really do need to use the restroom before we begin."

Ms. Audree smiled widely, "No problem, Annie-girl, we got some time."

As I went into the bathroom, I wondered why I had asked my assistant permission to use the restroom. Wanting to have an orgasm, but knowing I didn't have time, I dried my pussy region as best I could with paper towels. Back in my office, I felt myself blushing, assuming and perhaps anticipating what was about to happen to me again.

Yet, today I wanted to do it; actually more accurately I needed to do it. But I sure didn't want to let on to Ms. Audree that I was not in control of my sexual emotions and desires. I could not let her know that the thought of her touching me made me so horny I couldn't think straight.

So as I returned to my desk, Ms. Audree snapped her fingers and pointed to my desk. This time, my attire was more convenient for both easy access and quicker recovery. Same as yesterday, I hopped up onto my desk, a little more confident and a little less embarrassed than yesterday. Without instruction this time, I pulled up my dress and spread my stocking covered legs to present my shaved pussy to Ms. Audree.
She seemed pleased by my compliance as she peered between my legs and at my naked cunt. After a few seconds of utter silence, Audree said, "Oh, I left the lotion in my purse, I will be right back." As she walked to the door, she paused and demanded, "Don't you dare move a muscle, Annie-girl." Purposefully, she left the door partially open.

I was mortified; this was a whole new level of risk and obedience. There I was, sitting on my desk, my dress up to my waist; legs spread wide open, and door partially open. I could hear rumblings from the outer office stirring. It seemed like forever for Audree to return. I was a nervous wreck, worried that another employee might walk into my office and catch me in this humiliating, submissive situation. How would I explain it? How could I explain it? Even so, as nervous as I was, my pussy was getting excited again. I could feel the juices warming up when she finally returned.

Thankfully, she closed and locked the door. She sat in my chair and was again between my legs. Without any talk, she started to apply the lotion. After only a minute of Ms. Audree's soft touch, her cell phone rang. She abruptly stopped and took the call. Ignoring me completely, she began having a conversation as if I was not there. I was trying to sit patiently, though desperate to have the young girl's touch back between my legs. Looking at her between my legs, the feelings in my pussy started to take over my body. I felt my breathing getting tougher to control and my nipples harden. My pussy lips ************* opened slightly. I desperately tried to control myself, afraid I might leak some of my juices on my desk, in front of my black assistant. Just as desperately, I wanted her gentle touch back on my cunt. The embarrassment of sitting this long, like a loyal puppy dog, was humiliating. She moved farther away as she began talking even more quietly, clearly not wanting me eavesdropping.

Even though I felt completely degraded, my legs spread wide in front of this beautiful black girl had me so excited that I had to do something about it. I began playing with myself. I tried to do it quietly so she would not see the effect she had on me, the desperation of my actions to masturbate on my desk like a little slut. As I brought myself closer to climax, I noticed a scent and realized the scent was me. My pussy scent had begun to permeate the air. I was horrified. If I could smell myself, I was sure must have been able to smell it too while her face had been between my legs. Yet as horrified as I was, the fire between my legs was more urgent. My breathing began to pick up when I heard the harsh voice of Audree, "Are you fucking kidding me? I leave you for one minute and you fucking try to get off? What kind of slut are you?" She was not happy with me at all.

My hand instinctively moved away from my ravished pussy as I looked down, avoiding eye contact, my shame hitting another all-time low.

"Tiara, I will have to call you back, my Annie-girl here needs some serious discipline." She then turned to me "Where is your phone?"

I couldn't fathom why she would need my phone or what she could possibly have in store for me. I pointed to my purse. She took out my phone, flipped it open and punched some buttons. Walking over to me, she asked, "So you need to come, Annie-girl?"

"Yes," I answered ashamed and horny.

"Yes, what?" she asked, clearly perturbed.

"Yes, Ms. Audree," I quickly corrected.

"Beg me to let you come," she ordered, amused.

I looked at her, not knowing how to even begin to beg, "Please, Ms. Audree, I need to cum so badly."

"That was pretty weak, Annie-girl, you will have to do better than that to convince me you deserve to come," she explained.

My cunt doing all my talking, I begged, "Ms. Audree, please allow your slave to cum. I will do anything, Mistress. You own me. Just please, I can't take it much longer."

In a flash, her hand went to my cunt and she inserted my phone. I gasped.

She looked at me amused as she grabbed her own phone and dialled. Who the Hell could she be calling? In a couple of seconds I got my answer. My phone began vibrating inside me. I can't even begin to explain how thrilling the vibrating sensation inside me felt. I let out a loud moan when the first vibration hit, a muffled scream during the second, and I came like a white trash whore on the third. When I opened my eyes, I saw a smiling Audree and her Iphone. She was either videotaping my descent to whoredom or taking pictures. Either way I was mortified beyond words, but could do nothing but allow the orgasm to complete its journey through my body.

When my orgasm subsided, Ms. Audree stopped taping, which I concluded was what she was doing, and reached for the lotion. She ordered, "You may take the phone out of your cunt, Annie-girl." I obeyed, thankful for such permission. I pulled out my phone and it dripped with my cunt cum. Audree laughed, "You really are a flooder, aren't you, Annie-girl?"

"I guess," I said, ashamed once again.

As she got ready to leave, she gave me permission to get dressed, complimented me on my better choice of clothes and reminded me, "Just remember what you said, my Annie-girl. You would do anything. ANYTHING."

I didn't even realize I had said such words, but in the horny state I was in, I am sure I did. But what made me happy was the rare compliment she had given me. She liked my clothing choice.

She pressed a button on her phone and began talking as she left my office, "Hi Tiara. You will not believe what my boss just did." Her amused voice faded as she left my office. I went to my washroom and dried up my soaked vagina as best I could. I also tried to clean my phone, but I have to admit it was astonishingly hard to get the smell of pussy juice off a phone. I finally returned to work, surprisingly focused, having had a great big orgasm.

My productivity was astonishing and my ideas vibrant as I worked like an ant pleasing her queen all day. I saw Ms. Audree a few times throughout the day, but it was all business. Again as I left there was a note and a packet of lotion for that evening and again the suggestion that she would see me in the morning.

I left work, hopped on the train and headed home. As I replayed the morning over and over in my head, my pussy started to get wet. My cell rang. I was surprised to see it was Audree. She had never phoned me after hours before. There were no pleasantries, just a question, "Does your phone still smell like cunt?"

Sniffing the phone, which was a very strange thing to do on a subway train, I realized it still did. "Yes, Ms. Audree," I answered, slightly embarrassed.

"When you get home, I expect you to fuck yourself to at least two orgasms. Is that understood, Annie-girl?"

"Yes, Ms. Audree," I replied, actually liking a task she gave for once.

"Please tell me exactly what you plan to do when you get home, Annie-girl," she ordered.

I realized what she was doing. She wanted me to speak out loud on the train my ********** to her. I looked around the crowded subway train. Beside me was a high school boy, across from me an elderly grandma, and beside her a Chinese woman. I also noticed a couple middle-aged men standing in the aisle. I thought that they may or may not be near enough to hear my conversation. I shrugged, figuring who cares what these strangers heard me say and I went ahead and explained my plan for when I returned home. "Ms. Audree, I plan to strip myself naked, rush up to my room, grab my seven inch black dildo and shove it in my pussy. I also plan to grab my blue vibe and use it to tease my swollen clit as I fuck myself silly."

I heard a shocked gasp from the boy beside me. Looking up, I saw the elderly women looking at me with complete disdain. Ms. Audree complimented, "You are turning into a good white slut, Annie-girl."

I couldn't believe the words that came out of mouth next, "Thank you, Ms. Audree."

"One last thing, Annie-girl," she began.

"Yes, Ms. Audree," I nervously queried.

"I want you to flash at least one woman on the train before you get off, understood?"

"Yes, Ms. Audree," I responded, horrified by the new task.

She finished our conversation with a quick goodnight and hung up on me. I put mine away and kept my head down, avoiding any sort of awkward eye contact. I still had not fulfilled my task when I only had one stop left. Across the row, a pretty redhead, wearing a blue skirt, black pantyhose and pumps was reading a book. Luckily the boy was now gone. When I was only a few seconds from my stop, I opened my legs, swiftly lifted up my skirt and coughed. The redhead, as well as a couple of the men, looked at me, seeing my naked treasure. I kept my eyes on the redhead, a nervous smile on my face. Her mouth dropped slightly with shock. I held my slut pose for about five seconds and as the train slowed down, I abruptly stood up, letting my dress hide my cunt. I gave one last look at the redhead and winked. Her eyes never left me, but I couldn't tell if she was turned on or repulsed by what she had seen.

As I exited the train, one of the middle-aged men said aggressively, "If you need a real cock, I would be more than happy to oblige."

My face instantly turned red with embarrassment over the awkward situation I was now in. I ignored him and felt his hand pinch my ass. I kept walking, anxious to get off the train and away from this creepy man. Once off the train, I looked back and saw him wink as the train began to move again. Letting the pervert fade from memory, I replayed what I had just done. I had spread my legs and flashed a woman on a train...then I had winked at her. Where had that aggressiveness and forwardness come from? My pussy was so damp, I could feel it trickle down my legs as I walked the few blocks home from the train station.

By the time I got to my home, I was a horny mess. Once inside, all I could think about was completing Ms. Audree's orders and coming again. I was so horny, I removed my skirt and heels at the door and undressed on my way to the bedroom, ending up on my bed dressed only in thigh high stockings. I reached into my night-stand and grabbed both my blue vibrator and my black dildo. Usually I have to really get myself worked up to get the big black dildo inside me, but today my pussy was so lubed up already that the fuck-toy was easily engulfed by my love canal. Once all seven inches filled me, I turned on my thin high-powered vibe and allowed it to tease my clit. So horny from this strange day of **********, from this crazy moment of exhibitionism, it took only seconds for me to have my second orgasm of the day. I didn't let it subside. I held the vibe to my clit and began pumping the dildo in and out of my hot cunt. I fucked myself hard and fast as I replayed the morning in my head. The thrill of submitting to Audree was taking over my free will and overtaking my duty as a boss. Yet, that no longer mattered to me, as I brought myself to a second, third and fourth mind-blowing orgasms. I fell a***** exhausted from my multiple orgasms, dripping in sweat. I awoke about 11. I ate a little, read a couple of chapters of the novel I had been neglecting, and went back to bed, wondering what the Hell I was becoming. I hadn't come like that or had that many orgasms ever. I put lotion on my still tender pussy region and fell back a*****, oddly content.

HUMILIATED BY OTHERS

The following morning, I woke up before my alarm went off. After a quick shower, I got dressed for the day. It was Friday, and I assumed that meant that Ms. Audree would be spanking me again. The ********** to her had somehow turned me on this week, but the thought of her spanking me again, causing such pain, was not even remotely exciting. I looked in my closet and cursed my rather limited selection of dresses and skirts. I would have to go shopping this weekend. I eventually picked a blue blouse, my favourite colour, a black leather skirt, something I had never worn to work before, and beige thigh high stockings, my last clean pair. I added stockings to my mental list as I headed out the door.

Against my will, on the way to work I began to get excited about having my young, black, sexy, assistant lathering my privates with lotion. I was a little more composed than yesterday, beginning to accept the fact that it was going to happen and that I secretly wanted it to. As I got off the train and started walking to the office, about a five minute walk, I began to feel myself leaking; my juices ran to the top of my thigh highs stockings. What the fuck is a matter with me? Why am I getting so excited about having her treat me this way? I arrived earlier than Ms. Audree and went straight to my office's restroom to attempt to dry myself again. After drying my pussy, I returned to my desk. I looked for a note and found none, so I sat at my desk and waited for her arrival. I attempted to do some work, but was just too distracted about the possibilities of what lay ahead to be productive.

A half hour after she should have arrived, I received a telephone call from Ms. Audree. She said, sounded sincerely apologetic, "Sorry Annie-girl, but I completely forgot I had a 9 o'clock appointment today. I dropped the lotion off at the security desk for the building. You can pick it up there. Sorry but have to run, see you after lunch, Annie-girl."


I reluctantly, annoyed and disappointed, went down to the main lobby to pick up the package Ms. Audree had left for me. As the elevator descended I began to realize this was a blessing. Now I didn't have to worry about any sort of potential public ***********. I reached the security desk to retrieve package. At the desk was a large black woman, about 5'10", maybe 175. She had coal black eyes and ruby red lips. She looked like someone you would not want to mess with.


I told her politely that Ms. Audree had dropped something off for me.

She asked, "Ms. Audree, now who would that be?"


I cursed to myself as I realized my error, "Oh, Audree Williams, Ma'am."

"And why do you call her by that name?" she asked, curiously.

I blushed, embarrassed by the question, but ********* to give the truthful answer. I hesitated as I considered my lie, before I finally answered, "It is a sign of respect, just as I call you, Ma'am."


"Okay, it just seems funny that an older woman like you would be addressing a younger woman so properly," she said, her tone still probing. "By the way, I am Ms. Jones."


"Hello, Ms Jones, I guess it is just a habit I picked up that is hard to break. Blame my stay at home, Leave it to Beaver ******," I joked.

Ms. Jones laughed back and asked, "And who might you be?"

"I am Ann Pennington, Ma'am,"

She rubbed her chin, "Ann, you say. You are one of the executives on the 18th floor aren't you?"

"Yes", I answered.

She picked up my bottle of lotion, and looked at the envelope attached to it. A peculiar smirk appeared as she read the name, "Annie-girl, is that you?"


I blushed again, and stated in a low voice, "Yes, that is me, Ms. Jones."


Trying to make sense of it all, she clarified, "So you call Audree, Ms. Audree and she calls you Annie-girl?" She started to laugh and I began to wonder if she was beginning to put two and two together. She said, clearly toying with me and amused by the whole situation, "Okay, I will just need to hear you say who you are one more time and I can give you your lotion, okay?"

Angry and just wanting to leave, I barked out a little louder than I wanted too, "I am Annie-girl. Now give me my stuff, Ms. Jones."

"Didn't Ms. Audree teach you manners? You need to say the magic words, Annie-girl!!" Ms Jones stated in a condescending voice. It was obvious that she knew of my submissive weakness, otherwise she would not have been playing such a game with a high-powered executive who could have her fired in a heartbeat.


Furious now and with gritted teeth, "Ms. Jones, may I please have my bottle of lotion?"

"Here you are Annie-girl." She handed me the bottle, with a smug look and a raised eyebrow.


I grabbed it rudely from her hand and walked off, thinking how embarrassing that all was and what a fucking bitch the security guard was. Firing her popped into my head, but I assumed that Ms. Audree would punish me for such a reaction. Back in the elevator, I read the note.

Dear Annie-girl,

Sorry I could not be there to personally look after your cunt for you. The good news is I have a friend who is willing to help. Go to the bookstore across the street and ask for Tiara. She will be expecting you.



Ms. Audree

As the elevator door opened at my floor, I just stood, immobile. Again I told myself this whole thing had gone too far. Not only that, it was getting worse. I considered just ignoring the instructions. Instead I pressed the button for the lobby and descended back down.

As I walked past the security desk, Ms. Jones called out, "Back so soon, Annie-girl?" The tone in her voice was an odd mix of flirting and sarcasm.

I ignored her and walked past the lobby and out into the fresh air. I crossed the street and stopped in front of the bookstore. I hesitated, wanting to disobey, but deathly scared to. I took a deep breath and walked into the bookstore. The store was seemingly empty, having just opened a few minutes ago. I hoped the woman who now approached was not Tiara. She looked about my age, but extremely overweight. Asking for Tiara, I was relieved when she pointed to the back of the store. I found the door mark 'Manager' and knocked. "Come in," a voice bellowed.

The girl inside was outrageously beautiful. She had dark brown eyes, long wavy black hair with red streaks. Like Ms. Audree, she also had massive round breasts. She looked to be a bit older, maybe 19, but definitely too young to be Manager of a bookstore. I awkwardly asked, "Are you Tiara?"

She smiled with an air of confidence, "And you must be Annie?"

I was relieved she hadn't called me Annie-girl. Still I acted like a shy school girl waiting for a boy to ask her out with my simple "Yes."

"And what can I do for you?" she asked, her confident smirk telling me she already knew why I was there.

"Ms. Audree sent me." I sounded more resigned than I wanted.

"Why?" she asked, as she looked at me, ******* me to say what I needed her to do.

Utterly ********* as a woman, I whispered, "I need you to put cream on my vagina."

"Your what?" she asked, pretending to not hear me.

"My vagina," I repeated.

She laughed. "Don't you mean cunt?"

"Yes, my cunt," I stammered. I just wanted this nightmare to end.

"Well get out of that skirt, slut. I don't have all day," she instructed as if I was an inconvenience to her day.

I slipped off my skirt, not once looking at the beautiful black girl.

"No panties, thigh high stockings, shaved cunt, Audree really has you trained well," she said approvingly. I kept my head down and submissively waited instructions. She walked over to me and took the lotion from my hand. She whispered in my ear, "You are a very good slave, aren't you?" Her hot breath sending pleasure shivers through my entire body.

"Yes, ma'am."

"You get wet by just obeying orders, don't you?" she questioned, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, my pussy getting excited, the answer a humiliating truth.

She squeezed my ass, "Do you need to come?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She walked back to her desk, grabbed a banana and handed it to me. My pussy knew what she intended it for. My brain did not. I just stared at it for some time, both disgusted and excited. Finally and without any further direction, I slid it into my vagina. I let out a moan of pleasure as I began fucking myself. I closed my eyes to avoid the *********** of seeing the black beauty watching me. I felt her hands on my ass as she returned to my ear. As I continued fucking myself, Tiara kept squeezing my ass while also biting, nibbling and licking my ear. Then she called me names.

I was too wrapped up with my banana-fucking to remember all she called me, but I do recall bits and pieces. She called me a lesbian slut, Audree's property and a fruit fucker. What I have committed to memory was her soft touch on my ass and the way she fucked my ear with her tongue and teeth. Standing up made it harder to come, but between the long curved fruit, Tiara's lips and hands, and her nasty verbal ***** of me, I came like a nasty slut. My legs buckled out of weakness and Tiara had to catch me from tumbling. As I silently shook, Tiara held me tightly while continuing the verbal degrading. "Fuck, you are a whore, fucking yourself in front of a stranger with a banana. Who does that?" My orgasmic bliss instantly changed to sheer shame from her harsh, but true, words.

My words in response were outrageous as I ignored her question and instead thanked her for the orgasm. She let out a harsh laugh. Then she let me go and demanded I sit on her couch, legs spread, the banana still in me. She knelt down between my legs and looked at my just fucked pussy with a banana sticking out of it. To my surprise, instead of taking the banana out, she began moving it in and out furiously. After a few quick hard thrusts, I got excited all over again. My moans got louder as she thrust the yellow fruit in and out of my dripping wet pussy. Just as I was getting close to my second orgasm in a few minutes, she pulled it out. I moaned, "Noooooo."

She spanked my naked pussy hard, "No more coming until you see your Mistress, slut." I instantly tried to focus on not coming, while Audree's friend coated my pussy with lotion. When she was done, she tossed me my skirt and suggested I get dressed. I quickly put my leather skirt back on, desperate to get out of her office and away from the stranger's condescending looks. Just as I was leaving she stopped me, "One last thing, dyke."

I looked into her blue eyes and waited for whatever else she had in store for me. She handed me the banana that had been my personal fuck-toy and ordered, "Would you please give this to Ms. Jones on your way back to the office."

Worry besieged me as I realized her intentions. I took the banana, but asked, like a ***** would if asked to clean up their toys, "Do I have to?"

She smirked, "What do you think, slut?"

Crushed past the point of return or recovery and wanting to tell her to fuck off, I chickened out, just like every other time, "I will obey, ma'am."

"Good girl," she cooed, and slapped me on the ass as she added, "Now get the hell out of here, slut."

I finally heard an order I liked and hightailed it out of her office and out of the store. I returned to my office building and walked over to Ms. Jones. I handed her the sticky fruit without a word.

She looked at it like it was toxic, "And what is this for?"

I ignored her question as I speedily left for the elevator. Upon returning to my office, I broke down in tears. Was there no end to the *********** I had to endure? After a lengthy cry, I cleaned myself up and got prepared for my 2 o'clock meeting. It was an important meeting and I had to get back into my business mindset. As soon as I started working, all my sexual needs and ***********s faded and I was able to stay on task all morning and through the meeting. I didn't once think about the fact that I was a few hours away from another spanking.

THE SECOND SPANKING

By the time I was finished with my meeting I was exhausted. It went well, but we were still early into the wooing process. I got back to my office at ten minutes to four and saw a banana on my desk. Beside it was a cucumber. Under the fruit and vegetable were two envelopes: a small white one and a big brown one. I sighed as I could only imagine what was going to happen next. As I sat down to read the letter, my pussy tingled with anticipation. I made sure to read the outside of the envelopes first and thankful that I did, as they were numbered one and two.

I opened the white envelope first and it was, as expected, a letter from Ms. Audree.

Dear Annie-girl,

I am very happy with my girl. You obeyed like a good girl should. Your training is going quite well, as you have controlled your outbursts quite well. That said, you raised your voice at Ms. Jones, and that just can't happen. You must be able to maintain a certain level of decorum at ALL times. I may be late, as I am meeting Tiara for cocktails. I have left you a story for you to read. It should get you nice and ready for your spanking. No matter how late I am, do not dare leave or I will triple your spanks. Unless of course, you want more spanks.



Ms. Audree

I didn't open the other envelope right away, determined to stay focused and work as long as I could. I did a pretty good job ignoring the brown envelope for over an hour, only glancing towards it every now and then. But they say curiosity killed the cat and in my case curiosity definitely roused the kitty.

I tore opened the large envelope and saw it was a story printed from a website called Literotica. The first story was called Lesbian MILF Seductress and as I read it I was in awe of the power the young girl had over a married ******. She slowly took the ****** from an upstanding citizen to an eager slut begging to please the 18-year-old in front of her own ********. As soon as I finished the story, my skirt hit the floor, and I frigged myself to an orgasm, I wondered why she would leave me this story. I wasn't a MILF; the MILF in this story was a librarian and I was a marketing manager; the young seductress was a student and Audree was my employee. As I chewed on this, still naked from the waist down, and still horny, I grabbed the cucumber and used it as a hard cock. Was her end goal to make me a lesbian? That was what happened in the story she left me.

I fucked myself with the vegetable as images of me sucking on Audree's massive breasts and me between her creamy chocolate legs flashed in my brain. I was pumping the cucumber in and out furiously when I heard Audree's voice break me from my erotic bliss, "Well, apparently you are excited about your spanking, Annie-girl."

I looked up, the cucumber deep in me, to see Audree and Tiara in my office. Audree walked over to the couch, as did Tiara, and they both sat down. She gave me a look that implied I knew what I was supposed to do. The problem was my cunt was soaking wet, my juices dripping out of me. "Ms. Audree, can I please go to the washroom and clean up first?"

"Why?" she asked, I assumed knowing the answer but wanting to hear me say it. Again showing the power she had over me.

"I am wet," I responded, ashamed.

"I see," she said, "Well I think if someone looks like a slut, and acts like a slut, then she probably is a slut, isn't she Tiara?"

Tiara hardly able to control herself, "That would be a logical assumption to make."

"Get your ass over here now, Annie-girl," Ms. Audree commanded.

I pulled the cucumber out of me, put it on my desk and shyly walked over to her and her friend. She noticed, "Your rash seems to be almost gone, Annie-girl."

"Yes, Ms. Audree," I agreed.

"Is that your cum, dripping down your leg?" she asked.

"Yes," I confirmed, mortified.

"Well I can't have your fuck juice dripping on me while you are punished, can I, Annie-girl?"

"No, Miss Audree," I responded.

"Take off your blouse, Annie-girl," Ms. Audree ordered.

Wanting to get this over with, I obeyed, my hands way less nervous than a week ago, even with a spectator. Ms. Audree took my blouse and used one sleeve to clean my pussy with it. She then put my blouse on top of her legs and patted her legs, as she would for a puppy she wanted on her lap. I continued to avoid eye contact with either, as I laid myself over Ms. Audree's lap; Tiara moved closer so my head was now on her leg as well. Ms. Audree explained. "Since you were a good girl overall, I am only going to punish you with one extra slap, for your outburst at Ms. Jones." As she explained the amount of spanks I was to receive, she caressed my ass gently; creating a striking contrast when her first slap made contact with my skin. Just like last time, I let out a loud yelp, surprised by the sudden contact. Also like last time, Ms. Audree reminded me I should try to control my noises. Unlike last time, the first ten slaps came hard and fast, almost like a machine gun. A searing pain encompassed my ass, not remotely fading away. Ms. Audree spoke to Tiara as if I was not there, "See how good she sits. She is such a good little girl. I think she actually likes the spanking."

Tiara purred, "Oh, I think you are right."

Suddenly, her hand contacted my ass and I let out a wail, as I was not ready for the slap. They continued talking throughout my next four slaps as if I was not there. Each slap came without warning and in no consistent pattern, leading to me making uncontrollable hyena like sounds. It was so much more embarrassing when they treated me as invisible.

Ms. Audree asked Tiara, "Do you want to do the honours of the last slap?"

"May I?" Tiara asked, her voice shrill with excitement, which, of course, had me in a bundle of nerves.

"Of course," Ms. Audree said, "She won't disobey you or any of my friends." My eyes went wide when I heard her say any of her friends, but didn't move an inch. "Turn around, Annie --girl, let Tiara get a good look at your white ass."

*********, I obeyed, turning around so my naked, red, ass was in complete vulnerable display for this girl I met just hours ago. She spent a few minutes rubbing my ass, allowing her finger to glide down the crack of my ass, lingering as if she had an ulterior motive for my asshole, before gliding further down. Instinctively, I opened my legs a bit to allow her access to my pussy, which I was hoping she would play with. I couldn't explain it, but I was on the brink of an orgasm without having my pussy touched.

I saw Ms. Audree leave for a second and return with the cucumber I had earlier used to please myself. She handed it to Tiara, who asked me, "Do you want to come, slut?"

I hated being called slut, but my need to come was more important than my dignity. I whimpered, "Yes, very badly."

"Well I will let you come, by fucking your white trash cunt with this cucumber, while I slap your ass until you come. All you have to do is ask," she informed me.

The offer was made to humiliate me even further, but I had already hit rock bottom in my mind, so even though I only had one more slap to endure, I asked for more, surprising even myself with my the vulgar words that flew out of my mouth, "Please fuck my whore cunt, treat me like your little plaything and spank me until I explode."

A spank shook my being and the pain was quickly contradicted by the deep thrust of the thick, long, green vegetable. Almost simultaneously I screamed in pain and then pleasure. Showing no mercy, she used one hand to constantly slap my ass, while she used the other to fuck my cunt. It took less than a minute for me to come like a whore on the lap of a stranger. It was humiliating, degrading and exhilarating. For being so completely controlled, I felt ironically free. I screamed like a banshee as my orgasm exploded through me. She kept spanking me and fucking me as I continued to have the pleasure trembles. I don't know how many spanks I ended up with, but as the orgasm finished its pleasure principle through me, the harsh burn returned. She stopped spanking me and pulled the cucumber out. I was allowed to stand up, and as I did, my whole body was a mixture of pain and pleasure.

I looked at Tiara briefly and saw her lick the cucumber. She smiled, "Not bad, for white trash cunt."

I should have been appalled at being called white trash, but the first thing that popped into my head was that she thought I tasted good.

As I stood there relatively naked still, both girls stood up. As they were about to leave, Ms. Audree added, "You can come as many times as you wish this weekend, my Annie-girl, but only with food. I will see you on Tuesday," and walked out without another word. I stood alone in a stupor, replaying her words, when she returned and added, "And you cannot use bananas or cucumbers. Nor can you use any food more than once." She left again, this time for good, as I continued to stand there incapable of movement, for at least a minute, my ass still on fire, before finally getting dressed. My blouse was quite wet with my juices, but I had to put it on as it was all I had. The train ride home could be interesting, I thought to myself.

I quickly got my stuff together and headed out; it was going to be a long weekend. I was driving up to go to a wedding in the morning. I shivered as I considered the four-hour drive on my battered ass. I sighed and headed for the train. As I waited for the train to arrive, anxiety filled me as I wondered what I would do if I saw the redheaded beauty from yesterday. Luckily, I did not encounter her on the train, nor any other of yesterday's witnesses of my sexual debauchery.

The night consisted of a long bubble bath, using my pussy rash cream on my ass and an early bedtime. I didn't toss and turn, not because I slept well, but rather because each movement I made sent a needle-like pain that resonated for minutes after I triggered it. I eventually did fade into *******, my mind considering what other foods could get me off.