‘Oh, of course,’ Miss Lavington said earnestly ‘It has to be expected. After all, they’re teenagers, and in a mixed school – although it happens in single-sex schools too—’
Both her interviewers made sounds of agreement.
‘So let me pose a hypothesis,’ Mr Winter said enthusiastically. ‘Suppose that you’re the staff member on duty one evening. A young gentleman, one of the students in your charge, comes to you in a considerable state of upset. He’s been teased by a girl, because when she kissed him, he was inexperienced and didn’t do a good job of kissing her back. Let’s say that she mocked him and called him gay.’
‘Oh dear,’ Miss Lavington said sympathetically. ‘Poor thing! Well, of course, the first thing that I’d say is that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being gay and that word should never be used as an insult.’
‘Good, good,’ Mr Winter agreed. And then?’
‘How old is the young gentleman we’re talking about?’ Miss Lavington asked.
‘Oh, fifteen at least,’ Miss Delante said, lighting a cigarette with a Cartier gold lighter.
‘Well,’ Miss Lavington said firmly, ‘in that case I would say that the next thing to do would be to establish whether he’s gay or not. Personally I believe that most of us are fundamentally bisexual.’
This statement was met by more murmurs of agreement from across the coffee table.
‘I would probably unbutton my blouse, like this,’ she continued, beginning to suit the action to the word, starting with the button at the top, half-hidden under the Peter Pan collar. She took her time, gradually exposing the cream lace demi-bra she wore underneath.
‘I would run my hands over my tits,’ she said, massaging her nipples with the palms of her hands until the small pink tips, visible through the lace, were fully hard. ‘Then, I would see if he had an erection,’ she said, smiling. ‘That should settle it! Of course, if he didn’t, I would be sympathetic and make sure he had a suitable male teacher to discuss the issue with as soon as one was available. Ideally you, Mr Winter?’
Mr Winter gravely nodded as Miss Lavington went on: ‘In the short term, I would obviously reassure him, tell him not to be embarrassed, and if he hadn’t already come in his trousers –’
They all shared a smile of amusement at this little quip.
‘– I would probably give him a quick hand job to alleviate his tension,’ she continued. ‘Then sit him down, give him a starter lesson in kissing techniques, let him touch my tits and maybe wank off over them. He’d almost certainly get a second erection at that age, and I’d want to make sure he was fully relaxed and feeling better before he left my office.’
‘Very thoughtful,’ Miss Delante said. ‘I’m sure any distressed student would benefit from such a charming experience. Especially spunking over your tits. They really are very pretty. Can we perhaps see – ?’
‘Oh, of course!’ Miss Lavington pulled her blouse out of the waistband of her skirt, shrugged it off, and reached behind her to unclip her bra. She removed that too. Her breasts were small and rounded, the pink nipples still hard and puckered. As easily as if she was not sitting there topless, she continued: ‘In the longer term, I would initiate a programme to make sure the young man was fully trained in all the basics. He would be drilled in fingering me to orgasm, naturally. Then we’d move on to him eating me out, and finally fucking me, as a series of rewards for good behaviour. The idea is to turn him out with a range of skills so that he can eventually go back to that young lady with his head held high and blow her mind. And everything else!’
‘Oh, that’s a good point,’ Mr Winter chimed in. ‘The young lady who called him gay as an insult! How would you deal with that?’
‘Well, after my initial meeting with the young gentleman,’ Miss Lavington said, ‘I would send him away – hopefully feeling much better about himself! – and go to find the young lady. I would bring her back to my office and speak to her very severely indeed.’
At the word ‘severely’, both her interviewers leaned forward with such enthusiasm that she continued: ‘I have a no-tolerance policy for that kind of language. I would have to spank her till she learned her lesson, and then I would almost certainly make her lick me out to emphasize the point that we all have bisexual tendencies and they’re nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘Perfect!’ Miss Delante said brightly. ‘Don’t you think, Mr Winter?’
He nodded.
‘Miss Lavington, I’d like you to show us exactly how you would handle that interview with the young lady. Miss Delante, if you wouldn’t mind?’
‘Oh, my pleasure!’
Miss Delante extinguished her cigarette and stood up, walking with hip-swinging grace around the coffee table.
‘I shall take the role of the naughty girl,’ she said with enthusiasm. ‘We can assume that you’ve already conducted the verbal tongue-lashing part of the reprimand, and go straight to the physical side of things.’
‘You’ve been a very, very naughty young woman!’ Miss Lavington said, promptly standing up and assuming a severe expression. ‘How dare you behave like this! Take off your jacket immediately and bend over my desk.’
She pointed to the small round dining table across the room, with a chair set to each side. Miss Delante removed her jacket and adopted the position, and Miss Lavington administered five hard spanks to her upthrust buttocks.
Miss Delante said breathlessly: ‘I’m sorry, Miss—’
‘Oh, you’re going to be much sorrier before I’m finished with you!’ Miss Lavington said. ‘Your parents are paying a fortune for you to be taught proper manners, and you won’t leave this room until I think you’ve learned your lesson! Take your trousers down. I’m going to spank you till your bum’s as red as a tomato.’
Mr Winter was unzipping his own trousers, a happy smile on his face, manoeuvring his hard cock out from the slit in his boxers; Miss Lavington, casting a swift glance over at him, was reassured that she was handling this scenario just as required. Miss Delante dropped her own trousers, revealing a small, flat bottom clad in black lace briefs.
‘You naughty, naughty girl!’ Miss Lavington exclaimed disapprovingly. ‘Wearing slutty knickers like that to school! Do you wear those when you suck the boys off, you dirty little thing?’
She gathered the lace briefs in each hand, jerking them to bunch up in the centre of Miss Delante’s buttocks, exposing them fully.
‘I bet you do,’ she said, her open hand coming down with a loud slap on each cheek in turn. Every time she administered a spank, her small bosoms wobbled a little with the effort, and Mr Winter licked his lips in appreciation as he watched the effect. ‘I bet you stuff as much cock in your mouth as you can get, don’t you, a filthy little thing like you?’
Mr Winter was pulling on his own, watching the scene with the air of a connoisseur, as Miss Delante writhed and moaned and begged in vain for mercy. Miss Lavington did not stop till, as promised, the nearly-bare bottom before her was bright red and the imprint of her finger marks was clearly visible over its curves.
‘There, that looks much better,’ Miss Lavington said, stepping back and pulling up her skirt to reveal a cream lace suspender belt holding up her stockings, and a complete absence of any underpants at all. ‘Why are you being punished? Can you tell me?’
Miss Delante stood up, rubbing her sore bottom with a satisfied smile.
‘For calling a boy gay, Miss,’ she said. ‘I’m really sorry.’
‘Sorry isn’t good enough!’ Miss Lavington snapped, sitting down on the table in her turn, holding her skirt up at her waist, spreading her legs. ‘How dare you be so disrespectful to our gay friends! You can apologize by eating out my pussy like you mean it.’
Eagerly, Miss Delante dropped to her knees in front of the other woman. Miss Lavington sank both hands into Miss Delante’s thick, glossy hair, pulling her mouth right into her crotch, starting to moan straight away. Her legs wrapped around Miss Delante’s back, her spine arc
hed, and she groaned:
‘Oh yeah, you dirty little thing . . . yeah, stick your tongue in my cunt and eat me out . . . yeah, lick my clit like that, lick it hard . . . fuck, yes, make me fucking come, you dirty girl . . .’
Mr Winter lifted his hand to his mouth, spat on it, and replaced it around his cock, pulling and twisting it simultaneously in slow, expert strokes, his own legs splayed, his head lolling against the pillows at the back of the sofa, but still at an angle to enable him to watch the woman on her knees eagerly servicing the one on the table. Miss Lavington’s bottom was rebounding now as she came, shoving her pussy into Miss Delante’s mouth, the table rocking wildly; it was a good few minutes before the latter pulled back, her lips sticky and wet, and smiled up at Miss Lavington, whose glasses were now askew on her nose and whose blonde hair was starting to fall down around her shoulders.
Miss Lavington, her cheeks flushed, her lips red from where she had bitten them, waited to pick up her next cue. Miss Delante slid her hand down to rub her own crotch, slid her finger inside herself and then inserted it into Miss Lavington’s mouth for her to suck.
‘I think it’s time we played with a naughty little boy,’ she said with a conspiratorial grin. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Ooh,’ Miss Lavington said, when the finger was removed again. ‘I love playing with naughty boys who need disciplining!’
‘This one needs a lot of discipline,’ Miss Delante assured her. ‘Look at him sitting there with his cock out!’
She strode over to the sofa and slapped Mr Winter’s cock lightly, making it bounce and strain towards her.
‘For that,’ she said menacingly, ‘you don’t get to come until we tell you.’
She bent down and wrapped her hand around his cock, pulling at it, forcing him to his feet to walk – stepping out of his trousers as he did so – across the room following her. She led him through the open connecting door and into the large bedroom. At the foot of the bed, she stopped.
‘Take off your tie,’ she commanded, and when he had obeyed, she said to Miss Lavington: ‘Pull off his boxers and tie this around the base of his cock. Tight. Like a cock ring.’ The large cock swelled even more as soon as she said the words, eager for punishment.
‘Ooh, what a naughty boy he is!’ Miss Lavington said, pushing her glasses firmly onto the bridge of her nose again. ‘He wants it badly, doesn’t he?’
‘He needs a good spanking,’ Miss Delante said firmly. ‘He needs to get on his knees on the bed and have his arse tanned.’
‘Both of us at once,’ Miss Lavington said, managing to give this line just enough of a questioning inflection so that she could be sure it was what her clients wanted.
‘Oh yeah,’ Miss Delante said, taking off her blouse. She was also small-chested, and was not wearing a bra.
There was not only a large mirror behind the king-size bed, but one above it. As Mr Winter climbed onto the bed, his big cock swinging between his legs, the silk tie dangling from it, he was able to lift his head to see both women pull their arms back and start to deliver a long, stinging series of punishing slaps to his tight, round butttocks. Every so often Miss Delante would break off, reach around and slap his cock, making it bounce, pre-cum glistening on its big round head, and every time she did so he groaned in pleasure. Miss Delante was in charge now, Miss Lavington following her cue with professional expertise. They didn’t stop until his bottom was as red as Miss Delante’s had been, and then Miss Delante said gleefully, pushing him to turn over and lie on his back:
‘You suck him off, but don’t let him come. He doesn’t deserve it yet, the dirty boy. Every time you feel he’s getting there, pull back and spank his cock.’ She smiled. ‘Trust me, he’s very well-trained.’
Miss Lavington wasted no time, taking off her skirt in a swift motion before climbing onto the bed, kneeling between Mr Winter’s spread legs and starting to obey orders, her pretty pink lips spread wide to accommodate his girth. Miss Delante was also on the bed now, still in her stilettos. Having dragged off her lace knickers, she was straddling Mr Winter’s face, lowering her shaved crotch onto his waiting mouth.
‘Eat me out, you naughty boy,’ she commanded. ‘Make me come like I made her. I’m going to fuck your face with my pussy right now . . . oh God . . .’
His mouth closed around her, his teeth lightly digging in as he started work.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ she wailed, gripping the headboard, muscles in her thighs standing out as she braced herself, rising and lowering, hitting peak after peak, watching herself come in the mirror behind the bed, which was angled to give her a view of the entire scene. If she tilted slightly sideways she could see Miss Lavington deep-throating Mr Winter’s cock, lifting her head at intervals, gasping for breath, slapping the cock with a carefully judged open palm as she had been instructed.
One last bump and grind, one last long spasm as she watched the scene behind her for an extra thrill, and then she held herself, gasping, in the air, her strong lean thighs trembling; she needed a break, couldn’t take any more for the moment. Miss Lavington raised her head alertly as she saw Miss Delante still gasping, her whole body throbbing as she recovered from her series of orgasms.
‘I think you should come on her tits,’ Miss Delante managed to say, rolling over to lie next to Mr Winter, propped up on the bed pillows. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Oh God yes,’ he said with enthusiasm.
Reaching down, he took hold of his cock, which was so swollen and red it had looked on the verge of shooting for the last ten minutes. Still with the tie wrapped around its base, he pulled on it hard; it was slick from Miss Lavington’s enthusiastically applied saliva, and quivered like a tightly wound spring in his fist. Miss Lavington, always fast to pick up prompts, knelt up between his legs, leaning forwards so that her small firm breasts were directly over the head of his cock; in just a few seconds, Mr Winter was groaning, his hips pumping upwards, his back arching, as a stream of hot milky semen shot upwards in an impressive fountain, bathing her pink nipples as he directed it with an expert hand.
Miss Delante watched in open appreciation as he decorated Miss Lavington’s breasts with a lavish coating of almond-scented liquid. Miss Lavington gave every appearance of delight; when, eventually, the last trickle had finally subsided, and Mr Winter collapsed back onto the pillows with a deep grunt of satisfaction, she sat back on her knees, palms over her breasts, making circles on them, rubbing it in, making soft moans of pleasure.
‘Well!’ Mr Winter said, looking at Miss Delante in the mirror above their heads. ‘I think that was a satisfactory interview, don’t you?’
‘Oh, definitely,’ she said drowsily. ‘Damn, I want a cigarette and I left mine in the living room.’
‘Oh, let me!’ Miss Lavington slipped from the bed, walking across to the connecting door without a shred of self-conciousness about the fact that she was clad only in her suspender belt, stockings and T-bar shoes.
‘Nice little arse,’ Mr Winter said, reaching for another pillow to put behind his back, watching Miss Lavington enter the living room with great appreciation. ‘Next time, I want to spank that and then fuck her up it while she eats you out.’
‘You want her to stay on?’ Miss Delante asked.
‘God, no,’ he said, yawning. ‘You know the old saying, you pay them to leave. But next time you’re in town, she can be the schoolgirl. We’ll turn her out every which way. You’ve got a strap-on, right?’
‘Honestly, Angel! It’s like you don’t know me!’ she said, faking astonishment.
He laughed, meeting her eyes in the angled mirror.
‘Yes – it may have been a while, but some things don’t change, eh? Although back then, we had to improvise . . . oh, those cucumbers we used to steal from the school kitchen . . .’
‘We were terribly deprived children,’ she agreed, smiling at him wickedly.
‘Deprived and depraved,’ he said neatly.
Miss Lavington re-entered the bedroom carrying Miss
Delante’s pack of cigarettes, her lighter and an ashtray.
‘How thoughtful,’ Miss Delante said gratefully.
‘My pleasure!’ Miss Lavington said, dimpling into a smile. ‘It really was. So, my two hours are nearly up, and . . .’
She tailed off tactfully to allow her clients to express a wish for her to stay longer, or pronounce themselves fully satisfied.
‘That’ll be all for today,’ the man called Angel said, twisting up on his elbow to take a cigarette from Miss Delante, who was proffering him the packet. ‘We’re fully satisfied. There’s a tip on the mantelpiece for you. You’re very talented at improvising – I see why your agency recommended you so highly.’
‘Oh, thank you!’ she said with great enthusiasm. ‘I love role play!’
Demonstrating that she understood completely that an escort is paid, above all, to leave after her work is done, Miss Lavington gave the couple on the bed a seductive wink and then removed her skirt from the bedroom floor, her cash tip of five hundred pounds from the mantelpiece and herself from the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
‘There’s a loo off the living room, right?’ Miss Delante said. ‘She can wash up?’
‘Of course,’ Angel said. ‘But these girls always carry wet wipes.’
‘Ugh, you disgusting male clients with all your leakages,’ Miss Delante said, pulling a comic face of disgust.
‘Please, Nicole, you love it,’ Angel said, grinning. ‘I once saw you suck off every boy after a male tennis doubles match at school, and swallow every last drop. And then you did the umpire, too.’
‘Mmm, that was Herr Hoffman,’ Nicole said dreamily, drawing on her cigarette. ‘So hot! I had the most enormous crush on him. Remember? Big and blond and built like a brick shithouse, thigh muscles the size of hams? I saved him for last. God, I’d never do that again, though, five in a row! Someone told me a few years ago that the calorie content of sperm is through the roof! It was all very well when I was sixteen – seriously, you can suck guys off all day at that age and not put on a pound.’
Killer Diamonds Page 9
