Stone and the Gangster's Girls

Soon, when Amy became so aroused that her pussy squelched and farted, goo sliding out of her to dribble along the crease of her arse, I was tugging at myself with urgency.

Amy raised her legs and, with the dildo hanging out of her, held her knees with one hand as she rolled onto her side. In this position, knees together and her labia clamped around the rubber cock, Amy reached back and took hold of the shaft with a backhand grip.

"I'm going to come, Daddy," she moaned, her voice muffled with her face pressed into the pillow. "I'm such a nasty girl. I'm going to come on my dildo."

"It's beautiful, Princess," I hissed, my own fist a blur. Despite everything -- my concerns at being in such a precarious position, having carnal knowledge of Dave Devine's wife and daughter, and the chance that someone could well burst into the room to investigate the inevitable grunts and moans -- I found myself carried away with the wholly sordid fantasy scene the girl had created.

I found the sight of that girl jamming the length of rubber into her cunt to be one of the most exciting visions I'd ever seen. Her profile twisted as she gulped and grunted, her climax boiling between her legs. She gasped and mauled at one breast, with its round nipple as hard as a pebble as her body began its convulsions.

I'm gonna come too, Amy," I grunted, not knowing if the girl could even hear me.

I took a step closer to the bed and gasped as the semen jetted out of me. Great globules of spunk spattered against Amy's skin as the stuff cascaded in a heavy arc to land with a splatter against Amy's hip and thigh. More of the stuff rained onto the quilt cover, with one stray blob splashing onto Amy's calf.

"Daddy," Amy panted. "Oh, Daddy, I came so hard." Amy rolled onto her back with the dildo still wedged inside her body as she pulled a face and raised her hips. "You've come on me," she said, breathless and holding up a hand smeared with jizm after exploring the damp bed beneath her. "You came on me and messed up my fucking bed." Anxiety slid in my guts as I stood there, my cock dribbling ooze, and I thought that the girl was about to start causing all kinds of drama.

"Amy, I ..." I began, intending to apologise for staining the bed and perhaps staving off any unpleasant repercussions should she start yelling.

Then, to my relief, Amy smirked and smeared my gloop onto over her skin. "I love it, Daddy. That means I can smell you all night. When you leave I'll be able to play with my clit and think of you. Your scent will be here with me. It's like the animals do, Daddy. They leave their mark to claim their territory. Is that what you've done, Daddy? Is that why you came on me and my bed? Is it to mark me as your princess? Is it a warning to others to keep away, Daddy?"

Again, now that the ardour had cooled I could appreciate how precarious my position was. The stuff the girl came out with ... she really was fruit loop, a fucking loony tune. I realised then that she could be capable of anything. The daddy/princess thing was one thing, I could get my head around that -- and it really was sexy as hell, kinky -- but some of the other stuff really had me worried.

The only thing I could think of to do at that moment was to play along with her.

"Your my princess, Princess. I'm your daddy and I'll look after you."

"Kiss me, Daddy," Amy whispered, her eyes dark. "Kiss me goodnight."

Just as I quietly opened Amy's bedroom door, she murmured to me, "I'll phone you tomorrow, Stone. Be ready for a surprise when you get the call."

It wasn't until I got back to the Range Rover and safety that I turned over Amy's final words in my head; I hoped she meant a nice surprise, not an unpleasant one.

What I didn't realise then, and I wouldn't find out until Kenya, was that someone had seen me from one of the upstairs windows as I'd moved along the path from the house to the back gate set in the formidable wall.

Four -- The Punishing of Amy

The confession was close to bursting out of me. I felt like I would explode if I didn't unburden myself of all this baggage I was hauling around. Julie had been bad enough with her insatiable sex drive and penchant sometimes towards risky sex. After three months of living on a knife-edge, wondering if she would blab to Dave or if we'd be caught by some unforeseen circumstance, I'd grown used to her and found a sort of equilibrium. The fear and anxiety never went away, but I had it under control at least. Now, with Amy adding to my weight of troubles, and working on less than an hour's sleep, pumped up with caffeine, I felt a reckless urge to tell someone about my problems.

At ten o'clock on the morning after the visit to Amy's bedroom, I was in the office with Tommo as we looked over the final preparations for the Kenya trip. Tommo was a bloke I could rely on. Next to me, at thirty-six, he was the oldest and most experienced on the team. Our careers in the army had overlapped and I knew the man well. More importantly, I trusted him.

For the Kenya trip our threat estimate was low, and I think Dave really wanted some of us along just to show off to the Africans. As we checked details of the trip -- flights, accommodation, weapons and ammunition -- I experienced an overwhelming desire to spill all to Tommo. Just as I opened my mouth to speak it then dawned on me that if, or more likely when, Dave discovered the liberties I'd taken with his wife and daughter, anyone I'd taken into my confidence would be in jeopardy. I couldn't predict Dave Devine's response to the fact that I'd dicked both women; he could decide on extreme violence to exact his retribution, and I wouldn't want anyone else but me to suffer as a result of my irresponsibility.

There was also something on Tommo's mind. He seemed a little distracted, perhaps a little anxious at the forthcoming trip. I'd given Tommo a lot more responsibility on this job, partly to boost him along in terms of his standing within the organisation, and partly because my dealings with Julie had caused me more than a few sleepless nights. So, as it went, I didn't purge my soul to my second-in-command and friend. I kept my dirty little secret to myself and waited for Amy's promised call.

When I answered the mobile a woman's voice asked, "Is that Stone?" I confirmed my identity and the voice continued. "I have a message from Amy."

My first thought was that this was someone making a move on Dave and that Amy had been taken as a hostage, but it just as quickly occurred to me that Dave would be their first contact, either him or Julie, not me.

Glancing at Tommo as my quick fright subsided, I responded as casually as I could manage. "OK, go on."

Another look towards Tommo and I saw him apparently engrossed in some detail of our morning's work.

"On the estate," the woman said. "Amy's grandmother's block. You know it?"

The woman was talking about the flat where Dave Devine grew up, the one he escaped from as soon as his rise in the criminal underworld allowed. Dave and I had spoken of our common past a few times, and where I'd bought my mum and dad a cottage down in the New Forest, taking a mortgage on the place when I'd settled into the military as a career, Dave's mother, a widow, had stoutly refused to move out of the old flat. An amazing choice in my opinion, but I suppose the old lady had her reasons. It takes all sorts to make a world.

"I know the place," I replied.

"Same block, flat 17. One hour." There was a pause. "Can you be there in an hour?"

With the main business of the day almost complete I decided that I could make the rendezvous. I had no work pressing during the rest of the afternoon and could leave the team to look after itself. Besides, Amy's threat about telling Dave I'd raped her in the shower was still uppermost in my mind. I'd had a scare that made my balls tingle, and so I thought it wise to accede to the girl's crazy set-up. Maybe I could figure out a way to get her under some sort of control as things played out.

So that was how it went. I'd almost convinced myself I could handle Amy and her mother when I told Tommo I wasn't feeling on top form and that a little siesta might be in order.

"OK, boss," Tommo replied, seemingly unconcerned. "Will you be back in later?"

"I'll let you know," I said as I left him there in the office.

I took the tube to the estate after deciding that I didn't want to risk the Range Rover. Not that it would be vandalised or stolen, not one of Dave Devine's fleet of motors, but I didn't want the car's presence to give any cause for questions being asked, just on the off-chance that word got back to Dave.

Half a mile from the tube station to the miserable tower block and the drab grey day only enhanced the depressing scene of litter, graffiti, take-away chicken and pizza joints and ubiquitous betting shops. Out of the five concrete towers that made up the estate, the one occupied by Dave Devine's sainted mother was the only one with a lift that didn't stink of piss, and where the walls and pathways were clear of graffiti tags and litter.

Still, being deep into Dave Devine's territory with no real reason to be there, I felt a tickle of anxiety at what I might find beyond the door in flat 17. It was a plain, blue door, no heavy iron grill in place as a deterrent to burglars. Not even the smackheads in their skin-crawling desperation would dare to sully the block of flats Dave's mum lived in. That's how fearful Mr Devine's reputation was. At this reminder of how fearsome Mr Devine had become I paused before knocking on the door. I really was caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. What the hell was I doing here? If Dave finds out ...

And then I remembered that Amy could just blow me out of the water quite easily herself. Especially if I pissed her off. She was expecting me, it probably wouldn't be a great idea to turn and walk away.

A faded blonde answered the door at my knock. I took in the detail quickly as she looked me up and down in a bored, jaded fashion. I put her age at thirty or so. She had the look of a woman who'd seen it all, an air of cynicism in the way she eyed me with a cold stare of haughty indifference. At one time in the not too distant past she would have been a stunner, and I could see the prettiness in her face despite the faint crows' feet around her eyes. Her blue eyes showed a bright intelligence that could easily be overlooked, and I imagined that there might be more to this woman than front she immediately presented. Nice legs, I noticed during a quick glance at her skirt and boots. The skirt fell to mid thigh while the boots were calf length with a pointed toe and lethal heels. She looked to be pretty well stacked up top too as her bust pressed against the simple white blouse, and I could just see her perched on some bar stool, cigarette in one hand drink in the other while she teased horny young men with a flash of thigh and a dirty laugh.

"I'm stone," I said by way of introduction.

The woman didn't deign to reply, merely took a step to one side and then, as I stepped past at her invitation to enter the flat, closed the door.

In the tiny hallway of the two-bedroom flat I was reminded of my own youth in a flash of bittersweet reminiscence when I recalled my old dad, now long retired, as he stepped out for work at the railway yards from a flat so very like this one. For a moment I wondered at how my mum and dad would cope if I just disappeared one day. What would they think of Dave had me dropped over the side of some anonymous fishing boat way out on the English Channel?

Again I cursed my own stupidity at the situation I found myself in, but, since I was now committed, I had no choice but to follow the blonde as she led me silently along the short hallway to what I remembered would be the living room.

"Oh, Daddy!" Amy cried when I stepped into the room after the blonde. "What ... what's going to happen to me?"

The truthful answer to that was that I didn't have a clue. I thought this was her gig, that Amy would be calling the shots, but judging by the fact that she was fully dressed and sat on an old ladder-backed wooden chair with her wrists and ankles bound I sort of doubted it.

"Shut up, bitch," the blonde suddenly snarled, taking me by surprise as she slapped a palm across Amy's cheek. After a moment of shock, where I stood in the middle of the room and stared at the woman, I took a step forward. "Don't bother trying to help her," the blonde hissed, holding up a restraining palm. "She's got to be punished. The nasty little slut." The woman grabbed Amy by the face, her fingers pressing into the girl's cheeks. "Tell him," the blonde insisted. "Tell him what a filthy tart you are."

The woman released Amy's face and I saw the red welts across the girl's face from the stinging slap.

What the fuck was I involved in?

Amy sniffed and breathed deeply for a few seconds. "Oh, Daddy," she blurted through a sob. "It's true. I've been so bad. I touch myself and fuck my little pussy with nasty rubber cocks. I ... I think about fucking all the time. When I sit on the bus I think about all the men on there with me touching me and letting me suck their cocks. I fantasise about them all fucking me and covering me with spunk after using me as a sex toy."

I suddenly understood the scene. Amy riding on public transport was a joke, there was be no way the spoilt rich girl would get on a bus, so this whole thing was simply another of Amy's perverted games. This was Amy's punishment, another demonstration of her kinkiness, an arrangement for Amy's benefit.

Who the blonde was, I had no clue, but I sussed that she was the director in this scene, and anything she did, including slapping the girl's face, would be within some code of conduct between the pair that I wasn't privy to.

I decided to go with the flow. If this was what Amy wanted, OK, I'd play the game; unless it got too weird.

The living room made a surreal setting for what followed. For a start it was an anachronism in itself given the block of flats that housed its walls. It was like stepping into a showpiece from some up-market furniture dealer's catalogue. The sofa and armchair combination looked brand new and expensive, while a huge flat-screen TV covered one wall. The place was done out in subdued pastel shades that whispered taste and money. If I didn't know better I'd swear I was in some high-fliers apartment in docklands, not a flat in a dingy tower block on a sink estate.

Then there was Amy on that piece of shit kitchen furniture all trussed up.

"You spoil yourself way too much," the blonde said as she loomed over the girl. "It's time for a little lesson." She indicated Amy's wrists bound behind her back. "There's no way you can touch yourself like that, is there?"

With that she turned and walked to a small bag that sat on the carpet next to the settee. The woman knelt and unzipped the bag, rummaging around inside for a moment before pulling out a dildo.

"Daddy," Amy murmured, eyes imploring as she stared at me. "Help me, Daddy. Please help me."

"Shut up!" the woman spat. "Keep your mouth shut. Nobody's interested in anything your slut mouth has to say.

I watched as the blonde calmly hiked up her skirt, bunching the material around her waist. It looked to me that she carried a little more flesh than she would have done half a dozen years before, but the effect of seeing her so blithely displayed caused a flicker of interest in my cock.

The woman sat on the sofa and then eased back into its embrace. She folded her legs and, with no regard for the damage her heels might cause to the expensive furnishings, rested her boots on the seat. With her legs spread wide she hauled aside her scant underwear to reveal a pair of meaty flaps, her labia dangling all loose and thick. Again my cock pulsed with interest.

"Watch me," the blonde sighed as she splayed herself open with her fingertips, rings on her fingers glinting dully in the murky light from outside shining in through the balcony doors. "I'm going to show you what you look like when you fuck yourself with one of these dirty things." She held up the rubber cock before taking hold of it in one fist and rubbing the blunt end around her vulva. Then, with a gasp, she nudged at her opening and took three inches of latex into her body. "It's nasty watching me fuck myself, isn't it? But I bet it's making you all wet, eh? Look at it, bitch. Watch me shove all of it into my cunt."

Amy groaned, her eyes glazed while she stared with hot-eyed desire at the woman on the settee. "Oh fuck," she sighed. "I'm horny ..."

"I told you to keep your slut mouth fucking closed," the woman snarled. She slid the full length of the dildo out of her body and lowered her bootheels to the floor. In a second or two she was up out of the seat and advancing on a wide-eyed Amy. "Bitch," the woman spat as her palm slapped Amy's cheek. She took a fistful of the girl's long hair and yanked hard. Amy winced and yelped as her head snapped backwards. "Maybe this will keep you quiet," the blonde snarled and then forced the dildo between Amy's lips. "Taste my cunt," she added with a hiss and a tug on Amy's hair. The woman suddenly released her grip and turned to face me. Pointing at the sofa and then to Amy the blonde instructed me to carry the girl to the sofa. "Put her on the floor on her knees," the woman commanded as she regained her position on the settee, legs wide and pussy exposed.

The dildo rolled from Amy's lap onto the floor when I picked her up. I baby-carried her the few paces across the room and settled her on the carpet where the blond had pointed.

It was obvious what the woman wanted and, as the blonde splayed her flaps with her fingers, Amy leaned forward.

"Lick my cunt," the blonde hissed. "Taste me. That's what a woman tastes like, you dirty little tart. Lick my pussy and suck my clit. Get me off so I squirt on your face."

"Oh fuck, Stella," Amy gasped as she came up from the woman's greasy labia for a moment. "I want to touch myself. Please, just let me play with my pussy. Just for a few seconds."

"You don't fucking learn, do you?" Stella snarled. She grabbed a handful of Amy's hair and, twisting roughly so the girl gasped in pain, forced Amy's face against her sex. "You don't talk. You don't say anything. All you do is lick my cunt when I tell you to. You do what I say, when I fucking tell you. Get it?"

Stella looked up at me and told me to lift Amy onto her feet. "Get her standing," she barked. "On her feet and then unfasten her jeans.

As gently as I could I brought Amy upright. Next I unbuttoned her jeans and pulled down the zip.

"Pull them down. Get her jeans down as far as you can." I managed to yank Amy's tight jeans down until they were bunched just below her knees, a struggle because they were just about skin tight and I had a job to get them past her hips. "Turn her round," Stella said in low, dangerous voice. "Let me look at that arse." Amy minced around one hundred and eighty degrees with a little assistance from me. "Look at that," Stella gurgled. "What a perfect peach of an arse."

The woman reached out a hand and gently caressed each taut globe, feeling the pliant texture of each of Amy's buttocks with a dreamy smile on her face.

"You," Stella said, jabbing a finger at me. "Sit here." She patted the sofa seat next to her and then rose to her feet. "Sit down and then drape this slut across your lap. Get her sweet rump in the air. I want to see her arse."

So I sat down and helped Amy to lie across my lap. The girl was positioned in such a way that her hips rested on my thighs and thrust her pert derrière upwards.

Stella leaned low and stroked each buttock slowly, caressing and murmuring endearments until she laid a series of soft, feather-light kisses across each globe.