coercion

Sitting crunched up in a tight ball in the armchair, knees hugged to chest, chin on knees, thumb wedged firmly in mouth, his eighteen-year-old daughter looked every bit the pouty little sulkmonster she’d been as a tantrum-prone toddler. From the hallway he looked on dotingly. His blonde angel. Where did the years go? He took off his shoes and breathed relief as his weary socked feet sank into the deep carpet. He slung his grey suit jacket over the banister and loosened his tie. Padding into the kitchen, hand raking his short grey hair, he called out,



“Cup of tea, pumpkin?”



From the living room came a sullen grunt. He sighed, remembering a time when he would have received a sparkling, “Yes please, Daddy!” in response, and a big hug upon his arrival home too. The dreaded teenage years had put paid to that. Still, she was a good girl. Good grades, good friends from good families. She was about to graduate in the top 3 of her class. He knew he could trust her to be sensible. This trust, this close bond that existed between them was what had got them through these difficult few years since his wife, her mother, had passed away. All they’d had was each other. He worried about her growing up without a female role model, worried she was too much of a tomboy with her sports and her lack of interest in fashion and makeup, even though she was physically a woman now. Boys too, he mused as he poured boiling water into their mugs. She’d never shown much of an interest in them or had any serious or long-lasting boyfriends. But for this of course he was glad. Like any protective father he was keenly attuned to anything that could hurt his daughter, and boys were number one on that list.



He carried the two steaming mugs of tea into the living room and coastered them on the coffee table. He looked expectantly at his daughter. She gave him the barest of glances and mumbled an unidentifiable word.



“Pardon me, young lady?” he asked.



She jerked her head around, pulling the thumb out of her mouth.



“I said, THANK YOU!”



Anger flashed through him at her defiant tone, but just as he was about to reprimand her he saw that her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks tear-streaked. Immediately his anger melted and he rushed to kneel down beside her chair.



“Sweetie, what is it? What’s the matter?” She stared ahead at the TV; some garish sitcom blared canned laughter at them. He grabbed the remote and pushed the OFF button, the screen obediently shrinking to black.



“Hey!” she protested.



“Baby, look at me. Look at me,” he insisted, taking her chin in his hand and pulling it firmly around to face him. “Tell Daddy what’s wrong.”



When she spoke, her voice was small.



“You’re going to be pissed at me.”



“Language, young lady! Why would I be… angry with you? What did you do?”



“It wasn’t… I didn’t… It wasn’t me, I mean…”



“Well then, what?” he pressed patiently.



She looked up at him, nervously, heartbreakingly doe-eyed.



“Okay Daddy, but you have to promise not to be… um, angry, okay?”



“Honey, you know I can’t make that promise without knowing what the matter is.”



“Daaaaad!”



“Okay sweetie, here’s the deal. If you’ve done nothing wrong, I promise not to be angry. Deal?”



“Deal.”



“So go on then. What happened?”



“Well. I was at school. You know we all go down to the bottom field on our lunch? The one by the woods?”



“You know you’re not supposed to…”



“Dad!” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “Everyone does, okay? The teachers all know about it, most of them don’t even care unless you’re smoking weed or something.”



“You haven’t been…”



“Dad! No, of course not! God! But will you let me finish?”



“Sorry pumpkin. Go on.”



“Okay. So we were down in the field. And I was there with Marie but then she went off into the woods with Craig because they’re going out and they wanted to go… um, you know. Snogging and stuff.”



He could feel his chest start to tighten. Stuff? What was that supposed to mean? Is that what they all got up to, right in the school grounds?



“So anyway I was lying in the grass listening to my Ipod and waiting for Marie ’cause we had English together after lunch. And I was lying right around the side bit where no one really goes ’cause I had a crappy morning and I wanted to be on my own. And then. And then. These two boys from another class. I’m not going to say their names, before you ask me! But these two boys came and they started calling me… all these awful names.”



“Like what, sweetie?”



She was starting to tear up, her breath hitching.



“Like… like lezzer. And… and dyke,” she blurted.



“My God!” The protective fury was bubbling inside him. “Why would they call you those things?”



“Because. Because I never… well, I have had boyfriends before, but… you know… I’m the only one of my friends who hasn’t… you know. And because one of the boys asked me out earlier this year and I said no because he’s a creep and now he keeps saying those awful things about me and I bet he’s spreading it around the whole school too and he’s such an asshole and God I hate him and his stupid friends too!” With this, she dissolved into tears.



Her father leaned in, scooped her up in his arms, let her sob messily onto his shoulder.



“There there. There there. It’s okay. It’s not your fault, sweetie. It’s okay.”



Those little bastards, he thought. Those evil little bastards.



Her sobs eased and she pulled away, accepting the tissue he offered her and blowing her nose noisily.



“D… Daddy?”



“Yes, sweetie?”



“That’s not all.”



“What’s not all?”



“That happened. That’s not all that happened.”



Panic stabbed his chest. He fought to breathe. Outwardly calm, he said:



“What else happened, sweetie? You can tell me.”



“Okay, but this is the part you’re going to get pissed about. I just know it.”



“Sweetie, just tell me.”



“Okay. So they were calling me all of these names and I was so upset. Not just names, they were saying all of these things I was supposed to have done… with girls… they were being so graphic and disgusting. Dad, you know I didn’t do any of that stuff, right?”



“I know, sweetie. Go on.”



“And I got so pissed. I leapt up and kicked one of them. In the. In the balls!”



“Good girl! That’s my girl!” He punched her affectionately on the arm.



“You’re not cross about that?”



“Of course not baby, he totally deserved it.”



“Okay, but what happened next… oh Daddy, I don’t want to tell you!”



She picked up a cushion and buried her flushed face behind it. He gently prised it away, placed it on the floor. He held her by the shoulders, looked her straight in the eyes. Though his insides were churning, his voice was calm and controlled.



“Sweetie. Sweetie, look at me. Did they do anything to hurt you? Did they? Did those boys hurt you?”



His eyes burned into her and she trembled under his firm grasp. She lowered her eyes and spoke into her lap.



“When I… when I kicked that boy — can we call him Tommy?”



Her father nodded.



“When I kicked Tommy he fell down and got really pissed. He was shouting and swearing and he told the other boy — Billy — he told Billy to grab me. And Billy’s really big, he’s much bigger than me, and he grabbed my arms before I could stop him and he held them behind my back. And I was kicking and struggling but I couldn’t get away. And Tommy got up and called me a bitch, and he said no one does that to me, and he slapped me around the face really hard so that my ear was ringing. And he said, I’m going to teach you a lesson you… you fucking dyke, I’ll show you what you’ve been missing. He yelled for Billy to get me on the ground, and he pushed and Billy pulled me over, and then I was on my back and Billy was holding my arms above my head and Tommy was sitting on my legs so I couldn’t move. And Tommy pulled up my shirt and was touching my — he was touching inside my bra. And Billy was laughing. And Tommy was saying you like that don’t you dyke? He was pinching me really hard. Then he put his hand up my skirt. He started touching me over my knickers. And Daddy I was scared, I was really scared and I was staying stop it, please stop, but he wouldn’t stop, and I could feel him rubbing himself against my leg.”



“I’ll kill him,” said her father, calm and glassy-eyed. “I’ll kill them both.”



The room swirled around him in a nightmarish surreality. Visions of these boys, these animals defiling his beautiful daughter. Anguish for her suffering; despair that he hadn’t been there to help her; rage, hot, homicidal rage, the desire to rip them apart with his bare hands. He was still gripping her arms and he felt as if for the first time how soft and delicate she was. How vulnerable, how precious.



“But Daddy,” she continued meekly. “Daddy, listen.”



“Tell me, sweetie. Tell me everything.”



“I…I didn’t want to like it, Daddy.” she sobbed.



“What?” He was shocked out of his rage and despair, certain he could not have heard her right.



“I didn’t want to like it,” she repeated in the tiniest of voices. “But he kept touching me… there. And he took off my knickers and he was touching me right on my… you know. And I don’t know why, I didn’t want him to do it but when he kept doing it, it started to feel — it started to feel good.”



She buried her head in his chest, cheeks burning with shame.



“Please don’t hate me, Daddy.”



She spoke muffled into his chest, her breath warm and damp through his shirt.



“Sweetie, I need you to tell me what happened next.”



He didn’t know how he could keep his voice so level, so controlled, when he could hardly breathe for… for what? Anger? Disappointment? Fear? Something else, something… oh god, she was so small in his arms, how could this be happening?



“Baby, tell me,” he repeated.



She backed away from his chest, looked up at him from teary eyes and continued.



“I realised I wasn’t struggling any more. That I didn’t want to escape. All I could think about was how good he was making me feel, his fingers on me and in…inside me. And Billy’s hands on my chest, feeling my boobs. They both kept leaning down and kissing me, sticking their tongues in my mouth really roughly, and it felt really wrong but really good too.”



He could feel an uncomfortable tightening in his suit trousers. There was no denying it to himself now. His senses were clouded with lust. He was aware of her breath on him, the softness of her skin, the smell of her hair. You pervert! You sicko! he chided himself desperately. She’s your daughter, for Christ’s sake! But the heat coming off her… and it had been so long since he’d been with a woman… a woman… he hadn’t even noticed that his little girl had become a woman, with all these womanly feelings.



“Baby,” he said in a hoarse voice. “has any boy ever touched you like that before?”



“No, Daddy! I promise, I promise!”



“Okay sweetie, I believe you. Have you… ever touched yourself like that before?”



“Daddy!” she squealed.



Mortified, she tried to bury her head in his chest again, and his stomach lurched with excitement.



“It’s okay, baby. Look at me, sweetie. It’s totally normal to touch yourself, to make yourself feel good.”



“Oh my god, Dad, you’re so embarrassing! I know, alright! They taught us that stuff in health class years ago, even if you were too scared to talk to me about it after Mum died. God!”



“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry. It hasn’t been easy for me, you know. Without your mother around.”



“I’m sorry, Dad. Of course it has been. For us both.”



He stroked her blonde hair tenderly. “You’re a real woman now. I sometimes forget. Your mother would be proud.”



He rose to his feet.



“Sweetie, my knees are hurting from kneeling like that. Poor old man, eh! Come and sit on the sofa with me.”



He held out his hand to her, pulled her to her feet. He lead her to the sofa, thrilling at the feel of her warm hand in his. He sank down onto the end cushion, crossing his legs as he did so. She jumped down beside him, sat cross-legged and facing him on the middle cushion. He caught a glimpse of her white knickers before she folded her school skirt down over her legs; his cock twitched involuntarily. He picked up her hand again, and said to her,



“Pumpkin, tell me what happened next. It’s okay, I’m not mad at you, I promise.”



She took a deep breath.



“Well… Tommy unzipped his trousers and he took his…”



“His?”



“God, Dad, you know!”



“It’s okay, sweetie. We’re both grownups now. Don’t think you can shock your old man!”



“Okay, he took his DICK out. He told me to touch it. It was all warm and stiff and he kept moving it in my hand. Billy took his out as well and put it in my other hand so I was touching both of their dicks at once. And they were both lying next to me on the grass and touching me and kissing me still. Then Billy started to move his dick back and forth in my hand really fast, and then he squirted all of his… his cum over my hand. And then Tommy did the same. And then they stopped kissing me and touching me, they just put their dicks back in their trousers and stood up and brushed all the grass off themselves, and I was lying on the grass still with my skirt up and my top up, and they started walking off and Tommy said, ‘Later, dyke!’ and they both laughed. And I felt so bad and confused, because they just left me there and at first I didn’t want them to touch me and then I didn’t want them to stop and I wanted that good feeling back and I felt like they tricked me, those assholes tricked me and I hate them oh Daddy I hate them!”



She started sobbing again, shifting position and leaning her head into the space between his arm and chest as he wrapped his arm around her narrow shoulders. Her arm was around his waist, her chest hitching against him as she sobbed.



“And that’s everything, sweetie?”



He could hardly talk. His erection strained painfully against his trousers but he didn’t dare adjust himself.



“Yes, Daddy. I cleaned myself up and got dressed and sat and waited for Marie, and when she came back I didn’t tell her what had happened and we just went to English like normal. And then afterwards I came straight home.”



“That’s my good girl.”



“But I can’t stop thinking about what happened. How can I hate them so much and still want it to happen again?”



“Now you listen to me, sweetie.” He was stern now, forcing that fatherly boom. “You are not — NOT — to see those boys again, do you hear me?”



“But Daddy…”



“No buts! I mean it! What they did was wrong. Do you hear me? Wrong. Now I will go to the school, go to their parents, go to the police — wait, let me finish — if that’s what you want me to do. But you’re big enough now to make that decision for yourself. If you decide you don’t want me to do that, I will respect that decision. But whatever happens, you are forbidden to see them or talk to them again. You are to stay away from that field, and you are to stay with your friends at all times, is that clear?”



“Yes, Daddy.”



“Now,” he said, tone softening. “Give me a big hug.”



She nestled into him. He put his arms around her, squeezed her, closed his eyes, kissed her soft hair, kissed her forehead.



“No matter how old you get, you’ll alway be my special little pumpkin. And of course I’m not angry with you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”



She squeezed him back, sighed.



“Thank you, Daddy. I was so worried.”



“I know, sweetie, I know. Shh now. It’s okay. It’s okay. Daddy’s here.”



His hands shook as he stroked her back. His heart was beating fast. She was so warm, so soft. She was his daughter. He knew she trusted him implicitly. He hated himself, he hated himself but he felt unable to stop, mind filled with images of those filthy teenage boys humping their dirty little cocks into her sweet hands, about them defiling her, spilling their filthy loads all over his precious angel. His sweet angel all covered in cum; abandoned on the grass, humiliated and alone and unsatisfied. Those filthy little reprobates! He was filled with poisonous hatred and jealousy and lust. Why couldn’t he have been the one to introduce his sweet daughter to sex? He, who would have been gentle and loving and caring, he who would teach and nurture her and only be concerned with her pleasure?



He continued to stroke her back, her arms, her neck, her shoulders; his head filled with filth and anguish and self-recrimination. He was sick, he was sick! But he felt powerless to stop. His daughter was giving out little contented purrs in response to his stroking, which encouraged him to be more daring. His hand moved from her back to her side; down her side and over her bottom. Her eyes were closed. Her left leg was now hooked over his, her head on his chest, her arms around his body. His firm hand followed this path, stroking, stroking, exploring her body ever further, hardly daring to breathe. Her knee lay so close to the swollen bulge of his crotch that he could almost feel it. He imagined he really could feel it, imagined her rubbing against it, gentle at first then harder. He allowed his hand to brush her small breast and he felt her tense and then relax, not pulling away, not disgusted or indignant. He brushed it again and this time she did not tense. She shifted against his leg and he felt a shock of adrenaline as he realised how tightly she was gripping his leg between her thighs.



“Does that feel good, baby?” he asked.



“Mmm, yes Daddy,” she replied drowsily.



He couldn’t stand it any more. He began to work his hand up under her shirt. When he felt her tense, he said, “Shh sweetie, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s only me, it’s only Daddy.” He stroked her bare, soft stomach. Slowly he worked his hand further up until he could feel the edge of her bra. He let his finger graze her nipples through the thin cotton, and she let out a little whimper.



“That okay, baby?”



“Yes, Daddy.”



“I’m going to take your shirt and bra off. I want to see what a woman you’ve become.”



“But Daddy…”



“It’s okay, baby. You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”



“Okay, Daddy.”



He unbuttoned her white school shirt and removed it. He then reached behind her back; unhooked her bra and slid it down over her breasts and arms. His hands returned to her breasts, exploring the little nubs, the pink little nipples standing up hard and perky. He took one and rolled it around between his thumb and forefinger, then increased the pressure, squeezing and tweaking it.



“Does that feel good, baby?”



But he already knew the answer. Her breath came hard and ragged; she ground herself against his leg. He felt as though his cock would burst if it didn’t get some attention soon. But he held back; for his daughter’s sake he took his time, playing with her nipples as she moaned softly. He picked her up and manoeuvred her so that she lay on her back on the sofa, with him lying on his side facing her. Bending down he kissed her softly on the lips, feeling her lips part under his. Oh, he had kissed his daughter before but never like this! She leaned forward and crushed her lips against him. He felt her tongue snake out nervously to meet his, and he responded in kind, pushing his into her warm mouth. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her closer to him as their tongues battled. His other hand found her nipple again; pulled and twisted as she moaned into his mouth. He pulled away and kissed down her neck, down her chest. He kissed and licked her breasts, taking each nipple in turn in his mouth and sucking on it as he played with the opposite one. He marvelled at their sensitivity, at how wantonly she responded, humping the air above her, pussy desperate for attention. His cock was now pressed into her hip and the sensation was almost too much for him. Still sucking at her nipple, he slid his other hand down and under her skirt. He traced a gentle line over her knickers, sending an electric jolt through them both. He grew bolder, rubbing harder, and she responded by rocking her hips up and down, trying to guide his hand to the place that felt best. Sweat was pouring off him.

Author’s Notes: This story is erotic fantasy written by Etaski. I reserve the right to be listed as the author of this story, wherever it is posted. If found posted anywhere except Literotica.com with this note attached, this story is posted without my permission. © Etaski 2013



This chapter is written to be a “companion chapter” to the first. These “Underdark” chapters will appear as needed, though the greater number of chapters planned are set on the Surface. Nonetheless, they will share the same name. ;) Chapter 3 will return to Sirana.



Warning: As my Drow are still as evil as they can be entertaining, please note that this chapter describes more gender-based violence than is typical.




*****



Chapter 2: Underneath



ALLIES



A green-eyed Drow sat on a saddled lizard just outside of the ward boundary surrounding the Wizard’s Tower. Her normal Priestess garb, headdress, and jewelry were all missing as she borrowed more nondescript forms of dress. While her face was placid, the subtle set to her shoulders revealed an unusual tension for what was thus far a long-time and rewarding game.



“It’s clear,” she said so lowly that even a whisper would have carried farther and seemed more harsh amid the barren stone. “I can’t be gone long, Varessa. I am beneath several daggers right now, you know this.”



The Elder Red Sister nodded, sitting on her own lizard and passing her a small, leather pouch. The Priestess accepted and tucked it efficiently away. All their actions were probably—hopefully, tauntingly—visible to Phaelous from the Tower. As always they chose not to sign their communication even as they were within sight. It was part of the game, always at a different view from inside the Tower.



D’Shea murmured now almost without moving her lips. “I need his name, Tarra.”



Lelinahdara sighed. “Easier said than done. No Priestess knew all the names of the Consorts. Only Juliran and Wilsira knew that one’s name, and Wilsira didn’t have the chance to pass it on before you killed her, otherwise Auranka would have extracted it. The queen didn’t notice, though, he’s supposed to be dead with all her others.”



The Elder stared at her. “Not while he’s still of use to us.”



The Priestess nodded slowly. “Then I will research it as I can. If I discover something, I will tell you.”



“Will you be looking in the Abyss?” D’Shea asked.



Lelinahdara shook her head slightly. “It’s difficult to explain, Varessa, and you know I would not spill all our secrets like that. I will tell you that they had been fully Drow up until when the taint from Kerse’s sire entered the ritual. I assure you that the Consort now residing in your dungeon is not demonic, even having a name of power.”



D’Shea nodded acceptance, burying that particular concern for now. “He is not likely persuaded to tell me?”



“He can’t,” the Priestess said flatly. “He is not able. Not without a ritual that we would have a very difficult time performing with none the wiser right now and so many watching.”



D’Shea grunted softly. “What kind of ritual?”



“It is like what Wilsira was trying with that young Noble’s unborn at Itlaun. Perhaps later we can try, if it is the only way. I wish to know his true name as well… We should be wary of a Consort who survives his Priestesses, Varessa. He is linked to no one now. That has never happened to my knowledge. It will not help his stability; they are not used to being truly alone.”



“It has never happened,” the Red Sister repeated. “Do you have any idea what to expect?”



The Priestess turned her head slightly away from the Tower. “No. He may wither away, or he may grow volatile…or perhaps something else. He was one of the stronger Consorts I noticed, the reason for which I think is obvious.”



D’Shea nodded. “The same reason he still breathes.”



“You’ll no doubt discover just how strong or weak is that connection with your son. They have not been in the same room for well over a century.”



“You forget House Itlaun,” D’Shea commented. “There’s been recent contact well before Kerse abducted Sirana. Shyntre was the one to push the idea of taking her to the Consort for healing.”



“If there was contact, then Sirana didn’t report fully to you,” the other observed. “Or she didn’t know of the contact at all.”



The Elder’s face hardened. “If she did not know of any connection at all, then she would not be watching for it. But truly, do you think the Consort would have stayed away, with Shyntre and Sirana both in the same place?”



“If he knew what was good for him, he would,” Lelinahdara smiled. “But they often don’t when they become distracted. You know males.”



The Elder slowly let out a breath. “So obvious in hindsight, Tarra. I can only blame my tight focus on Wilsira.”



The Priestess nodded in understanding. “You were as close as you’d ever been to being free. Those two boys haven’t so much as acknowledged the other’s existence in decades. It does not surprise me that we missed that.”



The inclusion as a pair softened the Elder’s face. “Perhaps Sirana could have reached his name now.”



Her long-time ally tilted her head. “That psychic bruise left by the dwarf, you mean? Which we failed to extricate. Has she gained more control since raping the unwitting tutor, the female Duergar?”



D’Shea nodded. “It would seem. Sirana has also had direct contact with an Illithid since then. She used that sapphire a second time to give Jaunda a suggestion that would wear off some time after the second audience with the queen.” Her copper eyes locked intently with the Priestess’s green ones. “It worked, Tarra.”



White brows rose up very high. “What had Jaunda forgotten, but now remembers?”



D’Shea shook her head. “Not now, Tarra. Know only that it worked. It actually worked…I thought perhaps it had been as much my power as hers when I found a way to break my silence through her. It was so much like the rituals you and I had been performing to purge the imprint from her. But…what she did to Jaunda, she did on her own.”



Lelinahdara released a slow breath with a shake of her head. “And we lost her, thanks to the queen. That must be eating away your guts, Varessa.”



D’Shea grunted. “Better that than to have the queen know. You can well imagine the ways She may respond to such…potential.”



Lelinahdara’s green eyes glinted with excitement at the statement before she blinked and looked at the ground. “A pity. Perhaps it is best to forget about her? She won’t survive her task.”



Even muttering, the Elder’s tone had conviction. “The Valsharess thinks she will return.”



The other blinked in surprise. “Oh?”



“She set a compulsion on her,” D’Shea elaborated with a touch of bitterness. “Sirana tried to tell me something about her dreams but could not. Why do that to her unless it may come into play? Unless the queen had a vision about it?”



Tarra rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Hm. Or She simply didn’t want the young one babbling to you prior to leaving.”



D’Shea shook her head slightly. “That, certainly, but…no, my instinct tells me it was something else.”



“I’ll defer to your instinct, then. It certainly has its track record. If you can provide a strong link to Sirana, I may be able to divine something of use to you. Something more specific than indirect hints on the queen’s motives.”



D’Shea held her thoughts for another moment before nodding. “Let me consider. For now, I wish to learn that Consort’s name.”



“As do I,” the Priestess repeated with a smirk. “Given time, after I deal with a few rivals—” Sharp, green eyes locked onto her associate’s expression as it changed in a very familiar manner. “Varessa? What has happened?”



“I must return to the cloister,” Elder D’Shea said. “Someone has entered solitary confinement.”



SHYNTRE



His heart had begun thumping loudly in his ears, seemingly out of a void, and he trembled uncontrollably for a few moments. The Drow managed to grip the edges of his desk and shove his chair backwards to get his feet, using the ornate, polished furniture for support as he breathed heavily and blinked until he could again see the candlelit chamber the queen had assigned to him and the book in front of him.



“What was that…?” Shyntre whispered to himself, lifting his hands to make sure there was no blood, no raked skin beneath his fingernails. They were clean as any queen would expect.



During just those few heartbeats, just those few breaths, he’d felt like he was being attacked. He had had dreams before, memories of the Red Sisters and Wilsira and her demonic son revisited on him, and he knew how to handle them while trying to rest. Never before had it happened while he’d simply been sitting, reading, completely awake…to experience a complete blackout where all he knew was the overwhelming surge of fear yet was unable to see the threat.



Now he looked around, and everything was as it had been at the beginning of the eve, the same even as when he’d first awoke that cycle. He’s been in this bedchamber without leaving for several cycles now, regular meals brought to him by silent servants, and by all appearances the Valsharess was not in any hurry to interview Her new resident, to tell him what his purpose was. If he hadn’t had his books transferred with the rest of his Tower belongings, he’d be going mad with boredom.



He couldn’t be so weak as to be having waking flashbacks of something he’d not only accepted but learned to turn around and wield himself, could he?



“Can’t accept that,” he murmured, moving slowly to sit on the ridiculously soft bed not too far from the desk, leaving his book open where it was.



The queen and the Priestesses, the Red Sisters…even those backstabbing gossips at the Tower would only use fits like this to dig farther into him, and he wouldn’t let them in. He only wished pain and failure for all of them, in all they ever tried to do. The City could collapse and dissolve into Chaos, he didn’t care.



He only wished for a way to escape.



He wished he could have gone with Rausery and Sirana…he need not even come back down here. Ever. He had seen such teasing glimpses of the Surface before…he could find a place to live there, he knew it.



Shyntre swallowed as this led his thoughts directly to the Consort, the one Drow that remained the single reason, the chain and the weight, of why he hadn’t made the attempt to exile himself.



The wizard resented the ritual magic that bound them, yet he had no one to blame for it but himself. He blamed others for every part of his existence, except for that one. He could probably think of a reason to hold to, to explain it away or place the pretty breeder in the wrong… yet he didn’t.



The Consort hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t planned it…Shynre had done it, without fully understanding what he’d been doing. He’d told Sirana that he had “tricked” the Consort into telling his true name. That was more or less the truth…but it was worthwhile to note that the Consort’s name had never passed his own lips. Yet Shyntre had heard it somewhere so deep it would never go away while he lived.



If there was one possible, tiny quality that set him apart from those females he hated, it was that he could still recognize and leave true innocence unsullied.



It was rare enough in their City.



If Shyntre thought that the Consort…if he thought that “Auslan” could survive outside the City, he might try to steal him away. The females who kept him didn’t deserve him.



His best chance of that, however, may have just left… never to return from the mission the Valsharess had given her. The pellets he’d made and hoped Rausery had passed to Sirana seemed so paltry compared to the aid he really wanted to provide.



He’d given her all he knew in their studies, as relatively little as it was compared to Rausery’s experience. Even with Jael and Gaelan being such horrid distractions in that small room in the cloister, he had tried to impress on her all the wonder of the above and he thought that she had the curiosity to grow to appreciate it once she got up there.



She was pregnant, too. By Lolth’s cold, left tit, how had that happened? He had thought…he had believed that he had broken the link with the Abyss. It had taken almost all he had at the time to do it, with added help. Yet a normal healing potion wouldn’t work, and Auslan had needed to choose something else. He had needed to cleanse her.



Shyntre hadn’t intended to put that decision in his hands. He only knew that in sending her broken body to Auslan, he could trust the purity of the potion and the competency of the healer. It had been necessary; Sirana had been so far gone and he trusted no one else.



He’d missed something, though, and in forcing the healer to take desperate measures, Shyntre had put the Consort right where he was now: surrounded by Red Sisters whose tastes he knew only too well, and directly in the hands of his ruthless, powerful mother.



The wizard weaved slightly, glad he was sitting on the bed as his head became light again and he rubbed his temple. He blinked and was amazed at how much time had passed, how far down the candle had burned.



It finally surfaced in his thoughts that how he was feeling now might be related to the very subject of his thoughts.



The last few eves that Shyntre had willingly stayed in solitary confinement with Auslan, before relocating to the Palace, he’d been able to communicate some, though his own tension at being spied upon had prevented as much true sharing as he’d wanted. He simply could not believe there was anywhere in the cloister that was blind and deaf to the doings of any prisoner. Or any male.



Qivni had laughed at the notion of putting them directly across from each other, but Sirana had helped at least to make sure his cell had an angled to view Auslan, barely, if they both pressed to the bars. They could hear each other with no trouble, but neither of them was much for projecting his voice openly, and it was more efficient to sign than to whisper.



*My second Priestess is dead,* Auslan had chosen to say first, the motions minimized as much as they could be inside the drab, grey cloak he’d been given to cover and warm himself.



Shyntre had nodded his head but refrained from commenting since it would only be vitriol. Wilsirathon had been nearly as bad as his own mother.



Seeing that the wizard wasn’t following his train of thought, the Consort had added, *Only you remember now.*



The wizard had caught up quickly, then, blinking and feeling something cold, tight, and not at all pleasant clutch at his chest. The Consort meant that he was the only one alive who knew his divine name. Shyntre forced himself to sign slowly despite his fear.



*What does that mean?*



Auslan had looked around as if trying to see or sense if anyone was watching, listening, before he answered. *Your magic may grow stronger, or it may shift its nature. Or both. Be aware. Be careful.*



Be careful, indeed. So many ways to draw unwanted attention in the Palace…



*What of your magic?* he asked the Consort.



*It is stronger. I can already feel it when I sleep. It comes from you.*



A pause.



*What if…one of us dies?* Shyntre signed next.



Auslan had shrugged slightly. *More change.*



He hadn’t liked the sound of that, recalling the Priestess’s withered face and body in that tiny audience room, such a short time after Kerse’s death. *Loss of power, like Wilsira?*



*Possible. May gain instead.*



Shyntre had hardly had time to reflect on that—whether becoming more powerful with the Consort’s death would in any way make up for it—when he noticed a strong somatic response in his childhood companion. The Consort’s throat had flashed as he swallowed, seeming to recall something, and he looked down even as he signed close to his chest.



*Also, you must know, it is important…Sirana may remember.*



Shyntre had been slouching in his pondering but jerked his back straight now. His hands did the equivalent of shouting. *You told her your name?!*



Auslan was immediately defensive. *I cannot, you know that! And you told her of my visions, Shyntre, you have no ground to stand! We can only hope she is sent away from here before she tells D’Shea!*



The wizard stilled his hands and scowled; they had been silent for a long while as they both stewed.



*Two questions,* he had finally signed.



After a moment, Auslan signed that he’d hear and answer them.



*How is it Sirana might ‘remember’ at all?*



*During the healing,* the Consort signed almost curtly. *Somehow we bonded, like you and I did. But she does not remember.*



Shyntre pursed his lips. *Can you feel the bond now?*



Auslan shook his head. *No. I feel only you. I am not certain it held, but it was there briefly. She drew me out, I knew her, but then she vanished.*



If the scholar wasn’t already used to some of the abstract ways the Consort chose to describe things he saw or felt, he’d be asking what in the Abyss that was supposed to mean?



*And if she remembers your name?*



Auslan shrugged again, this time belying high tension. *The balance will change again. We will feel it.*



*She is not a mage or Priestess.*



*That is not a requirement. She is Drow; she has enough inherent magic.*



Letting out a breath, Shyntre preluded his second question. *I assume Sirana told you what I said to her?*



*Yes. You wanted her help to protect me.*



Shyntre did not remember any other time in his life being so shocked, so powerless, and so afraid for anyone besides himself as when Auslan was being dragged to a prison cell within the cloister at his own mother’s order. In hindsight it hadn’t been the best move to tell Sirana about the visions, but at least he had known she owed the Consort a debt of gratitude that she was likely to acknowledge.



Of course, if he’d known Auslan had gotten her pregnant at the same time, he would have thought twice about divulging that information. He had been amazed how well she’d hidden all of it…or maybe he’d just been blind at the time.



*How did that subject arise? Please, tell me. She must have asked you about the visions themselves. What did you say?*



Haltingly, both Drow more careful with their hands, Auslan had described to him Sirana’s visit, relayed her own questions…and that she had had the same two dreams as Auslan. Shyntre had latched on to it, thinking finally, finally this was the vision that would be clear in its reasons, the answer to that first, brief warning about a sacrifice and a door to the Abyss being opened now or a thousand years from now under the Sun…



However the Consort had suppressed that optimism quickly with experience, and almost as if he’d known it would shock the wizard down to his core.



Auslan had told him: *Those were two of several variations, Shyntre, and they could be wrong. Events are still changing even if we may be moving toward the Sun somehow. The telling of this for me is that while I knew she would become pregnant, I thought you would be the sire, not me.*



Shyntre had not liked one bit how tightly those words, and that mental image, had seized his mind sitting in that cell. He had so enjoyed the last several times when Sirana and he had coupled, in his Tower room as they’d struggled and shared secrets before the second trial, again in the study room in front of the other two Sisters, knowing for a fact that, of all possible Drow, his brother in all but blood had already seeded her womb. He had no worries for filling her twat with his cream the way he’d always wanted.



At her trials, he’d been restricted to her mouth and netherhole—which had its reward at the time but, truthfully, playing that pregnancy game with Sirana against Wilsira and Kerse had only caused more fantasies to float through his mind. He entertained himself with thoughts of just who might eventually breed the lusty, careless, and very young Red Sister.

He just hadn’t ever imagined it to be Auslan. He’d never even known the two knew each other, hadn’t been told until Shyntre finally allowed the young Sister to lay him in his own quarters at the Tower.



There was a time when he would have loved to see her fall pregnant just to suffer inside the Sanctuary. He had thought she would deserve it and he would have laughed long and loud. Both at her, and at D’Shea.



It was different now. Her odd growth of respect for him over the last year had bloomed the more they’d clashed. She’d proven a desire to protect the Consort, to keep some secrets despite her having the power to cause Shyntre a lot of grief. She had her own personal potential, and there was the unshakable fact that he had looked forward to their sparring of wits in the Tower library, to the rough and passionate mountings in between her thighs, while in between lessons…



With her he’d gotten away with seeing to his own desires first because she let him; nothing seemed too much for her not to laugh off and return on him as soon as she took back the upper hand. They’d even started cursing each other in the Surface Common tongue. It was all a game to her, but not one she used to dismiss him, as he was accustomed. He was often in her thoughts, he knew it; it was the game she lived for, and he had proven an interesting…and worthy… opponent for her.



In the end, he’d answered the call to help preserve her life. More, he had had the ability to do so…unlike probably any other Auslan could have called, except perhaps his mother, the Elder Sister.



The hatred he’d had for Sirana at the beginning, solely on account that D’Shea had stated that she wanted her as a daughter more than him as a son, had fallen to the side as he found himself instead hoping the young Red Sister might yet live to reach a much higher rank.



In solitary confinement, hearing from this particular Consort—who had a way of knowing some things—that Sirana could have caught as easily from Shyntre as from Auslan… He had shuddered involuntarily. It sent far too many pleasurable scenes performing in his head. If the queen wanted to breed him now like some caged boar, then yes, please, let him breed with Sirana first. He could feel pride in any child of hers that she conceived by him.



Yet now she had gone away, sent like some expendable foot soldier, while he was placed in this lavish room to await service rather than study.



Damn the Valsharess and her schemes in Lolth’s name…damn Her.



What he had left now was an inevitably strengthening bond with the Consort, the most direct attention and interference from his mother at exactly the time when he had stopped wanting it, and the slim possibility that his preferred Red Sister would return from her mission to the Surface… coupled with the inconvenience of wanting that same Sister who was no longer here.



This only made for greater danger for him the longer he remained in the Palace. Rausery would be back in a couple of months, maybe she could help him. Maybe she could help Auslan. What would they do with him anyway, now that the Bred Consorts had been all but destroyed?



What had Auslan meant by saying, “if we may be moving toward the Sun somehow”?



Shyntre rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the stiffness and tension as he sat on the soft bedding of his Palace suite. He recalled the panicked, sensory attack from earlier and had to wonder again where that had come from? From him and his own memories? Or from…his name-bond? Was the Consort alright, or had the Red Sisters finally gotten to him?



Shyntre swallowed a surge of nausea at the thought, but he ultimately put his face in his hands, closing his eyes and willing his mind to be silent for once. He couldn’t do anything to help Auslan this eve. The too-beautiful male was on his own for now.



…yet as much as he had endured it over his life, the wizard still hated feeling so helpless.



“What troubles you so, young mage? Do you miss your fellows?”



Shyntre started badly, barely identifying the gold-and-purple robes of She standing at the entrance to his chambers. Either his door had opened and closed again, yet he was so inwardly focused that he failed to notice…or the Valsharess had simply bypassed the crude, material portal. He was horrified with either possibility.



He stood up quickly then fell to one knee, lowering his head and touching the fingers of one hand to the polished floor. He was currently without the strength to withstand Her gaze on his feet, without the balance to bow with grace, so he did not even try.



He let Her see the remainder of his fright as he shored up his mental defenses with a thrice-repeated rhyme. He would have wished for some warning, would have wished to be better rested or mentally stronger.



Nonetheless the long-practiced technique eased his thoughts and troubles and sharpened his focus to a surer edge. Memories of Auslan and Sirana disappeared and Shyntre brought himself to live in “the now,” only in the moment of danger. It was a skill he could grudgingly attribute to the Red Sisters, and especially to Rausery, the Drow who’d acted more his sponsor and matron than any other cared to.



He feared that the Valsharess meant to challenge Rausery’s place in his mind, and that eventually he would be forced to do the unthinkable…to reject or refuse Her…somehow. The Elder Red Sister’s earned place to him was the base test against which he might judge how well he was protecting his secrets.



“Valsharess,” he whispered. “You come at last. I thought I had displeased you to be so long unvisited in the Palace.”



Her soft chuckle almost felt like a hand stroking his cheek. He hated that, did not know how She did it.



“You are nervous,” She said.



“Yes, my queen.”



“Phaelous was always patient.”



“Am I to emulate him to please you, High One? I shall.”



She paused briefly, and he heard Her step forward on finely-wrapped feet, her queen’s skirt brushing so lightly along the sleek ground.



“No. You are not.”



Shyntre murmured an acknowledgement by way of Her Title again but otherwise waited.



“You have much of your dam in you, even favoring your sire so closely in appearance,” the queen commented, Her rich voice sounding farther away as She continued. “Often it is our own offspring best able to challenge or replace us.”



The mage first took that as another remark on how it was such a pity that he hadn’t been born female… How often Wilsira and other Sanctuary Priestesses had said it, how often it had been observed or implied by the Red Sisters, even Rausery and Sirana as they learned of his strengths? Those at the Tower hadn’t focused on his gender quite so much though he could not escape the physical comparison to Phaelous and his upbringing in the Sanctuary. He felt heat enter his ears and had to focus on his breathing again to remain calm.



“Rise up, Shyntre. You may look at Us.”



Slowly he did so, though he dreaded it. The wizard fought lightheadedness that he attributed to Her oppressive aura as he unfolded his bowing form and straightened his back, tentatively lifting his chin. If he looked straight ahead, his eyes landed on the hollow of Her throat, and he had to tilt his head up to follow the elegant, long neck up to Her classical features.



He saw a softened jaw and chin despite its strong set, complimented by equally strong cheekbones, and very full lips beneath a straight nose framed with wider, perfect crescent nostrils. His gaze slid to a sloping forehead and perfect blonde brows arched over wide-set and slanted, piercing eyes… Those tawny eyes still frightened him, no matter that he was one of the few favored males. She always seemed to be trying to reach inside him, to co-opt his will and simply keep it like a bauble to roll around in Her palm.



He saw by way of comparison only the way the last three generations’ features had changed to have higher foreheads, more pointed chins and a more angular facial bones, and how their ears were a little thinner and a little shorter than the gracious flare and rise of the queen’s.



It struck him that the only young Drow he’d seen who looked more like the Valsharess’s brand of beauty was Jael, the fiery and impatient novice Red Sister with an obvious infatuation for Sirana. She was from one of the lowest Houses, their line being without the benefit of a Consort for the past eight or ten centuries. Or more. He hadn’t been able to check facts beyond what Wilsira had taught him long ago about the Noble Houses, but he had seen the likeness the longer he’d stared at the young one across the study table. It certainly wasn’t exact…but it did draw a note.



But only a note. Shyntre still had no thoughts why the Valsharess would encourage the faster trait selections with the Bred Consorts, and why she might want the faces of all Her children to begin to look so different from Her own.



“You are so beautiful, my queen,” he said quietly before lowering his eyes to the hollow of her throat again, the bands of purple and gold waving in candlelight at the edge of his vision.



She sounded lightly amused. “We are beyond simple compliments. Tell Us instead what you have thought of Elder D’Shea’s acknowledgment of you in Our audience chamber? She now claims you as her son. She may want more contact. You understand now that she was beneath a compulsion she was motivated to break.”



Shyntre noticed how tacky his tongue seemed in his mouth. “I have thought…that it explains much, my queen.”



She waited. “And?”



And. And…what?



The queen said, “Once you said you would help Wilsira against her. You seemed to change your mind, as I believe the Priestess turned you against her herself once you met Elder Rausery. Once you said you would spy for Rausery, were you ever able to get near your mother, though you could not. You wanted her to fall then. She came out above where many would have faltered. How do you see it now?”



“As an opportunity, Valsharess,” he answered softly.



“Indeed?” He could not tell if She was pleased or intrigued or merely curious. “What kind?”



“Only to learn what I might do next, Valsharess.”



“You doubt your hatred, perhaps?”



Shyntre shook his head in the negative. “I still hate her. She has earned nothing new from me. But I will wait, my queen. I chose too quickly before and each time I was only used in my ignorance. I can be more like my sire in this one trait.”



He sensed Her smile and again it almost seemed She caressed his cheek with a breath. “And if We desired something specific of you regarding your mother, Shyntre?”



He shivered just slightly. “You have but to ask, my queen.”



Though not looking directly at Her, he could sense Her nod. “When D’Shea next requests your presence at the cloister, We will deny her. You shall give Us a reason to grant it instead, and in her presence.”



Shyntre felt a chill spread through his middle; he briefly closed his eyes. “Yes, Valsharess. Does Your Grace wish to know the reason ahead of time?”



“No.”



No? He swallowed. “How will I best serve, my queen? Do I listen for something specific as well?”



“You assume We send you to spy, Shyntre?”



The chill remained even as his face grew hot. “It is a reasonable assumption, my queen.”



She chuckled. “But an assumption nonetheless.”



His brow creased in confusion, and that was when the ancient elf reached out to barely touch him with the tips of her fingers, smoothing out his forehead with a brush. He shuddered and struggled to suck in a breath as Her aura became thicker around them.



“You have a long arc ahead of you,” She said. “So much to learn. Meanwhile, it is time that you breed. We will see which House earns the privilege first. Trust that We will not make the selection lightly, and you will show gratitude and perform your best. We have heard the comments about the fickleness of wizards, but you will not embarrass Us. Your sire never has.”



Shyntre felt for a moment as if he might faint, that he might be ill. Still, he nodded. “Yes, my queen…however—”



“However?”



He swallowed and hurried to explain. “My specific… education… since Your Grace last bestowed Her… attentions…”



He could sense Her radiant smile and only felt weaker when She chuckled.



“You mean the trials. The fights? That is why you are different, young mage. And it shall be different going forward. The Nobility will catch on soon. Only imagine how they must thank you after you seed them, no matter if they are…unaccustomed to your new tastes.”



Meaning that She would allow him to return their slights and arrogance with punishment that they normally feared from the Red Sisters… Not only would he be immune to repercussions doing perhaps more to other Nobles what he had done to Sirana during her trials, but he would be expected to finish inside their cunts. That imagery was intriguing and so very arousing in spite of his wariness of Her plans for him. The fact that it was both also frightened him on a deep level.



He may forget some things if he spent too long here, things he did not want to forget. It was too dangerous, he did not want to be here…



…but as always before, he could not think of a place where he would fit better down here. Even if he had the choice. He would rather have left with the others.



“As Your Grace wishes.”



The Valsharess lifted Her hand and lightly traced the edge of Her robe leading to the point between Her breasts. “Show Us you are healthy, Shyntre.”



Heat entered his face in a hot rush, and She could sense it as he showed Her that he understood Her command. Shyntre unknotted his sash and opened his robe, sliding it off his shoulders. He made sure the sash holding a few pouches for his spell components remained in their belt loops and placed the garment wholesale across the foot of the bed next to him. He stepped out of his chamber shoes so that he was nude except for the emerald pendant hanging from his neck.



The wizard more felt the Valsharess’s disapproval than saw or heard it and slowly lifted the pendant off as well, setting it gently on his robe. He hated leaving it within Her easy reach if She wanted to take it, but trying to hide or keep it from Her would all but guarantee that She would.



The Valsharess stepped closer so She could run Her hand first across his chest, pinching one nipple before continuing down his stomach, combing his neat, white thatch. Her fingers deftly inspected his genitals, encouraging a bit of blood to gather though just as with the first time, he was too nervous and afraid to respond quickly.



He hadn’t known the first time that She did not expect instant erections from him, and certainly not from just a few brushes of his member. Knowing this forgiveness of flaccidity for this second time, however, was even worse than his ignorance of before, because he knew what She *did* want.



Her hand cradled each of his buttocks, one at a time, then trailed up his spine to caress his right shoulder and upper arm before tugging the tie at the base of his neck to let his hair free. The tie dropped onto the otherwise immaculate floor. He failed to keep his heart from being heard.



“Do you know, young wizard, that the pattern of a heartbeat can betray whether one wishes to fight or to flee?” She asked quietly, remaining behind him.



Whether that was true or not—and even the queen lied when it suited Her—Shyntre knew She wanted to make a point. She invited curiosity, and if it was not natural then it must be manufactured.



“No, Valsharess,” he answered, hearing that same beat thudding in his ears along with his strained voice. “What does my pattern tell you, High One?”



“At your first submersion, you wished to flee, as expected,” She answered in a deep thrum that seemed to penetrate his chest and spread heat over his already-pounding organ. “Now…We daresay the Sisterhood has made you…stronger. You wish to fight.”



“I will not fight you, my queen.”



“We know this. But your heart is changed nonetheless.”



“Is Your Grace displeased?”



“Perhaps. We have not decided.”



She continued to trace his bare skin with fingertips now, and he became aware of a pattern in Her own movements, an invisible string tugging gently but insistently at all the places inside where he tended to feel his magic gather just before he used it: forehead, throat, heart and lungs, his stomach, gut, his crotch…flooding his limbs and making his hands burn and swell for release just as his cock did right before climax. The energy building in all those centers weren’t of his doing but his whole body tensed as he fought to contain it.



He felt Her brush his hair to the side, then, baring his neck. Just after his mind registered the soft touch of Her lips as She pressed them to his skin, a bright light exploded behind his eyes; it felt like a concussive blast inside his skull and he staggered. The Valsharess guided his fall to where he collapsed to the side and landed on the bed. Now She did cup his male parts again and he knew he had a full erection; the touch seemed to sizzle and he moaned loud enough for him to actually hear it over the roar of energy rushing up through his core and collecting in his head.



His heart pounded so hard, so painfully, he hoped that it simply did not fail under the stress. He could not see anything in the room; his eyes were utterly useless. He could barely scent Her, heard little else besides his heart and his lungs…but he felt far too much. He wished he could be numb. His queen said nothing more aloud; he may not have heard Her in any regard as She manipulated his energy with deft and sinister skill.



Shyntre somehow felt that he was being cradled, naked against a warm, robed chest as if he was again a babe, and he writhed and twitched as magical surges were drawn out of him, a portion of them returned, transformed, made of new colors he hadn’t known existed. They were chaotic and battering, made him feel constantly while offering no relief, no release of the energy that built up.



At least, not until the queen chose to lift it from him.



Each time She did, it felt like a warm and soft mouth wrapped around his aching cock and bringing him to his peak. Sometimes sooner, sometimes drawing it out in an agonizing denial. Each time She did, he was more and more grateful to Her.



The mage might have accepted being lost in an exquisitely pleasured amnesia as the energy, the release, built once again, had he not also seen the silver threads of a spider’s web being laid gently over a bloodstone. More were being added every few moments, so soft and light that he almost hadn’t realized it would soon be enough to hold living prey.



It was the first clear image behind his eyes but it was enough.



His heart surged in his ears, as did the raggedness of his breath, and he gathered any energy he could, whatever remained to him. He imagined, remembered, fantasized about taking a young Noble’s mouth, thrusting harder between her lips as her blue eyes stared up, unable to see him. He remembered how she’d penetrated his backside when he least expected, forcing him to come, to spill his essence across her tongue and down her throat…



*Oh goddess…goddess…!*



The delicate balance of magic shifted just enough, and he gathered it himself, gave it to Her, all he had in that moment. His gift, and his freedom. His eyes may have rolled back in his head, he may have shot his seed in truth, his breath may have stopped, or his heart, he didn’t know at first. He only knew the release of incredible pressure and power, the unraveling of all tension, and the second explosion inside his head. The light.



Then the darkness.



Shyntre became aware still lying on incredibly soft bedding; he felt nothing at first. Numb or empty, he wasn’t sure. He could see again, and candlelight flickered so low that the candle on his desk had to be nearly burned out by now. He could make out the silhouette still, sitting to his right at the edge of the bed. Her regal back was to him, and he glimpsed gold and purple colors. He could see Her distinctive profile as She looked toward his door to the left. One bejeweled finger tenderly rubbed Her full lower lip.

“Interesting. What you have learned from the Sisterhood,” She murmured. “Do they suit you better than the Tower?”



The mage hesitated, trying to fight through a fog of exhaustion in his mind. He lay naked with a chill and tiny bumps spreading over his skin as his skin of his balls tightened up in unconscious response. He realized that his member was indeed wet, and his nose suggested the moisture was from a mouth, not a pussy. Yet the Valsharess seemed as perfect as ever, not a strand out of place or neckline askew.



If She basked in any afterglow, She hid it well. It was hard to imagine that She might have swallowed his cum just now. Perhaps She had not.



“I-I…” he croaked and cleared the thickness in his throat with a cough. He rolled to his side and curled his legs up, propping himself on one arm so that he could bow his head in Her direction.



“I was given my education at the Sanctuary, and my arcane study at the Tower, Your Grace. The Sisterhood taught different skills…and I would have been a poor student without having the Sanctuary and Tower both, and first. I cannot say any suit me over the others, but…they complement each other.”



The Valsharess seemed to offer a tiny smile in profile, still sitting with Her back straight on his bed. “That has always been Our desire. Perhaps you are the first child able to judge true from experience. You are not of any single branch, but you have been known by each about equally in your young life. Are We accurate in our perception, Shyntre?”



“Yes, Valsharess,” he responded, a bit reluctantly. “But I have much more to learn from any of them…”



“Not likely in two, as you are not their daughter,” She said. “But We appreciate the view from the underside, Shyntre. We value it, and We shall value your service in the path of your sire, but more broad. We intend to breed you so as not to miss the opportunity, but there will be more for you to do.” She looked over her shoulder at him, and in the dying candlelight Her eyes looked almost gold. “You surely are intrigued by that?”



The wizard’s heart had picked up its pace again; he was almost relieved that it seemed a normal response. “Yes, Valsharess. Whatever service you require.”



Another smile quirked at Her lips and she handed out a plain silver ring. “Should you scry another such danger as you did with Kerse breaking his bond, you shall inform Us before any other. Speak it through this, We will hear it.”



He nodded, accepting the ring but not slipping it on quite yet. “Of course, Valsharess.”



She noticed it remained in his palm. “Research it, if you must. You will find no curse or compulsion.”



But would he be able to remove it once he donned it? He guessed not, and that he would be as traceable from that point on as Auslan had been before D’Shea cut his skin open to draw the magic out. The Valsharess could not leave everything to chance, much as She seemed to want to court his cooperation and his temptation over using force.



For now.



“Thank you, my queen.”



“Rest well, wizard.”



AUSLAN



“…Know why he is down here still?”



Auslan was already sitting up on his cot, having heard the conversation the moment the upper door leading down to solitary confinement had been opened. These Red Sisters did not have to speak aloud at all, he knew; they were doing it intentionally to frighten him.



“Who knows? You’d think he’d served his purpose. Best check on him.”



His eyes swept the solid, smooth stone of his prison cell. Nowhere to go, no option to hide or to summon help. The former Consort gripped his cloak shut from the inside, unable to prevent huddling in it as a shiver went through him.



Their intent was working.



Auslan’s mind flipped back and forth between greeting them first and acting confident, or staying silent until spoken to. He didn’t have much time to decide. He ultimately did what he thought Shyntre would do, and stood up to face the bars prior to the shapes of the four Sisters coming into view on the other side. They did not bother with any light source; they could all see each other well enough though he was nowhere close to them.



His back was straight and his bow impeccable and graceful as he signed, *In Lolth’s Favor* as a generic greeting with one hand extended from his cloak. He did not show any more of his body or change his expression. He focused on keeping his body’s energy steady, which was difficult.



One of the Red Sisters was staring at him especially hard. She looked younger and astonished, though nothing else about her was memorable beyond her uniform.



“Fuck, he’s beautiful…” she murmured.



An elder Sister snorted softly. “Indeed. You didn’t come from Nobility, did you, Moria? Never saw a Consort before?”



The younger Sister scowled. “Not up close.”



“Elder Rausery doesn’t tend to use her for spying on Nobles because she doesn’t have the background,” another Sister explained to the elder without derision, just a statement of fact.



Moria shrugged and her eyes were quickly drawn to him again. “Does he speak?”



The elder, and clearly the most confident one, chuckled and nodded. “I’m sure he can even scream, if he’s inspired to do so.”



The fourth present was smiling slightly and darting glances at the others. None of them had addressed him directly and Auslan’s stomach felt tight and nauseous over the short conversation, ready to eject his last few mouthfuls of the travel mix he had been subsisting on for the time he’d been jailed thus far—though he was uncertain of the exact time. A few cycles since Shyntre and Sirana had both left? A week? It likely hadn’t been as long as it felt.



The elder doing most of the talking moved to the side, and Auslan knew that she was going to open his cell. They would come in.



What would he do? He could not physically resist even one Red Sister, much less four. He had no protection from his social standing anymore; the Valsharess and Priestesses believed him dead. Shyntre had recommended against using his high fertility as a verbal threat against being forced to couple—there were many other things they could do to him that did not carry that risk. So what else?



He was alone. Much as he had practiced in the past, this time he could not prevent his racing heart and quickened breath from being audible in the dark as the door opened. No doubt they could see his fear response whirling in energy waves over his skin; no doubt they could smell his scent as he perspired just a little bit in the cool air.



When Sirana had arrived to disrupt his solitude from House D’Verin two years ago, he’d been afraid of her and what she would do, but he had not been without recourse. He knew his value to others; it had given him courage even as she’d so roughly handled him. More importantly, he truly did not believe she would kill him. Her overbearing lust had even been…challenging. In hindsight, it had been thrilling.



Sirana had spoken to him, given him direct orders, told him how she’d have him, how much she wanted him… Sirana had looked in his eyes and saw him as something other than a Consort; she’d seen a desirable male able to act on his own. She hadn’t known what he was at the time, but even later she still saw him as a live, thinking Drow. She had kissed him on multiple occasions without taking more.



Now Auslan was not so certain about his value to any female besides her, and he was for certain still a possession and a toy to these Red Sisters. Shyntre had told him in one of their recent conversations that Sirana was not a good mark by which to judge most of the other Red Sisters. She actually sought and enjoyed the company of males, the wizard had said, and even listened to their thoughts on occasion. It was not typical behavior.



The only two remaining to whom Auslan might appeal with reason were Sirana’s allies, Jaunda and D’Shea. The others? By Shyntre’s memory, the others were much more brutal and deaf to the cries of reluctant partners. The other two weren’t here and had yet even to see him.



Should he just submit and hope to keep breathing? Would it come to that? What else would they want from him? How much would they hurt him? What about when Shyntre eventually found out, what would he tell him, could he even hold his head up…?



The stone shifted in and slid to the side in a soft grating sound that seemed especially loud to Auslan. Three of the Sisters entered and one remained just outside. The admittedly spacious holding cell seemed very small all of a sudden.



“Hurry up, Thena,” said the Sister standing guard outside.



“In time, Panagan,” the elder growled over her shoulder, then turned back to look at the prisoner. “Looks like his hair has been chopped off. That’s a pity. I remember it being really long on the altar last worship ball, except without that blonde streak.”



“You even know which one this is?” Moria asked, amazed.



“House Itlaun had him last.” Thena rubbed her chin. “Before the Purge. I’m thinking D’Shea used it as a cover to keep him here.”



The fourth Sister who had been silent nodded in agreement and finally spoke. “Yes, D’Shea took care of that House herself. It makes sense. And…this is also the one Sirana attacked during her initiation, isn’t he?”



Thena nodded. “I think you’re right, Suna. Interesting. What did they say about him at the trial?”



Suna shrugged and shook her head. “He was never mentioned in my hearing. I don’t know his role in what happened between her and the Draegloth.”



“Except he showed up a captive the same time they brought Sirana back alive.” Thena smiled nastily at Auslan, who managed not to take a step back as she closed the distance, reaching forward to part his cloak in front.



He resisted, trying to keep it closed, but the Sister jerked the material hard and Auslan allowed it to slip from his grasp rather than rip it; he had no other clothes and it had been a token gesture of protest for him anyway. That they kept speaking aloud in front of him without acknowledging him did not bode well for the comfort of his body. He may consider retreating into his mind…although being unresponsive may only invite more abuse when he became aware again.



Still. It was better than ensnaring them with his magic, wasn’t it? He couldn’t fully participate in this; the consequences of doing so extended further than torn flesh or broken bones. Auslan was truly afraid to find out what might happen later if Red Sisters rather than the Nobles started fighting each other over him…



“Damn it, he’s wearing a wrap,” Moria said, her intense, copper eyes on him.



“Nice what we can see, though,” Suna commented as Thena flipped to cloak atop his shoulders to offer a clearer view, her gloved fingers sliding down to caress his nipples before she stood back to stare at him with the others.



“I’ve never had a Consort before,” the lead Sister murmured softly, her smile sending another trill of fear straight up his spine.



She said, “Take it off.”



Auslan did not pretend that he did not know what she meant this first time she spoke to him directly. He loosened and let his cloak drop to the floor, nudging it underneath his cot with his foot so, hopefully, it would be out of the way where it wouldn’t be soiled or damaged.



“All of it.”



His hands went to his waist to release the hook-and-eye fastenings that kept his wrap snug; the material was warm and only made the air seem that much more chilled as he let it slide down his legs. He stepped out of his sandals at the same time and nudged those to the side as well.



“Shriveled as a dry ‘shroom,” Panagan commented from the door with a smirk. “I thought these Consorts sprang to attention at first glance.”



“Bah. Never met a male that didn’t need some encouragement first,” Thena replied.



She reached to take firm hold of his bare shoulders and spin him around so that he was facing the wall and she could clasp him to the leather armor of her chest. Her muscular arms crossed in front of him and she dragged him around again to face the other Sisters, chuckling greedily. Her body heat was high, as was her musky scent; under other circumstances, he could have found it arousing, but not now.



“No,” he spoke aloud, trying at least once to be completely honest. “Red Sisters, please, this is not a good idea. You may trigger magic I can neither control nor choose how it will affect you.”



The Sisters perked up, both at the sound of his voice and the sure sign of reluctance. They were delighted with both, but ignored the warning. He couldn’t be surprised; he only wished he knew how to be persuasive with Red Sisters besides Sirana. How could he convince he they wouldn’t listen?



“He strips and flaunts in front of us, but waits only until you grab him to mention that?” Panagan said skeptically from the door.



“Yeah. He’s lying. He just doesn’t want his pretty body violated,” Suna said, her face twisting at him. “Think you’re too good for us? No one is.”



Thena purred, “Moria? Care to prime his wand a bit?”



The youngest of them eagerly kneeled to take is flaccid member into her mouth; she certainly had a fair amount of practice and Auslan tensed further in Thena’s grip, feeling himself respond unfortunately quick. Moria moaned around him as he swelled in her mouth, using her tongue and stroking her wet mouth over him.



He shook his head, grimacing. “No, please, do not…”



“Heads up, Moria,” Thena said, then jerked him downward. He’d been unprepared and his knees buckled as Moria mouth slurped off him. “On all fours, whore. Show me that perfect ass.”



It hurt when his knees contacted the bare stone; the dominant Sister had used more force than necessary and he was scraped and bruised. He put more weight on his hands to try to relieve some of the pain, but Moria lay down on her back on the stone, perpendicular to his groin, and dove in head first to reattach herself. She continued to suck him; a groan slipped from his mouth despite his terror of watching Suna in front of him.



Suna had loosened and pulled down her pants and was in the process of donning the magical phallus he had only heard about before now. He watched as she pushed the short, bulb end into her sex and whispered a magic word. He could feel the energy prick at his senses and real life energy flared up in the appendage when it was truly attached.



It looked very real, and she smiled in honest pleasure at having it there, stroking it affectionately. Unfortunately Moria’s mouth created a surge of pleasure in tandem with the Red Sister in front of him and Auslan shuddered.



Suna wasted no time and kneeled in front of him, fisting the hair at his nape and holding her cock with her other hand. She nudged and rubbed the head of her phallus against his lips, and despite his reluctance and slow absorption of this new, unusual role, she soon forced the phallus into his mouth and touched the back of his throat with the tip.



“Don’t you dare bite,” she growled. “Moria will do the same, won’t you, Sister?”



Moria hummed in agreement and kept sucking him, though she had slowed down so as not to bring him to climax too soon.



He felt a flare of resentment as he struggled to service the cock in his mouth, as she thrust roughly and tried to choke him intentionally. She was confusing him, forcing something that he’d done before only in secret, with gentleness and reverence, turning it into something…crass and profane.



He’d understood for decades the theory of how the Sisters turned the expected gender roles into chaos; no matter what the act was, no matter the social context, they could make it humiliating for their target and somehow they remained dominant when another would think the same act was below their station. He had long understood why the Nobles feared it.



Now he was experiencing it firsthand.



Auslan next felt Thena’s bare hands running greedily over his back and haunches, squeezing his buttocks, then she ran one hand up his back to place a finger over the peeling scab on his shoulder blade. He flinched.



“Someone cut him. He’s not perfect all the time, he can bleed.”



“Uh…huh…” Suna managed in a choked voice as she kept thrusting her hips, violating his mouth with her magical phallus.



Thena’s hands returned to squeezing his bottom and they fortunately did not discuss cutting his skin any further. Auslan wondered if that was to be an insult or blow to his pride? He focused only on their ignorance of what that cut actually meant as he waited for the inevitable. When it came, Thena complimented the apparent light usage of his pucker and swirled the pad of her digit in circles around it, adding to the overload of sensation he already felt with his cock in one Sister’s mouth, and another’s cock in his own.



He was no novice to anal play, some of his Mistresses had desired it now and then, but none deigned to ever wear a fake phallus for any reason. It would have demoted them to the servant in the act. Fingers, tongue, a dainty, rod-shaped toy perhaps to stimulate his nut gland…but not this, not like this.



“You must be near virginal for how tense you are, Consort. Here, I’ll be nice,” Thena said as she seemed to detach an item from her belt setting beside her on the floor. “I’ll grease you up, sweet meat.”



A cool, slick goop soon landed on his netherhole and her thumb pushed some of it inside as she worked the rest around the outside. Moria’s mouth increased her tempo on his member and Suna smothered his protests as they used him. Thena lined up her phallus without ceremony and bore down, forcing him open and inexorably pushing deeper into his body. The girth of her cock caused his rectum to sting then start to burn, and the former Consort struggled more as three pairs of hands gripped him hard to keep him in place.



“Stop fighting, slut,” Suna said over another of his muffled shrieks. “It’s going to happen…no matter how you take it.”



“Plenty tight anyway,” Thena grunted as she leaned in. “Ahh…goddess, yes…”



The pressure inside increased as the Red Sister finally lunged in fully, but she then paused for a reason he couldn’t fathom, having fully taken him but not thrusting as he expected. It was only when Moria sped up her pace with her mouth and Auslan felt the rapid rise of climax that he thought he understood; the pressure on his nut gland amplified the sensation well beyond what he knew with females. He was going to come in spite of the fact that he did not want it.



His breath sped up desperately through his nose as he tried to breathe around Suna’s cock and he squealed once as Thena withdrew halfway and thrust back inside his overstretched netherhole. The intense sensation and unrelenting pressure on his gland pushed him over the edge. He shivered as he spurted into Moria’s waiting mouth with a surge of glorious energy, feeling with deep humiliation the way his anus clutched and flexed around his rapist, pleasuring her as he loosed his seed between the lips of another.



The three Red Sisters cheered Moria’s skills, called him lurid names, and Thena spanked his buttocks hard and began truly fucking him as she growled, “So the little Palace Whore likes it, does he?”



Moria pulled off him to swallow his fluid then went back to mouthing him and he squirmed, not wanting her to touch him anymore, it was too sensitive! He couldn’t breathe well and the mounted, fully seated Sister was throwing him off balance as she rode him; he could barely hold himself up.



He had no control, he couldn’t stop them, couldn’t reason with them…he couldn’t think beyond his fear and the way they used his body without acknowledging his existence. Truly a toy and nothing more, their use becoming rougher at both ends now that he’d had his climax.



How was it different with Sirana when she’d done the same to him, forced him and hurt him? Maybe only in that he’d recognized, had known intimately the magic that had been overwhelming her…he could forgive her, she hadn’t been in full control of herself and she had even shown a desire for better restraint later on.

There was no such understanding with these Sisters.



Suna came first in his mouth, and while no spunk touched his tongue, she behaved as if she were drowning him, pushing the tip far down as she could though he fought her still for the right to draw air. Fortunately for him, Thena wasn’t far behind as Suna withdrew from between his swollen, sopping lips; the elder Sister made the same aggressive growl as she slammed her phallus all the way into him and he endured her climax as well, grimacing as Moria still wouldn’t leave his scrotum and flaccid penis alone.



Auslan’s sore netherhole throbbed after Thena pulled out quickly and gave his ass one final slap. He couldn’t imagine enduring it again, yet knew two more Sisters waited now, and then after that…?



Moria’s invasive fondling drew his attention then and he tried to crawl away from her, but she wasn’t having any of that.



“Goddess, his taste,” the youngest Sister murmured, her eyes glazed over. “So wonderful…”



“Yeah, well, it’s your turn, so get humping,” Thena said as she caught her breath and chuckled in satisfaction while removing her phallus from her body. She turned toward the door and began to speak, “Panagan, you want his ass or his m—”



Then everyone paused.



Panagan wasn’t able answer her leader; she wasn’t even able to speak. In the dark, it was apparent that she was suffocating as her heart rate became audible and her life energy surged through her in a fight response, but with an odd disconnect at her neck and head. She stood stiff and trembling and holding her throat.



Auslan saw from the floor a fifth Red Sister in full uniform; her arrival had been unbelievably silent, even with the noise of the struggle. He knew this one, but he did not know how relieved he should be.



“Elder D’Shea.”



Suna had spoken first, sounding just that little bit nervous as she hurried to remove her phallus and close up her leathers. Thena made a gesture at her to warn her to silence. Moria rolled slightly on the ground and moaned softly as she reluctantly dragged her attention away from Auslan, far too slowly for an elite warrior. She acted sluggish and confused, and the former Consort knew she had been affected by his sexual magic as he’d feared.



D’Shea’s face appeared impassive though she held a hand out as if she was pinching dead air. Panagan was holding her throat still and her eyes were wide open in fear.



“Corpora,” the Elder said flatly with a single eyebrow arched in disapproval. She was looking at Thena. “Care to explain, since you’re hushing the others?”



Thena took her time seating her own clothing properly and gave a very slight bow. “Explain what, Elder? We are awaiting other duties from the Prime or you, if you even care to give us any. Our time is our own until then, yes?”



Panagan’s eyes had finally rolled back in her head and she collapsed onto the floor; D’Shea lowered her hand and stopped pinching the air at the same time. The tension was palpable as Auslan shifted partly beneath the cot and curled up on his side, trying to be small as possible. He wasn’t even sure what he might wish would happen next. No good options came to his numbed mind, and his body was falling numb as well as he fought against shock. Every survival instinct screamed that he had to stay awake and aware.



“Beware your tone, Corpora Thena,” D’Shea said softly and in a way that sent a shiver through Auslan. “Why are you here?”



“Forgive me, Elder,” the ringleader responded, seeming not to adjust her tone very much as she thrust a hip out and crossed her arms. “We were bored. Perhaps you have too many of us to manage. Perhaps you might let Qivni take some of the burden until Elder Rausery returns.”



D’Shea’s eyes narrowed a bit and she did not speak.



Instead, she reached into a pouch and brought out what—by Auslan’s best guess—was a small piece of brass and a…feather? Both disappeared into the Elder’s fists and she murmured a few words, and the Consort could not breathe for a split-moment as pure, arcane power swelled inside the cell. His attackers did not have time to move.



With one gesture of D’Shea’s left hand, Suna and Moria were both flung from their spots and against the far wall of the cell by an invisible force, their bodies slamming into it face first with their backs exposed. They were held there as if by some giant, unseen hand. Thena had actually begun to reach for something on her belt as she took a defensive stance, but D’Shea next moved her right hand.



Thena’s head snapped back as if she’d been punched in the nose and, stunned, she dropped the pinch of powder at her own feet. Auslan was aware enough to grab his cloak to filter his nose and mouth and slow his breathing. Thena coughed once but then the air was knocked out of her as magical force struck her square in the gut, then on the back of her head and she collapsed facedown into the powder. The Corpora struggled to breathe and, with one more sweeping gesture on D’Shea’s part, his attacker was lifted up and thrown against the wall next to her Sisters, but face forward. Thena continued to cough and blinked rapidly, wildly trying to focus on the Elder and failing.



“Even Elder Rausery would not be able to hold all three of you helpless like this without some charm from me,” D’Shea said lowly, her magic swirling around her. “If you are so stupid you must be beaten soundly to show your respect, I will gladly oblige.”



With a downward thrust of the Elder’s hand, Thena’s body was slammed again to the floor, then a coordinating upswing of sorceress’s arm saw the Corpora’s back next pinned to the ceiling; every strike sounded painful as it looked and drops of blood were spilling from Thena’s mouth onto the stone directly below her.



“Please, Elder,” she wheezed, choking still, “my ribs…”



“I’ll break more without touching you.”



Thena could barely shake her head. “N-no, Elder…forgive m—”



The invisible hand holding her to the ceiling suddenly let go and she fell free, landing hard and groaning in added agony. D’Shea moved her left arm again and both the other conscious Sisters hit the iron bars and collapsed on top of each other. The Elder reached out into the air and plucked an invisible throat again, and Suna jerked up to her feet in answer, clawing at her neck and was henceforth flung into Thena with battering force. Both screamed in pain, but D’Shea showed no signs of being finished with them.



Auslan, still tucked beneath his cot, could take a little satisfaction in the punishment being meted out. His gut told him it was not on account of their raping him in his cell, it was due to insubordination, and D’Shea’s actions were well beyond that slight, he thought, unless the Elder intended to kill them.



He was uncomfortable with the escalating injuries that his attackers were suffering and didn’t want to have to watch all this. In his past, he often had the opportunity whether to watch punishments or not. Frequently he had chosen not.



Maybe there was something wrong with him, but he didn’t like to watch torture.



D’Shea focused on Moria again and Auslan found himself speaking aloud.



“She is already suffering for her sins, Elder,” he croaked out loud as he dared. “She will suffer for a time yet if she lives.”



The Elder Sister did not look away from her subordinates, did not look at him, but the way her shoulders stiffened meant she had heard him.



“Why is that, Consort?” she asked, her tone brooking no lies or hesitation.



“She drank my seed, Elder,” he said.



D’Shea seemed to hesitate, and of the half of her face that he could see, she seemed to be smiling. Her tone was sarcastic. “Some sort of elixir, is it?”



“Not always, but I lost control,” he said, his voice wavering. He’d been too afraid at the time and hardly remembered even now how it had happened so easily. It had never been so before.



“So she is compromised as well?” she asked with a twinge of bitterness directed at him and he understood the reference to Sirana. Moria herself did not even seem aware that she was being talked about. “For how long?”



“A few cycles at most, if she is not allowed near me again.”



“And the others?”



“They suffer only what you have done to them, Elder.”



There was a pause, and Auslan could feel when D’Shea released her spell entirely. The upsweep in violence had been broken by his speaking out, and all four younger Sisters yet remained on the ground, unconscious and unable to begin it anew.



D’Shea removed a pellet from her belt and broke it between her thumb and middle finger, whispering something he could not hear. Then she turned to him.



“Do cover up and stop hiding underneath that cot, Consort.”



Only when Auslan moved and got to his feet did he feel the sore places in full; his throat, his neck, his knees, his buttocks and rectum. He gingerly pulled the cloak back out and put it around him about the time he heard the upper door open and yet more Sisters trooping down.



He did not recognize any of them and he tried to remain unobtrusive as they surveyed the damage and their softly moaning Sisters. One who had the bearing of a leader looked expectantly at D’Shea.



“Agalia, sequester these four in their quarters until I have time for them. They are to be given no healing draughts before I’ve seen them, and they are not to leave their quarters by any means. Collect their Feldeus and give them to Jaunda when you next see her. You may assign others to guard them, you need not do it yourself though you are held responsible for my orders. Understood?”



The rather comely Drow nodded and bowed in response, her face placid. “Yes, Elder D’Shea. I will see it done.”



She gestured for her Sisters to gather and collect their casualties and they had the cell cleaned out in the span of a handful of heartbeats. The cell door remained open and D’Shea on the outside, and after the last Sister had exited solitary, the Elder turned to peer at the Consort.



“You can walk?” she asked, arms crossed over her chest and that eyebrow arched again.



He nodded. “Yes, Elder.”



“Come with me.”



She walked out of sight down the hall and left the cell door wide open. His heart began to beat wildly as he did not understand or know what to expect, but he gathered his sandals and wrap, tucked them inside his cloak and padded after her barefoot. He met her at the top of the stairs, climbing out of a pit that he had descended into first in the company of two of the only Drow he felt he truly knew, and who truly knew him.



Sirana’s Elder then clasped her gloved fist into his shorn hair again and used it to push him forward and guide him where she wanted him to go. He kept tight hold of his clothes beneath the cloak and kept it closed, and accepted the plain behavior of ownership as D’Shea displayed him in front of several passing Red Sisters. He focused on avoiding a stumble.



Sirana had told him before she left that he could bargain with her Elder and that he should not reject her protection. She had seemed to assume that D’Shea would give it, but he’d been several cycles alone even after Shyntre returned to the Palace. Perhaps now he might bargain; he just hoped the price for that protection wasn’t worse than the tastes of his visitors.



They came to a set of warded, stone doors not unlike many he’d seen in the cloister, except that he could feel the magic permeating the place long before the door slid open. Auslan was not surprised that she had brought him to her personal chambers, and he noted the relative comforts compared to the sparseness of most of the other rooms to which he’d been privy—granted, only an interrogation room and a holding cell, but these barracks had the feel of being very light on the decoration and luxuries. He knew opulence well, and this place had none of it. The cloister could be situated well out on the fringe of the City or into the wilderness, for all he knew.



“Draw a bath, if you like,” D’Shea said, releasing the hold on his hair and stepping away to remove some of the more cumbersome items on her uniform. She lit a candle, and set about to making herself more comfortable.



Auslan did not hesitate long before doing the same; he very much wanted to wash the smell and stickiness from his defiled body. Only rarely did he let the scent of sex remain on him for long anyway; it was too distracting and sometimes he just wanted peace from his primary function.



It was not likely he would know peace again, if he remained alive.



D’Shea more or less ignored him as he drew a bath hot enough for steam to drift along the water’s surface. He eagerly but slowly lowered himself in, the raw parts stinging in protest though he welcomed the cauterizing effect of the heat on his injured flesh. He was allowed to bath himself fully, to wash his hair and even soften the hard scabs on his shoulder, made from D’Shea’s magical extraction of his Priestess’s finding spell.



Former Priestess, he recalled yet again. Sirana had said Wilsirathon had been executed, and he’d known it to be true. He wasn’t sorry; in fact, he felt far more satisfaction at that news than anything else. His first Priestess had been avenged at last.



Ironically, avenged by the Elder who now held him captive for reasons he feared to know.



Now the Bred Consorts had mostly been purged, but for the older ones like himself. There couldn’t be many left, and their value had diminished significantly to the general population. Auslan could imagine whatever Consorts were still alive would start seeing more abuse such as he’d suffered in his cell. A mix of fear and reverence had kept them safe before; now they didn’t have that unseen support, and more of the twisted lusts no longer being restrained would be visited upon them. The Consorts were so strangely beautiful, even for Drow… sometimes what one coveted, one also wanted to destroy if they could not fully possess it.



It may not have made much difference whether he had remained on the outside instead of being held in the Red Sister’s cloister. Curgia had refused to leave him alone, after all, and her behavior had been getting more irrational and violent; she had choked him on more than one occasion as she rode him on his bed. Sooner or later, she might have gone too far.



Now his value would be only what he could earn for himself dealing with an Elder Red Sister almost three times his age. He had few ideas of what she really wanted, although fortunately he did know of two: Shyntre and Sirana.



It would be enough with which to start.



D’Shea sat at her desk next to her candle, a glass of wine next to her as she scribbled down a few things with a fine grain stylus and invisible ink. Her back was not fully to him but she played at ignoring him, even when he got to the point where he simply soaked in her bath and tried not to think about the gang rape.



The Elder Sister did not seem inclined to help him on that score. Soon enough she set down her pen, turned in her seat, and observed him for a few moments before speaking.



“I hope you do not pity yourself, Auslan. You did not suffer anything that both Sirana and Shyntre have not withstood themselves for much, much longer, to the very edge of their endurance.”



He felt part of his mouth twist as an unnamed flood of heat entered his chest. “I am honored by the distinction, Elder Sister. You are correct, I only served two of the four Sisters. Certainly more visits were planned for later, until you showed your displeasure in no uncertain terms. If I may ask, how you came to intervene, Elder Sister?”



Elder D’Shea’s smile had a twist similar to his own. “I keep tabs on you. I knew when they’d arrived. Unfortunately I was a little too far away to prevent it entirely, but you may be grateful for the interruption.”



Auslan felt that strange heat tightening further in his chest, becoming more potent as it affected his ability to draw a full breath. He ground his teeth. D’Shea tilted her head at him.



“Anger? Not a typical show of gratitude, Consort,” she commented with cool derision.



“Because you are lying, Elder Sister,” he said before he lost the nerve. “You may have sensed their arrival, but you did not need to be close enough to stop them. You simply never issued an order regarding my treatment, one way or the other. Lacking any direction, what happened was inevitable and you knew it. I daresay you were waiting for it. You wanted me to be attacked so you could step in as you did.”



His heart pounded in his ears and he trembled from both fear and anger in the warm water, somehow managing to look at her with his jaw clenched tight so his teeth wouldn’t chatter.



The Elder was silent for several moments watching him; he could not read her expression as it changed very little, but he trusted his instinct that she was reworking her plan for their conversation.



“Why would I want that?” she said softly in a low, threatening tone.



He was willing to be honest enough to shudder visibly—she frightened to him, but he also knew he had more value to her than anyone else in this cloister, if only because of Shyntre who was not yet lost to D’Shea the way Sirana was.



He kept looking at the Elder though it took much effort to do so. He also kept going as she ordered.



“I see two benefits for you, Elder Sister. A demonstration of power over some of Elder Rausery’s more impudent Sisters while she is gone, and…also giving me a taste what it will be like to be without your protection.”



The Elder tilted her head slightly.



Auslan hurried to add, “If I may give you this, Elder Sister: letting them attack me was unnecessary to convince me, because Sirana simply asked me to seek your protection. I would have, had you even come to speak with me. I trust her judgment, even if you would blame me for how I healed her and would see me further punished for it.” He paused slightly. “Which may be another reason for the events this eve.”



D’Shea frowned at him and he could not hold the oppressive gaze any longer; he looked down at the water and twisted the washcloth beneath the surface. So much adrenalin coursed through him once again that he did not know what to do or say next.



“Such spirit, Auslan,” she said quietly, still with that undertone of threat. “I hadn’t known any Consort had it in him.”



“You may thank your own son for that, Elder,” he blurted, and instantly regretted it. He just felt so angry that she had let that happen, had practically planned it.



There may have been an air of surprise about her, unless he was mistaken, but the next moment D’Shea actually chuckled and the swell of threat in the room had diminished a little. When she next spoke, she sounded… amused? Rueful?



“Lelinahdara did suggest something like that, yes,” the Elder said, leaning back in her chair and relaxing some. “He had some influence on you early in your life. Perhaps you care to tell me the whole of it?”



Auslan shook his head, still looking at the water. “He was more my brother than any of the other Consorts our age, you already know that. Ask Shyntre if you wish to know more.”



He glanced up and saw the Elder was lightly annoyed.



“I gather you will allow more Sisters to visit my cell now?” he asked with a defiant air not unlike a certain wizard they both knew.



Her eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “Not as of yet. I rarely respond with short-sighted, overbearing methods, Auslan, you may know this about me. It leaves a broken and imperfect tool.”



“And Shyntre would have more reason to hate you, Elder,” he said. “What of his eventual knowledge of this particular event?”



“I knew it wouldn’t break you,” she said stonily. “Not after Sirana.”



“But you were gambling that I would not connect your intentions, Elder.”



“Granted. You are much more intelligent than even my subordinate reported to me. Such an underestimation won’t happen again.”

This story deals with themes of reluctance and coercion against a background of female domination. Please do not read it if you think you might be offended.



Chapter 1



I first saw her at an Arbitration Panel. The opposition had appointed Dawsons as counsel and I expected to be up against “Straight” Jack Daniels so it was a big surprise when Ellen walked into the conference room.



She looked young to be a partner, particularly at Dawsons, but she held herself with an assured air of self confidence.



Her two piece business suit pulled off the trick of being formal but slightly daring with her black skirt worn a couple of inches above the knee. Her makeup was minimal and her face, framed by soft, dark, curls, looked a little stern, until she smiled. Her teeth were not quite perfect but this conferred a naturalness that marked her out as a real beauty.



I was confident of our case going in but she dragged up a precedent that my researchers had missed and I wound up hanging on by my fingernails. It did not help that the arbitrator himself seemed totally smitten.



For days afterwards she remained in my thoughts and I considered giving her a call but that was not my usual style. I have been blessed with good looks of my own and, whilst at university, I had paid my way by doing some modelling. The long and the short of it was that girls normally came on to me.



Fate intervened when I was invited to share a corporate box at the World Cup qualifier and found that she was one of the attendees. She looked totally relaxed, dressed in a linen shirt and tight jeans, drinking Bud from the bottle.



By the end of the game I had drunk a little too much and I wound up making a clumsy pass at her. She laughed it off, said she was in a relationship, and took her leave.



A few days later I did something out of character for me. I phoned Lisa and asked her out for a drink. I suppose you would call us fuck buddies but I knew that, in reality, she wanted it to be more than that. She was a successful commercial property lawyer but, more pertinently, she had recently done some project work for Dawsons.



I think she saw through me when I asked about Ellen but she gave up what she knew anyway. Apparently, Ellen had only recently been made a partner, the youngest in the firm’s history, and was destined for great things. On the personal front, as far as Lisa knew, she had her male admirers but no steady boyfriend.



Now more intrigued than ever, and perhaps a little put out that she had turned me down, I compromised my professional integrity. On the pretext of discussing our arbitration case, which was still pending a formal decision, I invited her out to lunch. Much to my surprise she accepted and I booked a table at Browns.



I was already seated when she arrived formally dressed but looking undeniably sexy. She ordered a salad and mineral water and I had the veal pie. During the meal I kept up the pretence of discussing the case but she cut right across me.



“Look, we both know that you didn’t ask me here to discuss the finer points of the law. Please, don’t take this badly, you’re a cute guy but I think I’m a little too much for you to handle.”



I was unsure if she was talking professionally or personally but decided on the latter and I snorted derisively. I liked to think that I lived life to the full.



For a few seconds her dark eyes held mine.



“Go down on me.”



It was the utter calmness with which she said it that shocked me but I quickly regained my composure and smiled.



“Would you like me to book a hotel room? I know a good one, nice and discrete.”



I wanted to call her bluff and, at the same time, let her know that I was not new to this.



She returned my smile.



“That won’t be necessary. I want you to do it right here, right now.”



She had to be joking. I had deliberately booked one of the booths to allow for some privacy but we were not shut off altogether. She looked amused as I took a quick look around me.



“Wait a moment.”



As she spoke she bent forward a little. With a couple of quick movements she sat up straight again and showed me her hand. She was holding a bunched pair of white panties which she coolly tucked into her handbag.



“Whenever you’re ready…”



I now felt trapped by my own bravado. If I chickened out I just made her point for her.



The linen tablecloth fell almost to the floor and so the chances of being seen once beneath it were minimal but I found it incredulous that I was even contemplating it. I decided that she was simply engaging in a little brinkmanship; if I did kneel beneath the table she would probably squeal and drag me back up into my seat again.



Now that I had seen through her I smiled, checked that no one was looking, and slid under the table.



She did not squeal. Instead, she hitched her skirt and slowly splayed her legs.



I noted, peripherally, how toned and smooth they were but my eyes were riveted on her lewdly revealed sex. Fortunately, she was immaculately depilated as the natural look has never appealed to me.



In truth, performing oral sex held no great attraction. Of course, nowadays, more and more women expected it but, in my book, the quicker the better and, if it could be avoided altogether then great.



I gave her points for her chutzpah but I was still convinced that she was not expecting me to go through with it. Smiling, I leaned forward and placed a single kiss high on her mons hoping to catch her by surprise.



“Nice, but you’ll have to do better than that.”



I have to admit that her remark took me aback. The choice was mine, I could retake my seat and call it a day or I could do as she asked and wait to see where it led; perhaps, even, a little reciprocation on her part.



I was now more acutely aware of my surroundings, not least the muted conversations of other diners, but I felt reasonably secure in the shrouded darkness.



I braced myself and took a first tentative lick and was surprised to find that she did not seem aroused. This suggested that she really was acting on a whim and I found it a little unsettling.



I decided that a more direct approach was needed. I shifted my weight a little so that I had the use of my hands but she nudged the side of my head with her knee.



“Just your tongue…”



I was growing angry now and I was strongly tempted to just get up and leave but, perversely, I found myself considering the consequences if, at some point in the future, we found ourselves on opposite sides of a court room. I was determined that, from a psychological standpoint, she was not going to leave with the upper hand.



With a complete lack of subtlety I licked her a couple of times and then pressed my mouth to her sex and tried to push my tongue inside.



She still seemed unmoved but there was a hint of something familiar. I persevered and an initial sharp tang yielded to a more mellow taste. With almost obscene ease she was transforming from a reluctant virgin to a whore in heat.



Her neat sex felt as if it had grown in size and was preparing to devour me. Within seconds she was leaking moisture and, in the confined space, the scent of her arousal had a frightening intensity.



In my shirt and tie I began to feel uncomfortably warm but I could now feel her muscles clenching and holding my tongue in place. For a second or two it became difficult to breathe as my nose was pressed more closely to the heated maw but then she suddenly relaxed.



She had not reached a climax, of that I was sure, but she was content to have reached a plateau.



“Enough…”



At first I had been reluctant but now, with a painful erection demanding attention, I would have willingly continued. My hope was that this contrived scene was just a little foreplay and that we could move on to the main event as soon as we left the restaurant.



I got up from the floor, grateful for some fresh air, and sat back down again. My face was wet and I reached for my napkin but she put her hand on mine.



“Leave it…”



I reeked of her but she seemed amused by it and the more so when the waiter brought the bill. The eventual look of recognition in his eyes was followed by one of disbelief and she could barely contain her laughter.



On the pavement outside I hinted about a hotel but she was writing a number on her business card.



“I’ll give you a chance to finish what you started…but make sure you shave a lot closer next time.”



Her tone sounded a little condescending. I was not sure what to make of it as I unconsciously leaned forward to kiss her cheek in farewell but she smiled even as she wrinkled her nose.



“I don’t think so, do you?”



Chapter 2



Over the next few days I bedded three women, Lisa amongst them, but there was a hollowness about each encounter. Ellen still haunted my thoughts even though I had convinced myself that I would not call her up.



The trouble was that her remark about being “too much to handle” still rankled.



Working late at the office one night I picked up her business card with her personal number penned on the reverse. I looked at it for a long time before arriving at what, for me, amounted to a sensible decision and dismissively threw it into the bin.



A couple of weeks passed and life moved on. I could not put her out of my mind all together but the memory was certainly fading. Then events conspired against me.



I received a call from the Arbitrator summoning me to a late afternoon meeting. This was unusual in itself in that decisions in such cases were unappealable and usually notified in writing.



Ellen was there when I arrived and I gave her a cursory acknowledgement before taking a seat. The Arbitrator started off by telling us that he had had difficulty in arriving at his judgement and that he had called us in to explain his reasoning.



This was not good. I had told my clients that the case was a slam dunk and now I sat there stony faced as he announced a proportionate award. It went sixty forty in our favour but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that it was a victory for Ellen.



Afterwards she offered to buy me a drink and it was tempting to make an excuse but I did not want to be accused of sour grapes.



We went next door to the wine bar which was quickly filling up with barristers and law clerks but we found a couple of spare bar stools. Ellen remained totally professional and she was magnanimous in victory. She told me that my researchers had let me down and that she had got lucky in the choice of Arbitrator.



Throughout, I tried to gauge her interest in me but she gave no clear signals and I prepared to call it a day.



We were both going south of the river and shared a taxi. When we arrived at her address I was suitably impressed and did a mental calculation of the value of the large town house. As I did so she must have read my thoughts.



“I share the lease with a couple of friends. Just because I’m not interested in a long term relationship doesn’t mean that I have to live alone.”



Seemingly on a whim she turned in her seat.



“Come in for coffee. You can meet them.”



I let her lead me inside and found the interior to be no less impressive that the exterior facade. The ground floor was dominated by a large, airy, reception room with French doors leading to a well kept garden.



Seated, watching television, on one of a pair of matched sofas, was a stunning looking blonde. She was wearing a short bath robe, with her legs curled under her, but I had the impression that she was tall.



Her hair was damp and hung heavily as she allowed it to dry naturally but she had already applied her makeup. Silver grey eye shadow accented her clear blue eyes and her full lips glinted with a coating of pale pink lip gloss.



“Naomi, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.”



The blonde limply raised a hand before turning back to her programme and Ellen smiled as she chided her.



“Naomi’s off men at the moment. Wait here and I’ll introduce you to Beth.”



Naomi did not seem minded to strike up a conversation and so I examined some of the prints on the walls. It was an eclectic mix. There was a Modigliani, an Yves Tanguy, and an image of Sophia Loren in basque and stockings from the film ‘The Millionairess”.



Ellen returned with Beth in tow. I suppose her name had led me to expect an English girl but her friend had dark Levantine features. It was not a look that normally appealed to me but she was something special.



She was wearing a loose white shift over a pair of thin harem pants which emphasised her dusky skin tone and the fluid movement of her body as she walked. She had an extraordinary poise and her face was made all the more startling for being totally devoid of makeup.



Her large eyes were dark brown, almost black, but sparked with vitality and her smile, displaying perfect white teeth, was captivating.



She was far more approachable than Naomi and, whilst coffee was prepared, I learned that she was a qualified vet. Naomi, it transpired, was p.a. to a director of an investment bank.



Ellen rejoined us and, as we chatted, I was wondering what my chances with Beth would be. When I had finished I put my empty cup down on to coffee table and, for the first time, noticed the plastic sculpture placed in the centre.



It was cast in clear acrylic, about five inches tall, and looked like a partially melted candle that was slowly keeling over. It was intriguing if only because it seemed so tacky in comparison with the other pieces in the room including a nice selection of Murano glass.



Ellen saw where I was looking and laughed.



“I see you’ve spotted our little wager.”



My bemusement must have shown because she continued.



“Naomi was, until recently, engaged to be married but she called it off.”



At this point Naomi frowned but Ellen ploughed on.



“Her husband to be had planned a stag weekend in Amsterdam but Naomi didn’t trust him. She was insisting that he wore this.”



She held up the plastic object and its purpose became hideously apparent. I could not see exactly how it worked but it was clearly designed as a cock restraint. Naomi unsuccessfully tried to maintain a stern visage but burst out laughing.



“He refused to wear it and I called the whole thing off.”



It sounded to me as if that was exactly her intention and she was simply trying to find an excuse. I was not warming to her and even less so as she continued.



“Since then the three of us have been adding money to a pool every week. The first one of us who can persuade a man to wear it gets to scoop the pot.”



It sounded absurd but I had no difficulty in believing it of Naomi, perhaps even Ellen, it was Beth that surprised me. I had her pegged as less assertive than the other two but the smile that crossed her face as she awaited my reaction suggested a hitherto unseen side to her nature.



I decided that the time had come to leave. I asked to use the bathroom and I was just finishing up when Ellen walked in. I was sure that I had locked the door but she was standing there with a flush of excitement on her face.



She stepped closer to me and pressed the flat of her hand to my groin. This turn of events caught me completely off guard leaving me to wonder just exactly what was on offer.



“I want you to wear it for me.”



She spoke quickly as if she had only just arrived at the decision.



I paused before answering.



“You want me to put it on so that you can win your bet?”



I hoped my tone conveyed the sense of ‘no way in hell’.



“No, you can have the money if you like, I want to know just how close to the edge you’re prepared to play.”



Alarm bells were ringing but the natural competitor in me was rising to the fore. There was no way that I was going to let her think that she had got the better of me once again. She must have seen the wavering look in my eyes because, with a magicians flourish, she produced the contraption from behind her back.



With a sly smile she held it up and gently kissed it and I felt an involuntary twitch between my legs. Then she pressed it into my hand.



“See you in a moment.”



With that she was gone leaving me feeling faintly ridiculous. The only advantage to this was that Ellen would get to see just what she might be missing. I consider myself to be in good shape and, when compared to the average, well endowed.



I stripped off, grateful that I had recently topped up my tan, and began to examine the device. The fitting was simple enough. A ring closed at the root, behind my sac, and the enclosure cage was then slipped on to mate with it.



It had spacers to accommodate different sizes but, curiously, it needed no adjustment to fit me.



I smiled to myself as I examined the image that the mirror presented. It weighed very little, in spite of its rigid construction, and there was no discomfort. The only problem was that it seemed to make me look smaller than I knew myself to be in reality.



I was still checking myself out when Ellen came back in. For a second or two she took stock, appreciatively looking me up and down, but then her eyes fixed on my groin.



“Oh, that is so beautiful.”



I flattered myself that she was referring to my physical attributes but she quickly turned on her heel saying.



“Wait, wait, wait!”



She disappeared for a few seconds but almost immediately returned. It took me a moment to realize what she was doing but, before I could think to stop her, she had affixed and locked a dinky padlock onto the device.



“There, now you can come and show the others.”



I was in serious need of a reality check as I walked into the living room but my ego was stoked when both Naomi and Beth gave me approving looks.



Naomi stood up and clapped her hands.



“We have a winner.”



Ellen gave a mock bow and I decided that they had had their fun. I started to turn back towards the bathroom to collect my clothes when Naomi grabbed my arm.



“Hold on.”



She was still wearing her robe and she slowly loosened the sash that held it at her waist. Her movements were confident and controlled as she shrugged her shoulders allowing the gown to slide down her back to the floor.



The others seemed completely unfazed by this display of nakedness but I could do nothing but admire. Her pinched waist accentuated the curve of her hips but it was her breasts that got my attention.



They were beautifully rounded, neither too large nor too small, with nipples that looked like burnished copper disks. My tongue stirred in my mouth but my appreciation was cut short by a sudden ache between my legs.



My manhood was attempting to make its natural response only to be thwarted by the restraint. She saw my expression and immediately began to laugh.



“It clearly does everything it says on the tin.”



I was still trying to come up with a smart comeback when Ellen gently tugged me by the arm. I turned towards the bathroom but she ushered me towards the adjacent door.



She opened it to reveal a large bedroom with beautifully fitted furniture suggestive of lavish expenditure. The bed itself was huge and I was envious of the large flat screen TV that was actually set into the opposite wall without a cable in site.



I assumed that I had earned my reward, and I waited for her to produce the key, but there was a look of devilment in her eyes.



“Seeing you like that is making me so fucking horny.”



The expletive shocked but, at the same time, excited. It was so at odds with her cultured professional persona.



She began to undress. It was not an unveiling more an urgent need. Clothes were quickly strewn until she stood naked by the bed. For the moment she remained still and I had the feeling that she was challenging me to make a comparison with Naomi but she was in no way inferior.



Hers was a more athletic build but with an essential femininity. Her breasts were modest but her dark nipples, already distended, had an arrogant pout. Her legs were long with a discrete musculature that had me imagining them twined around my waist as she urged herself on.

She was not tanned but she had an almost Mediterranean complexion. The overall impression was one of radiant good health but, more than that, the suggestion of a demanding lover.



She was obviously a woman used to being admired and, even naked, she held herself with a certain arrogance. It was extremely arousing but that simply translated into a sharp pain as my burgeoning erection was cruelly constricted.



A half smile touched her lips as she sat down on the bed and slowly parted her legs.



“We have a little unfinished business.”



My immediate urge was to throw her on the bed and engage in a feral, no holds barred, bout of lovemaking but, in order to do that, I needed her to free me. All I had to do was ask but some stubborn instinct held me in check.



Instead, I decided that I would play her at her own game. Whilst performing oral sex is not my favourite pastime I do consider myself to be a skilful practitioner. I decided that I would arouse her so much that it would be her doing the begging.



I went to my knees and surveyed her sex which was lit by the glare of the setting sun softened only by a set of voile curtains at the window. It looked perfectly formed and inviting, the sharp divide already a little open.



On entering her room I could not help but notice that it smelt distinctly feminine, not least because her perfume still lingered in the air, but now it was overlain with a different womanly scent. She was already very excited and that could only make my task easier.



It was tempting to plunge straight in but I remained composed. I trailed kisses slowly up her inner thigh until I reached the border of her mons. I dwelt there a while, tracing way my along the crease, and was pleased as she gave an appreciative squirm.



Building on my success I switched my attention to her other leg and repeated the manoeuvre prompting her to open her legs wider still.



I decided that the time had come to take things up a notch but I was shocked to find that the coverlet beneath her was being discoloured by a slowly expanding dampness. I flatter myself on my appeal, and my prowess, but I could not see that my efforts up to that point would be enough to account for her excitement.



My intention had been to tease her just a little more but, as I slowly drew my tongue over her pudenda, her sex seemed to part and my tongue was embraced by the delicate folds of her inner lips.



I was very experienced but I had never encountered anything quite like this. She demonstrated a degree of control over her own body that was unsettling but a renewed pain from my groin signalled approval.



If her inner heat could be taken as a measure of her arousal then she was very close to the edge. Her taste was flooding my mouth but, outwardly, she retained a cool demeanour.



I shifted myself just a little, so that I could focus on her clitoris and regain the initiative, but she put her hand on my head to keep me where I was. I felt my tongue being gently squeezed, an odd rippling motion, and then I was sucked deeper.



I was almost at full stretch but her body tensed and a fresh gout of moisture heralded the onset of an orgasm.



Her mouth was firmly closed and she took rapid, controlled, breaths though her nose this being the sum total of her apparent response. Her climax ebbed as quickly as it had arrived and I was left back at square one.



My initial plan may have failed but I certainly felt that I had done enough to find favour and the thought provoked another twinge of discomfort.



I began to extricate my tongue but she gave an admonitory squeeze.



“Not yet, I haven’t finished.”



Her greediness was beginning to make me angry but, unusually for me, I did not react. There was, perhaps, an opportunity to bring my plan to fruition after all. I presumed that she was still buzzing and it would not take much, on my part, to bring her back to the boil.



By this stage I could have done with a drink. My mouth was thick with the taste of her but I did not want to lose the moment. She relaxed a little, allowing my imprisoned tongue a degree of freedom, and I began to work at her with a series of teasing thrusts.



As I pressed home her muscles sought to hold me but each time I slipped away only to push again when I felt the tension ease off. In this way we fell into a rhythm but the minutes stole by without me getting any nearer to my goal.



At one point I decided that a change of tactics was needed but she seemed to read my mind and gently slapped my face with her thigh to keep me in situ.



Through it all she was still lubricating freely and I was having to swallow regularly to keep my mouth clear. The taste and smell of her was dulling my senses but it did nothing to alleviate the growing aches in my jaw and my knees.



After a further lengthy spell I felt as if I was zoning out but she wanted my total attention. She slipped her legs over my shoulders and twined her ankles slowly pulling me in. I was pressed hard against the furnace of her sex and it became difficult to breathe.



I could no longer use my tongue but it ceased to matter. Her powerful thighs were constricting the sides of my head with an unremitting, pulsing, pressure as she started to come for a second time.



At its zenith she was squeezing so hard that my ears began to ring but, as she finally relaxed, I became aware of a new sound. It was the peal of laughter punctuated by the clapping of hands.



As I gathered myself I was astonished to find Naomi and Beth standing behind us looking on with amusement.



“You enjoyed that one.”



I assumed that Naomi was addressing her remark to Ellen and not to me but, if I was surprised by their openness with one another, I was even less prepared for what happened next.



Naomi slipped off her gown and sat down next to her flat mate; as though choreographed Ellen brought her legs together as Naomi opened hers wide. The import was obvious but I remained stunned to disbelief.



“Come on soldier, the three of us? It must be the chance of a lifetime.”



As she spoke, Ellen gave her room and she moved across a little leaving me staring between her legs.



Compared to Ellen her sex was markedly different. Her inner lips were protuberant, like the petals of some exotic orchid on which tiny droplets caught the sun and proclaimed her arousal.



The turn of events had me reeling and, for reasons I could not explain, I felt a measure of apprehension but the very idea of being able to spend the night with these three goddesses had my heart pounding.



The problem was that the stronger my heartbeat the greater the pain from what would otherwise have been a fierce erection. I put my hand to my groin but found no ease. I had to stand up and do something about it but, as I made to move, Beth knelt down beside me.



She slipped her arm around my shoulder and put her face next to mine. She was wearing a subtle perfume which seemed perfectly suited to her, and I was reminded that I must still smell strongly of Ellen, but she did not seem to notice.



“Don’t you think she’s beautiful?”



I wondered if, perhaps, there was something between them and this sent more blood coursing south with the inevitable result but, even as I winced, Beth applied a gentle pressure and whispered.



“Show me what you can do…”



The fact was that I had no great desire to perform for Naomi’s benefit. That is not to say that I did not find her attractive. Under other circumstances I would have bedded her in a flash. It was her disdainful attitude that irritated me, her cocksure assumption that I would comply.



I think that, but for Beth’s inducement, I would have refused but there was something bewitching about her. With Ellen the appeal lay in the directness of her no nonsense approach but with Beth it was something more subtle. It was as if she were offering an invitation to hidden places with new experiences and I was slyly lured in.



Her hand was now at the back of my head, her fingers twining in my hair, but all the time urging me downwards.



As I surrendered to the closure of Noami’s thighs I caught the freshness of shower gel on her skin but this was quickly swamped by a more natural scent which was reinforced as my tongue met the plump softness of her labia.



I tried to press inside but the slickness of her lips made it difficult. My continued attempts resulted in me licking along the sensitive fringes and this was much to her liking. She stretched languorously and began to stroke the back of my head as Beth slowly withdrew.



“That’s so nice…just take your time.”



It was no longer the act itself but the fact of being watched, even judged, that I found disconcerting. In some indefinable way it felt demeaning but I could not back out without losing face.



I carried on licking until she demanded more and I felt a brief moment of triumph as she brought her fingers into play to lay her clitoris open to my attentions.



It was deep set within its fleshy folds but her reaction as I began to use the tip of my tongue was immediate. She gasped and became very still, not wanting me to stop, but, at the same time, I could feel within her the urge to ride with the waves of pleasure that she was experiencing.



The tension created by these disparate impulses fed her developing climax to the point where all control was lost. Her body began to quake and she clawed at the counterpane with her fingernails.



I hooked my arms under her legs so that I could stay with her but it was all I could do just to keep my mouth on her sex.



She was cursing under her breath and, like Ellen, she found relief by squeezing my head between her legs. She was not as strong but the results were equally distressing. As she started to come I was jolted back and forth with no concern for my weakened neck.



Each time I thought it was over she confounded me by applying renewed pressure as she sought to wring out every last drop.



Such was my physical state that it was a few seconds before I realized that I had been released but I was pleased to see that she looked unsteady on her feet.



I knew that Beth would want a turn but I had nothing left to give. I would never have thought that it could be so exhausting.



At least they now seemed sympathetic to my plight. Ellen took my hand and helped me up and I gratefully flopped onto the bed. She lay beside me smiling as she ran a finger across my cheek.



“Look how red you are.”



Naomi, still naked, joined us so that I was lying trapped between them It was a scene that would have had any man bursting at the prospect but I groaned in painful frustration. When Beth slid onto the bed as well it was almost more than I could bear.



She was still wearing her shift but as she rose up over me I saw that she had removed her harem pants. For a fleeting moment I thought that she was sporting a black thong but then realized that her mons was dressed with a dense growth of short dark hair.



It formed a sharp, expensively maintained, inky black triangle and I tried to escape as her intent became clear.



Ellen and Naomi, anticipating my move, gently but firmly held me in place as Beth slid her knees over my shoulders.



“Beth, I’m finished.”



I smiled up at her apologetically but to no avail.



“Oh no you haven’t.”



Ellen and Naomi formed the walls of my tomb and Beth proceeded to seal me in. She inched forward and then slowly descended shutting out the light. She had a slighter frame than the others but the weight now bearing down on me was suffocatingly heavy.



To add to my discomfort her dark pelt was sodden and, as she settled on my face, it was like trying to breathe through a damp cloth. I tried not to panic knowing that, in extremis, I could fight my way free but the moral code that a man did not hurt a woman was deeply ingrained.



I did attempt a struggle, which could be construed as playful, but they immediately pinned me more tightly and I caught the muffled sound of laughter.



I reacted by refusing to co-operate. As far as I was concerned the game was over but they had other ideas. I felt their hands stroking my body teasing my chest, stomach and thighs and then a surer grip at my groin.



Knowing fingers were kneading my sac, setting up a sensation that was almost painful, and then I felt a thumb tormenting the very tip of my manhood through the imprisoning cage. I jerked my hips involuntarily and then grimaced as the thrust of my erection was bitten back.



They returned to stroking my body until I calmed down but then I was gripped once more. The touch felt a little different this time but the result was the same. The cage allowed just enough access for a devilish intrusion and I opened my mouth in a silent, frustrated, scream.



Beth judged the moment to perfection and settled more fully on my face with her sex filling my mouth. Moisture escaped her like a squeezed sponge adding her taste to the cocktail that I had already swallowed.



She wanted my tongue but I felt completely drained not helped by the fact that I was sweating freely in the fetid darkness.



Still their hands continued to stroke and tantalize but I was starting to feel detached from reality. Finally, Beth lost patience; if I was not prepared to give then she was going to take. She lifted herself fractionally and then began to rub herself over my features.



At first her movements were constrained but as my face became wetter she increased her tempo until she was jerking her hips at a frantic rate and I could hardly breathe. I began to struggle but, with the help of the others, she simply rode me down.



I knew I had to fight them off but I felt myself getting light headed and the last thing that I remembered with any clarity was Beth screaming into my face.



“Stay with me you bastard!”



Chapter 3



As I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror I could only put it down to temporary insanity. Their laughter, as they ushered me into a taxi, still rang in my ears.



My sleep had been fitful but, having showered and shaved, I felt a little less jaded. My jaw ached and my face still felt sore but there were no outward signs of my ordeal unless, of course, you included the fact that I was still locked in the restraint.



They had pushed all the right buttons telling me that I had proved myself a real man with a unique understanding of a woman’s needs. My reward? The promise of a weekend foursome and the chance to be seen out with all three of them with bragging rights.



As I thought more about it their insight was almost uncanny. Sex, with three of the most beautiful women imaginable, amounted to a lottery win but there was almost something more beguiling about the idea of presenting them to my friends afterwards and assuring myself of legendary status.



They just wanted me to play a game.



They told me that there was just a single key to the padlock. I was to be given the opportunity to spend time with each of them in turn and then I had to guess which one of them was the keyholder.



I do not recall actually giving my agreement but it suddenly seemed accepted that the game was on. I definitely remember thinking that the restraint was merely symbolic and that it would not take a great of effort to remove it.



How wrong could I be?



On taking my leave of the girls I was suffering with one of the worse cases of blue balls imaginable. I decided that I would try and sleep it off but I kept on waking with my hand between my legs and the nagging ache of a thwarted erection.



Now that it was time for work I convinced myself that it was simply a matter of self discipline. Fortunately, the restraint was not obvious under my trousers and, for minutes at a time, I almost forgot that I was wearing it.



The trouble started as soon as I left the car park and entered the office. I was used to the attention that I received from the young women about the building, not least the secretarial staff, but I had not realized the extent to which my body reacted to it. In each case it was only a minor stirring but enough to remind me of my predicament.



I made it to my office and fired up my PC. I needed to bring myself up to speed on current developments in European employment law. I had been entrusted with, potentially, one of the most lucrative cases in the history of the firm. I knew that, if I pulled it off, I would make senior partner and my name would be added to the firm’s letterhead.



It was a major commission for someone of my experience but I had an edge having spent a year of my degree course studying ‘droit communautaire’ at the Sorbonne.



I became so engrossed that I did not notice Mrs. P when she came into the room. The tea trolley service was an anachronism and I was not aware of any other firm that maintained the tradition. Mrs. P had started out in the job as a sixteen year old and now, in her late forties, she was regarded as an institution.



She always sported the same apron, tightly cinched, to make the most of her ample charms which were further accentuated by the open neck blouses that she chose to wear. It was almost de rigeur to flirt with her.



“Trying to ignore me?”



She placed my usual cup of Assam on the desk and straightened a stray curl.



“Of course not Mrs. P. How could I?”



We had exchanged this playful banter almost every day since I arrived but today there was something different. My eyes lingered just a little too long on her exposed cleavage and I was unusually aware of her distinctive perfume.



I was told that she was quite a beauty in her day and even now, as a divorced mother of two, she could hold her own with women years younger.



“Not quite yourself today? Those young ladies wearing you out? You need someone to look after you.”



It was nothing that she had not said a hundred times before but today it seemed imbued with a fresh significance. I told myself that it was nonsense but a sudden cramp in my groin had me involuntarily reaching beneath the desk.



“Sorry, Mrs P. I must get on.”



She looked at me, at first, a little strangely but then with a vestige of a knowing smile on her lips.



“I’ll close the door behind me shall I?”



As she walked from the room my eyes dropped to her shapely backside and there was definitely just a little more sashay about her.



As soon as the door was closed I unfastened my trousers but, instead of freeing my erection, my hand found the unyielding perspex that denied it.



I cursed in frustration and tidied myself up.



Instead of returning to my research I called up the browser and typed in ‘chastity device’.



I had deliberately avoided the word ‘belt’ in my search terms to try and exclude references to medieval maidens but, nevertheless, I still expected the results to be heavily weighted towards female chastity.



I was surprised, therefore, to find an extensive netherworld devoted to present day male chastity both voluntary and involuntary. It seemed to be an accepted gay sub-culture but that was negligible when set against bulk of the material available which put in very much in the arena of female dominance.



I was particularly shocked by the many cases where men were being denied sex altogether whilst still being expected to fulfil the needs of their partners. Lost in thought I looked away from the screen and stared at the guest chair in the corner of the room. An image came unbidden to my mind in which Mrs P. occupied the chair whilst I prostrated myself before her.



It was a ridiculous idea but the renewed pain from the device brought a tear to my eye and I had to reach for a tissue.



I decided to take an early lunch but made of the mistake of taking a walk in the park where the office girls in their summer dresses put a severe strain on my self control.



In the afternoon I knuckled down and I was almost in a position to put the finishing touches to my case papers which had taken the best part of three months to prepare. I just needed to collate the material prepared by my two paralegals and I was ready for court.

Feeling satisfied with myself I headed home. I decided that the nonsense had to stop and I was determined to remove the restraint as soon as possible.



I showered and then went to the kitchen to survey my meagre collection of household tools. In sum total I had a hammer, an adjustable screwdriver and a craft knife none of which were going to be of much help.



On closer examination the padlock appeared to be an expensively engineered piece so snugly fitted that it would be difficult to introduce a tool and, whilst I might kid myself, my chances of picking the lock were zero.



This left me to consider the device itself. It was close fitting and I would have to be exceedingly careful. There was no way that I was going to make attempt with a saw and bolt cutters seemed a brutal option; besides, I had read a couple of accounts of men who had made wound up with lacerations.



The fact was that it would have been much easier to enlist the help of someone else but I was not, as yet, prepared to face the embarrassment.



I was still pondering my options when the phone rang. It took me a second or two to recognize Naomi’s voice.



“Dress nicely and take down this address.”



Every instinct told me not to go but I decided that if I met her face to face she would see that I was serious and that it had to end.



The taxi dropped me at an address near the embassy district in a street of terraced Georgian houses. Each was set out on four floors and must have been worth millions but the discrete brass plates on the entrance pillars showed that they were now home to a number of different private banks and wealth funds.



My first thought was that Naomi had brought me to where she worked but when her taxi arrived she led me to a side street where the houses were no less impressive but were clearly private residences.



She looked stunning in a pale blue sheath styled dress but there was no time for small talk as she led me up the entrance steps to the first house in the row. At the door she tapped in an eight digit code and ushered me into an opulently furnished hallway.



There was a liveried doorman standing next to an elevator and he nodded to Naomi in recognition as she pressed the call button.



I followed her in and was mildly surprised when the lift descended rather than ascended.



We were decanted into what appeared to be a private bar but, more than that, there was a sense of exclusivity and discrete wealth.



The walls were wood panelled and beautifully carved to match the leather seats and tables. The carpet, with its Islamic geometric design, looked exquisite and must have cost a king’s ransom



By contrast the bar itself was more modern and its backdrop was a wall of malt whiskey bottles from distilleries only one or two of which I recognized.



There were only two other patrons; both were in suits but one was also wore a gutrah, marking him out as an Arab, whilst his companion looked Eastern European. They both glanced appreciatively in Naomi’s direction as she took a seat and invited me to sit opposite her.



A waitress came to take our order but she was a waitress like no other. Wearing a form fitting cocktail dress she was a living dream. It was as if she were a movie star whose name I could not quite place.



I was so entranced that I simply nodded when Naomi suggested cocktails. Moments later the drinks were served but this time by another girl equally as stunning.



The cocktail tasted strong but I sipped it without thought as I watched a number of these hostesses come and go. Ellen, Naomi and Beth would cause men to stop in the street but there was something almost ethereal about the beauty of these young women. I put them all in their early twenties and each spoke with an educated, cut-glass, accent.



I realized that I had almost finished my drink barely having spoken to Naomi who seemed amused by my captivation. A second cocktail materialized but I hardly noticed. I was watching the arab who was whispering to one of the girls.



She leaned over a little to catch what he was saying but, at the same moment, she shot a glance in my direction and my breath caught in my throat. Her eyes, set beneath perfectly sculpted dark eyebrows, were deep blue and seemed to see right through me. As she stood up again she shook out her lustrous black hair which hung to the small of her back.



There was an brief exchange between the girls at the bar and then music began to float in the air. There were no visible speakers but the clarity and vibrancy was beyond anything I had ever heard before.



A drum and double bass were laying down a soothing rhythm and then they were joined by single trumpet. I immediately recognized the style of Chris Botti but I had never heard it quite like this. It was like being immersed in sound.



The dark haired girl came over to our table and stood beside me. She flashed me an obscenely perfect smile and then closed her eyes. For a few seconds nothing happened but then the music seemed to flow through her and she began to move.



It began as a gentle sway but, as the notes began to soar, she used her arms and hips to create a physical embodiment of the sound. It was a slow, sensuous, interpretation but her movements enticed the eye to take in the contours of her body from her beautifully shaped breasts to the litheness of her long legs.



I am well travelled, and have been to any number of lap dancing clubs and strip joints, but I had never seen anything so charged with eroticism. It helped that the music was a favourite of mine but there was an imminent danger that, henceforth, I was forever going to associate it with an agonizing pain in the groin.



When it was over she smiled and left without a word. It was a few seconds before I managed to collect myself and turned my attention to Naomi.



“Should I have given her something?”



She laughed.



“Don’t be so crass. She probably earns several times what you make in a year, but then they do have an incredibly short shelf life.”



With that she beckoned one of the other girls and whispered a few words and I took the opportunity to drain my second drink. I did not know what was in it but it was certainly starting to have an effect. I noticed that Naomi had hardly touched hers.



As I put down my glass the dark haired girl came back to the table, and I wondered if she was going to dance again, but she remained standing by my chair.



“Naomi tells me that you wanted to thank me.”



It was a surprise that the girl and Naomi apparently knew one another but not nearly as big a surprise as what came next. The girl reached behind her back and slowly unfastened the zip of her dress. Then, looking at me as if I were a simpleton, she smiled.



“It’s probably better if you kneel.”



Another of the hostesses appeared at my shoulder and took custody of the dress as if this were all perfectly normal and I was vaguely aware that the arab and his companion had lit up cigars and had turned their chairs towards us.



The girl stood in just her underwear but it looked as if it was custom made for her. Her breasts filled the cups of her bra like a mould, accentuating their delightful uplift, and the silk embroidery of her panties seemed designed to draw the eye to the smooth curve of her sex.



The same pattern was repeated in the welts of her dark stockings which were supported by a simple garter belt.



On another woman the look may have appeared a little trashy but this was the polar opposite. She smiled, confident in the effect that she was having on everyone in the room male and female.



The audience swelled as two more hostesses drifted into the circle to watch the proceedings but the girl paid them no heed her eyes holding mine in a steady gaze.



“I’m waiting.”



I felt a little odd, as if it was just me alone in the room with this young goddess who knew my every desire. All assertiveness seemed drained from me and I experienced a sense of disembodiment as I knelt before her.



My hands were shaking like a callow adolescent as I reached out to ease her panties down her legs. As she stepped out of them I slowly raised my eyes to the smooth perfection of her sex.



It had a pampered sheen and I felt an almost uncontrollable urge to trace its shape with my tongue.



I hesitated for an instant as I tried to come to terms with this desire but she saw right through me. Many had knelt at this particular shrine and many more would give all that they had to do so.



The background murmur increased in volume threatening to intrude but she remained in control.



“You may begin…”



I wanted to open my mouth wide and swallow her whole but it was not befitting. Instead, I held myself in check, extended my tongue, and slowly roamed over the full extent of her firm mound.



She indulged me for a moment or two but then she placed her hand on my head and began to guide me.



She kept me from the opening itself and eased me downwards to where a glistening trickle of moisture was escaping her. As I licked I audibly breathed in her scent and there was laughter from the gathering.



I knew that she was playing to gallery but I did not care. My single focus was that flawless delta and I groaned as she finally allowed me a more intimate contact.



I sealed my lips to her, accepting her offering, and caressed with my tongue as I pressed ever deeper.



She remained still, fully in command, but, inside, her body told a different story. She began to deliquesce and my tongue was bathed in warm moisture transmitting her taste.



I formed the impression that I had exceeded her expectations, that this was now something more than just putting on a show, but as her climax began to bloom she retained her composure. I had to swallow hard but her legs barely quivered as it broke over her.



She pushed me from her to a round of applause and I felt the heat of embarrassment added to my already reddened face. She was handed a robe and then everyone melted away as if it had never happened.



I needed to find a washroom to clean myself up but Naomi was draining her glass.



“Come on. Our car’s here.”



Feeling slightly bemused I allowed her to lead me back up to street level where, for the first time since we had entered the club, my manhood finally relented in its anguished attempts to break out from its prison.



I looked around for a taxi but Naomi pulled me towards a dark Mercedes parked at the kerb. As we approached a female chauffeur got out and opened the rear door. She was dressed in a neat, black, two-piece with stylish knee boots and could have come from the same school that turned out the club’s hostesses.



I got in next to Naomi and the car glided into traffic. I was still uncomfortably warm and buzzing from the effects of the alcohol that I had consumed when she turned to me. I was taken completely unawares when she took my face in her hands and kissed me fully on the mouth.



Instinctively, I tried to meet her tongue with mine but she was ravenously devouring me. Only as she broke away to lick at my mouth did I begin to comprehend. She was seeking out the taste of the girl.



I found the idea shocking but, at the same time, extremely arousing with predictable results. I winced with pain as Naomi hauled up her dress.



“Eat me!”



My eyes flicked to the rear view mirror to catch the chauffeur smiling at me but I had no time for contemplation as Naomi tugged me down to my knees. The rear of the car was spacious and allowed plenty of room but, if we stopped in traffic, anyone could look in.



She had shed her underwear somewhere along the way and her sex looked raw and excited, a complete contrast to the girl at the club. I wanted to turn away but I was being driven by darker forces.



With her legs open her scent quickly invaded the confined space and so I was surprised to hear the air conditioning being cut out altogether. It was probably the last rational thought that I had before she pulled me in and held me tightly to her sex.



My earlier performance, or perhaps just the girl, must have gotten to her in a big way. She worked her hips, grinding herself into my face, and came almost immediately but it was just the beginning.



She did not want to come down altogether and she told me to get my tongue deep inside where, even as I was experiencing the fullness of her first climax, I caught the fresher taste of a second starting to develop.



Minutes passed as she regathered her strength and I was dimly aware that the volume of traffic had diminished. I guessed that she had, in some way, signalled the chauffeur to take her time and find a quieter route.



Eventually she wanted to be licked and I set to work on the, now familiar, folds of her labia but my initial lust was spent. She sprawled lazily and I could almost believe that she was enjoying my discomfort; it seemed an age before she finally drew me on to her clitoris.



As I licked at the engorged bud the car began to accelerate and continued to do so at an alarming rate. Naomi began to swear as she urged me to greater effort and she screamed as she started to come. I heard an accompanying peal of laughter from the driver’s seat before the car eventually slowed to something closer to legal.



I tried to get up but Noami closed her legs holding me to her sex until the final tremors had passed. When she released me the car came to a stop and I sat up to find myself outside of my own apartment.



Chapter 4



Only as I closed the front door did it occur to me that I had not even broached the subject of the key. I took a shower and the need to take myself in hand was the strongest I had ever known but I had to get my mind in focus.



The following morning I was scheduled to conduct the dummy run of the pre trial review at Wards. The PTR was a formality but I wanted to leave nothing to chance; to lose the case at the preliminary stage would sound the death knell for my career prospects.



I was lucky to get Wards on board as co-counsel. Their experience was second to none and I feared that the French defence lawyers may already have approached them. It was a relief when Wards confirmed that they had no conflict of interest and would act with us.



I turned up at their offices first thing and, as ever, I was impressed with their professionalism. They retained one of their offices as a mocked up court room complete with judges table and witness stand.



Through the course of the day I put up my eleven expert witnesses and led them to the succinct, precise, answers that we had prepared. Not one of them buckled under severe cross examination from Wards who took the part of the defence lawyers.



That evening I was feeling really confident and the more so when I came up for a plan for the restraint. I was going to present myself at the local hospital casualty department and tell them that it was a stag night prank that had gone too far. They might have a laugh at my expense after the event but what would that matter.



I was all set when the phone rang. I had a worrying premonition and, sure enough, it was a woman’s voice. For some reason I expected Ellen but it was Beth at the other end of the line.



“Are you free this evening? The others are both away for the night and I think we need to talk. Can you come over?”



I should have said no. I had another session booked with Wards the following day but there was something about her tone of voice. I think I sensed a measure of contrition and I hoped that we had, after all, made a connection. In some indefinable way she really appealed to me.



On an impulse I bought wine and flowers on the way over and she looked suitably pleased as she opened the door.



She appeared different. She had her dark hair swept back from her face and retained in a tight chignon. She was also wearing makeup and my immediate impression was of an Egyptian princess.



This was slightly at odds with her outfit which looked hippy chic. Her blouse was a deep shade of red, beautifully embroidered with a motif of birds and flowers, forming a match with her full length cheesecloth skirt.



As I followed her in my eyes were drawn to the sway of her hips and the shapeliness of her pert derriere.



She poured wine and, whilst the atmosphere was definitely strained to begin with, I soon began to feel relaxed in her company. I had formed the impression of a cats and dogs



do-gooder but it transpired that she was a consultant surgeon and her job took her all over the world.



I found myself bragging a little about my own job and particularly the importance and complexity of my current case and, to her credit, she managed to look interested.



I was wondering how I could take things to another level when she suddenly stood up and took my hand.



“Come to bed.”



She led the way upstairs to a room with similar dimensions to Ellen’s but far more exotically decorated. The centrepiece was the bed itself with elaborately carved head and foot boards.



I am no expert but I could see that the work was beautifully detailed. I leaned in to take a closer look and then floundered as she pushed me on to the bed. I rolled over onto my back and she threw herself on top of me.



“Do you trust me?”



It was an odd question. I had convinced myself that her interest was genuine and that she was now going to free me. Without waiting for my answer she reached beneath the pillows and pulled out two pairs of pink novelty handcuffs. Lisa and I had actually used such things before but they were little tougher than paper clips and the fun was over almost before it began.



She coaxed my arm towards the bed post and I smiled and went along with it figuring that I would spring a surprise as soon as she thought she had me.



With one wrist secured she paused and took off her blouse to reveal her naked breasts. They were much as I had imagined them, firm globes that would be the desired template for any woman seeking an enhancement, but hers were perfectly natural.



Now, as she leant across to secure my other wrist, she brushed my face with her nipples which underwent an astonishing transformation. Within seconds they shaded from coral pink to a vivid vermillion and stood proudly engorged.



As I looked my tongue moved in my mouth and I wanted her to feed them to me but, now that I was secure, she stood up to finish undressing. It took just half a minute to divest herself of her skirt and panties and then she started on me.



She slipped off my shoes and socks and then, with a little more effort, she relieved me of my trousers and undershorts. She smiled slyly as she played her hand over my imprisoned manhood before undoing my shirt to reveal my chest.



“Are you going to unlock me?”



“All in good time.”



She began to run her hands all over my body which was very soothing but, at the same time, very arousing to the extent that I gave a groan of pain.



“Please…”



She ignored my entreaty and began to slide her body over mine. I could feel the firmness of her nipples and then the increasing wetness of her sex. Twisting and turning she worked her way up from my legs, over my torso, even taking in my captive arms.



Slowly but surely she was oiling my skin using the fur of her sex as a brush. Had I known beforehand what she intended I would have refused to cooperate but, now that it was actually happening, I felt a real charge.



There seemed to be a measure of cause and effect. The more of my body that she covered the more aroused she became and her scent lay over us like a blanket.



Finally, she rested on top of me and began to grind her sex against my restraint. She had her eyes closed but her face, just inches above mine, expressed a look of increasing ecstasy.



I could not help myself. I thrust my hips in an effort to meet her but only at the expense of a growing ache between my legs. I forced myself to remain still, in the hope that she would understand, but she was lost in her own private nirvana.

Her breathing became more rapid and then, with a long drawn out sigh, she reached the pinnacle. She held herself rigid and, when she could take no more, she collapsed onto me and began to stroke my face.



“That was so good…”



I really hoped that she was not like the others but, with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I had to accept that she was just playing the game.



“I have to take a shower”



She sprang from me so quickly that I did not get the chance to reason with her before she disappeared into the en-suite closing the door behind her.



Hearing the running water I would have given anything to take a shower myself and that was when I made up my mind to leave.



I tugged tentatively at the restraints on my wrists but to no obvious effect and so I braced myself and made a concerted effort. Using all my strength all I managed to do was to hurt myself and so I paused and took stock.



The restraints, which at first seemed so flimsy, now appeared more substantive. I could see, looking more carefully, that the links were welded and were not going to open. I also noticed that the cuffs themselves were rubber lined and that she had affixed them to the metalwork of the headboard and not the wooden fretwork.



Trying a new tactic I attempted to shake them loose, in the hope that they had not been locked closed, but I only succeeded in moulting the pink fur that had made them seem so innocuous.



I was seething but I had no choice but to wait until she came back.



I must have dozed because I was brought back to reality by the opening of the door and it was as if a different woman had returned. She was still naked but she had removed her make-up and loosened her hair which framed her face with soft natural curls.



She was imbued with that spirit of innocence that had so appealed to me on first meeting her. As she drew nearer I could smell her freshly applied perfume. It was a heady, eastern, scent but it suited her perfectly.



“Beth, I have a very heavy day tomorrow.”



“You’ve still got a little time for me haven’t you?”



She spoke playfully and did not wait for my answer. With feline grace she mounted the bed and knelt astride my head. Just days ago I would have resented her attitude and I would have made my feelings very clearly known but something had changed.



In part it was the feeling of helplessness. The knowledge that aside from biting there was nothing I could do to stop her; but there was something else. As she brushed her sex over my mouth I actually wanted to taste her.



This realization came as a profound shock and I underwent a momentary feeling of displacement. A stranger was inhabiting my body.



Her movements wafted me with the clean smell of citrus but what I sought was the musky undertone that was slowly seeping through. I breathed deep and my mouth was washed with saliva.



Somehow, she had an innate understanding of what I was going through and she continued to tease. I lifted my head to reach her but moved with me, keeping her distance, grazing my lips with her curls.



She laughed, and in that laughter I recognized a hint of triumph and a final crumbling of my resistance.



Now assured, she came to rest on my face and opened herself to my tongue which I willingly offered up. In spite of all that gone before she was still moist inside and, as her taste filled my mouth, my whole body shivered.



Time stood still as I tended to her but the constant pain that resulted was transmuted. My body was telling me that my sacrifice would be made worthwhile if only I could only hold on for just a little longer…



As she started to come she moved gently back and forth, encouraging me to open my mouth a little wider, then she relaxed fully and allowed the dam to burst.



When it was over she curled up at my side, with her hand across my chest, and her shallow breathing told me that she had fallen into a light sleep. For a short while afterwards I was tortured by my own thoughts as I tried to understand just what was happening to me, and then I drifted off.



I awoke from a nightmare in which I was trapped in suffocating darkness only to find my fear made real. She had mounted my face whilst I slept but this time sealing me in with her closed thighs.



I shook my head frantically until she raised herself a little to allow me to draw a heaving breath. The room was a lot darker now but there was still sufficient light to enable me to see the look of anger on her face.



“Beth! Enough is enough. I have to go.”



“It’s enough only when I say so.”



I was stunned by her apparent transformation but my words seemed to have the desired effect as she got up from the bed. She crossed to the bay window, where a chaise longue was placed to take in the garden, and collected a heavy bolster.



She brought it back to the bed and then pushed it beneath the small of my back. I struggled half-heartedly unsure what she intended and not wanting to physically harm her. The whole time I tried to reason with her but she would not answer.



I fought against her in earnest when she took hold of my ankles and started to lift my legs but she was surprisingly strong and I guessed, that it her line of work, she was often called upon to subdue uncooperative animals.



I managed to get one leg free and kicked out in genuine anger but she sidestepped and, in the same movement, she delivered a single sharp slap to my balls.



The sudden pain brought tears to my eyes and I was powerless to resist as she pushed my legs over my head. The purpose of the bolster was now made clear as, with my hips raised, my centre of gravity was working against me.



I saw, too late, the stockings already attached to the bed posts and with quick deft movements, which worryingly suggested previous experience, she looped them over my feet.



I swore with anger but she simply laughed as my struggles only served to tighten the devilish knots.



She took a sip of water from a glass on the bedside table and then opened the drawer.



“Beth! Don’t do this! Just sit down and talk to me!”



Her smile was cruel as she slipped on a latex glove and then proceeded to lubricate it.



If anyone were looking for a way to make me confront my demons in Room 101 then what Beth was threatening would be top of my list. It was an irrational fear, and it had caused friction with sexual partners in my past, but I could not get over it.



I was literally begging her as she started to run her fingers over my hideously exposed backside but she looked at me coldly and said quietly.



“No one refuses me.”



My breath caught in my throat and my muscles clenched painfully as she tested me with the pad of her finger. She pressed gently, gauging the resistance, and then she smiled.



“A virgin?..I am going to enjoy this.”



I wrenched my body violently, and hurled a stream of invective, but she remained serenely unperturbed. She recovered her discarded panties from the floor and, pausing only to slowly wipe them between her legs, she pushed them deep into my mouth.



I tried to expel them but she held them in place with a single finger.



“If you spit them out they are going straight back in and I’ll gag you as well. It’s your choice.”



It took all of my willpower to hold myself in check. I could afford no further loss of liberty and I had no doubt that she was prepared to carry out her threat.



Now that I was momentarily quelled she picked up where she had left off teasing me with her finger. She was in no hurry and she described a lazy circle only now and then testing the tension at its centre.



I was sweating profusely not least because of the effort required to keep my muscles taut and I could feel myself weakening moment by moment.



She came to rest and there was now a steady, more insistent, pressure. I drew on my last reserves of physical strength but I was no match for her single, slickened, finger.



With a deft twist she pushed home to the first knuckle and, for an appalling moment, I feared that I would totally embarrass myself but she paused and allowed me to come to terms with the initial intrusion.



I was breathing hard and my body began to spasm as it reflexively tried to expel her but she used the contractions to her advantage. Each time there was a momentary relaxation she exerted just a little more pressure until her finger was almost fully home.



I tried to plead with her through the sodden mess of her panties but all that I got was a mock smile of sympathy. Holding my anger in check I kept as still as possible and found that I could bear the discomfort but then I felt a renewed stretching.



I sensed, rather than saw, that she was sliding her thumb against the finger that was already embedded and my eyes widened in horror.



“Don’t fight it…you might even find that you enjoy it.”



At that moment I could have killed her for her mocking tone but I was powerless and she knew it.



It took an effort on her part to ease her thumb through the tight portal but, once it was broached, she found it all too easy. I wanted to scream and, when I felt her trying for a third finger, I began to struggle in earnest.



I tried to thrash myself free but the combination of the restraints and the bolster allowed me little freedom of movement. Worse still, she turned my exertions to her advantage and leaned her weight into me.



By the time I had exhausted myself the tips of all four fingers had found a lodgement and I spat the panties from my mouth in despair.



“Please Beth…don’t”



She brought her face closer to mine and I saw the evil glint of excitement in the darkness of her eyes.



“You’re not going to disappoint me are you?”



I knew then that pleading would avail me nothing and she allowed a second or two for it to sink in before slowly and inexorably she began to rotate her hand.



For a woman she seemed possessed of inhuman strength and I gave a strangled scream as, with a grunt of effort, she pressed home up to her wrist.



I felt as if I was being torn apart but, after an initial flaring of pain, there was a just a disturbing sense of being filled. It was uncomfortable but, at the same time, it seemed to trigger an endorphin rush with an unwelcome feeling of exhilaration.



Bringing to bear a disturbing level of experience she slowly moved her hand within. It was a gentle, almost imperceptible, piston stroke that had me riding with it as I strove for a vaguely familiar sensation.



She smiled anew as she recognized the moment of transition and for the next few moments she worked me as I tried to come to terms with what I was undergoing.



When she finally eased herself free I felt something more than just a physical emptiness and I guiltily understood that, for all the discomfort, there was something here that I wanted to explore further. The shock of this realization was increased when she suddenly began to probe once more with a single finger.



It had slipped in unfelt but she began to massage a spot somewhere inside that had me gasping for breath. For a few seconds I felt the twinge of a painfully thwarted erection but then there was simply the sensation of frustrated release.



It felt unnerving as my balls tightened in that familiar way that presaged an ejaculation but there was none of the associated pleasure. I wanted her to stop but she seemed to know more about my body than I did. She continued to massage me with an unrelenting rhythm, and then I felt a sudden, unsatisfying, leakage.



She laughed out loud as she surveyed the results of her ministrations and then, without a word, she discarded the soiled glove and left the room.



Chapter 5



I shouted myself hoarse but she did not return and, at some point, notwithstanding the many aches and pains, I must have dropped off.



When I awoke there was daylight coming through the curtains and my restraints were gone. A quick survey of the house revealed that there was no one home and I washed and dressed as quickly as I could.



The temptation to go through their things, to try and get inside their heads, was almost overwhelming but, whilst I did spend a couple of minutes fruitlessly searching out the key to the cock cage, I was in danger of being late for my meeting at Wards.



Their front door locked automatically behind me and I dashed back to my own flat for a clean suit.



In the event I was only a few minutes late at Wards but I found it hard to focus as we went over the results of the previous days’ testimonies. The afternoon proved even worse. With Wards’ partners taking the role of the presiding judges panel and advocate for the defence I presented our case for the prosecution.



I had lived and breathed the case law and precedents for the last three months but my mind seemed to go blank. They tore me to shreds and let me know, in no uncertain terms, that, unless I upped my game, we would not even make it to trial.



The pre-trial review was taking place in just seven days time with the French defence team flying in at the weekend. I could bullshit our managing partner to a degree but he would almost certainly quiz my supporting paralegals on an informal basis and the worry was in their faces to be seen.



I prevailed upon the Wards people to give me another chance and, after a break, and working late into the night, I made a second presentation. This one went a lot better and they were more encouraging in their feedback.



At home, afterwards, I vowed to myself that I would give it everything I had up to the review and, bizarrely, the restraint proved a blessing in disguise. Whilst I was wearing it there could be no physical distractions.



Over the ensuing days I worked the team hard and by Tuesday confidence was high once again. The senior partners, along with Wards, conducted their final appraisal and announced themselves satisfied; all that mattered now was my advocacy on the day.



With the court date set for Thursday I was told to take Wednesday off and relax. I was tempted to get the restraint removed but, for reasons I could not explain to myself, although superstition may have played a part, I decided that I would wait until the review was concluded before I rewarded myself.



I slept in on Wednesday and it was almost lunchtime before I shaved and took a shower.



I was still drying myself off when the doorbell rang. Expecting a courier with the bound case transcripts I tied a towel around my waist and opened the door.



I was shocked to find Ellen standing there in company with another woman.



“May we come in?”



Without waiting for an answer she strode through into the living room with her companion in tow.



“Ellen, this is not a good time.”



“Don’t be silly. Make some coffee.”



I should have stuck to my guns and seen them off but something about the tone of her voice, and my innate sense of good manners, held sway. I left them to grab myself a pair of track bottoms and a tee shirt and then ground some beans.



As the coffee brewed I pondered the reason for the visit but one thought was uppermost in my mind. I had played their ‘game’ and neither Naomi and Beth had volunteered the key which lead to the assumption that Ellen had retained it all along whilst they had a cruel joke at my expense.



I served Ellen and she introduced Mari whose looks and accent suggested Spanish origins. She appeared to be somewhere in her forties but something about her manner suggested that she might have been older.



The lines in her face were not deeply etched but hinted at a very happy life and her thick black hair was shot through with strands of silver to remain in keeping. She obviously kept herself in shape, and carried off her daringly short skirt with ease, but my eyes were drawn to her impressive décolletage.



She was wearing a revealing scooped necked cashmere sweater which, on anyone else, might have seemed inelegant but she retained an air of refinement.



I was about to ask what was going on, and who exactly Mari was, when Ellen put down her cup.



“I want you to show it to Mari.”



Her meaning was immediately clear to me but I could not quite believe what I was hearing. I looked at Mari but she seemed totally composed. She crossed her legs, revealing just a little more of her sheer black stockings, and leaned forward a fraction.



After a second or two I found my voice.



“You have to be kidding me.”



“On the contrary, I am totally serious. Take your pants down.”



The whole situation was absurd but there was something in her tone of voice which chimed deep within me and I found myself lost in her calculating stare. The room felt as if it were shrinking and I seemed incapable of rational thought.



A shrill siren was sounding in the upper reaches of my consciousness but my functioning was being determined by the darker recesses of my psyche. I slid the track bottoms down to my ankles and stepped out of them.



“Come closer.”



I took a step forward and my eyes remained locked with Ellen’s as Mari tentatively reached forward to touch my imprisoned manhood. She tested the closely fitted padlock and then spoke almost in awe.



“I am sorry for disbelieving you…It is all true?”



“Every word. Take off your skirt…you’ll be more comfortable.”



My eyes flickered as the import of her words sank in but I found myself frozen to the spot as Mari got to her feet and hesitantly worked the fastenings of her waistband. As she set her skirt aside Ellen looked across drawing my eyes with hers.



Mari’s thighs, sheathed in the dark silk of her stockings, were a little plumper than I would have imagined but still, nevertheless, attractive. Her dark complexion helped, adding a healthy lustre to her skin.



She noted my appreciation and turned a little shifting her weight to provocatively jut her pelvis. She had a classical hour-glass figure but my eyes had already flitted to the line of her panties.



They were black, and would probably have been deemed sensible by today’s standards, but they were beautifully embroidered and, I guessed, very expensive. They hugged her closely and emphasised her very prominent mons.



She needed no further guidance. She seemed fully attuned to the unbidden urges which held me in thrall.



Now, with total confidence, she eased herself out of her panties and stood with her legs just a little apart.



I could feel my heart pumping as I stared at her sex shadowed by a close shaved frizz of black hair. Even as I looked I felt the need to swallow and she smiled knowing exactly what it betokened.



She retook her place on the sofa, settled herself comfortably, and allowed her legs to part. No words were spoken, the choice was entirely mine, but they knew that I was beyond salvation.



I felt disembodied as I slowly knelt before her. I was vaguely aware of the slight bulge of her belly but it was at the periphery of my vision as I found focus on the up swell of her pudenda.



The light sparked from the few silver trespassers in the uniform darkness and from a centre line moist with excitement. Just a short while ago I would have found it unattractive but she was a woman of experience, who obviously took pride in her maturity, and I found it disturbingly arousing.



I felt an almost painful tension in my neck muscles as I began to bow my head accompanied by a sharper pain from my groin resulting from an irrational erection.



As I accepted the welcoming haven of her thighs I caught the heavy, musky perfume with which she had anointed her skin but this was complimented by her ever stronger natural scent.



It was a scent that I had become very familiar with in the past few days but there was something indefinable that made it uniquely hers.



When I was almost upon her she relaxed completely and her perfectly matched labia parted a little revealing a livid pink hinterland.



I closed my eyes and licked along the length of the moist reveal. Her taste seeped into my mouth triggering a feeling of excitement that I had not felt since I set out on my voyage of sexual discovery as a naive teenager.

(Author’s Note: All fictional characters depicted in this story are at least 18 years old.)







“Nice ass, Becky!” Marcus yelled from the top of his lungs from the other side of the school’s hallway, directing his crass comment at me.



Fucking prick. I hated Marcus. I dealt with him enough throughout high school. It was senior year, and I was still dealing with him! He was one pompous asshole. Black and lean with vascular muscles and muscular thighs, Marcus was a multisport all-state athlete, played defensive back in football, and he was lauded for it. He liked to call himself ‘Primetime’ after some old football player by the name of Deion Sanders or somebody.



Pardon my French, but it was always so fucking annoying to walk around the school, hearing everybody calling Marcus “Priiiiimetime”, exaggerating and emphasizing the word all the time. It was just my luck that I had multiple classes with him every year, and senior year was brutal. In class, he would prattle on about his conquests and brag about his ability to pull just about any girl.



Marcus often liked picking on me the most, because unlike other girls, I wasn’t a promiscuous whore, or I figured I wasn’t. He told me I shouldn’t play so hard to get, but I would just roll my eyes at him. I’m a short, overly tanned Hispanic girl with a way too big butt that causes me to jump up and down every morning when attempting to put jeans on. Marcus liked to call me out on my ass, oftentimes pinching it, slapping it, grabbing it and telling me that I should ‘let him get a crack it’.



I consistently had verbal artillery for Marcus, too. He learned the hard way that if he was going to pinch my ass, he was going to receive a slap from a demonic bitch. He liked to say my slaps didn’t hurt, or that he liked the pain, but I found it satisfying to watch his face turn red after giving him a taste of my palm. He had a distinct scar on his forehead, too, allegedly from some kind of farcical backyard boxing with his dumbshit friends. I liked to crack jokes to him that he only got that scar from fucking his boyfriend too hard and hitting the bedpost. He would always turn around and say that he and I could give him more scars if I wanted, always with a wink on his face. Fucking pervert.



It was a Friday night during football season, and being a cheerleader, I was tired by the game’s end. However, I was horny as hell; I just wanted to go to my boyfriend Jared’s house to fuck. That wasn’t an option, unfortunately. He was home, allegedly sick, and he didn’t want any visitors. He was usually a sweet boyfriend, but he acted like a menstruating bitch when he asked him if he wanted me to bring him any soup. He had this amazing girlfriend, and he didn’t want to see me? Maybe I was putting myself on a pedestal. Fuck if I know. I just didn’t care about bringing myself to an orgasm alone. Nothing beats being bent over and fucked. I loved being felt up, feeling my ass cheeks bounce off a pair of thighs. ‘Well, I guess it isn’t happening tonight!’ I said to myself.



I stood in the parking lot outside the stadium waiting for my best friend Chelsea to pick me up. It only figured that she was in the backseat of her boyfriend Matt’s car sucking his dick and what have you. Fucking cunt. After sweating profusely during the game, soiling my red velvet panties, I was feeling a bit chilly and just wanted to go home. It wasn’t a good night up to that point.



As I pulled out my phone to text Chelsea, a white car pulled up beside of me and I heard the windows roll down. What the fuck is this, I thought, almost intimidated because it was dark and it’s a bad omen to be a girl standing out in a parking lot at night wearing a cheerleading uniform.



“Becky!”. . . I looked over, and for fuck’s sake, it was Marcus. “Oh, God, what do you want?” I asked annoyed, rolling my eyes. “‘Oh, God’? I know I’m God!” he bombastically stated with his usual grin, flashing his ‘Priiiimetime’ smile (what a fucking joke!). “Listen, I’m going to give you a ride home, because I feel bad as hell for leaving you out here standing around lookin’ like a fool. Who’s supposed to pick you up, anyway?”



“Chelsea’s giving me a ride,” I said. “She’s going to be here in a minute, so you can just go on.”



Marcus shook his head. “Yeah, any minute being more like an hour. Just text her and tell her I’m giving you a ride home. Besides, where the fuck is your boyfriend?” he inquired.



“He’s home. Sick!” I said.



“Yeah, sick of yo ass,” he shot back. “He’s probably at a house party with two babes, one bent over and the other rimming him silly!” he joked, again flashing his smile.



“Fuck you! He’d never do any of that to me. . . he loves me,” I defensively retorted. Fucking Marcus and his stupid ass jokes.



“Yeah, people who love each other all the time get it on with other people. Just get in the fuckin’ car. I’m fuckin’ hungry as hell after playing some Priiiimetime shutdown corner football!” Marcus emitted.



I rolled my eyes and begrudgingly opened the passenger door and sat down. From my purse, I pulled out my phone and began texting Chelsea to let her know that I had a ride, while Marcus exited the parking lot. The entire time I could feel his eyes on me. I pulled the bottom of my cheerleading skirt down as much as I could to cover my legs a bit more. “Watch the fucking road,” I said to him.



“Yeah, yeah, I’m hungry as shit. I’m going to stop by McDonald’s. You want anything?” He asked. I nodded. “Well, I’mma get you a side of a new pain reliever called the Uptight Bitch McReducer. It’s the number sixty-nine on the dollar menu!” he said with a laugh. What a lame ass joke. As usual, with all of his retarded quips, I rolled my eyes in disgust.



We took off down the road, as I sat with my arms crossed.



“You know, we’ll be graduating in seven months, and yet all you’ve done is shoot me down, never giving me a shot,” Marcus bloviated. “I mean, shit, we joke at each other all the time. We have chemistry, so how do you know we won’t have sexual chemistry?”



“First of all,” I began, “I ‘shoot you down’ because you say stupid shit. Second of all, we don’t joke with each other, or at least I don’t joke with you. And sexual chemistry? We don’t have any chemistry, but what the fuck is sexual chemistry?”



“Yeah, you shoot me down,” Marcus replied with a smirk. “If you aren’t joking with me at school all the time, then why do you have a big grin on your face whenever you joke?”



“Again, I’m not fucking joking!” I said exasperated. “I smile because other people hear what I say, and they laugh, so I laugh, because it’s funny.”



“There ya go, then. It’s fuckin’ funny, because it’s a joke!” he said with a burst of laughter. “And those people don’t laugh because you are funny. They laugh ’cause an uptight chick is trying to insult Priiiimetime!”



“Ugh!” I grunted loudly, crossing my arms even tighter. “Just shut the fuck up.”



We stopped by McDonald’s, and Marcus ate the food that he ordered in the parking lot. The entire time, I stared out the window. Words weren’t shared between us, but it was only because Mr. Loud Mouth himself was too busy eating like a pig.



Shortly after he finished eating, we left, and he asked me for directions to my house. As I disclosed to him where I lived, he startled me with something he said.



“Look, I say all the bullshit that I say because you are really pretty,” Marcus said in a very genuine and serious voice. “I act like the way I do to impress my friends and keep my reputation as the slick, ballsy dude. But seriously, you are gorgeous, and I’m going to really miss you when school is over with, because I won’t have the same girl to joke with.”



“You will just find some other girl to replace me,” I told him. “There are plenty of other ‘uptight bitches’ out there to make cat calls at.” I had my bitch shield still turned on.



“There won’t be another Becky,” Marcus said with confidence. He slowed down with his driving, as nobody appeared to be behind us as there were no cars in front of us. “No other girl with the same silky smooth brown hair or the same blueish-gray eyes. . . oh, and don’t get me started on that smile and those lips.”



After hearing his compliments, I almost grinned, but I stopped myself. I hesitated for a while. There was a brief silence. I didn’t know what to say, really, but I kept thinking about how he would always tell me that I was uptight. I didn’t think I was, but his constant statements were drilled into my head.



“Do you really think I’m uptight?” I asked. “Be completely honest. No joking this time.”



“Honestly? You really haven’t gone out of your way to have fun in high school. You have spent all your time with that lame boyfriend of yours without experiencing life and just going out, saying ‘fuck it’ and having a good time. What’s the problem with that?”



“I do have a good time!” I said, defensively again, but he cut me off from continuing.



“You do? All you ever do is read, study, read, study. Lather, rinse, repeat. No wonder Jared used the excuse that he was sick. He’s bored. I bet you don’t even have a wild bone in your body.”



“I do so!” I emitted, unintentionally raising my voice a bit.



As we approached an empty parking lot, Marcus glanced at me and said, “Prove it” as he pulled in.



“What? What do you want me to do?!” I asked, defensive as hell, just like before.



“You said you are wild and that you know how to have a good time,” he accused me, as he pulled into a space in the desolate lot. “You are just all talk, aren’t you?”



“I have a boyfriend, Marcus, and besides, I’m no slut. I don’t just sleep around!”



“You don’t do anything. You are a self-righteous bitch that talks the talk but can’t walk the walk. You can’t handle being called out. Admit it.”



“Whatever, just take me home,” I said, crossing my arms again.



“So much for having a good time for one night that nobody else will find out about. Really, Becky? Fine. If you want, I’ll take you—”



I stopped him. “Whatever, whatever, just. . . I’ll prove it to you,” I said, as nervous as I was. I looked away and stared out the window a little longer.



“OK, then,” Marcus said. “Prove it.”



He adjusted his seat and leaned back, crossed his arms behind his head and looked at me, waiting.



I leaned over towards him and felt the crotch of his pants with my right hand, supporting myself up with my left. I could feel his growing bulge as I started rubbing his hungry cock. “I’m gonna take off your pants,” I hissed, stating the obvious. He gave me an approving glance, nodding, and observed with keen interest, as I slowly pulled down his zipper, and subsequently his pants to about his knees.



I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but I could feel myself becoming horny. A powerful spasm tore through my pussy as it tingled, emitting a trace of gooey juice as I felt it stain the fabric of my red velvet panties.



I stroked Marcus’s cock from the outside of his boxers, feeling it emerge in my hand, fully becoming erect. “Fuck yeeeah”, he softly groaned as he reached down and brushed my hair out of my face.



I grabbed his boxers by the waist and pulled them down, exposing his chocolate dick. He was big, not huge; what made me marvel at his cock was its firm thickness. I ran my fingertips up and down his shaft, taking my thumb on one side and my index and middle fingers on the other, I stroked him, wanting to tease him just a little bit before giving him too much stimulation.



I could tell he was enjoying this, eagerly awaiting my lips to meet his meaty cock. I leaned down and kissed the tip of his head, tonguing the eye, before opening my mouth and wrapping my lips fully around the top.



Slowly, I took him whole. All the way down, his cock met the back of my throat. “Oh, fuck yeeeah, yeeeah”, he said, cooing inescapable moans of ecstasy. Up and down, I sucked him hard, tightly wrapped my lips around him as forcefully as I could, gripping him with all my might.



“Oh, Becky. . .” he emitted.



His moaning was so intense, I could no longer ignore my aching twat. I was aroused to the point of no return. I relinquished his cock, leaned back up and pulled down my sweaty, pussy juice laden panties, before letting myself back down to take his dick back into my mouth once more. I finger-fucked myself, not able to handle the tension anymore. I was so fucking horny.



I shoved two fingers up my drenched hole, curving them and repeatedly slashing them in and out. I moaned around his cock as I slurped and slobbered all over him. My pussy juice was running down my legs, meeting his car seat. I was so wet that wet, watery noises emanated from my sweet cunt with each entrance of my dirty fingers.



I couldn’t get enough of Marcus’s dick. I felt a droplet of precum in my mouth. I had no doubt that’s what it was. I released him from my mouth once more, admiring the mess I had created, as my spit pervaded his dick and encompassed his big ball sack.



As I returned to suck him once again, he stopped me. “I need to fuckin’ taste you”, he said, aggressively pushing me back against the seat. “Wait, let’s get in the back of the car.”



He removed his pants and his shirt, becoming completely nude, as I made my way to the back of the vehicle. He followed, and pulled up my cheerleading skirt. As I lied in the backseat, he pushed the front seats forward, turned around and leaned in, not wasting any time as he practically found my swollen clit instantly, pinching it and rubbing it in a circular motion. I was in euphoria. I could barely stand not cumming. I could feel it. Oh, fuck, I could feel it. Loud moans escaped from my mouth as he played with my pussy.



Marcus leaned in and took a big sniff. “Damn, Becky, you smell fucking good,” he said. “Ohhh!” I moaned.



“Eat me!” I demanded. He obliged, spreading the molds of my lips apart and shoving his tongue down into my quivering pussy, sending me into a whirlwind of feelings, hardly able to withhold my orgasm. He sloshed his tongue in and out of me while continuing to stimulate my clit. The power behind my inevitable orgasm hit me like a jolt of lightning. My body shook and convulsed. He didn’t even fucking let up! He kept penetrating me with his big, wet, juicy tongue. Over and over again. I couldn’t do anything about it. “I’m cumming!” I yelled, with tears of pleasure forming in my eyes, as the orgasm’s powerful spasm tore through my aching cunt. It was one of the most powerful orgasms ever. I moaned for what seemed like forever.



“Are you on birth control?” he asked. “Yeah. . . yeah,” I said breathlessly, trying to regain my composure. “Yeah, I’m on birth control.”



“Good. Now get on your knees and turn around!” Marcus eagerly demanded, as he hopped up, steadying himself with his right leg on the seat as I pushed myself up and directed my ass towards him. I was sweating, breathless, and wetter ever.



Situating himself behind me, he ran his hands all over the smoothness of my big, brown, way too big Hispanic butt. “This is what I’m talking about,” he said. “This fucking ass. Becky’s incomparable ass!”



He rubbed the tip of his cock against my soaking wet pussy lips, again and again, in a consistent manner, lubricating himself with my dripping juices. “Are you ready?” he asked as I turned my head around, looked at him and gave him a nod of approval.



He pushed in, entering my tight hole with his thick, juicy, black cock. “Oh, fuck yes, take it!” he groaned, as he pushed himself in. My mouth was hanging wide open as I let out moans I couldn’t hold back. I felt my legs trembling as his meat filled my pussy completely, burying himself inside of me all the way to the hilt.



He grabbed the side of my ass with both hands and began aggressively pulling me back and forth, with my ass meeting him with each deep thrust. He did this slowly, initially, picking up a nice, rhythmic pace as we shared moans. I met him stroke for stroke, as he picked up his pace. I was fucking a guy that I hated, but I didn’t care. I simply didn’t give a shit at that point in time. I wanted to be physically dominated in every sense!



He built himself up to a rapid speed, fucking me the way he wanted. It was sex; it was visceral and animalistic. I tried keeping up with him, stroke for stroke, but he was just too damn fast. My fat ass cheeks repeatedly plopped against him with each entrance. “Take it, you fuckin’ slut, take it!” he repeated over and over again. Discharge from my pussy began shooting out and flying all over the place.



Our speedy fucking was getting to the point of being too fast that it almost hurt. Harder and harder, he packed my vaginal walls, forcefully stimulating every facet of my cunt with his bulky black cock.



“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, Becky! I’m gonna fuckin’ cum!” Marcus let out.



He plowed me, drilling my formerly tight pussy as hard as he could. Then I felt it.



Pulling my ass against him, entering me as far and as hard as he could as I felt his cock pulse, Marcus transported his viscous white seed from his spurting black cock into my hungry, welcoming pink pussy. I felt every last drop of his jism splatter as he completely emptied his fiery hot load into the depths of my cunt tunnel.



He collapsed on top of me, allowing his peter to soften before it slipped out of my tired hole.



The both of us sweating and breathless, he cleared his throat.



“Damn. . . it took until senior year, but I’ve finally fucked the last piece to the puzzle,” he said with a big, proud grin.



“Fuck you, asshole! Just take me home!”

Disclaimer: Note that this chapter contains rather frank depictions of brutal rape and assault. While this sort of thing may be erotic for some, if in doubt, I suggest that you skip over it. Later parts of the story will not be so off-putting.



Escape



I took a nap. One of those naps where you fade in and out of semi-consciousness and sometimes hear conversation but don’t quite register its meaning.



When I finally did begin to wake up, I heard the boys’ soft voices, just shooting the breeze. I shuddered. I was still nude, and I wanted to cry because I knew this was no nightmare. The pulsing ache within me was a bitter reminder that this was all real.



I wasn’t sure what to do, because I didn’t want to attract their attention, but I also wanted to get clothes on and find a place I could take a long shower. And perhaps cry.



In the end, I must’ve stirred, because Jason noticed.



“Feeling a little sore, are you?” He sneered. I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh, but was too afraid to move, or say anything. “Get up, and get some fucking clothes on, bitch. ” His voice was full of scorn; fearing that Jason would kick me if I hesitated, I quickly obeyed.



I did my best to ignore the eyes of the boys as I pulled my clothes back on. They were talking about how I had been, probably just for the purpose of humiliating me. As if they could do any more damage. I feared they had permanently damaged me; I had heard such horror stories about the consequences of anal sex before. And it surely felt like they had broken me. I shuddered at the thought of passing them on campus; passing the very men who had forced me to unspeakable degradation and gotten away with it, while I would long be dealing with the scars.



“She was so tight, dude. I’ve never had a bitch that tight in my life!” Chris joked, glancing at me triumphantly.



“That’s because you’re such an ugly motherfucker, Chris. She was definitely green, though, Did you hear those screams? Music to my ears, man. Music to my ears.” Jason taunted, eyeing me for a reaction to his disgusting commentary. But their taunts didn’t really faze me. I had already been completely betrayed and defeated. I just came and stood beside them, fully clothed but still dishevelled. Bryan looked at me, aghast. The others appeared delighted at my abasement.



“Are you okay, man? I mean, god–” He asked, sounding almost horrified. But then he realised that Jason was scowling at him. “She was shrieking like a banshee….” He quickly added, laughing nervously. Jason seemed to accept that, and turned his gaze to me.



“You were crying like a little bitch. But I suppose that’s fitting. Screams of ecstasy!” He taunted.



“I was crying because it hurt.” I said flatly, then sniffled. I felt strangely numb, as if this conversation were just a dream, but I could also detect a wave of red-hot anger growing within me.



“It’s supposed to hurt. Sex isn’t for the enjoyment of women.” Jason chided, voice sounding darker than just a few minutes previous. “Basically, the sole purpose of women is to be fucked. And maybe make me a sandwich You’re not good for anything else. You’re just a fucking bitch.” He spat.



The others vigorously nodded their agreement, though Bryan still looked somewhat horror-struck. But the smiles on Chris and Bryan’s faces provoked me to the edge, and the words rushed out of my mouth, unchecked.



“You guys are a bunch of sadist bastards!” Jason flinched at my defiance. ” Rapists.”



“You watch your mouth, Jenny.” Jason growled, stepping toward me. I quivered in fear, but at the same time, my anger was overwhelming. I wanted to kill them all. Besides, what more could they do to me?



“Or what? You’ll rape me again? You’re a fucking pig!” I raised my voice, undeterred by Jason’s warning, “Go to he-” But then he slapped me, across the face, silencing me. It stung badly, and I held my face and the tears began to pour once again.



“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you little tranny! I’ll fucking take you whenever I feel like it, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it, cunt!” He yanked on my long hair and I screamed in agony as he used it to pull me to the ground. I was on my belly again, and I wailed for help as I guessed that I was going to be taken again.



“Please!”



“Hold her down. ” The boys each held me face-down on the grass, but it wasn’t really necessary. I wasn’t fighting them, but simply frozen with fear. “Get her pants down.”



“No! Jason, please!” Jason just growled at me, shoving my face into the dirt.



“Don’t listen to her. Take them off!”



The boys complied, roughly tugging my jeans jeans and underpants down to my ankles, and I was once again exposed to the mountain air. It happened so fast.



I heard birds singing, undeterred by the injustice that was being done.



“Stop!” I urged, “Don’t!”



Then, I heard a belt being unclasped. I couldn’t bring myself to fight.



“Please–” I begged. “I’m s-sorry. Please don’t!” I cursed my foolish display of defiance.



“You need to be taught your place, Jenny. Look up at me. Look at me!” I craned my neck to see Jason standing over me, his belt in hand; I whimpered.



I knew what a belt felt like, and sobs wracked my body as the memories of my childhood and adolescent punishments flooded back. My father wanted a son, and instead he had me, and he was ashamed of me. My father has used his belt on me often. I thought about how similar Jason and my father were, about how, if he were here, my drunkard father would probably applaud Jason’s cruelty and relish my suffering.



But as the first lick of the belt struck my buttocks, my pained memories were forgotten. I jerked and cried out, but the boys just chuckled at my distress and held me securely in place for the next blow to reach me. Jason started out softly, but with each stroke his intensity increased, and the volume of my cries with it. My body bucked and twitched under the unrelenting belt, and I begged through woeful sobs for him to stop.



But Jason didn’t stop. He brought the belt down mercilessly, and soon I was once again an undignified heap of tears and wailing, as if a time machine had taken me back to when I was fifteen and my inebriated father had found bottles of nail polish hidden in my dresser. Jason was calling me a bitch, a whore, a cunt, and a sissy over and over again as he beat me, and I was writhing about, despite the firm grip of the boys, trying desperately to escape the pain.



The blows continued raining down, even as I lost the energy to buck and squirm, and I became too numb to beg for mercy. My sobbing was reduced to silent weeping, as I lay limp in the grass allowing Jason to thrash me with impunity. Jason was getting winded, I could hear his laboured breathing between the slaps of impact.



“Hey, I think she’s learned her lesson, dude.” I heard Bryan say, his voice subdued, almost remorseful. “She’s crying.” But Jason continued for a while, long after the boys’ laughter and been replaced with an awkward silence. I think even Chris was amazed at Jason’s cruelty. Finally, he stopped. He walked away suddenly, growling his warning.
“Don’t you ever talk back to me like that again, woman!” I uttered my agreement into the dirt, where I wept. One of the boys was stroking my hair, trying to comfort me. I couldn’t stop crying.



“Just be a good girl and listen to him, okay?” The voice whispered. It was Bryan. He rubbed my back, but I couldn’t respond, because I couldn’t stop weeping. I just couldn’t.



Much later, I would examine myself in a mirror which depicted a wretched sight. Jason’s beating had left my buttocks a bruised mixture of purple, blue, and yellow, covered in welts. Jason’s belt had broken the skin in several places, especially the backs of my thighs. I still have a few scars. My father had lacked Jason’s endurance.



Jason scorned my uncontrollable sobbing, and Chris walked off with him, to where, I didn’t bother guessing. Bryan stayed close, rubbing my back and reassuring me between my sobs.



“It’ll be okay….But you really need to stop crying, Jenny.” He stroked my hair again. “You know that Jason is impatient. He’ll hurt you again.” He actually sounded somewhat concerned. I managed to croak out an “Okay” and I tried to stop the sobs. They slowed.



“Genevieve, we have to get your pants up, okay? It’s going to hurt, but you need to do it.” I nodded, still sobbing, and started to get up. Slowly.



My buttocks were very tender. That’s the only way I can describe how it felt. It felt as if something so slight as a pinprick would ruin me. I moved very cautiously. Bryan helped me with my underpants, and I gasped when he pulled them up over my bruised thighs and buttocks. It hurt, but I gritted my teeth, and Bryan began moving my jeans up. He was moving quicker now, and I whimpered as he brought them up to my waist.



Bryan took me by surprise when he pulled me into an embrace. I didn’t refuse the gesture. Instead, I pulled myself into him and cried softly into his broad chest. He held me and brushed his hand through my hair with his free hand. “It’ll be okay,” he soothed. His voice did not contain the mockery I had come to expect from the cruel trio. “You have to do what he wants you to, then everything will be okay.” He rubbed my back, and I moaned softly at the friendly touch. On this day, I really did need a back rub.



At the time, I didn’t really have the coherence to analyse how I felt about my rapist trying to soothe me. Stockholm syndrome, I guess. I was just grateful that somebody cared about me, and Bryan’s paternal reassurance calmed my fears.



He slowly released me, and I took the hint and let go. Jason and Chris were heading back, toward me, and Jason wore an expression of grim determination. He was carrying my knife.



He stalked right up to me, until he stood, towering over me. I did my best to quell my tears.



“You learn your lesson?” Jason spat. I gathered up my courage, and took Bryan’s advice. I put on the bravest face I could muster.



“Yes, sir.” I sniffled.



“Good.” Jason was examining the steel blade as he spoke, “It’s a nice knife, Jenny. Not really a woman’s tool, but a good choice. I wonder, why did you give this up in the first place?” He smirked up at me.



“Because I didn’t want to hurt you…sir.” I said, matter-of-factly.



“Is that so? How nice, isn’t it, boys? But I wonder, do you feel differently about it now?” I made no reply, and Jason’s smirk grew in width. “I said, do you wanna hurt me now, Jenny?”



He held out the knife and told me to take it. So I did. I probably could’ve killed him with the blade, but I just stared at it. I had never intended it to be a self-defense weapon. It’s just handy to have a good knife when you’re out camping.



“Go ahead, Jenny. Hurt me.” He held his arms up, giving me a clear shot of his abdomen. He was vulnerable, and perhaps a different sort of girl would’ve plunged the blade into his chest without hesitation, but I just looked quizzically at the blade, then at Jason, and shook my head.



Jason and Chris snickered at my apparent cowardice. Then Jason held out his hand expectantly, and I returned the knife to him for the second time. Deja vu.



“Good girl.” He gibed, sliding the knife into its scabbard, then he hung it on his belt. “Now, since you seem pretty content with being our little sissy, you’re gonna suck all three of us off, and you’re gonna like it. You’ll moan like you can’t get enough, and you’ll swallow. Got it?”



My heart sunk. How could this not be over? I had already been subjected to a enough trauma for several lifetimes. I wanted to protest, to point out that, clearly, one should be content with the gang rape and move on. I mean, quit while you’re ahead, right?



Instead, I just nodded.



There was a brief pause where I looked pleadingly at Jason, hoping against hope for a reprieve from the callous man’s cruelty. But he just glared at me and took a threatening half-step forward. I quickly kneeled before him, ignoring the soreness in my nether regions as I did so, and began unbuckling the man’s belt.



Unbuckling another man’s belt, it’s not something I had done before. Jason put on his belt differently than I, perhaps because he was right-handed? My fingers fumbled with his button, and Chris made a joke about my impatience. Jason was laughing, but not at the joke: he was laughing at my mortification. I was sweating now, because I was aware that my performance would be scrutinised by all three.



Finally, I got the zipper down. I hesitated, because this was all foreign territory to me, then began to expose him.



Jason was large, at any rate, much larger than I. He was uncut, unlike myself, and I grimaced as I tried to picture myself sucking on the large, erect member.



“Go on.” He growled, and I closed my eyes as I took the ample cock into my then-virgin mouth. I almost gagged as I tasted what I guessed must’ve been me, but then I felt Jason’s hand on the back of my head, forcing me even further onto his penis. I wanted to scream, but I was pretty well incapable at that point, and I gagged repeatedly as Jason steadily pushed me so that I was taking him in my throat. I didn’t dare bite.



My eyes were still closed, but I began to work his shaft as I had seen in a few pornographic films, moving my self up and down and trying to ignore the immense discomfort in my throat. I used my tongue, willing the nasty taste of myself away, and began moaning rhythmically, just like in the movies.



I heard laughter, but I was too focused on the task at hand to care. The harder you work, I reasoned, the quicker this will be over. I was breathing heavily through my nostrils as I forced myself to bob my head onto the shaft, provoking wretched gagging which would create a strange, but not entirely unpleasant, sensation in my throat as my muscles spasmed tight around Jason. He would grunt when this occurred.



In the midst of it, when the gagging didn’t feel as bad, I began to register a confusing sensation. I felt tingling inside of me, the beginnings of arousal. My own small member was trying to stiffen. I was liking this. Maybe because I wasn’t being viciously shorn in two.



Then, just as quickly as I had adjusted to the sucking and moaning, I felt him begin to spasm inside of me, and he started to moan as well, and I knew that I must swallow his ejaculate or face some form of cruel retribution.



It twitched spasmodically as Jason slowly pulled himself slowly outward so he could splash the back of my throat. Then he was spraying me, like a water-pistol aimed inside of my mouth, and I was trying to swallow it all before I could taste it, but it just kept coming and coming. I grimaced at the taste, but moaned for Jason as I swallowed his entire load, my rapid gulping causing Chris to laugh.



Finally, Jason slowly withdrew himself from my mouth, then told me to kiss it. I obeyed.



“Not bad, Jenny. Not bad. I think you liked that, didn’t you?” His eyes caught me, and I looked away, silent. “C’mon, no shame in admitting that you like sucking cock! Well…?”



My throat was sore, and there were still some unpleasant tastes lingering on my taste buds, but I could not deny that I had enjoyed it. At least a tad bit more than being brutally sodomised.



“Yes.” I blushed, and of course Chris snickered and Bryan laughed, but Jason wasn’t satisfied.



“Yes, what?” He tugged at my dirty hair threateningly.



“Yes, I like sucking cock.” I spoke, ashamed of myself.



“No shame in that, Jenny. Any woman worth her salt likes to take a big dick in her mouth, and–” Jason reached around and squeezed my woefully sore left buttock playfully “right in her ass. Totally natural, isn’t that right, Bryan?”



“Sure is.” Bryan replied, and could it be that he nodded at me?



“So, now it’s Bryan’s turn, isn’t it? ” Bryan nodded, and so I approached him, knelt before him, and unfastened his jeans.



Bryan was smaller than Jason, cut, but fully erect. As I took his hard cock into my mouth, I found myself surprised with just how hard Bryan was. He must have been oh-so-aroused by the sight of me on my knees before him, and he gently rested his hand on the back of my head. And I was aroused also. I found Bryan’s gentleness, in stark contrast with Jason’s brutality, to be empowering, and felt myself become intensely excited that a man desired me so badly as Bryan seemed to.



Bryan didn’t force me to deep-throat, and for that I was grateful, because my throat was beginning to ache. He tickled the back of my throat, and I massaged him with my tongue, slowly at first, then steadily increasing my speed in time with Bryan’s grunts of pleasure. I bobbed up and down on his shaft, moaning, the humiliation of the scenario forgotten in the utter joy I felt in giving Bryan my mouth.



“She’s liking this.” I heard Chris comment, and I remember thinking that he was right about that. It didn’t take long at all before Bryan’s hardness began quivering with the beginnings of an orgasm, and I quickened my tongue-massaging to ensure he did have one. His semen gushed into my mouth, onto the back of my throat, and I once again found myself vigorously gulping down another man’s seed, this time between my own genuine moans of pleasure. The stuff just kept coming, and the sheer volume of his semen made the moment nearly comical, because I was gulping so rapidly for several seconds.



When he had at last finished piping the hot liquid into my mouth, he tousled my hair and and complimented me. I cleaned him off, suppressing a smile at the thought of what I had just done and thoroughly enjoyed doing. Of course, the boys were joking about the amount of “cum” I had swallowed, comparing my desperate swallowing to the frantic mouthing of a fish out of water. I actually found that analogy pretty funny, but suppressed my laughter. They’d no idea that I found some humour in my own predicament. Some much-needed humour.



The boys had taken me out here to ruin and humiliate me, to emotionally blackmail me and punish me for my decision to transition, but instead they had inadvertently awakened my latent sexuality, and I now found myself harbouring a strange lust for a man who had raped me. Of course, if Jason knew that I had actually liked giving Bryan oral, he probably would’ve eschewed the sexual sadism in favour of just beating me with his fists, so I feigned disgust as I stepped away from Bryan and waited for them to force me onward.



“How come you didn’t choke her?” Jason asked Bryan, grinning.



“Because I like fucking my women, not asphyxiating them.” Bryan shook his head. “I don’t know how you can orgasm while your woman is turning blue. You must be some sort of sick fuck.” Bryan said in a joking manner, and Jason replied with a feigned insult of his own.



I almost burst out laughing when Bryan made the “sick fuck” comment. Thank you, captain Obvious.



“Chris’s turn.” Jason prodded, and so I dutifully got on my knees in front of the third man, but when I started to unbuckle his belt, he interrupted, “I think I’d rather have another go at your ass.” He hissed, and I looked up, horrified. The sick bastard just grinned, his smile stretching almost from ear to ear, and offered me no mercy.



I’m not going to account yet another anal rape. You can use your imagination (if you are so inclined). As you may have inferred, it was a horribly unpleasant, agonising ordeal.



When Chris finally did finish, he spanked me, hard, and complimented my ass. I quickly got up, pulling up my underpants and jeans. I wiped fresh tears from my face with my sleeve, and made to join the waiting group. The soreness made it difficult to walk, and forced me into a degrading bow-legged gait that amused my captors.

This story contains themes of dominance and submission in a lesbian setting. If you think you might be offended by such material please try a different story.



The Catalyst



Chapter One



It had been at least fifteen years since I last interviewed a candidate in person, certainly not since I had taken the company public, and I was twenty-four then. Those fifteen years had seen the company grow from a single office to world-wide representation and a current staff of more than three hundred.



I checked myself in the mirror and decided that, whilst those years had brought a fair measure of stress, time had been kind to me. Unless they actually knew very few people could guess my real age.



My mother still had people thinking she was in her fifties when she had, in fact, turned seventy and I shared those same genes and much else besides. Most women do not get to see their mothers naked body that often but mine had been a life model of some renown during her twenties and she had been the subject of a couple of moderately famous portraits.



It was obvious that we were both slim and long legged with the large breasts that seemed to be a family hallmark but I also knew that we shared the same prominent nipples and, courtesy of the immodest Clarke portrait, very noticeable labia.



She and I were facially similar and she, in turn, had often been mistaken for the silent film star Louise Brooks hence the scandal that had attached to the Clark portrait when it was first hung at The National.



Melanie, my p.a., looked in at the door and announced the candidate’s arrival and I noticed that she seemed a little flustered which was at odds with her normally cool demeanour.



I stood up to greet Jade and was immediately struck by the fact that she was not intimidated by my office. Even I am prepared to admit that it is a little ostentatious but then, nowadays, I am called upon to entertain captains of industry and others amongst the great and good.



Jade looked at me fixedly as she crossed the room and I reinforced the impression I had gained from her photographs that she might scrub up nicely. Her make-up was cheap and not well applied but she had ice blue eyes over high cheek bones and a nicely shaped mouth. She also had lovely blonde hair but it was uncaringly styled.



I instinctively locked eyes with her and so I only noticed the way she was dressed in a peripheral way. She slouched a little as she walked but that did little to disguise the fact that she was nicely proportioned and the unkind thought flitted through my mind that, if all else failed, she could make a nice living with the aid of a pole.



She wore a mismatched jacket over a very short skirt with a blouse that struggled to contain her ample charms. I had to remind myself that she was barely nineteen and her experience of interviews was extremely limited.



I was going to try and keep things informal by inviting her to sit on the sofa but she immediately opted for the visitors chair on the opposite side of my desk. She did not attempt to shake hands and I was struck by the way that she moved the chair away from the desk to establish a personal space for herself.



As I went through her spartan résumé she gave terse one word answers and I had to remind myself that she was only attending the interview in order to tick the box and retain her entitlement to a job seekers allowance.



Unbeknownst to her I had accessed some of her more personal records and had established that she had been raised by a series of foster parents and had a very patchy school attendance. A word that came up more than once was ‘manipulative’ but she had a very high intelligence quotient; indeed, so high that she was suspected of cheating and had been retested.



She looked bored and unbuttoned her jacket as if to suggest that the office was too warm and that she was anxious to leave. As she did so my eyes flitted to her chest. Beneath her blouse she wore a cheap uplift bra so thin as to suggest the darker shading of her nipples.



It happened in the space of a split second but there was the tiniest glint in her eye letting me know that she had caught my glance. I felt awkward for an instant but I collected myself and carried on with my questions.



“Do you have any hobbies or personal interests?”



“I like to go out… but I have to find someone willing to pay for me.”



It was the longest sentence she had strung together and I wondered just exactly what she meant but then, as if to illustrate her point, she sat up a little straighter and crossed one leg over the other. Her skirt rode up revealing an expanse of pale thigh and I could see her almost daring me to look.



It was hard not to but my mind was racing. On paper, she seemed a prime candidate but if she was prostituting herself in order to live it was a complete non-starter. I was in two minds as to whether or not I should carry on the interview process or simply bring things quickly to a close.



“That sounds a little dangerous. There are some very strange men out there.”



She paused and half smiled before she replied.



“Oh believe me, I am very choosey when it comes to men and, besides, women are far easier prey.”



If she was attempting to shock me she succeeded but years of negotiations had enabled me to perfect a poker face. Even now there was no confirmation that she was referring to sexual favours but then, very slowly, she recrossed her legs.



It was all I could do to hold her steady gaze but the flash at the edge of my vision suggested that she was either wearing the sheerest of panties or was not wearing any at all.



Had she come to the interview looking for an opportunity to pimp herself?



She had chosen the wrong woman. After two failed long term relationships I had been ready to give up on the male of the species and focus fully on my business. I still had a lot of men coming on to me but I tended to choose the younger, more virile, specimens when the fancy took me and simply kicked them out of the door the morning after.



I stood up and gave a neutral smile.



“I would like to thank you for coming in today and we will be in touch. My assistant will look after your travel expenses.”



She rose from her chair without a word and walked out of the room leaving me to make a final note on her file. I gave it a further ten minutes and decided that I needed some fresh air. Melanie was not at her desk in the outer office and so I scribbled a post it note and stuck it on her screen.



My office occupied the top floor of five and I decided to take the stairs but I caught my heel on the very first flight and felt it go. I cursed, took off my now useless shoes, and headed back upstairs to the ladies room where I kept a pair of trainers in my locker.



As I walked in I heard a distinct groan coming from the single cubicle. It could only have been Melanie as we were the only two situate on the fifth floor. I wondered if it was her time of the month and I was about to creep back out again, to save her embarrassment, when it came again.



On second hearing I knew that it was not the sound of someone in discomfort, rather, it was something from the opposite end of the spectrum. I froze to the spot and I felt my heart beating faster.



There could be no doubt. Straining my ears I now heard the wet sound of frantic fingers and an accompanying muffled sob. A vivid, unbidden, picture formed in my mind of what was happening on the other side of the locked door.



Melanie was a graduate destined for great things with the company. She was as good a personal assistant as I could have ever have hoped for and, from a company image point of view, it helped that she was stunningly attractive.



In the eighteen months she had worked for me she had never been anything less than totally professional and I could not quite square it away with what I was now hearing.



Excluding the theatrics of the occasional porn film I had never witnessed another woman reaching an orgasm and I was embarrassed to find that it was acting on me in a very unsettling manner.



She was clearly reaching a crisis point and I reasoned with myself that it would be easier to slip away when the moment came. It was obvious that she was trying to stifle the urge to cry out and then I jumped as something banged against the door.



At that point she must have lost control. I could see the heel of her shoe beneath the door as her foot tremored rattling it in its hinges. I now knew that she was seated, reinforcing the image I had formed, and a low, plaintive, wail heralded her climax.



I quickly gathered myself and padded from the room stealthily closing the door behind me.



I found the sanctuary of my own office and, for the first time that I could remember, I locked the door behind me. It took a moment for my breathing to settle and then I began to think things through. Had Melanie’s earlier discomfort had anything to do with Jade?



To the best of my knowledge Melanie was much like me. She could have her choice of men and none of them seemed to last too long. It had never occurred to me that she might have an interest in women as well.



Surprisingly, that thought set up an immediate tingling between my legs. I suppose that every red blooded woman has wondered, at some time, what it would be like but for all but a very few it remains a fantasy.



There have been a few occasions, over the years, when I have looked at a particularly attractive woman and, just for a few seconds, the thought has crossed my mind but that simply spurred me on to get laid by some anonymous stud.



The plain truth was that I could have done with some love and attention at that very minute and then another outrageous idea entered my head. I still had my overnight bag in the office, following my trip to Dijon, and I now retrieved it.



I travel with two toothbrushes. One, a top of the range rechargeable model, and the other cheap and battery operated. The cheap one has a particularly vigorous motor and, when mated with the plastic cap from my hair mousse dispenser, it becomes a very effective vibrator thus saving any potentially embarrassing encounters with customs officials.



I had never done anything like this in the office before and my hands were trembling with nervous excitement as I put my little toy together. In a spirit of devilment I was tempted to strip off altogether but my skirt would help to muffle the sound.



I slipped out of my panties noticing, with embarrassment, just how damp they were. I dropped them into my handbag and then, like a guilty schoolchild, I relaxed more deeply into my chair and put my hand between my legs.



As soon as I flicked the switch the sound from beneath my desk sounded hideously loud but I was confident that it could not be heard from beyond the door. I began to trace the rounded head along the fringes of my labia and gasped with the pleasure of it.



I closed my eyes and thought about the bank’s new loan officer. He was probably around twenty-five and was positively drooling by the time our meeting was over. I had him noted down as an easy catch.



The possibility made me wet and, as I started to press more firmly, I felt my sex opening in welcome.



It was at that precise moment that my head was invaded by another image altogether. With frightening clarity I imagined Jade sitting before me with her legs lewdly parted and this time she was definitely not wearing panties.



I wanted to dispel the mental picture but it brought with it a surge of arousal that shivered my whole body. It seemed almost real as I stared at her sex and she encouraged me to use my toy more forcefully. Matching the thought to the deed I pressed it deep inside and then I began to work it in and out with almost brutish ferocity.



All the time I could see her face and hear her voice as she taunted me to work harder and then she simply told me to come.



I usually have to work towards a climax but that simple phantom command had my body shaking as the most powerful orgasm I had experienced in quite some time rocked me to the foundations.



I was left breathless as it finally ebbed away but then I heard the phone ring in the outer office. It was answered almost immediately, confirming that Melanie was back on station, but that only prompted further wantonness.



The room reeked of arousal, and I was going to have to open a window, but I imagined ringing through and telling Melanie to come in and take care of something for me.



“Oh my God!”



I actually said the words out loud as I pictured her coming through the door and seeing me like this and I unconsciously turned my toy back on and started to stimulate my clitoris.



Chapter 2



At home that same evening I tried to make sense of it all but to little avail. I decided to chalk it up to experience, something I could laugh at when I looked back on it.



The problem was that my sleep was troubled. I could not shake the feeling that Jade had, somehow, got one over on me. Given our respective stations in life it was a dumb thing to fret about. She would go back to her shabby little existence and I need never see her again.



By the time I slept on it I had had a change of heart. In her own way Jade had simply manifested the basic traits that I had actually been looking for and I was convinced that, with a little subtle moulding, my scheme could be made to work.



Melanie raised an eyebrow when I asked her to invite Jade onto the company’s induction scheme, on the usual generous remuneration terms, but she did not openly question my decision.



After work I wandered down to the local wine bar where Melanie was holding court for a few friends and colleagues to celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday. In light of what had transpired the day before I found myself scrutinizing her interactions and particularly those with other women.



I laughed to myself, decided that I was reading far too much into things, and drained my glass. As I set it down someone directly behind me spoke soto voce.



“She’s very beautiful don’t you think?”



I turned to be confronted by a tall woman dressed entirely in black. She was about my height and, at a guess, she must have been around thirty years old. She had dark, piercing, eyes over a slightly upturned nose and a very full mouth which was precisely defined with lip liner.



I would not have said that she was beautiful, perhaps strikingly good looking, but she had a poise that suggested that it did not matter what I, or anybody else, thought. She smiled and held out her hand.



“Audris, I’m here with Melanie’s cousin”



She indicated a slender, blonde, girl who had been laughing with Melanie minutes earlier. Ironically, I had read their apparent intimacy as flirtatiousness and now had to admit to myself just how stupid I had been.



I introduced myself as Melanie’s boss and discovered that Audris was acting as London correspondent for the Die Zeit newspaper. We made small talk but, rather salaciously, I gently probed for more details of her relationship with Melanie’s cousin who barely looked old enough to drink legally.



She, for her part, enigmatically steered around my questions and brought the conversation back to more mundane topics. At some point I even asked her where she had her hair done. She favoured a heavy bob cut which brought out the best in her dark, lustrous, tresses and the style looked very high maintenance.



I excused myself to go and use the ladies room but when I got there it was to find a gaggle of young women monopolising the mirrors as they chatted and adjusted their make-up.



Fortunately, I knew that there were alternative facilities on the first floor. The upstairs function room was not being used and so there was only minimal lighting on the staircase but I was familiar with the layout.



It was nice to enjoy a quiet moment but as I finished up and pressed the flush I could hear that someone else had also found their way upstairs. I came out and was surprised to find Audris checking herself in the mirror.



“Sorry, you seemed to know where you were going and so I followed you.”



My immediate, unsettling, thought was that she had trailed me in the belief that I needed somewhere to ‘powder my nose’. I felt sure that she was going to ask me an awkward question but I did not realize just how awkward.



“I saw the way that you were looking at Melanie. You don’t have any experience with women do you?”



I was so shocked that I did not even consider the sheer impertinence of the remark. My instincts immediately called for a riposte.



“Nor you with men I think.”



She smiled condescendingly.



“I enjoy a pretty boy from time to time.”



“So where does Melanie’s cousin fit into the scheme of things?”



“Are you asking if we are lovers? I suppose we are in a manner of speaking.”



Now I was intrigued and it must have shown. She paused for a moment before continuing as if letting me in on a secret.



“She has certain needs…and I am happy to accommodate her.”



I feared that she was alluding to some tawdry drugs issue and that my initial guess on encountering her may have been close to the mark. I was going to check my make up but decided to leave it and get back downstairs as expeditiously as possible.



She shifted very slightly, not enough to bar my passage but enough to make me pause.



“I want to make you an offer”



I looked at her more uncertain than ever but she had piqued my curiosity. I said nothing and allowed her to continue.



“I enjoy sex, particularly oral sex, but I am not one of life’s natural givers. Melanie’s cousin, on the other hand, is…how should I put it…keen to serve.”



Inside my mind was reeling but I hoped that I managed to keep my features neutral. I was fully aware of the concept of a dominant partner in a lesbian relationship but I had never heard it put in quite these terms. It took a second or two to realize that she was still speaking.



“She will happily spend hours going down on me. She just never seems to tire.”



The image that she conjured caused an inappropriate tingling between my legs. My experience with men, even those who professed to enjoy it, was a series of disappointing, perfunctory, performances. The idea of someone prepared to carry on for however long I wanted was arousing in the extreme and the fact of it being another woman fully attuned and sensitive to my needs only added an extra frisson.



Caught up in this reverie her words became imbued with an unsettling intimacy



“The truth is that I’ve taken all that she’s got to give and it’s time for me to move on. I am going to tell her later this evening.”



I looked at her wondering where this was leading and then, with a shock, it dawned on me. Was she putting Melanie’s cousin on offer?



It says everything that I actually gave it a seconds thought before my scruples took control and I trod it down but then she confounded me altogether.



“So, after tonight, you and I are never likely to run into one another again. It will remain strictly between us. Do you want to know what it’s like to taste another woman?”



Her words hit me like a cosh but the shock was compounded as she provocatively lifted her skirt. Somewhere along the way she had taken off her panties and her sex was blatantly displayed.



For a fleeting instant my mind was drawn to my interview with Jade and my inappropriate behaviour in the office. It was almost as if I could feel a physical presence between my legs.



Audris looked at me with a mixture of invitation and challenge and I briefly wondered what it was that had made her single me out. She had already made clear her own preference which suggested that she saw me in a submissive role.



As anyone who really knew me could attest I lived my life by being assertive and so what had she seen that marked me out as something different? I had a sudden, irrational, fear that she knew exactly what I was thinking as she proceeded to make her invitation even more blatant.

She caressed her sex with a single finger opening herself and revealing the shiny pinkness of her inner lips. Whether by design or not she was positioned so that she was illuminated by a ceiling spotlight which would otherwise have lit up the wall length mirror behind her.



She was wet with arousal and her scent began to pervade the confined space. For a second or two I stopped drawing breath, not wanting to be a part of it, but then I had no choice but to exhale.



The musky smell was as familiar as my own and, as it impinged on my senses, I found that I had to swallow to in order to clear my mouth.



Audris was unhurried as she continued to stimulate herself with the appearance of someone guaranteed another conquest. This display of self assurance rankled me but it felt as if the walls were closing in on us. Somewhere in the distance I still registered the sound of music and the tinkle of laughter but it was like another world.



For a few crazy seconds I wondered what it would be like. How would her sex feel squeezing my tongue? I tried to dismiss the aberrant thought but some inner imp was asking who would ever know.



Warped logic was telling me that this might be my only chance, no strings attached. If I walked away now was I going to forever regret it?



I did not want to give her the satisfaction of surrendering but I was already rationalizing it by telling myself that I was doing it for me and not for her.



I gave her what I hoped was an indifferent look, suggesting that the whole thing was of no great moment, but as I knelt in front of her I struggled to avoid trembling. The coldness of the tiles beneath my knees momentarily jarred me back to reality but I was now so close to her that I could feel the radiant heat of her sex.



She gave no guidance nor instructions leaving me to find my own salvation. I decided that I would lick her just once both to find out what it was like and to prove to myself that I could do anything if I so wished.



Again she seemed to read my mind. She withdrew her finger leaving her glistening sex open to my gaze and it triggered an odd memory of childhood confectionary. I closed my eyes and leant forward presenting my tongue.



There was nothing childlike about her taste. It had an unexpected depth with a hint of sweetness and it was undeniably feminine. At the same time I breathed her scent and understood why it was such a potent force of nature.



I reflexively licked for a second time this time using the flat of my tongue. The sensation coursed to the extremes of my body impelling me to open my eyes. Her taste and smell came to together so perfectly it was if a piece of me that had been missing had now found its place.



In some way I was frightened by my body’s reaction and I tried to deny it but I had begun to lick avidly filling my mouth. I glanced upwards to find her looking at me with an indulgent smile and I was spurred to try and get a response from her.



I wanted to know what her clitoris would feel like beneath her tongue but, before I could make the attempt, she entwined her fingers in my hair. She started to pull me in against her sex smearing my face and pressing my nose into the divide.



I knew that I should have been resisting but there was something almost primal as she left her mark upon me.



Finally she allowed me to continue and I found her clitoris to be larger than mine and surprisingly firm. She gave no obvious indication that I was doing well but her body could not lie. After a few moments of avid attention her sex was leaking and it felt as if the air itself was moist.



I was perspiring, and my blouse was going to be ruined, but I was heedless. I flicked my tongue frenetically until, with a gentle sigh, she acknowledged my achievement.



As she shivered in contentment I could not escape the impression that I was simply the hors d’oeuvre and that she had other plans for later. For a second or two I contemplated whether or not I wanted to be part of those plans but sanity prevailed.



Without a word of thanks she slipped into the cubicle leaving me to clean myself up as best I could at the sink.



When I returned downstairs I looked guiltily towards Melanie’s cousin who, in turn, was anxiously scanning the bar presumably looking for Audris. I decided to take my leave and quickly said my goodbyes.



Chapter Three



Over the next four weeks the encounter with Audris was rarely far from my mind. Looking back I was angry with myself for what was, essentially, an act of abasement, but there were no witnesses save Audris herself.



It was something that I had no intention of repeating but each time I considered some male company to “purge my system” I made found myself making excuses.



On more than one occasion I had been tempted to ask after Melanie’s cousin but, as I had not been formally introduced to her on the night, it might have seemed suspicious.



I had more or less forgotten about Jade but then I saw from my calendar that I was scheduled to catch up with all of the recent inductees. I called up the report from her line manager and, in summary, she had turned out to be the most promising candidate of the group but with the caveat that she still had attitude problems.



A few days later she walked into my office for the second time and it was hard to believe that this was the same young woman. Her hair had been cut shorter and her makeup looked as if it could have been professionally applied.



She was wearing a gray, two-piece, business suit with matching high heeled shoes. It was a chain store purchase but it looked very good on her and the shoes helped to improve her posture.



I had imposed a strict dress code for the company but I was surprised that she was adhering to it. Even her accent seemed to have softened or perhaps it was simply because there was less aggression in her tone as she answered my questions.



The transformation from surly to something almost appreciative was quite remarkable and when I had finished the formalities and asked her how things were in general she was happy to engage.



I told her that I thought that she looked a lot happier in herself but her reply caught me off guard



“You too. You look liberated.”



It was an odd choice of words and the more so because it fitted with something I had been trying to define for some days. I prided myself on the fact that I coped with the day to day stresses of running the company almost without effort but they clearly had an impact. It had come home to me when I had my aberrant moment with Audris; for that brief span of time I felt a total release when nothing else mattered to me except the overwhelming desire to fulfil my immediate need.



I mentally shook my head and moved to bring things to a close.



“Jade, I have to confess that when I first met you I had misgivings but I pleased to say that my faith in you seems well placed.”



I was expecting a grateful smile but her face remained neutral as she steadily held my eyes.



“I was surprised that you took me on. I’m ‘street smart’ but that’s not what you’re looking for. I was convinced that you had an ulterior motive.”



I felt my eyes blink involuntarily. Her powers of perception continued to surprise me and I quickly trotted out my prepared line which had an element of truth.



“I think that there are some very intelligent women out there who are not given a chance because of their background. I have been successful in my career and I would like to give something back.”



She paused before answering.



“I was not looking for charity. I was doing well for myself.”



This retort wrong footed me and I answered without thought.



“By consorting?”



She smiled knowingly.



“I never sold myself…except on my own terms.



There are lots of older women out there, successful women like you, who have certain needs. Most of them are lesbians, some are straight, but they all have the same desire. They want to get down on their knees and use their tongues on young girls.



I see you’re shocked.



It’s easy money. I know they find me attractive, I can pass as under aged for those that want it, and I am very discrete. Best of all, I enjoy it. They will send hours servicing me and I can lose count of the number of orgasms.”



I was dumbfounded. I was her employer and I could not believe her effrontery but then it dawned on me that she had spoken in the present tense suggesting that it was still going on. I was stirred to anger.



“I am going to pretend that this conversation never took place. Your private life is your own but if there is even a suggestion that you are involved in anything that impugns my company you are out of a job. Am I understood?”



She looked at me levelly and appeared in no way chastened.



“Understood.”



She rose from her seat and turned towards the door and I had the dreadful feeling that she was aware of my eyes guiltily surveying the sway of her backside.



As she left the room I was immediately aware of my clammy palms and a tingling between my legs. Once again I feared that she had gotten the best of our exchange and I had to calm myself with the thought that, if I so wished, I could simply sack her.



I tried to settle to some work but it was hard to put her from my mind. Was it true that there were women like that? I concluded that she was exaggerating in an effort to see if I could be scandalized but did she realize just how close to home she had struck?



My fingers idled on the computer keyboard and then I began to type a few keywords into the browser. An hour later I had established that women, like Melanie’s cousin, were not so rare as I might have supposed and it followed that there were others, like Jade and Audris, who were prepared to take advantage of the situation. For many it seemed to go hand in hand with the infliction of pain but this was anathema to me.



I was amused to see that there was an established meeting place in the heart of the city. It was a club that I knew as it was close to a restaurant that I frequently used for entertaining purposes. There was nothing about it to suggest that it was anything out of the ordinary; just one of many drinking clubs that had sprung up in years past to circumvent the more stringent licencing hours of the times.



I closed down the PC and decided to take a stroll in the park to clear my head before setting off home. The evening sun was low in the sky but the warmth of the day lingered and I took the long route around the circumference.



At the north gate I was, perhaps, five minutes from the club that had piqued my interest and some sense of mischief must have guided my feet to take a look at it in a different light. There was a Starbucks opposite and I bought a latte and amused myself by sitting at the window to watch the comings and goings.



People were thronging away from the hive of offices but, in the course of half an hour, I saw only two very ordinary women turn into the shadowed doorway. It was midweek and I supposed that it only came to life nearer the weekend and I guess it was that, more than anything else, that determined want happened next.



With my heart beating a little faster I crossed the street and, taking a deep breath, I walked through the door.



I do not know what I was expecting but it turned out to be a nondescript wine bar and I even noted a couple of men drinking at a table. I was mildly disappointed and turned to leave but I was still a little thirsty and so I took a seat at the bar and ordered a small beer.



The barmaid was a young, bored looking, eastern European. As she served me my drink she pushed a second glass towards me that was filled with swizzle sticks. I wondered, with amusement, how long she had been in the job.



Apart from the male clients I saw the two women who had entered earlier each sitting alone with their drinks. One was texting on her phone whilst the other seemed absorbed by her laptop.



I began to think that my internet research was not up to date when the sound of laughter drew my attention to the door. Three girls entered the bar sloppily dressed in jeans and sweat tops and each had a tote bag laden with books.



Their presence was incongruous in that we were a long way from the nearest faculty but they seemed at home and the barmaid greeted them familiarly. They ordered soft drinks and popped swizzle sticks into their glasses. They giggled almost childishly as each sought out a pink stick.



They retired to a corner table and lost themselves in their own conversation. The loudest of the group was a very pretty blonde. She had long, naturally curly, hair and wore minimal make-up. I could imagine a talent scout from a modelling agency making an approach to her.



The girl to her left formed a stark contrast. She was heavy set but carried her weight well. There was an air of defiance about her, a pride in who and what she was. Her face was rounded and framed by her short chestnut hair which set off her piercing brown eyes.



The third girl sat with her back to me but I could see her face in the wall mirror. She looked elfin and I was guessing that there was some oriental blood in her veins. She was fully engaged with the others but twice she caught me watching her.



I decided to call it a night but as I drained my glass the woman using the laptop closed it down and put it away. She came to the bar but she did not place another order. Instead, she picked out a blue swizzle stick, returned to her table, and put it into the remains of her drink.



Only then was the significance apparent to me.



For a brief moment the conversation at the girl’s table became muted. After a brief discussion the elfin girl got up and went to the ladies room and my heart tripped as I watched the laptop woman follow her a moment later.



The girl’s companions resumed their conversation as if nothing untoward had happened but my imagination was suddenly running wild. With each minute that passed I felt myself getting warmer.



I ordered another beer and quickly drank half of it to help cool myself down. I told myself that it could all be innocently construed but the truth was that I did not want it to be. It was exactly fourteen minutes later, I had checked my watch often enough to know, when the elfin girl returned.



She took her seat and smiled broadly at her friends before the conversation picked up as though it had never left off. A few moments later the laptop woman returned with a high colour in her cheeks. She made a point of not catching anybody’s eye as she collected her things and made a hurried exit.



I now wanted to get home myself. The urge to touch myself was so strong that I was tempted to use the ladies room but it was going to need more than a quick fix.



I was still not fully anchored to reality when the elfin girl came to the bar. She stood just feet away from me as she ordered three more cokes and I could smell her floral perfume. She paid in cash and left a tip too generous for the serving of drinks alone.



She caught me watching and smiled at me. Before I could react she picked up a blue stick and deftly dropped it into my beer. Then, without a word, she re-joined her friends.



I stared at the stick as if it were an alien artefact that had mysteriously appeared. The sensible thing to do was to pick it out and discard it but it held me mesmerized. I looked over to the girls but they did not acknowledge me and I could not shake the feeling that they knew that I was an ingénue.



After a few moments they began to gather themselves and left the bar as nosily as they had entered. As the barmaid crossed to their table to clear up after them I felt a tinge of disappointment tempered by a sense of relief but when she returned to the bar she put a beer mat down in front of me.



Written neatly in pen was an address and a brief message.



“You looked shy. If you are still interested we’ll see you at 7.00″



I looked up at the barmaid feeling unaccustomedly embarrassed but her expression was totally impassive as she went about her chores.



I knew the saying “going weak at the knees” but I had never experienced it until I tried to get up. I had to hold on to the bar to stop myself from stumbling and to anyone looking I must have appeared drunk. My pulse was racing and I felt flushed but, worse than that, I was aware that my panties were immodestly damp.



There was no way in the world that I was going to take up their offer but I found myself checking my watch and calculating driving distances.



I went back to the office via the park and headed straight down to the garage. The route home took in the underpass but I knew that it would be busy at this hour. Instead, I took the ring road which took me north of the city and, coincidently, closer to the address now etched into my memory.



Traffic started to snarl up closer to the motorway and I decided that I would rather keep on moving. I took a cut through which added a mile to the trip and brought me so close now that curiosity won out and I decided to drive by just to see where they lived.



The address turned out to be a halls of residence and there were knots of students hanging around enjoying the balmy evening air. I parked up for a moment as I considered the best way to get back on route and the dashboard clock showed 18.55



I was almost in a daze as I got out of the car and crossed the street. The entrance to the building had a swipe card reader but an exiting student let me in without query. My legs moved of their own volition as I made my way to the top floor and started to check off door numbers.



When I found 301 I stared at it for long seconds willing myself to turn on my heel but I remained frozen in situ.



Two girls smiled at me as they passed in the corridor and I knew that I had to do something. I knocked hesitantly on the door almost hoping that no one would hear but it was flung open to reveal my elfin fantasy.



She looked at me without surprise and shouted over her shoulder.



“I win!”



She ushered me in and I followed to the end of the hall letting on to a communal kitchen and living area. For a student accommodation it was surprisingly clean and tidy but what really caught my attention was the girl’s attire.



Her two companions from the bar were seated side by side on one of a matched pair of sofas. The blonde girl was wearing a diaphanous teddy that left little to the imagination whilst the brunette wore an abbreviated nightshirt that was almost equally daring. I was under no illusions that the show was for my benefit but I was mortified that they had considered me so predictable.



“Shall we get the formalities out of the way first and then we can have some fun.”



I looked at the elfin girl uncomprehendingly and then I understood. I felt a momentary sense of what can only be described as self-loathing but, notwithstanding; I opened my bag and took out my purse.



I rarely use cash but always carry enough for emergencies. I looked at the modest wad of notes wondering if it was enough but, before I could say anything, she took about half of what I had and put it into the pocket of her jeans.



Having done so she casually began to get undressed and I stared at her mutely.



Everything was happening too fast. I was struck by the stupid notion that we had not even been introduced but then why would they? For my own peace of mind I immediately christened them Jay, Kay and Emm after three characters from a fondly remembered children’s book.



My eyes flitted to ‘Jay’, the blonde, and she raised her head just a fraction and allowed the tip of her tongue to touch her top lip. The lasciviousness of the gesture was not lost on me and I gave an almost inaudible groan.



‘Kay’ had a laugh that matched her fuller figure and she now gave vent to it.



“Someone’s eager!”



I switched my gaze back to ‘Emm’. She was not wearing a bra beneath her sweat top and her breasts were less modest than I had imagined. In the cool air her nipples immediately began to engorge and they somehow seemed too adult for someone of such tender years but as she removed her jeans and panties my initial view of her was revived as I noted her boyish hips which seemed in keeping with her coy sex.

“Shift up”



Now completely naked she squeezed herself in between Jay and Kay and I was astonished at just how comfortable they seemed with the bizarre circumstances in which we found ourselves.



I stood frozen to the spot and Emm looked at me as if I were mentally deficient.



“Are you just going to stand there?”



At this Jay put her hand on her friends bare leg.



“I hope you don’t think you’re going first.”



Emm looked at her imploringly.



“Pleeease! That greedy bitch came before I even had a chance to. She just snuffled like an animal while she played with herself.”



Even knowing what I did I was shocked but the other two seemed amused by Emm’s report. She looked at me as she slowly parted her legs.



“I know you’re not going to disappoint me.”



Even now I was not convinced that I wanted to go through with it but there was something about her brazen composure that closed a switch somewhere deep inside. I settled on my knees with my eyes locked on her sex.



From this intimate vantage point I could see that she was not perfectly shaved. The odd dark thorn stood out against her pale skin and a hint of redness suggested that she had been hurried.



The mound itself was shallow as if it was not fully formed and her inner lips gave the impression that they were hiding but that only reinforced my perverse desire.



As I drew nearer I could smell perfume on her thighs but I knew it was not hers. It was an expensive, musky, scent and I realized that it must have belonged to the woman at the bar. I was jolted by the thought that she had worshipped at this particular shrine less than an hour before but I could not turn away.



Closer still I picked up her natural scent and I was excited by this expression of her need. I was tempted to rush, to plunge my tongue deep inside, but I did not want her to think of me in the same way as her previous client.



I did not know this girl and, on some level, I disapproved of what she was doing but the irrational yearning to please her was overwhelming me. I closed my eyes and licked with as much control as I could muster.



That first taste excited the tip of my tongue and I wanted to lick more broadly to stimulate the whole palate. Instead, I played my tongue inside my mouth teasing myself with a hint of what was to come.



I was aware that they were talking amongst themselves, occasionally laughing, but I was lost in my own personal nirvana as I licked slowly and rhythmically. What I was doing was servile but it was also incredibly soothing.



I had no cares, no worries, I simply needed her ever increasing heat and wetness to assure me that I was performing well and with that knowledge came a feeling of arousal that invigorated my whole body.



For a few seconds I imagined myself naked with these three girls licking and teasing me, taking it in turns to find their place between my legs. The mere thought was almost enough to take me to the edge and my hand crept beneath my skirt.



“Wait!”



I was wrenched back to reality as Emm sat up and pulled away from me. She looked around the room and nudged Kay.



“Fetch those.”



Kay seemed reluctant to move but she stirred herself and collected a pair of pantyhose from the clothes airer set up in the kitchen. She handed them to Emm who looked down at me.



“Put your hands behind your back”



My fingers were poised beneath the waistband of my panties and I removed them like a guilty schoolgirl. I obediently did as I was told even though it ran contrary to every natural instinct.



Kay bound my hands loosely but efficiently and another psychological marker was set down. These young girls understood that in being unable to touch myself my only means of stimulation was with the use of my tongue.



Emm settled deeper onto the sofa in a clear signal that I was to take up where I had left off. The brief hiatus had been enough to take her off the boil and she relaxed to allow me to start over again.



I licked at the fringes of her labia but now indulged myself by slipping my tongue within from time to time. Each incursion found her wetter than before and her taste flooded my mouth. I have never taken drugs but I imagined that the experience must be something akin to what I was feeling.



My senses were heightened, particularly taste and smell, and I had the tantalizing sensation that I might be able to achieve a climax without even touching myself.



My world had shrunk to the boundaries of that warm delta and their conversation seemed to come from an altogether different place.



“Is she good?”



“I think she’s new to it…but with a lot more practise.”



“Are you going to be much longer? I’m leaking here and I need some attention.”



This admonition must have pricked Emm’s conscience as she put a hand to the back of my head and steered me towards her clitoris.



I licked at the apex to her sex but I could barely feel it beneath my tongue. With the very tip I could discern a tiny hooded pearl but her reaction confirmed that I had found my objective.



It’s discrete nature was no barrier to the level of sensation. Her body stiffened as she held herself at the summit for as long as she could before she surrendered to a flood of release.



She folded herself over me whilst she held me in place and I could feel every contraction as she groaned with relief.



When she finally let me go I was hot and uncomfortable but I felt energised in a way that was new to me. There was an insistent, throbbing, pulse between my legs and I jarred my wrists as I attempted to do something about it.



Jay laughed as she watched me struggle and it was as a second or two before I noticed that she was now completely undressed.



I was immediately taken by her breasts. They were beautifully rounded with nipples almost too good to be true. They were perfect circles drawn in dusky pink with teats in proportion and I could almost feel them in my mouth.



She was aware of my gaze and humoured me for a moment but then she took me aback as she unfolded her leg and hooked it over the padded arm of the sofa. Her sex was blatantly displayed and it had a feral quality that Emm’s did not.



Her pubis was shaved save for a single, thin, centre line which gave the impression that the divide was longer than it was in reality and I wondered if she deliberately strove for this effect.



Positioned as she was the light caught her inner thighs and the sheen of moisture that glistened on her skin. With a single finger she beckoned me toward her and I shuffled into position heedless of the ache already afflicting my knees.



The smell, accentuated by the heat of her thighs, thickened the air and I breathed it deep into my lungs. I felt myself salivating and I traced a long line inside her leg with my tongue.



The taste was enriched by slight the saltiness of perspiration and it was tempting to seek out the well spring but I continued to minister to her thighs in an effort to prove to myself that I still retained a vestige of self-control.



She chuckled quietly and brought her finger to her sex. She gently broached the portal and then tracked her wet finger over her leg. Like a trained bitch I followed the trail with my tongue which added to their amusement.



Jay repeated the trick twice more but on the third occasion she added an imaginary arrowhead pointing directly to her sex.



Any suggestion that I was mistress of my own destiny was dispelled by this one simple action. I was hers to command and I moaned with delight as I encountered the youthful firmness of her sex.



Her labia were more pronounced than Emm’s and, as I licked, it was like gently squeezing a sponge. An ooze of moisture was released, bearing witness to her arousal, and I lapped it up as if it were nectar.



The taste was strong and I wondered if this was because she had had to wait her turn but there was no dilution even after I had been licking for some moments. I pushed my tongue inside and felt her playfully squeezing me before relaxing and inviting a deeper exploration.



I had never considered the length of my tongue but I managed to lodge it surprisingly far inside and it was as if we were fitted to one another. Her taste seemed to flow into my mouth and I swallowed noisily to keep up with her offering.



At some point she changed her position sliding both legs over my shoulders and then crossing her ankles to hold me fast. Breathing became more difficult but it was a small price to pay for incredible feeling of well-being which suffused me.



They continued to converse but it was a distant murmur as her thighs closed about my ears and my mouth and nose were lost in her heated oasis.



Some while later an increased pressure and a fresh welling of moisture heralded her climax but she made no moves to free me. She relented just enough to allow me to clean her up and then, without breaking her conversation, she tightened her hold once again demanding that I please her for a second time.



It took a long time to satisfy her but I felt pleasantly removed from myself. I was perspiring in a very unladylike manner and my body ached but I did not want to stop. When, finally, she came for a second time the chill on my face as she released me from her thighs was doubly unwelcome.



It took a few seconds to recognize just how exhausted I was and I felt a pang of guilt knowing that ‘Kay’ was going to be disappointed before I remembered, with a start, that it was me paying for the privilege.



“Untie me.”



My tongue was a little swollen and my voice sounded strange to my own ears. Kay rose from the sofa but, rather than untying my hands, she stood in front of me and slipped her nightshirt over her head.



She cut an imposing figure. She was only an inch or two taller than me but it appeared more. Her heavy breasts were fully rounded with the sort of large brown nipples that I associated with motherhood.



The impression of fecundity was bolstered by the swell of her belly and the full dark growth that dressed her pubis. There was something almost frightening about her but, at the same time, I felt a resurgence of the needy ache between my legs.



Just then, all I wanted was to be at home in the privacy of my own bedroom so that I could do something about it but Kay had other ideas.



“Don’t think you’re finished yet.”



She put her hand squarely on my chest and pushed. With my hands tied behind my back it was enough to set me teetering onto the thick rag rug in the centre of the room. I felt myself falling off balance and managed to adjust but it I still came to earth with a bump.



I was still recovering from the shock of it as she loomed over me and, with a litheness that her body belied, she knelt to straddle my chest.



I felt helpless and immediately began to panic. I tried to bring my knee up into her back but she simply laughed. The other two recognizing the danger of their fun being spoiled dropped to the floor and sat astride my legs immobilizing me completely.



Kay slid forward to pin my shoulders with knees and her weight bore down remorselessly on my rib cage. I had to heave for breath leaving none for complaint.



Having clearly got her message across she slowly moved further forward eclipsing the light and closing me in with the finality of a coffin lid.



In the oppressive darkness the temperature rose within seconds but I could not turn my face away from the furred wetness that now engulfed me. I could feel the latent power of her ample thighs, themselves adding heat, and I was all too aware that, if she choose to fully relax, breathing might become impossible.



Her feminine stench filled what tiny space there was and even now, in spite of everything, I found it intoxicating. I knew that, rationally, I should rebel against this indignation but my tongue was already betraying me.



As I licked blindly her sex felt amorphous but as I pressed deeper things became more clearly defined. Her labia were heavy folds that seemed to cling to my tongue but she was surprisingly tight or perhaps it was simply that I lacked the strength.



She began to work herself over my face, encouraging me to try harder, and finally I was able to press to the limit. I felt, rather than heard, her groan with delight and she was happy to remain still enjoying the sensation of having me rooted deep inside.



She was leaking, her taste coating my tongue before dripping to the back of my throat. The combined elements of heat, constriction, savour and smell were becoming indelibly impressed in my mind and I felt that, in some disquieting way, my fate was being sealed.



After a few moments I was becoming light-headed and I knew that I had to do something. I began to flex my tongue inside her and she wriggled appreciatively but she showed no signs of reaching a climax.



Growing more desperate I withdrew my tongue and attempted to engage with her clitoris but, wilfully or otherwise, she misread my intentions and she began to smear herself over my face. I had no option other than to endure as she threatened to abrade my skin.



Faint laughter greeted my obvious distress but finally Kay positioned herself so that I could achieve my goal. Her clitoris was free of its cloak and felt incredibly engorged. I lapped at it with the flat of my tongue with almost immediate results.



Her body began to quake. It was almost imperceptible at first but as her ever increasing arousal took hold the shivering of her ample body shook my head from side to side. It was difficult to keep focus but I knew I had to as I feared the consequences if she lost control.



Fortunately, like Emm, she tried to hold on the sensations before she totally let go and so she remained poised over me allowing me to minister to her with rapid flicks of my tongue.



When the moment came she did bear down on me but she put a hand to the floor to support some of her own weight. Her orgasm ebbed and flowed and each time I thought it was over she managed to squeeze out yet another ripple of pleasure.



I was not aware of just how wet my face had become until she finally deigned to lift herself whereupon I squinted in the bright light and felt syrupy runnels on my cheeks and my chin.



I was totally exhausted and wanted nothing more than a hot shower but, as Kay reluctantly removed herself altogether, Emm scooted forward to take her place.



“We may as well let her have her money’s worth…”



Chapter 4



When I eventually reached home my clothes were so soiled that I put them out into the rubbish. It was my intention to jump straight in the shower but, now that I was naked, I was more aware than ever of their co-mingled scent still tainting my skin.



I felt like a slut as I brought myself to orgasm on the bathroom floor whilst I cupped my hand over my face and breathed deeply.



I lost track of the number of times I made myself come but I awoke the next morning aching all over and feeling as if I had hardly slept.



I logged on to my laptop to check my diary in the hope that I could bail out of any appointments and simply go back to sleep but I saw, with dismay, that I had a lunch booked with Geraldine. I phoned Melanie and told her I would not be in and then tried to grab another couple of hours.



By mid-morning I felt much improved. A long bath and an emergency trip to the hairdresser made me feel better still. I was also tempted to buy a new outfit but I was running out of time. Unfortunately my rivalry with Geraldine extended beyond our business interests and I was determined not to be outdone in the clothing stakes.



We met at the restaurant and she looked as radiant as ever. We had been firm friends since meeting at University but both of us were more competitive than was good for us. It was the influence of a particularly inspiring tutor that determined that we both ended up in the same line of business and I am sure that neither of us would have been successful as we had become were it not for spurring on one another.



I enjoyed our meals together with the friendly sparring but, in truth, we co-operated with one another as far as possible to ensure our position in an increasingly male dominated industry.



We skipped dessert and over coffee Geraldine made her announcement.



“My recruit’s ready to take to the road. How’s yours?”



Such was my degree of preoccupation that I had forgotten our wager and the likelihood that subject might be raised. As soon as she said it I was reminded of Jade and, for some reason, that train of thought routed me to the events of the previous evening.



I felt myself my face flush and Geraldine smiled as she touched my hand.



“I do believe you’re blushing. Have you backed the wrong horse?”



“No…of course not…we’re ready.”



I hoped that I sounded more confident than I felt. I was now certain that Geraldine had devoted far more time and effort to it than I had and I quietly cursed the day the bet was struck.



We had both been invited to a Downing Street reception for the launch of the Prime Minister’s ‘Enterprising Women’ initiative. The government was promoting a scheme to get more women onto the boards of companies and particularly those in the manufacturing sector where there was woeful underrepresentation.



One of the policy gurus propounded that a lot of bright young girls were giving up on themselves in their school years and that it needed successful business women to go into schools to show what could be achieved.



It was the Prime Minister himself who joked that we could act as ‘foster parents’ to some of these lost cases and turn them around.



To be honest I did not have a great deal of faith in the idea but I knew, as Geraldine did, that his patronage was worth a great deal. From there the idea snowballed. Geraldine and I were sent a list of potential candidates from which we were to choose just one. It was Geraldine who proposed the bet to add a bit of fun to the proceedings.



The aim was to see which of our candidates could rack up the largest amount of billings in the first month of full employment. At the outset I had been keen enough to do some background checking on Jade, and I was mildly intrigued by the nature versus nurture argument, but there was no doubt that my enthusiasm had waned.



I tried to look confident as we got up from the table having agreed that the billing period would start at the beginning of the following week.



That same afternoon I went through the client list looking for those with the steadiest stream of billings. I seriously doubted Jade’s ability to immediately drum up any new trade and so I needed to put her in a position where she could simply bill for repeat business without doing any harm. It was probably not in the spirit of the original wager but it seemed the simplest solution.



When I had finished I checked in with Melanie and asked her to invite Jade to join me at my meeting the next morning.



To her credit she turned up in very good time, looking every inch the young professional, and she listened intently as I explained the background. This was my third meeting with Sharon Teal and I hoped to finally convince her to jump ship and bring her business over to us.



After showing her around the building I led her up to my office and Jade dutifully poured coffee for the three of us. As I instructed she sat off to one side, occupying the couch, and took notes as I tried to get Teal’s commitment.



We sat at the small meeting table and mulled over some prospective numbers but I had the sense that she was far more used to dealing with men. I guessed that she was about my age but the firmness of her facial features suggested some chemical assistance.



She had average looks but she had nicely styled dark hair and her make-up was well thought through. I could imagine her using her feminine charms to get what she wanted much as I did when it served my purposes. She was wearing expensive, well cut, clothes which disguised the fact that she was carrying an extra pound or two but I was willing to bet that she could still look good in a bikini.

She wore an eternity ring in addition to her wedding band and so I assumed that she had been married for some time. That usually worked to my advantage as, in my experience, married women were not as single-minded in the business arena.



I finally pitched the number that I had in mind but, to my total astonishment, Jade piped up from the side of the room.



“I think we ought to consider double that.”



I was totally dumbstruck and it was a second or two before I noticed that her skirt had ridden a long way up her legs. She was wearing stay ups and the dark welts were clearly visible.



She rose from the couch and came to the table.



“Your share price has fallen steadily over the past six months and my guess is that you need us more than we need you.”



I wanted to strangle her! I was aware of the share price, for which there were a number of explanations, and Jade’s remark was not just impetuous it was impudent. I was about to close her down when Teal spoke.



“You’re over reaching just a little don’t you think.”



Jade appeared unfazed and met Teal’s gaze unwaveringly.



“Perhaps…but then why would you lie about there being no other offers on the table at present?”



I saw, immediately, that Jade was correct. Teal flinched, just enough to give herself away. I had boldly asked her outright about any other prospective offers and she had answered no. My first thought now was that she wanted to obtain my offer simply to use as a bargaining chip.



There was no harm done but I thought that we had developed a greater trust. I was wondering how to turn this revelation to my advantage when Jade spoke again.



“People give off subtle signs when they’re not telling the truth. You tend to look away from the person you’re speaking to. I noticed that you seemed to find my legs particularly fascinating.”



I saw Teal tense and I wondered what the hell was going on. She looked more on edge than I felt and we both stared at Jade as if she were some kind of soothsayer. She turned her back on Teal and smiled at me.



“This was never about business. She finds you fascinating. You might not appreciate it but there is something about you that is very attractive to other women.”



She was being totally outlandish and I had to remind myself that this was actually a client meeting but at the same time I was irrationally intrigued. She walked behind Teal and then my heart almost stopped.



Without missing a beat she reached over Teals shoulder and slipped her hand into the opening of her blouse to cup her breast.



Her victim sat there wide eyed, as disbelieving as I was. I waited long seconds expecting her to react explosively to this assault upon her person but she remained frozen in place as if hypnotized.



Jade’s eyes held mine as her fingers gently flexed causing Teal to breathe a little more quickly.



“All the time you were talking business our friend here was wondering about the colour of my underwear…”



Teal’s eyes widened fractionally and her face flushed but she still made no attempt to move. Jade laughed softly knowing that she had both of us enmeshed.



“….but what she would really like to know is the colour of yours.”



I tried to keep the shock from my face not altogether successfully. Jade set her head slightly to one side as if pondering.



“I’m guessing black…something a little daring.”



The girl was a witch. I was wearing a dark business suit over a navy blouse and there was no way she could have caught sight of me but she was uncannily accurate. I was wearing black and my panties were very sheer. There was something about my meetings with Geraldine that encouraged me not to dress to type and I usually kept it up for a day or two afterwards.



For a second or two I was embarrassingly aware of my immodest panties and I felt my labia stir. At the same time my nostrils flared very slightly and I had to tell myself not to be stupid. The redolent smell in the room was still wax polish.



Jade had paused but now continued as if everything she said was perfectly natural.



“Why don’t you show us? You would make her very happy. It might even make her come.”



I felt disembodied, as though it was no longer me in the room. I seemed to be looking down on myself as I eased the chair back from the table and reached for the hem of my skirt. I began to raise it inch by inch watching Teal’s mouth slowly opening in shock.



My bare legs were still slightly tanned from my break in Sitges and I let my fingertips brush against the smoothness of my upper thighs. I was wantonly arousing myself but Teal’s face was a picture as she swallowed hard and stifled a low moan.



With teasing deliberation I began to part my legs until my panties were lewdly on show and Jade spoke with genuine feeling.



“That is so beautiful.”



Her words stirred me and I could feel my sex pulsing as a prelude to deliquescence. She slowly removed her hand from Teals blouse and whispered.



“Go to her…”



I could see that Teal was being assailed by the same conflicting emotions that I was and, like me, she was overwhelmed by a temporary insanity. She slipped from her chair to her knees and eased between my opened legs.



As she pressed her face to my panties the warmth of her breath was deliciously arousing and as she brushed softly with her nose my constricted labia felt impossibly sensitized. For a moment or two she was content simply to nuzzle me but I wanted more.



I put my hand to the back of her head and applied a gentle, but insistent, pressure until I was rewarded with the first hesitant flick of her tongue. There was something wickedly sordid about having her lick me through my panties but the sensation was incredible.



My sex was held closed but I could feel myself leaking and, as I looked down on her, I could see her taking up the creamy ooze as it seeped through.



Any final hesitation was vanquished as she licked with the same unseemly relish that I had evinced that very first time. Her eyes were closed but I could tell that there was no way back for her. She had tasted the forbidden fruit and was already on the road to addiction.



That thought was discomforting for, even now, I believed that my salvation was in my own hands but to what extent was I deluding myself? I chose that moment to look up at Jade who was watching with quiet amusement.



I was on the verge of regaining control, ready to make Teal stop, but Jade prised my fingertips from the edge of sanity. She lifted her skirt to reveal white underwear sodden with arousal and then slipped her fingers inside.



That single image sent a thrill of excitement through my whole body and I surrendered to Teals enthusiastic tongue. She licked frantically whilst groaning in appreciation and I felt the guilty pleasure of coming in my panties.



My orgasm was intense but I was not entirely sated. Teal began to slip away but I told her to stay exactly where she was. I lifted myself and quickly dispensed with my ruined panties before retaking my seat.



My sex was flushed, it’s covering damp and matted, and Teal no longer looked quite so enthusiastic but I gave her no time to think about it. I roughly pulled her back into place desperate to feel her mouth against my bare flesh.



She remained hesitant at first but then she began to explore in a way that had been denied to her to begin with.



I held my breath as I felt the first sinuous intrusion of her tongue. She worked to part my lips with an endearing inexperience but, having found her way, she then slid greedily inside. She moaned as she encountered the wetness within and I felt the flexing of her tongue as she enjoyed the taste to the full.



As she continued to probe I could feel my climax beginning to build once more. My nipples were achingly firm and I yearned to give them some attention but I was now using both hands to guide her mouth.



She was quickly learning how to arouse me but I could feel the pulse of my excited clitoris and I was a little forceful as I tugged her head upwards. For a second or two I regretted my decision as her tongue withdrew from within but then I shivered as she reapplied herself to the apex of my sex.



To begin with her touch was uncertain but she slowly familiarized herself and then began to draw teasing circles with the very tip of her tongue. Driven by some innate feminine instinct she was reading me better than any man. My body was drawn taut as a bowstring and I was frighteningly aware of the frantic beating of my heart.



I could feel perspiration sheening my body and I continued to hold her close as I uttered imprecations under my breath and urged her to greater effort.



The end, when it came, left me gasping for breath as I strained every sinew to hold my place on a previously unattained plateau of pleasure. It was some time before I was completely compos mentis and I only slowly became aware of the heated scent of my arousal and the soothing sensation of Teal softly sucking at my relaxed sex.



In those ensuing moments I was shocked by the realization that, whilst drained, I was still greedy for more but Jade now beckoned from the couch.



“Which of you two ladies is going to come and finish me off?”



Chapter 5



Some last remnant of sanity prevailed and I held myself in check as I watched Teal crawl to meet her fate. Over the next two days I anguished knowing that the only rational thing to do was to fire Jade; I had made the great mistake of allowing my personal desires to cloud my professional judgement.



Her short term of employment meant that she was not entitled to a severance package but, nevertheless, I felt I owed her something and so I organized a one off ex gratia payment. I called in my accounts manager to hand over the authority, with the request that it be kept confidential, but he diverted me with a new billings form.



When I looked at it my mouth opened in shock. Teal had contracted with us for twice the figure I had proposed on a rolling twelve month basis. I scanned to the bottom of the document and a second surprise awaited. Jade was named at the client manager.



“Is this correct?”



For a new account of this size I would normally have appointed one of two senior managers to act as client liaison.



“It was at Teal’s insistence.”



I looked at the form and came very close to tearing it in two. Teal’s was a perfect fit with my company but the unwritten sub-text was extremely disquieting.



I could afford to lose Teal’s business but I was reluctant to do so. In the end I found an unsatisfactory compromise. The profits from the contract were several times Jade’s salary and so I could rationalize setting her up to deal with just the single portfolio and keep her away from anything else.



It was not a full time position by any stretch of the imagination and so there was also the prospect that she would grow bored and leave of her own volition.



It was going to take a while to come on stream and so, in the meanwhile, I followed up on my original plan to have her man the phones and drum up repeat business. Over the following weeks I checked up on her figures and was relieved to find that, whilst they were better than average, they were nothing out of the ordinary. I was even smug enough to contemplate winning my bet with Geraldine.



The earthquake came when I took a call from the trade press. The question was simple and direct. Had we signed Levensons?



It was late in the day but I managed to raise my accounts manager, He confirmed that Levensons had placed an order based on ‘the agreed terms’ but he had yet to see a billings form.



I was furious. At the monthly meetings with the two senior accounts managers we always discuss prospects that might be poached but when Andrea put up Levensons for discussion I slapped her down.



Levensons was one of Geraldine’s core clients and we had an unspoken agreement that some accounts were sacrosanct. In truth, it was a form of cartel arrangement but we both recognized that we needed a degree of mutual co-operation in a male dominated, dog eat dog, industry.



There was nothing more I could do before the morning and so I left for home in a mood of angry frustration. I forced down some food with a couple of glasses of much needed red wine when my mobile phone rang.



In a day of shocks this was a further jolt. The caller was Ben Kaye another of Geraldine’s clients. He thanked me for my e-mail and said he would be interested in meeting up. I had not sent an e-mail and I desperately wanted to ask for more details but I did not want to appear uninformed.



The situation was further complicated because I had always assumed that his business relationship with Geraldine was cemented on more than just commercial considerations. I told him that I would have my secretary speak to his and ended the call.



It was late but I made myself some strong coffee and headed back to the office to try and get to the root of it.



My immediate assumption was that Andrea was becoming over ambitious and had exceeded her authority and so I headed for her office to check her files. As I approached I was surprised to see her desk lamp illuminated as she was at the forefront of our green campaign to cut down on electrical usage.



As I drew closer I froze as I heard a distinct whimper. It was not unknown for staff to be working this late at year end but we were in our slower third quarter and I encouraged everyone to moderate their hours and achieve a good work life balance.



I approached slowly and cautiously but as I reached the open doorway I had to suppress a gasp. The naked body sprawled across the meeting table was obviously female as evidenced by the outstretched ankles which were sellotaped to the chromed steel legs.



The wave of long blonde hair had me convinced it was Andrea but, unclothed, she was much slimmer than I would have imagined. Her head moved as she heard me but I could now see that she was both blindfolded and gagged.



My immediate thought was that she had been overcome by someone intending to rob the office but why such elaborate restraint? Her wrists, too, were sellotaped to the table’s front legs bending her over and making her completely helpless.



I checked her desk for a pair of scissors but then I heard the sound of the toilet door opening across the corridor. Panicked, I desperately looked for somewhere to conceal myself and took the only immediate option which was underneath the desk itself.



It had a modesty board but it did not offer complete concealment as it had a six inch gap at both top and bottom. Fortunately, the desk lamp had been turned around to illuminate the table casting the desk into shadow.



Peering through the gap I took a sharp intake of breath as I watched Jade enter the room. I started to break cover to demand to know what was going on but as Jade spoke I held myself in check.



“Now, where were we? Ah, yes, I remember…”



She approached the desk and, for a moment, her legs were within touching distance through the gap. When she walked away again I saw that she had picked up the eighteen inch ruler that Andrea habitually used when proof reading contracts.



I now understood exactly what she intended to do. My natural impulse was to bring these bizarre proceedings to an abrupt halt but I remained awkwardly crouched with my heart still beating fast.



Jade slapped the weighty length of plastic against her own hand and my body mimicked Andrea’s as she visibly flinched. My eyes were drawn to the smooth curves of her taut backside and for reasons that I could not explain her vulnerability sent a thrill of excitement through my body.



As if reading my mind Jade traced the contour with the flat of the ruler as she spoke again.



“Six…to begin with.”



She raised the ruler to a height of twelve inches and then, with a practised snap of the wrist, she brought it down.



Andrea squealed as the sharp slap reverberated from the walls creating a sympathetic vibration that seemed centred on my sex.



I could see Jade smiling as she changed her position and prepared to strike again and I found myself tensed in anticipation. It must have taken at least five minutes, although it seemed a lot longer, for her to deliver all six but at the finish I was horribly conscious of the state of my panties.



There had been no pattern to the strokes and Andrea cried out as each one tortured her flesh. Even with the subdued lighting I could see the glow of her heated skin which was mirrored by the increased temperature of my sex.



Had anyone told me that watching someone else’s anguish in this way would affect me as it did I would have called them insane but I had to fight back a groan as Jade checked with her fingertips the damage she had caused.



“No great harm done…I think you can take a little more…perhaps a little harder this time.”



Andrea squirmed to the extent that she could and made a muted entreaty but Jade simply laughed and waited until her victim had exhausted herself.



She raised the ruler higher this time and struck with noticeably more venom but before the point of impact my fingers were already at work.



Jade had not specified a number which only made my own torment even more exquisite. Andrea was screaming louder with each drawn lash of the ruler stoking the flames of my inevitable orgasm but I did not want to finish before the last stroke had been delivered.



She reached six and I was willing her to continue giving a muted sob as she delivered a seventh and then an eighth. I was hating myself as I was spurred myself on but then, in an eye opening moment, I saw that Andrea was not crying out in pain but as a harbinger of her own climax.



As Jade delivered a series of strokes in quick succession Andrea’s spine became rigid before her whole body shook uncontrollably. She gave a long suffocated wail which helped to cover my own suppressed cries.



Jade waited for the final tremors to abate and then began to remove the gag. I saw now that her face was bound with pantyhose but I then watched in disbelief as she deftly removed a wadded pair of white panties from inside her mouth.



Any doubts as to whom they belonged were dispelled as Jade unfastened her skirt and casually let it fall to the floor. She then turned to Andrea’s office chair and retrieved the cushion that she used for lumber support before placing it on the table.



With a gymnast’s agility she mounted the table and made herself comfortable on the cushion before easing herself forward. Andrea uttered a groan of greedy desire causing Jade to take hold of her hair.



“Take your time…you’ve had your pleasure now concentrate on mine.”



Andrea looked extremely uncomfortable but Jade was not to be hurried. My own body was cramping badly by the time, half an hour later, she melted into a second leisurely orgasm.



She did not remove Andrea’s blindfold throughout and she left it in place as she leisurely got herself dressed and put a brush through her hair. As a parting gesture she pushed the cushion under Andrea’s chin.



“Sorry, it’s wet, but it will give you something to remember me by.”



I stopped breathing as she approached the desk once more but she quickly found what she was looking for. She used a pair of scissors to free one of Andrea’s wrists and then simply walked out leaving her to it.



Andrea groaned in discomfort as she cut herself free and she had difficulty in standing upright. She still had sellotape stuck to her skin and she left the room heading for the toilets.



As soon as I heard the door I extricated myself and quickly tried to work some life back into my cramped legs before I dashed from the office.



Chapter 6



That night I hardly slept. Andrea had been with me for a long time and it now seemed clear that Jade was using her to generate leads but I did not know how I was going to deal with it without revealing what I had witnessed.

The following morning I bit the bullet and asked Andrea to come in and see me. She still looked stiff, as if she was recovering from a particularly strenuous workout, and she took her seat very gingerly.



I was tempted to quiz her on her infirmity, just to see how she would reply, but I spared her the embarrassment.



“Levensons have placed an order with us.”



She looked as surprised as I was on hearing the news.



“But that’s good isn’t it…?”



It took a few seconds for her thought process to lead her.



“…You don’t think it was anything to do with me.”



“I don’t think you would be as crass as to pursue it after I made myself clear but have you mentioned it to anyone else?”



She looked genuinely affronted.



“Of course not. You ask us to speak our minds during the brain storming sessions. I got the message loud and clear.”



“You’re sure about this? You haven’t let it slip in conversation with anyone?



“No. Of course I haven’t”



If she was lying she was making a damn fine job of it. I tried another tack.



“You’ve looked after Jade for a couple of the induction sessions. Is there a chance she picked up on it.”



The mention of Jade’s name jolted her but she quickly regained her composure.



“Absolutely not. I was showing her the mechanics. There was no mention of particular clients.”



I somehow believed her and let her take her leave. When I saw a copy of the Levinsons order later in the day there were no contact details but I noted that they had not even signed up on introductory terms. They had been quoted, and accepted, the less generous standard terms.



I put a call through to my IT systems geek and asked him to check out the e-mail to Ben Kaye. He came back minutes later to tell me that it had gone out from one of the hot desks using our generic e-mail address.



When I read the text I became even angrier. It could easily have been interpreted as having originated with me but it was very cleverly constructed to suggest that we knew what he was already paying and that we could “audit his costs”.



I saw Jade’s hand at work and there was an element of grudging admiration. She was even sharper than she appeared.



The problem was that I still had no definitive proof and, worse still, I did not know where she was sourcing her leads. I rang through and asked Melanie to step in.



“Has anyone outside the marketing team asked to see the minutes of the meetings recently?”



At that fateful moment I saw her normally happy countenance slip and I realized, with a sense of dread, that Jade was invading the company like a virus. As she stood there in guilty silence a single tear broke from her eye and I stood up and offered her a tissue.



“I am so sorry.”



I could not be angry with her knowing that, to some extent, I too had been infected. She began to sob and, without thought, I put an arm around her shoulder.



“I didn’t mean to let you down.”



She held on tightly to me with her head against my chest and I felt the wetness of her tears as her body shook pitifully. I gently stroked her hair and shushed her as she raised her face to mine.



She looked frightened as her eyes flitted across mine seeking reassurance. I could not say what made me do it but I kissed her gently on the forehead. She nestled her head again but she was now visibly calmer.



We remained like that for a few seconds but I was conscious of the need to find out from her exactly what had transpired. I gently eased her away but her eyes locked with mine once more. Her expression was unreadable but there was something deeply searching.



I was unsure what to say but I was forestalled as she brought her lips to mine. It was the merest touch but it conveyed so much more than words. Now it was my turn to evince anxiety but she was emboldened.



I felt the tip of her tongue moistening my lips and then our mouths were joined. I could taste the slight sweetness of her lipstick and there was a hint of coffee on her breath but my overall impression was one of infinite softness.



She kissed more gently than any man, sealing our mouths as one whilst her tongue traced the shape of my lips.



My mind was in turmoil but it was counterpointed, and soothed, by her languid touch. I surrendered to her as she slowly opened her mouth, enticing me to mirror her, and then her tongue touched mine.



It was not an invasion but a courtship; her tongue fluttered as she awaited my invitation. In the past few days I had done things which had terrified me, as much as they had excited, but nothing more so than this.



There was a tenderness here reserved for lovers and I was completely taken off guard; my mind seemed to float free as I yielded to her allowing her to caress my tongue with hers.



Until that moment in time I had never understood the attraction of a prolonged kiss but this was something beyond my experience. We were engaged in a beautiful oral dance with Melanie effortlessly taking the lead and, like the movements of a dance, it hinted at something more.



I had so many questions that I wanted to ask but in the turmoil of intimacy I could not frame a coherent thought. I finally willed myself to break our embrace and I looked at her anew.



She was a beautiful young woman and, in a distant echo of my mother, I knew that she had done some catalogue modelling to help fund her way through university. Her dark hair was lightened by the sun and contrasted with the intense brown of her eyes. Her cute nose and upper cheeks were dusted with freckles and her sensuous mouth had taken on a new significance.



Her toned physique put me in mind of a tennis player but she preserved her lovely feminine curves. She had often spoken of getting her breasts enhanced but I had told that she had no need; she was modestly endowed but she was beautifully shaped.



The silence between us was awkward but there was a determination about her now as if a decision had been reached and she was happy to damn the consequences.



As her hand reached for the buttons of my blouse I brought up my own to hold her in check only for her to brush it away. She held my eyes as she worked each button in turn and then she slid the blouse from my shoulders.



My unease must have conveyed itself for, in an effort to restore the equilibrium, she took off her jumper and then slowly removed her bra.



Her breasts fulfilled their promise as her dark nipples responded to the change in temperature. I could see that she was happy with my approval and she stepped forward to kiss me lightly as her nimble fingers dispensed with my bra.



She had to move to let fall away to the floor but as she melded with me once more I could feel my own nipples responding as they brushed against hers.



I put my arms around her but I knew that, in part, I was trying to slow things down and make sense of it all. Unheedful of my concern she released the fastenings of my skirt and I pressed myself more closely to her to keep it in place.



Our movements became almost playful as she moved her hips and I tried to stay with her but slowly, inexorably, my skirt dropped to the floor.



It pooled inelegantly at my feet and I slipped off my shoes and stepped out of it. This left Melanie standing a little taller than me in her high heels and she immediately removed them to re-establish the slight difference in our height.



She held me close again as if to convince herself that it was real and then I felt her hands travelling slowly down my back. Her fingers slipped into the waistband of my panties and at the same time she began to kneel so that they were gradually pulled down my legs.



In some odd way I felt more comfortable completely naked than I had half undressed but I shivered as Melanie kissed my stomach almost reverentially. A second kiss, slightly lower, made me gasp as she reached up to test the weight of my breasts and then she whispered.



“You are so beautiful…”



There was something in the way she said it, a heartfelt sincerity that heated my blood and made me feel light headed.



She began to kiss my thighs with the slow deliberation of someone assured of the prize and I could feel my sex beginning to swell. It seemed an age before she reached my mons and the tender caress of her hands made me feel like a goddess.



The touch of her tongue against my pouting labia was so delicate that, at first, I barely felt it but with awareness came a sense of excitement heightened beyond measure. She paused for a moment and brushed the very fringes of my lips with the back of my finger.



“Exquisite….”



When I was younger I sometimes worried that men might find my sex off-putting but as I matured I laughed off my childish misgivings . I was what nature had made me and, to my mind, I represented the epitome of femininity.



Melanie trailed butterfly kisses from the base to the apex I could feel my sex weeping in welcome. She used the tip of her tongue to take up this offering and, as she caught my eye, her expression was one of unalloyed bliss.



That look triggered something deep inside, something much more than mere gratification. I had grown close to this young woman over the relatively short period of our acquaintance but it was now as if I were seeing her with my eyes fully open.



I held her shoulders and urged her to her feet seeing a flash of fear in her eyes. I embraced her reassuringly and, as we kissed again, I helped to remove the remainder of her clothes.



When she was naked I returned the compliment and knelt before her and I understood something of what she had felt. Her mound was almost arrogantly pronounced and split by a long well defined crease. The beautifully pink tips of her labia were revealed with a suggestive swelling at the crown.



I lingered for a moment and breathed the scent of her. Underlying the muskiness of her familiar perfume she exuded the tiniest hint of nervousness but most potent of all was the heady evidence of arousal.



A single kiss was enough to bring the taste of her to my lips, a definite tang which slowly mellowed enticing my tongue into play. I tried to lick her with the same skill that she had demonstrated but it took all of my self-control to stop from eating her whole.



Within moments she was leaking copiously and I broke away from time to time to lick up the glistening tracks of moisture from inside her thighs. I was lost in a closed world of sexual abandon and was only slowly aware that she was shaking.



When I looked up at her she had tears of unadulterated joy on her face and some instinct brought me to my feet to hold her close.



We remained that way for some time rocking together almost imperceptibly and then I took her hand and lead her to the sofa.



Still holding her I depressed the pedal which dropped the arms of the sofa converting it into a day bed and then I laid her down.



We spent a long time just kissing one another and becoming more familiar with one another’s bodies but then she slid from beneath me and turned herself around. Her hot breath reignited me and I almost swooned at the feel of her tongue but she slowly relaxed, letting me bear her weight, as she presented her sex to my mouth.



I felt as if my life had been leading me towards this moment. There was a beauty to the collocation of our bodies and the simultaneous taking and receiving of pleasure. It was a perfect circuit with our tongues the switches and rheostats controlling the flow of mutual gratification.



We took our time with Melanie telling me with her tongue what she enjoyed most and I did my best to emulate her. Sometimes she eased her sex away from me to concentrate fully on my pleasure and then she would settle more heavily on my face to allow me to return the compliment.



I loved the things she could do to me but perhaps even more I revelled in what I could do for her. Her thighs were slick with perspiration and arousal but with my hands on her perfect derrière I held her tight closing myself off from the world and drowning in the heat and scent of her.



With her guidance we were able to come together and it was if my orgasm was multiplied by being shared with hers. We both lay exhausted, our breathing harmonized, and it was long minutes before we stirred to life.



There were many implications, and ramifications, arising from what had just taken place but I felt totally at peace. The thrill of it brought another smile to my face and now it was my turn to adjust our positions. We remained in a comfortable soixante-neuf, but now with me on top, and then I settled my mouth to her sex determined to draw out our second orgasm for as long as I possibly could.



Chapter 7



The next morning I called Jade to the conference room.



“I think you know why I’ve asked for this meeting. I hoped that the parameters of your job were clear to you but you have overstepped the mark to a degree that is not in the best interests of the company.



She seemed completely unfazed.



“You don’t welcome the new business I brought in?”



“It is not just a matter of volumes there are other factors to consider. I genuinely admire your spirit but your methods leave a lot to be desired. I believe that it will be best for both of us if we part company.



There is a cheque in this envelope for severance pay, I think you’ll find I’ve been generous, and I will be happy to give you a reference.”



She took the envelope without opening it and smiled at me.



“Even more expensive for you after you’ve paid out on your bet.”



I looked at her dumbfounded but she simply turned on her heel and left the room.



Her comment preyed on my mind and I was anxious to get in touch with Geraldine to smooth out any misunderstandings but she was on her fortnight’s holiday and completely out of contact save for emergencies.



Notwithstanding, I sent her a text saying that I would catch up with her as soon as she got back.



With Jade now dealt with I turned my mind to Melanie. I had told her to take the day off but arranged to meet up with her for a drink after work with a view to sorting things out.



She was on my mind for most of the day and I was the first to arrive at the bar. When she walked in a few minutes later she looked perfectly relaxed and her simple white summer dress, with its scooped neck and high hem line caused a few heads to turn.



She caught me off guard by kissing me familiarly on the cheek and then took a seat opposite. I had already ordered a chilled Zinfandel blush and she poured herself a glass before reaching into her handbag.



She handed me an envelope which I looked at with evident confusion. She smiled as she started to explain.



“It’s my letter of resignation.”



Her words struck me much more deeply than I would have expected and I struggled to find my voice.



“You don’t have to do that. We can work something out.”



She touched my hand across the table as she continued.



“I would probably have resigned anyway. I want to do an MBA and I’ve had the offer of an induction course in Brussels with the European parliament. It’s four weeks and if I impress them I might be in line for a bursary to study at the LSE.”



As I digested this there was a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach and I spoke quickly.



“If it’s a question of money I can provide sponsorship through the company.”



“That’s a kind offer but I can’t work with you anymore.”



For a stupid instant I felt a tear forming in my eye. I picked up my glass and took a generous swig to cover my embarrassment.



She leaned closer her hand now covering mine.



“What happened between us, last night, it’s something I’ve dreamed of for a long time. I’ve had a crush on you almost from the day I started and my feelings have only grown deeper.



I wasn’t sure if you could ever reciprocate but now that it’s out in the open I want to give you some time and space to think about it.”



There was no doubting the import of what she was saying but my mind could not focus and my heart was beating wildly. My words when they came out were just half formed thoughts.



“But I thought you were…”



She filled in the blanks.



“Straight? I have a lot of male friends and it suited me to let you draw your own conclusions. I wasn’t sure about you, not until recently. I suspected that you didn’t know yourself and I didn’t want to encourage you in any way.”



“So what changed?”



“It was Jade. God knows how she figured it out but she threatened to reveal that I was in love with you. I didn’t want you to hear it like that. That’s why I agreed to leave her alone in the office with the latest minutes. I know, now, that it was a stupid thing to do.”



It was relief to hear that her dealings with Jade were not as sordid as I feared but I was shaken by her candid declaration. Neither of us said anything for a moment but then she drained her glass.



I could see that she was preparing to leave and I spoke quickly.



“What happens next?”



She smiled as she picked up her bag.



“You’ll promote Maggie to fill my job and then, hopefully, you’ll ask me out on a date.”



With that she left and then, for the first time in years, the company ceased to be the most important thing on my mind. For two or three days I struggled to concentrate as I tried to come to terms with the situation.



I had never seen myself as the marrying type and, as far as children went, they were fine as long as they were someone else’s. I enjoyed sex but there had never been an emotional commitment and I realized that it was only in the past few weeks that I was truly alive.



I felt like a hormonal teenager as I booked a restaurant and theatre tickets before picking up the phone to Melanie who simply said.



“What took you so long?”



We went out three times in quick succession whilst we spent long hours truly getting to know one another. Strangely, we did no more than hold hands and kiss but I found in this a contentment that I had not known for years. When she left for Brussels it was if we were being tested but, for my part, as I saw her off at the train station I felt a void inside that was almost physically painful.



I resigned myself to the four week separation and focused on the business once more.



Things were going well until a few days before Melanie’s scheduled return.



Andrea broke the news that we were losing Kappel, one of our biggest German accounts. She found out, on the grapevine, that Geraldine was getting the business and my immediate thought was that this was tit for tat for Levinson’s.



I had not wanted to explain the misunderstanding over the phone and so I left messages for Geraldine to get back to me when she had an evening free. That she had not called was not unusual, she consistently worked even longer days than I did, but now I feared that she had seen Levinsons as a declaration of war.



This was a situation that I was desperate to avoid and so, taking a chance, I left the office late and called at her apartment. She was a long time answering the doorbell and I was about to give it up when the door opened.



I had clearly caught her in the shower as she stood in a short flannel gown whilst still towelling her hair. She looked set to give her caller a piece of her mind but when she saw it was me her expression softened.



“Come on in.”



We made small talk, which consisted mainly of me listening to her holiday anecdotes, whilst she brewed coffee. When it was poured we sat together in the spacious living area and I broached the subject uppermost on my mind.



“The girl I took on was…over enthusiastic. She made some calls that I did not authorise and I think some damage was done.”



“You did better than me. Mine turned out to be a total dunce. I had to let her go which means that you win the bet but I get the prize.”



I looked at her uncomprehendingly and then something clicked.



“She came to you for a job didn’t she?”



“She certainly has chutzpah and she seems to have Levensons round her finger. They gave her an informal reference.”

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