by Roxanne Carr
'Yeah?' The man frowned up at her.
Maggie bit her lip. Supposing he laughed? Or got angry? She bent down so that she could whisper in his unadorned ear.
'I'll go outside with you for ten pounds.'
There, it was said! The man's face was a picture as she straightened and looked expectantly at him. He recovered himself quickly and she saw that the very suggestion had given him an erection.
'Ten pounds?' he repeated, to loud guffaws from his mates.
'How about me for a fiver, darlin'?' someone suggested and Maggie shuddered.
She looked back at Alexander for reassurance and blinked. The table was empty. Frantically her eyes flew round the café, but neither he nor Antony were to be seen. The bastards! How could they go and leave her here, surrounded by these grinning, leering yobs? For the first time in her life, Maggie felt true fear. It trickled down her spine and curled round her waist, lodging in the pit of her stomach.
'Let's go.'
She jumped as the man she had propositioned took her by the elbow. For a moment, she thought about running, but he was bigger than she had expected and she was hampered by her impossibly high-heels and tight skirt. Making out with a stranger in an alley was all very well when she had thought Antony and Alexander were mere yards away, but unprotected, that was a different matter entirely.
Surrounded by so many people, Maggie concluded she had best just get on with it, and trust that he would be satisfied with a quickie in the alley. She did not allow herself to dwell on what could happen if his mates followed them.
Maggie forced her legs to move as the man pushed her impatiently towards the door. She tried to close her ears to the crude remarks which followed them, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other as they reached the door.
It was cold outside and she shivered in the inadequate dress. Crossing her arms over her breasts, she followed the man down the alley at the side of the café.
'This'll do.'
He pushed her against the wall, though he wasn't rough about it. Wordlessly, she handed him the wrapped condom. He laughed shortly.
'You're a real pro, aintcha?'
Maggie remembered reading somewhere that prostitutes never kissed their clients on the lips, so when he moved towards her, she twisted her head to one side. She bit her lip as his hands roamed at will over her breasts and hips before grabbing at her hem. She heard something rip as he hoiked her skirt over her waist.
He fumbled with the waistband of her tights and she felt a ladder run down one leg as he rolled them down to her knees. Her briefs followed and she momentarily closed her eyes. He was breathing heavily now, his breath hot on her neck as he dispensed with the zip on his jeans. He didn't bother to pull them down, merely opening up the fly and slipping his swollen cock over the top of his underpants.
He swore as he fumbled with the condom, throwing the wrapper onto the ground. It swirled with the rest of the litter in the little eddies of wind which whistled round their ankles. Empty crisp packets, cigarettes butts and soft drink cans. The alley acted like a wind tunnel, the acrid smell of urine caught in its gutters.
Maggie braced herself against the damp brick wall as his cock nudged between her legs. He sighed as it found its mark and slipped up, inside her. His thrusts were hampered by his position, but he leaned both palms against the wall, either side of her head for balance, his face a mask of introverted concentration.
He gave an almost primaeval shout of triumph as he came, unconscious of Maggie's wince of pain as her tender rear was knocked against the sharp brickwork. He grinned as he withdrew, nonchalantly unrolling the used condom and throwing it to the ground.
Maggie pulled up her underwear, avoiding his eye. When he had rebuttoned his fly, he took a roll of money from the back pocket of his jeans and peeled off a ten pound note. Maggie took it, her eyes downcast. She had no choice – she hadn't brought her bag and she would need some cash for a taxi.
'Thanks darlin',' the man said, 'that wasn't bad.'
Maggie kept her eyes fixed on his legs as he turned and walked away, whistling through his teeth. As soon as he had gone, she ran her fingers through her hair and smoothed her dress. Her lower lip trembled as she fought to keep from crying with reaction. Her tights were torn beyond repair, so she quickly took them off and guiltily added to the litter in the alley. All she could think of was getting out of the alley before some smart aleck decided she might want another 'customer'.
At the entrance to the alley she glanced cautiously left and right before tottering unsteadily on her high-heels along the pavement. She could see a phone box further down the street. Hopefully there would be a directory inside so she could find a number for a taxi firm. Her heart sank as she realised she had no change.
A car slowed down as it approached her and she went cold. A kerb crawler was all she needed! Gathering all her courage, Maggie stopped walking and turned, ready to give the driver a piece of her mind. As she turned, the nearside rear door opened, as if the driver expected her to get in. She nearly fainted with relief as she bent down and saw Alexander smiling at her.
'You! You left me! How could you!'
He laughed. She couldn't believe it, he actually laughed!
'Get in Maggie, let's go home.'
She settled into the black leather seats and allowed herself to be drawn into his arms. Antony changed gear and they sped away from the café and towards the Black Orchid Club.
'Did you really think we'd abandoned you?' Alexander murmured, kissing her hair.
'Yes I did! It was horrible.'
'Were you scared?'
'Yes, I was scared. Satisfied?'
He chuckled and hugged her close.
'Ah, my Maggie, you're getting to know me so well! How could I not love you?'
Maggie closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar, warm smell of him which mingled with the richness of the leather. Less than an hour ago she had hated him with a strength that had shocked her. Yet there was no doubt in her mind now that she loved him. No matter what he asked her to do, no matter how much her mind was repulsed, her traitorous body would respond. Would do anything for him.
18
Maggie awoke to find sunlight streaming through the window. She stretched luxuriously, watching the way the sunbeams cast dappled patterns across her skin as it fought its way through the lace half curtain.
On the bedside table there was a tray laid with soft rolls and honey and a covered glass of fresh orange juice. Maggie drank the juice and spread one of the rolls with sweet, sticky honey.
She felt lazy, her limbs heavy with sleep, so she put the plate aside and slipped back down under the covers, closing her eyes. There was no clock in the bedroom, but then, it didn't matter what time it was. Today, Alexander had told her last night, she was to relax and gather her strength for the night to come.
Maggie chose to turn her mind away from what the night had in store. Alex had explained everything while he bathed her when they arrived back from the café. She had lain back in the oily, scented water and allowed the regular strokes of the soapy sponge to soothe her. Alexander's voice had been soft, almost hypnotic.
'You'll be on a raised stage, softly lit. There'll be a fur-covered platform, like a bed. The audience will be in darkness, you won't be able to see anyone. But you will be seen. Hidden cameras will film your every shiver and transfer the image onto two large projector screens. There'll be three men. Antony, Bruno and myself. You'll accept all three of us into your body, all at the same time—'
Maggie squeezed her eyes tightly shut and burrowed deeper into the pillow. She wasn't sure whether the tense, cold feeling she had in her stomach was due to fear or excitement. Alexander had told her to rest, so she concentrated on relaxing each limb in turn until she began to drift back into sleep.
Some time later she was woken by Antony's hand on her shoulder.
'Time for your work-out,' he told her and, ignoring her sleepy scowl, he pulled back the bed covers.
'Hey! I'm still tired!'
'Have a cold shower, then. I'll squeeze some more juice for you while you dress.'
Maggie hauled herself reluctantly out of the bed and headed for the en suite bathroom. Her eyes were still half closed as she fumbled for the shower taps and began to run the water. As she stepped under the lukewarm spray, she realised that she had followed Antony's instructions without question.
It confused her, this gradual slipping away of her own will and sense of purpose. She had always been a fiercely independent woman, determined to make her own way in life and absolutely against any man telling her what to do. Yet here she was, caught in Alexander's thrall, willing to dance to whatever tune he, or Antony, cared to play.
She stepped out from under the shower and towelled herself vigorously. What was the point of endless self-analysis? The truth was that she would welcome the humiliation to come, even while she dreaded it.
In the gym she worked with a single mindedness which precluded all thought. Her workaday grey cotton leotard stuck damply to her back and breasts as she pumped up and down, working her stomach muscles until they began to groan. On each machine, she pushed herself to the limit, reaching out for that plateau of pain which always precluded the rush of adrenalin, the exercise 'high' for which she strove.
Under the shower again, a hot one this time, Maggie was aware of every muscle and sinew. Her skin tingled under the sharp needles of spray, each inch of her aching pleasurably.
Alexander was waiting for her in the massage room. He smiled enigmatically at her and smoothed a pristine white towel on the couch. Maggie shed her robe unselfconsciously and spread herself, face down, on the bed. She sighed at the first touch of his fingers against her heated skin.
As always, Alexander's clever hands knew just the right amount of pressure to apply. Slick with oil, they smoothed and soothed the overworked muscles in her neck, shoulders and back until they relaxed and stopped aching. Maggie had fallen into a comfortable half-sleep when he began to work his way down her arms, to her hands. Each finger joint was manipulated in turn, the backs of her hands stroked and caressed so that the skin buzzed after he had left it.
Down the backs of her legs he went, kneading and squeezing, to her feet where he massaged the soles by thumb with firm, circular strokes. Even her toes were tingling when he had finished. Maggie made to roll over, onto her back, but Alexander stopped her by placing the flat of his hand against the small of her back.
Maggie turned her head and watched him drowsily as he went over to the locked cabinet in the corner and took out a key. She had never seen inside the cabinet before. When the double doors swung back, her eyes widened in shock. It was full to capacity with row upon row of bottles and jars, but it was the top row that kept Maggie's eyes rivetted.
Dozens of dildoes, neatly placed in size order, were ranged across the top shelf. From a tiny, finger-thin instrument on the left through every shape, colour and texture imaginable to the longest, thickest vibrator Maggie had ever seen on the far right.
Alexander glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled wickedly, his hand strayed towards the monstrosity on which her eyes were fixed. Turning his attention to the contents of the cupboard, he ran his hand along to the left, as if deliberating. Finally, he selected a slim, plain white object, about five inches long with a narrow, rubber collar around its base. Picking up a tube of lubricating cream, he relocked the cupboard and returned to the couch.
Maggie's breath hurt in her chest. The lovely, soporific mood of relaxation the massage had induced in her had all but disappeared, chased away by a churning apprehension. Now her mouth felt dry, her throat parched. Yet she did not move, merely lying, acquiescent, meekly waiting for whatever humiliation he chose to impose upon her.
He didn't speak to her at all, merely easing a soft, towelling covered cushion under her stomach, so that her bottom was raised up slightly. Gently, he parted her thighs so that the pink, tight rose of her anus was presented to him. Maggie squeezed her eyes tightly closed, anticipating the violation of this, her most private of places.
So when his newly oiled palms travelled again up the length of her spine, Maggie sagged with relief. This time he concentrated on the small of her back, the effect of his fingers penetrating deeply into the muscles, relieving all her aches and pains. She sighed, stretching from her toes, up through her calves to her thighs.
Curiously, the angle at which Alexander had tilted her pelvis made the sensual impact of the massage more intense. She could feel the effects deep in her stomach, as if the movement he was creating on the surface of her skin were travelling in little ripples right through her body.
She realised, suddenly, that she was aroused. Merely by the touch of his fingers on her lower back, she had grown wet, her sex-lips swelling and parting in delicious anticipation. He must have been able to see her shorn labia protruding between her buttocks, glistening now with the evidence of her desire.
She moaned softly as he turned his attention to her raised, upturned buttocks, kneading and shaping them, spreading her cheeks further apart before pressing them together again, then repeating the process. Shamelessly, she hollowed her back and thrust her bottom higher, urging him silently to delve into her aching cleft.
The first touch of his fingers against her tender inner skin sent little shockwaves zipping down the insides of her thighs and curling round her belly. His breath was warm as he kissed the tender place behind her ear and trailed his cool lips round to the nape of her neck. She shivered as he found the sensitive spot at the base of her skull at the same time as his seeking fingers reached the hardening bud beneath its sheltering hood.
Maggie's buttocks writhed with a will of their own as he stroked the eager nub with the tip of one finger. His touch was featherlight, unbearably so, and she tried to grind herself down on him to bring about her release. He laughed softly in her ear and maintained that frustrating, ticklish pressure until she was panting softly, on the edge of orgasm.
She groaned, almost crying as he moved his attention upwards, past the slippery gateway of her womanhood, smearing her warm honey up along the crease between her buttocks. He circled the tip of his finger around her reluctant sphincter, working in her feminine juices so that she felt hot and slick with moisture.
Trying unsuccessfully to obtain release by rubbing herself against the towelling, Maggie welcomed the intrusion of his finger as he slowly slipped it inside her anus. The friction he caused as he worked it in could be felt in the deeper recesses of her vagina and Maggie found herself opening up wider, inviting him deeper into her body.
She could have wept when he suddenly withdrew, leaving her feeling curiously empty. There was a sudden, cold sensation between her buttocks and she realised he had applied a generous amount of lubricating cream to her crease. He rubbed it carefully into her skin, working it into her tight little hole, stuffing her with it. She gasped as she felt the hard, plastic tip of the dildo push against her forbidden orifice, crying out as it slipped inside her.
Alexander ignored her shocked exclamation, working it in deeper and deeper until she felt the rubber collar at its base against her heated skin. Maggie felt stretched. She bit her lip as Alexander helped her into a sitting position and the object moved inside her.
'Supposing it goes right in?' she asked in sudden panic.
'It can't,' he assured her calmly, 'don't worry. Besides, tonight it will be removed and replaced by the real thing. Would you like to see how pretty you look?'
He brought her a mirror and made her spread her legs so that her swollen, unsatisfied vulva came into view. The collar of the dildo was clearly visible between her bottom cheeks. Maggie was shocked to realise that he was right, though 'pretty' was not the word she would have used. 'Lewd' was probably more accurate.
She had a sudden, urgent desire to relieve the burning ache which had been building between her legs. She turned her eyes to him, pleadingly. He raised his eyebrows at her.
'
Please . . .?' she whispered.
He smiled.
'Yes, Maggie, you may come now.'
She found her clitoris with her middle finger and pressed it firmly. Alexander held her as she rubbed it back and forth and, within seconds, she climaxed. She threw back her head and cried out as she was overcome and Alexander kissed her hair. Afterwards, he helped her dress, handling her with infinite tenderness.
A few minutes later she arrived in the apartment to find Antony about to serve lunch. He glanced approvingly at the tight jeans which moulded her buttocks and the soft curve of her pubis.
'Comfortable?' he asked as she sat down and she blushed.
Of course, he would know what had happened. Alexander told him everything. The dildo lodged in her anus was a constant reminder of the evening to come as she ate fresh tagliatelle and creamy sauce, washing it down with mineral water.
'No wine for you,' Antony told her sympathetically as he had poured a glass for himself. 'Alex wants all your faculties intact tonight. Wine would only blunt your perceptions.'
Maggie nodded dutifully, hiding a shiver. Perceptions of what? Pain? Degradation? Or merely the demonstration of the absolute power these two charismatic men now held over her?
The costume she was to wear for the night's performance was sheer kitsch, surely chosen specifically to heighten her sense of having been brought low. Maggie fingered the miniscule black leather brassiere gingerly. It was lined with the softest fur and was designed to emphasise her assets rather than cover them. Her soft, brown-tipped breasts were gathered up by it, spilling over the top in wanton abandonment.
It seemed she was to wear nothing else but a pair of thigh-high, black leather boots with impossibly high heels. As she pulled them on she noted the way the soft, supple hide caressed her shapely calves and moulded the slender length of her thighs. Her naked, shaven sex looked shockingly pink against the stark black of the leather which reached almost to the join of hip and thigh.
Turning around, Maggie saw that the deep cuffs at the top of the boots were cut to a gentle curve so that they emphasised the shape of the round, white globes of her bottom, showing it off to perfection. If she stood with her feet slightly apart, she could see the pink rim of the dildo embedded in her anus.