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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Freebie - 4
by Lord John Thomas (lord_john_thomas@hotmail.com)
***
The final part of how my efforts to keep my man out of
jail led to my life of prostitution. (MMF, wife, nc,
prost)
***
All of my stories include descriptions of sex scenes
that could cause offence to some people. Please do not
read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual
material, or if you are under the legal age of consent
for your own country. These stories are pure fiction
and are not based on anyone living or deceased.
As this is now part four of my tale, I'm assuming
you've read parts one to three, so you know how I got
into the situation I find myself in at the moment.
I dreamt that night, and I'm sure you won't be
surprised if I tell you Trav featured very strongly in
my dreams. It wasn't, however, a dream of sex and lust,
but more a romantic journey with him at my side,
protecting and guiding me through some magical garden.
The details are long since faded from my memory, and
even at the time I first recalled them the next
morning, didn't actually make sense. But I know I
thought a lot about Trav in those next few days.
But back to reality, and the true reality on the next
morning was answering the phone to Graham at around ten
in the morning, Gerry was still in bed.
"4, 3, 6, 5, 8, 7."
"Hello, its Graham. I'm just ringing to find out how
last night went."
Just hearing his voice sent a shiver of rage down my
spine, but I tried to be polite even if I didn't want
to talk to him.
"Oh, it was nice thank you. And thank you for letting
us borrow your car and driver."
"That's alright my dear. You know I'd do anything for
you. A little dickybird tells me you also did well at
the dancing?"
"Yes. I won the first prize."
"So my dear, I wonder if I could ask you a favour?"
This I didn't want to hear, I knew he'd pretend it was
something innocent, and I'd end-up being in another
situation.
"I'm not sure. What is it you want?"
"Oh I see. You don't mind receiving favours, but you
don't like repaying them. In that case, I'll say
goodbye."
Even as I first heard the tone of his voice, I began to
feel ashamed of my reaction, but by the time he'd
finished speaking I felt so guilty, I just blurted out,
"No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. Just tell me
what it is you want."
Why oh why was I so stupid? I know this man plays mind
games, and I also know what his real intentions are. So
now my tummy knots up waiting to find out what he's
going to ask for.
"I'm not sure if I can ask you now. It seems people who
I thought were my friends are now letting me down."
"I'm sorry. I just don't want to get involved with
anything like that club you took me to last time."
"It's not just you. Even my old friend Peter has sent
me some legal stuff; that note you made me sign, it
appears I'm now the one who is guilty of stealing my
own stuff. And all because I tried to help you and your
husband out of a hole; what gratitude? I guess in
future, I'll just let the guilty party suffer."
As I've just said, I know he plays mind games. But
games or not, he was having an effect on me, "I'm
sorry. I am really grateful. But that note was just to
make sure I didn't end up being a... you know, it
wasn't something I could keep doing."
"Yes, I guess it's easier to say you're grateful than
it is to do something to repay your debt."
"It's not like that. I thought with all those things I
did for you, I'd repaid you."
"Oh now I see. You think having five or ten minutes of
sexy romps is payment enough for what could have been
thirty plus years in jail. I'm sure if it had been you
faced with going to prison for thirty years, you'd put
a different value on things. But like I say, you don't
believe in honouring your debts, and you've got me over
a barrel legally, so I guess you can do what you want
and forget who helped you along the way."
"Please don't say that, tell me what you want me to
do?"
"It was something I'd hoped to do last night, but you
were otherwise engaged. There is a Japanese importer
over here..."
Just hearing the word Japanese sent shivers down my
spine, and before he'd finished his sentence, I
interrupted.
"Please stop."
"What? What's wrong, I haven't even told you what I
want."
"I know, but I don't like the sound of it."
"Sound of what, I haven't told you what I'm planning."
"It was the nationality of the man."
"What? You don't like Japanese men?"
"No. I know it's not the done thing these days, but
I've had a bad experience with a Japanese man, and I
couldn't do anything like that again."
"Well that's rich. Are you saying you've never had an
English man do something wrong?"
"Well no."
"But that hasn't put you off all English men. I can see
you've got a bit of a bigoted personality, to add to
your ungrateful nature. And there was I thinking you
were a nice generous and open minded girl. It's a good
job for you, they don't think that way about us.
Otherwise you wouldn't have any of those high tech
electrical things you take for granted. But I guess I'm
wasting my breath, you've got what you wanted from me,
and now I'm of no use, you can just walk away."
"Ok, you've made your point. But I want to know exactly
what you are expecting me to do before I agree."
"That was what I was about to tell you, but you were
the one who interrupted me."
"Ok, I'm sorry, I'll let you finish before I speak
again."
"Well exactly; my car will pick you up around seven. Of
course my girls will have been with you all afternoon,
getting you ready. Then, when you arrive at my house,
you will be shown up to the smoking room, where I will
be waiting with Mr. Aioka."
On hearing that name I couldn't hold back and again I
interrupted, "Oh no."
"What now?"
"That's the man who I just told you I had a bad
experience with."
"That's not possible; he's never been to England
before. He arrived yesterday. Unless you mean you've
been to Japan?"
"No. It was him last night at that place we went to."
"Well if you go around arranging meetings with men from
foreign countries without taking precautions, then you
shouldn't be surprised when they behave according to
their own customs. Why on earth did you go to him last
night?"
"He asked us to. He sent a message telling Gerry he
could fix it for me to win the dance competition."
"And you went to his room alone?"
"No, Gerry came with me."
"Well that's as bad as being alone; he's not exactly
action man. What on earth did you think he wanted you
for?"
"Please I don't want to talk about it. All I know is
that man is not nice, and I couldn't help you if it's
him you want me to entertain."
"So you don't trust me to be able to control the
situation?"
"How do you mean?"
"I'm guessing you and Gerry went to him, and he had his
own men there to enforce his will on you?"
"Yes."
"This time, it will be on my turf, with my men, and he
will only have one of his henchmen with him. So I'll be
in control of what goes on, and being my guest, he'll
just comply."
"I'm still not sure; he didn't appear to be a man who
could be persuaded."
"And neither am I when I'm the one being backed by my
manpower. You'll see, he'll be meek as a new born
lamb."
"I hope you're right."
"So back to what will happen. You say Mr. Aioka has
already met you; well maybe that was why he was so
interested when I showed him the photos of you in the
underwear and beachwear. Anyway, all I need you to do
is to pose for him, in traditional Japanese poses, with
the things Mr. Aioka will provide."
"Just posing, no touching or more important, no hitting
or beating with sticks."
"Just posing, Mr. Aioka won't touch you at all."
"And the things he'll be asking me to model?"
"What do you think? They'll probably leave you as good
as naked, and he will expect you to display yourself.
But surely that won't present a problem for you?"
"Ok, I'll do it, but remember, I trust you to make sure
he behaves himself."
"Ok, so I'll send my girls around to give you the once
over. Bye for now."
Just as I put the phone down, Gerry walked in the room,
"Who was that?"
"Your ex boss."
"Who? Mr. Spencer?"
"How many other ex bosses have you got?"
"Did you thank him for last night?"
"Yes. But after what happened with that Jap, I don't
know why."
"That wasn't his fault."
"Maybe not, but if we hadn't been there, and we'd gone
to the Marriott instead, it couldn't have happened."
"That's just you using your dislike of Mr. Spencer to
blame him for anything that happens. It could have
happened at the Marriott, and at least going to that
club, you got five hundred quid."
"That's all you think about, bloody money."
"Anyway, what was he ringing for?"
"What do you think? He still wants what he wanted last
night, only now it's moved on to tonight."
"So I suppose you told him where to go."
"Well I was going to, but he kind of convinced me we
still owe him for you not going to prison."
"But that other guy, Peter said that's all done with
now. And he daren't try to shop me now."
"I know, and even Graham says the same. But he also
said, morally, we still owe him."
"And you went along with it?"
"I guess it made sense when he explained it, but I'm
not sure now."
"So, has he told you what he wants you to do tonight?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"You'll laugh if I tell you."
"Laugh? Why, what has he got in mind?"
"No I don't mean its funny, but you'll think I'm mad
for agreeing to go."
"Come on you can't leave it there."
"It's that same Japanese man. Mr. Aioka."
"You're joking?"
"No."
"My god Mary, even I wouldn't go anywhere I knew he was
going to be. You can't seriously tell me you're going
to meet him again?"
"I don't want to, but Graham said he could make sure I
wasn't touched. And I agreed to go and model some
Japanese underwear."
"Are you kidding? Over there they either wear nothing
underneath, or just wrap themselves in white cloth. I
think you've got it all wrong. And if you think that
bloke will be contented to just sit there watching you
model, in either Jap or western knickers, and not touch
you? You were right, you are mad."
"So should I ring Graham and tell him I'm not going to
go to his house?"
"I would. But why are you asking me. I thought I was a
moron these days. You only take notice of that Peter
fella."
"What? You think I should ask him?"
"Not really. But what ever I say, it'll be wrong."
"Don't be like that. But you might have a point. He'd
have more idea about Graham's intentions. But that
would mean telling him all about last night."
"So?"
"The less people that know about that, the happier I'll
be."
"Your choice. But don't go blaming me if it all goes
wrong."
"I wouldn't. But even if I have to tell Peter, I know
he'll understand. And I'm sure he'll know what's best
to do. I'll ring him now."
I dialled the number, it took a few rings, and I
expected the phone to go over to a message service, but
then, "Hello."
"Is that Peter?"
"Yes, is that Mary? I was about to ring you when I got
through with this meeting. I wanted to know if it is
convenient to call on you?"
"Oh yes please. We've got something to tell you, and we
need your advice."
"Ok, can't really talk now, I've just had to duck out
of a meeting to answer this call. I'll wind the meeting
up, and be with you in half an hour."
So that was it, I made our lunch, and we waited for
Peter. It took him a little over his estimated half an
hour, but when he arrived, his first question was, "So
why on earth did you go to that place last night?"
We were still walking along the hall as he asked me,
and as we turned into the front room and he sat himself
down, I answered, "Well, to be honest, I thought we
were going to the Marriott as you'd arranged. It was
Gerry who changed the plan."
Peter looked at Gerry.
"I sometimes wonder how many times that man has to dupe
you before you see him for what he is."
Gerry didn't look pleased at this rebuke, "What do you
mean?"
"That Japanese man is one of Graham's business
contacts, he set you up. Your wife was used as a
sweetener to help his importing business."
As I looked at Peter in amazement I asked, "How do you
know about that man?"
"I told you yesterday, I know people who are interested
in that kind of activity. And he is one of those on the
fringe, the ones you have to handle very carefully. And
his taste in entertainment is not for the squeamish.
You can think yourself lucky you got away as lightly as
you did, he must have been in a good mood."
"So you even know what he did to me?"
"Yes. And what happened to Gerry."
"His leg, yes, that was really scary."
"Well yes, I bet that bit was, but I was actually
talking about what happened to him later."
I looked at Gerry, and this time it was him who turned
a bright red. This was something very unusual. I
hesitated to ask, but I couldn't stop myself, "When do
you call later? And what happened?"
Peter looked a bit guilty, knowing he'd let the cat out
of the bag, but he just said, "That's up to your
husband to tell you. I thought you'd already know about
it."
I looked at Gerry, "Well? Cat got your tongue?"
"Please Mary. I'll tell you later when we're on our
own."
"But Peter already knows, so why am I the only one
who's being kept in the dark."
"It was after you'd stormed off. I was about to go back
to the bar, when that manager bloke asked if I wanted
to join Mr. Aioka in his apartment."
"But after what we'd just been through, why on earth
did you go back up there?"
"I don't know, curiosity I guess."
"Curiosity? You know what that creep is capable of, I
wouldn't have gone back up there for all the tea in
china."
"Well I did. And when I got up there, it was me who
they grabbed hold of. And they did the same to me as
they did to you. Well not exactly, they didn't spank
me, and it wasn't Mr. Aioka who... you know. But it was
one of those guards of his. And while they did it, that
little bastard was sat there watching and laughing."
"Oh my god Gerry. I never knew. Are you alright?"
"Well I ain't going near that bastard again, that's for
sure."
"I can't for the life of me understand why you went
back after what we'd both been through earlier."
Peter said, "I think the curiosity was enhanced by what
they told him he might see when he got there."
I turned and asked, "See? Like what?"
"I'm guessing, but it normally goes something like,
'we're going to have a little show up stairs'. When you
ask what kind. You're told, 'someone will be getting an
arse fucking. Do you want to come and watch?' You will
of course, imagine you are going to see some girl
getting fucked. But when you get there, the only person
you see getting fucked; is yourself in the mirror."
I turned to Gerry, "Was that what happened?"
In a very dejected voice he replied, "More or less."
I got to my feet, and as I knelt by his side, I wrapped
my arms around him, and we hugged and kissed. We'd only
been hugging for a few seconds, when Peter, said, "I
can't imagine why you're making such a fuss of him. For
a start, he only went up there hoping to either see or
be the one to fuck some poor innocent girl. And what
happened to him is not a patch on what you've done on
his behalf."
I gave Peter a dirty look as I said, "Less of that. You
wouldn't be so cocky if you'd been through something
like that."
"Ok, if we can't talk about that, what was it you
wanted to talk to me about?"
"Its Graham, he wants me to go to his house tonight."
"But you know he has no hold over you now."
"I know, but he says, morally, I still haven't paid him
enough."
"That's bollocks. If you'll excuse my French."
"But when he was explaining it to me, I felt so guilty;
I agreed."
"That's silly. Do you know what he wants you for?"
I repeated what I'd told Gerry'
"To model some Japanese underwear for Mr. Aioka."
"And you believed that? My god Mary! You're not the
girl I took you for. I thought you had more sense than
that."
Then he looked at Gerry, "Surely you weren't going to
let her go?"
"I told her I didn't think it was a good idea, and I
was the one who told her to contact you, to ask what
you thought."
"Well at least you're starting to think straight, and
I'm glad you're now accepting that maybe I do know a
bit more about these things than you do. But first
things first, pick up the phone and tell Graham he's
out of luck."
He was looking at Gerry when he gave the instruction,
and as Gerry picked up the phone, he asked, "Then
what?"
"Don't worry about what comes next, just phone Graham
and make sure he gets the message."
Gerry phoned, and he told Graham, but obviously Graham
was putting up an argument or some kind of defence of
his motives. Then as Gerry came off the phone Peter
asked, "So is he clear about where he stands?"
"It's not that simple."
"Oh my god, don't tell me he's persuaded you to let her
go?"
"He says Mary won't be hurt in any way, and the only
reason you don't want her to go, is because you are a
major league pimp. He says you have over fifty whores
working for you, and all you're doing is attempting to
get my Mary to join your stable."
"But you know that already. I explained the other day I
run girls, and yes, if your Mary wants to do that kind
of work, I'll make sure she's protected, and find her
suitable clients. But how does that change what could
happen to Mary tonight?"
"I don't know. It was the way he put it, he says he'll
look after Mary better than you, and he isn't trying to
make money out of her. He only wants her to entertain
some of his friends, and he won't make her into a
whore."
Peter looked from me to Gerry, and then slowly said,
"Well. I guess it's just a case of who you believe. I
thought I'd found a way out for you from under Graham's
thumb. And I've already told you, the other stuff is
your choice. But if you think he's your saviour, then
it's up to you."
Gerry looked at me, but I guess I was as confused as
him as to whom we could trust. Then Gerry said, "I
think maybe she should go to Mr. Spencer's house
tonight, and if it is as he says, then maybe we'll just
pay him off, doing the odd modelling thing for him.
That way I can maybe go back to my old job, and things
can get back to normal."
"You bloody fool. Still it's your funeral. Or to be
more precise, it's your wife's."
"I don't think he's as bad as you make him out to be."
"Ok, you've made your choice. But you do know what will
happen to your wife tonight?"
"She's told you, just modelling."
"Do you want to see some photos of what kind of thing
he has in mind?"
I answered, "No, it's alright. I can guess I'll be
showing lots of naked flesh. But so long as I'm not
being slapped or beaten, it won't be too bad."
"I should just go and let you suffer, but I do feel
partly responsible for you being in this mess. Wait
while I go to my car and gets some photos, then I'll
explain what he has planned for tonight."
He got up and went out to his car, and Gerry said,
"What do you think, who would you trust?"
"Peter. But even if we trust him, we know he wants me
to work as a prostitute for him. At least with Graham,
even if tonight does involve sex, I'm sure once I've
done it a few times, and you're back working at your
old job, we can then get back to normal; like you
said."
"That's the way I see it. I don't think these photos
will make any difference, no matter how much cunt you
have to show."
I didn't like the way Gerry put it, but in essence, the
gist of what he said was about right. Then Peter came
in and handed us about five photos. All the photos were
of the same girl, but just one glance at each of them
made a shiver run down my spine. The girl was naked in
all of the photos, and in all of them she was hanging
by ropes from a horizontally suspended bamboo cane.
What it was hanging from was not shown in the pictures.
All that could be seen was the single rope divided into
two, and held each end of the stout bamboo shaft, which
was somewhere around five or six feet long, and a good
inch or more thick. The poor girl was trust up with
ropes cutting into her naked flesh, each photo showing
her in a different pose to the next. And in one, she
was being probed in her pussy by a large dildo that
appeared to be part of a mask worn by a man. To say she
looked in distress in all these pictures is an
understatement, and to say I was repulsed by them was
also putting it mildly.
Peter asked, "Well, do you still intend to let your
wife go to meet that man?"
"What makes you think this is anything to do with Mr.
Aioka?"
"It was him, or to be more accurate, his personal
assistant who sent them to me."
"Why would he do that?"
"Because he knew he'd be over here for a few weeks, and
I have a reputation for being able to provide girls for
any kind of taste, no matter how weird."
"I don't get it, if you can find him a girl, then what
makes you think he will do something like this to
Mary?"
"If I find him a girl, it'll cost him five grand plus
for just one night. Girls in this country don't go in
for that kind of thing lightly. But a leopard doesn't
change his spots, and being as Graham is trying to
butter this guy up, it's my guess, he's gonna use your
wife to do it."
Gerry repeated what I'd told him, "But Mr. Spencer has
already said it's just posing in Japanese underwear."
"That is what Mr. Aioka calls posing, and as for
Japanese underwear, they either wear nothing, western
stuff as in my catalogue, or traditional linen wraps.
Did he actually say underwear?"
Peter was looking at me when he asked the question.
I thought back, and then tried to repeat the actual
words Graham had said, "I think it was something like,
'He'd seen the photos of me in the underwear and
beachwear. And he wanted me to pose for him in
traditional Japanese poses. He would provide the...'
I'm not sure. I think he said 'things', which I assumed
meant underwear or swimwear."
"As I thought. Those photos show the traditional poses
he wants, and the things, are ropes, clips, pins and
all manner of other ways of causing pain."
Gerry held me close, and I snuggled into his chest.
"So my boy, if I was you I'd tell Graham to find some
other sucker."
Gerry went to the phone, and it was obvious from his
attitude, he was just telling Graham, and not listening
to any kind of excuse or explanation. Then when he came
back, he looked at Peter, "Well I guess I can forget
about getting my job back. And now, I'll bet you have
some kind of plan of your own."
"Plan? For what?"
"For Mary. Who else?"
"I have no plan. As far as I'm concerned, all I'm gonna
do now is leave a card with the name and address of my
legal people, just in case Graham ever does try
anything silly. You've already got my card, if you do
want to contact me. So I guess I'll take my leave."
I looked at Gerry, and my eyes were asking if he
thought I should offer to reward Peter for his help.
But Gerry just asked, "What's up with you?"
"Please Peter, can you just wait here a minute, I want
to have a quick word with Gerry on my own."
And with that I took his arm and led him into the
kitchen.
"We can't just let him go without doing something to
show him how much he's done for us."
"Oh I see. You're back to that again. I'm beginning to
think this sex thing is like a drug for you. Any man
who crosses your path you have to open your legs."
"You ungrateful pig. I've done all this to keep you
from prison."
"Yes so you keep banging on. But that's sorted now, and
yet you still want an excuse to get him into bed with
you."
"I sometimes wonder why I bothered. Don't you
understand if it hadn't been for Peter, I'd still be
under Graham's control, and those photos you saw would
be me tonight? And maybe even worse tomorrow. Well I
don't care what you think, I'm going to let Peter know
if he wants me; it's the least I can do to repay him."
As I turned and began to walk back to the front room,
Gerry said, "So why did you asked me my opinion, if
you'd already made up your mind?"
I ignored him, and as I walked into the front room, I
said to Peter, "We really are grateful for all the help
you've given us, I know we haven't got enough money to
repay your kindness, but if you want to go upstairs
with me, I'll do my best to show you how much we
appreciate your help."
"You know what I think about your prowess in that
department, but I can see from Gerry's look, it is just
been offered as a repayment. So as much as I'd love to
take you up on the offer, I think I'll say no. If at
any time in the future you want my help, just ask, and
if at any time in the future, you offer yourself to me,
just because we are friends, then I'll consider it an
honour. But an offer made under these circumstances is
not what I want; I think you're confusing me with
Graham."
As he first started talking, I felt hurt; at first
thinking he didn't want sex with me. But then as he
continued, my feelings changed, and I somehow felt we'd
insulted him.
"Please Peter. It wasn't meant in that way. And I do
look upon you as my friend."
"Maybe love. But I know your husband still thinks I'm
only doing this to get my hooks into you. So better we
part now on good terms."
I reached up and with my arms around Peter's neck I
began to kiss. The kiss lasted over a minute, and as
our tongues mingled, I felt an exchange of spirits
between two lovers. In that brief moment, I knew this
could not be the last time Peter and I would be in each
others arms. Then as he gently lowered me back to my
feet, he held out his hand to Gerry, and said,
"Well my lad. Hope you get your life sorted out. I have
only two pieces of advice for you. One; stay well clear
of Graham, no matter what he's offering. And second,
make sure you take real good care of this little girl.
Because if you don't, there's plenty of men out there
who will willingly do it for you. And you young lady.
Well what can I say, I'm sorry to be saying goodbye,
but happy you are now free to make your own choices."
With that he walked out of the room; in seconds was
climbing into his car and as I stood in the front
doorway with Gerry's arms wrapped around my waist, off
drove Peter. My head was racing, not knowing if that
was the last time I'd ever see him. Then my trance was
broken by, "Hmm. Maybe he was genuine. I thought all
that stuff was just his patter leading up to getting
you working in one of his brothels."
"Gerry! You really are crude. Even if he had been
trying to persuade me to work for him, it wouldn't have
been like that."
"Look girl, it doesn't matter how it would have been,
if you work for him selling your body for sex, you're a
whore and that's that."
The next few days were very strange, Gerry not going to
work, and not even going out of the house looking for
it. We had argument after argument, neither of us
knowing in what direction our life would take, or even
in what direction we wanted it to go. Gerry collected
all his pay owing to him from work, and with the other
money from those two men and the dance competition; we
had around two grand to live on. Not much, once the
monthly mortgage had been taken out, especially knowing
there wouldn't be another pay check next month.
Then out of the blue came an invitation to the next
round of the dance competition, to be held this time in
Manchester, a large town about a hundred or so miles
away. As soon as Gerry read it, his eyes lit up,
"That's it, if you win this one, it'll solve our money
worries."
I had also been thinking, but I'd been trying to work
out how I could even think about entering.
"It will; will it? Well for one, I need a dress. You
won't get much change out of a grand for the complete
outfit. And then there's entrance money, hotel, and who
am I going to dance with?"
"I hadn't thought about that. What about if I phone Mr.
Spencer and see if he can pull any strings?"
"My god Gerry, don't you dare."
"But he was the one who organised the dress and a
dancing partner last time."
"Yes, and if you remember, that Japanese bloke was some
kind of business contact of his, so it's a little more
than a coincidence, that we got involved with him,
don't you think?"
"Well maybe he'll have gone home by now."
"You're not phoning Graham, if it isn't that Jap, he'll
find some other man to humiliate me with. What about if
I phone Peter?"
"But he didn't organise any of that stuff, and I can't
see him paying for a dress or hotel."
"You're right; we couldn't expect him to pay out unless
we do something for him."
"Are you still going on about having sex with him?"
"No."
The subject was dropped, and as the next week passed
by, our arguments increased in frequency and
bitterness, and by now Gerry had taken to going out in
the afternoons to the pub. Although I resented this,
because we couldn't afford it, it did give me a welcome
break from our constant rowing. While he was out one
afternoon, the phone rang, "4 3 6 5 8 7."
"Hello, is that Mrs. Mary Kendal?"
"Yes, who wants to know?"
"Well my name is Jeff Bland, and I represent the Matrix
Organisation. I assume you've heard of us, we produce
the dance show on Saturday night television."
"Yes, but what do you want me for?"
"You won the last round of the preliminary
competitions, and we expected you to take part in the
next one, but you haven't returned your entrance
application."
"I won't be competing."
"Why ever not?"
"A little thing called money."
"But I was led to believe you were being sponsored by a
wealthy business group."
"Maybe that was who sponsored me for the last
competition, but not anymore."
"Well if there's anything I can do to talk to them, I
might be able to persuade them about the advantages of
continuing their support."
"No thank you, it was my decision to end the connection
between us."
There was a few seconds pause, "Well I won't pry into
your reasons for making that decision, but we would
still like to see you in future competitions, and you
do realise, winning that last one gives you automatic
entry into our up coming series on the TV? Surely
you'll be competing in that?"
"I hadn't realised, but even if I'm entitled, I still
have the same problem."
"But don't tell me you'll miss out on the opportunities
being on TV will create for you."
"What opportunities?"
"They're endless. Once you've appeared on our program,
you'll get invitations to appear on all kind of TV
shows. You'll automatically become a celebrity, and
that means you can ask money just for going to events,
and almost never have to buy things like theatre
tickets, meals, clothes, and even sometimes jewellery.
The list of things people will want you to endorse is
endless. If you can't afford the necessary to compete,
I can recommend and introduce you to several companies
who will support your entrance expenses."
"Why would they do that?"
"As an investment, knowing even if you don't win, just
the TV exposure will allow you to generate any money
they loan you."
"I didn't realise it could be that profitable."
"Just let me send someone to see you to explain it all.
There will be no obligation to take up their offer."
"Ok, but make sure they ring me first so I can have
someone here who'll be able to advise me."
"Ok, will do, and I hope we see you entering for the
next round. Bye for now."
My first action was to pick the phone back up and ring
Peter to ask if he would be available when the person
came to see me. I knew I wouldn't be able to decide if
it was a good idea to accept what ever terms they
offered, and Gerry wouldn't be much better than me. But
Peter said in his opinion, it was pointless the person
coming at all, and he suggested he should come and
explain his reasons to Gerry and I together. So knowing
Gerry would be home later, I arranged for Peter to call
to see us around seven in the evening.
When Gerry arrived home from his afternoons drinking, I
gave him his evening meal, and told him about the two
telephone conversations I'd had while he was out. The
first one got him excited, but on hearing I'd arranged
for Peter to come and advise us, this dampened his
enthusiasm. But around seven, Peter arrived, and I
showed him into the front room. He then told us, that
in his opinion, the dance competition was a really
positive way forward, and he even said, "I'm not sure
old Graham intended it to work in your favour, but
getting you to that competition was the best thing he
could have done for you."
He went on to explain all the things the man on the
phone had mentioned about capitalising on a TV
appearance were true. And he even added, if handled by
an agent, I could make a career from just one
appearance. But he strongly advised against going
through any of the many sponsors that I'd find willing
to back my attempt. Again, in his opinion, unless they
were backing me to gain advertising from my appearance,
he said their motives would be the interest they would
make on the money loaned to me. And as this would be a
very substantial sum, it could take me years to pay it
back. And leave me in the position where if the future
career didn't pan out, I could be deep in debt for
years, or even loose our house.
Gerry didn't look pleased at Peter's advice, and he
said, "So even though you think she could make loads of
money, you don't think it's worth the gamble?"
"It's your choice, but, and I'm not saying your Mary
can't dance; you did say that last competition was
fixed. There are so many who've gone this way before,
and come unstuck."
"So should she just give-up on her dream?"
"No. But if you could earn enough money to get the ball
rolling, and then just do a single job every time you
need to top-up the kitty. That way if she wins
competitions on her own merit, and the money does start
rolling in, it'll all be spends. But if things don't
turnout, you won't end up in debt."
"I get it. You're back to trying to get Mary working in
one of your whore houses?"
"Not quite. But I do have a couple of clients who saw
her dancing the other week, and either or both of them
would pay handsomely to take her out for the evening."
"Yes, but she'd still be working as a whore, and you'd
still take your cut?"
"Well her job title would actually be 'An Escort', but
yes, she'd be whoring. And yes I'd take my ten percent.
But at around two grand a man, she'd make a net of
three-thousand six-hundred for just two nights. And
she'd be wined and dined at the very best places, and I
can guarantee she won't have to put up with any rough
stuff."
I still hadn't spoken, as I thought Gerry was fighting
my cause quite effectively. But as Gerry heard the
amounts of money to be made, I could see his excitement
building. Then he asked,
"Are you sure you can get that much money for just one
fuck?"
"I told you before, it's the desirability factor. They
know she's gonna be on TV, so they can brag to their
colleagues, 'I've fucked her'. Once she's actually done
her first show, I'll be upping the anti to five grand a
time."
"Jesus Mary. I bet you never knew just how valuable
that pussy you're sitting on was worth?"
I replied in a disapprovingly sarcastic tone, "You're
right. But I also never imagined you put so little
value on it."
He looked at Peter, "What the fuck is it with her? I
don't know what I've done; but what ever I say I'm in
the wrong."
Peter didn't reply to Gerry, but turned and said to me
softly, "I know it's a hard pill to swallow, but if you
just do these first two jobs, it'll give you enough
funds to enter the next few competitions, and keep your
household bills up to date. If you're winning
competitions by then, and as your fame grows, maybe I
could get you some legitimate advertising."
I didn't answer, but just sat there with my head hung
low, shaking it side to side. Gerry said, "It don't
look like she's interested. And it wouldn't surprise me
if I'm in the spare room tonight. I guess you'd better
go."
"Ok, I'll leave. And if you still want to take up a
loan, I will try to get here to advise you. Bye for
now."
As soon as he'd gone, and it wasn't even seven-thirty,
I went up to my room, got into bed, and that was me for
the night. Gerry didn't attempt to join me, but he
spent the night as he'd predicted, in the spare room. I
didn't actually go straight to sleep when I'd gone up
stairs; I lay there into the early hours of the
morning, just running various scenarios through my
head. I was up and doing housework by the time Gerry
decided to come down stairs, and his first words were
spoken in a very submissive tone.
"Are we cool?"
"I guess so. I'm sorry about last night; I know it
wasn't your fault."
"So I guess I'll have to think about going to the job
centre?"
"Maybe. But before we do anything, I think we should
talk."
We both sat down, and he held my hand, "Ok, what are
you thinking?"
"I haven't decided anything yet, but let me just run
these ideas past you. First, you could do what you've
just said, go find a job, and I'll go back to being a
dreary housewife."
"You're not dreary."
"No please don't speak; I'll loose my train of
thought."
"Sorry."
"Well that is one option."
"Then I could wait for this man from the TV Company to
send someone to sponsor me. And maybe, just maybe, if
my dancing is good enough. And if my face clicks when I
do TV interviews, then I could become a celebrity. But
that is a big risk."
I paused before daring to say the next option.
"Ok, you know the third option, but if I spell this
out; I don't want any comments about me being sex
crazy."
"I'm Shtum."
"Well if I do let Peter find men, at least if I'm not
any good at dancing, at least I'll have given it my
best shot, and we won't be in debt."
"Can I speak?"
"Yes, I want to know what you think?"
"You've obviously thought this through. And it's also
obvious; you want to try the dancing. Like you just
said, once you've tried, if it don't workout, I can
always look for work then, but we won't be starting
with a big debt to repay."
"So you think I should phone Peter?"
"I guess so."
"You know what that will make me?"
"Yes, but it isn't as if you're gonna keep doing it."
"And there won't be any snide remarks?"
"No babe. You know I'm with you all the way."
So move on a week, Peter has advanced me the money to
enter the next round of the competition. Supplied me
with a wardrobe of a dozen dresses and underwear. And
even managed to locate Trav, and persuade him to be my
permanent partner. But this now meant, any competition
money earned, would be split two ways. But that was
better than none at all. So now my days are taken up
with dance practice, while Gerry spends his mornings in
bed, and his afternoons down the pub.
I think it was about two or three weeks after making my
decision, that I got a call from Peter, asking me to be
ready at around seven the next evening, I'd be picked
up by a taxi, and meet a Mr. Yardley at the Holiday
Inn. He also told me to expect an express delivery;
he'd sent me a supply of yellow pills. The pills
arrived that same day by motorcycle dispatch rider. The
next evening, I was ready, and the taxi was on time,
but I'd made up my mind to do this without the help of
the pills. So about seven-thirty, as I step out from
the cab, a very distinguished gentleman was waiting to
take my hand.
"Good evening Mrs. Kendal, I'm Mr. Yardley. I think
you're expecting me?"
I took his hand, gave a slight bow, and replied, "Yes.
But please call me Mary."
There was some small talk, where he also told me his
first name, which was Alan, and then he escorted me
into the hotel. We dined in the main restaurant, and as
you might expect, the meal was sumptuous. I did drink
some wine, but not too much, I wanted to be sure I kept
my wits about me. After the meal, we talked, nothing of
any consequence, just me agreeing with any opinion he
put forward. Then around nine-thirty, he took me
through to the ballroom, where there were about thirty
or so couples just dancing in a relaxed manner around
the floor.
We joined them, and though not a competition dancer,
this man knew not only how to dance, but how to hold a
girl and provide the all important lead. The next hour
or so was so pleasant, just floating around, not having
to impress any judges, but still being with a real
dancer. Even if he was in my dad's age group! I later
found out he was actually sixty-two years old! I'd only
guessed in his early fifties. But all that aside, his
behaviour and conversation was impeccable, and it was
hard to believe what the real purpose of this evening
was.
During the evenings dancing, we took time out several
times, where he'd drink champagne, but after just the
one glass, I reverted to a non-alcoholic orange drink.
I guess it was around eleven-thirty when the mood of
the music began to incline to the romantic, and they
also dropped the light level. It was with this change,
that it became evident; Alan was beginning to think
about what was still to come when the dance had ended.
This as you can guess was demonstrated by his cock
making itself known as Alan pulled himself close to me
during the dancing. The first time I realised, I guess
it must have shown on my face, because he immediately
slackened his hold, and as a mild blush came to his
cheeks, he whispered in my ear, "I'm sorry my dear. It
has a will of its own."
I found this so charming, as he'd been holding me
tightly to his body all evening, and it wasn't as
though he'd suddenly pushed his cock up against me in a
base or threatening manner. So as I said, "I
understand. But please don't relax your hold; I need
your strong guidance."
The smile that appeared on his face was as if I'd given
him the moon, and he resumed his grip, pulling my body
back into contact with his cock.
The rest of the dances were almost like actual sex!
Several times, I saw his eyes glaze over, and I was
almost sure it was because he was actually cumming in
his pants. But it wasn't just him who couldn't control
his emotions, on at least three occasions, my arousal
got the upper hand, and by the time we arrived at the
last waltz, I was praying the juices I could feel at
the tops of my legs wouldn't make themselves known to
other dancers.
His comments about our evening as we made our way up in
the lift, and along the corridors towards his room, had
now moved from the impeccable behaviour standard, to
the, can't wait to fuck you variety.
I guess that's not really fair, his language was always
that of a gentleman, but the subject of his
conversation was now directed to the actual point of
the evening. He told me how he'd cum whilst dancing,
and how he wanted to cum in every possible way with me.
I for my part tried to banter on equal terms, and
didn't let any of his sexual suggestions faze me. As we
arrived at his room his first pressing engagement was
the bathroom, and whilst he was busy, I re-opened the
door and hung the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the outside.
Then as we proceeded to the bed, he lay me down and
took the greatest of pleasure in slowly peeling my
clothes off until I was completely naked. Then he must
have spent a good ten or more minutes kissing,
stroking, licking and generally fondling just about
every square inch of my flesh, finishing up with his
face buried deep into my crotch. My arousal was
simmering just below boiling point as we'd left the
dance floor, and his wonderful attention since we
arrived in his room created several minor eruptions.
But his tongue in my pussy, bottom and that whole area,
had me bucking and heaving, and almost at the point of
begging him to fuck me.
But before I actually reached that humiliating
situation, he stepped down from the bed, and began to
strip himself. As his boxer shorts left his waist, I
could now see why his cock had made itself so apparent
during the dancing. Not only was it hard, but big. Not
I hasten to add a rival for Olaf, but fatter and every
bit as long a Peter's magnificent specimen. Once naked,
he climbed up alongside me, and as he lay himself on
his back, he said, "Come-on then, let's see you earn
your money."
This was definitely an out of character remark for him,
and at first I took it as some kind of slur. But then
it came to me, that this man had treated me to all of
the finest things money could buy all evening, and he
was right, it was now my turn to show him I was worth
two thousand pounds of his money. I got up onto my
hands and knees along side him on the bed, and asked,
"Do you want me to take you in my mouth first, or shall
I just mount you?"
"I think you can just slip that little cunt onto my
cock, it won't take long for my first load."
I lifted my leg over his torso, and put the head of his
cock against my wet slippery valley. Knowing the size
of his cock, I'd intended to lower myself down slowly,
but my pussy had other ideas. As soon as I felt his
bell-end resting against the flesh of my slit, my hips
lunged forwards. It wasn't so much his cock slipping up
my pussy; more a case of my pussy stretching itself
down and around his cock. It took me by surprise, and I
could tell by the look on his face, he was also taken
aback.
Unthinkingly, I paraphrased his remark from earlier,
"I'm sorry. It has a will of its own."
A wry smile appeared on his face, as he pushed his cock
hard up, making crotch to groin contact. I fucked him
slow and purposely, using all of the length of his
cock, but as he'd said, it was only five or so minutes
before he began to jerk his cum up into my pussy. My
pussy, of course, returned the compliment, by going
into a minor convulsion.
This orgasm was a full contraction and fairly hefty
gusher, but not one that knocked out my consciousness.
But even though he'd finished his cum strokes, and I
was conscious of my crotch display, I was unable to cut
my performance short. So by the time I was able to lift
myself from above him, his lower belly was covered in
my sticky juices. Now I guess in some of the other
sexual events that had taken place in this last month
or so, this kind of sticky excess must have covered my
sexual partner before, but then as I had either been in
a semi-conscious state, or just because I'd felt like I
was the one being used, I'd never before felt guilty
for causing such a mess. But now with this man who I
still considered to be a refined gentleman, I felt so
guilty, and I began to blurt out apologies.
He just smoothed over the whole thing, by turning me
over on my back, ignoring the sticky mess, and just
began to kiss and caress me. Within minutes, we were
making love again; for that is what it felt like, not
just lustful sex. And he continued in this way for at
least two hours, I think he actually climax seven
times! How a man of his age had the stamina, to enable
him to keep his erection for so long, I can only assume
must be due to some kind of drugs. But never mind the
length of time he held his erection, where on earth did
he summon up all that spunk!
We slept the night together in each others arms, and
when I awoke in the morning, he was gone. But there on
the little table beside the bed were two tall champagne
glasses. One was empty, but the other had a single red
rose in it. To one side was a bucket with a bottle of
champagne sitting in the ice, the wires already broken,
and cork ready to pop. Then set up in front of the
glass with the rose was an envelope. I reached across
and took out the note from inside.
---------
My Dearest Mary,
Thank you for a wonderful evening; I can't remember
when I last enjoyed myself as much as I did last night.
I hope you enjoy the champagne. The bill for the room,
complete with breakfast is already settled. The
breakfast can be taken either in the room, or in the
breakfast lounge downstairs. When you leave, just ask
at reception, I have settled the fare for the taxi. I
sincerely hope we can meet again some time in the near
future.
Bye, and fondest wishes Alan.
---------
So after I'd had my shower and sorted myself out, I
phoned for the breakfast to be brought to the room, and
sat there sipping champagne, waiting for it to arrive.
Everything was as he'd said, and I arrived home around
ten in the morning. Gerry was still in bed, and I
decided to slip in alongside him. As he felt me getting
into bed, he turned over, and slipped his arm around
me. Within minutes, his leg was lifting over mine, and
I was opening my legs wide for him to mount me. I know
it sounds wicked, but although this was something he
did regularly, I'm sure neither of us actually got as
much pleasure from sex alone together, as we did if it
is given the added danger or spice provided by another
person being involved with us. But that said, he rolled
off after he'd spent his ardour, and I slipped out to
the bathroom to clean myself before once again slipping
in alongside him.
We were both awaken by the telephone, and as it is on
Gerry's side of the bed, he answered it, "Yeh. Who is
it?"
There was a pause while whom ever it was spoke, and
then Gerry said excitedly, "No bloody Shit. That's
great."
Another pause, then.
"Too bloody right. She must have really rung his bell.
Yep, I'll let her know."
Then as he put the phone down, "My god Mary, what did
you get up to with that bloke last night?"
My heart dropped, I didn't need this kind of
inquisition, especially after he'd agreed this was what
he wanted me to do. I snapped out in an angry voice,
"That's it! I've had it with you."
"Hey babe, what's wrong? I wasn't trying to be nasty.
Come on its all cool. In fact it's more than cool. I
was just trying to tell you how good you must have
been. That guy paid an extra five hundred quid, and it
wasn't because Peter asked him. He just said you
deserved the extra. And he wants to see you again."
While Gerry was speaking I calmed down, as I realised
it wasn't his usual recriminations, and blaming me for
being a slut, but he was genuinely pleased with what
I'd done. Even if it was only because I'd earned even
more money than he'd expected.
"That's ok then. But I don't want any snide comments."
"Hey love, come on."
He wrapped his arms around me, and in between kissing
and cuddling me, he continued,
"I'm cool with what you're doing. Just so long as
you're ok with it?"
"I guess so."
Then thinking about the sum of money he'd just
mentioned, I added,
"That man was ever so nice last night; he behaved like
a real gentleman all evening."
Gerry lent back so he could look into my face a see my
expression, "What? He didn't even fuck you?"
"No. I don't mean that. I mean all evening; he behaved
as if we were on a date. Yes when we got up to his
room, we made love. But he wasn't aggressive or nasty
with it."
"Look babe, I know you don't like some words. But what
he did wasn't making love; he fucked you. And you
fucked him, but only for the money. Don't get any
romantic ideas about it."
"Well ok, he fucked me. But I still felt he did it with
feeling, as though it meant something to him."
"It must have, he paid enough for it."
Then he continued, "Will you meet him again?"
"I hadn't thought about it."
"Well you ought to; Peter says he wants another bite of
the apple."
"We said I'd only do a couple of jobs, just to make
enough to finance this dance competition."
"So if you see him again, that will be two jobs."
"But Peter said he had another man who wanted to go out
with me. I don't want to agree to one man, and then
find out I still have another one arranged."
"Do you want me to ring Peter and see what the score
is?"
"I guess so."
So while I went to the bathroom Gerry phoned Peter, and
when I returned, he informed me, Peter had already
arranged for me to spend the whole of next weekend with
a Mr. Francis. Again, Peter would supply suitable
clothing for me. But this time I would be escorting
this Mr. Francis as his daughter, at some high-class
social event. On hearing this, it gave me some cause
for concern, not on the sexual front, but more my lack
of social graces. After all, although I hadn't liked
Gerry sisters remark whilst out on her hen night, she
was in essence right; I had been brought-up on a
council-house estate.
I actually rang Peter back, and pointed out my
misgivings, but he assured me, in his opinion, I'd be
able to pull it off without any problems. So Friday
night arrived, and a black Rolls Royce pulled up in
front of our house. I didn't wait for the driver to
walk up to our door, but as soon as I'd spotted the car
through the window, I'd grabbed my weekend bag, put on
my coat, and opened the front door, just as he was half
way up our garden path.
"Mrs. Kendal?"
"Yes."
"Let me take your bag. Follow me."
In the car was a man, again I'm guessing, but I'd think
around forty-five years old. Dressed in formal evening
wear, and looking very hansom. As I stepped in and sat
alongside him he said, "My name is David, but I'd like
you to just call me daddy. Not dad or pop, just daddy.
And as everyone will eventually see you on TV, I will
need to introduce you as Mary. But most of the time
I'll call you by the pet name I have for you; Lou."
"Yes daddy."
"That's good. Now as to your behaviour. I'd like you to
appear innocent, and if there are any comments or jokes
of a riskay nature, do not laugh or react in any way,
let them go over your head, as if you don't understand
them."
"Yes daddy."
He smiled, and said, "Ok, now give me a kiss."
"What kind? A daddy kiss, or one to wet your appetite?"
"Well just this once, I'll try one of each, the daddy
one first."
I first gave him a simple peck on the cheek, and then
sat back. Then after a few seconds pause I brought my
head up towards his, with it held on a slight angle. As
our mouths came into contact, I let my tongue penetrate
through my own lips, and then on into his mouth. He
responded with equal vigour, and our tongues
intermingled for a minute or more. I'm not sure about
the affect I had on his state of arousal, but I know
for my part, it ignited the kindling in my tummy, and I
wouldn't have needed any persuading to have taken the
whole thing to the next level.
But as it was, he took a deep breath after the kiss,
and said, "Wow! Yes well! I don't think you'd better
let anyone see you giving me a kiss like that."
Then we settled down and he explained a few more things
about how I was to behave during the weekend. Not once
was there any mention of where, when or whom I'd be
expected to have sex with. And to my amazement, the
whole weekend was just as he had described, I played
the part of his daughter, at a very big country house,
and we two were just one couple out of at least ten
invited guests. The food was excellent, and company was
pleasant, if somewhat upper-crust and full of their own
importance. And I was returned to my home at around
nine on Sunday evening. Daddy said goodnight, and
thanked me for a pleasant weekend, and off he went.
Gerry was surprised to see me home so early, and when
he asked, "Well how was it?"
I replied, "I'm not sure."
"Why what went wrong?"
"I don't know. Nothing happened as far as I know that
could have upset him."
"But what?"
"Well, we didn't have sex. All I did was pretend to be
his daughter."
"What he didn't even touch you?"
"No. Not unless you class holding my hand, or me
sitting on his knee a couple of times."
"Did he say anything about not paying you when he
dropped you off?"
"No, he just thanked me for a pleasant weekend."
"That don't sound good, I can't think he'll pay two
grand for just a pleasant weekend. Why didn't you ask
if he wanted you to fuck on the way home in the car?"
"I'm not sure. I think I'd been playing the part of the
innocent daughter so long, I actually felt like it was
my dad in the car with me."
"That's no good; I'll bet he was waiting for you to
give him the nod. Some blokes are like that. A bit
shy."
"I don't think he was shy. Maybe he just didn't like
me. I'll ring Peter and ask him to find out if I
screwed-up."
So off I went, but Peter's phone went onto answer
machine, "Hi. It's Mary. I've just got home from my
weekend with Mr. Francis. I hope everything's ok, but
he didn't attempt to... you know, touch me or anything.
I'm sorry if I didn't live up his expectation. Ring me
back as soon as you can. Bye Mary."
It was nearly thirty minutes before Peter rang back,
and as Gerry was so uptight about the thought of me not
getting paid, he dashed to answer the phone. When he
came into the kitchen where I was doing the washing-up,
his face told me things were ok before he opened his
mouth. He had a beaming smile from ear to ear.
"What?"
"How the bloody hell do you do it?"
"What d'you mean?"
"He's gone and matched that other bloke."
"What do you mean?"
"Paid two-and-a-half-grand! And he wants to take you
out again."
"Oh my god! But we said I'd only do the two jobs."
"You have to be joking? One bloke doesn't even touch
you, and even you said going out with the other one was
like going on a date, except you got paid for it. And
if they've paid that price once, I'll bet they'll both
pay the same if not more next time. Do you realise,
you'll have got the same amount for going out twice, as
I earned by working forty hours a week for six months."
"But what if they both want to keep seeing me?"
"Well why not?"
"You wouldn't mind?"
"Well of course, I don't like the idea. But we have to
be realistic. Four times, compared to me working like
an idiot for six months. I'd have to be stupid to kick-
up a fuss."
So with us both on a high, up we went to bed, and he
made love to me. Next day I was back with Trav doing
our dance practice, we were doing six hours a day, four
days a week, and this next weekend was the next round
of the competition. The evening of the competition
Gerry and I were picked-up by Peter in a limo, and we
then picked-up Trav on our way. All four of us shared a
table, but Gerry very soon disappeared to the bar,
leaving me with Trav and Peter. The dancing went well,
and although we got into the two couple dance-off
finale, this time we were the runners-up. But even
though we didn't win, we were still on a high, as
second was no minor achievement, and still carried a
two hundred quid prise. Peter had just suggested
getting us a bottle of champagne, when one arrived at
our table, with a note attached. We were told it was
courtesy of a gentleman on the other side of the dance
floor.
The note read.
Mary my dear, you danced as always exquisitely, and I
can only assume the reason you didn't win, was that
judges had been bribed by the other couple. But the
result apart, it did my heart the power of good seeing
you once again gliding around the floor. My only regret
is that I won't be the one who gets the pleasure of the
last dance of the evening, or more importantly, the
last sighs before you go to sleep.
I hope we can meet again soon, Alan.
The note was handed directly to me, but I could see
both Trav and Peter were curious to know what it said.
I passed it to Peter, letting him decide if he wanted
Trav to know its contents. Peter read it, and then
after folding it up, slipped it in his pocket without
showing it to Trav. We all took a glass of champagne,
and after I'd about drank my glass half way down, Trav
said, "Well Mary. How about we take to the floor again,
but this time, just for the pleasure."
I didn't answer, but just rose to my feet, and soon we
floated around, in a similar manner to how I'd danced
with Alan the other night. And in a similar manner, it
soon became obvious to me; Trav had his mind on other
things than dancing. But where as Alan had attempted to
release his hold to prevent me from noticing, Trav
appeared to be trying to impress his arousal on me, and
I guessed he was trying to get a reaction from me. I
know I felt on that first night with Trav, a sense of
debt for his guidance and help, but now, we had been
practicing together for a few weeks, and we were both
on equal footing regarding any benefits to be gained
from this competition. So tonight, I didn't have that
same feeling of debt, and in fact thought this display
of his arousal was crude. So as the next dance began, I
made my excuses, and returned towards the table.
As Peter saw us making our way back, he got to his
feet, and intercepted us, offering to take over from
Trav. I didn't mind this, and again we were off around
the floor. Peter wasn't a bad dancer, but obviously not
in the same league as Trav. But the main difference was
his stance and hold. A confident male lead will always
bring his partners body up to his own, and it is this
contact of the hip area which gives the control to the
male. It is also as I have already mentioned, how they
indicate to the female they want to do more than just
dance with her. But that aside, as Peter and I danced,
although he made his way around the floor a lot better
than my Gerry, it wasn't what I'd call real dancing.
But the second dance with Peter was a slow smoochie
number, it was of course, getting towards that time of
night, and within seconds of the lights dimming, his
hands had dropped and came to rest cupping the cheeks
of my bottom. It was then he pulled me close up to
himself, and now it was his erection I could feel
pressing into my tummy.
Only a few seconds of this shuffling around had passed
by before he was whispering in my ear, "I was just
thinking; I never did get around to claiming my reward
for getting Graham off your husbands back."
Now even though back when he'd first helped us, I was
more than willing to repay him by taking him to my bed,
somehow tonight just didn't feel like the right moment.
So I tried to put him off until another time,
"Maybe we could arrange a night out together next
week?"
"I was thinking about coming home with you tonight."
"What? You want to do it at my house?"
"Why not? If we give Gerry the choice to either join us
or use your spare room, I'm sure he'll go along with
one or the other of those options."
Now I could see Peter had his mind already set on
having sex, and knowing Trav also had this on his mind,
if Peter was going to come back to our house tonight, I
didn't want Trav to know why. So I stupidly said,
"Ok, but make sure you don't say anything in front of
Trav."
"Trav, why what's it got to do with him?"
"Well nothing really. But he's already made his desires
known, and he might take it as a slap in the face if he
knows I'm letting you, but denying him."
Peter had a wry smile on his face as he said, "So the
randy young buck wants to get in on the action?"
"I don't know about getting in on any action. But
during that last dance, he made sure I could tell he
was aroused."
"So why not let him come back with us? After all, he is
an essential part of your plan to do well on TV."
This wasn't an outcome I'd even considered, "But. You
mean go to bed with all three of you?"
"Why not? You've got more than enough stamina to see us
three off."
"I-I couldn't do that. What would Gerry say?"
"Once I explain it's a necessary part of earning his
weekly beer money, he'll just toe the line as usual."
At that moment the song stopped, and a slightly quicker
number began to play, Peter loosed his hold and as he
took my hand to lead me back to the table he said,
"Come-on lets sit this one out."
As we walked back around the perimeter of the dance
floor, Peter used his hand to signal to Gerry, who then
also began to make his way back towards our table.
However, before we'd reached the table Peter and I were
intercepted by Alan; he must have been lying in wait
near our table watching for me leaving the dance floor.
"Hello my dear. And how are you enjoying the dance?"
Peter instantly replied, "I hope you'll excuse me Mr.
Francis, I'll leave Mary in your capable hands."
As they nodded to each other and Peter walked away, I
replied,
"I'm having a wonderful time, and thank you for the
lovely note, and of course the champagne. Are you here
by yourself?"
"No my dear, I'm with my wife. She's over at our table
on the other side of the floor."
"Oh, I see. I thought maybe you'd come to ask me for a
dance?"
"And if I had, would you have said yes?"
"Of course I would."
"Why? Because you think you need to curry favour with
me?"
"No. Of course not. You know I love the way you dance."
"So tell me my dear, if I invited you out to a dance
next week. Not via that weasel Peter Harris and his
phony agency. But just ask you to come, and no money
changing hands. Would you still come?"
This really put me on the spot,
"I-I don't know. I'm married. I don't think my husband
would approve."
"I see. So it is my money you're after?"
"Please don't put it that way. I would come out with
you just for the pleasure of dancing. But that would be
all I'd agree to do with you. But if I suggested that,
my husband would think there was something more going
on. He wouldn't understand we could just go out
together for an innocent dance."
"And he'd be right."
"W-What do you mean?"
"I couldn't dance with you all evening, and not make
love to you afterwards. That would be like spending all
day preparing the ingredients, all afternoon cooking
them, and then when the meal is ready to eat, throwing
it in the bin."
I blushed, and then asked, "So if I agreed to go
dancing, you'd expect me to spend the night in your
bed?"
"Of course."
"I'm sorry. I couldn't do that."
Just at that moment, they announced the last dance was
about to start. So I added, "Please, will you excuse
me? I'd like to get my husband to accompany me on the
floor for this last dance."
"And if I said I'd pay you one hundred pounds to let me
have this dance, what would you say to that?"
"I'm so sorry, please don't take this as an insult, but
I do want to be with him for this last dance."
"Ok my dear. But at least let me escort you back to
your table."
With that he took my arm and walked me back to where
Gerry was seated with Trav and Peter. As I arrived at
the table, I held out my arm and said to Gerry, "It's
the last waltz, are you going to dance with me?"
He curled his lip, and in a disgruntled tone asked, "Do
I have to? Can't one of these others dance with you?"
I could see all three of the other men about to offer,
and I quickly replied, "Please Gerry. I haven't asked
you for anything else all-night."
Before Gerry uttered a word, Alan had placed five crisp
new twenty-pound notes on the table in front of Gerry.
As Gerry blurted out, "What the...?"
Alan said, "It'd be my pleasure to take your place
young man. I hope that is sufficient to cover the wear
and tear on your little lady?"
Gerry reached for the money, and I could see by his
face he looked delighted to accept Alan's offer. But
before he'd managed to get his hands on it, Peter had
snatched it up off the table, and as he thrust it back
up to Alan, he snapped angrily, "Take that back. You
should know better than to do your business in public.
And in future, don't forget, all transactions need to
be negotiated through me."
Now Gerry looked angry, I guess on two counts, one,
he'd wanted that money, but second, I think he felt as
my husband he had some say in who I went with, and how
much it cost them. Peter, as you've just heard, didn't
like Alan trying to deal without him. And Trav was
maybe a little confused at what was going on, but also
angry at what I think he considered as me being used
for money.
So as I could see they were all getting to their feet,
and fearing some kind of brawl developing, I took
Alan's hand, and as I led him back onto the floor, I
said to all three of the others at the table, "For
god's sake, pack it in. I'll dance with him, and
nobodies gonna pay anyone."
Then as I turned back to Alan, "Come-on, if we don't
get a move on the dance will be over."
He lifted his arm high in the air, and snapped his
fingers. Instantly, a waiter arrived, before we'd even
started to dance. Alan lent away from me and spoke
directly into the waiter's ear. Then as the waiter
left, he took hold and began to guide me around the
floor.
It was only a minute or so before that piece of music
finished, but then the band leader announced, "Well
ladies and gentlemen; it seems tonight we are to have a
second last waltz. So those of you who still have a few
more sweet nothings to whisper, please take your
partners once again."
And again we were off; it still amazes me what money
can do.
While we danced, Alan said, "So my dear, it looks like
your husband only has a minor share in your interests."
"Please, I don't want to talk about it."
"Ok. But tell me this; if I wanted to take you into one
of the private rooms they have here, are you authorised
to negotiate terms, or do I need to discuss it with
Peter?"
"It wouldn't do you any good who you discuss it with,
as soon as this dance finishes, I'm going home."
He dropped the subject, and when this final dance of
the evening came to an end, he escorted me back to the
table. As I sat down, Alan asked, "Excuse me gentlemen,
I'm not sure which one of you I am supposed to discuss
this with. But as I guess it has to be one of you
three; I am wondering just how much it would cost me
for the pleasure of young Mary's company for the next
hour?"
This time, I was angry, and I snapped back before any
of the others got the chance,
"I've already told you! I'm going straight home. And
after tonight, don't you ever bother asking Peter to
arrange another meeting with me."
Alan instantly replied, "My, my. Me thinks the lady
doth protest too much."
Then looking straight at Peter, "I don't think you've
got this one house trained yet. Perhaps you need to
have a little talk with her, and then come over to my
table and let me know how much it will cost me."
With that he gave a little bow of his head, turned and
walked back across the dance floor.
I was at a loss for words, but Trav seeing my reaction
to Alan's proposition, turned to me and asked, "Do you
want me to go over there and plant one on the dirty old
bastard?"
Peter interrupted before I spoke, "Don't you dare. Just
keep your nose out of things you don't understand."
Surprisingly, Trav just sat back in his chair without
any protest.
Gerry looked at me, as if not knowing what to say, so I
spoke-up for myself, "Well I don't care what he's
offering, he's gonna be out of luck tonight."
Then I immediately added, "Or any other night for that
matter."
Then looking directly at Peter I continued, "If he
calls you again, tell him to get lost."
Peter got to his feet, held his hand out towards me,
and said, "Excuse me lads, but I think Mary and I need
a word in private."
"What ever you've got to say to me on this subject, you
can say in front of Gerry and Trav."
"No I can't. Now are you coming or not."
I was determined to stay put, and I was about to tell
him to get lost, but Gerry said, "I think you'd better
hear what he wants to tell you. Trav and I can wait
over there, and if you still don't like what he says,
you can always tell him no."
So as Trav and Gerry got to their feet and walk from
the table, Peter sat back down.
"Ok. What's it all about?"
"What d'you mean?"
"You couldn't say enough nice things about him the
other week. Now you're spitting feathers every time his
name is mentioned."
"It's his attitude. He thinks he can just open his
wallet and I'll jump through hoops."
"Well if you don't, there are plenty more out there who
will. He always treats his girls like ladies. He pays
well. And he's never been violent. What more do you
want?"
"But it's just he expects me to..."
Peter interrupted, "Do as he asks. He's entitled to. He
pays the bills. You know what they say, 'he who pays
the piper, calls the tune'. And he's been calling the
tune for so many years, he just expects everyone to
jump the minute he speaks. But he won't call a tune
that you won't enjoy singing along with."
There was a little pause, and then Peter continued,
"Now come on, let me take you over to his table, so you
can apologise."
"Never."
"Are you sure?"
"I don't see why I should."
"Well I've asked you to. Isn't that enough?"
"You're sounding as bad as him."
"Ok, maybe he's right?"
"About what?"
"Maybe you aren't house trained. Maybe its time for me
to walk away and let you look after your own life. If
you can't take advice, maybe you're not worth the
effort."
He rose to his feet, but before he moved I said
quickly, "What are you doing? Are you going to stop
helping me?"
"It seems you don't want to take my advice, so for what
little use you'll be to me, I might as well let you go
your own way. Maybe that husband will get you some
punters from down his local pub."
"No Peter. I don't want you to go. I need you to look
after things for me."
"Well its your choice, come and tell Alan how sorry you
are, and maybe if we let him have you tonight as a
gesture of goodwill, it might get you back in his good
books."
I knew I had to agree, and without speaking, I got to
my feet. Then as Peter began to walk me across the
floor, I remembered Alan saying he was with his wife at
the table.
"Oh my god!"
"What?"
"He's got his wife with him."
"So?"
"But we can't talk about him... you know... having sex
with me. Not in front of her."
Peter hadn't even slowed his pace, and as Alan's table
was now in sight, "Don't worry about her, she knows all
about his little hobby."
As we approached the table where Alan sat, I could see
his wife, a lady of about the same age as him, but
unlike him, she actually looked in her sixties. And as
she was sitting to the right hand side of the table, I
could see she wasn't sitting on a normal chair, but
instead, she was seated in a wheelchair.
As we arrived at the table, Peter said, "Excuse me Mr.
Mrs. Francis. Mary has re-considered your request. And
by way of an apology for any offence she might have
caused, she would like you to accept her company
tonight with her compliments."
I expected at least a look of distaste or disgust on
his wife's face, but instead, she smiled, and she was
the one who replied.
"My husband will be pleased to accept."
And as she manipulated the little joystick on the arm
of her wheelchair, it span around towards where we
stood, and it was off. As it dashed towards Peter and
I, we had to both jump sideways to avoid being run down
by her as she zoomed off in the direction of the dance
floor. As she passed in between us, she said, "Well
come-on girl. I hope you can walk quickly in those
shoes you're wearing."
Alan rose to his feet, and as he walked around the
table, he slipped his arm through mine, and said, "You
heard her. We'd better keep up."
We followed her down and around a few corridors, and
then we arrived at a private room. She waited for Alan
to unlock it, and then we both followed her in. It was
laid out with the furniture of an office, with desk and
chairs. But over to one side was a large chesterfield
leather couch. Unlike last time, Alan immediately began
to takeoff his clothes, and as he did so, he folded
them up neatly and carefully laid them on the desk. I
was about to ask if I should do the same, when his wife
said, "Well come-on girl. Lets see what you've got that
he finds so irresistible."
So I also began to strip, but unlike previous
occasions, stripping in front of strangers; having his
wife present, completely subdued any feelings of
arousal. Once he was naked, he sat himself on the
couch; his wife had parked her wheelchair by the desk,
so she was towards one end of the couch, giving her a
clear view of any activity that might take place on
there. I lowered my knickers, the last piece of my
clothing, and placed them with my other clothes on the
desk at the side of Alan's. Then as I turned to face
where he sat, I could see he already had an erection,
and he was using his right hand to slowly stroke his
shaft. I walked across, and knelt down in front of him,
and then taking over from his hand, I continued to
stroke his cock, whilst my other hand cupped his
scrotum.
As I put my face down to his groin, and began to lick
under his balls, I heard his wife's wheelchair begin to
move. From the sound, it appeared to be coming closer
to me, but maybe slightly behind where I knelt. Then I
heard a buzzing noise, this I instantly associated with
a vibrator of some kind. Almost immediately, my
thoughts were confirmed, as I felt the vibrations in
the valley of my pussy. It was at first cold, and
slightly disconcerting; especially knowing it was his
wife who was wielding the instrument. But gradually
over the next few minutes, as I attended to his
throbbing cock in my hand, and occasionally my mouth,
coupled with the sensations her pussy toy began to
generate, I felt my tummy begin to flutter. From this
point on, I guess his wife was just part of my
stimulation, and my inhibitions about her being the
same sex as me, or even being the wife of the man I was
about to have sex with, just disappeared from my
conscious thought.
So very soon, I can feel the big bulbous end of the
dildo probing my hole, and instinctively, I heave back
onto it. His wife speaks, but although I hear her
words, I take no notice, "My, she is keen to get her
cunt filled."
The dildo works its way into my pussy, and it is a big
one. I haven't yet seen it, but the way it's stretching
my pussy as she pushes it deeper, I know it must be
about the size of Alan himself. She works it quite
skillfully, and my pussy is almost fooled into
believing it is a real cock. But I know different, and
even if I'd forgotten, Alan's next comment to his wife
would have reminded me.
"You've got her cunt working; now see if you can get
her bottom to take it."
I by now had my head over top of Alan's cock, and I was
busy thrusting my face down into his groin, forcing his
cock deep into my windpipe. As I felt the big bell-end
of the dildo slipping along the crevice of my bottom,
and come to rest at my hole, I momentarily stopped my
head movements, and braced myself for the pain. But I
guess a combination of factors must have all combined
to turn the entry of this massive phallic, from the
inflictor of pain I'd expected, into the supplier of
elation. One of the factors was it wasn't my first anal
intrusion. But more so was the expert way his wife had
worked my arousal, and the also expert method she used
to tease the dildo into my hole, working around in
circles until my bottom was almost craving for it to
enter.
She must have taken a good five minutes nudging around
before she actually eased the bell-end in. But once
inside, and she'd found the depth to which it would
penetrate, she began to pound it in and out. This
rhythmic sensation must have taken over the movement of
my head, and in lest than a minute of her action, my
head movements had brought forth his first load of cum;
which was delivered directly into my throat.
By now I was almost going wild, my hips were bucking
and I knew my pussy pouting would be visible. I heard
words taking place between Alan and his wife, but what
they said I don't know; it was as if it was someone
talking over a dream sequence. But Alan manoeuvred me
onto the couch, and lay me on my back. As he got into
position in between my legs, he lifted them high in the
air, and then as his body loomed over mine, he took my
ankles down to the couch alongside my shoulders. This
position lifted my pussy almost vertically upwards, and
as he proceeded to lunge his cock down into it, his
wife continued to shaft my bottom, which was, of
course, lifted up clear of the couch.
The two of them pounded me until I could hold my climax
no longer, and I felt my pussy begin to spasm, the look
on Alan's face was almost one of horror. He obviously
wasn't at the point of ejaculation, and as he'd been on
a withdrawal stroke as my pussy contracted, I think he
must have thought it was trying to bite his cock off!
But as this was only momentary, and then it dilated
with a flush of pussy juice, it only required him to
time his strokes with my pussy action, to enable him to
keep pumping whilst I heaved away on auto-pilot. And
although due to my heightened state of arousal, I
wasn't actually aware of him cumming, he did reach a
climax, and then his wife immediately removed the
dildo, leaving me still writhing in ecstasy.
When I came back to normality, Alan had already
showered in the on-suite bathroom, and once they
directed me to do the same, they both left. I did my
best to make myself presentable, and then returned to
the dance floor. The ballroom was almost empty, just a
few waiters cleaning down tables, and Gerry, Peter and
Trav all sitting patiently together at the same table.
As I approached, they all rose to their feet, and as I
arrived at the table, they escorted me out of the
ballroom and out to the waiting car. There were very
few words spoken, it was as if nobody knew what the
correct words were after an event of that type. But
gradually, on the journey back home, they did begin to
make conversation, and it was Gerry who first broached
the subject of a three man sex session.
He was sitting next to me, and he turned and asked, "Do
you remember saying you felt you owed Trav a favour on
the night of that first dance contest?"
"Yes. But I'm sure by now he knows how grateful I was."
"That's as maybe, but you also said you owed Peter a
favour, and if I remember rightly you actually offered
to let him take you to bed."
"So what if I did? That was weeks ago."
"And being as I'm your husband, don't you think that
gives me the right to have sex with you?"
"Look Gerry! What's all this leading up to?"
"Its like this, before that old bloke Alan came across
to our table, we'd already disgust the idea of giving
you a bit a of a gang bang."
"Who disgust? And why wasn't I even asked anything
about it?"
"Don't get your knickers in a twist. We were just about
to see what you thought of the idea, when the old bloke
came up and tried to buy you for the night."
"Well I'd have said no."
"Why?"
"I'm surprised you have to ask. What makes you think
I'd agree to letting the three of you do that to me?"
"Well you seemed pretty happy with two men fucking you
at the same time, why should one more be any
different?"
I didn't answer, but as I sat there thinking, I came to
the conclusion maybe he was right; what difference
would one more man make. It was then we arrived at
Trav's home, and we let him out of the car. It only
took a few minutes more before Gerry and I were dropped
off at our house. As we lay in bed together, after
making love, I turned and asked him, "Do you want me to
have sex with Peter and Trav?"
"Well you've already given Peter the offer, so if he
feels he wants to take you up on it, it would be wrong
to back out now. And you and Trav are getting on well
at that dancing lark, so I just thought, it might keep
him keen. And even I'll admit, both Peter and Graham
hit the nail on the head when they said no one man
could keep up with your needs in bed."
I didn't know whether to take that last comment as a
slur, and I said, "Are you saying I'm a nymphomaniac?"
"No. But let's face it; you don't get as excited when
we have sex on our own as you do when there are other
men involved."
"Maybe not. But that isn't because I don't love you."
"Nobody said it was. But you know you get more pleasure
when you're really excited?"
"I still like our love making best."
"Maybe in one way you do, but I've never made you cum
the way you do when you are with other men. Is it
because my dick isn't big enough?"
"No. You're plenty man enough for me. It's just, I
don't know; maybe the danger, or wickedness of doing it
with someone you shouldn't."
"Please don't think I'm a slut. But when I'm out with
one of these men who've paid all that money, even
before they touch me, my body is on fire. Its not love.
It's something to do with knowing I'm not in control.
They've paid, and I can't refuse; no matter what kind
of sexual act they want to perform. So by the time they
do touch me, I just loose control. It's almost like
it's not me. Like I'm an actress, just playing a part.
Oh I can't explain."
"So if it isn't you? And you know you'll get aroused
and enjoy it. Why don't you like the thought of letting
the three of us gang bang you?"
I thought long and hard, not knowing if I dare tell him
the truth. Then I said, "If I tell you, promise you
won't think badly of me?"
"I can't promise that. But now you've said that much,
you have to tell me what you mean."
"I don't like it when you're in the room, because
you'll see how I behave. I know I go berserk, but I
don't feel ashamed in front of someone else. Whereas in
front of you, I feel I'm letting you down."
"Ok I'll be honest with you. That time when I watched
you with Graham, and he thought he was humiliating me,
wanting me to join in. I was so turned on watching you;
I couldn't wait to get at you. You weren't my wife, and
like you've just said; I wasn't me. It was weird, but I
enjoyed fucking you more that time than any other time
I can ever remember."
We both held each other and kissed until we drifted off
to sleep.
I guess it's about time to bring the tale of my
downfall to a close, the little gang bang was
organised, and took place. And I'd be telling a lie if
I said I hadn't enjoyed it. And I'm sure all three of
my studs also had a good time. Over the next few months
leading up to the TV appearance, I saw both Alan and
Francis several times, and as Gerry had predicted, they
always paid well. None of these sessions with Alan
included his wife, and all of them followed broadly the
same direction as my first meeting with him. Not all of
them involved going dancing, but on every occasion, we
dined in public, and he behaved as one would expect a
real gentleman to behave. My relationship with him is
still on going, some seven years on, and he is still
one of my favourite clients.
Francis kept up his pretence of me being his daughter
for nearly three years, and in all that time he never
so much as put his hand on my breasts, or up my skirt.
I did however get into a situation one night when out
with him, and after that, he never contacted Peter
again. Well if he did, it wasn't to solicit my
services. The incident happened one evening, while we
were staying the weekend with friends of his in a big
country house. This was quite normal for his sessions,
and usually he'd just be bathing in the reflected glory
he perceived came from his daughter (me), once being a
dancer on TV, and the half-a-dozen or so adverts I'd
later appeared in.
This weekend, one of the other guests, the house
owner's son, had been hitting on me all evening, and I
could tell Francis didn't like me getting this kind of
attention. I did my best to keep the gentleman at a
distance, without causing offence. These were upper-
class gatherings, and I could hardly just tell him to
go and take a running jump. It was somewhere around
eleven in the evening, and I was returning from a visit
to the bathroom. As I walked along the hallway, and
just before I emerged into the large central reception
hall, a door to my left side opened, and out stepped
Jason. This was the man I'd just mentioned, the house
owner's son; a man in his mid thirties.
He had almost jumped from the room, and stood
motionless directly in front of me. I froze for a
second, and then stepped sideways to my right as I
said, "Oops. I'm sorry, I nearly bumped into you."
He didn't speak, and his face didn't show any sign of
emotion, but as I'd moved, the door to my right opened,
and Ian, one of Jason's friends stepped out, blocking
my escape in that direction.
I tried to make light of the situation, and again said,
"Oops. Silly me. I seem to be getting in everybody's
way."
Jason spoke, calmly and slowly, "Can we interest you in
a game of billiards?"
This wasn't the kind of comment I'd expected, and I
just answered with the first thing that came into my
head, "Err. No, I don't think so. For one thing, I've
no idea how to play, and anyway, I'm no good with games
that involve balls."
"That does surprise me. But even if you're no good,
surely as a guest in my house, you'll indulge me by
letting me show you how the game is played?"
I felt as if saying no would be tantamount to an
insult, so reluctantly, I turned and walked into the
room on my left, the one Jason had just stepped out
from.
The room was well lit, but the big green covered table
in the middle of the room had its own set of lighting,
and it almost glowed. Around the room were four more
men, all about the same age as Jason, and as I entered,
they all began to gather around the big table. As Jason
and Ian entered behind me, Ian closed the door, and
ominously, I then saw him turning the key, obviously
making sure they weren't going to get disturbed. Jason
picked up on the look of concern on my face.
"Don't look so worried, he's left the key in the lock,
so its not you who is being locked in, just unwanted
guests who are being locked out."
Then one of the others, whose name I didn't know
quipped, "Maybe that's why she's worried. Maybe she
wants her daddy to hold her hand while she plays with
your balls."
Jason then looked my way and asked, "Are you going to
do that for me?"
I could tell he was trying to embarrass what he thought
was a naïve unmarried daddy's girl. And although it was
obvious to me what balls he was talking about, I still
felt I had to keep in character. After all, I was being
paid handsomely by Francis to do just that. So I tried
to answer according to my character, "I think your
friend is right. Even though I know I won't be any good
at this game, I bet daddy will be able to show me how
to play."
This brought a general round of laughter, as if they
all thought me to be very gullible.
Jason said, "No need for daddy's help, let me explain
the basic idea. You see on the table three balls."
"Yes."
"And you see at each corner, and one each side, there
are holes; six in all."
"Yes. It's the same as the snooker table on the TV. Pot
Black."
"Good girl. Yes the table is the same, but snooker is
played by the hoypaloy. Billiards is a refined
gentleman's game."
"I see."
One of the other men then interjected with, "Looks like
she'll learn quite quickly."
Jason continued, "So up to now, we've got balls, and
holes."
Now at this point he took hold of a cue from the rack
on the wall, and held it by the pointed end, "This end
has a tip, and it is this end that hits the ball."
Then he swivelled the cue around, and held it by the
thick end, about a couple of foot along its shaft. Then
with his other hand, he used his first finger and thumb
to circle the shaft, as if he was about to wank it. And
as he began to slowly slide his hand back and forth
along this thick end, he continued, "This is the end
you hold, it's called the shaft. Now remember that.
It's important."
Then he placed the cue on the table, and as he turned
back towards me, "So all clear then? You know how to
play now?"
"Well not really, what is the idea of the game? Which
ball do I hit, and which one do I try to get in the
holes?"
Ian was stood on the other side of me, and he said,
"Maybe this game is a bit too difficult for her. Why
not try the simplified version?"
Jason then asked, "Would you prefer that?"
I just wanted to get this all over with, and thinking
that by now, Francis would be wondering where I'd got
to; I replied, "I think that might be a good idea."
"Ok for this version of the game, we just use one hole.
And there will be lots of balls, but all you do with
them is to hold them, two at a time. Ok?"
Now stupidly I actually believed he was really
describing a game on the table, but I still couldn't
think what the object of the game was, so I asked.
"Ok, I hold the balls two at a time, does it matter
which hand I use?"
"No, use either or both."
"And then what?"
"You remember I told you about the shaft?"
"Yes."
Then thinking it might impress him, and still not
realising what his game was, I said, "It's the thick
end of that stick on the table."
"Good girl. Now for the point of the game. All of us
men have a shaft and two balls; we'll hold our shafts
in our hands, and you'll be up on the table."
He didn't pause here, but it was at this point I began
to smell a rat.
"As we circle in front of you, you can then choose who
will be the first one to put his shaft in the hole,
while you hold his balls."
Even though I knew my character might have been
innocent enough to wonder what on earth they were
talking about, I certainly wasn't. But I didn't know
how to react. What would Francis want me to do?
I decided to try to follow little miss gullible as far
as I could, even though I knew either way, I'd have to
take a gang fucking, or cause a major upheaval. So
acting like an idiot, I asked, "How do I get onto the
table?"
Nobody answered with words, but I suddenly had hands
lifting me from all areas of my body, and in seconds I
was sat up there under the bright lights. I'd let my
legs fall flat to the table, and they were held close
together. Also, during the lift, someone had removed
both my shoes, which made sense with the lovely green
baize cloth covering the table.
Jason asked, "Are you comfortable?"
"It's a bit hard, but it's ok."
"Oh; one other thing. See the little semi-circle behind
you?"
Still sitting, I turned and looked, "Yes."
"Well your little bottom should be sat just there."
I shuffled myself back, and sat in the semi-circle."
"Good. Now, your heels should slip into the pockets at
either side of the table."
Still being miss innocent, I began to open my legs, but
the stretch to these pockets was a lot further than I'd
expected, and by the time my heels touched the pockets,
my legs were at full stretch, and my bottom had slid
down the table some what. (I'm not sure just how wide
that table was, but I've since been told, they come in
widths up to six feet!)
To attain this position, I'd had to let my arms fall
behind me, to support my weight as I'd lent backwards.
Also my dress was fully flared, and just above knee
height. Perfectly respectable in normal circumstances,
but in this position, it was obvious my open crotch
would be on full display.
I felt, even if I kept in character; I'd have to say
something.
"Surely this can't be right? Daddy wouldn't like me
sitting here like this with you all looking up my
dress."
Jason instantly; and I felt somewhat excitedly,
replied, "Never mind daddy. We won't tell him. And
don't forget, you are in my house, and it would be rude
not to indulge me."
"Ok. But what happens now?"
As I asked the question, I felt hands all around
simultaneously restraining both hands and feet. Then
directly afterwards, I could feel on my hands, and see
on my ankles, men were binding them with ropes to the
pockets of the table.
"Please. I don't like it. What are you going to do?"
"There was no answer, but all the men were now
stripping naked, and in no time, they were all gathered
around, and hands began to stroke my legs. Men not
stroking me, were mostly stroking their own cocks, and
getting them ready for action. Men from either side
began to open the top of my dress, and soon my breasts
were being fondled. It would have been pointless me
attempting to resist, but my body being what it is,
once they'd started this fondling, even if I'd wanted
to resist, it would have been futile. As my hips began
to lift, and my pussy to pout, I heard someone say,
"She's no virgin. And neither is her arse. Just look,
both holes are begging for a fucking."
Jason replied, "You're fucking right. Come on get her
untied. I'll bet she'll fuck without even being held."
So that was it, they just untied me, and as each one
mounted, I fucked. What I hadn't realised, was that
somewhere along the road, once Jason had had his fuck,
he'd gone back to the main room and started to talk to
Francis. When Francis had asked him if he'd seen his
daughter, he'd said, "No, but if you want, I'll come
with you and help you look for her."
He'd then led Francis into the billiard room, where I
was on top of one man, with another fucking for all he
was worth up my bottom. Of course, by now I was in full
swing, making all kind of crude noises, calling for as
much cock as they could give me, and there was no sign
I'd been coerced into the situation.
On the way home I'd tried to explain to Francis, but he
wouldn't even let me speak. The next day I explained at
length to Peter what had taken place, but in the event,
Francis never called for my services again. Peter did
however get calls from several of the men who'd been
involved, somehow they managed to find out Peter was my
pimp. But as Peter didn't know too much about the
reliability of these men, he'd declined all advances
from them.
During the period before my first TV appearance, Trav
and I won two of the remaining four preliminary
competitions, and even became secret lovers for a short
period; but that only lasted a month or so. He was too
jealous of my part time job.
The TV show began, and we lasted five weeks into the
series before we were voted off. The TV exposure
brought with it a certain amount of fame, in total
maybe ten or so chat shows. But I guess I didn't really
have enough experience of life, or enough personality
to break into the big time. Peter then began to find
some legitimate advertising work, and this in itself is
maybe worthy of a little more investigation. These
adverts may be as he claimed legitimate, but they are
not as innocent as you might first think.
The first of these adverts I was engaged for was
something as simple as sausages. The main drift of the
advert was to impress on the punter, how fresh and
nourishing the ingredients used to make the sausages
were. It was to start with me running down a meadow
towards a stream. Crossing the stream via stepping
stones. Then running through a field of waving corn.
Then entering the farmyard gate, and taking a bucket to
feed first the pigs, and lastly the beef cattle. The
last part would be me cooking the sausages in two
different pans, and dishing it out to four men seated
around a big farmhouse kitchen table. They would then
all be smiling, and saying how good they taste. Simple
enough you might think, and certainly nothing sexy
involved. You'd be wrong. The first thing that I
thought strange was that although there were six girls
up for the job; I was the only one there on the day of
my audition. I later found out they only do one
audition a day. I can only speak for my own experience,
but I assume all the other girls were treated in a
similar fashion.
I was asked into a room where the men with the
influence, six of them, were seated in low arm chairs,
positioned in a semi-circle at the far end. Behind them
were several spot-lights to make sure the hopefuls were
well illuminated.
As I walked in, the light intensity was so bright; I
could hardly make out who or how many people were
actually in the room. As I raised my hand to shade my
eyes, a voice said, "No my dear. What's the point in us
having lights to show-up your face if you're going to
cover it up."
Then, even though I couldn't actually see the man who
was talking, I could tell by the tone and change of
note, he must have been looking from side to side and
talking to the other men on the panel.
"My god! Where do they find these girls? She looks as
if she's never been in front of a camera before."
Another voice answered him, "I know where she's come
from. She's the one off the TV dance program, the one
with the legs that reach all the way up to her tush."
The first voice again spoke, "My god, you're right. I
should have bloody recognised her. I'm the one who
asked for her to audition. I can't wait to see her
panties up close. Come on then girl; stand on that big
white cross marked on the floor. And then let's see
that crotch."
I walked forwards until I stood above the white cross,
and I could just about make out the chairs in a semi-
circle, but not the faces of the men sitting in them.
I gathered from the man's remark, his lasting
impression of my TV performance, was nothing to do with
all the hard work rehearsing dance steps and footwork.
It was like most male viewers, just the occasional
swings in the air, with my legs wide open, and more
likely, the final pose the dance ends with. In all of
these staged moves, I'd invariably end the dance,
motionless with me, in various poses, but invariably
with legs wide open. But, of course, the underwear,
knickers in particular, were designed to give absolute
coverage. Even if sometimes, the layers of different
coloured material might on first glance give a riskay
impression. In other words, the knickers would be made
full width, in flesh coloured material, with a dress
coloured, or contrasting material overlaid. Thus giving
the impression of a narrow gusseted pair of knickers.
So here I am being auditioned for a sausage commercial
on mainstream TV, and the first thing the man wants to
see is me posing in a position where he can see my
knickers.
"How exactly do you want me to pose?"
"Any way you like, so long as we get a good look at
your crotch."
As I've mentioned before, the dance underwear allows
such poses, whilst still giving screening from actual
nakedness. But I was dressed in a normal thong, not the
micro variety, but still too skimpy to display myself
with open legs.
"But I thought this was an audition for a TV
commercial?"
"It is. And if you get the part, it pays good money. So
let's have a look at your crotch."
"Can I go back to the dressing room and find some
suitable underwear?"
A different voice answered, but not the voice of the
other man earlier, "Not much point my dear. If you want
the job, you'll be taking your knickers off, no matter
how much they cover."
I stood there, not knowing if I should comply, or just
leave. And then came a voice I recognised, "Come on
Mary, nobodies going to hurt you."
It was Peter's voice!
So he'd got me the audition, and he was actually one of
the men in the room. It then just became obvious, that
this was what I'd have to do to break into the
advertising market. As you might expect, once they'd
all seen the goods, they were soon handling them, and
then went on to sample as much as they could manage. So
now you can see why they can only do one audition a
day. After letting them all fuck me, I got that job,
but on several subsequent auditions, even after taking
a gang fucking, all I got was a 'thanks for coming'. Or
should that be cumming?
I won't go into detail about the various adverts I
filmed, as this would take forever, and although during
these film shoots, they filmed a lot more than was
necessary for the commercials, there was never any
actual sex activity as such. Well I guess that brings
my tale to an end, I've been whoring now for seven
years, and apart from three or four of my long standing
regulars, I have now just about retired. We have enough
money invested to live off the interest. Not I hasten
to add, wild extravagant living. But we own a modest
six bedroom house in the country. So while Gerry spends
most of his time playing golf, I'm occupied as the vice
chairwoman of our local women's institute. (Rather an
apt title for me don't you think?)
And just to complete the full circle, this tale all
started with my husbands freebies, and I've told you I
still have four other men in my life as well as my
Gerry. One is of course Peter, who never paid me for
sex all through our relationship. The second is Alan,
now at almost seventy years of age, and his wife has
passed away. But I still visit him for sex once a
month, only now it's free of charge, and he still
manages to ring my bell. Next is Olaf, I've set him up
in his own business as a bodyguard, come escort. He's
doing well for himself, but he visits me every couple
of weeks. I sometimes joke I should be paying him; but
by now we are just old friends, who fuck like rabbits
every time we meet. Even Gerry has come to terms with
my voracious appetite for other men.
But man number four, you might guess would be Trav, but
no, I haven't seen or heard from him for years, he
never liked the thought of me going with men for money.
So who is my other lover? I should be ashamed to
divulge this, but all I can say in my defence was it
started in all innocence. That is if you can call
attending a male only party as the entertainment, and
knowing you are there to first dance provocatively, and
then fuck with the ten male guests. Well I call that
innocent; because that was the kind of thing I did to
earn my money. What I didn't know was the event was
some kind of mock pagan ritual, where all the men would
be wearing face masks, and hooded cloaks.
As I arrived the butler showed me to a side room, and
left me there with a white dress and appropriate skimpy
underwear to change into. But there was also a mask for
me to wear. Once I joined the men, I danced my dance,
they all walked around me in a circle, chanting, and
then it was just every man for himself. They began
stripping me, and fucking or fingering every available
part of my body. And although it was only a minute or
so before my mask was removed, most men kept theirs on.
I didn't know my brother was one of the men until the
next day when he called at our, then newly acquired,
country house.
His first reaction was scathing abuse, "You fucking
whore."
Were the words that greeted me as I opened my new big
front door. It took a while, but after an hour or so
explaining to him how it had all started, I then
plucked up the courage to say something I'd wanted to
say since his first outburst on my doorstep.
"So now you know why I was there. Tell me this, my mask
wasn't in place for long; so unless you were the first
man to have me, you must have known who I was?"
"Don't go trying to make me out to be the one in the
wrong. You were the one selling yourself."
"I know that. And why not, it's my body to sell. Why
should I be ashamed? But that doesn't explain you doing
the same as all the others. And even if it hadn't been
me, you still knew you were going to a fake ritual, to
have sex with a girl who was being paid. What would
Tania (His wife) think of that?"
"Jesus Mary! You wouldn't tell her?"
"You know I wouldn't. I don't even speak to her unless
I have too. But don't you go looking down your nose at
me. My husband knows what I do, and he's man enough to
handle it. Now unless you've got anything more to say,
I think you might as well leave."
So you might think I wouldn't be seeing much of him
again; and you'd be wrong. We walked to the door, and
as he was about to leave, he turned and held me. I'd
expected a brotherly kiss, kind of an apology. But even
if he meant it to start that way, within seconds his
tongue was in my mouth, and as he held me close to
himself with one arm, his other hand was pushing up
under my skirt, and into my crotch. I promise I did try
to fight him off. But not aggressively, with scratching
and kicking, just trying to push him away, not wanting
to hurt him. But what ever excuses I make, the result
was the same, with my front door still wide open; he
fucked me on the floor, in the hall. If I tell you he
took me to heaven and I lost control, I'm sure you
won't be surprised. But when I then admit, we closed
the front door, and spent the next three hours in my
bed, fucking in every conceivable position, you'll
realise just how wicked I really am.
So that's it, I'm now Mrs. respectable, living in
style, and being fucked regularly by husband, brother,
ex-pimp, ex-client, and last but with a cock as big as
his, definitely not least, Olaf, my friend.
END
Thanks for reading, and please feel free to email me at
Lord_John_Thomas@hotmail.com
It is only the feedback from readers that make the
effort of writing worthwhile, and I will answer all
mail received (eventually). To ensure I accept your
mail, make sure your mail has 'Story Feedback' as a
subject, all other mail to this account is deleted as
spam.
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 55