Freebie Ch. 04

He was sitting next to me, and he turned and asked,

"Do you remember saying you felt you owed Trav a favour on the night of that first dance contest?"

"Yes. But I'm sure by now he knows how grateful I was."

"That's as maybe, but you also said you owed Peter a favour, and if I remember rightly you actually offered to let him take you to bed."

"So what if I did? That was weeks ago."

"And being as I'm your husband, don't you think that gives me the right to have sex with you?"

"Look Gerry! What's all this leading up to?"

"Its like this, before that old bloke Alan came across to our table, we'd already disgust the idea of giving you a bit a of a gang bang."

"Who disgust? And why wasn't I even asked anything about it?"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist. We were just about to see what you thought of the idea, when the old bloke came up and tried to buy you for the night."

"Well I'd have said no."

"Why?"

"I'm surprised you have to ask. What makes you think I'd agree to letting the three of you do that to me?"

"Well you seemed pretty happy with two men fucking you at the same time, why should one more be any different?"

I didn't answer, but as I sat there thinking, I came to the conclusion maybe he was right; what difference would one more man make. It was then we arrived at Trav's home, and we let him out of the car. It only took a few minutes more before Gerry and I were dropped off at our house. As we lay in bed together, after making love, I turned and asked him,

"Do you want me to have sex with Peter and Trav?"

"Well you've already given Peter the offer, so if he feels he wants to take you up on it, it would be wrong to back out now. And you and Trav are getting on well at that dancing lark, so I just thought, it might keep him keen. And even I'll admit, both Peter and Graham hit the nail on the head when they said no one man could keep up with your needs in bed."

I didn't know whether to take that last comment as a slur, and I said,

"Are you saying I'm a nymphomaniac?"

"No. But let's face it; you don't get as excited when we have sex on our own as you do when there are other men involved."

"Maybe not. But that isn't because I don't love you."

"Nobody said it was. But you know you get more pleasure when you're really excited?"

"I still like our love making best."

"Maybe in one way you do, but I've never made you cum the way you do when you are with other men. Is it because my dick isn't big enough?"

"No. You're plenty man enough for me. It's just, I don't know; maybe the danger, or wickedness of doing it with someone you shouldn't."

"Please don't think I'm a slut. But when I'm out with one of these men who've paid all that money, even before they touch me, my body is on fire. Its not love. It's something to do with knowing I'm not in control. They've paid, and I can't refuse; no matter what kind of sexual act they want to perform. So by the time they do touch me, I just loose control. It's almost like it's not me. Like I'm an actress, just playing a part. Oh I can't explain."

"So if it isn't you? And you know you'll get aroused and enjoy it. Why don't you like the thought of letting the three of us gang bang you?"

I thought long and hard, not knowing if I dare tell him the truth. Then I said,

"If I tell you, promise you won't think badly of me?"

"I can't promise that. But now you've said that much, you have to tell me what you mean."

"I don't like it when you're in the room, because you'll see how I behave. I know I go berserk, but I don't feel ashamed in front of someone else. Whereas in front of you, I feel I'm letting you down."

"Ok I'll be honest with you. That time when I watched you with Graham, and he thought he was humiliating me, wanting me to join in. I was so turned on watching you; I couldn't wait to get at you. You weren't my wife, and like you've just said; I wasn't me. It was weird, but I enjoyed fucking you more that time than any other time I can ever remember."

We both held each other and kissed until we drifted off to sleep.

I guess it's about time to bring the tale of my downfall to a close, the little gang bang was organised, and took place. And I'd be telling a lie if I said I hadn't enjoyed it. And I'm sure all three of my studs also had a good time. Over the next few months leading up to the TV appearance, I saw both Alan and Francis several times, and as Gerry had predicted, they always paid well. None of these sessions with Alan included his wife, and all of them followed broadly the same direction as my first meeting with him. Not all of them involved going dancing, but on every occasion, we dined in public, and he behaved as one would expect a real gentleman to behave. My relationship with him is still on going, some seven years on, and he is still one of my favourite clients.

Francis kept up his pretence of me being his daughter for nearly three years, and in all that time he never so much as put his hand on my breasts, or up my skirt. I did however get into a situation one night when out with him, and after that, he never contacted Peter again. Well if he did, it wasn't to solicit my services. The incident happened one evening, while we were staying the weekend with friends of his in a big country house. This was quite normal for his sessions, and usually he'd just be bathing in the reflected glory he perceived came from his daughter (me), once being a dancer on TV, and the half-a-dozen or so adverts I'd later appeared in.

This weekend, one of the other guests, the house owner's son, had been hitting on me all evening, and I could tell Francis didn't like me getting this kind of attention. I did my best to keep the gentleman at a distance, without causing offence. These were upper-class gatherings, and I could hardly just tell him to go and take a running jump. It was somewhere around eleven in the evening, and I was returning from a visit to the bathroom. As I walked along the hallway, and just before I emerged into the large central reception hall, a door to my left side opened, and out stepped Jason. This was the man I'd just mentioned, the house owner's son; a man in his mid thirties.

He had almost jumped from the room, and stood motionless directly in front of me. I froze for a second, and then stepped sideways to my right as I said,

"Oops. I'm sorry, I nearly bumped into you."

He didn't speak, and his face didn't show any sign of emotion, but as I'd moved, the door to my right opened, and Ian, one of Jason's friends stepped out, blocking my escape in that direction.

I tried to make light of the situation, and again said,

"Oops. Silly me. I seem to be getting in everybody's way."

Jason spoke, calmly and slowly,

"Can we interest you in a game of billiards?"

This wasn't the kind of comment I'd expected, and I just answered with the first thing that came into my head,

"Err. No, I don't think so. For one thing, I've no idea how to play, and anyway, I'm no good with games that involve balls."

"That does surprise me. But even if you're no good, surely as a guest in my house, you'll indulge me by letting me show you how the game is played?"

I felt as if saying no would be tantamount to an insult, so reluctantly, I turned and walked into the room on my left, the one Jason had just stepped out from.

The room was well lit, but the big green covered table in the middle of the room had its own set of lighting, and it almost glowed. Around the room were four more men, all about the same age as Jason, and as I entered, they all began to gather around the big table. As Jason and Ian entered behind me, Ian closed the door, and ominously, I then saw him turning the key, obviously making sure they weren't going to get disturbed. Jason picked up on the look of concern on my face.

"Don't look so worried, he's left the key in the lock, so its not you who is being locked in, just unwanted guests who are being locked out."

Then one of the others, whose name I didn't know quipped,

"Maybe that's why she's worried. Maybe she wants her daddy to hold her hand while she plays with your balls."

Jason then looked my way and asked,

"Are you going to do that for me?"

I could tell he was trying to embarrass what he thought was a naïve unmarried daddy's girl. And although it was obvious to me what balls he was talking about, I still felt I had to keep in character. After all, I was being paid handsomely by Francis to do just that. So I tried to answer according to my character,

"I think your friend is right. Even though I know I won't be any good at this game, I bet daddy will be able to show me how to play."

This brought a general round of laughter, as if they all thought me to be very gullible.

Jason said,

"No need for daddy's help, let me explain the basic idea. You see on the table three balls."

"Yes."

"And you see at each corner, and one each side, there are holes; six in all."

"Yes. It's the same as the snooker table on the TV. Pot Black."

"Good girl. Yes the table is the same, but snooker is played by the hoypaloy. Billiards is a refined gentleman's game."

"I see."

One of the other men then interjected with,

"Looks like she'll learn quite quickly."

Jason continued,

"So up to now, we've got balls, and holes."

Now at this point he took hold of a cue from the rack on the wall, and held it by the pointed end,

"This end has a tip, and it is this end that hits the ball."

Then he swivelled the cue around, and held it by the thick end, about a couple of foot along its shaft. Then with his other hand, he used his first finger and thumb to circle the shaft, as if he was about to wank it. And as he began to slowly slide his hand back and forth along this thick end, he continued,

"This is the end you hold, it's called the shaft. Now remember that. It's important."

Then he placed the cue on the table, and as he turned back towards me,

"So all clear then? You know how to play now?"

"Well not really, what is the idea of the game? Which ball do I hit, and which one do I try to get in the holes?"

Ian was stood on the other side of me, and he said,

"Maybe this game is a bit too difficult for her. Why not try the simplified version?"

Jason then asked,

"Would you prefer that?"

I just wanted to get this all over with, and thinking that by now, Francis would be wondering where I'd got to; I replied,

"I think that might be a good idea."

"Ok for this version of the game, we just use one hole. And there will be lots of balls, but all you do with them is to hold them, two at a time. Ok?"

Now stupidly I actually believed he was really describing a game on the table, but I still couldn't think what the object of the game was, so I asked.

"Ok, I hold the balls two at a time, does it matter which hand I use?"

"No, use either or both."

"And then what?"

"You remember I told you about the shaft?"

"Yes."

Then thinking it might impress him, and still not realising what his game was, I said,

"It's the thick end of that stick on the table."

"Good girl. Now for the point of the game. All of us men have a shaft and two balls; we'll hold our shafts in our hands, and you'll be up on the table."

He didn't pause here, but it was at this point I began to smell a rat.

"As we circle in front of you, you can then choose who will be the first one to put his shaft in the hole, while you hold his balls."

Even though I knew my character might have been innocent enough to wonder what on earth they were talking about, I certainly wasn't. But I didn't know how to react. What would Francis want me to do?

I decided to try to follow little miss gullible as far as I could, even though I knew either way, I'd have to take a gang fucking, or cause a major upheaval. So acting like an idiot, I asked,

"How do I get onto the table?"

Nobody answered with words, but I suddenly had hands lifting me from all areas of my body, and in seconds I was sat up there under the bright lights. I'd let my legs fall flat to the table, and they were held close together. Also, during the lift, someone had removed both my shoes, which made sense with the lovely green baize cloth covering the table.

Jason asked,

"Are you comfortable?"

"It's a bit hard, but it's ok."

"Oh; one other thing. See the little semi-circle behind you?"

Still sitting, I turned and looked,

"Yes."

"Well your little bottom should be sat just there."

I shuffled myself back, and sat in the semi-circle."

"Good. Now, your heels should slip into the pockets at either side of the table."

Still being miss innocent, I began to open my legs, but the stretch to these pockets was a lot further than I'd expected, and by the time my heels touched the pockets, my legs were at full stretch, and my bottom had slid down the table some what. (I'm not sure just how wide that table was, but I've since been told, they come in widths up to six feet!)

To attain this position, I'd had to let my arms fall behind me, to support my weight as I'd lent backwards. Also my dress was fully flared, and just above knee height. Perfectly respectable in normal circumstances, but in this position, it was obvious my open crotch would be on full display.

I felt, even if I kept in character; I'd have to say something.

"Surely this can't be right? Daddy wouldn't like me sitting here like this with you all looking up my dress."

Jason instantly; and I felt somewhat excitedly, replied,

"Never mind daddy. We won't tell him. And don't forget, you are in my house, and it would be rude not to indulge me."

"Ok. But what happens now?"

As I asked the question, I felt hands all around simultaneously restraining both hands and feet. Then directly afterwards, I could feel on my hands, and see on my ankles, men were binding them with ropes to the pockets of the table.

"Please. I don't like it. What are you going to do?"

"There was no answer, but all the men were now stripping naked, and in no time, they were all gathered around, and hands began to stroke my legs. Men not stroking me, were mostly stroking their own cocks, and getting them ready for action. Men from either side began to open the top of my dress, and soon my breasts were being fondled. It would have been pointless me attempting to resist, but my body being what it is, once they'd started this fondling, even if I'd wanted to resist, it would have been futile. As my hips began to lift, and my pussy to pout, I heard someone say,

"She's no virgin. And neither is her arse. Just look, both holes are begging for a fucking."

Jason replied,

"You're fucking right. Come on get her untied. I'll bet she'll fuck without even being held."

So that was it, they just untied me, and as each one mounted, I fucked. What I hadn't realised, was that somewhere along the road, once Jason had had his fuck, he'd gone back to the main room and started to talk to Francis. When Francis had asked him if he'd seen his daughter, he'd said,

"No, but if you want, I'll come with you and help you look for her."

He'd then led Francis into the billiard room, where I was on top of one man, with another fucking for all he was worth up my bottom. Of course, by now I was in full swing, making all kind of crude noises, calling for as much cock as they could give me, and there was no sign I'd been coerced into the situation.

On the way home I'd tried to explain to Francis, but he wouldn't even let me speak. The next day I explained at length to Peter what had taken place, but in the event, Francis never called for my services again. Peter did however get calls from several of the men who'd been involved, somehow they managed to find out Peter was my pimp. But as Peter didn't know too much about the reliability of these men, he'd declined all advances from them.

During the period before my first TV appearance, Trav and I won two of the remaining four preliminary competitions, and even became secret lovers for a short period; but that only lasted a month or so. He was too jealous of my part time job.

The TV show began, and we lasted five weeks into the series before we were voted off. The TV exposure brought with it a certain amount of fame, in total maybe ten or so chat shows. But I guess I didn't really have enough experience of life, or enough personality to break into the big time. Peter then began to find some legitimate advertising work, and this in itself is maybe worthy of a little more investigation. These adverts may be as he claimed legitimate, but they are not as innocent as you might first think.

The first of these adverts I was engaged for was something as simple as sausages. The main drift of the advert was to impress on the punter, how fresh and nourishing the ingredients used to make the sausages were. It was to start with me running down a meadow towards a stream. Crossing the stream via stepping stones. Then running through a field of waving corn. Then entering the farmyard gate, and taking a bucket to feed first the pigs, and lastly the beef cattle. The last part would be me cooking the sausages in two different pans, and dishing it out to four men seated around a big farmhouse kitchen table. They would then all be smiling, and saying how good they taste. Simple enough you might think, and certainly nothing sexy involved. You'd be wrong. The first thing that I thought strange was that although there were six girls up for the job; I was the only one there on the day of my audition. I later found out they only do one audition a day. I can only speak for my own experience, but I assume all the other girls were treated in a similar fashion.

I was asked into a room where the men with the influence, six of them, were seated in low arm chairs, positioned in a semi-circle at the far end. Behind them were several spot-lights to make sure the hopefuls were well illuminated.

As I walked in, the light intensity was so bright; I could hardly make out who or how many people were actually in the room. As I raised my hand to shade my eyes, a voice said,

"No my dear. What's the point in us having lights to show-up your face if you're going to cover it up."

Then, even though I couldn't actually see the man who was talking, I could tell by the tone and change of note, he must have been looking from side to side and talking to the other men on the panel.

"My god! Where do they find these girls? She looks as if she's never been in front of a camera before."

Another voice answered him,

"I know where she's come from. She's the one off the TV dance program, the one with the legs that reach all the way up to her tush."

The first voice again spoke,

"My god, you're right. I should have bloody recognised her. I'm the one who asked for her to audition. I can't wait to see her panties up close. Come on then girl; stand on that big white cross marked on the floor. And then let's see that crotch."

I walked forwards until I stood above the white cross, and I could just about make out the chairs in a semi-circle, but not the faces of the men sitting in them.

I gathered from the man's remark, his lasting impression of my TV performance, was nothing to do with all the hard work rehearsing dance steps and footwork. It was like most male viewers, just the occasional swings in the air, with my legs wide open, and more likely, the final pose the dance ends with. In all of these staged moves, I'd invariably end the dance, motionless with me, in various poses, but invariably with legs wide open. But, of course, the underwear, knickers in particular, were designed to give absolute coverage. Even if sometimes, the layers of different coloured material might on first glance give a riskay impression. In other words, the knickers would be made full width, in flesh coloured material, with a dress coloured, or contrasting material overlaid. Thus giving the impression of a narrow gusseted pair of knickers.