by Ray Gordon
Admiring the delectable Mrs Smith as she stood with her feet apart and bent over the padded bar, Mike watched Trudie and Goldie cuff her wrists to her ankles as Cecilia fingered the woman's pussy sheath. Her naked body defenceless, her vaginal lips bulging between her thighs, the tethered woman was in for the thrashing of her life, Mike concluded as Trudie grabbed the whip.
Turning the sound up, he listened excitedly as Mrs Smith begged Trudie not to thrash her too hard. "Please, just do it softly," she pleaded, her voice shaky as Cecilia withdrew her sticky fingers from her honeypot. "Don't hurt me, will you?"
"Oh, I won't, don't worry!" Trudie replied sarcastically, raising the whip above her head and bringing the tails down across her prisoner's tensed buttocks with a loud crack.
Her husband looking on, frowning as Goldie raised his hands above his head and cuffed his wrists to steel rings set in the wall, he was powerless to save his wife. The woman screaming as Trudie continued the merciless thrashing, her husband yanked on the handcuffs, ordering the sadistic girl to stop as his wife begged pathetically for mercy.
"That's enough!" he cried, Mrs Smith howling in her pain and pleasure as Cecilia knelt on the floor and thrust three fingers into the tethered woman's tight cunt.
"Enough is never enough!" Trudie giggled, repeatedly bringing the leather tails down, turning the woman's buttocks crimson.
"Please, you must stop!" her husband yelled as Goldie knelt before him and sucked his swollen glans into her hungry mouth.
Suddenly inspired, as well as aroused, Mike switched the monitor off and bounded up the stairs. With Smith handcuffed to the wall and his wife over the frame, her vaginal crack open, vulnerable, he decided to add some spice to the couple's evening by fucking the tethered woman. Slipping into room sixty-nine, he grinned as he unzipped his trousers and hauled his erect penis out.
"It's your lucky night!" he beamed, standing behind Smith's wife as Trudie moved aside. "You're to have the pleasure of my cock up your wet cunt!"
"No!" her husband stormed. "You didn't say anything about..."
"It's a Stokepot surprise. You'd like me to fuck you, wouldn't you, Mrs Smith?"
"I don't mind what you do, but don't let that girl whip me again!" the frightened woman whimpered as Cecilia quickened her fanny fingering.
"No, I won't let her whip you again - not until I've spermed up you!" Mike chuckled, running his purple glans up and down her gaping pussy crack, lubricating his weaponhead. "Anal or vaginal?" he asked in his rising debauchery.
"No, not anal!" the desperate woman cried as he parted her burning buttocks.
Her husband protesting as he watched Mike present his solid knob to his wife's bottom-hole, Mike moved forward, swiftly driving his veined shaft deep into her rectal canal. Gasping, the woman writhed, trying to free herself as Mike grabbed her hips and began the enforced anal thrusting, finding his rhythm with Cecilia's pistoning fingers. Her husband now silent, Mike knew that he was enjoying the lewd scene as Goldie took his knob to the back of her throat and kneaded his rolling balls.
"Are you going to come in her mouth?" Trudie asked Smith as he gasped his pleasure.
"Yes, yes!" he breathed, his penile shaft twitching.
"You can spunk up my cunt afterwards!" the girl giggled, pulling her vaginal lips apart and displaying her intimate pink flesh to his wide eyes. "We've got all night, so I'm sure you'll be able to fuck us all senseless!"
"Ah, coming!" the helpless man cried. "Come... coming!"
Wanking his shaft as Goldie rolled her tongue over his orgasming glans, Trudie helped her friend to bring out his sperm. His wife whimpering as Mike drove his knob deep into her bowels, she, too, reached her enforced climax. The couple wailing their ecstasy in harmony, Mike loosed his spunk, filling the woman's bowels as he rammed his cock into her tightening anal hole in rhythm with Cecilia's vaginal finger fucking, orbiting the shuddering woman to her sexual heaven.
"Let me have some, mate!" Trudie cried, pushing Goldie aside and sucking Smith's spunking glans into her thirsty mouth. "Mmm!" she breathed appreciatively through her nose as her cheeks filled with his gushing cream. Swallowing hard, the girl thrust her hand up Goldie's skirt and drove three fingers into her drenched cunt, her own arousal soaring until her neglected clitoris throbbed and almost came.
The evening of unbridled lust had only just begun, Mike thought jubilantly as he made his final thrust, jetting the last of his sperm into the woman's drenched anal canal. Slipping his cock out, he zipped his trousers and grabbed the whip. She could do with another thrashing, he decided, grinning as he watched his spunk ooze from her inflamed bottom-hole. The night was but young!
Gasping as Trudie sucked out the remnants of his sperm, Smith hung limp from the steel rings. His balls drained, his cock shrinking, he gazed at the weals fanning out across his wife's burning buttocks, the sperm dripping from her anal entrance as Cecilia continued her cuntal finger fucking. The couple were certainly getting their money's worth! Mike thought happily as a loud explosion rocked the building.
Dropping the whip and racing downstairs, Mike imagined the kitchen on fire, the new cooker blown to smithereens. "What the fucking hell was that?" he asked Dave as he hurtled into the foyer.
"I don't know! I was in the kitchen and..."
"Listen!" Mike exclaimed. "What's that rushing sound?"
"The basement, it's coming from the basement! It sounds like water!"
"Jesus fucking Christ, I'll bet it's the fucking boiler!"
Racing down the basement steps, Mike held his head as he gazed at the buckled boiler, the water gushing from broken pipes. Ordering Dave to go and ring the plumber, he flopped onto an old chair, wondering why God had it in for him. He obviously doesn't like my sex business, he reflected, the water pooling around his feet, flooding the entire basement. "Jesus Christ, I'm only trying to survive in a state of governmental thieves!"
Having spent half the night watching the plumber install a second-hand boiler, Mike sat in the bar wondering what the day would bring. The Smiths had left after their night of rampant lust, Trudie and Goldie were sleeping after their exhausting ordeal, and Cecilia was busy vacuuming the foyer. While Dave was making a futile attempt to cook the breakfasts, Mike reckoned that Paul, who hadn't surfaced, was either unconscious or dead from alcohol poisoning.
The early morning sun shining in a clear blue sky, he would have preferred to go for a stroll along the prom rather than spend another day stuck in the hotel. Life's what you make it, he reflected, wishing he was rich as he poured himself a large vodka and coke. I will be rich and carefree - courtesy of room sixty-nine.
The cheeky plumber had demanded free fucks for a month in return for his labour and Mike had readily agreed, happy that he would never have to shell out cash again. The girls would want a hefty chunk of his takings, he reflected. The best way to minimise their cut would be to make out that room sixty-nine was far less lucrative than it actually was. Deciding to con the hussies by telling them that he had to tax their illicit earnings, he looked up as someone came into the bar.
"Good morning!" the woman from room five beamed. "You were right, things do look better this morning. I've decided that I'm better off without my husband."
"Oh, I am pleased," Mike smiled. "There's nothing like a good night's sleep to help you to see things in a different light."
"Yes, so I've discovered. Why are your shoes soaking wet?"
"A minor incident in the basement."
"Oh. You know, there's something about this hotel. I can't quite put my finger on it but it has such a warm, homely, friendly atmosphere. I feel that I've been here before, as if I'm part of the very foundations."
"Déjà vu?"
"Possibly, unless I was buried beneath the building at the end of my past life. Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself - I'm Nancy Brown."
"You're not a gay transvestite, are you?"
"Certainly not! Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Well, Nancy an
d Brown. Nancy being a woofta and Brown being..."
"Oh, I see what you're getting at. No, I'm straight - well, almost."
"Almost?"
"I'd rather not talk about the school I attended. Suffice to say that there were more biology lessons in the dorm than in the classroom."
"Sounds interesting."
"It was."
"My name's Hunt, by the way, Mike Hunt. So, what are your plans for the future?"
"Well, I'll have to get a job, I suppose. Before I do anything, I'll go home and get my clothes and a few personal belongings."
Your vibrator?
"The house won't be my problem because it's rented."
"It's a good job you haven't got a joint mortgage, they can be messy in times of divorce. In fact, they can be messy at the best of times!"
"It was my husband's idea to rent. Always thinking of the future, he was. He likes renting things."
"Yes, it's good to plan ahead, plan for the unexpected. So, what sort of work did you have in mind?" Mike asked, eyeing the woman's shapely thighs, wondering whether she'd fancy working in room sixty-nine. At this rate I'm going to have more girls than clients.
"I don't know what sort of work I'd like. Anything that brings in decent money, I suppose."
"Anything?"
"Well, within reason. I mean, I'm not going to clean public toilets or scrub out bedpans!" she giggled.
"Cleaning public toilets can be quite an exhilarating experience. Er... so I'm told."
"That's as maybe, but it's not for me. Rather than rent a flat straight away, I'd like to stay here for a few weeks, which is going to be expensive. I have a little in the way of savings, but I'll have to earn some decent money."
Nancy was an extremely attractive woman, Mike observed, appearing a lot younger now that she was happier. The previous night, with her tear-streaked, flushed cheeks, her bloodshot eyes, she'd looked fairly mature, but now he reckoned her to be around thirty-five. Her jet-black hair shining in the sunlight as she leaned animatedly on the bar, her dark eyes alluring, inviting, her succulent red lips smiling, she was ideal material for room sixty-nine. But he could hardly suggest she work as a prostitute!
"What sort of work have you done in the past?" he asked her.
"Secretarial for a small village estate agent, nothing else. I had a sheltered upbringing, you see. My mother didn't let me out of the house alone until I was twenty-years-old, and then I had to wear white ankle socks. Old fashioned, she was."
"Victorian, I'd say!"
"She was very staid in her views, so much so that she never married."
"So, who's your father?"
"No one knows. My mother hadn't a clue where I came from, poor dear."
Grinning, Mike decided to put his feelers out. "We had a woman staying here once who worked as a prostitute!" he chuckled, eagerly awaiting her reaction.
"Really? Well, I suppose that's one way to earn good money."
"Oh, it is! She made herself a fortune over the years. Of course, you'd never consider prostitution, would you, Nancy? I mean, with your sheltered upbringing, you'd obviously reject the very notion."
Is she game? he wondered, noticing her pensive expression. His thoughts turning to sex, as usual, he imagined her full red lips closing around his knob, his spunk jetting, bathing her pink tongue. Picturing her ballooning pussy lips nestling between her thighs at the top of her long, curvaceous legs, he sensed his penis twitch in expectation.
"Prostitution?" she finally echoed, raising her eyebrows as if giving the idea some serious thought. "There's nothing wrong with it, as such. Actually, I don't like the word prostitute, it's gritty, hard. Women are soft, smooth - I prefer to think of prostitution as a physical joining of two people for a mixture of mutual pleasure and lust, the money changing hands as a gift."
"You're not against the idea, then?"
"I considered it once."
"Did you?" Mike gasped. "What would your mother have said if she'd found out that..."
"I wouldn't imagine she's ever heard of the word prostitute, let alone knows what it means. I considered prostitution a few years ago when my husband lost his job. Things were pretty bad, financially, and selling my body for sex crossed my mind."
"Really?" Mike grinned, finishing his vodka and pouring another one. "Would you like a drink?"
"What, this early in the morning?"
"Why not? It'll give you a kick start."
"All right, just a small vodka and lime, please. God, what a change - I'm usually cooking his breakfast and finding his clean white shirts at this time in the morning!"
"A change is as good as a rest, as they say. Didn't the au pair do that?"
"She did very little in the house. Actually, she did a hell of a lot, but not in way of housework!"
"Oh, yes, of course. Going back to money, I've had some financial problems lately," Mike enlightened Nancy confidingly as he poured her drink. "I was in a really tricky situation with income tax and the fucking... sorry, I mean, the VAT man."
"How are things now?"
"I'm heavily into the bank, but things are getting better by the day. Nancy, if you want to live here and you're looking for work, you can work for me."
"What sort of work?" she asked as she took her drink from the counter.
"Excuse me for a moment," Mike apologised, grabbing the ringing phone from the wall. "Good morning, Stokepot Towers. Yes, I can fit you in this evening, sir. Er... two hundred pounds including an evening meal and a night of... a night of pleasure. Oh, yes, discretion is guaranteed. Yes, a special room with a fine range of... a range of equipment. The girls? Yes, of course they've got tight cunts! Good, I'll look forward to meeting you. Mr Smith, yes, I thought as much. Fine, until this evening, goodbye."
Replacing the receiver, Mike turned to Nancy and offered her a sheepish smile. Had she gleaned the nature of his game? he wondered as she sipped her drink. From his telephone conversation, it must have been pretty obvious what he'd been talking about! he reflected, catching her sparkling eyes as she grinned at him.
"So, what sort of work?" she asked again, licking her delectable red lips as she hooked her ebony tresses behind her ear.
"Well, you said that you'll need decent money if you're going to stay here for any length of time, so... I really don't know how to put this."
"Are we on the same wavelength, Mike? Are we tuned in?"
"Yes, I think so. I hope so!"
"How much?"
"Er... if we are talking about the same thing, full board and I'll pay you fifty pounds a week."
"They say the wages of sin is death. Not much of a prospect, is it?"
"Life's not much of a prospect, Nancy!"
"Full board and one hundred a week, for starters, and I'll begin today."
"Oh... er... right, begin this evening."
His penis now fully erect, bulging his trousers, Mike gazed at the refreshingly upfront young woman's deep cleavage, revealed by her open blouse. Noticing him staring, Nancy sat upright on her bar stool, jutting out her firm breasts as if exhibiting them for his adjudication. Indeed, there was nothing he wanted more than to take a closer look at them, at her sweet pussy, her bulging sex lips. Before giving her the job, he decided, he'd suggest she show him her wares.
"Before I take you on, I'll have to have a look at... what I mean is, I'd like to see what you have to offer."
"Is there anyone around this early in the morning?" she asked, unbuttoning her blouse.
"No, the cleaner's gone home and the chef's in the kitchen - probably attempting to blow up the cooker."
"Oh, does he usually do that?"
"Often! It's a peculiar abnormality he picked up from the Gas Board."
"Then, if we're alone, I'll show you what I have to offer," she smiled, sliding off the bar stool and slipping her blouse over her shoulders.
Watching with bated breath as she unhooked her bra and stripped the silk cups away from her delicious mammary melons, Mike focused on her
long, brown milk buds, her delicious chocolate areolae. She certainly had a fine pair of tits, he observed as her areolae darkened and her nipples stiffened in the cool morning air. Lickable, suckable - biteable.
Kicking her shoes off, Nancy tugged her skirt down her unblemished legs, unveiling her black suspender belt framing her triangular thatch, her long vaginal slit. No panties, Mike thought, admiring her distended, pinken inner lips protruding alluringly from her sex crack. How many women don't bother to wear panties? More than one would imagine, he was sure.
Kicking her skirt aside, she unhooked her stockings and rolled them seductively down her long shapely legs, leaving only her suspender belt sensually adorning her curvaceous, naked body. Why on earth had her husband screwed the au pair when he had such a sexy young wife? Because he's a normal man, Mike concluded. Besides, au pairs were made for fucking.
"Well?" Nancy smiled, placing her hands on her slim hips and one foot on the bar stool, her vaginal crack opening wide, completely exposing her unfolding inner petals. "Do I get the job?"
"Yes, yes you do!" Mike gasped as she parted her pussy lips with her slender fingers, displaying the glistening pink entrance to her cunt. "Christ, you get the job all right!"
"Don't you think you'd better try me out first?" she asked, moving to a sofa. "I mean, I might not be any good, might I?"
As she reclined on the sofa and parted her thighs as wide as she could, Mike walked across the bar and knelt between her feet, his eyes transfixed on the yawning pink opening to her vaginal sheath. Hardly able to believe his luck, he looked up to the ceiling. I take back what I said about you having it in for me. Thanks, mate.
"You'd better feel inside my vagina, see if it's to your liking," Nancy grinned mischievously as she stretched her pussy lips wide apart.
"Yes, I'd better," Mike murmured, sliding his finger into her hot velveteen sheath. "Mmm, feels good to me. Hot, creamy-wet - perfect!"
"That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."
"That's the nicest thing I've ever said to anyone!"
