Face Up To It

When I came back to life it was to find Pam gently helping me from the seat and I looked down to see that he appeared to be in genuine distress. I was going to speak but she forestalled me. "Come into the living room. We'll give him half an hour to recover and then I want another turn."

Chapter 6

At the office I was fascinated to watch Rob when he thought that no one was looking. He had always eyed up the girls, it was almost expected of him, but now I saw how he surveyed their backsides as they walked past.

Pam had hinted, but never confirmed, that the mystery participant was a colleague and I could see his imagination at work as he tried to find a fit between what he saw and what he had experienced. He would guess, correctly, that it was someone a little less curvaceous than Pam but that did little to narrow down the options.

I was particularly amused to see him checking out Kim. She was a friend of Pam's, and probably fitted the bill, but she hailed from Nairobi and was particularly dark skinned. How frustrating must it have been not even to know the ethnic origin of his tormentress?

I found it amusing to bend over a lot more than necessary, knowing he would look, but our day to day working relationship was so far removed from his secret life that I am sure I never even entered his thoughts as a possible candidate.

The next few weeks passed uneventfully except for some rumours about an internal restructuring. Being the new girl on the block, and seemingly destined for great things, I felt that I had nothing to fear and possibly something to gain. Rob, to his credit, quietly reassured his team and particularly Mark his de facto number two.

Marks' status was in no way a reflection of his management abilities but was based purely on his position as the star bond trader. He was introspective but was possessed of a razor sharp mind. Rob brought out the best in him and was skilled in massaging his fragile ego.

I decided, nevertheless, to talk to Pam to see what she knew. The problem was that, as PA to the Human Resources Director, she was professionally very discrete.

It seemed to me that Pam was loyal to her boss above and beyond the call of duty. Dorothy Grier was the banks youngest director and almost universally disliked. It manifested itself in obvious things like the company dress code. Grier had instituted a strict set of guidelines, particularly for the female staff, specifying things like no trousers and no short skirts.

On the face of it this was both sensible and desirable. The problem was that she was not above flaunting herself and it was galling to see how the other, male, directors fawned over her. I guess that she was mid thirties but blessed with the body of a twenty year old.

Pam met me at the wine bar and, whilst it had been some time since we had seen each other socially, we were quickly at ease with one another but I sensed an underlying tension. It was a minute or two before she came out with it.

"I've moved out." "Of your own volition?" "Yes. It was fun while it lasted." "Did he find someone else?" "No. Worse than that. I guess I misjudged him. He asked me to marry him." "Oh my God!" "Its flattering I suppose but it's not what he really wants. He just doesn't know his own mind and there is certainly no love in it from my perspective."

I took a moment to digest the news and then asked. "How did he take it?" "Badly. To start with he bombarded me with telephone calls but when he realized it was for real he turned nasty. He's trying to get me fired."

"He can't do that." "Under normal circumstances, no, but it's no secret that there is going to be a cull. The senior managers are putting forward a "dead wood" list for consideration. If he wants me out he can count on Marks unquestioning support and he'll get Dorothy to sponsor it."

"Why should she?" "I shouldn't tell you this but she's on her way out. She wants to set up her own consultancy and any loyalty she has to me would be outweighed by the usefulness of Rob as a contact. Besides, they used to be an item."

I was outraged. After a hours further discussion I could still not see a solution. Pam's pay off would be generous, and she would have no trouble finding another position, but friends and colleagues made the bank like home for her.

When I got back to the office I went to see Rachel. I do not know what drew me to her in particular but I had the feeling that she would be straight with me. I asked her, hypothetically, if the procedure was as cold-blooded as Pam led me to believe.

She took a moment to consider your reply. "I've seen the list and I assume that you're referring to Pam. It's sad to say but a few people here wield a disproportionate amount of power. If Rob wants her out then it's a done deal."

"There's nothing we can do.?" "If Mark and Dorothy withdrew their support then Rob's name alone would not be enough." "Would either of them listen?"

She gave me a odd smile. "There's no love lost between Dorothy and me so I can't help there...but we may be able to influence Mark..."

She left it hanging and allowed my mind to go to work. The sudden spark of understanding shocked me and I protested. "You mustn't do anything that will harm your own position." "Look, its not common knowledge, but I'm leaving too. I'm being promoted but it involves a secondment to New York. Besides, I like Pam and getting one over on Rob would be a pleasure."

So it was that I found myself in the office car park standing by my car with a conspicuous flat tyre. Minutes later Mark, always one of the last to leave, came out of the elevator. "Problem?" "Flat tire." "Need a hand to fit the spare?" I looked sheepish. "That's flat too."

He looked at me in exasperation. "I don't do a lot of driving. I only brought the car in today to take home some study materials." I showed him two large boxes filling the boot. "Look, I don't like to ask, but I don't want to wait around here at this time of night waiting for the recovery service. Is there any chance of a lift?"

He looked really put out and I got the impression that I was keeping him from a cup of cocoa and a riveting copy of the Wall Street Journal. He was in his late twenties and I was willing to bet that he had had even less experience with women than Simon.

"Is it far?" I gave him the address and he made a point of telling me that it was out of his way before helping to move the boxes to his car. The other traders favoured two door sports but Mark drove an expensive but very utilitarian Lexus. Once outside my flat I asked him if he would be kind enough to help me with the boxes again and, for a second, I thought he was going to refuse but then, with an audible tut, he got out of the car.

As he preceded me up the stairs I noted, really for the first time, just how slight he was. He was a couple of inches shorter than me and probably weighed little more. This, taken together with the soft cast to his features, might suggest a measure of effeminacy, but I knew that he had been in a least one relationship with a girl that the bond team had unkindly dubbed "the church mouse".

I guess that he was already nervous, alone in my presence, but he almost dropped his box when he walked into my living room to find Pam and Rachel sitting there. In fairness to him they presented quite a sight. Pam was wearing a red cocktail dress which accentuated her hourglass figure and pushed up her breasts to present a quivering plateau. She was a pulchritudinous vision of womanhood and any red blooded male would have been impressed.

Rachel, by contrast, looked coolly mysterious. Her black leather trousers could have been sprayed on and a matching bolero jacket lay open to show a white blouse sheer enough to hint at the darkness of her nipples.

I was also willing to bet that Pam had helped with her make up. She had her hair brushed back from her face and held in a ponytail and this served to emphasis the darkness of her eyes which were shaded with mascara graduating from deep blue to a silver grey.

I had, until now, not appreciated how full her lips were but a blood red lipstick and contrasting lip liner gave them a "begging to be kissed" look.

A transformation had been performed and I am not even sure he immediately recognized her as Rachel. My own irrational thought was that if she had walked into a lesbian bar she would have been eaten alive.

"What's going on here?" I had to give him credit for appreciating that things were not as they seemed but I noticed that, in spite of himself, his eyes were glued to Rachel.

"Just the girls having a drink after work. Would you care to join us?" He looked terrified but he could still not tear his eyes away. "Thanks, but I have to be going." His voice caught in this throat raising it half an octave. Rachel, seeing that she was the centre of his attention, moved closer to him and ran a finger slowly down his tie. "You're not going to disappoint us are you Mark?"

He was now sufficiently worried to look back towards the door but, as he did so, Pam moved the box that he had set on the coffee table and placed it on the floor. Rachel moved even closer and, in trying to lean away, he stumbled backwards onto the table top.

Realistically the coffee table, at nearly five feet long and commensurately heavy, was too large for the room but it had lots of discreet drawer space which was a boon in a flat that was short on storage. He sat awkwardly until Rachel slinked down forcing him further back until he was almost prone. He tried to look round her to speak to me. "I've left the car on a meter. I haven't paid."

In light of what was going on around him it seemed a ludicrous thing to say and I almost burst out laughing. In the meanwhile Rachel used her weight advantage to ease him onto his back and then keep him there.

"Look, I'm flattered but I already have a girlfriend." "Marky...you wouldn't lie to me now, would you?" Even I found Helen's tone sexy and I noted, with amusement, that he was trying to ease his crotch away from her. This was made more difficult because he was unsure what to do with his arms. He did not want to put them around her and so he put his hands flat on the floor and stiffened his body unwelcomingly.

At this point Pam and I joined in, crowding and disorientating him. By the time that he realised that his arms were bound it was too late. The nylon tights that we used look innocuous but as he tugged at them he only succeeding in drawing the knots tighter.

"Look you've had your fun. I have to go." Now he was really frightened. Rachel swung a leg over him and sat astride his chest whilst she pulled at the knot of his tie. Mark was another who had not been present at the party but he, like everyone else, had heard the story.

He now began to struggle in earnest but he was no match for the three of us as we spread his legs and secured his ankles to the table legs close to the floor. "Please, I don't know what you think...I'm not into this" "Marky, don't be a spoilsport, you might enjoy it..."

My table was shorter than the one Pam had utilized at the office and his head was unsupported but the solution was at hand. My mother had bequeathed me an upholstered footstall which was supposedly a family heirloom. I hated it and generally only got it out when family members came round but now it served perfectly to keep his head up.

"What are you doing?" I enjoyed his look of anguish as I slipped a cushion under his head and then placed two others on the floor on either side of the stall.

In the meanwhile Rachel had slipped his tie free and was now slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt. "You know what's going to happen don't you Marky? It's going to be all three of us. Do you dream of having a real woman?"

She was really getting into it and I felt a moment of envy knowing on whom she had been practising. Mark, for his part, tried to thrash himself free but the nylon bindings held him fast. "Why are you doing this?"

He was astute enough to know that it had nothing to do with his desirability but this only increased his anxiety. "We'll come to that a little later. First it's time for us to have a little fun." She raised herself a little so that she could finish unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a pale, hairless, chest.

"Okay Marky, here's the question. How long can you hold your breath?" "Please! I've had enough!" "Don't be such a spoilsport. We've got all night. Are you ready?" With that she eased her way forward until she was astride his head with her knees comfortably settled on the cushions on the floor.

The leather of her trousers was so tight and so new that it creaked as she took up her position and I knew that I would have to buy a pair for myself. The way that they accentuated her taut cheeks was amazing and it was hard to resist the urge to touch.

"Stop it! Stop it now!" His words were cut short as she slowly bent her knees and enshrouded him in darkness.

He renewed his frantic struggles against the bindings but must have realized that he was using up what little air was left to him. He calmed down but there was now a constant, despairing, moaning.

I wondered if Rachel felt as aroused as I did and if the scent would penetrate the leather. When, a few seconds later, she gave a satisfied moan of her own the question was answered.

She must have kept him under for more than a minute before she relented and let him draw a breath of air. He gasped it in and was about to plead when she sealed him off again.

Over the next few minutes she repeated the process but kept the intervals irregular so that he no chance to prepare. He fought for air wherever she allowed but he was growing noticeably weaker.

I watched with rapt attention and it was Pam that alerted me to the bulge in his trousers. I had read somewhere that some animals, when cornered in the wild, will often show signs of one final attempt to ensure the survival of their genes and I wondered if it was a measure of his fear rather than arousal.

Finally Rachel got up altogether to reveal his punished features. I saw that he had his eyes closed as if it were all a nightmare that he could make go away. "Now Marky, we can make this easy or hard. If you're a naughty boy I'll just leave these on and we can carry on for the rest of the night but if you're good..."

As she said this she unsnapped the fastening at the belt of her trousers and I could see that he was trying to work out which was the lesser of two evils. She started to peel down the tight zip but stopped after a couple of inches. "Have you fantasized about this? Do you sit there in the office wondering what I look like naked?"

I had seen nothing to suggest that he was fixated on Rachel in any particular way but he was almost shaking with fear suggesting that, in one way or another, she had touched a raw nerve.

"I'm not sure you deserve that particular treat just yet." So saying she reached for the sleep mask that she had asked me to prepare and, ignoring his protests she slipped it over his eyes.

The new zip made a loud rasping sound as she opened it all the way and then she sloughed them off like a second skin before she shed the remainder of her clothing.

He could not see but he could hear enough to know that there was a naked female, and a beautiful one at that, standing over him. His reaction was to try and cower away but he had little room for manoeuvre.

"Please don't..." He knew it was a plea made in vain and the defeat could be heard in his voice but I could not help but wonder if, deep down, this was something he had dreamt about, something he secretly welcomed.

"Let me see your tongue." Pam and I drew close to see his reaction which was a stubborn refusal but Rachel was unperturbed. Her tight sex had already opened just a little to reveal the neat fronds of her inner lips and she proceeded to brush them against the tip of his nose.

He turned his head, trying to get away, but, at the same time, I sensed a curiosity about him. "Keep still or I might have to get dressed again and you certainly wouldn't like me then."

His fear of painful asphyxiation overcame his loathing and he turned back but this time she played herself over his clamped lips. She was in no hurry and he left himself with no choice other than to breath through his nose.

She began to exploit this by gently rubbing her clitoris and allowing her sex to bloom a little more. I could smell her excitement from feet away so how must it have been for him breathing it from the source.

We had set out with no clear plan. Once we broached the idea to Pam she and Rachel attuned to one another like long lost sisters. There was an unspoken agreement that we would all take our part but now that I could see that he was as new to this as we thought I wished that it had been me to break him in for the first time.

Rachel's sex began to weep moisture and she allowed the droplets to fall onto his closed lips where they found out the tiniest fissures and, slowly and inexorably, the invasion of his mouth began.

He started to swallow hard, trying to deny the taste, but the full richness of it was slowly overwhelming him.

When Rachel next spoke her voice was not quite as well modulated. "Are you going to lick me Marky or do you want me to come on your face?"

I think that fear of the unknown froze him. His eyes opened wider as she finally lost patience and she began to rub herself on him. She leaned backwards and would not have looked out of place with a stetson in her hand as she ground her sex into his face.

For all her appearance of being in control she was obviously deeply aroused and seemed determined to climb towards a quick, powerful, orgasm.

With his mouth still closed he began to whimper but that only fuelled her cruelty as she began to move ever faster. I am sure he wished that he had cooperated but, what he did not know, but I knew with certainty, was that, before the night was out, he was going to be licking her to a climax one way or another.

"Yesss!" Her voice was shrill, joyous and unashamed as she came to rest only jerking now and then as the receding waves rocked her in their retreat.

When she finally climbed off of him he looked stupefied. The sleep mask had become dislodged in her frenzy and he stared at her sex in terrified fascination.

Spent for now, she slumped in the armchair, and Pam wordlessly expressed her consent for me to go next. I was more grateful than she would know. It had been some weeks since the last time and Rachel's performance already had me hot and bothered.

I quickly stripped out of my work clothes and I surprised myself with the ease with which I was prepared to expose myself to the others but there was more to it. I wanted to see that look in his eyes. That mix of rampant fear and undiluted lust for a body that he could never hope to know in a conventional way.

"No more...it's not fair." "Don't be ungrateful. You, alone with three goddesses what more could a boy want?"

I picked up the psychological assault where Rachel had left off but once I was astride his face it was hard to stay in control. After all, if she was going to take another turn then why not me. "So what's it to be? Your tongue? Or do you want me to ride your face?"

I think that he was too shell shocked to make any sort of decision and in an effort to encourage him I massaged his face with my sex but that only increased my arousal. In some perverted manner it was an excitement born of knowing that I was rubbing myself in Rachel's juices and somewhere well to the back of my mind I wondered if I could ever make love with another woman.

"Please...stop." "You know what you have to do."

I eased up from him and his face was a picture of misery. Rachel's sex probably met his expectations, based on a schoolboy knowledge of anatomy, but mine with its proud labia accented by a neat dressing of blonde fur presented him with a new level of realism.