The Collector (7 page)

Amy instantly obeyed, her own arousal also apparent. She knelt before Mark.
‘So, master and servant.’
Karen thought to herself, mentally tucking the information away for her report.
‘I think Karen may benefit from a show, I suspect she likes to watch more than join in.’
Despite the warmth of the room, Karen felt herself go cold. Was Mark right? If that was true, then why did she fail to react when she watched sex shows and other hot action for work?
‘Sit next to me, Karen.’ Mark patted the seat next to him on the sofa. ‘Amy, I would like you to lie down on the cushions please.’ He continued with his instructions as Amy gratefully sunk onto the floor. ‘Legs wide please, that’s right. Now Sam, I would like to see how you tongue a woman.’
Sam’s face coloured, but he swiftly knelt to his task and, probably enjoying his public display, began to slowly pass his tongue around Amy’s distended nub. Mark nodded approvingly. ‘You see,’ he said to Karen companionably. ‘Sam is using short neat touches, swirling around and around her clit without actually touching it. That way the tension builds up and, before long, Amy will be willing to do almost anything just to feel his tongue on her clit.’
She knew all this; she’d seen it a dozen times before. Men on women, women on women, yet, here, now, it felt different. It was all vaguely patronising and was certainly staged, but Karen was aware that she was willing the couple before her on. Karen’s breath caught as she waited to see if Amy would beg for more attention or if Mark would order a change in position first.
As Karen sat naked next to her instructor, watching Amy begin to writhe on the floor, Mark stretched out a hand and slid it between her legs. Karen felt her body judder as Mark began to copy Sam’s tongue movements with a single finger.
Without halting his own activity, Mark barked an order, his voice showing the first signs of personal strain. ‘Stop please Sam.’ Amy groaned as he moved his tongue away. ‘On all fours please Amy. Sam, take her from behind.’
Sam pounced on the young woman almost before she was in position. Karen jumped as Mark began to flick his finger against her nub, whilst her eyes were still fixed on the couple in front of her. He increased his pace and inserted a finger up inside her. He whispered into her ear. ‘You’re wet.’ Karen felt proud and surprised. ‘I think you’re enjoying the watching.’
Without looking at him, she replied, ‘I am enjoying the attention whilst I watch.’
Mark nodded, his face suddenly full of the need he’d been suppressing all night. ‘Would you like to touch her?’
Karen considered whilst she watched Amy’s breasts swinging beneath her body as Sam pumped himself into her. ‘Yes. I think I would.’
‘Then crawl beneath her and suck her tits.’
Karen surprised herself by the speed in which she moved, she was wet, she was turned on, and she was desperate to taste the firm globes that hung before her. Lying on her back on the floor, she wriggled under Amy and, without allowing herself time to think, planted her lips around Amy’s right nipple and a hand around her left, causing Mark’s assistant to howl out in bliss.
Karen hadn’t been playing with Amy’s chest for long, when she felt a tongue between her own legs. She moaned into her mouthful of flesh, unsure if it was Mark, or if Tony and Freya had joined them on the floor. She didn’t care. Heat rose within her as Amy finally shuddered out her release, and flopped down onto the luxury carpet.
There was barely a pause before Mark pulled Amy aside and climbed on top of Karen, filling her with his ready cock, smashing heavy kisses onto her face. Karen greedily kissed back, only vaguely aware that the others were watching.
As the first stirrings of an orgasm rushed through her legs into her chest and across her body, Karen opened her eyes and looked straight into the face of Freya, who dragged her away from Mark and began to nibble at her sensitive chest, making her cry out in long suppressed ecstasy.
The taxi ride home passed in a blur. Karen’s head spun. How was she ever going to write about that without bearing her own soul on the page? She could still feel Mark’s soft fingers against her flesh, Freya’s biting teeth against her nipples, and the wondrous flow of the climax that had shaken her long frigid body.
As the cab pulled up outside her home, Karen noticed that someone was waiting on her door step. It was Charles.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘You promised to call when it was over, it’s 2am. I wanted to make sure you were safe.’
Karen looked carefully at her boss. ‘I’m fine thanks. It was very interesting.’
‘Really?’ Charles eyes twinkled as he watched her nipples poke through her cashmere sweater. ‘How was Mark?’
‘He was…Oh God, you know him don’t you?’ Karen coloured as the penny dropped. He had set her up for more than the report.
Charles had the decency to look slightly abashed. ‘I hoped it would help you.’ He moved a little closer to her. ‘Would you like to share your experiences with me? I could help you work out what you’re going to write.’
Karen smiled despite her indignation at being tricked. Her thighs aching with renewed need. ‘I think that would be a good idea Charles. Come inside, I’ll tell you all about it.’

When the stories begin to run dry, or when I simply can’t think of an original way of saying ‘he stuck his dick up her pussy’, I call on Kit. That isn’t her real name of course, but she tells me it’ll serve her purpose for now.

As fake blonde Americans go, Kit has more savvy than the average contender, yet I still keep expecting to read about her untimely death in the paper. This girl likes to sail so close to the sun that she’d give Icarus nightmares.

We met at a strip club where I was doing some research. Kit had been sat, perfectly turned out, at the bar talking to the owner. Her body language screamed professional. She was obviously working but I was intrigued about her life and asked if I could buy her a drink. I was honest with her, always the best course of action when dealing with escorts, and explained what sort of stories I collected and what sort of research material I was after.

She couldn’t actually remember how she’d got there. Heat reflected off her neck as she lifted her heavy head from the damp street. It couldn’t be morning already.

Her throat burned. Tequila. What a fucking stupid drink. Her tongue was stuck to her mouth; hair straggled across her face. She looked like a drugged up hooker. All she needed now was a cop car to turn up and life would be complete.

Rising slowly on her shaky legs, she brushed her grit covered palms across her ripped white skirt. Grasping the nearest wall Kit held her breath, swallowing down the bile that was building in her throat.

The world swam for a while before she took in the small row of boarded up or battered shops across the street. Kit spat into the gutter to try and escape the bad taste in her mouth. ‘Jackshit Town’, Kit groaned as her headache seeped through her whole body. Surely it had all been a bad dream? She rolled up her sleeves. Not a dream then. The thick bruises that adorned each wrist had already turned purple, and, judging by their yellow edges, would be multicoloured before too long.

‘Perhaps you’ll pay your debts from now on.’ The voice growled rather than spoke. He held out his hand. Kit shuddered and turned away.

‘Don’t be a fool girl. You are in no fit state to go anywhere.’ He towered over her, his own clothes as filthy as hers. ‘I’ll hold you up. Come on, you need coffee.’

Kit began to tug against his grip. She knew exactly how he’d got so dirty, and struggled to get free as he hooked a giant hand under her armpit and propelled her towards the joke of a café at the end of the street. ‘Let go you bastard. Just let go!!’

She crumpled and hit the deck. ‘Do I prove my point?’
‘Whatever.’ Kit wasn’t even sure why she cared. After all, surely
the worst had happened. She’d worked off her debt. After surviving
that she wasn’t sure why the hell she was worried about being taken
for coffee. He was alone; that in itself was an improvement on last
night.
As she sat down on the cracked plastic chair she watched him
order two black coffees and an extra espresso. The shadeless light
cast a feeble beam around the room. Kit’s fingers landed in one of
the various sticky patches on the table. Gross. She knew she needed
to eat soon, but she was damn sure she couldn’t bring herself to eat
here.
‘You enjoyed last night, didn’t you.’ He spoke as though it was
an undeniable fact.
‘What!’ She spat the word. ‘I had no fuckin’ choice did I!’ ‘You could’ve paid Mickey.’
‘With what exactly?’
He stared at her. Her roots were beginning to show, she wasn’t
as blonde as she pretended to be, and the clothes she wore weren’t
quite designer. ‘
Knock- offs
,’ he thought.
‘You should turn tricks.’ His eyes were looking beyond her
clothes now. She felt as though she was being x-rayed.
‘I didn’t enjoy it.’ Kit realised she sounded sulky, like a spoilt
teenager. ‘I had no choice, not if I wanted to stay alive.’ They sat in silence. Kit downed her espresso after a few
mouthfuls of her accompanying Americano. It felt bitter, and she
had to gag to stop herself throwing it back up again.
‘You enjoyed it.’ It was said as a final statement. This time she
didn’t argue.
Kit looked at her companion more carefully. Not her usual type,
but then her usual type always screwed her over in the end. This guy
had screwed her over already, or at least his mate had; he’d simply
joined in. ‘I’m hungry, where can I get cheap food?’
‘Here?’ He gestured to the smudged blackboard declaring fat
with everything.
‘Not here.’
‘Okay, but there isn’t anywhere else. You are coming home with
me.’ He pulled his bulky frame out of the sticky plastic seat and
walked to the door. She followed. Why not?
His flat was not as bare as she would have thought it might have
been, but what amazed her most was how clean and tidy it was. He
smiled at her obvious surprise. ‘You expected a re-run of that
craphole we just had coffee in perhaps?’
‘Yes. You don’t give the impression of being house-proud.’ Kit
regarded his unkempt appearance and tried to square it with the
men from last night; but last night, she had to admit, was very much
a jumble of sounds, faces and discomfort. Kit couldn’t honestly have
said what part he’d played.
She had owed rent to the guy that owned the dump she lived in.
The dump she existed in would be a better description. He’d warned
her, but still she hadn’t been able to get enough money together. So
he’d told her she had to pay another way, before he “dealt with the
situation.” Kit knew his reputation and seriously did not want to
know what that meant, so she’d done as he instructed and walked
into town.
Sat at the bar smashing back Tequila shots, she’d guessed what
would happen next; but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the fact until
it actually did, just in case, by some miracle her landlord had
developed a hitherto unseen nice side. No chance.
He’d had a sickeningly false smile when he finally came in. ‘This
way.’ He picked her up by the elbow and propelled her into the pool
room. There were at least six guys around the edge of the poorly lit
table, maybe more. They looked at her with pure greed. ‘
You knew
this would happen
.’ She spoke to herself as she was shoved onto the
table. ‘
You can take it
.’
‘There’ll be no need for restraints,’ her landlord addressed the
room, ‘as she is not so stupid as to try an escape. However, I like
restraints, so she’s gonna have them anyway.’ Kit shivered as the
men cheered, grabbing her wrists and binding them to the pool table
with rope. Her stomach leapt, was she going to throw? No, she was
damn sure she wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
Her white skirt and knickers were ripped from her. Kit heard
someone gob onto their hands, and felt the bile rise again as the
contents was smeared between her legs. The spit felt warm against
her shaking body. Stubby fingers pushed roughly against her. He
laughed whoever he was. ‘She’s wet, the little bitch is turned on.’ The men roared around her, as zippers unleashed their contents.
When the first cock skewered her cunt she screamed, more in relief
that they’d started than pain. The sooner it began, the sooner it
would end. ‘Silence her!’ the landlord had yelled, as a thick set man
sat across Kit’s chest, his hands kneading her tits whilst he pumped
his dick between her lips, almost crushing the breath from her body. Kit lost count of how many cocks she’d sucked; of how many
men had spunked their load inside her. Life became a whirl of dicks, sweat and grunts until, suddenly, they stopped. The abrupt silence was almost eerie as they quietly stepped away. She could feel her breath thudding in her ears. Her arms were still stretched to capacity, and every inch of her ached from being moulded into any
position they’d desired.
‘More Tequila?’ The landlord dribbled the sharp liquid over her
dry lips. She choked as it slipped down her throat. ‘You are very
wet.’ His hands began to stroke her hammered cunt. ‘What do you
think?’ He turned back to the gang who’d just banged his tenant.
‘Shall we let her come?’
They jeered their consent, and bets were quickly taken as to how
long she’d last. The landlord grasped her arse and hoisted it up as
high as the restraints allowed. Then, with one long slow lick from
his disgusting mouth he sent her shuddering against the table. Kit no
longer cared about their chants of success as she shook with
satisfaction. She’d survived.
He put a plate of cheese on toast in front of her with a large
glass of ice-cold water. She smiled gratefully and took a mouthful. It
was delicious; she felt like she hadn’t eaten for weeks. He watched
her chew in silence. She noticed that he hadn’t made anything for
himself. She couldn’t work out why he was doing this for her. Surely
not guilt?
‘Last night?’ she said as she pushed the crumby plate away. ‘Yes?’
‘Which one were you?’ She looked into her remaining water. ‘It
was a bit of a blur.’
He took her glass away and looked at her dark eyes. ‘Does it
matter?’
‘I think it does.’ She gestured around the room. ‘I wouldn’t have
said that any of the pack of wolves that fell on me last night would
live in anything other than self-inflicted squalor, except Mickey of
course who probably has servants. I’m damn sure they would’ve seen
me in the gutter and left me there. They would probably just have
laughed, not offered me coffee.’
‘You may be right.’ He came around the table and picked up
her left arm and examined her wrists. ‘These are bad, come with me.’ The small bathroom to which he led her had a musty smell, as if
the shower had been used frequently, but no allowance had been
made for the resulting damp air to escape, forcing it to cling to the
grey tiles like perspiration.
He collected a tube of arnica from a high shelf. ‘Put your wrists
out.’ Kit obeyed and felt the warmth of his hands as the cream
soothed her bruises which, on closer examination, seemed to have
been very close to having full blown rope burns appearing on top of
them.
‘You want a shower?’
‘What? Oh, thanks, but I should go.’ Kit felt uneasy, something
in her stirred. The sudden realisation that she was attracted to this
guy was worrying. How could she be, after what he and his mates
had put her through? Maybe she was just grateful and was on
automatic, maybe she just felt she should offer him some kind of
reward; sex usually covered it. Yet Kit instinctively felt that he would
be insulted if he knew that was how she felt.
‘It won’t hurt to have a shower. You look done in, not to
mention grubby. I’ll leave you to it then.’
‘You’re dirty too.’
‘True. I’ll have one afterwards.’ He passed her a large soft bath
towel, pressed the shower’s on button and walked out, closing the
door behind him.
As she peeled off her skirt and blouse, reflecting on her lost
knickers, Kit couldn’t help thinking about what he’d said. Had she
enjoyed it? The thought was not a comfortable one. The water began
to bounce off her shoulders, neck and hair. She always had liked it
rough, she was honest enough to admit that to herself, and being
bound was hardly new, but last night? It had been brutal. Kit closed her eyes as the water burned through her, and tried to
sort out the sequence of events that had taken place. The calloused
hands, the sickly smell of come and sweat, the grime of the room,
the scratch of the baize against her back and the strain in her arms.
Despite herself, Kit felt her nipples hardening; all those hands. Sure
she’d been scared stiff, but while she wasn’t convinced she’d actually enjoyed it, Kit knew in her heart that she hadn’t hated it either.
Maybe she did belong in the gutter.
She began to dry herself on the clean, if slightly discoloured,
towel. Her clothes looked even more uninviting now that her body
was clean. Kit dropped the towel and looked at herself in the mirror
that stretched across one wall. There were bruises forming across her
thighs now, and from the way her arse ached she guessed more were
on the way.
Her hands began to trace the line of her areoles, and she sighed
quietly as she watched the nipples of her reflection spring to life. She
lightly brushed her hands over them, sending small quivers down
through her body to her naked snatch. Closing her eyes Kit
remembered how good it had felt to have his chunky fingers rub
cream into her wounds. He had been unexpectedly tender. The heat of the shower had begun to dissipate and she shivered
as her wet hair dripped down her back. Kit wrapped the towel
around her body and began to rub herself vigorously.
She was so engrossed in drying her legs that the knock on the
door startled her. ‘Are you okay in there?’
‘I’m just drying, you can come in’ She pulled the towel tighter
around her.
‘I’ll wait till you’re dressed.’
‘My clothes are damp and ruined. I’m wearing a towel, so you
can come in.’
‘I’ll wait.’ His voice had developed an edge to it, but she carried
on recklessly.
‘You’ve already seen me in a far worse state for God’s sake.
Come in.’
‘I’m not a fucking saint woman!’ He yelled at the door. ‘Neither am I, so get your arse in here.’ Kit wasn’t sure how she
had come to that decision, but she knew she was as horny as hell and
he was there. The mere thought of shagging him and possibly being
able to work out which one he’d been in the melee of arms and
cocks last night was too good an opportunity to pass up. The haste with which he came through the door made her
smile. Kit found her towel wrenched away and his thick hands encasing her breasts before she’d even drawn breath. ‘Are you sure?’ His voice was husky and a glance at his trousers told her exactly what
he wanted to do right now.
‘I’m sure,’ she whispered up into her ear, before nipping it
between her teeth.
He roared and pushed her into the mirror, squashing her tits
against the steamed up glass. He poked a finger up her ass, which
sucked back at him greedily. His groan of lust as he realised that she
was up for an arse fucking made Kit weak at the knees.
So much had happened to her battered body in the last twentyfour hours, she suddenly wasn’t sure if she had the strength to give as
good as she got, but her clit already felt slick and the familiar need
was welling up inside her stomach.
‘There’s no fuckin’ room in here.’ He picked her up under one
arm and carried her to his bed. Throwing her down, he positioned
her so that her bruised and rounded arse pointed into the air. Standing in front of her face he released his cock, and teased it
against her parted lips, before letting her engulf him in her mouth.
After a few seconds, he pulled out, leaving her wanting and empty,
but giving him enough of her spit to lubricate his dick.
He knelt behind her and kissed the pulsating rim of her bum
hole, then, with only a second’s hesitation, he drove his cock
between her cheeks. Kit screamed as his thick shaft ripped her skin
in its need for more room. He showed no concern. He was up her
arse channel and that was all that mattered. As he jerked himself off,
finally creaming inside her, he cried out with pent up desire. Once he’d pulled out of her panting, tear stained body, he knelt
again and, pulling a handkerchief out of a draw, he dabbed Kit’s
wounded arse. Then, with contrasting tenderness, he turned her over
and slowly, carefully, licked her wet pussy until her cries of pain
became whimpers of satisfaction.
He cradled Kit in his arms. ‘So, did you like that?’
‘I did.’ She met his gaze without shame.
‘I knew you would. I couldn’t believe that a woman who could
willingly endure last night couldn’t take me too.’
‘You mean, I didn’t have you last night?’
He smiled, ‘I think you should lay off the Tequila love. I’m just
the bloody barman; and I still think you should turn tricks.’