by Ray Gordon
Dickwipe was becoming an irritant, he decided, and the time had come to do something about him. His continual phone calls and uninvited visits had to stop - but how? As the lift door opened and Wendy Widegroin emerged in her turquoise dress, Mike stared in horror at the woman. "What the..." he breathed as she dashed across the foyer and flew through the doors into the street. "Jesus Christ, she's escaped!"
Racing across the foyer, his disgruntled penis sticking menacingly out of his trousers, he took the lift to the top floor and rushed along the hall to the sex room. Stark naked, Harold Gloom had his solid penis buried deep within Belinda's inflamed pussy hole, his mouth closed over her areola.
"What happened to the other woman?" Mike yelled, zipping his trousers.
"She wanted to join in so I released her and she ran off!" Harold babbled excitedly, slipping the delicacy from his mouth.
"You released her? Bloody hell, now I'm really in the spunk!"
"She'll soon be back, Mike!" Belinda grinned. "And then you'll not only be in the spunk, as you crudely put it, but you'll..."
"Shut up, you stupid woman!" Mike snapped. "Harold, get out of here! Fancy letting my prisoner go, you soppy sod!"
"Prisoner?" Harold frowned, his glistening shaft slipping out of Belinda's tight, sperm-drenched fanny. "I didn't know she was a prisoner."
Flopping onto the bed as Harold grabbed his clothes and fled the room, Mike held his head in his hands. Widegroin would run to Dickwipe, Dickwipe would round up his merry men and raid the hotel... "Fuck and double fuck!" he breathed.
"You've quite a list of offences," Belinda laughed, sperm coursing down her inner thighs.
"You're not out of here yet, so be careful!" Mike warned, rising to his feet as Dave charged in.
"Mike, I've just seen that copper running off down the street!"
"Yes, she bloody well escaped!"
"Blimey!"
"Release Belinda and bend her over the bar," Mike ordered the chef. "I'm going to commit the most vile and obscene acts imaginable upon her naked body!"
"Mike, if... if you..." his ex-wife stammered as Dave released her hands.
"If I what?"
"The police will be here any minute! You're only making matters worse for yourself."
"Let me worry about that!"
Some Sunday morning it was turning out to be! Mike reflected as Dave bent Belinda's struggling body over the frame and tied her wrists to her lower legs. He was done for, he reckoned, so he might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb and go the whole hog with the bloody woman. Suddenly remembering Harold, he wondered whether the man would meet with his death as he left the hotel. Whatever your problems, there's always someone worse off. The worst thing that could happen to himself was several years in prison. The worst for Harold - an eternity in the graveyard!
Moving behind Belinda as Dave backed away, Mike scrutinized her rounded buttocks, her hairless vaginal lips protruding between her smooth thighs. Waving his hand at the door, intimating Dave leave, he grabbed the cat of nine tails from the corner of the room. Standing behind his prisoner as she looked up at him from between her parted legs, her green eyes wide with fear, he raised the whip above his head.
"Mike, please!" she begged shakily. "Please, let's talk about this."
"OK," he grinned, lowering the whip and dragging the leather tails across her unblemished buttocks. "Flagellation is as old as the hills. Many women enjoy a good thrashing, it turns them on."
"I mean talk about the situation, not whipping!"
"I'd rather talk about whipping!"
Kneeling behind the trembling woman, a debauched idea manifesting, he bundled up the leather tails and parted her buttocks. Pushing the ends of the tails into her bottom-hole, he grinned wickedly as she began gasping.
"Mike, please don't!" she cried as he managed to push inch by inch of the tails deep into her anal duct. "Oh, oh! Mike, please!"
"I'm going to get all three feet of the tails up your bum, and then I'll shove the wooden handle up your arse!"
"Mike, listen to..."
"I don't want to listen, Belinda," he returned ruthlessly as over a foot of the thin leather tails coiled up inside her rectal sheath.
"I'm not a policewoman, Mike."
"First you are, then you're not, then you are... How does it feel? There must be two feet of leather up you now."
"It doesn't feel nice at all! Please, have some compassion!"
"Compassion? You never showed me any compassion when we were married!"
"I did!"
"You used to ration sex, use it as a weapon! Right, the tails are almost in, you just wait until the handle goes in, too!"
To his great disappointment Mike failed to accomplish his crude mission, Belinda whimpering, relinquishing her futile pleas, as the handle hung from her packed anal entrance, swinging obscenely from side to side. Mike wouldn't be too harsh on her, she was sure, as he moved across the room. After all, he wasn't an animal - was he?
Gazing at him through her legs as he settled on the floor behind her, a body massager in his hand, she assumed he was going to take her to orgasm. Parting her fleshy vaginal lips, he pushed and twisted the body of the massager against her exposed cunny hole, trying to push the whole thing inside.
"Mike!" she cried as her cuntal portal yielded. "Please, you won't get that in me!"
"It's almost there!" he chuckled, pushing the device against her defeated muscles. "There, it's gone in!"
"No, please!" she begged as he switched the vibrator on, sending electrifying sensations deep into her trembling pelvis. "Argh! Take it out!"
Securing the massager with a length of rope tied around her waist, Mike rose to admire his crude handiwork. The vibrator buzzing loudly, Belinda's buttocks twitching as her anal sphincter rhythmically gripped the leather tails, she was a pretty sight! Watching her sex juice spill from her painfully opened vulva and run down the handle of the massager, Mike decided to leave her while he went downstairs for a drink.
"Count your orgasms," he quipped, ensuring the vibrating plastic housing was pressed hard against her exposed clitoris. "See how many times you come while I'm downstairs."
"Ah, ah! Oh, God, no! Mike, please don't leave me like this!"
"Why not? Don't you like it?"
"Ah! I'm, I'm..."
"Coming? Good, that'll be number one. Don't lose count, will you?"
Making his way to the lift, he pondered on his ex-wife's predicament. She'd enjoy the many enforced orgasms, and then she'd enjoy the cane. Emerging from the lift, he wandered towards the desk to switch the monitor on. Might as well video Buggered Belinda, he mused. I could do a roaring trade in copies when I'm inside.
"Ah, Mr Hunt!" Inspector Dickwipe grinned as he entered the building.
Oh, shit! "Inspector, what can I do for you?"
"I've come to see Miss Painter, I believe she booked in earlier this morning."
"Miss Painter? No, there's no one of that name staying here."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. No one's booked in today, I can assure you."
"That's odd. Didn't she come here asking for a room?"
"No, I'm sorry." That's fucked your plan. "Have you heard anything from Harold Gloom and Wendy Widegroin, Inspector?"
"Why would I hear anything from them?"
"Well, I... I don't know."
"Excuse me for a moment," Dickwipe said, pulling his radio from his pocket as his name was called. "Dickwipe here, go ahead."
"Can you get back to the station, Sir?"
"Why, what's up?"
"There's someone here to see you - someone you'll be very surprised to see."
"Who?"
"Er... I'd better not say over the PR."
"OK, I'll be right with you." Slipping the radio back into his pocket, the inspector smiled at Mike. "I'll be in touch, Mr Hunt."
"Yes, yes OK."
"Good day."
"Good day, Inspector."
This was it,
Mike knew. Wendy Widegroin had obviously gone running to Pox Green police station to reveal all. "Bloody fucking hell!" he breathed, flopping into his chair. "I'm bloody well done for! Fucked, even!"
"Mike," Goldie smiled sheepishly, her pretty face peering round the kitchen door. "I'm doing chicken for Sunday lunch. The new cooker... should flames come out of the oven?"
Chapter Ten
There'd been no word from Inspector Dickwipe by the following morning. Mike was positive that the surprise visitor to the police station had been Widegroin, so why hadn't the hotel been raided? he pondered. Were the pigs plotting a huge night raid to catch the girls and punters writhing in ecstatic debauchery on the fourth floor? Whatever they were up to, no doubt he'd find out soon enough, he decided.
Her naked body tethered overnight to the bed, Belinda had protested wildly, demanding her freedom and spitting expletives at him as he'd taken her eggs and bacon for breakfast. She must have enjoyed dozens of enforced shuddering climaxes during the hour the vibrator had been stuffed up her wet fanny, although she'd denied having the merest hint of an orgasm. As she had the delicious, lewd, anal sensations she'd experienced as her perverse ex-spouse had eased the three-foot leather tails from her sated bum-hole.
Mike realized that he'd have to set her free, but not for a while. After all, she hadn't experienced the delights of a damned good, naked buttock caning yet! He'd release her when Widegroin returned with the troops, he decided. Or when he'd finished having his wicked fun with Belinda, whichever came sooner - Widegroin, knowing his luck!
Ideally, he needed a hold over Belinda, something to even the odds. Blackmail was the answer, he mused as he leaned on the desk. But blackmail her over what? To have her captured on video tape with one man screwing her hot cunt and another man fucking her tight arsehole was easy enough. But how to depict her pure sexual ecstasy when, no doubt, she'd be screaming and swearing? The blue boys at Scotland Yard would derive immense enjoyment from watching their attractive colleague endure a double screw. That was the perfect way to blackmail her, he decided. But she'd have to been seen as a willing player in the sordid act.
"Ah, Trudie," Mike grinned as the busty brunette approached reception in her black microskirt and tight-fitting white blouse. "Have you done the rooms?"
"They're all empty, apart from a sales rep in room fifteen, and he's leaving today. Oh, there is one other guest."
"Who?"
"Harold Gloom."
"Christ, I thought he'd gone?"
"He came back because he thought someone was following him."
"The would-be assassin, no doubt. God, what a bloody mess! OK, Dave's cleaned the cooker up after Goldie's fire yesterday, Mrs Gloom's gone, Widegroin... I don't know where she is or what she's up to - the tight-cunted bitch! I should have shaved her fanny."
"I must give my pussy a good shave. By the way, Goldie's booked four clients for this evening. A bunch of randy businessmen, by all accounts."
"Good, more money! Bloody hell, I hope that prick Dickwipe doesn't plan to raid us tonight."
"So do I, mate! Oh, there's one other thing - the colonel won't come out of his room."
"Christ, why ever not?"
"He said that you'd ordered him to leave the hotel. Apparently, you were rude to him. He's upset, sulking."
"Daft old git! All right, I'll talk to him later. Ah, Cecilia, you're late this morning," Mike remarked as the young woman hurried in through the swing doors. "Have trouble with your pussy, did you?"
"No, I was waylaid," she replied, her white blouse falling open, revealing the perfect roundness of her firm breasts rising either side of her deep cleavage.
Must give her a pearl necklace, Mike thought, imagining his well-greased knob thrusting between her toned breasts. "Waylaid? Were you robbed?"
"No. There's a police road block and..."
"Fuck!"
"What?"
"Er... nothing."
"Actually, there are two road blocks. They're about two hundred yards away, either side of the hotel. I've never seen the seafront road so quiet. And there are policemen with guns, hiding in the bushes on the green by the beach."
"Two road blocks? Guns? Fuck my arse!"
"What with?"
"I'll see you both later," Trudie smiled, pulling her microskirt out of her bottom crack as she entered the lift.
"OK, Trudie. The road blocks... what's going on, do you know?" Mike asked Cecilia.
"No, I don't. Perhaps there's been a bomb scare."
"A brothel scare, more likely! Dripping piss flaps!"
"Yes, I have. Well, I'm already behind so I'll get on with the cleaning. Is there any work this evening?"
"Yes, four clients."
"Good! Oh, I'm all hot and bothered, in dire need of a good... right, well, I'll see you later."
"Oh, Cecilia, I've been meaning to ask you something. How would you like to move into the hotel?"
"Yes, I'd like that very much. I could let my house and make some extra money."
"OK, room seven, take the key from the hook."
"Great! Thanks, Mike."
Watching Cecilia dive into the cupboard and close the door, Mike sat in his chair, contemplating the road blocks. Would Dickwipe raid the hotel during the day? Surely, he'd be better storming the building at night, when the illicit business, the clients' balls, were in full swing! Christ, guns!
Placing himself in Dickwipe's shoes, he pondered on the man's next move. During the day there were no clients upstairs, no thrusting cocks or rolling bollocks. But, as Paul had quite rightly pointed out, it wasn't an offence to own a private sex room. The only incriminating evidence was that shaved cunt Belinda.
"Ah, Mr Hunt, I trust you've had a foul weekend?" Gill smirked as he breezed in through the main doors, smarming his greasy hair down with the palm of his hand. "I see the police have set up road blocks. What have you been up to?"
"Nothing! And if I have, it's no business of yours. What the hell do you want?"
"It's good to find you in such a jovial mood. Of course, my presence always brings a smile to people's faces."
"I'm busy, what do you want?"
"I'm here about..."
"Mr Gill, do you mind leaving?"
"Yes, I do mind."
"I've just had the most rotten fucking weekend of my life, and things are about to get worse!"
"Really? I'm so pleased to hear it. Allow me to make things even worse for you."
"That's not possible!"
"Oh yes, it is! Believe me, Mr Hunt, I can make things far worse!"
"Go away, you nasty little spunk bubble!"
"Why, thank you! But, I'm sorry to say, compliments will get you nowhere. A colleague of mine bought a packet of cigarettes yesterday."
"Really? My God, how bloody fascinating!"
"They were duty-free."
"Christ, life never ceases to amaze me! Where was he, on a day trip to France?"
Flattening his bristling moustache, Gill focused his beady eyes on Mike's. "No, he was here, in your hotel bar!" he chuckled. "He has a receipt, of course."
"What's he want, a refund?"
"No, not a refund, Mr Hunt. Oh, God, this is the bit I just love! This is what life's all about! OK, here goes - we're going to bust you for selling duty-free cigarettes! Good, isn't it?"
"Bloody marvellous! Tell me, Mr Gill, what is it about being a cunt-faced fucking little prick that turns you on so much?"
"Ah, that goes way back to my childhood days when..."
"Excuse me for a moment, Mr Gill," Mike interrupted as Paul came staggering down the stairs. "I have an urgent phone call to make. Why don't you go into the bar and wait for me? We'll continue our fascinating conversation when I've finished."
"Yes, I will. I'm enjoying our little chat, and I'm really looking forward to the next bit when I tell you that... "
"Er... I won't keep you a moment."
The right little bastard disappearing into the bar, Mike instructed Paul to sta
y put. Dashing across the foyer to the dining room, he grabbed Goldie's shoulder. "Ah, I hoped you'd be in here! Quickly, strip off!"
"What?" the girl frowned, pushing Mike away and brushing her golden locks away from her pretty face.
"Strip off! Hurry, take your clothes off!"
"Take my clothes off? You aren't going to fuck me and force me to come, are you?"
"No, of course I'm not! Strip off and go and wait in reception," he ordered her, ripping her blouse open, the buttons flying in all directions.
"Oh, you're raping me!"
"I'm not raping you!"
"Of course you are!"
"I am not raping you, girl!"
"Oh, what a shame."
"Come on, get out of your clothes, I have a job for you."
"Mike, I'm supposed to be..."
"Goldie, strip off now or I'll whip your William Pitts!"
"My William Pitts?"
"Tits!"
"All right, all right! God, talk about above and beyond the call of duty! Anyone would think that I was nothing more than a life-sized doll to be stripped naked and the wet hole between its legs used for..."
"Stop arsing on about dolls and holes!"
"Sorry."
"Tear your clothes up and take them with you to reception."
"Tear them up? Are you feeling all right?"
"Of course I am! Look, I'll explain later."
"OK, but only if you buy me a new set of..."
"Yes, yes all right! Just bloody well do it!"
Leaping into the foyer, Mike kicked Paul in the bollocks before dragging him to his feet. "You fucking, piss-headed, drunken fucking pervert!" he rasped through gritted teeth. "Get out into the street and find a bloody copper - preferably Dickwipe."
"What for? God, my head."
"Find Dickwipe and tell him that someone's being raped. He's bound to be lurking out there by one of the road blocks."
"Raped? Who? Where?"
"Just go and get Prickwipe! And mind you don't get shot."
