The Other Side of the Mirror Pt. 04

"Shall we push her all the way through? Get rid of the evidence."

It was possible.

Fear, real fear on Emma's part but, despite her dislike of him, it was Simon who said 'no.'

Such a convenient way of disposing of unwanted people.

No let-up, no let-up in her being made to fuck, the men pushing her at Mortimer, making his big penis move within her. And then, quite dreadfully, it was Alice's fingers touching her, stroking her above the join with the man, teasing her little exposed bud, tickling and exciting the nerve endings of her clitoris. She wanted to tell her to stop, not to be complicit in the men's misdeeds.

Of course, it was not her wish, there was surely nothing erotic, nothing exciting, nothing nice about forced copulation: it was that miasma of concupiscence seeping into her very being, making her so wet and so near.

Awfully, so not what she wanted her reaction to be, Emma came. Not vocal, how could she be with Simon's hand over her mouth? But shuddering nonetheless with electric sensation. Good? Rarely better. But Mandrake knew, she could see it in his eyes and in the widening smile. And as she was coming down from her peak, she felt him ejaculate, as if he had chosen the moment to spurt within her – and it sent her up again – unbelievably the orgasm did not fade but rose again as strong as only seconds before.

"Don't you wish, don't you just want..."

The conversation between the men had returned to sex.

The men pulled her slowly from the man in the mirror, drawing his penis from her. Freed his penis swung upwards and bobbed up and down, looking just as strong as before despite the clear evidence of emission upon its peak. Emma watched appalled, not so much at the penis that had just inseminated her but at her friend, lovely Alice, touching her lips to it, kissing it and then turning her head and bending so forehead first she came through the glass and kissed Emma's sex in turn. She looked up smiling at Emma. It was a fond smile, she was sure, and she did so hope that was sadness in her eyes not lust, yet Alice dropped her head again and when she came up there was semen on her lips. She had felt Alice's little tongue inside her.

Deep breathing from the men around her.

"I want to, I want to fuck and come." It was the older of the men, but they were around her, holding her, clearly wound up to a pitch of sexual excitement, their penises so hard and their balls so full. Six loads – she could count the balls – of potent semen ready to splash onto her cervix and into her unprotected womb.

She felt Simon's hand relax and come away from her mouth. "Please, no.," she whispered as the other men turned her towards Simon

Still struggling but with not so much effort, Emma's eyes a little gazed; she was held so open towards him, her sex unclosed having so been recently vacated by such a substantial organ, the results of ejaculation so very clear in and around; the girl began to drip semen onto the carpet.

Simon bared his teeth, clearly struggling not to just push forward into her. "We mustn't," he said.

"No, you're right, no evidence. The other girls..."

The men moved fast, they were in a hurry to fuck. Her knickers were stuffed in her mouth and she was bound with her own and the men's shirts, one around her ankles, one around her thighs and her own around her mouth. They just tossed her aside onto the bed and turned to the mirror, anxious to engage.

Bound, unable to move, freshly fucked, Emma could only stare at what was before her. A frenzy of rutting as the three men reached for the girls. Three – no four – because the man in the mirror was copulating as well. The penis that had so recently been in her, she could feel the semen from it between her close bound legs, was now inside her dear friend.

Copulating but exchanging, as if it was important that a penis did not remain within one girl for long but exchanged one vagina for another, wet penises pulling momentary from one vagina before being replaced in another. Three men one side of the pliable glass, one man the other, the girls half in and half out of the mirror, a squirming, moving, thrusting scene of intertwined flesh. An orgy – indeed.

Groans and male orgasms as semen was injected into the girls; a slowing of the movement and then a withdrawal by the men; three softening penises turning towards her; Simon and his friends attention returning to Emma. In the mirror five girls and a man looking at her from a room that looked just the same as the one she was in, only there was no Emma reflected upon the bed, no Simon, nor his friends. Slowly the image faded, Mandrake Mortimer still there erect, and into view the reflection of three male bottoms and Emma bound on the bed.

The back door of the pub slowly opened. Across the car park was stillness and out of the door into the night came three men carrying a bundle. A bundle unceremoniously dropped into the boot of a car. Of course, Alec should not have been driving, not with that much beer inside him but the country roads were empty.

The bundle was not just dropped by the roadside and certainly it was not destined for a pond or shallow grave. Emma was alive and well if not quite kicking – she was, after all, securely bound. The men were teaching her a lesson – not to interfere. They left her completely naked, miles from Selsdon Battersely, had taken it in turns to give her a good spanking first whilst still bound, before driving off leaving her to walk back without shoes or anything else in the moonlight.

Three o'clock in the morning Emma finally reached her bedroom. There upon her bed her clothes and everything neatly folded. She was not cold; the exercise and warm night had seen to that, but she was scratched and dirty from falling over. She felt even dirtier from the pawing of the men and what that awful Mandrake Mortimer had done though, of course, his plentiful semen, that had been so wetly present between her thighs, had vanished as he had gone, like smoke. Emma had looked with anger at Simon's door, had thought of waking him and really having a go... but beyond that, what could she do. Should she see the police about assault but what proof did she have? No one had seen her go into the pub, no one had seen her leave, she was sure, there was no evidence, no semen for DNA testing – she did not even know the number of the car she had been taken out into the country in. The men had seen to that, had carried her away from it before releasing her. Emma shuddered at the recollection, how they had pawed at her and then bent her over and smacked her bottom. What could she say to the police, she scowled as she turned her bottom to her mirror and saw how red it was to both cheeks. She could show that to the police – but what would that be as proof or evidence? Within the mirror a swirling and a face that was not her own.

"No, no, no!" Emma hurried from her room to shower. What had she done, what had she done? She did not turn the light on upon her return, slipping naked between the sheets, avoiding even looking in the darkness at the wall with the mirror. What should she do? How could she live if every mirror she looked into showed other faces and more? How could she expose the terrible secret of Selsdon Battersely? Perhaps she should write about it, perhaps convince an investigative journalist to come, perhaps...

No easier to decide what to do in the morning. No easier to think as she packed her bags. She was leaving, she would find a way, but not now, not after the night before. Her resolution to do something certainly did not falter when she saw Simon, her face hard and expressionless as she failed to respond to his 'good morning.'

Simon watched her depart. Emma had said very few words. "I'll find a way, I'll be back for you and the others." It worried him. She was such a resolute and strong-willed girl. She attracted him, even though he knew her feelings were, unsurprisingly, very different. What would she do? He had been unsure about what Alec and Dave had done in dumping her miles from the village, but would it, actually, have been any better if they had simply pushed her fully clothed out of the back door of the pub? Not really, perhaps the worry of being in the car boot and then the difficulty of walking home would have made her think twice about 'interfering' again. Maybe. It had not seemed like that with her the next day.

It was such a simple mistake on Emma's part, in the end. She had written it all up, set down everything she knew and had gone to London to find a journalist but... such a simple mistake.

Another missing person, another missing person in London. The hotel had found her room still with all her luggage and clothes, her toothbrush on the glass shelf in the bathroom. It seemed as if she had left her room in the middle of the night in just her nightdress and had not even taken her key. It was a complete mystery.

No one read her typed manuscript, no one looked at the copy on her PC or knew where she had backed it up in the 'Cloud.' The secret of Selsdon Battersely was all set down in black and white but nobody read it: all because of a simple mistake.

A simple mistake to make in the middle of the night. Probably Emma Wheeler had not been the only one to make it, to mistake a full-length mirror for the open door to the bathroom, but rather than bump into the hard glass and rebound as she walked into it, as anyone else would, befuddled by sleep and the early hour, Emma had walked through, not into the bathroom, but into Mandrake Mortimer's domain.

Her mistake had become suddenly, terrifyingly, obvious to Emma. She had turned with a cry and pushed her hands against the glass behind her, her rented bedroom and her bed so near... yet so far. The warm bed she had left with the covers thrown back just feet away but feet too far. The glass of the mirror on the other side was so hard, so solid. Her hands hammered against the unyielding, so solid glass, but to no avail. Behind her she felt a presence and turned to see Alice and other girls coming towards her; such pretty, young girls, smiling in welcome; their hands reaching out to lift her nightdress, make her naked like themselves, stroke her, comfort her, make her ready for their master and his single horn.

It was a more than pleasant surprise for Simon the next day as he readied himself for bed, an early retiring to bed with the thought of pleasurable sexual activity as he did pretty much every night, sort of alone... though who knew who might appear in his mirror? It was a mixture of surprise, astonishment and, alas, relief, to say nothing of undoubted sexual excitement, to see Emma Wheeler there, hand in hand with Alice in his mirror, being led forward, naked and with her nipples hard. He had been sitting on his bed and he rose up to greet the two young women. Naked, his penis had risen before the apparition, but unlike other awful nights there was not a tirade of insults and condemnation from Emma Wheeler. Nothing of the sort: her nipples stood cherry like, her tongue was visible and wetting her lips. She had all the appearance of a girl sexually aroused, almost desperate with desire: only her eyes showed something else. All Emma did was turn a little to the side and bend away from her friends, so Alice's small fingers could oil her bottom. Simon's penis strengthened the more as he stared at the fingers and Emma's rosebud already with one of Alice's fingers inside it. This was more like it! He watched in delight and excitement as a second oily finger pushed in, easing and opening the orifice. Relief flooded in that he no longer needed to worry about Emma Wheeler - indeed, he had no worries about her at all, anymore.