Pamela Ch. 08: Two Titless Fuckers

"Hang on, Sammy," I warned. "This could be from Hayley. Just a second."

The email was from Hayley.

"Hi, Frank," I read. "Happy to do the trip next week with whatever arrangements you can make. I'll just go with the flow. Thanks a lot. Hayley."

"She's fine, Sammy," I announced. "Change the booking and thanks."

We closed the call and I went back to Hayley to thank her, thinking I wouldn't explain what 'arrangements' I had made until I saw her on her first day on the following Monday. Job done.

The time seemed to fly by until it was time to meet Pamela outside my office as she was driving. I hadn't asked her why she needed a car but I assumed I would find out soon enough. I closed the system down and had a last look around the place before turning off the lights and headed for the stairs to find Pamela waiting in the street. I crossed the road and opened the passenger door and got in, noting immediately that she wasn't wearing what she was at breakfast time. Far from it.

"Wow!" I cried in some surprise. "What's with the outfit?"

"Just close the door," she interjected, glancing in her mirror.

"You've noticed," she quipped, pulling out into the traffic.

"I'm not complaining," I retorted, taking in her fishnets under a tight, black pencil skirt with matching heels. "I love the crimson blouse under that black jacket. Who's the lucky man?"

"Who's the lucky girl, you should say," she replied with a wide smile as we made our way slowly through the traffic towards the road home.

"I don't understand," I mused, noting her lips matched her crimson blouse.

"Why are men so dim sometimes?" she challenged, pulling up at a red light. "If you remember as long ago as this morning, we said we might stop off at Crumpets cafe in Fucton on the way home for tea and a cake and also ..."

"To take a closer look at Charlotte, the manageress," I interjected with enthusiasm. "Yes, but why the outfit? Won't that make it more difficult to get a result? It'll be too obvious."

"That's just the point," she retorted, easing the car away again. "As I said this morning, we were successful with Gemma because I made it clear from the outset that we were looking for a threesome so there was no confusion. I intend to do the same with Charlotte, provided, of course, you think you could handle two titless fuckers."

"Titless fuckers!" I exclaimed. "Where the hell did you get that one from?"

Pamela laughed as she turned right off the Main Street.

"I don't know," she replied. "I think it's quite apostate, don't you?"

"I hope you aren't going to use it in your chat up line with Charlotte," I retorted. "Heaven knows what she would say."

"Don't worry, baby," she replied. "I'll be good."

We soon were on the direct route home, with Fucton about five miles ahead.

"How was your day?" asked Pamela, changing the subject. "It's unfortunate about Boz."

"Yeah," I agreed. "The thing is I'm a bit stuck on my own as I can't be in the office as well as be out seeing clients."

"Can't you use your new recruit?" she asked. "What's her name, by the way?"

"Hayley Francis," I replied, an image of Hayley with her head between Gemma's legs appearing in my mind's eye. "By the way, it turns out she writes erotic novels."

"How do you know that?" she asked, glancing at me for a split second.

"She told me," I explained before summarising our conversation at the Grand Hotel over lunch.

"What a thing to tell your new boss even before you've started work," she observed. "She must be confident in her abilities. I'm looking forward to meeting her and reading her stuff."

"But we don't know her pseudonym," I objected. "We don't know her middle initial."

Another glance from Pamela followed with a slow shake of her head suggesting imbecility on my part.

"Right, we're nearly there," she observed, slowing down to the specified speed limit. "They close at five o'clock which is in fifteen minutes so we should just get in and, with luck, there won't be many other customers. I understand from Samantha, my PA, who shares the flat above the cafe with Charlotte, that they have an assistant, a waitress, but she leaves when business is starting to slow down so Charlotte will hopefully be on her own, especially as Samantha is working late this evening."

Pamela eased the car into the village and turned into one of the few parking spaces outside the cafe.

"Looks like no-one else came by car," she observed, killing the engine. "Now, leave the talking to me and, who knows with luck, a cake may not be the only thing you'll get to eat."

I raised my eyes as I undid my seatbelt and opened the car door.

"How do I look?" she whispered as we strolled the few yards to the entrance to the cafe.

"Like the best titless fucker in town," I quipped, earning an elbow in my ribs.

I opened the door and Pamela preceded me into the cafe. There were around a dozen small tables, all neatly set with white tablecloths, white crockery and shiny cutlery. A middle-aged lady sat at one of the tables, nursing a coffee as if she didn't have a home to go to but she was the only customer remaining. We approached the counter to be met by the appearance of a gorgeous slim blonde emerging from the back room.

"Hello," she greeted with a lovely smile. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I hope so," replied Pamela, her voice acting as a prompt to tear my eyes away from the lady's tied-up blonde hair adorned by a small black and white mobcap matching her black with white trim uniform embellished by a white apron tied around her waist. "We live in Little Pissington up the road and your cafe was recommended by Samantha Dreem."

"You know Samantha?" enquired Charlotte with interest.

"Yes," replied Pamela. "Samantha is my personal assistant working in town. Sorry, I'm Pamela Hatch and this is Frank McMahon."

Charlotte smiled.

"I'm Charlotte Ellis, the manageress," she said, glancing up at the wall clock. "Samantha seems to like working for you. She's working late this evening or she would be back by now."

"Yes, I'm sorry about that," replied Pamela. "My fault, I'm afraid. Are we too late for tea and a cake?"

Charlotte looked suddenly ill at ease.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "I'm afraid I've had a good day and I'm out of cakes but I could ..."

"It's not a problem, honestly," interjected Pamela as, out of the corner of my eye I saw the middle-aged lady pulling on her coat to leave.

"Would you excuse me a moment?" begged Charlotte, moving around the counter to go over to the door to open it, affording Pamela and I a lovely view of tight uniform around her neat arse and her lovely lower legs. Yes, Charlotte was one sexy lady.

A moment later, after closing it and turning round the notice on the back of it to signify 'closed', she returned to face us once again from behind the counter, resting her slim-fingered hands together on top of it.

"Sorry about that," she said with another lovely smile. "Yes, and for the lack of cakes ..."

"It's not a problem," interjected Pamela, resting a hand on top of Charlotte's, pressing down gently.

Charlotte didn't move, her eyes fixed on Pamela's.

"As you're now closed," observed Pamela in a tone of voice that I was becoming familiar with as it brooked no resistance, "why don't you lock up and turn out the lights and then we can go to your bedroom?"

"My bedroom?" repeated Charlotte, her eyes open wide. "I ..."

"Charlotte," interjected Pamela in almost a whisper. "Why resist it? You know you want to have sex with Frank and I. Lock the door and turn out the lights and take us to your bedroom."

Charlotte didn't move a muscle nor utter a sound, even when Pamela leaned forward and kissed gently her on the lips.

"Now!" she whispered. "Do it now."

As if suddenly plugged into the electric supply, Charlotte broke away and ran to the door to lock up and lower the blinds, returning to stand next to the light switches.

"Come through," she urged, her voice almost breaking with emotion.

Pamela passed through the doorway and I followed then the flicking of switches resulted in the cafe being in darkness with the exception of a light on the adjacent stairs.

"I just need to turn everything off in the kitchen," announced Charlotte, passing us both. "Wait there."

It took no more than a minute before she switched off the kitchen lights and joined us. I stepped out of the way to allow her to pass me but, as she placed a foot on the bottom step of the stairs, Pamela caught her with an arm and pulled her to herself, thrusting her tongue into her mouth. Charlotte almost fainted with the sensation but Pamela eased her own head back and smiled.

"You lead the way," she stated, a command in all but name, taking Charlotte's hand in hers.

As if in a dream, Charlotte set off up the stairs with Pamela in tow with me bringing up the rear, the realisation hitting me that I was going to a woman's bedroom that I hadn't even spoken to. Such is the Power of Pamela!

At the top landing, Charlotte headed along the corridor to throw open the far doorway, releasing Pamela's hand to go ahead to flick on a bedside light before closing the curtains even though it was still light outside. She then stood still, expressionless, looking from across the double bed to Pamela who instructed me to shut the bedroom door which I did.

"Now, take the armchair over in the corner," she added so, without a word I moved across the carpet and around the bed to my designated viewpoint. I knew that the first part of proceedings wouldn't require my services but, as they say, things come to them that wait. I took my seat and glanced around the room.

It wasn't a large room but it was very feminine as far as the furnishings were concerned, with cream and soft pink being the theme. There was a wardrobe adjacent to a small set of drawers on one wall opposite a dressing table and stool to the right of the entrance door. The curtains covered a wide window which, as it faced north, would ensure the room remained cool in the summer heat. Opposite the window was the bed, which looked large, which was covered by a duvet that matched the curtains. A bank of pillows leant against the bedhead with sundry cushions scattered around. The cream carpet was thick pile.

"Now, come around here," continued Pamela, her eyes on Charlotte who, I was delighted to appreciate, seemed perfectly satisfied to be subservient, not that she had a lot of choice given the strength of Pamela's personality and did as instructed without hesitation. "You will refer to me as your Mistress. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress," croaked Charlotte, her voice almost breaking with excitement as she stood directly in front of Pamela.

"Very good," commended Pamela, nodding her head in appreciation. "Now, how are you to address the gentleman in the armchair?"

"As my Master," replied Charlotte, again without hesitation, jacking up my hard-on another notch.

"Very good again," commended Pamela. "Your master and I shall refer to you as Miss Ellis at all times except when you are pleasuring me. So, tell me, who are you?"

"Miss Ellis," replied Charlotte, her eyes showing disbelief at what was happening, "except when I ... I am pleasuring you, Mistress."

I was lost for thoughts, let alone words.

"Now Miss Ellis," went on Pamela, stepping forward to stand even closer to but not touching the completely subservient blonde, their height almost identical, "you are to undress both of us, garment by garment. Start with my jacket."

Without hesitation, Charlotte reached out her hands and took both sides of Pamela's jacket and eased them back over her shoulders and guided them down her arms and over her hands, releasing one side to drop it gently onto the carpet. I was as hard as iron. Fuck! How many guys have been in a scene like this? Not many.

"Now, take off your mobcap and untie your hair," instructed Pamela, nodding with her eyes as she looked at Charlotte's headwear. "Shake it loose."

To my great excitement, Charlotte did as instructed before rolling her head around to release her gorgeous waves so that their tips caressed the collar of her uniform.

"You are very beautiful," mused Pamela as the mob cap followed her own jacket down onto the carpet. "Now, undo the buttons of your dress down to your waist. Slowly, button by button."

Charlotte reached both hands up to her collar and slipped the top button, her eyes still fixed on Pamela, then the second and the third. Suddenly, Pamela silently raised a hand to stop her progressing and then, using both hands, she gently rested a hand on the side of her neck and slid it down under the collar and across her shoulder.

"That's excellent, Miss Ellis," she mused. "I prefer you not to wear a bra unless I require it."

"I never wear a bra, Mistress," breathed Charlotte. "I have no need."

"But you do, Miss Ellis," rebutted Pamela, smiling. "Now, undo the buttons of my blouse."

Charlotte immediately complied before pulling back her hands as if Pamela was too hot to hold.

"That's good, Miss Ellis," said Pamela gently. "Now kiss me."

Charlotte, evidently as tight as a coiled spring, released herself and threw her arms around Pamela's neck, her tongue invading Pamela's welcoming mouth. A groan of mixed emotion and arousal sounded from Charlotte's throat before she tensed, prompting Charlotte to ease back and release her.

"Now, Miss Ellis," continued Pamela, her dominance restored, "I want you to turn around to face your Master and continue to undo the buttons of your dress before opening it to show him your breasts before taking it off."

My heart was in my mouth as Charlotte turned and, without any expression but her eyes fixed on mine, she reached down to undo the remaining buttons then, lifting her hands to her waist, slowly separated the two sides of her dress. I gasped noiselessly as I saw her almost non-existent breasts with amazingly dark red nipples, hard as my cock. Her black hold-up stockings and matching satin panties, trimmed with lace were her only adornments other than her flat shoes. And then, with the aplomb of a stripper, she shook her head and her hair flowed in a circle. I was lost for words.

"You have a gift for presentation, Miss Ellis," observed Pamela, clearly impressed. "Now, I want you to undo the buttons and take off my blouse."

Turning back to face Pamela, Charlotte reached out with quivering hands and undid her top fastened button, then her second and third. As Pamela's blouse was tucked under her pencil skirt, Charlotte paused, waiting for instructions. A nod from Pamela was all Charlotte needed and she gently eased the material from under the waistband. Without hesitation, she lifted the blouse apart, her eyes fixed on Pamela's erect nipples as they emerged, pink and hard, and slid it off her to fall to the developing heap on the carpet.

"Do you like my nipples, Miss Ellis?" whispered Pamela and Charlotte nodded. "Then take them in your fingertips ... oh!"

Running her arms over Charlotte's, I watched with utter fascination as Pamela reciprocated with Charlotte's nipples, gently pressing them between her fingertips.

"Oh Mistress!" gasped Charlotte, unable to prevent herself closing her eyes with the intensity of the sensation.

"Kiss me, Miss Ellis," ordered Pamela, her voice almost as fractured as Charlotte's. "Keep hold of my nipples."

Despite the encumbrance of hands and arms in the way, the two women brought their mouths together and their tongues embraced with gusto. It was obvious they were way beyond stopping now. For some seconds, they kissed before Charlotte broke away in some discomfort.

"Oh Mistress," she gasped. "Please ... oh!"

"Don't you like it when I squeeze them?" asked Pamela, smiling. "You are going to learn how to endure and enjoy pain, Miss Ellis."

Suddenly, Charlotte yelped as Pamela increased the pressure on her nipples for a second before releasing them leaving Charlotte gasping for breath though refusing to relax her hold on Pamela.

"That's good, Miss Ellis," praised Pamela. "I demand obedience but as I didn't give you permission to release my nipples, I am pleased. You may release them."

Charlotte, slowly retracting her hands and arms, said nothing. Pamela, still looking straight into Charlotte's eyes, reached a hand down the side of her own skirt and unzipped it before using both hands to ease it down over her hips to fall to her ankles, stepping out of it. She too was wearing hold-up stockings but her black fishnets had a sexier appeal. Her black panties, clearly added when she dressed before picking me up from the office, replaced her increasing preference for going without.

"Now, Miss Ellis," purred Pamela, sliding both hands under Charlotte's glorious hair before cupping her cheeks, "I am going to climb onto your bed and lie back with my head on the pillows."

Charlotte said nothing, appearing to have stopped breathing as Pamela assumed the position, spreading her legs wide.

"Now," went on Pamela, "I want you to go over to stand in front of your Master ... go on ... that's right, Miss Ellis, now, you are going to ask him if he is happy that you remove your panties. If he accepts your offer, you will do so."

I stared at the front of the black satin, right in front of my face, certain I could see evidence of arousal dampening the material.

"May I remove my panties, Master?" asked Charlotte in not much more than a whisper.

Of the view that I had no voice, I merely nodded. I glanced across at Pamela but restored my gaze on Charlotte's fingertips as they slowly rolled the waistband of her panties downwards, sliding her hands inside at the side to make the task easier. Slowly, a small tuft of blonde hair appeared, just above where I knew her clitoris would be found. She was a natural blonde, the realisation prompting a thrill to run through my hard cock. Down the panties continued until they rested on her upper thighs and I saw her slit, hairless and slick with arousal. With a downward push, the panties dropped to her ankles and, one by one, she stepped out of them, flicking the flimsy garment away with a foot.

"You may turn around, Miss Ellis," said Pamela, who did before gasping aloud at the sight of Pamela in the same position but without her own panties, having removed them outside my notice as my eyes were otherwise occupied. Then, knowing Charlotte was looking straight between her open thighs, she used her fingertips to spread her pussy lips apart, revealing her hard, erect clitoris.

"Climb on the edge of the bed, Miss Ellis," continued Pamela. "On your knees."

With a shudder, Charlotte moved forward, knowing exactly what was expected of her, and did as she was told with her hands flat on the duvet between Pamela's thighs, pushing her arse back towards the edge of the bed.

"You know what I want, don't you, Miss Ellis," asked Pamela who was rewarded with a slight smile from Charlotte. "Yes, I thought you would. You are going to pay homage to your mistress as any servant would but, as you have been a good girl, you too are to be rewarded."

There was silence for a few seconds.

"Yes, Miss Ellis," confirmed Pamela, "while you are paying homage to me, your Master will take his pleasure from behind you. Go ahead."

I couldn't see her face as Charlotte lowered her head and started licking Pamela but I admit I had something pressing to deal with. My cock. I tore off my jacket, tie and shirt, flicking off my shoes at the same time. It took seconds to drop and kick off my trousers and, moving towards the bed and Charlotte's awaiting cunt, I somehow removed my boxers. Resting my hands on her hips, she spread her knees giving me access to her slit. With one hand guiding my shaft, I felt its tip touch the damp smoothness of her labia and suddenly, in what seemed to be absolute silence, I felt inch after inch slide inside her. Fuck, she was tight. I gasped as she did, replacing my hand on her hip to gain purchase. In, out, in, out, I started to thrust, increasing the power with every stroke. Groan after groan came from Charlotte as she tried to concentrate her tongue on Pamela's clitoris. The sensation was incredible. Charlotte was incredible. But as for her cunt...