“Have a nice evening, madam.”
“I intend to, you too.”
The man stared unashamedly until she pulled away.
Having had a little thrill at the tollbooth, Heather started to contemplate the much bigger one coming her way. Her juices started to flow in anticipation. She took another slug of water.
The car park behind the club was half full. It did not open on a Wednesday night; this was an invites only evening.
Heather counted nineteen cars. The silver Lexus was Michael’s and the blue Fiesta belonged to Monica, which suggested seventeen paying customers were waiting inside. Nervous goosebumps broke out on her bare arms and her feet suddenly felt cold. This was a big night for her. Heather had entertained men inside the club many times before, but never before had she been paid for it, and never before had her actions been scripted.
A fifty-fifty split is what they had agreed. Paid-up and trustworthy members only. Michael was funding the overheads from his cut.
She wondered if she would have done this without payment. The answer was probably yes. The money only served to make it seem more sinful and to increase the sexual tension gripping every muscle in her body.
Heather sucked in a lungful of air, got out of the car, and went round the back to lift her bag out of the boot. After towing her bag across the car park, she pressed the button on the intercom.
Michael’s voice sounded reassuringly chirpy. “Hi, Heather, is that you?”
“You know it is. You can see me on the monitor.”
“So I can. And very sexy you look too.”
“Let me in, will you.”
The door buzzed as the electronic latch unlocked it. Heather gave the door the hard pull she knew it needed. All nerves evaporated in that moment. Having crossed the threshold she was now in role, the woman from over the river, here to entertain her paying customers.
It was the first time Heather had been alone in the changing room. Normally there were one or two women changing into their party costumes, or topping up their make-up. Sometimes there would be a few provocatively dressed women sitting on the wooden benches, having a chat and recharging their batteries while taking a well-earned break from the action out in the club.
She unzipped her small case to reveal a set of grey clothes, neatly folded and strapped into place. Grey would not have been the first color to bounce into Heather’s mind when choosing an outfit to wear to the club, but Michael had insisted on medium-grey panties, so the rest had to follow suit.
She stripped off and held on to a mental image of herself as a sex goddess. As she turned to open a locker, she realized four of them were already closed and locked.
The thought that some sexily dressed women were going to be present brought a smile to her face.
After hanging her travel clothes in the locker, she pulled those grey knickers up her legs and smoothed them out over contours of her pussy. Usually she liked G-strings or thongs, but tonight it had to be relatively large knickers. Grey stay-ups were followed by a charcoal-grey leather skirt. She did not wear a bra. The loose-fitting sparkly grey top had a neckline that plunged a good nine inches below her breasts. One of Michael’s favorite sayings popped into her head: “Give me a flash of your tantalizing tits.” It was a top that would definitely give him a flash or two.
Finally she stepped into a pair of brand-new transparent platform stilettos. Her bright red toenails poked out of the front. Aided by the small mirror on the back of the locker door, Heather applied some bright red lippy to match her toenails. The outfit now had a much-needed bit of color top and bottom. She was now dressed and ready to meet her audience.
Her heels made it hard to do anything other than strut out of the dressing room. Michael was waiting in the lobby.
“Fucking hell, girl, I didn’t realize grey could be so hot.” He leaned forward to kiss her on the lips. “Are you ready for this?”
“Do I not look ready?”
“You certainly do. Now we’ve got seventeen guys and four ladies. I charged the guys like we agreed, but I let the ladies in free.”
“That’s fine. Let’s do it.”
Michael took her hand and guided her down the short passageway that led toward the main social area. He did not let go of her hand as he pushed one of two double doors open.
As the door swung shut again, he opened up a small gap between them and lifted her hand to chest level. A ripple of applause rang out from the dimly lit bar area.
Heather smiled and focused her eyes on the single chair sitting on the slightly raised dance floor. It was positioned exactly in the middle of two floor-to-ceiling silver poles, and lit with a red spotlight.
Michael escorted Heather to her stage, and then left her to take her seat.
Once in position, Heather crossed her right leg over her left and waited. It was not long before Monica stepped up onto the dance floor in a French maid’s outfit; it was one of the four standard costumes she wore when working behind the bar.
“Thank you,” said Heather, as she took the large glass of iced water with a slice of lemon in it.
She gulped down the first half of it and then paused to uncross her legs, only allowing a small teasing gap to open up between her knees. The dimly lit faces sitting around small circular tables started to come into focus. Her eyes were adjusting to the light. They were people she knew by sight, if not by name, and most returned her smile.
Heather tilted back her head and finished off the glass of water. She sat and waited while the assembled guests focused their eyes on her, desperately trying to look up under her skirt. After what seemed an eternity, Monica appeared with another glass of water. Heather figured that Michael had instructed Monica to make sure the show was not over too quickly.
Before starting on the second glass, Heather teased both the audience and herself by opening her legs another eight inches or so. People shuffled on their seats. She gave them plenty of time to stare and wondered if the red shadowy light was allowing any of them to see the tell-tale signs of sexual excitement on her knickers.
The consumption of the next half-glass of water triggered a complete spread of her legs. She felt like a performer in Chicago, only her chair was the right way round. Heather enjoyed that moment, unashamedly presenting herself to the small crowd. They would now be tuning in to the timing, and hopefully eagerly anticipating the next act.
As she finished the glass off, a seed of discomfort started to grow in Heather’s bladder. There was another long pause before Monica stepped up onto the dance floor with yet another glass of water. Heather took it and gave her a slight nod.
When Monica got back to the bar, she threw the switch to plunge the club into darkness.
With her hearing heightened, Heather listened to bottoms sliding on seats and murmurs of anticipation. One man’s cough thundered around the club. The descent of a fly zip was clearly audible. Her breathing grew heavier.
The angled white spotlight shot into action. If the audience did not know the color of her knickers before, they certainly did now.
“Very nice, my dear, very nice indeed,” said a posh-sounding male voice.
Heather could have done it at that moment, but this was not the time for impatience. She started tipping the third glass into her mouth. When she took it away again you could have heard a pin drop. She leaned sideways and put the glass down on the floor with a clank. As scripted, she took hold of the bottom of her top and pulled it up over her head. Her ruby nipples stood hard, pointy and proud.
A woman at one of four front row tables had her partner’s erection in her hand. She was gently stroking it up and down. Her own legs were well apart. Other men took it as a cue to get out their stiff cocks.
Heather stared at each man in turn, and nodded her encouragement. Within seconds, and without exception, every man had his trousers down over his thighs. One went as far as discarding them onto the floor. The woman at the front got down onto her knees and took the man’s shaft in her mouth. Th
ings were getting filthy. Heather was loving it. The beautiful sight of sixteen men masturbating in her honor, and one having his cock sucked, filled her with lust and excitement.
With a wicked smile she picked up her glass again. The pressure in her bladder was already at an intolerable level, but she needed to hold on to it just a little longer. Let the men get close to the tipping point, she told herself.
When the glass was empty she bowled it across the dance floor. As it arced round in a curve she moved her butt toward the front of her chair. All eyes were drilling through the cotton fabric stretched out tight over her pussy. Two men had tension-etched faces, signaling they were struggling to hold back their spunk.
Heather moved both hands onto her breasts and started a short well-rehearsed routine of provocative squeezings. Everyone stood in anticipation. The pace of the cock bashing increased. She placed the tip of her tongue onto her top lip, tilted her head back and let her bladder go.
The gusset of her knickers turned dark grey. The piss started to flow out of one side, and then the other. A stream of clear urine ran down her right thigh and gathered in her drooping leather skirt.
Heather continued peeing. Eventually, the volume was more than her skirt could hold. The hem dropped down on one side, the clear liquid flowed onto the polished wooden boards by her feet. It was a moment that triggered more than a dozen ejaculations. Never had Heather seen such an amazing sight. She stood and allowed every last drop of pee to drip onto the dance floor. A silence filled the club as she stood motionless before her audience.
“Well done, girl,” shouted a woman from the darkness at the back.
Heather could not help but laugh as the men did their best to give her a rapturous round of applause, but most were inhibited from doing so by the come clinging to their hands.
She stood and unzipped the back of her skirt. Against her natural instincts, but in the name of entertainment, she let it drop into the puddle by her feet.
“Can I have your knickers?” shouted a man from the second line of tables.
Heather started to slide them down her legs.
“I’ll give you fifty pounds for them.” This time the shout came from the right-hand side.
After stepping out of them, Heather proudly held her knickers up like a trophy.
“Sixty,” shouted the first man.
“Seventy,” shouted the second bidder.
The first man conceded with a shake of his head.
“Come and get them then.”
The man stepped up onto the dance floor and exchanged seven cash-machine crisp notes for Heather’s soiled underwear.
A naked Heather stepped down onto the red carpet and walked slowly across to the bar. She ordered herself a large gin and tonic.
Michael appeared over her shoulder. “Well done, girl, you were stunning. You were fantastic.”
“Are you up for act two?” asked Heather.
“Oh no, girl, we don’t need to fuck. Every bastard in the room has come already. Just leave any seconds to the four women; you’ve done more than enough.”
“Shame, I been fantasizing about the fuck for a whole week.”
“I could do you here if you want.”
“Here?”
“Yep, from behind, up against the bar. Those heels have got your pussy at just the right level.” He rested a hand on her right buttock. It was that erotic touch of flesh on flesh that made the decision for her.
She shuffled her feet and pushed back her bum. “OK, do me here then. Should we get an audience, then so much the better.”
Heather waited, listening to the quiet sounds of Michael taking his clothes off.
Monica placed her drink on the bar. Michael reached round and placed an empty condom pack down beside it.
As she raised her drink to her mouth, Michael pressed his firm cock against her dripping wet pussy. Next came the wonderful sensation of being opened up as he pushed deep inside her. It felt so good. The improvised second act had begun.
Heather glanced over her shoulder to see if they had spectators. Her body trembled a little. She was not sure if it was in fear or with excitement. A queue had started to form.
AND A-MOMMYING WE GO
Ralph Greco Jr
“I think you need a time out,” I said.
Jeremy whimpered as I grabbed his cock and pulled him across the carpet to the metal chair in front of my desk.
“Now sit here for a few minutes and think about your behavior.”
Another shrill sigh escaped his thick lips as I turned and walked away. As I had learned while raising my own children so many years ago, there are two paths to scolding: one direct punishment, one the more modern “time out” or ignoring their behavior.
Tonight, as usual, Jeremy would get both.
“You really are so bad,” I said to my top desk drawer.
I opened this very secret door of my desk, usually locked and containing only one item. I reached in and produced the wooden ruler I had bought for just these late nights with my best and worst employee. Before Jeremy and I began all this I had paperclips, individual sticks of gum, a few items more than just the ruler secreted here, but these days the drawer held only my ruler, illustrating, more than I’d want to admit, how important these sessions with Jeremy had grown in my life. Jeremy, of course, sat where he was (hopefully staring at my little ass as I bent), silent. If he entertained thoughts of our deepening relationship I had no idea. I had wanted to ask plenty of times, but my position here as his employer and now his dom precluded me delving into anything beyond his discipline.
“Why are you such a bad boy?” I asked, as I turned and walked back to the naked young man sitting in the center of my big wood and glass office.
Jeremy looked up at me smiling, the dimple showing deep in his right cheek. Of course I could measure the height of his arousal by spying his always thick and ready erection, but beyond the tug I had just given him, I had to pay it little mind during these sessions. My employee was quite a randy, attractive twenty-three-year-old and my feigned indifference to his arousal was as much for me as it was for him.
“I hope you’re ready for this tonight,” I said, swatting the ruler into my right palm as I stepped across the floor to Jeremy.
I had tried to ignore Jeremy’s obvious advances, his “accidental” brushing up against me, his quickly volleyed double-meaning quips, his staring. Being his boss in our little office it would be hard for me to claim harassment and besides, he got me so wet with all the flirting. Still, through the impropriety of our obvious mutual attraction, Jeremy and I grew close enough to share quite a few confidences. I told him some of my failed marriage and he these early post-college years and his concern with his naivety with women. Not that I would excuse his advances, still I understood him covering his fear with seeming bravado.
About a month into our acquaintance (and really some exemplary work from Jeremy), I had teased him that if he “kept it up” (a statement which garnered quite the snicker, to be sure) then drastic measures might be needed to keep him in line. Maybe I was responding to my own pent-up sexual stirrings, or the fact that I was twenty years his senior sparked the idea, but I soon became determined to put Jeremy across my lap for a good hard spanking.
What I didn’t count on, of course, was how consumed I’d become by all this. God knew I fantasized a lot, but these times with Jeremy were entirely something new to me, pervasive as they had become in my thoughts, pushing me to plan sessions with him ever more frequently.
“You are going to get twenty tonight,” I announced, finally coming to and sitting on the other metal folding chair. “Twenty,” I repeated, watching Jeremy try to steel his breath and not wiggle on the cold seat a foot across from me.
I never gave Jeremy more than twenty, quite often half that. He had said he loved the feel of the stings, the tight resound (and God knew I loved to administer the bouncing spanking to his round cheeks), but I also knew Jeremy was just as tortured having to lay acro
ss my lap, his cock pushing into my thighs. When he had first agreed to this I knew Jeremy assumed the spankings would be a prelude to sex, but since they hadn’t (yet), I had the added pleasure of watching this young man squirm every time I sat across from him, crossing and recrossing my legs as I spoke to him softly about what was to come.
“You deserve it, don’t you?” I asked. “Don’t you?” I added, allowing him to speak with my blue-eyed gaze.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jeremy replied, his right knee beginning its characteristic shake. Though he had dropped his chin slightly to his chest, I still caught the naughty guy run his gaze to my short skirt and bare legs, obviously anxious to get across and fearful at the same time.
That dichotomy made my pussy flood so much.
“Are you ready?” I asked and used another weapon in my arsenal to torture him.
I leaned back the slightest bit, arching my back as if I was stretching, letting my long brown hair fall across my back and shoulders while I thrust my ample bosom high for Jeremy’s delight. I am a petite woman so I appear even bustier than I really am; it is all Jeremy can do on normal occasions not to comment on my big breasts. The nights of his spankings I did what I could to enhance my figure by wearing either low-cut sweaters or very tight sheer blouses sans bra, the latter of which I was wearing right then. To be on display for this young man, objectified by his sidelong glances, thrilled me too.
“Are you ready?” I asked again, smiling slightly.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jeremy said, his broad chest rising and falling with a quick inhalation. Luckily I am not too taken with hairy chests, for Jeremy has a muscular one matted with black hair.
This is literally the only feature on the man I don’t die for.
“Well,” I coaxed sitting forward, “up and over.”
Trying not to catch the quick smell of him, the heat of his thighs tickling my bare thighs or his heavy erection rubbing against me, I adjusted my skirt down my white knees while Jeremy stood, stepped to my right hip then fell across me. I opened my bare legs to let him drop his cock between them.
The Mammoth Book of Erotic Stories Page 5
