 |
|
|
||
| Girls' Nightmare Out | Back to N | Back to main page |
Collected by Djian
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 |
Girls' Nightmare Out
Rogue Alan
11/0-9/02, revision 2/03
(tattoo/piercing; cheat; stranger; interracial; gang bang; exhibitionism; anal;
prostitution; bondage; lesbianism; mind control; rape)
Part 17
Jordan tailed the blonde the next day, parking across the street from her
school, until the morning stampede of parents eased, before driving slowly
around the building, in hopes of identifying her room, no use arousing some
hyper, vigilant parent. Fortunately the school had been built before there was
much concern about safety. One wall of her classroom was made up of windows,
making her easy to observe.
At the first recess period, he got out of the non-descript gray Crown Victoria,
pulled a painter's cap low on his brow, over dark sunglasses and a fake
mustache, and carried a load of cleaning supplies over to her windows. He set
about wiping years of accumulated grime from the frames, deftly applying tiny
receiver/transmitters to different places, on four separate panes. Satisfied
that they were not likely to arouse suspicion, he worked to the left, cleaning
the next room's windows as well, before retreating to his car. No one had
challenged him, but then, he hadn't tried to go inside, he knew schools in
America had become almost openly paranoid, after so many shootings, and the
ever present, though statistically tiny threat of a terrorist attack.
He removed his well worn work jacket and changed hats, then wandered through
the teachers' parking lot, bending down to tie his unlaced shoe, and using the
move to place a magnetic transmitter under the bumper of Melissa's car, a
second transmitter had already been left on the car outside of her home, which
her husband had taken, when he'd left for work. Jordan considered adding
another bug to the car, but reasoned that he could use the parabolic mike, if
he needed to hear her, as music tended to degrade the reception of externally
fixed units.
He found a gas station a few blocks away, glad that he didn't have to resort
to a bus bench, or phone booth, and set a dual-band slow, speed recorder atop
one of the foam ceiling tiles. Checking that it was receiving properly, he
returned to the women's neighborhood, pulling up at the other woman's home
first.
He'd used a specialized receiver the day before to record the signal that her
husband's remote had sent to the garage door opener. At the touch of a button
from a partially concealed position, down the street, he raised the garage
door. The double-wide bay was empty, but he waited. When no one appeared, and
the door didn't go down, he calmly pulled into the spacious garage, closing
the door behind him.
That lessened the threat of nosy neighbors, but put him at risk of direct
confrontation, if someone came home. Guessing that both of them worked outside
of the home, he chose the simplest way to get the equipment that he would need
into the house, with a minimum of exposure, and resolved to work fast, since
he hadn't had time to nail down their schedules. The last thing that he wanted,
was to be noticed anywhere near the house.
Before exiting the car, he donned latex gloves. He selected a few of the tools
lying on workbench in the garage, no use risking leaving his own, and retrieved
the brightly colored toolbox in the backseat of his car. First out of the box
was an automated lock pick but it proved unnecessary, as the door was unlocked.
An alarm began to chirp, but he had already noted the alarm company prominently
displayed in the front window, and after a peek at the maker of the specific
unit, he quickly entered the master code. He smiled in the resulting silence.
Most suburban alarms were easily circumvented. Even better, the alarm had an
'easy activate' feature, so that no would ever know the alarm had been shut
off.
Taking only a few moments to familiarize himself with the basic floor plan, he
quickly went to work. He used a series of single use foam molds, to copy the
key patterns for the locks. He installed tiny bugs in each of the phones, as
well as 'free standing' bugs tucked into a planter in the kitchen, and behind
the television in the master bedroom armoire. He spent a few minutes in a
limited search for information.
By the time that he left, some fifty minutes later, he knew not only Kathy's
full name, as well as her's and Fred's personal and employment information,
and had also the blonde woman's name, address and phone number. He also had
Polaroid proof, that Kathy's husband was sleeping around. It'd been carefully
hidden, but not so much so that his cursory search hadn't uncovered it, he
guessed that a suspicious wife would've found it more easily, and wondered if
that had led the housewife to cuckold her hubby so prodigiously.
Tabling such suppositions, he backed out of the garage as if he lived there,
and making sure that the door closed, drove around the corner, before pulling
to the curb, in order to test his equipment. The next hour was spent
'surveying' the blonde's home in a similar manner. Though in that case, he was
more confident that he wouldn't be interrupted, and took the time to add a
tiny video camera button in the bedroom, with a view into the bathroom as well.
The tiny fisheyed lens had remarkable depth and clarity, but would never be
noticed. He wasted no time, aware that a child, or either parent might come
home for lunch. It took just over an hour to finish in the second home.
Satisfied that everything was working, he drove past the law offices where
Kathy Dwyer worked, using binoculars to examine the building from a safe
distance. Mercifully, few of the windows were mirrored, but there was no sign
of the woman he'd seen in the church. He hadn't expected to see her, as
secretaries seldom enjoyed a room with a view.
Instead, Jordan pulled into the parking lot's 'delivery' space. He ducked into
the trunk, adding a fake goatee to his mustache, a jagged, vivid pink scar
tracing down from his right ear under his collar, and a different pair of
regular glasses. A gaudy earring replaced the stud that he traditionally wore,
completing his transformation. Capping his shaved head with a hat, that was
fringed with fake dreadlocks, and a matching jacket, with the name 'Norm'
stenciled over the pocket, he grabbed the vase of Amaryllis and the delicately
calligrapher card that he'd prepared earlier, and calmly went inside, asking
at the guard's station for directions to 'Ms. Kathy Dwyer'. The guard glanced
at the card without any real interest, but then he had little reason to worry.
He knew that he'd walked through a concealed metal detector, as he entered
the building.
The elevator rose two floors to the appropriate lawyers' offices, and
consciously moving differently than he did as 'himself', he shambled down the
hall, stopping to stare dumbly at the sign on the corner nearest Kathy's desk
until she noticed. Hurrying over to see if she could help, she paled when he
mumbled that he had flowers for Kathy Dwyer. When she asked who'd sent them,
he executed a carefully practiced shoulder shrug, before he checked the slip
of paper on the clipboard that he held in one hand.
"Dunno. it says 'name withheld' on the order form." he checked the sham paper
again. "They, uh, paid in cash. There's a note, though." The woman's hand
shook visibly she reached for the note.
"I need you to sign first, if you're Ms. Dwyer."
"Mrs." she sniffed, searching her desk for a pen. Jordan pulled his 'company
logo' pen out of his pocket, smiling when she turned back without having found
one.
It was the typical pseudo, nice 'dealer pen' that drug reps and other sales
agents provided, with an imaginary florist shop's name and address, but a real
dead drop phone number on the casing. And a working microphone inside.
"Here." he said. "Compliments of Midwest Floral."
She took it absently, scribbling illegibly where he indicated, then almost
tearing at the card rather than reaching for the vase.
"I can set it down for you." he mumbled, setting it out of the way on her
desk, and surreptitiously dropping a 'back, up' mike into the planter beside
the desk as he did so. The mike had an adhesive back, but he had seen them
fall off when stuck under a desks before.
He left, pretending not to notice how agitated the woman was. He'd simply
written 'Hope to see you again soon', on the card, assuming that she worked a
list of 'regulars' for Tom. He wondered if the reaction was fear or arousal,
finding the thought that she could like a John over her man disquieting, but
not impossible, given what he'd found and seen in her home.
Safely back in his vehicle, he pulled out of the lot, no use risking whatever
additional surveillance he hadn't seen, before pausing by the curb a block
away, to remove the disguise and check the reception on the mikes, both seemed
to be working fine. He heavily taped another slow speed recording receiver to
the bottom of a dumpster in a neighboring strip mall, not trusting a magnetic
base, for fear of it damaging the tape. Satisfied that it was hidden, and
would remain so, he considered making his next call to the hapless Deacon, but
changed his mind, no use worrying the man so much, that he sought another
escape.
Instead, he drove back toward the school, filling up at the gas station and
taking a moment in the bathroom to switch tapes. That would be the most
troublesome part of the surveillance, and he wished he had the toys the
Fed-backed sting operatives did. They could afford more flexible, powerful,
and expensive equipment, collecting all sources of output in one site digitally,
rather than trusting the time-limited, trouble prone recorders.
He smiled though, the Fed's transmitters were a guaranteed give-away, if you
had a 'bug detector'. Which he did, and which he suspected his adversary did
as well. He reasoned that even though his bugs were susceptible to such
searches, it was unlikely that Tom would think to check the women's homes.
There were definite advantages to indirect surveillance.
He eased past the school. The kids were out on the playground again, and he
was pleased when he found a clear view of the teacher's lounge. The room was
like the adjacent classrooms, but had portable cubicle walls partitioning a
kitchenette with a refrigerator and microwave in one corner, several mismatched
chairs, and a pair of threadbare couches in the middle of the room. At first,
he didn't see the blonde. Then after a moment, he realized that she was
outside, watching the children. He pulled away from the curb and continued
past the school, turning away from the playground, before he stopped again,
aiming the parabolic mike through the open passenger window at the woman, and
using a clamp, to keep it near the side view mirror, where it would not be
easily seen. Her head was tipped at an angle, and after just a second, it was
obvious why, she was on a cell phone. He quickly guessed to whom she was
talking.
"... I'm serious! I can't go on like this, he'll find out if I do... No, he'll
find out... So it doesn't matter what you... No, I don't think it would matter
if it was one or a dozen. If he finds out, he'll leave me... I'm not
threatening you... No, I didn't mean... No... You can't!.. I never said that...
No, I'll do the rest, I've counted fifty-two so far, and... What!?" the
children glanced at her, but she was oblivious. Shrugging at one another, they
went back to their games. She'd sagged visibly against the wall of the school.
"That's not... It's not fair! I've done at least fifty-two jobs for you, I...
No, that's every one of them... No! You never said that! I... but I... no, I...
but she... we didn't..."
After a long moment, she took a ragged breath, audible even at a distance. Her
voice sounded lost, when she spoke again, and she was barely whispering.
"No, don't send him that package. I'm not arguing with you... You're right, I
just hadn't thought about sharing anything... And I'll do what you say... yes
... Yes, I owe you." there was a pause, as she bit her lip. "But I can't keep
doing it here, he'll find out. When this started you said... I know... OK...
yes, I agree... I do... all right... I'm sorry about what I said... Yes, I'm
ready to work again... But!.. all right, I'll be there tomorrow."
She hung up, eyed the children that were swirling across the dirt and asphalt
momentarily, as if not really seeing them, then focused and determined the
location of the other teacher, before keying her cell phone. He smiled to
himself, if she was going to tell her friend what she'd learned, he'd learn
too, letting him reconstruct the conversation from the separate halves later.
His new approach was already paying off.
"Kathy Dwyer, please." the blonde tossed her hair angrily, and turned away
from her fellow recess monitor, to pull a decorative flask from her pocket,
tipping it slightly, but leaving it in place for several seconds, before
tucking it quickly back into her coat. "No, I'm sure she's somewhere, please
find her!" Her voice snapped, releasing some of the tension that she'd
obviously repressed, while talking to her pimp. Franks wondered how the man
managed that from a distance.
"Kat?" The relief in Melissa's voice was evident, even through the long
distance pick-up. "God, it's so good to hear your voice, you won't believe
what I just... You're kidding! From who?.. You think?.. Are you going to tell
Tom?.. What'll you say to Fred?.. Oh, I guess that'd work, I'll say that if he
asks, sure..." she paused, tangling a lock of blonde hair with her free hand.
"I called him... I know, but I couldn't wait... No, I used my new cell phone.
Didn't I tell you about it? I got it last weekend, after we... after we were
done... Yeah... But I paid cash, the phone was free, and I can recharge it
with more time anytime I want. In fact, if you want, we can add a second phone
to the account for you, and talking back and forth is free!.. OK... Yeah, I
talked to the bastard. I hope you're sitting down."
"I told him that I couldn't keep doing all these guys downtown, that I'd seen
some of them while I was out with my husband. He assured me that they wouldn't
say a thing, and when I argued that they already had, he asked if I meant that
Jeff had figured out I was a whore. So then I got mad and told him he hadn't,
and admitted that he isn't suspicious, yet... And then he got mad, threatening
to 'fine' me for wasting his time. I tried to explain that I needed to be more
careful, and he got irate, asking if I was threatening him, telling me he'd be
glad to send a package to Jeff to show him just what sort of a whore I really
was. And then,"
She paused, fighting for a breath. "I mentioned that I'd already done more
than fifty 'jobs' and he laughed, asking where I'd gotten that number from, and
telling me that I'd just finished my thirty-second with you this weekend... I
know, that's what I said. But we were counting the guys we 'share'. He says
that if two women are working, and there are ten men there, you get credit for
five... I know! That's what I said. He just laughed and told me that I could
complain to the better business bureau, if I wanted to be sure that Jeff would
find out everything... I know... It'll be like two or three years... Yeah, I
know... I Know! God, don't you think that I realized that? So I backed off, I
even agreed to work tomorrow, and right here again, in downtown. So you'll
probably get a call... Thursday or Friday, too, I'd bet, but he didn't say
that now... Yeah, OK, but not tonight, the kids'll be home, and if we're going
to be out twice later in the week... Yeah, and I'm sorry about the news... I
will... Love you too."
For a moment, the words threw him, and then he remembered again seeing the
two women together the day before, there was more to their relationship than a
shared joy of sex. Clicking the recorder off, he pulled away, confident that
it was time to call the Deacon, the man didn't know it yet, but his sins had
earned him another taste of the women in Tom's stable. Then he would be free...
unless Jordan needed him for something else.
Tuesday passed as a blur for both women. Each had addressed the amorous needs
of their husbands the night before, Kathy with the detachment that she'd
developed over the years of her marriage, while Melissa did so tipsy, so that
after Jeff had finished, and dropped off to sleep, she barely remembered the
session, and lay awake for some time wondering if she'd said or done anything
that he would ask about later.
Unbidden, her thoughts turned to the last time she'd cum with her husband. To
her horror, she couldn't remember, the only recent orgasm that she was sure
that she'd experienced, apart from the time with Kathy, was with Tom on
Saturday. Curling into a fetal position, she shuddered, wondering if they'd
already gone too far for anything to ever be the same ever again, and trying
to understand how or why her husband didn't, (or couldn't?), arouse her, when
her pimp could. Unconsciously fingering her belatedly excited cunt, she
slipped into a restless sleep.
She spent the following day trying to hide the frequent hits on her flask,
which to her irritation seemed to be empty sooner every day. Kathy, meanwhile,
fended off the unwanted advances of no fewer than four lecherous lawyers, and
legal assistants, a part of her laughing inside, and asking why she didn't
just let them 'entertain' her for a lunch hour. Most of the other girls had,
and were doing better because of it. It wasn't as if she was protecting her
honor. Even as she thought about what she might gain though, she knew that she
wouldn't do anything, as none of the men was Mike. And whenever she thought
about that, about him, her eyes wandered to the flowers, and hoped that he
had sent them. That, in turn, made her feel guilty, when she thought about the
way she'd urged Melissa not to argue with Tom, to do whatever he said. Somehow,
she'd developed a real need to have Michael's cock, and as a woman who'd prided
herself for years on not needing anything from any man, the change in attitude
would've frightened her, if she'd really been aware of it. Instead, it felt
almost natural, that the memory of Michael inside of her, kept her semi-aroused
throughout the day.
The women had agreed that it would be best to use separate excuses for their
'work' that night, as their husbands had begun to grumble about the time they
were spending together. Melissa called Jeff at the office, and claimed that
she needed to grade some papers and host a late parent-teacher conference, a
ruse to keep her husband from 'dropping in' on her.
Kathy told Fred she'd been called to stay late, as some of the partners were
preparing a big case. That met with the usual grunt, he'd be home tearing into
his students' latest papers, until precisely 9:30 PM, at which point he'd go
to sleep, never sure when, or if, Kathy got home.
Melissa picked Kathy up, leaving the brunette's car in the law office's garage.
They drove to the run-down apartment complex, neither giving it a thought to
the familiarity with which the guard, and some of the real tenants nodded at
them, as they headed into the elevator and to room 413 to get ready. Neither
knew what the job would be, or whether they'd be doing it alone or together,
or as part of a group, and they didn't really care. It was a chance to whittle
away at the daunting number that each had learned still remained to their
'debt'. They no longer needed to look at the notes taped to the mirrors,
reminding Tom's 'girls' that they weren't to overdo their make-up, weren't to
be too slutty in their dress, they were 'white whore housewives', after all.
Melissa unconsciously added some eye shadow, and reapplied her mascara, then
added the lipstick, which she never wore at work. Satisfied, she selected a
leather miniskirt, and a baby blue button down front top, as well as black
high heels, forgoing stockings or hose as usual. She also ignored the lacy
panties, which matched the demi-cup bra, that was partially visible through
the shirt.
Opening the drawer at her spot in the vanity, which occupied one wall of the
main room, she uncapped the Astroglide lubricant tube that she'd brought in
the weekend before, inserting the plastic tip between her labia, and squeezing
a generous portion of the glycerin jelly into her pussy. A second squirt lubed
her ass hole, after which she reached into her shirt, and applied Vaseline to
her nipples, a trick one of the 'long time' girls had shown her.
Trying to fight back a case of the shakes, as she considered that she'd one
day be considered a 'long time girl' by the newer ones, Melissa tore her eyes
away from Kathy's similar preparations, nearly dashing into the bathroom with
her purse. She emptied her twice refilled flask, before exiting, to lock the
purse in her cubby, unwilling to look at herself in the mirror, as she
struggled to maintain some semblance of control. She heard the apartment door
open, and Tom's low voice filled the room.
"Good evening, my ladies! I'm glad to see everyone here on time. Where's
Melissa?"
Biting her lip, she closed her cupboard door. Tom smiled broadly, possessively,
at her. "Ahh, there you are. I knew you wouldn't give me any trouble tonight.
Did I understand that you want to work alone?" Melissa bit her cheek, she'd
hoped to work with Kathy, or at least one of the other girls, but that would
mean 'sharing'. If she were going to get out of this any sooner, she'd have to
trust that Tom screened his customers. She nodded, and his smile widened.
"Great. I have a trio of Shriners, who insisted they wanted a 'housewife to
humble'. You'll fit the bill perfectly, I'm sure."
Melissa nodded, hating that she felt grateful Tom had supplied her to out of
towners. Maybe even white out of towners, so she wouldn't be so sore after
taking three on. She returned to the place at the mirror, where she'd gotten
ready, retrieving a handful of condoms from the drawer. Kathy was paired up
with a redhead that Melissa hadn't seen before, but who seemed used to what
was happening.
The other women were working as a tandem, and a trio, serving like numbers,
and another gal was working a single 'regular', as Tom called the locals who
were steady clients. Tom began passing out the envelopes with the room keys,
cab fare if it was necessary, customers' names, and occasionally a note about
what they wanted or expected. The women removed the money and keys, and read
through the other information, though none of the paper left the room. Melissa
felt a pang of uncertainty, when he didn't have an envelope for her.
He smiled broadly and said, "They don't want you to know their names." He dug
a key out of his pocket, handing it to her, "They're in the hotel down the
block so you can walk."
More humiliation, she realized. The key Kathy held was from the same hotel,
but Tom was apparently going to drive the others over. She would have to get
there like any other street walking whore.
"When you arrive, have the desk page 'Stan Straight', and wait at the end of
the bar nearest the desk. He'll pick you up and take you to the room."
She nodded, avoiding looking at Kathy, or the other women, as she tucked her
things into her 'party bag', and joined the group of dressed to kill women at
the door. There was another tenant on the elevator as they went down, and
while he blinked and smiled politely enough, Melissa could feel his eyes
wandering over the assembled flesh, knowing what they were going out to do.
She stopped to catch her breath, as the others headed for the garage or front
door, wishing that she'd brought more to drink. She reminded herself that she
was to wait at the bar, and that provided enough comfort, that she set out,
ignoring the looks and occasional remarks of those she passed on the way.
Jordan was sitting in the bar at the downtown Residence Inn, when he saw Kathy
enter with another woman, not the blonde, Melissa. They headed to the elevators
with an obvious sense of purpose, moving as if they'd done it many times
before. He let his eyes follow them openly, appreciatively, hoping someone
would notice. A moment later, another obvious call girl entered at the front,
and he guessed she was his pigeon's entertainment for the night. He had hoped,
when he told Chauncy to make an appointment, that more women would be working
at the same hotel. More specifically, that the women he'd identified would be
there to party with Chauncy.
He hadn't seen anyone twig to his 'I want that' look at the brunette though,
and had about decided that Melissa was 'involved' elsewhere, when she walked
in through the main revolving doors. It took a double take to realize that it
was her, the blonde hair was teased in a sluttish manner, and she wore much
heavier make-up, than he'd seen on her at church or school, but still less
than you'd usually see on a hooker. The clothes too, were too revealing to be
her usual attire.
He smiled, wondering how the school board would react to her 'after hours' job,
and again let an appreciative glance follow her, as she headed to the desk.
Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to his drink, downing fully
half of it at once, and then looking back. She was almost up to him, entering
the bar, where she took a seat three stools away. Taking a chance, he signaled
the bartender, telling him to 'fix the lady up'. The barkeep eyed him hard,
but shrugged and moved to ask what she wanted, jerking a thumb toward Franks.
The blonde looked startled, her eyes still nervous, as she looked toward him,
her mouth frowning prettily. She shook her head, and the barkeep returned.
"Sorry, buddy. Says she doesn't want anything from you."
Jordan snorted audibly. "Hell, give her a 7 and 7, then. If she drinks it,
great. If not, so what? But I think she could use some company tonight. I sure
could."
He'd spoken loudly enough that she could hear it, and he saw her back stiffen,
but she made no other response. Shaking his head, the barkeep mixed the drink
and set it in front of her. After a beat, she glanced at it, and a few moments
later picked it up and took a healthy swallow. Jordan leaned over towards her.
"Now does that earn me a name?"
She blinked, eyeing him with some anxiety. "And you are?"
"Jim Franks!" he enthused, holding out a hand that she ignored. "I just couldn't
leave a pretty lady like you alone in a place like this. It isn't right."
"I'm not alone," she replied. "I'm waiting for someone."
"Oh," he let his face fall, then brightened after a moment. "Well if that
someone doesn't show up, maybe you'd let me fill in."
Her eyes blazed, and for a moment, he thought that she might slap him. Instead,
she turned to the drink, emptying it without a pause. He motioned to the
barkeep, who quickly provided a second.
"I don't think so." she said after a minute.
"Well let me call your secretary and we'll hook up another day." he was
winging it, hoping that the man was watching from somewhere. "I'm here the
rest of the week, so you can always come back for a couple more of those." he
said, nodding at the glass, already half-empty in her hand.
At just that moment, an overweight, middle-aged man glanced into the room. His
eyes lingered on the blonde at the end of the bar, a smile playing at his lips.
He stepped forward with unaccustomed cockiness, and draped an arm around the
petite blonde.
"You rang for a Mr. Straight?"
The woman, who had leaned forward, as if to escape the embrace, sat up, and
her head swivelled to look at him. "You're Mr. Straight?"
"My friends and I." the man offering that half smile again. "Why don't you
come up to meet them?"
She nodded, draining the glass, before standing up to go with him. Jordan
watched in overt amazement, then sighed, and signaled the bartender for
another martini.
"Damn." he sighed. "That's too fine a piece of ass to waste on a Shriner." The
barkeep shrugged a non-committal response, moving down the bar to other patrons.
"I wish I could find me some of that." he murmured to himself, as he stood up
to leave, throwing a generous tip onto the bar. He didn't want to be too
obvious, though the guy hadn't looked like he could buy a date if the woman
saw him ahead of time.
"Well, I may be able to help with that." The voice was higher pitched than
he had expected, and when he turned, he found himself staring at a man who
didn't fit the physical description that he had of Tom.
"Really?" he managed. "You're not serious."
"Oh, I assure you that I am," the man smiled, reminding Jordan of a shark. "I
can hook you up with the most amazing women. Imagine balling a nympho so hot,
that she has to cheat on her husband to get enough."
"Right. But not that little hottie." Jordan countered.
"My man, you have GOT to let me surprise you." the man smiled. "I'm Mike.
Pleased to meet you?"
"No. it sounds like I'm gonna be pleased to have met you." Jordan smiled. "I'm
Jordan James."
If it hadn't been for the fact that she was beyond tipsy, Melissa would've
been scared. 'Mr. Straight' had been a perfect gentleman, until he'd closed
the door to the suite where she was supposed to 'entertain' her Johns. Almost
immediately, three other men, not three in total, as Tom had told her, slipped
out of the shadows, picking her up, and moving her bodily into the living room.
They didn't move through to the bedroom, but turned her onto her stomach,
facing backwards over a deep plush chair. Before she was really aware of what
was happening, they'd handcuffed her hands to the legs of the chair, leaving
her dressed, but exposed from the waist down, and open to their advances. She
managed to remind them they had to use the condoms that she'd brought, and
relaxed as she saw them tearing the packages open. No one bothered with any
foreplay. One minute later, they were stripping down and donning their
'raincoats'. In the next minute, they were taking turns spanking her, and
thrusting into her exposed ass or pussy. She struggled to find a rhythm, to go
with what they were doing, but as soon as she'd begin to accommodate whatever
organ was impaling her, the man using her body would stop, letting another one
try something else. The situation was maddening, and made more so by their
refusal to talk or answer her questions. She was grateful to the man who'd
bought her the drinks, if they weren't going to give her any pleasure, at
least the buzz she'd gotten was letting her go along for the ride. And the
ride seemed endless.
For awhile she tried to count, but quickly lost any coherent idea as to who it
was moving behind her, or moving inside of her. She expected them to come
around and have her suck them off, but they didn't, simply impaling her
increasingly aching crotch with maddeningly incomplete strokes. She asked
herself if Tom had somehow arranged for her to be punished. She tried to see
her watch, unsure of how long they'd been using her, but couldn't turn her
wrist sufficiently.
She tried to tune out, and managed for awhile, before a new sound intruded,
they had some sports show on the television, on the other side of the room,
and for a time, no one was using her, as everyone watched whatever was on. She
then endured an odd intermittent fucking, as one or another passed her on
their way to the bathroom or the kitchen, seeming to take her on a whim. She
was soon trembling with embarrassment, having realized that she was being
treated no differently than the furniture. But she also refused to let them
see how humiliated that she felt. She stopped trying to communicate with them,
and said nothing. If the Shriners chose not to ball her as hard and as fast
and long as they could, so be it. After three hours, Tom would retrieve her
whether they were done or not. Which meant that when they did resume screwing
her in earnest, a short time later, she'd nearly convinced herself that she
wouldn't be so totally degraded, as to be used for their ultimate sexual
release.
As each man thrust into her in turn, until they'd all filled their condoms,
as tears rolled down her face. And while their laughter at that was all the
more humiliating, she managed not to speak. It was only when the man who'd
picked her up, began to empty his spent condom into her hair, that she shouted
at them. Or tried to, as the moment that she opened her mouth, someone clapped
a gag into her mouth. Totally broken, she lay half upside down in the chair,
as they laughed at their 'superiority' and smeared their jism into her hair
and skin, asking if she understood her position in the world. She was there to
be used, however and whenever they, or any other man, wanted.
Someone laughed that if she was so upset she could pretty herself up in the
bathroom, but warned her that they'd just have to 'enjoy themselves' with her
again when she was done. Melissa vowed at that moment she wasn't about to
strip and shower in the suite, whenever they chose to finally release her. No
matter how bad she looked, she didn't want to spend anymore time with these
women hating ass holes, than Tom demanded. Even though it would mean more
humiliation on the walk back to the apartment to clean up, it was preferable
to submitting to them any further. She shuddered at the knowledge that it
would be obvious to anyone who saw her, what she was.
At the same time, Kathy was trying to move the right way, and say the right
things, as the John that she'd met grunted and thrust over her. Better
equipped than she'd expected, given his gross obesity, she'd nevertheless been
unable to get aroused enough to get off, and his stamina had begun to wear at
the lubricant lining her sex. She grimaced, as his cock head bluntly hammered
her cervix again, she was sure that it was bruised, and wanted him to stop,
but knew that wasn't an option.
For a time, she'd lost herself, imaging that it was Michael thrusting into her,
and doing that, she'd managed to get excited enough for her partner to lose
one load. But he also managed to stay hard, and she was beginning to wonder if
he'd ever fire again. She envied the redhead, who'd managed to score an oral
climax and was already finished getting the other guy off a second time,
leaving her time to primp and clean up, while Kathy tried to 'finish the job'.
She manufactured a groan, pumping her hips up to meet the man's thrusts, and
closing her eyes, fervently wishing that it were Michael filling her cunt. She
felt a twinge at that, and struggled not to lose it, managing a spark of
arousal, that in turn seemed to flow into the guy banging her. He stiffened,
grunting more loudly for a moment, and then pulling out a moment later. With
an urgency borne of experience, Kathy caught the base of his shaft, holding
the condom in place, until he was out of her, then checking to be sure that it
hadn't torn. She relaxed then, glad that it looked like neither of their
'customers' would be able to go again, and wondering if she'd see Michael when
they got back.
Two floors above, Melissa had been unceremoniously rolled onto the carpet,
where one after another of her 'customers' was taking a second more intimate
turn fucking into her, until they came. Each one of them straddled her, making
her apply the condom with her mouth, before thrusting into her hard and fast
until they were done. No attempt was made to get her excited, she was merely a
living fuck doll. She responded by lying beneath them unmoving, anxious for it
to be over with, fighting not to grimace at the occasional tweak of a cock
sliding against the ring in her barely lubricated labia. When the gag was
removed, she forced herself to remain silent, but her mouth was free for just
a moment, before the first of the men to take her for a second time, slapped
his bare cock against her mouth, shouting.
"Clean me up, whore. You made this mess!"
She turned her head, not wanting to accept the uncovered shaft, but at a sharp
pain as someone tweaked the ring in her nipple, her mouth yawned wide, and
then he was inside of her mouth. Soft and wet, cum still leaking from the tip,
the taste of latex still present on his skin. She managed not to gag, praying
it would end then. It did, almost.
When they'd all finished using her, they stood over her, upending the condoms
that they'd saved. Her dress, which had been pushed up to her waist, and her
bare chest and abdomen were quickly smeared with their mingled jism. Then they
trooped over to the couch in front of the television, she'd been nothing but
an evening's 'entertainment'.
Wiping feebly at the cum staining her skirt, Melissa buttoned her shirt,
dismayed to find several buttons were gone. The cum in her hair was drying,
leaving matted tangles that she didn't want to see. Scooping up the tiny purse
and her heels, she paused, realizing they'd left the mini-bar open. Without a
glance over her shoulder she reached in, blindly filling one hand with the
small bottles, before she stepped shakily from the suite. She was desperately
glad that there was no one in the hall. Her crotch was sore from the relentless
screwing, and she winced at the thought that Tom might want her back in the
apartment, in less than twenty-four hours. She eyed the elevator, then
remembered the spacious, well-lit foyer in the hotel's lobby. She turned
instead to the stairwell, at the opposite end of the hall, pausing at the
window to look out.
'Her' apartment was at the opposite end. Cursing her continued bad luck, she
almost ran back to the other end of the 'wing' of rooms, entering that
stairwell and descending past four or five turns blindly, before she sat down
on the bare concrete steps, glad for the cool air that reached her parted
thighs, as she opened the first of the bottles in her hand. Gin, but she
swallowed it like water, pausing only long enough to open the second bottle,
tequila.
She sat for a moment, savoring the warmth in her belly, the first pleasant
thing that she'd felt since they'd thrown her over the chair, like a side of
beef. She stood up again on shaking legs, suddenly aware that she needed to
pee. She giggled at the thought she could leave a trail on the steps without
pausing and no one would know. But she didn't.
Gripping the handrail for support, she slowly went down the steps to the main
level, then continued to the basement garage entrance another level down.
Opening the door, she was thankful for the darkness, the opposite of how she'd
normally feel, even in much safer areas of the city.
Seeing no one, she stepped out, letting the door close quietly behind her. It
clicked loudly, and she tested it, finding it locked. Staying along the white
painted cinder block wall, Melissa moved around the fronts of cars, heading
for a door at the corner of the street, where she'd passed what seemed like
hours before. She reached the door unchallenged, and throwing her head back,
she opened the door, hoping the darker side of the street, away from the
overhead lights on the far side, would hide her grotesque appearance. She'd
stepped fully into the night air when she realized someone was beside the door.
She turned, a scream in her throat. But it was Tom.
"You're not tryin' to sneak out are you?"
"I..." Melissa bit back the anger that she knew could get her into more trouble,
and tilted her head down, hoping he didn't notice the booze on her breath. She
shook her head vigorously.
"I'm not. They'd finished. They just untied me."
She didn't bother to see how he reacted to that. "I'm a mess. They weren't
interested in any pleasure, just humiliating me."
Tom nodded knowingly, confirming what Melissa had suspected, it was a
punishment of sorts. "and it was four men. Not three." His eyebrows rose at
that, and Melissa felt a strange delight, knowing that he was angry at someone
else over their treatment of her.
"You're sure?" his voice had dropped, becoming menacing.
"I'm a whore, I'm not stupid," she answered, then reeled off the four names
she'd heard. He reached out, a big hand closing gently on her shoulder.
"And am I right that you've learned your lesson?" She nodded, biting her lip.
"What's that?"
"I learned my lesson," she whispered.
"What lesson?" Melissa bit back her anger.
"That you're the one who says who does what, to who, when, and where. Or
doesn't. That I don't threaten you. That I don't call you a liar."
He nodded. "Pretty good learning. only took one harsh trick. Just remember
that the next time you want to give me any lip."
Melissa nodded, letting him lead her back to the apartment complex.
"I thought you might try to slip back without being seen in there." she could
see him smile, even in the near total darkness. "It's good that you have a
sense of pride, even in doing this kind work. But be careful that you don't
get in trouble because of that. Imagine if that wasn't me back there." she
nodded meekly. "Then let's get you back home and cleaned up before the other
girls see this mess."
Without another word, he led her to the back of the apartment building,
producing a key that let them into the locked steel, reinforced back door.
Instead of heading upstairs though, Tom opened a second similarly braced door
just inside, and guided her down a flight of narrow steps into total blackness.
When he flipped a switch, that she hadn't seen in passing at the bottom, the
sudden light made her cry out, and shield her eyes.
"This here's where I started having the girls get ready. Now it's mostly
storage." She noticed that there were several empty boxes, and rolls of packing
tape atop others that were sealed shut.
"Are we moving?" she asked without thinking.
Tom chuckled. "Naw, I just got to get some of this to a safer place. Now go
around the corner. There's a shower there. Who knows, maybe I'll join you in a
minute. Melissa nodded, not trusting herself to look in his eyes, afraid that
he might do as he'd said, and more afraid that despite being sore, the thought
had begun to arouse some part of her.
She hurried into the bathroom, relieved to find a half empty bottle of the
blue Listerine. Remembering the cum she'd swallowed, and anxious to mask the
booze, she took a healthy swallow, choking loudly before gargling with a
second large mouthful. She turned on the shower, to see Tom standing in the
doorway. His eyes were unabashedly at her waist.
"Damn." he shook his head.
"They messed you up pretty good for white boys." She nodded, wondering if he'd
have mercy and not ball her. "But it looks like they left your ass pretty much
alone."
She considered that was true, a couple of them had plowed her bottom early on,
but they'd pretty much stuck to trying to ruin her pussy, so that she wouldn't
experiencing pleasure anytime soon after that. She bit her lip, unsure as to
whether she could comfortably take her pimp in her ass, without some vaginal
stimulation first. The thought of some mutually pleasurable sex was undeniably
exciting, though. Tom moved into the small bathroom, but turned at the vanity,
opening a drawer.
"Here, be sure to put some of this on your box. It's got Aloe and DMSO. That's
the stuff they use on horses, that athletes aren't supposed to use, but it
works. And since you're a sexual athlete, I guess. You'll be ready to ride in
no time at all, I promise."
She nodded, taking the tube that he'd offered her.
He smiled broadly and said, "Tell you what. My new partner will be bringing
the others back, so lets get into the shower, and I'll help you put it on."
Melissa nodded again, aware of the growing buzz in her clit, and wishing that
she could blame the cold air for her suddenly rigid nipples. By the time that
Tom was naked, she knew that she was visibly excited, and had gently tweaked
her swollen bud several times, finding her 'customers' hadn't been sufficiently
thorough, to truly ruin her.
She grasped Tom's thick bicep and stepped back into the shower, bringing him
along with her. His hands caressed her flesh, which tingled at his touch, and
the spray of steaming water. After a moment, he paused to help her clean her
hair and body, ridding the last vestiges of the other men's cum from her skin.
Then he bent his head down, lifting first one, and then her other breast to
his lips, kissing and sucking on her nipples, until she was moaning constantly,
rubbing her sore pussy against his muscular thigh. His fingers knowingly
worked her throbbing clit, until she was on the edge of an orgasm, and then he
flexed his knees. She didn't hesitate, she had to feel him inside of her.
Reaching down, she held his swollen rigid cock in one hand, while spreading
the deep pink lips of her sex, bringing him up against her, and into her. He
held perfectly still, balancing against the side of the stall, and supporting
her weight, as she lowered herself onto his wonderful cock. But while it felt
as incredible as the memories that she tried to repress had insisted he was,
there was also pain, and when she winced, Tom quickly lifted her off of his
tool.
"Shhh." he soothed. "It's OK. There'll be time for that later. You'll be fine."
Turning her away from the hot spray, he opened the bottle, working the oily
lotion into her sex. It hurt, but was quickly followed by a penetrating warmth,
and Melissa didn't complain. There was a seat in the stall, that he lowered
her onto, before standing before her. The message was clear. Leaning forward,
she welcomed his cock into her throat, reveling in the pleasure that gave her,
compared to what had happened earlier in the evening. It was proof enough that
she wasn't just meat. Her head bobbed with increasing speed, as she sucked at
him strongly, wanting to taste him again.
He stopped her though, smiling down at the hurt in her eyes as she looked up.
"Oh no. I know you want it, but tonight I want that delicious ass."
Melissa smiled in response, some part of her was ignoring the reason and logic,
as if he never said such things to the other women. She rose and turned,
bending at the waist, bracing her arms against the fixed seat. His hands
caressed her waist, one held her in place, as the other opened a bottle. She
relaxed further, glad that he was taking time for more lubricant, despite her
ample experience by then, not to mention her continued arousal.
As he worked a thumb into her ass, the same warmth bloomed, and she guessed
that he had used the same lotion. While that was sinking into her mind, his
big cock pushed slightly into her ass. She bit her lip at the momentary pain,
but then it was past, and the sensation of his shaft filling her totally, was
nearly enough to get her off.
She reached down, tweaking her clit a single time, in order to climax, as he
began to thrust in and out of her butt. She'd done her oral work well, or Tom
wasn't trying to prolong it, in less than a minute, he'd spumed, pumping a
load into her medicated ass. When he pulled out, she quickly turned, and used
her hands, hair, and mouth to clean his cock.
He stepped out of the shower, nodding his satisfaction with her behavior. He
knew that Michael was right about several things, even if he did have
reservations about the drugs. Chief among the rules that he had always
followed, was to show a girl who'd done bad, but learned her lesson that he
could be a lover, as well as the punishing father.
And while there were always women that he wished that he could bring along,
when relocating, Melissa was quickly proving herself to be one of the rare,
truly exceptional girls. The Johns raved about her, the other girls had no
complaints about her, and while he wouldn't admit it to her, the fire she'd
shown, a drive that he knew that she still had to suppress, was attractive.
He hoped that Michael wouldn't respond to her acting out, by turning her into
a sex fiend, as he had her friend. While the brunette had become more willing
to do the job, whatever it entailed, Tom thought that something was still
missing, and he guessed that her drug, the need to be with Michael, was
actually interfering with her feeling any pleasure on the job, and wondered
how it was affecting her home life.
Making a mental note to warn his successor, about such potential problems in
situations where the wife had a 'happy' marriage, he remembered the other
thing he needed to tell his little whore housewife. Michael had called with a
'special' and he thought this might be just the trick for Melissa's situation.
"You gonna be OK now?" he asked.
She nodded, stopping the water and toweling off, not caring that he was
watching her. He liked seeing that unconscious change in her.
"Good. Then I'm gonna need you tomorrow, too."
She opened her mouth as if to argue, but shrugged instead.
"I know, that's two times here, when you've said that you're afraid of the
risk of seeing these 'locals' in your other life. I understand that. But this
trick's special. He saw you saunter in tonight. Maybe you remember him. He
bought you a drink, I'm told." he paused, and she nodded, not meeting his eyes.
"There you go. Anyway, he's here in the hotel for a week while his place is
being renovated. So he's a potential regular for you, which would knock your
debt down without you having to put out to every Tom, Dick, and Harry that
comes to me for a girl. I mean, you'd still do some other guys, but if he
wants you two or three times a week..." Melissa nodded her understanding. "I
was going to have you work some more Shriners, classier guys, who'd want to
take you to dinner first, believe it or not, but I think this will be the best
bet for you. Flying you out of town would mean overnight stays, which would be
a risk, given your marriage, and would be more expensive, so you'd have to
work that off, too."
"I'll still probably fly you and the others to Vegas or New York City or New
Orleans, I'll need you for that sort of thing two or three times a year, call
it a 'long weekend'. But those are special occasions, traveling is otherwise
a hassle. And during the summer, there'll be some 'day trips', but that's you
driving to and from a job, nothing too far away. So let's see if we can't find
you a guy who loves banging another man's wife, and wants to keep doing you.
That'll cut down on the 'quickie' work. Understand?" Melissa nodded, and he
reached out, caressing her cheek. "That's my girl. But remember our talk
tonight, and show him an especially good time tomorrow."
"Does he have a name?" Tom smiled at the hint of the fire that he associated
with the petite blonde returning.
"Sure does. Told Michael that he's James Franks. Now, Mike's going to check
him out, and make sure that he's legit. But Mikey said he got good vibes, and
the name didn't ring up any hits, when I ran it through the CIC computers
a while ago, so I'm guessing you're gonna be balling 'Daddy Warbucks' tomorrow
night, Little Orphan Annie. Now get dressed and get upstairs with the other
girls. Don't want your lover waiting for you."
Melissa blushed, surprised that Tom knew she and Kathy were more than friends.
And at the same time not surprised, he always seemed to know everything. She
balled the stained skirt in one hand after donning the sweats that were
hanging in the closet, and checking that there was no longer any cum leaking
out of her well plumbed ass. She grabbed the tube of medicated lotion that he
had provided, and then headed up the rickety stairs, closing the door and
hurrying into the lighted hallway twenty feet away, as she walked over to the
elevators.
Kathy was talking to the redhead when Melissa entered. Two of the other girls
were still there as well. Melissa took the empty stool beside her friend,
sitting down heavily, and crossing her arms to lay her head on the counter.
"Not too bad?" Kathy asked, eyeing her friend for a moment.
"Oh the job was horrible. But Tom brought me back. He..." she giggled. "He
made it all right."
Kathy just blinked at her, then reached for her purse. "Glad you had such a
fun time." she snapped.
Melissa sat up sharply, biting back the first response that came to mind, she
had a sudden image of the way her friend had reacted to Michael in Gate's.
Unwilling to let even a lover make such snide comments though, she used that
memory to blunt Kathy's obvious anger.
"Michael wasn't around tonight."
Kathy shook her head. Melissa started to speak, then shook her head, there
were still other girls around, and there was no reason to get herself into any
trouble again. She knew that Kathy could tell that she was mad though. She
held up a finger, shucked the sweats she'd borrowed, adding them to the
laundry pile, along with the skirt and blouse, before retrieving her own
belongings. She didn't bother with another shower, quickly pulling her clothes
on and motioning toward the taller brunette. "C'mon."
Once in her car, she could barely contain herself, but again she waited,
concentrating on the minimal traffic, until they were on the highway, headed
safely for home. Somewhere along the way, the anger that she'd felt at her
friend's attitude evaporated, as it usually did, if she was simply patient.
But she hesitated to mention the good news that she'd received.
"What is it?" Kathy finally asked. "You've been grinning like you just saw
Santa Claus since before we left."
"That's 'cause I got some good news!" Melissa paused, surprised that she could
still tease about their 'work'. She let herself smile, sure that Kathy would
like what she was about to tell her. "Lover, I have the answer to your every
need, so long as we're 'working girls'."
"You're drunk!" Kathy scolded.
"Actually, I'm not, at least not right now." Melissa stopped herself from
saying anything more, but wondered how much of what she'd just said was a joke,
and how much of it was an admission. "Your lover boy, is Tom's new partner."
"No he isn't. He just works at the clinic."
Melissa shook her head, reaching over to shake her friend's arm. "Would you
stop pouting and listen to me? Who was I with tonight?"
"How should I know? Some Shriners."
"Yeah, the Shriners from Hell. I mean after that. Who was I with after that?"
"... Tom."
"Right. But when I tell you something that big you doubt me?"
"You're saying Tom told you that?"
"Uh, huh. In fact, he also told that me your big kahuna may've found me a
regular. So that I don't have to keep bumping into guys who've been inside of
me."
"So that means..."
"That means that if you tell him how you feel, hell, if you just let him know
you'll service him whenever he wants, I figured that he'd be yours for as long
as you can stand it."
Melissa's hand was still on her friend's arm, and she felt the shiver that ran
through Kathy's body. "Are you all right?"
Kathy nodded, wondering how to tell Mel that she'd spent the entire second
round, the men hadn't been as spent as she'd thought, when they'd seen her
beginning to play with herself, imagining that she was with Michael. And that
it'd helped make ho-hum sex almost orgasmic sex. She shook her head, aware
that things were becoming more and more complicated.
"What a pair we make, eh?"
"You know it. I wonder if my high school guidance counselor ever thought I'd
end up a prostitute!"
"Naw, if he had, he'd have tried to ball you in his office."
"He did. Try, that is!"
Both women laughed, as there wasn't really a choice, as it was laugh or cry.
A few minutes later, Melissa dropped Kathy off at the law office, before
turning for home. Whatever residual pleasure that she'd felt after being with
Tom had become sufficient guilt, so that by the time that she pulled into her
garage, she paused to fix herself a coffee mug sized shot, before she tiptoed
into bed, stopping in the bathroom long enough to apply a second dose of the
lotion, and to remind herself that no matter how uncomfortable sex might be
the next day, that she had to be more than good for her trick the next night.