Just as I thought, madam, surely in the great City you’d have freak shows, same as we folk out here in the country; I knew that. But we do have something else.
Oh yes!
Only if you’re ready for it, mind.
You’re sure now?
Yes, yes, a pound is a pound, even if it is nothing these days.
All right, then, come with me.
Steady now, the floor’s a bit rocky here –
Right, if you duck under this tarpaulin here –
Sorry kids, it’s time to get showing again. Oh, moans and groans and fussing, come on, come on, you want to be fed tonight, don’t you?
Here’s a whole bunch of people come from the City of London to see you and that’s a rare long way away! Truly, sir, these are rare exhibits indeed. Few left in the world, we have the finest pair around. Grown, too, grown up in Mr Marvel’s loving care and attention.
What’s that? Oh, we found them out in the desert, we did; you know that bit around South Yorkshire area? Wild it is, wild indeed up there, sir! Oh yes, had a real job catching these two, they fought like – well, wild animals, which they were. Mr Marvel took them in, madam, treated them like they were his own pets, fed and cared for them, he did!
Now look, fine grown, they are, and ready to exhibit.
Are you going to show the visitors your tricks, Sama and Sam? Come on, you know you like it! Damn sure you like it! Or would you like a touch of this to get it up?
Get it up, madam, that thing hanging in front of Sam there, it has to get up before he can perform and sometimes it needs a touch of the whip. Training sometimes falls down. But a touch of the whip will help – like that.
Oh he do yell! Every time he yells and every time I tell him, why do you wait for me to whip you, boy? And do you know? I think it’s because he likes it.
Look how it stands up! So proud it is, so red and firm and sure.
Sama needs a touch of the whip now and then, too, see how her cheeks move when she walks, see how the skin flexes and bends with her body; oh yes, Sama likes a touch of the old whip around those fine cheeks, that she does and it don’t do her no harm at all.
No sir, it doesn’t. It makes her go all wet, so Sam here can –
Sam, now please!
See his fine upstanding cock, that’s what we call it, it’s ready, that’s why it’s standing up. See how his hands slide round those things, we call them tits, see the bits on the end, the nipples? See how they stand up and get all sort of hard and see how their mouths meet? Tongues touching, they are –
Oh sorry, madam, if you want to be sick there’s a bucket over there –
Saves cleaning the floor, you see.
See his hands on her cheeks, see how he pulls her toward him, see how she slides down his body, how she licks and touches and-
Another bucket? Sure, sure, over there, sir.
See how she takes his cock into her mouth and sucks on it?
Oh my, rare squeamish lot tonight, Sam!
Keep going, boy, you’re doing all right. They paid their money; they’ll see the show.
Okay, okay, they’re getting sick, Sam, get it in, boy, get it in! See how the cock slides into her body? See the balls, those things hanging underneath, smacking against her skin as she wraps her legs round his waist, how she loves it, oh she loves it! That’s moans of pleasure, sir, madam, moans of pleasure, that it be; I know, because I hear it often enough to know the sound and tonight she didn’t need the whip to make her do it, either!
Oh yes, it gets wild; they’ve broken a couple of beds in their time! Bang, bang they go, thumping around, thrusting that old cock clean in her cunt – oh that’s what we call that bit at the front of the ladies: cunt. You can call it a snatch but for me that don’t picture it right; cunt pictures it right.
And then he’s done, he’s brought her to orgasm. Now that’s something I cannot begin to describe to you, ladies and gentlemen, I’m told it’s a peak of pure fleeting pleasure, but I have to take their word for it; I just work here.
And then he pulls it out and look, it’s going down.
Excuse me, the exit’s that way, if you want to get out. I just need a word with Sama here.
Sama, listen, you bitch! If you come like that again I’ll whip you senseless! You’re supposed to save something for the next lot! Okay, okay, have it your own way, I’ll bring the strap with me when the next lot arrive, you can bend over for a dozen on the cheeks, my dear. Give the punters a bit extra. That’ll show you.
No, no way you’re going to get out of it now: I’ve told you and I’ve told you, pretend, fucking well pretend to fuck!
But will you listen? No, you’re like Sam here, you like a touch of the whip now and then. Now, give over with your hugging, I’ve got to get some more punters in.
Mr Marvel will want some return on his investment.
Hey, you!
Yes you; standing staring at the sign with a look – what is it? Half envy, half distaste? Overcome your scruples, come on in!
What? It will only cost you a pound, in real terms that’s nothing is it? Come on, come on, let me show you, let me guide you, let me surprise and terrify you. You can see for yourself how we used to mate …
Risk a pound, come on!
Good. I knew you would.
Ghost Of A Chance
I have to say that of all the erotic stories I have written, this one is my all time favourite, so I have placed it last, to round off the collection for you.
‘This is Marshall Gains of Comentel. Your CV was very impressive, Ms. Fordingham. I assume that you received our letter confirming you are one of the five short-listed applicants? Then be in my office at 3 p.m. tomorrow, the 31st October at 3 p.m sharp.”
No chance to confirm she had indeed received the fancy headed notepaper from Comentel pic, or that she was pleased to be on the shortlist. Robyn simply melted under the voice and the invitation which arose unspoken in her quim, soaking the Janet Reger knickers and demolishing briefly the cold core that the last man had left in her heart.
“That would be fine,” she all but croaked, covered the mouthpiece, coughed and tried again. “That will be fine.” Strong manly name to go with the strong manly voice. And a name that struck a tiny distant bell, as faint but as piercing as a temple bell somewhere. Who, what, when...? “I’ll be there. I look forward to it.”
“Thank you, Ms. Fordingham. I’ll expect you.” There was a firm finality even to the way the line went dead in her hands.
A deadline. Or it should have been but there was a vibration lingering, a sense of—something alive, something whispering, a voice not quite heard, a sense of something not quite touching—as if—as if it wasn’t in the real world but ghostly, otherworldly.
Robyn shook her head in disbelief at her own over-active imagination, laughed a little awkwardly and put the phone down.
It was hard to say why having an interview on Halloween filled Robyn with fear and dread and unaccountable butterflies. But she intended to go.
So, what to wear? And what excuse to give to get out of work at 3 p.m.?
It wasn’t that she was unhappy in her job, just frustrated. Just feeling held back by male chauvinists who thought a woman’s place was behind a word processor and not up front at board meetings and decision-taking conferences. Robyn didn’t want much: just a job where she had an office with her name on the door, two telephones, one for the building and one which linked her to the outside world and a calendar which came with clusters of appointments to keep her busy all day and every day.
Somewhere her power dressing was appreciated.
Oh, if you were adding wants to the list, add a hunky man with lust in his eyes and electricity in his fingertips, a strong body and a powerful tongue. That would go down nicely too. Ha! Go down i
s precisely what she wanted; to do and have done! She sighed, thinking once more of the last man in her life. He was good at going down and liked her to do it too but it was almost a shallow connection, it was as if something was missing. He had left her inner self totally untouched, unmelted. He had been unable to warm her by a single centigrade line. What exactly was missing, she didn’t know. What she did know was that she wanted a big strong man in her arms, in her quim, in her bed and in her life.
Think employment, Robyn! Not Lust!
Was Comentel pic the place for her? Their headed paper was impressive: gold embossed, sensuously creamy, making her long to finally give way to the irresistible urge to run her fingers over it, eyes shut, mouth open and reel sexy. Hm. Back to lust. None of it helped by the products they manufactured. Sex toys. It might add to the frustration but the job was high-powered executive Personal Assistant. To a guy who sounded hunky. Who might be good between the sheets or behind the desk or whatever...
She didn’t think she had a ghost of a chance, not really. But, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
In any event she wanted to see the owner of the voice, husky, edged with stern control over its life, the voice which said “I am in control of my life—and yours.” I make my own decisions, she thought defiantly, I am the one who controls my life! Why else would I be seeking a new, more powerful, job, one that would give me—perhaps—equal standing with the men in the business.
And yet... Someone else in control, that was something entirely new, very different and frighteningly appealing.
Marshall Gains. Who was he? Where and why did the name ring that distant temple bell?
The 31st dawned bright and clear, autumn touched with winter, the chill sharp but the sun glorious. How different it would be when the dark came down to reclaim the land for itself, when the spirits walked, when opening the door might or might not reveal bright-eyed, greedy children on the doorstep...
Robyn scolded herself. Halloween nonsense was getting to her! But still, it might be fun to sample a few superstitions that night, to find out if her one True Love was just around the corner.
She laughed, taking her smart red suit from the wardrobe, adding it to the crisp white blouse with its lace jabot, sliding dark grey high heels over pearl grey stockings, scooping up a dark grey bag and walking out to her car. She would be going on to the interview from her current job, conveniently excused for a dental appointment, but surely they would know. Who wore bright red suits to go the dentist? Unless you were having an extraction and wanted to hide the blood stains...
Spooky thoughts again, she laughed. The car started with a roar, the day had begun.
By 2.30 Robyn was a bag of nerves, unable to sit still. When impatience became sheer panic, she logged off her terminal, got up and made for the door.
“Dentist,” she reminded her work mates and noted their disbelieving smiles as she swung through the door.
The Comentel offices were everything she had ever wanted to work in. Glass, steel and marble, fronted with huge letters, glittering with winter sunshine, even the autumn leaves seemed a part of the colouring, part of the design of this huge impressive building.
Robyn walked in confidently, hoping her nerves didn’t show. The huge clock in the Reception area read 2.50. In good time.
“I’ve an appointment with Marshall Gains,” she told the receptionist, who was even more powerfully dressed than Robyn herself. Impossibly lacquered hair and equally impossible long nails without so much as a hint of a chip or a scratch on the immaculate red enamel. Robyn almost felt dowdy in comparison.
“Fifth floor.” The voice matched the looks, cool, impassive and very much in control. With what she hoped was a regal nod, Robyn walked to the bank of elevators and pressed the button.
He was standing in the corridor. Robyn almost walked into him, then stood back, aware of the hint of Kouros from his body, the hint of a smile from dark grey eyes that almost matched her shoes and lips that were severe and yet sensual. A face which was carved from the marble that graced the foyer, but exuding manliness and superiority. A face she thought she knew, but couldn’t place.
“Ms. Fordingham. So glad you could make it. Do come in.”
With a handshake as firm as the foundations, he led the way to an office which stretched out forever. If money was shown in floor space, then this firm had plenty of money.
Robyn sank into leather upholstery, accepted a crystal glass of sherry, watched as the body of her dreams walked round the desk, aware she was oozing into the new knickers bought specially for today. Dentist indeed! Then she wore comfort knickers...
“Excuse me, Mr. Gains?” She put the glass down, trying to concentrate.
“I said, you are aware Comentel makes sex toys, Ms. Fordingham?”
“Oh yes, yes, I did know. I read your brochure most carefully.”
And creamed over it in bed. But don’t hint at that. Be professional. “It would be a new sideline.”
He smiled, carefully, but it did for a fleeting second touch his yes. “You will of course appreciate that the job entails more than the usual PA requirements.” He paused. “I know you may find this highly irregular but—” He opened a drawer in the desk, produced a range of vibrators, slim, fat, smooth, ribbed, and held them out to Robyn. “I want you to demonstrate these for me.”
It was like being in a dream, an erotic and waking dream when every pulse in her body shouted YES! Because, like it or not, it had not been an invitation, but an order. As if in a trance, she eased down her now wet knickers, dropped them inelegantly on the floor, watching the rippling muscles under the precisely ironed shirt, picturing the bulge growing under the trousers. She picked up the first vibrator, twisted the end and slipped it with sure and quick fingers deep into her throbbing slit, imagining it was the cock she pictured belonging to the man who had given her an order and whom she had obeyed without question.
As the humming decreased in noise but increased in intensity, she became aware of her face blushing bright red with embarrassment as the full force of what she was really doing suddenly struck home. Never in a thousand years would she have contemplated doing something as shameful, lustful—sluttish—as demonstrating a vibrator to a man she had known all of five minutes. But she was, and with tremendous zest and enthusiasm, too.
Head back, legs apart, skirt around her waist, she stood self-conscious and yet somehow proud, thrusting the vibrators, one after the other, deep, deep inside her, gaze locked on his face which grew more lustful by the second. Was she reaching him, was he pleased with her performance, was she really in line for the job and would the job entail much of this demonstration stuff?
The sheer exhibitionism of it was an aphrodisiac too. Nearly as much as the man with the set firm lips revealing nothing of what he was really feeling and the eyes which were locked onto her but which also revealed nothing. Just as she was about to reach a screaming, body shattering orgasm, he strode around the desk and snatched the vibrator from her.
“Now you must sample the other goods we sell.” He was a tall, dignified dominant figure, full of power. Robyn was aware in a fleeting moment that she had always been the one who wanted to dominate, the powerful one. Yet here she was with a new desire, to give way, to submit, to try and please the man standing swinging what looked like a leather strap of some kind which surely could have only one application.
The feeling was calling to a part of her mostly left hidden under the blanket of power-dressed relationships, trivial, frivolous relationships that meant nothing. A part that she had, up to now, no idea really existed inside her. And in that moment she knew what she had to do. She walked over to the desk and leaned over it, stretching the red suit to its limits, knowing the skirt around her waist was displaying all, knowing he was close and could see and probably smell everything. The positions had been reversed. She was vulnerable and not pow
erful any more.
He made her wait. The air conditioning struck cool on her exposed skin. She wondered idiotically if her musky smell of arousal was masked by her perfume and if indeed it mattered to this man who had so completely taken over her body and her senses.
And also wondered idiotically and pathetically if she had made any impression on this powerful man and what she would feel if she hadn’t. Then it was too late to think any more—only feel.
“You seem to have an appreciation of the right way to behave, Ms. Fordingham. That is very good, a credit to you. Now, I should warn you that a two tailed tawse can do a lot of damage.”
She yelped as the leather made contact with her unprepared, unprotected skin. It hurt far more than she would have believed, a burning band of pure pain. So, why did she lie there and take five more stinging slaps? What force held her face down over the desk, breasts crushed behind the frilly blouse and tight jacket, the remainder of her burning with heat and probably bright red, exposed and available to his gaze? And was that moisture she felt, trickling so obviously down the insides of her thighs?
She stayed there even after he had stopped, hearing him move around, wondering what he was doing and then finding out, very soon and very painfully.
“And then there is the paddle, leather covered of course, for maximum impact,” and again a heavy dark pain radiated through her buttocks, reaching the points the vibrators had missed.
Acquiescent and totally submissive, marvelling at the need which swept over her, the desire to throw herself at his feet and demand that he take her, no, that was wrong, beg him to take her as his slave, she lay still, burning with as much embarrassment as with the strokes he was aiming at her raw, stinging cheeks, now probably scarlet as he went on delivering blow after blow, and she took it. All of it.
And the core of ice, so long a central part of her being, melted and ran down to become a burning pool of liquid which was going to explode at any moment. Just as the liquid reached boiling point, a large shapely cock rammed deep into her body, warm strong balls slapped against the reddened cheeks, powerful hands pulled at her hips, drawing her back so the plunges became stronger and harder. She cried out as they climaxed together.
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