1 comments/ 34773 views/ 5 favorites Reluctance By: Drmaxc Reluctance by Maximilian Cummings It was not his fault; he had done nothing; he had been very good; very restrained; his resolution had held for something like two years. No, it was most definitely not his fault. He had immersed himself in cultural pursuits, his writing, choral music and early Italian Cinema. It had been a good and cerebral two years: very different from before and he had been pleased with himself, with his restraint and right action. No, there was simply no way that it could have been his fault. He had been sitting quietly on a train returning home from the City, reading intently, little knowing what was about to disturb his now quiet life. How could he know there had been a rather quirky change in fashion - it was not something he followed. He had had no time to prepare himself, talk himself out of temptation, steel himself against those other thoughts that had so dominated his life. In part his new approach to his life had been a reflection of his age. He was seventy, no spring chicken, a time when the fires of youth were long extinguished - or at least formed the last dying embers of what they had been. A time for a man no longer to be lead by his loins. It was also an attempt to be good, to resist the urge, the urge to enjoy women irrespective of their own desires. It was not that he forced himself upon women, not in the crude physical sense: no, his method was much more subtle and much more effective. He had long enjoyed the ability to control others simply by the exercise of his own will. He could impose his wishes on another and make it seem as if it were her own. A dangerous power but not one he had ever used to really evil ends but nonetheless he had been lead by his loins and had enjoyed women to the full. A year or more, perhaps two, of celibacy, of quiet and mature activities was about to end. It was not his fault. The door of the railway carriage slid open with a crash and a young woman entered. It was not her dark hair, her pretty face, the slight and interesting prominence of her upper lip over the lower, the pleasing shape of her body or the shortness of her denim skirt that arrested his casual glance but the thin black cotton socks that clasped her thighs above her knees leaving a section of creamy thigh exposed between sock and skirt. His eyes widened in surprise at this erotic vision. Why was she dressed in such an inflammatory way? Was it fancy dress? A dare? He was not to know that this was the latest fashion. An idea pushed on young girls by the fashion houses and eagerly taken up by the fashion conscious only too pleased to do something different, daring and sexy. His eyes followed the thighs as they sat down in a seat but, before he could calm himself and return to his book, the girl's friend joined her. Taller, with pale straw hair cascading down her back and a very pleasing valley of cleavage, she too was dressed in a short skirt and socks but these were both white - he could hardly believe it, white short skirt, expanse of thigh and over knee white socks. His desire, quietened for many months, returned, made the stronger by the months of abstinence, such that he almost reached out to stroke the white thigh above the sock as the girl's knees bent and she settled into the carriage seat next to her friend. The skirt rode a little further up her thighs as she sat. He had a sudden and desperate need to know the colour of her panties. Were they a matching white or the french blue his mind desired? He was annoyed, cross even, why had this thought come to him to disturb his reading? He looked at the girls in part with desire: in part, though a lesser part, in irritation. The blond girl crossed her legs and the skirt, already short, rose a little higher but not high enough for him to discern the colour of the panties. The blond girl caught him looking at her. Instinctively he looked away, struggling with himself not to change their day, set a course that would lead inexorably to his gaining knowledge not just of the colour of those panties but a very great deal more, an intimate knowledge possessed only by the girls themselves and perhaps their boyfriends/girlfriends. It was a desperate struggle. Another glance at the creamy thighs above socks and he lost. The girls themselves were not conscious of the change - they chatted away about their shopping, their day out, the film they had seen, the boys who had tried to chat them up - but there was a subtle alteration, a greater feeling of well-being, of being happy, of all being right with their world. Initially the grey haired rather worn looking old man had not impinged on their consciousness beyond, in the blond girl's case, seeing and then forgetting in the flood of talk his visual inspection of her legs. Gradually however they became more aware of him, not because they did not like him being there - perhaps looking at them, overhearing their conversation - but in a pleasant way like the presence of an old friend. "You have had a good day in town?" His voice didn't startle or annoy them: on the contrary their heads turned together towards him with a ready smile as they answered. The ticket collector noted the three talking and assumed the girls were with their grandfather until he saw from their tickets that they were travelling further down the line. Judicious questioning revealed much about the girls, their art college course, their boyfriends, where they lived at the college - in a shared flat - their likes and dislikes, their hopes and fears. Much more than they would ever have thought of revealing to a stranger had they been thinking straight and seeing things clearly - but they were hardly doing that. They had not drunk anything, smoked anything but the feeling was not dissimilar. They were on a bit of a high, talking too quickly and too easily, bathing in a feeling of vitality and excitement. The train slowed. "My stop I think, goodnight ladies!" He got up to go. "Oh, ours too," the girls said in unison. He waited for them to go before him, the automatic door opening as they went into the vestibule. His sharp eyes watched them, the short skirts, the creamy thighs, the long socks rising above the knees, the hands coming back to smooth down the skirts. His eyebrows rose as he gently bit his bottom lip. He had broken his word to himself after almost two years but what could he do against the trick of fate that had thrust these girls against him when he was unprepared, vulnerable to such a sneak attack. He was falling fast and there was little he could do. He resolved to try - but already it might be too late. He stepped onto the wet platform, the yellow light of the carriage reflecting up at him made it seem quite bright as he stood for a moment. He closed the door and turned to watch the two girls gaily walking to the exit, their buttocks moving the thin fabric of their skirts left, right, left, right and below them the very visible patches of creamy thigh above those long socks. What colour were those panties? The platform was not so jolly when the train had pulled away, the night taking over, pushing its black shadows where the inadequate lights on the platform failed to penetrate. He followed the departing train as he moved towards the unmanned exit. Even before he reached it the train was just a point of red light in the distance. He pulled his coat a bit tighter around him, it was not that cold but there was a light rain falling and he felt the cold more these days, and headed up the damp street into the town. Ahead of him he could see, in the orange glow of the neon street lamps, the two girls perhaps not walking quite so jauntily now. He smiled thinly, they were moving out of the range of his influence and the dawning of a slight worry was probably coming to them, a concern that perhaps they had got off at the wrong station as the town did not seem quite right, only the beginning of a disquiet - the effect of his mind did not fade that quickly. It was the barking of a dog that spooked them. They had been walking and talking, though, as he had noted, not quite as animatedly as before, when the dog barked through the fence right by them. They jumped and clasped hands and kept them clasped. He liked the image, two young girls in their little outfits holding hands. His fertile imagination was quick to imagine more. The touch of feminine hands on feminine thighs, creamy thighs showing above socks that reached beyond the knee. Hands that slipped upwards under short skirts to panties of the purest french blue; perhaps of the purest french blue. The girls had stopped under a street lamp outside a terrace of Victorian houses and were looking around in a confused way. The orange glow showed the light rain as thin slanting wires pointing down towards them from above. "Where are we?" His feet were in leather-soled shoes and the tip tap of his footsteps sounded clear on the wet pavement. The girls looked in his direction. Their relief at seeing him was palpable, they recognised him and immediately felt safe, relieved and no longer anxious. His aurora surrounded them taking away their cares. "We, we seem to be a bit lost," said the darker girl. "I'm not sure we got off at the right station," said the other, "it seems right but not, if that makes sense?" "We are not sure which way to go." "I think you will find you should go up this side street here, right to the top." The girls nodded and began to walk, and once more their careless chatter started. He walked a little way behind where he could see their legs. At the top of the road they paused looking about them again outside a small house. An end of terrace house with a small front garden behind a painted fence. Yellowing hollyhocks lent over it, damp and beginning to rot in the late Autumnal rain. He walked past them, pulling a key from a pocket to unlock his front door. "You can come in, if you like." And they did, so it was not really his fault. They chose to come into his house, he only asked them, he didn't tell them to, he didn't pull them in. Yes, maybe he had dulled their sense of danger, made them amenable to the idea but that had also not really been his doing. He had been good for at least two years and it was their socks that had inflamed him, brought back his desire, his fascination with the opposite sex, his interest in female anatomy, his desire. No, it was the fault of the fashion houses, the retailers who had picked up on the idea and the girls who had purchased the clothing and worn it that night. He was not to blame. They were in the narrow hall. "If you would step into the parlour," he invited as he opened its door. "Oh, like the spider said to the fly," quipped the fair girl. "Yes." He paused and smiled showing his small white and well-preserved teeth, "that is the rhyme." The girls went into the room. They stood together, still holding hands, looking at the small coal fire. It had been carefully banked whilst he was out, and now only gave off a desultory heat and glow, but which, with the aid of coal scuttle and poker, he soon had going again, crackling away to give a warm orange glow to the room. It was evident such a fire was a new experience to them used, as they were, to the instant heat of the gas central heating system. Not for them a childhood of leaving the toast hot warmth of the parlour and settling in Winceyette nightdresses into an ice cold bed albeit with the comforting and friendly warmth of a hot water bottle. They were of softer stuff but immediately liked the comforting warmth and light from the fire. It was a homely sight, it made them relax the more and feel safe. They sank into the soft upholstery of the old sofa, looked down at their clasped hands and giggled. He had left them for the kitchen where, switching on the light and divesting himself of his overcoat, he was opening a bottle of wine. The dampness of the air had made him think of a glass and he thought it best mulled. The wine splashed redly into the saucepan as he added cinnamon, orange peel, honey and cloves and began to heat the pan. The delicious scent of the warming wine soon permeated the kitchen, sneaking out along the passage and into the parlour. The girls' nostrils twitched as he opened the door and came in carrying three glasses, steam from the mulled wine clouding the glasses and gently rising from each perfuming the air. It was dark in the glasses, a dark red Merlot, the colour of freshly oxygenated blood. "Unpleasant weather," he remarked. "Oh, the wine glass, it's hot." "I thought mulled wine suited the wet weather. It will warm you." The girls drank tentatively. "The scent?" "Cinnamon." The hot liquid slipping down their throats was welcome to the girls, they felt very warm and comfortable and not at all worried about where they were. He watched them from his armchair. They drank again. It was indeed warming... and heady. Outside the rain got a little stronger. It could be heard against the windowpanes. The dark girl took a sip of wine. It left a drop on her slightly prominent upper lip. It rested there like a small red pearl. The man had a strong wish to be able to remove it - with his lips or tongue. His eyes looked hungrily at the girl's soft lips - so inviting. But it was not he but her friend who lent across and lightly brushed her own lips across the dark girl's. The dark girl looked in surprise at her friend. "You'd a drop of wine on your lip," she explained, though even to her it seemed an odd thing to have done. She sipped the wine leaving her own lips wet with the red wine. It was now the dark girl's turn to bend to her friend but she planted a more obvious kiss. They both looked at each other in surprise. The dark girl smiled and stuck her tongue out at her friend. "You're lips had wine on them too." The fair girl laughed, "Your tongue's gone all black," and stuck her own tongue out. "So's yours." The man smiled happily at the two girls sticking their tongues out at each other. He knew what he wanted next. The girls grinned at each other, leaving their tongues just sticking out between their lips. The girls' faces got closer and closer until the fair-haired girl stuck her tongue right out and touched the tip of her friend's tongue. The two pink tips stayed touching and lightly tickling the other. The two girls drew back looking a little startled, their eyes both glanced downwards, away from each other and both girls sipped their wine again. They looked back and their faces moved closer again and then they kissed, soft lips to soft lips, mouths opening and red wine stained tongues caressing. The old man smiled. This was what he liked to see. It was all in his mind and it happened - they could not resist. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour startling the girls from their oral embrace. They sat back looking a little shyly at each other. "I didn't think," said the dark haired girl, "I'd do that." She sipped her wine and kissed her friend again. "You taste of wine." "Be careful," he said it as a warning. He knew where this would lead. He knew where he wanted it to go. He tried to warn them. "Do be careful." "Oh, of what?" Said the fair-haired girl looking alarmed. He hadn't meant to frighten her: just warn her. He was, after all, a good man trapped by events - by being surprised, taken unawares on the train. It was not his fault. But he couldn't bring himself to say what he should. He said, "Of the wine. Do be careful not to spill it on your blouses or skirts." He looked down at the denim and white skirts as he said it, to the socks rising above the knee and the insistent question came back to him, what colour were the panties? He had to know. "I'll be careful," said the fair-haired girl. She looked at her friend, "I always take precautions!" They giggled together and looked at the man. They had not had much of the wine but did feel a little drunk and the joke seemed funny. The fair haired girl lifted her glass and a drop of the red wine fell from it right onto her blouse. "Look what you've done!" said the dark haired girl. "Cold water," said the man, "best for removing red wine." It was warm, hot even, in the room now - the fire was blazing. "I'll take it if you like?" He shouldn't have offered. He knew what he wanted to see. "Come on, off with it," said the dark haired girl. He could but watch with anticipation as one by one the girl undid the buttons of her blouse. Her bra was white and cut low, her skin pale, her breasts pushing at the material, mounding up, round and inviting. She held the blouse out to him and he stood and took it to the kitchen to rinse it in cold water from the tap. The blouse was warm to his touch: the water was cold. He refilled their glasses, leaning towards them as he did so he could see the cleavage within the exposed bra was deep - it was difficult for him not to look - it was not his fault. "Dip her nipple and suck. Yes, suck the warm wine from her nipple." The words tumbled out before he could stop them. The girls looked surprised. He had not meant to say such a thing, it was a mistake, a verbalising of a thought, but his power, his aurora retrieved the situation. "Yes," said the fair-haired girl, "yes, I'd like that." She reached behind her and undid the clasp. The bra fell forward and it was dropped to the floor. He breathed slowly out. The revealed breasts were full and topped with the palest pink little nipples, which seemed to point upwards. He longed to touch but that would have been wrong. The fair-haired girl was lightly biting the side of her bottom lip as her friend brought up a glass of the hot mulled wine to a naked breast. The fair-haired girl lent forward and dipped a nipple. She sucked in her breath - the wine was indeed hot. Revealed again, the nipple and its areola shone in the firelight, wet and faintly pinker. Her friend put down her glass, extended her tongue and licked at the very end of the breast where a drop of the wine hung. The fair-haired girl shivered. The dark haired girl drew the wine dipped nipple into her mouth and suckled. The fair-haired girl's eyes closed and she lent back in the sofa. He could see, his eyesight was good, that the other nipple was thickening all by itself and it was not forgotten - it too was dipped, warmed and tasted and then the whole process was repeated. The application of wine was liberal; it ran down the breasts and was licked. "They are nice," said the dark haired girl, "so big. I've often admired them, wanted to have mine like them - but I never thought I'd touch them." She held them in her hands. "No, they are not like mine." She glanced downwards at her own chest. There was a swelling, a definite womanliness but not the thrust or cleavage of her friend. "Mine are not much good." "Surely not. May we see?" said the man - with concern. He did not like her to feel ashamed or disappointed in her body. He was a man of feeling. Shyly she undid her blouse, her bra betraying a degree of padding. Her friend undid the clasp and reluctantly the dark haired girl let it fall. "They won't go in the glass." Both the man and the girl were surprised, not at the breasts, which were small, but at the size of the areolae. Deep brown in colour, little nipples at the centre but great areolae spreading out to cover much of the breasts, perhaps as much as two inches in diameter. They looked somewhat out of place on such small breasts as if they had been painted on but did not belong. They were certainly rather interesting, fun, different. "Oh, I do like those," said the fair-haired girl, "dramatic!" It was not easy to dip much in the glass, the nipple just touched the surface of the wine so, instead, the fair haired girl dipped her fingers in the wine and rubbed them across a nipple coating it before licking her tongue right round the areola and sucking it into her mouth. When she released it its shape had changed to being a brown cone pointing out from a small breast. Reluctance He was pleased with the contrast between the girls. It was exciting; he felt a stirring, a developing hardness. This was not a good sign. He watched the two girls fondling, comparing, admiring and sucking wine from each other's breasts. Should he call them over now so he could run his hands over those smooth mounds: or should he wait, wait until panties were removed - as they would be. He could see that would happen as inevitable as night follows day and there was little to do to stop such a thing. It was not his fault. It was pleasant watching them, bare breasted and naked from the waist up, little skirts covering their hips and those surprisingly long socks, rising above their knees. Now would it be skirts or would it be panties removed next? There was no need for the socks to go - none at all. He pondered as he watched. Removing panties first left anticipation, occasional glimpses might be had, assuming that is the girls cavorted together fingering each other, but it would be good to see them in just panties - whatever colour they were, and he was certainly very interested in that. There again, they could hardly pour wine over each other's pudenda - and that was in his mind as well - if they were wearing their skirts as the wine would stain and spoil the material. On balance, skirts would have to go first - a pity, but these decisions were not easy and so often a compromise between objectives was required. "Do you mind me asking, but it's been bothering me because I do not know, what colour, what colour, that is, are your panties?" The girls looked at each other and burst into a fit of giggles - what a question to ask! "Guess," said the fair-haired girl. An invitation. "Blue," he said wistfully, "french blue." "Wrong!" She laughed, "quite wrong." The dark haired girl though nodded slowly and looked down. "Yes," she said. "Come here," he said and they were half surprised to find they obeyed straightway. They stood before him. "Might I?" He said, "might I just pull them up a little to check?" He hooked his fingers through the front of first one waistband then the other of the skirts. His fingers slipped in down between skirt and smooth tummy flesh. He found the top of the dark haired girl's panties and pulled with just his finger tips and a glimpse of blue, french blue cotton appeared above the white skirt. It was an exquisite sight for him and he just looked not moving for quite a few moments. But he could not just leave her friend standing waiting his check. His finger tips quested beneath the denim skirt, he pushed then a little lower, a little lower. He could feel no material but then there was the gossamer touch of fine hairs on his fingertips - his fingers were in her secret fur! He looked up puzzled. "I'm not wearing any!" "You're not!" Her friend was really surprised. "Really?" "I took them off. I was hot." "But you could have been seen." "So?" He overcame a desire to remove his hand and lift it up under her skirt and verify her statement by slipping his fingers between those smooth creamy thighs until he touched just soft moist flesh. He knew in the end it would come to that. He was weak, he knew, and the temptation was just getting stronger. He went to heat the wine again. "It tickles if she drinks from your tummy button," he said as he came back into the room. He said it matter of factly, just a statement, not a request. He was not trying to lead them. They were interested. The idea caught their imagination. "But I wouldn't want to spill it on your skirt. Quick before the wine cools." He watched as the white skirt fell to the floor and the girl with the pale straw hair stood, naked but for those long white socks. Beautiful large breasts, soft flat tummy and pale straw curls between her thighs. She looked a little coy with one thigh pushed forward of the other. "Lie down, lie down," said her friend. The wine was poured from a glass, filling her navel, a dark red pool in an expanse of white. "Ooh, it's hot!" she said. Her friend lapped, her wine stained tongue pushed in, ensuring none remained. "It does tickle!" The wine was poured again but with less care, the pool overfilled spilling out and into the pale straw curls, a trickle slipped down between thigh and pubis and disappeared between her legs. The pool was emptied again but the damp hair and rivulet remained. The dark haired girl looked uncertain. "Not to be wasted," said the man quietly. Her tongue ventured from the navel, it followed the trail into the hair and down the edge of the thigh. She paused and looked up. "I shouldn't, I can't." "You have gone so far, why stop now? Surely you cannot stop." His desire was getting the better of him. He rose and came over to her picking up the glass. "But I'm not a lesbian!" "No, no of course not. Nothing of the sort but the wine needs drinking." Slowly he poured, the red wine leaving the glass and splashing down just at the junction of the fair-headed girl's thighs. The surprise caused them to open enough for the wine to splash onto the lips of the sex below, wetting them. The scent of the cinnamon and hot wine was strong in her friend's nostrils. "Lap, you should lap," he encouraged rather than ordered. He saw himself more as a coach getting the best from people rather than a master. He watched as slowly, eyes fastened on her friend's sex, she lowered her head, her tongue tentatively extended until its tip just touched the soft pink flesh. She began to lap and the legs, clad in long white socks, widened and wriggled. Her tongue sought the wine, pushing soft folds aside in search of the liquid, even searching right into her friend to see if some had trickled there. It was certainly wet there to the touch and her tongue and lips licked and sucked greedily. "You will want to drink from your friend too?" He was asking the fair head girl, the girl lying across the settee, the girl with her eyes closed absorbed in the sensations from her friend's busy tongue and lips. She would not have imagined herself allowing such a thing let alone enjoying it the day before but now things were different. Her thoughts were muddled and foggy but, yes, she must repay her friend her kindness and, yes, she did want to drink. "It is your turn," he said taking hold of the dark girl's shoulders and lifting her up from between her friend's thighs. She looked a trifle dazed and her face was wet. It was time for the other skirt to be removed; the brass zip was lowered, the button undone. The denim skirt dropped to the floor and panties of the purest french blue were revealed moulding her buttocks, clinging to her hips and lightly mounded by the push of her secret curls. "What pretty panties," he said. He was, after all, a connoisseur. She came to herself and rotated to show him their entirety, "you like them?" "Yes, indeed, might I...?" He was unsure quite how to phrase this, "might I help you with them." He wanted to roll them down, slip them across her skin, gradually revealing what they contained, slowly pulling them past the smooth skin of her thighs and then sliding cotton to cotton the flimsy garment down her legs. It was not that he wished to push her or order her into their removal, and the exposure of her sex, but he wished to help, to offer his assistance to her, aid in their removal. They would have to come off, be removed, if her friend was to taste her - and the wine. "They need to come down if your friend is to..." "Of course." She understood. His delight in helping was genuine. His fingers took hold of the material, the french blue cotton just at the waistband and gave a little tug, not enough to pull them far but enough to reveal the cleft of her buttocks and a sprinkling of dark hairs in a fan shape at the top of the mound of her pubis. He paused admiring, noting where the elastic had dug a little in and left a mark. He had been waiting for this moment - though he knew he should not be doing this. One thing would lead to another and... He began to roll the material rather than simply tug it to her knees. The rolling was more pleasing, a gradual revelation of form, of soft round buttocks, of short dark hairs fanning out from the valley of her pubis, the valley itself, the separation of the material from the soft pinkness between her legs and the steady exposure of her sex. The panties rolled on down her soft thighs, a strip of blue cotton - french blue cotton - until they were lying discarded on the floor. Her friend was still lying on the settee but she rose to help her friend take her place. He had not expected it but it was the fair-haired girl who parted the thighs, opening them so her sex was exposed to his view and ready to receive some of the contents of the glass. He poured carefully. The still warm wine splashed onto the dark smooth hairs and ran down between the legs. The fair-haired girl did not hesitate and immediately bent to lap with enthusiasm. Her friend bucked and wriggled at the sensual onslaught upon her sex. The rough tongue seeking wine, its tip burrowing around her clitoris, running along the folds and slipping inside her vagina. It was inevitable that when she surfaced they would kiss. Mouths that had kissed and sucked other lips were no longer coy about the mutual caress of tongues. They settled together on the settee. He watched happy in their enjoyment, happy that he had promoted this without really seeking the satisfaction of his own desires. He felt almost virtuous for a moment. Hands now sought more than just breasts, they went where tongues had recently ventured and found warmth and wetness. They were used to arousing, used to pleasuring themselves in the secrecy of their own beds and they knew what each other needed: so very different from being in bed with a boy. He was certainly enjoying seeing the girls cross legged and facing each other, each with one hand around the others shoulder for support as they sat on each other's hands, hands whose fingers were inserted into the other and upon which each was bouncing causing the fingers to move up and down in their respective vaginas. Their bobbing, bouncing movements caused the springs of the old sofa to creek but it was not unused to rigorous movement and could have told many a merry tale of the past. Their eyes held the other watching the small changes in facial expression, the widening of the eye, the biting of the lip, the flicker of a muscle denoting particular enjoyment. They were concentrating on achieving the other's pleasure. Despite their strenuous efforts they seemed unable, either of them, to reach orgasm. Their bodies shone with the sweat of their exertion, the scent of their sex, their very wet sex, strong on the air but they could not bring themselves over the top. There was, of course, a reason and he was the reason. There was to be no lesbian orgasm, no climax resulting from the application of female fingers or tongues: he was a good man he did not want to change their nature, change their sexuality. No, that would not have been fair, would not have been kind, would not have been the action of a gentleman. Therefore he made sure they needed something more substantial to achieve their release, something in keeping with their own sexuality, something he could offer - to help. The girls groaned and fell apart, lying back on the sofa, their legs wantonly apart and wet sex exposed. "I can't come, I've got to come," complained the dark haired girl. She pulled the hard brown cones of her own breasts; her hands went to her sex and stroked her standing clitoris. But it was no good, neither on her own or with her friend was she reaching what she so desired. Her friend, fingers inside herself, was faring no better. "I need a man, I need a penis, a cock, a prick, so badly." He nodded. That was true. The girls looked across to him. He was old, he was greying but he was a man and would have a penis. They looked at each other. Really they needed one each but they would have to share. Would one be enough for two? How could they ask him? How should they ask him? "Would you," said the dark haired girl looking downwards, "would you fuck us..." "Fuck us both," finished her friend. It was not well put but he began to undress. He could not really refuse such a request. It was good he had resisted forcing himself upon them. So much better to be invited, to be able to help. It was not his body the girls had eyes for. They did not notice the aged skin, the less than flat stomach, the grey hair. It was the standing penis their eyes sought and standing it was. As one, tongues wet lips as they took in the smooth round head, the veined and rugged shaft, the balls hanging loose, the structure ready for its purpose. But how should they begin? He had been present the whole time but as an onlooker, hardly part of their sexual activity. How should they bring him in? Would it be right to dip his penis in the wine, marinade it carefully before sucking the wine from it, passing it between them, first to one mouth then the other sucking and savouring? They looked at each other. How was a tumescent cock to be pushed into a wine glass? Flaccid it could be dipped, the wine glass brought up and under before it was lifted, dripping with wine, to be savoured: but this could not be done with a hard cock. They stood naked, naked that is but for the long socks - a white pair and a black pair reaching up above their knees and clasped to creamy thighs, waiting for him to come to them. Naked now, he came towards them, penis bobbing, hands reaching out to cup and fondle breasts. He had restrained himself until then but now he wanted to touch, feel and squeeze. The excitement for him was intense after the waiting, the restraint he had shown. For a moment they were unsure. The feel of a man's hands on their breasts was good, it gave them a tingle, a promise of the orgasm, they had been lacking. The wine forgotten they sank to their knees ready to suck, to try and secure a sip of a different liquid, a very different liquid excepting perhaps the salty tang of a Manzanilla. It was the dark haired girl who took the first suck. Her friend watched patiently as lips slipped over the shiny head absorbing the penis into her mouth, the cheeks hollowed for a moment and then the lips began to slide back and forth, each time taking the shaft a little deeper. It glistened where it was moistened providing lubrication for the sliding lips. The cheeks hollowed again. The fair-haired girl could only imagine what her friend was doing within her mouth: but the man could feel it. He revelled in the sensation, the joy of having the young girl at his penis, the sight of her kneeling there with his shaft between her lips and the anticipation of her friend waiting to repeat the action - soon also to be kneeling before him. His regret was gone: he was of the moment. The feeling would return, the guilt, the remorse, the regret would be back the next day and the days after, but for now he was absorbed in pleasure. The dark girl's tongue gently lapped beneath the hidden head, at the most sensitive point - the fraenum. Younger men would have spurted at that, releasing their flood of semen into the girl's mouth, perhaps causing her to choke or be momentarily distressed but he had long learnt control and it would be many, many minutes before he would come. The girls could enjoy his penis; there was no need for them to hurry. He would not wish for them to be disappointed. The tongue continued to lap. The dark haired girl awoke, her head thick from the wine, she blinked trying to pull herself together. Where was she? She knew she had been fucking, could feel that - but with whom? She opened her eyes and saw the man, an old man. Her involuntary movement back across the bed resulted in her feeling warm flesh the other side of her; she turned and saw her naked friend. Her disbelief was total. She was in bed with an old man and her friend. Her alarm woke the man. He blinked as if achieving focus, "Well I never, pretty young girls in my bed. Now, how did that happen?" Her confusion did not last long. His power, after all, was strong and it would not do, simply would not do, to leave either of them with unhappy memories, or very much memory in fact, of what had happened the night before or, indeed, was still to happen that morning. Inevitably he was beginning to feel a certain guilt but to ignore, simply not to take the opportunity offered by two young girls in his bed before breakfast seemed ungrateful - even wrong. He sat in his armchair later that morning feeling dejected, engaged in personal recrimination. He had seen them to the train, made sure they caught it; watched as the long socks, short skirts and bare thighs had climbed the step; thought of panties of the purest french blue and what had happened the night before and that very morning. He would punish himself for his lapse - there would be no wine for a fortnight and no brandy for a month. He must not use his power again; it was not right; he must guard against unexpected temptation. After all he was a good man at heart. He must re-immerse himself in his cultural and literary pursuits: but what lovely fresh girls - so sweet, so fun, so sexual. And, his brow knitted in worry, what was he to do in a fortnight's time when they would come knocking at his door? He should not have left that idea in their heads: but they had such a good time, had seemed to so like the mulled wine that it had seemed impolite not to invite them to return, to come back, for another drink... or two. Perhaps they would not come, perhaps they would stay on the train and not get off at his station - but he doubted it. He knew of old his power was strong. He was too kind, too generous, too inviting. That was his trouble. He should simply not have invited them. If they came he would have to resist their temptation but could he do that and, and... what if they brought their boyfriends? Could he resist the ensuing display of sex, the sight of proud penises pushing wetly into the girls, all of them trying so hard to come but unable - unable until he showed them how? He shook his head, it really was not his fault. Reluctance Alex Reinwright pushed his reluctant submissive through the door of their house, the force propelling her onto her knees. Megan had pushed him beyond the limits of overlooking her behavior. She'd gone beyond cheeky, into royal pain in the ass, and straight on to a god damned bitch. The last straw had been at his office party when she'd finished off her third glass of wine, and when he'd told her she'd had enough, she'd said loudly, "Fuck You, you asshole!" Grabbing hold of her arm, he'd dragged her out of the room and to the car, pushing her in and slamming the door. The whore hadn't had the good sense to keep her mouth shut after he got in, and kept mouthing off, calling him a "fucking faggot," and repeating "Shut up, you fucker." Finally, he'd had enough and keeping his voice low and even, pulled over and grabbed her hair, pulling her face to his. "You will shut your fucking mouth now, or you'll feel some goddamned pain. Don't test me, you little cunt. You will NOT like the results." She glared at him, but another jerk of her hair got the point across. She sat slumped in the passenger seat, arms crossed and biting her lower lip, shooting dirty looks at her Master when she thought he wasn't looking. Under her breath, she muttered words that sounded suspiciously like "fucking asshole," and "cocksmoking bitch." Pulling up to his spacious home in the Palisades, overlooking the San Francisco Bay, he parked and stepped out of his car. Jerking her door open, he simply growled, "Out." She began to open her mouth to pop off with some witty, sarcastic comment, but thought better of it when she looked at his face. This was no game. Gripping hard around her upper arm he'd steered her to the door, pushing her through, and forcing her down on her knees. She glanced up in fear, knowing that she was in for it. Grabbing her hair and pulling hard, he walked toward the "chamber" door, forcing her to scramble quickly on her knees, crying and whimpering. He kicked the door open, dragging her through into his room of deviant tortures. Pulling her to her feet, he barked, "Undress!" Without ceremony, without any games or role-play, she quickly reached behind her and unzipped her dress, sliding it off and throwing it in the corner, following quickly with her shoes, bra, nylons, and panties. Instinctively, she crossed her arms over herself, trying to cover up. Even now, after months with him, she was shy showing her body to him. Grabbing a heavy leather collar with multiple rings around it, he tightened it around her throat, forcing her to keep her head up. He then placed metal hinged-cuffs on her wrists, tightening them more than necessary, and attaching a chain from her collar to the cuffs, he pulled tighter behind her, eliciting a whimper of pain from her lips. "I'm going to hear much louder screams from you tonight you cunt," he said, slapping her across the face, causing tears to well up in her eyes and spill down her cheeks. He slapped her again for good measure and stepped over to his toy box to look for his most evil implements. The bitch was going to learn once and for all not to talk back and to respect him. Turning back to her, he watched her eyes widen in fear as she saw him approach with a handful of alligator clips. Ordering her to stand still, he snapped one onto each nipple, watching the harsh teeth bite into her flesh. Laughing, he applied three to each side of her labia and one to her clit, listening to her shriek quietly, trying to show him that she could take anything he dished out. He watched her, seeing her adjust to the pain and ran his fingers between her legs, feeling her wetness begin to flow. Even through his anger, he enjoyed watching her fight the line between pain and pleasure. He pulled on the clip on her clit, making her gasp and cry out. Reaching back into his chest of toys, Alex pulled out a leather whip. He set it down at his slave's feet, and ran a rope through a loop in the back of the collar, then up through an eyebolt in the ceiling, securing her into one spot. He walked behind her and cracked the whip, neatly laying it across her lower back, raising a welt and earning a loud scream from her lips. He repeated the motion, laying mark across the first, waiting for her scream. The reaction was instantaneous. Smiling to himself, he laid into her, leaving marks across her ass, thighs, and lower back, even whipping her cunt every now and then. Her screams were continuous, with a mixture of moans. He whipped her till she was red all over and his arm grew tired. Walking around, he removed the alligator clips from her nipples, eliciting a scream. "Thank You, Sir," his slut whispered. "You don't think I'm done with you yet, do you slut?" He reached between her legs and quickly removed the clip on her clit, pushing her even closer to the limits of her pain threshold. Reaching back into his box of tricks, he pulled out the inflatable dildo. Running it over her pussy, her juices flowed across the head, soaking it, so he could slip it right inside her. He inflated it till he heard her groan, then pumped it twice more, making her squeal in pain. "Keep that inside you, slut," he said calmly as he reached for a set of weights. He hooked them, one at a time over the clips on her cunt, waiting a moment between each addition to hear her whimper. He stepped back and watched her flirt between tears and orgasm. "Don't cum, you dirty whore." He laughed at her as she bit her lip, trying to hold back. He grabbed a cat-o-nine tails and let the leather straps lick at her breasts, causing even more screams that mixed pain and pleasure. He laid marks over her chest, striking her nipples, still sore from the alligator clips, and listened to her scream without any conscious thought. He heard her beg softly, begging for release, both from the orgasm and from her bonds. "Stop begging. You won't be released until I'm satisfied you're sorry." She watched him walk out of the room and stood waiting, wondering what his twisted mind would bring back. She didn't have to wait long. He walked back in carrying a tray of stainless steel tools, two of which gleamed in the light. They looked suspiciously like... "I think your nipples could use some decoration," he said, lifting the 13 gauge piercing needles from the tray. "I suggest you not move, unless you wish to have deformed and damaged nipples, slut." He pulled off the clips on her nipples and shoved the first needle through her right nipple. She screamed in excruciating pain, watching as he replaced the needle with a small gold hoop. Holding her breath, she watched as he picked up the other needle and unceremoniously pushed it through her nipple, making her scream even louder than the first time. Again, he replaced the needle with a gold hoop. Leaning over he kissed her nipples, licking the small amount of blood up. "That wasn't so horrible was it, slut." Grinning, he grabbed the left hoop between his teeth and pulled hard making her start to cry in pain. He laughed and undid her bonds and clipped a short leash to her collar and pushed her to knees, then put his foot on her back, pushing her down onto all fours. Yanking hard on the lead he strode quickly out of the room, making Meg crawl quickly after him, struggling to keep the inflated dildo inside her, lest she suffer the punishment of dropping it. Making her climb the stairs on her hands and knees, he half-dragged her to their bedroom. He tied her lead to the foot of the bed. He pushed her chest to the floor and left her there as he undressed. Sliding into the bed, he ordered the slut on the floor not to cum or try to remove the dildo from her whorish cunt. He closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep to the sound of her whimpers of pain. Sometime in the middle of the night, he awoke, aroused as hell, and sat up. He reached down and grabbed his slut, bending down to untie her leash, pulling her up on the bed. He pulled out the huge cock in her cunt, making her moan, then shoved himself inside her. He felt her tighten around him, reminding him how much he loved fucking her. He slammed himself inside her, listening to her moan. He wrapped his hands in her hair and pulled her head back, and growled, "Don't you dare cum, you fucking whore." With that, he shoved himself deep inside her and dug his nails into her back, groaning as he exploded deep inside her. Pulling out, he slid the dildo back inside her and pulled her to him. She snuggled close to her Master, sorry for embarrassing him. She wished he'd let her cum, but she knew she was in for a long week of denial for her disobedience. Even though she was craving an orgasm, she felt a warmth that he loved and cared for her enough to take the time to punish her. Yawning, she fell asleep, knowing she was forgiven, though it was not forgotten. =========== If sending feedback, please mention the name of the story. Reluctance His eyes followed her as she hesitantly made her way to the diner counter to order her coffee. When she had first walked in, he had caught her reflection in the napkin holder as he set down his coffee cup. His eyes traced over her body. The fabric of her thin, cotton summer dress was stretched to capacity over her full breasts. Her legs, which were not yet tanned from the summer sun, were shapely and he couldn't help but notice the knee high 'fuck me' boots that seemed seductively out of place with the rest of her outfit. She leaned on the counter as she waited for the waitress, giving him an excellent view of her gorgeous cleavage. Perhaps noticing his stares, perhaps not, she looked in his direction and gave him a sweet, unassuming smile. "You're not as innocent as you seem, are you?" he thought, smiling back at her with what he was sure was a devilish grin. Finishing her coffee, she tipped generously and he watched her shapely ass as she made her way back to the door. Opening it, she hesitated for a moment, glancing back over her shoulder at him. He felt himself getting hard as her eyes found and held his for a moment. As she slid through the door, he quickly pulled out his wallet and, throwing a five dollar bill on the counter, he followed her from the diner. Although the parking lot was deserted, she didn't seem to hear him as he came up behind her. In fact, she didn't even notice him until his fingers were buried in her hair, his mouth was against her ear and his hardness was pressing into her hip, making her gasp. "You be good for me now," he growled into her ear, his free hand sliding around her body to cup one of her large, trembling breasts. Her neck tasted faintly of sunscreen and something sweet. A tiny sound escaped her lips as his tongue touched the back of her neck and despite the summer heat, goosebumps covered her body. He allowed his hand to stray inside the top of her dress and, feeling no bra, easily found a hardened nipple with his fingers. His caresses were not gentle, but they still caused her knees to almost buckle with pleasure. Turning her roughly to face him, he pressed her body against the side of the building and pressed himself against her. He pulled sharply at the top of her dress and she felt one of the straps tear. For a moment, she was angry with herself. As a self-proclaimed feminist, she was sure that she should be screaming, fighting him, getting away from him. But as she felt his rough, stubbled chin on her breast, his tongue and his teeth on her aching nipple, she knew that she did not want him to stop. Inadvertently, she let a small groan escape her lips. He looked at her then with such fierceness, such lust, that she trembled against him. With an animalistic growl, he tore at his belt, removing it with such force that it slapped against her thigh, leaving a red mark that she would later press with her fingers to relive the delicious pain. Pushing her to her knees, he thrust his engorged cock into her mouth. Her eyes widened as he stretched her mouth and she forced herself to swallow past her gag reflex. "Suck it," he ordered, wrapping her hair around his fist and using it to guide her head up and down his cock. Even though he was in control, he felt her moving her tongue against the head of his cock whenever he almost slipped from between her lips. She was definitely skilled at pleasuring a man and he felt himself all too quickly getting ready to cum. Pulling her to her feet, he pressed her back against the wall. Her eyes widened as, reaching under the skirt of her dress, he felt that she was wearing no panties. "I knew you weren't such a good girl," he said into her ear as he thrust two fingers deep inside her. The suddenness of his action coupled with the accuracy with which he found her g-spot almost made her cry out, but she desperately wanted him inside her and was afraid that if she screamed they would be discovered and stopped. "Please" she begged, in a tiny voice. "Please" "Please what?" he said, his fingers still driving her to the brink of ecstasy. "Say it. Say you want it." "Please fuck me!" she moaned. Pinning her arms over her head, he slammed into her, burying himself completely inside her. This time she couldn't help it. She cried out as he filled her until he stifled her moans with his hand. He moaned as he thrust into her. "You're so tight" he murmured. "So fucking tight". There was no gentleness as he drove himself harder and faster into her. His fingers dug into her hips as his sweat dripped onto her chest and she felt his body stiffen against her. He growled primitively into her ear as he came inside her. She allowed herself to cum with him, her body quivering uncontrollably. They stood there until their breathing had returned to normal and until she could stand without holding onto him. She opened her eyes, which had been shut since the waves of her orgasm had started, but didn't look at him. She tied off the torn strap from her dress and, sliding past him, made her way to her car. As she drove home, her thighs still trembling from the force of his thrusts, she knew she would be stopping at that diner for coffee again. Reluctance It's a strange thing to experience. I work the bar and people often tend to forget I'm there. They do things and say things in front of me that they wouldn't do or say in front of someone else. But I don't count. I'm just part of the furniture. However, I will admit to some surprise when even the boss seemed to forget I existed. I always have to come in early, before the dining room opens, making sure that everything is in place. This day I was at a loose end. I was too far from home to actually go home for a while, because as soon as I got there I'd have to turn around and go to work. It was also a scorcher of a day, and as I was fairly close to work it seemed reasonable to me that I should just get to work early. I could get my preparatory chores done and then sit back in air-conditioned comfort and watch TV until it was time to open the dining room and bar. So I rock up to work, waving to the boss who was sitting in the dining room chatting to some bird, as I entered. He gave me a nod and then ignored me. Part of the furniture, that's me. I fiddled around doing this and that. The bird the boss was talking to wandered off and another one popped up and sat at the boss's table and they started talking. I could hear a bit of what they were saying as I went back and forth and I pretty quickly caught on to what was going on. We were short staffed and the boss was looking for a couple of replacements. The economy was tight and jobs were hard to come by, so the boss was able to be a bit picky. From what I heard he was now going through his short list. I'd settled down to watch TV and if you didn't know I was there you wouldn't notice me, but the point was the boss did know I was there. It just hadn't registered with him. What turned out to be the final interviewee came in, and I knew she was the one the boss wanted. He always keeps the one he wants until last. That way he can offer her the job on the spot if she does meet his requirements. This woman was a honey. Blonde with a lovely pair of knockers and legs that stretched all the way up to heaven. Short skirt and a see-through blouse that revealed a lovely lacy bra. Completely wasted doing waitressing jobs, but like I said, times were hard. As far as I could tell the interview went well and I thought the woman was a shoo-in for the job. The way she was smiling and chatting, so did she. Then the boss put the hard word on her. Now I knew that the boss had sex with some of the waitresses, but he'd always been kind of discrete about it. The girls didn't have much choice in the matter if they wanted to keep their jobs and he always picked women without husbands. Like I said, I knew this. Proving it was another matter entirely, because he was always so careful. Lust must have made him a little careless this time. "OK," the boss tells her. "You seem just the person I want to hire, but I have to ask myself, if I hire this woman, what's in it for me?" The woman seemed slightly taken aback. She'd already answered all the questions about how she could handle the job, but she started to trot the answers out again. The boss held up a hand to stem the flow of words. "You misunderstand. I know what the company will get. What I want to know is what you'll do for me personally. You have to remember that times are hard and jobs are scarce and I'm looking for someone who'll give that little personal touch." He was looking right at her boobs when he gave that little speech. No way did she miss the meaning. Her voice was rather chilly when she replied. "Are you suggesting you'll want sexual favours?" she asked. "God forbid," said the boss. "That would be sexual harassment of my staff and I'd never do such a thing." Would you believe the lying bastard said that with a perfectly straight face? It was a superb performance. The girl actually looked a little relieved. The relief vanished when the boss continued. "Of course, you haven't been hired yet, have you?" Blondie gave him a killing look but she wanted, probably needed, the job. "So do you want me to give you a hand job or a blow job?" she asked bluntly. The boss was equally blunt. "Neither. I want you to bend over this table right now. I'll pull down your panties and fuck you. If you can handle that you've got the job." Now I was sitting there behind the bar in plain view, but neither of them even saw me. Blondie gave the boss a look, and I could see she was considering the matter. I could almost tell when she gave a mental shrug and decided why not. Now I'm not saying that Blondie was going to be a willing participant in this. Everything about her shouted reluctance, but she was going to go through with it. She stood up and leaned on the table, resting her head on her folded arms. The boss came around and stopped behind her. He lifted her dress and pulled down her panties and started groping her. Blondie just stood there, bent over and looking bored. She started drumming her fingers on the table. The boss spent several minutes playing with Blondie's pussy while she seemed to just totally ignore what was happening. I almost laughed at the next stage. Next to the table, and in arms reach, was a shelf. On the shelf were a number of magazine that patrons could browse while waiting for their meal. So, the boss finally dropped his trousers and whipped out his Wicked Willy, ready to take it for a spin. One look at the size of the boss's dick and I knew he was totally outclassed by Blondie. He thrust forward hard and fast. Sort of in a 'Take this, bitch' attitude. Blondie reached out one long arm and extracted a magazine from the shelf and started browsing. The boss hadn't even noticed. So can you just picture it? There was the boss with his wee willy going to town, ravishing this lovely bit of feminine pulchritude, and there was Blondie, reading a magazine and apparently not aware that the boss had gone into action. The boss huffed and puffed and did his best, but I'm prepared to swear that he did not get one jot of response from Blondie. Eventually the boss blew his load and slumped over, leaning on Blondie and breathing heavily. She turned her head and looked at. "Finished, are we?" she asked in a kind voice. The sort of voice a mother would use on a child who had just thrown a temper tantrum. "Then how about we get the employment contracts signed?" The boss was completely deflated. He produced the contracts and signed her up and then left. Blondie finished tidying herself up and then managed to shock me. She came over to me and ordered a drink. I gave her one on the house. Reluctance Many thanks to HMAuthor for all the hard work in editing and improving this story from a previous version. * Something clammy was covering Dalton's face when he woke up, and the first thing he did was reach to remove it. The second thing he did was try to say something when he found that he couldn't move his arms. Actually, he could move them, but not much. He felt them being held to his sides. He couldn't see them, but he could see his legs. When he saw his legs, he tried to yell. He heard his yell, but barely, because it was muffled by the clammy thing on his face. Then he looked up and saw a mirror on the ceiling. That's when he really got frightened. Reflected in the mirror was a body nearly covered in latex. It was on a bed, with cushions raising the upper body to a 45-degree angle. The arms were strapped to each side of the body, but the legs were in the air. They were held there by cables coming down from the ceiling that were attached to latex sheaths encasing each calf. The calves were not only raised but also pulled back toward the upper body and spread wide apart, pulling the butt slightly off the bed. The legs were pulled far enough apart to see the anus between the hairy cheeks. Dalton knew even before he watched the body in the mirror try to move its legs that the body was his body, covered in latex, but naked from below his belly button to the top of his thighs. There were also a couple of openings where his nipples were. His head was in a latex hood, with openings only at the eyes and each nostril. For a while, he tested the restraints, but when he saw that it was useless he stopped moving and started thinking. The last thing he remembered was sitting at the kitchen table with Polly and Terry. He didn't remember the conversation, but he didn't think it was an argument this time. For the past two years he and Polly had been doing nothing but fighting. It had started when he had lost his job. For a while he had looked for work but one day, after another unsuccessful interview, he had gone to a bar and drunk himself into oblivion, missing two other appointments. After that, he had given up trying. At first, Polly had been sympathetic, but as he began drinking all day while she was gone, she had become impatient. She had been supporting the two of them, and told him that she didn't mind that, but he had to start going to Alcoholics Anonymous or some other support group to get help. He had kept promising, but never kept his promises. She had started threatening to throw him out, but never followed through. They had settled into an unhappy pattern of her threatening him and nagging him to do something about his alcoholism, and him ditting and steaming silently, hating her and hating himself. Then one day, he had snapped and yelled back at her and slapped her. She had run to the bathroom, locking herself in for an hour. He had heard her crying while he was apologizing outside and begging her to forgive him. A week later, he had done it again, this time he punching her in the stomach and pulling her hair. It had gotten worse from there. Her body had become covered with bruises. At first when he was sober, he had felt terrible and apologized to her and even cried when he saw what he had done. But then he hadn't been able to face what he was doing and stayed drunk most of the time. She had screamed and yelled and tried to fight back when he attacked her, but for some reason, she hadn't walked out on him. She had started wearing clothes that covered her shame and begun putting on heavy makeup to hide her discolored face. Her friends had known their relationship was stormy, but it wasn't until nine months after the abuse started that they had found out .They had confronted him, and he had wept and apologized and said he would start going to AA and wouldn't hurt her again, but he lied about both things. He remembered her friend Terry had come over. It was a Saturday morning, and they had all been drinking coffee. He tried hard to remember the conversation, but he couldn't. He had no idea how he had gotten into the bizarre latex outfit he was wearing or how he had gone from sitting at his kitchen table to being unable to move on this bed. He lay quietly for a while, and then he heard voices. He saw two young women walk into the room and come over to look at him. They were both beautiful blondes, and they were also dressed in latex. Their outfits were tight and looked like they were molded to their voluptuous bodies. They were cut low at the the bodice, so their full breasts were almost falling out of them, and there was just a narrow piece of latex, like a bikini between their firm round buttocks, which were almost fully exposed. They were wearing latex boots with high spike heels. Despite his situation, he was aroused when he looked at the women. They were talking English, but he had a hard time understanding them, and not just because his ears were covered with the latex hood. They both had thick European accents. "Sorry I'm late, Alicia" said one. "One of the stupid zippers got stuck. These outfits take forever." "No problem, Brianna" said the other. "But we're on in 10 minutes. Let's go over the data sheets right away." They walked a few steps away from Dalton, so their voices were softer. He strained to hear them. "He's a Russian," said Alicia, "and his name is Igor. Sure it is. Terry recruited him. That's funny. She's never brought in anyone before." Terry, thought Dalton. So Terry has something to do with this. Polly was talking about Terry the other day. She was worried about her because of her new web design job. He tried to remember why Polly was upset. She had said It wasn't a reputable company. That was it. Terry was working for a company that owned a bunch of porn sites. "This is his first time live streaming, according to Terry," said Brianna, "but his girlfriend, Irina, is a domme, and he has been doing this stuff with her for fun. He got so excited about being on the Internet with us that he wrote out all sorts of suggestions. Here's the list of what he's willing to do. It covers everything we do, plus some really extreme stuff. I don't even know if Susie and Cindy do some of these things. "He says here that he loves to pretend he's reluctant with his girlfriend, so she will force him to do the things he likes, so he's going to act like he's fighting us today. And he's even written an outline of a script that we can improvise around. "It sounds like it might be fun for the audience. He's supposed to be an alcoholic and has been abusing his girlfriend, beating her up and so forth. She and some friends drugged him and brought him here to be taught a lesson. We're not supposed to take off his hood, so nobody will ever know it's him, except the girlfriend and her friends. I think we can do that, although the hood will have to come off for the finale." Dalton listened in a daze. Were they talking about him? What was going on? The girls came over to him. "Welcome, Igor," said Alicia. "For a first timer, you seem to know a lot about what we do. We like your ideas, so once the cameras are on, we'll play it out the way you wrote it. You sound so enthusiastic that we doubt you'll be able to act reluctant for long. Remember, the key to making the audience think you're unwilling is to control your excitement. We know from experience it will be hard for you to act reluctant, but we'll try to help as much as we can. Our audience really gets turned on by imagining our guests are being forced. "Terry probably told you that the show is streaming live and the audience submits suggestions online for what we should do to you. I'm sure their suggestions will be somewhere on the list you gave us, so there won't be any surprises. From start to finish, it's an hour. Brianna and I are usually exhausted after an hour, and I'm sure you will be too. "OK, I see the cameras are all set up, and those hot lights have been turned on. Let's see what we can do to please the folks." She turned from him and walked a few steps away, where he couldn't see her. Then he heard some rock music briefly, and as it faded away, he heard Brianna speaking. "Hi guys," she said, "welcome back. Yes, we love you, too. Thanks for the nice messages even before we start. Well, Alicia and I have another special guest to introduce this week. His name is Igor, and he's from Russia. "Unlike most of our guests, Igor is not happy to see us. See, Igor is what we call reluctant. He doesn't want to be here. But he's been a bad boy. He wouldn't stop beating up his girlfriend, and so she and some of her friends put something in his coffee and brought him to our studios and got him all ready for the Brianna and Alicia Show. "We know how much you like reluctant guests, so if you have any friends who you think would enjoy this, call or text them right now. It's going to be a special show. You know we love you guys and always do our best to make our shows special. "Wow! That was fast. It looks like we already have double the usual viewers, and we haven't started yet. Thanks for texting your friends. We promise not to disappoint anyone. And look at all the suggestions you've already sent us. You haven't even seen Igor. Let's go over and meet him now." "Here he is," said Alicia. "As you can see, guys, he's not a pudgy little guy like some of our guests. He's big, and he's solid, and look down here. Let me pick it up. I think this is the longest, thickest one we've ever seen on our show. I wonder what it will look like when it's hard. Let me hold it here and give it a little slap to say hello. Look at it flop back and forth. I don't think Igor liked that from the way his body reacted. "I wonder what he'll think of this. Get a camera in here where I'm grabbing the bottom of his thing. If I grab it here, I can twist it around like this. It's getting all twisted, Igor, like you are, because you hit your girlfriend. Now I'll let it go and watch it spin around while I slap it. It's stopped, but let me give it five hard slaps to send it flying again. Now how about five hard slaps on his balls? "I can hear you, Igor. Your girlfriend made us promise to cover your head so nobody would find out who you are or your moans and screams would be a lot louder. But we can still hear you even through your hood, can't we, guys? "My my. What's happening out there? I think you like it so far, because you must have been telling some more friends. We have more than a hundred of you watching already. I'm so excited to be sharing Igor with all our new friends, and our regular fans, too. Let's take a look at some of the suggestions coming in. "I see several of you have the same idea. You want us to milk Igor with our special pump. It's a great idea. His penis and balls are so large, there's probably a lot of milk inside him. And who knows, he might get thirsty. Yes, I see that a lot of you made that suggestion, too, so we'll get to that later. "OK, Brianna and I are going to be busy for a few minutes, but our assistants are going to move the lights in closer so the cameras can get good closeups of what we're going to do next." Dalton tried to escape Alicia's hands when she began playing with his penis, but he was helpless. And the pain was so bad when she began slapping it, he felt like he would faint. But that was nothing compared to the agony of her slapping his testicles. When she finished, he was gasping. He listened to her and tried to understand what she was saying. He saw and felt some hot lights being moved near his crotch, but then he couldn't see what was going on because the girls were bending over him. He felt his balls and penis being moved around for a few minutes, and then the girls stood up. "There we are," said Alica. "You're so big that you won't go all the way into the tube, Igor, but I don't think that will cause any problems. Can you see yourself inside the clear plastic? Let me clean the outside off a little so our friends watching won't have any trouble seeing. That's it. OK, we're ready. Turn on the juice, Brianna. Do you feel anything yet, Igor? Maybe not. Our milking machine is always set on low suction, so the man doesn't finish too fast. But look, the suction is already pulling and stretching your penis, and you're all red inside there. Our fans love to watch as you get aroused and then agitated before your milk comes gushing out. And that's only the beginning of the fun. Because we're going to keep this going for almost the entire hour and see how many times we can make you come. After a while, you'll be sucked dry, but you'll come anyway. You can't help yourself with our little sucker. When there's nothing left to come out, it's not a good feeling. What is it Brianna?" Brianna had just screamed loudly and then giggled. "Look at the numbers, Alicia," she yelled. "We're up to a thousand. I think Igor is going to set a new record for us. You guys, we love you. You're really getting into this. And lots of women have joined you. The women are really spreading the word. There are lots more of you than we've ever had. You don't like what Igor did to his girlfriend, and I don't blame you. "All of you are really getting aroused by Igor's twisting and turning. Well, everybody, keep those hands going between your legs, because you ain't seen nothin' yet. Thank you so much for telling your friends. Where else are they going to get so much entertainment for so little money?" "Look, Brianna," said Alicia. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I see Igor's big thing vibrating a little inside that plastic tunnel, and his body's jumping like crazy. Get ready, everybody. I think Igor's about to come hard. Wheeee! There he goes. Look at that jism squirting out of him. Watch everybody, it's getting sucked up that tube and ending up here in our collection jar. We're not going to let any of it go to waste, nosiree." "While our little sucker finishes collecting everything Igor can give up, we have some requests to pay attention to this little puckered rosebud right below his balls, Alicia," said Brianna. "Would you like to start, or shall I?" "Go right ahead," said Alicia. "OK, we want to carefully explore the little treasure in the middle of Igor's hairy jungle," said Brianna. "If you're thinking about doing this at home, first of all, don't, because we're professionals, and it's much safer to watch us. But if you do anyway, watch what I do. See, I start slowly. Just one finger dipped into this thick white lube. If you are low on money, just buy some Crisco, like we did. "Now, in it goes. Just a little finger, but Igor definitely responded. Most men like a finger or two in there when you're making love, but then again, a lot of them just get upset, and that's also fun, right Igor? Are you trying to say something through your hood? I wish we could take it off, but we promised your girlfriend. "Now, see I'm taking my finger out and dipping two fingers in the lube, and then back they go. Let's move them in and out of Igor, slowly and gently. Alicia turned off the sucker, but why don't you turn it back on now, and let's see if my two fingers can help the sucker get Igor hard again. Look at that> He may be unhappy about my fingers, but nobody told his penis. "Now, we'll see what happens when three fingers are coated with lube and slowly pushed into Igor. Wow! That was some reaction! And you know what's coming next? Did you hear that, guys? He's got a lot of energy. Look how he started moving his butt back and forth when I took my fingers out. It looks like he doesn't want them inside anymore. "Let me get all four fingers coated, and then we'll play a game of dodgeball. OK, here I come, Igor. That was great. You felt my fingers touching your little rosebud, and you moved it fast. Isn't this fun? Here they come again, and there you go. Let's try again. You have good reactions. But we have lots of things to do, so I'm sorry, but this time, I'm going to have to follow your butt as it moves and slowly push and push and there, we've got four inside. Let's move them in and out. You aren't enjoying this, Igor, but I don't think your girlfriend enjoyed it when you were battering her. Since you punched her, I think I need to punch you, too. Wait, what is it, Alicia?" "We just beat our record," said Alicia, "and the numbers are still going up. All you guys and gals out there, we love you to death, especially me, because my car's dying, but guess what? I'm putting a down payment on a new one tomorrow. Thank you so much. I would love to just thank you for the rest of the hour, but that's not why you're here, is it, folks? "You know what, I'm so happy, I'm going to join Brianna, if she doesn't mind. I'd like to put some fingers into Igor, too. Is that what you'd like, folks? Well, that was a flood of messages with one word, so let's see what we can do. Here we are. First I want to give Brianna a big kiss for being the best co-host a girl could ever have. "Now I want to give her a high five, like this, and now I want to give her a low five, but where is her other hand. Oh, there it is, inside Igor, or at least four fingers are. If I want to put my fingers against hers, I guess I've got to go into that hairy pit, too. Don't go crazy on me, Igor. I haven't even done anything, and you're throwing your body around like a flipping fish. "I know you can take one little bitty finger next to Brianna's. See, that wasn't hard. Now, let's try for two. That's good, Brianna, move your fingers around like that to make room. Yay! Two are in. Now it's getting a little crowded in there. I hear you puffing up there, Igor. Just hold on, because I'm coming. And a little twist here, and we have three fingers plus four fingers. "Now it's time to pray. I'm going to get my four fingers touching Brianna's four fingers like we're praying inside your anus. That's going to take a little work. Your head is knocking against the mattress, Igor. Good thing it's nice and soft. Just relax if you can. It will only take a second. Let me wiggle this and slide it over here, and there were are. We did it! "Now turn and face the camera and smile, Brianna. Look at the messages pouring in. They love it. Are you smiling or frowning, Igor? Well, Brianna and I are going to continue our duet for the folks now, because we're going to keep our hands flat and tight on each other and start slowly moving out of you, like that. Not all the way, but just to the first knuckle, and now back in as far as we can go. Too bad we can't go further, but our thumbs are in the way. "Can you hear Igor, folks? It doesn't sound like he's enjoying our low fives. OK, everybody out there, go one and two and one and two with us, and we're slowly going to pick up the speed like a choo-choo train. All of you, omigosh, more than 5,000 of you, are on this train. Wow, look at that! We're cruising down the track as smooth as you please. Thanks, Brianna. Get that lube ready, with your right hand and now push it between our hands and make a little space and shove it in. Did you see that folks. For a second there were two hands and another hand in between them? Oops! What happened? "What did you say? We're down? OK, Brianna, why don't you pull out first, and then I will. What happened?" Dalton's head collapsed down onto the bed as the hands came out. He saw the girls get up and walk away. He felt like he had been split in two at his crotch. His mind was barely working. All he knew was that these two hot girls were destroying him, and somehow Terry was involved. He tried to think of how he could escape, but he saw it was hopeless. The girls came back and walked up to him. "I'm turning off the pump for now, Igor," said Alicia, "because we've been knocked out. Don't be upset. It's actually exciting. So many people joined our live stream that it overloaded our servers and we went down. They're working to patch almost every server on the site to our show now. Brianna and I are on commission, and we're making more money tonight than we've made for the entire last 2 1/2 years I've been working here. I think I might even make enough to pay off my college loan and look for a real job. Reluctance "And it's all thanks to you, Igor. Thank you so much. I know you're loving this, but you are a heck of an actor. All those people watching believe that story you made up and think you are reluctant. You are acting out their fantasies. Because of you, all three of us are going to get a big bonus today, on top of everything else. "The techs think it will take about 10 minutes to get us live online again, and we're not going to count the down time, so the program will run a little longer. When we start again, we'll begin right where we left off, but your anus has contracted back to normal, so we are going to open it up now. That way it will be ready for action when we're live again. "I'm sure you and Irina have done something similar to this. Brianna is sliding something called a bladder inside you now. It's basically just a balloon, but when it's inflated, it's in the shape of a blimp, and it's made of thick rubber, so it won't explode inside you. Now we're attaching a little hand pump to the nozzle, and we're inflating it very carefully. I see you're starting to feel it now. "There. Can you feel how it's opened you really wide, even wider than our eight fingers? So we'll have no trouble getting both our hands up you when we're ready to start. As soon as we get the signal, we'll deflate it and pull it out and put our hands back in." The blimp inside him hurt more than the fingers, because it went in much deeper, and when the cameraman gave the signal to get ready, he was happy when it was deflated and slowly pulled out. But then the two facing hands of Alicia and Brianna went back in, and it wasn't that much better after all. "We're back live, people, and we're so sorry," said Brianna to the camera. "We've been waiting here for you, and we're glad to see you again. If you don't know, our servers went down because there were just too many of you. I think we made history tonight. But the techs promised me they ramped up the connection so it could take millions of you. If you want, you can tell more of your friends. "You were probably frustrated by losing the connection, but don't worry. Because you stuck with us, we're going to go past an hour and give you 65 full minutes with Igor. You ladies really despise him, don't you? Remember, he's not a mass murderer. "So no matter how many of you ask, we're not going to snuff him, but we're going to go through as many of your suggestions as we can in the time we have left -- at least the legal ones. "Oh, Igor is starting his special shake again, and we know what that means. Let's take a close-up of his huge red thing inside the sucker. Yes, it's vibrating, and there it goes. Not as much as the first time, but definitely more than most of you guys can produce. I see you guys really liked seeing him come with eight fingers in his ass. "But eight is not enough, guys and gals, so I'm going to tuck my thumb behind my fingers. Look how easy that was. I think I can keep going, going, all the way, and look at that. My whole hand went in. It's like Igor expanded his anus for me. Now it's Alicia's turn. Let's watch her slide the rest of her hand in. That was even faster than me. "Look at Igor twisting and turning as we move our hands around inside him. Don't try this at home, kids. Oh, look, we just broke our record of half an hour ago, and your friends are still joining up. Let's hope the servers can handle all of you for the rest of the show. "Now, we're going to carefully pull our hands out and turn Igor over. He's trying to resist. See how he's trying to get away from us. You're funny, Igor. You can't escape your punishment. Alicia and Brianna are in control. Now that you're on your stomach, we're putting some pillows under your stomach to lift your rear up so that all our friends get a better view. "Remember a while ago, when I talked about how you punched your girlfriend, Igor. It's time for payback. I've got your hairy ass in front of me, and I'm going to punch it right now. There, I punched you very slowly right in the middle of your cheeks, and look how they opened up to let my fist go into your anus, all the way to my wrist again. Now, I'll pull out slowly, and then here it comes, another punch in the anus with my other fist, a little faster this time. And now out it goes, a little faster. And back in comes the other fist a little faster. "You're really reacting each time I punch you Igor. Are you thinking about how you punched your girlfriend? Now I'm punching as hard and fast as I can, and I hear you under that hood. OK, I think that's enough of that. Oh, Alicia's pointing to the sucker again. What's happening, Alicia?" "Well, even while you were punching his asshole, he was getting aroused by the sucker," said Alicia. "Let's pull his penis back between his legs while he stays in the doggie position -- like that. Watch now! There he goes again. Not as much semen going into the collector this time, but we have plenty already. "Some of the fans who joined late don't know that once there isn't any more semen, the sucker will still make him come, but since his body has nothing to ejaculate, it makes for an interesting reaction. You'll soon see what I mean. "Meanwhile, some of you have suggested some things for me to do with his testicles. First, I'm going to take those huge things in my hand and turn them this way, like I was twisting his penis earlier. Now watch as I keep turning and his sack gets wound up tighter and tighter. Do you see how he's twitching all over? Don't do this at home, because one turn too many, and the ball sack can rip, and then the balls fall out, and then there's one less male in the population. But we're professionals, so we know when to stop, like now. Now watch closely as I release the balls and they spin like crazy. Whee! "You crazy balls, how about a little slap. That got a little reaction. Let's try a harder slap and see if we can get a harder reaction. Now a bunch of hard slaps. Look how they're getting all red. Let's grab them again and this time pull them up this way. "Look how far I can pull them from Igor's body. Watch me put my other hand behind his stretched out sack. The sack is so thin, you can see my hand right through it. I'll let it snap back now. Look at those balls shoot back down. Let's do that a few more times. Watch how Igor tries to move toward me when I begin pulling, and when he can't any more, he tries to hold his body up high to lessen the stretching. This time, I'm going to hold his balls still when they're stretched, and we'll watch him get tired and see what happens when his body drops down and causes the membrane to stretch even more. What are you suggesting, guys? You guys are such sillies. We can't do that, because that would be the end of the show. "Now a little treat for the foot fetishists. Let me take my boots off quickly. Now I'm ready. You regulars know I'm pretty good in karate and practice all the time. So watch closely because I'm going to do some spin jump moves really fast, and each time I'm going to kick a certain target so fast, you probably won't even see my foot connect. There's the first one. Now you know the target, because you saw them flying and you may have heard Igor from under his hood. "Get ready balls, because I'm going to spin and kick from different angles and even from up in the air. Watch his balls, boys and girls. I'm pretty fast, but maybe you can see me connect. This part is being filmed in slo-mo so when you watch the video later, you'll see the connection more clearly. "Thank you so much everyone for letting me know how much you liked that. Let's let him recover a little now. This is so much fun; except for Igor, of course, but he doesn't deserve any fun for what he did to his girlfriend. It's Brianna's turn again." "Hi, everybody," said Brianna. "We're getting low on time, but we're going to try to get some of the most popular requests in before the show is over. You spanking nuts have been panting ever since we turned him over. Yes, he's got a nice round butt. See Alicia holding a long, thin cane? I've got one to match. We're going to take turns and go really fast and hard. First you'll see some deep red lines on his white butt, and then there should be some purple welts that start coming up like a mountain range. And wait until you see what happens when our canes hit the welts. "Look how Igor's whole body is jumping. He won't be able to sit down for a few weeks after this. I think this and the fist punching are going to make him think twice before he abuses his girlfriend again, don't you? "Oh look! The caning hasn't kept him from responding to the sucker. He's starting to shake that special way, and I think he's about to come. Pull it out back under his red cheeks so we can see. Yes, there he goes, and I don't think I saw more than a couple of drops come out. That's why he twisted that weird way. It was much fun for him this time. We're going to let the sucker do him once more to show him how coming isn't always so great. Ha ha! "Meanwhile, our fans are reminding us that he's probably ready for refreshment, but I see a problem. We need to confer." The two girls got up and walked away. Dalton could hear them whispering, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. He was crying uncontrollably under his hood, and his mind was empty of everything except what his body was feeling. They returned a minute later holding a long, thin cocktail glass. "Look, everybody," said Alicia. "Brianna is such a smart girl. She thought of this. You know we like to give our guests a special refreshing creamy drink at the end of the show, but Igor's mouth is covered because his girlfriend doesn't want anyone to find out who he is. So how is he going to enjoy his drink? "Brianna figured it out. And that's why we have this glass and these two big boba straws. Wendy and Helen, our two beautiful Chinese makeup girls, love to suck on balls every day. No, guys, they won't come on the show. What they suck are those tapioca balls in their drinks. So Brianna's idea was to borrow their thick boba straws. "Now watch us, because this one isn't dangerous, and you could try it at home. We've never done anything like it before, so we don't know exactly what will happen, and that's exciting. All of you are witnessing a world premiere. Just watch Brianna in the close-up, and I'll explain what she's doing. "First, you see she disconnected the collection container from the sucker. Look at Igor's penis while she does it. It got all big and hard again. I think it's going to come in a minute or so, but everything is already sucked out of poor Igor, so we don't need the container anymore. Now Alicia is pouring some of the container into the tall glass. Oh goody! There's lots of yummy drink left in the container. I think we can do this right up to the end of the show if it's as exciting as I hope it will be. "Now, she's taking her boba straw -- wait. I hear some horrible sounds coming from Igor's hood. Do you hear him? This is what it sounds like when you guys have a dry orgasm. Your body has nothing left to spurt, so it gets really sad and everything and causes a special kind of feeling all through your crotch. I think this was worse for Igor than what we did to his balls before. Let's stop a second and watch while he twists around. "It looks like he's calming down now. You guys really got off on that, I see. OK, before the grand finale, Brianna and I need to know. Click on a number at the bottom of your screen in the pink come box and then click on the submit button. Be honest. Have you come once during the show? Or twice? Or more? Tell us how many times. Oh, the numbers are coming in, and they're incredible. No zeroes yet, and one of you -- I'm sure it's a certain girl in Muncee -- has already come 18 times. Well, get ready for at least one more, guys and gals. Are your fingers and hands all set? Here we go! "Watch Brianna dip her boba straw all the way to the bottom of the tall glass filled with Igor's special white Russian cocktail. Now see how she's put her pretty index finger over the end of the straw tightly. That keeps the come inside. Watch what happens as she lifts up the straw. See, there was a little drop on the end that fell back into the glass, but the rest of the come is trapped in the straw, and it won't come out. "Now, she's taking the straw and coming over to Igor. There it is high above him. I think he's realizing what she's going to do, because he's shaking his head and twisting it around. He's trying to be a moving target. Sometimes anticipation is worse than the real thing, Igor, but not in this case, I don't think. Wow! He's really going wild as he sees that straw come down. Let's let him avoid it for a while and watch what he does. He's like a human bobble head, isn't he? "But he's starting to slow down. That took a lot of energy, Igor. Thank you for the show! Now just relax. I'm going to move over here by you and sit on this high stool. Now I'm going to gently move you this way until your nice latex head is resting in my lap. Now I'm going to move my thighs apart and let it drop a little, like that, and now I'm going to move my thighs together like this to cradle your head and hold it firm. You're still trying to move it, but now you can't. Now let me put a little dab of Crisco outside the right nostril. I'm looking into your eyes, and I see incredible fear, Igor. Can you folks at home see it, too? "OK, Brianna, we're all ready for that straw full of Igor's cocktail. See how she's spinning it around a little in the Crisco so it goes into Igor's right nostril smoothly. There, she's got it far enough down so it's tight and won't come loose. Ready? OK, now she's taking her finger off the end, and the delicious drink is pouring into Igor. "Wow! Did you hear that? It's the sound of the Igor feeling his come burning his nostril and pouring into his mouth and him choking as he gulps it as fast as he can to it doesn't choke him. You're doing great, Igor. Don't worry folks, it's not going to kill him. If we wanted to do that, we would pour the cocktail into both nostrils and push the latex hood tight into his mouth so he couldn't breathe at all. Then he would drown in his own come. I just said that for you sadists out there, but as you can see, we're leaving one nostril open so he can breathe, and he'll be fine. But it doesn't look like he's enjoying his come, and it may get worse. "Because now it's my turn. There's still a lot of come in Igor's right nostril, so I'm going to push the left one shut with my finger. Now he has to breathe through the right nostril and inhale all the rest of his come. Does it smell good, Igor? "Now his right nostril seems to be clear. Here goes my straw into the glass and into the left nostril, and up goes my finger and down goes the come, and Igor's choking and swallowing again. I wish we could see his face. I'm sure his expression is beautiful. OK, your turn again Brianna. Let's see how much we can feed him before the show is over. We'll say goodbye now, boys and girls. We hope you enjoyed the Alicia and Brianna Show and you'll be back with us next week. "I think Igor is going to be a good boy after this and treat his girlfriend with respect, but if he doesn't, maybe she'll bring him back for some more fun. I see everyone out there would love that, so you better shape up Igor, because next time Brianna and I won't be so easy on you. Ha ha ha. Goodbye everyone. You can watch us feeding Igor until the program ends. "And don't forget, since all of you paid for a month of membership, you can watch our video with Igor for free as many times as you want for the next 30 days. We love you all. "Oh, I almost forgot. Be sure to stay on for the Susie and Cindy Show, you know, the wax girls. All of you, all over the world, can watch the first 10 minutes for free. You're going to love what they do to their gentleman guest with their hot waxes and the weights and clamps they attach in amazing places. You'll want to join their show, too, so you can see the end, when they start shooting the electrical jolts to the clamps and into their guest's ass. You won't believe his reaction. So stay tuned for Susie and Cindy. Bye now. We love you." When the camera lights finally went off and Alicia and Brianna stopped pouring come down his nose, Dalton felt like a lump of jelly, no longer human. He was exhausted, and he wanted to pass out, but the nausea caused by the smell in his nose and the taste in his mouth was keeping him awake, and that kept him feeling the pain inside his anus and in his testicles and the buttocks that were raw and bruised. Even though no one was touching him anymore, he couldn't keep from squirming and moaning. He saw Alicia and Brianna looking at him. "The cameras are off, Igor," said Alicia. "You don't have to do that if you don't want to. I'm sure you must be as exhausted and exhilarated as we are." "It was a privilege working with you," said Brianna. "You are in a class by yourself. And if you ever want to come back and do any more things on your list, we'd love to work with you again. I know you're going to be getting a big bonus for today, and you've earned every cent. Thanks so much." "Yes, thank you," said Alicia. "We're going to our dressing rooms to freshen up for a minute, but we'll be right back to film the closing bit for the video. And then I think, Brianna and I are going out to celebrate. We'd love it if you'd join us, but Terry says you want to remain anonymous. We'll be toasting you, that's for sure." As the girls walked away, he saw two other women rushing up to him. When they bent over him, he saw it was Terry and Nora. Nora was another friend of Polly's. She was also hot, but nobody noticed that at first, because she was 6 feet 3 and had a lot of muscles. Nora lifted him up in her strong arms and carried his limp body over to a couch where she sat him up and sat down next to him with her arm around him to prop him up while Terry kneeled down in front of him, put her face close to his and began talking. "Dalton, we'll explain everything in a little while, but now you have to concentrate. Nora is your girlfriend, and she'll sit next to you for the video and keep you propped up like you are. She'll do most of the talking, but you've got to say a few lines. I've got them written on a big card in case you forget, and I'll be standing by the cameraman, so keep your eyes on me. If you look at Alicia or Brianna or Nora, remember to always look back at me so you can read the card at the right time. Look, here is the card. If you can read it, nod. "You need to respond, Dalton, because we don't have much time. If you don't respond, Nora is going to tell the crew here that you don't want to say anything yet, not until after you do the next show with Susie and Cindy, the wax girls. If you think you went through hell just now, you don't understand how much easier that is than having heavy weights pulling your balls to the floor and a dildo up your ass that is shooting electricity into your colon. Do you want that? I see you're shaking your head. Good. Now read your lines. Do you understand what you need to say? "Good. OK. This is only going to take a few minutes. When people download the video from the site, it will have this scene with you and Nora and Alicia and Brianna showing that you are all friendly and that you really enjoyed being abused by the two beautiful dominatrices. The authorities are always trying to shut down our site, so this is insurance for us. "All you need to do is nod that you understand and agree with what Nora and the hosts are saying, and at the right part, you'll say these two sentences. Got it? Oh, and take these balloons in your hand. You'll present one to each of the girls when Nora tells you to. Here, I'll take the third one. Hold him still, Nora, while I peel back his hood over his mouth for a second. Reluctance "That's it, Dalton, breathe deeply. The hood has to go back over your mouth for now, but soon we'll take it off. OK, hold still. I've got this balloon untied, and I'm pinching the end tight. Now I'm going to stick the end in your mouth like this and let go. There, that was perfect. I think all the gas went in. No one will recognize your voice now. We're ready for the girls. I'll go and get them." Dalton's brain was moving slowly. He tried to focus. All he knew was he had to do what Terry said, because he didn't want to meet Susie and Cindy. The thought that she was lying and bluffing never entered his crazed mind. He was so broken, he would have done anything she asked him to if it would prevent more abuse. He focused on Terry and her big piece of cardboard with the words written on it. He had to say those words right or -- he didn't want to think of the alternative. Alicia and Brianna squeezed onto the couch next to him and Nora. They looked at the camera, waiting for a signal. Brianna spoke first. "This is really unusual to meet our guest's girlfriend, but welcome to the show, Irina." "Thank you," said Nora in a deep voice. "Tell us about you and Igor," said Alicia. "Well, we love each other very much," said Nora. "We've been together for three years. I never knew anyone like Igor before, and when he wanted me to start doing things to him, at first I was disgusted. But then I realized that each man has different sex fantasies, and there was nothing wrong with Igor enjoying pain and humiliation, as long as it wasn't hurting anyone else. What he likes best is to make up stories, like he did for the show, and then act them out." "So the two of you have been doing the things we did to Igor for quite a while?" said Brianna. "Yes, all except the straws," said Nora. "That was a stroke of genius. Igor told me he wants to do that with me next time." "Let's hear a little from Igor," said Alicia. "Igor, I know you're tired, and I can understand why you want to remain anonymous, because you are a corporate executive in Moscow. But tell us, did you really enjoy our session?" Dalton was looking at Terry. She moved her head sideways and nodded hard up and down. Why was she doing that? Then he got it. He turned to Alicia and nodded. "He doesn't know much English," said Nora, "but he understands you." "Funny how you don't have much of an accent, Irina," said Brianna. "Can he say anything for us? He looked like he was in terrible pain when we were abusing him? We want to make sure he's all right and he was really just acting." "Of course," said Irina, "but first he has a gift for you, isn't that right, Igor, honey." Dalton was watching Terry again and saw her pantomime stretching her hand out. He turned to Alicia and Brianna and handed them each a brightly colored balloon. "Why thank you, Igor," said Brianna. "That's so nice of you." Dalton turned back to Terry and saw her pointing to his script. He turned back to Brianna and Alicia and started reciting it. "You're welcome," he said, and then he stopped. His voice was strange. It was high and squeaky and funny, like a duck in a cartoon. He hesitated. Then he realized it was only the helium in the balloon to disguise his voice. He looked at the script again and then at Brianna and Terry. "This was an amazing experience," he said. "Thank you so much. I'm just so tired now that it's hard for me to talk." He looked back at Terry, and she was nodding hard and giving him the thumbs up. There, he did it. That's all he had to do. He turned and looked at Alicia and Brianna again. "That's really an unusual voice for a man as big as you, Igor," said Brianna. "Yes," said Nora, "he's a little sensitive about it. But I can assure you, he's no wimp." "Of course not," said Alicia. "Well, thank you very much Irina and, of course, Igor. Brianna and I just want to tell you again, Igor, how much we enjoyed working with you, and if you ever want to be our guest again, we'd love to have you." "Thank you, ladies," said Nora. "Igor wanted to explore a bit of exhibitionism, but as you can see, he's also concerned about concealing his identity. So we'll talk it over, and if he's interested, we'll contact you." "We'll be wishing hard," said Brianna. "Thanks again. Goodbye everyone." After the cameras shut down, Brianna turned to Nora and said, "I meant what I said, Irina. I don't think you and Igor are from Russia, and I don't think that's Igor's voice, but we respect your privacy. Today was a tremendous payday for us, and I think you'll see that Igor's going to get a bonus, too. If he ever comes back on our show, we're going to promote it for weeks, and he's going to make a lot of money, probably more than double what he's getting today. So think about it, Irina. I'm sure you're a big influence on him, right?" "Thanks," said Nora. "I'd like to get Igor to the dressing room now." She lifted him up and held him tightly as she began walking with him. A large man stepped forward and lifted Dalton up and almost carried his limp body off as Terry and Nora followed. The man brought Dalton to a small dressing room and deposited him in a chair and left. Dalton's head was hanging down and his eyes were closed. "Hello, Dalton," someone whispered in his ear, and his head jerked up. It was Polly. "No talking," said Terry. "Igor, try to stand up now. Someone is going to bring you something in a few moments, and then you are going to leave with your girlfriend, Irina, and her friend here." She looked around and then whispered in his ear, "I'll see you later." Dalton looked at her with frightened eyes, but she didn't say anything else. What was she going to do to him later? "Here you are, Mr. Igor," said a cute girl in jeans who entered the room. She reached out her hand which was holding a thick wad of bills with some rubber bands around it. "You'll see it's $30,000, double what was in your agreement. The producers asked me to tell you that you are the best amateur they've ever filmed and that if you ever want to come back, they are prepared to pay you a lot more than that. Do you have some place to put this?" "I'll put it in my purse for now," said Nora. "We need to get home right away so Igor can get some rest." The girl left, and Nora and Polly got on either side of Dalton and almost dragged him to Polly's car, where he passed out. When they got to their apartment building parking lot, Polly put some smelling salts under his nose until he opened his eyes. "We need to get you to bed, Dalton," she said, "but you have to help us. We've taken off your hood, but we couldn't change your clothes, so you're still naked below the waist. It's the middle of the day, so no one's around, but Nora's checking to make sure. Then we're going to walk with her in front of you and me behind you as quickly as we can to the elevator and then to the apartment. Nora unlocked the door already." No one saw the strange trio as they moved together through the building. When they got to the bedroom, Dalton fell into the bed and passed out. When he awoke, it was dark in the room, but he made out Polly sitting in a chair by the bed. He looked up at her for a moment, and he saw concern on her face. Then he couldn't hold his head up any longer and fell asleep again. The second time he woke up, the sun was out, and Polly wasn't there. He heard voices in the other room. Every inch of his body, inside and out, was hurting, and it hurt more when he made a move, so he just lay there looking at the ceiling. He didn't know how much time passed before he saw Terry's face poking into the room. She walked over to him and yelled out, "He's awake. Bring a couple more chairs in here." He lay there on his back looking up and not saying anything until they rolled him on his side. He screamed from the pain. "I'm sorry," said Polly, "but Nora and Terry have to leave soon, and they insisted we do this now." He was facing the three women in folding chairs next to the bed. He saw Nora reach into her purse. "I want to show you that I'm giving this $30,000 to Polly," she said. "She promised us that you wouldn't get any of it because she knows what you'll spend it on." "I'm quickly going to explain to you what happened, and then Polly insists on talking to you," said Terry. "It's pretty simple. We and her other friends got together and decided to intervene because of what you were doing to Polly. I work for that fetish website, and it was my plan. We drugged your coffee and dressed you in your submissive latex outfit, and then Nora and I managed to get your limp body over to the studios before anyone was there and put you into the restraints before the drug wore off. I forged a fake name onto the agreement and wrote your script for Alicia and Brianna. They have no idea it was 100 per cent true, except for the list of all the abuses you enjoyed. You know the rest." There was silence. Dalton wasn't sure he could talk, and even if he could, he didn't know what to say. He shivered, and he felt Polly stroking his arm gently. "Get away from him, Polly," said Nora. "You know what we agreed on. Sit down over there and tell him." There was silence again. He looked at Polly, and she was crying. "Come on, Polly," said Terry. "We're waiting." "Dalton, I'm sorry, but this is the end," said Polly. "I'm moving out this afternoon. I'll leave the bed here and the little kitchen table and chair, even though they're mine, too. There's plenty of food in the fridge, and you're already looking a lot better, so I'm sure you'll be able to get out of bed and feed yourself, even if you are in a lot of pain. "When my friends made me attend some Al-Anon meetings, I found out that I was not helping you. I was making it worse for you by enabling you. You will never beat alcoholism until you make your own decision, and no amount of nagging or threatening by me will change a thing. You have to get to the point where you realize that you're as low as you want to be before you can make the decision for yourself. "That's why I went along with Terry's idea for the video. It hurt me to watch what was done to you. All my friends were watching it on the Internet and texting congratulations, but I just felt horrible as I watched. I only hope the pain and humiliation got you to the point where you can make your decision. Then it will all have been worth it. "I learned at the meetings that I can't control anything you do. You may have to sink even lower before you make your decision. The rent on the apartment is paid through the end of the month, which is 10 days from now. You need to contact some social services and free legal clinics right away and tell them you have no money, because they have ways of slowing down your eviction for a few months. If you don't do that, you'll probably be on the street in less than a month. "I'm scared for you out there, but I know there's a lot of help for the homeless when they want it. I've been checking, and I met some good people at agencies who will give you shelter and food and counseling, if you seek them out. They told me you need to be careful of others when you sleep, even at a mission, because some of the people in the other bunks will be psychopaths, perverts and sadists, and when they find out you're not like them, they could gang up on you. Sometimes they gang rape men, but the worst ones like to mutilate their victims, so a policeman I talked to said you need to buy some kind of plastic knife that the metal detectors at the institutions can't detect, because a lot of the others have them. My girlfriends reminded me you're bigger and healthier than most of them, and you know how to fight, but I'm still worried about what could happen to you. "I hope you don't have to get that low. Even if you can get a job doing manual labor or fast food, you can stay away from that life and afford a room in a poor neighborhood. You make friends fast, so as soon as you make the decision, I know you'll get lots of help. And once you're on your feet, I know you'll make it all the way back, because when you're sober and set your mind to something, you can overcome anything. I know someday you can get a good job where people appreciate your talents and pay you a lot. "Of course, my optimism is all based on you making a decision you've avoided for nearly two years. My friends aren't as sure as I am that you can beat your demons, and they are trying to prepare me for the worst, like hearing that you died in some alley wearing rags. "I can't help you from now on, because I promised my friends I wouldn't be your enabler anymore. And please don't try to contact me. See these photos that Terry and Nora took of your naked body after they gave you an enema and before they dressed you in your latex outfit? There's also a video of you being dressed. Even though only a little area around your nipples and the area between your belly button and your thighs showed on the program, you have a lot of identifying marks. "See, Terry circled two of them in red on these photos. When you're aroused, your penis has a pattern of veins that's unusual, and you could see it clearly through the transparent sucking machine. And there's an unusual combination of moles right above your right knee. "There are a lot more of them, and Terry says that if you try to contact me, they will put up an "Igor" page with the photos and reveal your real name and where you're living. People from all over the world are already interested in Igor, and Terry's boss thinks your video is going to go viral, so you'll have many more fans. Some of the stranger ones will come looking for you. "They're like paparazzi. They'll stalk you and take your picture. If you grow a beard or change your hairstyle, they'll record it and send photos to all your other fans. You won't be able to escape them, no matter where you move. "But the worst ones aren't the pests. Some of your fans -- especially certain women -- are going to want to do the things on the video to you; and even sicker things. They will offer to pay you well, but if you don't agree, they will try to find ways to achieve their goal through other means. You saw how easy it was for us to make you helpless, so I think that even if you're careful, some of them could... no, I don't want to even say it. "So please, please don't try to find me. You know, I would never do anything to hurt you, but Nora, Terry, Judy and the others have the photos and videos, and they said to tell you they won't think twice about exposing who you are. "I'm keeping the money you earned yesterday, but I'm not spending it. It's going into a fund to earn interest." "I'm looking at you lying there and trying to imagine how hurt and humiliated you must be. If you're not, then you're really not the Dalton I know anymore. So I'll be praying for our intervention to work, and I'm going to have faith that you will dig yourself out. "My friends and the people at Al-Anon told me not to tell you this next part, because they said it wouldn't help you, but I have to. I know my friends will try to stop me any way they can, but you know me when I'm determined, Dalton, and I'm making you a promise right now. In two years, I'm going to find you, no matter how much my friends may try to prevent it. "I hope you're sober and are holding some kind of job and leading a normal life. If you're doing that and you've got a good woman in your life, I'll have a nice cry and leave you alone after I deposit the money from the video shoot and all the interest in your bank account anonymously. If you still haven't made your decision, I'll stay away from you, but maybe I'll check in another two years. "If you're alone and have been sober for more than a year and you're living right, no matter how poor you are or what kind of job you have or where you're living, I'm going to call you up and try to talk to you. You will probably hate me so much for what I did to you that you'll hang up on me. I'll see that you get your money anyway. "But if you agree to see me, and... no, I've already said too much. I see you want to talk, but don't say anything to me. I've promised not to listen to you, and it would just make it more painful for both of us. Goodbye, Dalton." Dalton had raised his head, but she gently pushed it back down and gave him a quick kiss on the lips and rushed from the room. Nora followed her. Terry came to the bed and leaned over him. "That's the last you'll see of her, Dalton, no matter what she fantasizes," Terry said. "Don't even think of trying to contact her if you know what's good for you. "After we persuaded her to take the money you made today, we realized that was a mistake. If you had the money now, you could begin drinking yourself to death right away, and that would be the best protection for Polly. "But we came up with another idea today, which we didn't tell her. See this? I'm leaving you my card in case you want to make a lot of money right away. "My bosses at the website are dying for you to come back. I think you could get them to pay you way more than double for another session. The other things on the list I made for you are much more painful and disgusting than what you did yesterday, and I'd love to watch Alicia and Brianna do them to you next time. "But my bosses were a little nervous about the conversation with you and Nora at the end. They knew that something was fishy, and I think they suspect your release forms are fake, too. If you want the money, you may have to agree to take off your hood next time, at least for a few seconds when you have the chat at the end, so you can smile and show you were a willing participant in what they did to you. Your session would get a huge advance promotion, and they think you might get the largest international audience ever. "You'd still be Igor, but everyone on the world would see your face. It's almost certain that someone would recognize you, and then it could be the same as if we put up an Igor page. The word would travel fast, and soon you'd be getting a lot of unwelcome attention. I think the combination of those scary women coming after you and all the money you'd have should help you drink yourself to death pretty fast. So if that's what you want, call me and I'll fix it up for you. "Judy should be over in a few minutes. She'll get things ready for the movers who will strip the apartment and take everything except what Polly is leaving for you. Judy is still very angry at you, so if I were you, I'd stay in bed and out of her way. Goodbye." Dalton heard her words and felt as if something big and cold was falling on top of him. Through all his pain, he felt the coldness, like a blanket of fog, was smothering him to death. He was choking, and he couldn't breathe. He passed out. The next thing he felt was a horrible new pain. As it woke him, he saw a hand flying at his right cheek and tried to put his hands up to stop it, but he was too slow, and it smacked him with tremendous force again. "You bastard, Dalton," said Judy. "I saw what they did to you, but it wasn't enough. Your face was protected, so they couldn't hurt it like your ass. But I'll take care of that. I wanted to tattoo 'child molester' on your butt so you'd never get near a woman again, but the others said that if Polly ever found out, that would send her back to you. And Terry said that would spoil her plan because her company wouldn't hire you with a tattoo like that. "So I'll have to settle for second best. I'll slap your face until your cheeks are as shredded as your butt is. It's going to take months before the pain goes away, and each time you feel it in your face or your ass, I want you to think of me and my promise that I'm making you right now. If I hear you've tried to call Polly or emailed her or sent a message to her through someone else or tried to reach her in any way, I'm going to find you and do this all over, and then I'll do something even worse, maybe cut off your balls and throw them into the garbage disposal. Do you hear me, Dalton?"