Gretel's Game

by King Key

  “Bastard!” She slapped his cock violently and stood up.

  “I can’t forget either one of you,” he confessed.

  Jessica slid her panties down and held the hem of her dress in one hand.

  “You promised me a night of forbidden bliss!” he protested.

  Jessica assumed the air of an elementary school teacher addressing a slow student. “I used a double meaning, Kurt. One meaning is the bliss that Gretel forbids us from having. Tonight I’ll exploit you completely and repeatedly to get my forbidden bliss.”

  “What about me?” he asked.

  “Thank you for giving me a great segue!” She patted him on both cheeks, as though applauding with his face between her hands. “You provide the other meaning of forbidden bliss. All night long I will lure you to the edge of sexual bliss, but I will forbid you from enjoying a climax.”

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked resignedly.

  “To punish you for being stupid enough to admit you’re still thinking about Gretel. Tonight you’re at my mercy.”

  “That’s spiteful. Not like you.”

  “Chalk it up to conditioned learning. I’ll teach you to associate your sexual excitement with eating me.” She pulled his face into her muff. “Hope you’re hungry.” Carefully pressing Kurt’s face into her vagina to maintain contact, Jessica knelt and lay back on the floor. She guided his face where it would do her the most good—for the first of a half-dozen sessions that night.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Snaring the Trappers

  Gretel sensed Bruiser’s surly mood while he drove her back to the hotel. So what if her stunt with Kurt’s car almost sent Bruiser back to prison? Too bad. He’d be in prison, anyway, if she hadn’t promised the judge to keep him out of trouble. He needed to realize she held his fate in her hands.

  Sidney met her at the door to her suite, and Bruiser struck up a conversation with Sidney. Very odd, Gretel thought. Bruiser hated Sidney’s guts. What was going on?

  Excusing herself to take a shower, Gretel retreated into her bedroom, still carrying her pocketbook, which contained Lila’s handheld tape recorder and the coin purse with two roofies. She turned on the shower, switched on the tape player, and lowered the volume until she reached the end of Kurt’s narrative.

  Stripping quickly, she stepped under the water long enough to get that just-showered look. She backed out and stood by the tub to record herself singing a few verses of “Her Royal Majesty,” James Darren’s 1962 masochistic anthem to prima donnas everywhere. Rewinding the tape, she increased the volume and played it back.

  She hurried to her bed, took the leather pants and blazer from the suitcase she had brought from home, and donned the outfit. She crept to the door and eavesdropped on Bruiser and Sidney.

  “She can’t hear us,” Bruiser said. “She’s singing in the shower.”

  “Well, I’m with you,” Sidney said, almost with a lisp. “She’s an arrogant bitch.”

  “If she had her way,” Bruiser complained, “I’d be back in prison right now.”

  “Yeah, she wouldn’t let me blackmail Rich. And sent her mother to bang me!”

  Bruiser vowed, “We’ll teach her a lesson.”

  “Right!” Sidney exclaimed. “I’ll butt-fuck her, and you gag her with your cock in her mouth. We’ll give it to her all night long. If we could get away with it, I’d like to—”

  “We’ll see,” Bruiser interrupted him.

  “She’s so goddam lucky,” Sidney complained. “She tricked her late husband, Greg, into divorce. But he died before changing his will. Would’ve left her a fortune if I hadn’t persuaded the family to contest the will.”

  “How?”

  “Blackmail. That’s all I’ll say. But I can’t stop them forever. I need to get rid of her.”

  “Let’s take it slow so she won’t scream. Follow my lead. I’ve done this before—the kind of rape they can’t prove, but not murder. If we snuff her, my hand stays in your pocket. Got it?”

  “Deal!” Sidney said.

  Gretel felt outraged. Bruiser had convinced her he was innocent of the sexual assault charges against him. She took her coin purse with the two roofies from her pocketbook and put the purse in her right pants pocket. She took a condom from her pocketbook and put it in her left pants pocket. Strapping on her dildo, she slid on her shades and returned to the shower to turn off the tape recorder and the water.

  When she sauntered in, Sidney collapsed before her. “Hi, Greg,” he blushed.

  “Don’t be a sap,” Bruiser said in a loud whisper.

  Gretel cringed internally at a hideous suspicion: What if Sidney erotically responded to “Greg” because he had sex with her late husband—by the same name? “I cut Rich a break,” Gretel said to Bruiser. “So, I’m giving Sidney a treat.” She turned to face the man with the multi-colored nose. “I know what you crave, Sissy Schissy. I hid a fifth of Scotch under the couch. Aside from a cock, that’s the only thing you like straight.”

  Sidney knelt and pulled out the bottle while Gretel was still talking.

  “Damn it, Sidney!” Bruiser complained.

  “What’s your hurry, big boy?” Gretel turned on Bruiser and read in his eyes how much he desired her. “Take a load off your dying feet and put it on your dead ass.” Gretel pushed him gently, and Bruiser docilely sat on the couch.

  She turned to Sidney. “Never mind the glass. Chug it straight from the bottle. Or I’ll kick you in the nuts.”

  “Oh, Greg!” Sidney gleefully put the bottle to his lips and turned it upside down. Sure, he loved liquor, but he wasn’t misbehaving. Greg made him guzzle it!

  “Embrace your true love,” Gretel whispered in his ear. “Pretend we’re not here.”

  Sidney, still kneeling, turned his back on them and guzzled another slug.

  “You fucking idiot!” Bruiser was beside himself but he remained seated.

  Gretel leaned into his face. “‘Fucking’ is the operative word,” she said. “You’re furious because you’re so horny. Take your clothes off.”

  Bruiser looked at her in disbelief but had no intention of spoiling a dream-come-true. Rising, he shed his clothes quickly. When he was nude, he asked, “Now what?”

  “Sit back down. Close your eyes, and I’ll kiss you.”

  “OK.” Bruiser sat down. He’d play along with her now. He could take his time before he intimidated Gretel. He’d overpower her, humiliate her, and get his jollies.

  Gretel slipped the coin purse from her right pocket, took out a roofie, and tucked it on top of her tongue. She curled the front edges of her tongue together to hold the pill—the trickiest, most dangerous part of her plan. Returning the coin purse to her pocket, she pressed her lips against Bruiser’s. She shot her tongue into his mouth and blew the pill down his throat.

  He coughed and swallowed. “What was that?”

  “Ever try ecstasy?”

  “Is that what that was?”

  “Sit back, Bruiser. Relax. Wait for it to take effect,” she said smoothly, evading the truth about the drug she had just slipped him. “Let me play with Sidney.”

  “I must be dreaming,” Bruiser said. “But don’t wake me up!”

  “Oh, I won’t!”

  Sidney played the willing victim when Gretel plied him with liquor. She coaxed him into undressing, one article of clothing at a time. Although Sidney’s speech slurred and his hand-eye coordination deteriorated, Gretel got him naked before he became totally incapacitated.

  Right on time, Bruiser slumped over. While Sidney remained conscious, if incoherent, Gretel removed the condom from her pocket, slid it over Sidney’s cock, and pumped him to a climax that soothed him enough to put him to sleep. She took the remaining roofie from her coin purse and put it in Sidney’s pants pocket.

  With tremendous effort, Gretel succeeded in turning Bruiser face down on the floor. Mounting him from behind, she rammed her dildo into his rear end and harnessed her anger through a rough, immensely g
ratifying ride. When she finished, she wrapped her dildo in a hotel towel, put it in her suitcase, and fingered herself to a voluptuous orgasm. Returning to the living room area of the suite, Gretel removed the cum-filled condom from Sidney’s cock and wedged it into Bruiser’s anus.

  She gathered her belongings and quietly exited. When the two unconscious men woke up, they could draw their own conclusions.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Stealing Love

  The pale daylight that precedes the oranges and yellows of sunrise illuminated Jessica’s bedroom when she woke Kurt up and unlocked his handcuffs. “See?” she said proudly. “Gretel isn’t the only woman who can give you exactly what you crave. I went straight to the source to find out—Lila!”

  Kurt could not imagine he had told Dr. Krafft he liked B&D. “You were right to distrust her,” he said. Betraying Kurt’s confidentiality was bad enough, but why did Dr. Krafft tell Jessica that he wanted to be teased, denied, and handcuffed?

  “Oh, I trust her implicitly!” Jessica beamed. She wore blue slacks and a red sweater instead of her splendid black leather dress.

  Befuddled, Kurt asked, “What about …?”

  “You want sex while I’m wearing my dress. Mind if we don’t have intercourse? You’re still gaga over Gretel, and I’m saving myself for someone who loves me.”

  “I’m sorry. And thanks for offering to indulge my fetish.”

  “After breakfast. I know you’re not hungry, because you’ve been eating all night,” she said with a straight face. “But I’m famished.”

  “Need help?”

  “No, I’ll make pancakes while you shower. Your clothes are in the bathroom. Didn’t want you walking around naked.”

  While the water streamed into his face, Kurt philosophized. Jessica turned out spicy for the “nice” sister. If she’d let him hump her while she wore her black leather dress, she’d rival Gretel’s sex appeal. But Gretel still ruled his thoughts, nullifying his right to pursue Jessica. Finishing his shower, he dried off and put his clothes on, even his jacket. Jessica deserved formal dining attire, even to an informal meal.

  Kurt opened the bathroom door. A figure in a shiny black dress stood beside Jessica’s vanity with a necklace in her gloved hand. He blinked. Her finger touched her lips to signal Kurt to be quiet. She crooked her finger for him to approach her.

  Kurt’s heart surged with the nearly subconscious stirrings of his affair with Greta Hipps—and his conscious crush on Gretel, a tangible, real, and present temptation. Gretel resembled Kurt’s first and biggest flame so strongly, especially with her bobbed hairdo, that the distinctions between the two ladies dissolved to form one entity preordained to addict Kurt to self-destructive, heightened ecstasy that fulfilled his destiny of being the instrument of a gorgeous, seductive woman. Gretel’s black dress clung to her curves and glistened to glorify the dimensions of her derriere, hips, and breasts. Kurt could have stared at her for hours, hungrily digesting every detail.

  In a blinding epiphany, Kurt realized that majestic Greta Hipps faded into oblivion compared to Gretel Fox’s magnetism, ego, and sensual allure. Kurt yearned feverishly to surrender to this surreal, golden, sexual, and romantic fantasy-turned-reality and give Gretel absolute control of his life, to drive him to exhaustion, refresh him, and use him shamelessly again, maintaining her iron grip on him—her cruel tyranny masquerading as a love embrace. If Gretel would favor him with her domination, Kurt would endure austere hardships and deep sacrifices to serve her and amuse her by suffering her endless physical and psychological torture.

  Kurt walked on the balls of his feet, trying to remain quiet while striding as swiftly as possible to reach Gretel’s side. He realized why she renamed Sidney’s PR agency Chimera: Gretel embodied the illusion, the unfulfilled dream that Kurt would seek for the rest of his life. Even if he held her in is arms—Gretel took Kurt in her arms and arched her back to press her loins against his—Kurt would still cling to an eerie suspicion that she was a phantom created by his concept of the perfect female. No flesh and blood woman could possibly overload his senses with romantic passion and decadent sensuality the way Gretel saturated him, from her golden hair, green eyes, achingly-seductively-contoured body visually projected in slick blackness, down to her marshmallow and lavender perfume. That faintly remembered scent!

  Gretel kissed him boldly and stuffed Jessica’s necklace into his coat pocket. Inexplicably, Gretel’s gesture to frame him for her thievery made his erection stiffer. Anticipating her trickery made him feel her dominance deeply in his soul.

  Kurt lost control and wept. “I love you,” he confessed. “I fell in love with you when we were on stage together Friday night.”

  “When I stole your award and humiliated you in front of everyone?”

  “When you crushed me under your heel and laughed at me.”

  “You may call me Greta.”

  “No, you’re…” he paused. Totally transported by his awe for her, Kurt babbled, “Greta was superlative. You’re beyond that, Gretel! No one like you ever existed.”

  Her breath came in short gulps. “Have I supplanted Greta Hipps?”

  “Gretel, you’ve surpassed everyone else on earth!”

  Her smug look intoxicated him. Grinding her lips into his, Gretel deposited another necklace in Kurt’s other coat pocket. “Pick up Jessica’s jewel box,” she told him. “Handle the jewelry. Good boy. Leave plenty of fingerprints. When I get you back to my place—”

  “I can’t wait!”

  Her sly, wicked smile stoked him further. “Didn’t think so.” She did an about-face and nestled her ass against his groin. “Isn’t my posterior the classiest, most magnificent rump you’ve ever felt?” Her favorite pose, smiling over her left shoulder, sucked all of the air from Kurt’s lungs.

  Finally catching his breath, Kurt spoke in a desperate, raspy voice. “I love everything about you, Gretel. Your ass, your feet, your wonderful pussy, your hair, your eyes—may I bow down and kiss your ass?”

  “If you insist.” She stuck her posterior out to meet his eager lips.

  Kurt frantically embraced Gretel’s hips and kissed her ass, tonguing her through the obstacles of her dress and panties—and feeling the hooks of her garterbelt through her dress fueled his lust. “Never, ever let me pass up another opportunity to acknowledge how inferior I am to you.” He kissed her rump several times in succession. “No matter who has just kissed your ass, I’ll gladly put my lips there if you just give me the chance.”

  “I’ll give you plenty of opportunities, Kurt. But right now I’ll thrill you beyond your wildest dreams, not because you deserve it, but because I plan to use you, Kurt, to have Jessica catch us in the act instead of interrupting us before we get started, to trap you in my unique ecstasy, binding you to me so tightly you couldn’t pull yourself away if your life depended on it.” During her speech, Gretel retreated to Jessica’s bed, stacked three pillows vertically against the headboard, and placed the other on the bed.

  Matching Gretel’s quickness, Kurt stripped while she spoke. He took one of the condoms from his pants pocket and put it on. By the time Gretel climbed on the bed, reclined against the pillows stacked at the headboard, and situated the fourth pillow under her ass, Kurt hopped on the bed with her. “You are more than I deserve,” he confessed. He kissed her reverently.

  “I’ll make you pay for your unworthiness.” She spread her legs.

  Wiggling like a contortionist, Kurt slid his cock into her vagina. He shivered with each fraction of an inch of penetration. Gretel shuddered, too. The sensation of slowly sliding into Gretel made him giddy. His eyes moistened. When Kurt pushed as deep as he could, he pulled back slowly. His temperature soared. In again, deeper, deeper, until he doubted he could arch his back any more, then back, back, slowly, absorbing every nuance of the delightfully sensuous friction between the lips of Gretel’s vagina and his cock, ever so careful not to back out completely, break the contact, and feel the bitter loneliness of bei
ng outside. He fervently wished he could pace himself slowly and feel the magical sensations ripple through his body, but the demanding, irresistible suction between Gretel’s loins lured his cock into moving faster, faster, enticing him out of control. His body thrashed against hers and drew back, thrashed forward, withdrew, with rising velocity.

  Gretel clutched his ass cheeks and rose against him. Wordlessly, they remained joined while rotating their bodies to put Gretel where she belonged—on top. She shook her body loosely, physically stating how much she enjoyed her freedom. Unbuttoning the bodice of her dress, she slid both sides of the top past her shoulders and removed her bra.

  Gretel’s breasts perfected the design of the female bosom without the overrated, excessive size that so many people praise. Kurt leaned up and kissed one and then the other, sucking each nipple lovingly before he reclined to watch the majesty of Gretel riding her beast of burden—him. She hitched him up, just as she predicted to Rich, and Kurt relished being under her rein.

  He gazed adoringly at Gretel’s face. Passion glittered through her emerald eyes more brightly than usual. The gentle fanning out and rejoining of her golden strands of hair while she rose and descended lulled him with its own poetry, even while Gretel tightened her vaginal muscles so adroitly that she absolutely owned Kurt. Never again would Kurt question how big a crush he had on Gretel. The depth of his love encompassed passion, tenderness, unbridled lust, worship, intrigue, unquestioning devotion, and every other noble emotion—and some not so noble—far exceeding his love of any other woman. Her scorn for Kurt, her haughtiness, and her stated intention of manipulating him into serving as her tool failed to dent his unconditional love for Gretel.

  Gretel’s virtuoso ride in the saddle fascinated Kurt as though he were a spectator, even while her erotic moves dominated him emotionally and physically as a participant. She leaned back slightly, increasing the friction of his cock against her clitoris. But that physiological tidbit flicked past his awareness, flooded by the visual delight of watching Gretel snatch her gratification by making Kurt a giant dildo, a flesh-and-blood but totally manipulated adjunct to her pleasure. The words crossed his mind and passed through his lips before Kurt could censor them: “Use me, you glorious, irresistible lady!”