An Unwilling Submission

As she dismounted from the bench I was left to come to terms with the blazing, indistinct, pain which, even now, seemed to increase.

Mauve carefully stowed the mirror but made no move to release me. "Ladies, a glass of wine I think, then he should be ready for a little more..."

Chapter 4

When it was all over they went upstairs and left me to get changed. I was still raging but I knew how I was going to extract my revenge. Once they had gone I took photographs of the basement equipment, with its distinctive logo, and then I set wheels in motion.

Mauve's real name was Laura Denham and she was the marketing genius who had taken the small roster of virtual unknowns on the "Spiral of Sound" record label and turned them into a product for which all the big labels were clamouring.

One of her headline grabbing initiatives had been to suggest that the music industry was like Hollywood of old. She asserted that young artists, male and female, were having to offer sexual favours in order to advance their careers with the suggestion that "Spiral of Sound" would not stoop to such depths.

I approached the same editor who had paid for the Prideau material and settled on much the same terms. Nothing could be proved but the photographs of the basement with the "Spiral of Sound" logo prominent were open to interpretation. I smiled as I watched the TV coverage with the press pack camped outside her door eager for photographs of her 'dungeon'.

I banked my second large cheque and considered the irony of the rather large cash 'tip' that Denham, still masked, had pressed upon me as I left her house. I decided to treat Dominique but we ended up having our first major row.

I was so exhausted by the session with the three women that I avoided Dominique for a couple of days. Besides that, Vetris was out of the country and I had to spend a further three unscheduled and frustrated days in chastity. I was not too fussed about it as I had now achieved my object and, if necessary, I would suffer the embarrassment and pay someone to remove it.

Dominique finally turned up unannounced. She used the key that I had given her and caught me in the shower.

There was no hiding the marks on my legs. They were not as bad as I feared and they had now faded to a dull purple with only a hint of bruising. Dominique insisted on hearing the whole story and I gave her a much simplified version leaving out any reference to forced cunnilingus.

She seemed fascinated by the marks, running her fingers over them and asking me more about the women. She did not seem to understand my reluctance to talk about it and, worse still, she seemed aroused by it.

She wanted me to go down on her and I refused which resulted in her storming out.

To begin with I thought 'to hell with her' and turned my mind to the setting up of my own magazine, I even contemplated making Don an offer to buy him out, but more and more over the preceding days I had thought about running a publication with Dominique at my side. Apart from anything else she seemed to have a knack of opening doors.

I tried to call her but to no avail and she was very much on my mind as I set out for a remote industrial estate north of the river. 'Typecast' were an up and coming indie band and Dominique had swung it for me to look in on the shoot for their new promotional video.

The band had developed a reputation for producing what they called 'edgy' videos which, to me, read 'raunchy' and the new shoot was a hot ticket.

If I'm honest I was not a great fan. I thought their sound owed a huge debt to Tom Verlaine's band 'Television' and a very inferior copy at that. The new single 'Ambiguity' was one of their better efforts. They had admitted their own shortcomings and used a lyricist. The song was better crafted than any of their previous offerings and dealt with a man's fear that his girlfriend was betraying him with another woman.

Taking an artistic liberty the director was interpreting this by having a princess being ministered by two hand maidens. The set was dressed as an Arthurian castle and the girls cavorted on a four poster with diaphanous gowns which were going to have to be shot very carefully if the video was going to achieve certification.

As the session wore on the band were plying the girls with white wine and they were becoming less and less inhibited. Dominique, when she set it up, was not to know that I would still be locked up but the girl's antics were putting a painful strain on me.

Having heard the song a dozen or more times I was thinking about calling it a day when I realized that there was another story here.

The girls were being chaperoned by three women who, I assumed, were their mothers. They sat on the sidelines, enjoying the wine that was on offer, and seemed completely unfazed by the fact that their daughters were engaged in acts that fell just short of outright pornography.

I was intrigued by their attitude and presumed that their ambitions for their daughters had completely skewed their moral compass.

They were not very old themselves, none of them looked over forty, but they appeared hard edged. Two of them would have been worth a second look in a certain light but the third was simply gross.

Ironically, her daughter, a light-skinned coloured girl, was the best looking of the three performers but the mother was darker hued and seriously overweight.

I was wondering how I might get myself close enough to overhear some of their conversation when two of them got up to use the rest rooms leaving the coloured woman alone.

Seeing where they were headed I cut across to get there in front of them. The film location company had provided a single, unisex, facility and I dashed in and claimed a cubicle.

They followed me in a moment later and their laughter suggested that they were a little the worse for wear. They proceeded to occupy adjacent cubicles and conversed loudly.

There was much hilarity as they described in lurid detail what they would both like to do to the bands lead singer and then they began to discuss another "cutie". It took a few seconds to appreciate that the "cutie" under discussion was me and a certain misplaced pride sent blood coursing south with painful results.

Whilst I continued to listen I carefully pulled down my jeans and pants to ease the pressure and it was at that moment that the cubicle door was flung open. "What the fuck is that?"

The coloured woman was standing there and it was hard to say which of us was more surprised. She filled the doorway making a hasty exit impossible and I decided to act indignant. "It's occupied, if you don't mind."

"Occupied my ass. Looks to me like you a snoopin' perv." My eyes dropped to the plateau of her bosom where she wore her security ID tag. "Marsha?...There's been a misunderstanding"

Before she could reply there was a fresh commotion as her two companions rushed to join her whilst still adjusting their clothing. "Are you staring at my tits?" This was from the bottle blonde. In fact, I was trying to see her tag, which revealed her name to be Gale, but she did have nice breasts and nipples which, at that moment, were standing remarkably proud.

"Look, move aside and I'll be out of your way..." "Hold on slick. Not so fast. Marsha asked you a question. What is that thing?" I was still trying to pull up my jeans and pants but only managed to bark my elbow on the wall. The redhead, completely unabashed, slid in beside me and reached down to my groin. Her name, which was now going to remain indelibly printed on my memory, was Janice.

"Is this supposed to make you bigger?" She tugged at the tube unceremoniously making me wince. Gale laughed. "No, its one of those things to stop him playing around...you must be a really naughty boy."

I was hemmed in by these crazed, brazen, women, and I was not sure how I was going to extricate myself without resorting to violence. "Look, shouldn't you get back out there and check on your daughters?" Janice gave a frightening laugh. "They're quite capable of looking after themselves. The boys have invited them on to a party afterwards and someone is going to get their brains fucked out."

I regard myself as a man of the world but her coarse candour shocked me. Gale, meanwhile, reached down and began to investigate the tube for herself. "Have you got the key?" I swatted her hand away. "No." "Pity, Jan and me took a shine to you. You could have had some of this." She took half a step back and lifted her skirt. She was not wearing panties and her hairless sex looked flushed suggesting that her fingers had not been idle whilst conversing with her friend.

Janice put her arm around my shoulders in a hideously intimate embrace and ran a single finger across my lips. "Perhaps he can still have some of it..."

I shook her off but Marsha caught me unawares. "Smile!" I made a desperate grab for her camera phone but she moved away with a nimbleness that her weight belied. "Enough is enough!" Anger added menace to my tone but they simply laughed. These women knew the harshness of the world and that, in me, they had someone who was hamstrung by a more moral upbringing.

Janice assumed the role of gang leader and moved to one side without allowing me room to bolt. "Gale, make yourself comfortable. Let's see what the boy can do."

As Gale manoeuvred on to the toilet seat, lifting her skirt as she did so, I exploded "You're crazy! Get the fuck out of my way!"

What happened next rocked me to the core. Without saying a word Janice raised her hand and slapped Gale soundly on the cheek. Gale barely flinched, a woman clearly used to casual violence, but she looked at her friend in surprise.

"The way Marsha and I saw it you followed our friend in here and you assaulted her. She has the marks to prove it." Gale, seeing the plan, began to smile. She touched her cheek which bore the livid imprint of Janice's hand.

"You're nuts. Nobody will believe that bullshit." Janice brought her face close to mine before spitting her reply. "She's hurt and you're the perv with the sex aid. Who do you think the police will believe?" "You can't be serious." "Try me. Get down on your knees and start licking or I'll scream blue murder."

My mind was working furiously. Rationally, I knew that I should simply walk away but who knew what they were capable of. Nothing in my suburban, middle class, upbringing could have prepared me for this.

What I did know for sure was that all of my career ambitions, and a possible future with Dominique, hung in the balance. Just the taint of something like this, proven or not, might be enough to derail my hopes and schemes. In the heat of the moment I simply did not see the irony of the situation given the events that I had put in train in the preceding days.

Disgusting as the prospect seemed I was going to have to cooperate.

Fortunately, the cubicle was spotlessly clean but that made it no more tolerable. In the cramped confines I slowly slid down as Janice hissed to Marsha. "Get the door."

Behind me I heard the bolt to the trailer door being shot and it occurred to me that, if I could only spin things out, someone would be bound to come along. This hope was dealt a blow, however, when the interminable song struck up again. It was reasonably certain that every male in the room was going to be riveted to the ongoing proceedings on set.

Nevertheless I procrastinated. I kissed Gale's pallid inner thighs and concentrated on the fine details as I tried to forget the fact that she was regally seated on a lavatory seat.

I noted the fine tracery of pale stretch marks and a few, tiny, stray hairs where she was imperfectly depilated. She also had a fading rash suggesting that she could be gentler with the razor.

She liked my soft technique, perhaps it was less forthright than she was accustomed to, but Janice was not so tolerant. She bent close to my ear and spoke sharply. "For fucks sake, lick her properly!"

There was no avoiding it and I braced myself to lick her sex. As I suspected she was already aroused but the familiar scent was masked by the citric astringency of a chemical toilet cleaner.

With nothing to lose I licked boldly to get it over with and her sex opened like an overripe fruit. The taste was strong and the suddenness of it took me by surprise. I must have flinched causing Janice to laugh. "You should be flattered. It was watching you posing out there that got her all hot and bothered. Now swallow it nicely and say thank you."

If she was setting out to provoke me she was succeeding but her remarks had even more of an effect on Gale. Her sex welled up and I felt the product dripping from my chin. Taking this as my cue I moved slightly and began to lash her clitoris with painfully learned proficiency.

"Oh yes!" She took hold of my head in both hands to keep my mouth just so and then her body started to shake.

Somewhere behind me I thought I heard a knock but Marsha simply bellowed. "Fuck off! Come back later!"

The explosive invective startled Gale but she recovered quickly and pulled me to her even more tightly. As her orgasm burst upon her she closed her knees painfully to the sides of my head in fear that I might come up short.

I reality I could not move. I was penned in by three bodies, all radiating heat, and I had to fight down a growing panic. When she reluctantly opened her legs once more I found myself gasping for breath.

"Move yourself, there's a queue here." Janice nudged Gale unceremoniously and she stepped on the back of my calf as she got up and tried to adjust her clothing.

There was an inevitability that Janice would want to take her turn but I had refused to admit it to myself. Now I was faced with the ghastly reality. She hurriedly divested herself of a well worn pair of panties and took Gale's place.

"My husband gets plenty of practise at this...I expect you to do better." My immediate thought was that she had nicer legs than her friend but that was wiped out by the image of her sex.

She had the most pronounced labia I had ever seen. They were gray-blue with pink fringes and put me in mind of an exotic anemone. This was reinforced as she opened her legs wide and the enjoined wings reluctantly parted.

So strong was the feeling that they were imbued with a life of their own that I had to close my eyes in order to bring myself to serve her.

As I brushed my tongue along the very tips I found them cooler than I might have expected but they hinted at her taste. I tried to work a little deeper but they seemed formless, teasing away from my efforts.

After a moment or two she grew impatient. "Christ! Have you ever had a girlfriend?" She parted herself with her fingers drawing the folds of flesh aside like a pink veil. The walls were rimed with moisture, beckoning my eyes to the deep set entrance, and my tongue flexed of its own volition.

"Good boy, you've got the idea." I licked at the succulent pink flesh stretched between her fingers and slowly moved inwards until the tip of my tongue found its way to the mouth of the cave. I inscribed a circle and felt a slow relaxation as she readied herself for the inevitable invasion.

I waited just a little before I applied the steady pressure which allowed my tongue to slip, full length, inside her. As I was squeezed in welcome, and felt the raw heat at her core, I realized, with astonishment, that, just for a moment or two, I had lost myself.

For the space of a few heartbeats I had forgotten that I was being coerced and had focussed, with a frightening intensity, on the strange allure of her sex.

I was so shaken by this revelation that I stopped altogether for a second or two. Since Dominique came up with her idea I recognized that I had been physically taken advantage of in a number of ways but now I wondered if my sub-conscious was being affected.

Janice took hold of my ears and shook my head none too gently. "Don't fall asleep on me." This simple but painful reminder was enough to reinforce my loathing of her and I started again with a renewed ill will.

She was still laying herself open to me and I tried to finish her off quickly. Her labia came together to form the roof of a fleshy arch which concealed her clitoris from view. I began to probe for it with my tongue but it proved unnecessary. She was sensitive across the whole of the conjunction and she began to swear under her breath. "Just there, fuck you...harder you bastard."

She lifted her legs and planted her feet on either side of the door frame at a level with my shoulders. Having braced herself she began to thrust with her hips. It was not easy to stay with her but she seemed beyond caring as she worked her pelvis with an almost masculine vigour.

I could not tell exactly when she began to climax but an increasing stream of expletives helped me to gauge her progress. At its height she pushed me down a little away from her clitoris. "Eat me!"

I closed my mouth around her as best I could and almost choked from the resulting inundation. Her muscles pulsed strongly producing warm gouts of moisture which ran thickly down the back of my throat.

She got up, without ceremony, leaving me to try and bring some life back into my overworked tongue. The cubicle had become uncomfortably warm and the air was rank with the smell of womanhood.

I put my hand on the seat and eased myself up from the floor. I took a deep breath and adjusted my jeans before I turned to face them but it was difficult to muster any dignity given the circumstances. I decided it was best simply to say nothing at all but, as I stepped out of the cubicle, Mavis moved to block the way.

I immediately felt a sickening hollow in the pit of my stomach. I had not, for one moment, contemplated this. For one thing I was way out of her league and I must have assumed that white meat was not to her taste. There was absolutely no rationale for this and even as I reviewed the, now apparent, absurdity of my reasoning another thought came to mind.

There was the common perception, an urban myth perhaps, that Afro-Caribbean men were reluctant to go down on their partners regarding it as unmanly. Perhaps Mavis saw this as her opportunity to even the score.

She stared at me, daring me to defy her, but there was no way I could go through me it. For the first time in my life I clenched my fist and raised my hand to a woman. If I was going to hit her I should have done it immediately, without thought, but I hesitated and she saw through me. I was not given a second chance. She launched herself and used her weight to slam me into the wall.

I felt the whole trailer shake and then there were stars before my eyes as I tried to gasp air into my badly winded lungs. She was not finished yet. She bent down and took hold of my ankles and with a single vicious yank she pulled my feet from under me.

My head smacked into the floor and for a moment I blacked out completely. When I came to it was to find her standing astride me purposefully unfastening the buttons at the front of her cheap, floral print, dress.

I tried to rise but my brain felt loose inside my head and Gale and Janice quickly pinned my legs.

Mavis casually discarded her dress and I stared up at her. Had I only seen her calves I might have painted a different picture in my mind. She was not wearing hose and her lower legs were almost shapely but they were supporting the thick trunks of her thighs which in turn bore the weight of her wide, heavy, hips.

She stood in an everyday white bra and panties and whilst, on another woman, these might have fitted sensibly on Mavis they barely served their purpose.

Her belly formed a heavy roll in which the waistband of the panties was lost and they were stretched so tight over her crotch that they were all but see-through. Her bra, meanwhile, struggled valiantly to contain her weighty breasts with their lack of definition. It was obvious that she had particularly large nipples but they had long since given up the fight to face front.