by Peter Birch
It took him a few minutes to get fully hard, his balls still drained after fucking Henrietta, by which time Felicity had begun to stick her bottom up higher still, making the pout of her pussy and the pucker of her ass available to his fingers. He took full advantage, easing open her vagina, as Rhiannon smiled conspiratorially and pulled a tube of lubricant from her bag. Peter grinned, watching as Rhiannon drizzled the fluid between the crests of Felicity’s well-reddened bottom, and still more between her cheeks, directly onto her anus. Felicity gave a muffled sob as she felt the cool fluid on her skin, but she began to suck harder on Peter’s erection as Rhiannon massaged her flesh and Peter continued to finger her.
Chloe had soon joined in too, taking over with the lube while Rhiannon and Henrietta began to kiss. Peter began to wonder just how far he could take it, with Felicity’s head now bobbing urgently up and down on his straining cock. They’d fucked twice before, and she’d already had three men that evening. But her luscious bottom had been on full display during her spanking and Peter was quite sure she had not been entered there. Easing his fingers from her vagina, he began to tease between her ass cheeks, rubbing lube over the little textured crevice of her anus as he spoke.
“Maybe, Felicity, what you really need is a nice, big cock in your ass?”
Her sucking immediately grew more urgent, maybe in a desperate effort to make him come in her mouth before she was sodomized, maybe in anticipation of exactly that. Peter chose to assume that she would let him, easing one finger up into the tight little hole he’d been lubricating. She gave another heartfelt sob and suddenly she’d come up off his cock, only to start to rub it all over her face and lick at his balls.
“Up the back it is,” he told her, fingering her anus for just a moment longer. When she didn’t protest he pulled her around.
She let him guide her, her bottom pushed out into his lap, pale and round and beautiful in the dim light, in full view of the other three girls. Grinning more broadly than ever, Peter pressed his cock to her anus, watching as the slippery little ring began to open, taking him gradually inside. Rhiannon took hold of his cock, steering it up into Felicity’s back way until she was sitting firmly on his lap, now upright, her thighs spread wide, his balls pressed to her equally slippery vagina. He took her by the waist, bouncing her on his cock as she gasped and panted her way through the lewd act, when suddenly Chloe scrambled over the seats, got down on her knees and buried her face in Felicity’s cunt. She was licking at Peter’s balls as well, pushing him closer to orgasm, but he held off, eager to feel Felicity’s anus tighten on his shaft when she came, which seemed likely to be at any instant. Already her muscles had begun to contract, and she was begging Chloe to lick harder and squirming her bottom into Peter’s lap, her voice thick with ecstasy, then breaking to a scream as she hit her orgasm.
Peter began to pump hard into her rectum, eager to fill her with cum as she came, with the glorious sensation of her anal ring tightening over and around his cock. She screamed out again, her body locked in orgasm, her belly pushed out into Chloe’s face—too far. His cock slipped from her bottom just as he started to come. Cum splashed into Chloe’s face, but she’d taken hold, and to Peter’s astonishment fed his cock into her mouth, drawn fresh from her girlfriend’s ass, to suck and swallow, choking as she received the rest of his spume down her throat, keeping him deep in her mouth until at last he was spent.
Chloe had made herself come with busy fingers, in a perfect trio of orgasm, while Henrietta was already pulling down Rhiannon’s uniform to get at her breasts. Leaving the girls to play together, Peter climbed down from the van to check that no one had seen, and to draw the cool, pre-dawn air into his lungs. The eastern sky was already getting light, but the streets were quiet, save for a car that pulled away from a space directly opposite the entrance to the short blind alley where he’d parked. It had been small and dark colored, much like the one he’d seen near the Grove and at Waddesdon. The driver had been in a hurry. He walked quickly to the end of the alley, but the car was already gone.
♦♦♦♦
“You’re getting paranoid, Peter,” Stephen Richards laughed as he sat back in his armchair at the Grove. “The world’s full of little blue cars.”
“I find it pays to be cautious,” Peter replied. “So, if you don’t mind, I’ll go on ahead while you keep an eye on the end of the lane, then follow five minutes later. We can meet up again at the golf club and run through the same procedure when we come back with your clients.”
“If you insist,” Stephen answered. “But you make it sound like something out of a James Bond film, except that I’m sure no self-respecting movie spy would be caught dead driving a Ford Fiesta.”
“It was a Mini Metro, I think,” Peter told him, “and it’s probably nothing, but I’m sure you’ll agree that this afternoon’s entertainment is best kept private?”
“Absolutely,” Stephen agreed. “Ah, there you are, girls. They’re going to love you!”
Clementine, Felicity and Chloe had come downstairs, shepherded by Michelle, while Rhiannon could be heard laughing from the bedroom. All three of the younger girls were in identical outfits, and all three looked somewhat sheepish, Clementine most of all.
“I feel silly,” she announced, lifting the hem of her Union Flag minidress.
“Blame the Spice Girls,” Peter answered, trying not to laugh.
“Geri Halliwell didn’t have to wear frilly knickers under her dress,” Clementine pointed out, “and they didn’t show either, not like this. I mean, look!”
Even from the front, a puff of frills had been visible below the hem of her dress. But as she turned to show off the back, Peter gave up trying not to grin. The dress was tight at the waist and flared to a pleated skirt that was not only far too short to cover Clementine’s bottom properly, but pushed up and out by a great froth of lace that nevertheless did very little to conceal the contours of her cheeks. The upper part of her dress was scarcely more decent, with the material tight over her breasts to make it very obvious indeed that she had no bra underneath, while Union Flag stockings, little white pumps on her feet and a bright red ribbon in her hair all combined to make her look both rude and ridiculous. Felicity was no better, identically dressed but for a blue hair ribbon, although the sulky scowl on her face didn’t really suit the image. Chloe was more stoical, and merely looked embarrassed, although her fuller bottom made the effect of comic smut even more exaggerated.
“You look lovely,” Peter said. “Well, sexy, in a Benny Hill sort of way.”
“I’m sorry, really,” Stephen added, chuckling. “But that’s what they wanted, and the client is king.”
“The client is a pervert,” Felicity put in.
“But a rich pervert,” Peter pointed out, “and rich perverts tend to get their way. Come on girls, cheer up. Smile, wiggle your bottoms, and remember, plenty of deference. But don’t overdo it. Too much and they’ll think you’re making fun of them. They may be perverts, but they’re not stupid.”
“We know what to do,” Clementine assured him.
“You don’t expect us to come to the golf club like this, do you?” Chloe asked.
“Of course not,” Peter assured her. “Michelle and Rhiannon can drive up with us to keep them happy, and you’re to be ready with cold beers when we get back, along with anything else they want, and that means anything.”
“We know,” Felicity answered him.
“Excellent,” Peter said, rising from the sofa, “and do you remember what I said about the wrestling?”
“Yes,” Clementine confirmed. “We’re to make it look as if we really hate each other.”
“Think humiliation,” Felicity added.
“That’s right,” Peter said, “and above all, make it look real. Ok, let’s go. Five minutes behind me please, Stephen.”
They followed the plan but nothing untoward happened, leaving
Peter feeling slightly foolish but very relieved as they pulled up in front of the golf club where Stephen had installed his clients for the weekend. There were six of them, all dressed more or less alike, in sober, well cut suits with plain ties and highly polished shoes. All were as fastidious in their manners as in their dress, but there the similarities ended. One, Mr. Drach, was plainly the senior man, older than the others, with a brisk, business-like manner and a hard edge. His accountant and lawyer, Zoran Zoranov and Miroslav Petrović, were short and tall respectively, but united by a cruel humor. Two others, both large, silent men with dark glasses and carefully trimmed beards, hadn’t been introduced by name but appeared to be security. The last, introduced simply as Kralj, had no obvious function and seemed cold and humorless, while even his polite manners somehow came across as sinister.
The three who seemed to be the actual businessmen were at least easy to get on with, and as they talked over glasses of gin and tonic Peter began to relax. They seemed to have an almost infantile delight in their desire to have British girls thoroughly humiliated, in which he could see at least a reflection of his own sexual preferences. Nevertheless, they were extremely courteous to both Rhiannon and Michelle, but made no effort to conceal their lust, as if the women had been created purely for their sexual entertainment. It was an attitude very much in accordance with some of the girls’ darker fantasies, if very different from the way they handled men in day-to-day life. By the time they were ready to leave, Peter was thoroughly looking forward to the afternoon’s entertainment.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened on the way back to the Grove, allowing Peter to expand on the scenario he and Stephen had set up to make the entertainment exciting for their guests. He was already on first name terms with Zoran and Miroslav, who were seated to either side of Michelle in the back of the Jaguar. Kralj rode in the front, maintaining a slightly unnerving silence while the others listened to Peter’s descriptions of Clementine and Felicity.
“… natural blonds too, as you will see. In fact, they’re so alike they could be sisters. But they were rivals at school and they absolutely hate each other, so you can be sure of a good fight. Not only that, but the winner gets a nice bonus to take home, as well as being allowed to do as she likes to the loser, who then gets six of the cane to finish her off.”
“You know how to handle a girl!” Zoran laughed.
“Stick and carrot, we call it,” Peter explained. “An expression that comes from an old fashioned way to make a donkey move along, with a carrot dangled in front of his nose and a stick to beat him with. Only in this case the donkey is a girl, the carrot is money and the stick is … well, a stick.”
Both Zoran and Miroslav laughed, and even Kralj’s stony expression seemed to flicker towards a smile for an instant as Peter turned into the lane. Chloe was waiting at the door, looking pleasingly shy and embarrassed in her over-the-top outfit with her breasts lifted up high and bare in two demi-cup froths of lace. She also looked distinctly submissive, with a silver tray fastened to her wrists by slender chains. The same chains also led to tiny clips made in the shape of dragon’s heads, each with its teeth clamped onto one stiff nipple. On the tray was a bottle of Champagne and several full glasses.
“Champagne, Gentlemen?” she offered, bobbing a curtsy as Peter and the others climbed from the car.
“Pol Roger, Winston Churchill’s personal favorite,” Peter explained as they took their glasses. “Which is why the cuvée is named after him, the ’eighty-five in this case, and made using grapes exclusively from Grand Cru vineyards.”
Both Zoran and Milosevic were plainly more interested in inspecting the now blushing Chloe’s firmly clamped tits, while Kralj was looking at the open, empty fields and hedges as he spoke into his mobile phone.
“We’re quite secure, I assure you,” Peter told him, although he found himself glancing nervously at the line of trees along the road and at a distant row of walkers on Ivinghoe Beacon. “You’d need an extraordinarily powerful lens to see that Chloe’s dress is anything more than a cheeky costume, while all the action will be around the back, where we’re screened in all directions. Do come in.”
Kralj responded with a single, crisp nod and followed through to the garden, leaving Chloe to greet Stephen and the remaining guests as their car drew up. Clementine and Felicity stood on the lawn, glowering at each other from either side of a pool of thick, grayish mud.
“This is our clay pit,” Peter announced, indicating the depression he’d hollowed out in the middle of the lawn. “Just the thing for girls to wrestle in, I’m sure you’ll agree?”
He’d chosen the position well, making sure that the house and trees blocked the view in every direction, with the peak of the hill barely visible between the tall trunks. Considerable trouble had also gone into the design. First he had marked out a circle ten feet wide, then dug a shallow bowl from the chalky soil. A pond liner had ensured that the bottom was smooth and the water wouldn’t drain away too quickly, while a local quarry had allowed him to collect a quantity of chalky slurry. All of his efforts had resulted in a very natural-looking pit of notably disgusting clay.
Stephen and the remaining three guests had joined them, sipping Champagne and passing remarks in a language completely lost on Peter. But the crude jokes made at the girls’ expense, and speculation as to what could be done with each of them, barely needed translation. Mr. Drach was the first to touch, walking over to Felicity to push one breast up and out her of her bodice. He gave the nipple a firm tweak and set it erect, before treating the other to the same. Felicity managed a giggle in response, while there was nothing false about her blushes. But Mr. Drach seemed concerned only with her body, merely passing a remark in his own language as he began to fondle her breasts.
“Hands on your head, Felicity,” Peter ordered, “and you, Clementine. Show the gentlemen some respect.”
Both girls complied, Felicity struggling to maintain her composure, Clementine cool and serene even as her breasts were popped out in turn and her nipples tweaked to erection. Chloe had joined them, and she was similarly perused, Zoran holding up her skirt to show off the seat of her frilly knickers and allowing Miroslav to take a leisurely fondle of her bottom. Kralj and the two big, quiet men had disappeared in among the trees, presumably to make sure they were unobserved, and Peter took the opportunity to speak with Stephen.
“Well, they seem to like the girls.”
“I should hope so too,” Stephen answered. “I just hope the girls like them enough to put on a good show.”
“We should be okay,” Peter assured him. “That’s one of the many good things about ex-toasty girls. They’re used to humiliation. In fact, they’ll probably be disappointed if they don’t get a good spanking, especially Clemmie.”
“I’m not sure our friends are into spanking as such,” Stephen replied as they watched Chloe’s frilly knickers pulled down. “Or at least, not in the English style. Mainly they just seem to like girls they can interfere with.”
Peter nodded. Mr. Drach now had Felicity’s breasts fully out of her dress, one cupped in either hand as he sucked and licked at her nipples. She stood bolt upright, her hands on top of her head and her eyes closed, her emotions betrayed by the faint trembling of her lower lip. Zoran had gone to Clementine, one hand down the front of her knickers. Despite his sober demeanor, she seemed to savor his touch as her mouth grew slack and her calm expression gave way to reluctant pleasure as she was molested. Miroslav had stayed with Chloe, her knickers now around her ankles, as he squeezed and licked at her bottom while she struggled not to giggle through her scarlet blushes.
Mr. Drach gave an order, laughing but also stern. All three girls had quickly been divested of their knickers, leaving them bare both front and back as they hurried indoors to fetch more refreshments and the men came over to compliment Stephen and Peter on the arrangements. Kralj returned with the two bodyguards to make a brief rep
ort in his own language before taking a glass of champagne from Chloe as she re-emerged. Rhiannon appeared, carrying seats for the wrestling, only to be caught by Zoran and Miroslav, molested and stripped nude as she scampered back for more chairs. Peter said nothing, and when she came out again she was quickly seated on one of the chairs as Zoran’s cock was fed into her mouth. Mr. Drach also unzipped, guiding Felicity’s hand to his cock, while Clementine was put on her knees to suck Miroslav erect. None of the others took any notice and Peter decided to follow their example, expounding upon the beauty of the Chilterns to Mr. Drach and Miroslav even as the girls worked on their cocks.
With a grunt from Zoran, Rhiannon received a faceful of jism, with creamy ribbons hanging from her nose and chin as well as a long white streak down one cheek and more still in her mouth. Miroslav promptly excused himself to Peter and ducked down to turn Clementine onto her knees, easing his cock into her cunt with no more self-consciousness than if he’d been fastening a cufflink. Mr. Drach guided Felicity down to where she took his cock in her mouth, with Peter now amused but a little shocked as he continued the conversation.
“I must say, you use the girls very casually, Mr. Drach.”
“That is what they’re here for, no?” Mr Drach responded as Peter watched Zoran wipe his cum into Rhiannon’s face with his still hard cock.
“That’s true enough,” Peter answered, now talking to the sound of the squelching noise of Miroslav’s cock in Clementine’s cunt. “Would you like to um … finish off before the wrestling?”
“I am so sorry,” Mr. Drach replied. “We are being rude. The girls must get ready for the fight, of course. Miroslav, fuck the other one, the red head. You can stop now, little one.”