Seduction of a Chambermaid by Harry Tasker
Seduction of a Chambermaid "Mr Ross in Room 17 complained that his bed wasn't made properly yesterday." Louise rubbed her damp forehead with the back of her hand. Her friends were right: this wasn't much of a way to spend a Saturday. Some costly, frivolous shopping, a few lunch-time drinks in one of the trendier bars, all the time anticipating the prospect of the night ahead. Those were things Saturdays were meant for. Not making beds and cleaning bathrooms in a provincial hotel. The head housekeeper was still bitching. "And I want you to make sure the bridal suite is immaculate. We don't want any objections from today's happy couple." The old cow fixed her withering gaze on Louise. "Do we?" Louise shook her head. "Of course not, Mrs Coombes." Mrs Coombes peered into Louise's face, sniffed haughtily and strode off towards the reception desk. Louise watched her go, venom in her eyes. Sarah, another of the weekend chambermaids, walked over from the main dining room. "What was the old bitch moaning about this time?" "One of the bedrooms wasn't made up properly yesterday and Coombes seems to think that it's my fault. Doesn't she remember that I'm at college during the week?" Sarah laughed. "She likes keeping the part-timers on their toes. She was ranting at me earlier about the state of the bridal suite from five weeks ago." "If I didn't need the money, I'd tell her where to stick her lousy job." Sarah looked at Louise carefully. "Do I take it from your mood that we won't be seeing you in town this evening?" "Good guess." Louise laughed bitterly. "The books get priority tonight." Sarah shook her head. "I imagine your so-called boyfriend will be out enjoying himself, though." Louise glanced away, saying nothing. Confident Sarah. Beautiful Sarah. Never without a boyfriend, or a queue of would-be suitors to chose someone new from. So easy for her to be critical, to be dismissive. Oh, to be blessed with just a glimmer of that assuredness. "Louise, you're a fool. When you should be studying during the week, he wants to see you. And then every weekend while you're cramming the books trying to catch up, he's out having a good time . . . " Sarah stopped abruptly. "It's ok. I've heard all the stories." Sarah's face flushed. "Well, if you ask me, you should give him a taste of his own medicine." Louise laughed bitterly. "And who would want me?" "Most men, if you'd lift your head out of the books long enough to give them a chance." Sarah pursed her lips. "So?" "So what?" "So what are you going to do about it?" Louise looked at her friend carefully, and then smiled. "I'm going to go upstairs to make sure room 17 is nice and tidy for Mrs Coombes." * * * * * * * Number 17 was located at the far end of the second floor, the furthest room from the main staircase and the small lift that served the hotel. There was no 'Do not disturb' sign hanging from the door knob. Louise knocked twice. No answer. She checked her watch: well after eleven. She slipped her pass key into the lock and let herself inside. The double bed was totally astray; duvet, sheets, pillows, all spread indiscriminately about the queen-sized mattress. Louise sighed. It wasn't the first time a guest had extracted a moment's petty revenge in return for services they felt they'd been denied. She yanked the crumpled sheets from the bed, dropping them in a bundle on the floor. She folded the quilt and stacked the pillows neatly, then turned towards the door to fetch fresh linen. As she walked, she noticed the barely open bathroom door, and simultaneously heard the splashing of water from inside. Louise froze. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she listened to the splashing. Why hadn't the man said anything? Probably feeling as awkward as she did, hoping that she would realise the room wasn't empty and just leave. She started for the door. She half turned the handle and then stopped. She looked back towards the bathroom. Mr Ross was a complainer, and a petty complainer at that. A quick taste of humiliation might be a fitting retaliation. Louise knocked on the bathroom door, and stepped through onto the tiled floor without waiting for an answer. "Mr R-" There was already a picture of Mr Ross in her head. Early to mid-fifties, bald, overweight, with owlish glasses and varicose veins. The reality did not compare well with her imagination. Room 17's occupant was in his early forties. His thick hair was prematurely steel-grey, the only part of him that didn't come as a complete surprise. His tanned, lean body was stretched out as fully as the narrow hotel bath would allow, the heels of his feet resting on the edge of the bath on either side of the taps. Mr Ross did not turn to question Louise's intrusion. The cable from the headphones he wore over his ears ran down to a small CD player sitting on a low stool beside the bath. Louise could hear faint classical music escaping out into the room. But none of this really held her attention. Oblivious to the presence of his chambermaid, Mr Ross continued to stroke the thick shaft of his cock with his right hand. His left hand floated near the surface of the bubbled water. Louise could see that his fingers were alternating between stirring the heavy balls, and pressing a spot midway between his testicles and his anus. Louise swallowed with difficulty. At nineteen, she thought she had amassed enough experience of the opposite sex to consider herself 'a woman'. She had always dismissed tales of oversized men as fanciful at best. But here was proof. He was huge. As she gaped, Mr Ross rolled back his foreskin, exposing a bulbous, crimson cockhead. The shaft looked at least nine inches long, as dark as the rest of Mr Ross and lined with heavy veins that nurtured his evident arousal. Quick! Leave! The man had complained about a poorly made bed. If he turned around now, saw her watching him intently, she would lose her job for sure. But despite her fear and embarrassment, something held her in place. Her eyes seemed unwilling, unable, to relinquish the sight before her. As she watched, she was distantly aware of other sensations, of unsettling ripples that coursed through her belly, of sly heat blooming between her thighs. Mr Ross' hips began lifting out of the water, timed to meet the stroking of his hand over his shaft. His face contorted, his pace quickening. Some water splashed over the edge of the bath and pooled on the tiles below. Louise felt the divide within her widen. Fight or flight? Flight was obvious. But what would fight mean? Confronting him? Yelling her disgust at him? Joining him? The sense of confusion was awesome. Her feet inched backwards of their own accord, while her trembling hands clutched the edge of the door as though to anchor her to the experience. She hovered at the threshold. Each breath seemed to snag in her chest. She knew she was becoming moist behind the thin white veil of her cotton panties. A hundred taboo images flickered through her mind like a film gone wild. One hand had strayed almost to the hem of her skirt before the remnants of her rationality dragged it back. And then it happened. Mr Ross groaned deeply, and Louise stared as jet after jet of thick white fluid spurted from the narrow opening in his cockhead. The come splattered across Mr Ross' chest and belly, clinging to his skin in places, slipping down into the water in others, and for a wild, thrilling moment she wondered how it would be to feel it splashing across her own skin. Oh God! As Mr Ross squeezed the last remnants of ejaculate from his cock, he turned his head languidly towards the bathroom door. His clear blue eyes locked with Louise's, and for the few seconds that passed before her limbs felt able to respond to her once more, she thought she saw the hint of an arrogant smile forming across his lips. Flight! "I'm sorry," she stammered, already spinning away from the bathroom. "I'll come back later." "Hey!" Louise closed her ears to his shouts, sprinting for the door. * * * * * * * Sarah found her sitting alone in what passed for the staff lounge. Sarah poured them both a coffee and then sat down opposite Louise. "What's wrong?" Sarah asked. "Has the old bat been having a go again?" "Huh?" Louise looked up, trying to push the vicarious images from her head. "No, I haven't seen Mrs Coombes since I saw you." Sarah waited. "What was it then?" "What was what?" "Whatever it was that's managed to make you look more miserable than you did an hour ago." Louise considered saying nothing. But Sarah was a good friend. Even better, she was discreet. Louise swallowed a mouthful of coffee, and then recanted the entire episode. By the end, Sarah looked as flushed as she felt herself. But even through the fear and the shame, there was still that feeling of . . . something. Sarah drained the last of her coffee and shook her head. "You actually saw him-" "Yes," Louise said abruptly. Mrs Coombes was loitering near the entrance to the staff lounge. "Haven't you finished those yet, girls?" "Just coming," Sarah said sweetly. Mrs Coombes hovered a few seconds longer, then disappeared. Her flat-heeled shoes clacked heavily down the narrow corridor. "Bitch," said Sarah. She pushed the two empty cups together on the small table, and leaned forward conspiratorially. "So what was this Mr Ross like?" "He was good-looking, I suppose. Older than-" "You know what I'm talking about." Sarah grinned. "Was he a big boy?" Louise blushed, the image of Ross vivid in her mind. "Very." "Really?" Louise nodded. Sarah said nothing for a few seconds, her eyes far away. "What do you think will happen?" "Aren't I supposed to ask you that?" Louise sat back in her seat. "I don't know. He complained about a badly-made bed. What's he likely to say about a chambermaid who watched him . . . " "That was as much his fault." Sarah's finger wagged seriously. "He could have used the 'do not disturb' sign like he was meant to." Her expression became thoughtful. "Perhaps he wanted to be caught. There are plenty of people who get off on being watched." "And how would you know?" Sarah winked. "I'm not always a good convent girl," she said, and then she laughed. Louise joined her. The laughter felt good, refreshing. Sarah smiled. "So what next?" Louise shrugged. "Sit tight, wait to see if he complains. Perhaps he'll be too embarrassed to say anything. I hope so. If he reports me, I'll lose my job." "So go and see him first. Explain that it was just an innocent mistake." "Innocent mistake?" Louise leant close. "He caught me watching him masturbating!" Sarah shrugged. "So? Hardly qualifies as crime of the century, does it?" "Maybe not." There was a loud clacking approaching the doorway. Mrs Coombes frowned at the two girls. "Sarah! Room twenty three isn't going to clean itself. It needs to be finished before one." Sarah rolled her eyes inconspicuously. "On my way, Mrs Coombes." The head housekeeper turned to leave and then stopped. "Oh, Louise?" "Yes, Mrs Coombes?" "There's a guest who'd like a word with you. Mr Ross, from room 17. You'll find him in the main lounge." * * * * * * * The fully-dressed version of Mr Ross was sitting at the marble-topped bar. There was a glass of tomato juice on a coaster in front of him. His clear blue eyes found Louise's in the mirror beneath the row of optics. He turned round slowly on his bar stool, and smiled warmly. "Hello, Louise." "Err . . . hello." Mr Ross' clothes - a plain, mid-blue shirt, and sand-coloured chinos - were well-cut, barely hinting at the muscled body she had seen barely forty minutes ago. They looked expensive. Scarcely worn tan deck-shoes adorned his bare feet. His only pieces of visible jewellery were a chunky watch on a heavy steel strap, and a plain gold wedding band on the fourth finger of his left hand. Ross ran his hand across a chin lightly dusted with stubble. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you earlier. I wasn't expecting any . . . callers at that time. But then you probably realised that." Louise nodded, feeling her cheeks burn again. "Are you going to make a complaint about me, Mr . . . Ross?" "Do you think I should?" His gaze narrowed inscrutably. There was something in his air of arrogant authority that provoked her. "I can't advise you on that. It's a decision for you." Ross nodded. "And what would happen if I did complain?" Louise said nothing. "I imagine that you'd lose your job, especially if I kicked up enough of a stink." "Probably," Louise said after a few seconds. "Almost certainly, I'd say." Ross sipped at his tomato juice. "Is this a full-time job, Louise?" "I'm a college student. I only do this at weekends." "So the money's important?" "Yes." She could have added 'very' or 'extremely'. But why give him more reason to gloat? Ross put down his glass. "I won't be making a complaint, Louise." Louise felt the tightness in her chest ease. "Thank you," she said, beginning to smile. Ross raised a hand. "There is a condition though." Louise felt her smile drain away. "What is it?" Ross motioned for her to take the stool next to him. "I'm a stranger in town, on important business. Hence my being here at a weekend. I have several clients coming to see me this evening, and I've decided to entertain them here at the hotel. In my room, in fact." He ran a hand through his steel-grey hair. "I'd like to try and achieve a certain . . . ambience, shall we say? I'd like to have some staff to assist me, to take care of the menial stuff, while I get on with the dealing." He smiled. "Would you be interested in helping me out?" Louise sat back a fraction. "It's not really a request, is it?" Ross shook his head. "I'm not trying to blackmail you, Louise. If you don't want to help me, you don't have to. It won't make me change my mind about the complaint." "No?" "No." he raised his hand again, the middle three fingers upright. "Scout's honour." Louise looked away. "I'm not sure." "Ah," said Ross, nodding. "You already have a date with your boyfriend." "No, not tonight. It's just that . . . " "Louise, I really need some help. It's not the most glamorous of offers, but I'll make it worth your while." He looked at her seriously. "I'll pay you one hundred pounds for the night's work. Eight until midnight. Just a bit of fetching and carrying. What do you say?" Louise shook her head. "I don't know what to say." "That's easy," Ross said. "Say yes." "Can I think about it for a while?" Ross glanced at his watch. "I really need to know within the next hour. So that I can make some other arrangements." Louise slid off the bar stool. She was conscious of the way her skirt rode up over her thighs, and of the way that Ross' eyes seemed to follow her flesh. "I'll get back to you soon." "I know you will." * * * * * * * Louise found Sarah emerging from room 23. She pressed her back into the room and closed the door behind them. She explained the proposition. After a minute Sarah still hadn't answered. "So?" Sarah's eyes screwed up thoughtfully. "Do you really think it's a straight offer?" "I'm not sure." Louise pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. "He seems genuine. And I could really use a hundred pounds." Sarah laughed. "What for?" Louise ignored the remark. "Besides, what could happen here in the hotel? I'll make sure everybody knows where I am and what I'm doing." "I think I'd pass. It sounds . . . " Sarah shook her head. "It sounds what?" "I don't know. A little weird." "You're just jealous because for once it's me that got asked to dance." Louise opened the door. "Louise?" "What?" The concern on Sarah's face looked genuine. "Just make sure that you get what you want." * * * * * * * Ross was on the same bar stool when she returned. Louise walked as confidently as she could towards him. This time his eyes did not find hers in the mirror. "Mr Ross?" Ross looked up from his tomato juice. "Hello, Louise. Do I take it you've made a decision?" "Yes." She swallowed. "I'll do it." The pleasure on Ross' face appeared as genuine as Sarah's concern. "Good. I'll see you at my room, eight p.m." His eyes twinkled. "I think you know where it is." Louise turned to leave. "Oh, Louise?." "Yes?" Ross smiled. "Please make sure you're wearing your maid's outfit." * * * * * * * She started getting ready at six p.m. The anticipation had been balling up in the pit of her stomach for hours. First she showered off the remnants of the day, washing and conditioning her hair, before soaking luxuriously for a whole hour in a camomile bath. Each time she closed her eyes she saw Ross' hand working slowly up and down his thick cock, and each time she experienced the strangely disconcerting ripples through her core, and the heat rising between her legs. She dried herself, then started to put on her plain working underwear. For some reason she hesitated, then dropped the white cotton back onto the bed and returned to her underwear draw. Her eyes roamed over the scattered items inside. After a few moments, she pulled out a black bra with lacy cups and matching panties. She was about to close the drawer when the suspender belt in the corner caught her eye. Without really knowing why, other than that it felt right, she picked up the belt, and then, after a few seconds' more hunting, a pair of sheer black stockings. She dressed in front of the full-length wall mirror. Her hands trembled fractionally when she fastened her bra, and clipped the four suspenders to her stocking tops. She gazed at her reflection. It was one she had not seen often. How many times had she dressed so deliberately provocatively? Twice? Three times? And always for Martin. Never for herself though. She almost felt embarrassed. The top halves of both nipples were visible through the bra's lace front, and the light shimmered decadently against her stockinged thighs. You look like a slut, she thought. But an attractive slut nonetheless. There was no denying that her reflection looked good. Louise smiled, then set about applying her make-up. "Taxi's here," her mother called from downstairs. "Ok." She examined her reflection again. The black blouse and knee-length skirt looked serious, almost severe. Where's the slut now? The medium heeled shoes leant her height without robbing her of grace. The final touch was a mist of Chanel applied to the insides of her wrists and the side of her neck. As though inspired by the same muse who had influenced her choice of lingerie, she sprayed some perfume into her cleavage. Then she went downstairs * * * * * * * The door to room 17 opened just as Louise prepared to knock. "Hello again," said Mr Ross. His dark-blue suit looked formal, business-like. There was no denying that he was an attractive man. He opened the door wide and offered her the room. "Hello," Louise said, stepping hesitantly inside. "It's just us," Ross said. "My guests won't be here for quarter of an hour or so." He closed the door, then took Louise's heavy coat. "Can I get you a drink?" Louise looked at him carefully. "I thought I was here to work." "You are." Ross smiled his big, reassuring smile. "But that doesn't mean you're here to have a miserable time. Surely I can offer you some refreshment?" "I'd like a Coke if you have one." Ross moved to the large selection of bottles lined up on the bureau. "I think you can afford to have something a little stronger than a soft drink, Louise." His expression was warm and encouraging. Louise smiled back. "A Bacardi and Coke then, please." "That's better," Ross said. He handed her a three-quarters full glass. Louise took a sip. It was very strong, but the warm alcohol sliding down her throat felt good. She took a long pull on her drink. "What exactly will I be doing tonight?" she asked. "General waitressing, I'm afraid, " Ross answered. He sat down in one of the four chairs arranged around the square coffee table. "There are hors d'oeuvres in the fridge, and obviously you'll be responsible for ensuring that nobody has an empty glass for too long." He smiled. "Sounds easy enough." "It is." Ross pulled a leather wallet from the inside of his expensive looking suit jacket. His wedding ring glinted in the soft light. Its presence reassured her. Ross pulled out five crisp twenty pound notes. There was a great deal of money left inside. Ross held out the notes to Louise. "This should be the easiest hundred pounds you've ever made." Louise reached for the money. Ross' fingers were warm and dry. By contrast, the notes felt cold and sharp in her palm. "Will it be purely business tonight?" "I hope not," Ross laughed. "I'm trying to impress them, so the emphasis will be on having a good time. I imagine someone will produce a deck of cards at some point. High stakes poker tends to be a habit at this sort of shindig." The first guests arrived as Louise was setting out the last of the hors d'oeuvres plates. Two more married men (from the wedding rings on their left hands), both in their early forties, both wearing ties and dark suits. Louise showed them into the room, and then waited while Ross greeted them. "This is Louise," Ross gestured when the handshaking was over. "She's going to be taking care of us tonight." Louise smiled thinly and nodded hello. Ross waved his friends to sit down. "Drinks?" Both men nodded. The first - Mr Ross had called him Tom - asked for a vodka and tonic. The other man, Philip, had requested a whiskey in a London accent: "No water or ice if it's a single malt." Louise poured the drinks. The men were talking business amongst themselves, but she could sense their eyes moving over her whenever her back was to them. The neck of the whisky bottle chattered briefly against the wide tumbler. She hadn't thought this through properly. The prospect of a hundred pounds for a few hours easy work had seduced her common sense. She placed the glasses on a tray and carried them over to the waiting men. She tried smiling. Putting herself in this situation, alone in a hotel room with three strangers, was a mistake, something she wasn't used to making. But even as she cursed herself, there was another feeling. It was not dissimilar to the sense she experienced whenever a good-looking boy's gaze locked with hers at a nightclub, or when someone she felt attracted to asked her out for a date. It was the flush that came from knowing you were desirable, and even here, in this room with these strangers, it was not an entirely unpleasant sensation. The man called Tom stood up and walked over to the window. It was full dark outside, and he pressed his nose to the glass as he gazed into the street below. He was as tall and lean as Ross, with a blonde crew-cut and a narrow, sculpted face. "Good choice," he said. His voice, like Ross', sounded educated, refined. Ross nodded. "I thought so." Tom turned around and looked at Louise. She felt herself tremble a little at the way his eyes roamed over her body. She glanced away from his devastating gaze, only to notice that the man called Philip looked equally entranced with her. There was another knock at the door. Louise turned to look at Ross. "Would you mind getting that for me?" he asked. This time there was a single person at the door. He was about the same age as the others, smart but casually dressed in an open necked shirt, chinos and a three-quarter length brown leather jacket. A thin scar showed whitely down his tanned cheek. His eyes appeared almost black in the low light. "Hello," he said, in a hard, neutral voice. "Stuart is expecting me." "Stuart?" Louise looked at him blankly. "Oh, you mean Mr Ross." "That's right." Louise stepped to one side, blushing. The new arrival handed her his leather jacket and walked over to meet his host. Ross stood up. "Good to see you, Jack." "You too." The two men shook hands. Then the new arrival glanced back over his shoulder at Louise. "I've been looking forward to being entertained all day." * * * * * * * By eleven o'clock, a good deal of the alcohol on the bureau was gone. The four men had talked business for over an hour, while Louise tip-toed around them, serving food and refilling glasses. Then, just as Stuart Ross had predicted, a deck of cards had materialised on the coffee table. The poker was ruthless, deep piles of notes sliding back and forth across the varnished surface with alarming alacrity. No one seemed able to achieve dominance over the proceedings. Louise watched from the sidelines, fascinated by the high stakes, and by the way the four men pursued each others money. She finished her drink. Was it her fifth or sixth? The room suddenly seemed very stuffy and confined. It almost felt as though she were floating. It was definitely her last. As she placed her empty glass down on the bureau, Stuart Ross materialised at her side. Behind her, Louise could hear the others still talking animatedly about the last hand. "Another drink?" Ross asked, refilling his own glass. "No, I think I've reached my limit, thanks." "Don't be silly. I'll make sure you get your taxi." Philip, the businessman from the south-east, called over to them from across the room. "I'm bored with taking your money now, Stuart." "What would you suggest as an alternative, then?" Philip rifled the deck of cards with his thumb. "How about a few hands of strip poker?" "Only if the maid will play with us," Tom laughed. Jack watched Louise thoughtfully. "Not a bad idea." Louise smiled mock-regretfully. "Thanks for the invitation," she said. "But I'll have to decline." The three men sighed collectively. Louise froze as a hand touched her hip. Stuart Ross' mouth pressed down against her bare neck, as the same hand slipped across the front of her skirt. "Don't be so quick to decline, Louise," he whispered against her skin. "Not when you're so exquisitely dressed for any game." Louise twisted to pull away, but Ross wrapped his free arm around her chest, pulling her tight against him and binding her arms to her sides. "What the hell do you think-" Louise watched almost unbelievingly as Ross' other hand disappeared beneath her skirt. His palm moved fast up her legs, hardly pausing to plunder the creamy, bare flesh at the tops of her thighs. When his hand started to press inside the front of her lacy panties, she acted. She stamped down and backwards, aiming instinctively for Ross' instep. Her heel connected with something, and Ross cursed, and then laughed. The grip about her shoulders never eased for a second. Ross' fingers raked down through the luxuriant curls that adorned her mound, and then Louise gasped as first one finger, and then a second, made contact with her clitoris. Louise's eyes closed and she sagged back against Ross. For an instant she felt like she was floating, as though she could turn around at any moment and watch from a safe distance as this happened to somebody else. Not to her. Not to her. Get a grip, her mind screamed. It was difficult, holding onto the angry, bitter thoughts of resistance in her mind. This is wrong. Wrong. The two fingers were rotating around her clitoris, slowly, delicately, skilfully, mercilessly. Wrong. Over and around, over and around, over and around, tracing the delicate bud in endless patterns. Wrong. She struggled against Ross' unyielding grip. Wrong. But nice. So nice. "Don't," she whimpered. She had meant to shout the word, to scream it, but a whimper was all that emerged from her mouth. She hadn't invited his touch. So why wasn't she yelling loudly enough to shatter glass? What's wrong with you? "Don't," she whimpered again, but no one seemed to hear her. She could barely hear herself. Wrong. Nice. Wrong. Nice. She didn't want his touch. Did she? Did she? No. Yes. No. Yes. It was hard trying to keep her thoughts coherent, with the cries of resistance in her head, and the delicious waves of pleasure flowing out from her core. Her sex was wet, and getting wetter with every devilish revolution of his fingertips. She could feel Ross' erection hard against her buttocks, thrusting desperately, futilely, against her ass. She knew what he thinking about. He wanted to slide that long, wide cock inside her, wanted to FUCK HER with it over and over again. The knowledge terrified and excited her all at once Ross slowly withdrew his hand from Louise's panties, and though a part of her mind cried out with relief, another part wailed in frustration. It was hard to know which was the louder voice. Ross lifted his fingers to his nose and inhaled. Then he slipped them into his mouth. "Delicious," he purred. Before Louise could react, Ross' hand was inside her panties once more, fingers probing softly between her swollen labia, along the line of her ever-moistening cleft. Louise gasped as Ross crooked two fingers and eased them up inside her. Wrong. Nice. Stop. Don't stop. Her head swam, and she hardly noticed the arm that had pinned her arms to her sides relaxing its steel-like hold. Ross' other hand slipped inside the front of her panties, and he began stroking her clitoris as he leisurely finger-fucked her. Louise closed her eyes, imagining a guitar being strummed and plucked by sensual, Latin fingers. From somewhere she heard a voice moaning "Oh, yes" over and over and over again. After a while, she realised that the voice was her own. "Help me to get her ready," Ross said in a low voice, still kissing and biting gently down the side of Louise's neck. Louise opened her eyes dreamily. The other men stood around her in a rough semi-circle. They were all completely naked. Three hard cocks jutted hungrily towards her. The knowledge that all three were for her flooded her senses. Without another word, Jack got down on his knees before her. He untied her apron, and then slid his fingers along the waistband of her skirt until they encountered the fastenings. The skirt hardly made a sound as it slid to the floor and pooled around her shoes. As though in a trance, Louise lifted her feet in turn to allow Jack to remove the skirt from around her ankles. Tom quickly moved to stand behind her, replacing Ross even as Ross stepped away so that he could undress. Philip stepped forward to join the throng, his fingers slowly moving over the buttons of her blouse. His level gaze held hers all the time. Like the others, he was attractive in a rugged, rather cruel way. The last button gave way before Philip's hands, and Tom slid the blouse from her shoulders and dropped it on the floor behind him. Louise glanced down. The outlines of her hard nipples were clearly visible through the black lace of her bra. As she looked at herself, Tom's fingers traced down the narrow ridge of her spine until they found the slender bra clasp. He unclipped it effortlessly, and Philip gradually eased the bra down her arms, revealing her full, aching breasts. All the time, Jack's calm hands ran up and down her nylon-sheathed legs, as he planted kisses against the naked flesh above her stockings. Something hard and insistent pressed against the inside of Louise's calf. She closed her eyes again, concentrating on feeling only the hard thing as it thrust back and forth against her flesh. A cock her mind whispered. Jack's cock. A part of her was desperate to feel it against her naked skin. Philip gazed at her body with eyes brimming with lust. "Leave the stockings," he said in a low voice. "Yes," Tom said dreamily. "Leave the stockings." Jack's strong fingers hooked into the waistline of her panties and with a sudden, irresistible force, he tore the delicate material apart. He paused to examine the remnants, exploring them with his eyes and his fingers. He raised the gusset to his nose and inhaled deeply. Louise waited, breathlessly. She didn't think she could say no now, even if she wanted to. Her voice felt like it was locked away, somewhere deep inside her. Jack dropped the remnants of her panties to the floor, and slid his warm hands between the soft flesh of her closed thighs. Gently but undeniably, he pressed them apart. Then, gazing straight into her eyes along the length of her supine body, he pressed his mouth between Louise's thighs and eased his tongue inside her already soaking cunt. Louise cried out, a long, animal wail of pleasure. Her eyelids were too heavy for her to stop them closing, and her head lolled back against Tom's broad shoulder. Her entire body was a mass of sensation, as hands slid up over her belly to cup her heavy breasts, fingers moved to pinch the taut, cherry-pink nipples. From somewhere, lips began stitching kisses across the soft flesh of her right breast, advancing towards its erect tip. A second mouth worked on her left breast, suckling incessantly upon the stiff peak. Jack's warm tongue slipped along her soaking cleft towards her clitoris. Round and round it went, circling the delicate nub without ever quite touching it, teasing her remorselessly. Louise tried sliding her hips, to move her clitoris into a collision with his skilful tongue. The more she moved, the more his tongue darted away. Eventually, he ceased caressing her legs, and sank his fingers into her buttocks to hold her steady, so that his tongue only went where he wanted it to. A part of her still wanted to resist, wanted to scratch and kick and scream and bite and tear and gouge. But that part of her was small, lost for now, buried by her desire, her lust, by the pleasure coursing through her body. It would return, and when it did it would be the voice of shame and regret. Perhaps. But those were concepts beyond her for the time. Now she knew which voice was louder, which voice was in control. She felt restricted, confined, desperate to move. She longed to feel her own hands running over her breasts and belly, in company with those of the strangers on either side of her. She wanted to hear the hiss of her stockinged thighs sliding back and forth against each other, squeezing her throbbing clitoris tight between the swollen lips of her sex. Jack's tongue flashed against her clitoris, driving a harsh cry of pleasure from her lips. Immediately, he resumed his slow circling of the precious bud, then made another lightening strike that barely grazed her clitoris, but which bucked her hips wildly despite the tight grip on her ass. Tom's rigid shaft nestled between the globes of her backside, and began to thrust slowly up and down the slender channel. Philip's cock rested against her belly, smearing a dew-drop of come against her skin. Oh, I'm so fucking horny! Jack pulled back from her. As though he had plucked the thought from her mind, he said: "I think she's ready now." She looked down at him through half-open eyes. His gaze was dark and dangerous, his face hungry and demanding. His mouth and chin gleamed with her juices. "Yes," she heard Ross' voice say. She turned her head to face him. Ross stood a few feet away, watching as the other men pleasured her. His hand moved languidly back and forth along his massive cock. "I believe you're right." Jack slid his hands down onto her ankles and stood up. Her legs came off the ground as though she were weightless. As Jack moved, Tom pivoted smoothly from behind her to cradle her right side, while Philip moved quickly to cradle her left. The three men carried her with ease across the room. The sensation that she could just float away and watch as though it were happening to someone else overtook her again. They laid her softly on the bed, then, unexpectedly, rolled her onto her belly. Jack took hold of Louise's hips and pulled her up into a kneeling position, while Tom and Philip held her arms to keep her upper body pressed against the mattress. Her feet dangled over the bed's edge, and her breasts were tight against the counterpane. She was being offered. Louise struggled to turn her head and look behind her. She watched as Jack moved aside, allowing Ross, their leader, to take his place. He was to be the first to sample her flesh. The first of many. The thought made Louise feel dizzy. Ross crouched behind her, and his hands gently pressed her cheeks apart, opening her most intimate self to his gaze. "Quite lovely," he said, softly stroking the swollen labia with his fingertips. "Quite, quite lovely." Louise watched his head dip towards her, and, almost at once, felt his hot tongue rake down her glistening valley. Again, she cried out in passion, this time forcing her eyes to stay open. Ross smiled back at her. "And so very delicious," he said. He stood up. He ran his fingers between her labia, and then transferred her juices to his cock. Louise felt the enormous cockhead probe gently between her burning labia. His size terrified and thrilled her. The broad shaft slid up and down in the cleft of her ass, the underside of the head grazing her anus at the apex of each thrust. Then the direction reversed, so that with each stroke, the cockhead and the top of the shaft dragged across her clitoris, inflaming her still further. Louise gasped with each agonisingly slow thrust. Eventually, Ross dragged his cockhead up through her drenched slit. She felt it sink slightly into her, so that it was nuzzling at the opening to her sex. Ross sighed. "I knew you were the one, Louise. The moment I saw the hunger in your eyes as you watched me pleasuring myself, I knew you were going to be the one for us." Louise cried out as Ross' immense cock slowly buried itself in the depths of her cunt, filling her as she had never been filled before. She felt his cockhead touch the bottom of her womb, and simultaneously, his heavy balls come to rest against her clitoris. Then he began to thrust in and out, poised, even strokes that seemed to take forever because of his exceptional length. The pressure on her arms that was holding her down faded. Louise rubbed her face against the soft bedcovers as she lost herself in the ecstasy of the flesh. Someone climbed onto the bed ahead of her, and a strong hand cupped her chin, lifting her face. Louise looked up. Jack knelt before her, leisurely massaging his shaft with one hand. He slipped his free hand onto the back of her head, and pulled her mouth towards his cock. Louise's mind struggled to form the word. Never before had she taken a man into her mouth. She had thought about it, sometimes even felt a wild urge to do it. But something about the act had always seemed forbidden, taboo. The cockhead pressed against her bright red lips, then drew back. She could see traces of her lipstick smearing across it. "Please-" "Hush," Jack said softly. "Pleasure me. You'll enjoy it too." "N-" "Suck my cock, Louise." Louise felt hands return to her breasts, sensuously kneading her flesh, pinching the taut nipples until she whimpered, while all the time Ross' fat cock continued to fuck her steadily into ecstasy. And inevitably, her body overwhelmed by a myriad of sexual sensation, Louise opened her lips, and Jack's cock slid easily into her willing mouth. Louise hesitated for a moment, and then some deep, carnal instinct took over. Her tongue began to flick and swirl across the straining cockhead, eager to take experience, to give pleasure. His cock had a manly, slightly piquant taste and odour. Jack lifted her hand, and placed it onto his shaft. Louise dipped the tip of her tongue into the narrow opening at the end of the cock, and slowly drew the foreskin forward. She tasted the small drop of pre-come, and swallowed it greedily. Her fingers moved between his thighs and delicately stroked the heavy balls. She cupped them in her palm, marvelling at their weight. "Yes!" Jack hissed between clenched teeth. Louise began to slide her mouth back and forth along his shaft, and he placed his hands on the back of her head to control the pace of their oral fucking. The bed creaked as the men on either side of Louise moved closer. Something hard and unyielding pressed against her right breast, and she glanced down the length of her inverted body to see Tom rubbing the end of his cock against her taut nipple, still stroking himself all the time. The same sensation appeared against her left breast, as Philip pressed his own cock into her flesh. Ross placed his hands over her hips, binding her to him. The point of their union trembled and sparked, building towards an orgasm which threatened to drown Louise's meagre experience. The intensity frightened her. Even so, she drove herself back to meet his thrusts, her cunt aching to be flooded with warm come. Ross slipped one hand down her belly until his palm nestled against her mound. His fingers settled over her throbbing clitoris, and began caressing it in time to the strokes of his endless cock. Louise's orgasm blossomed before Ross' artful manipulation of her body. She quickened the pace of her mouth over Jack's shaft, tightening her lips into a smooth 'o' for his cock to fuck. She was desperate to share the divine pleasure that filled her. The two cocks against her nipples were stoking her lust even higher. Orgasm was like death. For a moment there were no sounds, no sensations. Just a blinding light, like a flashgun fired inside her mind. Then pleasure, an incredible outrush of pleasure, wider and faster and stronger than anything she had ever anticipated. Like the wall of debris sweeping out from an explosion, it tore through her, jangling her like a helpless marionette. Louise screamed, felt a strong hand clamp across her mouth to quieten her, screamed again and again. Every part of her felt alive, every atom dancing in rapture. And at the eye of the storm, her cunt, overloaded with sensation, pulsing in ecstasy. The brilliance before her eyes faded. Jack's hard cock hovered inches from her face. She couldn't even remember taking it out of her mouth. The memory of its presence had been battered away. Louise reached for the straining organ, slipped it back between her lips. How quickly we learn, a distant part of her mind whispered. Louise didn't care. She had no time for inner monologues. She was like a punch drunk boxer; all that mattered was the next hit, the next blinding sensation. She sucked hard on Jack's cockhead, stroking his shaft at a near frantic speed. Jack cried out, his body locked rigid, trembling as if an electric current coursed through his veins. Louise felt the underside of his shaft spasm against her tongue. She withdrew slightly, not certain if she could cope with his orgasm. A jet of warm sperm splashed across her cheek. Jack pulled her head back towards him, and his slippery cock slid back inside her mouth, jerking as another surge of come splashed over her tongue. Louise swallowed desperately, afraid to stop, yet relishing the salty-sweet taste of his seed. With only the bulbous glans of his cock in her mouth, Jack gripped his shaft and wanked himself into Louise's mouth. She swallowed everything, even reaching up to fondle his balls to ensure he held nothing back from her. Jack's wilting cock slipped from between her come-slicked lips. Louise fell forward, panting, hardly aware that Ross had also withdrawn from her flesh. To her left, Philip was stretching out on his back on his side of the bed. He slipped himself towards the centre, carefully lifting Louise's knee to allow him to slip between her thighs. Once again, rational thought deserted her as he positioned himself at the entrance to her sex, and slid his hard cock inside her. Oh God! Is this really happening to me? Her cunt, though achingly aware of the reduced dimensions, grasped Philip's shaft eagerly between its velvety walls. She began to rise and fall on the new cock, enjoying the delicious way Philip's pubic bone pressed against her clitoris each time he entered her to the hilt. Philip lifted his head, suckled on her nipples in turn. His tongue swirled over the stiff crowns, his teeth gently pulling on her sensitive flesh. Louise groaned, losing herself in the rhythm of their mating. She reached behind herself to fondle his balls. "No, no," Tom's voice said from behind her. "That won't do." Someone moved her hand aside, and Louise felt the tip of a stiff cock press against her tightly puckered ass. She turned her head so she could see his face, so that she could tell him no, and then the lights dimmed and the sighs and groans and the smack of flesh against flesh faded from her ears as Tom's cockhead pressed inside her ass. "Oh God!" she gasped, as the thin wall of flesh between her vagina and her anus was sandwiched, massaged, between the steadily thrusting shafts. Without the need for words, the two cocks eased into a smooth, alternating rhythm. Philip's prick was hard against her cervix, while Tom was barely within her flesh; then, the two shafts reversed, passing each other, until Philip's glans was merely grazing her labia and clitoris, and the full length of Tom's cock was deep inside her ass. Now it was the turn of Ross and Jack to kneel on either side of her. They massaged their shafts in symphony with the scene before them. Jack's cock already showed signs of returning to life, while Ross' erection had not dwindled since Louise had felt it pressing against her ass at the bar. How long ago was that? It was only a few minutes ago, but it felt more like hours. A lifetime ago. Dreamily, she reached out for the two cocks, stroked them gently, eyes closed, luxuriating in the pleasure of being filled by two men while she pleasured two more. Louise drew Ross and Jack towards her, slipping first one cock, then the other, inside her mouth. As she sucked one cock, she stroked the other. She loved how the thick foreskins rolled back, gradually revealing the burnished heads beneath; she adored the weight of their heavy balls against her palm when she cupped them. How quickly we learn to accept pleasure. And to give it. The two men groaned their approval at her ministerings. They each cupped one of Louise's breasts, rubbing their thumbs across her hard nipples. The cocks inside her were hastening their pace, both men moving relentlessly towards their climaxes. The fires of a second orgasm were rising inside her too. Her body felt soft, malleable. It seemed absurd, the way she had surrendered, allowing herself to be used by these men as a receptacle for their lust. Why had she done that? Because she was afraid? No. Because she knew that she was taking just as much pleasure from them? Perhaps even more. Tom cried out, a low sound of lust and satisfaction. His nails bit deep into Louise's buttocks, dragging across her soft, pliant flesh, igniting a thousand nerves beneath the creamy skin. His cock juddered, and Louise felt the first hot splash of his come deep inside her ass. She cried out. The first ever. It left her feeling denigrated and alive. Am I a woman now? Now that I understand everything that they're capable of? Everything that I'm capable of? Philip groaned loudly, his own orgasm seemingly not far behind Tom's. It was hard to read his face: was that a look of triumph or defeat? Louise flashed back on the poker game, the competitive way the two men had gone after each other's money. Had they still been competing, using her as a playing field? And if so, what had been the goal? To beat the other man to ejaculation, or to outlast him? Had Philip lost or won? Who cares? She wanted to tell Philip to pull out, not to come inside her sex. But the significance of the words kept fading in comparison to the sheer bliss of those two cocks, separated by the merest wall of flesh, rubbing against each other inside her body. In the end she said nothing. Common sense seemed fated to take second place to lust tonight. Philip's cock throbbed deeply as his seed spurted into her cunt. Tom's cock still twitched inside her ass, only oozing now. "Enjoy, Louise," Ross groaned, the head of his cock suddenly finding its way to her lips. "Enjoy!" As she watched, the fleshy shaft began to throb, and Louise pulled him inside her mouth in time to feel his warm come surge over her waiting tongue. And even as Ross came, Louise felt the underside of Jack's shaft start to pulsate against her palm, and she stroked it even more desperately, turning her face to receive his second gift to her. She pulled him closer, so that both cocks rested against her lips. A second deluge of sperm flooded her mouth, cascading over her chin, running down onto her heaving breasts. It was almost too much to endure. She screamed out again as her second orgasm ripped through her body, carrying her towards the edge of consciousness. Light and sound gradually returned to her. Louise felt weak, drained. Spent. Sweat was cooling all over her body now. She licked her lips absently, and tasted semen. She lifted a hand, ran it across the tops of her breasts: it felt like they had showered her in the stuff. Tom had already withdrawn his flaccid cock from her ass, while Ross and Jack had moved away from her to perch on the edge of the bed. Without speaking, Louise rolled off Philip's prone form, and walked slightly unevenly to the bar. Their hot eyes were on her nakedness again, but she no longer cared. She poured a large measure of Bacardi into a glass and added an equal measure of Coke. The drink was sharp, biting. She could feel it stripping her palate clean. For what? The dessert course? She looked down at herself. The come was drying in streaks across her breasts. She could see a dozen places where red bite marks marred the paleness of her skin. Two of the suspender straps had come unclipped from her twisted stockings. She stopped looking and took another long pull at her drink. She was glad there were no mirrors nearby. God knew what her hair and her face looked like. Like a slut. Sarah's words of caution flooded back to her. Too late, Louise thought bitterly. But there was another feeling, besides the bitterness and the shame and the regret, and she tried to ignore it, because of the danger of its implications. Because it was the feeling of satisfaction She looked around the room for her scattered clothes, gathered them up, always aware of the eyes that followed her around the room. No one had spoken since it had ended. Were they waiting for her to leave? Hoping she would stay? She clutched her uniform to her body and looked towards the exit. Leaving would be easy now. They wouldn't stop her. Why should they? They'd already had what they wanted. Perhaps they did want her to leave, so that she could take the guilt with her. Once she was gone, they could talk freely, laugh about their adventure. She glanced over at them. All four seemed touched by remorse; but that was not the only emotion betrayed by their faces. There was lust. And if there had been a mirror for her to look in, what would she see? The same mixture of guilt and yearning? Was that the true secret of sex? To be repulsed and attracted by it all at once? She had expected to feel angry, to feel enraged, but how was that possible now? She had surrendered to these strangers, not through fear, but through desire. The confusion was back, making her head throb. She felt just as she had in the doorway of Ross' bathroom, a lifetime ago: compelled to flee, desperate to stay. She could no longer be certain of what her intentions had been coming here tonight. She looked at her clothes. Hadn't she dressed to provoke, to entice? What is it that you want? She stood in the centre of the room, clutching her clothes for a long time. Then she turned to face the men. "Finances are hard on students these days." She looked pointedly at the thick piles of money on the card table. "So I'm sure that you'll be only too happy to contribute all of that to this student's education fund." The men glanced at each other. It was Ross that looked up at her first. "And what can we expect in return for our contributions?" He smiled. "Your silence?" "Yes." Louise walked slowly back towards the bathroom door, dropping her clothes as she went. She turned back at the doorway and smiled warmly. "And the opportunity to clean me up before I go home."
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