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Freebie Ch. 01

By: Victoriajohn



All of my stories include descriptions of sex scenes that could cause offence to some people. Please do not read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual material, or if you are under the legal age of consent for your own country. These stories are pure fiction and are not based on anyone living or deceased.

"4 3 6 5 8 7"

After giving my number I paused to listen to who was calling.

"Hello, this is Mr Spencer."

"Mr Spencer? Do I know you?"

"I'm assuming I'm speaking to Mrs Kendal?"

"Yes, I'm Mrs Kendal. But I'm afraid I don't know any Mr Spencer."

"Your husband works at D F H distribution? Well I'm his boss."

"Oh yes. I'm sorry, the name never clicked. Oh my god! Has something happened to Gerry?"

"Well in a manner of speaking, yes."

"Oh no. Is he alright?"

"Yes, he hasn't had an accident or anything, but I have to talk to you about him."

"Why what's happened?"

"It's too complicated to talk on the phone, I was just ringing to make sure you'd be in if I called around to see you."

"Well yes, when will you be coming?"

"Right away if that's ok, I can be with you in thirty minutes."

"Ok I'll be waiting."

With that I put the phone down and began to worry. If Gerry hadn't had an accident, then what else could be wrong? Then I thought about Gerry's 'perks of the job'. You see Gerry works in a distribution warehouse, and the products they store vary widely. And if a large pallet of, for instance, washing-up liquid slipped from a forklift whilst being loaded, then the whole pallet would be written-off as damaged, and should then end-up in the waste bins. But obviously, only a few of the bottles would actually be damaged, so it was common practice for the warehouse lads to share out the undamaged boxes, as freebies. This was what Gerry called 'the perks of the job'. Now I know this is not strictly legal, but we never considered it stealing. But as I rushed around tiding-up before his boss arrived, I racked my brain to think what else he could be coming to talk to me about. And why me? Why wouldn't he just be hauling Gerry over the coals?

As I was busy putting things into one of my kitchen cupboards, it struck me just how petty these so called perks of Gerry's were. The top of this cupboard I'd opened was stacked full of bottles of vinegar. I'd given away bottles to various relatives, all of my neighbourhood friends, and even though Gerry is only 24, and I'm only 25, we'd still got enough bottles to last for the rest of our natural lives. That was the trouble with all his freebies, they were of little value, and always came in large quantities. So I'm busy trying to work out what this man will want to talk about, when I hear the knocker on the front door.

"KNOCK KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK. "

The sudden noise makes me jump, and then after a quick look in the mirror, I dash down the hall and open the door.

"Hello. I'm Graham. Mr Spencer. We spoke a few minutes ago on the phone."

"Yes, yes. Err. What is it? What's happened?"

"Well I was hoping we could talk inside."

I backed away from the door, and as I did I ushered him into the hall with my open palmed hand.

"Oh I'm sorry. Come on in. We can sit in the lounge, it's the first door."

He walked past me into our hall, and then turned into the lounge; I followed and entered behind him.

He had made his way across to the sofa, but was stood in front of it as if ready to sit down.

"Yes sit there if you want."

I sat opposite him in the chair nearest the TV. As we both sat down, we both were about to talk at the same time, but we both stopped. Then I said,

"No, you go first."

"Well Mary. Oh, I hope it's alright me using your first name."

I had no idea how he knew my name, but I wasn't about to get on the wrong side of him by objecting.

"No, of course not."

"Ok then. As I was about to say, I've got a bit of a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"Well just recently, I visited my sister; she lives just in the next street to you. Tudor Road."

I nodded but didn't make any comment.

"And she was talking with her neighbour, a Mrs Harris. Thelma; I think is her first name. Maybe you know her?"

Yes. But although I know her, and she's one of my closest friends. Gerry and I often go to the pub with her and her husband Frank. But I didn't want to admit too much to this man.

"I think I know who you mean."

"Well she was telling my sister all about her friend whose husband gets all kind of knocked-off stuff from work. And being as the wastage; that's what we call any goods at work that get damaged or stolen. Yes, being as the wastage levels for this last six months has risen by seventy percent; I was interested in what she was saying. So later when she'd gone, I asked my sister to surreptitiously find out who this Robin Hood character was."

He paused, as if waiting for me to say something, but I kept silent.

"I thought maybe you'd have guessed his name, he lives in this street."

Again He paused, waiting for me, but again I kept silent.

"I see the cats got your tongue."

"Well this so called good Samaritan is called Gerry Kendal. So you see Mary, I thought maybe it would be a good idea to watch your Gerry a little closer. I've got CCTV cameras all around the warehouse, but most weren't working and those that are; nobody ever looks at the hours of stuff they record. But last weekend I had all the cameras brought back into a working condition, and today I spent the day sitting watching your husband as he went about his job. Now what do you think I saw?"

"I I don't know?"

"Do you like yoghurt?"

"Yoghurt?"

"Yes. Strawberry yoghurt."

"Why?"

"Well I've got a premonition that when Gerry gets home you'll be getting a box of 120 Strawberry yoghurts. So I hope you like them."

It was obvious he had got Gerry, as they say, 'bang to rights' or 'caught red handed'. So I thought maybe I could put in some kind of mitigating plea on his behalf.

"But please Mr Spencer. It would all have just been thrown in the waste bins. It can't do any harm us using them up. You know with all this talk of re-cycling and not wasting food, you could even say he's doing his bit to save the planet."

He took a small pen like object from his pocket,

"I assume you have a computer?"

"Yes it's in the other room."

"Do you think we could take a look at this video I've recorded?"

We went into the back room and I turned on the PC. I know it always feels like forever waiting for a PC to boot, but sitting here, with him holding what I now could see was a memory stick; one I assumed with incriminating evidence, it was like my life force was ebbing from my body. Then as the windows screen appeared, he said,

"Do you mind if I take over?"

I didn't answer, I just moved to one side allowing him to sit in front of the PC. 

He plugged in his memory stick and in seconds the video was showing a fork lift driving down an isle in between tall stacks of pallets. He kept moving the slider bar until we got to a place where the fork truck driver turned around, obviously checking in every direction to make sure he wasn't being watched, and then he drove slowly backwards, getting ever closer to a steel girder that protruded from the floor and reached up to support the roof. As the edge of the pallet made contact with the stanchion, he slowly reversed until the pallet was dragged off the forks, and overbalanced. It slipped off as if in slow motion, and as it hit the floor, the boxes stacked on it slipped. Then the other side of the pallet dropped back to the floor, almost shaking the boxes back to their original position.

The driver then jumped down, and with a long steel bar from the back of his truck, he ripped open the banding holding the boxes, and pushed one of the boxes to the floor where it burst open. Then as he went back to the truck and began to fill in some paperwork, Graham said,

"I hardly think damaging a box of yogurts is going to help save the planet."

The video was so clear my Gerry was instantly recognisable, and there was no way anyone looking at this video could call this accidental damage. But I didn't reply, I just stood alongside him at a loss for words.

"Well my dear, nothing to say?"

"I I I'm sorry. I never realised. He just said it was a sin to see the stuff thrown away into the bins."

"Well now you know how it's damaged, what's your opinion now?"

"I I'll tell him as soon as he gets home."

"Tell him what?"

"I don't want him to bring anymore things home. And that it's not right to damage stuff deliberately."

"I think this is a little bit more serious than that. First its malicious damage; and I'm thinking if I check back on the recorded files from the other cameras over the last six months, I'll find a lots more occurrences. Second it's stealing, and not just the one box; I'll bet over the last few months my car park cameras will have caught him loading his car plenty of times. Then there is fraud, filling in the insurance records as accidental damage. Fraud of that sort carries a prison sentence. And lastly, if that pallet had jammed onto the forks, he could have bent the girder; and that would have brought the whole roof down. Now that's a health and safety issue, and these days, they'd lock him up and throw away the key for that."

"Oh my god! But what can I do to help?"

"First, tell me, has your Gerry got a garden shed or workshop?"

"He's got a shed, but he hasn't got any of the stuff he's brought home out there. For one thing it lets in water, and anyway it's only just big enough for the barbeque, lawn mower and his tools."

"I wasn't thinking about where he's stashed his ill gotton gains, I was wondering if that could be where he'd hang the free calendar I give to each of my staff at Christmas?"

"Do you mean the one with views of the Lake district?"

"Well that wasn't the one I was referring to, but now you've mentioned it. What did you think of the pictures?"

"Ok, I guess. But I'm not much into mountains and lakes."

"I was meaning more the camera work. Did it look professional?"

"I guess so, why?"

"I took those photos myself, it's my hobby. But I was actually wondering if you'd seen the other calendar?"

As I realised which calendar he was talking about, I felt my cheeks get hot as I blushed bright red. Not that I had any reason to feel embarrassed, I wasn't one of the scantily clad models displayed in the calendar he was referring to. But before I replied to his question, he said,

"I guess by your response, you've at least seen it?"

"Yes."

"It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"Well from what I can remember, the girls' weren't leaving much to the imagination."

"Do you know where your husband has put his?"

"Yes, it's hanging on the back of the door in his hobby room upstairs."

"So I can take it from your reaction that you didn't think much of my camera work? I thought I'd struck the right balance; keeping it sexy, but not being too crude."

So from this I gathered this was another example of his handiwork, and not wanting to get on his wrong side, I didn't want to criticize what he actually seemed quite proud off.

"I didn't mean it was crude, but looking at girls is even less appealing to me than mountains and lakes."

"But I guess you're wondering what my obsession with photography has got to do with the predicament your Gerry has got himself into?"

In truth, I was beginning to think that he was maybe going to try to blackmail me into posing in skimpy underwear, like the models in his calendar, but not wanting to put unwanted ideas into his head, I just answered,

"Well yes, I was looking for some kind of connection between his foolishness, and your generosity in giving out free calendars."

"Well it's like this; I've got an idea for next year's workshop calendar. That's what I call the girlie version, cos it normally gets hung up in garages or workshops. I was thinking of a masquerade. You know, the girls faces concealed behind those masks on sticks like at the high class balls."

I didn't comment, but just nodded to show I understood what he was talking about.

"And then last week I saw your Gerry showing his holiday snaps to one of the lads, and the chap he was showing them to, passed them to me. Not that I was too interested in most of them. But there were about three of four with you in a bikini. And I have to say they got me to thinking."

Again I said nothing, but by now his intentions were getting pretty obvious.

There was a silence for a few seconds, and then he asked,

"Well, what do you think?"

But still trying to play the innocent I answered,

"About what?"

"Well I thought you'd be a bit brighter than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Ok, it's your loss. If you think I'm going to make a proposal you can take to the police, then you must take me for a fool. I've given you a lifeline, and if you're too dumb to take hold, then you'll just have to suffer the consequences. I'll wish you goodbye."

With that he got to his feet, and I realised if I let him leave with things as they stand, my Gerry could soon be in real trouble.

"Please Mr Spencer, don't go. I I didn't mean to annoy you."

He didn't re-seat himself, but just stood there and said,

"Well?"

"I I I'm not sure what you are asking?"

"Young lady. Can't you understand? I'm not asking anything. It's your husband who is in trouble. And I've told you about my hobby, and about a calendar I'm about to start shooting for next year. Maybe I didn't make myself clear, but when I said seeing your photos gave me an idea, what I meant, was you have a body every bit as good as any of the models I'm about to hire. Now if you felt like making me some kind of offer, then I think you'll find I'm not an unreasonable man. Even though your husband has been swindling me."

"Are you saying if I was to agree to model for you, you wouldn't report my Gerry to the police?"

"I haven't asked you to model for me, so it's not a case of you agreeing to anything. If I did ask, that would be bribery. But if you want to offer to model, then that's your prerogative. And as I've said, I'm a reasonable man, and the last thing I'd want to see is a generous young lady being dragged down by a foolish mistake made by her husband."

I thought for a minute or so, but I could see he was getting restless, and I sensed he was about to speak. Fearing he was again going to threaten to leave, I said,

"I'll model for you on condition its just swimwear. I won't do topless or underwear."

"Right my dear, what are you saying, you'd like me to consider you for a modelling job in my next calendar?"

"I I guess so. But like I said; nothing as revealing as that other calendar."

"I don't know what you take me for. But I can assure you, all the girls who model for me are free to accept or reject any of the costumes I select. Or for that matter, if they don't feel comfortable with any pose I ask for, then it's always the model who has the final say."

"I I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply there was anything dirty going on. But I just don't want you to think I'm agreeing to pose nude or anything."

"Let's forget this topic, if you want to pose for me, then there will be nobody forcing you to do anything you're not happy with. Now to the details, have you anything planned for tomorrow?"

"I don't think so."

"I need a yes or no. If I'm going to arrange a makeover team, then it can't be just a 'don't think so'."

"Well no, I have nothing planned at the moment."

"Well you do now. There'll be a car here at nine in the morning, and you'll be at my place by nine-thirty. The makeup team should have you sorted by eleven-thirty, and by twelve we can start shooting. That'll give me a good three hours. And you can be back here by four, ready to make hubbies tea. So is that settled?"

"I guess so. But what am I going to tell Gerry?"

"Nothing. Just let him go off to work as normal, and he'll never know a thing about it."

"But what about him? What if he does the same thing again, and damages any more stuff?"

"I don't think he will; I've told the warehouse supervisor to give all the lads a talking to, and let them know all the cameras are now back in action. I can't think he'll be silly enough to do it again."

So with that he went on his way, and I began to wonder just what kind of situation I'd got myself into.

Gerry arrived home from work as normal, and as Graham had predicted, he had a box of Strawberry yoghurts. I was bursting to say something to him about this stupid habit, but knew it would only make the whole thing more complicated, and wouldn't really solve anything. So the night passed without incident, and the next day after Gerry had gone off to work, I began to get myself ready for the car that was to collect me. If I tell you I was on edge and having second thoughts, then I'm sure you won't be surprised.

But at the stroke of nine a car arrived, and in I got. In less than thirty minutes I was being shown into a magnificent studio in the back of a very large country house. This was the kind of house you'd expect a Lord of the Manor to own, built inside a walled estate, with its own big iron gates at the end of the long drive. But once inside the studio, I was shown into a room which was obviously designed for the purpose; equipped with everything the team of three beauticians required. For the next two hours all three of them worked on every inch of my body, and when I emerged at around eleven-thirty, even I had difficulty believing the stunning girl in the mirror was actually me.

It was then that Graham appeared, and he escorted me into a changing room, where there were at least five racks of clothes. Ranging from full ball gowns, to jeans. With every other kind of garment with the exception of outdoor gear such as coats etc. I at this point only had on a dressing gown, and was completely naked underneath. He showed me along the racks explaining all of these clothes had been selected especially for me, and they should all be my size. Where there was a dress, along with it I would find the appropriate underwear that I was expected to wear. I would be expected to start at the first rack, and work my way along from one outfit to the next. But as we moved on to the final rack, the clothes had progressed onto first swimwear, and then from about half way along the rack I could see there were panties and bras, but no dresses, or skirts and blouses to go with them.

I stopped and said,

"You won't be expecting me to model these without wearing a dress on?"

"Not if you don't want to. But let's just start with the others, and if you still feel uneasy about modelling in underwear, then nobodies going to force you."

"Ok. But I don't understand, I thought you only wanted me to model swimwear, and that my face would be covered. I can't model any of this stuff if you're going to put it in a calendar, I can't have my face recognised."

"Today is nothing to do with the calendar, this is just to get you used to being in the bright lights, and letting you get acclimatised to the whole situation. When I shoot the calendar shots, I want you to feel totally at ease."

"What so I've got to come back again?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"I guess not."

"Ok, I'll be out on the set; I'll send one of the girls in to help you dress. Then when you're ready, just come on out."

The day went by with me in some kind of daze, and far from being sordid or sleazy, I felt like I was some kind of super-model. I was pampered and preened in between every change of clothes. And no matter how revealingly cut the outfit, I felt completely at my ease showing off my assets in any pose requested. And by the time the outfits progressed onto the swimwear, I was already so at ease with showing my underwear via splits in skirts and plunges in blouses, that the first of the one piece costumes actually felt quite unexciting. Gradually as we moved to the bikinis and thongs, I got a little more self-conscious, but I still posed in whatever was the requested position. Surprisingly, when all the swimwear was done, and all that was left were bra and panty combinations, the point I'd been dreading, I found the first of these to be so stunning, and relatively speaking modest, that I actually re-appeared on set with a feeling of elation and excitement.


Freebie Ch. 01



It is difficult for me to now explain, but the whole experience of a professional set with bright lights, dresser to assist and preen, and a photographer with such a reassuring manner; they all worked together to melt my apprehension, and replace it with an inner glow of confidence. So strong was this self-belief, as the underwear got scantier, and even when I was expected to model the last few outfits which were just skimpy thongs, meaning I would be topless; I still walked out on set. Even if I did need a small silk shawl around my shoulder the first time I walked out with naked breasts. But once on set and the shooting re-started, I again just proudly displayed my body. And continued to do so with all the remaining thongs.

I left his house feeling so proud of myself, not only for overcoming my shyness to protect my husband, but I also a felt I'd displayed, if only to Graham, that I had a body as good as his professional models. Again that evening, as Gerry came home I wanted to tell him all about my day, but knowing my Gerry, this was obviously not something he'd understand, even if I had been drawn into it by his stupidity. One thing was noticeable though, was Gerry didn't bring any freebies home, but I never ventured to ask, and he didn't mention anything about the talk Graham had said his foreman had been going to deliver.

The next morning, I wasn't expecting to go back to Graham's studio, but he had said if he got time he might try to call round to show me some of the results of the days shooting, but no time was mentioned. I went shopping around nine, and when I arrived home around ten-thirty, Graham's car was parked in the street out side our house. As I got closer, I could see it wasn't just Graham inside, but it looked like he had another man with him. As I approached my front gate, they began to get out of the car, and the man from the passenger seat, who was a total stranger to me; took the bags of shopping from my hands, and followed me towards my front door.

Once I'd opened the door, I just ushered them both inside, and after the stranger had put my bags down in the kitchen, we all made our way into the front living room, and sat down. The stranger sat in the arm chair by the fireplace, and Graham sat on the sofa. As he did so, he patted the empty space on the sofa to one side of him, saying,

"Come on, room for a little one."

I turned and backed myself down, and as soon as I was seated, he moved up close alongside me, making contact leg against leg. Graham opened a folder on his knee and began to produce photos, placing them on my lap.

I know this sounds so boastful, but I'm telling you my honest feelings. And as I saw these pictures, my heart began to swell with pride. It was only the fact I know I was there, that made it believable that I was the model. I looked stunning. Yes I know the clothes give the first impression, but the way they made-up my hair and every other part of my body, I just looked so elegant. Gradually the photo's moved on to the clothes with revealing splits or ones cut to deliberately show off my underwear. Even with these total strangers looking at photos showing so much of my body, I still felt a sense of pride. Then as they began to look at the underwear shots, and the almost naked thongs, I did feel my face beginning to burn.

But as the remarks they were making were all complimentary, I soon began to feel that even these were worthy of maybe a little pride. When Graham had shown the last of his selection, he asked,

"Well. It wasn't so bad was it?"

I didn't need to think of my reply, I instantly answered,

"It was like a dream. I'd never have believed I could do it. And your make-up girls made me look so good; I could hardly believe it was me."

"So no regrets?"

"Oh no. But you have to promise me nobody will ever see any of those photos, especially the ones in the underwear."

"Nobody? But we've both seen them."

"Well yes. But I mean they won't be on a calendar, or in any kind of book. If my Gerry ever knew I'd done anything like that, he'd kill me."

"I guess you could say that is one of the reasons I've brought Peter around with me."

"What is?"

"Well the calendar idea, I'm not too sure about that now. But seeing how you look in the underwear, it brought another idea to mind. I have a couple of friends who own a lingerie company, and Peter here is their marketing man. They sell most of their lines through home parties. I'm sure you know the kind of thing?"

I nodded.

"They are normally run by women for women. But we were thinking that being as Christmas is on its way. There is a vast market out there for men who want to buy sexy lingerie for their lady friends', but time or shyness prevents them from going into normal shops. They aren't invited to parties run by women. But if we were to host parties for selected business men, and display the wear on a delectable model, I'm sure we'd make a killing."

They were both looking intently at me, but the thought of what he was proposing didn't appeal at all.

"What do you think, we could say maybe ten parties would be pay back for all the thieving your husband has done?"

"I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"I couldn't model that kind of revealing stuff in front of a group of strange men."

"But you modelled for me yesterday."

"That was different."

"Well that does disappoint me."

"I'll do your calendar."

"I told you, I've gone off that idea."

"I'll do it wearing just that little micro thong from yesterday, without wearing a top. So long as my face is covered, that is."

"No. The calendar idea is dead now. What about if you let both of us fuck you right now?"

My head almost exploded! I instantly went red with embarrassment, and a fear ripped into my tummy as I realised just how unsafe I was sitting here with two men I hardly knew. I began to try to get to my feet, I felt sick with fear.

He reached his hand onto my shoulder and as he eased me back to the sofa,

"Hey, what's wrong? I was only joking you. Come on, we wouldn't force you to do anything like that."

I looked at him, still trembling with fear,

"Please don't say things like that. I I thought you meant it."

"Don't be silly. I didn't do anything yesterday. Did I?"

"No."

"Tell you what, you enjoyed posing for me. Didn't you?"

"Yes."

He put his hand in his pocket and pulled from it the skimpy thong I'd just referred to, the one I'd modelled yesterday. He took hold of my hand and placed the thong into it, folding my fingers closed. The thong was so minute, even in my tiny hand the thong was almost invisible. I shook visibly as I heard him tell me,

"You go out there and slip this on, and then come back and let Peter see what you look like."

"Please don't."

"Don't what?"

"I I can't. You know I can't."

"I think you can. You wouldn't want your Gerry to see any of these pictures. Now would you? Come on, I saw you in it yesterday; so letting Peter see you in it should be no big deal. After all, you've just offered to model this for a calendar that would be ogled by thousands of men."

"If I do this, does this payoff Gerry's debt?"

"You are joking."

"So what's in it for me?"

"I just told you. I won't show Gerry these pictures, or anybody else for that matter. Come to think of it; I bet your mom and dad, or their neighbours might be interested in seeing them."

The knot of fear again gripped my tummy, as the thought of my parents, or worse still their neighbours seeing me in those poses.

"Please, I beg you."

"Well I'm not asking much. Peter here has driven a long way, on my say so, just to see you. And now you're acting like a schoolgirl. Just be a good girl and go put that on. If you feel uneasy posing downstairs where people might be able to see into your windows, just give us a call when you're ready, and we'll come up to your bedroom. That way you won't need to draw the curtains; nobody can see into your room up there."

It was obvious I had to comply with his wishes, so I got to my feet and made my way up to my bedroom where after locking the door I undressed, and put the skimpy little thong in place. I say in place, because you could hardly call it wearing it. It was just a narrow triangular strip of thin silky material about four centimetres at the widest part, tapering to nothing at the narrow end over a length of no more than five centimetres; held in place at the front of my crotch with a narrow ribbon. Yesterday, the dresser helped me, and I'd stood there open legged while she made sure it was strategically placed to cover the necessary area. But now using a mirror, I could see that no matter where I positioned it, it only served to cover the centre of my vagina, leaving the outer lips bulging from either side.

It was obvious yesterday when I saw the thing hanging on the rack, that I would be exposing myself. But, I'd just gone with the flow of the whole event. And even today, looking at the results of yesterdays shoot, as I mentioned earlier; their complimentary remarks made me feel proud, if somewhat nervous about my revelation. But now; knowing once I call them up, there wouldn't be any camera or impersonal posing. It would be me posing for two men to look and mentally devour every centimetre of my flesh. But as the alternative was for my Gerry to see the pictures from yesterday, I knew I had no choice.

I walked to my bedroom door, pulled back the little bolt and as I opened it and went to step out onto my landing to call down the stairs to Graham and Peter, I almost jumped out of my skin. They were both standing there just outside my door. Before I'd even regained my composure, they were moving towards me, and I was backing into my room. By the time I was alongside my bed, Graham had reached behind me, and as I felt his hand touching my bottom I stopped. Then as I stopped, he brought his other hand up to cup my naked breast.

"Come on mate, you take the other one."

I tried to make a protest,

"Please don't do that."

But they took absolutely no notice, and in seconds, Peter had taken up Graham's invitation, and he was at my other side, with his hand cupping my other breast.

"Please no. I only agreed to model the costume. Please no touching."

"Don't be silly. Anybody would think you were a twelve year old behind the bike sheds. Just relax; we're only having a bit of fun."

I reluctantly just stood there, with them both fondling a breast apiece, when Peter said,

"Jesus Graham, I'm getting a stiffy."

"You're not the only one. And by the feel of this nipple, we're not the only ones getting turned on. I bet her snatch is getting moist as well."

"Please stop now; I've let you have a feel. If he wants to see the costume, let me just model it for him, and then I'll get myself dressed again."

"What say you Pete, do you want to check out the goods?"

"I'd rather she took care of this cock of mine."

"You heard him. How about a quick blow job before you show-off your goodies?"

"No. I'm not doing anything like that. I didn't even want to let you touch me, but I've gone that far, and I'm going no further."

"You won't fuck, and now you're telling me you won't even blow us. I don't think you understand just how serious a mess your Gerry has got himself into."

"I know all about that, but I'm not turning myself into a prostitute."

"Ok. It's obvious you're a nice girl who doesn't go in for this kind of thing everyday, but a blow job is nothing."

"I couldn't. If I put my mouth on your thing, I could never kiss my Gerry again, it just wouldn't be right."

"Well one way or another, you'll have to relieve both of our dicks, or your Gerry is going to be experiencing prison food."

"Please don't say that."

All of this time they'd both been continuing their manipulation of my breasts, and Peter had also moved his other hand down behind me, and was stroking down over my bottom and gradually each stroke had been making its way deeper under my crotch. Just at that moment, his finger tip had reached the entrance to my pussy, and I squirmed my hips forwards in an attempt to prise him away. But Graham's hand was stroking my pubic bulge from the front, and all I succeeded in doing was to remove Peter's finger, and replace it with Graham's. 

"Come on, you can't pretend you're not getting excited by the thought of it. I can feel how wet your snatch is."

"Please, let me get dressed now."

"Ok. You heard her Pete."

As Graham spoke he let go of me and stepped back one pace. Then as Peter looked and saw what he had done, he slowly and somewhat begrudgingly copied Graham.

"So is that your last word? You want me to take this video stuff to the police station?"

"No, you know I don't."

"Ok my last offer. Take our dicks out, get back on the bed, and you can wank us while we play with your snatch."

I couldn't see Gerry go to prison, and if rubbing their cocks was the price; then I decided I'd have to pay. But I knew if I allowed them free access to my pussy, I would be susceptible to my own desires, and the whole thing could end up with a major fucking session.

"I'll wank both of you, and you can have me on my back on the bed, and fondle the top half of my body, but no touching down there."

"No can do. I said that was my final offer. So unless you're going to play ball, I guess you'd better be prepared to loose your husband for a few years."

Then Peter interrupted,

"Hang on Graham. She's agreed to wank us, so let's just give her a break."

"Well if you're happy with that. I just thought you wanted to get inside her snatch?"

"Obviously I still do. But after all, she's a married woman; and she has agreed to work off this errection."

"Ok Mary, looks like Pete here has taken pity on you. So first of all you get our pants off, then we'll have you on the bed."

I looked across to Peter, and said, a quiet,

"Thank you."

And then I began to loosen Graham's belt. As I did, he removed his tie; both of them must have removed their jackets down stairs. As I started to lower his trousers, he was taking off his shirt, and so was Peter. So once I'd removed Graham's trousers, he stood there naked, apart from his socks. Then I turned and began to undo and lower Peter's trousers to the floor.

Now we were all as good as naked. That is they were both still wearing socks. And me with only a slip of material about the size of an iPod that was called a thong. At this point I backed myself up to the bed and was about to lift myself back onto it. But Graham took hold of my shoulder and as he turned me around,

"No my dear, we want you up on your hands and knees."

Although I'd agreed to lie on my back, it didn't seen to make much difference which way up I was, so up I climbed, and they each climbed up one either side. As I was on my hands and knees, I couldn't see how I was expected to be able to wank their dicks. I sat myself back onto my own legs, so I was now in a kneeling position.

A hand pressed into the middle of my back, as Graham's said,

"No my dear, I want you back down there, I want to be able to see your snatch as it gets all excited."

I didn't resist his pressure, but now back with hands supporting my weight, I asked,

"How am I supposed to wank you?"

"Patience my dear. We'll let you get to play with our cocks soon enough."

With that they each resumed their breast fondling, and the arousal they had started while playing with me whilst we were standing by the bed, was instantly re-kindled. Graham moved himself around towards my head, reaching under me to hold and fondle one breast, but he was also knelt down low, and he brought his face up to mine, and started to kiss my cheek. He slowly moved around placing kisses from one ear across to the other, and covering all parts of my face in between. I resisted the kisses as he approached my lips, but as he was also using his open palm to caress and stroke my hair and neck, after a few minutes of this tender handling I could taste his tongue as my mouth began to accept his eager lips. Once my resistance had been thwarted, my pent-up passion just exploded, and our tongues danced in each others juices.

I'm not exactly sure at what point I became aware of Peter's hands stroking the inside of my legs. But as Graham fuelled my arousal with his tongue, the effects became obvious as my hips began a spontaneous humping motion. I was aware of my action, but appeared either unwilling or unable to stop myself. I know that this was the point at which my movements trapped the intruding hand as it tried to gain access to my crotch area. And I guess it was my state of arousal, which gave Peter the confidence to take his part of my stimulation to the next level.

I hadn't noticed his hand was no longer working my breast, but I did feel the pressure as he used both of his hands, gripping my legs tightly just below the knees, as he spread my legs open wide. Whilst his hands still restrained my legs I felt what was instantly recognisable as his tongue as he lapped the exposed lips of my pussy, first one side then the other. My first deliberate action was to try to pull my mouth from Graham's. But he was far too strong, and my attempt was futile. But worse was my involuntary reaction to his licking. I felt my tummy clench, and as it drew in, it pushed my whole genital area, bulging it into Peter's face.

This he took as an endorsement of his method, and he released my legs, giving him a free hand to pull the meagre thong clear. Then he began to devour my clit; sucking, rolling it around, and even a light nipping and tugging. Once he'd homed in on the approach that gave the best response, he relentlessly worked back and forth between rolling my bulging button, and then curling his own tongue which he then pushed as deep up inside me as he could. Then it would withdraw, unfurling as it slowly slipped out; to return to my eager clitoris. This onslaught of stimulation took me to heights of arousal the like of which I'd never experienced.

And then as Peter's tongue slipped from my hole but didn't arrive at my waiting clit, I felt his hands taking hold of my waist. It was at this point as I waited for the inevitable; that I realised somewhere in this journey of discovery, Graham's cock had replaced his tongue, and he was now gripping both of my breasts as he thrust his cock hard at my throat. Then I felt it. Peter's cock! As it touched my hole, my tummy again clenched, and this drove my hips back. My hole opened as his cock plunged in to the depth of my reflex thrust, but just this first few inches stretched my hole open wider than it had ever known. I tried to let out a cry, but the cock in my mouth just pushed deeper and began to enter my wind-pipe. 

Then his hands released my hips and I felt him take hold of a handful of my hair. He just tugged gently, and at the same time gave a steady push. I could feel it slowly swelling my tummy as it entered uncharted territory, making its own path as it drove deeper and deeper inside me; not unlike the relentless advance of a gang of bodyguards, as they escort a celebrity through a dense crowd of photographers. Eventually I could feel his groin as it made contact with my bottom, and at that point I knew I taken his full length. From then on the whole event just took on a new dimension, I knew both of them were pumping, one at each end of my body, but that very same body of mine was experiencing sensations at such a level and frequency, I just lost all conscious control.

I had several of what up until this point in my life I'd called orgasms, but all the time there was something else I couldn't explain building inside my tummy. Something I'd never before experienced. They both fucked for what seemed an hour, but I guess in reality couldn't have been more than quarter of that time. And then Peter pulled hard on my hair, almost lifting my head off Graham's cock, and at the same time, his strokes which up until now had been long steady thrusting, became erratic. Then as he thrust what I could feel was his first load of cum, he ripped my hair backwards violently.




Freebie Ch. 01



"Oh fucking yes!"

Again he thrust, and again he tugged at my hair.

"Fucking hell yes!"

His first violent tug had pulled me off Graham's cock, and now in front of me, he was wanking his cum shots directly into my face and hair. But did any of this worry me? No fucking way! For as my pussy had sensed Peter's first load of cum, it had exploded with a kind of convulsion. It was alternately dilating and contracting. With each dilation it was spraying out love juices. From what I can remember Peter gave a good ten or more plunges depositing his cum, before he slipped from my pussy. But as they both finished there relief and lowered me back to the bed on my side; I carried on writhing and pumping cum (mine and some of Peter's) for at least a minute after they'd both finished. (You might be wondering; if I was so far out of my head, how on earth could I know or remember so much about who did what, and where and when. Well, I've written my feelings and the parts I could remember; but how I came to know the rest, you will find out soon.) 

When I returned to normality, I could hear the shower running, and I was lying in the most disgusting mess on my bed. Neither of them were in my room, but then I heard their voices coming from the bathroom, where I supposed they must both be taking a shower. I got to my feet dragging the sheet from the bed with me. But the sheet I'd been lying on was so disgusting, I bundled it into a heap and dropped it on the floor. Then using the sheet from the mattress, I wrapped it around myself and made my way to the door where I again slipped the bolt into place, locking them out. I returned to the bed and began to wipe myself down as best I could using the sheet.

After about five or ten minutes, I heard the shower stop, and a few minutes later I heard their voices out on the landing, as they made their way to my door. The handle on the door rattled as they attempted to open the door.

"Mary. Are you alright? Have you locked the door?"

"Yes. I'm not coming out until you've gone."

"But our clothes are in there."

I hadn't thought about that.

"Well go down the stairs, and call back up. When I know you're out of reach of the door I'll throw them down to you."

"You're being silly. Come on open the door."

"No. I don't trust you."

"Don't be silly. We've had what we wanted; all we want now is our clothes."

"Well go to the bottom of the stairs, and then I'll throw them to you."

I then heard Graham say to Peter,

"Come on mate, it sounds like she's gone all shy again."

Then he said in a louder voice,

"We're going down now."

A few seconds later the voice sounded like it was coming from downstairs,

"Ok. We're in the hall. You can throw them down."

I slowly slid the bolt back, and opened the door, a quick peek told me they weren't on the landing, so I dashed to the banister rail and threw their clothes down the stairs, and then returned to my room locking the door. I waited until I could hear their voices coming from the room below me, and then I made my way to the bathroom and had a soothing shower. But the warm water didn't just clean and refresh me, as the warmth engulfed my naked body; from deep inside my tummy I felt a glow. This was unlike anything I'd ever known, and as I stood there my body began to tremble. The feeling built, until I had another orgasm. This was not as overwhelming as the gusher I'd just experienced, but it was far and away stronger than any other so called orgasm I'd had previously, and it did result in me sinking to my knees in the shower.

I'd intended to shower without wetting my hair, but as it was, I now looked like a bedraggled rat as I limply stepped from the shower. After a quick attempt at removing the bulk of the water from my hair, I wrapped my head with a towel. Slipped on a towel robe and after a quick dry down I slowly made my way downstairs. When I got to the living room door I called in,

"I'm coming in, but if either of you attempt to get anywhere near me I'll scream the house down."

"Stop acting like a drama queen. Just get your pretty little snatch in here, and take a look at this."

As I walked gingerly into the room they were both on the sofa looking at a porn video on the TV.

"I don't think you two will be so cocky if I phone the police?"

Graham froze the screen and looked at me,

"Police? Why on earth would you do that?"

"Rape! Don't think you can do something like that and get away with it. What my Gerry has done doesn't even come close to your crime."

He gave a stifled laugh,

"Ha Ha."

"What ever makes you think we'd want to rape you?"

"Think! I don't need to think. You pair of bastards have just done it."

"Oh you mean your little fucking session up stairs. But that wasn't rape. That was what we were watching when you came in. I videoed it, it makes good viewing. In fact,"

And at this point he snatched out and grabbed a handful of the towel robe I was wearing, and as he pulled, the loosely tied belt slipped off, allowing the rope to pull wide open.

"It's given me an appetite for a piece of that snatch on my dick."

I leapt sideways to get out of his reach, and only succeeded in ripping the robe exposing myself completely.

"You bastard! Get off me!"

Peter then spoke, in a somewhat calmer voice than Graham's,

"Come on Graham. Enough is enough. Let her cover herself up."

Graham loosed his hold, and I attempted to wrap the torn towelling as best I could to cover myself. Peter got to his feet and began to walk towards me. I backed away, and I guess the look on my face told him I wasn't happy being backed into the corner of the room. He held his hands up open palmed,

"Calm down. I'm not going to touch you. Tell you what, how about you sit there and I'll go and make us all a nice cup of tea."

By now I was almost in tears, and I half spoke and half sobbed,

"Tea! You don't think making me a cup of tea will get you out of this. You're the one who'll go down for rape!"

"I can tell you're fraught, but maybe when you have time to relax you might see things differently. I'll make that cup of tea anyway. Do you want one Graham?"

"I guess so if you're doing the honours."

He left the room, and Graham said,

"I'll start this from the beginning; Peter has already seen the start, so he won't be missing anything."

"No need to on my account. I don't want to watch your dirty movies."

"I think you should. If you have some silly idea about being raped, I think maybe you should see the real evidence. This is video footage as it happened."

The video began at the point where I'd just resigned myself to the prospect of having to wank both of them. All the conversation and my protesting up to that point hadn't been recorded. So the first thing I see is Graham and Peter stood with their backs to the camera and me in front of them. To be more accurate, it could have been any two men stood there; but I knew it was them. I could then be seen to be doing something to Graham, and as his pants began to drop, it was obvious; I'd been loosening his belt, and was then removing his trousers and pants. At the same time both of them could be seen removing their shirts and ties. In short, it was a recording of the episode I've just related, taken from some point behind where they had been standing; my dressing table would be my guess. (So now you know how I managed to fill in; who did what, and where and when; while I was so far out of my head.)

As I sat there watching, without diverting his gaze from the screen, Graham said,

"The camera work isn't what you'd call professional, but being as I only had seconds to plonk it down on your dresser, I guess I couldn't expect much better. But even without the close-ups, and the fact we're not always fully in frame, the audio seems to have captured every sigh and whisper. And so far, I haven't heard you say no, or cry out for help."

Then he turned his head and asked sarcastically,

"Are you sure it was in this session that you got raped?"

Before I could answer, Peter arrived with a tray with our cups of tea. He passed one to me,

"Do you take sugar? Or are you sweet enough already?"

I guess the five or so minutes he'd been out of the room had given me time to reflect, and the hostility I had been feeling had subsided slightly. Instead of giving him a curt reply, I managed a slight smile as I replied,

"No thank you."

He then gave Graham a cup, and sat himself back down next to him.

Graham again tried to goad me,

"I was just asking her if this was the fucking session where she thinks she got raped."

I could see this kind of remark didn't sit easy with Peter, and he gave Graham a black look as he said,

"Ok Graham, I'm sure she isn't going to pursue that route. There's no point in rubbing it in."

I was sipping on my tea, and by now on the screen, we'd arrived at the point where Graham pulled his tongue from my mouth, and manoeuvred himself into position in front of me. As he brought his cock up to my mouth, I could hardly believe my eyes. I could be seen lifting my head, and opening my mouth, not just allowing him access, but you could almost say, encouraging him.

It was obvious to me, and would be to anyone who watched this video, that there was no way I could claim he abused me forcefully. I sat there completely numb, as Peter could be seen to lift his head from my crotch, and he positioned himself to give me a doggy fucking. Yes his hands were on my waist, but I didn't fight or attempt to struggle. And yes Graham was pulling at my breasts, but again, this wasn't, or didn't look like an attempt to restrain me. So as Peter was seen to push himself up towards my bottom, and he grabbed a handful of my hair, it looked like I was a willing participant.

When it got to the end, and I saw myself writhing around long after both of them had dismounted, I turned bright red, and unknowingly lifted my hands to cover my face. I sat their mentally squirming in my seat so ashamed of my disgusting performance. But as soon as Graham turned the video off, Peter said,

"Well my dear, I can honestly say, I've never had a girl fuck as good as that before. You have a real talent."

I didn't reply, and indeed, I think I actually blushed even redder. But Graham again brought up my accusation of rape,

"Come-on then Mary. Are you still considering reporting us to the police?"

I didn't speak, but with my head hung low, I just shook it from side to side.

It was as I sat there sulking, knowing I had no bargaining point to free myself from this state of affairs I'd been drawn into, that I suddenly realised something. I lifted my head, and said to Graham,

"So I won't have to do any of those underwear parties now."

He gave me a curious look, and then turned to look at Peter. As if to ask if Peter knew what I was talking about. Peter just shrugged his shoulders, and Graham turned back to look at me and asked,

"And what makes you think you've got out of paying me back for your stupid husband?"

"You gave me the option earlier, if I didn't want to do the parties, I could..."

I paused, and then as I felt I was now in a position to be bold, I continued,

"You said if I didn't want to do the parties, I could fuck you both. Well if that wasn't rape, then I've done what you asked. So now Gerry's debt is paid in full."

Peter looked at Graham and said,

"She has a point."

Graham didn't look pleased at Peter siding with me, but after a few seconds silence he came back with,

"Ok little miss clever clogs. But when I watched that video, I only saw one of us fucking you. If you want to take up that offer, then I want to see you on your hands and knees on the floor now, robe off, and ready to fuck. And then once I've spunked up inside your snatch; then I'll call it debt paid."

I knew he'd again got the better of me. I'll bet as you read this you're thinking, 'you've already fucked one, what does one more matter'? But I'd never have let Peter go that far knowingly. And now 'in cold blood' so to speak, there was no way I could get down and let him take me. But a kind of determination, or if you will, pig headedness came over me.

"I don't care what you say or do. I'm not modelling that stuff, and neither of you are going to get anywhere near me again."

Graham looked more than a little annoyed, and he sprang to his feet and stomped across the room towards me. As he got within reaching distance he took hold of the ripped towelling robe, and started to pull it from me, ripping it further.

"SHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!!!!"

I let out the longest and loudest scream I could muster, and even though Graham tried to subdue it with his hand I kept up the noise. He stepped back and brought an open palmed hand across my face,

"SLAP!"

It stung like hell, but in less than a second, as I overcame the initial shock I resumed my scream. I saw his hand rise again, and mentally prepared myself for the pain. But it never came, Peter had now sprung to his feet, and he grappled with Graham restraining his hands.

"Enough of that. I agreed to the sex stuff because I thought she was gonna be easy. But I'm not gonna be a party to any rough stuff. At this point Graham grabbed the remote, ejected the video, and stomped off out of the room. As he went through the door he said,

"You haven't heard the last of this."

Peter took hold of my hands, and then as he gently stroked my face he said,

"I'm sorry about all that. And as for what happened upstairs, I meant what I said, you were the best. And if you do ever want a job modelling, just get in contact, and I'll find you work instantly. And I don't mean as a prostitute. Bye love, and take care."

And then they were gone. I sat there for a good hour just crying, I'm not sure why. Was it because Graham might still cause trouble for Gerry? Or because I'd been raped? Or because in reality it hadn't actually been rape, but I had actually let them fuck me? I don't know myself, but when I eventually stopped crying, I realised it wouldn't be long before Gerry would be home from work. I dashed upstairs and did whatever was necessary in our room to remove all signs of what had taken place, and I'd just walked into the kitchen to start on the evening meal when I heard a key in the front door.

It had to be Gerry, he was the only one besides me with a key, but it was a good half an hour before he was due home. Then I heard his voice,

"Hi honey, it's me."

As I walked from the kitchen I said,

"You're early."

And then I saw Graham walking down the hall directly behind Gerry.

"Err Mary, can you come and sit down a minute; I've got a bit of bad news."

My mind was racing, Gerry's reaction wasn't what I might have expected if he'd seen the photos Graham had taken of me, or for that matter the video. So what was it? I didn't have long to wait to find out, as I sat down in the chair, Gerry sat on the sofa with Graham; Graham sitting in the same position he'd been in just a few hours earlier.

"I've been caught out by the CCTV cameras at work."

I knew I had to play innocent, so I asked,

"Caught, doing what?"

"Well it's the stuff I bring home; they've got evidence of me deliberately damaging pallets so that I can scrap them off. And if they take the evidence to the police, I could go to prison."

"So what happens now, have you been with the police?"

"No they haven't reported it yet."

"I don't understand."

"Look Mary, you know I love you. Don't you?"

He looked so embarrassed saying this, especially in front of his boss.

"Yes. Of course I do."

"I don't really want to ask you this. But it's the only way I can save my job, and not end up in prison."

I obviously knew what Graham was playing at, but I couldn't tell Gerry what had already taken place. And even if I did, it wouldn't help. So I just answered as I thought he'd expect me to,

"Ask me what?"

He passed over a catalogue, the company name across the top said, 'Erotic Nights' 'Sexy lingerie to spice up the long winter nights'.

"If you'll model this stuff for Mr Spencer's friend who owns that company, then he says he'll let me keep my job, and he won't go to the police."

I opened the catalogue, and the kind of stuff in there was as you might expect. I asked Gerry,

"Have you seen this stuff?"

"Yes. I know it's a bit skimpy. But you will be on a stage, and nobody will be able to get near enough to touch you."

"A stage? What do you mean?"

"He's explained it all to me. It's all above board. You'll have someone to help you dress, a female of course. And it will be in a private club, with only selected guest. They'll be a hired security man, so you won't be in any danger."

"So you've already discussed the details before you even asked me?"

"Well yes, I couldn't ask you without knowing you'd be alright."

"And you want me to appear on stage in front of a load of strange men, wearing this?"

I at this point held the catalogue open showing a thong similar in size to the one I'd modelled earlier for Graham and Peter.

"Please Mary. I know they don't cover much, but if you don't, then I'm in real trouble. I wouldn't ask if I could see any other way out."

What could I say? Here was my husband begging me to do the very thing I'd told Graham just a few hours earlier that I wouldn't consider. I looked at Graham, and as I said,

"Ok, you'd better make the arrangements, and let me know which night you want me,"

I gave him my most angry scowl. It was Graham, who now spoke,

"I think you made a wise choice there Mrs Kendal. Oh that does sound so formal, especially as I expect I'll be seeing so much more of you in the future. Do you mind if I use your first name?"

Gerry about burst himself to get his answer out before me,

"No of course not Mr Spencer. Her name is Mary."

"Right Mary, have you prepared Gerry's meal yet?"

I wondered what on earth he wanted to know that for, but I just replied,

"Well no. I was just about to start on it when you arrived."

"That's good. Now Gerry lad, it's your call, but I know you and the lads were talking about the match tonight."

(Apparently there was some football match being shown on TV)

At this point Graham took out his wallet, and pulled out a £20 note, as he offered it to Gerry he continued,

"Here's a twenty, order yourself a take-away, and some beer, and while you settle down to watch the game, I'll take your little lady out for a meal."

I spoke before Gerry had chance to accept,

"No it's alright. I don't feel like going out; thank you."

"Oh that is a shame. I know Peter Harris is in town today, he's been to checkout a new model,"

Then he looked at Gerry,

"He's the advertising man for the undies firm. It would have been an ideal time to get this sorted. If we miss him, it could take weeks before we get him down here again. And you know what that means? Until we get something agreed, your head is still on the chopping block."

Gerry looked at me,

"What's wrong? Don't you feel well?"

"I've got a bit of a headache."

Then he came right up close and whispered in my ear.

"Please. You don't know what I'm going through. I've got more than just a bit of a headache, I'm sick to the bottom of my guts. Please do this, just for me. I just need to know where I stand."

Again I was trapped; Gerry needed my help, so how could I say no.

"Well ok I'll meet this man, but can't he come here?"

"Not wanting to offend you or anything, but look around you. This guy heads up a big advertising firm, he's used to doing his business in posh hotels. I can hardly invite him to your semi-detached two-up two-down. What I'll do is go and make a few calls, and I'll get back here for seven."

I thought to myself, 'That's rich; he wasn't too posh to come here this afternoon and fuck me into a state of oblivion'. But I obviously didn't say anything. Then again he deliberately turned and looked at Gerry,




Freebie Ch. 02



All of my stories include descriptions of sex scenes that could cause offence to some people. Please do not read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual material, or if you are under the legal age of consent for your own country. These stories are pure fiction and are not based on anyone living or deceased.

*

I left you at the end of part one, where I'd just left the hotel after having a sex session with two men. One was the boss of my husband Gerry, a Mr Spencer (Graham), and the other, a business friend of his, a Mr Harris (Peter), who handled the advertising for a sexy lingerie firm. Oh, and my name is Mary. And because of Gerry's stupidity at work, his boss now had evidence that could result in him going to gaol. So to prevent his boss taking the evidence to the police, Gerry had begged me to go with these men, knowing they'd want me to have sex with them. But now instead of taking me straight home, we were on our way to some kind of club.

So we left the hotel, and climbed into the back of the big limo. As we were being driven to the club, Graham began to explain what kind of club it was.

"I'm sure you'll like this place."

"Why? What kind of club is it?"

"You could say it's a kind of cross between a lap dancing club and a karaoke."

"You what? How on earth can those two go together?"

"Well you see the kind of man who frequents this club must obviously like seeing women dancing provocatively, and he also has to be wealthy enough to back this up. But the club doesn't have any paid dancers or strippers. So the ladies who come to the club are girls who like to show off their assets, so to speak; and as the men always show their appreciation with cash, they also leave a little richer than when they arrive."

I guess my face showed the apprehension I felt knowing this was obviously the fate they expected me to endure. He continued,

"Don't look so worried. I'm sure you won't have any problems paying for your enrolment."

"Enrolment? I don't understand."

"Well; men join by paying for membership at a cost of one hundred pounds. But ladies can enter free, and providing their first performance generates in excess of the one hundred pounds membership fee; that not only entitles them to membership, they also get to keep fifty-percent of what ever they've made. But it also entitles them to free admission in the future, where they can keep fifty-percent of what ever they pull when they're on stage."

If this was his way of reassuring me it wasn't working, it was beginning to sound more and more scary with every word. Then I guess Peter picked up on my anxiety, and he said,

"Don't let him worry you my dear. All you'll need to do is model a few of my costumes, and they'll be eating out of your hand."

"Eating from her snatch you mean."

This was Graham's sneering retort.

I looked at Peter,

"Do you mean I'll be expected to get up on stage, and then parade around in those skimpy panties you make?"

"Yes. But that won't be a problem. Will it?"

"I I don't think I'll have the nerve to pose in front of a room full of strangers."

"Don't you kid yourself. The way you lapped up the attention you got in the hotel, I have no doubt in your ability. As soon as you see the reaction your posing causes, I think you'll be displaying not only my lingerie to its best advantage, but also offering the punters a view of your intimate treasures."

I blushed, and even though I knew he was trying to pay me a compliment, it still didn't make me feel any easier. Then without warning, the car came to a halt, and the driver's voice came through the speakers,

"Bitches."

Graham opened his door and even before I climbed out, I could see the small neon sign 'Bitches'. We climbed from the car, and I could then see we were in a dimly lit back street. The only evidence to indicate the presence of anything as sophisticated as a club was that illuminated sign. I followed Graham as he descended down the dark stairway. He'd only turned into the staircase, and taken one step, when the staircase lit-up. It was illuminated by rows of tiny spotlights sunk into the walls inches from step height, and even some lights in the actual steps shining directly upwards.

So as I followed Graham, with Peter behind me, we descended down below ground level. As we neared the bottom few steps, the door at the bottom of the staircase opened, and a big muscle-bound doorman appeared. From his vantage point, and with the direction of the light beams, he would obviously be getting a clear view up into my crotch area. And again I was conscious of the skimpiness of the thong I was wearing. Graham was instantly recognised by the doorman,

"Good evening Mr Spencer. Is the young lady a member?"

"No Terry, I'm afraid she's not."

"So will she be paying for membership or performing?"

Graham looked across to me,

"Do you have a hundred quid (£100) on you?"

It was obvious I didn't, but I shook my head all the same.

"Well Terry, it looks like the little lady will be taking to the stage."

Peter again seeing my look of fear tried to offer words of comfort,

"Don't worry Mary. You'll see. Once you're inside and you get into the swing of things, it'll be easy."

We walked in and were seated at a table alongside the stage. To be more accurate, the stage was actually a large circle, maybe twenty feet across. And all the tables were positioned around its edge. There was a narrow open walkway, similar to a catwalk, which led from the stage to a pair of heavy curtains; behind which I supposed were the dressing rooms for stage performers. The stage and catwalk were only around eighteen inches high, and the stage had little sets of stairs leading up to it from in between each pair of tables. It was well lit with lights from all around its edge, and even before we'd arrived at our table I could see the girl who was currently giving her performance. Well far from Peter's words of comfort, now I was inside the club and could see what was happening on stage, I was even more worried. The girl was on her back in the middle of the stage area on a big cushion, which must have had some kind of revolving support under it. Her legs were high in the air, and a big black man was fucking her in a very leisurely and cavalier manner. As he fucked, his legs would give the occasional push, turning them both, so that all the audience got an unrestricted view. He was obviously used to this kind of performance, and liked the attention of his audience.

As we all sat around the table, a waiter came to take the drinks order, but Peter again advised me to steer clear of alcohol. By the time my coke arrived, the big black man was asking the audience where they wanted him to shoot his cum. He'd point to her face and men would throw money onto the stage. Then he'd point to her breasts, and again a shower of money would fall on the stage like confetti. He indicated various parts of the girl's body, obviously including her pussy. But the one which brought the largest shower of money was when he lifted her legs high, and pointed his cock at her bottom. This was obviously going to be the winning option, and after spitting out a mouthful of disgusting spittle onto his fingers, he proceeded to work it into her bottom. He then took great delight in forcing his shaft deep up inside her, and in only a few moments, his movements indicated he was delivering his cum. This was completed to a rousing accompaniment of applause and another shower of money.

Meanwhile, although subconsciously this sexual display was sowing the seeds for an arousal, consciously, I became all the more nervous; knowing my turn on stage was getting all the closer. As the couple on stage took their bows, and gathered up the money they'd attracted, the stage lights dropped to a subdued glow, and a spotlight picked-up a man appearing from the curtains, and making his way out to the stage.

"Well let's have a big round of applause for a wonderful display there by our little Helen, and ably assisted by the big boy Dirk."

Some of the audience responded, but most of the audience took their opportunity to resume normal conversation and the like. (Visiting the toilets, ordering drinks etc.) During the time it took for the stage to be cleared of the large cushion, contraption under it and the evidence of sticky liquids, the man on stage (who was obviously a comedian/announcer), went into a stream of jokes, which almost nobody appeared to be listening to. Peter caught my attention, and pointed up into the ceiling above the centre of the stage.

"Can you see that curtain?"

Hanging high in the air was a light weight curtain, made in a circular fashion.

"Yes. What is that for?"

"Once the stage is cleared, they'll bring out a rack with costumes on it. And the curtain will give you an enclosure to get changed in. Each hanger will be numbered, so just put on each costume in order. Once you come out on stage, it's up to you to display the costume to get the best reaction from the men watching."

"Do I have to dance or what?"

"It's up to you, what ever you feel comfortable with. If you want to dance and there is any particular music you want?"

"No, I don't think I could. I'm not even sure I'll find the courage to get up on the stage, let alone come out wearing a skimpy costume."

"You will. You forget you took my little magic tablet. By now, you'll find once you get the slightest sign of arousal, you'll let go without even knowing you're doing it."

"If you say so. But I don't feel very aroused right now."

As he had said, while the lights were still dimmed, the stage hands had wheeled out a rack, but in the dim lighting, it was difficult to distinguish what clothes were on it. Then as they left the stage the circular curtain descended from the ceiling, and enclosed an area around the rack, about five feet across. It was at this point the announcer announced,

"Gentlemen. Can I have your attention? The act is nothing new; in fact I think I can go as far as to say it's an old favourite here at Bitches. But the girl modelling for us tonight is a fresh face, and I'm assured a fresh little pussy to match. So lets all give an encouraging welcome to Mary; who is about to present the latest creations from the Erotic Nights collection."

Peter and Graham both gave me the nod, and Graham said,

"Ok girl, its time for you to show them what you can do."

I slowly rose to my feet, and as soon as I was standing, the spotlight moved from the announcer who was exiting the stage, and picked me out. With that, suddenly every eye in the room was focused my way. As I began my slow climb up the three small steps up to the stage, it was as if someone else had taken over my senses. I could feel myself swaying my hips in an exaggerated manner. And instead of just making my way directly to the curtains, I was walking the perimeter of the stage. But not just walking aimlessly, as I passed each table I'd turn and stoop. Not spreading my legs wantonly, or crudely displaying my all; no, just teasing, and wetting the appetites of the open mouthed onlookers.

Where this performance came from I can't imagine, but it was having an effect, even before I started to model the skimpy costumes. Every flash and enticement would bring forth a shower of notes; and even though I didn't stop to pick them up, I could see they were mostly £20 notes! By the time I'd entered the curtain enclosure, the perimeter of the stage was strewn with money. As I disappeared into my enclosure, the audience began to chant, and I knew I couldn't waste any time getting changed into the first costume. But something else was also obvious now, the curtains were made of an almost see-through material, so although the audiences view might have been obscured slightly, I certainly hadn't got total privacy. But for some reason this didn't faze me at all, and I stripped naked; then put on the first of the costumes.

I was soon out on stage, and posing from table to table, and if the money that was landing on the stage was any indication, then the audience liked what they saw. I won't go into detail about each and every costume, as even in my mind they all merged from one to the next. But I started with what you might call a simple one piece swimming costume, and progressed via ten different ones until the last one was the smallest of thongs imaginable. But even this last one which didn't even have a top to cover my breasts, and in truth, the bottom half didn't cover my pussy completely; I displayed with a brashness I still can't explain. As I took what I thought were my final bows walking around the edge of the stage, I heard the announcer's voice over the speaker system.

"Right gentlemen. Once you've finished showing your appreciation for the new girl Mary, I'm thinking maybe there are a few of you virile young bucks out there who would like to come on stage and offer your services to help our newcomer to cash in on what looks like being a profitable night out."

At this point various men began to leave their tables and make their way up onto the stage. The announcer lined them up across the centre of the stage. By now of course, the stage hands had removed the rack of costumes, and the curtain was back to its position high in the ceiling. But more ominously, the stage hands had also brought out a big round cushion similar to the one the girl before me have been having sex on; at this point they left it at the end of the walkway out of the way of things happening centre stage. They were now busy collecting all the money from around the stage.

I tentatively made my way to the edge of the stage with the intention of going back to my table, when the announcer called,

"Hey Mary, don't you want your dress?"

I turned and could see he was holding my little red dress as he stood centre stage in the spotlight. I walked back and took it from him, and began to step into it.

"I don't know about you men out there. But even though I can see as much of the little lady as she puts her dress on, as I could when she was busy taking it off; it somehow doesn't seem as enticing this way around."

I ignored his remark, and completed fastening the buttons on my dress. But it seems he wasn't finished with me yet. Again as I turned and was about to walk off stage, he took hold of my hand and turned me back towards him.

"Don't go just yet sweetie. Look at these virile young studs we have lined-up for you."

I turned and looked at the eight men all lined-up across the widest part of the stage.

"Wouldn't you like to try one of these men for size?"

I didn't answer, but just dropped my head low and shook it.

"Well lads, looks like she isn't over enthusiastic about your company. Maybe if you were all to show her what you're offering."

With that, all eight men began to strip, and in less than a couple of minutes, all eight of them were stood there with just the skimpiest of posing pouches covering, but not hiding the size and shape of there cocks.

"Well Mary my dear, has that tempted you to change your mind?"

I did look back, and for some unknown reason, I couldn't stop myself from scanning from one to the next until I'd assessed them all. Then he snapped me out of my trance,

"Well? Seen anything you fancy?"

I turned back, and again dropped my head as I shook it to indicate I wasn't interested.

He kept hold of my hand as he again spoke to the audience,

"Ok gentlemen. I'll bring each of these lads to centre stage one at a time, and if you give me a show of hands, we'll pick out a partner for young Mary here."

So that was what he did, as each of the men came to the front centre stage, the audience voted with a show of hands, and in no time they'd selected a big muscle-bound white guy. He stood at least six-foot six tall, with big broad shoulders. But if his body was big, his dick was if anything proportionally even bigger. It hung in its soft silk pouch, and every step he took it swung from side to side. And unless he'd actually got something else in there to enhance its looks, his drooping soft dick must have been a good ten or more inches long. I can only imagine what it could look like when he got aroused! He'd rival a fucking horse!

As I stood there gazing in total amazement the announcer said (via his microphone, so everyone else could also hear),

"Well Mary, it looks like we've got your interest at last. Now they've selected a suitable stud to match your delicate charms, how do you feel about giving us a little show?"

As I realised I'd been staring down at this guy's pouch, I coloured up bright red, hung my head low and shook it again as I tried to pull my way free from his grip.

"Hold up there my dear. We can all tell you're interested. And from your performance just now, we can see you've got what it takes. So why are you being so shy?"

I tried to whisper into his ear, but unknown to me he moved his mic, and it picked up my answer,

"Please, I just want to go back to the table."

"But you haven't even found out how much money you made with your last little show."

At this point one of the stage hands brought over the money they'd picked up from the stage and told him the total.

"It appears your cut is one thousand one hundred and sixty pounds; not a bad little earner. But as she seems a little reluctant to take on our stud here, how about letting her know what she's turning down. Come on gents, let's see your pledges."

With that the audience began to place money on their tables, and one of the stagehand went around counting it, but then putting it back on the table it came from. When he'd counted the money on all the tables he came and again whispered into the announcer's ear.

"Well gentlemen; its plain to see you all want Mary here to perform with Olaf. And just for the record, that is the highest amount we've ever had for a newcomer. Just over two and a half grand. So little lady, are you going to turn that down? Two thousand six hundred, lovely pound notes."

I got a lump in my throat when I realised just how much money I would be turning down. With the money I'd already been given for displaying those costumes; that would be two months wages for my husband. But turn it down I had to, I couldn't willingly do something like that in front of an audience, unless it was absolutely necessary.

I looked up to his smiling face, and shook my head. Again he spoke into the mic so the whole club could hear, but his question was aimed at me,

"You can't mean that? You're turning down over two grand for just one little ten minute romp?"

I dropped my head.

"Ok, back to your table, but if you leave the stage, and decide to come back again later, we can't guaranteed the pledge you've just been given."

With that he loosed my hand and as I turned to walk off the stage a ripple of dissenting voices began to build. It gradually turned into a chant,

"Mary. Mary. WE want Mary. Mary. Mary. WE want Mary."

As I sat myself down at our table the announcer came across and knelt at the edge of the stage, and held his outstretched arm towards where I sat, beckoning or almost begging me to return to the stage,

"Come Mary. Surely you haven't the heart to disappoint all these eager gentlemen?"

Graham lent across and whispered in my ear,

"What are you waiting for; I'm sure your Gerry wouldn't want to miss out on two and a half grand. Especially earned so easily."

I shook my still lowered head. Then Graham whispered something in the announcer's ear.

The announcer then stood back up to face his audience,

"Well gentlemen, it looks like this little newbie needs to get her husbands blessing. And I've been told that his attention is liable to be influenced by the sound of money. So before our go-between seeks his approval, is there anyone who wants to up the ante?"




Freebie Ch. 02



There was a general murmuring from all around the room, and as I looked around, extra cash was being placed on tables. Again, one of the stagehands went around counting the money, and again he whispered into the announcer's ear. He then looked across to our table as he announced through his mic,

"Right sir; tell her husband she's on for fifty quid short of three and a half grand. And that's a record for anyone, newbie or otherwise."

Graham got to his feet and walked out into the entrance lobby, and with that the announcer asked who wanted to be next up on stage. Within a minute there was another girl up on stage, and as she began her erotic dance, a gleaming chrome pole descended down from the ceiling centre stage. Once it had completed its descent, she then proceeded to perform a strip and pole dance. After removing each and every item of clothing, she would circle the stage perimeter, displaying her charms, and enticing the audience, to solicit what rewards she could from them.

Graham returned, and told me Gerry was on the phone in the lobby, and he wanted to talk to me. I went out, and a bouncer in the lobby handed me the phone.

"Hello. Gerry; are you there?"

"Yes. Is that you Mary? Are you alright?"

"Yes it's me, and I'm ok. Graham said you wanted to talk to me."

"Well he's just told me what's going on. He says you're with some of his friends, and they're willing to pay you four and a half grand if you let one of them have sex with you."

"It's not quite like that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I'm in a private club, and yes they will pay me if I have sex with a guy, but not that much."

Just then Graham pressed the privacy button on the phone, I hadn't realised he'd followed me out and had been standing right behind me. Then whilst holding the button so Gerry couldn't hear us, he said,

"It's over four and a half grand if you include the money you got for modelling those costumes. And if you don't fuck, you'll loose that money. After all it was Peter's stuff you were modelling, so he should be the one who gets that. So get back on the phone and tell that snivelling creep of a husband it's actually four thousand five-hundred and sixty pounds riding on just one fuck!"

He then released the mute button.

"Mary, are you there?"

"Yes. Sorry, someone was talking to me."

"I thought we'd been cut-off."

"No I'm here."

"You were just saying, they aren't offering that much. Well how much are the offering?"

"Does it matter? Didn't you hear what I said, it isn't just some of his friends; we're in a club. And if I do it, they'll all be watching."

"Well yes. But if they're paying real big sums of money, it has to be worth thinking about."

I couldn't believe my ears. I'd just told him the offer was for me to be fucked in public, and he still wanted to know how much money they were offering.

"The man who they want me to have sex with is hung like a horse. Is that what you want me to do, perform like a whore to earn you some money?"

I listened, but the phone was silent. Then Graham again held the mute button,

"You silly little cow. Do you realise, if you leave here now, you'll go home with nothing?"

"At least I'll have a little of my pride. Maybe I have prostituted myself with you and Peter, but that was to keep Gerry out of jail. But I won't sink that low for the sake of money."

Graham took the receiver from my hand and as he released the mute button,

"Hi Gerry lad. I've been thinking. I know you've been after doing a part-ex with that old heap of yours for some time now. And I know you've been trying to buy Tony's BMW. Well here's my offer, my BM is only three years old, and it's got to be worth nine grand of anybodies money. I'll take your old Audi, and the money your little lady makes tonight, and you can have my Beemer."

There was a pause, and Graham again spoke,

"What's up, cat got your tongue?"

"I I don't know Mr Spencer. I can see I'd be stupid to turn you down, but its Mary, she don't seem keen."

"Come on my boy. It's time for you to grow up. Believe me lad; she's got more cunt there than you can satisfy. And never you mind what she's been telling you; I can show you a video that will prove, once she gets her legs up, she's not bothered who's on top, she fucks like its going out of fashion. Come on all she needs if your consent. You'll regret it if you miss this chance. Ok I'll put the little lady back on."

Then as he passed me the phone,

"Here, I think he wants another word."

"Mary?"

"Yes."

"Did you hear what he said?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And what?

"Well I was just wondering. Is it right?"

"Is what right? Me giving a fucking show on stage with a man called horse, to earn you a new car. What do you think?"

"No Mary. Don't be like that. I mean is it right that once you actually start having sex, it doesn't really matter who's doing it to you?"

Now what could I say to this, if I denied it, I knew that Graham would take great delight in showing all the video and still shots he'd taken of me. And I was also aware, my facial expressions during some of this video would substantiate Graham's claim.

"I can't help what happens once we've started the actual sex. It's just something my body does. But it doesn't mean anything. It's not like I love them or anything."

"I know that, but if once you've started it feels ok, then it has to be worth thinking about. After all, my car isn't worth much over four grand, so if I get Mr Spencer's Beemer; that means your one little sex session will be worth over five grand. Do the maths, that's a grand a minute."

Sarcastically I said,

"It might be if he's finished as quickly as you. But I've seen one of these men performing on stage with a girl. And if this monster is anything like the one I watched, he'll be pounding that giant cock of his into me for a good thirty minutes. Ramming it in and out at least once every second, that's one thousand eighteen hundred times I'll take his length. It's my guess this guy's cock is at least fourteen inches long. You do the maths. That's not even twenty pence an inch!" (Mental arithmetic always was my strong suit.)

"Oh come on Mary. Please. He can't be that big. And anyway, if it's too big it won't go in. You can only take what your pussy is made to take."

"So you want me to go out on stage and let this stranger split me wide open with the whole club watching?"

"Don't say it like that. Just tell Mr Spencer you'll do it, I'm sure he'll make sure you're ok."

"CRASH!"

I slammed the receiver back down that hard it's a wonder it didn't break. I turned and stomped back into the club, with Graham following me. As I sat down I saw Peter giving Graham an inquisitive look, but as there was now another girl on stage writhing around with a lighted candle in each hand, neither of them spoke, but Graham answered with a big grin. Peter obviously understood, as he leant back in his chair, and took a big draw on his cigar, a satisfied smile beamed from his face. Within seconds of us returning to the table, the announcer had made his way around the floor, not on stage, and was sidling up to Graham, who whispered in his ear. Then his face turned to a smile, and off he disappeared into the shadows.

I sat back in a trance waiting for this girl to finish her act, and my inevitable downfall to commence. Suddenly I was aware of someone placing their hand on my shoulder, and as I turned to see who it was the announcer whispered,

"Come with me."

I looked at Peter; as if asking 'should I go with him?' He just nodded and gave me a smile. I rose to my feet and followed him out to the lobby, and then into a side office where he handed me a very legal looking document. As I tried to make sense of the legally worded jargon, he said,

"It's just our standard consent form. If you read it all, and can understand what it means, you'll be the first one who has. It's just covering us in case you suddenly go to the police tomorrow, and cry rape. It basically says you're willingly taking part in a fucking session, with an audience."

"Why do you need that; surely every man out there is a witness to me getting on stage voluntarily?"

"It doesn't really apply in your case, but its club policy, no waiver form, no performance. And that means no money. It's really to cover girls who are roll playing; pretending to be for instance, a night nurse making her rounds on her own, and several patients take hold of her and she gets gang raped. See to be in character, she'll be saying no, and even crying out, 'RAPE! RAPE!'."

"Oh, I see. But I still can't see why I need to sign one."

"Like I said, club policy, no waiver form, no performance; and that means no money."

I scrawled my signature and handed him the form. He slipped it into the desk draw and said,

"Ok, let's get you ready."

As he left the office, I followed but instead of leading me back into the club to where Peter and Graham were I assumed still waiting; he turned the opposite way down the lobby, and led me into a different room. This was obviously a dressing room, as it had five stools, each with its own mirror in front of it, bordered with strip lights. The whole of the rest of the room was crammed with racks of costumes. I say costumes, not like the beachwear ones I'd modelled, these were clothes, but more like fancy dress or theatrical. From what I could see you could dress up as any kind of character you could dream of.

"Why do I need to come in here?"

He didn't answer immediately, but he was busy sorting along a rack. It only took him half a minute to find and pull out a nun's habit. He turned and held it out with his face supporting a big beaming smile.

"There you are. Sister Mary. What could be more perfect? You can go out on stage fully clothed, and kneel down to say your prayers. I'll get Olaf and a few others to dress as soldiers. That way you can fight and struggle as much as you want. The one thing that can screw-up an operation like ours is if a girl like you says she will one minute. And then the next minute, gets cold feet, and backs out when she sees it's for real. This way, we don't have that problem, you've signed to take a fucking, and any cries for help are just acting out the part."

With that he handed me the complete outfit and left the room. At first I was horrified, but the more I thought about my situation the more I felt at ease with it. I didn't have to be a whore, or submit willingly. I could fight like a cat, and Gerry would still get his money, cos I'd get fucked no matter what. I stripped and started to put on all the heavy coarse underwear that came with the nun's costume.

I'd just put the vest/bodice over my head and was busy getting it straight when the door opened and in trouped six men. One of them dashed across and slipped his hand in between my naked legs. I dropped my hands to reach behind me and took hold of his wrist. But another pair of men had joined in, and one each side began to pull my ankles slowly apart. My hands on the intruders wrist were pointless as now my legs were opening, he just slipped his fingers under and up into my pussy.

I pleaded,

"Please don't."

Of course I never expected them to listen, but the big man who I knew was called Olaf, barked out,

"You heard her."

"Fuck you. She's ours for the taking."

The words had hardly left his lips before I heard a frightening,

"CRACK!"

And then seconds later,

"THUD!"

Olaf had struck the man with a blow to the head and he'd dropped like a stone hitting his head on the floor as he landed. Just at that second the announcer came in,

"What the fucks going on?"

"That pig needed some wax clearing from his ears. When he comes around, tell him not to come anywhere near this little girl."

"You big oaf. She's here to be fucked."

"I know that, and I'm the one who's going to do it. But that doesn't mean she has to put up with dickheads like him until we get on stage. She told him to leave-off."

"I sometimes wonder if it's worth putting up with your fucking attitude. I've told you before, once they've signed, they fuck. It's that simple."

He then turned and addressed the rest of the men,

"Now all of you get fucking ready, or they'll be a riot out there as well."

As the announcer left the room I turned to Olaf and said,

"Thank you. But I didn't want to get you into trouble."

"No trouble. Are you ok? You do want to fuck with me?"

I know I didn't, but I had to say yes, otherwise my Gerry would be so disappointed.

"Yes. I'm ok."

"But I could see you were dead-set against it earlier; and that was when you would only have been fucked by me. How come you're now saying yes to a gang rape?"

"Gang rape? Nobody mentioned anything about gang rape."

"Well why do you think this lot are getting all dressed-up?"

"I was told they would be holding me, so it would look like you were raping me."

"You've signed a waiver form and once you appear on stage, not only this lot will follow me, but anyone from the audience. Mark my words, you've created a stir out there, they'll be queuing-up. It's my bet you'll take at least thirty men before you go home."

I was obviously horror struck,

"Oh my god! What can I do?"

"So I can take it from your reaction, you don't want any fucking?"

"Well my husband wants me to bring back the money they pledged, but that was supposed to be for having sex with one man; you."

"That won't happen now. You should have said yes on stage. You won't get a penny now unless you roll-play, and that will be a free-for-all."

"How can I get out now? He's got my signature. What ever I do or say, they can claim they thought it was playacting."

"It won't be easy, but if you trust me, and do exactly what I say, I'll try to get you out."

I looked up at this giant of a man, now in an army uniform, complete with those black markings that you sometimes see on the faces of battle ready soldiers. He looked every inch like a fierce and ungodly animal. My first thoughts were, if I agree to do as he tells me, he's bound to make sure he gets his fuck no matter whether he helps me out of this mess or not. But then I reasoned, if I don't follow him, I'm doomed anyway. So even though I didn't trust him to have my best interests at heart, I reasoned he was my best or only option.

"Please help me; I'll do what ever you tell me."

"Ok, you walk out now, and I'll be right behind you. But what ever you do don't try to make a run for freedom unless I tell you. And if I tell you 'up', as I bend down towards you, you leap up onto my shoulder and hang onto me for dear life. Now let's go."

I got up from the stool I'd been sitting on and began to walk towards the door at the far end of the dressing room, the one I now knew led to the stage. As I glanced back, I saw him pick up a big stout baton, about the size of a baseball bat, and then he marched right up close following my every footstep.

As we reached the curtains, we could hear there was another act already performing on stage, and by parting them slightly, we could both get a glimpse to see how near she was to her finale. As it was, the girl on stage was performing various poses, or moves, with a wand to which was attached a long ribbon which curled and twirled as she went head over heals around the stage. This was the kind of thing I'd associate with a rhythmic gymnast, but as she wasn't wearing any panties, it kind of threw a new meaning on every stretch and tumble. I guess we'd been waiting no more than two minutes before she had completed her act and was taking her bows, and then collecting her money.

Just at that moment, the announcer appeared at our side and asked Olaf,

"Are you ready?"

"We are."

And with that he grabbed the mic from the announcer, and pushed me through the curtains; he continued with,

"But I'll do the introductions."

And as he shoved me out onto the stage and followed closely behind me,

"Go on, but stick close."

I was catapulted out into the spotlight, and as I stumbled past the girl who was returning to the dressing room, I could hear Olaf over the speaker system.

"Right gentlemen. I'm sorry to announce a change to the show. As you are I'm sure aware, little Mary is new to this game, and she isn't yet confident enough to perform. I know you were told different."

At this point the announcer was also out on stage and trying to take hold of the mic. Olaf lifted up his baton, and the announcer seeing he meant business, backed off.

"I know you're all disappointed, and believe me, so am I. But even though she might have signed a consent form, she's changed her mind now. I'm telling all of you; anyone who touches her will be guilty of rape."

By now there were big doormen climbing up onto the stage from all around us, and Olaf was circling around with me tucked in front of him, his free hand high in the air threatening anyone who came close with the big baton.

"Ok, make a way clear, we're leaving the stage."

Slowly the circle of doormen parted, and we gradually made our way to the steps leading back to the floor area. As we slowly made our way forwards, the angry men closed up behind us, and the ones in front begrudgingly parted to allow us through. I never thought we'd reach the exit, but reach it we did, and we were soon outside in the cool night air.

As the door closed behind us, it was obvious we had left via a different door to the one I arrived at, and we were now in a basement car park. I'd expected us to be followed out, but not one head appeared from the door. I looked up at this giant of a man and asked,

"Won't they follow us?"

"Not now you're outside, the form you signed doesn't cover any activity out here."

"Where are we?"

"This is a multi-storey car park. We can use those stairs to get back up to ground level."

With that he walked me across to a stairway, and up we climbed. As we appeared out in the street, the big limo arrived and pulled up alongside us and the door opened. Peter and Graham were in the back, and Graham lent out from the door and began a slow hand-clap,

"Some performance. A costly one; but a good performance never-the-less. Well are you getting in?"

"I I don't know, what are you going to do to me if I get in?"

"Take you home, what else."

I looked past Graham and my question was directed at Peter,

"Can I trust you to take me straight home?"

Olaf put his hand on my shoulder, and before anyone in the car answered, he'd pulled me aside, and stepped in himself. He then lent out to me and gave me his hand to usher me in. As my head appeared in the car, Olaf said,

"You can now."

As I'd said before this was a big stretched limo, and Olaf and me sat with our backs to the driver, facing Peter and Graham. So although face to face there was a good five or more feet between us.

As we dropped back into the seats, Graham looked at Olaf, and said sarcastically,

"Come in, make yourself at home."

Then he added,

"I wanted to have a word with you anyway"

Olaf was not a man to be intimidated, and instead of letting Graham take control of the conversation, he moved forwards to the edge of his seat, and pointed that big baton directly at Graham's head,

"You pig! Men like you make me sick. You bring nice young girl to a shit hole like that, and then force her to behave like an animal."

Graham looked scared, but he did try to regain the situation,

"Now hang on a minute. She came with us of her own free will. We weren't forcing her to do anything. And anyway, who are you to criticise. You would have been the one fucking her guts out."

"Crack!"

I guess there wasn't any real force behind the blow, but Olaf had just prodded his baton into Graham's forehead, and the crack was audible. And judging by the way Graham grabbed his head and dropped it momentarily into his lap, I guess it hurt plenty.




Freebie Ch. 02



"I fuck only girls who want to be fucked. And I wouldn't be doing that if I had money like you. You might be able to buy trash like me to get your kicks, but there are depths even I won't stoop to. Now listen to me."

At this point he shook his baton towards both Peter and then back to Graham who had now lifted his head back up. Incidentally, by now a big lump had already appeared on his forehead.

"I'm going to make it my business to talk to this little girl tomorrow, and if either of you have done anything to her, or arranged for anyone else to do anything to her that she isn't happy with. Then you had better disappear from the face of the planet. I'll hunt you down and rip your guts out. Now stop this fucking car."

Graham and Peter both looked ashen faced, as Graham lent across pressed the button and spoke into the little grill by his side.

"Ok Jimmy. You can pull up here."

The voice came back through the speakers,

"But sir, we're miles from anywhere, and on a motorway."

Graham looked across at Olaf, as if asking if he still wanted to have the car stopped. Olaf used his baton and pushed Graham in the chest forcing him along the seat towards Peter. He then lent across and spoke into the grill.

"Find the nearest town and stop somewhere I can get a taxi."

Graham might have been scared, and that would of course be understandable, but give him his due, he slowly moved the end of the baton from his chest and as he leant back towards the grill he pressed the little button by the side of it,

"Carry on Jimmy; I'll get back you in a minute."

Then he looked at Olaf,

"He didn't hear your instruction, so don't go bashing him on the head. And if you tell us where you want to go, we can take you. There's no need for a taxi."

Olaf looked more than a little agitated,

"Don't get fucking clever with me. I'm still the one holding the stick."

"I'm not getting clever my boy. And I don't know why you're so up tight. Surely we can all be friends?"

Then he looked at me,

"Come Mary; think about your Gerry's future. Surely you can reassure Olaf here that we are all good friends."

I knew he was hinting about the trouble my Gerry could get into, or to be more accurate, the trouble he could cause for my Gerry. Somewhere along the way, I'd forgotten he still held the trump card. I turned and looked up at Olaf,

"He's right. I know I was scared back there in the club. But I didn't realise what I was getting myself into. And I'm more than just grateful for your help. Without you, I don't know what would have happened."

Graham said softly,

"We do."

As I looked across he was sitting there with a big beaming smile. I lifted myself up and planted a soft kiss on Olaf cheek.

"See lad, she might be a bit on the shy side, but once she gets to know you, she's like any other bitch on heat."

Olaf face turned from the soft mellow smile I'd managed to bring about, into a fierce snarl as he growled,

"You are rude and disgusting man."

"No Olaf. You don't know the little girl. Come on Mary, tell him."

"Tell him what?"

"You just said you were grateful for his help. I'm sure you want to show him how grateful."

It was obvious what he had on his mind, but knowing the bottom line was playing along or Gerry going to prison, I asked him anyway,

"By doing what?"

"Invite him back to your house with us. Maybe Gerry would like to see the man who saved his wife's honour."

"It's late; Olaf has probably got things to do, or needs to be somewhere."

"Ask him."

"Would you like to meet my husband?"

"I don't know. Do you want me to?"

"I guess he will want to thank you."

"That is not necessary."

"But I want to thank you."

"You already have, that kiss was thanks enough."

Graham piped up in a sarcastic tone,

"How sweet. It's like a medieval maiden who's been saved by a knight in shining armour. Come on Mary cut the crap. Invite him back to fuck you."

Again Olaf scowled, but he said nothing.

"Don't look so angry. Slip your hand up her habit (I was of course still dressed in the nun's habit), and you'll find her snatch is dripping wet. She wants your dick like a dog wants a bone."

I could see Graham's eyes burning into me, urging me to offer myself to Olaf. I plucked up the courage, and looked up at his still scowling face,

"Please Olaf, he is telling the truth. I do want to show you my gratitude. Come back with us, and we can make love."

"Your husband! What will he say?"

Graham chipped in,

"He'll be a good little boy, and sit quietly watching."

Olaf looked concerned as he asked,

"Are you sure you want me to come to your house?"

"Yes. I need to repay your kindness."

"That's settled then, we should be arriving at your place any minute, and then once our Olaf here has done the business, we'll give him a lift to where ever he calls home."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, but both Graham and Peter had smiles on their faces like two excited school boys. Olaf and I kept exchanging glances, and as I began to think of what would soon be taking place between us, I could feel my tummy getting to a boiling point. I'm not sure how much my eagerness showed in my face, but as we exchanged glances, I saw Olaf's face change from one of concern and pity, to gradually a look of desire. 

As the drivers voice announced our arrival at my house, Graham looked at me and said,

"Ok, let me do the talking. And remember, what will happen if you screw-up this time."

It was obvious Olaf heard Graham's threat, but either he didn't understand its relevance, or he was so far down the path to our imminent union that nothing now mattered; but what ever the case, the remark didn't even show in a change of facial expression. 

So as I opened the front door graham called up the stairs,

"Hey Gerry lad, we've brought your little lady home."

I guess Gerry hadn't been asleep, as his reply was almost immediate,

"Ok I'll be down in a second."

We all went into the front room and were sitting down as Gerry walked in. He looked more than a little surprised to see so many people; I guess he'd thought it would be just me and Graham.

"Come in lad. That's it sit yourself down. This is Mr Harris, the advertising man from the knickers firm. And this is the hero of the night, Olaf."

You could see the look of curiosity on Gerry face, and Graham continued,

"Yes, I know last we spoke your little lady was about to win you a new car, but things didn't pan out that way. You see being as she didn't get up on stage and accept the money they were offering, the club got a bit nervous about her. And once they can't be sure of a girl's intentions, they have to cover themselves; insurance so to speak."

"I I don't understand."

"Well the upshot was, if she wanted to earn that wedge for you, she had to sign a waiver form, and agree to a bit of group sex."

"Group? But it was supposed to be just one guy?"

"I've told you, she just wasn't reliable, so it was group or nothing."

Gerry looked very worried, and Graham continued,

"Well she put a brave face on it, and signed the form, and then got dress-up ready to playact a rape scene. But somewhere in between signing and going out on stage, she got cold feet, or dry snatch, one or the other. But now her problem was how to get out of there."

"Why couldn't she just tell them she had changed her mind?"

"Because they had a signed form, which meant they could actually rape her, and claim she'd agreed. So in steps our hero. He wielded his big baseball bat and fought her way out to freedom."

Gerry dashed across to me, and hugged me,

"You weren't hurt?"

"No. Nobody touched me. Thanks to Olaf."

And at that point I turned and gave Olaf an admiring look. Gerry let go of me and turned to look at Olaf, who was still the most terrifying sight, and as he took hold of his hand with both of his own, he shook it saying,

"I don't know how I can thank you enough, but if there's ever anything I can do for you, just say."

Before Olaf could reply, Graham was ready with his planned intervention,

"Well Gerry lad, now you mention it. There is something Olaf was looking forward to. And helping your little lady meant he sacrificed his own desires. And my boy, it's something that's within your powers to give him."

"What? If there's anything he wants that I've got, it's his for the asking."

"I was kind of hoping you feel that way. You see this is the man who was about to perform with your little lady on stage, and if he hadn't rescued her, he'd have been the first one to have his pleasure."

I could see the meaning was now gelling in Gerry head, and as he turned and looked at Graham he asked,

"He wants to fuck her?"

"Of course he does my boy, doesn't every man that sees her. But more than just wanting to fuck her, I think you have to agree, he's earned the right."

Gerry looked at me next,

"And you, what do you think?"

Well as we all know it's wasn't a matter of what I thought or felt, as this was Graham's wish, if I didn't agree, I would be sending Gerry to prison.

"He did save me from being raped, and if he hadn't, I'd still be back in that club being abused by one man after another. He should be rewarded."

"Ok. I guess you and him might as well go upstairs and use our bedroom, we'll stay down here until he's finished."

"That's my boy, but now you've seen sense, try putting a bit more meaning into your offer. Go on tell Olaf you'd be pleased if he'd accept sex with your wife as a reward, and as a gesture of how much you appreciate his help."

Gerry now seemed to accept this with a lot more ease than I'd imagined, and he turned back to Olaf, again taking his hand with both of his own,

"Thank you for making sure my wife wasn't hurt. And I'd like, no I'd be please if you'd have sex with my Mary. She is dear to me, but I can see she likes you, and I feel I can trust you not to hurt her."

Graham got to his feet,

"Be back in a jiffy with my camera, Gerry lad, nip upstairs and grab a quilt off the bed and a few sheets, so we can spread them out across the floor. Peter can you get Olaf to help you move all the furniture to the outside of the room. We want plenty of clear space for them to perform on."

Gerry looked gob smacked, and as Graham was about to walk from the room he called,

"But Mr Spencer."

Graham stopped in the doorway,

"What now lad. Make it snappy, poor Olaf has been gagging for this fuck all night."

"But I thought they'd go upstairs and do it in private."

"Ha. Well you thought wrong, when that donkey cock of his spreads her snatch open; I'm gonna be front row, with camera on full zoom. And if I'm not mistaken, you'll be sitting in the corner watching and wanking like a love-sick monkey."

With that he disappeared and went out to his car.

By the time he'd returned, all the seating and tables were moved back to the walls, and Gerry had done as he was told, so Peter organised Gerry and Olaf into covering the carpets as fully as the sheets could manage.

"Good work lads, now how are you going to do this, do you want to be the nun being forced, or are you going to just undress and get stuck in?"

I could see his question was aimed towards me, but as I stood there not knowing how to answer, Peter said,

"Well if it's all the same to Mary, I like the idea of a nun reading her bible by candle light, and then blowing out her candle and using it to get some sexual relief. Then our big soldier can find her in the middle of her masturbation, and show her what her cunt is made for."

Graham looked delighted with this idea,

"Great, well Mary, can you go with that one?"

I reluctantly replied,

"I suppose so."

"And you Olaf, can you hold back long enough to let her work her snatch up to a lather?"

"I'll do it what ever way she wants me to."

Sarcastically Graham said,

"Arh, isn't he nice. Right we need a candle, Gerry lad can you find one, and a book, something that might look like a bible."

I knew Gerry wouldn't have any idea where to look,

"Its ok, I'll find them myself."

I actually had a real bible, and I went upstairs and collected it, but candles were not something we normally kept. All I could think of was a Christmas candle from last year it was in the cupboard by the fuse box, in case of a fuse blowing or a power cut. So I returned with bible in one hand, and a Santa minus its head (which had burnt away last time the candle had been used) in the other. What I hadn't even thought about was this candle was actually quite thick and knobbly, as it was after all a Santa carrying his sack full of toys. When Graham saw it he burst out laughing, and seconds later so did Peter.

As each of us began to see the absurdity of the sight, a nun holding a bible and headless Santa, first I joined in, then Gerry, and eventually even Olaf; though I'm not sure he actually thought it funny.

"Well come on then. This is gonna be one silly little movie. Right Mary, on your knees, and pretend to read your bible. Gerry lad, light the candle." We all followed instruction, and as I played my part, Graham began to film. Peter had a still camera and was intermittently taking photos.

As instructed I read my bible, and then placed it down on the floor. Then after wetting my fingers and pinching out the candle Graham said,

"Hold up, lets do that again, only this time kneel up straight, lift the hem of your habit, and wet your finger and thumb from your snatch, and before you use it to pinch out the candle, hold it out so we can see the sticky tendrils as your fingers part. Then pinch your candle. I did as he'd told me, and yes my pussy had got more than enough wet sticky juices to perform his request. Although I was acting a part and couldn't blatantly look at my audience, every glimpse I caught, told me; that to a man, they were transfixed, and from the glazed looks I'd guess all rock hard; but that last bit is pure supposition.

As I now start to fondle my candle, holding it in one hand and sliding the other up and down its knobbles and bumps, I begin to wonder it I'll be able to get something of this size and shape up inside me. After a few minutes of this fondling, I bring my legs from underneath me, and then lie back. With one hand running the candle through my open mouth with tongue lapping it as it passes, my other hand is pulling my robes and exposing my breasts. Once I've uncovered my chest area, I move the candle and now I'm rubbing in the valley of my breasts. As I said, my audience are all watching with eyes on stalks, but it isn't only them who is getting excited, I can feel my hips lifting, and it isn't because I'm acting. My free hand pulls the hem up and then furiously tugs at the coarse material of the undergarments that nun's wear as knickers. They are obviously not meant to pull away quickly, but I find the wide legs give access to my pussy without the need to remove them. So with one hand pulling the material across, I bring the Santa down to meet my wet and wanting hole.

As I push it against my wet lips, I can feel the knobbly bumps digging into my pelvic bone structure. I rotate it around and lean it from side to side, but I begin to think this was not a wise choice. Then without warning, I feel a swelling as my pussy lips stretch over Santa's shoulders, and keep stretching as his big fat tummy and toy sack slide up inside me. I felt every bump and moulded feature of this novelty candle as it stretched and distorted the walls of my pussy. But as if on auto-pilot, I pushed it deep up inside until I'd only just got my fingertips holding the base. Then I began to alternately pull and push, sliding it in and out of my pussy. But far from, as you might expect, causing pain; every knobble caused a ripple of excitement, and each ripple built with the next to generate a wave of exhilarating pleasure.

This was no longer an act, and even if they'd all left the room right now, I'd have continued until my pussy erupted. But, of course, at this point in my little performance, nobody was about to go anywhere, they were all squatted around me with eyes on stalks. Especially my Gerry, I think the look of horror on his face when he saw me trying to work the Santa up my pussy, showed he was more frightened, than I'd been. But by now he was like the rest of them, staring as they revelled in my performance. It was around now when Graham gave Olaf the signal to start his act.

As Olaf loomed up alongside me standing there with his big baton held high, I guess the poor timid nun was supposed to let go of her candle or pull it out. But at the very least, she'd have closed her legs and tried to cover up. But I couldn't stop my fingers ramming poor old Santa up and down my chimney. So Olaf put his baton down and knelt along side me, and just began to use his hands to work my breasts. His lips came to mine, and our tongues intermingled. It wasn't the rape of an unwilling nun as they'd wanted, but I hadn't the power or will to resist, acting or otherwise.

So as Olaf gradually moved one of his hands down to my crotch, he took hold of the candle and relieved my hands of the task they had been busy with. So now with two free hands I began to release all the pins and buttons that held this silly habit in place, and with the help of Olaf free hands, gradually my body became naked. But without thinking about my actions, my hands then started work on the soldiers uniform Olaf was wearing, and again, between us, we gradually stripped him, without little Santa getting any respite at all. Hence by the time we were both naked and I caught sight of his magnificent errection, my poor little pussy was throbbing and pulsating wildly. 

Something I should explain; as before, even though I was one the main participants in this performance, a lot of what I'm now relating, especially the visual aspects of it, I only know from watching Graham's video afterwards. The only visuals I could actually see were Olaf and the faces of my audience, especially my poor Gerry.

But back to Olaf and I, as I'd said my pussy was pouting, and although I could feel the sensation, this was one thing the video showed in close-up, and also caused plenty of comment at the video showing later. But it wasn't just my pussy that demonstrated my arousal, my hips were also rhythmically lifting, and with each lift my knees would turn outwards, offering my pussy to this gigantic Adonis. 

It must have been obvious to all that I was ready, and as soon as Olaf removed the candle, he positioned himself in-between my legs, and as he looked me in the eyes, he asked,

"Are you ready?"

My mind and body were in total agreement, but my body got its answer in first. So as I heaved my hips forwards, impaling my pussy with his cock, I made the meaningless reply,

"Yes please."

But the word please hadn't left my lips before I started to sigh and moan as the pain of the pussy stretching began to overwhelm my consciousness,

"Oh ohh a. Ah uh urr. Oww oh fuck."

And with each successive thrust, my sighs got longer,

"Oohw ooh ooooh."

And then as he gradually picked up his pace and pushed deeper, the tone of my moans went higher,

"Ooh ooh fuck me ooooowh."

Going back to my Gerry's words of comfort; when he'd been trying to persuade me to have sex in the club; 'if it's too big it won't go in. You can only take what your pussy is made to take.' So being as my pussy was as turned-on and eager for action as it was possible to be, I might have expected it would have stretched to accommodate Olaf's cock within a few strokes. But although I now thought that to be the case, later viewing showed, even after three minutes of hard pushing, there was still a good three inches not being used!

My moans and sighs as I felt my pussy stretching to accept his size, gradually changed from expressions of the pain I was experiencing, to sighs of pleasure. And even though I realised at the time, this would upset my Gerry, these were feelings, I couldn't suppress.




Freebie Ch. 03



All of my stories include descriptions of sex scenes that could cause offence to some people. Please do not read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual material, or if you are under the legal age of consent for your own country. These stories are pure fiction and are not based on anyone living or deceased.

As this is now part three of my tale, I'm assuming you've read parts one & two, so you know how I got into the situation I find myself in at the moment. 

*

So some time later, maybe half an hour or so, I'm still lying face down on my bed sobbing, when I hear Gerry's voice as he stood in the doorway to my bedroom.

"Come-on Mary. You know I didn't mean it."

I lay there trying to totally ignore him. I could sense he was moving closer to the bed,

"Please babe. I'm sorry. I was angry, and I just lashed out without thinking."

He moved in closer still and I felt his hand resting on my back. He slowly moved it around in a gentle manner as he'd done many times in the past; stroking my shoulders, I guess he thought relieving the tension. This was nearly always his approach when he wanted to say sorry after we'd had some kind of fight.

I lay there for maybe fifteen minutes as he sat on the edge of the bed; and whilst his hand attempted to soak away my stress, he would occasionally speak soft words of apology to try to explain away his stupid behaviour. I have to admit; I was on the point of talking to him, even if only to give him a mouthful of abuse. But before I'd opened my mouth, there was a sound from downstairs,

"KNOCK KNOCK. KNOCK KNOCK."

It was someone at our front door, and as I felt Gerry getting to his feet he said,

"I'll go and see who it is."

I turned on my side and in an angry voice snapped,

"I don't care who it is, tell them to clear off!"

I listened carefully and as I heard the door downstairs opening, I then heard Gerry say,

"Oh, it's you."

Then I heard the reply, and even at this distance I could recognise Peter's voice.

"I've just come around to make sure Mary is alright."

"Yes she is. And she doesn't want to see anyone. So you can clear off and tell Mr Spencer we don't want him to call either."

"I've just come from Graham's office. There were two of his cronies with him, and they were bragging about fleecing you, and taking advantage of your wife. I just want to make sure she's ok."

"I've already told you. She's ok, so just go away and leave us alone."

"Ok. I don't want to interfere if I'm not needed. But please tell Mary, if she wants anything, advice, someone to talk to, or anything at all, she can call me day or night."

I didn't know at the time, Peter had handed Gerry his card at this moment, all I heard was a short pause before the front door slammed shut with a loud,

"BANG!"

All the time I'd been listening to Peter's voice, it had brought back such a warm feeling inside, and now as I heard the noise of the door being shut in his face, I felt instantly angry. I leapt from the bed and dashed to the front window, where I could see Peter closing our front gate and walking across the road to his car. I dashed onto the landing and down the stairs. As I was descending, Gerry had been about to start to come up,

"What's wrong?"

"Get out of my way you stupid idiot."

His face as I yelled at him changed from a look of concern to one of anger, but before I'd reached the bottom step he'd stepped back off the stairs and moved clear of my pathway to the door. I wrenched on the front door handle and as I swung the door open called out as loud as I could muster,

"PETER!"

He was at the other side of the road, and just on the point of getting into his car. He stopped and as he stood he looked back across to where I stood in the doorway.

I beckoned with my hand and called, not quite so loudly, but still shouting to make myself heard.

"Please. Come back, I want to talk to you."

He closed his car door and began to walk back towards where I stood. I turned around and looked back at Gerry and gave him a scowl that didn't needs words to show its meaning. He in turn, looking somewhat confused, asked,

"What? All I did was tell him to fuck-off. Like you told me to."

"Never mind what I said; the way I feel right now, I'd rather talk to him than you."

"Well fuck you then."

And with that Gerry stomped off and went into the living room.

I waited for Peter to arrive at the door and then said,

"Come on in. I'm sorry my husband was so rude to you."

As he walked past me and made his way towards our front room he replied,

"That's alright; I guess he was feeling more than a little angry after being cheated like that."

By now I was following him into the room and Gerry was again seated in his chair next to the TV, and again he'd got a can of beer in his hand. I was still angry with him, but now I was also burning with curiosity to know what Peter meant by his remark about Gerry being cheated.

After asking Peter to sit down I sat myself in the chair opposite both Peter and Gerry, and then I asked,

"Cheated? What do you mean?"

Peter looked across to Gerry, and then said cautiously,

"I'm not sure if I've spoken out of turn."

Then he looked at Gerry,

"Doesn't she know?"

Before Gerry could answer I again gave him a scowl as I asked,

"Know what? What the hell's going on?"

Gerry looked sheepishly in my direction as he said,

"It's nothing. I was going to tell you later."

Peter now looked uncomfortable as he said,

"Look I didn't come here to cause trouble; do you want me to go?"

I snapped my reply back,

"NO!"

It came out in a lot angrier tone than I'd wanted to use to my guest, so I instantly changed my tone of voice,

"Its not you I'm angry with. Once this rat has explained what he's been up to, I might need your shoulder to cry on."

And then I turned my head and as I pointedly glared at Gerry I said,

"Well? What's all this about you being cheated?"

Gerry then went on to tell me about the negotiations that had led up to the session with the two men, of course, you the reader already know what had taken place. And then Gerry finished his tale with a classic male excuse,

"And when you came down after those men had left, I was so angry with what they'd done to you, and how they'd only paid two hundred measly quid, I just lashed out at the first person I saw. I didn't mean to call you what I did, but I guess I just used the words they'd fed me earlier."

Peter looked quite confused,

"My god man, are you saying you not only persuaded your wife into going with two men to earn you money, but then hurled abuse at her once she'd done your bidding?"

Gerry had been looking quite guilty, but on hearing this rebuke, he turned instantly angry,

"You fucking butt out. She's my wife and what goes on between us is nothing to do with you."

I was already angry, so my flare-up was instant; I sprang to my feet and as I knocked the can of beer from his hand I blurted out,

"You drunken shit. I might be your wife now, but if you keep up this behaviour, I've a good mind to let your dirty minded boss send you to fucking jail. And don't think I'll be here waiting for you when you come out."

This obviously wasn't the kind of reaction Gerry expected as he sat himself up and took hold of my hands he begged,

"Hey Mary. I didn't mean anything. Come-on girl you know I love you. I just wanted to sort things out without, you know, outsiders interfering."

"Interfering? I invited Peter in because I can't talk to you these days. One minute you're acting like my pimp, and the next like a bloody holy inquisitor. If you can't say anything civilised, keep your mouth shut until Peter and I have finished talking." 

"Please Mary, just calm down."

"I am calm, but you butt out until I tell you. Otherwise I promise I will see you go to prison."

He looked genuinely scared, and I knew my words had really struck home. He pulled himself back into his chair, never even answered, but gestured that his lips were sealed.

I turned to Peter,

"Yes, that's exactly what he did. He asked me to have sex with those men because they were friends of Graham, and because he said we'd get two thousand pounds. I wouldn't have done it for the money alone, but I knew that Graham could still get Gerry in trouble with the police. And then when I came down after doing what he asked me to do, he called me... well you can guess what he called me, exactly what those dirty sods had told him to call me."

Gerry tried to explain himself,

"Please Mary, let me just explain."

"Don't bother."

Then Peter said,

"Look I know I'm an outsider here, and if you tell me I'm not in a position to say anything, then I'll understand."

I interrupted,

"No please. That was why I called you back in; I need someone from the outside, just to know I'm not going totally insane."

"Ok for what its worth, this is my opinion."

"Gerry messed-up at work. And don't get me wrong, we all make mistakes, its just some come home to roost with a lot heavier consequences than we expect."

He paused here, and then turning to me continued,

"Well that said, you were faced with a choice of seeing him go to jail, or doing something you wouldn't have otherwise considered. The incident at the night club could have netted you both a sum of money you hadn't at that point even dreamed of accruing. Now this time it was you who, dare I say it, screwed up. I know you did eventually agree to do the business, but it was after all, your delay, that caused the loss of what could have been a tidy sum of money. And then just to prove how fucked up your head was, you go and fuck the guy for free."

"But that's all water under the bridge now. But what you have to understand, in Gerry's mind, you've already shown him you have the potential for earning money. And let's not pretend, you've also demonstrated you don't exactly dislike the work."

I think as he'd said this he must have seen the look on my face.

"Hey don't look so offended, I'm not criticising. Now to today, Gerry isn't used to dealing with sharks like those two."

He was still looking directly at me when he asked,

"And be honest, if they'd paid the two grand you'd expected; you'd both be sitting down now trying to work out how to line up your next punter."

"Don't look so disappointed my dear. Its human nature. You've found something you've got a real talent for, and it pays well. Well it should do."

He now looked back towards Gerry,

"Now Gerry don't get me wrong lad. You're a good sort, and I know you mean well. But you aren't dealing with this situation as it should be dealt with."

Gerry went to speak, but I held my hand up indicating he should let Peter finish. I think I'd taken more criticism from Peter than I'd expected, and just wanted to let Gerry have a bit too even things up.

Peter continued,

"You see lad, your first priority should be to get Graham off your back."

"But..."

I interrupted Gerry before he'd hardly began to but in,

"Gerry! Let him finish!"

"As I was saying, we need to get some kind of document signed by Graham, which once signed, will prevent him from wielding this police matter over your head. I know it will involve Mary here doing the business again, but if she tells me her preferences, I'm sure I can guide Graham's mind into a direction where he thinks he's got her squirming, when in reality, she can just do what-ever, and then you'll be free of him."

Gerry couldn't restrain himself,

"Like what?"

"I don't know yet, I need to talk to Mary to see what she finds the most acceptable. But I'm not trying to pretend he'll go for anything that doesn't involve her having sex with someone."

"So why should you be the one to do the deal?"

"I'm not saying I should. That's for Mary to decide. But I will say this, I think I've got more experience in negotiations than you, and I for one wouldn't let any deal be influenced by getting two tickets to a football match."

Peter could see my look of curiosity, but Gerry just sat there silent. Then Peter said,

"Oh I see. That's something else you didn't mention?"

I snapped at Gerry,

"Come on, what's all this about ticket to the footy?"

"Its nothing, they just threw them in. It didn't make any difference to what happened."

Peter said,

"So Larry and James were just shooting their mouths off?"

This I took to be the names of the two men who'd been with me this morning; not exactly the right protocol to find out a man's name after the event. But I guess in my new profession, this was something I'd have to get used to; that is, if I even find out their names at all.

I turned to Peter,

"Ok being as you're the one stirring the shit pile, why don't you tell me about these bloody tickets?"

"I'm not trying to stir anything up. It was just when I met Graham. Larry and James were going on about Gerry as if he was some kind of moron. They say he point blank refused to let them double fuck you for two hundred quid, and then almost bit their hands off when they threw in two tickets to the game. The irony was, the tickets were freebies they'd been given by the security firm that just re-furbished the warehouse security cameras. And those were the very same security cameras that caught Gerry; getting you into this mess in the first place."

I looked across at Gerry as I said sympathetically,

"That's about typical for you lately; if it wasn't for shit luck, you'd have no luck at all."

I think this remark was taken as I intended it, and Gerry said in an apologetic tone,

"It wasn't like that honest. I really did think you'd kick-up a fuss as soon as they both started playing around with you at the same time."

"It's ok. I guess I should have told you before, just how far that perverted sod of a boss of yours had already pushed me."

And then I looked across at Peter,

"And for all his protective talk, he's no angel either."

Peter looked a little defensive as he came back with,

"That's not fair. I've never forced you into anything."

"No, but you didn't miss out on your chance to take advantage of me, no matter which hole was vacant."

Gerry looked surprised,

"What? He's fucked your arse as well?"

"Hey don't look so shocked. Ass fucking is almost as common as a pussy fuck these days. And ask her, she wasn't forced."

Gerry looked quite sad as he asked,

"Am I the only man in this town who hasn't fucked your arse?"

Peter could see my distaste at this kind of comment, and he answered before I got chance to speak,

"See lad, that's the kind of remark that kills the goose that lays the golden egg. She's done nothing wrong, and you should be supporting her, and making her feel good about her performance. Now come on tell her all that stuff about how much you love her, and less of this silly jealousy. If old Graham got one thing right; it was what he told you the other night."

Gerry asked,

"What was that?"

"That little girl has got more cunt than you or any other one man can satisfy."

On hearing this crude remark once again, I instantly covered my face with my hands as I coloured up bright red.

"No Mary. Don't take that as an insult. You're good. In fact I'll repeat what I said the other night, you fuck better than anyone I've ever been with; and that I can tell you, is no short list. Be proud of that pussy, if it's managed properly, Gerry can quit work, and both of you could make enough money in the next eight to ten years for you both to retire on a comfortable pension."

I couldn't be sure I understood what he was actually saying, and I guess Gerry was having the same problem. But he asked the first question,

"Are you saying she should become a prostitute?"

"What do you mean become one? She already is. What did you think those two men paid you two hundred quid for."

Gerry again flared up,

"You filthy sod."

He sprang to his feet and launched himself at Peter, who rose to intercept him, and being a far bigger build, just took hold of his wrists and restrained him as Gerry carried on slagging him off.

I got to my feet and took hold of one of Gerry's arms,

"Please Gerry. Stop it. I'm sure he wasn't trying to insult me."

Gerry shook his wrists free and slumped back into his chair,

"Fucking typical. I say something in anger, and I'm the anti-Christ. He calls you a hooker in cold blood, and you say its ok."

"But he's right. I am a hooker. A prostitute. A whore. It doesn't matter which word you use, I let those men do it to me for money."

Peter now had a big beaming smile on his face,

"Good girl. Now you Gerry; if you can accept it, and not get upset, then think of what this means."

Gerry reluctantly asked,

"I don't get it."

"Those men came here today prepared to pay up to five grand. They'd told Graham what they wanted to do, and he didn't think she'd go that far for less than that amount, if at all. But in the event, they got what they wanted, and they were only here for just..."

He shrugged his shoulders, then continued,

"I don't know; how long were they upstairs with her?"

Gerry replied,

"About twenty minutes at most."

"The pair of them were cock-a-hoop about getting to do the double. They'd only thought it would be an arse fuck; one at a time."

"Ok so they conned me, how was I to know what had been said before they got here?"

"That's my point; not only are you not in the right circles to know who will pay what amount, but you don't even know the value of the goods you're selling."

I spoke up, feeling more than a little used in their conversation,

"So that's all I am? Something to be sold to the highest bidder."

"It was your choice. Nobody was holding a gun to your head, or a knife to your throat. It wasn't even Graham using his blackmail to back you into a corner."

He paused for a second and then broke the silence,

"Don't feel bad about it. It's done, and you're none the worse for it. But think, you could have been five grand richer. Never mind about other people's opinions, it's yours, and you know how to use it; if you want to make a living from it, then that's your decision."

"So what are you saying, she should do this all the time, and I don't even need to go to work?"

"I'm not saying she should. But I'm saying if she wants to, then she has the natural talent. And if she gets handled properly, she'll only need to do it until she's around thirty, and by then you'll have so much money invested, neither of you will need to work for the rest of your lives."

"Bull-shit."

"I'm not kidding you. But it will only workout that way if you spend carefully, and invest every spare penny. It has to be managed and planned."

"Ah. Now I get it. She fucks all your mates, we get a pittance to live on, and you fuck-off with all the money. Fuck you! Do I look that stupid?"

"Well from where I'm sitting, if you're not stupid, you're a good actor."

Gerry again sprang to his feet, and Peter again countered him, holding him as they danced around the room.

"Pack it up. It's my life you pair are talking about. Don't I get to have an opinion?"

As Gerry begrudgingly returned to his seat I said,

"It's no good Peter; I couldn't do that for a living."

"Please Mary. Think about it. If I'd arranged those men this morning, you'd now have earned Gerry's normal weekly wage, and been able to put four-thousand four-hundred pounds into a high interest no tax investment account. And it took you twenty minutes! If I only find you say five or ten tricks a week, you'll be on the same kind of money as a premiere league footballer. Now I'm sure that's putting it in terms even Gerry can understand."

I thought that remark would again antagonise Gerry, but when I looked across to where he was sitting, it clearly hadn't; I think the penny had now dropped, and Peter's ideas must have sunk in, because instead of anger, there was an excited enthusiasm in his voice,




Freebie Ch. 03



"Are you sure she could earn that kind of money?"

"Maybe not for the first few months, but it one of those things, the newer she is and the less people know about her, the juicer the pretence, and the higher the price per session. But of course, if not many people know about her, then she won't get many customers. Then come the glory days, when she gets a hot reputation, and everyone wants to have a slice of the action; during that time the price is high, and I can get as many as she's willing to take. That's where she can make the bulk of her money. But we have to be careful how we play that; otherwise she'll loose the fresh appeal. Once that happens it's up to you whether you want to call it quits, or just move into another part of the market to boost your bank balance before calling it a day."

Gerry was on the edge of his seat listening intently, now obviously taken by the idea, and then he asked,

"How come you think you know so much about this kind of thing?"

"I'm in the hiring end of advertising. And in our business, the money to be earned by the, so called actors and actresses is good. But most runs of an advert are not repeated. I know there have been some that keep using the same old face, but they're the exception. Usually we don't want any particular face to become associated with the product, so it's very much a one shoot and goodbye. If they're lucky we'll use the same face again for a few more different customers' lines, but very soon the work dries up. With the men I don't even get involved, and never see most of them again. But a girl whose face is appearing regularly on TV, even if it is only five seconds of loading a dishwasher or selling insurance; she has a short but lucrative earning window. And as I say, by the time their adverts are out in the public eye, most of them are struggling to find work. I can always find a customer to keep them in the luxury to which they've become accustomed. And once their glory days run out, if they still want work, there is lots of low-end porn. So being as I said to Mary, 'it's no good her pretending she's something she's not'. Then neither will I, as far as these girls are concerned, I'm their pimp."

"How many girls do you look after?"

"Difficult to put a number on. There's about ten or fifteen high-end girls, ones whose adverts are still in peoples minds. About twenty or so who get the odd good earner, but rely mostly on porno, either film or club acts. Then I've got twenty girls in a block of flats, but they're just straight pay-for-fuck at fifty quid a go."

"So this is your real job, and that rubbish about advertising is just a cover?"

"No, this is the sideline. Call it a hobby."

"But one that pays good money?"

"I'm not short of a bob or two, but then I wouldn't be destitute if I only had my advertising, that's good for seventy-five grand a year. So like I said, this is just something I enjoy, that also pays well."

"So if I let you look after Mary, what's your cut?"

"I'm not sure how much you know about running whores, but I think you'll probably know the normal split doesn't favour the girl."

"So what's normal?"

"The fifty quid a go girls get a fiver a fuck."

"So you take forty-five quid for doing nothing?"

"Not nothing. They get a place to operate from, with built-in security. If they could do better elsewhere, they'd leave."

"Well don't think you're getting that cut from my wife."

I broke up their cosy chat,

"I think you're both getting the cart before the horse."

As they turned and looked quizzically, I continued,

"I'm not doing it."

Peter added,

"She's right, we haven't reached the point where we discus who gets what cut. Lets just workout how to get Graham off your backs. All the rest can wait."

Gerry responded first,

"Have you any ideas on that score?"

He asked looking at Peter. But before Peter replied, I spoke up,

"I'm wondering if our best idea would be to just find ourselves a solicitor."

Peter took up the conversation,

"I can see why you would say that, and of course, it is your choice. After all you're the driver, and even if Gerry is your husband, in this respect, we're both passengers along for the ride. So if that's what you want to do its fine by me, and I won't try to talk you out of it. But before you go off half cocked, let me just run through what you'd be letting yourself into."

I interrupted,

"Oh I know all that stuff about being dragged through the courts and our friends and family finding out. But at least it would be over one way or the other."

Gerry butted in,

"That's the problem. It might be over for you, but think about me. At best, like you just said everyone will know, I'll loose my job and have difficulty finding another, and even if they don't send me down it'll be a hefty fine. But if it goes the other way, and you've already said about the way my lucks running, they'll send me down for twenty to thirty years."

Peter again continued,

"You're both right to some extent, but let me just explain something else. You go to a solicitor first; he then has to employ a barrister. Now to get a good brief, costs real money. I'd guess if you want to keep Gerry out of prison, you'd be paying the best part of thirty grand just for the legal team. From what Graham says, the total cost of the false insurance claims are very substantial, so the fine won't be lower than ten grand, and could be a lot higher. So unless you have rich relatives or money stashed away I don't know about, I can only think of one way you can get that kind of money. But there is another way. We could just persuade Graham to sign a disclaimer."

I answered,

"No. I know you think you have all the answers, but blackmailers don't give up. And all that stuff about legal costs is just you trying to frighten me. I know we could get free legal aid, that way it won't cost a penny."

Peter laughed,

"Ha ha ha. Legal aid! How do you know so much about these matters?"

"I've seen programs on TV."

"Well unlike TV, blackmailers are just people who think they've got the upper hand, you just need to outwit them. And yes you can get legal aid, but I guarantee if you go down that route, Gerry will be middle-aged before you see him again. But I've said my piece. And if that's your choice, it's nothing to do with me. If you have a change of heart, Gerry's got my card."

At that he rose to his feet, but before he'd moved Gerry said,

"Hey, don't go just yet."

"I'm sorry lad, but it's not my place to push your little lady into a life she isn't happy with."

"But you said we could get Mr Spencer off our backs another way; what did you mean?"

Still standing he replied,

"Mary knows what Graham's first proposal was."

With that he looked at me.

I blushed, but said nothing. Gerry said,

"Well come on, am I the only one who doesn't know what's going on?"

"But you do lad, she refused him the first time. And then he brought you into the game to win her around."

"What, not that thing about modelling the knickers from your catalogue?"

"That was it."

"For fucks sake Mary. You'd send me to prison, rather than flash your fanny in his kinky knickers."

"You don't understand. I've done that and more already, and we're still no nearer getting your situation over with. What ever I do that man will just keep asking for more and more."

At this point I actually broke down and began to sob. Not hysterically, but I just felt so sad and helpless, as if I was on a never ending spiral downwards. Now you might think Gerry would be the one to sit alongside me, wrap his arm around my shoulder and say,

"Come-on love. I know it's been hard for you. But I promise I'll make sure that bastard doesn't control you again."

But no, it was Peter whose neck I now buried my head into and sobbed.

Gerry asked,

"So what's your plan to get Mr Spencer off our backs?"

Peter replied in a soft voice,

"Not now lad. Let her have a little cry. Once she's got it out of her system, they'll be plenty time to discuss tactics."

So that was it, Gerry sat there silently as I sobbed on the chest of what to all intents was a perfect stranger. How long we would have stopped there like that I'm not sure, but after about ten minutes the phone started ringing, and Gerry got up and answered it. 

"Hello."

"Ah Gerry lad."

"Oh. Hi Mr Spencer."

"I was just calling to make sure you were in. I'm coming around to see you about tonight."

"Tonight? Why what's happening tonight?"

"I'm going to meet some friends, and I want your little lady to accompany me. I need to give her the details, and make sure she's ready for the hairdresser and beautician when they arrive later. Anyway, I'll be there in about thirty minutes and I'll explain everything."

We of course, didn't hear Graham's end of the conversation, but even while he was on the phone, I'd sat up and was waiting to find out what Graham wanted. So as soon as he'd put the phone down, I asked,

"What's he on about tonight?"

"He's coming around now, to tell you all about it."

"About what?"

"He wants you to go with him tonight to meet some of his friends, and he's arranged for a hairdresser and beautician to come here this afternoon."

"Oh my god!"

And as I let out my cry of desperation I again started to sob as I buried my head back into Peter's chest.

He gently eased me from his chest, and using one hand to wipe the hair from my tear soaked face, he said softly,

"Come on. Let's not let him get the upper hand. We haven't got long, have you got a PC."

Gerry answered,

"Yes, and it's got the latest graphics card, so it can handle just about any of the latest games."

"So long as you've got word or some other kind of word processor, I don't think we've got time for games."

I looked up at Peter and through my tears mumbled,

"What are you going to do?"

He helped me to my feet and we followed Gerry into the back room, by the time we got there, he had already fired up the PC. As we waited for it to boot, Peter said to me,

"Now you can't let Graham know I'm involved. And he already knows Gerry's capabilities, so when he arrives, this will all have been your idea. Ok, just give me a few minutes, and I'll see what I can come up with."

Gerry and I stood silently behind Peter as he tapped away on the keyboard. After a few minutes, he'd finished the document, and the printer burst into life. This was the text he'd written.

To whom it may concern.

I G.W.Spencer do affirm that G.Kendal, being my employee was working under my instructions in the testing of a comprehensive security installation. This work involved a simulation of warehouse stock damage. Looting or, and stealing of the same. Filling in false insurance claim forms for the same. Distribution of the same amongst other employees. And loading of the same stolen goods into his own private transport.

Therefore any recorded material, audio or video, on whatever format, purporting to show this kind of activity, is not to be taken as evidence of any crime or misdemeanour. 

Mr G.Kendal, is a trusted employee, who has my full confidence.

I am sorry that he has decided to move on to a new position with another company, but I wish him well in his new endeavour, and can assure any new employer that he will be getting a first class worker who can be trusted implicitly.

G.W.Spencer

As he handed the paper to me he said,

"Right now once that's signed by Graham, put it somewhere safe until you see me, and I'll get my legal boys to ratify it, and file it away."

I could feel such an overwhelming surge of appreciation building as I read the words and began to think this would maybe secure my freedom. And as Peter handed the paper to me, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and smothered him with kisses. As I kissed like a silly child showing gratitude for a Christmas present, I could feel Peter's hands gradually applying more pressure, trying to prise me from himself. Then when he managed to get his face out of reach of mine, he said,

"Come-on. I appreciate your gratitude, but we really haven't got time for this."

As I realised how silly my behaviour was, I blushed and as I backed away, said shyly,

"Sorry."

"That's ok, and maybe some time soon, if you still feel that way, you can show me properly. But right now, you have to decide what you want to offer Graham to get him to sign, and how we can manoeuvre him into doing what you want. Now our starting point has to be the two options he has already given you, but that's not to say he'll go for them now."

Gerry asked,

"Two options, I thought there was only one."

"Well I'm afraid that before he involved you, he'd already been trying to get your little lady to come across with her goodies, still using your prison stretch as the stick. But your little lady refused him, and told him to get lost. It was then he threatened you directly, and it was you who persuaded her to cooperate."

"So if posing in your sexy knickers was one option, what was the other?"

"He said if she'd fuck both him and me; that would be debt paid."

Gerry's face was at first a scowl, and then suddenly it changed into a big smile,

"That's it!"

"What's it?"

"Don't you see? She's already let you and Graham do it the other night, remember you phoned me from that hotel room."

"It's not something I'm likely to forget. But that's been and gone. If you'd had the sense to write out something before then, he'd have signed that night to get her to fuck. But now, it's water under the bridge."

"I see, so either she poses in your stuff, or you get to fuck her again. Seems like you win all around."

"Stop getting distracted from who your real threat is. If you don't decide on your strategy soon, it will be too late. If he knows I'm helping you, he won't go for it at all."

I could see Peter was right,

"Come on Gerry, it doesn't matter if he gets something out of it. All we want is to get that prison threat lifted. And as far as I'm concerned, as soon as possible."

"Ok, but why don't you just do the modelling of his undies, at least that way it doesn't involve having sex with anyone?"

"No, but Graham wanted me to do ten different sessions of that. And even if I do one every night, that still means ten days of being under his threat."

"So are you saying you want Mr Spencer and this guy to fuck you again?"

"If you want to put it that way; then yes. I'd rather have them do it and get it over with, and then we can get back to our normal life."

At this point Peter spoke up,

"I think she's got a point Gerry, Graham wouldn't sign anything until she's done all ten parties, and until then, he can keep coming back and manipulating her into doing other things."

"You're biased. All you want is to get back into her knickers."

"Well we're running out of time, if I don't move my car soon, he'll be here and then this scam won't work whichever route we follow. Hang on."

He paused for a split second,

"He's just been talking with those two earlier, and so I'll bet he's all fired-up and wanting to try you out with a double fuck."

Gerry burst out,

"Well he's out of luck."

"No don't be so hasty. What if I can somehow persuade him to double fuck her, but with you and him being the two men."

"What you won't get involved at all?"

"Hang on I haven't got this clear in my mind yet."

There was a pause, and then Peter said,

"Right Mary, you know what he's like, if he thinks you want something, that's the last thing he'll go for. So you need to keep pushing for the ten panty parties. I'll go now, and then I'll phone him, and ask him if there's any chance he can set you up for a double penetration session. But I'll tell him I can't make it until tomorrow. When he tells me he's too horny to wait until then, and that he's already either here, or on his way. I'll suggest he double fucks you with Gerry. That will really appeal to his warped sense of humour."

He looked at Gerry,

"If you show your disgust at the suggestion; that will make him all the more determined."

Gerry asked sarcastically,

"So what do you get out of it?"

"I told you, I'm not your enemy; concentrate on getting Graham off your back."

Then he looked at me,

"Will you be able to do this cold, or do you want one of these?"

He was holding out a little yellow pill. I took it from him, and immediately slipped it in my mouth, and picking up the remains of a cold cup of coffee from the table, swigged it down, making sure the pill was gone.

Gerry stammered,

"What in gods name was that?"

I answered,

"Mothers little helper."

He looked at Peter,

"What was it?"

"Nothing to worry about. But it'll help her relax. Now I'd better go. And the form for him to sign, don't even mention it until his already stripping off, and at the point where you know he isn't about to stop. But for gods sake make sure he signs before his fucked you. Right I'm gone."

As he got to his feet I again went over to him, and reaching up as high as I could, I put my hand around his neck, pulled myself up, and planted a big juicy wet kiss. Not just on his lips, but I pushed my tongue deep into his mouth. During those few moments as I hung from his neck, with our bodies pressed tightly together, I not only felt his cock stiffen as it pressed against my tummy, I also felt a turmoil in there, one I now recognise as a prelude to my arousal. Gerry was stood at my side watching, and I guess his tolerance ran out. He reached up behind Peter's neck, pulled my hands loose and as I dropped back to the floor, he said,

"Enough of that, I thought you were in a hurry."

Peter replied,

"He's right; just do your best to make it work."

With that he turned and was on his way. Gerry went on about the pill I'd taken, but I told him we hadn't got time right now, so he let it drop. We put the paper Peter had printed out of sight, and waited. As it was Peter and I could have continued that kiss for at least another ten minutes, as it was a good fifteen minutes before Graham knocked at our door. Mind you, its maybe a good thing Gerry interrupted us when he did, otherwise, left to my own devices, I'd have probably have been riding his cock at this moment. But day-dreaming aside; back to Graham's arrival.

As he waltzed in our front room, with all the swagger of someone who feels in control, he said,

"Are Gerry lad, I've been hearing good things about you."

"Me? What have I done?"

"This morning. My two business partners."

Then he winked and nodded towards me,

"Your little lady."

Gerry's response even took me by surprise,

"Those bastards! If they come here again, I'll fucking kill them."

Graham looked shocked,

"Why Gerry lad. What did they do?"

"Did you really send them?"

"Well yes. But I thought you might appreciate the money."

"Money! They came in, saying you'd told them to tell me I had to let both of them have sex with Mary. I said no, but they said you'd hand over your evidence to the police if I didn't cooperate. I said I would phone you to make sure it was really your orders. They again said, no, saying if I did, you'd shop me to the police." 

"So what happened?"

"They took Mary upstairs, both of them at the same time."

"You went with them?"

"No they wouldn't let me. When they came down, they each threw me five twenty pound notes. And one of them also chucked two tickets to the football match, saying. 'Here, they're no good to me now the blues are out of the running'."

"So you're angry with them for only paying two hundred?"

"No. It isn't just that, it was what they did to Mary. They forced her to... oh shit, I can't even say it."

His acting almost convinced me, and I knew the truth. But as he hesitated and covered his face with his hands, I continued,




Freebie Ch. 03



"One of them held me while the other took me from behind, and once he was in me, he held me tight, while the first man took me from the front."

Now it was Graham, who started acting,

"You mean they both fucked you at the same time?"

Gerry answered, and not in his usual submissive tone,

"YES! And there's no need to be crude about it."

"Now now Gerry lad; lets not forget about your warehouse activities."

"How can I, but I'd have thought with all Mary's been through, that debt would have been settled by now."

"I'm not sure it's her who has been through anything; it's more the other way around."

"The other way around? What do you mean?"

"I thought it was more a case of all the men who've been through Mary."

And as he said this he gave a dirty laugh,

"Ha ha,"

"You dirty sod."

"Less of that my boy, I still have the evidence to get you put away."

"That's my point. You've just said in your crude way, she's already done it for you with more than one man. She must have paid off the debt?"

"Well now lad, she hasn't done any of the lingerie parties yet."

Just as he was speaking his mobile phone started ringing in his pocket.

"Hang on; I'll just see who this is."

As he looked at the screen on his phone a smile appeared on his face, and the phone went up to his ear,

"Hi Pete old mate. I was just thinking about you."

"I was just ringing to ask a favour."

"Course mate, just name it."

"That bit of skirt you've got jumping through hoops, I've been thinking about what Larry and James did with her this morning, and I can't get it out of my head. I was thinking that maybe instead of getting her to do those undies demos for me, how about arranging a double fuck for some time tomorrow?"

"I'm with her right now; can't you get straight over here?"

"No can do today."

"Are you sure you can't make it, now you've sown the idea in my head, I quite fancy doing it now."

"Well go for it."

"But who with, I've already got a stiffy and its getting worse as we speak."

"What about that creep of a husband. I would have thought getting him to partner you would have appealed to your warped sense of humour."

"Shit yes. That's it. Thanks for the idea, call you later once I've done the dirty."

We obviously didn't hear Peter's end of the conversation, but we assumed he was trying to steer Graham towards what we'd already talked about. As Graham folded his phone and slipped it in his pocket, he said,

"That was Peter."

Gerry asked,

"The advertising man from the knickers firm?"

"That's him."

"So did you make arrangements for Mary to model his stuff, so we can call it debt paid?"

"Not that simple."

"Why, she's agreed to do it for him."

"Maybe, but he's not sure he wants it modelled anymore."

I then pleaded,

"Look I know you've got me over a barrel, but I can't take this day after day. If he doesn't want the modelling doing, isn't there any other way we can get this sorted?"

"Well maybe."

He looked at me as he asked,

"I take it you didn't like the idea of two men fucking you at the same time?"

"No."

And then using the most sarcastic tone I could muster,

"Why, do you think that's some sort of treat?"

He then looked at Gerry,

"And you, have you ever fucked her up the arse?"

"Of course not."

Graham looked at Gerry,

"Ok I've got a proposition for you. We all go up to your bedroom, and me and your little lady will get comfortable. Once I've got her all juiced-up, I want you on your back on the bed. If you ain't hard, it'll be up to her to get you there. And then once you're ready for action, I want her to drop her snatch onto your dick, and I'll give her the arse fucking of a lifetime."

"You might as well go now."

"What are you telling me you'd rather go to jail?"

"You know I don't want jail, but there are some things I won't do."

"You'll regret it."

I could see what Gerry was doing, but I thought it was now about time to let Graham think he was calling the shots,

"Look Mr Spencer. Gerry isn't trying to be difficult, but it seems we keep doing what ever you say, and we're no nearer getting this debt to you paid. If. I'm not saying I will, but if we do let you do as you've just said, and Gerry does... you know, join in with you. Will that completely settle our debt?"

"Maybe."

Gerry took over,

"This is pointless. If you're just going to keep stringing us along, then it might as well end here. Go to the police and get it over with."

"Don't be so hasty. I said maybe."

I asked,

"So what is it that will make it a definite?"

"Now let me see. What about if once we get upstairs, Gerry takes your clothes off for me, and then he holds your legs open as I get on the bed and start fucking you. And then once I get you going, we'll just follow the plan I laid out a minute a go."

Gerry spoke up,

"No way am I preparing my own wife for you to fuck. And I don't care what you say; I'm not having sex with her at the same time as you."

"But Gerry, if he agrees this is the last thing we need to do, and all your problems are over."

I then looked up to Graham,

"That is what you're saying; if we do this it is all over?"

"I guess so."

"Please Gerry, I know you don't want to, and god knows neither do I, but if Graham rights-off the debt, slate clean, then please let's just do it."

"Ok, but this is the last time."

Graham had a smug little smile on his face as he said,

"Come on then get your little lady up those stairs, I want to see you preparing her for me."

We all trouped up to the bedroom, and Graham took the seat by my dressing table whilst Gerry began to remove my clothing. As he released the clip on my bra, Graham said,

"That's it Gerry lad let's see her tits hanging free."

Gerry continued without comment, and then put his fingers into the waist band of my panties. As he started to peel them down my legs, Graham again goaded,

"Good lad, now we can see that little bald snatch."

Once I was naked I stepped back and as I sat onto the bed, swung my legs around and lay down full stretch on my back. As Gerry lifted my legs open, Graham came up behind him,

"Ok lad, get your face down there and juice it up ready for my dick."

Gerry buried his face into my crotch, and his tongue began to lick and flick around my pussy slit, and he gave my mound the occasional chew. Over this last hour, the little yellow pill had been slowly taking effect, so my body had been gradually preparing itself for an inevitable sex session. And not being totally sure of what that session would entail, only served to heighten this arousal. So as Gerry's mouth worked my pussy, and my eyes trained on Graham who was by now naked, and working his cock up ready for action, my hips began their self propelled heaving motion.

By now Graham was stood there with a proud look on his face and his stiff cock in his hand,

"Ok lad, lift her legs up, and hold them as wide as you can. She's got to make room for this little beauty of mine."

Gerry followed instructions, and up went my ankles, and with him stood at the side of the bed, he lent over the top of me and stretched my legs open wide. As Graham positioned himself in between my legs and lowered his cock into line with my pussy, I looked up to Gerry to see if he was coping with the situation. To my surprise, his eyes were not weepy or diverted from the action. But instead, they were out on stalks, watching Graham's cock as it pushed up into my pussy. I then diverted my gaze to Gerry's pants, and his cock was so aroused, it was sticking out like a centre pole holding up a circus tent.

So as Graham got into his stride, and I started to give in to my arousal, I suddenly remembered the document graham was supposed to sign. I knew I wanted to stop him, to make sure we got his signature, but on my first attempt, no words left my lips. I remember thrashing my arms about trying to get Gerry's attention. But this was fruitless. Then I tried kicking to see if I could break my legs free. This was also to no avail. I swallowed and tried to cry out again, and still all I got was a pathetic sigh, like a dying person's last breath.

But just then Gerry looked my way and said,

"Stop kicking you silly bitch."

My head reeled, and I couldn't believe my ears. He was deeper into a trance than I was, and it was as if it was some kind of game or roll play. But what ever it was, it was his oblivion to my plight, which brought my voice back under my control. As I let fly this time, I was that loud, I almost scared myself,

"GERRY. STOP HIM."

Graham didn't flinch; he just kept pumping his stiff shaft deep up inside my pussy. But Gerry shook, and then reality must have kicked-in.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Stop him. Put my legs down. He hasn't signed the form."

The next few minutes were almost a comedy situation, me thrashing around, Gerry trying to pull Graham free, and Graham just steaming ahead as if on auto-pilot. But eventually, maybe after a minute or so, grahams cock slipped out, more I think due to my thrashing around than Gerry's tugging. But between us, the fuck was actually halted. Graham looked none to pleased, and snarled.

"What the fucks going on?"

I said to Gerry,

"Get that piece of paper from my dresser."

Gerry brought the paper and gave it to Graham.

"What the fucks this? Couldn't it have waited to we'd finished?"

I replied,

"No it couldn't. You said this would be the last time, and I want you to sign that to make sure it is."

He read it and then said,

"Where did you get this shit from?"

"I wrote it."

He threw it on the floor,

"It's all crap. It isn't worth the paper it's written on. Now get her legs back up. Before I do it myself."

I pulled myself up to the head of the bed and said,

"If it's all crap, it won't hurt you to sign it."

"Stop fucking me around. Get back down here before I get rough."

Gerry had stepped back, taken hold of my dresser chair, and he held it over his head as he said,

"You move towards her and I'll break this over your head."

"Put that down you stupid fool. Where do you think you are in some western saloon?"

"I'm warning you, if you so much as lean towards her, I'll fucking do it."

He looked down at the paper on the floor where he'd thrown it,

"Ok, I'm just going to pick this up."

He took hold of the paper and read it again.

"It's like I said, pure shit. Even if I sign it; it wouldn't stand up in a court of law."

I again spoke,

"So sign it and you can have your fuck."

As I said the last bit, still well out of his reach, I spread my knees open and flashed my wet and juicy pussy at him.

"Where's the pen?"

"Get him a pen Gerry."

"I can't put this chair down until he's signed."

"I think you can, I don't think he'd like you to break it over his back while he is busy ramming my pussy. I think he knows a normal household chair would hurt more than the stunt chairs in his western movies."

Gerry slowly put down his chair, and graham didn't try to make any advances. So when Gerry handed him the pen he signed it.

"Ok, now are you happy?"

"Oh yes."

At this I pushed myself down the bed towards him, lifted my legs high in the air, and let them fall wide open. As graham looked down at my glistening pussy, I said to Gerry,

"Make sure you put that somewhere safe, I don't want him getting any ideas about destroying it."

Then looking down at Graham through the 'V' formed by my legs, I said,

"Come on then, let's see how well you and my Gerry can work as a team."

I could see my eagerness wasn't the reaction Graham wanted, but even if his gut reaction would have been to try some other route to humiliate me, his ardour got the better of him. He was back on top of me, and thrusting his cock for all he was worth. Not I hasten to add at a mad pace, but never the less, his purposeful long strokes were delivered with an almost vengeful force. But if this action was in any way designed to intimidate or worry me, he couldn't have been wider of the mark. As each thrust neared the end of its stroke, my hips would lift, bringing my crotch into contact with his groin in a squelchy collision. He rammed me in this manner for a good five to ten minutes, and I began to think he'd forgotten about his original intention involving Gerry.

While this thought was milling through my head, I felt him grip me tightly to his body, and with his cock firmly deep up inside me, he rolled over on the bed, settling on his back, with me above him. Then as he released his grip, I took my weight with my knees either side of him, and continued the fuck, keeping to his long and deliberate strokes, and ending each one with my whole weight forcing myself down onto his cock. His attention however seemed momentarily distracted, and there wasn't any deliberate attempt on his part to deliver a simultaneous push.

As I opened my eyes I could see his gaze was also diverted, and I looked in the direction of his attention. Gerry was just at the point of stepping from his boxer-shorts, and his cock was as big, if not bigger than I'd ever seen it. To say he was aroused would be an understatement. Graham called across to him,

"Come on then. I'll hold her while you work it up her arse."

Gerry couldn't wait, and in seconds he was on the bed behind me, and his cock began to push at my bottom.

Now I know I was well and truly arouse, but Gerry didn't even rub the end of his cock around in the surplus amount of my sticky juices. He just pushed. Even though I was well worked up and willing to take it, it didn't even enter. I felt the pain as he about ripped my flesh, and instinctively let out a yell,

"CHRIST! Gerry."

Graham must have instantly known what was wrong; I guess you can put that down to his experience in these things. He said to Gerry,

"For gods sake lad, wet it up a bit. If you rip her arse she won't be worth fucking."

And then Graham did something I didn't expect. He withdrew his cock completely from my pussy, and then said,

"Go on lad, get it in there and juice it up a bit."

Gerry was instantly up in my pussy, and bashing like a mad dog with only seconds to live. Graham spoke again,

"Take your time, and while you're wetting your dick, use your fingers to get some of her snatch juices into her arse."

I never thought I'd be grateful to Graham, especially for him giving sex instructions to my own husband.

But Gerry followed instructions, and when he next pushed his cock at my bottom, I got that wonderful surge of exhilaration that I'd come to expect from this experience. But then Graham re-entered my pussy, and with the addition of this extra cock, and the stretching this caused, it took the stimulation onto a higher plain. Now all the anxiety of getting Graham to sign or question over Gerry's willingness to take part, was over, I just let myself drift off into the land of lust. Between them ramming my body from different direction and at different paces, and my own uncontrollable humping motion, the very essence of my being was aflame with passion. 

They fucked me in this manner for maybe five minutes, before, at Graham's command, it was all change. I now had Gerry underneath me, and he just resumed his fucking of my pussy, but with an eagerness I'd not felt from him for a very long time. Graham was on his knees, and pushing his cock at my bottom. Once it entered, he didn't just ram it up hard, but started with his slow strokes, and then gradually increased the pace. So now as they both resumed their individual rhythms, we set forth on the next, and as it was to be final stage of this session. I have to say at this point, the fact that my husband was one of my two partners didn't in anyway influence my behaviour or even my pleasure. At this stage of the action, it could have been any two men; not that I'd admit that to Gerry. 

Although I guess over time it must have become obvious to Gerry, that this method of having sex, (two men), would become my favourite. It didn't matter whether they took turns at my pussy or use my bottom or throat. Over time, I've come to believe, once there are more than two men involved, they loose that personal touch and tenderness which is so important to put you at your ease. And one man by himself can rarely give the overall stimulation. These statements are like any generalisation, not cast in stone, and you never know at the outset of any encounter, just how good it will be.

But back to these two, Graham and my husband. I felt Graham was still attempting to make his action as aggressive as possible, but as my body was in full fuck mode, the harder he pounded the more I liked it. Whereas my Gerry was fucking deeper and harder than I'd ever known, and I don't think it was deliberate, I just think he was so turned on. I even think he had forgotten it was his own wife he was fucking. As they both fucked, neither of them diverted any of their attention towards simultaneously fondling or exciting any other part of my body. Gerry's hands were on my waist as I rode on top of him. And Graham had one arm down by my side taking his weight, whilst gripping a handful of my hair with the other.

I was surprised that Gerry managed to keep up this action for so long without shooting his cum, but in the event, after maybe five minutes of this last position, he was the first to cum. As I detected his jerky movements, my own orgasm just erupted, not as the result of a conscious decision, just an automatic response to the feeling in my pussy. Once my pussy actions started, I assume either my bottom had also started to pulse, or the reverberation from my pussy must have reached Graham in my bottom. But what ever was the cause, my pussy had only just started to pulse, when Graham about ripped the handful of hair from my head as he rammed so hard, shooting his cum deep up inside my bottom.

From that point I just went to dream land while they finished delivering there cum. Once they'd finished, they left me on the bed still moaning and writhing around. Gerry said it took a good five minutes before I came to my senses, but that it appears is now normal for me. When I got downstairs after my shower, Graham had left, and Gerry asked,

"Are you ok?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"I guess so. But I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine by me. Have you got that paper he signed put away somewhere safe?"

"Yes for all the good it is."

"What do you mean?"

"Mr Spencer said we might as well rip it up and burn it. He says if he calls the police, they'll laugh if we show them that. He recons it has no legal standing at all."

"I'll bet he does. But I hope you didn't fall for that and let him get hold of it?"

"No. I knew you'd blow-up if I did that. But he says you need to stop in this afternoon, he's got a hairdresser and beautician coming here to give you the once over ready for tonight."

"What. And you didn't tell him to go and get stuffed?"

"No way. I don't think he's kidding about that stupid paper, and it isn't worth risking him going to the police."

"What so you're expecting me to go with him tonight."

"We have to. It's not worth risking everything; all he wants you to do, is go to some dinner function as his guest. It's not like he wants you to do sex or anything."

"You're so gullible. Where's that card Peter gave you?"

He reached into his inside pocket and gave me the card he pulled from it. I went to the phone and rang Peter's number.

"Hello. Is that you Peter?"

"Yes. Is that Mary?"

"Yes, Graham's just left."

"Did he sign the paper?"

"Yes. But he said..."

Peter interrupted,

"Never mind what he said, you've got the signed paper there?"

"Yes."

"I'll be right over. See you in about twenty minutes."

As soon as I put the phone down Gerry asked,

"Well what did he say?"




Freebie Ch. 04



All of my stories include descriptions of sex scenes that could cause offence to some people. Please do not read this story if you are offended by perverse sexual material, or if you are under the legal age of consent for your own country. These stories are pure fiction and are not based on anyone living or deceased.

As this is now part four of my tale, I'm assuming you've read parts one to three, so you know how I got into the situation I find myself in at the moment. 



I dreamt that night, and I'm sure you won't be surprised if I tell you Trav featured very strongly in my dreams. It wasn't, however, a dream of sex and lust, but more a romantic journey with him at my side, protecting and guiding me through some magical garden. The details are long since faded from my memory, and even at the time I first recalled them the next morning, didn't actually make sense. But I know I thought a lot about Trav in those next few days.

But back to reality, and the true reality on the next morning was answering the phone to Graham at around ten in the morning, Gerry was still in bed.

"4 3 6 5 8 7."

"Hello, its Graham. I'm just ringing to find out how last night went."

Just hearing his voice sent a shiver of rage down my spine, but I tried to be polite even if I didn't want to talk to him.

"Oh, it was nice thank you. And thank you for letting us borrow your car and driver."

"That's alright my dear. You know I'd do anything for you. A little dickybird tells me you also did well at the dancing?"

"Yes. I won the first prize."

"So my dear, I wonder if I could ask you a favour?"

This I didn't want to hear, I knew he'd pretend it was something innocent, and I'd end-up being in another situation.

"I'm not sure. What is it you want?"

"Oh I see. You don't mind receiving favours, but you don't like repaying them. In that case, I'll say goodbye."

Even as I first heard the tone of his voice, I began to feel ashamed of my reaction, but by the time he'd finished speaking I felt so guilty, I just blurted out,

"No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. Just tell me what it is you want."

Why oh why was I so stupid? I know this man plays mind games, and I also know what his real intentions are. So now my tummy knots up waiting to find out what he's going to ask for.

"I'm not sure if I can ask you now. It seems people who I thought were my friends are now letting me down."

"I'm sorry. I just don't want to get involved with anything like that club you took me to last time."

"It's not just you. Even my old friend Peter has sent me some legal stuff; that note you made me sign, it appears I'm now the one who is guilty of stealing my own stuff. And all because I tried to help you and your husband out of a hole; what gratitude? I guess in future, I'll just let the guilty party suffer."

As I've just said, I know he plays mind games. But games or not, he was having an effect on me,

"I'm sorry. I am really grateful. But that note was just to make sure I didn't end up being a... you know, it wasn't something I could keep doing."

"Yes, I guess it's easier to say you're grateful than it is to do something to repay your debt."

"It's not like that. I thought with all those things I did for you, I'd repaid you."

"Oh now I see. You think having five or ten minutes of sexy romps is payment enough for what could have been thirty plus years in jail. I'm sure if it had been you faced with going to prison for thirty years, you'd put a different value on things. But like I say, you don't believe in honouring your debts, and you've got me over a barrel legally, so I guess you can do what you want and forget who helped you along the way."

"Please don't say that, tell me what you want me to do?"

"It was something I'd hoped to do last night, but you were otherwise engaged. There is a Japanese importer over here..."

Just hearing the word Japanese sent shivers down my spine, and before he'd finished his sentence, I interrupted.

"Please stop."

"What? What's wrong, I haven't even told you what I want."

"I know, but I don't like the sound of it."

"Sound of what, I haven't told you what I'm planning."

"It was the nationality of the man."

"What? You don't like Japanese men?"

"No. I know it's not the done thing these days, but I've had a bad experience with a Japanese man, and I couldn't do anything like that again."

"Well that's rich. Are you saying you've never had an English man do something wrong?"

"Well no."

"But that hasn't put you off all English men. I can see you've got a bit of a bigoted personality, to add to your ungrateful nature. And there was I thinking you were a nice generous and open minded girl. It's a good job for you, they don't think that way about us. Otherwise you wouldn't have any of those high tech electrical things you take for granted. But I guess I'm wasting my breath, you've got what you wanted from me, and now I'm of no use, you can just walk away."

"Ok, you've made your point. But I want to know exactly what you are expecting me to do before I agree."

"That was what I was about to tell you, but you were the one who interrupted me."

"Ok, I'm sorry, I'll let you finish before I speak again."

"Well exactly; my car will pick you up around seven. Of course my girls will have been with you all afternoon, getting you ready. Then, when you arrive at my house, you will be shown up to the smoking room, where I will be waiting with Mr Aioka."

On hearing that name I couldn't hold back and again I interrupted,

"Oh no."

"What now?"

"That's the man who I just told you I had a bad experience with."

"That's not possible; he's never been to England before. He arrived yesterday. Unless you mean you've been to Japan?"

"No. It was him last night at that place we went to."

"Well if you go around arranging meetings with men from foreign countries without taking precautions, then you shouldn't be surprised when they behave according to their own customs. Why on earth did you go to him last night?"

"He asked us to. He sent a message telling Gerry he could fix it for me to win the dance competition."

"And you went to his room alone?"

"No, Gerry came with me."

"Well that's as bad as being alone; he's not exactly action man. What on earth did you think he wanted you for?"

"Please I don't want to talk about it. All I know is that man is not nice, and I couldn't help you if it's him you want me to entertain."

"So you don't trust me to be able to control the situation?"

"How do you mean?"

"I'm guessing you and Gerry went to him, and he had his own men there to enforce his will on you?"

"Yes."

"This time, it will be on my turf, with my men, and he will only have one of his henchmen with him. So I'll be in control of what goes on, and being my guest, he'll just comply."

"I'm still not sure; he didn't appear to be a man who could be persuaded."

"And neither am I when I'm the one being backed by my manpower. You'll see, he'll be meek as a new born lamb."

"I hope you're right."

"So back to what will happen. You say Mr Aioka has already met you; well maybe that was why he was so interested when I showed him the photos of you in the underwear and beachwear. Anyway, all I need you to do is pose for him, in traditional Japanese poses, with the things Mr Aioka will provide."

"Just posing, no touching or more important, no hitting or beating with sticks."

"Just posing, Mr Aioka won't touch you at all."

"And the things he'll be asking me to model?"

"What do you think? They'll probably leave you as good as naked, and he will expect you to display yourself. But surely that won't present a problem for you?"

"Ok, I'll do it, but remember I'm trusting you to make sure he behaves himself."

"Ok, so I'll send my girls around to give you the once over. Bye for now."

Just as I put the phone down, Gerry walked in the room,

"Who was that?"

"Your ex boss."

"Who? Mr Spencer?"

"How many other ex bosses have you got?"

"Did you thank him for last night?"

"Yes. But after what happened with that Jap, I don't know why."

"That wasn't his fault."

"Maybe not, but if we hadn't been there, and we'd gone to the Marriott instead, it couldn't have happened."

"That's just you using your dislike of Mr Spencer to blame him for anything that happens. It could have happened at the Marriott, and at least going to that club, you got five hundred quid."

"That's all you think about, bloody money."

"Anyway, what was he ringing for?"

"What do you think? He still wants what he wanted last night, only now it's moved on to tonight."

"So I suppose you told him where to go."

"Well I was going to, but he kind of convinced me we still owe him for you not going to prison."

"But that other guy, Peter said that's all done with now. And he daren't try to shop me now."

"I know, and even Graham says the same. But he also said, morally, we still owe him."

"And you went along with it?"

"I guess it made sense when he explained it, but I'm not sure now."

"So, has he told you what he wants you to do tonight?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"You'll laugh if I tell you."

"Laugh? Why, what has he got in mind?"

"No I don't mean its funny, but you'll think I'm mad for agreeing to go."

"Come on you can't leave it there."

"It's that same Japanese man. Mr Aioka."

"You're joking?"

"No."

"My god Mary, even I wouldn't go anywhere I knew he was going to be. You can't seriously tell me you're going to meet him again?"

"I don't want to, but Graham said he could make sure I wasn't touched. And I agreed to go and model some Japanese underwear."

"Are you kidding? Over there they either wear nothing underneath, or just wrap themselves in white cloth. I think you've got it all wrong. And if you think that bloke will be contented to just sit there watching you model, in either Jap or western knickers, and not touch you? You were right, you are mad."

"So should I ring Graham and tell him I'm not going to go to his house?"

"I would. But why are you asking me. I thought I was a moron these days. You only take notice of that Peter fella."

"What? You think I should ask him?"

"Not really. But what ever I say, it'll be wrong."

"Don't be like that. But you might have a point. He'd have more idea about Graham's intentions. But that would mean telling him all about last night."

"So?"

"The less people that know about that, the happier I'll be."

"Your choice. But don't go blaming me if it all goes wrong."

"I wouldn't. But even if I have to tell Peter, I know he'll understand. And I'm sure he'll know what's best to do. I'll ring him now."

I dialled the number, it took a few rings, and I expected the phone to go over to a message service, but then,

"Hello."

"Is that Peter?"

"Yes, is that Mary? I was about to ring you when I got through with this meeting. I wanted to know if it is convenient to call on you?"

"Oh yes please. We've got something to tell you, and we need your advice."

"Ok, can't really talk now, I've just had to duck out of a meeting to answer this call. I'll wind the meeting up, and be with you in half an hour."

So that was it, I made our lunch, and we waited for Peter. It took him a little over his estimated half an hour, but when he arrived, his first question was,

"So why on earth did you go to that place last night?"

We were still walking along the hall as he asked me, and as we turned into the front room and he sat himself down, I answered,

"Well, to be honest, I thought we were going to the Marriott as you'd arranged. It was Gerry who changed the plan."

Peter looked at Gerry.

"I sometimes wonder how many times that man has to dupe you before you see him for what he is."

Gerry didn't look pleased at this rebuke,

"What do you mean?"

"That Japanese man is one of Graham's business contacts, he set you up. Your wife was used as a sweetener to help his importing business."

As I looked at Peter in amazement I asked,

"How do you know about that man?"

"I told you yesterday, I know people who are interested in that kind of activity. And he is one of those on the fringe, the ones you have to handle very carefully. And his taste in entertainment is not for the squeamish. You can think yourself lucky you got away as lightly as you did, he must have been in a good mood."

"So you even know what he did to me?"

"Yes. And what happened to Gerry."

"His leg, yes, that was really scary."

"Well yes, I bet that bit was, but I was actually talking about what happened to him later."

I looked at Gerry, and this time it was him who turned a bright red. This was something very unusual. I hesitated to ask, but I couldn't stop myself,

"When do you call later? And what happened?"

Peter looked a bit guilty, knowing he'd let the cat out of the bag, but he just said,

"That's up to your husband to tell you. I thought you'd already know about it."

I looked at Gerry,

"Well? Cat got your tongue?"

"Please Mary. I'll tell you later when we're on our own."

"But Peter already knows, so why am I the only one who's being kept in the dark."

"It was after you'd stormed off. I was about to go back to the bar, when that manager bloke asked if I wanted to join Mr Aioka in his apartment."

"But after what we'd just been through, why on earth did you go back up there?"

"I don't know, curiosity I guess."

"Curiosity? You know what that creep is capable of, I wouldn't have gone back up there for all the tea in china."

"Well I did. And when I got up there, it was me who they grabbed hold of. And they did the same to me as they did to you. Well not exactly, they didn't spank me, and it wasn't Mr Aioka who... you know. But it was one of those guards of his. And while they did it, that little bastard was sat there watching and laughing."

"Oh my god Gerry. I never knew. Are you alright?"

"Well I ain't going near that bastard again, that's for sure."

"I can't for the life of me understand why you went back after what we'd both been through earlier."

Peter said,

"I think the curiosity was enhanced by what they told him he might see when he got there."

I turned and asked,

"See? Like what?"

"I'm guessing, but it normally goes something like, 'we're going to have a little show up stairs'. When you ask what kind. You're told, 'someone will be getting an arse fucking. Do you want to come and watch?' You will of course, imagine you are going to see some girl getting fucked. But when you get there, the only person you see getting fucked; is yourself in the mirror."

I turned to Gerry,

"Was that what happened?

In a very dejected voice he replied,

"More or less."

I got to my feet, and as I knelt by his side, I wrapt my arms around him, and we hugged and kissed. We'd only been hugging for a few seconds, when Peter, said,

"I can't imagine why you're making such a fuss of him. For a start, he only went up there hoping to either see or be the one to fuck some poor innocent girl. And what happened to him is not a patch on what you've done on his behalf."

I gave Peter a dirty look as I said,

"Less of that. You wouldn't be so cocky if you'd been through something like that."

"Ok, if we can't talk about that, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Its Graham, he wants me to go to his house tonight."

"But you know he has no hold over you now."

"I know, but he says, morally, I still haven't paid him enough."

"That's bollocks. If you'll excuse my French."

"But when he was explaining it to me, I felt so guilty; I agreed."

"That's silly. Do you know what he wants you for?"

I repeated what I'd told Gerry'

"To model some Japanese underwear for Mr Aioka."

"And you believed that? My god Mary! You're not the girl I took you for. I thought you had more sense than that."

Then he looked at Gerry,

"Surely you weren't going to let her go?"

"I told her I didn't think it was a good idea, and I was the one who told her to contact you, to ask what you thought."

"Well at least you're starting to think straight, and I'm glad you're now accepting that maybe I do know a bit more about these things than you do. But first things first, pick up the phone and tell Graham he's out of luck."

He was looking at Gerry when he gave the instruction, and as Gerry picked up the phone, he asked,

"Then what?"

"Don't worry about what comes next, just phone Graham and make sure he gets the message."

Gerry phoned, and he told Graham, but obviously Graham was putting up an argument or some kind of defence of his motives. Then as Gerry came off the phone Peter asked,

"So is he clear about where he stands?"

"It's not that simple."

"Oh my god, don't tell me he's persuaded you to let her go?"

"He says Mary won't be hurt in any way, and the only reason you don't want her to go, is because you are a major league pimp. He says you have over fifty whores working for you, and all you're doing is attempting to get my Mary to join your stable."

"But you know that already. I explained the other day I run girls, and yes, if your Mary wants to do that kind of work, I'll make sure she's protected, and find her suitable clients. But how does that change what could happen to Mary tonight?"

"I don't know. It was the way he put it, he says he'll look after Mary better than you, and he isn't trying to make money out of her. He only wants her to entertain some of his friends, and he won't make her into a whore."

Peter looked from me to Gerry, and then slowly said,

"Well. I guess it's just a case of who you believe. I thought I'd found a way out for you from under Graham's thumb. And I've already told you, the other stuff is your choice. But if you think he's your saviour, then it's up to you."

Gerry looked at me, but I guess I was as confused as him as to whom we could trust. Then Gerry said,

"I think maybe she should go to Mr Spencer's house tonight, and if it is as he says, then maybe we'll just pay him off, doing the odd modelling thing for him. That way I can maybe go back to my old job, and things can get back to normal."

"You bloody fool. Still it's your funeral. Or to be more precise, it's your wife's."

"I don't think he's as bad as you make him out to be."

"Ok, you've made your choice. But you do know what will happen to your wife tonight?"

"She's told you, just modelling."

"Do you want to see some photos of what kind of thing he has in mind?"

I answered,

"No, it's alright. I can guess I'll be showing lots of naked flesh. But so long as I'm not being slapped or beaten, it won't be too bad."

"I should just go and let you suffer, but I do feel partly responsible for you being in this mess. Wait while I go to my car and gets some photos, then I'll explain what he has planned for tonight."

He got up and went out to his car, and Gerry said,

"What do you think, who would you trust?"

"Peter. But even if we trust him, we know he wants me to work as a prostitute for him. At least with Graham, even if tonight does involve sex, I'm sure once I've done it a few times, and you're back working at your old job, we can then get back to normal; like you said."

"That's the way I see it. I don't think these photos will make any difference, no matter how much cunt you have to show."

I didn't like the way Gerry put it, but in essence, the gist of what he said was about right. Then Peter came in and handed us about five photos. All the photos were of the same girl, but just one glance at each of them made a shiver run down my spine. The girl was naked in all of the photos, and in all of them she was hanging by ropes from a horizontally suspended bamboo cane. What it was hanging from was not shown in the pictures. All that could be seen was the single rope divided into two, and held each end of the stout bamboo shaft, which was somewhere around five or six feet long, and a good inch or more thick. The poor girl was trust up with ropes cutting into her naked flesh, each photo showing her in a different pose to the next. And in one, she was being probed in her pussy by a large dildo that appeared to be part of a mask worn by a man. To say she looked in distress in all these pictures is an understatement, and to say I was repulsed by them was also putting it mildly.




Freebie Ch. 04



Peter asked,

"Well, do you still intend to let your wife go to meet that man?"

"What makes you think this is anything to do with Mr Aioka?"

"It was him, or to be more accurate, his personal assistant who sent them to me."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he knew he'd be over here for a few weeks, and I have a reputation for being able to provide girls for any kind of taste, no matter how weird."

"I don't get it, if you can find him a girl, then what makes you think he will do something like this to Mary?"

"If I find him a girl, it'll cost him five grand plus for just one night. Girls in this country don't go in for that kind of thing lightly. But a leopard doesn't change his spots, and being as Graham is trying to butter this guy up, it's my guess, he's gonna use your wife to do it."

Gerry repeated what I'd told him,

"But Mr Spencer has already said it's just posing in Japanese underwear."

"That is what Mr Aioka calls posing, and as for Japanese underwear, they either wear nothing, western stuff as in my catalogue, or traditional linen wraps. Did he actually say underwear?"

Peter was looking at me when he asked the question.

I thought back, and then tried to repeat the actual words Graham had said,

"I think it was something like, 'He'd seen the photos of me in the underwear and beachwear. And he wanted me to pose for him in traditional Japanese poses. He would provide the...' I'm not sure. I think he said 'things', which I assumed meant underwear or swimwear."

"As I thought. Those photos show the traditional poses he wants, and the things, are ropes, clips, pins and all manner of other ways of causing pain."

Gerry held me close, and I snuggled into his chest.

"So my boy, if I was you I'd tell Graham to find some other sucker."

Gerry went to the phone, and it was obvious from his attitude, he was just telling Graham, and not listening to any kind of excuse or explanation. Then when he came back, he looked at Peter,

"Well I guess I can forget about getting my job back. And now, I'll bet you have some kind of plan of your own."

"Plan? For what?"

"For Mary. Who else?"

"I have no plan. As far as I'm concerned, all I'm gonna do now is leave a card with the name and address of my legal people, just in case Graham ever does try anything silly. You've already got my card, if you do want to contact me. So I guess I'll take my leave."

I looked at Gerry, and my eyes were asking if he thought I should offer to reward Peter for his help. But Gerry just asked,

"What's up with you?"

"Please Peter, can you just wait here a minute, I want to have a quick word with Gerry on my own."

And with that I took his arm and led him into the kitchen.

"We can't just let him go without doing something to show him how much he's done for us."

"Oh I see. You're back to that again. I'm beginning to think this sex thing is like a drug for you. Any man who crosses your path you have to open your legs."

"You ungrateful pig. I've done all this to keep you from prison."

"Yes so you keep banging on. But that's sorted now, and yet you still want an excuse to get him into bed with you."

"I sometimes wonder why I bothered. Don't you understand if it hadn't been for Peter, I'd still be under Graham's control, and those photos you saw would be me tonight? And maybe even worse tomorrow. Well I don't care what you think, I'm going to let Peter know if he wants me; it's the least I can do to repay him."

As I turned and began to walk back to the front room, Gerry said,

"So why did you asked me my opinion, if you'd already made up your mind?"

I ignored him, and as I walked into the front room, I said to Peter,

"We really are grateful for all the help you've given us, I know we haven't got enough money to repay your kindness, but if you want to go upstairs with me, I'll do my best to show you how much we appreciate your help."

"You know what I think about your prowess in that department, but I can see from Gerry's look, it is just been offered as a repayment. So as much as I'd love to take you up on the offer, I think I'll say no. If at any time in the future you want my help, just ask, and if at any time in the future, you offer yourself to me, just because we are friends, then I'll consider it an honour. But an offer made under these circumstances is not what I want; I think you're confusing me with Graham."

As he first started talking, I felt hurt; at first thinking he didn't want sex with me. But then as he continued, my feelings changed, and I somehow felt we'd insulted him.

"Please Peter. It wasn't meant in that way. And I do look upon you as my friend."

"Maybe love. But I know your husband still thinks I'm only doing this to get my hooks into you. So better we part now on good terms."

I reached up and with my arms around Peter's neck I began to kiss. The kiss lasted over a minute, and as our tongues mingled, I felt an exchange of spirits between two lovers. In that brief moment, I knew this could not be the last time Peter and I would be in each others arms. Then as he gently lowered me back to my feet, he held out his hand to Gerry, and said,

"Well my lad. Hope you get your life sorted out. I have only two pieces of advice for you. One; stay well clear of Graham, no matter what he's offering. And second, make sure you take real good care of this little girl. Because if you don't, there's plenty of men out there who will willingly do it for you. And you young lady. Well what can I say, I'm sorry to be saying goodbye, but happy you are now free to make your own choices."

With that he walked out of the room; in seconds was climbing into his car and as I stood in the front doorway with Gerry's arms wrapped around my waist, off drove Peter. My head was racing, not knowing if that was the last time I'd ever see him. Then my trance was broken by,

"Hmm. Maybe he was genuine. I thought all that stuff was just his patter leading up to getting you working in one of his brothels."

"Gerry! You really are crude. Even if he had been trying to persuade me to work for him, it wouldn't have been like that."

"Look girl, it doesn't matter how it would have been, if you work for him selling your body for sex, you're a whore and that's that."

The next few days were very strange, Gerry not going to work, and not even going out of the house looking for it. We had argument after argument, neither of us knowing in what direction our life would take, or even in what direction we wanted it to go. Gerry collected all his pay owing to him from work, and with the other money from those two men and the dance competition; we had around two grand to live on. Not much, once the monthly mortgage had been taken out, especially knowing there wouldn't be another pay check next month.

Then out of the blue came an invitation to the next round of the dance competition, to be held this time in Manchester, a large town about a hundred or so miles away. As soon as Gerry read it, his eyes lit up,

"That's it, if you win this one, it'll solve our money worries."

I had also been thinking, but I'd been trying to work out how I could even think about entering.

"It will; will it? Well for one, I need a dress. You won't get much change out of a grand for the complete outfit. And then there's entrance money, hotel, and who am I going to dance with?"

"I hadn't thought about that. What about if I phone Mr Spencer and see if he can pull any strings?"

"My god Gerry, don't you dare."

"But he was the one who organised the dress and a dancing partner last time."

"Yes, and if you remember, that Japanese bloke was some kind of business contact of his, so it's a little more than a coincidence, that we got involved with him, don't you think?"

"Well maybe he'll have gone home by now."

"You're not phoning Graham, if it isn't that Jap, he'll find some other man to humiliate me with. What about if I phone Peter?"

"But he didn't organise any of that stuff, and I can't see him paying for a dress or hotel."

"You're right; we couldn't expect him to pay out unless we do something for him."

"Are you still going on about having sex with him?"

"No."

The subject was dropped, and as the next week passed by, our arguments increased in frequency and bitterness, and by now Gerry had taken to going out in the afternoons to the pub. Although I resented this, because we couldn't afford it, it did give me a welcome break from our constant rowing. While he was out one afternoon, the phone rang,

"4 3 6 5 8 7."

"Hello, is that Mrs Mary Kendal?"

"Yes, who wants to know?"

"Well my name is Jeff Bland, and I represent the Matrix Organisation. I assume you've heard of us, we produce the dance show on Saturday night television."

"Yes, but what do you want me for?"

"You won the last round of the preliminary competitions, and we expected you to take part in the next one, but you haven't returned your entrance application."

"I won't be competing."

"Why ever not?"

"A little thing called money."

"But I was led to believe you were being sponsored by a wealthy business group."

"Maybe that was who sponsored me for the last competition, but not anymore."

"Well if there's anything I can do to talk to them, I might be able to persuade them about the advantages of continuing their support."

"No thank you, it was my decision to end the connection between us."

There was a few seconds pause,

"Well I won't pry into your reasons for making that decision, but we would still like to see you in future competitions, and you do realise, winning that last one gives you automatic entry into our up coming series on the TV? Surely you'll be competing in that?"

"I hadn't realised, but even if I'm entitled, I still have the same problem."

"But don't tell me you'll miss out on the opportunities being on TV will create for you."

"What opportunities?"

"They're endless. Once you've appeared on our program, you'll get invitations to appear on all kind of TV shows. You'll automatically become a celeb, and that means you can ask money just for going to events, and almost never have to buy things like theatre tickets, meals, clothes, and even sometimes jewellery. The list of things people will want you to endorse is endless. If you can't afford the necessary to compete, I can recommend and introduce you to several companies who will support your entrance expenses."

"Why would they do that?"

"As an investment, knowing even if you don't win, just the TV exposure will allow you to generate any money they loan you."

"I didn't realise it could be that profitable."

"Just let me send someone to see you to explain it all. There will be no obligation to take up their offer."

"Ok, but make sure they ring me first so I can have someone here who'll be able to advise me."

"Ok, will do, and I hope we see you entering for the next round. Bye for now."

My first action was to pick the phone back up and ring Peter to ask if he would be available when the person came to see me. I knew I wouldn't be able to decide if it was a good idea to accept what ever terms they offered, and Gerry wouldn't be much better than me. But Peter said in his opinion, it was pointless the person coming at all, and he suggested he should come and explain his reasons to Gerry and I together. So knowing Gerry would be home later, I arranged for Peter to call to see us around seven in the evening.

When Gerry arrived home from his afternoons drinking, I gave him his evening meal, and told him about the two telephone conversations I'd had while he was out. The first one got him excited, but on hearing I'd arranged for Peter to come and advise us, this dampened his enthusiasm. But around seven, Peter arrived, and I showed him into the front room. He then told us, that in his opinion, the dance competition was a really positive way forward, and he even said,

"I'm not sure old Graham intended it to work in your favour, but getting you to that competition was the best thing he could have done for you."

He went on to explain all the things the man on the phone had mentioned about capitalising on a TV appearance were true. And he even added, if handled by an agent, I could make a career from just one appearance. But he strongly advised against going through any of the many sponsors that I'd find willing to back my attempt. Again, in his opinion, unless they were backing me to gain advertising from my appearance, he said their motives would be the interest they would make on the money loaned to me. And as this would be a very substantial sum, it could take me years to pay it back. And leave me in the position where if the future career didn't pan out, I could be deep in debt for years, or even loose our house.

Gerry didn't look pleased at Peter's advice, and he said,

"So even though you think she could make loads of money, you don't think it's worth the gamble?"

"It's your choice, but, and I'm not saying your Mary can't dance; you did say that last competition was fixed. There are so many who've gone this way before, and come unstuck."

"So should she just give-up on her dream?"

"No. But if you could earn enough money to get the ball rolling, and then just do a single job every time you need to top-up the kitty. That way if she wins competitions on her own merit, and the money does start rolling in, it'll all be spends. But if things don't turnout, you won't end up in debt."

"I get it. You're back to trying to get Mary working in one of your whore houses?"

"Not quite. But I do have a couple of clients who saw her dancing the other week, and either or both of them would pay handsomely to take her out for the evening."

"Yes, but she'd still be working as a whore, and you'd still take your cut?"

"Well her job title would actually be 'An Escort', but yes, she'd be whoring. And yes I'd take my ten percent. But at around two grand a man, she'd make a net of three-thousand six-hundred for just two nights. And she'd be wined and dined at the very best places, and I can guarantee she won't have to put up with any rough stuff."

I still hadn't spoken, as I thought Gerry was fighting my cause quite effectively. But as Gerry heard the amounts of money to be made, I could see his excitement building. Then he asked,

"Are you sure you can get that much money for just one fuck?"

"I told you before, it's the desirability factor. They know she's gonna be on TV, so they can brag to their colleagues, 'I've fucked her'. Once she's actually done her first show, I'll be upping the anti to five grand a time."

"Jesus Mary. I bet you never knew just how valuable that pussy you're sitting on was worth?"

I replied in a disapprovingly sarcastic tone,

"You're right. But I also never imagined you put so little value on it."

He looked at Peter,

"What the fuck is it with her? I don't know what I've done; but what ever I say I'm in the wrong."

Peter didn't reply to Gerry, but turned and said to me softly,

"I know it's a hard pill to swallow, but if you just do these first two jobs, it'll give you enough funds to enter the next few competitions, and keep your household bills up to date. If you're winning competitions by then, and as your fame grows, maybe I could get you some legitimate advertising."

I didn't answer, but just sat there with my head hung low, shaking it side to side. Gerry said,

"It don't look like she's interested. And it wouldn't surprise me if I'm in the spare room tonight. I guess you'd better go."

"Ok, I'll leave. And if you still want to take up a loan, I will try to get here to advise you. Bye for now."

As soon as he'd gone, and it wasn't even seven-thirty, I went up to my room, got into bed, and that was me for the night. Gerry didn't attempt to join me, but he spent the night as he'd predicted, in the spare room. I didn't actually go straight to sleep when I'd gone up stairs; I lay there into the early hours of the morning, just running various scenarios through my head. I was up and doing housework by the time Gerry decided to come down stairs, and his first words were spoken in a very submissive tone. 

"Are we cool?"

"I guess so. I'm sorry about last night; I know it wasn't your fault."

"So I guess I'll have to think about going to the job centre?"

"Maybe. But before we do anything, I think we should talk."

We both sat down, and he held my hand,

"Ok, what are you thinking?"

"I haven't decided anything yet, but let me just run these ideas past you. First, you could do what you've just said, go find a job, and I'll go back to being a dreary housewife."

"You're not dreary."

"No please don't speak; I'll loose my train of thought."

"Sorry."

"Well that is one option."

"Then I could wait for this man from the TV Company to send someone to sponsor me. And maybe, just maybe, if my dancing is good enough. And if my face clicks when I do TV interviews, then I could become a celeb. But that is a big risk."

I paused before daring to say the next option.

"Ok, you know the third option, but if I spell this out; I don't want any comments about me being sex crazy."

"I'm Shtum."

"Well if I do let Peter find men, at least if I'm not any good at dancing, at least I'll have given it my best shot, and we won't be in debt."

"Can I speak?"

"Yes, I want to know what you think?"

"You've obviously thought this through. And it's also obvious; you want to try the dancing. Like you just said, once you've tried, if it don't workout, I can always look for work then, but we won't be starting with a big debt to repay."

"So you think I should phone Peter?"

"I guess so."

"You know what that will make me?"

"Yes, but it isn't as if you're gonna keep doing it."

"And there won't be any snide remarks?"

"No babe. You know I'm with you all the way."

So move on a week, Peter has advanced me the money to enter the next round of the competition. Supplied me with a wardrobe of a dozen dresses and underwear. And even managed to locate Trav, and persuade him to be my permanent partner. But this now meant, any competition money earned, would be split two ways. But that was better than none at all. So now my days are taken up with dance practice, while Gerry spends his mornings in bed, and his afternoons down the pub.

I think it was about two or three weeks after making my decision, that I got a call from Peter, asking me to be ready at around seven the next evening, I'd be picked up by a taxi, and meet a Mr Yardley at the Holiday Inn. He also told me to expect an express delivery; he'd sent me a supply of yellow pills. The pills arrived that same day by motorcycle dispatch rider. The next evening, I was ready, and the taxi was on time, but I'd made up my mind to do this without the help of the pills. So about seven-thirty, as I step out from the cab, a very distinguished gentleman was waiting to take my hand.

"Good evening Mrs Kendal, I'm Mr Yardley. I think you're expecting me?"

I took his hand, gave a slight bow, and replied,

"Yes. But please call me Mary."

There was some small talk, where he also told me his first name, which was Alan, and then he escorted me into the hotel. We dined in the main restaurant, and as you might expect, the meal was sumptuous. I did drink some wine, but not too much, I wanted to be sure I kept my wits about me. After the meal, we talked, nothing of any consequence, just me agreeing with any opinion he put forward. Then around nine-thirty, he took me through to the ballroom, where there were about thirty or so couples just dancing in a relaxed manner around the floor. 

We joined them, and though not a competition dancer, this man knew not only how to dance, but how to hold a girl and provide the all important lead. The next hour or so was so pleasant, just floating around, not having to impress any judges, but still being with a real dancer. Even if he was in my dad's age group! I later found out he was actually sixty-two years old! I'd only guessed in his early fifties. But all that aside, his behaviour and conversation was impeccable, and it was hard to believe what the real purpose of this evening was.




Freebie Ch. 04



During the evenings dancing, we took time out several times, where he'd drink champagne, but after just the one glass, I reverted to a non-alcoholic orange drink. I guess it was around eleven-thirty when the mood of the music began to incline to the romantic, and they also dropped the light level. It was with this change, that it became evident; Alan was beginning to think about what was still to come when the dance had ended.

This as you can guess was demonstrated by his cock making itself known as Alan pulled himself close to me during the dancing. The first time I realised, I guess it must have shown on my face, because he immediately slackened his hold, and as a mild blush came to his cheeks, he whispered in my ear,

"I'm sorry my dear. It has a will of its own."

I found this so charming, as he'd been holding me tightly to his body all evening, and it wasn't as though he'd suddenly pushed his cock up against me in a base or threatening manner. So as I said,

"I understand. But please don't relax your hold; I need your strong guidance."

The smile that appeared on his face was as if I'd given him the moon, and he resumed his grip, pulling my body back into contact with his cock.

The rest of the dances were almost like actual sex! Several times, I saw his eyes glaze over, and I was almost sure it was because he was actually cuming in his pants. But it wasn't just him who couldn't control his emotions, on at least three occasions, my arousal got the upper hand, and by the time we arrived at the last waltz, I was praying the juices I could feel at the tops of my legs wouldn't make themselves known to other dancers.

His comments about our evening as we made our way up in the lift, and along the corridors towards his room, had now moved from the impeccable behaviour standard, to the, can't wait to fuck you variety.

I guess that's not really fair, his language was always that of a gentleman, but the subject of his conversation was now directed to the actual point of the evening. He told me how he'd cum whilst dancing, and how he wanted to cum in every possible way with me. I for my part tried to banter on equal terms, and didn't let any of his sexual suggestions faze me. As we arrived at his room his first pressing engagement was the bathroom, and whilst he was busy, I re-opened the door and hung the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the outside.

Then as we proceeded to the bed, he lay me down and took the greatest of pleasure in slowly peeling my clothes off until I was completely naked. Then he must have spent a good ten or more minutes kissing, stroking, licking and generally fondling just about every square inch of my flesh, finishing up with his face buried deep into my crotch. My arousal was simmering just below boiling point as we'd left the dance floor, and his wonderful attention since we arrived in his room created several minor eruptions. But his tongue in my pussy, bottom and that whole area, had me bucking and heaving, and almost at the point of begging him to fuck me.

But before I actually reached that humiliating situation, he stepped down from the bed, and began to strip himself. As his boxer shorts left his waist, I could now see why his cock had made itself so apparent during the dancing. Not only was it hard, but big. Not I hasten to add a rival for Olaf, but fatter and every bit as long a Peter's magnificent specimen. Once naked, he climbed up alongside me, and as he lay himself on his back, he said,

"Come-on then, let's see you earn your money."

This was definitely an out of character remark for him, and at first I took it as some kind of slur. But then it came to me, that this man had treated me to all of the finest things money could buy all evening, and he was right, it was now my turn to show him I was worth two thousand pounds of his money. I got up onto my hands and knees along side him on the bed, and asked,

"Do you want me to take you in my mouth first, or shall I just mount you?"

"I think you can just slip that little cunt onto my cock, it won't take long for my first load."

I lifted my leg over his torso, and put the head of his cock against my wet slippery valley. Knowing the size of his cock, I'd intended to lower myself down slowly, but my pussy had other ideas. As soon as I felt his bell-end resting against the flesh of my slit, my hips lunged forwards. It wasn't so much his cock slipping up my pussy; more a case of my pussy stretching itself down and around his cock. It took me by surprise, and I could tell by the look on his face, he was also taken aback.

Unthinkingly, I paraphrased his remark from earlier,

"I'm sorry. It has a will of its own."

A wry smile appeared on his face, as he pushed his cock hard up, making crotch to groin contact. I fucked him slow and purposely, using all of the length of his cock, but as he'd said, it was only five or so minutes before he began to jerk his cum up into my pussy. My pussy, of course, returned the compliment, by going into a minor convulsion. 

This orgasm was a full contraction and fairly hefty gusher, but not one that knocked out my consciousness. But even though he'd finished his cum strokes, and I was conscious of my crotch display, I was unable to cut my performance short. So by the time I was able to lift myself from above him, his lower belly was covered in my sticky juices. Now I guess in some of the other sexual events that had taken place in this last month or so, this kind of sticky excess must have covered my sexual partner before, but then as I had either been in a semi-conscious state, or just because I'd felt like I was the one being used, I'd never before felt guilty for causing such a mess. But now with this man who I still considered to be a refined gentleman, I felt so guilty, and I began to blurt out apologies.

He just smoothed over the whole thing, by turning me over on my back, ignoring the sticky mess, and just began to kiss and caress me. Within minutes, we were making love again; for that is what it felt like, not just lustful sex. And he continued in this way for at least two hours, I think he actually climax seven times! How a man of his age had the stamina, to enable him to keep his erection for so long, I can only assume must be due to some kind of drugs. But never mind the length of time he held his errection, where on earth did he summon up all that spunk!

We slept the night together in each others arms, and when I awoke in the morning, he was gone. But there on the little table beside the bed were two tall champagne glasses. One was empty, but the other had a single red rose in it. To one side was a bucket with a bottle of champagne sitting in the ice, the wires already broken, and cork ready to pop. Then set up in front of the glass with the rose was an envelope. I reached across and took out the note from inside.

My Dearest Mary,

Thank you for a wonderful evening; I can't remember when I last enjoyed myself as much as I did last night. I hope you enjoy the champagne. The bill for the room, complete with breakfast is already settled. The breakfast can be taken either in the room, or in the breakfast lounge downstairs. When you leave, just ask at reception, I have settled the fare for the taxi. I sincerely hope we can meet again some time in the near future.

Bye, and fondest wishes Alan.

So after I'd had my shower and sorted myself out, I phoned for the breakfast to be brought to the room, and sat there sipping champagne, waiting for it to arrive. Everything was as he'd said, and I arrived home around ten in the morning. Gerry was still in bed, and I decided to slip in alongside him. As he felt me getting into bed, he turned over, and slipped his arm around me. Within minutes, his leg was lifting over mine, and I was opening my legs wide for him to mount me. I know it sounds wicked, but although this was something he did regularly, I'm sure neither of us actually got as much pleasure from sex alone together, as we did if it is given the added danger or spice provided by another person being involved with us. But that said, he rolled off after he'd spent his ardour, and I slipped out to the bathroom to clean myself before once again slipping in alongside him.

We were both awaken by the telephone, and as it is on Gerry's side of the bed, he answered it,

"Yeh. Who is it?"

There was a pause while whom ever it was spoke, and then Gerry said excitedly,

"No bloody Shit. That's great."

Another pause, then.

"Too bloody right. She must have really rung his bell. Yep, I'll let her know."

Then as he put the phone down,

"My god Mary, what did you get up to with that bloke last night?"

My heart dropped, I didn't need this kind of inquisition, especially after he'd agreed this was what he wanted me to do. I snapped out in an angry voice,

"That's it! I've had it with you."

"Hey babe, what's wrong? I wasn't trying to be nasty. Come on its all cool. In fact it's more than cool. I was just trying to tell you how good you must have been. That guy paid an extra five hundred quid, and it wasn't because Peter asked him. He just said you deserved the extra. And he wants to see you again."

While Gerry was speaking I calmed down, as I realised it wasn't his usual recriminations, and blaming me for being a slut, but he was genuinely pleased with what I'd done. Even if it was only because I'd earned even more money than he'd expected.

"That's ok then. But I don't want any snide comments."

"Hey love, come on."

He wrapped his arms around me, and in between kissing and cuddling me, he continued,

"I'm cool with what you're doing. Just so long as you're ok with it?"

"I guess so."

Then thinking about the sum of money he'd just mentioned, I added,

"That man was ever so nice last night; he behaved like a real gentleman all evening."

Gerry lent back so he could look into my face a see my expression,

"What? He didn't even fuck you?"

"No. I don't mean that. I mean all evening; he behaved as if we were on a date. Yes when we got up to his room, we made love. But he wasn't aggressive or nasty with it."

"Look babe, I know you don't like some words. But what he did wasn't making love; he fucked you. And you fucked him, but only for the money. Don't get any romantic ideas about it."

"Well ok, he fucked me. But I still felt he did it with feeling, as though it meant something to him."

"It must have, he paid enough for it."

Then he continued,

"Will you meet him again?"

"I hadn't thought about it."

"Well you ought to; Peter says he wants another bite of the apple."

"We said I'd only do a couple of jobs, just to make enough to finance this dance competition."

"So if you see him again, that will be two jobs."

"But Peter said he had another man who wanted to go out with me. I don't want to agree to one man, and then find out I still have another one arranged."

"Do you want me to ring Peter and see what the score is?"

"I guess so."

So while I went to the bathroom Gerry phoned Peter, and when I returned, he informed me, Peter had already arranged for me to spend the whole of next weekend with a Mr Francis. Again, Peter would supply suitable clothing for me. But this time I would be escorting this Mr Francis as his daughter, at some high-class social event. On hearing this, it gave me some cause for concern, not on the sexual front, but more my lack of social graces. After all, although I hadn't liked Gerry sisters remark whilst out on her hen night, she was in essence right; I had been brought-up on a council-house estate.

I actually rang Peter back, and pointed out my misgivings, but he assured me, in his opinion, I'd be able to pull it off without any problems. So Friday night arrived, and a black Rolls Royce pulled up in front of our house. I didn't wait for the driver to walk up to our door, but as soon as I'd spotted the car through the window, I'd grabbed my weekend bag, put on my coat, and opened the front door, just as he was half way up our garden path.

"Mrs Kendal?"

"Yes."

"Let me take your bag. Follow me."

In the car was a man, again I'm guessing, but I'd think around forty-five years old. Dressed in formal evening wear, and looking very hansom. As I stepped in and sat alongside him he said,

"My name is David, but I'd like you to just call me daddy. Not dad or pop, just daddy. And as everyone will eventually see you on TV, I will need to introduce you as Mary. But most of the time I'll call you by the pet name I have for you; Lou."

"Yes daddy."

"That's good. Now as to your behaviour. I'd like you to appear innocent, and if there are any comments or jokes of a riskay nature, do not laugh or react in any way, let them go over your head, as if you don't understand them."

"Yes daddy."

He smiled, and said,

"Ok, now give me a kiss."

"What kind? A daddy kiss, or one to wet your appetite?"

"Well just this once, I'll try one of each, the daddy one first."

I first gave him a simple peck on the cheek, and then sat back. Then after a few seconds pause I brought my head up towards his, with it held on a slight angle. As our mouths came into contact, I let my tongue penetrate through my own lips, and then on into his mouth. He responded with equal vigour, and our tongues intermingled for a minute or more. I'm not sure about the affect I had on his state of arousal, but I know for my part, it ignited the kindling in my tummy, and I wouldn't have needed any persuading to have taken the whole thing to the next level.

But as it was, he took a deep breath after the kiss, and said,

"Wow! Yes well! I don't think you'd better let anyone see you giving me a kiss like that."

Then we settled down and he explained a few more things about how I was to behave during the weekend. Not once was there any mention of where, when or whom I'd be expected to have sex with. And to my amazement, the whole weekend was just as he had described, I played the part of his daughter, at a very big country house, and we two were just one couple out of at least ten invited guests. The food was excellent, and company was pleasant, if somewhat upper-crust and full of their own importance. And I was returned to my home at around nine on Sunday evening. Daddy said goodnight, and thanked me for a pleasant weekend, and off he went.

Gerry was surprised to see me home so early, and when he asked,

"Well how was it?"

I replied,

"I'm not sure."

"Why what went wrong?"

"I don't know. Nothing happened as far as I know that could have upset him."

"But what?"

"Well, we didn't have sex. All I did was pretend to be his daughter."

"What he didn't even touch you?"

"No. Not unless you class holding my hand, or me sitting on his knee a couple of times."

"Did he say anything about not paying you when he dropped you off?"

"No, he just thanked me for a pleasant weekend."

"That don't sound good, I can't think he'll pay two grand for just a pleasant weekend. Why didn't you ask if he wanted you to fuck on the way home in the car?"

"I'm not sure. I think I'd been playing the part of the innocent daughter so long, I actually felt like it was my dad in the car with me."

"That's no good; I'll bet he was waiting for you to give him the nod. Some blokes are like that. A bit shy."

"I don't think he was shy. Maybe he just didn't like me. I'll ring Peter and ask him to find out if I screwed-up."

So off I went, but Peter's phone went onto answer machine,

"Hi. It's Mary. I've just got home from my weekend with Mr Francis. I hope everything's ok, but he didn't attempt to... you know, touch me or anything. I'm sorry if I didn't live up his expectation. Ring me back as soon as you can. Bye Mary."

It was nearly thirty minutes before Peter rang back, and as Gerry was so uptight about the thought of me not getting paid, he dashed to answer the phone. When he came into the kitchen where I was doing the washing-up, his face told me things were ok before he opened his mouth. He had a beaming smile from ear to ear.

"What?"

"How the bloody hell do you do it?"

"What d'you mean?"

"He's gone and matched that other bloke."

"What do you mean?"

"Paid two-and-a-half-grand! And he wants to take you out again."

"Oh my god! But we said I'd only do the two jobs."

"You have to be joking? One bloke doesn't even touch you, and even you said going out with the other one was like going on a date, except you got paid for it. And if they've paid that price once, I'll bet they'll both pay the same if not more next time. Do you realise, you'll have got the same amount for going out twice, as I earned by working forty hours a week for six months."

"But what if they both want to keep seeing me?"

"Well why not?"

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Well of course, I don't like the idea. But we have to be realistic. Four times, compared to me working like an idiot for six months. I'd have to be stupid to kick-up a fuss."

So with us both on a high, up we went to bed, and he made love to me. Next day I was back with Trav doing our dance practice, we were doing six hours a day, four days a week, and this next weekend was the next round of the competition. The evening of the competition Gerry and I were picked-up by Peter in a limo, and we then picked-up Trav on our way. All four of us shared a table, but Gerry very soon disappeared to the bar, leaving me with Trav and Peter. The dancing went well, and although we got into the two couple dance-off finale, this time we were the runners-up. But even though we didn't win, we were still on a high, as second was no minor achievement, and still carried a two hundred quid prise. Peter had just suggested getting us a bottle of champagne, when one arrived at our table, with a note attached. We were told it was courtesy of a gentleman on the other side of the dance floor.

The note read.

Mary my dear, you danced as always exquisitely, and I can only assume the reason you didn't win, was that judges had been bribed by the other couple. But the result apart, it did my heart the power of good seeing you once again gliding around the floor. My only regret is that I won't be the one who gets the pleasure of the last dance of the evening, or more importantly, the last sighs before you go to sleep.

I hope we can meet again soon, Alan.

The note was handed directly to me, but I could see both Trav and Peter were curious to know what it said. I passed it to Peter, letting him decide if he wanted Trav to know its contents. Peter read it, and then after folding it up, slipped it in his pocket without showing it to Trav. We all took a glass of champagne, and after I'd about drank my glass half way down, Trav said,

"Well Mary. How about we take to the floor again, but this time, just for the pleasure."

I didn't answer, but just rose to my feet, and soon we floated around, in a similar manner to how I'd danced with Alan the other night. And in a similar manner, it soon became obvious to me; Trav had his mind on other things than dancing. But where as Alan had attempted to release his hold to prevent me from noticing, Trav appeared to be trying to impress his arousal on me, and I guessed he was trying to get a reaction from me. I know I felt on that first night with Trav, a sense of debt for his guidance and help, but now, we had been practicing together for a few weeks, and we were both on equal footing regarding any benefits to be gained from this competition. So tonight, I didn't have that same feeling of debt, and in fact thought this display of his arousal was crude. So as the next dance began, I made my excuses, and returned towards the table. 

As Peter saw us making our way back, he got to his feet, and intercepted us, offering to take over from Trav. I didn't mind this, and again we were off around the floor. Peter wasn't a bad dancer, but obviously not in the same league as Trav. But the main difference was his stance and hold. A confident male lead will always bring his partners body up to his own, and it is this contact of the hip area which gives the control to the male. It is also as I have already mentioned, how they indicate to the female they want to do more than just dance with her. But that aside, as Peter and I danced, although he made his way around the floor a lot better than my Gerry, it wasn't what I'd call real dancing. But the second dance with Peter was a slow smoochie number, it was of course, getting towards that time of night, and within seconds of the lights dimming, his hands had dropped and came to rest cupping the cheeks of my bottom. It was then he pulled me close up to himself, and now it was his errection I could feel pressing into my tummy.