Eighty One - Laura's Story Pt. 06

Prior to that point she had been an item put on display for the viewing public. Being displayed before a selected few seemed more of an ordeal, mainly as she had become a tactile exhibit and the selected guests were allowed, encouraged even, to fondle and maul as much as they liked.

She kept very still, holding her position as she allowed the strangers to handle her body to satisfy their own perverted pleasure. It would be unfair to say she endured the treatment for the sake of earning the bishop—she secretly welcomed it. It satisfied her own selfish motives. The deep need she had always been aware of but kept hidden was surfacing and its power took her by surprise.

It occurred to her how much she had changed since the adventure began. How easily and comfortably she had slipped into the role she was being 'forced' to play. But the real revelation had been Andrew and how he had so readily joined them in subjecting her to such degrading scenes. She should be disturbed by that thought, not grateful. Their new roles seemed to work for both of them, and with mutual benefits. The worrying factor was the speed at which it had all happened. Already she had been given away for use by other men and been physically punished. It was easy to forget that she was still in the early stages of recovering the pieces. How far would things go from that point, she wondered, and where would it all end up? Would she be able to handle it if things continued to escalate at such a rapid rate? What else would she be expected to go through? The unknown future scared her and fear in that context was like an aphrodisiac to her. She yearned for more, eager to find out what her dark future held. But she could analyse her depravity some other time, when the other Laura returned. The one on the dais just wanted them to get on with whatever it was they had in store for her, eager to find out how far she would be taken.

Her reaction to the continuous probing and fondling of her body confused her. The culprits were, she was sure, mainly men but from the corner of her eye she saw at least one woman caress her breast. She was also sure that she felt sharp nails probe at her rear openings. Women handling her she could accept, it was the look on their faces as they judged her she found hard to tolerate. Not all of them by any means, one smiled and looked almost envious but another looked critical, obviously disapproving of Laura's lewd display. She wondered what the woman would like to do to her given the chance, chastise her for her wicked behaviour? The thought brought about a further increase in the flow rate she was desperately trying to stem.

She saw the legs and shoes of a couple who stopped in front of her; they stood much closer than previous observers. An expensive looking pair of brogues and the red high heels. Her pulse quickened, her eyes remained downcast. The talking had stopped and the room fell silent. She knew the time had arrived when she would pay for the bishop.

A hand gripped her ponytail and pulled hard forcing her to look up at her abuser. The woman smiled, not in an unpleasant way, more to display her confidence. Laura watched as the other hand lowered the zip on the man's flannel trousers. He had come prepared Laura noticed: no underwear. Gripping him tightly the lady struggled to withdraw his impressive erection through the small opening. The hand gripping the ponytail pulled Laura's head sharply forward. The erect cock rubbed the side of her face and she felt a drop of moisture on her cheek. Laura noticed the immaculate nails of the slim hand holding the erection, the deep red polish as smooth as glass. The same hand then guided it to Laura's lips. "Open," was all she said.

Laura felt the sweat forming on her temples and one or two drops trickled down the side of her face. She had been forced to carry out the same task before, in Devon, and god forbid, in the office. Both situations had granted some degree of privacy. Doing it in front of witnesses took things to a new level. The thought of performing in front of a crowd, her husband included, filled her with horror. There was no shame though, shame is very personal and the anonymity of the hood nullified it. No, she had an unwarranted crisis of confidence. Would she be as good as his companion? What if she couldn't satisfy him?

Her temperature rose and the sweat flowed. Pull yourself together she told herself, you've done this hundreds of times without complaint and never failed to please. The hand pulled harder at the ponytail until tears formed in her eyes. As her mouth opened the erection slid in. He felt so different from Andrew, shorter but thicker, stretching her jaw wider. The hand let go of her hair and the woman stood behind the man, her arms round his waist, they were certainly sharing the experience.

Laura pulled her head back until she felt her lips on the rim then curled her tongue round the head before taking his length back into her mouth. He moaned. Success. She slowly ran her tongue along the soft ridge on the underside before repeating the sequence. The approval materialised as soft moans and grunts from him and encouraging words from his companion. Laura took him as deeply into her mouth as she could and held it there until the urge to breath took over. She continued to work on him with long slow strokes of lips and tongue desperately waiting for the tell tale signs that would prepare her for the salty gush of sperm.

It never came. He withdrew his erection from her mouth. She looked up in panic before relief set in as she watched him walk behind her. The smiling lady crouched down and held Laura's face in her hands, using her thumbs to gently caress her cheeks.

Strong hands gripped Laura's waist, then, without warning she felt the violent thrust as her forced himself into her. The first thought to cross her mind was,'that's not fair', he could have made her break the cotton. As he withdrew then began the second thrust Laura pushed back to meet him, desperate to balance his movements and keep her body as still as possible. To the unaware in the audience her actions could be mistaken for desperation, so forcefully did she meet his strokes. She hoped it wouldn't prove to be a futile expense of energy. After no more than a dozen powerful strokes he was done, spent. He withdrew from the convulsing opening leaving her cruelly unsatisfied.

The lady leaned forward to kiss Laura's forehead before letting go of her face and standing up. The man rejoined her, still making the final adjustments to his clothing. From his pocket he withdrew a shiny black bishop and placed it on the floor in front of Laura. She couldn't prevent a smile but held back the shout of glee.

The people quickly dispersed, their entertainment over. Laura was left in position wondering how long she would have to remain firmly restrained by the cotton and her determination. The evidence left behind by the stranger slowly ran down the inside of her thighs in full view of anybody who cared to look. She was at ease with them observing her immorality, she just hoped that next time it would last a little longer.

23

As she descended the stairs Laura heard Andrew talking on the phone. She didn't intentionally eavesdrop on peoples conversations but once it became obvious that he was talking to Graham Weston she did slow her pace and picked up a few snippets. "...she will?" "...tomorrow?" "...I'm sure she will, yes, you just see." It wasn't the most informative eavesdropping she had ever done.

She caught Andrew's eye as she entered the kitchen. "She's here now, yes. Had a lie in." There was a pause while he listened. "Graham said to pass on his thanks for helping Julie out at the gallery, said you looked great and he apologizes for having to rush off before the end." Laura rolled her eyes and went over to make coffee. "She said thank you for the compliment." Laura shook her head in disbelief as Andrew finished the call.

"What did he really want? I'm sure it wasn't to compliment me."

"He was finding out whether you had the bishop. He seemed genuinely pleased actually."

"Oh good, as long as he's happy we can all sleep well. And what will 'she' be doing tomorrow, whoever 'she' is?"

"What?" Andrew looked puzzled.

"He was telling you something about tomorrow and you were 'sure she would'."

"Oh, that. Just business stuff. So, what do you want to do today, where shall we go to celebrate?" He held her from behind and slipped his hands inside her bathrobe, caressing her body. "Unless you'd rather stay here and we put this body to good use." His lecherous behaviour put her mind at rest. He still wanted her. He was always more randy when he was in a good mood. She knew they had talked it through and agreed that whatever happened would not come between them but she still liked the confirmation now and again.

"Didn't you have enough last night?" she asked.

They had been the last people to leave the gallery. They were both quiet in the taxi during the ride home. The things that had been done to her, which she eagerly went along with at the time, had aroused her, immensely if she were honest. But sitting in the taxi, just the two of them, signalled the return to normal life, if there was such a thing any more. Thoughts of what had happened left her cold, the arousal had turned to regret and shame. He had held her hand as she worried. Since the venture started she had kept nothing from him, telling him the details of all the encounters but that was the first time he had been there. The first time he had actually seen his wife being used.

Then he broke the silence. Whispering in her ear to avoid the driver hearing. "Did you enjoy being raped as much as I enjoyed watching it?"

"Perhaps." She said quietly.

"Well I think it's my turn now, don't you?" Her head shot round.

"Here, now?"

"Of course not," he said laughing, "even you're not that sluttish yet. As soon as we get home though you can get cleaned up and show me how much it turned you on."

Whether it was being left unsatisfied at the gallery or Andrews insatiable lust for her she didn't know, or care for that matter, the sex that night was better than ever.

His hands continued their exploration inside the bathrobe. "So, how shall we celebrate then? Shall I take you out to lunch or maybe we could do some flea markets, see what we can find."

"Shouldn't we go to church if were celebrating finding the bishop?"

"Oh no, I doubt they'd let you in. Anyway that's not the celebration. That was only a matter of time. No, we're celebrating you crossing a line and laying the foundation stone for your future. Come on, let's get going."