Facing The Consequences

"Please, you'll be doing me a favour. One or two of the guests have recognized you."

It was true. He was aware of a couple of groups discretely nodding in his direction. His reputation may have faded but he still liked having his ego stroked and he decided that he would stay for one glass.

In the event he stayed a lot longer. Women were introduced and he regaled them with stories of his glory days; two of them even asked for autographs. One woman seemed particularly enamoured. She was a little older than the rest, somewhere in her forties, and a football enthusiast. She looked good for her age and obviously went to some expense to maintain her appearance. As she talked to him it was obvious that she had had a lot to drink and she became very touchy-feely.

As time went on it the wine flowed freely and he felt himself getting just a little light headed. In fact the only person in the room who appeared fully in control was Susan as she wandered from group to group ever the consummate professional.

At some stage he had lost his jacket and tie and he was taken by surprise when the older woman suddenly slipped her hand inside his shirt. He moved away and laughed it off but he could see that the poor male models had now become fair game. Some of the women were now pawing them and he even thought that he saw a hand dipped into a pouch.

Susan, ever aware, immediately began to wind things up. Pam seemed disappointed but people were gently encouraged to leave and Susan unfastened the lads from their bindings.

There were just a few hardier drinkers left when she came and spoke to him.

"Can you hold the fort? I'm going to take the boys upstairs and show them where they can get showered and then I'll organize some taxis for them."

Happy to play the genial host he joined the remaining guests who had gathered around the rack. He found out later that Susan's company was doing some P.R. work for a film company and she had been able to call in a favour from the props department.

"I want a photo!"

The older woman had produced a camera phone which she handed to Pam as she draped herself on his shoulder. Pam stood back to frame the shot but then had an idea.

"Lie down."

He looked at the rack dubiously but they all began to egg him on and, not wishing to appear a spoilsport, he climbed into the frame.

"Take your shirt off, let's make it look authentic."

He cursed Pam, thinking this was a step too far, but willing hands were already undoing his buttons. He smiled with as much good grace as he could muster and laid himself down anxious to get it over with.

The frame was constructed of rough timber and proved extremely uncomfortable and the more so when they insisted on fastening his wrists in the leather cuffs. Over the next minute or two they all took their turn standing over him whilst photographs were taken.

"Just one more."

It was the older woman who had spoken and, as she came to stand beside him once more, she deftly slipped her hand under his waistband and into his trousers.

"Hey stop that!"

He tried to keep it playful but she made no move to remove her hand which was now worming its way into his under shorts causing an unwanted stirring.

"Come on, enough's enough."

"Are you sure? Someone seems to be enjoying it."

Her warm fingers now had hold of his manhood which, despite his protestations, was quickly coming to erection.

"Don't hog him. Let's all see."

Other fingers began to tug at the zip on his trousers.

"Come on. Let me up. My wife will be back in a moment."

He smiled but there was a definite edge to his tone and then Pam moved into view. Any past feelings apart he was glad to see her. It was her event and she would bring a sense of order to the proceedings.

She looked down at him and then, with an odd smile on her face, she turned to the women gathered round.

"I need to go upstairs to have a word with Susan...I may be a little while."

He looked at her in disbelief as she walked away leaving him at the tender mercies of the drunken harpies.

"Pam! Get back here!"

He was almost drowned out by a cacophony of jeering laughter and then he felt hands on his legs.

He should have kicked out but some ingrained sense of good manners would not let him strike a woman and he tried once again to laugh it off.

"Look, you've had your fun, now let's not spoil it."

His ankles were now secured in the same way as his wrists but there was still plenty of play in the restraints until someone playfully decided to turn the wheel. At first there was no obvious effect, just a loud theatrical clacking as, somewhere beneath him, a ratchet was engaged but then he began to feel an inexorable pressure.

"Stop that! It's not funny!"

His anger only served to fuel their devilment and the woman at the wheel, encouraged by the others, gave it another turn.

He tried to resist the pull but it was fruitless. The device may only have been a prop but, mechanically, it was ruthlessly efficient. Within seconds he was stretched almost painfully tight and it took him a moment to realize that the older woman still had her hand deep in his crotch and that he was now fully erect.

"Stop fucking about!"

Since his playing days he rarely swore, and never in front of women, but he decided to shock them back to sobriety.

For a second or two there was an awkward silence but then the older woman broke the tension with her next cackling remark.

"Are you telling us you're not enjoying it?"

The others laughed with her as she freed her hand and then grabbed hold of the waistband of his trousers. Without warning she wrenched both his trousers and his under shorts midway down his thighs.

There was a collective gasp as his erection was revealed and, almost immediately he felt hands begin to stroke him.

He was proud of his manhood, which he knew to be slightly longer than average and thick in proportion, but to have these women treat him as though he were a piece of meat sickened him. He jerked violently, to the extent that his restraints would allow but that was not much at all.

"He's getting too excited."

"I'll calm him down."

It was the older woman who had spoken. From somewhere she had acquired another glass of wine and, holding it carefully, she climbed up onto the frame. For a second or two she stood over him unsteadily but then she knelt down straddling his chest.

She was no heavyweight but she was pressing down onto his lungs which were already expanded by the position he was in and when he cursed her it was with difficulty.

"Get off me you bitch."

She remained unmoved and looking down at him she raised her glass before taking a sip.

A more knowing hand had now taken hold of his erection and it only now occurred to him that they might want to see him come. The movements of the unseen fingers were slow and purposeful and notwithstanding his predicament he felt himself responding.

They were a lot quieter now and the older woman decided that she did not want to miss the fun.

"Wait a minute. I want to see."

With an effort she gained her feet but, as she turned round, she stumbled and fell heavily onto his face. Without thinking she immediately tried to get up but a fresh chorus of cheers made her pause.

"Does he like it under there?"

Her woolen skirt was draped over his head and the voice seemed to come from afar. In response to the question she wriggled herself bearing down more heavily in the process.

"Who could resist me?"

Her panties covered his face and their satiny texture suggested expensive tastes but, just then, all he could focus on was the fact that they were disgustingly damp.

He began to struggle again but it availed him nothing. She kept her place and even made herself more comfortable. After a few seconds he calmed down but now he was hot and breathing hard.

The hand holding his erection had remained still whilst he struggled but, as soon as he relaxed, it found its former tantalizing rhythm.

"Make him come!"

He was, more than ever, determined to resist them, he was damned if he was going to come for their amusement, but he now felt his balls cradled in a warm palm whose owner knew her business.

He was on the point of surrender when the same woman who had wanted to see him come interceded once more.

"Wait! If he's getting his jollies then our friend here should too."

There was brief moment of hesitant silence and then a renewed chorus of encouraging cheering which reached a peak as the woman on his face stood up once more.

He took the opportunity to fill his lungs and prepared to make another entreaty but he could see that they were all gripped in wine-fuelled frenzy and he knew that nothing he said was going to deter them.

Above him the woman had raised her skirt theatrically and, in a poor imitation of a stripper, she eased her panties over her hips and he could do nothing but watch as they slid down her bare legs to fall on his face.

He tried to shake them free but she opened her legs slightly and stretched them between her ankles. He had no choice but to breathe through them and his audience found this highly amusing.

He had had enough and he prepared to bellow as loud as he could to attract Susan's attention. The cellar was deep and he knew that if she was on the first floor there was little chance of her hearing him but his tormenters did not know that.

He made ready but, just then, she carefully slipped one foot out her panties and then flicked them on to the floor. He found himself staring at her sex and was surprised to see that it was immaculately depilated.

It seemed so incongruous; despite her obvious excitement her womanhood was almost childlike. The smooth mound, with its clam-tight slit, looked shy, as though it did not want to face the world but he guessed that she was a woman of some experience.

The thoughts were barely formed before she bent her knees and unceremoniously dropped herself onto his face once more. Even as they cheered he shook his head violently but her thighs limited his range of movements and they simply assumed that he was cooperating excitedly.

He quickly found that he was mistaken about the nature of her sex. As her weight bore down it spread over his mouth with an unexpected pliability and wetness but, worse still, as she rode out his struggles his nose was pinched closed and breathing suddenly became very difficult.

He forced himself to be calm.

"How's his tongue?"

"I think he's shy."

"Well let's give him a bit of encouragement. Take hold of him."

The warm hand working his shaft relinquished its grip and was immediately replaced by someone with a less subtle touch. At the same time he felt has balls being gently kneaded and then a single finger began to brush against the bulb of his manhood.

He was in no doubt that it was the same woman who had hold of him before. She rubbed him in a gentle circular motion moving from the very tip and then down and over his sensitive frenum.

His body stiffened and he felt himself on the edge of a spectacular orgasm but she kept him at the brink refusing to let him go. The strain made him sweat and in the following moments he felt himself growing breathless.

Such air as he could draw was warm, moist and impregnated with the smell of sex. He was slowly becoming light headed and he knew there was only one thing he could do.

"Oh God!"

Her body stiffened as he put out his tongue and plunged it deep inside her.

"He's doing it!"

She raised herself slightly to give him freer access and he was able to breathe more easily but she was leaking copiously and it was cloying at the back of his throat. He began to lick more purposefully not only to get it over with but also to encourage his unseen tease to bring him the relief he now so desperately needed.

Above him the woman leant forward slightly to make her clitoris available to him and he tried to oblige but, trapped as he was, he could only lick as she presented herself. He flicked his tongue and it seemed to have the desired effect. Her body began to shake and he could hear her beginning to moan.

He was a hairs breadth from coming himself but the finger was now moving tantalizingly slowly causing his body to stiffen in anticipation. He found that he was panting and this was enough to finish her off. She ground herself on his face, trapping his tongue, as she tried, unsuccessfully, to restrain her cries of ecstasy.

It was over mercifully quickly but he was angered as the others applauded her effort whilst he was still left unfulfilled.

She climbed off of him, helped by the others, and retrieved her underwear. He was then able to raise his head to establish the identity of his tormentress and was surprised to find that it was Rhona, a woman he had been introduced to for the first time that afternoon.

He had guessed that she was of Indian extraction, but it seemed impolite to ask, and she stood out as a plump specimen amongst this enclave of image conscious, power dressed, women. He had been told that, despite appearances, she was highly regarded in the marketing community.

Her face had appeared the picture of innocence, and he had assumed a certain naiveté, but the part she had played, and the skill she had demonstrated, had him thinking again. He had put her age somewhere in the mid twenties but now he wondered.

As he looked at her she gave him a mocking smile, flashing a set of almost too perfect teeth, and then she teased her finger over the head of his still fierce erection.

He gave a gasp as she paused, holding him in stasis, and then she looked away from him and addressed the others.

"Who's next?"

He could not believe what he had heard and he sensed a general unease amongst his captors. They were all a little drunk but there was still a lot of sexual tension in the air. If they stopped now it could be laughed off as a prank but if they took it further it might be construed as an assault. Added to all that was the fact that his wife was still upstairs and might return at any moment but he suspected that it was the excitement that that possibility afforded that shaped events.

"I'll take a turn."

She was the youngest person in the room, an elfin blonde with beautiful icy blue eyes, and it was she who currently had a firm grip on his shaft.

Unlike the others she was casually dressed in a tee-shirt and designer jeans but it was an expensively cultivated look. Even her hair, which was cut short and sculpted into a series of spikes looked fashionably unkempt but was suggestive of high maintenance. Pam had introduced her earlier in the afternoon as the new magazines layout artist.

He began to protest but then lay transfixed. The blonde, in an alarming display of self-confidence, unbuttoned her jeans and then slowly pulled down the zip. The rasping sound cut through the tense silence and she looked happy at the effect she had created. She kicked off her trainers and then slowly peeled the tight denim down her legs.

Notwithstanding his predicament he could not help but stare. She stood in just her tee shirt, a white thong and a pair of white ankle socks. With her lightly tanned skin she looked extremely young but she exuded a maturity beyond her years.

He sensed a hint of envy amongst the others but he was given no time for contemplation. One moment she was standing beside him but then she sprang gracefully up onto the rack.

His heart was pounding as she now stood over him, hands on hips, and he could see that her thong was damply discoloured. As he looked he again became aware of his erection and the fact that Rhona had taken up where she left off with her wicked fingers.

He found himself arching his body, willing her to finish it, but she read him so easily.

His breathing grew ragged and the young woman took this as her cue. She took off her thong and then went to her knees straddling his face.

He was immediately reminded of her name and it would stay with him indelibly. It was Wanda and the reminder came from her short blonde pubic hair which was perfectly shaved into a letter "W".

She gave him a second or two to admire her artistic handiwork and then she lowered herself pinning his shoulders with her knees. Her pink inner labia were protuberant, and formed part of her design, but as she came to rest they spread over his mouth with an audible squelch.

Warm moisture oozed from her as she made herself comfortable and, deliberately or otherwise, she was positioned in such away that his nostrils were pressed closed by her pubic bone.

He had no choice but to breathe through his mouth accepting her leakage. The taste was strong, pungent, and somehow seemed at odds with her weight and colouring but it was clear that she had been aroused for some time.

He remained as still as he could, determined not to give in to her, and still desperately hoping that Susan would return but Rhona had other ideas. She extended one finger of the hand that was cradling his sac and gently massaged his perineum. He thought that he had reached the threshold before but she was able to take him to new limits.

His body bowed as if charged with electricity and Wanda was totally in tune.

"If you want to come you know what you have to do..."

He hated her but his own urge for fulfilment was almost primal. She shifted fractionally to accept his tongue which he presented like an automaton.

There was no finesse; he lay there rigid with anticipation as she squeezed his tongue with the supple muscles of youth. In the end she grew bored with his lack of animation and she simply began to ride his face scratching at his skin with her razored furze.

He tried to shake his head to express his anger but Rhona squeezed him so that he was held poised somewhere between pain and pleasure. He was breathing like a long distance runner as Wanda worked herself towards her inevitable climax and, as she started to come, Rhona finally granted him relief.

She took away her hands and stroked at the head of his penis with just a single finger. It took only a few seconds. Her touch was so light as to be almost imperceptible but it drew him on and then, at the very moment, she stepped away from him altogether.

The others gave a loud cheer and so he knew he had come but he felt detached from it. The usual exultation was not there and his body was telling him he had been cheated.

Wanda was still on his face savouring the aftershocks of her own intense orgasm but he was desperately trying to understand what had been done to him. He was conscious of his flagging erection and the final limp pulses but there was a complete lack of satisfaction. She had, somehow, milked him whilst denying him the ultimate pleasure.

He was still trying to come to terms with it as Wanda lifted herself away from him and proceeded to get dressed. He even looked down his body to the sticky matted mess of his pubic hair as if to convince himself.

Rhona, was now perceived as the leader of the group; the others deferred to her and not one of them made a move to release him. She stood, the centre of attention, and after a pause she spoke.

"Are there any more takers?"

One or two of them looked visibly surprised, his climax having seemed to provide a natural end to the proceedings, but, now that the seed was planted, he could see them having second thoughts. In the end no one plucked up the courage. The fact that Susan had been gone for some time obviously had a bearing and he waited with angry impatience to be freed.

Rhona looked around once last time and shrugged her shoulders.

"Well I guess it's just me then."

He watched, as stunned as the others, as she slipped off her shoulder straps and allowed her dress to fall to the floor. Amongst the gathering of the honed and toned she was something altogether different. She was carrying weight but it was in all the right places.