‘You bastard!’
Poppy heard the voice and turned to see who had spoken. She glimpsed Derek Knight’s face, twisted into an expression that went somewhere between shock and lurid intrigue. Then Arthur was gently guiding her head back to his erection.
‘Carry on’ Poppy,’ Arthur said, kindly but firmly. ‘We don’t want to stop now, do we?’
Poppy felt like doing nothing but stopping. Her own arousal was quickly evaporating and the thought of having both partners of the law firm see her like this was more than just a little humiliating. But despite her own feelings, she continued to suck on Arthur’s length as he dealt with his brother.
‘How long has this been going on?’ she heard Derek demanding.
‘About five minutes,’ Arthur replied honestly. ‘I’ll be done soon if you want a go,’ he added calmly.
Poppy drew a sharp breath, as though she had been slapped. She tried to glare angrily up at Arthur but it was difficult because of her position. It was also difficult because his casual offer had refuelled the fading embers of her arousal. She listened intently, desperate to hear what Derek would say or do by way of response.
‘She’s got nice titties,’ Derek remarked absently.
‘She’s good at blowing,’ Arthur told him. Poppy could feel the tremor of each word vibrating in the end of his length.
‘What’s her chuff like?’
‘Why don’t you find out for yourself. I haven’t had a chance to look down there yet.
Poppy knew she should have felt outraged but her arousal was just too great. Neither of the men was particularly attractive or exciting but their casual abuse was intensely exhilarating. She had never considered herself to be anyone’s sexual plaything before today. The image that stared back from the mirror was disappointing and lacking in any sort of sex appeal. Yet here were two men talking about what they wanted to do with her and preparing to compare notes. Poppy could feel the pulse of her arousal beating louder than ever before. Her anticipation was so heated she expected to spontaneously combust at any moment.
She could hear Derek moving behind her before his hands caressed her buttocks through the coarse fabric of her skirt. He traced the shape of her arse, then allowed the tips of his fingers to follow the line of her panties where they pulled taut into the rounded swell of the cheeks.
She held her breath, still sucking hard on Arthur’s cock. She felt Derek’s fingers tug at her clothing, then wrench hard at it. There was the sound of fabric tearing and then the skirt was being pulled away from her. The coarse fibres seemed to caress her legs as the garment was dragged from her body.
Then Derek’s hands were caressing her backside again, this time unencumbered by the skirt. His fingers followed the same path as before, stroking along the edge of her panties where the elastic cut into her flesh.
Poppy drew a shivering breath, sucking harder on Arthur’s cock.
Casually, Derek slipped the tips of his fingers beneath the elastic of her panties.
Poppy shuddered. He had carelessly drawn his fingers against the boiling lips of her sex. The pleasure his touch inspired was so strong it was cataclysmic.
Both hands were beneath the panties now. His cool skin was pressed firmly against the warmth of her buttocks. With a sudden, unexpectedly rough gesture, she felt Derek tugging the panties away from her. His hands snatched and tore at the fabric. Each brutal movement was done without any thought for her and this only added to Poppy’s arousal. As he tried to tug the rent garment from her, she realised the gusset remained intact and was pressing with uncomfortable accuracy over the heated tip of her clitoris.
She moved her mouth away from Arthur’s cock for a moment, giving voice to a groan of dark, guttural satisfaction. It seemed unreal to be experiencing an orgasm so powerful and strong under these circumstances. Nevertheless, a satisfying explosion of pleasure coursed through her body.
With casual tug at her hair, Arthur guided her mouth back to his cock. ‘I’m close to coming, Poppy,’ he told her flatly. ‘You wouldn’t want to spoil your fortnight off by not drinking all of it, would you?’
There was something about his casual dominance over her that made her inner muscles clench hungrily. He had just instructed her to swallow his come and she had pliantly agreed. She did not know which part excited her the most: his arrogant control, or her own yielding submission. She did not have time to contemplate the thought, suddenly distracted as Derek Knight slid his fingers against the moistened heat of her sex.
Poppy released a second groan, this one muffled by the cock that filled her mouth.
‘She’s good and wet,’ Derek noted.
Poppy gasped as the slid a finger deep into her warmth. The broad tip spread her lips wide open and as the end tickled inside she could feel herself on the brink of another orgasm.
‘And she’s tight too.’ Derek spoke to his brother as though Poppy were unable to hear him. ‘But I don’t really want to fuck her chuff.’
Poppy could feel Arthur shrugging as she worked her tongue against his pulsing length. ‘What’s her arsehole like?’ Arthur asked.
Poppy wanted to scream with excitement. She held her breath, unwilling to experience the joy of another orgasm just yet and struggling to stave off the threatening moment of pleasure. It was a battle that she might have won, if Derek had not picked that moment to test a wet finger against the rim of her arsehole.
Poppy shrieked.
As the rude finger slid deep into the depths of her dark canal, Poppy felt a series of orgasms explode inside her, each more powerful than the last. She sucked hard on Arthur’s cock and squirmed her arse eagerly against the intrusion of Derek’s finger. Her entire body was shivering with the aftermath of her multiple climaxes.
‘Her arse is tighter than a gnat’s twat,’ Derek said, a grin tainting his words. ‘And I suppose I could fuck it at a pinch, but I fancy a blow job.’
‘Chuffing typical,’ Arthur growled with good-natured annoyance. ‘When we were kids, you always wanted the toys I was playing with. Now you’re after the blow job that I’m having.’
Poppy sucked hard on Arthur’s length, the men’s casual discussion exciting her more and more.
‘Couldn’t she suck us both at the same time?’ Derek asked.
Poppy heard him unzipping his pants and stepping out of them. From the corner of her eye, she saw his semi-hard cock swaying close to her face.
‘Take a seat,’ Arthur growled sullenly. ‘And pull it up close to mine. This lass has too good a tongue to waste it.’
Derek did as he was asked and pulled his chair so that he was sitting next to his brother. Poppy glanced at his cock and watched him roll his fist up and down the shaft, forcing it into full erection. Like his brother, he was uncircumcised but his foreskin had rolled right back to reveal his swollen purple end. Without waiting for an instruction, she reached her cool fingers against the man’s cock, then moved her mouth over it.
‘This is one hell of a way to start the morning,’ Derek observed, caressing the back of Poppy’s head as she sucked on him. ‘What’s the celebration for?’
‘Poppy wanted a couple of weeks off,’ Arthur explained, allowing Poppy to gently stroke her fingers up and down his length. ‘She’s doing this for me now, and I’m going to let her have the time off.’
‘It’s a good job you didn’t ask for a rise,’ Derek said, speaking to Poppy. ‘This bastard would be fucking your arse for the next twelve months if you’d done that.’
The two men guffawed together and Poppy felt another sickening wave of humiliating pleasure wash over her. They were still speaking about her with such callous disregard that she might as well have been deaf. Their sexist banter and cold indifference should have been degrading or annoying at the very least. Instead, Poppy could feel herself heading towards another climax at breakneck speed.
She rolled her tongue wetly against Derek’s cock, carefully wanking Arthur’s with her free hand. As soon as the senior partner deigned
it was time for her to move her head, Poppy felt her hair being pulled so that her mouth went over his cock. She sucked both the men, wetting their lengths with her lips and tongue and gently massaging the bases of their erections.
The fact that she was naked only added fuel to the flames of her arousal. She could not recall feeling so excited in her entire life. She was being forced to kneel on the floor and perform fellatio for her employers. The absolute degradation was so sweet she was having difficulty containing another shriek of ecstasy.
‘Suck it harder, Poppy,’ Arthur growled suddenly. ‘I’m just about ready to spunk.’
Poppy had already guessed this much. She could feel the quickening pulse in his cock against her lip. Arthur was so close to climaxing she could almost taste his ejaculation. The salty-sweet flavour of his pre-come was already filling her nostrils and coating her tongue. As she pursed her lips around his length and fondled his balls, Poppy felt Arthur tensing against the threat of his impending orgasm.
‘I want you to drink every bloody drop of this, lass,’ he growled, swallowing thickly around his cry of excitement.
Poppy could feel herself shaking. She dared to tease the tip of her finger beneath his balls and stroke against the rim of his anus. The gesture was more then sufficient to push him beyond the brink. The pulse of his climax shuddered along the length of his stiff cock, forcing the first thick spurt of semen against the back of her throat.
The sudden explosion in her mouth and the taste of his seed were too much for Poppy. She had been fighting against the onset of another orgasm but the taste of Arthur’s come was too much for her. She squeezed her tightly together and felt the warm release of her climax flood in a sticky spray between her legs. If she had not been working so furiously on his length, she would have bellowed as the pleasure tore through her.
Her head was swimming with excitement and she felt more aroused than she had imagined it was possible to feel. She heard a distant cry and, glancing up from Arthur’s cock, she realised Derek was close to coming. Acting without thinking, she moved her mouth over the tip of his shaft, just as he exploded.
Before she had finished swallowing the semen from Arthur’s ejaculation, his brother’s fluid was filling her mouth. The pulse of Derek’s cock was not as hard as Arthur’s had been, but he was spraying far more semen into her. The white-hot liquid filled her mouth and Poppy almost gagged as she struggled to swallow it all.
‘Good lass,’ Arthur Knight said, stroking her hair, and guiding her face back to his wilting length. ‘If you lick me clean now, then I’ll let you take your fortnight’s holiday.’
‘Can you get her to lick me clean?’ Derek asked, his voice shaky with the residue of his excitement.
‘When you’ve finished, lick Derek clean,’ Arthur instructed flatly, as Poppy rolled her tongue over his length. She could still feel the buzz of an electric thrill tingling her pussy lips. Poppy had already decided that she would have to play with herself to relieve some of the pent-up feelings this encounter had caused. As she turned her head back to Derek’s cock, she stole a hand between her legs and dared to tease her sex. A finger brushed over her clitoris and pleasure began to course through her as she worked her tongue over his shaft.
‘You know,’ Derek said suddenly, speaking to Arthur. ‘We really ought to offer this service to some of our more prestigious clients.’
His words, and the hint of future submissions that they alluded to, were too much for Poppy. It was not only the pressure of her fingertips against the pulsing bead of her clitoris. The euphoria of this threatened humiliation left her squealing as the thrill of another orgasm swept over her. After this, she wondered if her fortnight’s holiday might not seem like an anticlimax.
Four
‘Bloody hell!’ Wendy whispered. She had been about to leave the east wing’s storeroom, her duties there concluded for another day, when the sudden movement caught her eye. She stepped towards the window and peered through, wondering if she had been mistaken. With her face pressed against the glass, she stared across the empty lawn towards the partially blinded window in the west wing.
The health farm’s main building had been constructed with two great semicircular wings. In the tip of each lay unused rooms almost forgotten by the staff and clientele, and seldom visited. From the pane in the east wing’s storeroom, Wendy had a clear view of the scene in the west wing.
‘Bloody hell!’ she gasped again, equal measures of shock and excitement colouring her works. ‘That’s obscene.’ Without another thought, she rushed from the storeroom, determined to investigate.
It took he less than tow minutes to sprint through the building, her pace hurried by a dark intrigue that had not touched her for months. A handful of early-risers greeted her as she trotted briskly through the corridors of Elysian Fields and she acknowledged each with a polite but cursory nod. If she had seen Bryn or Allen she would have encouraged them to join her but the masseurs were not scheduled to start work for another hour. Not giving her own safety any thought, Wendy made her way to the west wing alone.
‘Please. No. No more.’
She could hear the man’s pitiful cries of protest as she neared the west wing’s forgotten room. Normally she would have associated wails like that with pain, discomfort and agony, but this tone sounded different. There was a suggestion of enjoyment in the pleas for leniency and Wendy felt her curiosity deepen. She could recognise John’s voice beneath the unfamiliar cries for mercy and she knew he was with the woman they were calling the Black Widow. The only thing Wendy did not know was what the pair of them were doing. She approached the closed door with the stealth of a natural voyeur. Her heart was pounding and she could feel her mood being coloured by the delicious flush of arousal.
‘I promise I won’t say a word. Not to the police. Not to Faye Meadows. Not to anyone. I promise.’
Wendy stepped closer to the door, wishing it had been left ajar. There were no internal windows to the room and the only glimpse inside was afforded from the eye of the mortise lock’s keyhole. Kneeling in front of the door, she pressed one eye to the keyhole and tried to make sense of what was going on. Barely aware that she was speaking aloud, Wendy whispered, ‘Bloody hell!’
‘I thank you for your promise, John. It’s nice to finally hear some compliance in your tone. But the truth is that I can’t trust you. That’s why I’m going to have to take this measure.’
By squinting, and using a little guesswork, Wendy was able to make out the scene in the room. She could see John was secured to a contraption that looked like a birthing-stool. Towering over him, with a padlock in one hand, the Black Widow was smiling ferociously.
Allen and Bryn, the health farm’s male masseurs, had already spoken to Wendy about the new manager. Their reports had been more than a little disturbing. Her name was Sky, although she preferred to be known as the Black Widow, an epithet that both men had thought peculiarly apt. The Black Widow was cruel, merciless and uncaring, they had told Wendy. The words ‘bitch’, ‘cunt’ and ‘ball-breaker’ had been used repeatedly as the two men tried to explain exactly how bad the woman was.
Wendy had treated their comments with polite contempt, determined to make up her own mind about the newcomer. Watching the forbidding blonde woman smile menacingly down at John, she began to suspect the pair had not been exaggerating.
‘Please. No,’ John begged.
Sky was smiling, her lips twisted into a sneer of contempt. ‘You’re beyond the begging stage now, John,’ she told him. ‘You should have realised by now that it does no good. I’m going to do what I want anyway.’
Wendy drew a shocked breath as she studied the couple. John’s body was scoured with welts and lines, as though he had recently received a series of vicious and cruel thrashings.
‘Look at that,’ Sky grumbled. ‘You’ve gone hard again, John. That really isn’t helping me, is it?’ Not bothering to wait for his reply, she snatched his solid length and began to roll her hand up and down
him. ‘Should I wank you off, or try and beat the come out of your balls?’
Wendy pressed herself closer against the door. John was struggling in the birthing-stool, beseeching Sky to listen to him.
The woman ignored him. ‘I could hit your balls with my crop,’ she explained, tapping a finger against the tight swell of his sac. ‘I could do it repeatedly, and I bet you’d come, wouldn’t you?’
‘Please don’t,’ he begged.
Sky’s smile was tinged with malice. She worked her hand up and down his cock in quickening movements. Wendy could see the swollen head appearing then disappearing in Sky’s fist. She saw John stiffen in the chair and realised he was close to coming. Sky moved her mouth down to her hand, wanking his cock towards the ripe swell of her lips.
‘Not again,’ John moaned. The protest was torn from his mouth as the explosion erupted between his legs. Wendy watched Sky drop her lips over the pulsing head of John’s cock, greedily lapping up his seed. She could see John struggling unhappily against his restraints as though he was not enjoying the pleasure that Sky was giving him. ‘Not again.’ Wendy’s eyes widened with excitement as she saw John thrashing wildly in a futile attempt to escape the Black Widow’s plan.
‘Please don’t,’ John insisted.
Sky had her face over his. If Wendy had not just seen her sucking John’s length, she would have expected Sky to kiss him. As she watched, she saw Sky spit John’s come into his face.
‘Bitch,’ Wendy whispered incredulously.
John was twisting from side to side, his revulsion clear in the tortured expression straining his features. A thick string of his seed trailed from Sky’s lips and she wiped it absently away with the back of her hand. After forcing him to lick her fingers clean, she held up the padlock and grinned. ‘Now that your erection isn’t going to get in the way, it’s time to use this.’
The Black Widow Page 6
