Abbey's Week	Back to Q	Back to main page

Collected by Djian

Please read the first segment Abbey's Weekend

Abbey's Week
By Charm Brights

(c) 2002 Charmbrights Ltd. All rights reserved.

The author has asserted the moral rights under sections 77 and 78 of the
Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All the main characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance
between Abby or Nigel or any other character in this story and real
people, living or dead, is wholly a matter of Nature imitating Art.

Il Cortile is, in the author's humble opinion the finest Italian
restaurant in the world.

If you have not read Abbey's Weekend then this story won't make
much sense at the start. Just accept that Abbey 'entertained' Nigel while
she was moonlighting, just for the fun of it, as a prostitute in Brussels
during a madcap weekend. Those who have read Abbey's Weekend can start at
the second segment Tuesday Afternoon.

Tuesday - Afternoon

Nigel lived in a spacious flat in one of the mews close to Harrods in a
fashionable part of London. The door was open when they arrived and a
woman of indeterminate age was busy polishing the brass door knocker.

'Could be anything from twenty-five to fifty,' thought Abby.

"This is Mrs. Prentis," said Nigel, "She looks after me."

"How do you do?" said Abby, politely.

"Hmmf," was the only reply as Mrs. Prentis returned to her labours.

When they were inside, Nigel said, "The bedroom is there and the
bathroom is through there. I expect you'll want to freshen up first."

As she went gratefully into the bathroom, Abby wondered about that
"first", 'What does he expect "second"? And will he expect it before or after
dinner?'

A frisson of anticipation went through her nipples and clitoris as she
remembered his excellent mutton dagger and thought, 'Or both, before
and after?'

It took her some time to decide how to approach the evening. After all
Nigel had fucked her in Brussels, so they were hardly strangers, yet
they had spent only a few hours together and she had no idea how he would
react. She thought he expected her to stay the night with him, and she would
be happy to do so, but she did not want to scare him off by seeming to be
too forward. Really, she could not read the signals in this unusual
situation.

In the end she thought, 'In for a penny, in for a pound,' and came out
of the bathroom wrapped only in the huge fluffy bath sheet.

Nigel was in the living room when she wandered in and asked, "Could I
have a drink, please? Tonic Water or something will be fine."

"Of course," he replied, "Gin in it?"

"Not really, thanks. It's a bit early for me and we did have wine with
lunch on the train."

As he passed her the glass of Tonic Water, she 'accidentally' let the
towel slip a little so that one bare breast was visible for a few moments
before she grabbed it again, almost spilling her drink.

Nigel took the drink back and murmured, "Allow me."

Putting the drink on the coffee table beside the sofa, he took hold of
the edge of the bath sheet as though to refasten it, but carefully unwound
it to leave her standing in the middle of the floor stark naked. This was
done so slowly that Abby knew he was making sure she didn't object.

Then he picked up the glass and handed it to her, saying, "Now you
won't spill it," and sat on the sofa contemplating her body.

Abby smiled and drank half the glass. Putting it down she sat beside
him and stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. Nigel reached out
very tentatively and drew her close to him, stroking her back with one hand
while the other smoothed her hair away from her face. This tenderness was
too much for her, after the stress of the weekend and she burst into tears.
He held her to him and stroked her hair and patted her back while she
sobbed and sobbed. Then he started laughing quietly.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"I was just thinking how incongruous we would look to an outsider, me
fully dressed and you naked, sitting like this on my settee."

Then she too saw the funny side of it and started to laugh with him.
They were both helpless with giggling laughter like a couple of children
until he gently lifted her chin and kissed her firmly on the lips. As her mouth
opened to welcome his tongue, he cupped one breast and stroked the
nipple into arousal. Once he was confident that this was permitted, he laid
her gently back on the sofa and dipped his head to kiss first the engorged
nipple and then between her thighs. As his tongue caught a sensitive
spot her thighs opened a little and before she fully realised what was
happening she was rising to a glorious climax and giving tongue enthusiastically.

"Yes, yes, yes! More, more, please," her voice rose an octave into a
wordless scream of pleasure.

After she recovered her senses she stood up and pulled Nigel to his
feet.

"I don't know what you expected from your dinner invitation, and I
don't think I knew either. Now I know I want to return that favour and have
you come under my ministrations. Please, can we adjourn to a bed?" she
asked, still a little uncertain of her position.

"Of course," said Nigel and led her into the bedroom.

Quickly she started to undress him and between them they had him naked
in seconds. Pushing him backwards on to the bed, Abby knelt beside him
and took his rampant cock in her hand. Bending forwards, she licked the
tip of it as she pulled the purple circumcised helmet into her waiting mouth.
Judging from the bucking of his hips, she was doing the right thing.
In seconds he came and she did her best to swallow all his outpourings,
but some spilled from her mouth on to his belly.

"Naughty me," she said, winsomely, "I've spilt some."

"Never mind; there are ..." Nigel's reassurance was cut off as she
dipped her head and licked his semen off his skin, continuing until there was
none left and then licking his half shrivelled penis also until it had to be
clean again.

As she did so, it grew again, and she said, "Ready for more are we?
Well he can wait. I'm shattered and would really like to have a nap."

"Shall I go?" asked Nigel.

"It's your place," she replied, "You decide whether to go or stay, but
I'm going to sleep."

Within seconds she was sleeping and Nigel discreetly withdrew.

Tuesday - Evening

"Where would you like to go for dinner?" asked Nigel.

"You mentioned a place near here that you like," Abby answered,
cautiously, "What kind of food do they do?"

"Italian. Carlo is very good, and his brother-in-law has a restaurant
in Venice."

"That sounds fine. I could use a good meal after this afternoon's
excitement, to build me up for later, perhaps?" she teased, "I once had
a really nice meal in Venice, but that was a long time ago."

After they had finished, Carlo came over with the bill and asked if
they had enjoyed their meal.

"Yes, it was lovely," said Abby, "I particularly liked the beef and
onions in the Venetian style. I haven't had that since I was in Venice three
years ago."

"Might I ask where you had that?" inquired Carlo.

"I was taken to dinner at a fabulous restaurant near St. Mark's Square
and we had it there. They specialise in it."

Carlo thought for a moment and then asked, "Did you like to see the
little sparrows swooping down to steal sugar from the tables?"

"Yes," said Abby, smiling at the memory, "Do you know the restaurant?"

"My brother-in-law is the padrone of Il Cortile on 22 Marzo which is
reputed to be the best restaurant in all Italy," he answered with pride, "And
the speciality of the house is beef and onions. Did you wish at the well?"

"Yes, and it came true, for I found Nigel who brought me here for
heavenly food again," she said.

"I thank you signorina, for the compliment," said Carlo gravely and
swept away, only to return a few moments later with the chef, who presented
her with a piece of paper.

When she examined the note in the taxi as they returned to Nigel's
flat, it was a recipe, all in Italian, for the dish she had so much enjoyed.

"I'm looking forward to eating again soon," she whispered to Nigel.

"Already?" he asked, "We only just ate."

"I'm looking forward to tasting a mutton dagger later tonight," she
replied, making him blush deeply.

This confirmed her earlier impression that Nigel, well-endowed although
he was, was very inexperienced. She would see to that, she thought; he
had real possibilities. When they got back to his flat they wasted no time
undressing each other and fell on to the bed in a mad frenzied humping
sand pumping which had Nigel cumming in seconds and Abby close behind.

In bed a few minutes later, Abby asked, "Is there anything special you want?
It always best to say what we like to each other, then we can find out what is
best for both of us."

As she stroked his limp penis gently, it twitched slightly as he said,
"Well ... if I can ask for anything I want, I have always wondered about the
other way."

"The other way?" she teased, feigning innocence, "Do you mean doggy
style?"

"Not exactly, but that might be easiest," he stammered, blushing.

"Oh," said Abby, "You mean you want to bugger me?"

Nigel spluttered in embarrassment as she leapt up and knelt on the bed
with her head and shoulders on the pillow and reached back and spread her
arse-cheeks wide so that the darker entrance was presented to him. In
spite of his embarrassment, the invitation had roused his flagging tool and
so he thrust it deep into the proffered portal.

"Oh," he said in surprise, "That's so hot."

"I like it too," said Abby, realising that Nigel was excited by the
thought of being naughty. "Now darling, please fuck my arse hard. Sodomise me
into tomorrow."

Soon enough her bowels were filled with his hot effusions and they
collapsed on the bed drained. Sleep came quickly for both of them.

Wednesday - Morning

When Nigel woke it was to the delightful sensation of a pair of
feminine lips kissing their way along the underside of his erect penis.
Inevitably he reacted by grabbing her hair and fucking her face hard. She just
managed to stop him in time, and straddled him, mounting his prick for the few
seconds it took to tip them both over the edge into another satisfying
mutual orgasm.

After a leisurely breakfast, Nigel said, "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," said Abby, "but you can ask something else as well if
you like."

Then she burst into peals of laughter at Nigel's puzzled expression.
He wasn't too bright it seemed.

"Well, I don't want to offend you, but ..."

He broke off.

"Go on, ask me," said Abby, "After all we know each other pretty well
by now, don't we?"

"Well. No, not really. That's why I wanted to ask. Do you really
like all the ... the fancy stuff ... in bed? Sucking and so on? Because if you
don't, you don't have to do it."

He blushed again furiously.

"Did you like it when I sucked you off and swallowed your cum?" Abby
asked him, "Or does it embarrass you?"

"Oh, no. It seemed odd at first but it is ever so pleasant. I just
thought girls didn't usually like that sort of thing?" he answered with total
seriousness.

"To put it crudely, I like to be filled by a man in any of my holes,"
said Abby, "I sometimes think I was made purely for sexual pleasure. Some
girls say that to have a man in their mouth tastes vile, but I like it; some
say it hurts to have a man up their bum, but it excites me. Don't worry
about me; I'll tell you fast enough if anything isn't what I want."

Nigel was obviously disconcerted by this, and so she continued, "Tell
me what you want and we can try it. Hadn't you been sucked before, or
been up a girl's arse?"

"No," said Nigel, "I had read about it, and at school some of the boys
said they did it, but I didn't believe them."

"Well then, you have a great treat to come when you're ready to try
again sober, so that you remember it all," declared Abby, "perhaps this
afternoon?"

"Gosh, you really are insatiable, aren't you?" he replied and she threw
her serviette at him.

Wednesday - Afternoon

"Ease him in gently," said Abby as she crouched on all fours on the bed.

Behind her, Nigel, naked, with an erection like a baseball bat covered
in Vaseline, was trying to get it into her arse, without much success.

"Every time I put him there, he slips off," he complained.

"Your problem," said Abby, "Use your hand to guide him in. Nobody will
smack your wrist for touching your Willie."

Soon it slid in, but Abby could tell that it wasn't as exciting for him
as it had been the night before.

'Is he tiring of me so soon?' she wondered, 'I really think I could get
to like him. Of course, he first saw me in a brothel so he probably
thinks I'm really only a tart.'

Then she settled down to pushing back on to his prick, but it was no
good, he didn't achieve an orgasm until they had turned round and he was
safely jetting into her womb again.

As they parted, they arranged to meet on Saturday for lunch. Abby
wondered whether Nigel didn't want to see her again before then because he had
really had enough of her, but was at least grateful for some time to herself,
if only to let her sore orifices recover.

Saturday - Lunch

After an excellent lunch, Nigel suddenly looked worried.

"What's the matter, darling?" asked Abby.

"I was just wondering ..." he fell silent.

"What?" she encouraged.

"Well ... some of the gang are coming over from Brussels tonight for a
few days. We were going out on the town, as a stag group," again he fell
silent.

"And?" asked Abby, guessing that she was to be told she wouldn't be
welcome in an all-boys-together group.

"And I wondered ..."

"Spit it out," said Abby, "I won't be offended."

She was wrong, on both counts.

"Well, if you're sure. I wondered if you would mind one or two of the
others sharing you tonight," he said in a great rush, and then blushed
deeply.

Abby didn't know what to say. This week had been so pleasant and so
loving that she had begun to think that here was a really nice man to be with
for as long as he wanted, and now he was proposing to let his mates fuck
her.

'Well,' she mused, 'I was working in a brothel when he first met me,
and he has no way of knowing that it was my only time. If he doesn't care,
why should I?'

Aloud she said, "Is that what you really want?"

"I th-think so," he stammered, "If you don't mind, that is."

"That depends on you, and on the arrangements," she said briskly,
deciding that their budding relationship had just died, so she would salvage
what she could from the wreckage, and maybe, just maybe, manage a little revenge
in to the bargain.

"Well, I thought we might just stay in tonight, have a few drinks and
see where it leads," said Nigel, still deeply embarrassed.

"No good," said Abby, "If I am to entertain your friends, I want a
damned good dinner at a top restaurant first. Then we can go back to your
place. No sadism or pain is acceptable, but all and any kind of sex is OK.
How many of them are there?"

She was enjoying his discomfiture.

"Four. Four, and me."

"Four," she confirmed, "but you get nothing. Four is plenty. And
you'll have to ask me really nicely."

"Please will you do it?" he whispered, and then seeing her look of
scorn he added, "Pretty please."

"That's not what I meant," she snapped, "How much?"

Nigel looked shocked.

"But I thought ..."

She interrupted him with a curt, "Well you thought wrong."

He was silent for a moments and Abby resolved to bargain hard.

"Would five hundred pounds be enough?" he asked.

"Yes, I think so. Yes five hundred will be enough. That's two
thousand for the four of them," she answered.

Nigel sighed, reflecting that he had thought this a bad idea when his
friends had suggested it.

"No, not each. Perhaps a thousand all together," he said taking his
chequebook out.

"Cash," she said, "in advance."

Nigel sighed again, "All right, but it had better be good."

"Oh, darling," she said with an affected accent, "Wouldn't it be better
if it was naughty? Now you pop out and get the money and then we'll plan
the evening."

It took Nigel about twenty minutes to get into town and draw the requisite
cash from the bank's hole-in-the-wall machine, and he wondered as he
let himself back into the flat whether Abby would still be there. She was
lounging on the sofa with a tumbler of clear liquid in her hand,
wearing only her brassière and thong knickers.

"Here's your money," said Nigel, "Are you sure about this? It could
get a bit boisterous."

"Well, what I thought was, you could all take me out to dinner," said
Abby, carefully putting the money in her handbag, " and then we could come
back here. When we get here I'll excuse myself and go and change in the
bedroom into an outfit that might please them. Then I'll come out and dance
for them; I thought seven veils? Then we'll see what happens. You can be
MC and control the others; I don't want them fighting over me."

"Well ..." said Nigel but she cut him off.

"You're getting nothing tonight, darling, but you can have me until
four o'clock. Then I'm off to get ready and I'll be here at seven. Is that
OK?"

"Well ..." said Nigel again and she waited.

When it was obvious that he wasn't going to continue she decided that
sarcasm was the order of the day and asked, "What's wrong with the
well? I didn't know you had one?"

"No ... But ..." he stammered.

"Look Nigel. I worked for a few hours as a prostitute in Brussels last
week-end. I'm sure I can do it again. If you don't like the idea we can
scrap it, but if you've promised your friends I'll stand by your promise.
No sadists are allowed remember, and I can handle the sex. I'll handle
yours now if you want?" she said, suiting her actions to her words.

As she slid the zip on his trousers down he pushed her hand away.

"N-no thanks," he said.

"Oh, Nigel, make your mind up. It doesn't make any difference to our
relationship if I fuck your mates or not."

Nigel winced at her use of the four-letter word and asked, "Why doesn't
it make any difference?"

"Because, you silly noodle," she said "any chance of a relationship
other than pimp and prostitute went out of the window when you suggested, in
your coy little words, 'sharing' me with your friends. Swinging is for
established couples, not for the first week-end of a new relationship,
and not with an all-male group. Now are you coming in the bedroom or not?
If not I'll dress and go to get ready."

Nigel stared at her retreating naked back as she undulated into the
bedroom.He took a pace or two forwards and then stopped.

Muttering "Oh, shit, why not?" under his breath he followed her into
the bedroom and unclipped her brassière.

"There," she said, turning to him, "That wasn't difficult at all, now
was it?"

Soon they were on the bed, making the two-backed beast in the time
honoured missionary position.

Just as Nigel was on the point of coming, Abby whispered cruelly in his
ear, "Sam, the ceiling needs painting," and collapsed into a fit of the giggles.

The effect this had on her muscles had Nigel erupting inside her in no
time.
In turn his hot offering inside her triggered her orgasm and she came
spectacularly and very vocally.

Saturday - Evening

During the afternoon, Abby spent some time wondering what to wear, and
then fell back on her old faithful black long evening dress. Under it she
wore nothing; the lack of knickers wouldn't show, but the lack of a
brassière would be obvious to anyone who came close to her, especially if he were
tall enough to see down the front of her gown. She packed her "seven veils"
outfit, in reality a collection of large silk head-scarves, into an
overnight bag.

Prompt at seven o'clock Abby rang the door bell to Nigel's flat
wondering,not for the first time, what she was letting herself in for.

"Do come in and meet the boys," said Nigel, taking her bag, "I'll put
this in the bedroom shall I?"

"Thank you," she murmured and moved into the living-room.

The four men in there seemed very respectable,, dressed as they were in
black tie and dinner jackets. Then Abby realised they were the same
four who had been with Nigel outside the brothel in Brussels the week
before.

The tallest stepped forward and said, "Hullo, you must be Abby. I'm
Trevor, and these are Crispin, Julian and Charles."

They each gravely shook hands with her, and she realised they were, if
anything, more nervous than she.

Taking the initiative, she smiled at them and said, "Well, where are
you taking me for dinner? And are you sure you want the night's hired
entertainer eating at the same table you?"

Trevor was the first to recover from the shock of her frankness, and
regained control with, "Not a problem; we're very democratic. Dinner
is at the Savoy; we were told you wanted the best. Now may we please see a
preview of what we are getting? I can't quite remember the details
from last weekend."

"You may look but not touch, before dinner," said Abby, "That was the
deal."

Lifting the skirt of her evening dress well above her head she showed
them that underneath she was completely nude below the waist. She held that
pose for a few seconds and then dropped into a deep curtsey which gave them
an eyeful of her naked breasts as the front of her bodice fell forwards.

Rising again she said, "There. Now you have seen more details than
last weekend, and I hope your memories will last you until after dinner."

During dinner they chatted amiably, almost like a group of old friends
out for dinner, but always Abby was conscious of an undercurrent of tension
among the four men who were to share her later.

In the taxi back to Nigel's there was a certain amount of joshing and
horseplay, but nobody touched Abby. In the flat she quickly slipped into
the bedroom and put on her seven veils outfit. She had made this for a
fancy dress party the year before but then she had worn a bikini under the
veils. This time she was nude, and when the last veil came off she
would be left only with the Alice band in her hair which held the veils in place
and a pair of high-heeled shoes. As she put the veils in place, she was
conscious that the five men in the next room were drinking again and
becoming quite rowdy. The four visitors were taunting Nigel about his
rôle in providing the evening's entertainment.

As she re-entered the living room she was slightly frightened by the
whoops of welcome she received and the looks of lust printed across the
faces of her evening's 'customers'. Quickly she set the tape running and
started to dance for them. The veils came off quite slowly and were draped
across the watchers and she discarded them. Each time anyone tried to grab
her she managed to elude the questing hands. As the last veil fell to the
floor she posed for a few seconds and then turned and ran into the bedroom.
There she discarded her Alice band and shoes, and lay on the bed to await her
first fucking of the evening.

It was some moments before the door opened and Nigel sidled into the
room.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked.

"You're the Master of Ceremonies. Send in whoever is first and we can
get on with me servicing your friends. After all that's why you paid me
isn't it?" she snapped. Feeling very nervous now about the whole thing.

"They thought you would be out there where they could all watch?" said
Nigel.

"Oh, no. I don't mind them watching but I'm not being fucked on the
floor or an awkward sofa. I'm going to be on this comfortable bed, so send
them in here, and naked please. If they are going to watch I want to see
whether they are enjoying it."

Nigel went out and she could hear the muffled sounds of a heated
discussion for a minute or two. Then it all went quiet and a few moments later
four naked young men came into the room, all with their penises showing a
distinct droop. Nigel slipped in behind them, still wearing his white shirt
and dress trousers.

Abby looked at them and realised they were more nervous than she.
Taking advantage of that she asked, "Who's got the condoms?"

They all looked at each other foolishly, so she got off the bed and
went over to Trevor.

Grabbing his penis she tweaked it and said, "Fucking with no condom is
fifty quid extra, each. Somebody go and get some condoms or £200."

The young men looked at each other and then one of them sidled out of
the room, returning shortly afterwards with a sheaf of banknotes in his
hand. Without checking them Abby pushed them into her purse and straightened
up.

With a beaming smile she said brightly, "I'd better harden those pricks
up a bit first hadn't I?"

Taking the one who had just given her the extra money by the penis she led
him over to the bed. Sitting down, she bent and took him in her mouth,
rolling his prick around with her tongue; then she started to lick
along the underside of it and was pleased to see that it firmed up nicely.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see that the other three were much
encouraged by the sight of her sucking their friend and Trevor had started
to masturbate gently.

Releasing the prick in her mouth she turned towards him and said,
"Naughty, naughty. I'm here to deal with that for you."

Lying back on the bed with her head hanging over the foot she motioned
to them to gather round.

"Trevor, fuck me, one of you let me suck him and the other two I'll
wank. Nobody will last long this time so we can save the refinements for
later."

Suiting her actions to her words she grabbed a prick in each hand and
started to pump them vigorously. Trevor was quickly on the bed and had
her legs up on his shoulders as he drove into her. She had barely got the
fourth prick settled in her mouth when a great grunt from Trevor signalled
the inundation of her womb with his first cumming of the evening. The two
being wanked did not last long either and the sight of jets of semen
spurting across her tits set off the prick in her mouth and she had to
swallow rather quickly to avoid gagging on the hot jism erupting into
her throat.

As the boys recovered, Abby wiped her breasts with a towel and said
brightly, "Now who's next for my cunt?"

None of them could raise a hard enough prick at this point so she sat them
in a row on the edge of the bed and went back and forth along the row
licking and sucking and tweaking until there were four reasonable
erections in view.

"With four of you we have one too many. I only have three holes so somebody
just gets wanked each time," said Abby, then added cheerily, "But I expect
one of you will be worn our soon enough. Trevor, you've had me once so
you're the odd one out this time round."

Laying one of the young men down, Abby straddled him and slid his penis
firmly where nature intended. The she leant forward on to his chest and
wiggled her arse in the air. One of the others climbed over his friend's
legs and slid into her arse.

'It's a good job I oiled that in the bathroom,' she thought, 'They haven't
the first idea about making it easier for the woman.'

The third penis was duly put in her mouth and the fourth rested in her left
hand. As she started to move, so did they, and it took a moment or two for
them to settle down into a rhythm. Surprisingly it was Trevor who came
first, spraying the side of her head with quite a respectable amount of
jism. As he did so, Abby saw Nigel sidle out of the room with a strained
expression on his face.

'Well he suggested this,' she thought, 'If he doesn't like it he can
do the other thing.'

The man in her arse was next and his flooding of her bowels set her off for
her first orgasm of the evening. After that things got a bit blurred until
she found herself coming down from an almost continuous stream of
orgasms to see the four standing round the bed, wilting badly.

"Can you do one more for me?" she asked, "Just wank until you come
again on my body, please. Pretty please?"

Almost resignedly the four thoroughly satiated young men took up the
challenge.

Saturday - Night

As the last of them came in a pitiful dribble over her breasts, Abby got up
off the bed, walked out into the living room still dribbling cum from her
cunt and arse, and with both tits covered in it, and went over to where
Nigel was sitting disconsolately with a tumbler of whisky.

"Hullo, darling," she said in a mock-bright voice, "The children are all
ready to go to sleep. Do you want to lick this mess off me, or shall I
take a shower?"

Nigel looked at her in disgust.

"Just shower and go," he said coldly.

"Sure you don't want to stir the porridge in my cunt or arse?" she
asked.

Nigel merely pointed at the bathroom door. Abby had a lingering luxurious
shower and dressed. When she came out of the bathroom Nigel had not
moved, though the whisky level in the bottle was much lower. Abby rang a
local taxi firm which she knew had only women drivers and accepted only women
passengers.

Some minutes later the doorbell rang and she said to Nigel, bitterly,
"That'll be my taxi. You've got my number if you need me to service
any other friends."

As she settled back in the taxi the enormity of what she had done hit her,
and she started to cry.

"Bad night, love?" asked the taxi driver, a fair haired woman somewhat older
than Abby, with a little-girl-lost look which came from her round open face,
big blue eyes, and small turned-up nose.

"Not really," said Abby, "It was all my fault."

"They always try to make you feel like that, love. They're all the
same. Men!"

"No, he didn't say it. I did. I let four of his friends fuck me tonight
..." she broke off in more sobs.

"And he caught you?" asked the driver.

"No. He organised it. The bad bit is I made them pay me."

"What's bad about that?"

Abby stared at her.

"Make 'em all pay, I say," the taxi driver said vehemently, "We carry
the can for their pleasures. Make 'em pay. How much did they give you?"

"Twelve hundred," said Abby distractedly.

"Hey. Why are you so sad? I'd fuck ten men in an evening for a twelve
hundred pounds, and I don't even like men. Do you know what I earn on
this job? Two hundred in a good week, that's what."

Abby subsided a bit and sat morosely thinking of her mistakes of the last
two weeks; first the disaster with Mark, and then the mess she had
made of her relationship with Nigel.

'I don't suppose it could have worked. After all he first saw me in a
brothel when he was one of my customers,' she thought and burst into
tears again.

"Here you are, love," said the taxi driver, kindly, "Now let Helen help
you get home safe."

Together they went up in the lift to Abby's flat, with Helen supporting
her almost all the way. Opening the door was tricky but eventually Helen
deposited the weeping Abby on the sofa.

"You going to be OK?" she asked, "Or shall I stay a bit, and put the
kettle on?"

Abby looked up uncomprehending.

"You just sit there and I'll put the kettle on, love."

Abby just nodded in a distracted way. Helen went into the kitchen and
started to make tea. While she waited for the water to boil, she rang her
office and signed off for the night. This one, she fancied something
rotten, and she was in no condition to resist Helen's advances.

Returning to the living-room with a cup of hot sweet tea, she said
brightly, "Drink this. It'll do you a power of good."

Abby took it and drank it like a zombie.

"There, now let's get you to bed, love," said Helen, lifting Abby
gently to her feet and helping her into the bedroom.

In the bedroom, Helen proceeded to remove Abby's clothes in a very
distant and nurse-like manner, as though she had no interest whatever in the
body being revealed to her. Then she moved away and looked admiringly at
the young girl. Taking her hand, Helen led her to the bed and laid her
gently on it, on her back. Finally, she kissed Abby firmly on the lips, and
probed gently with her tongue; Abby's mouth opened almost automatically at
first, but then she pushed Helen away and turned away, crying again. Helen
stood up and walked over to the door, turning the light off. Turning back to
look at the young body on the bed, illuminated only by reflected light from
the hall, Helen quickly stripped off all her own clothes.

"What you need now, love, is some TLC in the way only a woman can
offer. Shall I stay and cuddle you tonight?"

Before Abby could answer, Helen said, "Shall we start something like this?"

Walking over to Abby, Helen ran her hand up and down her arm and put her
mouth close to Abby's ear and whispered, "Do you like to have your
pussy eaten?"

By now Helen's hand was roaming all over Abby's body and was lightly
stroking her nipples, and with a stronger voice Helen asked again, "Do
you like getting your pussy eaten?"

Abby could only stare and whisper, "I did when Nigel did it."

Helen kissed her again, and this time Abby's arms came round her neck and
their tongues met in a passionate dance.

Knowing that she now had complete control, Helen commented, "You've got
nice tits, bitch; now let's see the arse."

Soon Abby was lying face down, totally naked, on the bed. Turning back
over under Helen's direct gaze, Abby realised that she was examining her as
the men had in Brussels when they were deciding whether to buy her
services!

"Mm. Perfect for sixty-nining," the older woman commented.

"But I've never been with a woman," said Abby, "What IS sixty-nining?"

"It's when we give each other pleasure as only two women can," said
Helen, "I make you come at the same moment that you make me, with our tongues.
I'll show you."

"Y-yes," faltered Abby, "but it sounds very nasty."

"You've sucked men's pricks often enough, haven't you, Abby?" asked
Helen encouragingly, "and I'm sure you could taste yourself on them
sometimes. So it can't be that bad, can it?"

Abby nodded doubtfully.

"Anyway, my cunt is nice and clean and regularly shaved," boasted
Helen, "Quite different from yours. Who knows where your sensitive spots are
hiding in that great tuft you wear?"

Abby hadn't noticed before that Helen's belly was deliberate shaved.
Her own red-gold pubic thatch was short and neat, in spite of Helen's
insult, so her the cunt-lips were easily seen, and being put on display made a
shiver run through Abby's body, though she could not have said whether it was
excitement or fear at the prospect of a lesbian encounter. She had heard of
these things at work, but they were not considered 'nice' behaviour and
were not much discussed. She had no idea what two women could or would do
to each other though, she thought, perhaps they could use their thumbs as
small penises.

What Abby couldn't hide, however, was the moisture that was building up
along the edge of her cunt, so when Helen reached out and ran her
finger through Abby's slit her comment was, "I love the smell of fresh pussy,"
while sticking her finger into Abby and then licking the juice off her
own hand!

Abby was now getting very worked up by Helen's light caresses and began to
get into the swing of this new activity. Pushing Abby down into a chair,
Helen thrust her shaven cunt towards Abby's face, and just looking at it
made Abby feel weak with desire. She really couldn't understand why she
found a woman so attractive, and a stranger at that. Abby stood up and the
two women moved together letting their nipples meet and touch while Helen
put her arms around Abby and gave her a kiss, probing with her tongue as a
man might, causing her to moan as she was being eased gently into a state of
increasing desire! Helen pushed Abby's legs wider and started to suck her
hot cunt until her face was shining with Abby's love juice. Finding Abby's
lovebud, Helen nibbled and sucked it as though it was the last thing she
would ever put into her mouth.

Just when Abby felt her orgasm building, Helen pulled away and slid her own
cunt over Abby's face while demanding, "Eat me, slave, suck my fucking
cunt!"

The aroma coming from Helen's dripping cunt was intoxicating to Abby, and
her tongue seemed to slide of its own accord through the sopping slit
between her cunt-lips until it found a very erect clitoris trying to push
its way to heaven! Helen had a truly magnificent lovebud, and Abby's lips
caressed it with tender kisses and licks, much as she would a man's prick.
As Abby licked, she felt Helen again back at her own lovebud as both girls
rapidly surged towards a climax! Each of them was moaning into the other's
vagina!

Abby was amazed at what she was doing, but she was even more amazed at how
she loved licking and sucking Helen's cunt! Each of them reached their peak
at exactly the same time, and both of their cunts twitched frantically as
sexual relief coursed through their bodies! Afterwards they lay in a heap
on top of each other, neither one moving, just slowly inhaling the smell of
drenched cunt!

As she fell asleep, Abby thought inconsequentially, 'I wonder if women
visit the windows in Brussels as customers?'

Sunday - Morning

When Abby woke the next morning, she realised there was someone else in bed
with her, but couldn't remember for a moment or two what had happened. Then
it all came flooding back, Nigel's friends, the orgy, the fear she had felt
as they became more inebriated, crying on the taxi driver's shoulder.

Looking at the sleeping woman in her bed she saw a fair haired woman of
about 35, about 5' 4" with a round open face. As she woke, Abby saw a pair
of big blue eyes and a small turned-up nose, which gave her a
little-girl-lost look somewhat marred by the beginnings of wrinkles by her
ears and an overall impression of fading, like a photograph which has been
left in the sun for too long. As she sat up her breasts were quite large
but had started to sag, the prominent nipples were dark brown and just
beginning to erect.

As Abby stared at the woman, Helen said in a motherly tone, "It's all right,
my dear. I know you aren't one of us and I won't embarrass you. Last night
you needed someone and I enjoyed comforting you; today you want me out of
your life. I understand."

"No," said Abby, "I don't know what I want. Thank you for last night;
I did need you then and this morning ..."

Her voice tailed off. With an obvious effort she pulled herself together
and said briskly, "Would you like some breakfast, or do you have to
rush off? I'm starving."

Helen looked her straight in the eye and said evenly, "I don't start work
until four this afternoon. Let's just have breakfast and then we can talk."



Who knows where that might lead?

Abby's Weekend

By Charm Brights

(c) 2002 Charmbrights Ltd. All rights reserved.

The author has asserted the moral rights under sections 77 and 78 of the
Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All the main characters in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance
between Abby, Charles and Mark and real people, living or dead, is wholly a
matter of Nature imitating Art. There is no such country as Belgium.
However the horse steaks in Le Royale at Scaerbeek really are superb, and
rue Aerschot is on the eastern side of the railway going north from
Bruxelles Nord station.

Monday - A Weekend Away?

Abby closed her PC down and pushed her chair away from the desk. It had
been a foul day with nothing going right, clients not there when she rang
them, her PC had frozen TWICE, the boss had ignored her; what a horror of a
day, typical Monday. Well, on the way home she would drop into the Golden
Sovereign and have a drink with some of the other brokers she knew.
The "GS" was the latest in place to be seen if you sold bonds and stocks,
as she did, and she knew many of her friends would be there.

As she walked in, several of her friends waved and she made her way to
the bar, sitting on one of the stools and surveying the scene. In one
corner were some of her bosses and those she decided to ignore. On the far
side of the bar was a group of about eight or ten people, most of whom were
'her crowd', so she told Alfredo, the barman, to bring her a bottle of
Chardonnay and wandered over to join them. Someone was celebrating something,
because a glass of Champagne was pressed into her hand just as Alfredo arrived
with her Chardonnay.

"What's the occasion?" she asked one of the girls.

"Mark's celebrating splitting up from Felicity," came the reply.

Abby thought for a moment then remembered Mark, a rich young
man-about-town, perhaps a year or two older than her own 25, who never seemed to do
much but always had lots of money. She couldn't remember meeting Felicity as
such, but Mark had a succession of girls on his arm, some of whom were
rumoured to be call girls from escort agencies.

Just then a voice asked, "Isn't my champers good enough then? Buying
your own Chardonnay in preference is a bit off."

She turned and there was Mark himself, a smile belying the peevish tone
of voice; evidently he was only teasing.

"Oh, do have some," she invited him, "I ordered it before I joined your
little harem."

There were, she had noticed, only girls in the group, except for Mark.

"I was just telling the girls that I'm off to Brussels for a weekend on
Thursday, but now Felicity's gone I have nobody to take," he raised his
voice a little, "The offer is still there, girls. Thursday to
Brussels, good food, good booze, lots of both, opera, art, whatever you fancy.
Back on Wednesday. Of course, being as I'm very hard up I can only afford
one bed which the two of us would have to share, but it is in a suite at
the Gastropole. Any takers?"

Turning back to Abby he added, "They all prefer to work, or I smell, or
something. I'll have to take an Escort Agency girl I suppose,
otherwise the weekend will be a real drag."

Suddenly Abby heard herself say, "I'll come, if you like."

Mark turned to her and looked her over for a moment, then said, "If
you're sure?"

Abby thought for a moment; she had no boy-friend at the moment, she
had tried most forms of sex and enjoyed them all, she loved good food and
wine, and she had never been to Brussels.

"Yes, I'm sure," she replied, conscious of the envious looks from some
of the others.

Later, as she was ready to leave, Mark said, "Hang on a moment and I'll
give you a lift home. We can sort out the details for the weekend on the
way."

"It's all right, I can -" her voice tailed off as she realised she was
applying her rule of never accepting a lift from someone she did not
know well to a man she had just agreed to go with for a wild weekend abroad.

His car surprised her. She had expected something sporting, a Morgan
or a Lotus or something like that, but it was an old, very graceful and
expensive-looking dark green Jaguar. They drove in silence for a
while, and then she turned and looked at him.

"I will come, you know," she said.

"I could take an Escort Agency girl, if you'd rather. You really want
to come with me? Even though I shall want to fuck your cunt, mouth and
arse; probably piss on you; ignore you when I'm not in the mood; demand
your body when you're not in the mood; and lend you to friends during
the weekend?"

His crude language startled Abby, but she thought he was right to use
it; it was best to be completely clear what the rules were before they got
to Brussels. After they pulled up outside her block of flats, she thought
it over for quite some time and then turned to face him in the car.

"Yes, I'll come and I'll accept all of those, the sex, the humiliation,
even the loans," she said, and then added, "But I won't be beaten, whipped
or spanked seriously."

"Corporal punishment will only for fun, and if it gets too hot you just
say 'jacaranda' and you will be safe," he replied.

"Now," he continued, "I'll collect you at 10:30 on Thursday morning.
Wear a white blouse and a skirt to travel in. Bring three sets of formal
evening wear. Wear only stockings, no tights; I hate tights. Night-dresses
are likely to be unused or torn. Still want to come?"

"Yes, please."

Although she delayed getting out of the car, he made no move to kiss
her.

"Thanks for the lift," she said and opened the car door.

"Just a second," he said and passed her a wad of money, "Buy anything
you need."

Open-mouthed, Abby took the money as the car door shut and he drove off
without another word. There was, she discovered when she checked the
wad sitting at her desk in the flat, five hundred pounds exactly. The next
two days were a rush as she arranged a week's holiday and then charged
round Bond Street buying clothes.

Thursday - The Journey

Promptly at 10:30 on Thursday morning, the Jaguar drew up outside and
Mark rang her bell. Abby got into the back of the car as he held the door
for her; then he nipped round and sat beside her. A uniformed chauffeur
was driving, but she had enough sense not to remark on this. Evidently
Mark had more money than she had guessed if he had a chauffeur, and gave a girl
£500 to buy clothes for a weekend at one of the best hotels in Brussels.

To her surprise, they headed in to Central London and she asked Mark,
"Are we flying from London City then? I've never flown from there."

"Goodness no," was his reply, "I never fly to Brussels or Paris any
more. We're on the 12:27 Eurostar from Waterloo."

Everything went very smoothly at Waterloo. As they passed through
customs, where Mark's bags seemed to be the only ones not being X-rayed, it was
announced that the train was ready for boarding. They settled into
Coach 12 and Mark remarked that this was the last time he could smoke on the
train, as the rules were changing that week-end and the whole train would be
non-smoking. The stewardess brought them Champagne as the train slid
out of Waterloo and soon they were eating a very pleasant lunch. Abby
reflected that no ordinary train served food like this.

As they left Ashford, Mark said, "We'll be in the tunnel soon, about
ten to fifteen minutes. Would you like to join the Moles' Club?"

"Moles' Club?" she asked.

"Like the Mile High Club, only moles fuck in holes in the ground. At
the deepest point there are a hundred feet of rock and two hundred feet of
water above you."

This was why he had brought her along, to fuck her whenever and
wherever he wanted. She couldn't start by refusing his first request.

"OK, but where?" Abby said, excited that the weekend was really
starting now.

"Oh, in the loo," Mark explained, "They are quite large really."

So twenty minutes later, well in to the tunnel, Abby went first and sat
for a few seconds waiting for Mark in the loo.

'Abby my girl,' she thought, 'Here comes a new experience.'

Mark came in and lifted her gently on to the wash-basin. Sliding his
hands under her skirt, he pulled her knickers down and off her ankles
completely, putting them in his pocket.

"Good girl," he said, "Tights are a bugger."

Lifting her legs on to his shoulders and with no attempt at foreplay,
he pulled her roughly on to his prick. Luckily her excitement had started
her juices lubricating her cunt and he slid inside her easily. Three or
four deep thrusts and he slipped out.

She mewed slightly in disappointment, but he lifted her down and said,
"Back to your seat. I'll follow in a moment or two."

Puzzled at his abruptness, and at his not wanting to come, she went
back and sat down. When he came back, she looked at him quizzically.

"Oh, I know what you are thinking; you're wondering why it was so
brief," Mark said, smiling, "If either of us had come, you would have sat for
the next hour or so soaking and staining your skirt and the seat with the
liquids oozing from your cunt. You wouldn't want that, now would you.
I
bet you're not a member of the Mile High Club either."

Abby looked sheepish and nodded. Then she reflected that he had still
not
kissed her; they were half way to Brussels for a long weekend sharing
a
bed, he had paid for the clothes she was wearing, he had stripped off
her
knickers, he had been very firmly inside her, but he had not kissed
her.

Thursday - Brussels

At Midi station there was another uniformed chauffeur waiting on the
platform to take their luggage. Abby again revised her idea of Mark's
status upwards, because everyone else had to clear passport control and
go down the escalator before meeting the people waiting for them.
Following the chauffeur, she was literally stopped in her tracks by the sight of
the Rolls-Royce waiting blatantly illegally on the taxi-only setting down
point and guarded by a Belgian policeman. Far from issuing a ticket or a
stern warning, he merely saluted and wandered off to harass one of the many
beggars clustered at the entrance to the station.

From Midi it was only a short drive up the misleadingly named Boulevard
Lemonnier, which was a street of dingy shops, past the Bourse to the
Gastropole Hotel. There the chauffeur handed the keys of the car to a
flunkey who already had a page boy (of about 50 years old) ready to take
their bags. Evidently Mark was well-known here because they did not check
in, but went straight to the top floor and into their suite through
elaborate double doors closely followed by the luggage, and Charles.

The suite, Abby was amazed to find was the size of a large flat. There was
a spacious sitting-room, a huge bedroom with the biggest bed she had ever
seen, two dressing-rooms each with its own bathroom, and even a small
kitchen. In the sitting room there was a fully stocked bar , a large
settee, and a small dining table with four chairs.

Mark led her into the bedroom and started to unbutton her blouse. She
wriggled unhappily and nodded towards the other side of the room where
Charles was carefully unpacking their cases.

"Charles is a servant and sees, hears and says nothing unless told to," Mark
told her, "Now I want to look at what I have rented for the week-end."

The casualness in his voice reminded her firmly that she was just that, a
body rented for the weekend. Meekly Abby let him take off her blouse and
skirt, standing still for inspection in her brassière, suspender belt and
stockings. Her knickers were still in his pocket from the train. Mark
looked her over like a piece of statuary he was contemplating buying.

"Take the rest off yourself please," he said, "Quickly."

He was undressing himself, handing each garment to Charles. When they
were both naked he drew her to the edge of the bed and touched his fingers
lightly to her lips, then her labia and finally the crack of her arse.
Then he sat her down on the bed itself.

"Remember I said I would want all three?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Shall we start with your mouth then? Show me what you can do."

He lay on the bed and she moved to kiss his mouth.

"Not this end. I did say I wanted to fuck your mouth," he chided, "Now
get down there and show me a good blow-job."

Abby had, of course, given quite a few blow-jobs in the seven years
since she lost her virginity, but never quite as unaroused as she was now.
Still, she had promised and being unaroused, she found, enabled her to
concentrate on her technique. She took his prick, which was not the largest she
had seen or tasted, into her mouth and wet it with her saliva, then she did what
other boyfriends had liked so much, sliding the foreskin on and off the head
with her fingers while her tongue laved whatever was exposed at the moment.
When Mark was getting very interested and she thought he would soon be
cumming in her mouth, he gently lifted her head and pulled her on to
the bed beside him.

"I hope you're ready for a fuck," he whispered.

Rolling on top of her he slid easily into her pussy, which was damper than
she expected although she still felt little arousal herself. She wished he
would kiss her, or suck her nipples or anything more than this unemotional
fucking. She felt as though he was just using her body to masturbate in
instead of a handkerchief. However, as his thrusts became faster, her
body started to respond and she felt the beginnings of desire stirring in
her cunt, but again Mark stopped, pulled away and lifted her to standing
beside the bed.

"Now the arse," he murmured in her ear as he piled several pillows on
the bed.

Tumbling her forward so that her belly was on the pillows, he lifted her
arse high in the air and spread her cheeks to touch and play with the
rosebud of her most private place. Finding it tight and dry, he trickled
some oil on to the crack and started to work his fingers into her anus
as she tried desperately to relax. When he had three fingers in he
suddenly pulled them out and the head of his prick pushed its way past the
sphincter. Mark waited a moment for Abby's arse to accommodate this intrusion,
then thrust deep into her bowels. Pumping energetically and enthusiastically,
Mark was obviously enjoying his plundering of her anus. Abby was
wishing he would finger her to arouse her as well, but he ignored her pleasure
completely. After several minutes of this, during which Abby became more
tense, rather than less, Mark finally pumped frantically and she felt jets
of his jism flooding into her innermost bowels.

As Mark finally eased his shrinking prick out of her arse, Abby was again
reminded of her position as a rented woman for the weekend when he remarked
to Charles that she had a nice tight arse, and that Charles might care to
try her some time.

"Thank you sir. If I may sir, there's no time like the present," Charles
said and Abby felt strange hands spreading her buttocks, opening her
arse ready for invasion.

Because she was already oozing Mark's jism, Charles had no difficulty
in entering her even though his prick was, she judged, thicker than Mark's.
Lying there as Mark's chauffeur pounded into her rectum, Abby wondered
if she would survive the weekend. It was only teatime on Thursday and she
had been shagged twice, given Mark a blow-job, and was now being buggered
by the second person in as many minutes. Well, she had been warned and had
agreed well in advance to everything that had happened, and Mark had said, "A
wild weekend," and warned that she might be lent to friends, so she couldn't
complain. Charles withdrew without coming, and turned her over.
Expecting to be shagged again, she was piqued to hear herself being discussed by
the two men.

"I think she'll be a screamer, sir," Charles said, "Have you heard her yet?"

"No, I came far too soon for her, and she's very tense; she's been nowhere
near coming herself. I'll find out after dinner. Do you think her breasts
are large enough?" Mark asked.

Charles considered for a moment and then said, "For my taste, yes, sir.
But I know you prefer them a little larger. Is she one of Marco's girls?"

"No," said Mark, "She's actually a bond broker in the City. A complete
amateur, but I fancied intelligence this trip as a change from a sex
machine, and she offered."

Abby sat up and was about to protest at being discussed as though she were
not there when Mark, turning to her, said, "Abby, I explained on Monday
that I was quite willing to hire an Escort Agency girl and that I would use
you and might may even lend you to friends during the weekend. You agreed
to come and you took my money. You are here at my expense for my pleasure. If
you don't like that, you can go back to London on the evening train
tonight, and I'll hire a local girl for the rest of the weekend."

Abby winced at the brutality, but had to admit to herself that she had
indeed sold her body for the weekend.

"Yes. I know," she said, "I'll try to get used to that. I've never
done this before."

"Obviously," said Mark, "Now, you have two hours to get yourself ready
before we go to dinner. We're going to an unpretentious little bar where
the patron serves wonderful food, so you won't be on display. I shall be
wearing blazer and flannels; black tie would be completely out of place
there."

Thursday - Sightseeing and Dinner

Amy dressed in a blouse and her kilt and this seemed to please Mark who
was, as promised, in blazer and flannels. As they left the hotel, Mark said
to Charles, "Le Royale, please, via rue Aerschot."

"What's rue Aerschot?" asked Abby.

"It's the windows next to the North Station," Mark answered.

"Windows?" Abby was puzzled.

"You'll see," laughed Mark and fondled her breast, sliding his hand
inside her blouse.

Abby was uneasy, but didn't object because they were well back in the
opulent rear seat of the Rolls-Royce and she didn't think anyone outside
would see. Soon she realised what Mark had meant as they slid slowly
past a series of shop windows which empty, except for one or two seats in
each. They were lit with red, blue and ultra-violet fluorescent tubes and in
most of them were girls in underwear or swim suits, doing their best to
attract the attention of the men walking past in large numbers.

Then she spotted a man who went into the door beside one of the windows
and the girl hastily went to meet him.

"Is she going to ...?" asked Abby.

Mark interrupted her, "She's going to take money from him and then she will
fuck him or suck him, or let him in her arse, yes. He will get about
fifteen minutes and then she will be back looking for another man."

"But that means she could ..." her voice tailed off.

"Up to four men an hour, if she's good at attracting them, for up to
eight or ten hours a day. Say an average of over a hundred a week for a
successful girl," Mark answered.

"How much do they charge? Do you know?" Abby queried.

"Between one and three thousand francs a time, but the girl will only get a
small proportion of that, perhaps a quarter. Still it comes to fifty
thousand a week, nearly a thousand pounds in our money. There's no other
way any of them could earn that much."

Charles turned sharp right at the end of the street and looped round to take
them along most of it again. Abby was fascinated by the idea of sitting in
a window inviting all comers to have her. When she thought about it, it was
little different from what she had done with Mark when she let him give her
to Charles. Except, of course, that the window girls had no control at all
over who had them. They couldn't flounce out and go back to safe, boring
old England if they wanted to.

At the Royale, Abby was very surprised. It seemed a very ordinary bar, with
a few tables outside, looking across a wide oval open space with a tram
terminus in the middle. The building opposite was a very large and ornate
nineteenth century structure with turrets and a clock tower which Mark said
was one of the suburban stations. Inside it was reasonably smart with the
tables to the right laid for food and those on the left used for drinking.
In the middle was a group of old men who were playing a card game which she
didn't recognise. One of the group stood up and greeted Mark as an old friend.

"This is my latest petite amie, Abby," said Mark, "This is M. le Patron of
the Royale."

He shook her hand gravely and escorted them to a table for four, where they
sat side by side. Mark waved the menu away and ordered something in very
fast French which made the tall thin waiter shake his head as he went to the
kitchen. Some very pleasant wine appeared and they drank in companionable
silence until two plates appeared with large lumps of steak on them. These
were swiftly followed by large bowl of French fries and a jug with the most
delicious mushroom sauce.

Abby ate quickly and enjoyed the steak, though it was not the filet she had
at first thought. It was a little stringier than she would have expected in
London, but the sauce more than made up for it and the frites were perfect.
The wine went down well and they drained the second bottle as they finished
the main course. Some excellent sorbet arrived and then very pleasant
coffees with brandy accompaniment.

Abby realised that at some point in this repast, Mark's hand had slipped
into the overlap of her skirt and she was being gently caressed over her
increasingly wet panties. Somehow that seemed quite all right through the
wine and brandy haze.

"Go to the ladies and lose those knickers," Mark whispered, "It's
through that door marked 'Cour'."

As she went through the door he indicated, Abby was faced with three men's
urinals and hastily returned to Mark.

"Wrong door," she whispered, "That's the little boys' room."

"No it's mixed," Mark told her, "One of the cubicles has a ladies' sign and
the other has a gents' on it. Nobody is as prissy about it here as they are
in England."

Sure enough, Mark was right, and Abby reflected that it was the little
differences that brought it home to one that this was Belgium and not
England. Slipping her knickers in her handbag she returned to the table and
Mark resumed his caresses, this time stroking her labia until she was hoping
he would slip a finger or two inside her.

Eventually, he stood up and they left. Charles was waiting outside with the
Rolls and they got into the back. Mark's hand went straight between
her legs and he thrust two fingers deep into her waiting cunt and his thumb
played round her other sphincter as they drove back to the hotel.

In the suite, Mark stood her in the middle of the sitting room and started
to undress her. Abby stood quite still, knowing that he enjoyed this part
of their love-making; no, sex not lovemaking she corrected herself.
She was, however, pleased that Charles had not accompanied them upstairs
this time.

When she was naked, Mark said, "You can undress me now, if you like."

Correctly interpreting this as an order, she set about it with no great
skill; she had not had to undress a man before, as her boyfriends usually
threw their clothes off with complete abandon when they had stripped her.
Eventually she managed to get all of his clothes off and they stood together
nude before the big mirror in the bathroom.

"We do make a good-looking couple, don't we?" she asked.

The only reply was a grunt and Mark began to relieve himself in the loo,
still standing up and completely unconcerned that she was watching.

"Your turn," he said when he had finished.

Abby was suddenly very shy in front of him. It was stupid, she knew. He
had used her every orifice and had fondled her in public and yet she didn't
want to sit on the loo in front of him.

"Please may I have some privacy?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"That's a bit stuck-up isn't it, for a tart who lets me lend her arse to a
chauffeur?" asked Mark.

She didn't reply, but sat down and relieved herself as he watched. He even
grabbed a piece of toilet paper and dried her cunt-lips when she had done.
As he whisked her into the bedroom and tipped her onto her back on the bed,
lifting and opening her legs wide to look at her innermost private parts,
she reflected that he still had not kissed her on the lips. Yes, she was
just a tart for him.

The sex was really good, she had to admit, and Mark seemed to go on for
ever, twisting and turning her to use whichever entry took his fancy for a
few moments, but never quite letting her reach her climax, and never
coming himself.

"Oh please," she begged, "Let me come for you."

His prick at once slipped out of her cunt, where it was rousing her and
she was pressed to her knees.

"Perhaps, later, as a reward," said Mark, "But first take me in your
mouth and swallow every drop."

Dutifully, she worked on him and after a while he came, and she swallowed,
and it seemed to please him. He gently pulled her over to the bed and they
embraced, curled companionable together with his fingers lightly playing
with her clitoris, teasingly stopping when she was close to coming.

"Did you like the dinner?" asked Mark.

"Yes, the sauce was lovely and the steak was nice too, though a little
different from the English style," she answered, wishing she dared to
tell him to stop messing about and to make her come.

"Nowhere I know cooks horse steak as well as the Royale," he remarked
and Abby nearly threw up there and then, all thought of an orgasm lost in
an instant.

"Horse!" she yelled, sitting up.

"Yes," said Mark, "Didn't you hear what I ordered?"

Abby just stared at him.

"Now if you want to cum, I'll let you," Mark offered.

Abby lay down again and the magic of his fingers soon had her arching
up to his hand and screaming, "YES, GIVE IT TO ME, YES, YES, YES!"

An earth-shattering climax shook her body as the pent-up tensions of two
hours of teasing was released in a few wonderful seconds.

"Charles was right; you are a screamer," Mark remarked, "Now I'm going
to sleep, and you can suck me gently while I snore."

Abby once more took his now deflated prick in her mouth as he proceeded
to fall sleep almost immediately.

Friday - Breakfast

She had thought she wouldn't be able to sleep, but it had been a long day
and then next thing she knew it was daylight and she felt oddly full. As
she awoke she realised that Mark was gently thrusting in and out of her
arse as they lay on top of the bedclothes like spoons.

There was a knock at the door and Mark shouted, "Come in."

Abby tried to move away, but a maid came in with a tray heaped with
breakfast. As the tray was put down on the side table, Abby recognised
her favourite breakfast of scrambled egg with smoked salmon.

Mark asked the maid, "Would you care to join us?" indicating the bed.

"Oh, Monsieur, but I have other rooms to deliver breakfast," was the
tactful reply.

"When you have finished those, come back and join us for an hour or
two," Mark insisted, holding his hand out to the maid.

She came over to the bed, where Abby knew she could not fail to notice
that Mark's prick was deeply embedded in her arse, and something passed from
Mark's hand to hers.

"I'll be half an hour sir, but that will let you eat your breakfast while
it's hot, sir," the Maid agreed, curtsying as she left the room.

Pulling out of Abby's arse. Mark leapt to his feet and said, "Come on,
breakfast. After that a quick shower and then I'll watch you and the
maid sixty-nining."

"But I've never ..." Abby started, though it wasn't quite true.

She had experimented with other girls a few times, but never as an
entertainment for an audience.

"Then you'll soon learn," said Mark helping himself to breakfast.

So it was that some little time later there was a knock on the door and the
maid came into the room to find Mark fully dressed, sitting in an armchair
watching Abby, naked, trying to dance in a somewhat balletic style to a
Belgian radio station.

"What can I do for you, sir?" asked the maid.

"Ah, Paulette, lose those clothes and join Abby, please," Mark asked,
as though it were as normal as asking for another drink.

Obviously Mark knew this girl from previous visits. Quickly the maid
slipped off her uniform and Abby was not surprised to see that she was
without a brassière or knickers beneath her tunic. More interestingly,
she was completely shaven, giving her labia a child-like puffy look.

"Now teach Abby how to please a woman," Mark continued, "She says she
doesn't know how."

"Certainment, monsieur," said the maid, taking Abby's hand and leading
her over to the bed.

The Maid put one foot on the bed, opening her legs wide.

"What you do, madame is open my cunt, like so," she advised, spreading
her labia with the fore and middle fingers, "and then lick the bud at the
top, the pink bit that is already reaching for your tongue. I do the same
to you and the rest will just be no problem. OK?"

Abby nodded and was gently laid back on the bed with her head at the edge of
the mattress at the foot by the Maid, who seemed completely unperturbed by
the whole scene. Her legs were gently opened and her knees bent; as this
was done with such tenderness Abby thought the Maid would make an excellent
nurse. The Maid then climbed on to the bed with her knees either side of
Abby's shoulders and lowered her face to Abby's cunt. With her weight on
her elbows, Paulette spread Abby wide and began a sophisticated pattern of
licking and sucking which had Abby panting in seconds as her cunt yearned
for something to grip. At the same time the open cunt hovering above her
face was gently lowered until she, in her turn, could lick the servant's
clitoris. As her fervour rose, Abby licked harder and the two women
established a rhythm which was quickly heading for a mutual climax.

"Wait," commanded Mark, and Paulette paused.

Abby felt the position of the woman above her change and she opened her
eyes to see a pair of very hairy balls hanging down beside her nose as
Paulette's clitoris rested on her tongue and Mark's prick slid neatly into the
Maid's arsehole. The licking recommenced and Abby closed her eyes again and
gave herself up entirely to the lascivious sensations and thoughts coursing
through her.

Her next conscious thought was when something warm dripped onto her
face. At first she thought it was Paulette's love juices and she marvelled
that the woman gushed so much. Then she realised that Mark had come in the
woman's narrower entrance and the residue was oozing out over her. A
loud slap on one of the arse-cheeks above her face was a signal from Mark to
Paulette and the woman quickly rose, dressed and left without another word.

Friday - Games

Mid-morning, after the session with Paulette, room service arrived with
some screens and a bar stool. Mark had gone out to do whatever he did, and
Abby had no idea what they were for, but when they assured her that Mark had
ordered them she shrugged and let them leave them.

Mark was pleased when he returned, and explained that he thought she would
like to play 'windows'. They set the screens to hide the bedroom door and
make a little "room" with only three sides and the bar stool that was to be
her 'window'. When someone came into the 'window' she could take him into
the hidden bedroom for his allotted time and pretend she was whoring.
Another screen hid most of the sitting room from her view so that she could
only see who was coming past her 'window' at the last moment.

Soon she was sitting on her stool wearing only her black lace brassière and
knickers. Mark came past her window, looked in, and shook his head and
walked on. Then Abby was surprised when Charles came past and glanced at
her; on reflection she thought that it was typical of Mark to do that. She
almost fell off her stool when one of the room-service waiters came past and
spent some moments looking her up and down. That, she thought, was going
too far; then she remembered that this was Mark's weekend and he called the
shots. Next Charles came past again, from the other direction and came into
her 'window'.

"Do you do anal with no condom?" he asked, loud enough for anyone in
the sitting-room to hear.

Abby decided that if that's what Mark wanted, that's what he would get.

"Come on in," she said and led the way into the bedroom.

Charles lost no time in laying her face down on the bed and filling herrear
passage, none too gently, with his prick. Because she was dry it hurt more
than usual, but he quickly came and that problem was solved. Charles
scurried out and Abby spent a couple of minutes in the bathroom cleaning up.
Returning to her 'window' she was just in time to see Mark disappearing
round the screen. Evidently he had walked past when her 'window' was empty.
She heard a low murmur of conversation through the screen, but could not
hear any of the words. Then the waiter appeared again and joined her in the
window.

Waving a thousand franc note he asked, "You suck?"

Taking the note from him and sticking it in her brassière, Abby led him
into the bedroom and knelt before him. Unzipping his trousers, she took his
prick out and stroked it until it was fully hard. Taking him in her mouth
she started to suck and lick in the way she knew most men liked it.
The waiter was impatient and grabbed her hair; holding her head still, he
fucked her mouth hard, making her gag. Mercifully it was soon over as a
gush of jism filled, and overflowed from her mouth.

Abby swallowed as much as she could but a large globule of sticky white
fluid fell onto the man's hand as he retrieved his thousand francs from her
brassière. With a disgusted look he wiped his hand on her hair, turned on
his heel and left. After several minutes in the bathroom she managed to get
most of the mess off her hair and returned to her bar stool.

Mark came round the corner, stepped into her 'window' and asked, "Is there
anything you won't do?"

Abby responded, "I won't be beaten, whipped or spanked. Otherwise,
anything you want, kind sir."

"I thought so," Mark said, "Did it turn you on, when the waiter paid
you, or when he had you?"

"Being paid felt funny, but he did take his money back at the end," she
confided, "The blow-job just hurt my hair because he didn't let me do a
thing."

"Cheeky bugger, taking your money as his tip," Mark laughed, "I got it
from your purse and told him to make it more realistic! So he had a
blow-job and a sixteen quid tip."

Abby looked at Mark and stretched up a little to kiss him, but he turned his
face away.

"I think I want another fuck," he said, "but this time you can be a
tart for me. Just lie back and let me do it all myself."

In the bedroom they undressed in silence and Abby lay on the bed, opening
and lifting her legs. With no preliminaries whatever, Mark lay on her and
sank his penis deep into her vagina. It wasn't very hard and she thought he
seemed to be fucking her because he thought he ought to, rather than from
any desire for sex, let alone desire for her as a person.

"It must be quite interesting, meeting lots of different customers. Just
comparing their style of fucking and the size and shape of their pricks
would be intriguing also," Abby offered, and talking about the windows
seemed to make him get harder inside her.

"I would think that the intellectual interest would be much dampened by the
lack of hygiene among the majority of the clients," Mark said, "That and the
lack of choice about who you let in to your body. Most of the girls are
supposed to end up hating all men. And they get so good at faking orgasms
that they can't have real ones."

He was now fully aroused, though Abby didn't know whether it was the
talk or her body which had achieved that. Thrusting hard, he soon came, but
again Abby was relatively unmoved.

"You might at least pretend to enjoy it," Mark complained as he rolled off
her, "You would make a good prostitute, I think, not getting worked up.
Now come and wash me down in the shower."

"I tell you what," Mark said a few minutes later as they showered together,
"I could arrange for you to try working in a real window for a couple
of hours if you like?"

Abby stared at him uncertain of what to say. Playing in the hotel room
was one thing, even with a waiter she didn't know, but rue Aerschot where
literally anyone could demand her services was something else.

"Of course, if you don't want to, we'll say no more," Mark goaded her,
seeing her doubted written across her face.

"Would I be safe?" she asked.

"Safe from what?" Mark asked.

"Well, being beaten up, or being sold as a white slave, or being made
to take drugs, just for a start," she replied.

"Oh, yes. The men who run those brothels wouldn't tolerate anything
like that. It would interfere with trade too much," came the confident
reply, "No girls would work there if that sort of thing happened."

"Well, if you want me to do it, I will," Abby said.

"Might be fun watching you work," said Mark.

Saturday - Let's Play for Real

They drove back to rue Aershot the next afternoon and stopped outside what
had once been a double-fronted shop. The right-hand window was empty,
but there was a girl in the other one. Abby was so excited at the idea of
playing at being a prostitute that she didn't notice the girl's appearance
and Mark didn't waste time examining her before sweeping into the shop,
pulling Abby with him.

As they went in Abby looked around and saw there were no fittings at all.
The shop had been partitioned just behind the windows with a crude screen
containing a curtained doorway into the back of the premises. There was
just room for three or four people to stand, and for the women to get into
and out of the windows. The glass in the door had been whitewashed so that
once the punter was inside, nobody on the street could see them as they
negotiated with the women. Set into the screen were two letter-box slots
labelled '1' and '2'. The windows were similarly labelled on the inside.

"Monsieur?" said the woman, coming from the window.

"This is Abby," said Mark, "I've arranged to lend her to Bruno for a
while."

"Bruno is out, monsieur," said the woman.

"No matter," replied Mark, "I'll leave her here and he can deal with it
when he comes back."

"He will only be a very few minutes, monsieur. You can wait in ..."
she gestured to the back of the shop.

"No, no. I'll leave her with you. If she's too scared to go on, just
get Bruno to ring me. Frankly, I don't think she will be able to handle
doing this for real; she has too much imagination."

With that parting shot Mark left the shop and Charles drove him off.
Anne-Marie then spoke to Abby for the first time.

"I am Anne-Marie. Are you to work here all the time?" she asked.

"No," replied Abby, "It is complicated, but I am only here for a few
hours. I live and work in London."

"Hmff," Anne-Marie snorted, "No windows in London. I know; I was
there. A lot of time is wasted in taxis and with telephones."

"I don't ..." Abby broke off, "Just tell me how it works here."

"It is simple. You display in the window on the right mark number 2.
A man comes in and you tell him the price. He gives you the money which you
put in this little slot here; you are number 2 today, for the window, for
the slot and for the bed. Then you take him into your room number 2 and he
use you. When he is there since fifteen minutes Bruno buzz and you turn
man out into street, or he pay more."

"Even if he hasn't finished?" asked Abby.

The older whore gave her a withering glance, "Not your problem, baby.
Many man never finish."

"What are the prices?" asked a duly chastened Abby.

"They pay at least fifteen hundred francs for a fuck, fifteen hundred
for a suck, two thousand for arse fuck; You get one quarter. If they look
rich you ask more and you get half the extra. If they want to use you with
no johnnie it is five hundred extra. Regular customers all know the
prices of Bruno anyway."

Moving through the curtained doorway into the back of the shop she
pointed to a door marked '2'.

"This is your room for today. Keep it clean, because we use the room
we are assigned and it is not our own room.. In here," she said walking in,
"is obviously bed. In table is condoms, paper cloths, and all toys.
Here," she pushed her hand down the side of the bed, "is button. If there is
trouble, you press; Bruno comes and deals with the customer."

"Toys?" Abby asked.

"Like so," said Anne-Marie, holding up first a dildo made of some
revolting looking transparent strawberry red plastic, a grey butt plug, and a
wicked looking paddle.

"Who is that for?" asked Abby.

"Oh some men want you use on them; some want to use toys on you," came
the nonchalant reply.

Going back out of the 'bedroom' she went into a door marked 'Privé'. Inside
was a very ordinary looking office, except that in an alcove at the back was
a divan bed. Otherwise the desk, chair, filing cabinet and PC were much as
she had seen in small businesses in England.

"This is Bruno's room. Here he sits all day and does nothing while he
counts our money," said Anne-Marie.

The man who was presumably Bruno followed Anne-Marie in and aimed a
slap accurately on her left arse-cheek. He was a big burly shaven-headed
man, such as might be seen the world over in cafés where drugs, stolen goods
or women are bought and sold. Abby was instinctively certain that he
would not tolerate any misbehaviour from his customers, or from his girls.

"Back in window," he said, "Work."

Anne-Marie went off giggling quietly, presumably to return to her duties.

"You Mark's girl?" he asked.

Abby nodded.

"Right," said Bruno, "Get clothes off, lie on bed, legs up. I fuck
you."

"Now wait a minute," said Abby, indignantly, "That wasn't a part of the
deal."

"Deal was, you come here, you stand in window, man come in and pay, you
fuck. You want I go outside, you go in window, I come in, THEN we fuck?
Get clothes off, lie on bed, legs up. I fuck you now. Or go away, not
waste time."

Abby realised that it was indeed true; she had agreed to take on all comers
and if Bruno wanted to be first he could. She slipped quickly out of her
clothes and lay down. Bruno opened his trousers revealing a nice large
circumcised prick with a gleaming purple head. Visually it was attractive,
but the scent which escaped from his open flies was definitely not Chanel
No.5! Moving over to the sideboard he passed her some jelly.

"Put in cunt and arse before go in window," he instructed her, "Not time
when client there."

Quickly lubricating her cunt, she lifted her legs. Bruno came over and sank
his length easily and oh so excitingly into her waiting gash. Five or six
deep slow thrusts and he withdrew and put his prick back in his trousers.
Abby sat up, a little disappointed that he had not finished.

"All girls in my window, I fuck every day," Bruno explained, "Then they
know who boss."

Picking up her underwear, of black lace by a famous designer, he
surveyed it for a minute and said, "No good for window."

"Why not?" asked Abby, genuinely curious.

"Nipple show. Hair show. Not legal," he said as he rummaged in a box
and found a pink satin bikini, "Try this."

Abby put on the unwashed and much used swimsuit, and it fitted well
enough but the smell was awful.

"Not that one," she said taking it off.

"Right. Not look good on white girl. Try this."

A sky blue version of the same thing, which had apparently been washed
fairly recently, fitted her quite well. Bruno nodded his approval.

"You know prices and routine?" he asked.

"The prices are fifteen hundred francs for a fuck, fifteen hundred for
a suck, two and a half thousand for my arse and five hundred extra for no
condom. The man comes in and must choose and pay, then we go into the
cubicle. When his time is up you buzz. If I have trouble I buzz you,"
Abby recited.

"Use condom in cunt and arse if can," said Bruno, "Takes less time to
get back in window."

Abby stood waiting for his next question.

He growled, "Window empty. Go to work."

As she walked to the window, Abby realised just what she was doing and
stopped dead in her tracks.

'What is happening to me?, she asked herself, 'First I come away as a
call girl with a man I hardly know. I let him fuck me three ways. Then I
let him give my arse to his chauffeur and my mouth to a waiter. Now I am
going to take on all comers as a whore in a Brussels brothel to amuse him.
What am I doing?'

Then she remembered his parting words, "I don't think you will be
able tohandle doing this for real," and decided that she would do it just
to show him. And it might be fun at that.

Saturday - First Client

Perhaps it was just luck, or perhaps Abby had a guardian angel somewhere,
but her first paying customer was one that she didn't mind at all, and one
she didn't have to do anything special for. He was youngish, about her own
age she thought, and didn't speak English or French, so Bruno did the deal.

"Fuck with condom, be quick," he exhorted her, and then it was happening.

She was in 'her' room being fucked before she had time to be nervous and
just as she was beginning to enjoy it, the man came. He quickly rose, threw
the used condom in her waste basket, dressed and left.

Seconds later Bruno came into her room and said, "Why you lie there.
Wash and back in window."

It was all over in seconds, she thought, and then noticed that it had
actually taken almost ten minutes. Ten minutes to turn her into a real
professional whore. She had fucked a man she had never met before because
he paid to use her. What she didn't understand was why she didn't feel
soiled. Then it dawned on her that he wasn't really the first, she hardly
knew Mark and she didn't know Charles or the waiter at all, but she had
let all three of them fuck her because Mark had paid for her clothes and
the trip. As she walked mechanically into the bathroom, she decided that
the difficulty of this windows business was overrated; she could easily do
it for hours on end and make quite a lot of money.

Saturday - And Another

After washing and repairing her make-up, Abby relubricated herself, took a
deep breath, and slid back into the window. She sat on the stool for some
time, attracting only passing glances, including Mark's, who came past
twice, until a fat, grey-haired man in an odd sort of tent-like garment and
wearing a small cap stopped and examined her closely through the glass.
Attracting her attention, he signalled for her to turn round slowly so that
he could see every angle. That seemed to make his mind up, for he came
in to the 'shop' and growled something at her in a very heavily accented
French.

"I'm sorry, I don't quite ..." she started in English, thinking it
wouldn't help.

"How much your ...?" asked the old man, patting his rump to indicate
what he wanted.

"Two thousand five hundred," she answered clearly and carefully.

"I offer one thousand," said the old man, evidently expecting some
enjoyable haggling.

"No," said Abby, who didn't want him in her arse, or anywhere else, if
she could avoid it.

The old man raised his voice and said something in what she correctly
guessed was Turkish. Bruno came out from the back and seemed very
profuse in his apologies to the old man.

Turning to Abby he said quietly, "Arse, no condom. He no time limit
but he no come."

"Why no time limit?" she asked and was rewarded with a painful pinch on
the undercurve of one breast.

"Do it," said Bruno, "Not argue. And next time in window, dance, walk,
not just sit."

Perhaps her guardian angel had gone off duty, but Abby did not enjoy it.
The old man smelled abominably; bathing was evidently not something he
did often, or perhaps not at all. His technique was to bend her over the
bed and ram into her arse with no preliminaries. When he was firmly there
he held her by one shoulder and the opposite hip and pumped enthusiastically
for what seemed an eternity. Eventually he grunted and Abby felt his prick
withering out of her arse.

Dropping her unceremoniously on the bed the man let his kameez drop and
walked out of the shop, leaving Abby feeling utterly degraded. Maybe Mark
was right; maybe she couldn't take it. Then she resolved to prove him
wrong; she would stick to the task until he fetched her back. She went
into the toilet and washed out her arse as best she could and then greased
herself again.

Saturday - And a Third

Abby went back to the window and tried to parade and even dance a
little, as Bruno had asked. The street was a little quieter than it had been
earlier, so there were fewer passers-by. For about ten minutes none of them
stopped for a closer look. Then what she took to be a young boy of about
fourteen years old stopped, examined her through the window with a thoroughness
that belied his years.

Then he came in through the door and she found that he spoke little English.
Of course, Bruno came from the back and started to shoo him out because he
looked so young. There was an impassioned conversation in a language Abby
didn't recognise and the boy waved an identity card at Bruno, who examined
it and then asked another question.

Abby saw the flash of purple as a 2000 franc note changed hands and
Bruno turned to her saying, "He has money and he has identity card says he is
eighteen. I not argue. He want suck no condom. Work."

Shrugging her shoulders, Abby led the young man to 'her' cubicle and
knelt on the floor. The young man was looking round him, obviously wanting
something. Using signs and some words which seem to be universally known,
Abby discovered that he did want a condom after all.

Relieved that this was now sorted, she slipped one on to his engorged prick,
which certainly looked a lot older than its owner's face. As she knelt
again, he turned his back on her and started to wank energetically.
Puzzled, she waited until he had come, in very few strokes, and then
she took the now full condom he offered her and dropped it into her rubbish
bin.

The young man then gestured her to her knees again and she realised
what all this was about. He knew that when he first came in he was so excited
that he would only last moments when she touched him, so he wanked first
because his second climax would be slower. Opening her mouth, she took his
semi-hard prick on to her tongue and the familiar taste of jism set her
juices working. It was the first time she had started with a jism-flavoured
prick; usually the pricks entering her mouth were fresh, or tasted of her
own juices. She stroked and laved his hardening cock as he groaned
with pleasure.

'With a pretty young man like this,' she thought, 'it's a pleasure to do
this. He's so much nicer than the old goat I just had up my arse.'

All too soon for Abby's pleasure, the young man grabbed her hair and
jerked her head on and off his prick very fast before filling her mouth with
his second offering. As soon as he had come he pushed her sideways down on
the floor, zipped his jeans and rushed out, saying something to her in a
language she didn't know, but which she was sure did not amount to an
expression of grateful thanks.

Saturday - Too Far

After a quick visit to the bathroom to rinse her mouth with Listerine and to
adjust her hair and make-up, Abby was soon back in the window, elated
at her successes so far and, despite, or perhaps because of, the circumstances, she
was somewhat aroused. She could get to enjoy this.

Four young men whom she judged to be British, arrived outside her window.
After examining her for some seconds, a fair bit of pushing and shoving
ensued as three of them tried to persuade a tall blond boy of about her own
age to visit her. Abby beckoned him encouragingly because she thought he
looked to be a nice young man. Her gestures finally decided him and he came
into the 'shop' blushing furiously.

"Quelle est la prix de ..." his appalling French tailed off.

"It's fifteen hundred for a fuck or a suck, and twenty-five hundred for my
arse," Abby said, taking charge as she had seen Anne-Marie do with an
embarrassed client.

"I'd like the whole ..." he interrupted himself, "You're English?"

"Yes," she replied, "When you say the whole, you mean all three?"

"No, no. Just the usual ... straightforward ..."

He was terribly embarrassed, the poor thing, Abby thought.

"Well give me fifteen hundred and we'll fuck then," she prompted.

As he got his wallet out and gave her the money, he stammered, "But
you're English ..."

"And no English girl would do this, I suppose? There's no Red Light area in
London, or Brum, or the 'Pool, I suppose?" she snapped as she put the money
in the little letter-box, "In there."

She pushed him into 'her' cubicle.

"If you want to undress, be quick. The clock's running."

The young blond, whom she had decided to think of as Number 4, soon
stripped, revealing a big, bold, very firm, circumcised prick that it gave
her a thrill just to look at. Bending down, Abby kissed and licked the
head quickly.

"Don't tell Bruno. I'm not supposed to do that if you don't pay for it,"
she commented as she lay back and welcomed him inside her.

As he sank deep into her womb, she realised that he wasn't going to
last long. Then he started pumping and she was lost in her own lust. The
excitement of the afternoon all came to a head and she had a gigantic climax
of her own.

As she came, she screamed, "Good that's it. In further. Ram me ...
Aaaaahhh," and then her voice rose in a crescendo of unintelligible
sounds.

Suddenly this wonderful prick was gone and Bruno was there yelling at the
young blond in some odd language. Moaning in frustration that she had not
been allowed to finish her series of climaxes, Abby stood up.

"What he do?" demanded Bruno, "I kill him."

"Calm down, Bruno," she said, "I just had an orgasm, that's all."

"What you had?"

Evidently this was beyond Bruno's English. The blond young man had gathered
up his clothes and gone while Bruno was occupied with the girl.

"I came. I always yell when I come," she explained.

"That no good. You no use to me. Get out," shouted Bruno, dragging her
into the office, "Dress, I call Mark. You no use if I think you dying every
five minutes. You not allowed to come if you work for me."

Saturday - In Disgrace

She sat in silence in Bruno's office as she waited, wondering whether to try
to make Bruno change his mind, and deciding that she had nothing she could
offer him to persuade him. It was Charles driving the Rolls which drew up
only minutes later. Abby went out to it and opened the door, but Mark was
not in the car.

"Why hasn't Mark come?" asked Abby, "Where is he?"

"He hasn't come because he's angry with you, and I don't know where
he's gone," Charles replied coldly.

"Well what did he say?" demanded Abby.

"You want to know exactly?" asked Charles.

"Yes!"

"He said, 'Charles, go and get that silly cow and dump her at the hotel
in a bath of disinfectant. The stupid tart can't even keep a job as a
whore'. That is why I am here and I'll run your bath when we get to the hotel.
Now get in and shut up."

At the hotel Charles went straight through to run her bath, while she helped
herself to a drink from the sideboard. As she walked through Abby was
surprised when Charles came into the bathroom with her.

"You can wait outside," she said coldly.

Charles ignored her order and remarked, "I've seen it all before. I've had
your arse. I would think five or six other men have seen it all and
had it all in the last two hours."

Resigned, she started to undress.

"Mr. Mark has suggested that after your bath you should be spanked hard, but
he remembers that he promised he would not do that, and he supposes that I
am bound by that promise also," said Charles as she slipped into the strange
smelling bath, "Shall I tell him you wish to hold him to that promise?"

Abby considered this; Mark might be placated if she let him spank her, and
she could at least plead her case with him face to face. On the other hand
it might hurt quite a lot. She made her mind up.

"You can tell him I will accept a punishment for upsetting his friend Bruno," she said.

Charles went out of the bathroom and she lay for a long time luxuriating in
a heated bath where the water didn't get any colder, no matter how long she
lay there. She wondered how much it would cost to fit such a device in her
bathroom in London. After her bath she dried, perfumed and powdered her
body ready for her encounter with Mark. Wondering what exactly she should
wear for a spanking, she moved out into the bedroom wrapped in the huge bath
sheet, where Charles was sitting on the bed.

"When is Mark arriving?" she asked.

"Perhaps tomorrow," Charles said, "After you have recovered from your
spanking, which I am to administer. Now drop that towel and get over here,
face down, on my knee."

The spanking did hurt terribly, but did not last too long. True to the
public school tradition which seemed to permeate Mark's life, it was
six of the best administered with a slipper, three to each cheek. It might
have been easier to bear if Abby had been told that there would only be six,
but even so she was crying uncontrollably at the end of it. She didn't sit
down to dinner in the evening, but ate a snack from room service lying on
her side on the settee; she slept on her stomach, and alone, that night.

Sunday - Getting Value for Money

All day Sunday, Abby mooched disconsolately round the hotel suite,
reflecting that her fun and sex weekend had turned out to be a disaster
in ways she had never imagined. After Mark's plain speaking the evening
she offered to join him, she thought she knew what was needed; he wanted a
willing sexual partner who would not have 'headaches' nor draw the line
at any sexual activity he might fancy. She had thought she could do that;
any woman who put her mind to it could do that. She now realised that it
was difficult to subjugate her own desires entirely to those of another.
She just didn't have what it takes to be a classic Escort to a rich man.
Her orgasm had let her down as a common prostitute as well; she hadn't
been able to dissociate work from pleasure.

She thought that Mark, too, must feel that his weekend had been ruined by
his decision to bring an amateur instead of hiring from an Escort Agency.
The direct costs of her clothes, the train fares and the hotel must have set
him back well over fifteen hundred pounds, so she wouldn't get any marks at
all for value-for-money. He had had some fun, she consoled herself.
He had fucked her all three ways; he had lent her to people; he had
watched her sixty-nining with another woman; he had sent her off to be
a prostitute. He hadn't lost out entirely.

Late on Sunday evening, about ten o'clock, Mark burst into the suite with
the ever-faithful Charles and a woman Abby had never met. From his lurching
as he walked and the slurring of his words she decided he was drunk. She
had resolved to do whatever he asked the next time he asked for anything, so
she steeled herself for whatever his alcohol-distorted mind might dream up.
The orders were not long coming.

"Shtrip!"

Abby stared at him.

"I shaid shtrip," he snarled, "Which part of the word shtrip don't you
unnershtand?"

Abby quickly took off the dressing gown which was the only garment she
was wearing.

"Better," said Mark, "At leasht you're ready for action. Noknickersh."

Turning to the woman he was with he kissed her thoroughly and slipped
the shoulder straps of her dress down to reveal as perfect a pair of breasts as
silicone and cosmetic surgery could offer.

"These are berrer than yoursh," he boasted to Abby, "And she doeshn't
cosht as much. Now feet apart, touch your toesh."

Abby complied, wondering what would come next.

"Shtick your finger in her arshe, see if it'sh clean," he said to his companion,
"Don' worry; if it comesh out covered in chocolate Abby c'n lick it clean."

The woman moved quickly and covering what she was doing with her body,
she ran her middle finger from Abby's darker entrance along her cunt crack
to her labia. After twisting herself to make it look as though she was
reaming Abby's arse she stood up and inspected the finger minutely.

"There you are darling," she said to Mark, "Clean as a whistle."

Abby knew that Charles had seen through the charade of reaming her arse
and waited for him to tell Mark, but evidently he felt it unnecessary to
tell his master of the fraud.

"Pity," said Mark, suddenly sounding much more sober, "I wondered how
she would cope with shit eating. Never mind, you can watch her suck me off
and swallow my come. Then you can give her marks out of six for technical
merit and artistic interpretation. On your knees and suck, whore."

Abby unzipped his trousers and took his soft penis in her mouth.

"Oh, and don't spill any on this suit," he added spitefully.

Abby had been here before with a previous boyfriend who was convinced that
the cure for brewer's droop was a blow-job. It hadn't ever worked on him
and she was afraid it wouldn't work on Mark. Her saviour was again the
strange woman. She lifted her wide skirt and stood close behind Mark.

Taking one of his hands and putting it firmly on her cunt she whispered to
him, 'Play with that while she sucks you, darling. That way I get some fun
too."

This extra stimulus hardened Mark's prick a good deal and after ten minutes
of ardent cock sucking Abby managed to bring him off, though the amount of
spunk he left in her mouth was tiny. As soon as he had finished, the
strange woman grabbed Abby's hair and hauled her head up into a deep
soul kiss. She was evidently scouring Abby's mouth for traces of Mark's
semen, and Abby didn't ever know whether she was satisfied with what she
found, for in a few seconds she dropped her unceremoniously on the floor.

"Come on darling," she sang out gaily, "We're going to the
Vie en Rose aren't we?"

With that the two of them left the room while Charles surveyed the
sobbing Abby with obvious contempt before following them.

Monday - Another Chance

A little after three on the Monday afternoon, the telephone rang in the
hotel and Abby answered it. When she heard Mark's voice she was pleased,
both that he had rung and that he was sober. Of course, she did not expect
an apology for the previous evening's abuse; it was part of what she had
agreed to, wasn't it?

"Abby, I'll pick you up at 5:30. We're having early dinner, then the Opera,
then a Night Club. I've decided to give you another chance to be what you
said you would be when you agreed to this weekend."

'Well thank you. I've tried my best,' she thought, but aloud she said,
"Thank you, Mark. I really will be everything you want tonight. I promise."

"5:30 then."

The telephone went dead.

Prompt at 5:30 Mark collected her from the suite and they went down to
dinner in the hotel itself. In the lift he mauled her breasts quite roughly
and Abby began to feel apprehensive about the rest of the evening.
Sitting facing Mark with her back to the restaurant, it was a relief to find
that there were only the two of them dining.

"Who was your friend last night?" she asked brightly by way of opening
the conversation.

"No idea," said Mark, "The Agencies advertise in a weekly magazine
called The Bulletin and I just rang one of them and they sent her. She
wasn't that good at her job. Better than you but not good."

Then he rose to excuse him self and as he passed her chair he bent down
as if to kiss her, but only laid his head against her cheek and slid one hand
inside her dress to luxuriate on her bare breast.

"Mark," she remonstrated quietly, "There are lots of people here."

He went off, to the toilet she assumed, and when he returned all the
conversation was light and friendly. Dinner was superb, as can be expected
from a top class hotel in a country as conscious of good food as the
Belgians.

After dinner they walked round the corner to the opera house.

As they settled into the box in the Theatre de la Monnaie, the lights dimmed
and the orchestra started the overture, and Mark put his arm around her and
caressed her breast again. Abby stirred uneasily, afraid people would
notice. Mark slid his other hand inside her dress as he had in the restaurant,
but she firmly took it out again. Then he moved her hand onto his trousers over
his erection and she snatched it away.

Whispering in his ear, she said, "Not here in public, please. Later, in bed."

At the end of the first act, Mark led a confused Abby out of the box and out
of the theatre. He marched away diagonally across the Place and round the
corner of the street. The first door was unmarked and Mark used a key to
open it.

"What's this?" she asked.

"It's where we are going now," said Mark in a steely voice, "Any
objections?"

"No, of course not; I only wondered," said Abby quickly.

Going up a very opulently furnished, if dimly lit staircase, they were met
by a girl who was wearing impossibly high-heeled shoes, a thong,
a broad-brimmed hat and a smile.

Mark reached out and openly caressed her breast as she said, "Welcome back,
sir," and made no objection to being mauled.

She led the way through a passage and into a night-club where they were
given a table near the stage with only a small banquette in a quarter circle
to sit on. Evidently it had been designed for two people who wanted to be
close together.

As they sat down, Mark slipped her dress off one shoulder, exposing her
breast, and fingered the nipple. There were people all round them and some
were openly watching Mark toying with her nudity. Abby was extremely
self-conscious and hastily pulled the dress back up to cover herself.
At that Mark moved away and Abby breathed a sigh of relief. Mark was
talking to someone on his mobile for some time, several calls it seemed. Then
he sat back to watch the cabaret. After a couple of minutes a woman
dressed in the house livery of almost nothing came and sat on his knees.
Mark's mobile rang and he answered it.

"Yes. Thanks. You can have her tonight if you like," he said to the
caller.

Turning to Abby he said, "Charles is outside to take you back to the
hotel. Wait there until I come."

When she stood up she saw Charles waiting by the entrance to the club's
main room and went over to join him. As she went she saw at least one other
woman in the club being fondled, and another one was on her knees in front
of her partner, though Abby couldn't see what she was doing. When she
reached Charles he said nothing but led the way down a different staircase
and out to the waiting Rolls-Royce.

When they were in the car, with Abby sitting in the front beside him,
Charles asked, "What did you do this time?"

"Nothing," said Abby, "We went to the opera and then had dinner, then
went to the night club, and then he rang for you to take me back."

"Did you hear what he said to me?"

"Yes, he said you could have me tonight if you wanted," Abby said
quietly.

"From Mark, that's an order to give you a hard night as a punishment.
If he had been pleased he would have slept with you himself," Charles
informed her, "That was the original plan. Now tell me exactly what happened,
starting in the restaurant."

Abby looked at Charles horrified at the thought that she had upset Mark
again.

"Well, we had dinner in the main restaurant at the Gastropole."

"And?" Charles prompted her.

"And nothing," said Abby mystified.

"Did you sit beside him?"

"No, of course not. I sat opposite him with my back to the room."

"It might have been a good idea to be within reach," observed Charles,
"Did anything happen?"

"Mark tried to feel me up, but it was a public restaurant so I stopped
him."

"Well, what happened then?"

"Then we went to the theatre, we sat in a box and Mark put his arm round me
and we watched the opera," she said.

"Did he touch you?" asked Charles.

"Yes he fondled my breast, but I didn't really want that in the theatre
where we might be -" her voice trailed off.

"Stupid girl. Nobody else can see into a box and you should have been
on the floor sucking his cock within five minutes of the thing starting.
Then you went to the Vie en Rose. What happened there?"

"Mark tried to ... well actually he did slip my dress off one breast
and stroked it where everyone could see. Of course I covered it up at
once."

Charles stopped the car outside the Gastropole and stared at her as
though she were mad.

"You refused to let him strip you in there? Didn't you see how the
staff girls were dressed? Didn't you look round. Half the women in there
would have been naked within seconds of going through the door; that's the
sort of club it is. Are you ever going to realise what you have been told
times, that you are here for his benefit and any pleasure or discomfort or
embarrassment for you is incidental? I knew it wouldn't work when he
said you weren't from an agency and were a total amateur," Charles fumed,
"Now I've got to fuck YOU tonight instead of what I had planned."

"You don't need to do that," Abby offered, "I won't tell."

"I don't cheat on my boss. He pays me well and I do exactly what he
wants," Charles sounded really angry now, "Only silly tarts like you take the
money and the good times and then cheat!"

In the suite, he didn't give her time to draw a breath before he tore
the dress off her and threw her on the bed.

"Don't move," he ordered.

Taking off his clothes quickly, he put on a condom.

As he thrust painfully into her still dry cunt he remarked, "I hate these
things, but god alone knows what you caught in rue Aerschot."

The pain went on for some minutes until her cunt finally responded and
her love juice began to flow a little. Eventually she became quite roused
and was close to coming when he withdrew abruptly.

"Over," he ordered, and when she didn't move fast enough he slapped a breast
and then her arse as it came into sight.

Again he plunged in with no preliminaries and again he hurt her. The only
sound in the room was her sobs and his grunts.

As what Abby felt must be a final insult he rolled her onto her back on the
bed, slipped the condom off, and wanked hard for the few jerks that were
necessary until he came with his jism squirting over her cunt, tits and
face. The he dragged her unkindly into the bathroom and dumped her in
the empty bath.

"You are a filthy tart now, aren't you?" he sneered, "Well we'll soon
fix that."

He let loose a jet of piss that soon washed the jism off her body and face
while Abby lay very still trying to keep her mouth and eyes tight shut.
The only time she had had a golden shower before was in a very loving scene
with a man she had wanted to marry and in the shower cubicle so that they
could wash her off afterwards. When he had finished, Charles turned away and
ran himself the shower.

Dressing in the bedroom, he shouted through to Abby, who had not yet
dared to get out of the bath, "There. Don't leave the hotel until Mark says
you can."

When she had showered, she found herself all alone in the suite and
fell on the soiled bed crying until she finally slept.

Tuesday - Home Again

Mark arrived as she was having breakfast the next morning. He still
looked angry and his first sentence left her in no doubt whatever.

"Pack your things and be ready to go in fifteen minutes when Charles
arrives. I've exchanged the booking on your ticket back to London so
you are on today's 11.01, and here's five hundred quid which ought to be
enough for your taxi home from Waterloo."

"I don't want your money," said Abby angrily, dropping the packet on
the table.

"Perhaps that's what's wrong," mused Mark, "When I hire an Escort
Agency girl she needs the money, never mind wants it."

With that he turned and left the suite. Abby hastily packed her things
and then, with a vicious smile, took the money and put it in her handbag.
If Mark thought she was going to let him off easily he had another thought
coming. An unsmiling Charles dropped her outside the Gare du Midi and
didn't offer to carry her bags. With a little effort she found a trolley
and checked in to the Eurostar terminal. It seemed to be doing its best to
look like an airport terminal. She thought with a wry smile that the
revolving doors not working made it just that little bit more authentically
airport.

Sitting waiting for the train to be called she contemplated the events of
what was, really, a disastrous weekend. She had not enjoyed much of it,
except the food which had been excellent. Mark had obviously wanted
something she had not known how to give him, willing though she was.
Finally she decided that it was Mark's fault for not telling her what she
was supposed to do. It was all very well saying that she was there
for his pleasure and not hers, but he had never really said what he wanted.
The episode in the real window, she had done because she thought
he wanted it; well perhaps he had, but it wasn't her fault he didn't like
the idea after it had happened.

Various other passengers came into the waiting area, and one caught her
eye. He was obviously British; he was blond. She remembered his
upper-class accent and the way he had really turned her on, and got her the sack
from rue Aerschot windows by making her scream with ecstasy as she came
within seconds of his big, bold, circumcised prick sinking into her. She felt
her pussy dampening at the memory. Would he speak?

Either he cut her dead, or perhaps didn't notice her as he went past and
turned into what called itself the European Free Shop, although there
was no duty free on the Eurostar and their prices were far from cheap.
Just then the train was called and Abby pushed her trolley up the little
ramp and then on to the escalator to the platform. Finding Coach Twelve was not
difficult as they had little signs along the platform with the number of the
coach beside each open door. Luggage aboard, she settled in her seat just
in time to see her blond demi-god enter through the same door. Well, in the
almost empty half-coach that was Twelve, he could hardly fail to see her.
Perhaps he wouldn't speak someone whom, after all, he had only met as a
low-class prostitute.

As he went past her seat, he stopped and said, "I'm sure we've met, but
I can't exactly place you. Have we met?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Abby, "but you may prefer to forget it."

"Oh, no," he replied, "but I thought you might not be willing to talk to
customers when you are off duty, so to speak."

The train started to move and so she indicated the seat opposite her.

"Do join me, if you don't mind," she said, "Are you going back home as
well?"

Reaching over the table, he offered his hand and volunteered, "I'm
Nigel, by the way."

Shaking his hand, Abby replied, "I'm Abigail, but my friends call me
Abby."

"Yes, my little stay in Belgium is over and it's back to the London
office tomorrow," Nigel said.

"Mmm, mine was only a weekend and now it's over, and it's back to the
City for me as well tomorrow."

"But I thought ..." he started, and then thought better of it.

"It's a long story," Abby said, as the steward came round with the
Champagne.

"Well, we've got well over two hours, if you want to tell me," offered
Nigel.

So over an excellent lunch the she told him the whole story as the
countryside of Belgium and then France flashed past at nearly two hundred
miles per hour. As they entered the tunnel she remembered the bit she had
left out, so she told him about the Moles Club.

"But I expect a regular traveller like you has been a member for ages?"
she asked.

"Oh, no. I couldn't," said Nigel with obvious distaste, "Not in the
loo on a train."

There was silence for some seconds then he added, "But if you would
like to have dinner with me, I would be delighted to entertain you."

"Sounds nice," said Abby, "but I'll need to change first."

"If you've all you need with you in those bags, then you could change
at my place," he offered.

"Fine," she murmured, and Nigel leant forward across the table and
kissed her full on the lips.

What felt like a long time later, as the train drew into Waterloo and Nigel
prepared to take her luggage down, Abby reflected that he had at least
kissed her, something Mark had not done, even once, during the weekend
he had paid for. As they got in the taxi Nigel gave his own address and Abby
sat back wondering where this would lead ...



If anyone's interested, I could tell you where it leads to ...

The real hard BDSM is in my seven novels (so far) which are available (for money)
on www.bdsmbooks.com, where I have my own library.

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