Hurley the Harlot

Sam then lay back on the bed and smiled up at me. "OK, Tony, get to work on the 20-second cycle. I'll let you know when you can progress to the random one."

And with that the dark-haired personal trainer began to masturbate herself, while the blonde began to suck on my hard-on. I breathed in a deep sigh and pressed the red button.

Twenty seconds elapsed, then the zapper hit me. "Aaargh," I cried, feeling the first jolt of the day.

Nikki pulled her head from my helmet. "Oh that was great. His cock gave a sort of jerky throb when the shock hit him, Sam," she informed her partner in punishment.

"I know what effect it has on a slave's cock, now suck while I concentrate on my orgasm, Nik," said the personal trainer.

Nikki resumed her fellatio, then the second zap hit me. Again I cried out. Nikki kept sucking, one hand cupping my rubber-bound scrotum.

It took Sam about three minutes to reap the rewards of her digital dexterity, then, after she had recovered, she ordered: "Next button, Tony."

I pressed the blue one, sending the torture device into its random cycle. Just after the first shock – some 10 seconds into the cycle – Sam tapped Nikki on the shoulder and said: "Give me a go."

Nikki left to lie back on the bed and watch me suffer the random cycle shocks, while Sam sucked on my erection. Soon after the 25-year-old had enjoyed her orgasm, the door to the chamber opened and in walked Liz Hurley. She looked absolutely sensational!

Now as you know, I have no opinion on her acting ability – inability, more like – but dress her in leather and she's just one of the most stunning looking ladies, even if she is a blooming Pom!

She was clad in a black leather playsuit, which must have cost hundreds of bucks. It gleamed dully, but it clung tightly to her glorious body. The upper part of the outfit was open-breasted, so her lovely boobs stuck out, full and firm. It blossomed over her hips but was crotchless, her delightfully shaped pubic hair dark and inviting.

The playsuit had suspender straps – four on each side – which went down to gleaming black boots that came to half-way up her thighs. I felt my cock stirring into an even harder erection, despite the shocks the random cycle was delivering to me.

Liz smiled and walked over to me. "Hi Tony, enjoying your random cycle?" she asked, with a huge smile.

"Yes, thank-you, Liz," I replied. OK, so I was being punished, but I was learning to live with it. I'd take more of it if I could only make love to this stunning creature again!

"Jolly good," she said, in that awful upper-crust English accent. "Now entertain me with the Mistress Control Cycle – and make it inventive, or I'll be cross. Oh, and in case you think of cheating, I've been reading the instructions that came with this lovely little toy and it says if the button isn't pushed after a minute in the MCC, it reverts to the random cycle. Clever, eh?"

Then she stepped around to the bed, and lay back on it, spreading her thighs wide, allowing me a clear view of her beautifully-lipped pussy.

Both of her assistants joined her on the bed and watched as I had to torture myself with the device. I tried as hard as I could to make it enjoyable for them. I gave myself jabs after 10 seconds, 20, then 30, then 45. I tried at one stage to speed the zaps up, but learned quickly that it didn't allow you to increase the speed beyond a zap every five seconds. Some sort of built-in safety device, I guess.

The women watched with interest as my body shook and shuddered under my self-induced punishment and then possibly 10 minutes after I'd begun to torment myself, Liz called out: "Bravo, author, author!" I took it to be some sort of theatrical joke, and then she added: "Now come and lick me – girls, release him."

Nikki, watched by Sam who stood by with her trusty cattle prod, removed the yoke from my aching shoulders, then the spreader bar from my ankles and took the remote from me. I almost leapt on the bed, thrusting my face into her strongly-smelling snatch, licking at its moistness, savouring the delicious aromas and tastes, all enhanced by the wonderful smell of her leather outfit.

Soon Liz was humping my face furiously as she roared to an ecstatic climax, then I heard the words I so desperately wanted to hear: "Now fuck me, you lovely Aussie stud!"

I climbed up from her minge, placed my hard-on against her wet cunt and thrust home, kissing her open-mouthed at the completion of my initial thrust. It was all being captured on video by Sam, while Nikki stood by with the trusty EEZI zapper control.

Liz gave me a wicked grin as our pubic bones bumped together and whispered: "Tony, you're loving this, aren't you?"

I had to confess I was. "You're the most fantastic fuck I've ever had," I told her, without a trace of a lie.

Then, as my climax neared, Liz gave a nod to Nikki and I received a blast from the zapper. It triggered my explosion and once more I surged to a shock-supported orgasm which was as intense and as fulfilling as anything I'd ever experienced – well, at least since the day before!

So that was how I spent my days at the hands of these three sadistic women – lovely, yes, but sadistic. The mornings and evenings were spent being zapped, being whipped and every now and again being allowed to make love to Liz Hurley.

Oh, one thing I forgot. Her "afternoon matinees" – another of her little theatrical jokes, I guess. I'll describe the last one, which was also the hottest day I can recall for years.

The upstairs part of the house had what they called "the fun frame". On castor wheels, it was two slim metal poles set about four feet apart, about eight feet high with a crossbar. There were sturdy leather straps set in each corner of the rectangle. I was strapped into it, so I hung like an elongated letter "X", then they wheeled me out into the afternoon sunshine beside the large swimming pool. It looked cool and inviting, which it was – but not for me.

This final afternoon, the two assistants left me alone with Liz, while they went off to play some sort of lesbian games. I was hanging in the brutal sun, arse plugged with the dildo, rubber scrotal sack in place. Liz walked out with a beach towel. She arranged a recliner directly in front of me, then showed me the remote control.

"It's so bloody hot Tony, I'm off for a dip, but before I go I'll put the zapper on the 20-second cycle. I'll only be a couple of minutes, then I'll switch it on to random for you," she informed me.

The zapper was switched on and as I felt the first shock surge through my anus and balls, Liz dived smoothly into the water and began to swim lengths, stopping occasionally to watch my 20-second tremors. She must have left me on that cycle for five minutes, before climbing from the pool, the water glistening sexily on her stunning figure.

She switched the controller off then walked to me, put her wet arms around me and rubbed her nude body against mine. "Gosh, you'reso hot," she said, kissing me sweetly on the mouth. "I bet you'd love a dip."

Then she turned, presenting me with a great view of her arse, bent over, presenting me with a great view of her pussy, flicked the controller to "random" play and dived back in the pool. For five more minutes she cut through the water in what looked like a pretty good freestyle stroke, then climbed out again and towelled herself dry.

All this time I was enduring the EEZI's wicked jolts, jerking in my metal frame. Then, after putting on a large floppy sun hat and smearing sun tan lotion all over herself, Liz lay back and looked at me with a cruel grin.

"Now it's my turn, Tony," she smiled. "Try not to shout too much – my friend tells me the nearest house is a couple of miles away, but we don't want to attract the neighbours, do we?"

Then she gave me a jolt. Five seconds later another. Just then the two assistants, both nude but in high heels, emerged from the house.

Sam handed Liz a magazine, one of those stupid women's things. You know the sort of crap "Madonna's weight loss horror" and "Elle Macpherson's sexy secrets". Pure rubbish.

"Look what I found, madam," said Sam, handing the mag to Hurley. "An article all about you."

Liz took it and opened it to the page in question. "I'm on the mistress control cycle," she said, handing the zapper to Sam. "Keep him going while I read this. Oh, and Nikki, pop into the house and get that heart-shaped crop. May as well keep him warm while he's enjoying his shocks."

While Nikki went to get the flogger, Sam sat on the front edge of Liz's recliner and amused herself making me sweat under the "Mistress" cycle.

"Oh fuck," said Liz, the word sounding even more crude coming with her posh Pommy accent, "I never said that. Tony, I never said 'One day Liz says she hopes to settle in Australia' did I?"

Sam zapped me. "Aaaargh, no Liz, I don't think so, nothing like it," I replied and got zapped again for my troubles. "Bloody jounralists, they just invent things," said Liz, obviously miffed.

Then Nikki returned and as Sam amused herself making me guess when the agonising jolts would hit me, the blonde began to beat a steady tattoo on my arse, backs of my thighs and upper back with the crop.

They enjoyed themselves this way for about an hour, until Liz said: "Time for my Big O, girls. Get him back down into his cell."

Then Nikki, under the close watch of Sam – by now holding the cattle prod – removed me from the frame, snapped rubber handcuffs on me and marched me back down to the basement, where my aching, sunburnt body felt relief to be back in an air-conditioned environment.

Liz followed soon after and Sam shut the door. Nikki uncuffed me and Liz lay back on the bed, spreading herself wide for my oral attentions. "Give me all your loving, big boy," she commanded, and as Sam filmed our sexual encounter, Nikki stood off to one side, armed with her trusty cattle prod and the remote control.

The mature woman's snatch was a heady mix of sweat, urine, suntan lotion and sex juice. It didn't take long for her to start bucking and heaving under my mouth and then I went for her clitoris and drew grunted cries of "Ummmfffff, yep, I'm coming, yes, that's it, that's great, ooooh yes!" And then she came.

I lay panting slightly after my oral exertions, then heard Liz's voice, soft now, saying "Time for your fun, big boy, climb aboard."

I placed my cock against her cunt, then thrilled once more to the smooth slide up her sex chute, its satiny-soft walls grabbing my eight inches in a vice-like grip.

I kissed her hungrily on the mouth and she smiled: "You're loving this, aren't you Tony? Tell me you're loving this."

And, like a good puppy dog, I obeyed. "I'm loving it, you're so sexy Liz," I told her.

She kissed me back. "Do you feel like coming now, Tony?"

"Yes, yes, I do," I panted, as I heaved and humped on her glorious body, running my hands across her sweet breasts.

"Do you want the zapper, Tony?" she cooed in my ear.

"Yes," I said, feeling ashamed of my response.

"Beg Nikki for it, nicely, go on, let me hear you beg," said Liz.

"Zap me, please Nikki, please," I pleaded. "Pretty please Nikki, give me the zapper. Please, please!"

And Nikki laughed. "You're such a big softy," she said. "Oh, no, that's probably not the right word, is it madam?"

Liz smiled at me, then Nikki hit me with it.

"Aaaargh," I grunted, and then I felt my seed spurting to my cock head. Another jolt. I erupted into another wonderfully intense orgasm.

And that was the last time I made love to Liz Hurley.

That evening, after a nice steak meal, with the usual accompanying Fosters, Nikki allowed me out of my cage and under Sam's supervision – she had the cattle prod at hand – she removed the dildo and ball bag punisher, then showered with me, rubbing her busty body against mine.

When I went back into the cage, I found an ice tray, a glass, a bottle of Coke and a large bottle of Bundaberg rum. I was locked in for the night and I attacked the Bundy. It's not my favourite tipple – give me Grey Goose any day – but any port in a storm, as they say.

The next thing I recall was waking and having this intense desire for a piss. I pressed my emergency button and waited. Nothing happened. I pressed it again, suppressing a now urgent desire to empty my bladder. Nothing happened.

I pushed on the door flap to the cage and it opened! I could have sure I'd been locked in, but I was busting for a piss so I clambered out of my small prison and went to the bathroom. On returning to the main room, I tried the door. It, too, was unlocked.

I crept quietly upstairs and walked into the large lounge with its magnificent views. The sun was strong, a clock told me it was almost nine o'clock. The house was deserted.

In the kitchen I found them – an unsealed envelope with my Holden's keys on top of it. Next to that my clothes, arranged in a neat pile, and alongside that the dildo and scrotum shocker with the remote controller.

I sat down and read the contents of the envelope.

It was a typed sheet. It read: "Dear Tony, thanks so much for proving to be such a good sport – that's what you Aussies say, isn't it?

"The girls and I had lots of fun. Trust you did too.

"The videotape is in a safe place. If I'm ever back in Oz, I'd be delighted to do lunch.

"The dildo and ball bag is my gift to you as a memento of the wonderful week we spent together. It's powered by two little flashlight batteries. Enjoy."

It was signed "Hurley the Harlot" and there was a PS. "By the way, you were much better than poor old Hugh."

I went back downstairs and showered. Then I returned to the kitchen, dressed, got a bottle of Coke from the fridge and drained it in a couple of swallows. I picked up the envelope, the dildo and its remote and walked out to the Holden. I wasn't in any hurry.

Once inside and with the aircon going full bore, I picked up my mobile. It had 47 messages. The top one, the most recent, was from Jen. "Let's do lunch tomorrow, Tony. Call me." I checked the date – "tomorrow" was today.

I gunned the Holden alive and took off for Sydney, called Jen and agreed on the venue, dashed into my apartment, shaved, put fresh clothes on and grabbed a cab to The Rocks.

Jen was waiting at the bar, nursing a Bloody Mary. I gave her a non-committal peck on the cheek.

"Where the hell have you been for the past week?" she demanded.

"Oh, I decided to get away from it all for a while," I lied.

"Funny," said Jen, "that's exactly what Liz Hurley said to me when I saw her off at the airport this morning and it set both of her assistants off into fits of laughter."

She sipped on her drink while I ordered a Grey Goose on the rocks. "She said something about coming across 'a real hunk of an Aussie guy'."

Jen looked at me archly. "Wouldn't be you, by any chance, would it, Tone?"

I laughed, probably a bit nervously. "Fat chance, I'm not that lucky," I said.

Over lunch, Jen made her pitch: "Hell Fire has decided to make more, shall we say raunchy productions?"

I nearly choked on my fish. "More raunchy? For Hell Fire to be 'more raunchy' they'd have to go into porn," I said.

"Er, exactly," said Jen. "And they'd like you to be publicist for the next production."

I put my hands in the air. "No way, Jen, no way. I'm through with being a publicist in the movies."

Jen smiled. "Pity, because the star who's accepted the leading role in their first porno is Jenna Jameson." She looked at me intently. She knew she'd got me.

Jenna Jameson, wow! But that'sanotherstory!