Steff Ch. 08

Donna could not believe the things that had been done to her. She told herself it was not her fault she had been fucked by the men at the hotel – they had given her drugs, and forced themselves on her. She conveniently forgot the number of orgasms she had had.

But the nineteen year old high school student frightened her. She had not even had a single drink, and yet had been powerless to stop him. John Loftin had not even tried all that hard, and she had been on her knees sucking him off, and then masturbated in her cramped little office after he had left. At least, she had until the maintenance man had interrupted her. No, she could barely believe the events of the past few weeks.

She had an even harder time believing that she had allowed them, and after a brief protest, enjoyed them. That was not the type of woman that she pictured herself as.

So she came to the conclusion that she had to react to what had happened in some way, some positive way that said she had regained control of her life. With that in mind, she discounted King and Peters from the company. They could still make trouble for her, and she had only used about half the dances.

King had made it clear that he meant to collect on them. Just the thought of that stiffened her nipples and made her pussy tingle; it also sent a tingle of guilt rushing through her.

So she had to act against John Loftin.

She called his father Dean Loftin the next day. She had no doubt that he would admire the fact that she had come directly to him instead of involving the police first. Dean Loftin was one of the state Superior judges.

He had been dismissive on the phone, but had set up an appointment at his office the following day.

Donna Williamson rose early – the appointment was not until lunchtime. She wandered aimlessly, and then decided that she would need just a small drink to get through this.

She made a small pitcher of martinis, and drank three of them before eating a bowl of cereal. She went to shower, and then piled her hair in a careful bun. She put on just a little makeup, with a light pink shade of lipstick. It made her full, pouting lips shine.

She dressed in the underwear in a sleepy daze. It was not until she was straightening that she realized she had dressed in the slutty underwear King had given her. The small bra, at least a size to small, pushed her big breasts up and out, forming a deep cleavage, and the stockings set off her legs perfectly, as did the g-string her hips and ass.

She dressed in a careful knee length skirt and modest jacket, but the shirt she wore could not help but show off the proud mounds of her bosom. The small buttons strained where they stretched over her tits, but the jacket covered everything quite well.

She had two more martinis before she drove to the Court Annex.

The man showed her to the judge's chambers. She tried to walk steadily behind him, but felt she was not quite getting away with it. Something inside her whispered that this might not be such a good idea, but she had drunk too much to listen to the voice. Dean Loftin was a pillar of the community – he would not risk his position over such a thing, and he would draw his son in line.

Then the clerk was showing her into the room. There were two men in the room, both of them looking almost alike. The one sitting on the couch was dressed casually, in loose khakis and a knit pullover. The man behind the desk, Dean Loftin, was dressed in a white shirt and dark slacks.

"Ms. Williamson," he said, nodding to the couch. "This is my brother Randall. I thought it might be best if we had a confidential witness. I tried to get a woman, but . . . "

"No, that's fine," Donna said, a bit to quickly. She was glad there was another person there, even if it was a man.

Both the men were good-looking, with close shorn hair, and strong, hawk like faces with sensitive lips and dark, burning eyes. She realized with a start that judge Loftin was staring at her, waiting.

"Um, I . . . I don't really know how to start," she stammered. She felt tiny standing there in front of the huge desk.

"Yeah, Dean, jeez, you haven't even offered her a seat!" Randall said, standing. Donna had thought John was big, but this man made him seem small by comparison. Randall was huge! He stood at least six inches over six feet, and had broad shoulders. His upper arms were nearly as big around as her thighs.

He smiled down at her in a friendly way, and then led her over to the couch. "Here you go, Ms. Williamson. Don't worry about a thing. Why don't I fix a drink for you? A nice iced tea."

"Um, yes, that would be nice," Donna said, looking at him. Her eyes dropped downward, and she bit back a gasp when she saw his fat cock through his loose trousers. He stood there for another moment, and then turned and walked away. Donna peeked out of the side of her eyes at Judge Loftin, and was glad to see he was reading some type of document on his desk.

Randall Loftin grinned widely as he walked away from the woman. He could not smell liquor on her, but he was convinced she had drunk some already. He made the long island iced tea strong, and it was a strong drink anyway, and then surreptitiously poured a small vial of liquid into the drink. He doubted she would drink the whole thing, but the stuff was powerful. That was the advantage of having a judge as a brother – you got the best dope.

He met Dean's eyes, and they both grinned widely at one another. John had told them both what had happened as soon as he got home from his date that night. He had been amazed when the woman called and wanted a meeting, and could not pass the chance up. So he had called Randall, and arranged to have some of the drug. It did not knock a person out, did not even incapacitate them much, but it loosened inhibitions drastically. From what his son had told him, the woman's inhibitions would not have to be loosened much to allow Dean and his brother to double-team her.

Dean got up from behind his desk and walked to the couch. He stared down at Donna Williamson as Randall handed her the drink and sat down right beside her. The woman blushed, and looked around the room.

She was a looker. She had an aristocratic, fine boned face, with high cheekbones and a delicate jaw. Dean stared at her mouth, at the wide, pouting lips. She had put on not much makeup, but her lips were the exception. They were covered liberally in shiny pink lipstick that screamed SLUT to Dean. He could not tell much about her body. He liked the swell of her hips – her skirt could not hide that – but the jacket covered too much of her body.

He smiled when she finally looked up at him. She took a sip of the drink, and gasped sharply. "I didn't know it was going to be alcoholic," she said softly, holding a hand to her chest.

Dean sat down on the other side of her. "Do you want me to take it back?" he asked, trying to meet her eyes, but she kept glancing around the room.

"No, I guess it shouldn't go to waste, and it is lunchtime," Donna said softly, then took another cautious sip of the drink. She was already drunk enough, she said to herself. She did not like the way Judge Loftin stared at her, and the two men sitting on either side of her had her feeling trapped.

"Now, what can I do for you, Ms. Williamson?"

"Um, well, it's about your son, Judge Loftin."

He did not say, You can call me Dean, like she thought he would. Instead, he sat there for a moment, staring at her with those dark eyes. His shoulders and arms were nearly as big as his brothers. Then he finally said, "What about him, Ms. Williamson? I don't have all day. Just tell me what you're doing here."

Donna nodded, took a long sip of the drink this time, then another quick one. The drink had a zingy taste to it, and she didn't know why she thought it had been so strong. She could barely taste the alcohol now. She felt a flush spread through her body, and a rush went up her spine, reminding her of the cocaine buzz.

She blinked, and looked at Randall as he laid a hand on her knee. "Are you alright, Donna?"

"Yes, thank you, Randall," she said, and swallowed again. God, she felt good. "Anyway, um, John, your son – well, I had a counseling session with him on Tuesday, and after we had talked for a while he . . . Umm, he tried to force himself on me." Donna trailed off. She had rehearsed her anger over and over, had made a whole speech, and now she sat there tongue tied and miserable. She perched on the edge of the couch, her back straight. She barely noticed when Randall's hand stayed on her knee.

"What do you mean, tried to force himself on you?!" the judge demanded. His hand gripped her upper arm tightly, his fingers going all the way around Donna's arm easily. She gasped at the feel of his big, strong fingers digging into her flesh, and blinked at what he said next. "Is this some type of extortion bid? Are you going to try to demand money? Is that why you didn't go to the police?"

"No, of course not!" Donna gasped, shocked that he would even think such a thing. "I . . . I didn't think either of us needed the publicity. My fiancé would kill me if this got out!"

The judge looked at her for several long moments, then nodded and let go of her arm. "Well, then I need to know exactly what happened so I can decide what to do," he said.

Donna nodded, and licked her lips nervously. For the first time, she noticed Randall's big hand on her knee. She looked at it for a moment, but decided it was just a friendly gesture.

'Um, well, we were sitting on the couch – "

"Is that your normal practice? To sit on the couch with students?"

"No, I mean, um, yes, I try to put them on an equal level. Anyway, towards the end of our session he – umm, he pulled his thing out. His penis," Donna stuttered, blushing a bright red.

"What were you wearing?" Dean asked, his eyes sharp.

Donna finished another sip of the drink, and said, "About what I have on now."

"Were you wearing your jacket?" Dean asked. His plan was about to go into effect. He already knew everything that had happened that night, and he meant to exploit this horny bitch literally to the hilt.

"Um, well, no," Donna said softly.

"Good then, why don't you take it off. Here, I'll hold your drink." Then he was reaching out, taking the drink from her motionless hand.

Donna stared at the man in shock. Then heard Randall saying from the other side of her, "We're just trying to get to the bottom of this, Donna." He squeezed the flesh just above her knee reassuringly.

Donna nodded, dazed. She felt so much like she had just done a big line of coke. "I'm not sure if I should do that," she said softly, but she had already undone the first button of the jacket. The men sat there, staring at her as she undid another button, then another.

Donna unfastened the last button, and hesitated slightly, but before she could do anything, Randall took his hand off of her leg and peeled the jacket down her shoulders. She looked a quick thanks at him, but his eyes were locked on her breasts. Donna looked down, and bit her lip. The shirt was smaller than she had remembered, and formed to her breasts. She could see the lacy bra underneath the light silk shirt, and could see where her proud bosom pushed over the edge of the bra.

Donna blushed. She did not know what to do with her hands, so she just kept them clasped in her lap. The Judge was staring at her breasts also.

"What did he do next?" dean asked, finally looking into the woman's eyes.

"He – he tried to kiss me," she said, trying to make her voice sound strong. She felt Randall's hand on her thigh again, above the knee this time, almost at the edge of the skirt. She stared at his hand for a moment, and then took another sip of the drink.

"Like this?" Dean asked, and turned her head slightly, his big finger hot under her chin. Then he was bending towards her. Before Donna could understand what was happening, his lips were on hers, his tongue probing at her lips.

Donna's mouth dropped open before she could stop it, and then the man's tongue was in her mouth. She gripped the drink tightly with one hand, and pushed him away. "Yes, kind of," Donna said shakily. She looked back down at her legs, and saw that Randall had slid his hand a bit further up her thigh. Her skirt was now bunched just slightly around his hand.

"John said that you took your shirt off, showed him your breasts."

Donna opened her mouth, but what could she say? It was the truth, but not the whole truth. "Well, did you?"

"Um, it's not like you –"

"Did you take your shirt off?"

"Yes!"

"Your mad because he didn't fuck you, aren't you, Ms. Williamson?" Dean asked softly.

"What? No, of course not!"

"Well, he said you were a complete slut. He said all he had to do was show you his big dick and feel your tits up for a few minutes, and you were on your knees sucking his cock."

"No! That's not the way it happened! Oh, my god, what are you doing?" Donna gasped as he moved his right hand suddenly. Then he was pressing the side of the glass against the tip of her left breast. The icy coldness of the glass made Donna's breath freeze in her throat. Her nipple had already been swollen and hard, and the icy glass was making it worse!

"Why are your nipples so stiff, Ms. Williamson? Tell you what; I know a way to determine the truth of this. Let me feel your breasts up for five minutes. If you can stop me after that, then I will punish my son."

Donna stared at him, her mouth sagging open in a sexy O. The glass pressed harder against her firm tit mound, began rubbing the stiff bud of her nipple slightly. What did the men think they were going to do right here in a state building?

She looked at him, then her eyes went of their own accord downward to his lap. She saw his stiff cock through the dress slacks he was wearing, and a tremor went through her as she snatched her eyes away from his cock bulge.

She did not see him set down the drink, and did not see his hand until the moment before his palm pressed against the tip of her left breast

"Judge Loftin!" She gasped as his fingers began kneading her heaving breast with more force. He lifted the globe, and squeezed it strongly through the thin shirt and bra. Donna stared down at his hand miserably as he said easily, "Just five minutes, Donna, and then we'll know one way or another. Does that sound reasonable?" he asked his voice making it sound as though if she thought anything else she was as stupid as he thought.

Donna tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. Her head was spinning as Loftin squeezed her breast harder. Donna was more than drunk. She felt high as well. She was still sitting on the couch, her back arched, her legs pressed tightly together. Randall stared at the gorgeous woman, and grinned widely. He squeezed her thigh hard, till she gasped softly, but she did nothing other than that. She looked around the room nervously, as though by pretending the men were not feeling her up she could stop what was happening. Her eyes were glazed, and half closed as she finally nodded, agreeing to the judge's terms.

"Very well," Loftin said softly. His hands were gentler now, teasing and rubbing instead of squeezing. Donna Williamson shifted uncomfortably on the couch, and looked down with dazed eyes at Randall's hand pushing her skirt up another inch. Quite a bit of her lithe thighs were visible now, but her thighs were still pressed tightly together. "Now, why don't you take your shirt off for me," Loftin smiled at her. "After all, you did for my son."

Donna stared at the man. She wanted to protest, but for some reason what he said made sense. God, she was high! She reached up with trembling hands, and undid the first button on the shirt. "You . . . nothing will happen? I have your word?"

"Sure," Loftin replied, staring into her eyes as she undid the rest of the buttons slowly. Then she was spreading the halves of the shirt. Randall let out a low whistle. John had been right – this chick had unbelievable tits! They were overflowing the little bra she had worn, her stiff nipples right at the edge of the cups.

Donna blinked as the men peeled the shirt from her shoulders. "I'm not sure if you should do that!" she said, but they were already peeling the shirt off of her arms. Donna shivered, and then planted her fists on the couch, looking about the room, anywhere but at the two men.

Dean Loftin's hand was caressing her shoulder. "You've got great breasts, Donna," he breathed into her ear. She glanced at him, and then looked at his hand as it slipped the slim bra strap off of her shoulder. "Ohnn, Judge Loftin," she breathed heavily. His hand slipped down her arm, and then reached over casually and peeled the bra down from her right breast. She stared down at his hand in shock as he gently cupped her now naked breast and began kneading it softly, rolling his fingers over her stiff nipple, then lifting the whole globe up and out from her chest.

He could not believe how soft her breast was. He squeezed a bit harder, but the woman merely squirmed on the couch, her breath rasping in her throat. When he bent and sank his lips over her nipple, she gasped softly, her breath shaking in her throat. "Ohnn, Judge Loftin, I'm . . . I'm not sure you should do that!"

Donna twisted on the couch to no avail. Dean's big hand was behind her, and she had no room to move. She was trapped between the two men. The middle aged bride to be felt Randall's hand slip higher up her thigh. She glanced down in time to see his long fingers slipping under the skirt. It had pushed up quite far, exposing the dark ring at the top of her thigh highs. In a moment, she felt his hand against the naked flesh of her upper thigh.

"Oh, my god, what are you guys doing to me?" she breathed softly.

Randall squeezed the woman's thigh hard. He heard her moan, and the petite beauty shifted slightly on the couch, her legs separating just a bit. He rubbed her leg from her knee to her upper thigh now, each time spreading her legs apart a bit more. He leaned down, and kissed her cheek. She turned to him, as though to say something, but before she could he had sealed his lips to hers, and wormed his tongue into her mouth.

Donna slipped her eyes closed as Randall began kissing her deeply, passionately. It felt so strange to have her big titties being licked and sucked and to be kissed at the same time. She shifted again, opening her legs further, then moaned into his mouth as his hand slid smoothly onto her panty covered pussy.

She somehow stopped kissing Randall, and stared at him with wide eyes as he slowly pushed her silk panties into her moistening snatch. "Ohhhnnn," she gasped as Dean Loftin's teeth bit strongly on the puffy tip of her tit. His other hand pushed the left bra strap from her shoulder, and then he was freeing that breast also. "Ohhnnn, noooo," Donna squealed as he captured the swaying globe and began mauling it roughly.

The twin sensations of her bosom being caressed and mauled, and Randall's strong hand working on her pussy had Donna's head swimming. God, she was drunk! The feel of the slick silk invading her pouting pussy lips was making her eyes roll back in her head. Then his thumb was . . . pressing . . . against her. The big pad of his thumb seemed to find her clitoris as though by magic. He rolled the stiffening button softly, and then gently rubbed the silk over it.

Donna felt him moving, shifting, but did not think anything of it. Then Dean Loftin's mouth was covering hers. His thick, muscular tongue speared into her mouth, and she pushed her own small, agile tongue back at it, then tenderly explored his mouth, which tasted strongly of mint.

They shared a long, slow kiss as Randall knelt down between her slim thighs. He was still rubbing and flicking her clit through the panties, but now he pulled them to one side. "Oh, no, Randall, please . . . please don't do that," she gasped, somehow pulling her mouth away from Dean's kiss.