Lured by Luxury

One night, she and her flatmate Angela had ventured into a night club together, which was slightly above their means. It turned out to be, for Linda, a fateful venture, for it was there that she encountered Barton Franden, the man who was set to change (ruin?) her life.

Tall, with a broad handsome face, so handsome that Linda's heart leapt at the first sight of him. Cooly dressed in a fawn jacket, with dark pants and a dark brown shirt that was open to reveal the beginnings of a hairy chest. He spoke with seductive charm in his deep brown voice. When he asked her for that first dance she was entranced. It was all too good to be true. Two more dances and he drove her to her flat, gave her a chaste kiss on the lips, and arranged to pick her up the following night

The second night and two nights after that were magical, insofar as they involved dining at a high class hotel one night, and a top of the range restaurant the next. In both, Barton acted like a real man-about-town, who drove a top of the range Jaguar. She was hooked, and the things that happened subsequently only signified how blindly hypnotised she became with such luxury.

He spoke only loosely about his business, which he said took him all over the country. "Living in posh hotels can be so trying," he told her with a mock mopping of his brow. That had made her laugh, and she was so taken in by his relaxed manner and charm that when, on their fourth date he had asked if she would like to see his current hotel suite, she had no hesitation. Not a hotel room, a hotel suite. She knew she would not find a better location in which to lose here virginity.

There was little doubt in Linda's mind that this would be the outcome of such a visit, and the suite was everything she would have expected. Immaculately furnished lounge and dining area, with a bedroom that contained a massive bed. On that bed, without too much preamble, he removed her clothing, ogled her body for a moment, before removing his own pants, briefly stroking her breasts before shockingly plunging his erect penis, into her with only a slight hesitation at her tightness. For Linda, the occasion was pure agony, and she couldn't prevent a squeal that marked the pain of it. Especially excruciating was the fact that she felt him coming almost immediately. "I've fancied you so much," he gasped in her ear. "Next time will be better."

Hurt and disappointed, she may have been, but she was still able to accept his invitation to give up her job and travel as his companion around the country. He was so macho, so handsome, so in control of his whole destiny, it seemed, and it promised life in the upper reaches of society, which, to an easily impressed Linda, was represented by the high class hotels they would be staying in.

The first doubts she had about her choice came early, when she found that his promise of next time being better was short of the truth. It came four days into their travels, in a wonderful hotel overlooking the Mersey, where, without any kind of foreplay, he once again pushed his swollen member through the resistance of her only slightly moistened vaginal walls. Yet, in spite of that, her concerns were quickly dispelled by the quality of life she was leading. While Barton went off to follow his business involvement, Linda was free to shop, have beauty treatment, and generally indulge herself.

Eating, talking, dancing with Barton were all fine, and, although his sexual demands were surprisingly limited to every four or five days, he showed no sign of doing anything other than, enter her without preamble, shoot his load, and withdraw. Any attempt to talk about it led to him becoming angry, and comments like, "You want out of it?" And she accepted his functional use of her body because the sessions were thankfully brief.

Often the thought would play in her mind that sex was supposed to be a pleasurable experience. But as she got used to knowing when he expected sex, she would retire to the bathroom, tease her own clitoris until she knew she was good, moist and ready, before returning to his bed, and accepting his easier entry. In fact, on a couple of occasions she had done such a good job on herself that the feeling of his eager penis moving up her vaginal passage, short term as it was, occasionally had her panting, and closing in on a climax that she never quite reached. He appeared not to notice the difference.

There was never any open response to her enquiries about his work. His dark eyes glaring at her, he would shrug, and say something like, "It wouldn't interest you." Linda blindly just lapped up the affluence of it.

About four weeks into their travels, they were in a hotel in York, where Linda had prepared herself for Barton's usual assault, but to her dismay, he said, "I want my cock (his word) in your mouth." It wasn't a request it was a cold statement as he waved his erection in front of her face. It wasn't something Linda had even contemplated, but she knew to refuse would be dangerous.

"But what if you—"she began, fearing the obvious outcome.

"Don't worry, I'll pull back. Go on," he urged, "lick it."

Cringing inside, she tentatively stroked her tongue over the purple head, and felt him shudder at the touch. His hand pulled at the back of her head as he growled, "Open, come on, open."

Linda parted her lips and felt the warm rod pass over her tongue, felt the head gliding along the inside of her cheek. Actually it wasn't a bad sensation, warm and almost comforting. There was nothing in it for her, but if he liked it, then it would be a reasonable way to stay in Barton's good books. Just so long as his stuff didn't come into her mouth. She knew well enough how quick he was. His hand pulled on her head to push himself deeper into her mouth. His tip touched on the back of her throat and she feared for a moment she might gag. Teasingly she wriggled her tongue to make a tight sucking motion with her cheeks.

That was when she heard his moan, felt the tension in his loins, knew he was about to shoot. He had promised to pull back, but as she started to move her head away, his two hands clasped tightly on the back of her head, keeping him deep in the back of her throat. "No," she tried to say, as she heard his ecstatic moan, but the word came as a gurgle as she felt his hot cream pour into her throat. Mortified, she swallowed as quickly as she could, as his hips flexed to release each wave. She suffered the clingy stickiness of his stuff around her tonsils, and down her throat

His penis quickly became limp, and as he eased back it trailed over her tongue, depositing whatever residue was left, and the salty bitterness was all she was aware of. The very thought of it sickened her.

"That was great, wasn't it?" he enthused, his limp penis trailing down over her breasts.

"You said you'd pull back."

"Well, I did, didn't I? Back and forwards, back and forwards." And he laughed at his unfunny joke. "Like the taste?"

"Not much."

"You'll get used to it," he affirmed. Did that mean that awful act would be repeated? It did, and it was. It didn't get any better for Linda, but she began to realise that using her mouth on him was arguably a better route than having him heaving his penis into the dryness of her unready vagina. Plus, there was no fiddling with condoms. She learned that by sucking and tonguing vigorously she could bring him to a very swift conclusion, less than three minutes most times, and the rest of the evening was always peaceful.

Then, about four months into their relationship, a new and more disgraceful episode signalled a further downward step in her time with Barton. They were in a superb hotel in Glasgow, and Barton had told Linda that he might be a little late because he was taking a business friend for a drink. This news had pleased Linda because she had already discovered that Barton under the influence of drink was all but impotent, so she could happily look forward to a relaxed night.

Accordingly, she took a long slow bubble bath, and dressed only in a thin silk negligee, she sat nibbling a few chocolates and watched an old film on television. At just after eleven o'clock she turned in, looking forward to snuggling , naked, in the sumptuous sensuousness of silken sheets.

She hadn't fallen asleep when she heard the apartment door close and two laughing voices. Guessing Barton had brought his friend back for a night-cap, and no doubt to show him the kind of luxurious hotel space he could occupy, Linda let herself doze. The laughter of the two men occasionally roused her. Just once she thought she heard her name mentioned. At last the talking stopped, and there was silence, and she tried to be asleep before Barton arrived. Then the bedroom door opened and closed, and she heard him struggling out of his clothes, as he always did on his drunken nights.

For some reason tonight he switched on the bedside light. She kept her eyes closed, as she felt the sheets being raised as he prepared to fall into bed. They seemed to be raised for longer than usual, her naked body on view. Then the mattress moved slightly as he rolled under the sheets, but she kept her back to him.

She was a little surprised when his hand smoothed down her arm before moving over her breasts, fingering at the nipples. Linda's eyes came open. Barton didn't usually touch her with such intimacy. The next second she was doubting whether it could be Barton, as she felt the hard nudge of a very erect penis against her buttocks.

Half turning, she said, "Have you not had a drink, Barton?"

The voice that replied wasn't Barton's, "He's passed out through there, but he gave me permission to keep you happy. He told me you had a gorgeous body, and I've just seen how good."

Desperately, Linda struggled to sit up as she protested, "You can't-

But her struggle took her onto her back and his weight was instantly pinning her down, his legs clamped over hers forcing them apart, as he worked his penis between her thighs and into her unready vaginal passage. Linda knew that crying out would be futile, but the grinding solidity of his penis was hurtful, and she longed for it to be over. Well, that's the way it would have been with Barton.

But the movements of this man were lustier and much more prolonged. It was something that Linda had no experience of. His penis was being driven to its hilt before drawing back and driving again and again. Linda became aware that, after the initial discomfort, this continuous pounding inside her was making her own juices flow, so that before long she reluctantly had to admit to herself that it was no longer unpleasant. Her hands were actually clutching at his twitching buttocks. How much she might have enjoyed it, she wasn't due to find out as, suddenly, he tensed before thrusting massively up into her with a loud gasping groan, and his movement signalled the spurting of his stuff.

Linda found her emotions very mixed. She was disgusted that she had been taken so easily, yet forcefully, by a complete stranger, and that Barton had obviously sanctioned it. Yet there had been the first tiny elements of what exciting sex might be like. That lengthy, lusty occupation and movement in her inner passage, could have been enjoyable in other circumstances. Still, he had forced her, and, without a condom, she now realised, as his fluid trickled down her thigh.

"That good for you?" he grunted, looking down into her face. In the faint light he looked square jawed and not bad looking. But he was heavy sprawled there on top pf her.

"Not really," she hissed, "and would you kindly get off me now."

He eased up, but only slightly, maintaining much of his weight on her legs, and chest. She was still virtually imprisoned under him. "Just recovering my strength," he replied and his lips nuzzled over her breasts, sucking and licking around each nipple in turn.

"What do you think you're doing?" she gasped at his audacity.

"Trying to get you worked up," he said, and she did not like the sound of the chuckle in his voice. His lips continued to roam over her breasts. Desperately she tried to convince herself that she didn't like it. She could only be still as he played.

Horrified, she felt his penis beginning to pulse against her thigh. God, it was hardening. Was he going to enter her again?

Almost in answer he whispered, "Bart tells me you give good head."

"What?" she hadn't heard the expression before, but his next moves left no doubt.

He gripped her upper arms tightly, as his body rose up over her, and he slid his buttocks up over her belly to straddle her chest. This left her legs free, but all her kicking and wriggling had no effect on his intent. He seemed so practiced in his action. His hands moved from her arms, but immediately he moved higher, his groin right over her face, as his lower calves, maintained the pressure on her arms. Now his free hands, grabbed her hair at the back of her head, and forced it up and forward. She cried out with the pain of the weight on her arms, and upper chest, and the pull on her hair.

His massively erect penis was there, right in front of her face. She could smell herself on it, as he urged her, "Open nicely now."

"No!" She cried out, kicking her legs wildly, and futilely, trying desperately to shake her head away from the menacing rod. But his grip on her hair was forcing her head to stay in position.

"I don't want to hit you to make you open. Might break your jaw." And the penis head was pressed against her lips, which she kept firmly together. One of his hands released her hair and his fingers gripped her nose. It only took a few seconds for her to open her mouth to draw in some welcome air, but, as was his intention, his purple headed rod forced its way between the parted lips. She was so tempted to bite on it, but something advised her against such a provocative move. What might he do to her then?

Near tears, she could only give way to the various pressures that overcame her; his shins on her arms, his hands pulling on her hair, and his large penis pistoning its way into her mouth. Her own taste was there, along with traces of the semen he had dispelled in her vagina. Compared with Barton's, his erection felt massive in her mouth, filling it, ravaging along her cheek right to the back of her throat. His hips kept up a thrusting motion which got faster and faster, harder and harder. There was nothing but violence in his actions.

He drew the penis head back, almost to her lips, but by now she was too exhausted to take any advantage. Immediately, it was clear that he had only pulled it back to ram it forward again, so deep she thought she would choke, and then she knew he was about to spurt as his almost frantic hip movements increased. However much he had expelled in her vagina earlier, it felt like load upon load was being pumped down her throat. For a moment she thought she would vomit. Then he lay quietly, still in her mouth, where his detumescence seemed to take ages. At last the limp member slid down her jaw, down her neck and over her breasts as he began to dismount from her.

Freed, she leapt from the bed and hurried to the en suite, and heard his ironic call, "Thank you, Linda."

She ran the shower, desperate to rid herself of the semen that coated her thighs, her face and her breasts. If only she could remove as easily the memory of the whole event, wash out the guilt of those brief moments when she believed she might have enjoyed it in different circumstances. Out of the shower, she took the disinfectant mouth wash and tried to flush away the foul tastes that lived in her mouth. Was the luxuriant living worth that episode?

Back in the bedroom she found that her abuser had gone. She opened the door to the lounge to see Barton, in unbuttoned shirt and trousers, slumped across a sofa, dead to the world and snoring loudly. Angrily she climbed back into her bed, believing that she wouldn't sleep. But she did, and well at that.

Next morning, it was late as Linda pulled on her thin robe and went through to the lounge. Barton, in towel dressing gown, was sitting on the sofa with a tray of dishes in front of him. He looked up and smiled as she entered.

"Good morning, my dear. Hungry?" His smile was teasing.

"Did you really do that?" she asked, trying not to sound too angry.

"What?"

"Give that man permission to -go to bed with me?"

Barton threw his head back with a harsh laugh, "No, I didn't give him permission to—" and his pause was accompanied with a mocking sneer, "—go to bed with you—How quaint you sound. I merely gave him permission to screw you—with maybe an added blowjob" He reached out and picked up his mobile. "I've had an email from him. Want to hear it?"

"Not really."

Despite her refusal he began reading, "Good body, just like you promised. Not a lot of juice, but the mouth, once opened, was good. Still needs extra practice, I would say." His dark eyes looked up at her, "He could be right—and that is bound to happen—the extra practice, that is."

"A stranger? Just like that?. Shouldn't you have asked me first?"

Barton was instantly on his feet, and before Linda could step back he had grabbed her by her robe and pulled her close, snarling, "I don't have to ask you. Most of the time you're having an easy life. You can't object to doing something for the cause. And he was not a stranger. He was a new client. I always offer little surprises to a new client."

Linda's heart was pounding, and much, much later, she would be telling herself that had been the moment when she should have called it a day. To hell with the easy living, she should have said. The price was too high if she was going to be treated like that. But all she said was, "It makes me sound like a whore."

Surprisingly, his voice softened, as he kissed her forehead, "No, no, never that. Such clients are few and far apart. Anyway, aren't you my special?" And, as he said it, he was pressing her to her knees with one hand while the other pulled open his dressing gown to bring her face close to his rampant penis.

So the weeks went by, and their travels took them from city to city, and she noticed he had a different car, a new car, practically every two months. She was only having to give herself to Barton on a roughly twice a week basis and was surprised that he was not more demanding. It was so much easier when she used her mouth to speed the moment through. Yet on some of those occasions she found herself having an unexpected moistening between her thighs, and the failure to have that fulfilled, she knew, was a gap in her life. Still, she kept telling herself, she was living the high life, wasn't she?

Everything began to change, when, after about six weeks since the incident in the Glasgow hotel, Linda suddenly realised she had missed two periods. That could mean only one thing, and one day, while they were in York, she plucked up courage to visit the hospital. A short examination and the doctor congratulated her on being approximately five weeks pregnant. He appeared surprised that she was not enthused about the news, so, while her own mind was racing, she told him she was worried about the amount of travelling she was doing.

"Just keep in touch with any Health centre you happen to be near."

For Linda, the big questions were, how to tell Barton, who would know that he was not the father, being so condom conscious, and did she really want to have the baby?

The latter question took less time to resolve. All right, the likely father had been a bastard, but he was gone out of her life, and this baby would be hers alone, hers to love, to care for, to hold close to her heart. God, she found she wanted this baby more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. What if it did break into her easy living? She would live with that if it happened.