The Honeypot Ch. 03

[This story is a continuation of the preceding two chapters, and I strongly urge that you read them first in order to fully understand and enjoy this chapter. I have placed it under the Mature category as that is one of its main aspects, but it also has Anal, Voyeur, Group Sex, Spanking, and Bisexual aspects. If any of those are not to your taste, you had best look elsewhere for a story more to your liking. All characters are over 18 and consensual adults.]

Newly settled in London, Neil begins to take charge of the Honeypot

Once I returned to Chicago, all my attention was focused on accepting Mary's and Henry's invitation to work with them at their smut shop in Soho. They took care of the particulars for obtaining my work visa to join their business. I suppose that it took no great talent for me to qualify for such employment, but perhaps Mary smoothed my path with a select application of oral attention to bureaucratic requirements. If she did, I hope she enjoyed it. The results certainly facilitated my way into a new career opportunity.

At college, I'd had an English major, which was virtually worthless, but a minor in Business, which was much more useful. I knew my way around a profit-loss statement and the fine points of business expense deductions. It didn't take long for me to position myself at the heart of The Honeypot's financial fine points, such as they were.

Suffice it to say that The Honeypot was skirting along on the edges of financial legality, with much that was rather vague when you got down to particulars. As best I could, I tried to clean up such details and put the shop on firmer financial footing. Of course we had to deal with the Mob who ruled Soho's dens of sin, but Mary's appetites served to take care of their protection schemes. I was beginning to see how things worked out in Soho.

The Honeypot's 'stock', such as it was, was well behind the times and rather pathetic when one began to consider the range of what was now out there. We did have choice items by Eric Stanton, Gene Bilbrew, and John Willie, but a new generation of kinky customers barely knew who these masters of perversity were. I set about revamping our mail-order catalogs into must-have collectors' items in their own right, spotlighting our best stock with detailed descriptions, and gradually hiking prices on items that had been sorely under-priced.

With Henry as my guide, I found treasures in the Honeypot's storeroom, sometimes in cartons that were still unopened after a decade or two of gathering dust. Mint-condition runs of 'London Life' from the '20s and '30s were worth their weight in gold and priced accordingly. An overlooked stash of Irving Klaw's bondage photos - many featuring Bettie Page in all her glory - helped fuel the growing collectors' market for vintage kink. The punk scene's fondness for bondage gear and 'in your face' shock upped our walk-in traffic, especially once I persuaded Mary and Henry that some brash new shop signage was called for and we began to run small spot ads in the 'New Musical Express'.

I considered it a personal triumph when Siouxsie and the Banshees showed up one afternoon and we had them up for tea and biscuits and a discrete dash of titillation.

Perhaps most importantly, I had the front shop space totally cleaned and overhauled, with our best stock no longer hidden in back, but tastefully displayed in glass showcases.

Needless to say, this boom in business increased the number of "choice prospects" for Mary's carnal cravings, and the old coot and I had to exert serious 'quality control' on who got invited up for a bit of jolly fun and hospitality. Henry was still in charge of vetting potential 'guests', a task he had down to an Art, but we had to be far more discrete in how and when appropriate young men might be entertained. If we had a half dozen walk-ins in the shop, it didn't really work to pull one aside with all the others present and take them up the stairs. Ironically, I was among the last of the 'spur of the moment' invitees, as the flow of regulars and new prospects required careful scheduling and a reworking of shop hours. Mornings and early evenings were now reserved for Mary's trysts by appointment, with the shop only open for walk-in customers from Noon to 5:00.

For most of Mary's appointments, it worked best for the old coot to take them up and stick around to play his twin role of wanking cuckold and watch dog. I wasn't the inveterate voyeur that he was, and my time was better spent minding the shop and taking care of mail orders and bookkeeping. Now and then, if I found one of the fantasy appointments especially intriguing, I would swap myself in to watch the show, but to be perfectly honest, I found it a little depressing to watch my Soho Goddess take on all comers, some of whom were frankly rather disgusting.

Mary accommodated me as a regular once a week, or sometimes twice if there was a lull in the parade of horny young studs. It was part of the Honeypot's benefits package for its sole employee, and I always looked forward to it. Her combination of elegant charm and utter slutiness had hooked me from the moment I first met her, and it wasn't long before she knew my twisted little fetishes so well that I could just wind her up and let her go, as it were.

More often than not, she would just come to my bed in my room and we would go at it privately, though we did like to invite the old coot in for a DP on a regular basis. There was something rather cozy about the three of us all plugged into each other that was oddly heartwarming in a dissolute kind of way. A polyamorous relationship had never attracted me, but willy nilly I found myself in one with this odd couple. It's funny where life takes you.

* * *

One late afternoon, early on, when things were still pretty loose and slow at the Honeypot, Henry and I were tending the shop when the doorbell rang. The old coot pressed the buzzer under the counter and the door lock released and in walked a very attractive willowy young lady, nicely dressed in heels, a floral skirt, white cotton blouse, and a light knee-length unbuttoned coat. She was carefully made up, with nicely shaped brows and light red lipstick of the sort that was popular back then. Her blonde hair was carefully coiffed in a style that was reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe.

"Brigette!" the old coot exclaimed, as if greeting an old friend, "Where have you been keeping yourself? So nice to see you!"

The young lady flashed a dazzling smile and walked over and gave the old coot a little kiss on his cheek. She spotted me nearby and raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Now, who's this, Henry? Don't tell me you've taken on an employee?

"This is Neil, my dear. Brigette, Neil. Neil, Brigette. He's a Yank, of all things, terribly bright and a real bookman. Mary and I took a liking to him and persuaded him to move in with us and help build up the shop. He's been with us for, what, six months now?"

Brigette stepped over to me, gave me the warmest smile, and offered me her hand.

"I am very pleased to meet you, Neil. Aren't Mary and Henry just super? I always have such a good time when I drop by. It has clearly been far too long since my last visit. I've been a bad girl, Henry. Please forgive me."

"I'll consider it, but only if you agree to come up and have a nice refreshing cocktail with us and tell us what you've been up to. We have some catching up to do."

"I'd be delighted, and I do hope that Neil might join us as well?"

"Yes, of course. It's cocktail hour and we can close the shop for the day. Why don't you go on up and surprise Mary. We'll be right up after we lock up and close the till."

We watched her pass through the door to the back and the stairs. She clearly knew her way around.

The old coot gave me a wink and a grin.

"You, my boy, are in for a treat! They broke the mold when they made Brigette. A Martini or two and watch out! I think she's taken a liking to you."

"Holy shit!" I thought to myself. "I fucking love this job."

* * *

We were halfway up the staircase when we heard Brigette shout "Surprise!" and Mary gave a squeal of joy that could probably be heard a block away. When we walked into the kitchen, the two women were hugging like long lost friends and squealing in delight.

"I had better get on with the Martinis, old boy. Happy Hour has arrived!"

Mary spied Neil and asked Brigette, "Have you met Neil, yet?"

"I did indeed! I gather that he passed your rigorous testing?"

"With flying colors, my dear. He's become part of the family. Neil please come over here and give our dear friend a welcoming hug. I'm sure she won't bite! No, I take that back. She can bite with the best of them, but only at the right time and in the right places."

The two lovely women giggled like schoolgirls, and Brigette held out her arms to me as I walked over and embraced her closely. I could feel her pert little titties pressing against my chest, and I was certain she could feel my stiffened prick tenting out my trousers.

I don't know which brand of perfume Brigette was wearing but it added a subtle fresh scent to her presence, especially in combination with her blonde head of hair which smelled like it had just been washed. She darted her pink tongue out and mischievously licked my lips for just a second and then drew it back into her mouth. Then just as quickly, she gently bit my lower lip and then grinned.

If she was trying to provoke me, she succeeded, as almost without thinking I broke the hug and reached up and tweaked her nipples through her blouse. She gave me a sultry smile and pinched my swollen cock through my trousers.

We were like a pair of five year olds, each trying to tease the other until a limit was reached and one of us cried for our mother. Just then, the old coot turned around from the kitchen counter with a tray of Martinis in hand and shooed us all into the drawing room.

"Now children, please behave!" he ordered, while he waited for Mary to direct the seating. She had Brigette and me sit beside each other on the settee, where we had trouble keeping our hands to ourselves, while she chose the padded arm chairs for Henry and herself. The old coot distributed the Martinis and the ritual proceeded. Henry led a toast to our lovely guest and she graciously accepted our raised glasses and raised her own.

"To our dear friend Brigette, who has not visited us in far too long and has been a very bad girl!"

Brigette blushed, but acknowledged her social gaff. We all took a good sip of our dry but dirty Martinis and they had their usual effect. We all leaned back like we had been zapped and had to regain our bearings.

"Heavens, Henry!" Brigette exclaimed, "I've suddenly remembered what I've been missing. I need to write in my planner at least monthly, 'Visit the Honeypot for Happy Hour! You will not regret it!'"

Mary gave Brigette a rather stern look and said, "Indeed you do, you naughty girl, but I'm afraid we can't let you off easy for being so MIA. You need a vigorous spanking to help you remember. Neil, would you do us the honor?"

How could I say no? Brigette was clearly a tart, second only to Mary, and she had returned to the Honeypot expecting to be punished. I had foreseen this once she declared herself a bad girl when she first came into the shop. I didn't know her backstory with my employers, but I guessed that a sound spanking was her way of launching herself into orbit.

"My pleasure, Mary," I affirmed. "Brigette, assume the position and drape yourself across my lap."

She was clearly not about to argue, as she had been angling for this since she rang the shop's doorbell. Once she put herself in place, I hiked up her skirt and yanked her knickers down to her knees. Her bum was wonderfully smooth but something was a bit amiss. There, peeking through her spread legs were what looked like a pair of hairy balls attached to a semi-rigid prick.

"Oh ho!" I thought, "Brigette is a very naughty girl indeed!"

My experience with trans or trannies or whatever was the current correct term was very limited. I was intrigued by the juxtaposition of fluid gender identities, but I was not one to especially seek them out.

On the other hand, having s wriggling T-girl in my lap, craving a spanking and flaunting her still intact male naughty bits, was a powerful kink that had me stiffened and dripping.

I started smacking her buns, first one then the other, repeatedly. Clearly, she craved this punishment. Whatever the reason, we were each on the same wavelength and she was barreling towards a mighty finish.

"Brigette, Brigette, Brigette," I whispered, "You are so bad and you are driving me mad. Once your spanking is through, we will pound ourselves into oblivion. Prepare yourself for annihilation."

Our unthrottled passion was contagious and both Mary and Henry were fondling themselves juicily and without inhibitions. Everyone took a moment to enjoy another gulp of Martini and we were off to the races. Brigette was hurtling toward a grand cum, rubbing herself against my engorged member and giving little shouts of passion as I continued to smack her buns.

It suddenly occurred to me that if Brigette came just now I'd have her spunk all over my trousers crotch. We had gotten so carried away that neither of us had properly stripped. I paused my spanks and lightly rubbed my palm soothingly around on her tush. She let out a murmur of exasperation in being denied her release, but it was all for the best. The night was young and there was much catching up to get to. I gave her tush a final pat and evicted her from my lap.

"Sorry to bring things to a halt, my dear, but I realized that we were getting ahead of ourselves. Why, we're still fully dressed and you still need to explain your absence for so long."

I gave Mary and the old coot a look and they nodded in agreement.

"Neil's quite right, Brigette darling. Sit yourself back down on your stinging bum and catch us up on your activities. You've had your overdue spanking, so let's hear your excuses for your extended absence! They had better be good."

* * *

As Brigette told us in vivid detail, she had been traveling around the Continent, especially the Mediterranean, and had charmed her way into the circles of the rich and famous, partying with the likes of Gore Vidal and Jackie Onassis. Whether these antics exactly qualified as 'good' excuses for her absence here was open to question, but her gossip about the sexual proclivities of the Princess of Monaco and the Shah of Iran was highly entertaining and stimulating.

Henry repaired to the kitchen to mix-up reinforcements along with some finger food, and between the second round of cocktails and Brigette's sassy tales, we were all quite stirred up and ready for some naughty fun. Mary and our guest made a sexy show of disrobing each other, save for their thigh-highs and pumps. It was not clear to me where Brigette stood in her trans-formation, other than that she had had a very high-calibre tit-job, but had so far left her original equipment alone. If she was taking hormones, she must not have gotten very far, as her lovely prick was at full attention and oozing pre-cum.

In every regard but one, Brigette was a lovely vision of complete femininity. From her sultry voice, movements and bearing, to her perky little titties with their hardened pointy nipples, she was the complete package - a beautiful woman who radiated sensuality and desire. Even her prick was circumcised, its rather small head giving it the look of an over-sized clit. Any pubes had been waxed away, save for her hairy ball sack, which she had left untouched as a lewd little reminder that she had once been a different creature altogether.

"Neil! You're being very naughty yourself. Look at you, you're still dressed!

She came over to me and started deftly unbuttoning my shirt, while I unbuckled my belt and lowered my trousers and briefs. My sox and shoes quickly followed.

"What were you saying about our pounding ourselves into oblivion before we were so rudely interrupted? I'm going to hold you to that promise!"

Brigette wrapped her slender arms around my neck and offered herself for a deep kiss. Our tongues wrestled each other as we swapped our gin-soaked spit. She just melted into me, with her prick lewdly rubbing up against mine in a kind of erotic fencing match and with her pert tits tickling themselves in my chest-hair. She pulled back slightly and looked me in the eyes with a hungry stare.

"Neil, please, I need you inside me! No more waiting! I've been ready to go since my spanking."

Mary stopped her diddling and stood up, her breasts swaying gently.

"Come on, you two, let's take this to the bedroom where we can all be comfortable. Unfortunately, the sitting room is mostly for . . . sitting."

* * *

Entering the bedroom with Brigette in tow was an exercise in plumbing the unknown. I had no idea how we might best proceed, nor any inkling of how Brigette had played with Mary and Henry on previous occasions. Her feminine presence was a total turn-on, but I was unsure as to who was supposed to penetrate whom with what. If there was a protocol for our festivities, I had not been informed, and I had to make do with following my intuition as the evening unfolded.

Brigette crawled onto the bed and knelt upright on her knees, shifting her gaze from Mary to me and back, as if awaiting command. I assumed that Mary had a plan in mind, which she did indeed.

"You two are such horny darlings, I don't want to overly intrude. If you'd like to just leap on each other in a naughty twosome, that is perfectly alright. But if you might enjoy me joining in, please say so and we can work out what feels best."

Brigette and I looked at each other and were in clear agreement with letting Mary join in. More often than not, she had a grasp of what would work best for everyone together. Call her a slut, but she was much more than that. Mary had a prescient feel for multiple participants, an instinct for letting emotions merge and for pushing desires to the very edge. We were held within her thrall. Meanwhile, the old coot was at his post, wanking away and grinning. Mary gently pushed Brigette down with her head on a pillow and her bottom raised for easy access.

"Now, dear boy, one thing you'll learn about Brigette is that her girl-bum needs special attention. You did a fine job of spanking her naughty buns, but let's apply some TLC and make things all juicy lucy. Hand me that jar on the nightstand, and let's start applying some cream. Here, I'll handle her left cheek and you can handle her right."

Mary screwed the lid off the white plastic jar and scooped out a dollop of creamy goo, then handed the jar to me and I did the same.

"So, we gently spread our cream all over her bright red tush, making it ever so better. Yes, that's right. Do you like that, sweetie?"

Brigette just sighed and gave her bum an extra wiggle.

"And we can even use this nice healing cream to lube up her hungry hole and your lovely prick. However, before we do that, I would advise a nice little bit of play with her lovely anus. She keeps it very clean and tasty, and I know from experience that some tonguing and fingering sends her over the Moon and helps her loosen up."

I found it hard to imagine Brigette being any looser than she already was, as she had already begged me to get the show on the road and give her a good pounding. However, I took Mary's advice to heart, as she was invariably right. As if to prove the point, Brigette piped up.

"Oh, I do so love a nice rimming, Neil."

I was astonished that for a woman with such fair skin, the area surrounding Brigette's carefully waxed anus was a striking dark brown, as if years of excreting feces had left a permanent stain. I was sure that the ravishing blonde was scrupulous in her wiping habits, but nevertheless, the taut dark skin around her sphincter made it appear like the Black Hole of Calcutta. I cautiously gave it the sniff test. There was the faintest odor suggestive of the hole's function though it was barely discernible beneath the lovely smell of her perfume, indicating she had probably spritzed herself back there.