Pony Boy Ch. 04

But nothing lasts forever and, even with the extended mix that Mr. H had had made, we were running out of music. I could feel Jed's tension rising, I could feel my own tension rising but it was still a bit of a disappointment when he pulled out and the rapturous applause of the audience, whipped off the condom and squirted his cum all over my arse.

Mr Mason had been very firm We were to hold the final pose and wait until the applause had died down. That left me still bent over the desk with Jed's spunk slowly dripping down the back of my legs. At last it was time to stand up and, hand in hand we turned to the audience. I, of course, still had my panties around my knees, a point that one or two in the audience felt impelled to inform me of. Jed bowed and I curtseyed and, at last, the curtain closed in front of us.

We went to the side of the stage and someone handed me a towel. I stepped out of my panties and tried to towel down my backside without rubbing too hard. We were being hurried off stage so a better job would have to wait for the dressing room and the cool, soothing touch of Tracy's baby wipes. Indeed, when we got there, Tracy and her mum were waiting for us and she helped me clean up, thankfully going easy on the welts that criss crossed my backside.

We'd hardly had five minutes to rest before we heard a banging on the door. In a panic I pulled on the strawberry pink panties, changed my skirt for the spare that Tracy had brought with her and we let them in. Naturally it was Mr. Mason with Mr. Bothwick and a couple of other hangers on.

The dressing room was suddenly full to bursting and it was all popping champagne corks, back slapping and congratulations.

"So where's this naughty little schoolgirl?" Mr. Bothwick roared and Mr. Mason led him over to me and did the introductions. I'm played it shy and demure and all 'Oh, Mr. Bothwick, I'm so glad you enjoyed our little show.'

"That caning, it was faked, right?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Bothwick, we wouldn't dream of faking a show for your party. You should see the state of my backside."

"Yeah, I should." He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around so that I was facing the dressing table, pushing me against it so that I was leant forward over it. He grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm up behind my back, so as to hold me there. Then he then lifted the back of my skirt and tucked the hem into the waistband to hold it there. He took his time looking and I could feel his fingers tracing the red lines left where I had been caned. His hand cupped my buttocks and I gave them a little wiggle. However, in the crowded dressing room, someone backed into him and he got jogged.

"Right, that's it. You lot, fuck off. Me and Belinda need a little time together."

Everyone trooped out leaving me, still leaning forward over the dressing table and him still standing behind me.

"Yeah, very nice, very nice indeed. Stay there, don't move a muscle"

He let go of my wrist and, in the mirror, I watched as he opened up his fly and pulled out his prick. Fortunately I also heard the sound of a condom packet being opened. I didn't want to have to ask him. In complete silence he came up behind me. He pushed my legs apart, pulled the leg of my panties to one side and the next thing I know I felt his prick against my bum hole.

"Ooh, Mr. Bothwick, I love it when a big strong man takes control."

"Shut it, slag."

One hand returned to my wrist, the other reached round, gripped my chin and held my face so that I was forced to stare into the mirror. He wanted me to watch; he wanted me to know exactly how helpless I was. I looked up and caught his eye. I felt like a frightened doe in the headlights but I guess that was the idea because he smiled at me, the smile of a predator enjoying their prey.

And all the while he's forcing himself inside me.

It was simultaneously one of the most frightening and one of the most exciting things that had ever happened to me. Mr. Bothwick was, quite obviously, a man used to taking what he wanted and, at that moment, what he wanted was Belinda Bombshell. If Belinda was fantasy me then this was very much part of the fantasy. Belinda, and the part of me that was Belinda, got her kicks from the thrill of being forcefully taken by men who wouldn't take no for an answer.

And Belinda wasn't going to hide the way that this turned her on. I couldn't speak but I didn't need to. My body language said it all.

"You're loving this, aren't you? How about, when I've finished, I call the boys in and they can all have a turn? Is that what you want? Is it?

I nodded, well, as much as could with him grasping my chin. I desperately hoped he didn't really mean it. Much as Belinda Bombshell was the good time who was had by all, the last thing Ben wanted was to be gang raped by Mr. Bothwick's thugs.

"Yeah, you can't get enough cock. That's all you want, cock, isn't it?"

Again I nodded. I could tell he was getting close. He was finding it harder to get the words out and his thrusting had an urgency about it.

"Look at me, slag, look at me!" I looked up again and caught his eye in the mirror and that was enough to push him over the edge. Crushing me against the edge of the dressing table, he pushed as deep as he could and exploded within me.

Except, of course, he didn't. Not for the first time I wished that the use of condoms wasn't so essential in what we were doing. I wanted to feel it, I wanted to feel it for real. The part of me that loved being taken wanted so badly to feel the cum squirt from his prick deep, deep inside me.

For a minute or two Mr. Bothwick kept me pinned to the dressing table while he got his breath back. The room was silent except for Mr Bothwick's heavy breathing and the sounds coming from the stage. It was some comedian and it would appear that his 'jokes' about 'Pakis' and mothers in law were finding favour almost as much as Jed and I had done.

With a grunt he pulled out. I wasn't sure what he wanted from me so I stayed there, watching in the mirror. It turned out the answer was nothing. He pulled off the condom and threw it in the bin, zipped himself up and left, without even a hint of goodbye. I just stood there, leaning forward over the dressing table, my skirt tucked up into its waistband, my legs apart and my panties around my knees. I knew what I must look like, my bare arse facing the door, but, at that moment, I didn't care. I felt completely drained.

"Nice pose, Belinda. What's up; ready and waiting for your next customer?" Tracy came back into the dressing room along with Jed and her mum.

"No... I..." I stuttered. But there was no way I could explain the roil of emotions running within me so I stood up straight, pulled up my panties and sorted out my skirt.

"Come on, it's time to meet your adoring public. Here, you'll need a stash of these," Tracy said, handing me a bundle of condoms from her handbag. When I asked where I should put them she pointed out that the skirt had pockets concealed within the flared material. I took the condoms from Tracy and, as I put them away I experimented with the way that, by having my hands in my pockets, I could make the skirt swirl and swing.

And then it was time to join the party. Jed and I had to wait for a gap between acts before going out, onto the stage and through into the party room. As we reached the edge of the stage I stopped and looked out across the room.

Even if I hadn't already met Mr. Bothwick it would have been easy to spot him. He was very much holding court, sat back in the place of honour with glad-handers all around and a pretty girl perched on one knee. It would seem that, front of house, Mr. Bothwick was very much the red blooded heterosexual. Whatever delights he might have found in my body were a strictly backstage thing.

I looked at the girl with interest. She was surely no older than me and, although she was smiling and playing up to Mr. Bothwick, I could recognise the fear in her eyes. She and I were kindred spirits, although we would almost certainly never meet.

"Come on, darlin', you can't stay up there all night," someone called out and, tottering slightly on my heels, I made my way down, off the stage and into the body of the room.

Although I was no longer of any interest to Mr. Bothwick, that didn't mean that I was left alone. As soon as I came down off the stage I was running a gauntlet of gropers, each and everyone of them seeming to think that I would welcome their clumsy fumbling and bottom pinching. I hadn't got more than ten feet from the stage before I was pulled into a group of lads where, ironically, I was actually safer. Oh, sure, they had no qualms about lifting my skirt and, as they put it, examining the goods, but, in front of their peers, no one was going to be openly violent.

There was quite a bit of banter about who would be first to 'have a go' and it didn't take long before I found out what they meant. The boldest dragged me off to the toilets and into one of the stalls. He pulled down his pants, sat on the toilet and ordered me down on my knees to give him a blow job.

That just about set the tone for the evening. The only difference between this and Mr Jarman's lads was that there was this pretence of privacy. I was just as used, indeed more so, but always in the toilets, surrounded by the reek of Jeyes fluid and stale urine. Round the party table each and every man of them was straight, even those who used me more than once; it was only in the toilets that their true nature came out.

By the time the evening was over the condom pocket was all but empty. On the other hand the other pocket, the one I used to stash my tips, was all but full. As ever the generosity was mixed and had nothing to do with how good, or otherwise, the blow job had been. It was Jed who came to get me, telling me that I was wanted backstage. I bid fond farewell to the group of lads I was currently "entertaining" and followed Jed back to the dressing room.

I was dead weary and more than delighted to take my shoes off. As I put them in their bag I noticed how badly the toes had become scuffed from all the kneeling. Then I stood up to take the skirt off and, before doing so, I emptied the pockets. As quick as a flash Tracy picked up not only the unused condoms but also the screwed up notes that made up my tips.

"Hey! What are you doing?"

"You settle up Monday, one o'clock in Mr H's office. Twenty five percent of this is his, remember?"

"But how do I know..."

"OK, I'll count it out, right here in front of you." She sorted out the notes, mostly twenties and put them in piles. "There, four twenty in total. Agreed?"

I agreed, I didn't have any choice. Jed also handed his tips over. He hadn't been anywhere like as busy as I had and had a mere one sixty. He gave me a rueful smile when the total was announced. I was beginning to see his point. He was used to being top dog and here I was, marching in and taking the lion's share of the tips. No wonder he hated me.

As quick as I could I changed into my track suit and tidied Belinda Bombshell away. It took a couple of baby wipes to get the bulk of the makeup off my face. The rest, including my nails, could wait until morning. Jed was waiting impatiently and I too wanted to get home.

"I was right, you know," Jed said to me as the car drove us through the all but deserted streets. "This one's got legs. I overheard Ned Kingston asking Mr. Mason if he could hire us for a do he's arranging. I'll bet my bottom dollar he wasn't the only one. Still, four twenty in tips alone. Can't complain about that, can you?"

And, with Jed's unspoken 'and I only got one sixty' echoing in my mind, we drove on through the grey light of morning.