by Primula Bond
‘I can’t tell you how good that evening in the red room was.’
Helen trembled. She couldn’t recall being teased to such a state of desperate arousal in a long time. Her need was so overwhelming she could feel her sex muscles suckling greedily on the stranger’s finger as it delved deeper into her moist confines. She wondered how he was able to keep his finger inside her while the leather-clad woman pressed so tight. And then she decided she didn’t care how he was doing it, as long as he continued to give her the satisfaction that her body craved. She held herself stiff, fearful of moving in case she did anything that would break the thrall of the moment and make the pleasure stop.
‘I use the red room because it’s a way for me to be adored by dozens of people,’ the woman whispered. ‘Men or women. I don’t mind. It’s a way for me to be used fully and completely in the way I want to be used. And I’ve never come out of there disappointed. I only need to go in and smell the sweat and the semen and the pussy scents, and I’m so wet I could fuck for hours.’
There was a moment when Helen thought she had climaxed. Her entire body was briefly numb from the build-up of stimuli and she wondered if she had suffered a minor orgasm from all the teasing foreplay of suggestion and gentle caresses.
‘You make it sound irresistible,’ Helen admitted. It was a struggle to speak with a steady voice. She expected her throat to catch on the words, but, to her surprise, they came out sounding as though they’d been spoken by a woman in control of her responses.
‘We’re on our way up there now.’
The woman moved back, giving Helen an encouraging smile. She gestured to the people around them. There were fewer than Helen had noticed before. From the corner of her eye she saw that some of them were making their way through the door at the far end of the room. She guessed they were already headed up to the red room.
‘Would you care to come with us?’
‘It sounds very tempting. Almost irresistible.’
She turned to the stranger by her side. As their eyes met he withdrew the finger that had been nestled inside her pussy. Drawing it slowly from between her lips, making her shudder with its slippery egress, he held her with an expectant gaze.
‘Would you be playing with me in the red room?’ she asked.
‘I’d welcome the chance to play with you anywhere.’
She reached for his hand. The finger that had been inside her was wet with the dewy memory of her sex. She raised the hand in front of her face and caught the distinctive scent of her own musk. Holding his gaze as she pulled the finger towards her mouth, she lapped at her own bittersweet taste. Savouring the moment, she took his finger into her mouth and suckled him greedily. She was conscious of the thinning crowd around her. Some of them were watching but the majority had seen more exciting things than a woman sucking a stranger’s pussy-wet finger.
She wasn’t sure if the hem of her skirt was hitched up, exposing her shaved and sodden cleft to everyone in the room, but she was beyond caring about showing herself so gratuitously. All that mattered in that moment was sucking her flavour from the tip of the stranger’s finger.
‘You’d welcome the chance to play with me anywhere?’ she repeated.
‘Anywhere,’ he said firmly.
Helen kept hold of his hand and stood up. She took the stranger and joined the exodus of swingers as they walked towards the stairs and headed for the red room.
* * *
Tony kissed her as they met at the door on their way out of Club K.
His hand went to her rear and he gave her buttock a good-natured squeeze. It was a familiar gesture and she knew it meant, when they returned home, they would make love with a passion that was fuelled by sharing the highlights of all they had enjoyed whilst inside the club.
‘Did you have a good evening?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘I had fun. How about you?’
He chuckled. ‘I had a lot of fun. Certainly enough to make me want to come back here next month.’
Helen nodded agreement. ‘We’re definitely coming back next month,’ she assured him. Silently she thought: And next month, I’m definitely going to do the red room.
Everybody’s Favourite
Penny Birch
I was woken by the sound of Mr Protheroe’s snoring. It was pitch black, warm and snug, so I’d have been asleep again in a moment if it hadn’t been for a sudden jolt of adrenalin as memories of the party came flooding back, the dirty game I’d played and lost, being passed around for spanking, then taken upstairs by Mr Protheroe for a fuck. By the time he’d come between the cheeks of my bottom I’d been too tired to do more than mop up and collapse into bed, where I fell asleep to the sound of laughter, voices and the smack of leather on one of the other girls’ bottoms as she in turn paid her forfeit.
Now there was only silence, and the party seemed to be over, but I wanted a pee and a proper wash, maybe also to find a bed that wasn’t occupied by a large snoring man who was likely to wake up and start molesting me at any moment. I’d lost the game, taken my punishment and enjoyed it, but I needed a good night’s sleep and preferred to start my day with a cup of coffee rather than a mouthful of spunk.
The landing light was still on but nobody else was about. As I scampered across to the loo it occurred to me that it might be a good idea to go downstairs and retrieve my clothes, all of which I’d lost in the course of the game, or at least my panties and top, so that I didn’t have to come down in the nude next morning. Once I was out of the loo I started down the stairs, only to pull up short as I caught the sound of voices, very faint. They were coming from the living room, where the party had been held, but given that they’d already seen everything I had to show, and most of them had spanked me, that was hardly an issue. I carried on, but stopped again as Morris’s voice became clear.
‘… if this Czech girl’s really such a greedy little bitch we ought to run a book at the next big club. We’d make a killing.’
I didn’t know what he was talking about, except that it seemed to involve some scheme to make money, so I carried on listening.
‘Oh, she’s greedy,’ Melody replied. ‘There were eighteen men in one stag party and she handled them all, more than half in a spit roast. She’d only been paid to strip, so she’s the real thing.’
‘I can take eighteen,’ Annabelle put in, a little sulky.
‘Exactly,’ Morris told her, ‘which is why most of the money will be on you, especially if we offer a good price. Then this Eliska girl wins and we clean up.’
‘Not too good a price,’ Melody pointed out. ‘People will realise it’s fixed.’
‘True,’ Morris admitted. ‘I know, we make it a handicap. That way the odds will be much harder to judge, but we can put out what look like tempting picks with big handicaps.’
‘That makes sense,’ Melody agreed, ‘and we need a decent number of girls, maybe eight or ten.’
There was a lull in the conversation and I moved closer to peer through the gap between the door and its frame. I had a fair view of the room and of the three of them sitting in the debris of the party. Melody was on a sofa with Annabelle’s head in her lap, both stark naked. Morris was seated in his big armchair, with a large whisky by his side on a table cluttered with glasses and bottles, on one of which some joker had hung my panties. He was holding a notebook and a pen.
‘We’ll advertise it as a straightforward greedy-girl competition,’ he was saying, ‘with the girls in little booths so they can’t see each other, but with peepholes –’
‘Glory holes,’ Melody corrected him, ‘so the men are anonymous and it’s BJs only.’
‘Why so?’ Morris queried.
‘Because,’ Melody pointed out, ‘any girl can lie there and get fucked repeatedly, but it takes effort to give a blowjob. It’s less likely to get out of order too.’
‘Glory holes and peepholes then,’ Morris agreed, ‘with open tops so people can look in from the balconies. A big audience will help to weed out t
he posers from the real sluts.’
‘Yes,’ Annabelle put in, and I could hear the arousal in her voice, ‘and the prize goes to the girl who makes the most men come, and she has to show off what he’s done in her mouth each time.’
‘Nice detail,’ Morris responded. ‘So we’ve got Eliska then, and you, Annabelle. How about you, Mel?’
Melody made a face.
‘I’ll be compere. Harmony will be up for it, and Sophie Cherwell.’
‘She likes her cock,’ Morris agreed, ‘and she’ll be on a low handicap too. Penny, Amber?’
‘Too much like hard work,’ Melody objected. ‘Let’s stick to girls who don’t have to be spanked first.’
Morris laughed and continued to write in his book, until Annabelle spoke up.
‘How about little Jemima?’
I stiffened at the mention of my name, for all that my mind had already been working on the possibilities offered by the competition.
‘She’s good,’ Morris replied, bringing me a flush of pride that quickly turned to chagrin as he went on: ‘A dirty little bitch, that’s for sure, but I doubt she’s a stayer and she’s very young.’
‘We need some big handicap girls,’ Melody pointed out. ‘Gemma Anderson?’
‘Maybe,’ Morris responded, a little doubtful, ‘but I’m sure we’ll get plenty of volunteers. It’s the betting that matters, and it’s important the prize isn’t too big, or that will upset the odds. Maybe even just a token.’
‘Like those cock-shaped lollipops you can get?’ Annabelle suggested. ‘But how are we going to make sure the girls don’t know about the betting? Or they’ll all have money on themselves and try really hard.’
Morris gave a thoughtful chuckle.
‘That would be funny. Imagine it, all eight or so girls, all absolutely dripping spunk because they’re desperate to win. I’m almost tempted, but it would mess up the odds completely. No, we put the girls in their cubicles at the beginning of the party, then announce that we’re taking bets. That way …’
They continued to discuss the details, but I’d already moved away from the door, my thoughts racing. Given what I’d overheard, I was in a position to make some serious money, certainly a lot more than the £250 I’d got for having my tail smacked the night before.
* * *
The basic idea was simple. Morris and Melody would be concentrating on their Czech girl, Eliska, while most of the serious punters would be backing Annabelle, or perhaps Sophie. Nobody was going to be taking any notice of me, very much a makeweight even with a good handicap. I’d been pretty naughty at some of the parties, but when it came to being a greedy girl I just wasn’t in the same league as Annabelle or several others, while my age and my reputation for caprice would also help.
The problem was that I’d be shut in my cubicle before the betting opened, so I needed a partner. It had to be somebody trustworthy, with a cool head, who didn’t mind running a scam on the Rathwells. They couldn’t be too close to me either, or Morris would get suspicious. Nor could they be anybody he’d credit with too much knowledge or common sense to bet on a rank outsider. That ruled out all the obvious choices, but one stood out, perfect in every way: Gavin Bulmer.
He’d had me when I worked at Morris’s hotel on the south coast, but I hadn’t seen him since. I remembered him as an arrogant city-boy, good-looking for his age, and dirty in a laddish sort of way, as if he was on a permanent stag night. He’d been living in Frankfurt, but I knew he was back in London because he’d run into my sister Pippa in a wine bar, and from the way he’d behaved towards her he obviously hadn’t changed in the last three years. He also saw himself as a rival to Morris, and after the way I’d behaved at the hotel it wouldn’t be unexpected for him to back me.
The only sensible way to set it up was face to face, so I could be absolutely sure there’d be no way of discovering what I’d been up to, because if Morris and Melody found out I’d not only lose my money but probably end up too sore to sit down for several months. That meant meeting up with Gavin without anybody else knowing, even Pippa. Fortunately he was easy to track down, although his Internet presence told a very different story from what I knew of his shady character.
His offices were on the twelfth floor of a tower block faced with golden mirror glass and staffed by self-important security guards and cold-eyed receptionists. I’d dressed the part, in a blue skirt suit with a thin red stripe, but the look I got when I asked to see Gavin made it very clear that as far as they were concerned I was right at the bottom of the food chain. That was until the name Jemima Bassington-Smyth had been passed up to him, and his response caused an instant change to deferential good manners.
I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I rose in the lift, imagining the receptionist’s reaction if she’d been able to picture the last time I’d seen Gavin Bulmer, on my knees with my mouth full of his come as I was humped into the ground as the prey in a perverted foxhunt. The memory was also highly embarrassing, for the way my fucking had ended, and I was still blushing by the time I’d managed to make my way past another receptionist and a secretary into his office. He didn’t seem to have changed at all, and to judge by the grin on his face his memory was as clear as my own.
‘Well, if it isn’t little Jemima Double-Barrel, miss doggy-style herself. And what brings you here?’
‘I have a proposition. Can you attend Morris Rathwell’s next big party, on the tenth?’
‘Morris Rathwell. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Still up to his old tricks, is he?’
‘Yes, and the thing is …’
I began to explain, and as he listened his grin grew gradually broader, to the point at which he could have rivalled the Cheshire Cat. Only when I’d finished did his expression change.
‘So we clean up on old Morris,’ he said. ‘That’s good, but you have to be sure to win. Eighteen guys you say this Eliska did, just for kicks? That’s a lot of cock.’
‘I looked up the record, it’s more than six hundred, and I took on more than twenty down at Friston, didn’t I? I’ll just keep going until I’m done, and if it’s hard to handle I’ll just think of all the money I’m going to make.’
‘That we’re going to make, baby doll. Not that I need it, but a quid off Morris is worth a ton any other way. OK, so you say you can do it, and I’ve seen you in action. You’re going to be in a cubicle, right, with guys looking down from the balcony, so I’ll be able to signal you when you’re done.’
‘Surely Melody will say when each girl drops out?’
‘Don’t count on it, just wait for my signal. I’ll be wearing a jacket – when I take it off, you’re done. Now lock the door and let’s seal the deal.’
It was no more than I’d been expecting, and when I turned to him again he’d pushed back his chair and had his cock and balls flopped out of his trousers. I got down on my hands and knees, crawled in under his desk and took him in my mouth. I wondered, as I sucked his cock, what it would be like to have to cope with as many men as chose to use me.
* * *
The club was in a huge ex-warehouse somewhere east of Barking. By the time Pippa and I got there it was already crowded, with a dense throng around the bar and even quite a few people on the balconies that overlooked the main floor. There was a stage at one end, next to which Morris and his crew had rigged up a line of nine open-topped cubicles, each with a number painted on the door. The area behind them was screened off with drapes, but there were peepholes in the doors and three big glory holes cut into the back wall of each, clearly visible from above.
‘The men will be getting a lot more privacy than you do,’ Pippa remarked, ‘and aren’t those cameras?’
Melody had joined us and answered the question.
‘Yes. There’s a video pickup in each cubicle, so the guy you’re sucking can watch, although you won’t be able to see him. We can put the best of the action up on the big screen too.’
She was pointing to the stage, which ha
d a huge screen at the back. I nodded, imagining a picture of myself sucking a man’s cock projected ten feet high for the amusement of hundreds of people. My nerves had been bad all day and I took a generous gulp of the glass of wine Pippa had bought me.
‘Are you dressing up?’ Melody asked. ‘Or going nude?’
‘School uniform.’
‘Suits you, and it’s bound to get the boys going. Be on stage in ten.’
She moved on, leaving me to my drink and my nerves. I was trying to tell myself that I’d sucked plenty of cocks in my time, but it had never been with such a big audience, while I was as worried about my deal with Gavin as I was about getting dirty with maybe a couple of dozen complete strangers. The way it worked, I had no choice at all who I sucked, and with the exception of one or two recognisable cocks I’d have no idea who it was anyway.
‘You’d better get changed,’ Pippa advised.
We made our way down to the ladies, where she helped as I slipped on black pumps, white knee socks, panties and bra, a loose blouse with a neat black ribbon at the collar and a red tartan miniskirt. I also put my hair up in a ponytail, as much in the hope that it wouldn’t get quite so badly plastered that way as in an effort to make me look like the real thing. By the time we came out, Melody was already on the stage, with several of my rivals. Annabelle was there, looking cool and confident despite being stark naked, and Harmony, also in the nude and with her full, dark curves glistening with oil. I recognised a petite blonde in a dress of red rubber with a zip down the front as Sophie Cherwell, whom I’d last seen at one of Morris’s smaller spanking parties. She’d been across Mr Protheroe’s lap, just as I had, and I remembered her as full of life and a lot of fun, so I went to stand next to her.
There were two girls I didn’t recognise, and we were quickly joined by three more, bringing the total to nine including myself. Sophie knew all but two and quickly introduced me, which left a slim girl with a riot of copper-coloured hair and big geeky glasses who barely looked old enough to be in the club, and one other, tall, elegant, with her hair cut in a neat brown bob and a face so angelic it was hard to imagine her sucking on a man’s cock at all. I heard Harmony address the redhead as Gemma, which meant the last girl had to be Eliska, Morris’s dark horse.
