“Oh, God…oh, God…yes…” He lifted my hips, by pressing against the backs of my thighs, exposing me even more. I wasn’t sure what he intended, until I felt his tongue on my anus, spearing me gently. “No…oh…no…” A tongue filled my mouth with sugary silk silencing my protests. I had never had my bottom reamed before. The feeling was so deliciously intense; I prayed it never ended. Saliva dripped to the bedspread beneath me, as he worked the tight bands of my sphincter, loosening the muscles, bit by bit.
“I think she’s more than ready,” he murmured thickly.
They could do whatever they wanted, and I would gladly accept it. The man on the bed reclined on his back, a formidable looking cock thrusting in the air. “Come give it a lick, sweetheart.” I reached for him, feeling wetness. My lips closed around the musky shaft, smelling myself on him. I worked aggressively, drawing on the end, as if sucking fluid through a straw. “Yeah, baby. That’s it.” His hands tangled in my hair, fingertips pressing into my scalp. “Oh, honey…”
“Ride that cock.”
My eagerness should have alarmed me, but I straddled him without preamble, lowering onto the waiting shaft. I loved this position, because the feeling of fullness was deliciously pronounced. I began to rub back and forth, grinding against him and stimulating my clitoris with each pass. Hands were on my bottom, massaging and encouraging me to continue. Something wet poured over my sensitive skin, a finger toying with my anus. I knew what they intended, and the thought sent a fireball of lust through me. I had never had anal intercourse before because my sex life wasn’t that adventurous. I doubted I would like it, but these men were more than welcome to prove me wrong.
“Ooohh…ouch.”
He’d inserted a finger, drawing it in and out. The pressure was pronounced, the sensation oddly arousing. I collapsed on the man beneath me, burying my face in a thick neck. Hands massaged my cheeks, the finger dipping further. More fluid was poured, the excess running along the length of my inner thighs. The bed moved; the person behind me was getting into position, preparing to use me.
“This little hole is gonna be tight,” he murmured.
“Fuck that ass,” grunted Cale.
I braced myself for horrific pain, but instead, I felt only the tip of him, pushing, broadening my entrance. He eased inside slowly, opening up the constricted bands by tiny increments. He could have just driven in, devil-may-care, but he took his time, allowing me to adjust to the immense intrusion.
“Oh, God!” I gasped. The sensation of fullness was outrageous, and surprisingly exciting. My tummy tensed, a wild rush of tingles registering. Cale’s cock continued to hammer upwards, filling me nearly to my cervix. “Ooohhh…oh…shit!”
I gritted my teeth, as the largest part of him sunk, stinging my little hole, the edges smarting. That was the worst part of the experience, and, as he began to move, pleasure flared, enhancing every sensation. The pressure was astounding, the feeling so extreme, I gasped, as the inklings of orgasm threatened. My entire pelvic region was engaged and fully aroused. I had never experienced anything this intense before. The pleasure/pain sensation pushed the boundaries of what I thought I knew about sex to a whole new level.
“Oh, fuck, man,” gasped Cale. “I’m gettin’ close.”
My face was buried in a sweaty neck, while my body endured every stroke, every touch of the men using me. The cock in my ass drove deep, finding respite in my bowls, while the hardness in my pussy plunged upwards, stiffening.
“Awww…Jesus…” Semen jetted into my silken passage.
Fingers dug into my hips, while my bottom was taken vigorously. Each thrust brought a tiny shot of pain that exacerbated the feeling of pleasure. I shuddered then, convulsing, and gasping, “Omigod! Fuck me! Fuck me!” I’d never uttered those words in my life, but I needed him to use me at that moment, the crest of bliss reaching its summit. I collapsed on the man beneath me, while the cock in my ass plunged deep and stiffened, spraying my insides with white-hot cum.
“Fuck, yeah!” he shouted. “God…oh, man…”
I was exhausted; my body was slickened with perspiration. The man beneath me shifted slightly, his cock falling free. I dripped with semen, desperately needing to use the bathroom.
“Your job’s done here,” said Mr. Gordon. The men took their towels and left the room. His attention was on me. “Clean yourself up, and get out.” He stood abruptly and headed for the door.
I had seen something unusual in that brief moment. There had been a dark spot on his pants, between his legs. He had ejaculated! Seeing me taken by two men had turned him on so much he had come in his pants. That had never happened before. I slid off the bed and snatched my clothing from the chair. I tidied myself in the bathroom, using a washcloth and warm water. I reapplied lipstick and dabbed the flecks of mascara away under my eyes. When I emerged, the baldheaded man known as Cale was in the room.
“You were a delight.” He handed me cash. “I was told to pay the whore.” He strode towards the door.
I glanced at the money, feeling numb. “Wait.” He paused, one hand on the doorknob. “I…need your help with something.” He glanced at me. “You’re for hire, right? You do this for a job.”
“Yeah, so what?”
“Can I hire you?”
“You can do whatever you want.”
I dug through my purse, grabbing my phone. “What’s your number?”
“What you got in mind?”
“I…have some bondage I wanna do.”
He smiled. “To Mr. Gordon?”
“Um, maybe.”
“He won’t be happy about that.”
“Just gimme your number. We’ll worry about the details later.”
Chapter Seven
Patience had never been one of my virtues, and, as the weeks wore on, I began to despair that the opportunity to exert some control of my own would never arrive. The clinic was up and running, with a second on the verge of opening; my sister was on her way home for a visit, and I found myself nearly insane with expectation…waiting for tonight. I had received a call two days ago informing me that my wait was over. I was going to risk everything that I had worked so hard for, including every penny I had left in my bank account, but I didn’t care.
I knew I was in trouble. My obsession had reached epic levels, and I was embarrassed to admit all the hours I spent online watching interviews I had now memorized by heart. Pictures of Mr. Gordon were burned into my consciousness. I could close my eyes and see him clearly. An indefinable yearning had manifested in my gut, like an aggressive cancer. It was eating away at me every day. My dreams were vivid and far too realistic. I saw myself with him, in what I imagined his apartment to be, his plane or his car, but most importantly, in his arms. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. It would all come true tonight. The limousine picked me up after seven, and I was ready, feeling anxious, yet excited, to see my plan reach fruition. The thought of failure was not even a consideration. Tonight would either bring the end of all that I had worked for or the beginning of something new.