by Monica Belle
‘We’ve got to go, or there’s going to be an explosion.’
Sophie’s response was to nuzzle his crotch with her face, purring happily. They linked arms as we left the pub, Bobbie on his far side, which left me with Luke, as happy to watch as they were to suck his cock. It was easy for him, no pressure, and he was well full of himself, his arms around both of them before we were halfway down the High Street, and his hands on their bums before we’d got to Sophie’s flats.
I was wondering if he was going to object to Luke, but he simply ignored him, groping and kissing the girls, pinching my bum too, as we got out of the lift. In Sophie’s flat there was no hesitation. He sat down in the centre of the sofa, let his legs slide apart as the girls got down to either side, and flopped his cock out of his trousers. He was big, very big, thick and black and veiny, and only half stiff, with the pink tip of his helmet just poking out from a meaty foreskin.
Sophie went straight down, taking him in her mouth even as she pulled out his balls. Bobbie watched for just a moment, before joining in, the two of them licking on his rapidly expanding cock shaft as he watched with an amused expression. I quite wanted it in my own mouth, and I knew exactly what would be going through Luke’s mind because, when it came to cocksucking, Aaron had to be his ideal.
Aaron looked up at me suddenly and pointed to his cock.
Why not? I went down on my knees between his open legs, my arms around Bobbie and Sophie as I buried my face in his crotch, licking at his dark, heavy balls. I wanted my breasts out while I did it, maybe my bum bare too, to tease him, to see if he’d break the agreement I knew Bobbie had made. And if I got fucked, well . . . I got fucked.
My fingers went to my shirt, tweaking my buttons open. He watched as I opened my blouse and tugged up my bra. I paused briefly, to heft my breasts in my hands, showing off to him, before going back to licking his balls and the shaft of his cock. Bobbie was no better, her hand down her trousers, playing with herself as she enjoyed his erection, or Sophie, her top and skirt quickly pulled up to show her knickers and bra. His hands had been on the back of the sofa, but now settled on the girls’ bums.
He was pushing it, but I was too high to care, playing with my breasts as the three of us licked and sucked and kissed at his lovely big set of cock and balls. Soon I’d pulled my skirt up, showing my knickers, then my bare bum, surely an invitation? He held back, cool and easy as the three of us worked on him, but suddenly something seemed to snap. He pushed up and I was sent sprawling, my legs wide, my pussy spread, his body on top of mine, his cock jammed deep as I gasped in shock and he was fucking me, furiously hard, and calling me a tart and tease as I grunted and panted underneath him.
Luke did nothing, just watched open-mouthed as I was fucked on the floor. Bobbie and Sophie reacted, jumping in to pull on his shoulders, too late, as he finished off, spunking deep inside me before pulling free to milk out the last of his come over my mound. I was panting, dizzy with sex, too horny to stop myself as my fingers went to my clit. There was a sour, knowing grin as Aaron stood up, watching me masturbate over what he’d done.
The girls saw, and let go of him, watching as my fingers worked in my crease, wet with his come, bringing myself up, higher and higher as I replayed over and over the way he’d just thrown me on the floor and fucked me, until I came, crying my ecstasy out loud to the room.
When we met again, after work on the Thursday, we had serious trouble deciding what to do. As Sophie argued, and I had to agree, it had been a bit much to ask of Aaron, or any red-blooded male, not to fuck me. On the other hand he hadn’t even bothered to ask, or apologise afterwards, simply assuming that because I’d taken my knickers down I was up for it. I had been, of course, but that wasn’t the issue.
Bobbie argued that up until that point he’d been very well behaved, although apparently he’d had his fingers up both their snatches by the time he’d lost it. Therefore, as long as we were game to satisfy him, everything would be OK. Sophie agreed, but I wasn’t quite so sure, and at the least wanted a reliable man around – a man who wouldn’t prove to be completely and utterly useless, as Luke had.
The thing was that Luke had been completely overawed by Aaron, basically because he had really wanted to be down on his knees and sucking cock, preferably with the three of us laughing at him while he did it. That was all very well, but entirely useless for our purposes. I needed a man I could trust, a real man, and I could only think of one possibility – Todd Byrne.
Maybe I’d have given up on it, but the more I thought about it the more deliciously improper it seemed. After weeks of being expected to kow-tow to executive types it was going to get a lot of frustration out of my system. I needed the money too – five hundred each – because, despite my good wages, I’d actually managed to spend more than I’d earned over my time as a temp. Still I might not have done it, but Friday morning tipped the balance.
I got the call I’d been expecting all week, from Maryam Smith. She didn’t even want me in at Super Staff. I was sacked, and that was that, no explanation, no nothing. It had to be Charles King’s doing, perhaps threatening to take his business away if I wasn’t fired, perhaps making up some outrageous lies about me, perhaps even telling the truth, or a twisted version of it. Whatever, it left me seething.
It wasn’t fair, to get me thrown out of a job just because I’d bruised his precious ego, and that was what it was, nothing more. I’d had every right to have sex with Sam, or anybody else I wanted, any way I wanted. Maybe, just maybe, he’d had reason to be angry, but to take my job away was right out of order.
I was going to go in and tell Maryam Smith where she could stick her job, but by the time I’d got to the Edgware Road I’d realised it was pointless. It wasn’t even really her fault, and she almost certainly didn’t know the truth. Charles King was the one to blame, but what could I do? I went drinking, from pub to pub, downing Guinness with whiskey chasers and plotting ever more fanciful revenges. The only even vaguely sensible one was to let the warehouse boys at Tilbury Bond have me anyway they liked in return for beating him to a pulp, and that was just going get me arrested. I was in my fifth pub when it hit me, the perfect revenge, calculated to hit him where it hurt but not to land me in jail.
My bladder was on the point of bursting as I made for the KMC building, but I hung on, my legs crossed and my toes wiggling on the bus, and my thighs pressed firmly together as I stood in front of the receptionist. My voice was full of contrition as I asked if I might be allowed to see Mr King, and when Andrew Miller came down to ask what I wanted I told him I’d come to apologise.
Up we went, through the security system and into the presence of the great Charles King, his face set in smug condescension, as I stepped into the centre of the office, pulled the gusset of my knickers aside and emptied the full contents of my bladder all over his priceless Persian rug.
It was nearly two hours before I got out of the KMC building, which was how long it took for Charles King to calm down enough to realise that having a nineteen year-old girl accusing him of demanding that she pee in front of him was not going to be good for his reputation.
My line was simple. I’d offered to apologise. He’d demanded a filthy act to humiliate me before I got a sound fucking, and in my fear and confusion I’d agreed, failing only to realise that I wasn’t supposed to go on the carpet. He ranted and raved, but finally he had to accept that when the questions started it would be poor, tearful little Lucy Doyle who was believed, and not big bad Charles King, who’d seduced more office girls than he’d had hot dinners.
I left.
It felt good, really good. My fists were clenched in triumph as I walked out through the lobby with my head held high. Only when I was out in the street did the reaction of what I’d done hit me. I was shaking so violently I had to sit down. Then there were tears. Then laughter. I was choking the laughter as I walked, thinking of his face as I’d let go all over the rug, his speechless outrage and his wild, impotent fury. All the w
ay home my mouth was constantly twitching into a wicked smile. I’d already decided to ask Todd Byrne to be our minder on the Saturday, and I was in just the mood to have some of my excess energy fucked out of me.
He would still be at work, at the Parochial House but, after the carpet incident, the thought of running into Father Jessop didn’t really bother me. I got off at Kilburn Park and walked to House, singing happily to myself as I went. There was no sign of Jessop, but Todd was there, clipping a hedge, his muscular torso naked and damp with sweat. He grinned as he saw me.
‘Hi, Todd, you said to call. Got a moment?’
‘For you, always. Come inside?’
‘Sure.’
I followed him into his hut, watching the muscles on his back play as he went. Just the smell of him was getting me horny, never mind how he looked and the knowledge of what he could do to me, while the great head of energy I’d built up by confronting King was rapidly turning sexual. He was grinning as he spoke.
‘So, what can I do for you?’
We both knew the answer, and Hilary Chalmers could wait.
‘What you do best, Todd. I really need it.’
He didn’t need telling twice. As I stepped close he’d taken me in his arms, kissing my mouth even as he fumbled up my skirt and my fingers groped for his fly. A moment later my knickers were down at the back and he was growing in my hand as he fondled my bottom, our mouths working together as we readied each ourselves for sex.
I went down on him before he was fully hard, wanting to feel him swell in my mouth, and to taste him. He held my head as I sucked, leaving me on just long enough for his cock to grow rigid before lifting me under my arms, pushing me hard against the door, ripping my knickers free of my thighs and plunging deep into me. Immediately I was gasping and panting in breathless ecstasy as he fucked me, my legs splayed wide, my breasts bouncing. He stuck his fingers into my shirt and tore it wide open. He was grunting as he did it, crude and animal, with his sweat-slick, hairy chest rubbing on my nipples and his coarse trousers right on my pussy, splaying my sex lips to touch my clit.
And I was gasping my head off as I came, totally unable to control myself, bucking and squirming in his grip, shudder after shudder running through me until, with a final bestial grunt, he jammed himself to the hilt and let it go inside me, looking me in the eye with a cheeky, dirty expression on his face and a curl to his lip like the bad boy he was.
He gave me a last kiss before lifting me off his cock and lying me down in a chair, heedless of my dishevelled state and ruined clothes. Several buttons were gone, although my knickers were beyond hope – a mangled damp mess that reeked of pheromones. By the time I left he’d agreed to come along on the Saturday, with the understanding that once he’d done his bit he could take me to bed. That was fine, because I was going to need it.
Hilary Chalmers rang me Saturday mid-morning to ask if everything was as it should be. I told her it was, fairly confident that nothing could go wrong. She would be arriving at Paddington on a one-twenty train, which I was supposed to meet. From then on every detail was carefully arranged, with Bobbie, Sophie, Aaron and Todd each playing their part. I could still think of a dozen ways it could go wrong, but there was nothing to do but keep my fingers crossed.
I took a mini-cab to Paddington, just in time to watched the one-twenty pull in, disgorging its passengers, including Hilary Chalmers in a white designer suit, expensively cut and accessorised to the nines, as if she was off to a garden party at the Palace. Her haughty stare was everything I remembered as she saw me, and I responded with a polite and servile dip of my head, greeting her respectfully as I reached to take her bags.
‘Good afternoon, Ms Chalmers,’ I said in a rather forced sing-song voice that we both knew was put on.
She didn’t trouble to respond, but walked briskly towards the cab rank with me staggering behind. My mini-cab was waiting, the hulking driver with his eyes fixed firmly in front, chomping on something highly calorific. I held the door for Ms Chalmers and loaded her bags into the boot before climbing in myself, next to the driver. A single, cold word came from the back.
‘Knightsbridge.’
It took a moment to get free of the station traffic, and then we were up the ramp and away, turning left, and then left again. Only when we’d joined the pack of traffic in the Marylebone Road did Ms Chalmers speak up, her voice full of impatience.
‘This is not the way to Knightsbridge.’
‘No, it isn’t.’
I pressed the central locking, which closed with a satisfying click. Again Ms Chalmers spoke, now angry, commanding.
‘Whatever are you doing? Turn this car around this moment!’
‘I don’t think so. Left here, Aaron.’
He turned, up into the jumble of small streets east of Marylebone Station, both of us ignoring Ms Chalmers’ protests until we’d pulled in beside a square, with a row of ornamental cheery half overhanging the car. It was our first risky moment, and I was glancing around as Bobbie and Sophie piled into the car either side of our posh client.
‘Right, you stuck-up bitch, it’s pay-back time!’ said Bobbie, who grabbed our victim as Sophie struggled her knickers off under her skirt and forced them into Ms Chalmers’ open mouth, reducing her protests to a feeble mumbling. A brief fight and her stockings had been pulled off and used to lash her wrists and ankles, leaving her helpless and dishevelled, her skirt rucked up so high the front of her expensive silk knickers showed, her blouse torn to show the curve of one plump breast.
As Bobbie and Sophie began to strip Chalmers of her jewellery and rifle her bag for her money and cards, Aaron was pulling out into the road. We’d done it, unobserved, and my pounding heart slowed a little as we picked up speed. Ms Chalmers was still struggling as we looped around Regent’s Park and down to Camden Town, tugging furiously against her bonds and mumbling through Sophie’s knickers.
The girls just laughed at her and began to torment her, pulling her jacket open and tweaking her big breasts, pinching her squirming thighs and the soft curve of her belly. I watched, enjoying myself as she wriggled and twitched under their pinches, and occasionally reaching out to nip at where I could get at the soft flesh of her breasts.
We made Sophie’s towerblock, the next risky bit, pulling into the underground car park and stopping in the gloomiest corner. I got out first and ran to the lift, signalling the others to follow me as the doors slid wide to reveal an empty interior. Ms Chalmers was dragged from the car and across to me, her perfect leather shoes scraping on the rough concrete. I’d held the door, and was already pushing the buttons for Sophie’s floor as they bundled her into the lift.
All it needed was for somebody to stop the bloody thing before we’d reached Sophie’s floor, but our luck held and nobody did. Sophie ran to open her door, the rest of us following with the squirming Ms Chalmers supported between us. We made it, and dropped our victim to the floor, Sophie crowing in triumph.
‘Got her! Stick her in the bathroom, Aaron, and let’s have a drink to celebrate.’
Bobbie answered.
‘You’re on. Hang about, and I’ll use some of the bitch’s money to buy some champagne, the best!’
Ms Chalmers was hauled into the bathroom and dumped on the tiled floor by Aaron as Bobbie left. I collapsed down on the sofa, extremely glad we’d got away with it. We were now safe, and could indulge ourselves at leisure. Todd was in the kitchen, munching a sandwich, and greeted me with an indulgent wink. I kissed him, allowing my hand to stray to his crotch for just a moment, but pulled back as he found the curve of my bottom.
‘Later, anything you like. This is fun!’
He shook his head in mild deprecation for my behaviour, patted my bottom and let me go. Aaron was back in the room, the bathroom door closed.
‘You are three mad bitches, you know that!’ Todd shouted through his sandwich.
There was laughter in his voice, and Sophie joined in, bouncing down in a chair. Aaron sat too, legs well spl
ayed, his cock a prominent bulge in his trousers. I checked my watch to be sure I had my timing right and settled back, no longer worried but with a pleasant, tingling excitement growing inside me.
Bobbie was soon back, with a half-case of vintage champagne she’d managed to lug all the way from the High Street. Sophie fetched glasses and we began to drink, toasting each other and the success of our scheme in the full knowledge that Ms Chalmers could hear every word we said. Sophie was particularly pleased with herself.
‘This is going to be good, so fucking good. When I think of all those spankings . . .’
‘And that hairbrush of hers! She’ll regret using that, oh yes.’
‘She’ll regret it all once we’re done with her, and not just the beatings, but every little snotty remark.’
‘Every order, in that nasty way she speaks.’
‘Every put down.’
‘Every demeaning task, everything. More champagne, Aaron, Sophie?’
We drank, and drank some more, four bottles over an hour, to leave my head swimming and my bladder tight. Knowing what I was going to do, the inspiration for my revenge on King made me feel increasingly naughty, and when the time was up I was more than ready for Hilary Chalmers. I drained my glass.
‘Let’s go.’
Aaron had Sophie’s blouse open, and had been toying idly with her breasts, but she detached his groping hand. Both stood, Aaron having to adjust his erection first, and I shook my head in mock vexation.
‘Tut, tut, you’d better let that go down first.’
He gave a loose shrug, pulled his zip down and hauled it out, a thick pole of hard brown cock meat extending vertically from his fly. I felt my tummy tighten, remembering how he plunged it into me.
‘OK, that’s good, I suppose. Get your balls out too.’