‘Go back to bed,’ he said.
‘All right,’ she replied submissively.
‘I’ll keep this.’ He yanked the sheet off her, leaving her naked in the cold passageway. Even though he had been inside her only five minutes ago, the way he looked at her as he left made Vanessa blush.
There was a sound in the corridor just outside the bedroom where Vanessa lay. It sounded like some kind of motor, or perhaps a fan, had been switched on. She couldn’t be sure because she couldn’t see. She was blindfolded. And she couldn’t go out to investigate the sound because she was handcuffed to the bed, face down.
Vanessa was lying bound and blindfolded and completely naked in an empty apartment up for rent. There was nothing in it except for the bed upon which she lay spread-eagled and handcuffed to the brass bedstead. The bedstead and bed were a trademark of Martin’s agency. ‘Give them the feeling they can fuck there,’ he always said, ‘and they’ll pay twice the going market rent.’ Which was why Vanessa was not surprised to find the bed in the apartment when he first took her there, or to find herself energetically fucking him on it a few minutes later. Now, however, she did wonder where he had got to, and why. Before he left, slamming the door behind him, he had turned on the heat, because it was warmer in the room. She pulled against her bonds. Why would he want the place warm now after he had fucked her? Yet she could not really concentrate on the question, because being tied up made her horny as sin and all she wanted was for him to come back and fuck her again.
She heard the front door open; a lock disengaged, and footsteps sounded down the hall.
‘Martin?’ she called, but there was only silence.
‘Don’t be a sod!’ she cried. ‘Say something!’
‘The south exposure is quite grand,’ she finally heard his voice commenting as he approached the bedroom and opened the door, which creaked slightly on its hinges. And then she heard the soft, gentle scuffing of another set of footsteps. Or was it two more sets? ‘You’ll find, gentlemen, that this flat offers opportunities most apartments do not.’
Yes, there were two more sets of footsteps! Vanessa blushed like a peach in late summer when she realised he had men with him, two men! She was sure of it now; she could smell aftershave that definitely wasn’t his.
‘Very nice, isn’t it?’ Martin’s voice continued pleasantly. She could feel him standing over her now, which meant he could see right up into her body. She writhed against the mattress and pulled desperately on the ropes holding her legs open. There were two other men with him, and for all she knew, they were standing on either side of him enjoying an unimpeded view of her most intimate places. And suddenly, she felt a hand trace the lines of one of her shapely buttocks.
‘Oh,’ she gasped. ‘Martin, you bastard, cover me up.’
The hand came down hard on her bottom with a ringing smack that sounded incredibly loud in the empty room.
‘Ouch!’ she exclaimed, more in surprise than in pain.
‘The fittings and fixtures are most flexible,’ Martin went on as though he couldn’t hear her. Maddeningly, he was giving his usual pitch even as she felt a hand creeping up between her thighs again. She had no way of knowing if it was his hand, but she didn’t want him to spank her again, so even though she writhed against the bed and pulled on her bonds, she didn’t say anything as he kept on selling. ‘You’ll find all the original decorations, no renovations have been necessary.’ The hand had reached her buttocks and was massaging one of her cheeks, making her yelp it squeezed so hard. Then she felt it rise off her before it came down again even harder.
‘Oh, my God!’ she gasped. ‘What was that for?’
‘Offer yourself up, bitch,’ Martin addressed her suddenly. ‘Don’t you want to sell? Push your arse up.’
‘Are you crazy? I’m not...’
‘Push your arse up or I’ll fuck you right here in front of these two gentlemen, and then you still won’t have a job.’
Gritting her teeth, Vanessa found herself pushing her bottom up towards the punishing hand. At least she knew it was his hand now. But for how long? He had just told her there were two other men in the room, she just didn’t know where they were standing, or what they were thinking.
‘Does she do tricks?’ a deep, foreign voice inquired. She tried, but she couldn’t place the accent.
‘Sure, anything you like,’ Martin replied.
‘Now, wait a minute!’ she shrieked. ‘I’m not...’
‘Shut up and open your mouth,’ Martin commanded.
‘Now wait just a minute!’ she tried desperately.
‘Keep your mouth nice and wide open, Vanessa. This is a sales job, remember.’
‘I’m not a bloody tart! I...!’ She cried out in real pain this time as something thin and flat and hard cut into her buttocks with a hiss and a crack. A riding crop? It struck her again, but this time her scream was cut off as her mouth was filled with a stiff penis. She choked a little as its owner drove it into the back of her throat and started fucking her, moving back and forth between her lips while her head was held in place by his fingers gripping her hair. She started to feel light-headed as the cock used her face like a pussy and fucked and fucked and fucked her mouth until it finally exploded, and forced her to swallow mouthful after mouthful of hot sperm surging from the balls of some strange man she couldn’t even see.
Vanessa gasped for air when the blindfold was pulled off, and she lay panting on the bed after the thankfully spent erection slipped out of her mouth. The light hurt her eyes at first, then her blurred vision focused, and glancing over her shoulder, she saw Martin standing in his coat just behind her. To her right, a man in a beige suit was zipping up his fly. Another man, wearing a grey charcoal morning coat, was standing beside Martin directly behind her - right between her open legs - and he was holding a small vial. Both the strangers were black, a very deep black like ebony. She blinked in an effort to clear her head as she looked back at Martin again. ‘You bastard,’ she hissed.
‘Don’t worry, sweetie, you’re not finished yet,’ he said condescendingly, nodded, and the man in the coat approached the bed as he opened the vial in his hand.
‘No, Martin, no,’ she panted. ‘I’m not...’
‘Do you want a job?’ he asked in a maddeningly reasonable tone.
‘No, I don’t...’ she spat, before adding, ‘what’s he doing?’
The man in the morning coat squeezed some white liquid onto his palm as he knelt between her legs at the end of the mattress. She felt his fingers slip between the cheeks of her bottom, and then one of them slipped into her anus and very efficiently lubricated her tight back passage with the cool, greasy ointment.
‘No,’ she murmured. ‘Martin, don’t let him do this to me. I’m not...’
‘What aren’t you?’ He had lit a cigarette and was leaning back against the wall, watching as the man finished greasing her rear hole, knelt up, and began undoing his trousers.
‘I’m not for sale,’ Vanessa sobbed into the pillow. ‘I’m not for sale...’
‘But it looks to me like you can be rented,’ Martin said.
She shook her head as the second man, now free of his trousers and boxer shorts, crawled towards her on the bed, his long brown cock fully erect. He spread himself on top of her, and gently kissed the soft curls at the nape of her neck as his heavy body pressed her down into the mattress. Then he reached down to part her cheeks, and began thrusting his penis slowly, insistently and inexorably into her bottom...
As she lay quietly, her flushed cheek on the pillow, Martin came back into the room holding the contract he had just signed with the two clients before they left, along with a cheque. He waved it back and forth in her face. ‘Maybe you have a future in this business after all,’ he said, sitting down beside her on the bed.
‘That was terrible,’ she said flatly. ‘Terrible.’
&nbs
p; ‘What was terrible?’ he mocked. ‘The fact that they were foreigners? That your arse is too tight?’
‘I’m not a whore,’ she complained. ‘I’m a professional woman. I can do the job. I can sell. You didn’t have to let them have my body.’
‘Well, sweetie,’ Martin pulled his tie loose, ‘it’s like this. I didn’t really let them have your body, I simply renegotiated the fixtures. You want to sell, don’t you?’
‘What do you mean?’
He undid the top button of his shirt. ‘You’re the agent of record on this letting. The commission is yours. You’ll be collecting, of course.’ He kicked off his shoes.
‘I get commission?’
‘Yes, you’re the commission agent. You get all the money. But you have to come and collect it every month from them.’ He took off his jacket.
‘You mean, I’ll have to...?’
‘I expect you will, my dear, I expect you will. Still, it’s a nice big letting, and I’m sure you want to keep your job.’ He took off his trousers.
‘You expect to fuck me again now?’ she whispered. ‘You treat me like a whore, and then you want to fuck me again? Let me up. Please, untie me. Let me up.’
‘Can’t do that.’ He folded his trousers neatly, and hung them over the brass bedstead.
‘Let me up,’ she cried.
‘No. You see, the cheque hasn’t cleared yet, so I can’t be sure they’ll honour the contract. A letting isn’t a letting until the money clears, I’m sure you’ll agree. So, I have to show the property again in half an hour.’
Vanessa’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘You mean...?’
‘Yes, two Japanese gentlemen. Lovely chaps. Well, they sounded lovely on the phone. Anyway, they haven’t got anything you haven’t had before, an old professional like you. You do whatever it takes to get the job done, don’t you?’
She felt the blood rushing to her face again, and suddenly she suffered the impression that she would be tied to that bed for the rest of her life.
‘Aren’t you a professional, Vanessa?’
‘I just wanted to keep my job,’ she said in a small voice.
‘Didn’t you sleep with me to keep the job?’
‘Maybe...’
‘Well, do it once, and you may as well do it a thousand times. Which you may very well have to, if you want to keep working for me. A lot of beds in a lot of short-term lets. But the money’s good. You can’t really sell your arse more than once, my love. Only once, over and over, a thousand times. A million times. But it’s a lovely pair of cheeks you have, and I’m sure you’ll love the closings. Speaking of which, we only have twenty minutes, so push your bum up for me. Can’t very well have the clients getting better service from my staff than I get myself.’
Vanessa felt her tears dry on her face as he kissed the back of her neck like the second man had done. She turned her face to look at him, and found his cock next to her mouth. She knew she had to suck it, and she did, until he pulled it out of her mouth, slick with her saliva, and thrust it without any further lubrication into her bottom, and she begged him to go slowly.
‘All right, anything Vanessa wants,’ he whispered into her ear, and ploughed his erection into her from behind over and over again. Yet she still found herself writhing against the mattress in the throes of a blinding climax as he penetrated her deeply and inescapably, and she listened for footsteps on the stairway outside announcing more clients coming to rent her body.
Blowing Your Aces
My husband likes me to play cards with his friends. He likes me to play strip poker with his friends. It all began quite innocently. The game was a regular event. The guys would drop by the house on Thursday or Friday night and play a few hands, just my husband and three of his bowling buddies - Frank, Eddie and Mike. My husband, Billy, is a sociable guy, he likes hanging out with the boys, and who was I to object if he brought them home once a week; at least it meant he was home.
One night I was bringing them some snacks - little frankfurters on sticks and potato chips and dip - like I usually did, it was only hospitable. Billy used to like showing me off to his buddies before we got married, so I thought the least I could do was help him out when he entertained them. I wore a short dress every now and then, I won’t deny it. Hell, I’m entitled to a little excitement, same as the next girl.
Well, on this particular night, Billy was losing badly. He loved playing cards but they never seemed to like him, especially the aces, if you know what I mean. He was holding on to nothing while Frank seemed to be picking up all the good cards. Frank had always liked me, and his eyes lingered openly on me when I was in the room. Frank had money; whenever we went out as a gang, Frank never was short of change to buy the rounds. And he always dressed well, not like Billy’s other friends. Now that he and Billy were gambling together regularly, Frank was picking up ten, twenty notes a night from him, and they were notes my dear husband couldn’t afford.
On the night I’m talking about, as I was bringing in the tray of frankfurters, Bill was cursing the latest of his worthless hands. Meanwhile, smiling in satisfaction at his own spread, Frank gave me a long, leisurely look, his eyes lingering on my cleavage - well-displayed by my tight black sweater’s deep V-neck - as I bent to kiss Billy’s neck. I was wearing a matching short black skirt and black pantyhose with high-heels, and I deliberately hadn’t bothered with a bra.
‘Bill, how about I cut you a break on those expensive hands you keep playing?’ Frank offered as he reached over and speared a frankfurter off the tray from directly beneath my bosom.
‘What you talking about, Frank?’ Billy sounded tired, and he barely seemed to notice when I kissed him. He was studying his cards and rubbing his face.
‘Well, how about we widen the betting frame?’ Frank’s voice sounded strangely dreamy, distant, dangerous. I don’t know why, but that’s the feeling I got when I looked at his inscrutable smile.
‘What terms?’ Bill asked, throwing out a card. It was the wrong one, even I could have told him that, but he never listens to me. He glanced up at Frank, wiping sweat off his brow. The other two men were listening intently, which in retrospect leads me to suspect they had talked this out between them beforehand.
‘Well,’ Frank went on, ‘the way I see it, you’re down fifteen-hundred already tonight. That makes nearly five-thousand you’ve dropped this month, and it’s only the third game of the month. You got that kind of money, Billy?’
‘Don’t worry about my kind of money,’ my husband said, slipping his arm around my waist and resting his hand on my bottom. He always did that whenever his manhood was challenged.
‘Well, don’t you have any other kind of assets you could show?’ Frank riffled his cards gently with one hand.
‘Like what?’ Billy sounded curious now.
‘Like what your hand’s on,’ Frank replied, his smile deepening. Mike chuckled, and Eddie cleared his throat as he shifted a little in his chair. The three of them had talked it over beforehand, I’m sure of it. I wore short skirts around them, yes, but I hadn’t asked for this. Billy will tell you I never asked for this. At the time I wasn’t exactly sure for a moment what Frank meant, but Billy knew straight off. I saw a blush creeping up his neck and looked at him in surprise. I had just grasped what Frank was implying and had been about to laugh it off until I saw Billy, my Billy, blushing. Why should he be blushing unless he’d had some thoughts along these lines himself? I was beside myself when I suddenly realised my husband had considered betting me in poker, but before I could react, I heard him ask, ‘You thinking a hundred dollars a garment?’
‘Well,’ Frank said, ‘a garment per pot, or if it gets bigger, I guess a garment for every hundred dollars, sure. You guys interested enough in seeing Fanny’s goods to spot Bill a hundred a garment, boys?’
Eddie and Mike both grunted in agreement, careful not to look at me.
‘It’s an eat-in kitchen,’ Billy corrected me, ‘and you always say we can’t afford what I’m losing.’
‘So stop losing!’ I felt myself blushing to the roots of my hair, but I do believe the truth is that I found it all very exciting and that’s why I sounded so angry. ‘You don’t have to keep playing, Billy.’ I was aware of the fact that Frank’s eyes never left my breasts, in fact, the feel of them resting on my cleavage just got warmer and warmer. I folded my arms across my chest.
‘It’s not quite as simple as that, Fanny.’ Frank reached across the table and speared another frankfurter. ‘Billy’s been losing pretty regularly lately, and when I ask - that is, when Eddie, Mike and me ask - if he can afford that kind of money, we’re not referring to whether or not he can afford to lose what he hasn’t lost yet, it’s whether he can afford to pay what he already owes.’
‘You mean...?’
‘Oh yes,’ Frank said, biting the sausage off the toothpick and then twirling the stick around and around between his fingers. ‘He owes way more than what’s been going out of your account. What he’s been dropping on the table in front of you is nothing. We’ve been gambling on Tuesday nights too, and sometimes Wednesday nights, every time he told you he was at work.’
I sat down in the empty chair beside Billy’s, my head spinning. I couldn’t think, but I knew I was playing this game whether I held the cards in my hand or not, and I could feel my face getting redder and warmer. Then, his eyes meeting mine, Frank laughed softly and put his cards down.
First, Billy bet a two pair and an ace against what turned out to be the straight flush in Eddie’s hand, at which point I slipped off my high-heels.
School for Nurses Page 9
