Catering for a Stag Do. Ch. 02

After Christmas, Trish and Dave started to get quite concerned about the lack of bookings. They discussed her going back to work; now that the kids were older, it was not so important for her to be home after school. They were surprised at how quickly Trish found a position. There was a vacancy in the geography department of a school nearby, and they wanted her to start in the last week of January.

Trish taking the job took a great deal of worry out of the equation for Dave. He had plenty he wanted to do at the shop. Changing the shop's layout was one of the first things to tackle. There were new benches to build, and he wanted to extend the toilet facilities so they could fit a shower, changing area and lockers. The toilet refurbishment was future proofing, for if they needed to employ staff. There were also rooms upstairs that previous businesses had used for storage. When the row of units had originally been built, the upstairs was to be an apartment. Dave wanted to finish the upstairs rooms and rent them out.

The second week in January, Dave was building some new benches at the shop when he looked up to see a guy he vaguely recognised walking through the door. The guy introduced himself as Bob Simpson, and Dave immediately remembered that he had seen the guy on TV. He was the head of the Simpson Family business empire, known chiefly as the Booze Barron, with liquor outlets all over the country. It was an inherited family fortune, but rather than pissing it all away, he had invested the inherited money and branched into many different fields of business, the liquor industry the most successful of them and how most people would recognise him.

Bob explained that he had heard about a stag do they had put on from an acquaintance at Dave's tennis club. He explained that his son was getting married and he wanted to give him a stag do to remember. He gave Dave a Friday night date in four weeks' time. He explained he had already booked the penthouse suite at a local hotel and wanted nibbles and a girl that would lap dance his son and maybe go as far as giving him a blow job.

Dave, not wanting to appear too desperate, said he would check the dates, but he was pretty sure the date was free. But as for a girl, he explained that he would have to ask and get back to him, as the girls he had provided for previous functions didn't go any further than getting their tits out, and he didn't know if they would go for a blow job.

"Give me a couple of days, and I'll phone you the information." Expecting Bob to give him his number.

"No, I'll be past this way on Wednesday lunchtime. I'll call in." Replied Bob.

Dave was excited about the prospect of the booking. They had a wedding at the end of the month and a tennis club opening-day dine-and-dance in early February. But they made little on the tennis club functions, only covering their costs. So they desperately needed to get some more bookings.

Once he left, Dave phoned the stripper they had used previously. Silvia said she couldn't do it on the date he gave her as she was going to be out of town that weekend. However, the girl she had brought with her at the last Stag-do would probably jump at the chance. When Dave explained about the blow job, Silvia just laughed and told him that this went on all the time and that if they offered enough money, Anne would go a lot further than a blow job.

Wednesday came, and Dave was getting anxious when he saw the clock click over to 1:25 and no sign of Bob. They needed this job. But he was relieved ten minutes later when Bob came through the door. Dave passed on the information he had received from Silvia, the costs involved and that how far she would go would be determined by how much the boys offered her on the night.

Bob was happy with that and told Dave to go ahead and organise it all. He gave the hotel name and phone number of a guy there that would show Dave where to unload the food etc. There would be eight guys, and they would be playing golf in the afternoon before taking his son to jump off the Sky Tower. There was talk of them grabbing a burger after the golf to soak up some beers. Then they would go ten-pin bowling. So, Bob figured they should get to the hotel around 9:00 pm and be hungry again by that time. He thought finger foods, some seafood and other savouries would be sufficient.

"I will get one of my liquor stores to supply all the booze. You just need to bring some condiments to make any cocktails." But I'll give you the number of my store manager, Adam, so you can organise what you need. Dave must have let the disappointment about Bob supplying the booze show on his face. As when he asked Bob about his being at the Stag do, Bob replied, "No, I'm away on business that week and don't worry about the booze. You can keep any that is left over."

The money Bob was offering, and the fact that they could keep all the leftover booze, had Dave feeling a lot more confident about their prospects for the next month or so. It was a windfall, something they had desperately needed if their venture into running a catering company was going to be viable.

Once Bob left, Dave returned to building the bench but found his heart wasn't in it now. He wanted to tell Trish the good news and sit down and plan what they would serve on the night. So he packed up his tools, locked up and headed home.

As soon as he walked in the door, Dave knew that Trish had something planned. She had that naughty, slightly guilty look, like the cat that ate the canary. But he didn't give her a chance to deflect him from giving her his news. "You'll never guess who I had in the shop this afternoon. And the function he wants us to cater for."

"Who?"

"Bob Simpson, you know that booze baron guy you see on TV sometimes. And he wants us to cater at his sons Stag do."

"Oh! That's good news. I must have known, as I've got a surprise for us to celebrate with later.... after the kids are in bed."

"I can't wait. Can we get them off to bed now?"

Trish just laughed and gave him the 'Oh Yeah look'.

Of course, it was well after 9:00 before they finally got them in bed and sleeping. Trish told Dave to go downstairs, put the dishes away, and not return to the bedroom for at least 15 minutes.

When Dave did get upstairs gain, he found Trish lying on the bed, dressed in a tight slutty red skirt and a tight white teeshirt. She looked like she had been poured into the clothes. He doubted that the skirt would be more than an inch below her crotch if she were to stand up. To complement the skirt and T-shirt, she had black fishnet stockings, red high healed shoes, and a black lace choker around her neck. He had never seen any of these items of clothing before. She looked like a real harlot.

But what surprised him most and ultimately took his breath away was the red satin curtain cords she had lying beside her. A closer look told him there were probably four separate cords, a matching red and black satin blindfold and some chrome clamps. He knew from porn stuff he'd watched that these were nipple clamps.

Realising she was expecting to be tied up, blindfolded and molested, he hesitated. Bondage was so far from anything they had ever attempted in the bedroom before that he let out a surprised high-pitched squeak. And then, in a high-pitched voice, he asked, "Bloody hell Trish, where did this fancy of yours come from?"

Trish hesitated before replying. She realised that if Dave was not into this, it would likely cause some issues. She suddenly looked very unsure of herself. "I've had this fantasy of being tied up from long before we met. Are you OK? We don't have to do it."

"No, I'm OK. It's just taken me by surprise. You have never mentioned it, let alone given the slightest hint, you would like to try that. Where did you get the outfit? I've not seen any of this stuff before."

Trish glanced down at her skirt, "I passed the Sally Army shop on the way home and stopped to browse around. I remembered my fantasy when I saw the skirt and shoes."

Trish got a wicked look on her face and said, "You don't need to worry about being careful with the clothes. The whole outfit cost me $10.00. So it can be thrown away later."

With this last statement, Dave's previous reservations disappeared, and wicked thoughts started flashing through his mind of things he'd read. Daydreams of tearing clothes off a woman's body, etc. He moved to the bed, intending to kiss and cuddle to get her in the mood. But Trish flinched away, and he realised she was already slipping into her fantasy and didn't want it to be anything like their usual consensual sex play.

He grabbed her hands and pushed them up above her head, leant forward to kiss her, but she twisted her head away. So he stuck his tongue in her ear and nibbled on her ear lobe. "You going to be difficult slut." He'd never talked to her like this before and fully expected her to object. But his words just elicited a low moan, and she wriggled around, attempting to free her hands.

He held her wrists tight with one hand, reaching down to get the cords, then looped one around her left wrist and tied it to the bedhead. Then fighting against her struggles, he looped another cord around the other wrist and tied this to the opposite side of the bedhead. Trish reacted by jackknifing her torso up and tried to knee him in the head. Dave had to duck out of the way. Then spinning around, he lay across her hips while he got a cord around an ankle and pulled that down to the foot of the bed, where he tied it to one of the base legs. The other leg was easy to fasten now; she was twisting, turning and calling him names as he stepped back.

Fitting the blindfold over her head was next, and he noted that she seemed to calm down a little now that she was secured and could not see. Dave found he was sweating from the exertion and his sexual excitement.

He got up from the bed to survey the scene and figure out his next move. The sight of Trish's fantastic figure, bound, spread-eagled and vulnerable on the bed, had caused his cock to swell awkwardly in his pants. Her hips spread out from her narrow waist, and even lying on her back, her breasts swelled up against the teeshirt, the nipples trying to force their way through the thin material.

He reached down to rid himself of his pants but realised he wanted to get some photos, in case this never happened again. Their camera was downstairs in their home office, and other thoughts about how he could take advantage of the situation were creeping into his mind.

Dave moved towards the door, "I'll be back in a moment, don't go anywhere." First, he checked on the kids. He didn't want one of them walking into their bedroom and seeing their mother spread-eagled on the bed. But all was good; they were both fast asleep. Then downstairs to pick up the camera. He also stopped by the kitchen and took scissors from the utensils drawer and the bottle of cooking oil from a cupboard.

When he returned to the bedroom, he set about modifying Trish's outfit. He pulled her teeshirt up under her chin, exposing a black lace bra that barely contained her fabulous globes. He roughly cut and tore this away, then pulling the teeshirt back down, pinched the teeshirt where it was thrust up by her now hard nipples. He lifted it clear and cut two large holes. When he dropped the teeshirt back in place, the nipples and a good proportion of each breast were poking through the ragged holes.

Next, he moved down between her legs. And although her positioning looked pretty dam sexy, his deviant mind thought of a better position. So he released one of her legs, then pushed it up so that her knee was almost against her chest and fastened the cord from under her knee to the cord holding her wrist. He then did the same with the other leg, leaving her wide open and exposed. Trish closed her knees together, attempting to conceal herself and let forth another tirade of curses about his upbringing and birth status.

Dave hopped up and retrieved a pair of old stockings from her underwear drawer. These he fastened onto the cord at each knee, then tied them onto the side of the bed, pulling her knees wide apart.

"Ah! That looks much better, "

Another burst of abuse flowed from Trish's mouth.

He ripped a big hole in the fishnet stockings and used the scissors to cut away the crutch of the now-exposed black lace panties. He then stood, grabbed the camera, and took photos around the bed. Some of her blindfolded face, a couple of her body, and some zoomed in on her crotch, moving to get different angles of her wide-open exposed fanny. He noted that she was visibly wet, with a viscus creamy-coloured liquid running down over her little brown butt hole.

He put the camera down and moved towards the door. "I can hear the phone ringing; back in a minute." He yelled.

Once outside in the hall, he checked on the children again. Neither had moved an inch; once down for the night, they never rose again before 6:00 am. Dave stood in the hall, formulating how he intended to have this play out. He was way outside his comfort zone, having never been in this situation with his supposedly prim and proper wife. Then he came up with a thought of how he could proceed. He remembered how hot Trish got when they played out the big black man roll play.

He pushed open the bedroom door and stomped into the room. Trish was just as he had left her, on her back, thighs provocatively wide, her torn stockings and panties highlighting her very wet open fanny. She twisted away from him as he moved alongside her on the bed, and he started pinching and kneading her nipples. Then with one hand gripping her neck right on the sexy black choker, he ran the other hand down between her legs.

"Dave! That's nice, but don't squeeze so hard on my neck."

"It's not your husband, ma'am. It's Sam, your lawn-mowing expert. Your husband just raced past me, saying he has been called to an urgent accident. He said he left you upstairs in a compromised condition, and could I go up and help you out."

Trish let out a quiet squeal (Conscious of the children down the hall, "Get out of the room this minute, and don't you mention this to anyone."

"No, Ma'am, I won't mention anything, but your man asked me to help you out, so I have a very good idea what he meant by that." And he resumed twisting on her nipples, with one hand, while working in the juices between her legs.

Trish gasped in surprise, "Get out of here, you black bastard. I'll call the police."

"I don't think so, you ain't going nowhere. You damn hot baby, going to make you my bitch."

He reached down underneath her skirt and dipped his fingers into her exposed cunt, collecting some of her creams, then smearing the heady liquid around her lips, then leant forward and licked, kissed, then chewed on them until they were clean. Trish put up some resistance and called him a dirty deviant bastard, but she was getting into it now and letting out more aroused groans than abuse.

Once more, he dipped two fingers deep inside her and, this time, smeared the viscus fluid around each nipple. And again he licked and chewed on these until they were clean.

Trish was visibly excited, twisting against the cords that held her tight and bucking her hips up and down, attempting to get some friction around her genitals.

"Shit yeah, Bitch! Move that booty. I've wanted a piece of you for months."

He moved up the bed, released his prick from his trousers and offered it to her mouth. "Get the big black dick in your mouth and make it real wet if you don't want it to tear you apart when I feed it to you."

Trish eagerly thrust her head over and took him in her mouth. She pulled back a bit and worked up a good quantity of saliva, then pushing hard against him, worked her mouth as far down his shaft as she could bear. Then pulling back, she gasped, "Fuck me, you big black bastard, Fuck this little white bitch hard."

He reached over, picked up the cooking oil, and smeared a good measure over each breast. It soaked into the teeshirt, turning it transparent. Then wasting no time in getting the rest of his clothes off, he positioned himself between Trish's legs. Wiping his cock up and down her slit, he teased her and waited till she started to plead with him to put it in. Only then did he thrust himself home. He was incredibly turned on himself now and not acting anymore. Working up to a steady pace, he remembered the nipple clamps that were lying by his pillow. Balancing on one hand, he kept thrusting as he clamped one nipple and then the other.

The clamps must have hurt, but there was no sign of any discomfort on Trish's face. Quite the opposite, as he flicked the clamps with his free hand, she demanded that he fucked her harder, and she arched her hips off the bed, attempting to get more of his rabid cock.

All too soon, Dave exploded deep inside her. Trish followed almost immediately. They both froze in position, attempting to catch their breath. Dave fell to his side of the bed, absolutely exhausted.

When Trish calmed down a bit, she rolled towards Dave. "Untie me, please. I'm starting to get cramp."

Dave looked over, nodded to her, and then leapt up and took some photos. Trish reacted just as he expected. Swearing at him, not too happy about being photographed, now she was out of character.

"Gee Trish! Terrible language. I might have to leave you like that for an hour or so until I'm ready to have my white bitch again." But the look she gave him said the game was over, so he hurriedly removed the blindfold and undid all his knots.

---

The weekend before the stag party, Trish, as usual, hit Dave up about letting her attend. She argued that as there was zero chance of them knowing anyone, she should be there. Dave agreed that they were unlikely to know them, but all his usual arguments were still very valid, and he explained to her about the request for having the stripper do a few extras.

"What will Silvia think about that?" Trish snapped back.

"I ran it past her, but she can't do that night, as she's out of town that weekend. Some family thing down the line somewhere. But she's arranged for her mate Anne to do it and says that if the boys offer enough money, she'll go a lot further than the blow job that Bob requested."

Trish looked sullenly at him, "It's not fair that you get to see all these things, and I have to stay at home. What if I dressed up as a man?"

Dave laughed, "You couldn't pass as a man in a month of Sundays. I'll sort something out and video what happens."

They did not own a video camera, but his mate, Gary, at the tennis club had one. Dave had already borrowed it to video their daughter's gymnastics. So the following Saturday morning, Dave hit his mate up about borrowing the camera. He asked to have it over the whole weekend, using the excuse he wanted to video his daughters again. Next, he had to think hard about where to place it. As although the video camera was small, it was not something he could just sit out in the open.

He called the hotel operations manager and asked about seeing the room they were to use, explaining he wanted to see how they would get the food to the room and what space, utensils and appliances there were. The manager offered to meet him first thing Monday morning.

As soon as he walked into the Penthouse, Dave saw where to place the camera. The living area layout was open plan. The entrance door opened into a large lounge with full-width ranch sliders opening onto a balcony. There was a kitchen/dining area around to the left. And he saw three small shelves on the end of one of the cupboards. If he placed the camera on one of these, it would have coverage of the lounge. One shelf had a vase on it; the other two were empty.

But how to disguise the video camera? On the way home, Dave dropped into an Op Shop to see if they had anything. He saw an Egyptian Vase that gave him an idea. With the vase tucked under his arm, he headed home. Then taking the video camera out to the garage, he found a small carton that the camera would fit into perfectly.