A Letter from a Friend Ch. 03byexiledmaster©
I think I'd forgotten how the bank works. I started back at nine am this morning, and for the last two hours I've been sat in an office with paper work. Rejoiners forms, staff details forms, mortgage code board forms, FSA clearance forms…
It's enough to make you despair. Granted I've got access to email from work, but I'm not sure you or me will want the sort of stuff I tell you on a works email… So I'll save this in word and email it to you later
After the forms there was the ‘let's order a uniform for you' nonsense. I don't want to wear a uniform. Customers don't want their financial advisor in a uniform either. They want to speak to their bank manager, not a superior air hostess in something that looks like it came off a rack in Asda. I'll gladly buy my own suits (I'm wearing one I bought in Monsoon today… but more of how I'm dressed later…)
I'm glad we talked on the phone Friday… I wanted it to be a more intimate conversation but of course we both had other things to do, and we managed to at least find some common ground. I didn't set out to tell you this stuff to turn you on; it just happened that way. I'm an exhibitionist, I've realised. Telling the story is a turn on in itself. But I've loved you as a friend since we were kids, and turning you on, (as opposed to turning just about anyone on) is a good thing too… I'm trying not to get turned on telling you what's happened this weekend, but I bet it happens…
Anyway, Friday. I was at the metro centre car park when I called you. My excuse to be there was to buy some outfits to wear to work for the four weeks I'll be without a uniform. Kate decided she was going to come shopping with me; she treats me like a sex object when she wants to, but she's a fun friend too… I'd love you to meet her, and I know you'll suspect she wants to get into your knickers, but you can always just say no… I know I'm not a good advocate for that, since I can't say no at the moment, but maybe that's because Kate has such a good grip on the kind of things I want… It could be a discussion on Trisha or Jerry Springer – submissive sex sluts are discovered, not made….
Did I say submissive sex sluts? Well, I'll let you form your own opinion. Shopping with Kate again. I seem to meet her at the metro centre regularly. She likes clothes, and she likes the impression they give. I like her choices for me. I'm starting to sound infatuated aren't I? I don't think I care…
Anyway, we wandered round the Metro centre, and I bought some suits in Ann Harvey and Monsoon, and we talked about shoes,(more shoes!!!!!) and how high my heels should be. Kate's a power dresser; her shoes ooze sex appeal and control. We even had a political argument about it - I'm not sure about the argument about heels and women's role makes sense anyway, but Kate had her own distinctive spin on it. She made it sound like walking a tightrope; look at what I can do in the name of being sexy while going about my everyday life….
Anyway, we ended up another pair of shoes from House of Fraser that just ooze sex; four inch heels, a tiny band across the foot, an ankle band and an attitude that made me wet just trying them on…. No, I'm not a foot fetishist… I just have this association of shoes with glamour and wickedness that won't go away. Too many B movies when I was a kid I reckon…
You already know I'd made plans for the evening and all of Saturday. Or rather, that I wasn't going to be at home because of plans someone had for me. We went back to Kate's house and I got ready. A shower, shave off my pubes, (not that they grow back that fast if you keep shaving them…) clean my teeth, style my hair (I'm thinking of growing it long again, by the way) then get dressed for the evening. I hated the whole process. Not because I don't like getting ready, but because Kate didn't touch me once. Didn't shower with me, didn't brush my hair, nothing. I discovered that her indifference was deliberate, part of the scene setting.
She'd laid out my outfit for the night on the bed. The new fuck me shoes, a pair of black hold up stockings, a leather belt…
And that was it. The belt was, ummm, unusual. Leather, about two and a half inches wide, with a buckle on the front that was mainly ornamental; adjustment of the fit was done at the back, with leather thongs through eyelets, like a miniature corset. I'd put my shoes and stockings on, and tottered a little on the heels as she pulled the thongs tight, cinching the belt tight against my waist. She was very conventionally dressed; s black dress, stockings and heels, and there was something uncomfortable, disconcerting, about the feel of the dress's material against my back as she checked the fit of the belt.
Maybe it was disconcerting because my mind was doing overtime; what did she have planned for me? A night at a club like the night I met her? A night in with her and her husband? I already knew they played kinkier games than they'd played with me; my mind was working overtime and so were the glands that produce lubricant for my pussy. I'm sure she knew what I was going through, and kept me waiting deliberately.
Eventually she handed me a PVC coat; short, with a belt around the middle. I put it on, just about covering my stocking tops. And she spoke. AT last; I was so bloody grateful I wanted to kiss her just for speaking.
"We know you like multiple cocks Bea. I've seen that for myself. We know you like doing what you're told… So tonight we're going to test you out on both. Don't worry, it'ss indoors, and you'll be anonymous. Just enjoy, and if it stops being fun, just say the word Mugabe."
"Mugabe? Why Mugabe?"
"Can you think of a less sexy word, or a word less likely to be associated with sex?"
With that she led me out to her sports car; she had a brown leather bag with her, like the one her husband uses to carry his law books and wigs to court. I was so glad she lives in the country Sue - I was so conscious of the coat coming open with each step, and of the fresh air on my naked pussy. And I was so conscious of what she'd said; I was to be anonymous, but used by more than one man? By the time she'd driven down the A69 and onto the A1 I was soaked.
We didn't have far to go; just to one of those travel lodge places just north of Newcastle. Her husband was waiting in the car park with the room key, and led us up to the room.
I'm not going to regale you with lots of details of the room; I didn't see that much of it. There were two double beds, and, between them but on the opposite wall to the bedheads, a wardrobe with no doors, just hangers on a metal rail. I don't want you to think I sleep walked into this Sue; as soon as I saw the beds I wondered if I was going to be tied to one of them, or what the arrangements would be. Not worried, or fretted, or panicked, but wondered. Wide eyed, sexy, born again adolescent wonder. And magically, sexily, they managed to surprise me.
Once I'd shed the coat I stood in the middle of the room while Kate put a silk hood on me. It covered my head completely; with narrow cut outs for my nostrils and my mouth. There was padding in the section that fitted over my eyes, so that no light was admitted. I had to stand until, guided by their hands, I was led to the mouth of the doorless wardrobe and patiently, efficiently, tied to the clothes rail. I didn't know what they used to tie me; it might have been some kind of rope, but the feel of it on my arms was soft, the knots no tighter then they needed to be, but firm, holding me with my arms outstretched to my sides and forward; if I wanted to I could close my hands around the clothes rail.
Something firmer than the ropes was fastened around my ankles; it was only when both ankles were fastened that I realised there some kind of bar between the fastenings, so that I couldn't close my legs…. As if I wanted to.
Kate took charge again, running her hands over me, testing the bonds at the same time as stimulating me.
"I like being whipped in this position you know. In a room a lot like this he tied me like this and whipped me while men sat in the chair and watched. All I knew of their being here was the pile of used tissues afterwards, and the scent of them…."
I know that I shuddered. I don't know if it was because I wanted her to squeeze my nipple harder, or because I wanted her to make me come, or because I wanted her to penetrate me, but she interpreted it as meaning I was scared.
"Don't be frightened. You're not here to be whipped tonight. You're here to be fucked, repeatedly. I'm going to put a plug in your arse, but that's less sexual than preventative. We don't know if you've ever been fucked there, but the men tonight aren't allowed to, and the plug will remind them of that while stretching you for him once they've finished with you."
Sue, I know it's impossible to fall off a cliff and hang in mid air, suspended, but that's what it felt like. The nose of the plug was blunt, and rubbery, and as she wiped it between my pussy lips I shook inside, with that acidic top of the stomach sugary taste in my throat that adrenalin and nervousness and excitement can bring.
I've never been buggered, although I'll confess to having explored the idea since I first started cybering with G., and to letting my finger stray once or twice, but this was different. I bent forward slightly as she pushed at me, and strained a little, like I'd read, but there's no explaining or describing the sensation. I think she must have known how close I was to coming; she smacked my backside once, affectionately, as if she was just playing, but my mind was completely overwhelmed.
It was so odd Sue; the time I got gangbanged in the club I felt as if I couldn't take any more by the time they'd finished with me… This time, god help me, I felt like I could have gone on all night. Five men, Kate told me afterwards, but two of them came back for seconds. I loved it when she said that; two of them came back for seconds.
Actually Sue, I should qualify that. Five men in my pusssy. Condom covered men, who splattered the backs of my legs, my backside, my thighs, even my feet with their come. Kate had them organised; condom on, a handful of KY, fuck me good and hard, ignore the gagging gasping noises I was making, pull out when they were close then stand still as Kate tugged them to spurting, messy orgasms on me…
Then there was Kate's husband.
Should I give his name now?
I trust you Sue; god, I must trust you.
Jon. He's called Jon. Short for Jonathan.
I knew he was behind me straight away. He smells of Aramis, and plain soap, and somehow he manages to smell of cotton and starch and something I think of as manliness. I knew what he was going to do. I was soaking wet, and messy, and covered in come, and starting to ache, just my calves and ankles, but I knew he was going to take the plug out of my bum and fuck me there, and I wanted to beg him to get on with it.
And he did. No pre-lubrication, no foreplay, no warning. He just pulled the plug out, and suddenly he was at me, and it felt like I was trying to pass a big object, but in reverse, and then he was inside me. And then he almost wasn't, pulling out and then back at me again. Banging at me. No other words for it Sue, he was just banging me, and I felt so full, and so complete….
All he wanted was to fuck me; hard, as fast as I could cope, and uncaringly. And I was happy with that. I'd come five or six times while the other men were having me. I was turned on, and enjoying it, and enjoying the lack of any involvement or responsibility from me, but Kate wasn't going to allow that. The little bitch got under me and started licking my clit, and using her fingers on my pussy. Jon asked her what she was doing.
"I want to make her lose control. She's not going to just stand there and take it…"
She. Kate was calling me ‘she'.
Doesn't matter what she called me Sue. Kate was in charge, and I lost it, as she predicted. Crying, sobbing and begging him not stop, begging her to stop, gabbling and terrified I was losing control of my bladder I was so wet….
I'll finish this letter later Sue….. I think they've realised I'm pretending to take half an hour over this bloody form…