Gillian Depraved	Back to T	Back to main page

Collected by Djian
update dec 27 - 2011

http://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=1323893&page=submissions

FM+/f, Humil, Reluc, Bdsm, exhib, strip

Gillian Depraved
by Lowbobby©

Gillian
- beautiful young wife of Robert, blamed for theft in jewellers and sexually degraded by the jeweller.

Lucy
- Gillian's gorgeous & sexy old school friend, who got Lucy into trouble by stealing a watch from the jeweller and asking her to mind it.

The Jeweller
-Sexually experienced owner of jewellery store. He exploits and demeans Gillian sexually because she seemed guilty of a theft from him.

Robert
- Gillian's husband, wants to make Gillian pregnant

Mrs Simpson
- new character, the priest's secretary.

Story setting - London, England

Gillian went up to shower and dress. Her old school friend, Lucy, was arriving at 10. Gill thought about how different they were. Lucy took risks. She flirted outrageously, and brought energy and surprise wherever she went. She had been the first in their class to lose her virginity. Gill was looking forward to seeing her. It was over three years since Lucy gone to uni.

Gill dropped her dressing gown on the bedroom floor and walked naked to the shower. She enjoyed these moments of privacy after her husband had gone to work. She turned the water on full and waited until it steamed before stepping under it.

She and Lucy were unlikely friends, Gill remembered, as the water sluiced between her breasts. Teachers had remarked on the friendship and warned her to be careful. She had been the good one, well behaved and respectful. She was form captain. She was better looking than Lucy, according to most of the girls in their class. She was taller. She remembered proudly how her dance teacher called her "statuesque". She turned in the shower and felt the pleasure of the water on her back and buttocks.

And she was more athletic than Lucy - she won the 200 metres freestyle in the final year swimming. She was runner up in the girls' tennis final. But she couldn't let herself go like Lucy did, she knew. She was restrained, cautious in her relationships and cautious with sex.

She lingered in the shower and sponged herself down with the perfumed French soap she kept for special occasions. But life was good, she thought. Her husband, Robert, was a warm and considerate lover. They enjoyed each other. His business was doing well. She had fallen in love quickly and wanted to marry and have children, even though she was a straight A student with great career options.

She soaped her pussy and realised she was getting moist. She stopped, rinsed herself off and stepped from the shower. She admired her body in the long bedroom mirror. At 21, she was in her prime. Robert worshipped her. He loved her full breasts with their big sensitive nipples. She cupped them to show the cleavage and then turned to look at her bum. It was firm, tanned from nude sunbathing in the secluded garden. She felt secretly pleased that she had not yet become pregnant, and that her body was still so trim, even though they had been trying for a child for a while now. She knew that Robert was beginning to worry, because he had mentioned it to the local priest, but she felt confident that she would fall pregnant when she was ready.

She sifted through her clothes. It was the wardrobe of a respectable businessman's wife, elegant and sophisticated. But she wanted to show Lucy she could be more exciting than the conservative dresses and suits ranged in front of her.

She chose a white cotton wrap-over dress she had bought on impulse and never worn. It was too provocative. It clung closely to her curves, it was partially see-through and the neckline was low. But it would show Lucy that she could show herself off, too. She chose white lace-trimmed panties and decided against a bra. Her breasts were quite full but they were firm. It would be adventurous to go without a brassiere. She felt the thrill of it, and thought that Lucy must often feel this way. She chose high heeled white sandals to finish and admired the final effect in the mirror.

The door chimes startled her out of her reverie. Lucy had grown up. She was tanned and fit, and very beautiful. There was a dangerous sparkle in her eyes. Her summer dress was elegant and sexy, and her chestnut hair was cut in a simple bob that made her look business-like and professional. She wore pearls! So refined, Gill thought. Instead of becoming more outrageous, she had developed into a sophisticated woman.

Lucy wanted to visit an art exhibition in one of the small galleries, and she suggested they could have lunch in one of the local restaurants afterwards, but first she wanted to look at some jewellery in the small collectors shops off Oxford Street.

Eyes followed them everywhere, and it reminded Gill of when they were friends at school, with younger boys yearning after them. Gill found men staring at her breasts, naked under the thin cotton, and her nipples were erect for much of the journey on the underground. The low cut top left much of her breasts exposed, especially from a side view. Several men looked obviously, some leered, and others sneaked glances. It was not the kind of attention she was used to, and she found herself feeling excited and often blushing.

The arcade was packed with small independent shops selling jewellery and watches. Lucy tugged at Gill's arm and led her into a shop with vintage watches on display. She asked the shop owner if she could try on a Cartier displayed in the window. He was a short, overweight man in his 50's. He was very polite and nothing was too much trouble for him. Lucy leaned forward to reveal her cleavage, and touched his thick, hairy arm when he in turn complemented her. She tried on several watches and soon they were all spread out on the counter. Lucy tried one, then another, comparing them in the mirror and asking Gill and the owner for his opinion.

Gill was astonished by what happened next. She saw Lucy's hand move very quickly to drop one of the watches into the deep side pocket of her dress. Lucy was laughing and leaning in close to the man, so her movement was hidden from his view. Then she wrapped up quickly. She had decided, she said. She would go to the bank to withdraw cash for a larger discount, and would be back quickly. She tugged Gill's arm again.

"Let's go," she urged, making out that her hurry was excitement to get money to buy the watch. She walked fast in a straight line towards the exit of the arcade and Gill was striding to keep pace. She was just about to reach the street when a tall man in a suit, touching an earpiece, stepped in front of them. Lucy turned.

"We'll go the other way," she said. She turned a corner and then handed Gill the watch. Hold this for me. Gill started to object.

"I don't want to be..."

"Just do it," she commanded, "you'll be fine."

She walked ahead so quickly that Gill had no choice but to put the watch in her bag or leave it there on the paving. She turned the corner to see Lucy being held firmly by the security guard, now speaking into his mouthpiece.

"If you would come this way ladies," He was very polite, and he waited for Gill. He was not going to let her go.

They were led quickly back to the shop, and through to a back office. The shop owner wore a very different expression now. There was anger in his eyes, no trace of a smile on his face, no salesman's charm. Gill could see a film of sweat on his dark, oily skin. The guard stood behind them.

"Would you return the watch please?" He looked at both of them, not knowing who held it. There was an uncomfortable silence. "If you wish, I'll call the police now", he said. Gill reached into her bag and put the Rolex on the leather topped desk. Her heart was pounding but she was sure that Lucy was going to step forward and take responsibility.

"Could I see some identification please?"

Lucy said nothing. And out of loyalty, Gill did not want to betray her and say that she herself had done nothing.

"There has obviously been an awful mistake," said Gill. "We can pay for it immediately, if that would be acceptable to you."

"Please let me see identification?" The man just ignored her.

The guard said, "Will do," on the phone behind her and escorted Lucy from the room.

"I will call the police if you do not cooperate. We take a very dim view of thieves here. We prosecute. Many of us struggle to survive in the current climate. We do not like thieves. Please do not make me ask for identification again."

Gill felt a sense of dread as she produced her credit card and driving licence.

"Take a seat," he said. She looked around the cramped space. He had tried to create the impression of a traditional office, with the leather topped desk, leather chairs. A vintage leather armchair in the corner. There were prints of oil paintings on the walls. She recognised a Stubbs horse, Monet's Water Lilies, a print of Mt St Victoire by Cezanne. There was no window.

He was going bald, she noticed, while he bent forward copying details from her cards. Thin black hair was combed over from a side parting and stuck down on his shiny scalp. His cheeks were fatty and his lips thick and red. She noticed his thick fingers writing busily, the black hairs on his knuckles and the backs of his hands. She wanted just to pay for the watch and go.

"I'm so terribly sorry. It really is a mistake. Is there any way I can make this right?" she said. Then she noticed the leer in his expression when he looked up. She realised the implication of what she had said, and the impression her dress must make. He must think she was like Lucy. His eyes roamed lecherously over her body, stopping on her breasts.

His look seemed to bore through the thin material of the dress. She could feel her nipples swelling and she willed them to stop. He noticed them jutting through the thin cotton, and looked her in the eyes, signalling that he could see her body was excited. His eyes moved up and down her long bare legs. She shifted in her seat and tried to pull the dress down further to cover her thighs. She felt trapped in the small office. The air was musty and warm and damp and she felt cut off from the outside world. She shuffled uncomfortably.

But she did not object. She knew that if it went to court and she was cleared, the damage would be done. Her reputation would be destroyed and it would affect her husband's reputation and his business. He would be so ashamed of her. She did not want the police being called. She let the jeweller leer at her.

"So, what are you prepared to do?" He leaned back in the reclining chair.

Gillian bit her lip. It was obvious what he meant, but she didn't know how to answer. She could hardly believe what was happening, let alone say anything suggestive. It was against her nature to make innuendos or flirt so obviously. Even with her husband, she didn't speak much or "talk dirty". She had always wanted their sex to be loving.

He got up out of his chair and walked towards her on his short legs. She could feel herself trembling. His waistcoat was buttoned and hid the huge belly behind the grey pinstripe. She could feel his presence as he moved behind her and she heard the key turn in the lock of the door. And then she felt his hands on her shoulders. They moved down over her shoulders pushing inside the white cotton dress. She noticed the black hair on his skin. She could smell his cologne.

The thick fingers reached down around her breasts and freed them from the dress. Her full breasts and swollen nipples were pulled out and put on view for him. Her body became excited and she could feel the nipples pulsing, aching for a touch like they did when her husband caressed her.

She felt his fingers reach up over the swollen nipples and squeeze them lightly and she couldn't hold back the rush of breath that escaped. Her pussy was tingling and she knew she was getting wet. She wanted to cry. She wished her breasts were not so sensitive. She wanted to whole torment to stop, and she wished she had never agreed to meet Lucy. The man's hands cupped and squeezed her breasts. Again she breathed heavily with the pleasure. He rubbed his palms gently over the nipples, then squeezed the breasts again. She was surprised by his skill. Soon her lips were parted, her eyes closed and she was panting.

He was going to make her suffer, he decided. He saw a spoiled, rich girl from the suburbs, who had never had to work. She had come to steal from him for fun. He thought of his ex-wife and the children he worked to support, the struggle to borrow money to set up the shop. And then when it was finally a success, the divorce and the loss of everything.

He went back to sit in his chair, He sat there looking at her with her tits out, her face flushed, her breathing rapid. Not so proud now, he thought. He ordered her to leave her breasts exposed when she moved to cover them up. He enjoyed the power he had over her. He let his eyes rest on the big swollen nipples. He could see her breasts heaving as her breath fluctuated. It became short with excitement and distress, then deeper as she attempted control it.

"Open you legs, and pull the dress up." He watched as she obeyed. She pulled up the hem to show the sheer panties she had chosen that morning, and moved her legs apart. Her lovely pussy was revealed. It bulged up under the fine white cotton and filled out the panties. The sheer material hardly concealed it and he could clearly see her swollen pussy lips. There was a damp patch on the material between her legs. He grinned.

"Lean back. Open them wide. Push the material into your pussy. I want to see it get wet with your pussy juice."

No-one had ever spoken to her like that. She was burning now. Her breath becoming shorter. When her hand cupped her pussy, she could feel how wet it was and her cheeks burned with shame. She pulled be material up against her pussy and she could not help grinding her thighs together because the sensations were so strong.

"That's right," he sneered, "enjoy it." He watched as she applied pressure with her cupped hand. She closed her eyes. She could not look at him. "Now take your hand away. I want to see them really wet with your pussy juice."

She felt the redness in her face, her moistness on her fingers. She could smell herself. She looked to the side. She did not want to be seen.

"You like this, don't you?"

She said nothing. She turned to look at him and her eyes pleaded with him to stop.

"Come over here and stand in front of me," he commanded.

It was obvious that he wanted her breasts exposed, so she walked over to him with them hanging out. She felt blatant and lascivious. The fold-over dress pushed them together slightly. He opened his legs and gestured with his hand to come closer until her legs pressed against the insides of his fat thighs.

Then he leaned forward in his chair and put his fat lips to her left nipple. She drew back quickly.

"Get back here," he commanded. He was not joking. She moved forward again and watched helplessly as the fat lips moved up to her nipple again and began sucking it.

He sucked her nipple with surprising tenderness and then increased the pressure of the sucking and opened his mouth wider, to fit in the whole of her large areola, and then he sucked in some of her breast. She could feel his tongue working on the nipple in his mouth.

She felt electric shocks travelling through her body. Her pussy was pulsing and she was panting. She wanted to cry. He moved his lips to her other breast and repeated the treatment, leaving her other swollen nipple covered in his saliva. This time he sucked harder. He pushed both breasts up with his thick hands and pressed them together and squeezed as he sucked. Now he was sucking hard enough to leave marks. It was slightly painful and unbelievably pleasurable.

Gill felt her knees and legs weakening and trembling. She couldn't help grinding her thighs together. He moved his mouth from one breast to the other. He sucked her nipples until they were bursting and squeezed and tweaked them mercilessly and expertly with his thick fingers. He swapped sides quickly, and sucked harder.

She put her hands down on his head to steady herself from collapsing on the floor. She was convulsing now and she knew an orgasm was approaching but there was nothing she could do to stop it. He pussy throbbed. The torment continued. He pulled his away watch her face as he squeezed the breasts up and pulled on both of the nipples with his thumbs and forefingers. She threw her head back and cried out as she came.

He looked at her trembling distressed figure standing before him. Her lovely tits were covered in his spit and they were swollen and red around the nipples.

"Sit in the chair," he growled. He stood up and kicked off his trousers. He was lost in lust just as she was.

"Pants off. Legs over the armrests."

"You can't fuck me," she said, "We're trying for a family." She was surprised at the way she spoke.

He pushed her back in the chair. He pulled off her wet panties and held them to his nose, then lifted her long legs over the armrests so that she was exposed.

She let out a whimper as her pussy lips opened up in front of him. She felt open and vulnerable and horny. She wanted him to see her pussy.

He got down between her legs and put his fat lips to her. She was oozing juices. He spread his big hands over her breasts again and kneaded them while his tongue licked up and down the length of her pussy and teased her swollen clit. He pushed his tongue deep into her pussy and slurped up the juice crudely, in a way Robert would never have done.

"It's a lovely sweet pussy, he groaned," and he put his lips on the clit and delicately massaged it. Sucking and nibbling gently and rhythmically, the way he had learned in the years of marriage before his wife took off.

One of his hands dropped down and she felt his thick thumb as it penetrated deep into her pussy and churned around inside her, while the forefinger pushed against her tight and virgin ass. She was not used to being touched there. Suddenly she was coming again. She let out a huge moan.

"Oh God," she cried, "Oh God," as her body heaved and convulsed against him, grinding her pussy into his face and covering it in her juices.

He stood in front of her.

"Now take out my cock."

Gill was dizzy. She was dimly aware that all her concentration was in this poky office and that her head was full of sex. She unbuckled the belt and unbuttoned the trousers. When she felt his cock through his jockey shorts she was stunned by its size. It was much bigger than Robert's. She pulled the shorts down over it and she couldn't take her eyes of it. It was huge. Twice as fat as Robert's and not fully erect yet. The head was bulging out of the foreskin.

"That's it. Now suck it. Take it in your mouth." He could see that she was disgusted as well as excited. He was going to enjoy this. She held it carefully between her thumb and forefinger and lifted it towards her lips.

"Stop messing about. Get your hand round it. Put it in your mouth. All of it. I want to see you suck my cock."

Robert had never spoken to her so crudely. It turned her on, despite her wish that it didn't. She took hold of the fat cock and put it in her mouth and moved her head up and down on it the way Robert had shown her. It grew in her mouth. She could just get her lips round the huge purple red knob.

"Now take it out and look at it. Kiss it all over."

Again she obeyed. She could feel the smell of it invading her nostrils. She could see the big swollen veins down its length. The hole at the tip of it. It curved upwards and to the side. She felt disgust and fascination at the same time. She was wildly excited and she wanted it back in her mouth, in her pussy. Her lips had become extraordinarily sensitive. She was nearly crying.

"Suck it," the order came, and she felt his hand at the back of her head forcing her down on it. It was only a third of the way in before it made her gag at the back of her throat. He pushed her head down until it couldn't go any further. She couldn't breathe but he still held her head.

When he allowed her up for air she spluttered. A mouthful of saliva spilled down her breasts onto her lap and thighs. He rubbed the cock over her face.

"Suck my balls," he said. She managed to get one of his big testicles in her mouth and she heard him groan with pleasure. He jerked his cock in her face while she sucked on his balls.

"You love it, don't you. Say you love it."

"I love it," she said, obeying the command. It had gone too far. She wanted it to stop. She wished that it would soon be over, that she could get out of there and put the experience from her mind forever.

"No! Stop messing about! Say it like you mean it. 'I love sucking your cock.' Say it, and keep saying it. And mean it, or you're in trouble." He put both hands on her head and forced her mouth back down on his cock so she could feel it pushing at her throat. He held her head and started a fucking motion, pushing the huge bell-end of his cock against the restriction at the back of her throat. When he let her come up, she was dizzy from the lack of air and dizzy from the cock. She spewed out more fluid, and it dribbled down her breasts.

"I love it," she said, "I love sucking your cock." And she carried on sucking it. She was mesmerized by the huge veins in it and its thickness, the smell of it, and the dark red-purple colour of it.

She lifted her head and repeated the words, then took the cock back in her mouth and wanked it while she sucked it. It was beginning to take her over. She was losing herself in the cock-sucking and throat fucking and genuinely letting herself go. She did love it. And when she lifted her head and said, "I love sucking your cock," she meant it. She didn't care about her dignity. Her pussy was throbbing.

She sucked it wildly now. He took it out of her mouth and jacked it and rubbed it over her face, then put it back in her mouth. He repeated it. Took it out, wanked it, put it back in her mouth. She couldn't take her eyes off it while he wanked it in front of her face. She kept her mouth open with her tongue out, waiting for him to put it back in. She knew he was going to come in her face or in her mouth.

It finally erupted in her mouth and she felt the come squirting down her throat. Then he pulled it out and the fat cock sprayed huge globules of spunk on her face and tits. There was spunk in her hair.

He opened the top drawer of his desk and took his mobile, aimed, and took the picture of her leaning back in his chair, covered in spunk and fluids, her breasts shiny and exposed, her pussy on display. Then he pointed to the corner and the small camera that had captured everything.

"Now, up you get, " he said. He suddenly became more business like. He zipped up his trousers. "And you'll buy the watch." He took her credit card from the desk and swiped it on the machine. "I want you to wear it all the time, even in bed. So if you're not in the habit of wearing a watch in bed, start now. Wear it in the shower. It's waterproof. You're never to take it off. And every time you look at it, I want you to think about how you love sucking my cock."

"But I've paid for what happened, and I've paid for the watch, " she protested. "And besides, I wear this," she said, pointing to the elegant Cartier on her wrist. "It's my first anniversary present."

"You'll need to make an excuse. You just wanted a change. I don't care. But you will wear the Rolex. I know where you live. I have friends. I'll be watching you. You will do what I tell you, until I say you can stop." And he watched as she slipped onto her wrist the Rolex she had just paid for. The clasp snapped shut.

"Now off you go. I'll get in touch." She wanted to ask what he meant, why he would want to see her again. But she wanted even more to avoid conversation and escape from that small room.

She did her best to tidy herself but she was a mess. She reeked of the spunk on her face and breasts and in her hair. Her eye shadow was smeared with her tears. Her panties were gone and the beautiful white cotton dress was stained and wet in patches. It was see-through where it was soaked with semen and spit, and the wetness made the material cling to her breasts.

He opened a door under the stairs and produced a raincoat.

"Return this," he ordered, "but get it cleaned first."

She closed the shop door behind her and hurried through the staring faces in the street.

She stood in the shower and let the water run. She rubbed herself down with shower gel and a sponge, and then again with soap and a flannel. She repeatedly washed her hair. She couldn't seem to get rid of the smell, so she poured lavender oil into a hot bath and soaked. Her nipples and breasts were sore where the jeweller had sucked and squeezed them, and she would have to wear pyjamas or a nightdress to conceal the marks from her husband. She put on clean, sober underwear and a jogging suit. She threw the Rolex at the back of an unused wardrobe drawer.

She used metal tongs to handle the white dress into a black plastic bag, and put it in the rubbish bin outside. The rubbish collectors would remove it from her life permanently. The raincoat the jeweller loaned her was still damp with the fluids that drenched her skin and soaked her dress. She used the tongs to put that in a plastic bag, too, and took it to a dry cleaners she never used - the smells from it were unmistakeable and she could not risk the curiosity of her local cleaner. She asked them to make it an urgent job, and was upset when she had to wait overnight. She scrubbed with detergent the bathroom floor touched by the dress and the coat. She wanted it all cleansed. She picked up the coat early the following morning and sent it by courier to the jeweller. She did not want to be accused of not returning it. The Rolex was out of sight at the back of the drawer. She could have thrown it away, but did not want to waste so much money. She could sell it when she was ready.

But she could not forget what she had done in that small musty office. The jeweller remained on her mind all day long, all night long. The images haunted her. She remembered his cock, the smell of it, the velvety softness of the skin, the taste of it, the sweet taste of his semen as it filled her mouth, and the warmth of the splashes as they landed on her breasts. These were unforgettable sensations. The image of his cock with its big ugly veins and its huge red purple head came to her in vibrant colour when she closed her eyes to sleep, with her husband lying there beside her. She dreamt about the sex and she woke aroused during the night, startled by the vividness of her dreams. In the morning she was seeping juices. She would lie on the bed and close her eyes and masturbate, angry with herself for being so turned on. She thought about the jeweller when she made love to her husband. She remembered his vulgarity and the crude and sensual way he handled her. She thought about him during the day when Robert was at work. She was excited all the time. It was agony.

She began to let go during lovemaking in ways that shocked Robert. He was taken back when she sucked him with such abandon. She said things she would not normally say, like "fuck me", in a tone he had never heard from her. But what she allowed herself to express in the marital bed was a fraction of the lust that burned in her continually.

After a few weeks, she began to find a new balance. Her lovemaking with Robert was raunchier, but still loving. She could never return to their previous innocence, but the new animal quality compensated. It was a nicely controlled compromise.

"I just wanted to add a bit of spice," she said, when he asked her what had gotten into her. She looked at him flirtatiously, to suggest hidden depths she was exploring at her own pace.

She filled her life with activity to reduce the power of what the jeweller had done. She needed to be busy. She stopped wandering round the house in rage and lust, and absorbed herself in work with the church. She met other members of the congregation to organise events and help raise money. She worked part-time in the charity stop.

People remarked on changes in her temperament. Mrs Simpson, the priest's secretary, was the sharpest observer. She saw reclusiveness in the beautiful young woman who suddenly found so much time to help. It was there in the downward glance that cut people off and seemed to conceal private thoughts. Gill's face became more serious Mrs Simpson thought, as though a cloud had suddenly passed over it. Despite all her involvement and busy activity, the young woman was more distant.

She was more fiery too. The head waiter in her usual Italian restaurant lost Gillian's reservation, and Mrs. Simpson was surprised by the command in her tone. Previously, Gill would have accommodated the waiter courteously, and perhaps they would have gone to a pub for lunch instead, but she stiffened to a confrontational stance, and looked straight at the imposing waiter.

"I dine here often. I expect more than this," was all she said.

But other diner's looked around to see who spoke. There was a moment's quiet. It was midday and the restaurant was full. The head waiter fumbled and apologized. He rushed to create a new table for them. They were not charged for the meal. Her mellowness and gentle nature returned seconds later, Mrs. Simpson noticed, but that fire was new.

Gill knew she had changed. But it was over and done with, she thought, apart from the memories and the lustfulness, both of which she seemed to be dealing with.

- ii -

She did not hear from Lucy, and made no attempt to contact her. She had ignored her calls and her attempts to get in touch until they stopped. She never wanted to hear from her again. She did not expect to hear from the jeweller, either. So when she answered the door one Tuesday lunchtime in her tracksuit, disturbed from paying bills, she was shocked to see them standing there in the September rain. The street was dark and shiny. The taxi that brought them disappeared from the drive into the main road. The jeweller held a black umbrella and Lucy huddled under it to shelter from the rain. He could have been a solicitor, with his pin-stripe thee-piece and leather shoes.

"Why are you so surprised? I told you I'd be watching." He stepped through the front door as though he had a right to, and she stepped back to let him in, intimidated by the authority he assumed. Like the jeweller, Lucy stepped past Gillian without asking. Then she slipped off her black raincoat and handed it to her. Underneath she wore a black lace body stocking, high heeled ankle boots. She was astonishing. She stood very close and Gillian felt her physical presence.

Lucy looked Gillian straight in the eyes, but showed no sense of repentance, no sign of apology, no wish for approval. She turned and walked into the living room and Gillian was surprised that she knew exactly where to go. She still moved like a dancer, Gillian noticed. She remembered how years ago she had tried to imitate that walk, and how they giggled when she copied it. The jeweller, too, walked uninvited into the living room. Gillian followed them. She felt that her home had been taken over.

She was filled with dread. Here he was, this short, fat, vulgar man in her private space. He looked around at the tasteful furnishings, the art on the walls, the garden through the French windows, and sat himself down on the settee exactly where her husband usually sat.

Lucy helped herself to a drink and prowled around the room. Gillian noticed her supple, cat-like movement. In the body stocking, she was disturbingly sexual.

"I told you to wear the watch." Gillian's eyes were so transfixed by Lucy, she had forgotten the jeweller. "It was a requirement of letting you go. I made that clear. I said I would not call the police, and I kept my word. You broke yours." He reached into his briefcase and produced a disc. Put it in your DVD player please." His manner did not invite discussion.

The picture was surprisingly clear for a security camera. The first few minutes showed her producing the stolen watch from her bag.

She looked angrily across at Lucy, who was watching the screen intently.

Then the scene moved to the jewellers office. She saw herself sitting in the chair with her breasts exposed, while the jeweller played with them. She saw her own excitement at what he did. When she saw herself crawling on her hands and knees with her bare breasts hanging down and swaying, she sickened. Her face went white and she slumped into the armchair. She was consumed with shame. She covered her face with her hands so Lucy could not see her.

"Look at it," came the command. "You need to see what your husband will see, or anyone else I send it to."

She looked up at the screen, trying to blank Lucy from her vision as scene played itself out. She saw herself jerking in orgasm as the jeweller lapped at her, her legs splayed wantonly over the arms of his chair. And all the other senses, the smells, the tastes - it all came back. She felt her body starting to become aroused. She felt like screaming. All the work she had done to obliterate it! She dropped her head again to hide her face in her hands.

She knew the video would destroy Robert, and their marriage, his business, any social position they held.

"You just have to pay the price for you actions," the jeweller said. His voice was perversely sweet and reassuring. She knew that "the price" would be sexual. She was confused by the presence of Lucy. Possible scenarios occurred, but she dismissed them as absurd or obscene and admonished herself for even allowing those thoughts.

"Go and change," she heard him say. "A dressing gown would be appropriate. No underwear. And wear the watch."

She went upstairs, found the Rolex, wound it, adjusted it, and put it on her wrist. She took off the tracksuit, her bra, and slipped off her panties. She put on her black silk dressing gown. It came to the middle of her thighs. She felt the silk against her skin as she walked down the stairs with no underwear. She felt sacrificial. She crossed the hall and entered the living room, feeling more naked and vulnerable than she had ever been. She had no idea of what was about to happen.

- iii -

Gillian felt Lucy's attention as it concentrated on her. Lucy looked at her unblinkingly, and approached very slowly, her hips and body adjusting to each carefully placed step. She was gorgeous, Gillian could see. The girl she spent so much time with at college was transformed. She was lovely back then, Gillian remembered, but now! This woman was a supple and voluptuous animal. In her heels, she was the same height as Gillian. She inched nearer, still looking Gillian directly in the eyes. That movement! The dancer's walk! The energy she generated was unbelievable, like a huge electromagnet. Gillian could feel it. It got stronger as Lucy got closer. She noticed the delicate perfume Lucy wore, and wanted to pursue it to its source. She looked into the light green eyes, set in dark skin. They drew you in. They were luminous, hypnotic. The sensual curve of her lips. They were such lovely lips. She wanted to turn away but found she was unable to.

Any resistance Gillian might have offered was destroyed by the fact Lucy had just watched her being degraded, and seen her enjoying it. She allowed Lucy to push the silk open and the gown fell from her shoulders. Gillian was almost in a trance. She was naked and exposed. Lucy moved even closer. Gillian felt she could not stop her, even if there was no video.

Lucy's arms circled her waist and held her body against hers. Gillian didn't know what to do, so she raised her hands and put them on Lucy's hips. She felt the pressure of Lucy's breasts and belly and thighs, her body warmth and the texture of the body stocking. Her pulse quickened. Her breath came in little rushes. She had goose bumps. She knew that her body was communicating all these reactions to Lucy though her breathing, through her eyes, through the tensing of her muscles, the stiffening of her nipples. She was wet, she knew. She studied Lucy's lips. 'God, they are lovely,' she thought. She saw the chestnut hair, the arched, shaped eyebrows, the warm glow in her skin. She was spellbound.

Gillian wondered what they were going to do to her. She appealed to Lucy with her eyes, but she would not have been able to put the appeal into words, and her wishes changed by the second. She wanted to say, "Don't", but then it became "Don't hurt me," then, "Be gentle". She said nothing.

She felt the rise and fall of Lucy's breasts, and then she felt Lucy swaying gently, the weight of her body shifting in a gentle gyration. She felt Lucy's breasts caressing her own, She felt her thighs and her belly. The caress of Lucy's belly was lovely. It was a woman's belly. Gillian's mouth formed, "Oh!" as her breath escaped, and she closed her eyes. She wanted to say, "Please", but did not know why. The gyrations became stronger.

The kiss came so slowly, Gill would remember. Lucy's body continued its gentle, rhythmic movement against her. Her face moved in closer and lost focus, and it felt like everything became blurred. Gill felt the warmth from Lucy's cheeks as they almost touched hers. She could sense the pores respiring. Then Lucy's lips were millimetres from hers. They traced the shape of Gillian's lips without touching them. There was a hesitant movement towards a kiss and a pulling back, a tease. She saw Lucy moistening them, felt the gentle pressure of Lucy's hand at the base of her spine and then the lips on hers. It was so beautiful she wanted to cry. Her body was melting.

She returned the kiss gently to show Lucy how much pleasure she felt, and Lucy's lips opened slightly to receive her response. Gill made more small kisses, paying tribute to every part of Lucy's lips. And Lucy nibbled back skilfully, sending shivers through Gillian. Lucy's tongue flicked the inside of her lip, then she pulled back and left Gill wanting a fuller, deeper kiss but Lucy denied her.

Their bodies moved more tightly together. They fitted so well, Gill saw. She looked down at their breasts pressing against each other, at the contrast between Lucy's darker skin and her own.

She turned to look at the jeweller. He had taken out his cock out and was wanking it slowly, watching them. It made Gill feel lewd.

She let Lucy push her back onto the settee and stand in front of her, and Gillian did something she had never done with a woman. She moved her open hands over Lucy's body and caressed it, savoured its curves, and reached round to feel her back and buttocks. It was a fuller figure than her own, sensual and athletic. The dark shadows of the body stocking accentuated the curves of her belly and breasts, her lovely hips. She looked across at the jeweller wanking, as if to say, 'You like this don't you? Look what I am doing to her that I don't want to do with you.' She felt wicked. She reached up with her face to kiss the nipples through the lace. But then she felt Lucy's hands on her shoulders pushing her backwards again so that she was lying on the settee.

Lucy kissed her face, her cheeks, her nose, her eyes, and the kisses moved down to her neck. Lucy's hands roamed over her body while the kisses moved further downwards. Gillian felt her lips at the top of her breast, and then underneath and at the side, and then her tongue was moving around her areola in circles. Lucy kissed and licked and nibbled, moving closer to the nipple. Lucy looked up at Gillian's eyes as she took the nipple between her lips.

"Yes," said Gillian, "yes."

She brought her hand up behind Gillian's head and held it as the beautiful lips closed on the nipple.

"Oh, God," Gillian sighed. Her head fell back. The little sucks and nibbles sent currents sluicing through her body. Her pussy was burning. Her thighs tensed together. Lucy's lips moved to the other breast and her palm caressed Gill's belly, moving in circles, appreciating the swell and the curve of it, the shape of her belly, and then it dipped further. Gillian ached to feel Lucy's hand on her pussy.

She realised she had always wanted this, that she wanted Lucy more than anyone. She was near orgasm, she knew. She pulled Lucy's face to hers and kissed her the way she would kiss her perfect and only lover. She wanted to say with her lips and with her whole body, "I love you. I want you. I am yours. Please have me".

The hand dipped to her pussy and cupped it. She felt Lucy's forefinger as it traced the lips up and down and then she felt them parting. The finger's light pressure brought it up inside Gillian's pussy, into the warmth and wetness of her most intimate place. She looked Lucy in the eyes as two of her fingers penetrated. She felt the fingers circling inside her and she gave herself to the unbelievable pleasure of it. She felt Lucy's lips on hers. And then she was coming. Her body trembled. She bit her lip, and her eyes locked into Lucy's, as waves and waves of tremors shook her and tears swelled in her eyes.

But it wasn't over. Lucy's head dropped down. Gill felt her belly being kissed, her pubic bone, kisses on the insides of her thighs. She felt a delicate kiss on her pussy lips and then the tongue lapping along the full length of her pussy, all the way from the clit to her small puckered hole.

"Oh, Jesus," she said. It was beyond all imagining. She shook her head from side to side as Lucy tongued her. She could feel another orgasm building, like none she had ever felt. The tongue lapped over her pussy and caressed the folds of her lips. It fluttered on the clitoris, and moved down to penetrate her, exploring her pussy. Then it came back to the clit. Lucy put her lips to the knob of the clit and suckled tenderly while her tongue flickered on it. Gillian felt the tongue take long, sweeping licks, all the way to her puckered anus again, then back to the clitoris. It went on and on. It was merciless. She was deranged by the bliss of it.

She brought her hands down to Lucy's head and pressed her face into her pussy, and her body convulsed in spasms that seemed to go on forever. When it finally died down she brought Lucy's face up to her own and covered it in kisses. It was soaked in Gillian's juices.

Gillian had been crying, but now she laughed and wiped her eyes.

Then she heard a shuffling behind her. Gillian's eyes were wide. The jeweller was looking at her wet exposed pussy and rubbing his stiff cock in preparation. He had pushed off his trousers, removed his jacket. He was ready. He lay behind Gillian and held her legs apart and rubbed his cock between her legs and the cheeks of her bum. It traced the length of her pussy. She felt the fat head of it trying to push into her.

Lucy held her hand.

Gillian didn't know what was happening now. She felt drunk or mad that she was doing this, here in her home, in her living room with her husband at work. The cock was huge and she felt the fat head of it pushing in as it found the entrance. The jeweller set up a gentle rocking motion. She felt the madness taking over again as the cock stretched her, little by little, and penetrated more deeply. She looked back at the jeweller and raised her hand to warn him to go slowly.

Lucy kissed her on the lips, on the face and chin, on the breasts, as the jeweller fucked her, slowly easing his cock more deeply into her pussy.

Lucy kissed all the way down her body again, over her breasts and her belly. She tongued the hood of her clit while the jewellers cock pumped in and out. It was soaked in her milky fluids. Lucy drank in the rich, sweet fluid and returned to kiss Gillian on the lips.

Gillian could feel the jeweller's power. For a short, fat man, he was extraordinarily strong. The fat head of his cock was bumping against her unprotected womb. He had taken hold of her hips and was fucking her with deep, even strokes. She couldn't help giving herself to it.

"Oh fuck," she cried, "Oh fuck". It was so wrong, but she loved it. And it she loved it that Lucy was watching and sharing it with her. She had never imagined her body could create such feelings. Her pussy expanded and stretched around the cock and gripped it. She felt it reaching new places inside her.

She put her hands down to feel it. It was slippy-wet with her juices. She felt the thickness of it with her fingers, and held the base of it as he fucked her. She was lost in it. She remembered the jeweller's spunk in her mouth. She cupped his balls and fucked herself back onto him. She felt Lucy kissing her and caressing her breasts as the jeweller heaved his cock into her.

Lucy's hand moved down and massaged her pussy and her clit while the fucking continued. The fingers stroked around her pussy lips. She felt Lucy pressing hard on the pubic bone with her palm and then her fingers worked on the clit. Gillian exploded. She seemed to lose consciousness for a few seconds. She grabbed Lucy in her arms and held her tightly. Her body convulsed.

"Oh God, Oh, God...." She was loud enough for the neighbours to hear.

The jeweller's cock and balls pulsed as he emptied his semen into her pussy and her womb. He carried on pumping and coming. She could feel the spurts of it. It spilled out of her. She held Lucy tight while the jeweller humped and filled her. She cried. She kissed Lucy's ear, her cheek, her eyes, her lips, and held her tightly.

The jeweller's cock stayed inside her while they lay still to recover. She could feel semen dripping down her thigh, and between her legs. He withdrew slowly after a few minutes, and when his cock plopped out, and he moved away to leave her lying on her back, her legs fell open, her whole body limp. Globules of sticky white come ran from her.

Lucy kissed her tenderly on the lips, holding her face in her hands. Gill curled up in the foetal position, with her head in Lucy's lap while the jeweller buttoned himself up and left.

- iv -

It was an hour later when she woke to the phone ringing. She had been covered with a blanket to keep her warm.

"Shhhh," she heard. Lucy stroked her hair. "Shhh. Leave it."

After a while, Lucy knew that Gill was weeping. Her face was concealed under her arm, but Lucy felt the tears dropping on her thighs. She heard a sniffle. She felt contractions in Gillian's body that grew slowly to a silent sobbing.

Gillian brought herself under control, blowing through her lips, almost panting. She sat up and shifted away from Lucy on the settee. When she was calm, she took off the watch and put it on the glass coffee table, well away from her.

Lucy felt the coolness. She saw how deeply Gillian was affected by what had happened. She saw a girl who married out of love and gave herself to her husband as a virgin.

"I feel so betrayed," said Gillian calmly. She shrugged - a little forward movement in her left shoulder, a tilting of her head, a pursing of her lips, and a tiny raising of her eyebrows - a delicate gesture that was oddly French, and so particular to her. It was such a small thing but Lucy was heartbroken to think she might not see it again. 'I don't know what to say,' is what it meant.

"It wasn't meant to happen," said Lucy, "I never imagined you'd do that in his office." She felt her own defensiveness, and felt Gillian slipping away from her.

"He could have called the police."

"Nothing would have happened. He was a friend of my parents. I went back to see him to explain everything. It was all on video anyway, me taking it. They would never have charged you." Lucy felt the weakness of her reply, and felt that she was arguing. It was going wrong.

"So why did you give it to me outside," said Gillian, angry now, controlled, "and why didn't you admit you took it there and then, in the shop, instead of putting me in that position?"

"I panicked. I never thought they'd stop you. And in the shop, I don't know, it happened so fast. I didn't want it to look like we did it together. I thought you'd hold out, and I'd have time to think. I just thought, you'd deal with it, and then I came back to make sure you were o.k., and he showed me the video. I called you, I left messages, and emails. I wrote you a letter."

Gillian looked away from Lucy, at the table, at the garden through the French windows. She shook her head.

"I really never thought anything would happen to you," said Lucy. "If it came to the worst, I thought you'd tell him that I dumped it on you at the last minute. I didn't think Harry would do that to you, or that you'd give in so easily."

"Harry? You call him, Harry?" Gillian was astonished.

" 'Harry the Jeweller', that's what he's called. He knew my parents. He used to come to the house a lot. He was always perving on me, touching me if there was no-one looking. I caught him going through my knickers once. He sneaked into my room and went through the laundry, and I came up and caught him in there. He took some, I know, because they were missing."

"He made me come with him today. He knew what I felt about you straight away when he saw us together. I wanted you so much, but today I didn't have a choice."

Lucy's response was quick, but very measured.

"I need to be able to trust my friends, Lucy, I'm used to being honest with people. I never thought you would steal. I can't live like that."

It sounded like a door slamming shut. Lucy hung her head. Eventually she spoke.

"There was a dyke I knew at Uni," she said, "Robbie. She was lovely, but scary, you know? She got pissed off with me, and told me to stop talking about you. 'You go on about her all the time', she said. 'You've been going on about her for three years. Either shut up and forget her, or do something about it. Go and see her. Knock on her door, take her in your arms and kiss her, and tell her that you love her. And if she says she doesn't feel the same way, have the courage to deal with it.' "

"I drove down from Scotland during the night and parked outside your house, just outside here. It was dawn. I waited till Robert left for work. I was going to do it. I got out of the car." Lucy took the other end of the blanket, and covered herself.

"And why didn't you?" Gillian asked.

"It was the house," Lucy said. She was trying to control her feelings. "The neat brickwork, the tidy garden, the lace curtains. It was just like you. Your parents. It's all so neat and locked tight. My life's not like that. It reminded me how impossible it was to tell you how I felt."

"I tried to show you all through college. I built my world around you. I got the 7 O'clock bus every morning just to see you on your own for a few minutes before everyone else got there. I took Psychology and English so I could see you in class. I couldn't take my eyes off you. I waited for you every lunch hour and whenever you could get free from your parents. But you never noticed. And you were so uptight. Like your parents. Gorgeous, pure - and I love that about you - but uptight."

"Then you met Robert, and the world I'd built around you just fell apart. I don't mean that as an expression. I really had built my life around you, and you were gone."

"Up till then, I thought there was a chance. I had fantasies about getting you drunk at a party and dragging you into a room, and you remembering how good it was the day after. But you never got drunk. And if I'd kissed you, you'd have run a mile."

"Next, you were getting engaged, organising your wedding, buying a house. You cut me off."

"This is no excuse for stealing, for what you did." Gillian's expression was grave. She gave no emphasis to the words, did not shake her head or raise her voice.

"I know. And I'm so, so sorry. It was stupid. It was an impulse. I was with you again, after not seeing you for ages and I felt so high. You were gorgeous that morning. I thought the watch was beautiful and I was going to buy it for you, but then I thought, it would be fun, a bit dangerous, exciting. We could have a laugh about it. I didn't see a risk, because it was Harry the Jeweller. And I could get back at him for always pawing at me. I felt invincible with you there."

"And please don't misunderstand me, don't get me wrong when I say this, but you enjoyed yourself in that office - I've seen the video. I couldn't believe it when I heard you saying, 'Is there any way I can make this right?' To Harry! Harry the jeweller, Christ! And then what you did with him! It didn't even occur to me that you wouldn't be able stand your ground, but you didn't even try. What you did was so out of character. I know I mucked up, but it's not fair to put it all on me."

It was true, Gillian knew. Something took hold of her in that office.

"Now he's got the video," said Lucy.

They looked at each other.

"I don't know what's going to happen," said Lucy, "but one good thing comes out of it, and that's this: I know that you love me. And I love you, even if I've mucked it up. And if you'll give me a chance, I'll spend my life trying to put it right."

Gillian took up the watch that Lucy had stolen and that she, Gillian, had paid for, and studied it. She had not looked at it closely.

"I think this is for you," she said after a while, "Look how the mother of pearl changes in the light, the shifting patterns and colours. Look..." She shuffled to Lucy on the settee to show her, and angled it against the light from the windows. "The colours are like your moods. And I like the rose gold and the steel. You're the gold - all warm, and I'm the steel - cool. And I like it that it's a bracelet, so I'll feel like I'm wrapped around you when you're not there."

Gillian slipped it onto Lucy's wrist and fastened it and kissed her.

She didn't want to talk any more. There was more talking to do, she knew, but it could wait.

She saw that the rain had stopped. The garden was a rich, late-summer green, glistening from the rain. Some of the leaves had taken on brown and yellow tints. She gathered the blanket around her and went to the window and Lucy followed. She pulled back the glass door and felt the sweet, clean September air. Gillian wrapped her arm round Lucy's waist. They stood there, looking out.

"Let's take a shower," she said.

Gillian dreamed again about the jeweler and woke in a panic in the night. The red light of the clock said 3.45 a.m. She turned to see Robert sleeping peacefully. She put a hand down between her legs and felt her wetness. In her dream she worked herself lewdly against the fat old jeweler's cock while he grinned at the pleasure she was getting on it. And then the door opened - she didn't know which door - and Robert walked in. Her husband's face contorted in pain when he saw what she was doing. But she couldn't stop. She heaved against the jeweler and ground her pussy on his thick cock, even while her husband watched. It was a terrible dream.

She did not want to go back to sleep. Eventually she gave way to tiredness and then she heard the alarm clock and her husband moving around. She drifted in and out of sleep as Robert dressed. She did not want to wake fully or to face him. When she heard the front door closing, and the iron clink of the latch on the garden gate, she pulled the covers back and sat on the bed. She rubbed her eyes. She pulled on her jeans and went downstairs.

She would to talk to Mrs Simpson, she decided. She needed to do something, but couldn't see a way out. The priest's secretary was down to earth, and Gillian felt she could be trusted. She would bring it up later when she helped with parish administration.

But first she wanted to swim. She felt clean and healthy after swimming. She chose the black costume because it was modest and functional. She felt she was half in the real world and half in her dream state - half in her marriage and half out of it. She drank an orange juice and drove to the pool.

She felt the temperature with her toes, lowered herself in and pushed off into the rush and the drag of the water. She glided to a relaxed speed and pulled back her arm in a long, slow stroke. She felt herself stretching, and eased up the pool into a gentle turn. For the first few lengths, she increased the demand on her body as it came awake. She found her rhythm and worked up to cruising pace.

She concentrated this time on the length of her stroke. She stretched her shoulder, reached as far as she could, and pulled her hand all the way back, her elbow high, the way she was trained. The jeweler came into her mind, but she brought her attention back to the stroke. She felt the tilting of her body to the side as she stretched forward. She switched into catch-up drill for the increased concentration, and after a couple of laps pushed herself to a sprint for ten lengths. Then she relaxed and cruised. He came back into her awareness but Gillian again brought her attention back to the stroke and to her breathing. She immersed herself in technique until she was aware only of the rhythmic movements of her body, the sensation of cutting through the water, the liquid sounds in her ears, the blueness, the dappled patterns on the floor of the pool.

A group of swimmers chatting at the side watched appreciatively as she slipped up and down the pool like a professional swimmer. An outside observer might have noticed the hush in conversation as she pulled her body up the pool ladder, dripping with water, and walked to the changing room. When she disappeared from sight, the chatter picked up again.

She went home feeling fresh, awake and alive, and looking forward to scrambled eggs and coffee. She glowed from the exercise. It was a beautiful, autumn morning, full of colour. The postman greeted her as she parked in the drive.

"One to sign for this morning. Lovely isn't it." He gestured at the trees and sky and handed her the letter and a pad to sign and went on his way.

She opened it at the kitchen table. It contained two photographs. The first was taken from the DVD and showed her crawling on her hands and knees with her breasts hanging out. The second came from the jeweler's mobile, and showed her sitting in his chair with her breasts exposed, her pussy wet and open. She was dishevelled and clearly aroused. The jeweler was not in the pictures. There was a typewritten sheet with a list of instructions for her to follow.

She sat motionless, the pictures spread before her on the table. Her appetite was gone. She felt trapped, angry, beaten. He was corrupting her, and she knew that he would push her as low as he could. He was not going to stop

- -0- -

She stood in the Rectory porch, and saw through the stained glass windows the shape of Mrs Simpson approaching the large front door. It was a Victorian house in dark red brick with sash windows. Blue bricks surrounded the windows and door, and formed dark blue diagonal patterns in the dark red of the facade.

Mrs Simpson dealt with parish business briskly and cheerfully. She took responsibility for the finances, handled correspondence and shielded the priest from over-demanding parishioners. She dispensed commonsense advice with a smile, and her down-to-earth temperament balanced well against the priest's thoughtfulness and gravity.

The daughter of a lawyer, she refused to follow her father into the law - she didn't want to spend her life arguing, she insisted - and instead studied languages. She spoke Spanish and German fluently, and could get by in French. After university, she married an accountant and started a family. She was content as a housewife and mother, and enjoyed working as the priest's secretary. She liked to feel she was at the heart of a community. But her genial attitude concealed a hawk-like perceptiveness.

She led Gillian to an office at the back of the house overlooking the garden. There was a dining table, with two huge piles: one of brown envelopes and another of letters appealing for funds.

"Thank God, you're here," she said, smiling at her little joke, "I've got to get these (pointing to the letters) into these (pointing to the envelopes)! They sat down and started work.

"So, what's been happening?" she asked after half an hour. Her tone changed, and Gillian knew she suspected something was wrong.

"I've got myself into some awful trouble," she said. Mrs Simpson could hear the worry in her voice. She put down the envelope she had just picked up and listened. Gillian started talking. She told her almost everything but avoided detail. When she finished, she looked at the clock and noticed she had been talking for half an hour. She felt relieved.

"Of course, you probably knew what I would say before you asked me for advice," said Mrs Simpson."

"I love Robert. It will destroy him."

"It's the first test of your marriage, and there will be more," said the older woman. "If you tell him, and help him deal with it - if you love him - then he'll come round, I'm sure of it. If you don't put an end to it now, you're in deeper trouble. The real problem is this: how do you handle your desire and bring it into your marriage?"

Gillian was surprised at how the secretary stripped down the issues so easily. She thought Gillian's relationship with Lucy would change and enrich her life. But she was clear about the relationship with the jeweler. It had to stop.

They settled back into work. They folded letters and envelopes, working quickly and quietly, until the pile was gone. Gillian felt a sense of satisfaction, and an extraordinary closeness with the older woman. When Mrs Simpson waved her goodbye from the porch, the solution seemed clear and simple, and Gillian felt brave.

- -0- -

But later when she sat alone in her kitchen with the pictures and the instructions, she felt less confident, less sure Robert would forgive her, and more sure than ever that the jeweler would send the pictures to him, and to anyone else who mattered. They would be posted on the web. She wouldn't be able to deal with those images on the internet. Her husband would see her in that stranger's office, her legs apart, her pussy open and wet. Her friends and family would see her crawling on her hands and knees with her breasts hanging out. She couldn't handle it. She needed to buy time.

She looked again at the photos. She remembered exposing herself in front of that dirty old man. She remembered sucking his cock, and she remembered the time he took her in front of Lucy, in her own front room. Her nipples stiffened. She felt herself aching down there and pressed her thighs together, upset that the fat, hairy jeweller could make her feel such lust. He disgusted her. But she had no choice. She had to obey the directions on the typewritten sheet.

She went to a shop in town where they sold cocktail dresses, so she could buy the clothes he had described. She found a mini-dress in black satin with a girdlng waist. It would have been beautiful on most women but on Gillian's statuesque figure it was extraordinary.

"It's truly stunning," said the shop owner, admiring Gillian in the mirror. The satin clung to her when she moved, and the shapes and curves of her body were accentuated by the thin material. The deep V neck revealed much of her breasts, but also kept them tantalizingly concealed. Her arms and shoulders were bare. Gillian enjoyed the woman's approving gaze.

"Why don't you try these with it," she said, and reached into a drawer to produce a pair of exquisite lace tanga briefs that would leave Gillian's buttocks bare underneath the satin of the dress. She delicately laid them out on the glass counter. Gillian was aware of the familiarity between herself and the shop keeper. She picked them up. They were very, very sexy, nearly completely see-through. Beautiful. And very expensive. She was proud of her bum. She considered herself in the mirror again. This was how she wanted to look for her husband, how she should dress up for him. But she would be showing herself off for a vulgar old man who forced her to behave like a slut. She wasn't sure about the briefs, she said. The shop owner noticed her wedding band.

"Your husband is a lucky man," she remarked, and Gillian felt herself blushing at the compliment as she went to change back into her jeans. At the till, she said she would take the briefs as well.

She put the clothes away at home and prepared dinner. She cooked Sea Bream, Robert's favourite meal. She would tell him that she had to go down town to meet some of the girls she knew at college. She had received a phone call, she would say. There was a party.

But when it came to the moment, she found it difficult. She anticipated Robert asking awkward questions, and imagined herself saying something obviously false and being caught out. She ended up shouting out to him from the kitchen while she filled the dishwasher.

"I've got to go out," she shouted. And she acted as though she needed to rush, as though she was late after lingering over dinner and now had no time to talk or explain in detail.

She went up to change. She pulled on the lace tanga briefs. It was lovely just to hold them and pull them onto her naked pussy. She loved the way they gave no coverage behind. She felt the satin caressing the bare flesh of her behind when she put on the dress. She could see the sides of her breasts as she turned in the mirror. She did not want Robert to come in and find her like this, or to see her putting on make-up, so she hurried. She would change her shoes and do her make-up in the car. She put high heeled sandals in a bag and pulled on a raincoat.

"I'll probably be late, so don't wait up, love." She kissed him on the cheek, rushing. Then she was gone. It was a relief to be out of the house. The instructions said 9pm. She parked in the multi-story car park at 9.15 and took time to put on make-up carefully. She was excited and knew it was wrong. She reminded herself she had no choice. She left the raincoat in the boot of the car and entered the hotel wearing just the dress and a clutch bag.

"I have a meeting with a gentleman called 'Harry'. He's expecting me," she told he hotel receptionist, who was so nervous that he broke hotel rules and left his post to take care of her personally. He led her through the lobby and bar, to a snug area beside the dance floor where the jeweller was waiting. Guests in the lobby and dining area could not avoid looking at her, even those used to averting their eyes out of politeness. Her posture drew attention, with her shoulders relaxed and back, her head held high.

Dark red partitions separated seating areas for privacy, so she did not immediately see the jeweler. She noticed he was not alone. There were two other men with him. She felt them ogling her as she took her seat and she lowered her eyes. They both wore suits. One was thin and probably quite tall, in his fifties, with dark thinning hair. She noticed his long thin fingers holding the stem of his glass on the table. The other was younger, shorter and more powerfully built, perhaps in his thirties. It was he who spoke first.

"I'm Burt. Pleased to meet you. We've heard so much about you." He grinned. There was no doubt about what he meant. He raised himself to extend a hand over the table. Gillian felt herself blushing deeply. She did not know what the jeweller had told them, but they obviously knew he had "had" her. She hoped he had not shown them the pictures or the DVD.

"Likewise. Mike," said the other, who sat closer. He nodded his greeting. He was quieter. Gillian wished her blushes would disappear. She sensed them enjoying her embarrassment. Mike raised his arm in the air, but before it had reached his shoulder a waiter was at the table.

"Yes, sir?"

"Champagne, please. The usual." The service was immediate, and Gillian guessed that he must be one of the owners or perhaps a night manager. When the waiter returned and the glasses had been filled, the jeweller raised a toast. His appearance was just as Gillian remembered. He wore another expensive three-piece suit. He was heavy and overweight, his hair thinning and combed to the side. His lips were thick and sensual. She noticed again the thickness of his fingers and the dark hairs on them as he raised his glass and held it over the table.

"To pleasure," he said. They waited until she raised her glass to her lips before they drank. She felt like she was drinking a toast to her own destruction. She put the glass to her lips but only allowed the liquid to touch her tongue.

"Drink up," came the instruction. And when she obeyed, her glass was immediately topped up. She felt the men's eyes roaming over her body. They chatted about champagne and hotels and holidays while she settled down. When she sipped from her glass, it was filled immediately. She learned that Mike was the manager, but she did not find out where Burt came from and did not ask.

"It would be good to see you dance," the jeweller said after a while. Burt nodded. There was a couple dancing, doing a kind of jive, guests of the hotel, she imagined. She took another sip of champagne. She would feel conspicuous dancing on her own in front of these men, but she could stay near the edge of the dance floor, she thought, and keep her back to the room.

"Let me just wait for the right music," she delayed.

"That's a gorgeous dress," said Mike.

"Thank you." She felt the velvet material of the seat on her thighs and became aware of how short the dress was, and of how much bare skin she was showing. She felt them looking at her naked arms and the area of breast exposed by the deep neckline. She could feel the air on her back. She sensed how they wanted her and couldn't help feeling stimulated by it. The music changed.

"Try dancing to this," said the jeweler, "but take off the bra." His soft voice still had incredible command, she noticed. She hesitated.

"I'll go to the ladies." She went to stand up.

"No. Here. Do it now." His heavy-set face showed the seriousness that she remembered from his office. Burt leaned forward, his mouth open in amazement at the jeweller's demonstration of power over her. She could feel Mike's eyes, too. He did not seem to want to blink. She reached behind and undid the strap through the satin as instructed. She noticed the couple on the dance floor glancing in her direction and she tried to make her movements as discreet as she could. The temperature in their small area seemed to increase while she shuffled to free her arms from the straps and remove the bra through the shoulder straps of the dress. She went to put the bra on the seat behind her clutch bag.

"On the table." The jeweller's order was firm.

She felt the satin on her breasts, and under their gazes her nipples hardened and jutted through the sheer material. She put the bra in front of them, and saw their eyes following it onto the table.

Her breasts free of the bra, she stood to dance. With every slight move, the satin caressed her breasts and nipples. It was a delicious sensation. She knew that the movement of her breasts would attract attention so she faced the men at the table. She felt them staring. She moved as gently as possible, to avoid the weight of breasts bouncing, and to avoid creating more attention than she was already attracting. But she was a naturally responsive dancer and it was impossible for her not to look erotic. The small movements she made seemed to have an effect opposite to the one she had intended. Their eyes were glued to her as her body swayed, revealing its shapes and contours in the clinging satin. She couldn't help being sexy. She felt the satin caressing her breasts and her buttocks where the panties left them bare.

"Turn around," came the jeweller's voice.

She knew that he wanted her to face the room and show herself off, to humiliate her. She gyrated round so that her back was to them and they could see the contours of her bum through the thin material. She heart Burt's voice.

"Fuck," was all he said. He's so crude, she thought.

Now that she faced outwards, guests and visitors in the small dance area felt that the dance was no longer private. Two men on bar stools turned and faced her to watch. She carried on dancing. She knew she was exciting them and she could feel herself getting wet as she displayed herself in public.

The married couple on the dance floor eyed her. The man looked her up and down lasciviously, and the woman smiled and gestured to join them. She felt the jeweller's hand on her back pushing her into the dance floor towards them. The woman was dancing suggestively after dinner with her husband and she was having fun turning him on. She flirted with Gill, moving closely, gyrating suggestively, putting on a show.

Gill felt her nipples jutting through the thin satin. Before long, she was sandwiched between the couple. The woman pushed her thigh into Gills groin, and the man pressed against her from behind. She felt his erection against her bum. She felt his hands as they stroked up and down the length of her bare arms, and then went under her armpits, making her shiver, and down the side of her body, skirting her breasts. The woman's face was close. Gill felt the woman's thigh pushing against her pussy and couldn't help responding. Her pussy pushed back against the woman's thigh to the beat of the music. With each movement backwards, her bum pressed against the man's hard cock in his trousers. She felt his hands roving over the front of her body and up under her breasts. Her face was red. Her breath was coming faster.

The two men on bar stools got up and came to the edge of the dance floor for a better view. Gill turned to the three men at the table. Burt leaned forward. Mike was cooler, but couldn't remove his unblinking gaze from the sight on the floor. The jeweller sat back, looking at her lecherously. She caught his eye. "I know what a slut you are," he seemed to say. He gestured with his hand for her to come back to the table and she disengaged herself from the couple and danced over to him, obeying his command in front of everyone in the room.

When she neared the table she continued to dance in front of him. She felt his hand on the inside of her knee but carried on dancing. The hand moved up inside her thighs. She felt his fingers pulling her briefs to one side and then his thick forefinger pushing into her pussy. The jeweller fucked her gently with his finger in front of the men at the table and then pulled out quickly, making her gasp with the absence of it.

"Keep dancing," came the instruction. The jeweller held his finger up over the table for the others to see. It was soaked in her creamy juices. She wanted to cry at this public humiliation. The hand came back again. She felt it turning her around to face the room, so the man and woman and the two men could see her face.

Then she felt the jeweller's fingers from behind pushing her panties up into her pussy. She heard him laugh. He pulled the briefs down. They were wet with her cream and around her thighs, visible to everyone. The finger penetrated her from behind, but this time it went in deep and the middle finger went in, too, stretching her pussy open. The jeweller churned his thick hairy fingers round inside her as she looked out into the small dance floor and tried to dance. She went weak at the knees and buckled, but managed to pull herself up.

"Keep moving. Move your pussy on my fingers!" She obeyed. She gyrated against his fingers in front of everyone in the bar. Her pussy flooded his hand as she moved. Her breath came in pants and she couldn't help biting her lip and closing her eyes with the pleasure she felt. More people appeared on the dance floor and circled her. She sensed figures moving in the shadows and in the neighbouring booths.

She felt his thumb moving over her pussy, dipping itself in her lubricant, and then circling the tight sphincter. She turned her head to the jeweller.

"Oh, please, no," she quietly implored him. But she felt the thumb pushing into her back there, opening her, while the other fingers continued their circular motion inside her pussy. His thumb was thick. She closed her eyes. There was nowhere to hide. "Oh, fuck," she heard herself saying, as the opening gave way and the jeweller's thumb entered. The intrusion was alien. She felt the thumb working itself deeper and then rotating inside her, the base of it stretching her. When she opened her eyes, they were wide with alarm and excitement.

She couldn't dance now. Her legs kept giving way. She held out her arms for balance and felt someone take them, so she was being held up. She moved herself against the fingers. If her husband saw her now, she thought, but she carried on moving on the fingers that probed her, doing

what she was told.

She was aware of Mike making a signal, of partitions being closed off, lights dimming. Everyone was closer now. She closed her eyes again. Hands pulled the top of the dress down so her breasts fell out, exposed to the whole room. She felt them being fondled and she opened her eyes to see the woman's husband kneading them. He squeezed them and pulled on the nipples. The sensations were gorgeous and Gill didn't want it to stop. She looked at the woman and moaned with pleasure. She could feel the jeweller's fingers and thumb working on her at the same time. She was wetter than she imagined possible, and near to orgasm in front of everyone. She could feel the tremors starting. She tried to hold it back.

She felt a hand pushing her head downwards and when she was bent in half she saw in front of her a really long cock. The jeweller must have seen her expression, because she heard his vulgar voice.

"Suck it."

It was circumcised and banana shaped, with a big blue-red bell-end, which was thicker than the shaft of the cock. She lowered her face towards it and opened her mouth. Her lips enclosed the head and she wrapped her fingers round the base. She could feel it's warm softness and stiffness. She loved the feel of it in her hand and against her lips. The man pressed forward into her mouth until his cock was pushed against the back of her throat, while the old jeweller churned his fingers in her. She began to tremble with orgasm and then the jeweler pulled his fingers out and she felt the emptiness. She turned and saw him wiping them on her dress.

She was pushed backwards on the bench-type seat. Someone pulled down her panties so they dangled off her ankle. Another hand lifted her leg apart while the man climbed onto her. She felt him pushing his cock into her in front of the small crowd that had gathered, and she gasped as fat head pushed in. Gillian's breath came in rushes as the long cock reached up deep inside her body. She had never felt a cock that long, that deep.

The man's wife kneaded her breasts and pulled on her nipples and Gillian squirmed in response on the settee. Then the woman squatted down to look closely Gillian's facial expression while her husband pushed the full length of his banana shaped cock into her pussy. The woman lowered her face and kissed Gillian's full lips. The kiss was gentle at first. The woman sucked and nibbled Gillian's lips, enjoying the fullness of them, and she pushed her tongue into Gillian's mouth while her husband's cock worked in her pussy.

Gillian loved the sensations of the woman's kiss and the feeling of the man's cock pushing into her. She returned the kiss and held the woman's face in her hands to kiss her more lovingly. The woman tasted of a sweet liqueur she couldn't quite identify. She lifted her hips up to her husband as he pushed his cock deep into her. She couldn't help the pleasure she felt.

Then the woman bit Gillian's lip hard, and pulled her face back. The woman gathered saliva in her mouth and spat. Gillian felt the spit hit her cheeks and lips. She was dizzy and confused.

"Lick it up," the woman said. And Gillian obeyed. She licked her tongue around her lips and lapped up the woman's spit. The woman kissed her tenderly and then pulled back to spit again.

"What a slut," she heard.

"She loves it."

"Is that a wedding ring?" She didn't recognize the voices.

The cock ploughed deep into her now as the man humped to bring himself off. Her breasts bounced with the thrusts. She brought her hands up on his chest to push him back so he wouldn't come inside her unprotected womb but it was too late. He had built up a momentum and he kept going. He jammed his cock all the way inside her and held it there and she felt the rush of warmth as he emptied himself into her. She sobbed as he came.

"My turn," she heard and looked up to see Burt taking position. He had unbuckled his belt and undone his trousers and his pants were tucked under his cock and balls. His cock was shorter, but very much fatter, even fatter than the jeweller's. He lowered himself onto her as soon as the other man withdrew. Hands held her leg high and apart. Her pussy was drenched from her own juices and from the spunk and she felt the thick head of Burt's cock push into her easily, even though it was so thick.

He went slowly and she felt it stretching her. It hurt but it sent electric shocks through her body. She had never been stretched so much. She closed her eyes while Burt pushed all the way into her and began a slow fucking motion. It felt so good. Her hips heaved against him. Her body had a mind of its own.

She felt a hot splashing on her breasts and opened her eyes to see one of the men who had been standing at the bar shaking his cock over her. Her breasts and nipples were splattered with his cum. Her pussy flooded with her juices, and she ground harder against Burt as he fucked her. She was ashamed of her lust in front of the crowd in the room but unable to stop. She felt the hands on her ankles pulling her legs further up and back over her body so she was spread apart and completely exposed for the thick cock.

She heard cheering.

"Go on mate."

"That's the way to do it."

"She loves it," she heard.

She could feel Burt massaging her insides, changing his angle to generate new sensations in her, new cries of pleasure for the crowd to enjoy. He leaned forward to put more pressure on her clit. He was an expert. She had never been fucked like this. It was crude and animal and skilled and she just didn't care any more. She closed her eyes and gave herself to it, cumming over and over, heaving herself up against Burt's cock, and crying "Oh God, Oh God," in front of the crowd. It seemed to go on forever. She felt him building up. The thrusts were deeper and harder and then for the second time she felt the warm glow of a stranger's spunk inside her.

She felt more splashes on her breasts and on her face. She thought there would be another cock, but the jeweller stepped in. He took her hand and guided her to stand up. Her legs were jelly. She thought he was going to lead her away but he turned her to face the settee and pushed her forward so that she was kneeling, her hands on the backrest, her ass sticking out.

The crowd pulled back a little to see what would happen. Her breasts hung out, dripping the fluids that had splattered onto them. Her face was drenched with spit and semen. Her pussy dripped. She could feel them looking at her kneeling there for the jeweler and she felt herself burning under their stares. She could smell the semen on her. She felt the jeweller's thick cock rubbing up and down her pussy and his hand on her hip. He pushed it in and began to fuck her, but then he took it out and she felt the thick warm head of it pressing against her back hole.

"Oh, no. Please no," she pleaded.

She looked back at him. He was grinning. She felt the pressure of his knob pushing against her. Her anus felt relaxed after the working from his thumb and it flexed with the pressure of his cock. She was confused by its reaction. It seemed to want to let him in, but then it closed tight again. It had its own impulses. It tightened and relaxed. The jeweller just pressed his cock against it steadily.

"You'll enjoy it." The authority of his voice calmed her. He had an extraordinary hold over her. She looked around at the staring faces and saw desire burning in the eyes that stared back at her. The crowd was quiet with expectation. She felt wanton. She felt the warmth and softness of his cock head as it pushed against her anus and probed for entrance. She arched her back and pushed her ass back. The thick head popped in. She cried out and looked back at him. Her muscles tightened round the knob. She felt it holding her open. It felt so public. She could feel the eyes on her, watching her sphincter clenching this fat old man's cock.

She turned away and stared down at the red velvet of the seat and lowered her head to let him have his way. He waited and just rocked gently and she felt the head of his cock massaging the muscles in her anus. Then she felt it penetrate further. She couldn't tell how far in it was, but it felt deep. She felt it begin to hurt and reached back. The jeweller paused until she relaxed and then leaned into her again. The pushes against her continued and she felt the cock sink in further. She felt so full up.

When he began to withdraw, she felt like she was being pulled inside out. She felt it pulling out until just the head was left in, and then he sank it into her again. The nerves inside her had never experienced anything like it. The feelings were overwhelming. He pulled it out and then pushed it back in again slowly and built up the pace as her muscles relaxed.

"Oh!" she gasped, "Oh!" She looked back at him. She felt humiliated and subservient. She felt in love. Her body was covered in goose bumps. She was aware of her breasts hanging down. She could feel everyone looking at her. And she didn't care if they could see her degradation or how much she enjoyed it. She looked up at them. She saw Mike. He held a small camera in his hands and stared at the screen. She didn't care. She arched her back more and pushed her ass out to the jeweller. It felt beautiful as his cock stroked in and out, massaging her insides. She felt him pushing deeper, stroke by stroke, until his full length was buried inside her. Her breaths came in little gasps. He just rocked so that his thick cock bumped into her belly. She felt it filling her, exploring deep in her body.

"Oh God," she said. She couldn't believe what she was feeling.

Then he pulled out completely, and left her open and exposed to the room. She desperately wanted it back inside. Her eyes implored him to put his cock back.

"Please," she said. She was aware of a man pushing forward urgently. He shoved his cock up to her face and let it explode. She felt the warmth of the cum on her cheeks and her nose and dripping down over her lips, but she carried on looking at the jeweller, imploring him to put his cock back inside her. She arched her back and pushed her ass back as far as she could, begging with her body, and then she felt it against her opening again.

He pushed in the full length and held it there deep in her ass to keep her stretched open on the thick base of it. Then he pulled it out almost fully and pushed it back in again. His heavy balls slapped her pussy. She didn't care about the staring crowd. She liked them looking at her. She wanted it. She was lost. She was a slut for him, she knew. She returned his movements, grinding back on his cock. She felt come splatter on her shoulders and back. A cock presented itself to her mouth and she opened her lips and took it in. The man fucked her mouth for no more than few seconds then held her head and released into her throat.

She could feel the jeweller's cock pounding deep inside her and she could feel her own orgasm approaching as he built up to cum. She touched her clit and heaved herself back on his cock, giving herself to him and sobbing "Oh fuck. Fuck me. Oh fuck me, fuck me," with pleasure and sorrow. She heard someone laugh but she carried on bucking back against the jeweller as her orgasm took hold, and her body heaved and shook and she felt his warm semen squirting deep inside her.

- -0- -

She woke with the dim sound of traffic outside and the morning brightness that filled the room. She could hear people moving about in the corridor. She opened her eyes and looked about her at the hotel furnishings. Her heavily stained dress was draped over a chair with her tanga briefs and bra and her bag.

She remembered the crowd dispersing, and being led into the lift, walking past people with her panties and bra in her hand. She remembered standing in the shower, and she put her hand down to feel herself. More fluid had seeped out of her during the night, and her pussy and thighs were wet.

She would need clothes to get home. She picked up the phone on the bedside table and pressed 0.

Back to T Collection :::::|::::: Back to main page