The Directors Ch. 02

They showered, separately, despite the insistence of his cock, which desired a soapy, slippery few minutes in one or all of her holes. Then they went to the hotel's pool to swim for an hour, which seemed silly after a shower, but turned out to be relaxing nonetheless. It was in the corner booth of a restaurant far outside town that Melissa once again addressed their situation.

"I have a thought," she began, as they waited for the entrees to arrive. "I have an idea on how we can get ourselves some insurance against these guys tonight. Not stop them or anything. But maybe get a picture of one of them that we can use later on, if we need to." She paused, taking a big swallow of her margarita. "The thing is, the bait, it's something that you're not going to like. But I think the cost is worth the reward."

She was using her logical, lawyer talk. That was never good. It meant she was proposing something that he'd likely be emotional about. And not in a good way. He listened carefully while she explained it. It didn't take long. And he was, initially, inclined to say no. But she was right. The reward would be something worth the risk. Something to ensure that their blackmailers wouldn't be going back on their deal.

"It could work, if it all comes together," he commented, once the server had cleared their dinner dishes away and left the table. "But a lot of pieces have to come together."

"I can't be on the Mix," she pointed out. "I need to have a clear head."

"And, you want to see what it's like not being high for the occasion," he interjected. "I figured as much when you kept putting off getting the ingredients all day. It'll just be you, me, and whatever liquid courage we can drink between now and then," he warned.

"Silly boy," she said teasingly, patting his hand. "Sometimes when we're doing it at home, I pretend that people are watching us. It gets me hot. So, now that people are really watching us, it's not all that different. it's the blackmail part that pisses me off."

"We'll need condoms," he replied, his mind already imagining what was to come.

"Absolutely," she replied, as the waiter brought their dessert. "I'm not suicidal."

What with dinner and dessert and a quick stop at an art gallery that turned into a purchase that took much longer than expected to complete, they arrived back at the hotel with only a few minutes to spare.

They found a note on the floor by the door instructing them to dress as they'd been instructed and wait for a call at eight o'clock. Melissa pulled on the leather teddy, which thankfully fit, while Ted stuck with a t-shirt and shorts. The instructions had been markedly lacking in regard to what he wore. Sexists.

While they waited for the call, Ted put his camera on a tripod near the sofa, setting it to capture someone kneeling along the foot of the bed. If these bastards were going to get so many erotic photos of his wife, so was he. He'd positioned the tripod to make sure it wasn't in the way of the hidden cameras. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain, he thought.

The phone rang precisely at eight. There was no chance it wasn't the expected callers. Ted had called the kids while on the way back to the hotel, and learned that his mother-in-law was continuing to spoil them by taking them to a nighttime movie. They, of course, were thrilled that Grandma was treating them just like adults. Not like stodgy ol' Mom and Dad.

"Yep?" Ted said into the headset, holding the earpiece away from his head so that Melissa could hear too.

"You have not bought everything exactly as ordered," a harsh voice said. "There will be a penalty for that."

A new voice. Interesting. Ted thought he had met all the players in this drama. But not this one. Was he new? And more importantly, what were his weak points, as opposed to the guy who had mostly run the show the prior night? Could they manipulate this guy in any way?

"I, um, I thought they were suggestions," Ted carefully lied. The key to a good lie is to keep it close to the truth. "We got the things you wanted us to get. And look, my wife is wearing her teddy." And looking damn fine in it too, Ted didn't add aloud. Any idiot could see that black leather made her look extremely sexy.

"You failed to follow directions," the voice grated. "So have your bitch suck your cock right now."

His bitch? Who was this guy? And was that supposed to be the punishment? "He wants you to suck my cock," he explained to Melissa. "The man of the phone. The blackmailers from last night," he added lamely. He was starting to realize that it was hard to act like you don't have something up your sleeve.

"Mmmmm-mmmmm, the blackmailers," Melissa moaned, overacting as well. "Are they watching us now, you dirty boy?" she murmured, stretching out on the bed. "Do those bad ol' blackmailers want me to take your cock in my mouth?"

He wondered if this scene was as painful to watch as it was to act in. How could their tormentors not notice that their behavior had changed? He had to get this situation under control before they started getting questions they didn't want to answer. Even though, technically, they hadn't done anything against instructions. Yet.

"Yes, bitch, suck my cock," he said forcefully, dropping his shorts and kneeling atop her so he could push his dick into her mouth. She caught the change in his attitude immediately and simply went to work on his shaft, swallowing whatever smart remark she'd been ready to use as a reply.

"That's right. Fuck her face. Fuck her throat," the new voice said. "She's going to pay for your disobedience. She's going to wish tonight never happened."

Despite the hot mouth around his cock, Ted felt a chill go down his spine. He hadn't thought it possible, but their situation had just gotten much worse. He didn't know what his limits were, what he would refuse to do to his wife, and what the consequences might be. But this man sounded like he might make Ted go to those limits. This man wasn't just about sex. He was about violence.

At the man's orders, Ted fucked his wife's mouth like it was a cunt, sliding his cock in and out of her mouth, a pussy slit gone sideways. He was hard now, very hard, the power of the Viagra pill swimming through his veins, turning his cock into a hot iron rod. In the bright lights of the room he could see every ridge as it disappeared into her eager mouth, watched it glisten as he pulled it out, only to thrust it back inside again. It was like fucking her missionary style, except there was no torso to get in the way of where he wanted to put his hands for balance. Just him, thrusting downwards, fucking her mouth.

"Yes! Make the bitch pay! Fuck her throat, the dirty whore!" the voice encouraged in his ear. "They're all cheating whores. They all need a good hard fucking every night, just to remind them who's in charge. Now open up her clothing so we can see her filthy tits!"

The man sounded Russian, Ted realized. He'd been away from his home country for some time, he guessed. But he had that rough, grating sound. And the coarseness of such a man. Pulling his dick from his wife's drooling mouth, he slowly unzipped the top of the teddy, bit by bit, until her boobs finally popped free. He could hear the man's harsh breathing in his ears, could tell that he was masturbating while watching Melissa on whatever monitors they were using. His wife, on display for this filthy pervert.

"Grab her tits! Hard! Harder! Make those nipples pop out! Really squeeze them! Or I'll come down there and do it for you." Ted looked down at his wife with an apologetic expression, even as he grabbed her boobs and squeezed hard. "Yeah! Twist those filthy titties! Make her know that it's not nice to tease everyone by showing them off in slutty clothes. Not nice at all. Now slap 'em! Slap each one. Spank her titties. Both those filthy whore titties," the man ordered harshly. Melissa looked up fearfully. She could overhear the man's orders. And could tell that this was not going the way they had thought it would.

Even with all the toys, they'd expected no more than a few hours of exposure and sucking and fucking. There were really only so many ways one guy could fuck one woman. And if the orders were a little perverted, that wouldn't be cause for worry. Because this was definitely going to go down as one of those 'what happens on vacation stays on vacation' kind of nights. Never to be mentioned again. A secret between them.

But now, this new player in the game was making it clear that there were other, more despicable things that Ted could be made to do. Things that wouldn't be so easy to pretend that they'd really wanted to do. Things that wouldn't be so easy to forget.

Ted tried to pretend he was painfully squeezing Melissa's breasts without really squeezing them hard. He couldn't tell by her writhing and gasps whether he was hurting her or if she was just acting. He grabbed her nipples with his thumbs and forefingers and pulled hard. That was something they'd done before. She'd told him that it looked worse than it hurt. It did look impressive, the way her tit flesh was stretching as he tugged upwards. It looked like it hurt.

The voice in his ear was moaning in a guttural way. If the guy blew his load, would he give up on his orders to treat her so roughly? Or would he continue with this line of torture? Ted hoped it was the former but feared it was the latter. Men like that, men who really found pleasure in hurting women, usually weren't in it for just the sexual pleasure. They had deeper, darker needs. Or so he'd read.

A sudden squeal in the earpiece caused him to wince in pain. He heard banging and thrashing sounds, excited talking, cursing, a man yelling "And why didn't you stop him?" Then mutterings, some soft swooshing, and silence.

Ted let go of his wife's nipples, noticing distractedly that they looked no worse for the wear. Some sort of struggle, he mouthed down at her in response to her questioning look. He wondered if their the folks on the other end of the phone had gotten busted by the police; if there was some way to keep this quiet if that was the case. He trusted the hick cops up here about as much as he trusted their blackmailers. Less, in fact.

"Ted? Ted? Sorry about that," the voice from the night before was back on the line. "Just a little misunderstanding with one of our colleagues," the man explained, his voice betraying more than a little anger. "We've got it all worked out. Are you ready to have some fun?"

Ted let some of the anger bleed into him. Their plan depended on having this man/boy/whatever in charge. And it would be suspicious is he was too compliant. "Well, I'm not sure that I believe you," he said obstinately, climbing off his wife and beginning to pace the room. "How do we know that that little confrontation didn't make your 'friend' decide to expose our pictures and videos without you knowing it? You know, as revenge or something? I'm not sure I'm buying that whole guarantee as much. And how do I know that there's not others in your 'group' who are siding with that guy? Nobody stopped him, after all."

Silence. Had he pushed it too far? "Well, Ted, I can see your side of it. And there's not much more I can do to assure you that our deal remains the same as it was yesterday. Except, maybe, I guess, hear it right from our lips. So, tell you what I'm going to do. Each person is going to tell you that they're going to stick to the deal. And then, after that, I don't want to hear anything more about it. Cuz your wife is getting hornier and hornier the more we talk, and you need to be doing something about that."

Ted looked back at his wife. She was indeed rubbing her bare legs together in that unmistakable 'come hither' gesture that all women seemed to possess. What had gotten into her? He didn't have time to pursue that line of inquiry as the phone clicked in his ear and a voice he'd never heard said simply, "I promise." Click. Then another. And another. A growled "Promise," from the Russian man. And just like that he knew far more about them than he had before. Four men. One woman. He doubted that any others were hiding in the woodwork. There'd be no reason for anyone to remain in hiding.

"So, that's finished," the man said. "Now, on to other, more enjoyable things. Like that very hot teddy that your wife is wearing. And how, after reviewing the footage from last night, there's a few shots we'd like to get again. You know, just to capture her beauty in all its magnificence." The man chortled. Evidently the previous incident was closed in his mind.

Ted turned to his wife, her breasts bare and inviting against the black leather. "They want you to model for them. Show them how you can lick your own nipples to get yourself turned on." He'd made up those instructions himself, not only because it helped turn her on, but it also had the same effect on him. He needed to get back to the place he'd been in last night, compliant yet horny, high-functioning yet sexually aggressive. It was the fantastical nature of everything that had let him get through the night without blowing up. He needed that again.

The next half our was spent with Melissa once again displaying every nook and cranny in her body to the cameras. She knelt obediently on the floor while he pulled open her ass cheeks, piercing her anal ring with his finger when ordered, or pulling apart her pussy lips so they could see the wet depths inside. On their orders, she lay on her back and bent her legs backwards until she could capture them under her arms, placing her in one of his favorite positions for deeply penetrating both of her holes. He rubbed ice on her nipples until they were excruciatingly hard, played with her clit until her juices were running out her slit, and even tickled her until she gasped and begged for mercy. Every direction was accompanied by the order to take strip off more and more of her teddy. Soon she was completely naked in the bright room lights, the teddy a forgotten lump of leather in the middle of the floor.

During it all, Ted tried to get into the feeling of the moment, but was finding it difficult. Too many of the things they were having her do were fetishes on the internet. Who was to say that they wouldn't sell the tickling portion to a tickleme.com, or some such site? Were those close-ups of her pussy headed to some cunt-lovers site? And there were more anal sites on the internet than all the businesses in the world. What was to stop them? Would he even know until it was too late?

It was Melissa, still playing the part of wanton slut from the night before, who finally pulled him into the moment. "Enough fooling around," she purred. "Fuck me. Fuck me now!" She curled herself back into the position with her legs locked almost behind her head, her slit wet with desire, her asshole stretched and ready for invasion.

Ted didn't wait for direction or confirmation. His cock was thrumming with anticipation, the blood pulsing so hard he thought the whole world must be able to hear it. He crouched over her, lust clouding his vision, until all he could see were individual parts of her. Dark eyes sparkling with a desire to serve. A nipple, erect and creviced, poking out and begging to be licked. Silky thighs leading down to a V, his for the taking. A tuft of her long hair settled on her forehead. Her pubic patch, neatly trimmed, pointing to the place where he planned to enact a violent incursion. The curve of her foot in his peripheral vision. The pillows bunched up behind her. Her ass cheeks, tight and sweeping back. Her lips, parted. Her tongue, questing.

He brought himself up, coiled, his cock tip resting against her pussy lips. Then, uncoiled, thrusting down and into her, that first penetration still as good as the first time they'd ever been together. She gasped in his ear. He kissed her top lip, the tip of her nose, her eyelashes. Then pulled out slowly, watching between her bodies as his manhood left her womanhood, the shaft slick and coated with her steaming liquids, all in readiness for the next stroke and the next and the next.

He kept things random, responding immediately to his body's subliminal requests, not evaluating them or even thinking about them. Just doing whatever came into his mind. He pulled out completely, pulled clear, then unexpectedly slammed his cock back into her waiting hole, spearing her, violently penetrating that which was so freely offered to him. Down, down he ground against her, trying to get even more of himself into her. If the voice in his ear was talking he couldn't hear it... his pulse pounded violently, drowning out all other sounds. He let his shaft gyrate within her. She was still so tight. So wet.

So hot, like a volcano bubbling within her. He imagined the lava flowing inside her. And then his jizz, spurting from his cock like a fire hose, cooling and hardening that lava, robbing it of its heat, smothering it in white, sticky goo. He could see it, cum spurting out, coating her insides. Cum dripping down the walls. Cum filling up the cavern. Cum spilling out the entrance. He felt vast. Powerful. He could fill her up. Fill her right now.

"Her ass," the voice interrupted his fantasy. "Take her ass now. Just the way she is. Fuck her ass now." The voice sounded breathless. From how many angles were they watching this? He wanted to see it. Wanted it recorded forever. Wanted to jack off to it when he got home.

Her ass. He'd been planning to move to that. Just then. Just before the voice in his head had said that. He hated that voice, ordering him around like this. It was his decision on how to fuck his wife. Not someone else's. Not some unseen body in some unseen room hiding behind a telephone. He'd do it though. There was something about a plan. He couldn't remember what, but it had to do with her ass. Her anus. That tight, dirty hole. He looked down. His wife, his slut had heard those orders. She looked up at him. Then closed her eyes and mouthed one word: Please.

He sat back, pulling out of her cunt with an audible pop. He eyed his cock. It gleamed in the bright lights, slick with her juices. He eyed her tight anus. Squeezed shut. Squeezed... Oil! That's what he'd been thinking about. He needed some oil to lubricate his way into her void. He grabbed the bottle, pumped some onto his cock, then pumped his hand back and forth to distribute it.

He went in slow. Very slow. Excruciatingly slow. He wanted them to witness every inch, every atom of his manhood disappearing into her tightness. He could imagine it in his mind's eye. The slow entry. The oil being wiped off the shaft. The grudging give of her anal ring as his thickness increased. Her ass stretched out painfully. The mushroom head finally in. The shaft once again widening, forcefully stretching her hole to accommodate it. He remembered, now, what the plan was. They needed to be mesmerized by the anal act he was perpetrating on his wife. They needed to be drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. They needed to want to do it themselves.

Now that he remembered the plan, he kept it firmly tucked in a safe space in his brain. They couldn't suspect for a second that he had any other reason to be fucking his wife's ass other than their orders to do just that. It was high stakes poker. Poke-her, he joked, smiling outwardly at his word play. They would see his smile as one of pleasure, not as part of a nefarious plan to beat them at their own game.

He was only a quarter of the way in but resisted the urge to speed up his penetration. He wanted it to last and last, and be caught in all its slow-motion, color-camera glory. By now a bead of oil would've been built up around his cock shaft as her tight anus squeegeed it from his rod. Their cameras where good enough to capture that, hopefully. He'd positioned her so that three of the cameras were capturing what he could not see himself. He could feel her moving her ass insistently, losing herself in her desire and urging him to speed his intrusion. She'd forgotten the plan, just as he had earlier in the evening. That was OK. The more passion she displayed, the better.