Perpetua's Revenge

As it turned out the only person in the receiving room was his former lover, standing awkwardly in six inch snakeskin stilettos and wearing a tight brown catsuit. She acted quickly and spirited him to a room at the end of the corridor, for there were people about in other rooms and he could hear low level conversations, faint music from several sources. The rancid smell of stale massage oil permeated the whole place and soft rose lampshades set the dim lighting. She put on some background music to mask her voice.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him carelessly.

"Right now, I'm impersonating Barry Gibson who at this moment is waiting on his verandah for you to arrive. What are you doing here?"

"This is a bit desperate isn't it?" she said drily.

"And what do you call this?" he shot back.

"It's a living, and what is your point?" It was a good question and one to which he had no answer. It was a stalemate. Her outfit was unbelievably tight and provocative and it was an enormous distraction to him and he realised that he was putting her through the basest humiliation by his presence there. In this brothel they were simply two objects of desire face to face. He knew that she had once cared for him, but he could sense none of that now. She wasn't so much hardened as emotionally unreachable. She was utterly changed from the woman he had known and enjoyed being intimate with. Yet he still wanted her badly. It was also difficult to read what she wanted for herself, and this cut him deeply.

"There's a security camera facing you right now," she said coolly. "For the sake of my livelihood I suggest we continue as if you are Barry." He wasn't going to argue with that. She took his face in her cupped hands and kissed him intensely on his lips and then continued it with light kisses. He was aroused immediately; her kisses tasted the same as he remembered them. She removed his shirt and kissed his chest and licked his nipples as she sat him down on a on a quilted red satin couch and sat astride him.

Her catsuit was soft and skintight but strangely made by odd shaped pieces of leather laced together, which created a jungle woman look. There were slashes of flesh you could see but to get at her whole body involved unstrapping sections at a time and the larger pieces were secured with leather thonging with small combination locks at each end. Both breasts were guarded by this chastity tease but the nipples were accessible through a buttoned latch. He hungrily opened up the leather latch and took her nipple into his mouth. She sighed and whispered 222 into his ear. He fumbled about with the two locks guarding her breasts until the breast plate of her suit fell open and he took both jugs in his hands and drank thirstily. She was delicious to taste.

He noted how serious and professionally smooth she was. She slid down between his legs and was on her knees before him. She put both her hands behind her back and skilfully undid his belt with her teeth, unzipped his metal fly. He got up and removed his jeans and his boxer shorts and he was fully erect as he sat down on the couch in front of her. Still with her hands clasped behind her back she dropped her head between his legs and went down upon him and took his manhood into her mouth and delicately played her tongue around his fullness. He wanted to cry out a little but he stifled it quickly.

She stood up and towered over him in her high heels and leant over and kissed him intensely and murmured 242. He reached between her legs for the lock but it was hidden somewhere and he had to search for it and eventually felt it between her buttocks. He had to reach in between the narrow gap between the two panels which covered her hips and cheeks and manipulate the lock. To release and unlace the chastity belt he gently guided her to turn around and bend over double in front of him. He was very hard and his cock was throbbing to get at her. It took several long minutes to fully unlace the yards of leather thong that incarcerated her vagina and magnificent arse.

Finally the panels gave way and with a big sigh he quickly and deeply thrust himself into her. She was very wet inside, and her walls were fairly sucking at him. He secured his big hands on either side of her hips to stop her overbalancing atop the shiny stilettos as he grinded her hard from behind in a very slippery circus. She was utterly compliant with his treatment which was not rough but sturdy and hearty. It was a deeply satisfying fuck for him as he kept pushing her harder and harder and she was able to take all of him and his bulk driving at her. She had said nothing, but the amount of juice inside her spoke volumes. He could feel himself approaching the edge now and he took a deep breath and jerked himself repeatedly into her with hard thrusts. He heard the door open and in walked the Madame with Barry Gibson in tow. Without withdrawing from her, Bob ejaculated forcefully into his former mistress, unperturbed by the surprise entrance.

"What the fuck ..." said Barry.

"Barry?" feigned the woman in the catsuit.

"We take Visa," said the Madam.

Bob said nothing but put on his clothes and walked out to the foyer. The Madam quickly followed. He paid for his services quietly and walked down the stairs and a tear rolled down his cheek.

Tears fell on his big cheeks all the way home to Missouri. He cried himself to sleep every night for four and half months. Sometimes he thought he would cry for the rest of his life.