#and she is a consummate professional setting an example and taking responsibility for everyone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vandalsandvagrants · 6 years

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I don't cheat, okay? Let me say it again. I. Do. Not. Cheat. The same way I don't drink-drive or wear yesterday's underpants. It's a built-in rule and one that with a little forward thinking is never broken. I'm engaged now to Amanda and our relationship couldn't be stronger. It's built on honesty and it's built on trust, got me? We have a varied, healthy and satisfying sex-life and we don't screw other people. End of story.

This is most reassuring when, for example, I end up talking to the new temp across the photocopier at work. Or when I go out drinking with mates at the sort of club where randy, dissatisfied wives and girlfriends go to prove they're still attractive to other guys. The subtle explanatory reference is never far from my lips, should I fall into conversation with such ladies: 'I was on holiday there with my girlfriend.' Or the more direct 'Thanks, but I'm already with someone,' if required. And then there's that old faithful back-up: 'Yes, but I'd know, even if she didn't.'

Nothing is ever going to happen.

This is especially good to bear in mind on a day like today. One of the days when I visit Kelly. In fact, no - that's not even a cause for mild concern. Kelly's in a relationship as well, and she really likes the bloke. He's quite the romantic, it seems. Last time she told me all about her high expectations for Valentine's Day and I in turn described my plans for Amanda and myself. The two of us, client and professional, sharing the same warm glow from our respective love affairs. So the Kelly situation is nothing to worry about.

Okay, all right - so the reason we ended up talking so earnestly about our significant others was to deflect from a certain...frisson that passed between us. Now hold on, I didn't hit on her - don't think that for a second - and she didn't take it as such. I passed some vague compliment about her loose perm suiting her, or something like that, and she took maybe a little too much pleasure in it and then I held eye-contact a longer than was perhaps wise... And then it was all embarrassment and rapidly changed subject and very deliberate mention, on both our parts, of the people we were involved with.

Well massage is intimate after all, even purely therapeutic massage. Kelly is a consummate professional; she's friendly without being flirtatious, very careful to keep that businesslike edge. But after several sessions you get to know each other a bit. And if you have a natural connection and a degree of mutual attraction, however unspoken, well, anyone's guard can drop. Okay, it's true - I did carry her final smile with me for the rest of the day. And that night. When I was...having sex with Amanda. There I was, my body moving on my fiancee's, and when I closed my eyes, Kelly's smiling face was floating before me. Amanda's moans and Kelly's smile... Shit, look, I mean everyone has those thoughts! It's not as though I deliberately dwelt on them...

And - and - why the hell am I even feeling guilty? The massage sessions were Amanda's idea in the first place. She was driving the bastard car when the accident occurred! If she hadn't braked to save that frigging pigeon, we wouldn't have been back-ended, I wouldn't have whiplash, there'd be no need for bleeding massage therapy! And I haven't even done anything yet. Not that I'm going to!

Like I said, nothing is ever going to happen.

Nice to know, as I pass through the revolving doors of Blue Haven Health and Fitness Spa. As I check in at the desk. As I make my way along the bright corridor to the massage suite. The massage suite where I know Kelly, the lovely manipulator of my limbs, will be waiting... Thank fuck she has a boyfriend.

'Hello?' Deep breaths as I knock on the door. I'm building this up out of nothing; it's a fantasy I've apparently been entertaining too much. Kelly'll be her bright, brisk, professional self. But I can feel my balls tingling as I hear her welcoming response. As I enter the brightly, clinically lit room, she's busy fluffing towels over by the massage table, but looks up with a grin of recognition. More welcoming than usual? But then we're naturally getting more relaxed with each other after four sessions.

'Hi Ed,' she grins, with a degree of warmth that surprises and gratifies me. 'Come on in, I'll be right with you.' I close the door behind me, acting casual, relaxed. She's dressed in her usual white overalls and gym slippers, and I divert my mind from the supple, tanned body I suspect lies beneath. Her wheat-blonde hair is tied back revealing her sharp-featured, pretty face. The pastel-walled room, with its posters on the virtues of acupuncture and various styles of massage, Eastern and Western, is unchanged from before; so why am I more aware of its intimacy, complete with bed-table and en suite shower?

'How's the back?' she inquires. 'Have I made it better or worse?' It's the usual relaxed style of chat, but there's some indefinable difference in her tone that makes me wary. Look, stop being an asshole, Ed - this is some type of twisted wishful thinking. Don't fucking flatter yourself.

'Almost all better,' I say. 'Couple more sessions and I'll be fine.'

'And then I won't see you any more,' she says with a mock pout. I must register some of the surprise I feel, because she adds, 'Well you're easier to talk to than a lot of my clients. Take off your jacket.' I've been curiously immobile and she's noticed.

'So how was Valentine's?' I ask, slipping the jacket nonchalantly off my shoulders and draping it over a chair. Get the conversation straight on to her fella, don't focus on the fact that you'll soon be undressing in proximity to this girl.

Her face darkens. 'God, let's not go there,' she says. But after a long, angry sigh she does. 'The bastard was cheating on me.' I'm knocked back. This is not what I've been expecting. Or hoping for. I think. 'Yeah, I know,' she goes on. 'Think how stunned I was. Mr bloody Romance. Only he's gone and had it off with some girl he picked up at a night club. At the same happy hunting ground where he met me! Except one of my friends sees him. Stupid bastard.' She pauses, seeming a touch embarrassed. 'You're sorry you asked now.'

'No, I'm not - get it off your chest.' Good God, I'm quoting lines from a Seventies British sex comedy now! Confessions of a Massage Client With a Dodgy Back. Get it off your chest? For fuck's sake...

'So,' Kelly is finishing off, 'my Valentine's Day consisted of him trying to tell me it was only a one-off and he was drunk, as if that's supposed to console me, and then me finally telling him to piss off.'

'So is that it? No chance you'll get back together??' I hope I sound sympathetic rather than hopeful.

'No, that's that,' she shrugs, matter-of-factly. There's the slightest of pauses. 'So I'm single again. How did things go for you?'

'Oh - okay, okay,' I say. Don't want to set up my happy Valentine's evening against her crap one, after all. 'Went to a new Tapas place, exchanged cards, usual stuff. Sorry things didn't work out for you...'

She waves it away with a friendly smile. 'It's not your fault, Ed. Now go behind the screen and get stripped off for me.' She says this with a cheeky grin, flinging a towel my direction. 'And don't forget to wear that!'

Conversation has never been any problem with this girl, so why is every opening gambit dying in my throat right now? A great yawning silence is opening up, as I drop my shirt on the chair provided and set about unlacing my shoes. Don't be so bloody ridiculous, Ed. This is not a problem. Despite the fact she hasn't removed herself discretely from the room while I undress, like she usually does... Not a problem at all.

'No, I got too serious too soon with Nick.' Kelly's back on the subject of her break-up. I'm listening in a semi-daze, removing my trousers. 'Should have seen it for what it was. Should have seen him for what he was. No, Ed, it's given me a whole new attitude.'

'It has?' I want to hear, despite myself.

'Yeah - forget serious, forget meaningful. I just want to enjoy myself a bit.'

'Sounds fair enough.' I slip off my briefs.

'Yeah, if I meet someone I like, I'm just going to fuck him.' She applies a lusty weight to the f-word. Fuck with my head, more's the point! A powerful current channels from my brain to the root of my dick, as soon as she says it. I'm standing naked behind the screen in an aching conversational void, groping clumsily for my towel. 'So what do you think of that, Ed?'

What I think is, When did Kelly the sweet-natured masseuse become Kelly the husky-voiced little prick-tease? What I say is a stammered 'Well - I mean - yeah.' Okay Ed, don't lose your cool. Just wrap the towel around as loosely as possible - try to disguise your embarrassingly extending organ. 'You deserve to cut loose a bit after what he did to you.'

'You said it. Ready yet?'

I sidle sheepishly out from behind the screen, clutching my towel about me, vainly trying to hide the tent-pole effect at the front. Kelly's eyes flick momentarily there and back again to my face. Shit - my arousal is duly noted. 'Shame you're taken, or I might just have you here on the massage table,' she laughs. The come-on is jokey, but I must look as if I'm about to choke. 'Sorry Ed, I'm being wicked - I don't know what's come over me. Lie down on your stomach and I'll get the oil. You're safe with me.' But her smile is teasing and she brushes a soft hand across my upper arm before moving away. I have to adjust my hardened member in order to lie comfortably on the massage table.

She's small-talking in a relaxed fashion, as she pours the warm oil smoothly down my spine, but there's a sly undercurrent that's never been there before. My mind flits about for something else to cling to, but her hands are slowly, rhythmically kneading the back of my neck, and her words, whatever the hell she's saying, have a breathy, hypnotic quality to them.

'We'll have you back to the gym soon,' she's saying. 'You haven't lost any of your muscle tone in the meantime - still in really great shape.'

'Thanks,' I murmur, cheek pressed to the pillow, aware of her face hovering close above me, the scent of the oil mingling with her skin cream. She works her way insistently, skilfully down my spine.

'Your girlfriend's very lucky. She's done better than I did...Just don't tell her that you got excited before your massage.'

'Oh, sorry about that,' I say, tensing again in shock at the very mention. Sorry? She was the one introducing the subject of casual fucking!

'Relax, I'm joking!' she laughs. 'I know what you guys are like.' And she swoops down to run her hands firmly the length of my arms, so that her pony-tailed hair brushes across my neck. I can sense her mouth hovering close to the side of my face. 'Although I'm flattered you got hard before we'd even started.'

The last sentence is a soft, girlish whisper and even minutes later, when she's working her hands up my leg muscles, it has the blood pounding in my ears. Whatever blood, that is, that hasn't been pumped to my now totally swollen cock. She kneads away just below my ass for a moment. 'Tell me something Ed,' she ventures. 'I'd like the male perspective.'

'Sure,' I croak like a bewildered frog.

'I mean, here I am, day in, day out, getting on with my job. And every now and then I'll notice the guy I'm massaging has a hard-on. Mostly he'll have the decency to look embarrassed and try to hide it, and now and again I get some perv who looks really pleased with himself. So Ed, what I'm wondering is, do guys always, inevitably associate massage with sex?'

How fucking naive is this girl? I groan inwardly. Not very, it turns out.

'Tell me honestly, Ed - Do you get a regular stiff one when you're lying here?' There's playful mockery in her laughter as she says this. 'I know I've been very bad today, but - well - do you?'

Rising panic, to accompany my 'stiff one'. 'Kelly, I don't think we should be having this conversation.'

'It's just talk, that's all,' she says, reverting to surprised innocence. Her firm and steady kneading of the area marginally south of my buttocks continues. 'I mean, I'm not trying to flatter myself, but - do you reckon a lot of my male clients think of me sexually? Or do I just imagine that?' Her hands are lingering tantalisingly around my left upper thigh. She knows exactly how this male client thinks of her and is pressing it to her advantage.

'Well - I mean - it's just an involuntary reaction,' I stammer. 'You're an attractive girl whose job just happens to be...'

'...Rubbing oil all over nearly nude guys, yes I know,' she laughs silkily. 'I suppose I've just developed such a professional approach to it over time that I don't think about it in that way. Plus most of my clients don't do much to distract me. Most of my clients...' And she smoothes the oil slowly and deliberately between my legs, running her fingers lightly over my ball sac. 'Oops...'

I give a sharp, involuntary gasp. My cardiac activity is going crazy, my already inflated cock stretching against the towel beneath me. A very scary line has just been crossed by my masseuse. Oops? Don't acknowledge any line - just make light if it for fuck's sake! 'Careful where you put your hands!' I say, my breath shallow. 'I'm as good as married...' That did sound humorous, right?

'Sorry,' she says lightly and sweetly, retreating down my right leg. My state of panicked arousal remains however. She works away quietly for a little while, but it's just a lull before her next offensive on my libido, I know this. 'So Ed.' Her voice is soft, her manner offhand. 'You ever think about our massage sessions when you wank?'

That's it, I'm going to get off the table, grab my towel and get the fuck out as quickly as possible. Now. Right this second. Here goes... No. Can't do it. I haven't got further than prising myself up a bit with one hand. She'll only see my prick pointing to the ceiling if I move any more. 'Kelly, you can't ask me something like that!'

'Why not?' There's a disingenuous girlish sweetness in her voice.

'I'm engaged...'

'What, so you don't masturbate any more? You don't fantasise when you're on your own?'

'That's not what I meant! Look, I'm not like...like your...'

'My weasel of an ex-boyfriend? I know you're not like him, Ed.' She sounds genuinely affectionate. 'But you're still a guy.' She very purposefully begins to run her fingers back and forth along the sensitive strip of flesh between my asshole and my balls. Holy fuck, no...please no... I'm gasping audibly, half propped up on the table, unable to move. 'You like that, don't you? I don't think you want me to stop.'

'Kelly please...' I'm trying to fight the delightful, sinful sensations washing through my body, but she lays her other hand on my shoulder and with the words 'Just relax, darling' causes me to subside back on to the flat surface like a lost soul.

'Now you just lie there and let me massage that nice ass of yours.' I'm at her mercy, as she unfolds the towel at the back and uncovers my buttocks. There's that same quiet intensity in her voice, as she applies more oil to her hands and sets about me. 'There, darling...isn't that good? Now don't you worry about a thing. You're safe with me.' As her able fingers massage the warm oil slowly and rhythmically into my bum cheeks, I feel a vast distance from safe. I'm temporarily... yes, temporarily overpowered by an electric charge emanating from her work on my pelvic region to my entire body. It's wrong. It's guilty. It's fucking fabulous.

'What if your boss walks in?' It's a feeble effort, crawling its way from beneath the erotic cloak that's flapping about my brain.

'We're on friendly terms, she's very understanding,' Kelly reassures, and then she giggles. 'You know I'm sure she's entertained at least one boyfriend round here herself.'

I'm so far gone this only just registers. 'You mean...'

'Yes sweetheart, it's all planned.' She dribbles oil between my buttocks and delicately begins to smooth its warmth into my ass crack. The feeling is sensational. 'No one's going to disturb us. And there are no clients in the adjacent rooms. We can do as much or as little as you want.' Deftly she rims my asshole with a safely manicured finger, while her softly breathing mouth homes in on my ear, her teeth gently tugging on the lobe. 'You won't believe what I'm wearing underneath my uniform,' she tells me. 'Just for you. I haven't worn it since last summer on the beach in Ibiza.' She pauses to let that sink in, her naughty little index finger still circling. 'It might as well not be there.' And she slips her finger suddenly up my ass.

'Fuck!' That was a vocal ejaculation only, but with Kelly's intruding digit, I swear my cock has never felt bigger or more potentially explosive. 'God, Kelly...' I'm panting in agonised bliss. 'You - You bad little...'

'That feel good then?' she croons, stroking my neck with her free hand. 'Does it make you hard? Does it make you want to fuck me?'

'Kelly I can't...I'm engaged...'

'Our secret,' and she kisses the side of my face. 'Inside this room. Once you leave, it didn't happen.'

'But I'll know...I'll know...' It's close to a prayer.

She extracts her wicked finger. 'Okay,' she says gently. 'But just turn over. Turn over and look at me. See what you're turning down.'

I have to. I can't not. The imagined joys of her uncovered body have been lurking in my subconscious for weeks. But I instinctively clutch the towel over my bone-hard erection, as I flip on to my back. She retreats from the table, smiling an impish smile, and tugs at the front collar of her jacket with both hands. Metal press-studs pop apart one by one from top to bottom, each pop revealing more of her impressive upper body. Her delicate, gym-toned figure, tan topped up to a golden brown, is scarcely covered by an outrageous, day-glo orange, one-piece swimsuit. Twin strips of material plunge from her shoulders towards her crotch, clinging to the erect nipples of her perfectly suckable, pear-sized breasts. She lets the jacket slide from her slender arms and sets about loosening her uniform bottoms. Turning side on to me and jutting out her rear for full effect, she peels them from her gorgeously pert ass and pads out of them lightly; the swimsuit's string is swallowed up by her beautifully defined bum crack.

'So Ed,' she says, giving me a full-frontal blast of her near-naked, supple body, 'see anything you want to fuck?'

Oh God yes, I want to fuck her tight, waxed cunt, tucked away as it is beneath that sheer strand of swimsuit, very urgently. I want to work over that same cunt with my fingers and tongue before shoving my cock inside it and pumping for Britain. I'm getting married within the year and I want to nail this girl in the worst way.

'Just keep watching me, Ed,' she virtually croons, as she trickles massage oil down her front. She draws the strips of her scant costume away from her breasts and massages in the oil, both tits a neat, firm handful. 'I know you want to suck on these.' She tugs on her hard, dark-pink nipples for my guilty viewing pleasure, to the point that it must surely hurt her. 'And I know for sure you want inside this.' One delicate finger swoops below and slips beneath the swimsuit's crotch, wriggling its way up that secret, wet little fuck-hole. She appears to rotate her searching digit for a moment, biting her lip in pleasure, then she withdraws it with a slick little sound and with relish sucks it clean.

My whole world is now centred on how hard my cock feels, on the tightness of my balls. Her all-but-nude form moves gracefully, knowingly towards me. I don't even try to prevent her, as she takes my towel between her thumb and index finger and lightly plucks it away from my long, sturdy erection. Were it not for Amanda, my chief emotion here would be pride at how ample my member looks, lying there heavily, thick and purple-headed, a wet, silver strand linking its tip to my belly. 'Christ, Ed,' says Kelly in apparent appreciation, as she drops the towel to one side. 'I really hope that's all for me!' She brushes the underside of my cock with warm fingertips, sending a jolt through my whole nervous system, then she stoops down and with her tongue-tip deftly licks away the pre-cum from the head of my prick, eyeing me all the time.

'You little tease,' I whisper huskily, as she runs one soft palm over my chest and stomach and commences manipulating my spontaneously twitching cock with the other.

'So what are you going to do with this little tease?' she asks, in her most girlish voice, gently pinching my nipples and twanging my hard shaft so that it springs back against my stomach with a firm slap. 'You going to show her how a tease gets treated? You going to give her what a tease deserves?'

My hips are gently bucking now under her artistic touch. Thoughts of Amanda and weddings and fidelity are being forced to the margins of my thoughts by the primal urge to fuck and to fuck hard. Christ, I want to grab this girl, rip the flimsy swimsuit from her tight body and bang the living shit out of her. Some final thread of conscience is holding me back, however. Kelly's aware of this and sets about snapping it.

'Why don't I sit on your face, while you decide what you want to do to me?' Before the words have sunk in, she's raised herself on the side of the table and gymnastically swung a leg over me so she straddles my chest, then she hauls herself a foot up my body, pulls the swimsuit crotch to one side and wraps her toned thighs round my head. I have a fleeting impression of her naked, pink pussy descending on me, then the bottom half of my face is smothered by her sex, my mouth and nose overwhelmed by the taste and smell of her slithering, wet cunt-folds. Instinctively I slap my hands either side of her firmly plump ass to support her weight and help myself breath, as she begins to rock herself gleefully on my face, uttering happy little feminine moans. The tangy, natural perfume of her snatch is filling my nostrils and her nectar is pooling around my lips and chin, so what choice have I but to start licking my way into that wetly pulsating tunnel? The feeling is glorious - like thrusting my tongue into a ripe, salty peach and letting the juice flood my mouth.

I've got a firm hold of her gorgeous, tight bum-cheeks now, as she enthusiastically rides my face, already off the starting blocks and sprinting for an orgasmic finishing line. And she's a talker. 'Oh God, Ed - oh yeah, grab my ass, fuck me with your tongue, that's right. That feels so fucking good. Oooooh - lick out my cunt, sweetheart - oh yeah, you liking that? 'Cos I'm fucking loving it. Ohhhhh Christ - you want to fuck me properly after this? You want to give me your... Oh God, oh God I'm close - Oh keep doing that...' And her words dissolve into a series of crescendo-ing yelps as she hits her peak.

Her whole body begins to shudder and thrash, as she achieves her climax. My hands clamp tighter to her ass to support her and the slick, fleshy folds of her gash slither about my mouth and chin, smearing me with juice. The exotic taste of her is flowing down my tongue, thrust as it is up her hole, to the very back of my throat. Then, as her orgasm starts to subside, the soft inside of her cunt turns hyper-sensitive and she shivers and squirms, hardly able to bear the sensation.

'Oh - oh - Jesus - that's enough...' I grab her thighs and pull her closer to my face, sucking hard on her engorged clit to punish her. She squeals and laughs semi-hysterically, trying to pull away. 'Oh Christ, no baby, no - I can't stand it...' I'm fully enjoying this, I realise, enjoying having a little control at last, and yes - enjoying the thought of her gym-tightened body thrashing about on the end of my tongue. 'Oh God, stop, please! Please - let me suck your cock for you...'

God help me, I'm way past resisting. I release her tight cheeks from my grasp, enabling her to relieve her cunt of my teasing. Shaky but intent she swings her gorgeous body off the table and seconds later my prone member is taken in hand and gobbled up in her wet, sucking mouth. I can only surrender to the thrilling sensation of my cock-head being swathed in the caressing tongue of my over-friendly masseuse. Amanda's beautiful image is swimming tormentingly before my mind's eye, but my hips are undulating to the rhythm of Kelly's gentle slurping.

I look up with a need to witness what's being done, and see her staring wickedly at me, as she drools saliva down my shaft so that she can wank it more smoothly, all the time sucking the head. It's a delicious image and one that pushes me beyond some psychological boundary. I'm not just going to lie here passively accepting her seduction. I'm going to give the sexy little bitch what she obviously wants, along with whatever interest I can muster - I'm going to make her pay for what she's doing. Very shortly this cheating guy is going to empty the contents of his balls inside Kelly - the only question is which hole.

For a few moments I let her fabulous cock-sucking ministrations continue, then I sit up, grab her ponytail and yank her head up, away from my dick, eliciting a startled gasp. I clamber off the table, not letting go of her hair, then I grapple the rest of her lithe body to me and kiss her hard, locking her lips to mine, thrusting my tongue into her welcoming mouth. She kisses furiously in return, clutching my back, then sliding her hands down to my ass and pulling, so that my rearing cock is pulled flat against her stomach.

I drag her head back from mine by her ponytail and look into her reddened, panting face. 'I'm getting married later this year,' I say hoarsely. 'I shouldn't be doing what I'm about to.'

'You're allowed one last fling,' she says, her breath shallow. 'Just enjoy it and...'

'Look Kelly, just shut up the fuck up and get on to that table,' I tell her softly, giving her a gentle shove that bumps her ass into its side.

'Okay,' she mouths in quiet excitement, scrambling obediently on to the padded surface. Her eyes are locked on mine in anticipation.

I'm on her in an instant, tearing the inadequate bikini off her body in a rough and determined single move and climbing on to her, my angry, swollen cock homing in on the wet entrance opening up between her spreading thighs. Now I'm right over her, flicking a hardened nipple with my tongue and tugging it with my teeth hard enough to produce a little moan. Her taut, bare thighs are close against my waist. Then I feel the head of my dick brushing between them, nuzzling against her slippery cunt lips.

I'm frozen momentarily, primed above her for the initial thrust. Every inch of my body is tensed, holding back an immense charge of sexual energy that screams to be released. I'm about to fuck what will be my first pussy in four years other than Amanda's, for the simple reason that it's there. That it belongs to a hot, cock-stiffening wannabee-slut. Christ she's about to get fucking pounded.

'Come on sweetheart, what are you wait...' And before she can finish, I roll my hips and thrust the whole length of my cock inside her, like I'm slamming home a door bolt. She expels a great gasp of air as my body slams into hers. I grab her upper arms and set about fucking her with hard, deep thrusts, loving the way each impact jars her slender form.

'That what you want? That what you were looking for?' I start to build up a steady, pumping rhythm, propping myself up so I can see her flushed face and lovely jolting tits.

'Yes, oh fuck yes...' she moans, and she holds on to my arms, as I continue to shaft her tight, sucking tunnel. Gradually I build up the speed of my pistoning cock, till I'm properly hammering her cunt. The head of my prick is spearing deep inside her, while my balls slap, slap, slap against her ass. She begins to let out a sharp gasp with each penetrating thrust and her nails dig into the flesh of my arms. I could easily carry this on till I spurt, but there are other ways I want to enjoy her now.

Slowing down, I gradually withdraw my pole from her juiced-up pussy, my eyes still fixed on her sex-charged visage. 'Get on all fours,' I tell her, already guiding her into the required position.

'Whatever you say,' she pants, with a flicker of her teasing smile. 'Keep it coming, you big fucking stud.' I gaze at the wet, red slash of her so recently-reamed pussy, running my palms over her delicately muscled ass. Then I deliver a sharp slap to her right buttock, making her yelp and look back at me in amused shock. Having got her attention, I apply a series of stinging slaps turn-about to both ass cheeks, breaking off mid-way through to stick two fingers into her soaking slit, so that my spanking proceeds to smear cunt-juice over her ripe posterior.

'Ow - ow - OW!!! God baby, you're so bad!' she cries out playfully. 'That's right, spank me like your little slut, be bad to me!' Well okay then.

'That's - what - little - teases - get,' I grunt in time to the final few extra-hard, cheek-reddening whacks, then I grip Kelly by the thighs and drag her back towards my still rampant cock. 'Along with this,' I add. And I plunge my carefully positioned rod back into her waiting juice-box. She squeals and laughs with delight.

I no longer give a shit. This feels fucking amazing. Half and hour ago Kelly was the nice-girl masseuse, who gently worked knots out of my recuperating back. Now she's the hot piece of ass being used by my illicitly pumping cock. Yes I know she's inwardly grinning, I know she's the one who's conquered me along with all my scruples and good intentions, that this is exactly what she's planned all along. But on a point of pride I want her to feel this. I want her body to register every slamming thrust. When she gets up tomorrow morning, I want her cunt to know it's been fucked.

And she encourages me the whole way. 'Oh yes - oh yes Ed, that's right, keep going, fuck me hard...'

'God, Kelly - you...you...'

'Tell me what I am, Ed, go on, you know you want to...'

'You little bitch!' I'm gripping her shoulder now with one hand, grabbing her tits in the other and squeezing them together, my cock probing her deeply all the while. 'Come on - Come on, Kelly,' I urge her, falteringly at first. 'Take it - take it you hot fucking bitch!' I've never spoken to a woman like that before in my life, wouldn't dream of saying such a thing to Amanda, but if that's what Kelly wants... And there's something so fucking liberating about it. It doesn't matter that I've always liked or respected this girl - right now she's there just to get me off and I'm possessed with the need to let her know it. 'That's it, come on, take it, take it like a slut, take it like the hot little...cock-bitch you are!' Cock-bitch? Where the hell did that come from?

Kelly's only response is a prolonged, low groan, punctuated by each intrusion of my dick into her body. All her playfulness has been displaced by pure desire. She embarks on her own string of obscenity, as she moves inexorably towards her second orgasm. 'Oh yes, oh fuck - give it to me, keep it coming you horny bastard - screw me hard you dirty fucker - Oh shit, yes!!!' I grab her ponytail once more and drag her head up, accentuating the curve of her back and the swell of her tight rump as her pussy clenches on my driving pole. My hold on her hair and that of my other hand on her taut waist control her renewed, whole-body spasms, but nothing contains the joyous stream of filthy verbiage pouring from her hot mouth. 'Oh God - fuck my cunt, fuck my cunt, you filthy bastard - Oh shiiiit!!!'

Her body starts to go limp as the orgasmic wave subsides, but I can feel my own crisis approaching and I've got more work for her to do. I ease my prick with a slurp out of her drenched hole and drag her with me off the table into standing position, supporting her under the arms as her legs threaten to give under her.

'Okay, get on your knees,' I demand quietly.

Still reeling after her climax, it's a natural position for her to assume. She looks at me challengingly, however, as she sinks floorwards, toying with me to the last. 'You going to make me your bitch?' she asks breathlessly. 'That what you're going to do?'

'You're already my bitch,' I tell her, warming to my new-found wickedness. 'Now shut up and suck my cock.' Then as she opens her mouth and reaches forward with her tongue, I stick my fully engorged pole past her lips, jam her head down on to me and fuck her face. Slimed with cunt juice, my bulging prick is driving in and out of her surprised, wet mouth, as her tongue writhes about, trying to tame my invading organ. I'm crazed with lust now, at the sight of pretty Kelly gorging herself on my thick member, and I ram my entire length several times down her throat, causing her to choke and gurgle on me. I pull out, thick ropes of saliva dangling between the end of my shaft and her tongue. She gazes up at me and I'm gratified to see a touch of shock that she's drawn out this much nastiness from her mild-mannered client.

'Now here's what's going to happen,' I explain with lascivious enjoyment. God, what has this girl done with my head? 'You're going to suck the cum right out of my balls and then you're going to take it down your throat. Okay?' She nods, playing along with an expression of meek acceptance, and slurps my purple-headed shaft purposefully back in her mouth. I take her head once more and commence sliding my meat back and forth, as her cheeks turn concave and she sucks me like a vacuum pump, darting her tongue along the underside of my shaft. I build up a steady thrusting, fucking my way gradually deeper into her throat, orgasmic urgency now rising in my balls.

'That's good, that's good, you cock-sucking little bitch. Suck it deep, come on...' She grabs my ass with both hands and gamely inhales my entire cock, so that my bollocks are bouncing off her chin. I feel my whole body starting to tense, my scrotum tightening, and instinctively I weave my fingers through her hair and begin to repeatedly push her head down on to me, using her throat as I recently did her pussy.

I'm achieving a pitch of outrageous sexual excitement, as if every particle of my body is gearing up to propel my cum into Kelly's stomach. I pound her throat and cut loose with my own spontaneous stream of deranged filth. 'Suck my fucking cock, come on, drink my spunk you fucking horny bitch! Oh fuck - holy fucking God...'

My balls start to clench involuntarily, unleashing a huge, pent-up surge of cum up my shaft. It bursts out of the end of my cock and gushes, spurt after glorious spurt down Kelly's crammed gullet, as my throat gives vent to a strangled orgasmic howl. 'Ohhhhhhh God - fuck...' I genuinely empty my balls into lovely Kelly, taking a good half dozen blasts, my dick shoved so far past her larynx that she couldn't avoid swallowing if she tried. Then drained, the former contents of my scrotum washing around my fuck-partner's stomach, I feel my legs give way and I crumple towards the floor, my cock flopping heavily out of her mouth.

Before my knees touch down, the reality of my situation has flooded back into my lust-assuaged brain. I'm a cheat... After four years with Amanda, endless protestations of love and a two thousand pound engagement ring, I've just fucked the hell out of my physical therapist first chance I got. I've behaved like some person I don't begin to recognise. Don't remind me of anything I told you when I arrived here. Just don't remind me.

'You'll have to forgive me,' Kelly says sweetly. 'I get a bit unladylike sometimes, but only when the sex is really good... Did I imagine it, or did you use the word cock-bitch?'

'Ehhh - yes, I might have done...'

I kneel, holding on to Kelly's perspiring form, my head resting lightly against hers. Dubious sex-talk is somehow the least of my worries right now. Kelly seems to sense my renewed mental turmoil. 'You okay?' she whispers, as her breath returns. 'You okay, sweetheart?'

'I...I... Oh holy God, Kelly,' I moan. The rest I can't put words to. She holds me in a prolonged hug, but it only adds to my sense of shame. What the fuck have I done?

It's all gone hazy. Kelly is leading me to the shower cubicle. She's soaping and rinsing me, with loving attention applied to my cock. Now she's towelling me down, with an affectionate 'why worry?' ruffle of my hair. Finally I'm standing fully clothed, my masseuse-with-benefits back in her uniform - all sweat, cum and cunt juice mopped away as if nothing had happened. Then she crosses her arms behind my neck and places a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. 'You're a sweet guy, Ed. It was very bad of me to take advantage. Now don't you go worrying yourself about this.'

I manage a half-smile and gently release myself from her hold. 'Okay then, eh - thanks,' I say lamely. 'Thanks for - eh - Look, I'd - I'd better go.'

I move sheepishly towards the door, but am stalled by her question: 'See you next week? Check out we haven't just done your back another mischief?' There's an undeniable logic to her cheeky remark, but also the scary prospect of some awful vicious circle being created.

'I'm not sure that's a good idea,' I say, trying to raise a smile to cover my sense of dread. 'Maybe just leave it.'

'Pity,' she responds, biting her lip with the same coy impishness as earlier. 'I think you enjoyed being a bad boy, didn't you? I liked it too. Plus, if you came back... I might just let you fuck my ass.' Oh my holy Christ. The thought hangs in the air between us for a long, aching moment. 'But you think it over,' she says softly.

As I leave the spa and walk into the gathering dusk, I know only two things. One - the guilt from what I've just done is going to weigh on me like a millstone, burdening my every waking thought and blighting every moment I spend with Amanda, so it's all I can do to look her in the eye. And two - I'll be back next week for Kelly's hot little ass.

HE DONE A BAD THING

Paul Rushton always thought about Demi when he jerked off in the shower those days. He considered briefly and sadly that morning, as he soaked under the steaming jets and lathered up his solidifying cock, how long it had been since he pictured his wife during his early morning manual efforts. Countless years, was the sorry answer.

In the early days of his and Martha's marriage solo self-manipulation had not even been necessary, so hearty had been their sex life. The only masturbation taking place had been in each other's company, often with a friendly and helpful exchange of hands. Even the arrival of baby Sophie had only temporarily slowed things down; an adequate supply of sitters had given them space to renew their favourite hobby by the time she was only a few months old. But when Adam and Carl had made their unexpected joint appearance three years later, something had faded away that they had never managed to resuscitate. The twins were five now, both packed off along with Sophie to school, but the only thing that had renewed itself was Martha's career in advertising. Which was what had left Paul home alone this morning, enjoying a more leisurely wank than usual, before he busied himself otherwise in his study.

His masturbatory fantasies had remained general up to the start of the summer, attached to media celebrities and the occasional internet porn-site, but all that had changed when Demi arrived. The crescent moons of those butt cheeks, peeking out saucily from beneath her skin-tight, white shorts one sweltering afternoon, had kicked things off. He had sprung a boner in his shorts as soon as look at her bending over the kids' paddling pool - no traceable panty-line, just a thin layer of cotton fabric stretched taut over firm, smooth bum-flesh - and had needed to jack it off in the bathroom before he could begin to focus on anything else.

Paul had never deliberately entertained sexual thoughts of the family's eighteen-year-old nanny, but she had begun to cloud his brain as completely as the steam that clouded the shower's glass door. It was through this panel that he had glimpsed her bouncy young form one morning, when the bathroom door's locking mechanism had apparently failed, a vision straight out of a shower gel commercial. As if the jaunty swing of her curvy little body around the house had not been enough... Yes, the sexy Canadian girl, with her glossy, raven-black hair and her deep tan, had become quite the mental fixture. The pressure of her ripe young breasts against his chest, as she hugged him goodbye just the day before was on his mind right now, as he massaged his gel-slick shower-time erection.

Had Martha ever been aware of the Demi-effect on her husband's cock? Certainly she had suggested gently to the girl on one occasion that she refrain from dressing down so much on the hotter summer afternoons. But that was most likely to avoid the neighbours' raised eyebrows. Even Paul's renewed gym membership had not aroused any suspicions. You might expect your wife, he thought, to be more aware of a nubile teenager's power to distract her spouse. But Martha had been too happy about her renewed freedom in building up her work portfolio to check whether his eyes were straying Demi's direction. Besides, when was the last time she had seriously acknowledged him as a sexual being? She had obviously expected his libido to fold suddenly on his fortieth birthday. Like that was going to happen...

The current soapy frothing around Paul's dick as his hand movement quickened had all to do with imagination of course, nothing with reality. Demi had been the embodiment of innocence around the house; sprightly, amenable, a big sister to the kids. Always polite and friendly, never presumptuous, with Martha and Paul and over the few short months of summer had been accepted almost as a family member. Paul she had treated like an uncle; a hip, young-for-his-age uncle, maybe, but an uncle even so. The compliments she had passed several weeks into his fitness regime, when he had tightened his belly and regained some of his old muscle tone, could have been construed as borderline flirtation, similarly when she had remarked on the cropping of his moderately receding hair - it made him look 'younger and - kinda stronger' apparently. But he was too much of a realist to flatter himself unduly; if his wife didn't think of him sexually, why should a girl fresh out of High School?

Paul shouldn't have been saddened by the fact. He didn't want or need that sort of trouble and had done nothing, short of a little additional preening, to court it. He should have be glad that all Demi's burgeoning youthful urges had stayed separate from her work. With the arrival of the new primary-school term her summer job had ended and she had departed the Rushton household for good, leaving Paul with a mixture of relief and regret. The regret he was currently working off with the palm of his right hand.

There had, of course, been one slip-up in Demi's professionalism and the memory of it tapped into the ever-building friction on his shaft. The night he and Martha had returned early from dinner with friends to find their hired help tiptoe on the doorstep, kissing some good-looking young guy good-night. It had been her new boyfriend Ray, she explained with red-faced embarrassment once he had left, and he had only ever been round that one evening, and all they had done was watch a DVD. That wasn't the point, Martha explained in a sharp rebuke to the girl. Demi had introduced a stranger into the house without permission - a violation of trust and grounds for dismissal based on the agency contract. It had not come to that, but Martha had still withheld the forty pounds Demi had been promised for an additional Saturday night in and had remained heedless of the girl's forlorn protests that it had been an innocent mistake, one that wouldn't happen again.

The innocence of Demi's evening-in with her boyfriend Paul held in grave doubt. He had recognised the type of kiss Ray had been given and the disarray of the sofa in the living-room. It had been obvious to him that the flush of the nanny's cheeks stemmed from more than shame. Lucky Ray had roared off on his motor bike as cocky as hell, unphased by any sense of social awkwardness. Now there, Paul had thought, was a young buck who knew his way around a naïve eighteen-year-old girl. There was no doubt in his mind that Ray had fully enjoyed the young Canadian on the Rushton family sofa that night and despite a pang of jealousy, he could not blame the guy.

Deep down some perverse aspect of him actually hoped it were the case. He hoped Ray had got Demi naked on the sofa cushions that night, that he had parted her toned young legs and put his cock inside her. Yes, he hoped young Demi had taken a good, hard shafting that night. That she had been forced to stifle her moans, as her opportunist biker-boyfriend serviced her in somebody else's home. Go for it Ray old son, I'd have done it myself at your age. If I can't poke the little sweetheart, then you do it for me and good luck to you. Strip her down and drill her fucking brains out. Go on, let her know what it's all about... Let her fucking feel it...

Paul's hand stopped mid-stroke, as the sound of his mobile phone cut into his lustful reverie, leaving him just shy of his spurting relief. He clambered dripping from the shower, pissed off at his interrupted wank, his undealt-with erection waving in front of him. He knew he should answer the call; it could be Derek from work with news of whether or not the firm had landed the Phillips contract. But the phone rang off before he got to it and the number was withheld, leaving him puddling on the bathroom floor and feeling rather stupid. Disgruntled he turned back to the shower to retrieve his fantasy.

It was then that he heard the other sound, the one from next door. Even above the rush of still-running water the heavy thud was obvious. Someone was in the bedroom. Martha home from work? He couldn't begin to think why. But then who else? Still running with water he picked up his bathrobe and pulled it about himself, then he put his hand gently to the door handle. He was being robbed at ten-thirty in the morning? Some inept, juvenile burglar had walked in through the back door he had so blithely left unlocked? And were they really so bold as to enter his bedroom with someone so obviously using the en suite? A quick scan of the bathroom took in nothing more threatening than a loofah with which to confront such a possibility, but confront it he did nonetheless. His heart quickening slightly, Paul pulled open the door and walked into the bedroom.

He stopped abruptly as soon as he entered the room and looked on stunned. The very object of his aborted masturbation was standing at the bedside, staring back with a look of shock that surpassed his own. 'Demi?'

She had visibly jumped with fright at his entry and now stood in a full-body attitude of horror, Paul's wallet tumbling from her hand to the floor and two banknotes fluttering after it. The lamp on the bedside table had shifted position, as if returned there hastily after some panic-induced accident had knocked it to the floor. Paul stared back at her, his amazement and confusion rapidly morphing into anger.

'Demi - what are you doing?' The question sounded ridiculous, but it still bore asking.

The ex-nanny looked half-disposed to dash for the window and take her chances with the drop, but tried to stammer an explanation instead. 'It's - it's - it's not what it looks like...'

Paul was having difficulty finding words himself. 'It's not what...? Demi, you left yesterday! What are you doing here with my wallet?' Another redundant question. 'How is this not what it looks like?'

'I - I wasn't stealing,' Demi insisted, her tone scared and unconvincing. 'I was just taking the forty pounds, you know, the forty pounds you owed me... For Saturday last...' But her voice was tailing off even as she said it, as Paul stared at her in fresh astonishment.

'Martha withheld that money because you went behind our backs! You brought a stranger into our house while we were gone! She - We made that perfectly clear to you!'

'I know, I know I screwed up.' Demi's voice was desperate, pleading. 'But I worked really hard all summer, it was just one mistake! And... and then the other girls from the agency were going down to Brighton today and I didn't have any spare cash and I just got to thinking... well... that you owed me the money!' She winced as the words left her mouth, as though she knew she had played the wrong card.

'We owe you nothing!' Paul's righteous anger was compromised by a baser emotion, which registered against the cloth of his robe just below the belt. 'Martha was perfectly within her rights to... Look, I don't even have to justify it! I've just caught you thieving from me!' He saw Demi's bottom lip tremble, her wide, brown eyes turn dewy, as she squirmed in front of him, gorgeous in her blushing guiltiness. His pole was threatening to nudge its way into the open and he countered its spontaneous reaction with a further burst of indignation. 'I should report this to the Police. At the very least I'm going to notify the agency.'

'No, no please!' Demi raised her hands imploringly before her plump, quivering bosom. 'Don't do that, I'd have to go home! I'd never work here again!'

'You don't deserve to!' exclaimed Paul, a fizzing cocktail of anger, disbelief and lust. 'We treated you like family, we trusted you! Then you steal back into the house to thieve from me... It's such a betrayal!' he made for the bedside phone, more to stop his erection from popping out of his robe than anything else, and in her alarm Demi pounced forward, seizing an arm.

'No Paul, please, I beg of you! I don't know what came over me, pleeeeeze...' Her eyes beseeched along with her piteously wailing voice. She had scarcely ever called him 'Paul' before, had not seemed able to bring herself to, but now she was imploring, appealing to the degree of friendship that had developed between them. He could smell her mint-freshened breath and see the beads of perspiration on the soft shelf of her jutting cleavage. The family nanny was pressed against his chest - over her head in trouble and achingly fuckable. The last of his anger resolved itself into hard lust and without ever having planned to, he lifted his hand and touched the skin exposed by her skimpy top. He watched his fingers, as if they belonged to someone else, tracing a path from the curve of her throat, over the soft, damp upper slopes of her breasts. His heartbeat was thumping in his ears, his head was almost swimming, as rational thought was sidelined by desire. All Paul knew was he wanted to see those breasts stripped free of Demi's clingy little top.

'Mis - Mister Rushton... What - What are you doing?' Demi's panic turned to startled, rabbit-like surprise.

Paul looked up at her confused face and did not remove his hand from her bosom. 'You know what I'm doing, Demi,' he said, the blood thundering in his head as he uttered the words. 'This doesn't have to go any further. I'm sure you and I can find a way to put things right.' He could scarcely believe the words that were sounding from his lips, but a kind of wicked resolve was hardening within him along with his dick. Amazement was registering in Demi's pretty face as his meaning dawned on her, but he slipped a finger into the slick fissure between her breasts just to help his words sink fully in.

'But - But Mr Rushton, we can't... You mustn't...' Her cheeks flushed a deeper crimson as she said it. 'It's not right!'

'Neither's robbing your employer,' Paul responded more firmly, and his free hand lifted the phone off its cradle as he did so. 'Now you don't want me to make that call, do you?' He knew at that moment he would go wherever this took him. The tips of his fingers brushed lightly up from Demi's cleavage to stroke her jaw line. They were both panting, he realised, as if short of breath. Demi stared back at him, as if struggling her way through some terrible quandary.

'No, no don't phone,' she responded weakly. 'What do you want me to...?'

'Take your top off.' Paul felt the pulse in his already rigid cock as he said it. He was still holding the receiver. 'Go on.'

Demi appeared to weigh up her options for another moment, then she clutched the damp fabric of her top with both hands and with a swift movement pulled it over her head and free of her upper body. Her hair flounced around her shoulders and her newly exposed breasts bounced gently before him like juice-swollen oranges on the tree. The top she threw to the floor with a dazed, slightly petulant air of 'That what you wanted to see?' Paul's eyes roved freely over her, taking in her slim shoulders and taut stomach, but chiefly lingering on those high, perfect orbs. Her large, rose-brown nipples stood out within pale triangles of bikini-guarded flesh, which contrasted with the rest of her bronzed skin. Their fascinated observer set the phone back on its cradle and reached out with both hands to claim his unexpected prize.

Demi took a sharp little gasp of breath, as Paul seized the globed flesh of her tits, squeezing to sample her firmness. He caught her perplexed look as she was groped so wantonly and felt a flaring of conscience at using her like this on the back of her moment's madness. But then he recalled the seriousness of her crime, how little she deserved to be let off the hook. And here he was doing just that, for the price of a little free time with her lissom young body. Yes, here he was, his shower-time fuck fantasy having suddenly metamorphosed into flesh and blood reality, as if the sheer power of his lust had conjured her out of nothing. Didn't he owe it to every frustrated male who wanked solo in the shower to stick it to this hot little thief? To stuff his manhood right inside her on behalf of their hard, deprived dicks? Fucking right he did. He tightened his hold and kneaded the two handfuls of supple tit-flesh until their owner moaned.

'God, your breasts are beautiful,' he breathed, squeezing the ripe fruit to further accentuate Demi's big nipples. He sucked on them in turn, sucked their rubber hardness right into his mouth, so that she cried out a little each time. Then he rubbed his thumbs over the moistened nubs till they were perfectly erect. Responding to the demands of his cock, he dropped to his knees to deal with the rest of her clothing and expose that beautiful body.

Demi was uttering little confused moans above him and clenching her elbows in front of her recently molested tits, as he slid his fingers under the band of her shorts and dragged them free of her hips. Her pubic mound was tucked away between reflexively tightened thighs under a scrap of blue thong. He paused one reverential, poker-stiff moment before her teen sanctum, then he tugged the panties all the way down past her knees, letting them drop to her ankles, and gazed on the pale strand of tan-line that matched her breasts and the neat strip of trimmed, dark thatch leading down between her thighs. The faintest tang of musky female scent was in his nostrils and, grabbing her shapely ass with both hands, he buried his mouth and nose between her legs, tongue searching.

Demi gave a frightened squeal and threatened to topple over, as he writhed between her soft labia into the sweetness beyond. Finding nothing else to support her she grabbed the back of Paul's head, inadvertently pulling him tighter against her surprised cunt. His tongue burrowed further into the folds of her deliciously moistening flesh, then he searched upwards and found the fleshy little nodule of her clitoris. It felt suddenly like she was melting into his face, that her body's instinctive apprehension was dissolving into semi-acceptance. He lapped his tongue over her enlarging bud some further moments, as her little starts and cries subsided into what sounded like a long, lip-biting moan. Then encouraged by her response he rose to his feet, pulled her naked body to him and kissed her mouth, long and deep. Her lips and tongue moulded into union with his, but her hands wafted vaguely around his head and shoulders, as if she could not make that final submission to her unexpected fate.

Paul eased his lips from hers and stared at her face in its heat and confusion. 'Get down on your knees.' The instruction was gentle and he stroked her cheek lightly as he gave it, but she seemed to comprehend how desperately he wanted her mouth on his sex. She lowered herself meekly to the floor without a word of objection, as he opened his bathrobe. It fell away from his body and he stood naked and proudly erect before her. She knelt, staring at his arousal, her fingers fluttering around the head and shaft, as if she could not quite believe that her avuncular ex-employer had a cock that got hard, one that got hard for her. 'Go on, sweetheart,' he told her softly, feeling her hot breath on the taut skin of his glans. 'Show me what you know.'

Paul's breath was still, as she parted her full lips and enclosed them about the swollen bulb of his prick. For the first time in over six months he felt the warmth and wetness of a woman's mouth around his cock; he scarcely cared that it was not his wife's. Demi stared up at him, pretty mouth stretched in a wide exclamation about his thickened shaft, eyes wide pools of disbelief at what she was having to do. His fingers idly teased her black hair and he nodded to her in encouragement. She gripped his pelvis with soft hands and sucked him rhythmically, her tongue tracing the thick veins on the underside of his rod. 'Oh God, Demi...' His vision was blurring with the ecstasy of sensation. 'You do that really well.' She responded by inhaling more of him inside her mouth and sucking more insistently, having obviously decided to extricate herself from her predicament whatever it took. He let her take him further to the back of her mouth, gently increasing his fingers' pressure on the back of her head to aid her. The sweet ex-help was working gamely, he thought, eyeing him for reaction, as she wetted the greater part of his length with her softly slurping mouth, pretty cheeks hollowed, as she applied delicious suction. Blissful shudders coursed through his whole body from the surface of his cock, as his reluctant attendant pleasured him so gorgeously.

Paul watched the way Demi's hair brushed her tanned shoulders. Lower down he could see her smooth, round tits bounce gently as she slurped on him. His cock had not felt this pumped in years, not since his and Martha's sex life had foundered on the rocks of family responsibility. He was actually finding out what long-haired Ray had experienced on the sofa that night: the joy of that able little Canuck mouth. And he was going to learn more - he was going to find out the secrets of that tight, teenage pussy. Delectable though Demi's cock-sucking was, much as he'd have loved to let his balls ditch their salty cargo down her throat, he withdrew from her lips' velvet caress with a soft 'plop' and drew her mutely to her feet. She stared at him, her embarrassment at the recent phallating activity tinged with reluctant excitement.

'That was so, so wonderful,' he said with breathy gratitude, about to push her down on to the bed, so he could swiftly commence to fuck her in missionary. Then Martha's triple-mirrored dresser caught his eye, the one on which he had banged his wife times past, able to enjoy three reflected angles of her nude, bucking body. Now in the absence of those marital delights it was Demi's turn. 'Come with me.' Demi stumbled as they moved off, the discarded thong catching around her trainer-clad feet, and he supported her by her arm and her trim waist, as she kicked herself free. He watched the quake of her bubble ass as she did so, how it shook just perceptibly, as he guided her towards the dresser. His cock was an enormous ramrod of desire, sticking straight out in front of him and poking Demi accidentally in the small of her smooth back as they went.

He pushed her face-forward against the ornate piece of furniture so that her rear jutted out and on a sudden impulse he whacked those dimpled cheeks with the hard flat of his hand. 'Owww!' Demi yelped and stared back at him in dismay. 'What are you doing?'

Paul held her down with a hand in the small of her back, his cock throbbing from his new audacity and the feel of the girl's bare ass beneath his palm; he had a sudden, fierce urge to make that pretty behind sting before he banged her. 'You've been a - naughty- girl!' he informed, punctuating his words with a couple of hefty slaps to Demi's buttocks and making her squeal some more. 'And I'm going to show you what - happens to - naughty - girls!' Her cute bottom quivered each time he struck; he could see in the mirror how her suspended breasts jogged at every application of his hand. Their eyes met in the reflective surface. There was a look of sorrowful surprise in Demi's face, but he could feel how moist her pussy was beneath his palm. 'What do you think happens?' Somewhere deep down there was amazement at how fully he had embraced this new assumed persona. He held her gaze and addressed her like a teacher, eager to draw the correct answer from his star pupil. 'What do you think, Demi?'

'They get spanked?' she ventured, face suffused with a variety of emotions.

'Oh it goes without saying they get spanked.' He demonstrated with another resonant whack to her rear. 'Of course they get their hot little bottoms spanked.' This time her whole body jolted and tears welled in her eyes, so that he stayed his hand from smacking her again. 'What happens then, Demi?' he prompted lightly, holding her with his stare.

'They get... They get fucked.' It was the mournful tone of a girl submitting, however bewildered, to her sexual fate.

'Oh yes they do.' Paul stroked his hand gently over her neatly curved body, shown off as it was in triplicate by broad mirrors. Standing there he felt undiluted in his erotic instinct. He wasn't a harassed dad or a struggling businessman any more, just a sexual animal, primed to bury his seed inside his chosen female, in an act of pure gratification. Maybe he could have got to such a point again by making more effort with his wife, trying harder to communicate with her again. He could have talked her into accompanying him to marriage guidance sessions, shovelled his way alongside her through the accumulated crap of a stale marriage. Found a way back to where they could relax with each other and relearn the unrestrained joys of their physical union. But it was turning out much easier just to blackmail and fuck the nanny.

He pushed Demi up on tiptoe, shunted her legs apart and pressed the swell of his cock-head against the wet slash between her legs. She propped herself up and peered back over her shoulder, her face full of anxious wonder. 'I can't believe you're doing this, Mr Rushton!'

'Believe it,' he muttered, the first inch of his dick slipping into her slick groove. His hands adhered in preparation to her trim waist. 'Believe it, sweetheart.' And he pushed, hard. His cock impaled her in a single mighty thrust that lifted her right off her feet, as he released a huge grunt of exertion. She cried out in shock, her hands scrabbling desperately at the dresser top for support, feet dangling off the carpet, speared as she was by his weapon's driving intrusion. Paul might have eased off following his initial exuberance in response to her cry, but the sense of his swollen presence inside her clinging, wet tunnel was too delicious. He withdrew and surged in again, filling her up and making her scream once more. 'Oh God, that feels so fucking good,' he groaned, pounding her a third time on the 'fuck' syllable. She was pushed tight up against the polished wood surface by now and he set about her hard and fast, encouraged by her pussy's silky wetness that her reaction was at the very least ambiguous. Her hands had found purchase on the back of the dresser underneath the central mirror, and she clung on fiercely, releasing a sharp, breathy cry every time he plunged his cock. He could see her beautiful, suspended tits in the mirrors, shivering on each impact. Her face was scarlet with a confusion of emotions. She could clearly not take in that her kind, respectful ex-employer was doing this to her.

And Paul could see himself as well - not the flagging, middle-aged family-man he had verged on becoming used to, but an energised, virile male, taking full advantage of this pretty youngster and her compromised situation. Rutting on her like a stud still in his twenties. He bent low over her back as he ploughed her, his perspiring face inches from hers. 'You sweet, sweet girl, you pussy feels so fucking tight!' She had grown more used to his frantic pumping by now and uttered only a stupefied moan in reply. 'Oh God, darling, you don't know how much I've wanted to do this... How much I've wanted to fuck you...' He felt transformed, a different human being - one both younger and more wicked, huge and hard inside this tight eighteen-year-old. 'And we can forget all about what happened earlier, don't you see?'

'Yeah,' Demi gasped. 'Yeah... Oh God, you're fucking me so hard!' Her words did nothing to restrain him, rather they fired him up to do her even harder. He began drawing himself out almost to the head, then forging back in again with a driving pelvis, until the dresser began to creak and shake under his invigorated cock-slamming. A bottle of Martha's Chanel No. 5 slipped off the wood surface and went bouncing across the carpet, as his body impacted loudly and persistently against hers.

Paul eased off quickly, before the room could be caused any real damage. He pulled his slick, hard cock out of Demi and pulled her away from the dresser. 'Come on, let's go to the bed.' She was stumbling again, this time it seemed from sheer disorientation at having her pussy so soundly shafted. Paul, her impromptu blackmailer, steered her the right direction and bundled her peachy little form on the covers he had straightened only a little earlier. 'Hold on to the headboard.' He was not prepared to wait a moment longer than he had to. The veins were bulging on his engorged prick and he wanted back inside her very badly. Demi, totally cowed by now, acquiesced without a murmur, even stretching her knees apart to allow easier passage. Paul fitted himself, grabbed tight hold of her shoulders and roared back into her sucking cunt, his balls slamming into her cushioning ass-cheeks as he arrived. 'Ohhhhh fuck yes,' he muttered through clenched teeth as she cried out again, and he checked out the beautiful sight of his thick shaft pumping in and out of her stretched, soaking hole. 'God, Demi, you don't know how good this feels, you've no fucking idea...'

But she was sharing more than he'd suspected, for a moment later she was moaning and flinching, then one hand strayed from the headboard and travelled almost as far as the wetness between her legs. She stopped short, as if reluctant to acknowledge her own excitement. Paul caught her hand, thrilled at the revelation of her full arousal, and guided her the rest of the journey. 'Go on, Demi, it's okay. Wank yourself, get yourself off!' He could feel her fingers busying themselves under his, and he could feel how slippery she was about her inflated clitoris. His own hand returned to her shoulder as she frigged herself heatedly and he refocused on ramming the depths of her pussy.

Demi's orgasm arrived within moments, her rhythmic moans building in pitch and pace to a staccato 'oh-oh-oh-oh', her whole body clenching as her fingers strummed frantically between her thighs. Her cunt, already tight around Paul's thrusting member, clutched it fiercely as she spasmed beyond control. The sensation, along with the sight of her shuddering young body and sound of her mewling little orgasmic cries, sent him careering towards the peak of his own excitement. He let go her shoulders and clamped his hands to her thrust-out, hard-nippled breasts, pushing aside her frigging-arm in the process, and squeezed them till their fleshy firmness seemed to melt between his fingers. She was still thrashing on his cock, her body driving repeatedly back on to his as she came and came.

The pressure had built to bursting point in Paul's cum-swollen balls. He felt for all the world as if he were about to blow Demi off himself and against the wall, as in some obscene cartoon, at the end of a great sperm-geyser. Every muscle in his body seized and he clutched Demi's tits all the harder, as his lock-gates opened and he released his huge, pent-up reserve. It surged through the tubes of his rigid cock with a glorious sense of pumping release. Paul's head was thrown back and he was howling at the ceiling, as his thick, hot essence gushed out in a rampaging flood deep into Demi. 'Aaaaaaaaaagh - aaaaaaaaaaaagh - ohhhhhhhhhh FUCK... FUCK... FUCK!!!' He emptied utterly, balls clenched tight, as the final drops were squeezed free of his body, and all the while he clung in beautiful, despairing ecstasy to the yielding flesh of his young conquest. 'Ohhhh fucking hell...'

Paul's body crumpled forward on to the still quaking Demi like a deflating balloon. The madness which had seized him seemed to dissipate with his thundering climax; he became aware of the room once more - his marital bedroom - and of the nude young woman who was not his wife, into whom he had just fired an expansive supply of spunk. Whatever minor crimes she had committed, he had just used her shamelessly...in the place he was supposed to make love to his wife. He wondered vaguely how many tell-tale signs needed clearing up before Martha arrived home that evening and how he would ever square his actions with his conscience. But even his post-coital desolation could not wipe away how fucking fantastic it had been. And as he drew himself slowly out of Demi, his still semi-erect cock drew glutinous, white strands of cum in its wake from inside her slimed pussy, a testament to the fabulous act.

'You - you okay?' The nanny had slumped sweatily on to the covers and lay there panting. 'Demi?'

She finally nodded her head and answered him in an exhausted croak. 'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.'

'Anything I can get you? A drink of water?' He knew how inadequate it sounded, but his guilt at his own behaviour demanded that he make some kind of gesture.

Demi finally rolled on to her side and looked at him hazily, as if not entirely sure who he was. Then she appeared to focus once more. 'Yeah - yeah, a drink of water, please.' She drank it still nude, as though no longer abashed in front of him. Setting the empty glass aside, she stared at him warily. 'And you won't say anything to anyone about...about me coming back here?'

'No,' he told her earnestly, 'not a word. You can trust me on that.' It was a weight off his mind she seemed to be taking it so well. He put on his bathrobe and she dressed, without a sound passing between them. It seemed, nonetheless, that some mutual understanding had been achieved. Then just when he thought she was about to leave, she stooped down and picked the two banknotes from the carpet. She scooped up his wallet, he thought to return the notes, but instead she delved inside and produced the same amount again.

'I think I'll take your money after all,' she said with a slightly impudent air. 'I mean you're right... You're really not going to call the agency now, are you? Not when I can tell Mrs Rushton what you did with me on her bed.'

Paul felt surprise and a certain wry admiration at the girl's spirit. He knew he could not begrudge her the cash as he had done half an hour before. 'No - no Demi, I won't be calling anyone. You take the money and have a good time with your friends. Off you go then.'

Demi paused at the bedroom door just a second before leaving. There was a strange look on her face, a hot-faced look that could not be put down to simple disapproval. 'Mr Rushton, I never knew you were so bad.'

Paul sat on the bed staring at the shut door after she had departed, his heart rate finally slowing to normal. 'Neither did I, Demi,' he whispered to himself in quiet awe. 'Neither did I.'

EVIL INCARNATE

For Daniella all was darkness. The sleep mask he had slipped over her eyes encased her in velvet black. Every other sense was heightened. She heard the soft whirr of the fan and the rustle of his clothing, as perhaps he crossed his legs or shifted in his seat. She smelled the honeysuckle through the open window and the sharp tang of cologne whenever he drew close. She felt the prickling of cooling sweat on her exposed skin every time the fanned air brushed her. And she felt the tautness of the knotted bonds around her wrists and ankles. Hell, she almost felt his eyes on her. They were patrolling her body for sure, calm and alert, enjoying her, consuming her.

But chiefly she felt the soft, insistent buzz between her legs, the sensation over which he had complete control. He had plucked her panty crotch aside to insert the slim vibrator lovingly inside her, and those panties, the only garment he had left her wearing, held it firmly in place as it burred and fizzed. Currents of delicious, maddening sensation emanated from her gently moving loins to all quarters of her body, pricking her nipples, electrifying her spine so she writhed, her sweat-soaked back and bottom slipping against the smooth varnish of the chair. The buzzing increased, sensation building, her pussy clutching the vibrating pencil within, drenching her panties and thighs with a steady flow of responsive juice. Her head tilted against the back of the chair, her breathing ragged, as the tension in her body curved upwards into an exponential spike.

And then it stopped. The buzzing within her ceased utterly. Her body stiffened for a moment, before she crumpled into torpor, her satisfaction cruelly denied her. How many times was that, four, five, he had brought her to the precipitous brink of screaming, flailing orgasm, only to flick the switch on his remote and cut off the throbbing supply? Her head drooped and she hung there panting, hands working fruitlessly against the tough, nylon bindings - not to effect an escape, just to liberate her fingers so she could finish off manually what the vibrator had failed to achieve. Her pussy spasmed gently, aching and unrelieved. How could he know? How could he read her that minutely, bring her that close and no more?

Please, please... The word was at her lips, but she dared not speak it. After frustration times two she had pleaded openly and he had calmly threatened to gag her and leave the room indefinitely, vibrator resolutely non-active. 'I'll leave you there till you pee yourself, darling,' he had told her gently, stroking her hair, 'and I really don't want to have to mop up after you.' Bastard. Bastard.

The only hope was to be silent and patient. To sit there sweating on the hottest damn day of the summer, cunt-juice and perspiration pooling about her thighs in the concave seat. Serving as his visual entertainment, as he sat across from her in his own chair. The fan next to him, while she stewed in the heat. 'I've got a few calls to make and some stuff to check on the laptop,' he had told her, having deftly secured her hands to the back of the chair. 'It's tedious stuff, you'll be something nice to look at.'

And calls he had made, sitting across the living-room from her, doing bloody business. Dressed to impress in the heat of an August day for God's sake, like it mattered - since he'd obviously wanted her blindfolded from the off. Occasionally he'd rise to strut about her chair, so close that the silk of his shirt brushed against her, then he'd return to his seat. Chatting to business contacts all the while and sipping audibly from a glass - his sophisticated choice of drink seemed now a galling affectation - while his other hand played her body with the pressure of one finger. Toying, sexy bastard. Right now he was making her hate how much she wanted him.

Eric set his glass of pinot grigio next to his laptop and observed his captive. She was an exquisite sight with her petite form hanging forward limply in the chair, more so when her body was a taut bow-string of sexual tension. Which it was, of course, each time he chose to move the vibrator up to its higher settings. The bangs of her dark hair hung in dampened fronds about her forehead. Her jaw was a touch slack; he liked it better when her even, white teeth gnawed at her lower lip as her arousal grew, but he could wait for that. The fresh, natural glow of her pale skin was enhanced by the moisture that had beaded at her every pore. There she sat, his pretty little puppet, whose strings he could pull by a single switch-flick, hoisting her up into a straining full-body rictus of erotic longing. How choice to play with her, to draw her closer, ever closer to her fulfilment and then each time to thwart her. Sweet baby. Sweet, hot little rich girl. Making her body yearn, forcing her to bite down her desire every time she went to plead for release. Making her need him, making her crave his touch. Pretty, helpless Daniella.

A surge of anger fuelled his quiet lust and he picked up the remote, flicked it idly, watched as she jolted back into life. A stifled moan escaped her throat, before her teeth bit into that plump lower lip. Her smooth drumlin breasts thrust outwards, large, dark-pink nipples poking provocatively into space. And her hips began to shunt in little rotations on her seat, striving to supplement the work of her teasing, battery-powered tormentor, to push her to that yearned-for conclusion. Eric's enlarging cock slid pleasingly against the silk of his boxers, as he enjoyed the show.

His Bluetooth buzzed in his ear - the expected return call, he thought - and he answered without breaking his gaze. But it wasn't who he'd been hoping for. 'Quentin - glad you called. Been wondering if you'd finished proofing the Gaunt novel. Deadline's tomorrow, you hadn't forgotten... Yes, well if you can email confirmation to me by the end of the day that would be good.'

Daniella emitted a yelp, loud enough to be heard down a phone-line, as Eric upped the setting. 'Ah, you've caught me enjoying some adult entertainment,' he explained to his business associate. 'Classy, but highly pornographic. I'm sure you'd like it.' He smiled, as Daniella's sweat-slick young ass continued to slither about the polished surface of the chair. 'Very stimulating. What? No, I'm not. I'm using my laptop and it needs both hands. Merely a background distraction. How're things going with you?' He small-talked a while, spinning the remote idly in his fingers as he chatted.

'Okay, I'll look out for that proofed copy,' he said eventually. 'What's that? Oh trust me, I'm enjoying. Later.'

The call terminated and Eric focused all his attention on bringing his toy to the verge of an ass-juddering crescendo, before cruelly pulling her back. 'Ah, Daniella,' he said softly, as she lolled defeated in her chair, 'my afternoon delight.' How I'm going to make you pay, he added internally, and as he set down the control and picked up the glass, as he rose from his seat and strolled towards her, it almost felt to him that the crime were hers. Spoilt, pampered daddy's girl, however smart, what a pleasure to render her his plaything. Trussed there, so forlorn, so helplessly aroused. He almost took pity on her.

Bastard, stop doing this to me. And don't make your - your calls like I'm not bloody here! Daniella felt exhausted, wrung out by the successive, huge waves of sensation Eric had caused to build then ebb within her. None allowed to break, as though he were a King Canute, more worthy of the flattery. She heard his casual tread on the carpet approaching her, then her head swam with his male aroma - perspiration and aftershave together with the wine on his breath. 'Patience, sweetheart,' he said in a near-whisper. 'Think how much sweeter it'll be when it actually happens.' She felt his perfectly manicured nails drawn backwards across her cheek, before he cupped his palm and cradled her jaw.

Daniella bridled under his touch. The whole hyper-sensitive landscape of her body goose-bumped and tremored. She leant her face into his hand, rubbed against him like an attention-craving cat, her nipples hardening just that little bit more. He was acting like he owned her and she could not help but respond, now, as though it were true. Such a far cry from the man she had met two years prior in the family home that day, respectful, polite, gently humorous - inquiring about her imminent departure for university. The same man she had bumped into on the high street on her summer recess some two weeks before, who had so casually suggested they go for coffee, then drawn her out over the lattes on her chosen field of study.

Now he was up close, stroking her hair, gently but with a disconcertingly propriatorial air. He moved his finger to her lips, strummed them tenderly apart and inserted not one or two but three fingers into her mouth. She sucked on the tips, eager to please him, hoping he would reciprocate by somehow getting her off. Fingers withdrew and she heard it, the slow, deliberate rasp of a descending zipper in front of her face, followed by the rustle of linen, and then it was not his fingertips at her lips.

'Go on, open up.' One strong hand rested on the back of her head, drawing her forward. Her lips parted once more and she took the bulged, velvet cock-head into her mouth. He kept pressing, guiding, compelling her down on to its thick stalk, sliding their two forms together, filling her startled throat till she was orally impaled on him, face nestling into the rich, Italian fabric of his clothes. She choked on his thickness as he held her there, the immaculately clipped nails of his other hand delicately tracing her cheekbone. 'Good girl, good girl, that's it,' he breathed, 'stay there, just a little more...' Then he drew her smoothly all the way off him, exiting her mouth with a small, succulent pop, allowing her to gulp in air. 'Very good, baby,' he commended softly. 'Take a moment, then we'll try again.'

As she sat panting, she marvelled in some part of her confused mind at the contrast between those recent dates and - this. How he had taken her out for drinks, then dinner and theatre, allowed her to collude in her own seduction, plied her with his physical attentions gradually and respectfully. She had revelled in the sly sexual interplay, the way he drew out her confidence, opened her up to him physically and psychologically. So that on the evening of their third official date, back here in his apartment, her clothes had seemed to drop from her at his touch.

He had cupped and caressed her, lavished his tongue and his lips and his sensual fingers on her body, bringing her to climax three times before he even introduced his cock into the scenario. Then he had gathered her to him and entered her, riding the ecstatic movement of her body strongly and slowly, building to a hard, urgent but still strangely tender crescendo, where they both exploded together. They had lain together spent and entwined in the sweet aftermath. Over two more dates he had taken gentle charge of her body - undressed, guided and positioned her, gripped her with iron-clad restraint and made strong, intense, slow-fucking love to her - drawing out her hot, fresh juice and her trust.

So now to this afternoon's developments - just where the fuck had they come from? Although maybe - maybe - yes, hadn't she just occasionally sensed something else lurking there in their earlier encounters? Something indefinably dark lying beneath his restraint, when his grip tightened just a little, when his glittering eyes seemed to betray more than arousal and affection. And hadn't her stomach buzzed at the thought of discovering what that something was?

He drew himself close now and fitted her fully down on to him once more, pulling her tight, his thick engorgement squelching into the recesses of her throat. 'Ye-s-s-s, that's it, that's what we want, good girl.' When he dragged her spluttering and gulping off him this time, he flipped the sleep-mask deftly from her eyes, providing an accompanying visual. From the civilised trappings of his Borrelli garments sprouted that great, thick trunk, essential and primeval and still glistening with her relish. 'See what that talented little throat just swallowed?' he said approvingly. 'Now let's do it again.' And while some feisty part of her wanted to apply her teeth just enough to make him wary, she submitted and let him slot her all the way back down on to him.

Eric tilted Daniella's head slightly, so he had a good view of his shaft, as it probed past her lips all the way to the back of her throat. She was tight around him, her convulsing vocal tract squeezing his bulging head, firing chemical messages of sheer fucking joy all round his body. 'Look at me,' he told her. 'Look at me, baby.' She turned her dark-hazel eyes on him, her stuffed face full of panic, rage and excitement. He brushed fronds of hair back behind her ear and gazed on her in a type of wonder. 'Keep it there, darling, keep it there, that's my good girl...'

It was that serendipitous meeting three weeks back, which had led to the current agreeable positioning of his cock. There she'd been, window shopping on the high street in a pale-blue halter top and tomato-red shorter-than-shorts, the latter of which looked meticulously tailored to showcase her exquisite bubble-ass. She'd clutched an ostentatious Sara Berman bag and had been almost unrecognisable under massive, insect-eye sunglasses. But he'd been sufficiently smitten by this sexy little vision to keep looking and make the connection with two summers ago. Disappointment had still burned within him, the fatal email having arrived only the previous day, and on spotting her, his decision had been instantaneous.

'Daniella?' A swing-about to face him, ponytail bouncing, swift removal of sunglasses followed by a radiant smile of recognition. 'From a couple of summers back... We met at your dad's, right?'

'I remember! You're...'

'Eric. It's okay...' - on seeing her apologetic frown - '...I'm sure you can be a good Psychology student and not remember names.'

'I'm damn good with names,' she'd protested, laughing. 'And a damn good Psychologist. I was going to say Errol...'

'Errol? Because I remind you of Errol Flynn?'

More laughter. 'Don't flatter yourself, mister! You just look like a generic Errol, is all. Not a specific one. You shouldn't go fishing for compliments from girls you hardly know. That's a bit reckless.'

'I feel crushed. And a little bit psychoanalysed. The course is going well, then?'

Segue into afternoon coffee, drinks a few nights later, followed by a night out on the town. Carry her away with chat and laughter and romance and goodnight kisses full of restrained passion and a mere hint of roguish intent. Be polite, respectful, keep just the right side of cocky. Take on Miss Psychologist at her own game. Lingering eye-contact across the restaurant table, even in the silences. Fingers weaving together while awaiting the cheque. Invite her back almost as a throwaway and once she's on your sofa, draw out her confidences while gently flirting. Play idly with her hair and share laughter up close. Kiss her, soft, slow and searching. Charm her free of clothing, then tongue her free of inhibition. Penetrate her deep till her body quakes and her eyes roll back in her head. Warm her up so the debauching-proper can begin.

None of which had been a chore. She had a sweet face and body and a sophistication that belied her youth; her wit, sass and wide-ranging knowledge meant she sparred easily with him, despite his fifteen years' seniority over her. She had challenged him, made him laugh, called him on the odd stray moment of careless male bullshit, the precocious little madam. And yet despite her chosen field of study, she had never seen through to his true motives, never realised that he was reeling her in, landing her...right here.

He pulled her face off his cock again, held her for one moment of recuperation, then briskly planted her all the gorge-stretching way back, her nose crushed into his silk shirt. Nice. She had acquiesced so easily that afternoon, as he unbuttoned her clothes and eased them from her body, bathing her face, neck and breasts in soft kisses. 'God, sweetheart, the things I want you to feel,' he had breathed into her ear. 'Things you've never felt before. Do you have any idea how sexy you are?' She had melted into him like ice-cream on that hot summer's day. 'Let me try something with you, darling.' His next gambit. Spoken as if on a sudden erotic impulse. 'Something I think you'll enjoy. I want you to trust me, okay?'

She had nodded with mute excitement, the naïve little darling, and offered herself up to his control. Whatever she had expected when he guided her into the chair, however, it had not been this - his every hard, pulsing inch jammed to the very balls past her lips. A bit different from the silver spoon you were born with, right my girl? 'That's right, sweetheart, swallow me, swallow it all.' And this time he cupped his sac and set about squeezing his inflated bollocks into her mouth as well, just for kicks.

Daniella felt herself wrenched off him once more and angrily spat herself free of viscous saliva, most of which ended up clinging to or dangling from the end of the abusing cock. Her panting mouth formed an insult, but he stopped it with a finger to her lips. 'Not a word, or you don't get yours,' he warned softly. 'Now do it again, without my help.' She stared at him askance. 'Go on. You want to get off, then deep-throat me. All by yourself.'

God, on arriving at his apartment that afternoon, she had found herself ready to go on whatever sexual adventure he suggested. Guided panty-clad into the chair he had fetched from the dining-table, she had awaited developments with a sudden, expectant shortness of breath. On seeing him return from the utility room with all that thick cord she had flinched inwardly, but he had dropped to one knee, brushed the back of his hand across her cheek and spoken so earnestly, with just a dash of that irresistibly sly humour: 'I want to tease you before I satisfy you, sweetness. But we don't have to use these, not if you don't want to. It's just I don't think patience is one of your virtues...' And he had pressed his lips like a whisper to hers.

Not a word of protest had she spoken, as he bound her nearly-nude body to the chair, applied the sleep mask, slotted the vibrator into her wet and ready channel. And he had done it all with such seeming affection - so he could start pressing his selfish attentions on her like this. Bastard. Bloody fucking bastard! But she met his deep-throat challenge nonetheless. Summoning her courage, she lunged on to his cock, gobbling up as many inches as she could, before she gagged and could push no further. She withdrew, dribbling spit, hoping she had done enough.

'That's good, now try again.'

Damn him! She attacked him this time like she was starved, leaning in hard, his head raking the hard roof of her mouth en route to the back of her throat, and she glared at him defiantly all the while. This what you're looking for? This make you fucking happy? She could hear the wet suction as she took him in and was sure he was loving sound along with sensation. 'One more time, baby,' he said as she came off him, in a voice hoarse but calm. Cursing him inwardly she went way, way down, straining against her bonds, sucking him in till she choked hard, holding it there till tears ran down her cheeks and she could bear no more. As she pulled away, her mouth spilled profusely over her neck, her breasts and him.

'Good girl,' he smiled, and along with the mockery in his eyes she saw an infuriating, patronising benevolence that made her want to scream. But not so much she would blow her chances of the orgasm he had so long denied her. He bent down, erection still thrusting lewdly out of his flies, and kissed her lips softly. 'Poor sweet Daniella, so longsuffering, so compliant.' She stared at him - those beautifully carved, slightly angular features, the sun-streaked fair hair, the subtly powerful Italian-wrapped frame - and didn't know whether she wanted to slap or fuck the shit out of him. Then he knelt, prised himself between her parted thighs, and she knew. Knew all the more as he slid his palms upwards under the thin band of her panties and curled his fingers to peel the sodden, black-lace garment away from her sweat-moistened ass and the pussy she had so painstakingly waxed bare the previous night for his appreciation. Knew and ached and bit down on her lip, as he reached into the wet little nook between her shivering thighs with thumb and middle finger, pincering out the slim device he had so tenderly placed there. Now, please please now. She dared not articulate her inward begging, lest he desist another time.

Eric clicked the vibrator into motion and skimmed it teasingly over the surface of Daniella's plumpish upper thighs, keeping it ever just shy of her parted labia. He monitored each response of her taut body and near-agonised face, loving the sweet pain of denial that racked her. He withdrew the thrumming silver pencil and raised it to the pale mounds of her breasts, circled each dark nipple till it thrust out bullet-like on her straining, heaving chest. He traced a line down her sternum, over her prettily fleshy stomach, down between her legs, so its whirring tip barely touched her hot, pumped little clitoris. She gave a desperate high-pitched moan and tried to push herself on to it, but he held it back so it skimmed her and no more. Then he drew it down and up her slick, puffed lips, circled her clit, pushing a little harder then easing off, playing her cruelly, as her body yearned for release.

Daniella loved and despised what he was doing to her body. She was beyond reading him, trying to work out what was driving the man she thought she'd been getting to know. All she could feel was the tease of that orgasm, ever-impending and just beyond her reach. He was taunting her as he toyed: 'So close, Daniella, and you want it so, so bad, don't you, sweetheart?' He unbuttoned his shirt and tore it off on a sudden impulse, the vibrator left humming busily on the chair between her thighs. Then he pressed himself close to her, his hard, lean pectoral muscles packed against her breasts, his hot breath on her face. He kissed her hard. She could taste pinot-flavoured lust on her tongue as he crushed his mouth to hers, while one hand picked up the vibrator and played its tip against her pussy once more. He broke the kiss slightly, his lips still brushing hers as he spoke. 'Tell me what you want, baby, it's okay, you can say it.'

'Make me come. Please.' She could hear her voice, fevered and way beyond pride. 'Eric please, I can't stand it...'

'How, like this?' He dropped back down to the V between her legs and gave her clit a few deft licks, sending further shockwaves across the surface of her body. 'Or this?' And he sank the vibrator an inch into her wet hole, making her seize with pent-up tension.

'Any way,' she said despairingly, 'just do me, Eric, please, please get me off!'

'Do you beg me?'

'Yes, yes I fucking beg you, is that what you want? Please!'

He held the vibrator inside her still inside her, fixing her with a gaze she couldn't begin to fathom. Then he whisked it out of her and for a moment held it in front of her tauntingly. He stood up, dropped it on to the wood-panelled floor and stamped on it repeatedly and hard. Her disbelieving ears could hear it being ground into splintering fragments. Eric just stood there as if awaiting a reaction, an infuriating grin plastered all over his handsome face, his great cock still thrusting arrogantly, ridiculously out of his trousers.

Her head lolled back against the chair, her body sizzling with frustration, her mind whirling and tilting with defeated lust, confusion and just a hint of fear. 'You - You... What are you fucking doing?' Then his smile vanished as he seemed to change his mind, or else make a swift move in whatever weird game he was playing. He swooped down to his knees, gripped her hard by the small of her back and with the other hand thrust what must have been three fingers into her soaking, pulsing cunt.

She squealed at the unexpected, rude invasion, at being suddenly stretched so wide, but she welcomed it too - Christ, did her whole body and soul embrace it, the unambiguous display of male lust, the sense of being shamefully, nastily fucked by his vigorously attacking fingers. His smooth palm mashed against her clit as he squelched inside her hot tunnel, grunting intently as he did her.

His phone buzzed in his ear. 'Hush, or I stop,' he told her gravely. 'I need to take this call.' And with one hand still briskly working her, he fucking did!

'Damien, yes, I was just talking about your book.' His tone managed to be casual, even with three fingers stuck right up her. Not content, he lifted his wine glass from where he had set it on the nearby cadenza and sipped, before continuing the conversation. She gasped in both outrage and sublimated excitement, as the bastard multi-tasked. 'It should be proofed by the end of the day,' he was amiably chatting, 'but I'll let you know. Yes, it's all going swimmingly. I'm expecting we'll have quite a hit on our hands.' Piece of shit! How dare he? Daniella was disgusted she did not dry up at being used so shabbily. But she was oozing freely and losing her senses nonetheless, and hardly heard the rest of the call. 'Good to talk, Damien. Better go, I'm in the middle of something.'

After that he was back, granting her full attention at last. 'Okay lady, you want to come, then let's hear you.' She wanted it badly, and resented the fuck out of him for it. He was right there, cupping her firmly, fingers plunging three-knuckles-deep inside her wet delta, face now set in a lustful grimace inches from hers, showing her a whole lot of horny disrespect. 'You going to come? You going to come for me, sweetheart? You going to squirt all over my fucking hand?'

Oh God, was she. That long, tortuous build-up, held writhing all those times on the brink, it took mere seconds of his hard, digital abuse and she popped like an over-pumped party balloon. The sensation exploded outwards from her loins, ravishing her whole body like a flash-fire, burning her up in a fierce ecstasy of release. She was shuddering and squealing on his deep-thrust fingers like a stuck animal, spilling her juice all over him. Soon she would realise to what degree she had exposed herself before this man, this game-playing stranger who she apparently hadn't known at all. She would know that he had drawn something out of her witnessed by no other. That would be in several seconds' time, when she had stopped coming like she were insane.

Daniella was a terrific sight, Eric thought, as she thrashed on him, as he braced her back once more and frigged that violently spasming cunt. Her smooth, exercise-toned body, with its last hints of puppy-fat, was sweat-drenched and tightly defined by muscle-clenching orgasm. Mascara had traced its way down from her eyes, besmirching that pretty, pert face. Her dark hair was sticking to her cheeks and neck, as her petite form danced out of control. And her sweet nectar had gushed extravagantly all over his hand and wrist. He let her quaking subside, before he eased his fingers from the sucking resistance of her love-hole, regardless of her yelps and moans, and smeared her face gently but liberally with the juice-soaked palm of his hand. Then he worked his recently-busy fingers into her mouth - 'Go on, lick these clean' - and made her taste her own essence. Her face, when he stroked it after, was a pleasing picture - a turmoil of bemusement, relief and resentment.

'Happy now?' She stared back at him, mouth slightly agape and panting, as though trying to fathom who this man actually was and why he was treating her so capriciously. 'Good,' he said, aware that she had not actually answered his question. 'Because now you're going to make me very happy.' As he stripped off the remainder of his clothes, got naked before her, he knew it was more than his quietly contained lust he was about to assuage. Climbing on to the chair so he could rub his stiff dick and heavy balls freely about her wet face, he felt chills running through him at what he was about to offload along with a ball-sac's worth of cum. She was a great lay, those early dates had already proven that, but today was about much more than sex. This was going to be one deeply satisfying, cathartic fuck. He set about untying her.

Daniella felt shattered by orgasm. Her pussy was a zone of heightened, near-unbearable sensitivity that pulsed every time he touched her in releasing the bonds around her feet, her hands. He worked nimbly, with such confidence - how practised was he? - as he unfastened each carefully-tied limb. His excited extension brushed various part of her, as he went intently, masterfully, about his task. Her knees nearly buckled as he drew her up from the chair, turned her about and guided her back on to it in a kneeling position. She was no one's pushover, but here she was, being put and placed by this driven, controlling man. And pissed off though she was, she couldn't find it in herself to protest. Undeniably it was too damned exciting.

She knew, as he made her grip the chair-back and lashed her wrists tightly to the slats once more, that he wasn't about to make love to her. That had been last time. Today there was a whole new agenda in place, and as he began to run his hands firmly over the damp slopes of her body, she couldn't for the life of her work out what it was. Something had changed or surfaced from where it had been lurking within this man.

Was he acting spontaneously that day from some emotion that had suddenly combusted within him? No, no, no - this was planned, she was sure. He had lured her to this point with compliments and tenderness; emotional and physical tenderness, the latter of which he was applying now, palming her suspended breasts in slow circles, then following the concave of her waist with one hand to the swell of her hip, his cock hovering almost intangibly above her rear. A shudderingly tender prelude to something very far from tender.

Was this his regular game? Were all the girls taken the seductive route to this scary, unpredictable place? She imagined not, as he lowered himself behind her, mapping the curves of her thighs and lower legs as he descended. This was personal to her, though she could not fathom why. She could fathom nothing right now, she could not even think coherently with what his tongue did to her next.

Eric parted the smooth, milky globes of Daniella's ass cheeks almost reverently, exposing the gorgeous fruit of her sex. Her swollen lips and the thickened swathes that lay beneath still glistened with her juice and he sampled her delicately with his tongue, feeling her bottom twitch beneath his firmly grasping hands. Then his mouth enjoyed her fully; he pulled her ass tight into his face, thrust his tongue deep and ate her out voraciously, her scent sharp in his nostrils. She struggled and yelped, still over-sensitive from her orgasm, so he licked her all the more vigorously, working over her fleshy folds and soft, interior tunnel while she moaned. He trailed his tongue upwards out of her pussy, till it found the tight star of her anus, and there he burrowed a little, just enough to make her cry out in surprise.

He rose, his cock lined up behind her, thick and strong, ready to punch into either, it occurred to him, of her two holes. But not before he had played a little more. Not before he had smoothed his hands over those perfect porcelain bum cheeks like a sculptor admiring his own work, not before he had whacked them in a double hand-clap, making her scream and jolt the chair.

'Poor baby, not expecting that?' And he whacked her smartly in identical fashion. 'Well you'll be on guard for it from now on.' Whack! She gave an impassioned yell, and well might she, he thought, with those scarlet-on-milky-white palm-prints. 'Sorry darling, but Jesus - an ass like that was just created to be spanked. You're a walking tease and you can't help it! One more for luck...'

'Owwwwww!' This one erased the scowl from her face and before it could return, he had bent down and kissed both cheeks like a benediction. 'No more,' he promised, rising. 'It's time.'

He paused a moment to caress her hips, to smooth his palm down the small of her back to the divide of her reddened bottom. She turned her head to look at him, her face full of anxious expectation, her slim waist creasing delectably on one side as her body shifted. And in his quietly angry lust it occurred to him that maybe she was not actually deserving of this. That there was much more to this girl than the pampered brat he had assumed her to be. After all, she was only guilty by association, wasn't she? Maybe she deserved the tenderness and respect of the first few dates...

The Bluetooth buzzed in his ear with freak timing that amazed him. He answered, still poised in fuck-mode, and indeed it was the call he had been waiting for all afternoon. 'Well now, I was wondering when you'd get back to me.' He kept a level tone as the voice sounded in his ear, of a man he had until recently considered a friend. 'Yes, you fully appraised me of your decision, I read the email several times. I just wanted to know your reasons. We had a clear verbal agreement, so I guess I'm asking what exactly changed your mind?'

He listened to the explanation, the head of his cock nestling against Daniella's pussy lips throughout, his rod still fully primed. 'No, no that's perfectly clear. What? Yes, I figured the decision was final. And that being the case, I've got a final decision of my own. Which will be with you by Monday morning. Now if you don't mind, I've got something that needs doing rather urgently. Goodbye.'

Eric was quietly seething as he ended the call. Jonathan Blanchford had employed him because he was an independent thinker, capable of making creative decisions based on his own intuition. And those, it seemed, were the very reasons the man was reneging on his promise to give him a fifty-fifty share in the business. Eric had helped build up the Blanchford name from nothing, it was largely due to his sweat that it had become one of the most successful independent publishers in the UK. Only now because he didn't keep his boss appraised quite as closely as the control freak obviously desired, because he was apparently no longer trusted to make the decisions for which he had been employed, he had been shut out.

Fair enough, Blanchford, if that's how you want it. You fuck me, then you'll never guess who I fuck. Properly this time. Consider this my resignation. His grip tightened on Daniella Blanchford's rump and he made a few exploratory ventures into the shallows of her pussy; she was positively gurgling with moisture around his probing shaft. He drew himself out to just below the head, then with a single angry thrust he hilted her, Jonathan Blanchford's precious daughter.

Daniella's head had been spinning with how much she actually knew about Eric and why he might possibly be taking business calls prior to sticking his cock inside her. Light had only begun to dawn when he slammed into her, his hard loins whacking against her buttocks as he stretched her cunt wide, the head of his dick driving all the way to her cervix. Shit! Her bound hands clamped themselves to the chair top and she yelled aloud, as he slid in reverse and rammed her full of cock once more.

Fierce, long, individual fuck-strokes ensued, Eric holding himself there at the end of each searching thrust, grinding into her as if to emphasise a point, fingers impressing themselves on her tenderised ass flesh. Out again and hard in, filling her whole, sending reverberations throughout her flesh, each impact making her feel that possession had been taken of her body. More of the same, only building, retaining the harshness of the screw while speeding up. Repeated slap slap slap of him on her, as he drove deep. Romantic fuck? That was a whole other date. This afternoon was a full-on, borderline-brutal cunt-hammering. Daniella had never been done like this.

She gazed behind her in panic and awe, to see her loving beau of recent nights transformed into a rutting savage. He glared back, gripped her by a shoulder and hauled on her as he speared her depths. 'You like it like this, baby? This do it for you? Yeah? I fucking hope so, 'cos I've got a whole fun weekend all planned out.' His hand transferred from shoulder to the locks of dark hair which draped her back and he took hold, yanking her head around and back, pulling hard on her hair and shafting her pussy all the time. God, this bastard owned her cunt and she hated that she liked it.

He was whacking her flank now - his promise be damned - like she was a fucking racehorse. Jesus, he was taking that simile even further, letting go her tresses and clamping his hands to either side of her wailing mouth, slotting in his fingers like a bit. He pulled hard and she could feel her mouth stretched tight, as he continued to ride her like a possessed jockey. God, please, let her survive to the finish line. She wondered very hazily just how much a pussy could be expected to take. Daniella felt abused, disrespected and infuriatingly turned on. She had no way of accessing her clit and bastard Eric wasn't caring to stimulate it on her behalf, but she thought she might come anyway, by sheer virtue of this asshole's brutalising cock.

Eric's revenge was fevered and beautiful. Tight, slippery wetness all over his pumping shaft, repeated fierce impact, her soft flesh slapping loudly on the gym-worked hardness of his, as he hauled on her pretty face. Fucking and controlling lithe, gorgeous Daniella, Jonathan's only daughter and heir to the Blanchford family fortune. A fortune Eric had helped amass. Well you back-tracking bastard, now I own your darling girl's sweet, round ass. I'm giving her twat the hardest pounding of her young life and when I'm done...yes, her ass will be next. I'll make her come enough times that she'll plead for me to bust my way past her tight little anal entrance. God, there's no end of kinky shit she's going to do before she leaves this house, there's no hole that's not going to be utterly abused and I'll make sure her hot cunt gushes through it all. Talking of which...

He released his grip on her face, so he could clap one hand to her hip and reach around with the other to frig her clit. Her body was already tight with a further build-up of tension and it took little from his rotating fingers to send her careering towards a second climactic explosion, one he hoped would coincide with his own. He listened to the escalating cacophony which emitted from her, herald of her ecstasy, and pounded his way intently, furiously, teeth gritted and body sweating, to his personal sexual heaven. She was already bleating her helpless joy, as he peaked and shot his wad deep inside her. His orgasm was protracted and glorious, the physical sensation of expelling his hot seed within the tightly enclosed cuntal recesses of this pretty young woman combining with the sense of having avenged himself on a bitter enemy.

Daniella's loins were ablaze again, her vagina clutching Eric's deep-thrust pole, bathing it in her secretions even as she felt its involuntary pump-action firing semen into her innermost secret place. The violent quaking of her body gradually eased and moments later Eric's frantic rear-action wound down also, though his cock remained swollen inside her, her muscles clamped around it. She rested her head on her secured hands and breathed deeply. His hands' firm grip on her hip and pubic mound eased and became tender like before. She felt his touch, soft on her back. When he began to ease his still thick length free of her, she started with the sheer sensitivity, so he paused, let her relax. Then he completed the gradual sliding retraction, detaching their sweat-glued bodies. Eric gazed at the smooth, slick form of the girl he had just fucked. Fucked recklessly. His mind felt unfogged of lust and anger by the expelation womb-deep inside her. What he had done became uncomfortably clear. He had visited her father's crimes upon her. Pampered little Daniella? Not so much, he thought. She raised her head and stared around at him, her expression discomfitingly knowing. He recalled looking at her across a restaurant table mere days before, enjoying her wit and her irreverence and the wisdom that went beyond her years. Eric found himself acknowledging the thought he had dismissed during his two-week seduction: he actually liked this girl. Which made him feel...ambiguous about the way he had just treated her.

Daniella was surprised at the rather subdued Eric who untied her, raised her gently from the chair and massaged her wrists. They stood facing each other, sweating in the naked aftermath of hard sex. 'You okay?' he asked softly, something almost hesitant in his voice. What, was he feeling guilty?

'Sore,' she replied breathlessly, but she fully met his stare with a disgruntled one of her own. 'You took me a little by surprise. But I suppose that was the point, right?'

'Can I get you something to drink?' Wow, her ravisher had turned solicitous. How bloody endearing.

'A glass of water would be nice.' She looked on sourly as he took his naked self to the kitchen, returning moments later with the requested glassful. 'Ice cubes,' she noted, before drinking. 'Well aren't you Mr Thoughtful?'

'Look, go get showered,' he said, once she'd set the glass aside and he kissed her lightly on the cheek. 'Then maybe you'd better be on your way. I've...got some more work to attend to. Don't want to bore you.'

She bristled at his words, despite the conciliatory tone with which he had attempted to deliver them. Patronizing shit. 'What, and you don't want me tied up to provide some visual entertainment while you're doing it? You're scrapping that 'fun weekend' you'd got lined up?' She hoped after she'd said it that no hint of disappointment had leaked into her irony.

There was a glimmer in his face which said the 'fun weekend' might still appeal, but some other emotion appeared to have taken over. 'Maybe another time. Go shower.'

Daniella's blood was quietly simmering. She wanted to slap Eric's calm expression off his stupid, handsome face. Infuriating, game-playing, vacillating, two-faced, sexy bastard. 'So - what, you fuck me so I can hardly stand and then you just pack me off, is that it? And then you'll 'call me', right?'

'Yes...' She was sure he looked shame-faced, as he reached out and touched her arm. 'Yes, I will call. We can go out and do something nice next week, if you'd like.'

'Sure,' she said, far from convinced. She smiled at him wryly. 'Daddy must have really pissed you off.' The surprised look on his face confirmed what she'd suspected. 'Well I know you work for him, so who else could that have been? Fucked you over, did he? But I'm sure you feel all better about it now. So you can take that bloody ridiculous thing out of your ear.' She went and picked up her various discarded garments, including the damp panties. Each time she made sure he got a good shot of the puffed lips he had recently split with his cock. Then she padded off to the bathroom, adding an extra sway to her rump, leaving her debaucher with his thoughts.

Eric stared after Daniella and her sweet, heart-shaped ass and nearly laughed. Yes, there was way more to this young woman than he had allowed himself to believe. It wasn't so easy, it turned out, to dismiss her and use her, to fuck her and dump her. He had a vaguely uncomfortable sense that it was she who was walking out on him. It suddenly mattered a little that she thought him a total shit. Which he unarguably was. He removed the Bluetooth, poured himself another glass of white and slowly sipped it down, listening to the sound of high-powered spray coming from the bathroom. He decided to shower after Daniella was gone and went to his bedroom so he could wrap himself up in his robe.

Daniella was there in the living-room when he returned, back in the simple yellow top, low-slung designer jeans and stiletto sandals in which she had arrived. She picked up her shoulder bag, flashed him a brief, inscrutable glance and headed for the door. He met her there and went to open it, struggling for the right thing, any remotely right thing to say. He suspected there wasn't one. 'Look, Daniella...'

She turned to him. 'It's okay, Eric, I get it. It doesn't take two years' of studying Psychology to work it out. Daddy screwed you and you couldn't get back at him, so you thought you'd seduce and defile his little rich bitch daughter, right? Bit of a cliché, but you did it with style, I'll give you that.' He moved to protest and she raised an sceptical eyebrow. 'Am I wrong?'

'Well, it's...I...' He gave up with a shrug. 'No.'

Daniella weighed up the rather sheepish-looking, self-styled shitheel in front of her. Pissed off as she still was, his penitence had mollified her enough for the memory of the sex to come rolling back. She considered for a moment, then confided. 'There's something I didn't tell you on our dates. You see I was totally the spoilt girl all through school and I won't deny I played up to it sometimes. And then halfway through the first year of my Degree Course, Daddy decided it was time to 'teach me the value of money'. No warning. I came home Christmas and he announced he was cutting me off - not ease off on the allowance, not help me out if things got really desperate. Nothing. Zip. Everything you've seen me wear is nearly two years old. I got on with it and worked every shitty job I could find to get by, but I still nearly had to drop out. It's a wonder I made it through my exams both years.' She paused, aware of her accelerated heart rate, shocked by her own daring. 'So I suppose what I'm trying to say is, I've been pretty pissed off with Daddy myself.'

Eric was looking at her inquiringly, obviously wondering where she was going with this. Daniella reached up, took his hand and prised his fingers off the door latch. Her heart gave a sudden booming thump and she had to control a tremor in her voice, such were the implications of what she was about to do. She had experienced the power of Eric's lust, but felt that the breadth of his imagination had not yet been brought to bear. 'So are you busy the rest of the weekend or aren't you?'

Eric looked down at his petite, shapely house guest in an advanced state of curiosity. 'I guess I'm all freed up.'

Daniella drew up close to him and took both his hands, meeting his gaze squarely. There was a tremble in her lower lip that wasn't entirely affected. 'Then finish what you started,' she said. 'Fucking defile me.'

The weekend stretched out before them, a broad vista of wild possibility. Eric Lehane and Daniella Blanchford looked deep into each other's eyes and smiled. Daniella's pulse raced. Her discomfort was real, but it was countered by a sense of wild excitement. She could have freed herself by a single sharp tug of her wrists but she did not want to. Not for an instant. Never in her life had she felt like this.

She was irked that he had left her so damn long, but then it should hardly have surprised her now she had submitted to his games. So she remained seated on his kitchen chair, naked and waiting. Her ankles had been secured with thin nylon rope to the outside of either front chair-leg, heels propped up in her stiletto sandals, so that her thighs were splayed wide. A sleek state-of-the-art vibrator had been plunged deep into her pussy, so that the protrusion at the base might have nudged her clitoris, had the device not been twisted an inconvenient one-eighty degrees inside her.

She could have adjusted it, switched it on and set it growling within and against her, rather than just fitted there tight and inert. But that would have meant ripping the crepe-paper bonds with which he had tied her wrists behind the chair-back. Her restraints he had improvised from the wrappings of a recently-purchased silk shirt; 'Tear yourself free if you want,' he had whispered in her ear having completed the delicate knotting, 'but if you do I'll truss you up properly and deprive you for the rest of the day. Either that or the deal's off.' So she was behaving herself, staying in place, shunting back and forth as much as she could to create friction between her cuntal walls and the smooth surface of the sex toy. All this while the images played out before her on screen.

He had picked a DVD from his modest but carefully put-together treasury of hardcore pornography, set aside as it was from the Scorsese, the Almodovar and the Kirosawa. Placing the chair in front of his fifty-inch flat-screen in the nexus of the surround-sound, he had maximized her audio-visual experience of the sweating, groaning, foul-mouthed fuck-action. 'Pay special attention to the third scene,' he had advised her prior to his departure. 'Because everything he does to her, I'm going to do to you.' How her toes had curled at the velvet intensity of his promise. How her nipples had hardened and her cunt turned moist.

The sometimes limited appeal of porno visuals was hugely enhanced by her current situation. She watched, enthralled, as a parade of porn slutlets drizzled themselves liberally with oily lubricant, massaging it lovingly into their curves, while the hired studs looked on in grinning anticipation, stroking those big erections. The same girls were then worked over vigorously by their hung-and-hoisted admirers, as Daniella gazed, shifting vainly to increase the sense of traction inside her own filled pussy. Not for the first time that weekend she was writhing frustratedly in an effort to bring herself to climax.

Then the other sensation began to compete. There had been an excited knowingness in Eric's eyes at odds with his calm demeanour as he had encouraged her to drink. Two litres of water flavoured with lime cordial she had downed, while tied there to the chair, her not-quite-captor encouraging her softly in between her long gulps. Now the liquid was draining south, filling her up and thwarting the desire which had been mounting, as she clenched her groin muscles to stem the flow. 'You let it out and the weekend's cancelled,' he had warned her mildly. The weekend's cancelled... She found herself unwilling to countenance that prospect, not yet at any rate, so she endured her swollen bladder, resisted the urge to relieve herself all over the bastard's living-room rug.

She sat and squirmed and endured, watched as the DVD's third scene kicked in. Physical discomfort could not squeeze out the thrill and the shame as this particular porn scenario unfolded before her. The slender nymphette with the ringletted hair oiling her body to a slippery sheen. Submitting herself to the smug fuck who got to nail her. Now there was a guy with a work ethic, Daniella thought in no little trepidation, as he set about his allotted task comprehensively and with fierce enthusiasm. Everything he does to her... Her eyes widened and her throat held in her breath. Oh my God. Oh my sweet Christ, just look at that... Then the urge to pee and the need to wrestle it overtook her concentration and she cursed Eric all over.

Just another date, that's how it had started. Twenty-four hours ago she'd been expecting a leisurely day of sipping wine with the man she'd thought she might be falling for, following a bout of hot sensual love-making. Maybe cooking something together later, nestling into one another on his plush sofa with a DVD. But then she had been persuaded to let him bind her, properly that first time, to this very chair. A campaign of mortifying tease and casual disrespect. He had fondled and spanked her like a plaything, then fucked her outrageously hard, and through every second of outrage she had been slick with sexual need. Even with the realisation that her debauching was Eric's revenge against her father, hell maybe because of that, she had come with an intensity that shook her to her bones.

I've got a whole fun weekend all planned out. He'd delivered the words midway through that furious fuck and they'd stuck in her head. She would have walked out on him afterwards, though, however much he flattered himself she wanted him, had it not been for his sudden muted contrition. No full-spate outpouring of remorse, far from it, but enough to temper her fuming anger and make her stay. Stay for more. Her blood still seethed with desire; she had wanted to know what this sexy fucker had stored up in his imagination for her. Hell, she had craved the knowledge.

The disarming Eric of their first dates had returned. The beast lurked once more beneath a charming, attentive surface, but her nipples had still tingled with wariness. 'I'll see what I've got in the fridge,' he had said lightly, and suddenly it was pork stir-fry, Pinot Grigio and snuggling on the sofa. In his bed that evening the sex had been tender. He had caressed her contours and pressed his face into her yielding mound as though trying to erase the memory of the afternoon's harsh thrusting. She had straddled him and gently ridden his impressive cock, Eric letting her establish pace, so sore was she still from his earlier reaming. No screams now, rather a long aching moan on climax. He had hardly moved within her as he reached his own peak, just clasped tight to her hips and exhaled a slow voiceless breath as he jettisoned his load. As she had drifted to sleep she had declined to let him enfold her in a full-body embrace, but her hand had lain softly in his.

Then this morning - fresh orange juice, scrambled eggs and coffee brought to her on a tray. So much for the debauchery he had promised with such brio the day before. Still, if his self-reproach provided her with some pampering, why complain? It was only when she had finished the last of her eggs that he made the suggestion.

'I've had an idea to make the rest of the weekend more - fun.'

Her pulse quickened on the final word, so strong was its resonance from the day before. She kept her tone as level as possible. 'Do share.'

'Well since you've actively requested that I continue yesterday afternoon's exploration...' She blushed, it was exactly what she had done. '...I think it would be interesting if you made a certain... commitment to the proceedings.'

'Oh do you?' She raised an eyebrow, sitting up naked in the bed with the covers around her middle. It was impossible not to be intrigued. 'And what's the nature of this commitment?'

He produced the sheet of paper from his pocket. She unfolded it and read the print with a degree of incredulity. The gall of the man. 'Not going to happen,' she told him with finality. 'It's not that I don't like a surprise...' She reddened again at how the previous afternoon's surprise had affected her mind and her pussy. 'But I promise myself to nothing unless I know what it is.' She handed back the sheet.

'I respect that,' said the man who had so recently abandoned all respect. 'And yet I'd love to make this a challenge. I know you always rise to those.' He returned minutes later with a freshly-printed and revised wording. She read and her heart raced. The erotic thrills implicitly promised in those lines... 'What do you think?' he asked softly. 'Why don't we do it this way?'

She was aware of her own hoarse breath in her throat, the thump of blood in her temples, with that dangerous, unpredictable, sexy man so close to her on the bed. 'Okay, get me a pen,' she said, holding his gaze. 'I'll sign.'

His eyes had glinted with secret wickedness as he watched her writer her name to the contract. She could see it now on the coffee table as she sat in her makeshift bonds, the single sheet of A4 plucked from the printer, bearing the legend he had typed:

I hereby submit to the sexual cravings of Eric Lehane for the duration of this weekend, 17-19 July 2009. I will obey his every whim without protest, on the understanding that refusal of any demand will result in the termination of the entire entertainment.

Just too tempting, too playful to resist. And with a get-out clause just in case.

'Care to choose a safe word?' he had inquired, taking the sheet from her hand. 'That you can use if...'

'I know what a safe word is,' she had said coolly, moving in so that her face was inches from his. 'And I choose... 'prick'.' She had leaned on the word, mock-contempt all over her face.

How he had grinned. 'Time will tell if you choose to remind me of that. Go get showered. Make it quick.' His first command? The terse undercurrent to his velvet tone had made her think so and her lower abdomen had squirmed. The daggers her eyes had shot as she padded towards the bathroom had been expelled smartly, when he smacked her naked ass to propel her on her way.

She had not donned a stitch of clothing since. Having towelled herself dry and brushed her wet hair to midway down her back, she had been taken by the hand and led silently to the prepared seat. This was all new - subservience was not a role to which she was used. The tightened thrill she had felt in her tummy was new too. He had stood her in place, makeshift bonds at the ready, and made her slip into her heeled sandals, so that her petite five foot four was pushed up higher against his tall masculine bulk. Then he had drawn her nude body to him, so that her breasts crushed into the crisp white of his starched shirt, raised her head with a light touch to the tip of her chin and claimed her mouth with his.

She yielded to him easily, before his teeth snagged her lower lip and tugged, causing her breath to catch. Then his hands clapped hard to her buttocks as he let go her lip, and she registered the look on his face - all softness, all geniality replaced by lupine hunger. The same look he had worn yesterday, as his finger-fucked her vigorously to orgasm on the chair. He dropped to his knees, palms still impressing themselves against her ass-flesh, and burrowed his tongue between her thighs to tease her budding clitoris, to slither beyond her labia and writhe lustily within her. She wobbled in her heels at the thrill of his mouth's assault, but he gripped her ass to stabilize her and she gave herself up to him, fingers clutching through dark hair to his scalp in her ecstasy at being so claimed.

And then abruptly he had stopped, his tongue fleetly withdrawing. He had sat her down, trussed, prepared and instructed her. Thus she remained, with a swollen bladder and a cunt stuffed full with a plastic phallus and a head crammed with images even more lewd than those playing out on the TV screen. Daniella had become complicit in her own defilement. Eric was going to make her wait, really wait, before the game developed. So full of surprises, and smug with it. Well he'd just better match the build-up, live up to all she expected. Because she was good for it. Come on, you bastard. Her head lolled a little and her hands clenched into fists behind her back. Show me what you've got...

********************

In his favourite independent coffee shop Eric was playing a waiting game. He ordered a second cappuchino and sipped it slowly, leafing with supreme casualness through the Arts supplement of the Saturday Independent. The purchases he needed to make were limited; most of what he would need had been bought in advance of the weekend. The main reason for his trip into town had been simply to provide his guest with some reflection time. An opportunity for her to contemplate her subservient status. For that, he admitted to himself, had briefly been in question.

His post-coital reaction to Daniella just a day earlier had surprised him. Strange how the expelling of semen from one's balls could change all perception of a situation. He had never fucked as an act of revenge prior to that. It had seemed a terribly good wheeze to seduce Jonathan Blanchford's beloved girl, maybe capture some footage on camera later that weekend for the pompous oaf to view - indeed the idea still held a certain relish. He had simply not been expecting a sense of regret once the fog of angry lust had been dispelled. The smooth transition to the next act of debauching should have been easy; how could he have known that his thoughts would have reverted to Daniella's playfully ironic smile across a dinner table, to her animated chatter on subjects no twenty-year-old should know much about? Damn it if he hadn't balked at continuing his plan any further. Christ, he had suggested a further date in his efforts to appease. He had worn his contrition on his bloody sleeve.

She had let him off the hook of his own guilt. It had been more than he deserved, that much he accepted. How amusing that she should step willingly back into the trap from which he had let her walk free, prompted by her own filial grudge. Daddy broke his promise to make you a partner in the firm and he cut me off, risked my whole university career. Let's get back at him together. What a deliciously conspiratorial moment it had been. But with their pact had come an inevitable decrease in his power. She had witnessed the reflex regret in his face, she had seen weakness in him. By choosing to stay she had made the situation her own. The clever minx had thought she was in charge now. But he'd known just how to wrest the situation back to himself.

Eric smiled, his mind straying from the review of the new Black Eyed Peas album. How hard the little sweetheart had come for him, as he subjected her to his full evil intent on that kitchen chair. He'd seen it in her eyes - Daniella had never been aroused to such a pitch before, she had not believed such a thing were possible. Her sticking around was about more than getting back at dad. She needed to feel that way again, lost to wanton bliss. And who knew to what she would submit herself in order to attain such a state? What indignities would she swallow in her need for the continuation of this adventure? The contract, that stupid sheet of paper, had been a masterstroke.

He leaned back in his chair, mind flooding suddenly with sweet recollections. Daniella's orgasm-deprived body racked with helpless pleasure as his fingers plunged inside her. The clutch of her contracting pussy on his cock as he boned her hard from the rear, her limbs bound by rope and her soul by sweet lust. Those wild, full-throated cries that filled his house, as her anger at his presumption gave way to fierce ecstasy. Then later, later on when all had changed - her firm young breasts jogging lightly above him as she rode slowly and gently, fingertips on his chest and fronds of brunette hair dropping about his face. Oh God, hot little darling, hot sexy little sweetheart - sweet, sweet Daniell...

Shit, enough with the endearments! If he kept that up he'd be letting them slip out while he was with her. He shook himself from his reverie, finished his coffee and made to depart. He had trouble moving due to his erection, however, and so sat back with his newspaper for cover. Pretty girl, he told himself calmly. Relatively smart. Perfectly adequate company. Good conversationalist, nice sense of humour. Piece - of - ass. Hold to that and it would be one very satisfactory weekend. Revenge with benefits. Everyone happy. Particularly him.

Eric chinked several pound coins against his coffee cup as a tip, folded his newspaper and left. No more floundering, no more stupid guilt. This girl needs controlling and that's what she's going to get. He checked his watch on the way out - two hours, and if he went straight home that'd be two thirty. Long enough to make her squirm - yes, that'd do nicely. He just had one call to make before returning home, a short walk down the High Street.

'Is that everything sir?' the check-out girl asked, as he handed over the item he had chosen.

'That's all.'

'Is she frisky?' The girl smiled at him sweetly as she scanned the bar-code.

'Oh she's a feisty little thing all right.'

'She'll take a bit of house-training then. You'll have to show her who's the boss.'

Eric took his purchase and the receipt and returned her smile. 'Trust me, she's about to find out.'

********************

By the time Daniella heard Eric's key rattle in the lock, she had held herself on the edge of bursting for over an hour. The DVD was still churning out its explicit content, incoherent fuck-noise pouring from the speakers, but she was long past paying it any mind. All her focus was on holding in her water. She was not even sure why she was bothering any longer, short of what humiliating remarks her host for the weekend might lavish on her if he found her seated in a puddle of her own piss.

She met his gaze squarely as he came through from the entryway, tilting her chin back defiantly whatever the torment from below, whatever thrilling fear she might feel regarding his next move. And she stayed silent, just stared him a challenge through her suffering and waited to see where his whims would take her. The expression on his finely-carved features was something between benevolence and amusement. She marvelled that he could assume his old air of presumption after that rather crestfallen look of a day ago. Or was he just a very good actor? Her pulse accelerated further as he approached her; the arrogance in his bearing was tempered by something almost respectful, as he reached out and stroked her damp hair. Her arousal she felt only dimly through the pain from her distended bladder.

Eric contemplated his put-upon houseguest a moment. 'Irresistible' was the word that occurred to him, though that he kept to himself. Raven-black hair draping her slim shoulders rather stickily right now. A sheen of moisture glossing ever inch of her pale skin on that hottest of summer weekends. He watched a trickle of sweat make its path between her breasts' pert mounds, descending over the lightly-padded trim of her stomach towards the pink, vibrator-crammed revelation of her split thighs. Her exotically-tinged features were upturned to him, alert, expectant and curiously demanding. How new she was to this role and how fiercely she was sublimating the fire of her nature to explore it. I'll let you control my body, her eyes were telling him, but you'll never have my mind. Well he'd see about that.

'You have been a patient girl. I'm impressed.' His voice was soft and only mildly taunting, she thought. He tossed aside the bag he had been carrying and his firm hand touched her face gently. She gasped as his fingers traced a sweat-slick path down her neck, her body responding to him in spite of her need to relieve herself. His hand cupped the moistened curve of her left breast and he fondled her rhythmically till she groaned. Slowly his fingers glided to a point over her sweat-moistened surface and pinched hard at her engorged nipple. Her shudder was visible, she knew. She felt she could hardly hold herself in any further. Then he was behind her, kneading again, his other hand flat on her sternum and plunging gradually, till it firmly applied pressure to her lower stomach. 'Miss me?' his voice growled softly, as she winced and clenched. 'I was distracted,' she told him, her voice shallow. 'Sensory overload. And no joke, but if you keep that up I'm going to piss all over your throw-rug and nothing to be done.'

'Woops,' he said, raising his hand from her stomach. 'My bad. Let me help you - you've been very dutiful. So far.' The final words were as ominous as they were soft-spoken. She tried to hide her trembling as he dropped to his knees and began to untie her bound ankles, head between her thighs, breath flowing all over her splayed gash as he worked. Having completed the unfastening he leaned in - she watched in fascination as his carefully groomed head of dark hair homed in on her crotch - and clamped strong teeth about the base of the vibrator. Grasping her hips for leverage he drew the silver torpedo out; her pussy's residual moisture made it a comfortable reverse slide, but she thought she was going to pee herself nonetheless.

She managed to hold on and did not even tear her sweat-sodden paper wrist-bindings as she so easily could have done. That was for him to do, she understood these rules. Considerable was her surprise, though, when he arose with the vibe in hand and stowed it her mouth nearly choking her with her own flavour. 'Hold that while I get your wrists.' There was a casual roughness to his tone that pissed her off even as it drove her wild. Then with a rip she was free of all bonds, saving the printed one to which she had signed.

He leaned in behind her, hands encircling her slippery waist, his voice in her ear tender again. 'Now, anywhere you'd like to go?'

Arousal was overriding her suffering, she could feel her nipples resolve into hard points at his touch, at his breath on her face. 'Bathroom, please. Seriously. I can't hold it in...'

Eric was beguiled once more by the natural sensuality of this young woman, the way her back arched and her breasts thrust out searchingly as he caressed her. He strolled around the chair as casually as he could muster, slithered his hands about her waist and under her thighs and scooped her petite form easily up into his arms. She linked herself around his neck for support and gazed hazily into his eyes, as he carried her sweet nude form from the living-room. 'You...are a baaaad man,' she said breathily.

He stared back into those mesmerising dark eyes and felt he was actively resisting something in their allure. 'You have no idea, little girl.' It was a promise to himself as much as to her; he needed to make good on all yesterday's innuendo. The expectant sexual wonder on her face betrayed a hint of anger and disbelief as he conveyed her past the toilet and into the adjoining room. Her expression gratified him hugely.

'Why are you...' Carried into his capacious bathroom, his tread echoing on the polished-wood floor, she realised with a jump of her heart how literally he was taking her request. She clung to his neck as he tipped her back and laid her over the end of his huge antique bath, the one with the wrought-iron legs and the chrome shower attachment. The porcelain surface was cool on her hot skin. She found herself almost inverted, ass plumped against the curving wall, legs spread and hooked over the curved end of the bath, the intimacy of her swollen sex all on display for him.

'There you are,' he said lightly, as he disentangled himself from her grip. His hands went meandering over the wet slopes of her breasts, upwards to her stomach and thighs. He was enjoying this intensely, enjoying her body and her predicament. 'You asked for the bathroom. Now piss yourself. While I watch.'

She had to hand it to him, he had shocked her. The bastard was playing hardball from the start. A sense of mortified abasement was burning in the heart of her, she knew it was registering on her face as indignation. And for all the physical urgency to release, she felt her loins spontaneously tighten against it. But then he wanted her shock, didn't he? To overwhelm her with his wickedness, humble her in her submission. Maybe perversely he wanted her to give in early, prove she hadn't the courage of her big-talk the previous day. Well if that were the case she was equal to him. And, undeniably, there was something hot about this, something amazingly fucking hot. To be laid out and opened-up, as naked as could be. With his eyes all over her as he waited to see what she would do.

'Well?' His face hovering some way above the split between her legs. 'What are you waiting for? I can let you do it alone, but I'll tie you up after and leave you alone for the longest time...'

'No need.' Her face was hot and flushed, embarrassment vying with excitement. Then sudden resolve came upon her. She raised herself head and shoulders from the tub and her right arm shot up, hand latching itself to the back of his head, fingers clutching into his hair. Her upper body was taut as she clung to him for support, but her lower part thawed and gave itself up to its natural function. He thought he saw the faintest smile on her parted lips as the urine welled up from her urethra and began to river over her stomach, pooling in her belly button and then draining over her sides. He stroked her face as she gripped him, sharing his gaze between the sweet wellspring from which her piss fountained and that intense, unreadable look in her eyes. She released her hold on him, laid herself back onto the bath surface, allowed the pale gush of her water to roll across her belly, spilling around her breasts and channelling through their valley, splashing around her neck and precociously upturned chin. She closed her eyes, gave herself up to her release, embraced and enjoyed the moment, as he stared. The erection which had swelled strong inside his trousers was only part of how it moved him.

Then when she was all done and soaked in her own piss, she just stared languorously up at him. 'Did I do well?' There was a little-girl meekness to her voice that belied a whole lot else.

'You did,' he breathed, trying not to let show the strange awe that he felt. 'You were a very good girl.'

Daniella felt tired and weirdly pleased with herself. The smile on Eric's face was a softer one. She watched as he fetched the shower head from above and ran it first in the sink, testing to gain the required temperature. The water was lukewarm and comforting as he hosed down her body, starting with her displayed crotch. Her whole body undulated in sudden excitement as he directed the strong jets into her, allowed the water to filter into and spill from her spread pussy. Then he ran the head gently over the rest of her, till all her piss was thoroughly swilled away. She luxuriated in his attentions, more so when he removed his shirt, prelude to gathering together the long tresses of her dark hair and treating them with apple-scented shampoo. His fingers massaged the viscous fluid slowly and strongly into her scalp till it lathered, then he painstakingly washed her thick mane to its very tips, his face a picture of loving application to his task. He all but climbed into the tub with her as he drew her up to rinse. Her face was drawn close to his hard worked-out chest, he balanced on the bath's curved rim and gently grasping her head as he washed away the last of the suds.

'There,' he said, 'all done.' And he laid her back down again, flipped the cap on the shampoo once more and squirted the green gel all about her lower stomach.

She gasped a little as he began to spread it all around her smoothly waxed mound. 'Don't have any hair down there,' she pointed out breathlessly, while speech was still an option.

'Just making sure you're properly clean.' His voice was soft, his attentions careful and deliberate. He soaped with one hand, the circular movement slowing till his thumb rested on her clitoris. She gasped at the delicious sensation, her whole body bridling under his exquisite touch. Peering up she could see him working her intently, his fingertips moving in minute circles on her, while the hard bulge of his cock strained in response against his jeans. He reached with his other hand between the fork of her legs and she felt him strum back and forth for a moment over her sensitized cunt lips. Her body sang in response. Then two of his fingers plunged inside her and commenced to fuck briskly in and out and she was lost to all else.

The only thing she knew was Eric playing her and the erotic swell of his music throughout her being. Her eyes closed and she gave herself up to it, moments from earlier flashing across her consciousness: the firmness of his hands as he tied her to the chair, his words in her ear - 'everything he does to her...' - the writhing, thrilling torment in which he had left her. Only now with her clitoris able to bloom freely under his touch, her pussy responding and lubricating to the traction of his diligently thrusting fingers. She recalled the way he had denied her so cruelly in the recent past and feared he would inflict that agony again, but his touch only intensified and quickened, bringing her rapidly to a symphonic crescendo. She clasped her breast and squeezed till she was plucking hard at her nipples, her pelvis bucking upwards against her lover's busy hand.

'Oh God... Oh God...Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!' Eric found himself cherishing the sight of Daniella's lovely young form squirming and humping under his attentions. He clutched her loins all the way through her orgasm, her cunt tightening urgently on his pumping fingers, her juice flowing all over his palm. His dick was squeezing against the zipper of his trousers as though trying to burst its way out. Naughty girl, naughty sexy little girl. She had played him even as she pissed herself, she had claimed that moment for herself, the cunning little bitch, and if he could recall a sexier moment in his life, well he was damned. She'd done it again, lulled him into tenderness. Well have your victory, sweetheart, and enjoy your reward, because it's all about to change. This was no longer about Eric and her father, this was all about Daniella. Proving to the sweet little darling how much she wanted him. How much she was willing to do for him. That's right, squirm for me, baby, wriggle and squirm under my touch, you little...you little... Oh shit, he really needed to fuck her...

She slumped back onto the porcelain, spasming just a little further from his hands on her. He reached across and drew her up with one hand to her upper back, the other still between her legs gently stroking the hot wet slash of her cunt. 'How did that feel?' He could hear the edge to his own voice, betrayer of his soaring lust. 'How did it make you feel? All of it?'

She stared at him as through a daze, temporarily rung out by her loins' climactic explosion. 'Open.' Her eyes fixed on him more firmly. 'And exposed. It made me feel exposed.'

'And did you like that?' he pursued with quiet relish.

'Yes. Yes I did.' Eric felt a surge as though of victory at her confession. Now he knew the route down which he wanted to take her.

'Good,' he said, and as his hand slid up and grasped her by the roots of her hair, he could see the disconcerted look return to her face. 'Well then you're going to have much more of what you like.' He rose from the bath's edge and with his cunt-smeared hand plucked at the front of his jeans, unfastening in a few swift moves. Both trousers and briefs he wrenched down, allowing his erection to spring stridently into view. 'Now get your mouth around that.'

Daniella felt the prompt of his clutching hand against her scalp, but after the sweetness of her orgasm she needed no urging to give the sexy shitheel what he wanted. Pushing all reservations aside as to his longer-term intent, she gobbled up the hard velvet of his bulging glans and sucked. She heard the snarl of pleasure in his throat and worked harder, feeling him resolve to steel in her mouth as she provided hard suction on his first few inches. Oh he liked this, the bastard liked what she could do to him, she had it in her power to...

His fingers tightened in her hair and he shoved her down onto him, his smooth thick pole surging to the back of her throat so she choked. He held her firmly in place for a moment, then retracted his cock and began to thrust repeatedly, fiercely into her gullet. She could hear the sound in her own throat as she gagged on him - gluk gluk gluk - straight out of the porn scene to which he had drawn her attention. She was the girl from the on-screen action now, the little facially-abused slut. He pulled right out, leaving her lips drooling before him.

'Remember the safe word?' His voice was a bass growl.

Daniella stared past his saliva-wet cock, straight into his eyes. 'Uh-huh.' She'd know when she'd had enough. For now, she stared and opened wide, inviting his renewed plunge. When it arrived it was at least as demanding as the first and she took it all the way down this time without flinching, swallowed him to the balls and let him fuck her face. She felt scared and exhilarated to feel his length filling up her mouth, attacking her throat, and to succeed in accommodating it all. He withdrew again and she let her mouth slobber freely, never breaking his gaze.

'You want more?' There was evil in his voice, as though he expected her to be cowed by his onslaught.

'Yeah, I like it,' she whispered, and found herself almost daring him.

He stalled for slightly, then set about ripping at his footwear, divesting himself completely of clothing in brief seconds. 'So come get.' He backed away, cock still erect and slick with saliva. 'Come on little girl, come and get it.' In a different circumstance she would have laughed at such a proposition, but she loved the game, loved every twist this ridiculous arrogant fuck was inventing. And yes, she did crave his cock back in her mouth. So dignity be damned, she climbed soaking over the side of the tub, clambered onto the floor and began to crawl after him, wondering how well he liked her lithe bare form pursuing him like this.

Well enough, it seemed, for as he paced in reverse to the bathroom door his voice was hoarse with enjoyment. 'That's it, baby, come to me, come get another taste...' She made a mad shuffling dash for him, mouth agape to take in his organ's bobbing head, but he caught her by the shoulder and held her off. 'Come on, suck me.' But as she struggled to capture him with her lips, he persisted in his restraint. 'That's it, show me how much you want it. Try and get your mouth around that cock.'

Fucker, she thought, even as she strived. You think so damn much of yourself. I'll show you if you give me a fucking chance... He did. He let her go and this time it was she who surged onto him, fitting her mouth and slotting herself forcefully to near the base in a single fluid motion. She was rather impressed by her own success.

Eric was truly taken aback to find his cock all but engulfed by Daniella's hot greedy mouth. Then her hands clapped to his upper thighs and he gasped deeper, as she hauled him tight to her, taking the last of him down herself. She held her face there, lips adhered to his trimmed pubic zone, her gaze homing in on his and holding the look. See how good I am? See how good this is? He could totally read her thoughts. And shit it was good. So deep and wet - that throat contracting so tight, that wicked little tongue, goddammit, flicking out to serve drool all over his balls. Feisty little bitch! So he did nothing till she let him go and pulled herself off him to suck in air.

He grabbed her by the hair, harder than before, so she yelped. 'Bad little girl,' he chided. 'And you were being so, so good. Keep your hands to yourself.'

'But you liked it, didn't you?' Eric recognised the mischief in her voice.

'We do this on my terms,' he said evenly, and hoped he had masked his admiration with sternness.

'Can't I improvise a little?'

She had nearly been smirking, so he crammed four fingers in her mouth to shut her up. Her eyes bulged at his assertive intrusion. 'You don't improvise at all,' he told her. 'You do what you're told. You speak when you're told. Apart from one word. And that word ends everything, okay?'

Daniella nodded, mouth still full with his fingers. Her heart was thumping from the sheer sport of it all. She had taken all he had given so far, taken it with aplomb, for all that she was a novice in these games. He thought he could shock her? Let him try.

'Now get your ass to the living-room,' he was saying as he withdrew his fingers, 'just as you are. And then you'll find out what's next.'

What's next... She had hardly absorbed the words when his hand splatted hard on her ass and she was squealing in excited terror, scrambling along the passageway to the living-room. Eric was in pursuit, swatting her bum cheeks with hearty swings of his arm. 'Ow - ow - owwwww!' That much she could scarcely refrain from saying.

Scurrying with sore knees into the apartment's open-plan reception rooms, she took his next command. 'Fetch the bag. The one I came in with.' Fetch? Did he say 'fetch'? She could feel her natural indignation rise once more as she shuffled her naked self to the sofa and made to grab the bag.

'In your teeth.' This time she actually froze, as understanding of at least certain of his intentions crystallised in her mind. Now might be a good time to use that safe-word. Thing was, her pussy was wet again, and just like at university she loved a challenge. So she brought him the bag clenched in her teeth and offered it to him like a good bitch. And when he reached in and produced a diamante-studded dog collar with accompanying leash she hardly flinched, however fast her heart was racing.

'You going to be a good little doggie?' He dangled the leash in front of her so that it brushed her nose.

'Yes,' she said, her loins tingling once more at his sheer gall. 'Master.' She resisted the urge to give a little pant, lest he spank her again on her already sore bottom. Instead she swallowed her irony, remained still and silent, as he looped the collar around her slim neck and buckled it, his cock raised like a suspension bridge just inches from her face.

Now that it happened, the experience was bizarrely comforting. The past eighteen months had been a hell of self-preservation, due to the financial strictures imposed by her father. College fees, subsistence, rent - she had paid for the lot, missing numerous lectures along the way as she worked her various jobs. She had made up her academic ground through on-line research, clawed her way to respectable grades in her end-of-year exams. It felt somehow luxurious to give up all struggle and allow this charming dangerous bastard control of her body. If only for a while.

'Master?' Eric's erection reasserted itself at the word and all its connotations. The sense of his own badness swelled him utterly hard. Christ, he wanted to stick himself inside her with a fucking vengeance, but that could wait. 'Yeah, I could get to like that.' He touched his hand briefly to her cheek. 'Wait here. Don't move. And close your eyes.' Once she had obeyed the final command he went to his bedroom, to the bottom drawer where he had stored those items he deemed appropriate prior to the weekend. He smiled on his cache. Time to bring them all into play. Show this spirited little hussy who was in charge. Mobile phone, he'd need that as well, if he were to up the exhibitionist factor. He fetched it from the bathroom.

'Eyes still closed?' he checked on returning to the living-room. 'Keep it that way.' He could smell her trepidation as he set down the various accoutrements on the floor next to the leash. She was disconcerted once more - good. The sleep mask first. 'Remember this old friend?' Her whole body tremored slightly as he slipped it in place over her eyes. 'We're going to play a little party game. Guessing game. You have to guess where things go...before I put them there. Okay?' It pleased him to hear the response dry in her throat, so she could only nod her agreement. For Daniella all was darkness. Dark too was her understanding of this man with whom she could talk politics and ethics and movies, science and spirituality come to that. With whom she had laughed on dates past - clever laughter, stupid laughter. Comfortable laughter with a man of easy charm, who was fucking sexy with it. Before his games and his agenda became apparent. Even now with their supposed understanding he was playing mind-games, undermining, trying to re-establish himself as someone she had almost come to hate a day earlier. But as he played his game, she hardly cared to think why.

She felt the cold tip first, a blunt point making contact with the nape of her neck - glass, hard plastic? - and tracing a slow path the length of her spine to her very tail bone, where its presence made her shudder. He teased it in reverse a moment, then renewed its progress towards the untried little star at her rear.

'What have we got here?' he asked gently, and even if she'd been the dunce back at school, one or two scenes from today's film show would have given her the answer.

'It's a plug,' she said, but her attempted matter-of-fact tone was spoiled by the tremble in her voice. 'It's a plug for my ass...'

'Yes it is.' She squeaked as he demonstrated, pressing the tip to her reflexively tightening entrance. 'But it needs help.' A flick of something, and liquid, silky and warm on that hot day, splashed all over her lower back, draining down between her buttocks, trickling its way into her little sinkhole. Her heart was thudding already, her breath catching, when he began smoothing it down between her cheeks. More liquid being poured, pooling a little, then that tip probing again, insinuating its way slowly past her anal defences. Stretching, delving into her secret place, a fucking suppository that just expanded and opened her up. And she let it happen, allowed shrill little cries to leak out of her throat, till something that felt fat, nearly globed, slid neatly into her rectum and nestled there, making a home in its new tight space.

'You get used to that.' His voice softer than suede. 'Go on, shake that ass a little, while I try something else.' The 'something else' she could hardly contemplate; she was still wriggling her bum from side to side, giving out stifled aching cries as she tried to adjust to the rear intrusion. As she did she could hear a creak as of some hinged container being opened, followed by a metallic clink. Then something small, cold and brittle was being drawn along her jaw line from her chin and down the curve of her neck.

'Sit up,' she was instructed, and like an obedient little doggie she did, shifting her bottom gingerly to rest on her heels, the bulbous intruder continuing to exert its pressure within her anal passage. The intricate metal device was touched to her left breast and traced in a full circumference; it then began a gradual spiral inward to her mound's hard tip, till it teased her nipple in slow circles. The sensation, combined with sudden scared understanding, was exquisite and unbearable.

'You know what this is?'

She had knowledge of such accessories, but no practical experience. 'Nipple clamp. Right?' She could hear how breathy her own voice was.

'Correct.' He continued to tickle lightly about her areola. 'Tweezer clamp this type is called. There are worse. Of course I won't even try at all if you use your word. Your choice at all times.'

The prospect was frightening, made her whole body shudder, but she never even thought of getting out. 'Do it,' she said in a whisper, and then held her breath.

Tiny curved prongs were placed either side of her fully-budded nipple. Then Eric's other hand was up close applying a sharp twisting motion and the clamp seized on her, like wicked little jaws biting her breast's sensitive blood-gorged tip. 'Aaaaaagh! Ohhhhh God...' The shock of pain channelled through her like electrical current, as though connecting her sore nipple to her groin, causing her already-wet pussy to well up with new moisture. She breathed quickly and rhythmically through her sobs, trying to absorb and control the intensity of sensation.

Eric was already drawing the linking chain between her breasts, fitting the second twin-prong to her right teat. He did not pause, just twisted and tightened, sending a second fiery shock through her via her tender nipple-flesh. 'Ohhhhhh fuck!' Cruel yet thrilling, the initial bite of the clamps subsided to a dull throb; combined with the squeeze of the plug it threatened to overwhelm her senses. Her cunt was a mess of excitement. She could feel the trickle down her thighs.

'Good girl.' Eric looked on in approval at his own work. He let her kneel there for a while, panting and sweating, acclimatising to all this new sensory experience. That her loins were soaking was obvious. She was in thrall to him now, he could feel it - trembling for relief, yet unable to say the word that would relieve her from her sweet torment. Daniella was his. It was time to make his call, but only right he give her fair warning.

'Now this may seem a little presumptuous of me, but I've a small select audience all primed to look in on the next part. If you agree.' Her head jerked up. Even in her present circumstances this was a development to be reckoned with. 'My neighbours,' he explained swiftly. 'Interesting couple - they host swingers' events in their home, so anything they might see between us won't shock them. And we can easily give them a nice view.'

Swingers' events... And he knew this how? Because he'd been invited to attend some very possibly. How much of Eric's social habits did she really know about? 'And if I don't agree?'

'You know how to terminate the contract.'

Daniella burned. Eric was determined to push this to its fucking limit. Not enough that he enslave her, he wanted to share her exquisite shame with the neighbours. Terminate the contract - if she did that, then - what, he'd be done with her? He'd milk the weekend for all he could, then find someone else more suited to his games? Well to hell with his plans. She was enjoying this for her own reasons. And maybe she liked the idea of being watched.

'Let them take a good look,' she told him. 'Give them a fucking ringside seat.'

She never failed to surprise him, this girl. He could not help but be impressed. Eric flipped open his phone and re-fitted his Bluetooth for convenience. 'Gareth, hi - you and Marisha still at home? Oh, you are? Well I'll bring her right out.' He snapped the phone shut. 'They've already taken their seats,' he informed Daniella once the call was ended. It was with a good degree of self-congratulation that he hooked the leash to her collar. 'Get back on all fours. We're going walkies.' It was hard to resist, rubbing her face a little more in her plight. He savoured the moment, as she dropped back into her crawling position, then he yanked his pet into motion.

The clamps pinched tight on Daniella's nipples, clung harder on every movement she made, sending little shooting-pains into her chest. Her breasts swung lightly as she moved into a slow crawl, the suspended chain clinking as she progressed, but even that mild pendular sway accentuated the prongs' grip on her tender extremities. She could feel the plug shifting about her rectal walls on every advance of her legs and the insistent tug of the leash on her neck. It was all she could do not to cry out from her suffering tits and filled bottom, but she held her head up even so, bit on her lip to stifle her own sobs and went to her next trial bravely. Go on, show off your hot little slave. Because that's what she wants.

As he unlocked and slid open the French windows at the back of his apartment, Eric could not help but be struck by the bearing of the young creature he had leashed beside him. Lithe and slippery once more with sweat, carrying herself with stubborn pride and biting down all expression of what she felt, she reminded him more of a reined-in jaguar than a tame little tail-wagging spaniel. And God how he loved it when she chewed like that on her plump lip... Damn! He brushed away those thoughts, urged her over the threshold and onto his veranda with one sharp tug at her collar. He propelled her shuffling with a hard slap to her bum cheek that made her cry aloud, past the garden furniture to the white railings, to where his neighbours could have a good view of his naked bitch.

'Climb up against the fence. Let them see you.' She did, clambering up in her stilettos and balancing herself evenly with her legs spread, leaning against the thin metal bars with her clamped breasts thrust precociously over the top rail. He felt a sudden surge of pride at having this delicious young thoroughbred to show off. The leash he dropped, letting it dangle in front of her, the phone he set aside, his hands moving to caress her body smoothly.

'Touch yourself. Go on, show how hot you are for this. Remember you're being watched.' God... Eric naked behind her, his touch starting to flow all over her, his engorged cock pressing into her ass-crack against the base of the plug, and eyes out there somewhere fixing themselves on her plight - her heat didn't take much showing. Her right hand dropped down between her thighs and her middle finger slithered easily inside the wet folds of her cunt to probe and search. The metal teeth on her nipples continued to shoot wicked little darts of sensation that lubricated her further, made her finger slip all the more easily into her pulsing channel. Eric's palms flexed on her thighs, fingertips pressing into her yielding, slightly buttery flesh until they trailed upwards over her loins, either side of her working hand, breaking and settling again to cup her poor sore breasts from below and gently massage them. 'That's it, explore yourself, give in to it. You want to give a good show, don't you?'

She delved deeper, lower back arching spontaneously, so that her shoulders strained back into Eric's broad torso and her breasts jutted more prominently even as they were stroked. Her body was over-stimulated and moving fast through the normally subtle gradations of arousal. Outdoors and on display to strangers, gripped from behind by this hard-bodied sexy fucker whose hard dick was ready to plough he any moment he chose, nipped at her front and plugged in her rear - it was mere seconds before her finger was buried to the third knuckle inside her, the heel of her palm mashing itself against her enflamed clit, juice issuing freely from the tight, swollen tunnel of her cunt.

'That's it, that's it, frig yourself, get yourself off. Go on, sweetheart, show what a hot little bitch you are. Go on, baby.' His fingers were pressing more urgently into her painful tit-flesh, his loins squeezing hard into her buttocks. He was loving this. Loving that he was parading her hot little body before his decadent neighbours, but crazy for her too, despite himself. She could hear the fierce, warm excitement in his voice, at odds with the cool he so often tried to adopt with her. Despite her myriad bodily sensations it was the knowledge of his desire for her that tipped her into orgasm. Her mewling cries increased to a full-throated scream, as pain and delight exploded together to consume her.

In that instant Eric reached up and whipped the sleep mask from her eyes. Light had already been exploding in her head, so she hardly registered the summer daylight till her wild excitement began to subside. As her second climax of that day shuddered its way free of her, her audience became very apparent. A huge two-storey house of grand design had been built into the slopes stretching away from Eric's apartment block. Its white stonework had a rough-cast Mediterranean look about it and on the upstairs veranda a couple were relaxing, replenishing their glasses from a large jug as their afternoon entertainment played out. She was blonde, svelte and bikinied in her late thirties, he around the same age as Daniella's father, only better-preserved, hair silvering and bare torso tanned and muscular. Thing was, she recognised him.

'Gareth Malone,' Eric muttered into her ear. 'Ring any bells?' Bastard. Fucking bastard. Gareth Malone - accountant to Daniella's father over half her life. She had met him on numerous occasions at their home growing up, most recently the previous Christmas. He appeared to be scrutinising her intently from a couple of hundred yards away. 'Of course he may not have realised it's you,' Eric whispered his hands still patrolling her gently.

'You fucker,' she breathed, almost ready to turn around and slap him with all the force she could summon. She had no doubt from the transfixed look on Malone's face and the asides he was making to his voyeur-partner, that he was fully aware at whom he was looking. 'You think you're so damned clever.'

'Even if he does recognise you, he's hardly going to say anything to your dad,' Eric pointed out. He leaned into her so that his dick was more pronounced against her ass. 'Think how surprised he'll be to see you all grown up.'

'You smartass fucking...' She felt like her blood temperature was shooting skyward.

'Prick? Say it if you mean it, Daniella.' He manipulated his erect organ downwards, slipping it between her thighs so he could slide it back and forth against her wet slit. And he continued to goad as he did it. 'Because if you don't, I'm going to fuck you right in front of them both. Go on, sweetheart, what's it to be? Call the whole thing off or my dick inside you while they watch? Your call. Tell me what...'

Daniella twisted her neck around and glared at him. 'Look, just shut up and fuck me, you idiot!'

Eric paused just a fraction. This girl never did quite what he expected. And what she did do had the regular knack of turning him on even more than he already had been. He responded in the only way appropriate. By adjusting the head of his cock to the entrance of her simmering pussy, laying claim to her waist with both hands and launching a mighty fuck-stroke that buried him inside her to the balls.

Daniella clung to the rail and cried out loud enough to rouse an entire block's worth of neighbours. Her tits shook, nipples burning, as Eric assaulted her cunt with a protracted hard-pounding barrage. He always filled her well, but this time she had the plug inside her for added company, each dick-thrust forcing it tight against her rectal walls. 'Ohhhh God...' Eric was groaning, as he made his repeated plunge. 'Ohhhhh fuck...' He was commencing to whack one of her plump bum-cheeks with great swinging flourishes of his palm, as though words had run out and that was the only way he could express himself. That, and what he did next - to grab the leash where it linked to the collar and drag it towards him, like he were reining in a recalcitrant dog; Daniella felt herself pulled up by the neck, her breasts thrusting out and her back curving, as Eric's cock continued to ream her pussy. She was all but lost to herself. Naked and subjugated, leashed and thrashed in public, boned to her centre before those prurient eyes - and loving every searing-hot second of it. And in all this she had just a hint of mischief left lurking within...

'Gimme the Bluetooth,' she gasped, the first time Eric slowed a little in his thrusting, and he let go the leash so as not to constrict her speech. 'Put it on me,' she insisted. 'You were going to phone him anyway, weren't you? Go on, do it and let him hear me.' His cock had slowed further; in a moment he had scrabbled the device from his ear and fitted it to hers. He was still pumping her though, as he retrieved the mobile and hit the repeat-call.

Across the short valley they could see Gareth Malone pick up his phone to answer, his amorous partner draped around him so she could listen in. Eric immediately rammed hard again, smacking into Daniella's ass cheeks with force and unleashing a loud, ecstatic scream from her lungs. She continued to moan her excitement down the phone connection; on the opposite veranda the blonde woman's hand was delving below the table, presumably to begin tugging on Malone's stiffening cock.

For all Eric's fierce effort, Daniella succeeded in catching her breath so she could communicate more coherently, even as his hard strokes whacked into her. 'Hey Mr Malone, you getting all this? Good view? You like watching Jonathan's little girl getting fucked?' Nothing on the other end but rapt attention and hoarse breathing. She continued between her own gasps. 'He feels so big inside me, Mr Malone, he's fucking me so hard... Would you like to do me like this? Would you? Well I'm sorry, you'll just have to wank off on the memory, because looking is all you're going to get...'

Eric would have laughed, had he not been channelling all his energy into a hard fuck. Wicked little bitch... He just couldn't throw this girl off her stride - not for long anyway, game-playing little nymph, sexy little... little... The ear-piece he tore off her, chucking it casually aside. Then he grabbed her by the shoulder in a reckless moment, pulled her face to his and kissed her hard, fervently, his fingers searching their way into her hair as their tongues slid together. They broke but remained close, lips almost brushing, both breathing hard, his motionless cock thrust deep inside her.

The sudden intimacy she had drawn from him triggered in Eric a similar reaction to before. He felt a need to up his game. 'I want to take your ass.'

There had been a deliberate hardened his voice as he said it, but she didn't miss a beat in responding. 'You can have it. But not here.'

Eric had been all set to act, before her final words stalled him. 'But not...' What, was she trying to set conditions now?

'Come on, Eric, if you want to fuck my ass, where do you really want to do it?' There was a rawness to her tone. He got her meaning instantly. 'Daddy's out all afternoon, I know it for a fact...'

'Is that so?' Eric so wanted to take this bait. 'Well maybe I'll finish off fucking you here and then do it all over again at his...'

'You won't.' She ran her tongue along his jaw line and spoke into his ear. 'You want to fuck my ass on Daddy's bed, you take me there right now, or it's never going to happen. Your call.'

Devious little... She had him, there was no denying it. 'Okay,' he said, gripping her waist as he slowly withdrew his unsated cock from the tight sheath of her cunt. 'This we do your way.'

'And one other thing...' He gave her a warning stare, but was met with a pleading frown in response. 'Would you please take off the nipple clamps? They're starting to hurt like fuck.'

That much he did for her, stroking her hair as he unscrewed each ring to loosen the clamps' grip on her. He even laved both her nipples with slow swirls of his tongue, making her moan and cry out her relief as the pain subsided. In the midst of all his commands, this act of tenderness seemed all the more special. Then he took charge again, roughly, grabbing her by the collar and hauling her to the bedroom as she stumbled and squealed in scared delight. Her whole body thrilled now to every nasty thing he did. Her impromptu move had undermined all his carefully laid-out plans and she relished his efforts to wrest control back to himself. She almost felt distracted from the fact that she was soon to get ass-fucked for the very first time. Everything he does to her... Had she ever doubted he would follow through?

The man-size tee-shirt he slung at her with a brusque 'Put it on and get your bag,' once he had struggled into jeans, shirt and trainers himself. It was the first above-ankle piece of clothing - the collar hardly counted - that she had worn all day. The garment stretched to just below her otherwise naked ass. She felt that scary sense of exposure once more, tugging at the hem as they took the lift down to the ground-level garage, the jewelled dog collar still circling her neck. The young couple who shared the descent with them tried not to stare at what was surely an obvious mid-fuck break, likewise the middle-aged man departing his car next to Eric's Lotus. Daniella knew that guy would be looking back in advanced interest as Eric bundled her unceremoniously into the back of his vehicle, her naked pussy and plugged ass on display as the tee rode up around her waist. She wondered if anyone had noticed Eric gripping the currently detached leash. In the urgency of the stalled fuck she did not care. As Eric revved the car and swung out of the garage, as he drove the few short miles through town to the suburb where Daniella spent holidays living with her father, she lay on the back seat with her legs spread, fingering herself in hot expectation. If her partner-in-lust gave a damn about her pussy leaking all over the suede upholstering of his car he did not show it. He was all grimly intent demeanour and silent willing of traffic at busy junctions, as he homed in on the destination where he would complete his defilement.

Jonathan Blanchford's car was notably absent from the gravel drive that fronted the house when they arrived. 'You sure he's not going to make an appearance?' Eric asked, as he pulled Daniella briskly from her reclining position and out of the vehicle.

'Playing cricket. He won't be back for another hour,' she said, face flushed as he propelled her towards the front door of the plush Blanchford residence. 'Why, you scared?'

'Just get us inside.' He clapped his hand hard to her bum right on the base of the plug, with no thought as to what neighbours or passers-by might see. She shrieked, then almost quivering with renewed longing delved into her Sarah Bergman bag and rummaged till she found the keys. Then Eric was bustling her into the house where she had grown up, hardly allowing her time to switch off the security alarm, shoving her tee-clad form into the...

'Kitchen?' He was dragging open the big refrigerator door, still clutching her by the arm, before she'd registered what was going on.

'Forgot the lube,' he explained tersely, as he ransacked the fridge's contents. 'Need to improvise. Butter - too damn hard. Got to be something... Here we go, shit, this is fucking perfect. And it's full, too.' She was already palpitating when he slammed shut the stainless steel door and shoved her up against it, brandishing the can of squirt cream in front of her. 'Ever played with this?'

She shook her head mutely, awaiting his next move in a kind of joyous turmoil. Then he was grabbing her tee-shirt by the hem, ripping it upwards and dragging it over her head and off her arms to expose her fully once more, this time in her dad's kitchen. He wrenched the top off the can of compressed cream and pinned her to the fridge, pointing the long nozzle in her face. 'Now where first?' She watch him flip it downwards and hit the trigger hard, felt the cold splurge of refrigerated cream all over her tits. Felt him trail the nozzle down her stomach leaving a creamy trail, till he fitted it between her pussy lips and shot a brief blast into her recently fucked channel.

He was down on his knees next second grabbing her ass, his tongue thrusting inside her, feasting on the synthetic cream as it melted into her cunt juice. She could not help but picture her dad's expression were he to walk in now and find Eric tongue-fucking all the flavour out of her right there in the old family kitchen. Or her mother for that matter, were she to make one of her rare return-appearances - jealous perhaps to see her daughter being eaten out so thoroughly? Her hands pressed flat against the steel surface as she succumbed totally to Eric's ravenous enjoyment.

Delicious, so fucking delicious. The cream was just garnish to the gourmet delight that was Daniella. Having scooped the last of the sweetness from the hot receptacle of her cunt, he followed the trail he had left back up her body, till his tongue was slavering over her stickily-coated tits. He skated in broad circles over one gorgeous mound, lapping up every last trace of cream till he was focused on the sore nipple, sucking it hard. Then he repeated the process on her other breast, lavishing his tongue on her, homing in on the tender peak. She was still bleating in pained response to his sucking attentions when he rose, put his mouth on hers and engaged her in a creamy tongue-kiss.

The union of their mouths was long and luxurious and soon he felt his cock pressing bone-hard against his jeans once more. He let her hear the zipper's rasp and saw the flash of response in her eyes. 'Knees,' was all he said, and she slithered her naked back all the way down the fridge surface, till she was kneeling dutifully on the kitchen floor before his freshly exposed cock. He had already taken the canister and he sprayed generously from base to tip, leaving a great inviting blob dancing on the glans.

Daniella's eyes widened up at the treat proffered to her in Daddy's kitchen - a hard cock frosted like a great cream-doughnut for her delectation. So fucking naughty. She licked the great glob from the head with relish, then gobbled her way down the shaft, sucking and slurping the fondant mess from Eric's smooth, bulged length. She took him in again all the way, then relinquished him, creamy drool dangling between her lips and his dick, running down her chin. Then she skated above and below, covering all of his surface to the very balls, licking him clean. She even rubbed him, saliva-soaked all over her face and he just stood motionless and staring, letting her get on with it.

They were both off-script and improvising now, and Eric was somehow fine with that. In fact, he wouldn't have had it any other way. Maybe he could never bend this girl completely to his will. But the fun was in the trying. He hoisted her from under the armpits to her feet and locked her into another long, hard kiss. Then 'Bedroom, now,' he said, having broken their lip-lock, and her eyes blazed with fearful, needy anticipation. He had made a promise and they both knew he intended to keep it.

Daniella found herself dragged once more through the hallway, then stumbling up the stairs to the second storey, compelled by a madman with a dog leash and a can of compressed dessert cream. She was just as compelled from within herself, though. At least part of his dynamic lust was down to her, she knew that now, and with every move he made her heart and loins exulted. 'Which room?' he demanded, and she indicated with her head. He hauled her inside; she watched his eyes flick around for a moment to take in the sparsely-adorned walls of Jonathan Blanchford's divorcee bedroom. Then he threw her face-down and yelping onto the navy covers of the adequately-made bed.

She was picking herself up when he grabbed her wrists and circled the leash around them, pulling it tight. He looped on end around the iron railing at the head of the bed and fastened it to the band on her wrists, tethering her securely. Swift, spontaneous and unnervingly sexy. He was stripping now, right beside her. His handsomely rigid fuck-stick bobbed as he divested himself of his jeans. No talk, not so much as a word - just the swift undertaking of a fevered sex-mission. Then he was gone from her view and she only felt him - wrenching her thighs apart, climbing onto her from behind, positioning himself and re-uniting cock and cunt in a single fluid stroke.

Fleet, hard sword-thrusts to her depths, filling and juicing her to the utmost. 'Ohh yes... Nice and wet, that'll help,' he was saying, and she recalled the girl from scene three, knew she was about to get cored in exactly the same way as that rectally besieged porn slut, only for the first time and on her own father's duvet. Her anal muscles throbbed around the ever-present plastic bulge at that thought, as Eric rammed home a few more cunt-slamming strokes.

He pulled out, cock slick and shiny with her, and grabbed for the base of the plug, making her seize up in response. 'Slow and easy,' he reassured, and set about withdrawing the tight-fitted toy, watching her anus swell to spit it out.

Daniella groaned at the lewd sensation of her rear-entrance stretching to expel the fat plastic bolus from her ass. She was just registering the sense of emptiness when the next anal indignity was perpetrated - the nozzle of the canister poked into her asshole and probed as far as it could go. The whole business was compellingly sordid. She felt dirty and used and thrilled beyond all previous imaginings.

'You ready for this?' There was exuberance in Eric's voice.

'Just do it,' she said in a fervency of lust. 'Shoot it up me.' She felt him squeeze hard and a great cold surge of cream filled up her anal cavity like iced insulating foam. 'Oh my God...' Her wrists were pressed tight against the rail, hands clenched at the inundation of fake dairy into her bowels. Eric pulled the hard tube out of her and she immediately felt the thick fluid start to ooze and fart its way in pursuit. That was until her wicked lover plugged the escape route with himself. The hard swollen sponge of Eric's cock-head thrust dramatically into her already cream-filled ass.

'God, baby, I think this is going to work. You all set? No safe-word?'

What, did he want her to plead? Get all concerned and reluctant? She knew this was going to hurt, her whole body was bracing in preparation, but she actively needed this to be underway. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of going all helpless and girlish. 'Screw the safe-word, I'll just think it. Now bring it on... Fuck my ass, right now, right here on Daddy's bed...'

Too beautiful an invitation to resist. Eric gritted his teeth and pushed hard, recklessly, sinking the first of his length into Daniella's rectum till the lubrication could do no more against her tightening sphincter. Curls of cream spurted out around his invading pole as she cried out wildly. He retreated and went in again, slower this time, more warily, trying to draw out no more than a fearful moan. The hot little thing had got him all fired up. She would insist on doing that, wouldn't she? He gripped her globed ass and slid back and forth in a smooth motion, easing his shaft gradually deeper, sinking himself incrementally into Daniella's tight rectal chasm. Ohhhh God, right to the balls, right to the balls inside this crazy little darling...

Danialla's whole body felt ablaze along with her bottom. Adrenalin was pumping through her, endorphins firing in her brain. It hurt, but it was glorious. Plug be damned, now she had a great throbbing-hard length of cock-flesh sunk inside her ass, powered by a bastard at the height of his sexual powers. So nasty, so wrong, to be strapped and anally dominated on her father's bed - so fucking perfect. He was gripping her hard, burying the last of himself, holding still with his balls nestling cosily against her bum. Now he was withdrawing a little and pushing. Repeating the same movement. Asserting himself inside her. She could almost see the blissful snarl on his face. 'You like that?' She could only speak in ragged panting gasps. 'Feel - Feel as good as you hoped?'

'Ohhhh sweetheart, yes...' His voice gutteral and constricted.

'You going to fuck me then?'

'Am I...'

'Going to fuck me? Really fuck me?' Her voice quaking yet taunting. She could hardly believe her nerve in saying it. 'What sort of a defiler are you? Are you going to... Aaaaaaaagh!!!' He had pulled halfway out and powered back in, cramming her with cock.

'That it? That what you want?'

'Fuck! Yeah... No! Not so hard...'

'Alright, alright, sorry...'

'It's okay, it's okay...' Christ, that had been way more than she could chew. His apology was a surprise. 'That's better, that's good, keep it like that... Ohhhhh...'

He was pumping slow, smooth and deep now, watching himself glide in and out of Daniella's expanded anus, cream still spewing forth as he thrust, frothing around his bollocks. Her voice achieving a consistent mid-level keening, as his cock gently, persistently opened up her ass.

'Touch me...' she managed to moan. 'Eric, I want to come... Please...' He leaned further into her, slipped his hand beneath her and found with ease the wet, pulsing cherry of her clitoris. He thrust and rubbed in unison, palm flat on her pubic mound, knowing at once the wetness of her cunt and tightness of her clutching asshole. He wanted her to come, wanted her pussy spasming and her body bucking as he fucked into her ass. Not just for the physical sensation though, not just for his own stupid ego, but because...well...he wanted her to feel good, to feel wild and filthy and special and...and wanted. He wanted her to feel wanted. So he screwed her slowly and frigged her hard and pressed his arm tight to her breasts until her semi-anguished cries melted subtly into the pre-orgasmic.

'Oh fuck,' she was saying, 'that feels so good, so good... Fuck me, fuck me, I'm going to come, you're going to make me come...'

He was going to be right there with her. Urgency was upon him... speeding up his strokes... he was squeezing himself tight to her, pressure building, building in them both, rocketing towards something incendiary... He was about to blow, about to spew forth all the things he'd sworn he wouldn't say... 'Oh God, Daniella, that feels amazing, you feel amazing, you're so fucking... so fucking...'

'...What?'

'So fucking amazing...'

They both came, extravagantly. Her ass clutched him hard, as he blew an enormous wad deep inside her. It occurred to Eric afterwards that this was probably as romantic as pumping a girl's ass full of semen ever got.

Daniella's thoughts were muddled for a while. All she could feel was Eric's sweaty embrace and the slow messy retraction of his cock from her tight-clenched bumhole. and she clung to the unexpected revelation of her amazingness. Gradually he slid off her and rolled back on the duvet, panting at the ceiling.

'You okay?' he inquired, eyes flicking to her briefly.

'Fine,' she replied through her weary haze, thick milky fluid sliming out of her. 'Any time you want to untie me. Or are we still playing?'

'Ah. Apologies.' He smiled ruefully and made to free her. Then the car was heard turning into the drive. They froze momentarily, looking at each other in considerable shock.

'Shit. Cricket over?'

'Daddy's team must have collapsed again. Their having a bad season.'

'Right. Well - I'd better get you sorted. Quick.'

'Thought you'd already done that,' Daniella said slyly, as he released her from her bonds. 'And isn't it your sweetest fantasy, him finding me trapped like this? What, are you frightened?'

'Not for myself.' Eric was briskly gathering up his clothes. He could hear the car radio blaring, the ignition shutting off. Blanchford would already be wondering why Eric's car was parked outside his house. 'I've as good as resigned, but you've got to live with him, in the short-term at any rate.'

She was kneeling nude on the bed, with a daring look on her face. 'Don't you want him to walk in on us, just a little?'

He got exasperated. 'Are you fucking crazy? Get your ass into your own room and clean up now! Take the damn plug and the whipped cream and the leash, and...and turn the duvet, it's a fucking mess! I'll sort myself out in the bathroom - I came round to see him and you let me in, that's the story. For God's sake go!'

Daniella had been more than slightly thrown by her father's return, but the chance to make Eric sweat a little had been too tempting. She flipped the soiled duvet - a temporary measure - and scurried to her room with all dubious items plus a throbbing rectum, her fuck-partner diving simultaneously for the bathroom. There followed a rather desperate clean-up at her sink, not least due to the continued leakage of cum from her newly-taken asshole. Her dad's voice sounded through the house as she carried out her frantic and somewhat acrobatic ablutions: 'Hello? Who's here?' A minute later she heard Eric's voice joining her father's in a brusque exchange.

She hurried downstairs shortly after, having slipped on panties, flip-flops and a pale blue summer dress, hoping that brushed hair and a blast of antiperspirant would mask the whole just-fucked thing. The scene she found in the hallway was something of a stand-off. Her father, still in his too neatly-fitting cricketing whites, was wielding his bat in sitcom fashion, she thought. His hair was awry and his rather puffy face was reddening.

'Anything I had to tell you, I did yesterday over the phone. And my mind hasn't changed,' he was blunting informing his current employee.

'I didn't come here to change you mind,' Eric retaliated calmly. Blanchford was a big, broad man, but Eric had a height advantage. He had managed, she noticed, to cover over his post-copulative untidiness with admirable ease.

'Well what did you come for in that case? I don't particularly care to come home and find you in my house.'

'I invited him in,' Daniella interrupted swiftly. 'And no, he didn't come here to change your mind about anything. He didn't come here to talk to you at all.' Her father looked to her for explanation. So did Eric, come to that. 'He came to ask me out. On a date.'

'He did what?'

'And I said yes. He's taking me to the Latymer Restaurant. That's the five-star Latymer Restaurant. Tonight. Aren't you, Eric?'

'Y-es,' Eric concurred, after the briefest of hesitations. 'Yes I am.'

'What? You're... You mean...'

Daniella swept past the perturbed parent, catching Eric's arm and spiriting him towards the front door, before her dad's perplexity could turn to anger. 'Reservation at seven,' she explained. 'No time to spare.' She paused at the doorway, reconsidered and dashed back. 'I love you, Daddy,' she said, kissing him smartly on the cheek, 'but sometimes you're an ass. Like breaking your word to Eric over the partnership, very short-sighted if you ask me. Bye.' She left him too stunned even to fume.

She and Eric had reached the Lotus before he reminded her about the man's tee-shirt on the kitchen floor. 'I'll think of something before I see him next,' she said offhandedly, as they slid into the front of the car.

'And the lingering smell of sex in the bedroom?'

'He might have forgotten what that is,' she shrugged. 'It's been a while for him, poor love. Anyway, I keep house too well for him to chuck me out. He secretly dreads me going back to college now that mum's left. You know, I'm feeling forgiving towards him already. Anyway - could we stop at your place before dinner? I think we both really need to shower.'

Eric stared at her primly expectant face. He was still reeling slightly from their conversation with her father. 'Excuse me,' he said lightly, 'anywhere we might go to eat is subject to my decision.' He plucked the A4 sheet from his back pocket - he had stowed it there before leaving his apartment - and held it up for her to see. 'You're still bound by this, for the rest of the weekend.'

She snatched it from him without breaking his stare, ripped it in two, then four, and handed him back the pieces. 'Prick,' she said firmly. 'Self-regarding, arrogant prick. It's a bloody wonder I still like you. Now get on the phone to the Latymer and if they're booked up, take me somewhere else up-market.'

Eric struggled a moment for words. He could not break from Daniella's gaze, from the wicked wisdom and beauty of those dark eyes. The feelings he had tried to conceal from Daniella and himself, he feared, were plastered all over his face. He made a valiant attempt to fight back nonetheless. 'And...what the hell makes you think I'm not going to kick your ass out of the car and pack you back to Daddy right now?'

'Because,' said Daniella with a confidence born of one crazy afternoon, 'you've never had ass like this before. Go on, deny it.' He said nothing. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the mouth. 'You want more nasty, take me somewhere nice.'

Eric's pulse raced. His discomfort was real, but it was countered by a sense of wild excitement. He could have freed himself by a single sharp rebuke and by damn well driving off alone, but he did not want to. Not for an instant. It just wasn't an option. Never in his life, never once, had he felt quite like this. He drew Daniella to him and returned the soft kiss to her mouth, lingering just a little. 'Let's go eat,' he said.

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