by Ashley Ladd
Stacey would eat her words.
* * * *
Stacey couldn't eat. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't drag her thoughts away from the graphic images of Brand screwing all those twits. Against her better judgment, she kept visiting Brandon's internet site for another peek. The views became longer and longer until she admitted that she was obsessed. She was as wanton a whore as all those women he shagged.
To her shame, she wanted that cock inside her again, filling her, moving around, and bringing her to climax. She wanted to feel his warm lips all over her body, eating her pussy, playing with her clit, and suckling her nipples. She wanted his seed to fill her, to gush from her pussy down her legs and flood their sheets. She wanted to hear his tender voice whisper undying love in her ear.
Snorts burst from her lips. “Get real, girlfriend. He doesn't love you anymore—if he ever did. You killed any love. Get over him."
As much as she admonished herself, as much as she told herself she was crazy for wanting the man she'd driven off, she couldn't get him out of her mind. Worse, she couldn't get the image out of her mind of his cock ramming into other pussies. Of course, in the abstract, she'd known he'd date other women, probably eventually remarry and do the deed. But she'd never expected to see it in living Technicolor, splashed all over the world wide net. God, her parents could tune in and see it. She'd die of embarrassment.
"Whatever possessed you to go so far? This can't be about me.” No one in their right mind would carry revenge so far. Would they?
It wasn't as if he'd rubbed it in her face. He hadn't uttered a word about his new pursuits. He didn't know she'd found out. He probably thought she was too boring, too prim and proper to look at porn and get off on it.
Bugger!
To her horror, she was getting off on it. Her rear humped her bed as she held the warm laptop propped on her knees as she lay in the sanctuary of her private boudoir. Long ago, she'd hiked up her nightgown, peeled off her soaked knickers and started finger fucking herself, pretending it was Brand's big, thick cock screwing her.
The odour of her muskiness scented the room, overpowering the room's lilac deodoriser.
Her bum slid against the damp sheets as she brought herself to orgasm, screaming in the silence of her flat. Her cat, Lollipop, screeched and darted out the door, his fur standing on end.
"This isn't healthy. I need to find another man,” she muttered, staring at the ceiling.
But she didn't feel ready to move on even though she'd been divorced three and a half years and she'd thought so until she'd spied those naughty pictures.
"Lilli's nuts. There's no way he'd want me now, no way I could satisfy him or that one woman could keep him happy.” But daydreams continued to plague her. Maybe, just maybe, she was the love of his life and he would settle down with just her. Hadn't they once thought they were soul mates?
"You're fucking crazy!” She used Lilli's favourite word ‘fuck', a word she rarely used unless extremely upset.
Furious at herself, she jumped off her bed, balled up her ruined sheets and tossed them on the floor. Then she sluiced off the remnants of her guilty pleasure, dressed for the day and started a load of laundry.
"I've got to get that man off my mind. Maybe it's time to find Mr. Goodbar.” But she wasn't the pub-going type. She wasn't exactly the church-going type, either. So where would she meet a replacement for Brand? Someone to take her mind off her ex once and for all?
Forcing one foot in front of the other, she trudged to the tube and shouldered her way onto the crowded car. Listless, she clung to the overhead loop as all the seats were taken. Even on dreary grey days, London's bustling business district usually filled her with excitement, but today, she felt like she was submerged in a deep, smothering abyss. She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to make an appearance at her ad agency. She didn't feel ‘on’ and didn't think she could come up with scintillating ad copy.
Maybe she was the dull one. That made her snort. How ironic, after she'd accused Brand of being too white bread for her tastes.
The strap of her laptop case weighed heavily on her shoulder, giving her a kink in her neck. She tried to roll out the muscle ache with no success. When she reached her destination about an aeon later, she grunted, eager to hide in the sanctuary of her office. She didn't even stop for tea. She'd take whatever sustenance the office offered today.
No one questioned that she'd brought her laptop even though it wasn't her normal MO. She had plenty of work on her office PC to keep her busy now through midnight, but she had a target she didn't dare pull up on the office computer.
A woman possessed, she closed her door and powered up both her PCs, hiding her personal one behind the big desktop model as well as she could. She turned it so that the monitor couldn't be seen from the doorway. Then she rearranged her plant so that it covered the display if anyone plopped into her guest chair as her boss was wont to do.
Feeling guilty, she surfed the net, researching Brand's new, underground world of BDSM. What she found excited and alarmed her. Mostly, it excited her.
Not once had Brand handcuffed her or strapped her to the bed. Not once had he acted as her master or been domineering in bed or out. Not once had he used any sex toys such as nipple clamps or suspension gear. She cursed him again. If he had done even one of those things, she'd bet they'd still be happily married and his cock would never have touched another pussy.
Or had he always been that way? Maybe he'd fooled around on her during their marriage? Maybe she'd done the right thing kicking him out.
Not knowing would drive her crazy. She was of a mind to march herself over to his studio, just a few blocks away if the address on the internet was correct, and demand an explanation.
"Like he'd have to answer. Right.” He didn't owe her a bleeding thing. Would she answer him if he burst into her office angry and sullen? She'd have him escorted out by security.
"No, that won't do.” She tapped her fingers on her keyboard, the tinny sounds the only noise in the room. “Why am I even thinking this? It's insane!"
Miffed at herself again, she closed her laptop and forced herself to do some honest work. But her mind wouldn't focus. Two hours later, she'd barely accomplished a thing. Annoyed, she shoved back her chair and paced, her hands linked behind her back. “This is no good. I have to do something. I have to get that man out of my head."
Lilli flashed to mind. Lilli who was a lot more interesting and up to just about any spot of mischief. Setting her lips in grim determination, she snatched up her phone and rang her friend. “Let's find Mr. Goodbar. I'm ready to be shagged."
"Whoa! What universe did I just get sucked into? This sounds like my friend Stacey, but the words can't be hers."
"Oh, yes, they are."
"Maybe her evil twin's."
"Trust me, it's Stacey. Mad, angry, crazy Stacey, but Stacey."
"Methinks I've created a monster. I should never have shown you those naughty photographs."
"But you did and so now you owe me big time. I have to get those images out of my brain before they drive me insane.” She pulled at her hair. She kneaded her forehead. She paced. Nothing eased the indigestion in her throat.
"And you think another man's cock is going to do that?"
Stacey nodded to the phone then rolled her eyes at herself. “Do you have a better idea? Doesn't one man make you forget another?"
"Only if it's the right man, and the chances of finding him in one night is like winning the lottery. Your chances of finding a serial killer, however, is much higher."
Stacey's heart fell to her stomach, and she flopped onto her chair. “Then what do you suggest, oh wise one? A mind-numbing drug? Hypnosis? Maybe we should just go tie one on. I'll stay zonkered for the next decade."
"Fuck no! That's no good, either. You'd lose that cushy job of yours, and I'd be forced to support your sorry arse. We'll end up on the dole."
Fed up, Stacey twiddled her thumbs and leaned back in her chair he
r legs stretched out. “Then what do you suggest, Obi Wan?"
"The hair of the dog that bit you.” Lilli let the words hang pregnant in the air.
Stacey had no clue what her friend meant. After several long moments, she finally asked, “Huh?"
"You need to shag that fucking ex-husband of yours. Ask him just what the fuck he's doing and get him out of your fucking system once and for all."
Stacey fell out of her chair and landed hard on her rump, a squeal bursting from her throat. She stared at the phone. “What?"
* * * *
Brandon dressed in his Dom costume, a black leather, spiked creation made just for him. He tested his whips and chains and other instruments of torture. He grunted his approval when the chain clung to the ceiling despite testing it with all his weight. Summer, his fuck for this session, would hang securely while he rammed his dick into her for the world to applaud.
He made sure his equipment was intact and in good order. The producers didn't like when they had to reroll a scene. They liked his professionalism, that he rarely had to redo a scene and that he screwed right the first time. Time meant money.
Sometimes, the schedule hummed, and he could fuck three women in a day. Then they could take the rest of the week off. This was the life. Only losers worked nine to five.
"How's it hanging, man?” Chuck asked as he passed. “Ready and roaring to go?"
Brand nodded. “Always. Who are the lucky ladies today?"
"Ladies? Listen to you. You're insatiable."
Brand spun around and with a big grin, he thrashed his whip. “Bring ‘em on. Two or three at a time. Men or women. Let's diversify. The same old stuff bores me."
"Hey, I know you're super stud, but three at a time?” Chuck shook his head. “I don't think even you can handle it. Still, I gotta hand it to you, man, for wanting to try."
'That's why I'm the star.” Brandon looked around the studio, seeking his submissive, in the mood for a blonde or a redhead with at least a set of DD's. His audience liked big boobs, and he admitted, so did he.
Letty sprinted up to them. Breathless, she doubled over and held her stomach.
Brand reached out and his fingers skimmed her elbow. “Hey, are you okay? Is the devil after you?"
The assistant slanted a fearful glance at her boss. “Summer Dawn just cancelled. She broke her ankle or something."
"Bugger!” Chuck massaged his forehead. “Then find a replacement.” ‘Duh’ hung in the air.
Letty backed away a step. She slid a fearful glance at her boss. “There are none, today. It seems stud, here, has worn them out."
Bollocks! Echoed in Brand's mind. He was ready to screw something, but moreover, this had never happened before. “I thought there was a line of women waiting for me to shag them."
Letty spread her hands wide. “Usually there is. I don't know why this is happening.” She smiled shyly. “You could always shag me again."
Chuck rounded on her, anger flashing in his eyes. “Not on film! You're the best bloody assistant I have, and I'm not going to lose you."
Brand's cock ached. He longed to find a private place to pump himself off or to get Letty alone and away from her boss who seemed in no mood to let Brand screw her. He wondered if Chuck was developing romantic feelings for his right hand woman.
He scowled. Romantic feelings only messed up things. They were a bleeding nuisance, and he was glad he'd not felt them in a hell of a long time. He didn't need the complications. His disastrous marriage had taught him that. He never again wanted to give someone that kind of power over him.
He looked at the boss man. “So, what do we do now? Production will just grind to a halt?"
Chuck slammed his fist into his hand and swore under his breath. “Give me a moment to think."
"There are always women who want to be the next porn star, who want to parade starkers on camera."
Chuck stared at him as if he was daft. He rubbed his chin. “Just how do you propose we find them? I guess I should just post a sign in the window or solicit women in the street? It's not as easy as it looks to find women who will bare it all and be shagged for the world to see. Not women of sufficient calibre, anyway."
Letty cleared her throat and pushed her glasses back on her nose. “We could make our post on the internet larger, offer more incentive. Money talks."
Brand nodded. “That's not a half bad idea. Get on it."
"I'm still the boss!” Chuck called as Brand stomped away, eager to get his rocks off.
He turned and walked backwards, facing his boss. “Call me when you're ready to film. Oh! And I get paid for today. I was here and ready to work."
"Yeah yeah. I know the rules.” Chuck's voice was displeased and contained a rough edge. His displeasure wasn't Brand's problem so he blew it off. However, his raging erection was.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Two
Lilli's words rang in Stacey's head. Should she go to Brandon? God, it would be humiliating. But what was more important? Her sanity or a little jolt to her pride?
She wavered. That ad pulsated on the internet, larger than the week before, almost screaming at her to answer it. It was like a beacon, throwing a life preserver. It called to her, hypnotising her, brainwashing her.
Almost demonic, the words chanted to her. “Become the next big porn star. Shag Tyrannosaurus Rex in front of his internet audience. Earn big money."
Blimey, it sounded so dirty, so depraved ... so enticing.
The fact she was considering it made her moan. She leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. “I can't. I absolutely can't. It's blooming crazy."
Still, the thought plagued her. It stayed with her. The little she slept, she'd awake drenched in her sweat, moaning, her finger in her pussy and moaning Brand's name.
"I hate you, Brandon! Leave me alone!"
But of course, he wouldn't let loose of his hold on her. The noose only tightened.
When she checked, the ad was still there. It still tugged at her as if it had been put there just for her.
"Okay, this means war! This has got to end.” Only she refused to be humiliated or let him know he still got to her. He'd like it way too much. It would be admitting defeat.
Finally, she figured it out. Snapping her fingers with evil glee, she yelled to herself, “I've got it! I'll wear a mask. That'll be my shtick.” If she wound up on the air, it would save her family a lot of embarrassment.
The only person she told was Lilli. She almost hadn't, but she had to confide in somebody or burst. Besides, she couldn't do this alone.
At Lilli's apartment, she mused, “What kind of mask? Catwoman's taken."
Lilli tossed her a sly smile and pulled a feathery Mardi Gras mask from her bag. “How about this? Ultra feminine but it'll cover you."
Stacey took it and turned it over in her hands. “It doesn't look very sturdy. It only covers half my face."
Lilli sighed. “This is only an example. We can have one made to our specifications. Besides, you'll need your mouth free to suck his big dick."
Heat radiating into her cheeks, Stacey slid her glance away from her mate and peered at the disguise more closely. “It could work."
Lilli jumped up and down and hugged herself. “Of course, it will. If you hadn't made me promise not to, I'd go with you. We could be a pair."
Ew! Stacey tried to school her expression not to show the flood of emotion drowning her. “But you did promise. I'm having a hard enough time with this without seeing you with Brand."
"I know, sweetie. Fuck that idea. It was a piss poor one. Forgive me, duckie?” Lilli threw herself into Stacey's arms and hugged her.
"Okay, okay! Off with you before you smother me."
Feeling off-kilter, Stacey looked down at herself and grimaced. “Who am I kidding? I'm too old and not good looking enough to do this. They won't want me. They want some young bit of stuff with tight tits..."
Lilli pulled her hair. “Fuck me! Of cou
rse they'll want you. You're gorgeous! What are you? A size six?"
Stacey pinched a roll of fat on her belly. “Four."
"Four! You're a fucking size four, and you think you're not skinny enough?"
Lilli pointed at her boobs. “What are those? Double Ds?"
Stacey frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Nope. Just plain old regular Ds."
"Regular Ds are good enough. Take it from a regular B cup, size twelve."
"Did you forget I'm 29? I'm ancient compared to those dollies ‘Rex’ is screwing."
"He's what? Thirty-two or thirty-three? I bet he's tired of those brainless bimbos. He's got to be tired of talking about Sesame Street."
Stacey couldn't hold in her snort. “Yeah, like he really talks to them. He's too busy screwing out their brains."
"He's got to get tired of that, too.” Lilli doodled on the paper in front of her.
"Who says? He's living every bloke's dream. What am I thinking? He's going to screw me one time, then I'll be fine? I'll get him out of my system, or he'll decide he's in love with me and only me and leave the porn world for true love?"
Lilli shrugged. “Stranger things have happened. He loved you once."
"Yeah, and my name's Cinderella, and I have a fairy godmother."
Lilli rose and came back a couple minutes later with two cups of tea and some crumpets. “Look, he'll never know it's you if you keep on the mask. Isn't that what you really want? A second chance to make a go of it with him?"
It hurt to think that her ex-husband, her ex-lover, wouldn't instinctively know her, but he'd probably shagged so many women now, there was no way he'd remember one from so very long ago. And yes, damn it, that's what she wanted down deep in her heart. Her stupid heart. “Well, maybe..."
"Maybe nothing! You'll regret it more if you don't do this than if you do, and you know it."
Stacey's throat worked soundlessly. She knew her friend was dead on, but it stuck in her craw to voice it aloud. “I'm going straight to hell for this."
Lilli squeezed her hand. “Don't worry, I'll be right there by your side, mate."