tagNonConsent/ReluctanceDigital Spy Ch. 07

Digital Spy Ch. 07

bydavet1©

Some of the feedback I got for the previous instalment expressed unhappiness with what happened in chapter 6, particularly the sadistic edge to it. If you didn't like that chapter then this one probably won't appeal to you either.

The idea for the clothes hanger came from Goldeniangel's story The Tittty Torturer Ch. 03, and it was so good I had to borrow it!


-----

Not surprisingly we slept in on Saturday. But eventually our eagerness to see the new apartment roused us out of bed - even Aless, who I'd half expected to sleep all day. We walked to a nearby café and had breakfast, all of us producing the occasional wince as we unintentionally aggravated a strain from the previous night. After leisurely finishing our coffee and croissants we caught the tube at Kensington High Street.

It occurred to me that if I was going to carry on this family man caper - and I was absolutely determined that I was - I may need to rethink the transport situation. High-performance 2-seat sports cars are all very well for the horny bachelor or divorced MILF about town, but for a loving couple with a teenage daughter they left a certain something to be desired. Fortunately London's transport system could pick up the slack for now. We changed onto the Docklands Light Railway at Bank and watched London going about its business from the raised track. We hopped off at Limehouse and quickly found our way to the apartment.

Like many of the exclusive Docklands developments it was once abandoned warehouses and wharfs from the days when London was a busy port. In the 1980s developers moved in (secretly funded largely by the infamous Brinks Mat gold bullion robbery of 1983) and rebuilt the area as a business and yuppie paradise. The so-called 'Black Monday' crash of 1987, when the US stock market lost $500 billion in one day and world markets plummeted in response, hit the area hard, but more prosperous times had returned. Even an IRA bomb at the nearby business centre of Canary Wharf, exploded in 1996 and causing around £85 million worth of damage, had not reduced the area's exclusiveness.

The apartment building was located at Victory Place, and was better than I could possibly have guessed. It consisted of a 6th-floor penthouse atop the tallest building on the edge of Limehouse Marina, with balconies on three sides. The southern aspect looked out over the marina to the Thames beyond, while the one on the east face gave extraordinary views of Canary Wharf's gleaming, pyramid-topped glass spire.

Inside, the lounge had its own bar and high arched windows, with steps leading up to a galleried dining area. A spiral staircase led to a private, railed roof garden, which allowed us to see west across London's famous skyline. Along the back of the building were three spacious bedrooms, the master with a plush en-suite bathroom. The kitchen was smaller than Julia's but well appointed. The building had 24-hour security, a private gym and we'd been allocated secure underground parking for 4 cars. We all absolutely loved it.

Julia and Aless hailed a cab into town for their car-shopping trip, while I went back to Julia's and arranged for some of my personal stuff to be shipped from storage in Birmingham. Then I spent quite a bit of time going through the hours of footage from last night. Imani and Anjali's ordeals were uploaded to the site in full, as were my encounter with the twins and Aless and Julia's 'education.' I watched a selection of other clips from around the club, resisting the urge to spend the day jerking off in front of the depravities on the screen. One particular favourite was a film of Carly and Fliss kneeling handcuffed back to back, whilst Edgecombe angrily cajoled passing guys to wank over their faces. By the time they cleaned up and left I counted around 40 loads of sperm deposited over the beautiful pair, and they looked uncannily like donuts that had been glazed with icing.

Even though we'd left at around three am the club had kept going until well after dawn. Shortly after we'd gone home a new dancer had appeared, a bottle-blonde who redefined the term 'pneumatic.' She had breasts that must have caused a world silicone shortage, and her lips, nose, cheekbones and eyes were all shrines to the plastic surgeon's art. With a few tattoos and piercing she could have passed for a San Fernando Valley porn slut.

She strutted onstage clad in a harness that was nothing more than a series of leather straps and buckles criss-crossing her breasts and pussy. She wore leather stiletto heels with long tongues running up the back of her spray-tanned calves, and a series of straps reached around from each of these tongues to buckle up the front of her shins.

The speaker voice blared; "here she is, gentlemen. The main event!" A loud cheer obscured any further announcement, including the girl's name. Two security guards were busily cuffing her wrists to the top of the poles onstage, and then they repeated the process at the bottom for her ankles. Stretched tightly between the poles she was trapped in a lewd X-shape. The men in the club had soon formed two queues, one directly in front of her and one behind. At the bidding of the guards the first man in each queue began fucking her, the one behind her up the ass and the other in her cunt. A large, clear plastic bucket was placed between her feet, and when the guys were ready to come they shot their wads into it.

Each time a guy came the one behind him immediately took over, so there was a train of hard cocks being propelled into the slutty Barbie clone. When the bottom of the bucket contained about an inch of semen a guard swapped it for an empty one. The girl's hair was yanked back and tied to a strap on the back of her harness, and a gag was shoved roughly into her mouth. The end in her mouth was shaped like a fat, stubby cock with a wide channel running through it, the other side consisted of a clear plastic funnel. It was fastened around her head with straps that crossed her cheeks and another that passed between her eyes and over the top of her head, a large padlock clasping them tightly together at the back. Another guard upended the come bucket into the funnel, filling it almost to the brim with slimy white jism. I could see the girl's throat working frantically as she struggled to swallow the slippery mess. Every so often one of the men fucking her would squeeze her nose closed, briefly cutting off her air supply and drawing tears from her eyes.

This carried on literally for hours, and the cameras captured it all. I counted around fifty men in each line, with some returning several times to sample both holes. With the repeat performers the silicone whore must have swallowed around 150 loads of semen, a steady flow of buckets being emptied into the funnel.

I heard the front door as the girls returned, and paused the playback. Aless was almost jumping up and down with excitement, frantic to show me her new wheels. She'd chosen a supercharged Mini Cooper S in British Racing Green (the right choice, I thought with a little pride) with a white roof and chromed wheels. It was the perfect trendy runabout for Aless and her friends, and though it was considerably smaller than either my or Julia's cars we both noted with amusement that it had twice the number of seats!

We went inside, Aless dashing to the phone to call some of her friends and arrange to pick them up later. I meanwhile led Julia into the study and re-opened the video file. "Check this out," I said. "She's not really my type but she's got a ton of stamina... what's the matter? Darling, are you OK?"

Julia had gone pale. "I don't believe it," she murmured. "Do you know who that is?" I shook my head. "It's Chardonnay, Giles' little slut of a mistress!"

"Shit! Really? Do you think he knows?"

Julia's smile was evil enough to kill a charging buffalo. "I know one way to find out!"

*****

That evening we left Aless with money for pizzas and she drove off in her new Mini to collect some friends. They were planning a sleepover in Aless's room, and she'd promised me she'd get them stripping off to try on each other's clothes before the night was out. Julia warned her to leave the phone forwarded to the answering machine because she was worried Giles might be calling.

Julia drove in her Z4, weaving confidently through the traffic to Covent Garden. This was something of a detour, but she was on a mission. We pulled up outside the small, gated apartment block and Julia quickly sneaked up to the second storey walkway. Looking around quickly she pushed an unmarked brown envelope through Giles' mailbox, and then ran back to the car, trying to suppress the laughter that was bubbling out of her. She sped away as if we'd just held up a bank. "Let's see how the bastard likes THAT!" she sniggered.

We pulled up outside Julia's friends' house shortly afterwards. It was a modern town house in the suburb of Richmond, and as we pulled into the drive behind a blue Mazda RX8 Julia said, "Good, the others are already here."

I looked at Julia, sitting across from me in the car, and was once again struck by her arresting beauty. She wore a long evening gown of burgundy velvet that hugged her curves deliciously. Over this she had a matching wrap to protect her from the cool September air, and on her feet she wore a pair of black ankle-strap high-heeled sandals, made of translucent mesh accented with a lace design. Her toes, painted dark red to match her nails and lip gloss, peeked out under silk stockings from the ends of her shoes. She was wearing gold jewellery and her lustrous auburn hair fell around her shoulders in a cascade of curls. Perched on her nose was a small pair of frameless oval glasses. My breath was well and truly taken away.

She made to get out of the car, but I placed a hand on her arm. "Just a second," I said. "Before we go in I wanted to give you this." I pulled a black velour jewellery case from the pocket of my suit jacket. I opened it solemnly and presented it to her. She gave a little gasp. In the case were a matching pendant and earrings. Each consisted of a plain 18-carat white gold setting containing a diamond, weighing a carat each. The pendant was suspended on a short thin chain, while the earrings were attached to even finer chains that passed through the ear and dangled down the neck, leaving the diamond lying snuggled on the lobe.

"Oh... Dan! My God! They're beautiful!"

"You're beautiful," I answered. Yes, it was an awful cliché but it was also true. Julia almost tore off her gold trinkets and gently tugged the earrings through her lobes. She swept aside her glorious auburn tresses and I fastened the pendant around her throat, seizing the opportunity to kiss the soft skin of her neck and run my hands across her shoulders. She moaned softly.

"Why do I think you're trying to distract me from dinner?" she said breathlessly. With some difficulty I tore myself away from the feel and scent of her hair and skin, opening my door and stepping into the chill air. I opened Julia's door and extended my hand to help her out. She stood and we headed for the front door - or so I thought. Julia veered off, walking temptingly around the front of the Mazda parked ahead of us. She looked me in the eye and slowly leaned forward, resting her hands on the bonnet as the velvet wrap fell around her shoulders.

I knew precisely what she wanted, and moved behind her. Slowly I inched her dress up her thighs, lifting it over the tops of her seamed stockings to reveal dark purple garters trimmed with black lace. Unzipping myself, I pulled my cock free and entered her pussy. She ground her hips back against me and hissed, her teeth clenched tightly. Slowly we rocked together, breathing hard but otherwise making no noise.

After a few minutes of this Julia motioned me to stop. "I don't want to come yet," she moaned. "Let's go inside and have some fun first." She tugged down hr skirt and led me to the door.

It was answered by an attractive middle-aged woman in dark pencil skirt and slightly translucent pink top, a plain white bra just about visible underneath. She had dark blonde hair cropped medium-short, with a long fringe hanging down either side of her face to about lip level. Her face was angular, with a sharply pointed nose, bow-shaped mouth, brown eyes and eyebrows that seemed to be perpetually in a mischievous arch. "Julia darling, lovely to see you!" They hugged and showered cheek kisses on each other.

"Hi Ruth," Julia replied. "This is Dan." Ruth gave me a peck on the cheek.

"I thought you'd be here earlier, I was sure I heard a car turning into the drive," said Ruth, puzzled.

"Oh, we did," replied Julia. "I just wanted Dan to fuck me over the bonnet of Katie's car, that's all." She left the open-mouthed Ruth holding the door open and swept past her into the house.

*****

Julia introduced me to the rest of her friends; Ruth's husband Toby, alder than me and largely bald but otherwise in good shape; Katie, the owner of the RX8 we'd just been screwing on top of; and Katie's boyfriend Eugene, a tall, muscular black guy in his mid-20s. We guys were dressed smart-casual, but the three of us were only interested in the girls. Katie was a vision in black; short leather skirt, tight low-cut sleeveless blouse, pointy-toed patent leather pumps, fishnet tights (or hopefully stockings), oblong glasses with thick black frames, and jet-black short hair in a wedge cut. Her face was oval, and she had pixie-like features; a lightly freckled button nose, Betty Boop kiss of a mouth and wide green eyes.

The women cooed over Julia's pendant and earrings, and I chatted with Eugene while Toby grabbed me a Peroni. Eugene seemed nice enough, though he didn't have too much upstairs; his face was completely guileless and he spoke enthusiastically about the mental challenges presented by his job as a personal trainer. I got the feeling that Katie wasn't keeping him around for his riveting conversation.

We sat down to eat, and all of us complemented Ruth on her superb cooking. I noticed Katie eyeing me curiously, while Ruth looked me over with what seemed to be slight apprehension; I guess she thought I was leading Julia astray. As for the guys, they couldn't take their eyes off my date. I was sure she had noticed and was no doubt enjoying the attention.

We laughed and joked through dinner, and I think even Ruth was warming up to me. She, Katie and Julia had all known each other since their schooldays and were firm friends. Ruth seemed to be the most straight-laced of the three, having been happily married to Toby for 15 years. They had two young kids (who had been packed off to the grandparents for the evening) and seemed to live a life of domestic harmony.

Katie was a different story. Reading between the lines I got the idea that she went through men like most people go through cars; trading them in every few years when a better model came along. She had apparently worked her way through a succession of toy boys, of which Eugene was only the latest. She didn't seem concerned that his idea of spiritual fulfilment was a deluxe set of barbells, so I guessed he had other 'skills.' I had to suppress a chuckle when Ruth described Katie as 'the wild one' of the trio. If only she knew...

The wine flowed freely through dinner so by the time we retired to the lounge we were all pleasantly tipsy. Julia snuggled down next to me on the couch, with Katie sitting unusually close on my other side. Toby sat in an armchair that I guessed was probably his favourite, and Ruth sat next to Eugene on the room's smaller couch. Ruth looked a little uncomfortable about being so close to the burly black man, but was doing her best to cover it by making small talk. Eugene looked as if he was too dumb to notice.

"So Dan," asked Katie. "You're a fellow car nut: what do you think of my RX8?"

"I like it," I answered. "I never understood why Mazda didn't release the old RX7 over here. I used to have an import model..." We talked about the smooth power delivery of our respective Mazdas' Wankel Rotary engines (Eugene sniggering loudly at the name) until we sensed everyone else was bored, which didn't take very long. I told Katie she could take a spin in my Murcielago some time, and she excitedly accepted.

"Sorry everyone," said Katie, "I don't mean to go on about cars."

"That's OK," replied Julia. "I like it too. I got a good look at it when Dan was fucking me over the bonnet."

Toby choked on his drink, Ruth's hand shot up to cover her mouth in horror, Katie burst out laughing and Eugene looked puzzled for a moment, then his face split into a huge Cheshire cat grin. "Wow, Julia," chuckled Katie. "Dan must be leading you astray. Maybe I should get Eugene to do me on the hood of your BMW, it seems only fair!"

"Mmmmmm," cooed Julia. "Only if we can all watch."

"Julia!" snapped Ruth. "Look, nobody can make you do things like that. You can get help, you know."

Julia looked puzzled. "What do you mean?" She asked.

Ruth blushed. "Before, in the kitchen. I accidentally looked down your dress a bit, and I saw some... bruises." It was true that there had been some light bruising on Julia's boobs from their paddling at the club. "If somebody's hurting you" - she shot me a dirty look - "you can get protection. You shouldn't be afraid to speak out... What? What is it?"

Julia had curled up on the couch, her head resting on my shoulder, as she howled with laughter. She couldn't speak for a few moments, tears rolling down her cheeks. "S-sorry," she said when she got herself under control. "I don't mean to laugh at you, Ruth. I'm very touched that you're worried about me. But really; nobody's hurting me, especially not Dan." She grinned the wicked grin I loved so much. "Unless I ask him nicely."

Ruth looked bewildered and more than a little hurt. "I don't understand; how did you get the bruises then?"

Julia blushed a little. "Let's just say it was in the course of a great night out."

"Ohhhh no you don't!" jumped in Katie. "You can't tantalise us like that and then not explain! Come on - what have you two been up to, apart from fucking in public on other people's cars?"

Julia gulped the contents of her wine glass, took a deep breath, and gave a quick rundown of the previous evening's events. She left out a lot of the details - the stage show, Aless's presence, the nature of the club and so on - but by the end of it everyone's mouths were hanging open in shock, even Eugene's. "So... who was the guy who, you know, hit you?" asked Ruth.

Julia shrugged. "No idea. He looked a bit like Eugene though!" The black guy grinned again.

Ruth looked at me, both disgusted and fascinated. "And what where you doing while this was going on?" she asked me.

"Well, now, let me see," I began, pretending I couldn't quite remember. "Oh, that's right. I was fucking one of a very sexy pair of 19-year-old twins up the ass, and then I came in her sister's mouth. After that I watched Julia being paddled while me and three other guys fucked another gorgeous teenager in every orifice at once." I nudged Julia, saying, "tell them about the girl with the bottle!"

"Oooh yes!" yelled Katie. "Tell us about the girl with the bottle!"

Julia explained what had happened with the Hawaiian girl shoving the fat end of a beer bottle into her cunt while her tits were abused. "I got my own back though," she laughed. "She probably thought better of it once I'd shoved my fist up her ass!"

Ruth shook her head. "Honestly, I don't know how anybody could do something like that - have sex with somebody who isn't your partner. Not to mention all of that kinky stuff! It's just not something respectable people do."

"Really?" said Julia. "You mean to tell me that when you look at Eugene, you aren't even a bit curious as to what his big, black cock would feel like sliding into your pussy? And what about you, Toby? You're very quiet, but you've been staring at my body since I arrived. You'd like to fuck me, wouldn't you? Even in front of all these people?"

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