Black Orchid (20 page)

'You're a real pro, aintcha?'

Maggie remembered reading somewhere that prostitutes
never kissed their clients on the lips, so when he moved
towards her, she twisted her head to one side. She bit her lip
as his hands roamed at will over her breasts and hips before
grabbing at her hem. She heard something rip as he hoiked
her skirt over her waist.

He fumbled with the waistband of her tights and she felt a
ladder run down one leg as he rolled them down to her knees.
Her briefs followed and she momentarily closed her eyes. He
was breathing heavily now, his breath hot on her neck as he
dispensed with the zip on his jeans. He didn't bother to pull
them down, merely opening up the fly and slipping his swollen
cock over the top of his underpants.

He swore as he fumbled with the condom, throwing the
wrapper onto the ground. It swirled with the rest of the litter
in the little eddies of wind which whistled round their ankles.
Empty crisp packets, cigarettes butts and soft drink cans. The
alley acted like a wind tunnel, the acrid smell of urine caught
in its gutters.

Maggie braced herself against the damp brick wall as his
cock nudged between her legs. He sighed as it found its mark
and slipped up, inside her. His thrusts were hampered by his
position, but he leaned both palms against the wall, either
side of her head for balance, his face a mask of introverted
concentration.

He gave an almost primaeval shout of triumph as he came,
unconscious of Maggie's wince of pain as her tender rear was
knocked against the sharp brickwork. He grinned as he withdrew,
nonchalantly unrolling the used condom and throwing
it to the ground.

Maggie pulled up her underwear, avoiding his eye. When
he had rebuttoned his fly, he took a roll of money from the
back pocket of his jeans and peeled off a ten pound note.
Maggie took it, her eyes downcast. She had no choice – she
hadn't brought her bag and she would need some cash for a
taxi.

'Thanks darlin',' the man said, 'that wasn't bad.'

Maggie kept her eyes fixed on his legs as he turned and
walked away, whistling through his teeth. As soon as he had
gone, she ran her fingers through her hair and smoothed her
dress. Her lower lip trembled as she fought to keep from
crying with reaction. Her tights were torn beyond repair, so
she quickly took them off and guiltily added to the litter in
the alley. All she could think of was getting out of the alley
before some smart aleck decided she might want another
'customer'.

At the entrance to the alley she glanced cautiously left and
right before tottering unsteadily on her high-heels along the
pavement. She could see a phone box further down the street.
Hopefully there would be a directory inside so she could find
a number for a taxi firm. Her heart sank as she realised she
had no change.

A car slowed down as it approached her and she went cold.
A kerb crawler was all she needed! Gathering all her courage,
Maggie stopped walking and turned, ready to give the driver
a piece of her mind. As she turned, the nearside rear door
opened, as if the driver expected her to get in. She nearly
fainted with relief as she bent down and saw Alexander
smiling at her.

'You! You left me! How could you!'

He laughed. She couldn't believe it, he actually laughed!

'Get in Maggie, let's go home.'

She settled into the black leather seats and allowed herself
to be drawn into his arms. Antony changed gear and they sped
away from the café and towards the Black Orchid Club.

'Did you really think we'd abandoned you?' Alexander
murmured, kissing her hair.

'Yes I did! It was horrible.'

'Were you scared?'

'Yes, I was scared. Satisfied?'

He chuckled and hugged her close.

'Ah, my Maggie, you're getting to know me so well! How
could I not love you?'

Maggie closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar, warm
smell of him which mingled with the richness of the leather.
Less than an hour ago she had hated him with a strength
that had shocked her. Yet there was no doubt in her mind
now that she loved him. No matter what he asked her to do,
no matter how much her mind was repulsed, her traitorous
body would respond. Would do anything for him.

Maggie awoke to find sunlight streaming through the window.
She stretched luxuriously, watching the way the sunbeams
cast dappled patterns across her skin as it fought its way
through the lace half curtain.

On the bedside table there was a tray laid with soft rolls
and honey and a covered glass of fresh orange juice. Maggie
drank the juice and spread one of the rolls with sweet, sticky
honey.

She felt lazy, her limbs heavy with sleep, so she put the plate
aside and slipped back down under the covers, closing her eyes.
There was no clock in the bedroom, but then, it didn't matter
what time it was. Today, Alexander had told her last night, she
was to relax and gather her strength for the night to come.

Maggie chose to turn her mind away from what the night
had in store. Alex had explained everything while he bathed
her when they arrived back from the café. She had lain back
in the oily, scented water and allowed the regular strokes of
the soapy sponge to soothe her. Alexander's voice had been
soft, almost hypnotic.

'You'll be on a raised stage, softly lit. There'll be a fur-covered
platform, like a bed. The audience will be in darkness, you
won't be able to see anyone. But
you
will be seen. Hidden
cameras will film your every shiver and transfer the image
onto two large projector screens. There'll be three men. Antony,
Bruno and myself. You'll accept all three of us into your body,
all at the same time—'

Maggie squeezed her eyes tightly shut and burrowed deeper
into the pillow. She wasn't sure whether the tense, cold feeling
she had in her stomach was due to fear or excitement. Alexander
had told her to rest, so she concentrated on relaxing each
limb in turn until she began to drift back into sleep.

Some time later she was woken by Antony's hand on her
shoulder.

'Time for your work-out,' he told her and, ignoring her sleepy
scowl, he pulled back the bed covers.

'Hey! I'm still tired!'

'Have a cold shower, then. I'll squeeze some more juice for
you while you dress.'

Maggie hauled herself reluctantly out of the bed and
headed for the
en suite
bathroom. Her eyes were still half
closed as she fumbled for the shower taps and began to run
the water. As she stepped under the lukewarm spray, she
realised that she had followed Antony's instructions without
question.

It confused her, this gradual slipping away of her own will
and sense of purpose. She had always been a fiercely independent
woman, determined to make her own way in life and
absolutely against any man telling her what to do. Yet here
she was, caught in Alexander's thrall, willing to dance to whatever
tune he, or Antony, cared to play.

She stepped out from under the shower and towelled herself
vigorously. What was the point of endless self-analysis? The
truth was that she would welcome the humiliation to come,
even while she dreaded it.

In the gym she worked with a single mindedness which
precluded all thought. Her workaday grey cotton leotard stuck
damply to her back and breasts as she pumped up and down,
working her stomach muscles until they began to groan. On
each machine, she pushed herself to the limit, reaching out
for that plateau of pain which always precluded the rush of
adrenalin, the exercise 'high' for which she strove.

Under the shower again, a hot one this time, Maggie was
aware of every muscle and sinew. Her skin tingled under the
sharp needles of spray, each inch of her aching pleasurably.

Alexander was waiting for her in the massage room. He
smiled enigmatically at her and smoothed a pristine white
towel on the couch. Maggie shed her robe unselfconsciously
and spread herself, face down, on the bed. She sighed at the
first touch of his fingers against her heated skin.

As always, Alexander's clever hands knew just the right
amount of pressure to apply. Slick with oil, they smoothed and
soothed the overworked muscles in her neck, shoulders and
back until they relaxed and stopped aching. Maggie had fallen
into a comfortable half-sleep when he began to work his way
down her arms, to her hands. Each finger joint was manipulated
in turn, the backs of her hands stroked and caressed so
that the skin buzzed after he had left it.

Down the backs of her legs he went, kneading and squeezing,
to her feet where he massaged the soles by thumb with firm,
circular strokes. Even her toes were tingling when he had
finished. Maggie made to roll over, onto her back, but Alexander
stopped her by placing the flat of his hand against the small
of her back.

Maggie turned her head and watched him drowsily as he
went over to the locked cabinet in the corner and took out a
key. She had never seen inside the cabinet before. When the
double doors swung back, her eyes widened in shock. It was
full to capacity with row upon row of bottles and jars, but it
was the top row that kept Maggie's eyes rivetted.

Dozens of dildoes, neatly placed in size order, were ranged
across the top shelf. From a tiny, finger-thin instrument on
the left through every shape, colour and texture imaginable
to the longest, thickest vibrator Maggie had ever seen on the
far right.

Alexander glanced over his shoulder at her and smiled wickedly,
his hand strayed towards the monstrosity on which her
eyes were fixed. Turning his attention to the contents of the
cupboard, he ran his hand along to the left, as if deliberating.
Finally, he selected a slim, plain white object, about five inches
long with a narrow, rubber collar around its base. Picking up
a tube of lubricating cream, he relocked the cupboard and
returned to the couch.

Maggie's breath hurt in her chest. The lovely, soporific mood
of relaxation the massage had induced in her had all but
disappeared, chased away by a churning apprehension. Now
her mouth felt dry, her throat parched. Yet she did not move,
merely lying, acquiescent, meekly waiting for whatever
humiliation he chose to impose upon her.

He didn't speak to her at all, merely easing a soft, towelling
covered cushion under her stomach, so that her bottom was
raised up slightly. Gently, he parted her thighs so that the pink,
tight rose of her anus was presented to him. Maggie squeezed
her eyes tightly closed, anticipating the violation of this, her
most private of places.

So when his newly oiled palms travelled again up the length
of her spine, Maggie sagged with relief. This time he concentrated
on the small of her back, the effect of his fingers
penetrating deeply into the muscles, relieving all her aches and
pains. She sighed, stretching from her toes, up through her
calves to her thighs.

Curiously, the angle at which Alexander had tilted her pelvis
made the sensual impact of the massage more intense. She
could feel the effects deep in her stomach, as if the movement
he was creating on the surface of her skin were travelling in
little ripples right through her body.

She realised, suddenly, that she was aroused. Merely by the
touch of his fingers on her lower back, she had grown wet, her
sex-lips swelling and parting in delicious anticipation. He must
have been able to see her shorn labia protruding between her
buttocks, glistening now with the evidence of her desire.

She moaned softly as he turned his attention to her raised,
upturned buttocks, kneading and shaping them, spreading her
cheeks further apart before pressing them together again, then
repeating the process. Shamelessly, she hollowed her back and
thrust her bottom higher, urging him silently to delve into her
aching cleft.

The first touch of his fingers against her tender inner skin
sent little shockwaves zipping down the insides of her thighs
and curling round her belly. His breath was warm as he kissed
the tender place behind her ear and trailed his cool lips round
to the nape of her neck. She shivered as he found the sensitive
spot at the base of her skull at the same time as his seeking
fingers reached the hardening bud beneath its sheltering
hood.

Maggie's buttocks writhed with a will of their own as he
stroked the eager nub with the tip of one finger. His touch was
featherlight, unbearably so, and she tried to grind herself down
on him to bring about her release. He laughed softly in her ear
and maintained that frustrating, ticklish pressure until she
was panting softly, on the edge of orgasm.

She groaned, almost crying as he moved his attention
upwards, past the slippery gateway of her womanhood,
smearing her warm honey up along the crease between her
buttocks. He circled the tip of his finger around her reluctant
sphincter, working in her feminine juices so that she felt hot
and slick with moisture.

Trying unsuccessfully to obtain release by rubbing herself
against the towelling, Maggie welcomed the intrusion of his
finger as he slowly slipped it inside her anus. The friction he
caused as he worked it in could be felt in the deeper recesses
of her vagina and Maggie found herself opening up wider,
inviting him deeper into her body.

She could have wept when he suddenly withdrew, leaving
her feeling curiously empty. There was a sudden, cold sensation
between her buttocks and she realised he had applied a
generous amount of lubricating cream to her crease. He rubbed
it carefully into her skin, working it into her tight little hole,
stuffing her with it. She gasped as she felt the hard, plastic tip
of the dildo push against her forbidden orifice, crying out as
it slipped inside her.

Alexander ignored her shocked exclamation, working it in
deeper and deeper until she felt the rubber collar at its base
against her heated skin. Maggie felt stretched. She bit her lip
as Alexander helped her into a sitting position and the object
moved inside her.

'Supposing it goes right in?' she asked in sudden panic.

'It can't,' he assured her calmly, 'don't worry. Besides, tonight
it will be removed and replaced by the real thing. Would you
like to see how pretty you look?'

He brought her a mirror and made her spread her legs so
that her swollen, unsatisfied vulva came into view. The collar
of the dildo was clearly visible between her bottom cheeks.
Maggie was shocked to realise that he was right, though 'pretty'
was not the word she would have used. 'Lewd' was probably
more accurate.

She had a sudden, urgent desire to relieve the burning ache
which had been building between her legs. She turned her
eyes to him, pleadingly. He raised his eyebrows at her.

'Please . . .?' she whispered.

He smiled.

'Yes, Maggie, you may come now.'

She found her clitoris with her middle finger and pressed it
firmly. Alexander held her as she rubbed it back and forth
and, within seconds, she climaxed. She threw back her head and
cried out as she was overcome and Alexander kissed her hair.
Afterwards, he helped her dress, handling her with infinite
tenderness.

A few minutes later she arrived in the apartment to find
Antony about to serve lunch. He glanced approvingly at the
tight jeans which moulded her buttocks and the soft curve of
her pubis.

'Comfortable?' he asked as she sat down and she blushed.

Of course, he would know what had happened. Alexander
told him everything. The dildo lodged in her anus was a
constant reminder of the evening to come as she ate fresh
tagliatelle and creamy sauce, washing it down with mineral
water.

'No wine for you,' Antony told her sympathetically as he
had poured a glass for himself. 'Alex wants all your faculties
intact tonight. Wine would only blunt your perceptions.'

Maggie nodded dutifully, hiding a shiver. Perceptions of
what? Pain? Degradation? Or merely the demonstration of the
absolute power these two charismatic men now held over
her?

The costume she was to wear for the night's performance was
sheer kitsch, surely chosen specifically to heighten her sense
of having been brought low. Maggie fingered the miniscule
black leather brassiere gingerly. It was lined with the softest
fur and was designed to emphasise her assets rather than cover
them. Her soft, brown-tipped breasts were gathered up by it,
spilling over the top in wanton abandonment.

It seemed she was to wear nothing else but a pair of thigh-high,
black leather boots with impossibly high heels. As she
pulled them on she noted the way the soft, supple hide caressed
her shapely calves and moulded the slender length of her
thighs. Her naked, shaven sex looked shockingly pink against
the stark black of the leather which reached almost to the join
of hip and thigh.

Turning around, Maggie saw that the deep cuffs at the top
of the boots were cut to a gentle curve so that they emphasised
the shape of the round, white globes of her bottom, showing
it off to perfection. If she stood with her feet slightly apart, she
could see the pink rim of the dildo embedded in her anus.

'Absolutely exquisite.'

She jumped as Antony's voice came from the doorway. She
hadn't heard him come into the bedroom and she faced him
now, her eyes widening in a mute plea.

'Hey! Come here.'

He hugged her to him, murmuring endearments against her
hair. Then he gently turned her round to face the mirror again.
Like her, he was dressed in leather. His black trousers clung
lovingly to his long, tightly muscled thighs and emphasised
the fullness at his crotch. The white silk shirt skimmed the
breadth of his shoulders and glowed against his tanned skin.

Reaching round from behind her, he gathered up her breasts
in their inadequate restraint and presented them to her mirror
image. As she watched, her nipples swelled and he stroked his
thumbs against the hard little buttons, making her shiver.

Stroking one hand down, over her softly quivering belly, he
caressed her hair-free mound. Maggie leaned against him as
he ran his fingers into the groove between her labia, teasing
out her inner lips so that they protruded slightly between her
legs. With his other hand, he caressed the crease of her bottom,
twisting the collar of the dildo so that it moved inside her,
sending pleasurable waves through to her erotic core.