Seduction of a Chambermaid
"Mr Ross in Room 17 complained that his bed wasn't made properly yesterday."
Louise rubbed her damp forehead with the back of her hand. Her friends were
right: this wasn't much of a way to spend a Saturday. Some costly, frivolous
shopping, a few lunch-time drinks in one of the trendier bars, all the time
anticipating the prospect of the night ahead. Those were things Saturdays were
meant for. Not making beds and cleaning bathrooms in a provincial hotel.
The head housekeeper was still bitching. "And I want you to make sure the
bridal suite is immaculate. We don't want any objections from today's happy
couple." The old cow fixed her withering gaze on Louise. "Do we?"
Louise shook her head. "Of course not, Mrs Coombes."
Mrs Coombes peered into Louise's face, sniffed haughtily and strode off towards
the reception desk. Louise watched her go, venom in her eyes.
Sarah, another of the weekend chambermaids, walked over from the main dining
room. "What was the old bitch moaning about this time?"
"One of the bedrooms wasn't made up properly yesterday and Coombes seems to
think that it's my fault. Doesn't she remember that I'm at college during the
week?"
Sarah laughed. "She likes keeping the part-timers on their toes. She was
ranting at me earlier about the state of the bridal suite from five weeks ago."
"If I didn't need the money, I'd tell her where to stick her lousy job."
Sarah looked at Louise carefully. "Do I take it from your mood that we won't be
seeing you in town this evening?"
"Good guess." Louise laughed bitterly. "The books get priority tonight."
Sarah shook her head. "I imagine your so-called boyfriend will be out enjoying
himself, though."
Louise glanced away, saying nothing. Confident Sarah. Beautiful Sarah. Never
without a boyfriend, or a queue of would-be suitors to chose someone new from.
So easy for her to be critical, to be dismissive. Oh, to be blessed with just a
glimmer of that assuredness.
"Louise, you're a fool. When you should be studying during the week, he wants
to see you. And then every weekend while you're cramming the books trying to
catch up, he's out having a good time . . . " Sarah stopped abruptly.
"It's ok. I've heard all the stories."
Sarah's face flushed. "Well, if you ask me, you should give him a taste of his
own medicine."
Louise laughed bitterly. "And who would want me?"
"Most men, if you'd lift your head out of the books long enough to give them a
chance." Sarah pursed her lips. "So?"
"So what?"
"So what are you going to do about it?"
Louise looked at her friend carefully, and then smiled. "I'm going to go
upstairs to make sure room 17 is nice and tidy for Mrs Coombes."
* * * * * * *
Number 17 was located at the far end of the second floor, the furthest room from
the main staircase and the small lift that served the hotel. There was no 'Do
not disturb' sign hanging from the door knob. Louise knocked twice. No answer.
She checked her watch: well after eleven. She slipped her pass key into the
lock and let herself inside.
The double bed was totally astray; duvet, sheets, pillows, all spread
indiscriminately about the queen-sized mattress. Louise sighed. It wasn't the
first time a guest had extracted a moment's petty revenge in return for services
they felt they'd been denied.
She yanked the crumpled sheets from the bed, dropping them in a bundle on the
floor. She folded the quilt and stacked the pillows neatly, then turned towards
the door to fetch fresh linen. As she walked, she noticed the barely open
bathroom door, and simultaneously heard the splashing of water from inside.
Louise froze. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she listened to the
splashing. Why hadn't the man said anything? Probably feeling as awkward as
she did, hoping that she would realise the room wasn't empty and just leave.
She started for the door. She half turned the handle and then stopped.
She looked back towards the bathroom. Mr Ross was a complainer, and a petty
complainer at that. A quick taste of humiliation might be a fitting
retaliation.
Louise knocked on the bathroom door, and stepped through onto the tiled floor
without waiting for an answer.
"Mr R-"
There was already a picture of Mr Ross in her head. Early to mid-fifties, bald,
overweight, with owlish glasses and varicose veins. The reality did not compare
well with her imagination.
Room 17's occupant was in his early forties. His thick hair was prematurely
steel-grey, the only part of him that didn't come as a complete surprise. His
tanned, lean body was stretched out as fully as the narrow hotel bath would
allow, the heels of his feet resting on the edge of the bath on either side of
the taps.
Mr Ross did not turn to question Louise's intrusion. The cable from the
headphones he wore over his ears ran down to a small CD player sitting on a low
stool beside the bath. Louise could hear faint classical music escaping out
into the room.
But none of this really held her attention.
Oblivious to the presence of his chambermaid, Mr Ross continued to stroke the
thick shaft of his cock with his right hand. His left hand floated near the
surface of the bubbled water. Louise could see that his fingers were
alternating between stirring the heavy balls, and pressing a spot midway between
his testicles and his anus.
Louise swallowed with difficulty. At nineteen, she thought she had amassed
enough experience of the opposite sex to consider herself 'a woman'. She had
always dismissed tales of oversized men as fanciful at best. But here was
proof. He was huge. As she gaped, Mr Ross rolled back his foreskin, exposing a
bulbous, crimson cockhead. The shaft looked at least nine inches long, as dark
as the rest of Mr Ross and lined with heavy veins that nurtured his evident
arousal.
Quick! Leave!
The man had complained about a poorly made bed. If he turned around now, saw
her watching him intently, she would lose her job for sure. But despite her
fear and embarrassment, something held her in place. Her eyes seemed unwilling,
unable, to relinquish the sight before her. As she watched, she was distantly
aware of other sensations, of unsettling ripples that coursed through her belly,
of sly heat blooming between her thighs.
Mr Ross' hips began lifting out of the water, timed to meet the stroking of his
hand over his shaft. His face contorted, his pace quickening. Some water
splashed over the edge of the bath and pooled on the tiles below.
Louise felt the divide within her widen. Fight or flight? Flight was obvious.
But what would fight mean? Confronting him? Yelling her disgust at him?
Joining him?
The sense of confusion was awesome. Her feet inched backwards of their own
accord, while her trembling hands clutched the edge of the door as though to
anchor her to the experience. She hovered at the threshold. Each breath seemed
to snag in her chest. She knew she was becoming moist behind the thin white
veil of her cotton panties. A hundred taboo images flickered through her mind
like a film gone wild. One hand had strayed almost to the hem of her skirt
before the remnants of her rationality dragged it back.
And then it happened.
Mr Ross groaned deeply, and Louise stared as jet after jet of thick white fluid
spurted from the narrow opening in his cockhead. The come splattered across Mr
Ross' chest and belly, clinging to his skin in places, slipping down into the
water in others, and for a wild, thrilling moment she wondered how it would be
to feel it splashing across her own skin.
Oh God!
As Mr Ross squeezed the last remnants of ejaculate from his cock, he turned his
head languidly towards the bathroom door. His clear blue eyes locked with
Louise's, and for the few seconds that passed before her limbs felt able to
respond to her once more, she thought she saw the hint of an arrogant smile
forming across his lips.
Flight!
"I'm sorry," she stammered, already spinning away from the bathroom. "I'll come
back later."
"Hey!"
Louise closed her ears to his shouts, sprinting for the door.
* * * * * * *
Sarah found her sitting alone in what passed for the staff lounge. Sarah poured
them both a coffee and then sat down opposite Louise.
"What's wrong?" Sarah asked. "Has the old bat been having a go again?"
"Huh?" Louise looked up, trying to push the vicarious images from her head.
"No, I haven't seen Mrs Coombes since I saw you."
Sarah waited. "What was it then?"
"What was what?"
"Whatever it was that's managed to make you look more miserable than you did an
hour ago."
Louise considered saying nothing. But Sarah was a good friend. Even better,
she was discreet. Louise swallowed a mouthful of coffee, and then recanted the
entire episode. By the end, Sarah looked as flushed as she felt herself.
But even through the fear and the shame, there was still that feeling of . . .
something.
Sarah drained the last of her coffee and shook her head. "You actually saw
him-"
"Yes," Louise said abruptly. Mrs Coombes was loitering near the entrance to the
staff lounge.
"Haven't you finished those yet, girls?"
"Just coming," Sarah said sweetly.
Mrs Coombes hovered a few seconds longer, then disappeared. Her flat-heeled
shoes clacked heavily down the narrow corridor.
"Bitch," said Sarah. She pushed the two empty cups together on the small table,
and leaned forward conspiratorially. "So what was this Mr Ross like?"
"He was good-looking, I suppose. Older than-"
"You know what I'm talking about." Sarah grinned. "Was he a big boy?"
Louise blushed, the image of Ross vivid in her mind. "Very."
"Really?"
Louise nodded.
Sarah said nothing for a few seconds, her eyes far away. "What do you think
will happen?"
"Aren't I supposed to ask you that?" Louise sat back in her seat. "I don't
know. He complained about a badly-made bed. What's he likely to say about a
chambermaid who watched him . . . "
"That was as much his fault." Sarah's finger wagged seriously. "He could have
used the 'do not disturb' sign like he was meant to." Her expression became
thoughtful. "Perhaps he wanted to be caught. There are plenty of people who
get off on being watched."
"And how would you know?"
Sarah winked. "I'm not always a good convent girl," she said, and then she
laughed. Louise joined her. The laughter felt good, refreshing.
Sarah smiled. "So what next?"
Louise shrugged. "Sit tight, wait to see if he complains. Perhaps he'll be too
embarrassed to say anything. I hope so. If he reports me, I'll lose my job."
"So go and see him first. Explain that it was just an innocent mistake."
"Innocent mistake?" Louise leant close. "He caught me watching him
masturbating!"
Sarah shrugged. "So? Hardly qualifies as crime of the century, does it?"
"Maybe not."
There was a loud clacking approaching the doorway. Mrs Coombes frowned at the
two girls. "Sarah! Room twenty three isn't going to clean itself. It needs to
be finished before one."
Sarah rolled her eyes inconspicuously. "On my way, Mrs Coombes."
The head housekeeper turned to leave and then stopped. "Oh, Louise?"
"Yes, Mrs Coombes?"
"There's a guest who'd like a word with you. Mr Ross, from room 17. You'll find
him in the main lounge."
* * * * * * *
The fully-dressed version of Mr Ross was sitting at the marble-topped bar.
There was a glass of tomato juice on a coaster in front of him. His clear blue
eyes found Louise's in the mirror beneath the row of optics. He turned round
slowly on his bar stool, and smiled warmly.
"Hello, Louise."
"Err . . . hello."
Mr Ross' clothes - a plain, mid-blue shirt, and sand-coloured chinos - were
well-cut, barely hinting at the muscled body she had seen barely forty minutes
ago. They looked expensive. Scarcely worn tan deck-shoes adorned his bare
feet. His only pieces of visible jewellery were a chunky watch on a heavy steel
strap, and a plain gold wedding band on the fourth finger of his left hand.
Ross ran his hand across a chin lightly dusted with stubble. "I'm sorry if I
embarrassed you earlier. I wasn't expecting any . . . callers at that time. But
then you probably realised that."
Louise nodded, feeling her cheeks burn again. "Are you going to make a
complaint about me, Mr . . . Ross?"
"Do you think I should?" His gaze narrowed inscrutably.
There was something in his air of arrogant authority that provoked her. "I
can't advise you on that. It's a decision for you."
Ross nodded. "And what would happen if I did complain?"
Louise said nothing.
"I imagine that you'd lose your job, especially if I kicked up enough of a
stink."
"Probably," Louise said after a few seconds.
"Almost certainly, I'd say." Ross sipped at his tomato juice. "Is this a
full-time job, Louise?"
"I'm a college student. I only do this at weekends."
"So the money's important?"
"Yes." She could have added 'very' or 'extremely'. But why give him more
reason to gloat?
Ross put down his glass. "I won't be making a complaint, Louise."
Louise felt the tightness in her chest ease. "Thank you," she said, beginning
to smile.
Ross raised a hand. "There is a condition though."
Louise felt her smile drain away. "What is it?"
Ross motioned for her to take the stool next to him. "I'm a stranger in town,
on important business. Hence my being here at a weekend. I have several clients
coming to see me this evening, and I've decided to entertain them here at the
hotel. In my room, in fact."
He ran a hand through his steel-grey hair. "I'd like to try and achieve a
certain . . . ambience, shall we say? I'd like to have some staff to assist me,
to take care of the menial stuff, while I get on with the dealing." He smiled.
"Would you be interested in helping me out?"
Louise sat back a fraction. "It's not really a request, is it?"
Ross shook his head. "I'm not trying to blackmail you, Louise. If you don't
want to help me, you don't have to. It won't make me change my mind about the
complaint."
"No?"
"No." he raised his hand again, the middle three fingers upright. "Scout's
honour."
Louise looked away. "I'm not sure."
"Ah," said Ross, nodding. "You already have a date with your boyfriend."
"No, not tonight. It's just that . . . "
"Louise, I really need some help. It's not the most glamorous of offers, but
I'll make it worth your while." He looked at her seriously. "I'll pay you one
hundred pounds for the night's work. Eight until midnight. Just a bit of
fetching and carrying. What do you say?"
Louise shook her head. "I don't know what to say."
"That's easy," Ross said. "Say yes."
"Can I think about it for a while?"
Ross glanced at his watch. "I really need to know within the next hour. So
that I can make some other arrangements."
Louise slid off the bar stool. She was conscious of the way her skirt rode up
over her thighs, and of the way that Ross' eyes seemed to follow her flesh.
"I'll get back to you soon."
"I know you will."
* * * * * * *
Louise found Sarah emerging from room 23. She pressed her back into the room
and closed the door behind them. She explained the proposition. After a minute
Sarah still hadn't answered.
"So?"
Sarah's eyes screwed up thoughtfully. "Do you really think it's a straight
offer?"
"I'm not sure." Louise pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and
forefinger. "He seems genuine. And I could really use a hundred pounds."
Sarah laughed. "What for?"
Louise ignored the remark. "Besides, what could happen here in the hotel? I'll
make sure everybody knows where I am and what I'm doing."
"I think I'd pass. It sounds . . . " Sarah shook her head.
"It sounds what?"
"I don't know. A little weird."
"You're just jealous because for once it's me that got asked to dance." Louise
opened the door.
"Louise?"
"What?"
The concern on Sarah's face looked genuine. "Just make sure that you get what
you want."
* * * * * * *
Ross was on the same bar stool when she returned. Louise walked as confidently
as she could towards him. This time his eyes did not find hers in the mirror.
"Mr Ross?"
Ross looked up from his tomato juice. "Hello, Louise. Do I take it you've made
a decision?"
"Yes." She swallowed. "I'll do it."
The pleasure on Ross' face appeared as genuine as Sarah's concern. "Good. I'll
see you at my room, eight p.m." His eyes twinkled. "I think you know where it
is."
Louise turned to leave.
"Oh, Louise?."
"Yes?"
Ross smiled. "Please make sure you're wearing your maid's outfit."
* * * * * * *
She started getting ready at six p.m. The anticipation had been balling up in
the pit of her stomach for hours.
First she showered off the remnants of the day, washing and conditioning her
hair, before soaking luxuriously for a whole hour in a camomile bath. Each time
she closed her eyes she saw Ross' hand working slowly up and down his thick
cock, and each time she experienced the strangely disconcerting ripples through
her core, and the heat rising between her legs.
She dried herself, then started to put on her plain working underwear. For some
reason she hesitated, then dropped the white cotton back onto the bed and
returned to her underwear draw. Her eyes roamed over the scattered items
inside. After a few moments, she pulled out a black bra with lacy cups and
matching panties.
She was about to close the drawer when the suspender belt in the corner caught
her eye. Without really knowing why, other than that it felt right, she picked
up the belt, and then, after a few seconds' more hunting, a pair of sheer black
stockings.
She dressed in front of the full-length wall mirror. Her hands trembled
fractionally when she fastened her bra, and clipped the four suspenders to her
stocking tops. She gazed at her reflection. It was one she had not seen often.
How many times had she dressed so deliberately provocatively? Twice? Three
times? And always for Martin. Never for herself though. She almost felt
embarrassed. The top halves of both nipples were visible through the bra's lace
front, and the light shimmered decadently against her stockinged thighs.
You look like a slut, she thought. But an attractive slut nonetheless. There
was no denying that her reflection looked good.
Louise smiled, then set about applying her make-up.
"Taxi's here," her mother called from downstairs.
"Ok."
She examined her reflection again. The black blouse and knee-length skirt
looked serious, almost severe. Where's the slut now? The medium heeled shoes
leant her height without robbing her of grace. The final touch was a mist of
Chanel applied to the insides of her wrists and the side of her neck. As though
inspired by the same muse who had influenced her choice of lingerie, she sprayed
some perfume into her cleavage.
Then she went downstairs
* * * * * * *
The door to room 17 opened just as Louise prepared to knock.
"Hello again," said Mr Ross. His dark-blue suit looked formal, business-like.
There was no denying that he was an attractive man. He opened the door wide and
offered her the room.
"Hello," Louise said, stepping hesitantly inside.
"It's just us," Ross said. "My guests won't be here for quarter of an hour or
so." He closed the door, then took Louise's heavy coat. "Can I get you a
drink?"
Louise looked at him carefully. "I thought I was here to work."
"You are." Ross smiled his big, reassuring smile. "But that doesn't mean
you're here to have a miserable time. Surely I can offer you some refreshment?"
"I'd like a Coke if you have one."
Ross moved to the large selection of bottles lined up on the bureau. "I think
you can afford to have something a little stronger than a soft drink, Louise."
His expression was warm and encouraging. Louise smiled back. "A Bacardi and
Coke then, please."
"That's better," Ross said. He handed her a three-quarters full glass. Louise
took a sip. It was very strong, but the warm alcohol sliding down her throat
felt good. She took a long pull on her drink.
"What exactly will I be doing tonight?" she asked.
"General waitressing, I'm afraid, " Ross answered. He sat down in one of the
four chairs arranged around the square coffee table. "There are hors d'oeuvres
in the fridge, and obviously you'll be responsible for ensuring that nobody has
an empty glass for too long." He smiled.
"Sounds easy enough."
"It is." Ross pulled a leather wallet from the inside of his expensive looking
suit jacket. His wedding ring glinted in the soft light. Its presence
reassured her. Ross pulled out five crisp twenty pound notes. There was a
great deal of money left inside.
Ross held out the notes to Louise. "This should be the easiest hundred pounds
you've ever made."
Louise reached for the money. Ross' fingers were warm and dry. By contrast,
the notes felt cold and sharp in her palm. "Will it be purely business
tonight?"
"I hope not," Ross laughed. "I'm trying to impress them, so the emphasis will
be on having a good time. I imagine someone will produce a deck of cards at
some point. High stakes poker tends to be a habit at this sort of shindig."
The first guests arrived as Louise was setting out the last of the hors
d'oeuvres plates. Two more married men (from the wedding rings on their left
hands), both in their early forties, both wearing ties and dark suits. Louise
showed them into the room, and then waited while Ross greeted them.
"This is Louise," Ross gestured when the handshaking was over. "She's going to
be taking care of us tonight."
Louise smiled thinly and nodded hello.
Ross waved his friends to sit down. "Drinks?"
Both men nodded. The first - Mr Ross had called him Tom - asked for a vodka and
tonic. The other man, Philip, had requested a whiskey in a London accent: "No
water or ice if it's a single malt."
Louise poured the drinks. The men were talking business amongst themselves, but
she could sense their eyes moving over her whenever her back was to them. The
neck of the whisky bottle chattered briefly against the wide tumbler. She
hadn't thought this through properly. The prospect of a hundred pounds for a
few hours easy work had seduced her common sense.
She placed the glasses on a tray and carried them over to the waiting men. She
tried smiling. Putting herself in this situation, alone in a hotel room with
three strangers, was a mistake, something she wasn't used to making. But even
as she cursed herself, there was another feeling. It was not dissimilar to the
sense she experienced whenever a good-looking boy's gaze locked with hers at a
nightclub, or when someone she felt attracted to asked her out for a date. It
was the flush that came from knowing you were desirable, and even here, in this
room with these strangers, it was not an entirely unpleasant sensation.
The man called Tom stood up and walked over to the window. It was full dark
outside, and he pressed his nose to the glass as he gazed into the street below.
He was as tall and lean as Ross, with a blonde crew-cut and a narrow, sculpted
face.
"Good choice," he said. His voice, like Ross', sounded educated, refined.
Ross nodded. "I thought so."
Tom turned around and looked at Louise. She felt herself tremble a little at
the way his eyes roamed over her body. She glanced away from his devastating
gaze, only to notice that the man called Philip looked equally entranced with
her.
There was another knock at the door. Louise turned to look at Ross.
"Would you mind getting that for me?" he asked.
This time there was a single person at the door. He was about the same age as
the others, smart but casually dressed in an open necked shirt, chinos and a
three-quarter length brown leather jacket. A thin scar showed whitely down his
tanned cheek. His eyes appeared almost black in the low light.
"Hello," he said, in a hard, neutral voice. "Stuart is expecting me."
"Stuart?" Louise looked at him blankly. "Oh, you mean Mr Ross."
"That's right."
Louise stepped to one side, blushing. The new arrival handed her his leather
jacket and walked over to meet his host.
Ross stood up. "Good to see you, Jack."
"You too." The two men shook hands. Then the new arrival glanced back over his
shoulder at Louise. "I've been looking forward to being entertained all day."
* * * * * * *
By eleven o'clock, a good deal of the alcohol on the bureau was gone. The four
men had talked business for over an hour, while Louise tip-toed around them,
serving food and refilling glasses. Then, just as Stuart Ross had predicted, a
deck of cards had materialised on the coffee table.
The poker was ruthless, deep piles of notes sliding back and forth across the
varnished surface with alarming alacrity. No one seemed able to achieve
dominance over the proceedings. Louise watched from the sidelines, fascinated
by the high stakes, and by the way the four men pursued each others money.
She finished her drink. Was it her fifth or sixth? The room suddenly seemed
very stuffy and confined. It almost felt as though she were floating. It was
definitely her last.
As she placed her empty glass down on the bureau, Stuart Ross materialised at
her side. Behind her, Louise could hear the others still talking animatedly
about the last hand.
"Another drink?" Ross asked, refilling his own glass.
"No, I think I've reached my limit, thanks."
"Don't be silly. I'll make sure you get your taxi."
Philip, the businessman from the south-east, called over to them from across the
room. "I'm bored with taking your money now, Stuart."
"What would you suggest as an alternative, then?"
Philip rifled the deck of cards with his thumb. "How about a few hands of strip
poker?"
"Only if the maid will play with us," Tom laughed.
Jack watched Louise thoughtfully. "Not a bad idea."
Louise smiled mock-regretfully. "Thanks for the invitation," she said. "But
I'll have to decline."
The three men sighed collectively.
Louise froze as a hand touched her hip. Stuart Ross' mouth pressed down against
her bare neck, as the same hand slipped across the front of her skirt. "Don't
be so quick to decline, Louise," he whispered against her skin. "Not when
you're so exquisitely dressed for any game."
Louise twisted to pull away, but Ross wrapped his free arm around her chest,
pulling her tight against him and binding her arms to her sides.
"What the hell do you think-" Louise watched almost unbelievingly as Ross'
other hand disappeared beneath her skirt. His palm moved fast up her legs,
hardly pausing to plunder the creamy, bare flesh at the tops of her thighs.
When his hand started to press inside the front of her lacy panties, she acted.
She stamped down and backwards, aiming instinctively for Ross' instep. Her heel
connected with something, and Ross cursed, and then laughed. The grip about her
shoulders never eased for a second.
Ross' fingers raked down through the luxuriant curls that adorned her mound, and
then Louise gasped as first one finger, and then a second, made contact with her
clitoris.
Louise's eyes closed and she sagged back against Ross. For an instant she felt
like she was floating, as though she could turn around at any moment and watch
from a safe distance as this happened to somebody else. Not to her.
Not to her.
Get a grip, her mind screamed.
It was difficult, holding onto the angry, bitter thoughts of resistance in her
mind. This is wrong. Wrong. The two fingers were rotating around her
clitoris, slowly, delicately, skilfully, mercilessly. Wrong. Over and around,
over and around, over and around, tracing the delicate bud in endless patterns.
Wrong. She struggled against Ross' unyielding grip. Wrong. But nice. So
nice.
"Don't," she whimpered. She had meant to shout the word, to scream it, but a
whimper was all that emerged from her mouth. She hadn't invited his touch. So
why wasn't she yelling loudly enough to shatter glass?
What's wrong with you?
"Don't," she whimpered again, but no one seemed to hear her. She could barely
hear herself.
Wrong. Nice. Wrong. Nice. She didn't want his touch. Did she? Did she?
No. Yes. No. Yes. It was hard trying to keep her thoughts coherent, with the
cries of resistance in her head, and the delicious waves of pleasure flowing out
from her core. Her sex was wet, and getting wetter with every devilish
revolution of his fingertips. She could feel Ross' erection hard against her
buttocks, thrusting desperately, futilely, against her ass. She knew what he
thinking about. He wanted to slide that long, wide cock inside her, wanted to
FUCK HER with it over and over again. The knowledge terrified and excited her
all at once
Ross slowly withdrew his hand from Louise's panties, and though a part of her
mind cried out with relief, another part wailed in frustration.
It was hard to know which was the louder voice.
Ross lifted his fingers to his nose and inhaled. Then he slipped them into his
mouth. "Delicious," he purred.
Before Louise could react, Ross' hand was inside her panties once more, fingers
probing softly between her swollen labia, along the line of her ever-moistening
cleft. Louise gasped as Ross crooked two fingers and eased them up inside her.
Wrong. Nice. Stop. Don't stop. Her head swam, and she hardly noticed the arm
that had pinned her arms to her sides relaxing its steel-like hold. Ross' other
hand slipped inside the front of her panties, and he began stroking her clitoris
as he leisurely finger-fucked her.
Louise closed her eyes, imagining a guitar being strummed and plucked by
sensual, Latin fingers. From somewhere she heard a voice moaning "Oh, yes" over
and over and over again. After a while, she realised that the voice was her
own.
"Help me to get her ready," Ross said in a low voice, still kissing and biting
gently down the side of Louise's neck.
Louise opened her eyes dreamily. The other men stood around her in a rough
semi-circle. They were all completely naked. Three hard cocks jutted hungrily
towards her. The knowledge that all three were for her flooded her senses.
Without another word, Jack got down on his knees before her. He untied her
apron, and then slid his fingers along the waistband of her skirt until they
encountered the fastenings. The skirt hardly made a sound as it slid to the
floor and pooled around her shoes.
As though in a trance, Louise lifted her feet in turn to allow Jack to remove
the skirt from around her ankles. Tom quickly moved to stand behind her,
replacing Ross even as Ross stepped away so that he could undress. Philip
stepped forward to join the throng, his fingers slowly moving over the buttons
of her blouse. His level gaze held hers all the time. Like the others, he was
attractive in a rugged, rather cruel way. The last button gave way before
Philip's hands, and Tom slid the blouse from her shoulders and dropped it on the
floor behind him.
Louise glanced down. The outlines of her hard nipples were clearly visible
through the black lace of her bra. As she looked at herself, Tom's fingers
traced down the narrow ridge of her spine until they found the slender bra
clasp. He unclipped it effortlessly, and Philip gradually eased the bra down
her arms, revealing her full, aching breasts. All the time, Jack's calm hands
ran up and down her nylon-sheathed legs, as he planted kisses against the naked
flesh above her stockings.
Something hard and insistent pressed against the inside of Louise's calf. She
closed her eyes again, concentrating on feeling only the hard thing as it thrust
back and forth against her flesh. A cock her mind whispered. Jack's cock. A
part of her was desperate to feel it against her naked skin.
Philip gazed at her body with eyes brimming with lust. "Leave the stockings,"
he said in a low voice.
"Yes," Tom said dreamily. "Leave the stockings."
Jack's strong fingers hooked into the waistline of her panties and with a
sudden, irresistible force, he tore the delicate material apart. He paused to
examine the remnants, exploring them with his eyes and his fingers. He raised
the gusset to his nose and inhaled deeply.
Louise waited, breathlessly. She didn't think she could say no now, even if she
wanted to. Her voice felt like it was locked away, somewhere deep inside her.
Jack dropped the remnants of her panties to the floor, and slid his warm hands
between the soft flesh of her closed thighs. Gently but undeniably, he pressed
them apart. Then, gazing straight into her eyes along the length of her supine
body, he pressed his mouth between Louise's thighs and eased his tongue inside
her already soaking cunt.
Louise cried out, a long, animal wail of pleasure. Her eyelids were too heavy
for her to stop them closing, and her head lolled back against Tom's broad
shoulder. Her entire body was a mass of sensation, as hands slid up over her
belly to cup her heavy breasts, fingers moved to pinch the taut, cherry-pink
nipples. From somewhere, lips began stitching kisses across the soft flesh of
her right breast, advancing towards its erect tip. A second mouth worked on her
left breast, suckling incessantly upon the stiff peak.
Jack's warm tongue slipped along her soaking cleft towards her clitoris. Round
and round it went, circling the delicate nub without ever quite touching it,
teasing her remorselessly. Louise tried sliding her hips, to move her clitoris
into a collision with his skilful tongue. The more she moved, the more his
tongue darted away. Eventually, he ceased caressing her legs, and sank his
fingers into her buttocks to hold her steady, so that his tongue only went where
he wanted it to.
A part of her still wanted to resist, wanted to scratch and kick and scream and
bite and tear and gouge. But that part of her was small, lost for now, buried
by her desire, her lust, by the pleasure coursing through her body. It would
return, and when it did it would be the voice of shame and regret. Perhaps.
But those were concepts beyond her for the time.
Now she knew which voice was louder, which voice was in control.
She felt restricted, confined, desperate to move. She longed to feel her own
hands running over her breasts and belly, in company with those of the strangers
on either side of her. She wanted to hear the hiss of her stockinged thighs
sliding back and forth against each other, squeezing her throbbing clitoris
tight between the swollen lips of her sex.
Jack's tongue flashed against her clitoris, driving a harsh cry of pleasure from
her lips. Immediately, he resumed his slow circling of the precious bud, then
made another lightening strike that barely grazed her clitoris, but which bucked
her hips wildly despite the tight grip on her ass.
Tom's rigid shaft nestled between the globes of her backside, and began to
thrust slowly up and down the
slender channel. Philip's cock rested against her belly, smearing a dew-drop of
come against her skin.
Oh, I'm so fucking horny!
Jack pulled back from her. As though he had plucked the thought from her mind,
he said: "I think she's ready now."
She looked down at him through half-open eyes. His gaze was dark and dangerous,
his face hungry and demanding. His mouth and chin gleamed with her juices.
"Yes," she heard Ross' voice say. She turned her head to face him. Ross stood
a few feet away, watching as the other men pleasured her. His hand moved
languidly back and forth along his massive cock. "I believe you're right."
Jack slid his hands down onto her ankles and stood up. Her legs came off the
ground as though she were weightless. As Jack moved, Tom pivoted smoothly from
behind her to cradle her right side, while Philip moved quickly to cradle her
left. The three men carried her with ease across the room. The sensation that
she could just float away and watch as though it were happening to someone else
overtook her again.
They laid her softly on the bed, then, unexpectedly, rolled her onto her belly.
Jack took hold of Louise's hips and pulled her up into a kneeling position,
while Tom and Philip held her arms to keep her upper body pressed against the
mattress. Her feet dangled over the bed's edge, and her breasts were tight
against the counterpane.
She was being offered.
Louise struggled to turn her head and look behind her. She watched as Jack
moved aside, allowing Ross, their leader, to take his place. He was to be the
first to sample her flesh. The first of many. The thought made Louise feel
dizzy.
Ross crouched behind her, and his hands gently pressed her cheeks apart, opening
her most intimate self to his gaze.
"Quite lovely," he said, softly stroking the swollen labia with his fingertips.
"Quite, quite lovely."
Louise watched his head dip towards her, and, almost at once, felt his hot
tongue rake down her glistening valley. Again, she cried out in passion, this
time forcing her eyes to stay open.
Ross smiled back at her. "And so very delicious," he said.
He stood up. He ran his fingers between her labia, and then transferred her
juices to his cock. Louise felt the enormous cockhead probe gently between her
burning labia. His size terrified and thrilled her. The broad shaft slid up
and down in the cleft of her ass, the underside of the head grazing her anus at
the apex of each thrust. Then the direction reversed, so that with each stroke,
the cockhead and the top of the shaft dragged across her clitoris, inflaming her
still further.
Louise gasped with each agonisingly slow thrust.
Eventually, Ross dragged his cockhead up through her drenched slit. She felt it
sink slightly into her, so that it was nuzzling at the opening to her sex.
Ross sighed. "I knew you were the one, Louise. The moment I saw the hunger in
your eyes as you watched me pleasuring myself, I knew you were going to be the
one for us."
Louise cried out as Ross' immense cock slowly buried itself in the depths of her
cunt, filling her as she had never been filled before. She felt his cockhead
touch the bottom of her womb, and simultaneously, his heavy balls come to rest
against her clitoris. Then he began to thrust in and out, poised, even strokes
that seemed to take forever because of his exceptional length.
The pressure on her arms that was holding her down faded. Louise rubbed her
face against the soft bedcovers as she lost herself in the ecstasy of the flesh.
Someone climbed onto the bed ahead of her, and a strong hand cupped her chin,
lifting her face.
Louise looked up.
Jack knelt before her, leisurely massaging his shaft with one hand. He slipped
his free hand onto the back of her head, and pulled her mouth towards his cock.
Louise's mind struggled to form the word. Never before had she taken a man into
her mouth. She had thought about it, sometimes even felt a wild urge to do it.
But something about the act had always seemed forbidden, taboo.
The cockhead pressed against her bright red lips, then drew back. She could see
traces of her lipstick smearing across it.
"Please-"
"Hush," Jack said softly. "Pleasure me. You'll enjoy it too."
"N-"
"Suck my cock, Louise."
Louise felt hands return to her breasts, sensuously kneading her flesh, pinching
the taut nipples until she whimpered, while all the time Ross' fat cock
continued to fuck her steadily into ecstasy.
And inevitably, her body overwhelmed by a myriad of sexual sensation, Louise
opened her lips, and Jack's cock slid easily into her willing mouth.
Louise hesitated for a moment, and then some deep, carnal instinct took over.
Her tongue began to flick and swirl across the straining cockhead, eager to take
experience, to give pleasure. His cock had a manly, slightly piquant taste and
odour. Jack lifted her hand, and placed it onto his shaft. Louise dipped the
tip of her tongue into the narrow opening at the end of the cock, and slowly
drew the foreskin forward. She tasted the small drop of pre-come, and swallowed
it greedily. Her fingers moved between his thighs and delicately stroked the
heavy balls. She cupped them in her palm, marvelling at their weight.
"Yes!" Jack hissed between clenched teeth. Louise began to slide her mouth
back and forth along his shaft, and he placed his hands on the back of her head
to control the pace of their oral fucking.
The bed creaked as the men on either side of Louise moved closer. Something
hard and unyielding pressed against her right breast, and she glanced down the
length of her inverted body to see Tom rubbing the end of his cock against her
taut nipple, still stroking himself all the time. The same sensation appeared
against her left breast, as Philip pressed his own cock into her flesh.
Ross placed his hands over her hips, binding her to him. The point of their
union trembled and sparked, building towards an orgasm which threatened to drown
Louise's meagre experience. The intensity frightened her. Even so, she drove
herself back to meet his thrusts, her cunt aching to be flooded with warm come.
Ross slipped one hand down her belly until his palm nestled against her mound.
His fingers settled over her throbbing clitoris, and began caressing it in time
to the strokes of his endless cock.
Louise's orgasm blossomed before Ross' artful manipulation of her body. She
quickened the pace of her mouth over Jack's shaft, tightening her lips into a
smooth 'o' for his cock to fuck. She was desperate to share the divine pleasure
that filled her. The two cocks against her nipples were stoking her lust even
higher.
Orgasm was like death. For a moment there were no sounds, no sensations. Just
a blinding light, like a flashgun fired inside her mind. Then pleasure, an
incredible outrush of pleasure, wider and faster and stronger than anything she
had ever anticipated. Like the wall of debris sweeping out from an explosion,
it tore through her, jangling her like a helpless marionette.
Louise screamed, felt a strong hand clamp across her mouth to quieten her,
screamed again and again. Every part of her felt alive, every atom dancing in
rapture. And at the eye of the storm, her cunt, overloaded with sensation,
pulsing in ecstasy.
The brilliance before her eyes faded. Jack's hard cock hovered inches from her
face. She couldn't even remember taking it out of her mouth. The memory of its
presence had been battered away. Louise reached for the straining organ,
slipped it back between her lips. How quickly we learn, a distant part of her
mind whispered.
Louise didn't care. She had no time for inner monologues. She was like a punch
drunk boxer; all that mattered was the next hit, the next blinding sensation.
She sucked hard on Jack's cockhead, stroking his shaft at a near frantic speed.
Jack cried out, his body locked rigid, trembling as if an electric current
coursed through his veins. Louise felt the underside of his shaft spasm against
her tongue. She withdrew slightly, not certain if she could cope with his
orgasm.
A jet of warm sperm splashed across her cheek. Jack pulled her head back
towards him, and his slippery cock slid back inside her mouth, jerking as
another surge of come splashed over her tongue. Louise swallowed desperately,
afraid to stop, yet relishing the salty-sweet taste of his seed.
With only the bulbous glans of his cock in her mouth, Jack gripped his shaft and
wanked himself into Louise's mouth. She swallowed everything, even reaching up
to fondle his balls to ensure he held nothing back from her.
Jack's wilting cock slipped from between her come-slicked lips. Louise fell
forward, panting, hardly aware
that Ross had also withdrawn from her flesh. To her left, Philip was stretching
out on his back on his side of the bed. He slipped himself towards the centre,
carefully lifting Louise's knee to allow him to slip between her thighs.
Once again, rational thought deserted her as he positioned himself at the
entrance to her sex, and slid his hard cock inside her.
Oh God! Is this really happening to me?
Her cunt, though achingly aware of the reduced dimensions, grasped Philip's
shaft eagerly between its velvety walls. She began to rise and fall on the new
cock, enjoying the delicious way Philip's pubic bone pressed against her
clitoris each time he entered her to the hilt. Philip lifted his head, suckled
on her nipples in turn. His tongue swirled over the stiff crowns, his teeth
gently pulling on her sensitive flesh. Louise groaned, losing herself in the
rhythm of their mating. She reached behind herself to fondle his balls.
"No, no," Tom's voice said from behind her. "That won't do."
Someone moved her hand aside, and Louise felt the tip of a stiff cock press
against her tightly puckered ass. She turned her head so she could see his
face, so that she could tell him no, and then the lights dimmed and the sighs
and groans and the smack of flesh against flesh faded from her ears as Tom's
cockhead pressed inside her ass.
"Oh God!" she gasped, as the thin wall of flesh between her vagina and her anus
was sandwiched, massaged, between the steadily thrusting shafts. Without the
need for words, the two cocks eased into a smooth, alternating rhythm. Philip's
prick was hard against her cervix, while Tom was barely within her flesh; then,
the two shafts reversed, passing each other, until Philip's glans was merely
grazing her labia and clitoris, and the full length of Tom's cock was deep
inside her ass.
Now it was the turn of Ross and Jack to kneel on either side of her. They
massaged their shafts in symphony with the scene before them. Jack's cock
already showed signs of returning to life, while Ross' erection had not dwindled
since Louise had felt it pressing against her ass at the bar. How long ago was
that? It was only a few minutes ago, but it felt more like hours. A lifetime
ago. Dreamily, she reached out for the two cocks, stroked them gently, eyes
closed, luxuriating in the pleasure of being filled by two men while she
pleasured two more.
Louise drew Ross and Jack towards her, slipping first one cock, then the other,
inside her mouth. As she sucked one cock, she stroked the other. She loved
how the thick foreskins rolled back, gradually revealing the burnished heads
beneath; she adored the weight of their heavy balls against her palm when she
cupped them.
How quickly we learn to accept pleasure. And to give it.
The two men groaned their approval at her ministerings. They each cupped one of
Louise's breasts, rubbing their thumbs across her hard nipples. The cocks
inside her were hastening their pace, both men moving relentlessly towards their
climaxes. The fires of a second orgasm were rising inside her too. Her body
felt soft, malleable. It seemed absurd, the way she had surrendered, allowing
herself to be used by these men as a receptacle for their lust. Why had she
done that? Because she was afraid?
No.
Because she knew that she was taking just as much pleasure from them? Perhaps
even more.
Tom cried out, a low sound of lust and satisfaction. His nails bit deep into
Louise's buttocks, dragging across her soft, pliant flesh, igniting a thousand
nerves beneath the creamy skin. His cock juddered, and Louise felt the first
hot splash of his come deep inside her ass. She cried out. The first ever. It
left her feeling denigrated and alive.
Am I a woman now? Now that I understand everything that they're capable of?
Everything that I'm capable of?
Philip groaned loudly, his own orgasm seemingly not far behind Tom's. It was
hard to read his face: was that a look of triumph or defeat? Louise flashed
back on the poker game, the competitive way the two men had gone after each
other's money. Had they still been competing, using her as a playing field?
And if so, what had been the goal? To beat the other man to ejaculation, or to
outlast him? Had Philip lost or won?
Who cares?
She wanted to tell Philip to pull out, not to come inside her sex. But the
significance of the words kept fading in comparison to the sheer bliss of those
two cocks, separated by the merest wall of flesh, rubbing against each other
inside her body. In the end she said nothing.
Common sense seemed fated to take second place to lust tonight.
Philip's cock throbbed deeply as his seed spurted into her cunt. Tom's cock
still twitched inside her
ass, only oozing now.
"Enjoy, Louise," Ross groaned, the head of his cock suddenly finding its way to
her lips. "Enjoy!" As she watched, the fleshy shaft began to throb, and Louise
pulled him inside her mouth in time to feel his warm come surge over her waiting
tongue.
And even as Ross came, Louise felt the underside of Jack's shaft start to
pulsate against her palm, and she stroked it even more desperately, turning her
face to receive his second gift to her. She pulled him closer, so that both
cocks rested against her lips. A second deluge of sperm flooded her mouth,
cascading over her chin, running down onto her heaving breasts.
It was almost too much to endure. She screamed out again as her second orgasm
ripped through her body, carrying her towards the edge of consciousness.
Light and sound gradually returned to her. Louise felt weak, drained. Spent.
Sweat was cooling all over her body now. She licked her lips absently, and
tasted semen. She lifted a hand, ran it across the tops of her breasts: it felt
like they had showered her in the stuff.
Tom had already withdrawn his flaccid cock from her ass, while Ross and Jack had
moved away from her to perch on the edge of the bed. Without speaking, Louise
rolled off Philip's prone form, and walked slightly unevenly to the bar. Their
hot eyes were on her nakedness again, but she no longer cared. She poured a
large measure of Bacardi into a glass and added an equal measure of Coke. The
drink was sharp, biting. She could feel it stripping her palate clean.
For what? The dessert course?
She looked down at herself. The come was drying in streaks across her breasts.
She could see a dozen places where red bite marks marred the paleness of her
skin. Two of the suspender straps had come unclipped from her twisted
stockings. She stopped looking and took another long pull at her drink. She
was glad there were no mirrors nearby. God knew what her hair and her face
looked like.
Like a slut.
Sarah's words of caution flooded back to her. Too late, Louise thought
bitterly. But there was another feeling, besides the bitterness and the shame
and the regret, and she tried to ignore it, because of the danger of its
implications. Because it was the feeling of satisfaction
She looked around the room for her scattered clothes, gathered them up, always
aware of the eyes that followed her around the room. No one had spoken since it
had ended. Were they waiting for her to leave? Hoping she would stay?
She clutched her uniform to her body and looked towards the exit. Leaving would
be easy now. They wouldn't stop her. Why should they? They'd already had what
they wanted. Perhaps they did want her to leave, so that she could take the
guilt with her. Once she was gone, they could talk freely, laugh about their
adventure.
She glanced over at them. All four seemed touched by remorse; but that was not
the only emotion betrayed by their faces.
There was lust.
And if there had been a mirror for her to look in, what would she see? The same
mixture of guilt and yearning? Was that the true secret of sex? To be repulsed
and attracted by it all at once? She had expected to feel angry, to feel
enraged, but how was that possible now? She had surrendered to these strangers,
not through fear, but through desire.
The confusion was back, making her head throb. She felt just as she had in the
doorway of Ross' bathroom, a lifetime ago: compelled to flee, desperate to stay.
She could no longer be certain of what her intentions had been coming here
tonight. She looked at her clothes. Hadn't she dressed to provoke, to entice?
What is it that you want?
She stood in the centre of the room, clutching her clothes for a long time.
Then she turned to face the men.
"Finances are hard on students these days." She looked pointedly at the thick
piles of money on the card table. "So I'm sure that you'll be only too happy to
contribute all of that to this student's education fund."
The men glanced at each other. It was Ross that looked up at her first. "And
what can we expect in return for our contributions?" He smiled. "Your
silence?"
"Yes." Louise walked slowly back towards the bathroom door, dropping her
clothes as she went. She turned back at the doorway and smiled warmly. "And
the opportunity to clean me up before I go home."
