The Devil's Mistresses Ch. 03

Roger woke at 6AM on the day he finally would have his encounter with the two mysterious prostitutes. He jogged his usual two miles on the treadmill, but he felt so good that he cranked up the speed and sprinted an additional half-mile. He had never in his life felt so vital, so infused with strength and power and male will-to-conquer. He stretched for twenty minutes and then did his usual three sets of fifty push-ups and two-hundred sit-ups. He went to the master bathroom, stripped, and admired his ripped body in the mirror. He was forty-eight years old and had the physique of a college halfback. He stepped on the scale and saw that he weighed exactly 190 pounds, the same as he'd weighed the last fifteen years.

He flexed his arms, his pectorals, and then he flexed his cock, which stood up huge and hard and proud between his muscular legs. He tenderly stroked his penis, knowing that tonight he would be using this as a weapon against two women, mother and daughter, who were supposedly the greatest fucks on earth. He smiled as his penis throbbed in his hands. He would show them that there always has been, and always would be, a very big difference between the sexes when it came to power.

Roger showered and went to his favorite restaurant for breakfast. He took Joubert's advice and loaded up on protein, ordering filet mignon, four eggs, and three glasses of whole milk. When he went back home after he ate he saw the mail truck pulling through the tall iron gates of his secured neighborhood, so he parked his Mercedes in the driveway and took a look. Inside was the usual collection of letters, catalogs and brochures, and also envelope, heavy, creamy paper, sealed with red wax, with that same stamp. Joubert.

The letter inside read, "You will be picked up at 8:30PM. Black tie, please. Eat nothing else the rest of the day, your breakfast was large enough." Again, the little man was showing off, letting Roger know that he was under close observation. He didn't mind. Tonight he would show off for Joubert.

There was nothing to do but wait. He read the newspaper, read a book, took a nap, watched a Brazilian soccer game on his plasma TV. As the day slipped into evening the waiting began to wear on him. He didn't know what he was getting himself into. He wasn't afraid that he would be kidnapped or killed, some intuition told him that Joubert was far above such petty trickery. He didn't know if he should be afraid. He thought about the warning Mr. Chao gave him back in Bangkok, that the men who coupled with these women were no longer "intact". Should he rethink this? Should he back out?

Of course that was impossible. Roger hadn't reached his exalted place in the world by stepping back when a challenge presented itself. He was confident he could handle whatever happened. He wasn't some hick who didn't know what a blowjob felt like. He was a man of the world, the entire world, West and East. He'd take on these two whores and leave them sore between their legs and his semen crusting on their lips.

At seven Roger showered again and dressed. He selected his Hugo Boss tuxedo, dressed, and waited. It took considerable discipline not to stand at the door looking out the window. He forced himself to wait in his den, re-reading the New York Times and listening to Beethoven, his thundering music appropriate for such a momentous occasion. Although he hadn't eaten for nearly 12 hours he wasn't at all hungry. He just sat, pretended to read, and waited.

When the doorbell rang, Roger checked his watch and found that it was exactly 8:30, exactly. The second hand was just sweeping past the six on the dial. Somehow they'd synchronized themselves to his watch. Amazing, and a bit frightening. What else did they know?

He took his time, walking with an even, unhurried gait. He opened the door, and standing there was a beautiful girl with strawberry blonde hair. She wore a green, satiny sheath dress that did little to disguise her sexy, slender body. Her skin was alabaster white and her red lips and green eyes leapt out against such a pale, flawless background. "Hello, Mr. Travers, mah name is Annabel," the girl said, her voice a soft West Virginia twang. "Will yah come along with me, please?"

She took his hand and led him to the black stretch limousine waiting in the driveway. She held the door open and Roger settled into the soft, gray leather seat. Annabel snuggled next to him and pulled the door shut behind her. The windows of the car were strange, they were tinted on the inside, so Roger couldn't see where they were going, but he could tell from the scrape of the tires on the driveway that the were moving. "I guess this beats wearing a blindfold," he said.

Her hand moved to his groin and she caressed him. "Ah'm afraid you'll have to wear a blindfold when we reach our destination. But for now, the windows are good 'nuff."

She kept stroking his erection through his pants, and Roger took her lovely face in her hands and kissed her. His fingers slipped inside the deep neckline of her dress and he thumbed her taut nipples. She cooed with delight, and said, "Ah'm responsible for making sure that you arrive at your meetin' nice and ready. Sometimes they get a little nervous and have some trouble gettin' hard."

"You're doing a good job," Roger said, slipping the straps from her shoulders. Her breasts were small as apples and tipped with nipples as pink as her lips. Roger leaned down and took her left nipple into his mouth. Annabel gently touched his face with her fingertips. "You can have me if you want," she whispered, "but if you do, you will not be allowed to continue with this meeting."

"Why not?"

"Monsieur Joubert always employs someone like me, a fluffer, to get his clients ready," Annabel said, her southern lilt vanishing when she said her master's name, which she spoke with a perfect French accent. "But he only allows men who can control themselves to keep their appointments." She bent down and kissed Roger, her tongue briefly probing his mouth before she leaned back, leaving her sigh in his mouth. "Men who can't control themselves are dangerous to him. Monsieur Joubert is taking a risk comin' here to America. If you aren't serious about tonight, if you can't resist a simple temptation like mahself, you aren't worth the risk."

Roger reached between Annabel's legs and felt the moist heat there. "You're more than a simple temptation." He gently stroked her slippery cleft, wrapping his arm around her and burrowing his fingers deeper and deeper into her vulva.

"I'm not going to fuck you tonight," Roger said as she smiled and squirmed in his embrace, "But I am going to fuck you. I'm going to make you suck my cock until I come all over those sweet lips, and then I'll put you down on all fours and fuck you till you scream."

Annabel's legs were wide open and Roger's fingers never stopped diddling her. "Darlin', you're gonna make me come."

He rubbed his thumb over her clitoris. "The other clients wouldn't make you come?"

She shook her head and that lovely red hair bounced about her shoulders. "Never," she gasped. "But of course didn't care about my pleasure." She arched her back and he diddled her faster and faster. Her thighs trembled and her nipples tightened and she had her orgasm, and Roger felt her vaginal muscles spasm around his thrusting fingers.

When she was done Roger eased back on the seat and made a point of licking his fingers. "I think Monsieur Joubert will find that I'm quite a different man than his previous clients."

Annabel leaned back against the seat, breathing hard, her eyes closed. She gingerly eased her lovely body back into her emerald dress. "Ah think you're right," she said, "but ah think Monsieur Joubert might surprise you too."

Annabel offered Roger some sparkling water, but no wine. "You cain't drink alcohol before your meeting."

Roger accepted the drink and kissed her forehead. "I must admit, I'm tempted to forgo the rest of the evening." He put her hand on his crotch. "I can't imagine enjoying anything more than making love to you right now."

She lowered her eyes. "Mr. Travers, compared to the women you're meetin' tonight, ah'm nothing. After tonight, you'll think making love to me's a waste of your time."

"I would never think that."

She kissed him on the lips. "Ask yourself in a few hours."

The car stopped. Annabel reached into a pouch on the door and pulled out a black velvet sash. "Ah have to ask you to put this on. Ah'll lead you, don't worry."

He consented to her request, and when she was done Roger truly couldn't see a thing. More mystery, and Roger felt his pulse quicken with excitement. He was really into this now, the fear was gone. For all the warnings, from Chao, the boy, Annabel, he was no longer afraid. Annabel had done her job well. He wanted to fuck.

The car door opened, and Annabel's soft hand nestled in his palm. "Come with me, Mr. Travers." It seemed that they passed through a doorway, and then Roger heard his footsteps echoing on a linoleum floor. They walked for about fifteen seconds, and then he heard another door creak open. Annabel released his hand, and gently nudged him forward.

"You're not coming?" he said.

"Ah'm no longer needed," she said. When he paused, another soft hand touched his wrist and led him inside. He let himself be guided around a corner, and there they stopped. He felt a gentle tug at the blindfold, and then it was drawn away, and he could see.

He was standing in what looked like the men's locker room of an athletic club. The carpet was dark orange, the lockers were bright orange. And standing before him was a tiny and very pretty Vietnamese girl, wearing a bright saffron robe that billowed around her slight body.

She bowed low. "Good evening, Mr. Travers. Please, remove your clothes and set them on the bench. They will be attended to."

He paused, a bit bewildered by his surroundings. But the girl looked up at him with patient eyes and he took off his clothes and carefully draped them on the bench. The girl averted her eyes as he stripped, but when he stood before her totally nude she looked at his erection with no embarrassment. She stepped back and let the robe slip from her shoulders, again showing no self-consciousness at her nudity.

"Come with me, please," she said, and Roger followed her into the showers.

"I bathed today," he said, with only a touch of sarcasm.

"You must be cleaned a special way, to ensure that you are acceptable to those you meet tonight. They are especially sensitive to unusual smells, and as they rarely visit America, your soaps and detergents may displease them."

She turned on the water and felt it for temperature. The water beaded on her tea-colored skin and made it glisten. Roger stepped close to her and his penis slid along the small of her back. She shivered as he took his erection in his hand and rubbed it over her ass and the small of her back.

"I must wash you," she said, twisting away. Roger didn't pursue her, knowing that she had to come back to him. She picked up a bar of clear yellow soap and a thick natural sponge. She lathered the sponge and slashed at him with it, washing his chest and armpits and back and legs, but avoiding his cock. The soap smelled odd, almost musky, but still pleasant. The girl went about her work efficiently, and in a few minutes Roger was clean, in all but one important place.

At last she set the sponge down and filled her hands with the soapy suds. She closed her hands around his cock and pumped him in and out of her tiny fists. "Ahh..." Roger sighed.

"I apologize," she said. "It is not my intention to arouse you."

"Intention or not, you are," Roger said, cupping her small breasts in his hands. "Spread your legs, I want to touch you."

She squirmed away. "I am a virgin, I am not allowed to be touched there."

Roger seized her and spun her around, so that his erection was pressing against her ass. "I will decide where and when to touch you," he growled. He pulled her close and pointed his erection at her vagina. There was no prohibition about fucking this girl, was there? He would deflower this girl right here and now, to show Joubert that he was not a man to be taken so lightly.

A voice echoed through the locker room. "You will stop that, Mr. Travers." It was Joubert.

Roger paused, but didn't release the girl's hips. There must be a camera and speaker somewhere in the shower. "I will?" he challenged.

"You will. We do not have the time for such behavior. We are on a timetable. Allow her to complete her duties."

Roger pulled the girl tight against his pelvis, rubbing his cock between her buttocks. He wanted her very badly. "And if I refuse?"

The voice said, "You will be killed, Mr. Travers." And before Roger could speak the voice said, "Look behind you."

Roger turned, and standing there was a burly Asian man in a black suit. The man held an automatic pistol capped by a long cylindrical silencer. The man said, "The first bullet won't kill you. Nor will the second, or the third, or the fourth. It will take you hours to die."

Roger let the girl go. He turned and faced the man, showing no fear. "Leave us," he demanded. "You made your point."

The man kept the pistol centered on Roger's chest until Joubert's voice said, "Thank you, Seiji. You may go." The gunman turned on his heel and marched away.

The girl returned and resumed washing Roger's groin as though nothing had happened. She moved behind him and her soapy fingers probed his anus, surprising Roger when she thrust her finger inside him. "You must be clean here, as well," she said.

"Why is that?"

"Because that is what I was told." She kept fingering him and Roger wondered if this was her way of getting revenge. But soon enough she stopped, and she positioned Roger under the spray, washing away the few remaining suds.

When the girl determined he was sufficiently clean she dried him with a thick, fluffy towel. She led him back to the locker room and slipped into her robe. "Please sit, and I will replace the blindfold."

Roger bored his eyes into hers. "The first time a man invades you, it will be me." He gripped his penis and waggled it at her. "This flesh will be inside you, I make that promise to myself."

She bowed. "I must blindfold you."

"I'm going to fuck you, and fuck you, and fuck you, until you beg me to stop. And I'm going to make you beg. And when you beg, I'm just going to laugh and fuck you harder."

She made no response. "I must replace the blindfold now, Mr. Travers."

He sat and let her complete her task. "Just remember what I told you."

"Yes, Mr. Travers, I shall."

She took his hand and led him out of the locker room. They only walked for a dozen or so steps before Roger heard another door creak open. "You must duck your head, Mr. Travers," the girl said, and Roger leaned down and walked through the doorway. The door whuffed shut.

The floor was cold under Roger's feet, cold and smooth. "Hello?" he called out, and his voice echoed against the walls.

Joubert's voice came from high above him. "You may remove your blindfold, Mr. Travers."

Roger pulled the sash from his eyes and looked around. He was standing in a squash court, the ceiling lights turned low. He looked up and saw that there were people standing in the gallery that overlooked the sides and back wall of the court. He turned and saw Joubert, and standing next to him were his two blonde women from the night before. Ringing the court were perhaps three dozen other people, men and women, Western and Asian, all wearing evening wear. Some held flutes of champagne, other cigars. They all leaned over the edge to get a good look at him.

Roger recognized two of the Asian women who peered over the edge. They were the two teenage hookers he had fucked and then tortured when he overheard one of them talking about the "devil women". Roger nodded. "So it was all a set-up," he said to the two young women.

The Japanese girl raised her champagne glass in mock salute. "Very good, Mr. Travers. I must say, I am very much looking forward to this, after the way you made me suffer back in Bangkok."

Roger dismissed her with a snort. He put his hands on his hips and looked up at Joubert. "You didn't tell me that I was to be the evening's entertainment."

"You must understand, it is not often that a man voluntarily agrees to meet with my dearest darlings. These good people are filled with admiration for your courage, Mr. Travers. They want to see such courage in action."

Roger's erection stayed hard and constant. "I don't give a damn about them. I want what I paid for. Where are they? I'm ready."

The assembled crowd laughed. Joubert said, "Mr. Travers, I doubt that very much."

They laughed louder, and that infuriated Roger. He said, "I'm glad to see you brought your high chair, Joubert."

The laughter stopped. The people standing in the gallery looked horrified. Every head turned to Joubert, who showed no sign that he took offense. In fact he even smiled slightly. There was a pause of perhaps ten seconds, and then the Frenchman said, "Let us begin."

The knob creaked as it slowly turned, and the door opened, but just a crack. He saw shadows move past the tiny window in the door, and a hand appeared. The fingers were long and slim, and tipped with blood red nails over an inch long. Roger's penis bobbed in front of him, he had never felt lust more powerfully in his life. "Please, come in," he said.

The door sighed all the way open, but there was no one in the hallway. Roger waited, and then he sensed more than saw that two people stood on either side of the opening. "Ladies?" he called. "Join me, please."

Their shadows appeared first, sliding gracefully across the wall. Roger was almost trembling with excitement. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to show those degenerates up there what kind of man he was.

The shadows came closer, closer, until they coalesced into flesh. The two women walked into the court with their faces tilted to the floor. He could see the curves of their high cheekbones but he couldn't see their eyes. And he could see their bodies. They were both absolutely exquisite. Flawless.

Perfect.

Both women stood around five-foot-six. Their figures were lush hourglasses-overly large, and deliciously full, breasts; flat, sculpted stomachs; wide, smooth hips. The woman on the left had thick, golden blonde hair, the girl on the right had black hair of such luster that it shone even in the dim light. The blonde was the mother, in her late thirties, perhaps. Her body was obscenely ripe and juicy, her big breasts jiggling with every step, her plump vulva sweet and inviting. The daughter was about half her mother's age, and if her body had not yet filled out into the voluptuous excess of her mother, her face was even more exquisitely beautiful. Yes, he could see the resemblance in their faces, their shocking, striking faces. Each woman had the same high cheekbones, pillowy lips, long eyelashes, and dramatic eyebrows.

The women walked like big cats, slowly, almost lazily, their long legs carefully picking out where to take each step. They seemed in no hurry. They still didn't look at Roger, who stood in the center of the court, licking his lips. These were the two most beautiful women he had ever seen. Ever imagined. He tried to decide who was the more exquisite, and couldn't make up his mind. He typically liked younger girls, but he could never say that he'd seen a more attractive woman that the blonde creature walking toward him.

Well, that didn't matter, because they were both his. They both belonged to him tonight. He would enjoy them both, enjoy these two perfect women.

They were taking too long to reach him. He wanted them NOW. So he took a step toward the door. The younger woman made a snarling noise deep in her throat. She turned to look at her mother, who in turn looked at her daughter. Roger saw their beautiful profiles, and then the two women slowly turned to face Roger, and for the first time he saw their eyes.