That Whole WAM Thing Ch. 02

Our messy hero has been blindsided by his girlfriend and her best friends, stripped, pied, gunged and ruthlessly pleasured with a vibrator (see Part 1). Now it’s payback time…

I had turned up at Linda's the previous night at about six. I knew that she would be just back from work, and that she would offer me a drink. Linda was the most sociable of all of us, although ever since the night at Ursula's, our banter had had a slight edge - she had the goods on me, and she knew it.

She answered the door in her work clothes. "Oh, hi," she said, with a friendly smile. "Come in, have a glass of wine, you know where it is. I'm actually going out in a couple of hours but you want something to eat? You're welcome to root around." She showed me into the living room and I poured myself a glass of wine.

Linda was all over her flat, looking for odd items of clothing; she was going for dinner with friends, followed by some clubbing, and as usual her flat was in a state of chaos. She kept up the conversation, though, as she swept from one room to another. I sipped my wine and waited. Erin and I had more than once waited for Linda to get ready in this way, and I knew her routine.

Sure enough, after an hour or so, she seemed satisfied that she'd assembled enough clothes and she stuck her head in the living room door. "I'm just gonna take a shower," she said, exactly like I knew she would. "Don't mind do you? Help yourself to more wine if ya want some."

"No problem," I said.

"Cheers babe," she said, winked at me and vanished. I heard the door of her bedroom close, then a few minutes later it opened again. I heard footsteps on the landing, then the door of the bathroom opened and closed, and then I heard the sound of the shower running.

I waited for exactly three minutes - enough time for the water to get hot, and for Linda to get underneath it. When I judged she was in mid-shower, I picked up my bag and walked to the bathroom door.

Linda was humming to herself inside. I knocked, and the humming stopped.

"Yeah?" she said.

"Linda?" I said.

"Yes hon?"

"Uh, sorry about this," I said, "any idea when you'll be out?"

"You need the facilities?" she said, and I could hear her smiling.

"Sort of, yeah," I said. There was a pause, the water turned off, and the door was opened by Linda, who was very wet and wrapped in a towel. She grinned.

"Talk about timing…" she began, and then stopped, and looked at my hands. I was holding a digital camera and a large, catering size bottle of strawberry sauce. She looked up at my face and her grin faded.

"Oh you're not serious," she said flatly.

"I'm afraid so," I said.

"I'll scream, I'll fucking scream, and the cops will be here in five minutes," she said, backing away, into the steam-filled bathroom.

"Well, you could," I admitted. "But I would probably have to direct them to where you keep your coke, in that little tin in the drawer in the bedside table."

"Oh fuck!" she said, horrified. "You wouldn't!"

"Course I wouldn't," I said reasonably, "because you're gonna let this happen. It'll be a lot easier, it won't hurt, and there are only three other people who will ever know I did this to you, which is more than you can say for what you did to me. All it means is that you'll be a bit late for dinner, that's all." I smiled at her. Linda had retreated into the shower cubicle, and I had followed her every step of the way. She was actually trembling, clutching the towel to herself.

"Turnabout is fair play," I reminded her.

Linda swallowed, squared her jaw and looked me in the eye. I had always liked that about her, that she was game for anything.

"All right," she said in a resigned voice. "Fair is fair. But after this we're quits, right?"

"Absolutely," I said. She straightened up, and stood facing me, her arms by her sides.

"Go on then," she said, raised her face and squinted her eyes shut.

"Just one thing," I said, and I reached out, grabbed the edge of the towel, and yanked it, unravelling it from her plump body and stripping her suddenly nude. She opened her eyes and shrieked, covering herself with her arms, and I gleefully directed a stream of strawberry syrup into her face. It splattered over Linda's sexy features, and she coughed and spat, sinking to the floor with her knees drawn up.

I took photos as I squirted the entire contents of the bottle over Linda's head and bare shoulders, ripping the squeeze-cap off and allowing the last of it to flow over her face. She gasped and moaned, and massaged it into her large breasts, getting into the spirit of the thing. Then, when I was done, she opened her eyes, blushed, smiled and said "Okay, enough. You've made your point."

"We're not finished," I told her, and her eyes widened as I took out an entire bag of flour and burst it over her head. It billowed around the shower cubicle and settled on her, sticking to her syrupy skin, and she coughed. As she waved her arms in the air, trying to clear the clouds of flour, I broke six eggs on her head in succession, and she moaned as they slid over her face and down her body.

Linda was getting used to being naked now, and she lowered her knees. I noticed that her pubic hair was shaved to a narrow stripe. "You can touch yourself if you want to," I said in my friendliest tone. Linda's face and hair were clogged up with syrup, flour and eggs; she reached between the tops of her voluptuous thighs and stroked herself, breathing heavily.

I opened a catering tin of blacks trap molasses, and upturned it over Linda's head. The thick molasses seemed to take forever to fallout, but when it finally hit her scalp and slid down over her forehead, she turned up her face and moaned, allowing the rest of it to ooze over her eyes and nose. It slurped over her in thick gobs, picking up flour and egg yolk as it went, and her breath rasped as she stroked herself harder. Next came five litre jugs of raspberry yogurt, which turned her from messy black to pink with dark streaks. Linda squirmed. I was glad she was enjoying it.

I made her kneel, facing away from me, and I landed a chocolate cream pie on her ample, pink, naked ass, smearing it into her. She shuddered. Then I made her sit on the pie, cross-legged, and delivered four more pies - one square in her face, one on each side, and the last one on top. She sat, abject, her hands folded in her lap, the pie plates sticking to her head, and I took my best photo of the night so far. Then the plates fell off, clattering to the floor of the shower cubicle. Linda was indescribably filthy, and I knew that all the molasses and flour would be a bitch to get out of her hair. Still, she wouldn't be more than a couple of hours late for dinner.

"You're beautiful," I said as I packed the camera away. She sat, unmoving, only her mouth visible as she breathed through the clogged-up mess of flour, syrup, molasses, egg and pie gunge that covered her head.

"If you tell anyone apart from the others about this," she said quietly, "I will hunt you down and castrate you."

I reflected that she probably would, too. "Don't worry, babe," I said, and I gave her knee a reassuring pat. "My word is my bond. Just one thing - I plan to get the others, too, and if I turn up at anyone's place and find that you've warned them, these pictures get sent straight to your office. In the meantime, you're welcome to sit there and think about the wages of sin, but if you still want to make dinner on time, you'd better start cleaning yourself up." As I left the bathroom, I looked back and saw Linda on her knees, naked, groping blindly for the shower controls. I was laughing to myself about that all the way down the stairs.

*****

Erin was staring at the photo of Linda, nude on the floor of her shower, her head obscured by four oozing pie plates, her large pale body streaked with various unpleasant-looking substances. She looked up at me nervously.

"You've got something worse in mind for me?" she said.

"Oh yeah," I said. "Linda got off lightly. All she really did was fix the deck, and join in. Other people, though, needed something a bit more…intense."

I produced another photo and showed it to Erin. She blinked at it, controlling her expression, and looked at me..

“I can't even tell who that is,” she said.

"Look at the picture on the wall," I advised her. She looked again.

"I know that kitchen…oh my God!" she exclaimed. "That'sUrsula?"

"Yup," I said.

“B-but…why her? Why that?”

“Cause she was the one,” I said with an evil grin, “who went and got the Toy.”

Erin was perspiring. She looked scared, but only for a moment; the old defiant look came back into her eyes, she straightened up, tilted her chin and said "And now you're gonna tell me how it happened, right?" I admired her. Even when shackled to a kitchen chair, wearing only a scrappy pair of red panties, she still had dignity. At least, for now.

"Of course," I said cheerfully. I sat down on the sofa, opposite my girlfriend, and told her what had happened.

*****

I had driven straight from Linda's to Ursula's, changing out of my dirty outer clothes at traffic lights, and when I arrived and knocked on the door it was just eight-thirty. Ursula answered the door in her usual painting clothes of jeans and a black turtleneck sweater. "Ohhi," she said warmly. "This is nice. Come in."

She had just finished dinner, and she seemed pleased that I'd paid her a social call. Ursula's sex life tended to rely on having flings with the boyfriends of women she knew; for much of the rest of the time, she was usually too uptight and intense to attract a man - or at least, a man who actually liked her. She had a slim, rangy, athletic body, but her face tended to be grim and serious. She offered me a drink, and I accepted a glass of wine. Having only had half a glass at Linda's place, I was still perfectly sober.

We sat by the fire and chatted. She asked me how work was going, and I told her the usual stuff about boring routine. I asked her how her painting was going, and she said that for some time she had been painting life studies, but it was very difficult to get models.

"You wouldn't hire one, or go to a life class?" I asked. Ursula frowned.

"No," she said. "It's too expensive. And I don't like life classes, I don't like working around other people. Most of the time I use myself as a model."

"Oh yeah?" I said innocently. "How do you work that?"

"I use a mirror," she said. "You get used to it; but it, umm..." She giggled, and sipped some wine. "It can get a bit chilly."

"Really?" I said. "You paint yourself in, like..."

"In the nude, yeah," she said. "Right now it's the human body itself I'm interested in. Not clothes. Not the social self. The essential person."

"Right," I said. "You wouldn't ever ask your friends to pose?"

"Oh, no," she said. "That would be way too...I dunno. It wouldn't seem right. They'd probably say no, anyway."

"Well, it's not like you haven't seen most of us in the nude," I said with a smile. "Including me."

Ursula laughed and nodded. "Yeah. Mmm, that was a great night. I'm really sorry, we were a bit hard on you."

"It's okay," I said, "I liked it."

"Yeah, so Erin said," remarked Ursula, and sipped some wine with a flirtatious expression.

"I mean," I went on, "if you wanted me to pose for you, I would, you know."

Her eyes lit up, and she beamed. "Would you? Really?"

"Sure," I said casually. "I'd have no problem with that. On one condition."

"What?" she said, still smiling.

"That you'd pose for me. Just once. I always liked life drawing, I'd love to have a go just once with a real subject."

"What?" Ursula said, still eyeing me. "Nude?"

"Well, yeah," I said. "I mean, that's the real thing, like you said yourself. And it’s not like you haven’t seen me with my clothes off. In fact, you've done a few more things than that with me." I blushed, and Ursula chuckled quietly. "We don't need to tell Erin about it, or anything," I added. "This is about art, after all."

Ursula burst out laughing, and glanced at me, and sipped some wine, then fell silent for a moment. Then she smiled and nodded.

"Okay!" she said. "It's a deal. I suppose it's only fair."

"Wanna do it now?" I said, smiling and looking her straight in the eyes. She looked back at me for several seconds, and then she nodded again.

"Why not?" she said casually.

"I don't actually have any drawing stuff," I said, looking around. "Could you lend me some?"

"Sure," she said, and took a gulp of wine. "There's some over there on the table."

I got up and went to the table, where I found a pad of cartridge paper and some soft pencils. Ursula was still curled up on the sofa, looking at me with the expression of a sleepy and satisfied cat.

"So, okay," I said. "How do we do this?"

She put her wine glass down and spread her arms. "Where do you want me?" she said.

"How about... the kitchen table," I suggested. "The light's best over there." She nodded and stood up.

As Ursula walked the few paces to the kitchen table, she pulled her black turtleneck over her head and threw it aside, then unclipped her baggy jeans and let them slide down her legs; then she reached behind her, unfastened her bra and threw it off - and finally, slid her black panties down over her lean, muscular hips and stepped out of them. Naked, she climbed up onto the table, turned and looked at me. I was impressed with how unselfconscious she was about her own nudity. Her body was somewhat skinny, pale and covered with the freckles of a redhead, but her ass was firm and her breasts, though small, were beautifully shaped. She lay on one side on the table, leaning her head on an outstretched arm, and smiled at me seductively.

"What sort of pose?" she asked. "Glamorous?"

"How about just kneeling for now?" I said, feeling my excitement build. Ursula raised herself up and knelt on the table, her hands folded demurely in her lap. Her arms pushed her breasts together, forming a shallow cleavage. She smiled naughtily. I came over, put the paper and pencils down, and faced her.

"Ursula, I have to admit something," I said.

"What?" she said, looking faintly puzzled.

"I was actually planning to do some photographic work," I said. She blushed slightly, and put one arm over her breasts.

"What do you mean?" she asked in a slightly worried tone.

"It's about that night here, with you and Erin and Linda and Lucy," 1 explained. "The thing itself was one thing, but... did you have to go and tell everyone about it?"

By now, Ursula was looking alarmed. The tension in the room was rising. "But... we thought you were okay with it! It was fun!" she protested.

"Yeah, but you went and told all your friends. You showed them the pictures. There's nothing I can do about that now. I just want some, well, closure." I grinned at her. I could see her working out what I meant, and a horrified look came over her face.

"Oh no! No! You can't!"

"All I want is a certain amount of payback. It's not going to go any further than the people who were in that room - at least, in your case, it's not."

"No fucking way!" she exclaimed, and started to get off the table.

"Ursula," I said quietly, "if you don't let this happen, I'm gonna have to tell Marie that you've been sleeping with Paul…"

Ursula froze. Marie was one of her best friends, and I knew from Erin that Ursula had been carrying on with Marie's boyfriend. The only thing that Ursula cared about as much as her painting, and her flings with the guys she knew, was her fear of being discovered as a boyfriend-stealer. She realised that she was trapped. She pulled her bare knees up to her naked chest and hugged them to herself, staring at me.

"What are you going to do to me?" she whispered. I shrugged and smiled.

"Not as much as you did to me," I said. "But something close. I think it's best if you just let it happen."

She stared at me for a long moment, and I was briefly scared that she was going to scream, or attack me - but then she closed her eyes, sagged, and smiled weakly.

"Oh God," she muttered. "I should have known we wouldn't get away with it. ... Tell me what you want me to do."

"Attagirl!" I said. "Kneeling again, please. Don't worry, it won't be as messy as the thing in your bathroom."

Ursula unfolded her naked body and knelt, folding her hands in her lap once again and shaking her head resignedly. She rolled her eyes.

"Just one thing," I said. "Remember you're posing. Make it look good for the camera."

"Who else is going to see these?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"Just Erin, Lucy and Linda. I've already been to Linda. Look!" I showed her the photo of Linda that I'd printed off from my laptop on the way to her house. She looked at it intently and actually laughed.

"Oh God," she muttered. "We should never have done you in the first place."

"It's not the doing I minded," I said as I took my camera and various other things out of my bag. "It's the telling everyone about it. I think you'll find I'm more discreet."

Ursula knelt, still and silent, while I unpacked several large bottles of chocolate sauce and an extremely large cake box - plus one small item that I slipped into my pocket.

I walked over to her, holding a bottle of chocolate sauce in each hand, and smiled reassuringly. She held my gaze the whole way, and I got up on a chair, opened the bottles and held them over her head.

"You ready?" I asked.

"Yes," she breathed. I wasn't sure that she wasn't getting off on it after all. I upturned the bottles, and the opaque chocolate sauce flowed down over Ursula's forehead and face, trickling over her hair and dripping off her pink nipples onto her pale thighs. She moaned quietly. I emptied the bottles over her head, and massaged the sauce thoroughly into her thick red hair. She made a faint sigh of protest as her hair was slicked back under the sauce, but then she joined me and rubbed it over her naked torso, hips and crotch.

"Good girl," I said. "You're doing great. Keep it up." I took two more bottles and emptied them over her too, and this time she licked it up, smearing it over her naked breasts, stomach and thighs. I got her to go on her hands and knees and I poured more over her bare shoulders, back and ass, this time rubbing it in myself, and she wriggled a little and whimpered softly.

I used four more bottles, and by the time I had emptied them over Ursula’s lean, naked body, she was thoroughly besmeared with thick, glossy chocolate sauce. She looked feral, weirdly pagan, her back arching with pleasure, naked and glistening on her hands and knees on the table. I took a few good pictures, then I opened the cake box and brought it over to where her head was.

"You like cake, don't you?" Ursula opened her eyes, blinking, and focused on the large round yellow cake I had placed in front of her. It was about two feet tall, and the same distance in diameter. She sniffed it, and got the scent of lemon icing.

“I looove cake,” she sighed. She looked almost blissful, as she relaxed into the humiliation.

"Well, you can have some if you just bear with me for a few minutes," I said. And from my pocket, I took a double vibrator, with twin translucent tips for both the pussy and the anus. I held it up before her eyes and turned it on, and I smiled at her disbelieving expression.

"Oh no," she moaned. "No! Not that!"

"Fair's fair, Ursula," I observed. "You did the same to me. Nobody asked you to go and get yours from upstairs." And I placed the quivering tip against the lips of Ursula's pussy.

She quivered and gasped. "No! Oh, please, no! Not in there! I...no!"

I teased her labia and the hood of her clit, moving the tip around. She was panting for breath and her breasts were shaking beneath her. When I was sure she was ready, I pushed the tip of the longer prong into her vagina, and Ursula moaned loudly "AaaAANNHH!" Then, as I eased it in, I made sure that her ass was well lubricated, smearing a generous handful of KY between her tight, rather bony buttocks - then I grabbed her around her naked thighs, to hold her hips in position, and gently but firmly pushed the other tip up against the ring of Ursula's anus. She was shaking with lust, making loud and incoherent noises of arousal, so I pushed the twin prongs into her, penetrating her in her pussy and her anus simultaneously, watching them slide into her as far as they could go, until just the base of the vibrator was sticking out from between Ursula's slim, chocolate-smeared buttocks.